#the second proposal is swoon worthy

[bethanydelleman]

Mr. Darcy Proposal #1: It is an honour and a privilege to be loved by me.

Mr. Darcy Proposal #2: It is an honour and a privilege to be loved by you.

The sexiest pronoun change in the English language.

[indecisivemuch]

~ Titles ~

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You are determined to steal the title of best swordsman from Luke. You proposed a spar, which led to unsuspecting confessions and an alternate proposal/offer. (fluff, pining, playful rivals to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: some sexual innuendos but nothing explicit. Violence? (you two sparred).

Note: he’s like one of my only age appropriate crush if I’m honest LMAO. The others are all much older 😭

Word count: 4k

You wanted many things. You wanted glory, you wanted to have the highest winning streak to capture the flag, and you also wanted Luke’s head on a stick…sometimes. 

Oh yes, Luke has heard it all from your pretty mouth, and it does not get less amusing every time. In fact, the whole camp seemed to enjoy the banters between the two of you. At one point, it escalated to bets among campers on whether you or Luke would win against one another in things. Initially, both of you were shocked at the discovery. But when the surprise wore off, both of your competitiveness only amplified. Capture the flag became your guys’ war zone, and even silly things like who could finish chores quicker was a competition.

However, despite the rivalry being kind of playful, there was one thing you swore your heart upon winning - Luke’s title.

“Ah, well, if it isn’t the best swordsman,” you greeted as you spotted him approaching.

“If it isn’t the best flag captor,” indeed, you were always assigned to snag the flag due to your combat skills.

“And soon to be the best swordsman,” you added.

“You keep saying that but haven’t even gotten close.”

“I’m literally the second best.” The second those words left your mouth, you wished they didn’t. From the number of years you’ve known Luke, you could very well predict what he was going to say next, and because of that, you realized you just walked straight into his trap. You glanced up at the boy, only to see him already cheekily peering down at you with twinkles in his eyes - the sweet look of victory casting over his face.

“Ah, yes…second best,” the smugness interlacing Luke’s otherwise swoon-worthy voice made you scoff.

You never actually hate Luke, but neither were you two friends who hung out. You both were in different friend groups, rarely in the same space without making a quick remark or two, though they were all interlaced with a humorous undertone. There was a thin line between rivals and somewhat friends that you both mingled on without crossing. You would never tell him or admit it out loud, but Luke played a huge part in shaping who you are today as a Demigod. He constantly challenged you, which pushed you to take steps to become better. Over time, you two even slipped into a routine. You were each other’s sparring partners and, strangely enough, each other’s choice when it comes to quest partners.

You remember the first time Luke did it. Three years ago, you used to believe that he genuinely hated your guts and loved making fun of you for his own amusement. So when Chiron asked Luke to pick two companions for his quest, he named you without an ounce of doubt in his voice. You almost had a whiplash looking over at the boy who just called out your name.

“Not for long,” you settled on replying after rolling your eyes.

When you glanced back at him, Luke was giving you the look. The one where his lips were sculpted in a challenging and somewhat arrogant smirk, contrasting with the soft gaze that would always pair with it. It was as if he wanted you to know that despite his annoying habit of riling you up, he’d never cross any line that you would not let him, and he’d never push any buttons that you’d say were off limits. It was charming and sweet in a sense, though your mind dismissed that belief every single time and blamed it on your heart for being delusional. However, boy oh boy, your body reacted to it like Zeus has personally struck you with thunder every single time. Your lungs would collapse and malfunction for a second; your eyes would hold still and at him as if turned to stone by Medusa; your tongue seemed to have been frozen; your voice as if taken by Ursula. But amidst that mess, your heart would be beautifully embracing this feeling that it was harboring. It was something you never acknowledged or wanted to label because you knew it would be put into the universe as soon as you did that.

“I have a proposal,” you said, after forcing yourself out of that flustered state. 

“I’m listening,” Luke crossed his arms, and you almost gulped at how they bulked up when he did so.

“We spar. If I win, I get the title of best swordsman. You win, you can get anything you want,” you named the terms.

“Anything?” Luke asked, tilting his head with amusement twinkling in his eyes as you confirmed by nodding. “Ok, deal,” he drew a hand out, prompting you to shake it, which you mindlessly did. Little did you know, Luke did it on purpose as an excuse to hold your hand, even if it was for only a split second. 

It was sort of pathetic, and Luke knew it. But there was nothing else he could do. The only way he could ever touch you was either small actions like handshakes or getting punched by you. The latter happened more frequently as the two of you sparred together more. The both of you didn’t make a habit of hurting each other, but it was bound to happen when practicing combat. 

As toxic and insane as it sounded, Luke was somewhat addicted to the infrequent pain that you were inflicting on him. One, because he got to feel your touch, albeit it was aggressive. Two, the worried look on your face - the closest he thought he would feel to you caring about him as much as he cared about you. Three, waking up the next day with purple bruises left by you, which, to him, was the only substitute for the type of purple marks he wanted you to leave on him.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you retracted your hand and got into position.

“Don’t you wanna know what I’d get if I win?” something in Luke’s eyes told you that whatever he had in mind was pure trouble, and he knew you had this urge to know everything. So you purposefully ignored asking about it.

“I don’t need to know, ‘cause that won’t happen anyway,” as you turned away, Luke let out a chuckle as his eyes softened at the sight of you. He knew that you know of the fact that he knows you well. Years of bantering and shy glances over your way when you weren’t aware has also taught him many things about you. Like how you prefer tabbing over highlighting your books, or how you’d always strike on the side first when combating others but would always change it up when it comes to him, or that your smile slightly tilted to the right when you are genuinely happy, or the fact that your love language was act of service because you were always going out of your way for the people you love.

At a far enough distance, you finally turned back at Luke but was caught off guard when you saw his sword already swinging at you. Years of practice forced your reflexes into action, and you caught his sword midair with your own.

“Woah, we never agreed that it started,” you yelled, pushing him and his sword away from you and yours.

“Do monsters wait for you to be ready during quests, sweetheart?” The mocking tone should not be affecting you the way it did, but it elicited this feeling of sheer annoyance and unleashed a hunger for victory. Luke got into a fighting stance as well, “Well then, ready whenever you are.”

You practically swung at him, and your swords clashed at an alarming rate to outsiders. But you two were experts at swordsmanship. Every move was quick and with ease. However, as Luke predicted, your eagerness to win was eroding your strategic senses. Taking advantage of this, he was planning to strike your armor next, aiming to create a mark on it. But you unexpectedly dodged down, and he was not prepared enough to change his course of action. 

Within seconds of a gasp escaping your lips, Luke halted still as his jaw dropped in horror upon realizing what he had done. He called out your name, trying to come nearer to inspect the consequences of his action.

Thunder started sounding as the gray clouds finally cast water upon you two. You traced your hand along the mark that was left on your cheek, eying the blood that was now on your finger. As raindrops landed on your hand and diluted the substance, you realized your attacks in the last five minutes have been too impulsive and you needed to keep your emotions at bay.

“Y/N?” Luke called out again, though it reeked a new level of worry this time. Luke was afraid he had crossed a line. Despite sparring many times in the past, Luke had never caused harm to your face before. In fact, he has always been careful to minimize the injuries he would inflict on you.

Luke held back the urge to rub his hand over where his heart would be to soothe it as his mind wandered off to the possibility of you hating him genuinely and never wanting him around again. He never told you, but the reason he trained so hard to become the best swordsman - apart from for glory - was for you. He knew you were also good at it and hoped the title would make you notice him. 

You averted your attention back to him and drew your sword up again. 

“What? You’re scared you won’t be the only one who looks good with a scar on their face anymore?” you asked, arching your eyebrow.

“Oh, so you think I look good with the scar?” Luke bantered back, though you could tell there was an immense relief that he was feeling. Taking advantage of his distracted state, you struck again, but he managed to dodge just in time.

The fight went on for another twenty minutes. You were too focused to see, but Luke was surprised by how you chose to attack him this time. However, you miscalculated Luke’s next move and had to abruptly try to dodge his attack. But by taking a step back, you gave him the perfect chance to strike. Within seconds, he managed to disarm and send you to the ground. 

Like the last thousands of spars, the tip of his sword ended up near your throat as an indication of checkmate. You knew you could make no more moves - definitely not without your sword. You lifted both hands up slightly in a motion of surrender, biting the inside of your cheeks as you peered up at him. 

Right now, sweat and rain were dripping down the side of Luke’s face. They rolled down his scar - that goddamn scar that never failed to make you go borderline feral with visions of the kisses you’d bless them with if you were given the chance to. His dark, wet curls were clinging onto his forehead, and the same colored eyes gazed down at you. They were so cocky, almost condescending, yet so hot it made you want them to be kept on you forever. 

You hated to admit it, but he looked so hot fighting you were willing to purposefully lose sometimes.

Little did you know, it drove him to the wall that you were peering up at him like this: cheeks flushed, heavy breath, and those goddamn eyes peering through your pretty lashes that could convince him to do absolutely everything you’d ask. The sight of you made Luke want to spill his guts and tell you everything he had been locking up inside his mind.

He extended one hand out to help you up. Like always, you accepted his offer and got up from the ground.

As you were about to let go of Luke’s hand, he slightly tightened his grip, and your heart fluttered at the action. He was staring at your guys’ hands in deep thought before softly rubbing his thumb across your fingers and knuckles. The way Luke delicately did so vastly contrasted with how he was fighting you during every spar. For a second, you wondered what it would be like to be loved by him and be held so tenderly.

“It’s okay, you know…” Luke spoke, breaking the peace from the sound of rain hitting the soil beneath them.

“What? Be defeated?”

“You may be the second-best swordsman in this camp-”

“Geez, thanks for reminding me that I’m only second best,” you playfully commented.

“But you’re first place...in here.” Luke pointed right at his heart using the hand that was not on yours. You stare at it with your mouth slightly agape.

“Stop playing around with me,” you almost stuttered, refusing to believe Luke was not trying to fool you for a quick laugh.

“I’m not,” Luke rebutted and pulled your hand towards his chest, causing your heart to flutter at the action. But unlike that small kick in your heart, when your palm lay between Luke’s hand and his heart, you could hear his heart beating like an engine that had lost control. Your jaw fell agape at the contact and the speed of his heartbeat. When you looked up at him, the earnest look on Luke’s face made you know that whatever he was planning to say was indeed from his whole heart.

“Third week at camp, I got knocked down by this much older kid during capture the flag, who wanted to maim me for some reason. You swept in, pushed him into the lake nearby and pulled me to run away with you before that kid could get out of the water and chase after us. It felt like I was lovestruck or something, but I could not keep my eyes off you after that. Somehow, you always draw my attention in any crowded room,” Luke blushed at his confession, shyly avoiding eye contact with you. “But after that, I think you sort of forgot who I was because you weren’t acknowledging me at all, and so the fifteen-year-old me thought maybe I needed to throw sarcastic remarks or say stupid things to make sure that my crush would remember me and know that I exist. Hence-”

“The banters,” you finished off for him. 

“And the rivalry. It’s pathetic, I know,” Luke added.

You were in awe of viewing things from Luke’s perspective. Because from your side, you did remember that day very vividly. The reality was you were too nervous to interact with the boy again after the incident, growing shy at the thought of talking to a cute boy. So you pretended that nothing had happened.

“Fast forward to when I returned from that quest that gave me the dragon scar. People weren’t exactly different, but I could feel that they were somewhat tiptoeing around me as if I was…damaged,” Luke’s eyes hollowed for a second, and you could see that he was being sucked back into the memories. But his absent state of mind didn’t last long, and his eyes lit up again as the boy continued, “But you were the one thing that did not change. You didn’t treat me any differently. Your remarks and blunt insults became fresh air for me. I never told you, but every time we interacted back then - every time you talked to me, insulted me, or even looked at me, it felt like…I could finally breathe in that suffocating time period. Seeing you suddenly became necessary, and I think that was when I realized…”

With your hand on Luke’s chest still, you could feel his heart start beating even faster, if that was possible, as if trying to break free from his ribcage. 

“I think that was when I realized I was in love with you,” Luke’s words came out as a whisper, like an oath too sacred to be said out loud. That is not to say he wasn’t afraid to shout it out from a rooftop. Luke just wanted his first time saying it to be for your ears only. For every single time after, Luke would make sure that his words and actions were heard loud and clear to you and others, if you would let him.

You almost could not believe your own ears. For the first time ever, you saw Luke look so vulnerable. He was usually so sure of himself, almost always overly confident whenever he was around you, just to irritate you with an inflated ego persona. But right now, it felt like the curtains were closing, and nothing was left but him with his heart in hand.

This was who Luke Castellan really was - under all the armor and titles.

And he was in love with you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but words froze. You weren’t sure what to say because you believe that whatever it is you utter out wouldn’t be able to top Luke’s words. You frowned as the sparks in Luke’s eyes dulled slowly. You could feel his hand keeping yours on his chest slipping slightly. At this, you flipped your hand around to hold his in place.

“Eleven months after you arrived at camp that I…” you paused, gulping as you tried to find the words, “This boy, he tore my favorite book apart because I defeated him during a spar and “embarrassed him” in front of everybody. He’s an absolute coward, too, because he brought his buddies along, knowing he would have never won one-on-one against me. So, he had his friends hold me still as he punched me in the face and stomach repeatedly.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed at the story. Of course, he remembered the incident. He only wished he had been there when it happened rather than in the aftermath.

“You found me bloody and bruised while I was heading to the infirmary. I was convinced you hated me back then because of all the sarcastic remarks I thought were genuine insults. So I thought you would just ignore me. But no, you stopped me. For the first time ever, I saw who you seem to really be: this caring and protective person. You were stubborn and determined to know what happened, even though I said it was not a big deal. Then you wrapped up my wounds in the infirmary wordlessly and would not leave my side until you walked me back to my cabin, where I finally told you who was behind it all.”

“Then, the next day, I found a new copy of my favorite book, candy, and new book tabs on my bedside. Later that day, I found out that his whole friend group, including him, had their hair dyed bright pink with dozens of bruises and cuts on them, and they could not even look at me. And I just knew it was you who had done all this for me, which changed how I see you - and us.”

“Is that why you left me your dessert for a month straight? After I lost dessert privileges for maiming those guys?” Luke asked.

“I did no such thing,” you tried to lie. Indeed, you were the mysterious person who left desserts next to Luke’s bed for the month after the incident. Even though you never told him, he knew it was you, and the look he was giving you right now conveyed he very well did not believe your denial.

“What I’m trying to say, Luke Castellan…is I think my heart might be a little too fond of you as well,” Luke’s jaw dropped slightly at your words. His heart almost spiked completely, losing a beat as if you caused him to flatline from bliss. Then, something glossed over his eyes, and you fully recognized it. The glint of mischief always presented itself before he said something cheeky to you. 

“You know, I think I’ll cash in my prize now. I did win after all,” Luke referred to your original spar deal. You huffed at his words and the cheeky grin he was offering you.

“Ah, right. So, what is it that you want?” Luke untangled his hand from yours and used both to cup your face slowly but surely. 

“Hmm, you did say “anything”,” Luke muttered as he glanced down at your lips, which made you subconsciously licked them. However, your action made him let out a quivering breath. Even though it was somewhat dark, you could still see that his eyes were dilated. You were pretty sure yours were as well. 

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” Luke was holding your face like it was the world that he had in his palms.  

“Yes,” you answered almost without hesitation, and he smiled at that. “Kiss me, Castellan,” you tugged Luke’s shirt, pulling him towards you, and almost immediately, he clashed his lips against yours.

Years of yearning were unleashed as you two practically melted in each other’s hold. The rain only added passion to the kiss, like fuel to the fire. Luke lightly backed you against a tree with one hand at the back of your head, shielding it from hitting the tree trunk too hard. Slowly, his other hand trailed down from your cheek to your hips. There were so many words he was seemingly trying to convey to you through his kiss. It was as if he was making a promise upon the love he intended to deliver to you. 

One of your hands tangled in Luke’s curls, twirling them around your fingers like it was their intended purpose to exist for. The other was on his cheek, your fingers subconsciously rubbing over his scar ever so delicately, as if they were gold to be treasured rather than a blemish to be ashamed of. Luke faintly shivered at your action, growing ever so breathless at the way you touched him, wanting to scowl at himself for being affected in such a way. 

Luke pulled away first, and you could not help but grin at the sight of him: swollen plump lips, messy dark hair, and a hue of pink dancing across his face. He cupped your face with both his hands again before leaving a small kiss on your cheek near where he had split your skin and drew blood. 

“This doesn’t change anything, you know? It may not be today, but someday, I will get the title of best swordsman if it is the last thing I do. Me losing today does not mean I’m giving up,” you said, hands still playing with his hair lovingly despite the stubborn declaration.

“I would not expect any less,” Luke replied, though wanting to add ‘if anybody were to take this honorable title, I’d want it to be you,’ yet he did not utter his thoughts. You breathed out a chuckle at his words.

“And yeah, maybe someday you will get that title,” Luke paused, taking a deep breath. You could feel how his chest seemed to stutter as his cheek heated up. 

“But for now, will you settle with the title of being mine?” you almost swooned at his words and the smile that he was giving you. If only you knew, he would give you all the titles you want: best swordsman, best counselor, his, and - if someday you would ever want it - his last name, as crazy as it sounded. Hell, maybe he’d take yours. 

“Yes, only if you’d also have the title of being mine.”

“I’ll wear it with honor and never surrender it unless you ever deemed me unworthy of the title,” Luke replied, grinning down at you like he had no intentions of ever letting you go.

“Never,” you grinned up at him, hands cupping his face before drawing him into another kiss, sealing the deal of forevermore.

———————————

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[leonasbunny]

— LEONA X FEM!BUNNY READER ˗ˋˏ♡ ˎˊ˗

• general, soft fluffy headcanons jwjwjw >:)) !!

because our hubby needs it ;3 !!

mentions of : sexual themes, predator-prey relationship, general fluffy stuff and mentions is angst then and there !!

“ If you only knew how much you meant to me, Kingscholar.. The things I’d do for you, the very galaxies and stars i’d lay before your feet if I could.. If only I could grab the very essence of life itself and pour it down onto the spring meadows we both lumber our sleep upon, I’d fill the fields with flowers for us to run across on and rift ourselves away with our bodies and mind swayed away.. Just you n’ me, Leona.”

He felt his heart skip a heat, thundering with passion with cupids arrow struck into his heart; piercing through the skin and tissue and straight into his veins.

Leona, the prideful lion who couldn’t give an ounce, not even two shits, about being affectionate and all; he couldn’t be easily swayed with words, nor could he easily be swooned with smirks. but you, Herbivore? Oh, darling you have no idea what you do to him.

He’s speechless, breathless, he wants to fucking pick you up and kiss the life out of you with all your heart and his too. Leona; whom had never been thought to be considered someone worthy; only knew that he was worthy to himself. His narcissism grew and grew, yet when you said that; everything fell..

He was no longer dawned on the thought that people should beckon to him, but instead- he found himself drawing nearer towards you.. Expressionless as he cups your little, squishy face and leans in with his warm, hot breath touching your skin and leaking softly from the scent of his perfume cascading your senses..

“The fuck’re you sayin’ herbivore? Are ya really trying to test me, huh? Little bunny. Tch, come here, cutie.”

Leona picks you up, grabbing the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushes you into a heavy kiss; regarding with you whimpering under the lions touch. A frightful bunny shouldn’t have said such a beautiful thing.. unless the little herbivore wants a taste of what it’s like to be the queen beside him..~

Leona, all jokes aside, loves it.. he really does. His ears perk up and his blush is so much more evident, as such as his flushed appearance. He can’t believe he’s ever hear something like that.. but given it’s you, he should’ve expected it. But can you blame him for being surprised?

