#I bought the book now I need a matching bookmark right?

[fogdraws]

I gave up on the pixel art thing (not bcz of the pixel art in itself but because I'm too lazy to actually do any cross-stitching) so I'm making my own bookmark since I still want to have merch made by myself <\3

Doing the design digitally and thinking abt printing it out? Idk

[ganggangscenarios]

Bound by desire (Part 1/2)

Part 2

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Romance, comedy, dark, angst

Warnings: Dark Magic, mentions of sex

Writer's note: I've been sitting on this one for a while, I hope you enjoy it!

The sharp scent of candle wax lingered in the air as a puff of smoke erupted in your living room, curling like storm clouds in a hurricane. When it finally parted, you were met with the sight of a man—a stunningly handsome man. His hair mirrored the hue of the dissipating smoke, a soft, smoky purple-grey that matched his piercing eyes. Pale skin stood in stark contrast to his obsidian outfit, tailored to perfection, and glittering silver adorned him—a ring for every finger, charms dangling from each ear, catching the faint light.

You did what any rational person would do. You screamed.

“Okay, dramatic.” He raised a dark brow, unimpressed by your outburst.

“Who—what—how did you get here?!” you stammered, pressing yourself against the wall.

“You summoned me.” His voice was smooth, with a touch of exasperation, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart dropped. “Summoned? I didn’t summon anyone!”

“Oh, you didn’t?” He folded his arms, tilting his head. “Let me guess. You read some ‘random’ words aloud while lighting a black candle?”

“I was practicing Latin!” you protested, voice trembling. “And the candle wasn’t black; it was called Midnight Mist. I bought it on sale!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Midnight Mist, black, same difference. And those weren’t just random words; that was an incantation.”

It clicked, and dread flooded you. “Oh, no. The book.” You gestured wildly toward a worn leather-bound volume sitting innocently on your coffee table. “I got it from this tiny shop. I just wanted to practice my Latin, and the salesperson said this book would be perfect!”

“Well, congratulations,” he said, throwing himself onto your couch as though he owned it. “You managed to summon me. An incubus.”

You blinked. “A what?”

He grinned, sharp and wicked. “An incubus. You know, the demon who, according to lore, shows up to fulfill certain... desires.”

You froze, your brain scrambling to keep up. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re here to—what? No. That can’t be right.”

“Don’t take my word for it.” He kicked his boots up onto your coffee table like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Check the book.”

Fumbling, you flipped through the pages until you found the bookmarked spell. Your eyes skimmed over the description, your voice trailing off as you read aloud: “‘An incubus is a demon in male form who lies upon sleeping women to—’ Oh my God.” You snapped the book shut, glaring at him. “Death by sex?!”

He held up his hands, palms out. “Relax. That’s old-school. We’ve updated the playbook.”

“What does that even mean?!”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Consent. It’s mandatory now. No more lurking in shadows or creeping into bedrooms uninvited. Honestly, most of us found the old ways pretty gross.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re telling me demons have... ethics now?”

“Yeah. HR’s been cracking down. Very progressive workplace these days.” He flashed a smug grin. “But don’t worry. I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to fulfill the terms of your little summoning spell. My job is to... help you, shall we say, get lucky.”

The blood drained from your face. “I don’t need help getting... that! And if I did, I wouldn’t want it from a demon!”

“Well,” he said with a casual shrug, “you should’ve thought about that before you summoned me. I can’t leave until I’ve completed my task.”

“What? No! There’s got to be a way to undo this!” You frantically flipped through the book again, looking for a reversal spell.

“Knock yourself out,” he said, lounging comfortably. “But trust me, the only way I’m going anywhere is if I’ve done my job.”

You glared at him, the panic bubbling in your chest. “This is insane.”

“Welcome to demonology, sweetheart.” He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “Lesson one: always read the fine print.”

You were pacing the room, still clutching the cursed book like a lifeline, when the demon—no, the incubus—lounging on your couch cleared his throat. “You know, if you keep storming around like that, you’ll wear a hole in your carpet. Or summon something worse. Your choice.”

You whipped around to glare at him. “Worse than you?”

He grinned, pearly white teeth glinting. “Oh, I don’t know. You might find me pretty hard to top.”

You groaned, your hand flying to your forehead. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it, sweetheart.” He gestured to himself lazily, reclining further into your couch cushions. “And while we’re at it, you can call me Jimin.”

“Jimin?” you repeated skeptically, narrowing your eyes. “That’s your name?”

“Surprised?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he tilted his head at you. The faintest smirk played on his lips. “What were you expecting? Something dark and scary? Wratharion? Nycthor?” He made exaggerated gestures, wiggling his fingers like a cartoon villain.

You blinked. “Well, yeah. You’re a demon.”

He laughed, the sound soft yet somehow electric, like it hummed against your skin. “Oh, darling, demons don’t all have names like they crawled out of a horror movie. Some of us have a little... flair.”

“Flair?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

He stood then, crossing the room with a feline grace that sent a shiver down your spine. “Of course.” He stopped just close enough to make your breath hitch. “Jimin suits me, don’t you think?” His voice dipped, low and smooth, his smoky eyes locking onto yours.

You swallowed hard, trying not to notice the way his smirk deepened when he saw your reaction. “I think... you’re trying too hard.”

He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically like you’d struck him. “Trying too hard? Me? Darling, I don’t even have to try.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a step back, muttering, “Yeah, sure, whatever, Jimin.”

His grin widened as he followed you, playful but unrelenting. “Oh, come on, admit it. It’s a nice name, isn’t it? Rolls off the tongue.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Jiiimiiin.”

“Stop that!” you snapped, your face burning as you shoved him back, though he barely budged.

Laughing, he straightened up, hands raised in surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you’re going to shout my name later—”

“I am not shouting your name!” you interrupted, voice climbing an octave.

He only winked at you, completely unbothered. “We’ll see.”

You groaned again, louder this time, and stalked back toward the book. “Is there a spell to make demons less insufferable?”

“If there was, I’d still be exactly the same.” His playful tone followed you like a shadow, filling the room with an infuriating warmth.

You glared at him over your shoulder, ignoring the way his smirk made your pulse race. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t have a name.”

“And I think you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

“As you wish.” But the sparkle in his eye told you he had no intention of letting you off that easily.

The next morning, you hurried to work, coffee in one hand and your bag slung over your shoulder. The crisp air did little to calm your nerves. The events of the night before replayed in your head on an endless loop, made worse by the constant chatter of the very unwelcome demon striding casually beside you.

“I’m just saying,” Jimin began, gesturing toward a pigeon on the sidewalk, “summoning me might be the most exciting thing you’ve ever done. Admit it.”

“Exciting isn’t the word I’d use,” you muttered, keeping your voice low, though that didn’t stop the passing woman with a small dog from shooting you a strange look.

“Embarrassing, then?” Jimin smirked. “Endearing? Or maybe—”

“A mistake,” you hissed under your breath, quickening your pace.

He laughed, effortlessly keeping up. “A mistake that you haven’t exactly tried to undo yet. Curious, isn’t it?”

“Undoing it is the first thing on my list when I get home tonight,” you snapped. “I can’t exactly work on banishing you while I’m on my way to work, now can I?”

“Sure you can. You’ve got ten fingers, two hands. What’s stopping you from multitasking?”

“Jimin,” you warned, glancing around. A man walking his bike on the other side of the street frowned in your direction, clearly wondering who you were talking to.

Jimin tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. No one can see me unless I want them to.” He leaned closer, his voice taking on a conspiratorial edge. “You’re just the weirdo talking to herself right now.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, cheeks burning as another passerby gave you a wary glance.

By the time you reached the office, you were on edge. You darted into the break room, trying to collect yourself before your best friend, Maddie, inevitably cornered you. Jimin, however, didn’t seem interested in giving you a moment of peace.

“This is where you work?” he asked, looking around with mild interest. He wrinkled his nose. “Fluorescent lighting? Beige walls? How... uninspired.”

“Not everyone lives in some shadowy demon dimension, okay?” you shot back, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“Touché,” he said, leaning casually against the counter.

“Hey!” Maddie’s voice cut through your morning panic. She popped into the break room, her auburn curls bouncing. “Good morning—” She froze mid-step, her eyes locking on Jimin. “Uh. Hi?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait... you can see him?” you asked, voice pitching higher than you’d intended.

“Uh, yeah,” Maddie said, blinking at you. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s standing right there.”

Jimin straightened, looking genuinely surprised for the first time since he’d appeared in your life. “Oh,” he murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. “This is interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Maddie asked, crossing her arms. “And who exactly is this ridiculously attractive man following you around? Don’t tell me you picked him up at that hole-in-the-wall bar you love. You usually have better taste.”

“He’s not—! I didn’t—!” You sputtered, unsure how to explain without sounding insane.

“Relax,” Jimin interrupted smoothly, flashing Maddie a disarming smile. “I’m Jimin. A... friend of hers.”

“A friend,” Maddie repeated, one eyebrow raised. “Right. And why is your ‘friend’ lurking in the break room at 8 a.m.?”

Jimin ignored her question, stepping closer to study her intently. “You’re Wiccan, aren’t you?”

Maddie blinked, startled. “Uh, yeah. How did you—?”

“That explains it.” Jimin turned to you, his grin positively wicked now. “She’s got a little magic of her own. That’s why she can see me.”

You stared at Maddie like she’d just sprouted a second head. “Wait. Hold on. You’re Wiccan?”

Maddie blinked at you, a little taken aback. “Uh... yeah?”

“Since when?!” you demanded, gesturing wildly between her and Jimin.

“Since... forever?” Maddie said, her tone tinged with confusion. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been hiding it. You’ve seen my herb jars and crystals. And the moon water? You thought I just liked collecting mason jars for fun?”

“I thought you were into cottagecore!” you exclaimed, still reeling.

Maddie let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back. “Oh my God, no! I mean, okay, yes, it is a vibe, but—seriously? You thought I was just aesthetic?”

“Well, yeah!” you said, your voice rising in disbelief. “You bake pies and make those little flower arrangements all the time! I didn’t think they were spells!”

“They’re not all spells,” Maddie said, still grinning. “Some of them are just, you know, pies. But come on, how did you not pick up on this?”

Jimin was watching the exchange with rapt interest, his lips twitching like he was barely holding back a laugh. “You two are adorable,” he interjected, earning glares from both of you.

You ignored him, your focus still locked on Maddie. “So, you’re telling me that all this time, you’ve been practicing actual magic? Like, real magic? And you never thought to mention it?”

“To be fair,” Maddie said, raising a finger, “you never seemed particularly interested in that stuff. Plus, I didn’t want to overwhelm you. You’re... not exactly the most open-minded when it comes to the supernatural.”

“I summoned a demon last night!” you yelled, waving a hand in Jimin’s direction.

“And you’re handling it about as well as I expected,” Maddie shot back, smirking.

Jimin snorted, finally losing the battle against his amusement. “She’s got you there.”

You threw up your hands. “This is unbelievable. My best friend is secretly a witch, and apparently, I’ve been living in some kind of magical sitcom this whole time!”

“It’s not a secret if you’re just oblivious,” Maddie teased, leaning against the counter. “But I’ve got to admit, summoning a demon is a pretty dramatic way to join the club.”

“I didn’t mean to join the club!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“Relax,” Jimin said, stepping closer with an easy smile. “If you think this is shocking, wait until you hear about the vampires.”

You shot him a glare so sharp it could cut steel. “Not. Helping.”

“Just saying,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Welcome to the magical world, sweetheart. It’s gonna be a fun ride.”

Maddie grinned, clearly enjoying your meltdown. “Oh, I am so getting popcorn for this.”

You groaned again, wishing desperately that you could wake up from whatever surreal dream your life had become.

The club was alive with pounding bass, strobing lights, and a crush of bodies moving in time with the music. You barely remembered how Maddie had talked you into coming here—something about celebrating your “first step into the magical world” and needing to loosen up after a “stressful week.” It was all a blur of insistence and teasing until you’d finally caved.

Now, you were several drinks deep, your head swimming with a pleasant buzz, and Maddie was nowhere in sight. Probably on the dance floor with some guy she’d charmed into buying her a drink.

As for you, you were parked at the bar, swaying slightly to the music and trying to ignore the growing number of men approaching you.

“You’re too gorgeous to be sitting alone,” one of them said, leaning against the bar with what you assumed was meant to be a winning smile.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “I’m not alone,” you said flatly, waving vaguely behind you to where Jimin had been lurking most of the evening.

The man glanced over your shoulder, saw nothing, and frowned. “Uh, there’s no one there.”

“Exactly,” you muttered, turning back to your drink.

After the third or fourth guy tried his luck and failed, Jimin finally slid onto the barstool next to you, his presence as palpable as the beat vibrating through the club.

“You know,” he said, voice low and velvety in your ear, “for someone so good at rejecting men, you’ve got a real talent for attracting them.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to look at him. “And for someone so supposedly powerful, you’ve got a real talent for being annoying.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, cutting through the chaos around you. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re going to make me think you’re into me.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “You wish.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish.”

Before you could retort, he was on his feet, holding out a hand. “Come dance with me.”

You stared at him, half-laughing. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re drunk, and I’m irresistible,” he said with a wicked grin. “Also, it’ll keep the other guys off your back. Consider it a public service.”

You hesitated, your head swimming from the alcohol, the music, and the way his smoky eyes seemed to pull you in. Finally, you let out a sigh and took his hand. “Fine. One dance.”

He led you to the dance floor, weaving effortlessly through the crowd until you were surrounded by swaying bodies and flashing lights. The second the music enveloped you, Jimin closed the space between you.

At first, you kept your distance, maintaining a polite gap as you moved to the rhythm. But Jimin was relentless. His hands hovered at your waist, his body drawing closer with every beat, until the space between you was almost nonexistent.

The air grew thick, the alcohol dulling your inhibitions as you swayed together. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore. His breath ghosted against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re not bad at this,” he teased, his hands brushing your sides ever so lightly.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but your voice lacked the bite you’d intended.

He smirked, his lips dangerously close to yours. “You’re making it awfully hard for me to behave, you know that?”

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding louder than the music. His smoky purple eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

“Behaving is optional,” you found yourself saying, your voice barely audible over the music.

His grin widened, his fingers grazing your arm, sending sparks up your skin. “Careful, sweetheart. I might take that as an invitation.”

You didn’t reply, too lost in the way his touch set your senses alight. You didn’t even notice Maddie watching from across the room, a knowing smirk on her face as she sipped her drink.

Days melted into each other like ink bleeding through parchment. Jimin lingered around you like a shadow, ever-present but growing heavier with each passing moment. The easy flirtation that defined his arrival softened, replaced by something quieter, more contemplative.

It wasn’t lost on you, the way his gaze lingered when you laughed or how his voice softened when he said your name. The comfort between you both had grown—sometimes so tangible it felt like you could reach out and hold it. You’d kissed once, on a night when the stars were bold and the air hummed with something neither of you dared name.

But now, there was a distance. A hesitation.

Jimin had pulled away the last time you leaned in, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of something sharper. Guilt.

“What’s wrong?” you had asked, voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

“Nothing,” he’d said, too quickly, stepping back like touching you would burn.

It had been happening more and more. You didn’t miss the way he flinched when you pressed closer or how he deflected with humor when things grew too intimate. It wasn’t rejection—it was something deeper, something that weighed heavy in the air between you.

But what you couldn’t see was the storm raging inside him.

Jimin sat on the edge of your couch one evening, watching you flip through an old book Maddie had lent you. His fingers toyed with the silver rings he wore, a habit he’d developed to keep from reaching for you. He hated himself for it. For the first time in his existence, he despised what he was—despised the aura that made you gravitate toward him, the pull that was more compulsion than choice.

What if it wasn’t real? What if you didn’t actually want him?

He’d lived 400 years as an incubus, relishing in the easy connections his power afforded him, taking pride in how mortals fell to his charms. But now, the thought of you succumbing to that same enchantment made his stomach churn.

He wanted you to want him, Jimin, not the intoxicating lure of what he was.

For the first time, he felt the cruel irony of his existence. The tether to hell, his powers, his allure—it was all shackles. And for the first time, he wished he could strip it all away and just... be mortal.

But that wasn’t possible, and his superiors were growing impatient.

One evening, just as you’d fallen asleep, the flames of hell itself flickered into your living room, and a voice like crackling fire filled his mind.

“Jimin.”

He sighed, shoulders tensing as he rose from the chair. “I’ll be back,” he murmured, though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

The summons yanked him downward, into the burning depths of the underworld. The oppressive heat pressed against him as he knelt before his superiors.

“You’ve been stalling,” a voice hissed, serpentine and sharp. “Weeks have passed, and you have yet to fulfill your duty.”

Jimin didn’t look up. “I’m handling it,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Handling it?” Another voice joined, this one low and menacing. “Do not think your actions—or inaction—have gone unnoticed. We have seen your hesitation. Your... attachment.”

“It’s not attachment,” Jimin snapped, though even he didn’t believe it. “I’m—”

“You’re jeopardizing centuries of tradition,” the first voice interrupted. “Your kind exists to fulfill a purpose. To falter is to betray what you are.”

Jimin clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. “What if I don’t want to be what I am?”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating.

“And what do you wish to be instead?” the second voice asked, mocking. “A mortal? Pathetic. Fragile. Bound to the inevitable rot of time?”

Jimin looked up, defiance sparking in his smoky eyes. “At least they feel without compulsion. At least their love is real.”

The words echoed in the cavernous space, and for a moment, the air itself seemed to hold its breath. Then, the voices broke into a cacophony of mocking laughter.

“Love?” the first voice sneered. “You are a demon, Jimin. You do not love. You manipulate. You seduce. That is your nature.”

“Then maybe I don’t want it to be,” Jimin shot back, his voice rising, trembling with something dangerously close to despair.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

“Fulfil your duty, or we will ensure the girl suffers for your failure,” the second voice growled. “You are bound by your contract. Do not forget that.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

When he returned to your living room, the weight of his choice was crushing. You were still asleep, curled up on the couch, the faint light of the TV casting soft shadows across your face.

He sank into the chair, watching you.

And for the first time in his long, immortal life, Jimin felt utterly powerless.

[snek-panini]

Happy Halloween! Have a book:

This is Siren's Song by @kedreeva (Hi! I asked to bind your fic months ago, sorry it took so long XD). It's an incredible Good Omens siren AU, which needs no introduction from me but it gets one anyway. It's one of the most in-character fics I've ever read, tackles a lot of the most resonant themes of the original (love in the context of aromanticism and asexuality, human labels in the context of non-human perspective), and has incredible world-building. Later parts of the fic always make me cry but they're good tears. You'll see. When I first learned that fanbinding was a thing and started looking into how to do it, this was one of the first fics I thought of. It just took me a while to learn the skills I needed before I could do it.

More pics and process talk under the cut!

So the cover up there is black faux leather and momi paper that I bought...about two years ago? And just kept on hand till I was ready to do this project. This is the first time I've worked with it and it was fairly nice, though harder to get a nice crease into than lokta or chiyogami. It felt very fragile when I was handling it but I didn't have any issues with tearing or glue bleed-through like I thought I might. It did bleed some color when I got it damp with the glue, and it took way longer to dry than normal, but once that was done it's been fine. Which is nice because I have a lot left over, so it'll probably be making many future appearances in my binds.

Look! It's rounded! I got a backing setup recently and this is my first time using it. It was Very Hard and I am not very good at it yet. But I think it looks pretty good for a first attempt, and there was really no other way to mitigate the spine swell on this one. I used a thick paper so I've got a thick book. I also tried something new with the case, though it isn't visible. Usually I make the text block and the case separately and then attach them as the last step, but for this one I actually built the case around the text. Like, boards attached to mull/tapes (sandwiched between thinner boards, with grooves cut for them so there are no bulges), then covered with momi, then leather corners and spine, then paste down the endpaper. It's got an oxford hollow, too! The tapes and mull actually wrap around the outside of the boards instead of the inside like I've done before. Endpapers are my favorite feather chiyogami. Combined with the marbled momi they make for a very opulent look, and I had just barely enough to do this. Like, down to the millimeter. I had to trim the edges and then glue the endpapers after to be sure they were right. I'm glad they were, because I didn't have a backup plan. Handmade endbands, colors picked to match the cover. Also, last note, I got the corner bits right for the first time. Measured properly, with no weird pointy bits that come out at funny angles. Very proud.

Title page and bookmark/interior shot. Did you know that some basic fonts in MS Word look different when you use a huge font size? Because I didn't until I made this title page. That's Parchment for the title, and it only gets those swirly bits around the capital letters if you take it to 26pt or higher (I used 72 here). Now I wonder if any of the other fonts have easter eggs in them like that. The ribbon is very fancy, to go along with the rich endpaper/cover combo. I think it's pretty appropriate for a mythological golden age of piracy story, as are the text ornaments:

Chapter header image, chapter end image, and section break image. It was a very image-heavy typeset. I was originally planning to only have a header and a section break, but I couldn't decide whether I liked the ships or the book/shell/feather better, and they both suited the story so well that I just went with both. Again, opulent, but I think it fits. All the images came from rawpixel, all I did was resize them.

There was a small error in the trimming process. Comes of having to calculate so closely the exact amount you can trim off, that you have to trim off so your slightly-too-small endpapers fit. I think something got misaligned when I poked the sewing holes because only the first signature is like this. The rest of the book has a more appropriately-sized margin between the page number and the edge. I got very lucky here, and I know it, and I'm never cutting it this close (lol) again. Next time we just order another sheet of chiyogami.

And that's it! I have one author's copy and one new bind in progress right now (that's taking a while because I'm learning more new stuff for it), and then I have two Christmas gift books to do, so it might be a bit before I have another book to share.

