#happy fantasy high week to those who celebrate

[kermit-coded]

when fantasy high said "you are worthy of love no matter what you do in this world" and when it said "you are not a coward, you have a goddamn medical condition" and when it said "if you choose to care, then the universe cares" and when it said "expectation without love, what's that?" and when it said "here's to getting it right on the next try" and when it said "it's nice to have a person who understands, even if we're not the same" and when it said "work is an act of love" and when it said "it's gorgug, keep going" and when it said "i don't know what i will be, but i like the direction i'm going" and when it said "you don't have to be the same forever" and when it said "i think that the only answer is that you have to keep looking for love" and when it said "it's not about deserving" and when it said "i just wanted to hold their hand when they couldn't see" and when it said "you're easy to love and anyone who couldn't figure it out was a real bozo" and when it said

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 25th-31st 2024

Happy late Easter if you celebrate! I had four days off soooooo as you can see, this is a long one 😆 (honestly feels like I spent the entire fucking day working on this!!)

OMG those stills last week? That episode synopsis? can't WAIT for 7x04 !!!!

(There's a couple of people not tagged, if you know them, please tag the min the comments!)

Complete

🔥 A Million Pretty Pieces by ShesLikeTexas / @shesliketexas-17 (Sentinel/Guide AU, Canon Divergent, SEAL!Buck | 251K | Teen): After enduring countless procedures to save his older brother, Evan Buckley is only four-years-old when he manifests as the youngest Guide in human history. The Global-Sentinel-Guide-Association brings one of their finest mentors, Bobby Nash, out of retirement to help train the young Guide.

When You Gimme Those Ocean Eyes by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Post-Tsunami, Mermaid!Buck | 5K | General): The loft was dark and stilted like Buck hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights when he got home but the air was thick with moisture. Maddie heard the shower first and then the pitiful, pained whimper next. “Buck!” Maddie moved in through the loft to the bathroom and pushed open the door. She was met with a face of trapped steam that seeped into her skin and made her lungs release a tension she didn’t know she’d been holding. But that tension returned tenfold as she flipped on the light. Buck stared up at her, tired and scared, from where he was slumped in the corner of his shower. (Part 1 of 🔥Mermaid AU)

Fallin’ Into Your Ocean Eyes by Princessfbi / @princessfbi (Mermaid!Buck, Getting Together | 21K | Mature): “Do you trust me?” Buck asked, as he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s. “You know I do.” “Good,” Buck said, pecking him on his lips again before he pulled away and kicked off his boots. “I need you to hold my pants.” Buck hooked his thumbs in the waistline of his jeans and pushed them down in a blink of an eye. If Eddie’s face could get any redder, it would, but the heat of his gaze had Buck shoving down a shiver that raced up his spine. He handed Eddie his jeans and pulled off his shirt. “This is weird,” Eddie mumbled as Buck handed his clothes to him. “I hope you realize this is weird.” (Part 2 of 🔥Mermaid AU)

A Diamond Mind and Those Ocean Eyes by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Mermaid!Buck | 35K | Teen): “Buck…” Eddie wheezed, his eyes rolling in his head. Maddie snapped her gaze down to look at him and almost burst into tears at the sight. Eddie’s sun kissed skin was deathly pale, with blue tinging his lips and dark circles under his eyes. Buck never would’ve left him. Not like this. “Eddie!” Maddie said, shaking him herself. “Where’s Buck?” Eddie wheezed and said, “… boat.” Then Eddie stopped breathing and Chimney started CPR. (Part 3 of 🔥Mermaid AU)

Work It Like The Rent's Due by Loverlylo/ @theloverlylo (Stripper!Buck | 4K | Teen): Look, the cost of living in Los Angeles is insane, and public servants make nothing. Lacking savings, an inheritance, or a spouse with a high-earning job, Buck turns to a side gig to help pay is rent. And what side gig is perfect for a gorgeous man with no shame? If you guess stripping, you win.

the music moves me (right onto your lap) by KaztielCS118 (Stripper!Eddie | 4K | Mature): Eddie used to be a strip dancer, he shows Buck just how good he is.

🔥 I want to be your fantasy (maybe you could be mine) by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Bachelor Party | 7K | Explicit): Eddie stopped just outside the doors, a hand on Buck's arm to stop him from going inside. “Buck I have to tell you something and you’re not allowed to say shit about it okay?” “Of-of course,” Buck was a little worried at how serious Eddie was being, but it probably wasn't anything that bad if he was going to tell Buck something and then go into a pole dancing class. “I’m going to be really good at this class,” Eddie said, his voice low. “Because one of my jobs before moving to L.A. was stripping. You’re the first person who didn’t work at the club or go to the club to know that and I’d prefer if it stayed that way.”

pauses, then says by vstars (S7E4 Speculation | 1K | Teen): or, Eddie checks up on Buck after an accident at the basketball court

Wrong Side of Heaven by TearsThisSideofHeaven (MCU AU, Post-Snap | 8K | Mature): In the moment, Buck wonders if this is the end of the world. Later, he’ll find himself wishing it had been. Or: the post-Thanos 9-1-1 AU that's been rattling around in the author's brain for literally years.

too tired to keep lying by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (S7E6 Spec, Madney Wedding | 1K | Teen): “But someone has to tell everyone that there’s—” Buck’s voice cracks. A shudder wracks him and Eddie’s hold tightens. “—that there’s not going to be a wedding today.” “There could be.” “What?” Eddie swallows hard, pulling back enough that his eyes can meet Buck’s. “There could still be a wedding today.”

do you want to know a secret by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (S7, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck overworks himself and his family worries. When Eddie overhears a conversation between Maddie and Chimney, he learns he might just have caused Buck’s change in behavior. The good news is – there’s something he can do about it.

🔥 If I Never Hear Your Voice Again by actualalligator/ @actualalligator (Canon Divergent, Post-S3E1 Kids Today, Online Friendship | 21K | Mature): After the pulmonary embolism, Buck starts to experience nerve pain and intermittent weakness in his leg. He undergoes another surgery, but when it does not help, he is medically retired from the LAFD. Chimney gets him a video game so they can play it together, but one night it leads him right to Eddie, a single dad from Texas, desperate to make ends meet. They strike up a friendship that eventually leads to more while they work through depression, a move, some new jobs, and a lot of other life stuff.

The One Where The 118 Play "Never Have I Ever" & Chaos Ensues. by dylaesthetics (S7, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Or playing Never Have I Ever during a slow shift goes as well as you can probably expect.

Warmth of your Gratitude and Appreciation by Wildgirl93/ @wildlife4life (S7E3 Coda | 1K | Not Rated): Buck is coming down from the rush of the cruise rescue and Eddie takes him home.

Buck the Bachelor by terranobis (S7, Bachelor!Buck | 41K | Not Rated): When an emergency at the Bachelor mansion leads to Buck becoming the Bachelor, Buck and Eddie begin to realize that there might be more to their friendship than they thought.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by ummrys (S7E4 Spec | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck gets a little (a lot) jealous of Eddie's blossoming friendship with Tommy Kinard, and makes some bad decisions about it.

🔥 Racing with the Brakes Cut by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Fast&Furious AU | 61K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz is offered an undercover job by the LAPD, he takes it so the money will take care of his son. But his mission to infiltrate The 118, a group of street racers suspected of hijacking trucks and selling the goods on the black market, goes awry when he meets Evan Buckley. The more time Eddie spends with Buck and his family, partnering with Buck to win the dangerous Race Wars, the harder it is to remember why he's really there. As the police breathe down his neck, Eddie will have to choose exactly which side he's on, and where his loyalties lie.

of epiphanies by tawaifeddiediaz / @tawaifeddiediaz (Post-S7E3, FWB Buck/Tommy, Buddie Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck doesn’t know what to do about Tommy, but somehow, he finds the love of his life anyway.

oh i wonder who i'm looking for by ipretendtobesane/ @useramor (Post-S7E3, Buck/Tommy | 2K | Mature): after 7x03, buck and tommy go to a bar

if i died last night (it would haunt me forever) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S7E3, Love Confessions | <1K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck can't go another night without telling Eddie how he feels.

i love you if you even care by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (S7E4 Spec | 3K | Mature): 7x04 speculation where Buck gets jealous of Tommy, but hits Eddie with the basketball instead.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 75K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

a matching pair (we go together) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Getting Together | 1K | Teen): Or, the one where Eddie makes the team friendship bracelets.

be there on the next train by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Getting Together | 1K | Teen): or, painkillers, pet names, and other sure-fire ways to finally tell your best friend you’re in love with him

slowly getting sober from the taste of your skin by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7, Getting Together | 11K | Teen): Or, the one where Eddie gets drunk and pines. Includes Maddie & Eddie friendship, lots of miscommunication, and a happy fluffy ending. 

Left Unsaid by C_M2 (Post-Tsunami | 33K | Mature): The discovery of a small facebook group full of tsunami survivors rocks station 118.

it’s just the thought of you and what I leave behind by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Alternate S7E3 | 6K | Teen): As the cruise ship starts to sink, Bobby and Athena aren’t the only ones in desperate need of saving. The 118 goes on a high-risk mission and a close call brings Buck and Eddie together. 

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (PWP, Post-S6, Sex Pollen | 21K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

chafe the skin (you know i like it rough) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Buck had a problem. A very, very big problem. Eddie hadn’t shaved in two days.

Love's No Pressure by kittyeddie (PWP, Established Buddie | 7K | Explicit): 5 times Buck and Eddie try to have sex but don't, and one time they finally get to

baby, can i hold you? by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S7E1, Hurt/Comfort | 3K | Teen): or, eddie panics. buck holds him.

WIP

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 13/? | 113K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 29/? | 19K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

29. 71. Lingering forehead against forehead, consumed by each other to the point of barely having strength enough to breathe

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 123/? | 379K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Podfic

🔥 Still Waters by MilenaDaniels [Podfic] (@milenadaniels) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Post-S4E14: Survivors | 45-60 minutes | Explicit): As Eddie lays on the hot pavement bleeding out, his eyes locked on Buck’s bloody face, his hand reaching out towards him, what washes over him isn’t his hard-earned stillness nor is it shock. It’s clarity, edging slowly into focus from off-stage. And when he wakes up in the hospital bed and registers a soft, slim hand in his, he thinks, "no, that’s not it". Or, Five Ways Eddie's Body Feels Different After the Shooting

🔥 Nights are mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day by HMSLusitania [podfic](@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Camping Trip, Getting Together | 20-30 minutes | Not Rated): Coincidentally lacking children for a week, the firefam go camping together. Eddie would have a better time with it if he wasn't hiding a major secret.

🔥 What's Died Will Never Stay Dead by HMSLusitania [Podfic] (@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/@rhea314 (The Old Guard AU, Bobby POV | 45-60 minutes | Teen): Bobby's family died in an apartment fire in St Paul, he was honest about that much. But it was in 1904, not 2014.

🔥 Which Witch (series) by HMSLusitania [Podfic] (@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea) / @rhea314 (Witch!Eddie | 1-1.5 hours | Teen): It starts as a stupid conversation at the station. Chim, overly credulous, kicks them off with a quick, “Hey remember when we were jinxed because Probie said the q-word? Do you guys think there’s such a thing as actual magic?” In his defence, Eddie guesses, it really is a …q-word… shift and they don’t have anything better to do, everyone sprawled around on various pieces of furniture in the loft. Eddie had been playing a round of pool with Buck, but if they’re going to get into this conversation, he’s got to nip it in the bud. “Nope,” he says.

🔥 The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [podfic] (@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Post-S5, Fake Relationship | 4-5 hours | Explicit): The Buckleys are celebrating their 50th Anniversary, and Maddie and Buck are both expected to come. To take the heat off Maddie, Buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new. Obviously, there's only one solution: bring Eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. No problem, except for the, uh. "Pretend" part. Oops.

🔥 right in front of your eyes by rainbow_nerds [podfic] (@rainbow-nerdss) by Rhea314 (Rhea) / @rhea314 (Fake Relationship | 1.5-2 hours | Teen): Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.

🔥 Lifelines by hetrez [podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Canon Divergent, Tsunami | 2 hours | Teen): Buck said, "Look, I'm sorry I overheard that because it's personal, and you should be able to decide who gets to have that part of you." Eddie came out of his hunch a little and looked him in the eyes, and Buck felt a zing of giddy accomplishment. It maybe made him stupid. "But to be honest, I'm really flattered that Pepa thought a punk like me could get a guy like you." Eddie's eyes went huge, and under the sodium lights Buck could see his ears turning red. Just two strangers hanging out after a tsunami, talking about being in the closet.

🔥 Don't Take the Money by HMSLusitania [Podfic] (@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea) / @rhea314 (Post-Lawsuit, Time Loop | 2.5-3 hours | Mature): “You know, being stuck here isn’t actually the end of the world,” Chimney says, coming up to the table and picking up one of the smoke detectors. “It just feels like it, Buck. Trust me, I know.” “I’m pretty sure it might actually be the end of the world,” Buck says. “Considering this is the sixth time I’ve lived this day.” Chimney stares at him for a beat and then his eyebrows lift. “Wait, are you like – dude, are you in Groundhog Day?” OR The post-lawsuit time-loop AU literally no one asked for.

[xplrvibes]

Have you seen the crazy person on Twitter claiming that Colby's using Sam and that Sam is carrying the channel and Colby's not doing his job because he's not posting on instagram.

The guy is fucking editing, leave the man alone, go touch grass.

Need you and Golbrocklovely to state how hard Colby works again so bitches can understand the man works soooooooooooo fucking hard to the point he actually needs to take a break!

I've heard a bit about that. I also saw quite a few problematic shenanigans happening on tiktok and instagram recently, so I know this isn't a problem singular to one crazy person on twitter.

Before I say anything else, let me say that shit like this really drives home the point @golbrocklovely and I have been saying for years: people afford Sam a general sense of respect that they simply do not afford Colby. Colby is their little punching bag, rage room, therapist, fantasy boyfriend and Sim character...but he certainly isn't a human being who they feel deserves privacy, common respect, happiness, etc.

So, thanks for proving us right. We love that lol.

Back to the main point: let me take this opportunity to point out the obvious, here. When Colby was posting on instagram, people were pissed cause he was posting his girlfriend instead of working or sitting around like an unplugged toy waiting for Sam to have use for him or whatever it was people wanted (cause I guess only Sam can have a life and hobbies outside of the snc collective). Now he's stopped posting, and they are *checks notes* pissed because he's NOT posting, so therefore he NOW he ISN'T working?

Pick a lane, I am begging.

As far as the editing goes, they literally just spoke about this in the Quackity stream last week. Colby takes all of the raw footage - HOURS upon HOURS of raw footage- and cuts it down and arranges it into a story, after which it is handed over to Sam and the other editors to gussy up and make presentable.

In Colby's own words (starring at 1:15:40 in the Quackity stream vod on YouTube, for those who would like to experience it for themselves): "We have our own roles...so I cut everything, so I like assemble it and make the story, and then [Sam] does everything else," and my favorite part:

"We have an editor right now that helps out with Sam's job; but I can't give up the assembly, the cutting part."

So, please understand what that means. This man spends HOURS per day meticulously cutting up raw footage and turning it into a 1 hour story. And he does it BY HIMSELF.

You are lucky you see and hear from him at all, quite honestly.

And I mean that. This shit with Colby has been going on for YEARS. He said it himself once: he gets judged for everything he does. Every move he makes (or even doesn't make) is dissected to high heaven and used against him. He gets death threats for growing a mustache. He gets canceled for wishing women a Happy Women's Day. He spends 8+ hours a day editing, only to be accused of not working...while Sam can go off and post about riding in private jets and getting haircuts and training for a marathon and golfing and STILL SOMEHOW, Sam is carrying the channel and Colby is apparently spending his days doing nothing but fucking his, what was she being called again? Plastic Chucky doll of a girlfriend, was it?

I'm telling you this right now - Colby has one foot in the grave when it comes to interacting fans and it's because of this bullshit. Who would want to deal with this? Especially when all around you, your friends are being celebrated for being in openly cheesy relationships and having free time to explore hobbies?

He isn't a perfect human, nobody is. But holy shit is the shit that gets shoveled at him not warranted.

Also, because I have seen this going around tiktok and I have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to this: anyone who thinks wishing a cancer survivor would get cancer again or makes degrading and offensive comments about said cancer survivor's body or health all because he's got a girlfriend and you can't handle that - put all of your money into therapy. Seriously. You need the most professional help money can buy, and then some.

Anyway, I think that about covers the situation.

(And since I know, I KNOW, the only problem people will see with this is that I singled out poor Sam, the patron saint of dealing with lazy partners: I'm not saying Sam can't have hobbies. I'm saying it's ridiculous to compare the content both are posting on social media and come up with the idea that only Sam works. I'm also saying it's ridiculous to act like Colby can't have hobbies or days off while praising Sam for...having hobbies and days off).

[nixrsing]

Quintessa Swindell & They / Them - Non Binary‷ Watch out , Phoenix ‘Nix’ Chaplin has crash-landed into Roswell !! They look Twenty Five and celebrate their birthday on the Third of September. They are from Roswell, New Mexico, reside in Tripp’s Trailer Park and are currently working as a clerk & machine technician at Space Invader Arcade. One thing you should know about them is They’ve held Roswell’s Galiga high score for over three years now.

Trigger Warning for Miscarriage mention

Reynard and Reba eloped right out of high school, cutting ties with their families and moving to Roswell so they could finally live out their school dreams of starting a family together. They spent years trying to have a child each time ending in tragedy. Just when it began to feel hopeless amongst the two, Phoenix was born. The doctors said Phoenix wouldn’t survive the first week. But they did and they survived another then another and another. Until an entire year had passed. Nix was their parents' blessing and they truly treated Nix as such.

Nix grew up spoiled, given everything they could ever want. It would be expected that they’d wind up rotten. But the Chaplin household was a kind household, a loving household dedicated to their community. With Reynard a firefighter dedicated to protecting those in his community and Reba a veterinarian hoping to bring joy to every home of Roswell. Together the two raised Nix to be just as loving with their community as they both were.

Nix was always a bit of an odd child. Like most children they were introduced to the fantastical at a young age with stories of fairies, dragons, goblins and the like. Unlike most children they never really lost their interest in the fantastical. Instead they kept believing that somewhere fairies had to exist, at some point dragons must have been real, all these fantasies they loved had to exist. The world couldn’t be as boring as it seemed. Their interest in the fantastical soon spread beyond fairies and goblins and dragons. Living in Roswell they were always surrounded by the alien culture that came from living so close to a famous crash landing site. When they were old enough to read on their own they began to read books on the extraterrestrial nonstop. Following reading of extraterrestrials soon came an interest in the paranormal, the unexplainable. It only fueled their belief that more was out there, more HAD to be out there.

They didn’t make many friends, having trouble understanding how socialization worked with others. Always feeling like everyone had a certain rule book for socializing that they didn’t have. That everyone else knew how to socialize while Nix simply did not. It didn’t help that they spoke mostly of the fantastical, aliens, fairies, horror and other oddities of life. However they did make a few friends and the few friends they made were lifelong one’s.

Including Nix’s best friend who they’ve known and been close with since middle school. Their friend never judged them or made fun of them for their odd interests, never cut them off from their long discussions of the whimsical. Likewise Nix was always there to listen to their friend to offer a helping hand whenever needed and share smiles with them for years to come. Over time something began changing in Nix. Their feelings for their friend deepened to more, a lot more. Feelings they don’t know if they want to share with their best friend.

Their life was happy for the most part, the town knew them and their family well. When tragedy struck, a fire that got out of control took Reynard from the Chaplin family when Nix was only fifteen. It didn’t tear the family apart, it pulled Reba and Nix closer if anything else. But it did shut Nix off from the rest of the town. The town that tried to support them during a difficult time. They greatly appreciated it and loved that their community wanted to be there for them. But at the same time they felt that they had to put on a brave face for the community, for their mother. The community who’d lost a hero and their mother who’d lost the love of her life. Meanwhile, burying the fact they’d lost their father.

Things became difficult for the Chaplin family after that. To keep from losing the house Reba took more shifts at work. While Nix began working at the Space Invader Arcade to help pay the bills. The two saw less of each other neither realizing how hard the other was taking the loss. Both trying to be strong for the other without ever actually talking to the other. Maybe if they’d talked more Nix would have seen how sick their mother was getting. 

They never found out about how sick their mom was until the hospitalization seven years later. Reba fell at work one day. Nix was called at work to come to the hospital. The doctor said their mother had a brain tumor, it would have been noticed sooner had she gone to a doctor. Instead blaming the symptoms from it on stress and powering through it. Nix began working more to pay for their mother’s hospital bills and to pay for their house. At the same time visiting their mother everyday spending more time at the hospital than at home. Five months later however, Reba was gone and Nix was alone.

Nix planned the funeral, called their estranged family, did everything to see their mother off. And in the end their uncle’s took them to court to fight their mother’s will. It wasn’t much but it was enough they wanted to fight for it. The hospital bills, the lawyers, the court case, it drained Nix of what little money they had left. In the end they even forfeited their mother’s will to their uncles just to stop the fighting.

They moved from their home to a trailer at Tripp’s. They wound up selling most everything that belonged to them and their parents. Trying to bury what they’d lost. Trying to act like it didn’t affect them, coming off as cold to their parents' loss. It didn’t help that they never wanted to talk about what happened either. Not even with their best friend or with the person they were dating. Like they just didn’t care about what happened. But they did. They just didn’t want the town bringing it up, hoping if they ignored it then the town would too.

Their silence lost them the love of their life though. The refusal to talk about what was happening or reach out, caused a rift between them and the person they loved. It didn’t kill their relationship entirely, they stayed friends. But the trust their lover had in them was lost.

It’s been three years since the loss and two years since the breakup. Life has returned to as normal as it can be for Nix. They adopted a pit bull who they named Ned, are still happily working at Space Invader’s Arcade and living out of their Trailer at Tripp’s. They try to remain as upbeat as ever, continuing their belief in magic. But still don’t talk about what happened, when it’s brought up they tend to brush it off. Claiming they’re okay that it’s in the past now. Yet it’s fairly obvious they’re not as okay about it as they say they are.

Additional Info

Nix is a ga(y)mer. They love video games but have been trying to get into roleplaying games like DnD recently.

Total explorer in fact they used to get in a lot of trouble for sneaking into places they weren’t supposed to be in because they were curious.

They collect knives, rings and old video games!

Connections

The Hookup Nix is Awkward About- Winter Carver

[gamerkats]

GamerKAts Q&A Dump

Wow! So much to catch up on!!! We've only been offline for like two weeks or something, right? Wait. What are we saying... That's basically two years on Hellsite.

Well, prepare for the surge of likes and queue reblogs while we sail the seas of activity and feed we've missed. Drink up, me hearties, yo ho! o(^o^)o

Thank you to everyone who sent us questions about where we were and if we were okay. You're all so incredibly wonderful!!! ❤ We adore you! ❤

Yes, we're doing fine.

No, we didn't quit writing or ghost socmed again. (We will never be forgiven for that, huh? (._.) ) If we decide to quit or ghost we promise to say goodbye; too many of you worry and we don't want that. We posted before how our life has been really difficult this Sept/Oct. Like Murphy's Law difficult. We just needed some time, you know?

What did we wear for Halloween? How did we celebrate? Unfortunately, we didn't get to celebrate this year. But we hope all of you had an incredible time!

How is writing going? Off and on. We have the book written, but rewrites and polishing is taking longer than we want. Hopefully we're still on track for this November. We also need to make cover art, and that's proving a challenge....

Is there sex in our book? Yes. As we mentioned before, this is a mature book series with all the mature labels. Language, violence, gore, horror, erotica, the works! If you don't like those things, then this series isn't for you.

SiN is not a 90's romance. And it's not a Tolkien inspired elf fantasy. It's not like anything you're probably imagining, actually. Saccharine in Nightmares is a wild genre mashup adventure for mature audiences who want an unpredictable ride.

We are NOT your typical writers!!!!