Shadowed in the Afterglow Savannah by his own brother; much to the citizens disapproval of the second brother of Farena, he was looked down upon. Leona didn’t come out unscathed and untouched, frankly- he suffered through the hell of his childhood being second all his life. Thrown away by the country, wasted off from the Savannah. Though he stood firm, bearing a scar on his eye; trauma from neglect and love and affection of those around him and his palace courts-men.

But you, little bunny? You’re healing him. You’re healing his wounds, but even so the scars still remain and linger in his memory, you’re wiping the wounds off his body, erasing every fragment of a bad touch left in his figure. You found the key to his heart, and he utterly adores you for staying with him all these months..

One day, he hopes to take you to his home, and marry you there. Marriage is something you two haven’t talked about, given the early stages of your relationship. But he knows you inside and out, he knows you’re innocent, and even more so; more gorgeous than any girl he’s ever met. I’d say he’d propose to you anytime, anywhere regardless of the situation you’re in or wherever you are.

Leona doesn’t like to admit it, but he genuinely is afraid of losing you, his bunny. His darling herbivore. Leona thoroughly hates showing such weakness towards you. He knows you’re capable of taking care of yourself, especially given the fact women are highly respected back in his home kingdom; and you’re a very independent little bunny.. but hints of fear are given anytime Leona starts fearing you may be stolen away and he will be left with nothing once again.

It will never happen though, you promised him it wouldn’t. You love him with all your given heart, and he believes and trusts your word; and he will never admit any of the things he feels deep down; but he wants you to know that he does care. He does love you, but he’s unsure of how to give you that love.

Guide him through the relationship. Your big lion belongs to you, and you only. And he believes belong him, in a respectful manner of course.

But he knows the basics of dating, he’s had enough experience thirdwheeling Farena and his wife to have his heart stripped off the title of becoming King, thanks to his adorable little nephew. So of course, he knows quite a bit. He will give you expensive things; and no matter what you give him, expensive or cheap, he treasures it.

Made a picture frame of you and him? Expect it to be sitting beside his bed table next to his lamp so he can wake up to seeing your beautiful face every morning.

Made a bracelet out of cheap jewellery? He doesn’t care, he thinks it actually looks pretty good and cute. He will wear it, much to Ruggie’s teasing and soft remarks.

But he does it to show that he does care. And he hopes you do know that..

Leona believes that in a predator and prey relationship, he should mark you as his. Sex is one thing, but another is fully marking your neck; aka— him biting you and actually making a small, open wound in your neck. Hickeys are to be expected every single time in the relationship, regardless if you two are sexual or not.

He will grab you gently by the waist while you’re continuing to do whatever you’re doing; and press his body against you whilst biting your neck softly with kisses and affectionate nips. After all, can you blame this lion for wanting a little taste of his own food?

He will tend to go a bit overboard and end up leaving your neck with hickeys all over; slight drops of blood then and there. If you enjoy that sort of thing like he does then HWJSJWJSUWJ eXpeCt it to happen a lot whenever you’re spending time with him.

Whenever you’re in public spaces in school, you two are holding hands and he just doesn’t give a shit whoever throws a glance then and there. What’s there to be ashamed about? You’re dating. You are something these boys could never have even if they wished. A perfect wifey, motherly figure for Leona. A soft little bunny to wife over the big sleepy lion.

Leona loves the dynamic between you two, and so do you. You will be beside the Savanaclaw trio a lot, staying with Ruggie and hanging out with Jack. Leona trusts them that they’d look after you, given his orders. Especially since you’re a helpless little herbivore thrown out into a pack of wild predators within the school.

But he does tend to be a little jealous then and there, so please don’t mind him whenever you four are hanging out somewhere in his school and his tail tends to give you a little squeeze in your thigh, every so now and then. It’s just his way of being protective and showing the fact that you’re his, nobody else’s. And he is yours to do whatever you please.

He’s not uncomfortable with a lot really, so have free reign to do whatever you like. He struggles with public affection but if you like it, then he’ll let his pride slip. But oh boy, if you’re in private quarters or behind locked doors; you best know you’re not escaping his grasp. He’ll be hella affectionate to you, grinding against you and marking his scent on you.

Whether you like your relationship to be strictly romantic and slightly sexual, or mostly sexual and somewhat romantic, Leona honestly just doesn’t give a shit. He just wants to be with his bunny.

Speaking of which, your ears and tail is what he adores so much about you. His little herbivore is so freaking cute!!! He loves squishing you gently sometimes, touching your tail shaking softly and he loves touching your ears.

Please touch his as well! They’re sensitive but it’s a sign that you trust him. He loves you, dear sweetheart. He wants to be intimate with you, romantically. And he wants nothing more than to be soft and fluffy with you,, truthfully it makes him forget about his past; the future

You make him focus on the present..

.. ❤️🍓❤️

[corner-stories]

the shirtless wonder in the parking lot

Pieck Finger. Porco Galliard. Pomeranians. Fire Alarms. Swoon-Worthy Shoulders. Modern AU. 2895 words. (ao3.)

At this point of her adult life, Pieck Finger was very used to unexpected things — whether it be her research proposal being turned down for a third time, getting saddled with undergrad babysitting duty at the last minute, or the fire alarm in her building going off at 3AM. 

The sound of which was absolutely piercing, nearly making her heart skip a beat as she jolted up from her bed. It only took a few seconds for the blaring noise to be joined by the sounds of every dog in the complex barking their heads off. And here she thought that living in a pet-friendly building was a good idea. 

With a grumble, Pieck rubbed her tired eyes and moved off her mattress. So much for trying to sleep at a normal time like a responsible adult.

Stumbling through her studio in the dark felt like a blur. While she didn’t trip over her feet, she did bump her knees into more furniture than she would have liked. The sound of the alarm had yet to cease and was beginning to make her ears feel numb. Somehow she managed to find her keys, pull on her wellington boots, and grab her overcoat before leaving her apartment. 

As Pieck walked through the hallways with her neighbours, she noted that everyone moved with a zombie-like gait. It wasn’t the first time the residents of the building had to evacuate due to the fire alarm, but it was certainly the first time it happened at such an ungodly hour. 

At least they could all bond over the utter misery of the situation.

The alarm finally stopped once Pieck left the building, but stepping outside wasn’t remotely a change for the better. Though Toronto at this time of year wasn’t unfathomably cold, she could still see her breath as she stepped into the parking lot. She made sure to do-up the buttons of her overcoat as ends of the garments dangled by her bare legs. 

Pieck yawned once more, trying her best to not fall asleep while standing — she couldn’t go through that for a third time. So she stood in a gathering of the building’s residents, most of them complaining to each other about the alarm and trying to surmise who had rung it. She wasn’t exactly listening — in fact, a part of her didn’t even care. In layman’s terms, she was way too tired to give a fuck.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before a fire engine arrived at the building. As the uniformed men rushed in, Pieck sighed and began to wander, slowly finding her way out of the crowd of neighbours and deeper into the lot. 

Not that there was anything to see, not even an edgy teen smoking a cigarette just to feel something. 

But Pieck didn’t get far before she saw a sight that caught her off-guard. 

Under a streetlight was a dog and its owner connected by a leash. The dog in question was a pomeranian, a tiny ball of fluff that looked to be about eight pounds soaking wet. 

And the owner was currently standing in the midst of the lot… 

… wearing nothing but his boxers. 

Though technically, he was also wearing a lanyard around his neck and a pair of fuzzy slippers. Clearly, his feet were number one on the list of things that needed to be covered, everything else be damned. 

The drowsiness in her system left in seconds as Pieck eyed him, doing her damndest to pay attention to his face. 

He seemed about her age and was a head taller than her, though that wasn’t a tall hurdle to jump. The features of his chin and jawline were angular and sharp, which would have made him look dashing if not for his look of utter exhaustion. She couldn’t recall passing his hazel eyes or sandy hair in the hallways — she definitely would’ve remembered him. 

But then again, Pieck was rarely home. She had a habit of spending her evenings at the university, either data analyzing the night away or attempting an experiment for the fifth time. Even when she was at her building her thoughts were usually on how tired she was or how long it had been since she ate a goddamn vegetable. And the lettuce in a big mac didn’t count. 

A part of her began to feel bad — she had been living in the building ever since she came to Toronto and she couldn’t even put a name to one of the faces.

Soon enough, the Shirtless Wonder stopped staring off into space and looked towards Pieck, effectively breaking her out of her trance. 

Their eyes met and suddenly Pieck realized that her gaze had been lingering on him, which combined with his lack of clothes made for a very peculiar set of circumstances.

And not one that made her look good.  

“Sorry!” she blurted out. “I wasn’t looking, I was just… uh…” 

The Shirtless Wonder shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” 

From the sound of his voice, he was likely just as tired as her — who wouldn’t be at this hour?

Pieck nodded and looked downwards, very respectfully avoiding the sight of his crotch. She glanced at the fluff ball on the ground. The pomeranian had cream-coloured fur, a pair of beady black eyes, and seemed to walk with the grace of a nervous chicken wing. It looked up to Pieck and sat on the ground, wagging its tail in her presence. 

With a grin, Pieck approached the dog and the dog’s bare-chested owner. 

“Who’s the little one?” she asked.

“Her name’s Ripjaw.” 

Pieck let out a laugh. There was just something inherently hilarious about such a fearsome name being given to such a floofy chicken nugget. She knelt down to get to the adorable beast’s level. 

“Is she friendly?” 

“Not usually,” said the Shirtless Wonder. He ran a hand through his unkempt bedhead. “She seems to like you though.” 

Pieck’s grin was cheeky as she reached over to pet a very happy Ripjaw. “What can I say? There’s lots to like.” 

Pieck swore that she heard the Shirtless Wonder scoffing. 

With a gentle touch, Pieck patted the top of Ripjaw’s head, something the pom seemed to enjoy. Sure, waking up at 3AM sucked and she would definitely bemoan it once she headed out later, but meeting the cutest pup in the GTA was definitely an upside. 

With a smile, she glanced up to the owner. “I’m Pieck, by the way.” 

“Porco,” he answered, and for some reason Pieck felt like that name suited him. 

After a few moments of giving Ripjaw all the love she deserved, Pieck stood up straight again. There was another beat as the two tenants (and one dog) looked over at the chaos gathering in front of their building. Firefighters were still going in and coming out, speaking things to each other that Pieck could not hear. If anything, it seemed that the residents would be standing in the cold Toronto night for a few minutes more. 

With that in mind, Pieck turned her head towards the Shirtless Wonder and asked —

“So uh… not to bring up the elephant in the parking lot, but… did you just… forget to put on clothes?” 

Porco slowly craned his head her way, looked her up and down, and replied — “You’re one to talk.” 

Pieck looked down and noticed that her overcoat had come undone, exposing her fashion choices beneath. She was used to t-shirts draping loosely on her tiny frame — often giving the illusion of a make-shift dress — but occasionally running the risk of making it appear that she forgot to put on pants. Tonight, her outfit pertained to the latter criteria. 

In a way it was fitting — she had seen Porco’s underwear and now he had seen hers. They were finally on even ground except one of them didn’t have their nipples exposed to the frigid night air. 

“Fair point,” Pieck said, then did up her overcoat again. It was certainly not the first time a man had seen her skivvies in public, but she hoped that it would be the last. 

After finishing the last button, Pieck glanced down again to see Ripjaw smiling at her feet. The little one proceeded to jump upwards on her stubby legs, clearly craving Pieck’s attention. 

And who was Pieck to refuse?

With a grin, she bent down again to pet the pomeranian’s head. “Hello again, Puppy.” 

“Do you wanna hold her?”

Pieck’s head snapped towards him, shocked. “Can I?”

Porco was already nodding and kneeling down to pick up his dog. “Sure.”

In her owner’s arms, little Ripjaw had taken the mannerisms of a panting nugget. It was adorable. Porco held Ripjaw to her and Pieck graciously accepted the pup into the arms. The first thing she noted was that despite expecting Ripjaw to be heavier, she really didn’t weigh a lot. The length of her fur was shockingly good at hiding her true proportions. Yet Pieck still held the pom like it was her first born child, unable to wipe the pleased grin on her face. 

Clearly, this had been the best thing to happen to her at 3AM since the night she tried edibles and met god. 

When Pieck looked back to Porco she realized that he was standing just a little bit closer to her. The smile on his pretty face was unmistakable. Their gazes met and suddenly Pieck remembered that he was currently clad in nothing but his boxers, so she distanced herself from him very slightly, not wanting to risk his discomfort. 

“So… what do you do for work?” asked Porco, speaking in a voice that made her think that he was genuinely interested. 

“I’m a PhD Candidate. U of T.” 

Porco blinked, surprised. “Oh shit, no way.” 

Pieck couldn’t help but scoff. Nowadays, the pride she felt from getting accepted into her reach school had long worn off. Now in its place was the despair and agony only known to those who thought that getting a degree in pharmacology was a good idea. Sure, Toronto was definitely farther than she expected to go, as most girls in her hometown of Middle-Of-Nowhere, Alberta were lucky to make it to Edmonton, but the feelings of fortune had sapped away once she accepted her fate as a disposable grad student. 

But instead of dwelling on any of that, Pieck retained a smile and decided to say —

“You sound impressed.” 

“I mean… I’ve only done community college so yeah…” Porco explained, yet again running a hand through his hair. “You’re leagues ahead of me.”

“Hey, we all gotta start somewhere, right?” Pieck assured him. “Which one?”

“Centennial,” he answered, shrugging. Judging by the way he held himself, he didn’t seem too proud of his accomplishment. “I uh… did that automotive foundations course.”

Pieck tilted her head to the side, quickly looking him up and down and not for the reasons one would think. 

“Hm… you didn’t strike me as a grease monkey type…”

Porco raised an eyebrow. “Why so?”

There was a beat, then Pieck reached forward to take his hand, running her thumb over his palm and realizing that it was baby smooth. 

“Your hands aren’t that calloused…” she observed. “... and most grease monkeys I've met don’t have cute little muffykins dogs like this.”

Porco scoffed and gave his precious pup a few head pats. “Hey… I didn’t pick Ripjaw, she picked me.”

Pieck let out a laugh. She glanced down to see that Ripjaw had now fallen asleep in her arms, burying her tiny snout into the crook of Pieck’s elbow like it was the only place she ever wanted to be. The sight of it was enough to make Pieck melt then and there. 

For a moment, the underdressed PhD candidate and grease monkey looked towards their building entrance again. Behind the crowd of sleepy tenants were more firefighters exiting the place. Judging by the lack of skip in their step, it was fair to say that whatever called them over was no longer an issue. Or at least, an issue worth panicking over. 

One older firefighter with the bushiest mustache on this side of Lake Ontario stepped out of the building last. He was holding some kind of charred, smoking item in his gloved hand as he approached the crowd. He cleared his throat rather loudly to get everyone’s attention. 

From where Pieck and Porco stood, they could see the firefighter raising the item up in the air. It turned out to be a skillet that had been burnt to hell and back, whatever food had been cooking on it had been so scorched so thoroughly that it had turned black and became one with the pan.

“Lesson learned, people!” the firefighter announced. “If you make pancakes at 3AM, don’t fall asleep!”

Some chuckles were heard in the crowd, but most were drowned out by the groans of frustration and yawns of exhaustion. At least no one seemed particularly interested in pinpointing who started the fire. Nonetheless, the firefighters had deemed it safe to re-enter the building, much to the relief of everyone. 

Pieck handed Ripjaw back to Porco and the pom looked quite sad to be away from her arms. With her hands in her overcoat pockets, Pieck walked back towards the entrance of the building with the bare-chested grease monkey walking next to her.

They joined the crowd of people re-entering the place, Porco holding his precious pomeranian in his arms to prevent her from being trampled. Since everyone seemed to be taking their sweet time getting back into the place, Pieck turned to Porco and asked — 

“What unit are you in?”

“302. You?”

“402.” Pieck smiled. “I must be right above you.” She then reached over to boop Ripjaw’s nose. “I’m surprised I haven’t heard her screaming. Aren’t pomeranians supposed to be yappy?”

Porco chuckled, seeming a lot more awake despite the time of night. “Oh, she is, but she lets it out at doggy day care.” 

Something about the sentence made Pieck light up. “You send her to daycare!?”

“Of course,” he said, giving an honest grin. “Hers is just down the street.” 

The idea of little Ripjaw roaming a room of dogs brought a grin to Pieck’s face. A part of her could just envision the fluff ball acting like the mighty leader of the pack, commanding her own forces to bring them all to victory.

Surprisingly, Pieck and Porco were some of the few tenants taking the stairs. Perhaps some people were a little too sleep-deprived to realize how ungodly long the line for the elevator was. And in a four-storey building, no less. 

In due time they arrived at the third floor. Porco began stepping towards the doorway leading him to the hallway, catching Pieck’s attention.

“Guess this is you then, eh?” she asked. 

Porco nodded. “That it is.” His eyes then glanced down to Ripjaw in his arms, who’s attention was on the PhD candidate and only the PhD candidate. 

With a sweet smile on her face, Pieck walked over to give the pom a few pets goodbye. 

“See you around, Baby Girl,” she said, then looked up to Porco. “Oh, and you, too.” 

In any other situation — perhaps one that involved both parties being more clothed — Pieck might have directed the nickname to Porco instead, just to entertain herself. But for now, she was content to shower the adorable pomeranian with love and maybe acknowledge the owner too. 

Porco seemed to be amused by her antics. “You know, I come home around 6-ish every day. You could stop by.” 

Pieck nodded. “I like the sound of that, I could use a break from the neverending road of despair that’s academia.” Her tone was surprisingly cheery. 

Pieck was expecting Porco to laugh at her remark, as did most of her fellow grad students and candidates. However, when she looked up to meet his gaze all she could see was the look of utter concern on his handsome face. 

“Grad school humour,” she explained dryly, and to that Porco nodded quite slowly. 

“Ah, gotcha.” 

Pieck’s voice suddenly took a more chipper tone to distract from her sense of humour. 

“Anyways, good night!”

And with that said, Pieck turned around and dashed up the staircase as quickly as her boots could take her. She didn’t look back at the shirtless wonder, as much as parts of her wanted to. 

Once she arrived at unit 402, she was quick to grab her keys and enter her home. Now inside the comfort of her studio, Pieck immediately discarded her coat and boots like a stripper whose rent was due tomorrow. She didn’t even bother turning on the lights. A look at the clock on her night stand told her that she had less than four hours of sleep to enjoy before life would start again. So after diving into bed, she pulled her blankets over her body before closing her eyes and attempting to face slumber once more. 

To Pieck’s surprise, the last thing on her mind before she fell asleep did not pertain to her research, advisor’s words, or the lack of groceries in her fridge. Instead what laid in her head were the memories of a little fluffy chicken wing and a pair of absolutely swoon-worthy shoulders. 

[cinnaminyoons]

( LOVERBOY. )

ミ☆ he’s been working up the courage for this very moment for a long time. he can only hope you say yes.

⤷ PAIRING kth x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 4.5k

⤷ TAGS model!reader, anxiety-ridden gays being dorks

⤷ REQUESTED 

taehyung x reader 😼 tete in a distress on how to propose reader

“i love you,” taehyung whispers against your lips. it’s dark in the private room, and taehyung’s over-the-phone request for candles had been kindly obliged by the staff. this week is his turn for date-planning, and he brought you all the way across seoul to a restaurant so luxurious that even he feels intimidated by it.

you chuckle, folding your arms over the table. your suit fits you so well – taehyung does his best to keep his eyes on your face, but that, too, is swoon-worthy. he feels like a teenager all over again, staring at you longingly when he thinks you’re not looking.

