#you can certainly ask it not be brought to your own spaces! you can seek out non-alcoholic spaces!

[utilitycaster]

Re: CW tags, I’m not sure if you’re in their Discord, but there’s a lot of people praising their CWs and I can’t help but feel that the mods and folks are hearing too much from a more…. Innocent? Younger? Naive to the point of a vice? voices — literally folks posting in the Dirty Laundry channel about how uncomfortable drinking/drunk people make them.

I'm in the Discord but literally only use it for alerts. I've heard though that the Neverafter/d20 channels had people saying "hey, these warnings are weird and not terribly useful."

I think this ask will be all I have left to say about content warnings - I get that this is a tough topic but also I know for a fact I'm really not the right person to facilitate a good discussion about this. But yeah, I do think that there is a shift among a subset younger people from "hey, it would be good if we flagged certain commonly upsetting topics so that people could make informed choices on whether to engage" to "This makes me uncomfortable and it's important everyone around me know that and I expect others to accomodate me at all times without having to take responsibility." On some level it's like...look, I do like casual drinking, but I respect if you don't and there are plenty of reasons not to want to engage with media where people are drinking, but also, like...I used to live in an apartment building that had a bar next door. The fastest way to my old apartment from my train stop was past a brewpub that during the pandemic put in extensive outdoor seating. The goal of content warnings should be to let people know if they need to avoid a work or at least come into it prepared, but any reasonable therapy for PTSD includes how to cope with common things that most people wouldn't consider triggering (like casual drinking) if you encounter it in the world, because you will.

I'm also though on the cynical side here, which is tough because it makes me sound like some kind of conservative and I am most assuredly not that, but like...about a year and a half ago I posted about how I find a lot of safety tools in TTRPGs are really limited and I would personally rather just...talk with my players, and make it clear that you can just say "stop", and I got some unhinged responses from people who could not fucking comprehend that this worked better for me than some elaborate colored card system, and were either very self-absorbed, or deeply unpleasant and insulting about it. I think a lot of the loudest voices when it comes to things like content warnings and ensuring people are unfortunately some of the least empathetic or thoughtful voices, even though there are many empathetic and thoughtful people around.

I guess I'll leave on this note, which is that I was in a club in college and we often said it was a safe space, and finally, one of my closest friends, who had joined a year later having first come with her then-partner, who broke up with her shortly after but remained a member as well, fucking snapped and said something to the effect of "I like it here, but my ex is always here too, so this is, inherently, not a space where I always feel comfortable and it's obnoxious and alienating to insist it is or that it should be." And it was really eye-opening, and it's something I've always kept in mind. If you try to guarantee a safe space you are doomed to fail and your efforts might make it worse. If you try to make a space where you are open about what can be expected, what shouldn't be expected, and hold room for dialogue, respectful dissent, and permit people to leave, that is far kinder and more effective. Which in the context of content warnings does mean calling out common triggers, perhaps offering, if you can, open, separate places for people to ask specific questions that pertain to them, but also assuming a certain degree of genre awareness.

[adaptacy]

A Found Flame

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3) {Spotify Playlist}

Synopsis: Gale guides you through casting a fire bolt, but in your search to find a warmth to channel, you revisit a late night with him that stirs up an unfamiliar feeling within you.

A/N: Completely SFW! Just cute romantic stuff while I continue crackin' away at this fine ass dork I've been presented with. I might turn this into a much longer story, because the dynamic of Mentor!Gale falling for his apprentice has so much potential, from fluff to angst to sexual tension, etc... but for now, here's this :) and with a side of the ever-lovely Tara!

Song rec.: Witchcraft - Vian Izak (X)

Word Count: 2k

“Now, right foot further… further…” A hand comes to rest on your hip, and you feel a tap against your right ankle, guiding your movements. You glance down, distracted from your target, and your mentor lets out a soft chuckle, his free hand moving under your arm. Two fingers push up on your chin, realigning your head. Doing your best to follow his directions, your right foot shifts forward, inching awkwardly across the ground until you no longer feel his shoe against your calf. 

“Should I aim for the head?”

“The head?” He laughs, his fingers pulling away from your chin, his arm outstretching to be parallel with yours, showing you where to position your own. “No, Tempus, let’s keep it simple,” he teases, pointing a finger at the torso of a hay-stuffed target, elderly chainmail armor lazily draped over its shoulders. “Eyes on the torso. And, please, do refrain from igniting my tower in a fiery blaze. These shelves took far too long to fill.” 

“I know, I know, I’ve got it,” you assure, earning a mewl of disbelief from a tabby Tressym resting a few feet away from the target, her tail and front paws hanging off of an empty space on the aforementioned bookshelves. 

“Mr. Dekarios, are you sure this is the safest we can be?” Tara purrs, her right wing twitching, likely anxious that you were bound to do exactly as he asked you not to and burn the whole tower down.

“I trust them, Tara. After all, books can only get one so far. Hands-on practice is far more valuable!” He encourages, leaning down slightly, enough that you can hear his breathing beside your ear. “Now. Steady. Focus… and picture it. A small flame, mostly harmless. Landing square on the torso, created from your very–”

“Ignis!” You shout, and Tara shoots up from where she was laying, bouncing away from the target and landing on a pile of books. Despite her reaction, there was no flame, though you swore you could’ve spotted a spark from your fingertip.

Gale lowers his arm, giving you a little more space, and he removes his hand from your hip, even taking a step back, perhaps a little too aware of the vicinity between your bodies. “Again. The pronunciation was exquisite, I must avow. Reach into your mind, no matter how far you must travel. Hear her whispers, channel the inferno within. Whether it be rage, passion, optimism – you must grasp the element, and feel the heat,” he explains, earning a small nod from you. Your eyes close, and you seek out the embers he spoke of. 

Your mind wanders– it has to, if you truly want to tame the element, no part of your mind should be off limits. Though it travels to unexpected places. You most certainly find warmth, it just wasn’t the warmth you expected. It wasn’t a burn, yet it was a heat. One that hovered around your body, brought on by closeness to another, breathing figure. You could see books, and the moon, hanging high outside, the room coated with a gentle blue glow. It was strange, like you were inspecting a faded picture rather than experiencing a dream. 

Hardening your focus, you grit your teeth. There was a purring, quiet, under the desk. Yes! You sat at the desk, seated on a small velvet stool, stationed next to a figure cloaked in purple. His arm, carefully positioned to allow you to gaze at and read along with the book he studied, brushing lightly against your shoulder. It couldn’t have been more than two weeks ago, during one of your late-night mentoring sessions, when he’d caught you sneaking around in the library, looking for something to keep your sleepless mind occupied. 

Reminding yourself of the mission at hand, you search for inspiration, and find a lone lit candle towards the back of the desk, the glow encapsulating the two of you and casting light on the material you read. With a deep breath, you do your best to channel that candle. As small as it was, it seemed the most helpful component in finding the blaze Gale directed, and you exhaled. 

“Ignis!” 

Your eyes open, feeling a half-second surge of heat in your fingertips, and much to your surprise, a tiny flame shot out from your index finger, though it fell to the floor and sizzled out before it made it halfway to your target. 

Still, it was enough to earn a chuckle and a series of short claps from your mentor, pleased with your performance even with as amateur as it was. “See, Tara? Hardly a threat to the books!” 

The tressym’s wings stretch, and her body follows, leaning back on her haunches as she yawns. With a flick of her tail, she muses “Hardly a threat to anyone, for that matter! I’m quite sure a crocked kobold could muster up a drink stronger than that.” 

“Oh, be patient, Tara. Everyone must start somewhere.” You spot Gale’s shadow waving his hand dismissively, before that shadow approaches yours, and you feel a hand on each of your shoulders. “I presume you found your root. Return, and study it. Learn it. Conform to it. Again.”

You inhale, and once more close your eyes, returning to the moonlit scene. The candle seemed dimmer, now, and you wonder if you’d somehow extracted the power from a memory. You’ve heard – well, read – about plenty of curious happenings related to the power and influence of the weave, but it was quite a different experience to feel those effects. You knew that you had focused quite closely on the candle, and yet it bore disappointing results. And now, that flame burned weaker.

It may be best to turn to other means of fuel. Your eyes scan the memory, contemplating the moon, before deciding it was far too tame, and far too distant to harness. The temperate coziness you felt in the moment pulses through you again, soothing your nerves, easing the racing of your heart. Warmth. 

It doesn’t take you long to realize just where the heat originates from. Though neither of you were aware in that moment, or perhaps you merely glossed over the fact, you sat close; in order to read the contents of the book, you had to be near to him. And near, you were. 

The time aided you, your fatigue stronger than your dignity, and allowed you to rest your head against his shoulder as you hardly managed to keep up with the lines of text, let alone truly process the material you were attempting to soak up. It was warm, despite the winter that hadn’t yet faded. He was warm. You’d been close with him before, though it was always fleeting. Accidentally bumping into him as you gathered materials around his study, or the second-long contact of your hands when you answered his fetch requests. Occasionally, when he guided your hand to some place in particular, over the ridges of a carved staff or the spines of books on his shelves. Even once, just once, that he’d allowed you to press your palm against his chest, his purple robe displaced just enough to expose the stain of the Netherese orb, which had produced an alarming heat from beneath his skin, and he’d felt inclined to share it with you. 

But here, this memory, this occurrence, was hardly fleeting. He must have been willed by weary exhaustion just as well, because he didn’t shy away from the close contact. Instead, Gale rested his jaw against the top of your head, continuing to idly review the book he’d read countless times. You were sure that, if he had fewer things to concern himself with, he very well could have recited the lectures on dead gods from memory. 

You hear a distant ‘mrrow’ of boredom and you recount your steps, regaining sight of your mission once more. You relax your body, only maintaining enough control to keep yourself standing, and your arm aimed. As you burn this sight, this time with him, and these feelings into your memory – should you ever need to recall the sight again, perhaps in future lessons, you want to be prepared – there is an airiness that wraps your body. Although you are planted firmly on a surface, both in the real world and in this vision, it feels as though you’ve been granted feather falling and have leapt from the balcony, becoming one with the breeze. And yet there is no chill, there is no bite from the rush of air, merely a dazing high. 

His breathing is all you hear. Mellow and stable. You focus on the patterned flow, the delicate and inviting tepidity, the velvety brush of his clothes against your face. 

“Love?”

Your eyes open, head swiveling around to face him, and he seems taken aback by your response. You aren’t sure you heard him right, and he isn’t sure you heard him right either, so he points behind you, head tilting slightly. Following his attention, you find that the target now displays a moderately-sized searing hole in the torso, near the right shoulder. You don’t recall announcing the spell, but it’s quite possible that you were too wrapped up in channeling the fire bolt to realize you’d casted it. 

When your attention clings to the training dummy for too long, Gale steps into your peripherals, and you turn to face him once more. Again, he motions towards your successful delivery. “Flames and Fatalities, volume one, chapter four.”

“Red for rage, orange for survival, white for hope, pink for love,” you recite, easily recalling the information provided in one of the spellbooks Gale had you study several times over.

“Precisely. Your flame contained a pink hue,” he elaborates, and your gaze flicks over to the training dummy, and then back at Gale. 

A familiar warmth brushes against your ankle, and you look down, finding a sassy winged creature at your feet. “At least someone in this tower seeks romantic companionship. Mr. Dekarios may very well have something to learn himself,” Tara purrs, and Gale releases a short sigh at her taunt, running a hand through his loose brown hair. “You used to be such a romantic. Though you seem much more of the hopeless kind these days.”

“Well, Tara, I don’t possess an acropolis of free time, I fear. Romantic pursuits do not fit into my schedule,” Gale attempts to defend, though Tara merely tilts her chin up and turns her head away from him, tail stiffening with antipathy. When you look up from the feline-like familiar, you find Gale eyeing you, splitting his sight away the moment your eyes meet, rendering you incapable of registering whatever strange emotion you thought you caught a glimpse of in his eyes. 

You don’t like the taste of the unforeseen tightness in the air, so you clear your throat, looking around the study. “Hells, I forgot to tend to the garden yesterday. Does that sum up my teachings today?” You ask, looking back at Gale. He stares at the mannequin for a few moments more, and for a second, you fear that you’d damaged it too much, but then he releases a gentle laugh, dipping his head.

“Indeed. You performed marvelously. Go on, I’ve got artifacts to busy myself with. If you’re not back by the time I finish, I’ll put together a meal.” Gale motions for the main doors, and steps past you, approaching a mid-sized woven basket containing a staff, an enchanted dagger, and a pair of leather gloves shining a faint orange hue. You watch him, and he pauses as he lifts the basket, glancing at you from over his shoulder, his smile aged, though it held a certain pride in the catenary of his lips. “May I ask?”

Confused, you narrow your eyes. “Ask what?”

“Where did you find your flame?”

Allowing yourself a moment to think, you made sure to keep your eyes on him, and then you provide a nonchalant shrug. “I thought of my parents.” 

Gale is still, his reaction a delayed one, before he widens his smile in a quick chuckle. “Charming. Hold onto that. It’s a solid base.”

You nod, and then finally turn around as Gale resumes moving the basket from the floor to his desk. You grab an empty basket of your own on the way out, disappearing and leaving him to his artifacts. 

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine - Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 4.1k

TW: Mentions of past trauma and the episode Revelations, mentions of drug use, emotional exhaustion, blood, vomit, drinking, People hunting People, injury, swearing

A/N: idk why but this one was so difficult to write, but that means a part 3 so I can resolve the issues in the way I want to, and not be pissed with the middle bits. Also it's literaLLY been over a week, so sorry for the lack of Spencer content. I just completed my last first week of college so that was crazy.

Part 1

There was something that Spencer was not telling you. After an extremely emotional reunion that involved tears, and a hug that lasted for over two consecutive minutes, Spencer apologized to you. He said he was sorry. Now what for, you couldn’t possibly imagine then. But now? 

You were given seven days of paid recovery to help Spencer cope with the traumas he had endured. Spencer was given as much time as he needed. You managed to fuck around with the schedule, so that way you only worked Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for three weeks, giving you ample time to spend with Spencer, while also providing him with space of his own to cope. He was an independent creature, so him needing a day to recover on his own made sense to you. But when he told you he was ready to come back to the BAU, you hesitated. 

You’re not stupid. Your PhD alone could counter that fact. But the profiling skills you had sharpened over the past two years were certainly a help. But you didn’t need to profile Doctor Spencer Reid in order to tell him that going back this soon was not the best idea. 

And he argued with you—yelled at you. The two of you had spats, and a couple arguments here and there, but nothing like this. He claimed you didn’t know him; that you didn’t have his best interests at heart. 

“It’s like you only care about what’s good for me and bad for me whenever it’s convenient for you.” 

Your jaw had dropped. You wanted to cry, but you were more so offended at the fact that Spencer had the audacity to claim you put yourself first. But you knew that wasn’t your Spencer, he was coping with trauma, and you were trying to care for him, support him.

“Spencer. You need to take more time and reall–”

“I’m done listening to someone who didn’t even show up to save me from digging my own fucking grave.” 

You ended up working that Thursday, going back to full time, leaving him to his own devices. Was it a little selfish of you to not speak to him and leave him to his own devices while he was coping with unspeakable traumas? Sure. But when Spencer spat that at you, pettiness took over, deciding that clearly he didn’t want to speak to you, so you wouldn’t.

When he came back, it was wrong. Something was wrong. Spencer was despondent, distant, not actually talking to you for days on end unless he had to. He would snap at people, specifically Emily and you. He would disappear for a couple of minutes at a time, appearing moments later when someone asked where he was. 

