#He has given me a lot of sweet moments in the midst of some deep quagmires and im so thankful for Him

[raspberryzingaaa]

Hey what has God been up to for yall recently? Would love to get to praise Him for you!

[fourtyfourcatss]

Hello! I saw that matchup trades were open, and I thought I'd offer you one on my side blog @courtofmatchups

I'd like to send one in for Twisted Wonderland for an OC if that's cool

How Saima describes themself: I like to say I'm a pretty cheerful and upbeat person. I try my best to smile through tough situations, though it can be hard sometimes. I also like to say I'm a family person, and I will do anything to protect them, and my friends. I am perfectionistic, but sadly I am a bit scatterbrained, much to the dismay of my parents and older sister. Hell, I almost burned the eggs I was making for the first time. I have been working on my organizational skills though, and I’m happy to say that I’ve come a pretty long way. I can be quite petty too. If someone wrongs me, I tell them either bad puns or horrifying facts for a period of time as revenge. I'm also good at math, so my friends come to me for help with that. Also, in almost every friend group I'm in, I somehow become a therapist friend. Lemme tell you, THAT really takes a toll on me. I also have a soft spot for unabridged fairytales (they high-key have me in a chokehold). Some more lil' factoids about me: I wear my hair in low ponytails because I don't like the feeling of hair on the back of my neck. My friends and family often told me my hands get pretty animated when I talk

Likes: Anime, drawing comics, video games, unabridged fairytales, sweets (my favourite dessert is caramel pudding) and spending time with my older sister

Dislikes: Cruelty, confrontation (I will kick butt if I need to, literally or figuratively), anyone who dares to threaten my friends or family, arrogance when it gets out of hand, black tea or coffee (I cannot drink it unless it is sweetened or if I have it with a LOT of milk)

-> for saima !

[i’ll be using both sets of pronouns for her] — hope you enjoy!

twst ✦ silver

✦ saima has captured the heart of… silver!

✦ the first meeting is embarrassing for both parties; saima is waving their hand around wildly at the courtyard while chastising ace, and at the very same moment, ruggie is rushing to get leona’s lunch to the savanaclaw dorm, and runs right into silver. he trips, and saima end up wacking his face. hard. and then, since he was in the midst of falling, he hits the ground extra hard. then grimm, who had been on saima’s shoulders panicked, and saima losing balance on the uneven grass, falls down onto silver. its not a romantic position at all….

✦ after the apologies, neither of them could really let the situation go, small as it is. there was so many people around! everyone was looking! silver feels shame at how he did not notice ruggie, or even dodge saima’s flurry of hands. it was unbefitting of someone with knightly conducts. usually, he does not get so worked up so easily, but in particular, he had always wanted to give a good impression upon malleus’ friend, and now because of his tired disposition… 🙁

✦ buuttt it all works out in the end ✨ eventually, the two of them get a moment of time together, and tie off the embarrassing first impressions to start anew a very contrasting friendship! a man with a fatigued countenance and an upbeat prefect! though, it seems that while silver still seems to doze off here and there, he can still reply and recall what saima has said even while he was in a daze! how odd..

✦ silver greatly admires saima’s values in family and the way she is viewing the world, brightened in optimism and trying their hardest! he himself can understand the amount of love and drive that is given with the meaning behind every action. the appreciation they have for one another runs deep, extremely so the more and more they learn of each other and their pasts. he can see how diligent and endearing she is as a person, trying to improve any aspect — though, he isnt too partial to horrifying facts 😨

✦ he doesnt need a therapist, meaning they dont have to exhaust that extra emotional energy. he’s extremely good at listening though, so he will definitely be someone to confide in for saima! they can tackle vulnerable situations together no problem! he’s not too good at comfort, but he will try, and saima can definitely pick themselves back up

✦ absolutely watches anime and abridged fairy tales with saima! as long as he doesn’t need to do much, he’ll definitely be an active participant (as much as he can). he isnt too good with video games or the like, so saima uses it as a bonding activity for the two of them!

✦ theyre just the sweetest, spinning cotton candy with interactions. saima definitely tones down her voice to whisper in his ears to test if silver is awake or not. it sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. but oh, he absolutely adores their voice.

[mississippimothsandmemories]

1.18.23 post macro amanita dream continued: I guess the thing about Torrey not being with me when they saw me lead me to feel several things though I’m not certain. The clearness that I was probably going back to get him and to get ready. So we were late, not right on time. Would it have been impossible from the point of meeting them for it to ever be so then? For us to be as light and right on time? 🤷‍♀️ there was also the thought that Torrey could have been with them and it fit just as well. That he could join them and it would be right. I don’t know if this is tuff I’m projecting onto the dream now that wasn’t actually a feeling when dreaming though. I do think of nicks comment about us always being mean to each other and the way it landed and his expression. I don’t know what he thought mine meant. It was an odd moment and I don’t care because all the levels of truth and untruth to it are things Torrey and I are both aware of. I guess from nick I felt judged. And I feel that’s uncalled for in the given situation. For once I don’t feel he is a right as I always feel. Nor KRISSANA’s sarcastic response in text to my genuine pleasure/appreciate for getting clean bunny slippers back from their house. I didn’t respond to her sarcastic response because my automatic one was to return the sarcasm, and anything else would’ve taken more scrutinizing and planning and etc than I felt it owed. I genuinely meant what I said and meant it in kindness and wasn’t trying to change subject, invalidate, or do anything outside of that. I guess I feel mistrusted. Again, back to the dream. What else do I remember? Torrey was an absent part for most of it except that last part with tammy and Rick in the hotel room. He just wanted things to proceed as normal as possible but wasn’t a force of good or bad or really strong conflict, though it still felt he was more in everyone else’s world and time and reality, outlook, than mine. I began working on my pastel costume and then I think I woke up. I know where a lot of these themes came from. Pastels come from my love of the lighting in the common areas of the house right now and how soothing they are to me. I call them sweet tart lights. The n and k stuff is a running theme amplified by his visit and group texts. The tammy stuff I’m sure has to do with work and Steve as there was even the thought of a conversation there, although I don’t think that explains everything as far as her presence. Rick was the fact that I needed to return his calls and had tried after nick left but got voicemail. There was also something about uncle charles in there but I can’t remember… his daughter Jessica… death, the comfort he gave in life and even in death and the surprisingly warm and unexpected sense that he is with me, the fact that I have yet to do anything to honor his life and passing in my reality yet. Parachute blankets and a deep love for the colors and sights around me and the joy they gave in the midst of everything. And how deeply real and visceral and devastating and incomprehensible it feels when I dream those things about mom, about her knowing she is dying and not doing anything to fight and in some dreams going to stay or communicate with others but never answering my calls and how completely opposed to my entire life’s reality this seems, sure she would leave before and I couldn’t find or get in touch with her, times with other men, sleeping pills, shopping trips, taking a kid and disappearing, remembering how most of my life that kid was me. But the fact that she knew she was dying and would never call me back, would never say anything, was angry with me, and the reality that in all my dreams she really left that way and that’s how it still feels. That’s really really really damn hard.

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Funny Girl (Pt. 2)

Summary: Being serious has never been your thing, but when you find yourself at the center of a conflict that tears Fred and George apart in the midst of the second wizarding war, it’s hard to find something to laugh about.

Warnings/Notes: Violence, hospital setting, blood, crying. This is a second part per the request of several of you and also my own brain goblin. There will be a part three!

tags: @weasley2x @weasleyfilms 

It’s been several months since your falling out with the Weasley twins. The tensions in the wizarding world are coming to a head; the dark lord grows stronger by the day. Purebloods are becoming bolder in their oppression of muggleborns and wizards of mixed heritage, not to mention no-majs. Potter and his little crew have disappeared. Dumbledore is dead. Things look rather bleak. 

You wish you could say that you worked things out with your friends, but they both felt betrayed, even though you tried to explain the misunderstanding. How could you have known that they’d both have feelings for you? How could you have predicted that they’d both make their move on the same day, within minutes of each other, nonetheless? You weren’t prepared to choose, then or now. And that’s what they demand- me or him, him or me. So you distance yourself. You’re still friends with Lee, but your friend group has really broken apart since you and the twins have begun avoiding one another. 

In confidence, Lee tells you that he’s never seen Fred so on edge, and George has become more withdrawn than ever. He reassures you that they’ve patched things up between the two of them, though. It was your biggest worry after the fight, that they’d let you drive a wedge between them. That was foolish to even consider, of course. You’ve always known that, although the three of you had been a trio ever since you met, their connection to one another was closer than their connection to you. It’s only natural. They were born together, and, apparently finding the provided companionship sufficient, have clung together ever since. Blood runs thicker than any matter of the heart. No falling out could change that for very long. 

You, on the other hand, are left alone, without your two closest friends since first year. You try to throw yourself into your final year of studies, but your heart isn’t in it, and you wind up working with some others outside of class to hone your defense against the dark arts skills; you sense something big is coming. When the battle of hogwarts arrives, you have your first conversation with fred and george since your falling out. Mrs. Weasley sees you and pulls you across the room, eagerly shoving you in between the twins. You groan and nod curtly at each of them as she bustles away. It’s a sweet gesture- Molly has always liked you, and clearly wants you and the boys to patch things up- but it feels much more grim given the circumstances. Some people will certainly lose their lives tonight. It may be your last chance. 

You sigh and look at Fred almost shyly. His eyes meet yours gingerly, and in that glance is all you need to know. He pulls you into a tight hug, and you match his embrace. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says softly.

You turn to George, who pulls you into his arms without hesitation. His broad shoulders heave with a massive exhale. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he says.

“I bet it would be even better to hear me,” you say, grinning. He fingers the bandage over his mangled ear and smiles.

“We’ve been making some adjustments. Trying to see how smooth we can get his noggin, bit by bit. Soon he’ll look just like an egg,” Fred says, putting a hand on your shoulder. The way the three of you interact is like before, but more careful. The tension is still there. There’s a lot you need to talk about to really smooth things over, but the urgency of the situation forces you to bandage the wound as best you can. It’s comforting, at least, to know that they’re intentions are for the restoration of your friendship.

When the barrier is lifted and the hordes come rushing in, you fight right alongside the Weasleys. The three of you work in tandem perfectly, knocking out death eaters one after another as if this is your job. You wipe out a particularly nasty one and George whistles in admiration. 

“Done this before?” he asks. You spray covering blows as Fred and Percy run across an open stretch of courtyard into the castle’s corridors, into the fray. By the time you hear the corridor collapsing, taking Fred under its enormous weight, you’re too absorbed by the encroaching crowd to pay it any mind. It’s only later when you realize that you heard, even saw, the explosion, and did nothing. 

When the battle pauses, George is still right there beside you. The arm of his jacket is ripped, and you can see blood caked on his skin through the tear. The air is dusty and morale is low. You look around, watching as those who are able emerge with stretchers and collect the injured. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch a classmate, the girl who sat next to you in potions, lifted onto a stretcher, writhing in pain. Now that you can finally think, fear clouds your mind. George’s voice breaks your reverie. 

“Y/N,” he says. You turn to him. He puts his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes. “We made it.” You nod, blinking tearfully, and pull him to you. Your small frame shakes, adrenaline still coursing through you, your thoughts clear and urgent. George’s chest rises and falls as he tries to regain his breath. Over his shoulder, you see Percy jogging alongside a stretcher. He looks stricken. You freeze, your eyes widening. You shake George’s embrace off and nod towards the scene.

His face darkens and you both take off running to catch up with Percy and the students carrying the stretcher- on further inspection, it’s two boys from your year looking nearly unrecognizable, drenched in sweat and the grime of battle, their faces ashen. 

Percy looks at you but doesn’t speak. You brace yourself and look down at the stretcher. It’s as you feared. Fred. He’s pale, his breathing shallow, his body limp. 

“Freddie!” you scream, your heart in your throat. George nearly collapses at the sight but you pull him onward, knowing that above all, you must be together now, that in this dire moment Fred must be with George, and George with Fred, to the very last.

George, weak in the knees, casts an arm around your shoulders and you follow Fred into the great hall. Time seems to move slowly. You wave down the Weasleys, and they crowd in. Fred is set down on the stone floor, and you move to wave down a healer, but it’s impossible to find one who isn’t occupied with some other task. 

In this moment, nothing matters to you more than saving Fred. You yank on the shoulder of nearest healer, who’s working on a wounded leg.

“Get over here,” you say roughly. “He’s dying,” you add, waving toward the grim scene. She nods curtly at the owner of the bloodied leg and turns her attention to you.

“There’s nothing we can do. We’re waiting on transport to St. Mungo’s to arrive, but we can’t fix the unforgivables here. We just aren’t equipped.”

“Waiting? Waiting?!” you shout, grabbing her by the shoulders. “There’s no bloody time for waiting. Save him! Do something! Now!”

The healer, a sallow-cheeked woman in her forties, pries your hands off her shoulders and pats your arm sadly. She shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, knowingly, “but I have to focus on saving those who can be saved.” She turns back to her patient and continues mending the leg. You look around frantically, but George is there, pulling you to kneel around the stretcher with the others, before you can decide what to do.

“It’s no use,” he says, his mouth set deep in a frown. You finally take a good look at Fred, and it’s almost too much. You know that this may be the last time you see him alive, if this can be called living. You bury your face in his side, breathing in his scent. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

“Freddie, my Freddie. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you,” you murmur into his bloodied jacket. You feel him shudder, and he moans what may be an attempt at speech. Soon, the healers from St. Mungo’s are there to take him. By that time, you’re sure he won’t live. George, of course, goes to St. Mungo’s to wait, and you follow. The rest of the family stays to fight, Molly and Ginny especially resolute in their quest for revenge. Later, you hear reports that the Weasleys all fought like animals, hardened by grief. The waiting rooms at the hospital are overflowing, and you and George are left to slump on the floor. You throw your overcoat across your laps for warmth and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, after many moments of silence. 

“I love you, George Weasley.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry about everything.”

“Me too,” he says. You feel him shake softly with tears, and you hold him as he cries. Eventually, his breathing becomes more even, and he slumps into your lap, asleep. You hold him protectively for hours, waiting for any news at all, but none comes. A few times you flag down St. Mungo’s staff and ask about Fred, but they have nothing. By morning, when rumors arrive that Voldemort has been defeated, cheers ring through the halls, but you and George remain in limbo. Others like you fill the waiting area, their faces timid and bleak. Nobody speaks very much. 

Finally, the nurses let you in to see him, and he’s a pitiful sight. But he’s alive. Watching the hospital sheets rise and fall with his breath is the greatest gift. The nurses tell you he should regain consciousness soon, and you sit alert beside the bed, hope flooding your body. You clasp George’s clammy hands in yours while you wait, stroking the back of his hands soothingly. 

Finally, Fred stirs. He blinks gingerly and looks around the room, unable even to raise his head from the pillow. Immediately, George is at the bedside, grinning.

“Fred!!” he cries, grasping his brother’s face in his hands excitedly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, you handsome devil.”

“What happened?” Fred asks weakly, looking dazed. Your body goes electric with joy at the sound of his voice, and you run to find a nurse, as you were instructed to do. You grab the first person you see in scrubs and pull him back to Fred’s room. When you burst in the door, Fred inhales sharply. 

“Y/N?” he asks softly.

“Freddie!” you exclaim. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that dopey voice.” You rush to his bedside and hold his hand while the nurse checks his vitals. “There’s so much I have to tell you. If you had… well, you didn’t, I suppose is the point, and… Freddie, I love you. And I’m sorry about the past few months.”

“Y/N. I love you too. And I’m sorry, too. Even sorrier.”

“Good,” you say crossly. George looks at you questioningly. “What? He started it!” Fred laughs weakly and you kiss him gently on the forehead. You’re not sure what your relationship to the boys will be going forward, but for now, it’s clear: all is forgiven, and acknowledged, and accepted.

[jazzanddaydreams]

Evidence and reasons to ship Sophiana that literally no one asked for

Disclaimer: I myself am a multi-shipper, so I ship both Sophiana AND Dexiana (and sokeefe of course), but anyway here's my reasoning for Sophiana (no hate to the other ships). This is WAYYYYY overly long and my adhd brain is crying trying to proof-read it so fair warning

1. Representation in this series. Even though I know it probably won't happen with these two, I can still dream. 

2. Both Sophie and Biana are strong independent females who have been sucked (mainly unknowingly) into love triangles in the midst of whatever mess is going on with the Neverseen. 

3. In the beginning of the series, Biana seemed to hate Sophie, but after persuasion from Alden, became friends with Sophie. From there, the two of them have had a couple of rocky moments (Alden's memory break, where she didn't hate Sophie, she just wouldn't talk to her or anyone, which is less harmful of a reaction that Fitz's. Also when Stina reveals that Biana became friends with Sophie initially because of her dad) but overall have been growing into good friends. 

Now for my evidence (be forewarned there's a LOT, but still not all my evidence bc I mainly skimmed through my books I had on hand): 

Book 1: 

Fitz in the first book is shocked when Sophie says she thinks Biana hates her, stating that they're  pretty similar (first book, I don't remember the page number or exact quote). 

 Page 272, in general, when Sophie hands Biana her midterms present, and Biana asks if she's coming over for dinner. After that interaction, both Dex and Maruca (Biana's best friend at the time) are glaring at Sophie. Maruca's reaction can be explained by being best friends and feeling like she's losing Biana (though hmm....), but Dex's reaction is a bit harder to explain, thus my reasoning. Dex at this time has a major crush on Sophie, and yes he hates the Vackers, but that doesn't explain why he's mad at Sophie, unless he feels like he has competition from Biana for Sophie's affections, and is glaring to try and stop her from forgetting he's an option (oh boy my poor child). 

Also just through the rest of this book, when Sophie is having troubles or avoiding her, Biana is actually worried, and cares about her friend, not lashing out at her, just wondering if she's going to come over, and being obviously disappointed when Sophie declines her invitations. "She's right though. Red is definitely your color." 

Book 2: 

Page 567. "'Uh, I've always known that,' Dex said, sitting on her other side. 'But remember? I like weird.' 'Me too,' Biana chimed in." We know later that this statement from Dex was him literally saying that he liked Sophie, but the big thing about this is that Biana agrees immediately after. Before Fitz agrees. This could be read as just friends, but I read it otherwise. 

Book 3: Page 590. Biana is fighting Gisela on Mount Everest, in extreme conditions. Sophie looks at her and is like "Did you know Biana could fight like that?" like she's impressed, and I mean it's very impressive because she's taking down an adult in extreme conditions, but they're in the middle of a fight, and Sophie takes the time to notice and point out Biana's fighting skills. Which seems a little bit ship-y. Later on this page she is written as smiling at imagining Biana fighting Fitz and Keefe and smiling, and then screaming when Biana almost dies, along with Biana's former crush (Keefe) and her brother (Fitz). 

Page 511. Biana literally hides in Magnate Leto's office when Sophie was getting her ability restricting circlet (HIGHLY FORBIDDEN AND DANGEROUS) and watches in silent support. She breaks so many rules doing that, and then to top it off, on this page she says she doesn't "think I could've been that brave." Which is extremely sweet given the circumstances, and knowing just how much she risked going in with Sophie and yet calling Sophie the brave one, it's just very sweet. 

Book 4: 

(Oh boy I love this one there's so much fuel here.) 

 Page 9. "Dex pretended to gag, while Biana stared at Keefe's arm around Sophie." This is generally read as Biana being jealous of Sophie getting Keefe's attention, but it can also be read as Biana being jealous of Keefe being able to get that close to Sophie in that way (and that is how I am choosing to interpret it). 

I would also like to point out that Biana chooses to run away with Sophie to be with the Black Swan. She doesn't have to. She could stay in the Lost Cities and serve her minimal punishment, then get back to her life. But she chooses the dangerous option to BE WITH SOPHIE, which speaks a lot about these two and how their relationship has grown from mutual animosity to ride-or-die friendship. 

Page 31. "'But we're in costume!' Biana argued. 'Yeah, but you guys will stand out. I mean...look at you. You look like models.'" Sophie literally says Biana looks like a model (along with the boys of course, but she's including EVERYONE in her group) (plus she also comments in her head NUMEROUS times that Biana is gorgeous, or pretty, or looks like a princess, and I don't know about you but I don't go around thinking about how gorgeous all my friends look, I mean they're all amazing people but I don't go around thinking "oh wow [friend] looks like a fabulous princess with their on point makeup and effortless looking outfit." It's just a little bit indicative  that Sophie might like Biana as more than just a friend, hidden in the deep reaches of her oblivion at least). 

Also I would just like to point out that on page 38, when the group sees the statue of David, Keefe immediately reacts to it, and Sophie has no immediate gross out factor, she's just like yeah it's art and this dude is naked so what, which I find a bit telling but idk. 

Bonus: Biana finds the fact that the statue is naked a bit disgusting, and is terrified at the thought of running into it, which also seems a bit telling. 

Page 77. aka the page where Biana compliments Sophie's eyes and calls them "striking and unique." 

Page 167, 168, 169. THEY LITERALLY SLEEP IN THE SAME BED TOGETHER TO COMFORT EACH OTHER. BIANA WENT TO SOPHIE'S ROOM FIRST WHEN SHE COULDN'T SLEEP AND IS IN NEED OF COMFORT, EVEN THOUGH HER MOM IS literally within walking distance away. 

Page 168 "The soft sound of Biana's breathing made the room feel warmer"

Page 615 "...especially when she realized Biana was there too. She pulled her soggy hair forward to cover her face. 'It's cold here.' 'It is,' Biana agreed. Sophie couldn't tell if the strain in Biana's voice was exhaustion or something else." This is after Biana and Alvar interrupt Sophie and Keefe basically cuddling in the cold after almost dying. This could be interpreted as Biana being sad that Sophie seems to be choosing Keefe over her, and she's struggling to deal with that. 

*~*

After these moments, Biana kind of fades into the background, along with Dex, until around book 8 (and even then....yes I'm a bit bitter that my girl doesn't get page time), so I'm going to skip ahead. 

Book 8: 

page 135. "...next to her daughter wearing a peacock blue gown with shimmering gold beading that was almost as stunningly beautiful as she was." Reminding you of her constant appeal to Biana's appearance, and also this is after Biana has been MAJORLY scarred, yet Sophie still finds her beautiful and oh look I'm crying now (onto the next!) 

Page 256: "'You okay?' Biana asked, plopping down beside Sophie on the grass and reaching out to brush some of the fallen pinkish, purplish, bluish petals out of Sophie's hair." this kind of thing is generally reserved for Fitz or Keefe, so I was SHOCKED when I read this. She's pulling the 'brushing the person's hair out of their face' ploy and I'm so here for it. 

Also, just Biana's reactions to Sophie dating her brother are a bit odd, as if she is only reluctantly okay with them being together. 

Unlocked (8.5): 

Biana's file: page 76. "Ultimately, though, Biana and Sophie have grown to genuinely respect and admire each other, and are now well and truly friends." This is under the heading explaining that Biana has trouble making friends because of complications with her brother,  and then goes on to mainly explain Biana's friendship with Sophie, which just...points toward the slim possibility of Sophiana. 

I'm not holding out a lot of hope, because I know it's probably not going to become reality, but I do have my reasoning and a decent amount of evidence, and I still can enjoy my ship from afar as the ship wars rage on. Because with these two gals, we could: 

1. Have the possibility of a healthy relationship where neither party is afraid to tell the other something

2. both balance each other out personality-wise

3. they've also gone through some rough spots but in all have retained a steady friendship in which Sophie isn't afraid Biana will betray her or hate her for anything (unlike SOME boys (I'm sorry, I love Keefe it’s just his decisions haven’t been all that great lately)) 

So yeah, tl;dr Biana and Sophie have the possibility of being in a great relationship built on support and trust and I put way too much effort into this

(Part 1 bc I’ll have more evidence eventually)

[yandere-society]

Exorbitant

Member: Kim Seokjin

Synopsis: After being dumped by his long time girlfriend, Jin has given up on love. When his friend sets him up with a classmate, Jin thinks things have just turned in his favor. He’s in love, he’s certain. SO why is he being left on read?

Warning: Yandere themes

Headline: Stalker Sent Crush 159,000 After One Date And Threatened To Make Sushi From Kidneys 

Admin: @chimchimsauce​

The restaurant is fancy. Perhaps too fancy for a first date. There are glad chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and wall to wall fish tanks filled with all the fish to be slaughtered. The lighting is dim and people are quiet, only the sound of bubbling tanks in Seokjin’s ears.

Maybe this was a bad idea. After all, a year isn’t too long to still be hung up on someone is it? Is it?

Deep down he knows that it’s time to move on. Lana made it very clear to him that she never cared for him at all , and was only with him because he was in medical school. But Seokjin was entirely blinded. Lana was so beautiful that her coldness did not faze him, did not cause any alarm bells to go off in his head even when his friends warned him that she was no good. It caught him by complete surprise when he came home early one day and saw her in the midst of cheating, with one of her male friends she told him not to worry about. 

He’d been in tears but Lana didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. All she did was roll her eyes and pull the covers tight around her body, sending her man out the door and telling him that she’d meet him in a second while Seokjin lay on the floor sobbing.

It’s embarrassing every time he thinks about it. Seokjin was content to die alone, no longer believing in love. After many months of his moping, Seokjin’s childhood friend Jungkook convinced him to get back into the dating scene.

“Come on, hyung,” Jungkook said to him one day after knocking on his door to find Seokjin still in his pajamas, “This is getting sad.”

“I am sad, Jungkook,” Jin said, “My heart has been shattered.”

Seokjin slumped even further down in his chair. His mother would be furious if she saw his awful posture. 

“Lana isn’t worth all this. She’s already moved onto her next victim. It’s been months, hyung! Months! You are much too good looking, young, and rich to be giving up on life this soon. Why don’t you at least try dating?”

“I don’t know, Jungkook . . .” Seokjin said, hesitant.

“I know this really nice girl in one of my classes. She saw you pick me up last week and asked about you.”

“That’s nice, Jungkook, but I’m really not -”

“I kind of already gave her your number,” Jungkook interrupts, a bashful smile on his face.

“Jungkook!” Seokjin scolds.

“I’m sorry!” Jungkook says, tossing his hands in the air, “But she’s really sweet! And pretty! And you’ve been so lonely lately, it’s bringing everyone down. Just give her a shot, hyung, please. For my snake.”

Jungkook hits Seokjin with those infamous puppy dog eyes he always gets his way with. And just like always, Seokjin relents.

“Fine!” Seokjin says, “But if I don’t like her, I don’t want you to bring it up again!”

“Deal!” Jungkook says, locking his pinky around the older man’s even though they both know he’s lying.

Later that evening, after Jungkook left Seokjin’s apartment, Jin gets a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey! This is Seokjin, right? Jungkook gave me your number.

Unknown: I hope that’s okay

Unknown: I’m YN 

Jin frowned, looking at his phone. Does he really have to answer? If he ghosts her, this YN chick will probably tell Jungkook. Deciding to play along, at least for a little while, he replies.

Me: Hey!

Me: Yeah, this is Seokjin. Kookie told me he gave you my number.

Unknown: Kookie? That’s such a cute nickname haha.

Unknown: Have you guys been friends for long?

Me: Ever since we were younger. His older brother was in my grade.

And just like that, interest sparks. The two of them don’t text much for the first couple of days but soon it evolves to being on the phone for hours. They send memes back and forth and have long discussions about their favorite shows. For the first time in a long while, everything doesn’t seem quite so awful.

Seokjin snaps out of his thoughts, looking at his phone. 

Did YN stand him up? She was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. Maybe she doesn’t like sushi. Maybe she was just playing with him. Maybe this is some elaborate prank played by her and Jungkook.

Seokjin thinks he’s going to be sick. He should have known better.

“Sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice calls.

Seokjin looks up and is faced with one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. Even though her hair and outfit look a little untidy, she’s absolutely gorgeous.

“I wasn’t waiting long,” Seokjin mutters, lying.

He’s captivated. He’s seen her picture several times but it’s another thing altogether to see her in person.

“Really?” YN asks, sliding into the booth across from him, “I’m glad! The bus broke down on the way here and I didn’t have any signal so I couldn’t tell you. I was worried that you thought I’d ditched you.”

“Oh, no,” Seokjin says, shaking his head, “I figured you were just a little behind.”

He laughs nervously. He hadn’t really expected things to go so far. He’s actually on a date.

“I’m glad!” YN says, straightening herself out a bit, “I’d never leave you hanging like that.”

Jin smiles.

“So,” YN says, grabbing the menu, “Have you been here before? Any recommendations?”

“This is the first time I’ve been here too,” Jin admits.

“Let’s get something different and then share,” YN suggests.

“That sounds good.”

As they look through and make their decisions, Jin can’t help but stare at her. He’s really pretty, from her face to the clothes she wears. She’s so opposite of Lana. Where Lana was stiff, YN looks relaxed and easy going.

“Is everything okay?” YN asks him, placing her menu down on the table.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jin says, “You’re just so pretty.”

YN blushes, a shy smile on her face.

“Thank you. You’re really handsome, Jin.”