“you’ve said that a thousand times tonight, baby,” you murmur. “you seem stressed. are you okay?”

he shakes his head absently. after a moment, upon realising that your question had been ‘are you okay’ and not ‘are you stressed’, he bobs his head rapidly, blushing. his soft hair flops over his eyes and he sweeps it away.

“i – i’m okay. sorry. it’s just… i know i haven’t really been present in our relationship lately, and i don’t want you to think i don’t love you – i really do! – or that i’m not as invested anymore, and i just want to make sure you know that you mean the world to me.”

you place your hand over his. you’re warm, and the familiarity of your skin on his calms his racing heart. “take a deep breath,” you say, smiling gently. he does, and it’s a little shaky. “don’t fret. you’ve got your job – i’ve got mine. i understand that it’s rough at the moment, what with your new album, but you don’t have to worry that i’ll be upset if you have to reschedule or anything.”

a heavy wave of relief washes over him and he relaxes, entwining your fingers. “you’re way too good to me, hyung.”

the golden candlelight flickers over your features. with the dark room and your black suit, the outline of you blends well into the shadows. what is visible is bathed in a soft glow, perpetually shifting over the planes of your face and reflecting in your eyes.

it’s unbelievable how good-looking you are, making every second of your day a photoshoot.

“you deserve everything good, my love. if i can be a part of that, however small,” your eyes soften, “then i am happy.”

he’s going to cry. he’s going to wail like a baby in this restaurant because he’s madly in love with you and can’t find the right words to express it.

maybe you notice how tightly he’s gripping your hand. you engulf his hand in both of yours, rubbing small circles into the back of his palm, and smile. “thank you for tonight, tae. it was wonderful.”

“i-it wasn’t much,” he mumbles, scratching his ear. “but i’m relieved it’s okay.”

you laugh quietly. the restaurant has a live band playing something jazzy outside, and though it’s slightly muffled, it provides a nice backdrop to your words. “relieved? you’re nervous tonight. seriously – what’s up?”

taehyung swallows. the small velvet box weighs like lead in his jacket, and he’s sharply aware of it with every movement he makes. “it’s just that,” he laughs, a little embarrassed, “you’re way out of my league.”

“out of – tae, baby.” you sigh, but you’re smiling, eyes patient and kind. “how many years have we been dating?”

“uh, five years this december.” it sounds like a long time when he says it aloud. it doesn’t feel like it, though – if you see each other once a week, fortune is on your side.

“and how long have we known each other?”

he has to think and count. “nine.”

“so, am i really out of your league?”

“i... guess not,” he yields. he glances over the empty plates and bowls. he’s finished off his fancy cola spider, which he’d taken from what was basically the kids’ menu.

“see? you’re getting worked up over nothing.” you lean back, taking your hands away – to taehyung’s disappointment – and smiling. “i think it’s time to get out of here, don’t you? i’ll drive.”

taehyung nods and shuffles along the booth’s seat. he pulls on a black face mask, following your motions, and gratefully takes your hand as you gently pull him up and out of the room. it doesn’t do a lot if someone’s staring you in the face, but it does help bored eyes slide off of you. taehyung plays at hauteur next to you, matching the environment, and his eyes twinkle up at you above his mask.

the restaurant caters to people of wealth. these people, often followed and reported on by various journalists or news outlets, have made it necessary for a second entrance to lead straight to a parking lot for an unobstructed getaway.

after taehyung pays and you escape the dignified eyes of others, you’re both chasing each other down the steps and across the underground car park. you’re like children again, running around the playground and muffling your laughter as the other passes by your hiding spot, totally unaware.

the moment your attention lapses, drawn by the sound of an aggressive car honk above, taehyung smirks and slips behind a concrete pillar, pressing his back flat against it. he stays perfectly still for a moment as you call out his name.

after a short silence, taehyung dares a peek around the corner. you’re not there anymore. he glances around, puzzled, and twists back against the pillar—

“gotcha.”

two strong arms wrap around him and quite literally sweep him off his feet. he lets out a shockingly high-pitched squeak and chains himself to your neck with his arms as you bounce him higher, carrying him bridal style.

“you’re ridiculous,” taehyung coughs out, doing an awful job at hiding his giggles. “put me down! right now. what if someone sees?”

you shift him in your arms as you wander down the aisles of flashy cars. he wriggles in defiance and your grip tightens considerably on his shoulder and thigh. “don’t,” you warn, “i’ll drop you. it’s actually very hard doing this while looking attractive.”

he huffs and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at your side-profile. “uh-huh. i’m not sixteen anymore.”

“yet you’re still just as cute.” you wink down at him, flicking your head in an exaggerated imitation of the heart-throb character in a teen drama.

he kicks his legs out and pushes his lower lip out. “you’re just saying that ‘cause we’re together. i was so awkward around you.”

“it was an adorable awkward, my love. it’s always fun poking you.” you set him down in front of the dark blue car, sliding your hand into his back pocket.

he flushes when you pull him close. his chain earrings sway with the motion of his head as he turns his face into your neck. you play with them, letting them run like stream water over your fingers, and he whines softly as you give them a little tug.

“what’s that, baby?” you coo. your voice rumbles in your chest and taehyung presses closer to feel more of it. it’s been too long since he last saw you.

just as he thinks you’re about to do something, you move away, whistling innocently with the car keys in hand. taehyung takes several breaths to calm himself, trying to bring himself down to a calmer simmer.

he crosses his arms as the car’s headlights flash and it beeps, unlocked. “you’re awful.”

“awfully in love with you,” you tease, pulling open the driver’s door. “now get in, loser. we’re going to the movies.”

—

taehyung’s going to see you today, and he’s freaking out.

the birds outside his bedroom window mock him with their cheerful, happy-go-lucky chirping. he had let himself sleep in for a little bit, as it is the weekend and his day off, after all.

it’s been over two months since taehyung first held the little black box in his hands. he remembers turning it over in his hands, admiring the velvety sheen of it under the jeweller’s white ceiling lights.

while he had certainly been nervous at that time, that’s nothing to what he currently feels. back then, he was tingly, excited and nervous and bouncing on his toes, the kind of nervousness he felt before concerts.

as always, there’s a warm, anticipatory fluttering in his belly that he gets just before meeting up with you. but today, some terribly hyperactive frogs have joined the butterflies. 

he has to sit down on top of the toilet lid, he gets so dizzy. he just sits in his bathroom, staring at his reflection – bedhead and all – and has a mild crisis.

is it too soon?

i’m going to make a fool out of myself.

i’m going to choke and then i’ll suffocate and then i’ll die and then i’ll never be able to tell him.

but there’s been one spectacularly determined thought that he can’t kick out of his head, no matter how much he tries to. he has tried distracting himself with other tasks, and when that didn’t work, he did his best to logically step himself through it, should it actually happen.

you’re kind. you would never make him feel stupid. you and taehyung have been going strong for half a decade – he feels very old, all of a sudden – and this would be on anybody’s mind. you shouldn’t be surprised by it, even in the worst-case scenario.

he hopes it really won’t come to that.

“you want to know how much he loves you?” yoongi once asked when taehyung confided in him about his worries. “he doesn’t let you near the frying pan because he doesn’t want the oil to pop on you.”

such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. and yet, that’s the memory that comes into his head when he’s anxious about where he stands with you.

an hour and a lot of pacing later, he arrives on your doorstep. he knocks – tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap – and pushes his hands deep into the pockets of his coat pockets. the long brown coat is lined in cream-coloured sherpa fleece.

the door flings open. there you are, wearing a burgundy turtleneck and socks with pineapples on them, accessorised with a certain exasperated fondness in your gaze. “there you are, my love. you’re late.”

“ah,” he says cleverly. “good evening. i couldn’t find anything nice to wear.”

you laugh and wave him in, moving aside. he bounces up the steps and kicks his shoes off as you shut the door. “your wardrobe is bigger than my bedroom. what’s in it? bedsheets?”

“actually, most of it’s your stuff.”

you take his coat and hang it up. “and what’s so bad about my clothes, huh?”

“nothing! only, they – they’re unique.”

“mhm.”

he drops his head on your shoulder. he feels your laughter more than he hears it. “i don’t want anybody noticing how similar our clothes are.”

you place your hand on the small of his back and guide him further into your home. “if anyone asks about it, you can just say you admire my tastes. imitation is the highest form of flattery, and whatnot.”

he shrugs. he shakes his head and stops you in the kitchen, lacing his fingers around the back of your neck. “you know, your impeccable taste extends to more than just your clothes.”

you place your hands on his waist instinctively. the comforting weight pulls a soft sigh out of him. “oh? what else, then?”

“well,” he hums, “your taste in men is pretty good.”

you roll your eyes and push him away, the sound of his laughter ringing out in your cosy home. “you’re insufferable,” you call over your shoulder.

“you love me for it,” he says through a giant smile, his eyes warm like melted chocolate. he follows you, bringing plates of food to the table. the savoury scent and rich spices make his mouth water.

“no peeking,” you say without looking, setting a few side dishes down.

hastily, taehyung lowers the dish to chest level. “i wasn’t peeking.”

you grin and reach for it across the corner of the dining table. “i hope you’re not lying to me, love. i’d be very upset if you were.”

he makes a noncommittal noise in his throat.

“come,” you say gently, pulling out a chair. “sit. it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.”

he slides into the chair, pausing only momentarily to peck your lips. that little gesture says for him what he struggles to.

it isn’t that he doesn’t want to say it – he would scream it from rooftops if he could – but it’s the actual wording part that he has difficulty with. he doesn’t quite know how to tell you that holding your hand makes him feel like a sparrow flying among cotton-candy clouds, or that he purposely hides the extra pillows for he has an excuse to hold you while he falls asleep.

when you join him at the table, he notices how all the dishes are crowded in front of him. he pushes them closer to the midpoint between you, only for you to push them back towards him. “hyung, you don’t have to do that.”

“what if you can’t reach?”

he pouts. he says, “i don’t have tiny little t-rex arms, honey.”

“just eat,” you tell him. he does, with minimal complaining. as much as he’d like to protest, the food smells so delicious it has his heart speeding up in anticipation.

he opens up the main dish, peering under the lid, and his entire face lights up like a child on their birthday. in the blink of an eye, he’s shovelling glass noodles in his mouth, mumbling i love you so much around vegetables and meat.

it can be assumed that he’s talking to you, but with his expression, he could just as easily be talking to the noodles. either way, it’s a win for you.

you take a moment to watch him eat with a soft smile. dinner dates are a common choice for both of you – especially when you’ve got busy schedules. neither of you wants to delay dates because there’s not enough time, so you take advantage of meals to see each other, even if it’s just for twenty minutes.

besides, taehyung’s adorable when he eats good food. you’ve perfected your japchae recipe just for him – and if you’re ever cooking when he pops in, he stares at the skillet like it’ll disappear if he blinks. if you tease him about it – and you always do – he’ll get all shy and bury his face in your back, stepping up onto his toes to look down over your shoulder with a face heated by the blue fire of the stove.

dinner goes smoothly. you chat about your days, memorable encounters with strangers, and how big your potted plants are getting. it sounds so mundane and ordinary yet makes taehyung’s heart swell with affection.

maybe it’s because joking over the dinner table isn’t something that's routine for the two of you. it’s a lull between verses, a breath between one line and the next. if he could, he’d soak up moments like this forever.

the bowls lay empty, stacked in the sink, and yet you’re both still hungry. the last fading rays of the sun breach the kitchen windows as he presses his lips to yours, quick and light – once, twice. then deeper, for longer, until he’s gasping for air, lips rosy and kiss-swollen when he pulls back.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he whispers. rebellious strands of hair frame your face, lit up in a blinding gold. it softens the sharp glint in your eyes, the angle of your cheekbones – both beautiful like a knife’s edge.

your hand slips from cupping his cheek to balanced on his shoulder, thumb resting in the dip between his collarbones. you say teasingly, “then you should be happy you’ve got me, hm?”

he is. he is happy.

—

the morning is heralded in by pale sunlight streaming into his eyes. his brow furrows and he sinks his face deeper into his pillow. it’s warm, and firm. his eyes crack open blearily.

unusually, he’s woken before you. his pillow turns out to be your torso. his head rests on the junction between the arches of your lowest ribs, that place of perfect ease as you sleep, becoming a broad, slight concavity when you breathe in.

your warm palm rests on the round of his shoulder. you’re curved comfortably, temple resting on the other arm thrown across the pillows. taehyung, tucked into you, turns you both into a sort of capital t-shape.

he likes to watch you. it sounds kind of creepy, now that he thinks about it, but he doesn’t mean for it to be. he just loves basking in the knowledge that you’re his.

he glances at the clock on the wall. after a moment of calibrating his sleepy mind and blinking the blurriness from his eyes, he notes that it’s nearly half-past ten.

taehyung falls gently back to your stomach, exhaling softly as he closes his eyes again. he’s no longer tired – the sun has gained its strength, shining through the gap in the drawn curtains – but he delays getting up. his lashes graze your skin as he blinks, tracing the dips between pads of muscle with a touch as light as an artist’s brush.

on the bedside drawer, your phone buzzes. taehyung lifts his head. he stretches up and over your body and flips your phone upright, resting the bottom edge on the wood. after entering your password – it’s the day he confessed to you – he briefly scans the email.

he huffs and shuts off the phone, letting it drop back to the drawer. he rests his temple against your shoulder, the curve of his nose settled against the side of your neck. slowly, his fingers creep towards your gently-curled hand, sliding closer until his knuckles sit between each of yours, soft palms pressed close together.

it’s a humming sort of heat, he muses as he links your fingers together. despite the stillness of your body, life thrums in your veins, right there under your skin.

your chest rises and holds for a moment – you stir awake.

taehyung smiles softly. “good morning, honey.”

“mornin’,” you mumble, letting out a loose exhale. “time?”

“ten-thirty. someone’s contacted you for business.”

“ah… who?”

“vogue.” he laughs at your sigh. “what’s wrong now?”

you shake your head. “you wouldn’t mention it if it didn’t have something to do with you.”

he fakes offence. “oh, am i not allowed to take an interest in my favourite hyung’s life?” he settles back down, closing his eyes. he hums as you close your hand around his, lifting it up towards the sun. “it’ll mess with our dates. they want to fly you out for a whole week, and i’ll be touring right after it.”

your hand tightens on his. “that’s alright. we’ll enjoy the time we have now and make up for it afterwards. whose turn is it?”

“yours.”

“i’ll take you on a romantic trip to the aquarium. what do you say?”

chuckling softly, he gazes at your entwined hands, stretching his fingers out. the pink flesh glows as the light streams straight to the bone. “hyung?”

“hm?” you admire how his fingers slot so perfectly between yours.

“i love you.”

“i love you too, tae. never forget that.”

he smiles, gazing up at your face through his lashes. “i won’t. but you know what i have forgotten?”

you frown. “what?”

“i was supposed to make breakfast today.”

you fall back into your pillow and it puffs up around your head. “oh, love, i thought it was something serious. hey, it’s not that late. you can still make brunch.”

he rolls onto his back, settling against your chest. he says cheerfully, “then i hope you’re alright with waffles. we don’t have a waffle-maker in the dorms – sacrilegious, i know, right? – so i’m going to abuse yours.”

“i have a brownie box mix somewhere, i think,” you offer, “want to stick that in there, too?”

“we’re totally trying it.” taehyung rolls over again with a sleepy groan, pulling himself up. the white sheets pool around his thighs as he props himself up on one arm, gazing down at you with soft brown eyes. “wanna get up now?”

you can’t take your eyes off him. he’s a marble statue of a greek god. the sheets cover just enough to allow for modesty, twisted prettily around his hips. his calves are carved of muscle, and his lean torso is twisted so that the line of his shoulders follows the line of his legs – an artist’s muse. his hair is a complete mess, sticking out in every direction, and the even glow of the morning sun falls on his ankles so beautifully.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles shyly, tucking his feet closer to his body.

“marry me.”

his breath sticks in his throat as he stares at you, eyes growing round like dinner plates. his startled gaze follows you as you sit up and dunk a hand into the drawer beside you.

there’s a little red velvet box in your palm and your hands are shaky as they open it, revealing a silver band studded with a diamond in the centre, glittering in the light.

“would you do me the honour…” you swallow. this is not the way you planned for it to go, but it’s going, and you can’t stop. “of making me the happiest man in the universe?”

taehyung’s world shrinks suddenly to this very moment. nothing else matters but the way you search his face for a reaction, a response.

taehyung scrambles off the bed in just his boxers and dashes towards his jacket. he isn’t gone for very long, not letting you drown in embarrassment and fear, before he comes skidding back into your bedroom, dropping to one knee with a black box in his hand.

“you beat me to it,” he chokes out, tears gathering on his lashline. “i’ve been stressing about this for months and you beat me to it.”

“t-tae…”

“i even prepared a speech, you know?” your shape on the bed is blurring. he’s crying. you’re crying. you’re both laughing through it. “i – i was gonna tell you how every day together you make me fall in love with you all over again, a-and about how i want to kiss you for new year’s for the rest of our lives. i was going to be all s-suave and smooth, too…”

he clears his throat, trying his damnedest to steady his voice. he raises the box higher, the shining ring catching the light. “will you marry me?”

you’re nodding your head rapidly, taehyung’s desperately asking yes? is that a yes?, and then you’re both all over each other, clutching the other so tight the skin dips under white fingertips. he’s on your lap, arms and legs wrapped around you like a koala, and at this point he’s sobbing into your shoulder, relief crashing into him as real and vivid as a tsunami.

only once the tears turn to laughter, and the laughter turns to flushed, loving smiles, do you pull away. his cheeks are puffy and pink.

“hey,” you say with a breathless laugh, resting your temples together. “you still haven’t answered my proposal.”

he giggles, a little delirious with joy, and nods. he squeezes your shoulders. “yes! yes, i’ll marry you.”

your smile brightens, if possible. he sits back, still in your lap, and both of you pick up your dropped boxes. “how do we do this?” he asks softly.

“well, i proposed first, so i’ll give the ring first.” 

he holds out his left hand, fingers splayed delicately outward, and bites his lip in a partial attempt to stop smiling so widely. it’s beginning to ache a little, but if he’s hurting because he’s so overwhelmed with happiness, it can’t be all that bad.

you take his hand – it feels so surreal – and slide the silver ring onto his finger against his knuckle. it sits there, the sun flaring off of the diamond’s faceted faces, and declares your love for him as loud as possible.

it’s a miracle nobody’s really caught on to your relationship yet. sure, there’ve been rumours and grainy zoomed-in pictures circulating in corners of the internet for years, but nothing substantial. now, however, with this glowing proclamation, taehyung is blissfully taken.

he slips the ring he chose for you onto your left hand, his fingers lingering as he brushes over your matching silver bands in awe. it feels like a dream, happening so quickly and without warning. 

you both had the same kind of idea concerning rings – in such busy, active lives, you can’t afford to have it catching on things. while the two have diamonds embedded in them, neither have sharp edges sticking out. they’re bold, with thick bands, and they certainly aren’t meant for anything secretive. they’re there, they’re loud, and so incredibly proud.

“do i have the right to call you ‘hubby’ now?” taehyung asks, his voice a little wobbly.