Which brought you to your conclusion, Spencer was hiding something from you. You knew, okay well you didn’t know per se, but you assumed he wasn’t cheating on you—you hoped he wasn’t cheating on you. You couldn’t blame him if he was, I mean seeking comfort when he needed it, and clearly whatever you were doing was just not enough. But you were hoping that he wasn’t sleeping around. The alternatives weren’t better, providing you with absolutely no comfort.

Your hypothesis led you to Hotch’s office. You knocked on the door, pushing the door in slightly, since it was already opened. You closed the door behind you once Hotch had given you the okay, the head nod of approval. 

He motioned for you to sit down in the chair across from him, which you did. Hotch always let you speak first, knowing you didn’t need the go ahead. It was something you appreciated about him. One day you would have to tell him how much you appreciated it. 

“I think Spencer is using.” It was blunt. It was emotionless. Not exactly what Hotch was expecting from you, especially since he watched as you held a broken Spencer in your arms right after they brought him to you covered in dirt, limping, injured, but alive. 

He nodded, and picked up his phone, calling Gideon into his office. Hotch had his own theories, his own thoughts on the matter, and so did Gideon. 

Once Gideon had sat on the arm of the chair next to you, you continued. 

“You don’t need me to tell a room full of profilers that clearly something is wrong with him. He’s despondent, he’s had moments where he’s an extreme aggressor, he’s been losing weight, he has the lines around his eyes—do I need to go on or did I just confirm your theories?” 

Gideon and Hotch looked at one another before Hotch spoke. “We were hoping you’d actually say he was just coping poorly, not with drugs.” 

You sighed and shook your head. “Hotch, I‘ve been at Emily’s the past couple of nights since we….had an argument.” Causing you to scoff and fiddle with the necklace along your neck. “But he’s definitely using, probably dilaudid since that’s probably what Tobias was using to subdue him.” 

“Have you confronted him about it?” 

“Have you?” You shot back a little meaner than you meant, but the sentiment still stood. 

“Well, what do we want to do about it?”  Gideon looked between the three of you, and before someone could come up with an answer, JJ had knocked on the door. “We have a cas—oh! Sorry. Sorry. We um. We have a case.” 

“We’ll be there in a moment. Thank you JJ.” Hotch nodded at her, as she exited, closing the door behind her. “We’ll discuss this later.” 

You nodded and stood up, exiting the office. You felt the eyes of the bullpen on you. But you just walked towards the round room, not a word to anyone. Your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was looking directly at you, brow creased, worry lines on full display. You eyed him up and down, a subtle challenge on your part, but nothing else as you left the room. 

“Pretty boy’s in trouble…” Derek smirked slightly, nudging Reid with his shoulder. But Reid just shot him a look before getting up and walking towards where you were. 

None of them had really seen you act like this. Something was wrong, and everyone knew it. You hadn’t had flowers on your desk for almost a week, there was no humming from your lips, and you were out the door right as the clock hit 5, not saying your usual goodbyes. 

Right as Spencer sat down in his usual seat, he went to speak, your name on his lips, everyone else entered. Another case, another excuse for you to not talk directly to him for the next thirty minutes. 

People were hunting people.

You, like most other public school kids in America, had read Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game, leaving you scared and questioning the real morals of humanity, only slightly boosting your own ego thinking of all the ways you could survive. Most kids had not taken the short story as an instruction manual, but apparently these two brothers did. 

The past few days apart have taken a toll on Spencer. He didn’t mean to push you away, except that he did, and the more guilty he had felt about it, the worse he felt. You were kind, and brilliant, and so caring, and pushing you away was the easiest answer. He didn’t mean to say that to you. He knew why you were told to stay back at the house, knowing you could have lost your job–but he wondered why you didn’t fight for him, he would’ve fought tooth and nail to be the first one to get to you, so why didn’t you?

But when you volunteered first to go into the woods where you could get shot through the heart with an arrow instead of checking the boy’s family home, he knew he was fucked, and some sick and twisted part of him thought he deserved it. 

You were just sick and tired of not being treated properly. You missed him, you really did. But if he was going to keep acting like this, if he was going to keep using, then he needed to make the executive decision about you both. It fucking killed you, but god damn if you weren’t the stubborn type. Spencer was just not used to being on the receiving end of it. 

When Spencer had heard that both of the brothers had been killed, he was relieved, regardless of the trail of bodies left behind, because you were still okay. Even if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, you deserved better.

Hotch had followed your wishes, and gave you a separate hotel room, letting the team know that this really was a breaking point for you. When the whole team, sans you, returned to the police station, his blood pressure rose and it took everything in his power to remain calm, only being able to focus once Hotch had mentioned you wanted to go shower and change your clothes—you had received the heavy end of blood on your clothes, graciously donated by the eldest of the two brothers. 

Reid nodded, excusing himself. What if you were hurt and you didn’t even tell him, or anyone for that matter. What if you were just bleeding out on the floor of your shower, in a hotel room, all alone? The spiraling didn’t stop until he found himself at your hotel room door, unable to knock.

You had quickly made your way back to your hotel room, not wanting to deal with the attention you might have received for the gash in your arm. The blood blended nicely with the rest of the blood that had seeped into your once blue shirt, so no one was any wiser. The shower you had taken had helped a little bit, but now you had a major cut down the side of your inner arm, and bandaging it was good enough, for now. 

The bed was not comfortable enough for your liking, but it was good enough to lay on and stare at the ceiling, questioning all of the choices you had made up until this moment. Ignoring the pain in your arm, you just laid there. 

You were exhausted. Your relationship was exhausting. Your whole life was exhausting, and honestly, it would just be better if you took a moment to fall asleep and then just never wake up. 

But life had other plans. 

Spencer finally knocked on your door.  

You knew it was Spencer by the way he knocked. Short, quick, but in the same pattern he always had. 

“It’s unlocked.” You yelled, not moving to stand up from your location on the bed. It was unlocked because you wanted him knew he would show up. An aerial view might have rivaled Fuseli’s Nightmare, but instead of the luscious red drapes and printed silks, you were in a mediocre hotel room bed. The damp hair, the wounded arm, the distressed sheets framing your carelessly tossed body–it was the definition of a modern renaissance painting. 

Spencer slowly came into the room and closed the door behind him. 

“Spencer. What can I help you with?” You didn’t even look over at him, voice flat. 

“You didn’t come back to the station s-so I wanted to c-check in on you…”

“I’m fine.”

“Your arm–”

“--Is fine.” Your voice was sharp, cutting him off. 

“Are you–’

“Sure? Yes.”

“You haven’t been home in a couple of days…”

You scoffed as he said the word home. You knew he was standing near the edge of the bed, willing you to look at him. You felt him standing there, you heard the desperation in his voice. 

“What did I say?” 

“Spencer. I’d really rather not dance around whatever it is that’s been going on with you because I’d hope that you’d love me more than that, and if not, then at least you would have respected me enough.” You went to sit up, but winced as you put pressure on your arm. You should be glaring at him, and your face was definitely communicating that, but your eyes were soft and caring, like they always had been. You could never hate him, but you definitely required an apology for his previous behavior. 

He sighed and rubbed the palms of his hands in his eyes. “It’s complicated y/n.” 

“Enlighten me then.” You sat all the way up, hands clasped together, in your lap. “Please, tell me what is so complicated.”

“What were you doing in Hotch’s office before this whole case started.” He blurted out, hands fidgeting, eyes looking into yours. 

“Why do you want to know?” 

“Because if you said something—anything to Hotch about the whole coping thing, I could lose my job.” 

“Is there a reason your coping would make you lose your job?” 

Spencer’s face twisted into something unrecognizable. His hand started twitching, he started to itch his arm. 

“You’re surrounded by profilers Spencer. And we know you’re hiding something. I know you’re hiding something. And I wish you—god Spencer you just pushed me away and I wish you would Fucking talk to me instead of the fact that you’re clearly coping in an unhealthy way—when’s the last time you actually slept? More than thirty minutes?” 

Spencer licked his lips, staying silent. 

You scoffed. “That’s what I thought.” You stood up, almost toe to toe with Spencer. God you missed him. Your body almost started to lean into his, wanting to kiss him, wanting to hold him, but you just walked around him, careful not to let him touch you at all. You grabbed your coat and wallet, and slammed the hotel room door shut. 

Derek had just opened his door, leather jacket on, sunglasses on his head. “You look like you need a drink sweetheart.” 

“You should be a profiler.” You snorted, pulling your coat on. 

“Your arm–” 

“--Is fine. Jesus Christ.” You started to walk but stopped and turned around, eyebrows raised. “Are you going to join me or what Morgan.” 

Derek gave you a mini salute and followed you as you walked down the stairs. 

You two ended up in some local townie bar, opposite sides of the booth. You had ordered a shot of tequila before getting something you can slowly sip on. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

You rolled your eyes and took a sip before sighing. “He hasn’t spoken to me one on one in a week, and the first thing he said to me was asking if my talk with Hotch before this case was about him. Not how are you, not even an ‘I miss you’, he just pointed out that I haven’t been home like no shit Sherlock, I know I haven’t been home.” 

Derek nodded and took a sip of his drink. 

“I just—honestly, can we talk about anything else right now? I really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Derek smiled at you, putting his beer down. “So JJ is one hundred percent seeing that detective from New Orleans.” 

You laughed and nodded. “Acting as if we can’t hear her when she takes phone calls from him. It’s ridiculous..”

Derek was a godsend. He had seen you in the hallway, slamming the door, and knew you had needed someone to go out drinking with. He distracted you, pulling topics out of his ass just to help you keep your mind off of Reid. He even helped you walk back, not that you were blackout, but walking in a straight line was not your strong suit at the moment. Once he had made sure you had made it into your room, and we’re settled on the bed, he knocked on Spencer’s door. 

Reid opened the door, slightly confused as to why Morgan was knocking on his door at 2 am. “Yeah?” 

“Fix this. Whatever it is that’s going on…” Derek felt bad for Reid, he really did, but he was not about to condone whatever shitty behavior Reid was on right now. “I’ll see you in the morning, pretty boy.” And with that, Derek placed your room key in Spencer’s hand, and then went into his own room.

Spencer stared at the key, not really sure what to do, but eventually he found himself opening your door, and called out your name. 

You were draped dramatically over the toilet, a renaissance painting if you would. You let out a groan, regretting the last two shots of….something you don’t really remember. You heard Spencer toe off his shoes and make his way into the bathroom. 

“Oh honey…” he whispered, sitting down next to you. 

“I’m so mad at you.” You whispered into the toilet, clearly too drunk to let your filter cover anything you felt. “Like.” You hiccuped and groaned. “You called me a whore in front of all my friends, knowing it wasssn’t true..and then after a week of me”–another hiccup and groan again– “helping you and holding you….you push me away like you don’t even love me.” 

If Spencer could see your face, your eyes would have melted him on the spot. But he didn’t need to see your eyes to hear your voice crack. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He whispered, hesitantly putting a hand on your back, rubbing his thumb up and down.  

“That feels good but I’m still mad.” You grumbled. After a quick inhale, “No.” 

“No, what?” 

“No, I'm gonna throw up. Fuck. Oh god I hate it Spence it tastes so gross. No no no.” You mumbled, sitting up on your knees, forehead on your arms as you coughed into the toilet. 

Spencer sat up with you, kissing the back of your head, fully rubbing your back. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. Let it out.” 

“Shut up. No.” You mumbled, the pet name making your head even more dizzy than before. “I refuse to vomit.”

You kept coughing, doing your best to not vomit, really really trying so hard. 

Spencer cooed your name. “The sooner you throw up, the better you’ll feel.” 

“That sounds like a lie the government made up.” You grumbled into the toilet.

Spencer laughed at you, still rubbing your back. 

“God you probably think I’m so fucking ugly.” 

Spencer shook his head, forgetting you couldn’t see him. “No. No. I promise baby. I still think you’re the prettiest FBI agent on the planet.” 

“Is there some CIA agent I need to worry about?” You joked before shaking your head. “Don’t look at me Spence. I’m gonna vomit and it’s gonna be so ugly and you’ll never ever want to kiss me ever again.” 

“Okay well that’s not true.” 

“Promise me you want, wait no, won't watch.” You mumbled, your breaths becoming shorter. 

“I promise, I promise.” He rubbed your back as you vomited, absolutely breaking his promise, making sure you didn’t choke or pass out or worse. 

Once it was over you let out a groan. “Mother fucking Christ. My mouth tastes so bad.” 

Spencer flushed the toilet for you and handed you some toilet paper for you to wipe your mouth with. “Thank you.” 

Spencer kissed your head again. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been home.” You mumbled, resting your head on your arms, face in the toilet bowl again. “It just feels like you didn’t want me home.” You whispered, and if not for the echo of the toilet bowl, Spencer was almost certain he wouldn’t have heard you. 

“I always want you home.” He kissed your head, reaching for one of your hands to make you look at him, causing you to tilt your head, still laying your head on your arms. 

“Full disclosure?”

Spencer nodded at you, kissing your hand. 

“No Spence, I need to hear you say it.” 

“Full disclosure.” 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to make me make you admit to me what’s been happening.” You sighed. 

Spencer looked down, fiddling with your hand, staying silent. 

“I did talk to Hotch about you.” 

He looked up at you, eyes mixed with emotions flashing between hurt, shame, embarrassment, but you saw a moment of relief, an exhale, somewhere in there. 

“He and Gideon have their own theories about it, Spence but ...whatever it is, I want you to come to me, I want you to talk to me about it. I’m only going to leave if you push me away.” 

“When Tobias would, uh, appear…” you nodded, letting him continue. “He would uh, he would…” 

“Dilaudid?”. 

Spencer nodded. 

“You know you’re—please hold.” You mumbled, and you started coughing again. 

“What did Morgan give you, my god.” He mumbled. 

“I drank of my own accord thank you very much.” You grumbled, not exactly thrilled at your predicament either. 

Spencer pursed his lips. 

Tobais Hankel had a gun to his head, ready to end his life, and all Spencer could think about was you. Your face, your hair, your hands, your lips, you. In his last moment, he didn’t want to see Hankel, he wanted to see you. 

But then he saw the flashlights, heard the rustling, and you were coming to him. God he couldn’t wait to be in your arms, he couldn't wait to sleep in your arms. 

He quickly overcame Tobais, snatching the gun from him, and eventually shooting him. He heard Hotch’s voice, he heard the running, he heard Tobais as he died in front of him, but he couldn’t hear you. 

The team helped him up, helped him walk away, but why weren’t you with them? The cars were empty, no one inside of them. The only answer he had received from hotch was that you had been ordered to stay behind but why didn’t you fight for him? 

Only when the car pulled up to the police station did he watch as you shoved your way through the doors and some officers, eyes scanning quickly across the three black SUVs, not knowing which one he was in. 

Your hand never left your neck, breathing quickly, analyzing all of the faces that came out of the cars, watching and hoping they would have him. He watched as you became more and more anxious, not seeing his face. 

Suddenly, Gideon opened the door for him, and helped him out the car. Blood stained his pants, dirt covered half of his body, and he was sure he smelt like fish guts and death, but the way you whispered “oh thank god” when you saw him, made him feel a million times lighter. 

Your arms were around his torso right as he heard the car door slam shut, causing him to jump at the contact and the noise. He felt the tears coming to his eyes, and your tears on his chest. 

“I watched you-you…” You whispered, holding him tighter, as if letting him go meant he would disappear forever. 

“I know, I know. I lo–”

“Spencer?” Your eyes were scanning his face. “You went quiet on me.” 

His eyes snapped back to you, feeling the cool tile beneath his hand as he exhaled. “Sorry. Just…thinking.”

