#(he doesn’t do anything by halves)

[archivistofnerddom]

How the Batch responds to someone who denigrates the color pink in front of them

And God forbid if this happens when Omega is figuring out her personal style, preferences, and fashion sense.

The Batch would certainly not ascribe to the belief that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. They make it their personal mission to prove that that’s nonsense.

Hunter

Guess who found pink-handled knives? And guess who will always at least two strapped to his belt at all times?

Rambo Barbie over here has traded out his usual bandana for a bright pink one. He’s wearing it with absolute and complete unfazed confidence. Giggle about it at your own risk and peril.

Just in case the knives and bandana were a little too subtle, he makes a point of wearing pink (possibly flannel) shirts regularly. Said shirts run the full spectrum of pink, but that’s fine. He thinks he looks good in the color.

He will absolutely look anyone who goes off about the pink/blue gendered thing dead in the eye and just go, “No.” That usually stops the BS in its tracks.

Crosshair

This man knows he looks good in black. That doesn’t stop him from having pink be his new go-to highlight color. All of the little accessories and details on his armor and helmet are now a lovely share of pink.

When his hair starts coming back in, he starts coloring to a nice light pink (blush) color. Just don’t mistake the pink hair for friendliness though. He’s still a snarky bastard.

His Firepuncher gets a makeover too. Crosshair enjoys taking people out with a neon pink sniper rifle. (It sets a very specific, very petty tone — and he’s here for it.)

He will also intentionally be a little shit and set people up to get verbally knocked down a peg or three. Tech has roughly five versions of the same speech about how assigned gendering colors is an outdated concept. Crosshair is going to do his twin a solid and let him loose on idiots. (He enjoys watching the chaos and panic that unfolds.)

Tech

Like I said, he will give a full lecture about the fallacy of “Pink is for girls, and blue is for boys.” Oh, did you want to see slides to go along with that? Here, he’s got those too.

Tech shows up with pink-framed goggles, a pink-cased data pad, and pink embroidery on all his pockets and pouches within 24 hours. For him, fashion is functional first, but it can also be fun and make a statement.

Did you say give the Marauder a new paint job? Why yes, it is time that it got a new look. Thank you so much for suggesting that. (And yes, Wrecker helped with the paint job and redesign. They both did such a good job.)

Tech also knows how to recalibrate his blasters so that his blaster bolts and stun rays are pink. He can show you how he did, if you ask him nicely.

Wrecker

This man comes in one setting — loud and enthusiastic support. And the best way to do that? Head-to-toe neon pink At All Times. (Seriously, this man shows up with completely pink armor and a helmet and just continues to do his normal job without commenting on his new paint job.)

Lula gets a wardrobe upgrade too. She’s now for a very cool pink jacket that Wrecker made for her himself.

Wrecker will loudly and eagerly proclaim that pink is his absolute favorite color anytime he hears a person talking shit about the color. He isn’t putting on a front either. He does love the color pink.

Guess who has pink smoke grenades and pink glitter bombs in his pack at all time? Wrecker. Why? Well, why not!?!?!

Echo

Bright pink kama for life! No, he will accept no questions or suggestions to the otherwise. His kama is pink, and he looks fabulous.

Echo may be a part of the Bad Batch now, but he was part of the 501st and Domino Squad before that. If you give him just the slightest scrap of an idea, he’ll run with it in a way that would make Fives proud . . . which is why so many people wind up covered in a violently pink glitter-and-glue mixture when they say stupid shit. (Wrecker may have helped.)

He gets Tech to upgrade his scomp to be metallic pink.

Grumpy Disappointed Mom Face gets deployed with great effect. Echo isn’t mad that you’re spouting nonsense. He had just hoped you didn’t buy into the nonsense that only girls can like pink.

Omega

Omega colors the tips of her hair to be bright pink. It’s actually a whole family project, especially in deciding which shade of pink would look best on her. She also used this as an opportunity to try some new hair styles to show off her color makeover.

She also got Tech to readjust her bow so that it too fires pink bolts. (They’re gleeful menaces on the battlefield together.)

Leaning into pink helps Omega connect with her femininity. For as much as she loves her brothers, that’s one area where they aren’t the best role models (even if they fully support her during this journey). She is the one who helped her brothers incorporate pink into their current wardrobe.

Omega also learns how to give manicures. The only polish choice anyone she gives one to gets to make is whether or not they want glitter. Everyone is going to be rocking pink nails when she gives them a manicure. (The Batch are very diligent and serious about maintaining their manicures.)

[whatsfourteenupto]

They’re in their Taylor Swift era. Just let them be, it’ll pass.

[inspiredrawaw]

Does anyone else think about how both Cosmo and Wanda had an absent respective father/ mother and now do anything to be as present as possible in Peris life because I do.

or how both of them being 2 halves of a whole idiot probably didn’t do good in school especially Cosmo and now make sure to be encouraging and helpful to Peri when he goes through school so he doesn’t have to feel bad for not getting an A or even a B.

I’m emotional about them.

this piece originally had Peri getting an A+ because based on the show he seemed like a straight A student. But I wanted to portray how proud his parents will be of his grades no matter what so he got a B-.

[kquil]

Request: Remus Lupin x ravenclaw!girlfriend!reader

Plot: Just them appropriately loving on each other, chaste kisses on shoulders and wrists while sitting in positions that may not look innocent, but it doesn’t go farther them that?

I don’t usually ask for bland ones, but some peace would be nice.

SIMPLE LOVING

LENGTH : 0.7k

TAGS : fluff ; remus being smitten ; feeding each other ; couple goals ; tickle fight

NAVI.

“How was Herbology, Rem?” you ask, sitting between his outstretched legs under the willow tree as it cried over the black lake. It was lunch break and because it was one of the lovelier days outside, you and your boyfriend decided to have lunch picnic-style along with the rest of his friends. Your group were also free to join, as always, and sat not too far from where you were comfortably melded against Remus, who lent back against the willow tree’s trunk. The both of you were cradled by its roots and shaded relatively well by its mourning silhouette. It was a perfect day. 

“It wasn’t bad,” Remus mumbles against your hair before pressing a brief kiss against your temple. Straining your neck only slightly, you share a smile before relaxing into one another once more, “how was Charms?” he asks, wrapping one arm around your torso as his other hand extends out to your right and pulls the small plate of lunch you brought out from the dinner hall. Remus had done the same but hadn’t touched his lunch yet. He prioritises yours and begins to feed unprompted. Caring for you comes so easily to him. 

In between mouthfuls, you reiterate the happenings of your Charms class. Remus didn’t care if the conversation got boring or had extended pauses, he merely enjoyed being around you. He also really enjoyed tending to your needs in small gestures. People often saw him carrying your heavy books to classes, helping you with your assignments and carrying spare hair ties on his wrists for you. Boys didn’t appreciate his setting of the standard and girls envied you for having such a considerate lover. 

“The flick and swish always gets me. There’s no standard for it so the outcome is always variable. The others made it look easy but I’ll show them and master that charm soon enough,” Remus smiles at your attitude and rids your pout by offering another spoonful. He loves listening to you talk. He loved hearing the sound of your voice; it was one of the most beautiful sounds he could hear. Whenever you got to talking, he always made sure to be completely silent and gave your words special attention. Oftentimes, whenever he’s reading his academic books for references and pre-reading relevant material before classes, your voice would be the one reading out the verses in his mind — that way, learning became a little more enjoyable and he got through the material much quicker. You finish up your plate of lunch soon enough and lovingly turn your face to kiss his inner wrist in gratitude.  

“Your turn, Rem,” you giggle and reach for his neglected plate of lunch. Smiling warmly, Remus observes as you turn in place before moving to straddle his lap. Naturally, his large hands move to hold your hips and you begin to feed him bite after bite.

In the background, your friends gape obnoxiously at the affectionate display, some burn bright red in the cheeks and others hurriedly look away. It was incredibly easy to mistake your activities for something much as the willow tree’s roots cradled your forms and obscured your lower halves. However, your innocent feeding of his lunch was all the indication they needed to know you weren’t doing anything beyond that. 

“You’re a mischievous little minx, you know that, darling?” Remus muses, licking his lips as you set down his finished plate. 

“Hmm?” you tilt your head innocently and lean down for a kiss, licking away the remnants of his lunch from his lips as you pull away, “What do you mean, Rem? I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

He laughs at your playful display and carefully throws you off him, to the grass. As you lay on your back, giggling sweetly, he leans over your form and captures your lips in a heated kiss. A stray hand traces the curves of your waist and hips as the other keeps him hovering above you. He never goes too far with intimacy, especially in such a public place but you savour the scandalised gasps of your distant friends. Your handsome boyfriend pulls away with a hidden smirk and buries his face into your neck, kissing your sensitive skin and tickling the area with his nose. 

“Remus!” you squeal in delight, laughing as brightly as the sun overhead. His wondering hand and the loving kisses to your neck and shoulder had quickly divulged into a tickle attack. Onlookers stare on, envious of such a loving and harmonious relationship. 

“Lily, can we—”

“No!”    

NAVI.

A/N : i'm so sorry it took me such a long time to get to this request, my love, i was in a rut with requests for such a long time and i kept overthinking them all. I'm afraid i don't make any explicit mentions of reader being a ravenclaw but it's still fluffy and cute and perfectly sweet for you x

[leth-writes]

bait

SUMMARY: Damian would like to welcome you to the family.

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST: https://www.tumblr.com/leth-writes/757800060720496640/requests-open?source=share 

Requests are open!

