#and maybe he’s not affected by light and dark- but hot and cold

[skittlewaffle]

Meet Parhelion (aka Parry)! He’s a ceiling fan /j

I guess this one’s shell was repurposed to make better use of the wire during the day time ?? Though, he’s pretty resistant to the dark. He’s based on that celestial event where you see a halo with an extra ball of light on each side (known as a sun dog, a mock sun, or a parhelion), and on those hanging mobile rattles you put on a baby crib :)

Please click for better quality *sobs*

He has two little buddies, who are mute btw, and don’t share inner thoughts or feelings (they aren’t connected like Sun and Moon may be). They’re mostly there for Parry to hand over to children who may need them, and to do minor repairs should he get damaged. They are sentient, but it’s harder to tell.

Sometimes, kids like to tie little presents onto their dangly crystals, or put friendship bracelets on their wrists. Parry treasures all of them <:)

Honestly, Parhelion might be great for cats

He has a built in music box

[ceruleancattail]

aaa could i get ace, riddle, and floyd where reader keep coming up behind them and kissing their neck?,, if not that's okay!!

Smooching their Neck

Ace x reader, Riddle x reader, Floyd x reader

Ace

The first time your lips brush against the nape of his neck, Ace's cheeks are flaring up.

A bright, lively scarlet.

Almost the same shade as the ribbon fluttering on his arm, even not more vibrant. Ace’s sharp tongue seems intent on twisting itself in knot after knot. His words come out in stutters, quaking like a sole leaf caught in the passion of a storm.

Caught in the passion of your love.

See, as much as Ace likes to think himself as the most suave, romantic Casanova to ever walk this earth, he’s remarkably susceptible to sudden shows of affection. Tease him back, and he folds faster then a hand of cards.

Ace is putty in your hands, truly. Apply some loving tender affection, and he’s melting into you. Just… don’t get too carried away with the teasing, alright?

Or else, Ace just might decide to have a little fun of his own.

“Oi ! What d’ya think you’re doing ? All cutesy-like, hiding behind my back like that… How about you come over here ?

Give me a real kiss, this time.”

Riddle

Riddle’s pretty similar to a traffic light.

Everything he feels is prominently displayed on his face. His anger, dark crimson spots on both of his cheeks, eyebrows scrunched together. Happiness, with all the tension just melting away from his face, a smile gracing his lips.

Embarrassment, with the back of his neck glowing red-hot. A scarlet blush spreads over most of his skin, blooming like wildflowers. The curve of your mouth, the plush of your lips, the careful, careful way you seem to press them right against the nape of his bare neck?

It’s heavenly, truly.

Unconsciously, Riddle finds himself leaning closer to you. Meeting your touches with sighs of relief, and little chuckles, as light as a rose’s petal.

Affection takes on a whole new meaning for Riddle, if you’re the one granting it.

“ Just what do you mean by… by this ? Affection?It wasn’t the most unpleasant feeling, actually….

Could… could you give me another ?”

Floyd

Floyd’s usually the one giving the surprises.

Once you’re too used to being the perpetrator, it’s quite easy to get complacent. Comfortable enough to let your guard down. Lo and behold, Floyd left himself unguarded around your lips.

His first reaction was honestly to freeze. Sitting there, spellbound. Processing whatever you’ve just done to the nape of his neck. It tingles, long after your lips left his skin.

A prickly sort of warmth, surging into his very bones. A comforting sensation… much like a treasured knitted sweater, yanked on during cold wintery days.

It’s a nice feeling, actually.

Floyd’s heart has gone all fluttery inside, thanks to you. What are you going to do to make up for that, shrimpy? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, so they say.

It wouldn’t be fair for you to rile him up like this, and come out fully unscathed, right ? Floyd going to wrap you in his arms, and squeeze you all tight. You’re just so adorable !

“Ehh…. Just one kiss, shrimpy? How about another, hmmm?

Maybe on the lips this time?

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Conrad's panic attack at the end of episode 3 but instead of Steven, reader goes after him. Maybe they no longer speak and had a huge falling out

Seeing that scene gave me so many flashbacks of scary times. When it happens, you sometimes don’t know what is happening and there’s so many things happening at the same time. I often get them at night. Waking up unable to breathe, heart palpitations, shaky legs and feeling so hot no amount of cold air makes me cool enough. Or during ptsd moments. 

Warnings: panic attack

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were all gathered in front of the television, ready for a movie night. It happened one night filled the screen, a choice made by Belly, but no one was mad about it. Though the seating arrangements caused a few initial hiccups, everyone managed to find a comfortable spot. Belly and Taylor sat closely on the right end of the couch, Jeremiah and Steven on the left, and you occupied the middle. Conrad had the loveseat all to himself.

As the movie began, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Conrad, secretly wishing you were sitting beside him. However, things had changed between the two of you, and you hadn't spoken in months — not since the funerals. 

Beside Steven, Jeremiah's soft laughter echoed, reminding you of the good times you all used to share. It felt like a brief return to the past.

A few minutes in, Conrad’s phone buzzed, drawing your attention. His expression shifted as he read the message, the light amusement on his face falling, the movie now entirely forgotten. He quietly got up, trying to not disturb anyone, and left the house through the backdoor.

A sense of concern washed over you as you watched him go. You couldn't help but wonder what the message on his phone could have been and why it affected him so deeply. Your first thought was that it was about his mom, but Susannah was gone now. So, it was either school or his dad. 

Without hesitation or explanations, you stood and went after him. Steven opened his mouth to ask where you were going, but you ignored him. 

Forgetting about shoes, you let the door slam shut behind you, only thinking about Conrad. You hurried down the deck, seeing his figure walking down the beach in the darkness of the evening. The beach and the sea had always been a safe place for Conrad, he found the sound of crashing waves created soothing.

‘’Conrad!’’ you called out in the distance.

He didn’t turn or stop. He kept walking to the shoreline, his back was hunched as his breathing became rapid and shallow. Like he was struggling to find air. You saw him place a hand over his chest right before he stumbled and fell to his knees in the sand.

Your eyes widened with worry, and you could feel your heart racing. ‘’Conrad!’’ 

This time, you ran up to him. The sand was getting between your toes, a feeling you absolutely despised, but you ignored your own discomfort and focused on Conrad. You fell down on the sand beside him, saying his name again. 

Conrad looked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with fear and vulnerability. His breaths were erratic, and it was clear he was struggling to regain control of the rising panic within him. His eyes were filled with distress, not understanding what was happening. 

‘’I-I can't breathe,’’ he managed to say, his voice trembling. ‘’My chest feels so tight, I—’’ 

Your heart sank as you realized what was happening. Conrad was having a full-blown panic attack. You should have guessed faster. You knew the signs all too well. They can be overwhelming and debilitating.

‘’You’re having a panic attack,’’ you explained calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Conrad's gaze locked with yours, searching for some form of reassurance. ‘’Make it stop,’’ he stammered, his voice still shaking. ���’Please, make it stop.’’ He clutched at his chest, gripping his shirt tightly, the air unable to pass through his lungs. 

You had been taught a few techniques to come back from a panic attack, but you figured the fastest one would work best on Conrad. 

You took his hand and put it over your chest. Conrad tried to push you away, but you didn’t let him. ‘’Follow my breathing.’’ 

It felt overwhelming to be touching you, to be so close to you. It made Conrad’s heart want to jump out of his chest. He tried his best to follow along, trying to focus on your breathing instead of how you made him feel. It was evident that he was struggling, but he made an effort to control his breaths, to follow your pattern. 

Gradually, Conrad's breathing started to stabilize, and his panicked expression softened. ‘’That’s it. Keep breathing with me,’’ you encouraged him, offering a sense of safety and stability in the midst of his distress.

As the minutes passed, the panic attack began to subside. Conrad's shoulders relaxed, and his grip on your arm loosened. The crashing waves provided a natural rhythm for his breath, and he started to find a sense of calm. 

Once he was in a better state, he looked at you with gratitude in his eyes. ‘’Thanks for…helping me,’’ he whispered, his voice still shaky but filled with appreciation.

‘’You don't have to thank me, Con,’’ you replied gently.

Con. You had not called him that in a while. It felt strange on your tongue. 

‘’I want to,’’ he insisted. ‘’If you had not followed me out here, I would not have known what to do.’’ Conrad looked down, brushing sand off his jeans. 

‘’Well, I’m glad to have helped you. I…I’m gonna go back inside, now. I know you don’t want me to be here.’’

His words had been harsh when he saw you arriving with Jeremiah yesterday. They stung, but you didn’t expect him to be happy to see you either. Not after your breakup at Susannah’s funeral.

‘’It’s not true.’’ Conrad lifted his head, but kept his eyes on the sea. ‘’I always want you to be there. Even when I say I don’t.’’ 

You looked at Conrad, surprised by his honesty and vulnerability. It was rare he would speak his emotions out loud. He was more of a bottling things up and rarely, if ever, expressing them kind of person.

‘’I'm sorry for what I said to you. For everything,’’ he said, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. ‘’I never wanted to hurt you, but I did. I should have taken the hand you were holding out for me instead of ripping it off and seeking comfort in someone else's arms to hurt you enough that you'd hate me and go away.’’

As Conrad poured his heart out, you could see the pain and regret in his eyes. For once, he wasn’t pushing you away. He was opening to you and making confessions you never thought you would ever get. 

He kept going. ‘’No matter what I do or say, you'll always be there. Here.’’ Conrad clawed at his heart and then dropped his hand. ‘’You’re engraved in my heart, Y/N, and I can’t get you out. I tried. I tried really hard, but something always pulls me back to you.’’

You took a moment to process his words, then spoke. ‘’Have you ever heard of the Red string of fate?’’ Conrad drew his eyebrow together, so you continued. ‘’It’s an ancient legend that originated in East Asia. The legend speaks of an invisible red string tying two together those who are meant to meet, no matter how far apart they live or how different their lives are. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.’’

Conrad traced over your pinky, as if he was visualizing the red string there. ‘’Do you think this string is— that our string is tied to each other?’’ 

You looked down where he was touching you, feeling a slight shiver at his touch. You looked back up into Conrad's blue eyes. ‘’Maybe,’’ you replied, reaching out to gently touch his hand.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight  @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777

[luveline]

could you do one with aaron or spencer?

maybe reader and hotch/reid are on a case together and end up being taken hostage by the perp and then reader has a panic attack while they’re stuck, just them two and the perp in the room, and hotch/reid comforts her??

💕💕

ty for ur request ♡ —hotch calms you down when you panic while being held prisoner. fem!reader, 1.1k

cw criminal minds typical gore and violence, reader having a panic attack

The floor is spotted with blood spots like black mould, a fine spray of dark red interrupted by the place where you'd been kneeling. Pulled back now, the unsub has you handcuffed to a pipe under a snug sink, short, your neck bent to fit. You think I won't fucking kill you? Sit still.

You're trapped. Tied and trapped, waiting for the unsub to snap. And the worst part is that Hotch is here to watch it happen. 

Hotch tried to de-escalate the situation, and for the most part it worked, but the unsub has yet to let you go. He stands panting and lilting from side to side, barrel of a gun tapping bruises into his temple. Every thwack makes you jump, sure that this will be the moment he turns his pistol on you. You're trained for this, you know what to do, but training can't prepare you for the reality of a hopeless situation. 

You're going to die here. Hotch is going to die here. 

You can't breathe. Legs crossed, you're slouched into yourself, the flat of your chest tight like the air has been suctioned from your lungs. The room is dark, shadows bouncing in the corners. The only light comes from a yellow strip above the sink mirror. 

"Fucking stupid," the unsub mutters, his voice choked with tears. "Stupid, stupid." He sounds agonised. 

You've all the raw panic of a bear trapped in metal maws, sharp pain at your wrist like certain death. You've given up on breaking free, rivulets of blood streaking from the broken skin ringing your arm down to your elbow. Every breath teases another drop. 

"Breathe," Hotch says, the metal on his cuff rattling. It's the first time he's moved since he woke up, a picture of calm while you'd been ragging yourself raw. "Y/N, listen to me… Take a nice, deep breath." 

"Shut up! Did I say you could talk?" the unsub seethes.

"My talking won't affect how this situation ends," Hotch says, with the gentle tone he uses while speaking to victims. "But if she panics, you won't be able to control her. I can calm her down." 

"Shut up shut up! Make her shut up!" 

Hotch's handcuffs rattle again. "Y/N, give me your hand. Reach out for me." You shake your head, your one free hand wedged between your legs. "Reach out for me. Please." 

You try to keep your gasping contained, that pushing, pulling war for air, a pervasive ache all the way to your fingers. You slide your hand across the floor. Hotch can't reach you fully, but he can lay his fingertips on top of yours. They're cold for once.

The unsub changes his mind, irate, a hacking cough of a voice as he grabs you by the back of the head and forces you up, ripping your hand away from Hotch's. "Fucking useless bitch. Keep your head up or I'll kill you. I'll kill you." 

You bite back a sob. You truly can't breathe, the panic attack twisting and twisting like a hand between your ribs, a corkscrew opener, your hyperventilating a white hot heat that eats up your throat. 

"You have to let me calm her down," Hotch says.

The unsub grabs you by the hair and turns to Hotch with fury on his face. You frown at Hotch through tears in a plea for help, knowing there's nothing he can do and wanting it desperately anyways. His eyes set, the line between his brows deepening, and his voice hardens. 

"I promise you that if you keep hurting her, I'll pay it back tenfold," Hotch says. 

The unsub lets you go, but his voice is dripping with smarm as he drawls, "Opposed to the gentle care I'd receive otherwise." 

Hotch pulls at his cuff, the radiator pipe it clings to buckling but not breaking under his strength. The unsub doesn't like this, doesn't like anything, and his splitting personality shifts away from cruelty and toward regret once again. He retreats to his corner. 

"You're okay," Hotch whispers, ignoring the other body in the room. "Honey, you're alright." He has a talent for surprising you, the pet name he uses like a soft touch even while your hands are bound and you're held apart. "It's going to be okay. I promise you that." 

"I'm– I can't breathe," you force out.

"Yes you can. I'll do it with you." 

Hotch looks at you steadily. "Breathe," he mouths, his face relaxing. He forms an 'o' with his lips and demonstrates a slow exhale, a bigger inhale. 

You follow his command. Hotch holds your gaze for what feels like hours but is more like ten minutes. He breathes in and out with a reassuring look about him, as though the unsub isn't there, as though you aren't both covered in blood and sitting in the gore of a dead calf. 

Your terrified panting turns to sorry sobs and then to gutted sniffles. Later, you'll feel embarrassed for losing your cool at a time that was so high stakes. Now, you unfold your legs and stretch them out, pressing the side of your shoe to Hotch's. He presses back

Morgan finds you, of course. You never should've doubted him. He floods the building with SWAT and takes your unsub alive personally. He's an amazing agent, a better friend —when he uncuffs you, he pretends not to see the way you crawl toward Hotch. 

Emily uncuffs Hotch at the same time, his big hand quick to hold your face. Then, in the same second, he wraps his arms around your shaking shoulders. 

"I'm sorry," you say, remorse thick on your tongue, apology squeezed out like a scared little kid's.

"Careful of your hand, your wrist. Don't hurt yourself worse." His voice drops to a murmur, for your ears alone. "Don't panic yourself again. Everything's okay." His hand moves down your back slowly, firmer now, "I got you." 

"Actually, I've got you," Morgan says. "Can you guys walk, or should I call in the EMTs?" 

Emily scoffs. "Morgan." 

Hotch drops his head back against the wall and sighs a long-suffering sigh. You can't see the relieved slouch of his shoulders, or the daunted look he sends Morgan. Your panic took more out of him than he's willing to show you. 

"I'll call them in," Morgan says decisively. 