What are we going to sell for? Cheaper than our friends, family, and betas are comfortable with, but we actually don't hate our day job so we don't need to charge high. Also, it will be on Kindle Unlimited, so people can read for free with that service.

What's SiN based on again? Our D&D campaigns. They're not written in a traditional format, nor are they following any sort of traditional "Beginning, Middle, and End" style or plot structure. Our English and Creative Writing teachers would wail in agony for the artistic liberties we take.

Each book is based off of one night of campaign play. We break the fourth wall, we write with narrator voice and then with omniscient view, there are many characters to follow, and lots of lore and storylines. It's chaotic, it's exciting, and according to our betas, "it all surprisingly makes linear sense."

Do we have self inserts? Of our characters from D&D, yes, it is their story after all. Of us in real life, hell no. We'd like to believe we're far more intelligent than fantasy book people.

Did we know Ryan Reynolds is on Tumblr??? Um, we do now. Not surprising, though, since Twitter is circling the drain. But let's face it...have you seen Ryan? Try and tell us how he doesn't belong here with the rest of us. We'll wait.

Well, we'd best get to catching up on what we've missed. Thanks again everyone!!! ＼(^_^)／ Have a happy-whatever-day you read this.

[grapes-dance]

Birthday note to H

I guess female Anglerfish are 500,000 times larger than the males. I read that the tiny males find a female and latch onto her, parasite-like, until the two bodies fuse and his body disintegrates until it's nothing but genitals and thats how anglerfish reproduce.

I never thought of you as an Autumn baby but here in Atlanta this week autumn is full and gorgeous: colorful rustling leaf snow, the sound (THE SOUND!) of crickets and whatever else; it's 70 in the daytime but now, in these mornings, theres a cold in the air that's impossible to not think of as dangerous -- Winter leaning against a wall, looking down the street at you in a fat-lapeled pinstriped suit tapping the meat of a baseball bat in the palm of her hand.

I wonder what music was playing when the gods stewed you up and poured you into this world. I spent some time looking for the right song today, looked for something autumnal, vibrant, high pitched dangerous woodwinds, deep bass, the biggest drum you've ever imagined mounting to crescendo. A symphony that needs you to know how alive it is, how fucking here it is. I didn't find a suitable song on Spotify. But from where i'm sat, looking up over a thinning hedge at forest of mammoth oaks with bright yellow leaves and a squirrel just ran across the hedge and the band of insects playing in the big shrinking sky, i feel i am hearing this season's sound of you.

This year i thought about what it means to celebrate, to really celebrate: an achievement, an ending, another person, what it means to celebrate you. Taken seriously -- no, not seriously rather taken genuinely -- there is no buyable answer to these questions. But i've found them difficult to answer for another reason: lack of exemplar, lack of practice. As a family, as a culture, we know how to throw and attend a party. We know how to carry on, how to hoot and holler. Even those of us who don't dance, know how to express some of the jubilance that dance expresses. But to celebrate, to honor, to say how special you are, how important, essential, appreciated and kingly… how would gods do it?

There might be a banquet, with a table a half mile long in a grove of turning trees with everyone you've ever thought to love there on their best behavior. Animals would come from the forest and fish would come from the sea and we would all sing from the soundtrack to My Best Friend's Wedding and we'd all laugh until we fell out of our seats and then we'd roll around on the earth until we're all entirely covered in a warm comfy blanket of fallen leaves.

I dunno, sounds like my fantasy not yours, and like a lot of work and suspiciously like campsgiving. So i guess this year i'll just write you a note about how the biggest problems won't be solved and aren't solvable and about how surrendering to certain hopelessness exposes us to the sourness that everything we love will end sooner -- unfathomably sooner -- than we would like.

Here's to you. To another year. To not resisting the bittersweetness. I wish we were together. Happy Birthday, H.

[kyleledfordswriting]

I've never really been one to date around. As a young person, I had a serious girlfriend for over a decade. After that relationship ended, I quickly found myself in another serious relationship which led to marriage and lasted five years. When we divorced, I had my first concert performance and met a cool girl who I ended up dating for almost four years. In between relationships, I had a few short-lived flings but never really actively sought out new partners. I always seemed to fall in love quickly, which made me happy, and maybe that's why I never felt the need to date around.

As a person in my mid-thirties who hasn't really dated much, I knew it was important to take my time and explore what dating could offer me. So, I did what many people do these days and created profiles on dating apps like Tinder and Bumble. I started matching with people and having conversations with them, which was quite exhilarating at first. It's exciting to think about the possibilities that different individuals could bring into your life.

One of the people I matched with was "K". She's a stained glass artist and lives in a townhouse just two blocks away from me. It seemed like it would be easy to meet up with her during our free time. So, I arranged our first date at the Artisans in Everett to see an artist from Seattle whom I admire.

I found The Artisans to have a charming and comfortable atmosphere and thought it would be an ideal location for a first date. The woman I was going to meet was slightly younger than me, with a child and a successful career as an artisan. Due to my recent separation, I decided to schedule our date a few weeks in advance to allow myself time to reflect and gain some clarity.

I arranged the date with “K”, and while waiting for that day to arrive, I chatted with a person I'll refer to as "M". Despite being ten years my senior, they exuded a youthful vitality and had a great sense of humor. Our conversations were fun, and I felt a strong connection with them. We tentatively scheduled a date for three weeks from now.

As I pondered my recent breakup and contemplated my prospects for future romance, I decided to reach out to my former high school flame, "A." We arranged to meet up and celebrate her belated birthday, while catching up on each other's lives. Our meeting place was the Hart and the Hunter, a trendy restaurant situated in downtown Seattle, close to the bustling Pike Place Market. Despite the dreary weather, I felt excited about the prospect of reconnecting with “A” in this cool, eclectic setting - a fusion of urban chic, country-western and cocktail bar styles. I had dressed in a throwback country-style outfit, which made me feel just right for the occasion. I arrived half an hour early to ensure we had a good table and anxiously sipped my coffee as I waited for “A” to arrive.

As soon as she walked in, I felt at ease. We've known each other for so long, practically grew up together. We're like family. It was such a relief to confide in someone and talk about recent events, to process life with someone who knows me better than I know myself. Her perspective was truly eye-opening. She made me realize that even though I had a blast with my recent ex and the wild adventures we had, living like we're still in our early twenties when we're in our mid-thirties and approaching our late thirties is unsustainable.

Lately, I've been writing and reflecting on what I truly want and how I feel. Sure, I love to party and I enjoyed the crazy times we had. We went on some extreme rockstar-level escapades. But I never really took the time to think about how those experiences made me feel or whether they aligned with my future desires.

When it comes to our shadow selves - the parts of us that hold our darkest desires, wildest fantasies, and impulsive behaviors - having a partner who encourages and enables that side of us is not the best reality to strive for myself. Personally, I desire more stability in my life; a family, a home, and a real future. At one point, I thought that my partner and I could grow and evolve together towards a more stable lifestyle, while still occasionally indulging in some adventures.

I went to pay the bill after lunch, but the waitress told me they don't accept cash. It made me feel old and out of touch, especially since I had saved that cash specifically for this occasion. I gave my friend "A" the cash, and she paid the bill by scanning a QR code on her phone. We spent the rest of the day walking around Pike Place market, where we had one of our first dates. We even visited the comic book store, where she bought me a graphic novel that she likes, so we could talk about it. Watching her move and act brought back memories of when I was in love with her and admired her unique qualities. We had never spent time together as single individuals since we split up, as we both always had partners. Am I feeling something new, or am I just nostalgic for old feelings? I know it’s just nostalgia but I can see myself yearning to find new romance.

I got a message from "J" when I got home. We matched on Tinder, but she let me know that we're also Facebook friends and had met a decade ago at the Everett Mall where she had a crush on me. “J” is younger than me and we have completely different interests and lifestyles. She's not into the local music scene and is more of a Disney princess kind of girl who loves Tinker Bell. She's very attractive with long blonde hair and strong eyes, and she's also blunt and forward, which I find appealing. We had a FaceTime video chat where we got to know each other's personalities and voices. “J” asked me if I wanted kids and if I was ready for a relationship, which I appreciated because she's very stable and has a child of her own whom she's devoted to. Although we have different backgrounds, I like many things about “J” and our conversations. I've never really dated before, so I'm not sure if I'm ready for a relationship, but I do want stability and less wild partying in my life. I've always wanted a kid, so maybe being with someone so different could be good for me.

The following day, my conversation with this person continued, and it carried on through lunch and after work. We seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, and they started showing a lot of interest in me. They even asked me to call them during my lunch breaks at work. I was taken aback by their enthusiasm and compliments about my looks. They even suggested we do more video chats.

However, I am recently separated and have a tendency to jump into relationships quickly, always believing that the person I'm with is "the one."

So, could this person be my forever person? It's too early to tell, but my heart is yearning for the comfort and security of a relationship. My last relationship was quite the rollercoaster ride, with extreme highs and lows. Maybe this new relationship could be more focused on stability, security, and comfort. Here I am already talking about this relationship that hasn’t even started. Am I that predictable?

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Quicksilver Princess Chapter 3

Series summary: A fantasy AU in which Dean is part of a long line of warriors who protect the kingdom. What happens when his rescue of the little princess with the quicksilver eyes gets him a possilble future bride?

Series Warnings: Nothing major. Show typical violence. Fantasy violence. Smut. Angst. Fluff. Each chapter will have its own specific warnings. So, watch for those.

Chapter Warnings: Kissing. General making out. Nothing too explicit.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC

Word Count: 8,072 (sorry for this super long chapter!)

A/N: This is my entry for @awkward-and-indecisive’s “Abby’s 200 followers celebration”. The trope I got was arranged marriage and the dialogue prompt I got was “I’m tired of lying here in this stupid bed.”

Both parts of the entry have been fulfilled now! Finally - thanks for your patience Abby!

A/N 2: The princess in this story, borrows her name from the princess in the movie, Flight of Dragons, which was the very first fantasy story I ever encountered as a little kid and I loved it immensely. (I highly recommend it!)

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Dean was staring at Melissande as though she'd suddenly grown a second head.

"What?" He said quietly.

Melissande nodded and raised her hands. "Look, I understand this solution must seem a little drastic, but - "

"Just a small, wee, tiny, bit drastic, yeah." Dean agreed, his thumb and finger held up an inch apart to demonstrate his sarcastic point. His lips were pushed out into a pout as he nodded at her.

Melissande sighed. "Please, let me explain."

Dean dropped his hand and stood up to take their plates away, still shaking his head. Melissande decided that was invitation enough and clasped her hands in her lap.

"So, there was a kind of...rivalry between my mother and the First Queen. You see, my father was...forced to marry the First Queen."

She shook her head. "No, forced is too strong a word. They were betrothed their whole lives, they always knew they'd wed. As his True Wife, my father always gave the First Queen his respect and treated her in the manner her station deserved. But..."

Melissande smiled softly. "...he fell in love with my mother and he doted on her and I a lot when I was little. And the First Queen was jealous. It was a ridiculous jealousy. I mean she was the 'Sovereign High Majesty, the First Queen of Sanso'ye, the Eternal Kingdom' and my mother was nothing but a fourth wife, given the title of Fourth Queen simply as a courtesy.

Melissande threw up her hands in exasperation. "My mother was queen of nothing. She didn't even come from royalty or nobility. Her father was a rich merchant who'd paid a lot of money to see his daughter wed to a King."

"So, though my mother and I were made part of the royal family, we held no real power. Yet, the First Queen pulled my father away from us, by reminding him, no doubt, of his duties to her and his True Children."

She tried to ignore the old sting that still hurt her heart sometimes when she remembered that her father had left because she wasn't important enough; she didn't matter enough to him to make him try harder to stay.

She shook her head free of the old hurt and continued. "So, the First Queen won and should have been happy, but..."

She frowned. "Court machinations and politics are odd and mostly frivolous. See, my mother was kind and smart, funny, beautiful - in short she was incredibly popular at court. So, she held sway over a lot of things that she found quite silly, things like what clothes were fashionable, or what kind of animals ladies of the court would take as pets."

She rolled her eyes. "My mother found an injured sparrow in our garden a few years ago and nursed it back to health and the pretty little creature wouldn't leave when it was healed, so my mother fed it and kept it safe. Well, within weeks, all the ladies in the court were forcing their servants to track down and trap poor little sparrows so they could keep them in cages and be like my mother."

Throughout all her explanations, Dean had remained silent, leaning against the table on the opposite wall. But now he shook his head. "Yes, I do seem to recall that people at court, men and women alike would often do the most bizarre things and regularly decided that the most ludicrous things were extremely important." He shrugged. "That's what happens when a bunch of sickeningly rich people are bored."

Melissande nodded. "Very true and my mother always thought it was ridiculous the way some people behaved, but she was extremely kind-hearted and so she never mocked them or scolded them for their actions. And as a result, everyone loved her and wanted to emulate her even more."

Melissande shrugged again. "I know this angered the First Queen immensely, but I never thought it would make her..." She closed her eyes. "I never thought she was capable of this. But, it's the only thing that makes sense. She wanted my mother gone and I believe I was shot simply because I was a witness that they needed to get rid of."

Dean looked at her and nodded. "Alright. I accept what your saying, the theory makes sense." He frowned. "But what on earth does any of this have to do with my marrying you."

Melissande took a deep breath. "Well, I believe the First Queen is only hunting me down to stop me from being able to testify before the King's Council and the court. As the child of a lesser wife, I have little to no standing in court, but it might be enough to have my testimony be heard if the Council were in the right mood."

She licked her lips before biting the bottom one. "But if I marry you..."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded, finally understanding. "You'd be a married women and married women can't testify to the Council."

Melissande nodded. "Only my husband could testify, and you weren't there, and didn't see anything. And I'm afraid as a Hunter with a...a tainted reputation, your second hand account from your wife would be laughed out of the Council chamber."

She smiled. "As a bonus, I would no longer be a Princess and the First Queen would have absolutely no reason to worry about me as any kind of threat or rival. She'd likely back off, hoping that the story of a rogue thief will cover my mother's death and that I will simply fade into oblivion."

Silence reigned for a few minutes while Dean absorbed all the information. Melissande was wringing her hands in her lap as she finally broke the silence. "Dean, I understand if this is too much to - "

"Alright." Dean interrupted her.

Melissande blinked at him. "Alright?"

He nodded. "Alright. The plan is a sound one, it will keep you safe and give us time and leeway to gather evidence to bring the First Queen to justice, which may also help me find out what really happened with Sam and my father, since I suspect she knows something more about the situation than she's said."

He smiled slightly. "I accept your proposal." He stuck out his hand to her.

Melissande chuckled as she put her hand in his. His warm fingers wrapped around hers and she blushed as her heart skipped a beat. She'd never had such a reaction to a handshake before.

She smiled at him shyly and worriedly. "Are you sure?" she asked. "It's such a big thing I'm asking of you."

Dean nodded. "Yes, Princess, I'm sure." He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure? You're giving up everything, your home, your status, your wealth - to marry a man who doesn't even have a real house to offer you."

Melissande grinned and shrugged. She looked around the cozy cabin. "I don't know, I like it here."

Dean scoffed and chuckled. "Yeah, you can be Queen of the Cabin."

Melissande's smile was bright and her laugh was relieved and bubbling. "I'll take it."

***

Dean insisted that Melissande spend one more day recovering before they travelled to the cleric in the next village over.

Melissande told him he was being ridiculous and she was just fine to travel; they would be leaving in the morning.

Dean told her she was being stubborn and to listen to him.

She reminded him she was a Princess and didn't have to listen to him.

He mentioned that very soon she'd be his wife, not a princess, and therefore, she had to obey him.

Dean had only been speaking in jest, simply fed up of trying to make the stubborn little thing heed his advice and look after herself a little more. But Melissande's eyes had flared with such heat and anger at the word, "obey" that Dean had backed down completely.

He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm only teasing, Princess." He dropped his hands to his side. "Fine, we'll go at first light."

Both of them had a very restless night, and not much sleep was had. In the morning, they were both awake long before first light and shuffled around the cabin getting ready.

Melissande put her chemise back on under his tunic so that her legs were at least slightly covered since there was no way his breeches were going to fit her at all.

He turned his back as she dressed herself, reminding himself the whole time that he was a gentleman, a warrior; he had ethics and morals and they didn't allow him to secretly stare at a young maiden dressing, no matter how tempting it was to watch her reflection in the window pane.

He closed his eyes and turned more fully away from the window until she was done.

"You can turn back now." She said shyly and when he did, he had to smile. In the oversized tunic, with the bedraggled chemise hanging below it, and with her scuffed leather ankle boots, and curly hair flying in every direction she looked like a rumpled ragamuffin, like a child's doll left out in the rain.

But she also wore a becoming pink blush and her skin still seemed to glow as though it was lit from within, and her eyes still moved like quicksilver, hypnotizing and ethereal. She was still a vision.

Dean chuckled, pulling the chair out from the table, and held a hand out, indicating she should sit in it.

"Let me tie up your hair, or it's likely to catch on tree branches."

Melissande ducked her head and tried to smooth down the locks with her hands. "Yes, isn't it awful? It's always been like this, I'd give anything for straight, simple hair." She said as she sat in front of him in the chair.

"My mother used to hate combing my hair because the snarls and tangles always pulled and hurt me. It was one of the only parts of caring for me that she left for the servants."

Dean could hear the sadness in her voice and his heart broke for her. He knew just how painful it was to suddenly have everything you've ever known ripped away from you in one fell swoop. It was continuously exhausting and the truth of your situation often felt like it kept hitting you over and over again, shocking you anew each time.

Knowing there was very little he could do to make her feel any better, he just set himself to his task. He pulled her thick, dark brown curls over her shoulders, trying to think how best to tame it. He only had a gnarled old comb that he used for his own short hair, and he knew it was likely to just get lost in the masses of curls in his hands.

So, he simply combed through it with his own fingers. With each snag he encountered he did his best to ease through it gently and not pull harshly against her scalp. It seemed to be working because Melissande was sighing contentedly as he moved his hands through her hair.

Dean pretended that the feel of the silky strands running through his fingers, and her breathy sighs of pleasure weren't making his whole body go hard.

Finally it was combed enough that he could braid it into one long, thick rope that hung almost to her waist.

When he finished, Melissande seemed thrilled. "Where on earth did you learn to braid so well?"

"Horses." Dean answered with a grin. "We often braid their manes and tails before we take them into a battle. Keeps them out of the way."

Melissande looked for a minute like she was contemplating being offended, but in the end she just grinned too. "Well, I'm grateful for your skills, however they were acquired."

Dean tidied everything and made sure all was in order before they walked back out into the forest. As they traipsed through the thick brush on a barely there trail Melissande was sure she'd never find on her own, she was amazed at the how quickly and silently Dean moved through the trees. She tried to emulate him, tried to step where he stepped, but she knew she was making three times as much noise.

They came out of the forest at the side of an old carriage track, two deep ruts worn into the ground from the thousands and thousands of carriages that had traveled down the path for hundreds of years. Not a proper cobbled road, but a road nonetheless.

They walked down it a ways until they came to a fork where a sign told them to go East to Emerson or West to Waybrook. Dean headed West which made Melissande frown.

"I thought there was a cleric order in Emerson, Waybrook has no church, does it?"

Dean nodded. "That's right but..." He glanced back at her and his expression looked wary. "We have to go somewhere else first, before we find the cleric."

"Where?"

Dean was silent for a moment before he shrugged. "I have to see a...woman first." He looked back at her as he veered off the carriage track again to tromp through the bush. "Come on, Princess, keep up."

Melissande frowned as she scuttled after him, trying to climb up the slowly rising hill they were on without tripping over her own feet. She envied Dean his steady, long-limbed stride as his strong legs ate up the distance quickly and easily.

As they neared the crest of the hill Melissande caught her toe in a raised tree root and she pitched forward toward the ground. She would have ended up flat on her face if it wasn't for Dean spinning back around at the right second and grabbing hold of her upper arms.

He helped her stand straight, keeping his big, warm hands wrapped around her arms longer than was really necessary. As he held her he took a step toward her and Melissande felt her body sway toward him as though she was powerless to control it.

Dean's hands squeezed around her arms and she watched his eyes flick down to her mouth as he bit into his bottom lip. He let go of her so suddenly she almost fell forward again.

"Watch where you're going!" He said angrily as he continued forward up the hill. "You'll break your fool neck."

Melissande blinked at the rapid change, completely thrown and not sure what she'd done to make him so angry. She followed along behind him, trying to be careful she didn't stumble over any other uprooted trees.

When they reached the top of the hill, Dean stopped and as Melissande walked up beside him, she saw that he was staring down into a little valley, awash in purple wildflowers and fluffy wishing blossoms, some of their fluff blowing around in the breeze.

Melissande smiled, delighted. She grabbed on to Dean's wrist and shook his arm, pointing toward them.

"Look! Mother always said that when the seeds blew about in the wind like that, it was the gods sending you good wishes. It's a very good sign; it's telling us that we're going in the right direction."

Dean looked down at Melissande and couldn't stop the warmth that spread through him at her innocent joy. He nodded and smiled indulgently.

"If you say so, Princess."

She skipped down the hill chasing the floating wishes, but as she reached the bottom, Dean strode forward and grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her back and tucking her behind him.

"Show yourself, Rowena!" He called into the empty meadow. "I'm here to collect on my favor!"

Melissande looked up at him from where she stood behind him, only able to see his profile as he scanned the area, frowning. She let out a little squeak of fright as a woman and lovely little cottage simply materialized out of nowhere, only a stone's throw away.

"And what favor is that, Winchester?" The redheaded woman asked, her lilting accent making Melissande smile.

"You know damn well you owe me for the trolls, Rowena."

She scoffed. "Ridiculous! I could have taken them, they just caught me off guard, that's all."

"Yeah, they did." Dean said with a hard nod. "And you and I both know that if it wasn't for me you would have ended up on the trolls' menu that night."

Rowena rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, but didn't argue further.

"Now," Dean continued, "take down your enchantments and let us in."

"What enchantments?" The redhead asked with an air of innocence.

"The enchantments that, last time I crossed into your yard, left me with pus filled boils on my a - " Dean caught himself and looked back at Melissande still tucked behind him and then back at Rowena.

"Just take them down!"

"Ugh, honestly that was one time!" Rowena complained before she snapped her fingers and a misty, purple, and formerly invisible veil, seemed to melt into the ground. "Fine. It's done."

Dean started forward and Melissande followed close behind. She'd never met a real, actual witch before. There were some witches that acted as companions to Royals and Noblewomen, but they mostly brewed up potions and sold smelly concoctions to gullible people to ward off ghosts. Most of them practiced the craft only under the protection of a very powerful member of the court, since technically witchcraft was illegal and the church saw their practices as evil.

As they approached the tiny woman standing on the cabin porch, Melissande thought that despite her size, Rowena seemed to have a kind of power that emanated from her. Melissande was completely intrigued.

As Rowena looked at her properly for the first time, Melissande would have sworn that the interest was returned, the witch's eyes grew wide and real shock flitted across her canny, clever face.

"And what have we here?" She looked up at Dean with a raised eyebrow. "Royalty?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, Rowena, this is - "

"The Princess Melissande, yes - I know that very well." She stepped closer to Melissande and tilted her head. "What extraordinary eyes you possess." She said with a kind of quiet awe.

Dean frowned down at her. "And just what does that mean, Rowena?"

As though snapping out of a trance Rowena stepped back and opened the door into the cabin. "Och! Nothing at all, just excited and humbled to have a member of the royal family in my little cabin."

As they stepped through the little wooden door, Melissande gasped. They had entered a full on castle, a palace. Marble floors and beautifully appointed moldings and furniture graced the massive foyer they were now standing in.

Her mouth was gaping open, and Rowena snapped it shut with her forefinger.

"Now, now, Princess, surely it's nothing you haven't seen in your own home."

Melissande sputtered. "But outside...outside this was a little log cabin."

Rowena looked back over her shoulder. "Yes, dear, one of the benefits of being an all-powerful witch."

She beckoned them to follow her. Dean took hold of Melissande's hand and held her back a moment. He leaned toward her slightly.