[hms-tardimpala]

Ficbinding: Who has eight tentacles and isn't allowed to eat pie? by @no-gorms

The fic: SPN, Castiel/Dean Winchester, T, 16k

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting. Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

This fic is brilliant, it reads like one of the comedic episodes in Supernatural. I read it in one afternoon, it made me laugh out loud, but also think "Wow, I can't believe the characterization is so good with such a silly premise" several times. The concept's potential is used amazingly, you can tell the author had fun making research on octopuses. Hard recommend!

The bind: This fic is so funny, I had to make the binding eccentric too. I used holographic pleather to evoke an octopus' leathery skin. The color blue can represent an aquarium's water (Dean's new home in the fic ^^), but what I particularly like is that the holographic color changes depending on the lighting (you can see outdoors and indoors lighting in the pictures), and there's some octopus camouflage in the story, with Dean changing color.

(no need to turn the sound on, you'll get breakroom noises)

I chose the lobster endpaper because octopus!Dean eats crustaceans and fish (and I thought I'd never get the occasion to use that one!). The red headbands and bookmark match the lobsters, and red and blue really pop together.

This is my first straight spine in an age, I don't like those usually, but with this fabric I couldn't make a round spine and it turned out great! It looks clean.

Details:

I used many small octopuses as chapter headings and closings, and not one is the same. The octopus image after the author's note is a free vector and the decorations are a free font found on Dafont.

The font I used is quite round, and I printed the text big because otherwise the book would have been too small to bind in a hardcover in my opinion.

I'm very happy with my trimming this time again, and with the spacing between the edges of the cover and the textblock. It's nice to see decisions I've made after months of learning pay off. I'm officially good enough at bookbinding to disobey the manual and find my own solutions to problems 🥳

Even the corners are not as bad as they could have been with this fabric.

I love this little book! It's a pleasure to look at, it was fun to make, and having this story bound will make it easier to reread, which I certainly will do.

Fonts: Hey August (title), Trushdex (author name), Bion Book (text). All free on Dafont.

Materials: Holographic pleather, 2mm grey board, 70g/m² white copy paper, synthetic bookmark and headbands. Endpaper bought in a brick and mortar craft store.

Feel free to ask me more about materials and fonts (or whatever), it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, I just can't think of anything else right now.

[mako-and-tails-and-stuff]

Mako Mermaids Femslash Feb Day 5

I've done two for today. This one was a request from @mako-mermaids2021

 Day 5 Mystery Rita/Trumble, 814 words, Rating T

She was always a fan of a good mystery novel, a handsome detective and a good intriguing plot. Always made better with a warm cup of tea and a blanket over her feet. Now in real life mystery was fascinating but there was always something irritating about it. She liked having a sense of control over her life. She set her class schedule, the current principal was a useless old man more than happy to be relieved of any work, she set her class curriculum and she was the next in line to receive that promotion to become Principal Barbara Trumble. She was very certain of that last fact. Who else would it be? No one else even matched her calibre. 

So imagine her surprise when the next principal was announced. It was that new teacher, Rita Santos. A young graduate not long out of university. Sure she seemed a decently hard worker but then the male students always performed well for a pretty, young face. She’d seen it before, a fresh young teacher not afraid to have a few buttons undone on her top and every male fawned over them. 

There was something undeniably drawing about the woman though. She presented normal enough but there was just something different, some mystery just underneath the surface, something almost ethereal. 

The thought stopped her mid sentence of her book. What an odd, odd thought. Ethereal. That’s a word you used for things otherworldly. Not your colleague who stole your job right out from under you. 

She set her bookmark on her page, a plain wooden one she’d bought years ago on a holiday to New Zealand, and closed the book over the top.

The next morning played out in the same way it did every morning, the same routine every day, the same drive, the same walk from car park to school. Her current novel tucked away in her bag for a little lunch time reading. 

The walk from the entrance to the staffroom was interrupted by Dr Blakely and the newly anointed Principal Santos walking down the hall. The woman had already traded the more relaxed blouse and loose trousers of her normal attire for a tight tan pencil skirt and dark flowery blouse. Her dark red hair was pinned up in bun, two curls left framing her face in front of her ears rather than the usual ponytails or half updos the woman sported just last week. 

The sun shining into the open hall shone off her hair, it burned like fire in the light. Eternal flames. And there was always this sort of glow to her, it seemed more radiated today. The power of her new position must have lit some sort of internal flame. What a little validation does to a young woman. 

The conversation passed quickly and Dr Blakely left. Barbara found herself walking with the newly appointed principal, who seemed almost anxious in her presence. The halls grew emptier as they walked towards the staff room and Rita’s office. 

She took the chance to try and pry some information from the woman, she wasn’t expecting anything huge like admitting to sleeping her way to the new position like a very popular rumour would suggest but she took anything to lessen the irritating mystery that was somehow drawing her to the younger woman. 

Even basic questions seemed to make Rita cagey but she managed to draw out two facts - one, the woman was currently single; and two she had no family in the area. Both facts didn’t do anything to dispel the feeling, it just made Barbara even more intrigued.

“Unusual that a woman your age with no connections or no family would be granted such an elusive position in such a high quality educational establishment.”

“Are you insinuating something Ms Trumble?”

“Of course not Rita. I’m merely stating it was just usual is all.”

“I do not need to prove I am worth this position to anyone, I applied and I was given it. The school board obviously considered me to be suitable and that is the end of the matter.”

“You know there is more than one rumour circulating that someone like you must have slept her way up the ladder.”

Rita laughed. Actually laughed.

“They are old men and married men. I have no interest in any of them, even if it would ‘advance my career.’ I was given this job and I intend to do it well. No matter what the rest of the staff, or you, think

“We’ll see.”

“Indeed we will.”

Rita went to turn away and Barbara managed to catch her wrist and back the woman against the wall, arm held above her head. Any complaints the woman was about to make were stifled by Barbara pressing her lips against Rita’s a in deep kiss that the other woman seemed to eagerly return. 

[reidingmelodies]

The Date Jar: February

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 3.5k Includes: Mentions and consumption of food, brief discussions of a case (no specifics are given) A/N:  Part of The Date Jar series, but can be read as a stand-alone piece as well :)

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‘Time to let that inner creativity shine!  Plan a date for $20 or less (and tell me all about it xoxo)’ Your brows wrinkled at the phrase, fingers twirling the yellow popsicle in your hand as you looked out the window.  

It was February 3rd, you were missing Spencer, and your mind was a blank slate when it came to date ideas.

Spencer had been called away on a case eight days prior, his and your moods worsening with every second spent away from the other.  It was a bad one, there was no doubt about it.  It was obvious in the way his voice was tinged with exhaustion each time he managed to call you, in the way he made it a point to text you that he missed you every day regardless of the time, in the way he never answered questions about his day, all too eager to hide the disparity of the case from you to keep you from worrying.

But he was the love of your life- worrying came with the job description.

So, when you got a text from Penelope in the late evening hours warning you that the team was on their way back and Spencer would probably need a little extra loving that night, you didn’t hesitate to drop everything in favor of prepping for your reunion with Spencer.

Cups of tea were made (because even though you knew he’d prefer coffee what he’d really need was chamomile), your softest blankets and comfiest pillows were brought into the living room, and Dr. Who was playing softly on the television in front of you. The lights were dimmed, a pair of pajamas resting on the cushion awaiting his return, two containers of Jell-O situated on the coffee table.

Now, all you needed was his safe return.

Somehow, in your waiting, you had ended up in front of the window, popsicle stick in hand while you thought of ideas for your monthly date.  The task was simple, but the opportunities were endless, and you were stumped.

Spencer had insisted that you pick the date jar stick for February without him present, an idea you were vehemently against until he proposed video chatting once he was back in his hotel room so you could do it together (you really had to thank Penelope for her tech influence on him).  

Sure enough on the night of February 1st, you got a video call at 11:57 PM, your eyes bleary with sleep as you hit accept.  

And all too soon, your eyes were bleary with tears as you caught sight of Spencer’s face.

You missed him, plain and simple.  You were used to spending time apart but being accustomed to something certainly didn’t make it any easier to accept.

The ten-minute chat was the epitome of bliss, both of you purposely avoiding talk of work in favor of brainstorming twenty-dollar dates.

A bookstore?  There’s no way you’d only spend twenty dollars.  The park?  We wouldn’t spend a dime.  A diner? Too typical.  

You knew an idea would come to you sooner than later, especially when Spencer was home and safe in your arms and your brain could rest.  

For now, there was an overworked, exhausted man in dire need of a hug making his way into the apartment, and all thoughts of the date were abandoned in favor of him.

The door opened, Spencer’s slouched figure making his way into the entryway.  The bags under his eyes were prevalent from across the room, his rigid expression making way for a slight grin when he locked eyes with you.

Your legs swiftly carried you home, your arms making their way around his neck as he dropped his satchel in favor of holding your waist.

You stayed like that for what could’ve been five minutes or two hours, all too content swaying to the beat of Spencer’s heartbeat, his lips pressed against your hair.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured, breaking the silence and squeezing you impossibly closer in the process.

“Missed you too, Spence. More than you’ll ever know”.

A lingering kiss was placed on your head in response, Spencer’s arms slightly pulling back as he moved to examine you.  You did the same, taking note of the permanent frown etched on his features.  

“What do you need, baby?” you whispered, hand gently moving to trace his cheek.

“Just you,” he responded, sleep evident in his voice.

You nodded, grabbing his hand and directing him towards the couch.  Wordlessly, you handed him his pajamas and he changed into them right then and there, determinedly unwilling to be without you for the foreseeable future.

He collapsed onto the couch when he was done, forgoing the heap of blankets at the end of the sofa and opening his arms for you instead.  You quickly obliged, your head settling against his chest as his fingers mindlessly traced along your spine.

“It was a rough one,” his voice was low, your ears straining to hear him, “we weren’t able to save the last victim”.

You nodded solemnly, heart instantaneously breaking for the victim, for their family, for the team, for Spencer.  He was telling you as a means of an explanation rather than a means of a conversation, a fact you were well aware of after spending one too many nights like this, your arms wrapped around each other as though you were lifelines unwaveringly keeping the other afloat.

And so, you settled closer to him, head resting against his chest, legs heavily intertwined until his deep breaths filled the entirety of the room.  And when you were convinced he was asleep, at peace, and most importantly safe, you allowed your own eyes to close, your body finally resting serenely for the first time in eight days.

***

You awoke the next morning to a pillow underneath your head where Spencer had previously rested, your body jolting up in fear that he was prematurely called on another case.  But your worries were quickly put to rest at the sound of humming coming from the kitchen, your body filled with a mixture of relief and excitement at the sound.

You rose from your spot on the couch, body stretching in a useless attempt to make away with the aches that accumulated during the night.

It was worth it though. You’d sleep on a pile of rocks for Spencer if the situation called for it.

After your failed attempt, you made your way to the kitchen, eager to see your lover in daylight hours.

His back was to you, his blue flannel pajama pants and oversized white t-shirt looking oh so inviting as you burrowed yourself into his back, his posture instantly relaxed at the feel of your warmth against his.

“Morning, Y/N”.

You smiled into his shirt, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.  “Morning, Spence.  What are you up to?”

“I figured I’d make you breakfast, but then I remembered I don’t have the greatest track record in the kitchen, so I settled on toast with jam instead,” he shifted his body so you were face to face, your expression lighting up with mirth at the sheepish look he was sporting.

“Mm wise choice, we don’t want a repeat of last time”.

He groaned, remembering how your neighbors called the fire station when they smelled smoke coming from your apartment a few months prior.  He was trying to surprise you with a homemade meal in celebration of your promotion, but instead, you came home to an apologetic Spencer, a concerned neighbor, and a stern firefighter.  Not quite the celebration you were hoping for.

Cheeks still red but desperate to change the subject, his hand found yours in an instant. 

“Thank you for last night, Y/N.  I’m sorry you had to deal with that”.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spencer- that’s what I’m here for.  You’d do the same for me, right?” At his nod you continued, “then it’s settled.  We’re a team- I was just fulfilling my half of the bargain”.

He chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes at you.  “Only you would call our relationship a bargain”.

“Mm well it was the best deal I’ve ever gotten- walked into a museum and came out with a bookmark and a boyfriend!  I mean c’mon Spence, even you have to admit that’s a bargain”.

His lips softly met yours in response, and you watched as he pulled away slightly, leaving your foreheads brushing.  “I love you. And I still feel bad I bought the last copy of the book you wanted that day”.

You closed the gap once more, letting your lips linger for a few seconds, pulling away when the grumble of your stomach interrupted the otherwise quiet room.  “I love you, too, babe.  And don’t feel bad- now that we live together, I can read it every day if I want to.  It was all part of my master plan”.

His eyebrows rose, fingers wiggling in your direction as he moved to tickle your sides.  An uproarious laugh left your lips in response, immediately jumping backwards and retracting your statement.

“Okay, okay I lied! The book was just a bonus”.

He smirked, pulling you against him and letting his fingers dance along your sides for a moment, both of your laughs echoing throughout the room.

The impromptu tickle session was cut short at the sound of your stomach grumbling once again, his newfound mission of making you toast and a cup of coffee taking centerstage.  He released you with a gentle kiss on your forehead, your figure immediately moving to stand by his side.  Your fingers moved along his arm, gently toying with the sleeve of his white t-shirt on the ascent and fiddling with his wrist on the descent.

Toast made and coffee poured in matching ‘I ♡ Vegas!’ mugs, you and Spencer found yourself situated at the kitchen counter, dangling feet bumping into each other at every opportunity.  

His eyes were skimming over his book while yours were tracing the mug closest to you, smiling in recollection at the memory of Diana sending them to you a week after your first visit along with a note saying she wanted to get you something as colorful as the rainbow you saw out her window.

Wait.  That was it.

Your eyes turned to Spencer, taking in the way his white tee shirt hung from his frame.  He had dozens like it in your bedroom, the shirts a trusted go to when he had to pack pajamas in a rushed go bag.  

It wouldn’t hurt to add a pop of color to a few of them.

Penelope said you had to spend $20 or less on a date- and if you used clothes you already had, you were almost positive you could buy tie dye materials and have money to spare.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” his question cuts through your thoughts, your eyes meeting his to find nothing but love.

“You have a lot of white tee shirts”.

With that, love made way for utter confusion.

“Um…yes?”  His brow furrows, watching as you moved the mug into his line of sight before jogging towards the living room.

Your return was marked with his fingers tracing the sides of the mug, every inch of his being determined to figure out what had you so fascinated.

Plopping down next to him, you place the date jar stick next to the coffee, moving your legs until they rested against his calves.

“What if we did tie dye for our February date?”

“With my clothes?”

Your features soften, taking his question as a sign of hesitation.  “Only if you’re okay with it, otherwise we can find some on sale?  Or we can always do something else if this isn’t’-”

You trailed off as his left hand found your cheek, looking up to find his eyes already on you.

“We can use mine, love. I think it’s a great idea, and I wear them to bed anyway so it’s not like anyone really sees them,” he watched as a smile overtook your features before continuing, “we can do some of yours too! And maybe some plain white socks? I think we both have some buried in our drawers”.

“Oh and we can do a pair of your boxers!” you added, positively giddy at the thought.

Spencer, on the other hand, was not.

“My boxers?  Isn’t that weird?”  His lips were pursed, his hands protectively moving to cover his thighs.

You smirked, right hand moving to cover his.  “I don’t think so, it’s not like anyone’s gonna see them besides me, baby- unless Penelope hacks into my photo album again”.

You both shuddered at the thought, heat rushing to your cheeks as you remembered the shrieks she let out the last time she looked through your photos (and the ‘atta boy’s’ Derek graced Spencer with).

You shook your head, willing the memory to a far corner of your mind before squeezing Spencer’s palm.

“So, babe, what do you say? Tie dye for our date?”  You watched as his lips curled into a smile, his teeth swiftly biting his lower lip before he responded.

“Only if you dye a few pairs of your underwear, too”

That was already a given, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Spencer”.

***

You went to the store for supplies the following Saturday while Spencer mess proofed your living room floor. $18.65 later, and you were armed with a tie dye kit, two squeeze bottles, pancake mix, and a basic food dye set. The kit only cost $9.99 and sticking with the theme of the day you figured colorful pancakes were the way to go.

Surely, there wouldn’t be another kitchen incident if you were there to help Spencer.

You walked into the door, instantly greeted by a plastic tarp placed on the floor and covered in an assortment of tee shirts, underwear, socks, and pillowcases.  Spencer was amid the pile, face beaming as he placed a white bedsheet on top of the pile.

“I figured we may as well go all out, right?  Go big or go home or something like that?”

You laughed, nodding your head in his direction while you walked into the kitchen.  “That’s the spirit, Spence!”  Pancake supplies placed on the counter, you grabbed the tie dye kit and two glasses of water before taking your rightful seat next to your boyfriend on the floor.

“Ready for this, babe?”

He enthusiastically nodded, inching closer to you to help set up the dyes.  “Mm-hmm.  Did you know that the origin of tie dye traces back to the 6th century, with the first recorded instances taking place during both the T’ang Dynasty and the Nara Period?”

You looked up at him, admiring the way he licked his lips while he awaited your answer, his fingers fiddling with the top of one of the bottles of dye.

God, you were so in love with him and the infinite amount of knowledge he seemed to possess.

“That’s really cool! So, what did they use as their dye?” You questioned, eyes solely focused on your favorite view- his face lighting up every time you asked him to elaborate on one of his fun facts.

“Well, it’s quite interesting, actually,” he began, “they used natural dyes and essences from things like berries, flowers, and leaves”.

You grinned, adding the final bottle of dye to the pile that had accumulated at your feet.  “Maybe next time we can try that method”.

He nodded in agreement, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for a tee shirt.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

He observed as you put rubber bands around one of his tee shirts, blotching up the fabric in a series of places to allow the dye to spread.  Pink, purple, and red dye was splashed across the material, your glove covered hands coming in handy as you twisted and folded the shirt with each splash.

Once you were satisfied with the design, you laid it on the corner of the tarp, leaning up to give Spencer a quick kiss on his pursed lips before reaching for the next item.  He followed suit, and together you worked to the sound of giggles, bundles of socks, underwear, and shirts joining the line of finished products.

Taking a break, you watched as he mixed every color on one of his tee shirts, the colors bleeding together until they resembled the color of mud.

“Spencer!” his name came out of your mouth in a breathy huff, your smile uncontained as your hand moved to pick up the material and observe it for yourself.  

Secretly, he knew it looked awful, and he was sure whoever roomed with him on the next case would agree.

But, he also knew he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face- even if it made him the most unfashionable agent in the FBI.

“I for one think it’s gorgeous, Y/N”.

“Everything looks gorgeous on you, babe, so I’ve gotta say I’m inclined to agree”.

All this time together and his cheeks still flushed every time you complimented him.

“Can I ask you something?” The serious tone of his voice was enough to drop the smile off your face, especially when you noticed the wrinkle that had developed between his eyebrows as he awaited your response.

“Anything.  You can always ask me anything, baby”.

He took a deep breath, moving to take one of his gloves off as you mirrored his action.  Uncovered hands clasped together, you squeezed his hand between yours, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

“Do you- do you think we’ll do this with our kids one day?”  His voice was quiet, and if the room wasn’t as still as it was you would have missed the question.

It was something you had discussed in passing before, midnight pillow talk turned into discussions about future children and Punnett squares as you daydreamed of a life with the pitter patter of little feet.  Children that were made from love and taught to be kind to others, shoot for the stars, and make their mark on the world.  But, this was the first time the discussion breached daytime hours.

You pulled the other glove from your hand, motioning him closer to you as you grasped his cheeks, your eyes fully situated on each other’s.

“There’s nothing I want more, Spencer.  You’re gonna be the greatest dad one day, I just know it”.  He closed the gap between your lips at your statement, his kiss swimming with love, respect, and excitement.

You broke apart when the need to breathe became too strong, resting your forehead against his while your fingers played with the strands of hair resting at the nape of his neck.

“I have something else we can do with our future children in the kitchen, actually,” you began as you stood, leaving the mess of tie dye materials for later, all too eager to get a move on with your plans for the day.

Spencer followed suit, mind swirling with possibilities.  “Is this a good thing to do with our kids or a bad thing?”

You laughed, sneaking a peak over your shoulder at him.  “It’s a good thing!  At least I think it is.  You’ll probably hate it”.

“That’s reassuring”.

You laughed, clutching his hand in yours as you approached the kitchen.  “Ta-da!  I got some stuff to make rainbow pancakes, I figured we can layer the bottles with colors and try to make tie dye pancakes for dinner to stick with the theme”.

“You and I have very different ideas of fun- do you not remember the kitchen incident?” He shook his head with a chuckle, his actions contradicting his words as he gathered bowls to mix pancake mix and dye.

You worked together in the peaceful glow of the afternoon sun, your fingers leaving trails of colorful batter on each other’s faces with a mixture of kisses and belly laughs in between.

He bit his lip in concentration as he worked to make the perfect pile of pancakes, each slightly burnt around the edges and raw in the middle but a massive improvement from having to call the fire department.  His consisted of circles, ovals, and squares while you wrote out ‘I ♡ U’ in a sea of colors, turning the pan towards him so he could see your creation.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he sealed his words with a kiss, leaning closer as you took the opportunity to let out a confession of your own.

“I can’t wait until the day we tie dye our entire house with our hypothetical children and feed them rainbow pancakes for dinner, Spence”.

A life full of love and a house filled to the brim with happiness- it was all he ever wanted, and in this moment with you, streaks of red pancake batter splattered across both of your cheeks, he knew he was already there.

“I can’t wait either, Y/N”.

Young Spencer Reid would be proud.