Normally, Damian would hate being babied. He was a trained assassin, the blood of Ra’as Al Ghoul ran through his veins, he was the son of the feared Bat! And yet, here he was, sitting in your kitchen, watching you make him some (vegan) mac n’ cheese. 

Originally, Damian did not understand the obsession his family seemed to have with you. He spent days complaining, stomping around the manor, irritated that his family was wasting time with some… weakling. It seemed that every time he walked into a room, the only topic of discussion was you.

As one of the newer additions to the family, and a biological one at that, it seemed he had missed out on something vital to his family. So, he decided to just… ask, as his father would advise,  just why they were wasting time on someone who wouldn’t ever be able to adhere to the illustrious standards his family had set. 

The person he decided on was Grayson, someone he normally looked up to.

He sat across from his older brother, who was preoccupied with that insipid app that Drake had designed, keeping track of your vitals and ensuring your safety. Finally, fed up with being ignored, Damian cleared his throat to alert his brother of his presence.

Grayson looked up and beamed, bouncing up to flop down next to Damian. 

“What’s up, lil’ D?” Grayson asked, voice jovial even as he spared a glance at his screen.

“Tt. Grayson, I must… request your assistance.”

“Anything for you, lil’ D!” Grayson leaned over and rustled Damian’s hair. Damian, annoyed, fixed his hair and leaned away.

“I do not… I do not understand your recent… Preoccupation. It seems the family has decided, rather unanimously, that we will be gaining a new member. I do not understand why we must lower our standards!” He huffed, crossing his arms.

Grayson’s eyes softened. “Oh, lil’ D. It’s alright, you’re new, we should’ve known this would be confusing…” He looked away, staring out the window for a second, letting out a little sigh. 

“I’m not really sure how to explain it, but sometimes, sometimes people, especially people like us, get… passionate. Dinah likes to explain it away as the way we… deal with the constant loss, the uncertainty. Vigilantes don’t ever do anything in halves, afterall.”

“But why, but why them? They have nothing to add to our family, Grayson! They cannot fight, they are not trained, they have no extraordinary skills!” Damian huffed.

“Well, it doesn’t always make sense, Damian, and it doesn’t need to. Sometimes, sometimes people just… click, it doesn’t always have to make logical sense. I think if you got to know them, maybe you’d understand it a bit better.”

Grayson smiled, looking back at Damian. Damian looked away, blushing. He didn’t like not getting something; it made him feel vulnerable, weak, like he was missing out on something everyone else just seemed to get.

“And this is, this is… typical, for vigilantes such as our family?” He asked, voice quiet with mortification. Grayson smiled softly.

“Of course, Lil’ D. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, and there’s no way we’re gonna let someone else get hurt. I mean, just think about it; do you think they could defend themselves?” 

Damian shook his head.

“And there’s no way they’ll be able to defend themselves. As vigilantes, especially in Gotham, we see the truth, we see how nasty the world can truly be. Most civilians just don’t get it. So, I think we can be forgiven for being a little intense, right?” He laughed, elbowing Damian gently.

“I mean, just think about Jon getting hurt.” 

Damian scowled. “I would not allow it. It would never happen.” He said, certainty clear in his voice.

Grayson snorted. “I know, Lil’ D. I’m just using him as an example; now take those feelings, and imagine if Jon couldn’t defend himself. “

“I-I do not know what I would do.”

“And that’s okay, you’ll get it eventually, okay? It’s hard to come to terms with, at first.”

“I still do not understand why you have chosen such an unworthy target for your affections, but I will… try. To understand.” Damian looked down, face tinged slightly red in embarrassment. 

Grayson ruffled his hair again, and peeked at his screen. “Maybe ask Cass to take you, or Jason? I have a shift in a little while. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you, Damian. It’s okay to have questions, to not get it. It’ll click eventually.”

So, Damian did.

While embarrassing, the idea of not getting something that was clearly of high importance to his family rankled in his chest. So, he approached Cain and asked for her help.

She was in her studio, as she normally was at noon on the weekends, working on a new routine. Damian paused in the door, waiting for her to finish up. No matter how many times he saw her, especially during her performances, he was always surprised by just how graceful the young woman managed to be.

It was normal for his family to move with a lithe grace, especially Grayson, who seemed to move so fluidly he lacked a skeletal structure, couldn’t compete with the natural poise Cain held herself with.

She finished up her routine with a flourish, then rose to her feet with a sigh. She floated over to her water bottle and took a sip, before turning around to face Damian. She smiled gently, eyes crinkling at the corners, her slightly damp choppy black hair framing her face perfectly.

“Little brother,” she said, delight clear in her voice. 

“Cain,” Damian greeted, nodding his head and moving into the room.

Cain sank to the floor, back against the mirrored wall, and patted the wooden floor next to her. 

“Sit,” she said.

He did. There was no refusing Cain, after all.

“You seem… confused.” She glanced over at him, taking another small sip.

“Yes. I do not… Understand the new obsession you have all taken with that Civilian.”

Cain nodded. “Yes.”

“Grayson explained the general feelings of protectiveness, but was unable to elaborate; why them?” Damian crinkled his face, nose scrunching.

Cain laughed. “Stubborn, not seeing.” She poked his forehead, startling him. He scowled further, rubbing the spot. It didn’t really hurt, but he was not about to let her get away with poking him like a child!

She snickered at his bewildered expression. 

“It is hard to explain… Instinct.” She hummed, looking away in contemplation.

“Innocence. They do not know… the violence, the heartache… they are kind.”

So it was about the contrast, Damian concluded. The difference between a trained vigilante and a weakling.

“They cannot… protect self. Need help. Like baby.” She continued, sighing and leaning a hand against her cheek, propped against her knees.

“Like… Like Titus, or Alfred the cat. Need looking after.”

Just like that, it clicked.

You were utterly defenseless. Completely alone, with no one to prevent you from being hurt, or worse, killed. You were like a young kitten, unable to open their eyes to see their savior, like the one Damian had fostered.

A warmth bloomed in his chest. You would be like the kitten, and he would protect your innocence, no matter the cost.

Cass smiled widely, scrunching her nose. 

Just like that, Damian was clamoring to get involved. He could not wait until you were home, and he would be able to ensure your safety, keeping you from losing that childlike innocence, that thin film over your eyes preventing you from seeing the true danger.

It was Drake who had the brilliant idea to place Damian in the field; Damian, for all of his sword-related faults, was still young, after all. Someone as naive as you would be sure to enjoy looking after such a cute child, not being able to see who was truly caring for who.

While both Grayson and Todd had failed to make your acquaintance, it seemed you were too aware of stranger danger to fully fall for the ruse, he knew Cain had made inroads as a member of your book club. Surely, having a young brother by her side would only make it easier to get closer to you.

And just like that, the trap was set, and Damian was ready to act.

The next week, your book club would be meeting to discuss the selected offerings. You had wisely offered up Pride and Prejudice. Damian could still hear the muffled curses Todd had let out; you had no clue the extent to which you had so thoroughly endeared yourself to him, just by picking an Austen novel. Damian could not help but be amused, Todd was easy to enthrall despite his tough exterior; it was almost comical. 

Cain had brought him with, dressed in clothes he was told were appropriate for his age (Grayson had laughed and forced him to stand for pictures. He would secure his revenge, and make sure to talk badly about him. He would be victorious in the so-called prank war, after all, and you would stand at his side, unscathed.).

You opened the door, smiling and bringing Cain in for a hug. Even from his position, he could see Cain melt into the hug, smiling and bringing an arm up to pat your back gently.

“Hello,” she sighed as you pulled back, looking her over.

“Oh, Hello!” you said, looking down at Damian. 

He sighed internally. It would take everything he had, but the thoughts of showing you Bat-Cow would get him through the evening. He smiled brightly, artificially pitching his voice up slightly.

“Hi!” He said, stepping forward and shaking your hand with vigor. “I’m Cass’s brother, Damian!”

“Oh, so you have a brother?” You said, smiling even brighter. It almost hurt Damian’s face in sympathy, how widely you were able to smile. Was it due to your innocence?

You ushered the two of them inside.

“Yes, Our father forgot Damian would be home tonight, and did not arrange for a babysitter.”

“Oh, that’s more than alright! Here, are you hungry, kiddo? I’ll make you something to snack on while the book club gets going! Cass, you can take a seat if you want.”

Damian watched as you puttered around the kitchen, enamored with the way you seemed completely oblivious to the danger present in your home. You were lucky he was there to protect you; what if Cass hadn’t been a kind person? You would’ve had no idea you were letting a threat into your house, and into your life! Luckily for you, Cass would never harm a hair on your head, let alone let you get hurt.

“Milk okay for the Mac n’ cheese, kiddo?” You asked, not bothering to turn around as you pulled down a box.

He informed you he was vegan.

You took it in stride, pulling out some soy milk. He was almost surprised you would have some, but your clear kindness would never allow you to potentially offend a guest. Damian could feel a bout of cuteness aggression overtaking him, and he clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood under the lip of the counter.

The rest of the night passed without incident, though you seemed particularly interested in Damian’s contributions to the conversation about Austen’s works. He could not help but be satisfied at the impression he had made; it was not his fault the majority of the people you surrounded with could not understand basic literary analysis, after all.

Every week for the next few months, Damian would tag along to book club; he eventually managed to become your favorite conversational partner, though Cain was a close second, as you slowly began to ignore the others in the club. It was better this way, after all; they could not protect you.