"Just be careful around her."

She frowned up at him. "Don't you trust her?"

Dean shrugged. "Yes and no. I just..." He shook his head. "I just don't like the way she looked at you. She's mostly a...friend of sorts, but she's also crafty and quite adept at looking out for herself."

At Melissande's look of concern, Dean shook his head again. "Look, like I said, just be careful."

She nodded and Dean finally led them into the room Rowena had disappeared into. He didn't let go of her hand.

***

"Well, my goodness...that certainly is a story." Rowena said after Dean explained everything that was going on. She poured them all drinks, bringing a glass of amber liquid over to Melissande and handing it to her before patting her cheek.

"I'm very sorry to hear of your loss wee princess. I met your mother once, you know? The stories of her beauty and kindness were true. I see that you've obviously taken after her."

The redhead smiled a warm smile that eased some of Dean's worry. He knew Rowena's conniving smiles from her genuine ones; she was being honest, she seemed to actually like Melissande. Nevertheless, as Rowena turned back to the other drinks, he put a hand over the glass as Melissande went to take a sip, shaking his head at her.

"So, what precisely is it that you want from me?" Rowena asked as she handed Dean his drink before sipping at her own.

"Well," Dean shrugged. "I'm heading over to Emerson to get a cleric to come and perform the wedding ceremony. The marriage has to be performed by a cleric and witnesses must sign, in front of the holy man. That's the only way to make it real and binding."

Rowena nodded. "Yes, and...?" She prompted.

"And, no cleric in his right mind is going to agree to perform a wedding ceremony between a nothing hunter and a member of the royal family." He pouted his lips. "So, I need someone who can take him...out of his right mind."

Rowena was shaking her head while Melissande gasped. The princess set down her drink and stood up to look at him. "You want to incapacitate a member of the church? Do you have any idea how much trouble that could get you into? They could execute you for something like that?"

"Yes and see me burning on a pyre right next to you, if we're caught." Rowena argued. "If you'll remember the church is not overly fond of witches, Winchester."

Dean held up his hands. "What other choice do we have?" He gave Rowena a challenging look. "And I thought you were an all powerful witch, with no love lost for the church? Don't tell me you've gone soft?"

Rowena levelled a look at him that told him she wasn't fooled by his tricks. But she still gave in, with her arms crossed and a frustrated sigh.

"Fine." She capitulated.

"Fine." Dean smiled and stood up. "Alright. What are waiting for, let's go confound a cleric."

***

Hours later, as the sun set, they were back at Rowena's cabin palace, and Dean was wearing out a path in her fine wool rug as he paced back and forth. Rowena's man servant, Bernard, offered him a drink, but Dean waved it away.

"For God's sake what is taking them so long? How long could it possibly take to change out of clothes and into other clothes?"

Bernard said nothing, not that Dean was really looking for an answer. He glanced over at the cleric they'd carted in from Emerson. He still wore a look of blissful stupidity, the one he'd been wearing ever since Rowena had chanted quietly at him and sent a kind of purple fog to settle over his head. Now he just stood, with his hands behind his back, rolling up onto the balls of his feet and down again, like a contented child.

When they'd come back, Dean had wanted to begin the ceremony immediately, but Rowena had balked.

"Are you mad? The child can't get married in that." She curled her lip in disgust and waved a hand at the baggy tunic and ruined chemise Melissande wore.

"Who cares?" Dean huffed. He held a hand out to Melissande. "She doesn't care."

But then he really looked at her and her face told him otherwise. He frowned. "You do care?"

"Well...I mean..." Melissande said cajolingly as she plucked at the old tunic, before giving a shrug.

Dean sighed and shook his head, giving in. "Fine, just hurry up about it."

They hadn't hurried up. It was well over an hour since they'd gone upstairs, and Dean had just begun to be concerned that he'd let his guard down about Rowena's interest in Melissande too quickly, when he finally saw the redheaded witch appear at the top of the stairs.

"Finally." Dean muttered under his breath.

Rowena reached the bottom of the stairs and stared at him. He lifted his hands in question.

Rowena smiled and turned back towards the stairs. "Might I present - for the last time - the Princess Melissande."

Dean was about to say something about the "last time" comment but as Melissande appeared at the top of the stairs, his breath was sucked out of his lungs and all words fled.

He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life, not ever. Not sunrises or sunsets, not wild mountain streams, or vast, inky black skies sparkling with stars. None of them could touch the vision walking toward him.

She wore a pale blue dress, that fit tight across the bodice and upper hips before flowing out loose and light to touch the tops of her little white satin slippers. It left her shoulders bare, but had long, wide, trailing sleeves and a train that swept down the stairs after her. A thin silver belt that matched her eyes sat low on her hips, emphasizing the gentle swell of them.

Encircling her neck was a small scrap of lace tied into a bow in the back. Her hair cascaded down to her waist in thick, heavy waves. The sides were pulled back and braided into a kind of crown and dainty white flowers and blue jeweled butterflies decorated her curls.

And yet for all the beauty and opulence she was adorned with, nothing was more beautiful than the shy smile and bright, shining eyes that she turned up to Dean as she reached the foot of the stairs.

She shrugged one shoulder and smoothed the front of her immaculate gown. "Rowena was kind enough to loan me something, and magic it to fit me just right."

"Oh, I think that the Winchester would agree that it fits you just beautifully, my dear." Rowena said and Dean could hear the laughter in her voice and it pulled him out of his trance somewhat.

He nodded slightly. "Yeah...yes." He cleared his throat. "You look very...nice." He cringed at the completely inadequate word. But Melissande beamed at him and he swallowed hard.

"So do you." She said quietly, reaching out to touch the green velvet doublet that had replaced his leather one. He had traded in his brown leather breeches as well and now wore a pair made of rather snug-fitting, black wool.

Dean looked away, embarrassed. "Rowena made me wear it." He said and realizing he sound like a petulant child, he smiled. "I mean, she magicked some of Bernard's clothes to fit me too."

He turned to face Rowena. "You should get into the tailoring business."

Rowena arched an eyebrow. "Why thank you, but I believe I'll stay in the witchery business, if it's all the same."

Dean grinned and turned back to Melissande. Trying to move past her stunning beauty and keep his wits about him, he gave a small bow and held a hand out for her to precede him into the large library where Bernard and the befuddled holy man were waiting.

The ceremony moved very quickly in Dean's mind. As the cleric droned out his words about fidelity and the roles of men and women within a marriage, Dean could feel the tension rising in Melissande. Dean reached over and slipped her hand into his, squeezing it in reassurance. He heard her exhale deeply and then she squeezed back in thanks.

Finally it was time for their part in the ceremony. In his slightly nasal voice, the cleric asked Dean, "Do you, take this woman to be your wife, to have her, and to keep her, to care for her, honor and cherish her, until the day death parts you?"

Dean answered quickly and clearly. "I do."

The cleric looked to Melissande and intoned, "And do you, take this man as your husband, to give yourself only to him, to love and respect him, to honor and obey him, until the day death parts you."

Unsurprisingly Dean could feel Melissande bristle at the word obey, and it made him want to laugh. He looked down at her and squeezed her hand again. When she looked at him, he shook his head slightly. "I won't worry too much about the 'obey' part." He whispered and winked at her.

She ducked her head and smiled before finally answering. "I do."

"Then as a representative of the great church, the earthly connection between men of the this world and the never-ending heavens, I declare you wed in the eyes of god and man." He smiled bemusedly, his mind still mostly gone.

"You may now kiss your bride."

Shit, Dean thought to himself. I forgot about that part.

But before he could think how to get out of it, Melissande was turning towards him, looking up at him expectantly and Dean decided that it wasn't a big deal. He'd just place a simple, chaste kiss on her lips and that would be that.

That was not that.

He leaned down and watched Melissande's eyes flutter closed seconds before he placed his lips gently on hers. But the moment he felt her petal soft lips beneath his own, the moment she let out a soft, breathy sound of pleasure from the back of her throat, he was lost.

He brought both hands up to cup her jaw and opened his mouth to pull in her bottom lip and suck on it. She sighed into the kiss and tentatively began to kiss him back, pressing her tongue gently against his upper lip.

It was the slightly pathetic sound of Rowena and Bernard clapping that brought Dean back to reality. He pulled back abruptly from the kiss, dropping his hands and making Melissande stumble slightly forward since she was leaning into him.

Dean marched away to sign the documents they had to in order for the marriage to be legal. Bernard and Rowena acted as witnesses and the cleric happily (and somewhat drunkenly) signed his sanctification of the union.

They moved off into the dining room where Rowena had somehow managed to put together a feast of stuffed pheasant and roasted spring vegetables. She had wine and port and ale, and she gave of it freely. She told Dean that she'd given them a room to stay in for the night, and shown it to Melissande earlier.

Her extreme generosity, once again made Dean watch her with some suspicion. Why was she being so helpful and benevolent? It wasn't exactly her first instinct.

But throughout the evening they all ate and talked easily and no hidden agenda surfaced. Bernard returned from taking the cleric back to his small church and spent a couple of hours regaling them with stories about his life years before when he lived as a seafarer, riding the high seas and visiting exotic lands.

Finally, the night grew late and Melissande stood up from the table. "Well, thank you, so much Rowena and you too, Bernard. You've both been so kind to us."

She placed her hands on the flat bodice of the dress. "The gown was so lovely, I'll be sure to return it to you in the morning."

Rowena shook her head. "Och, no my darlin', that is yours to keep. I couldn't possibly wear it again knowing how much more beautiful it looked on you. I'd be jealous."

Melissande grinned. "Well, thank you...for everything."

Rowena nodded to her. "Goodnight, Princess."

Melissande smiled softly and shook her head. "I'm not a princess anymore."

Rowena just shrugged. "Well, my dear, I've come to realize that some of us, regardless of title, were simply born to be queens." She lifted her chin and brushed a lock of red hair back off her shoulder, giving Melissande a wink.

The former princess laughed lightly and then caught Dean's eye. "Goodnight." She said quietly.

Dean smiled and hoped he didn't look too pained as he contemplated the pleasure to be had if he could simply follow her upstairs, lay her down on the bed and...

"Goodnight." He said quickly, trying desperately not to allow any more of those thoughts to run through his head.

Melissande glided out of the room and it was everything Dean could do not to run, drooling, after her.

After a few moments silence, Rowena stood up. "Come Bernard, let's leave the groom to his bride. They've a long night ahead of them."

Dean scowled at her. "Knock it off, Rowena."

She opened her eyes wide in innocence. "Well, you do, I'm just saying..." She patted his shoulder. "Do try to keep it down, won't you?"

"Enough, Rowena!" Dean said in a growl.

The witch stared at him for a moment, head tilted slightly like he was a puzzle she couldn't quite understand. She waved at her manservant.

"Go on up without me, Bernard. I'll be along shortly."

He nodded and left without question. Dean scoffed as he went. "And just what kind of spells have you confounded that one with, to keep him so obediently at your side."

Rowena sat across the table from him and leveled a glare at him. "Believe it or not, Winchester, some men find me irresistible enough, without the need for a love potion. Bernard is very taken with me, that's all."

"But," she said forcefully, "that is not what I stayed behind to talk to you about. I want to make sure that you're not going to be stupid enough to leave that poor, beautiful creature waiting for you. You are planning on going upstairs to her? Yeah?"

Dean rolled his eyes and looked away from her. "How I spend my night isn't really something you need to concern yourself with."

Rowena scoffed. "Except that I like your little princess very much and I don't particularly want to see you break her wee, innocent heart."

At Dean's continued silence, Rowena kicked him under the table.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Dean grumbled.

"Go up to your bride, ya numpty!"

"Dammit, Rowena, enough. Not that it's any concern of yours, but I have no intention bedding her! She's just a kid and she's not interested in being pawed at by me."

Rowena was silent for a moment and then shook her head. "That young woman is the most stunning creature I've ever seen, and she is most definitely not a 'kid', ya daft - "

Dean looked across at her, his expression thoroughly unimpressed. "Rowena, I'm not discussing this with you."

In spite of his statement, Dean ran his hand through his hair and continued. "Look I married her to keep her safe, not to...jump all over her like some kind of...animal."

Rowena was shaking her head. "My god," she whispered, "men are so stupid."

Dean shot her another glare and she leaned across the table towards him. "Listen to me closely." She spoke slowly. "She wants you to jump on her, ya great buffoon!"

Dean just scowled at her again. "Good. Night. Rowena."

Rowena threw her arms up in frustration as she rose from the table. She smacked Dean on the back of the head as she left.

"Just end your misery and hers and go...sanctify your vows." She said as she walked out of the room.

Dean sat at the table still littered with remnants of food and liquor and emptied his mug of ale with one swallow. He shook his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried not to think about how Melissande's lips had felt as they moved tentatively against his.

He thought of her upstairs, laid out on the bed waiting for him and suddenly his borrowed breeches were much too tight. He gritted his teeth against the ache in his body that had been steadily growing since he'd first landed on top of her in the forest, days before.

He shook his head and poured himself a glass of wine. And then another, staying down in the dining room until he could be sure Melissande would be sleeping.

***

Melissande's nervousness had been climbing since she'd come into the room Rowena had directed her to earlier. It was beautifully decorated of course, with lovely cherry wood furniture, expensive wool rugs, and of course, a large, soft, bed in the center of the room.

She'd gotten ready, pulling off the beautiful, blue gown and replacing it with the soft, white, silky nightgown Rowena had given her earlier. She covered it with the lacy dressing gown the witch had laid out on the bed for her.

Then she sat down on the end of the bed, waiting for Dean to come. She waited and waited, and just as she began to wonder if maybe, he'd gone to the wrong room, she heard him outside the door and her heart started pumping desperately in her chest.

He walked through the door and stopped short when he saw her. He was so handsome in his deep green doublet that stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, with his tight breeches, encasing his powerful thighs, that Melissande felt her breath stop in her chest as she forgot to breathe.

He stared at her silently for a few moments, just blinking at her. His jaw was clenched tight and she wondered at it. Was he angry?

She gave him a small smile. "Hello." She said, not sure what exactly the proper greeting was to welcome your husband into your bed. She felt herself blush and her heart beat even faster.

Dean stared at her from the doorway for a minute more before he walked in and shut the door behind him, leaning against it.

"I thought you'd be asleep." He said, his voice low and a bit abrupt.

Melissande raised her shoulders in a slow shrug. "I was waiting for you." She said quietly, unsure of what his mood was.

He breathed deep through his nose, making his nostrils flare, while the muscle in his jaw continued to flex and jump.

"Well," his voice was definitely harsh now. "we've had a very long day, you should be sleeping."

Melissande frowned and spoke softly. "It's our wedding night."

Dean stared at her so intensely she felt scorched by it. But after a minute he turned away and his voice was that of a general on a battlefield.

"Go to sleep, Princess."

Melissande opened her mouth to argue and he pointed a finger at her.

"Now."

Melissande clenched her own jaw tight now, fury at his highhandedness making her get up and stomp around to the side of the bed, ripping back the covers to get underneath.

She continued to fume as she lay there, cursing her new husband. Just hours earlier, he'd claimed that the obey part wouldn't come into their marriage and yet here he was, ordering her about after all.

She heard him lay down on the floor beside the bed and she nodded to herself. Good, she thought, he knows he's gonna get kicked if he tries to lie here beside me.

But she couldn't help but feel cheated out of having him next to her.

She held onto her anger as long as she could because she knew what was lying under it and she didn't want to feel it. But soon enough the anger burned away and there was only hurt and embarrassment left behind. She felt the hot tears well up and she couldn't stop them from falling.

She tried to be quiet but he heard anyway and he sat up, his head appearing over the side of the bed.

"Are you..." His voice was incredulous. "Are you crying?"

Some of her anger sprang back up at his tone. She rolled over, facing away from him. "What do you care?" She asked, cringing slightly at how childish she sounded.

He was quiet for a while and she tried to tamp down her tears, but couldn't.

"Stop crying."

The ridiculousness of that grumpy order made her sit up and throw a pillow at his head.

"You're an imbecile." She said heatedly through her tears. "Just leave me alone and go to sleep! You're so keen on a good night's slumber."

She fluffed the one pillow she had left and huffed herself back down onto it. She could feel his gaze on the back of her head and she brushed away the tears that continued to fall, desperate not to embarrass herself even more. She closed her eyes and buried her face into her pillow.

She didn't hear any more movement from Dean, so it made her jump when she felt the bed dip behind her and a big hand wrap around her shoulder.

His voice was soft now and sad. "Please stop crying, Mellie."

Melissande sat up quickly and his hand fell away. She shifted to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over the side. She brushed away more tears as Dean moved to sit beside her.

He was looking at her and she finally looked back at him, feeling her stomach flip in that pleasant way it did when he was close.

He reached out and brushed away some of her tears now. He shook his head. "Why are you crying?"

Melissande looked away, staring into her lap and trying to gather her thoughts, they tended to scatter when he touched her.

She'd been so unsure about what would happen tonight, but when he'd kissed the way he had after the ceremony, she thought she understood, thought he'd wanted her. But she was obviously wrong.

She shrugged, speaking quietly. "When I...became a young woman, my mother sat down with me and..."

Melissande knew she was blushing and wished she wouldn't.

"...and she told me that if I...chose my husband well, someone who was kind...respectful. Someone who...who wanted me, desired me, someone..."

She looked up into his emerald green eyes and sighed. "...someone that I wanted back..." She turned her face back down to her lap. "Then she said, the...marriage act could be beautiful."

"The marriage act?" Dean asked.

Melissande looked back at him with a frown. "Yes, the marriage act. The time a husband and wife spend together in their bedroom. Why? What do you call it?"

He licked his lips and his eyes dropped to scan her body and Melissande felt exposed to him.

He cleared his throat and nodded. "No...yeah, the...the marriage act, that's what I call it too."

Melissande was quiet for a minute before she looked away again, staring at her hands in her lap. She shrugged.

"But I chose wrong." She said, feeling the tears clog her throat again. "I chose someone who...doesn't want me, doesn't desire me."

She risked a glance at Dean just in time to see his face break into laughter.

Melissande felt frustration and embarrassment lance through her again and she threw up her hands, before angrily swiping away more tears.

"Someone who is now laughing at me."

Dean waved his hands. "No, Mellie, I'm sorry. I'm not...I'm not laughing at you."

She shot him a doubtful look. "Then just what is so funny."

He was shaking his head and then looked up at the ceiling like he was seeking help from the heavens. "Nothing, nothing...I just...no, nothing."

He sighed. "Mellie, you didn't...choose me." He said, with a look that said she was nuts. "You married me to keep yourself safe." He reached out his hand and brushed her hair back from her shoulder.

"And I will keep you safe, from everything, and everyone." He gave her a small smile. "Including me."

It was Melissande's turn to look at him like he was mad. "You really are an imbecile." She said in wonder.

Dean shook his head. "Um...thanks."

She moved a little closer to him and took hold of his hand. Dean stared down at their joined hands for a moment before looking back at her.

"Dean, I chose you when I was seven years old." He scoffed, and looked away, but she moved even closer and gripped his hand tighter. "For almost as long as I can remember I've believed that you were the man I would marry someday. My mother believed it too. She would always say to me, 'That's a worthy one, my darling.' and I knew she was right."

Dean looked back down at her and she couldn't decipher the emotion in his eyes, she couldn't place it. He looked...sad? Maybe confused?

She lifted his hand up and ran her fingers along the back of it and then over his palm. She shook her head in wonderment. "Your hands are so beautiful." She whispered.

He scoffed. "They're rough and scarred." He said, his voice a deep, quiet rumble in his chest.

Melissande looked up at him and brought his fingertips to her mouth to kiss them gently. "That's why they're beautiful."

She stared up into his perfect face and shook her head. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" She asked him in awe.

He frowned, but smiled softly. "I think that's supposed to be my line."

Melissande shook her head and gave him an impish grin. "No, I already know I'm beautiful."

Dean chuckled and the sound was so warm that it drew Melissande closer to him. She still held his hand and now she clasped it between her own.

"The question is, what kind of beautiful am I to you." She said, gazing up at him, so close to him now she could feel the heat that radiated from him.

"Am I beautiful like...a painting?" She continued. "Something...flat and cold...lifeless?"

She watched the muscle jump in Dean's jaw again and reached her fingers up to brush against it.

"Or, am I beautiful like the flames of a fire?" She licked her lips and got as close to him as she could. "Warm, and...dancing, vibrant?"

She put her fingertips to Dean's mouth and spoke low, hardly believing she was daring all of this. "To me, you're beautiful like fire."

Dean closed his eyes and grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling her hand away from his mouth. She thought he was going to push her away, but instead he used his grip on her to yank her into his lap before dropping her hand to pull her mouth to his.

"You're fire." He breathed against her lips before he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss that scorched them both.

She felt his tongue press hot against her lips and she gasped, and then gasped again as he pushed it, hard and wet into her mouth. Her muscles clenched low in her belly and the feeling was almost painful in its intensity.

Melissande couldn't catch her breath even as he pulled away from her mouth and moved his lips across her jaw and down her neck. He pulled the tie of her dressing gown free and pushed the robe off her shoulders, groaning deeply as he looked at her in the filmy nightgown beneath.

The sound of his pleasure made goosebumps shoot across her skin and she cried out harshly as he wrapped his lips around her nipple, soaking the mostly see-through material of the nightgown.

She pushed her fingers through his hair, instinctively holding his head in place to keep his mouth pressed against her breast. Everything she was feeling was new and in some ways terrifying. But also exhilarating and absolutely full of fire.

Suddenly their door banged open and Bernard stood there.

Melissande squealed and dove under the covers while Dean turned to face the door.

"Get out!" He roared at the manservant and Melissande felt sure he was about to forcibly remove the big man from the room. But before he could reach him, Rowena darted around from behind him and held up her hands.

"I do apologize for cutting your honeymoon short, but I'm afraid I have some bad news for all of us."

Dean scowled at her to continue.

"Well, you see there is an entire garrison of the Kings Guardsmen not a quarter mile away."

She crossed her arms, her dark eyes filled with fear. "And I don't believe they'll be here to wish you well on your wedding."

[seijorhi]

Outrunning Fate

As promised (though I am more than a little late for Shiratorizawa Week), the soulmate AU

Tendou x female reader x Ushijima

TW stalking, possessive behaviour, implied non-con

Soulmates were supposed to be a blessing.

It was a fairytale that you’d grown up hearing about. One person who was supposed to be wholly yours.

Your parents were soulmates, even if you hadn’t always understood the concept, the proof of that remarkable, unshakable bond was always right in front of you. It wasn’t in the big grand gestures, it was little things - the soft, adoring look in your father’s eye as your mother passed him his coffee every morning, the way she always sought out his touch when they were together, even if it was just to twine her fingers with his, or the way that they always seemed to be able to sense when the other was upset, and wordlessly found the perfect way to comfort them.

Your father never had to tell you that he loved your mother, but he did, every single day. He told her too, just to see her smile.

It seemed effortless, easy, as if their love for one another was as natural as breathing. How could you be blamed for looking at your bare wrist, waiting for the day that name would appear in scrawling black ink, feeling that excited fluttering in your chest because you knew one day you’d meet your soulmate and have that perfect, fairytale love all for yourself.

Except it wasn’t like that.

Something went wrong.

***

You’re fifteen and barely paying attention in class when your skin prickles uncomfortably. Your heart leaps into your chest as you tug up the sleeve off your blazer, watching wide eyed with bated breath as a name appears on your wrist.

Tendou Satori.

The beginnings of a smile start to curl at your lips, but it freezes in place as more inky black writing appears below the first.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

A second name. 

And suddenly, it feels like your perfectly crafted world begins to fall apart. Two soulmates aren’t unheard of, but they’re incredibly rare and you can’t deny that there’s a certain… stigma attached to it. 

What kind of a person isn’t satisfied with just one? 

This is supposed to be some magical, thrilling moment for you, but instead all you can focus on is the pounding of your heart and the growing wave of nausea that rises in the back of your throat. Quickly you yank your sleeve back down and before you can even think to stutter an apology to your bewildered teacher, you’re out of your seat and sprinting down the hallway to the bathroom. You barely make it before hurling up your guts. 