His ego is now boosted. For the longest time, Jin wondered if maybe Lana dumped him because she wasn’t attracted to him. Maybe she left because he was ugly.

He can tell that YN isn’t lying. She’s so bright and honest.

“Did you decide what you wanted?” he asks her, not wanting to stare at her again and possibly make her uncomfortable.

“I’m getting the Tiger Roll,” YN says.

“I’ll get the Dynamite Roll,” Jin says a few moments later.

With their order placed, conversation flows naturally. YN talks about her family and her childhood and listens intently when Jin talks about his. In just this one date, Jin has learned so much more about YN then he ever did Lana.

And the sushi is delicious. It’s the best thing he’s ever eaten, even. Or maybe it’s just her.

When the plates have been cleaned and the bill has been presented, Jin offers to pick it up.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind splitting it,” YN says.

“Absolutely. I’d love to,” Jin says, trying his hardest to be gentlemanly.

YN smiles at him and he swears his heart stops.

“I really appreciate it,” YN says, standing up and brushing off her outfit, “This was fun.”

“Would you like to eat out again next week?” he asks her.

“I’ll have to see what my schedule looks like,” YN says.

The two of them make their way to the exit. Jin holds the door open for her.

“Make sure you let me know!” Jin says, hoping she doesn’t sound too eager.

“I will,” she says.

The moment is a little awkward. Jin wants to lean in to kiss her but she takes a small step backward, putting some distance between them. 

Jin isn’t bothered. Maybe YN isn’t a kiss on the first date type of girl. Now that he thinks about it, that makes him like her even more.

The two walk down the sidewalk in front of the restaurant for a bit. It’s gotten much darker now than it was when Jin first arrived.

Jin pauses when YN stops in front of the bus stop sign.

“Would you like me to drive you? It’s gotten late.”

“I’ll be okay,” YN says, “But thank you, though.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

YN thinks for a moment, looking at him before glancing at her watch.

“I’d really appreciate  it -”

YN doesn’t even get to finish before Jin grapes her hand in his and strides towards the nearby parking lot, unlocking his fancy car and opening the door for YN. Jin doesn’t notice the slightly uncomfortable look on YN’s face, much too excited.

Today has been so much better than he could have ever hoped.

“Which way to your place?”

YN quietly gives him instructions to her dorm.

Honestly, she just wants this night to be over. When she asked Jungkook about Jin, she did it as a conversation starter, hoping to find more info about Jungkook. He’s so cute and she wanted to try and shoot her shot with him but their conversation went haywire and before she knew it, Jungkook was setting her up with his “lonely and desperate but I swear he’s attractive” friend. Trying to make the best out of the situation, she decided to talk to Jin. He’s fun to text and to chat with but she just doesn’t feel any chemistry with him.

“We’re here,” Jin says a few minutes later.

YN gets out of the car before Jin can rush to open it for her.

“Thanks a lot,” YN says, turning away from him.

She walks into the building swiftly, unaware of the gaze on her back.

Back at his apartment, Jin texts Jungkook.

Me: She’s a dream

Me: an absolute angel

Me: I think she’s the one

Kookie: the date went that well, huh? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Me: Not like that. She’s just really sweet

Kookie: I’m happy for you! I hope things work out well for the two of you!

Me: I think they will

Jin flops on his bed, sighing like a schoolgirl. It’s only been one date but he knows she’s going to be the one for him.

Opening up a different conversation, Jin clicks on the second newest one, taking a moment to change the name.

Me: I think I’m going to marry you one day

Across the city, YN’s stomach drops when she reads the text. She doesn’t know what to say to him. How do you tell someone that you’re just not into them?

Deciding to deal with it later, YN turns off her phone and heads to the bathroom. That sushi is not agreeing with her.

For the next couple of days, YN and Jin text back and forth, but it doesn’t have the same energy as it used to. Instead of replying instantly and really moving the conversation forward, YN gives short responses and takes forever to respond.

Two weeks later, she stops responding at all.

Worried that something may have happened to his love, Jin amps up his texting and calling, hoping to get through to her. He sends her a new text every hour, and then every half hour, and then every fifteen minutes until he’s texting her over a thousand times a day. At this point Jin is worried that she’s hurt.

But according to Jungkook, she’s just fine.

Me: Are you sure, Kookie?

Kookie: I just think she’s not into you Jin

Kookie: I’m sorry. I would have never set you two up if I thought it would go like this.

Jin sits on his bed, his mind swimming. Not into him? She couldn’t be! Not YN! Not after the magical time they’d had together?

Kookie: Don’t give up, I’m sure that you’ll find someone

Jin, sick to his stomach, dials YN’s phone again.

She answers.

“YN -”

“STOP CALLING ME! I DON’T LIKE YOU! I DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU!”

The last straw. His back is finally broken, he’s caving into himself.

“Darling,” he says after a moment.

YN quiets down. She had half expected for him to have hung up.

“Let’s go out to eat again, shall we? I’d hate to make sushi out of you.”

[dreamii-yume]

Hi! I'm loving your fics. Could we get some malleus x reader please? Maybe some breeding and size kink?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Malleus had already decided that Darling is the woman that he wanted to spend his whole entire life with. Huh? What do you mean that Darling has to go back home? That she’s not from this world? That she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings? Now, don’t be like that~! Don’t you think it’s lovely~? A life with one of the strongest magician in this twisted world would surely be a lot better than your previous one!

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

You sat on a lone bench in the peaceful land outside the Ramshackle Dorm, the gentle howl of the nightly breeze blowing on your hair so elegantly. Green fireflies decorated where you sat, their beautiful light was enough to illuminate what the old lamp post couldn’t. Before you were a tall young fae with pointed ears and a pair of menacing horns on his head. You almost strained your neck from looking up just to have an eye contact with him. His very appearance and size was intimidating, yet the rare gentle smile on his face holds a complete contrast to it all.

The moon was beautiful tonight, bearing witness to how your eyes had slowly widened at the information you have received from the horned fellow. “...Eh?” You blinked repeatedly, your ears somewhat refusing to acknowledge the meaning behind his words. “...Sorry, could you repeat what you just said?”

“I love you.” The fae patiently repeated his confession for you, word by word. His tone felt so practiced, like he had been waiting his whole life just to say it. “I want to spend my whole life with you and create a happy little family between us.”

Your mouth fell agape as you looked down, and to the side, before eventually going back to him. You fiddled with your sleepwear of a clothing, finding the right words to say. “...W-Wow...This is...This is a lot to take in, I...” You stuttered out as your cheeks burns in the shade of a bashful pink. “...Tsunotarou, I-I don’t know what to say really...”

‘Tsunotarou’ merely chuckled at your reaction, watching you chew on your bottom lip. A habit that he noticed you do whenever you’re nervous or in the midst of indecisiveness. He reached out and pat you on the head, stroking your hair in a comforting manner. “Don’t stress yourself too much, my little human. I can put our differences aside and love you for who you are from now on and forever.” He said, his eyes gazing at you lovingly. You felt the side of your mouth twitched upward, creating a small smile at how sweet his words were.

“...In return, I want you to be my wife and create a family with me. To spend our eternity caring for our young.” ‘Tsunotarou’ said, something that slowly wiped your smile away. You looked down once again, a sullen expression had replaced itself on your face. Of course, the horned fae had already spent too much time with you to notice the slightest bit of change in your mood, this was no exception. “...Why the long face, little one?”

You took a deep breath. “I-I’m flattered, Tsunotarou. Really, I am.” You said, smiling up at him. “You were the very first to confess to me like this. It’s very sweet and I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“But...I’m sorry. I can’t accept your confession.” You gave him a serious look on your face. A single drop of sweat ran down the side of your head but you kept up your mask. It took a while for ‘Tsunotarou’ to give you some sort of reaction and even then, the most that you got was a slight flinch of the hand that was on top of your head. He no longer has a smile in his face, going back to his usual, stoic expression as he retracted his hand away from you.

“Explain.” He requested, but sounded more of a demand rather than an optional choice. You flinched at how stern his voice had suddenly turned, no trace of his sweet demeanor had remained.

“Were you...Were you in the entrance ceremony at the first day?” You asked him. “If you were there then, everything must’ve make sense to you by now.”

“I was not invited. I tend to never get invited into occasions such as that.” ‘Tsunotarou’ said, bitterly as he crossed his arms. You nodded, somehow you couldn’t help but feel really bad for the tall fae. “...What does that have to do with your rejection?”

“Then you must’ve at least known by now that I don’t have the tiniest shred of magic in me, right?” You said, trying to go slow for him so he could understand you properly. “The only reason I’m a student here in the first place is because I have Grimm with me.”

“...I do.” He said. “If this is the reason why you’re rejecting me, then know that I have no problems with having a child that has no affinity for magic. We can always-“

You quickly hold out your hand in front of you, frantically shaking your head, stopping him the moment he mentioned anything about having children. Your face flushed red, he was looking way into the future. “No, no, no...! That’s not the reason at all!” You protested. “It’s because I’m not from here, Tsunotarou!”

Now this caught ‘Tsunotarou’ off-guard, not expecting such reason to come out of your mouth. But then, with that sentence alone, he had already formulated a lot of solutions in his mind that could excuse such reason. “Not from here? You meant from Twisted Wonderland?” He said, raising his eyebrow. “Then, which part of the world did you come from? Surely, we can do something about your lineage.”

“...That’s the thing. I’m not from this world, Tsunotarou.” Your head held down, but your eyes glanced up at him with gloomy gaze. “I don’t have magic because I came from a different world. A world far different from Twisted Wonderland.”

“And I’m trying to go back.” You finished, finally stating your point. “Therefore, I can’t accept your confession. Because if I were come back to my own world, long-lasting romantic relationship with anyone in Twisted Wonderland is just pointless.”

You settled down, breathing out as ‘Tsunotarou’ in front of you stares with calculating eyes. He was always the difficult one to read, it was either he has great control over his emotions or he simply just doesn’t know how to react. Either way, you prayed in your mind that he wouldn’t become as unreasonable as you dreaded. Finally, he made a reaction, blinking as he straightened his poise. “...Is that it?” He spoke. “Is that your only reason why you’re rejecting me?”

You nodded with an audible “Yes”. Well, you were actually telling him about the other side of the spectrum, there was also the reason of you just not seeing him the same way as he sees you. What you feel for him was merely platonic as there weren’t enough time for you to gain actual romantic feelings for him. He was just a friend that you see every once in a while, after all, an acquaintance you happened to meet when the moon was out on its best. But you chose not to tell him that other reason as it would only add more salt to his wound. For now, you can give him the more logical reason, something anyone could understand.

Your horned friend closed his eyes before breathing out, he crosses his arms. “Then, just don’t.”

Now, it was your turn to be caught off guard. You blinked, repeatedly. “...Excuse me?” You asked, wanting to have a bit more content.

“Coming back to your own world is a choice, not an obligation. You don’t have to go back.” ‘Tsunotarou’ said in a straightforward manner, as if your problem was actually that easy to pull off. “If you were transported in this world then, wouldn’t that mean that there’s actually something you have to do in this world? Or the fact that this world might’ve actually been the world that you were supposed to belong to in the first place?”

“Either way, it doesn’t matter. All you have to do is stay and not worry about going home.” ‘Tsunotarou’ steps closer to your sitting figure. His tall and large figure quietly looms above you, causing a single nervous strand of sweat to drip from your forehead. His shadow alone was intimidating and his striking green eyes never dares to leave you, as if it was burning a hole into your soul. “We can be together without any worries if you could just forget about your previous life and start a new one.”

“Doesn’t that sound even more appealing?”

You stared at him wide-eyed, filled with bewilderment as you don’t even know how you were going to retort that. There was so many flaws and holes in that reasoning that you would like to point out, but just can’t find a proper way to start. In the end, you gave him a nervous laugh, trying to lighten up the atmosphere before eventually dropping the bomb on him. “Uh...T-That’s...That’s not...That’s not how it works, Tsunotarou.” You stuttered, your mind in shambles on how the hell you were going to explain this to the usually aloof and dense fae. “You’re essentially telling me to forget about my friends and family back in my world. You know I can’t do that!”

“They’re...They’re important to me. There’s no way I could...forget about them just like that!” You said. “I didn’t even get the chance to properly say goodbye before getting transported into this world! They’re probably looking for me right now!”

In the midst of your desperate attempt to knock some sense into powerful yet dense magician, you failed to notice how his eyes narrowed down for a mere second. A rare sign of irritation spiking up in his features. “...And you think they’re still looking for you after all this time?” ‘Tsunotarou’ coldly states. “You arrived at this world during the entrance ceremony, correct? It’s been quite a while since that happened. Have you ever considered that they might’ve just given up on you by now?”

Now that was uncalled for, just absolutely unnecessary to say. You scrunched up your eyebrows together as you couldn’t help but be hurt at how insensitive his words suddenly became. What was his problem? He’s making it sound like no one cared for you in your own world. That you’re someone who your friends and family wouldn’t mind losing, a mere waste of space.

But still, you breathe out an exasperated sigh, bottling up your true emotion as you decided to become the mature one in this argument. You looked up with him with an assertive look in your eye, silently telling ‘Tsunotarou’ to not pressure you with nonsensical reasoning any longer. “...Look, I know you’re making it sound that easy but Tsunotarou...It’s really not.” You said, calming yourself down before standing up. “I don’t want this to become a big deal. You’re a friend, after all and I don’t like fighting with my friends for something so trivial.”

You dusted off invisible dust in your clothes and gave him your usual smile. “I’m ending this conversation, alright? This is for the sake of both you and I.” You said as your friend merely stared at you. “...Maybe you don’t understand right now. So, I’ll give you some time to do so. You weren’t in the ceremony as a witness, after all.”

“I’ll go back in my dorm now, Grimm probably fell of the bed again.” You giggled at the image in your head as you looked back at him with a gentle smile. You didn’t even know how that smile was the exact reason why your ‘Tsunotarou’ fell for you this hard. The exact reason why you didn’t notice how his eyes darken at your figure, his fist slowly clenching tight. “Goodnight, Tsunotarou...I...appreciate your feelings...”

Your voice suddenly slurred, an overwhelming feeling of wanting to sleep had suddenly wrapped itself around your very being. You suddenly felt like your balance was being stripped away from you, causing you to stumble a bit. “...B-but...I hope we can still...be friends...?” You ended up finishing your sentence with a question. It was unintentional and you didn’t know why. You looked up at ‘Tsunotarou’ who didn’t seem to be too bothered at your current behavior.

Your sight was beginning to blur, the horned fae in front of you was barely visible. Had his eyes always been glowing like that? There were dark spots in the corner of your eyes and your eyelids felt really heavy all of a sudden. “...Huh?” Came in your final word.

Finally, your eyes fall into a close as your body collapsed but luckily, ‘Tsunotarou’ was already there, ready to catch you. He ceased the green light emitting from both his eyes and his magical pen once he was sure you were deep in a slumber. He felt your body moving in synch with your breathing, his magic had done its job well this time again. Even in secrecy.

‘Tsunotarou’ carried your body in a bridal style manner, embracing your warmth against his chest.

“...No, my little human. You are the one who doesn’t understand.”

With that, the green fireflies that made the place brim with beauty disappeared as if they weren’t even there in the first place. Along with the all-mighty fae, lovingly caressing a fair, human being in his arms.

The moon was indeed very beautiful tonight. Illuminating upon the sacred place where love had reached a new level of commitment.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

WELP I currently have a lot of pending request! I’m gonna be closing off the request box for now, okay~?

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Peter Parker - SFW Alphabet

Masterlist

This is for MCU Peter (cuz some of the answers would be different if they were for others lol)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Peter loves affection, but he's got to work through all his nerves first. Just the idea of touching you sometimes is enough to make him start blushing and hiding into himself. But once he finally works through it, affection is always. He likes to receive it, but he LOVES to give it. He basically has all the love languages, but his major two are words of affirmation and physical touch.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Peter Parker is a good best friend...when he's there. He pays attention to all the little things and he always does right when it really counts. He'll geek out with you, help you no matter what, and try his best to make you happy no matter what. However if you don't know about him being Spiderman, it can be a real stress on the friendship, because he'll always seem distant. Once you know, it will be like everything falls into place. You finally understand why he does the things he does. Overall though, he's a stellar friend.

You'd probably become his friend because you sat next to each other in class, or you were already at the Avengers compound, and for whatever reason, the two of you immediately clicked.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

PETER LOVES CUDDLES. And when Peter wants to cuddle, he wants to CUDDLE. He wants to squeeze you and never ever let go. Ngl he'll probably fall asleep while cuddling you because when he's cuddling he's in PEAK zen mode. It's probably the most relaxed that he can be.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yeah he definitely wants to settle down, but he's scared to. It's not that he has commitment issues, it's just that he's so afraid and aware of the dangers of being with him. But if given the chance, he'd probably settle.

He's not completely terrible at cooking, May has definitely taught him a few things. But he's no chef. Let's be real he's probably had a bunch of moments of forgetting that something was in the oven. There will be lots of disasters. When it comes to cleaning, if pressed, he will clean. But don't be surprised when every room in the house is messed up again because of things that he'll "come back for later" that he never comes back for.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh he'd hate every bit of it, he'd dread over it for days and days. If Peter were to break it off, he'd do it face to face. He'd feel so bad about it, and if you start to cry he actually might comfort you in the midst of breaking up with you.

Best outcome, it was mutual and you guys end like friends. Worst outcome, he gets cold feet and actually just leaves you a note.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He's surprisingly cool about commitment, given the dangers of his life. Of course, he's hesitant, but when this dude falls, he falls HARD. So hard to where he'll commit and not think twice about it.

He'd wanna get married whenever it hits him I guess. Not right away, but it's not like he'd have you waiting forever.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically- As gentle as the average teenage boy I suppose lol. Well a little bonus because of how anxious he is of hurting you. 5/10

Emotionally- Peter's more anxious boi than soft crybaby. He wouldn't need comfort on everything 24/7, because he can actually handle way more than people give him credit for, but it's when he's going through something really personal or really traumatic when he needs that reassurance that everything will be alright. 6/10

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Peter doesn't mind hugs, but he's gotta be in the mood for one to really enjoy it, otherwise he's just going through the motions with it. Like if he's in the mood his brain is "oh my gosh you're hugging me this is beautiful you've graced me with your touch you wonderful specimen" but if he's not it's just like "oh... this is unexpected." I don't think he's super into hugs because I kind of like the headcanon that he's a bit of a germaphobe but I don't think he's super against them either. He's more in the middle where if it hits him, it hits him and if it doesn't, he doesn't want them.

He gets in the mood to hug like 20 times a day. You'll be beside him doing work and like out of nowhere. BOOM. Hugged. And then he just goes back to doing whatever he's doing except now he's blushing really hard while doing it.

Peter's hugs are really soft and quick (unless he's cuddling you, then it's really long). He just wants to feel your presence until he's satisfied. He's always really warm so that's a major plus.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not right away. It'll be whenever it feels right. And I picture the first l-word drop going one of three ways:

1) Quirky - you guys will be chilling/making out/watching a movie and he'll find himself feeling really sentimental and emotional for no reason and he'll just turn and be like, "hey, I love you". And it sort of catches you off-guard and he sees your expression (whatever it may be) and he immediately starts blushing and stammering and he's like "I-i mean- no I don't!..I-i mean I do!... but like- not unless you want me too! I-in fact I'll hate you if you want me-" and you have to cut him off with a kiss before he gets too wound up and you softly smile back like "I love you too, weirdo."

2) Sweet - he's thought about this for a long time (and even maybe told May and Ned about it) and he really wants to tell you but he doesn't know how and you notice that's he's been weird around you and always looks like he has something else on his mind (like more than usual) and you're getting pretty worried and after awhile you can't take it anymore and you confront him about it probably at the lunch table or in the hallways after school or at his apartment (is there some mission you don't know about? Is he breaking up with you? Is he okay?) and he's stuttering alot and he finally has to pause and compose himself before pulling you aside and softly telling you how we feels.

3) Angsty - after a particularly intense night at patrol (definitely with a casualty) he's perched on the top of a building, staring out at New York, feeling like the biggest failure alive. He's run down with guilt and the tears just won't stop. Hands shaking, he dials your number and you pick up and immediately start asking if he's okay once you hear his trembling voice. "I messed up," he mumbles before he breaks down and sobs out the entire story to you. You try your best to comfort him as best you can through the phone, trying to tell him (with no avail) that it's not his fault and that he can't save everyone. It takes a while, but he finally calms down enough to clearly take a swing, but not before he says, "look..I want you to know that I love you... and I'll do everything I can to always protect you...I promise you that...I can't lose you," he sobs. Given the situation, neither one of you really registers that this is his first time saying it, but it makes it a dozen times easier to start saying it more often from now on.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Peter's jealousy is probably the average amount for a guy. He doesn't do much with it though. He'll just get really quiet and maybe freak out to Ned about it later. Very subtle looks and jaw clenches but other than that, he's fine. Unless you're really attentive, you probably wouldn't notice.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

When he first started getting into the hang of first dates and stuff, his kisses were pretty fast and more like little pecks on the lips and stuff because he was always so nervous about messing up. But now that's he's gotten the hang of it, Peter's kisses (when he's not in a rush) are usually slow and sensual. He wants to do nothing but focus on you in that moment.

Well mostly on the lips of course. He'll lay his head on your shoulder alot when he's bored so every now and then when he's doing that he'll turn his head and give you a little kiss on your shoulder. If he's whispering in your ear in lunch he'll give a kiss on the cheek. Really though, once he gets the all his jitters out about it, he'll kiss you anywhere.

Peter probably likes to be kissed on the cheek and on the lips more than anywhere else

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Peter is amazing with kids. He'll always find a way to get along with them, and they usually warm up to his easy-going nature. He's a bit of a pushover when it comes to really nice kids so they usually love him because he'll give them anything. I'm not really one of talking about having kids, but he'd be a great father in the future. (But we're not in any rush for him to do that okay😂🤭)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are spent, well first of all waking up (obviously), cuddling, finishing whatever movie you were watching the night before, Peter probably rambling a bunch about whatever he finds himself wondering about, playing video games, and basically just relaxing before May tells you it's time for school.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent goofing around with Peter and Ned at Peter's home or chilling with Peter which can literally be doing just about anything (making out, relaxing, deep talks, watching movies, doing homework, etc.). You can do practically anything with this guy.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Peter isn't the best about opening up, not because he wants to hide things, but because he isn't on the same wavelength as everyone else when it comes to "important" things to share. Like out of nowhere he'll find himself telling you something and you'll be like "woah I wish I you would've told me that earlier" and he'll just shrug and be like "oh I didn't know that was really important enough to tell". He doesn't tell anything slower or faster it's more like whenever it's on his mind or convenient for him to tell.

But for the most part, if you're important enough for you to know he's spiderman secret, he'll tell you pretty much anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not easily angered at all. If anything he's more easily confused then angered. Like if you were trying to make him angry, he'd be more "why are you doing this🥺🤨?!" than "why are you doing this😡?!"

He'd only get angry easily if he'd been going through alot and a bunch of things have been building up, other than that, normally he's a pretty chill guy when it comes to losing his temper.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Oh he remembers practically everything you tell him. Even crap that you've probably forgotten about yourself, he knows. He notices every tiny thing, though he forgets the big stuff sometimes.

Ex: one day May asks him what he wants her to buy at the supermarket for breakfast and he says poptarts because he remembers that you like poptarts from that one time you briefly mentioned how much you liked them and he gets the kind that you like even though he doesn't really like it so that on the days you come over to his house you'll have something to eat...but like legit that same day he forgets that it's your anniversary😬

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He has many favorite moments, one of them being your first date. He was so nervous, and he showed up late, and he'd regretted letting May choose his outfit, and he hated himself for not choosing the restaurant because it'd show that he wasn't assertive enough, and he was pretty sure he stepped in dog crap while he was running to the restaurant and he just knew that he was the worst date ever until finally he got there and you were totally just fine about it. You told him to relax and that everything was fine and you were just glad to have him there, which in turn made him relax. He looked into your eyes and knew there was absolutely nothing to worry about and he had an amazing time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's protective, but not suffocating. Like if he sees something happening to you from afar, he's not gonna step in unless you make it clear that you want him to. For the most part, he'll let you handle things yourself.

Peter's more like a "protect you from the unknown" kind of guy. He's gonna protect you from threats that you don't know are there, and that are probably much bigger than the two of you. Things like death or heartbreak. He'll probably break up with you to "protect" you, which, let's be honest, is complete stupid, albeit noble. Overall, he'll do anything in his power to keep you happy.

Peter doesn't really need protection more so... comfort. He knows the world he lives in. He can defend himself and all that, but at the end of the day, he just wants someone to tell him that everything's gonna be okay🥺

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

With Peter it's either extremely last minute but a little thoughtful (because he probably forgot) or extremely thought through with unbelievable effort. No in between. Truly a go big or go home type deal. Like for your birthday he's either getting you something he's researched on for months that he knew you'd love or you're getting a card that he bought from a Walmart on the way to school with a sloppily written love letter inside that he came up with off the top of his head. At the end of the day it's the thought that counts when it comes to Peter.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He thinks literally everything is his fault🙄. If something bad happens, and he feels that he could've done even the slightest thing to change it, he's gonna beat himself up about it no matter what what you try to say.

Also he's a really busy guy. So if you're one of those girls that needs to be kept or need your boyfriend there all hours of the day, Peter's probably not for you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not too concerned. Like of course he wants to look good or cool or whatever, but he's also learned to be pretty comfortable with himself (at least as far as looks go). He gets pretty insecure sometimes but for the most part he's okay with his looks. He'll totally do himself up if he's trying to impress someone though.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Depends on how close you've become. If he only liked you, he'll be okay. If he loved you, yeah, he'll feel incomplete without you. But only if you break up or if you're hurt or lost or something. If the two of you just haven't seen each other for a while he'll be fine. He's not that sentimental.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Peter has a skirt kink. Skirts. They make him weak. He found this out about himself when he started dating Gwen Stacy. He will practically break his neck to see you in a skirt.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who has extremely poor hygiene. Peter's not the best at hygiene. He's definitely skipped brushing his teeth from time to time, but someone who's a complete slob? It'll just make him feel bad for you. It's a turn off for him. You won't get his affection but you will get his pity.

Someone obnoxious or aggressive. Peter, although anxious, is overall a pretty chill guy. If someone was just on 100 every time he saw them, ngl they'd probably weird him out. Like of course he wants someone with their own personality, but he wants someone with a level of coolness and obnoxious and aggressive people just aren't cool.

Z = Zzz (What are some sleep habits of theirs?)

Peter wants to hold something when he sleeps. When he was little, he used to sleep with a stuffed animal, and once he got older he broke out of it. But when he slept with you for the first time (sexually/nonsexually, doesn't matter) all that came rushing back. He'll hold you tightly in his sleep and won't let go unless you make him.

Hope you liked it!!😁😁😁

Tagging mutuals: @allegra-writes, @angelsparkers, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @underoosjae, @chaoticpete, @spidey-reids-2003, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky

[yezielmoore]

Day 12: Extra Credit.

Wait, what it that noise? Oh look, it's canon falling off the rails, whoops!

Kaito's extra bits of the Echo is fantasy synesthesia, with a dash of empathy. When someone talks or makes noise he sees that as colors that best represent their soul. Much less intense is the flavors he tastes that he asociates with each person he meets and change sligthly with strong feelings.

~.~.~

Prompt: Adversary.

n. one that contends with, opposes, or resists: an enemy or opponent.

He isn’t sure what he's seeing and tasting at first, in those first weeks after being dropped off in Limsa Lominsa by Hana, who was deep blue and pink with bursts of yellow and whose words tasted like that green tea from her homeland. He still remembers the bitter tang her parting words left in his tongue, the same he tasted each and every time she checked on him while pretending she was doing other, more important, things and he was a pit-stop.

Hana had been terribly confusing.

It takes him a while to figure out the basics beyond see and taste words and sounds. He realizes that people are palettes and no two persons have the same color combination or hue, it is as good as having a personal ID on everyone he meets. He doesn't figure out the taste for the longest time, not until Ifrit, when those tempered went… wrong. Their colors smothered under the same hue as the primal and all their individual flavors taking on the same sweet/rotten tang. It had been incredibly disturbing and disconcerting at the time, but be had put together a theory afterwards.

Even so, he hadn't realized this strange ability of his was anything to write home about. So he can see sounds, what of it? It's not very useful, now is it? In identifying those tempered, sure, but unless someone pulls a switcheroo, why would it matter?

'Why indeed', he thinks wryly as he enters the Solar in the Walking Sands and stops dead in his tracks, eyes immediately zeroing on the anomaly in their midst.

“My friend, welcome…” Minfilia greets him with her customary warm smile, which falters when she sees his expression. “Is aught amiss?”

“Yes, yes there is,” Kaito says calmly, far more calm than he feels. He prowls forwards, eyes fixed unerringly on Thancred, who raises an eyebrow in a wordless question. “Let’s start easy with the easy question. Who the fuck are you?”

