Take my life take my whole life too

03.09.202203.09.2022 admin 0 Comments

Take my life take my whole life too

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Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too)

Polkari Seuta (VeritasEtVita)

Summary:

After a while, the joking around stopped being funny.

Notes:

Vietnamese translation here by Reggonthly. Thank you!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

No one was ever surprised whenever Jimin asked for little kisses from Jungkook. It was known to the fans and the world that he loved him the most, and showed it off on most of their broadcasts.

It wasn’t like he requested for any on the lips, even though secretly, he wouldn’t have minded.

But it was strange. Lately, the more he asked, the more hurtful Jungkook’s rejection became. It had been playful at first, part of the comical dynamic they portrayed for fan service. Maybe it was just him, but the smirks, the eye-rolling, and the shoving away started to feel much like daggers to his heart.

“Ah, my Jungkookie,” Jimin cooed as he sauntered into the hotel room the two of them were supposed to be sharing.

Jungkook was sitting on the edge of his bed, his thumbs moving furiously on a game playing on his phone.

“Hm?” he answered distractedly, and promptly lost whatever round he was on. “Damn it. Thanks a lot, hyung.”

“That’s all you,” Jimin chuckled, setting his bag down on the empty bed. He sank down next to him and slipped his arm around his shoulder. “Consolation kiss?”

A test, Jimin told himself, because maybe it really was just him; maybe there was nothing to feel about rejected kiss requests, and that Jimin wasn’t actually in love with the maknae.

But then Jungkook smiled in that nose-crinkling way that Jimin thought was the cutest thing he has ever seen.

“Gross. You’re too much,” he laughed, leaning away from Jimin before standing up.

Ah, Jimin thought in response, watching Jungkook’s back as he headed to the door, his body aching from his stomach to his throat. It still hurts.

“I’m getting something to eat with Jin-hyung and Taehyung-hyung,” his dongsaeng called behind him. “Want anything?”

Not anymore, Jimin answered silently. “I’m fine,” he replied, trying not to sound as sullen as he felt. “Have fun.”

He couldn’t look at Jungkook in the eye when the other turned back to smile in parting. Glancing at him hurt, too.

After the door shut, Jimin sat in lonesome silence for a few moments before getting his own phone out.

He wanted to find out what the drinking age in this country was.

Jimin woke up to aggressive nudging against his shoulder and bright, bright light blinding him even through closed eyelids.

Jimin groaned, the voice pounding into his head like a cannon. He buried his face into the mattress. He made to cover his head with the pillow, but it was snatched away.

“Hyung, get up. We have practice today.”

“No,” he grunted in response.

“I wish you had say in the matter,” the voice said with a humorless chuckle. “But we’ll be late if you stay in bed any longer.”

When Jimin refused to move, he felt himself being pulled into to a sitting position. Seeing that there was no way around this, he dared himself to open one eye, and then the other.

He had no contacts on, so everything around him was a little blurry, but he could clearly make out the concerned figure standing over him.

Jungkook, already dressed and ready to leave, sat down on the edge of the bed across from Jimin’s, thankfully blocking out the irritating sunlight pouring through the window.

Jimin then noticed that there was a bowl of fruit on the side table between the beds. Jungkook picked it up and plucked out a piece of honeydew with his fingers.

“You got drunk last night,” Jungkook told him. Jimin was sure he meant for it to be a question, but it was pretty obvious.

He tried to feed Jimin the fruit, but Jimin could feel all of the feelings rush back over him, as crushing as they had been the day before, as painful as every time before that.

I must be overreacting, he tried to convince himself. Kookie thought I was joking around.

Maybe Jungkook wasn’t that intuitive; that he couldn’t see the way Jimin lit up when he was around.

But I’ve pined for too long, he thought, a realization that came to him the night before, when he was intoxicated with soju and feelings–a bad mix, but he got through the night thanks to that numbing blur. Thinking about everything hadn’t seemed as bad.

Jimin turned his head away. “Yeah, I drank,” he answered curtly.

“Why?” Jungkook asked, exasperated. “You know we have practice all day today. The concert is tomorrow.”

“I know,” Jimin replied, avoiding his question. “I’m sorry.” He stood up from bed, ignoring Jungkook’s second attempt at giving him food.

Suddenly, there was a hard knock at the door.

“Hey, why are you guys taking so long?!” yelled Hoseok’s voice. “We have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes!”

Jimin went to open the door, revealing Hoseok and Yoongi.

“You look really bad,” Yoongi observed with a tsk, and looked past Jimin’s shoulder at Jungkook. “I thought you got him fruit.”

“I did, but he won’t–”

“Aish, give me that,” Hoseok sighed, pushing past Jimin into the room. Jimin and Yoongi watched as Hoseok swiped the bowl out of Jungkook’s hand and moved back to Jimin.

“Say ahh,” his hyung said merrily, the same piece of honeydew in his hand.

He was making such a goofy motherly expression that Jimin couldn’t help but laugh a little, earning Hoseok enough mouth room to shove the fruit into it.

Jimin chewed, savoring what sweet hydration felt like. He let out a small grunt of contentment. It really hit the spot.

Hoseok laughed at him and handed him the bowl. “Hurry up and get ready. The rest of us will be downstairs.”

Jimin nodded as Yoongi exited, with Hoseok following and dragging the maknae with him, who, interestingly, stared bitterly at the back of his head on the way out.

But Jimin did not leave himself room to wonder what it meant.

With the group’s schedules as hectic as ever, Jimin and the rest of Bangtan found themselves back in Seoul the morning after the concert, which went by without event from Jungkook, thankfully. Jimin made sure to stay out of the hotel room they shared their last night until he was sure Jungkook was asleep before sneaking in. He was also glad that he wasn’t the one sitting next to him on the plane.

Currently, there were only a few hours of rest before the boys had to get ready for a radio show interview. Jimin buried himself in his dorm roommates’ company and hoped neither of them let Jungkook penetrate the defenses.

I have to move on. I have to stay away. I have to flush out these feelings.

But it didn’t mean he didn’t notice Jungkook staring during the broadcast. He was awfully talented at boring his eyes into him; waiting and wondering. Jimin did his best to ignore him and concentrate on Hoseok and Taehyung seated on either side of him.

“Jimin-ssi, the maknae lover!” the radio show host announced cheerfully. “Do you still love Jungkook-sshi that much?”

Jimin couldn’t help glancing across from him, at Jungkook looking back with an expectant gaze. Pain resounded in his chest.

Next to him, Hoseok squeezed his knee reassuringly under the table. It was uncanny how intuitive his hyung was when it came to his feelings. Jimin wished there was something heart-stirring about the gesture, that he could feel for Hoseok the same way he felt for Jungkook, but deep in his soul, and quite regretfully, it was just not possible.

It wasn’t how love worked.

“He’s the maknae,” Jimin forced out, smiling wide enough for the host to believe him. “That’s all. There’s nothing else to it.”

“If Taehyungie was the maknae instead, would you be the same way with him?” Yoongi couldn’t help asking, raising a brow with a bit of disbelief.

“You bet I would,” Jimin declared, and shielded himself from a playfully disgusted Taehyung shoving him in the side.

And Jimin almost–almost–missed the hurt that fleeted across Jungkook’s large, soulful eyes.

Good, a vengeful part of him thought, but immediately regretted it. Because he was still hopelessly in love.

It was late afternoon in the dormitory. Jimin thought the maknae would be too busy doing errands at the company building to be around, but to his unpleasant surprise, he was home instead.

Jimin sank further in his seat on the couch. He pretended not to hear him through his earphones and continued to scroll listlessly through his phone even though he wasn’t paying attention to what was on the screen.

Suddenly, he felt Jungkook pull one of the earbuds out. Jimin jumped a little, having expected to be left alone, and looked up to see the maknae standing over him, wearing athletic shorts and a tank top.

Jimin tried not to let even that affect him, but not only was he swayed by Jungkook emotionally, but physically, too. Try as he might, he could not help drinking in the sight of smooth, bare skin, of well-defined arm muscles, or of the healthy, figure of strength. Jungkook was made to be held and held by.

But probably not with me.

“What’s up?” Jimin asked quietly, flickering his eyes back to this phone.

“Run with me,” Jungkook requested in a soft, cautious voice. “We… we haven’t spent time together.”

“But I want to run with you.”

The plea in his voice ached his heart. Jimin paused the music playing on his phone, for a moment, unable to breathe.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell him that Seokjin would be happy to join him, or that Taehyung would go since he was starting to work out regularly, but he came up empty.

The statement he announced as a joke in interviews in several times past haunted him now, still annoyingly true.

I can’t resist Jungkookie.

“This park is nice, right, Jiminnie-hyung?” Jungkook called out, as the two jogged together along a lush nature trail surrounded by trees, shrubs, and shade.

“Yeah,” Jimin said blandly, staring warily at his dongsaeng’s back.

“I don’t think we’ve run together like this since we trained for the Idol Olympics.”

“Probably.” Jimin huffed out a sigh. Why the hell did Jungkook keep making conversation? They were running. Many of their breaths were already spent on that. Why waste anymore energy?

“Hyung, there’s a cool little hideout nearby,” Jungkook said, turning around to look at Jimin. “Want to stop by and look?”

“Jungkook, don’t run backwards,” Jimin reprimanded him. “You could–”

Too late. The normally reflexive maknae tripped on an embedded stone on the dirt trail and stumbled over his heels, landing hard on his back with a loud oof.

It sounded like it hurt. Jimin wasted no time rushing to Jungkook’s side and leaning over him.

Jungkook groaned softly before locking eyes with Jimin. His eyes were bigger and more arresting than ever. Jimin could feel the painful pull of attraction the longer he stared.

But he reminded himself that it wasn’t important; his dongsaeng could be hurt.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, and gasped when Jungkook suddenly grabbed him by the straps of his tank top.

“Hyung?” His voice was small.

The elder panicked, thinking the fall was much harder than either anticipated. He laid a hand gently against Jungkook’s head, while the other cupped his face. “Jungkook-ah, are you in pain? Did you hit your head?”

“No,” Jungkook answered softly, still gazing at him. His teeth slid unsurely over his soft bottom lip.

Then, without warning, he pulled Jimin down and kissed him. It full of heat and the release of pent-up emotions that have frustrated Jimin to no end. They surged and swelled, sweeping them both in passionate waves.

And he just couldn’t stop, even though they were both slick with sweat, dirt and their clothing sticking to their bodies as Jimin flattened his form on top of him; even though they both tasted salt and earth on their lips and skin; even though they were outside, in the open for the entire world to see.

Jungkook snaked his arms tightly around Jimin’s waist before turning him over onto his back. Their lips broke apart in the midst of it, leaving Jimin enough room to speak up.

“Why?” he asked breathlessly, confused.

“I missed you,” was the only explanation Jungkook could tell him, even though he seemed equally puzzled and uncertain, like he just discovered an inkling of something; the edges of knowledge at his fingertips still waiting to be figured out.

But his eyes–Jimin knew them better than Jungkook did.

I’m afraid I’ll lose you, they told him, the dark pools clinging, pulling; begging for clarity. They seemed to get closer and closer, looking larger than the universe–or was Jimin just falling into them like he always did?

“I missed you a lot, hyung.” He seemed surer of himself this time, his voice smoother and a touch louder, but still crestfallen. “I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

The words twisted sharp shame into Jimin’s heart.

He saw pain seep into Jungkook’s eyes in the form of brimming tears. One escaped, splattering against the corner of Jimin’s mouth. It burned his skin and everything inside of him.

And Jimin just let go.

Down with his barricade; down with the cool exterior he tried to surround himself with. He could not, for the life of him, fall out of love with Jeon Jungkook; not when the younger was actually trying to fix their relationship, even though he didn’t understand the cause of crack Jimin created.

“Jungkook, I’ve never hated you,” Jimin whispered, catching tears in his hands as they continued to slip from Jungkook’s eyes. “I fell in love with you. I thought it wasn’t going to lead anywhere, so I… tried to stay away.”

The words processed slowly; Jimin could see the way the knowledge unfolded in Jungkook’s eyes. Jimin saw everything through them, even when his dongsaeng was in his most reserved moods.

That kind of love, they seemed to decide. That’s what this is, isn’t it?

Jimin thought he should say more. Maybe Jungkook needed a whole explanation about how Jimin had been acting for the past month.

I lied on the radio broadcast, he was about to admit, but he was sure Jungkook tasted the words on his lips as he pressed them to his again, as he let them slide against Jimin’s, full of hope and apology. Forgiveness, too, because Jimin wasn’t perfect, either.

Jimin expected to feel the ache that came anytime he touched the boy he loved, but none came. He felt a reciprocating, unpracticed love from Jungkook that he never thought would be bigger than his own.

“Jiminnie-hyung,” he panted, finally lifting his head to catch his breath. He looked sheepish. “I–”

“We should go,” Jimin breathed, sitting up. Jungkook moved out of the way to give him room. It was only now he realized that they have been out too long. “We shouldn’t stay on the nature trail at night.”

He started to get up, but Jungkook pressed his hands to Jimin’s knees, stilling him.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said again. He was staring at him with an insecure furrow of his brows. “You have to know that I… I–”

His words faltered when Jimin brought his face closer. But this time, he didn’t push Jimin away or laugh. He stayed put, and maybe even swayed forward a little with anticipation. Like it was the natural thing to do.

A smile spread across Jimin’s face when he kissed Jungkook’s nose.

“I know,” he replied with feather-like ease. “I love you, too.”

Notes:

~~Wondering if I should group these in a series.~~ I created a series. Lol.

Everybody says you’re not the one
Everybody says I lost my way
Baby, maybe I’m doing wrong
Don’t care! I feel OK
Everybody says I lost my head
But I never wanna turn my way
Everybody says you drive me mad
Don’t care, ’cause it’s too late
No matter when I’m with you
I do what you want me to
You know I never will go
You drive me wild with your charms
You hold me tight in your arms
Girl, you tease me I know
And you make my love grow
Do you want me on my knees?

Take my love never dying
Take my love never ending
Take my love never dying
Give me yours
Take my love never dying
Take my love and hear me crying
Take my love, take my love

You are the queen of my heart
You’re tearing me all apart
No I never will go
You wonder if I love you
I always say ‘yes I do’
Girl you tease me I know
And you make my love grow
Do you want me on my knees?

Take my love never dying
Take my love never ending
Take my love never dying
Give me yours
Take my love never dying
Take my love and hear me crying
Take my love, take my love

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can’t help falling in love with you
For I can’t help falling in love with you

———————————————
Мудрецы говорят: спешат лишь дураки
Но я не могу не любить тебя.
Если я останусь,
Будет ли это грехом?
Ведь я не могу не любить тебя.

Как река непременно впадает в море,
Любимая, некоторым вещам
Суждено быть.
Возьми мою руку, возьми и всю мою жизнь,
Потому что я не могу не любить тебя.

Как река непременно впадает в море,
Любимая, некоторым вещам
Суждено быть.
Возьми мою руку, возьми и всю мою жизнь,
Потому что я не могу не любить тебя.
Потому что я не могу не любить тебя.

Elvis Presley Take my hand

Текст песни «Elvis Presley — Take my hand»

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can’t help falling in love with you

—
Мудрецы говорят: спешат лишь дураки
Но я не могу не любить тебя.
Если я останусь,
Будет ли это грехом?
Ведь я не могу не любить тебя.

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can’t help falling in love with you

Смотрите также:

Все тексты Elvis Presly >>>

Мудрецы говорят только дураки врываются
Но я не могу влюбиться в с вами
Должен ли я остаться
Было бы грех
Если я не могу влюбиться в с вами

Can’t help falling in love

_ _ рекомендуемый рисунок:

(в легкой тональности C)
_
_ C Em Am Am/G
Wise men say
_ F C/E G
only fools rush in
_ F G Am
but I can’t help
_ F C G C
falling in love with you

_ C Em Am Am/G
Shall I stay
_ F C/E G
would it be a sin
_ F G Am
if I can’t help
_ F C G C
falling in love with you

_ Em H7
_ Like a river flows
_ Em H7
_ surely to the sea
_ Em H7
_ Darling so it goes
_ G A7
_ some things
_ Dm G
_ are meant to be

_ C Em Am Am/G
Take my hand,
_ F C/E G
take my whole life too
_ F G Am
for I can’t help
F C G C
falling in love with you

_ Em H7
_ Like a river flows
_ Em H7
_ surely to the sea
_ Em H7
_ Darling so it goes
_ G A7
_ some things
_ Dm G
_ are meant to be

_ C Em Am Am/G
Take my hand,
_ F C/E G
take my whole life too
_ F G Am
for I can’t help
F C G C
falling in love with you

Разбор песни Can’t help falling in love – Elvis Presley

(в оригинальной тональности D)
_
_ D F#m Hm Hm/A
Wise men say
_ G D/F# A
only fools rush in
_ G A Hm
but I can’t help
_ G D A D
falling in love with you

_ D F#m Hm Hm/A
Shall I stay
_ G D/F# A
would it be a sin
_ G A Hm
if I can’t help
_ G D A D
falling in love with you

_ F#m C#7
_ Like a river flows
_ F#m C#7
_ surely to the sea
_ F#m C#7
_ Darling so it goes
_ A H7
_ some things
_ Em A
_ are meant to be

_ D F#m Hm Hm/A
Take my hand,
_ G D/F# A
take my whole life too
_ G A Hm
for I can’t help
_ G D A D
falling in love with you

_ F#m C#7
_ Like a river flows
_ F#m C#7
_ surely to the sea
_ F#m C#7
_ Darling so it goes
_ A H7
_ some things
_ Em A
_ are meant to be

_ D F#m Hm Hm/A
Take my hand,
_ G D/F# A
take my whole life too
_ G A Hm
for I can’t help
_ G D A D
falling in love with you

Elvis Presley — Can’t Help Falling in Love

Take my hand, take my whole life too,
For I can’t help falling in love with you,
Like a river flows surely to the sea.

Как река непременно впадает в море,
Возьми мою руку, возьми и всю мою жизнь,
Потому что я не могу не любить тебя.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ — ❥That bully upper classman (Childe) ✧ You can’t.

Для этого и создано приложение.

Modern Yandere Genshin impact X Reader [School Edition]

❥That bully upper classman (Childe)

✧It’s better if you walk, school isn’t far enough you can’t go home as your mom will have your head, without answering him you started to walk ahead. Annoyed by your behavior Childe kept his pace as your walking speed and continued disturbing you, he can’t let his puppy walk what if they get into accident and die or maybe someone will steal them away, it was enough for him to follow you and get you with him. He doesn’t know how to be nice as a bully he can look cool, look out for people coming closer to you and always be near you he can be the only on who can hurt you and he can be the only one who can give you happiness.

✧ «Get inside honey I will drop you», ignoring him you ran other side it is dangerous to ignore him but he isn’t someone to be trusted. Being pulled behind in a back hug you can feel wind passing you by. «Crazy, do you have any idea what would have happen if I wasn’t here», Childe screamed in your ears. «Can you. ugh leave me». » No» he rejected you before dragging you to the back seat of the car throwing you inside. He couldn’t believe, he could have lost you. Entering the car making you confuse while closing the car door.

✧«Now shall we get started» coming between your legs and binding your hands above your head with his one hand. hold up nothing happened. Childe was smirking the whole ride and you were trying to hide your blush, embarrassed at your thoughts. Unknow of the fact that this was merely a setup to make you come towards him and be his.

❥Annoying playboy who sit beside you in maths class (Kaeya)

✧Till now maths teacher was headache but now this school’s popular playboy started sitting next to you making teachers notice you, was the last thing you ever wanted and all the girls glare made you curse Kaeya, but he was the one least bothered by this. «Oi missing me, I can see that», Kaeya’s teasing voice pulled you out of your thoughts, you tried to ignore him by watching out of the window it’s better than attracting all the attention, teacher told to take out textbooks, «thanks babe», Kaeya said pulling your textbook towards him, it seems like he had mastered over how to anger you, you pulled your textbook towards you if that was not enough for him, he again tried to pull your text book which caused teacher to shooted a glare towards you both.

❥Young substitute teacher (Zhongli)

(It’s short I am sorry T_T)

✧» I heard you failed in history, so I thought. if I could I mean do you need my help « a chuckle left your mouth the indifferent guy is having so difficulty placing his words infront of you, he looked so cute but why did he mentioned history. » Thank you so much for asking, I am good «, you said rejecting his offer «I insist», his small sentence made it harder for you to reject him, after all he already is infront of you with all the books. «Alright I am grateful», he smiled infront of you if only you had camera so you could click it and sell it to his fangirls you would be rich by now. «You can see all the note and prepare for next exam I will help you with all the concepts that are hard» you took all the notes to see what you did wrong and saw his how hard he must have worked to write all the information, you looked at him and saw him staring at you, he quickly diverted his eyes clearing his throat, he got up and made his way out of the class saying he is going to bring some drink his treat, good you haven’t eaten anything.

✧Just then you saw your guy friend came to talk to you who always manage to make you laugh, suddenly a hand slammed on your desk,sudden drop of atmosphere surrounded and Xiao’s roaring voice was enough to tell he wasn’t pleased. «Can you move», more like a command. «Chill dude I was just passing» you saw your friend walking away, you looked at Xiao who was smiling warmly at you which was scary all you can do is next time ignore him to ignore troubles but you didn’t know what he was thinking. You never laughed towards me like that, he won’t let you disappear, his light not after staring at you for so many years and finally having the courage to talk to you. It doesn’t matter he just wants to be with you.

❥Next door neighbor (Diluc)

✧You tied your shoes vigorously, again overslept after simping for some fictional character, running as you crashed with your neighbor. «I am sorry», you said unconsciously. «Are you alright? Did I hurt you? Please forgive me». Diluc said holding your hands coming closer to examine your face, your reflex made you move away from him.«I am ok», his scarlet-hued hair which is always worn in a messy ponytail that extends to his middle back made you wonder if you could ever have hair as beautiful as his. You made your way towards elevator saying your late for school, can’t delay anymore saying him bye before he could give you any offer. After getting exhausted from school all you wished was to go home eat and sleep.

✧Unexpectedly you heard someone’s painfully groan, thinking if you should go or not, finally after having war inside your head you walked towards the voice only to see the distantly sweet neighbor beating two guys ruthlessly punching their face, blood on his knuckle. Your heart dropped how can he beat someone so badly? If this continued they are sure to die. «DILUC STOP», you screamed running towards him, his insane glare was enough to make you stop on your track. «It’s enough I shouldn’t get on your business but this will hurt you only», silently praying that he will stop what he is doing and leave. Diluc stood up and walked towards you and hugged tightly, curious to his next word you were going with the flow.

✧«Aren’t they the one who harassed you, they should be dead, people like them doesn’t deserve to live», surprised at his words «I understand but this isn’t the best way to approach such people», he grinded his teeth and hugged you tighter making a yelp escape your tongue but he couldn’t careless.«If I left them they would be bold enough to hurt you again I hate that they touched you, we don’t want anyone else to be their victim right?», trying his best to manipulate you «you are right but from next time please don’t». He put his head on the crook of your neck you could swear you heard him say «Don’t go anywhere, where I can’t protect you, stay at your home or with me».

❥Best friend’s brother aka classmate (aether)

✧When you entered your homeroom you saw aether’s eyes lighting up you giggled at his cute behavior and sat next to him. «How was your class?», his face dropped without you everything is colourless «kinda boring», you laughed «yes of course but you need to study», you searched for you notebook of next class not believing your luck you asked a girl sitting in front of you if she had extra book. She was kind enough to not refuse you but aether put a brand new book infront of you.«She doesn’t need thank you», he did not letting you speak anything and kept on babbling. Your classmates talking to you was enough to make him jealous even you looking somewhere or at something that isn’t him will throw him off the clip. Aether even get jealous of his sister who is your best friend he trusts her, she will not betray him besides he gets to see you everyday because of her.

Take my life take my whole life too

내 손을 잡아 내 삶도 다 가져가

Символ показывает уровень знания интересующего вас языка и вашу подготовку. Выбирая ваш уровень знания языка, вы говорите пользователям как им нужно писать, чтобы вы могли их понять.

Мне трудно понимать даже короткие ответы на данном языке.

Могу задавать простые вопросы и понимаю простые ответы.

Могу формулировать все виды общих вопросов. Понимаю ответы средней длины и сложности.

Понимаю ответы любой длины и сложности.

Решайте свои проблемы проще в приложении!

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take my hand (take my whole life too)

xuanszhen

Summary:

The war in New Orleans between the Mikaelsons and Marcel Gerard is finally over, and with the reclaiming of their city, the Mikaelsons throw a ball, where Kol brings an unexpected guest.

Notes:

this one’s for my fellow caroline & kol friendship + klaroline enthusiasts

Work Text:

After years of bloodshed in New Orleans, the Mikaelsons finally reclaimed their city and their home. Despite Marcel’s attempt to usurp them, Klaus granted him mercy and allowed him to serve as his right-hand man, partly because he wanted to keep Marcel close so that he could watch him but also because he truly didn’t want to see his former protege die.

And to commemorate their victory, in true Mikaelson fashion, a ball was to be held at the Abattoir, their home once again.

Klaus was exhausted, truly bone-tired exhausted. He wasn’t even in charge of planning the ball or even anything related to it but he forgot what a terror Rebekah was when it came to these sort of events. Unlike their last ball, Esther wasn’t around to take charge and to delegate tasks (thankfully) but that just meant that Rebekah took it upon herself to organize it. After all, she was head of the committee during her time at Mystic Falls High so she did have some experience.

“No! I don’t want yellow decor, I want gold. And I want a champagne tower but I don’t see it. Do I have to do everything myself?” demanded Rebekah.

Klaus put his head into his hands. Was it possible to dagger himself? At least for a few days, until the day of the ball so that all of the planning would be over.

“Rebekah, the ball will be perfect. You’re doing a wonderful job and everything will get here on time,” said Elijah, ever the voice of reason.

“It has to be perfect, ‘Lijah. This is the first event that we’re having in our home and for all of New Orleans to see that we’re a united front. We need to show that we’re better for New Orleans than Marcel was or who’s to say that they won’t turn on us?”

Klaus got up from his seat and walked over to Rebekah, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “It’ll be fine. They’ll love us.”

“Easy for you to say, Nik. All you’re doing is sitting there.”

Klaus blinked. “Not true. I’m listening very carefully to everything you’re saying, which is more than what Kol is doing. And speaking of Kol, where is he?”

“He said he was going to run some errands, there were some things he needed for the ball on Friday,” replied Elijah.

That was curious. Kol was never the type to run his own errands, first of all, believing that he had “people” who could do those tasks for him. Klaus wasn’t sure what to think but he knew that Kol wouldn’t do anything to harm their family, not after everything they went through to get back to where they were.

The next few days passed in a haze, with Rebekah barking orders at everyone and Kol being as elusive as ever. But the day had finally come and it was time for the Mikaelsons to reintroduce themselves to New Orleans.

Thankfully, Rebekah didn’t make dates required for the ball but he knew that the evening would commence with a dance, as always. He was planning on spending the night with his sister, Marcel and Camille and would probably ask the latter to dance for the sake of tradition, but still, he couldn’t keep his mind off a certain blonde. He missed the feeling of her hands in his, the way it seemed as if she couldn’t fully look at him in the eyes, scared of what she might find.

Shaking his head, he fastened his cufflinks, gave himself a once over in the mirror and headed towards the ballroom.

The Abattoir looked incredible. Rebekah’s planning, although incessant and annoying, paid off. The decorations were both modern and regal, exuding the Mikaelsons’ wealth and power. The champagne was freely flowing as Rebekah requested and the chandeliers twinkled above him. This was the type of event that would show everyone that the Mikaelsons have come back for good, that they wouldn’t be driven from this city again.

Scanning the crowd, Klaus easily spotted his siblings. Elijah was with Hayley, the both of them sipping champagne, and Rebekah was already with Marcel and Camille. The only person missing was Kol, which made Klaus narrow his eyes in suspicion.

He made his way over to Rebekah, Marcel and Camille, kissing Rebekah on the cheek in greeting. “Wonderful job tonight, Rebekah. You’ve outdone yourself”

Rebekah smiled. “Thank you, Nik. Do try and smile at some point tonight.”

“I’ll do my best,” replied Klaus. He tipped his head to Marcel and Camille in greeting, “I’m glad you both could make it tonight. Feel free to help yourself to the food and drinks.”

Camille and Marcel smiled in response.

“Have you seen Kol tonight?” asked Klaus, turning back to Rebekah. Kol’s disappearance was starting to worry him, not because he thought Kol was in danger but there was a very high chance that he was doing something he shouldn’t be.

“I saw him earlier before the guests started arriving. He should be around here somewhere.”

As he was about to reply, Klaus saw movement from the corner of his eye near the staircase.

He turned around and saw his baby brother on the stairs.

With Caroline Forbes by his side.

Klaus’ mind was racing with the possible explanations as to what was going on. He was having trouble trying to make sense of Caroline being in New Orleans first of all, let alone beside his brother. Was this what Kol needed for the ball?

“Nik. You’re about to break that glass,” commented Rebekah, humor lacing her voice.

Klaus didn’t think any of this was funny. He ripped his eyes away from Caroline and turned back to Rebekah. “What is he doing? Why is he with her? Did you know about this?”

Before Rebekah could reply, Klaus heard a voice from behind him.

Klaus took a deep breath to try and calm himself and turned around.

“Kol. I’ve been looking for you.”

“I had to pick someone up. I trust that you remember her?” Kol was smirking. Klaus tried very, very hard not to punch the smirk off his face.

As if Kol didn’t know about his fascination with Caroline, how he drew sketch after sketch of her, committing her face to memory. As if he could ever forget her.

Klaus looked at Caroline, who was already smiling at him. She looked beautiful. Her hair was done up in an elegant updo and she wore a black, strapless floor length gown with a slit on the side. He noticed that the diamond bracelet that he gave her for her birthday all those years ago was on her wrist again.