However, Damian soon became frustrated by the lack of progress. They were talking to you regularly, yes, but he wanted you safe at home! He could tell the others were building in frustration as well, and yet the consensus remained; they would need to take more time.

So, he approached Todd.

And Todd agreed.

The plan was set.

Damian waited breathlessly in the alley by your workplace. It would be easy, after all, to get you to follow him down into the dark.

The second he saw you, he took a few wide steps back, and began to scream.

“Help!” He shouted, crumpling to the floor. He let his voice take on a tinge of desperation, pitching slightly higher to exaggerate his innocence and hopefully trigger your panic so you would approach without a second thought.

It worked, and your pounding footsteps soon approached.

“Hello?!” You called, frantically dropping to your knees in front of his crumpled form.

“D-Damian?” You cried, searching desperately for the injury.

Behind you, he could see Todd approach, syringe in hand. 

He let out a groan and rolled over, head in your lap. As you ran your hands over his back, looking for something, he surreptitiously grabbed your waist, hoping to prevent you from running, just in case.

Finally, Todd was in range. He stuck the syringe into your neck without a second thought, and you were out like a light.

Damian was just glad your hand had landed in his hair.

[misstycloud]

Yandere CEO Headcanon

Yandere!CEO who is known to be cold and strict, because he leaves no room for any sort of mistake. As a result, all the employees are scared to bits around him.

Yandere!CEO who despite his outer appearance is in fact very lonely, though he refuses to admit it to anyone. He barely even accepts it himself. Him, the powerful and successful business man; lonely? Pffft! No, no, that’s absurd.

Yandere!CEO who has everyone shocked when you managed to melt his icy heart. They wondered if he even had one to begin with. He must have, considering how he acted while with you.

Yandere CEO who is blown away the moment he realised his feelings for you. It was warm and fuzzy, and gave him butterflies- something that’s never happened before. However wonderful it felt, there was something else brewing alongside it. Something a tad bit…darker.

Yandere!CEO who simply can’t help but spoil you. He wants to give you everything your little heart desires, he won’t say no, it doesn’t matter what it is the answer is yes. You want a new dress? Done! You saw a diamond necklace you really like? It’s yours! Do you wish to go on a trip overseas? He’ll gladly come with!

Yandere!CEO who will let you have anything except freedom. There was no way you’d be allowed anywhere without him by your side. You belong to him just as he belongs to you, you are two halves of one.

Yandere!CEO who hates everyone who is not you. You are his sanctuary; his all. The person he can’t imagine being apart from.

“I will buy you anything and everything you can ever ask for, but I won’t let you leave me. That is the one thing you can’t have.”

[ivymarquis]

Not me vividly hallucinating about a certain scot eating me out until I cry

What you wish for

Pairing| John “Soap The Munch (tm)” MacTavish x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| ~500 Kinks/Content/Warnings| Cunnilingus, squirting, mentions of safe word, Johnny is A Munch(tm), the author is an American still trying to dial in a Scottish accent

Date a munch, they said.

It would be fun, they said.

And it is, for the most part- you can admit that with no hardship.

It’s just that occasionally (like now), it becomes obvious that Johnny is eating you out for his pleasure and your own is just a happy by-product.

“Shit, ah! Johnny! I’m gonna- hgn- Johnny I’m gonna cum,” you pant in warning as the Scot buried between your thighs goes to town on you like a man starved.

Every time this man drops to his knees in front of you, it is a guarantee you’re going to see stars.

This time he’s got you pinned on your back on the bed. You seem to be wiggling too much for his taste as he’s banded one forearm across your waist and the other hand grips one thigh to keep your legs spread for him.

No matter how much you cry and moan and buck and cant your hips, he just leans his weight on you to keep you still.

He alternates between broad swipes with the flat of his tongue or more pointedly circling your clit or lapping at the inside of you.

While he’s yet to disappoint, he really seems into it (re: you) today. Like teetering on has-something-to-prove into it.

With that sort of dedication and attention, it’s no wonder he’s got you squirting and squealing in record time as he slips two fingers inside and abuses that spot that has you seeing stars.

Johnny works you through your high, lapping up every drop of it like it’s his last meal. Your legs twitch weakly in his hold as he continues on.

You think that maybe he’s working himself down, that he’ll leave you be in a minute.

He doesn’t.

Less attention is paid directly to your clit, but he’s still honed in between your legs even as you squirm. “Johnny,” his voice is a whine in your throat. “Johnny I came- I already came,” like there was any possibility that he is unaware of that- given how you squirted all over his face.

He pulls off momentarily, eying you with a skeptical look. “The fuck’s that got to do with me, bonnie? Cum or don’t, I'm finished when I'm finished.”

Your brain needs a system reboot at that- you stare at the ceiling dumbly as he gets back to business.

He’s trying to kill you- there’s no other explanation for it.

(Distantly you remember how your ex never went down you- still expected head on a routine basis, of course!- and you swore that the next guy you dated would have to be okay with reciprocation. You certainly got your wish in spades, hadn’t you? Almost like the universe was apologizing in the most mind-melting way possible)

It’s all you can do to lay there and breathe. If it actually gets to be too much- well, that’s what safewords are for. But Jesus fucking Christ the man doesn’t do anything in halves.

It’s only after he’s wrenched your second orgasm from you that he lets up, crawling up the bed to collapse to the side of you.

“Soon as my legs quit twitching, I’m returning the favor,” it takes you a couple tries to stammer out the words. Johnny looks every bit like the cat that caught the canary.

“Oh I’m no done with that sweet cunt o’ yours- ye just looked like ye were gonna pass oot. We’ll give ye a break an then back tae it, hm?”

[huiyi07]

hey so do you guys ever think about how often Diluc is referred to as the ‘uncrowned king of Mondstadt’ since he’s like the only male heir to the noble families and like it or not, where Jean is the authority of the nation, he’s pretty much the symbolic face of Mondstadt and the values the nation projects— and despite his temperament, Diluc has learned to embrace it wholeheartedly. He’s charismatic, extremely righteous, and he blazes bright and gives the people of Mondstadt a fire that guides them in the dark, quite literally. Like he’s literally Bruce Wayne lmao

But he doesn’t want this, no, and here’s the proof- maybe he did, once upon a time, before everything happened— but he doesn’t really care about wine, he only cares about the winery because of the people in it and his father. He’s righteous but doesn’t give a damn about the rules and the knights of favonius. After what happened to him, he’s clearly a rebel at heart now, not some charming superhero who does everything expected of him, unlike before. In summary, Diluc was someone who was quite literally ready to become an (uncrowned) prince, pretty much royalty in every way except title- and on surface level, he still is, but he throws that mantle away in secret whenever he can.

And then look at Kaeya, his brother who’s always lived in his shadow. It’s easy to see that now, people don’t really project Mondstadt’s values onto Kaeya the same way they do onto Diluc, since lots of people hardly even remember that they’re brothers. And yeah people still think kaeya is reliable and nice, but also because of how Kaeya built his image after Diluc left— an excessively over the top personality that pretends to be sadistic, mean, and at the same time dripping with false charm. So despite that people still find him approachable and nice as expected of a knight, hardly anyone would call him befitting of a prince.

But Kaeya is actually so painfully and authentically ‘princely’ and kind, deep down— the way he deals with children, his fierce loyalty and willingness to protect people at all costs, his self sacrificial tendencies that most often appear for Diluc’s sake. Even the tidbits of lore we get about him scream aristocracy- his ‘ceremonial’ bladework, Alberich family secrets that reveal just how central they are to the kingdom of khaenriah. This is kinda obvious to any player who’s bothered to learn anything about kaeya, but to the characters in game, there are very few that know that side of him.

And whereas Diluc is forcibly projected the title of royalty and secretly rejects it, Kaeya was actually born into it- his family is very important to Khaenriah, and much like how he does with anything related to his past and heritage, he loudly and outwardly rejects anything to do with ‘royalty’. Diluc outwardly rejects what Kaeya shows (a darker, more ‘means justify the end’ nature), and Kaeya tries to hide what Diluc projects (a sophisticated and aristocratic upbringing).

Honestly? It’s as if they were swapped at birth. Kaeya’s real hidden nature, even after everything that happened to him, remains to be so unwavering and people-oriented, while Diluc’s true personality changed drastically over time. Not that Diluc isn’t unwavering or whatever, but Diluc mostly actively rejects relationships and prefers to do everything alone, obsessed with the idea that he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, whereas Kaeya always, always yearns for companionship and for people to be by his side- solidarity.

Diluc is the poster image of royalty, but his brother who hides in the shadows is a real king. They complete each other, balance each other out, represent the parts that the other hides. I don’t know if hoyoverse always meant them to be that way, but damn they basically represent each other’s parts of themselves that they lost. Yin and Yang, two halves of the same whole.

[minisugakoobies]

I Know | KSY

Pairing: Hoshi x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, established relationship, dancer!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: drunk hoshi, grumpy woozi, hoshi is absolutely whipped for reader, this is honestly just very soft and sweet!

Word Count: 816

Disclaimers: none, other than I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Even when he's passed-out drunk, Hoshi still manages to amaze you with his love.

Text Prompt: boyfriend texted me "my love I am intoxicated" and then five minutes later, his best friend sends me a photo of him, passed out, phone in hand, and zoomed in on one of my selfies - tweet from himbowithnofear

A/N: I'm back with another installment of my "texts from svt" series. At some point I'll make a masterlist, but for now, please enjoy this short lil' fic about my favorite affectionate drunk, Hoshi. Fun fact, I've actually had this one finished for a while, but couldn't resist posting Mingyu first!