[mrs-kmikaelson]

07| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Marcel Gerard x mostly platonic!reader Summary: Trying to figure out a way to get Klaus to trust you, you reminisce over the past and how trust was earned in a similar situation. Warnings: none Words: 3.7K

Masterlist

a/n: does anyone know how i can fix the gifs from like not centring? it looks fine on my laptop but horrible on mobile😭

NEW ORLEANS, 1970

Strobe lights went all across the room, music blaring, but I could barely tell what song was playing, too distracted by what I was doing—or, rather, who I was about to do. I ran my fingers through his hair while his hand crept up my skirt, our kiss getting more passionate by the second.

His name didn't matter. All I cared about was the fun we were about to have. 

"Why don't we take this somewhere more private," he mumbled in between kisses. 

I nodded against him, giving him one last kiss before whispering in his ear. "Back alley." The fact that I was drunk didn't stop me from leading us across the dance floor to the back where I'd been many times before. I knew the owner—who was also a really good kisser—and so I knew where to go.

I felt the cold air hit us as soon as we got outside, despite feeling so hot. As soon as the door closed, I turned around, intending on pulling him back in for a kiss, but I almost staggered back when I saw the same man I was kissing just moments ago with veins crawling underneath his eyes, fangs protruding in his mouth.

What the fuck?

I quickly sobered up, baring my own fangs at him. The atmosphere went from hot and sexy to dark in an instant. 

His eyes widened. While his voice was surprised, there was still an undertone of hostility. "You're a vampire?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You didn't know?" God, how drunk was he? I smelt that he was a night crawler immediately. Clearly, he thought I was a human and wanted to leave so he could suck me dry.

That wasn't happening. For obvious reasons.

He cursed under his breath. For a second, I thought we'd get back to what we were doing; I mean, I just cleared this up. I was gonna be generous and continue to make out with him in spite of the fact that he just tried to kill me, but this dude just had to kill my fun, too.

He tried charging at me, but my magic worked faster than even vamp speed. Quickly, I rushed, "Motus!" and he was sent flying into the wall. My eyes widened. Fuckkkkkk, man.

I just wanted to get laid.

I wasn't supposed to do that. I was supposed to punch him, maybe snap his neck—I was supposed to do something that a vampire would do. A vampire doesn't just move things with their mind.

I thought I was soberer than that, but it seemed that the alcohol was still affecting me because I just sent a fucking vampire flying. Shock was all over the guy's face, his pretty, pretty face that I just wanted to have a good time with.

Fuck. Now I'd have to kill him.

He remained against the wall, but he didn't wait much longer before firing questions at me. "What the hell was that-"

I cut him off, "Look, man, I wasn't planning on doing a lot of talking with you tonight." Annoyance laced my voice. He didn't respond as quickly, just looking at me with an extremely analyzing gaze. I didn't doubt that he was confused. People don't just come across people like me. 

He was silent until it looked like a light bulb went off in his head. "Tribrid," he muttered under his breath, almost like I wasn't meant to hear it, but I did.

My blood went cold. "What did you just say?" I asked, but he ignored me, continuing to mutter under his breath.

"I knew a guy once—he was half wolf, half vampire." If he didn't have my attention before, he sure as hell did now. Because I only knew one person that matched that description, and that was Klaus Mikaelson.

My body went rigid while the guy took little notice, seeming to put together a bunch of puzzle pieces in his head. "Yeah-" he paused, looking up at me, "I've heard chatter. Witches saying something about a... triangle: werewolf, vampire... and witch."

Chatter? He's heard chatter? A thousand things went through my mind at once. That was impossible. Nobody knew about me. I just got to this city; there was no way witches have managed to decipher a secret I've spent centuries keeping.

Against my will, my tone was now less calm. "I don't know what you're-"

"I think you do know what I'm talking about." The guy's eyes were hard as he stared right back at me. I thought he was just some baby vamp, but it appeared that he was proving me wrong. He took a step closer to me. "You're the tribrid, aren't you?"

I almost laughed, even though I was full of nerves while, just seconds ago, I was fine. "You must have a death wish," I remarked. Maybe I could've left him alone, convinced him to forget about my display of magic and just left town. But now he not only saw that, but he also knew exactly who I was and he'd go running to tell everyone else.

He had to go. It's a shame, though, I thought, he was such a good kisser.

I stepped closer to him and he immediately got the message, eyes widening again once he realized that I had the upper hand. "No, no," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I promise you; you do not want to kill me."

I scoffed, "And why is that?"

"Listen, I hold a lot of influence around here-"

I scoffed again. "I really don't care." Throwing power around was a politician's move, and politicians only lied to you. I wasn't gonna take my chances.

I was walking towards him, taking one step forward for every step he took back until he blurted, "My name is Marcel Gerard." At this, I stopped. Marcel Gerard... I knew that name. I stood still, racking my brain until I realized why his name sounded so familiar.

Marcel Gerard literally ruled this city. I'd been in New Orleans for not even a few days yet you could hear vampires and witches alike mentioning him often.

Damnit. Of course, I not only meet the guy who the vampires in this city worship, but I also end up locking lips with him and have him find out what I am.

I just wanted to have fun.

He saw recognition on my face, causing his own to light up. "So, you know who I am." I nodded in response, exasperatedly rolling my eyes. All of this had completely caused my buzz to dissipate into thin air. "Look..." he trailed off, making a gesture with his hands.

I rolled my again. "Y/N."

"Look, Y/N, I know what you are. I figured it out in seconds. There's already speculation of a tribrid going around with the witches-"

"Get to the fucking point, Marcel, before I just decide to kill you. Believe me, I am not in the mood to deal with this right now."

He didn't waste any more time. "I can get the witches to back off and find something else to fixate on. I can bury just the thought of a tribrid being out there, Y/N," he emphasized. 

I wonder just how dumb he thought I was. I shook my head. "So you want me not to kill you, just so you can go blab to whoever you see as soon as I leave you alone?" He shook his head right back at me.

"I won't say a thing, trust me." He paused. "We can help each other."

"Oh, c'mon-"

"No, I'm being serious," he asserted, no longer looking like he was backed into a corner but much more assured than before. "Killing me wouldn't do you any good. My people would search relentlessly for my killer, and the witches would only keep digging, possibly striking gold at some point. You keep me alive, and I can get rid of that for you." 

I only stared at him with narrow eyes. He looked confident in the bar, that's what drew me to him, but I wasn't expecting anything like this. He had a point, but that didn't mean it was enough to stop me from killing him. And if I didn't like this city, then I'd kill him without any qualms and leave. But I do like this city. I want to stay here, and I knew I couldn't stay here with him dead and with the witches suspicious.

I couldn't afford to make enemies. Right now, what I needed were friends.

I'd already made up my mind, but Marcel didn't know that, still trying to get me to see a vision that I already understood. "We can make a good team, Y/N."

I didn't say anything for a few more seconds, thinking everything over in my mind. I could possibly be making the biggest mistake of my life right now, I thought. But I was already set. I kept my voice cold and devoid of emotion. "I'm giving you twenty-four hours to make this witch thing go away, Marcel."

A weight was lifted off his shoulders. "And I'll do just that." I wasn't gonna stick around much longer. This was already much more conversation than I was anticipating to have tonight, and we clearly weren't gonna have sex, so without another thought, I sped out of the alley.

Little did I know, that night marked the start of one of the rest of my life in New Orleans.

THE PRESENT

I was pulled out of my reverie when I saw Marcel came into my vision, sitting down on the chair opposite to me. We started out trying to kill each other, and now look: we were meeting for coffee. 

I didn't trust him when I first met him, even after he made my problems with the witches disappear. That wasn't enough. And it also wasn't enough for him to insist I work with him. Those were things he was doing for his own benefit, so, of course, that didn't inspire my trust in him.

I only started trusting Marcel after he opened up to me about his past. Doing that, getting vulnerable with someone—that showed that you trusted them. And what better way to get someone to trust you than to show that you trust them?

I wasn't just reminiscing for the sake of it. The way Marcel got me to trust him was what I'd been forgetting throughout all my interactions with Klaus. I couldn't just ask him to trust blindly, the same way Marcel couldn't ask me to, or the same way I couldn't get the witches to.

I needed a show of good faith. The trick was just figuring out what.

"Hey, Y/N/N." 

I nodded back to Cellie's greeting, pushing a tumbler over to his side of the table. While I actually liked coffee, Marcel wasn't a fan. "Got you your drink."

He grinned. "Ah, have I told you how much I love you recently?"

"Definitely not enough," I quipped back. "Now drink." His smile only got wider as he brought the tumbler up to his lips, sipping from his blood while I worked at finishing my Americano.

It's been about a week since I gave the contract to Klaus and went out with Marcel and Cami, who were now accepting the title of "dating" (after lots of resistance from Cami's side). Things have otherwise been quiet. I've been over to the Abattoir a few times to speak with Elijah, sometimes speaking to Hayley, and rarely talking to Klaus, but everything was fine if you didn't count the fact that he was still staring at me every time I came over.

You'd think that I'd be the one behaving that way after constantly seeing my father, his baby mama, and his brother, but nope. I've been calm; the whole Mikaelson thing has been getting to me less, but Klaus would look at me like he was trying to pick apart everything I said or did.

Sooner or later, it wouldn't matter how well I kept my secret. He was just gonna keep digging, so I needed to stop him before he struck gold.

"How's D been doing?" He asked, and the Mikaelsons were instantly pushed to the back of my mind. Davina had that effect.

"She's been good. Doing her school work, getting better with her magic by the day. You should come by for dinner soon, actually."

"Yeah, I-" he cut himself off when a "ping" sounded. He glanced down at his phone on the table, muttering a curse under his breath. When he looked back up at me, his expression was a mix of annoyance at the disturbance and apology. "Sorry, Y/N/N, I've gotta-"

"No, no, it's fine," I told him. "Go on and deal with it." He gave me a silent thank you before getting up, kissing my cheek in parting.

"I'll make it up to you. Dinner at mine," he said, walking away backwards. I smiled, telling him I'd see him later, and then he was out the door. Although we'd been sitting for all of one minute before he had to go, I wasn't irritated. He was getting back into the groove with the Quarter's happenings, so I'd be fully supportive.

I got up, throwing my empty coffee cup into the trash and walking out of the little café, mentally running over my schedule: housekeeping, then dinner with Marcel and Davina later. Right now, I'd go game plan my pitch to the vampires.

Or not.

Just as I was about to cross the street, a black car abruptly skirted in front of me, making me jump back. Before I could make anything of it, two men stepped out of it. Their expressions were practically lifeless, not a trace of emotion in sight.

"Get into the car," one of them ordered, causing me to furrow my brows. What the fuck?

I voiced my concerns not a moment later. "Excuse me?"

The other one stepped forward as if he was threatening me. I looked him up and down. Who the fuck was he stepping to like that? "Ma'am, you're gonna need to get into the car willingly before we force you to." 

Force me to? I only stared at him, debating on whether or not I was gonna bash his head into the car he was threatening me to get into in front of any passers-by. I was then reminded of the exact thing I was on my way to work on: the peace pacts. If I exacted any violence, that wouldn't be setting the right example.

Still, though, I was tempted.

After a few seconds of eying them both, I realized I not only knew them, but I also understood what was happening here.

These were some of Marcel's old vampires.

And they were compelled.

Damnit. I glanced to the car behind them. I was willing to bet money that, inside that very car, sat Klaus. I rolled my eyes. A week ago, I would've been more put off by this, and I was, but I was more annoyed than anything.

I'd find some way to get him to trust me later, but if I didn't get into this car right now, then he'd only become even more suspicious of me, and I didn't need that.

I shook my head in disbelief that I was even gonna do this, gesturing for them to move so I could get into the car. One of them opened the back door for me and I got in.

I turned to my left, fully expecting Klaus to be sitting next to me, but instead I was met with the sight of a blonde with big, voluminous curls and bright blue eyes. Despite fitting into the dumb blonde mold exactly, I knew she was anything but.

This was Rebekah Mikaelson.

I (hopefully) hid my shock quickly, but my eyes still narrowed. My mind raced, wondering what the hell she could possibly want from me. I first jumped to conclusions, but I shut them down immediately, knowing that there was no way anyone knew I was related to the Mikaelsons, including the Mikaelsons themselves.

While I'd been visiting the Abattoir often, Rebekah was basically nowhere to be found. I never would've guessed that this was how I'd be meeting her, being pushed into a car by vampires acting like they were secret service. But, with the Mikaelsons, so far nothing has gone as I expected it.

When she turned to me, she didn't stop and observe me first like her brother did. I'd learned from my research that Rebekah Mikaelson was impulsive, possibly even more so than Klaus. So it didn't surprise me when she cut right to the chase. 

"You must be Y/N," she said. Her voice sounded like honey and a smile was on her lips, but it didn't take rocket science to know that it was all an act. "I'm Rebekah Mikaelson, but I'm sure you're already aware of that." 

I was. And so I said that. "I am." 

She hummed at my response, indirectly reminding me so much of Klaus. She pressed a button to her side, causing the partition to roll up, never looking away from me once. Her smile then quickly dropped. "What are you doing with Marcel?"

Now, I couldn't hide the surprise on my face. "What?"

"You heard me," she asserted, unwilling to elaborate any further and just continuing to look at me, waiting for a reply.

Out of all the reasons she could've pulled me into this car, that one had never even crossed my mind. I paused for a few seconds, thinking over how I'd respond. I knew Rebekah and Marcel had history, and Rebekah had created a reputation for herself as not only being a lover, but a rather possessive one.

Saying the wrong thing here could get me into a tight situation I did not want to be in, so I had to be sure that my words wouldn't piss her off. "He's my friend," I told her, but she didn't look very convinced.

"Really?" She questioned, sarcasm noticeable in her voice. "Are you so cozy with all of your friends? Because you both looked rather close in that café." So she was watching us.

I backtracked, remembering how he kissed me on the cheek on his way out. I see how that could look bad to some people, especially his ex-girlfriend who seemed much more attached to him than he let on. From the way Marcel told the story, him and Rebekah were over, but the way she was acting didn't suggest that at all.

Suddenly, Camille was brought to the forefront of my mind. "We are close," I defended. "I've known him a long time, and we're just friends." I could've left it there—should've left it there, but with Cami on my mind I couldn't help but add, "Besides, he has a girlfriend."

Rebekah narrowed her eyes at me; although, something told me she was already conscious of that little fact. Her jaw tensed, making me more alert. While Elijah and even Klaus wouldn't immediately deal with their problems physically, I knew Rebekah was a different story.

She was smart, don't get me wrong, but if there was something to know about her it was that her emotions overpowered her mind more often than not. She was impulsive, and so this could go real bad, real quick.

I had to get out of this.

I decided to just say something instead of letting her make the first move. If I said something first, then I could take control of the situation and spin it before she could.

"Look," I started. "Marcel and I have a completely platonic relationship." Well, not completely, but I wasn't gonna tell her that. "After we met, I was just helping him keep things running smoothly in the Quarter, the same thing I'm doing with your family now."

While her expression remained blank, I could tell I was swaying her in the right direction. She just needed one last push. "We talk so often because of Davina. She's important to both of us, and we just want to make sure she gets the childhood she deserves." Her eyes immediately softened, and I knew I got her.

Davina was just a child. As ruthless as Rebekah could be, she still had humanity inside her—Marcel had told me this time and time again when he was under the influence. There was something in her that he fell for, and it was her ability to care when she really wanted to.

She finally looked away from me. "I understand," she said. If I knew anything about her, then I knew she was probably embarrassed right now. It turned out that Rebekah's emotional nature had actually helped, not harmed. "Sorry for the inconvenience," she apologized, but her eyes never met mine.

She rolled the partition back down, telling the driver to stop the car and unlock the doors. "You're free to go, Y/N." I stared at her for a few seconds, wondering if there was anything else I was supposed to say, but I came up empty. So I just got out of the car and watched as they drove away right after.