He thought about how different she looks from the first Mikaelson ball that they attended together. Back then, she could barely look at him and while she looked beautiful in the blue dress that he got her, she was absolutely breathtaking in her black dress now. Her smile was radiant and it was aimed at him.

“Caroline, love. Welcome to New Orleans,” said Klaus, kissing her cheek in greeting. To his surprise, she let him.

“Hello, Klaus. I’m glad to be here. It’s a beautiful city and there’s a lot I haven’t seen yet,” replied Caroline, still smiling.

Klaus tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice, focusing on the fact that Caroline was here and in front of him. “I’d be happy to show you, but it looks like you’ve got Kol for that. And since when were you … close with my brother, anyways?”

Kol laughed. “Don’t get jealous, Nik. She’s my friend. One of my closest friends, in fact. We bonded over the fact that I got to hit Damon with a baseball bat repeatedly, and that’s something she’s always wanted to do. I invited her here tonight because I thought she should experience a Mikaelson ball in all its glory, minus the whole our-mother-is-trying-to-kill-us thing. I was surprised that you hadn’t already asked her yourself.”

Glancing at Caroline to gauge her reaction, Klaus replied, “I didn’t know if she would want to come. You know I would’ve invited her if I knew she was willing to come to New Orleans, I thought that it would be a few more years until she came.”

Distantly, he heard Elijah announcing the commencement of the ball, which of course, would start with a dance. Marcel led Rebekah to the dance floor and some vampire he didn’t remember the name of came to ask Camille to dance. Thankfully, he didn’t have to settle for her anymore.

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m here and unless you’d like for me to go, someone needs to ask me to dance. Unless you want Rebekah to come back and smite us for ruining her ball.”

Kol kissed Caroline’s forehead and saluted. “Sorry, darling. I don’t do slow dances so I’m off to find a drink but come find me after and I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

Clearing his throat, Klaus offered his hand to Caroline. “If I may?”

“You may,” replied Caroline, taking his hand and offering him another beautiful smile.

Leading her to the dance floor, Klaus twirled Caroline and then brought her close.
“You look ravishing tonight, love,” said Klaus warmly, with a twinkle in his eye.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Caroline lifted her eyes to his and replied, “Well, I did have time to go shopping this time. And I accessorized properly, of course,” referring to the diamond bracelet that he gave her, the one he called her out for wearing last time.

Klaus laughed. He missed her banter and wit more than he could’ve imagined. “Someone as beautiful as you should always have the finest things in life, Caroline. At the very least, you deserve that. And you know I can offer you so much more, if you’d let me.”

“Perhaps. If you can convince me to stay, that is.”

Smiling, Klaus twirled Caroline again. He had the rest of this night—and the rest of their lives—to show her everything he could possibly offer her.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ — Hello, would it be possible to write something for.

Для этого и создано приложение.

Аноним asked:

Hello, would it be possible to write something for jouno saigiku please? You can write what you want I always adore your stuff so I’m sure it will be awesome like always :3

♡ Jōno Saigiku ♡

As usual, Juono had a calm expression on his face as he merely started at the squirming girl beneath him. She was tied up and gagged, but Juono felt tired carrying her ariund for the last thirty minutes, so he decided to take a small break by sitting on a tree stump.

Juono figured that it was now dark since the only things that could be heard were some birds flying and (y/n)’s constant attempts to scream or untie the ropes.

He sat there for a few moments, enjoying the cute sounds she was making. He felt so sad that he could never see her beauty with his own two eyes, but he could at least smell her. He would never admit it, but her smell was absolutely intoxicating, he just could never get enough! He just loved to burry his nose deep in to her soft and silky locks and just admire her scent. He was also fond of her neck, since it was oh so delicate. He could never see the expressions she was making when he would bite in to the soft flesh, but he could feel her heart beating uncontrollably, and Juono loved it.

He loved the feeling of power and dominace he had over her, and he had no shame in admitting that. Her cries were like music to his ears, and her tears were like the sweetest candy that he would gladly eat up.

Still sittin on the tree stump, Juono decided to listen to her heartbeat one more time before taking action. As expected, it was rapidly beating in her chest but he knew that she was tired. (y/n) couldn’t fight him forever, and she was most certainly reaching her limit by now. Juono got up on his feet and made his way towards (y/n). She tried to focus on anything else, but she just couldn’t. The crunching grass beneath his boots were far too real to ignore, and (y/n) could feel more tears that were threatening to spill from her puffy red eyes.

Once she felt Juono’s cold hands around her waist, she sighed in defeat. For the life of her, she just couldn’t do this anymore. She was tired of fighting this man and all she wanted to do was rest. Juono sensed that her heartbeat was calmer now and he smiled in utter delight. He lightly kissed her cheek while grabbing a needle from his back pocket. Before (y/n) had even noticed it, Juono had already injected the colourless liquid in to her bruised neck. She gasped in horror as she felt her eyes shutting completely, and in just a few seconds she blacked out completely.

Juono stood in the middle of the forest, with (y/n) still in his arms. He lowered his head down to her lips and gave them a light peck, savouring the sweetness of her lips. After a few seconds, he pulled away and was now walking again.

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Еще кое-что любопытное

Entering the office, only to be met with utter silence. It was weird seeing the place so empty since someone was always there, even if they were just lazing around. But, the one thing that stood out was the green notebook on Kunikida’s desk. You just stared at it, somewhat eager to read it. Kunikida always made sure that no one got to read it especially you.

With a sigh, you made your way towards your own desk and started to arrange some papers. But no matter how hard you tried, your eyes always wandered back to the notebook. It was just sitting there on the desk, like it was begging to be read! It was weird that Kunikida didn’t have it with him, but he was most likely somewhere near with the director. You pondered on what you should do. Should you respect Kunikida’s privacy, and not touch the notebook or should you satisfy your own desire to read it?

After a few minutes of thinking, curiosity won the battle. People always did say that curiosity killed the cat but everyone always failed to mention that satisfaction brought it back.

You got up and quietly walked towards the wodden table, slightly nervous of getting caught. But still, you persisted and you now finally had the little green notebook in your hands. Carefully opening it, you noted that there wasn’t anything special on the first few pages. Just some of Kunikida’s chores, the bills the Agency had to pay, everything Dazai had damaged, etc. But, something caught your eye. It was a entry and your name was writen several times in it. Curiously, you read it.

(y/n) was late to work and I made sure to lightly scold her about that. She apologized, but I just felt so bad. I didn’t want to sound so harsh, but it needed to be done. Then she…”

Most of the entries were like this. Some of them were even downright cute! But, the more and more you continued to read, you realized just how wrong everything had become. The entries were much darker now, and were just plain creepy. They contained all of your personal information, including phone numbers, adress, favorite foods, hobbies, the names and adresses of your friends, your god damn bra size… No longer were the entries focused on Kunikida’s frustrations, now the only focus was you. Everything you did, everywhere you went, it was all written down. Kunikida expressed his horrible jelaousy towards Dazai and other men, how much he hated when you look at them and just how god damn sweet you were towards them. He wanted that sweetness for himself, he wanted you to be in his arms, he wanted you all to himself. He wrote down several plans to “ensure you become his”. He had a werehouse, clorophone, chains and all sorts of things that were just huge red flags. You finally got to the last entry, which was early in the morning.

I am tired of waiting. My patience is running thin, I just can’t take it anymore… I hate how she pays attention to everyone else and not me… God this feeling is bothersome. The only thing that can stop it is by making sure that she is mine.

She needs to be MINE!!”

You were shocked by what you just read. Was…was Kunikida really like this? This definetly explained his strange behavior but…

“…what the Hell are you doing?”

Your blood ran cold. You recognised the voice to be Kunikida’s and your eyes widened as you realized that he was staring both you and his notebook down. He was right behind you. He was so close that you could just feel his hot breath on your neck. You started to shake lightly as Kunikida took the notebook from your hands. You didn’t have the guts to turn around, you were just so darn scared! You could hear Kunikida sigh as he closed his notebook. Before you could make a run for it, Kunikida stopped you by harshly tugging your hair. You gasped in horror as salty tears stung your eyes, while Kunikida used his other hand to grab your neck. He pulled you closer in to his embrace, like he was savouring the feeling of you in his arms. You could feel his other hand letting go of your (h/c) locks as he reached down to take something from his pocket. In a low but husky tone, he spoke again:

“(y/n), you can’t just go around touching people’s personal items, understand? You never know in what you might run in to…”

His voice trailed off at the last few words, and before you knew it something small and sharp had pricked your neck. You quickly realized that it was a drug as everything around you became a blurr. The only thing that you could make out was the rapid heartbeat of Kunikida, and before passing out in his arms, he spoke once again.

“You did not obey my order to not touch my notebook. Because of that, you deserve to be punished.”

Before you knew it, you had passed out completely in your captors arms.

Dark and Sweet (Fyodor Dostoevsky)

Cold, thin fingers fiddle with the napkin in front of him. The chatter of people around him seems louder today, almost loud enough to drown out the one in his head and he can’t seem to decide whether that’s a good thing or not.

“Here you go, one black coffee.” The waitress chirps as she places the cup in front of him, “Can I get you anything else?”

Fyodor winces, thinks her voice is too shrill, thinks if she could just shut up, that would be great. “No, thank you.” Is all he manages to say.

She leaves and he stirs the dark liquid in the porcelain cup. People might assume he likes his coffee completely dark and completely bitter, but surprisingly, that’s only half true. He actually likes it dark and sweet. There’s just something about that combination that fascinates him to no end. Black and sweet do not belong together. He would know, he’s been familiar with the charred blackness of his soul since forever, and nothing sweet ever survives once he touches it.

And yet, and yet he couldn’t help but be drawn towards the sweet thing sitting just some distance across from him.

She was sitting alone at another table, completely engrossed in her book. Fyodor had been observing the girl for quite some days now, long enough to know that she always came alone and always ordered the same thing (a café au lait topped with whipped cream white enough to put clouds to shame, Fyodor thought it quite fitting) and despite being as ordinary as anyone, she was also the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

With his chin propped up on the edge of his bony palm, the unnatural violet of his eyes gleams as they roam over her form. Her lithe body seemed to be curled up into itself as her eyes scanned the pages. He was vaguely familiar with the book she was reading, something about a student murdering an old pawnbroker woman with an axe. Pretty morbid a topic for someone who looked as delicate as her, but frankly, he couldn’t care less. He had never been into the mundane, ordinary ones anyway.

He caught himself at that and blinked. Is that it? Am I ‘into her’? The notion seemed laughable, even in his head. No, that’s not it. The only people Fyodor has ever been into are ones he can use somehow and all she looks like are delicate curves and soft melodies and he could use her too if he wanted to, but that’s the thing. He doesn’t want to simply use her.

She looks so tranquil, he thinks, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. But Fyodor knew that to not be the case, because he had seen her eyes flitting up in his direction one too many times for it to be a coincidence. Once more, her eyes idly leave the book and flit across the room for a while, before landing on his own dark ones. She blinks and tilts her head a little. When he doesn’t look away, she smiles a little and he can’t help but think that he wouldn’t mind possessing a pretty little thing such as her. He’s much too cunning and much too cold to call it love. Love is for children, after all. Or humans, at least, and Fyodor has never really been able to look at himself as a human being anyway.

He wouldn’t lie to himself, he does want her. But a part of him would almost feel bad for tainting her like that. She seems sweeter than the sugar in his coffee while his soul is darker than a black hole and anyone can tell you that black and sweet do not belong together but he knows, he knows that delicate hand of hers will fit in his cold one like a puzzle piece. So what if he has to break her a little to make it fit?

The thought startles him more than it should, not because he’s not capable of it (he is) but because why would he ever take such pains just to get a person? Perhaps it would make more sense if you look at her as a thing instead of a person, because if there’s something Fyodor wants, he will get it, everyone else be damned. But he has never felt that way towards a person. He doesn’t think, doesn’t want to think he’s capable of it either, so for now, she’s simply a thing that he wants.

By now, the coffee cup sits empty at her table. She closes the book and gets up, and Fyodor feels something almost akin to panic in his chest, like something very important is slipping through his fingers like sand. Perhaps it is. But then she comes over to him.

“Nice hat.” She says, her voice every bit as melodious and warm as he had imagined it to be. If only it was warm enough to melt the ice inside of him.

“Is it now?” he looks up and fiddles with the ushanka unconsciously.

She giggles and shakes her head lightly as she places a piece of paper in front of him. He blinks and looks at her but she’s already leaving, light on her feet as she gets out the door and finally out of his sight.

As he looks down at the piece of paper, she left for him, an involuntary smirk graces his delicate features. A name and a phone number. What a stroke of luck that he didn’t even have to put in any effort. And to think he was almost about to let her go too. A part of him wonders whether she realizes what she has just done.

“Oh, princess…did no one ever tell you not to invite the demon inside?”

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take my hand (take my whole life too) by gayniemingjue, saradathesalad

Fandoms: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)

Summary

Meng Yao was used to rumours about him circulating through the Nie Sect, most unflattering, many about how he had used unsavoury methods taught by his mother to gain his position in the sect. While he was not particularly fond of these rumours, he was not surprised by them. People are always fond of being cruel to those they know will not fight back. So, no, he was not surprised by the many rumours about him sleeping with Nie Mingjue.

However, he was surprised by the latest rumour churned out by the gossip mill; apparently, he and Sect Leader Nie had eloped while visiting the Cloud Recesses.

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take my hand (take my whole life too)

bituin

Summary:

When Taehyung realized he isn’t really in love with Yoongi, he has already set the yacht, the roses, the candle light dinner, a group of string musicians and an expensive white gold ring for his equally lavish proposal. Yoongi is also standing in front of him, befuddled and probably weirded out. Desperate times call for desperate measures; Taehyung hauls his confused turned absolutely mortified life-long best friend Jimin, gets on one knee and pops the question.

Or the au where Taehyung should have probably thought over a million times before proposing to his “first love” that he isn’t really in a relationship with (nor is he even that in love with) and Jimin is his enabler of a best friend who realized way too late that he should really stop letting Taehyung have his way.

Notes:

MY FIRST VMIN FIC ASJNANSA please be nice to me nn;;

this will probably run for 3 to 4 chapters also im nervous about this i haven’t posted a fic in so long haha

Chapter 1: only fools rush in

Chapter Text

When Taehyung realized he isn’t really in love with Yoongi, he has already set the yacht, the roses, the candle light dinner, a group of string musicians and an expensive white gold ring for his equally lavish proposal in the middle of the sea. Yoongi is also standing in front of him, befuddled and probably weirded out.

The heat of the night is also starting to take its toll, seeping in the sleek black suit he bought specifically for this special evening. He brushes a hand over his russet hair and if he notices that his fingers are trembling a little, he tries not to let it show. Ah, this moment, the supposed ‘Tonight is the night!’ as he has dubbed it a million times. The violinist is playing a classic 90s love song and at the corner of his eye he could still make out the dock they came from. For a moment, he thinks of the row of fireworks set up to light up their night sky once Jimin gives the signal. Seriously it’s all proper romantic and Taehyung knows, he knew, this could easily be the proposal of the century. Now if only he’s sure there’s a proposal happening in the first place.

Yoongi clears his throat and it successfully brings Taehyung back to the present. He stares down at him, all cool and handsome and the love of Taehyung’s life ever since he first saw him in the hallways of his old high school. He’s smart and gorgeous, and albeit the silence and close-off aura, he’s humble and kind. He’s never affectionate but he’s thoughtful and caring to Taehyung in his own way all those years that the hopeless boy just can’t be blamed if he fell madly in love with him. He’s also the son of Director Min, one of the shareholders of Grandpa’s company, so if there’s any perfect choice as Taehyung’s husband, Min Yoongi certainly takes the spot.

Of course the family is so keen for this one other person but like, that’s never going to happen.

Taehyung has been dreaming of this moment since he’s 15. except in his fantasies he’s the one at the receiving end. Unfortunately, nine years after, Yoongi has been really slow on the uptake that they are soul mates. Taehyung, being the oh so smart guy that he is, decides to take matters in his own hands.

‘Probably not so smart now,’ he thinks to himself, the lump in his throat getting bigger by the second, the weight in his left pocket getting heavier as the clock ticks.

“Taehyungie? Is everything alright?”

A few minutes ago, Taehyung would have melted just by the look of concern on Yoongi’s beautiful face, paired with such an attentive voice. These have always been effective in sending Taehyung to fit of giggles before, a normal reaction seeing it’s his soul mate but. right now, Taehyung isn’t even sure anymore.

He could make out someone’s figure at the corner of his eye. Jimin, obviously, now out of his hiding place to check what’s going on. He’s the one to give the signal to light the fireworks after all, being Taehyung’s trusted accomplice in preparing the entirety of this thing, despite being grumpy and grumble-y throughout the process.

Whatever, he can never say no to Taehyung. Ride or die, the two of them. Ride or die, since they’re four.

Well, more like when they realized they’re going to be stuck together being best friends and all and Taehyung actually did take advantage of the fact that they are sworn besties for life—

Fuck, he needs to focus. Yoongi, his perfect prince charming, the supposed love of his life, his future husband and father of his babies. even thinking about all those seemed to be a very strange concept now. But how is it even possible to fall out of love so fast when he’s been loving him for nine years? How could he even realize that right now?

Shit, Jimin is going to be so angry. He’s going to be understanding, Taehyung knew. But he’s still going to be so angry.

But it’s not like he can actually push through this? He’s not in love with Yoongi. But the yacht, the dinner, the stringed quartet, the fireworks, the white gold ring!

Taehyung has to push through this.

Yoongi holds his arm gently, clear worry written on his face. Taehyung thinks he probably looks like he’s having a panic attack at the moment. He feels like he’s about to have one to be honest.

He hears rather than sees Jimin approaching. That idiot, he should be hiding in his spot right now, shouldn’t ruin the moment like Taehyung has specifically told him to do so. But there’s no moment to ruin, is there? Because Taehyung can’t actually do this.

He has to do it though.

He grabs his hand even before he could say a word.

Everything’s a blur after that.

Though in all fairness, Taehyung vividly remembers hauling his innocent victim by the arm and kneeling before him even before the poor guy has the chance to understand what’s happening. The weight on his left pocket is suddenly gone because the velvet blue box is now over his palm, a white gold ring perched prettily on top of it.

Those he can recall pretty clearly, even the way Jimin stares at him wide-eyed when he finally caught on the fact that this, without a doubt, the most idiotic scheme Taehyung ever came up with.

He might also remember Yoongi blinking, puzzled, eyes shifting between Taehyung kneeling on the floor and Jimin standing in front of him, mortified beyond belief.

Yep that’s it, that’s when all hell break loose to be honest.

One person. Plus a couple more.

A bunch actually.

And if Taehyung would even be more specific.

An overly excited Jung Hoseok has jumped on Jimin’s back, a brilliant grin on his face. Behind him is Namjoon, Taehyung’s cousin, rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics but as soon as his eyes meet Taehyung’s, he’s beaming with joy. Seokjin is smirking back at him with his arm around a bewildered but somehow amused Jungkook. Their mothers are holding each other’s hands, eyes teary but their faces scream happiness they’re failing to contain. Their fathers are grinning beside Corporate Secretary Ahn. Their close family friends are gathered behind, clapping and beaming for the two of them. In the middle of the group stands Jimin’s grandfather, tall and strong even at his age, his eyes glassy, his face euphoric.

“Your grandfather would be so proud, Taehyung-ah.”

Yoongi still looks confused, but he starts smiling and clapping with the rest as soon as Hoseok leaps off of Jimin to wrap his arms around him.

Taehyung’s still kneeling on the floor. Jimin is still shell-shock, red-faced and petrified.

There are about ten reporters and photographers gathered around the little scene they’re making and tomorrow, the story of how two of South Korea’s young hotel heirs got engaged will be headlining every business and lifestyle section of newspapers all over the country.

Taehyung knows he’s going to get in so much trouble for this.

He also knows that’s the last thing he has to worry about.

Jimin grabs the back of his head, swerving back just as quickly and finding his grandfather eyeing him sharply, the elder pulling back the hand he evidently just hit Jimin with. The rest of the family stands a few steps back, Taehyung breathing a sigh of relief that they’re now far from those blinding camera flashes and prying eyes.

Everything is a mess. It’s kind of his fault.

«Don’t talk to your future husband like that,» Grandpa Park utters, voice low and stern. He always look strict, a permanent frown etch on his forehead. He looks a lot like Jimin, moves a lot like Jimin to be honest and Taehyung has always envisioned his best friend to grow old like Grandpa, but less on the forehead wrinkles and more on the laugh lines and cheeky grins. A Grandpa Jimin. He’s going to be the tiniest grandfather ever-

«Grandpa!» Jimin’s whine brings Taehyung back and immediately he’s reminded of their current predicament. He presses his lips together, suddenly finding the yacht’s wooden floor pattern interesting.

«You should show respect to your future husband. You’ll build a home and a family with him. Your manners are seriously so terrible you-«

«Grandpa! Are you even hearing yourself! He’s not my future husband!»

When Taehyung takes it to account, Grandpa Park’s wrinkles probably has a lot to do with Jimin. He isn’t exactly a brat, he’s childish and mischievous at best, but Jimin tends to think maturely even back then. Taehyung has been with him through everything, as Jimin has been with him and all those years Taehyung learnt a lot from him. They learnt a lot from each other.

That doesn’t mean Jimin couldn’t act like one when he wants to.

«You seriously want to get a—“

«Can I have a moment with Jiminie please? Everyone?» Taehyung calls out just as Namjoon and their dads hold Grandpa. Jimin’s already ducking behind the nearest person, who happens to be Taehyung’s mom. He’s shameless really, he cursed and whined about him in front of their families and now he’s seeking help from Taehyung’s mother. But then again, they have been the unofficial sons of each other’s parents since they were kids, so it doesn’t really make a difference.

“He’s not your fiancé though.”

All eyes are suddenly on Jungkook, his head tilted to the side. Yoongi stands beside him and Taehyung tries not to look because he’s still unsure how to deal with him and his feelings right now.

“Um, Jimin-hyung didn’t really say yes?” Jungkook supplies awkwardly when it falls quiet and Taehyung gulps because yes, yes Jimin didn’t really say anything. Through all the commotion earlier, Taehyung just stood up and slipped off the ring around Jimin’s finger in haste, smiling and waving gracelessly before he was hauled by a very flustered and angry Park Jimin to the nearest secluded compartment.

“Yet! He hasn’t answered me yet. That’s why we need to talk about it!” Taehyung supplies, already motioning for their families to leave.

“Oh we’ll talk plenty alright!” Jimin retorts, eyes boring daggers at Taehyung and the other averts his gaze and smiles tightly.

Seokjin and Namjoon, bless them, start ushering the rest of the family out, saying they should let the newly-engaged couple sort this out. Jungkook lingers a little longer by the door, engaging a weird and wordless conversation with Jimin that doesn’t sit quite too right for Taehyung. He doesn’t have the chance to dwell on it because Jimin’s already scowling at him with such intensity he never really seen directed at him in all the years they’re together.

“I really hope you have a good explanation about this Kim Taehyung, I swear to God.”

And that’s the problem, in all honesty.

Taehyung doesn’t really have one.

“You both are. It’s a match.”

Jimin glares at a snickering Jungkook, muttering how this isn’t really the time to joke around. He groans at the reminder of everything that occurred a few hours ago, slumping over the counter of the little bar the exclusive yacht holds for its VIPs. His phone hasn’t stopped ringing beside him and Jimin refuses to answer it, perhaps filled with congratulatory messages of his sudden engagement. He fights the urge to chuck it to the nearest waste bin and maybe he’s impulsive and idiot of a best friend along with it.

Okay that’s too much.

He can’t really throw Taehyung away no matter what.

«It’s a bit your fault too you know, every little thing about this proposal’s leading to disaster. You should’ve stopped him the moment he asked for help.» Namjoon remarks beside Jungkook and Jimin glowers at him even though, deep down, he knows what he said is the truth.

«That’s because he knows you’re too easy for him.” Namjoon says calmly, taking a sip of his drink.

“And your engagement isn’t circulating in every news outlet in the country right now.” Jungkook voices out, eyes fixed on his phone as he scrolls down the top trending news on popular search sites.

Jimin glares at Jungkook just as his phone rings for the umpteenth time that night. He groans from his seat and guzzles down a shot.

«It’s not a big deal! Scandals happen all the time! We’ll just let this be, wait until the buzz goes out and «break up! We don’t even need to get married!»

Seokjin isn’t saying anything but Taehyung can feel the judgment emitting from his entire being. He turns his gaze away and inspects the painting hanging on top artificial fire place. The yacht boasts a couple of really good rooms and facilities. Jimin did a good job looking for it.

He has been biting his bottom lip a little too much that evening. He wondered if it’s red and swollen by now.

“I don’t know where you were for the past years but I’ve been with you guys long enough to know your mothers are dreaming about this since the day you came out.”

Taehyung bites his bottom lip even harder, the bitter taste of iron on the tip of his tongue.

Yep, definitely red and swollen.

«Your parents are practically waiting for this day to come. Grandpa especially. It’s like a dream come true!»

Jimin whines louder, head buried over his arms on the bar’s marble counter. Jungkook chuckles in amusement, earning him another glower from Jimin.

“This isn’t a laughing matter Kook.”

«What if they do something crazy?» Namjoon muses loudly even more, ignoring Jimin’s protests for them stop.

«We just have to break up before this something crazy happens. Don’t jinx it for the love of God.” Jimin mutters, lifting his head up only to cradle it on his palms. He feels tired. It has been a long evening. “It’s quite busy in the office right now, what with the international expansion and the upcoming sports fest. Their schedules are way too packed to do something.”

«And what if they’re finally find the time to work on this whole thing?”

«This engagement’s already off by then.»

Jungkook stops swiping on his phone to lock eyes with Jimin. Jimin pretends not to see it and takes another shot.

«We could stage up a fight. Or that we knew a little too much about each other to get married! Seriously we just need to break up.” Taehyung utters, his voice a little too enthusiastic he sounds like he’s convincing himself more than Seokjin.

Seokjin doesn’t look convinced and neither does Taehyung.

He still tries to be optimistic.

«Seriously, this is nothing. In a few weeks, another young rich kid is going to mess up and the media will feast on them and forget about this engagement. I’m telling you, hyung. No worries. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?»

“Grandpa is going to kill me.”

Taehyung stares with his mouth agape, Jimin mirroring his expression beside him. They stand in front of a house, a huge, modern two-storey house standing in one of the peaceful, expensive and exclusive neighborhood in the city if Taehyung would get into specifics. It probably rivals Taehyung’s own childhood home and he gulps just thinking of how much Jimin’s grandfather has spent on this in such a short notice.

How could they even find a house up for gift giving two days after a damn fake proposal?

It’s a huge house, with pristine white walls and big spotless glass windows. A small garden decorates the side, surrounding a man-made Koi pond Jimin would probably gawk at if he isn’t too busy trying not to faint right now. A wooden swing sits near the koi pond, a dog house a few meters beside it. Taehyung blinks and tries not to gape even more.

It’s all very homey.

The interior is even worse.

There are photos of them everywhere, from the living room walls to Polaroid snaps stuck on their kitchen’s huge fridge. There are pictures from their toddler days, to the summer trips they alternately spends in Daegu or Busan back when they’re little, to the middle school and high school photos with their friends, until the very recent trip with the whole family in Europe last winter. Their mothers enthusiastically haul them to every room, pointing out each and every detail they obviously thought too well.

They take a break after about an hour of looking over the place, Jimin’s mother giggling with Taehyung’s as they shamelessly refer to each other as in laws over their little snack. Jimin decides he has enough of it and leaves the kitchen, Taehyung quietly trailing behind.

They’re quiet as they sit on the huge, really comfortable couch on the living room, facing the photo montage wall Jimin obviously is attempting to ignore. It’s a difficult task though, it kinda occupies about half of the wall.

The shelves and side tables aren’t spared, frame photographs of the two of them are perch on each. Taehyung decides to overlook what seems to be a photo of them from two nights before, when all these madness started; he really doesn’t want to think how much effort their families have exerted for coming up with all these.

«Wow your family really likes me.» Taehyung wonders out loud which, kind of a bad idea.

Jimin is glaring at him from where he sits.

«Well no shit, Taehyung.” He sneers, letting his head falls over the headrest and draping an arm over his eyes. “We were practically engaged since we were kids. Our moms almost threw a party when they found out we’re gay—“

“Please don’t remind me.” Taehyung mutters, flashbacks of their moms repeatedly albeit inconspicuously (or as inconspicuous as their moms could, honestly) asking them if they’re finally seeing each other haunts his mind.

«How can they make this up in such a short notice-«

“Well, um.” Taehyung bites his bottom lip, his hands now squeezed in between his thighs. Jimin lifts his head up a little to stare at Taehyung and he pales even more at the scrutiny.

“I might have hinted something about my planned proposal?” he admits sheepishly and Jimin groans loudly. “But I didn’t think they’ll assume it’s you! It’s not like my crush with Yoongi-hyung’s a secret I mean—“

He presses his lips together. He’s not really ready to talk about Yoongi just yet. He wonders if he’ll ever be.

His feelings are a blur even to himself.

He hears Jimin heaved a sigh and then suddenly there’s his best friend head on his lap, Jimin’s legs thrown haphazardly over the couch, his handsome face looking a little tired, his eyes close.

Jimin speaks before Taehyung could ask.

“I need to lie down for a bit. Keep quiet.” He mutters in an exhausted voice, his eyebrows frowning a little, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looks stressed. Taehyung almost apologizes on the spot.

Instead his forefinger hovers over Jimin’s small nose, ghosting over the bridge before gently pressing over the frown between his best friend’s eyebrows. His other hand plays gently over Jimin’s soft brown locks, the action effectively pacifying the tension off his friend and smoothing the frown on his forehead. He’ll probably get stressed about it again later and Taehyung should probably properly apologize as well but for now,

For now he keeps playing with Jimin’s hair and hums a soft melody to lull him to sleep.

“You have to admit it’s kinda adorable.”