After that, you start wearing long sleeves wherever you go.

It’s not that you’re ashamed, you tell yourself as you bite your lip and try your utmost to fade into the background whenever the topic comes up in conversation, it’s just that… other people aren’t always so accepting.

You’ve tried to get used to the disgusted looks, the invasive questions and the insults that follow you wherever you go, but it’s easier said than done. You hate that your cheeks still burn scarlet whenever you catch someone staring at your marks, almost as much as you hate the way you quickly duck your head in shame and race to fix your sleeve.

‘It’s okay, honey. I know it’s not what you expected but… it just means there’s one more person out there waiting to love you with everything they have. You’re twice as lucky as the rest of us,’ your father had told you on that horrible day. You just wished it hadn’t sounded like he was trying to convince himself at the same time.

***

You’re seventeen and the first boy who kisses you tries to shove your hand down his pants because he knows you’ve got two names on your wrist, and that means you’re up for anything, right?

You run home with tears streaming down your face and when you shower that night you scrub at the marks like you’re trying to erase them entirely.

What did having two names mean really? That one wasn’t enough? Would they be content sharing you? Would they even know of the other’s existence?

You could only imagine how horrifying it would be for them, spending months, years waiting for you only to realise that they didn’t really have all of you…

Would they hate you? Could you even blame them if they did?

Sometimes… sometimes you think it might be better if you didn’t have a soulmate at all, instead of this. It’s easier just to ignore it, pretend they don’t exist, pretend that you’re not gonna ruin their lives. Who knows, maybe you’ll be one of those few who never actually meet their soulmates. You can live with that, you think. You have a family who love you, a bunch of close friends who’d die for you - who needs stupid soulmates?

***

It’s the morning after your 18th birthday, your head is still pounding from the alcohol and bad decisions from the night before when your curiosity finally gets the better of you. It’s the modern age, most people live their lives online, you figure you’ll find a facebook page, a twitter account maybe.

Instead, the first item that comes up in your search is a video. It’s a news segment about a volleyball game - some high school team that you’ve never heard of, but you listen to the commentator talk and your heart leaps into your throat because they mention the Ace by name and suddenly there he is. Tall, dark haired and imposing - Ushijima Wakatoshi.

But you don’t even have a moment to breathe, to focus on the absolute beast that is your second soulmate and his terrifying spike because the camera shifts and suddenly there’s another player in focus. Tall, gangly with bright, spiky red hair and a too-wide grin, “-not the only player in the spotlight after today’s match; Shiratorizawa’s middle blocker, the so called ‘Guess Monster’ Tendou Satori-”

You close the browser window and slam your laptop shut.

They’re… friends, or teammates at the very least.

It feels like a bad dream you can’t wake up from. This whole thing is already messy enough, but you can’t get in the middle of that, you refuse to make everything worse for them just because the fates have decided to play a cruel joke on you.

If there were any lingering doubt left in your mind that you’re better off burying your soulmates, they’re well and truly put to bed.

That night, you dream of a cheering crowd, the thwack of a volleyball ricocheting off a vinyl floor and two menacing figures looming over you.

With your final exams around the corner, it’s almost too easy to put the video and your soulmates out of your mind as you throw yourself into studying. Months pass in the blink of an eye and suddenly you’re dressed in black robes and holding your high school diploma. You celebrate with your friends, dancing wildly with a care-free grin long into the night because you know you’re finally getting out of there for good. Tokyo’s a big city, you’ll lose yourself there and nobody, not a single damned soul, will know about the two names that grace your wrist. It’s as close to freedom as you’re ever gonna get - and god that makes you so fucking happy.

Your bags are packed and you’re holding your parents as they sob and then, like that, you’re gone. 

Tokyo awaits.

***

It’s not that easy to outrun fate.

Living in Tokyo ain’t cheap, even for the shitty little shoebox apartment you rent while you’re studying. You manage to find a job at one of the Americanised diner style cafes just down the road from where you live two weeks after moving in. It’s popular with students because it’s open till late, the coffee’s good and the waffles are exactly what the doctor ordered after a long night of drinking with your friends. You’re just happy because the pay’s pretty decent and your boss lets you bring in your laptop and textbooks so you can study when it’s not too busy. You’re not nearly as thrilled about the short, revealing blue dress that serves as your uniform, but you know when to pick your battles.

It’s a little after one o’clock on a slow Tuesday night, the cafe’s almost empty and you’re propped up on your elbows along the countertop, absentmindedly thumbing through one of your assigned readings for class tomorrow when you hear the tell-tale chime of the door opening.

You hastily shove your books aside, plastering a wide if not a little artificial smile across your face, you glance up to greet the customers, only to freeze in place.

Your heart skips a beat.

Of all the cafes in the sprawling city, of course your soulmate has to walk into this one.

With his wild, spiked red hair and easy, sloping grin, Tendou’s unmistakable as he strides through the cafe with two other guys you can only assume are his friends. You suppose you should be a little relieved that he barely spares you a glance as the threesome make a beeline for one of the corner booths, but it’s hard to feel anything other than blind panic at the sight of your soulmate only a few feet away. It’s purely out of habit that you reach for your wrist and the skin coloured bandage hiding your traitorous marks, and you allow yourself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief when you feel it still in place.

A loud cackle bursts through the quiet atmosphere of the cafe and you dart a glance over to see Tendou with his head thrown back laughing at something one of the others has said. There’s an uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach and your cheeks redden just a touch. It’s not an awful sound (not at all), but your pulse is racing and you think you just might be sick because this is all… too much.

You’d left them in the past along with whatever fairytale fantasies you thought having a soulmate would bring. You… you’re happy being alone and coping just fine without either one of them! They were a dream - a distant possibility you’d long since locked away, you weren’t supposed to ever actually see them!

At least it’s only Tendou, you think you might actually combust if they were both here. Still, there’s a faint tremor in your hand as you brush a lock of hair out of your face and try to regain control of your breathing.

As much as you’d like to run, or preferably, have the earth suddenly open up and swallow you whole, you know you can’t. For one, you’re the only server left until close and your boss might be easy going but somehow you doubt he’d let you keep your job after a stunt like that. More importantly, you have a sinking suspicion that causing a fuss will only draw his attention and that’s the last thing you want. He doesn’t know who you are, your mark is safely tucked away under your bandages, this will be fine.

It’s an hour and a half until close, he and his friends will get some food, eat, drink and chat amongst themselves and then you can kick them out and it’ll all be over. You barely have to interact with him. For all he knows you’re just a server in a random cafe - this will be fine.

Robotically you force your legs to move, carrying you towards your oblivious soulmate. You’re pretty sure that your smile’s a little off and you haven’t quite managed to quell the shaking in your hands as you reach for your notepad, flipping it open.

It’s the best you can do, especially when there’s a voice inside your head that’s all but begging for you to turn around and pretend this whole thing never happened. 

Tendou appears to be thoroughly engrossed in whatever story he’s telling his friends, waving his arms around wildly when you reach their table. Normally you’d clear your throat politely and wait for them to settle down before introducing yourself and asking for their order, but when you open your mouth - nothing comes out. It’s like your whole throat has suddenly dried up and you’re just standing there gaping like an idiot, but Tendou hasn’t even noticed.

The ashy blonde to his left, however, does. His eyes flicker to you and you swear that you can see the faintest trace of amusement as he takes you in. He smirks, quickly shoving an elbow into the redhead’s side and jerking his chin in your direction. 

“Hey loudmouth, pipe down would you?”

Your breath catches as he turns around to look up at you and grins, “Ah, sorry. Didn’t see ya there!” 

The other two have picked up their menus again, but for whatever reason just as Tendou’s gaze starts to slide off of you, something catches his attention and stops him in his tracks. Like a magpie spotting something shiny in the distance, those big, droopy red eyes suddenly widen and zero back in with unnerving interest. Frozen with that fake, half hearted smile painted across your lips you feel strangely like a bug caught under a microscope as Tendou studies you - there’s really no other way to describe it. His head tilts to the side and he makes a low noise from the back of his throat that almost sounds pleased.

He can’t know, there’s no possible way, but if he doesn’t then why the hell is he staring at you like that?

It’s all you can do to remain rooted in place, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs that you’re sure they have to be able to hear it too. Whatever he’s searching for he apparently finds because his grin widens and he leans back in his seat and chuckles. “Why’d you look so nervous, we’re not gonna bite - promise!” 

The other guy at the table rolls his eyes, “Tendou, don’t scare the pretty waitress, she’s just trying to do her job,” he chastises, offering you an apologetic smile that does little to ease your nerves. “Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

You swallow and hum in faint acknowledgment, and he takes that as a sign to begin his order. 

You were hoping that they were just going to get some drinks and be out of your hair, but as he starts listing off various snacks and appetizers to share and the ashy blonde throws out a few more, it looks like your nightmare is only just beginning.

You nod dutifully, writing it all down. The cook is just going to love you for this, but there’s not a whole lot you can do about it. “Anything else?” you ask in a voice that just barely passes for what your boss deems ‘customer service appropriate’, decidedly not looking towards the redhead who is still staring at you.

He hasn’t looked at the menu once since you walked over, actually you doubt he’s looked at the menu at all, but it doesn’t seem to matter because he pipes up regardless, “Yep, one of those thickshakes, you know - the really good strawberry one, annnd-”

“Y/N, order up!!”

Your soul leaves your body at the exact same moment that Tendou’s pupils dilate and snap to your wrist.

The pen in your hand is shaking, your grip so tight that it’s a wonder the flimsy plastic doesn’t shatter as you turn to glance over your shoulder. The cook is leaning out across the overpass, staring at you with a scowl and vaguely you register the hot plate of food in front of him which can’t have been sitting there for more than a minute at the most. You give a weak nod, earning you a dismissive grunt in response, before turning back to the table.

All three of them are staring wide eyed and open mouthed at you. 

Fuck. 

They know. They have to know.

You should have legged it when you had the chance.

Breathe. Smile. Play dumb. This is fine.

“A-anything el-”

“Somethin’ wrong with your wrist?” Tendou asks slowly, eyeing the bandage like he wants nothing more than to snatch it up and rip it away from you. His fingers flex and you don’t even have time to brace before they’re shooting out towards you-

A hand catches his forearm before he can touch you - it’s his friend, the dark haired one with the crew cut, who’s currently staring down the erratic redhead with a distinct frown. 

It’s the blonde who speaks up, “Sorry, he’s had a few drinks tonight. The idiot sometimes forgets his manners in public.”

The music is still playing in the background, somebody laughs at the table a few down from theirs, but in this little pocket, trapped between the three of them with the tension thick enough to slice with a knife, the silence is oppressive.

And then Tendou’s attention shifts back to you and your stomach flips - it’s like the floor has disappeared beneath your feet and you’re suddenly careening through the empty air with no hope in hell of slowing down.

He looks… well, mad is the wrong word. Tendou is technically smiling, but his grin stretched slightly too wide, his eyes a little too intense. There’s an emotion you can’t name etched across his pale features, and it’s unsettling… it scares you a little, if you’re being honest.

You swallow and take a tiny, shaking breath. “I-it’s fine. I tripped last week and sprained it.”

“Clumsy, are you?” he asks, prying himself free of his friend’s grip.

A laugh forces its way out, grating and too sharp to be believable. “Yeah, I guess. Your food won’t be too long, if you need anything else, just- just let me know.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond as you all but flee the table. You’re shaking and almost in tears by the time you reach the kitchen, the cook takes one look at you, a grumpy admonishment on the tip of his tongue, and falters.

They stay until close, and you avoid them like the plague.

Hours later, lying tucked up in your bed your skin still prickles from the thought of Tendou’s piercing stare. Maybe if you’d kept some kind of a level head through it all instead of acting like a flustered school girl, he might have just passed it all off as a coincidence. 

But you hadn’t, had you?

It wasn’t just that he knew who you were to him (and to Ushijima) but that after all your blushing and stammering, the pitiful attempts at hiding your soulmate marks and the way you all but ran from him the very first moment you could, he had to know that you knew as well. That despite coming face to face with your soulmate, you lied - you rejected him.

You mom once told you that the first time she laid eyes on her soulmate the world stopped spinning and all she felt was joy. Maybe there’s something wrong with you after all, because despite the insistent tug in your heart, you just feel sick. Despite being exhausted after your long shift, sleep that night doesn’t come easy.

It’s two days later that you find yourself back in the cafe, working a rare day shift on your only week-days off from classes. You keep glancing up at the door every few minutes, half dreading the possibility that any moment, Tendou and his friends are going to walk in, but they don’t. 

Ushijima does, a little after the lunch rush dies down.

He looks so out of place against the vibrant backdrop of the 50’s style diner, all serious and stoic, that if he were anybody else you might think he was lost. 

But he isn’t lost, because he’s staring right at you.

You don’t notice one of your co-workers sliding up to you until they laugh and playfully nudge your side. “Ah, I see the eye candy is back. Try and pick up your jaw, Y/N,” they tease.

Back?

Instead of finding an empty table to sit himself down at (and give you a minute to mentally prepare) Ushijima is making his way straight over to the counter, unsmiling and huge. How was he even bigger in person?! He could crush you with his thighs alone!

“He’s been here before?” you ask quietly, unable to draw your gaze away from him. 

Your co-worker snorts. “Yeah, he came in last night, he even asked for you by name. Seemed kinda disappointed when I told him you weren’t on until today. You holding out on me, Y/N? I thought we were closer than that. You know you’re supposed to tell me when you start dating a hot ass dude!”

They slip away with a wink before you even have a chance to respond and you’re left floundering as Ushijima approaches. Your mouth is dry, your pulse racing. Just like with Tendou, you have no escape, nowhere you can run or hide.

He asked for you by name.

Fuck. You should have quit when you had the chance.

Ushijima isn’t smiling. Where Tendou had been beaming with chaotic energy from the moment he walked in, your second soulmate seems almost stony as he stares at you with serious olive eyes. You honestly can’t tell if he’s frowning or if that’s just the way his face is, but it makes your gut twist regardless. 

It might also be the fact that he’s towering over you without even trying to. He has to be at least 6’3” but it’s not just his height that’s imposing - he’s brawny and muscular and, yeah, huge. Briefly you remember the news clip you’d seen of him, the terrifying brute force behind his spike. 

He seems to be waiting for you to speak, so you swallow down the lump in your throat and try to remember how to breathe like a normal person. “Hi, can I get you anything?”

Something briefly flickers across his face, but otherwise his expression remains distressingly neutral. “… I would like some tea.”

You nod - it’s like pulling teeth. “Yeah, sure. We uh, we actually have a few different kinds…”

He makes a rough noise of acknowledgement and then… pauses. Instead of the menu, Ushijima studies you. His lips twitch into the faintest hint of a… smile? You can’t quite tell, but it looks out of place regardless. “I will have whichever you recommend.”

You can’t seem to be able to form words, so you settle with nodding, gesturing for him to take a seat while he waits. 

His eyes don’t shift from you, nor does he make any attempt to mask the fact that he’s staring right at you. When his tea is ready, you all but beg your co-worker to take it to him. 

“Trouble in paradise?” they ask, waggling their eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” you mutter, but they take the tea regardless, and you busy yourself in wiping down tables and pretending that you can’t see the scowl from the volleyball player burning across the diner. 

It really isn’t. 

Even after tucking any thought of meeting your soulmates away there was always some tiny part of you - a part you were always so desperate to ignore - that wondered how it would feel to meet them, to be loved by them…

But while your heart squeezes with every glance, it’s not warm, dizzying bliss that floods your system and sends blood rushing to your cheeks. You don’t know what the feeling is that curls in your stomach and claws its way up your spine, but it’s nothing good. 

Something went wrong with you, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Ushijima stays for an hour, finishes his tea and makes his way back to the counter to pay. 

He's wearing a grey hoodie, running gear underneath, and when he hands you the money, passing it directly into hands, his sleeve rides up. There, plain as day, is his soulmate mark.

Your name, written in black ink on Ushijima's wrist, forever marking you as his.

You jerk, flinching away from him, but he doesn’t make a move to cover it. 

“You cannot run from us, Y/N. We are your soulmates, we’re bound together.” His voice is little more than a murmur, but there’s an edge to it, sharp and pointed. Not so much a statement as a fact, as undeniable as your name on his skin, on Tendou’s.

He says it like it’s a promise, staring into your eyes with that impenetrable gaze and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

“Why are you so determined to fight it?”

You swallow, taking the cash from his hand and punching it into the till. “I’m sorry, whoever you think I am…” you trail off, finally raising your eyes to meet his penetrating stare. You’re quietly proud of the way your voice doesn’t shake, even as your heart races like a hummingbird in your chest and your palms sweat. “I’m not.”

The only sign that Ushijima hears you at all is the subtle furrowing of his brow and a distinctly displeased hum from the back of his throat. 

“I hope you enjoyed your tea.” The cutting barb slips from your lips before you can stop them, but there’s a certain vindictive satisfaction you get in watching his eyes widen, the brief hurt that flickers across his face. 

Of course, it only lasts a fraction of a second before his features school into a blank mask and he nods.

“Perhaps I will try another the next time I see you.”

And with a short bow, he walks away.

You leave your apron behind when you finish your shift at the diner, and you don’t come back.

There will be other jobs.

***

It’s not enough. 

They start showing around campus. 

The first time you catch sight of Tendou, you’re running between classing, cursing the ridiculous schedule that has you attending two back to back lectures on opposite sides of the campus. It’s just a glance - a flicker of red in the corner of your eye. The only reason you stop at all is because you're so focused on not being late that you fail to see the crack in the path until you’re tripping over it. The books in your hand go flying as you sprawl across the pavement.

“Huh, you really weren’t kidding about being clumsy, were ya?”

A pale hand stretches out before you, and just like with Ushijima, Tendou doesn’t bother hiding the soulmate mark as he grins down at you with those wide, creepy eyes. 

You ignore it entirely, waving it away as you pick yourself up with a grunt. The skin on one of your palms is grazed, and you’re pretty sure that your knees are too, but all in all it could be worse. It’s more your pride that smarts, that and the fact that of all people to see you trip, it has to be him.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby. I’m only try’na help you!”

You scowl, snatching your textbooks out of his offered hands. “I’m not your baby, Tendou,” you mutter.

You regret the words immediately. His grin slowly widens and he makes a sound, somewhere between a shudder and a moan - it’s almost pornogaphic and wholly inappropriate and it sends blood rushing to your cheeks, but you don’t have time to think about it. 

“I’m already late, just-” you break off with a sigh, readjusting the strap of your backpack, staring resolutely at the ground. “I’m not what you want, what… what either of you want. Just leave me alone, okay?!”

Tendou doesn’t say a word as you walk away, but just like always you feel the burning stare following you until you’re out of sight. 

Somewhat stupidly, you think that’ll be the end of it. The gloves are off - you might not have said it in as many words, but there’s no point denying it any longer. They are your soulmates and it doesn’t change a thing.

There is something wrong with your bond.

But they don’t see it like that. 

They figure out your schedule, take it in turns to wait outside your classes, ambushing you whenever you’re alone. 

“I have a game tomorrow,” Ushijima tells you on a rainy Thursday afternoon as he follows you home. “I would like for you to come.”

It doesn’t seem to bother him that you walk a few steps ahead (or try to at least - his legs are ridiculously long) with your head bent down, ignoring the steady rainfall that threatens to saturate you. Tendou usually fights for your attention, grabs at your hands, your waist, any part he can reach just to touch you, but Ushiwaka seems content to merely be near - so long as you stray too far.

“I have exams to study for.”

He hums noncommittally, “Tendou will be there.”

All the more reason not to go. 

The silence between you two is heavy.

“It would make me… happy, if you came,” he tries again.

Your eyes squeeze shut for just a moment. You hate it when he does this, when he acts like you’re the one being stubborn. Like you haven’t told him, told them both to stop a thousand times before. Like they haven’t ignored it at every turn, blatantly refused to acknowledge that you don’t want them like they want you.

Shouldn’t ‘no’ have been enough?

You’ve considered reporting it to campus security, or even the police, maybe trying to get a restraining order or something like that, but what would you even say - ‘Please Officer, sir, my soulmates are stalking me’? Yeah, that’ll go down a real fucking treat. 

“Why…” you trail off with a sigh, forcing yourself to stop walking.

This time he does reach for you, taking your hand in his. It’s warm and rough from years of volleyball and hard work, and you hate that it’s already so familiar. His expression is as stoic as ever, but there’s a quiet reverence in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he can’t quite believe you’re really there with him. You suppose in another light, it might almost look romantic, the two of you holding hands under his umbrella, lost in your own little world as the rain pours down around you.

He seems to be waiting for you to finish your thought, so you buck up whatever dregs of courage you still have and try again, “Why can’t you just… move on? I don’t want this- this thing, whatever it is between us.” You sigh, tugging your hand back, “I just want to be alone, why can’t you respect that?!”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, staring at you, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the back of your palm.

But then he shrugs, easily, as if you’re merely discussing the weather and not their continued overbearing and unwanted presence in your life. “We love you. More than anything, and despite your… reservations, we belong together, what other reason does there need to be?” He pauses, his gaze softening just a fraction, “You’ll come around eventually,” he adds.

A tiny part of you crumples at that. What’s the use in arguing with a brick wall?

***

It’s a minor relief when you walk out of your last lecture for the day the following afternoon. It might be because it’s a Friday and you, for once, have absolutely no plans for the weekend, but realistically it’s more to do with the fact that you know no one is waiting for you outside. Ushijima has his volleyball game, and Tendou will be there with him, cheering from the sidelines. 

You should be happier, really, but there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been there since Ushijima left you at your door last night. 

They’re not going to stop. 

Instead of listening to the professor talk, you’ve spent the last three hours searching university transfers. You love Tokyo University, you love Tokyo - the big, bustling city you’d gladly lose yourself in again and again, but it can’t be your home, not when they’re here too.

There’s a University in Kyoto, it has a similar program to the one you’re already in. It’s a surprisingly easy process to change - your grades are decent enough, all you have to is apply. One simple click of a button. It’ll take a few weeks for it all to go through, which’ll give you enough time to figure out how you’re gonna upend your entire life without them realising - assuming of course that Kyoto university accepts the request.

If you soulmates won’t let you go, you’ll run, and you’ll keep running. Maybe you’re wrong, maybe one day you’ll look back at them and feel that same love for them that you’d seen in your parents instead of that black, cloying unease that twists at your guts, but so long as they don’t give the choice, what options do you have?

You’re not stupid, this… thing that they’re doing, the stalking, monopolising your time, trying to drive your friends away, it’s not the end game. What happens when they get tired of you ignoring them?

“Hey, Y/N wait up!”

For a moment your heart seizes, but it calms almost immediately when you realise the voice isn’t the one you’re afraid of. 

You turn to find one of the guys from your last lecture walking over. He’s kinda cute, in a lost puppy kind of way, and he’s nice, for the three conversations you’ve actually had with him. Honestly you’re a little surprised he actually knows your name (considering you’ve definitely forgotten his) but you smile back regardless. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You doing anything tonight?”

Netflix and crashing early, but you’re hardly about to tell him that, “Not much, why?”

He smiles, and for a moment you’re taken aback by just how utterly endearing it is. He really is cute. “Me and a few friends are having a party tonight, you’re uh, you’re welcome to come. Y’know, if you’re not doing anything,” he says with a laugh, throwing in a wink for good measure.

But his smile fades a little as he catches a glimpse of something behind you. You frown at the odd reaction, turning instinctively to see what drew his attention when a weight drapes across your shoulders and you find yourself being pulled into a sideways embrace.

“There you are, baby! I was starting to think you’d gotten lost,” a familiar voice drawls. “Who’s your friend?”

You can’t see Tendou’s expression as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but from the way your classmate blanches you can imagine that it’s not pleasant. Still you have to give him credit, he only falters for a second before he’s rubbing the back of his neck and offering a sheepish smile, “Oh, hey, uh… yeah, I’m-”

“Punching a little above your weight, dont’cha think?” Tendou cuts him off with a snort, nuzzling in just a little closer. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear, “I thought Ushiwaka told you about the game tonight.”