Once I could no longer see the car, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I just met Rebekah Mikaelson.

And I just barely dodged a bullet. I directed my thoughts away from freaking out because I just met yet another member of my family to how I was gonna fix the problem I had.

I couldn't keep tiptoeing on this tight-rope around the Mikaelsons. Sooner or later, I'd fall. I needed to do something to get them, all of them, to trust me. If they caught me at the right time, then everything could be exposed.

I had all of these thoughts running through my mind until a light bulb went off, and all of the puzzle pieces suddenly assembled themselves into a clear picture.

I knew what to do.

I had my show of good faith.

Taglist: @scrynexxtins @thisnameistaken1234 @honestlycasualarcade @xlittlestarling @thatgirljas13 @rosecentury

[loliflwrs]

Band AU! Call of Duty Headcanons

Hello! Sorry I haven’t been on here in a while but I needed to get this out, its been stuck in my head for so long but I’ve been a little nervous to post/write about it, credits to @threehuskiesinatrenchcoat because I used their post for this!! enjoyyy 😘

(Characters Included: Phillip Graves, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, Rodolfo Parra)

Phillip Graves

Graves is going to be the bands lead vocalist. His country accent gives their music a catchy vibe, his voice really makes you want to turn the music all the way up and sing along the whole way through. During performances you can see him wearing a cowboy hat, ripped jeans with a brown belt and some cowboy boots. He may take off his white or gray wife-beater during the last few songs. He can get quite sweaty..

He loves his fans dearly and loves to receive their gifts. His favorite would probably be a decorated cowboy hat with his initials and a sweet note handwritten on the inside.

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro plays bass guitar. He’s like the backbone paired with the band’s drummer and maintains a steady rhythm. He’s very skilled with his hands and his fans don’t hesitate to say so, it gets a good laugh out of him. His usual attire during performances can be a dark red t-shirt, jeans and boots. He usually won’t wear anything additional like hats, he says it kind of affects his focus when he’s trying to play. Although, on his wrists he wears some bracelets he’s received from fans.

During a world tour, the band played in Las Almas and received a large Mexican flag. The flag was signed by many fans and had some words of encouragement to every member as well. He has it set up in the band’s usual practice room.

Valeria Garza

Valeria is the drummer. She moves fast, skillfully, and hard. The tattoos on her strong arms receive a lot of attention. She wears her usual bandana around her neck, a dark gray tank top, some cargo pants and black boots. She’ll have at least one or two hair ties on her wrists, although she has about nothing to tie up. She’ll find the edits made of her online amusing, she won’t hesitate to favorite one or repost it. Valeria does those drumstick tricks, she’ll throw one up during a pause, catch it, and keep it going.

Her hairstyles change occasionally, a fan favorite is her hair braided on one side of her head with the other side let loose. The fans would love to see her in a long sleeved black turtleneck with her gold chain again but, she got way too hot the last time. What a sight to see..

Rodolfo Parra

Rudy is the lead guitarist, he plays the electric guitar. Not unusual for him to have a band-aid or two on his hands. He absolutely shreds on his guitar, he has some back ups incase something happens to his during a performance. He likes to wear a white t-shirt, light jeans and maybe some adidas sneakers too. His hands can get quite cold too, it’s a slight shock to a fan when they get a high-five or something..

He likes to decorate his guitar and he lets the fans join in on it, they bring in cute stickers for him. Back to having backup guitars, Rodolfo usually posts a story on the band’s Instagram to let their fans vote on which guitar he should use that night.

[m0chaminx]

Peter Parker | Snow Storm

*•.¸♡Request: hello! can i please request ps4 peter fluff? maybe just peter coming back from a long night of patrolling and being really needy and tired <3

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: none

*•.¸♡Paring: ps4 Peter Parker x GN!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: Peter comes back from a night on patrol in the middle of winter. (This is straight up fluff)

*•.¸♡Words: 784

You raced around your small New York apart. Winter has surged through New York like it was intent on ruining your happiness and warmth. The heaters were broken, thank the landlord for that, and the small heat van had fallen from its place on your desk and broken against the hard floor in your hurried search. Search for what exactly? Peters's extra large black hoodie with a small spider symbol on the back, which you would never let him live down.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you found the hoodie in the stash of clothes you had stored in case Peter had decided to swing by. Just as you pulled the hoodie over your head your phone buzzed, its light shining through the darkness of your apartment. As you unlocked your phone you smiled softly, Peter's picture popping up in your messages. 

Is your window unlocked? 

It can be

PLEWASDE ITRS FREEZIUNG!!

ARE YOU SWINING AND TEXTING

IKLL BE OVER IN 5

You rolled your eyes and opened the latch to your apartment window before walking to the kitchen and putting a dozen pizza scrolls in the oven. As you walked back to the living area as Peter landed on the fire escape with a groan. He slipped through the window and flung his mask off. "Hello, hi, yes, you can kick me for this later," Peter rambled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You squealed as the cold of his suit chilled through the hoodie and your now freezing cheeks.

"Peter! Peter, you're freezing!"

"But you're so warm!" Peter ducked his head and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

"Go have a shower you creepy bug," You hissed, slipping from Peter's arms. "Get warm!" Peter groaned and threw his head back. "I'll set up a movie, I already have food on."

"You're the best," Peter cooed before turning towards the hall.

"Uh, Peter. Mask." Peter paused to grab the mask that he stuck to the side of the window sill before locking the window and rushing to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later you had set up the living room, most of your night had been spent on the couch with Peter anyway so most of the pillows were out there.

The living room was arranged to create the ultimate movie-watching experience. The centrepiece of the room was a plush, oversized sofa, adorned with soft throw pillows in mostly black and blues shades. In front of the sofa, a sleek and modern entertainment centre stood proudly, housing a large high-definition television. Netflix already set up on the movies section, the remote tossed thrown onto the table in between.

The small coffee table was placed within arm's reach of the sofa, holding the pizza rolls and whatever else you had found in the pantry. A bowl of freshly popped popcorn, still warm and smelling of salty butter, was surrounded by an array of snacks and hot chocolate.

As you set up to sink into the sofa Peter hopped over the back of the couch, stealing your spot. One of the hot chocolates almost split but Peter quickly caught it. "Hey-"

Peter pulled you down into the couch, your chest falling against his as your legs kicked up over the arm of the couch. "Hello to you too." Peter laughed and in a moment of pure affection, his eyes met yours. With gentle anticipation, his lips drew closer, the world around you both fading into the background. Time seemed to stand still as their hearts beat in synchrony, brimming with tender emotions.

Peter's lips finally met yours in a soft, delicate kiss, a sweet connection that sent sparks of warmth and joy coursing through your bodies. It was a gentle caress, filled with tenderness and an undeniable sense of belonging. In that fleeting instant, everything else ceased to exist, and their love spoke volumes in the quiet language of that sweet, innocent kiss.

Slowly Peter drew back, but still closer enough that his nose brushed against your forehead as he pressed a quick peck to your skin. "Tough night?" You asked softly, your hands coming up to trace a small cut above his eyebrows that had already healed to a small mark.

"Just long," Peter complained, his head dropping onto yours. "Evey second mission Yuri sent me on was on the other side of the city. I spent most of the night swinging in the freezing snowstorm."

"Well now..." You pulled yourself closer to Peter so you could curl against his chest. "You can just relax and watch The Princess Bride."

"We watch that every time," Peter complained, his head falling back against the couch.

"You can choose next."

ﾟ°☆Page Navigation

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 38 - Soulmates]

Warnings: just…softness and yoongie boongie :( and googie woogie :(, there is also Smut in this chapter but it’s not explicit, it’s more implied that she rides him but it’s not graphic you get me, either way they fucking deserve the fucking world, there will only be softness from now on

Wordcount: 10.3k

a/n: will i ever grow tired of writing them being touchy and in love? nope and nobody can stop me

You sometimes wonder how your life would have turned out had you stayed with your parents. Would you be happier or would you be living in your own personal Hell? Would your father still avoid looking into your eyes and would your mother still greet you by asking if you were finally doing something worthy with your life? Those are questions you know the answer to already. You would have escape nonetheless. One day, you would have left no matter what. You may not have ended up at this specific university with these specific secrets, but you still would have ended up somewhere else. Somewhere where people looked into your eyes and where simply being alive was already enough.

Being alive is a funny thing. Everything and everyone could kill you at any time. You breathe whilst sometimes feeling like drowning. Your heart beats even after getting it shattered. Your brain continues to produce thoughts, no matter how much one may beg it to stop. Your limbs continue working for as long as they are destined to work. And yet everything, every single thing works to one single goal. Death. That one day all this working may finally stop.

Death is an ever funnier thing. You wonder if you would look at it the way you do these days after everything you have been through. You wonder if you would still be as scared of it as you were back then, if you never knew how it feels to come so close to it. Maybe you would live happier though. Despite your fear. Maybe you wouldn’t have to think of all the lives you ended and just how death is certain for everyone. No matter if it comes in ten years, three days or five centuries. Everyone dies eventually.

Are you dead? Is that why you are thinking about it right now? Is this your brain’s last job? To make you think about how everyone dies? Didn’t people always say that one thinks of one's life if death was near? But what is there to think about really? Thinking about it hurts too much. Your grandmother left, your parents hated you and you failed to reunite the only family which felt like home. Yoongi. You failed to save him.

Your eyes open. The lights are so bright that it hurts. You blink to get rid of the pain. Wait a minute. You can’t be dead. You still feel like shit. This isn’t the afterlife, you’re still on earth.

Your vision returns to you and for just a second you wished that it would have given you a little more time to adjust. Yoongi is right there, sleeping on the pillow next to you and with his face glowing in life.

You want to call his name, but your voice doesn’t want to work. So you mouth his name as your hand reaches for his face to hold his cheek. You don’t even realise that your hand is healed. Taehyung must have used his blood to heal your burn marks. All you can concentrate on is Yoongi. He is still cold to the touch, but that doesn’t affect you. You are holding his face again and his cheek feels so soft in your palm and that was all that matters. It forces hot tears into your eyes. He is back.

You try his name again, but only manage to whimper. Yoongi reacts nonetheless.

He opens his eyes.

“Holy shit”, you finally get out. There they are. His dark brown eyes which always look at you with so much love.

Yoongi blinks at you slowly, fingers intertwining with yours just seconds later. He hums. It was a small sound, quiet and barely there, but it overwhelms you nonetheless.

“Yoong-” is all you get out and then you break into tears. Happiness, pain, relief. They are a little bit of everything and so much more.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything as his own tears overwhelm him before he could speak.

You draw closer, holding each other as tightly as you can. And then you cry. You know not for how long, but that doesn’t matter because you finally had each other to hold again. You find unconsciousness that way and it feels good to do because you had each other to hold.

You feel a little better when you open your eyes again. Yoongi is still sleeping, looking peaceful and healthy. His pink lips are parted slightly, his dark lashes rest against his ivory cheeks. He looks so, so healthy again. Holy fuck, he is here. Yoongi is actually with you again. You reach out to touch his cheek, making sure that he was real.

Yoongi opens his eyes. He smiles with them, humming softly. Like this, his cheeks puff out. You caress it softly, feeling so close to tears.

“Are you real?” you ask him in a shaking voice.

He nods his head slowly.

“I feel like I’m dreaming. Please say something, please.”

Yoongi blinks slowly. You feel dizzy in anticipation. 

“Anything please.”

“I missed you so much, my love”, he finally says and the sound of his voice makes you tear up instantly. This is it. This is exactly how Yoongi sounds. This is your Yoongi talking. He is actually here.

“It’s really you”, you press out, having to sob, “Yoongi, it’s really you.”

“Yes. It’s me.”

“Holy fuck, Yoongi. I love you”, you press out, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Are, are you real?”

“Yes”, Yoongi says and closes his eyes as you run your fingers over his face obsessively.

“I can’t believe that I did it. I saved you.”

“You did.”

“Did, did I actually do it?”

“You did.”

“Holy fuck, I did it. My love, I want to cry I did it." 

Yoongi smiles when you squeeze his cheek gently. He looks at you, feeling so happy that he wants to jump up and dance. But he can’t. His body feel so weak and tired that he can’t even find strength in himself to draw closer to you. So he has to lay here and allow you to touch him softly and he has no problem doing that. It feels like a dream to him. A beautiful, sweet dream. Your eyes race over his face without stopping, your fingers are clammy in emotion.

“Please say something only the real Yoongi knows. Just anything. I, I don’t believe that this is real.”

“Mhm, I can’t think of anything.”

“Just anything please.”

Yoongi gazes at your eyes deeply and adoringly. His lips curl into a warm smile.

“You’re my land”, he whispers.

“Yoongi”, you breathe, feeling lightheaded from all the emotions in your body.

He grins shyly, “I was really drunk back then.”

“Yoongi, you’re my land too”, you say, scooting closer, “Yoongi, you are really back. Oh my love, my beloved prince”, you trace his cheekbone, “you are truly back. Oh, I thought that I would never see you again. Did you feel anything when you were sleeping?”

He nods his head, “it felt like I was trapped in my own body.”

“Holy shit, oh no my prince. W-were you in pain?”

Yoongi hesitates for a second before he dismisses you with a shake of his head, “that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“So you were. Oh Yoongi”, you whimper, “I’m so sorry, I should have been faster. I, I should have-”

“Hush”, Yoongi silences you with a gentle touch to your temple, “you did more than enough. Way more”, he says and furrows his brows in worry, “you look so tired, my love.”

“I am. I’m so tired”, you say and smile, “but that’s okay to be, because I can be tired now.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll keep you safe.”

“And I’ll keep you safe”, you say, making his eyes fill with the softest of fondness.

“You will”, he whispers, closing the distance between you and him to kiss the slope of your nose.

“I, I’ll keep you safe from, from everything. I, I never want you to, to go through that a-again. I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe”, you are almost stumbling over the words from just how quickly you speak them.

Yoongi merely hums and kisses your forehead, pulling you against his chest afterwards.

“I fucking missed you”, he whispers.

“I missed you too. Oh god, Yoongi, I-I thought that I lost you already. It hurt so much.”

“I know. It hurt me too, my love. Listening to you cry so much while I couldn’t do anything felt like torture.”

“You heard me?” you gasp, lifting your head from the safety of his chest in order to look into his eyes.

“Yes, every word.”

“So you know about what I am?”

“Yes”, Yoongi answers you, tracing your cheek with his thumb. It seems that he can’t stop touching you and neither can you, tracing his cheek while your other hand rests on his strong chest.

“And about the...things I did?”

“Yes.”

“Oh”, you let out, swallowing nervously, “what do you think of it?”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know. In denial?” you laugh breathily, “I didn’t have time to process any of the hundreds and thousands of things which happened. I’ve been stuck in that day for nine weeks and everything which happened in those weeks felt like a weird dream.”

“Mhm”, he acknowledges you, “it’s okay to feel that way. A lot happened, didn’t it?”

“Yes. So much.”

“We’ll sort through it together. One thing at a time, yeah?”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, feeling your eyes fill with tears again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

“I’m just so tired and, and now you’re back and I feel like a weak, little plop of exhaustion. Fuck, I had so much stuff planned which I wanted to do with you once you’re back, but I’m just so tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? For making me want to fall asleep? Holy fuck, I haven’t slept properly in weeks. And, and now I just want to keep sleeping while I hold you. I don’t feel burdened anymore.”

Yoongi smiles softly, “that doesn’t sound that bad then”, he whispers, eyes lighting up as his smile spreads over his face, “we could sleep together. I feel tired too.”

“You do?”

He nods his head slowly, “I couldn’t even get up to hunt, they had to feed me blood bags.”

“Oh, my love. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll sleep it off. As should you.”

“I agree, I feel so sick.”