Jimin glares at him even harder, Taehyung is a tad amazed how that is even possible. He should probably stop joking around, Jimin looks like he’s set to murder him. Okay Taehyung, stop overreacting. This is Jimin, he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Kim Taehyung I want to strangle you right now.”

Okay maybe he would. Understandable. It’s not everyday he gets proposed at out of the blue, in front of his family, with about a couple of reporters documenting each and every second of it.

“You have five seconds to explain what just happened before I do strangle you—“

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” Taehyung is kneeling rightaway, his palms pressed together over his head. He knows Jimin isn’t really going to strangle him, he loves Taehyung way too much to actually hurt him. Taehyung knows he should probably stop taking advantage of the fact, but he knows it’s not a lie either. Jimin wouldn’t intentionally hurt him.

Taehyung would never either.

“Where did they even come from?” Jimin whines and Taehyung isn’t sure if he’s pertaining to the reporters or their family but he has the same answer anyway.

“Um… I might have gotten ahead of myself and thought it would be great to have our families witness my proposal to Yoongi-hyung. Plus a few media attention wouldn’t hurt so—“

“I know, I know.” He cries, even going as far as hugging Jimin’s legs. Jimin groans and pushes his face off his crotch, grabbing his arm and hauling him up. He’s crimson from his neck to the tip of his ears and Taehyung vaguely wonders if he’s blushing from anger or something else.

Taehyung wishes it’s the latter. Whatever that something else is.

“Okay, I need to know this most importantly though.”

Taehyung waits, eyeing Jimin back though he perfectly knows what his question would be.

“Why didn’t you propose to Yoongi-hyung?”

Taehyung isn’t even lying.

The buzz surrounding their engagement dwindles down after a week and for that Taehyung is thankful. He knows a wedding is what everyone’s expecting from them now and the media’s just waiting for the official wedding date or the chance to ambush them in an interview to get all the details. He tries his best to avoid that from happening and by trying he means locking him up in his penthouse.

Jimin still refuses to talk to him and Taehyung sulks because he misses him a lot. He knows he’s at fault though so even though he really wants to see him, he waits for him to come to him first. For now he busies himself with binge-watching dramas and eating ice cream. He tries to stay away from the internet as much as possible, the engagement buzz must have decrease but there are conspiracy theories and haters flocking the comment section of news sites every now and then. Taehyung doesn’t really see the point, they’re not even celebrities. But that’s real world, Taehyung thinks, some people gets the satisfaction talking about other people.

He’s choking over a funny episode of Strong Woman Do Bong Soon when his doorbell rings, Taehyung glaring at the intruder and deliberates if he should answer it even. He follows his heart (and his lazy bum) and ignores it, he knows he’ll receive a call if it’s something important.

He’s slapping his leg from laughing over a scene when his door bursts open making Taehyung jump off his seat. Chips splutter all over the place and it’s all proper mess really but there’s only one person who knows Taehyung’s passcode and is also the very same person Taehyung wants to see.

There’s a wild look on Jimin’s face as he stares at Taehyung, his eyes shifting all over the place and Taehyung is half expecting him to reprimand him for cluttering the apartment.

Jimin’s eyes linger a little longer over Taehyung’s phone on the other side of the couch.

“What are you doing?” He asks finally.

“Watching! And eating, I mean there’s really not much to do—,”

“You haven’t checked the web or anything?” Jimin is still gripping the door and Taehyung frowns at the way he keeps eyeing his phone.

“Um, no? I’m not interested with what the media has to say.”

“Not even Naver or… I don’t know, Twitter? Facebook?”

Taehyung blinks and tilts his head a little. Jimin looks dead serious.

At his answer Jimin seems to be relieved, shutting the door at last to join Taehyung on the couch. He scrunches his nose with how messy the place is, starts to reprimand Taehyung on what has he been doing all these time and why can’t he tidy his own place like a proper adult.

He’s acting so weird and smiling way too big and it’s the fifth time since he came in that he asks Taehyung if he’s all good that Taehyung realizes something’s going on.

He’s way too nice. He just told Taehyung he wanted to strangle him a week ago.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

His eyes shifts to Taehyung’s phone again and he must have deemed his mistake because he launches for it the same time Taehyung does.

Jimin reaches it first but Taehyung straddles him, quickly looping his long legs around his best friend’s waist, effectively pinning him down on the couch. He grabs both of his hands and pinned them over his head as well, grinning as he manages to grab the phone off of Jimin’s hold. He’s visibly taller but Jimin is stronger so in an instant they’re flipped, Jimin hovering above him. They’re a mess of tangled arms and limbs and Jimin is snatching his phone away but Taehyung is a cheater at best if the necessity calls for it so he yelps and groans loudly, earning him a frantic look from Jimin, quickly checking if he’s hurt somewhere.

Taehyung should really stop taking advantage with how much Jimin cares for him.

Today’s not the day though.

He flips them back at Jimin’s first sign of weakness and this time he is quick to grab the phone off Jimin, then he wraps his arms around his best friend’s neck as well, effectively trapping Jimin in his hold. He laughs as Jimin tries to break free and he presses a kiss on Jimin’s temple before squeezing him tighter.

“Stop fighting Jimminie.” He laughs and he almost forgets why they’re in this position for a moment until Jimin squeaks for him not to check Facebook.

Of course that’s the first thing Taehyung does.

The reaction is instantaneous.

His hold on Jimin loosens just as Jimin stops fighting. Jimin is out of his grasp and he’s just sitting on his lap, his phone gripped tightly in fingers. Jimin is looking at him, observing him, his eyes sad and sorry.

Taehyung isn’t sure what to feel himself.

His phone still lights up with the top post from his Facebook newsfeed.

Min Yoongi is in a relationship with Jung Hoseok.

Taehyung has had his heart broken for quite a few times.

There’s that girl he kissed in Daegu when he’s six, who broke his heart right after when she told him she didn’t like his kiss and Jimin cheered him up by helping him pick strawberries. There’s that boy he has a huge crush on when he’s thirteen, the same boy that made him realize he’s gay. He’s also straight as a pole and Jimin held him while he tried to forget how he was let down because the boy’s dating the pretty girl from the next classroom.

And then there’s Min Yoongi. Grumpy and short-tempered but thoughtful and kind. Taehyung has never really gotten to the point of confessing his feelings but he knew it has been pretty obvious through the years. He knew Yoongi wasn’t that oblivious and Taehyung was never that subtle either. Even so nothing really happened, and for nine years, for every day Yoongi isn’t his, Taehyung broke his own heart from hoping.

This one feels a little different.

Jimin holds his hand as they sit on the couch, their thighs press together as they sit close. The TV’s on mute, the place still a mess. His phone lies forgotten, but not the news that came with it.

“I don’t know.” Taehyung admits after a beat and he feels Jimin presses their palms together a little tighter. Taehyung spreads his fingers and let Jimin’s short ones curl in between his.

“ Am I hurt? A little, I guess? I mean, I did have feelings for him. Do I still have them? I’m not sure. But I’m more hurt thinking they’re probably together all this time and they hid it because they don’t want to hurt me, which just… sucks. I feel like I’ve been really selfish for so long and a lot of you guys are suffering because of it.»

Jimin whimpers and cuddles closer, his chin resting on Taehyung’s shoulder.

«You know that’s not true. Okay so they’re together? But they hid it because it’s their choice. Don’t blame yourself. You’re one of the most selfless persons I know Taehyungie.”

Taehyung scoffs. It’s laughable but he doesn’t really feel like laughing.

«Am I? I’m dragging you in this mess I made myself, didn’t I? I’m a burden.”

«You say that because you’re my best friend.»

«I’m your best friend so you know that I only say the truth»

«You just said the other day that you want to strangle me.»

Taehyung chuckles and sighs. It’s still all a blur, even his feelings for Yoongi. But for now, he has Jimin, like he always has all those years. For every stupid decisions, for every heart break.

That’s enough for now.

«You still hate me?»

Jimin sighs and snuggles closer. «I don’t hate you. I mean, you know I couldn’t.»

“You looked like you’re about to mangle me back then.”

“I was seriously thinking about it.”

Taehyung laughs and tilts his head a little so he can bury his nose on Jimin’s head.

They’re quiet for a few seconds until Taehyung speaks out.

“But is it really bad? Getting engaged with me? Being with me?”

Taehyung meant it to be a joke. He really does. He meant to say it lightly, try to ease the sadness, pretend he’s alright. But insecurity laces with his words, his voice shifts a tad and like the pieces of his heart, Jimin is quick to pick it up.

“Of course not, Tae. It’s already a given that I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. We will always be in each other’s lives.”

Taehyung tries to ignore the warmth that bloom in his chest. He already knew Jimin will always be there.

“It’s just, it’s stupid.”

“No, you were clearly bothered. You didn’t talk to me for days Jimin. It’s not us not to talk for days.” Taehyung pouts but he decides not to sulk too much. This is Jimin’s turn to open up.

Jimin breathes, his whole body now leaning on Taehyung. When he speaks he sounds tired, and Taehyung lets go of his hand so he can wrap an arm around him.

“I just don’t like it that the decision was robbed off me. Or that I was in this even before I was ready. We’ve made so many spontaneous and stupid things together Taehyungie, but this, this is different. This is big.”

Taehyung squeezes his arm. So maybe the engagement was really blown out of proportion, and they have a lot of explaining to do with the media and their families.

Especially their families.

“But Jiminie,” He utters softly, without thought. “It’s not even real.”

There’s a pause. Taehyung feels Jimin stiffens for a moment, but then he relaxes right back in Taehyung’s arms.

“It isn’t. Right?” Jimin whispers softly.

“Yes! I mean I know the scandal is stupid and it might scare your future husband away but we could explain the situation when the day comes. It’s not like you actually have someone right now.” Taehyung chuckles and he waits for Jimin to follow suit but he doesn’t. Taehyung halts and looks at Jimin.

He’s avoiding his gaze.

“Wait, you don’t have someone now, right?”

Taehyung thinks of Jimin dating all those years, thinks how he never really had a serious relationship. They’re mostly flings, just short, fleeting ones. He doesn’t even remember a permanent fixture except Jimin’s first boyfriend who happened to be Seokjin. Taehyung is going to hell for thinking it but he sure as glad the relationship was over quickly. He still can’t quite grasp the image of Jimin and Seokjin together. A boyfriend Jimin. Somehow Taehyung is foreign at the thought.

“Wouldn’t you be the first to know?” Jimin says after a while, a faint smile on his lips.

Taehyung lets out a sigh he isn’t aware he’s holding.

He has Jimin now. His heart is broken, kind of, but he has Jimin. He has Jimin all to himself right now.

He should really stop being selfish as well. But today’s not the day.

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Take My Whole Life Too

scout (scout_eki)

Summary:

“Y’know, I never actually thought we’d make it to this point.” Techno’s words echoed through the clearing the two were standing in, flowers both at their feet and also tucked into Dream’s hair, per the blond’s request. Techno’s hands were intertwined with his beloved’s, half supporting him while standing and half just filling the constant need to be close. Dream looked beautiful under the midday sun, his skin practically glowing. The pinkette was suddenly struck with how different current-Dream is from ten-months-ago-Dream, who was being tortured daily by the same man who is now dead underground, courtesy of Techno’s hands.

Or: the five times Dream and Techno talked about marriage and the one time they made it a reality

Notes:

this was originally just gonna be the last two scenes but then I thought «hey, might as well make this a 5 +1»

sorry if this sucks I wrote it in 5 hours and I am so tired

the title is from «Can’t Help Falling in Love» by Elvis Presley cause I’m tired and don’t want to think go anything else

WARNING // there are references to emotional abuse, bad parenting, explosions, mentions of torture but nothing explicit

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The first time Dream and Techno talked about marriage, they were too young to truly grasp the concept.

The two boys, no older than six, were chasing each other in the woods, giggling whenever one would catch the other, when Phil appeared in a nearby clearing, calling out for Techno. Dream had looked at the pinkette in confusion, garnering a matching expression in response, before they both walked over to the older blond. The man was standing there with a small smile on his face, his wings loosely tucked in behind him.

“Hey, Techno, we gotta go, remember?” The aforementioned boy glanced at Dream, confusion still evident on his face, before his expression suddenly smoothed out as he nodded at his father. Dream was still confused as the man, who interrupted his playing time with Techno, reached out a hand for the pinkette to grasp.

“Where are you guys going?” Dream looked at Techno for a response, his answer coming in the form of a shrug of small shoulders. The blond then directed his gaze to Techno’s father, furrowing his eyebrows in a silent way to direct his question towards the older blond. Phil smiled at Dream, his free hand shooting out to ruffle Dream’s hair, who pouted in response.

“Techno and I are attending a wedding, Dream, but we won’t be gone long, don’t worry.” Dream only furrowed his brows further, looking over to Techno, who shrugged in response again. Phil, as if noticing his continued confusion, spoke again. “Do you know what a wedding is, Dream?” Dream shook his head, Phil smiling and dropping down to the two boys’ level before speaking again. “A wedding is when two people, who love each other very much, get married.”

“What does ‘married’ mean?” Dream scolded himself in his head, remembering Puffy’s words about how speaking too quickly after people talked wasn’t good; Phil didn’t seem to mind, smiling lightly, but Dream still felt guilty.

“Marriage is when two people, who love each other more than anybody else in the world, promise each other that they’ll always love them. Weddings are held to celebrate the love between a pair, or group, of people, and rings are exchanged as a symbol of love that will last for an eternity.” Dream nodded, trying to digest Phil’s words without confusing himself.

When he finally felt as though he understood, he nodded, turning to his friend with a determined expression on his face. “Techno, let’s get married.”

Phil sputtered near the two boys, but they both ignored him. Techno shrugged towards Dream, a flippant gesture that was broken by a small smile appearing on the pinkette’s face. “Sure.” Dream cheered, hugging Techno, before separating himself when he remembered Puffy’s words about his hugs always being too long.

“I can get rings for us, and we can have a wedding someday!” Techno nodded in response, looking more excited by the second.

“That’s not- y’know what, never mind. You two can get married one day, be my guest.” Both of the children were now cheering, Dream forgetting entirely about Techno having to leave before Phil grabbed the pinkette’s hand again. “Alright, we really have to go though. Say bye to Dream, Techno.”

“Bye, Dream, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dream beamed, unfinished plans of marrying his best friend swarming around his head, making it hard for him to focus.

“Bye, Tech! Have fun!” Techno smiled before Phil tugged him away, waving to Dream for as long as possible before they disappeared out of sight. Dream smiled to himself as he started the slow walk back to his house, thoughts of where to get matching rings filling his mind until it was the only thing he could think of.

The second time the two talked about marriage, they were old enough to understand what it actually was.

The two boys were nine when Dream crawled through Techno’s window at midnight, waking up the boy who was supposed to be resting after defending their village from a pillager raid earlier that day. Phil had basically put him on house arrest, stopping just short of locking Techno in his room like some sort of princess in the tales Phil reads to him and his brothers at night occasionally. Dream had helped him in the raid, but he wasn’t the one who blocked an arrow heading towards Phil, so he wasn’t forced to sit in bed all day.

“Tech! Tech! I just found out something about our marriage plan.” Techno rubbed his eyes, flicking on the light next to his bed so he could finally see the other boy, who was holding a book in his hand and eagerly looking at the piglin hybrid. Techno had never forgotten about the two boys’ promise of marriage, mainly because Dream never fails to bring it up once in a while, and he would like to say he didn’t care about it, to keep up his reputation, but he would be lying to both himself and the blond boy practically bouncing on his heels.

“Could it not wait until mornin’?” Techno’s eyes were hardly staying open, and he debated pushing Dream out of the window he came in from, before deciding that Phil’s anger at him wouldn’t be worth it.

“Nope, sorry.” Dream didn’t sound remotely sorry as he sat on the bed next to Techno, moving to sit up against the pinkette’s headboard. Techno pushed himself up on weak limbs, ignoring the pain from the arrow wound in his upper arm, before sitting next to Dream. The blond opened the large book on his lap, one that Techno distantly recognized as a gift from himself to the blond (well, Phil was the one who bought it, but Techno thought of the idea and handed it to Dream himself!) for his ninth birthday a few months prior.

“Well, you’ve already woken me up, so get on with it.” Dream nodded before flipping to a page he had dog-eared, running his fingers along the words as he supposedly read them, before stopping at a certain spot.

“Okay, okay, so- here,” Dream pointed towards a sentence in his book, one which Techno had to lean closer to see, “it talks about marriage between the gods. There’s Hera and Zeus, and Cronus and Rhea, and Persephone and Hades, which you probably know. But, here it talks about how marriage is between two people who are in love with each other, which means that they kiss and have babies and stuff.” Techno scrunched his face up, a laugh echoing out of Dream once he noticed. He leaned closer to the pinkette, who leaned away, almost falling over. “C’mon, Tech-”

“Dream, I am not kissing you, leave me alone.” The blond made obnoxious kissing noises towards Techno, who cringed and pushed Dream’s face away. The blond laughed in response, the wheezing sound echoing through the night. Techno rolled his eyes, sitting back up once he thought Dream was done, before (lightly) punching the blond repeatedly in the chest when Dream leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You suck, I hate you.”

Dream laughed again, weakly defending himself against the hits before falling back against the bedpost as he calmed down from his fit. “Yet, you’re still gonna marry me, Tech.”

“No, I’m taking it all back now, you’re too annoying.”

“I’ll force that ring on your finger, Techno!”

They ended up getting scolded by Phil for being up so late, but the fond feeling in Techno’s chest was worth it.

The third time Dream and Techno talked about marriage, they were fifteen and thought about the idea a little too much for best friends.

Dream hadn’t noticed his infatuation with Technoblade until it slammed into his face one day while the two were sparring. He had thought that everyone thought about their best friends all the time, and that everybody wanted to hold their best friend’s hand, and that everybody wanted to spend as much time with their best friend as possible, even to the point of marrying them. He had thought his growing feelings were completely normal, before he was forced to face the truth about his feelings on one sunday day in his favorite clearing in the woods.

Their sparring session had started out normally, with Dream just barely managing to beat Techno occasionally, the pinkette typically coming out on top, before it all went to shit once Dream started thinking about their stupid, immature marriage plan from when they were children. He doesn’t know why he suddenly started thinking about the topic right then and there, in the middle of blocking an attack from Techno, but there wasn’t any way to stop the idea from completely consuming his mind and almost making him forget where he was.

Techno, who probably had no idea why Dream suddenly stopped fighting back, easily knocked the blond’s axe away before shoving him over, straddling the younger’s hips with his sword at the blond’s neck. Dream’s eyes, which were usually hidden behind his mask (which he always forgoes for sparring sessions with Techno), were staring up into Techno’s ruby ones as he managed to somewhat gain his bearings back. The pinkette stared down at him, panting from exertion, and Dream could barely focus on anything besides the comfortable weight of the pinkette on top of him.

Dream was so distracted by Techno’s lips and how soft they must be that he failed to realize that the lips were moving before a hand was waved in front of his eyes. He jumped the most he could in his trapped position beneath the pinkette, looking up into Techno’s eyes which stared down at Dream, a questioning look in them. “You okay, nerd? You spaced out or somethin’.”

Dream distantly realized that Techno had dropped his sword, his hands resting on both sides of Dream’s head. “Do you ever think about getting married to me?” Now, if Dream wasn’t so distracted by Techno’s everything, he would’ve taken a second to consider his words before just blurting them out. When he realized what he said, he furiously tried to explain himself, a blush no doubt resting high on his cheeks. “I- I meant- the marriage plan we made- do you think about us- or, it, at all?” Again, if Dream was in the right state of mind, he would’ve remembered that his mother said his stuttering was annoying, but he’ll just berate himself for it later once he remembers this embarrassing interaction.

“What a weird way of askin’ me if I like you, Dream.” Techno was looking at him with a smug look, a smirk on his face that just barely showed the sharp canine teeth resting below soft-looking lips. Dream’s blush only grew, desperate attempts to explain himself spilling past his lips without abandon, before he was silenced by Techno’s pointer finger resting on his lips. “You talk too much.” Before Dream could make a snide comment back, Techno was placing his lips on Dream’s own, and he promptly forgot anything and everything about his current embarrassment.

Techno pulled back after a moment, resting his forehead against Dream’s as the two calmed down, before speaking again, a teasing lift to his words. “Does that answer your question?” Dream rolled his eyes, lifting a hand to the back of Techno’s neck before reconnecting their lips once again.

The fourth time the two men talked about marriage, they were twenty one and had just blown up the nation that caused all of their troubles.

The sound of explosions was an old friend of Dream, but it never felt more satisfying than during that moment. L’Manburg and its inhabitants had tarnished Dream’s reputation and relationships, and when he expressed his hatred towards it to his lover, Techno had eagerly agreed to make sure it would never do any more harm. The pinkette had managed to get his father to help from the sidelines, and Dream no longer felt the stab of jealousy of their bond as he did when he was younger.

The screams of citizens below Dream didn’t deter him in the slightest as he lit the last tnt, watching as it fell with a smile on his face before he started searching the ruins below for his beloved, barely able to see through the low clouds. He found Techno standing among the rubble, speaking with Tommy, the kid who single handedly ruined Dream’s life with a few carefully calculated rumors. Despite how much he loves annoying the kid, which Techno is a master at, he still has some lingering adrenalin that can only be dissolved in one way.

Sending a quick message to Techno, who looked at his communicator quickly before searching the skies for the sender of the messageーwhich he had no way of seeing, due to the clouds making it so only the bottom of the obsidian platform could be seen from the groundー, Dream sat on the cold obsidian while waiting for the pinkette to finish his dramatic monologue. Techno quickly screamed one last line at Tommy, which Dream probably couldn’t have heard even if his mind wasn’t clouded by thoughts of Techno and all the things he wants the pinkette to do to him, before ender pearling up onto the platform next to Dream.

“Dream-” Techno was interrupted when the aforementioned man pounced on him, hands sliding up to grasp onto pink strands as a pair of lips landed on his own, causing his breath to lodge in his throat. Techno’s hands slid to the blond’s waist as Dream deepened the kiss, a warm tongue sliding between the pinkette’s lips. When the two separated to catch their breaths, Techno murmured under his breath, meant for only Dream to hear. “Couldn’t even wait for me to be all sappy and wax poetic about how we’re finally free to get married and live a happy life without a stupid government breathin’ down our necks?”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Techno smirked, as if he was expecting Dream’s response, before listening to the man in front of him, diving back into the heaven that was his beloved’s lips.

The fifth time they talked about marriage, they were twenty two and Techno didn’t think they were going to make it to twenty three alive.

Not that he would ever admit it to Dream, but he didn’t have any hope for the two of them escaping. The will he had given Phil before he left was vague at best, but he desperately hoped that somehow his father would understand what he was trying to say. As the days dragged on, however, with absolutely no sign of anybody from the Syndicate, Techno started to lose hope.

The prison hadn’t been too bad in the startーafter all, he was able to spend time with Dream without people either getting suspicious or distracting themーbut that was before Quackity started visiting again. Techno had originally been furious when he found out why his beloved was covered in bruises and open wounds, but he knew, logically, there was nothing he could do while trapped in an obsidian box with Quackity on the outside.

That was until, of course, the black haired man started doing his daily visits again. Dream was a completely different person when Techno first entered the prison, with fear and pain layered on him, but Techno’s never seen Dream truly terrified until the lava lowered after a few weeks of Techno being in the prison, revealing a smiling Quackity with way-too-many weapons lining his person. Techno would never admit it out loud, but he was nervous while looking at Quackity, knowing he was practically powerless against him.

Now, Techno cradles Dream after a session, tears burning his eyes as Dream struggles for breath more than he usually does. Quackity had gone further this time, extending the torture to what felt like days before stopping, releasing Techno from his shackles against the wall before leaving. Quackity had taunted Techno during his torture, and Dream easily took the bait, defending the pinkette with whatever fight he had left, earning him a sadistic grin from Quackity before more wounds were built up along his body.

“Come on, come on, Dream, you can’t do this to me now, not right before we get out.” Techno was lying out of his ass about the last part, but Dream didn’t need to know that. The blond didn’t respond, his breathing still shallow and his body limp in Techno’s arms. Crimson eyes were shut tightly to block out tears before being opened again, staring down at Dream with sadness swirling in them. “We still have to get married, remember? You were always so excited about it, don’t tell me you forgot.” At this point, Techno wasn’t even sure Dream could still hear him, but the pinkette could still feel a faint pulse beneath his hand on Dream’s wrist, so he assumed the blond still could.

“Sorry, Tech.” Dream’s voice was scratchy, and it sounded like it hurt to talk. Techno quickly shushed the blond, his hand pushing Dream’s head further into the junction between Techno’s neck and shoulder. A shaky hand brought Techno’s left hand to a face covered in tears, both his own and Techno’s, before a small kiss was placed onto Techno’s ring finger. “‘M sorry.”

“Don’t.” Techno clenched his eyes shut at the gesture, further wrapping himself around Dream, ignoring the pain from his own minor injuries caused by taunting Quackity too much. “Don’t apologize, cause we’re still gonna get married. We’re gonna-” Techno cut himself off with a sob, which ricocheted through his body painfully. “We’re goin’ to get out of here, and we’ll have a small little weddin’, just for the two of us, and it’ll be all we’ve ever dreamed of.”

Dream’s breathing was slowing, and Techno could feel himself starting to lose all hope, before the blond spoke again, his words shaky and quiet. “Promise?”

Techno stifled a sob against Dream’s hair, pressing into the body in his arms as much as he allowed himself to without hurting Dream. “I promise.” It was an empty promise, but again, Dream didn’t need to know that.

“That sounds nice.” Dream’s words could barely be heard over the popping of the lava, but Techno managed to understand. He combed the hair out of Dream’s eyes before sobbing openly in the cell, clutching Dream as a lifeline, as if he was the one on his deathbed.

Techno didn’t hear the sound of the moving bridge coming his way, or the screams of two people outside, too focused on the blond in his arms.

The sixth time Dream and Techno talked about marriage, they were twenty three and had everything they ever wanted.

“Y’know, I never actually thought we’d make it to this point.” Techno’s words echoed through the clearing the two were standing in, flowers both at their feet and also tucked into Dream’s hair, per the blond’s request. Techno’s hands were intertwined with his beloved’s, half supporting him while standing and half just filling the constant need to be close. Dream looked beautiful under the midday sun, his skin practically glowing. The pinkette was suddenly struck with how different current-Dream is from ten-months-ago-Dream, who was being tortured daily by the same man who is now dead underground, courtesy of Techno’s hands.

“I honestly didn’t either!” Dream was beaming at Techno, who was smiling wider than he had in a while. Techno had wanted to get married right after Phil and the Syndicate had saved him and Dream, but due to the trauma of Dream having to adjust to both his wounds and the world around him, the two waited until the blond was explicitly ready. They probably should’ve waited a little longer, judging by the fact that Dream can only partly stand on his own, but they were both eager to fulfill the plan they’ve had for sixteen years now. “But, we did it, Tech! We made it.”

Techno smiled softly at the blond before placing a kiss on a scarred forehead, reaching into the pocket of his pants before pulling out the small bag he had dropped in there. Dream was practically buzzing with excitement as he watched Techno take out the rings the piglin hybrid had forged himself from the finest gold he could find. With the softest hands he could muster, Techno took Dream’s left hand, raising it to place a kiss on the skin there, before sliding the metal onto the appendage. Dream beamed at the sight before taking his own ring from Techno’s open hand, repeating the same process of kissing Techno’s finger before sliding it onto the pale skin.

The two were smiling at each other like giddy teenagers, and Techno couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward to place a kiss on Dream’s forehead, lingering afterwards to speak against the tan skin. “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

Dream smiled up at Techno once he pulled away, and the pinkette wondered how he lasted an entire ten months after escaping from prison without marrying Dream right then and there. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you did.” Dream leaned forward, interlocking both pairs of their hands before resting his head against Techno’s shoulder, puffs of air hitting Techno’s neck. “Thank you.»

“For what?” Techno attempted to look down at the blond, but it was proven extremely difficult in his position, so he settled for basking in the warmth of the blond.

Techno smiled, closing his eyes as he traced the hands in his own with his thumbs.

Notes:

recent lore streams (cough Sapnap’s cough) have made me sad about c!dream again so here I am

also in this world, dream never did anything wrong, Tommy was just lying to the masses cause he could and they easily believed him

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take my hand (take my whole life too)

AsheIsHere

Summary:

Monster /ˈmänstər/
noun
noun: monster; plural noun: monsters
an imaginary creature that is typically large, ugly, and frightening.

God /ɡäd/
noun
a superhuman being or spirit worshiped as having power over nature or human fortunes; a deity.

—
Twenty-fifth Baam has been called a monster, or a god. Some have argued that he is both. Khun disagrees.

Notes:

Same heads up as before: this is not proofread. I might go back through later and fix some spelling errors and whatnot, but as of now, this is unedited.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Baam has been called many things throughout his climb in the tower. The most common were monster, or a god. Sometimes, it was both.

Khun completely disagrees with both sentiments. In the time he’s known the boy who suddenly appeared in the Tower all those years ago, he’s learned that Baam is many things. Is Baam powerful? Absolutely. Is Baam a monster or god? Absolutely not.

He was nothing like either of those words. He was so much more than that.

Baam is compassionate.

Khun looked at the boy outside of the airship. He was just hovering, not moving a single inch. Khun felt his chest tighten as he quickly grabbed his coat and exited the ship, flying over to him on the top of his lighthouse.

«Baam!» he called as he neared him. Khun suppressed a shiver, bundling his coat tighter around him. The cold wind outside the Nest felt like it was cutting directly into his bones, even with the fire-fish inside of him. «Are you alright?»

Baam jumped slightly as he turned towards the sound of Khun’s voice. «Khun. » As he turned to face him, Khun’s heart dropped. Blood trickled down the left side of his face, although it seemed that the boy had yet to notice it. «White suddenly getting stronger. That was you, right? We made it out alive, but that was dangerous. Please give me a heads up next time.»

