#im snagging this as a gift idea now!

[tmntxthings]

YOU 🫵 *points directly at that mean y/n, you, and that anon that asked for ansgt against rottmnt Raph* how very dare you !!!!!!

(If you have time and if your asks are open (didn’t see any warnings that it was close)) can you PLEASE do something fluffy and that reader is ABSOLUTELY head of hells for raphie? I’m talking flowers, I’m talking spending hours on a claw machine to get a plushie he wants it, I’m talking admiring and tracing his features slowly with the most stupid and hopeless in love expression the turtles have ever seen, im talking speaking up for him against anyone that mistreats him, doing his fav dishes, preparing balanced meals, paintings, little love notes, lipstick marks, poems under moonlight, I want devotion!!!! I want that sweet Puppy love !!!!! EVERYTHING. 100% a simp and isn’t afraid to show it, until Raph returns their actions, then they get bashful/blushing up a storm lol

thank you and have a good day

∑一Wherever You Go・゜・。

author’s notes: ain’t no way I’m doing that whole list we’ll be here forever, BUT don’t worry I’ll make sure he feels the love nonetheless

warnings: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, bordering on a crack fic that’s purely just to show a character love ^ twas asked of me, unedited

Song: Never Getting Rid of Me by Christopher Fitzgerald

—————————————————————————

It was no secret that you adored Raph. And it didn’t bother you one bit that everyone, big red turtle included, knew that you had heart eyes for him.

Your love language for him couldn’t be restricted to just one kind. You exhibited all kinds of love for him. You hoped it wasn’t overwhelming. It was hard to stop yourself once you had an idea though.

One time you saw a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Instantly you had them in your hand, and a receipt in the other. They reminded you of his bandana. So bright, eye-catching! And down to the lair you went, shooting off an incoming text to Raph to give him a last-minute notice.

Earlier occasions where you hadn’t sent a text left you waiting around at a manhole cover forever. If Raph was asleep it would be hard to rouse him with just a notification. He’d need a full on blare horn. Or worst case scenario the boys weren’t even at the lair! Thankfully, most of the time they were home. Raph buzzed back with a text saying he’d be right up to open the cover for you. Sewer covers were heavy!

When the round slab of stone was lifted you offered up the bouquet to the darkness below instantly. It was quiet for a moment, before Raph emerged, cheeks tinted a darker green. “For me?” He questioned, his tone held a quality as if it was unbelievable for him to receive flowers.

But you didn’t chide him for it. In fact you only smiled warmly and nodded your confirmation. “I thought of you the moment I saw them. What do you think? Aren’t they pretty?”

His hands finally went out, accepting your gift. Holding them gingerly and away from his plastron. He seemed to not want any of the petals to snag on his sharp edges. “Raph loves ‘em” he murmured, his eyes entranced by the blossoms now that he could get a closer look.

This moment right here was picture worthy! You wished you had Donnie’s ability to just record everything, that way you could screenshot this later. Maybe put it as your screensaver. Instead you just watched, hands clasped as you waited for Raph to come out of his stupor. Which he did, and started asking you about your favorite flowers and invited you down to the lair.

~

You don’t know how they got the arcade machines down there. But it sure as hell beat going to Chuck-E-Cheese! Nothing against the place but it costs so much and all the games down at the lair are rigged to play for free! Which was awesome because you had finally decided, you weren’t leaving the claw machine until you won Raph’s dream plushie.

The poor turtle had played this game constantly ever since they mysteriously got the machine. He was able to get two plushies but they weren’t the ones he really wanted. The ultimate prize was a brown teddy bear with a little red bow tie. He was absolutely adorable. And Raph’s obsession with winning his prize was even more endearing. So when Raph texted you a picture of his defeated expression against the glass of the claw machine, you had to take matters into your own hands.

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ <image> 🥺 it’s hopeless ]

Y/n - [ omw asap, don’t worry raphie i’ll get you teddy! ❤️💪 ]

Well, easier said than done is a term of phrase for a reason. You banged your head against the glass or you tried to at least. But Raph’s calloused palm was in front of the glass before your forehead could make contact. Still you drew back to bang it against his rough skin anyway. He knew your frustrations, the claw machine was merciless. You had been at the lair for well over two hours. The first thirty minutes in had been fine. You had chatted with Raph easily, confident that eventually you would get the hang of the mechanism.

But then an hour went by. And then another. Your concentration on the game had dried up the easy conversation between you and big red. The atmosphere was intense as if the two of you were in battle together. Currently you were both defeated. His other hand patted your back, knowing exactly how you felt. “It’s okay, maybe Teddy isn’t meant to join my pile of plushies.”

You took in a deep breath. Stopping your frustrated head thumps and turned to look Raph in the eyes. “You’re right, Teddy is meant to sleep right next to you! And I’m gonna make that happen!” You harrumphed as you turned back to the evil machine. It was your enemy. It was working against you. All you wanted to do was this one thing and make Raph happy! This time for sure, you thought to yourself as you hovered the claw over to where Teddy lay amongst the other plushies.

“Like a boss!!!” You yelled as you smacked the button that lowered the claw. Both of you watched anxiously as it dropped, its metal fingers enclosing around Teddy’s brown fur, and it started to rise. But you had been here before and didn’t dare to celebrate pre-maturely before the damn stuffed animal was in Raph’s arms. The grip the machine had on the animal was shaky at best. The claw swayed from side to side as it carried the plushie over to the drop box. You were sweating bullets and could smell Raph’s anxiety stink.

But before the claw reached its final destination, the plushie tumbled out of its hold. You turned to Raph who let out a breath he had been holding. You expected to see disappointment in his eyes but it was quite the opposite. He looked happy as his snaggle-tooth dug into his lower lip. “Nice try,” his eyes crinkled shut with his smile. “Wanna go play DDR?” You sighed, letting the claw machine have the win for now. Happy to see Raph’s eyes light up with a burning passion as he raced over to his favorite spot, the left side, for DDR. “Ready to face the master??” He goaded but it was pure excitement to play one of his favorites of all time. “So ready!” You laughed, hopping up on the dance pad to get absolutely demolished because you didn’t have any rhythm. But you played regardless because when Raph was having fun so were you.

And yes, later that night you did bribe Donnie with twenty bucks to replace that damned claw with one that would actually work. So next time you were able to win Teddy and present Raph with the ultimate present. It costed you another twenty to keep Donnie’s mouth shut about ever having any involvement so you could have all the credit and look like a hero in Raph’s starry eyes. He sent you pictures of him and the stuffed animal almost every night with his goodnight message.

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ <image> Teddy says goodnight! ]

Y/n - [ gnight teddy, and goodnight raph-a-la 🤗 sweet dreams ]

~

“What did you say?!” Your voice raised as you stepped into the lair’s common room. Shelldon had just so kindly lifted the manhole cover, since no one else from the group chat was responding! You thought it weird since usually someone was on their phone *cough* Donnie *cough* but sometimes they were busy! Which you understood. Until you had seen Shelldon’s worried pixelated expression as he urged you on down the sewer system to the abandoned subway station.

That was when you heard it. Heated arguing. It was hard to listen to especially when it was Leo and Raph. You knew how much all of them loved one another, a love that even harsh words couldn’t damage. But sometimes, things were said in the heat of the moment that weren’t meant to argue a point. They were said to hurt the other person. That’s where you drew the line. That’s where you felt the need to step in, even if you weren’t family.

“Leo, if you’d just try, even a little, at accepting the role as a leader. It’s not that bad-“

“If it’s not that bad then why don’t you just take it back huh?”

“You know why. Dad said you-“

“Dad said this! Dad says that! What are you his little pet? Since when do we do whatever Dad says?!”

“Leo, c’mon,”

“Raph if you don’t wanna be the leader anymore. Then fine. But don’t push it on to me.”

“I never said that, Dad thinks-“

“For someone who’s catchphrase is ‘boss’ you really like being someone’s little bit—“

And that’s when you stepped into the room. Eyes hardened as you marched in between the two turtles. “What did you just say?!” You dared Leo to repeat. But as he studied your stance and the way you got in front of Raph, as if protecting him from Leo, the blue turtle started to duck his head into his shell. Feeling remorseful for getting so heated. He made a ‘tsk’ noise before heading off to his room. Mumbling sorries as he passed by.

You turned to Raph to check the damage. It seemed like just the two of you now. You wondered if they had started fighting because Mikey and Donnie weren’t around. Raph was rubbing the side of his head, looking drained and it tugged on your heart strings to see him that way. You knew brothers argued, sure they even fought sometimes. But it was hard to see them go at it like this.

“I know you’re not okay, so I won’t ask. But just know Leo didn’t mean any of that. I know he didn’t.”

Raph gives you a weak smile in return. Like he doesn’t believe you. But doesn’t have the heart to say it aloud. So you go to him, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards the couch. He goes without resistance. Once seated, you turn to him and he turns to you. Your hands go up and you cup his face now that he is within your reach.

“He’s scared. Just like you are. I know it’s hard to tell right now when he’s saying anything but that. But you know Leo, he’ll spew just about any nonsense to not say how he truly feels.”

The words turn over in Raph’s head as he thinks. He sighs, softening in your hold as he nods. He looks a little better now. But you don’t let him go. You trace the contours of his face. Lovingly. Letting the tension in the room ebb out until the early argument has left both of your minds completely.

“It’ll be okay. I know it will.”

You murmur. Your hands finally letting go as Raph’s breathing deepens. He fell asleep to your touch. Leaned back into the couch as his snores start up. You scoot over until your head can rest on his arm, pulling up your phone to text Leo to get his ass over here. A portal silently opens up on the other side of you and as Leo sits next to you, you pull him closer with your arm.

“Dummy.”

You chide the blue turtle as tears fall down his green cheeks. He huffs at the insult but knows you mean well. When you leave the lair that night the two brothers are tangled together in a pile that will surely be four later on, alls forgiven.

~

Raph eats just about anything. His stomach knows no limits. So you could char the meat on accident and he’d still wolf it down like it was the best meal he ever had. While that was kind of him, you wanted to really impress his palate. So on the topic of food one late night text session, you asked of his favorites. To which a long list was sent over. So you had to ask him again.

Y/n - [ Okay, that’s really cool that you have so many. But which one is your favorite among the favorites? 👀 ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ that’s a hard one… uhmmmmm ]

With a lot of encouragement he managed to get the favorite list down to five choices. To which you just decided to hell with it, you’ll have a feast! It took a lot of preparation. And more time than you thought you’d ever spend in your kitchen. But five meals were cooked and prepared perfectly on your round table. Now, you wished you’d told Raph of your plan sooner and hoped to the moon above that he didn’t have plans tonight.

Y/n - [ >image< hungry? C: ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 [ 😱 always! headin ur way ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 [ hereeeeeeee open ur windowwwww ]

And yes somehow he fit. He was good at wiggling around. He cleared each and every plate once you had tapped out after trying to keep up with him. Food comas hit the both of you soon after as he got up and claimed he would do the dishes. He was so cute as he wobbled up sleepily from the kitchen chair. Arms full of plates and platters as well as cups for not only water but various sodas/juices had been served that you knew to be Raph’s favorites as well. When he had asked what the occasion was you didn’t have any in mind.

“I just wanted to!”

You chirped. Happy to feed him. Happy to have made his day. Now he was as careful as one giant turtle could be with your plates, but to his dismay the bottom one from the pile ended up breaking due to the clatter when he placed them in the sink. He wouldn’t know it until he was practically done with cleaning, feeling so good about himself for not breaking any of the— oh there it was. The last one. In pieces.

“Raph is so so sorry! You made a nice meal only for Raph to break your plate!”

No matter how much he wished he could fuse the remains back together, he’d need glue. And you apparently didn’t have any in your apartment. He sighed to which you hushed all his worries away.

“Raphie! It’s just one plate, I’ve got more! Plenty more as you can see!”

You, who had been drying the dishes he washed. Gestured with the damp towel towards the pile of neatly stacked plates that were all dry. The force of which you whipped the towel was more than you had intended and you both watched as that perfect stack fell over, onto the counter and off on to the floor.

“Well. I may need to go buy some more.”

You admitted sheepishly. Raph didn’t know whether to be upset for you or laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Yeah, let’s go get some now!”

After picking up and sweeping to make sure all the shattered pieces were in the trash. That’s exactly what the two of you did. It was little things that Raph did, like worry needlessly over you accidentally cutting yourself with one of the broken plate pieces. Or him getting shy at every compliment and gift you had to offer him. His humble nature. How he readily takes on responsibilities. His love for his family. His diligence when it comes to crime fighting and working out. His carefree side. You loved it all. You told him all the things that enamored you to him. And the two of you were happiest, when you could just spend time together like this. Doing little things.

—————————————————————————

[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 15 - Presents

The A-Team

Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, Frankie and reader were in the military, Frankie and reader have kids, established relationship (husband and wife), breeding kink if you squint, oral sex (f), piv sex, fluff, smut, Frankie being both a menace and a pussy eating king, kids are unnamed, no age is mentioned so reader could be any age you want, stuff im forgetting

Summary: Frankie distracts you from wrapping gifts--not that you're complaining

A/N: Hey, y'all. I'm tired out of my mind, and I hope y'all enjoy this :') Tmw's prompt involves Dieter Bravo, so if you have any ideas for that, feel free to send them in <3

***

You’re finally in your zone. 

The kids are at their grandparents, Frankie’s in the shower, and you’re sitting in the middle of the living room with a stack of presents waiting to be wrapped. It’s not every day that you get a chance to get something like this done without the interruption of your kids, no matter how much you love them. 

You have the coffee table shoved off to the side so you are able to spread your supplies out across the expanse of the room. There’s Christmas music playing lowly from a radio in the kitchen. You hum along as you attempt to wrap a mini Barbie dreamhouse that your daughter had been begging for. 

It’s one of those boxes where you just can’t seem to get the perfect amount of paper to cover it. 

You sigh in frustration as you attempt to pull the ends together, straining the paper on the sides. Of course you’re about an inch short. Giving up for now, you pull the box away from the paper and reach for a slightly smaller one. 

This one contains a lego kit for your youngest son. You remember picking it up in the store and discreetly showing Frankie. Your son had been with you, thankfully distracted by your phone as Frankie quickly snagged it and snuck away to purchase it while you continued shopping. 

When he came back to your side from putting it under a blanket in the car, neither of you had enough composure to cover your smiles. You still get such a giddy feeling when the two of you complete ‘heists’ every now and again. It reminds you that, even three kids later, the A-team’s still got it. 

Of course, once you had gotten pregnant with your eldest, you had left that line of work, and Frankie along with you. You miss it every now and again, and you can tell that he does too, but neither of you would trade your life now for anything. Your husband and children make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world. 

Just then, Frankie walks into the living room, finding you smiling and staring off into space as your thoughts distract you. 

“What’s got you so happy, hermosa?” he asks as he walks to you and bends down to plant a kiss on your head. You snap out of your trance and snag his collar as he tries to straighten back up, instead pulling him to your lips for a quick kiss. 

He smiles at you when you let go of him and takes a seat on the sofa you’re sitting in front of. You set the lego box back down and lean your back between Frankie’s legs. 

“Just thinking about us,” you tell him dreamily. 

“Oh?” Frankie says with a slight chuckle. “What about us?” This time his tone holds more of a suggestive quality as he reaches a hand down to tuck a fallen bit of hair behind your ear. 

You roll your eyes and swat his leg. 

“Not like that, you horndog,” you tease, laughing all the same. “Thinking about how good we used to be.”