***

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[thisbrokenmask]

Matching Pair

pairing: female reader x Kim Namjoon

genre: fluff, very light angst

word count: 2,266

warnings: brief mentions of struggling to conceive, hella fluff

summary: you return from a day of shopping with a surprise for your husband.

a/n: so, this fic is unbeta’d and was written on my phone, but I was too excited to write it after getting some very wonderful news today - I found out I’m going to become an auntie for the very first time next summer! I’m beyond excited, and it ended up giving me inspiration for how to finally use the ‘Fuzzy Boots’ prompt on my @btsholidaybingo​ card!

“Joonie?” you call out for your husband as you close the front door of your home, already feeling the heat of the house warming you from the growing winter chill outside. Gently putting the shopping bags containing your few new purchases down to the side, you take off your shoes and your coat and put them in the closet by the front door. You don’t hear an answering call from Namjoon, but you do find his house keys still in the little cubby in the closet when you hang yours back up, so you know he’s home.  

Heart fluttering and excitement rolling in your tummy, you grab the handles of your shopping bags and head upstairs, your bare feet sinking into the carpet of the stairs with quiet relief. Even though you decided against heels today, the several hours you spent searching for the perfect items has still left them aching and you once again pat yourself on the back for choosing a thick pile when you decorated the house.

You bite your bottom lip to try and hold back your grin as you head to your bedroom to deposit all but one of your shopping bags, although you can’t help the slight skip in your walk as you once again go over what’s about to happen. Leaving your discarded purchases at the foot of the bed to sort out later, you clutch the most important one tightly as you seek out your spouse. 

Surprisingly, he’s not in his home studio, the small soundproof room normally your first port of call on the rare days Namjoon doesn’t head into the BigHit buildings to work. No, instead you find him in the little snug-come-library at the end of the hall, a slight dip in his brow from how concentrated he is on the words in front of him.

The library was a room you both insisted on having when you found this house, as you both needed somewhere to store your vast collections of books you had amassed over your lives. The custom floor-to-ceiling shelving had been fitted perfectly for the room, with a few open spaces left for artwork to break up the visual of hundreds of book spines. 

While your respective hoards of literature had combined, there were still traces of your individual hobbies nestled among them. Several small houseplants contributed pockets of green and, as Namjoon pointed out, a sort of poetic contradiction to the many books you owned; the living among the dead, as it were. He tended to them daily, whereas your offerings required much less attention. 

In your many years of travelling before and after meeting Namjoon, you’d developed the habit of collecting one small trinket from each country or city you visited. Whether they represented particular landmarks, native animals or cultural figures, you always brought home something to remember each place by, and now many of those trinkets filled the spaces left behind by oddly-shaped books or accompanied a bonsai as it grew between the shelves. 

In the centre of the room, on top of the plush mauve rug you’d fallen in love with at first sight, sat two armchairs. They didn’t match each other, but matched you and your husband instead. You’d gotten the idea from UP!, knowing when you’d first seen Carl and Ellie’s individual chairs that you wanted to do that with your future partner. And the library became the perfect place for these perfectly mismatched chairs, another way to show how the two of you had come together in this room that housed so many of your joint passions. 

Your chair, currently empty, was the plushest wingback chair you’d ever seen; a beautiful, royal blue velvet chair that made you feel like you were in a house that could be found in a Jane Austen novel. Your husband’s chair, in which he was now sat, was burnt orange in colour, square and simple in shape, with arms curled over to remove any harsh lines. You’d hated it, initially, but the more you’d seen it on the shop floor and then saw your husband lean back into its cushions, the more you decided that it suited him, and that was what mattered. Despite its simplicity, it was a bit too big for you to sit in comfortably, although you would often climb into it and burrow under several blankets when he was away.  

You’d now grown accustomed to the barrage of colours and styles in your little library, a fondness for the apparent chaos that still shocked newcomers, making you giggle every time. 

As you so often find yourself doing, you take a second to admire Namjoon in his studious reading pose: one leg resting across the knee of the other, his right elbow propped up on the armchair and his hand cradling his chin, index finger extended across his lips in contemplation. His left hand cradles his book seemingly effortlessly, his simple gold wedding band glinting in the warm orange of the afternoon winter sun that pours in through the window across the room. It’s still the only golden piece of jewellery he wears, and it still makes your heart bloom every time you catch sight of it. 

In the split second you’ve taken in his appearance, he’s become aware of your presence. Only his eyes move at first, flicking up from the page to the door to see who’s walked in. When he sees you standing in the doorway, however, he immediately slips his bookmark into place and puts the volume down on the little table between the chairs. The ease and immediacy with which he gives you his whole attention never fails to make you feel a little giddy. 

“Hey,” Namjoon’s expression melts into his warmest smile, all traces of his previous concentration vanished at the sight of his wife. His eyes briefly drop to the bag in your hand before returning to you. “Have fun shopping?”

You nod as he extends his hand towards you, slipping your palm into his and letting him gently pull you close. He sits you in his lap, one arm curled around the back of your waist and the other gently resting across your thighs, his hand melding to match the curve of your flesh. The warmth of his palm is noticeable even through your jeans, rippling throughout your body like a breeze kissing the surface of a lake. 

“Is that for me?” he nods towards the bag by his feet, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple. 

“Nope,” you smile, then pause. “Well, I guess it kinda is. Wanna see?”

If Namjoon is confused, he doesn’t show it. He loves the way you think, loves how you can see something completely different from him when you both look at the same art pieces on your gallery trips, loves how you can find even the loosest connections between two ideas in a way he’d never thought of. He doesn’t always understand you at first, but he loves that about you, so he waits patiently for you to explain. 

You lift the bag into your lap, the hand across your thighs moving to secure it in place while you open it. You turn it away from him as you pull out the contents, but he’s not even trying to peep inside; his eyes are focused on you, on the little ways your expression changes when you get thoughtful, or excited, or anxious, and right now you’re a bit of all three. 

“Ta-dah!” you singsong proudly, presenting him with a pair of fuzzy, light brown slipper boots. You try not to giggle as his expression falters slightly, although he quickly covers up his obvious confusion with bemused intrigue, gaze jumping between you and the boots as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on. 

“These… are for me?” he can tell just by looking at them that the boots are way too small for him, they’re definitely your size, and he’s struggling to figure out how they could be ‘kinda’ for him. 

“No, these ones are mine, silly!” you laugh, gently bopping the tip of his nose with your finger. The relieved sigh that falls past his lips only keeps your laughter rolling and he loves the sound, cheeks dumpling as he grins up at you. 

“Of course,” he agrees easily, smirking down at the boots as you gently run your fingers through the fluffy material, then cocks his eyebrow. “So how am I involved in this?” he pauses, then tilts his head to one side. “You’re not going to wear them to bed, are you? I know I said your feet are cold but I actually don’t mind it so much anymore-”

“These ones are mine,” you say, cutting him off, holding up your boots for emphasis before twisting in his lap to put them on the floor. His hand on your waist reflexively holds you tighter to keep you from toppling. 

When you then look at him with a smile he can only describe as mischievous, he knows he’s fucked: he’s a sucker for your playfulness, willingly walking into even your silliest pranks just to see your face light up and hear the melody of your laughter when you celebrate your victory.

His mind whirs through every option he can think of that could somehow relate those fluffy little boots to himself. Maybe you’ve bought him new slippers too, but like your mismatched chairs they’ll be different styles, perfectly suiting each of you in a way that makes them work together. Maybe you’ve actually bought him matching ones and he can’t decide what will be worse: having to wear them to please you or refuse to wear them to please himself. He feels the smallest flicker of heat in his cheeks when he considers fluffy handcuffs, but he dismisses that though when he remembers how your gaze darkens whenever you get out the pairs you already own rather than brightens, like it has done right now. 

He’s at a loss, but you don’t make him wait much longer before you grant him an explanation. 

“They didn’t have matching daddy boots, unfortunately, but-” he doesn’t have time to register the term when you pull out the remaining items in the bag with a flourish. “They did have these matching baby boots, and I just couldn’t resist!”

He stares down at the little pair of fuzzy boots, the same light brown colour as yours. They’re barely bigger than your palm as they sit side by side and he doesn’t know how something so small can knock all of the air from his body. 

He can’t speak, can’t swallow, almost can’t breathe. He can only stare. 

You watch as Namjoon’s features drop and give him a few moments to process the sight in front of him. You’re sure your lip is about to bleed with how hard you’re biting into it, desperate to cry and cheer and celebrate with him but wanting to give him his processing time. 

When he doesn’t say anything after a longer time than you were expecting, you begin to worry he’s upset rather than shocked. When he finally speaks, though, his tone is so level you genuinely think he’s angry. 

“Y/n,” he says, gaze lifting to meet your eyes and locking onto them. You feel his body grow tense beneath you, the grip on your waist tightening and releasing as he battles with the emotions building in his chest. “Who are these for?” His throat bobs with a dry swallow and you feel your stomach drop a little bit, suddenly realising how this may have come across to him. 

You and Namjoon got married nearly two years ago now, and you’ve been trying for a baby for just over a year. During that time, Namjoon has found more than one or two bags of baby clothes tucked away in your side of the closet, onesies and booties in varying designs and colours despite the fact that none of your attempts had been successful. His heart had broken for you every time, knowing how desperate you were to become a mother, but, despite his own deep-seated desire to be a father, he’d insisted you return the items each time and forbade you from bringing home anymore baby items that weren’t gifts for expecting friends or relatives. It was painful for him, too, to keep seeing the negative pregnancy tests in the bathroom trash, but he knew that it would only hurt more if you kept the clothes with no baby to fill them. 

It had been months since you’d last even looked at the baby aisles in any stores, but today was the day things changed. 

“They’re for us,” you told him gently, the words barely above a whisper yet filling the space between you. You see the tears begin to well in his eyes at the same time his grip on you tightens one last time. He stares up at you, eyes wide and watery and full of hope, and you let the widest grin loose on your lips. 

Leaning forward to touch your forehead to his, both yours and Namjoon’s eyes fall closed. Shuddering breaths push at the air between you, your hand pressing to his chest to feel the way his heartbeat gallops under your palm. Your own tears start to glide over the apples of your cheeks as you finally let the weight of your news overwhelm you, knowing that you’re both finally going to see your dreams come to life. 

“They’re for our baby.”

If you would like to read any of my other works, please follow me and head on over to my masterlist ♡

[idk-mlb-is-reals-cute44]

Blossoming

Hey @queerymiracle ! I’m your (backup) secret santa! Sorry it’s so incredibly late!! I hope you like it. 

@mlsecretsanta 

AO3 Link 

Summary: It starts with a bouquet. It ends with one too. A series of moments in which Kagami, Adrien, and Marinette realize they might just be perfect for each other.

K A G A M I 

It must have started on a Tuesday. Kagami remembered this, because Ladybug had kidnapped her that day on her way to fencing practice to fight an akuma, and Kagami had fencing practice on Tuesday. 

The akuma in question wasn’t particularly special. Some college student who got his heart stomped on. There had been four nearly identical akumas that month alone. 

Still, Ryuko took every akuma seriously. 

Usually. 

She had just been thrown into a wall when she spotted them. 

In the mad dash to get away from the madman in bright pink, it seemed someone had dropped a bouquet on the sidewalk. They were a little crumpled… but… 

Ryuko’s mind stayed on the flowers for the remainder of the battle. 

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybug cried, throwing her polka-dotted taxidermied deer into the air. 

“That was awesome, m’lady!” Chat yelled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Ladybug laughed. 

“You say that everytime.” 

She turned to Ryuko, who was fidgeting restlessly. 

“You did very well in this battle-” 

“One second!” Ryuko called, dashing down the alley. 

Scooping up the bouquet, now full of life, she sprinted back and shoved them into Ladybug’s hands. 

“Here,” she said, and smiled. 

“O-oh,” Ladybug stammered, “Are these for me?” 

Ryuko nodded. 

“Thank you,” Ladybug said, and then, “Why?” 

“I…” Ryuko didn’t know. Still, her mouth opened, and without her permission formed the words, “You look very pretty today.” 

“That’s my line!” Chat Noir called from outside of the ally. 

Ryuko opened her mouth again, but no words came out. Blushing and not sure why, she quickly took off her choker and gave it to Ladybug, already turning to leave.  

***

Then it happened again. And again and again. Picking a rose for Adrien as they walked together. Buying a bouquet on her way to school and thinking of Marinette. Tucking a dandelion chain into Ladybug’s hair. She did it unthinkingly, almost instinctively. 

It came to a head on a Wednesday. Kagami remembered it was a Wednesday, because on Wednesday’s she tutored her classmate Mark, and she was picked up off the street outside of Mark’s house. 

“What’s the akuma?” she asked, squirming into a more comfortable position in Ladybug’s arms. 

Ladybug blushed, the first sign that the evening was not going to go as usual. Ladybug didn’t blush, or at least not when talking about akumas. She was cool and collected in the midst of battle and strategizing, which meant that what she was about to say was neither. 

“No akuma,” she mumbled, “I just wanted to… I wanted to do this thing for you, because… I mean, well…” 

Ladybug trailed off and didn’t explain herself further, face not unlike a fire truck or some other incredibly red thing. 

Kagami weighed her options and decided not to ask again. She would surely find out soon enough. Instead she admired the color of Ladybug’s cheeks, which seemed, impossibly, to grow even brighter. 

Ladybug’s heels skidded against the concrete of the roof as they landed. 

“Here,” Ladybug said shortly, avoiding Kagami’s eyes as she set her down. 

Kagami turned to find… well. She wasn’t sure what it was. 

Sitting on the center of the roof was a collection of flowers unlike any Kagami had seen before. Not that they were some unknown species, but they were arranged in the shape of a heart. Ladybug had to have bought out an entire flower shop to make the arrangement. 

Kagami hadn’t seen anything like this outside of the stupid k-dramas Adrien made her watch. (She silently apologized to all the protagonists she’d made fun of. Her heart was fluttering. Should she go to the doctor?) 

“W… what is this?” Kagami asked, totally blindsighted. 

Ladybug coughed awkwardly. 

“Um… well,” she laughed, noticeably higher than she usually did, “You were just.. Always giving me flowers and I thought it was so nice, so I thought you might like some in return. It’s probably dumb though! I’m sorry, I was-” 

“It’s not,” Kagami said, nodding shortly at Ladybug. “It’s not dumb. Thank you.” 

“Oh,” Ladybug said softly, “Thank you.” 

Kagami strode forwards and studied the flowers critically. 

“What are you doing?” Ladybug asked. 

“Trying to figure out how to pick it up,” Kagami said, “I want to keep it in my room.” 

Ladybug giggled. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to,” Kagami said, wrapping one arm under the base and holding the other side to steady it. Pushing with her legs, she picked it up- 

And toppled over. 

“Oof,” Kagami said, the air rushing from her lungs as her back hit not-the-ground. 

Not the ground indeed. 

Ladybug’s unfairly strong arms wrapped around Kagami, her chest shaking with laughter. 

“Let me help you with that,” she said, pressing a kiss to the side of Kagami’s head. Seeming to realize what she did a second after it happened, she let out a squeak.  

Kagami felt her own cheeks warm to match Ladybug’s. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

***

“Adrien,” Kagami said very seriously, turning to him, “I have something I would like to talk to you about.” 

“O-okay,” Adrien said, putting down his video game counsel to mirror her, legs crossed and facing each other on his sofa. “Is everything okay?” 

“Maybe,” Kagami said, and then scrunched her face up, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

Adrien leaned forwards, then leaned back, looking (adorably) confused. 

“You don’t… have to?” he said. “I mean, don’t worry about that, actually. What do you want to talk about?” 

Kagami took a fortifying breath. 

“I think I’m in love with Ladybug,” she said, “And I apologize, because I know the two of us are… somewhat involved.” She thought for a second. “Pre-involved.” 

Adrien tilted his head and then laughed. 

“No need to make fun of me,” Kagami said, feeling off-kilter. She hadn’t been expecting him to laugh. 

“No, no,” he said, “I’m not. Me too.” 

“What?” 

“I’m in love with Ladybug too,” he said, “Well. Sort of. It’s complicated. I’m trying to move on, I think.” 

“Oh,” Kagami said faintly, blinking four times rather fast, and then settling into this new information. “Oh I see. So we’re rivals, then.” 

“Uh,” he looked stricken, “I guess. I guess so.” 

“Well.” She held her hand out to shake. He took it. 

He had a firm grip. 

“Well,” he repeated, and then neither of them spoke for several moments, still shaking hands. 

Finally, Adrien picked back up his counsel and resumed the game, and Kagami picked up her book from where she had left it, bookmark perfectly snug against the spine and red-side-up, and opened it. 

She leaned her head against his shoulder as she had been before. 

“What does being rivals entail?” Adrien asked, attention seemingly completely taken by the videogame. Still, Kagami noticed he botched a few hits he usually performed easily. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, 

“Do we have to like… compete?” 

Kagami thought about this. 

“Not necessarily,” she said, “I suppose we can have… an understanding.” 

“An understanding?” Adrien asked. 

“May the best man win. You know. We’re in love with the same girl but… we can still be friends.” 

“Friends.” Adrien smiled. “Good.” 

Kagami settled into his side more firmly and resumed reading. 

***

“Here,” Chat Noir said. 

Ryuko stammered rather intelligibly. “I- what- eu- you can’t-” 

Chat tilted his head, curious. 

“What are you talking about?” 

He looked down at the flower crown he was holding. 

“Do you not like it?” he asked then, looking rather sad. 

“No!” Ryuko yelled, quite a bit louder than she had intended to be. “No,” she said again, quieter, “It’s just so… so romantic?” 

Chat Noir stared down at the crown, uncomprehending. Slowly, his face turned red. 

Ladybug giggled. 

“Oh, come on,” she said, rolling her eyes, “He doesn’t mean anything of it. He gives me flowers all the time.” 

“You give her flowers?” Ryuko cried, “That’s my thing!” 

“Your thing?” he yelped, affronted, “That can’t be your thing! I’m the one who’s in love with her!” 

“You’re what?!” Ladybug asked, voice shrill. 

“You’re not the only one!” Ryuko said, “Get in line!” 

“You’re what?!” 

Chat Noir gasped in the most outrageously offended way, resembling a genuine cat puffing up in indignance. 

“I saw her first!” 

“She’s not a prize or a shotgun seat to call dibs on!” 

“Well! She’s my partner!” 

“She doesn’t even know your real name!” 

“You don’t know her’s!” 

“Neither do you!” 

“SHUT UP,” Ladybug yelled, face red. “Can someone explain to me what is going on right now? You guys aren’t… You guys aren't- I mean, you-” 

Which, of course, was when the akuma attacked. 

***

A D R I E N 

Kagami was waiting for Adrien when school let out. 

At least, Adrien thought Kagami was waiting for him. And she was, sort of. He didn’t expect her to snag Marinette too. 

“Come with us,” she said in the awkward, imposing way she did most things, grabbing Marinette’s hand as she strode down the sidewalk towards the park. 

“I- okay,” Marinette said, clearly as baffled by this turn of events as Adrien was. 

Kagami led the two of them to a picnic table. 

“You two are my only friends,” she started, shifting awkwardly on the bench, “And so I’d like to ask you some advice.” 

Only friends? Marinette mouthed to Adrien, looking sad. Adrien shrugged and turned back to Kagami. 

“What with?” 

Kagami blushed. 

“I have… feelings. For a girl. I would like to know how to pursue her. Or, ah… make her like me.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said, “Who?” 

“Aren’t we rivals?” Adrien asked, “Am I supposed to give you advice?” 

“We are honorable rivals,” Kagami said to Adrien, “So we are allowed to aid one another in the spirit of good sportsmanship.” And then to Marinette, she said, “The girl is Ladybug.” 

“You’re in love with Ladybug?” Marinette asked, face carefully blank, and then to Adrien, “Wait, you’re in love with Ladybug?” 

“We’ve already covered that,” Kagami said, and Adrien nodded. 

“Oh,” Marinette said, looking faint. 

“You seem distressed,” Kagami noted, “You aren’t also in love with her, right? That’s too many rivals.” 

“N-no,” Marinette said.”I’m not… in love with Ladybug.” 

“Good,” Kagami said. 

“What have you been doing so far?” Adrien asked. 

“Flowers,” Kagami said, pulling out a notebook, “But I have a whole bunch of ideas.” 

“I-it sounds like you don’t really need our help then,” Marinette said. 

“Your feedback is invaluable to me,” Kagami said, ���I can’t possibly do all of these.” 

She flipped the five or so pages of ideas back and forth, looking at Adrien and Marinette with something resemblant of puppy dog eyes. If puppy dogs looked like they regularly kicked your butt in fencing and knew it. 

“I… sure,” Marinette said, sounding somewhat resigned. Adrien looked questioningly towards her. She was usually so enthusiastic to help. 

“First off,” Kagami said, “We have buying her a car. I saw that in a movie.” 

“Don’t do that one,” Adrien said, “Nino told me people don’t buy each other cars. It isn’t done.” 

“Why not?” Kagami asked. He shrugged, and the two of them looked at Marinette. 

“I-I don’t know,” she said, and growing rather flustered, continued with, “Maybe you should just… uh, compliment her. Show her that you hare. Care. Show her that you care, a-and maybe. Um. Maybe you could flirt with her?” 

“How do you do that?” Kagami asked, taking notes. 

“Puns,” Adrien offered. 

“No,” Marinette shot down immediately, to Adrien’s disappointment. “Just… you know…” 

She gestured vaguely. 

“What does that mean?” Kagami whispered to Adrien. 

“Look, I don’t know,” Marinette blushed, “I’ve never been all that good with… f-flirting.” She coughed awkwardly. “And people haven’t really flirted with me. Just… be nice to her.” 

“Am I not nice?” Kagami asked. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Marinette said, “No, no, you’re nice. Just. You know. Eye contact. And um… play with your hair. And wear red.” 

“Oh, I read that wikihow article too,” Adrien said, causing Marinette to turn a shade redder. 