“That’s never been too hard for you before.” You snorted, giggling at how absolutely hysterical you were. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Thanks sweetheart.” 

“You’re so welcome Spence.” 

He watched as your eyes started to close, body slumping as you struggled to stay conscious. 

“Let’s get you to be yeah?” 

You mumbled something he would only assume was “no” and peeled your head off of the toilet anyways. 

Getting you to abandon the toilet and back into your bed was one of the hardest things Spencer Reid has ever accomplished. The bed was way too warm, and not as cool as the tile floor, causing you to mumble profanities at him the whole time, fighting against his help. You also were starting to doze off, meaning Spencer couldn’t fully walk you to bed, causing you to grumble even more at the fact that you had to be standing, and moving. 

Once you were horizontal on the correct surface, Spencer went to speak to you, but you were no longer conscious, drifting off to sleep the second your head hit the pillow. 

He kissed your forehead, and headed towards the door, a smile on his face as he heard you mumble those three little words. 

“I love you too.” He whispered back, turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. 

Maybe all of this wasn’t irrevocably damaged, maybe he wasn’t irrevocably damaged, and maybe, he could fix this. 

Next Part

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: no one has ever wanted to be tagged in my work before so I’m HONORED. Im absolutely willing to add more people to be tagged in this mini series if anyone else wants to be! but this is for you girl boss <3

@raely-study

[brightlilith]

Blue Sea - 1

Mastelist - MCU Mastelist

Blue Sea - Masterlist

Request open Buy me a coffee

Next chapter →

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x retired spy!reader

Summary: Following the events of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes is trying to adapt to a normal life, but is forced to join forces with a retired CIA spy to stop an old enemy seeking revenge. They certainly don't like each other, but they have incredible chemistry.

Warning: Violence, fighting, possible angst and fluff stress, post-traumatic stress, death, messy psychological, and more will be added later.

A/N: Who doesn't love an enemies to lovers? English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical and spelling errors. Constructive criticism and supportive messages are always welcome, it motivates me to keep writing. Let me know if something is wrong, my dm is always open. kisses💋

Like, comment, and/or reblog I would be very grateful 🩷

The beach stretches out before me, empty and serene. The sun sets on the horizon, painting the sky with shades of orange and red. The waves gently break on the shore, creating a soothing sound that seems to dance to the rhythm of the wind. Birds gracefully fly over the water, occasionally diving to catch fish. It is a place of tranquility and solitude.

With my eyes closed, I allow myself to get lost in my thoughts, trying to make sense of the things that trouble me. The waves and the wind whisper comforting words, as if trying to console me. I am completely absorbed in my own mind, trying to find answers to difficult questions that continue to torment me.

Suddenly, I am brought back to reality by a familiar voice. I open my eyes to find my therapist, Dr. Raynor, sitting across from me. We are in her office, where there are only two chairs and a simple table between us. The blue walls convey a sense of melancholy that makes me uncomfortable.

I feel pressured and exposed, even though I know the intention is the opposite. The room seems small compared to the vastness of the beach, and the atmosphere is stifling. The presence of my therapist makes me feel vulnerable, and the idea of sharing my deepest thoughts and emotions with her makes me uneasy.

As she starts talking, I try to make myself comfortable in the chair, but the feeling of discomfort persists. As she tries to encourage me to share, I feel like a caged bird, wanting to fly back to the deserted and lonely beach. The room is a contrast to my refuge on the beach, and I long for freedom and open space.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was calm.

"When am I okay?" I lift my head to look at her.

"I don't know, you tell me." She smiles gently.

"Never."

"Are you doing the exercises I mentioned?" she asks.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't need to." I sigh. "I'm fine on my own."

Dr. Raynor stares at me for a few seconds before jotting something down on her clipboard, it's not a good thing I would say, I just sigh and close my eyes trying to go back to the beach, but it didn't work. My phone started ringing, its annoying sound made me want to throw it away.

"You should answer that," she said without taking her eyes off the clipboard.

"I'm fine." I rested my head on the hand that was propped on the arm of the chair.

She looked at me with a quizzical look, sighed, and reached out for the phone.

"It's Sam." She said after I handed her the device.

"Good for him."

"You don't even have 10 contacts here." She scrolled through my phone.

"Maybe because some are dead and others are missing, what can I do?" I replied sarcastically.

"Why are you here, y/n? What is your purpose?

"I'm on probation, and I want to get rid of you." I smirked sardonically.

She looked at me in a way that I understood she would jot that down, but I just shrugged, it wasn't the first time. She handed me the phone back, and when I looked at it, I realized that I had not just one call from Samuel, but several... but the message he sent me caught my attention.

What the fuck.

© morganaah/brightlilith ─ all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other platforms.

[theelvenhaven]

Dating Rog

As a Human & Celebrating the Summer Solstice

A/N: A special request from @nerdysimpy <;3

****

♕ When it comes to nature celebrations, the elves are certainly no strangers to them, including Rog.

♕ Though the human way of celebrating the Summer Solstice is completely lost on him.

♕ So when you first tell him about what it is you do for the Summer Solstice, Rog's curiosity is peaked and he is very interested in doing things the way you do them.

♕ Rog values putting in effort to make sure that your culture doesn't get left behind and forgotten in the world of Elves that you now live amongst.

♕ He asks you a lot of questions about Summer Solstice and how it is you celebrate the holiday.

♕ As you explain it to him, Rog is more than happy to get amped up and excited to do things your way instead of it being a quiet affair.

♕ Rog will of course go to the King with news of your festivities though he'd prefer to keep things private between the two of you and any of the few elves in his House who may take interest.

♕ It is not because King Turgon will disapprove, it is mostly to get the word out that you are celebrating a holiday from your culture so you aren't rudely interrupted.

♕ When the day of the Solstice comes, Rog gets just as excited as you asking what the first thing it is that you should do.

♕ Because you are human, your concept of the Valar differ from Rog's knowledge so you explain to him how traditionally this is a time where altars and offerings are set up.

♕ While it seems strange to him, nonetheless he works with you making a space to set up an Altar, and listening to you go through your prayers as you set up your offerings on the Altar.

♕ Rog is right there with you handing you things, and offering prayers of his own alongside you really getting into the festive spirit of ritual and celebration.

♕ With your Altar, offerings and prayers prepared, you move onto the next task that might seem more ritualistic and that is water work and eventually fire work as well.

♕ Rog will have made sure that you can go around and spend your time outside blessing the waters, and that a place for a bonfire can be held.

♕ Though Rog will be thrilled to know that one of the more fun practices of your Summer Solstice celebration is swimming and he will encourage his House staff to participate and enjoy themselves too.

♕ He loves how carefree yet important the Holiday is to you and in how you celebrate it.

♕ When it comes time to set up the bonfire, Rog would have made sure that everyone was prepared to have something made and brought to the tables he set up out there.

♕ Before letting you ceremoniously light up your bonfire with a cheering crowd from those in the House.

♕ Lively music will be played as he remembers you telling him about the revelry portion of the celebration.

♕ With outdoor games that you would've told him about that you did in your childhood.

♕ Even if that means it was just a simple game of tag or hide and seek, the fun would still be had amongst nerri and nissi.

♕ What he finds to be the most fun is the dancing around the bonfire with you, the heat reminds him of the forge yet he can be more carefree- to a degree- around this massive bonfire.

♕ Rog will sing with you all the songs you taught him, and teach it to the other elves who will catch on quick and sing along with you and the Lord of the house.

♕ His House will have come alive with other elves who are more than willing to indulge in your culture and celebrations as you guys spend it out enjoying a beautiful summer day and evening.

♕ As the celebration doesn't end until it's well into the next morning

♕ Either way Rog will make sure to make it a memorable experience for you both, and so you can enjoy your culture in your new elven home.

****

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

[heiayen]

tap, tap, tap.

the three soft knocks resound through the room, before a hooded figure slips in through the now-ajar katalox doors. a sigh is heard. “i wasn’t expecting anyone to be in.” 

“ahem. you are mx. heia, correct? i.. come in peace. you may have heard of me somewhere– i’m known by most as the ‘messenger’.”

the ‘messenger’ rummages through the pockets of their cloak. “there’s a letter for you–” they slide a neatly-sealed envelope across the desk. “here.”

the ‘messenger’ turns to leave, but stops. “oh, i nearly forgot– you’re advised to read the letter after you’ve attended the masquerade of the guilty. that is all. take care.” with a curt nod and a swish of their cloak, you are left to be alone in your room once more.

Cordial greetings, Mx. Heia.  It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I must first apologise for how long it has taken for you to receive this little letter. I do hope you aren’t upset at the delay, worried you’d scared me off, or anything of the like. Well, whatever the case, I write to you today with a little question in mind.  Fontaine is a nation that has long been known for its judicial system, and its arts scene. Most notably, it’s also known for its Archon— who lives for the spectacle of the courtroom, and who seeks to judge all other Gods. The Hydro Archon, the Regina of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples and Laws, Focalors. Or Furina de Fontaine. A being of many titles. One can never tell what she’s thinking, not with her approach to problems and her tendency to run from her own feelings. But I’ll try explaining how it feels like to love her. It’s a wild ride, not knowing what to expect. There almost seems to be something new about her that you learn every day. And it surprises you in the best ways, because she can be as sweet as those sixteen-slices-a-day cake she so adores, and yet there still seems to be an air of mystery around her, like the cloak of a mysterious figure you’d encounter in the middle of the woods on a foggy night. It’s exhilarating, but not exhausting, because she takes great care in making even the most mundane quotidian tasks fun while giving you ample time and space to breathe. (A wonderful talent to possess, if I may say so myself.) So how does it feel to be loved by her?  A simple colour sums it up. It’s a deep, royal purple. Well, such would be expected from the most celebrated figure in Fontaine. I recall an ancient saying that says Fontainians know best how to love. That truth has manifested in Lady Furina herself. Her love is like a lavish spread at a feast — lovely, rich, and seemingly never-ending. She loves with every fibre of her being, even despite the secrets she has to keep from you for the sake of her nation’s people, because you’re her solace— her reason to keep going on. At the end of the day, when the curtain call has come, she hopes that you’ll be standing there with open arms, waiting for her, and when you open your mouth, the first words that tumble out will be those that she’s been yearning so long to hear. Fate is a fickle thing, isn’t it?  It led you to me, brought me to you, and introduced the Hydro Archon to you. But fate also loves to play mean tricks on us sometimes. After all, the Hydro Archon is no more. All that’s left now is a regular human, who is at long last able to shed her mask and exit stage left. I do mourn this turn of events, but then again, who am I to judge a god’s decision? I am most certainly not in a place to judge a mortal either. Should you still choose to love Furina, after all that has happened, make sure she knows that your adoration comes from a place of utmost genuinity, for her love for you shall never once waver. I wish you well.

~‘printsessa’

hello. hello. i was planning to gatekeep this ask for myself because i love it so much but no.

i still love her!!! my baby!! i will scream into the night to prove my love for her if it's needed. i shall now cry over her, have a great day

[officialleehadan]

Of Darkness

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by Tirani! Darling, thank you so much for all your support! 

Prompt: Never a Hero

+++

Zarvast is a very different city than any I’ve seen before.

On the road west, we passed through the great desert. I know forest from the mountains around my home, but this city, built on stilts over a lake and thick with hanging vines, is something very different. Strange flowers line every space that is free for walking and rope bridges stand in for the streets of any other city. The traffic covers every walk of life, from the locals in their long, draping dresses, to the desert-folk in their robes, and travelers from the north, like me, in their fitted leathers and linen.

I do my best not to gape like the back-country hick I am. I mostly fail. Everywhere I turn seems to hold some new wonder of this vast trade-city. It’s the dry season, so the land beneath the stilt-raised city holds a sprawling market of many-colored tents and shouting traders. Through it all, the white-armored paladins who serve Zarvast’s massive Temple, weave through the crowd. As our cart bumps along the temporary road, I see them break up two fights, and hear the shouts as they capture a thief.

I don’t watch what happens to the thief. I know how city-folk handle them, and it isn’t something I care to see more than once.

“Where are we going first?” I ask my mistress, who has been to this city before, although many years ago. We are here seeking the final destination of the great demon who is our quarry, but I have no skill in such things. My abilities are more of the physical, although my bow does carry a handsome enchantment that creates a magical arrow of light every time I draw the string back. “The library? The Temple?”

“The inn,” my mistress says with a small laugh. She has traded her ornate mage robes for a simple, but lovely dress in the same ice blue as her eyes. It serves to make her look harmless, but also tempting in a way that draws the eyes. Her tawny skin and black hair shine against the pale blue. I have been very amused to note the many men, and some women, who stop in their tracks at the sight of her. Near as I can tell, my mistress has not noticed the attention she is drawing. “We certainly need not be carrying everything we own as we run our errands.”

The inn is luxurious by our usual standards, but we’re doing well for coin. There were a dozen small errands and tasks on the road here, and many paid handsomely with nowhere to spend our hard-earned money. As a result, we spend more than we normally would to secure one of the rooftop rooms, which comes with a small sitting room, and a very fine, if somewhat strange bathing room. Unlike the bathhouses I know well, this one has a small hatch in the ceiling that lets a flood of warm water fall from the ceiling like rain. There is a large soaking tub as well, and by my mistress’s sly smile, I know it will be a luxury for this evening.

Our gear settled, and protected by a very subtle ward laid on the windows and doors, we head into the market.

Dressed as ordinary folk, we blend into the crowd, even though I wear the soft tunic of my order, and my mistress is, as always, distractingly lovely. Her mage-focus is hidden in a bag at her side, but I wear my bow openly. I assumed I would be taken as her protection, which I am of course, but instead, she boldly takes my hand in an unmistakable way. I worry until I realize that this cosmopolitan city must see pairs like us, and seems to hardly look twice.

Well, some still look twice, but I am amused to see that many of the looks are envious of my good fortune and desirous of my beautiful mistress.

“You told me that Zarvast hunts rogue mages,” I say as we wander the market. My mistress, of course, adores the mage-market where all sort of components and curiosities await. I find myself more interested in the wide collection of maps, many of lands I have never seen. I buy two of lands that are to the west of us. I may not know how far we will chase this demon of ours, but at least we will not go without direction. The mage-hunters, however, are interesting. “Tell me of them.”

“They are associated with the Temple,” my mistress says, and makes me laugh by juggling three of the crystals she just bought with an ease I don’t’ expect. She lived on the streets as a child, and has many talents I would not have expected of someone who keeps company with nobility. Juggling and slight-of-hand, the more harmless cousin of true magic, come easily to her clever hands. With a wink and a flicker of her fingers, the crystals vanish, one by one, into her bag. “Although not priests themselves, or paladins. The Temple teaches them of magic, and they swear to search for the practitioners of dark magic. I need not tell you what happens when they find such a practitioner.”

“How do they decide what is dark and what is not?” I know more of magic than I did before we began, but I am no student of my mistress’s craft. She rarely speaks of the crueler magics, although we have fought several dark mages on the road thus far. I saw what they were able to bring against us, but I know little about why it was different from my mistress’s own spells. “Is there some sign?”

My mistress thinks about the question long enough for me to understand it is more complicated than I thought. That is the way of things sometimes, and I wait patiently for her to pull her thoughts together.

“In magic, there are many paths,” she tells me, and pauses to admire a stall with jade hairpins, each carved into a different flower. I look over them, and select a sprig of maple leaves, green as spring and so perfect they look almost alive. My mistress protests, but my gold is my own, and I spend it how I will. She blushes when I slide it into the twist of her black hair where she has it pinned off her neck. I raise a brow when she goes to protest, but she only stands on her toes to kiss me sweetly. We draw a few glances, women kissing women will always draw attention, but not enough to worry me. “Always spoiling me, my Annor.”