“What do you mean, baby? We’re fucking awesome,” Frankie says without a hint of sarcasm. You laugh at him. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “I guess we are.” 

You suddenly pull yourself up, standing in front of your husband. He puts his hands on your waist as you gaze into each other's lust-full eyes. He gives your hip a slight squeeze, and you straddle his lap, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and slotting your lips against his. 

Frankie wraps his strong arms around you as he moans into your mouth, still insatiable for you even after all these years. His lips are soft as they glide effortlessly against yours. 

You can feel the way he hardens beneath you, and you grind into the prominent bulge presented. Frankie whimpers at the friction, hardening further. 

“Fuck, need to be inside you, baby,” Frankie says, near breathless when he pulls away from your kiss. You nod at him, jumping up and tugging him after you. You both strip as you make your way to a spot that’s not covered by wrapping paper. 

Frankie nods at the space, and you quickly lay down. You can feel the heat coming from the fireplace lit beside you, the half of your body further from it erupting with goosebumps. Shivering slightly, you watch your husband descend to his knees in front of you, situating himself between your thighs. 

He backs down, keeping eye contact until his face is level with your cunt. Your breathing is heavy as you watch in anticipation until he puts his mouth on you, immediately enveloping your clit. You moan loudly, suddenly extremely thankful that the house is empty tonight. 

Frankie’s tongue gets to work, quickly flicking over your clit and then moving lower to dip inside your dripping hole. He alternates speeds and techniques, speeding up and slowing in rapid succession as he moves his face up and down and left to right. 

He knows your body almost better than you do, hitting all of your favorite spots without effort. You jump each time he does so, your hand flying to tug at his thick waves after a particularly pleasurable spark erupts. 

Frankie groans as you tug him further into you by his hair, the sharp sting on his scalp making his hips rut down into nothing.

He jolts his arms out to secure you by your waist, pulling you further to him now. Your legs kick out as your head falls back with the added pressure, your grip in his hair tightening. 

“Fuck, Frankie!” you half yell, half moan. The intense pleasure quickly builds your orgasm, bringing you to the edge before you even realize you had been approaching. 

“Oh, f-fuck! I-” you’re cut off by your orgasm, your body shaking and going warm as Frankie pushes his tongue into your cunt. He laps up your cum as quickly as it spills out of you, moaning the entire time. 

As soon as you’ve ridden out your high, Frankie’s on top of you again, desperately locking his lips with yours as he notches himself at your entrance and pushes in with one thrust. The force of it punches a good bit of air out of you, and you have to pull away from him to catch your breath. 

“So fucking good, hermosa,” Frankie begings to ramble once his mouth is free, already pussy-drunk. “Wet and tight and warm, pulling me in so good like you’re scared to lose this cock. You won’t; ‘s all yours, baby.”

You whimper and moan at his dirty words, already feeling that fiery sensation burning low in your belly as he thrusts into your cervix with a delicate precision. He’s somewhere between fucking you and making love; almost like he wants to take his time to savor you, but he’s so addicted that he can’t allow himself to do that. 

“Feel so good, Francisco,” you tell him, kissing his stubbly jaw. “Want you to f-fill me up, baby.” 

“I know, I know. Gonna pump you so fuckin’ full of me you’ll be dripping my cum for days,” Frankie doesn’t miss a beat, his hips stuttering lightly at the thought he conjured. 

“Oh–please,” you beg, unsure what for at this point. 

“I got you, honey, I got you.” 

Frankie kisses every sliver of skin on your face as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. He only separates himself once to push his thumb into your mouth, allowing you to coat it in your saliva before bringing it over your sensitive clit. 

He begins to rub slow circles, and it pushes you past your peak, your hips bucking up as you moan loudly. Frankie makes a choking sound as you squeeze around his thick cock, triggering his own orgasm. 

He groans into your neck as he releases his cum into you, your pussy milking every drop. You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your skin almost glittering in the firelight. 

When you both settle down, Frankie still nestled inside you despite his cock softening, you simply watch each other. He lays his head down on your steadily rising and falling chest, observing your beauty as the flames flicker and make your skin shine. 

As badly as you want to close your eyes and go to sleep right now, you sigh deeply and accept the fact that it’s smarter for you to finish your task. You might now have another opportunity to wrap gifts outside of your cramped bedroom floor other than tonight. 

“Alright, baby,” you say with a gentle finality that makes Frankie sigh as well. “I need to finish wrapping the presents. You’re welcome to join me.” 

You look down at him, raising your eyebrows in a way that makes your last quip more of an unskippable task than an invitation. Frankie juts his lips out, looking at you with a pointed stare. 

“Only if we can do it naked,” he bargains. You bite your lip to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face. 

“Frankie!” you gasp, trying to conceal your laughter.

“What?” he asks with feigned innocence.  

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle, feeling like a child all over again.

***

Thank you for reading, I love you all <3

lmk if u want to join the countdown taglist

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

[the-s1lly-corner]

I very much loved what you wrote for my ask makes me happy in my tummy.

Here's another ask hope it's not a lot for you how about a reader who's looks like those circus carousel horses, Being all pretty and sparkly with the TADC crew or just caine if you want light work!

♡Sleep well♡

U(•ㅅ•)U

TADC cast x reader who is a carousel horse!

that post sillyness (meltdown) slump is really hitting, but i feel bad for not answering requests yesterday... think i might answer one or two today, and perhaps write some stuff for myself in between doing the stuff i need to get done today apolocheese if this is a little shorter than usual </3 admin is still a lil WAAAAAAA and theyre on a time crunch (writing on computer today, but it needs to restart soon for an update)

CAINE:

oh i just know hes going to be going crazy over this, its not often that you get circus themed members around in the digital circus, so hes so hyped to have someone who can at least somewhat fit into that (admin must admit, they know next to nothing about carousels). probably makes themed IHA based around you and your whole thing; whatever that might mean... if youre shiny and/or reflective i just know hes going to pretend to check himself out in your reflections, does it usually to get a laugh out of you if youre having a bad day. gives you loads of new accessories and such

POMNI:

very shiny very pretty. i think pomni would like shiny things, but that might be self projection. kind of looks at you with that huge eyed look she got when she saw her door and/or her reflection in the pilot. looks but doesnt touch because she doesnt want to breach any boundaries. you can easily carry her, probably. shes tiny... though you will have to ask her and warn her before you just decide to pick her up since i dont think she would be cool with you just treating her like some house cat (snorts). subconsciously messes with your hair/mane when you two are hugging/snuggling each other

RAGATHA:

makes her own accessories to give to you. she thinks youre really pretty! very well crafted stuff, me thinks. offers to do your hair and tail (if you have one) every now and then! perhaps even offers to polish you up in hard to reach spots such as your back! generally very nice and lets you know that she thinks youre pretty... bonus if you have some sort of music ambience that plays around you most of the time that tends to reflect your mood, she ends up using that as a little indicator of how youre feeling.... perhaps you two slow dance together to one of your songs.... ponders

JAX:

originally i was going to say he jokes about wanting to ride you but then i realized how that sounded and i am not about that life (i say as i still put it in the post because it aint that serious) but you know, because youre a horse? but also while i was writing caines part, i mention that he checks his reflection if youre... well reflective... i feel like jax would do the same thing, but be more obnoxious about it... like im talking hes fully leaning into it, cleaning the gaps in between his teeth, slicking his ears back. the works, you know? probably snags your ribbons and such every now and then so youre forced to talk to him, he thinks its funny even if its kind of a dick move, but its.. jax, are we really surprised?

KINGER:

similar to pomni i can kind of see kinger also liking shiny stuff but i think this time its just the admin self projecting. probably collects little trinkets he finds that remind him of you and gifts them to you. pretty combs, ribbons, rocks, ect. i think its sweet, basically saying "hey, i thought about you!" you know? sometimes you let him stroke your hair when hes stressed out, works like a charm. revisiting the musical ambience idea, you tend to play the general music that plays during carousel rides, but every now and then it turns into a softer and calmer tune, and that does wonders for kinger after a long and hard day... shrugs

ZOOBLE:

as mean as it sounds you are kind of the opposite of the things like find interest in, since admin hcs that zooble is into the macabre and spooky, you know? but thats not to say that they dont like you! quite the contrary, actually! they have an understanding that you didnt choose this body.. thinks... ooo imagine how funny it would be if youre this really pretty horse with pretty music but you share the same interests as them... i dont now i always liked that trope. cute/innocent character being into scary stuff, intimidating/unconventionally cute character being into sweet and cute stuff.. thinks... sometimes helps you style yourself if youre interested in a new look

GANGLE:

also thinks youre very pretty! probably has made drawings of you and gifted them to you! sometimes redoes the ribbons you wear in your hair and as accessories. very good at making bows and such! might even sometimes help you with your makeup, if you wear any + if its able to be taken off... since, you know... digital bodies and stuff... hmm.. not many thoughts for gangle, at least not any unique ones that havent been said already in general/in this post... apologies gangle nation admin just struggles to write her

[motorcity-thoughts]

ive had this idea floating around in my head that could probably be a fanfic?? like idk ive been thinking of making this into a fan made “episode” script but in case i dont do anything with it i wanna share it rn cuz its been in my noggin since a week ago!!! aa!!!

at first this just started as an animatic idea of a chase scene between red and chuck but then i tried to elaborate on it all. ive been curious as to how they would interact, so im gonna make them for like 1 minute BUT UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCES? one mission, assigned to red. Kane has been studying the burners one by one, and there was one who caught his eye.. chuck. he seems to be the closest to mike, literally riding shotgun with him IN HIS CAR in almost every battle so far, and he was the one who managed to hack into kane’s warpod that one day along with being the boy responsible for shutting down a kmg MID AIR. the boy is smart; he might know a thing or two. both about precision, and most importantly.. chilton.

kane (or actually the r&d department lol) has a little gift prepared for him. all they need is the actual boy to give it to. the thing is, he’s never seen alone.. they need him by himself. this is a special mission, one that requires stealth and speed, so who better to send to get the job done than red? he’s beat mike down almost twice, and even captured him once with a bit of help. here’s the plan: lure the burners out of their lil junkyard with kane bots, follow them from a close distance & use chuck’s “gift” to disrupt surrounding power sources (INCLUDING the burner cars engines) which should result in them crashing near a foggy area, and snag chuck.

the burners get out to investigate their engines.. they’ve been shut down. but from what?? their car hoods were completely shut- SURPRISE!! red takes chuck away into the fog!! o noes!! (insert chase scene with chuck lol) once he’s in red’s hands, he literally plugs kane’s surprise gift into chuck’s back, attaching itself to him and to his nerves like a parasite. the extending wires almost glow through his skin as they enter his body.. compressing his current memories and sending commands to his brain. chuck’s struggling was getting weaker by the minute as more commands began to take over his brain. he would now be used as a weapon against chilton once an for all.

thats as far as i got since ive been rrlllyyy busy lately :p okbye

[beautifulblooms]

I had this idea, but I don’t write, but you write and have no idea so…

What about Eddie Munson with a m!reader that’s into rock and plays drums but he doesn’t know it(this is important later)

So they are friends for a while, and reader dresses and acts nice like “formal and decent person”( you know the last person on earth that would play a loud not classic instrument) , hangs around with his dnd friends, crushing on each other, and at some point he mentions to Eddie that he enjoys rock music, he kind of forgets it until reader invites him over to his house for the first time and decides to arrive a little early or something. We know the drill. He bangs on the door, no one opens, let’s himself in and hears “rebel yell” by billy idol blasting from a room and when he gets in the reader is playing the drums while singing his hart into the song ( at the 3 minute mark of the song it gets a little calm and then back again strong well that’s the part we’re Eddie enters the room) ( also the reader could be looking at a picture of Eddie and him or some note/ gift from Eddie) (instead of saying “she” the reader sings “he” to refer it like Eddie) he interrupts reader admits his feelings or something it’s up to you

First request ever and is awfully specific so put and take away what ever you like. I will love you the rest of my life if you actually do it. :)

What a Surprise That Was - Eddie Munson x Male!Reader

Male!Reader, he/him used, I love this idea and I definitely had a fun time writing it, rebel yell is a fantastic choice for a song fic and this turned out better than I originally planned. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

Tags: @qthetherapist, @rlmt1, @eddieverse, @alexs-playground

Sitting down at the table I noticed that Eddie wasn’t there yet, which was really strange considering he was usually the first to “claim the table”. 

“Hey Gareth, have you seen Ed’s?” Pulling out a textbook I felt like taking the extra opportunity to study for my classes.

“Uh yeah I’m pretty sure he’s in O’Donnell’s before lunch, saw him go in for third period, why?” If he’s in there who knows what she’s saying to him, she’s never been kind to kids who had to retake her class.

“Just a little worried why he wasn’t here first, that’s all.” I didn’t like that the attention was on me so I tried to go back to focusing on the textbook in front of me. Right as I was turning the page to move onto another section a bag was thrown down on the table next to me scaring the shit out of me. I glanced over to it, Eddie’s bag, looking further up I saw him sit down with an angry pout.

“O’Donnell is riding my ass to pass her class, which wouldn’t be a problem if I wasn’t army crawling myself to a D already. I’m fucked if she doesn’t get off my back.” Leaning back in his chair he let out a groan and covered his eyes, then an idea popped into my head.

“What if I tutor you?” He sprung back to look me dead in the eyes and they almost seemed to sparkle.

“Are you serious? That would be the biggest fucking help right now!” He almost yelled, getting a couple of glances from other tables. 

“Sure why not, you can just come over to my house later tonight to start if you want.” Shrugging my shoulders I snagged a notebook from my bag, tore out a sheet and wrote my address on it before handing it to Eddie. “Just show up around 5, if that works for you.” He still looked astonished that I had even offered to tutor him, let alone at my house.

“Of course, I’ll be there, thanks pretty boy.” My eyes widened and it was my turn to be shocked, definitely didn’t expect to be called pretty. Without even trying I went about the rest of my day thinking about how he called me a pretty boy. I kinda wished he called me his pretty boy…WHAT AM I THINKING ABOUT HE’S MY FRIEND, he’s my friend and im tutoring him, I can’t be thinking like this. I just need to make it through the day, get home, put on some comfortable clothes and calm down before Eddie gets there. And that’s exactly what I did, finished up dealing with my classes, got in my car and drove home as fast as the speed limits allowed me, I needed to calm down. What’s a better way to calm down than blasting music in my room and playing along with it, cause I haven’t found anything else that does the trick. 

“Hey kiddo, how was school?” My mom called from the kitchen, guess she was prepping dinner.

“Uh it was fine, I have a friend coming over later that I’m tutoring, he should be around 5, if he knocks will you let him in?” I wandered into the kitchen and stood across from her at the kitchen island. 

“Sure, what does he look like, I don’t want to let a random person in.” Now how do I say this without mentioning he’s a full grown man repeating senior year, got it.

“About 5’10, long dark hair, it’s curly, usually in a leather jacket with a sleeveless jean jacket over it, baggy jeans, he drives a black van.” I really hope I did my best to not add anything that would give away how much I liked him, she doesn’t need to know that. 

“Aright, I’ll send him up to your room when he gets here.” She smiled gently at me, it felt almost too knowing of what was happening in my head.