Unbeta'd as usual. I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

“Please come get your man.”

Jihoon’s grumpy request is the first thing you hear when you answer your phone. 

“Hey, Jihoon, how are you?” you laugh, unsurprised by his opening plea. Ten minutes ago, you’d received the following message from your boyfriend:

LOML: my love, i am  intoxicatedd

And had been waiting to hear from Jihoon ever since. Though you were a little surprised that he was video calling you instead of just calling or texting.

“To be honest with you, I’m not great right now. And it’s all your boyfriend’s fault.” 

You can’t help but laugh loudly. Jihoon scowls. 

“Why are you upset with Soonyoung? I thought you guys were celebrating tonight.” 

“Because.” Jihoon flips the camera. There’s your man, all 178 cm of him, snoring his ass off in the corner booth. “He’s driving the other customers out of my bar.”

If you’re being honest, you’d been expecting this moment long before Jihoon called you. Soonyoung had gone out for drinks with several of his friends to celebrate one of them getting a new job, and you knew your lightweight boyfriend would feel compelled to try to keep up with those lushes as always. Not at their insistence, but out of his own desire. It was a point of pride for him. 

“Don’t worry. I’m on my way.” 

“Thank you. Please hurry.” Jihoon winces. “I know he calls himself a tiger, but he really snores like a damn bear.” 

You laugh again, about to disconnect, when Jihoon makes a sudden noise of delight. 

“Hold on,” he chuckles, and the screen zooms in on the phone still clutched in Soonyoung’s hand. “Do you see that?” 

It’s you looking back at you. From a photo, one that you recognize immediately as one of Soonyoung’s self-proclaimed favorites, from the weekend you’d spent at the beach last summer. It’s actually a wide shot of you standing in front of a gorgeous sunset, soft pink light dancing on your skin, and that knowledge makes you smile right now. Because it means that your drunk sap of a boyfriend zoomed in on your face, right before he passed out. Probably to dream about you. 

Soonyoung never did anything by halves. Not dancing. Not drinking. 

And definitely not loving you.  

“Come get your simp.” With a grin, Jihoon disconnects.

Tossing your phone into the front pocket of the oversized hoodie of Soonyoung’s that you’re wearing, you grab your keys and head for the door. 

It’s not a long drive to the bar. Inside, you make a beeline for the booth in the back, familiar with the space around you. It’s basically your second home, between being best friends with the owner, and dating (though he’d never admit it) his favorite patron. And, speak of the devil, there he is, the love of your life, head on the table, mouth open, rattling the glasses on the table with his powerful exhalations. 

Something else Soonyoung doesn’t do by halves - sleeping.

Jihoon nods at you from across the bar. All of Soonyoung’s other friends are nowhere to be found, likely having gone home once Jihoon reassured them you were on your way. 

Ignoring the common advice regarding sleeping tigers, you slide onto the bench and gently lay your hand on Soonyoung’s back to shake him awake. 

“Soonyoungieeeee, time to get up,” you trill sweetly into his ear, brushing his dark hair out of his face.

He cracks an eye open. “Baby?” he asks groggily. “Is it time to go to work?” 

“No, dingdong, it’s Saturday. And you’re at Jihoon’s, remember?” 

“Oh.” Soonyoung sits up, looks around. “Right. Oh!” His eyes get wide. “Baby! Those hyungs got me soooo drunk!” 

Laughing, you brush some chip crumbs off his cheek. “I know, ‘youngie.”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung’s eyes slip unfocused as he smiles. “Wait. You weren’t here and now you are.” He hiccups himself into a confused frown. “Why are you here?” 

“To take you home, dingdong.” Running your fingers through his hair again, you grin. 

Soonyoung looks at you and you swear you see his pupils turn into hearts. “You’re taking me home? With you? To your home?” 

You shake your head, gently tugging his beanie down over his ears. “How many shots did they make you take? Yes, you’re coming with me. To our apartment, where we both live.”

“We live together!” Soonyoung’s eyes disappear behind his cheeks as he grins. “You love me!” 

“Yes, I do,” you laugh, yanking on his arm to get him onto his feet. He wobbles slightly, so you duck under his arm, trying to steady him, but he interprets this in another way, cupping your face to pull you in for a slightly clumsy but rather passionate kiss. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers, nose bumping repeatedly into your cheek as you start to lead him towards the exit. 

“I know, ‘youngie,” you repeat with a soft smile. “I know.” 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[whateverisbeautiful]

🀄️reflecting on richonne

What The Ones Who Live has made abundantly clear is that finding Rick and bringing him home was a mission fit for Michonne, and Michonne alone. Because Rick didn’t just need to be brought back home - he needed to be brought back to life.

Sure, other characters could have located him and tried to rescue him from the CRM, but Rick needed more than a rescue…he was in need of a resurrection. And there’s only one person on the planet capable of doing that for him and it’s his wife, the love of his life, Michonne Grimes.

Rick is a man who for all intents and purposes chose to die because he couldn’t see her face anymore and started to believe he never would again. He was only ever going to come alive again when her eyes, her presence, her heart was back in his life. He was only ever going to be free from not just the literal but mental shackles of the CRM when he could hold her in his arms again and reconnect with the woman whose heartbeat he shares.

I love how this story stayed consistent to the message that was true in the main show as well, and that’s that Rick needs Michonne. And Michonne needs him too. Rick’s relationship with Michonne is the one dynamic in his life where he’s poured into as equally and deeply and lovingly as he pours into her. Where he doesn’t have to be anything but himself. It’s the one relationship that can bring him back time and time again no matter the circumstances.

Richonne is a love supreme because they are two halves of one heart. So saving him - not just in body but in heart, mind, and soul - it could only ever have been her. 😌

[kofiilicious]

“untied shoelaces” // luke castellan x reader

pairing. luke castellan x reader

word count. 803

content. reader doesn’t know how to tie their shoelaces so luke helps them and teases them about it. gn!reader. fluff, because that's, like, all i can write.

notes. my phone was like less than 8% when i wrote both halves of this,, but i pulled through

---

Okay, so it was cross them, then two loops, then cross the loops and put one through the hole… wait. What hole???

You let out a frustrated huff. It was probably your fifth attempt trying to tie your sneakers. You were trying to get ready for the day, but your laces came untied, and you wanted to rip the ears off whatever bunny this method was based on.

So here you were, knelt on the ground, ending up with either a messy knot or laces that fell apart when you pulled them taut. You weren’t about to cave and ask someone for help, either — you were too stubborn for that. If anything, you’d go barefoot before that happened. It was kind of pathetic, being a demigod who has to face monsters hourly and not even knowing how to tie your shoes.

Someone suddenly knelt behind you after another failed attempt. Two familiarly strong arms wrapped around your abdomen, and a chin rested on your shoulder. A mop of dark curls slightly obscured your vision.

“Having a bit of trouble there?”

Ugh. Of course, Luke Castellan, your totally not favourite person on the entire planet, had to interrupt you while you were moping about your shoes. You tilted your head to the side, leaning on the slightly coarse pillow of brown locks beside you.

“Not at all. You’re crazy.”

“Really? Because I just watched you redo that lace at least five times. You look like you’re ‘bout to cry.”

One of Luke’s hands snakes up to tap his fingertip on the tip of your nose. It earns a frustrated huff for you, letting your hands drop back to your sides, your shoulders slumping. You’re officially giving up.

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m going barefoot today.”

“Why? Do you not know how to tie your shoes or something?”

The silence following the question was very telling. Luke huffed out a surprised laugh, arms squeezing your gut slightly as he leaned forward, chest pressed against your back, to gaze down at your untied shoes.

“You seriously can’t tie your shoes?”

“Shut up.”

The son of Hermes’ hands trailed down your sides to your hips before finally making it to one of your shoes. His hands were stupid large, and your gaze lingered on the vein that ran through it before trying to focus on what he was doing.

“Watch the professionals and learn.”

Safe to say, you watched, but you learned nothing. Luke lost you when he made the two bunny-ear loops. Everything was confusing, and you couldn’t make sense of it by the end.

“There. Now try on your other shoe.”

“Try what?”

“To.. to tie your shoe.”

“. . .”

“.. You didn’t pick up on a single thing I did, didn’t you?”

Your sheepish grin confirmed his suspicions. The brunette couldn’t help but groan, rolling his eyes as if he should’ve known better than to expect you to remember — or even to watch, for that matter.

“Alright. Switch your knee.”

With a pout, you abide. Earlier, you knotted the shoelaces on this sneaker and pulled it taut, but the two loops didn’t retain. Luke stared for a long few moments, dumbfounded, before bursting into hushed laughter and grabbing your sides to steady himself. You could feel the shake of his shoulders pressed against your back.

Your face burned up with embarrassment. The only thing that held you back from going off on him was that his laugh was probably the most addictive thing you’ve had the pleasure of hearing and causing.

“Are you done laughing at me yet?”

“I’m sorry— haha! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

That lopsided grin on Luke’s face told you that he wasn’t really. You huffed, saying nothing as he began to undo the knot in your laces, which proved a struggle with his large fingers and his position. You didn’t dare help him.

Eventually, he rejoiced, untying the stubborn tangle. This time, as he tied your shoelaces the proper way, he tried to talk you through the steps. The words just seemed to go through one ear and out the other.

“Cross them over —”

“— loops, like bunny ears —”

“— one loop through this hole, and tighten.”

You were spacing out until he nudged you after you hadn’t responded the first two times he said your name.

“Did that help?”

“.. Totally.”