Around this strange stand-off the other scions, already worried at his uncharacteristically hostile actions, all tense in alarm. They are uncertain and he can't really blame them. Fond of him as they are, Thancred has been one of them for much, much longer. However, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to him, they trust him a lot more than he would have dared believe, newcomer that he is. It’s for this reason that they don’t immediately jump on him, choosing instead a watch and see approach.

For his part, Thancred's eyes widen at the accusation, the shock in his expression completely genuine. He has caught the interloper by surprise it seems, but instead of the worry and alarm that Kaito would expect Thancred to betray in the face of an accusation such as this, all he sees behind the façade is an icy cold and shrewd intelligence that is now entirely focused on him. He can practically feel those eyes dissecting him and rapidly reassessing the situation. It’s unnerving on the extreme.

Not that the real Thancred isn’t smart and sharp as a tack, he's definitely one of the smartest people Kaito knows, and he can be ruthless, certainly, but Thancred isn’t cold like this. If the minute shuffling and the taste of stale dark chocolate on his tongue is anything to go by, then Y'shtola has also noticed the discrepancy.

“Now, why would you think that?” ‘Thancred’ asks with a worried air about him and a shake of his head. “Did you perchance have some peculiar encounter on your travels? I wouldn’t put it past our robed foes to concoct something while you were on your own.”

The words confirm it. Like will-o'-wisps, they paint the air around 'Thancred' with colors… a fiery red crossed with bright orange and stabbed everywhere with a deep virulent purple. It is utterly unlike the warm pink, orange and soft yellow threaded with cool blue that Kaito has come to associate with Thancred, either a sunrise or a sunset, constant all the same. Everything about the stranger's colors is more, somehow, deeper and richer. Saturated to the point of provoking a headache.

As the wisps fade away, they leave behind a strong aftertaste of burnt sugar. Kaito clicks his tongue, as if that would serve to dislodge the sensation.

This… ability or whatever, it isn’t something Kaito has thought too deeply about, not when other matters had been so pressing at the time. He should have given the matter more consideration. At the very least he should have given his allies a heads up, because he probably is coming off as addled if not deranged to everyone minus the imposter who is probably laughing at him.

"Aye, but unlike Thancred I was never on my own, was I? I was surrounded by people all the time and then I hitched a ride with the aetherytes in between. Unless you're suggesting our foes can pluck people from the aether currents, then I don’t see how I could've had a tête-à-tête with them." He glares at the other man who has the gall to look disturbed. Everyone else is still on edge and Kaito knows, knows, they’ll run out of patience soon. He can only hope the intruder is as short-sighted as the other robed fool they met. "The difference is like day and night; you look nothing like Thancred."

Finally, for some reason, it is this what makes the stranger drop the charade. His alert but not-quite-tense posture changes and the bewildered air around him immediately morphs into one of utter menace. It's like seeing a housecat shed its skin and turn into a chimera while sitting on your lap.

The scions, who had remained guarded but made no move for or against the proceedings, immediately ready their weapons, the sounds exploding in a rainbow of colors that is strangely calming in their familiarity. It's Urianger, ever watchful and cautious Urianger, that gently tugs a shocked and vulnerable Minfilia closer to him, a topaz carbuncle bursting into existence in front of them both at his silent command.

Kaito's axe, always close at hand, is now drawn and pointed at the enemy wearing a friend's face.

“Well, well, well, color me impressed.” This time the wisps don’t just float around, they practically lash out, glowing so violently that for a moment Kaito is afraid they will gain tangibility and wreck everything. He gags as the taste of burnt sugar turns into sweet charcoal. “That one of you broken creatures could have such an unusual Echo in this pitiful age. Hydaelyn’s chosen, no less!” With liquid grace, not-Thancred stalks closer until his chest is touching Kaito’s axe, seemingly unconcerned about the threat. “Tell me, adventurer, do you really think you can stop me?”

Kaito grits his teeth against the sensory overload and the headache that pounds away inside his skull, a retort full of bravado already on his tongue. Before he can answer, however, a fireball whizzes past his ear, forcing not-Thancred to retreat.

“It’s not just him you have to contend with, fiend,” Papalimo warns, coffee cookies washing away the rage and death that choked him before. Aether gathers and swirls around the thaumaturge as he prepares another spell. A spell that never comes as Yda takes the opening her partner gave her and uses it to land an impressive combo full of punches and kicks that would have broken bones on any normal man.

Unfortunately, whoever this impostor is, normal he is not.

Disappearing and then reappearing closer to the door, he looks at each of the scions until his gaze zeroes once more on Kaito.

“So it seems,” he acknowledges with a bored air that is simply galling and has all of them bristling without meaning to. “Enjoy your futile resistance while you can then.”

“Wait!” Minfilia cries out from behind the protection the combatants provided. She’s pale and her knuckles are white from clutching the edge of her desk. “Is Thancred… What did you do to him?!”

Not-Thancred smirks. It’s an expression that has always been at home in Thancred’s face, fond and mischievous and always a bit flirty, but right now is full of malice. “Who knows.”

And then he is gone.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 20.1)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

DOUBLE UPDATE FOR A WEEK Y’ALL! MWAH MWAH! PLEASE DO LEAVE A FEEDBACK BEFORE YOU GO---OR MAYBE A REBLOG WILL BE NICE FOR MY EFFORT. Hehehe. Thank y’all!

CHAPTER 20

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Sometimes other people's stories were actually not just a tale of fantasies when the protagonist in the story can't even give you an answer to soothe your insecurity, curiosity and fear over being alone in a dimension you didn't belong in.

Warnings: Soft, touchy and caring Geralt. Insecure and anxious reader. Brooding witcher. Baths with the witcher? Mention of Yennefer. Nudity. Angst. Geralt being too blunt and saying...things. Heh. Don't hate him later please? 😥😘 Mention of Parallel Universe. Doppelganger. Ingrith is just a character I made up, alright? she ain't a part of Yennefer's story in the games, books or show. 

Words: 7.6k

A/N: So, Yeap. I wanted to leave ya with all these angst. Hehehe. COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! MWAH! *waits for comments about people cursing Geralt lmao 😂😂* @casualfansoul​​ You’ve been such a sweetheart! BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETIE! I hope you’ll love this chapter dedicated to you! Mwah! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Will you tell me why you are utterly cranky all of a sudden?"

Face to face with the rim of the wooden bath, you've had your knotted brows in a twist. Pout oh-so-long that Geralt knew as he sat behind you, seeking answers for your upset state. He'd gotten you out of your clothes; forcefully must you say. Earning a glare from him as he was peeling your clothes away like he was caring for his sick, pouty child.

No complaints were accepted as he'd given you the idea to care for your wounds in the tub. Downright secretive about wanting to feel the comfort of your nudity grazing against his without any monkey business going on.

The witcher has received constant grumbles and whines of protests as he poured the potent medicine that evaporated through the fresh wounds; painful enough for you to shriek while his arm surrounding your waist tightened with every whimper of your sobbing self; shushing your cries with a soft coo of his endearment on your ear and the feathery nuzzle of his nose against that tiny spot behind your ear while he soothes your pains.

They've fully had injured your back with more than just wallops. He'd knew by the looks of the lesions, the people in the castle has even burnt your skin with metal; scorching metal that has given you scars that would forever haunt oneself. The mere thought tormenting him by their brutal punishments; keeping him all in wonder when he has never received any violent retorts and schemes from you as they did everything in their willpower to strike a hand. Your submission making the witcher glower behind as Geralt caught sight of such deep wounds whilst taking off the gauze; seeing blood seeping out of the healing skin as it was a sign that he really and badly needed to treat your body.

Sobs were emitted while he watched your wounds dry from the potion he'd mix, receiving kisses on the cold, sweating nape of yours every now and then. A gesture that Geralt started doing when you were shrieking in the midst of being poured by such elixir while you felt his breath on your skin. Sweetly kissing through your pain and lowly humming that you were going to be okay and you've been good.

It felt like all the energy downed on you after he'd stop and was done pouring the elixir everywhere around your body. The warm water lining on your chest turned colder when you've slowly leaned your back on Geralt, hissing from the soreness but actually ending up loving the warmth that he could only give while he kept his burly arm around you, your lips still in a pout while staring at the bed from the far corner of the room; basking in the witcher's silence before he asked.

His question gotten you unready for an honest answer as he bluntly shot the query out, planning to resolve the problem with you in the best way that he thought. Being forthright.

"Hmm." you hummed back in displeasure, sounding exactly the same like how he does.

The corner of his lips lifted in a small smirk, his voice vibrating at the back of your head and against his chest. The buzz keeping you calm and at ease rather than being alone in the castle when he haven't arrived yet. Your anxiety giving you such trauma that made you want to sob again.

But, Geralt's distraction to stifle your cries has technically been useful when he felt you sigh again, watching your face from above and behind to see a frown etching to grow. He heedlessly fetched a cup of water with the palm of his hand, delicately pouring your cheek with water as he gruffly quipped.

"That's my line. Not yours, Midget."

Geralt repeated his gestures with you, lightly damping your hair with water as he gently brushed your tousled wet hair with the spaces of his fingers, keeping them light and comforting which made you lean back a lot more, accepting his gentleness after being physically whacked in harsh moments prior before he came around---your purpose of being upset has now been forgotten by his unfamiliar gestures that was tickling your spine with ants racing on your skin because of how his actions was giving you cavity. A sweet tooth.

Just being held so softly felt good in real life---you didn't know how comforting it feels even back in earth, but right now was just the right time to feel how you would yearn for it when Geralt wouldn't be around.

"I told you, before I even realized that you were important to me was after you've made a wish to the Djinn."

Your swollen cheek fell on the skin of his biceps; sighing while you stared out of nowhere and finally held onto his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you still and steady in his arms. His nudity becoming not much of a problem for you now because it was an experience that you could never forget; eventually having the privilege in familiarizing his body just like how a lover does while he did the same to you.

Though, his imperfect beauty could still get you blushing nevertheless as he liked seeing yours no matter how insecure you get---but he seemed to admire your nakedness a lot which he received with a 'men versus boobs' explanation that his kind of gender would always love the idea of breasts no matter how big or small as the same goes for a vagina.

You'd received a pleased hum after that and also some horny witcher begging and trying his best to get your clothes off in his sneaky techniques.

"I know. I'm sorry I was cranky, Geralt."

The white wet-haired witcher pursed his lips, looking down at your face as you've felt his gaze heavy while he calmly spoke.

"It's...alright. But, must it be for Eanraig to see and hear?"

You've given him another sincere, sweet and soft apology. Caressing your thumb over the top of his scarred hand which was under the waters and he'd let you graze over the tiniest marks on his fingers and palms, swaying under the bath water. Breathing calm and collected while he stayed in bath with you; cherishing such moment again that could get his chest feeling the lightest out of all the times he lived in the continent; more freeing to than the one he had with a particular sorceress whom he had also been connected with; via Djinn.

His free hand lifted away from leaning onto the edge of the tub, reaching down to sweep your hair to the side. Clearing the space on your neck and such wounds from the shoulder blades, others being a scar from his potent medicine that he has poured.

"I remembered your skin clearly in the back of my head. Thoroughly silk like a bairn's bum,"

He paused, prolonging the silence as he gently danced his fingers on the skin of your shoulders; too tender that it began to lick your spine, igniting the tiniest shiver when you've felt the soft, warm feathery feeling of his lips giving your painted shoulder a peck of his specific comfort that he only gives to people who have turned his world a much better place than how much of a hell it has been.

"Now, you are scarred." Geralt grumbled against your skin, giving one last kiss and making everything all worth while as he was still around. Continuously denouncing what they've done to his family---even beating Jaskier to pulp.

"---They've...turned you like me,"

You've slightly turned your head to see his amber eyes withdrawn from reality. Thoughts probably plaguing his mind while he scowled. A simple purse of your lips, suggesting to receive a small, quick buss has Geralt dipping his head down to sweetly smack your lips to his, letting him feel that you were there; finally there with him physically and he didn't need to worry.

Thus, it was just like that. Geralt and his presence, including such soft gestures that you rarely receive nor see that he does for anyone and a soundly kiss has let the upset feelings go away, simply just like that.

Even though, he has never confessed any love yet---this was forging you both to understand what connection you have for each other. Though, clearly unspecific and undistinguished. Or was this his type of love? a love never needed to be told for it can be felt?

The question here, does he even love you? was this love?

Partially turning around in his arms to see him gazing back at you, Geralt seemed to be nonplussed and introverted with his thoughts. Keeping words to himself while he was giving you a solemn frown of his face, examining your swollen eye that you tried pulling him out of his regret and blames with a quirky tone of your voice; sounding like nothing has happened to you nor have you been battered to bruising limbs.

"When are you going to leave?"

"After I take care of you, midget." he deeply murmured, watching you like a hawk with golden eyes as the candle light was making his eyes glow prettier than usual. You grabbed a handful amount of water with your palms, arms sore as you reached up to pour water on his face that surely gotten a deep, complain of his humming when it made him close his eyes from the uninvited rainfalls of liquid.

The fading colored grime has been softly scrubbed off by the pad of your damp thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. His gaze was utmost heavy, shooting you a warm, loving sensation on your chest; surrounding the fading Cicatrix that somehow turned insipid after the nights before with the witcher.

You couldn't help but notice his grouching and grumpy self as he scanned your face with an affectionate flicker in his amber that made you tut. The gentleness you were giving was a thorough unfamiliar feeling he always received from you despite of your negative characteristics---though, he doesn't mind it at all---sometimes, he does but that was beyond the point when he felt comfort from you and aspire to give it back despite of not knowing what and how comfort is to a witcher.

"Stop being such a wild cat---Let me guess, you haven't gotten to have your nap again?"

Geralt huffed out a breath of complaint. A short, low growl that made you giggle quickly when you wiped his face with your fingers; playfully glaring at how you were bathing him.

"When did I ever?"

"It seems like you haven't had it last night again---Stop scowling like you want to strangle me," you lightly poked the dimples of his nose that got him deeply growling his protests. His expressions completely emotionless as he turned his face to avoid your play-time; considering on biting your fingers off to stop annoying the heck out of him.

Howbeit, Geralt went on in silently letting you touch his face. Mesmerized by how his scars really never affected his beauty and probably added perfection over his gorgeousness. The witcher mutely let you trace the bridge of his nose and the scars on his face whilst intently staring at your face in return.

"---Until you came along," he surprisingly continued the topic, never breaking his gaze as he'd seen you lean closer to his face. The tangy scent he was familiar in recognizing from you, mixing with the medicine on your skin. Yet, it didn't stop him to wait for what you had in mind. Your bruised, healing lips brushing against his that made both of your chests tingly for over such sweet intimacy that you've both eventually become accustomed with.

Geralt pursed his lips for your thirsts to calm down; such desperate feeling that both parties yearned for. A twee, syrupy connection of your lips on his---a kiss that made warmth spread through you like an angel's halo trying to make you holy and worth for his affections.

Men in your world will certainly not impress you anymore. Geralt of Rivia has raised the bars of what men should be---he'd ruined the normality of what you expected from such gender because you believed that they may not reach the level of what you've felt for him.

Love as you may see now.

But, it can be quite blurry of a picture for a future that you do not hold or knew how it'll be for the both of you because you've teleported as a miracle that nobody expected to receive.

"If I---If I die---" your pessimist self started to run your mouth over Geralt. Yet, he was quick to cut you off with a sullen chide and an avoidance of your gaze with a grumpy sigh.

"Stop. Don't." he groused with the mouth ends pulled down, "---You're not going to die,"

"What if I do?"

His eyes turned penetrating as if he wanted to tell how much you are wrong about that argument. Those cat-eyes of his; sharp and making a stand for the idea he didn't want to accept.

"I will never let that happen. They can have me hunt down whatever they want, even slice a throat of a nobleman or a monster but I will never let anything happen to you,"

The witcher gently scooped water with a palm of his hand, pouring them over your face. Coming forth with a scrub of it as he shoved his large palm that made you shriek against his hold while he lightly scoured your face as a gesture to clean you more inside the bath; avoiding your healing bruises.

"---I don't want to hear that again while I give you a bath,"

Darkness suddenly turned into seeing Geralt's stony stare after being suffocated by his hand that was suddenly shoved on your face, "I'm sorry," you immediately tried to woo over his vexation, your face wet from the bath water he tried to rinse you in, an involuntary response of your arms slipping around his bare waist shocked your consciousness because of how touchy-feely you've become around him.

The latter welcomed your apology and touches, humming in appeasement for your quick sorry; knowing your way with him and reading that he could not tolerate such physical-contact from you without liking the feel of your skin, you've leaned your body more to him---your naked chests flushed together that got him curling his lips in a small smile whilst feeling your forehead fall on the side of his neck, nuzzling with an apology.

"I-I didn't mean to upset you,"

Quietude embraced you both. Sitting in a tub. Entirely bare for each other to see but it was so wholesome for the betterment of your relationship with him; nurturing what understanding you both have for each other, not entirely specific nor knowing what it is. As a matter of fact, you do know what you felt for him, but not the other way around.

"She..She isn't a queen in my world,"

Bamboozle screamed inside his eyes for your statement, his fingers gliding along the small of your back under the waters as he hummed in curiosity.

"Hmm?"

You've remember the time that the queen has visited your cell. Retched between the hatch of the door came in view was your kind boss who wore the finest set of golden, silk, long gown with rich trimmings. She stopped by to check on your victimized state with a glaze of ignorance in her eyes. She didn't care for your condition because if so, she wouldn't have left the slammer with a quiet scoff.

Out of all the people who could turn out evil was a queen in Geralt's world and a boss you've highly given respect to.

Nonetheless, in this world; it seemed to be like the opposite personalities of how people had been in your world.

"Your queen. Queen Makeda. She's named Angela Cincinnati. The boss of mine who also works in the pizza parlor that I'm in,"

Geralt has leaned back on the edge of the tub in a relaxed posture, lifting his other hand every now and then to pour water on your hair that tickled your insides because of how cold the water has been already. His warmth being your therapy while thinking such hypothetical answers for what mysteries that the continent has been giving you. Jotting down possibilities that a typical earthling could try to guess like they were watching a very interesting movie.

"Does this mean I have someone who looks like me in this world too?" pause. "---Does she have a better life than me?"

Your witcher cocked his head to the side as he was in deep thought over the woman who looked like you. His mouth opening and closing for whatever shit he wanted to say because Savia has been the person who ruined your future by creating such crimes being pointed at you because you looked like her twin.

"Worse. I can say that you had a better life than her and also complicated yours at the same time," he gravely informed.

"My doppelganger then? have you already seen her?"

"Will you try to find her if I say yes?"

"No. I...don't wanna scare her with this drama movie I'm in."

You've leaned away from Geralt and his consoling cuddles, trying hard to rip your body away from him when all you wanted was to bask in his own embrace. Splashing your face with more bath water, he'd given you a curious glint of his eyes. Fixating his gaze on your bare form, subtly sliding his focus on the depths of your neck and wanting nothing more than to give more sweet busses of care. Geralt ignored the modern reference you've muttered about being in a movie and found it more interesting to appreciate the nudity you've freely have been giving him.

It's not like you were naked all the time. The witcher snickered to himself; appreciating the best view of you that he can ever get.

"The water's cold now. Are we done?" you softly whispered, the thought of your doppelganger out there; like a twin from another mother and dimension that you didn't expect to have. It was interesting to know, but frightening to actually see the real her because people like your doppelganger who lived in the medieval era might not be a great sight for the woman.

Geralt grabbed onto the end of the tub, whisking a thin, Ivory robe that was made of silk as he deeply grumbled, "Stand."

You've stood on your feet, hopping off the tub entirely dripping wet from the bath water; feeling eyes heavy on your body and raking over your nudity from behind. The heat started to rise up your face again, making you clear your throat when you've turned your body to grab onto the robe that Geralt has reached out for you. His keen peepers grabbing the chance to shamelessly rake your body in silence.

He'd received no refusal or a loud scolding after thinking it through that he had the liberty of doing so; also, the idea being a gift after trying to protect you from any harm and sacrificing over an endless hunt just for the Kaedwenians to cease their punishments.

"Hmm. A movie. I missed watching one. Though, It's not like if I ask you to go on a date with me again, Geralt---A movie date this time---watching a movie with you will never happen," you turned your head at your front, slipping your arms inside the short sleeves while tightening the knot around your waist; frowning when the witcher couldn't see your face. The truth beginning to bother you when problems began to rise and for such abrupt topic that lingered along your consciousness.

"---Because you and I both live in different worlds, it's like they collide."

Geralt kept his mouth hushed. The loud splash of water echoing around the room when he left the wooden tub; strolling behind to promenade past you. His stark-naked self never bothering him after the night you both had each other. Basking in more of his nudity especially when he slept; knowing that he was mentally complaining over how reserved he needed to be while you slept beside him, his clothes very uncomfortable because of the heat he was feeling.

Basically, he did not know the meaning of clothes after the night of ravish; constantly taking his slumbers in the nude as he covertly tried to wrench them off you as well with his witcher needs.

His bare back and derriere was displayed before you, the distinct foramen of his brawny back giving you a loud greeting as he grabbed onto his trousers on the end of the bed, lending his ear and slipping on his leather pants that was bursting through the seams because of his thick thunder thighs and curvacious derriere.

"My world and yours, they sound like a parallel universe that I completely don't understand even back in earth, it's too complicated to know---too scientific for my thriving brain,"

Quick panic-stricken questions were sent to the witcher; the motion of the words hasty and apprehensive because of such negative ideas forming inside your head; skyrocketing like a plague in your mind while Geralt wore his breeches, not trying to take cover in front of you.

You couldn't help but shift your eyes constantly at Geralt and the queen sized bed, his gigantic biceps straining along his movements while buttoning his pants; lowly grunting from each pull of the hem to fit his curvaceous, muscled arse that you couldn't help but clear your throat, forgetting what you needed to say for a second and being distracted over your trembling anxiety.

You eyes took heed of the opened windows where the brisk wind was slipping in a breeze, seeing how you could see the pale moon from afar. A guess telling you that the room was in a high place. In a few short strides, you've looked out of the window, peering up the Tartarean night sky to meet the moon in its full glory, finding no flaw that you were in a different planet and not yours.

Confusing and complicated to understand in your human perspective because nothing human was basically being shown as you lived in their world.

"This...This is your earth. Your continent. While my earth out there also exists without any one of you knowing. What if I have a count down while I stay in your world---what will happen to me---would I get to stay alive forever in this world when I have been too dependent over you?"

Heavy strides alarmed you for Geralt's presence who loomed behind your back. His mouth curled down when he has heard your questions; feeling no trust in between you both, hesitance scrambling your way and filling your heart when it hasn't been there before you even came to the castle. It was baffling him for your curiosity and determined self to seek answers when he has no answer to it at all.

The sorceress has probably told stuff to you, he silently thought as he brushed a hand over your arm and clothed shoulder. The roughness of his palm colliding against your bruised ones as he tries his best to provide what you needed; not knowing what because of how he does not understand this kind of relationship with women because it has always been typically greed, lust or a needed release to calm his overly mutations.

Except for you, Yennefer or Renfri because he actually really cares.

"Do you not want me to protect you?" he gravely mumbled behind, seeming to be slightly taking umbrage after hearing the queries.

"You're only doing this because you have no other choice just like how you've told the king that I was your betrothed when it isn't true at all,"

How sure were you to say that it wasn't true?

Reflecting and debating his thoughts over your judgement, Geralt marred an agonized frown that creased his forehead. He rarely does claim such label but he didn't regret the action after hearing how it made the king lessen the punishments for you; excluding all planned damnation. The witcher had no explanations about the moment he had called you his betrothed nor did he want whatever you were thinking about his actions.

Hence, it instantly made him cantankerous when he hasn't been feeling it before you opened that mouth of yours again.

"You think I have done it with a purpose I don't understand," he incoherently rumbled in his baritone timbre. Slightly pulling away from his own touch on yours to turn around and walk through the end of the bed to wear and grab onto his armor and under shirt, half naked with a straining back; all rigid and stressing under the skin.

"Geralt---"

"With the mishaps of my world and yours, if I ask you to stay; will you leave your kingdom?"

He'd turn his foot around to see him slip the under tunic over his head, the scowl prominent making him appear stony; dour and solemn. His eyes eager while it reflects the candle light on the side of the bed. Reading through the golden hues lay a pining greed that the witcher never knew he craves for; such hungering he does not know that he wanted to find and receive when it was his own faults over not having it because when he feels a deeper connection with someone, the white wolf suddenly becomes disfunctional; pushing her away because of not spitting the truth about his feelings.

He was capable of it; having feelings over another. Love as people may describe but he was in denial and can be reflective, the processing quite slower than usual because he had never received love through out his lifetime; not even a mother who actually cared.

No one.

You didn't understand him; what he really wanted to say or do because his words were spoken on a race track, passing through the chuckholes that could get you knowing what his true feelings were.

Was he letting you stay out of love or out of pity that you were lost, vulnerable and needed adoption?

"Do you believe in love, Geralt?" you've countered back, feeling the warmth spread around your chest for skipping around bushes over the real meaning behind your words; sounding like a confession if he was smart enough. The warmth spreading through like wildfire, scathing your skin as it felt like it was burning from the reality you were seeing.

"---Or are you only doing this because of the Djinn incident? you're only feeling this way for me because I came around while Yennefer isn't?"

The latter gave a grim frown upon the mention of her name. Just like how he always does when Jaskier says her name when it shouldn't been uttered. Now, it was your turn to give a grouch. Your feigned smile joyless when Geralt was unblinking from your unexpected argument.

Was this true love you have with him? Did he even feel the same way when he can't even say the word at all? or will you both hate each other until it grows into spite?

Will you eventually be killed by the hands of a man you love as said by Eanraig's understanding over the curse set between?

"I've heard from the sorceress that you have been finding Yennefer from her a month before I came along and that this connection I had with you also had been the same with that Vengerberg. What if she comes back around? what will happen to me?"

Ingrith has said more information than you can bear. You weren't just physically pained but also mentally as well for whatever bullcrap she wanted to address. Palms over your ears were the only solution to shut the truth off as it echoed around the dungeon. She'd smirked when you've whimpered from the stones, the back of your sweater drenched in blood for using hardened sticks which had pointy twigs; never believing what they were doing to you as they also tried to throughly kick your stomach.

The men who were ordered to do so had no idea why they've been commanded to batter your torso, but you knew it had something to be involved with the cunning sorceress because of how she'd given another dagger of her gaze lingering on your middle like you would magically grow a baby inside of it when it was impossible from the start because of Geralt's infertility.

The witcher was like a bomb about to detonate. Though, the explosion never came other than a tight clench of his jaw. Geralt was wearing a lour like a bad omen over being interrogated; debating over answering the confusing truth that left him debating over himself as well. He has never remembered the sorceress until you've mentioned her; remembering that he'd taken full measures to even try finding Yennefer's long lost cousin for a plan to get back with her and earning nothing in return.

"You're blathering complete nonsense, Midget. You've also been listening to Ingrith when I told you not to. She's cunning and will do anything to ruin you---kill you,"

Your mouth turned upside down; tighter and pensive for being swerved again, "You didn't answer my question." an exasperated huff was let out, "---she was once important to you. I've heard from your bard; you had adventures with her, shared powerful moments that are exactly the opposite of what we are having---she's the first woman you've loved. A powerful, independent lady that you will never regret having in your life because she can defend everyone---and I'm...just me,"

You didn't know what has gotten to you. The insecurities lighting up the sky, constantly reminding you that his existence can be a mere catch of your dreams because he was too good to be true---or jealousy infecting your blood into thinking that he would leave you alone when he never had yet?

Perhaps, it may be how proud Jaskier has told you that she was powerful that it has intimidated you. Her name seems to be beautiful and there was no doubt she was when he has been avoiding of hearing her name.

He had probably been devoted of Yennefer when a tight frown couldn't be erased upon the lips you have been kissing---thoughtlessly thinking that it was genuine or had any meaning to it.

"Really, what am I to you? "

"My home. Also equally important."

"More important than her? Do you dream of her?"

"You know I don't---not anymore."

Not anymore, he said. So, he does dream of her before.

Crossing your arms over your chest, your fingers went straight to the sleeves, anxiously rubbing over the silk against each other for the dreading beats of your heart, your eyes turning to look away as you quietly spoke; highly aware of an expected rejection.

"If I tell you what I really feel about you, will you give me an answer?" you softly spoke to the chilly air embracing your fidgety form.

"---Because then, you will know my answer about staying in this world you're in."

You've turned your head to see him wearing a permanent pucker of his brows, veiled with furrows of indifference and a look of betrayal. Your bluntness being a detriment because of giving an indefinite answer as well, avoiding his question and misunderstanding the sour expression on your face a while ago.

"Is it hate? Disgust?" he gruffly gnarled. His attitude turning colder like an executioner's ax, unaware of the slight wince on your face because of how glazed he appeared to be.

"---because I am highly aware of what people see of me. I am at loss for what Ingrith must've told; lies or what may result that I am seeing you look at me like I've cast the Djinn's curse on you when you have never looked at me like that at all,"

He spat those words with a sardonic drip of his tongue. The frown darkening his expression more than it ever was.