“Thanks mom, I’ll be playing my drums until he gets here.” Turning around I ran up the stairs skipping a step as I tried to get to my room quickly. Throwing the door open I tossed my bag on my bed, won’t be needing that for a little. The clock on my nightstand read 4:15, leaving me about 45 minutes to have fun before Eddie gets here. Taking off the stiff, good school boy outfit I had grown to use for school so no one would think of me less I threw on a pair of sweats and a Van Halen shirt. I snagged my sticks out of the paint bucket I kept them in, sure I could’ve used something nicer but it just felt right to reuse something instead of just throwing it away. Standing upright I put a cassette tape into the stereo next to the bucket that had most of my favorite songs, cranking the volume up I started to nod along to the rhythm and moved to my drums. Pulling the seat back slightly I sat down and waited a second to pick up the beat from the song before playing along. A little bit later one of the songs I had practiced the most came on; Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. Drumming along to the beat a little more enthusiastically I sang along with it.

“Last night a little dancer, he came dancing to my door. Last night, that little angel, he came pumping on my floor. He said, "Come on, baby, you got a license for love and if it expires, I pray help from above.” Without paying attention I changed the pronouns to “he”, thinking of Eddie before glancing up at the wall behind my bed where a few pictures of us sat, some random things he’d gotten me lying about my dresser too.Continuing to sing I didn’t even notice that someone had knocked on the front door, let alone it opening. 

“Hi I’m here to study with (y/n), he’s supposed to be tutoring me.” Eddie shyly told my mom, she beamed at him with a loving smile. 

“Come on in, he’s playing his drums right now but just head up the steps and I’m sure you can find his room.” She closed the door behind him and pointed to the stairs leading to the second floor. Starting his way up the stairs he heard me singing. 

“I walked the ward for you, babe a thousand miles for you. Now who dried my tears of pain, babe? A million times for you, for you, I'd sell my soul for you, babe.” Almost immediately he recognized the familiar music, really surprised I knew any of it.

“What's money to burn for you, for you I'd give you all, and have none, babe justa, justa have you here by me, Because. In the midnight hour he cried more, more, more. With a rebel yell he cried more, more, more, yow!” Standing in the doorway to observe me playing Eddie wanted to say something, anything but didn’t dare interrupt me having the time of my life. 

“In the midnight hour, babe, more, more, more with a rebel yell more. More, more, more! Ooh yeah, my little dancer. He want more, more, more, more, more. More, more, more, more. He want more, more, more, more, more, yeah!” Finishing up the song I sat still for a second catching my breath before standing up to turn the stereo down. 

“That was incredible and the most surprising thing I have ever seen from you (L/n). Truly didn’t expect you to be a drummer, and you’re real good at it.” Eddie finally spoke while I was throwing my sticks back into their paint bucket. I shot up to look at him, how long had he been there, what did he hear, fuck fuck fuck, I didn’t think this is how he would find out. 

“Um, hey Ed’s, when did you get here?” I couldn’t force myself to move, wanting to just cower into a ball and pray he hadn’t heard me change ‘she’ to ‘he’ in the song. “About halfway through that awesome performance of Rebel Yell, and I meant to ask you something about it, the lyrics are about a girl, so why were you saying ‘he’?” So he did notice, I guess it’s now or never.

“Because I didn’t want to sing about a girl when I don’t like a girl…” I was quieter than I expected to be, Eddie stepped into the room and closer to me. “If you don’t like a girl, who do you like?” He didn’t sound angry, he didn’t sound anything, his tone was so neutral that I couldn’t tell how he was gonna react to what I said. Taking a deep breath I gathered all my courage to answer him.

“You, I like you Eddie Munson, you’re the one I was singing about.” Looking up his eyes were wide and he was close to me, shit, I just fucked everything up, I should’ve have said anything. “Um, you can leave if you don’t want me to tutor you anym-” Cutting me off Eddie grabbed my face and pulled me into a kiss, I was too stunned to kiss back. He pulled away thinking he pushed a boundary only for me to put my hands around his neck and pull him into another kiss, longer and much more breathtaking. Pulling away to breathe we started into each other's eyes, his were blown wide, pupils dilated beyond anything they had been before. 

“I’m so happy that you were singing about me, I might’ve gone crazy if I didn’t get to do that soon.” He leaned down to give me a chast kiss before letting go and sitting on my bed. “So are we gonna start the tutoring session or not, I need to pass O’Donnell and I’d love to graduate with my new boyfriend.” Joining him I bumped my shoulder with his.

“Boyfriend, really?” He looked a little scared like he shouldn’t have said that. 

“I uh, o-only if you want that is.” I chuckled at his nervous behaviour before kissing him to calm down his nerves. 

“I love it.”

[weabooweedwitch]

Honestly, sometimes these things happen for the better. It wasn’t meant to be right now. February is literally right around the corner, so your friend will still have something to look forward to! You’ll be able to plan better, it won’t be rushed and the trip will be a success then.

Like I said, February is really close and sometimes these things just happen. You can still go, just not right now.

Yeah :( but I still feel like I let him down. He even told me last night that he actually bought like 4 ounces of weed for us to dig into while I was there and we had all these fun ideas 🥺 he even asked me to buy this kind of canned soup for him and bring it to him because for some reason they weren't selling it in Canada despite being a common thing and I was like literally going to take cans in my checked luggage for him and hopefully buy him gifts too

I just. I hate myself so much right now. I really needed this, he really needed this, I'm just constantly crying. Everything was finally put together and arranged and this passport was the final step and I was never even warned there were limited appointments and they won't let you even CALL for the appointment in advance until the 2 week deadline so I waited until the literal last minute like I thought I was supposed to only to be told "sorry theres nothing unless you wanna fly to arkansas" and I was literally pricing that and the money and the flights and times just never matched up

Im stupid. I should have known it was going to be booked up because of Christmas but my dumb ass thought this year would be... slower? I scheduled my hotel and flight as refundable and I have until the 30th, the day before my departure, to see if a passport appointment opens up, because if its urgent they can get it to you THAT day

I just really hate that I got confused and thought the "within 14 days" was the ONLY way I could apply. If I had applied last month when he first suggested this idea I would have it by now. Like. This is such a stupid mistake I made. There were multiple ways to apply and I got confused and some things on the website were worded weird and just 💔

Im also worried because neither I nor him know WHEN in February his break is and im afraid i will learn that information too late or work will not want to let me off for a week again OR what if the break is st rhe beginning of the month and I don't get my passport in time. and I just. I'm sad. This whole thing is my fault. He told me he was looking forward to this. I was looking forward to this. It was already all set up and RIGHT HERE IT WAS ALMOST HERE and. Poof. It's gone. My fault. Heartbreak.

So now I'm gonna keep calling the passport agency several times a day and hope someone cancels. I have this, I dunno maybe it's denial but I have this weird feeling in my heart that someone will cancel and I'll make it. The weather hasn't been good so flights have been getting canceled, people are getting sick, all of that stuff, so. Im holding on to hope. He's been really cool about everything but my heart is broken. I hate myself for this.

I just. I'm gonna keep trying but this is getting me so so sad 🥺 I wonder if calling every hour would help... what if I don't call enough and someone snags it from me though....

[angelprinz]

hello im back with more brainrot (and thank u dove anon im glad ur liking these silly little ideas huhu)

this one has been stewing in my head since yesterday:

office worker au wherein ur about to be laid off from ur current job and u begin to cry about it to ur good friend albedo. he tells u that he'll see what he can do and the next day he tells u the good news u wanted to hear, that he found u a job opening. he has the contract and everything ready and warns u that it's a well sought out job, that if u don't sign up right now, someone else will take it immediately (and poor old u will be jobless)

that makes u panic and u don't go over the contract with as much scrutiny as ur used too (if this is familiar it's because it's also highkey inspired by ur albedo fic huhu) he congratulates u for ur new job and told u to go over the office tomorrow.

u find out, the next day, that albedo snagged u a secretarial position and ur job truly is a dream job that many would want! ur boss are competent, u barely need to do anything (except for the occasional over time which u were allowed to sleep in work anyway), and ur generously paid with extra gifts as well! ur not quite sure how they found out about the sizes of ur underwear and bra but u chalk it up to coincidence.

one over time, ur bosses were swamped with work and meetings so ur forced to stay behind with them. albedo isn't there with u too, so u can't even drink some of his brews. when they finally all arrive back at the office, u stand at attention at what they need u to do.

one of them goes up to u and forces u onto their lap and their hands begin groping ur body. u don't know what to do, shocked with whatever they're doing, so u squirm a bit which leads into him smacking ur ass. the others begin to unbuckle their belts and slowly, u realize that there is more to this job than what u expect.

"so ur awake for this one? excellent. it's time to see how well u do ur job in this state, slut."

ur helpless as ur passed around and done over at the same time, until all u could do was moan and shake from their touches. the next morning, ur dynamics with them change drastically.

they would boldly smack ur ass, grope u in the elevator, make u cockwarm and suck them off all during busy hours. one time albedo even caught u in the middle of being pounded by one of them on top of their desk.

albedo knew from the beginning and was drugging u during the late hours with his brews. u slept through most of ur "true job" from before until they told albedo to finally let u know what u have been doing to finance urself.

(bosses recommendation: diluc, childe, ayato, zhongli)

- somno anon

AWWWWW being the office toy!!! all day you're helping them destress, even as they're on calls or meetings! you're their plaything so cute! does albedo ever take reader??? i hope he does, after all he introduced them to the job! kiths your cheekies anonnine, you're feeding me so much good icky stuff!

[raplinesmoon]

ISI WHAT I JUST CAME ONTO YOUR ACCOUNT TO SEE U HIT A MILESTONE ??? CONGRATULATIONS OMG U DESERVE IT AND MORE 🥳💗🤍💗 im so sorry im late 😭 (boo fi ) , BUT i do have a request if you're still doing them : ❛ either you cuddle me, or stop hogging all the blankets. ❜ + any member of hyung line (to compliment isa's ;)) if you're not still doing requests, TOTALLY okay i just wanted to make sure and wish you a congrats 🥰🖤🤝🏼

FI MY LOVE 💞💞💞 wishing you the happiest of birthdays again, and I hope you’ll enjoy this smol gift featuring Doctor!Yoongs

close call

pairing: yoongi x reader

warnings: a small mention of a medical accident, some light angst but more than enough fluff to make up for it, yoongi has a crush 🥺💞🥺

word count: 648

The door to the on-call room creaks open. Yoongi shuffles in, scrambling amongst the darkness, guided only my the faint light of the mini Christmas tree the residents had gotten to brighten up the space.

He’d just returned from the most difficult call of his life. A thirty-something patient, brought in after collapsing on the street. Scared and alone, Yoongi had no idea what to do with the incredibly sick human in front of him. Normally, he’d always consult you, his senior resident, before taking any kind of call. However, he’d passed by you earlier, curled into a quiet corner of the hospital. His heart had dropped at the way tears clung to your lashes, smiling through the sadness as you saw your family celebrating with twinkling lights, crinkly wrapping paper, and a roaring fireplace.

Returning to the on call room after the emotional moment, you’d found Yoongi, waiting there with a few boxes of Chinese takeout. The two of you ate in silence, brains fried from the lack of sleep, but appreciative of each other’s company.

You’d dozed off soon after. Yoongi didn’t have the heart to disturb you once his pager went off, smiling at the sight of your hair splayed out on the mattress and angelically parted lips.

Now, as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he lets out a deep sigh of relief, pouring out all the emotions he kept locked up the moment he threw the white coat over his shoulders. He sits next to you on the bed, feeling it dip under his weight, and reaches over to stroke a stray strand of hair from your face.

Swinging his legs over next to yours, he curls up under the blanket, praying for a few moments of peace and quiet on this holiday night.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

His eyes have barely been closed for five minutes when he hears a psst! cut through the silence. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he finds your own doe eyes on him, lids heavy with sleep.

“___? Wha-?” his voice rumbles.

“Listen Min, I’m not going to fight you. We’re both tired, but, you’ve either got to suck it up and cuddle me, or stop hogging all the blankets,” you mumble lazily, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock at your confession. He opens his mouth to respond, only to find that you’ve fallen asleep again, limbs entwined with his own.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Rays of dawn light filter through the window, and Yoongi awakens, letting out a huge yawn. Drowsily taking in the room around him, he sees you at the table, two plates of steaming food next to you.

“You survived your very first Christmas Eve on call,” you smile to him. “Come eat, I snagged some goods from the nurses’ holiday potluck.”

Plopping into the seat next to you, he blinks in confusion, accepting the plate of food and taking slow bites as you excitedly tell him about the page you’d gotten while he was asleep.

“I saw your patient again this morning,” you reach over and rest your hand on his shoulder. “He’s doing great. You did really well Yoongi, I’m proud of you.”

Blushing, he looks down at his plate, pushing the crumbs around, only to be interrupted by the sound of your chair being pushed out. You let down your hair from its bun, and reach for your coat on the back of the door.

“Well, I’m off to go celebrate with the cat,” you chuckle. “Have some fun tonight, you deserve it.”

As you open the door to leave, you hear the screech of Yoongi’s chair against the cold tile as he runs up behind you. Giggling, you watch him haphazardly throw his coat over himself, before gasping in surprise as he links your arm with his.

“I’ll walk you home,” he says shyly. “We can get coffee on our way.”

smilestone ask prompts!

[amorousadepti]

❈ flood in my heart (childe x reader)

another belated birthday fic, this time for dear rat boy (*￣▽￣)b honestly did not expect to fall so hard for this bastard but here we are!! he’s an absolute fave and im not ashamed. actually Would have gotten this one out at the right time but my internet decided to quit on me so :^) sorry 

summary: childe has plans for you on his birthday. you have plans of your own. the day takes a turn neither of you expect, but you’re not complaining (gn!reader, no pronouns or anatomy descriptions)

warnings: loosely-described fight scene, vague violence, childe being childe

length: 2.7k

The letter is delivered first thing in the morning, sitting on your tray of breakfast and propped against your steaming teacup.

You take your time before opening it. When your belly is pleasantly full with crab roe tofu and you're sipping from your third cup, you finally deign to lift the plain envelope from the tray, studying it intently. Though it bears no name, you already have an idea of the sender; you'd never admit it, but you've been anticipating this day for a while. 

Your suspicions are proved correct when you slit the envelope and find a letter written in Childe's familiar chicken-scratch scrawl. It no longer occurs to you to wonder how he knew where you were staying - by now, you know that if Childe wants to find you, he will. Munching idly on a crisp lotus flower, you consider the invitation. 

If you have no special plans, how about you swing by my place? 

Was it just wishful thinking, or was he—

You shake the thought from your head, taking another emphatic bite of lotus crisp. The day is still young. You have plenty of time to bathe, dress, and then make your way to Liuli Pavilion. 

(And if you spend just a little more time than usual on your appearance, making sure to spray the perfume he'd once impulsively bought you on each pulse point - well, that's no one's business but yours.)

"Comrade!" Comes the customary greeting once you finally wander into the Pavilion. Childe bounds up to you with a vibrant grin, sweeping you into an embrace that lifts you onto the tips of your boots. "I was hoping you would come!" 

You hum, leaning into his embrace and desperately fighting the instincts that tell you to bury your face in the crook of his neck and breathe deep in his familiar scent - saltwater and cold iron and the warm musk of his skin. You allow yourself to indulge only for a few seconds, then step back to a respectful distance (though Childe, disregarding the memo, follows and keeps an arm linked with yours.) 

"Happy birthday, Chi—"

"Ah, ah, ah!" He wags a finger at you, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. "It's my birthday, comrade - the least you can do is call me by my name, no?" 

"Happy birthday, Ajax." You squeeze his hand, his fingers moving to twine with yours. "And many happy returns." 

Childe beams at you, a faint glimmer in the usually dull blue of his eyes as he starts to pull you after him. "Now, I did say I have some plans for you—" 

"You don't want your gift first?" The way he whirls on his heel, clearly thrilled at the prospect of being lavished with gifts, is... endearing. You raise the bag in your free hand, wiggling it tantalizingly. "It comes in a few parts, actually."