“Eye contact,” Kagami mused thoughtfully. 

***

“I’m not gonna open my eyes until the two of you stop it,” Ladybug groaned, exasperated, hands over her eyes. 

“We’re not doing anything,” Chat Noir said, staring unblinking at her. 

“Yes, you are,” Ladybug grumbled, sitting down on the tiled roof, “Stop… looking at me like that.” 

Chat Noir smiled. Romance novel characters said that all the time. His plan was working. 

He glared at Ryuko, who was a foot away from Ladybug and peering at her owlishly. His plan, which had somehow been stolen. 

“Ladybug,” Ryuko said slowly, “On a scale from 1-10, how interested are you in me romantically at the moment?” 

“We’re supposed to be doing patrol,” Ladybug complained, “And actually doing our job. Can you two please quit it?” 

Ryuko backed off and looked sheepish. 

“Sorry,” she said. Chat rubbed the back of his neck. 

Ladybug uncovered her eyes and looked at the two of them, both rather chastised. She rolled her eyes and giggled, shaking her head. 

“You two are ridiculous,” she said. “Race you to the Eiffel Tower!” 

***

Adrien found a book in the library. Technically, he had a strict reading regime. He was predicted to finish reading his 20th classic novel of that year in two weeks. But he’d seen in movies that people hid magazines in textbooks, so he did this with the book he found in the library. 

He wasn’t sure why he decided to check out that particular book. The subtitle had been something about romance and he was determined to up his game now that Ryuko and Kagami were in the running. 

As soon as he finished it, he called up Kagami. 

“We don’t have to be rivals,” Adrien said. 

“What are you talking about?” Kagami asked, “Are you giving up?” 

“No, no, no,” Adrien said, “I’m just a genius. I read a book.” 

“You’ve never read a book before?” (And Adrien would be peeved if she didn’t sound genuinely confused.) 

“Look, polyamory,” Adrien said, “It’s like… a thruple.” 

“That word sounds gross,” Kagami said, “Is the meaning as gross as the word sounds?” 

“No,” Adrien said, “Look it’s like… a three-person-couple. A thruple. Ladybug can date both of us!” 

“You mean like… how in Taitoru O Hyōji, Ren, Ayumu, and Misaki share a powerful love connection that can withstand time itself?” 

“I haven’t seen that anime,” Adrien said, “But yes.” 

“It’s on Crunchyroll, we can watch it together on Sunday,” Kagami mentioned. 

“Sweet. Anyway, we can do that! Be three people in a couple. Or… a thruple.” 

“I agree to this only if you stop using the word thruple,” Kagami said after a moment of contemplation. 

Adrien felt a grin break over his face. “Great. Great.” 

“We should leave flowers on the Eiffel Tower for her, so no one else can find it.” 

“I know a great florist,” Adrien said thoughtfully, forgetting to wonder how she planned to get the flowers up there in the first place. 

***

Adrien was going to break out into hives. Or something. Maybe he’d drop dead on the spot. He sure felt like he was about to go into cardiac arrest. 

“Chaton?” Ladybug asked, “Are you okay?” 

“You got me flowers,” he said, voice cracking over the last word. 

“Y-yeah,” Ladybug said, “Is that okay? There was… a sale.” 

“Yes, that’s okay,” he said, carefully accepting the bouquet of daisies. He buried his face in them. “Thank you.” He smiled, and he was sure he must look a little weird, deducing from the fact that his cheeks hurt and his eyes were probably all crinkled, but he really didn’t care. His lady had given him flowers. 

“Y-you’re welcome,” Ladybug said, turning red. 

“Is there a reason?” he asked, “For the flowers?” 

“You deserve nice things,” Ladybug said, suddenly looking like she was ready to fight him if he argued. 

He plucked a single flower and tucked it behind her ear. 

“There’s totally a book I should lend you.” 

***

Adrien and Marinette were partnered up for a history assignment. 

“Ideas?” Adrien asked, tilting his chair back just far enough that he probably wouldn’t fall, pencil poised over a notepad. 

“Maybe we could do, um,” she said, then paused to think and scrunched up her face adorably, “Aqueducts?” 

“A-kwa-ducks,” Adrien said slowly, sounding it out as he wrote it down. 

“That’s kind of boring, though,” Marinette said. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing it if you wanted to,” he said, peering at her over the note pad to smile at her. 

She dazed off for a second, spacing off as she stared at his face. 

“U-uh, I mean,” she said, suddenly blushing and turning towards the desk so fast she knocked over her water bottle with her elbow, “I don’t really haunt-want-I don’t really want to do aqueducts. It was just the first… thing I thought off.” 

“Okay,” Adrien said, “How about…  flowers?” 

“Flowers?” Marinette asked, cheeks still mysteriously red and eyes laser-focused on the grain of the wood in front of her. 

“Yeah like… the language of flowers in history,” Adrien said, “Like how daisies mean innocence and purity and all that stuff. That’s because they were some goddess’s flower symbol I think.” 

“Really?” Marinette asked, finally turning back towards him. 

“Yeah,” he said, “I looked it up.” 

“That could be, um, cool,” Marinette said. 

“Do you like flowers, Marinette?” he asked, and somehow he wasn’t really sure what he was actually asking. 

“Um… yes?” Marinette timidly answered. 

The next day, a bouquet of tulips showed up on her desk. Adrien very carefully did not research what they meant before he bought them. It made it easier to pretend he didn’t absolutely know what he was trying to say. 

***

“Some things have come to my attention,” Adrien said the next time he and Kagami hung out. 

She tilted her head to signify he should continue. 

“Right,” he took a deep breath, “We can date each other. Too. In our thr- uh, I mean, our… couple for three. We can date each other too.” 

Kagami looked thoughtful. 

“Do you want to date me?” she asked. 

“Um,” he reined in his nervous giggles, “Uh, yes. I do.” 

Kagami scratched her hands absently through his hair, his head resting in her lap as the cartoony fight scene continued on screen. 

“I guess that could be nice,” she said, allowing a small smile. “I was rather disappointed when I had to break things off when we became rivals.” 

“I think I was too,” Adrien admitted. 

Kagami frowned then. 

“I’m not good at… emotions,” she said, “I know I like you a lot but I’m just not… I don’t know how to. Have them. Emotions.” 

“That’s okay,” Adrien said softly, reaching up awkwardly next to his head to pat her knee, “We can figure it out together.” 

Kagami’s frown smoothed out, and then her face was very close to Adrien’s. Very, very close. 

“We never kissed, before,” she observed. 

It turned out that they did kiss, after. Adrien didn’t remember how the movie ended. 

***

A L Y A (interlude) 

Alya was worried. 

“Marinette,” she said, a little desperately, “You can’t honestly be trying to convince me you aren’t bothered that Kagami and Adrien are dating now.” 

“Uh,” Marinette chewed on her lip absently as she flipped the page of the fashion magazine, “I don’t know, Alya. It’s fine.” 

“You can’t expect me to believe you feel oh-so-neutrally about it,” Alya said, “You can’t expect me to believe you’re over Adrien when just yesterday you basically waxed poetic about his eyes.”  

“I’m not,” Marinette said, most of her attention very clearly on Vogue’s new jacket line, “I can have a crush on him and be happy for him and his girlfriend at the same time.” 

Alya didn’t say anything, just squinted. 

“Suuuuuuuure,” she finally drawled, taking a pointed bite from her sandwich. Lunch was almost over, but she was getting to the bottom of this. 

***

“Look,” Alya said, “Adrien posted about Kagami on his Instagram.” 

Marinette took the phone from Alya. 

“Awww,” and Alya thought, victory, but then, “They’re so cute!” 

“You’re kidding me,” Alya snatched the phone back and scrolled through the slides. There was one of them holding hands and two of them sharing ice cream. “You’re not even a little jealous?” 

“Nope,” Marinette said, popping the p. 

“Really?” Alya asked, incredulous. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal Alya!” 

“So just like that?” Alya asked, raising her eyebrow, “You’re just… giving up on your crush? You’ve been crazy about Adrien for ages!” 

“I didn’t say I was giving up,” Marinette said, “I just… don’t mind that they’re dating.” 

“How do you not mind?!” Alya asked, scrolling through Adrien’s Instagram. “He’s clearly serious about her!”   

“Yeah, I know,” Marinette said, “Look, are we gonna work on the math homework or not?” 

Alya gaped after her. 

***

“What are you reading?” Alya asked, dumping her bag on the floor as she swung into her seat. 

Marinette held the book up without comment so that Alya could read the cover. 

“The Modern Romantic, How to communicate and form healthy relationships,” Alya read aloud. “Hm. That looks like something my mom would read.” 

“It’s actually really interesting,” Marinnet said, “A friend lent it to me.” 

Alya’s eyebrows crept up to her hairline. 

“A friend lent you a book about forming healthy romantic relationships?”Alya asked. 

Marinette blushed and buried her face in the book. 

“Shut up,” she mumbled. 

***

“Alya,” Marinette said, “I’m gonna need you to wear this.” 

“Why?” Alya asked, taking the blazer from her. 

“Because this is a business meeting.” 

Alya, thoroughly confused, put on the blazer. 

“Good, good,” Marinette said, clearing her throat and slamming a giant binder on the table between them. “I’m going to need you to talk me out of a spectacularly bad idea.” 

“Story of my life,” Alya said, snorting, “What idea of yours is so bad you need a business meeting?” 

Marinette flipped to the first laminated page. 

“Polyamory,” she said, in the very same voice she uses when doing school presentations, “Is when people consent to a non monogamous relationship.” 

“Yes, I’m aware” Alya said slowly, “I wasn’t born yesterday, girl.” 

“One type of polyamory is,” Marinette continued, flipping the page and ignoring Alya, “The Thruple.” 

“I’ve been on the internet before,” Alya said, “You don’t have to spell this out for me.” 

“Person A has a crush on Person B,” Marinette continued in her school presentation voice, “But Person B is in a relationship with Person C. Person C has openly admitted to having a crush on Person A. Person B’s feelings on the matter are.. unclear. What should Person A do?” 

Alya stared down at the chart before her uncomprehending for a moment. When it came to her, she looked up at Marinette so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. 

“Kagami has a crush on you?!” she asked, jabbing the red square that represented Person C rather violently. Marinette’s following blush was answer enough. 

“Oh my god,” Alya said, and then let out a laugh, “Oh my god! Of course she does. You’re too cute to resist.” 

“Shut up,” Marinette said, slamming the binder shut. “What should I do?” 

“Well…” Alya scratched the side of her jaw as she thought, “I mean, do you like Kagami?” 

“I-” Marinette made a choking noise. “...uh. Yes. Maybe… yes” 

“Well then I guess just ask?” Alya said. “I mean, what do you have to lose? Just tell them how you feel! Kagami and Adrien love you, even if it’s just as friends, so it’s not like it’ll ruin the friendship forever or anything.” 

“Alya!” Marinette shrieked, “Don’t say that! Because now I’m thinking about it, and what if I ruin the friendship forever?” 

“I just said that there’s no way that’ll happen,” Alya said, rolling her eyes, “Even if they don’t want to, uh, thruple it up with you, they’re not gonna be mean about it. They’ll totally be chill, I promise!” 

Marinette smushed the heels of her palm into her cheeks, smoshing her face and looking torn. 

“You were supposed to talk me out of this,” she mumbled mournfully. 

Alya just laughed at her. 

***

“Okay, but according to this website,” Marinette said, “Lilies mean pure love, but don’t they also mean death?” 

“Stop freaking out, girl,” Alya said, plucking a brightly colored sunflower from a giant bucket, “They’re just flowers.” 

“No, they’re not ‘just flowers,’” Marinette groaned, “They’re, like, important. I’m confessing my l- my… interest in a relationship. They need to be perfect.” 

“Okay, but consider this,” Alya said, “If you don’t know what flowers mean without extensive, confusing, googling, do you think anybody else will?” 

“They’re rich, Alya!” Marinette said, “They probably know all about this sort of thing!” 

Alya let out a frustrated puff of breath. 

“Look, I get it,” she said, “You’re a details kind of person. But you need to relax! I’m sure they’ll love anything you get them.” 

Marinette sighed, fiddling with a bundle of carnations. “I know. But I just… I want it to be special.” 

Alya rolled her eyes, but she was sure the fond smile she wore ruined the effect. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll help you pick out the perfect bouquet or whatever,” Alya said, “What about roses?” 

“Too cliche,” Marinette said, shutting that idea down immediately. 

“They’re only cliche because people like them!” Alya countered. Marinette looked thoughtful. 

Thirty minutes and several rounds around the shop later, they had finally come up with an arrangement that Marinette deemed acceptable. 

“Will this be all?” the cashier asked, smiling at them kindly. 

“Uh, yes, that’s-” Marinette said, and then the screaming started. Marinette blanched. 

“Akuma,” she said. 

Alya squinted, and peered out of the glass front of the shop. 

“Uh, yeah,” she said, “Looks like it.” 

Marinette looked regretfully to the flowers, and then stammered out, “I need to go check on, uh, my parents!” 

“Wait, Mari, don’t-” 

But Marinette was gone, the only sign of her being the door jingling as it swung shut. 

Alya sighed and turned back to the cashier. 

“I guess I’m paying then,” she said, fishing out her wallet. 

***

M A R I N E T T E 

Ladybug, Chat, Ryuko, and Carapace were trapped in a box. It sounded like the beginning of some sort of themed riddle that you’d find in the back of the newspapers that Marinette’s dad read.  

But no. 

Ladybug pressed her back to the chill metal and slid, slowly, to the ground. 

“Plan, anyone?” she asked from the floor, staring at the ceiling as though it might give her an answer. 

She was supposed to be confessing to her crushes right now. Hawkmoth sure knows how to time things, she thought to herself ruefully. 

“Uh,” Chat knocked his fist against the wall, “Seems pretty solid to me.” 

“I don’t see any seams,” Ryuko mentioned, “So no hidden doorways, most likely.” 

Carapace winced. 

“Maybe if I blast at it with my shield?” 

“I mean,” Ladybug sighed, chewing on her lip, “You could try, but I don’t think it’s gonna work, and I’d rather we minimize the amount of people about to detransform.” 

Chat twitched as everyone turned to look at him. 

“I’ve got three minutes now,” he updated them, bouncing his leg anxiously. 

“That’s,” Ladybug pressed her eyes with her hands, “Fine. It’s fine. We’ll just have to figure our way out of here in the next… two minutes. And then you’ll have a minute to hide.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Ryuko said. 

Ladybug heaved herself up and started to examine the corners. 

“What are you looking for?” Carapace asked. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “But better safe than sorry.” 

“Two minutes,” Chat chimed in. 

“Okay,” she said, “Okay here’s what we’re gonna do. Chaton, do you have food for your kwami?” 

“Uh, yes,” he answered. 

“Good, good,” Ladybug said, “Okay, everyone turn around, and close your eyes. You can detransform, feed your kwami, and then retransform. Problem solved.” 

“We still don’t have a way out,” Ryuko said as they all turned to a corner and followed Ladybug’s instructions. 

“I left Chloe with her miraculous,” Ladybug said, “Because I didn’t have time to get it back last Sunday. So I guess we can only hope she figures something out.” 

They stood there in awkward silence, until the tell-tale glitzy sound of a detransformation could be heard. 

“Jeez, Adrien, you’re working me to the bone out there-” the tinny voice Ladybug recognized as Plagg’s said, and then, “Oh. Ah. I see we have company.” 

Ladybug sucked in a breath. 

Adrien? 

No, surely there were tons of other Adriens in Paris. 

But… 

“Adrien?!” Carapace said, sounding positively shocked. 

“I told you not to look!” Ladybug scolded, trying her very best to ignore her own burning curiosity. 

“Sorry,” Carapace said, not sounding sorry at all. “Adrien, dude! I can’t believe you’re Chat Noir!” 

Chat made a confused noise. 

“Do we know each other?” he asked. 

“Yeah, dude, it’s me, Nino!” 

“NINO!” Ladybug yelled, “Rule number one! What is rule number one?!” 

“Oh!” Ryuko said, “Adrien!” 

Ladybug groaned, turning around with her eyes still stubbornly closed. 

“Plagg,” she said, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna skin you alive!” 

“It was an accident!” he said. 

“Ladybug…” Chat said, sounding nervous, “I’m so sorry.” 

“No,” she sighed, “It’s not your fault. 

“You can uh,” Chat paused, and then took a deep breath, as if preparing himself, “You can open your eyes, if you want.” 

Ladybug grimaced. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” 

Adrien was Chat Noir. 

Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir. 

She had known it. Logically, what other Adrien did Nino know? 

But it was one thing to know it and another to see with her own eyes, Plagg hovering around the head of her crush. 

Her crush. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, “I have a crush on Chat Noir.” 

“What was that?” Adrien asked, voice shrill. 

“You lent me a book on polyamory!” she said, ignoring him, “Oh my god! You’re Adrien Agreste!” 

“We’ve been over that!” he said, voice still unnaturally high-pitched. “You have a crush on me?”

Ladybug started laughing. 

“My chart was so inaccurate!” she said. 

“What chart?!” 

The box started to rumble. 

Ladybug shook herself. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” she said, attempting to return to serious leader mode. “Adr- Chat, I mean, transform.” 

He blinked at her for a second, shocked, and then complied. And in the nick of time. Just as the last of the magic sparkles were settling, the metal box popped out of existence. 

Queen Bee stood, a wicked grin on her face, and the akuma’s giant blaster resting on her shoulder. 

“You guys are missing the party,” she said, winking. 

“GIVE THAT BACK!” the akuma screeched from out of view. 

“Let’s get to it then,” Ladybug said, allowing one more quick look to Chat before she unclasped her yoyo and launched herself in the direction of the villain. 

***

Marinette tapped her fingers against the desk at a rapid pace, nervous. 

After the fight, she had had to run off before anyone could talk about anything. That had been yesterday. Now it was the first class of the day. Adrien hadn’t arrived yet, but Marinette was sure she’d find a way to make a complete fool of herself when he did show. Not that she didn’t usually, but now she held the oh-so-nerve wracking piece of information that he was Chat Noir. 

“Are you okay?” Alya asked, “You look like you’re about to explode.” 

“I’ll get back to you about that,” Marinette said. “I feel like I’m about to explode.” 

“Can I ask why?” 

Marinette shook her head. 

“Alright,” Alya said, a little suspicious. She cleared her throat and leaned closer to add, in a whisper, “I paid for the bouquet. I’ve got it at home. We can pick it up during lunch?” 

Marinette startled. 

Right. 

Somehow, she had forgotten about her plan to confess to Kagami and Adrien. So. Add that to the list of things that were stressing her out. 

She managed a shaky nod for Alya, and was about to say something when Adrien walked in. 

Hiding behind her hair, she avoided eye contact. 

“Adrien!” Nino said, “How… are you… after… yesterday?” He winked. 

Marinette tried not to giggle. Nino could not make it more obvious that something was up if he tried. 

“Good!” Adrien said, looking for all intents and purposes like an overenthusiastic puppy, “I am very good!” 

He sat down and shared a secret smile with Nino. 

Alya suspiciously looked between them, but didn’t say anything. 

“Okay, everyone!” Miss Bustier said, and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief as class started. She hadn’t made a fool out of herself. Yet. 

***

Marinette was left with a real predicament. One she contemplated instead of doing her math work. 

Fact one: She had a crush on Adrien and Kagami. 

Fact two: They had a crush… on Ladybug. 

Fact three: she knew their identities but they did not know hers. 

Fact four, irrelevant but also kind of weird: Didn’t Chat think that Ladybug was like… hundreds of years old? 

Marinette mulled this over. She saw three plans of action. 

Plan one: Take her chances as Marinette. Unguaranteed success. 

Plan two: Take her chances as Ladybug. Guaranteed success. 

Plan three, and the infinitely scariest plan of them all: Tell them her identity and ask them out. Guaranteed success, but at a major, major cost. 

The easiest plan was, of course, number two. But love wasn’t about being easy. It was about… 

Well. Marinette didn’t know what love was about, entirely. She’d never really been in love, not properly. But her crush was… getting there. For sure. 

Something about being in almost-love makes you want to take risks. 

Gaze flitting up to where Adrien sat in front of her, Marinette scrunched her eyebrows, thinking. 

This was a risk. Were they worth it? 

Yes. 

The answer came to her shockingly quick. 

But just because she was filled with hormones and a massive romantic didn’t mean she was an idiot. She was gonna plan this out. 

Flipping her notebook to a fresh page and altogether ignoring the algebra textbook beside her, she got to work. 

***

Step one of her plan was easily achieved. Technically. 

Emotionally, it was harder than lifting a bus. Which Marinette had done before. So, logically, she could do this(?). 

“Hi,” Marinette said, and then immediately wanted the floor to swallow her. 

“Hi, Marinette!” Adrien said, smiling up at her from the bench he was sitting on with Kagami. They were holding hands and Marinette was trying to not get distracted by how cute they were. 

“F-for you,” she stuttered, shoving the bouquet she had paid Alya back for in their general direction. 

“What is this?” Kagami asked, sniffing it. 

“It’s um.” Marinette felt like her face was melting. She must be blushing so embarrassingly hard. “It’s cause I, uh. Like. You. B-both of… you.” 

“Ma-” Adrien started to say, but before he could finish, or even really start, his sentence, Marinette was a block away and in a full sprint. 

So. Step one went… it went. Not well, but it went. 

***

Step two was easier by a long shot. She was in the mask, which meant instant confidence boost, and she didn’t have to mention her feelings at all.  

“I want to tell you guys my identity,” she mentioned offhandedly as they all sat on the roof, about to start patrol. The miraculous holders, other than Ladybug and Chat, were on a rotation for patrol, and today was Ryuko’s day. It was Saturday, which meant she hadn’t seen Adrien and Kagami since she had done a hit-and-run on them yesterday. 