"Don't blame me on this one, Geralt. Don't shift my words like I think so lowly of you when you and I both don't know the real deal between us with the Djinn incident,"

Geralt loudly exhaled his breath through his nose, marching towards you with the face of an angry ape. Disbelieving what he was comprehending from you, saying that what you shared was beyond reality; like he has been told by it the second time. Your words inconspicuous of loudly saying that maybe what you were both feeling was magic after all; having the presence of the Djinn around  for another relationship that he was having.

"You don't want to stay," he ceased his footsteps, looming before you. His irritation suddenly intimidating like a bulldozer when you realized he was bigger than he could get if he was mad at whatever you've done; or probably it was just your point of view because you were feeling small over his blaring anger.

"---Isn't that what you wanted to say?" Geralt emphasized much clearer this time, drawling his words with a hopeful hint that he just misunderstood you and he was right.

"What---? I didn't even said that! Give me a reason to stay then! I am in shambles for your way of thinking right now!"

He had a wide-legged stance; leaning onto more of your personal space while his Aureate eyes deeply stared into yours. Volatile and blazing as it looked like a fixed glare, baring his teeth as it curled---his fangs slipping through as he bluntly spoke.

"You aren't being entirely forthright,"

You couldn't help but cross your arms tighter against your chest, shuffling on your feet as you mentally gasp from his retort. Defensive as his attitude was beginning to irritate you too.

"Well, you aren't being forthright too!"

Geralt huffed before you. Momentarily scoping out the ceilings before peering down and staring right back with blazing peepers. Though, the witcher has never raised his voice on you when you've did. But, you knew he was fuming; seething deep inside, "I don't know what's wrong with you." he gravely mumbled to himself, steaming up from your sudden, churlish attitude.

"---you're a cherub for a while then acting hostile the next. Is this your pathetic insecurity talking or you just hate me all of a sudden?"

Your eyes instantly went wide open and jaw falling slack at how he'd open his mouth. Raising a finger to his chest as you slightly backed away.

"You're calling my insecurity pathetic?" you uttered in disbelief, swallowing hard for having to hear him be this way---though, you knew he was capable of being such because of how blunt he was. But, he was never mean to you as much as calling your insecurity pathetic. Tight lips were given to the witcher who had his chest puffed out for his own frustrations and repulse.

"---Also, aren't you the one who said that maybe this whole thing is actually just the Djinn effects before you've even---! Even---!?" put his pickle in a jar. Wreck the punani. Ravished you in bed. Shared Netflix and Chill despite having no Netflix in their world.

You shook your head for stammering, quietly growling for the annoyance he'd given after basically taking care of you---expecting that it was done out of love, just like how you've first initially thought of staying forever by his side when he has asked you to stay in their world regardless of the consequences and disadvantages.

"What's next then? My anxiety is childish for you too? nonsense?" pause. "---You don't even know what I mean---and even have no idea about what feelings I was talking about. You can't even tell me what happened between you and Yennefer without disregarding my question or avoiding the topic---or even cut Jaskier off!"

Standing akimbo, you've narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin to the fullest because of his skyscraper height. The displeasure shown from how your nose was twisted and from how you couldn't control your mouth from taking a marathon.

"If I shut up and never question you about things anymore then it just means that I don't care for you at all when I do so badly. Do you know what this means to me? Nobody has plagued my mind so hard---no other man has filled my mind with crazed thoughts. In my world, this means that I---"

Geralt immediately cut you off. His teeth bared and jaw set as he interrupted you out of the blue, catching you off guard.

"It must be for the better then," he rasped, clearly disgruntled for what he should respond to the quick blatter of your brain. His mind gripping so hard like wires being tightened.

"---It must be for the better that you tighten that mouth of yours because you don't know when to shut up sometimes,"

Geralt had a cloudy countenance from his sudden bark. Suddenly forgetting how to respond after hearing every word inside his head. He shouldn't have cut you off especially when you were about to say your secret---the one you've been delibitating over countless of times inside your head; making everything sure before saying those heartfelt words because it was three words that meant the world to you as it will be the first.

Yet, the witcher had to fuck everything up with his petulant mood.

Your clenched fists turned slack. Expression stolid with your throat tightly swallowing the bane sipping through your esophagus like it was being punished for even hoarding all your confidence over confessing what you've felt for the white wolf. You've rapidly blinked your hazy, cloudy eyes; your chest tightening because it was reading 'rejection' because of how Geralt wanted you to shut up.

Maybe, he didn't need to hear the confession at all.

Eyes cast downward; feeling the medicines he'd given you seep through your skin and making everything numb. You didn't expect the concoction to also numb your fragile heart, experiencing your first heart break. Your palms turned clammy over tightening them over. Passing beside Geralt and avoiding those eyes that was thoroughly regretting what has been said, the bed may seem to be a better place to faint on and cry yourself through the night rather than his comforting arms that you wouldn't get to reject if he'd say his apologies, trying to stop you from crying.

Hurriedly hiding your face away from him, you've sat on the bed with your back away from him. Your face like rain experiencing in the middle of thunder, utterly gloomy and despair for reading the signs in the opposite of what you didn't expect. Forgetting that love shouldn't be filled with expectations so disappointments may be less.

Your toes were scuffing against the carpet with a voice turning smaller, shaky as the tears were threatening to fall and it would be when Geralt decides to talk.

"I hope you didn't say that but...but considering my profound hearing tonight and how angry you made me feel, I suggest that you take care of that monster hunting of yours. I sincerely hope you find that witch. You can throw me away soon so you couldn't hear anything from me again, Geralt. You want me to zip it? I'll zip it, then. Don't bother talking to me if you genuinely don't want to,"

Everything would be perfect. This would've been a utopian scenery when your leading man decides to wrap his arms around you, comforting you from the verge of crying your heart out for his mistakes or for both of yours. But, Geralt was no leading man or a prince that he was highly opposing of. He was beyond repair or a man whom you needed to understand more than any normal one should because of how he was raised and created.

Geralt of Rivia was a witcher you couldn't understand. Hence, he was more human than he could ever get as he decided to be unresponsive. Silent and basking in his own regret. Just like a new potion he'd recently encountered, trying to decipher how it worked---knowing the ingredients to get you simmering down in no time.

It was a wrong word to say. Geralt was sure of it. He was beginning to argue with himself, grinding his own teeth together when he has seen your posture slouch. Your fingers fiddling with the sheets of the mattress, tightly holding them in your hands as you looked outside of the window from the side of the bed, avoiding his eyes.

Then, he heard familiar padded footsteps coming forth outside the doors of your chambers.

Eanraig. He was being requested to be seen for his upcoming hunt in a few hours.

Geralt was dreading to leave you in a state like this because he knew you were mad.

He heard loud taps against the locked door which has subtly make you turn your head towards the doorway without wholly turning your body. A frustrated growl reverberated around the four corners of the room---it was Geralt.

The latter tightly closed his fists on his sides, shooting daggers on your back who avoided giving him attention after his fuming episode, hearing the word 'fuck' slipping through his lips in such an exasperated bark to himself while he padded through the room and grabbed onto his belongings; his weapons and his resentment for such an argument that you blocked him in after receiving a petty, personal attack.

You've heard the lock sliding out of its hook. Swiftly turning on your bed, Geralt was already paving his way out of the door, heavily marching and begrudging. He'd open the door to reveal Eanraig raising an arm to knock a little more louder.

"The king requests for you, Geralt---"

The witcher gave a displeased, unmannerly grumble of his chest. A hum that surely given the druid an understanding that he was not in the best mood to talk, passing through Eanraig as he went straight out of the door with the nastiest scowl he has seen since the moment he arrived.

Lovers Quarrel. He mindlessly thought to himself, watching the witcher strut away and along the stoned hallways like he was bringing all the storm with him. Nobody would notice he was aggravated if they knew him better.

Eanraig quietly shut the door behind him, his eyes meeting your bleary ones that complimented the pouty frown growing more and more when you've realized Geralt left you all mad, never even intending to comfort you, ask what 'feelings' you meant or even bother to tell you that he didn't mean you were pathetic.

In a flash, you've gotten a queasy feeling inside of your stomach which made you grab onto your mouth, your face flinching as you suddenly stood up on your feet, "Little woman," the druid sauntered to where you've strolled---before the open windows as you shot your head out of it, retching after a little while before he was beside you, calmly patting your back to make you feel better.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just...nauseous. Thank you, Eanraig." wiping your mouth with the back of your palm, you've heaved exhausted breaths while the druid ushered you to sit on the bed. Talking in the midst of it, assuring him that it was nothing but just a stomach bug and feeling weary over it, "---Probably because they've beaten me to pulp,"

The Druid earnestly stared upon your pale face. Hands shaky as you grab onto the soft sheets, softly grazing them beneath the pad of your fingers, caressing with such feeble strength. Eanraig scrutinized your condition as you turned your head away with a face falling over your current fight with the witcher.

The latter languidly sat beside you, a genuine smile turning his eyes into crescent shapes that tells he was intrigued and amused over what signs was receiving from you especially the warm, tender aura radiating off you; more than what you can offer like you came in two's.

"Will you wholeheartedly accept the responsibility of being the mother of your witcher's child, little one?"

I hope you loved the double update, bb’s! FEEDBACKS ARE SO APPRECIATED!

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[emiko-miya]

admiration and confession [langris vaude]

request: langris scenario where he likes you but since hes the VC of Golden Dawn, he gets a lot of admirers. and he has Finesse. But then he ends up confessing somehow... Can you do a scenario of this please? Thank you! :) sorry if this is vague

-

As a kid, Langris Vaude never had trouble getting girls to like him. But as much as he wanted to deny it, his heart belonged to one person. There was something about the way you smiled; the way butterflies seemed to escape from the pit of your stomach and the way the sun had somehow toppled down from the sky and made a home right there in your heart. There were many opportunities he could have seized, many he had let pass. Moments where he could have said three simple words, "I like you."

As a kid, you never had trouble fending off boys that liked you.

You didn’t even have to think twice to know that your heart belonged to one person. And it was him. Even with his smug smile that radiates with arrogant triumph and that stupidly charming matter-of-fact tone of voice. Courage was something that came easy for you. So why hadn't you been able to tell him how you truly felt? It was three simple words. As easy as breathing, yet as hard as a place devoid of oxygen.

"Let's go get some cherry tarts, Y/N," Langris suddenly exclaimed, high on post-training adrenaline.

You met Langris when you were five. Perhaps even younger. Being born from Noble families, it goes without saying you became immediate friends. It was never only due to status though. Respect, to both of you, had to be earned, and it was never, under any circumstances, given for granted.

"Eh... Shouldn't we clean this up?" You pointed at the broken pieces of what used to be a pillar. 

Langris waved his hand dismissively, "No, no. We'll get a commoner to clean that up."

You hummed, brows furrowed and lips pursed before finally relenting, "Fine, but you're paying."

"I’m always paying," he corrected. You giggled in response. 

When you arrived at the dessert parlour - and this goes without saying - in the Noble Realm - the first thing you heard was flirtatious giggles. A few women sat in the corner booth, giggling amongst each other as they batted their eyelashes as Langris, and shooting extremely disdainful looks towards you. 

You decided to ignore them, as always.

"Langris-kun!" One of the girls called out.

"I bought that especially for you!"

"Oh... My... God, what the hell?!" You slapped a hand to your mouth and burst into a waterfall of laughter.

Langris' eyes grew wide in fear as he peeled off the bra from his head, holding it as far away from himself as his arms could stretch. He let it fall to a table next to him. You didn't know why you found yourself laughing so hard but you felt absolutely delirious.

"L-Langris-kun!" You mocked in the midst of your giggles, "Wow. First, Finesse, and now this woman. You really love attracting older women, don't you?"

Underneath a look of disgust as he glared at the over sized red bra, Langris wondered why your nonchalance bothered him so much. He could feel butterflies escaping from the pit of his stomach as your laughter drifted in and out of his ears.

"L-Langris-kun?" A girl had come by, glancing up and down between her toes and at Langris' questioning eyes, "I'm sorry, but... Can I have a minute of your time? I..."

He wanted to say no, tell the girl to get lost, he was obviously on a date (or at least to him, this was what it seemed like), ask her if she was stupid… the whole nine yards. This was getting tiring. But he was worried he’d go off the rails and if he acted that way, it might tarnish the Vaude family name. But if you were to refuse on his behalf...

He gave you a look. 

Please refuse! Get mad! Get angry! Tell her to back off. Come on.

He was so sure you harboured the same feelings he had towards you.So... Why?!

But instead, you smiled up at him. He grimaced before turning his fakest, most plastic smile at the girl; “Of course! What can I do for you?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you…” she repeated, shifting from foot to foot. 

Then go away! Langris thought to himself. Out loud, he asked, “Yes?”

She dipped into a deep bow and shoved a delicately decorated letter towards him.

"L-Langris-kun, I... I love you! Will you accept my feelings?!"

Langris looked back at you, expecting you to fly into a rage, maybe push the girl outside and punch her. But instead, you just rolled your eyes indulgently, like you was saying ‘oh, here we go again. this'll be a funny story for later.’ He turned back towards the girl, who was shivering under the weight of his silence.

“I’m sorry. That’s very sweet but I can’t accept your feelings. See, I like someone,” he said through gritted teeth, taking a half-step back.

The girl looked away sheepishly before she bowed again and ran off. You waited until she’d left the shop before bursting out laughing, "You could've just said 'I have a fiance'!”

Langris wanted to blow his lid off.  He ignored your question; “Why didn’t you get mad?”

"Why would I get mad? I'm not jealous. I'm not the one you're going to marry," You asked, your brow arching. Inside you were screaming at yourself. Why did you say that?!

"Stop reminding me."

He inhaled sharply, turning that statement over and over in his head. He glowered down at the walls before storming out of the shop even before getting his favorite cherry tarts.

"Wait! Where are you going?!"  You chased after him, "We haven't even -"

"I like you," he confessed, halting suddenly.

You stared blankly at him, trying to figure out what he meant.

“Yeah, me too. You’re a good friend.”

"No. I like you," he said a little louder, the words splintered into weird pauses.

"You... can't. You have Finesse..."

"Finesse this, Finesse that! Who cares about that stupid woman?!" He yelled, but his eyes were pleading. 

"I..."

Come on. Just say it.

"Fuck this. Langris, I like you t -"

But before you could finish your sentence, he had pulled you close and connected your lips together. You let out a soft gasp, your eyelashes fluttering close. You hadn’t realised how much yo wanted this.

"Took you long enough," you mumbled against the kiss, leaning into him as his arms found their way around your waist.

"Oh shut up," he smirked. ”Guess you’ll need to give Finral more encouragement if he’s going to be the next Vaude heir, cause I’m not about to do it."

[let-it-raines]

Walking the Baseline (1/1)

He’s at the top of his game. She’s in the midst of a comeback. The Olympics are just around the corner, and there’s more than gold medals on the line. There’s secrets and personal lives and a lot more at risk than simply losing, but as most know, Killian Jones and Emma Swan hate to lose. 

rating: mature (just to err on the safe side)

a/n: Hello, hello, my darlings! I was informed of the @captainswanolympics as I’ve missed so much in my time of only checking messages and posting YWUSS, and I just had to write a tennis AU. If you know me, you know I played tennis back in the day, worked behind the scenes for a professional tennis tournament, and am an avid fan, so the fact that I haven’t written more CS tennis is surprising. lol. 

This one is short and sweet, and it’s the first CS I’ve written in months. So I genuinely hope you enjoy it. And no, you don’t have to know tennis to understand 🎾 

ao3: | here |

tag list: @qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

-/-

“My legs feel like jelly,” Emma sighs as she sinks into an ice bath. It’s never pleasant, and it may not even help, but it makes her feel better every time. “Like, I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk when I get out of here. I don’t think I can even stand now.”

“You say that after every long match,” David tells her, clicking away at his iPad. There’s no doubt he’s studying her stats and about to pick her apart in a friendly yet incredibly harsh way that is a David trademark. “Is your shoulder okay? Your first serve percentage was up, but your speed was down.”

Yep. He’s so predictable. She knew that was coming the moment she decided to change the speed on her serves.

“I’m fine. I’m tired. I mean, shit, David. It’s like the tour is trying to ruin our bodies. My last two-week break was when? March? It’s almost August, and it’s not going to stop there.”

“You’ve made it before. You can do it again.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that I don’t have to do this.”

David looks up from his iPad, brow raised, and she knows she’s not going to get the answer she wants. He doesn’t tell her she can quit unless they’re in a heated argument after disagreeing on her service motion or her footwork, which will always be her downfall when she’s exhausted, or any other aspect of her game. That’s what happens when your coach is not only your couch but also your older brother.

“I’m not going to say that. You’re in the quarterfinals. You play against Svitolina, who you have an excellent record against, and then in the semis, it could go either way with French or Stephens. That’s who we’re worried about. We’re not thinking about the finals until we’re in the finals.���

“I’m not thinking about just the finals. I’m thinking about the fact that I played Madrid, Rome, Roland Garros, Eastbourne, Wimbledon, Washington, here. And now I’m supposed to fly to Rio for the Olympics, then fly to Cincinnati, and then New York. And after New York, we almost immediately fly to Beijing, and it doesn’t stop. I get, what? A month and a half off, but it’s not really off time because we spend that time fixing everything for next season. The only way I get a break is if I lose or I get injured, and I don’t want either of those things.”

Emma’s chest heaves as she finishes speaking, the words flying out faster than her mind can come up with them as she runs through her tournament schedule, and David doesn’t blink. He stares at her like he always does, and sometimes she swears it’s like staring at a male version of herself. And she knows what’s coming. She always does. David never got to play past college, the professional circuit too much for his body, and he always pulls the card of how much he would give to be playing right now, to be in her position. She gets it. If she was in his position, she would do the same thing, but right now, all she really wants is to cry.

“You have worked too hard to quit, Emma,” David sighs, giving her a patented big-brother condescending stare. “You are not going to quit. I know this part of the season is rough, but you push through it every year. And imagine how good it’s going to feel when you have a gold medal around your neck or when you have that US Open trophy in your hands. You don’t get to play forever, and you’re the one who said that you weren’t quitting when everyone would have easily expected it. Do you want to prove them right?”

Emma moves in the bath, sinking a little lower, and damn, her sports bra is going to be impossible to get off. Her gaze shifts from David to the TV where ESPN commentators are sitting at a desk, her Nike-approved picture on the screen beside them. They run through the stats of her match and then her overall career stats. She’s twenty-eight, which is apparently at the end of her career according to them, world number seven, which is also abysmal to them somehow, and she is not living up to her potential when she is a former world number one, six-time grand slam champion, and a gold medalist from four years ago in London.

She groans and tries not to think about how much she hates all the people who work for ESPN. They have their favorites and the ones they hate, and since she is not a mediocre American male or one of the all-time greats, she’s somewhere in between. Usually, she doesn’t listen to the comments, to the pundits, to the assholes. She tries to stay away from that because it will drive her into a deep state of negativity, but lately, it’s like she can’t get enough of listening to what people say about her as if it is going to give her some kind of insight to her game.

She doesn’t crave their validation, but maybe, in a twisted way, she does.

“She gave birth sixteen months ago,” Mary Jo sighs. “She came back a year after giving birth. She is not going to be who she was before she had a child. The fact that she’s won enough this year to be in the top ten is amazing when she started with no ranking since there are no tour protections for maternity leave. She’s a champion, and sometimes champions struggle as they get their form back.”

“Sixteen months is a long damn time,” Patrick says, and Emma’s vagina would beg to differ. “She should be back to how she was or she shouldn’t be playing.”

“Have you given birth, Patrick? Because unless you have, I don’t think you get a say.”

“It’s my job to say what I think.”

“Still, I think – ”

The television clicks off, and Emma’s gaze finds its way back to David. “We’re not listening to them. It’ll piss you off. Mary Jo is right. You’re doing amazing, and I don’t want you to forget that.”

Emma doesn’t know if she’s doing amazing, doesn’t feel that way a lot of the time. This job is hard enough, to kill your body while also having the eyes of the world on you, but adding in a baby? It’s nearly impossible. A few other women have done it before her, not all with spectacular returns or returns at all, and she wants to keep getting better and play for long enough that Olivia will be able to see her mom play and remember it.

She’s not just doing it for herself. She’s doing it for her daughter, whose entrance into the world was unplanned, terrifying, and the best damn thing to ever happen to Emma even if she doubts herself in motherhood every day.

“I miss her,” Emma whispers to David, reaching up to play with her necklace, Olivia’s initials engraved in the gold circle. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it two more weeks without seeing her.”

“Do you want me to get Mary Margaret to FaceTime you with her? They’ve been watching your match at home.”

“No, no.” She shakes her head and releases the pendant, her resolve back as she inhales and focuses on her job. “Let’s do the rest of my recovery and talk about the match. I’ll call them when we get back to the hotel. I don’t want to get my mind too much out of the game.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

-/-

She wins her next match. And the next.

She loses in the final.

It stings more than her losses usually do, and there have been a hell of a lot of them, but she wanted to win another premiere event. She’s only been winning small events so far this year and making it to the later stages of the bigger events, but she keeps falling short when it’s time for her to push herself over the limit. Emma knows that her time will come, but she’s exhausted.

-/-

She flies to Rio with the rest of the American team who were playing in Montreal and Toronto, and she sleeps the entire ride down.

It’s the most sleep she’s gotten since she gave birth.

-/-

The 2012 Olympics felt familiar for Emma. The matches happened at Wimbledon, a place she’s known since she was sixteen years old and has watched on TV since she was even younger than that. Tennis players were isolated from the rest of the sports and events, and they all stayed in their usual rented houses and apartments instead of the Village or other hotels. Rio is different and completely unfamiliar. She’s staying in the Village, and while the amenities aren’t the best, the spirit of the Games are everywhere. She’s seeing athletes she’s only ever seen on TV before, meeting dozens of people whose names quickly slip out of her mind no matter how hard she tries to keep them there, and it’s impossible not to get excited to see all of these great athletes gathered together.

When she was a kid sitting in a foster home with David, the two of them wondering if they’d ever have a forever home, they would watch reruns of the Olympics on the TV, just waiting for the live ones to come around. It was an escape to get to watch people only a few years older than them doing these great things, and even after Ruth adopted them and paid for them to play sports, they never could have imagined being here.

Emma, sitting on a park bench outside with prestigious gymnasts walking in front of her, still can’t imagine it, and she’s literally here.

“Am I allowed to sit here or is that considered fraternizing with the enemy?”

Emma glances up and sees Killian Jones already sliding onto the bench in front of her. He’s darker than the last time she saw him in person, his hair longer, teeth possibly whiter, and he definitely hasn’t shaved in a few too many days. But the cocky, almost a little too arrogant, smile is the same, and even if she said no, he would still sit across from her. She knows him well enough to know that now.

“As far as I’m aware, you’re not playing mixed doubles, so I don’t think you count as an enemy.”

“Ah, but, love, Americans and Brits have been enemies since the beginning. That doesn’t change here.”

“Everyone else gets along. You’re just a competitive ass.”

“Indeed I am.” He wiggles his brows and leans forward, smirk stretched across his lips. “So, I was handed a bag full of Olympic-themed condoms when I checked in. Would you like to go try them out?”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, kicking his leg. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Too many things to count.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, muscles ever-so-slightly bulging underneath his Team Great Britain t-shirt. She’s wearing a similar one with USA emblazoned in the biggest font she’s ever seen. Not a lot of subtly going on at the moment. “Where’s Ruby? David? Any of the other Americans? Shouldn’t you all be eating or practicing or doing something besides sitting on a bench by the water?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Touché, Swan. Touché. Will and I were on the way to eat, but I saw you and got distracted. I don’t have practice until later. Rob is forcing me to give myself a break so I don’t exhaust myself after Toronto.”

“Well, you do have old bones.”

“Oi, I am thirty-two and at the top of my game. How many people can say that?”

“Anyone who is not an athlete.”

Killian shrugs and tilts his head to the side, rolling his shoulders. He’s right, though. Killian is playing better than he ever has. He’s always been good ever since he was touted to be Great Britain’s next big thing. She watched for years as the British media slagged him off for not having won Wimbledon despite having won the other majors two times around, but six years ago, he won after a five-hour, grueling match and fell onto the ground. The image was everywhere, and now, every time she’s in London or Wimbledon, that image lines the walls. It’s how she felt when she won the US Open. All of the major are special, but winning your home one, if you’re lucky enough to have one, is something else. And now Killian is world number one once more, has won two majors in a row with several premiere events in between, and with his form, she can’t imagine him losing.

But that’s why you lace up the sneakers. You never know what’s going to happen.

She’s been around the game long enough to know that.

Killian too.

Their paths have crossed for years, mostly because they have the same sponsors and do a lot of promotional events together, but the more they both started winning, the more they’d see each other at tournaments and dinners and everything in between. It’s a busy life, and while there’s time to make friends outside of tennis, sometimes it’s easier to find people in the industry.

She’s not entirely sure she would call Killian Jones a friend.

“Have you eaten, love?” he asks.

“Not yet.” On cue, her stomach growls, and he smirks, not that he really stopped.

“Why don’t you come with me? You can sit with us before we take the bus to the courts for training.”

“What happened to fraternizing with the enemy?”

He leans forward and winks. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

Emma laughs but nods and stands with Killian as they walk to the main dining hall. It’s packed, the room echoing with conversation and laughter, and Emma and Killian are stopped several times to take pictures and sign autographs, something she will never get used to, before they sit down with Will, Rob, and several other plays from all around the world. For a minute, it’s like they’re in their usual bubble that they live in for the rest of the year with only tennis players around, but then Emma sees Usain Bolt walk by and she knows they’re not.

This is weird.

This is wonderful.

This is almost everything.

-/-

The Opening Ceremonies are long and sometimes boring, and she hates the outfit she has to wear, but she doesn’t know if she’ll get to do this again in four years so she savors it.

She savors it all, walking side by side with Ruby, Ashley, and Anna, and she takes all of it in before her mind switches to work-mode as she runs through her opponent for her first match. The nerves have been pushed down in favor of the experience, but they’re back and in full-force.

She cannot lose in the first round.

-/-

She doesn’t. -/-

She doesn’t lose her next few matches either.

-/-

Emma’s made it to the quarterfinals in both singles and doubles with Ruby after several days of long matches and struggling to see the ball – whoever thought making a fully green court with green side walls for tennis has obviously never played tennis, and she never wants to play on center court again – and she knows she’s one win away from guaranteeing that she plays in a medal-winning match.

It’s a relief and pressure all at once, something she’ll never grow used to, and as the sun sets and the village begins to get loud, Emma sits on her balcony watching the fountains in the lake light up. Ruby is off with Mulan somewhere Emma would rather not know about and will probably not be back to their room until at least tomorrow morning if the look on Ruby’s face was any indication, so Emma thinks she might get a little time to sit down and breathe for a moment, watching different events on TV. She could go watch them, but she doesn’t think her legs will carry her there.

Until her phone buzzes with a text that she quickly answers, and not three minutes later, there’s a knock at her door.

Emma quickly opens it, pulling him inside, and Killian kicks the door closed behind him as he cups her cheeks and kisses her, long and slow but with enough heat simmering below the surface that Emma knows there could be a promise of more later.

She’s seen him nearly every day for the past week, but she’s missed him.

She’s missed this.

His mouth moves expertly over hers in a rhythm that’s been practiced to perfection, and she feels dizzy with his kiss and holds onto his hair to keep her standing up. The Brazilian summer air wafts through the room, coating it in a thick heat, but Emma doesn’t pay any attention to that as heat curls between her thighs, warming her more than the air ever could. Her legs ache from the match, her arms feel heavy, but Killian makes her forget those things as he lays her down on the bed and kisses every inch of her body, spending time with his dark head of hair buried beneath her thighs until she can no longer speak.

Until she can scarcely breathe as well.

She manages to laugh, though, when he pulls out one of the condoms that has the Olympics logo on it, and she and Killian makes jokes about it as he slides into her, a thick sheath of heat that she never gets used to. It’s slow at first, a gentle rocking that keeps her teetering on the edge, but their bodies are tired and worn, and soon, it’s a race to the finish line.

Emma comes in first, not that it matters.

(But it does feel good to beat him.)

(They’re both competitive asses.)

(Even when they shouldn’t be.)

After, they’re both slick with sweat that doesn’t go away as their bodies press together on the small twin bed. Emma almost wishes she had rented a house outside the village like David and some of the other coaches did, but she doesn’t want to give up the experience. And it’s fine, especially as Killian shifts behind her and lets her settle into him, her hips pressing back into his as his arm wraps around to rest on her stomach, fingers occasionally searching out for her breast.

Emma is exhausted, but this is the best she’s felt in weeks.

(She definitely couldn’t walk to any of the events now, and she did want to see Phelps swim.)

“You played bloody fantastic in your doubles match today.”

“Not my singles?”

“I played at the same time as you. I didn’t get a chance to watch.”

Emma hums and leans further back into him. She’s glad Killian did most of the work because just thinking about how much she’s got to move again tomorrow is making her sore. “I played well there too. Straight sets.”