"You spoil me, comrade," he simpers, unsubtly trying to swipe for your bundle of treasures and pouting when you withdraw. You roll your eyes in fond exasperation, pulling out the first part of your gift: a small white box that fits in your palm, bound with a delicate blue ribbon. 

"Open this first." You don't even need to tell him, really - he's quick to snatch the little box from your hand, though you notice he takes surprising care in untangling the ribbon. His expression softens when he holds your gift in his palm, rolling the little white whale between his fingers as he studies every intricately carved detail.

"It's made from a whale's tooth, too," you blurt, suddenly desperate to fill the silence. "It's from Inazuma - the merchant said she only had a few left, managed to snag them before the border closed. I thought of you when I saw it. Thought maybe it could be a good luck charm or something." 

"Coming from you, it has to be lucky," Childe says, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. He tucks the carving into a little pocket (just over his heart) and pats the spot where it rests gently, his smile small but honest. "Thank you. I'll take good care of this." 

You clear your throat, averting your eyes as you thrust the rest of the bag at him. "These, too."  

He peers inside, and you watch his brow furrow as he studies your prizes: an array of shackles and chaos cores and a few jars of slime concentrate to boot. The fruits of many battles, compiled over the past two months. Comprehension dawns quickly, his hands clenching into fists around the rucksack as he glances up to meet your eyes. 

"That bow of yours could use an upgrade, right? Especially if you want any chance of beating me today," you say demurely, a faint smile pulling at your lips. "Once you're done, meet me at the Golden House. But don't expect me to take it easy on you just because it's your birthday." 

The smile that curls his lips is nothing short of bloodthirsty. It makes your heart flutter. "I wouldn't dream of it, Comrade!" 

The sound of his laughter follows you through the streets, spurring you onward. Sneaking past the Millelith is easy enough - this is far from your first time, after all. Honestly, you're pretty sure none of them are willing to deal with the hassle of you and your Fatui opponent. You slip through the great door with only the faintest creak, stretching to loosen up your muscles as you amble down the sloping stairs to the center of the floor. Your favorite battlefield. 

You're still stretching casually when the hair on the back of your neck prickles, carefully honed instincts suddenly crying danger! You call your sword as you stand straight, rising just in time to bat away the Hydro arrow that would have caught you in the right shoulder. Droplets of water splatter your face, a cool spray that sets your nerves ablaze with anticipation. Your blood pumps quick as Childe steps into view, Vision glowing at his hip. 

"Oh, comrade," he sighs, almost dreamily. "You really do know just what I like!" 

His voice is drowned beneath a cacophony of water as he launches himself at you, barely giving you enough time to raise your shield before he crashes into it with a splash. Your muscles strain, a fine tremble in your limbs betraying the force of his blow. Your heart pounds with excitement, a grin twisting your lips in answer to his eager smile. 

He leaps back, dodging a slash from your dagger, and knocks you off balance with a Hydro attack to your knees that sends you staggering back. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to cook you a hearty meal after I beat you." 

"Don't get cocky, now," you huff, finding your feet. You move together in a predatory circle, each waiting for the other to strike. "You haven't beaten me yet."

"True! Which will make my victory today all the more special," he chirps, bouncing a little on his heels with glee. "Do I get another gift if I win?" 

"So greedy, Ajax," you breathe, digging your heels in as you weather another rapid onslaught of arrows. "The pleasure of my company isn't enough for you?" 

"I can think of more ways to indulge in your company, dear comrade," he purrs when your blade locks with a ridge of his bow, leaning close over your crossed weapons. His tongue, hot and quick, licks a trail across your cheekbone. 

You lash out with a sloppy swing of your blade, striking only air as the Harbinger leaps back with a gleeful cackle, twisting on his feet so he can fire another shot at you. You roll nimbly out of its path, grimacing as you scrub at your cheek with the back of your hand. 

Oh, you definitely won't be making this easy for him. 

It's impossible to tell how much time passes in the Golden House; whenever you're here with him, it's like the world reduces to only you and Childe, the clash and tangle of your bodies across the hallowed floor. It could be hours or only minutes. Whatever the case, you're both panting, dripping sweat, and sore by the time you see an opening in his guard, launching yourself towards him for the decisive blow. 

Except— 

His bow clatters to the ground, discarded from limp fingers. Childe stands still and quiet, arms hanging at his sides, and the expression on his face as he watches you charge, blade-first, is like nothing you've ever seen from him before. 

You lower your sword, your boots skidding on the floor - but not fast enough to stop your collision, and you faceplant into Childe's chest with a grunt. One arm wraps around your waist, holding you close; the other finds the wrist of your sword arm, extended carefully behind you. For a moment, it feels like an embrace, just as warm and affectionate as the one you'd shared with him earlier. 

Then he twists your arm hard enough that you cry out, your sword falling to the ground with a clang, and the next thing you know, you're flat on your back, Childe's hands encircling your wrists to pin you in place. 

The puff of each exhale fans over your lips, his narrow chest heaving as the two of you catch your breath. You test his grip and find it unyielding, strong as shackles. Childe watches you writhe beneath him with a quiet intensity that both unsettles and thrills you, something about the glint in his eyes making your heart turn over in your chest. Somehow, it feels as though you've lost much more than a friendly spar. 

"My," he chuckles finally, though his grasp on your wrists remains like iron. "I have to be honest, I wasn't sure whether you would stop!" 

You toss your head, glaring up at him without much heat. "That was a dirty trick." 

"I know," he says, releasing one arm to tenderly brush the hair away from your sweat-slick forehead. You don't take advantage of the moment of weakness. He does not apologize. That's good - you think you'd be more annoyed if he said sorry without meaning it. "But it seems that it's my win, comrade." 

You sigh through your nose, exasperated but unwilling to fight. "That it is." 

He hums quietly, still studying you with that strange look - you feel oddly naked, pinned beneath his gaze. The hand that remains around your wrist squeezes gently, gloved thumb grazing your pulse point; you try to restrain a shudder, but from the way his eyes sharpen, you doubt you succeed. 

"Now, now..." He sighs in a show of exaggerated thoughtfulness. "What should my next gift be?"  

You grumble something vaguely along the lines of not having agreed to another gift. Childe ignores you steadfastly, snapping his fingers in realization. "How about a kiss?" 

You snort, prepared to brush the request off as another bit of harmless flirting, but the look in his eyes is not one of jesting. Your mouth suddenly feels dry, and you wet your lips with your tongue before you speak again. The way his cobalt eyes flicker to watch your mouth does nothing to help your focus. "Seriously?" 

"Why not?" He says, shrugging as though he hasn't just knocked your world off-kilter. Your mouth opens, but before you can speak, you feel his fingers caress your jaw, his thumb resting on the pad of your lower lip. The leather is blessedly cool; you feel feverish in comparison. He's looking at you like he could swallow you whole, and you think you would let him. "A kiss from my most beloved comrade... now that's a gift I would really treasure."

You inhale, a ragged, gasping thing that sounds more post-coital than post-battle, and lay still beneath his hand. The thought that you have yet to actually respond fails to occur to your fogged brain - until suddenly the contact is gone, the loss of his touch echoing in your chest, and something in Childe's expression wavers before he's sitting up, a smile that doesn't reach his eyes on his lips. He's shutting himself off from you. Again.

"Ah, well, it was only a jo—mmph!"

Huh. If you'd known a kiss was all it took to stop his rambling, you might've given into your desires earlier. 

His lips are a bit chapped but pleasantly warm against yours, and his breath smells surprisingly sweet - it seems you weren't the only one indulging in Liyue's traditional snacks today. He hadn't been prepared for you to pull him down, and for a breathless moment his full weight rests upon you; there's a guilty exhilaration in feeling the length of him pressed against you, his long legs tangled with yours and strands of his hair tickling your cheeks. Your fingers knot tightly in his red scarf, holding him so close you think you can feel the pounding of his heart in your own chest. When your tongue flicks against the plush of his bottom lip, he moans sweetly, a shudder wracking his lithe frame as he opens for you, a gloved hand cupping your cheek. You taste blood in his mouth and can't tell whether it's yours or his. The thought excites you, your heart hammering as your blood grows hot. 

A strand of saliva, tinted pink with blood, connects your mouths when Childe pulls away with a ragged gasp. His lips are swollen from your kiss, a deep flush coloring his cheeks to the tips of his ears, and his eyes are wide and startled. They almost—

Shine. 

"Comrade!" Childe exclaims, reeling back on his heels. You've never seen him so... off-balanced, his hands twitching helplessly in the air. You decide you like him this way. "H-How bold of you!" 

You blink, lazily propping yourself up on your elbows. "You were the one that asked for a kiss in the first place." 

He seems to fluster even more at the reminder, hiding his mouth behind his wrist. "I didn't think you'd actually do it!" 

"Aw, Ajax," you coo. Much to your delight, the blush on Childe's cheeks grows even darker, a red glow creeping down his neck. "Is the big bad Harbinger flustered all because of a little kiss? What would Scara say if he saw you like this?"

Childe grimaces. "Don't mention him right now, please." 

You laugh, loudly, until Childe's hands clamp down on your shoulders, pinning you to the ground once again. Your breath stutters as you look up at him, finding him watching you intently; that same strange, searching look as before, but mixed with something darker. 

Hungrier. 

"You should be more careful, offering a gift like that so freely," he murmurs - a breathless purr like you've never heard before, the promise of danger in his voice making your thighs clench. One hand moves to gently nudge the band of your shirt off your shoulder, the brush of his fingers against your bared skin sending your nerves sparking. "I might want you to give me even more."

The words spill from your lips easily, without thinking. "Then take more." 

Childe stares down at you wordlessly. He's barely breathing, lashes fluttering when you reach out and catch his hand, slipping your fingers under the tight line of his glove until you can peel it off his fingers. He says your name, soft and wondering. 

"You said that this was a gift you'd treasure..." You guide him to the tie of your blouse. Unprompted, his fingers curl around the loose knot. "So make sure to take good care of me, Ajax." 

Your blouse falls open with a gentle tug, and Childe falls upon you, locking your lips in a messy kiss as his hands roam your body wildly, seeking out every scrap of bare skin he can find. You're pulled onto your knees to straddle his lap as he sits back and pulls you atop him, breaking from your mouth to trail bruising bites down the length of your throat. The force of his desire crashes down upon you like a wave, filling your lungs with only him. 

You're glad to drown. 

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe)  words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol

a/n: im certified atsumu simp now 

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie

| Chapter One |

Chapter Two

When you turn the corner to head towards the gym, Atsumu is already waiting for you. Determined to make this as convincing as possible, he slings an arm around your shoulders and you do a fantastic job of pressing yourself against his side, wrapping your own arm around his middle. You ignore the thought that he is comfortingly warm and very solid next you, reminding yourself you’re doing this for peaceful showers.

The two of you approach the gym and as if they were waiting for you, the entire team is standing at the entrance. A few of their brows raise, clearly surprised Atsumu wasn’t lying. Though some of them look suspicious, eyeing the two of you up and you prepare yourself for questions.

When you get within earshot, one of them shouts, “Wow Miya, we really thought you were lying!”

“Yeah! Why’ve you been hiding this beauty from us, huh?”

Before he can speak, for some reason you decide to take the blame, answering, “I was a little nervous to meet you all for a while.”

If Atsumu is surprised at all, he hides it, instead holding you a bit closer, his hand splaying across your opposite shoulder and gushing, “Cute, isn’t she?”

One of them who doesn’t seem convinced asks, “So how’d you meet?”

Now Atsumu takes the lead. “Funny story actually! We met in the bathroom! Her favorite shower stall is the one right next to mine, and we both like late night showers.”

You can’t help the frown that turns your lips downward. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” you admit, making the members of the team smirk a little bit. “I swear, he’d wait around for me.”

“I did not!” He pouts, and it’s beginning to look like the more suspicious members are starting to believe you.

So, you go in for the kill. “Sure, you didn’t,” you smile, reaching up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek that you don’t give yourself time to think is okay or not. That seems to stun Atsumu, which is a feat in itself, but you don’t give anyone time to think anything of it as you give them a light wave goodbye and slip out of Atsumu’s arms. “It was nice meeting you all, but shouldn’t you get to practice? I’m sure I’ll be seeing you more often now!”

They give you parting waves, some of them just as stunned as Atsumu seems to be. On your way out, you risk a glance backwards and see them surround Atsumu, one of them pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his blonde locks while they all laugh and enter the gym. Atsumu grinning the widest of them all. You aren’t sure why, but you’re smiling too. Strangely glad to have helped him out.

His teammates encircle him, clapping him on the back and congratulating him, jokingly calling him a bastard for going and snagging a girl like that. He can’t help thinking the same. You shocked him with that kiss out of the blue, enough that he probably looked more lovestruck than shocked to his teammates. He’s impressed with your commitment to this charade.

Before he disappears into the gym, Atsumu takes one last look at you heading down the path. That went perfectly. And even though he knows he shouldn’t, he thinks about that small little kiss the entire practice.

The following days are absolute hell. You have to garner the courage to tell your roommate before word gets out because the rumor that Miya Atsumu finally has a girlfriend spreads like wildfire. She’s hurt at first, but like you suspect, she forgives you after you tell her how you and Atsumu met.

She seems to think the shower story is the most adorable thing she’s ever heard as her squeals of, “So cute!!” are loud enough you swear the entire floor must hear it.

Your daily routine changes, feeling like you have to peer around every corner in fear of the fan club waiting to ambush you. But after reluctantly disclosing that to Atsumu, you notice he makes a point to walk with you whenever he can. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and once when you actually do run in to the fan club, the glare he gives them is cold enough to ice over a lake and you’re pretty sure they won’t bother you even if Atsumu is absent.

Additionally, you and Atsumu start spending a lot more time together. You eat lunch with him almost every day, sometimes joined by a few members of the team, sometimes by your roommate, other times the two of you eat alone. And you’re beginning to find those are the days you like the most. The days when the two of you can just be without feeling the pressure to pretend.

“So does your brother still play volleyball?” You ask one day, curious why if they were such a powerhouse in high school why they didn’t continue that into college.

“I always liked volleyball just a little more than him.”

“He quit?”

Atsumu shrugs, shoving another mouthful of rice into his mouth. “He went to culinary school, always had a weird place in his heart for food.”

“And that was volleyball for you?”

He stares at you, unprepared for this barrage of questions. There was this strange familiarity growing between the two of you, and the more time he spends with you alone the more he feels like he knows you. It makes it easier to pretend for everyone else, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s making it harder for him to remember this is all pretend.

Before he can reply, you continue, “If you love volleyball so much, why aren’t you playing professionally then?”

His brows lift. “And how did yer pretty little ears hear about that?”

You roll your eyes, but definitely need to shove the feeling of embarrassment down to be able to admit, “My roommate told me.”

“Curious today, aren’tcha?”

You stiffen. “Well, I should probably know these things if we’re dating,” you mumble, returning to your food trying to hide your flustered expression.

Yet again, you surprise him with your commitment to this façade. The two of you could easily sit here in silence since it’s just the two of you, but since you’ve started eating lunch together both of you have started to get to know the other more. So, he just smiles at you and admits, “Yeah, I could, but I was kinda lookin’ forward to the whole college experience, ya know?” He rests his chin in his hand, wondering if he should continue. He hasn’t really told anyone his feelings about playing professionally, and how he feels that with every day he ignores the offers the less likely he’ll be able to make the transition the longer he waits. “I’m still thinkin’ about it. The offers are still there.”