“yeah, i think you do—” you chuckle “—hubby.”

he gasps abruptly, eyes flying open as he stares at you. “oh – oh, we have to plan a wedding! we have to invite our families, and the members, and get to taste a million cakes and wines and we’ll have a little cake-topper with the two of us and—”

“baby.”

“we have to choose outfits – i’ve always wanted to walk down the aisle, can i have a cape? hyung, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve wanted to marry you, oh, i think i’m going to cry again—”

“my love.” you cup his face in your hands – gently, but firmly. “let’s not get too ahead with ourselves. how about after your tour? we can stress about the balloon colours and flower types after that, yeah?”

he sniffles, holding your wrists loosely. “o-okay.” after a moment, he whispers hopefully, “so, can i wear a cape?”

you laugh, nodding and pressing your forehead to his collar. taehyung smiles broadly at the sound, his body light and floaty and tingly all over with insurmountable joy. life won’t be easy after this – for he refuses to hide anymore – and people will surely object, but he swears – he swears on this with everything he has – that as long as he can come home to you at the end of the day, he would do it all one thousand times over.

[loafslibrary]

Burn - Bruno Madrigal X Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Word count:

5960 words

Description:

Alma approaches the Ruiz family in the market about Bruno’s vision of his and their daughters marriage. 

It doesn’t go well to say the least.

But when all hope is lost, the family are visited by the last person they expect to see.

Her...

Theme/Category:

Slow burn, angst, romance, star-crossed lovers?, pining

Warnings:

Sexual/+18 content mentioned and to come in later chapters, judgemental family members, profanity, mentions of pregnancy.

Authors Note/s:

Thank you so much for the support of the first chapter! I’m having so much fun writing this! Now that I am taking my time to write these and I’m not sticking to a schedule I’m very happy with how my writing is now!

Also, I have set up a ko-fi ( Ko-fi.com/loafslibrary ) if you would like to donate/tip me for my work. It is never expected, but it will always be appreciated!

Previously mentioned: I’m not Colombian, so I apologise if I get any phrases or cultural points wrong, I have tried my best and done research while writing theses chapters, but if anything is wrong I do apologise.

Reader in this uses she/her pronouns and is AFAB

- 🍞

Eye meets in that short instant

The moment all senses stop

Little tremors spread inside me

For the first time I am swallowed by the feeling

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Mi Mariposa,

I can still remember the first time I saw you. How I’d thought I’d gone to heaven, because Infront of me was an angel. Someone so perfect, I was sure I wasn’t worthy of your love. Even now I must question if I truly deserve someone as special as you.

How I long to have you in my arms, to kiss you. I wish to be by your side every second of every day just in order to bask in your beautiful glow. Mi vida, you have no idea how much my soul yearns for you.

You make me feel as though I’m living in a dream. A dream I never wish to wake up from.

I wish to have you here with me now, so I could tell you this in person.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

The extended olive branch of peace hadn’t gone as smoothly as the family had hoped.

When Alma originally approached the family in the market with the proposal of an arranged marriage between their daughter and Bruno, Santino Ruiz had almost lost his cool.

“So, now our family name is good enough?”, he had scoffed, not even looking the woman in the eyes. Sofía, his wife, had smacked his shoulder, scolding him to at least be civil with the woman after everything they had done for their community.

“I’m sorry Alma, my husband-“, she began to stutter out apologies. Sofía was a sweet woman. She always had been. It just so happened that the man she had fallen in love with wasn’t.

“It’s okay Sofía, I understand that I’ve hurt him in the past”, she soothed, taking the smaller woman’s hands in her own with an understanding smile. The slightly younger woman smiled back as a silent thank you, her eyes wrinkling at the corners as age had begun to catch up with her youthful looks, while her husband tutted and looked the other way. Alma remembered her from before the Encanto, before her and Santino had married. She had always been the quiet and shy type growing up. Alma remembered how Sofía had looked up to her; asking how the older girl thought she should style her hair, doing the same activities as her, always staying close by at any festivals.

“So, why our daughter?”, She asked.

“My Bruntio used his gift and had a vision. The vision showed him marrying your daughter and the two of them living a beautiful life together”. Sofía swooned at the news, the whole idea already sounding more romantic than anything she had ever heard. “The vision promised prosperity, good health, grandchildren-“, Sofía audibly gasped, a wide smile spreading across her lips. This sounded like a fairy tale to her; her daughter marrying into the most powerful family in the Encanto, the pair being happy and showered in blessings, it was more than she could have ever asked for. For her daughter to live a happy and healthy life. What Alma was saying had completely captivated her, so much to the point where she hadn’t even noticed her husband’s building rage until it was too late.

“I will not have your son dirtying our bloodline!”, he spat, standing tall over the two women. “That boy is a bad omen. I highly doubt he saw all these things in his vision. It’s probably all just a lie to get someone to marry him, since no one else wants to marry that pendejo”. Alma flinched in shock and Sofía’s eyes widened at her husband’s comment.

“Santino! Don’t say that! You’re making a scene”.

“Escúchame Sofía, what can that boy offer her? She would be limited in life if she married him! And should they have children- No lo permita dios- They would be every bit as much of a freak as their father!”. The man’s shoulders were tense, his breaths heavier than usual, clearly and truly bothered by this conversation. He took his wife gently by the elbow and began to guide her away from the market and the matriarch of the Madrigals.

“They are not freaks, Santino. Their gifts are blessings! Look at our community! Look at what they’ve all done for us!”, Sofía pleaded for her husband to open his eyes, gesturing around them at the bustling community. “We are thriving thanks to the Madrigals”.

“And how has Bruno helped?”, he snapped back. His wife wouldn’t often stand up to him, but she knew in her mind and in her heart that he was wrong.

“He has helped to keep us safe and out of danger with his visions! He has allowed us to spend time with our loved ones when there wasn’t much time left! And now he has told Alma that there is a possibility for our daughter to have the honour of being part of their amazing family! So why can’t you open your heart and forgive the past-”, Sofía then flinched as her husband stood in front of her, blocking their path and glowering down his nose at her.

“Don’t you dare insult me like that!”. This now caused some others at the market to turn their head, wanting to know what this sudden outburst was all about. Sofía couldn’t blame them, it was a small village and people wanted something to talk about. Noticing this, Santino cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “We’ll discuss this when we get home Sofía, I don’t want the whole Encanto listening in on our conversation”. With that, he left and began walking in the direction of their house.

Sofía’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. She turned to Alma with sad apologetic eyes. “Alma, lo siento. I wish he would learn-…”, she sighed, rubbing her eyes in irritation, attempting to distract herself from the drama that had just unfolded.

“It’s okay Sofía. Brunito’s prophecies always come true. I’m sure he’ll come around eventually”, Alma’s eyes met the other woman’s finally. They exchanged a silent thank you to one another; Sofia’s being a thank you for extending such an offer to her daughter and their family, Alma’s being a thank you for someone other than her familia standing up for Bruno for once. “Give him time, Chica”. The younger mother nodded, and with that, the two went their separate ways.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

I can’t go back to the way it was

You didn’t know me, After I bumped into you

I become craving you more,

Uncontrollably

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

It had been three days.

Three days since that fiasco with the Ruiz family.

The Madrigals had noticed a few murmurs and whispers throughout the Encanto of a possible engagement involving the youngest of the triplets. Nothing scandalous, nothing more than ripples in their calm ocean. Yet they all still hoped that those ripples didn’t grow into waves, or anything worse.

Bruno had reverted back to his usual self, that flicker of hope that he was so desperately clinging onto, the flicker of hope that Julieta and the rest of the family wanted to see ignite into something more, was now burning out. For the past two days he hadn’t left his room other than to eat. He had two visitors the other day, asking for visions. One left after noticing the number of stairs leading to where the male resided, and the other left more confused than when they had entered. That had been the only communication Bruno had had with the outside world since the incident.

“I can’t say I’m surprised”, Pepa lamented as she sipped her espresso, a small grey cloud forming over her head. The two couples of the family were sat outside enjoying the sunshine while they had the chance. “I just knew Santino wouldn’t give him a chance”, she muttered into her cup.

“I thought you didn’t want him to pursue the Ruiz, yet you’re sounding a little disappointed Pepa”, Agustín pointed out with a teasing grin, pushing his glasses up his nose to prevent them from slipping of his face and into his own drink.

“Because I knew this would happen”, she corrected him, taking another sip of her drink. “This is the last thing Bruno needs right now”.

“Chico’s been even quieter than usual” Félix joined the conversation, a scowl settling across his brows, which looked out of place on his usually happy features. “I tried talking to him about it all, but he insisted he was okay and to not worry”. Félix shook his head. Despite not being a blood relative and finding the younger man a little unsettling at times with some of his visions, he saw Bruno as a younger brother. All he wanted was the best for him, like the rest of the family.

Pepa let out a groan of frustration and massaged her temples, eyes closed as she tried to focus on not creating a thunderstorm. “He may have ruined my wedding- and believe me, I will not let that go, but he is my brother. I still want him to be happy and the Ruiz family is not what will bring him happiness”. Julieta bit her lip in thought as she listened to her sister. Perhapse she was right? Maybe instead of encouraging this vision they should try to stomp it out. Brush it under the rug and pretend it never happened. But any time she thought of telling Bruno to ignore the vision and try to change fate, her heart clenched. The memories of how optimistic he had looks and how he had smiled when looking at the vision, as though he were already in love with the woman in the vison.

Agustín noticed his wife’s distress and gently too her hand in his own under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looked over to him, noticing the love in his gaze that still gave her butterflies. “Bruno’s visions have never been wrong before. Perhaps we just need to give this one some time”, Agustín reassured the group. He always knew what to say to put Julieta’s nerves to rest.

“Let’s discuss something else”, Pepa waved her hand, signalling the group to move onto another topic. She was the one to usually determine how the conversations progressed out of fear of possibly flooding the Encanto with a down pour of rain or a sudden hurricane making its way through the village due to a bad conversation topic. “So, have the two of you thought about children yet?”, she asked, glancing between her sister and Agustín as she leant forward on the table, eager to hear their response. “You know how I’ve always wanted to be Tía Pepa”.

The couple exchanged glances, unsure on how to respond. They hadn’t given it much thought. For now, they were just enjoying being in love, being married. They were just enjoying their lives. Obviously, they had thought about children, and how could they not when Alma was so desperate to become an abuela. Yet, they were in no rush to have children. “Well, we’ve… thought about it”, Agustín chuckled awkwardly, feeling a little put on the spot with Pepa’s question. “Perhaps two or three would be nice”.

“We’ve also thought about three, maybe four”, Félix winked Pepa’s way, causing her to flush and the sun to shine brighter. Julieta couldn’t help but giggle at her sisters reaction to Félix’s goofy antics. Pepa was fanning herself in order to cool her flustered state when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, and her jaw dropped.

It took a moment for the others to follow the woman’s line of sight, but before long their eyes also settled on what was causing the sister to stare slack jawed into the distance.

It was her. The woman from Bruno’s vision.

She herself was a vision and no one could deny that.

She wore a burgundy long skirt that was embroidered with red carnations with jade green stems, leaves and vines which fluttered elegantly in the breeze as she approached the casita. Her white shirt had matching green trimming with sleeves that came down to her elbows and she wore simple pearl drop earrings. She was prettier in person than in the vision.

“Is that-…”, Félix began, wanting to make sure he was seeing who he thought it was, and that he and the rest of the family weren’t having some sort of strange fever dreaming.

“That’s her”, Julieta stood up out of her seat, buzzing with excitement. What was she doing here? Was she here to see Bruno? She must be here to see Bruno! What else would she be here for?

The young woman’s attention turned from the castita to the family sitting on the patio, a little stunned to notice everyone staring at her.

So that’s why she had felt she was being watched.

It almost felt as though she were a main performer at a carnival. She cautiously made her way over to where the family sat at their table, fiddling with her fingers nervously as she grew closer and closer. “Hola, mucho gusto”, she greeted with a nervous smile. She could already feel her palms growing sweaty and her mouth going dry, and she couldn’t help but mentally curse for pushing herself into this situation. She noted the wide eyes and silence in response to her greeting, knowing she was probably the last person the Madrigals expected to see after hearing of her father’s outburst in the market. “I’m here to see Bruno, and possibly speak with your mother, Señora Alma Madrigal?”.

“A-Ah! Yes! Of course!”, Julieta stuttered out springing into action, quickly followed by the others who did the same, Agustín almost knocking over the table in the process. “Please, have a seat! We’ll fetch Bruno. Would you like anything to eat? Perhaps a drink?”, the eldest triplet offered as casita pulled out a chair for the lady. Before the Ruiz could respond, Julieta was already heading to the kitchen to retrieve some coffee for her.

Meanwhile, the others had sprinted into the home, looking as if they had all gone mad. “I’ll find Mamá. You two get Bruno. Vamos!”, Pepa ordered before the trio charged up their stairs and split off in separate directions; Agustín and Félix heading straight for Bruno’s tower.

The pair burst through the door, sending a loud bang echoing through the cave, causing the man they were searching for to practically jump out of his skin. “Bruno!”, they both yelled out, scrambling for the multiple flights of stone stairs. “Bruno!”, they continued to call, already panting heavily as they tried their best to make it up as many of the steps as they could, Félix falling behind slightly while Agustín charged full steam ahead. Finally, Bruno appeared at the top of the stairs, looking sick with worry, expecting the worst of news due to the state they were both in.

“Que esta pasando?”, he asked as he began to descend the stairs, being able to take multiple steps at a time due to making the same trip day in and day out. His body and muscle memory taking over on instinct to prevent him from slipping.

“She’s here! She’s here!- To see you!”, they panted heavily.

“Wait-wait-wait! Who’s here?”.

That was when he heard her name once again and he felt every one of his hairs stand on end, like an electric current was sent through his entire being.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

As if I have dreamed in a dream

I’m lost looking for you

You are the dream I live in, the dream I can never awake from

Every day and night I’m gon’ chase you

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

From there, it felt like the three men were kicked into overdrive.

They all practically threw themselves down the stairs, eventually making it safely to the bottom. They threw open the door to Bruno’s room, getting temporarily stuck as they all attempted to squeeze through the doorframe at once in their over excited state. They hurried along the hall and down the stairs before Félix without warning grabbed Bruno by the hood of his ruana, causing him to choke slightly and to fall to the floor at the sudden halt of movement. “You can’t let her see you like that! You’ve got to look more presentable!”, he scolded and began to wrack his fingers through the others loose ringlets, causing the younger male to wince and yelp in pain, batting the other’s hand away.

“And what about those bags under your eyes?”, Agustín added, stroking his chin in thought, before trying to press his fingers into the skin under his eyes and massage the dark circles away. “Maybe this will help”, the thought out loud.

“You two aren’t helping”, Bruno grumbled, finally breaking free from his two brothers grasps.

“What are you three doing?”, Alma’s voice made their spines straighten, each of them turning to her and standing to attention like soldiers. “Brunito, you don’t want to keep her waiting”, she brushed a few curls out of his face before her hand rested on her son’s cheek before using a pout to point in the direction leading outside to where she sat with his sisters. Bruno smoothed out his clothes, having been practically tackled by his cuñados, before taking a deep breath and heading to where he could hear the group’s voices coming from.

Hers stood out to him instantly, like a glistening emerald pendant. He couldn’t even see her, yet he already found her perfect. Perhaps he was getting a little carried away. He needed to calm down. He took another deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands in hopes to distract himself from his growing nerves. This only added to his nerves when he noticed how sweaty his hands had become. Why was he so sweaty? What if she wanted to hold his hand?!

As he made his way outside, he first noticed his sisters; Pepa leaning back in her chair, her eyes narrowed and her gaze intense as she stared down her nose at the other. She usually did this when talking to someone she disliked, yet she seemed to be giving her a chance, which Bruno would take as a positive any day of the week. Julieta on the other hand was chatting away, giggling and laughing, making small talk in order to make the newcomer feel welcome. She was always good at making others feel welcome- feel wanted, which was one of the many reasons why Bruno loved his sister.

And then he saw her. In the flesh. She was real.

Her eyes flited up and met his and he could feel his throat tighten, for a moment, he was breathless. The sun kissed her skin, highlighting all her features, every pore, every minor detail, and everything about her was beautiful. Everything felt surreal. It was like a dream. He didn’t expect to ever be face-to-face with the girl of his vision, his dream partner, or at least, this is who she was supposed to be.

The two stood in silence, both a little stunned finally being in each other’s presence, mouths slightly agape in shock as if one were about to say something but thought better of it.

This caused the family to smile; Julieta giggling softly as she looked over to her sister and mother in excitement, whereas Agustín nudged Félix, both of them laughing silently together as the fact that they had never seen their brother-in-law act this way around a woman. The Ruiz noticed the other’s reactions at the fact that they had just been gawking at each other in front of everyone, and quickly averted her gaze with a crimson blush spreading across her cheeks. Noticing her flustered state though only made Bruno’s heart race.

“Ay dios, eres tan hermosa”, he foolishly forgot himself and muttered under his breath, only for it to be his turn to flush a deep red as he realised, he had said that out loud. Thankfully, it seemed to be quiet enough for no one else to hear.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, dear”, Alma took the lead in the conversation since it currently seemed as though her son couldn’t string a sentence together in his dazed state. Each member took a seat at the table, purposely leaving the seat next to the Ruiz open for Bruno. He quickly sat himself down upon noticing the rest of the family doing so, glancing to his side to catch a glimpse of her. He didn’t want to be rude or stare, but he couldn’t help but want to look at her. “I’m assuming you’re hear about the engagement!”, Alma urged on the conversation.

Bruno swallowed thickly, his Adams apple bobbing with the motion, and he tried to breathe as evenly as he could. He didn’t want to appear nervous, but right now he couldn’t stop the subtle bouncing of his leg that was giving him away. He was glad this was hidden beneath the table, out of sight. Though he didn’t seem to be the only anxious one at the table. Glancing over to his side, he noticed the Ruiz’s hands clutching and fiddling with her skirt. It was just out of sight of everyone else, but knowing she felt the same was somewhat comforting. He knew he was not alone.

“Ah, yes. The engagement”, she began softly, with a small smile. “First of all, I would like to apologize for my father’s behaviour”. Upon hearing this, Pepa’s eyebrows shot up to the point the family thought they would end up in her hairline. “What he said was unkind to say the least and I want you to know that it was unacceptable and I’m sorry for him acting in such a way”.

“A Ruiz apologising… I never thought I’d see the day”, Pepa mumbled to herself causing Félix to laugh and nudge her shoulder playfully, earning a gentle eyeroll and a small smirk in return. It was a silent ‘I may have been too quick to judge’.

“Ah, well, we appreciate and accept your apology”, Alma beamed, briefly looking to the rest of the family before turning her attention back to the woman next to her son. “And since you’re here, I’m assuming your father has agreed to your marriage?”, she asked, guesturing between the two.

“Well, not exactly…he’s still considering”, she confessed, looking down at the tablecloth, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone at the table. “But my mother has given her blessing”. Alma nodded her head, showing her understanding of the situation, the rest of the family just staring on in shock. “I guess today I’m hear because I would like to get to know Bruno a little better before we make any final decisions”, she stated clearly before finally turning to address the man next to her for the first time; “If that’s okay with you of course, Bruno”.

The way she said his name put him in a trance. He didn’t know his name could sound so sweet. His hazel eyes stared at her for a moment, forgetting that it was him who she was addressing, before blinking a few times to ground himself back into reality. “Oh! Me? - I mean- Of course!”, he stammered, offering a smile which his sisters picked up on. It wasn’t his usual sad or pained smile that they would often see while he tried to save face with the village people or the few times he was witnessing other’s good fortune in the visions they had asked for. This smile was like a breath of fresh air. It was shy. It was somewhat vulnerable. It was genuine.