“Well I don’t have anyone else to spend money on,” I point out, smug with her blush and the kiss she gave me in return. “You were telling me about magic. Many paths.”

“You distracted me, but yes, I was,” my mistress laughs and twines her fingers with mine. “Yes, many paths. Some rely on personal power, or the natural power of the world. There is also power in death, and in blood. There are ways to gain power through deals with beings of other worlds. Some, as you’ve seen yourself, are demons.”

“Cutting deals with demons sounds pretty dark.” For obvious reasons, I’m not very fond of demons. “Murder also seems like a problem. Is that what happened with that mage with all the skeletons?”

“He was a necromancer. They’re not all bad, but yes, many of them are dark,” she says. We step out of the way of three of the paladins, who are trotting determinedly towards what sounds like a substantial fight. We head in the opposite direction. “It comes down to harm. Those who are dealing harm for the sake of harm are on the path to darkness. Those who delight in causing pain, or seek power above all else.”

I think on it. It seems simple, but I suspect she cut it down until it was simple enough to explain easily. Magic often seems to be a construct of many layers, and I haven’t the attention to learn them all. It’s enough that my mistress loves it.

“You’re not dark,” I decide, which makes her chuckle like she doesn’t particularly believe me. “Come on. Something smells good. I bet somewhere in this market, someone is selling something spicy enough even for your fiery tastes.”

+++

Never a Hero

Of Honor (Subscriber Only!)

Of Poison

Of Heroes  (Subscriber Only!)

Of Water

Of Fates (Subscriber Only!)

Of Madness

Of Darkness (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[miekasa]

sorry if you've already answered this, but what do you think the aot character's love languages would be? we know levi's is acts of service, but anybody else?

No worries! I don’t think I’ve answered for everyone before, so I’ll take a shot at it now bc I love thinking about people's love languages 😌

LEVI Gives: acts of service

This is one is talked about a lot, but Levi shows his love most often through doing things for you, even if you haven’t asked anything of him.

He’ll go out of his way to make your life easier and/or more comfortable in any way that he sees fit, and he doesn’t expect the same in return; it truly just makes him happy to know that he could have done something for you.

It includes bigger things like assembling furniture for you, building you something completely from scratch, or cleaning your car for; and also small things like making you a cup of coffee or tea, or even just holding your bag for you after a long day.

Needs: physical touch

Classic touch-starved man who doesn’t outwardly ask for physical touch, but doesn’t back away from it when you initiate it.

After some time, he’d begin to initiate himself, he just needs to get comfortable with the idea of it first; but after he is, it’s really cute to see. Catch him on a lazy morning, and he’s especially touchy; or find him after a long day of work, and he’ll cuddle himself right into your shoulder.

It makes him happy to know that you seek him out for physical comfort, and that he can begin to do the same. Also, he loves the feeling of you playing with his hair, it’s a surefire way to get him to fall asleep.

HANGE Gives: quality time, physical touch

Hange likes spending time with you, and loves roping you into their favorite hobbies, activities, and antics. Even something as simple as a 3 minute FaceTime call to ask them a quick question is enough to put a smile on their face.

They really just like to share their interests with you, and would love it if you did the same! Hange is willing to give everything a try at least twice for you.

Also loves physical touch, maybe not even necessarily in traditionally “romantic” ways either—having their hand around your shoulder to show you something on their phone, knocking into your body while they’re laughing, clapping your hands together out of boredom—all simple touches that make Hange happy.

Needs: gifts

Hange looooves presents, and you can’t prove me wrong. To them, it’s really touching to know that you would take the time to pick out or make something that you think they would like.

They cherish any and every gift you get them, even if it’s something as tiny and routine as bringing them a coffee during a busy a day at work, Hange never takes it for granted.

(And they also go on and brag about it to anyone who will listen, “Ah did you see my baby brought me coffee for lunch? Just how I like it too, they know me so well!”)

EREN Gives: quality time, words of affirmation

Quality time for Eren can also be mistaken as him spending all of his free time annoying the hell out of you, but it’s really just him being Loving.

When he’s not annoying you, he really does just like to be in the same space as you, even if you’re doing your own things. He likes having you around because you comfort him even if you’re not directly speaking to or interacting with him.

Words of affirmation come out of him in a very matter-of-fact tone. It’s almost as if he’s not consciously trying to affirm you or flatter you.

To him, he’s just saying what he believes is an objective truth: of course he thinks you’re smart and talented and pretty and fun to be around. If those things make you feel good, then it’s a bonus, but really, he just means it like it’s a fact of the universe.

Needs: gifts, physical touch

He’s not the best at giving gifts, but he does love to receive them, and honestly, he’s very humbled and flattered whenever you give him something that you clearly put a lot of time and/or effort into.

He almost feels undeserving of it, but he loves it all the same, and he really does cherish it. Even if it’s something as generic as a pair of shoes he was talking about, it still means a lot to him that you would remember and buy them for him.

Once he gets a taste of physical touch, he doesn’t know how to let go. All sense of personal space is out of the window, and this goes hand in hand with quality time once he discovers it.

Loves it when you touch him: play with his hair, play with or hold his hands, hug him out of the blue. Also loves to touch you, though he seems to not understand the size of his body when he’s draping himself over your shoulders, or has his leg over your thigh while you’re sitting on the bus.

ARMIN Gives: gifts

To him, it’s the simplest way to express himself without embarrassing himself by potentially tripping over his words. Also, gifts can be given remotely, so he doesn’t have to sit around worrying if you’ll love it or hate it while you open it.

Though, he certainly gains a lot of confidence over time, he still likes to leave you little presents to find when he’s not around. Something as small as buying your favorite candy and putting it in your coat pocket, or leaving flowers at your place.

He’s also very thoughtful, and when he does get you a bigger gift, or something to celebrate an occasion, he always makes sure it’s perfect.

He does it to make you happy, and when you’re happy, it makes him happy.

Needs: words of affirmation

He won’t ask for it, but it’s really reassuring to hear, and it makes him feel really good, and relieved to know that the person he loves thinks highly of him.

If you told him you’re proud of him, he might… he really might malfunction a bit, but your words would stick with him. The next time he was going through something hard or even just doubting himself, he’d remember what you said to him and it would give him a little push to get through it (and maybe be nicer to himself as a consequence).

Not necessarily an affirmation, but it also flatters him to hear that you think he’s attractive. Though, be careful when and how you say this, because he’s very… easy to excite.

MIKASA Gives: words of affirmation, acts of service

Mikasa lets you know how much you mean to her, and how much you mean to everyone in your life all the time. She doesn’t want you to ever feel like you’re less than you are.

She loves hearing about your progress or achievements in work/school and is quick to tell you that she’s happy for you and proud of you.

She’ll also do anything she can to help you out, so acts of service a big thing for her. She doesn’t want you to have to go out of your way to do something she could handle for you.

That isn’t to say that she thinks you’re incapable of fending for yourself; rather, that she would like to ease your pain whenever and wherever she can.

Needs: quality time

She doesn’t realize how much she likes/needs this until you guys start spending more time together; and it’s in your absence that she finds herself missing you more than she’d anticipated.

She doesn’t even mind sitting idly by while you’re busy or doing work, so long as she gets to be by your side. It also brings her a sense of comfort to be able to take care of you during this time; having snack breaks with you, occasional tangent conversations, and reminding you to rest when necessary.

She finds that one of the simplest means of quality time is sleeping next to each other; whether it be for a nap, or going to bed, it’s a kind of intimacy she never thought she’d crave, but comes to really, really enjoy.

JEAN Gives: quality time, gifts

Just. Just let Jean tag along to whatever you’re doing like a little golden retriever and he’ll be so damn happy. It doesn’t matter what—buying makeup, going on a walk, heading to the grocery store—he just likes spending time with you.

Though he—and anyone who expresses themselves in quality time—completely understands there are moments where you need to be by yourself. But if you don’t mind him being there, then he’ll take the opportunity to be with you.

He looooves to give presents, and even though he can get kind of embarrassed by it and try to play it off as nonchalant, he’s quite thoughtful and romantic with his gifts.

Needs: quality time, physical touch

He loves doing what you’re doing, but he would also love to have you around when he’s chilling or running errands or doing whatever, too. He doesn’t care, Jean just likes talking to you, and will take any opportunity to hear you speak to him and be around him.

He shows a normal amount of physical touch and/or PDA throughout your relationship, but really casual and gentle touches by you mean the world to him. When he feels you stroking his face when you think he’s asleep, wrapping your arms around one of his habitually when you’re sleepy after a night out, putting your hands on his face when you kiss him—all those things mean the world to him.

I don’t know if this would fall into words of affirmation, but he also likes it when you tell him that you find him attractive. Call him handsome once and he’ll be thinking about it for the rest of the month. Tell him he’s pretty and you might even get him to blush.

CONNIE Gives: quality time

Similar to Eren, his quality time is most commonly expressed through a little game he likes to call “how many times can I annoy my girlfriend in the span of twenty minutes.”

You could be chilling like normal, having a casual night in and Connie will just come bursting in your room like the loudest mf on the planet, with Monopoly in his left hand, and a six pack of beers in his right.

He lives for doing stupid (borderline illegal) shit with you, and to his credit, you’ve never gotten caught. He really just likes to hang with you and make you laugh and make memories the both of you won’t ever forget.

Needs: acts of service

Help this man. No, really, literally, help him, even if he says he doesn’t need help, he’ll appreciate it in the end.

From stuff like tutoring him for a class, to packing him lunches (beyond Lunchables, but inclusive of a strawberry-kiwi CapriSun, nonetheless); it’s a love language Connie didn’t even think he would like.

He fucking loves it though and never shuts up about anything you might do for him; always thanks you a million times and puts you in a loving chokehold and pinches your cheeks in appreciation.

SASHA Gives: words of affirmation

She’s really good at comforting you, or even just making you feel good about yourself. Sasha might not even realize how much her positive outlook on you might mean, but she sure does love to tell you how much you mean to her.

Adores singing your praises and rewarding you with compliments all the time. She’s so sweet and she doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. Best girl.

Needs: gifts

Sasha loves presents in all shapes in forms: birthday presents, anniversary presents, planned presents, surprise presents. Doesn’t matter, she’s happy to receive any and all of them.

She looks at the gifts you get her with sparkles in her eyes and the widest grin on her face. It means the world to her that you would get her something she loves and she appreciates it so much.

Takes extra special care of your gifts too. If you got her one of something she collects, the ones you give her have their own little special place in her collection and she loves to show them off whenever people ask about them.

PIECK Gives: acts of service, physical touch

Pieck will do just about anything for you, and if she can’t, she’ll commission someone else to get it done for the both of you. (Someone being Porco and Reiner if this act involves lifting or carrying anything heavy).

She adores the smile on your face after she tells you she’s taken care of something you were putting off or having trouble doing; it makes her whole day to see you happy and relieved to have one less task on your to-do list.

She definitely does things because it makes her happy to see you happy, but there’s a small part of her that’s not above admitting she likes to be rewarded for it, too. Even something as small as a hug will do 😌

That’s also where the physical touch comes in: Pieck is kind of handsy, an almost unexpectedly protective kind of way. It’s equal parts of her liking to show you off and have her hands on you, and making sure nobody else thinks about doing the same.

Needs: quality time

Once she discovers the joy of having someone else to laze around with, take naps with, and do… questionable antics with, Pieck feels like she’s discovered the true meaning of life.

Adores when you ask to come along with her to run errands, or when you show interest in any of her many hobbies. She comes to find that she loves sharing them with you.

Napping together is a must, and if you think she’ll let you out of her hold just because your leg cramped or you have to use the bathroom, then think again. There’s a minimum of three one-hour naps per week with her.

PORCO Gives: acts of service, gifts

Gifts might come as a surprise for him, but he’s got a good memory, so when he sees something you’ve been talking about, he’ll just pick it up/buy it for you.

Could be anything from a new pair of house slippers, to a pair of earrings you showed him once. If he sees it and remembers you wanted it, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll just get it. You can’t say he never did anything for you.

He approaches acts of service the same way, and usually does things he knows he can handle doing for you, like cleaning your car, cooking you dinner, or giving you a massage.

He can get kinda smug about it tho, going off about how you’re his little baby and that you need him to take care of you, as if he didn’t go out of his way to do these things, unprompted 🙄

Needs: physical touch

He’s not going out of his way to do extreme PDA, but he’s not hiding it either; if he feels like touching you, he will. But the first time you initiate it, or the first time you touch him in a gentle way, he’s such a goner.

He doesn’t even know how to process it at a first, and when he does he feels stupid and embarrassed for even liking it, but he certainly likes it that for damn sure.

He gets kinda cranky if you don’t cuddle up to him or hold his hand or poke his cheek (even though he claims it’s oh so annoying, you know he likesssss it).

[postalenha]

11. special

not really knowing what to wear, you decided to put on a beige sundress that goes below your knee, wishing that jay wouldn't bring you in a wall climbing type of place.

checking your reflection in the mirror, you fix a strand of hair that's sticking out and iron the dress with your hand, "perfect."

you smiled before hearing one to two honks of car. you decided to leave your apartment. outside, you see jay in his car, waving at you. you went straight to him saying, “good afternoon.”

he unbuckled his seatbelt and went out of his car, opening the car door to greet you, “good afternoon, lovely.” you smile before going inside.

his car smells like fresh flowers, which helps you calm down and not worry throughout the ride. once you've had enough courage to speak, you ask him “may i ask where we’re headed to?”

"i'm taking you to my favorite restaurant." he answered, "don't worry, i won't disappoint you."

you softly chuckle, "i'm looking forward to it."

the drive was smooth and quiet. you think if this was even a good idea because you remember telling yourself to never meet him again, let alone involve him in your life.

but you decided to give him a chance. it's not like you would lose anything. you would just hang out, that's all.

he stopped his car in front of a fancy building. he got out of his car and opened the door for you. he then offered his arm where you can cling your hand into. giving his car keys to the valet guy and you went straight inside.

immediately after a staff member had a glance of jay, she knew right away where to lead us. the two of you are now sitting at a table for two before the waitress hands you your menu.

you look over at jay, trying to get a recommendation from him while he's preoccupied, searching at his menu.

the waitress laughs a little before she pokes jay and points at you, jay widens his eyes. "oh no worries, i'll order for us." he smiled, "but you can order what you want too."

shaking your head no you tell him, "it's okay. you can order for us." he took that as a green light, so he ordered everything in the menu that he wanted you to have a taste of.

you weren't really listening to what he's saying, all you feel right now is admiration. you admired how well he can handle himself. he seems to know what he's doing, and looks like he's an expert with these types of situations.

waiting for the food to arrive, "i hope i lived upto your expectations." jay scratches the back of his nape, "i didn't tell you where we're going to keep the thrill."

you laughed at what he just said, "you made me anxious the whole ride just for you to experience some thrill?" you questioned him, he just smiled at you.

"the cold sweats were worth it. this place is magnificent." you commented, looking around and analyzing the place.

"it's elegant, very. yet cozy." you added, the structural design of the place was finely furnished. there are aerial plants hanging but the sight doesn't really make you suffocate, instead, they help make the surrounding more earthy.

"i know, that's why it's my favorite." he happily said, "and i'm glad you're liking it so far."

not long after, your food arrived. you couldn't tell if jay was very hungry or he just genuinely wanted you to try the food. seeing the number of plates on your table right now, it's enough to feed a whole six person family.

overwhelmed, you don't know where to start so you just stared at the food as they stare right back at you. jay sees your reaction and actually thinks it was cute.

while you're busy getting lost in your own thoughts, he started cutting the steak for you. it just went unnoticed until he switched your plate to his.