You cock your head, and he refuses to look at you, feeling like you have a gift for seeing straight through him. “Is college that great?”

Now he laughs, and in an attempt to bring this conversation back to lighter waters he wraps an arm around you and smothers you against his chest teasing, “Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’ta met you!”

You roll your eyes and tell yourself that for the sake of the charade you let yourself sink into his embrace. When he releases you, you stick your tongue out at him. “I know you purposefully changed the subject, but I’ll let it slide. Consider yourself lucky.”

He puts his hands together in a fake prayer. “I’ll forever remember the kindness,” he says dramatically.

To which you scoff, “I highly doubt that.”

~

You study together when he’s available, but usually volleyball takes precedence over studying most nights. Sometimes he joins you in the library late at night, finding you in your favorite corner, plopping down beside you, blonde hair damp from the quick shower he took and distracting you from schoolwork with how practice went that day.

Already a few weeks in to your agreement, one night the two of you are in the library rather late, Atsumu’s practice ended late and he has a paper due in the morning that he’s desperate to finish. For the first hour, he’s chatty, unable to focus on what he needs to get done, despite constant reminders from you and promises that you’ll go get ice cream from the dining hall when he finishes.

The next hour, he seems to get in the zone, typing furiously away on his computer. Honestly, he isn’t sure if what he’s writing is even good but at this point, he doesn’t care, it just needs to get done.

But after his stint of concentration, you’re suddenly struck by the realization that he’s been silent beside you for a few minutes now. No sound of typing or conversation, and it goes on long enough that you become concerned. Looking over, you find him slumped over in his chair, head on his keyboard, fast asleep.

You fight the urge to laugh at him. Taking only a few selfish moments to marvel over his face, his usual smirking expression replaced by his eyes softly closed and his mouth slightly open. He sighs a deep breath before subconsciously stretching his arms out across the table and you get a nice view of his biceps flexing beneath his black shirt.

It’s then you become aware that you’ve been staring at him way too long and shake him awake.

His eyes flutter open, and upon seeing you, that once infuriating smirk he likes to wear rises to his lips. “Who woulda thought I’d be wakin’ up to a pretty girl lookin’ at me like that,” he drawls, knowing exactly how to fluster you.

You shake your head, laughing and packing up your things. “Come on big baby, it’s bedtime.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, picking his head up and promptly stuffing his things away in his bag. You decide to ignore what his soft, sleepy voice is doing to your heart rate and instead focus on how he’s putting his things away. That backfires on you, as you start thinking about how long and deft his fingers are and you have to physically look away from him to stop your mind going in that direction.

The two of you leave the library, walking quietly back to your dorm building, you aren’t expecting his hand to slip into yours; those long fingers you were just trying to get out of your head intertwining with yours. You look up at him confusedly and without looking at you, he brushes it off, “Just in case.”

You press your lips into a firm line, replying, “Right.”

He won’t dare admit he did that subconsciously. He just reached out for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, only realizing his mistake from the confused expression you gave him. He internalizes his sigh of relief that he can pass it off as keeping up your fake relationship and you seem none the wiser.

When you make it up to your floor, at the point in the hallway where you need to split ways, despite nobody being around that you need to fake for, you press a light kiss to his cheek and say, “Goodnight Atsumu.”

You’re gone before he can get a reply in.

~

You start coming to his games more often, dragging your roommate along (though she doesn’t mind one bit) and do your best to ignore just how good he looks playing volleyball. It doesn’t help that your roommate keeps commenting things like, “god you are so lucky,” and “just look at him!”

You are looking at him. And it pisses you off that she’s right. He’s annoyingly god-like, and you find yourself staring at his biceps and thighs a lot more than is necessary. Your heart fluttering traitorously whenever he grins when he makes a successful play. Even when he raises his fist to silence the crowd when he serves, which before you thought was utterly ridiculous—you now find yourself holding your breath as goosebumps spread across your skin.

He denies to himself just how much he loves seeing you in the stands. Unable to stop the feeling that swells in his chest with the way you look at him. With the fan club, he knows all they see is the surface. He’s cocky enough to know he’s good-looking (and if he didn’t think so, the fan club certainly feels otherwise). But with you—you look like you want to devour him. He doesn’t know if you are aware of it or not, but you watch him with predatory intent in a way he can’t explain that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

At some point, he has to admit it. He fucking loves it.

One particularly memorable game, he swears you never take your eyes off him. And he feels like he’s at the top of his game, like nothing can go wrong for him. He’s so full of adrenaline and excitement afterwards that when he finds you in the hallway, he sweeps you up into an enormous hug. Your laughter filling the air and god—he loves your laugh; he could listen to it forever.

You don’t even care how sweaty he is or really if anyone is watching. Your instinct is to wrap your arms around him and squeeze him back, your ego inflating from the glares you can feel boring into your back from the fan club. And it’s easy—far too easy to forget that all of this is fake.

Especially when he pulls away only to plant a kiss right on your mouth, his body too full of adrenaline to truly realize what he’s doing.

And instead of pushing him away, you selfishly pull him closer, fingers laced behind his neck and body slotting against him so perfectly he has to resist the urge to groan. He cradles your head, drawing out the kiss for as long as he can consider appropriate, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just confess to you.

Instead, he lets you go, both of you chalking it up to the adrenaline and the charade. Both secretly knowing it was more than that to both of you.

And you don’t speak of it again, continuing with your sham relationship like nothing has changed.

But a lot of things have changed. It’s been almost 2 months since this started, well past the time needed to convince his teammates this is real. Some part of him refuses to bring it up, unwilling to let you go and wanting to drag this on for as long as possible.  

Despite knowing that this will all have to come to an end eventually.

~

“You gotta be there!” He pouts, doing a wonderful job of obscuring your view of the notebook on the table in front of you. “There’s no way my girlfriend would miss it!”

You groan, head resting on the chair behind you. Atsumu has been trying to convince you for the better part of the hour to come to the party the volleyball team is throwing this weekend. No matter how many times you’ve expressed your disinterest, he’s relentless.

He wiggles his brows. “I’ll throw in an invitation for your roommate too,” he says, knowing full well your roommate will be a pain in your side if she finds out you got invited to this party and refrained from taking her with.

Now you sigh, annoyed that he knows you well enough to sweeten the deal like that. And it isn’t the party that is deterring you, it’s a certain blonde-haired volleyball setter that you’ve been getting far too close to lately that’s making you hesitate. Something about the atmosphere of a party and a little alcohol in both of your systems makes you uneasy. And not in a bad way.

“You promise not to ditch me?” You pout, faking the reason you don’t want to attend.

He crosses over his heart. “I swear it. And besides, I’d be crazy to let ya wander around by yerself.” He gives you a quick wink, then a kiss to your cheek and he’s off to practice, shouting over his shoulder that the party starts at nine.

Your roommate is over the moon at the invitation, insisting you can’t possibly show up right at nine. So, you and she show up fashionably late around ten. Within a few moments, Atsumu finds you and gathers you up into his arms, whispering in your ear, “You’re late, where ya been?”

You smirk. “Roommate insisted on being fashionably late.”

He just chuckles, low in his throat and directly beside your ear—a sound that makes your toes involuntarily curl in your shoes. God, if you’re already curling your toes at the sound of just his voice you’re in for a long night. After releasing you, he easily greets your roommate and takes the two of you to the kitchen where cans of various alcohols are waiting.

You swear your roommate is going to combust with joy, taking a can for herself then happily heading off towards the dance floor. You’re glad she’s pretty independent as you can already feel you’re going to be glued to Atsumu’s side the entire night. You eye the drinks, sigh, and take one for yourself. If this night’s going to be long, might as well enjoy it.

He just watches you, amused, and unable to stop himself from thinking about how good you fucking look tonight. He wanted you to be here not to keep up the act of your relationship but because he actually wants to spend time with you. Lately, it’s the highlight of most of his days, and sue him if he wants to have a little fun.

Setting an arm on your shoulder, he first parades you around the party, letting everyone see just who he’s ‘dating’ and feeling his ego boost from the looks of jealousy he garners from a few people. The teammates who have eaten lunch with you a few times are happy to see you, indulging you in a bit of chit chat and helping loosen you up.

You might’ve been embarrassed to be on Atsumu’s arm had it not felt so damn great to be met with looks of jealousy from guys and girls alike, and it was doing wonders for your self-confidence. Enough that you tap him on the arm and ask to be taken back to the kitchen for another drink. He graciously obliges you, and once both of you have another can in hand, he finds somewhere for you two to sit.

It doesn’t even occur to you how easy it is to curl up beside him, his arm around you on the back of the couch, hand resting on your opposite shoulder while the two of you observe the party in full swing.

“You guys really know how to throw a party,” you comment, nodding to the room that was completely cleared out to make room for a dance floor.

“What’s that?” He teases. “I thought you didn’t want to come!”

Poking him in the side and refusing to look up at him, you admit, “I changed my mind.”

You know you’ve dug yourself a nice little hole when he continues, “Are my ears deceiving me? Are you admitting you were wrong?”

“Spare me,” you beg, a grin on your lips nonetheless. It’s then you spot your roommate out on the dance floor, her eyes connecting with yours long enough that she starts beckoning you towards her. “Oh god,” you groan.

She doesn’t stop though, instead abandoning the dance floor and approaching you and Atsumu. “Excuse me sir, but I’m gunna have to steal her for a dance or two.”

Subconsciously you cling to Atsumu, jerking your eyes up to him as he smiles easily saying, “Of course.” Taking your arm, she pulls you up from the couch and out of Atsumu’s arms, dragging you towards the dance floor while you look back at him with a pleading expression. He only waves idly back at you, that infuriating smirk splaying across his lips.

Worming her way into the throng of bodies, she puts her hands on your hips forcing you to sway them along to the music, laughing and encouraging you to ‘let go!!’. Eventually, there’s no resisting the thumping music or the movement of bodies around you, and soon your laughter is mixing with hers as the two of you dance ridiculously with one another.

Atsumu watches from the couch, utterly entranced at your change in behavior. He’s unable to look at anyone else but you, like the rest of the party falls away and its just you on that dancefloor swaying your hips under the flashing lights. He hardly knows what to do with himself as you laugh alongside your roommate, unaware he’s watching you.

At some point, you remember the boy you came here for, and fight your way to the edge of the crowd to catch sight of him. He’s where you left him, sitting on a couch a room away, an ankle crossed over his knee, still drinking his beer and looking unbothered by your absence. You look at him a moment, sitting there in his fitted black tee and dark jeans, so casually good-looking it isn’t fair.

His dark eyes meet yours and there’s something in them that sends goosebumps prickling across your skin. You’re barely even tipsy but there must be something stirring your boldness, otherwise you would have never lifted a hand and beckoned him towards you.

He’s pinned to his seat for a moment when you motion him to join you on the dancefloor. He has an uncanny suspicion that something is going to happen out there, under the safety of the pulsing lights and hidden by the mass of bodies. But some part of him wants that, whispering that it’s all he wants. So, he rises, setting his can on a nearby table and strides out to meet you.

A fire lights in your stomach as he stops in front of you, and now that he’s here you are quite sure what to do with yourself. “You looked bored,” you lie.

“Well, my date ditched me,” he remarks. “But I like her, so I’ll let it slide.”

Your answering smile is enough to send him through the roof. And soon, you’re engulfed by the surging crowd, getting sucked into the middle of the floor, a sense of reality slipping out from beneath the two of you. His hands at your waist, your body pressed up against his, his forehead resting on yours—he’s desperate to close the gap between the two of you. Dying to kiss you, to feel your lips mold to his, fingers lacing in his hair—he wonders what kind of sounds he could elicit from you, sounds just for him, sounds that would get lost in the thumping beat.

His better sense tells him to resist. Knowing that even though you’ve kissed before, this one would be different. It’s just the two of you, free from the pressure of pretending, he wouldn’t be able to pass it off as an act. And even if he could, he isn’t sure he wants to.

All the while, you’re watching him, wondering if he’s going to take the leap. Part of you urging him to. Pathetically wanting him to smother you in his arms and the two of you can just ignore it all tomorrow. It’s seemingly what you do best.

He doesn’t though, allowing him to just enjoy this moment—your proximity, warm breath mingling with his, arms resting on his broad shoulders as the crowd undulates around you. To him, there’s nothing else around, just you and your body fitting perfectly to his, back curved to press closer to him—he’s pitifully so lost in the way you’re moving those hips making him move along with you.

He’s grateful that if you notice him struggling to keep his composure, you don’t say anything. But when he glances at your face, you’re blissfully unaware of his plight, eyes closed murmuring along to the music and relishing the moment in your own way. Your thoughts dominated by how warm he is, how solid he feels, how his hands are resting on your back.

And the two of you stay like that, until you’re broken from your reverie by one of his teammates whistling loudly at the two of you, eyebrows wiggling suggestively that Atsumu just huffs a breath out at.

“I think I need another drink,” you say, pulling away from him.

His arms feel empty now, the clamor of the party destroying the quiet and intimate bubble the two of you had created. But instead of doing anything about it, he just gives you a winning smile—one he feels is half-assed, replying, “Ditto.”

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold. 

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back. 

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire. 

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound. 

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay. 

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but  stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override. 

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried. 

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him. 

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Nathalie’s Gift Part 1

She sat up in the middle of the night.

She took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She knew it was late, likely an hour or two away from sunrise.

She examined her surroundings until she saw him. There he was, sleeping in the chair at the end of the room. Gabriel Agreste, her boss, her ally, and the one she had fallen for, was asleep in a chair several feet away.

Ever since the defeat of the guardian and the plan to use Chloé to get the miraculous, she had been far too weak to be as mobile as she was in the past. Gabriel had set her up in his quarters, despite the mansion having dozens of rooms. He had reasoned that Adrien would never walk into his room without permission, so that it would never become apparent how her condition was deteriorating.

His logic wasn't entirely unfounded. She was constantly teetering towards the brink. Overuse of the once broken peacock miraculous has left her bedridden most days. Despite the miraculous no longer having such a negative effect now, she knew the damage was already done. 

Yet he hasn't discarded her, was it out of loyalty that he felt the need to care for her despite being more of a burden? Did he perhaps start to feel something more for her as this whole debacle went on.

The later of which was unlikely, she knew better than anyone that Gabriel was far too loyal to his wife to entertain such a notion. So long as he believed there was a chance of bringing her back, he wont stop. She could never be Emilie Agreste, the love of his life and mother of Adrien. She was Nathalie Sancoeur, trusted assistant, and partner in crime. 

She forced herself out of bed. Moving quietly as to not awaken the sleeping mogul.

She snagged her tablet, and the peacock miraculous that was next to it.

She moved to the office and sat in the office chair. Perhaps she could get some work done while she was awake. And should she feel the need to speak to someone, the blue bird Kwami would be a fitting companion.

She started looking through work but her mind kept wandering to one thought

So long as Emilie could be brought back, he could never love me. I could never replace her.

She coughed.

“Not that it matters, I am on borrowed time as it is.” She commented to herself.

She stopped herself as she let her own comment sink in.

She was on borrowed time.

With how she was now, how much time did she have, a few months? A year? Maybe a decade if she really tried to take care of herself. But it wasn't like she was sick with a normal illness. But would Gabriel be able to get the miraculous? Even with everything they had, Ladybug and Chat noir always seemed to best them at every turn. At the rate things were going, she would likely end up in a glass coffin as well, and if Gabriel fails...

In that moment of worry. An idea that could fix everything slipped into her brain.