Chat almost fell off the roof, and Ryuko scooted closer, stars in her eyes. They both looked at her expectantly. 

 “No, not now,” Ladybug said, “I’m just letting you know. That, uh. That you will know, eventually. Soon.” 

“How soon?” Ryuko asked, head tilted adorably. 

“That’s up to me,” Ladybug said, a little mysteriously, and then hopped to her feet. “Shall we?” 

They went off into the night, keeping Paris safe. Ladybug tried to suppress the smirk that was trying to make its way onto her face. She was totally crushing this. 

***

She was not totally crushing this. 

In her planning stage she had somehow managed to overlook figuring out who to tell first. 

“Okay,” Marinette said, partially thinking out loud and partially talking to Tikki, “Well, Adrien’s known me longer, so maybe I should tell him first? But Kagami is less likely to tell Adrien as soon as she finds out.” 

“You can’t just tell them both at the same time?” Tikki asked, flitting around her head. 

“No,” Marinette said, collapsing back into her bed, “Because the only time the two of them are together is during dates, and I don’t want to interrupt those, or during superhero business, and I really don’t want to do this all… out in the open.” 

“That’s true,” Tikki hummed thoughtfully. “But… what if you just invited them both over to your house?” 

“Tikki, what did I do to deserve you?” Marinette said. “I’m an idiot! I can just invite them over!” 

Tikki giggled. 

***

Step three began with a text. 

Hey! Do you guys want to come over tomorrow? 

The sending of the text was preluded by a generous amount of freaking out, but it was sent nonetheless. 

Yes, was Kagami’s short reply, followed by Adrien’s Yeah, of course Marinette! :) 

So of course Marinette spent four hours deep cleaning her room. Upon waking up, she spent two more hours picking out what to wear. 

They were arriving at noon. For lunch. So that left her an extra hour to freak out about what was for lunch. 

“I promise it’ll be ready!” Sabine assured her daughter, obviously amused, for the tenth time, “And yes, I promise to leave you three alone.” 

Before Marinette could reply, there was a knock on the door. 

“I’ll get it!” she yelled, even though she and her mother were the only two people in the house above the bakery. 

She flung open the door, revealing Adrien, holding Kagami’s hand, and Kagami, holding a small bunch of peonies.

“O-oh,” she said, “Are these for me?” 

Kagami nodded and smiled a little. Marinette’s knees felt weak. 

She took the flowers and turned to find a vase, gesturing them in. 

Adrien closed the door behind them, and they both took their shoes off before following her to the kitchen. 

“There’s soup and sandwiches on the table,” Sabine said, passing by them on her way out, “I’ll be in the bakery.” 

Marinette watched them sit down at the table as she filled the vase with water, and then stuck the flowers in it. 

“So, you like us,” Kagami said, cutting right to the chase, “Romantically.” 

Marinette squeaked and almost knocked the vase over. Steadying it, partly because it was expensive and partly to avoid eye contact, she whispered, “Yes.” 

She was going to pass out, probably. She kind of wished she would, if only to put off this conversation. 

No! she steeled herself, Be brave!  

Taking a deep breath, she turned around. 

“Yes,” she said again, louder. 

Adrien was smiling so wide it looked like his face would split in two, and Kagami’s cheeks were faintly pink. 

“Also,” she said, before they could reply, “Uh, I’m… well, how about I just…” 

She made eye contact with Tikki, who was hiding behind the cookie jar. Tikki nodded at her. 

“Tikki, Spots On!” 

The silence was deafening. 

“Um.” Ladybug felt like she was gonna sweat through her costume. “Surprise?” 

“Oh my god!” Adrien said, hurtling out of his chair. “Oh my god!” 

“Is it that bad?” she asked, and she meant it to come out as a joke but her voice wavered dangerously.

“No,” Kagami said, enormous grin on her face, “It’s not bad at all.” 

“Cool,” Ladybug breathed out, and then let her transformation go. Tikki winked and flew off. 

Adrien started walking towards her first, but Kagami was soon to follow, and the two had her crowded against the counter before she could blink. They both looked so incredibly happy. Marinette figured she probably looked about the same. 

“I’m Ryuko,” Kagami mentioned, “Since we’re getting it all out there.” 

Adrien’s smile grew impossibly wider. 

“Oh,” he said, “Oh.” 

“So,” Marinette breathed, “What happens now?” 

Kagami looked at Adrien, and then at Marinette. 

“Can we kiss you?” 

Marinette made a noise as all the air left her lungs. 

“Yes,” she said, “Yes yes yes.” 

Kissing Adrien was like kissing sunshine. Warm lips, a tentative hand hovering near her waist, his lips curled into a smile. 

Kissing Kagami was a rollercoaster. She started out fierce, crushing her lips against Marinette’s, but slowly softened, humming. 

Marinette felt like she could kiss them forever. 

“Wow,” she said as soon as her lips were free, and then threw her arms around them to pull them into a hug. 

***

E P I L O G U E 

It became a tradition, and a code, and an inside joke all in one. 

Sunflowers for every anniversary. One month, six months, a year. 

Get me flowers? Adrien texted, and his girlfriends knew it was gonna be a rough day. 

“Roses? You shouldn’t have,” Ladybug laughed on the random Tuesdays that Ryuko bought them for her. 

And Kagami wore aster flowers in her hair the day she proposed, many, many years later. 

And they were unimaginably happy. 

[fanficsandthings]

Through the Years, Ch. 4

A George Weasley Fanfiction 

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story.

Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 2.3k

Year 1, Year 2, Year 3 

Year 4: Quidditch

The start of the Quidditch season was one of your favorite times of the year. It was a good way to get your mind off school work for a few hours a night while you practiced with the rest of the Slytherin team. The captain, Marcus Flint, had a strict regimen when it came to training, and the new brooms that the Malfoys had bought helped a lot. 

A match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was the first match of this year’s season. For you, it was more of a contest between you and the twins over who could make the other team more irritated. It was really quite easy to make Oliver Wood mad over a game of quidditch. All you needed to do was make sure Gryffindor lost. You could let Draco and Harry do whatever they wanted, as it was best to go after the core of the Gryffindor quidditch team; their star beaters. 

Looking around the pitch, you could see Fred sending a bludger towards Flint. Not caring much for your team captain, you chose not to warn him as the ball hit him right on the shoulder. It pushed Flint back, sending him spiraling in circles towards the ground, but he managed to catch himself. 

You let out a laugh and shouted over to Fred, “Nice one, Weasley!” 

Fred gave a thumbs up and a small wink as he turned to aim his next bludger at another one of your Slytherin teammates. 

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in your left side as Marcus Flint smashed full force into you. “Stop playing for the other team and do your job! If I see you even smile at one of the Weasleys the rest of this match, you’re off the team.”

“Yeah, sure. You know there’s no one else in Slytherin who could be a better beater than me.” You rolled your eyes and took off on your broom, shouting over your shoulder at Flint, “Watch this!�� 

You headed straight for George, his attention elsewhere, so he had no idea that you were coming. You gained as much speed as you felt comfortable with and aimed your broom right for him. Pushing your feet up, you balanced carefully on the black handle of your broomstick. You released your hands from the handle and stood up straight, wind pushing past you. The wind felt wonderful as you leaned into it, still staring directly at George, who had yet to turn his head to notice you. As you got closer and closer, you knew your plan would work out perfectly.  

“Weasley!” you called out when you were barely a few feet away from him. You kicked your feet off your broom, sending it in a small arc just below his broom as your body slammed right into his. 

George let out a small groan at the impact, and you heard him mumble a few choice words at you. 

You wrapped one arm around him as you felt both George and yourself start to fall towards the ground. Your other arm reached into the air, and your hand fell perfectly back onto your broomstick handle. As you dangled from your broom, you looked down at George, who was dangling from your hand. 

“How’s it hanging, Georgie?” you shouted down at him over the sound of the wind rushing by.

“This is such a cheap trick!” he shouted back up at you. 

“My favorite kind of trick,” you retorted back. 

You made it to the other side of the quidditch pitch, still hanging from your broom before you started to get close enough to the ground to let go of him. You looked back over your shoulder to the far end of the pitch, George’s broom laying sadly on the ground. Lowering your speed a bit, you dragged George’s shoes just slightly on the grass. 

“You better start running, or it’s gonna hurt like hell when I let go!” you warned him. 

George glared at you with a look that’s reserved only for when he’s truly pissed off at you, but he started running nevertheless. He stumbled a little bit when you let go of his hand, but managed to catch himself. You could hear him cursing you as you flew off, but you chose to ignore whatever he might be threatening you with. 

“Have a fun walk back to your broom, George.” 

-----------------

You could hear your name being called from behind you, but you ignored the two people yelling at you. You chose instead to focus your attention on your feet, trying hard not to trip over the rocks on the hill you were currently walking up. Annoyingly, you could hear the voices getting louder as the twins approached. 

“Hey, will you slow down!” George called, slightly out of breath from basically running up the hill to catch up with you. You shook your head, picking up your pace a little more. 

“You can’t be pissed at us every time Slytherin loses a game,” Fred said to you. 

You stopped walking suddenly, causing the twins to jolt to a stop too. You whipped around, your quidditch robes flowing behind you, and pointed your finger between the two of them. 

“I am not mad because Slytherin lost,” you said, your voice laced with a hint of venom. “I’m mad because you two almost killed a 12 year old boy and, in the process, almost killed me, too!” 

“It’s not like we tried to kill you,” George said, “and we’ve already said we’re sorry.” 

“Plus it was just Malfoy,” Fred continued. “And what about that bludger one of you bewitched!”

“I don’t care that it was ‘just Malfoy.’ He may be an annoying little prat, but he’s still a child. And that bludger was not us! I’m just as confused about that as you are.” Your arms were crossed in front of you now, and you stared down at them with irritation etched on your face. Having this conversation on a hill was probably a good idea, because it made you taller than the Weasley twins, and you felt like that gave you a slight advantage. You were sure they didn’t quite believe that Slytherin didn’t bewitch that bludger, but they knew you were telling your truth. 

“You literally ran full force into me and knocked me off my broom,” George recalled. 

“I caught you!” you said to him, rolling your eyes. “There are way worse tricks I could’ve pulled on you in the moment.”

“It was pretty wicked to watch,” Fred said, nudging his brother in the ribs. 

“Thank you, Fred.” You gave him a smile and turned back to George. “Flint was up my ass about being friends with you two, so I needed to do something that would get him to shut up.” 

“You could’ve picked the other twin to piss off,” George said in a slight mumble, crossing his arms. 

You walked the few steps to stand in front of him, about even with his height now thanks to the hill. 

“Maybe I just think you’re cute when you’re mad,” you said, patting his cheek. You gave him a wink and turned on your heel to head back up the hill again. Both Fred and George stayed rooted in the same spot. 

“Freddie,” George said to his brother once you were out of ear shot. He watched your green quidditch robes flowing behind you, your figure getting smaller and smaller as you approached the castle. “I think I’m in love.” 

Fred let out a sharp laugh, startling his brother out of his trance. “I know, George. I know.” Fred started to walk up the hill after you, leaving his brother dumbfounded in his spot.

George could feel the red on the tips of his ears and cheeks. It had been there since you softly touched his face, and he hoped to Merlin that you hadn’t noticed. Truth be told, you had noticed, but you thought it just made him that much more endearing. 

----------------------

You were sitting in the Slytherin common room, reading a book you had just picked up from the library, when you felt something brush against your leg. You looked down to see Minnie standing in front of you. She appeared to have a piece of paper stuck in her collar. 

Molly Weasley had knitted a small collar for Minnie the first Christmas you had her, just a couple weeks after you and the twins had found her. Fred and George had told their mother about the cat they were now sharing with you, and they asked Molly if she could make them a collar. They said it was their way of providing some sort of care for her, as you were the one that actually looked after her. It was a simple collar, made out of yarn, that you simply tied around her neck. It was more of a friendship bracelet than a collar, you always thought, but you loved it nonetheless. Especially because Molly had made it in your house colors. 

You bent down to retrieve the piece of paper from her, giving her a light scratch between the ears in the process. The paper was folded relatively neatly, your name written on it in messy writing. It was no doubt from one of the twins, or both. You unfolded it.

Did I ever truly apologize for this afternoon? I can’t remember, it was all such a mess. Well, I am truly sorry for almost killing you. Meet me just outside the Slytherin common room at sunset. Wear something warm. --George xx

Folding the paper back up, you let out a short breath and rolled your eyes. George could have any number of possible activities planned for tonight, you just hoped that none of them put you in danger. You put the note in your book to act as a bookmark. Grabbing Minnie, you headed to your dorm to get ready for whatever it was that George had planned for this evening. 

Just a few short hours later you were standing just outside your common room, wearing the comfiest sweater you could find and a scarf was wrapped around your neck. A small bag hung from your shoulder. You could hear footfalls approaching from around the corner, and you hoped it was George, rather than a teacher who would scold you for being out this close to dark. The figure came around the corner, and you let out a sigh when you saw the red hair sticking out from under his knitted hat. 

“George,” you said, catching his attention, “what’re we doing? You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“Only if we get caught,” he said, taking your hand. He didn’t even bother to stop walking, he just pulled you along after him. “No time to stop and chat. Snape was nearby last time I looked at the map.” 

You followed close behind him, your right hand in his left. It had been almost a year since the accident with the hair dye, but you sometimes still worried about his burn. Sometimes you swore you could see a faint scar if his wrist hit the light just right. Tonight, though, you had no worries about that, too worried about the thought of being caught by a teacher. Another irrational fear, as George had told you that him and his brother had never been caught out of bed since they found this map. 

You followed George, having no earthly clue where you were going. He seemed quite confident in his ability to find his way around the castle, though. A slight breeze hit you as he opened one final door, and the faint light of the setting sun illuminated both of your faces. 

“Where on earth are we going, George?” you asked, praying for a real answer this time. 

“Somewhere fun,” was all he said as he grabbed your hand again and pulled you out the door. 

You had made it all the way to the quidditch pitch before George finally stopped walking and let go of your hand. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon now, and it would be fully set in a matter of seconds. You could see both of your brooms leaning up against the wall.

“A late night joy ride?” you asked, motioning towards the brooms. 

“Something like that, yeah,” you answered you. He then pulled a small rectangular object out of his jacket pocket. “First, I wanted to give this back to you. There are a few pictures left on it. I didn’t wanna fill it up before you can go home to get them developed.”

You took the camera from him. You looked it over quickly and saw that there were still 10 pictures left on it. “Thanks George, but I can always ask my mum to owl me another one.”

You went to hand it back to him, but he denied it. “I’d like to see some pictures from your point of view too.”

You shrugged and placed the camera in your bag, taking out the gloves you had stored in there. You put them on and looked at George. “So, a late night joy ride?” 

He looked between you and your brooms. “Race you to the top!” he called as he took off in a sprint. 

“George,” you yelled after him as you started running too, “you know I’m faster on a broom than you are.” 

“That’s why I got a head start,” he informed you, hopping on his broom. You watched him take off, heading back towards the castle. 

Race you to the top, you thought to yourself. The top of the tallest tower in Hogwarts. You grabbed your broom, the black handle reflecting the light of the moon, which now shone brightly above you. You kicked off the ground as hard as you could, hoping the speed of your broom would make up for George’s head start. 

George Weasley would be the death of you someday, but, to be totally honest, you didn’t really mind. You waited with pleasant expectations for that day to come.

[chuckbass-love]

The Owner | Ari Levinson

Summary: In which the reader has a crush on The Red Sea Diving Resort manager Guy/Ari

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Female!Reader

I address him as Guy in this since that’s what the hotel guests know him as.

Warning: SMUT. 18+

I was inspired to write some Ari smut by @shellbilee​ after reading After All This Time and Three Days. So thank you for the inspo and love your writing.

GIF NOT MINE. credit goes to @sheisraging as it states underneath the gif that this account made it! Full credit to them.

You feel the throbbing headache still very much present in your head as you awaken, you’d hoped it would have disappeared after some sleep but clearly not. You slowly open your eyes and look around, squinting at the bright view of the sun shining into your hotel room. Another day of adventure awaits at The Red Sea Diving Resort. You pull the covers off of your naked body and force yourself out of bed, onto your feet. Shower time.

Once showered, you start to change. Deciding on just a bikini for today, sunbathing is all you’ll be doing. You head out, making your way to reception to grab some breakfast before you properly begin your day and as you reach reception, there he is. The owner. Guy.

You take your seat and sip at your coffee, trying not to stare at the man before you. It’s a struggle to say the least. He’s tall, muscly and looks like he’s been sculpted by the gods. His shaggy brown hair is slicked back and wet, he must have been diving with some of the guests recently. 

You start getting lost in your thoughts, thinking of all the things you’d want to do to him and the things you’d want him to do to you but it’ll never happen. A girl can dream right? You take another sip of your coffee, trying to pull your lustful eyes away from his physique. 

Just as you go to look away, his eyes meet yours. They are blue with a hint of green, perfect just like him. He flashes you a shy smile before looking away to talk to his colleagues. 

You’ve been staying here for three days so far, since being here you’ve noticed the ladies fawning upon him whenever they see him. You can’t say that you blame them but you prefer to admire him from afar. Rarely talking to him. You’re too nervous around guys. You don’t do too well with the whole flirting fiasco. Not your scene whatsoever. You finish eating and get up from your spot, making your way out to the beach for some much needed tanning time.

You set up a pretty decent spot on the sand, laying your towel down and getting out your earphones for some musical entertainment. This is heaven.

You feel a sudden splash of what feels like ice cold water drip onto your torso, your eyes flicker open to see him. Stood over you, in his wet suit. You take your earphones out and prop yourself up onto your elbows. “Hi” he greets “Y/N is it?” a huge grin plastered across his face. “Hi and yes it is” you give a small smile, not wanting to look keen. “The next diving tour is in ten minutes if you wanna join” you shrug, sitting up properly “It’s a pretty irresistible offer but i’m afraid i’m enjoying this sun too much” a sad look washes over him and then you see his eyes widen, what is he looking at?.

“You’ve um, your bikini top seems-” you look down, immediately noticing that your nipple was poking out of your bikini top. So embarrassing. “Omg, i’m so sorry” you chuckle in hopes that he’d see the funny side. “It’s no worries, not a bad view actually” he smirks as he stands up and heads over to the group of divers. Did he really just say that? Your stomach starts to flutter with butterflies and the need to have him. Guess you’ll see what happens.

You start packing up your bag and head back to your room for some chill time before dinner. Once you reach the door you notice Guy in the distance, he’s just coming back from the dive. His wetsuit zip is halfway down his torso, showing off his muscly hairy chest. Making you just want to dive onto him and kiss him. But you don’t have the guts. Instead you just stare in admiration and head into the room. You slip the bikini off of your body and head to the shower so you can freshen up. Once out you decide on a simple white sundress for dinner and some matching flats. It’s only dinner, no need to make a lot of effort.

You stroll into the reception area, by the tables, noticing Guy isn’t here. Everyone is but him. You wonder why. You continue with your evening, eating and laughing with the other guests. You’ve made friends with pretty much all of them, which is nice. When travelling alone it’s nice to make friends along the way. Just as you’re about to give up hope that you’ll see him tonight, he walks through the front doors, panting. 

“I’ll tell you what, i love the long route they have here, it’s great for a late night run” he starts gulping down some water as the other staff members laugh at his sweaty state. He turns round to check the guests out and his eyes fix on you. He shoots you a quick smile and a wink, making your cheeks heat up. 

You go back to the book that you bought down to read in between courses. You hear a chair slide across the ground, you look up to find him sat in front of you. “So how come a beautiful woman like yourself is on holiday alone?” you bite your bottom lip “Well it was booked for me and my ex boyfriend but i found him in bed with my best friend. So i decided i needed some me time” you explain, he looks at you with a sad look in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that, you didn’t deserve that” you nod in agreement and wave the whole subject off. If you’re finally able to have a full conversation with this man you don’t want it to be centred around your scumbag ex.

“What you reading?” he asks and you hold up the book before placing the bookmark in it and laying it on the table. “Catcher In The Rye, nice choice” you both just sit there for a few minutes, talking away and noticing how the other guests are starting to leave. 

“I best get back to my room anyways” you stand up, picking the book up and walking past him but you feel a hand grab a hold of your wrist “You don’t have to go you know” he pleads, you look back to see him staring at you with those eyes, almost like he’s looking into your soul. “Well i suppose another drink won’t hurt eh?” he shoots up, pulling you along to the bar. You both sit on it as you sip your drinks. He pulls out a cigarette, lighting it up as it sits in his mouth, god that mouth of his. Unholy thoughts come to your mind. 

You continue to talk about everything. From past relationships to books and even sex. Yes sex. You both share awkward sex stories. “I might have only had one serious relationship but i’ve had my fair share of awkward tales from the bedroom” you giggle after telling him the story of that one time during a one night stand that you’d had sex with this guy and afterwards he asked you to urinate on him and in his mouth. “Now i don’t discriminate but i think that’s more something you reveal about yourself with someone you plan to date, not a one night stand” he throws his head back in laughter, trying to stop himself from making too much noise, being that everyone has gone to bed. 

“I’m sorry but that is hilarious. Did you do it?” you shake your head aggressively. “I refused. Made out like i didn’t need to go to the bathroom, i was desperate to go but had to hold it in until i got home” he laughs even more, placing a hand on your leg. “How about you then?” you raise your eyebrows “got any mortifying experiences you’d care to share?” he starts to think, looking around the room.