«I’m fine,” Baam replied turning to face him completely. “Actually, I feel like I’m overflowing with power. I’m sure I can go to the next wall right now-«

Baam’s voice stopped as Khun opened his arms towards him. After a moment’s hesitation, he fell forward, burying his face into Khun’s chest and bringing his arms up to wrap around him. Khun felt him shaking against him as he gently cradled his head.

«Everything’s going to be okay,” he said below his breath. “The souls. they must have lent you their power because they knew you would put it to good use.»

«It’s not your fault.” Bam’s hands clenched on his coat. “You were right. I revived White’s power using the souls of those who died in this battle. And I didn’t even think about them when I was gathering them; I didn’t feel anything. White probably didn’t either.” Khun exhaled, stroking the quivering boy’s head gently.

”The fact that you felt for them tells me that you’re different. Don’t you ever doubt that heart of yours.» He felt Baam’s breath hitch, but he kept going.

«You know, I’m not that good at comforting people. But we don’t have the professionals Urek or Yuri Jahad here to give cool speeches, so I’m doing it for you instead,” Khun finished, resting his chin lightly on top of his chestnut hair as he continued to comfort him.

«. Okay,” Baam whispered, his voice barely loud enough to hear. He was still shaking and clinging to Khun like he was the only thing keeping him grounded. Khun would stay there as long as he needed him.

Baam is a blanket hoarder.

It’s not unusual for Khun to have nightmares. In fact, it was almost nightly.

There were a wide variety of them, of course, and most he was able to shake off with just a few minutes of controlled breathing. But the worst ones he couldn’t shake that easily.

The one he had just awoken from was one of the later.

Khun bolted upright, gasping for breath. He clutched his sheets as his eyes darted around the room, before realizing that it had been a dream. He shuddered out a breath, gripping his shirt and trying to calm himself down. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe the image from his mind.

”Baam!” he yelled until his voice was raw. “BAAM!” he had screamed. But all he could do was watch as Rachel pushed him over the edge like she had all those years ago. Except there was no one waiting to save him at the bottom. Baam never survived the fall no matter how many times the scene repeated in his head, and Khun had always been forced to see-

Khun shook his head. He was going to go get some water.

Khun quietly slipped into the hallway. He glanced at the door to the room next to his as he passed it. He wanted to open it, to make sure that it really was all a dream. He wanted to make sure that he was safe, sleeping in his bed, and that Rachel or anyone else could never hurt him again. He wavered outside for a moment before moving on.

The door to the kitchen slid open almost silently. Khun narrowly avoided stubbing his toe on the table as he maneuvered his way to the back to grab a water glass. His hands were still shaking as he filled it up and drank from it. He set it down, gripping onto the edges of the counter. It was just a dream, Aguero. It was just a dream-

Khun’s head shot up to the sound of the door sliding open. Golden eyes immediately widened in surprised as they met his own. His dark brown hair was loose and disheveled; his face was pale. The two stared at each other in a daze. The name the came out of Khun’s mouth sounded like a prayer.

The spell on the room was broken as Baam closed the distance between them and pulled Khun into an embrace. Khun barely had time to register what was happening when Baam tightened his hold on him, hiding his face in Khun’s shoulder. His heart was pounding against his chest, something he was sure Baam could feel. He could feel the heat rushing up to his face, but fought it back as best as he could.

“B-Baam? Are you alright?”

Baam released him and Khun had to beat back the wave of disappointment. He looked into his eyes; he had been crying. The look Baam was giving him was one that someone would give a-

Khun put a hand onto his shoulder. “. Did you have a nightmare?”

Baam opened his mouth and closed, trying to speak. But the words didn’t come out. He averted his gaze, clutching his wrist timidly. Khun quickly filled up his glass and handed it to the shaken boy. He smiled his thanks as he drank; he could see the slightest tremble in his hands.

”I’m sorry,” Baam said, breaking the silence.

Silence returned to the room. Neither of them made a move. Both of them looked at each other like they could disappear at any moment. Finally, Khun moved forward and took Baam’s hand into his own. The two of them quietly made their way back to their rooms, hand in hand. They paused outside their doors.

”. Can I-?” Baam started, clearly fumbling for words. But Khun understood, and his heart skipped a beat despite his brain’s protests. He opened the door to his room, gently pulling in Baam after him. The two of them settled onto the bed, positioned so they could look at each other. Khun didn’t say a word, leaving it up to Baam to decide whether to fall asleep or talk about it.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke.

”It was right after the Hell Train.”

”Do you have nightmares a lot?”

”Hey, this isn’t about me right now.”

”You were in the kitchen too, looking like you had seen a ghost when you saw me.”

Khun had nothing to say to that. He laughed without any humor. “I guess we both have some issues, huh?”

”You didn’t answer my question.”

”Neither did you.”

Baam made a face at him and Khun couldn’t help but crack a smile. The tension in his muscles melted away as Baam suddenly fumbled for words. The lighting was poor, but he could swear he saw a flush on his cheeks.

Baam released a breath. “Almost every night,” he finally replied.

”Why did you never say anything?”

”Well, what about you?”

”I answered your question, now you answer mine.”

Baam have him the look. Khun guessed he had that one coming.

“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” he sighed. “We have so much going on at once; I didn’t want to be another burden.”

”You could have come to me,” Khun said. Baam looked at him; Khun knew exactly what he was going to say next if he ended the sentence there. “I know, I know. I’m as guilty as you are-» Baam gave a quiet huff “-but you aren’t a burden to me. Ever. You can come to me for anything.”

”. Even if I interrupt your sleep?”

Khun sighed dramatically. “If it’s you, then I guess I have no choice.”

Finally, Baam smiled, if only a little. “The same goes for you, you know. I’m here for you.”

Khun returned the smile before rolling onto his back. “Well then, let me get back to sleep,” he deadpanned.

«Can’t we just have a nice moment?”

He felt Baam gently kick his legs. He kicked back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Baam looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. It made his heart leap. With Baam beside him, sleep came quickly and softly, letting him rest through the rest of the night.

Before he knew what was happening, Khun had found himself moved into Baam’s room.

Baam was the one had who had initially suggested the idea. Khun had found himself with either Baam at his door or himself at Baam’s nearly every night. «Wouldn’t it make more sense to just share a room and bed at this point?» Baam had asked, clearly sleep deprived, when he buried himself in the blankets of Khun’s bed. Khun remembered nearly falling out of the bed and Baam realizing what he said about thirty seconds later, turning beet red.

Despite the protests of Khun’s heart, they ended up doing that. Not without garnering suggestive comments from Rak and Hansung, of course, but Khun was far past the point of caring.

When Khun woke up gasping for breath, Baam was there to hold him and remind him to breathe. When Baam flailed and cried in his sleep, Khun took his hands in his own, rubbing circles with his thumb until he calmed down. When sleep was evading them, they had each other to talk to about nothing and everything. It was a nice arrangement. And if Khun secretly loved waking up to the sight of Baam asleep next to him, that was nobody else’s business but his own.

Baam is kind.

Khun was not good with affection. That much he knew. He had never been physically or verbally affectionate, and he was self-admittedly terrible at comforting speeches and whatnot. Being emotionally vulnerable was an entirely separate headache he didn’t want to try navigating, and if you had told him eight years ago that he would eventually have to, he would have called you insane. His family had never been keen on showing affection.

Baam, however, was.

Khun found this out slowly after Baam admitted his insomnia to him. Sure, Khun was already hyper-aware of Baam due to reasons that were absolutely not related to his feelings for his best friend, but he noticed Baam being more. touchy with him. He’d closer to him. He’d rest a hand on his shoulder, or his head. He’d lightly touch his back when passing behind him. Khun wondered if Baam was trying to kill him.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he paced and read through news reports of the Tower. With the war going on, he felt like he couldn’t keep up. His head was spinning with each new update and all he really wanted was to nap for the next one-hundred years or so. Khun rubbed his eyes, trying to will himself to focus. He heard footsteps approaching him-ones he immediately recognized were Baam’s-and sighed again, in relief instead of exasperation. Baam’s presence always relaxed him and he could really use-

His train of thought crashed and burned as he felt Baam’s arms wrap around him from behind. Baam rested his chin on Khun’s shoulder, peeking at the reports on the screens in front of him. «What’s the update today?» he asked, his voice incredibly close to Khun’s ear. Khun could feel the vibrations in his chest against his back and suddenly he felt like he was burning alive from the inside. Apparently Baam was trying to kill him whether he knew it or not.

This is it. This is how I die.

Stabbed, had a bomb go off next to my heart, and this is what takes me down?

Suddenly, Baam jolted as he finally had a realization. «Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?» he asked, slowly unwrapping his arms. «I’m so sorry, I didn’t-«

Khun quickly grabbed his arms and wrapped them back around himself, fully leaning into the embrace. «Don’t-,» he started, trying to find the right words. «It’s fine; it’s nice, actually. I’m. just not used to it, that’s all.» He hesitantly intertwined his hand with one of Baam’s, fighting back a smile as Baam returned the gesture.

Baam hummed in response, going back to looking over the reports. «So, how many crimes has Jahad’s Army accused me of today?»

Khun laughed. «Not as many as I was expecting, honestly. Can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.»

«How many of these have you read already?»

«You don’t want to know the answer to that question, I guarantee it.»

«. Has anyone told you to take a break?»

«Well add another person to the list, because you need to take a break.»

«. Grab me something to drink and I’ll consider it.»

«. uero? Aguero, are you awake?»

Khun’s eyes fluttered open. He lifted his head from the desk and looked around in a daze, the bridge of the airship illuminated only by the faint light coming from his lighthouse. He squinted, trying to remember how he had gotten there. They’d come back from a battle and he had needed to make repairs to his lighthouse and. now it was dark out. He must have fallen asleep working on it.

«. You’re still half asleep, aren’t you?» the voice asked again. Khun slowly turned in the direction of the voice, to see Baam standing next to him. His hair was down, falling loosely around his shoulders. Without thinking, Khun reached up to play with the end of it. Baam sighed, chuckling slightly. «You really are out of it.»

«Hmm,» was all Khun offered in reply.

«Come on. Let’s go to bed.»

Khun nodded, pushing himself to his feet before tripping and falling into Baam’s chest as he caught him. If he had been slightly more coherent, he would have probably turned into a flustered mess, but instead he just groaned and buried his face in his chest. Baam laughed lightly, stroking the top of his head. «Don’t worry, I’ve got you.» Faster than Khun’s sleep-hindered mind could process, he was being carried in Baam’s arms as they headed towards their room. He blinked once before decided he was too exhausted to even get embarrassed. He rested his head against Baam’s chest and started to drift off back to sleep again before a realization hit him.

«When did you start calling me Aguero?»

Khun felt him shrug as they continued down the hallway. «I don’t really remember. Does it bother you?»

«No. Jus’ wondering,» he mumbled as drowsiness grabbed hold of him again. He felt something rumble gently, probably Baam’s chest as he laughed at his slurred speech, before he was fast asleep again.

Baam is ~~frustrating~~ reckless.

Khun’s heart dropped when he heard Endrosi over the Pocket.

«We’re okay, but Baam took a bad hit in that last fight. He’s not in serious danger anymore, but he cut it close,» she’d told him, concern leaking into her voice despite how hard she probably tried to hide it.

He paced back and forth, the knot in his gut twisting with each passing minute. He fiddled with the bandage on his arm, a minor injury from an unexpected hostile encounter. He and Rak had made quick work of the poor sod who decided to attack them, but they’d managed to graze him with their knife. He felt the fire inside him stirring, but he didn’t want to use it on himself unless he had to. He wasn’t sure where the limit was with that fickle fish.

Rak scoffed at him. «You’re going to make a trench in the ground if you don’t stop pacing, Blue Turtle.»

Khun glared at him and the others standing next to him. At least Shibisu, and even Hatsu, had the sense to look sheepish at his reaction. However, the crocodile was just too stubborn. He sighed, running his non-injured hand through his hair. He check his pocket again for any message from Baam’s group. Nothing. Hwa Ryun’s words echoed in his mind. «You lose your cool when Baam’s involved.»

She was right then and was right now. She was usually right, all things considered. That didn’t mean he liked it.

He was going to go sit down.

Khun sat up against the ship, closing his eyes to try to quiet the noise in his head, to no avail. He was their strategist and schemer through and through; it was in his nature. It also meant it was in his nature to overthink every possible detail that could potentially go wrong. He repeated Endrosi’s message silently to himself. He’s not in serious danger anymore. He’s not in serious danger anymore. He needs to stop putting himself in serious danger in the first place!

Khun’s eyes shot open as he flew to his feet, looking in the direction of the call. Shibisu was waving his arm at the blue disc in the sky carrying three people on it. It descended swiftly, Hockney and Endorsi quickly climbing off of it before helping the third member off. He was seriously injured; Khun could see the blood dripping from his arms as he landed on the ground.

The flames moved without his command, or rather, they responded to him subconsciously. They closed the distance, quickly finding their way to the injured man and closing up his wounds swiftly. The brown-haired man looked down in surprise before looking around frantically to find the source. His golden eyes locked with blue and his entire face lit up.

«Baam,» Khun breathed, his feet moving of their own accord. He was running.

Baam moved to meet him, leaving Endorsi and Hockney behind. The smile on his face never faltered. He parted his arms, obviously preparing for a hug.

Khun didn’t know what had come over him, but suddenly his hands were gripping the collar of Baam’s jacket. Baam barely had time to react before their lips touched and Khun was kissing him.

Khun was kissing him.

Khun quickly broke away and took a step back. Baam’s face was completely flushed and he was frozen in place. His eyes were wide he was staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read. Khun was busy thinking about how Endorsi was absolutely going to kill him in a few seconds, how he was probably going to also kill himself after she was finished, and how he was going to have to erase the memory of all the witnesses.

«Baam, I’m sorry I-» he said, taking another step back before Baam quickly grabbed his wrist, keeping him from escaping. He wanted to die right there. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, both completely red and surprised over what just happened.

Khun blinked and Baam’s hands gripped his shirt, pulling him in. Baam was kissing Khun; he was kissing him back. Khun felt several things in his brain completely short-circuit. He returned the kiss, his heart pounding in his ears and face burning up.

Yep. Endorsi was absolutely going to kill him later.

When they pulled apart, Khun rested his forehead against Baam’s, looking straight into his eyes. «Please, please stop making so many close calls,» he whispered. Baam nodded, before kissing him again. This time, Khun was prepared.

Baam is protective.

When the spear came flying in his direction, Khun barely had enough time to react.

While it missed the target of his neck, Khun bit his tongue to swallow the cry of pain that threatened to escape him as the spear tore into his shoulder. With his good arm, he summoned an ice spear and hurled it at his attacker, but it missed. Thankfully, it distracted them long enough for him to hide out of sight. He ducked behind a crumbled wall, hissing in pain as he examined the wound. It. didn’t look great. From the numbing sensation slowly spreading throughout his arm, he guessed the tip had been poisoned as well. Shit.

He tried to use the flames, but they wouldn’t respond to him. He tried again, and again, but there was nothing. «Oh fuck off you stupid fish,» he said under his breath, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation alive. He heard his assailant on the other side of the wall searching for him. Khun only had a few minutes at best.

Khun quickly stole a glance at his attacker. He nearly choked when he recognized who it was. It was Byung, the man they had been hunting down in the first place, the person Baam was set on finding and fighting. The man Evankhell warned Baam to be cautious around.

Khun was absolutely fucked.

His eyes darted around the room where he had been camped out. There weren’t easily accessible exits; that was part of the reason he had chosen the place. In his defense, he didn’t include a man crashing through the wall and hurling a spear at him into his preparations, but nevertheless, something to consider in the future. Maybe he should think about wall strength when-

Khun nearly slapped himself for how reckless and stupid the idea was, but it was the best he had. The room he had situated himself in was on the top floor of an abandoned tower; if he managed to break through them, he would be free-falling for forty-six stories if Byung really had destroyed his Lighthouse.

The sound of Byung destroying another wall with his spear made his decision for him. Free-fall it was.

Unfortunately, that seemed to alert Byung.

Before Khun could even get to the next phase of his plan, Byung was behind him with his hand around his throat. «So this is where you were hiding,» he mused, fury dripping from every word. He backed Khun up so that his feet were at the very edge of the floor; one step back and he would be falling.

«What, did Baam scare you so badly that you had to come beat up a Lightbearer to boost your ego?» Khun spat, not daring to look at the fall below him.

«Oh,» Byung snarled, his grip around Khun’s throat tightening. «You’re not just any old Lightbearer. You’re that scheming bastard from the Khun family, aren’t you?»

«Charmed, I’m sure.» Even if Khun had nothing else, he had his snark.

«You’ve made my life infinitely more difficult,» he growled. «But you’ve got some worth to keeping you alive instead of dead.»

Sure didn’t seem like it with how you were acting earlier, he thought, sparing a quick glance down. He saw the glint of something; the Lighthouse. Perfect.

«If I keep you alive, I can keep that Slayer-nominee off of my ass for a bit. If you’re dead, I doubt there’s any way out of this for me.» Khun’s eyes darted up, his shock clear on his face. Byung bared his teeth. «Oh, don’t play dumb. I did my homework. I know exactly who’s who on your little team and I know you and that wannabe-god are a ‘thing’. If I kill you, that monster will murder me without hesitation.»

Khun’s bit back his words, trying to calm the wave of anger in him. He needed to focus. One misstep, and it would all be over. The poison coursing in his veins blurred his vision, but his glare was ice cold as he brought his hand up to grip the one around his neck. Byung visibly flinched as Khun froze his wrist. That was all he needed.

«Don’t you dare think of using me against him,» he hissed, swiftly kicking him in the gut. He pushed himself back, closed his eyes, and for a moment, he was weightless.

And then he was falling.

Khun’s eyes flew open. Golden eyes met his own as he was caught, not by the Lighthouse like he was expecting. Baam looked down at him, panic in his eyes, Shinsu-wings in all their glory. He caught me.

«Aguero! What happened? Why are you- are you smiling?!» Was he? He brought up a hand to his face. Ah, he was.

«Byung. He surprised me. Got me with his spear; this poison’s going to knock me out in a few seconds,» he managed, his vision blurring.

Khun watched as Baam’s expression turned into one he had only seen twice before: pure rage. It sent a chill down his spine, even though he knew it wasn’t directed at him. He would have felt sorry for the person at the receiving end of it if he hadn’t stabbed him earlier.

The last thing Khun remembered was Baam cradling his head against his chest before he passed out.

When Khun came to, he almost wished he hadn’t.

His body ached all over and his shoulder hurt like hell, but he was alive, so he’d take it. He looked around the room in a daze. He was in his old room, the one that had gone unused for months now, and the lights were off besides a lamp next to the bed. The fire-fish was floating above him and Khun felt like telling it off, but decided against it. Khun went to sit himself up before noticing one of his hands was currently occupied.

Baam had pulled up a chair next to his bed. He’d fallen asleep holding Khun’s hand; his heart felt like it was going to melt. He loved this man with every fiber of his being. He gently squeezed his hand.

Baam’s eyes shot open and met his. The poor boy nearly burst into tears when Khun smiled at him. «Hey,» he said, his voice shaking.

«Please don’t scare me like that again,» he pleaded, voice tinged with distress. Khun gripped his hand in response. Baam helped him sit up, careful not to irritate his wounds.

Baam slowly wrapped his arms around Khun, taking great caution to be gentle. He brought his hand up to rest against Khun’s chest, feeling his heart beat against. Khun felt him begin to shake and he let him bury his face into his chest. He gently ran his fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head as he cried into his shirt. «I’m here, I’m here,» he murmured, bringing his hands up to cup Baam’s cheeks. He softly kissed away his tears.

«I thought I was going to lose you again-» Baam’s voice cracked.

«I’m sorry,» Khun whispered.

Baam shook his head, reaching his hand up to rest on top of Khun’s. «It wasn’t your fault.»

They just stayed like that for a moment.

«We’re going to the top together, right?» Baam’s voice was barely loud enough to hear.

Khun brought his face closer and Baam’s eyes closed, leaning into the kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise.

Baam was playing with his hands as Khun slowly began to drift off to sleep. The world felt like it was crumbling around him as they neared the top of the Tower. The Tower’s walls pressed in closer every day. But that didn’t matter when it was just the two of them. It was just them, in their bed, existing together and nothing else mattered. Khun released a contented sighed as Baam intertwined his hand with his own.

Baam’s hands tightened their grip around Khun’s. The drowsy boy opened his eyes to look at him. Baam was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“. will you stay with me?”

Khun softened his gaze. “Of course. We’re going to the top together, aren’t we?”

Baam bit his lip, averting his gaze. He took in a shaky breath; Khun felt it shudder across the mattress. “Sorry, I guess that was a bit vague.”

Khun raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, giving the boy across from him time to think.

“I guess what I want to ask is- ah-! No, that sounds too pushy. I really should have thought about how I was going to say this-“ he rambled before cutting himself off. He sighed deeply and tightened his grip on Khun’s hands.

“I want be with you for the rest of my life. I don’t want to think about a life without you there with me.”

“I guess what I’m asking is. would you marry-?”

He was cut short as Khun wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Khun rested his chin on the top of his chestnut-brown hair, holding Baam as close to him as possible. “Are you sure you want me?” he asked, his shaking voice barely above a whisper.

“. are you sure you want me?”

Khun chuckled and gently placed a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” He felt the tension in Bam’s shoulder melt away and his arms wrap around him, returning the embrace.

“Then yes. I’m one-hundred percent sure.”

«Let’s just do it right now, then,» Khun teased through the tears forming in his eyes.

Baam looked up at him, clearly trying to fight back tears as well. «Isn’t there some sort of procedure for this?»

«We’ve never done things according to procedures and you want to start now?»

Baam laughed, causing Khun’s heart to flutter in his chest. «That’s fair,» he responded, pulling Khun in to kiss him. «There,» he whispered when they pulled apart. «We’re married now. I do’s and all.»

Khun chuckled and ran his fingers through Baam’s hair. «I do’s and all. Eloquently put.»

«I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Baam,» Khun murmured.

Baam barely managed a nod before drifting off back to sleep. Unfair, Khun thought.

Khun slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Baam. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair and made his way to the kitchen. He yawned, rubbing his eyes and cursing his internal clock. He did not pass anyone in the hallways; he assumed no one was up yet. When the door to the kitchen slid open, however, he found that he was incorrect.

Hwa Ryun stood at the sink, washing out a water glass. All things considered, Khun wasn’t too surprised to see her awake. He seriously doubted that she slept in the first place. She turned to him, giving him a nod before reaching for a towel to dry the glass. He returned the nod and moved past her to grab a mug for coffee. He’d smelt it as soon as he walked in; she had probably gotten the pot started. Now he knew how Hansung had always managed to be on his third cup at seven every morning.

Khun sat down at the table, staring into his coffee. He wasn’t quite awake yet.

He heard Hwa Ryun move past him, setting something down on the table. It was a small black box. He gave her an inquisitive look, which she responded to with a knowing one. She continued past him, making her way to the door. He cracked open the box, peering at the contents. Two gold rings stared back at him. They were simple; discrete. He was also sure they were wedding rings. He looked up at her with a start.

«Hwa Ryun,» he called. She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at him.

Her face softened into what might be the closest thing to a genuine smile she’d ever made. She waved him off and let the door close behind her.

Khun smiled at the rings in his hand. Swiftly, he pocketed the box took a sip of his coffee. It was sweeter than he remembered it being. He looked down in mild confusion, only to see that he had made it the way Baam liked it.

Then he broke out laughing.

Notes:

Ew what are summaries. What even is this? This got so out of hand. Take it I beg.

I originally started writing this before SIU killed the collective khunbam fandom instantaneously so I had to make some changes. I am not complaining about this whatsoever though.

Anyways, I officially am finished with high school! I will be starting my studies as an electrical engineering student this fall, so I’m using this summer to write as much as possible before I’m buried by math and physics homework. I apologize in advance lol.

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take my hand, take my whole life too by shadesofcool

Fandoms: SKAM (TV)

Summary

Isak needs another drink or two but his way into the kitchen is blocked by two people. He’s about to squeeze through between them when he hears his name in the conversation. He knows the voice.

«Isak Valtersen?» Even snorts, shaking his head. «He’s the most arrogant asshole I’ve ever met.»

Isak holds his head up raising his eyebrows, then he taps on Even’s shoulder. «Excuse me,» he forces a smile when Even looks at him, «This arrogant asshole would like to get another drink.»

Even clenches his jaw and steps away, letting Isak through.

Elvis Presley Take my hand, take my whole life tooFor I can’t help falling in love with you

Текст песни «Elvis Presley — Take my hand, take my whole life tooFor I can’t help falling in love with you»

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can’t help falling in love with you

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take my hand, take my whole life too

xxrisque

Summary:

“Well, I came out to Mum.” Posner drops heavily on to the unmade bed, creasing a few screwed-up papers as he goes.

“Shite. How’d it go?”

“Better than I thought, actually,” Posner hums. “Though I do think she’s mostly just pleased there won’t be any unexpected grandchildren in the picture. Except, well. She asked if I was seeing someone, and I thought Dad might take it better if he thought I was, so I said yes. Only that worked too well and now they want me to bring him home over the holidays.»

[ wherein Posner needs to take a boy home to meet his parents, and Scripps will have to do ]

Notes:

in which scripps probably likes kissing posner too much, posner sees no problem with this, and dakin wants to bash their heads together with great force

. i’d say i’m sorry except i’m absolutely not

(i realise their parents are probably way too chill with their being queer, but my dads were queer + out + northern during the 70s and 80s and their parents were really relaxed about it so like, idk personal anecdotes and experience pointed to this)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“Scripps,” Posner opens the moment he’s answered the door, voice barely above a whine as he drags out the ‘i’ sound. “I need a favour.”

“Whatever it is, it best be good. I don’t know if you’ve clocks in Magdalen, but round here it’s not nice to wake your mates up before twelve on a Saturday.” Scripps grumbles even as he lets Posner in to his shambles of a room, dodging the mountains of books and laundry he never got around to putting away.

“Well, I came out to Mum.” Posner drops heavily on to the unmade bed, creasing a few screwed-up papers as he goes.

“Shite. How’d it go?”

“Better than I thought, actually,” Posner hums. “Though I do think she’s mostly just pleased there won’t be any unexpected grandchildren in the picture. Except, well. She asked if I was seeing someone, and I thought Dad might take it better if he thought I was, so I said yes. Only that worked too well and now they want me to bring him home over the holidays.”

Scripps whistles through his teeth and leans back against the wall, saying nothing and raising his eyebrow.

“And I wouldn’t ask, only you know I don’t have a boyfriend or anything even remotely resembling one, and you’re the only person I trust enough to ask. Besides, Mum and Dad love you, at least they’d already approve.”

Scripps stays silent for a very long time, and Posner twitches a little, fingers toying with the fraying hem of his shirt.

“Look, I’m sorry I asked, I’ll just–“ he starts, at the same time Scripps finally inhales and stands up properly.

“Alright, fine. Just let me tell Mum first? I don’t think she’d appreciate hearing about it second-hand.”

“Of course,” Posner smiles like a weight’s been lifted from him, and Scripps smiles back, dropping down to sit next to him. “Thanks.”

Posner leans in and presses the quickest of butterfly kisses to his cheek and Scripps tries valiantly to supress the blush rising in his cheeks. They stay silent for a while, until Posner picks up a random book from Scripps’s desk, leans back on his bed and starts to read. Scripps watches him for a moment, then does the same, holding out an arm to let Posner tuck himself in against his shoulder.

Nothing much changes between them after that, or at least they don’t intend for it to.

“You’ve been looking at Posner funny,” Dakin announces to Scripps one night when they’re on the way back to their dorms from the pub. Scripps frowns at him.

“Have I?” He pleads ignorance and looks away, focusing instead on the cigarette he’s smoking.

“Get your eyes checked, mate.”

Dakin raises his hands in surrender, but there’s a smug smile on his face that Scripps doesn’t like the look of.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave it, seeing as you’re such a happy crack this eve.” He laughs, not without affection, and tucks his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, what are you doing over the Christmas hols? Dad wants to know if you’ll be about for the annual festive piss up.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m going Posner’s,” Scripps pointedly doesn’t look at Dakin’s face, and so misses the withering look he gives. “And your dad nearly killed me with his bathtub homebrew last year, so I’d rather not.”

“Shame,” Dakin laughs as they finally enter their dorm corridor. “Cousin Angie’d been hoping she might finally manage to flirt her way into your kegs this year.”

Scripps just laughs, and shuts the door in Dakin’s face.

Posner drops round in the morning, when Scripps is barely awake and slightly hung-over, and he lets himself in without knocking. Scripps grumbles against the sunlight as Posner throws open the curtains, and hides underneath his duvet when Posner settles himself on the edge of the bed.

“We need to talk about things, before we go home,” he announces, pulling a notebook out of his bag. “Set a story straight.”

“Or not,” Scripps laughs to himself, and Posner smacks him lightly in the leg.

“Not now,” Posner says fondly, and Scripps finally surfaces from his duvet nest and looks blearily at him. “Have you spoken to your mother?”

“Not yet. I haven’t been able to find the words,” Scripps admits sheepishly, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. Posner hums quietly at that, and fumbles his free hand to find Scripps’s.

“That’s okay. It’s not an easy conversation to have,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Scripps’s hand. He pauses for a second and seems to catch himself, drawing his hand back with a soft frown pursing his features. “Even if it isn’t real.”

Scripps looks at him hard for a moment but doesn’t say anything, fisting his hands in the sheets and stopping himself from reaching out to take Posner’s hand again.

“Anyway,” Posner starts after a minute or so of soft silence. “How are we saying we got together? I probably asked you out–”

“Did you bollocks, I obviously asked you,” Scripps scoffs.

“Alright, fine, you asked me,” Posner laughs with a roll of his eyes, scribbling this down. “And what did we do? Cycle down the river and picnic at dusk, or something?”