“Atta girl.” His lips press into her neck, stubble scratching across the skin. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, that’s always dangerous.”

Killian laughs but nudges his knee into her, which really only settles his cock between her ass, but she’s too tired to think of doing anything else. “I’ve been thinking,” he continues, “that I’m going to withdraw from Cincinnati and fly home instead.”

“To London?”

“To Palm Beach. I think it might be nice to have a calm week between tournaments to spend time with my girlfriend.”

“Oh really? You’ll have to tell her your plan. I’m sure she’d like that.”

Killian tickles her stomach, making her squirm, before he lightly pinches her side. “Mhm. I thought we might also like to spend time with our daughter since FaceTime isn’t cutting it for me anymore. I swear she’s grown three feet since I last saw her.”

“Four, I think. She’s basically a full-grown adult now with all that walking and talking she’s doing.”

“Has she said any new words I’m not aware of?”

“Nope. She still can only say the three.”

“Good. I’m glad I didn’t miss anything else.” Killian kisses the side of Emma’s neck again, and she twists around, wrapping her arms around him and pressing their noses together as she stares into blue, blue eyes that aren’t diminished by the darkened room. “I think we should bring her to New York with us. Hopefully at least one of us will be there for three weeks, and that’s just too long to go without her.”

“We’re staying in a hotel in New York. In two separate suites, I might add.”

“But we don’t have to.”

“Killian…”

His hand brushes down her side, warmth permeating from the rough fingertips, before it rests on her hip, thumb moving in soothing circles. “I’ve already called and seen if they could give me the Penthouse. It’s an entire floor with private entrances and a private elevator. Our teams can stay with us or they can stay in the original suites we were designated. I know you bring her with you when you can and that I sneak in visits, but I want to be able to stay with my daughter.”

This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation, and if she doesn’t say yes to it, it won’t be the last.

Things between she and Killian are complicated. They’re relationship isn’t, not anymore. At first, she couldn’t stand him, thought he was genuinely this cocky asshole from the way he talked in matches and in off-court interviews, like he was God’s gift to the sport or something. Then they ended up both winning in Australia four years ago, and while doing press together, she saw a different, kinder side to him that she hadn’t previously seen when they worked together in Nike promotions.

Fast forward through a lot of early morning calls, late night rendezvous in their hotel rooms, and a heck of a lot of texts and FaceTime sessions, and somewhere along the way, the impenetrable Emma Swan fell in love with the impossible Killian Jones.

They kept it secret, the both of them knowing how vicious the media is to athletes that date each other, especially since Killian was going through a wrist injury that was somehow his fault according to the pundits and that he was getting hounded pretty hard at the time. They didn’t know if it was going to work, neither of them having stellar relationship records, but they figured eventually they would be okay with the world knowing.

Then came the positive pregnancy test, and Emma’s entire world shifted.

She was at the top of her game, at the top of her world, and as hard as it is for her to admit now, she didn’t want Olivia. She wanted to keep living her life the way it was. That was a possibility but not one she was willing to take, so she stopped playing but kept training as she and Killian figured out how they were going to do this.

They’re never home, rarely together, and they were both way out of their leagues. It would have been easier to tell the world they were together, that Killian was the father, but Olivia’s protection is worth more than their ease.

Now, though, looking at the crease between Killian’s brow and the sadness pooled in his eyes, she wonders if they’re doing the right thing.

“I know. I’m sorry. I – ” Emma’s lips quiver, and she nearly cries. She’s exhausted beyond belief and doesn’t know what to do, so she buries her face in Killian’s neck and wraps her arms around him. “Can we talk about this on the plane ride home?”

Emma says home as if they’re going to the same place after this. They’re not. But maybe she should listen to Killian and take the break she’s been craving.

“Aye, love, if that’s what you want.”

She nods and feels his lips ghost over the crown of her hair. “I want to lay here with you and not think about tennis or make hard decisions.”

“You want to talk about how bloody uncomfortable this bed is?”

Emma laughs. “It really makes you miss those awful ones in Paris.”

“You had to ask for a new one.”

“It was so worth it.”

-/-

They FaceTime Olivia in the morning. Mary Margaret has her in a matching outfit to Emma’s uniform, and Killian scoffs that she’s representing America instead of Great Britain.

Emma thinks it’s the best thing in the world, and it reminds her who she’s playing for.

It’s not for her country, not for herself. It’s for her daughter.

Their daughter.

-/-

The next two days drag by and yet she has a difficult time keeping up with them. Her practices are long, recovery longer as her shoulders are massaged and legs are iced, and Ruby has to drag her out onto the court for doubles when all she wants to do is sleep. She’s not used to playing this many matches in such a short period of time, and while having Ruby on court with her helps lessen how much she runs, her legs are still aching.

She’s almost to the finish line. She can make it.

“Those legs are too pretty for you to be dragging them like that,” Ruby jokes as they sit down during a changeover in the third set of their quarterfinal match. Emma reaches for her energy drink and takes a sip before biting into a banana while Ruby shakes her legs.

“I can’t make them move.”

“Yes, you can,” Ruby insists. “You already won your singles today, and we’re four games away from winning this match. I will kick your ass if we don’t win this.”

“Can you kick my ass if it’s already kicked?”

“I can indeed.” Ruby pats Emma’s knees and smiles. “Come on, hot mama. We’ve got this.”

And it’s tough, but they do.

Emma and Ruby go through recovery, and when Emma checks her watch, she sees that Killian’s match is just about to start.

“Do you want to get a bus across the grounds and go watch swimming?” Ruby asks her as David massages her calf. It’s not his job, so he obviously can’t stop complaining about doing it.

“I think I want to watch Killian’s match. Can we get seats in the stadium? Is his box empty?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” David asks her as her muscle spasms.

“If we all go, it won’t be suspicious. He’s playing Sam, so they might think we’re supporting the Americans.”

“Aren’t we?”

Her eyes roll. “Not in this situation. Come on. Text Rob and see if we can get into Killian’s box.”

David levels her with a stare, and she knows he’s going to say no, that it’s a bad idea. But then he releases her leg and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

They end up going still dressed in their match clothes, and Emma puts on a sweatshirt, a cap, and sunglasses to hide herself as much as possible. She knows it won’t work considering she’s literally wearing the outfit she has worn all week, but she can at least try. It’s been years since she’s gotten to watch one of Killian’s matches from somewhere other than the locker room or her hotel room, and she’s missed the magic of watching him play. He’s fluid with his motions, even if they are slower than they used to be, and his groundstrokes are powerful from the baseline. She knows from the moment that she sits down that he’s winning this match. She can tell by the way he’s carrying himself and the determination in his eyes. She grabs her phone and snaps a picture just as he looks her way, brow raised in question but a smile on his lips.

-/-

Killian wins his match, and she finds him in the tunnel afterward, his team creating a wall around them, and wraps her arms around him, not caring that they are both disgustingly sweaty or around other people.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“And I you.” The corner of his lips brush against her temple. “You’re amazing, Emma. Bloody amazing.”

“You too, my love.”

-/-

Emma wins the semifinals of both of her matches.

Killian wins his.

They’re both playing in gold medal matches – Emma definitely brags about how she’s playing two while Killian is only playing one – and she wants to vomit.

Holy shit.

-/-

“Say hi to your mommy,” Mary Margaret tells Olivia as Olivia keeps smacking her hand on the screen. “Your mom and dad are there trying to talk to you, Livvie.”

Emma leans her head onto Killian’s shoulder as they both stare into the screen waiting for Olivia to move her hand. She does with some help from Mary Margaret, and then bright green eyes show up. She has Emma’s eyes and dirty blonde hair that’s thick and wavy, but everything else about her screams Killian, especially her smile. Emma has missed that smile.

“Hello, little love.” Killian waves and tries to get her attention, but she couldn’t care less. “Don’t you want to talk to us?”

She makes a noise that isn’t a word, and Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m sorry. She’s been asking about you two, but now that you’re there, she doesn’t care. I tried to tell her what a big deal the two of you were, but she doesn’t care.”

“I’ll have to tell her how incredible her mother is later. She’s going to be the first women to win two singles golds in a row as well as the first mum to do it. And she’s going to have two more medals than me. Showing me up in every category.”

“That’s assuming you win, Jones. I could have three more gold medals than you.”

“I do love a challenge.”

Olivia starts giggling, Emma’s favorite noise on the planet, and she tries to memorize it to keep with her always. She knows Killian does too.

-/-

Emma’s gold medal matches are the day before Killian’s, and she’s jealous he gets a day off to rest. He tells her he’s going to spend the entire time training, sneaking in and out of other events, and watching her matches. She rolls her eyes at his texts because she’s sure he won’t have time to do all of that.

And yet he does.

She sees him in the stands during her doubles match. Ruby points him out when they’re in the middle of discussing serving spots, and Emma laughs at her calling him “lover boy” in a horrible British accent. She always calls him a ridiculous name, and of the few people who know of Emma’s private life, she’s glad Ruby is one of them.

Even if she’s still laughing and double faults on an important point.

It doesn’t matter, though, because within an hour and fifteen minutes, their shortest match of the tournament, she’s on the court’s floor with Ruby sobbing because they won a fucking gold medal.

She gets so little time to savor it, however, because the medal ceremony happens so quickly that she can barely take It all in. She also has press to do, and David has to practically force her into the media room where she and Ruby are hounded with more questions than congratulation as they clutch onto their medals. Ruby handles it like the pro she is while Emma’s nerves start to get the best of her as more people start talking about what she has on the line.

To be the first man or woman to win two gold singles medals in consecutive Olympics.

To win another gold medal for her country.

To be the first mother since Clijsters to win a major tournament.

To win her first big tournament since her comeback.

To have the possibility to win another gold medal in Tokyo in four years if she’s still playing.

It’s a lot, and she knows it. She’s been thinking about all of it every day this week, and her track record of choking in finals lately is pushing at the forefront of her mind.

She doesn’t know if she can do it.

And yet she does.

She laces up her sneakers, pulls her hair back, and takes a deep breath as she blocks everything out of her mind except for her game plan. She knows how the game is played. She’s been playing since she was twelve years old, and even though that’s a late start compared to most people, it’s gotten her here.

Emma walks out of the tunnel as her name is announced over the speakers, and even though all she can hear is the cheer of the crowd, she lets her mind go back to Olivia’s laugh, Killian’s smile, David’s pep talk, Ruby’s ridiculous texts. She thinks of all the things that push her when she wants to stop, and she reminds herself that no matter what happens, she’s done her best.

She could have given up the moment the stick said “pregnant.” She could have packed it all in, but she didn’t. She’s here, and she’s better than any excuse she could come up with not to be.

People have tried to tell her who she is her entire life, but she’s pushed back and said, “no, this is who I am.” Emma still has to do that now, no matter how many times she has proven herself.

The ice bath in Montreal where she wanted to quit seems years away when it was only eight days.

-/-

Emma looks to Ruby then David then Killian as she takes a deep breath on match point. Killian smiles and gives her a subtle nod, and then she raises the ball in the air, ready to toss it.

-/-

Game. Set. Gold freaking medal.

-/-

Afterward, she falls to the ground, her knees aching as they hit the asphalt, and her body can’t stop shaking with her sobs. She doesn’t know what she feels or how she feels or even where she is, and she only gets up from the ground when she hears her family calling for her. She slowly rises from the ground, runs across the court to congratulate her opponent on playing a good match, and then she’s running to the stands and climbing up with David’s help. She embraces him first. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. he’s been her rock for her entire life, and he keeps her steady. Then it’s her physio and her agent and Ruby. Then, over to the side, is Killian, and their conversation from a few nights ago comes back to her.

She loves him. She’s proud to be with him. They shouldn’t have to hide their family anymore.

They haven’t exactly been doing a good job of it this week anyway.

So Emma very literally pounces on him, her legs wrapping around his waist, before she remembers that he has a match tomorrow. She can’t miss his back up. He’d never let it go if she did. Her feet fall to the ground, but her arms stay wrapped around Killian’s neck as he whispers words of encouragement and congratulations that she’s always going to keep close to her heart, right next to the necklace with the initials O-S-J on them.

Two people thousands of miles apart were brought together by chances, a whole myriad of them. If Ruth hadn’t adopted Emma and David, they never would have picked up a racket. If Emma had never picked up a racket, she wouldn’t have found her purpose in this world. She wouldn’t have a job or a daughter or a man who loves her in spite of how hard she is to love. There was so much that could have derailed her, both good and bad, and while she could say none of it matters, in some way, it all does.

Because it led her here.

And she doesn’t want to be anywhere else even if she would give anything to be able to hug Olivia right now.

“You did so good, Swan,” Killian whispers, his voice the only one she hears.

“I know.”

He pulls back, and there are tears in his eyes that mirror her own. “So, I guess I have to win tomorrow so your bragging rights don’t get too big.”

“Oh, Jones, you are never catching up with me now,” she teases, all of the exhaustion melting away. “I’m miles ahead of you, but you better win. Olivia doesn’t need to be embarrassed by her dad.”

“Pretty sure that’s my job.”

“Right now, your only job is to help me back down onto the court and then go win yourself a gold medal.”

“Don’t tell the presses you’re rooting for a Brit.”

Emma shrugs as Killian thumbs away tears underneath her eyes. “I don’t care anymore, and I’m definitely going to be sitting in your box tomorrow, cheering louder than anyone else.”

-/-

When Killian wins the next night after a torturous four hours, his fall is almost identical to Emma’s. Though, when he climbs into the stands to get to the box, he immediately goes for Emma, cupping her cheeks and kissing her for the entire world to see.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to embarrass our daughter in another way.”

“I think her parents making out on international TV might do just that.”

-/-

Two days after they get home – they spent the entire first day sleeping and holding Olivia – Emma puts on her three gold medals, Killian puts on his one, and they hold Olivia in between them, her toothy smile brighter than the gold as the photo is taken.

Olivia Swan-Jones has a pretty cool mom and a dad who has some catching up to do in the gold medal department.

It’s Emma’s most liked picture on Instagram, not that she cares about any of those things, and it’s the biggest news story for three days straight despite the literal Olympics still happening.

All Emma cares about, though, is that she has a week off – she opted out of Cincinnati after all, despite David’s protests – she can spend with her family before she and Killian are off to New York where the pressure will be the highest it’s ever been and the media will most likely be losing their shit over Emma and Killian’s announcements.

Olivia will be with her, Killian too, and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Oh, that, and the fact that Emma Swan is officially back, and it feels damn good.

-/-

-/-

Thanks for reading, my friends! Can’t wait for those 2021 Olympics 🤞and learning about sports I’ve still somehow never heard of. And if you want to talk to me about tennis, I’m fully here to talk about Rafael Nadal’s biceps and how his game is underrated despite being one of the most dominant athletes of all time 💚😂

[dakotafoster]

Werewolf Bakugou x reader!! I’d like it if there was a lot of his wolf form!! Maybe the reader is a mage as well!! Perhaps there’s a war happening and they got separated in the midst of battle and one gets slightly injured. I know you said no gore. Sorry this is so all over the place!!

Thank you for requesting! This is my first request on this blog and I tried my best with this one-shot to meet it to your expectations so I hope you like it ♡ I went for a sort of forbidden fantasy love narrative if that’s alright.

ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ

ραιяιиg : werewolf! katsuki bakugou x fem! mage! reader

ɢɛռʀɛ : fluff, a tiny bit of angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs : none

աօʀɖ ƈօʊռȶ : 4.2k

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : Amidst a raging war between your fellow sorcerers and the Werewolves, you find yourself unexpectedly in love with their Alpha.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

It was an absolute nightmare. It was not how you wanted to use the gifts you had been given, you didn’t want this. Your refused to use your grandmothers teaching of spells and magic for carnage and murder, you wanted to help and save, to nurture those who could not help themselves. You had been sent to fight a pointless war, driven by null excuses. Dragged and thrown into confrontation by your father and mother, who seemed to care little or not at all about your say in the matter. Everyone in your village, every sorcerer and mage believed that such beasts shouldn’t exist, that lycanthropy was nothing more than a demon’s stunt to lure you to Hell, going so far as to say their leader or Alpha was their term, was the embodiment of Lucifer himself.

You on the other hand, you thought that they were a misunderstood species. You wished to simply understand them, to perceive their culture and recognize them for who they truly are. Not based on some silly rumor to terrify children into being proper. You abandoned your family and left to start a life of your own, where you had the privilege to make your own choices. Though, nothing went according to plan. Third night of being in complete solitude, with nothing but the faint pale light of a full moon to keep you company, you had found yourself surrounded by beasts of the night. Ghouls and vampires alike, all frothing at the mouth like rabid animals.

You were sure you had met your maker, when out of the same obscurity appeared a small pack of wolves. Leaping from the wilderness both beautiful and utterly massive. Your saviors had either chased or mauled your captors, only when they turned to you snarling and barking you began to realize your relief was short-lived. At the head of the band, an enormous golden wolf with pearly grand canines and vibrant scarlet eyes. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at how bulky he was compared to the other wolves surrounding him, and how gorgeous he looked under the silver moon. His frame hunched as he gradually made his way toward you, lips pulled back with a thunderous snarl.

“W-Wait! Please!”

Your voice was hoarse with dehydration, your body shivered from the bitting cold and eyes swollen with how many tears you had shed throughout the whole night. You didn’t want to die like this, you refused to give up, even if you were far to frail to fight back. Your prayers must’ve been answered because before the blonde creature could pounce, a second voice boomed from afar.

“Bakugou wait.”

A crimson brute stepped around the blonde and stood in front of your trembling form. His audits pulled back in a pleading manner. Bakugou—was his name— was far from pleased.

“Move aside now Kirishima. Do not make me ask again. She’s a fucking wizard, she has to die.”

“Bakugou look at her, she’s dying. There’s no way she could cast a simple spell without killing herself. Spare her and let us help her.”

Bakugou sneered at his right hand man. Deep down he knew he had a valid reason, and when he peeked around his friends shoulder. You looked horrible, your clothes barely clinging to your rather boney frame, and you appeared to be severely malnourished. He couldn’t help but feel small pang of remorse just with a short glance.

“Please Bakugou, She needs help. Don’t be the monster they say you are. Prove them wrong.”

His scowl worsened, enraged by the Beta’s comment and his pack mates hostile and dissatisfied with the cardinal male. He jumped the at the male, puffing out his chest in a dominating manner and gave him a throaty growl. “You think I give a shit? Let them think what they want of me. Merciful or not, I’m doing it to protect you and the damn pack. My answer is final. No.” With a final snap of his jaws at Kirishima he turned his back on him, a deafening bark commanding the additional wolves to follow.

“No! I beg of you don’t leave! P-please..!”

The Alpha froze. Audits no longer dragged behind him in irritation but now rather set vertically upon his heavy cranium, clearly interested at the sound of your abused voice.

“I-I’ll help your pack. I can use my magic for harvest, livestock. I-I can heal your comrades! I’ll do anything! Just please... Don’t l-leave me to rot away here...” The other wolves became suddenly interested at your proposal, giving each other quick glimpses in question to whether or not you were trust worthy. Even so it was eerily silent with nothing but the weak chirps of crickets filling the void. For a moment everything seemed to freeze before Bakugou promptly padded toward your paltry physique, large paws mere centimeters from you when you felt his hot exhale on your cheeks. You gazed up at him locking into those bloody visionaries, pupils nothing but thin slits.

“Mark my words sorcerer. Attempt anything to harm me or my pack, and I’ll leave you to vampires to properly feast on. Do I make myself clear?” The emphasis he used on each word sent chills down your arms leaving you covered in goosebumps. You hastily nodded, receiving nothing but a firm grunt. Bakugou swiveled around once more and turned his attention to Kirishima, getting uncomfortably adjacent with his companion and repeating the same actions he had done with you.

“And you will be held accountable.”

Without so much as a second glance he sauntered away, his intimidating aura and the other wolves following along behind him. Kirishima assisted you as you climbed onto his woolly back and silently rested while you both made your way to what seemed to be a lions den. The clan was hostile and cruel towards you, you were certain that Bakugou would throw you to them like a damn bone once he was through with you.

You would have laughed if fate told you he would mark you as his mate and lover just weeks later.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Bakugou!”

You and Katsuki both bolted from slumber at the frantic yelp coming from outside the cozy teepee, small flickers of the flame lanterns shone through. You looked over at Bakugou who was adorned with nothing but coal cotton trousers, and you in a simple nightgown. He caught your gaze with tired yet alarmed optics, molding his large calloused palm into your slim silky hand tenderly. Giving your fingers a gentle squeeze he swiftly removed the fur blankets from his body and made his way to the the broad curtain and heaved it open. Revealing a bruised and evidently exhausted Kirishima, you and Katsuki gazed wide eyed at the male. It only took you a second to quickly scamper to your lovers side. Katsuki grabbed a hold of the red-head’s arm, who you now had the privilege to call a dear friend. “Kirishima? What the hell happened to you?”

“Bakugou... It’s the sorcerer’s village. They’ve come. Oh god Bakugou... They have killed so many of our own.”Kirishima wailed, heaving feeling as though his lungs would collapse any second. Your heart seemed to be running a marathon in your chest, terrified for what was to come between your former folk, your former family. Katsuki growled lowly, pivoting on his heel aggressively and stomping his way to seize his fiery red cloak. You sweat dropped with every action he took, you felt like bauling your eyes out when you came to the awareness of what Katsuki was going to do. He was making his past you before you roughly grasping his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

What a stupid question. You knew better than to be so simpleminded. You knew exactly what he was planning, but you wouldn’t let yourself believe it for even a second. The look he gave you said it all, it let you know that you were at the point where you could lose him. He was at his wits end with this war, and he was going to put an end to it once and for all. Even if it meant laying down his own life. You sobbed, squeezing his wrist impossibly tighter, praying that if you did he wouldn’t be able to leave, to leave you behind. Katsuki released a shaky sigh, he let himself incline down to your level and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. It was short, but by the way his eyes were clenched shut you could see he was resisting the urge to ravish himself in your beauty. He exhaled through his nose, nostrils flared when he turned away from you, lips tight lipped as he began to regain composure. He refused to meet your scrutiny, afraid that if he examine your beauty for a second longer he would have second thoughts.

“I love you (y/n). Please forgive me.”

“...What?”

He untangled his wrist from your sweaty palms, his once raging stare occupied with nothing but heartache and heavy sorrow. That all disappeared when he met Kirishima’s optics with a scowl and a stern nod. You trembled when you watched Katsuki clap his grip onto Kirishima’s shoulders, the former stumbling slightly at the impact.

“Take her as far away from here as you can, and if I don’t come back... You take care of my girl you hear me?” His profound voice trembled, and as soon he received a nod of affirmation from his friend he turned his back on him and you. Without so much as a sparing glance, and your heart dropped 50 feet below you.

“No! Katsuki no!”

You whimpered. You instantly made a run for your lover but before you get too far Kirishima grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled to back whilst you writhed in his arms, howling and sobbing after Katsuki.

“No! No! Let me go Kirishima! Let me go! Katsuki come back! KATSUKI! ”

Tears flowed your face without remorse, your throat ached as you screamed at the figure that disappeared into the trees, the silver beam of moonlight that broke through the tree line outlined powerful structure splendidly. Kirishima whimpered beside you, struggling to persevere in keeping you back as you howled and weeped after his friend. You eventually fell limp in his grasp, too weak to resist him any longer and only containing the energy to wail in agony. Kirishima’s knees wobbled, stifling his own cries he struggled to keep you upright and move. He failed. Falling to his knees all he could do now was mourn with you and whisper his apologies.

“Come.... We must leave before they get any closer.” Kirishima whispered after a few prolonged moments, his voice nasally and gruff. He carefully rose from his knees—which still trembled terribly— and grasped your elbows to assist you as well, but he froze when he saw he look on your face. An expression of renewed vigor and determination.

“(y/n)? What are yo—“

It was a plain graze to his bicep, but it was enough to send a sudden pulse through his body and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he fell limp. A simple sleeping spell you had learned at a young age, yet it’s effects last only 10 minutes before he would awaken.

“I’m sorry Kirishima. I refuse to run from this.” You scanned his unconscious form a moment, and made a mad dash into the trees in the direction you last saw Katsuki. The bare soles of your feet ached, sprinting over twigs and sharp rocks. You would only falter when you got deep enough into the forest in which you began to hear the howls and hollers of both man and wolf, occasional screams and yelps as well. You kept running until you found yourself in a large clearing at the mountain side, and just a couple meters ahead you could make out the shapes of some senior mages you knew and wolves who seemed to be outnumbering their foes quite drastically, but were at a disadvantage in terms of power.

Cautiously, you made your way around the commotion and squatting behind the thickets. you had been an apprentice under your grandmother to become a storm mage like her, but even if you knew some fairly powerful spells it wasn’t going to be enough to take on a handful of far more experienced sorcerers. Adrenaline flowing through your system, pounding about in your chest and head as you struggled to come up with a plan of action. Your legs throbbed but you couldn’t remain hidden forever, peered over the small sprigs and leaves to search for a specific golden canine.

It was moments before you finally spotted him, farther into the clearing he was evading the attacks of a elder mage. Large orbs of energy being thrown at the Alpha male proved futile when he practically sidestepped each one, and the sorcerer was growing quite frustrated and desperate. Katsuki was too occupied with the man in front of him he failed to noticed another approach him from behind, bright amber flames flickering across his palm and a devilish grin across his lips as he got increasingly closer to the Alpha. In a split-second you took one great leap from out of the vegetation and sprinted in his route, the adrenaline surges through your body so fast you could feel bile rise to your throat and the sailva thicken on your tongue. But not for a second did you hesistate, as you got closer you flexed your fingers, feeling a piercing heat spread from your fingertips to your forearms. Once you had gotten close enough you pounced and tackled the fire mage to the ground.

You both fumbled, twisting your body so you straddled the man and before he could counter you gripped his head between your hands and let an intense wave of electricity through your palms. The male in return shrieked, falling comatose in your grasp in mere seconds. You unfurled your fingers from his cranium, taking quick huffs and slowly standing to your feet. You gawked down at the mage, your muscles slightly sore and weak from the exertion.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

A booming growl broke your trance, pivoting on your heels to look at the wolf who marched toward you furiously, the elder sorcerer lay mutilated behind him. “You shouldn’t be here! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He snarled breathily, you appeared so frail in comparison to him, he towered over you even in his wolf form though he hunched over slightly to meet your (e/c) visionaries. You met his own crimson ones, completely livid. “You’re a fool if you really thought I’d let you turn your back on me like that. You’re a complete asshole!”

You pushed a finger to his woolly chest, your movements frantic as you hollered. Katsuki could only stand there dumbfounded, startled by your unexpected outburst. However he just wasn’t capable of resisting a smirk as you kept up your rambling about how selfish and moronic the ruffian was.

“Are you even listening to a single thing I’m saying Katsuki?” You finally ask and in response he unleashed a deep chuckle “Not a single word princess.” You growled and promptly pinched his blonde audit roughly which left Katsuki to jerk away from your grip with a small yelp. “What the fuck, you shitty woman?! The hell was the for? You know how much that shit hurts!”

You watched in amusement at such a dominant figure pussy away from a small nip, his ear now lopsided as he hopelessly to try and remove the stinging throb. You carefully amble toward him and seize his soft cheeks into your hands. “Because Katsuki, the fact that you sincerely thought you could just leave like that.. It breaks my heart. You do not get to abandon me once everything goes to shit, you chose me as your mate. I am not going to run, not from this and certainly not from you. Argue with me all you want, be a stubborn ass. I don’t care, I’m with you through it all.” You whisper, Katsuki huffed in defeat at your declaration and decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Threading your digits through the wild tufts of fur. Katsuki emitted a heavy purr at the action, his eyelids fluttered close.

His lids flew back open and his nostrils flared. The faint aroma of an unreleaved individual left him stiff, on instinct he sunk his canines into your night gown and launched you to the side. In an instant, all too familiar splinters of ice striked Katsuki head on, his form colliding violently at the base of a tree. “Katsuki!” You hollered after him, appalled at the motionless bundle of blonde laying in the fields of grass. You didn’t have the time to check if he was still alive when a figure stepped from the shadows.

“Mother?” You gaped at the woman in front of you, her once calm nature gone. She glares at you like an absolute savage, her mouth agape in a silent scream and her hands covered in frost from the use of her magic. Your mind all but clear, frozen to any movement you begged to take so all you could do was speak. “Mother.” you repeated and curled your lip, never had you thought you could so much resentment toward someone who had once meant so much to you, that was until now. Her scowl intensified at this, sneering in disgust as she began to circle you.

“Your judgement has been tainted by that demon! That... Devil! You’re not my daughter. My daughter would never allow herself to manipulated by such a beast. Allow me to be so kind and put an end to your misery!”

Her palms aimed toward you, a slew of words spilled from her lips and another wave of ice raced towards you. You still couldn’t move, and even if you could the rate the icicles we’re reaching you wouldn’t be able to evade it in time. On impulse, you raised your own hands. The same heat and prickles coarsing through your veins, and with your own mumbled words an enormous discharge of lightning boomed through the ice, tearing it in half and send shards flying all around you. The bolt of lightning didn’t seem to cease in momentum, charging rapidly toward your mother. All she could do was watch as the powerful fulmination surged toward her, and with a final screech it striked devastating blow to her chest. She soared backwards, her body disappearing back into the darkness of the forest. You stood triumphant, but in a great deal of pain.