“…… You didn’t listen again, did you?”

“.. Nope.”

Luke shook his head with an amused smile. He stood, holding his hand out and helping you to your feet. He sighed out your name,

“What am I going to do with you..?”

You gave him a grin and went to take a step.. only to trip and fall flat on your face. Luke burst out laughing.

Motherfucker had tied your shoes together.

---

[gay-dorito-dust]

🐧

This is going to be really off from how bonding works lol.

But imagine that Aemon rants to Vaghar about reader having claim Cannibal to the Point that Vaghar gets curious over you (HC That Vaghar and Cannibal might have a big hate to friends relationship lol). So on one of these days when Vaghar its free to do as she pleaces she decides to look for the reader who is like "why the fuck does big old dragons keep coming to me" but reader is actually sweet to her and basically respects her a lot. Probably tells her how of a brave girl she is and how unfair too to fight human wars.

And Vaghar is like "oh if you knewww" and starts to like reader more than her own rider.

Cannibal IS getting jealous over this. Reader is his 😤!!

But one random day Aemon has the fantastic idea of try and persuade reader to marry him and he is being lowkey creepy and pushy. And what happens ? Not one, TWO BIG DRAGONS APPEARS.

Yes baby!! Canninal is sooo angry he may as well burn him alive but seeing the suprise and offended look Aemon gives to Vaghar as she protects reader its a nice suprise too.

And Vaghar its on mother mode. 😤💞!! She is lowley ashame over her own rider and will roar to him to stay away, then when reader and Cannibal leave together Vaghar wil ignore Aemons command and fly off with them too.

No because I love the ideas that reader is just so likeable that dragons just finds themselves attracted to them.

Besides I’m pretty sure Aemond and Vhagar don’t have a strong a bond as like daemon and Caraxes for example, so I wouldn’t be surprised if vhagar finds reader to be the better choice and wishes that reader was her rider, and not some wish version of Visenya.

Aemond: they should be mine, we ride the biggest dragons of Westeros, why can’t they see that we’re meant to be!

Grandma Vhagar: *sick and tired of hearing Aemond whine about you and just flies off to seek you out herself*

You would be with cannibal just chilling and all of a sudden an Aemond-less Vhagar just lands in front of you and stares you down as Cannibal growls at her in warning of what he’d do to her if she came here to harm you. He doesn’t fuck with you and neither should anyone else, not Vhagar, Craxes, hell not even Balerion or Meraxes if they were still alive would fuck with you with Cannibal to protect you.

But you just casually go up to Vhagar and start petting her snout and saying; oh Vhagar, you’re forced by the hands of man to do their bidding once again. You poor girl who just wants to be left alone in peace and yet they don’t respect that.

Vhagar is pretty much purring now as she closes her eyes, allowing your sweet words of praise to comfort her old and decrepit body into a state of rest; cannibal, you have chosen a true diamond of a rider with this little one.

Cannibal staring her down, still a little on edge but resonating how she feels about the selfishness of the Targaryen dynasty: I know and I shall treasure them as one until I die. But be reminded Vhagar that they are MY rider, not yours. You should’ve remained riderless if you wished to have them but it’s far too late, I’ve came for them and now they’re mine until death do us part.

Vhagar: I know that, dear Cannibal, but that does not mean you shall keep me from them for I shall always be watching over them when you can not.

Cannibal growls at this but doesn’t do anything outside of that because he doesn’t like you scolding him.

So when Aemond finds out where Vhagar goes when he’s busy, he will be ten times worse then before because if you claimed cannibal and also have Vhagar taking a liking to you, then this must mean that you are destined to marry him regardless! He would hunt you down himself and corner you somewhere remote as he looks at you with a weird and possessive look in his eye, as he then proceeds to spout nonsense about how you and him were two halves of the same soul and how you were truly a blessing for two of the largest dragons in history to come for your presence.

His dragon deity he’d probably call you because when has two dragons ever flew in search of someone before? It had always been people claiming them but never the dragons searching for their one true rider. You were truly a specimen for history to recount decades from now as historians ponder whether you were something else all together.

Could you imagine the future Targaryens reading about you in history books? The one whom summons dragons? Dragon priest/priestess? Whatever other titles they might give you in the future long after you’re gone.

So Aemond is obviously coming on too strong for your liking and all of a sudden, he’s eclipsed by not one but TWO behemoth shadows belonging to Cannibal and Vhagar, they have heard enough from Aemond and didn’t like the unease and fear that they felt coming from you as the one eyed prince kept hounding you with his advances for marriage. Once was fine but this was too much and they didn’t want Aemond to do you any harm just for saying no.

(Whether your are already betrothed to Cregan or Benjicot or Jace, or Addam Velaryon I’ll let you decide that)

Your hand is/is not taken as of yet and they will not allow Aemond to sully that because of his delusions and conceptions.

Aemond is shocked and upset to see that Vhagar was blocking him from you as you quickly mounted Cannibal, who was looking at him as though he were his soon to be dinner, and whispers; ‘Vhagar, why?’

Vhagar only roars at him and growling every time he tried to step closer to her, upset herself that her supposed rider was a weird man with an obsession for things he couldn’t have. She waits for when you and Cannibal to take off to the skies before following behind as a safety precaution, blatantly disregarding Aemond’s cries as they become nothing the further she goes, forcing him to realise that their control over dragons was merely a farce.

[metalhoops]

Steve didn’t know how to show people he cared about them. It wasn’t something he’d learnt growing up in a household with absentee parents and later, emotionally distant friends. So when he finally got to a place where he was ready to try and show others what they meant to him, he didn’t know where to start.

Steve had craved physical touch for as long as he could remember. Something as simple as tousling Dustin’s hair or letting Robin hug him was hard, despite how much he enjoyed it. So he started with something simpler. He made sure the people he loved had their needs met.

Whenever someone needed a place to spend the night, he’d offer up the Harrington household. He’d drive them wherever they wanted to go, no matter what the time of day. He also made sure they were taking care of themselves.

When Eddie somehow weaselled his way into the list of people he loved, he knew he was in way over his head. 

Eddie was lucky to eat three homemade meals a week, let alone a day which set Steve’s teeth on edge. He’d already gotten into the habit of stocking his pantry full of things the kids liked for when they came over and halving his meal-prepped lunches for himself and Robin to share on break.

Steve started simple. When he dropped Robin off to school, or Dustin off to Hellfire, he’d send them with an extra sandwich or a Tupperware container filled with baked goods or last night’s leftovers for Eddie. It felt less personal if it went through a third party. At first, Eddie had looked at Robin and Dustin like they’d grown a third head, but he always accepted. Eddie wasn’t used to saying thanks, Steve didn’t want him to. So when they were together, they didn’t talk about it.

The notes came later. They weren’t anything special. Steve would slip in a post-it note with the meal offering. They started out mundane, ‘have a good day’, ‘don’t let Dustin stay out too late this time’, ‘you want to smoke out back once the kids are gone?’ But time and Eddie’s inability to acknowledge them beyond a smile or nod made Steve grow a little bolder. 

One night, Steve picked the kids up from Hellfire. Eddie had waved at Steve from the back of Hawkins High. His arms half hugged around himself fighting off the cold in nothing but ripped jeans and a tee-shirt. The next morning, Steve sent Robin to school with one of his old leather jackets. It was the most ‘Eddie’ thing he owned. 

Eddie hesitated in taking it from Robin. Food was one thing. A tan leather jacket, admittedly not quite Eddie’s style, was another thing entirely. Robin levelled him with a look to let him know not accepting the gift wasn’t an option. He shrugged the jacket on finding a note in the pocket.  ‘I owe you a jacket’. Eddie spent the rest of the day grinning like an idiot. 

That grin turned into a full-blown smile the next Hellfire when Dustin showed up with a container of frozen spaghetti, yes actual spaghetti and not SpaghettiOs, with a new post-it note attached to the top. ‘You looked nice today’. It proclaimed. Dustin looked at the note with a screwed-up nose. 

“You two are disgusting,” He proclaimed before bugging Eddie about their campaign. 

He can’t keep ignoring Steve. He doesn’t mean to ignore Steve. He just doesn’t know what to say. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to become friends with Steve Harrington. He didn’t know what to do with Steve being nice to him. He wasn’t used to people looking out for him, sure there was Uncle Wayne, but they were family. Steve was something different. 

“Hey Dustin,” Eddie called as the kids were leaving. 

“Tell Steve he always looks nice.” 

Dustin looked at him like he’d just asked the kid to stick his hand in a mimic’s mouth. 

“No way I’m passing that on,” He shot back. 

Thankfully, Hellfire’s newest member Will the Wise, was there to save the day.

“I’ll pass it on,” Will confirmed. It was Mike’s turn to look disgusted. 

The ride back from Hellfire that night was tension filled in a way Steve couldn’t comprehend. The kids had loaded into his backseat with tight lips and pinched faces. For once, Will took Dustin’s spot in the front seat, more astoundingly Dustin didn’t complain. 

“What the hell is going on with you guys tonight?” Steve asked when no explanation presented itself.  

“Eddie said you always look nice,” Will remarked as Dustin fake gagged. 

Steve jerked his head so quickly in Will’s direction the car veered onto the rumble strip. 

“He did?” Steve asked smoothing his hair back off his face.

“Can you two flirt without a third-party involved and put us all out of our misery?” Dustin groaned, kicking Steve’s seat and setting his cheeks aflame as he once more veered dangerously close to the edge of the road while trying to get a better look at Henderson. 