“Ah there was that one time a girl tried to fuck me in the ass. Which you know, don’t get me wrong people like what they like but i’m not into that so i refused completely. She kicked me out after though” wow “Oh god” you say in shock “Yeah i was butt naked in the street, she didn’t give me the chance to get changed so i had to dress myself on her door step” now that would be a sight for sore eyes. “Poor neighbours” you chuckle, he nudges you slightly making you apologise sarcastically. “I’ll have you know my body is breath taking and as for my dick, that’s even more of a sight” you don’t doubt that for a second. “I bet” you say in a ‘sure’ tone. Earning yourself a glare from him.

“Gee thanks, you’re not so bad yourself by the way” you look into his eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him. “About that, i’m so embarrassed about that incident earlier” you cover your face with your hand, hiding the embarrassment. He pulls it away “Don’t apologise, to be honest. If it were only me on the beach then i wouldn’t have mentioned it. But i didn’t like the thought of other men ogling you” what does he mean by that? You furrow your brows, in confusion at his remark.

“All i’ve been able to think about since you arrived is kissing you and since i saw you on the beach earlier, in that very small bikini, your perfect nipples poking out. I’ve wanted nothing more than to have my way with you” shit. Is this about to happen? “I can’t say i haven’t felt it too” he’s in shock “Really?” you thought you’d made it painfully obvious. “You haven’t noticed me looking at you?” he tries to shrug but you can see he’s thinking about it.

“I mean looking back, i can see it now yeah” is he going to kiss you or are you gonna have to make the first move. And with that thought his lips come crashing onto yours, his body moving closer, closing the space between the two of you. He runs his fingers through his hair and then cups your face with both hands, deepening the kiss. He pulls away from you, your breaths are heavy. He jumps off of the bar, standing in front of you with hunger and lust in his eyes and a playful grin forming onto his perfect lips.

“Are you okay with this?” you nod your head and he picks you up off of the bar, your legs wrapping around him and he walks you both back to your room. Once inside, he wastes no time. Undressing himself and then you. Saving the best part until last, your panties. He slowly slides them down your legs, kissing as he goes along. They drop to the floor and you step out of them, leaving you naked at his disposal. “Such a sexy body Y/N” he mumbles, his speech distorted by his face being buried in your skin. Kissing every inch of you before laying you on the bed. 

He takes his boxers off to reveal his huge erection. SHIT. You gulp at the sight and thought of that going inside of you “Don’t worry baby, i’ll stretch you out nicely” he hovers over you, his arms either side of your head, leaning down to kiss you. He lifts your legs up and his body shuffles down the bed and towards your soaked pussy. You know what’s about to happen and you can tell he’s taking his time, teasing you. “Fuck” you moan out as he licks from your wet state to your clit, his beard scratching slightly. “Ugh baby, just like that” you tug at his long brown locks, a bit too roughly but you can’t help it. This feels incredible. You try to not scream as he inserts two fingers inside of you.

No man has ever had these tongue skills before and it’s taking you by surprise. Your hands, balling the sheets beneath you into a fist as the pleasure continues. “You like that baby? like it when i suck on your clit like this” he groans, doing it once again. “Please” is all you are able to get out “Please what” you roll your eyes into the back of your head and your back starts to arch, you can feel your forthcoming orgasm getting closer and closer. “Please, i’m gonna cum, don’t stop” the noises he’s making, bringing you closer. Slurping and sucking like a man starved, like he’s not eaten for days. “Cum on my tongue baby, come on Y/N” he encourages and that’s all you need to send you over the edge. Into a euphoric state. Seeing stars. WOW.

Your chest is heaving, you try to slow your breathing but it’s no use. He crawls back up your body, giggling at your reaction. “I would ask how that was but i think i have my answer right here” you slap his chest playfully. He leans down to kiss you, biting your lip to ask for entrance to which you gladly accept. He slides it in, beginning a battle for dominance with yours and of course he wins. You can taste yourself on him, making your clit twitch at the arousal he gives you.

He starts pumping himself a couple of times before resting his tip at your entrance, he peppers kisses from your lips to your neck before looking back to your eyes. “Stop teasing alrea- OMG” you immediately scream out as he slams into you. Not caring who hears at this point. “Such a tight cunt” he grunts “Oh fuck baby, don’t stop” he sits up, lifting your legs and resting them onto his shoulders, still ramming into you as he holds your ankles. “You’re taking this cock so well baby” your eyes roll back once again and all that comes out of your mouth are incomprehensible murmurs. He’s incredible, doing you like he’s known your body for years. 

You can’t hold it much longer, your second orgasm nearing. “That’s it, clench that pretty pussy around this cock Y/N. Cum all over me” his words are your weakness. Seeing his face as he fucks you and hearing his words fall off his beautiful lips. You can feel it inside of you, getting closer. “Fuck that’s it” he whispers, continuing to thrust in and out, showing no signs of slowing down. “Cum for me baby” seconds later, you tighten around him, your clit throbbing as he rubs at it quickly. “Good girl” he smiles down at you. “Such a pretty sight seeing you cum on my cock” you bite your lip as he lowers your legs, pulling out of your. He flips you both around so he’s lying on the bed.

You flick your hair to the side as you kneel in between his legs. You arch your back, making sure your ass is in the air, for his purpose only. “Shit” his eyes roll back as you lick the tip before taking all of him. He bottoms out in your mouth, reaching the back of your throat causing you to gag. “Is my cock too much for you sweetheart?” he grabs a fistful of your hair in his hands. Holding it out of your face. You look him in the eyes as you bob your head up and down on his big length, you can tell you’re doing a good job because he’s struggling to get his words out. “Keep going baby” he starts bucking his hips up into your mouth, fucking it. “Taking all of this cock in that tiny mouth of yours. Such a good girl” you continue to let him thrust into your mouth, making you gag once again. “I’m gonna cum baby” and with that, his cock twitches in your mouth, followed by his warm liquid filling you. You take your mouth off of him, swallowing all of his juices and earning a groan from him. “Swallowing all of me like a good little girl” you flash him a seductive smile and he pulls you down next to him,

You rest your head on his chest “That was certainly worth the wait” he pants “It was” you have no complaints. All of those hours spent thinking about how it would feel to have him between your legs and in your bed. Fucking you good. He definitely lived up to your expectations. “We are definitely making this a regular thing” you’re shocked. You expected him to just fuck and be over you. “That pussy is way too good to only have once” your cheeks heat up slightly but you can’t say you’re not ecstatic.

[kittiesluvyou]

Davie McMiller

Summary: Dave, William, and Henry are three witches who own a restaurant. While William is entertaining and Henry is in his office, Dave decides to try out a new spell that gives him a cartoon duplicate of himself.

Word Count: Unknown

Tw: No Warnings

Tags: @durpachu

Freddy Fazbear’s has never been so crowded before especially on a Monday afternoon way before Dave, Henry, and William found out that they were witches. A crowed of at least 100 kids and families have gathered around the main stage and gawking at the animatronics. At first, they had to close down the restaurant until they got used to their new found powers. Now, they’ve been buying a ton of spellbooks, crystals, and anything else that was required for their witchcraft needs. Dave was lying down on his stomach on the breakroom floor and his nose was stuck in a recently bought spellbook about transmutation. I wonder if there are any special spells that could be useful for my prank Dave thought as he scanned through the pages. He was about to turn the page in his book until he heard a knock at the door “Dave,” William’s voice could be heard from behind the door. Dave quickly put a bookmark in the book and hid it under his desk that he never used “come in!” He called and as if on cue, William came in. “I know that you’re not the biggest reader in here, but I still have to ask. Have you seen the transmutation book anywhere?” He scanned the room until Dave responded “try looking in Henry’s office. If it’s not there, it might be in the Safe Room where the other books are.” William started to open the door but stopped mid crack “I really doubt you, you know that right? However, I know that you’re getting addicted with that book. So, I’m going to let you keep it for now until Henry needs it. He’s been wanting to transform brooms into mops for his cleaning shift.” He closed the door and Dave pulled out the book again. After a few hours of searching, he found a spell that seems to be right up his alley Cartoon Transmutation: How to Create Your Own Cartoon Duplicate. You will need paper, a pen and or wand, lighter or a match, and black candles. Step one, set you candles in a clockwise formation. Step two, grab your pen and paper and take a seat in the center of the circle. Step three, draw an exact copy of yourself. After that, light each candle counterclockwise. Finally, grab your wand (or use your writing hand) and say the following ‘in forma mea, viverra transmutate.’  Dave decided that this was the spell that he would use to prank Will and Henry. After all, they’ve been working so hard on maintaining Freddy’s and practicing their powers they could use a break. One by one, he set each candle down clockwise giggling to himself as he moved on to the next step. He grabbed his pen and paper and set them in the center of the circle. After that, he used his left hand and waved it in a counterclockwise formation; the fire obeyed him and lit each of his candles in the same formation. He decided to skip step three because he was a terrible artist and he didn’t want his creation to look like a mutation. Instead, he thought about his looks, his eye color, anything that he could think of to make the perfect duplicate. He leaned over the paper and put his left hand over it “in forma mea, viverra transmutate,” he finally said. He waited with anticipation; however, he felt his head feel light, his hands and fingers were trembling, and he felt weak. His stomach was flip-flopping and he felt like he was going to vomit. “Note to self, check the spell levels first before actually going through with it,” he mumbled as he passed out. After what felt like a whole day had gone by, Dave slowly opened his eyes “dammit...m-my head. Did it work?” His voice was strangely high pitch like he was a chipmunk from Alvin and the Chipmunks. The candles looked like that they were ten feet tall and the door, well, it looked like it was eleven feet. “Did I misread the instructions? Did I misread ‘cartoon transmutation to shrinking transmutation’?” At least the book was already opened to the spell and he climbed on top of the page. “Yeah, I did do everything except for step three due to my inability to draw, so why am I small?” Dave’s voice was starting to give him a headache, who knew that high pitched voices could be annoying after awhile. He waved thrust his hand forward and the door opened he needs to find William and Henry asap. He didn’t believe in knocking so he magically opened the door “Hey uh-BOSS I had a lil OOPSY!” He yelled and waltzed into the office. Both Henry and William turned around “Dave,” William rolled his eyes “if you’re using that invisibility spell to jump scare us, you just failed.” Dave pouted “am I really that small or are they just really stupid?” He mumbled “sui levitate,” and flew towards William’s face. “I turned myself into a cartoon, William! I’m Davie McGuire!” He cracked up. However, William and Henry didn’t look so impressed “can you change back?” Henry asked studying Dave’s form. “I haven’t tried doing that yet but William I can show you the spell and then you could use it for your act. You may suffer a headache from your annoying high pitched voice, but you’ll get used after a while.” Henry realized now what happened to the book “you used it for a transmutation spell and now you have no clue how to change back,” Henry smacked his forehead. “Your a hot mess, you know that right?” Dave faked a blush “awwww, you’re took kind Henry.” “Alright, if we say the antidote spell right now would you kindly not do higher-leveled spells without our supervision.” William said and grabbed a giant book filled with antidotes. “I can’t make any promises, Willy, but a cure does sound great,” Dave rubbed his head in pain. William and Henry set a circle of white candles down in a counterclockwise formation “sit down,” Henry said and Dave quickly casted “ille me opprimet,” and sat down in the center of the circle. Next, William waved his left hand clockwise and each candle was lit in the same direction. Finally, William and Henry both closed their eyes and said “hominis naturam aliam convertuntur.” Dave’s form started getting taller and within minutes, he was back to his regular self. “I could thank you,” Dave started and grabbed them by their ties “but it would be more fun to kiss you.” He puckered his lips but both Henry and William both teleported away from his grasp. “Not if you catch us first!” William called out immediately regretting his words. Now Dave was teleporting in and out of various places to find them “come on, guys just one little thank you kiss? My breath smells really good,” he cackled. “Not in your wildest dreams!” Henry responded and teleported to the breakroom to retrieve his book and teleported again to the Safe Room to not only put the book away, but to also get away from Dave’s grasp. However, Dave must’ve found out abut his plan because he sneaked attacked Henry and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Bossman.” Dave then teleported to find William.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Jewel of the Sea: Chapter 10: . . . Now That I See You

Chapter 9

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01,​​​ @spoopy-turtle,​​​ @lizluvscupcakes,​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, sirprplsnail

JotS Taglist (Send an ask to be added or removed!): @5-falsehoods-phonated, @vindicatedvirgil, @starlocked01, @viva-la-pluto-dam-you, @pan-immortal-jefferson-starships , @acetatertot, @silvarraven, @logan-positivity, @virgil-positivity, @luella-the-homosexual, @positivitykitty, @akatsuki-no-katira, @ironwoman359, @winterwynd, @lookingforaplacetosleep

Word Count: 1,553

Logan loved their debates, going into the late hours of the night. They never made it to midnight as Virgil always fell asleep before then. Logan assumed it was due to either his wounds needing a lot of sleep to heal properly or his circadian rhythm. Whichever one it was was fine with him as it meant he could spend time along in his room, winding down from the flurry of excitement that always came with the debates. 

He enjoyed the times where Virgil would seek him out for the pre bed debates. Once, he had forgotten that he was wearing glasses. It seemed Virgil’s amnesia had caused him to forget about contacts so he had to explain that he had to forgo wearing his contacts the night before he changed them. Many times, their debates were carried from the library to Virgil’s room as it was closer to the stairs. These were times Virgil was most likely to fall asleep mid debate. Logan just tucked him under his covers and turned the lights off as he left.

Once, when Logan was looking for a quiet place that wasn’t his office, hoping the change in scenery would produce idea flow, he came across Virgil in the alcove he’d found when he was seven. They bantered for a few minutes while Logan set up his things. As he took his mind off his work for a few minutes, he was better able to focus when he turned his attention back to it. 

Soon, he’d dissolved into his usual muttering and hair pulling while dealing with the papers in front of him. He was trying to understand the reports he was getting from his men but many of them contradicted others and Logan had no idea which were the right ones. He hadn’t realized he’d growled until Virgil had closed his book and was looking over his shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

Logan looked up at him from his seat on the floor. “I’m just trying to deal with the reports coming in from the coast guard.”

“About the pirates?” Virgil marked his place in his book before giving his full attention to Logan.

“Yes, about those. I’m just having a hard time getting people to believe the pirates were even there to begin with.” They were no longer at the beach near the cliff. This probably accounted for the conflicting reports. People were being lazy and not investigating, simply making something up instead.

Virgil’s hand in his hair brought him back to the here and now. “You’ll figure it out eventually. How about you tell me what the problem is. Sometimes, just going through it out loud helps.”

So, Logan talked about it to Virgil. He talked about the lazy people he had to deal with, about his personal research, about anything that came to mind as Virgil looked at him like he’d hung the moon and stars.

Sometimes, when it was clear that Logan needed the distraction, Virgil would go on about the books he was reading. He’d tell Logan about the interesting parts of the history books, the amazing amount of creatures he’d read about recently. He was always rewarded with a smile and full attention, as he’d succeeded in taking Logan’s mind off work long enough for him to relax. Logan loved when Virgil would seek him out, somehow knowing when he needed the distraction the most.

There were times when they both needed to get outside for some sun. Those were days filled with bird watching, Virgil making up a narrative to explain why the birds were acting a certain way and giving each of them a unique voice. Logan would have to remember to ask him to read a book to him as his voice was incredibly relaxing. Many times, Roman would come over and lay his head on Logan’s leg, occasionally falling asleep to Virgil’s stories but most times he would beg Logan to come and play with him. Unable to resist, Logan would usually acquiesce. He hadn’t even noticed that a month and a half had passed. 

One day, Logan decided he and Virgil could both use a break from the castle. Realizing that he viewed Virgil as his best friend, he decided to take him to his favorite spot in the world: the cliff he’d been going to when he’d first found Virgil. When they got there, Virgil went to admire the view while Logan unloaded the picnic and set it up. He set up his easel and painting supplies close by, wanting to do that after eating. 

Once everything was set up, he went and sat by Virgil. He took a deep breath of the sea air he could never get enough of before speaking. “It’s a nice view.”

Virgil smiled, nodding. “That it is.”

They sat there for a few more minutes. Looking over at Virgil, he had a hunger in his eyes that Logan had seldom seen in many faces. It wasn’t a hunger for food, but more of a hunger for home, for comfort. There was a sadness mixed with the hunger, as if he deeply missed something. Glancing out at the water, he wondered what Virgil saw when he looked at it. He thought about this for a few seconds before slapping his knees and standing, holding his hands out to help Virgil to his feet. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Virgil responded as they walked over and sat on the blanket. Logan brought up the subject of their last debate and that was all the prompting Virgil needed to pick up where he’d left off. Logan admired the fire in his voice and determination in his eyes as he spoke of a subject he’d obviously been researching recently.

Once the meal was over, Virgil helped Logan pack up the trash and found the book Logan had put in the basket for Virgil to read throughout the afternoon. He went back to the edge to sit and read. Logan was planning on painting the sea again as it was an interesting color today but found his eye drawn to the way Virgil was sitting. No regard for the large drop, fully absorbed in his book, he had one leg dangling over the edge and the other pulled up. His fingers gripped the pages, one arm looping around the drawn up leg, while his eyes danced across the page. He had a faraway look in his eye that told Logan he was lost in the story being spun inside his brain. Grabbing his purple paints, Logan started to mix up something that would match the exact colors of Virgil’s plaid shirt. 

While painting, the thought crossed Logan’s mind that he loved Virgil. He didn’t know where the emotion came from but it was there, sitting in his heart like there was a seat made just for it there. He paused, his brush poised above the paint tray as he tried to pinpoint the exact moment the feeling started. Was it when they’d first met and Logan had felt fiercely protective of him? Was it the first time he’d seen that gorgeous dark purple hair dry and known that it was purple and not black? Was it the first time Virgil had laughed, the hours of debating, the hours of venting and problem solving? Was it the first time he’d heard him narrate a story and known he could get lost in that voice? He found that there was no one instance where he’d fallen in love but rather a slow descent he hadn’t noticed until he was at the bottom looking up. Even so, he didn’t regret the descent in the slightest.

He finished his painting, Virgil hunched over a book framed by the sea and sky behind him, and moved to sit next to its subject. Turning, he smiled and pretended his thoughts weren’t roiling like a sea in a storm. He focused on the main reason he’d brought Virgil here in the first place, deciding to sort through the emotions later. 

“You seem to be healing well.” He said as an opening.

Virgil nodded, eyes focused on the book in his lap, hands fiddling with the bookmark Logan had bought for him. “Yeah, I think I’ll be able to leave soon.”

Logan smiled, drawing his gaze back up to him. “Hopefully not too soon. My father and younger brother are coming home. My brother has said he will be bringing a bride back to present to the family. I would like to have you there for that. Would you like to be my plus one?”

Virgil frowned, a line appearing between his eyebrows. “What’s a ‘plus one’?”

“A guest of a guest. I am an invited guest who is allowed to invite another guest.”

“I don’t know what I’d have to wear.”

“I have some of my father’s old suits that might fit you. They’re good quality and you seem to be around the right size for them. If nothing else, we can always commission the royal seamstresses for something. Is that alright with you?” Virgil nodded as they both smiled and enjoyed the sunset before traveling home. Just as on the way there, Virgil’s head was placed between Logan’s shoulder blades. He decided he liked that. 

Chapter 11

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 5)

A/N: I had a little mental block when trying write this one! I think it worked out in the end but better is coming ! I promise. Enjoyy :)

masterlist

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Word count: 3.4k

tw: none, fluff :)

Spencer didn’t dream about you. When he woke up, he was sweaty and disoriented and had no recollection of the dreams he had. He fell asleep next to the box fully clothed, his arm thrown across where you should have been. In those first few moments of morning when you aren’t quite sure where you are or who you are, he reached around for you and found nothing but emptiness. 

‘Emptiness? No that can’t be right. She was right here.’ 

Just as he thought it, the truth occurred to him. 

‘She was never here. Just the box. Wait, the box. Where is the box?’

He shot up quickly, getting a little dizzy, and frantically looked around the room. He saw that he had knocked the box over while he slept and the contents were scattered all over the floor. He groaned and went to pick everything up. His hands found all the items and he put them away carefully, not peeking. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise. When everything was put back where it belonged, he sighed and sat on his bed, staring longingly out the window. 

It was barely 6 am and the sun had risen, but he couldn’t see it behind the thick gray clouds that lined the sky. It was snowing. Not a rare thing to see in Virginia, but it was very appropriate for this day. You loved snow, wintertime, the holidays, all of it. You even tried to get him to go skiing with you a few times, which he refused to do. He is extremely clumsy in nature and would definitely hurt himself or someone else if he tried. It’s a miracle they even let him carry a gun. Besides, he’s more suited to drinking hot cocoa in the lodge by a fire. The cold is much less forgiving to him. Growing up in Vegas made him partial to the heat. Even though he had lived on the East coast for many years, he’d still complain anytime the temperature dropped below 40 and bundle up in a wool coat and scarf.  Your New England roots on the other hand, taught you to handle the cold much better. When he’d complain about being freezing, you would tell him that he had no idea what real cold was like, and when you would complain about the heat he’d return the sentiment. 

He left the box on the bed and took a shower. He needed to wash everything from the last day off.  It was therapeutic to just stand in the hot water and let it burn slightly, reminding him he could still feel. This had been so emotionally draining; he could barely remember the last time he cried so much. Today he just felt numb, barely bothering to put on more than sweatpants, but somehow mustering up enough energy to make a pot of coffee. He had a feeling he’d need the whole thing to get through the next twelve letters. Each one felt heavier in his hands than the previous did, and each cut a little deeper too. With a cup of coffee in hand, he fished around for envelope #4. 

“Spence, this next one is special. You’ll know why the second you pick it up. #4: The Book of Margery Kempe.”

He smiled and ran his hands over the book, his mother’s favorite. The spine was bent like it’d been cracked open many times, and the pages were worn and well read. He could tell it was your personal copy because of the dog-eared pages. You always did that, making him grimace every time you creased the corner of a page. 