Their guest couldn’t help the corners of her lips curling up to match Bruno’s expression, averting her gaze as she could feel her cheeks growing warm again.

Alma couldn’t say she was too pleased at the news of the two wanting to get to know each other before agreeing to their marriage. She was growing impatient as Bruno was nearing thirty and was still unmarried, as well as her still did not having a single grandchild weighing on her mind. But she would allow it. This vision showed the two being happily married together, so she was sure they would happily accept the marriage offer soon. “I don’t see why not. It will be good to spend some time together, to lessen the nerves before the engagement”, Alma agreed.

Upon hearing this, Bruno noticed Ruiz’s muscles relax, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly as she let out a breath she seemed to be holding for who knows how long. It was sweet. Somewhat endearing. He liked the fact that she wanted to actually know who he was, instead of making assumptions about him through the rumours and lies the Encanto told about him. It made him feel like she wanted to marry him for more than just the magic their children would inherit. Like she wanted to marry him for who he was. “So, tell me, what is it that you do in the Encanto? I’m aware your father builds houses for a living. I must say, your family’s home is very impressive”, Alma then interjected, steering the conversation back to how their marriage would benefit each other and the community.

“Well, from time to time I help design the layouts of the houses and help with the interior, but my true passion is the arts”, the young woman confessed, a little embarrassed as she knew her strengths weren’t necessarily seen as useful. Although Bruno’s ears perked up at the mention of this. “I love to paint murals for people in the community, I also like to write stories in my free time. During festivals I enjoy singing and dancing”, she began to ramble on, her very being practically glowing with love for her hobbies, before she caught herself, shrinking back a little as she worried that she was leaving a bad impression. “Ah, but they are just what I do when I’m not helping the family business”

“That sounds wonderful! You’re like a social butterfly with how you engage with the community”, Julieta complimented their guest, Alma nodding along in approval as she thought this possible newcomer to the family may help to bring Bruno out of his shell a little more. He had always been such a shy boy and with his gift and how the people of the Encanto spoke about him, it had only made him recede more into himself.

The Ruiz flashed a tight smile in response. “Muchas gracias. Although I do enjoy time to myself too. I believe it’s important to find a healthy balance between the two”.

“Such wise words. And how old are you?”, Alma continued with her questions, wanting to gain as much information on her son’s possible future bride. She wanted to guarantee that this vision Bruno had wasn’t false and that this engagement wasn’t going to be a waste of time. She wanted to know that this woman would be the perfect match for her son.

“I’m twenty-two”. Her response caused Bruno’s breath to catch in his throat for a moment. There was a six-year age gap. He didn’t mind so much. It could have been worse. But he couldn’t help his mind jumping ahead of time and thinking of how he would soon start to age. His hair would begin to grey, his skin would start to wrinkle, not to mention he already had bags under his eyes from multiple sleepless nights. He didn’t want to have to burden a beautiful woman like her with being with an older man. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind? She seemed interested in the engagement.  “I’m surprised you haven’t married yet. Bruno, aren’t you surprised that a man hasn’t asked for her hand in marriage?”, his mother’s words brought him crashing back down to earth.

The table was watching him, eagerly awaiting his response. It was clear that his mother had noticed his lack of confidence and how he had barely said anything to the woman since she got here. The woman to his side’s cheeks began burning a deep shade of red. Which his own then seemed to match as he floundered to compliment her and make conversation.

“O-Of course I’m surprised”, the seer agreed with his mother, trying his best to look the woman in the eyes as he spoke. “I mean, you’re very beautiful. Any man would be lucky to call you his wife”, he mumbled, his heart pounding against his ribs as he dragged his fingers through his curls.

‘Pull yourself together Bruno! You’re a mess!’

His heart stopped for a second as he heard a soft, “And any woman would be lucky to call you her husband”, and then his heart practically melted.  

‘Dios mio, ella es perfecto’

His mother and relatives smiled proudly at the simple interaction; Felix squeezed Pepa’s hand and gave her a nod of approval, signalling that he approved of the union, and Julieta looked to Agustín with a giddy grin of excitement. They were so excited, practically bursting with pride for Bruno. Upon noticing this though, Bruno could feel a knot forming in his stomach.

‘Don’t mess this up, Bruno’

Simple conversations continued to flow into the late afternoon. Questions on how the Ruiz planned to further help the community if she were to marry into the Madrigal family, how long did she think it would be until she could get the approval of her father, when the wedding should take place if the engagement were accepted, etc. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits as a warm sunset washed over the Encanto.

“Brunito, it’s getting late. Why don’t you walk our guest home to make sure she returns safely”, Alma suggested to which her son nodded in response with a tight smile, slightly nervous at the idea of being alone with the Ruiz daughter, but also relieved he would be able to speak to her without the pressure of his family watching. He was sure they could both do with five minutes away from everyone, where they weren’t on edge thinking every other question to come out of their mouth would be about how many children they wanted or his mother possibly commenting on how they should abstain from sex until marriage.

Alma stood up from her seat and made her way over to the two. She took the young woman by the hands and gently held them in her own. “You seem like such a sweet girl. I’m sure you would make my Brunito proud to call you his wife.  I’m sure if your parents are to accept the engagement offer, you and my son with live a life full of blessings and prosperity”.

“Gracias Señora. Thank you all for being such generous hosts”, the Ruiz thanked the Madrigals before Bruno cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

I’m in love

I’m dreaming in a dream every night

I’m in love

I’m dreaming in a dream every night

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

The walk through the village was a little awkward to begin, both parties not knowing how to strike up a conversation with the other. They knew little to nothing about each other yet had this prophecy of their engagement looming over them. It was daunting to say the least.

As they walked through the streets, the Madrigal couldn’t help but notice the curious eyes that watched them from a distance. Whispers of surprise flitted in and out of earshot, talking about how they were surprised to see the two together, which only caused the seer to grow more tense… until a thought hit him.

He remembered Agustín mentioning that the woman liked the arts, as well as recalling what she had said at the table.

“So, you like the arts?”, he finally broke the lingering silence, which instantly captured her attention.

“Yes, I do”, she giggled a little awkwardly, feeling silly for talking about her passions but yet she was happy that one of them had finally decided to speak up, easing the tension that hung in the air. “Do you?”.

At this question, Bruno’s spirits began to rise. “Yes, I do. I love to write when I get the chance”, he explained with that genuine smile that seemed to grace his features a lot more frequently. “I enjoy singing and music too, although I am not the best. I’m not so good with dancing though. Perhaps I could be better with some practice”, he mumbled the last part. His sisters were beautiful dancers. Every festival, every party, they were dancing up a storm. Yet he seemed to be a little clumsier with his movements and often stuck to the side-lines. That or the moves just didn’t look right when he tried it.

“Perhaps I could help you with the dancing?”, she offered, which caught Bruno by surprise. “I’d also love to exchange stories with you and see how you write. I enjoy dramas, romances, horror and comedy”.

“That’s an interesting mixture”, Bruno noted with a small chuckle which she then seemed to mirror with one of her own. “And yeah… that sounds quite nice actually”.

Before long, the pair had reached the Ruiz house on the edge of the village.

“Well, here we are! La casa de Ruiz!”, he announced in a somewhat goofy tone, causing the other to laugh a little, and oh how her laugh was music to his ears.

“Thank you for walking me home, Bruno. I’m excited to learn more about you”, she revealed, playing with her hands nervously as she spoke, which Bruno then noticed he was mirroring her movements with his own hands, stopping once he noticed.

“I’m excited to learn more about you too…”, he trailed off, leaving them both standing in silence, not knowing what to say but desperately wanting to continue the conversation.

She began to turn towards the door to her home. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go-“.

“Would you like to see me tomorrow? I-I mean, would you like me to- I would very much like to see you again-“, Bruno cringed at his rambling. His mouth had begun moving before he could even truly think of what he wanted to say. He took a breath and tried to arrange his thoughts and think logically, but that was near impossibly when she was around. “Would you like to meet me tomorrow afternoon?”.

Bruno’s eyes met with her own once again and he felt- for a lack of better words- helpless. He wanted this to work, with every fibre of his being. He wanted to try for her. There was just something about her that made him want to try. She was so beautiful and gave off such a kind-hearted aura. He didn’t want to miss this opportunity.

He noticed how she bit her lip in thought for a brief moment before a smile graced her features once more. The sight of her smile gave him butterflies and he cursed himself, wondering if a man should fall for a woman so quickly.

“Yes, I’d actually really like that. Shall we meet buy the church just past mid-day?’, she offered with such a sweet tone to her voice, like honey, that Bruno felt as though he could completely fall in love with her at any second.

His heart began to hammer with excitement.

“Yes!”, he agreed a little too quickly. “I-I mean, that sounds great”, he added in a calmer tone, smoothing out his ruana as a distraction for his eagerness. The couple stared at each other for a moment, cheeks aglow and their nerves mixed with excitement struggling to be hidden.

“Perfecto! It’s a date!”.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Tag list: @simpingfortheratman @danny-devitowo

[forbidding-souda]

Hey again may I request s/o receiving gifts from their partner on white day ?, with the trigger happy havoc boys pls. ( xD I'm sorry I think you'll have to research again xP lol.) - 🐺

Receiving gifts from TTH boys on white day

i am overly pining for that man i sleep on at peets like every day. i'm gonna miss him. it's winter break now so i willnt be seeing him for awhile and i'm like gahh

oh my god what if i got him something for valentines day.. wdjsnmnndhhhhdhhhshh

i wish white day existed in america yatzee

i learned how to do a french inhale as i was writing this also this took me 6 hours yatzee LMFAO I'M STUCK A SLOW WORKER

-Mod Souda

Mondo Oowada

❤ Giving him gifts is easy. Anything from temporary tattoos to a bottle of fizz gets him all lovey-dovey and excited. He will be surprised and thankful for anything you give him.

❤ His gifts are completely stolen, curtsey of the fact that even if he did try to buy something he would most likely be denied service.

❤ He loves wrapping them and putting them in boxes. Special occasions: winter holidays, your birthday, white day, he looks forward to them so he can spoil you with reason.

❤ Even if you gave him one gift, he's giving you many. He'll give you your favorite candy along with pocky (just an excuse to kiss you).

❤ Literally half of your relationship is the art of gift giving. Outside of physical touch, it's probably his to-go love language.

❤ Spends the whole day with you. His friends can wait; you're his first priority always.

.

Leon Kuwata

❤ You had been so hesitant to even give him a gift - he must receive dozens. You knew all the girls who wish they were in your place try to swoon him by buying him shit. It doesn't matter all that much to you. He is openly annoyed by them, anyway.

❤ You gave him his favorite chocolates (something those girls definitely wouldn't have known about) and a music book: guitar sheet music from his favorite old rock bands. His smile when he received them was all you could have ever asked for. He put his arm around your shoulder and rested his head against yours. It was affection - affection that usually was not as tender.

❤ Trying to be humble, you told him that you didn't mind him not giving anything back for you. You had made jokes about how he should spend all his money giving gifts to the dozens of girls instead - but he'd just wave you off and repeat that they are not as important as you.

"You bring it up too much for it not to be bothering you," he had pointed out, drying his hair with a towel after a shower. The steam had fogged the window and you were fighting the urge to draw shapes into it.

"I just think it's funny."

He gives you a side glance.

❤ He woke you up with a smoothie on that March 14th, pushing the cold glass against your cheek to wake you up. You had glared at him when you finally realized he was bothering you on purpose - but he had said this is the first part of your gift. So you allowed yourself to get up.

❤ The second part of the gift came much later. Throughout the day you were wondering if it would be something shocking, something worth the wait. What could he have possibly done? You wondered if he wrote you a song or bought you tickets to a show. But those things are given; not worth the anticipation.

❤ Finally, he told you to close your eyes and stick out your hand. You face your palm up and once you shut your eyes he flipped your hand over. It makes your lips twitch into a smile. When you feel something slip onto your ring finger you open your eyes immediately.

"This isn't a proposal!" He clarifies instantly. "It's a couple's ring - look, do you like it?"

On his finger, next to the other rings, is a silver band that matches yours.

"The inside has our names in it."

You eye it, smiling and nodding your head. "Thank you so much. I love it." And this is way more... worthy than what you got him.

.

Byakuya Togami

❤ He could get almost anything in the world. You know this - and it makes gift giving hard. Still, he enjoys whatever you give him, not genuinely but enough to make you feel content with his reaction. He doesn't degrade you for giving him shit and that's all that matters.

❤ You were surprised he even brought up White Day. He asked you if you would prefer he celebrate it, and you said sure. That was your word: sure. He grunted at your informality.

❤ The question for what to get you was as daunting as you wondering what to get him. You also could get anything in the world, though he is hesitant to treat you with such a lavish way of living. He tries to remember what you talk about - fandom wise. Are there rare collectibles?

❤ He spent a lot of effort into researching for this gift. Like ten minutes in he sat back down in his chair and put a hand on his forehead. I'm really in love.

❤ He had one of the servants wrap the gift. He's not that hands-on.

❤ But he made sure to wait until half the day passed before he handed it to you. The box was big, which surprised you, and you tried to hide your smile as you opened it. And you were surprised. So he does listen to you when you talk. The first thing you noticed was the cd, an album that recently came out, with writing on it. He had gotten the artist to sign it for you. And it even had your name. Underneath was a simple stuffed bear holding a heart. Engraved in it were the words be mine.

"I'll be yours."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead. "I know."

Ishimaru Kiyotaka

❤ When you gave him his gift, his cheeks were burning pink and he was stuttering like crazy. One thing ran through his mind: what am I going to get them in return? It stressed him out beyond belief.

❤ You would often find him in great thought, staring off into the distance, mumbling to himself and squinting. You eventually stopped trying to break him out of it.

❤ A part of you knew this would happen if you got him a gift. No matter how simple it was, he needed to repay you somehow.

"Rise and shine!" He pushed you over in the bed, rolling you over, taking the blanket away from you. You whine his name and rub your eyes. He is already fully dressed; his hair is brushed and his eyes are alive.

"Why?"

"I made us a reservation!"

"For breakfast?"

He nods, leaning over your body, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. "The most important meal of the day."

❤ In the beginning of your relationship, you tried to get closer to him by asking him to tutor you. You always picked this restaurant - sitting across from him in this lighting was a blessing. He is beautiful.

❤ This was your gift - along with a book, one that the two of you can fill out together, a questionare of sorts. And the two of you linger over it like it's a textbook, reminding you of old times, where even back then he was madly in love with you, reciprocated.

.

Yasuhiro Hagakure

❤ Wait - you're actually giving him something? But the two of you are already together. You still have to get each other stuff?

"You don't have to if you don't want to, love." You had laughed, noticing his stress immediately.

"No - no no." He opened his mouth to say more, but when nothing came, you spoke over him.

"Don't worry about it."

Afterward, he had simply grumbled to himself and scratched his chin.

❤ Whenever he thinks about gifts, he can only think about things that he wants. You - what are your interests? The two of you watch movies together, that's a start, have there been movies you liked more than others?

❤ He found himself fishing through your closet. A shirt, he decided. He'll give you a shirt.

❤ A shirt for that movie you made him watch a couple of times. Every time, you had quoted some of the lines, smiling as you did so.

❤ And when he gives you the shirt - it's in a tiny little bag, one with your name written on it with sharpie. He looks so nervous that you just want to melt into his arms. You make sure to show your appreciation, as you know this has been particularly stressful for him.

.

Makoto Naegi

❤ He went to ask Kirigiri what to do. You gave him a gift for Valentine's Day and then said he doesn't need to return the favor - is this a trick? She tells him to do it anyway, as she suspects you're just trying to be generous.

❤ Which is correct.

❤ He considers himself someone who's good at giving gifts. He'll try to give someone something that's less obvious - something that they wouldn't know they wanted otherwise.

❤ But with you, it's hard, because he knows everything you like and everything you don't like. How can he surprise you?

❤ But maybe it's not about the surprise - and just that he has gifted you something in general. He thinks about this stuff too much.

❤ So he settles with a shit load of stuff. Like a goodie bag, almost. It has candles, snacks, love letters, stickers and gift cards. He didn't know what specificall you wanted so he just got you a bunch of stuff.

.

Hifumi Yamada

❤ His gifts do not come in physical form, but rather writing, where he creates a whole novel of you in your favorite fictional world. He knows you so well, and he's amazing are characterization - everything plays out exactly how you imagined in your head.

❤ This is his to-go thing. Outside of that, he will cook a simple meal for the two of you, or the two of you can draw together. He'll take pictures of you trying on his glasses, print them, and tape them inside of one of his writing journals.

"Do you enjoy them that much?" You ask, a bit self conscious, looking at the photos as he takes out the tape.

"Why, of course! You look absolutely ravishing."

The corner of your mouth raises in a shrug, but you just know that he loves you a lot, as if he doesn't show it all the time anyway.

.

Chihiro Fujisaki

❤ Mostly, every single time he goes outside, you are there with him. So buying you a present was actually rather difficult. He eventually just had to say I'm going to find you a present for white day and took off, alone.

❤ Your Valentines Day gift to him was a fidget toy. You realized that whenever he was away from a computer, he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

❤ He wanted to get you something equally important.

❤ Him and his dad went together on White Day, pondering together. He got you a stuffed rabbit, just for how cute it looked. He also got you flowers, fitting those things (poorly) into a tiny little backpack, one that is your favorite color.

❤ He had you close your eyes when he came home. When he put the bag into your hand, you were surprised at how large the gift was.

"I was... unsure as to whether you would like it or not." He clasps his hands together, rubbing his thumb over the other.

You make a show of kissing the rabbit on the cheek. "It's amazing, I love it."

His worried eyes calm as he smiles.

[ira-dendrobium]

Asking for your parents blessing (Modern AU) Feat. Childe, Diluc, Kaeya x Fem!Reader.

You look at the time and look very nervous. Your lover is running late for your family dinner. You look over your parent's reaction. Your mother still looks excited as she keeps asking about this sweet young boy but your father has a scowl on his face.

“What kind of lover he is to make us wait?”

“Dear... Be patient. Maybe traffic is so bad on his way here. Besides you still not seeing the boy yet. Who knows maybe you going to like him?” Your mother tries to calm your father. He only grumbles.

“We wait for 5 more minutes. If he didn’t show up, we left.” Your father exclaims.

‘Come on... Where are you?’ You nervously look at the entrance. Soon the silhouette of the man shows up. Your face beams into a smile when you see your lover walk-in in the suit to the restaurant.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic is incredibly busy today. I hope I didn’t get into your bad side.” He politely greets your parent. You stand up and start to introduce him.

“Dad, Mom. This is my love that I keep talking about...”

Childe

He is wearing a formal suit while giving his best smile to your parents. Of course no forgetting about the gift.

Your mother is elated when seeing that your boyfriend is such a gentleman and successful too. (Childe brought the new set of jewelry plus a bag and new watch for your father. All is branded items)

Your father still has that scowl on his face. 

“You think you can buy our approval with this gift? Now, I got curious. What job do you work as?” Your father asks. Childe with a smile answered.

“I work as one of the executives of Sneznaya Corporation.”

Your mother gasp. “But you look so young! And Sneznaya corporation is the second biggest corporation in the world!”

“So what. I’m still not giving you my approval as my daughter's boyfriend.”