Your arms where left severely burned and a furious red, the dull pounding made your head spin. Though you ignored the aching and immediately sprinted to Katsuki’s unconscious frame, small crystals of ice clung to his fur on the side of impact. As you neared his body you just about cried when you heard the heavy breaths that left his mouth, labored and raspy but a clear indication that he was still alive. You maneuvered tourist his large cranium upon your lap and assessed the damage done to him. You reached out to caress his coated chest, around the location the ice rammed into him. Katsuki began to whimper in response and you quickly retracted your hand. You choked on your sobs as you stared at him, you were far too weak to perform any healing spells on him. Even if you tried you would kill yourself before you would even be able to mend a single bone in his body. With that the tears broke out like water from a dam, you had never felt so powerless in your life, so weak. You knew you could’ve done more to insure his saftey but you simply were not strong enough.

Loud and boisterous howls sounded off behind you almost in a cheering manner in the direction of the clearing. You smiled crookedly, turning back to the wolf in your lap you cupped his cheeks once again threaded your insensate digits gingerly through the blonde pelt. “Katsuki, wake up. They did it. We did it. Wake up so you can see! Please..” You pleaded in a whisper to the unconscious male, fruitless attempts to soothe him through his suffering. Your heart clenched painfully with every passing second “I’m sorry Katsuki.. I’m so sorry..” You sounded like a fucking child , you were crying hysterically as you continued to observe your love’s trembling and broken form.

Thunderous pounding resonated behind you, gradually getting closer and without hesitation you roared in the direction of the sound.

“Over here! Katsuki’s badly hurt!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

His voice was as inticing as ever, his hand outstretched for you to take. You gave him a gentle smile and intertwined his fingers into yours, peering back to examine the three miniature silhouettes outlined by the candlight covered in pelt and wool blankets.

“They’ll be fine, they’re heavy sleepers.”

You snorted at this, rolled your eyes dramatically as Katsuki led out out of the comfortable teepee and into the woodlands. “I wonder where that got it from.” You squeezed his palm teasingly, Katsuki grumbled lowly in reply. He escorted you through the forest, the warm milky glow of the moon lighting the way. “Where are we going?” You finally asked, huddling into his side and nuzzling your cheek into his bicep . “Weren’t you ever told that patience is a virtue? We’re almost there.” He stated with a click of his tongue, his stride never stalled for a moment as he continued to lead you through the trees.

It was minutes when he then guided you through some brambles and bushes, and the sight you had been graced with was absolutely breathtaking. There you stood on a grassy cliff side by the sea, the ocean vast and wide. The waves boldly clapped against the boulders and stones below and wafted the briny aroma to your nostrils. You could almost taste the salt on your chapped lips, though that wasn’t even the best part. The Moon was the utter show-stopper. The Moon stood enormously in the sky, hovering just over the sea and seemed like a mere arm stretch away.

“Do you like it?” Katsuki broke your attention on the scene in front of you, tenderly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his firm chest. You found yourself so entranced with the view it was getting increasingly harder to focus on anything else. “It’s incredible Katsuki… I love it.” You murmured, tracing soft lines on the arms that trapped you and relaxing in his hold. He ran the tips of his calloused fingers up and down your hips “I’m glad. It’s called a Super Moon, it only happens every couple of years, and I’ve been planning to show you this for some time.” You cackled, giving a small pinch to the mucle on his right forearm. “Wow, I’m impressed Katsuki. Who knew you could be so romantic.” You could almost feel the blood rush to his face, a crimson tint decorating his handsome face. “Tch, shut up.. It’s just my way of saying thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” You brows furrowed in confusion, you focused your regard onto the the smooth ripples of the water. You felt Katsuki rest his chin on your dome, his pecs expanding on your shoulder blade when he sighed. “For everything. For saving me my ass, for giving me a couple of rebels for kids, and for loving me despite my reputation. You gave me something to live and strive for, so thank you.”

You grinned from ear to ear at his confession, biting your lip to suppress the intensity of your love for him. “I suppose I should be thanking you too. You gave me something to live for as well.” Katsuki gave a heavy chortle, leaning down slightly to indulge himself in your neck. His fiery breath against your artery sent tremors down your spine, nose nudging vertically up your collar.

Times changed, people along with it. His arrival in your life was unexpected and yet fulfilling to a great extent. You found each other in a place where darkness resides in, and together you and Katsuki illuminated a future you had both been blind to. You felt as though your eyes had been opened to new side of life. Surrounded in clarity, fullness and most of all, the beauty in love.

So you both stood embraced on the cliff side bathing in the pure rays of the Moon, who seemed to shine brighter than the brother Sun. Blessing the sky with her divine presence and joining the stars that freckled the black sky, the navy ocean acting as a mirror, reflecting the Moon flawlessly. She was the mother of the night sky, a goddess watching over every beating heart, because she is always there, close to our earth to keep us company while she can.

“I love you Katsuki.”

“I love you too princess.”

.•° ✿ °•.

“ тнe мoon тeacнeѕ υѕ тнaт darĸneѕѕ can’т нιde тнe вeaυтy oғ lιғe, ιғ we ĸnow нow тo reғlecт тнaт вeaυтy. “

- ᴅᴇʙᴀsɪsʜ ᴍʀɪᴅʜᴀ

╚═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╝

Tumblr really likes to test my patience (≧Д≦) I kept forgetting to save the draft and lost about 1,000 words each time, I honestly thought about deleting it out of frustration. That and I’m not really that proud with how it turned out. But here it is! Thank you for reading and requesting. You are more than welcome to leave feedback on my works. ♡

- 𝖑𝖎𝖟 ☾ ✩

𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 : (𝟔/𝟐𝟑/𝟐𝟎 - 𝟕:𝟓𝟖 𝐩.𝐦.)

[amphxtrite]

spencer reid x reader

chapter 2 • coffee or tea?

series summary: a new case brings the BAU to New York, investigating a string of murders involving girls who appear very similar. The unsub is relentless, desperate to fill the needs of his fantasy. In the midst of it, spencer meets the girl he been writing with, but had yet to see, prompting a love to blossom in the midst of the storm. Is disaster inevitable? Or will the duplicator’s rein fall?

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, murder, mainly fluff this chapter

chapter summary: the investigation continues, but the team is in dire need of rest after a late night of work. Spencer makes a call to the reader and a plan is put in place to meet, the only question Spencer will have to answer today is a simple one, coffee or tea?

taglist: @le-weasley-simp @thatsonezesty13 @paperandplasma @padsfirewhisky @clubfairy @kiramdd @peach-cliquee @goldeng1rl8​ (message/comment to be added)

word count: 5.7k

“Hotch here.” The unit chief’s voice states, raising his cell to his ear.

“Hey Hotch, this guy’s a romantic, he’s leaving roses and quotes from books at the scenes, we’ve found two already.” Rossi’s voice sounds through the phone.

“Roses? You don’t think-” 

“Yeah I do, he’s keeping them to try and make them fall in love with him.” Rossi sighs.

“But he’s angry, can’t handle the rejection for long.” Hotch finishes, nodding to himself. “Thanks Rossi, if you find anything else let me know.” He chimes, hanging up the phone and going to find JJ.

“Agent Hotchner!” A voice calls to the profiler, prompting him to turn.

“Yes that’s me.” He responds.

“Sorry, I’m Detective Dakota Trent, I’m also working on the case with Detective Kimathi, she’s just at the crime scene.” A brunette with close cropped hair greets the agent, shaking his hand.

“Good, have we come up with anything new yet?” Hotch asks, following Detective Trent to the interrogation rooms.

“Well we’ve talked to both Olivia’s fiancee and Georgia’s boyfriend. They’ve both got solid alibis and people to back up their claims, it’s not them.” Detective Trent shrugs.

“Have you heard about the roses yet?” Hotch questions, examining each of every person’s movements behind the glass.

“Yeah, Kimathi called me just before I found you, we’ve got a romantic serial killer?” They ask.

“What he’s experiencing probably isn’t love, it’d be impossible for him to feel it. My guess is this is an obsession over someone he’s lost or been rejected by.” Hotch explains. Detective Tent nods and points to another direction.

“Agent Jareau just finished interviewing Georgia’s family, you can find her through there.” They smile, Hotch thanks them and steps through.

The unit chief walks down a hallway and peers past each door until he finds the blonde sitting in an empty room; going over the case file again. 

“How are the families?” Hotch asks, stepping in.

“Torn apart.” JJ sighs, closing the file and leaning against the wall behind her. “Olivia’s mom just had enough in her to clear Alice, then she broke down into tears. Isabelle’s parents had it worse though; she was an only child, a miracle one too, her mother had troubles conceiving.” She continues. 

“And Georgia’s parents.” Hotch questions.

“Tried to be strong, but-” JJ pauses. “They could barely look at each other, let alone me.” She concludes sadly.

“Have any of them given any possible suspects?”

“Lots, mainly ‘strange’ ex boyfriends, but I had Garcia check them out and they’re clean.” The blonde shrugs, standing and following Hotch back out.

“They’ve given us a room to set up in, When Spencer gets back I want you to help him come up with a geographic profile.” Hotch nods, opening a door to a room filled with whiteboards and a large table.

“You got it, and maybe ask them to bring a coffee machine in, we’re gonna be up for a while.” JJ giggles, opening the case file again and placing the pictures of each scene up on the whiteboard.

“Hey we’re back from the ME, toxicology found ketamine in both victim one and two.” Prentiss states, opening the door to the board room with Spencer in tow.

“But not victim number three, does that mean he’s devolving?” JJ questions.

“Or she was a victim of opportunity, he couldn’t pass up the chance so he took her.” Spencer includes, shrugging his shoulders, and taking a seat next to JJ after seeing the map in front of her.

“Again it’s hard to know, but Morgan and Rossi found flowers at two of the dump sites so far.” Hotch tells Prentiss and Reid.

“Flowers?” Emily asks.

“A note too, some quotes about finding true love, we’re hoping you could help us with them kid.” Rossi suddenly chimes from behind the group, seeming disgusted at the thought of it. “We found the third one by the way, hidden in some bushes by the bridge.” 

“What did the cards say, Rossi?” Spencer questions, removing his gaze from the map.

“The first one said ‘I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life.’ Second one said ‘He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.’ Third one said ‘Do I love you? My god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.” Rossi lists reading off his tablet.

“All of those have to do with love alright, this unsub is absolutely infatuated with the idea of finding his true love.” JJ notes, looking at her own tablet.

“Maybe this unsub has some form of erotomania? Thinking all these girls love him, so he kidnaps them only for them to ruin his fantasy?” Derek suggests, fiddling with a pen in his hands.

“It would make sense why he’s keeping the girls only to kill them, and why they’re fed while he’s holding them.” Prentiss adds, looking to Spencer who looks deep in thought..

“Well now that we know more let’s get to work, we’ll deliver the profile in the morning so every officer can hear.” Hotch states, glancing out the window at the sky which had faded to an eerie black.

“I’ve got it!” Spencer suddenly exclaims. The team looks to him curiously.

“The first quote was from Atonement by Ian McEwan, the second quote was from Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, and the last one was from The Princess Bride by William Goldman!” He explains, standing from his seat and writing each quote on the whiteboard.

“These are all famous quotes about love, some of my favourite books too. This unsub is educated, definitely enough to read classic literature-”

“Wait Spence, the other two I can get, but you’ve read The Princess Bride?” JJ asks, excitement lacing her tone.

“Um yes, I saw it at the library so I decided I’d read it.” Spencer murmurs, turning to the whiteboard again to hide the hitch in his voice. The truth was it was another book you had practically begged him to read, he couldn’t say no. Spencer would have never guessed it would have aided him in a case.

“Oh Spence, I love that book too, you should come over and watch the movie with me and Henry, I’ve been meaning to show him.” JJ continues.

Spencer sighs in relief. “Yeah that sounds good JJ.”

---

“You’ve got to be joking.” A tired voice chimes from outside the door.

Hotch glances up at the voice, JJ inhales deeply as she wakes up, Prentiss and Spencer both take long sips from their coffee cups and Derek snores in his seat.

“Can we help you Detective Trent?” Hotch asks, turning to face them. Dakota doesn’t miss the dark bags under the unit chief’s eyes.

“Yes as a matter of fact, go to sleep!” Dakota smiles in a sickly sweet manner.

“I don’t think-”

“They’re right Hotch, you know we aren’t much help dead tired.” Rossi practically pleads.

“I could use some solid food too.” Emily adds, swirling around what remained of her fourth cup of coffee that night.

“You guys have a hotel for a reason, pretty much every other officer is either patrolling or at home, get some rest and we’ll see you in the morning.” Dakota smirks, waving the team off and heading towards the exit.

Hotch sighs and rubs his eyelids, feeling the relief of closing them before opening them again.

“Derek, Derek wake up!” JJ mutters, tapping on Morgan’s shoulder until he finally slumps forward, awake.

“Is it morning yet?” He grumbles.

“No, but we’re heading to the hotel now, and getting food.” JJ smiles, watching Derek perk up at the mention of something to eat. “What’s everyone in the mood for?” She asks, turning to everyone.

“M’ good with anything.” Rossi yawns, leaning against the door frame.

“There’s a shawarma place close to the hotel?” Spencer proposes, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the joint.

The team nods in agreement, shaking the tiredness off to walk back to the hotel.

Spencer enjoyed moments like this, when his team didn’t have to focus on a case for just a few moments, where he could let his mind rest for a minute.

“Hey player, meet any lovely New York ladies yet?” Derek chuckles throwing his arm over Spencer’s shoulder.

Scratch that, this is not what he had in mind.

“Nope.” He responds plainly.

“Right, right… What about that lady you’ve been writing too?” Derek teases, watching Spencer avert his gaze to the sky.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He murmurs. Derek’s smile grows.

“A mystery woman, Spencer I didn’t think you had it in you? Is she older? Rich maybe?” Derek lists playfully as Spencer rolls his eyes.

“Sorry Derek, maybe you’re just thinking too much.” Spencer shrugs, digging his hands into his pockets and sighing.

“Alright, I’ll back off.” Derek sighs, lifting his hands in mock surrender, only half telling the truth.

“Take a left here.” Spencer nods, pointing to a dimly lit building. “The shop is down there.” Spencer nods.

“I’ll go with the genius, you guys head back to the hotel.” Derek says, waving off the tired agents as he pushes Spencer forward towards the store. 

“Hey Morgan, do you mind if I call Garcia, I’ll meet you inside.” Spencer smiles as they reach their destination. 

Derek thinks nothing of it and nods, turning to swing open the door and order.

Spencer sighs and glances to both sides before turning and walking in the direction of the payphone. He had chosen this spot not only for convenience sake, but because there was a payphone right outside. It had been a while since Spencer had heard from you, and he felt bad not being able to read your letters.

Taking a deep breath he steps into the phone booth and dials your number.

“Thank you for subscribing to Lynn’s cat shop. Would you like to hear a fact about cat paws?” Your distinct voice chimes from the other end of the line.

“Well I do already know quite a bit, but hit me.” Spencer jokes back, smiling when he hears your audible gasp.

“Dr. Reid!” You laugh, sitting up straight from your lying position in bed.

“Hey what happened to cat facts?” Spencer teases gently, leaning against the side of the booth.

“I thought it was a spam call!” You justify, looking at the number again. “Hey Doc, this is a New York number-” You say slowly, putting two and two together. “You’re here! Are you on a case?”

“Yes actually.” Spencer replies with a soft smile. 

“Is it about that ‘duplicator’ guy I’m seeing on the news?”

“Yes, but don’t worry we’re doing well with the profile, and he’s only killing people that fit his victimology.” Spencer reassures you.

You remain quiet for a moment.

“Y/n? Are you still there?” Spencer asks, eyebrows drawing together at your sudden silence.

“Oh yeah, s-sorry Doc. Hey if you’re up for it, we could- meet up?” You ask, turning the conversation and popping the ‘p.’

“O-Oh.” Spencer stammers, caught off guard by your sudden proposition. “I-I mean I do have to work on the case…” Spencer sighs.

“But?” You plead, leaning into your phone.

“I can meet you earlier? Six am maybe?” Spencer offers quietly, feeling his voice break.

“Ooh you’re pushing it Doctor Reid, but I’ll manage.” You tease.

“Great! Great, um where do you want to meet?” Spencer asks, relief showing through his voice.

“There’s a park beside campus, my favourite spot is the field beside the cafe.” You smirk, dropping a not-so subtle hint.

“I-I’ll be there! Yeah See you then!” Spencer mutters in an excited tone.

“Sounds like a plan. Bye Spence!” You say in a sing-song voice before hanging up.

There it was again, Spence. No matter how many times he’s heard his name before, there was something special about you saying his name. Something that made him feel good.

“Spence…” He murmurs to himself, hanging the phone up and walking into the shawarma shop.

“Bout time pretty boy, what were you even calling about.” Derek asks, as he takes a bite from his wrap.

“Just checking if forensic found anything on the flowers yet.” Reid lies coolly.

“Anything?” Derek says in a muffled voice, throwing a wrap to the brunette.

“Not yet.” Spencer says in a slight yelp, just catching it before it falls.

“Oh well, it’ll probably be there in the morning.” Derek shrugs, picking up the bagged wraps. “Thanks again.” Derek waves to the owner before exiting the store.

“Did you know the origin of the word shawarma comes from the Turkish word çevirme, which means ‘turning’ which makes sense because of the-”

“Just enjoy the food pretty boy, just enjoy it.” Derek sighs, pushing the Shawarma up against Spencer’s mouth.

“Mm-” The younger agent protests, pushing his face back and snatching his shawarma back.

“Hurry up genius, the team is waiting.” Derek laughs.

The brunette rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but speeds up his walk beside his friend anyways.

---

Spencer wakes up to the sound of an alarm in his ear and without skipping a beat he sits up and throws his covers off, careful not to wake Derek sleeping in the bed next to him.

Slowly, he picks up his bag and tip toes to the bathroom, glancing at his watch, the time reads 5:00 am, still dark out. Spencer nods to himself.

Pulling on a white collared shirt and a black- no, black was too formal. Maybe red instead? No, this isn’t a date… “Blue.” Spencer murmurs, placing the tie around his neck and tying it slowly, being sure not to mess up. “Hi I’m Doc- no wait, hi I’m Spencer.” The brunette murmurs to himself as he ties his shoes. Spencer curses himself for only bringing converses and striped socks, but his jeans covered most of it to his relief.

“Hi I’m Spencer-”

“Spence, who are you talking to this early in the morning?” Derek’s drowsy voice groans from his spot in bed.

“I’m heading out early, I’ll see you later Morgan!” Spencer calls, pulling on his jacket to fend off the cool November air and swinging his bag over his shoulder so he could head back to the police department afterwards.

Stepping off the elevator, the hotel was practically empty, Spencer sighs in relief, he must have looked like a psycho constantly fixing his hair and tie. 

He exits the front door into the windy New York outdoors, suddenly regretting not wearing his scarf, but regardless, pushing on.

tousled brown hair swaying in the wind, Spencer checks himself in the glass of a building beside him, licking his chapped lips and swiveling his head back to the pavement ahead of him, careful not to bump into anyone.

Taking another turn, Spencer sees the sign for your university campus and feels his heart begin to race.

All of his thoughts began to jumble. What was his name again? Where was he going? A sudden squawk from a crow brings him back to himself, but his hot face and racing heart were impossible to shake.

As he grows closer to the coffee shop you mentioned to him, he begins to stumble, his feet beginning to fail him. He’s able to play it off as a funny walk, but when he spots the coffee shop, and beside it, the field. He completely stops.

A man grunts behind him, cursing at Spencer before turning and walking around him.

“Sorry.” Spencer murmurs, walking to the side of the pavement before crossing the street quickly.

Glancing down at his wrist again, his watch reads 5:45. Great, now he just had to sit and wait-

“What?”

Spencer’s thoughts are cut short when his vision is cut off by something...warm. Hands.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone-” A sweet voice whispers in his ear.

The melodic voice from across the phone, it was you!

“W-We find it with another.” He stammers out, smiling as he hears your laughter.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, finally we meet.” You sigh, removing your hands from his face and dropping them at your sides.

“Y-Y/n-” Spencer says, turning to face you. 

He freezes for a moment as his eyes adjust to the light again. Then his jaw drops.

“Y-You’re…” Spencer’s eyes follow your y/h/c hair, jawline, eye shape and height. 

“No, no, no, no.” Spencer murmurs, glancing from side to side, overanalyzing every single person in your vicinity.

This was impossible. So, so impossible, yet there you were. Your description matched those girls perfectly, yet here you were out in the open talking to him. You weren’t safe.

“I-I know Doc, but it’s okay, I’ve got my pepper spray and everything!” You reassure Spencer, squeezing his hand gently.

“Y/n, y-you fit this unsub’s type, you can’t just be out here like this it’s not safe!” Spencer snaps, pulling his jacket off by the sleeves and swinging it over your head to hide you.

Your eyes widen and Spencer’s stomach fills with dread.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I just want you to be safe.” Spencer explains, lowering his voice and leaning closer to you.

“It’s alright Spence. I knew the risk, but I just wanted to see you.” You mutter, crossing your arms and sighing.

“Hey, you- you finished Love and Living.” Spencer smiles softly, remembering the quote you whispered to him when you covered his eyes.

“Yeah, it just kind of stuck with me. Thomas Merton can really write.” You smirk, nodding your head a little.

“Well I certainly prefer him over J.C?” Spencer asks, sarcastically tilting his chin.

“J.K, but you already knew that.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“I did?” Spencer jokes, eyes widening when he finally realizes how close the two of you are to each other, his eyes shyly draw downwards.

“Ahem?” You smirk. “Eyes up here Doc.” 

“O-Oh it’s not like that, I swear.” Spencer rushes, quickly looking back up in panic.

“Hey Spence! I’m just teasing, it’s alright.” You stammer in a hushed tone, gently moving your hands to cup Spencer’s face as reassurance.

The hits just kept coming today. Spencer internally trembles, but nods, darting his tongue out again to hide his quivering lip.

“Hey, since we’re both just standing here, do you want to grab something to eat?” You shrug, awkwardly retreating your hands to your chest.

There it was again, the sound of his name on your voice.

“C-Coffee?” Spencer sputters. “How about coffee?” Spencer repeats, clearing his voice and moving his hands from your shoulders to his sides.

“Yeah, coffee sounds great Doc.” You nod, taking Spencer’s hand and pulling him forwards.

“I’ve been going to this place since my first year here, amazing coffee, tea, and even seasonal sodas.” You gush, squeezing his hand and opening the door to the local shop.

“Any idea of what you want to order?” You ask, turning to face the brunette and shifting his jacket from your head to your arms.

“Uh, regular coffee is fine?” Spencer’s voice comes out almost as a question, he feels himself growing timid at the size of the menu.

“I’ll tell Choi ssi to surprise you.” 

Spencer nods, his lips pulling up into a line.

“Ah if it isn’t my favourite little boba pearl, what can I get for you today?” A man in his late forties calls to you with a smile. “And who might this be?” Mr. Choi motions to Spencer.

“Choi ssi, I’d like you to meet my Doc.” You smile. Spencer feels his face heat up at ‘my’

“I-I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” He explains, nodding to the man behind the counter.

“I’m Viktor Choi, and Doctor? Wow, how old are you kid?” Mr. Choi questions in slight awe.

“Twenty five.” Spencer answers plainly, shrugging his shoulders.

Viktor’s jaw drops.

“Yeah I get that a lot, are we gonna order now?” Spencer blurts, turning back to you.

“Yeah of course. I’ll have my boba, and Doc-” You pause, tapping Spencer on the chest. “Would like to be surprised.” You smirk.

“Oh adventurous.” Choi smirks back to you, raising his eyebrows. You nod.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, feeling something strange was awaiting him.

“Oh you’ll love it!” You smile, placing a paper bill on the counter and pulling Spencer towards a table.

From the shake of Mr. Choi’s head and your small smirk, Spencer made an educated guess you gave him more than what was expected.

“Here.” You point to an empty table beside one of the large windows that wrapped around the shop.

“A window seat.” Spencer smirks, sitting in the chair across from you.

“What, you have a profiler fact for me?” You tease.

“Well, people who prefer window seats are more selfish and easily irritable.” Spencer shrugs feeling his smile widen. 

“Hey I just like to feel the sun.” You protest, looking out into the busy traffic not too far from you.

“I see.” Spencer smirks, glancing over to see you gazing into the sunlight.

Spencer is caught off guard at first, beauty isn’t usually a thing he notices, but it would be impossible for him not to admire you.

Your e/c eyes seemed to glow in the sunrise, your hair shined and your smile grew and seemed to shine brighter than the sun could ever be, figuratively though, obviously. 

Strange, Spencer felt his hands clam up and heart began to race again.

“Order for miss boba and her doc!” Mr. Choi calls, drawing both yours and Spencer’s attention.

“You seemed like a coffee kind of guy.” He shrugs as you bring the two drinks back to your table.

Spencer smiles in acknowledgement before looking down at what looked to be a simple coffee with a rim of milk foam and- Spencer furrows his eyebrows, chocolate shavings.

“Don’t be deceived, his coffee packs a punch.” You smirk, stirring your drink with the straw poking out of it.

“Good.” Spencer nods, drawing a laugh from you, as he lifts the mug to his lips and blows on the hot liquid, finally getting a taste.

The first thing that hits Spencer is the sweetness, just the right amount that made him smile as he drank it. The next was how rich it is, practically gliding over his tongue like melted chocolate, of course just not as viscous. 

You must have noticed a change in his demeanor because you begin to giggle to yourself.

You couldn’t help it, the look on Spencer’s face was too good not to notice.

His eyes widened, brows raised to his hairline and he tilted the cup higher in an instant to get more.

“Adorable.” You sigh to yourself, not realizing you had said it out loud until Spencer suddenly chokes on his drink.

“Oh my god, Spence are you alright?” You worry, holding a napkin to his chin as drops of coffee spill past his lips. 

The brunette nods, bringing the drink back down onto the table to see he had already drunken half of it.

“It’s good right?” You grin, pulling the napkin away but not moving back just yet.

Spencer nods, already feeling a buzz, but unsure if it was from the coffee or your sudden proximity, or you calling him adorable.

His ears felt as though they were burning, and this time he couldn’t blame the coffee.

Timidly glancing up, it seemed as though you could say the same for your cheeks.

Spencer lifts his mug up again to take another sip of his beverage, clearing his throat a bit before speaking again.

“I-If it makes you feel any better, I find you rather endearing, myself.” Spencer says just above a whisper, too nervous to look you back in the eye.

“Thank you Spencer.” You smile, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest and in your face.

Without thinking you look up and tilt Spencer’s chin back up to face you. His eyes read amazement and sheepishness, prompting a giggle from you.

Usually Spencer would have pushed the hand touching him away, ready to list facts about germs to make sure no one in the general vicinity would try that again. But there was something about his racing heart and your gentle hands that smelt of lavender, that made it impossible for any words to come out at all, he barely wanted to move.

“Hey Doc, do you feel like going for a walk?” You ask, stroking your thumb down Spencer’s cheek to catch his attention again. 

“Yeah, yeah a walk.” Spencer glances down at his watch, 6:24.

“I have to be back at the station for seven, but I can walk you back to your dorm?” Spencer offers, half suggesting it just to make sure you got back safely.

“What a gentleman.” You smirk standing and prompting Spencer to follow you. “You can drop the cup off at the counter over there.” You say, Spencer nods, standing and placing the mug at the counter for an employee to sweep it away in seconds.

“Now come on, we’ve still got time for me to give you a little tour.” You grin, putting a bit too much emphasis on little.

To the profiler’s surprise, you take his hand into yours as you wave goodbye to Mr. Choi.

“Bye my little boba pearl and Dr. Boyfriend!” He shouts out to you and Spencer as you exit the door. Spencer doesn’t even have time to sputter out a correction before you’re pulling him towards your campus. 

“Isn’t he the best! He and his husband have been running that place for years, the best coffee in the city if you ask me.” You chuckle, slowing your speed to a steady walk beside Spencer.

“Yeah, we should go again sometimes.” Spencer shrugs, finally closing his hands around yours, growing accustomed to the feeling.

“D-Did you know that multiple studies, including one conducted at the University of California Los Angeles, show that human touch triggers the release of oxytocin, in our brain. Oxytocin is-” 

“A neurotransmitter that increases feelings of trust, generosity and compassion, and decreases feelings of fear and anxiety, aka the love hormone.” You finish, smiling up at him reassuringly.

You knew Spencer began listing off random facts when he felt he’d made an atmosphere awkward. You’d started noticing these cues once the two of you began talking on the phone, so you made sure to ensure everything was fine to him. 

“Yeah, t-that’s the one.” Spencer mutters.