“You could just use a bookmark, Y/N,” He’d say, earning an eye roll from you. 

“A book should look like it’s been read, that’s why I buy paperbacks and write in them! I want anyone who picks up something I’ve read to feel how much I loved it, that way they love it too.” 

That comment always made him smile, “Fine, just don’t do it to any of my books.”

“Don’t worry Dr. Reid, I only do it to my personal collection.”

The memory felt warm and inviting, but ended quickly. Instead, he grabbed the book, the letter, and his coffee and sat at the chess table he had pushed against a window. He wanted to see the snow while he read, just to feel closer to you.  

“I bought for our flight to Vegas, the trip where I met your mother for the first time. You mentioned Kempe was her favorite, and I so badly wanted to impress her. I know she’s...well she’s her. But you’re her pride and joy, Spence, I didn’t want to disappoint her. Or disappoint you for that matter. Remember when you asked? 

“I’d like you to come with me next week,” You said over an IHOP pancake breakfast. 

“To Vegas?”

You nodded, “Yeah I’d love if you came with me. You could see my hometown.”

“I’ve been to Vegas, Love.”

I know it seemed like I didn’t want to go, that isn’t the case. I did want to go. I wanted to go so bad, but I was hesitant. I was so terrified that I would mess up. I didn’t want to ruin us, we’d been doing so well. I felt like this would be a defining moment in our relationship (spoiler alert: it was) and I didn’t want to risk it going poorly. 

“Yeah on cases! And that is not the impression of Vegas I want you to have. C’mon please? It would mean the world to my mom.”

I think I choked on my pancake, “Your mom? She knows about me?”

“Of course she does, I write her letters all the time.”

“Your mom knows about us, and you want me to meet her?” 

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah Y/N, how many times do I have to say it? I want you to meet my mom.”

That’s probably when I tackled you in a hug in the middle of an IHOP. That solidified the fact that you trusted me. I knew you trusted me at work, but the fact that you were willing to show me that side of you, the side you don’t really show anyone? I can’t thank you enough for it. 

We’d been together just over six months, which to most people that seems like a long time to wait to meet the parents, especially when we were already so serious, but your situation is different. I wanted you to do it in your own time. 

My family on the other hand, you met them pretty early into us dating. My niece turned one a few months into us being together and I dragged you to Connecticut for the party. Everyone loved you, of course they did. There isn’t one thing to not love about you. Nate and my dad were definitely not thrilled that I was bringing you. Nate tries to be all Big Brother-y but it’s all an act, he’s a softie. And dad would rather I marry a rich man and be a stay at home mom. I can hear him now saying, “Y/N if your mother were here to see you thirty and unwed she would be so disappointed !” Dads. They’re the worst, but I don’t have to tell you that.”

For some reason that made him chuckle, having rough/nonexistent relationships with your fathers was just another item on the long list of things you had in common. On paper, you were a perfect match. But that was the only place. 

“But somehow, you didn’t have to wear them down, they just loved you instantly. Even Mia loved you, and she was one! You handed her toys and helped her put on her shoes. You talked to my dad about whatever he had on the History channel. It was perfect. You fit right in with us; it was like you completed us, you were the missing piece that we didn’t even know we needed. I know Mia will miss you; you were always so good with her. I think we’ll all miss you. And my dad is going to hate that I will not be married off any time soon, but he can deal with that. 

But back to your mom. To say I was nervous to meet her is probably the biggest understatement of all time. The way you love and care about her is one of the many reasons I fell in love with you. The way a guy treats his mom says a lot about how he’ll treat you, and with you it said ‘oh my god he’s perfect’. You do everything you can for her, even though it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. I admire that; I can only wish to be that kind and giving. 

We both took a few days off to go see her, and when we were in the airport I pulled out this book and tried to read it. 

“That’s mom’s favorite,” You said, smiling at me shyly. 

“I know.” 

The plane was delayed due to a storm. We sat waiting and waiting for a few hours, your hand on my thigh and my head on your shoulder as I desperately tried to read this book. I really did. I stumbled through about 50 pages but had retained literally nothing. I found myself rereading sentences like ten times over and trying to decode them. I felt embarrassed about it. You could read the whole thing with your morning coffee and immediately recite it forwards and backwards, and translate it into Korean and Russian flawlessly and there I was, sounding out every word. It’s not like I can’t read. I can read, I just can’t read and comprehend 1500s English very well. Science was always my strong suit.

I didn’t get much farther on the plane ride either. You, on the other hand, brought a whole library in your carry on and on that 5 hour plane ride you read two thick books, took an hour long nap, played solitaire (twice), won war against me (twice), and ate all the snacks I brought for you. And in that same time frame, I had gotten through maybe half of the book, taking very long breaks to stare out the window, talk to you, and try to sleep. 

“What part are you at?” You asked me at one point and I just kind of stared at you. 

“Uh, the uh, part where she’s going to Jerusalem?”

You chuckled, “That’s not very far.”

I shoved you playfully, “Hey! It’s confusing and hard to understand!”

You reached for the book, trying to take it from me, “Let me see.”

I moved it out of reach, “No! I need to figure it out on my own.” You smiled and let me keep trudging along. 

When you woke up from your nap your head was on my shoulder and I was running my fingers through your hair like I usually do did when you slept. 

“You don’t have to read it, Y/N,” you mumbled, your voice groggy with sleep. It’s always raspy when you first wake up. 

“I know, I just thought maybe I would impress her.”

You smiled and leaned over and kissed my cheek, “I love that, but don’t worry. I promise she’ll love you.”

Then you nuzzled into the crook of my neck and fell back asleep. I put my head on top of yours, closed the book, and allowed myself to do the same. 

When we landed, it was hot. Like, ungodly hot. No wonder you can't stand the cold. 

We first went to the hotel and I changed into more appropriate clothes for the weather. You somehow still had on slacks and a shirt, I don’t know how you didn’t sweat to death. I drove us to the sanitarium, and you were nervous, you barely even spoke. You were twiddling with your fingers and bouncing your leg, I didn’t have to use my profiling skills to figure it out. The radio was off and you stared out the window. 

“How long has it been?” I finally said. 

“Three hundred and six days.”

I just nodded, your nerves added onto mine tenfold and I thought I may faint. I got us there safely though. 

“You stay here, I’m going to see if it’s a good day. If not we’ll come tomorrow,” You said. 

I just nodded and leaned over to kiss you. It took way longer than I thought it would for you to come out and when you did you were smiling. Huge. 

“Good day?” I asked, hopping out of the car. You just nodded, still grinning ear-to-ear. You grabbed my hand and every nerve I had melted away. You always had that effect on me, even when we were just friends. No one will ever get me in the same way again. Even if they tried, I wouldn’t let them. You were it for me”

Spencer reached for the mug to take another sip and found it was already empty. He stared into the bottom of the mug where some sugar hadn’t dissolved and mulled over that last sentence.

You were it for me.

He put the mug down forcefully, knocking a few chess pieces over.

So then why wouldn’t you LET him be it for you?

“You led me to her, pulling me behind you, whispering reassurances to me the entire time. 

“Mom, this is Y/N, Y/N this is my mother.”

I came out from behind you, probably looking like a meek little mouse, “Hello.” I waved. 

“Now Spencer, you didn’t tell me she was pretty.”

You blushed and stammered, she chuckled, “It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Likewise,” I said, and shook her hand. It was warm and soft like yours. In fact, so much of her is in you. You don’t look the same, but your mannerisms are pretty close to identical. Her hair is lighter than yours but equally as wild. I love her, because she’s you. So many parts of you, the best parts of you. She made you, and I love you, so I love her too. 

You let us talk alone for a while and she told me about your childhood. How she called you ‘crash’ because you were always running into something. How you were always the smartest kid around and how she was so proud to be your mom. She told me about the letters you send her, much like the one I’m writing right now. You told her about all our adventures, nights crying over Emily, the film festival, Jacksonville (PG version of course); you told her all of it. Your mom had your version of our love story hidden in letters somewhere in her room. That inspired me to write my version, the version you’re reading right now. 

She told me she knew we were together before you even told her because all your letters became about me. All the case stories had me and you as the stars, everyone else falling into the background. Hearing how you talked to her about me made my insides feel all fuzzy. You told her I was intelligent, courageous, empathetic, funny, and pretty much every other positive adjective you could find. 

“I’ve never heard him talk about anyone the way he talks about you,” she told me, “He definitely cares about you.”

I smiled, “I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about him.”

“So you love him?” 

I was taken aback at first, and paused for a moment to think, “Yeah, I do.”

It’s a weird thing to say to your boyfriend’s mom the first time you meet her, but she’s just so easy to talk to. It’s double weird because I hadn’t even told you that I loved you yet. I was being honest, I never loved anyone the way I loved you. 

“I couldn’t ask for anything more for him.”

Then I hugged her awkwardly and you came back in. I was trying and failing to suppress the smile on my face the whole time. The three of us talked until visiting hours were over. We left her with the promise that we’d be back again tomorrow.

“I was right Y/N, she loves you!” You said as we climbed back into the rental.

“She’s pretty great,” I said and held your face in my hand, “So are you.”

Tomorrow never came. 

The next day was a bad one for her, so you took me to the neighborhood you grew up in, pointing out the sites you wanted me to see and telling me the memories you had there. You took me to get chicken fried lobster at Binion’s. You held my hand as we walked down the Las Vegas strip, pointing out the ones you’re banned from. On the last day, we ordered room service and spent all day in bed, not bothering to get dressed. I loved learning about your past. At the time I anticipated being part of your whole future; I would be in every story for the rest of your life. I hate that now I’m just another chapter of it.

On the flight home I cracked open the book again and this time I read it with newfound vigor. I had a new appreciation for it after talking to your mom. You watched me flip through it, highlighting and annotating like I was in English class. You peered over my shoulder the whole time, and don’t think I didn’t see the smirk on your face. 

“When her crying passed, she came before the Archbishop and fell down on her knees, the Archbishop saying very roughly to her, “Why do you weep so, woman?” I read aloud, looking up into your warm eyes as we descended. 

“She answering said, ‘Sir, you shall wish some day that you had wept as sorely as I,’” you finished, not even having to look at the page. 

You have wept as sorely as I, Spencer, and I do not wish this feeling on anyone. 

I closed the book and held it to my chest, staring at you and mustering up the nerve to say it.

“I love you,” I whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You tried to contain your grin and scrunched up your eyebrows. You cupped your ear and pretended you couldn’t hear me, “What was that?”

I rolled my eyes, “I love you.” I said it louder, more forcefully this time. 

“I love you too,” you said, no hesitation. 

I turned my head up to catch your lips and seal the whole weekend with a kiss. 

It’s kind of funny how I confessed my love for you up in the sky, among the clouds, somewhere over Virginia. It’s funny because I was on cloud nine, almost literally. It felt so good to finally say it. We were in love, arguably the most magical thing in the world. There is no one I would rather have experienced that with than you, Spence. And no one I will ever experience it with again. 

Your mother and I write to each other sometimes. Like remember when she went to the Grand Canyon? She may have sent you the Grand Canyon, but she sent me a turquoise necklace, which I will be keeping. She wrote to me once in the last few weeks since we broke up. I can’t answer. I can’t send her any more letters, it doesn’t feel right; it’s no longer my place. 

So next time you visit her, show her this. I hope she doesn’t mind that I wrote in parts of it, maybe someday I’ll be able to find it in myself to write to her again and she can tell me what I missed or got wrong. Give her a hug for me Spence, and tell her I’m sorry, I wish I could come in person to tell her, but I can’t. Tell her I already miss her. I know how happy she was for us, how excited she was about... well everything. How excited we all were. Tell her I’m sorry that I couldn’t do it. Thank her for making you who you are, the most amazing man alive. Tell her it’s been a privilege, because it has been. I mean that.”

Spencer cracked open the book and admired your dog-eared pages and highlighted bits, reading your annotations and rough translations of old English to modern English. He sighed and slid his fingers down the pages. His chest tightened as if he should cry, but no tears could fall anymore. Instead, he stood up and put the book on a shelf, where one day he’d read it again to remember that weekend. To remember you. He walked slowly back to the kitchen, filled his mug again and went to find the box.

(part 6)

tags! (if you would like to be added just let me know!): @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake @boiled-onionrings @andiebeaword @frnks-stuff  

[hobicomeholla29]

‘Perfect Timing’ - One-Shot

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Crack/ Fluff

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: curse words

A/N: Unedited cuz it’s 2AM/Gotta thank my fav beta reader @sugaa-sugaaa​ for bearing with me and my shenanigans

Summary: Tae and his girlfriend want time off bangtan but does bangtan want the same? AKA Jimin is petty xD

Masterlist

~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~

"Are you ready?" You whispered to him.

"Ready!" He whispered back.

 The time on your phone read 2:30AM. The perfect time for sneaking out of a house full of 20 something year-olds, who want to spend their time-off together with their best friends at a secluded country club, but one of them wanted to escape the place, to spend that time with his girlfriend.

 "Ow! Tannie! That was my finger!"

"Shhh! Don't yell at Tannie and hurry up!"

Usually Yeontan doesn't bite, but Taehyung had been bribing him with a beef jerky, so he wouldn't bark, as you guys made your way through the house. You both swung your backpacks over your shoulder, phones in your pocket and Tannie in arms.

 Taehyung's room was the last in corridor, which meant that you had to walk by all of the other boy's rooms in order to make it to the stairs and to the front door, to then walk to the main gate and get in the uber that would be arriving soon to take you to the airport.

 You turned the knob for the door and pulled it open, making sure you made little to no noise.

You were aware of the creaking sound all the doors in this house made when they were being opened or closed and it the middle of the night, someone was bound to hear it.

You fully exited the room, making sure your step is inaudible and soon after Taehyung followed with Yeontan in his arms as he clicked the door closed behind him.

 In front of you, a long hallway with 4 doors to each side, remained. On each side of the hall, one of the doors was a bathroom and the remaining ones were bedrooms.

 The first doors you walked by, were Jungkook’s to the left and Hoseok’s to the right. You are almost certain that Hoseok was knocked the heck out, but Jungkook might have been up late.

 You signaled Taehyung to wait until you went first, that way you could check if any lights could be seen coming from under the door.

You went past the door without a problem and so did Tae right after.

 The next 2 doors were Namjoon’s to the left and Jin’s to the right. Both were dangerous. Jin could be gaming and Namjoon could be reading or producing or writing or whatever a Kim Namjoon does with his free time at 2:00AM.

 Tae made a sign, stating he would go first, since he could recognize if there was any shuffling behind the doors better than you could.

He signed once more that the coast was clear, and you quickly ran to his side.

 The next 2 doors were easy. They were both bathrooms, however right after them, the last two doors remained, where Yoongi and Jimin slept. Yoongi to the left and Jimin to the right.

 Right when you were a little past the bathroom and sighing in relief.

*Bark-bark*

Your eyes widened and searched for Tea's, whose features matched your expression.

You heard noise coming from one of the doors you had already passed by and started to panic.

 You bumped into each other twice, frantically shifting around as you thought about what to do.

Suddenly you felt like you were being pulled back, you yelped a little and your mouth was quickly covered by a hand.

Taehyung had pulled you both into the bathroom and locked yourselves inside.

Almost instantly a knock came from the door.

 "Tae? Are you in there?"

Jin.

 He cleared his throat before answering.

 "Ye-Yeah!"

"Is Yeontan with you?"

"Yeah! Sorry if he woke you up."

"Nah, it's ok. I just thought he was out here alone."

"O-oh okay"

"Alright. Night Tae!"

"Night hyung."

 Once you both heard the door to his room click. You sighed and he dropped his hand from your mouth.

 "You know, we wouldn't have to be doing this, if you knew how to say no once in a while."

"I tried babe, but Guk was being whiny."

 You rolled your eyes at him and turned to open the door. Taehyung's hand stopped you, stating he should go first to make sure Jin was back in his room and you guys had a free path.

You nodded once to agree with his planned and looked at the time on your phone once more.

 2:40AM

 You watched as half of his body stayed within the bathroom while the other half peeked around the hallway.

Once he was sure you were good, he offered you his hand to hold and swiftly pulled you out of the bathroom.

By now you only had two more doors to go plus the stairs.

 Jimin and Yoongi had been easier than you had initially thought, and you were soon at the top of the stairs.

Ready to bolt for the front door, you skipped down the steps, freedom showing in your stride, however midway down the staircase, you noticed the light in the den was on, making you halt abruptly. The sudden stop caused Taehyung to crash into you and drop Yeontan, who squeaked and ran straight to the den.

 "Oh, hey boy! What are you doing down here all by yourself?"

 Jimin.

 You looked at Tae furrowing your brows as he whisper-argued back that that it was your fault for stopping randomly on a flight of stairs.

 "Stop yelling, give me your bag and go get Tan. I'll sneak out through the door in the kitchen. Meet me by the side gate."

 Taehyung nodded once, then proceeded to remove his backpack and hand it to you as he walked towards the den and you made your way towards the kitchen.

 "Oh! Taehyung! What are you doing up so late?" The young man asked your boyfriend, as he walked into the room where the light was coming from.

 This was your opportunity to dash to the kitchen and head for the back door, however not before hearing the rest of the conversation.

 "I was in the bathroom and Tan ran down here...."

 A pregnant minute went by before anyone said anything else and your nerves were starting to buzz, making you want to bite at your nails as a coping method.

 "You're ditching us.... aren’t you?" Jimin’s voice was firm yet calm.

 "I...I...." Taehyung stumbled at his words, probably trying to think of something to deny the statement.

 "Where is she? Y/n noona, stop hiding and get here... No one goes to the bathroom in jeans and a cap." You could almost see him giving you that smartass eyebrow-raise, face-palming at his sentence. Neither of you had thought about that.

 "Heard that..."

 You sighed deeply and slowly walked towards the den. Stupid Jimin, why he gotta be so clever at 2 AM

 As you made yourself enter the room, Jimin sat with his legs crossed on the grey sofa, while Taehyung stood stiffly in front of him with Tan now back in his arms.

 He wasn't looking at you, his eyes were trained on is book, simultaneously placing a bookmark on the page where he had probably ended before your interruption.

 His glasses rested at the end of his nose, while he glanced at you from over the top of the specs.

 "Hi Jimin..."

“Ah~ She finally shows her face.”

 You gave Jimin a tight guilty grin and adjusted the backpacks on your shoulder.

 “So…where are you going?”

 He addressed both of you, but Taehyung threw a glance your way, just to see your reaction before answering.

Your face remained stoic. Jimin was getting no info out of you. He would sell it to Jungkook for 20 bucks and ship him there himself.

 “I’m sorry Jimin-ie, we can’t tell you that. You’ll let the others know…”

 In your head you were squealing. Yes, Tae!

 “I mean, I could wake all of them now…”

“You wouldn’t…would you? We are soulmates…”

 A slight change in demeanor flew past Jimin’s profile, however it soon returned to his playful ways, his eyes closing slightly as a cheshire cat smile appeared on his lips.

 “Ok. Tae… since you are my soulmate…I won’t lie to you. I’m telling.” You both froze in place, your hand quickly reaching your boyfriend’s to brace yourself for what was to come.

“However, I’ll give you guys some advantage…Are you ok with that y/n noona?” Now he was looking at you directly. That punk.

 “What’s the advantage, Jimin-ie?” You asked a bit afraid of his little games.

Tae squeezed your hand a bit, reassuring you that everything would be fine.

 “I’ll give you guys 3 hours before I let everyone know you are gone.”

 You both checked your phones. The time read 3:00AM.

You had already wasted way too much time trying to get out of this dumb house, there was no other option but to take his offer.

 “Fine.” You muttered under your breath.

 “I’m sorry, what was that noona?”

 “I said that’s fine.” The uber was already outside, the driver had texted you while you dealt with this situation and you quickly answered you were going to be right there.

 “Well the clock is ticking…tick-tock, Tae Tae and y/n.” He said giggling, as he returned to his spot on the sofa and back to his book.

 You quickly pulled Tae by the hand and intertwined your fingers.

“Next time I see that miniature of a human, I’m glazing his donuts with mayo.” You murmured.

 “What was that babe?”

“Nothing, get running the uber is here.”

--

The exit from the house and the gates were seamless. You ran to the uber and apologized to the driver for wasting his time as you headed towards the airport.

Check-in at the airport was smooth and so was boarding.

The time on your phone showed.

5:00AM

 All was going as planned and you could not be happier.

Once you arrived at your destination. You felt safer. A whole country separating you guys from the rest of your friends.

Quickly catching a taxi to the bus terminal, you remembered why you wanted to bring Tae to that place. It was a secluded set of islands you had once seen online. They promised peace, quiet and privacy, while still having the basic needs nearby and there was little to no risk of other people finding you, AKA the rest of Bangtan.

You bought your tickets for the bus and once you were called for boarding, you were once again sitting in comfortable seats, resting your legs.

The drive was nearly 5 hours, however the gift that you received the moment you arrived, was worth all the troubles taken to get there.

The time was now 

2:00PM

Several small buildings decorated the end of the land portion and where land ceased to exist, docks connected it to the sea. All buildings had different colors that created a friendly atmosphere for tourists.

 You could see several speedboats coming and going, bringing people from the different islands that could be seen in the horizon.

 “Y/n...” That was the reaction you were hoping to get. His eyes so shiny and wide, full of wonder.

“Beautiful, right?”

 You walked hand in hand towards the building suggested by the bus driver and purchased tickets for the speedboats that would take you to your designated island, which was apparently named Dragon island and was one of the largest locations.

 The speedboats were larger than you thought. Fitting at least 6 people per boat.

Chairs were built-in for a comfortable trip and a small space was created in the back for luggage to be placed.

Your baggage was soon secured and in no time, you were headed towards the little island that would be your secret lair for the next 2 weeks,

The trip was nearly 30 minutes, waves causing the journey to be a bit bumpy, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

The Island was remarkably similar to the place where the docks were located.