“Wait Steve and Eddie are flirting, gross” Mike spoke, his nose wrinkled in repulsion. 

Steve watched Will stiffen in the front seat and that was enough to set all his walls of internalised homophobia crashing down because there was no way in hell someone was going to make one of his kids uncomfortable, even if it was another one of his kids. 

“There’s nothing wrong with liking another guy. It’s just the way some people are... The way I am.” Will shot Steve a thankful half smile while Mike choked on his own tongue. 

“I didn’t mean gross because you’re both guys. Eddie’s cool and you’re lame. It’s gross he likes you.” You weren’t meant to have favourite kids, but Steve could say Mike was his least favourite.

“So you do like Eddie,” Dustin shot triumphantly. 

Steve wouldn’t be hearing the end of it anytime soon. 

The last note Steve would give Eddie was hand delivered by Dustin, much to his chagrin. Asking Eddie to meet him at Benny’s Diner during Steve’s lunch break. To Steve’s surprise, Eddie showed. He plonked down in the diner booth across from Steve and levelled the man under one of his intense stares. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie questioned, giving Steve a conspiratorial smirk. Surely Eddie knew, right? If the others had worked it out, surely Eddie knew. 

“Couldn’t be bothered to cook last night,” Steve admitted and watched Eddie’s face fall. He imagined Robin, back when the two worked at Scoops Ahoy, deftly adding a tally to Steve’s ‘You Suck’, column. Right. Harrington. Get your shit together. 

“And because I thought it’d be a nice place for a date.” Eddies brows drew together as he examined the diner. 

“Yeah, guess it wouldn’t be a bad place for a date. You got one coming later?” Eddie questioned much to Steve’s dismay.

Steve’s head fell to the table with a thud. He wasn’t good with his words. It was so much easier flirting with Eddie in writing. That way he didn’t have to worry about being rejected. 

In one last act of desperation or stupidity, Steve pulled out a pen from his pocket and scribbled a quick message on a napkin, taking a deep breath before passing it over to Eddie. 

‘Would you like to go on a date with me?’ The note asked. 

Across the table, he heard a strangled sound before two solid hands were placed on his shoulders. 

“Are you kidding me, Stevie? Hell Yes.” 

[forthevillains]

Ok so here’s my idea… came from a video where a man hires a “wife” and pretends to have a loving family in order to get a promotion from his boss. The “wife” decides to play along and even refuses to get paid for it. The man falls in love with her eventually cause she’s so kind to him.

So i was thinking… what if Wesker had to hire someone to be his significant other to attend a big event/party held by Umbrella? Then he fell in love with her? Imagine he was forced to participate but didn’t expect to meet his love in a boring party 😭

This sounds crazy and kinda cringe but this got me so excited lol

I wanted to write something like that for so long so I feel u! I added a few things to make it work in my head so I hope you don’t mind🫶 (I wrote this while being sick so if anything doesn’t make sense, I apologize)

It was a very important evening to all workers of Umbrella. Everyone was invited and well, the more known they were, the more important their presence would be. Everyone was allowed and not just that - they were expected to bring their other halves, significant others. Wesker wouldn’t care at first. He didn’t want to come anyway, he thought of it as a waste of time, so why should he care? Though when he tried to talk to Spencer, to convince him that he could use that time to work on the research instead, it was to no avail. All Spencer did was tell him to bring some girl too.

Wesker’s annoyance and anger got the best of him. If people thought of him as grumpy before, he’s become an absolute Satan now. Especially when he got to know that he’s to take a woman to the party. Why would he do that anyway? He doesn’t have one, he doesn’t need one, it all sounded so stupid. Is he supposed to find a girlfriend that quick only to dump her as soon as it’s over? No that would be even more stupid.

Wesker knew he had to appear eventually and if he was to do so, he needed someone to act as his partner. An act is all it has to be…

Suddenly an idea popped into his mind. A genius one to be exact. He never thought that he’d come to do something like that, but the opportunity like this could not be wasted. If he didn’t have a spouse, he would simply hire one. And who would be better for the job than someone he already knows? Someone who’s worked for him for a while undercover, someone who always gets the job done - you.

"What the fuck did you just say?!” You nearly choked on your coffee when Wesker informed you about the situation through the phone.

"Just one night, you’re going to act like a girlfriend of mine, be nice to whoever talks to you and at least pretend to have manners. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” He explains once more, his lips curving into a wicked smile at your reaction. You two weren’t on best terms exactly, but he was willing to pay how much you asked and you were willing to do any filthy job for him. You worked perfectly fine, however only as partners at work.

"I’m an agent, Wesker, not some of your whor-“

"How much do you want, dear?“ he interrupted you. He knew you couldn’t say no to such an easy job. All you wanted was money and he was willing to deliver. So you agreed, though you knew he wouldn’t make it easy for you.

You two made the deal and of course, he wouldn’t let you drown in your own questions about the evening, so you were properly informed, even gifted what you were to wear.

For the whole evening you tried not to leave Wesker’s side. As if he’d let you anyway. You knew what Umbrella was and if you felt anything apart from disgust as you entered, hand in hand with the head researcher, it was curiosity. You were nervous, yet made sure to be observant. It was your first time in there, although you’ve been working with Wesker for a while.

It didn’t take much time for people to notice you, their gazes not leaving you for even a second as realization of who you’re there with hit them. Some of them whispered to each other, some just stared in a surprise. It’s not like anyone would expect Albert Wesker himself to be close to someone, especially in a romantic kind of way. He was a loner, someone who didn’t trust anybody apart from himself, who only talked to two people more than was necessary.

Soon you met a few other scientists and you could feel how Albert was tense as he held you, his arm around your waist, gripping onto you tightly whenever someone was talking to you. You looked at him each time he did that only to find out that he was paying you no other attention. Or so you thought.

It was only about time you let loose finding out that there was no catch as you might’ve thought at first. You’ve began to seek fun instead of possible threats. Though when you were ready to leave Albert’s side he only tightened his grip on you, stopping you immediately.

"What do you want now?” You raised an eyebrow.

"You’re staying here with me like a good loving girlfriend would,” Wesker immediately replied.

"Oh right… I should’ve expected that if you had a girlfriend you’d treat her like a dog.” Your words were harsh and inappropriate, but that was the way you are - honest whenever you could. And since no one could hear the two of you as you kept the distance, you said what was on your mind.

"How I would treat a woman is none of your concerns. You’re staying here.” What you didn’t know is that he wanted you by his side to avoid any unnecessary interaction with others. There were too many people that despised him and it wouldn’t be far from truth that he felt the same way towards them, if not even worse. He needed you, you were the most comfort he could have there even if you were just an agent who happened to work for him.

"Albert! I-I mean we have been looking for you.” It’s no surprise that William with his wife appeared, but it almost made you jump, which made them turn towards you. "And who is this?”

Wesker let you introduce yourself on your own, to make it more difficult for you, grinning at you the whole time. It was quite entertaining seeing you struggle with saying out loud that you’re his girlfriend. You surely needed a shot after that. And this time, he even let you go. Which was probably not the best idea. You didn’t get too drunk, but enough to be a little tipsy.

You roamed around like a lost puppy, telling yourself that you were looking for toilets, but deep inside you knew you just grew more curious knowing this place is free for you to explore without any restraints. However Albert never really let you out of his sight. His shades were very good at hiding his eyes so that no one knew he wasn’t listening to them at all, that he didn’t even look them in the eyes as he shook their hands. You were his girlfriend for the day and he would not risk anything knowing how much you loved to play games with him. Even though he loved it too…

When you disappeared in the hallway, he was right behind you, immediately pinning you to the nearest wall. "Where do you think you’re going, dearheart?”

You gasped at the impact and looked up at him. "I needed to pee,” you said.

Wesker looked you up and down, thinking whether to trust you or not. But no matter how hard he tried to do just that, his eyes got stuck on how beautiful the dress made you look, especially in the cleavage area.

"My eyes are up here, Wesker,” you frowned. You maybe couldn’t see his eyes but you sure felt his burning gaze on your skin and the way his head was tilted downwards also hinted where he was really looking.

"Really?” Now he looked into your eyes and you wished nothing more than to see his own in that moment. Drunk or not, you’d always appreciate Wesker when he wasn’t acting like a grumpy old man.

He leaned forward, his nose brushing against your cheek lightly, before he whispered "I apologize, my dear, I didn’t know.” His words sent shivers down your spine and you tried to make a step back, even though you were so close to the wall it almost hurt your back. That made him smirk.

Wesker was never a touchy person, but right now, after he had few glasses of wine himself, he couldn’t resist the way you looked, not only talking about how good you smelled. And you were all his, for this night at least. Before you got the chance to ask him what the hell is he doing, he gently kissed your cheek, his lips slowly moving towards your jaw. He found it adorable when you threw your head back to give him more access, sliding a hand to your lower back to support your trembling body.

"This wasn’t part of the deal,” you choked out, trying your best to not let out any sound of pleasure.

"I feel like this is what couples do, though. Don’t you think so too?” His mouth moved even lower, his tongue caressing your skin before he nibbled at your neck lightly, drawing another gasp out of you. He felt unprofessional, he was suddenly nothing but a man in need. How the hell did you taste so sweet?

He began to kiss your neck, too caught up in the moment, in how good you tasted. His teeth kept grazing your skin, over and over again, teasing you, leaving you scared whether he would sink them into your neck like a vampire or not. You didn’t even want to think about it, because if you did - you’d probably come to conclusion that you like it.