“I was gonna say we went for dinner, actually,” Scripps says, frowning at his bed sheets. “Probably somewhere quiet, where we knew none of the lads would see us because we weren’t ready to tell them yet. I had a glass of wine because I was nervous and wanted to impress you–”

“You think wine tastes like loo cleaner.”

“It does, I’ll have you know, but I knew you liked it so I tried anyway because I thought it might make you think I was “cultured” or some shite like that, except you cottoned on and forced me on to lager instead. I had the pasta, you probably had the fish, and you tried to pay the bill at the end but I wouldn’t let you, so we split it. I was too scared to hold your hand over the table during dinner, but I did on the walk home, and when we got to your college I asked if I could kiss you, and you said yes.”

Scripps finally looks up then, and Posner’s staring at him with an impossibly fond look in his eyes. Scripps clears his throat quietly, and the other boy seems to come back to himself, blushing pink across the top of his cheeks.

“Very poetic,” he tries for a bored tone, and misses by about four miles, voice pitchy and unsteady. “You should write that down.”

Scripps huffs a barely there laugh and looks away again as Posner hurriedly scribbles down something in his notebook.

“And then it just went from there? You wooed me with the one kiss, did you?” Posner raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you think I’m that easy?”

“Well, no, I brought you coffee when you got on a roll with your essays, and sometimes you’d meet me in the library and we’d just sit together and work, or we’d go for lunch after church on Sundays, and sometimes we’d kiss goodnight, but we certainly didn’t get together overnight,” Scripps carries on, playing with a few loose threads. “But if I had wanted to pull you with one kiss, I could’ve.”

He laughs a bit, and Posner fixes him with a thinly veiled glare.

“Maybe.” Scripps laughs again, a sheepish, lopsided smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“You know, your overwhelming sense of modesty was what attracted me to you all along,” Posner deadpans, setting his notebook and pen down on the desk beside him. “Go on then. Amaze me.”

Scripps frowns at him.

“You reckon you could pull me with a kiss, do it.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Posner tells him immediately, fiddling with his sleeves. “Though it has struck me that we might have to… Perform. Over the holidays.”

“How’d you mean?” Scripps is still frowning, his eyes firmly on Posner’s face as the other boy searches for words.

“Well, I worry that we wouldn’t make a particularly believable couple if you never come within a foot of me with any romantic intent.”

“You want me to kiss you in front of your parents, that’s what you mean,” Scripps stares at him. “You want me to kiss you in front of your tiny, old, unsuspecting, desperately sweet, Jewish parents.”

“I’m just saying, it might come up.”

“Look, please don’t feel like you have to, I know I’m already asking too much of you and–”

“Come here then, you massive queer,” Scripps reaches out for him, grabbing him by the shoulder and kissing him unceremoniously. Posner squeaks in surprise at first because, frankly, this wasn’t quite how he saw this conversation going, but he quickly catches on and his hands fumble to find Scripps’s side and squeeze. Scripps shifts his hand to his jaw and pulls him impossibly closer into him, mouth working against Posner’s and the barest hint of tongue brushing at his lips.

Scripps hasn’t much experience with kissing, the one peck from a girl when he was twelve and a tipsy run-in with the rowing team captain notwithstanding, but he thinks that Posner’s almost as soft as a girl, and if he needed to then he could maybe pretend he was one, only he finds it’s much more appealing if he just thinks about Posner; Posner when he laughs at an awful joke, or the smile he gets when he’s reciting poetry, or that look in his eye when he gets going about the Franco-Prussian War, or–

“Well, consider me wooed,” Posner pulls away, his expression unreadable, though Scripps is more taken with the way his lips are pink and kiss-swollen, a thought that in itself worries him somewhat. They stay silent, each transfixed by the other’s expression, until the clock tower nearby tolls.

“Oh, bugger, is it twelve? I’m gonna be late for my seminar and my tutor already thinks me a fool.” Posner scoops up his bag and his book and makes to leave, hesitating for a second when he catches Scripps’s expression. “We’ll talk later, after lectures are done? Work out what we’re gonna tell the others.”

Scripps nods dumbly, words well and truly buried somewhere deep, and Posner seems to consider something for a moment, bag held against his chest. He frowns briefly before his expression smoothes out again, and he ducks down to press a quick kiss to the corner of Scripps’s mouth, then he’s gone.

The door slams behind him, and Scripps stares blankly at the wall while his thoughts desperately chase each other around his head. He tries to remember how to breathe, hands twitching for something to do and mind trying to find something to think about that isn’t Posner, the way Posner kisses, how it feels to hold Posner’s hand and squeeze, the way he looks when–

“Morning, sunshine!” Dakin announces loudly as he lets himself in, still in last night’s clothes. When Scripps doesn’t even react or so much as look at him, he frowns and drops himself down next to him. “Oi. Scripps.”

Scripps still stays quiet, his breathing loud and unsteady, and it’s then Dakin starts to worry.

“Scripps, mate, come on,” he claps a hand on Scripps’s shoulder, squeezing hard. “Calm down. Breathe.”

It takes a few minutes before Scripps can talk again, and Dakin is staring at him like he’s seen a ghost.

“What was that about, mate?” Dakin asks after another minute or two of silence. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”

“Sorry, I–” Scripps starts, then seems to think better of it. “You were right.”

“That’s not news,” Dakin barks out a smug laugh. “What about?”

“Last night, you said it looked like I wanted to kiss Posner. I did. I do, I think.” Scripps runs a hand through his already messy hair. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s brought this on?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning away from Scripps to fix him with a look.

“How long do you have?” Scripps laughs a little wetly, and Dakin gestures for him to carry on. “He came out to his parents, except he told them he’s a boyfriend, only he doesn’t, so he asked me to pretend. And that apparently involves kissing him and oh fuck, I’m a mess.”

Dakin hums, because if he doesn’t he’ll only laugh, and turns to Scripps with a firm look on his face.

“Language, Donald,” he tuts, admonishing. “But, can I suggest something? Why don’t you just ask if it needs to be fake? For a smart boy, you’re an idiot.”

“No, don’t be daft, that wouldn’t work,” Scripps frowns, rubbing angrily at his eyes to hide their wetness. “He wouldn’t–”

“Mate, he asked you to be his fake boyfriend,” Dakin says sagely, staring Scripps down. “That’s a decent enough sign. Now calm your tits, get changed, and come down the pub with me. Rudge wants us to meet his new girl.”

Scripps goes round to Posner’s the next day, and he runs into Akthar on the way in.

“Hiya, Scripps,” he says, raising his hand in a lazy greeting. “Alright?”

“Grand, thanks,” Scripps stops and surveys him. “How’s Posner?”

“Ah, he’s fine,” Akthar smiles loosely. “Bit stressed about his latest assignment, mind, but aren’t we all? Anyway, I’d love to chat but I’d better get a shift on, Annie’s waiting for me in town.”

“Annie?” Scripps raises an eyebrow, and Akthar flushes a little darker. “I see how it goes. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“You neither,” Akthar smiles at him again, then makes to leave. “See you.”

Scripps nods at him, then lets himself into Posner’s room. The boy himself is sitting at his desk and staring out of his window with a frown on his face and a pen in his hand.

“Dakin knows,” Scripps announces by way of a greeting, dropping his bag on Posner’s bed and taking a seat. Posner turns to look at him.

“And the fact we’re making it up as we go along, yeah,” Scripps admits, shying away from Posner’s reaction. “Sorry.”

“Akthar knows too,” Posner replies, smiling sheepishly. “Fine job we’re doing of keeping this quiet.”

“They’d’ve found out in the end, though,” Scripps points out, and Posner sighs in agreement. “At least this way Dakin might shut up.”

“True,” Posner nods, and Scripps holds out an arm to let the smaller boy tuck into his shoulder, and he tries valiantly not to be distracted by his warmth and the rhythm of his breathing against his neck. “I’d’ve liked to pretend a little longer.”

“We could still fool Timms, though,” Scripps muses, squeezing his shoulders. “He’s not that observant.”

“Mm,” Posner hums, all but burying his face in Scripps’s neck. Scripps tries desperately to stop his breath from hitching. “Though I suppose it only matters if my family believes it.”

“They will,” Scripps assures him, smoothing a hand down his side. Posner laughs quietly, and leans up to brush a kiss against the line of his jaw. Scripps swallows, then leans in to kiss him properly, because he is all too aware that he has a finite amount of time where this is acceptable.

Posner softens under him and makes a quiet noise into his mouth, and Scripps just tries to commit every sensation and feeling and movement to memory.

He figures he’d better call his mum sooner rather than later, seeing as he’s gone through several pieces of paper trying to iron out quite how he feels about Posner.

So far he’s come to the terrifying –though not entirely surprising– conclusion that he’d quite like to be able to kiss him whenever he wanted, and for Posner to know he means it and isn’t just putting on a show. He’d thought briefly on the face Posner would make if he told him he loved him, and he’d had to stop writing and go and make a cup of very strong coffee to calm down.

He’s sitting at his desk, phone in hand, dialling his home phone number and trying to work out how easiest to break this to his mother. He hates lying to her, mostly because she’s incredibly perceptive and he’s a very bad liar, and she usually sees through him before he’s even finished spinning his story.

“Hiya, Mum,” he says, fumbling with a pen to give his free hand something to do.

“Oh, Donald, dear,” she replies, smile obvious in her voice. “It’s so lovely to hear from you. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great,” Scripps bounces his leg distractedly. “I just wanted to tell you and Dad that I’ve, well, I’ve met someone.”

“Oh, love, that’s wonderful! Tell me all about them, they must be lovely,” she’s all but cooing, and Scripps cringes into his tea.

“Well, actually, Mum, do you remember Pos– David, from school?”

“Of course I remember David, sweetheart, he was here almost every day!”

“Well, er, it’s him,” he hesitates for a long moment, and his mother stays silent. “It’s quite a new thing, honestly.”

“Oh, darling, that’s really lovely for you. Thank you for telling me,” she says, and she sounds genuine, and Scripps’s sigh of relief must be loud enough for her to hear because she carries on. “Love, you needn’t have worried. Your father and I, we love you, and we want you to be happy. You should bring him over for the New Year’s Eve do, as your boyfriend. Your cousin Susan’ll be pleased, she always did say you two were good for each other.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Scripps laughs breathlessly, relief almost forcing it out of him. “That. Means a lot, really. David’ll be pleased.”

“Oh, love,” she says, her voice soft and like he remembers from when he was little and he’d fall off his bike and skin his knees, and she’d patch him up and stop him crying. “I’m sorry you felt so scared.”

He talks to his mother a while longer, and by the time he hangs up, he feels better than he has since this whole charade began.

They get the train home, all of them together, the week after that, and Scripps holds Posner’s hand under the battered plastic table the whole way there. He reads a book with his other hand, and Posner dozes against his shoulder.

If Rudge notices the few times Scripps turns to press a kiss into Posner’s hair, he doesn’t say anything.

The Cambridge lot are waiting for them outside the station, surrounded by their bags and loitering all over the courtyard. Scripps idles for a moment, then reaches down to take Posner’s hand again. The other boy looks at him, and he must catch the fear in his face because he squeezes his hand gently.

Lockwood stubs out his cigarette as he spots them, eyes falling almost immediately to their joined hands.

“What’s this, then?” He says, eyebrows raised so high they’re almost at his hairline. “Oxford turn you queer already, did it?”

Timms is stifling a laugh into his sleeve, and Crowther is pointedly discussing something with Rudge and looking away. Posner tightens his grip on his hand, like he’s scared of what’s going to happen.

“Not so much, no,” Scripps replies carefully a moment later, voice measured and even. “Realisation’s probably the word you’re looking for, mate.”

Lockwood stays quiet and looks them up and down a few times and digs his hands into his pockets before he speaks again.

“You know, I’d’ve expected something like this from Stu–”

“Piss off, Jimmy!” Dakin pipes up from where he’s been lurking with Akthar.

“–but I thought the whole “religion” bollocks might’ve stopped you.”

Scripps rolls his eyes and laughs, just barely, and Posner rubs his thumb over the back of his hand.

“No,” Scripps starts after a moment of uncomfortable silence, unlike anything they’d felt before. “Oxford’s, different, I suppose. Your priorities change.”

He tugs Posner closer into him, their sides pressing together, and Lockwood meets his eyes for a long few moments. Then he nods, imperceptible and barely there, like he approves.

“Mum’ll be waiting in the car park,” Posner says after another minute’s quiet, with Scripps and Lockwood just looking at each other. “Come on.”

Posner drags him away and down the length of the station front, until they’re well out of earshot.

“Are you alright?”

“Think so?” Scripps frowns, and Posner squeezes his hand, seeing as he still hasn’t let go. “I don’t know. Should’ve seen something coming, though. Thanks for dragging my arse out of there, I was–”

“Don’t be daft,” Posner smiles fondly, cheeks colouring a little. “You’d’ve done it for me.”

Scripps looks at him for a moment, with his hair blowing in the wind and his cheeks pink, and glances around. The only people in sight are their mates, fifteen feet away and not paying attention, so Scripps ducks in to kiss him hard. Posner, to his credit, reacts quickly and shifts a hand to his waist to steady them, and Scripps drops his bags so he can cup his cheek and trace the line of Posner’s jaw with his thumb.

Posner pulls away enough to turn around, but keeps a hand at the other boy’s hip, and suddenly realises that his other hand is tangled in Scripps’s hair.

“Mum! Hello,” he extricates himself from Scripps’s hands and runs to hug his mother. She hugs him briefly, then clears her throat. “You remember Don, don’t you?”

“Ma’am,” Scripps nods, voice low, and when Posner looks at him, he’s gone red up to his ears.

“I do,” she looks between the two of them with a pointed expression. “I trust he’s good to you?”

“He is,” Posner tells her, smoothing his hands at her shoulders. He looks over his shoulder at Scripps, who’s scuffing his shoes at the floor and looking like he wants to be out of here as soon as possible. “Do you want to get off, love?”

“If you don’t mind?” Scripps looks up, and Posner can see the breath leave him. “I want to get back before mum does.”

“Of course,” Posner turns and squeezes his hand again, quick, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, see you,” Scripps is distracted as he scoops up his bag and leaves, Posner and his mother immediately falling into easy conversation before he’s even out of earshot.

He curses at himself the entire walk home, and all the way up the stairs to the flat, and drops his bags in the hallway and heads for the phone.

“I’ve a problem,” he announces, the moment Dakin answers.

“Another one? Did “praying the gay away” not help?” His smirk is clear even when Scripps can’t see him.

“Fuck off, Stu,” Scripps almost snaps back, patience wearing thin. “I keep kissing him, not even when people can see but when it’s just us and just because I want to, and I know he’ll kiss me back so I do and fuck–”

“Might I interrupt?” Dakin interjects, not waiting for an answer before he carries on. “You’re not fooling anyone, mate. That kiss looked as real as any I’ve ever seen.”

“You were maybe ten foot away, of course I saw that,” Dakin scoffs. “But you’ve got Timms and Lockwood buying in, either way.”

“I don’t want it to just be this, I just –I just want it to matter,” Scripps is rambling now, and he can feel Dakin tuning out on the line.

“You want my advice?”

“That’s why I called.”

“Fucking tell him, you prick. Or “write it down” with all your other shite.”

There’s a dial tone, and Dakin’s gone. Scripps drops the phone, swears, and kicks the table leg.

He doesn’t see Posner for a few days after that, until it’s almost Christmas.

“Mum’s told me to invite you over for the last night of Hanukkah, if you’re up for it,” Posner announces offhandedly, when they’re idling round the shops in the city centre.

“Can do,” Scripps agrees easily, perusing a shelf of cookbooks and trying to find one his grandmother will like. “I’ve been told –well, ordered, really, to bring you to the New Year’s Eve do.”

“Alright,” Posner smiles, bumping their shoulders together. “As long as you keep your uncle’s horrible children away from me this year.”

“Come on, they’re nice kids,” Scripps laughs, finally giving up and picking up a book at random. “They like you. Call you Uncle Pos, they do.”

“They’re messy and I don’t want their sticky hands on me,” Posner replies primly, but he’s smirking. Scripps rolls his eyes and pulls him over to the tills.

“I’ll save you from the big scary toddlers, you needn’t worry,” he says fondly, paying for the book and leading him outside. “Knight in shining armour, that’s me.”

Posner groans, pretending to swoon as they step back outside into the cold.

“My hero,” he’s laughing despite the wind in his face and the snow that’s threatening to fall, and Scripps leans in to kiss the tip of his nose.

Scripps feels himself blush red when he realises what he’s done, that there’s no one they need to put on a show for even nearby, and he hopes Posner just thinks it’s from the breeze.

Christmas is quiet at Scripps’s house, even with him and his mum and dad trying to work together in their tiny kitchen to get everything finished at the same time, so he welcomes the thought of Posner’s house the next night.

He cycles over, and Posner’s waiting for him outside, tapping his foot and looking cold. He opens his mouth to say hello, but Posner kisses him by way of a greeting instead. Scripps tries to pretend he doesn’t smile into it.

“Hiya,” he says breathlessly when Posner finally pulls away. “Sorry I’m late.”

Scripps stays quiet during the prayer and the ceremonies, and while Posner’s in the kitchen with his dad, he tries to keep the children placated.

“Donald?” he looks up from where he’d been playing peekaboo with one of Posner’s youngest cousins, and his mother looking at him, settling down into the nearest chair.

“I think you’re good for him,” she looks over her shoulder towards the open kitchen door, where her son and husband are loudly making dinner. “I had my reservations, when he first told me, but he’s happy. Happier than he ever was before, I think. So, thank you, for looking after him.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Scripps says with a frown, scooping up the toddler on to his lap to stop her crying. “He deserves to be happy.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Posner’s father announces, beginning to ferry great plates of food from the kitchen into the dining room. Scripps stands and settles the child on his hip to carry her over to the high chair. Posner comes in then, and sets a veritable mountain of food down on the dining table, before he notices Scripps. The look on his face becomes impossibly fond and, if Scripps were a braver man, he’d say almost loving. Posner leans in to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then carries on with his work.

The night passes without much incident, and soon it’s late and most of Posner’s extended family have excused themselves and his parents have retired for the night, and Scripps finds himself curled up on the sofa with Posner half on top of him, dozing.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, sleepyhead,” Scripps nudges him awake, and Posner makes a pitiful noise against his neck. “If you kip here you’ll only be mardy come morning.”

Posner reluctantly moves, leaning heavily on Scripps until the older boy drops him on his bed on top of the duvet. Scripps smoothes his hair down and presses a kiss to his forehead, and he’s making to leave when Posner reaches out and grabs his wrist.

“Stay,” he asks blearily, eyes barely open as he pulls Scripps back towards him. “Please?”

“I told Mum I’d be home,” Scripps says weakly, even though he’s toeing off his shoes. Posner opens his eyes properly, and holds his hands out to get Scripps to lie down.

“You’re a big boy, she knows you’ll be okay,” Posner wriggles his hands until Scripps finally admits defeat and settles down, tucking him up against his chest. Posner fumbles to find his hand and twists their fingers together, pulling Scripps’s hand against the bony lines of his ribs. Scripps can feel the soft thrum of his heart and he smiles, wrapping his free arm over Posner’s shoulder and tugging him in close, burying his face in his hair.

Scripps wakes up in the morning with an armful of Posner and his weight on his chest. He looks somehow younger when he sleeps, all the worry gone from his face, and when Scripps realises he wants to kiss him awake, he knows he can’t carry on like this.

Posner blinks awake then, and apparently has the same thoughts, because he leans up and presses a chaste, soft kiss to the edge of Scripps’s mouth.

“Pos,” Scripps says, pulling the both of them into a sitting position and looking firmly at the smaller boy. “I can’t –I don’t want to keep pretending.”

“Well, I don’t suppose we need to, now,” Posner muses, leaning back against Scripps’s shoulder. “My family seemed convinced enough last night.”

“That’s not –I didn’t mean that,” Scripps frowns, shifting so that Posner has to look at him. “I mean I don’t want to pretend.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said,” Posner looks concerned now, eyebrows furrowing. “We don’t have to? We can wait a few days, then tell everyone we had an argument and broke up. I probably quoted one too many Hardy poems at you.”

“No, I don’t want to break up with you,” Scripps says, voice heavy with the knowledge that this is the first time he’s said anything of the sort aloud. “I never have, that’s the thing. I always sort of hoped it was real. Besides, it’d take a lot of Hardy to make me want to leave you.”

“You’re joking,” Posner’s expression is hard now, and Scripps worries immediately. “You’re not serious?”

“I am,” Scripps replies, voice wavering somewhat. “I just–”

“Fuck off, Scripps,” Posner is all but glowering now, his face sour. “You’d’ve said something before now. You’re straight.”

“How’d you know that?” Scripps frowns. “You know, I’ve not exactly had that much experience, and given the circumstances, I wasn’t gonna complain about being able to kiss you whenever I fancied it, was I?”

“Scripps,” Posner’s expression has softened a little, but Scripps is getting to his feet and making to leave.

“It’s alright, really,” he swallows, straightening his shirt and trousers out. “I was –suppose I was taking advantage, really, wasn’t I? Sorry. It’ll be reet. I’ll just–”

Posner aches to reach out and pull him in close, kiss him quiet and tell him he’s got it all wrong, but he doesn’t, can’t make himself move fast enough to catch him by the arm, and Scripps leaves.

Scripps doesn’t go home, and instead takes his bike across the city to Dakin’s house, and even though it’s still quite early, he knocks hard on the door. Dakin himself answers after a few minutes, barely awake and disgruntled.

“You know it’s not even twelve, don’t you?” He grumbles, surveying Scripps’s appearance carefully. “What crawled up your arse and died? Jesus.”

“I told Pos how I felt,” Scripps says with a sad sort of smile.

“And? Everything sorted? Spring in your step and a heavenly chorus following your every move?”

“Not so much, no,” Scripps shakes his head, and Dakin’s expression shifts into one that’s almost pitying.

“Shite, mate, sorry. That’s crap,” he looks Scripps up and down quickly, then an idea seems to come to him. “Pub’ll be open though, if you fancy it.”

He doesn’t expect to see Posner, after that. He talks to his mum again, tells her they’ve had a falling out and that he doesn’t think he’ll be about for New Year’s now, and she hugs him and tells him it’ll all work out. He isn’t sure he believes her, but he appreciates the thought.

It’s late on New Year’s Eve now, and Scripps finds himself entirely too sober for his liking, and his cousin keeps looking at him sadly because he’d had to tell her that no, Posner wouldn’t be coming. He’s nursing his second pint of Strongbow and trying to calm the children down as it heads into the last half hour of 1984.

There’s a knock at the door, but Scripps misses it, busy scooping up one of his uncle’s sticky, messy children up and settling her on the kitchen counter, pinching at her cheeks until she giggles.

“Donald, love, there’s someone here for you,” his aunt Linda leans into the kitchen to talk to him. “Shall I let him in?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he waves a hand vaguely, thinking it’s probably only Dakin come to make a nuisance of himself. He turns back to his baby cousin, who’s kicking her legs about and laughing.

“Scripps?” Posner’s voice rises through the hallway as he enters and immediately seeks out the kitchen. Scripps scoops his cousin up and bounces her on his hip when she starts whimpering like she’s going to cry.

“Hiya, Posner,” he says, trying not to look at the pink across his cheeks and the affection in his eyes. “Give me a minute, yeah?”

The toddler starts to sniffle in earnest then, and Scripps shifts her about and kisses her forehead a few times, which placates her for long enough to get her mother.

“Linda, can you take Jenny for a minute? She’s getting a bit upset,” he passes her off to his aunt, kissing her on the nose before he does. “Cheers.”

“No problem, love,” she smiles, cooing at her daughter. “I’ll see you for the countdown in a few?”

“Yeah, bear with,” Scripps replies, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as she leaves, trying to avoid looking at Posner.

“You’re good with children,” he muses quietly. “I don’t know why I didn’t expect that.”

“I don’t treat them like unexploded bombs like you do, is all,” Scripps laughs, picking up his pint and taking a long drink. “Tends to help, that.”

They stand in silence for a few moments, Posner finding his shoes particularly interesting and Scripps not looking away from the clock.

“What are you here for, Pos?” Scripps asks with a heavy sigh when he can’t take it anymore. “I thought we were done with this.”

“It –it occurs to me that I can be a bit thick,” Posner replies, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “And given I attend Oxford University on a scholarship, that’s something of a worry.”

Scripps laughs softly, and Posner looks at him with curious eyes. Neither of them say anything for a minute or two, and Scripps’s family start talking loudly in the next room.

“I’m sorry,” Posner says to break the silence, and Scripps looks over at him curiously. “I should’ve just done what Akthar said and been brave and just asked you properly like a reasonable adult would, but I thought you were straight, and I did tell Mum and Dad about a boyfriend I had that didn’t exist and–”

Scripps’s family interrupt them as they start the countdown, and when Posner looks over Scripps is staring at them.

“You are in love. Occupied until the month of August. You are in love.”

“–Your sonnets make Him laugh.” Scripps finishes, and he’s stepped across the room until he’s in Posner’s space. “Shit, Posner, just–”

His family start cheering in the New Year and Posner fists his hand in the front of his shirt, pulls him forward and kisses him hard. Scripps all but sighs into him, hands running everywhere because he’s allowed to, now, and won’t feel like he needs to stop himself or apologise for it. Posner makes a quiet noise in his throat when he finds Scripps has him against the wall, back digging into the tiles. Someone is singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off-key, but it sounds distant and underwater. Posner’s breathing is soft and laboured, and Scripps pulls away for the briefest moment, to grin elatedly and laugh at the flush spreading down Posner’s neck, before he ducks back in and reconnects their mouths.

“Eurgh, Mummy!” A tiny voice sounds out from around their ankles, and Posner has never hated a child quite so much as he does right now. “Don’s kissing. A boy.”

“Jenny, love, not now,” his aunt’s voice is soft as she leans in to pick up her child. “Leave them be.”

She smiles at them both and nods supportively, then she’s gone again. Scripps turns back to Posner, who is now a truly remarkable shade of pink, and laughs all fond and quiet, and leans in to kiss him again.

“You love me,” Posner pulls away to stare at him, chest heaving. “You love me.”

“Yes, I think I rather do,” Scripps is laughing, quiet and fond, his face buried in Posner’s hair.

Posner beams, digs his fingers into Scripps’s hip, and tilts his head up to kiss him breathless.

Notes:

for those of you familiar with Sheffield: Scripps lives in Park Hill estate, Posner’s house is somewhere in the Highfield area, and Dakin lives out towards Parkwood Springs.

the quote near the end is from Arthur Rimbaud’s Novel, just with a pronoun switch.

title is from Can’t Help Falling In Love, originally by Elvis Presley (though there is a lovely cover by twenty one pilots that will always remind me of these two).

tumblr is here; come shout with me about the history boys and tropes that need to be exploited more in the fandom!

Oliver Tree: Joke’s on You! — перевод

Joke’s on You! — восьмой трек с альбома Оливера Три Ugly is Beautiful, вышедшего 17 июля 2020 года.

Основная мысль, которую Oliver Tree заложил в этот трек, следующая:

Никогда не судите о книге по обложке. Я видел, как люди обращаются с тобой из‑за того, что ты выглядишь по-другому, немного не вписываешься в рамки. Я замечал токсичную энергию, в которой люди воплощают свою собственную неуверенность и неудовлетворение жизнью. Многие люди не могут посмотреть в зеркало и сказать: «Я люблю себя. Я могу принять себя. Несовершенства делают меня прекрасным, делают меня самим собой». Вам нужно научиться любить себя, научиться смеяться над собой и, черт возьми, перестать воспринимать себя настолько серьезно.

Если эта мысль наша у вас отклик, то вам следует ознакомиться с текстом и переводом на русский язык песни Joke’s on You!

Собственно, в этой песне — весь Oliver Tree. Слушаем сам трек

Делитесь своими впечатлениями… Пробрало вас или нет?

Мне будет очень приятно, если ты поделишься этой статьей с друзьями 😉

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Take my Hand (Take my Whole Life Too) by RandomWriting789

Fandoms: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)

Summary

She didn’t mean it at all

There was blood on the ground, on the rocks, on her sword

Catra’s body was buried under that debris, unbeknownst to Adora, still breathing, still alive

All she can think is

What has she done?

Catra infects Adora with the disk and Adora believes she’s done the unthinkable to the girl she loved
Meanwhile Glimmer and Bow manage to save her life and try to convince Adora that it wasn’t her fault
Catra’s on death’s door, Adora’s a sobbing mess and blames herself, and the Sparkle couple is doing their best

Take my life

There’s a river that’s swollen with rain
You wouldn’t guess that I’ve known so much pain
I have a heart, swollen with pride
You wouldn’t guess what I hold inside
Oh, it feels so good to have you around
I feel the walls come tumbling down
I’m ready to change, ready to feel
To be revealed.

Take my life in your hands
Take my love, be my man
I’m tired of all the lonely nights
I need someone to hold me in the candlelight
Take my life, I wanna live
I have so much more I want to give
I need a love that cuts like a knife
Take my life.

There’s a river that’s runnin’ wild
Could I take you back when I was a child
I want to see just who I am
To be revealed.

Take My hand and lead me
With your love you can free me
Oh, take the chains, away from my heart,
Take my life.

Возьми мою жизнь

Там река, которая вздулась от дождя,
Если бы ты догадался, что я так много страдала.
Моё сердце наполнено гордостью –
Если бы ты догадался, что я держу внутри.
О, так хорошо быть с тобой рядом,
Я чувствую, как стены рушатся,
Я готова к изменениям, готова для чувств,
Быть открытой.

Там река, бегущая бурно
Если бы я встретила тебя, когда была ребёнком.
Я хочу только видеть, кто я есть
Быть раскрытой.

Возьми мою руку и веди меня,
Своей любовью ты можешь освободить меня.
О, сними цепь с моего сердца,
Возьми мою жизнь.

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take my hand, take my whole life too by emilieee

Fandoms: Miraculous Ladybug

Summary

Shouldering the weight of the world on one’s own was never an easy task, and Marinette learns this the hard way.