Yoongi furrows his brows in worry.

“But that’s okay. I’ll sleep it off, just as you will.”

Yoongi smiles and so do you.

“So we should get comfy, shouldn’t we?” you say and giggle.

“That sounds like a plan”, Yoongi whispers, shimmying closer until his lips are touching the bridge of your nose. He gives you a little kiss, “like this?”

“Yes”, you close your eyes, nuzzling closer, “yes, just like this.” And in the tiniest voice you could produce, you add your most honest “I love you.”

“I love you too”, Yoongi answers you, voice barely above a whisper for he knew that he didn’t need to shout for his whole world to hear him.

You drift off to sleep together just seconds later. You won’t notice it, but the sun will rise and set once before you even as much as change into a different position. Taehyung and Jimin will check up on you during that time, but seeing how peacefully you slumbered in each others’ arms they let you sleep and left again.

It is snowing outside when you wake up again. The room is dark, except for the moon shining into the windows. Its light is weak as the thick snow clouds keep it hidden. Yoongi moved his head just enough that his lips are on your forehead now. His fingers are deep in your hair, holding you close. You love this so much. But as much as you love it, you also need to change the position a little. Your shoulder aches from not moving it for hours. It wakes Yoongi, who ends up peeling his eyes open sleepily before he groans.

“My neck is killing me”, he complains, rolling it as best as possible.

“Same, my shoulder hurts”, you say.

He chuckles, rolling to his back. You do the same, stretching yourself.

“Uff now I’m dizzy”, you whine.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks, rolling onto his tummy and propping himself up on his elbows to study your features.

“Yes, gosh”, you place your hand over your mouth, “don’t come so close, I feel like I have the worst breath ever. My mouth feels like cardboard.”

Yoongi chuckles, reaching over to the bedside table to get you the bottle of water Jungkook left as he checked on you. He opens it for you.

“Drink that, it’ll help.”

“Thanks”, you murmur into your hand and sit up to drink. You hand it to Yoongi once you finished half of it.

“Thanks”, he accepts it, drinking it gladly.

“We must have slept for a few hours, it’s already dark outside”, you say.

“Yeah right? That must have been the deepest sleep ever, I feel so out of it”, he says with the left side of his hair completely dented.

“Yeah same. It feels like I slept for days.”

“Same.”

You and him exchange a look, drawing closer afterwards. The yearning was just too strong. Yoongi leans in.

“Oh wait”, you place your hand over your mouth again.

“Oh shut up with your bad breath insecurity, you think I care right now?” he complains in a laugh, tugging your hand away from your lips to instead claim them in a kiss. He wraps his arms around you, placing his hand on the back of your head.

You swear that in this moment colour returns to your world and warmth claims your skin again. He is kissing you again. Yoongi is kissing you. You whimper, wrapping your arms around him to press him as close as possible. You are kissing Yoongi again. This is actually happening.

He purrs, closing his hand around your side right under your arm. The squeeze he gives you, lets you know that he feels just as deeply about the situation as you do. You are back with him. He had to go weeks without you, haunted by your voice and tortured by constant pain.

You are wiping all of this away again. No more pain and agony. Your kiss heals him, your touch keeps him safe. And Yoongi feels overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by how happy he feels and how fucking grateful he is to be loved by you.

He chases you. Needs you closer. He chases you and chases you and chases you until you fall into the sheets and he has to climb on top of you. Atop your lap and with your arms hooked behind his neck, he finds his home, running his hands over the paths of your body. He still remembers his way. He was scared that he would forget, but he didn’t. All those paths and spots and places still feel familiar to his fingers. And tonight, in this snowy moonlit night, the journey leaves Yoongi trembling in intensity. He has to touch you or else he would crumble. And so he does. He keeps on feeling you, exploring you, touching you and messing with your head in the process.

You stopped caring about yourself in those past nine weeks. Your body, your skin, your lips. You didn’t want to be touched. It wasn’t important to you. The comfort it would have brought you felt wrong to you.  And Yoongi is touching you. He is kissing you whilst helping your skin remember just how wonderful it feels to receive loving touches. And it was Yoongi doing it, the one person you yearned for the most. Yoongi is helping you remember again and you don’t know if you can handle that.

You think you can’t. Every touch leaves behind traces of warmth and comfort and electricity. Sparks and sparks of electricity which linger on your skin and reawaken your need to be touched. You think that you would die if he stopped right now. You are so starved for tenderness. So fucking starved.

Yoongi breaks the kiss, but stays close. Touching and feeling your skin while his lips dance to your neck. This is his place, his home, the spot he can return to whenever he wants to because you made it his’. Your fingers tell him that you waited for him painfully much, tangling in his hair and keeping him close that way. The sensation of it sends tears to Yoongi’s eyes. It feels so good to feel something other than pain in his head and to know that you are giving it to him. Comfort. The remedy that heals you as well.

His hair feels so soft again. You were so blinded by your grief that you always pretended that his hair felt the same when he was passed out, but your fingers always knew. Each time you ran them through his hair they told your heart the truth while your heart refused to listen. His hair wasn’t soft anymore, but now it is. Now your heart can feel it too. Life has returned to Yoongi and with it, the softness of his hair. You want to never let it go again, twist it and hold it and keep him close that way. His lips kiss away the aches in your neck. You were in constant pain. Tense from falling asleep over your books or straight up passing out on the floor again and tight from the worry torturing your head. Yoongi kisses your skin and helps relaxation return to the aching spots. No more tension, no more aches, just his lips helping your skin remember how to feel and soothing your thoughts with it.

He can smell it too. He is drowning in you. You smell so happy and relieved. And you are soaked in love. It is suffocating him and Yoongi wants it to happen. He wants to suffocate in your scent. This is all he ached for ever since the cursed wood dug into his lungs and burned them painfully. To know that after all the torture, the first scent he can take in is your happiness and love brings new tears to Yoongi’s eyes.

He whimpers softly. He has to be closer to you. Why can’t he be closer to you? Your arms are around him, your hands are feeling his skin and your warmths melt into one and yet it is still not enough to him. You are so far gone. Yoongi can’t handle it.

He wraps his arms around you, presses you against his chest, sobs your name.

“I have to be closer”, he begs, “please pull me closer.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him against your chest. You even lift your head enough that you can bury your face in the crook of his neck. Yoongi holds your head instantly, taking the weight for you as his face disappears in the crook of your shoulder.

Closer. So much closer. And yet not close enough.

For neither of you. The distance was to grande those past few weeks. Not even this hug can heal your hearts.

“Closer”, you beg, “Yoongi please closer.”

“I don’t know how”, he whimpers, “princess, please”, he begs, cradling you against him desperately.

You slip your hand from his back just to twist a bundle of his boxer shorts. The message is clear to him. You have found a way. It is the only way.

Your eyes meet. Yoongi seems in disbelief that you could want something like this. He thought about it, but didn’t dare to voice it, scared that he might ruin the healing moment you and he are sharing.

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

“I have never been more certain. You?”

He nods his head vigorously and climbs off your lap. He falls to his back and lifts his legs, taking off his briefs that way. You do the same with your pajamas shorts. 

Yoongi sits up, looks at your bared middle. You do the same. One second. Eyes meet again. The contact is real. His eyes are so beautiful. 

He reaches out and tugs at your shirt. You know what to do. Yoongi knows as well. No insecurities plague him. Not when being naked with you is all he wants to experience. 

You climb atop his lap once you rid yourselves of your barriers. They kept you so far, far away from each other. You finally realise how big the gap between you was once you fall back into a hug and your naked chests touch.

“Yoongi”, you sob instantly, holding him with shaking fingers, “Yoongi, I love you.”

You don’t even notice how cold skin was right now. He feels warm and perfect to you. And in this moment you realise that it was never his warmth that kept you so comforted, but the softness of his skin. It wasn’t his warmth, but his touch. It has always been him that made you feel so much that you would run out of words before you managed to describe it.

“I love you too”, Yoongi sobs quietly, soiling your shoulder with his tears as the overwhelming sensation of being naked with you drags him down. He has to rest his cheek against you, grasping you with trembling fingers because if he wouldn’t, he would break into a million pieces. You are so warm in contrast to him. Yoongi hasn’t felt that warm in weeks. And in this moment he realises that he feels temperature as long as he is close to you. He could be lost in the deepest snow storm or stranded in the hottest deserts and he wouldn’t feel a thing. But ever since he learned of your warmth, Yoongi cares about temperature. He feels cold when he is without you and warm when he is reunited with you. And in this moment, he finally stops shivering.

“Closer my love, please I’m begging you”, he pleads, shaking in sobs.

And so you take that last step. One last step. You hope that it is enough. It would break you if it wasn’t. You hold him close and take him inside and in this moment it wasn’t for pleasure, it was for connection.

He fills you up in his entirety instantly, helping you remember yet another part of yourself you forgot. You feel warm between your legs when you can be with Yoongi. Not only in a pleasurable way, but more than anything in a sense of living kind of way. As if your purpose on this earth was to be connected with him. As if in those short and long moments where your bodies are the closest they can get, your souls are finally one again.

“___”, Yoongi sobs, lifting his head.

“Yoongi”, you whimper, spilling tears when he cups your cheeks.

“Please don’t leave me again”, he begs.

“Why would I? Yoongi, all I want in life is to be with you”, you choke out and sob.

“My beloved”, he breathes, eyes falling closed and as his instincts to love you kick in, he kisses you. He kisses you with the intent of never letting you go again. And you kiss him back with the same intent, holding him close while your bodies connected in instinctive rolls of your hips.

And again. It wasn’t for pleasure, but for connection. It was lost to you for weeks and now you have to make sure that nothing can ever shatter it again. The pleasure that comes with the repair is an unavoidable side product. Intense and deep and real. So goddamn fucking real.

Everything about this. It’s real. Your connection, your interwoven souls and the pleasure. Nothing ever felt as fucking real as being with Yoongi does.

Real and right.

So goddamn right.

And as he hugs you closer and kisses you and you finally feel whole again, you finally start to believe what Jimin told you all those endless days ago. No matter when or where, you were destined to meet Yoongi. No matter how long it would have taken or what form you would have possessed, your souls would have found each other because this is why they were brought onto this earth. And they would have turned into one again, colliding like two stars and together they would have filled the endless void with new galaxies and light.

This was always destined to happen.

Your souls were far apart once. Born at different times and different places and yet they found together. Many, many circles around the sun passed and with it your souls came closer and closer until they finally met when they were destined to meet.

You and Yoongi are right and you are real and this is exactly how it was always supposed to be.

“You feel so good”, he sobs, “you feel so fucking good.”

“You too”, you cry, “you feel so good too.”

“Please”, he begs, “please don’t stop.”

“I can’t stop. I couldn’t. Yoongi, I can’t stop.”

His hands are without home on your body. No rest. No pause. No break. They can’t stop exploring you. Feeling you. Remembering you. 

And in the process, they help you to remember as well. How it is to be adored and loved and cherished. How it is to be mapped out to make sure he will always know where to touch. How it is to speak the same language of love.

And being touched and touching in return will always be one of the most intense yet comforting languages to speak with Yoongi.

You were on the brink of forgetting it these past nine weeks, but you remember again. 

When his hands are on your hips and hold your waist, you know that you will always be taken care of. When his hands are closing around you in a tight hug, nothing can hurt you. When they cradle your face or caress your neck, you feel fragile but treasured. And when they intertwine with yours, you feel whole.

And in return, you remember that Yoongi shivers when you run your hands up and down his back. That he instinctively hugs you whenever you merely hint at hugging him. That he looks up at you with sparkling, adoring eyes when you cradle his cheeks. And that he whimpers softly whenever you hold his hands. 

And tonight he looks up at you with his right arm around your waist and his left hand pressing your hand against his chest and as he does, he cries miserably. Tears cover his cheeks and his lips tremble unstoppably. And you think that you have never seen something as beautiful as this. He is here again and he is alive.

His hips still chase you. As are yours chasing his’. 

“Please, p-please don’t leave me again”, Yoongi hiccups.

You shake your head vigorously, sobbing miserably.

“Please promise me.”

“I promise.”

Yoongi truly sobs. Like a little boy finally breaking under the pain. He pulls you close and buries his face in your neck. His hips speed up, his arms tense around you in their desperate attempt to melt with you.

“I love you”, he wails.

“I love you too”, you cry, hugging him back.

You find the highest form of pleasure very soon. It wasn’t the goal and yet it was destined to happen. The crescendo and very last attempt to deepen the connection. Just as Yoongi promises you with desperate shakes and a tight hug, you promise him with trembling fingers in his hair and his name at the tip of your tongue. You won’t lose each other again. Lights flicker around you as the emotion of being with him again overwhelms you. Yoongi holds you closer, keeping you with him, loving you just as deeply and it was okay again. You are okay again and it feels so goddamn good to be okay again.

You don’t leave his lap once you stopped shaking. You can’t leave it yet. You have to stay close and make sure that he won’t slip away again, crying into his shoulder because it seems that you just can’t stop crying.

And Yoongi holds you through it all, trying to comfort you whilst crying himself. He knows why he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to tell you, because he knows that it would break your heart, but Yoongi hasn’t felt that much physical pain in countless centuries than when he was trapped in this magical realm and crying is the only way to get over those memories. That and he was happy to be with you again. His most beloved person and the only thing that could heal even the deepest wounds.

You picked up the messy, scattered fragments of him and glued them together again until you created a picture of him which was beautiful and worthy of love, but most of all which, was always supposed to be yours. Your little picture to keep in your heart.

That is why Yoongi cries. Because he is relieved to know that he is yours.

“Yoongi, I feel so happy”, you confess, laughing and sobbing at the same time.

“Me too, my princess”, he agrees, rubbing his hands up and down your back just to make sure that you are real. It wouldn’t be the first time that he tried to escape into his memories. So many times Yoongi tried to flee into his favourite moments with you and for just a few moments they brought solace to him until the torment of his state dragged him away again and he was reminded that you were far, far gone from him.

This time around you feel real. Your skin is soft and warm and your scent is real. And yet somehow Yoongi still doesn’t believe it. He just mended the connection with you and yet he is still scared that the torture wasn’t over yet.

He lifts his head, cradling your face in his tender, loving hands. His thumbs run over your cheekbones, his eyes race between yours.

“This is real, isn’t it? I won’t be dragged away again, will I?” he asks. Pleads.

“Dragged away?” you furrow your brows in worry, “my love, what happened in there?”

“I just don’t want to lose you again”, this is all he can confess for everything else tasted too bitter to allow it to grace his tongue.

“And you won’t. Oh my love”, you cup his cheeks and it feels real to Yoongi. New droplets of tears run down your cheeks, “I dreamed of you whenever I fell asleep. I was with you and you were healthy and in those moments, it felt so real until I woke again and you were gone.”

Yoongi feels short of breath. He doesn’t dare to imagine the possibility that somehow through destined connection you managed to meet in those moments. When he fled into his memories and you fled into your dreams, your souls still found a way to meet and that in those short moments of your endless torments, you were connected again.

“I thought of you too”, he confesses because maybe not speaking his thoughts out loud would hurt more, “I met you in my memories and we were happy until I was dragged away again and…” he lowers his eyes, “I don’t want to experience what I had to endure ever again. That’s all you have to know”, he whispers.

“Oh my beloved”, you press out, deepening the touch to his face and with it tilting his head up, “it’s all over now. You don’t have to hurt anymore and I don’t know have to hurt anymore and, and we won’t have to meet in dreams again.”

Yoongi widens his eyes.

“So you think?” he begins.

The connection he feels in your eyes seems to strengthen. You both feel breathless because of it and yet don’t want to look away.

“Maybe?” you answer him.

“My love”, he whispers shakily.

“It would make the memory of those long weeks easier to bear, wouldn’t it?” you say.

He nods his head, lips curling into an honest and warm smile.