You shiver, although whether it’s from his softly edged words or the kiss he presses against your cheek, you’re not entirely sure. “He did, I-I told him that I had to study…”

Tendou laughs, squeezing you tighter, “Psh, is that all? Baby, we can help you study later. C’mon, or we’re gonna miss the start of the game.”

And like that he’s tugging you away. With Tendou’s arm wrapped snugly around you, you don’t even have a chance to turn around and apologise to the guy. He’s done it purposefully, a reminder you suppose of who you belong to - though for your classmate’s benefit or yours you honestly don’t know. 

Ushijima’s already on the court by the time Tendou and you arrive at your seats (front row of course) but he glances over as you both settle down and his lips quirk into the faintest hint of a smile.

It would make me… happy, if you came, he’d said.

You don’t miss the razor sharp, anticipatory gleam in his eyes, though. 

He destroys the competition. You still remember that brief clip you’d seen years ago of his brutal spike - it seems like time has only served to make it more lethal. The rest of his team is undeniably good, you doubt Ushijima would join a club made up of anything less than the best, but still, he’s in his element and without a single doubt the strongest on the court. 

For every point he scores, Tendou cheers wildly. Halfway through the second set you can see that every player on the other side hates Ushijima - if the scowls and muttered snarls they’re shooting his way are anything to go by. You can’t exactly say you blame them for it either. They’re demoralised and angry, frustrated by the huge Ace and his indomitable force and even though he’s not a part of the team, Tendou revels in it. There’s a song he starts to sing, some inane jig that flows too naturally to have been made up on the spot. You can almost imagine him on the court beside Ushiwaka, singing it after stealing point after point from the other team. The two of them must have made a formidable team on the court.

They still do, you suppose.

You’ve never been one for volleyball, or sports in general, but even you can’t deny the sense of feral anticipation in the air as Ushijima steps up to serve on match point. Tendou has his hand wrapped tightly around yours, leaning forward in his seat to watch the spectacle. You can’t say you blame him.

You might hate him, but you can’t deny that his serves are a sight to behold. Your heart thumps as he throws the balls up, runs and launches himself into the air. His legs are arched, his form perfect and you still can’t quite believe how high he manages to get considering his size -

And then he hits the ball, palm slamming into the leather with a resounding smack - it flies over the net, damn near knocks the poor Libero off his feet as he tries to save it, but even that isn’t enough to stop it. The ball ricochets off his receive, spinning into the crowd and just like that - it’s all over. 

Ushijima roars in victory, and Tendou turns to you, red eyes wild and delighted. You don’t have a moment to breathe, much less prepare yourself before his lips are crashing against your own. 

The deafening cheers of the stadium fade out. 

You can feel his racing pulse as he clutches you close, the unrepentant enthusiasm that pours through him as his tongue dances across your bottom lip, begging for entry. You’re stuck still, frozen in place as your soulmate steals his first kiss.

Somehow when you pictured this moment as a little girl, you didn’t imagine that it would be fear that floods your veins, that the soft, breathless laugh that Tendou gives as he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours would scare you instead of making you feel safe and loved.

They walk you home together. It’s unnerving enough with just one of them, but with both your soulmates flanking you you’re more on edge than usual. 

Or maybe it’s the slightly weird energy you can sense between the two of them. Tendou hasn’t stopped grinning since he kissed you and Ushijima still seems a little wired from his win. He hasn’t said much since the three of you left the stadium, but he’s holding you closer than normal, an arm slung low across your back, his fingers brushing possessively along your hip. 

God, Kyoto can’t happen fast enough. 

There’s a lump in your throat as you reach your apartment. They’d offered to take you out for dinner after the game finished - to celebrate Ushiwaka’s crushing victory over ‘those poor assholes’ as Tendou had put it - but despite the pit of hunger in your stomach, you’d politely refused. The less time spent with them the better.

Surprisingly, both Tendou and Ushijima had taken it in stride without so much as a peep.

But now you’re at the front door, keys in hand and Ushijima still has his arm draped around you. It’s not like they haven’t been in this position before, but despite all their gentle cajoling (well, gentle is relative - Tendou whines petulantly and Ushijhima just seems to hover silently like an overgrown bat) they’ve never actually been inside your apartment. 

It’s your one sanctuary, and you very much want to keep it that way.

“Y’know, ‘Toshi and I’ve been thinking,” Tendou begins, snatching the keys out of your hand before you can stop him, chuckling and swatting at you when you try and grab them back. “Me ‘n the big guy, we really do love you, baby - head over heels, heart racing, butterflies in your stomach kinda love. It’s kinda sappy, actually. You have no idea how happy you’ve made us.”

The key slides into the lock and he twists it, pushing your door wide open. His eyes flash to yours and he grins, bowing as he gestures towards the open apartment. Your open apartment.

An invitation.

You blanch. “Um, I-I don’t think-”

Stupid of you to think you ever had a choice in the matter - Ushijima’s arm is an iron wall against your back, pushing you forward as he crosses the threshold. 

Tendou follows behind the two of you, and the click of the door shutting behind you echoes far too loudly in your small apartment. He tosses the keys into the little dish on the kitchen counter - where they always go when you’re at home - and winks at you.

“I mean we are your soulmates so I ‘spose it’s kind of a given.” He shrugs, leaning back against the countertop, folding his arms over his chest. “But we can’t help but notice that you seem a little… uneasy around us. And I get it, baby, really I do. You’re just a little shy - it’s cool.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as Ushijima’s fingers curl around your jaw and he tilts your face to the side to meet his intense stare, “You’re being unnecessarily stubborn,” he elaborates.

A flicker of amusement dances in Tendou’s eyes at his bluntness. “We tried it your way - taking it slow and steady, trying to ease you in but, well… I think we can all agree your way isn’t working all that great.”

Your eyes snap back to him, “What?”

His grin widens, “So we figured it’s time we try it our way. We’ve been so good, baby! D’ya have any idea how hard it’s been to hold ourselves back?”

Ushijima’s grip is unrelenting, but that doesn’t stop you from frantically trying to fight your way out of it as Tendou pushes off the counter and stalks over to the two of you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, “Been waiting so long for this. Wanted to fuck you on the tables back in the diner in that cute lil’ uniform of yours.” He smirks down at you, his pupils blown wide and dripping with lust. 

No. No, no, no! You shake your head frantically as he closes in, “Stop, wait! Let me go, LET ME GO! I-I don’t want-”

Your panicked words are cut off as Ushijima suddenly spins you around to face him. His hand cups your cheek, enveloping it entirely, and his broad thumb strokes the soft skin gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, little one. You just need to see - to feel what we feel for you.”

Whatever retort you have is swallowed up as he closes the gap between you and kisses you. He’s demanding - unrelenting - forcing your mouth open so that his tongue can taste yours. Distantly you register Tendou slotting in behind you, the unmistakable bulge that presses against your ass as he attaches himself to your neck. “Shh, baby,” he murmurs between kisses, fingers sliding to the hem of your top. “Let your soulmates take care of you, hm?”

It’s not like you’ve ever had a choice in the matter.

[taeilskitty]

Hii

I noticed your request is open

I'd like to request celibate doyoung smut with arranged marriage au!

Would appreciate it if you could add a lot of nipple play!

Thanks!

Thank you so much for the request!! I really enjoyed writing this so I hope it was good enough. Enjoy love <33

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

He was nice enough, he was respectful and pretty funny, good company too. It wasn’t such an issue that you were going to have to be together for, well, ever.

Forever is a long time. In all honesty you’d always dreaded your wedding day because you knew there was no chance of marrying someone you actually loved; that’s a fantasy you knew you’d just have to live out in your next life. But the first time you were introduced to your future husband, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you could make the most of it.

You weren’t best friends by any means, let alone lovers, but at least you were on the same boat. Both living with parents who had a plan since before you were even born, a prophecy they’d already written out for you. Whatever.

Maybe the knowledge of your fate was the reason for it, but you were never overly concerned with love. Of course you wanted it, but you’d learned to be your own person too. And that was great. Doyoung had once admitted that he was relieved about that; “I was worried you’d be disappointed,” he’d told you, “because I can’t do… any of that.”

It sort of warmed your heart. He was fairly open with you, and for that reason was sure not to cross any of your boundaries. You liked that about him. You could certainly get used to seeing his face everyday. And honestly it helped that he was… really fucking hot.

Your wedding was actually really nice, what with all things considered. You made the most of the celebrations and he seemed really calm as opposed to you who was frankly scared shitless. His family liked you, your family liked him, and most importantly you liked each other - or at the very least you tolerated each other.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” you laughed once it was all over. “Thank you for making the day a little less scary.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N. Honestly.”

You smiled at Doyoung and looked back out across the moonlit sky. It was proving to be an emotional night, a surreal one at that.

“Before we met I was scared you’d be some creep, like, a total weirdo.”

“You seriously think your parents would let someone treat their kid like shit?” Now he was the one laughing; you both knew your parents were a lot of things, but they’d never want to see you get hurt.

“Okay, fair,” you agreed, and turned back to face him. “I’m surprised they didn’t dump me with someone crazy ugly though.”

Doyoung smirked. “Oh?” His eyes darted away momentarily. “So you do like me. Huh.”

Something told you he was only half kidding, but the giddiness in your gut made you wonder if this was the feeling all the blockbuster romance movies tried to convey. You weren’t in love. But you sure were glad it was him next to you right then.

“Don’t get so cocky.” He gasped sarcastically in response to your playful rejection. “I’ll put up with you.”

“I give it a week before you’re head over heels in love with me.”

Standing up, he looked back sort of expectantly.

“You wish. I think you just want me to be in love with you.”

“You’re married to me,” Doyoung scoffed. “C’mon. Let’s head inside.”

You stood up and looked at him for a moment. He still had that glint in his eye that suggests something isn’t quite right, like he’s waiting for something.

His beauty is… almost unfair. There’s no way your parents’ taste in men was this good, especially when picking some guy out for you. It made no sense - how was he so attractive? You knew it wasn’t just the light because, let’s face it, anyone can see how hot he is.

You sighed, and you shook your head when he asked if something’s wrong.

Doyoung placed a hand on your shoulder. He seemed far more nervous than he did before, particularly when you stepped in just a little closer. He could practically feel your breath mixing with his; your lips almost brushing against each other.

“What?” You ask when he breaks eye contact. “Never kissed anyone before?”

“Actually, no…” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I wanted to wait till I was married. It just feels weird that now I am…”

You weren’t sure why this shocked you, but it kind of made sense. Of course he’d waited, he was so angelic. Not even necessarily innocent by any means, and honestly it wouldn’t have bothered you if he’d slept with 1 or 100 people before. But somehow this made him… cuter?

You vowed not to laugh. You wanted to, not because it was funny or anything, but because it was just kind of endearing. You smiled at him.

“That’s okay, I’m no expert at it.”

Doyoung was silent for a second, but he looked back down at you with confidence in his eyes.

“My parents made a good choice with you.”

The space between your lips finally closed.

-

Despite having no experience, Doyoung knew how to draw whines out of you and kiss you in a way that sent butterflies to your stomach. He tugged on your bottom lip and held you with just enough force to make you feel the perfect amount of helplessness. It came naturally. The kissing, the touching, the clothes coming off. He even took the time to admire your body. How the fuck did he get so perfect?

“You’re really gorgeous, Y/N…” he muttered against the skin of your neck, your hands wandering into his hair. “I’m so glad we found each other.”

“Mmh-” A gentle moan escaped you when he grazed his teeth over your sweet spot. “You’re - you’re so hot.”

Doyoung chuckled a little bit and lay back on your now-shared bed. You’d clambered on top of him nervously, adrenaline coursing through your body, excitement chasing after it. He couldn’t hide how hard he was, not in those boxers - and there was no way you could ignore how big his cock felt strained against you.

“I - are you okay with this?” He asked, pulling away for a moment. The look in his eyes was sincere.

You nod. “God yes.”

That’s when he pulls you back into the depths of his kisses and hisses when your hand tugs at his boxers. He’d waited so long for this moment, and it was happening with someone he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to marry. The pair of you were nervous of course, but the mutual understanding you had was enough. The fact that Doyoung had already asked if you were comfortable made you want him even more for some reason.

“Ride me,” he breathed. “Please.”

Doyoung’s cock felt so fucking good. It stretched you perfectly, which hurt a little more than you’d like to admit but the feeling of him inside you just felt… wow. He threw his head back as you moved on him slowly.

“God, fuck, keep doing that baby,” he moaned.

Baby. The pet name sounded incredible coming from him.

“Yes sir,” You mocked, but the way he cursed under his breath when you said that told you he was into it. “Oh you want me to call you that, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” He was blushing just a little, and brought your lips to his again. “Don’t try and tease me, I can’t take it. Not this time. Seriously.”

Something in Doyoung’s voice sounded desperate. You wanted to taunt him so badly, but despite the fact that he’d never done this before, it made you wince with pleasure to think of all the things he could do to you when you get more comfortable with sex. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed up and down your collarbones, bucking his hips up into you. He mentioned how tight you were, how good you felt around his cock and how bad he wanted to cum in you. The rasp in his voice sent you reeling, and you tried to reply but when he took your nipple into his mouth you almost started crying with pleasure.

“F-fuck!!”

It was one of the most incredible sensations, his tongue lolling around the bud paired with his cock deep inside you. The way his teeth nipped against the sensitive skin was enough to make you both cum. You felt… amazing. Clenching around his cock, you dug your nails into his back and whined far louder than you intended; a hand began to play with your other hardened bud and sent your mind into oblivion.

“So good…” He moaned, kissing along the width of your chest to switch sides. The sudden cold air against your spit-sodden nipple made you shudder but the coolness was a part of what made it feel so much better. Doyoung’s tongue flicked and played with you to an unconscious rhythm played by the fingers opposite, not at all in tune with his hips now snapping against you but fuck it felt good. He sort of whimpered, not in a submissive way but in a way that sounded overwhelmed with pleasure. He was clearly enjoying what he was doing, his cock buried in your hole and his mouth on your chest; it was like he’d dreamt of this moment. He’d never admit that he had, not yet anyway, but the anticipation leading up to him finally getting to fuck was a lot for him. As for you… you were no stranger to fantasising. You’d wanted sex for a long time. It felt so much better than you could have hoped; it sure helped that Doyoung actually took the time to focus on how you felt too, but really you were perfectly happy grinding on his huge cock alone.

It slowly built up. The friction was unbearably good. The sensation of his mouth against your chest, his hand gripping your waist for dear life, his cock sliding in and out of you -

“Fuck, fuck--”

You came, hard, clenching and panting and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you did so. “That’s it,” Doyoung breathed, “cum for me baby.”

You rode your orgasm out on him and tried so hard not to let your entire body jerk with each thrust he made after you came, until finally he followed suit. He moaned into your skin and god, he sounded perfect. The noises that came from the man’s mouth were nothing short of beautiful. This was heaven, or at the very least Earth’s closest replica to it.

“Ah,” he panted, still inside you, allowing the both of you to come down from your high. “Thank you, love…”

“No, thank you,” you laughed. “That - I didn’t think it would feel so good.”

The smug look on his face was pretty hard for him to hide. “Hah. Well. Me neither, to be honest.”

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes once more and you just felt so comfortable. A kiss came so naturally once again, and you realised that maybe, just maybe, spending the foreseeable future together wouldn’t be so bad.

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

But it would be a lie if you said you couldn’t see yourself falling for him.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Fake Dating drabble No. 6

I'm back with 1.6k of Marcus Pike (x F!Reader) who offered to be your date to your class reunion while you were drunkenly moaning about it after work.

Fake Dating Masterlist

Warnings: alcohol (i think that's it)

This was a bad idea. You knew it from the time you had asked him. Which was 80% the fault of the beers you had that night. The combination of alcohol and a missed lunch hadn’t been the best idea.

“My ex-husband is gonna be there. And I don’t want to be the divorced miserable wife I certainly not am. Cause I’m much more happy without him,” you rambled on. You looked at your boss sitting next to you. You had been out to celebrate. After months you finally had made an arrest on the case you had been working on ever since your boss got here almost a year ago. Your boss. Marcus Pike. Perfect, pretty, Marcus Pike who was looking at you with his soft and warm brown eyes with his teasing smile. His lips always looked so damn soft… Wait, was he talking?

“What?” you asked. He chuckled.

“If you don’t want to go alone I do look good in a suit,” he shrugged, bringing his beer bottle to his lips and you had to blink a couple of times until his words made sense in your drunken brain.

“Are you offering to be my date to my class reunion, Agent Pike?” you asked.

“I guess I am,” and then he winked at you with his stupid gorgeous eyes.

Yeah. Stupid idea. Not because he was your boss, but because you had the biggest crush on him. You could control it at work, you were a professional after all, but spending time with him outside of work seemed to be the challenge. Which wasn’t often, but often enough to make you beyond flustered just with the way he was looking at you.

Okay. You could do this. This is just like the time you went undercover with him on that event. This would be different though. Because you went to school with those people and well, because of your ex husband. You thought of canceling but he would probably make it seem like you were still the heartbroken little girl you had been back in school. And you should be over your school and ex-husband trauma but you were also petty as fuck. You lost way too much weight to not show it off. Giving yourself one last look in the mirror you smiled at yourself as you heard the doorbell.

It was just like being undercover. Right?

It was not just like being undercover. You noticed that as soon as you opened the door for Marcus who was dressed in black, cleanly shaven and looking at you with a soft smile that would have made you swoon if he wasn’t standing directly in front of you.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you boss,” you winked with a grin.

“Ready to hear our cover story?” he asked as he waited for you to lock your door. You turned around, taking his offered arm as he led you to his car.

“Shoot.”

“We fell in love while working together,” he started the car and you nodded.

“Impressive. Good cover story. So thoughtful,” you teased.

“I know right?” he grinned and you shook your head with a smile as he began to drive. Most of the car ride was spent in a comfortable silence, yet you felt yourself growing nervous the closer you got.

You almost jumped when you felt his hand on top of yours on your thigh. Looking at him you smiled softly at him, the nervousness you felt before replaced by a warmth spreading through you. Shit you really had it bad for him. You made a mental note to yourself to not drink any alcohol tonight. You tend to get very affectionate while drunk. And Marcus Pike had made it very clear that the last thing he was looking for was a relationship after everything that happened with his last relationship.

It was like time just stopped as you walked through the doors of your old school. Even the smell was the same. You shook your head to yourself as you walked next to Marcus.

“This is like a really bad throwback,” you groaned as you walked past your old classroom. He chuckled before you felt him take your hand in his.

“I hated school. Or more like the people,” you sighed looking at him.

“So you’re here to…”

“Show everyone I’m not the sad ugly girl they had bullied for years? Sad. I know,” you shrugged as you walked within towards the big doors leading to the big hall where music was already playing.

“And to show off your new boyfriend?” he teased and you smiled. Was he… flirting?

“It’s sad, I know,” you groaned and he stopped walking.

“I did the same thing 10 years ago with my wife,” he said and you looked at him with big eyes.

“Yeah. I was the typical nerd in school. Try being a teenager who’s into art. High school was hell.”

“Aww you were already into art in school? That’s so cute. I would have dated you,” you winked.

“Yeah? Good thing we found each other then, huh?” he winked back and this time you did feel your cheeks growing warm at the look he gave you. If he noticed he didn’t show it.

“Come on. Let’s get some disgusting punch.”

Against all odds you really had fun. Marcus posed as the perfect boyfriend and you didn’t have to play the heart eyes you were giving him the whole evening. If you had only this night to play out your little fantasy of dating him, you would take full advantage of it before you had to make yourself fall out of love with him. Because he was your boss and you loved your job.

“The man over there keeps looking at you,” Marcus whispered against your ear. You were dancing to some cheesy song you didn’t recognize. Turns out Marcus Pike could dance. You frowned before you followed his eyes, seeing your ex husband stand there with none other than Babara Miller, the girl who had made your time in school a living hell.

“That’s my ex husband,” you rolled your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his hand on your back squeezing you lightly.

“Yeah,” you smiled up at him. For one moment you wished this would be real. That you could tell him that you loved him. That the look he gave you was genuine and not just an act. You breathed in deep. You didn’t want to be here anymore. This felt wrong. Fake. He seemed to pick up on that.

“Wanna get out of here? I’m starving,” he whispered.

“Please,” you nodded. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and you were close to tears before you felt his hand squeeze yours as he walked you out.

20 Minutes later you were the two fanciest dressed people at the hot dog booth Marcus had taken you to.

“These are really delicious,” you hummed, trying to look not like a starving animal as you ate. Marcus chuckled.

“I know. I got lost in the neighborhood in the first week I got here but I found the best hot dogs in the city, so I count it as a win.”

“Totally,” you nodded, taking a sip of the coke he had bought for you.

“So you live around here?” you asked.

“Yeah just two streets this way,” he pointed to your right.

“I guess I should get a cab home so you don’t have to drive all the way back to my place,” you suggested, but he shook his head, reaching over to you.

“No. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you drive home alone at night?” he asked and you sighed.

“You mean fake boyfriend,” you said and he only looked at you, his stupid gorgeous eyes not leaving yours. You bit your lip, looking away from him to set down your coke at the booth. When you looked up he seemed to have gotten closer. You didn’t miss how his eyes seemed to linger on your lips before he looked into your eyes.

“Yeah. Fake boyfriend. But even as your fake boyfriend I’m not letting you just get a cab home. I’m driving.”

“Okay okay,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

“You want a milkshake boss?” you asked.

“Make it chocolate.”

“Thank you for doing this for me,” you said as he walked you to your door. You still had your milkshake, peanut butter, in your hand, your other hand searching for your keys.

“You’re very welcome. It was nice. We should do that again,” he said and you looked up at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You mean more awkward class reunions?”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“No. This. Us together. Hanging out after work,” he stepped closer and you smiled a little.

“Hanging out? How old are you? 14?” you teased and he rolled his eyes with a smile.

“I really, really had fun tonight. With you. And I’d like to take you out. On a real date. Let’s say next Saturday?” he asked and finally, you gave in to the stupid grin that you had tried to suppress the whole evening.

“You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?” you asked and he frowned.

“No, why?”

“Cause then I couldn’t do this…” you whispered before you got on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Taglist:

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[jingyismom]

Thoughts on Lan Wangji’s uncomfortable position during Sunshot

Rated T, pre-relationship wangxian, cw for harrassment, suggestive language, no other warnings, canon compliant

~

During the Sunshot campaign, Lan Wangji only had the reputation of being peerless and pure before the fighting began. It is entirely possible that this, plus his position and appearance, could have resulted in jumped-up heirs from lesser sects thinking him easy prey.

He came into it late, too, after leading the Wei Wuxian-finding mission with the Jiangs.

Imagine this beautiful young cultivator in spotless white appearing in a city filled with men primed for war.

Worse, imagine the fragile state of Gusu Lan and their dependence on these alliances.

Lan Wangji is politically aware, even though he's not held to the same standard as his brother. And when these men loom out of dark corners spewing lewd remarks and making even lewder requests, he wants to kill them. If the situation were different, they would come away at least maimed.

But he cannot afford to be rash. Not when the Cloud Recesses is not yet rebuilt. And he is in no real danger - if one of them tried to touch him he would feel no qualms taking a hand in recompense. So he...lives with it. For months.

Lan Xichen has other, more important troubles on his mind, there is no need to make him aware. It is just men indulging their baser instincts. It is nothing.

Except. Over time. It begins to wear on him. Its true he's only the second master of Gusu Lan, an ornament, a bargaining chip. A thing. He begins to feel like a thing. And after weeks, then months, of bloody fighting and unceasing, unseemly comments on his body, his face, his mouth - he begins to feel like a dirty one.

One night, Wei Wuxian is walking between tents during the push for Nightless City. He hears gruff voices, liquor-proud, making obscene offers not far away. He tenses and strides over, resentment rising beneath his skin. How dare anybody in this army treat a fellow soldier this way?

He comes around a corner and freezes. Lan Wangji is there, practically glowing in the black of night. Is he already taking care of the problem?