Childe immediately got serious. “Sir, I know that I’m still lacking in my aspect but I love your daughter. We have been together for so long. You maybe didn’t know this but we know each other since high school. She is one of the reasons, I can be this successful.” He grabs your hand. You blush at his statement.

“Maybe it’s time to open your heart, dear... Our girl is not little anymore.” said your mother. With a sigh, your father nods.

“Fine. But don’t think I will give you my full approval.”

“Thank you, sir. I make sure to take the other half later when I propose to marry her.” Childe said cheekily.

“YOU BRAT!”

“Dear! Calm down!”

Diluc

Diluc looks very nervous when he got near the table. He really questions is the right time? He plans to gain your parent's approval after dating you for 1 year straight and now it’s finally time.

“...Hello. My name is Diluc Ragvindir. Your daughter's boyfriend.” Diluc introduces himself and your mom gasp.

“Ragvindir?! Is that the big corporation that owns the largest wine production?”

“Yes.” Diluc answer. Your father put a disapproval look.

“What makes you think you are worthy of my daughter?” Your father asks.

“Dad!”

“No. It’s okay. I’m maybe not the perfect vision of the boyfriend you imagine. I’m awkward and may appear cold to you but... I care and love your daughter so much. I hope you can see that in our relationship and slowly approve it.” Diluc said. Your father's face softens.

“Fine... You make sure to take care of her. If not, I’m coming at your company with a gun.” said Your father. Diluc softy smile and mutter a thank you.

.

.

.

“Wow. Diluc. That is the most word you speak to others besides me.” You tease him after the serious talk. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Way to kill a mood, dear.”

“Hehe <3″

Kaeya 

For once, Kaeya comes in with a formal suit complete with his scarf. You are quite amazed to see your boyfriend come in without that kind of flirty suit.

“Good Evening dear sir and mam~. I’m sorry for making you wait.” He greets your parents with a charming smile. Your mother actually swoons at him.

“What a fine young man you are.” Your mother complimented but your father notice something weird about him.

“Aren’t you Kaeya Alberich? That playboy model?”

“My name is indeed Kaeya, sir. But I’m not a playboy...” Kaeya sweatdrop at your father's aggressive remark.

“Hmph! I doubt that. You always appear wearing that sexy outfit in the magazines. Y/n! I teach you better! Why must you choose this kind of man?” Your father continues his word.

“Dad-”

“Calm down, dear. I’m sorry, sir. If that photo in the magazine set our relationship in the wrong direction. That is simply a job demand that my agency gives me. I can prove to you that I’m not that kind of man. Your daughter is the only girl I ever let inside my heart.” Kaeya looks at you lovingly.

“I would do anything to gain your approval, sir.” 

“Even quit your job?” Your father asks.

“Yes,” Kaeya answered without any doubt. Your father and he have a little staring contest before with a huft your father look away.

“Fine. You have my approval for now. But I will be watching you, Young man. If you make my daughter shed tears, I make sure to destroy your carrier.”

“Noted. Thank you, kind sir.” He smiles before kissing your forehead.

“NO KISSING!”

.

.

You can become extra sweet for me by giving me a tip.

Kofi link.

[disasterofastory]

Disaster of the season Part 2 (Colin B. x Reader)

Disaster of the season Part 2 /Final Colin Birdgerton x Reader Warnings: none

Four times when you embarrass yourself in front of the ton and one time when Colin decides you are the one for him.

III.

Despite your promise to not show yourself again in this season, you find yourself at a Ball in a new, pastel-colored dress. After your last disaster, your mother had to console your sorrow for days to make you leave the bed, and in the end, they had to call over Eloise to chase you out of your room.

The only reason you come is Prince Friedrich.  Of course, not because you want something from the young Prince, but because if he is here, no one will talk about you.

People look at your way as you walk in beside your parents, but they don’t give you more attention.

“You see?” Your mother asks you with a victorious smile. “I told you.”

“Great, mother,” you sigh at her childish behavior but can’t help and smile at her.

“Go and have fun.”

You gulp at the thought. Oh, yeah. Fun. Because you've had so much fun in this season already.

You grab a glass of juice to busy yourself with something while you walk around the ballroom.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Colin says your name to grab your attention from your thoughts.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you smile at the young man stopping in front of you.

“How are you?” He asks. “When I didn’t see you, I was worried you got sick.”

“I’m fine,” you reassure him. “I just needed a push to leave the house.”

“And the push was my sister, I assume?”

“Who else?”

“I’m glad she was successful. She is here somewhere with Penelope.”

“I will find them eventually,” you answer with a nod. You are sure you will hear the brown-haired girl's dissatisfaction soon enough. 

“Would you like to join me for a walk until then?” Colin asks you, offering his arm.

“Thank you,” you smile at him gratefully, accepting his gesture.

The night goes uneventfully. You don’t fall out of the window or bleed out in front of everyone. It’s a success.

Until now.

You can see Cressida’s swoon from the front row. Everybody gasps worriedly around you as the young woman falls into the Prince’s arms. Soon you can hear Daphne’s voice behind you, then it happens. She giggles at the girl’s obviousness, and you can’t help but laugh too.

Loudly. Clearly.

You gasp at your own reaction, trying to hide your uncontrollable giggles, which burst out of you in waves. People start to glance at you, confused.

“Go out,” Daphne whispers to you, seeing your problem. She tries to suppress her own giggles with better success than you.

Colin grabs your arm gently, pulling you out of the crowd. Tears burn your eyes as you start to cry from laughter. You can feel Cressida’s burning glare at the nape of your neck when your eyes meet with the Prince’s before you get lost among the people with Colin on your heels.

The smaller room with huge paintings is empty and calm. The tons' chatting gets quiet as Colin shuts the door, and you let out the laugh you tried to hide from everybody.

He smiles at your uncontrollable cheerfulness, watching you laughing to your heart content.

“I can’t go anywhere with you,” he says jokingly when you start to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckle, pulling down your gloves to wipe off your tears and the ruined mascara.

“Wait, let me…” He steps in front of you without a second thought. His touch is warm on your heated skin as he makes sure you are presentable again.

He still has some boyish features despite his age. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, stepping back before somebody catches you.

“We should go back,” he says. “Go first, I’m sure Eloise has things to say.”

He looks after you as you smooth down your dress and adjust your hair. You still try to suppress your grin as you wave at him as a goodbye, disappearing behind the door. A small smile is constant on his face, looking around the empty room, watching but not really seeing the paintings on the dark painted walls.

A life with you would be adventurous and fun.

IV.

The weeks go by, and the ton slowly forgets your mistakes. Visitors come to your house with flowers and small presents to woo you with poetry and promises.

And you hate it.

Neither of them is the one you want. A few of them seem worthy and kind, while the others are just boring and too pompous. At the end of the day, your face hurts from the forced smiles, but your younger siblings enjoy immensely the chocolates and other sweets you get. Your father seems dissatisfied with your suitors, and he doesn’t waste time to let them know behind his usual polite demeanor.

“You will find the one, I’m sure of it,” he says to you comfortingly.

But that is the problem. You found him years ago.

With a sigh, you nod to reassure him, patting his hand on your knee.

Your jealousy for Daphne seems ridiculous now. Of course, for the ton, it's good that you have so many suitors, but for you, it just gets boring and tiring. The Bridgerton girl refused the Prince of Prussia to marry with the Duke while you sit in the drawing-room for days with men who don’t interest you in the slightest.

You get out of the carriage with your mother behind you in front of the Bridgertons’ imposing house. The wisterias bloom above the freshly cleaned windows, and bees buzz around from flowers to flowers as you walk to the entrance. The butler greets you with a polite smile and escorts you to the drawing-room where the Bridgerton women are already occupied with Lady Danbury.

They welcome you with joy as your mother joins them for a cup of tea while Eloise pulls you over to the loveseat to tell you everything about Lady Whistledown. The young girl seems enthusiastic and too obsessed with the mysterious woman. You smile and listen to her words with nods and hums as you steal a small piece of chocolate from the box on her lap.

"I still can't believe that you accused Mrs. Wilson,” you laugh, and Eloise hits your arm as an answer, but before she can continue with her theories, Colin and Anthony appear in the room with a respectful bow to their mother’s company and cheeky smiles to your way.

“Lady Whistledown?” Anthony asks with a tired sigh, sitting down on the sofa next to his sister.

“Who else?” Colin answers before you, sitting down next to you with a cookie in his mouth. His eyes shine as your gazes meet for a moment while Eloise begins her monologue about women and their derogatory role in society.

“But you will debut in the next season, won't you?” You ask her.

“If it’s up to me, then no,” she answers stubbornly.

“If it comforts you, I will be there too,” you sigh tiredly, leaning back on the backrest. You grab the pillow behind you to hug it on your lap.

“You don’t have suitors?” Colin asks, surprised, turning to you more in his seat.

“I have,” you reply. “They are just…” you grimace with a shrug instead of ending the sentence.

“They are not worthy enough?” Anthony asks, knowing the feeling. After Daphne, he knows the feeling well enough.

“You can say that,” you nod.

“I’m sure you will find somebody,” he reassures you with a gentle smile.

What you don’t see is the cheeky smile he sends to his little brother’s way. The boy’s face gets hot from his brother’s unwanted attention.

“Come on, my daughter,” your mother says out of the blue. “We still have to see the modiste.”

“Have fun,” Eloise says, and you hit her arm softly for her mockery.

What you don't notice is the little teacup between her fingers that falls out of her hand because of your playful slap. Eloise gasps, trying to grab the porcelain, but it's too late. The pleasantly warm tea pours onto your thigh, soaking your dress.

Colin looks at the ruined dress, then up to your mortified expression. His chest starts to hurt seeing your series of bad luck. You really need somebody who can protect you before a piano falls on you from nowhere.

“Poor girl,” Lady Danbury sighs, seeing the tea-stained dress. “It’s definitely not your season.”

V.

The dress you choose for the ball is light-colored with darker lace decorations. The white gloves on your arms are long enough to reach your elbows, and your hair tied up in curly locks with a silky ribbon.

You suppress the disappointment because of the season and your misfortune with love so you can enjoy the last ball of the season. You didn’t see Daphne since the Cressida swooning fiasco, and you hope you can have a few words with her before they go back to Clyvedon.

The garden they decorated for the ball is elegant and flowery.  Large chandeliers hang over the dancefloor, and the painting about the married couple attracts the eyes of the guests.

You stand at the edge of the black and white floor, watching the dancing couples. The music is loud but pleasant, and the chats around you mix with the songs. Your gaze wanders to Daphne, and despite that, she is beautiful as always something seems off with her. The young girl’s face is almost sad as she looks over at her husband.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Colin greets you with a small smile and a bow. “Can I have this dance?” He asks, offering his hand to you.

“It would be my pleasure,” you answer, accepting his proposal.

He leads you to the dancefloor when the orchestra starts to play a new song. His touch is warm on your waist, and his grip is gentle on your hand as you begin to move with him.

“How are you?” He asks you quietly.

“Well, I didn’t do anything horrible yet,” you reply and smile at him when he starts to laugh.

“Then I guess I have to look out for you,” he hums.

“I think I’m too helpless for that,” you sigh, playing with him.

The few minutes you spend in Colin’s arms are amazing. You even forget every disastrous thing that happened to you during the season. Of course, you didn’t find the love you wanted, but you still have time.

“Oh, god,” Colin says suddenly, looking up at the gloomy sky.

Raindrops fall on your shoulder, soaking your hair and dress. You follow the Bridgerton boy’s eyes up to the clouds until you feel him pull you out of the rain. You let him lead you, trying to step over a fresh puddle on the polished floor.

Without success.

The floor slips out under your legs, but your hands are still in Colin’s grip. A small shriek leaves your mouth as you fall on your knees, yanking the boy with you to the floor. He falls on his bottom with a grunt, and you can’t help yourself but laugh at his surprised face. He looks over at you, standing up in his wet clothes to help you up.

Your dress is darker than before, and your wet locks are stuck to your temple and neck.

“I can’t believe this,” he says when you are protected from the rain.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Daphne laughing on the dance floor with Simon not far from her, but your focus is on the man in front of you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say to him. Your voice is joyful and remorseful at the same time.

Colin stares at you for what feels like long minutes. His face seems content and happy, and you can’t look away despite everyone else watches Daphne and Simon.

“Marry me,” he says after a while. He is so quiet you barely hear his words, and when you do, you can’t believe your ears.

“What?” You gasp.

“I want you to be my wife,” he says more loudly. “I can make you happy and… safe,” His last word is cheeky, but he is still serious as he searches your face for an answer. “I know you for years, and I know our life would be everything but boring and unhappy.”

He watches your soaked form, your smeared mascara, and your messy hair, and his chest tightens. Or just his feelings get bigger. He can’t decide. The only thing he knows is the desire in him to be with you all the time.

“So what do you say? Will you marry me?” He urges you for an answer breathlessly.

“Yes. A million times, yes.”

[musicallisto]

Hi Clara!! Congratulations on 800 followers again!! (also I was looking through your blog and we have the same birthday!! 🥳) I was wondering if I could please have a male Bridgerton ship? I’m an ENFJ, libra, and Hufflepuff if that helps at all. I can be a bit introverted a times but I’m usually a pretty outgoing, kind, and optimistic person! (although I can be a bit sensitive at times lol) Currently I’m studying to be a teacher. My friends/family are very important to me, and I will always try my best to help them it whatever ways I can. As for some things I enjoy, I love to read and write, as well as spend all day watching movies. I’m also interested in signing, acting, etc. and making things with my hands (ie. knitting, embroidery). Thank you so much in advance!! 💛

hiii birthday twin!! <3 you seem like the most fantastic person ever, I love your personality - and your writing, but it goes without saying. I hope you like your vanilla milkshake, but don’t get caught sipping on it unchaperoned with benedict bridgerton, that would be quite the scandal...

Now, was I influenced by your profile picture? Probably. But even without it, you’d be perfect for each other, and let me tell you the story of you both.

For your first society outings, and following your debutante ball, you became the talk of all London. Sure, you were praised far and wide for your beauty, but there was something else, ineffable and far more tender, that caused your name to linger on most gentlemen’s lips.

It was your first season, and yet you had already shown a mesmerizing elegance and poise, as well as an acute optimism and enthusiasm, making your conversation all the more enjoyable to all those you encountered.

Benedict had noticed you on your first ball, when whispers of your name and your every move had spread among the crowd like wildfire, and he had to admit that you were radiant, and your warm and welcoming smile gave you beauty like no other, but bright eyes and rosy cheeks were legion this side of London, and he knew the superficiality of these pretty little faces all too well. He wasn’t intrigued enough to start up a conversation or ask you to dance, and imagined you would be married in a matter of weeks.

But as time went on, and you apparently gracefully declined each proposal you received, Benedict couldn’t help growing a little bit more captivated each time he heard your name. What could you possibly waiting for? You’d had dashing young men bring you presents, you’d had the wealthiest nobles serenade you with flowers and compare you to a summer’s day; you’d had sonnets and promenades and bouquets and jewelry... and yet you had rejected them all, but not out of malice, still with this grace that everyone knew you to have.

Perhaps, and it was a little pretentious of him to dare entertain the thought, but it pleased a small part of his soul nonetheless, perhaps what you were waiting for was a portrait.

Eventually, after having theorized for days about what could possibly prompt such unambiguous refusals from a lady who seemed to have plethora of choice, Lady Whistledown must have deemed your situation to be less worthy of attention, because not scandalous enough, and you, like most other trends and fashions in that everchanging society, became an old tale before you’d even reached your prime.

But paradoxically, exactly when you were no longer the subject of Whistledown’s tittle-tattle, were you the most intriguing to Benedict.

It was then that he finally asked you to dance, under the watchful (and, though she did not show it, agreeably surprised) gaze of Lady Violet Bridgerton.

“You look positively radiant, lady Y/L/N. Your gown is exquisite.”

And he immediately regretted every single word that he had just said; he sounded just like those boring Lords you had rejected one after the other; but he meant it, he truly meant it, for he was just then seeing the hues in your eyes and in your smile, all those colors like those of a vibrant landscape...

If there ever was a time to show the depths of his soul, it was then; but he had always been good at avoiding conversation, not prompting it.

Still, you didn’t drop your beaming smile, and answered with a slight blush.

“Thank you, my lord. It is... oh, you will think it’s silly.”

“Not at all, I promise.”

“You see, you are the first to say that. Other lords have reproached its simplicity, but I am rather fond of it, because I sewed it myself.”

“Really? That’s impressive!”

He found he had little trouble continuing with the conversation after that, because you were so easy to talk to, so understanding of everything he said and so enthralling to get to know. You were creative and great with your hands, an artist, just like him, and it was the first of many things he would love about you.

“Tell me, lord Bridgerton... I have heard that you are quite the artist yourself.”

“Oh, that’s a gross exaggeration, they are but half-good sketches, nothing of interest, truly...”

Yet as he danced the night away with you, he felt as though a new blood surged through his veins, ready to craft the most beautiful pieces the world had ever seen, if only they could resemble the colors of your face.

“Well, I would love to see these half-good sketches someday, if you allow. I am sure they are brilliant.”

You had never seen a lord blush before, especially not a Bridgerton. It made your heart soar like it had rarely before.

“If you so wish. I couldn’t possibly refuse a lady.”

All along the ride back home, Benedict has the hugest, silliest grin on his face as he looks wistfully at the night sky.

“If it is what it takes to see my beloved brother swoon like a simpleton, then I will come to society balls more often.”

“Eloise, do not talk of your brother like that!”

But she’s right - it only took one night for him to be completely enraptured by you. He understands what they all meant when they couldn’t keep your name out of their mouths, when they said you were delightful and spirited... but they all hurried with their proposals, without getting to know you first, without listening to you, without discovering the depths of your character, and it’s all he wants all he can think about.

The next morning, he’s at your doorstep with a bouquet, and, of course, tightly wrapped inside it so as to not draw suspicion, a few of his sketches, ones that he drew the evening prior because his mind was too restless to sleep.

And thus begins a long period of courtship that has all of London in a frenzy. Surely no one expected the second eldest Bridgerton and the former diamond to have an affinity for each other. Truly no one.

“My Benedict has his heart set on an accomplished lady, a beautiful and clever one at that - this truly is the season of surprises! All a fulfilled mother would need now is for your brother to be the next to mend his ways...”

“And all his brother would need now, mother, is an escape from this interminable paperwork, but alas.”

You can often be seen promenading together in Hyde Park - you enjoy the company of the squirrels and the geese as much as he loves taking in the sceneries to later paint them.

“Y/N, pardon me if it is too bold of me to ask, but why are you not engaged yet? Surely you must have had a plethora of charming young men propose to you...”

“Handsome they were, but hardly charming. Oh, they all had plenty of qualities... an estate by the sea, a racing stable with twenty horses, a spot in the throne succession... but, oh, I care little if this is unbecoming of me to say, they were all so boring! None of them had half the charm that you have. The hours fly by when I am with you, Benedict, and I am entirely truthful when I say I have never felt as content as I feel with you.”

Everyone is London is awaiting the moment they’ll see you with a ring on that finger, but it seems to never come; yet everything is idyllic and your courtship and, beyond that, in your friendship, and he sincerely knows that he is irrevocably and utterly in love with you. But he just doesn’t dare ask.

To the point that Benedict’s entourage give him signals that it is now or never. Even Anthony, though with varying success.

“If you don’t propose to Lady Y/L/N, brother, I will.”

(And no one believed that.)

“Fine, I will, then!”

“Eloise!”

But what he has with you is so special that he’s terrified of rushing things. What if you are not ready, what if he is not as interesting, just as boring as the other men you turned down? What if he read everything wrong? What if...