As the enemy grows stronger, her distance from everyone around her seems to grow wider as well—from her partner, from her friends, from her parents. In a time where unity is the only fighting chance they have, it also seems to be the one thing they cannot achieve.

But sometimes, it takes a bit of rule-breaking, a bit of crying, and a perhaps a couple of awful jokes to realize that the weight of the sky is much lighter when shared.

Перевод Hozier Take me to church

Моя любовь, как черный юмор, грешен я,
и смех ползет над тризнами в церквях,
а люди не поднимут грустных глаз,
им просто страшно…
помолитесь за безумных нас.

Ты слышишь, говорят, что все больны,
и вроде даже в этом нет ничьей вины,
никто не виноват, ни Церковь, ни Отец,
и я несу в постель твою венец.
Ведь есть один лишь рай во всех мирах,
и я молюсь тебе на риск на свой и страх.
Здесь все попутаны каким-нибудь грехом,
мне нравится болеть тобой,
не думать ни о ком.

Аминь Аминь Аминь

Я был когда-то слеп и неотесан, как дикарь,
но ты теперь мой свет, мой пастырь и алтарь.
Проси, что хочешь в жертву – принесу,
я море осушу и сотворю грозу.
А хочешь в стойле белого коня?
Люби и ты лишь одного из всех – меня.
Ты знала, наша церковь любит лгать?
И голодает паства, вере в книгах догнивать,
когда все выглядит богато, как в раю.
И будет жуткий голод. И потом тебя убьют.

Наш ритуал священен, от богов закрыт.
И нет невиннее того, что мы даем в дары
друг другу среди белых простыней.
Я чист, и ты чиста среди греховных дней.

Аминь Аминь Аминь.

Take me to church

My lover’s got humour,
She’s the giggle at a funeral
Knows everybody’s disapproval
I should’ve worshipped her sooner
If the Heavens ever did speak
She is the last true mouth piece
Every Sunday’s getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week
We were born sick, you heard them say it
My church offers no absolutes
She tells me ‘worship in the bedroom’
The only heaven I’ll be sent to
Is when I’m alone with you
I was born sick, but I love it
Command me to be well

Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

If I’m a pagan of the good times
My lover’s the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice
To drain the whole sea
Get something shiny
Something meaty for the main course
That’s a fine looking high horse
What you got in the stable?
We’ve a lot of starving faithful
That looks tasty
That looks plenty
This is hungry work

Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me my deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

No masters or kings when the ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am human
Only then I am clean

Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

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Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too)

thetalee

Summary:

During the Christmas party at the station, Eddie makes a brave step forward.

A Buddie AU starting from the season 3 Christmas episode, and moving onwards.

Notes:

I always thought that, if I was writing it, the season 3 Christmas episode would have been the prime opportunity for Buddie to be canon. Hence, this. Work title is from the Elvis song, «Can’t Help Falling in Love.»

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Where You Belong (Inside My Arms)

Chapter Text

The Christmas party was a success. Not that Buck ever really had any doubt about it, but still. Here he was on Christmas Day, at home and surrounded by his family. It was everything he had ever wanted as a child, and it made him all warm and fuzzy inside as an adult. The only problem was, well…

There was Bobby and Athena, with Michael and the kids; there was Hen and Karen and Denny; there was Maddie and Chimney, taking that step forward; there was Eddie and Chris with his abuela.

Buck was surrounded by his family, but they all had their own families within it. Not that he held any of that against them, obviously. What kind of heartless monster would be upset over their loved ones being loved? Just old insecurities, rearing their heads once again. The past year really gave them fuel to last forever.

Listen, Buck never once regretted fighting for his job. Bobby was in the wrong, had pulled a dick move in keeping him from his job. There was no debating that, it was what it was. And that was after he spent months and months alone in his apartment, unable to spend as much time with his family as he wanted to. That was the core of it, really, the burning desire to be with his family again combined with the absolute terror of being tossed aside like he always seemed to be.

(He could remember how he felt, when he saw Bosko’s name taped over his own. The agony, the rage, the terror. The way he found himself chanting and shouting and crying the same word in his mind, over and over: No. No, no, no, no.)

But the methods? If he could do it all over again, Buck would definitely change those. Maybe make a bigger effort to go through the department’s union. Try to go over Bobby’s head, since he deemed it appropriate to go behind his back. He definitely should have gotten a better lawyer. Although maybe Mackey deserved more credit, because the city had offered him a seven digit settlement.

Mostly, though? Buck would have spoken to Eddie first. If he changed nothing else, he would have changed that. Because Eddie and Chris had both deserved better. Because now things between them were… Better, but not great? Broken, but healing?

Fragile. They were fragile. That’s a good word for it. Fragile and delicate, and Buck knew what could happen if he pushed too hard and asked for too much before things were settled. So he didn’t push and he didn’t ask for anything, even if sometimes he couldn’t stop himself from being stupid and flirting in kitchens. But his feelings were so big and clumsy, and he figured he could be excused for the way they escaped him at times.

A year ago, Buck would have happily walked over to join the Diazes without hesitation. He would have done it half a year ago, although it would have been more of a hobble than a walk. Today, instead, he turned and made his way down the loft’s stairs and to the lockers, intent on stashing away the fake sprig of mistletoe he had been using to torment (almost) everyone.

He was almost there, rounding the trucks with the loft out of sight, when Eddie’s voice had him freezing and turning in place.

“Running away from your party?”

“It’s not my party, I just helped plan it,” Buck said. “Shouldn’t you be with Chris and your abuela?”

“Saw you slinking off, decided to follow.”

“You make it sound like I’m off to do something nefarious.”

“One never knows, I’ve heard the stories.” Eddie was grinning, his canines showing, and Buck rolled his eyes at the audacity of the man in front of him.

“I was going to put this away in my bag, you jerk,” Buck said, waving the mistletoe around a bit. He watched, breath stuttering, as Eddie gently grabbed him by the wrist and took it from him. His skin burned where the other man was touching him, and he hoped to god he wasn’t blushing as bad as he knew he was.

“It took me a long time to understand why I was so angry,” Eddie said, apropos of nothing. “About the lawsuit, I mean.”

“Shannon asked for a divorce, that night we went out. Did I tell you that? She wanted to leave again, and I was so hurt and angry. And then she died, and I felt guilty for being angry, so I buried it until it was gone.” Eddie’s fingers spun the mistletoe around, but his gaze was stuck on Buck’s. “And then you filed that lawsuit and it was like all that anger had never gone away.”

“I was never really angry with you,” Eddie interrupted, barreling through the latest of Buck’s apologies. “Or, I was, but only because it made me feel like I had that night. I was angry because the possibility of you leaving reminded me so much of Shannon leaving.”

“What are you saying, Eddie?” Buck asked, barely daring to breathe, because surely not. He had stopped believing in Christmas miracles long before his first festive postcard to Maddie had gone unanswered. But as he watched, Eddie slowly raised his hand over their heads, the mistletoe dangling from his fingers.

Kissing Eddie was like coming home. It was warmth and it was fireworks and it was the waves cresting upon the beach. At some point, he felt the mistletoe bouncing off his head as Eddie’s hands went to his hair, his shoulders, his waist. At some point, his back was pressed against the firetruck and his front was pressed against Eddie. At some point, the world ceased to exist beyond Eddie’s mouth on his and Eddie’s hands on him and his hands on Eddie.

The kiss seemed to last forever and yet not long enough. Eddie pulled away, Buck leaning forward to chase after him, both of their chests heaving for air.

“I don’t ever want you to leave,” Eddie whispered.

“Never,” Buck answered, resting his forehead against the other man’s. “For as long you’ll have me.”

For as long as you’ll stay, he didn’t say.

“Come to mine, after shift?” Eddie asked, as if there was ever any other possibility. “We’ll talk, together and with Chris.”

“You want Chris to know?” The question caused Eddie to look at him as if he was an idiot before he stepped away. Buck whined at the loss.

“C’mon, we’ve chanced it as is, I want to spend time with our family while we have it.”

“Yes, Buck.” Eddie’s roll of his eyes was nothing but fond as he took Buck’s hand in his and led him back to the loft. “Our family.”

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Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

sandean_cas

Summary:

“Picking a flower like this has a price.” Cass continues, “A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.” Dean’s eyes dart to Cass’ upper arm, as another red patch appears. “I needed to do this Dean. You taught me freewill – right and wrong. And I just needed to prove that I do know the difference.”

“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.”

“And – I’m so tired of you hating me. It’s just better this way.” The intensity of his gaze bores into Dean. Stripping away the layers of hurt and betrayal. This is their bond. Something profound. But despite it all. Cass’ words ring in his ears like a chant. Taunting him. There’s no way to save his friend. He grips the coat tighter. Dean’s throat burns with the force of the words trapped behind his lips.

“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.

“It’s better this way? Right?” Cass’ eyes shine with an unspoken plea.

“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.

“Yes.” Dean says firmly. “Yes.”

Work Text:

Hacking through Purgatory like a madman, searching for one angel with Benny by his side.

“…Take my hand.” He had screamed it atop the rocky slopes as he held his hand out, longing for Cass to grip it tight. Dead thought, maybe this once, I can be the one to grip him tight and raise him. The bitterness of that failure is what fuels this desperate hunt.

He has the flower. He should just go. But he can’t.

Not without Cass.

“Dean!” Benny snaps. “We gotta split up to cover this ground in such a short time.”

Of course, Dean knows that. But even so, he’s reluctant to split up. What if Benny finds Cass and he’s hurt? What if Benny can’t keep him alive long enough for Dean to get there?

Benny ‘tisks’ at him. “If I find hot wings, I’ll send him your way, but if you find him, just high tail it back to that portal, hear me?” Dean’s shoulders sag. When Benny says it, it sounds so simple.

“Thanks Benny.” He nods once. A final goodbye.

Then he marches off.

Dean’s gun is cocked, loaded with a special borax filled shell that he and Cass prepared just before leaving for Purgatory. He took pleasure in hearing the Leviathans shriek as he pumped them full of these little suckers.

He sees the tiniest edge of the figure hiding behind the tree. Keeping his footsteps light, Dean approaches carefully. Before whipping around to face the monster, gun raised.

“Cass.” He breathes, lowering the gun.

Anger sets in, replacing his previous concern. “Why are you just sitt-” He sucks in a sharp breath, dropping his gun with a clatter. “Shit.”

Hands pressed tightly to his abdomen doesn’t stop the flow of blood even as Cass looks up at him, eyes full of terror.

“Where’s your gun?” Dean demands. His hands trembling and he crouches next to Cass, gripping his collar, he can feel the sluggish beat of his heart, see the sheen of sweat from the exertion of just staying alive. “Damn it!” he yells. “What got you?”

His blood boils. It boils. “Now isn’t the time to lie to me!” he snarls, shrugging off his coat to press it over the bloodied area. He can’t even make out an incision point past all the fabric and blood, but that doesn’t matter.

“C’mon Cass.” He slaps Cass’ cheek as his head begins to nod. “Stay with me.” Like you can never seem to manage.

“Dean.” He uses the last of his strength to shrug him off. “Go.”

It’s so reminiscent of their last moments here, all those years ago, that tears fill his eyes. He vowed to never feel this helpless again.

“Take my hand! Hold on!”

“Dean please. You don’t need me.” Cass’ breath hitches, “You never did. You go. Save the world.” Dean grips the lapels of his coat tighter. He can’t just leave him here. Not again. But his throat is too clogged to make an argument. All the things that he’s ever wanted to say claws their way up, creating a bottleneck right near his voice box.

“Picking a flower like this has a price.” Cass continues, staring up at him, eyes red and panicked. “A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.” Dean’s eyes dart to Cass’ upper arm, as another red patch appears beneath his shirt. He can’t believe that Cass kept this from him; but then Cass’ persistence that he should be the one to pick it should have raised red flags in Dean’s mind. He can’t believe that he was naïve enough to think that something like this could go smoothly. “I needed to do this Dean. You taught me freewill – right and wrong. And I just needed to prove that I do know the difference.”

Cass’ voice comes in pants. Dean wishes Sam were here. He’d know what to do. How to fix this.

“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.”

“It’s better this way? Right?” Cass’ eyes shine with an unspoken plea.

“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.”

“Yes.” Dean says firmly, shakes his shoulders vehemently. “Yes.” He repeats.

“… the vessel.”

Tears fill Cass’ eyes and he looks away.

“Cass listen.” Dean pleads. “It’s going to eat away at you vessel. Your vessel. Not your grace.” He almost smiles as Cass opens his eyes to stare back at him. “You get me buddy?” his voice shakes. “Yes.” He repeats.

Dean shuts his eyes against the bright glow of Cass’ grace and they stutter open as his essence settles within Dean. Just floating, not grabbing or controlling or drowning him. This is Cass, he reminds himself. Dean blinks his eyes a few times, adjusting to the sensation.

“I never hated you.” he admits.

“Now – I can – I know Dean.”

And just then, the ramifications of Dean’s decision hits him. He does know. Every unspoken thought, ever action he contemplated but never completed. He knows. And maybe Dean should care, but he doesn’t. It feels nice, like the gently presence of Cass’ grace inside him, knowing that even if things aren’t great, that they’re there for each other.

Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help, falling in love with you…

♪ ♫ ”҈ ♪ ♫

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take my hand, take my whole life too

elsinorerose, shaypotter

Summary:

«Traditional Nicodrani weddings can take many forms, full of different customs and rituals and words, but today’s ceremony is going to be short and simple. They only had a few weeks to plan it, after all — they have actually let a rumor circulate that Jester is pregnant in order to divert suspicion about the very short notice — and besides, the ceremony itself isn’t the point. The point is to observe the Duke and the magistrate, to eavesdrop on them if they sneak away together at any point during the reception, and so Jester and the others have arranged for little more than a brief meditation, one song, and vows.

It will be fifteen minutes at the most, thinks Caleb. Maybe twenty, if things go a little long. He can get through it. It will be fine.»

Jester and Caleb pull off an elaborate ruse.

Written for day 1 of #widojestweek, for the prompt «dance.»

Notes:

Ages ago Christine promised Bones some wedding fic in exchange for an embarrassing photo of Bones’s hair with pink extensions. This long overdue gift is now gladly given. Thanks to Comet, our resident Zemnian expert, and Bones, Baelkaz, and LadyofPurple, our glorious beta-readers, for all their help. Please ignore how fast and loose we played with POV in this fic, this is not a college writing seminar, you are not allowed to slap us on the wrist. 🙂

Chapter 1 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

«CALEB!» shouts Jester at the top of her lungs, «DID YOU GET THE RINGS?»

She hears a chuckle from the other side of the door, which. isn’t actually that thick, really, she probably didn’t have to shout that loud. «Ja, I have the rings, Jester,» comes Caleb’s voice.

Jester’s heart skips a beat. Which is dumb. This isn’t real, none of it’s real, they’re not really getting married today. They’re hosting a fake wedding, is what they’re doing, to get the magistrate of Nicodranas and Duke Damali in the same room together so that Beau and Fjord can figure out if they’re the ones working together to betray the Conclave. This is a mission, and Jester is playing a part, which means that Caleb is too.

There is the slightest creak as the doorknob begins to turn.

«Don’t come in!» Jester shrieks, her hands caught in her headpiece as she adjusts the veil she’s trying to pin to her hair.

Outside the room, Caleb grins, turns the knob so slowly and pushes the door open just a crack. «What was that?» he calls. «Did you say come in?»

The door slams shut.

He laughs softly. «Maybe not?»

«You can’t see me!» hisses Jester from inside. «It’s bad luck! God, it’s like you’ve never gotten married before.»

Caleb rests his forehead against the door, smiling. His heart has no right to feel this full. «This would be my first time,» he murmurs.

«Well you can’t see my dress till the actual ceremony, Caleb, it’s tradition.»

He smooths a careful hand down his own outfit, which still feels vaguely uncomfortable, like he’s impersonating someone. The Nicodrani robe is a dark red, like heart’s blood, accented with gold embroidery and falling past his knees, layered over dark trousers and a white vest that can just be seen through the robe’s golden clasps. It is all. expensive, and formal — this is a wedding, of course it is formal — but it is like nothing Caleb ever expected to wear again.

But Jester picked it out herself. The least bright, least ostentatious robe she could find — you’d never wear anything flashy, Cayleb, I know that, she’d said, drawing out that first syllable of his name the way only Jester does, her mouth curved up in a soft smile.

So he’s wearing the robe. After all, it’s tradition.

«You have a lot of experience getting married, Lavorre?» he finds himself asking through the door. «You seem pretty knowledgeable.»

On the other side, Jester grins as she finishes pinning her veil and moves on to add the last touches to her earrings, horn jewelry, and makeup. «No, but I’ve read, like, a ton of wedding books, Caleb, I know everything. I used to plan out my dream wedding with Mama sometimes!»

«How is this one shaping up? Dream come true?»

She can’t help but keep smiling. «Oh, you know. not too bad.»

«No cold feet yet?»

«My feet are freezing, Caleb.» Jester slips into her wedding shoes — lace-covered slippers with just a bit of a heel. «I mean, I’m only going through with this to, you know, save the city. If there weren’t actual lives at stake I’d be climbing out the window right now.»

She hears Caleb’s soft laugh, the one that always makes her stomach flip with pleasure. «Truly, you are a hero for the masses, marrying me.»

«It’s a pretty big sacrifice.»

God, she’s blushing — the face that looks back at her in the mirror is flushed a deep pink that her light, natural makeup can’t do anything to hide. Jester takes a few deep breaths, tries to steady herself. It’s fine. It’s good for the ruse, actually — people will expect her to be a blushing bride, right? Everyone will expect it.

She stops herself.

«Um, are the rings super pretty?» she calls out, hoping she doesn’t sound as self-conscious as she feels.

«No, I bought you an ugly ring,» replies Caleb. «Hope that is all right.» He can feel the weight of them both, as small as they are, in the breast pocket of his robe. They burn there, like spell components that he’s just prepared, waiting to be brought out at the right moment.

«Make sure you remember to give them to Caduceus before the ceremony, okay?» comes Jester’s voice through the door.

«I won’t forget,» he promises, and he rests his hand against the door for a moment before he moves away.

The shadows of Jester’s feet shift back and forth under the bottom of the door and catch Caleb’s eye, and he can’t breathe for a moment. She is right there.

«We could break tradition, you know,» he hears himself say softly, «and speak without shouting through a door.»

«Do you want our marriage to be cursed?»

Gods help him, he can hear the smile in her voice. «Fair point,» he manages, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. It’s almost humiliating how much he wants to just. see her. See her before he’s expected to act the part, before every word and action becomes calculated for an audience. He wishes he were allowed to admire her, openly, just the two of them. To worship her with his eyes, before anyone else gets to see her in a wedding dress.

Caleb clears his throat roughly. «I should go help everyone get ready.» This is a mission, after all. «I will see you downstairs in a bit.»

It’s as he’s turning to leave that her hears her murmur his name.

He freezes. «Jester?»

Her voice is quiet, but brimming with an undertone of excitement. «See you soon.»

And just like that, his resolve breaks. He turns back, rests his hand flat against the door again, and takes a deep breath. «. one peek?»

There’s a moment of silence, and then Jester opens the door. Just a crack, just a few inches, enough for her to poke her face through while she hides the rest of herself behind the door. Just enough to show a flash of white, a glimpse of a veil flowing back behind her hair where it’s pinned to a soft updo by a crystalline comb. Enough to reveal Jester’s sparkling eyes, her sweet face dusted with freckles and the faintest pink blush, her mouth turned up in a mischievous smile.

«Hi,» she says archly.

It’s almost too much. All of it. Caleb’s heart gives a painful leap in his chest. He must sound as breathless as he feels when he finally replies, «Hi.»

Jester winks at him. «This is cheating.»

«We…» Caleb swallows hard. «We have never worried too much about rules. We tend to make our own, don’t we?»

She doesn’t answer right away — she’s eyeing him up and down, the Nicodrani wedding robes, his hair tied back, the stupid look on his face. «You look nice,» she says at last, and Caleb has to laugh a little at that.

«You look stunning,» he tells her honestly, ignoring the urge to push the door open further. «At least what I can see of you.»

Jester grins. Her heart is pounding away in her chest at the sight of him, at his voice, his words, and she can’t think of any cute or clever replies — there’s nothing, so she just grins, and then slowly closes the door, inch by inch, not taking her eyes from Caleb’s.

«Don’t be late,» is what she comes up with, just before she clicks the door shut.

With a few deep breaths, she tries to get her blush under control and erase what she’s sure must be obvious, stupid feelings on her obvious, stupid face.

It takes her a moment to realize she hasn’t heard any footsteps moving away on the other side of the door.

How long they both stand there, Jester isn’t sure — Caleb would know, must know, the way his mind ticks like a clock, counting off seconds — but it’s got to be a minute or two. Just breathing, feeling the painted wood under her palm, wondering if her hand is being mirrored on the other side. Silence, and closeness, and something racing in her veins, like adrenaline or magic or love.

Then a clock strikes the hour, somewhere in another room, down the hall or on the floor above, and the spell breaks. Jester smooths out her dress with hands that are only slightly trembling. In the hallway outside she hears the faint creak of shoes on floorboards, moving away towards the staircase.

It’s just about time.

Traditional Nicodrani weddings can take many forms, full of different customs and rituals and words, but today’s ceremony is going to be short and simple. They only had a few weeks to plan it, after all — they have actually let a rumor circulate that Jester is pregnant in order to divert suspicion about the very short notice — and besides, the ceremony itself isn’t the point. The point is to observe the Duke and the magistrate, to eavesdrop on them if they sneak away together at any point during the reception, and so Jester and the others have arranged for little more than a brief meditation, one song, and vows.

It will be fifteen minutes at the most, thinks Caleb. Maybe twenty, if things go a little long. He can get through it. It will be fine.

«You excited?» mutters Beauregard into his ear with a grin as they’re all taking their places. They are on the landing of the Lavish Chateau’s grand staircase, overlooking the ground floor, and the Mighty Nein, as friends of the couple, are arrayed on either side along the lower steps of the two wings leading up to the second floor. This is where the Ruby of the Sea makes her entrance whenever she performs — only today she will be singing from a nearby balcony. In her place, in the middle of the landing, stands Caduceus, who will be officiating, and Caleb with him, and in only a few minutes.

«I said are you excited?»

Caleb resists an urge to scowl at Beau. Instead he glances out at the small crowd of people still filing in below them, gathering around a makeshift aisle, really just a long carpet rolled out through the middle of the floor — with so short a ceremony, the guests will be standing, though there are of course tables and chairs at the edges of the room for when food will be served — and pretends that he is scanning the crowd for their targets.

Beauregard is probably not fooled — she has almost certainly seen the way he is clenching his hands together nervously behind his back. Caleb rocks a little on his heels. «Ja, we will — we will get some good information, hopefully,» he murmurs, avoiding her eye.

«Oh, some real good information,» she grins.

Caleb elbows her. «You think you are very funny, don’t you?» he mumbles, shooting her a look.

Beauregard pats him on the back. «She looks great, by the way,» she adds just before stepping back to her spot.

At those words Caleb could swear his heart rate doubles. His gaze is drawn against his will, for the hundredth time, to the front doors of the Chateau, down at the other end of what feels like an impossibly long aisle. Somewhere outside, Jester is waiting, ready to come through those doors, to walk across the room and up these stairs, to stand in front of Caleb and…

He swallows. Not to marry him. To do her part for the mission.

Caleb! comes Nott’s voice in his ear. She is the only member of the wedding party, besides Jester, who is not at her place on the staircase yet — she is still down on the floor among the guests doing some last-minute recon. I’ve got eyes on the targets. The Duke’s over by the bar and Magistrate What’s-her-face is in the corner by the table with the blue flowers. Youcanreplytothismessage.

The bird’s eye view from the staircase makes it easy to follow Nott’s directions and spot both figures where she described them. Caleb gives a curt nod. «I see them,» he whispers back, before pausing with a slight frown. «Nott, are. are you crying?»

A little spark of warmth goes off in his chest. «You know that this is not my real wedding, ja?» he murmurs.

Yes! I know! Which is why I’m not crying!

«Get up here,» smiles Caleb. If there’s one thing he’s sure of today, it’s that he isn’t getting fake married without Nott the Brave at his side.

By the time she has taken her place beside Fjord on the steps to Caleb’s left — wiping suspiciously at her eyes — the last of the guests have arrived, and Caduceus gives a nod down to the musicians near the foot of the staircase. Only the best for the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea: a string quartet, a pianist, a harpist, and someone with a wind instrument that Caleb can’t identify. This may not be Jester Lavorre’s true wedding, Marion had told them all with a soft gleam in her eye, but she will have the finest musicians in the Menagerie Coast nonetheless.

Caleb is grateful for her support, of course, and for everything that she has done to make today possible, for the good of the Conclave and the safety of the city. but he could have done without that gleam in her eye. She is standing only a few dozen yards away right now, at her place on the balcony where she will sing soon, and when Caleb glances her way she meets his eye with a small smile. A knowing smile.

The Ruby’s business is to see into hearts, he thinks. If only his heart had a little more darkness around it these days.

Then the music strikes up, and everyone turns toward the front of the room. A moment, another moment, and then Jester walks through the doors.

Caleb’s breath leaves him like he’s been punched in the gut.

She is in a white dress. Of course she’s in a white dress. But it is somehow. startling, the way it contrasts with her blue skin, the way it seems to float with each step she takes, gauzy and ethereal around her like a cloud. Her shoulders are bare, and over her face is the sheerest of sheer veils, so translucent that her face is easy to see. The smile on her lips is as shy as Caleb has ever seen it. Her eyes. her eyes are brilliant, and they are fixed on him.

She is beautiful. She is everything.

Caleb takes a breath. Swallows against the emotion rising swift in his chest, threatening to choke him. Gods, he can’t help himself when it comes to Jester. The last little bit of resistance hiding away somewhere in his heart crumbles in this moment as he watches her walk slowly towards him down the aisle. Whatever else, there’s no denying that his feelings for her are real.

This should all be real, whispers his heart. Every moment of it.

Jester really is trying not to just stare at Caleb. There’s plenty to stare at, and it’s all overwhelming: her family, the Mighty Nein, standing up there — Fjord and Nott behind Caleb, Beau and Yasha on the other side where Jester herself will be soon — her mother on the balcony, beaming down at her, gorgeous in a deep scarlet gown — the green-cloaked figure that only she can see, standing behind Caduceus, with a soft smile playing about its mouth just visible below the dark hood obscuring the rest of its face.

But her gaze keeps getting pulled back to Caleb. To his smart robes, to his hair tied gently back, to the look on his face. He’s staring at her, lips parted, silent, and there’s fire in his eyes.

He looks beautiful. He looks like he’s in awe, like he’s thunderstruck. He looks like he’s in love.

Jester forgets about walking in time with the music. Everything important seems to be flying out of her head. Thank goodness for the flowers she’s clutching in front of her — she’s only just now realizing that wedding bouquets must be so that the bride has something to do with her hands, because her palms are sweating like mad and it’s good to have anything to hold onto. She only hopes she doesn’t crush these lilies with her death-grip.

When she reaches the landing at the top of the stairs, she’s early: the piece isn’t over yet, and she stands there awkwardly, unsure what to do, until Nott holds out a hand for her flowers. Jester blinks and tears her gaze away from Caleb’s face long enough to give them to her.

As soon as her hands are empty, Caleb reaches for her, takes her hands in his own, and lifts them up to press a quick kiss to the backs of her knuckles. «Hi,» he murmurs.

«Hi,» Jester whispers back.

He rubs his thumb in a slow circle across the back of her hand and memorizes every part of this moment. Her soft smile. How close she is. The lace, delicate, against her skin, framing her bare shoulders. The curve of her neck, the freckles dancing down to her clavicle.

Jester’s smile widens ever so slightly and she blows a little pfft of air at her veil, making it lift for just a moment. «You have to flip it up,» she whispers, suppressing a giggle.

Caleb laughs, quietly so that it stays between them, private somehow in this very public moment. Then he releases one of her hands, reaches up with trembling fingers to lift her gauzy veil up over her head. He hears Jester’s breath catch as he does so.

God he’s handsome, she thinks. The sunlight streaming through the Chateau’s windows is doing things to his hair, bringing out the copper and gold in every strand. As he lifts her veil back, his eyes are shining. One of his fingertips brushes feather-light against her cheek as he lowers his hand.

«Pretty cool, huh?» Jester whispers.

Caleb just stares at her. Finally he manages, «Pretty spectacular.»

The processional music ends at last, and Jester’s heart leaps into her throat. Every eye in the room is on her, she can feel it, and normally she loves nothing more than to be the center of attention, loves it just as much as Caleb hates it, but right now…

Caleb is holding both of her hands still. He gives them a squeeze. «Last chance, Lavorre,» he murmurs, just for her, the softest edge of playfulness in his voice. «Change your mind?»

She can’t speak, but she shakes her head, keeping her eyes on his.

«Good,» he whispers.

Caduceus’s meditation is. probably pretty lovely, probably full of wisdom and fondness, but Jester doesn’t really hear any of it. She barely hears her mother sing, a sweet Sylvan aria that she chose herself, the Ruby of the Sea’s favorite love song — Jester tries to listen, truly she does, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything when Caleb is holding her hands and looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world.

She has to pay attention to Caduceus, though, when it’s time for the vows. Traditional Nicodrani words, a short set of phrases to repeat, nothing fancy. Jester speaks hers in a soft, low voice. If it weren’t for her mother’s simple amplification spell, cast on the two of them just at this moment, no one would be able to hear her but Caleb, she’s speaking so quietly.

Caleb feels her vows like lightning through his veins. For the rest of his life, he thinks faintly, he will never forget what it’s like to hear those words in Jester’s voice.

When it is his turn, he repeats the phrases carefully at Caduceus’s prompting. Loses himself in Jester’s eyes as he swears himself to her. And when he slips in a phrase in Zemnian, he ignores the confused glance he sees Caduceus giving him out of the corner of his eye, ignores Beauregard’s awkward cough, ignores everything but the way Jester’s smile gets a little brighter even though she doesn’t understand what he’s just said. No one else here speaks Zemnian. He squares his shoulders and continues with the rest of the vows as if nothing has changed.