You smile, leaning closer.

He meets you in the middle, eyes falling closed when you stub his nose with your own. Your fingers caress his cheeks and Yoongi is melting, caressing your face gently with the hopes that you feel as good as he does.

“That felt like heaven”, he whispers, “what we just did, I mean.”

“Yes, it did”, you agree, eyes closed and skin tingling from his touches.

“Sorry for the crying”, he jokes, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, same”, you say, “I think that we needed it. I feel so much better now.”

“Me too.”

Your stomach lets you know that it felt better as well. Better, which in your case meant, starved. All the tension keeping you fed is gone and your stomach is finally telling you how it is.

“Oh my god”, you gasp.

“That was so loud”, Yoongi says, opening his eyes just to look at you.

“I haven’t had a proper appetite for weeks. I think it’s biting me in the butt now”, you confess.

“Princess”, he says with slight disappointment in his voice.

“Don’t princess me, I was so worried for you that food made me want to throw up”, you say with your stomach rumbling again.

Yoongi touches it gently, rubbing his hand back and forth slowly.

“Should we get food, my love?” he asks you in a soft voice.

You nod your head, “yeah, I guess”, you murmur shyly.

“Yeah? That’s good, I can’t have my princess starving”, he says, making you giggle because he is so gentle and loving and that feels so good to experience.

And so it happens that you and Yoongi clean up together and get dressed in your warmest clothes to take the car to the gas station. And you wander through the place holding hands and giggling like little kids because it felt so goddamn nice to be here together. The clerk still remembered you and he greets you with a big smile and contrary to last year, Yoongi greets him back with a brighter smile, leaving him a big tip because he felt like it. Then he took the bag and your hand and left the gas station kissing your cheek and the clerk watched you with great awe. She must have done good things for his heart, he thought and then allowed the fifty bucks to slip into his pants pockets.

“It’s snowing”, Yoongi says once outside, twirling around before pulling you close with his hands on your waist, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is”, you say, touching him because this is all you wanted to do.

“Who would have thought that it will snow again. Right here” Yoongi says, “maybe this gas station is our spot.”

You smile, hooking your fingers behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. One Yoongi retorts happily, hugging you against him with his strong arms cradling you safely. You pull back, but stay close enough that your breaths intermingle into on united puff of white cloud.

“I wanna fucking spend eternity with you, Min Yoongi.”

“Good, ‘cause I wanna fucking spend eternity with you too, ___.”

You giggle and Yoongi smiles.

“And then each year we have to come to this gas station when it snows and kiss.”

“Deal”, Yoongi says, resting his forehead against yours.

Your eyes close at the same time. He cups your cheek, you do the same to him.

“Forever”, Yoongi whispers.

“Forever”, you promise him.

He kisses the tip of your nose, giggling when you reciprocate it. He makes you smile and kiss him again just because he is so adorable when he giggles.

“You’re so cute”, he says.

“You’re cuter”, you answer him.

“Mhm”, he lets out, opening his eyes, “we should probably leave now”, he whispers.

“Why?”

“There’s someone looking at us. He thinks that we’re cringe.”

“He’s cringe for thinking that”, you say, sending a look at the stranger. It flusters him to the point of looking away and trotting off. “Yeah exactly run away, you coward. I could make your brain come out of your nose if I wanted to”, you murmur.

“Okay, let’s not”, Yoongi says in a chuckle, tugging you with him gently, “let’s get you home before you commit magical murder at our spot.”

“In theory you started this trend when you punched off that guy’s head last year.”

“I only did that to keep you safe. Stop acting as if I did that just for fun”, he laughs, pulling you into him with his arm around your shoulder and his hand rubbing your upper arm.

“Be honest, you also did it to impress me.”

“And even if I did. Would that be so bad?”

You snicker, kissing his cheek. “No”, you say, “you’re so cool Yoongie Boongie.”

“This nickname is so silly”, he whispers, leaning in for a second kiss.

“You love it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do”, he says, blushing vividly when you kiss him a third and for now last time. You probably would have continued kissing his cheek if you hadn’t arrived by his car and therefore had to get inside.

Yoongi turns to you once in the car. Your eyes meet. It never gets boring. Connecting with him through nothing but a look. Each time you do, it becomes more exciting. 

Your bodies act at the same time. While Yoongi takes your face and leans in for a kiss, your body instinctively knew that it had to prepare for a kiss. Your eyes fall closed even before Yoongi’s lips touch yours and your heart is skipping beats after beats.

Yoongi and you moan into the kiss. The sound wasn’t for pleasure but for connection. To be with each other again leaves you unable to process it unless you make sounds. 

He leaves his seat and climb over the gear stick so he can sit on your lap. 

A loud honk startles you both.

His butt hit the steering wheel. He is halfway atop of you. 

“You think someone heard us?”

“Yeah probably. Who fucking cares.”

“Right”, he agrees, “but still, we have to go home.”

“You were the one who kissed me first.”

“I can’t stop. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

Yoongi cups your cheek and sit down on you with his right arm around your waist and his big hand on your hip. His crotch presses against your tummy. The lose sweats he wears are doing nothing to hide him from you. He currently feels so soft there. Softness against your tummy and his weight on your lap. This makes you feels so good that it gets hard to breathe.

“I want more kisses”, he says, running his right hand to your face to caress it. His eyes are switching between yours and your lips. The orange lights from outside make them sparkle. You forgot how incredibly cute his nose looks and how pretty he is up close. You are fighting for air once more.

“We should get home, shouldn’t we?” you tell him, feeling up his hips and butt.

“Why do you not want to kiss me?” he asks and his eyes fill with tears, “did I do some-”

You interrupt him with the most passionate kiss. Yoongi whimpers, pulling you closer instinctively. His head is turning and air is sparse. He hopes it always stays this way. He had to suffer through weeks of suffocation and yet it feels good to be sparse of air now that he is kissing you.

“You didn’t”, you whisper, “but people are so close.”

Yoongi’s eyes drift outside. Yours do the same. The gas station is only a few steps away. There are five people inside and the clerk. They live their lives while outside in the snowy parking lot, you and Yoongi share kisses on the passenger seat of his car.

Yoongi looks back at you. You are gazing up at him with a fond smile on your lips and your eyes lowered halfway.

“Too many people?” you ask him.

But he shakes his head, “just let me be with you.”

“What if they see us?”

“Then let them stare”, Yoongi says and pulls you back into a kiss.

“Yeah, let them stare”, you murmur, pulling his hips snug against your body.

Yoongi moans into you, chasing you with wiggles of his hips and his arms closing around you in a hug.

Somehow in the journey of becoming one again, you manage to climb to the backseats. And you manage to slide down your pants just far enough that your connection can become as deep as it can get. And once again, it wasn’t for pleasure but for connection. However, neither you nor he could deny how much more desire there was in the movement. Your connection was being mended again, but it was also obvious to both that the need for pleasure was slowly returning to you and him. 

Kiss breaks for air were spread throughout the heated moments and the once miserable sobs were replaced by breathy moans and gasps of each other’s names. Hands, once desperate to remember the language of touch, now grasp the other whenever bolds of warmth spread through your bodies. And eyes gaze at each other and meet hazy, intense pleasure in the gazes.

Your bodies and souls are slowly but surely healing. Your hearts are slowly but surely accepting that this was your reality again. That you and he were truly together again. And when that acceptance washed over you, you grabbed the handle and showed Yoongi how good you could love him while Yoongi forgot how to speak and trembled beneath you.

By the time you find your highs together, the windows are fogged up and snow covers the windscreen. And somehow, through the magical wonder of being with his soulmate, Yoongi’s once cold body managed to heat up enough that he felt warm to the touch. You also magically turned the hazard lights on without wanting to. They are now blinking and blinking and blinking away. 

You sink into Yoongi. Your hand slips from the window, only an imprint in the fog remains. The car is filled with your quickened breathing and the rhythmic clicking of the hazard lights as you recover. Yoongi caresses your back, basking in your scent. He feels so intoxicated when he is with you. For a short moment, he wonders how he managed to be with you in the past without feeling dizzy all the time. And then he pulls you closer and buries his nose in the crook of your neck just to get even more of your scent.

“I can’t stop”, he murmurs into you.

“Don’t apologise. Neither can I.”

“I’m so scared to wake up.”

“This isn’t a dream.”

“It feels like one.”

You lift your head and look into his eyes. The connection, like always, is intense and leaves you wanting for the moment to last forever.

“I know it’s not my memories, but what if they are? I’m scared that I’m remembering”, he confesses.

“This isn’t a memory, my beloved love.”

“So you feel like a dream. You actually do.”

“You feel like a dream too. But then”, you furrow your brows, “no. No you don’t feel like a dream, you feel like home.”

“Home?”

“Home means feeling safe and as if no obstacle is too big because you have a place to call home.”

“I’m your home?”

“You’re my home. I never had a home. At least not one which made me feel safe and where I could settle for the day. You’re my home and I wanna make sure that you are always well taken care of. That’s what you do with a well loved home, you take care of it and you make memories with it and you know that you'll always return to it no matter how far you go.”

“___.”

You smile, “you’re my home, Min Yoongi”, you whisper and add, “you’re my home and I’m your land. I think that’s nice to be.”

“___”, Yoongi presses out, “___ please don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t. I won’t ever leave you. You’re my home, remember?”

He nods his head and picks you up just to lie down on the backseat with you. He manages to do so in a way that allows him to nuzzle his face against your neck. He does so shuddering and with his fingers squeezing you.

“Please hold me for a while.”

And you do so gladly, finding refuge in the knowledge that the weight you feel on your chest tonight wasn’t because of heartbreaking failure but because of your healed and healthy Yoongi.  

You hold hands as he drives you home, just as you hold hands as you both carry the grocery bag to the kitchen. It wasn’t heavy, you just didn’t want to stop touching each other.

The estate was still asleep. Not that you tried calling out for the others, but they definitely would have already come running had they heard you come out of the garage chatting about the heavy snowfall.

You don’t mind that everyone is still sleeping. Perhaps you are even a little happy about it. All you really want to do is spend time with him. With your Yoongi. No other distraction. Just you and him. You wished for such a moment for way too long.

“I need to drink something, no joke, I’m so freaking thirsty”, you say once you are in the kitchen, hurrying to the sink to get some water.

“You really should. It’s good for you”, Yoongi says, working to empty the groceries in the meantime. He stores everything in the fridge, except for what you will need for your pasta.

“Do you think that I had a fever? I swear I had to have something, I’ve never been that thirsty before.”

“It could be. You were really hot when I held you.”

“Mhm”, you acknowledge him and then down two glasses of fresh water. You set down the glass with a sigh, “that felt good. Do you want a glass too?”

“No, I’m good. Come help me with the bacon, love.”

“Of course, what do you need?” you hurry to his side.

“Look, I don’t know if I can cut it alone. I need your help”, he says, making you snicker because you figure out instantly that it was all just a scheme.

“Poor boy, of course I can help”, you say, placing your hands over Yoongi’s to help him cut.

This only really lasts a second and then Yoongi is nudging you with his nose, giggling as he searches for your lips. You let him find you instantly, giggling just as much. The bacon sits forgotten instantly as you turn to hook your arms behind Yoongi’s head and he twirls you just so he can lift you up on the kitchen island.

“Mhm, my prince”, you break the kiss, “will we ever get to cook?”

“I don’t know”, Yoongi rubs his cheek against yours like a cuddly cat, “can you feel my lashes?” he asks, tickling your cheek with them by blinking quickly.

“Yes, I can”, you squeak out, squishing his cheeks, “why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, I wanted to test it out”, he says, “do me”, he orders, leaning in to present his cheek to you.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking cute, I can’t fucking breathe”, you say, leaning in to connect your lashes with his cheek, “and?” you ask after blinking quickly.

“I felt it”, he scratches the spot you touched, “it tickled.”

“Yeah”, you say and giggle, “Yoongi my cutie Boongie why are you so cute?”

“I always was.”

“Oh? So we’re not denying it anymore?”

Yoongi glances at you sheepishly, leaning his weight on your thighs so he can snatch a kiss from you.

“Just tonight. I haven’t felt that alive in weeks.”

“Quite literally.”

He laughs, nodding his head in passionate agreement.

“I’m happy that you are, you know? And I’ll keep telling you that I am a million times more.”

“Good, I’ll keep telling you that I’m the luckiest man ever”, he says, picking you up from the counter just so he can hold you instead.

“You are?” you ask him, legs wrapped around his waist and hands tracing his neck and shoulders.

He nods his head, eyes lighting up as they race over your face. He likes that he has to look up at you that way. Because he does. He looks up at you so very much. You did all of that for him. You searched heaven and hell for a cure. You did that because you loved him so much that you didn’t want to let go. Yoongi always thought that he was destined to never experience such a love in his life. But here you are. Holding onto him as you are in his arms and he can look up at you.

“You’re so sweet”, you whisper, cupping his cheeks in your soft palms.

Yoongi leans into your touch as his eyes fall closed. He turns his head, placing a kiss on your palm and afterwards, he rubs the tip of his nose against it. Slow and gentle. To really savour the feeling of you.  

“Mhm”, Yoongi hums in a smile, setting you down on the floor after kissing you once more. He swears that this is the last time. Yes, he will break that promise ten seconds from now when you try to cut the bacon again and he steals a sneaky kiss instead.

You squeak and giggle, “fleeing” from him by leaning into the kiss. Yoongi steals it successfully, giggling deeply as he rubs his nose against your cheek. You are so happy. So, so happy that you somehow manage to turn on the stove. Yoongi notices it instantly and turns it off again.

Your eyes meet.

“Did I do that?”

“Yeah.”

“But I didn’t even do anything.”

“It’s okay. I turned it off again.”

You gnaw on your lower lip shyly.

“Hey, it’s seriously okay.”

“Yoongi, I think I can’t control my magic”, you confess, “Meredith told me that I have lots of chaos in my head.”

“She did?”

You nod your head, “I can’t control my magic. I keep turning on lights and, and stuff. But only since you’re back. Before that, it was always…it was only in bad moments and when I needed to save you.”

“You triggered your magic when I was dying and then kept pushing yourself to do stuff you weren’t ready for yet. No wonder it is chaotic right now. Don’t worry, my love. I’m here now and we can fix this.”

“Can we really? I’m so scared that I’ll hurt you or the others because I can’t control myself.”

“You won’t hurt me. Trust me, nothing will hurt as much as-”, he hesitates and lets out a breathy laugh, sending you a helpless look.

You understand and cup his cheeks, caressing them softly.

“You won’t have to return to that place. I promise you.”

He nods his head, pressing out a small, “okay.” Then he lowers his eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. I just…it will take some time not to remember how it felt.”

“And I’ll be with you the entire time, so don’t hold back on crying or, or asking for help. Yes?”

“Yes”, he whispers and rests his forehead against yours, “thank you.”

“Don’t. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Guys?”

You and Yoongi turn upon hearing Jungkook’s voice.

“Holy shit, since w-when? Oh my fucking god”, Jungkook gets out and then he is already by your side, having both you and Yoongi in a tight hug, “you’re finally awake oh my god”, he chokes out and sobs loudly, “you are finally awake! Oh god, I can’t believe this i-is real.”

“You’re acting as if you didn’t talk to me a few hours ago”, Yoongi laughs, rubbing Jungkook’s back.

“A few hours??” Jungkook lifts his head, showing you his teary eyes, “it’s been three days.”

“What? Three days?”

Jungkook steps back, nodding his head with his brows furrowed in seriousness.

“You guys slept for three whole days. We kept on checking on you, but you were both out cold and nothing we did could wake you. Oh god, I was so scared that you were gone. I can’t believe that you’re here again.”

“Three days”, you say, looking at Yoongi and realising that he is doing the same, “no wonder we feel that done.”

“Yeah”, Yoongi agrees and chuckles.