"why did you steal mine?" you asked him with full confusion painted on your face, he smirks. pointing at the plate in front of you, "they are the same thing. the only difference is; i already cut that for you."

after cutting his steak, he handed you a small cup with some kind of sauce inside. "try that with the flat bread like this." he showed you how to do it, and you just followed him, "then eat."

you both eat in usion before you hum in surprise, jay smiles for the nth time seeing you nod your head in approval. "that was actually good!" you said.

"it is. it makes a good appetizer." he told you, you both moved on and continued eating the main course. “i’m glad you agreed to see me.” he said.

you look at him, “i’m also glad you brought me to such a good place.” you said a while before taking a bite into your steak. tasting the savor of the meat as you chew it.

silence was the sound of the afternoon as you both ate in peace. he sometimes offers to help you with things like pouring your glass of wine, wiping the sauce from your lips but other than that, you both really didn’t interact that much.

jay had been thinking of what he should say, but he couldn't seem to find the right words or construct a good sentence to initiate a conversation. he only smiles at you whenever your eyes meet his.

but when dessert came, you grew tired of the silence that had been hurting your ears. so you decided to ask him, “how are your butterflies?” it’s funny to ask how his butterflies are.

because if he would ask you the same question, you would answer that yours are in your stomach as you speak. “they’re doing good.” he said, “i’m actually planning if i should free them or not.”

“why?” you ask him, jay looked at you. seeing your face, he knew that you actually cared because it is painted right all over your face. “i just think that i’m holding them back from the freedom that they deserve.”

“but what if their freedom is you?” you blurt out. “i mean- what if they feel like they have all the freedom in the world as long as you’re there by their side?” you panic while you blabber out the words without processing them in your head first.

“sorry, i wasn’t making sense.” you’re talking about butterflies for god’s sake. why would his butterflies even feel that way about him- well they can, but not certain.

jay thinks that it was fascinating that you said that. “no, you are making sense.” he reassured. he never once thought of how his butterflies would feel if he let go of them, he was busy thinking about what they feel in his perspective and never theirs.

instantly after you’re finished eating, you go out and wait for the valet driver to get the car. “we can sit there while we wait.” he pointed at the bench, you shake your head. “it’s fine, we can wait here.” you said, “unless you want to sit.”

he shook his head too and was also about to say something, “jongseong!” a woman shouts as she approaches you. you’re confused, there is no jongseong here. unless your name wasn’t y/n after all.

the woman stops in front of jay, “i didn’t expect to see you here!” she greets him with a hug. he’s jongseong?

you just stood there, quiet. even distanced yourself to give them some space. of course, just the right distance to hear what they’re talking about. “i most certainly didn't expect to see you either.” he said, the woman laughed and slaps his shoulder.

“we’re going to a pub, do you want to come?” she invited him. that is when jay- or jongseong- or whoever the hell he says he is; looks your way so you avoid his eyes, but on your peripheral vision you can see him walk to you.

feeling an arm on you shoulder, you look at his hand while you hear him say, “sorry. i’m with someone.” he said. you expected the girl to go with what he said but she just smiles. “come on! there would be a lot of people.”

she inserts herself in the middle of you two and clings her arm into yours, “she can find more friends there too!” you look away because you don’t know how to respond to her invitation, you barely even know her.

but that was hypocritical for you to say, because it wasn’t that much of a problem when you and jay spent the night at the pub. you were about to agree when something drawn on her arm caught your attention.

it’s the butterfly jay had drew on your arm when you two met at the bar, the same one. the only difference is that yours is already faded while hers is new and visible. you slowly remove her hand that was clinging on your arm.

“sorry, i’m really tired. i’ll be heading home, but jay can come if he wants to.” you told them. the girl lost her verbal ability and just looked at jay, “i’m going wherever she goes.. so, i’ll see you around.” he said.

the valet driver came right on time, jay was about to open the door for you but you opened it for yourself and just went inside his car not saying anything. jay doesn't really know what the big deal is, he certainly doesn’t get why you’re suddenly mad when you were so smiley earlier.

the car ride was silent too, it was awkward but you think that it’s better this way. but jay didn’t. he wanted the talkative y/n he met at the pub, you’re the same girl but why are you acting so cold all of a sudden?

once his car was parked in front of your apartment, you got out of his car and said “thank you.” and rushed inside. not letting him say any word. you throw yourself onto your bed, screaming.

you thought you were special. turns out jay’s just good at making individuals feel like they are, when in reality you are just like everyone else. a person who seeks the love they think they deserve and need.

PREV, MASTERLIST, NEXT,

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[live-the-fangirl-life]

Rainy Day Rescuer

Feyre Archeron x Rhysand - OneShot

Feyre gets locked out in the rain and fears she'll have to tough out the storm. That is, until a kind stranger opens his window.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2130 words

*******

Feyre’s favorite thing about her apartment building wasn't the location or the free parking—although she did love that—it was the rooftop.

She’d lived in the building almost a month before realizing she could access the roof. The padlock on the door was apparently for appearances only, and it easily came off when she pulled on it. She figured out how to rest it back on the door so that when she was out on the roof the door still looked locked to anyone who didn't know better.

So far, she hadn't run into any of her neighbors trying to share the spot, but she knew someone else used it. Normally, she came up here to paint or to think and look at the stars. The view from the roof was lovely; she could see the city center and all the lit-up buildings, and the Sidra river that flowed through it.

The first time she set up her easel, one of her paintbrushes rolled away, and when she tracked it down behind an old broken crate she found a book had been carefully tucked away behind it.

Feyre couldn't help it when she picked up the book to get a better look at it. She glanced around quickly before chiding herself, knowing that no one else was out there with her. She recognized it as some sort of mythology retelling. Feyre flipped through it, trying to find some name or any indication of who it belonged to. All she found was an old receipt from a clothing store being used as a bookmark.

Spotting her runaway paintbrush, she grabbed it and put the book back where she found it.

That wasn't the last time she saw that book, and it certainly wasn't the last time she lost one of her paintbrushes.

In the next few weeks, every time Feyre went out to the roof she looked for the book.

It was always in that same place, hidden away so it wouldn't be noticed. But every time she opened the book the bookmark was moved a little further along.

She also started noticing annotations written in the margins. Feyre tried to imagine what this person must be like. It was odd, but kind of fascinating to follow along with this person’s progress.

She tried to focus on the fascinating part, and not the part that made her feel a bit like a creep for peeping into this person’s thoughts.

Except, when she made her routine book check that night, it was gone.

Feyre tried not to feel too disappointed. Why was she so invested in another person’s book? But it had become a constant that she looked forward to, and now it was gone. She could only hope they would start another one.

She laid out a thin blanket and sat down to look at the stars.

She must have dozed off at some point because she was woken up by raindrops hitting her face. It wasn't heavy yet, but she could tell it was going to start soon.

Ignoring the drizzle, she glanced at her phone. Feyre groaned and sat up, rubbing her face.

“Ugh, okay Fey, let’s call it a night.” She mumbled to herself, sleepy and moving slowly. She packed the blanket in her large tote bag and went to go back inside. Pulling on the door, she stumbled back a step. She was too tired, her grip was already slipping.

Feyre adjusted the bag on her shoulder and pulled the door again.

It didn't move.

She gripped the handle with both hands and pulled, hard.

Nothing happened.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Feyre was wide awake now. This couldn't be happening. Shit.

She threw her bag down and used all her strength to open the door she ultimately knew wouldn't budge.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, she stepped back from the door.

“Shit.”

The rain was beginning to pick up.

“Really?!”

Lunging for her bag, Feyre dug around until she felt her phone. Gripping it, she unlocked it and was about to find someone to call for help...but she had no service.

How could she not have any service? Oh, gods, she was going to be stuck out on the roof, in the rain, until someone decided to come out there. It could be who-knows-how-long until that happened.

Spinning around, Feyre caught sight of her salvation.

“The fire escape!” Beaming, she grabbed her bag and ran over to it. “You beautiful, fantastic fire escape, help me out.”

Feyre managed to climb down the four stories of stairs and ladders without slipping on the slick metal. Gods, wouldn't that be a sight? She’d slip and come tumbling down the rest of the way, providing free entertainment to whoever walked past the building’s back alley.

When she finally made it to the lowest landing she tried to lower the final ladder that would bring her to the ground.

Only, it wouldn't move.

“Come on,” she muttered, still trying to force it down, “Don’t do this to me. I’m so close!” Feyre looked down to see the drop. Cringing, she admitted it was farther than she trusted herself to jump without breaking something—most likely her.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the sky. Feyre pressed herself against the building as the rain finally poured down.

“Seriously?!” She shouted up into the apparent waterfall above her head.

A knock from behind her startled her enough that she jumped around and let out a loud shriek.

“Um, are you okay?”

A voice came from a window set into the wall that she hadn't noticed before with a man’s face pressed up against it. Through the rain streaming down the glass, she couldn't tell if he looked more concerned or wary at her appearance.

It took her a second to respond.

“No.” She tried to shake the wet hair out of her face. “I’m not.”

“Are you trying to go up or down?”

Ah. He was probably worried she was just some random person who decided to hop up onto his balcony landing.

“Down.” She said, trying not to think of how bizarre it must be for him to look out and see a woman stuck outside his window, sopping wet.

This really wasn't how she wanted to make first impressions with her neighbors.

“I got locked out on the roof and tried to get down the fire escape, but,” she gestured to herself and the now downpouring rain that was making this conversation difficult, “it didn't really work.”

She hoped he would offer before she had to ask the insane request.

Thankfully he did.

His eyebrows shot up and he seemed to finally notice how bad the rain was. Hastily opening the window, he gestured for her to come in.

“Come in, it looks awful out there.”

Before she could think better of accepting the stranger's invitation to literally climb into their apartment, she picked up her soaking bag from the grate at her feet and crawled over the windowsill, quickly closing the window behind her to block the storm.

Maneuvering to a standing position, Feyre took a moment to take a breath and thank whoever was listening for her unexpected savior.

She turned to face him. He was tall, she would have to crane her neck up if stood much closer. And he had vibrant violet eyes that the artist in her wanted to study.

“Hang on a second.” He left her standing in his living room. Feyre looked around at the sofa and tv that took up most of the space, the bookshelf propped against one wall, and pictures of friends on the wall.

The man came back in with a towel in hand.

“Here, try this.” He handed it to her politely.

“Thanks.” She quickly wrapped it around herself, trying to dry off and stop shivering.

“No problem.” He looked like he was going to ask her something when something on the bookshelf caught her eye.

“It was your book?” She gasped, pulling the familiar volume from the shelf. Feyre whirled around to face the dark-haired man who was looking at her warily. “You’re the one who’s been using the roof!”

He stepped closer to her and gently took the book from her hands, casually flipping through it. Flicking his eyes up at her, he asked, “How did you know about my book?”

Feyre could feel her cheeks heating and she could've sworn a smirk made its way across his face.

“I, uh, found it one day.”

“You found it?” he asked skeptically. “I hid it behind some old box, how did you find it?”

At least he just looked curious, and mildly amused, and not disturbed at her snooping. Yeah, maybe it was tucked away, but anyone who tried for more than a minute could’ve found it, so she didn't feel as bad.

Drawing as much pride as she could muster when she was dripping water onto this man’s carpet, she huffed, “It was a crate, not a box.” He grinned and she went on, “and for your information, I dropped a paintbrush and it rolled over there. I found the book when I was chasing my brush. I don't actively seek out other people’s things to snoop.”

His grin widened as she explained and by the end, he was chuckling.

“And here I thought you just really wanted to get to know my reading tastes.”

She scoffed, but hid a grin, “Yeah, sure. I don't even know you.”

As she said it, she realized it was true.

Besides the fact that he lived in her building and was kind enough to let her in from the rain, she had no idea who this man was.

It seemed he remembered the same thing as he gave her a charming smile and held out his hand.

“You can call me Rhys.”

“Rhys?” She raised a brow. She’d never met anyone named Rhys before.

“My full name is Rhysand, but,” he paused to wink at her, “the people I like call me Rhys.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting but met his hand with her own.

“Feyre. Just Feyre.” She held his gaze for a few more minutes before they both dropped their hands.

“Well, Just Feyre, I think I have something for you.”

Before she could respond, he vanished into the other room. He had something for her? What? Was this some other lame attempt at flirting?

She’d let him flirt if he wanted to, maybe she was a little interested to see what he’d try.

But he came back out to stand in front of her with one hand behind his back.

“Yes?” She tried to peek around him, but he angled his body away so she couldn't see what he was holding.

Leaning in close to her, Rhys said, “I believe that is yours.” With a flourish, he brought his hand in front of him.

“My paintbrush!” Feyre couldn't believe it. She looked back and forth between the brush and the man holding it, “I’ve been looking for this one. I lost it weeks ago! How do you have it?”

Rhys smiled broadly at her as she took it from his outstretched hand.

“I found it near the back corner one night, it must have just rolled away from you. It looked like it could blend right into the wall.”

Ceasing her inspection of the brush, shocked that she had found it—that Rhys had had it—she looked at him and beamed.

He blinked, almost dazedly, as he watched her smile.

“Thank you!”

Without thinking, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. Rhys tensed, and at that moment Feyre remembered that she was still soaking wet from the rain. Wincing, she hastily pulled away before he had a chance to return her hug.

“Sorry. I got excited.” She glanced down to see the small puddle on the floor beneath her and cringed. “I should probably go.”

“Hm? Oh.” Rhys cleared his throat and nodded, “Right. You probably want to change into something dry.”

“Yeah.” They both stood there awkwardly staring at each other, not sure what to say next.

“Okay,” Feyre picked up her bag and took a step towards the door. “I’m just gonna...” She trailed off as she and Rhys pivoted around each other so that she was closer to the door.

He walked with her the last few steps, pausing when she opened the door and turned back to him.

“Thank you, Rhys. For the paintbrush, and for not making me stand outside like a drowned cat all night.”

His laugh made Feyre crack a smile.

“Anytime Feyre, darling.”

She smiled.

“Goodnight Rhys.”

He mirrored her smile.

“Goodnight Feyre.”

Maybe getting locked out wasn’t so bad, after all.

***

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

Kar’taylir Darasuum

AN ESSAY ON LOVE IN MANDALORIAN CULTURE 

A/N: This post has been a long time coming and I am SORRY for that. The lovely @darkmist111​ wanted to know more about courtship and romance as it pertains to the world of Resol’nare, and well... I sort of got carried away with research and head cannons and... well, you’ll see. 

Quick links: Resol’nare // Hokan’yc // Mando’a Dictionary

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of violence, death - they are a culture of warriors, my friends, it’s unavoidable. 

thank you so much for this ask and for your patience while i worked on it! oh boy buckle up here we go: 

Courtship 

Courtship in Mandalorian culture is often a very short time period. Relationships move quickly from one stage to the next, because Mandalorians know better than many cultures that tomorrow is never promised. That being said, they don’t just pair off indiscriminately, and while physical appearance holds little to no weight in terms of attraction, there are other things that do certainly tip the scales. 

For someone like Din, brought up in an extremely strict covert with an adherence to The Way of the Mandalore that leaves very little room for interpretation, the most attractive trait a person can have is skill as a fighter. Knowing that the person they are pledging their soul to is capable of not only watching their six in battle, but protecting themselves and any children that might be in the family (foundlings or otherwise) is extremely important to Mandalorians. As such, many courtships begin while Mandos are in the final stages of training, when they begin to leave the covert to go on missions. (See Hokan’yc for Din’s story of young love at this stage in his life, and meet Aashi Zurn, the Mando who bested him in the sparring chamber and won his heart in the process.) 