The voices continue to jeer. Lan Wangji doesn't move.

Is he...with them? It can't be possible that Lan Wangji would...hang around...anyone like this.

Wei Wuxian peers closer at him, still hidden in shadow. His face looks. It looks...weird. Wei Wuxian still has trouble reading Lan Wangji, but he knows this is...not his normal face. It's tense. Like he's angry. That, he's seen before, maybe too often. But there is the slightest furrow to his brow.

Like he's torn. Or...helpless. Which is, well. It's ridiculous. Lan Wangji is incapable of helplessness.

Still, the strangeness of it kicks him into action. He comes out into the firelight ready for a fight.

And pauses once more.

There are four men Wei Wuxian doesn't recognize facing Lan Wangji.

Blocking his path. They're saying things...the things they are saying. Are. Are far worse than any of the hushed, private joking Wei Wuxian has been privy to among friends. The things they are saying are forceful. Joyfully violent.

And they're saying them to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji's eyes snap to him immediately and go wide, but Wei Wuxian doesn't see it. His vision is bleeding out to tones of red and gray, Chenqing clutched tight in one shaking hand. He points it at the men. They laugh. They don't yet know what he is, what he can do. He's happy to show them.

He raises his flute to his lips, only for a hand to catch his elbow, to drag it back. He shakes it off. He's going to rip these sorry excuses for men into small pieces, and then make their ghosts thank him for it. He's going to--

"Wei Ying."

He looks at Lan Wangji's face, right beside him now. It isn't stern, or reprimanding. It only looks tired.

He stops. Looks back at the men. 

"I was just speaking with Nie-zongzhu right over there," he lies, bringing up the only name he can think might strike fear into these animals. "Shall I go and get him, and let him hear what trash is fighting alongside him in his righteous war?"

The men scowl and leave. He turns to Lan Wangji.

"Lan Zhan," he says, confused and still unsteady with rage. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Lan Wangji says. He lets go of Wei Wuxian's arm and turns to go. Wei Wuxian catches his in turn.

"Nothing? Nothing? Lan Zhan, why did they think...why did they think they could say such things to you?" He knows Lan Wangji could have ended their lives with one strike. "Why were you letting them?"

Lan Wangji does not look at him.

"Because they can," he says. He tries to break away, but Wei Wuxian holds on.

"No," he says firmly. "They can't."

Lan Wangji turns to face him at last. "Why not? They may speak as they please to the second son of a broken clan."

Wei Wuxian bridles. "A broken - Lan Zhan-"

"If Gusu Lan is to recover, it cannot afford animosity from any who might give it aid." His voice is hard and sharp as steel. "Their words are of no consequence. Their coin is a different matter."

"No consequence?" Wei Wuxian asks. "Lan Zhan. They were saying..."

"I know very well what they were saying," Lan Wangji says, and pulls away at last. He leaves Wei Wuxian staring after him in open shock. 

Lan Wangji is mortified. He tells himself he is merely concerned about what he almost witnessed Wei Wuxian do to those men, but in truth is he is shaken. Scared, and tired, and very much ashamed. That Wei Wuxian has witnessed the way mere strangers could reduce Lan Wangji so easily to nothing. For the first time in his life, Lan Wangji feels uncomfortable in his own skin. And now it is as if Wei Wuxian knows. As if he knows that Lan Wangji is just...just a blank canvas for any passing uncouth fantasy. He both is and isn't the Second Jade of Lan - He is not untouchable, not in mind, in spirit. He is neither peerless nor pure. But he is not human, either. Not real in any way that counts.

And now Wei Wuxian, almost the only person that counts, can see it.

They do not speak of it. The war rages on. They fight, side by side, and protect each other.

Wei Wuxian does his best to protect Lan Wangji off the battlefield, too. Tries to make sure he never walks past strange tents alone at night, without being too obvious about it. He knows Lan Wangji wouldn't thank him for it, and their friendship is tenuous as it is. Still, the expression he'd seen on him that night haunts Wei Wuxian. He doesn't want it to make a home on his beloved face.

After Nightless City, though, things change.

Wei Wuxian isn't respected, exactly. But he is feared. When he speaks, cultivators at least pretend to listen. They've seen now what he's capable of.

He hasn't forgotten those men. Hasn't forgotten the lurid, barbaric pictures they dared to paint over Lan Wangji's undeniable impeccability, nor the unforgivably horrible way they'd managed to make Lan Wangji feel.

But there have been other things to take care of.

Until the banquet.

After the battle, after Wen Ruohan has been killed, liquor is bountiful as cultivators and foot soldiers alike make merry, preparing to feast. Jin Guangshan, now that things are over, has opened his purse to the victors, and none of them intend to waste it.

Once Wei Wuxian has recovered, once Lan Wangji has deemed him well enough not to need healing music any longer, they lose track of each other in the busy work of cleaning out the city, of preparing to celebrate a job well done.

But when the night arrives, Wei Wuxian is hurrying back to the Jiang quarters alone to join their contingent and head to the banquet. He's late, partially because he's him, and partially because he does not want to go. But Lan Wangji will be there, and he hasn't seen him in days.

He hears voices down a parallel street. Rough and loud. Familiar.

He turns and is halfway down the connecting alley before consciously deciding to change course. Dozens of voices whisper in his ears of vengeance, of justice, and black smoke licks his skin.

He sees them, lit harshly by the bright moon, washed out, pale and ugly, leering. He doesn't care what they're doing, who they're talking to. They have to pay.

"Wei Ying."

Lan Wangji's face swims into view, suddenly close. He looks nearly wild with concern. Wei Wuxian realizes Chenqing is already pressed to his lips, the first notes of a fierce melody dying on the air. Lan Wangji is gripping his wrist.

"They are not worth your life," he says."

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to disagree. Lan Wangji's fingers tighten. Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and looks away from his steady, grounding eyes.

The men are still there, daring to look at them. Brazen.

"You have nothing better to do than lower the value of this entire street by merely standing on it?" Wei Wuxian calls to them.

They shift uneasily. But one of them lifts his chin, defiant.

"Who are you to discipline us? We're not Jiang or Lan, you can't speak to us this way."

Wei Wuxian angles away from Lan Wangji, faces them fully. Lets the shadows grow longer all around him. Pitches his voice low and calm. "Oh? Can't I?"

Three of them begin to back away, but the mouthy bastard stands firm. "You've no claim on us nor that one. What, is ruining our celebration your idea of fun? He's been acting all high and mighty all the while we've been down in the mud. It's high time he takes a turn on his knees."

Wei Wuxian flinches as if he's been hit. He doesn't look at Lan Wangji. He can't manage it, can't believe he's allowed this to happen again.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji pleads beside him. "The banquet. Your shidi and shijie are waiting for you. Lotus Pier needs you."

Wei Wuxian's breaths have gone erratic and shallow. He cannot kill these men. He should not. It would be...there's a reason. Lan Wangji doesn't want him to. He cannot kill them.

But he cannot leave it be, either. Something dark and animal rears up inside him.

"No claim?" He repeats. "What claim could I or my sect have on miserable refuse such as you? What claim could I possibly need in order to teach you a lesson? Cutting your throats would be

counted as a service to the world. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

The man crosses his arms. One of his companions is pulling frantically at his shoulder. "Give me one good reason why I can't bend that pretty thing over my knee."

A vicious snarl rips out of Wei Wuxian's throat and he lunges forward, but he's held back. Lan Wangji is holding him back.

"Why are you stopping me?" He bites out at him. "Why aren't you ending them yourself?"

Lan Wangji is angry now, enraged, Wei Wuxian can see. Why is he still letting these men breathe?

"Because my duty to my family comes first. As does yours. Wei Ying, think. Alive, they are nothing. Dead, they are an excuse to deal a killing blow to both our sects."

Wei Wuxian clenches his teeth and rips his arm out of Lan Wangji's grasp. He's right. Wei Wuxian hates that he's right.

The resentment is burning him up from the inside with no outlet. But Lan Wangji is looking at him, holding him steady with just his righteously angry gaze. 

"Well?" Calls the man, who apparently has a deathwish. "I'm waiting."

"For what?" Wei Wuxian bites out, not looking at him. "Leave if you value your life."

"Waiting for you to give me a reason we can't have him. It's just one night. Who's to know? Who's to care?"

It's a ridiculous question. Beyond ridiculous. There is no single reason - the best one is that Lan Wangji would have the perfect excuse to kill them if they did indeed try. But Wei Wuxian is past thinking clearly. He sees only the worn, tired anger in Lan Wangji's eyes. 

The dark, animal thing in his chest strains against his hold, bucking and shaking, trying to get free. Trying to curl around Lan Wangji and protect him from anything that could dream of making him feel so exposed.

"One reason?" Wei Wuxian asks, then turns to look at them again. He lets the resentment free, lets it seep out into the night in curling, questing tendrils. Entirely without thinking, guided by some deep-seated, abhorrent instinct, he wraps his arm around Lan Wangji's waist. "He's mine."

He lets the thick wisps of shadows flick at the cultivators' faces, cold and burning. They claw at their own skin, crying out, and finally, finally, turn and run. The resentment chases them out of the street, and then returns to him, preening.

Once their screams have died out, and the resentment has settled back beneath his skin, Wei Wuxian comes back to himself. With a sickening start he realizes that he is still holding Lan Wangji firmly against his side. He lets go and steps away, heart pounding.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm - sorry."

Lan Wangji is staring at him, expression unreadable. Wei Wuxian cannot believe he's managed to do something so thoughtless, so stupid, so...horrifyingly revealing.

"That was stupid. I didn't mean to...I was just trying to speak a language he'd understand. I'm sorry. You're not - you don't-"

"I understand," Lan Wangji says quietly. His gaze has shifted to Wei Wuxian's shoulder. He looks strangely fragile. Tall, straight, and graceful still, but...

"No," say Wei Wuxian, "no, that was uncalled for. I should have left when you told me to. I'm sorry I made things worse."

The shake of Lan Wangji's head is slight. "No more apologies. I will see you at the banquet."

He leaves then, sword in hand, one arm neatly folded behind his back. Wei Wuxian watches him go, and can't help but feel he's made yet another fatal mistake he can't take back.

He's mine.

Lan Wangji cannot get those words out of his mind. He cannot forget the sound of Wei Wuxian's voice, the certainty in it, the firm, inarguable tone. They echo in his ears almost palpably, an illicit caress that won't let the shiver in his spine die.

He feels the ghosts of Wei Wuxian's fingers on his waist for a week. He finds himself, at random intervals, placing his own hand over them, trying to exert the exact same pressure, to feel - but it is not the same. Not without the warm, hard length of Wei Wuxian's side against him.

The alien mixture of emotions from that moment twist and mix and become ugly parodies of themselves in his dreams. He does not know what he felt, then, anymore. Does not know what he feels now.

The only thing he knows with any confidence is that every time he sees Wei Wuxian thereafter, he aches, and aches.

Aches to simply tell him that he was right. 

[hollyhomburg]

Sweet like Honey (Break like Glass) (KTH)

Summary: Taehyung knows there’s something wrong with his girlfriend; the way she can’t look at herself in the mirror sometimes or the countless other bad days. He makes it his mission to make her feel as beautiful as possible.

Tags: mentions of body dysmorphia, Self-esteem issues, Dysphoria, internalized self-hate, picnic dates, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, barely referenced eating disorder, angst over Taehyung being an idol, mentions of weddings, proposals, and wedding dresses, mentions of nudity and sexual scenes/themes. 

A/n: This was mostly inspired by Taehyung in his green suit and my own experiences with my body. This is a relatively short and less descriptive than my usual au’s. don’t forget to comment and RB if you liked it! also my grammarly kinda crashed while writing this! so i apologize for more grammatical errors that usual. 

Song rec: Electric love~ Pravi cover

W/c: 6.7k 

- There is something wrong with Taehyung's girlfriend. With you- and Taehyung just can’t figure out what it is. 

- Taehyung and you have been dating for a few years, though it was a little on and off in the beginning because of a few world tours. Now you live together, and every day Taehyung lives the fantasy of coming home to someone who loves him. You standing in his kitchen with Yeontan running around your feet begging for little bits of food. 

- But The small things are always there; the way you look at yourself in the mirror with a hint of hate. The way you are always so particular about how clothing fits you and won't wear anything that properly shows off your curves. 

- Sometimes you barely react when Taehyung puts his arms around your waist, bunching up his extra-large shirt that you sleep in. Taehyung loves the feeling of getting his hands on you, his palms so wide on your form. You have The kind of soft cuteness that makes him want to take you and hold you close and never let go. Sometimes in the mornings- he actually does pull you back into bed with him.

- But Sometimes, when Taehyung puts his hands on your waist you do freeze, he feels the way your body is taut and stiff like you’re trying to suck in or something. But when he looks at your face- he doesn't see any of the strain or anything else unpleasant or unhappy in your smiling face.

- Taehyung wishes you felt as comfortable with him as he feels with you.

- Tae would say that you’re both completely happy. Would say it- if he didn’t notice your insecurity sometimes. More than once He sees you excitedly set out an outfit on the bed. Getting dressed for something a little more interesting than sitting on your couch, only to see your expression fall the second that you see yourself in the mirror. 

- Whatever's going on in your head- it hurts you, hurts that you don’t see yourself in the mirror the way that he does. other days you know before you get dressed, You’ll avoid looking at yourself in the mirror and instead ask him if you look okay. 

- “Just turn around and see for yourself” he says- unthinking. More worried about getting to your destination on time. This time it’s a dinner with the rest of bts, a private room in a restaurant to celebrate the end of their last comeback. You aren’t going to be the only s/o or guest in attendance and you just wanted to make a good impression. 

- Taehyung is more excited for a few days of break that will proceed the dinner than the dinner itself. Days that he will probably spend catching up on the sleep that he’s lost over the past few weeks and spending quality time with you. He realizes a moment too late when he looks back at you. A hand suspiciously rubbing at your cheek, a little damp. That dark- unhappy look fitting your face like a glove. 

- You put a very baggy jacket over your dress and call it a day. During dinner you bunch it up in your lap like it will help cover you and say that your legs are just cold when Taehyung asks. But he isn’t fooled- though he was, a little, at the beginning of your relationship.

- When Taehyung first meets you he barely thinks that there’s something off about the way you view yourself. That revelation comes later once he gets to know you better. Taehyung dreams of a time when he’d known from the beginning, if only so that he could have started helping you with your body image sooner. 

- When you and Taehyung first met you were both a little broken, both a little too lonely for words. Your type of loneliness that was left for rotten nights, the kind where you bunch up a blanket or a pillow just to have something to hold onto. 

- When Taehyung first bumps into you at a bookstore You don’t outwardly look like the insecure type. Your cute glasses on your nose and your ankle length knit dress chic and oversized. You’d sat on opposites sides of a very long velvet couch to enjoy a coffee and a book in Taehyung’s favorite bookstore. A hair too close at your separate tables to be completely accidental. 

- You look at the handsome stranger, (or at least you think he’s handsome- most of him is covered by a facemask) thinking that just maybe There was only one reason why he didn’t take the table by the window; that reason being a desire to be close to you. “Is that one any good?” you’d asked, voice rough and quiet in the empty cafe. 

- When Tae looks over it’s to see your legs have been pulled up and underneath you- your shoes off and hidden under the table. Your stocking legs bare for him to look at and drink in. It feels too intimate for a stranger, but all at once in a moment, Taehyung daydreams of what your legs might feel like in his hands. And a little stirring in his gut says ‘oh- you like this- you like this one.” 

- “The coffee or the book?” he asks, perplexed and trying not to lose his cool. all the stadiums in the world couldn’t unnerve him and yet- one pretty girl in a coffee shop has him worried, holding on to his coffee and book like it will anchor him. You smile like his response is some sort of secret. “Either is fine.”

- Running into each other at the bookstore turned into sitting close on one of the many velvet couches. Which turned into Tae inviting you to a different coffee shop with better coffee and fewer books so you could openly talk without fear of getting scolded. 

- This leads to dinner dates and kisses and your back against his sheets in his apartments. Looking up at him like he’s still trying to tell you some sort of secret. You’re a secret that Taehyung just can’t figure out but wants too. And Tae has a feeling he could spend years getting to know you and still want you just as much as he did then- as he does now. Hovering on the edge of a relationship with you. 

- What had started out as coffee dates, turned into hooking up and then when his life got busy again- late night booty calls where he was barely awake enough to properly reciprocate. Those nights ending when you woke up to his empty bed and a text on your phone thanking you for coming over so late. It’s kind, but it’s so formal you read between the lines. Assuming deep down- that Taehyung doesn't want any more than a late night booty call and an occasional friendship from you.

- Taehyung had just assumed you wouldn’t want a relationship with him if it had to be this way, every six months or so when he gets so busy he can barely find time to take a proper break let alone go on a date. You’d assumed he just didn’t want a relationship with you but you where already desperately in love with him and unwilling to let go of the little bit you had of his time. Even if you knew it was a little toxic. 

- He still remembers looks back on that night often. Just after the comeback-  he’d been strung out on that restless energy he often gets after they’ve finished. another cycle of their career. All keyed up with nowhere for his energy to go. It had been late into the night and nearly morning when you’d finished enjoying each others company. Taehyung leaning back against the pillows, so deeply stated that he felt the ache in his bones. Eyes already fluttering closed he’d reached out to touch you, only to find you not there already pulling up your pants by the door. 

- And Tae’s serotonin and oxytocin high brain hadn’t been able to look past much more than your jiggling ass for a moment before he realized that fuck- you’re not staying. “What are you doing?” he’d asked, a little scathed, and you turned around like you were trying not to get your hopes up.

- “Going home to sleep? like i usually do?” Taehyung feels the stinging in his chest like a wound. Dreams of sleeping with his arm thrown over your waist, holding you close and trying to fit you into the lonely space in his chest- extinguished in a violent moment. (Tae had a feeling you’d fit there perfectly- and now to have you snatched out of reach feels like disappointment) “aren’t you just going to sleep here?”  

-“Nah im kinda hungry” you lie. He shrugs not getting it “I could always make you breakfast in the morning,” his words are interrupted by a yawn, “or now?” 

- “You don’t need too” “but what if I want to” all at once you’re frustrated. “Tae- what are we doing here?” you throw your jacked down with an upset humf, “we both know you’re not going to date a girl like me so why- why are you making this harder than you need too-”  

- “hold on-hold on” he jumps out of bed, suddenly so awake that his heart is pounding. “who the fuck told you that i don’t want to date you?” Your hand hovers on the doorknob an inch away from your relationship being nothing, and Taehyung is brazen and unshy, nearly proving your point when he just gets out of bed all of himself on display. At least he has the good grace to pull on a pair of boxer shorts. “you mean? you do?” 

- “Of course i want to date you!” he’s an inch away, and his large hands just barely brushes yours “you like all the same things as me, i love talking about books with you and cuddling with you and having you here when i get home- things have just been so busy lately- i didn’t want to make it feel rushed. but i do- i do want you to be mine unless you don’t want-”

- You’d hated how unsure he looked in that moment. Most of the time- you’re so unsure yourself that you forget how it must look to Taehyung. But in that moment you can see your own expression on his face, and you hate it there just as much as he hates it when it’s on your face. 

- That night had ended with you soft in Taehyung's clothing, smelling like him. talking it through with him until the sun actually had come up. “I guess I just got so caught up in giving you what you wanted because I thought that was all I could get.”

- He touches you so delicately, his fingers stroking down the line of your throat as you talk so that he can feel the words in his fingertips as you say them. “tell me how I can be better- please, I want to be a good-” taehyung swallows against the hope in his throat. “I want to be a good boyfriend for you.” 

- Your more giving nature didn’t stop there, and you were always determined to give taehyung more than you took in your relationship. Like your very presence in his life was enough of a gift in itself. But it’s something that Taehyung has always been able to see through. In the same way that you feel like you’re not enough for him. The same way he feels that he can’t give you everything you want or need. Like a date out in public or Anonymity if you were ever to take your relationship public.

- You’ve been mobbed more than once just because you came out of the same apartment complex he lived in. And even though no one knows you’re dating Tae besides those who know you personally, Taehyung fears that one day you’re going to want something he can’t give you.

- Like others he’d dated in the past. The girls (and one boy) who had all told him after a few months “either go public or we’re through” or gotten tired of not being able to partake in the same things all their friends did, like getting walked home or going out for dinner on a Thursday without making an expensive reservation. You were never like that.

- At the beginning, you’d just smiled when Tae had told you he couldn’t be seen with you out in public. You’d just given him a soft but understanding smile and volunteered your apartment as long as he brought his most comfortable pajamas to stay the night incase he got too drunk to drive home.

- Those nights, you’d often ended up drunk on the floor of your bedroom and Taehyung remembers looking down at you from above, his hand unintentionally wound in your hair. Somehow you’d ended up in his pajamas and he didn’t mind at all.  

- “You know- I can’t give you a lot” it had taken Tae a long time to open up to you after his last break up, but then he’d felt the dizzying smoothness of your skin against his- more intoxicating that the alcohol. You’d giggled up at him, equally as drunk. “Just give me you, Tae, and that will be enough.”

- it was around then that Taehyung had made a promise to himself. He may not be able to give you everything a boyfriend should be able to give you. but he’d give you himself fully, and anything else he could give without endangering his career.

- Sometimes you can’t believe that you’re dating an idol- let alone someone as genuinely beautiful as Taehyung. Sure- knows one knows you’re dating him. But only someone who didn’t know your relationship would think he was just a status symbol or something. You don’t need to show each other off to know your love is real.

- Though you do partake in couple items fairly often- Taehyung has a certain love for things expensive. And he does like to spoil you in the small ways- accessories are the best for you- Taehyung knows they don’t trigger your body dysmorphia in the same way clothes do. He still has the first couple item you ever got- a beat-up scarf in coordinating colors, the edge of yours torn- hanging over the doorway that leads to your walk in closet. The fabric too worn to wear out normally.

- Early on- he’d fucked up and gotten you a skirt that was a size to small. He’d tried to help you into it, and helped you try and zip it up. But after a moment when it was clear the zipper wasn’t going to go over your hips (one of Taehyung’s favorite parts of you and the whole reason why he’d bought you the skirt)

- You’d slapped his hand away, and Taehyung had looked up- miffed for a moment but knowing he’d fucked up when he saw your eyes fill with tears. He’d apologized again and again, And you were careful to make sure he knew it wasn’t his fault but the skirt had ended up thrown to the back of the closet and shoved in a bag meant for donations.

 - Now Taehyung knows Some days your body genuinely doesn’t bother you, but others you live a much more dire reality that you try to hide from Tae. he also knows that you don’t like talking about it. He might enjoy telling you the minute details of just exactly why Namjoon pissed him off today during practice and hashing it out again later when his temper has dissipated. But you don’t like to talk about your insecurities in so many words. 

- Sometimes the words hover on the edge of his tongue because he should tell you that It genuinely doesn’t bother him when you flip flop between needing to spend hours of your time on your makeup and being okay with your face as it is. And if hours are what you need to feel okay then fuck- Taehyung will learn everything about how you like to do your hair. 

- The other days when you change 5 times before it becomes clear that it’s not the clothes That's making you feel so distressed. your side of the closet torn apart. When you can’t meet Tae’s eyes when it feels like nothing fits you anymore. More than once you’ve decided that you don’t really want to leave the apartment if the only thing you feel comfortable in is a pair of his sweatpants and a baggy tee-shirt. Tae only wants to make sure you get what you need. You don’t need to hide your bad days from Tae.

- but Taehyung hates those unhappy days when there's not more that he can do than let you hide your body underneath the baggiest blanket possible on your couch. Calling to cancel your plans, and then join you there. You tell him he should go hang out with your friends without you but if you don’t go with him- there’s really no point. 

- He knows it's just a little unhealthy- but he’d miss you the whole time and want to text you through all of it. And your friends would end up annoyed that Tae was on his cellphone. Better to spend the night here, even if you flinch when he touches you later that night. 