Until he shoots his shot. It’s not nearly as romantic as he expected, because he fumbles over his words a few times and almost drops the ring in the Hyde Park lake...

... but given the enthusiasm with which you nod and embrace him - not caring about the passerby’s judging gazes -, he’s not sure why he agonized over it so much.

It’s self-evident that your love story is one for the ages.

800 follower sleepover

[lizacstuff]

Liza, did you hear that they are switching SCK writers again? Ayse is actually coming back. I'm really conflicted - I know people romanticize her initial episodes, but we saw the rest after that and I really like how they have actually been portrayed as a mature couple now, not just with suggestive scenes. And a problem I had with both Ayse and that other writing team was how long they dragged their main storylines. If this is our last 10 episodes or however many, I need them to move fast.

Hi there. Sorry it’s taken me awhile to answer this, I actually have quite a few asks spanning back to the last episode that I’ll to answer in the next day or two. 

As for Ayse coming back, fine with me. She created the show and the characters so she knows them and I’ve got to believe she’ll take good care of them in the second season. However, I also have a different view of her episodes than apparently a lot of people do.  She wrote 1-21, 24.  The first 12 were great in my opinion and why I fell in love with the show. But I also really liked 17-21.  I really don’t understand the disdain some people have for them. They’re not perfect, but overall I think they’re really enjoyable. When they aired, I gave full thoughts on all of them and why I enjoyed them if you’re interested they’re on my blog. 

13 and 24 were pretty disjointed and poorly done, though we know there were some extenuating circumstances around 13 (Anil had to be written out at the last minute and they lost a shooting day due to weather) and I suspect they were changing things on the fly for 24. And, honestly, 14-16 weren’t terrible, they were just kind of sad and lacking in sparkle in a way the rest of the episodes weren’t.  I understand the criticism of the way she drew out their break up and Eda finding out the truth, but to be honest I preferred that to the current regime having new traumatic drama around every corner.  I never had a pit in my stomach while watching her episodes, while I did have a pit in my stomach watching many recent ones. I don’t want the pit. That’s not why I watch this show.

For some reason, fandom on twitter has completely romanticized the writing of Fikret and Kerem, and while I think they’ve done some things incredibly well and written some amazing swoon-worthy scenes and I welcomed them back with open arms after the rough times of 31-36, they are also the ones who:

introduced Balca and wrote the really out-of-character Serkan end scene in 22

introduced the bizarre Prince story and then did absolutely nothing with it

they wasted the Babanne story and dropped the whole thing in an unsatisfying way

wrote 25 which to me is one of the worst episodes of the series

introduced the amnesia plot and are the ones who architected it to include Selin in such an intrusive and upsetting way

had Serkan propose to Selin

had Eda decide to do a fake engagement with Deniz

wrote Eda deciding to leave Serkan over Selin’s fake pregnancy

had Selin leave with no real comeuppance or consequences, basically no payoff for all that pain we endured

went back to jealousy, and clueless!Serkan, and gave us another crazy, obsessed woman storyline in 38 (is every other woman a crazy, obsessed stalker in their world?)

introduced the tumor

I mean... I don’t get why they are so much more preferable to Ayse in the eyes of many. 

Ayse’s jealousy plots were sooooooo much more mild and easier to swallow, and dare I say... fun. They were funny. She wrote drain-the-pool, burn the flowers, Efe, and the photographer. Even Selin trying to move into Serkan’s loft was never anxiety inducing under her pen vs the way Selin’s presence made me want to crawl out of my skin during the amnesia plot. 

As for your concerns about them being a mature couple vs just suggestive scenes... you realize this show is NEVER going to show us sex, right? For the love of God they got fined for showing them nuzzling noses in a bathtub.  In addition RTUK apparently just put out a notice to all summer shows warning them against getting too racy.  So whatever you’re looking for is NOT going to happen, no matter who the writer is.  I realize that there were more (chaste, they are all chaste) kisses in the F&K episodes, than in Ayse’s, but I think she gets a lot of blame for things that probably weren’t her decision. For instance in 12 pulling back to a wide shot the second their lips touched in the astronomy scene, or for the curtains in 13.  It wasn’t like she was scripting “GO WIDE, GO WIDE,” there were a lot of people-- from the director, producers, DP, editors etc-- that had a say in how those kisses were presented, and I’m sure they were trying to decide how far they could push it and got a bit more adventurous in later episodes.

I’m sorry you’re not happy with the news, but for my part I’ll take her gentler brand of funny, sparkly romantic comedy over the heavy melodrama.  But also, Hande and Kerem are going to create their unique magic on screen no matter who the writer is, so it’s gonna be worth watching no matter what, so I advise not to get upset over what you can’t control and just enjoy what comes.

[justdecadentcollectiondestiny]

Our manager called us into a meeting and told us what we already knew. “We gotta face facts,” he said to us as we sat in a row, Faith on my right, Graham on my left, and Denis on his left. “The last album didn’t do too well. I mean, it’s not that you guys don’t have talent.” He gestured at each of us in turn. “Bass, vocals, guitar, drums - you’re the whole package. You just need that little something extra for this upcoming record.”

“What are you getting at?” Denis asked, his arms and legs crossed over each other.

Our manager leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “I’m proposing that Ava and Graham date.”

We shared a silent glance. “You’re not serious,” protested Graham.

“Of course I’m serious. It’s perfect. It’s a fairytale. The singer and the guitarist. Long hours rehearsing, writing songs, on the road, from which - love bloomed. Let’s face it, you two are the eye candy of the group. They’ll adore you together.”

I looked open-mouthed from Graham to Faith to our manager. “There’s no way we’re doing that.”

Our manager shrugged. “You hired me for my advice. This is it. Trust me. It’ll sell.”

We let out a collective sigh.

“Tell you what. You try it for a month to promote the new album. When time’s up, if it doesn't work, you’re done. And if it does, I won’t say ‘I told you so’.”

We thought.

In the end, we agreed. Graham and I started leaving the recording studio holding hands. We planned “dates”, doing things we always did anyway, just making sure to pose with our arms around each other for the paparazzi. I started wearing a “G” around my neck, he an “A”. It wasn’t too awkward, we had always been good friends. There was just a sense, to an insider at least, that this new ruse was keeping each of us away from the person we really wished were sitting across from us.

As much as we hated to admit it, our manager had been right. The fans ate it up. Our new album sold better than any of the others, and we sold out a twenty-show tour in just a few weeks. So when the month was up, we didn’t have any excuse to call it off. So we kept it up, him opening car doors for me, me twirling my finger in his hair.

We set off to the first stop on our tour. We had written this album full of love ballads, and the “oohs” and “ahhs” from the audience at us juxtaposed next to the swoon-worthy lyrics were almost louder than the applause. Our set list ended with the most romantic of the new songs, and Graham turned to me as we sang the final verse.

“You’ve always been there, right next to me

We’re better together, don’t you agree?

I’ve loved you forever, can’t you see

My dear, you and I are meant to be”

By now the audience was chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” like their lives depended on it. Graham took my hand and turned me towards him, a grimace on his lips only I could see. “Seal the deal?” he whispered.

“Fine,” I replied just as the confetti launcher went off and we kissed to the sound of a thousand screaming fans.

We scurried backstage as a deafening roar begged for an encore. Denis headed straight for his dressing room, Graham close behind, pausing for only a second to set his guitar down. “Den, wait-”

Faith packed up her bass, the whole room dripping with uncomfortable silence. She moved to put the case away and stopped as we came face to face. “Hey.” I smiled awkwardly. “Good show, huh?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Nice touch at the end there. They loved it.” She patted me on the shoulder, once, twice, before letting her hand fall and moving away, my eyes staying on her as she left.

It became a ritual of sorts. At the end of every show, we would turn to each other, sing the last sappy verse to each other, then kiss as Faith and Denis looked on like awkward third and fourth wheels and the crowd whooped and cheered before pulling away like magnets turned the wrong way. Some fans suspected, but were drowned out by the vast majority calling us “Ava and Graham, the new heartthrob couple”. Show two, five, ten, seventeen, we kept at it, ignoring everything until we couldn’t any longer.

We met in Graham’s dressing room before show number twenty.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said.

“Neither can I,” he said. “I’m in love with someone else.”

“Me too.”

That evening in that dressing room, we made a plan.

That night’s show went on as normal, with the audience clapping and singing along, enjoying each song while eagerly awaiting the end of the concert and what would come with it. When the moment came, the last verse of the last song of the night, the anticipation in the air was palpable. However, the excited buzz of the crowd died down in shock as Graham and I turned not toward each other, but away, and moved across the stage, me stage left to where Faith was plucking her bass, Graham upstage to where Denis was pounding his drums.

They looked almost as surprised as the audience as we started singing the final verse of the night to them.

“You’ve always been there, right next to me

We’re better together, don’t you agree?

I’ve loved you forever, can’t you see

My dear, you and I are meant to be”

The song ended and Faith cupped my face in both of her hands and kissed me. I could see out of my eyes that Denis had done the same to Graham. For a split second the entire venue was completely silent before the room erupted with the sound of the confetti launcher and an enormous cheer from the audience. And finally, we kissed the person we had wanted to kiss all along, as confetti rained down on all of us.

Pictured above, top to bottom, left to right: Faith, Ava, Graham, Denis.

[hopeless-weakness]

2021 Books I’ve Read

212/75

The Goal by Elle Kennedy

(Off-Campus book 4)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I went into this kind of bleh. The only connection to the others was Tucker. I don’t count Sabrina as a connection, since she was always nasty towards Dean. She needed to redeem herself. And I’m happy to say, she did just that, and then more. I needed to read this to keep an eye on Tucker. I’m undeniably protective of these boys! It overlaps with The Score. Which was nice. Except when I made the realization that meant I was going to suffer losing Beau again. And even though I knew it was coming, it was yet again a blow to my heart. (Especially since this time it focuses on everyone’s hurt, not just Dean’s.) Sabrina has a terrible home life, but even before knowing everything going on, Tucker is one hundred percent protective of Sabrina. He was willing to do whatever it took to just spend five minutes with her. Sabrina doesn’t want any distractions, and he doesn’t want to be a distraction either. But, he does what to be the right kind of distraction, the kind she needs. And he becomes just that. I’m a woman of the south, so obviously Tucker’s southern gentleman charm and “darling” made my heart flutter. His devotion to her, and being by her side no matter what was *sigh* swoon worthy. Our sweet Jamie was a piece of each other them, just like they are a piece of each other. Their happy ending was my favorite! But, for how much I loved this, I didn’t love every second. (Hello Winston!)

My Favorite Quotes:

•”I’m holding back the marriage proposal until the third date.”

•”Your fist around it would be hot. You have good hands.”

•’Two halves of a bigger, better whole.’

•”You do whatever you need to. I’ve got you.”

•“I’m here with you, Sabrina. Every step of the way.”

•”You love me, huh?”

•”You. Me. Us. This. There’s no one else for me in this world, nobody but you.”

7/10 Dirty Birdy

4/10 Sports Romance

9/10 Series

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click here for my reading playlist on spotify! 🎧📖

[darthstitch]

Say Something

(Or I finally grab my ailing old laptop and decide to write a longer version of the prompt: “Thorin keeps telling Bilbo how much he adores him in Khuzdul and Bilbo does’t know”)

1.  Dwalin has had a long time to get used to Durin-caused bullshit.  

Yes, he’s aware he’s ALSO a Durin.  But his Amad was descended from the ruling family of the Broadbeams and he likes to think that he and Balin got the common sense and intelligence that ancient Dwarrow house was known for.  Because Mahal only knew that the Durins didn’t have it.  At all.  

Case in point: Thorin falling furry arse over boots for that Hobbit.  

So all right, Thorin showed uncommon good sense in that respect.  Bilbo Baggins was a fine cook and the cookies would make any intelligent, self-respecting Dwarf fall on his knees and propose marriage on the spot.  

(Okay, Dwalin didn’t, but that was because he took one look at his King and the Hobbit and just knew....) 

But did Thorin have to go about the whole business like a complete clotpole?

Hence:  

“Mahal’s balls, Thorin, REALLY?” So all right, he was sorry that he’d spewed ale all over poor Kili but the lad should really be better at ducking at dodging at this point.  

Thorin’s suspiciously red ears were the real answer but his King had to snarl, “Shut it, Dwalin!” 

There had been an argument.  Something something Elrond, pointy-ears, not trusting them, better manners.... whatever.  Master Baggins was apparently not the meek and mild little creature they had all taken him for and it was quite amusing to watch the wee one stand up to their grumpy stormcloud King.  

Who apparently found it appropriate to blurt out, in Khuzdul:  “Why are you so confoundedly irritatingly ridiculously ADORABLE, Hobbit?!!” 

Master Baggins had no idea what was actually being said, but the Hobbit simply assumed, based from the surly tone, that Thorin was being Disagreeable and Rude.  So he simply put his nose up in the air and responded with:  “Bless and confound you too, Master Dwarf!”  Then followed this up with a magnificently dramatic exit.  

He did not see Thorin turn all the way red, nor the way Dwalin reached out to grab him by his collar because his royal Durin cousin was suddenly wobbly at the knees.  Look, Thorin was an idiot, but he was still Dwalin’s king AND idiot.  Durin-caused bullshit, right?

Also, Bilbo did not see or hear Fili grumpily handing a bag of coins to Kili. 

All Kili  said in response was:  “Told you so, Fee. Absolute goober.” 

2.   About that bet - Fili and Kili were not stupid.  

Yes, they were young.  And occasionally made some silly decisions.  But that came with the territory and a little silliness added some fun and excitement to one’s life.  

But yes, the brothers both observed their uncle falling for their Hobbit.  

The nature of the bet was HOW Thorin would go about wooing the Hobbit. 

Fili was of the opinion that Thorin would behave in a manner befitting his status as a King and of the House of Durin.  In short, Thorin Oakenshield would be every brooding, swoon-worthy, romantic hero in those Dwarrow romances that their Amad adored and that Fili claimed he never read (nope nope nope - never - what are you talking about).

Kili knew better.  He knew his Uncle Thorin would be a complete and utter walnut.  A total goober over their Hobbit. 

And yes, Bilbo had become “their” Hobbit in very short order.  The sons of Dis knew how to recognize a true treasure when they found it.   So it was easy for them to adopt Bilbo Baggins as part of their family and had no problem telling him so. 

Bilbo’s smile, the hugs he bestowed on “you dear, dear lads” and the extra portions of stew with mushrooms that they got for dinner that night, confirmed that it was the right decision.  Also, who knew that mushrooms could be so amazingly delicious? 

Bilbo giggled, “I’ll make hobbits of you lads yet.  Or since you’re still dwarves, hmm... maybe dwobbits would be better?”

“Dwobbits?!!” was the exclamation of nearly every member of the company. Because of course they were listening in, the nosy buggers.  

“Dwobbits,” Ori said thoughtfully.  “Has a nice ring to it.”  And of course, this immediately went into his journal. 

“Dwobbits... that would explain much about the Line of Durin,” Balin mused.  He twinkled at Thorin, whose ears were once again, that tell-tale shade of red.  The erstwhile King of Erebor looked rather gobsmacked, as a matter of fact.  “It has been said that Durin’s beloved was not a Dwarf...” 

“Maybe all that hair that should’ve been on your face has gone to your feet, Kili, let me check...” 

“Oi! Leave off, Fili!”

“If Mahal and Yavanna would bless us with dwobbits, I would pray that they would all have your beautiful curly hair and your adorable, kissable nose...” Thorin muttered absently in Khuzdul, not seeing the collective facepalming and coin-purse exchanging of the Dwarves close enough to hear him.  

Bilbo, not understanding of course, frowned at Thorin, even as he absently separated the squabbling boys, gently cuffing them by the ears.  “It’s a bit rude to be nattering about in a language one can’t understand.”

“No, Master Hobbit, I’m simply coming up with some suitable way to explain to my sister how I’ve finally tricked some poor unsuspecting soul into adopting this pair of scamps.” 

“Oi!”

Bilbo calmly handed Thorin his own stew - with a generous helping of mushrooms - and said, “I’m sure you’ll manage, Your Dwobbit Majesty.”  

Bilbo was going to learn Khuzdul eventually.  In fact, he was fairly sure that “Irak’Adadith” meant “Hobbit.”  Yavanna knew that Kili and Fili used the word to refer to him often enough.  

Also, he was quite proud that he DID get all three royal Durins to enjoy mushrooms.  

3.  Nori and Gloin were sensible Dwarves and thus, they mostly contented themselves by running the various betting pools that had sprung up over the romance (yes, Mahal damn it, it WAS a romance and an EPIC one at that) of their King and Hobbit.  

Hilariously, it was Bifur who kept winning most of the bets.  It was almost as if the axe in his head granted him some sort of seer-related powers, enough to rival even Oin’s.  

And yes, Oin was Gloin’s secret weapon as the canny old healer employed his gifts of selective hearing to gather all the needed information.  

“Thorin Oakenshield, WHAT did you just call me?  Bunnanunê? If that means ‘halfling’ - might I remind you, I am a HOBBIT and NOT half of anything, you confounded Dwarf!”

“My tiny treasure, eh?” Oin muttered.  “He’s getting creative with the endearments.”

“Reminds me of my darling mizim and how I wooed her...” Gloin mused. 

“Gloin, EVERYTHING reminds you of your darling wife,” said Nori. 

“And so what if it does -- !”

Bifur interrupted the argument with a smug grin and a clear request for money.  Yes, he won the bet again.  

4.   At this point, Bofur decided to start making toys for any future royal dwobbits.  Bifur was quite, quite sure that Bilbo and Thorin would end up having a tiny, dark-haired and blue-eyed dwobbit at some point.  Maybe there was something to the stories about Hobbits springing up from cabbage patches.  Maybe Bifur really was developing Seer abilities.  

In any case, “Uncle Bofur” would be happy to spoil any dwobbits with toys, while also aiding and abetting in mischief.   

5.  Look, Bombur did his part in all these shenanigans.  He and Bilbo traded recipes throughout the journey and he was definitely NOT imagining the pink in Bilbo’s cheeks when Bombur gleefully disclosed Thorin’s favorite foods.  

He also wasn’t above nudging the odds favorably when Bilbo invariably came up with something new and delicious that Thorin would enjoy.  And yes, he was right there when Thorin inadvertently blurted out an utterly twitterpated marriage proposal to Bilbo that the Hobbit had mistaken for a “thank you.”  

“You’re welcome,” Bilbo had said with a sunny smile.  He wasn’t quite sure why Dwalin was suddenly at Thorin’s side at that point, but he did give them both second helpings of dinner.  

He did chalk up Dwalin’s hand on Thorin’s collar as some sort of Dwarvish shenanigans (really, Dwalin and Thorin sometimes gave Fili and Kili a run for their money when it came to ridiculous mischief).  

Bombur just beamed as he caught the money bags coming his way.  He was actually second runner up to Bifur when it came to the betting.  

6.  There was an ongoing argument between Dori and Balin.  

Balin was of the opinion that Khuzdul was still their sacred, Mahal-given language, and as such, could not be shared with non-Dwarves.  

Dori was of the opinion that Bilbo was a true Dwarf-friend and for Mahal’s sake, SOMEBODY had to do something regarding the truly pathetic pining of their King over his Hobbit.  Yes, it was romantic and adorable but really!

Somebody had to take Bilbo aside and get him to realize what Thorin was really saying, so that their poor king could be put out of his misery.  

And anyway, the Consort-to-Be of the King Under the Mountain should really learn Khuzdul.  