Something heavy in his chest tells him that everything has absolutely changed.

«Caleb and Jester, will you now exchange these rings, as a symbol of your vows?» asks Caduceus, calm and steady as ever, and he holds them out, bright and gleaming in the center of his palm.

Jester nearly gasps when she sees them. This is the one part of the wedding she had nothing to do with — it had been Caleb’s job to get the rings, and she had assumed that he would. ask her mother for one of hers, perhaps, or take something from Nott’s stash of jewelry, or at least spend the party funds on something cheap but functional for this fake wedding.

But the ring she sees Caduceus holding is. expensive. And it’s not her mother’s, unless Marion’s fingers have shrunk recently. Jester can see at once that this thin, delicate band of gold, intermittently set with tiny diamonds and sapphires, will fit her slender ring finger perfectly.

It does. Caleb slides it gently onto the fourth finger of Jester’s right hand, as is the custom for Nicodrani women, the light catching it and setting the stones to gleaming as he pushes it past her knuckle and settles it snug against her skin. It matches her, she thinks — it matches her like Caleb matches her. Just the right fit.

Caleb’s ring is different. It’s a thicker gold band, rough and natural-looking, like it was crafted by hand with great care. When Jester slips it onto his finger, she sees him swallow, and there are unshed tears in his eyes.

Jester threads their fingers together, her right hand with his left one. Their rings are pressed together, and for a long moment Caleb stares: blue and white and gold, and Jester beyond, her sweet face turned up to his. He lifts his gaze back to her, finally, and there is no more hiding. Whatever is plain on his face is there to stay.

At their side, Caduceus gives a slow nod of benediction. There is a stifled sniffle from Beauregard, who is smirking hard to keep herself from crying. «You have exchanged vows and rings,» Caduceus says clearly, «and it is now my honor to declare you wed in the eyes of god and men.» The traditional words, followed by the traditional declaration: «You may now kiss your bride.»

Caleb can’t move.

But Jester can. She puts up her free hand to cup his jawline, stands on her tiptoes a little, and kisses him full on the mouth.

He loses himself in her. His hand finds the back of her neck, keeps her close as he returns the kiss, dizzy with the rush of it all, with the sweetness of her lips on his. It’s over far too soon, as any wedding kiss should be, and when they break for air Caleb is about to say — something, but Jester moves back in for more, catches him in another kiss, hard and soft at the same time. Just once, as though she can’t help herself, as though it’s not enough.

Caleb’s heart skips a beat. Several beats. When they do finally pull apart, he scans her face, his cheeks warm and his eyes searching.

«Jester…» he begins, so softly that he wonders if she even hears.

People are clapping, he is dimly aware. Almost none of the guests here actually know him or Jester, of course — they are only here because invitations from the Ruby of the Sea are not refused, after all, that is the whole reason why this ruse worked in the first place — but there is a polite applause from the crowd below, possibly even genuine from a few of them.

They can all go to hell, Caleb thinks, barely able to keep himself from leaning forward and kissing Jester again — but then Caduceus is nodding at them to head downstairs, to greet their guests and accept congratulations, and the moment is gone.

They don’t get another moment for a while. It’s all handshakes and thank you’s after that, as people come up to wish them joy, to tell them how happy they both look, what a lovely ceremony it was. Jester keeps one arm tucked into Caleb’s the whole time as they work the crowd, but what she really wants — what she can tell he really wants, from the way he keeps stealing glances at her — is a few minutes alone together. Just sixty seconds, she’d take it.

She gets it, eventually, but not with Caleb. It’s Beau who comes and finds her and starts leading her off to a side room so that she can have a chance to take off her veil, touch up her makeup, and exchange her heels for some soft flats. There’s going to be dancing later.

Caleb stops Jester with a hand to her arm just as Beau is guiding her away. Pulls her into a quick, fleeting kiss, then watches her go.

«How about that, huh?» murmurs Beau as soon as they’re alone. «Did you see that?»

«What?» Jester takes off her veil with clumsy fingers. Her heart is pounding. That was not a mandatory kiss that time, huh.

«The magistrate, dude. She was giving the Duke this, like, totally come hither look. Like a let’s go outside and talk about our special treason project together look.»

«. Are you listening?»

Jester has one shoe in her hand and one halfway onto her foot. «Yeah, yeah, I’m listening. The Duke and his treason.»

Beau rolls her eyes. «God, you’re useless like this. I love it. Go back out there and keep distracting everyone. It’s obvious how much fun you’re having.»

Jester glances up at her, her nerves fluttering all over the place. «Is. is it obvious?»

That’s stupid. Glowing is stupid. She scowls at Beau, but gets nothing but a grin in response.

Somewhere in the distance behind her, she hears the Traveler’s soft and echoing chuckle.

When she slips back out into the main hall a few minutes later, Jester looks for Caleb, but she is intercepted by a handful of guests first, more people who just have to praise her beauty and choice of music and thank her for including them in her special day. All of them are strangers — one of them calls her Jessica by mistake. She stifles a laugh at that. Another congratulates her on her pregnancy before seemingly remembering that that was supposed to be a secret — Jester does laugh at that, and at the way he blushes a deep purple as he scurries away to blend back in with the anonymous crowd.

And then it’s Mama, coming up to her through a sea of people who all part the way for her, taking Jester’s hands and pressing a kiss to her cheek, her golden eyes filled with tears. Jester’s heart aches a little at the pride and pleasure her mother so obviously takes in the sight of her daughter in a wedding dress. She knows her Mama well enough to tell when she’s acting and when she’s being genuine, and there is nothing false here, even though she’s in on the ruse.

«Your new husband cleans up pretty good, no?» asks Marion with a twinkle in her eye after she’s finished gushing over Jester herself.

Jester blushes. «. Yeah, he. yeah,» she mumbles, conscious of all the bystanders milling around them, finding their tables and seats.

Marion arches an eyebrow. «He looks pretty happy. And a little bit dazed.»

«Shut up!» Jester hisses, but she can’t control the smile that breaks over her face.

By the time Nott and Fjord have cornered her and gotten in their merciless teasing, and Yasha has stammered out an awkward but sincere congratulations, Jester is beginning to lose her mind. She hasn’t been able to catch a sight of Caleb since coming back out of the side room. He must be working the crowd, sticking to the plan — or it’s just possible that the Duke and the magistrate have kidnapped him, and this reception might be about to turn into a rescue mission…

There’s a rush of strings, and suddenly music fills the room. Beau appears at Jester’s elbow, her expression eager. «It’s dancing time,» she smiles. «Go on.»

She gives her a little shove to the small of her back, and suddenly Jester is in the center of the room. And so is Caleb.

The music softens, calms, gets into pace for the first dance. Just the two of them, something slow. Later on there will be a waltz, Jester knows, and a few livelier numbers, and maybe even a cotillion, and everyone will be invited to join, but for now all eyes are on them.

It’s a heady feeling, thinks Caleb: an entire room of people looking at him and seeing Jester’s husband.

He swallows. Before him, Jester is blushing, her hair tumbling loosely out of its updo, free of her veil, and she steps forward and just. rests her hands on his shoulders.

Caleb’s hands drop to her waist and draw her in close, till there’s hardly any space between them. «Hello, wife,» he murmurs down to her, feeling like a fool even as part of him settles at the word, even as he breathes a little easier now that she’s back in his arms. He lets himself relax at her touch. «Doing all right?» he adds softly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant for just the two of them.

«I’m good,» she whispers back, gazing up at him. «You?»

He gives a small shrug and strokes one careful hand down her back. «It has been nice,» he says simply, his eyes refusing to leave her face. He wonders if it would be overdoing it to kiss her one more time.

Someone coughs, and he realizes that they’re supposed to be dancing.

Slowly, he begins to lead her, his hands more firmly on her waist, hers still resting on his shoulders, fiddling slightly with the edges of his collar now and then. There are no steps to this dance, no choreography to remember, it’s really little more than swaying, but it takes all of his concentration nonetheless, because Jester is in his arms, he can feel the heat of her body against him, he can smell lavender and mint on her breath and see every facet of the sapphires hanging from her earrings.

After a minute it becomes easier. The thrill of Jester’s touch and closeness settles into something more comfortable, more perfect, and maybe she feels it too, because she gives a contented sigh and slips her arms around his neck, resting her cheek gently against his shoulder.

He rests his chin against her temple in turn and allows his eyes to fall shut.

«Did I tell you that you look radiant? I can’t really remember if I’ve said it,» he mumbles against her skin, voice hoarse.

She smiles into his shoulder. «I don’t know,» she murmurs. «But I knew.» Whether that makes any sense to him or not, she’s not sure, but she doesn’t care. She keeps moving, slowly to the beat, hoping she doesn’t step on his feet or anything, and lets one of her hands come up to cup the nape of his neck. It would really be all right with her, she thinks, if this lasted forever: her and Caleb swaying on the dance floor, maybe in love, maybe not. As long as he keeps holding her like this, she doesn’t need an answer.

Caleb breathes her in. Jester’s hands on him might be the very best thing he’s ever felt. He lets one of his hands trail down her spine, his fingertips dragging over the fabric of her dress, finally settling on her lower back. Ducks his head and dares to press a single kiss against her bare shoulder. Holds his breath as he stays there, his lips inches from her skin.

She doesn’t pull away. If anything she moves a little closer, holds him a little tighter.

His heart leaps.

«Not bad for a shotgun wedding,» he whispers into her neck.

Jester muffles a giggle against his shoulder. «Not bad at all. Pretty good, actually.»

Someone somewhere must give a signal, or else maybe the music changed — Caleb has no idea, he’s just suddenly aware that other people are moving onto the dance floor and joining them, guests and some of their family, Beau and Yasha together, Marion dancing with Fjord. He shuts his eyes and brushes his lips against Jester’s shoulder again.

«Kind of perfect,» she whispers after a moment.

A little piece of something clicks into place in his chest. He pulls back, just enough to look Jester in the eyes, still close enough that he can keep his arms around her waist.

She laces her fingers together behind his neck. He wonders if she can feel his pulse jumping under his skin.

«You know, Jester,» he begins, searching for the right words with no idea whether he’ll find them or not — this wasn’t part of the plan, not ever, not until just this moment —

She gives him a hint of a smile. It’s all he needs.

«I have been meaning to speak to you about something,» he murmurs. Strokes the small of her back with his thumbs, revels in the fact that he’s able to do so. «Looking for a good moment.»

«Everyone’s dancing now,» she smiles. «No one’s paying attention to us anymore. Seems like a good moment to me.»

He leans in, touches their foreheads together. If you are sure, is what he means to say.

What comes out of his mouth is, «I have been in love with you for — months, really.»

Jester goes perfectly still. If they weren’t so close he might mistake this for panic, for incoming rejection — but he can see the light in her eyes, the curve at the corners of her lips, and he knows. With a swallow, he throws all caution to the wind.

«I think,» he murmurs, hoping she can even hear him this softly, «I would really like to be your husband one day.»

Her smile is blinding. She moves her hands from the back of his neck to frame his face, and he can feel her wedding ring cool against his skin. «Is this a proposal, Caleb?» she whispers.

«Depends,» he replies, smiling back. «Do you love me?»

She kisses him. Actually stops even pretending to dance and kisses him properly, her hands moving into his hair, her mouth open to him, a sigh trapped in her lungs that escapes when he surges into the kiss, putting in every ounce of longing and want that he has felt over the last few years of knowing and loving her. Her mouth is perfect against his. He bites down gently on her lip and is rewarded with a faint gasp as his hands spread possessively over her hips.

After a moment Caleb pulls back and shoots her an amused look. «That wasn’t really an answer, wife.»

«Yes it was,» she murmurs breathlessly. Shit, she really shouldn’t be this turned on in the middle of her wedding reception, right? «Was it unclear?»

«Ja, a bit unclear,» smiles Caleb. «Perhaps you could clarify for me.» His gaze drops back to her lips for a fraction of a second, his blue eyes practically burning.

Caleb stops thinking, just kisses Jester over and over. Murmurs I love you’s against her mouth, into her cheek, her neck. Kisses it into her forehead. Takes her hands in his own and whispers it against her fingers before catching her face between his palms. «You are everything,» he whispers. «Bevor dir war ich verloren.»

«Oh yeah?» Jester asks with a little huff of a laugh. «You said that during our vows, didn’t you? I would say me too if I knew what it meant.»

He strokes his thumb carefully over her cheekbone, committing to memory the freckles scattered there. «I was lost before you,» he whispers, his voice warm.

Jester loses her breath for a moment, and her eyes well up with tears. «Then — then — good thing I found you, huh?» she whispers, resting her forehead against his.

«I am pretty thankful,» he admits with a choked laugh. «Pretty thankful for you, liebste. «

Jester slides her hands down to rest her palms against his chest, smiling through her tears. «You’ll have to teach me how to say that,» she murmurs. «In Zemnian. For when we say our actual wedding vows.» One stray tear makes its way down her cheek.

Caleb wipes it away with the back of his finger. «I will teach you whatever you want, Jester. I…» Something catches in his voice, and Jester feels it in the pit of her stomach like butterflies. «I would like to spend the rest of my life loving you, if you will let me.»

«Is that a proposal?» she asks, her thumbs stroking the front of his shirt. She can feel his heartbeat under her right palm, and she glances down for a second at the ring on her finger, the one she’s been wearing for less than an hour, the one she never wants to take off.

«It’s a promise,» he replies simply, eyes serious.

She kisses him again, softly this time. «My answer’s still yes.»

He smiles. «I’ll hold you to that, Lavorre,» he teases quietly, mindful of the dancers around them. «But we should probably get through the first wedding before we start planning a second, I think.»

Jester pouts at him. «Does that mean I can’t keep this?» she asks, holding up her hand and wiggling her ring finger at him.

«No, I bought it for you,» he laughs. «You’ll get it back at some point, don’t worry.»

Feeling stupid and sentimental, she smacks a kiss to the ring, and then blushes hard. «I love it, Caleb,» she beams, and he’s aglow too, his hands dropping back to her waist, giving her the smallest squeeze. She might die with happiness, actually, right now, right here on the dance floor. Beau is definitely going to give her shit for this, and she doesn’t care. «It’s perfect. I don’t know what I was worried about.»

«I told you I wouldn’t get you an ugly ring,» he whispers, kissing her forehead.

«I love yours, too, you know,» she smiles. She takes his left hand from her waist and intertwines their fingers again, ring on ring. «It fits you somehow. Like. like a lot of work went into it, and out came something beautiful.»

Caleb swallows, and she sees something in his gaze shift, like he’s looking past her and not at her, just for a moment. «It is what I have left of my father,» he says quietly. «It — I wanted to use it here, with you. Even if it wasn’t…»

He glances around them, makes sure no one is listening.

«Even if it wasn’t real, I wanted them here today,» he finishes, color rising high in his face.

«Oh, Caleb…» Jester’s heart constricts, and she presses a kiss to his fingertips. «They. they were here. I know they were. And. they’re so proud of you, Caleb. Like I am.»

His gaze is soft as he returns it to her face. «It’s funny. » he muses. «I am. I am finally proud of myself. For the first time in — in a long time.» He leans forward and catches her mouth in a sweet, unhurried kiss.

«You know,» Jester begins afterward, the taste of him lingering on her lips, «technically — I mean I know we didn’t sign anything, but like, legally, if we’re going by the religious courts — «

There’s a shriek from the other side of the room, followed by Nott’s shrill voice in both of their ears. BREAK IT UP, she screeches, they’re GETTING AWAY, THEY’VE GOT SWORDS.

«Scheisse,» mutters Caleb, stepping back and releasing Jester. His hands go for the spell pouch under his vest as Jester fishes her holy symbol out from up her sleeve.

«We’re coming, Nott!» she calls as the music stumbles to a halt. Beau comes running past from somewhere behind her, she can see Fjord summoning his falchion and leaping over the bar, and maybe a couple of the guests are starting to panic a little — maybe someone has fainted a little, and there’s definitely a crash of breaking glass upstairs, though god knows whether or not that has anything to do with the Duke and the magistrate.

Caleb grabs her around the waist and kisses her soundly. «Time to go.»

It wouldn’t really be a Mighty Nein wedding if it didn’t involve everything going to hell and at least one chase scene in wedding clothes, thinks Jester with a grin as she hikes up her dress above her ankles. They can have all the vows and rings and dances they want, but this is what makes it real.

She takes Caleb’s hand, and they run.

Notes:

Here is Jester’s wedding dress, for those of you who, like us, care about such things. And here is something else: the absolutely wonderful takeninstride drew fanart for this fic, look at it it’s so beautiful she’s a gift thank you so much we’re screaming.

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Take My Hand (Take my Whole Life Too)

Florian_Gray

Summary:

Markus and Nines are both in love with Connor who has no idea, and they try to win him over. Will anyone even succeed?

Notes:

Ok, so this is RK1K but also RK1700, this is not RK1900 (Markus/Nines/Connor)

The prompts: How about this? Rk1700: Nines sees Markus and Connor together and feels jealous?
Rk1700 and rk1000? Where Markus and nines are really into Connor but this one is really oblivious to it

Since they were so similar I decided to combine! Hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Markus

Chapter Text

Markus couldn’t help but watch Connor, he was gorgeous, smart, kind, funny, and even a little clumsy if he was too lost in thought. Not to be dramatic, but he was in love. He was pretty sure he fell in love when Connor first walked into Jericho with that silly stance and gate. He had no idea how to be deviant, and he was a bit shocked no one else noticed.

Still, he had managed to talk him into deviancy, one of the hardest things he had to do if he was being honest. Then they were running for their lives and Connor and he worked together in perfect harmony.

His heart broke when Connor suggested his suicide mission, but knew he had to let him go. Connor had to do this, not just for the revolution, but for himself. Markus could already see the amount of guilt that weighed on his shoulders.

He was so grateful that he came back, leading an army of androids no less. He was definitely in love then. The problem was, Connor was oblivious. He had absolutely no idea and at first, that was adorable, now it was driving Markus crazy.

He didn’t want to make the first move, he didn’t want Connor to feel obligated to say yes. So he was left pining and complaining about it to his friends.

«He’s just! Ugh! North, you know? I just want to hold him, do you think he’d let me?» He asked, imagining what that would feel like. Connor was always so stiff, especially when working. The few times he saw him truly relax was in stasis or when petting Sumo. God, he was just so adorable, and his smile was so lopsided and awkward.

«I’m going to murder you in your sleep,» North threatens, glaring at him. «Why don’t you just ask if you can cuddle or whatever? Not like he’d realize you like him. He didn’t realize it after the dates, he didn’t notice it after the candy thirium, he won’t realize it now.»

Hmm, that was most likely true. «North, you are a genius!» He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before running out.

He found Connor where he always did when he had free time, in the greenhouse. A KL900 had suggested it after meeting Connor and it was one of the best things to happen, in Markus’ opinion.

He could tell when Connor had been in the garden, his face always had a smudge of dirt, or his nails would be dirty. Markus had mentioned there were gardening gloves, but Connor had said he liked the feeling of doing it with his bare hands.

«And then Sumo shook! The soap and water got everywhere,» Connor laughed, sitting in front of some plants.

Markus watched, biting his lip. He was talking to plants, which he would have been a bit worried about if it was anyone else. «Are the plants saying anything back?» Markus asks. Connor’s head whips around and his smile brightens. Markus’ heart leaps at the sight, his own smile growing impossibly wider.

«Plants can’t talk, Markus,» Connor points out, patting the ground next to him. Markus takes the invitation instantly.

«So you’re just talking to them…» Markus asks, reaching out and looking over the plants. They are all growing exceptionally well, but he wouldn’t expect anything else.

Connor shrugs and swats Markus’ hand away when he pulls a little too hard on a leaf for his liking. «Humans believe talking to plants helps them grow. Experts believe this theory probably dates back to a book from 1848, in which German professor Gustav Fechner suggested plants might be capable of feeling human-like emotions. Despite many different scientific studies on this theory, there’s still no conclusive evidence that talking to plants helps them grow or, if it does, why it helps. Though there are plenty of interesting theories.»

«Oh?» He really couldn’t care less about plants, but Connor was passionate about it and he would never tell him to be quiet when so excited. Plus, he really liked listening to him talk.

«There is evidence from certain studies, however, to suggest that it’s a plausible theory that plants do respond positively to exposure to sounds. For example, some researchers have found evidence that plants respond to vibrations. Although some scientists believe plant responses to vibrations help them survive in windy environments, it’s plausible to think that sounds, which are forms of vibrations, could affect plants, too.

«Other researchers believe that talking to plants may stimulate growth because of the carbon dioxide produced when people exhale as they speak. Since plants take in carbon dioxide, some scientists believe carbon dioxide could explain the benefit that speaking to plants seems to provide. So for androids, if that is true then it won’t help.» Connor rambled, facing the plants.

Markus nodded, thinking it over. «That actually makes a lot of sense.» He reached out to the plant again only to get swatted away again. Honestly, he just wanted Connor to touch him again.

«It does, I was planning to run an experiment myself, as I can make it as controlled as possible, especially here. What do you think?» He finally glanced at Markus, his head tilted to the side.

«Yeah, I don’t see why not. If you need any help, let me know, ok?» He’d help however he could if it meant Connor would be this excited.

«Ah, thank you! Now, I know you didn’t come here just to talk about plant theory, what can I do to help?» If his posture wasn’t already perfect he would have sat up straighter, waiting for a command of any kind.

Well, it was now or never. «Can I hug you? I’ve just, I wanted a hug.» Hugging was a start, he didn’t want to push Connor too far too fast.

But apparently, Connor thought differently as he climbed into Markus’ lap and wrapped himself around him. «Of course, I’ll hug you as long as you’d like.»

Markus froze before wrapping his arms around Connor, pulling him closer. «Thank you, I really wanted this.» He buried his face in Connor’s shoulder, taking in slow breaths. This was so much more than he had expected but he was so glad it was happening.

«Connor, oh, I apologize for interrupting.»

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take my hand (take my whole life, too)

AlizarinDreams

Summary:

Wright was out of the country. Trucy’s trial was done. Somehow that led to Edgeworth hosting the after-trial dinner and having far too many conversations about his feelings.

Just a lot of found family fluff.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Naturally, because life is full of needless complications, celebrating Trucy’s acquittal had to wait on tiny details like getting her officially released from police custody. The bailiff drove her over to the detention center while Athena and Apollo followed behind in Ema’s car.

“I think you’re next, Apollo,” Athena murmured out of the blue.

“Well, you’re the only WAA member who hasn’t been on trial for murder at some point now. It just makes sense.”

Apollo stared out the window in horror. Athena was almost certainly right, given the way things generally seemed to go for the madcap crew of the Wright Anything Agency.

Ema snorted, “She’s not wrong.” Her demeanor had lightened significantly, now that she was free of having to provide testimony that could incriminate a friend. Athena wasn’t particularly inclined to credit Sahdmadhi, but his praise of the forensic investigator after the trial had taken a load off Ema’s shoulders.

Apollo nodded, “I know. It’s just a matter of time.”

Athena leaned forward to hook her chin on the back of Apollo’s seat. “It’s okay, Polly, I’ll defend you.”

“Nah, all three of us should do it. Imagine how mad we could drive the Prosecution.”

Athena sat back with a pout. “No fair, I didn’t get a chance to defend myself.”

Ema shook her head to herself as she pulled into the detention center’s parking lot.

“If you want to have a go at it, I’m sure we could talk someone from the prosecutor’s office into re-trying the case. The Paynes, probably. They never know when they’re going to lose a case, so they’d still give it their all.”

“Shots fired by the evil chili pepper,” Athena laughed.

Apollo rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, kiddos, let’s go rescue Trucy,” Ema chided them as she killed the engine.

Rescuing Trucy also proved to have more complications than they’d initially considered. It turned out that, because she was a minor, they couldn’t just release her into the wild, as it were, but needed the signature of a parent or guardian.

“Can’t you make an exception?” Athena pleaded. “We’re the attorneys who won her case. And her coworkers. And this is the forensic investigator in charge of the case. We’re totally responsible.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the officer on duty said. “Has to be a parent or guardian.”

“Ma’am?!” Athena spluttered.

“Er, excuse me, officer,” Apollo cut in, “the thing is – her father’s in Khura’in. He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest. Surely you don’t wanna keep her in custody that long.”

The officer blinked. “We’ve called her father. He said he’s on his way.”

“Sure, but that’s still hours of transpacific flying.”

“He said he’d be here in ten minutes. Five minutes ago. Consider who the father is – of course we called him immediately.”

Apollo stared at Ema. Ema stared at Athena. Athena stared at Apollo. They shrugged.

“Er, okay then. Thank you. I guess?”

They took seats in the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area.

“Any idea what that was about?” Apollo asked.

“Nope,” Athena said, popping the P. “Give it ten minutes and if nothing happens, go ask again?”

Ema and Apollo shrugged back at her.

There wasn’t much to do but wait. The magazines were all months out of date and primarily aimed at uniquely niche markets. Athena wouldn’t have guessed that the intersection of accountants and line dancers was large enough to warrant its own magazine, but she would have been wrong.

“Sahdmadhi sure is a character, right?” she said at last, thinking over the events of the day’s trial.

Ema grunted and stared off to the side. Apollo fidgeted.

“Hey, how come you didn’t tell us you had an Edgeworth?” Ema asked him, elbowing his ribs.

“A prosecutor you have some connection to that you’re super cagey about,” Ema clarified, like that explained anything.

“That’s – I don’t –“ Apollo spluttered.

“Oh my god, you summoned him!” Athena whispered.

“Nahyuta?” Apollo asked, whipping his head around.

“No, the Chief Prosecutor. What is he doing here at this time of night?”

What Edgeworth was doing there was evidently striding confidently up to the desk and not sparing a glance for his surroundings or the colorful trio staring at him from the corner. The officer on duty snapped to attention and passed him a clipboard he’d had ready. After a few moments flicking through the attached paperwork and scratching at it occasionally with a pen Edgeworth passed it back to the officer, who nodded and moved to the back area.

“I know he’s the boss’ friend and all, but I always feel like he’s about to yell at me for not having ironed my tie or something,” Athena muttered.

Apollo muffled a laugh into his palm.

“Please, he’s just a weirdly formal teddy bear when you get to know him,” Ema scoffed.

“I dare you to say that to his face,” Athena shot back.

“Uncle Miles!” a joyful voice called. Trucy, led by the returning desk officer, launched herself at the Chief Prosecutor of LA County. Edgeworth, to Athena’s shock, did not spontaneously combust from this moment of affectionate human contact.

“Weirdly formal teddy bear,” Ema repeated as Edgeworth did the normal human action of hugging Trucy back.

“Mon dieu, I feel like I just saw the birth of a unicorn.”

Ema snorted out a laugh just as the pair at the other end of the room turned to start making their way to the exit.

“Polly! Thena! You came!” Trucy sprinted over. “You guys were awesome in court today!” she enthused as she choked them both in a simultaneous hug that was mostly elbows.

“Well, we had an awesome client,” said Apollo, patting her on the back. He’d almost stopped blushing from Mr. Wright’s earlier praise and could not handle more.

“Ema!” She, too, got a bear hug.

Ema patted her back with a nervous look on her face. “Er, no hard feelings, right?”

Trucy pulled back. “You testified about the facts. What’s there to be mad about?”

Ema smiled and looked lighter.

A politely cleared throat caught their attention. “Mr. Justice, Ms. Cykes, excellent work today,” Edgeworth said with a mild nod.

“Th – thank you, Prosecutor Edgeworth,” Apollo stuttered out.

“Nothing to say to me? Rude,” Ema teased.

“Excellent work running rampant with your fingerprinting powder, Ms. Skye,” Edgeworth said, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.

“I’m glad to see your new authority has absolutely gone to your head, Ema.”

“Too right it has,” she beamed and adjusted the sunglasses on her head.

“Uncle Miles, can I have a mountain of Thai food and that Steel Samurai versus Mothra movie you pretend to hate even though you own it on blu-ray?” Trucy attached herself to Edgeworth’s arm and smiled guilelessly up at him. “I am very traumatized. Only noodles and terrible special effects can soothe my soul.”

If Athena didn’t know better, she’d say the Chief Prosecutor of Los Angeles County was trying not to smile. “Yes, you may.” He turned toward the door then paused. With all the enthusiasm of a man climbing up to the gallows he turned around to face the group. “Er, would you all care to join us for dinner?”

They stared at him, as flummoxed as if he’d busted out a Khura’inese sutra.

He tilted his head toward Trucy, “That’s correct, right?”

“Yes, Uncle Miles, inviting friends to dinner is correct.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the trio, eyebrows raised.

“We’d love to!” Ema replied, having regained the powers of speech first.

Edgeworth nodded, a look of relief scurrying across his face. “I will text you the address.”

Athena was distracted from the various assenting comments by her phone buzzing aggressively in her hand. Hopefully it was Junie sending her a meme or something. She couldn’t handle much more than that at the moment.

It was not Junie.

She rolled her eyes, “Ugh, Apollo, Gavin wants me to tell you to check your phone and I want to tell both of you that I am not your – Oh, he just wants to know about Trucy.”

“Eight missed messages!” Apollo exclaimed, once he’d pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Athena glanced over at his screen. The message preview on the lockscreen was just “FOREHEAD!!”

“You guys are cute,” she teased.

“Privacy, Athena!” Apollo squawked back.

“Prosecutor McHeartthrob?” Ema asked, shamelessly reading Athena’s texts.

Ema just smirked back.

“Prosecutor Gavin is of course welcome as well,” Edgeworth said, ignoring their antics with the ease of a man who’d had a lot of practice.

“Great!” Athena smiled wider at Apollo’s exasperated sigh. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

Edgeworth nodded curtly. “Excellent, we’ll see you all there.”

“This is so weird,” Athena mused for the tenth time, as Ema navigated deftly through LA traffic.