Trust and loyalty are extremely important to Mandalorians when seeking a partner. Marriage in Mandalorian culture is meant to be forever- eternal- as Mandalorians believe that their souls live on after death, and remain connected to their loved ones until the end of time. Depending on the level of anonymity the individuals in question choose as a lifestyle (i.e. helmets on at all times or removed in front of others, names known or unknown), Mandalorians might show their trust in a partner by telling them something personal about themselves, something that they would normally keep a secret either out of pride or protection. This is usually returned in kind, a sort of exchanging of secrets that begins the binding of their two souls together that will continue throughout their relationship so that if/when they choose to marry, they are speaking the truth when they say that they know one another- in a way that no one else ever will. 

Some small ways that Mandalorians will show affection or appreciation for one another during their courtship and long into their relationship (because Mandalorians don’t just fall in love and settle, they keep falling deeper into it, letting it grow stronger) include: helping them clean their armor or weapons, tending to any aches and pains from old injuries- most Mandalorians make their own herbal salves that they use to soothe inflammation or to help heal scarring, and sharing from your own personal blend to provide comfort for your partner goes a long way. (This will come up in more than one way in Resol’nare, so look out for that in the future.) sharing or preparing a favorite meal, and in the event that they really want to emphasize their feelings, they will give a piece of their own armor to their partner, showing that they are ready to view them as a part of themselves, ready to protect them with their own life if necessary. 

The tradition of wearing the armor of their beloved comes from ancient times, when a Mandalorian fell in love with another who was a member of an enemy clan and had been captured by her people. To protect her lover from those who would kill them on sight just based on the sigil or coloring of their armor, she traded some of her plates with some of theirs so that they could escape unnoticed. Once two Mandalorians are wed, not even blood feuds between clans can come between them, so the exchanging of armor became seen as a sort of intention to marry for many Mandalorians.

Because Mandalorian culture takes root in various other cultures, some traditions from those other cultures cross over into theirs. For example, while no Mandalorian would ever make the mistake of asking a woman’s father for her hand in marriage and Mandalorian women are seen as complete equals and therefore able to make their own choices when it comes to their partners, some clans will still partake in common practices like introducing their intended to their family or announcing their engagement to their families and loved ones before making it known to others in the community. While jewlery is extremely uncommon in Mandalorian culture (unless it is functional, such as a beskar collar style necklace) engagement tokens like pendants engraved with the two names or rings either without stones, or rings with low profile stones inlaid into the bands- in some cases a gemstone will be embedded within the metal on the underside of the band, where it makes contact with the finger- are considered standard in most other cultures, so they are sometimes still exchanged but are in no way necessary to solidify an engagement or an intent to marry. 

Marriage  

The actual vows exchanged between Mandalorians are short and to the point, and there is no required ceremony, no officiant or witness needed, no record keeping of any sort, so the actual wedding is usually done just between the two individuals in private. Traditionally they are as follows: 

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde" which translates to "We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

Once the vows are said, the marriage is official and the Riduurok bond is forged and must be acknowledged and respected by all Mandalorians.

Newlyweds will lift the helmet of their spouse once the vows have been sworn so that they may be sealed more intimately. In the case of Mandalorians who keep their faces hidden, this may be the first time that one or both of them sees the other without their helmet. In other cases, the removal of their riduur’s armor is merely symbolic. 

Although there are no formalities that need to happen in order to legitimize a marriage, there are of course some traditions and rituals that are completed which Mandalorians believe safeguard and strengthen their bond with their spouse. These include getting specific tattoos, and adding each other’s sigil to armor or weapons.  

Riduurok Tattoos 

Tattooing is an important part of Mandalorian culture. Regardless of their culture of origin, where they come from, or how they choose to interpret the Creed, it is rare to come across an adult Mandalorian with no tattoos. Even the New Mandalorians under Satine’s pacifist regime continued to carry on tattooing, though not as extensively or ritualistically as the more orthodox communities like the one that Din, Paz and The Armorer come from. For them it was done more for decorative purposes. Though their designs still pay homage to shapes and motifs that are meaningful to all Mandalorians, they also include more aesthetic design elements such as florals, vines or stars. 

Typically a Warrior will receive their first tattoo when they complete their training at thirteen; a thick black chevron shaped cuff on their left bicep. This symbolizes that they are part of the larger Tribe of Mandalorians outside of their own clans, and serves to remind them of the duty that they have to protect all Mandalorians. They have to look at it each time they don or remove their armor, and in the abhorrent event that they are stripped of their armor in defeat, the ink serves as symbolic beskar so that they remain protected in the afterlife. Bands and chevrons are added to symbolize achievements in battle or heroic action to protect their covert.(Din has five bands on his left arm, the latest one just below his elbow- his first when he completed mandatory training at 13, his second when he completed additional elite training, his third when helped relocate the covert to Nevarro- see Hokan’yc- his original covert was located on Dantooine- his fourth when he was injured protecting a group of foundlings, and the fifth after claiming the Darksaber. He would absolutely have more bands had he not spent so much time away from the covert. He absolutely will have more bands by the time Resol’nare ends.)  For Mandalorians who live a long life or are extremely skilled fighters, it is not uncommon for these bands to cover the entire arm from mid bicep to wrist. If more space is needed, another chain of bands is added to the left thigh ranging downwards. It is said that no Mandalorian has ever completely covered their entire left side, simply because in a war-based culture, life expectancy is cut short. 

Mythosaur skulls, clan signets, troop affiliations and words or short phrases in Mando’a are also typical designs that Mandalorians may choose to have done. The Mythosaur is usually tattooed on the back while the right bicep is where Mandalorians will honor their families in their chosen way. Usually it is by adding their clan signet, names of loved ones or parents, or even symbols or patterns that are significant to their culture of origin. ( Navina has a tattoo on her right arm to pay tribute to her mother’s- who was a foundling- culture. It will be revealed in an upcoming chapter so that is all that I can say about that! Din also has the Mythosaur skull inside of a triangle on the right side of his chest, and his Mudhorn signet on his right shoulder.)

Riduurok tattoos are placed on the left side or center of the chest, over the individual’s heart, and are done as soon as possible after marriage vows are sworn. Taking the shape of the Kar'ta Beskar, Mandalorians personalize them by adding their spouse’s name in Mando’a in the empty space in the middle of the design. Like the arm bands, these are also meant to symbolize armor of sorts. They represent the way that married couples remain connected no matter if they are together or apart; that they are one, an integral part of the other, even in death. They also signify the strength gained through marriage, as well as the protection a Mandalorian vows to provide for their partner. Love is seen as something that fortifies, never weakens, and that is represented in this tattoo as well. 

(Terrible graphic made with love by me)

This particular tattoo comes directly from a Mandalorian myth predating modern record keeping. Legend has it that long ago, a Mandalorian warrior returned home from battle, eager to see his riduur after so much time away. When he arrived, however, he found only her lifeless form, the soul of the one he had tied himself to no longer inhabiting the flesh and bone of her body. She had been slain, taken from him and from their life together, and it opened in him a new capacity for rage, something far more fierce than fire. It is said that in the moment that the Mandalorian warrior saw what had happened in his absence, vengeance itself was unleashed into existence. 

The warrior, fueled by this new urge, this extreme desire to avenge the death of his wife, tracked down the marauders who were responsible for her death and killed them one by one. The last of them, as he watched the Mandalorian take his accomplices’ lives, did not beg or grovel. He could see that it would do no good. Instead, he confessed that he did not think that Mandalorians had the capacity to love so deeply as to inspire such retaliation, that he did not think Mandalorians were open to things that could make them weak, things like love. 

“Only fools like you would think that love makes one weak.” he spat at the man. “True love is power, it is strength- it is the joining of two into one and nothing, not even death can diminish it. But you? Death will erase your soul and before long you will be forgotten.” 

The Mandalorian warrior killed the final marauder then, and as he did the pure rage that he felt upon discovering the death of his riduur quieted. Instead, he felt her presence, as though she were there to wrap her arms around him. He felt her strength enter his heart, and though he would mourn her loss immensely, he knew that she would never truly be gone, that he would always carry her and that they would reunite when his journey came to an end. As a tribute to his riduur and what she would always mean to him, the warrior etched her name over his heart in ink, encasing it in the oblong diamond shape of the Kar'ta Beskar, symbolizing that she is the source of his strength, a kind of armor that protected him from facing eternity alone. From then on, Mandalorians added the Riduurok Tattoo into their marriage rituals.   

Clan Sigils 

In the case that both Mandalorians have already been assigned sigils, or if they have sigils that they inherited from their own clans, they will either combine both symbols into one new one, or they will add their spouse’s sigil right beside their own on their armor and/or weapons. (In Resol’nare, Navina’s beskar kal that she inherited from her father- thanks of course to Firo- displayed the sigils of both of her parents, as well as her own name)  

If only one of the two can claim a sigil as their own distinct mark, they will extend it to their spouse as they extend every part of themselves through marriage, and if neither one has been assigned a sigil, they will both take the sigil of the first one who is assigned one.  

It is completely up to the individuals regarding whether or not they will choose to take their spouse’s name- the important thing is that they are under the same sign, as their sigils are yet another bond that they carry into the afterlife that helps them reunite once both have rejoined the Manda. 

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THANK YOU AGAIN TO @darkmist111​ for this request. I had a lot of fun thinking about and writing this, and it was a great way for me to finally dive back into the world of Resol’nare. :) 

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @valkblue @malionnes @gollyderek @fific7 @becs-bunker @commanderlola @greatcircle79 @cannedsoupsucks​ @dihra-vesa​ @marauderskeeper​ @disgruntledspacedad​

[teawaffles]

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 3, Part 2

The next morning.

After yesterday’s incident, Moran was keen to know what Louis would do next — and so he headed to the hall with Fred, who presently had some time to spare. Perhaps it was because he’d been working late into the night, for Fred kept yawning as he rubbed his bleary eyes.

But the moment Moran pushed open the hall door, the startling sight before them banished all of Fred’s sleepiness in a flash.

“This is……”

“What the heck is this?” Moran exclaimed.

Dumbfounded, the two men stood where they were.

One corner of the hall—— had been turned into a dense jungle.

Numerous South American trees, planted in giant pots, were now surrounding the angelfish tank. At the same time, the two men were struck by the feeling that somehow, the room’s humidity had risen since yesterday.

Hearing Moran’s shout, Louis poked his head out from behind an ivy-wrapped tree.

“You’re being much too loud in the morning, Mr Moran. It’ll stress out the fish, so please refrain from shouting; but what on earth’s the matter?”

“That’s my line: what have you done here?!”

A flash of light gleamed off Louis’s spectacles.

“I was seeking a more conducive environment for my bro—…… no, the fish, so I have recreated a South American rainforest here. They were ordered a few days earlier, and arrived last night; I’ve just finished arranging them.”

Apparently, the luxurious water plants had just been the beginning for Louis. Even so, Moran had not expected this much progress in one night.

The situation raised so many questions that he had no idea where to begin. But for now, Moran refused to back down, and raised one of the problems at hand.

“First off, you were obviously going to say ‘my brothers’, but still: don’t talk about such grand feats as ‘recreating South America’ so lightly! No, I had a feeling about this. A normal person would reflect on what happened yesterday, and restrain themselves after that — but for you, you’re the type who ends up going amok instead. And yet, I didn’t think you’d do something as drastic as this!”

Moran had launched into a heated tirade, but Louis kept his cool as he replied.

“Thank you for taking the time to point out each and every one of those things. However, I believe I’m treating all of the fish equally; and in my view, it’s unfair to say that I’m favouring some of them just because some plants have been placed at specific areas.”

“What kinda nerve is that, to not even admit it after going this far…….. I mean, you are actually a little aware of it, aren’t you?”

“Also, it’s actually quite amazing that you’ve managed to remain calm all this while, Mr Louis……”

Even after weathering that torrent of questions, Louis was unmoved — and if anything, that had inspired a sense of awe within Fred.

“Well, it was us who said you were free to do as you liked. In any case, your love towards your brothers is certainly terrifying.”

To Moran, it seemed meaningless to continue arguing with the youngest son of the Moriartys, who stubbornly refused to acknowledge his biased rearing of the fish. He gave up trying to persuade Louis, and went on to watch the fish as he normally did.

“…………”

He tried to focus on the vibrant fish before him. And yet, Moran couldn’t help but notice the trees standing at the edge of his sight.

Tormented by that conflict, he finally succumbed to temptation. With sure steps, Moran made his way toward the vegetation, and Fred followed cautiously behind him.

“……Well, if they’re already here, we may as well enjoy them to the fullest.”

Mumbling to no one in particular, Moran walked up to the row of trees. Using one arm to push away the leaves in his path, he moved through the greenery; then, his gaze landed on an aquarium placed on a nearby table. Inside, were some animals with incredibly striking colourations.

“What’re these?”

“They’re indeed very colourful,” Fred remarked.

Within the tank were several tiny frogs. They were a deep blue, and mottled with red.

The two men were full of questions about the presence of these unfamiliar creatures. Nevertheless, out of sheer curiosity, they moved their faces near the tank and peered in.

Louis, who was feeding the other fish, called out to them in a loud voice.

“Please don’t open the tank lid: they may look beautiful, but they secrete a lethal poison so deadly that some indigenous tribes of South America use it to coat the tips of their blowdarts.”

In an instant, Moran and Fred leapt away from the tank. Due to their natural athleticism, the distance they’d retreated was further than that of the average person.

As it were, they had narrowly escaped the jaws of death. But even as the sudden appearance of these poisonous frogs gave them chills, Moran stilled his pounding heart, and shot Louis a look of anger.

“Why are such dangerous things here?! Even recreating a South American environment has its limits, doesn't it?!”

“My apologies. One of my motivations was indeed to recreate the fishes’ native habitat. But more than that, I wanted to prepare for a scenario where Stapleton expresses an interest in other creatures besides fish. Hence, I began rearing these frogs just in case.”

As he said that, Louis made his way beside the tank. Opening the lid just a crack, he tossed in some tiny insects: food for the frogs.

“…………”

Seeing his practiced hand, at this point, the other two men had nothing else to say. In this extraordinary space created within the mansion they lived in on a daily basis, their ability to process information had long since hit its limit.

After confirming that the frogs had eaten their fill, Louis proceeded on an efficient path around the room to check on the rest of the tanks.

Moran gazed into the distance.

“It sure is amazing, what people can do in such a short time……”

But excessive zeal, once taken in the wrong direction, can lead to outcomes no one would’ve expected.

Even as various points had deeply impressed upon them just how amazing Louis was, at the same time, Moran and Fred also grew conscious of a certain truth in life. Once again, they stepped through the row of trees.

The two men parted the curtain of leaves, some part of them nervously wondering if those dangerous frogs had escaped, and walked up to the aquarium they had in mind.

“Oh, there they are.”

Seeing that the tank itself hadn’t changed, Moran finally breathed a sense of relief, and went on to admire the three “Moriarty brothers” swimming within.

The one at the head of the group was ‘William’. Right behind him was ‘Albert’, then ‘Louis’. Within the jungle Louis had created, the three angelfish shone in a way that lived up to their angelic names.

However, in contrast to the joyful Moran, Fred’s expression was serious. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Don’t you think…… its movements are a bit awkward?”

“Ah?”

Moran stared at the focus of Fred’s attention. Immediately, he perceived a subtle change in that fish.

Although it seemed perfectly fine at first glance, if one were to observe all three of them carefully, it was clear that the one at the head of the group was swimming a little differently from the other two.