- And really- he doesn’t mind at all, all of that stuff, it only makes him worried about you. The person he loves more than anything. And he tries to help you through the little things. Complimenting you whenever he can (and do it while being genuine so they don’t feel hollow to you) and feeding you from his own chopsticks at dinnertime. Gently gripping your chin in his hand and murmuring “it’s my job to keep you healthy.” 

- for what it’s worth when Taehyung does have more free time than usual- he keeps track. More than once he’s had to worry and wonder if you’re actually eating anything when he’s not around. He looks for the evidence of a lie on your face and in the kitchen to see if it takes the form of untouched or spoiled food. gone before you could convince yourself to eat it.

-  And even though he can’t find any evidence of this- the threat still lingers on the edge of his mind. He’s had his experience with unhealthy behaviors and he knows the starting signs.  

- But it comes to a head one night when he sees you looking through a bunch of catalogs. You might struggle to find things that you feel comfortable in on your worst days but you do like to help Taehyung shop. It’s a game that you play. Competing to see which one of you can find the weirdest outfit or the strangest prints. Though you win more often then he does. Leaning over your computer to laugh and say “okay- but actually, it’s terrible and I want it and I don’t know why.” 

- For as hard as your relationship can be- there are also countless moments of happiness, more than taehyung could ever properly appreciate. but god if he’s not going to try to treasure this love he has with you. The kind of love that's sweet like honey regardless of the broken glass mixed in. 

- It’s one of your lazy day activities. Both of you sit on the couch under a fluffy duvet with matching glasses of wine. A drama playing in the back round. His hand alternating between hovering on your knee and reaching for his wine glass.  

- Tae gets wrapped up in looking at a strange line of weird art neveauy Dress shirts and when he looks over he sees to his surprise- that you’re looking at dresses. These dresses are the long kind- the kinds that are white and flowy with beaded sleeves or shear mermaid designs, most in blush and cream tones.  

- You notice him looking and quickly tilt your screen- but it’s too late he’s already asking to see. You’re shy but eventually, tae wrestles it away from you with a kiss and a chuckle- you complain that he almost made you spill wine on the couch. His eyes widen more as he clicks through your tabs of which there are eight. And he commits the name of the designer to memory Because these...these are almost like wedding dresses and you’ve never expressed much interest in Dresses like these. 

- As if the drama you’re watching seems to fortel this conversation; this episode is the wedding episode. taehyung watches you as he checks through the tabs and you watch the bride and groom with a far away look in your eyes. As the characters go through the antics of losing their rings and the evil stepmother spilling wine onto the bride's white dress.

- When you do speak, it’s so soft that Taehyung has to lean in to hear it. your secret whispered into open air. “Sometimes it’s easy to think- that I’ll never get married. Get to wear a dress like that. It’s not that I don’t think you love me,” you’re quick to reassure him. his stricken expression melting away as his words die in his throat. “-or that you wouldn’t- won’t ever propose. And this isn’t me trying to guilt trip you into it either but-” 

-Taehyung rubs a reassuring stroke down your arm. Your eyes locked on the dress on the screen, eyes so hungry and wanting but sad too like you know it’s futile to want something so simple. It’s so ordinary to taehyung but to you it feels unreachable. “Dresses like that- princess dresses and wedding dresses- are things that other girls get. Girls that have the perfect body and the perfect hair- the perfect everything. Things that I don’t see when i look in the mirror.”

- Taehyung is soft when he touches you, guiding you to set your wine and your computer away, closing the screen too so that the picture of the dress goes away too. Leading you to sit across his lap. Touching your face gently like you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever graced his fingertips. 

- “That’s what they get and i-” you rest a hand on your chest and for a moment- Taehyung can see how much it just aches. Whatever hole has been left in your heart by your trauma, Tae feels it as keenly as you do. “I get to feel like this all the time.” 

- Feelings of powerlessness fill him up. He wishes he could make you feel as beautiful as he views you- but he knows that the words of another only do so much. But he can’t say nothing He feels so tongue tied. he’s so painfully aware that he might say something that just makes you feel worse. he swallows through the lump in his throat. “I know this won’t make it any better, but I think you’re beautiful, and you deserve the world- and all the pretty dresses you want.” 

- He bites his lower lip, mindful of not making promises he Doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep. He’d propose to you right now if he thought it would magically make you feel better but he doubts that would fix the issue. Your self-esteem issues run deeper than that. through wounds that are older than your relationship and too deep for Taehyung to heal with a few words.  He touches your face softly “let me try- to make you feel as beautiful as you are to me” his kisses get hotter and you return them “let me try” he promises. 

- That night you make love on your couch and for that moment of ecstasy you let yourself believe you’re worth the touch of Kim Taehyung. That alone is something that’s hard for you to believe every day. And you try to compensate for the ways that you feel lacking sometimes in the worst ways. he still doesn't like to think of the beginning of your relationship for that reason. 

- but Something about that day with the wedding dresses weighs on him though, bothers him in a way he just can’t articulate. And it’s not until he confesses to Jungkook about what happened and how he feels strangely futile about the whole thing, that Jungkook gives him the simplest answer. 

- “If she wants to feel beautiful in a wedding dress hyung, why don’t you just buy her the dress?” Taehyung starts to try and backtrack but Jungkook shakes his head. “I didn’t say marry her- just dress her up like you are and take her out on a date- make sure she knows beforehand. But there’s no reason why you can’t make her feel like a princess.” 

- So Taehyung does just that- picks out a dress not unlike one of the ones that you mentioned you liked. Layers of lace and delicate tulle, perfect for you. Yes it’s from a wedding line but it is more of a light dust pink. A dainty and dreamy color perfect for the day that he aims to create. He double and triple checks your measurements because the dress is made to fit and he doesn’t want to repeat the skirt experience. 

- Your actual date is a picnic set out on a thick knit blanket on a hill overlooking the ocean. He gets the picnic basket made for you by a restaurant. Delicate pastries filled with sweet meats, freshly cut figs and sweet berries and fruits. More than you could logically both eat in a sitting but sue him- Taehyung likes going a little overboard. All paired with your favorite bottle of wine. Wildflowers and delicate blooms too- all set out on the blanket. 

- He Gets you booked for a private appointment at a hair stylist and makeup artists and surprises you. Tells you to keep your Saturday open for him, you level him with a look over dinner. “What are you planning kim Taehyung?” he smiles into his glass. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see princess?” you raise your eyebrow at the unintended and unusual term of endearment and let it slide as he pales at the unintended slip up. 

- At first you’re a little skeptical- this isn’t the first surprise date he’s planned (and it probably won’t be the last). So you humor him with a small smile when he sits you down in the stylist’s chair late Saturday. You face away from the mirror, the stylists under orders to keep your look hidden from you until they’re done. 

- before you start, He puts his hand on the back of your chair and leans in to press a quick kiss to your forehead “are you okay here while I go and get things ready?” the stylists buzz around you spoiling you with mimosas and fruit too, making sure you’re comfortable before they start. Tae really did bring out all the stops for this. 

- You are okay with this, or at least you think you are until you finish with your hair and makeup- you can feel it, the layer of the expensive products on your skin and the faint burning in your hair as they set your hair in delicate fairy like curls, small pins with little flowers that you see out of the corner of your eyes, you see the swatch of red on the lip brush when they paint your mouth- and it starts to feel like too much when they lead you to a changing room- and you see the dress hanging on the hook. 

- “She won’t come out Mr. Kim.” one of the assistants informs him when Taehyung comes back to get you. Everything is set up, the weather is perfect, the flowers in the field blooming when Taehyung stopped by to make sure that everything was all set out. Jungkook is in place too- ready to be your private photographer.

- That’s the little surprise- since Taehyung hopes you won't see him if he manages to hide well in the bushes and snap photos while you have lunch and lounge in the grass. Jungkook promised to leave if it looks like things where about to get steamy. And thinking about the dress- Taehyung can't say that’s not a possibility. 

- There is something incredibly alluring about the idea, hiking up your delicate skirt. The way it might just look if Taehyung had you pull the thin straps down. Getting you out of it just enough to slip close to your warmth. you could even rollplay it- Taehyung some night who had no business touching someone as beautiful and you; a princess so sweet and ethereal hidden in some forgotten stretch of palace garden.  Like something out of the stories you used to both read when you were just inches away in a coffee shop. 

- But right now all he wants to do is make sure you’re okay as he barely calls your name before he rushes through the satin curtain in to see you. Sitting on the velvet poof in nothing more than a silk robe, leaning your head on your hand as you look at the dress with more than a little apprehension. 

- He’s polished himself up since he saw you- his dark green suit the perfect color swatch against the dusty pink of the dress. you turn to see him and tae- oh Tae is in love with the way that they’ve outlined your lips like two petals of a perfect rose. The faint sparkle that dusts your cheeks. Taehyung’s whole body thrums as he looks at you. 

- “Taehyung” even the way you say his name is a question, “why did you get me all dressed up like this?” 

- Taehyung lets out a deep shaking breath, taking your hands in his, “im not proposing to you today,” is the first thing he says, and he can tell the words shock you a little- that can’t have been a thought far from your mind. But he presses on before he can get too nervous to continue. 

- “But the other day- when you talked about never getting to feel pretty- like a princess. I wanted to give you that. Even if we never get married- or at least can’t for a while- you deserve to feel as beautiful as a bride on her wedding day every day and I guess-“ he stumbles forward over the edge of a carpet and you catch him a little. His large fingers tumbling through your small ones. tangling and untangling. “I guess I just wanted to be your groom for a day too.” 

- “So you thought you’d take me out on a date and get me all dolled up for what?” Taehyung can tell you got the idea of what he’s going for now, a small smile tugging at your lips and Taehyung feels like he’s won a prize. He nudges your shoulder with his; leaning close like it’s a secret, “I even have a picnic basket.”

- You giggle at his wink and Tae directs you to the dress. But you kick him out. The stylists give him a look, shuffling around with their things and cleaning up. But he holds up his hands. “Apparently I’m not supposed to see her until the grad reveal” they nod- like this is some sort of unspoken rule but sue him- Taehyung wants to see you look pretty in the dress he picked out. 

- Taehyung thinks he’s prepared to see you in the not-wedding- wedding dress- but he’s not. You knock the breath out of him. The shade of your lipstick the same tone as your dress just more saturated. It fists you better than Taehyung dreamed it would. And truly- you look like a princess at a ball- or at the very least a fairy. 

- Taehyung holds out his hand, The picture of a gentleman. You still look unsure, but you take his hand anyway. You stop when you see yourself in the mirror. Unable to believe that really you look this different in makeup, but the makeup artists really are talented. You look ethereal. The blush on your cheeks just enough to feel like a natural flush. Your lashes long and pillowy and thick, your lips bitten looking and buttery red pink. 

- You walk up to the glass and touch the surface, certain for a moment that this really is a fairytale and you have fallen down the rabbit hole like Alice. You don’t say anything, and neither does Tae- he just takes your hand and spins you under his arm, your dress flares out around you- swishing with the heavy weight of many layers of fabric and tulle. And you let yourself fall into his arms like some damsel and tae your knight in his swept back golden hair. 

- “I’m going to buy you every dress like this in the world if it makes you smile like this my love” normally he wouldn’t refer to you as my love- but today- when everything is a fairytale- it almost feels fitting. You are smiling, and you give yourself another long look in the mirror before you turn on him. Dimly aware that some of the makeup artists are swooning at the picture you paint. 

- for once, you have to admit- you look well matched. 

- “I was promised a date Kim Taehyung” you say, a smile toying at the edge of your lips. Taehyung holds out his hand, bowing at the waist. “It would be my honor of having you accompany me Ms. Y/l/n.” 

- “That’s ‘your highness’ to you” and both of you can’t help but let out a giggle at the ridiculous farce. Your ‘chariot’ is nothing more than Taehyung’s car. The one you’re used to taking. And the drive isn’t all that far away. an hour at most. 

- Far below- the ocean turns the sea spray and distant rumbling the only clue to the shore below you. You almost want to swoon at the picture that Taehyung had set up, flowers laid out on the white blanket, food and other things, a Bluetooth speaker set up playing soft music. Taehyung makes sure to lay out the food. And feed you mouthfuls of sweet figs that taste sweeter when he licks the juice off of your tongue. 

- After lunch Taehyung takes a few polaroid’s of you. Because even if Jungkook is doing what he promised, Taehyung still wants ones that are taken from his hands. He gets a few of you, stretched out against the white blanket, your arched enticingly without your shoes on, discarded in the grass. It could be a boudoir photo-shoot with the way it makes Taehyung’s mouth go dry, if not for the way the lace clings to your body. Covering the bits Tae wants to see. His hands hot and heavy on your calf, and sliding up.  

- He thinks of actually doing a boudoir photo-shoot with you, considers the likelihood of you agreeing to it. he imagines your body bare against heavenly silks, hips hiked up to show off the curve of your ass. one day- Taehyung will convince you to model for him that way. Even if he suffers through the whole thing feeling as strung out as he does now.

- After lunch you take the stairs down to the water's edge and take your shoes off. Running in the sea spray, Taehyung gets a few more photos of you like that. Laughing at a joke he’s said, holding your dress up and out of the water. Collecting little shells that you shove into the pocket of his suit. 

- All in all- by the time you get back up the rocky staircase and back to clean things up- your lipstick is kissed off your mouth, you have sand in the bottom of your shoes, and you smell more like sea spray than expensive perfume. But you feel pretty and delicate in a way that you’ve never felt before. And you’re certain that it’s all because of Tae. Taehyung’s used up all of the rolls of film that he brought- and he’s sure jungkook has too. between the two of them they’ve probably taken over 300 photos of you. 

- “Did I do a good job today?” Taehyung asks on the drive home, always a good sucker for some good old words of affirmation. Stopping for fast food because- what his princess wants- his princess gets. “The best” you say. Head tipped back against the seat, already looking sleepy, Taehyung’s suit jacket pulled across your shoulders. “You really are my prince charming Tae.

- And he is- even if the dragon that needs slaying in one firmly locked inside of your head. Taehyung will help you defeat it, even if it takes 100 days and 100 different dresses. 

- Taehyung ends up buying you more dresses. Every color. And your new game becomes finding more of them. taehyung collects pointlessly pretty things to make you feel more beautiful, and he loves every moment of it. 

- When the photos come back from Jungkook (a secret they had actually managed to keep) your eyes go wide as you take in the photos, so much clearer than the ones that tae had taken on his polaroid camera. You paint a gorgeous picture together, him in his green that matches the grass and you- as delicate as the flowers around you. 

- But your favorite thing about the photos- isn’t how you look (though you have to admit for once- that you did look beautiful) it’s the way Taehyung is looking at you. He’s looking at you like he’s aching, like It hurts to be parted from you even an inch. 

- There is one series of three photos that you like the most. Where you’ve closed your eyes and are leaning back in the sun and his hair is shining, one moment he’s not holding your hand and he’s frowning, looking so jaggedly honest and thoughtful, and then next your hand is in his and he’s smiling brighter than the sun. 

- You hang the photos in your living room. And next to the other photos you have, you don’t look nearly as happy as you do in those. It’s your smile that's different. When you look at the polaroids that tae’s taken of you. You’re smiling at him behind the camera, and you think even if it weren’t for the makeup and the dress- you still think you’d look beautiful in the photos. 

- happiness- the kind that comes unburdened by insecurity- looks good on you, and if you can get that by love- by being in love and being loved with your pain instead of despite it, then it’s all the more beautiful. 

- you go on more ‘pretty dates’ as you like to call them. and Taehyung watches you change slowly- but it’s for the better. As you don’t shy away from your reflection, wear longer dresses and prettier things without thinking. Wear that shade of lipstick again, and even go out wearing nothing at all on your face and seem not to feel anything. Taehyung knows it’s a struggle some days still- and yet you make it look so effortless. 

- it's the worst when tae comes home and he finds whatever outfit you picked out for yourself already hung back up- and he’ll whine and beg you to put it on again until you eventually concede. Capturing them in black and white, in technicolor, in isolated swatches of red and blue. he loves taking pictures- especially if theyre of you.  

- The picture wall gets added to in the future, until there is no more space in your living room. You call taehyung an obsessive flirt when he insists on hanging them up and he calls you his muse. You go on more not wedding wedding dates. And it’s no surprise to either of you when one-day someone- a fan spots and you soon pictures of you are plastered all over the internet- stories about a secret wedding between taehyung and a mystery girl. 

-  And in the end- it doesn't feel like you give up much with the unintended outing of your relationship. Taehyung couldn’t take it back even if he wanted to and he doesn't. now he gets to hold your hand and go out in public. “No- we’re not married yet. But we have been dating for a while so please respect our privacy.” He tells the reporters when he gets ambushed. And after a few stressful months where you lean into each other more than ever, things calm down. 

- You have to be a little more secretive after that, careful when and where you plan your ‘pretty dates’ or so Taehyung has liked to call them. A sudden rush of seaside weddings this season makes that difficult and is entirely due to you and your pictures. it seems that you have become an unintended trend setter. the dress you wore selling out too. 

- The hits of his love are always there, in every photograph, in every dress that appears in your closet, in ever tender moments. other hits are there too- hints of more love to come. when Taehyung asks you out for another pretty date, careful to make sure you get your hair done and your nails too. His nervousness written all over his face and his actions. 

- And when you find a ring box, hidden in the pocket of one of Taehyung’s sweatpants the morning you’re supposed to go on your date, You’re not surprised in the slightest. 

- You keep your discovery a secret. After all you only have a few hours to wait.  

-------

Please Reblog and Comment, Likes are nice, but they do little to support content creators! 

Kofi 

[findopulencerp]

                                            𝖘𝖆𝖞𝖑𝖔𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖗𝖆

appears as though she was born 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 years ago but is actually 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞, she is a 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 who lives in 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐲 as a 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲, and she is in 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐝. she looks an awful lot like 𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞.

“Your soul is so bohemian, free, and gypsy wild. Come swim with me in the calming sea, let’s be mermaids for a while.”

tw: murder, death, mental health, drug use, child abuse, childhood trauma.

Saylor is what teachers liked to call: “the problem child.” A bastard, born to an adulterer, the little girl’s life was far from stable. But her teachers did not see that. They did not know that the reason she so often fell asleep in class was that her manic mother would wake her up screaming, only to later soothe her with a drive to the local Dairy Queen. She was always thin, meals not as regular as they could have been. Her mother struggled to hold down a job. Hungry, Saylor began to steal food while at school, anything to fill the rumble within her belly. But the theft made her nervous, and jumpy, she knew it was wrong, but she was just so hungry. Those jitters led teachers to educate her mother about ADHD and other disorders. The woman latched onto the idea, and the doctors, believing the parent over the child’s calm demeanor at appointments, began to prescribe her medication. It made Saylor feel as though she was about to crawl out of her skin. After a few weeks, she became smart enough to hide the medicine under her tongue until she could get away from her mother. Now nearly a teen, she would sell the pills at school, pocketing the extra money in order to feed herself. This led her to hanging out with “the wrong crowd” the kids who smoked weed in the bathrooms and got high on pills under the bleachers once classes were over. If they’d even bothered to show up that day. Despite being bounced around schools as her mom moved them from state to state, Saylor managed to find trouble wherever she went. After being expelled from her second one in as many months, her mother finally lost it.

Covered in bruises as the police took the woman away, the young teen was told to pack a bag. After three days in an emergency foster home, the social worker came to say that they had a place for her. When Saylor saw the size of the home she was in awe, she assumed the person who lived there must be her father, they’d tracked him down after all these years and he was welcoming her home with open arms. The truth was far from that happy fantasy. There was no familiarity to the man that stood staring at her as though she were an alien life form, but the moment she locked eyes with the other girl, she knew they were related. Their eyes matched perfectly, they had the same sultry angle, the little glint that meant trouble. It was that girl who took her in, her sister, Sofia. Saylor supposed she could have been upset at the thought of living with this strange girl, of the crappy apartment she was able to afford to scrape by at jobs that were less than ideal. But, for the first time in her life, the young girl actually felt content.

Sofia worked hard to make sure that she was cared for. There was a hot meal every night, and help with homework. Though Saylor still got up to many of her old antics, she was too old now to change so easily, and her sister didn’t really seem to mind, so long as she attended school. Having a stable home, Saylor had time to realize that she was actually smart. To her surprise she enjoyed studying and, with Sofia’s encouragement, she decided to enroll in an extracurricular activity, basketball. Her lithe frame allowed her to maneuver easily, and she quickly became a small celebrity in the local high school. Sofia was someone she was glad to have as she navigated teenage romance and boy drama, and she was the first person Saylor confided in about being bisexual. Their bond was as tight as two sisters could be. When she graduated, she decided that she wanted to see the world, properly, this time. It hurt to leave her sister behind, and Sofia wasn’t necessarily happy with her choice to take a gap year… or two when scholarships had been offered, she still supported her unconditionally. Their life was simple yet happy. Until a dark cloud from the past returned.

Their mother. She was waiting in their apartment when Saylor had come home from her latest trip. Immediately wary, she recognized the mania coiling beneath the surface. With no idea how to explain to Sofia that something wasn’t right as their mother led them to the beach, she was helpless. Helpless as she watched their mother turn into something other than human. As her hands wrapped around Sofia’s neck and held her under. Violent screams were ripped from her mouth as she attempted to dislodge her mother’s grip, but she was too strong. She could feel her vision blurring as the profound sense of loss tore through her like a wild cat. Then she too was held under. When her head finally broke the surface, gasping as water left her lungs, she saw her sister. Sofia had the same body that their mom had before she lost it. Saylor found her oddly beautiful and was unafraid despite the fact that her mom had looked the same moments before. Her brow scrunched as she tried to locate her mom, and found her floating face up in the water, human once more.

Quickly she tugged at Sofia’s hand and took charge. They needed to leave, now. So they fled. After a few hours in the car, they arrived at a town called Opulence. It was there that the two women made their new home. For months Saylor was fairly comatose, she did not mourn her mother, but the trauma of the incident had left scars invisible to the eye.

After about a year Saylor finally began to settle. Now twenty-one, she enrolled at Opulence Supernatural College with a major in marine biology. Ever since discovering what her sister was, her immortality, Saylor had become fascinated with the ocean. The creatures and myths it held, untold depths just waiting to be explored. It was a pull she felt deep within her gut. But with it was a feeling of dread. What would happen when she passed on? Sofia would be alone. Devastated by the thought and driven by the call of the sea, she chose to see it forever with Sofia by her side. Her drowning was six months ago, and Saylor has never been happier only… her sister still doesn’t know. Perhaps she’ll finally find the courage to tell her? After, she shares the good news that she made it onto the college basketball team, of course.

“what power did he attain when settling in opulence?”

Because of the love Saylor felt for her older sister, she developed a link to her. A tether that bonded the pair, they can feel the emotions of one another and can communicate voluntarily through their minds.

this character is...retired

[mianavs]

Gezellig

You were the warmth that only another person could give

Kenma x f!reader

a/n: kenma is definitely my comfort character~

wc: 1.8k

It started with an apple pie recipe.

Kenma was editing his latest play-through video for a new video game when the craving for his favorite food creeped up on him again. He considered going to the nearby bakery that sold decent mini apple pies but a glance at the clock on his computer put an end to that idea—it was midnight and the bakery had been closed for three hours.

Normally Kenma would have settled for the day old pastry on his kitchen table but the craving for apple pie had plagued him for a while now. The reason? His neighbor had baked one a couple days ago and Kenma couldn’t stop thinking about the delicious aroma that had seeped through the walls into his unit.

A hasty thought crossed Kenma’s mind and he got up from his gaming chair to wander into the kitchen. He scanned the counters until his eyes landed on the two large apples Kuroo dropped off along with other groceries Kenma let spoil more often than not. The presence of the main ingredient spurred his impulses and Kenma fell back onto his couch as he scrolled through YouTube for an easy apple pie recipe. His perceptive eyes were immediately drawn to the golden crust of the pie on your thumbnail and his fingers clicked on your video without a second thought.

In the end, Kenma never got to making the apple pie and instead binge-watched every video on your ASMR cooking channel until he passed out at five in the morning.