Though, instead of sinking his teeth into you, he sucked in your delicate skin, forcing a moan out of you. It flattered him, it really did. The way you squirmed in his arms, the way your heartbeat quickened, breath ragged and pupils dilated… He was too caught up in all that, he got carried away (or maybe he did it on purpose).

Suddenly an echo of steps could be heard and he was forced to pull away from you, as a few of his co-workers walked by, already giving the two of you disgusted looks. Wesker only nodded at them to get going before turning back to you.

"That was a mistake.” He spoke, breathless, one of his palms already on your cheek, gently caressing it. And it meant one thing - he didn’t mean the words. All of his actions sold him out. No matter what he’d say, it wouldn’t save him now. No matter how calm he acted.

You were a totally different case though, your head was dizzy and you couldn’t tell if what just happened was real or a dream. You felt like you were floating, but still, you nodded. "We should… get back,” you then muttered and tried to make a step forward, but your knees failed you and you almost fell to the ground. If it wasn’t for your boyfriend for the night who quickly caught you. "Sorry.” You only added. He couldn’t comprehend whether it was the alcohol or his doings that got you like that, but he somehow found it cute. But you could never know, he was too good at hiding his own feelings.

When you got back, it was all the same, except for a few details that you probably wouldn’t even be able to catch. Wesker’s hold on you was firm, yet gentle, his gaze kept drifting towards you as he scanned your body language to know if you’re alright. He was trying to see if the moment the two of you had did leave a mark on you only physically or also mentally. He wanted to know how you felt. But he wouldn’t dare ask, not in front of all these people. So he just waited for the end of the night. Only taking in how beautiful you looked, how well you talked your way out of all the questions even with alcohol in your system. He truly admired your talents, how well you worked with people. Though what he enjoyed the most was your warmth. Something he hasn’t felt for a while as he was a workaholic, with no time for lovers, not even affairs. He thought he didn’t need physical touch, but your body next to his felt perhaps too good.

Finally, it was over. You were able to say goodbyes to the very few people that dared approach you, before the two of you finally left the building, both glad it was finally over. The silence between you was uncomfortable, tense and even though you wanted to speak up, you were afraid of making it all just worse. You might’ve talked your way out of discussions about opinions on animal or human testing, but for sure you couldn’t find one good word in a conversation with the man beside you.

Only when you two entered the car, Wesker in driver’s seat and you in passenger seat, then he sighed in relief as it was just the two of you. And that alone made you speak up.

"Don’t say anything, whatever it is, I don’t wanna talk about it, I’m too done for that,” you say before he has the chance to say anything and for once he gives up, knowing that it must’ve been draining for you. Especially knowing that you hate special occasions and tight dresses. But you still did it, for him. And also for money, but that didn’t really seem that important to you as you’ve actually quite enjoyed his company (you wouldn’t admit it though).

Wesker started the car and let you be without any other words. He wanted to give you space after what happened and so he did. You were quick to fall asleep in your seat, making it easier for him to look at you without being seen at all. His eyes kept drifting towards your neck the most and it took all his self control not to grin at the hickeys. God did he want to do it again.

His first intentions were to bring you to your house and drop you off in there, but as you slept in the seat next to him, he changed his mind. You were going home with him whether you liked it or not. He paid you for the whole night anyway, so you couldn’t say a word against it even if you were awake.

If you were still asleep when he got home, he’d carefully take you in his arms and carry you all the way to his bed. You might wake up alone the next day, but you’d surely know who was the one to take care of you. And even though he wouldn’t dare admit any feelings towards you just yet, he’s surely going to be way more gentle with you from now on…

[edenesth]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Dear Soulmate

I'm sorry it took me so long, anon! I didn't know how to approach this and was waiting for a friend to do it first🙈

For my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast💖

Choi San — soulmate au (idiots to lovers)

In a world where soulmates exist, most people discover their other halves before reaching twenty-five, you struggle to find yours, even when he had been right in front of you all along. You've witnessed those around you revelling in the bliss of finding their destined partners, all the while blindly awaiting your own.

"I cannot believe this, I'm dying alone!" you cried.

"Pooks, he'll come when the timing's right, I just know it," Eve, your closest friend and platonic soulmate, reassured you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you poured out your frustration. Despite being on the cusp of turning 26, your soulmate remained elusive.

"How did you and Hwa find each other again?" you asked, desperate for answers.

Eve sighed, "Whenever one of us gets hurt, a flower tattoo appears on the other in the same spot of their body. You know how clumsy I am, he found me through those blossoms. But each soulmate pair has their own unique connection. Haven't you felt anything special?"

See, in this world with soulmates, each pair discovers their connection in their own way. There's no universal formula, and you despised that fact vehemently. It only added unnecessary complexity to the already challenging quest for love.

Your parents had found each other through their inner voices, where their internal voices are the other's instead of their own. Your sister had found her soulmate through a compass on her body that led her to where her other half is.

And then there was you. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Absolutely nothing at all.

And as your birthday drew near this year, panic set in. You'd soon be a year older than the age when most people found their soulmates. Maybe you didn't have one, maybe he died, maybe he got aborted as a foetus, maybe—

"Woah, woah, just take a deep breath, everything will be okay," your friend reassured, trying her best to help in any way possible, "Hey, didn't you say you've been having a lot of dreams lately? And it's always that same dream?"

You blew a raspberry in frustration, "Yeah, but I doubt my recent dreams have anything to do with my soulmate, assuming I even have one. They're always about that art museum I go to on weekends. I think it's just because I spend so much time there."

She pondered for a moment, "Wait a minute, didn't you mention that San guy you always see there? What if—"

"Oh, hell no," you exclaimed, shuddering at the possibility of that annoyingly gorgeous mountain of a man being your destined lover, "I'd rather be alone forever than end up with someone like him."

It all happened on a day when you sought solace at the museum after a taxing week at school. Exhausted from dealing with incompetent classmates and antagonistic professors, you longed for a moment of peace as you approached your cherished spot in the corner. But to your dismay, you discovered an ignorant man occupying not just one seat, but the entire bench with his belongings. And not just any bench, your bench, the one everyone knew better than to occupy.

So you did the first thing that came to mind, you might have uttered some unkind words out of irritation. Looking back, you acknowledge it was all very unnecessary, considering it was likely his first visit to the museum and he clearly didn't realise it was your spot. However, your pride prevented you from admitting fault.

Consequently, he responded with equal unpleasantness. Even the museum guards had to intervene before things escalated into a fight. Like dealing with children, they persuaded both of you to share the bench since there was clearly more than enough space for two.

You adamantly refused to yield your spot and relocate, asserting your presence since you were here first. Similarly, it seemed his foolish pride prevented him from budging as well; thus, you both found yourselves locked in a silent standoff, exchanging wary glances as you engaged in a weekly silent war.

"Ugh, was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face today," San sneered, earning a glare from you as you settled down beside him. You were running slightly late, having trouble getting up after yet another frustrating dream, one slightly more annoying than usual.

Deliberately nudging his bag aside with irritation, you narrowed your eyes, "You wish, loser. This spot is mine, and it's staying that way."

He smirked in response, "Someone's in a foul mood, but then again, when are you not? Hope it's not because of that dream where your precious bench gets snatched away for good."

"Shut the hell up—"

You stopped short, a sudden realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't shared that dream with anyone, not even Eve. No one should know about it except... No freaking way. He couldn't possibly be the one you've been waiting for all this time. It seemed too absurd to be true. Why, out of all people, would fate pair you with this insufferable, infuriating, irksome yet undeniably attractive, bastard?

"Surprise, genius. It's me, your soulmate."

"I knew," he confessed, his voice carrying frustration and resignation, "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my other half. That's why I came here in the first place, why I was in this exact spot."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. All this time, he had known, yet he had still chosen to engage in your petty conflicts.

"But when I met you," he continued, "I was excited, hopeful even. But your attitude, your stubbornness... it's unbearable. As much as I feel the pull towards you, I can't ignore how immensely annoyed I am by your behaviour."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

"I know that if I had a choice in who my soulmate is," he admitted, his gaze intense, "it would never be you."

After a moment of processing his words, you gritted your teeth in anger, "Well, joke's on you, buddy. I don't want you either. Maybe it would be best for both of us if you stop showing up here from now on."

Days turned into weeks, and true to your request, San ceased his visits to the museum. At first, you felt a strange sense of relief, but soon, that relief morphed into a tumult of conflicting emotions.

You didn't know how to feel. Did you truly mean what you said, or were those words simply born out of anger? Your emotions were a tangled mess. On one hand, you had just turned away your soulmate after yearning for his presence for so long. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the resentment that it had to be him, of all people. Part of you longed to be near him, to reconcile and embrace your destiny. But another part recoiled at the thought, recoiled at the frustration his presence brought.

Unbeknownst to you, San wasn't doing much better. His heart felt hollow, the absence of your presence leaving a gaping void. He tried to carry on with his life as before, but the weight of your rejection hung heavy on his shoulders. But his pride also kept him from reaching out to you.

He suppressed the pull towards you, buried it beneath layers of denial and indifference. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, your essence lingered in his dreams, haunting him with visions of what could have been.

Then, one day, fate intervened in a way neither of you could have predicted. You fell ill with food poisoning and ended up in the hospital. In a panic, San saw it in his dream, a vision of you lying pale and weak in a hospital bed. Without hesitation, he raced to your side, his heart pounding with fear. As he stood in the hospital room, watching over you, he realised the depth of his feelings. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were his soulmate, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected appearance, "What the hell are you doing here? Who invited you?"