“Is there something wrong?”

Louis came over, sensing something was off. But even before Fred explained the situation, he noticed the abnormality with ‘William’.

He put his face close to the tank, observing the fish for a few moments; but gradually, his expression turned grave.

“Oi, Louis: what on earth’s going on? Could it be that he’s sick?” Moran asked.

Louis placed a hand under his chin, thought for a split second, then quickly made a decision.

“——First, let’s move it to a separate tank. There’s a smaller one near the hall entrance: Mr Moran, please bring it here. Fred: please read the measurements from the devices installed on this tank and report them.”

Hearing those instructions, the two men assumed their roles at once.

Meanwhile, Louis took a notepad from his breast pocket, and checked the emergency response measures he’d studied on his own. Though he had already memorised all of them, he wanted to avoid any potential for error.

Moran returned with a small tank.

“Oi, is this one alright?”

“Yes, thank you.”

First, Louis transferred some water from the angelfishes’ tank into the one Moran brought over, such that it was deep enough for one fish. Then, he set up some equipment to confirm the water temperature and quality once more, then added a bit of salt to the water.

Watching him, Moran cocked his head.

“Why’re you adding salt?”

“Saltwater is an effective treatment for diseases in fish. Though it certainly isn’t all-powerful.” [1]

Saying that, Louis used a net to gently scoop up ‘William’ and move it to the tank they’d prepared. Although there were drawbacks to isolating sick fish, his priority was to stop the disease from spreading, as well as limit any damage that could be caused by the other fish.

As he worked, Louis listened to the measurements Fred read out, but his puzzlement only deepened.

“The water quality and temperature are both normal. As far as I can see, there isn’t any obvious debris or dirt in the tank, and the equipment doesn’t seem to be malfunctioning. In that case, perhaps some foreign substance had entered its food, or maybe it got stressed from its surroundings……”

“Maybe it got bullied by the other fish?” Moran asked.

Louis immediately dismissed that idea. “From what I’ve observed, there were no such quarrels between them. In that case, another possibility I can think of is the change in its environment.”

He cast a sideways glance at the trees surrounding them. And Fred picked up the implication behind that casual gesture.

“By ‘stress’, do you mean these trees? But it’s not like they came into contact with the water, so they probably didn’t impact the water quality, at least not directly. Also, weren’t they only added a while ago? To affect the fish so rapidly……”

“We can’t dismiss that possibility. Perhaps the changes to the view outside the tank had caused some visual stress…… Well, regardless of the reason, the blame for its ill health rests with me: the one in charge of its care.”

“…………”

After isolating the fish, the three of them remained standing where they were.

They gazed at the sick angelfish, swimming alone in its tank, with a sense of misery and frustration growing within them.

Footnotes:

[1] There is some truth to this: Practical Fishkeeping UK

[yedamismymom]

Too Hot to Handle

✦ junkyu x reader

✦ smut; car sex, fem receiving, male receiving, unprotected sex

✦ 1.9k+ words

✦ lowercase intended, requested by anon

it was three in the morning. a thin sheen of sweat covered your overly exhausted body. despite having the windows cracked open, the mustiness and unbearable mix of heat and cold in the interior of the broken down car failed to disappear. goosebumps rose on your skin, everywhere that the material of your skimpy dress failed to hide. your head was pounding and your eyes were burning. to make matters worse, it was raining - that too - heavily. the sounds of the raindrops pelting against the car’s hood resonated in your ears.

the only good thing about this whole ordeal was that junkyu was by your side. his state was no less different than yours. perhaps he was a tad bit more collected. he didn’t look as reckless as you did and he certainly wasn’t as drunk as you were. and that wasn’t because he hadn’t drank as much as you, but mostly because he held his liquor much better than you ever could. nonetheless, junkyu was miserable and so were you. 

both of you had spent almost an hour and a half trapped in his car, waiting for the rain to cease so that you could catch some signal. ultimately however, your phone died and his, which was barely surviving had managed to send a message to jihoon regarding your whereabouts and a sos to come and pick you both up when the rain calmed down a bit. 

time seemed to be passing at snail’s pace. junkyu was bored out of his mind. he looked over at you, eyes no doubt raking over your exposed thighs. “you’re cold.”, he mumbled, placing his large palm on the skin. he caressed it gently, attempting to soothe your goosebumps. had you possessed the ability to think straight, junkyu’s touch would’ve flustered you deeply. but you were too lost to let your conscience act. your legs spread instinctively, seeking the warmth that junkyu’s touch gave. this caused his palm to drop lower and he now held your inner thigh.

although this was more physical contact than you’d ever had in your one year of knowing each other, neither of you were phased. that was the alcohol’s doing and you didn’t know whether to blame it or be thankful for it. 

“you’re hot. hug me.”

junkyu complied to your request without a word, awkwardly wrapping his arms around your shoulders. the new position was incredibly uncomfortable for him. you could tell by the jagged breaths that left him as he attempted to bear the searing stretch on his side. “move over.”

you pushed his hands off of you and got up from your seat, clumsily stepping over the gearshift to stand over him. he stared up at you, hands coming to your waist to stead you while you hunched over his tall frame. you sat down between the space of his thighs, leaning your back against the window and extended your legs over his lap. junkyu pulled you closer to his body, effectively helping you heat up. 

“you’re warm.”, you mumbles, snuggling your face into his neck. junkyu shuddered when your breath hit his skin, but he didn’t move away. “you smell nice.”, you added, giggling at your observation. junkyu smiled. “i thought i’d smell sweaty. good to know that the cheap stuff lasts.”

you leaned further into his neck, lips placing a small kiss on his skin. “you always smell good though. even when you’re not wearing cheap cologne.” junkyu’s fingers trailed over your bare thighs. “yeah and you’re always hot. even when you’re freezing cold.”

“you think i’m hot?”, you asked, pulling away from him to look at his face. he locked his eyes with yours and nodded. “i think you’re hot too.”

neither of you noticed how close you’d gotten in such a short time. your faces were only centimeters apart from each other’s. junkyu’s eyes wavered down to your lips for a moment. he licked his own before closing the gap between you both. 

he tasted like alcohol - majorly - with hints of mint and a supposed fruit flavoured chaser that you couldn’t quite put your hands on. it was addicting. his hold on your jaw was gentle, a complete contrast to how feverishly his lips were moving against yours. the kiss was masked with desperation, hunger and just pure lust. it only went to show how much tension existed between you both whilst you were sober. 

you pulled away first, quickly situating yourself in a more compromisable position. with both knees on either side of his lap, you crashed your lips onto his once again, resuming the hot kiss. junkyu’s hands found the flush of your ass and they involuntarily squeezed the flesh, thereby making you moan. he moved forward, pushing your back against the dashboard as his lips left yours to find purchase on your neck. 

he pressed wet kisses to your exposed skin, pushing the straps of your dress off your shoulder so that he could catch sight of your breasts. his eyes were ravening over the sight in front of him. junkyu’s lips closed in around your nipple, the other one being pinched between his thumb and forefinger. you hummed at the buzz that the stimulation sent through you, a pool of wetness gathering in your panties. junkyu sucked a dark mark on the apex of your breast, running his tongue over the skin while his hands haphazardly pushed the remainder of your dress up to your abdomen. 

“can i?”, he asked, looking up at you briefly. you nodded, spreading your legs eagerly. he smiled to himself and pulled your panties to the side. he dipped his finger between your wet folds, lips parting as he felt how wet you were. coated in your arousal, he pushed the digit into your cunt, curling it upwards when he was knuckle deep. you whimpered, shutting your eyes momentarily. slowly, he began pumping it, watching the way your chest rose and fell in coordination with his momentum. “junkyu faster.”, you seethed, glossy eyes begging him for more. junkyu granted your request. he was only using one finger, yet it worked like magic. it wasn’t long until your walls clenched around him. “wait.”, you said abruptly, making junkyu freeze. “i don’t want to cum just yet.”, you announced, pushing his arm away.

you straddled him once again, taking his hand in yours and pushing the digit he used to fuck you past your lips. junkyu watched intently as you sucked your essence clean off of his finger, releasing it with a pop. you meshed your lips back with his, unbuttoning his shirt as you did. after reaching the last button, your hands found his belt which you undid in a matter of seconds. next came his jeans, which you unbuttoned and unzipped until your hand slipped past his boxers, gripping onto his length tightly. you felt him tense up underneath your touch. the subtle reaction gave you enough confidence to continue. 

you pulled his cock out, gasping at the sight you saw. “don’t stare.”, junkyu whined, bringing your mouth to his. you kissed his lips and stood between his legs. “move the seat back.”

he did as you said, leaving you enough space to settle in between his thighs. you wasted no time in circling your tongue around his tip. junkyu let out a shaky breath and awkwardly placed his hands at his side. a string of spite escaped your mouth and fell straight on his cock. pumping his wet shaft you looked up at him from your lashes. “i wanna choke on your cock.”, you whispered, only for his ears to hear. junkyu gulped nervously, clearly not getting the hint. chuckling, you took his hands and placed them on your head. “set the pace yourself.”

junkyu brought your face down on his cock, a shallow breath leaving him when you wrapped your lips tightly around his girth. his fingers tangled into your hair, hips bucking upward as he instated some friction. it didn’t take too long for him to get the hang of it. his hips moved up and he shoved your head down cause his tip to hit the back of your throat. a lewd groan left his mouth every time you gagged around him. lost in the rhythm he’d set, junkyu fucked your mouth in earnest.

the sudden uncalled ring of his phone made you both jump in your places. junkyu uncoordinatedly reached over for his phone, bringing it to his ear as soon as he found it. his face scrunched in annoyance, eyes widening soon thereafter. “shit i forgot to answer it.”

after pressing the green button, junkyu brought the device back up to his ear, bouncing his thigh impatiently.

“hello?” “yeah okay.” “we’ll be waiting.” “we’re literally the only car here.” ‘you’ll find us.” “get here fast.”

the conversation ended quickly. it seemed like jihoon was on his way to rescue you both by the likes of it. junkyu tossed his phone in the back and looked down at you. “well what are you looking at? we only have fifteen minutes. get up here so we can finish.”, he instructed, patting his lap. 

you held onto his shoulders, propping yourself up so he could line himself up at your entrance. junkyu guided your waist down over his length, sucking in a breath as you bottomed out. “let’s get moving.”

your hips rocked over his ravenously while your breasts were pressed up against his face. junkyu’s fingers were digging into your sides, hips jolting up to meet yours every time they moved down. tugging on his hair, you chased your high with greed. junkyu sucked on you skin, painting it with red marks all over. time didn’t seem to be passing at snail’s pace now. everything seemed so fast - perhaps because you were racing against a ticking time bomb, having absolutely no idea when it would end. your senses were clouded. all you could feel was the growing pleasure emerging from between your legs.

“shit y/n keep going. i’m going to cum.”, junkyu grunted from beneath you. that was good news because so were you. your thighs were burning but you knew you couldn’t stop now. “junkyu fuck me please.”, you managed to moan out. junkyu raised your hips, holding them in place and began fucking you without breaking the pace. as junkyu fucked you speedily, you rubbed at your clit to enhance the building knot in your stomach. 

before you could even process it, your walls clenched around his length that was still pistoning into you, followed by your orgasm which hit you like a wave. the sensation brought out a loud and satisfied moan from you. junkyu meanwhile, was still going at it. “shit y/n just a little bit longer.”, he grunted, hips not ceasing their movements. trying your best to endure the toe-curling sensitivity, you grit your teeth and kept your shaking thighs spread apart. 

soon enough, his cock twitched inside you. a string of curses left his mouth as ropes of his cum shot into your walls, hot and thick. junkyu’s eyes squeezed shut, emptying himself completely before pulling out of you. you could feel his cum flowing downwards and drip out onto his jeans. 

“fuck that was nice.”, he muttered with a lazy smile plastered on his face. you patted his shoulder and fell back into the passenger seat. 

a knock sounded on his window, making your heads whip towards it. 

“if y’all are done fucking then i’m giving you five minutes to clean up and get into my car.”, an all too familiar voice, belonging to none other than jihoon, called from outside. 

junkyu gave his friend a thumbs up and got to buttoning up his shirt while your straightened the straps of your dress. 

“also, i don’t how, but come up with an excuse as to why the car was shaking so much cause my dad’s going to have questions.”

[lilli-chae]

Somewhere Only We Know - Rus x Reader

Art used with permission by @sansmania, Rus belongs to @bonelyheartsclub, and reader is gender-neutral! I hope you enjoy, it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything :’)

I walked across an empty land

I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

I felt the earth beneath my feet

Sat by the river and it made me complete

Yet again had you watched Rus shortcut away in the middle of a family tussle without a word, and yet again had you found reason to doubt his trust in you. He always told you that you could come to him for anything, and you told him he could likewise always come to you; however, no matter what you did to try and show that you just wanted to be there for him, he turned in on himself, shutting everyone else out to handle it on his own. You were beginning to think, while Red and Blue continued their boisterous argument, that it had been your own fault. Perhaps you had pushed too much too fast for him.

An unsettling, familiar feeling took root in you.

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

Rus watched you from where he sat in the dining room as you paced the family’s living room. You hadn’t said a word to anyone other than Poplar, who had asked if you’d stay for dinner. That had been about an hour or two ago, and you’ve been fidgety since. Rus wondered if something had happened in the last few days, because he was noticing you did this more and more often whenever he saw you. You were more to yourself, quieter… had he done something wrong? Just as he had the thought to ask, Ash and Nox called everyone for dinner. As he watched you quickly scamper off to help grab things from the kitchen, he wracked his skull for anything he could have done recently to cause you to be so… off.

An unsettling, familiar feeling took root in him.

I came across a fallen tree

I felt the branches of it looking at me

Is this the place we used to love?

Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Nox was starting to get pretty sick and tired of all this… whatever this was going on between you and his brother. The tension between the two of you could be cut with one of Undyne’s scalpels, it was ridiculous - and stars knows the solution was obvious to him and anyone who bothered to look close enough to both of you. Your souls were yearning for something your minds apparently couldn’t grasp, and he was tired of it. He enjoyed a good drama, sure, but not at the expense of his brother’s wellbeing.

Rus was closed off because of their time back… home. But Nox already knew that - it was so painfully obvious to him, a reminder of what they’d had to endure down there; however, as he walked alongside you one evening in the park, he came to realize that you had no way of knowing that on your own. Rus and him were two secluded peas in a metaphorical pod, of course you didn’t know…

Guess it was time for a little soul-to-heart with you.

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

By the time you and Nox had returned to your home, you were reduced to tears. Broken sobs left you as you sank down onto your couch, hand over your mouth in attempt to quiet yourself while the shorter skeleton went to get you a glass of water. If he hadn’t known his brother and you as well as he did, he might’ve entertained the idea of asking whether Rus knew of your anxiety.

Two hours go by before you’re finally calm, glass of water only shaking ever so slightly in your hands. Nox does a quick CHECK of your soul, to gauge if you’d truly be alright on your own for the night. He just barely stops himself from giving a chuckle at what he finds there on your flavor text.

An unsettling, familiar feeling is rooted in them.

He was confident it wouldn’t be there much longer.

And if you have a minute, why don't we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go somewhere only we know?

Somewhere only we know

After that night, that long talk you had with Nox, you knew you needed to reach out to Rus. How had you not realized it sooner? Rus was like you, needing space away from prying eyes while attempting to handle the turmoil within that your anxiety likes to dump on you. The ping from your phone pulls you from your thoughts, and when you look at what it says, you give a small smile. With a deep, bracing breath, you swallow your anxiety and head out of your home, going across the street and heading straight in.