It was a long shot sure, there was a possibility that everything will backfire. But she needed to do it.

She exited out of her work and went into the security feed using her tablet. She disabled the secret camera hidden in the lair below.

She started making a few preparations.

_______________________________________________________________________

Gabriel awoke to his phone’s sudden vibrating.

He quickly shook himself and looked at his phone.

“The alarm was tripped. Someone damaged Emilie’s chamber!”

The fashion mogul rushed out of the room. His thoughts were firing through his brain a mile a minute.

Who found the lair? Was it one of the heroes? A spy? Who would dare desecrate my beloved wife’s container?

The fashion mogul made his way to the secret elevator.

A purple Kwami emerged from the pocket of the rushing fashion designer.

“Is something wrong master?”

“It appears there is an intruder in the secret sanctum.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Im going to show them the error of their ways. Nooru, Dark wings rise.”

Gabriel transformed into the villainous hawkmoth, His face covered by a silver mask, and is candy cane color scheme replaced with a purple suit. 

He was armed and ready to fight should. 

As the elevator reaches the bottom. Hawkmoth dashes out as soon as it opens.

He would strike quick, and take care of the intruder before they realized who they were facing.

As he approached, he stopped dead in his tracks. As he noticed someone standing infront of the Glass container.

“Hello?” The figure called out. Her voice having a familiar tone that caught the butterfly villain off guard.

As his rage diminished, he felt his vision clear and noticed the shattered glass on the floor, along with the glass container that was now broken.

“It... It can't be...” Hawkmoth’s words escaped as he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Can you tell me where I am? I woke up in this... thing over hear. Im not entirely sure what’s going on.”

“Emilie... is that you?” Hawkmoth questioned, unsure if this was a dream, or if by some miracle the love of his life was indeed back from the abyss.

“How do you know my name Mr. Masked man?”

“Nooru, dark wings fall.”

The blond woman watched as the costumed stranger revealed himself.

“Gabriel? Is that you?”

A tear spilled from his eyes as he rushed to her. 

“You're here. How is... How is this possible?”

“I... I dont...” She started to stumble as she walked towards him. Her vision was starting to fade and the world was spinning.  

Gabriel quickly moved to catch her as she suddenly fell.

He felt his heart panic, but he could hear her breathing. She was simply sleeping.

“Perhaps it would be best to take her out of her.”

Gabriel walked to the elevator, his wife in his arms, asleep yet very alive. 

His mind had 1000 questions, but in this moment, he didn't care. He was holding the woman he loved in his arms again, and thats all that mattered.

___________________________________________________________________

“Gabriel!” She cried out as she woke up.

Sunlight was beaming from the window, it was clear it had been bright out for sometime.

She felt sheets underneath her. What she expected was a hard floor in a weird sanctum but now she felt the comfort of a room that felt familiar.

She heard the door open and looked to see her husband carrying a tray.

“Oh good, you're awake.” He spoke with soft relief.

She looked at the tray.

“Are those.”

“Lemon tea cookies. Your favorite.”

She smiled at him as he brought the tray to her bedside. Allowing her to snag a bite of one of them.

“So good!” She said as she finished her first cookie. “I feel like I haven't eaten in years!”

Gabriel’s expression faltered. She could see the pained expression as she said that.

“Gabriel... how long was I gone?” Her question verbally stabbed him.

He took a moment to process the curious expression on his wife’s face as she continued eating the tray of treats.

He looked down at his hands.

“A year and 6 months.”

She gulped down her cookie hard at the revelation.

“Wow... I've been gone for so long... Adrien must be taller then... ADRIEN!”

Emilie grabbed her husband by the collar.

“Where is Adrien?!”

“He’s at school” Gabriel answered.

Emilie blinked.

“School? You mean he is no longer being homeschooled?”

“He still has some lessons, but he was insistent on trying to go to school like other children his age. It was more ideal for him to go out than for him to be stuck here most hours of the day.”

Emilie processed that information.

“I see, I am surprised you said yes. You always said you hated public schooling.”

“I still believe the school systems are... inferior, but Adrien’s grades haven't faltered according to Nathalie. So I don't bother intervening.”

“My boy has grown up so much since Ive been gone. Wait, is he dating yet? Please tell me I didn’t miss his first crush!”

“Emilie, I am sure that you didnt miss anything. You and Adrien can catch up once you are rested and he is back from school.”

Emilie took a deep breathe.

“Okay, You're right. It will be nice to hear everything from him.”

She looked around the room a bit and noticed the vase full of roses.

“Oh, fresh roses. Gabe-y you cheesy romantic.”

Gabriel felt his cheeks go pink.

“It was... the room needed some color in it.”

“Much like those red pants you insist on wearing.”

“They are fashionable.”

“If you were in charge of candyland perhaps.”

Emilie loved to tease him about is fashion calls.

“Who is the fashion designer here?” He said with a mock stern tone.

“Speaking of fashion, that costume that you were wearing. That didn’t look like the peacock miraculous.”

Gabriel’s tone shifted to genuinely serious. He figured the time would come to answer that question.

“It is the butterfly miraculous. After your...departure. Nathalie and I investigated the temple where you and I had found the peacock miraculous. We discovered a new miraculous, one that wasn't damaged.”

Gabriel felt a twinge mentioning Nathalie. When he had rushed to bring Emilie up here, he felt guilt and relief that his assistant wasn't in the bed. He would have quite a difficult time explaining that one, even if nothing happened.

“So with that miraculous you were trying to find a way to bring me back.”

“It was a means to an end.”

Emilie processed the information she was told.

“Gabriel, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“No more miraculous. None.”

Gabriel blinked.

“But...”

“Those jewels are nothing but trouble. It has only caused our family suffering and pain.”

Gabriel was surprised by the claim, but he knew she was correct. The miraculous have been quite the curse on the family, despite the powers they gave.

“It will take time for me to stop using it outright, there is a... situation with how I’ve been using it. Your sudden appearance and the disappearance of Hawkmoth might be suspicious.”

Emilie looked at Gabriel intensely.

“Hawkmoth? Gabriel what did you do?”

“Well... in order to try an bring you back, the butterfly miraculous wasn't going to be able to accomplish that goal. So the only way I could bring you back with certainty was to attain the ladybug and Cat miraculous.”

The former actress listened as her husband explained how he became a super villain for the sake of getting the jewels.

“Unbelievable.”

“I admit, explaining it makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is. I planned to fix any damage caused once I got the jewels”

“And what if people found out your identity!? You would have been thrown in prison and left our son an Orphan!” Emilie pointed her finger in his chest.

“It was the only way I could think of to attain the miraculous. How else would I have been able to confirm the miraculous were in Paris?”

Emilie was ready to let him have it. But she felt herself calm down. She had to admit, in a weird way, it was quite romantic. Something out of a tragic romance novel.

“I should be angrier with you, but I know if the situation was reversed and I had a way of bringing you back, I would have likely tried the same thing, albeit in a smarter way.”

Gabriel felt a bit of relief seeing his wife not so cross with him.

“So we figure out how to orchestrate your ‘Defeat’ and then we say good bye to the miraculous for good.”

“We will plan it out when you are completely better. Though this does raise the question. How are you back?”

Emilie pauses, she tries to think back.

Protect the Agreste family... no matter what.

She heard that phrase echoing in her head. But she couldn't figure out why. Who said that to her. Why is everything so fuzzy?

“I don't know... I remember hearing glass shatter, and a flash of blue. But the next thing I remember was... seeing you.

Gabriel looks at her, he could tell from her eyes she was telling the truth.

“I will look into that later. In the meantime, you should rest. I will check on you in a few hours.”

He moves the empty tray from the bed.

“Wait.”

Gabriel stopped.

“Get Adrien here. I want to see him now.”

“Dear, he is in school. It will dismiss in a few hours. Besides you should rest.”

Emilie got up from the bed.

“Nonsense. Ive been resting long enough. I am sure Adrien can miss a few hours of school. I want to see my baby boy.”

Gabriel wanted to find some way to dismiss her request, but he knew he couldn't say no to her. She was far to headstrong and determined... and man did he miss her.

“Okay, I will have his driver go an pick him up.”

“You aren't going to pick him up yourself?”

“Emilie I have work to do. Besides that is why we have...”

“You can take some time off to bond with your son. Seriously, you need to stop putting up walls Gabe-y.”

Gabriel took a calming breath to compose himself.

“Very well. But do use this time to rest.”

She moves to kiss her husband.

“I promise.”

Gabriel’s expression turned into a soft smile.

“I will be back with our son shortly.”

Gabriel left the room to go pick up Adrien.

Emilie smiled as she moved to vase of roses. She picked on up and sniffed it.

The rose in her hand began wilting and shriveled up.

She looked in the mirror.

“Everything went perfectly.”

______________________________________________________________________

End of part one

(Should I continue? Let me know your thoughts)

[joddit-y]

Pinky and the brain are 100% married and anyone who says otherwise has never watched the show. Imagine the chaos if the animaniacs made them a surprise wedding!

IM HIJACKING THIS ASK SO I CAN DUMP MARRIAGE HCS ON Y'ALL BUCKLE UP

We can pretty much just assume from all the hints in the show that they're in some kind of relationship. Everything I've picked up on makes me think that they've basically been dating and are practically married for most of the show, they just don't talk about it much. Part of the reason for that might be that Brain doesn't know how to Emotions, and acknowledging they exist is scary. But i think the main reason is just, neither of them have really thought about it? Like they're just completely secure in their relationship, and never even considered questioning it, it's just how things are and that's natural for them. So why would they need to worry about labels?

Well eventually, during one of their schemes, Pinky has to learn about weddings. He used to think they were just like adult birthday parties or sm but now that he knows what it means, he loves it. Now pinky is usually more comfortable with the smaller, more private lovey moments, but an entire event dedicated to just celebrating love? Yeah he thinks that's beautiful.

So pinky starts thinking about marriage, and then he goes "but brain by that logic, doesn't that mean that we're married?"

And brain just kinda strokes out at that point bc he has no idea what to do with t h a t, especially because the more he considers it the more right it sounds.

So for their rings, Brain obviously couldn't go to a jeweler, so he wanted to make them himself. He originally starts planning out these super complex, multi functional rings for the both of them, but then realizes that their relationship has consisted almost entirely of small gestures. Cuddling at night when ACME doesn't pay their heating bill, pinky learning how to cook for them, infinite support for each other, brain upgrading their cage whenever the scientists won't notice.

So he rethinks it. Not that Pinky wouldn't appreciate a fancy ring, he just wants to keep the commemoration of their relationship true to the thing.

Then he scraps the idea of rings entirely.

Instead, he snags both of their metal ear tags labelling them as property of ACME, files them down to remove the letter engraving, then recasts them in gold.

So when he proposes officially, it's a gift to the both of them. The gift of solidifying their love, of freeing themselves from ACME. To them it means they belong to no one except themselves and each other. and when they take over the world together, as life partners, they'll always have that piece of their history with them that they have altered to make beautiful.

[winterscaptain]

transfer request. part four.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

a/n: part four is finally here! i am working on part five, and have a special treat with that one. i am so excited to continue this story with you all :) i’ve also decided that jack is short for jonathan because i simply cant imagine they just named him jack flat out and im not sure his name is john either so i made an executive decision lmao  rating/words: teen / 1600 no warnings apply!

another disclaimer because people Have Questions - i have made jack short for jonathan because of a friend friend i had growing up who was a jonathan who went by jack :)

AO3 | Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

The wedding approached faster than anyone thought possible.

The deep, cleansing breath Y/N takes as she stands at the top of Dave’s gorgeous staircase certainly doesn’t feel all that deep or all that cleansing. She holds tight to Derek’s arm like a lifeline, gripping the fabric of his black button-up.

Jack is a few steps in front of her, carrying the rings. He looks up at her, and she winks at him, trying to hide her nerves

“You okay, sweetness?” Derek pats her hand where it rests in the crook of his elbow.

She nods briskly, smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. It’s a stunning garment – heavy silk hangs off her shoulders in layers down to the floor. It frames her figure perfectly – she is only five or so months along, but there is definitely a pronounced swell that hadn’t been there a few weeks prior.

“Just a little nervous Aaron won’t be there when I get down there.”

Derek snorts. “He’ll be there. He can’t outrun me and wouldn’t try.”

She smiles and kisses Derek’s cheek.

+++

In the backyard, Aaron leaned against one of the pillars framing the porch, his hands in his pockets.

“You’re better off than me, Hotch.” Will takes a sip of his beer, standing at Aaron’s side. “When JJ and I got married down here, I wasn’t sure she was gonna come back down the stairs.”

Hotch chuckles. “She’ll come down eventually, just like JJ. Of that I am certain.” He looks over at JJ, sitting beside Spencer with Henry in her lap. She looks up and grins at Hotch, giving him a thumbs up. He smiles back at her.

Dave walks over to Emily and hands her a glass of wine. “How lucky we are to be among family.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Dave, now is not the time for a sermon.”

“No, it’s not,” Dave replies, pointing at Aaron with his cigar. “I’m saving it for dinner so I don’t steal Penelope’s thunder.”

Garcia, under the arch with her script in-hand, winks at him.

+++

Jack steps up the stairs and takes Y/N’s other hand. “Are you ready?” He asks.

She nods, leaning down to kiss the top his head. “Yeah, love. I’m ready.” She looks at Derek, who looks back at her with a gentleness in his eyes. “Please don’t let me fall.”

He kisses her forehead. “Never, never, never.”

There are lots of kisses going around, but it’s just one of those days.

Derek pulls her close. Jack’s hand rests in hers as they slowly descend the stairs.

When Aaron comes into view, under the canopy of lights and surrounded by their family, tears spring into Y/N’s eyes. She swallows, and Derek holds her tighter. Jack still holds onto her hand, the rings locked in his other fist.

Aaron’s face breaks out into a smile, and they’re both grinning at each other like idiots by the time the four of them are standing together.

Derek kisses her cheek and places her hand in Aaron’s. Derek steps back behind Dave, taking Jack with him and keeping a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Penelope begins then, welcoming their family to “this ridiculously exciting and long-overdue event.”

Y/N and Aaron can only smile at each other until it’s time for them to read their lines.

 “...in sickness and in health.”

“...for richer or for poorer.”

“...in the field and at home.”

“I do.”

“I do.”

Penelope nods at Y/N, and she beckons Jack forward. Jack hands the rings up to Derek, who drops them safely in his pocket.

When Jack reaches the space between her and Aaron, she drops to one knee, holding her hands out. He places his hands in hers, and she grips them tight.

His brown eyes look into hers, and it's like they’re looking through each other rather than at each other. She knows she’ll never take those eyes for granted – whether in the face of her stepson, her husband, or any other children they have.

“Jonathan Hotchner, I may not have given you the gift of life, but life sure did give me the gift of you.” When he smiles, some tears escape Y/N’s eyes, falling onto the ground at her feet. She only halfway processes Aaron’s hand coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder as she continues. “I promise to be by your side through all your triumphs and sorrows. I can’t promise I’ll always do the right thing or say the right thing, but I can promise to love you with all my heart, every day, forever.”

Her vows to Jack were short, but they’d taken her forever to write. She’d spent hours sitting at Aaron’s desk in the new den, pen in her hand, lit only by the warm yellow desk lamp.

“What are you working on in here?” Aaron came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“It’s a secret.” Nevertheless, she made no attempt to cover her project, and she waited as he skimmed through her scribbles and revisions. Three sentences. I need to give my stepson better than three sentences. What else was there to say to the most important child in her life?

“Are you writing vows for Jack?”