His heart sank at your coldness, but before he could form a response, Eve intervened, giving you a playful smack on the shoulder, "Stop it, you! He came all this way, and you're still going to be mean to him?" Turning to San with a warm smile, she continued, "You must be San! I'm Eve, her best friend. It's nice to finally meet you. Oh, and please don't take her words to heart. She likes to pretend as if she hadn't been dying to see you again."

Blushing furiously at her blunt revelation, you shot her a glare, but she simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Behave yourself. I'll be back shortly after settling the bill with Hwa," she said, brushing past San. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod, "Please take care of her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Eve," he replied, nodding in return.

As soon as your friend left the room, he took a step closer, his tone serious, "Listen, I'm tired of playing games. I came here because I realised I can't bear to lose you again. So, tell me if you feel the same right now. If you still want me gone, I'll leave and never show my face around you ever again."

His words struck a chord, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He couldn't resist the pull any longer, sitting down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you. Relief flooded through him as he felt you relax in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again either. I'm sorry I was an idiot," you whispered.

"You should be," he teased, planting a kiss on your hair, "But I'm sorry too. Perhaps I should have told you who I was from the start. Let's just... not say things we don't mean and hurt each other again, okay?"

You nodded, squeezing him tightly, "Okay, Sannie."

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[mothmanavenue]

In conjuntion with this art piece here

...

The war doesn’t end with a crash or a bang. Nothing explodes in a fiery shower the way he’d read about in books as a kid. There's no rocking of the ground as the world shifts under their feet, and a curling anxiety in his gut as he desperately reaches out in the link for a glimmer of one just one of his teammates, his family, his lover.

There’s just the dead drop of a falling lion as a ceasefire is called. It’s just the feeling of his fingers relaxing from a white knuckled grip on Red’s controls and his head falling back with a dull thud against the headrest of the pilot’s chair. It’s the unwinding of his spine as he slumps, all his strength and exhaustion collapsing in on him as he surrenders flight back to his lion, her battle roar softening to a gentle rumble in the back of his mind. It’s the gasps of relief and whispered gratitude of his family echoing in his ears, letting him know they’re safe, they’ve made it, it’s finally done.

Keith is completely unsurprised to note which one he prefers. 

Red’s purr is a constant source of comfort in his mind as he curls his legs toward his chest, eyes squinted in lazy, bone deep weariness, brain barely processing Shiro and Allura from their respective command stations outlining the conditions of ceasefire. He can barely think about anything outside the cramping in his fingers and the bleariness of his eyes from entire successive days spent raising Voltron’s sword, pouring his energy and willpower into convincing the strongest weapons in the universe to bend to his will.  

It’s ok if he misses something. The team will catch him up. They always have, when the tiredness consumes him, and he checks out of conversations and discussion, slumping against the nearest comforting shoulder. 

Allura’s voice is as sharp and clear as the crown that adorns her head; the queen of Altea in all her glory commands her troops from the midst of battle. Keith’s attention had been laser focused on ensuring Voltron’s continued presence, but nothing in the world could keep him from watching for Allura’s flashing blue light as she approached Haggar, now withered and raging, and knelt in front of her. Keith missed what was said, the words exchanged. But he saw the tightening of his Queen, his sister’s, shoulders, and the hand wrapping tight around the witch’s neck. 

It’s been a long eight days on this earth of his.

His brain clocks out in that moment, and he rides the warm haze he’s in, letting the satisfaction of success settle into his bones. It’s not time for celebration just yet. It will come later once the dead is counted and the shrouds are laid. Keith knows better than most the toll of war, and he dreads the time that will come when the lists of the dead will be handed to them, and he will need hours, days, weeks, to grieve people he did and didn’t know and names he’s cherished and ones he’s never heard, and each loss will still hit like a blow to the ribs. After that, the celebration will come. The ballrooms of the castle will glow with life and Hunk will dress in gold, Shiro’s white hair will gleam in the light, and Pidge will protest that she just won a war, she deserves a drink. Allura will stand regal at their side, and her shoulders will be light, free from the burden of an avenger, and she will turn to them with a gleaming grin and they won’t have any choice but to smile back at her. 

And lance.

Lance will be so handsome in his blue suit, golden and silver threaded in painstaking embroidery in the bed of deep sky. His hair will fall loose and natural in his eyes, heavenly blues, and earthy brown under the string set of his eyebrows, and he’ll gleam like a freshly lit candle. 

He’ll take Keith’s breath away and Keith will never want it back. 

But that comes after.

Right now, here, Red lands on dusty earth and grumbles in his head about doing all the work. He’s sure none of the other lions give their other halves this much shit. He loves her so fiercely it burns his throat and eyes. He can’t believe he ever spent a day outside of her. Can’t believe he wasn’t raised alongside this wonderful, temperamental, protective, grouchy cat, who bossed him and fussed him, and purred and cooed when he screamed in his dreams. Can’t believe there ever was a time he resigned himself to not having this. What a fool he was. 

The wave of emotion fills the cockpit in a lilting hum, and she lights up around him, Voltron blue piercing through the chunks in his armour. Red is as alive as a blaze and warm as a hearth in his head. 

Her mouth drops open with one final swell of affection, as she releases her paladin to his home ground. 

Keith murmurs a breathy thank you i love you you’re everything to me, as he stumbles out, hand grasping the cool metal as he comes to a rest on the shifting sands. The sand is warm from fire and fighting and it hits him all at one.

He crouches down, head hanging as he pants and gasps for breath. The emotion of the past few days shutter his eyesight till all he sees in the grains of sand sticking to his gauntlets. His head spins and his hair is falling out of the ponytail he’d tied it back in, and his breath is coming hard now. 

Something is missing. Somethings not quite right.

The swords have fallen, the helmets tossed to the side, red looms protective behind him. The shields are down the guards are dropped and he can feel the press of the Voltron bond that lets him know his team is landing nearby, drawn together with a gravitational pull.

He draws in breath, cool and refreshing and tinged with the scent of burning. Around him the sand is interspersed with freshly formed glass. 

He raises his head, expecting to see the heavens above him. He wants to take in the freshly healed scar of the newly collapsed Rigel star system. Wants to know how the blazing lights of thousands of planets worth of warfare look set against the familiar earth sky. He think he might look at the constellations, like he did not far from here a hundred years ago, tucked into his dad's strong, solid arms, the scratch of a stubbly chin accompanying a moving mouth as it named Orion, Cassiopeia, Gemini. 

He looks up expecting to see stars, and instead, he sees the sun.

Lance's smile is crooked, and his breath comes fast, like he ran, as he hovers over him. Their faces are so close he can count each individual freckle on this boy’s face, as precious to him as the gleam of moonlight cutting paths across the castle hallways. Oh this boy, this absolute death of him. 

“Hey lover,” the words leave Lance’s mouth with ease and anticipation, years of pent-up adoration spilling out with every vowel, “we did it.”

Keith feels his own smile steal across his face, “yeah, we did.” 

If possible, Lance's smile grows wider, crinkling the already forming smile lines at his eyes. Keith thinks of the products that line the counter of his bathroom sink, just waiting for a pretty bronzed hand to pick them up when the separation hits, and their resolves are softened by the press of late hours and long silence. 

A silly waste. Keith likes this look on Lance.

Aging.

What a wonderful thing he never thought he’d get to have. 

“You know what that means?” 

Lance's voice is smooth, the tremble that only a practiced ear could pick out masked by the sincerity and anticipation that has dogged their every conversation since that night on the dais. 

“We’ll wait.”

“Until when, Keith?”

“Until it’s done. When it’s done then we can have this. We can’t lose everyone for each other.”

“I’m yours?”

“When it’s done then. And when it’s done, I’m bringing you home with me. I’m putting a ring on your finger and I’m never letting you go. You’re it for me, Keith.”

“I’m not asking you to wait, that’s not fair-“

“I followed you into space Keith. I followed you to the point of no return. You aren’t asking me anything and that’s a damn shame. I’d give you anything you asked for.”

“When it’s done lance, when it’s done, I’ll ask you anything you want me to. I’ll come home with you, I’ll share a bed with you. I’ll be yours as long as you’ll have me.”

“Don’t joke, honey,”

“I’m not. You’re mine, lance”

“And-“

“you’re mine.”

The words reverberate in his head, and oh. This is what it was. The smooth slot of this thing that’s been so long coming.

Lance drops to his knees in front of him, one warm hand coming to rest on his cheek. Keith leans his head into it. He’s too tired for restraint, or shame, or any other useless emotion that would’ve held a younger him back. He’s got nothing to lose. He’s won. There’s no reason left to hold back. What a novel idea. It coats him and leaves him shivering at the feel of a gloved thumb running gently over his cheekbones.

His eyes fall back open from their unconscious close, and Lance is so close.

Honest, sweet, honourable lance. The sandpaper to all his rough edges. The iron that absorbed his burning heat. The shore that meets his rocking tide. 

Keith can hear the thunder of Pidge’s feet as they run across the uneven terrain. Hunk is following after her, his voice a cacophony of relief and joy. Shiro’s laughter is warm and thick as honey, coming easier than it has since aliens were a late-night story. Allura is giggling, high and bright, and a little hysterical. It’s ok. She’ll pull herself back together and they’ll be there to fill the cracks with liquid gold.

(Or glitter. She’d like glitter.)

Lance is watching him, and Keith’s eyes drift back to him. Lance hasn’t looked away in years. Something, some last resistance hidden away so deep he didn’t even know to search for a cure, falls away. 

He leans in and closes the gap.

...

posted on ao3 here