“I guess you guys really needed that sleep. You both look a lot better than you did three days ago”, Jungkook says, reaching for both of you, “I’m sorry, I gotta make sure that you’re actually here. Holy fuck”, he says and spills tears, “oh god, I want to cry.”

“You’re so cute, Kookie”, you say, reaching up to wipe his tears, “wanna join us in making food?”

“Yes of course. What are you making?”

“Pasta. Yoongi said that he knows how to make an authentic Carbonara.”

“Oh, that sounds yummy”, Jungkook says and wraps his arms around both your waists, squishing you together that way.

It cracks both of you up.

“I’m so happy”, Jungkook murmurs, face buried in the nook between you and Yoongi’s bodies, “oh my god, you guys don’t smell sick anymore. Just happy. I missed this so much.”

“You’re adorable”, Yoongi chuckles, ruffling Jungkook’s hair, “oh? Your hair’s grown quite a lot.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna cut it. I was so sad hyungie, I thought that I’d never see you again.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, kiddo.”

“Good”, Jungkook mumbles and then squeezes your waists, “oh god, I want to merge with you guys. Let’s merge, so we never lose each other again.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll see if I can find something in my books”, you joke.

“No”, Jungkook shakes his head, “you’re forbidden from even opening a spell book for the next five decades. I’m not letting you get hurt again.”

You laugh, “okay, okay. Message received. Gosh Kookie, I can’t cut the bacon if you’re holding us like that.”

Jungkook thankfully lets go, but he stays close enough, changing between back hugging Yoongi and back hugging you, all whilst nuzzling his nose into the respective shoulder. You don’t mind that he was here now. On the contrary. He gives the best back hugs and he radiates such happiness, that your and Yoongi’s happiness feels ten times stronger too.

“Did you hear already by the way?” he addresses Yoongi, “___ has magic.”

“I know, I heard when she talked about it to me.”

“So you heard everything?” Jungkook gasps.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder, “yes Kookie, I heard you crying over me. I’m sorry I couldn’t just wake up then and there to hold you.”

“Oh god Yoongi”, Jungkook pouts, “I’m such a crybaby, I cried so much. Sorry for making you listen to it.”

“Don’t apologize. Hey, come get your kiss, Kookie.”

Jungkook leans in, giving Yoongi’s waist a tight squeeze the moment Yoongi’s lips connect with his cheek in a sweet kiss. Jungkook pulls back, exhaling just a little shakily.

“See? That’s so much better than crying, yeah?” Yoongi talks softly.

“Yeah, so much better”, Jungkook says, blushing shyly. He giggles and steals one more kiss from Yoongi even if that surprises the latter and he ends up stumbling from the force of Jungkook pulling him closer.

“Kookie”, Yoongi pulls back with a chuckle, “not so rough, I’m not back to full strength yet.”

“Sorry, I just missed you”, Jungkook whispers, “and you too”, he turns to you, attacking your cheek with a big smooch.

You giggle, leaning in to chase his sweet kiss.

“You’re so cute, Kookie.”

“Heh”, Jungkook lets out, resting his chin on your shoulder afterwards to sway your bodies from side to side slowly.

In the meantime, you and Yoongi fry the bacon together. You put it in the pan and Yoongi stirs. It is the perfect teamwork and continues as you prepare the eggs together. Yoongi cracks them while you stir.

“Did ___ already tell you about her grandma, hyung?” Jungkook asks, waddling behind you as you hurry to get the salt.

“She didn’t”, Yoongi sneaks a glance at you, “didn’t you tell me that she died a few years ago?”

“She did, but the craziest thing happened to me. To us”, you say, pointing at Jungkook, “we were out of options and felt hopeless so I told him about my grandma and that she definitely was a witch but that I never got the chance to talk to her about it. And then Kookie suggested that we might try to look for clues in her house with the help of my memories and so we travelled to my memories. And we actually managed to do it but then the craziest thing happened and she actually addressed us and talked to us.”

“Really?” Yoongi sounds genuinely surprised.

“Yeah”, Jungkook nods his head vigorously, “she could even see us and touch us, hyung. And, and I wasn’t a vampire anymore, just human.”

“You were?”

“He was”, you continue, “and we ate her raspberry pie. It was so good, wasn’t it?”

“It was heaven, so yummy and sweet. Hyung, I had a heartbeat”, Jungkook says, “it felt so good. It was racing so much whenever I looked at ___.”

“Kookie, the hell?” you gasp as you fluster, “don’t say that.”

Jungkook grins sheepishly, squeezing you softly before he kisses your cheek lovingly.

“Huh”, Yoongi lets out and scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. He turns to prepare the eggs in the hot water, “I can’t believe you guys managed to enter The Plains on your first try.”

“The Plains? What’s that?”

“It’s afterlife for witches. It’s between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead. You won’t believe it, but Namjoon was the one who created it long before we became vampires. He said it was to make sure that even in death we could continue to live together”, Yoongi lifts his head, staring at the ceiling with sad eyes, “yeah well, we can see how that turned out”, he whispers, before shaking his head to get rid of the sadness on his voice, “whatever. My point is, that it’s really fucking hard to enter The Plains as a living witch, let alone to bring a vampire with you”, Yoongi looks at you, letting his eyes run over your features, “you’re actually really fucking impressive, princess. Like honestly.”

“Oh uhm”, you feel your cheeks heat up, “I didn’t even know that it was that difficult to do. I just really wanted to see my grandmother again.”

“You can be proud of what you did. It took me a year to master it”, Yoongi says, “you have serious potential, I mean it.”

“No, I still have so much to learn. I barely even know anything and sometimes my magic overwhelms me and I don’t know what to do.”

“Undermine your talents again and I’ll whoop your ass”, Yoongi warns, “I mean it when I tell you that you have potential. I trained hundreds of witches in my time, but only a handful managed to teach themselves the level of magic you did. In the span of nine weeks, if I may add.”

“I think pure spite and anxiety kept me going”, you say.

“Princess”, Yoongi warns.

“Thank you”, you assure him, “I think that I still need a little time to realise it, but I’m a bad bitch.”

“You’re such a bad bitch, no joke”, Jungkook agrees, nodding his head vigorously.

Yoongi smiles, “you’ll get even better with proper training. I’m sure that in a few weeks time, you will have mastered even more magic.”

“You’ll help, won’t you?”

“If you want me to.”

“Of course I do. Who else gets to say that she’s getting lessons from the OG witch and OG vampire?”

“Wow, are these the only criteria which make me a good teacher?”

“No. I can kiss you like this too”, you say, sealing a sweet kiss from him, “and like this and this and also like this”, you say between kisses. The kind which melt Yoongi into a complete puddle of giddiness. “That’s the best part of it.”

Yoongi smiles, “I’m not the OG witch by the way. I was just a student”, he whispers.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the original witch in my eyes”, you whisper, kissing his lips.

Yoongi smiles into the kiss, caressing your waist. He continues touching you when you pull back, gazing at you with love drunk eyes.

“It also means that we won’t have to lose ___ to age”, Jungkook says, “she’ll stay young like Meredith and her coven.”

You widen your eyes. Yoongi seems just as surprised.

“I didn’t even realise that yet”, you confess.

“Neither did I.”

You turn to Yoongi, taking his hands. Yoongi pulls them against his chest, eyes racing between yours.

“My love”, he chokes out.

You smile, “it’s actually eternity, my Yoongi Boongie.”

He laughs. You laugh. And Jungkook laughs too, picking the both of you up just to twirl through the kitchen with you.

“I can’t believe that this is real”, he laughs, “I love you guys so much.”

And as Yoongi picks you up after Jungkook set you down and then begins kissing you, you know that this right here was just the beginning of something eternally good.

[coffeeghoulie]

Could you maybe do "may i have this dance?" and "you’re my whole world, you know." With Swiss and Dew?

ooooh absolutely! It's been a hot minute since I've written Swiss/Dew, hope you enjoy!

prompts from this prompt list

Swiss hums to himself, something formless and improvised as the smell of toast fills the kitchen. It's ungodly early, or late, or however you want to think about it. None of his other packmates are awake. He had checked the packbond before slinking to the kitchen. Swiss had woken up hungry, had carefully untangled himself from his fire ghoul's sprawling limbs, making his way quietly to the kitchen, where he's now waiting for the toaster.

The tile's cold under the pads of his paws, and he shifts his weight, swaying slowly in the warm light of the fixture above the sink as he waits. Swiss grabs the jar of peanut butter and a butter knife, tail swishing lazily behind him.

The toaster pops, and he collects his prize. The fire in him is strong enough that he can just grab the hot toast straight from the toaster without flinching. Swiss keeps humming, spreading the peanut butter on it, the heat making it get all melty and soft. He throws the knife in the sink with a clatter and puts the peanut butter away, tail flicking as he takes a huge bite of his toast.

He turns and startles. Dew's leaning against the doorframe, his hair mussed and copper eyes barely open.

"Left me in a cold ass bed," He grumbles. His tail's wrapped around his leg like a kit self-soothing. Dew's wearing one of Swiss's own shirts, oversized and draped off of one shoulder.

"Oh, spitfire, didn't mean to wake you," Swiss hums. He tries desperately to lick the peanut butter from the roof of his mouth.

"You didn't," Dew says. He takes a step into the kitchen, hissing as the cold floor seems to bring him to more clarity. "You were humming something, it sounded nice. What was it?"

Swiss shrugs, setting his toast down on a plate. "Makin' it up as I went. I'm glad you liked it."

Dew trills softly. He wraps his arms around Swiss's middle, pressing his forehead to the multi-ghoul's chest like a cat seeking affection. Swiss chuckles and presses a kiss between Dew's little horns.

"You want me to keep humming, spitfire?" Swiss asks into Dew's hair.

He doesn't verbally answer, just nods into Swiss's chest.

"One caveat, sweetheart," Swiss says, flashing a grin down at the fire ghoul.

Dew mrrps in question, glancing up at the mischief in Swiss's gold eyes.

Swiss gently takes his arms and unwinds them from around his waist. He takes a step back, holding out one of his hands in invitation, arms open. "May I have this dance?" He says.

Dew scoffs, but sets his hand in Swiss's, the multi-ghoul's dwarfing his. The skin on skin is warm and Dew melts into it. Swiss pulls him in gently, setting Dew's arms on his shoulders before resting his hands on Dew's hips. He begins to hum again, making it up as he goes.

Dew's eyes flutter shut as Swiss begins to sway, guiding him along with him. Swiss bends down, hooks his chin over Dew's shoulder so they're cheek to cheek. His stubble scrapes softly against the sharp line of Dew's jaw, humming straight into the fire ghoul's ear.

Swiss curls his tail around Dew's, like if he could hollow himself out and let the fire ghoul crawl into his ribcage, it still wouldn't be close enough. Dew, for what it's worth, shares the sentiment and presses himself closer until they're pressed together from chest to knee.

They dance like that, Swiss humming softly in the ghoul kitchen, the outside world quiet and dark, peanut butter toast forgotten.

Eventually, when Swiss's improvisation tapers out, they just dance in the silence, and Swiss leans in closer until his lips brush against the shell of Dew's ear.

"Thank you, spitfire," he breathes, lips quirking up in a smile as the tip of his ear flicks. "I know you're usually not one for this."

"For you I am," Dew answers, honest and open in his exhaustion. Swiss laughs softly, joyously.

"You're my whole world, you know?" he says softly, yet still so brightly. He turns, presses a kiss to the line of Dew's cheekbone.

Dew doesn't respond except to purr, rusty and louder than Swiss's humming. He rubs his cheek against Swiss's, eyes shut. "I know," he says, and Swiss knows it's his way of saying I love you.

Swiss smiles, kisses his cheek again. They dance in the kitchen, the sun beginning to rise out past the window.

[arhiweebs]

Asmodeus

Hellfire Newt Syrup.

A series

Warnings: it’s smut. If you don’t want it. Don’t read it.

__________

As you checked on the brothers , making sure they’re alright. You finally made your way down to Asmo.

His room was dimly lit. Except for the minor moonlight that shined through his window. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Asmo?” You stepped in his room closing the door behind you and looking around. “Asmodeus this isn’t funny come out. Are you okay?”

You saw a figure in the shadows. Then pretty pinkish orangeish eyes glowing in the darkness. “Oh~ I love it when you say my name like that, darling. It just sounds so lovely rolling off your tongue like that~” he cooed from the shadows.

A shiver running down your spine as the room temperature seemed to drop significantly. A cold cloud breath started to form each time you breathed out.

“I-i came to check on you.”

He giggled. “No need for excuses MC. Of course you just wanted to see my beautiful face. You did come straight to me didn’t you?”

You didn’t. “Of course.”

He slowly emerged from the shadows. He was in his demon form. The light shined across his face and he was wearing a frown. “Tsk Tsk Tsk. I don’t like liars MC. Liars are ugly. And you….my pretty little doll~ are the farthest thing from ugly. Of course you’re not as gorgeous as me but your a close second.”

You didn’t respond… stumbling back a bit, now leaning against his bed as he came closer.

His wings were extended. He was clear her was trying to charm you.

“Asmo you know that doesn’t work on me.”

“Au contraire mon amour. I’m simply curious as to why the syrup didn’t affect you as much as it did all of us. I mean you are a DEMON.”

You gulped. Looking at him. He was only inches from you now. “I can smell the list radiating off of you. You can’t hide that from me sweetheart. Maybe if I reach in, pull out your heart, tear it open, and have a look inside of know for sure?” He whispered to you. Licking his lips.

“Asmo.. i-…”

You trailed off looking at him in a haze. Letting yourself too succumb to the lust you were trying so hard to hold back. You’re supposed to be their attendant. Watching over them, not falling into stupid little accidents WITH them.

He looked at you. Trailing his fingers down your cheek. His touch was so so cold. It felt so good against your hot body. Which only grew hotter by the second. The smile he gave you was something scary as he then gripped your neck which had you choke a bit.

He pouted. “I’m more upset that you tried to hide it from me. Don’t you love me Mc? We don’t hide things from each other.” He said leaning down getting close to your lips but not actually kissing you. “Right?” He pulled back and walked away some, letting you go which had you damn near grasping for him and his touch.

He giggled. “Look at you~”

“Stop holding back.” You looked at him. Which only made him sigh in return.

“I guess you know me better than I expected.”

“You’re being a hypocrite.”

He stopped and looked at you. “Fine.” He was in front of you in a batter of seconds and he was kissing you hard. It felt like your body had burst into flames the second he touched you. The room got so hot. But his skin was so cold and it felt so good.

He ripped your clothes off which made you blush in shock. Completely shocked. But then you remembered Asmo 100% has the capability to body slam Beel if he wanted to, he just chooses to be dainty.

He trailed his hands down your body smiling as he felt each of your curves. He kissed over your shoulders and chest as he pushed two fingers inside you with no warning. You yelped which only made him smile.

He started radiating some pink haze. Whatever it was only made your effects worse. You whined as you started to drench juices out your body. He barely started and you already arched your back in an orgasm. He smiled at you. “See how fun it can be which you relinquish yourself to me darling?”

You whimpered as he curled his fingers inside you and pumped them. “Fuckk~” you whined out throwing your head back. He looked completely unbothered. As if fingering you like this was mere child’s play. Easy work.

“Oh~ Mc you look so pretty~ have you Beel following that skin care routine I told you about? I can tell!” He giggled. Pressing his fingers down more inside you.

He knew exactly where to go. How to turn, twist, or press his fingers in a way that had your eyes rolling back. He pressed down on your stomach and hummed as he pumped his fingers a few more times having your second orgasm rip through you. That haze fog of lust he had only grew bigger. Soon filling up his entire room.

He giggled and pulled out his fingers. Quickly moving to press the digits into your mouth making you taste yourself. You sucked on his fingers panting a bit. He pulled out his fingers and looked at his hand and frowned. “Aww.. MC you didn’t save me any. That’s so selfish of you.”