Kenma knew he was obsessed when he turned on the notification bell on your channel. He loved the simplicity of your videos. There wasn’t any cheesy background music or obnoxious text. Your videos were intimate and comforting with the natural sounds of your cooking or baking and the high-quality recordings. More often than not, Kenma found himself unwinding to your content after a stressful meeting with the board members or a difficult gaming session. In fact, the more he watched your videos the more he found himself closing his eyes and imagining himself in your kitchen listening to the sizzling of the sautéing vegetables or the whir of your mixer combining the ingredients of a cake. It wasn’t necessarily hard to do since the layout of your kitchen was very similar to his own.

He should have found it suspicious when his neighbor’s cooking seemed to predict the video you would upload next but Kenma wasn’t one to dwell on unnecessary things like that. So when his neighbor cooked a delicious smelling recipe, Kenma would crave it the next day and ordered it to eat while he watched your nimble hands cook a similar dish.

In the two years Kenma had lived in his unit, he’d never crossed paths with his foodie neighbor. Although considering his line of work, Kenma supposed it wasn’t too surprising. He spent most of his time in his office and only when out when necessary. So when his doorbell rang and it wasn’t Kuroo with groceries or takeout but a young woman with a sheepish look on her face, Kenma froze like a deer in headlights.

“Hi! Umm…I’m your neighbor,” she introduced herself and awkwardly held up a small bowl. “Do you have some salt I can borrow?”

“Uh…yeah, come in.” Kenma replied stepping aside to let her in. There was a softness about her demeaner that drew him in and it wasn’t until her eyes blinked at him in confusion that he realized he’d been staring.

“T-this way.”

As Kenma led his neighbor to the kitchen he wracked his brain for the location of the salt container Kuroo had bought for him to use despite never having cooked a meal in his life. It took a couple of tries flipping through cupboards before he found the large salt container and handed it to his neighbor.

“Thanks!” She accepted it and began pouring some into her bowl. “Y’know your kitchen is a lot like mine but way cleaner!”

“I don’t really use it,” Kenma admitted. “I find it kind of intimidating…cooking.”

“It is at first but it gets easier the more you do it.” She smiled as she handed the salt back to Kenma and he couldn’t help but admire the way her entire face seemed to smile. Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons while the apples of her cheeks framed her gummy smile endearingly.

“I guess that applies to a lot of things.”

“Yes, it really does! I’m a firm believer in practice makes perfect.”

With that she thanked Kenma profusely and apologized for the intrusion before slipping on her shoes and walking out the door. While it may have only been a few minutes, the impression she left on Kenma lasted much longer. He went outside more just so he could run into his nice neighbor who would always strike up a conversation with him about anything. And while he was normally not one for small talk, it never felt forced around her. She had a knack for making even the dullest subject a compelling topic and Kenma quickly looked forward to those moments outside their apartment complex, in front of the convenience store, or outside her unit.

But even those short conversations Kenma has with his neighbor reveal very little about her. So when Kenma gets a notification from your channel and opens YouTube, he drops his phone when your thumbnail picture isn’t food but rather his neighbor that he’d grown fond of. Kenma’s eyes dart to your shared wall as he comes to terms with the fact that his favorite content creator and his pretty neighbor are the same person. It takes a couple of minutes for the initial shock to pass and another twenty minutes for him to play the video in the comfort of his office and with his headset on.

You’re all smiles as you announce a giveaway to celebrate one-hundred thousand subscribers. You introduce each of the five prizes and explain each one in detail. They’re all cooking tools from one of your sponsors that Kenma recognizes from your previous videos. When you’re describing the rules to enter, the similarities between your apartment and his are glaringly obvious now and Kenma can only shake his head in disbelief. The video ends too quickly so he watches it another ten times almost convincing himself that it’s to understand the rules of the giveaway and consider each of the products despite knowing he’d never actually enter.

A week after your giveaway video, Kuroo comes over with food and drinks after a business trip. A meal and a couple of beers later, Kenma opens up to Kuroo about you and the fact that you’re not only his favorite YouTuber but his neighbor as well. The liquid courage spurs him on and Kenma talks about your gorgeous smile, soft-looking hair, and your laugh that goes from a giggle to a cackle within a matter of seconds. Always the observant friend, Kuroo notices the persistent smile on Kenma’s face as he goes on about you and urges his best friend to ask you out on a date. The thought of spending hours with you is enough to get his heart racing but his insecurities never fail to rear their ugly heads and Kenma dismisses the idea as quickly as it comes up.

Kenma drinks even more to drown his insecurities and fantasies of you while Kuroo drinks with him knowing it’s best to support him quietly like this. When the last drop of alcohol is consumed, the two friends are completely drunk and Kuroo crashes in the guest room while Kenma stumbles to his room and collapses on his bed as the world spins around him.

Your image comes to mind but it’s too hazy for Kenma’s liking so he pulls up your giveaway video and watches it for the hundredth time. You’re so happy about your channel’s milestone that Kenma can’t help but smile like a fool as you thank your subscribers profusely. It’s with lowered inhibitions that Kenma is able to scroll to the comment section and write out how much your channel means to him.

The sound of multiple notifications stirs Kenma awake to a terrible hangover. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and focuses on his blindingly bright screen to see what the fuss is about. There’s a message from his publicist asking if he’s okay but before Kenma can reply he gets a notification from your channel; however, it isn’t the typical one that lets him know you’ve uploaded a video. The notification is a heart reaction to a comment and Kenma’s heart is in his mouth as his shaky finger taps on your giveaway video.

He doesn’t have to scroll far to find his comment because it’s the first one with ten thousand likes and three hundred comments to boot. Completely mortified, Kenma reads through the comments that have a wide range of reactions. Some gush about how cute it is for Kodzuken to fanboy over your channel while others express their disappointment that their favorite gamer actually likes cooking ASMR. While they are unnerving, it isn’t the comments that worry Kenma but the little red heart you’d left on his comment.

While he doubts you knew who he was before, this comment and the crazy feedback will definitely pique your interest enough to look him up and find out who he really is. Scared of facing you, Kenma holes himself up in his apartment. To get you out of his mind, he buries himself in work and video game streams and turns off the notifications for your channel.

After a week of not hearing anything from you, Kenma thinks he’s in the clear until one evening he opens his door expecting his takeout only to find you.

You’re a sight for sore eyes and Kenma’s heart hammers in his chest as your eyes soften and you break into a smile. The aroma of cinnamon and apples wafts up to his nostrils and you raise your mitted hands to reveal the same pie that had drawn him to you in the first place.

“Your fans mentioned you like apple pie,” you explain with a chuckle. “And I still owe you for the salt.”

“My…fans?” Kenma asks, still stunned you’re talking to him despite the comment fiasco.

“Yeah, you see I needed a reason to visit my neighbor and ask him out. Luckily, he’s a famous streamer with lots of fans.” Your confidence almost hides flush on your cheeks that deepens the longer Kenma stares at you in shock.

“…Unless you don’t want to go out-“

“I do!” Kenma blurts out. “More than anything.”

Your entire face breaks into a smile. “Well then how about a pie date?”

With a stomach full of butterflies, Kenma lets you into his apartment for the second time only this time he knows what he feels for you and is comforted by the fact that you feel the same way.

[g0ldengubler]

chapter one~one wild night

(*gif made by recsbylotte*)

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter is so long, but I had to get everything down, I was having too much fun with this concept. Also, please give a listen to the song Nauseous here so you get the full idea of where this story will go and if you like the song, check out Zubin's other songs as well! Highly suggest the song "Backseat" which also has Fantasy Camp! Ok, enjoy :)

Category: Smut

CW: light-ish smut, fingering, alcohol, weed (please smoke responsibly!)

Word Count: 3985

before you read | next chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Great job everyone!" said Aaron Hotchner to his team.

Everyone in the BAU team gave a small round of applause on their jet, but yours was a bit louder than the rest. This was your first case and you worked so hard to solve it with the team to prove that you deserve to be with them. You wanted this job since you were a little girl. Jason Gideon was holding a class on the basics of profiling with his partner, David Rossi, and you and your dad went because you both loved watching 80's crime and law shows like "Murder, She Wrote" and "Matlock", and from the way your eyes would be glued to the tv, he knew that you wanted to be someone like Jessica Fletcher and her friends at Cabot Cove.

At one point, Gideon asked a question and you answered it right away, which took both of them back a bit, including your dad and everyone else in the room. A ten year old girl, understanding what was being said and not getting scared of the pictures that were shown. You were sure some of them thought of you crazy, but your dad was proud.

After the class, THE Jason Gideon and THE David Rossi came up to the two of you to talk. You were totally fangirling a bit because the two people you looked up to wanted to say how shocked but also kind of happy that someone so young was fascinated with this subject. Rossi told you several years later when you went to one of his book signings, that once you were old enough to give him a call and he'd set some things up to get you into the academy, and that's exactly what happened when you turned 21.

Because of your love of solving crime, you worked hard in school. So much so you were one of the top students. College was no different, and Rossi seemed to notice. He kept tabs on you from time to time to see how you were doing after you emailed him about doing well in high school and your first year of college. During your second year, Rossi asked if you could come to the BAU and talk with him and his coworker, Aaron, who was the team leader. They both agreed that you were incredible in your studies and saw a lot of potential in you. Your dream was starting to come true after accepting their invitation to the academy, and you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

Now you were 25, and Hotch had officially welcomed you to the team. As the ride back continued, you remembered how your first day went, even though it was only a few days ago. You met the team, and right away, you befriended the only one closer to your age, Dr.Spencer Reid. You remembered seeing his long hair and cardigan kind of melting together as he sat down at the round table and gave you a small wave. You didn't have many friends growing up, but he reminded you of your only friend back home, but that almost brought you to tears straight away, making you snap out of your daydreams.

You get up to have a glass of water. As your pouring, someone scares you from behind.

"Hey, Y/N!" A man's voice said.

You jumped which made you spill some water all over the place. "Spencer!"

"I am so sorry!" He chuckles as you both grabbed some paper towel to clean the counter, laughing at the incident.

You both go back to your seats, which were right next to each other on the couch. After meeting Spencer on your first day, Rossi told you that you two would get along perfectly. And you did. It made you feel comfortable right away and you pulling a...well, you, you were stuck to him like glue as a safety net. You used to think it was something every newbie did on their first day; try to find someone who you click with and stick with them until you got the ropes. Apparently, that was something people found annoying, and had you fired the first two jobs you got. With Spencer, however, he didn't mind it, which made you feel unsure but happy at the same time.

You and Spencer talked about the similarities you had and laughed at all the nerdy jokes you were making. At one point, another member of the team, Derek Morgan, had to throw a pillow at Spencer because he was laughing so loud and he was trying to sleep, which made even Hotch (who you guessed never even cracked a smile before) laugh a little bit.

"Boys, behave," Jj joked, not even looking up, "Or daddy's going to send you to your rooms when we get home."

"Ok, pLEASE don't say "daddy" ever again unless your at home." said Emily Prentiss, which made everyone laugh even harder.

You could tell that this team was more than just coworkers getting the job done, they were a family. And YOU were invited into this family. This was a feeling you always wanted: friends acting like a family.

30 Minutes Later

Finally you were back at the BAU. The case was stressful, and the flight back kinda made you tired, but your excitement and happiness were taking over rapidly. You usually fought those feelings because you felt emotions differently than others, and it always annoyed the people around you. Tonight was different, so you cut yourself some slack for once.

As you head back to your desks, Hotch spoke. "You guys deserve a break after that case. The heads of the BAU are giving us one month off. Get some rest and enjoy your vacation. Garcia invited us all to her place to celebrate but sadly Rossi and I are going to have to pass tonight. Jack has a big game tomorrow and I don't think the parents would be too pleased if their kid's coaches were hungover."

On cue, Penelope Garcia runs in with her bags. "Oh we're gonna have fun-to-night!"

"What exactly are we doing?" asked Emily.

"It's a surprise silly, but yes there will be alcohol of course." She then turns to you, walking up to go to elevator arm in arm.

"Y/N," she says, rambling to you how the team usually celebrates and what the plan was as you make your way to the elevator, "ok usually we'd go to our favorite restaurant or club or go to rossi's when we can but tonight I really want to celebrate the success on your first case!"

"Aww, Garcia!" you said as Morgan pressed the button, "Your so sweet. Thank you guys, seriously."

"Trust me, Y/N, this night is going to be one of the best nights ever!"

At Garcia’s Morgan sets the alcohol on the counter as everyone settles in. You sit on the couch with Spencer and Emily, getting a good look of Garcia's apartment. Purple walls with shiny (plastic) jewl's, cat toys filled most of the corners. Just as you saw the toys, a black cat jumps onto your lap making you jump a little.

"Aww, Sergio!" said Emily, "Thank you again Garcia for watching him for me while I go on cases."

"Are you kidding me? He's become a lovely roommate at the Garcia Gardens!" says Garcia as she brings over some bottles and glasses. She sets them down and begins to pour the Vodka shots.

"Garcia 'Gardens"? Jj asked.

"They both have G's, I don't know it seemed to work." They both laugh.

Morgan helps Garcia pass out the shots, getting ready for a toast. Everyone stands up, holding theirs shots a few inches away from their face.

"I would like to make a toast," said Garcia, "not just for the success of this case and because we have a month off, but to Y/N. She has done wonders this week, and I am so happy and grateful that you are now apart of our little family. To Y/N!"

"To Y/N!" Everyone cheered as they clinked their shot glasses.

You thought you were about to cry. You've never felt this much love in a room ever.

Everyone took their shots and sat back down. You look over at Spencer and laugh at the face he makes.

"God, I usually don't drink Vodka but that was an experience." he says.

"Oh c'mon," you said, "already gonna pussy out?"

"Now those were fighting words, Pretty Boy!" Morgan chuckled.

"Is that a challenge?" Spencer asks.

"Ok, I'm taking the shot glasses away because I know Spencer can get competitive and I don't want you to get sick." Garcia grabs the glasses from everyone's hand and walks to the kitchen, everyone giving a little whine about it.

"So what was that surprise you had for us?" you ask Garcia.

She walks in her room to grab something and came back with it behind her back.

"Before I say anything," she began, "I'm not forcing anyone to do anything they don't want to do and if no one wants to it's not a big deal."

Garcia takes her hands from behind her back to show what looked like vape pens. "Nicotine?" Emily asked.

"Noooo nonono," said Garcia, "That stuff is not good for anyone. They're weed...pens..." Garcia got quiet. You could understand why she got nervous, who knew if this would happen or not.

"Baby girl," said Morgan, "You are the last person I'd think of for this."

"Her parents were hippies, Morgan!" says Emily.

"Good point." He said.

"But now the question is, how?" you said.

"Well yeah, my parents were hippies. Both of my parents did before they got pregnant with me, but my dad would smoke when I was a kid. He would always do it before bed so he could actually fall asleep. He had horrible insomnia which he gave to me. A couple of months back, I couldn't sleep for the life of me. Nothing was wrong either for it to happen, but nothing could get me to fall asleep or if it did I acted the next day like I got up on the wrong side of the bed. So, I went to a doctor and got my green card and I've had peaceful nights of rest since. I thought, since we don't have to go into work for awhile, why not have some fun for one night?"

Everyone looked at each other, unsure but also kind of wanting to.

"This wouldn't be a problem with work, right?" asked Jj.

"Oh god, no, if we only do it tonight it'd be out of our system by then." said Reid.

Everyone was shocked hearing that coming from his mouth. "What? I had to do a research paper on the study of cannabis use in college."

You wanted to be the first to agree, but then you worried that it would be a bad look on you, the newbie.

"I'll give it a shot," said Emily, "It's only for one night and we have a lot more time off than we usually get, why the hell not?"

Slowly, everyone else agreed, including Spencer, who no one in the room thought in a million years he would. Garcia passes out the pens to everyone and told them how to use it. She said if we liked it, we could keep them for only certain situations where you absolutely needed it.

We all start taking 3 hits, which was the amount she said to take first. She explained how one time she took too many hits at once and greened out really bad.

Garcia turns on some music and we all sit around, drinking the very special drinks she made for us. The girls had vodka cocktails while the guys had whiskey. After a few minutes, you can start feeling it. Your body begins to tingle and your eyes started feeling heavy.

"How ya feeling, kid?" Morgan asks after several minutes. Spencer just sat there, looking at the ice cubes in his drink.

"Honestly, I've never felt this before. I don't know what I feel but it's nothing bad."

You giggle at his answer. It wasn't funny, and you knew that. Maybe you were giggling because seeing Spencer high was adorable.

"Ope, we have a giggler!" said Emily, but your giggling made everyone else giggle with you.

"Boy genius, you are too adorable!" said Garcia, who was sitting on Morgan's lap, her head on his shoulder.

You take more hits as the night goes on. At one point you had to stop because you were really baked. You've smoked before, so you knew your limit. You look over at Spencer again, but this time he was really sinked in the couch, looking up at the ceiling. What could that big brain be thinking in that now empty skull?

You were about to ask him but Garcia got up and grabbed an empty vodka bottle. "Who wants to play truth or dare?"

Everyone said they were in, except for Jj, who was already passed out in her chair.

"Damn, gone already?" Spencer says.

"You owe me five bucks tomorrow, Y/N" said Morgan. Earlier, you bet Morgan that Jj would stay up because he said she wouldn't. She tried her hardest, but sadly Morgan won. You move your head to Spencer's lap. You felt very cuddly for some reason, and Spencer was right next to you. He flinched a little, but then after a minute he started playing with your hair.

Garcia puts the empty bottle on the table and spins it. It lands on Emily. "Truth." she says.

"Have you ever made out with a girl?" asked Garcia.

"Are you kidding? Of course I have," she got quiet then murmured, "And I loved it."

"I knew it!" said Garcia.

Emily spins and it lands on Morgan. "Dare."

"I dare you to give Garcia a kiss! No making out, just a peck on the lips."

It happened, their banter had finally caught up with them. Derek and Penelope go in for the peck and once so they blushed.

Spencer was still playing with his hair. You looked up at him and saw something in his eye. Not literally, but there was something going on in his head. His eyes sparkled underneath the apartment lights. His mind must've been running all over the place thinking of something trippy, or maybe he suddenly wasn't thinking at all, letting his mind wonder to thoughts he never thought of before. The bottle was rarely spun to either of you, so you decided to talk softly.

"What are you thinking about, Spence?" you ask.

"I'm thinking about everything and nothing at once," he said, "It's hard to explain, like I'm thinking of things I wouldn't normally. Or at least not on a daily basis."

"What is tha-"

"Y/N! Truth or Dare?" said Garcia

"Umm...dare." you slurred. Were you really that fucked up right now?

Garcia thought for a moment, then as she looked at the two of you, a light bulb lit up in her head. "I dare you to take Spencer to my room, shut the door, and make out for 10 minutes!"

"10?!"

"What, are we still in high school?" you ask sarcastically.

"Be glad I didn't suggest 7 minutes in heaven. Poor boy is just so innocent!"

"Can you even get up, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asks as you lift your head from his lap and start to get up.

Spencer takes another vodka shot and a few more hits of his pen before getting up. After gaining his balance back, you take his hand and walk him to the bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and goes to lay on the bed. Arms stretched out on either side of him, he went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Wanna tell me what you're thinking about now?" you asked.

He said nothing. You then lay next to him, doing exactly what he was doing. Garcia had put glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling. They looked brighter than they would've have been to you. Your blurry vision made your tingles more intense as the lights played with your eyes. It was almost really trippy, but you felt so good.

"I've never felt like this before and usually we put people away because of weed, but for some reason, I feel at peace with everything.

"I'm sure if you got your green card, Hotch would be more understanding towards it. If not, Penelope would've been kicked off the team."

He placed his hand softly on your thigh. Spencer, you thought to yourself, she didn't say it was 7 minutes in heaven.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you said, "We can just ramble about anything and tell them we did."

He then gets on top of you, holding your wrists down to the bed. "No, I want to. Unless you don't want to, but this is what I've been thinking about when I was playing with your hair."

You nod your head. You knew what he meant because you were thinking the exact same thing at that same time. When you met him, you didn't think of him in that way. But once everything kicked in that night, you felt yourself slipping into that 'what if'. You thought he was cute when he was giggling at you, and the way his fingers were in your hair, it was like you'd known each other for years.

Spencer's lips were quickly on yours. It felt like heaven, like he had done this before. You kiss him back, indulging in the sweet bliss. It was your time to return the favor, as you run your fingers through his hair. You were into guys with long hair, and Spencer seemed to fit the bill. But in no way were you catching feelings for him. He'll probably not remember this night at all, so why get your hopes up when he's doing this for the dare.

Suddenly, you felt his right grip let go of your wrist and slowly began to go down your body. It made you feel heat from the bottom of your stomach. You haven't felt like this in a long time, needing for someone's touch. You felt ready though, ready for that feeling again. The feeling of letting go and go forward in lust. He stopped, however, letting you know that he was asking if you wanted to continue without breaking away from your lips. You nod and a small quiet moan left your muffled lips, letting him know it was ok.

His hand continued to go down your body, feeling every curve he could. His fingers gently graced your tits and it sent shivers up your spine. Soon enough, you felt his fingers lightly rub the fabric that stood between him and your slit. His touch was so feather like you thought he was teasing you just to get you all worked up.

"I've hardly done anything to you and you're already so wet for me." He said through the kiss. You were shocked how his tone changed from sweet and innocent to dark and low. It kind of turned you on. Somehow, you went from being dared to just make out to what felt like was going into 7 minutes in heaven, except not in a closet.

He then continued to rub the fabric is circles as he broke the kiss. With the moon being your only source of light, you see the hunger in his eyes. He wants you and he wants you bad. He smiles as he moves the fabric over to the side and sticks his middle finger inside you, making you gasp at the entrance. His grin grew bigger as he really felt how wet you really were.

He sticks another finger in there and you let out a moan that you were trying to be soft about, but you were louder than you wanted to be. Spencer quickly covered your mouth with his hand, continuing to pleasure you. "Be quiet, angel," He whispered in your ear, "You don't want the others to know what we're doing, do you?" You shook your head. "Good girl, now tell me when you're close. I want you to cum all over my fingers."

You never thought of Spencer as the dominate type. He seemed so to himself and sweet. You thought he'd be more submissive. Maybe it was his cross faded brain talking, but this side of Spencer made you want more of him. You wanted so much more than his fingers. Your thoughts clouded you as you were reaching your climax.

"Spencer I'm close. I'm so close!" You quietly moaned.

"Hold it, angel. I want you to beg for me."

You couldn't hold it in anymore. "Please let me cum, PLEASE!" You begged.

"Cum for me, angel."

At that, you felt your whole body tense up and almost screamed at the pleasure, but knew to just whisper it and breathe heavily. He laughed with a bit of a growl, feeling you on all over his fingers. He was enjoying this, and you could tell by the tent in his pants. You wondered if you were going to help him out with that as your breathing began to go back to it's normal pattern. He gets off of you as the timer went off, and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting yourself.

"Ok lovebirds, time's up!" you heard Morgan say.

You sit up from the bed as Spencer sat next to you. "We'll be right out!" You said, "Holy shit, Spence. I didn't think you had this side to you."

"Everyone does," he said, "I know I pull off this small and meak kind of person, but they don't know what I think about when I'm at home. Even sometimes at work when I'm stressed on a case. I'll just give myself a breather and let my mind wonder. I even-"

He stopped himself in his tracks, taking back what he was originally going to say. He stood up, pulling you up with him. Your faces were then really close together. "Now, tonight I won't have you touch me. We'll save that for another day ok?" You nod again. "What are you going to do about 'that'?" Pointing to the tent.

"I'm gonna take care of it in the bathroom. Now, we don't tell anyone about this. Especially Garcia."

"Yeah, it'd be a bit weird if she found out that you fingered me on her bed."

"Well that, and the fact that she can't keep a secret to herself for the life of her."

"Good to know." you said.

You did as planned and walked out, going your different ways. You headed back to the living room and joined the rest of your coworkers. You sat there and took more hits and more shots, hoping to pass out. You couldn't help but want to let your thoughts wonder on its own.