The brunette was always cut off while he tried to explain a statistic or fact. He knew it was never to hurt him in any way, but it still got frustrating for him when he was talked over.

When you cut him off on the other hand,  it is to finish his sentence and complete the fact. He was starting to see why so many people found this gesture romantic.

Your smile grows as you notice Spencer’s eyes downcast on your hands.

Rounding the corner deeper into your campus, you stop at a couple spots to tell Spencer more about your school life and how your studies were going.

“I can’t believe I’m really graduating this year.” You sigh dreamily, looking up into the sky.

“Do you have any ideas where you may want to work?” Spencer asks as you lead him to a fountain in the centre of a field.

“Well, not exactly, but I’ve still got time to decide.” You grin, digging into your pocket for something Spencer couldn’t see.

“You know the BAU will always be an option.” Spencer shrugs, watching you pull out a shiny quarter.

“I dunno doc. All that stuff might not be for me.” You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment before flipping the coin into the water of the fountain.

“Yeah I guess serial killers and psychopaths aren’t everyone's cup of tea.” Spencer says seriously, causing you to break out in a fit of giggles.

“Do you believe in wishes coming true Spence?” You continue laughing, pulling Spencer in the direction of your dorm.

Spencer’s head snaps up at his name, but his eyebrows furrow.

“Well the act of throwing valuables into water hasn’t always been for wishing, it used to be for worshipping gods and other deities, but as the years went by it became popularized to wish for things by throwing something of value into the basic fundamental of human life.” Spencer pauses looking to you apologetically.

“It’s okay Spence, I’m listening.” You smile.

“Oh okay- First used to honour gods, people began asking for favours such as a good harvest or for a loved one to get well from a sickness which is where wishing wells came from.” Spencer nods, squeezing your hand as a silent ‘thank you.’

“So to answer my question-” You draw on, looking curiously into Spencer’s hazel eyes.

“While there’s no sound science to prove anything, I don’t see why people can’t have something to believe in, as long as they understand if it doesn’t come true.” Spencer shrugs, stopping when you do, outside a large building.

“So I’ll take that as a yes, but.” You smirk.

“I suppose, besides sometimes the wishes do come true out of pure coincidence, but you can never say that.” Spencer shrugs.

“It sounds like you speak from experience.” You laugh, nudging him in the side.

“My friend Penelope wished I’d get my haircut, but didn’t tell me until I did, three months later.” Spencer chuckles.

Both of you knew you were supposed to say goodbye now, if you remained just standing there any longer you’d become a problem for sleep-deprived students. Not a good mix.

But neither of you could find the will to move, your hands stayed interlocked and your smiles remained as Spencer began talking more about a couple books and some more facts about wishing wells.

“Y/n?” A loud voice calls to you from afar. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The voice chimes again, slowly getting closer.

“Oh I’m sorry Adira, I was meaning to tell you.” You apologize, letting go of Spencer’s hand to turn around and speak to the person calling you.

For a minute Spencer forgot how to function his hand, he just sort of hovered it in the air for a second, before regaining his train of thought and dropping his hand back to his side and turning.

“I’ve been worried sick y/n, you haven’t been answering your phone and with that ‘duplicator’ guy running around-” Adira begins, cutting off to wrap her arms around you. “Don’t do that again, please.”

“Alright, I’m sorry Adira, but I had a friend with me, see.” You smile, turning her to face Spencer.

“Hello.” Spencer greets awkwardly, placing his hands into his pockets and nodding.

“Wait he sounds just like-” Adira pauses. “That’s Doc?” They pause, jaw dropping as she begins tugging on your sleeve.

“Yes- that’s him.” You smile, tapping on her hand to try and get her to stop before your face overheats.

“Okay okay!” Adira laughs, rolling her eyes as she fixes her headscarf and extends her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, y/n has not stopped talking about you since you started writing to each other-”

“Adira!” You intervene, bringing your hand to your face to hide your blush.

“Wow you’re even cuter than the photo-”

“Okay, we still have that project to work on right, let’s go.” You laugh nervously, pushing Adira towards the door of your dorm room as she remembers something.

“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”

“Perfect, we’ll finish it up when we get inside.” You smile.

“Nice jacket by the way, where’d you get it?” Adira comments, poking the black suit jacket on your arm, and then back again at Spencer standing in a collared shirt and tie.

“Y/n!” She laughs teasingly, turning around and grabbing a hold of your shoulders.

“I’ll head in on my own, now have fun, but not too much fun.” She smirks, pushing you back towards Spencer before walking into the building and throwing you a wink.

“I-I’m-”

“There’s no need to apologize, I’m rather flattered you talk about me.” Spencer shrugs, looking down at the ground subtly.

“Well of course I do, you’ve become a big part of my life y’know.” You smile, taking Spencer’s large hands into yours.

Spencer smiles fondly, hiding the internal regret he held, the profiler had yet to tell any of his friends about you, wanting to have this one thing for himself in his twisted world.

Squeezing your hands, Spencer nods and glances down at his watch.

“I should get back to the station.” The brunette murmurs.

“You should get back to the station.” You reply, loosening your grip only for Spencer to pull you back.

“I-I’m happy I got to meet you by the way, please call me if you need anything, or just to talk.” Spencer pushes his lips back in a forced smile, he was reluctant to leave you alone.

“I will Spence. Catch that guy for me alright?” You smirk, wrapping Spencer in a short hug before shrugging off his jacket, placing it over Spencer’s shoulders and turning to finally walk into the building.

Spencer barely had time to react to your gesture, but while he processed it, he simply stood there. It was as though you had left an imprint of yourself on him, a reminder you were real, and really held him. He was truly awestruck.

His suit jacket held the faintest scent of your perfume, the feeling of your arms lingered on his torso and his hands still reached for yours though you were long gone.

This feeling was foreign to the brunette, but not rejected. Spencer quite enjoyed it after all.

After a few moments of not moving the brunette finally picks up his feet and turns to leave, not noticing the figure not too far away clenching his fists so hard, blood begins to trickle slowly out.

[nightfayre]

a donation drabble request for the ever kind and supportive Ayobami @tps31! thank you SO MUCH for your donation and support!! you’ll never know how much it means to me <3

prompt: tianshan quarantine fluff, aka “why the hell am I stuck in a house with you all day every day?”

(a/n: this is just a random thought but I honestly don’t think I’ve written a fic about the boys still in middle school like, ever, so thank you so much for this prompt! it was so refreshing to write them as the flustered, airheaded, and teasing boys they are!) <3

tianshan, 3600 words, rated T

*   *   *

Guan Shan hates this. 

The laundry basket next to his. The pair of shoes at the front door. The extra toothbrush in his bathroom, and the second phone charger plugged in next to his bed. There’s a gray duffel bag taking up the corner of his bedroom and a black jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. None of it takes up too much space, carefully put into their respective places and never crossing the boundary, but—

Guan Shan hates it.

And, what’s worse: he never asked for this. He was stupid enough to mention He Tian’s name at the dinner table one night; a passing comment he hadn’t really thought about. But then his mother had paused with a spoonful of miso soup at her lips, pensive.

“He Tian,” she’d echoed, as if the name felt foreign but sweet on her tongue. “Isn’t that the one who lives near the center of the city? The one who lives alone? The tall and polite and handsome one of your friends?”

“Uh,” Guan Shan had said, smirking with distaste. “Yeah. Sure. That one.”

“Poor thing. Alone throughout all of this mess.” She sighed. “Why does he not live with his family?”

And Guan Shan had thought about it for a moment, sifting through his mind like pressing rewind on a VHS. “I don’t know,” he’d admitted, reaching for the soy sauce. “Never asked.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, you should invite him over, then.”

Guan Shan choked. 

Oblivious, his mother had continued: “Have him stay a few nights. No one should be left alone throughout this entire period. Who knows how long this will last, what with how many cases that have been reported. He’ll go stir crazy by himself, poor soul.”

“He’s already stir crazy,” Guan Shan said, eyes watering from a dislodged grain of rice. “I don’t want him here, ma. I’ll literally do anythin’ else. Seriously.”

She’d given him a disappointed look. “Ah-Shan, I thought I raised you to have a little more compassion than that.”

“Trust me, a person like him doesn’t need compassion.”

“Now, you don’t know that,” she reprimanded. She tapped her chopsticks against her bowl, succinct. “After we finish dinner, you should reach out to him and invite him to spend the week with us.”

“A week?”

“Well, now that school is postponed and I’m working from home, wouldn’t it be nice to have company for a bit?”

“Ma, please—“

“You will text him, Ah-Shan. No excuses. The world needs kindness right now, and we will do whatever we can to contribute to it.”

And that, unfortunately, was that. 

That night, Guan Shan deleted the message immediately after he sent it, as if that would erase it out of his memory, too. But it was hard to forget the string of skeptical yet blaringly enthusiastic string of response texts that followed the invite, and even harder to forget the sight of He Tian at their front door half an hour later, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and smile bright as he greeted Guan Shan’s mother with practiced sweetness and feigned gratitude. 

Guan Shan hated it. 

But as his mother shot him a warning look, Guan Shan couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t just ignore him like he did, sometimes, at school.

And now, five days in, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. 

“Little Mo, are you naked?”

Running a towel over his hair, Guan Shan scowls at his reflection in the mirror, still foggy from the steam. “Fuck off, chickenshit.”

“I’m kidding.” He can hear the smile in He Tian’s voice. “I just need to brush my teeth.”

“Then you can wait.”

“It’s been twenty minutes, sweetheart. Are your showers usually this long?”

“That’s an average fuckin’ time for showers!”

A hum, muffled by the closed door. “Really? Mine only take ten, and that’s generous considering the precious amount of time I spend washing my—”

The thunk of the lotion bottle against the door rattles its hinges. “Fuck off!” 

He waits until he hears He Tian’s footsteps recede. Guan Shan hates that he knows He Tian is walking away with that smug-as-all-hell smile, satisfied. 

He dresses quickly after that, doing his best to ignore the citrus-scented face wash by the faucet and the contact lens case by the hand soap. The first time he’d seen all of He Tian’s things laid out like this on his bathroom counter was something like a revelation. It was like some things clicked into place, unbidden. Now it makes sense why Guan Shan sometimes thinks he catches a whiff of lemonade every time He Tian gets too close, and why He Tian looks like he’s scowling whenever he reads but, really, it’s just because he’s blind as a fucking bat and has to squint to see fine print. 

If nothing else, Guan Shan suspects at least something valuable might come out of all this time he’s forced to spend together with He Tian — (read: blackmail) — but then again, He Tian hasn’t commented on the old, stained state of Guan Shan’s pillow like Guan Shan thought he would because he’s used it since he was four and can’t really sleep well if he’s not using that specific pillow. And he also hasn’t said anything about the way Guan Shan jumps, sometimes, when the toaster springs up his toast in the mornings because he never fucking sees it coming and it — sometimes — causes him to drop his jam knife.

A stalemate, Guan Shan supposes as he pulls his shirt over his head. Except, deep down, he knows that He Tian probably isn’t even aware that such a concept exists. After all, what would He Tian be if not someone to fight ‘til a broken victor is left standing? 

By the time Guan Shan walks out into the living room, it’s ten o’clock. His mother, having finished washing the dishes because Guan Shan made dinner, is nowhere in sight, likely huddled up in her bedroom with a book like she always does before bed. That leaves He Tian alone on the couch, casually flipping through TV stations in a t-shirt and sweats, and he doesn’t see Guan Shan at first when the latter turns the corner. 

“Bathroom’s open, dipshit,” Guan Shan mutters. He Tian looks up as Guan Shan approaches, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“About time.” He Tian tosses Guan Shan the remote, and he barely catches it before it smacks against his chest. Standing, He Tian smiles and says, “Find something good to watch by the time I get back, okay?”

“I don’t work at your beck and call,” Guan Shan seethes. But despite his retorts, his fingers find the remote buttons as He Tian saunters back to the bathroom, hands in pockets and steps quiet against the creaky floors. 

For a while, there really is nothing interesting on any of the channels. Guan Shan flies past a romcom, an old horror film, a few cartoons, the dreaded news. Nothing catches his attention — and he feels exhaustion coming on quick. He thinks, maybe, of just going to bed. But behind the apartment’s thin walls, he can hear the water running from the faucet. Despite himself, he frowns. 

It’s odd, really. He never thought he could get used to the image of He Tian’s broad frame hunched over his sink in the mornings, or the way He Tian can reach the bowls at the top of the cupboards without going on his toes, or the sight of He Tian’s nape pressed against the twin-sized air mattress on the floor of Guan Shan’s bedroom. He never thought anyone could make his mother laugh as much as he can, or finish puzzles as fast as he can, and he certainly never thought that his mother would spill Guan Shan’s childhood stories to someone she’d only met... once? Twice? He doesn’t keep track. He never had to before. 

Nevertheless, it’s not nearly enough time to warrant such trust. Such comfort. 

Guan Shan hates it. 

But in the midst of his lamenting, the faucet shuts off. A few moments later He Tian returns. And when he plops back onto the couch — too close — he smells of mint and vanilla-scented chapstick. 

Too aware of his presence and the way his knee almost touches Guan Shan’s, Guan Shan takes a long second to snap back to reality when He Tian asks, “What’s this?”

Guan Shan blinks. On the TV, there’s some kind of documentary playing. A narrator drones over the images of a complex space aircraft, and the camera pans out to show footage of the stars it swims in. As the screen switches to an interview of someone very important-looking in a suit, Guan Shan scowls.

“I don’t know. Nothin’s on.”

He Tian stretches his arms above his head, long and lithe. “Well,” he says, drawn with a sigh, “if you’re trying to put me to sleep, it might actually work.”

“Fuck off, I don’t control the damn stations,” Guan Shan bites. “And you shouldn’t be tired to begin with. You did jack shit today, just like every other day.”

He Tian looks at him, the corners of his eyes softened with drowsiness in a way that Guan Shan has become used to seeing. 

“That’s not true,” He Tian says. “I went with you to pick up supplies so your mom can sew masks. And we went to get the mail downstairs. And I helped you go grocery shopping—“

“You fuckin’ stood there with the cart and didn’t help at all—“

“—and I chopped the onions and peppers for dinner. That’s a lot. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s a normal person’s life,” Guan Shan says, exasperated. “Honestly, what the hell did you do all your life until quarantine?”

He Tian seems to take a moment to genuinely think about his answer. “Homework,” he offers, brows a bit pulled. “Basketball. School, obviously. I usually go to the convenience store for dinner, but sometimes I’ll get takeout. And I don’t get mail, but my groceries get delivered to me, so.”

And then he looks at Guan Shan, almost as if expecting some kind of praising reaction — but Guan Shan can only stare. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Guan Shan says after a long moment. “That’s ridiculous and fuckin’ miserable. You live like a robot, and a broken one at that.”

Silence. Then He Tian sits up a little straighter, as if a puppetmaster had pulled on his strings.

“I mean, I used to take piano lessons,” he says, frowning as he rubs at his neck. “And Cheng took me to shooting ranges. And…” A pause. “Camping. Yeah, we went camping some weekends. Went to rivers and fished together all day. I caught a few sometimes.”

Guan Shan blinks. “What, are you tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me right now?”

And He Tian shrugs. “Maybe.”

The answer takes Guan Shan by surprise. But He Tian’s face is neutral — expression always so put together — and Guan Shan wonders if maybe He Tian is lying to him. Building up some kind of persona again just to tear it down later. Because, surely, with that much fucking money and privilege, the guy doesn’t just sit there in that empty apartment all day and twiddle his thumbs. Surely, with his reputation, he has a regular posse of socialites always seeking him out and inviting him to some kind of get-together or event. Surely, considering all that he is, He Tian doesn’t waste his time looking for, or teasing, or protecting, or calling up—

“Guan Shan?” He Tian says, mouth a little twisted. “You still awake?”

The low rambling of the space documentary suddenly seems louder. Guan Shan swallows, once, then forces himself to look away. 

“You make no fuckin’ sense to me,” Guan Shan mutters. Then: “When are you leavin’?”

“Ouch,” He Tian remarks in an empty but unsurprised tone, shifting back on the couch. After a moment, he shrugs and responds, “Depends. Your text said a week but your mom says forever.”

A scowl. “She didn’t fuckin’ say that.”

He Tian smiles. “No, she didn’t. But she did say as long as I wanted — which, really, isn’t that much different from forever.”

Guan Shan swallows; feels inexplicable heat crawl up his neck like a spider, and he clenches his jaw against it. 

“You should go live with your own family,” he says, staring ahead. “I’m sure they’ve got all the time in the world to shower you with attention.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees He Tian smirk. 

“If I didn’t want to live with them at the best of times, what makes you think I would want to live with them at the worst of times?”

Guan Shan considers that. “This… isn’t the worst of times.”

“There’s a pandemic with no cure killing hundreds of people every day,” He Tian says, bland. “School is practically cancelled. People aren’t going to work. You invited me over to your home, unprompted. Even I know, with all things considered, that these are pretty bad times.”

Guan Shan can’t argue that. Instead he stares at the television, watching an astronomer point out weird symbols on some kind of map. It takes a lot of concentration to focus on nothing. After all, if he shifts his gaze any more to the right, he’ll see He Tian. If he lets his eyes slide down any further, he’ll see the way He Tian’s knee is still too close to his own. Both are dangerous territories for dangerous thoughts, and he doesn’t want anything to do with either. 

After a moment of silence, Guan Shan says, “You know, you should get friends. Real friends, and not your fuckin’ fangirl group.”

He Tian raises a brow. “I have you and Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi.”

“That’s not—” And then Guan Shan stops, frowning, because he’s not actually sure what their ragtag mess of a group isn’t. Instead, he swallows and pathetically hides behind: “I’m not your fuckin’ friend.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Or, maybe, it’s exactly what He Tian thought what he’d say. Guan Shan isn’t sure; he’s never fuckin’ sure when it comes to him. But it doesn’t stop him from tensing up when He Tian turns to face him, fully. Wholly. It leaves no escape, and Guan Shan realizes with a sour kind of reluctance that he has no choice but to look back.

“No?” He Tian asks, meeting his gaze. “Then, what are you to me?”

The way the television’s screen lights up He Tian’s face — it’s like looking at a painting, alone in the museum, at the dusk of day. Blue hues shine through his hair, dim, and his eyes are only bright enough to reflect the silhouette of Guan Shan sitting in front of him. It’s eerie, how the both of them are so undefined in this moment. Maybe, in a way, that’s easier. 

Guan Shan’s voice feels thick when he says, “I’m not answerin’ that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t— need to.”

“Why?” And then: “Overthinking it?”

Guan Shan flares. “What? What the fuck does that— No, I just— I don’t need to answer fuckin’ anything, asshole. I… I owe you jack shit.”

Silence responds to him. He Tian watches him; studies him. Guan Shan feels like a specimen under his gaze, split apart layer by layer under the microscope. He feels like, somewhere, something in him is splintering. And He Tian is watching it happen. 

“I don’t have a fuckin’ answer,” Guan Shan admits, sudden, like a sinner in a confession booth, heavy and quiet and raspy. “Okay? I told you, you don’t make any goddamn sense to me. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my ma.”

He Tian soaks that in, almost as thoroughly as he takes in the sight of Guan Shan’s flushed scowl. 

“You didn’t want me here?” he says, teasing.

“No, dipshit. Every time you’ve been here hasn’t been because I asked you to be.”

He Tian smirks. “Ouch,” he says again, except this time it’s said in a way that pricks Guan Shan like a rose thorn.

Guan Shan pushes down the heavy feeling in his throat. “I don’t know what you were expectin’,” he says, truthfully. 

And then He Tian looks away, rolling his head. There’s a kind of empty look in his eyes that Guan Shan thinks he recognizes, and after a moment he realizes it’s the same look he’s seen in He Cheng’s eyes in the few rare times they’d crossed paths.

“I wasn’t expecting a pandemic,” He Tian says. His voice sounds loud in the small room. “I wasn’t expecting school break to get extended. I wasn’t expecting all the restaurants to close, and for all the store’s shelves to be wiped clean.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “But I guess, for some reason, I was expecting a text from you after weeks of nothing.”

It hits Guan Shan, hard and heavy, like a ring-laden fist against his cheek. The last time he’d seen He Tian before all of this mess was a month ago — more — and at the time, none of them had known that this is how it would turn out. How could they? It’d only taken a week for things to turn south, and Guan Shan was too busy worrying of how he and his mom were going to file for unemployment to think of the way his phone had been silent for longer than he’s been used to. 

He wants to pull it out right now; check his recent messages. It would be with a sort of disbelief when he would find the timestamp on He Tian’s contact, he already knows. But the shock wouldn’t come from his own lack of outreach. No, his perplexity would stem from He Tian, the same person who couldn’t go a single weekend without a conversation about nothing over Facetime back when things were normal. The same person who, apparently, hadn’t messaged him once until Guan Shan texted him that dreadful night five days ago. 

Had he been— testing Guan Shan?

“I didn’t reach out to anybody else,” Guan Shan hears himself saying. The words taste bitter as they leave his mouth. What is he doing? What does he have to justify? “I... It was weird, those first few days of the lockdown order, and my ma and I— we had a lot goin’ on. It wasn’t— I mean, I haven’t talked to Zheng Xi or Jian Yi this whole time either. I just... don’t have time. Or, I did, but it wasn’t urgent. I— yeah, I barely use my phone anymore, anyway. I’m always at home now so I just... don’t need it.”

He stops, his tongue feeling thick. He Tian isn’t looking at him, but he knows he’s listening. Somehow, the thought makes it even worse. 

“What,” He Tian suddenly says, and there’s a curl to his mouth that he can’t seem to help, “are you trying to prove something to me right now?”

“I—“ Guan Shan flares, teeth clenched and ears hot. “Fuck you. No, I’m not, asshole. I’m actually rescuin’ your damn pride, but apparently you’ve got too fuckin’ much.”

“Hey, hey,” He Tian says, wrapping his fingers around Guan Shan’s wrist when he makes to get up. “Come on. Don’t make me finish this documentary by myself.”

Guan Shan scowls. “I’m tired. Let go.”

“Then we can sleep on the couch,” He Tian replies — and then almost as if it were an afterthought: “again.”

Guan Shan warms at the implication of it. “Why the fuck would I do that when my room is around the corner?” he hisses. 

He Tian tugs his arm. “Because I’ll follow you anyway since I’ve only got two days left with you and I’m not letting today end like this.” He smiles. “We’re not sleeping yet. I’m selfish.”

“I could’ve fuckin’ told you that,” Guan Shan mutters, dry. But he relaxes, settling back on the couch, and eventually He Tian lets him go. The skin he had touched feels electric in his absence.

“Let’s make popcorn and ride this out,” He Tian says, settling against a throw pillow. His eyes, no longer empty, are content as they drift back to the screen.

Hand in chin, Guan Shan smirks. “We both brushed our teeth already. I’m not doin’ it again.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He Tian gestures to the TV. “Popcorn and something more interesting than this.”

“If you think this is so damn boring, then why are you still here?”

“When else will I find an opportunity to spend time with you like this after I leave?”

Guan Shan doesn’t respond. After a moment, He Tian huffs. 

“That’s when you’re supposed to invite me back over in the future, little Mo,” he says, amused. Guan Shan shoots him a warning look as the documentary goes to a commercial break. 

“Don’t push your luck,” he snaps. “And don’t try to convince my ma, either.”

He Tian hums, shifting, and Guan Shan suppresses a flinch when his knee presses up against his. Warm. “I hadn’t even thought about that. That might be the agenda for tomorrow, now.”

“I’m sick of you,” Guan Shan growls. And He Tian laughs, like it’s the funniest thing ever, how easily he can get under Guan Shan’s skin and force him to worry about nothing and get him to stay with him to watch shitty television all within the span of twenty minutes. How Guan Shan has managed to survive more than three days is an incredible feat. How he’s unable to chase away the thought of inviting He Tian over for dinner after he leaves, sometimes, is an inexplicable one. 

And when the documentary comes back on with a cheap intro jingle and the streaming quality of a disposable camera, Guan Shan feels He Tian’s foot hook against his and tries to convince himself, over and over:

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

*  *  *

thank you for reading! likes/reblogs would be greatly appreciated, as this fic is dedicated to the Black Lives Matter movement. if you would like a fic/drabble written for you (and you want to support the BLM cause!), please see this post!

have an incredible week! <3

[birdsaesthetic]

surprises

A/N: Sorry I’m posting my participation for @holidayblindspot very late, but I was so caught up with homework, which never ends... I simply thought I would make Jane’s first birthday with Kurt fall during Autumn, because it’s just the best timing throughout the year, right? Now this is a wordy fic, but I promise it’s so much fun and sexy! Anyway, ENJOY  🎈🥳🍂.

Song inspiration: Happy Birthday by John Legend. (you may listen to this song while reading. It’s so beautiful!)

They’re lying like two spoons in a drawer, very tight against each other. Kurt’s warm, silent breathing is grazing Jane’s neck in a regular rhythm, to which she flutters her eyes open to bright sunlight shining between white curtains, and to the sounds of birds whistling noisily from outside.

For more or less a minute, she stays perfectly still, only blinking in laziness and yawning as she tries to figure out where exactly she was, and to piece together the events of the previous night.

As she does so, she struggles a little; her memory is patchy and there’re definitely several gaps missing, but the parts she can recall are amazingly vivid.

Last night she celebrated her Birthday with Kurt, she remembers that for sure, but not in details. She also remembers having had so much alcohol, which up until now she can taste its powerful taste in her mouth. And at the feeling of her body retaining traces of having been pulled in, kissed, caressed, and given orgasms, she remembers the mind-blowing sex she had last night and so she sighs.    

 Kurt’s bare skin against her back has the right amount of warmth that now is engulfing her, tempting to shut her eyes close and go back to sleep. She doesn’t resist the urge and does so, just after having rolled over so she can face him, then snuggles deeper into his embrace, wrapping an arms around his middle. Now, at the new posture, her cheek and ear are squished against his chest and as her eyes maintained close, she listens to his heartbeat, vividly pumping against her ear. And so she decides to stay like this for a while, because the feeling is unmatched...

But it’s not after a couple minutes that she reopens her eyes, changed position by crawling a little up, and looks deeply at his face in rest. He’s silent and still. Peaceful and handsome. Half of his face is tucked against the pillow as he lies down on his stomach. A warm smile of contentment begins to form on her sleepy face for having woken up yet another morning of her life next to him, and for being able to see him and touch him while she brushes a hand against his hair to fix its pattern in one side. Next her fingertips outline his ear, which, last night, she’d kissed it, gave it little bites, blown her breath into it, and inhaled its fragrance, all while he was inside her.

As she continues to touch him softly and randomly, a question crosses her mind. Is it really true what Kurt told me last night, that the most beautiful things in the world aren’t necessarily seen, nor touched, but rather felt with the heart?

Even now she’s still thinking about it, even if last night she herself told him that this wasn’t entirely true and then they changed the subject.

A warm touch of yours must be as fulfilling as the feeling it leaves behind it on your beloved ones. And the feels of anticipation rush through your mind is just as exciting as looking into your beloved ones eyes, the window of the soul. This is simply how Jane concluded last night, although back then, at that particular moment, she was a little drunk and very, very sexually aroused. She’s still embracing her conclusion from last night nonetheless, up until now. And again, she thinks that might differ from one person to another.

What else happened last night? Oh God, a lot.

The two were having dinner, grilled salmon steaks with boiled vegetables nicely put aside, when Kurt gazed at Jane from across the table and asked, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Jane looked up at him in surprise; she’d been pouring her full concentration into cutting her steak, but that question, his husky voice, and the teasing look in his eyes, threw her off gurad. “What is tonight?” She asked in confusion, to which Kurt bursted out laughing.

She frowned, hardly swallowed down the chunk of food she was chewing, and then yelled at him, “Kurt!”

He laughed for one last time, before he fixed his eyes on her and stared silently for a little while—surprised to see her own surprise.

Leaning over the table, he said, “It is your birthday, and you seem to have no idea!”

Her jaw dropped to have just remembered that, and then she ducked down her head in an attempt to hide what she knew were flaming cheeks. But did it even work? Since he was mere feet across her from table, and with that huge chandelier hanged right above them, making every little change happening in her face visible?

It wasn’t until she pondered for a brief moment, doing some math in her head and finding out that tonight would actually meet with her Birthday, that she looked up and spoke. “Oh my God! It just slipped my mind.”

Kurt stared at her for a long moment, a warm  look in his eyes. He couldn’t blame her, really, given how everything in their life had been crazy lately. Yet, he never forgot it, and had been waiting for it impatiently like a little child waiting for something.

“It’s okay, I remembered it and I’m so ready for it, are you?”

“Ready?”

“Yeah! You gotta be ready too, tonight, after an hour or so. I have a surprise for you.” He told her, before taking a forkful of mixed vegetables into his mouth. It had been long since Jane had put her fork down after realizing that the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't let her continue eating, and now she was watching him chew his food and cut into it for maybe a minute straight.

Normally after dinner was their bedtime: they’d quickly clean off all the mess in the kitchen and wash off the dishes together. Though this time around Jane was excused to go get ready as Kurt did all of that.