He rolled his eyes dipping down and taking a long nice lick to your Pussy which had you shivering. He groaned and kissed your clit coming back up and licking his lips. “Delicious~”

You whimpered and reached a hand down to rub your clit. He didn’t seem to like that based off his facial expression. “How rude. Here I am giving you a GIFT and you’re doing this. Tsk Tsk Tsk. Maybe I’ll sit you on my dick and do my makeup just to make you suffer.” He rolled his eyes and moving over to the side of the bed. He was fiddling with something. Came back and stuffed a vibrator inside you and turned it on. He didn’t say anything just continued in his business.

You moaned out loudly. Your eyes fluttering and your nails scratching up your body. He was rustling with something. Your hands trailing up and down your body as you pathetically attempted to grind against nothing. You went to touch yourself again only for Asmo to grab your hand and restrain you. He tied both your hands with a pretty pink ribbon to his headboard.

“There we go.”

“A-asmo!” You yelled out as a third orgasm came. Your body shaking from overstimulation. Leaking so much cum and slick that the vibrator pushed itself right out your pussy. You panted and Asmo took the vibrator and turned it off.

“What? You think Lucifer learned those nice knots all by himself?”

Your head rested itself on the bed and you pulled a bit in the restraints. Just wondering how tight it was. No use.

He let you breathe and take a minor break as he discarded his own clothes. Watching as your stomach raised and lowered from your breathing. He climbed ontop of you. Kissing up your body as he did so. Which had tingles going up your body. Who knew if it was just from him, his fog, or the syrup.

You lifted your head up. He reached over you and placed pillows behind your head to keep your head up. He crawled up your body and straddled your chest. Taking his dick and tapping your face before sliding his dick into your mouth.

He hummed rolling his tip over your tongue really coating it in your saliva. You stuck your tongue out for him and sucked in his dick. Bobbing your head best you could. He patted your head and grabbed the headboard pressing his dick down your throat making you gag. He giggled and pulled back.

Moving back down he lifted your legs and hooked them over his hips as he lined himself up and slid himself inside you with a soft moan. “Oh MC~ you feel so good. You know that? Perfectly clenching around me like that. Honeslty.. you’re so cute I could just tear you to pieces~” he giggled and began fucking you.

It didn’t take long for him to get the Rhythm. He would bottom out. Enough to press your hips together and rock them nicely. His dick magically adjusted itself to fit your body perfectly. Making it the perfect fit and filling you up so nicely. You pulled at your restraints and moaned out loudly. Gasping and panting.

He was surprisingly rough with it. His hips slapping against yours. And sounds of squelching filled the room. You had so much slick it made him so easy to just slip and slide in. He moaned loudly. Hearing him moan sent shivers down your spine and a fourth orgasm to spring out of you.

Your legs shaking. His body was able to shift to your needs. Being able to tell when you were almost all done. His dick pulsed. You could feel the effect of the syrup wearing off. The pink fog started to disperse. One more orgasm was all it would take. He paused for a second. Leaning up to untie the ribbons and you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you close as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Moaning into his ear. “Let’s finish you up shall we hun?” He rubbed your back and rocked your hips together.

He held you in a close missionary position. His thrusts going deeper making sure to hit your sweet spot each time. Feeling the was your clench and how your moans got louder till you were moaning curses.

He kissed your shoulder as your final orgasm came. It was quick, you weren’t exactly over the last one. Such overstimulation your body not ready for all this. Your body shook and tears fell from your eyes as it was also the hardest orgasm of the night. You cried out his name grinding against him hard as you came. Panting hard he gently let you go and pulled out of you. You whined from the loss. He rubbed his dick a few times and came on your stomach. Moaning pretty loudly as he unleashed his load. He certainly wasn’t shy about his moans.

“Oh mc! Are you okay? You did perfectly hun. Here let’s get you cleaned up mkay? <3 and I’ll promise to cuddle and kiss you allll night.”

[byegonnagocrynow]

An ode to the love lost

And I sit here, burned by grief of what could've been only if one of us would accumulate the courage to live our truth.

'I wonder what it would be like to run my fingers through his curls'- I didn't realise I had voiced that thought. Maybe I said it in a released sigh or a whisper, maybe i yelled, either way I don't remember. It was a harmless fleeting attraction, or so i thought. He was pretty, yes, but he was also beautiful and intriguing in its highest sense. The kind of beauty uncharted waters offer. Mesmerizing, even. He'd leave you in a trance once you set your eyes on him. Or maybe you were exaggerating. Maybe, as pointed by many to you, you simply put him on a pedestal and romanticised him. Maybe he was just another boy with toned muscles, a smile that could light up cities of darkness and hair so tangled that hung loose on top of his forehead. His eyes, oh God, his eyes! His eyes were in resemblance of late autumn leaves that brought in the joy of it being cold and festive again. His eyes were the shade of brown that feels safe enough to confide in. Those irises alone would make you want to confess your dirtiest sins, in assurance that you'd be forgiven regardless. Yet, they were treacherous enough to doubt. The kind that swirl like sweet nectar. Brown, copper eyes that held in some kind of Greek tragedy. His eyes were gentle, almost vulnerable, like a fleeting gazelle's, one fleeing from potential predators. You'd see him staring right into your soul and you couldn't help but look away. Until you'd look back at that familiar warmth of christmas socks and hot chocolate on a chilly morning while you wrote letters to your lost lover by the fire. Destined for a grand tragedy. You'd look back, timid to hold eye contact, wondering what if it was all too good to be true? Men weave beautiful blankets of lies, you were aware. But you'd find his eyes breathless, as if after a passionate kiss and you'd know. You'd know that boyish grin by heart. You'd have it memorised as if it were beats you've hummed for months. You'd know he was luring you but you had known for a while now that that allure wasn't one of malice. What you wouldn't know was if he'd ever reciprocate this affection, and that would terrify you. So much that you'd never bring yourself to confess. And just like that, a love that could've been one for the history books, died suffocating under the ruins of ancient cities.

[anachilles]

Hi! Could I request “You’re cold. Come here.” with buck and bucky??

you certainly can! hope you liiiiike ✨ -> prompt lists i'm currently accepting requests from: [ x ] [ x ] <-

Whiskey burns hot and foreign on Gale's tongue, at the back of his throat and all the way down, and he does his best not to let his expression twist.

It's the first night of what's been promised to be a long and lasting freedom.

He can't explain why he chooses to imbibe then, after years of easily held, steadfast sobriety, only hesitating for half a beat while glancing at John's arm and the proffered hip flask before taking it from him. The war's over. They're going home. It's as good a time as any, right?

The base is alight, not only with the leftover, now useless, flares the ground crews are appropriating for fireworks out on the tarmac, but also with drunken laughter filtering through the music the air seemed to be filled with. It's alight with joy. With optimism they'd been bottling up for months, maybe years, even, but daren't let take root and risk blinding them. All covering up a bone-deep, underlying sadness that dare not speak its name, not now.

They'd let themselves have tonight, at the very least, to celebrate each other and all that had made it before toasting and honouring the memory of those that hadn't.

Sitting here, alone with John on the balcony of the Tower, overlooking the entire airfield, it's hard not to feel an affection for it. During those twenty-odd missions they'd ran, from a birds-eye view, it had come to mean safety in the knowledge that they were in the homestretch. That they could scratch of another one and allow themselves the luxury of considering they could be making it out of this thing alive.

Passing the flask back to John, Gale watches his face carefully, pensive and unnaturally subdued as it seemed to be. He worries that John's missing out on the party on his account, choosing instead to follow Gale out into the night rather than stay back with the men and celebrate properly. He'd tried to insist that John stay, after Gale and he went and put in a bit of lip service having a couple of drinks with what was left of the crew towards the start of proceedings, but when Gale made a move to leave, he was quick on his heels behind him.

It wasn't that Gale is sad exactly, the brusque, three letter word painting a much too broad a stroke over the nuanced complication of what he was feeling. Too nuanced to work through in all that menagerie on the ground, or in the club, at least.

There's quiet understanding in how John catches him looking then, intercepting the stolen, too-long glance, and offering Gale a twitch of a telling smile in return.

Some time later, they find themselves wandering into the depths of the moon-drenched woods, the music and lights and voices of the base growing more and more muffled as they left it further and further behind them.

He's not sure what makes John stop, a handful of steps behind him, but when he notices the absence of his footfall snapping twigs and bracken underfoot, Gale pauses. The brief silence is loaded; any type of silence from John likely means something. Under the shroud of darkness all his senses heightened, on-guard and alert. Unmoving, he focuses his eyes and tries scanning around him. He can't even hear the sound of John's breathing to use as a guide.

"Is this a game?" he asks out into the emptiness, anticipatory, his breath slightly shallower as, stupidly, his heart starts to race despite knowing he's in no danger here. The worst you're going to get in an English wood is a grey squirrel, for God's sake. "What're we playin'?"

He's unsure whether he wants to smile or not.

After an extended few seconds, as if from out of nowhere, there's a breath against the back of Gale's neck, exactly nailed on that secret little spot nobody on earth but one person knows about. A pair of lips meet the full-body shiver that races up his spine with the shock of it, and are quickly displaced from their perch as Gale swivels around.

When he sees John's face in front of him once more, his eyes are suddenly heavy with the weight of something unspeakable, his smirk devilish in the shadows of the moonlight, totally unapologetic, even more so when he clocks the sudden flush that had risen to Gale's cheeks.

His heart is racing, he's blushing, but even still Gale simply raises an indignant, demanding eyebrow. Challenging. All the while his gaze tries for scrutiny, but inevitably trips up every time it stops to linger on John's mouth.

Maybe Gale, maybe they both, truly needed to get away from the commotion of the party. Maybe one followed the other on blind trust and a general, innocent desire for only each other's company. Maybe they both wordlessly understood exactly what they were following each other into the woods for, this night of all nights.

John lets out a breath and steps up closer into Gale's space, his lips lowering so that they were hovering teasingly close to the other man's own, but not touching. Gale doesn't move, digs in his heels and doesn't even flinch, posture rigid with control as he let his own breath ghost out against John's lips.

John breaks the deadlock look they mutually hold, his eyes flitting down to Gale's neck and his hand rises to follow, fingertips tracing the trail of goosebumps visible.

He smiles knowingly, bringing his hand away and slipping it into the delicate curve of Gale's waist, gesturing down towards the evidence of his past efforts.

“Ah, look. See, you’re cold, aren't you? Come here...”

[queerofthedagger]

Hullo~ with much joy I saw that you're doing December fic gifts 😍 (first of all, very kind and generous, and a lovely idea!)

I would love to request a dreamling fic if i may!

Several prompts seem similarly appealing and are essentially just different flavours of the same thing?

So my favourite is of course from the fluff list: #37 "Because i love you goddamnit!". But Fluff only becomes sweeter with a bit of angst, so essentially mixed with the same prompt (#32 from the Angst list)? Maybe a bit of #32 from the drabble list: "I think I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified"?

Does that make sense? I hope you find a way to have fun with it anyway ♡

If you do decide to write this, could it be gifted to me (AHopefulSun) on A03 please? 🥺👉👈

Anyway, once again thank you very much and happy holiday time ♡

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I changed the dialogue a bit to make it work, and I'm afraid it ended quite heavily on the fluffier side of things, but there is a hint of angst? 😄<3

(The languages Hob uses are Basque, Croatian, Hebrew, Catalan, and Gaelic; it'll make sense in a hot second, I promise 😄)

Speaking in Tongues

“Are you sure that you’re not cold?” Hob asks, five minutes into their walk back to the New Inn.

The street they are walking down is quiet, snow blanketing this corner of London in glittering jewels of white, and something treacherous flutters in Dream’s stomach at the open concern.

“I believe to have told you before that I do not experience temperatures as you do.”

Hob stops him with a light touch to his wrist; Dream feels it all the way down his spine.

“And I believe I’ve told you before that it doesn’t mean you can’t be uncomfortable,” Hob says, exasperated affection pressed into the corners of his mouth. He turns Dream with another touch and begins to unwind the scarf from around his neck.

“What—” Dream starts, but the words get stuck in his throat when Hob looks at him, smiling and bright-eyed, cheeks flushed from mulled wine and the cold.

Hob had insisted to take him to the Christmas market in Camden, much as he is now insisting to wrap his scarf around Dream’s neck, calloused fingers brushing the skin of his throat. Which is to say, he hadn’t let Dream protest, no matter that Dream did not want to do so, neither then nor now.  

“I know, I know, self-knitted isn’t really your style, and dark blue isn’t part of your usual colour scheme,” Hob says, and his hands rest on Dream’s chest even as his expression seems to grow bashful. “But at least I have a proper winter jacket, and if you really don’t want to wear it, not even until we’re back at the Inn, you obviously don’t—”

Dream catches Hob’s wrist just as he is about to pull away, heat flaring in his chest that is both terrifying and thawing something ancient he thought long dead. “No, I would—I would like to keep it. For now.”

For as long as you’ll let me have it, he does not say.

Hob tilts his head. “You do not look certain of that.”

“I am. I merely… You are much more likely to get cold than I am; why would you give me this?”

It is a loaded question, is about more than a scarf and Hob’s gentle tenacity.

Silence stretches for longer than it should. Hob is looking past Dream until his shoulders straighten with a shuddering breath.

When he speaks, his voice is too steady to sound light-hearted. “Because I love you, and I want you to have it. To know it.”

He states it like a fact, something axiomatic and indelible; night follows day and humans dream. The sun keeps rising, and Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless.

Dream swallows, helpless, even as Hob’s eyes stay fixed on him.

“Does this not scare you?” he asks, voice hoarse as the words trip off his tongue.

“Of course, it does; it’s terrifying. That does not change the truth of it, though, does it?”

Dream searches Hob’s face; he is not sure for what. He searches for his own courage and finds it in the warmth of a scarf wrapped around him with care. Finds it in the memory of outrageously sweet coffee orders and cups of mulled wine, in stories told over centuries, and in an Inn built for him. In Hob waiting, always waiting for Dream to catch up.

He admits, “It is terrifying to me, too,” and watches as Hob’s expression morphs through shock and disbelief, finally settling on caution. “You did not expect reciprocation.”

Hob huffs a laugh that borders on hysterical. “I—no, I did not. The last time I dared to call you my friend, you stormed out on me.”

“I apologised; I—”

“No, I know, I’m not…” Hob sighs, and beneath the lingering caution, a hint of a smile starts to form.

A part of Dream itches to vanish into the safety of his own realm, to wrap layers of iron-clad protection back around himself and hide the soft, tender, human pieces once more.

Stepping closer, Hob slips his hands inside Dream’s coat. His palms are warm on Dream’s waist, and it calms his racing, non-existent heart.

“If I kiss you, would it scare you off for good?” Hob asks. His smile is solid now, warm as if sun-soaked in a way only he ever is.

Dream finds that his terror is melting beneath Hob’s touch like snow in a child’s hand. Distantly, he thinks that should scare him. He also finds that he is quite exactly where he wants to be.

“You may; under one condition.”

Hob laughs, his eyes glistening with it. “Of course. Anything.”

Swaying forward, Dream leans into him and closes his eyes. “Tell me again.”

Hob’s fingers dig into Dream’s skin. When he speaks, his breath fans across Dream’s mouth.

“I love you,” Hob says, voice low with the weight of it. “I love you so much that it burns, and I will tell you as many times as you want. I will tell you in languages that I have never used to tell—”

Dream kisses him, falling into it, inevitable; Hob tastes like winter nights and spices, cinnamon and anise and orange. His mouth opens beneath Dream’s as if he has been waiting for this through all his lifetimes.

“Maite Zaitut.”

Pushing closer, Dream cards his fingers into Hob’s hair. “Again.”