“We’ve had post-trial meals with him before,” Apollo countered.

“Not without Mr. Wright!” Athena rebutted. Not to say that Edgeworth didn’t talk to the rest of them at their post-trial celebratory (or conciliatory) meals. But Mr. Wright was still very much a buffer. And Edgeworth mostly ended up talking about obscure legal precedents with Apollo. The point being, sure, he was a frequent figure in her life, but he was also one of the preeminent legal figures in the city and a total cabrón in court.

“This doesn’t look like – “ Ema stopped, double checking the address in her inbox with the one on her phone’s navigation app and the one on the street. “Oh. We’re eating dinner at his house. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” She drove forward a couple houses until she found an available spot along the curb and started to maneuver into it.

“His Windsor Square townhouse, sure.” Apollo added, sounding a bit shrill. He took a deep breath. “I’m Apollo Justice and I’m fine!”

Ema jerked in her seat and stared at him.

“I’m Athena Cykes and I’m fine!”

“I’m – I’m Ema Skye and I’m fine? Also, a little confused.”

“You have to say it with more conviction. Like you’re bluffing about a contradiction you don’t have evidence for yet,” Apollo coached.

“That is not scientific. I’m Ema Skye and I’m fine! … Oh, I do feel a bit better.”

“See? Alright, let’s do this!”

They got out of the car and moved up the neat flagstone steps. Athena punched the doorbell with more confidence than she felt. At once there was the sound of eager barks and footsteps.

Dog! exclaimed Widget as its owner bounced on the balls of her feet.

The door swung open to reveal a broadly smiling Trucy and a broadly barking dog that looked a bit like someone had stretched it vertically in photoshop. “Pess! Sei ruhig! Hey! You made it, find parking okay? Pess, nein. Calm down, you silly thing. Sorry, she hates the bell.”

“Oh hello, perfect angel!” Athena and Apollo knelt in near perfect unison and only narrowly avoided banging their heads together as they went to greet the dog. Pess took a couple steps back and whuff ed at them uncertainly.

“She’s friendly, just a bit shy,” Trucy explained, stroking Pess’ silky side.

“Same, girl,” Ema muttered from behind the other two.

Somehow shoes were removed and bodies were settled and noodles were ordered. Athena mostly tried not to stare around her too much. Except who she was kidding, she’d kill for an hour alone in Edgeworth’s study. Seeing how that brain worked… Which was the story of how Athena wound up in Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth’s kitchen, trying not to skate in her socked feet on the polished tile, and vaguely wondering when she’d so totally lost control of her life.

“Er, you have a lovely home,” she managed, floundering for what else to say.

Athena guessed he’d reached a point of emotionally drained whereat bits of his inner monologue slipped out of his mouth. Come to think of it, he’d done it a bit at the detention center as well. “I’m sure this will be fine.”

Edgeworth threw her another slightly surprised look and blushed faintly. “It’s been a long day. Hm, this should pair nicely,” he murmured to a bottle of wine he’d pulled out. “Hardly traditional, but needs must.”

He moved to a glass-fronted cabinet and started pulling out wine glasses. Right! That was why she was here. As the last person to claim a seat she’d been conscripted into helping to carry glasses.

“Getting the call that Trucy needed to be picked up must have been jarring,” she prompted because hey, getting people to talk about feelings was her thing and the silence was… very silent.

She flushed warmly at the sentiment. “Mr. Wright’s an odd one, but he does usually figure it out by the end.”

Edgeworth huffed out a quiet laugh. “And he chose his apprentices well. Not many attorneys could have pulled off what you and Mr. Justice did today.”

“I – it’s kind of you to say so.”

“I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He stared at the three wine glasses he’d pulled out and paused. “Do you drink wine? How old are you?” He studied her seriously, as if she were newly revealed evidence in court.

He pursed his lips at this flagrant flouting of the law, but took out a fourth glass nonetheless.

Score! Widget cheered. She really needed to run that ‘stfu’ update.

Edgeworth choked on what was probably a laugh and passed her two glasses, filled with what was surely an even five ounce (or 150mL, for his European sensibilities) pour. “Do try not to report me to the authorities.”

She nodded sharply. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

They paused in the doorway to the dining room. Apollo and Trucy had been setting the table, but now Apollo had his arms wrapped tight around Trucy’s shoulders. Her shoulders were shaking.

“-he hated my family that much that he tried to-“ she cut herself off.

Edgeworth and Athena slid back into the kitchen. He cleared his throat in the awkward silence then took a larger than polite sip of wine.

“Er, how are you doing with… things?”

She blinked at him. Oh right, the last proper conversation they’d had had been after the resolution of the Phantom case, finding Simon innocent, and digging up the whole gruesome truth of the UR-1 incident. She’d never gotten confirmation, but she would bet at least a month of her tiny, tiny salary that Mr. Wright had prodded Edgeworth into talking to her afterwards. The similarities between the DL-6 incident, infamous in the legal world, and her own situation had been… a lot.

“Oh, you know, keeping my therapist in sensible loafers. You?”

His mouth twisted, “Mm, much the same.”

She nodded and took a quick peak around the corner. Apollo and Trucy had moved on. “Shall we?” she asked, gesturing with an arm towards the doorway.

In the living room, Athena passed off her extra glass to Apollo, who was settled on the loveseat next to Trucy and Pess. Trucy was drinking tea out of a mug that looked like it was a souvenir from an old Max Galactica show in Vegas. Pess was not drinking anything and looked very put upon. She wriggled deeper into the couch and sighed, resting her chin across Trucy’s leg.

Athena blinked at Trucy. “When did you have time to go pick up extra clothes from your place?”

Trucy had traded out her signature dress and cape for a cozy looking set of blue flannel pajamas. She looked up from combing her fingers through Pess’ fur. “Hm? Oh, I have a room here.”

“Oh.” Athena blinked again. “Sure.”

Edgeworth had to admit, this whole thing was going surprisingly well. The immediate regret he’d felt upon inviting the WAA to join Trucy and himself for dinner had been… a yawning chasm, into which he would have loved to throw himself. But this was… nice; people around whom he felt varying degrees of comfortable eating delicious food in his dining room and discussing Steel Samurai movies over the years. (Everyone agreed the ’97 was the worst, so he didn’t have to kick anyone out.) He could handle this.

Apollo paused mid-diatribe, “Wait, Mr. Edgeworth, how were you able to sign out Trucy? The officer seemed pretty set on that ‘parent or guardian’ thing.”

“Ah,” Edgeworth paused, chopsticks poised over his noodles, “I am her guardian.”

“I thought Mr. Wright…” Athena trailed off.

“Technically Uncle Miles is Papa.”

“Ah,” Edgeworth glanced briefly at Apollo’s bracelet, took a sip of water. “Wright and I have been legally married for… quite sometime now.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you too were – although that does explain – “

“It’s a practical arrangement, noth-“ he glanced at the bracelet again and stopped. “It’s easier for couples to adopt. Also, Wright was recently disbarred and jobless, as he had not yet discovered… poker hustling.”

“Don’t forget the health insurance!” Trucy chipped in. “I needed braces. And Daddy is very accident prone.”

“And running-across-burning-bridges prone,” Edgeworth murmured, with the thousand-yard stare of a man legally bound to someone who should have died at least a dozen times over by now.

“He did just narrowly escape a beheading in Khura’in,” Athena nodded.

Edgeworth set his chopsticks down very deliberately. “I’m sorry, please repeat that.”

Athena and Apollo exchanged nervous glances. “Well, we don’t actually know if it was going to be a beheading. They’ve got that law about defense attorneys being executed with their clients if they lose the trial and well,” Apollo shrugged uncomfortably.

“And Nick managed to get himself involved in a life-or-death legal situation, because of course he did,” Gavin finished.

Edgeworth put his head in his hands and groaned. “I’m going to kill him.”

Gavin and Wright’s friendship might honestly be worse to think about than Wright’s many brushes with death. He’d asked Trucy about it once, discreetly, and the answer apparently boiled down to Gavin showing up with an apology bottle of wine one evening around the time of Wright retaking the bar. The WAA crew came in the next morning to find Gavin passed out on the couch with Wright’s tie around his forehead and Wright himself sprawled on the floor. “Trauma-bonded” Trucy had called it. Whatever had happened, Gavin was now one of the handful of people to call Wright Nick. He could include the story in his eulogy at Wright’s funeral when Edgeworth killed him.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” Gavin asked, unfazed by neither his boss threatening to commit murder nor the level 10 spice pad prik pao he was eating.

“No, because I will have had the satisfaction of having done it myself.”

There wasn’t much that could be said to that.

“How much bullying did it take for him to accept your help?” Ema asked, shifting the topic.

“I think you bullied each other,” Trucy tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I remember because that was before I realized that bickering is your love language.”

His dignity was done for.

He cleared the plates to the kitchen after dinner. Ema had tried, but he’d taken over. He could use a second to himself.

Gavin joined him in the kitchen, a stack of plates in hand. He passed them off to Edgeworth without a word then stayed, hip cocked against the counter.

“Something on your mind, Gavin?” Edgeworth asked. If he was going to be ambushed in his kitchen with another emotional conversation, he may as well face it head on.

“How did –“ he stopped, looking more grim than Edgeworth was used to seeing him outside of mortuaries. He started again in German, eyes on the hall to the living room where everyone else was laughing happily over something. “How did my brother not know?” That explained the German. Kristoph Gavin was a grim shadow in any conversation, better left unnamed and spoken of in guarded code. “About you and Nick, I mean.”

“He did, ” Edgeworth responded. “We – Wright told him it was a spur-of-the-moment result of a drunken fling.”

Gavin stared at him, mercifully not mentioning how obvious it was that Edgeworth hated the lie they’d agreed on.

“He said we didn’t file for an annulment because we didn’t want to draw attention to our… indiscretion,” he continued placidly, drying his hands on the soft grey dishtowel. When he looked up at Gavin’s face he was relieved to not see something as awful as pity.

Edgeworth huffed a laugh. “Of all the many things I’ve heard people call him over the years, that is a new one.”

Edgeworth had read their dossiers, of course. He knew they were born in Vienna and their parents died young (some accident in the Alps). Kristoph, ten years older, had stayed with his brother until he was about twenty, at which point he’d fucked off permanently to the States, leaving Klavier to the care of a chain of nannies. None of them stayed long. Klavier Gavin as a child could be politely described as “mercurial.”

Sometimes Edgeworth wondered if he knew anyone with a normal, healthy relationship to their parents. Or at least anyone who’d known their parents into adulthood. Gumshoe, maybe. Hopefully. If not him, then Franziska had at least known one of her parents for far longer than the rest of them, and if she was the shining example…

Edgeworth shrugged. Any input of his about emotional intelligence would mostly be parroting one of his therapists from over the years.

“No offense to your acting skills,” Klavier continued, “but I doubt anyone could be in a room with the two of you for five minutes and not know you care about each other. Even my monster of a brother. ”

“No offense to your brother, but I tried not to get within fifty feet of him. ” It wasn’t that he couldn’t keep a neutral face – his preteen to early adult years had been in a masterclass in that – he just couldn’t stand the way Kristoph would watch Phoenix. Hungry. Waiting.

Klavier laughed humorlessly. “I’d say he has a bit of a Backpfeifengesicht, but I wouldn’t want to insult my own Gesicht.» Klavier gestured towards his face, so like his brother’s.

“You don’t look that much alike; you’re much less punchable.”

(He’d asked Trucy once how she could warm so quickly to the younger Gavin, when he looked so much like the elder. Trucy had stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Or worn tie-dye to work. “They don’t look at all alike.”

“You’re too kind,” Klavier laughed. “Er, if I may ask an unprofessional question…” He began, back in English.

Edgeworth topped off both their wine glasses. “We’re a bit past that, don’t you think?”

“Why do you think that you and Wright aren’t together?”

Edgeworth blinked at him. “Sorry, what?”

“You kept saying that your marriage was just for practicalities, but you’re probably the most married people I know.”

“Wir ficken nicht” burned on the tip of his tongue. He hated this whole line of questioning, wanted to snap a vulgarity to shock Klavier into dropping it.

Klavier must’ve read it on his face. “Is that what makes a relationship?”

Klavier tipped his glass as if to highlight his point. “Just something to think about,” he murmured and with that he walked into the living room.

The idea stayed with him throughout the movie. It wasn’t that he wanted to be married to Wright, he didn’t want to get married at all, but he did want –

He glanced around the room. On screen, the Steel Samurai and Mothra were realizing that they had more in common than they’d first thought and bottomless corporate greed was the true enemy. On the couch, the WAA attorneys had closed ranks around Trucy, sitting close by her sides and leaning in like emotionally supportive bookends. Klavier was seated on the ground, long legs outstretched, back against Trucy’s knees, and one hand quietly and unobtrusively wrapped around Apollo’s ankle. Ema and Pess were stationed as side-guards over on the loveseat. Ema had Pess lulled near to sleep, stroking that spot behind her ear she liked.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

There were a few obvious absences from the room. He’d need a second couch to fit them all. If he and Wright ever moved in together as they occasionally threatened to (‘ I sing in the shower. Off-key.’ ‘I will organize your closet whether you like it or not, so help me god.’) they should get a place with a bigger living room. Nothing so gauche as an in-home theatre, but… a bit more seating couldn’t hurt.

The movie came to its inevitable and emotionally saccharine conclusion. Edgeworth’s eyes did not sting because he had seen it a dozen times before and it was overwrought anyway.

Trucy yawned, face buried in Athena’s hair.

“You should go to bed.”

“It’s barely eleven,” she protested, rubbing at an eye.

“It’s a school night,” he rebutted easily.

That made her sit upright. “You’re making me go to school tomorrow?!”

“No, I’m not making you. But putting it off won’t make it easier.”

She sighed theatrically. “Fun Dad had to go on vacation and leave me alone with Logic Dad.” She got to her feet. “Night, guys.” She could barely get the words out around another massive yawn.

There was a lot of hugging and Trucy went up to bed and Edgeworth started subtly herding his guests towards the door.

“Er, we talked about in the car,” he began as Ema reached for the doorknob, “and Trucy is going to stay here until Wright gets back. My home is Trucy’s home and therefore open to you all. Anytime.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth,” Justice said at last.

Gavin squeezed his shoulder on his way out – he must look a fright. Ah well, it was done. The last few dishes could wait until morning, so Edgeworth headed upstairs, shaking his head to himself. His younger self would not recognize this man he’d become. That was fine by him.

Wright’s chuckle low in his ear was shockingly intimate every time. It sounded like he was in the room, laughing into Edgeworth’s ear and close enough to touch. “Can’t you answer the phone like a normal person? It’s after eleven where you are.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you, Wright.” He put his phone on speaker and resumed buttoning his pajama top.

“I hear you narrowly dodged hosting a WAA sleepover.”

“It’s no Khura’inese DC Act execution, but I guess we’ve both had near misses recently.”

He could hear the sharp inhale over the phone and picture the wince that went with it. “You heard about that, then?”

“I heard about that,” he confirmed dryly.

“On a scale of one to burning bridge, where’s this?”

Edgeworth sighed and laid back on the bed. (With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend Phoenix was here with him.) “For the last time, I’m not ranking your near-death experiences. I know you, and you will only try to beat your own record.” (Stupid, obviously, because if he had Phoenix in his bed his eyes would be open.)

Wright laughed, “Yeah, you do know me.” He sounded unbearably fond.

“Mr. Justice said you’re keeping to your original trip schedule,” Miles prompted, wanting the confirmation for himself.

“Yeah, I checked in with Trucy earlier; she said she’s doing okay.”

Edgeworth felt a dull pulse of anger. “Can you imagine a situation in which she would not say that?”

“Well, no,” Wright admitted reluctantly.

“She could use her family with her right now.”

“Are you saying you’re not her family?” Edgeworth knew that tone. It was the tone Wright used when he managed to flip things around and pin Edgeworth in the corner. “You know she thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

“Nngak,” Edgeworth replied articulately.

“And Apollo, Athena, Klavier, and Ema, besides.”

And finally the coup de grâce. “They’re your family, too, you know.”

Edgeworth shut his eyes and let out a contemptuous ‘hmph’. It was the best he could do at the moment. “Oh,” he opened his eyes, remembering something important, and an excellent way to change the subject. “Your subordinates know that we’re – about our espousal. They figured something was up when I signed Trucy out of detention.” Better that he tell him than he get some all-caps text from Justice.

There was a moment of silence. “How’d they take it? Any hilarious reactions?”

“Ah well, suppose I didn’t miss much, then.”

The main reason for keeping the marriage secret had been Kristoph. With him out of the picture they could –

The main reason for getting married in the first place was Trucy’s adoption, and that wasn’t a current issue either.

“Did you want to get divorced?” Edgeworth asked, proud of himself for sounding as calm as if he were asking how Phoenix took his tea. (Two sugars, the heathen.)

“It occurred to me the main reason for the marriage is long passed. There’s not much reason to keep up the sham.”

“The sham. Right.” Phoenix sounded… upset. Edgeworth shouldn’t push it, he really shouldn’t.

“I’m happy to pay child support, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Wright made a noise like an angry teakettle.

Edgeworth didn’t want to be married, but he wanted – He wanted so much. “You’re right, my health insurance is still miles better. No divorce.”

“Did you just – make a double name pun after trying to divorce me?”

“Maybe,” he smirked.

“You are such an asshole. I love you so much.”

This, too, shocked him every time, how easily Wright was able to say those words. “How’s Khura’in?”

“Exciting,” Phoenix laughed, “You could have come with me, you know. I meant it when I invited you.”

“Some of us can’t leave our jobs for that long.” Edgeworth opened his eyes; his room was so empty.

Phoenix hummed, “It’s true. The entire Los Angeles legal system would fall apart without you there to supervise for two whole weeks.”

“Very funny.” Edgeworth tracked the slow movement of the ceiling fan.

“Who said I was joking? At least half your prosecutors are convinced you aren’t even human.”

“I’m very human.” It was sort of the problem.

“Sound more enthusiastic, I dare you.”

“Get dinner with me.”

Wright inhaled sharply, “I think it might be a bit difficult with the distance.”

“Ok.” The Wright that stared back at him from his phone had that look on his face right before he broke into a smile brighter than the sun.

“As a date,” Edgeworth added, just to be clear. He wasn’t sure what the difference would be between a date and their normal dinners. Even more yearning stares? Probably some touching. (God, Miles wanted to touch.) He hadn’t dated much (ever), preferring the reduced commitment of Lebensabschnittpartner and their pre-agreed upon expiration dates. He was pretty sure hand-holding was involved in real dating.

“Yes, I got that.” Wright was definitely trying not to laugh at him.

“I love you, too.” It came out in a bit of a rush, but the words were out there in the world, said. Out loud. By him. It felt like a huge accomplishment. It felt easy as breathing.

Edgeworth cleared his throat, blinked his eyes clear. “You should know that I don’t accept death as an excuse for standing me up, so do try to make it back alive.”

Wright laughed, “I’ll do my best. It’s getting late there, I really should let you go.”

“Hm. I do miss you, you know. The – the whole family does.”

“Mi- I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Meet me at the airport?”

“Obviously. I mean, if you want me to.” Edgeworth coughed, trying to play it cool.

“Then I’ll see you there.”

“Good. Good night, Miles.”

“Good night, Phoenix.”

Reuniting and going out for dinner also had unforeseen complications, but they managed eventually.

Notes:

I have a lot of feelings about these dumb nerds.

(but seriously, who let recently disgraced, unemployed Phoenix have care of a 9yr old child. )

I tried to give them all context clues, but here are proper definitions.

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take my hand (take my whole life too)

herocomplex

Summary:

“We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? And you said, Kiss me.” Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain.

«What are you doing?» Adora asked, with laugh.

«Talking to you through the door of the bathroom.»

—
kind of spoilery for season 5

Notes:

Basically, She-ra owns my entire gay ass.

I’ve never really written fic before? But I read a lot of it and I love ya’ll. Wasn’t sure how to rate this either, so rating is mostly to be safe. Nothing sexy happens (sorry).

Cheers to you Noelle, you mad bastard, you really did it.

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After two, nearly three, days of travel and patching each other up, after they finally made it back to Brightmoon with everyone. After everything was said and done. All Adora wanted was a real bath and a real bed.

Adora might have forgotten how luxurious everything in Brightmoon really was. The bathroom just off her room had heated marble floors, and fancy mosaics on the ceiling that looked like the phases of the moon, and a huge gold bathtub where the water never got cold, and soap that smelled like lavender and rosemary. After ancient spaceships, and camping, and fighting for her life, it was genuinely amazing.

Adora sighed and sunk further into the golden bathtub full of warm lavender bubbles. Her hair pooled around her in the water. She was clean and now she could stay there for as long as she wanted. She could feel all the aches leaching out of her muscles. It felt good. It felt good to finally be safe. It felt good to know that everyone she cared about was only a few rooms away and she could see them as soon as she was done.

Adora smiled to herself just above the water line, or sooner.

“I’m in the bath,” she called back, tipping her head back against the lip of the tub.

“Oh, uh, okay,” followed by the thump of someone sitting against the bathroom door. A second thump told Adora that Melog was there too.

Adora could not fight the smile from her voice when she said, “What are you doing?”

“Talking to you through the door,” Catra replied with an implicit ‘duh’, “Um, Sparkles gave me my own room but I’d rather—I mean, if I could I—”

“Catra, do you want to have a sleepover tonight?”

“Yes,” Catra breathed, then quickly, “I mean— I guess, if you insist.”

Adora huffed a laugh.Then with her heart pounding she said, “Why don’t you come in?”

“Because it’s nice in here. C’mon Catra, the waters warm…,” she sang. She wondered if Catra was blushing too.

“I already took a bath,” Catra insisted. But the door knob still turned and she still stepped into the room and quickly shut Melog and the cold out. Catra was blushing too, Adora noticed. Her hair was extra soft and curly from her own shower and she was wearing a thick white terry cloth bathrobe. Her tail was at maximum fluff and she wouldn’t look at Adora. Adora would of thought it funny, if she was not just as nervous.

By Adora’s estimate, Catra was wearing nothing underneath the big terry cloth bathrobe. Which made Adora’s heart pound thicker and heavier in her chest.But she pushed past it. Adora had always been the braver of the two.

“C’mon Catra, you’ve seen me before.”

“Not recently,” Catra mumbled, blushing even worse.

“We’ve even taken baths together before.”

Which was kind of the point. When she did look, Adora was sitting up a little more, arms on either side of the gold tub like she was sitting at the command console of the ship. Catra could see her chest and how Adora’s own flush inched past her collarbones. How all her freckles were in the same places they had always been. And Catra had to look away again. Her hands were trembling and her heart felt sloppy and uncoordinated in her chest. Part of Catra wanted to run from this (before she ruined it) but she had decided she was done running from Adora a while ago. Which really only left Catra with one direction to go in.

“Catra, it’s just me,” Adora said, equal parts terrified and happy.

Catra looked at Adora again at that, making sure to catch only her eyes, “Adora, there’s never been anything ‘just’ about you.”

“Get over here,” she responded with a huff and a hand extended over the lip of the tub.

Catra went. Catra threw her bathrobe in the direction of Adora’s discarded clothes. Adora sat up a little more in an unnecessary attempt to make more room in the bath. Catra sunk down into the water between Adora’s knees with a splash that caused a gratuitous amount of water to spill over the sides of the tub. But Adora’s arms were around her immediately and Adora was giggling into the back of her neck and the water was still nice and warm. So Catra went willingly. Sinking into the water and Adora’s chest in equal measure. Adora was broader than Catra, always had been, but it felt new and more obvious in that moment. Adora’s hands skated across Catra’s belly, up and down her ribs, down to her hips and back up to lock around her middle. Catra shivered back further into Adora’s chest and did not bother to suppress the thick, low purr that bubbled up her throat.

“Purring? During a bath? This is a first,” Adora teased, her voice rumbling through Catra’s spine.

“Well, you were right. It is nice in here.”

“I’m always right,” Adora said, and Catra could feel the smug curve of her mouth pressed into her bare shoulder.

“Not sure I’d go that far,” Catra responded dryly.

Adora’s laugh landed against the back of her shoulder too. Catra tipped her head back against Adora’s shoulder and Adora held her just a little tighter, tucking her face into the crook of Catra’s neck. Catra tangled her fingers over Adora’s on her belly and curled her tail around Adora’s ankle. And Catra let herself surrender. Surrendering felt so good, so much better than winning ever had, that Catra wondered if it was because surrendering to Adora was a little bit like still winning.

Adora went so quiet behind her, with deep even breathing, and arms growing heavy across Catra’s belly, that Catra thought she must have been dozing if not outright asleep. It was so warm and nice, and Catra liked the fact that they would both smell the same when they finally did get out. There was nothing to worry about here. No fight to try to win. Not anymore. This warm bathroom in Brightmoon, this gold tub with her best friend, was a bubble of perfect peace. Catra started to doze too.

So it was a surprise when, after a long stretch of comfortable silence, Adora said, “You asked me what I wanted.”

“That night, before everything, you asked me what I wanted.”

Catra shifted in her arms, waking up, and Adora stuck to her like a squid and pushed her fingers into the ticklish spot of her ribs on purpose. Catra squeaked out a giggle and tried to get Adora back with her elbow but only hit the side of the tub. And Adora was grinning against her throat so Catra couldn’t be too mad.

“I wanted this,” Adora sighed, still smiling, “I wanted you.”

Catra went very still, her heart seizing tight and her hands going numb. She leaned further back so she could look at Adora and Adora obliged, looking back with eyes that were full, full, full.

“Oh,” Catra breathed, still a little in awe at how love looked on Adora (how love directed at her looked on Adora), “Well. Lucky for you my new gig is giving Princess Adora everything she wants.”

Adora didn’t say anything, just grinned down at her, pressed a long kiss against Catra’s temple and a second one to the corner of her mouth.

“So, what else do you want, Princess?”

Adora shifted them back a bit into their previous position, pressing another kiss to the base of Catra’s neck.

“What else?” Adora asked breathless, like the thought had never crossed her mind. She went quiet as she thought about it, and said “I want sleepovers every night for the rest of our lives.”

“Okay,” Catra agreed easily, breathlessly, chest going tighter still.

“I want all our baths to be like this.”

“Yes,” Adora said, very seriously.

“That’s going to get inefficient very quickly,” Catra grumbled, but didn’t say no.

“I want to go dancing with you—for real this time. I want to spar with you in the garden.”

“No magic swords.”

“No magic swords,” Adora agreed readily, “I want us to eat together— the food here is so good— but I don’t think we should cook together because that seems dangerous.”

“I want to introduce you to everyone—really introduce you and show you all around Etheria and I want to take you to the beach and—and I don’t know, I want everything.”

“Okay, you can have it. All of it. It’s yours, Princess” Catra whispered. She tipped her head back to just look at Adora for a long minute, then, “Just out of curiosity is there anything you want that isn’t related to me?”

Adora’s brow furrowed and she spent a long minute thinking about it, before she said, “Maybe a new sword? A new sword would be cool. Not a magical one this time.”

Catra laughed at that—really laughed, rusty and deep.

“We should get out of here, you’re already all wrinkly,” She spun around in Adora’s arms and showed Adora her own pruny hands. Adora wrinkled her nose in disgust but smiled when Catra kissed the back of her hands.

[They played rock paper scissors to see who had to get out first and figure out where the towels were hidden. Catra lost, and grumbled—what she felt to be— a reasonable amount. But it was worth it when she got to bundle Adora in a big fluffy towel, and dry her hair for her, and kiss her, and kiss her, and keep kissing her.]

It was later in bed, facing one another and sharing a pillow, when Adora asked “What about you, Catra? What do you want?”

“Why do you keep making me talk about my feelings when I’m trying to sleep?”

“I have to keep you on your toes somehow,” Adora said with a shrug and a grin.

A cool night breeze, damp and sweet, twisted past the curtains into the room. Catra could hear crickets and the movement of the trees and Adora breathing into the space between them. The room was dark but Adora was still looking at her when Catra opened her eyes to look back. They both smelled like lavender and rosemary and clean sheets. Adora reached out to cradle her jaw and skim her thumb across Catra’s cheek. Catra would go back and change everything if it meant she could get here sooner. Catra took a deep, shaky breath in.

“I want to keep apologizing,” she said, “I want to get better—to keep getting better— to be better.”

Catra hated her night vision in that moment because it meant she had to see how Adora was positively glowing with pride and affection at those words. It was so bright and vulnerable that Catra had to look away.

“I want sleepovers every night. For the rest of our lives,” she admitted, looking at the sliver of mattress between them, “And I want every day with you too. I don’t actually care what we do, as long as. I get to do it with you.”

Catra’s throat was tight and her chest was tight and she was terrified to look back up at Adora. She knew that whatever she found there was going to be more than what she deserved. Adora tipped Catra’s head up anyway, with gentle fingers along her jaw. Adora was crying, when Catra looked, which was awful because it meant Catra started crying a little bit too. Adora pulled Catra closer and under her until Catra was boxed in by elbows, blonde lavender-scented hair, and shining grey-blue eyes.

“That sounds great,” Adora said, voice thick and choked, “Let’s do it.”

Catra tugged her down to kiss her. Adora went willingly and returned every kiss twice fold until they were both breathless and grinning.

Adora took her weight off her elbows and plunked it all down on Catra’s chest. Catra let out a little wheeze, feeling pleasantly crushed. Her arms around Adora’s shoulders squeezed her even closer.

Adora propped her chin on Catra’s chest looking starry eyed and wild, “Nope! Too excited to sleep now.”

Catra let her head thump against the pillow and groaned at the ceiling.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Adora asked, looking a bit like when Bow introduced her to coffee for the first time.

“Hopefully sleep in, at this rate,” Catra remarked dryly.

“What about the day after?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I didn’t care and it was very romantic?”

“Something romantic, got it,” Adora grinned insufferably and squirmed up to settle against the hollow of Catra’s throat. That was where Adora fell asleep—eventually. That was also where she woke up, the next bright and shining morning and the next and the next.]

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