Y/N nodded and twisted in her chair. “I won’t do it if you think it's dumb or –“

She was interrupted by a firm, almost desperate, kiss. “It’s a great idea. He’ll love it.”

Jack jumps into her arms and Aaron snags her arm as she’s thrown off balance. White dress be damned, she sits on the cold stone of the patio with Jack more than halfway in her lap.

“I’m glad you’re my momma.” He says it so quietly she almost missed it.

“What should Jack call me after we’re married? I’m not sure I want him to call me by my first name anymore, but I also don’t think I should be Mom, for Haley’s sake.”

Aaron sighed, tightening his arms around her. It’s nearly midnight, and the darkness is like a blanket cast over the bedroom. Aaron’s such a finicky sleeper – requiring total darkness – that with the curtains drawn, she could barely see him.  “You are and will be the closest thing he has to a mother. Don’t worry about replacing Haley. Do you have any preliminary ideas?”

“I’m thinking momma, or even something in another language. In Hebrew, mother is Ima, or the Polish Matka, that kind of thing.”

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I really like momma for you.”

She shifts to kiss his bare shoulder. It’s a silent thanks.

Aaron’s crying now, as is Dave, JJ, and Penelope. Derek is barely keeping it together, and Emily passes tissues with one hand while the other is wrapped in Spencer’s. They’re all together, safe and sound.

Y/N is openly weeping, one hand stroking Jack’s hair and the other rubbing back and forth between his shoulder blades.

“I love you so much, baby. So so much.”

She looks up over Jack’s shoulder to Aaron, who offers her a hand. She takes it and rises, keeping a hand on Jack. Both she and Aaron take a big breath and wipe their eyes.

Derek passes the rings to Aaron, who passes them to Jack.

Jack slips one of the rings on his father’s finger – a simple silver band with four small diamonds. Aaron presses a kiss to his son’s head and turns him gently by the shoulders to face Y/N once more.

When she holds her hand out, Jack slips the silver ring and twists it so it locks in with her engagement ring. Together, the rings create an intertwined diamond setting. The insides of the bands have all of their initials in raised letters on it, designed to leave an indent in the skin whenever the ring is removed. They designed the rings as a family, making it all the more special.

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Virginia, and the internet, I now pronounce you married!” Penelope bounces on her toes and grins.

Aaron raises an eyebrow at her, and she laughs.

“Oh my god just kiss her already.”

Aaron takes Y/N’s face between his hands and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips. Their family whoops and hollers around them. His hands fall to her abdomen and rest protectively around her. When they part, they press their foreheads together, eyes closed. She brings Jack close to her and they stand there as a unit for a moment, basking in the joy of the moment.

+++

Their first dance as a couple is slow and quiet. They hardly move, just shifting back and forth together, only loosely connected to the music. Pair by pair, their family joins them on the dance floor as the songs change.

Derek and Penelope are first, all at once playful and intimate. JJ and Spencer are next, but only after they hang Henry and Jack’s blazers over a chair and situate them with a soccer ball on the grass. Will abstains from the dancing for now, playing goalkeeper to Jack’s forward.

Emily and Dave join in once their wine glasses are empty. Everyone is flush with alcohol or joy or both.

Y/N has one arm looped around Aaron’s shoulder and the other wrapped in his hand over his heart. He quietly sings along to the music, his cheek pressed to her temple. She looks up and him and kisses him softly. His lips trail to the sensitive spot behind her ear and his warm breath makes her voice catch in her throat.

“I love you.”

She feels his smile against her skin. “I know.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics​ @quillvine​ @stxrryspencer​ @agenthotchner​ @hurricanejjareau​ @fics-ilike​ @octothorpetopus​ @ange-must-die​ @ughitsbaby​ @rousethemouse​ @criminalsmarts​ @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal​ @icantswimhalp​ @genevievedarcygranger​ @ssaic-jareau​ @good-heavens-chris-evans 

[5lazarus]

There Is No Ithaca, Ch. 2

from the wonderful promptlist @brightoncemore created, answering a prompt @because-im-hap-hap​ sent me. There Is No Ithaca: Solas wrecks his revolution on the altar of Mythal. Ch. 2: there is a traitor within you whose time for punishment will come Summary: Solas returns from war to find Ghilan’nain incubating the Blight within their own home. Content Warnings: Psychological Horror, Body Horror, Abusive Relationships. Remember the codex of Ghilan’nain’s ascension? The hunter blinds her, and Andruil revives her and makes her a god. This is the story behind the myth, or at least one version of it. Read on AO3 here. Find Ch. 1: if one of us has sinned it must be God here.

The shiver of her flesh as he steps into her arms and she pulls him down intoxicates him. They enjoy working together, and they enjoy lounging in her rooms afterward. Ghilan’nain is the First amongst the People, occupying a similar place of honor he had left, and she has enough political support from the Evanuris to step forward and become one of them. He likes the sharpness of her mind and the purity of her aesthete. Their partnership is useful to both of them, and he enjoys the side-benefits.

Mythal has them marry, as a precursor to declaring her new title. Neither of them have any reason to object, and Fen’Harel loves her. He craves her on the field, returning to the barracks to mop the gore up. He can imagine her cool smile regarding him. She does like the smell of blood. Whose? His, perhaps: and the danger quickens his pulse. Solas well knows there are others. He has never claimed anyone’s full loyalty, and would not ask that of her. He does not want it. Ghilan’nain’s devotion is terrible, and he is glad to weaken her hold. He loves her, so he is happy to let her go. “So you tell yourself,” Felassan says. “Yet you haven’t been home twice since you’ve married. While Andruil has stayed there for the entirety of our last campaign.” Solas makes a face. “She leaves when I return, and that is all I ask. That we dispel the rumors that we are in any entwined. Ghilan’nain may do what she likes, as I may do what I like--as long as Andruil does not make my home hers.” “And people find it titillating,” Felassan says. “The idea your wife is fucking your half-sister.” “Now, that’s unconfirmed,” Solas says, amused. “That she is my half-sister. I know they are engaged in a passionate affair, reaching heights equalling my own. The household attendants say they are not particularly discrete. But you know I have never confirmed who my mother may be.” “Because the uncertainty works better,” Felassan says. “Sure. So you say. But what will you do when you have to commit?” “No comment,” Solas says, and Felassan throws back his head and laughs. They have married and perhaps they have grown bored but they have used the marriage-gifts from Mythal to build a laboratory to study the vallaslin and undo its binding. Ghilan’nain is an expert at blood magic, he walks the Fade like none but Wisdom have, and with the two together they can feel the lease lessening. With him at war, she has the freedom to call for volunteers amongst her own people, and it keeps them both safer. They can pretend it is the other’s fault, they can pretend they never knew, if one is caught--and the work will continue, because the work must be done. The Pillars of the Earth have slowed their shaking since he closed the corrupted mine. The corruption seems to have stagnated within the Stone’s own children, and a dwarven general with whom he has occasion to parley tells him that for now, the poison seems to be isolated in that one lyrium vein Mythal had seized. Solas looks hopefully to the near future: peace is almost upon them. Quietly his aides have drawn up terms. Once they break the vallaslin, they will have enough popular support to force the Evanuris to convene, and he is determined they will have a treaty for the dwarves’ grandchildren, at the very least. He returns from war with a swagger in his step, and Felassan leaves him at the gate. “I find her eyes unsettling,” Felassan says, waving off the invitation to stay. “She’s constantly taking my measure and seeing where I’ll fit.” Solas laughs. “I quite like it.” He clasps him on his back. “She makes me--useful. But take care, my friend. If you shall not visit me, I shall visit you.” He turns and walks the monumental marble entrance, smiling at the magnificent halla he had carved to mark this as their place. He can feel Felassan watching his back as he goes, and appreciates his concern, though he himself does not deem it necessary. Nothing would dare strike the Dread Wolf within his own home. The household ranges in front of him--the staff that followed him from Arlathan, Ghilan’nain’s own aides, all paid. His wife stands at the center. She radiates an almost underwater heat, reminding him of the laboratory she created in the caldera of the Sundered Mountain, to the North. There is a tension in the air; he schools his posture to look unaffected. His lead attendant, Marella, looks at him pleadingly. Ghilan’nain steps forward. She wears a new diadem, inlaid with red stones that whisper like the Fade. He can almost hear it, the song sounds familiar, but he tears his eyes from her jewelry and meets her gaze steadily. “Yet another triumphant return,” she says. “The avenging hero comes home.” He takes her hand and kisses it. Her skin is cold. Arm-in-arm, they enter the hall, and their attendants fall in silently behind him. The whispers nudge at his mind. The stones must be Fade-touched, and she cannot hear it because of her blood magic. They do not bother him, but it is almost comprehensible, they want his attention, and it is hard to focus and see if she has made any changes in his absence because they hiss like shaken-up snakes. He can’t help but wonder how they were so stirred. She leads him to their baths, shedding attendants on their way. He had chosen this plot of land from Mythal’s munificence precisely for the natural sulphuric springs and proximity to the sea, and Ghilan’nain’s engineers have made good use of the hydrothermal energy. Finally, they are alone, and she turns to him and regards him coolly, those seaglass eyes measuring him, checking for any flick of the eye or uncertainty. Solas stares steadily back. She is smug about something, she cannot hide the slight smirk to her lips. He caresses her face and she smiles back up at him. Mythal’s vallaslin is as terrible on them as ever, but underneath the mark of their own fate is seething. She has done something, Solas realizes. She wants to celebrate it. He carefully lifts the diadem from her brow, careful to make sure the arms do not snag in her hair, and places it on the marble bench already waiting for them. The pool is before them, steaming gently. “You’ve done it,” he says, “haven’t you?” “In part,” she says. “Why don’t I show you?” She traces a hand up his chest and begins unstrapping him from his armor. When she has his breastplate off, leaving him in a relatively unremarkable silk shirt, he grabs her hands and kisses her. She tastes like smoke and lyrium, right into his veins, and he gasps as she strips him bare and takes him into the water. He has been a long time from the comforts of home. She pins him to the side of the pool, marble cool against his skin, and fucks him. In a less desperate mood, he would call it making love, but with Ghilan’nain it seems too quaint. And when she is satisfied with him, he sinks deeper in the water, tired but glowing, and closes his eyes as she traces the lines of his vallaslin. Her hand at the lines drawn onto his neck, Ghilan’nain speaks. “My exhausted soldier,” she says, amused, “always eager to perform in the line of duty, no matter how exhausted, how recent the battlefield, how tired from the road.” He wraps his arms around her and pulls her in tighter. Truthfully he wishes to rest, even fall asleep in the bath, and then retire to his offices and find out what has his staff so anxious. “I wouldn’t call it a duty,” he says. “Not nearly so rote as that.” Ghilan’nain tosses her hair back. “I should hope not.” She pushes herself up slightly in his lap, hands on his shoulders, and Solas rocks back. Her eyes glitter. “Now, my heart, where no one can see us, where all assume we are celebrating your return home.” “Yes, we do have a reputation to keep,” Solas says. He places his hands on her hips to keep her steady. Ghilan’nain arches her back, and he notices a slight bruise right at the edge of her right breast, and wonders if he left it. He resolves to leave a match on the left one: it is not jealousy, but he has always been competitive. He traces the edge of her breast like she likes, and she shivers. She genuinely shares this passion with him, he knows it. The alternative is too humiliating to bear. “The vallaslin,” she says. “Though it cost me thirty percent of my sample size, I’ve reverse-engineered the geass Mythal laid upon us. It’s not blood magic, not like we thought it was. She’s been using lyrium, my love. Lyrium and Fade-touched stormheart in the ink.” Solas leans back into the wall, and Ghilan’nain slips slightly in the water and wraps her legs around his waist. She searches his face. “How large was the sample?” Solas says repressively. She pulls back. “Large enough to get the results,” she says sharply. “You may read my report yourself.” “My heart,” he says, by way of an apology. Their limbs are entangled now, and Solas worries she will trip. Carefully he extricates himself and rises, dripping, from the pool. He towels himself off and turns back to Ghilan’nain, who watches him. Her face is unreadable. It mirrors his. Solas reaches for the clothes an embarrassed servant must have placed, while they were otherwise occupied, on the bench where Ghilan’nain had left her robes. A red tunic with gold embroidery about the collar, soft doeskin trousers, and a new wolfskin: Solas turns back to her, smiling. “These are lovely,” he says, fingering the embroidery. He can taste the sigils sewn into the shirt: to keep it from tearing, to wick away sweat, to keep it clean. He catches a particularly strong shielding spell, powerful enough to glance away a blade going for the neck. Ghilan’nain rises from the pool. “You never buy new clothes,” she says. “And what we are about to do will not make us popular at court. Try them. They’ll adjust to fit. I’ve been working the weave to adjust to your body heat.” She takes up the diadem and hands it to him expectantly. It sears his hands, and Solas drops it in surprise. It clatters to the floor. Ghilan’nain bends to pick it up, his eyes travel the length of her back, and she straightens, placing it back into her hand. He takes her hands. They are untouched. “Too sensitive,” she says, “Fadewalker.” She takes his face and kisses him. Her tongue is cold, her skin is cool, and he cannot summon back the fire he found in the pool. She has not answered how large the sample size was. She knows he disapproves. He breaks the kiss and picks up her robe. Disappointed, she steps forward, but he drapes it around her. “Perhaps later,” he says, trying to smile. “The dispatches…” “Of course,” she says. “And do read my report.”