“Volim te.”

He bites Hob’s bottom lip and swallows the sound it elicits, tucking it away beneath his ribs for safekeeping. “Again. Please.”

“Ani ohevet otcha. T’estimo. Tá grá agam ort.”

Any more of this, and Dream fears he might choke on his affection. “You know a great many languages to say this in.”

Hob smiles. “Come home with me, and I might tell you why.”

“Incorrigible.”

“You love me, really,” Hob shoots back; beneath the affected cockiness, he looks as if he might need to hear it a few more times, too.

Dream brushes his mouth over Hob’s temple and says, “Indeed I do. Dearest.”

✨December Gift Ficlets ✨

[luveline]

jade i'm thinking about reader being easily scared/startled n that eddie would have so much fun just randomly scaring you n making you jump/scream not bc i am an easily scared person lol why would you think that lolol so maybe u could make a little blurb about it?? if u have time <3

sorry if it sucks ily ♡

"I'm gonna go get a cup of water," you murmur. 

Eddie groans something unintelligible, dozing at your side with his hair hiding his face. You stroke it back to better showcase the soft slope of his cheek, kiss the highest point softly and then crawl out of his arms.  

You stumble down the hall on tired legs and into the kitchen, fumbling in the dark for a glass. As soon as you've filled it you hurry back down the hall to Eddie's room, cold and missing him and a little afraid of the dark. Okay, a lot afraid. 

If Eddie hadn't made you watch that stupid movie with the demon possession and the exorcism- 

"Boo." 

You scream and abruptly swallow it, surprise like a hot knife in your throat. Water sloshes over the rim of the glass and soaks into your socks and your heart pounds half out your chest as you take a haphazard step backwards.

Eddie flips on the light, leaning against the doorway for support as he laughs. 

"Oh, angel," he says, wiping under his eyes theatrically. 

"What the fuck, Eds!" You resist the urge to throw your drink all over him and try to breathe like a normal person. "What, you fucking hide behind doors now?" 

He laughs some more at your cussing and holds out both hands, seemingly unsurprised when you back away from him. 

"It's so easy." You love and hate how he says it, mocking and smug. He's practically rejoicing in your bad nerves. You have to look away from him to maintain a pissed facade. 

"Baby," he says, giggling. 

You try not to react but his happiness is infectious. He takes your reluctant smile as forgiveness and wraps you up in his arms, hardly minding your glass between you and his bare skin warm where it presses to yours. 

You melt, grumbling, "God, you suck, Munson." 

"Why'd you jump? You knew I was there." 

"No, I thought you were in bed." 

Another self-satisfied laugh chased by loving, pitying kisses dropped all over the side of your face. There's a certain roughness that comes with his affection but you don't mind it, hungry to be held close. 

"I thought I was gonna get murdered," you mumble. 

"What, with me here? As if."

"How are you gonna stop a demon?" 

"I'm a black belt." 

"You are not." 

You're still arguing about it as you get back into bed – because even if he did have one how is a black belt gonna prevent demon possession? – but eventually his arms wrap around you and he kisses you much too sweetly, a sorry warm on his lips.

You squeeze your eyes shut. It's kind of fun, getting scared. At least when there's apology kisses afterward. 

[celestial-toys]

When I’ve Got Nobody Else

You eventually have to pull the damp sheets away from your face to suck in a sharp breath of air. You almost choke on it when you suddenly feel cold fingers cautiously grip your arm.

Well, so much for not waking him up.

His gravelly voice breaks through the sudden silence.

“It’s okay.”

When you break down crying in bed, Moon is there to hold you through it.

Pairing: Moon/Reader Word Count: 1,330 Contains: [crying] [emotional hurt/comfort] [cuddling] [GN!Reader] [caregiving] [literal sleeping together] [established relationship] [Moon may be a man of few words but he reads you like a book]

It’s one of those nights again.

You can’t sleep, it’s dark, it’s quiet, it’s late, and you feel like your throat’s about to close in on itself.

Too many long days spent keeping yourself busy, and too many long nights keeping yourself distracted.

This was going to catch up with you eventually.

Can’t run from your emotions forever, can you?

Everything you’ve been holding back hits you at 3AM, because of course it does.

All the pain, the guilt, the fear, the panic, the shame. Every single negative emotion you’ve had to pack away in order to keep going. It all hits you as you lie on your back staring up at the ceiling, dimly lit by the red LED lights framing one corner of the room.

Moon had fallen into sleep mode not long ago, and you’d hate to wake him over something like this.

You figure you're a big enough burden as it is, you ought to be able to get yourself through one bad night without asking for his help.

Unpleasant memories of the past few weeks flash over and over in your mind, against your will. You desperately try to think of anything that will pull your mind out of it, but nothing works. These thoughts always pop back up, like your mind is hell-bent on reminding you of every miserable thing you’ve ever encountered.

You carefully shift over onto your side, facing away from Moon��s sleeping form. You can’t hold back the tears that are coming, but maybe you can be quiet about it.

You pull the sheets up to your face, and try your best to stay quiet as you feel yourself begin to fall apart.

The harder you try to stifle it, the harder you seem to cry. Like your body is finally demanding that your pain be heard, regardless of who it may disturb.

After a few minutes of nonstop images flashing in your mind and nonstop tears falling, you eventually have to pull the damp sheets away from your face to suck in a sharp breath of air. You almost choke on it when you suddenly feel cold fingers cautiously grip your arm.

Well, so much for not waking him up.

You go completely quiet out of instinct, freezing up. You've never really been able to let anyone to see you this vulnerable.

His gravelly voice breaks through the sudden silence.

“It’s okay.”

He wastes no time in shifting over and situating himself so he’s completely pressed against you, spooning you. He wraps one arm around your waist, rustling around in the sheets until he finds one of your hands and curling his around it, gently coaxing your body backwards into his chest.

His other arm comes up over the pillows to frame your head, long fingers reaching down and lightly scratching across your scalp, pulling an involuntary shiver out of you at the sensation.

He presses his faceplate into the back of your hair, gently shushing you, reassuring you.

“Don’t need to explain anything. It’s okay.”

You’re still not used to being shown so much unquestioning, unconditional affection, and it shows in the fact that you suddenly start to cry even harder than you were, barely able to even stutter out an apology for waking him up.

You can feel the way he shakes his head as you start choking out the words.

“You never, ever need to apologize for waking me up. You never need to apologize for needing me. I am here to take care of you.”

Your shoulders tremble from the force of your sobs, and hot, fat tears roll down your cheeks and onto the pillow.

“You don’t need to apologize, you don’t need to thank me, you need not say anything at all. Just let it out. Please, Starlight. Let the pain out for me.”

At that, you quit struggling to hold back your tears. You quit fighting it, and at his words, you finally give in.

You don’t know how long the two of you laid there like that for, but by the time you ran out of tears to cry, you were an absolute mess. Your face was hot and sticky, your eyes hurt, your throat hurt, your head hurt.

For once though, your heart didn’t hurt.

At least, not nearly as much as usual. The pain having been replaced with that calm, resigned relief that tends to wash over you after a good cry. 

Moon shifts, briefly detaching himself from you in order to sit up. You turn your head, following his movement and watching as he slips out of the bed with a quiet murmur of “stay.”

So, you stay. 

You sit up slowly and press the heels of your hands into your puffy eyes as you hear the sound of the bathroom tap running, followed quickly by Moon’s reappearance in the bedroom doorway.

He crawls back into bed, returning to your side and holding a tissue up to your nose in the way one would to a sick child. 

“Blow.”

You resist the urge to cringe at being babied like this, as you remind yourself that he’s just leaning into his programming, and it’s not like anyone’s here to judge you anyways. 

You’ll let yourself enjoy it, for once. 

He tosses the tissue in the wastebasket and pulls out a cool, damp cloth.

“This will feel cold at first, but it should help you feel better. C’mere.”

He opens his arms up and gestures for you to lean into him, and you do so without any hesitance. 

You let your head fall back against his shoulder as he gently wipes your face clean of the tacky drying tears, then folds the cloth over to a clean side and carefully situates it across your closed eyes, holding it in place for a few moments. 

He was right. It was definitely helping to ease the pain in your eyes and head. 

With how raw your throat feels, and how empty your mind now is, you struggle to find the right words to say to thank him. 

He seems to sense this, as he always does, and he shushes you when you part your lips to clear your throat. He lifts the cloth from your eyes and you feel him lean away for a moment, and you lean with him given how much of your weight you’ve slumped against him. 

He chuckles just slightly at how much you’re leaning on him, nothing but endeared by it. He grabs your water off of the nightstand, bringing the straw to your lips and doing just about everything but drinking it for you, too. 

“Drink this, you need it now even more than usual.” 

You couldn’t argue with that, and you take a number of slow sips, stopping for deep breaths in between. 

When he seems satisfied you’ve had enough for now, he places the bottle back on the table and gets to work adjusting the pillows and blankets before settling the two of you back down into the nest he’s made around you. 

You’re on your back this time, letting him wrap an arm and a leg over you, and the cool cloth he’s still holding gets gently situated back across your eyes like a sleep mask. 

You pull in a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly, finally feeling that sense of safety and relief that you’d been craving for a long time now. 

The quiet rumbling that Moon's body begins to emit is reminiscent of a purr, and it serves its purpose to further lull you back into the sleep you desperately need. 

You do manage to get a few quiet words out before you succumb to exhaustion, though. 

“Thank you, Moon… for everythin’…”

His nails trace feather light cursive script across your exposed skin and you can’t make any of it out, but you do hear what he whispers back to you.

“Anytime, Starlight.

Anytime, and every time. 

I’m always here.”

A/Ns: *points at this fic* Look! See! Not everything that I write about the DCA is smut!

I wrote this when I was Upset the other night, to try and calm myself down. Figured I'd share it and maybe it can help anyone else that needs it to hopefully feel a bit better, too.

Title is from the song "Walking Disaster" by SayWeCanFly, 'cause I had it on loop while I was writing this.

Divider Photo by Sasha Kaunas on Unsplash

[floatmeintothesun]

Frosty Warmth

Kaeya is a god of ice and constantly enjoys hanging around his favorite mortal (Kaeya x reader)

tags: fluff, gender neutral reader, little to no angst

tw: tiny mentions of stalking (only touched upon once), petnames

Scaramouche/Wanderer version

—

Some people dislike the cold and ice that come with winter. Some people even wish that the season disappeared entirely because of its biting, freezing temperatures.

If you could, however, you’d make it so that winter was the only season.

After all, this is the only time when you get to see Kaeya’s touch in all of its glory. He likes to show you his craftsmanship with every snowflake that lands in the palm of your hand.

Funnily enough, they never melt, and you have a jar of the ones he’s deemed good enough to be given to you. He keeps you company in the dark nights, lighting up the snow on the ground and helping you find your way with every twist and turn.

Kaeya prefers not to be seen often, but the whispers of his sly laughter and teasing touches can be found in the very air itself. His fingers trail on the back of your neck and the sensation of his hand in yours is present whenever you need it. 

You don’t know many ice gods (you only actually know one) but the one you know well isn’t as cold as you probably would have expected.

He’s kind, his jokes are infused with sweet warmth, his frigid anger is as hot as the sun, and his hands, although icy to the touch, positively melt when they intertwine with yours.

Every piece of ice that floats down from the sky is deliberate and you just know that the ones you’ve just been gifted have been handcrafted personally by him.

He appreciates it when you show obvious happiness at receiving his gifts.

You’ll always have a home in the frost. At any time, Kaeya is ready to pull you away from the mortal world whenever you need, into his own home, far beyond the reach of the normal man.

Whether it’s simply because you had a bad day and need a break or a quiet vacation, he’s more than willing to welcome you.

He’s…simply happy that you enjoy being with him, with no strings attached. He has no obligation to put up walls or masks to disguise his intent because it's you.

Kaeya doesn’t need to hide anything from you, because he knows that you won’t judge him. He’s not treated like a distant, cold god, but instead, like a person.

And to him, being valued for simply being himself without borders is something he treasures the most. You have no expectations of him and it feels so good to let loose and be himself around you after having to deal with trickery and weaving through betrayal and lies for millennia.

You are affectionately dubbed as “his most wonderful and favorite human in the history of existence” and although you may think that it’s a joke, he truly means it. 

When you smile, it makes him want to smile as well. He’ll take different forms to follow you around when you're walking around your town.

Maybe a little cat, made of ice and delicate snow, or a fox to nip lightly at your heels, anything to make you laugh. The one he assumes most often however is a tall human, with hair the color of dark winter waters and an eye that twinkles like silver in the stars.

(He has two long arms that are specially tailored to wrap around you and smoosh you against his body, so why wouldn’t he like this form the best? Plus you say that he’s handsome and he positively preens from your praise.)

Your neighbors will tell the two of you that you're a lovely couple and Kaeya only grins, almost wolfishly, and agrees wholeheartedly. There’s a part of him that swells with giddiness whenever he reminds himself that he’s not drowning in loneliness anymore, that it’s you he gets to spend his time with.

Despite being hailed as the lord of cold and ice, he’s surprisingly conscious of how he can affect your body.

He’ll often come to you, dressed in multiple layers, and slowly and sneakily devise ways to transfer all of his items of clothing to you, making sure that you're warm and protected from his element.

You don’t realize that he’s managed to wrap you in his own clothing until he’s satisfied and comments on his work proudly.

That last thing he ever wants you to get is sick. He’s never personally experienced sickness before, but from others’ descriptions, he doesn’t want to be the cause of any of it.

If you do somehow catch an illness, he’s there to nurse you back to health, sitting by your bedside and randomly popping in your room to check up on you.

“You say you're fine now? Darling, I’m…just making sure you feel alright. I can’t have you collapsing from exhaustion, can I? Here, have some more water, I’ll go get you some food.” He’ll tell you after you caught the flu, fussing like a mother hen.

He’s seen the effects of sickness wither away at mortals, and he’s determined to not let that happen to you.

(If he feels attention starved he’ll pretend he has a disease that can only be cured by your hugs and kisses)

He’ll protect you thoroughly as well, his icy fury warding away any potential harm. 

Oh? Someone made you cry? Well, he can’t have that. Looks like their home is completely snowed in! So what if it’s summer?

 There’s someone following you home? Well, looks like they might lose a hand or two to frostbite…maybe somewhere in the near future. Perhaps even an arm.

 Someone hurt you…?

Huh.

Give him names. He’ll get rid of them.

Kaeya absolutely abhors the thought of you getting hurt or being taken advantage of. You never have to worry about being afraid when going out at night because Kaeya is there, every step of the way.

He’ll follow you when you go out to get groceries or whatever supplies you need late at night, his tall and broad form shielding you from harm.

Speaking about tall and broad, he’s a good person to cuddle with in the summer…just not in the winter, much to his sad disappointment. 

“I know you're already freezing, my dear…but I am starving for your attention. Just one hug. Or six. No. Holding hands is not part of the equation, nor does it count.” He’ll sigh, his voice sounding close to a whine. 

Sometimes he wishes he weren’t so cold to the touch, so that it wouldn’t hurt you when you hug him for too long. If you so much as shiver when you're in his presence, get ready to be suddenly draped in large blankets that Kaeya’s managed to conjure out of nowhere.

All in all, he’s very sweet, if not a little mischievous and genuinely cares about your wellbeing more than anything else.

Oh, and he’ll tell you about his brother, who is the polar opposite of him. Sometime in the future, he’ll definitely convince Diluc to come and meet you. 

(Bonus: If you start calling him sweet little pet names like he does for you, he’ll completely melt into a puddle of lovesick goop and become more clingy, practically hanging off your arm constantly for a better part of an hour. Or just wrapping his arms around you with his face buried in the crook of your neck while having you nestled firmly in his lap. You’ll be stuck there for the better part of an afternoon.)