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

He had just settled onto his bed when he hears three knocks at his door, causing him to groan softly as he rolls over and pretends he hadn’t heard it. His “cousins” could bother him some other time; right now he needed to focus on shutting out the world around him, to quiet his ever-present, whispering thoughts. The knocks come again a bit louder now, more insistent. Rus sighs heavily and drags himself over to the door, opening it since he knew the door would be busted down anyway by Blue or Nox if he didn’t-

His sockets open a bit wider as he looks down at you, one hand now on the doorframe as the other still held the door.

“uh… hey sweetheart, what can i do for y-”

“I’m sorry.”

Well… that had certainly not been what he was expecting, his teeth clicking shut quietly as he blinks at you bewilderedly. Before he can ask what you’re sorry for, he feels you hug yourself to him, warm arms encircling his torso while you buried your face in the chest of his sweater, jacket having been discarded on the floor somewhere behind him.

“Nox told me about why you’re anxious… and why you don’t go to anyone for help with it. I thought it had been something with me, and so I was anxious, and stayed away and- and I let it get worse without coming to you, out of… f-fear? I dunno, really, I just-”

Once you had started, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. Soon Rus could faintly feel you tremble against him, so he let his arms slowly, gently return your embrace. He was only barely making out what you were saying to him after the first few things you said, his mind stuck on your confession about your own anxious habits lately. Suddenly it hit him like a truck: you were afraid you had done something wrong, and it caused your mind to turn on you. And… oh stars, you were still rambling, shaking now as he had remained silent this whole time.

“And I’m really sorry I didn’t-”

You felt his arms tighten around you, skull slightly nuzzling into your neck as he leaned down, shushing you softly.

And if you have a minute, why don't we go

“m’sorry, sweetheart… i promise it wasn’t you. i’m just a bit of a mess, nyeheh…”

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go? So why don't we go?

You frowned slightly and held onto him a bit tighter as you muttered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He seemed to think about it for a bit before sighing, “wasn’t sure how to tell you… i have a hard enough time trying to talk about it with my brother, and i didn’t wanna scare you away.”

You felt a lump in your throat and swallowed it before speaking again, “Rus…”

You stepped back from him and cupped his face gently, looking into his eye sockets.

“Rus, you could never scare me away. I love you, and that means I want to be with you through the best moments… and the worst.”

He watched you in shock, unable to look away from those gorgeous eyes he loved so much, and certainly unable to bring himself to say anything to counter what you were telling him.

“I understand if you don’t wanna handle these things in front of others, I’m the same way sometimes. But, in that case…” you paused, smiling warmly at him as you brought his face closer to yours, just an inch or two apart. You lowered your voice to a whisper, rubbing your thumbs gently against bone as you continued to hold his face.

“We can go somewhere only we know.”

Oh, this could be the end of everything

So why don't we go somewhere only we know?

It’s hard to say who had closed the gap between your mouths first, or who had closed the door before you both laid down in bed to cuddle one another. All the two of you knew was that unsettling, familiar feeling from before was slowly shifting into something warmer, more comfortable.

The new rule was to seek one another out when trepidation inevitably struck again, to seek the comfort you both needed; to find yourselves in each other’s arms to face the anxiety together… to find the place only you two knew.

Somewhere only we know

Somewhere only we know

-----

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 1 | scheme

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Shouto Todoroki was standing outside your workroom.

This was unusual, as in the three years you’d both been attending UA, Todoroki had hardly been spotted anywhere near the support course rooms. Class H was typically avoided by anyone who didn’t want your classmate Mei to catch wind of them -- and very few hero course students had proved willing to do so, once they’d encountered her the first time.

Todoroki was one of the smart ones.

He looked incredibly out of place and yet almost comically festive in the doorway of the studio, his red and white mop of hair matching the horrible red and white heart banner someone had tacked above the entry for Valentine’s Day. He stopped midway through the door, eyes flicking over the other offensively bright decor, including several violently pink heart balloons and heinous red streamers that hung from the ceiling like sausages curing in a deli.

A ripple of interest went through the female segment of your classmates at his arrival, and despite yourself, you perked up too.

You didn’t know much about him, but Shouto Todoroki had the most interesting quirk you had ever worked with. You’d been paired for a project earlier this year where you’d helped develop an adjustment to his temperature jacket that used pattern recognition to help it anticipate changes in his quirk, in order to begin applying temperature controls sometimes even before he’d made the switch from hot to cold or vice versa.

You hadn’t spoken much on topics outside the project, but on the subject of your work, Todoroki had proved himself smart as a whip, asking insightful and probing questions, and making sensible suggestions based on what he learned from you. He’d been so keen on your ideas and so shockingly easy to work with that you’d lamented the project’s end.

It had only lasted two weeks, unfortunately, wrapping up before you’d had the chance to really delve into his personality or the actual science behind his quirk, and you’d been dying for the opportunity to pair up again and really study him since.

Less importantly, Shouto Todoroki was also inarguably the most handsome boy in your year, maybe even at all of UA. He was tall, strapped with lean muscle, and equipped with a facial symmetry that was almost more deadly than his quirk. Even his scar did nothing to deter from his good looks, only adding a roughed up, roguish charm to his otherwise pretty features. The first few days of your project, you’d had to pinch yourself on the leg more than a few times in order to reroute your brain from his face to the actual jacket.

You’d since put effort into ignoring his appearance, but you couldn’t really help that your eyes were pulled to him like a magnet whenever he stepped into a room.

Like now.

Todoroki’s own grey and blue eyes scanned over the faces of your classmates, stopping when they landed on you.

“Y/N,” he said in greeting, and you raised a bewildered hand. Several nearby girls shot you betrayed looks, like you’d been keeping an association with him secret. You’d have shot yourself something of a questioning look, too, if you could have. What reason would Shouto Todoroki have to seek you out outside of class? It had been almost a month since the project together. What might he want with you now?

“Hi, Todoroki,” you said, wondering if you’d awoken in some parallel dimension where he thought you were friends. “Uh, what brings you here?”

“I have a personal request,” he said in his low, soft tone, stepping into the room and making his way over to your worktable. He’d shed the grey blazer of the school uniform for the crisp white dress shirt and tie, and he looked unbearably good. As he drew closer, you could see the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt.

You self-consciously pushed around the messy wires and metal framing on your worktop, trying to clear space.

A personal request. Had he come for some kind of support item? Your mind suddenly ran with possibilities, and a thrill went through you at the potential to study half hot half cold in earnest. This was the kind of extracurricular project you’d been dreaming of, maybe even something that you could scope out and build as your submission for your senior project next month!

“Sure,” you said, gesturing to the other stool at your worktop and rifling around in your bag for a pen and paper. You’d probably need to take notes.

Todoroki stared at you. “Ah, not that kind of a request,” he said, eyeing your pen and paper.

Your cheer dropped. Oh.

“I had hoped to ask you in private, actually,” he said, something like discomfort flashing across his handsome features. He looked almost nervous, and you wondered wildly what kind of support request would make one of UA’s big three this awkward. Was he having a problem with his quirk that he didn’t want to cop to?

“Okay,” you said, looking up at him, “lead the way.”

A cool hand came up to grasp your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. Your face burned at the casual touch, and you felt the curious eyes of your classmates on you as you were led from the room.

Todoroki steered you through the hall and around the corner to a small alcove out of the way of student traffic. The alcove had clearly had the same treatment as your workrooms, festooned with a banner boasting a bizarre pattern of tiny All Might silhouettes interspersed with hearts. Your eyes felt like they might catch fire if you looked at it for too long.

“How have you been since the project?” you asked Todoroki, in the interest of being companionable. “Is everything on your vest still working well?”

A smile touched the corner of his mouth as he turned to face you. “It’s incredible. It still surprises me that it can predict what I’m going to do before I even think to do it.”

You flushed at the praise. “I’m glad. It was really cool work on. Your quirk is awesome - normally there are only so many variables with pattern prediction like that but the two sides of your quirk increased the possibilities exponentially, so the algorithm was hard to code. I had to get a little extra help from an actual computer scientist,” you admitted, before slapping a hand over your mouth, realizing you were rambling.

His smile widened and your traitorous eyes caught on his mouth. “You sound exactly as you did the last time we talked.”

You winced. “Yeah, sorry.”

His eyes widened and the hand on your wrist tightened. “No, I didn’t mean--it’s nice,” he said. His fingers seemed to grow the tiniest bit colder where he held you. “I would have liked to have worked with you longer.”

You tamped down on another blush, looking away. “Yeah. It’s too bad.”

Just then, footsteps sounded in the hall, and Himari Honda came wheeling around the corner.

Himari was another student you’d been paired with for a project at one time, and she hadn’t worked nearly as well with you as Todoroki had. A general course student with a quirk that let her track anyone within up to a mile of her person, Himari’s goal after graduation was to become an actress, with a particular focus on playing the love interest of powerful hero characters. She was certainly pretty enough, with large eyes, high cheekbones, and shiny pink hair that she wore in a long plait down her back, but that’s where her appeal ended. She wasn’t horrible, but she was a little too self-interested and it had certainly shown in how she’d handled your pair project.

Himari smiled winningly at Todoroki, and it became clear to you that she’d tracked him with her quirk. You knew instantly why she’d come to find him, today of all days.

“Hi, Shouto,” she purred. His fingers tightened where he still held your wrist.

“Hello,” he said politely.

You stifled a laugh at the carefully blank look he’d suddenly adopted. You guessed he’d been fending off advances of this type all day -- you’d caught sight of his shoe cubby when you’d changed into your own uniform shoes this morning, absolutely bursting with chocolate and brightly-colored valentine's notes. He was too handsome for his own good, it appeared. Still, it was interesting that Todoroki seemed not the slightest bit interested in what someone who looked like Himari had to say.

“Maybe I should go,” you said, tugging your wrist back, but Todoroki gripped you tighter.

“I still need to talk to you,” he said. He fixed you with an intense look like he could pin you in place with his gaze.

Himari seemed to ignore you. “Shouto, I was hoping to talk to you alone.”

“I’m a little occupied at the minute,” he said, gesturing to you. You gave a little wave.

Himari shot you a betrayed look like you’d beaten her to the punch, then puffed up like she was drawing up her courage. “Don’t accept her confession! Accept mine! I like you -- please go out with me!”

Your jaw dropped. You’d definitely not been in the middle of asking Todoroki out, but damn it took balls to cut another woman off like that. You couldn’t tell if you respected her or hated her for her shamelessness.

Todoroki shifted uncomfortably next to you. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t accept your feelings. You see, I was just about to ask Y/N out.”

Your mind went blank.

He what now? Is that why he’d brought you to this alcove to speak to you in private? Is that why he’d been so nervous back in the support studio, asking to talk to you alone? Shouto Todoroki had wanted to ask you out?

You wondered at that. You couldn’t understand why, when he could have his pick of any girl at UA. You were fine, sure -- reasonably smart with good grades and a neat appearance, but you weren’t anywhere near his level of mind-numbing attractiveness. More than that, you didn’t even have a quirk, and it was impossible that someone who wielded a power like half hot half cold was going to wade that far into the bleak depths of the dating pool. He had plenty of other options, so why come to you...?

Then, like a slow sunrise, it dawned on you what he was actually up to.

Todoroki was trying to get rid of all the confessions in one fell swoop. If Himari went back to her classmates and told everyone what had happened, rumors would spread very quickly that Shouto Todoroki was a dead-end bet. No one would try to ask him out anymore if his heart purportedly belonged to another.

That sneaky little fuck.

“Right,” you said, perking up and playing along gamely. “And I was just about to accept,” you announced to Himari.

Todoroki threw you a wild look like he hadn’t expected you to take this track. Shit, had you been supposed to reject him instead? You could, you supposed, but what hot-blooded woman in possession of sound mind and sound body would possibly do so? Did he also want to start the rumor that you were a complete nutjob?

“Um, I mean, I was about to respond privately,” you backpedaled. “Uh, nothing confirmed at this point.”

Himari gave you a furious look, her large eyes filling with tears, and turned on her heel, storming off. Your heart went out to her, just a little.

“You’d really accept?” Todoroki asked you as soon as she’d gone. Something unreadable glinted in his two-toned gaze.

You thought for a moment. Did he actually want to do this? It was barely a couple months until graduation, but you had nothing to lose in helping him. Maybe this was also your opportunity to study his quirk more closely, if you were going to be spending more time together to keep up appearances. You might actually be able to use him for your senior project.

“Sure,” you said, smiling up at him. “If you wanted this, I mean.”

A smile curved the edges of his mouth. “I did, yes.”

“Great,” you said, “Then you’re officially my boyfriend, Todoroki.”

His smile widened. “It’s Shouto.”

You looked at him in question.

“My name, it’s Shouto,” he said. “I’d like it if you would call me that.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. This was all pretend but damn it was cute anyway. “Shouto,” you tested it out, liking the sound of it in your mouth.

Shouto seemed to like it too, unwinding his fingers from your wrist to slip his hand into yours. The cool of his fingers between yours was soothing, and you quite liked the way it felt.

“Are you free Saturday, then, for a first date?” he asked.

He did nothing by halves, huh? You laughed. “Yes, I’m free. Text me the time and place?”

He agreed and you traded phones, plugging in each other’s numbers. Then he walked you back to your workroom and left you with promises to see you Saturday, after sending you a characteristically straightforward this is shouto text to confirm.

You smiled as you watched him leave, pleased to be in on his little scheme.

You’d never fake dated anyone before so you didn’t really know what you were getting into, but you thought this could be fun. You were looking forward to whatever Shouto had up his sleeve.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 9 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.3k

Part 9 - Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward to their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of four additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and provided overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But thinking of it from your perspective, his fiancée, who he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place, it certainly felt special. And like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance. 

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep. 

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts of getting up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed? 

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you said sarcastically, leading him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

“I used a Levitation Charm.”

“Oh. Weren’t you afraid I might’ve ended up on the floor?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as if doubting his skills wasn’t a thing Tom Riddle would do. “I tend to know what I’m capable of before I do it.”

“I see,” you answered. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you questioningly before you reached out your hand, holding it in the air for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, until he lay down next to you.

Your hand went up to his face and you ran your fingers through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while. 

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth every now and then, but she seemed calm. You laughed to yourself at the sight, as it reminded you of a cat seeking warmth. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’re going to earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you said, although it sounded more like a question. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said and smiled, finally sounding satisfied.

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been wonderful, although you had had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked totally fine to you. 

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You went over to the desk, where the Moly was standing and put the book beside it. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “The book?”

“The Potions book you asked me to bring. Don’t you remember?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

You frowned, slightly worried. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply. 

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?” you asked.

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down, you saw Nagini, who had slithered over. She placed herself between Tom and you on the floor, her hisses a tad louder than usual.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?” 

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was obviously an arrangement between our families,” he stated, waiting for you to confirm. 

“Yes.”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked irritatedly. He had not just said that.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you huffed, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he quickly walked into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom hissed, both at Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? Holding hands in my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can explain.”

Could you really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded. 

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, as you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. You wondered what his next move would be. Punch Avery in the nose, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room? It reminded you of the time he had seen Ben and you at the Black Lake. 

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say. 

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t,” you mumbled. “But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him.

“Why would he do that?” he then asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini’s quiet hisses disrupted your thoughts and you noticed that Tom seemed a lot calmer now.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot,” Tom muttered.

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents

to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you began. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, laughed.

That made you a bit more confident, so you asked: “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you while watching as the snake’s head reared up. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.” 

“Good girl,” you said and smiled at her, to which she hissed happily. You really had to get her some more mice. “Now, what were they thinking? What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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