Of course, Balin was merely stalling, because he loved a good argument and he was storing up all these wonderful, wonderful points because he was a good adviser and wanted to aid Thorin in giving any old, conservative, useless, greedy nobles collective apoplexy.  

He also knew that he could count on Dori in throwing any potential threats to Bilbo off the Mountain.  

7.  All right, Ori had enough of this insanity.  

Really, he was as avid a Storyteller as Bilbo was and he simply couldn’t end this tale of fighting dragons, regaining Erebor, tricking woodland Elves etc. etc. with:  “And our King Under the Mountain was a complete and utter walnut who let his Hobbit go back to his Shire without ever letting him know how much he was loved.  The End.”  

Yeah, nope!

So Ori waited and watched for his opportunity and Mahal deigned to bless his efforts.  

They were all currently engaged in the tedious work that scribes and historians generally left out of the tales, but were still important in rebuilding Erebor.  The scene was thus - Ori and Bilbo and Thorin Oakenshield and a pile of paperwork that needed to be worked on.   

It was most peculiar how Bilbo turned pink as he watched Thorin Oakenshield pull out a pair of spectacles from his pocket and put them on.  

“Is there something on my face, ghivashel?”

Oh.  OH.  

“Well, yes, there is.  Something.  On your face.”  Bilbo flailed.  

“Surely you’ve seen glasses before, amrâlimê,” Thorin teased.  

“It is STILL not polite that you keep calling me all these absurd things that you refuse to translate,” Bilbo retorted.  

And at that point, Ori was absolutely DONE.  “I think I would like a pot of tea.  Bilbo?”  

Bilbo eagerly took the offered “out” and all but pulled Ori out of the room, both of them ignoring Thorin, who was definitely not pouting.  Bilbo did assure the King Under the Mountain that he and Ori would return with tea for him as well.  The not-pout was erased with a brilliant smile.  Bilbo waved weakly at him even as it was Ori’s turn to drag him away.  

As soon as they were safely out of earshot, Bilbo slumped against Ori.  “Glasses, Ori.  GLASSES.”

“I know, Bilbo.” 

“How does he still look so MAJESTIC and HANDSOME in GLASSES?  This is most unnecessary, Ori.  This is RIDICULOUS.  And why am I telling you all this?  I’ve gone and lost my mind, that’s it.  Mad Baggins, Mad Bilbo Baggins...” 

“There, there, Bilbo.  If it helps, he feels EXACTLY the same way about you.”  

“Don’t be ridiculous - he’s your King and -- “

“ Amrâlimê means ‘my love,’ Bilbo.” 

“What.” 

“Ghivashel means ‘treasure of all treasures.’  They’re endearments.  Words of love.  Every last one of them.” 

“WHAT.”

Ori smiled.  And anyone else who would have seen the smile on the quiet little Scribe of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company would have called it bright as the sun and terrible as the sea.  

“I’m going to teach you Khuzdul, Bilbo Baggins.”

8.  There was something comforting in confessing his love using his mother-tongue.  

Thorin Oakenshield was quite resigned to the fact that he had lost any hope of gaining his One’s affections after the whole debacle with the Arkenstone and the dragon sickness.  Yes, apologies were made and yes, the friendship had been mended.  

And yet, Thorin was too shamed, too angry at himself to even ask for more.  Bilbo had his home in the Shire, his books, his armchair and the memories of his family.  There was an acorn in his hobbit’s pockets that deserved to be planted at Bag End.  

Bilbo deserved all that, his own happily ever after.  Thorin could never be part of that.  He didn’t deserve it.  

“I wish you would stay with me forever,”  Thorin said one day, as he and Bilbo sat together by the hearth in the King’s own private rooms.  He smiled as he shaped the words in his language and prepared to give Bilbo some excuse, a chance to banter and tease.  

“I want to stay with you forever,” Bilbo suddenly said in near-perfect Khuzdul.  “But you have to tell me why, Thorin Oakenshield.” 

Oh, Mahal.  Mahal have mercy on him.  

“Please say something... ghivashel.  Amrâlimê.”  His darling Hobbit had turned this enchanting shade of pink and suddenly, Thorin found his words, the right words, at long last.  

“Because you’ve had my heart all along, Bilbo Baggins.”  

Also, kisses had to be done here.  Because hearing those words from his Hobbit’s lips meant kisses, kisses that were eagerly returned, that had Hobbit hands twining in his hair and Thorin murmured a heartfelt apology as he saw tears gather in Bilbo’s eyes.  

“I love you too, you confounded, ridiculous Dwarf.”

9.   Bilbo eventually learned that Fili and Kili had been calling him “Little Uncle” the entire time.  He laughed, he cried and then gave the boys extra helpings of pie for dessert. 

A certain Dwobbit with curly dark hair and big blue eyes would always love the stuffed plush dragon that his Uncle Bofur made for him.  Yep, Bifur won the betting pool again.  

No, Fili and Kili absolutely did NOT have furry feet.  But yes, they were proud to be Dwobbits of the Line of Durin.  

Gloin had to be reminded that the Line of Durin tended to find their Ones in the most unconventional ways.  This was the only logical explanation as to why his darling Gimli would eventually end up married to Thranduil’s son, Mahal save them all.  

Many, many generations later, it was said among the Dwarves of Erebor that leaving knitted things and flowers at the feet of the statue of Ori, the Scribe of Thorin Oakenshield’s famed Company, would lead to blessings and luck in love.  

- end - 

#thorin you walnut is the best goddamn tag i’ve ever found - you guys are AMAZING

[nebulablakemurphy]

Could you do a Draco Malfoy fic based off of Still Into You by Paramore? Please and thank you!

Thanks for requesting anon, this was a fun one to write! 💕

Butterflies (Draco x Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N and Draco have been dating for a while and it’s time to meet the parents. Based off the lyric ‘Recount the night that I first met your mother. And on the drive back to my house I told you that, I told you that I loved ya.’ From the song ‘still into you’ by paramore.

(Y/N) = your name

(Y/L/N) = your last name

(Y/D/N) =your Dad’s name

(Y/M/N) = your Mom’s name

“It was lovely, meeting your parents.” Draco tells you. A hint of a smile on his lips; as you stand on the front porch of your childhood home.

“Can’t wait to meet yours.” That wasn’t entirely true. The few times you have crossed paths with Draco’s father, Lucius, he’s not been the most pleasant man.

“They’re not-“ he breaks off. “I thought this was a good idea, I was wrong.”

“Draco, we’ve been planning this for months.” You say in disbelief.

“I know.“ Draco sighs, nervously.

“You’re embarrassed of me.” It all makes sense now.

“Hardly,” he scoffs at the implication. “I’m embarrassed of them. How they treat people who don’t fit their description of worthy.”

“I can handle it.” You tell him truthfully, “I love you.”

“I don’t want that to change.” Draco’s voice lowers.

“It’s not going to change. I’m not going anywhere.” You promise.

“Shall we go then?” He asks, still not entirely convinced, but hoping for the best.

“Yeah,” you link an arm through his, disapparating to the front door of Malfoy Manor.

————————————————————

“Y/N,” Narcissa greets, her hair, styled elegantly over one shoulder. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Draco has told us so much about you.” Lucius appears from the grand hall.

“All good things I hope.” You crack a smile.

“Of course darling, nothing but.” Draco kisses your hair, smoothing it down. His hand resting on your lower back, reluctantly guiding you farther into the house.

It’s beautiful and dark, much like the Malfoy’s themselves. “You have a lovely home.” You tell them, hoping to make conversation.

“Thank you,” Draco’s mother nods. “From the sounds of it, it may very well be yours someday.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves dearest,“ Lucius cuts his gaze to her. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

You steal a glance at Draco as he pulls out a chair for you. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he waits for you to sit, then pushes you in. Before taking his own seat, across the table.

The wood is large and cool between you. You and Narcissa on one side, with Draco and his father on the other.

“So, Draco, how was your visit with Y/N’s parents?” Lucius asks, as house elves begin to plate our meal from the kitchen.

“It was wonderful, I’d very much like to do it again.” Draco informs him.

“What was it that they do for a living?” Narcissa asks, a calculated look on her face.

“My father is an overseer for the accounting department at ministry of magic, my mother is a judge for the department as well.” You reply, taking a sip from your glass.

“Very nice.” Lucius continues, “I knew a Y/L/N in school, Y/D/N, was it?”

“Yes, that’s my father.” You tell him, your eyes locked on his. Not letting Lucius intimidate you.

“Always hanging around that muggle born girl, Y/M/N.” Lucius’ brow arches slightly.

“That’s my mom.” You glare at him in disgust.

“Draco, surely this is news to you.” His father clicks his tongue, disapprovingly.

“I’ve known.” Draco replies, picking at his plate.

“If he’s taken with her, there must be something extraordinary about her.” Narcissa is trying to help.

“This is a joke Draco,” Lucius cuts her off, “why have you brought her here?”

“Because I love her and intend to make her my wife.” Draco confesses.

This is news to you, your mouth hanging agape.

“Do you think you’re the two people in this world to fall in love?” Lucius sets his fork down slowly. “That a feeling is enough to pollute a century’s old blood line! Erase years of tradition to love this girl?”

“I will make new traditions with this woman, who I love. And she will be worth it, no matter the cost. I chose her, she is worthy.” Draco shoots back.

“She will never be a Malfoy.” Lucius shakes his head, dismissively. “Have your fun Draco. But when it comes time to carry on our legacy, you will choose more wisely.” He pauses, “does she even know about your mark?” Lucius asks cruelly.

“You don’t get to do that.” You snap, moving to stand. “You don’t get to shame him for the mark that you bear. I know about the dark mark. I know about all of it.” You step around your chair.

“I knew you wouldn’t like me.” You continue, with a shrug. “I’m not a pure blood. I don’t swoon at the idea of power or yearn for leadership. But I love your son. I think that’s just as important.”

Draco shakes his head as if to clear it, stunned by your brazen behavior. Without a word, he moves to his feet. Closing the space between you, wrapping an arm around you.

“And another thing-“

“Let’s go love, they’re not worth it.” Draco says, his mind made up.

“Draco, if you walk out that door,” Lucius rises to his feet, teeth clenched. “Don’t bother coming back.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Draco means it, even if it does break Narcissa’s heart.

————————————————————

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask. Draco hasn’t taken his eyes off you for more than a few seconds, since leaving his parent’s house.

“Like what? I’m not looking at you like anything. I’m just looking, or is that no longer allowed?” Draco arches a brow.

You roll your eyes, “smart ass. Seriously, is there something on my face?” You do a quick swipe, with the back of your hand.

“There’s nothing on your face.” He chuckles, as you try to riddle out what has him staring. “I love you is all.”

“Did you mean what you said about wanting to marry me?” You wonder.

“Well I- yes.” Draco flounders, “but that wasn’t a proposal. There’ll be roses and a string quartet and doves being released into the sky.”

“Sounds a bit over the top; but I’m still into you.” You smile, leaning in for a kiss to seal the deal.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: IF YOU ARE NOT A SUPERCORP or SANVERS STAN PLEASE KINDLY SCROLL PAST THIS. APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG POST. I can't do the 'Keep Reading' thing-y since I'm using my phone. Sorry again. ✌️

The Drinking Game That Is To Be Played Never Again.

She woke up with a pounding headache. There was a groan to her right that was too fucking loud. It vaguely registers to her that the groan was from her girlfr-fiancé.

Any other time and Alex would have smiled at that thought; that Maggie was in her bed. Maggie woke up next to her. Maggie the love of her life. The one she would grow old with. The one who she'll raise dogs with and-Fuck! She was also the one who caused this whole killer hangover in the first place.

Stupid. Stupid drinking game. Stupid Lena Luthor and her 'darling,'. Stupid Kara who's a stupid Kryptonian. Oh god, she's going to throw up.

"Shh, no loud noises." She what- If Alex could get 65 percent of her brain to function properly right now she would've already yelled at Maggie. (She had the fucking audacity to tell Alex to shut up. She hasn't even said anything at all!) This was her fault after all. But she feels like shit. And truthfully, she can never yell at her.

Instead she settles for trying to put herself in an upright position and trudges to the bathroom. Last night's events hitting her full force.

The Night Before...

They were at the alien bar. J'onn fetching them drinks over at M'gann and Maggie poolstick cockily propped and leaning back at the pool table as she watches James take his turn. Lena and Kara has yet to show up.

She walks over to Maggie and gives her a quick peck. "Is it just me or is it terribly boring tonight?" Maggie whispers, not low enough apparently because James is chiming in with a, "You're only saying that because you're losing to me, Sawyer."

To which her girlfriend-her fiancé (*swoon* sounds even better) responded with an eye roll. James just chuckled and poked her lightly with a poolstick before, "Hey guys!"

And that's Kara Danvers right there, and of course if Kara's here it is only right to assume that (ah yes, Lena Luthor, hand firmly in Kara's own.) Lena was also already here.

They transfer to a much larger booth and before long the gang was completed, Brainy and Nia finally arriving. Drinks and conversation were flowing naturally when Alex turned to Maggie, "Still bored?"

"Actually, yes. How about we make this night a bit interesting?" Maggie purred in her ear.

"I'm in. What do you have in mind?"

"Can the two love birds opposite me stop being disgustingly flirty and actually join in the conversation?!"

Alex sticks her tongue out at her little sister.

"A drinking game." It takes two seconds for Alex to realize that Maggie had answered her question.

"Oh? What kind of drinking game?"

Maggie gives her a conspiratorial smile and tilts her head to Lena's and Kara's direction before saying, "Every time Luthor addresses Kara as 'Darling' we drink."

Alex laughs, oh, this will be fun. Not to mention this will totally get them drunk. It was a running joke now; when Kara and Lena will finally just get it over with. It was amusing at first but after a while it gets a bit painful and frustrating to watch. Because if you have ever been stuck with Lena and Kara (even if only once) you'll see how goddamn awful they are when they're being lovey-dovey. And Kara still swears they're not dating.

Alex knows she's tipsy by the way she can hear her own words slur and by the way the usually composed Detective Sawyer is giggling. (Giggling for heaven's sake!) That's when James sneaks into the picture.

"What's got the two of you so giggly?" He asks eyes darting between the both of them and a playful grin on his lips.

"OOooh, come here Jimmy Boy," Maggie lets go of Alex to lean in closer to James then she whispers, "Prove to us that you are the worthy and almighty Guardian by not cowering from this challenge."

Was it just Alex or did Maggie sound old-time-y?

"What?" James asks laughing at whatever it is Maggie had said.

" YOU MUST JOIN OUR DRINKING GAME!" Did she also sound old-time-y? Alex hadn't meant to be so loud but apparently she had also caught Brainy, J'onn and Nia's attention.

Somewhere in her fuzzy brain she thinks shouldn't there be two more people here? But Alex was really, really drunk.

"Oh, sounds fun what are the rules?" Nal Dreamer Nia-Dreamer Nal(???) says. She was a superhero too, right?

Alex didn't even know how she managed to blurt out the mechanics but suddenly Lena's back at the table with Kara stumbling behind her, cheeks suspiciously red and wait was that a lipstick stain?? But Nia and Brainy had already taken three shots simultaneously and Alex was having too much fun to care about whatever it was on her sister's neck. J'onn refused to join in insisting that somebody had to supervise them.

"Your loss." Maggie had told J'onn before gulping a shot because,

"Kara, darling, no. That was last week wasn't it?"

Another drink.

"Darling, actually we still hadn't decided yet."

Fifth, fucking fifth. It was her fifth shot. At the back of her mind somebody's telling her it was actually her seventh.

"I already told Sam, darling."

"Yes, sure darling, Wednesday works.

"Kara, would you mind holding my purse, darling?"

"That's it-no more. I quit." James was the first to tap out.

"Quit what?" Kara asks, confusion coloring her face.

"Quit! This new uh virtual game that Brainy and James had been playing." Oh thank God for Nia. Kara didn't bat another eyebrow although that may have to do with the fact that Lena's talking to her again and everyone knows that nobody can really reach Kara if it's Lena in front of her.

"Darling-"

Alex wants to cry. She doesn't even know what drink this is.

"Very funny, darling."

She thinks Brainy is now actually crying.

"Are you drunk? I'M DRUNKKK."

"Oh, babe we are so wasted, right now."

"I'm smashed. Smashed. SMASHED. Is it even a word?" that's Nia's voice, right(???)

"Darling, I think you're sister is gonna fall over."

Maggie downs another drink.

Kara catches her. "Okay, that's enough for you."

"No, no no, not yet. We're still playing."

"Playing what?" Was that Lena and her CEO voice?????

"A game that Detective Maggie Sawyer had designed to get us all drunk. With the mechanics being-" James bumps into Brainy knocking him down and cutting him off.

Kara immediately springs into action, M'gann looking unfazed at all. This isn't her first time dealing with wasted customers.

"I think it's time everybody went home."

"Hm. Agree with CEO lady here."

"You take Alex and Maggie, I'll take James, Brainy and Nia?"

The question was directed at J'onn.

"Nonsense, darling, I'll call my driver and get them rides home. No need to exert all that flying effort."

Weren't they supposed to do something when Lena says 'darling'?

The Very Very Very, Ache-y Morning After...

"Please tell me we have coffee."

"We have coffee."

"I love you."

"Don't know if I could say the same to you, babe. I mean this is technically your fault."

"Nope." Maggie pops the 'p'

"This is the doing of two idiots in love who still hadn't stopped being idiots."

"Ugh God, yes. You're right, do you think I should give Kara a 'Get-Your-Shit-Together' Speech?" Alex ponders for a moment, Maggie shrugs and adds, "Yes do that. But make sure to make it gay, alright?"

"Of course. Wonder how the others are doing. I think I'm gonna tell J'onn I'm not going in today." Alex places the mugs on the table and grabs her phone before planting a sloppy kiss on Maggie's cheek.

"Remind me to never trust you into roping me to a drinking game again."

"Go call your boss, Danvers!"

Bonus:

"I gotta go check on Alex."

"Mm. Do you really? We can just stay here and cuddle. Or-not cuddle and do other, activities instead." Lena purrs and Kara was really, really, genuinely tempted to just climb back under the covers and feel Lena's naked skin against hers.

"Lena, it is kind of our fault that they got hammered last night." Kara says, leaning in and giving a kiss to the corner of Lena's lips.

"It really isn't darling, if Maggie hadn't proposed a drinking game. All of them would have turned out fine." Lena had overheard the detective's clever little plan and had told Kara, last night when she pulled her to the bathroom before deliciously devouring her neck.

"Well, yeah. But it is our fault that we didn't tell them immediately that we're dating therefore pushing them to do that drinking game."

"Hm? And here I thought you loved the thought of keeping me all to yourself."

"I do, I reallly do."

"Well, I'm all yours, darling."

Bonus++

"Kara? What are you doing here-Wait no, it's fine. Come in. I have a speech to tell you anyway."

"I have something to tell you-wait what do you mean a speech?"

"Yeah, it's the 'Get-Your-Shit-Together' Speech." Alex says in such a serious tone that it left no room for argument.

"But gay." Maggie chimes in, walking over to the both of them keys in hand, "Well I gotta go, hope you get your gay shit together, Little Danvers. Bye babe, love you."

It takes approximately 5 seconds later after Maggie had closed the door when,

"WAIT—YOU'RE DATING WHO?!!!!!!"

Author's Note: Hope y'all lovely people liked that. Please tell me your thoughts. Much love, from a reckless writer. 😘

P. S check me out on Ao3 and feel free to send prompts!! 😁