She rushed out of his sight then, and went straight away to grip a shower first, which, with haste, had taken her good ten minutes. When she was done with that, she entered the bedroom to find Kurt lying over their perfectly made bed, facing the ceiling, his eyes shut. He also seemed ready, fully dressed up.

Shutting the door behind her, hair soaking wet, body wrapped in a white towel, Jane smiled the tiniest of smiles at the sight of him  lying in rest, before she set the lighting to be more illuminating then walked the few paces toward the wardrobe and opened it in search for something to wear tonight. A minute passed, two, three, but she was yet to decide what or how she should dress for tonight.

Staring at the shelves full of clothes, indecisive, she called Kurt’s name, to which he immediately opened his eyes and reasoned, always anticipating her needs.

“What should I wear for tonight? What kinda place you’re taking me to?” She asked, head turned toward him getting up on his feet.

“Umm, I can’t really tell you much. But I can pick you something, if you feel indecisive.”

“Yes, please.”

By now, Kurt was already at the wardrobe next to her, having a brief look at the items within the wardrobe before deciding. A few seconds later of rummaging through the items hanging in the wardrobe he actually ended up choosing something. A soild black dress with long sleeves. It appeared so tiny that it would definitely accentuate every curve in her body, and it would stop at her mid-thigh, leaving the rest of her legs bare.

Kurt’s face broke into the widest grin as he turned around and held up the hanger of the dress so she could have a good look. Just like him, Jane seemed to have loved it so much by the smile appearing in her face as she reached out and took it from his hand. It was a dress that she’d never had a chance to wear it before, so it was in a perfect condition, had been nicely hanged.

Once Kurt dismissed himself out the bedroom, after having shot her a knowing look, Jane took her sweet time as she put on a nice pair of underwear then slipped into the dress. A tiny eureka moment she experienced when it fitted her just like a glove and she chuckled aloud to that. Maybe it looked a little tight, a little short, but she’d fallen in love with it already and decided to match it with black heels. For makeup she didn’t bother with much: she applied minimal eyeshadow and paired it with matte, deep burgundy lipstick that looked so fierce and brought everything to the next level. As usual, she let her hair air dry as she did all of that.

The final look was the simplest yet hottest set, having both the the burgundy lipstick and the mess of tattoos over her legs contrast with the darkness of the dress...

So beautiful.

And, because it was in midst of Autumn, during which chilly winds blew all the times and the sky might be threatening at any given moment, she gripped a coat with her, a black one. Before getting out, she asked Kurt if she should take anything else with her besides that, but he shook his head with ease, approached her, then pressed his mouth against her ear. Keeping his voice to whispers, he told her, “No, nothing. It’s only you that matters.”

That, the slightest attempt of flirting Kurt managed, made her body secrete adrenaline with anticipation of how this night was going to go.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

They left home exactly at midnight. The weather was incredible outside. A perfect example for a perfect Autumn night. There was a really nice chill in the air.  Every gentle touch of wind against the face felt like a caress, and every fierce one felt like a kiss. As they walked the few paces to the car, each one wrapping an arm around the other, the two expressed how much they loved the weather.

During the ride, there was a few exchanged loving looks between them, a silent dialogue and lots of teasing smiles. Jane’s eyes, however, glowing with curiosity, were alert and searching for any clue, any possible way to know where Kurt was driving them, because he was too far stubborn to tell her anything about the surprise and she was just as stubborn to know something.

His stillness suddenly made her realize how very constantly she was sifting, blinking, breathing, and rearranging herself every three seconds, because unlike her he seldom blinked an eye, and every turn of the steering wheel or push of the pedal he made was as small and efficient as possible because he was smartly preserving his energy for later.

Jane gave in and leaned back in her seat then; it was wholly pointless, she then realized. So she resembled her husband posture and let things follow its natural course. Or the way he wanted them to.

It was thirty minutes later when Kurt parked the car at a random spot and pulled out a piece of clothing out from his pocket. Her eyes were drawn to it immediately. With a deep glow in his eyes, he looked up at her. “I’ll have to blindfold you now.” He maintained his eyes fixed on her for a long moment, and awaited her to come close enough so he would do it. Seeming amused, Jane made a faint sound and blinked once, twice in his direction, then she rolled her eyes away, grinning.

He didn’t ask again, he awaited with all smiles. And eventually, she gave in, closed her eyes and leaned her head in his direction. His fingers first pushed all the hair that was framing her face to be tucked behind her ears before he tied the rose-colored, silky blindfold around her skull.

Though blindfolded, and the curiosity sparking in her head, Jane kept still and focused on her remaining senses. There was the same breeze of the other cars from outside as before. The air was just starting to grow tense—or perhaps that was just how she felt alone. She took a deep breath that was almost audible and reminded herself that she was in the safest hands in the world.

The car had already started moving. All it seemed it was moving forward for what felt like a full minute then it took a couple turns before it paused completely. Jane turnd her head toward Kurt. “What’s now?” She asked in a low voice, just a second before she felt unexpected caresses on the base of her chinz

“Can you wait some more?” She heard him say, before which she heard the door open within the car then close. It was suddenly awe without him in the car, but thankfully it didn’t take him long to reach her in the other side of the car and open the door for her.

“Your hands, please.”

She gave him both hands and clenched his own so hard her knuckles turned red as he helped her out of the car. It’d gotten much colder by now than when they first left their apartment, but weather it had or not, she clung impossibly close to him, who wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her forward in the streets then into a place that Jane assumed was a huge building, and possibly bright.

The most significant sound Jane could hear now was her heels knocks choing against tiles, besides that there were dull and mixed sounds that could be others moving around.

“Are there people around?” Jane wondered in whispers, before which she felt Kurt warm breathing tickling her ear as he replied, “A few.” She could tell he was grinning as he did so then he asked, “Why are you intense though?”

When she turned her face to him—so she could whisper to him that she wasn’t necessarily intense, but rather feeling ridiculous walking around people while being blindfolded—her lips brushed against his, and that unexpected sensation just made her want to steal a kiss, or two from him so damn badly. But she swallowed that instant urge and put on a smiley face, because she knew it, deep down, that tonight they’d do way more than just ‘stealing a kiss’. She could picture it in her head now, as she continued to walk with him, her back against his front. She could imagine how it would possibly go and to what extent. How it’d possibly feel, before, during and afterward. Because she was more than certain that, whatever kurt had arranged for tonight must have a convenient time, place where they could do all of that.

Together, they’d been moving forward rather slowly, but at some point they paused completely and Kurt happened to be pressed against her from the front. It also got silent.  Oddly silent. Jane’s lips were a tight line as she slid her hands up his chest, over the ridge of his collarbone, close to where his heart was beating underneath the clothes. In comparison to her elevated heartbeat, his maintained a normal rhythm. She felt him lift his hands to her cheeks, cupping them. He was so close now, his warmth engulfing her entire being, which resulted in a warm smile to start appearing on her lips.

“Can you tell where are we now?” He asked softly.

“Umm, at the elevator?” She guessed, her smile growing wider.

“Right! Can you tell if we’re alone or not?”

Jane chuckled. “Definitely alone.”

She was still smiling when she felt his fingers lift her chin then him capture and kiss her lips in earnest. Even with a cloth already against her eyelids, she squeezed her eyes hard, the same way she would even if she wasn’t blindfolded, and kept on kissing him back deeper and pulling him closer.

Too soon, the elevator seemed to have stopped when Kurt gently withdrew after planting his final kiss. Catching her breath, mouth slightly open, a wave of dizziness hit Jane, having experienced that much amount of gravitational forces pull her downward simultaneously while the elevator was pulling her upward. she’d lost all her remaining senses at this point, even breathing was a little hard to manage. And so, she dug her nails into Kurt’s shoulders and held him so close as if to hold on for her life.

They stumbled out of the elevator, half-breathless and already a little disheveled.  Kurt held her hand in his and tugged her along with him, through what seemed to feel like a very, very quiet and narrow hallway. Forward they moved. Forward. Turning right. Some more forward. Then turning left.

“Kurt,” Jane called quietly, given how quiet it was so all around her, but all she heard after that was her own voice echoing—and of course the knocking of her heels against the floor as she walked some more forward.

Briefly after that, they finally paused. A sound of door was being opened. She was pulled inside then the door closed behind her. They were certainly alone by now, behind that closed door, Jane thought. Also, it got so warm, almost unbearable, given how she was moved, dragged all the way here. So she just loathed that coat she had on.

“Kurt,” she called again.

“Here,” he assured, as his hand released hers, which she never would’ve allowed it if she hadn’t been sure that he was already stepping closer toward her and then stopped, just like before at the elevator.

He began to unzip her coat and it slid easily when she shrugged it off, impatient for this part to be done since, for her, it was growing hot. The next part, he started to untie the blindfold, and she held her breath as he did so.  

“Finally,” she muttered.

Kurt’s smiley face was first thing to see. God, it hadn’t been that long and she already missed that lovely face! He stepped back and began to admire the sight of her surprised as her eyes, wide open, traveled across the place he’d gotten her into.

What must be a hotel room looked so beautifully decorated, pretty huge, and the lighting must be on the dimmest setting it could possibly be without being completely off. On very available surface there were nicely put numerous of candles, each one with a little flame flickering and dancing the way her heart was at this exact moment.

Two meters or three away from where she was standing was oversized bed that dominated a majority of space. A single lamp emitted light from the corner of the room, making it atmospherically feel warm.

When she took a deep breath, a bit overwhelmed, there was this heavy fragrance, which made her slightly turned to the side to see red, velvet roses bouquet. It was so huge. Breathtaking. Beside it there was the cake, and she could smell it too. Finally, there were the shelves filled with so many drinks, huge bottles of them in all brands and colors.

Jane jumped into his space and pressed lips together. It was one kiss but it was long, slow, and it carried so much affection within it. When she pulled back, she told him what that meant to her and thanked him repeatedly, every time came from the bottom of her heart, genuinely meant.

Kurt was quiet, unlike her. He let her express—whether it was in words or by gripping harder onto his neck—how she was feeling, and let her hot breathing tickle his face. He was so appreciative to the sight of her so happy, surprisingly blushed, and carefree. It really suited her, being this much happy. He wished if he could just quickly frim her up in this particular position and take a picture of her, so he could admire it later. But she wouldn’t simply let go of him; she was hugging him in earnest, with fluttering eyes that were framed with wet lashes by now.

“Let’s show you around.” Kurt suggested, after what felt like a full minute. She nodded with a warm smile, intertwined their fingers together, and then they stepped toward the other side of the room, where floor-to-ceiling window took place.

It wasn’t just a huge window, when they got closer to it, it was actually a balcony door. There was an invisible handle at the side and, with a good deal of effort, Kurt pulled it to be opened to the view of the whole city, New York City. From Jane’s point of view, as she stepped in the balcony along with Kurt, there were glimmering lights, bouncing dots of colors that danced and reflected and contrasted with the darkness of the night. The crowd of cars, bustling and honking in desperation to be released, free, she enjoyed watching that part. Not that anyone would ever enjoy being in the crowd itself, but it was quite appealing to her to only watch it from a cozy, high place. And sharing such a place, such a view with Kurt was just... She couldn’t ask for more or less than that. It was the meaning of perfection in her opinion.

The breeze blowing of the wind grew strong by every passing minute, but they stood still and firm, clenching in one another. Eyes sparkling in curiosity, Jane stepped some more forward and, since their hands were still entwined, Kurt stepped along with her to the far side of the balcony. Her free hand clenched on the handrail as she gracefully leaned against the wrought-iron railing and asked thoughtfully, “In which floor are we?”

“The twentieth.” He answered quickly, to which she gasped, turning her head to face him and pretended to look impressed. “Wow!”

Curling her arms around his neck with ease as he pulled her closer by the waist, she narrowed her eyes and wondered aloud, “I wonder how much this costs for one night.”

Kurt seemed to be busy studying the beauty of her features, having her this up close.

“How much?” She repeated, rather louder. This time her eyes were wide; she was seriously asking not like before just wondering.

“I’m not telling you.” He shook his head and, undeniably, there was a laugh in his voice.

“You’re not telling me!” She began, her challenging behavior making him entertained, fail to hide a grin. “You don’t need to know.”

She pretended to pout, then glanced away at the outside scene as her hair gently flow in the wind. But it wasn’t until she felt his mouth patting her ear and whispering, “I just brought you here to enjoy it.” that she looked back at him and, at the close proximity, their foreheads rubbed.  “I already am.” She whispered back.

“That’s the only thing that matters.”

They shared a long, loving look, soon followed by a smile then a soft kiss.

As if glued together, they were so close as they headed back into the room and then Kurt turned on the music.

Humming in pleasure, Jane closed her eyes at the beautiful sound of music when it covered the silence with its delightful tunes. She allowed herself to melt against his rigid frame, pressing her forehead against his chest, which just had the right amount of warmth that she was quite addictive to. Voice muffled against his chest, she whispered, “This’s nice.”

 The comment made Kurt chuckle softly, not that there was anything funny about it, but it was just a way through which he could express the great pleasure he was experiencing at the moment. And just like him, Jane chuckled softly for the same reason before pulling a little back, only to see his smile creep onto her face.

She tucked that smile into her memory and, smiling back, she tucked her fingers between his own. He squeezed hers in return and possessively slid a hand about the sharp curve of her waist as her free hand rested with a feather-like weight on his shoulder.

Beautiful, beautiful, no other name

I knew from the moment you came

I've seen in your eyes the dawn of a day

Where nothing will ever be the same

And now, they were dancing together, swaying in slow motions as the music spun around them. Everything seemed perfectly going, from the mutual feeling between them to their movements that stayed in sync: when he stepped right, she stepped right. When he stepped forward, she stepped backward. But when he gave her some space and stepped backward and simultaneously lifted their entwined hands, she spun around in an elegant, slow movement, her body resembling the tune to the music. There was a sort of possession, aggressiveness in the way he pulled her back to him after having spun that made her gasp faintly. But then, as a reaction, she bit her lip and looked down at the small space between them, mind recording every fraction of the moment, taking mental images, and most importantly enjoying every emotional sensation.  

Feel my heart beating through my chest

I'll get used to just saying "yes"

Yes, I'll love you with all I am

Yes, tonight is where we begin...

His lips were pressed against her forehead for a long moment as they continued to dance in the same way, which was a demonstration to their love for each other. Their real, mutual, simple yet deep love.

Oh, I wanna dance with you

Oh, I'll promise to stand for you

I'll do anything for you

Oh yeah, oh yeah

Tonight, my love all I want

I wanna sing for you

Yeah, I'll sing for you

Happy birthday, baby

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday, baby

Happy birthday to you...

The music lasted for more or less five minutes, and when it was starting to fade away, reaching its end, Kurt improvised and, as though she were the center of the universe, he spun around her just the same.

Both fell into soft laughters afterward, before Jane snuck her hands up to his neck and hugged him tightly, and he returned the hug just as tightly. Silence fell again, that pleasant, comforting kind of silent. And so, they lingered in such a position for a moment, neither willing to break apart.

The next moment, Jane hardly detangled herself from his grip then looked over his shoulder, where the all bottles of drinks were nicely settled, and then back at him with a knowing look. Kurt, with no troubles, took the cue and, from his pocket he pulled out the same rose-colored blindfold, raised his chin in pride, then asked her to turn around first, his voice rich and husky.

 Surprised Jane raised a brow in response. “Again!”

“Again.”

 She rolled her eyes. “You brought me here, to this beautiful place, so you blindfold me!”

“You know," Kurt gripped her shoulders and turned her around himself, and just like the previous time, he tightened the blindfold around her skull as he explained, “I’ve read a quote, just recently, that says something like, the best and most beautiful things in the world aren’t necessarily seen, nor even touched, but rather felt with the heart.” He then turned her around so she was facing him and he added, “I want you to see if that’s really true or not, okay?”

“But I can’t see.” She joked, to which Kurt grinned widely, and simultaneously she matched him with a very similar grin, although she couldn’t see him by now. She could hear it nonetheless.

“You just have to feel.”

 With that being said, Jane nodded in acknowledgment, her shoulders relaxed and jaw unclench. Kurt cupped her face into his hands and brought it impossibly close to his own that their lips were touching. “Now, how about some drinks?”

Jane, having been craving that, gave a frim shake of her head. “Yes please! I’m quite thirsty.” She whispered against his mouth, before stealing a wet kiss then another from him.

kissing her back, harder that her head went back, Kurt slid his both hands down from her face to her back and then her hips. He kept roaming his hands all over there in earnest, which felt so damn good. Every curve in her unyielding body that his hands passed by filled in the depths of his pleasure. Just like that, and he was so turned on at this point.

But no matter how he was kissing her almost violently and nipping at her lips, blindfolded Jane was exploring his mouth, tasting him, and licking up every honey-like drop from his lips. Her arms flew all the way up to be wrapped around his neck when she felt her body being held with ease as if she were weightless, lifted, and then sat upon a table.

Panting, unwittingly chuckling, he asked, “Okay, what shall I get you, birthday girl?”

“Dazzle me,” Jane smirked, with an exhaled chuckle lacing through her spoken words.  His finger patted her chin before it drew, and then, there was a sense of more empty space around her. He wasn’t in her hand reach now, which made her take a deep breath and await him and the drinks with impatience.

 Kurt wasn’t actually that far away from her as he began to prepare a Daiquiri cocktail that contained rum, freshly squeezed lime juice, and sugar syrup. He shook all that together before pouring it into a nice coupette glass then walked back the few paces toward her in pride.

“Hey,” she welcomed him as he approached, feeling his warmth already with a hand in the air to catch him. And he took it, her hand, and replaced it on the glass instead. "Here. Don't be shy to disappoint me." He warned.

After a short sip, a content hum spoke genuinely even before her words did. “Impressive! Not too sharp, not too light and sugary. I love it! Thanks.” She was grinning as she said it, her voice in the sexiest tone. Feeling his palms widespread over her thighs, she raised the glass then took several small sips, knowing that his eyes were fixed on her.

 “Glad you liked it.” He said, his own mouth dry, but he did not care to do anything about, not this moment; he was busy staring at her unblinkingly, admiring her and every movement she made, from sipping to swallowing down. Her eyes would’ve been squinting and looking right into his and admiring him just the same way, Kurt thought, if that was an option right now.

Forcefully swallowing the stinging sensation down, after pouring down the last sip, Jane lifted the now empty glass between them in a gesture for a refill, which had Kurt notice the perfect impression of her hot, red lipstick on the glass and he just... admired that too.

“Is it that good?” He asked, after taking the glass.

“So good, haven’t you tasted it?”

“No.”

A smirk pulled at one side of her mouth. “Come here,” she told him, bringing him closer with an arm around his neck at the same time that she opened her mouth to the fullest and took over his own. Her tasty, wet tongue had entered his mouth in ease by now, where it hungrily intertwined with his like a young snake messing with another young snake.

Tasting all that incredible mixture in her sweet, hot tongue, Kurt was also rewarded when her hand ran through his hair for a bit before she pulled him back. “Umm, so luscious,” he breathed.

 “I want some more.” She requested with a smile. And so he went to bring her some more. As she waited, there were sounds of a glass clinking  another surface and liquid being poured into into it in generous manner. Lastly, there were his easy footsteps approaching, soon followed by the feeling of his warmth. Welcoming him back, she expanded an arm up in the air and when he finally was close to touch, she gripped him so close.

“Let me,” he whispered, and she allowed, so he lifted the glass to her plush lips for slow sips. She enjoyed every sip was poured into her mouth and he enjoyed every second that passed at the sight of her cheeks go rosier from the booze.

And so, she parted her lips once more, on an assumption that another sweet sip would be in its way inside her mouth, only to feel the iced liquid running all over her neck, her chest, to which she gasped, recoiled back, and heard Kurt rushing to say sorry.

“Kurt,”

She pushed him back and was so close to standing on her feet and taking the damn blindfold off when he held her hands still in place. “It’s okay, nothing happened,” he soothed, “I’m sorry it spilled out. Now we just have to take your dress off; it’s all damp and cold.”

Mouth parted, she shivered a little before nodding. “You did it, didn’t you, Kurt?” She claimed him, at which he mischievously grinned as he helped her stand up on her feet. “What?” He pretended to sound busy, slipping down the zipper of her dress from the back then, with an effort he made, begun to lift it all the way up. She rose her arms without needing to be asked. As soon as the collar was clear of her head she was already ditching her heels out of the way, with a hand upon his shoulder for support.

He was gone after that and Jane, naked only saved for a pair of underwear, stood there in what felt like a vacant space in absolute darkness behind the blindfold, hands empty at her sides. “I know you spilled it over me, Kurt.” She pretended to complain, also aware that her voice had a touch of relief at having been freed from that tight dress. Now the direct contact between her skin and the air felt nice, but what would feel even nicer was his touch against her skin.

“Are you gonna hate me for that?” She heard him say from a decent distance, then heard a breath that might be a laugh. “Not if you you come right here right now.” was her condition.

He was trying to frustrate her, she knew. It wasn’t in him to do such things, but the day was full of surprises. He’d ruined her dress already, spilled the drink all over her when she’d least expected it, and now God only knew what he was doing.

But even though she wasn’t seeing him, she was able to hear his breathing, hard, out of his nose like an animal. She could also feel his gaze hot on her from head to toe, which made her covered in a thin sheen of sweat all over her chest and between her thighs, the sparking center of her desire. That was all because of her insides, being boiled from stress, from arousal, and from anticipation.

She could, of course, end all of that with the tip of her finger either pull the blindfold down to hang around her neck, or up and then toss it in the air. And, having waited long enough, she threatened him to do so, “You know that I can take this off with the tip of my finger, right?” She supported her threatening words by pointing an index finger at the piece of cloth over her eyes.

Just then he finally surfaced. “Don’t. I’m right here.” Said Kurt, finally approaching her from the back then reached out, wrapping his arms around her middle very, very strongly that she really didn’t need to use her feet anymore, and melted against him, her head falling back, when his lips met her ear. She twisted her neck so her lips could kiss wherever she could reach in the given position, while desperately shrinking a hand then snuck it between their bodies. But he gathered her both hands quickly, that were only seconds away from undoing his belt, then lifted them up and kissed and patted them.

 “Kurt...” she hissed, and her disapproval was very, very obvious by the tone of her voice. “Enough with the teasing, Kurt.” She begged him, who continued to kiss her hands, which by now were wrestling his grip. He retaliated by hauling her against him in a loving way. “There’s one one thing before that.” He tried to assure.

“What?” She breathed, from both her mouth and nose.

He revealed her eyes, lowering the blindfold so it was hanging around her neck as he clumsily walked her forward, his front to her back. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and, because of how heavy he was leaning against her back, she had to brace her hands against the table they reached that had the cake upon it.

It wasn’t large, the cake, but it really didn’t need to be. After all, it was just the both of them tonight. There would be a larger party for Jane with their friends later this weekend. But today, Jane was booked for him. And only him.

So he started lighting the candles on the cake, one arm doing so while the other still hugging her by the waist so firmly, then he said, his warm breathing tickling her ear, “I got you this cake from the same store we got our wedding cake, remember? and it’s the same exact recipe. You seemed to have loved it so much back then, so I thought I should get you the same.”

He tilted his head then, so he could see her reaction: she was stunned, eyes fluttering and face awash with emotions. Her makeup and hair that had looked gorgeous once, now looked out of place. “Yeah, I loved it.” She mumbled.

“Make a wish,” he encouraged.

“Should it be out loud?” She asked, twisting her neck so she could meet his face.

“Not necessarily,” he smiled, and then she turned both her head and attention back at the cake ahead of her. The thin candles planted at the top with mini flames dancing made her heart warm, and so she made a wish, within the bottom of her heart.

I want this to last.

She’d meant a lot by just saying this. And then, as if she were going to dive into the ocean, she drew in a deep breath then blew it out until all the candles went off, at which she grinned in absolute happiness then was rewarded with a genuine kiss over her cheek.

 “Happy birthday, love.”

She closed her eyes, inhaling this moment in particular. “Thank you,” she whispered as she once more twisted her neck and kissed him one, deep, long kiss.

“Now comes the taste test. See if this still tastes like our wedding day or not.” He eased one hand from her waist, replaced it over hers, and both their hands held the knife. Together, they cut the cake into half, their hands steady and their faces awash of happiness.

Kurt gripped a fork and with it he took a forkful of the cake, then straight up to her mouth. He waited just a second before asking, “Is it good? Is it the same?” which made Jane fight between chewing the chunk of cake and laughing at his impatience. But then she brought a hand up to her lips and laughed and chewed and shook her head yes all at once.

Her taste bud felt like it just went to a wonderland. In other words: the cake tasted amazing, so nostalgic, and just the same as their wedding day. When she had just barely swallowed that down, she was rewarded with another forkful of cake that she accepted. “The cream is just so good.” She told him as she turned her face to face him, humming happily and chewing.

“Really?”

She hummed some more, shaking her head yes, to which he brought up a forkful of the vanilla cream to her mouth, only to pull it away from her mouth reach the second she tried to take it in.

He laughed.

She frowned.

He then again offered the same fork up close to her mouth, which she rejected it this time around.

“I thought you loved the the cream!”

“I don’t want it anymore.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“Yes Kurt and you know what I want now.”

“Okay, I’ll have it then, just after I put this back because you no longer need to see things, right?” He’d covered her eyes again by now, to which she said nothing and stayed still.

The following seconds, she felt a strong contrast sensation between the coolness of the cream over her chest—being applied there—and the warmth of Kurt’s tongue licking it all over there. Moan out loud at the sensation was all she could do, and feel like falling down from pleasure was all she felt before she was caught close to his body, lifted, and laid upon the bed in matters of seconds. 

Then he was everywhere. She felt him everywhere all at once. Stroking, kissing. His fingers tugging at the remaining the underwear she still had on until he stripped them off. His mouth wet and sucking over her. Nipping teeth. Hoarsely voiced words of love and praise.

He tore his lips from hers then pulled back for a bit, during which she breathed heavily, still feeling the staying power of his kisses and strokes all over her body. And before long, she felt him lift the blindfold and toss it aside.

Wide-eyed, Jane stared at him in appropriation: he was so charming, fully naked. For all her impatience earlier, though, she didn’t seem to rushe now. She brought him closer that theirs lashes brushed against each other yet their eyes maintained opened to the fullest as she brushed away what she could from the sweat building up all over his back with her palms.

“Have you concluded, if it is true or not? What I have told you earlier.” Kurt only intended to keep his voice quiet, but it emerged so, so soft.

She swallowed, her hand making its very obvious way to the length of him. “I don’t think...I don’t think it’s true.” She managed to say, as she guided him to the inside of her warmth. The two muffed their moans by joining their mouth together before Jane grinned, gasped as it got intense, the sensation, then breathed out. “It might be true, though...for me, touching and...looking at you like this feels so good...So damn good.”

Kurt grinned then kissed her in the neck, allowing her to catch her breath before he settled on the right position to take her in.

“You impressed me a lot today—breathing—come on, impress me some more.” She mumbled in encouragement, and he laced his fingers through hers, pinned them against the pillow, then began doing his magic on her.

Briefly after this round followed by another, the two were bathed in sweat, lying down impossibly close to each other on top of perfectly made bed that had every corner of its blanket still fitted in the right place. But when they gained some strength back, they rose and talked for whatever had reminded of the night, pressing kisses or throwing light punches every now and then.

 They talked dirty, lovingly, and everything in between. Among the talking, Jane cupped Kurt’s face with a smirk in her face and threatened him, “When your birthday comes, I’ll whip your back as my gift for you and you won’t say anything about it.”

“Will you remember my Birthday when it comes?”

“I will! Just because mine slipped my mind doesn’t mean yours will.”

“Will see about that.”

Even after two in the morning, they refused to go to sleep. Instead, they poured some more alcohol and drunk it together as though they were opponents in a contest, who would drink more and do it faster.

As for the present time, Jane smiles as these memories of last night start to surface. Next she pulls off the blanket, and just when she’s making progress to get up, she collapses back against the mattress with a groan. Her head is heavy like a rock. Tense. It almost feels like there’s an iron ring tightening around her skull, to which grimaces, realizing what a serious hangover she is going to have for the next few hours.

Bringing her fingers up to her temples and massages it there while inhaling every bit of air her lungs could take in. She wonders what time it is. It must be late-morning or noon, she guessed and continued massaging her temples, and did that for a while, closing her eyes in the process.

When she feels the slightest progress, she wraps herself with a robe, gets out of bed, and goes straight to the far wall, where she draws the curtains and open the door to the balcony.

It’s a refreshing morning, and the room is in desperate need of fresh air. It also is chilly outside, but not what you would call cold. She can smell Fall in the air, and she loves that feeling so much.

The sunlight streams in and the curtains rustle in the breeze. Behind her back, she begins to feel of heat coming—that heat must be coming from another body. She then turns around and, without even looking into his face, she presses her entire being against him in a generous hug.

“Do you feel the same way I feel right now?” He asks with a chuckle, his mouth against the top her head as she shakes it yes. “Yeah, but it’s definitely worth it for me. How about you?”

He only chuckles some more.