They do not sleep apart, though each has their own rooms where they entertain other guests. Solas hurries to his private quarters, uneasy in his marble halls. The house is too quiet. Where are his young scholars, his petitioners, his angry priests? He was expecting, at the very least, a dinner party, perhaps with Imshael and Geldauron in attendance. In his office his in-tray is already filled. He groans. Mythal’s business never ends. He slides into his chair and begins sorting his mail. His staff would have already prioritized what must be answered today, but he prefers to pick the order in which he writes. He sets aside a letter from Falon’Din, complaining about a group of partying swineherds, to be answered last. His swineherds may party on, and encroach on whomever’s borders as they like, as long as they keep their brawling to a minimum. He makes a mental note to send Felassan that way, to make sure this does not escalate. At the very bottom of the pile is a curious little letter, written on fishskin. Solas wrinkles his nose at the smell. Carefully he tugs the almost translucent paper from its scaled envelope. The words are inscribed with Veilfire. The message is short, written in bold block letters: HAIL THE EXALTED ONE THE WILL THEY CALL PRIDE MYTHAL’S OWN, THE DREAD WOLF WE CRY YOU MERCY MERCY MERCY MERCY WE REPENT MERCY Solas places the letter on his desk and sighs. He closes his eyes, palm flat over the words, and enters the Fade. The room melts into the Waking World, Veilfire bringing him into the message, and in the Dreaming he floats in an underwater chamber, gorgeously ornamented in gold and green glass. They show Ghilan’nain taking tribute, which is her right. Solas glances around him and sees that he is flanked suddenly by whispers, elves with their faces splitting raw with scales, throats bleeding as gills emerge, and their vallaslin ripping suddenly from their bodies in as they erupt, screaming muted in the underwater temple, and horrified Solas opens his eyes to his simple office with the words in his ears: “Mercy. Mercy. Mercy.” “Those were her people,” Solas says aloud. “I knew she was taking volunteers, but I didn’t know--the vallaslin was ripped from the body in their transformation, how can anyone survive that without aid? How many died? How many died after the experiment was deemed a success?” He waits until she is sleeping to investigate. The report lies heavily on his mind. One thousand elves, given willing sacrifice: only seven hundred have survived, and they have changed. They are creatures of mottled flesh and ripping pain, minds shattered by blood-bond Ghilan’nain pulled apart. She treats skeins of flesh like yarn that she can knit--but her subjects feel. His staff has kept track of how many have survived since the vallaslin was removed: only fifty-five percent. Of one thousand loyal attendants, seeking their freedom, only three hundred and eighty-five have survived. The kill rate is equal to Falon’Din in one of his worshipful moods. Solas is seething. She promised him they would do better. He would not have bound his heart to hers, if he knew she would end like this. He changes his clothes to a more simple homespun, and leaves off the wolfskin. He has been a servant and is still a slave to Mythal, whatever his manumission papers say. He can still pass as one today. He walks through his staffers’ paths through the wing he calls his own towards Ghilan’nain’s private laboratory. He is realizing why Mythal encouraged the match, and how both he and Andruil can find something compelling. Ghilan’nain has always been chilling. He mistook the shivering for passion, not frozen sadism. They both would do anything for their freedom, he has always known that--but this beggars belief, this crosses beyond what he thought possible. He presses a hand to her office door, and it swings open. She trusts him, and has left it unlocked. He has never done that for his wing of the house. Slightly ashamed, he wonders how she could have so misunderstood him. Then he remembers: six hundred and fifteen dead. Solas groans aloud, then slaps a hand over his own mouth. Mercy, mercy, he thinks: I repent. Her space is as clean and shining as possible. She has a sketch of her first halla that he made her framed on her desk. Solas resists the urge to take it. Above her desk, she has a set of antlers mounted on the wall. Andruil must have hunted it for her. It must be her fault, she was so reckless, Andruil must have egged her on: no. Solas waves the thought away. Whatever Ghilan’nain has does, it is her choice and hers alone. Andruil has never been capable of this calculating cruelty. Ghilan’nain chose to press ahead with the trials, even as her people began to mutate. Solas thinks again: thirty-eight point five percent. He says it aloud, to make it real. The glowstones activate at the sound of his voice. Lyrium is so responsive, especially to those who walk the Fade like he does. He walks away from her desk and begins examining the tanks that line the walls. Most of the creatures are asleep. Some of their faces are burnt blank. Solas’ heart sinks. These were people, once. These were Ghilan’nain’s people, so his people too. The vallaslin must be removed, but not at a cost such as this. He investigates, growing more and more disgusted. One creature is still recognizably elvhen, but bowed by massive horns erupting at odd angles from its face. Another has half its body melting into a dragon’s tail, but speckled with sores angry with inflammation. Solas stares at it, removed from itself. He wonders how it removes waste. He notices its hands are bound. Scales litter the bottom of the tank. He moves on. Hidden in a recess at the back of the room, furthest from the door, is a small pool, stinking of brine. The room grows hotter as he approaches it, and he hears strange whispers, the same from that odd diadem Ghilan’nain wears. Again, they feel familiar, but even if they are imbued with Veilfire, it is not the same kind that the petitioners wrote into the letter that brought him here. He casts his mind back, trying to place the odd sense of familiarity. The whispers have a sense of sluggish rhythm, and he finds himself moving in time towards the pool. It glows red rather than green, so it cannot be Fade magic, though he knows color signifiers are arbitrary, and Ghilan’nain’s senses are different from hers, ground by her blood magic. She would not be able to hear the whispers. They come at him through the Fade. Solas crouches by the pool. His hand reaches out to touch the water and he stops himself. Shaken slightly, he takes a step back. Grounding himself firmly, he closes his eyes and listens. “We are here, we have waited,” the red waters whisper. “We have slept, we are sundered. We are crippled, we are polluted. We endure. We wait. We have found the dreams again. We will awaken--” Solas rips himself away, foot hovering above the pool. He scrambles, stumbling over himself, clattering to the ground, but mercifully on dry ground. He knows those evil whispers, he knows that red glow. It is the corruption in the Titan’s blood that festered when he and Mythal dealt it a mortal wound. It is a pollution he thought he had culled. It is a poison he broke from Mythal to cure. The Children of the Stone with whom he has drawn peace terms call it a blight. Ghilan’nain has cultivated it in their own home. Rage grips him and he surrenders to it. Dead whispers poison the air he breathes, the pollution is in his lungs now, synthesizing in his bloodstream, and red he storms calling fury electric down the halls of his silent home. The door to their bedroom swings open before he even shapes the ask in the Fade. Ghilan’nain is sitting before a mirror, combing her long hair. She turns, and for a moment they simply stare at each other. Finally, Ghilan’nain breaks the silence. “I take it you read the report,” she says. Solas throws the papers at her feet. “Ah,” she says. “I should have anticipated you would react that way. Did you make it to the conclusion, at least?” “The lyrium,” he says. “The pollution I found in the Deep Roads. That was not used. It was supposed to remain forgotten!” Ghilan’nain twists her mouth. “Is this what this is about? Really? You are angry because I explored and expanded our options--the corrupted lyrium broke the geass of the vallaslin, Solas.” “And how many died for you to find that?” Solas snarls. “I saw the corpses, Ghilan’nain. They were our people! They came to us for aid! They volunteered only because they trusted that we would make it worth it, and now--” His voice breaks. “We are no better than Sylaise in her vanity. Or Falon’Din.” “Perish the thought,” she says mildly. “Surely I’m no worse than Mythal--she has asked the same of her people, and more.” He is disgusted, and he is disgusted with himself, because he has thrown his lot with her. He was to petition Mythal formally to raise Ghilan’nain to Evanuris--and she deserves it. She is just like the lot of them, happy to drown in blood. “No,” he says. “No. No. You are worse. Mythal has asked too much of me, that is true. But she has never let her people die in vain. She has spared us what agony she could. And even when she has been cruel, she--” He stops. “This is no justice, Ghilan’nain. You are nothing like Mythal.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Solas,” she says exasperated. “You want your freedom--I found it. And I did not even use up the whole stock. I was merciful. And for the dead?” She shrugs. “Well, they died for a good cause--your cause. Their sacrifice must be nobly borne. No more of these histrionics, my love. You have been too long away in war. You are home now, and we are so close to unravelling the bindings. I can break the geass, but you can hear what the lyrium says. Together we can--” “Shut up,” Solas growls. “Shut up.” Ghilan’nain’s face sharpens, and he sees her reaching for her staff. He throws his arm out, reaching into the Fade to shove her away. The force of the blast shatters the mirror of her vanity, and quickly he throws up a barrier. Ghilan’nain screams, her face dripping with blood. The glass has cut into her eyes. “I can’t see,” she sobs. “Mythal’enaste, I can’t see. You bastard, you fucking son-of-a-wolf, I can’t see!” Her voice rises to a wail. “Solas! Help me! My love, help me!” Solas hurriedly picks up the papers he had scattered so carelessly on the ground. Stepping around the shattered mirror, Solas leaves. Ghilan’nain weeps blood and mucus behind him. He hears her calling behind him: “Andruil, avenge me.”

[thorinthehottotty]

Seven Kingdoms - Thorin

Based on an idea that @kibleedibleedoo sent me and has been very wonderful and patient about me writing this! Its really a wonderful idea, thank you so much for sending me it! I took some liberties with it, I hope you don't mind.

Your so good at writing im so jealous and i was hoping if i give you a premis you might be able to write a oneshot? Dont feel pressure to do so though i just felt like i needed to get this idea off my chest. So i had the idea of a courting ritual including 7 steps (representing the 7 kingdoms or something) the first is a hand made courting bead, the next 5 are sentimental gifts, and the last step is to wash each others hair (1 parent each as witnesses) and do a 2 strand braid (to represent your union) clasped with a bead the individuals parents' would have made upon their birth with their name and such. In my head Thorins one is not a dwarf so does not have a bead so all of the company are scrambling to help you craft a personal one as soon as the hear of your impending union and who will be your stand in father? It cant be anyone related to thorin as thats a confliction of interest, maybe bofur? I dunno Sorry this has been so long

The bickering and the fighting was giving you an enormous headache. The dwarves were all so near and dear to you that it made this part of the process so hard. With a deep breath, you stand and move toward the balcony, your favorite spot in all of Erebor.

Although it always made you glance out at the place where so many fell during the battle of the five armies, you found an odd peace din staring out at the now snow covered valley. Even now, big fat flakes were falling slowly to the ground in a way that calmed you.

A heavy weight drifted around your shoulders, you glance over to see Bofur smiling warmly at you as he draped a coat about you. "What's this?" He murmurs. "My future queen wandering outdoors without a coat?" You beam back at him with chilled cheeks.

"Sorry, all of the bickering is getting on my nerves. Thank you for the coat, Bo." The dwarf beams at you and matches you posture, leaning against the cold stone to gaze out at the land below.

"They all mean well, lass."

"Oh, I know that," you sigh. "I really appreciate all of you supporting Thorin and I. It's just a lot, you know?" This seemed to mimick the conversation you tended to have on repeat with your future husband. The entire union seemed to be on stand still for one issue Thorin hadn't mentioned. It was hard enough to get him to explain the rules of courting and you ended up having to go ask Balin.

Lo and behold, there were seven steps to courting to represent the seven dwarven kingdoms. The braiding was the first and most obvious step. Something you'd learned and tripped over accepting his blunt asking. Literally. In your defense, all of the docks in Laketown seemed as though they were forever made of ice. But you were very eager to accept.

One thing that you were not expecting, was the fact that dwarves apparently did not have proposals. So when you asked Balin about it, he happen to tell you that you were only one gift away from nearly being married! Each sentimental gift that Thorin took his time to make you himself (and the ones you'd given him without realizing the connotations) was the deepening of your relationship.

His first gift, while he was in his dragon sickness, was one of his mother's necklaces. Something delicate and beautiful. It was eligant. He ahad to wait for you to give him something in return. With each gift he gave you, you scrambled to find something in return, only to discover after that you were very forward in your relationship.

The last step was the only one left to be accomplished now, just one short month after the battle. It had much of the company stumped.

After this, your union to the king would be complete. You would be technically married until your wedding ceremony that he wasn't keen on waiting for his sister to arrive with the rest of his people from the Ered Luin. The dwarf king didn't want to wait. He claimed he'd waited long enough for you, but the logistics of tradition were a bit harsh.

To complete the union, you would have to wash your hair with at least one parent for each of you present. His mother was long gone and his father was still missing, easy enough, Balin would take over. Your parents? Currently in your home dimension with no idea where you were or what you were doing. Kind of hard to do. On top of all of this, in your fiancé's culture, your parents would have made a bead with your name and the family crest so you can give it to Thorin. The company had been tearing their hair out for weeks trying to decide. They still were.

It couldn't be either of his nephews. Not Balin or Dwalin. They were too closely related and it would be a conflict of interest. So that still left quite a few.

"You're handling it all with more fire than the forges," Bofur muses. "Thorin is lucky to have such a determined woman by his side."

"Daw, thanks," you reply, leaning into nudge his side with your hip. "I'd do anything to be with him. Even if it means suffering through you all fighting over me." Bofur chuckles.

"You're so sick of us you've fled into the icy tundra just to escape!" He cries dramatically. He knew how much you dreaded the cold. But he didn't know just how lovely it was for you to crawl into Thorin's bed after standing in the chilly air.

You smile at your friend. "Bo, will you be my surrogate father?" You finally ask. Shock takes his face, then pride.

"It would be my honor and my pleasure, Y/N." You launch forward to hug your dear friend.

...

You lean back into the inviting lips on your neck, shivering under the sensual kisses. "You gotta stop," you plead. You hear the acknowledging rumble Thorin gives but he doesn't stop from delivering hot kisses to the over-sensitive skin of your neck.

You could feel the quickening of your own breath as his arms tightened around you, holding you captive. You should have known he was planning an attack on you when he invited you over to double check his work. His work was always flawless. Now his eager and heady touches were making you all too aware of the tenting of his trousers.

"We can't," you manage to whimper as he begins to pull the ties of your dress loose. His mouth ascends slowly to your ear as your body molds to his.

"I've waited far too long to have you as is." His voice brushing over your ear like black velvet has you pushing your hips into his eagerly. He groans and nips your ear as a reward for your crumbling reserve. Somehow, these secretive scuffles were so addictive and with the approaching dates, you felt helpless to his advances.

He turns you about and pushes you by your hips to slide onto the desk behind you. "Tomorrow evening we'll be united in marriage," you try to argue weakly as he drags the shoulder of your dress down.

Those blue eyes twinkle wickedly and he leans in to go back to attacking your shoulder with his mouth. Damn him. You feel the tugging of your skirts. He's pulling them up your legs enough to settle his hips against yours.

With his mouth on your shoulder, lapping at skin, one of his hands drags up your thigh. He's drawing shapes with his fingertips and it's so distracting you don't wonder about his other hand until it's squeezing a breast and your moaning.

"You bastard," you manage to call. You feel his teeth on you as he chuckles. He doesn't have time to respond because the door is thrown open and you both whip around.

"Unhand my daughter!" Bofur calls, his brother and cousin storming in behind him eagerly. Thorin is pulling your skirts down as your desperately trying to pull your top together.

You'd long since regretted asking Bofur to be your father. He was taking the role much more seriously than you expect. He always ensured you two weren't alone for too long.

"Bofur! You're not actually my dad!" You hiss as he pulls you from the desk. Thorin glowers, unhappy.

"You are still required to knock at the king's chambers," he rumbles.

"Tomorrow, I won't have to. Now come along. Your curfew is up." You snag a kiss from the king who glowers as your dragged away.

Tomorrow.

...

The moment you both met in the baths, the world stilled. All anxiety flooded from you as you make your way to your fiancé. He smiled warmly at you, already half naked. Bofur leads you to the king, beaming brightly, dressed in only your slip. It wasn't uncommon for you both to be naked during the ceremony, but given your background, the dwarves agreed this wouldn't be a necessity.

Dwalin's eyes look a bit glassy as Thorin leads you toward a large pool, the both of you sinking into easily. This whole thing felt so relaxing, with the candles and the oils set about, it was personal and cozy.

Thorin washed braided your hair first, murmuring vows softly in Khuzdul.

He guided you to sink into the water. You never imagined his big hands could be so gentle, but it was so soothing you felt as if you could drift to sleep as he carefully washed your hair. Then he began to rub a sweet smelling oil into your hair. The final braid, a two strand braid for the representation of the union.

You pressed against and held each other as the silence of your friends, the ones only their to bear witness, had you forgetting the two dwarves standing in the steam.

When you felt the beads fall against you, Thorin leaned down to kiss you firmly, nuzzling you in the process. "Amrâlimê," he murmurs.

And you reach for him as he sinks toward the water, allowing you to wash and braid his hair. You did everything slowly, from the soft words that you were careful to pronounce (Bofur insisted they teach you) to the delicate brushing of his hair.

The only sounds were your echoing voice and the gentle splashing of water. Finally, you clasp the gold beads made for you by the company into his hair. He pauses to admire your name etched into them, scales carved beneath them in representation of the journey you were discovered on. Thorin smiles when you press forward and kiss his lips. "My husband," you promise.

"My wife," he replies. And he pulls you with a squeal and a splash into the hot bath water and his lap, kissing you eagerly.

"I think that's our cue to leave."

"Aye. Absolutely."

You barely noticed them leave as the two of you pressed closer. You could feel how sacred the union was. This felt so incredibly right that you couldn't think of anything but kissing your new husband.

"So do you think you can wait for your sister to-" cue the splashing water of the King dragging your slip off and tossing it into the water far away. It hits with a slap.

"Come here, yasîth."

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