Colorful buildings everywhere, they ranged from restaurants, to shops and bars and the owners seemed to live on the top part of the building, so cozy. The best part of it all, was you surrounded by the beautiful ocean and the golden sand under your feet as you held the hand of your bestest boy.

 Now it felt like a vacation.

 You were guided to a small golf cart where your backpacks were placed and ready to go.

The driver sat upfront, while you and Tae sat in the back.

The warm breeze felt so nice on your skin and you watched little kids run around and other tourists stroll the streets.

Beside you, Taehyung took pictures of everything that went by him. The sky, the people, the food stands, other golf carts, you.

“Do you know how much I love you right now?!” He was so excited, he wouldn’t stay put, causing the driver to chuckle a bit.

“Is that what it takes to make you love me more? Do you wanna go to the Bahamas next year?” You laughed and so did the driver once more.

 “Is it your first time here?”

“Yes!” You both replied excited.

The man ended up being very helpful, giving you suggestions on places to visit, food to taste and even the best places where to take amazing pictures.

 Kim Taehyung was stoked!

 “Thank you very much Sir!”

“You are very welcome! Enjoy your stay!”

 Now finally in your villa and ready for a day of relaxation after so much traveling.

 3:00PM

You and Tae swiftly changed and headed for the water while Yeontan stayed in the villa.

The water was warm, helping you relax even further.

Your boyfriend took this time to do what he had been missing for so long. Being as lovey-dovey as possible.

He wrapped your legs around him and swam aimlessly as he carried you, he gave you ‘exfoliating’ massages with sand, he intertwined your fingers together to pull you closer when you went too far away from him and he kissed you softly for hours whispering sweet nothings in your ears.

“I love you…I love you so much.” He said between kisses as he placed your arms around his neck.

“I love you too…more than you know.”

The first night had been a success. You had a 5-course gourmet meal arranged for you at the villa and accompanied it with fruit punch, because that’s what you and Tae liked.

 7:00PM

--

The morning after was still filled with bliss. Your boyfriend cuddling you as if you were going to escape, but you never complained. In fact, you liked it when he clinged to you in his sleep.

You stretched over him in bed to check for the time on your phone.

 10:00AM

 “Tae…Baby…Wake up. We should get breakfast.”

 You had no rush, so you let him take his time to get out of bed. Once you were both up and ready to go, the time was closer to lunch than to breakfast.

Tae had remembered the words of the driver the day before and decided to go there for lunch, since it wasn’t very far from your villa.

 --

1:00PM

 Once in the small restaurant, you headed towards a table near the back, while Taehyung placed your orders.

He returned faster that you had expected.

 “They only had pineapple or orange?”

“Pineapple please.”

 He went back to finish placing the order and returned to the table you had chosen.

--

You both enjoyed your food as you talked about the activities you wanted to do for the rest of the day.

Now with a plan set and a small list in mind, you stand and get ready to head out of the establishment, however in your carelessness, you had hit someone with the door.

 “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry; I didn’t mean t-” You began to apologize.

 2:00PM

 “That’s ok Noona. We’ve been looking for you.” You know that voice.

 “Jungkook?!” Tae just had to confirm it.

“If he’s here then-”

“Has no one ever told you, you should turn of your GPS, Y/n Noona?”

 You turned around slowly, fire in your eyes.

“I’ll give you 10 seconds Park Jimin…10…9…”

“Why are you guys even here?” Tae asked addressing Jungkook.

“Hyung said it would be fun to make noona miserable and that 2 o’clock would be the perfect timing…”

“Why though-” The rest of Taehyung’s question is cut short as you returned fuming.

“The rest of our friends are also here!” And like magic they all started appearing from behind her.

“Surprise!”

 “I hate 2:00 O’clock!”

[nymphigeon]

Roses Have Thorns

♡ Pairing; Jungkook x Reader

♡ Genre; Angst, Fluff, Fantasy!AU, Supernatural!AU, S2L, Student!Jungkook, Wizard!Jungkook, Angel!Reader, Demon!Reader, Student!Reader

♡ Warnings (for this chapter); Swearing, mentions of stabbing, an attack

♡ Rating; NC-17

♡ Words; 2893

♡ Summary; A girl forced to live in fear because of her own power. Even though she isn’t supposed to exist, she wants to live. She’ll just make sure that she breaks herself over and over until there is nothing left of her. He, of course, won’t let her.

Series masterlist

 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Two

“Haeun? Is this yours?” You ask as you walk into your mansion’s private library. In the middle of the library stands a long table with chairs all round. Only one of the chairs is taken. “I found this glass looking thing in my room, but I can’t remember having anything like it.” You open the palm of your hand to show the item mentioned.

Haeun doesn’t look up from her book, but somehow still knows what you’re talking about. “It’s a regeneration crystal. As long as you keep it on you the crystal will heal all wounds until it’s drained of power. After that you can keep it as a pretty rock or throw it out if you wish. A gift from one of mother’s clients. We all have one.”

Despite spending her time reading a book, she couldn’t have looked more bored. You can’t read the title on the cover with the way she’s holding it, but if you had to guess it’s probably something college related.

“Why would they gift regeneration crystals? They’re crazy expensive and it’s not like one of us gets stabbed every day.” You look at the tiny crystal in your hand with a puzzled look. For the longest time these crystals were thought to be a myth. Something someone thought of while writing their newest fantasy thriller.

Everyone claiming they had one got called crazy and eventually, nobody spoke of them anymore. Too scared to be criticized by a large number of people, these owners of the regeneration crystals got silenced.

It wasn’t until a group of researches accidentally stumbled upon a small warehouse filled with the crystals that the supposed myth was proven to be reality. A few powerful witches had been creating them, hoping to be able to distribute them among those joining the military.

Back then the crystals weren’t nearly as powerful or small as they are now, but as a myth proven true all the tabloids were filled with the news. Obviously the researches saw money in the crystals, and instead of giving them to those that needed them for free like the witches wanted, they sold them off to those with power.

Needles to say the creators were angry and stopped producing them. Some say they still created the crystals in secret, giving them off to the ones they trusted as soon as they were done so nobody could selfishly steal them, though this was never confirmed.

It wasn’t until a few years later that researches found another type of witches who were able to make them. These individuals had a completely different mindset compared to the original inventors, and decided to team up with the researchers, creating the crystals to sell them.

Sadly, both types of witches that were able to produce these see-through stones slowly died out, leaving just a handful all over the world. The crystals got rarer by the day, prices skyrocketing. If you’re lucky you’ll meet a nice witch sometime during your life who will create you a free crystal. If not, you must be ready to pay a fortune.

“Should you really be talking though? If anything you need it the most out of us all.” She closes her book after placing a bookmark in between pages. “Nobody is trying to harm me Haeun.”

Your older sister never seemed to particularly like you, and you’ve never been able to find out why. Out of your three siblings, all older than you, she’s the only one who seems to hold a grudge against you. By now it’s almost an everyday occurrence, wondering why she was the only one that had to stay home besides yourself, while the others moved out when they finished high school.

“Because you’ve been protected by a stuck-up entitled brat your whole life.” She glares at you and pushes her chair back to stand up, clearly not wanting to be in the same room as you. “You’re lucky you’re mom’s child. She’s probably the only person who would go through such great lengths to make sure you’re safe.”

Being the youngest child, you’ve always sought for the validation of your older siblings. That worked two times, or more specific, it worked for the two twins in the household. Your 24 year old brother and sister adore you, always calling to make sure everything is okay back home. Haeun though, can’t seem to hold that same energy.

“You truly speak like a fully-fledged demon.” You do not wish to fight with her, still, you also can’t just let her get away with her words. Perhaps this is your own way of trying to show her that she hurt you.

“I’d like to remind you that your own mother and like half of your family tree is full-demon.” She seems to think your distress is amusing, happily replying to your insults. “You’re the only one whose personality matches one as well.”

Somewhere you were hoping she’d comfort you, apologizing for her words. “If I’m so bad then why is nobody hunting me down? Why am I not the one being protected?” You can’t do anything but look at the ground and stand there, not knowing what to say.

Haeun, noticing your lack of answer, walks up to you so she can deliver her following words right in your face. “You know, criminals aren’t supposed to be protected.” Walking past you, she gets to the exit of the room.

“I didn’t do anything.” Once again you’re trying to hold back tears. Why do you have to be such a cry baby? “Keep telling yourself that. Hopefully it’ll come true one day.” Is it her mission to make you feel as miserable as she possibly can?

“Is it so wrong to just want to feel safe?” You whisper, but her sensitive ears still hear you. “In your case, of course it is.” With that she walks out, letting the door fall closed behind her. With her she takes the little confidence you managed to build up for yourself.

The loud thud of something – or rather a bunch of things – falling wakes Jungkook up. Complete silence follows the sound, almost as if it was never even there. The still tired boy groans, rolls over, and gets ready to fall back asleep. It’s Saturday, waking up at any time before 1 pm is way too early according to him.

Just for a second Jungkook debates whether he should go check if everything is okay, but quickly dismisses the thought. Nobody is screaming out it pain, so it should be fine. Except if said person fucked up so bad that whatever fell instantly killed them.

Jungkook sighs and accepts the fact that he might be a teensy bit worried. He yawns, not caring to block his mouth, and sits up in bed. There’s not much his eyes have to adjust to, as the room is still completely dark thanks to his blackout curtains hanging in front of the windows. The curtains were hell for his basically empty bank account back when he bought them, but damn do they do a good job at keeping the light out.

He can’t tell what time it is, but his droopy eyes tell him it’s definitely nowhere near noon yet. Getting out of bed, Jungkook puts some socks on his bare feet. It’s no secret that their laminate flooring is almost always freezing in the mornings. There was even a time when Namjoon was sure some evil spell had been casted on their floor, doing his best to get rid of it. Needless to say, that didn’t go very well. Turns out no evil spell was on the floor, their bitchy apartment just loses heat really fast.

When Jungkook walks out of his room he calls out for the only other person living there. “Namjoon?” He squints at the light coming through the living room windows. Both Namjoon and Jungkook have their own room, so there was no need to get any curtains for the living room. It would just have been a waste of money, although Jungkook is thinking of buying some for his poor eyes.

Nobody answers his call. Did these things just fall on their own then? Jungkook is quite sure he doesn’t live with a pair of ghosts, so he shuffles a bit further into the room and calls out again. “Is everything okay? Where are you?” He raises the volume of his voice a bit, hoping that it will help.

He can’t help but lightly cringe at the way he sounds, having forgotten he only woke up a few minutes ago and his voice is still laced with sleep. “I’m here Jungkook.” This time Namjoon responds to the call from the kitchen.

Jungkook walks over to the kitchen to check on the current situation. “What happened? I heard something falling and-“ Abruptly stopping his speech, Jungkook’s eyes widen as soon as he reaches the doorway.

The kitchen floor is an absolute mess. Food laying everywhere on top of what seems to be a dozen of broken eggs, with Namjoon’s form desperately trying to clean at the side. “Wha- How did you…” It takes him a moment before he can manage to form a proper sentence, not sure if what he’s seeing is real.

“Why is there food all over the floor?!” Jungkook nearly screams in shock. Luckily none of his snacks ended up on the floor, having no need to be refrigerated. They are still safely tucked away somewhere in one of the cupboards.

“I wanted to take something out of the fridge without moving the rest in front of it, but as you see, it kind of failed..” Namjoon looks guilty. Not only did he throw hard earned money on the floor, he also woke his roommate up in the process. Two things he likes to avoid.

Jungkook internally face palms, but doesn’t show it on his face. “This is what you get for being lazy.” Although he probably shouldn’t be saying that, as he is usually the lazy one. Jungkook bends down to get a towel from one of the lower cupboards. Initially he was going straight back to sleep after seeing what happened, but he’d feel bad if he just left Namjoon alone here.

“No worries, I’ll help you.” He smiles at his friend, trying to somehow comfort him. “Thank you.” Namjoon scratches the back of his head out of embarrassment, before audible sighing. “I’ll go get the mop.” He lets Jungkook know before walking out. This was not how Jungkook imagined he would be spending his Saturday morning, but at least nobody got hurt.

“Eleanor.” She didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind her. Having heard his voice for years now, the sound is most familiar to her. Comforting, soft, caring.

“It’s getting cold, so I brought you a jacket.” Elenora smiles and takes the jacket her husband offers her. “Thank you.”

The temperature dropping hadn’t been on her mind, too deep in her own thoughts. She’s thankful for the garment, instantly feeling a lot warmer.

“What do you think of the flowers?” Elenora asks Minho right after he sits down next to her. “I planted them before my sister brought the kids over, since Juwon likes them.” A small smile is plastered on her face at the thought of her excited nephew.

“They’re pretty, I like them.” He feels her eyes on him and looks down to meet her gaze. Having been caught, Elenora quickly turns her head in the opposite direction. They have been married for quite a few years, but sometimes she still acts like a high school student having a crush.

“I’m glad.”

Silence follows. Minho wasn’t planning on staying outside with her, but now that he’s here he might as well enjoy the fresh air. Besides, something feels off, a pull keeping him next to her.

“Am I a bad person?” The silence get cut by an unexpected question. “Eleanor-” “I’m making sure that someone who shouldn’t have power, keeps her crown. At this point I’m just spreading propaganda.”

She sighs and rests her head in her hands, covering her face. “I’m trying to keep someone safe by helping those with ill intentions. Does that make me a bad person?” She isn’t necessarily looking for an answer, she knows there is none.

“I agreed to it. If that makes you a bad person then I’m one too.” Scooting closer, Minho takes her hands from her face, squeezing lightly. “Angels can’t be bad, that’s exactly what they’re known for, what gives them their name.” She lets out a sad sounding chuckle. Despite everything, she can find a little enjoyment in the statement.

“There’s a first for everything.” He smiles at her, stroking the back of her hands. “No one is ever 100% good, but I’d like to think you are.” They say love makes you blind, and maybe she is, but she doesn’t really care.

“Then you are too.” No hesitation in his voice. She isn’t sure what makes him say that, but she’ll believe his words for now.

“We’ll figure out a way to satisfy everyone eventually. It just takes time of course. I trust the story won’t end badly.” He isn’t sure how to comfort her or how to give her an answer. All he can do now is support her. “I do hope so.” She lays her head on his shoulder, hoping that perhaps all her problems will disappear if she just forgets about them.

Jungkook usually loves the fact that the stores in town are open until late. He can’t even count the amount of times he went out at night to restock the snack he ate during the day, thanking the Lord for the gift of convenience stores.

Right now though, he hates it. Had the stores been closed by now, Namjoon wouldn’t have pushed him out the door to do the weekly grocery shopping, and Jungkook could have still been playing the new game he bought a week ago to which he ended up getting addicted to.

Well he wasn’t really forced out of the door, more like Namjoon convinced him to go. Damn him for having an important appointment with his project partner. Who wants to do school work during the weekend anyway?

“I should have everything now.” He murmurs while peering into the plastic bag dangling from his arm, looking back and forth between its contents and the shopping list to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

Jungkook probably bought more ramen than needed, but as long as he didn’t forget anything it should be fine. Even though it’s Jungkook who does most of the cooking in the house, Namjoon isn’t scared to scold him whenever he forgets something. Ridiculous, It isn’t even his fault the fridge ended up empty.

Realizing he still needs one of the vegetables, he turns around, walking back to the store he just came from with sighs and curses leaving his mouth. All he wants to do is go home and just get this done. There is nothing likable about eggplants anyway, when will he ever use them to cook?

Luckily for him, he won’t need to go back after all. Though, giving your life for not having to get an eggplant may seem a bit much. Not that he really has a choice in the unfair trade anyway.

Jungkook’s steps are fast, arriving at the grocery store as soon as possible is the only thing on his mind. It’s not until the clock strikes 9 pm exactly that he is forced to stop, an incredible heat closing in on his spot.

Someone somewhere screams. People everywhere start running in opposite directions, blindly clashing into each other. A few trip and fall, crawling to safety between the legs blocking their path. Others faint, their heads not being able to make sense of what’s happening.

Nobody minds them, forcefully stepping on the bodies of those on the ground. With the way people are moving it won’t be long before the entire street is empty. It’s complete chaos.

Jungkook, still standing where he stopped, looks up at the sky, searching for the cause of all this madness. He regrets it instantly, having probably been off better without knowing what was about to end him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight.

About to set fire to everyone and everything, a massive blue fireball is raging his way. The bag he was holding falls to the ground, his eyes widening. It’s not hard to guess who the sender is. Luna is still after him.

It’s like time suddenly slows down substantially. The fireball is still so far away, yet also way too close. A memory of Namjoon chanting an extinguishing spell flashes through Jungkook’s mind, but is all too soon forgotten. Maybe if he had actually paid attention at that time he would be able to save himself now.

Frozen with fear, his feet refuse to move. He can’t do anything. Shivering all over, Jungkook crosses his arms in front of him as a way to shield himself. Maybe if he can’t see anything, it will cease to exist. And thus he closes his eyes as tightly as he can, waiting for the burning hot impact. He had long accepted his fate. It’s over for him.

[ellstersmash]

Three: Sixteen

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan (Modern!AU)

Rating: overall E for Explicit | this chapter T for Teen

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--

Athi moves the rearview mirror a fraction of an inch. Returns it to its original position, then back. Tough to tell if her discomfort is due to a misjudged angle or the fact that it’s been more than a year since she’s driven anything other than her bike. Not as if she could have let him drive, though. Not in his current state.

“Take this to Saelac,” Solas murmurs. 

He has his eyes shut, but his thumb is still softly stroking hers the way it has been since she pulled onto the freeway. She expected him to pass out right away, but then this city’s policy on roadwork seems to be: Not if we can help it. Every street is scarred with what must be two decades’ worth of springtime patches, and if he couldn’t sleep through a little bit of air turbulence, he sure won’t manage it here.

“How was your week?” he asks, words quiet and slurring together. Enunciation is hard work.

So she tells him about the bar. About the missing, well, everything, and the cleaning list, and Tali’s prediction that Seggrit will be getting more involved with the day-to-day operations, and how for all that she gripes about it, his absence is what makes her job mostly tolerable. Solas nods where more or less appropriate, sometimes smiling sleepily at her tale from the passenger seat.

She tells him about the houseplant she bought. Remembers she forgot to water it today. Yesterday, too. Fuck.

And she tells him about Sera. About their argument and Dagna moving in, and how odd that will be. How sudden it all is, and maybe destined to be a disaster but worth a try, right? She gets the sudden urge to retreat. Three steps at least away from this talk of people moving in together, of possible futures that they’re far too brand new to traverse, even in conversation, even unrelated to either of them entirely. And maybe he feels it too, because he perks up only to fixate on the rally. Asks her when and where and what's it for and who's in charge and whether or not they got a permit and has the audacity to frown when she admits she won’t be there.

"How unfortunate," he says.

Athi groans."Not you, too."

"Excuse me?"

"Sera already gave me shit about it, so if that's your angle I don't want to hear it."

"I did not intend to ‘give you shit,’ no. I was hoping to invite myself along."

"Really?"

"Yes, it is a worthy cause. I had no idea Sera was such an advocate for social reform."

“Then you don’t know her very well.”

“Clearly I have misjudged her.”

“Why are you interested?”

“Why would I not be?”

She tries not to twist that into an accusation. "You just don't strike me as that kind of guy."

"The kind who cares, or the kind who takes action?"

Eyes on the road, it’s impossible to tell if he’s as offended as he sounds. She shrugs. "Both? Seems like you'd rather dig up the past than fix the future."

“Perhaps you have misjudged me, for I do not see the two as mutually exclusive. Take this next exit, then left at the light.”

The change in subject is a welcome one, but she needs her hand to downshift. Squeezes his before she lets go. Not an apology, not for that, but a no hard feelings. His house is only a few blocks away from here, but that’s as much as she remembers because the streets in this section are laid out in a grid and the corners are basically identical.

“Third one down, take a right.”

The yellow house with the overgrown garden jogs her memory. The plants are sad and brittle and dying now and the last time she passed it was early spring, so the perennials had not yet bloomed and the rest was only partially planted. But it must be a sight to behold in the throes of summer. The colorful pinwheels and kitschy glass butterflies sticking up from the withering stalks imply a love of whimsy, and there’s a small white bench surrounded by unlit lanterns under a nearby tree. She hopes she gets to sit there one day. Hopes the neighbors are friendly.

He has her park in his driveway, nose to the garage and she wonders if he’s filled it with more piles and boxes of dusty books or if he just doesn’t want to bother with the door.

Solas points out the house key for her, then grabs his luggage. Once she realizes the lock is upside-down and gets it open, she flicks the front hall lights on and it’s jarring. The house has that hush which places sometimes get after a prolonged vacancy—an absence of sound to soak up and spit out, and the jingle of his keys in her hand and the scrape of his suitcase on the doorframe are too loud. Like it forgot it was ever lived in. 

But nothing else has changed. Not the clutter in the office. Not the cobweb high in the corner. Not even the slight skew of the painting hanging in the living room. Maybe if they’d made these plans before he had left, he’d have tidied up . . . or maybe not. She doesn’t know him well enough to guess.

“If you do not mind, I have been looking forward to a shower all day,” he says and leans his bag against the wall. Starts down the hall toward the kitchen, then stops so abruptly she nearly runs into him.

“I haven’t kissed you yet,” he says, half epiphany, half confession.

Athi threads her arms around him, pleased to discover the tension between them is gone. “I’m very aware.”

His gaze rests on her lips and he blinks slow, as if the effort to open them again is monumental. When he lowers his face to kiss her it is terribly gentle and maybe it’s not on purpose. Maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but it makes her melt. 

Without a reason not to, her hands wander. Slide over the row of tiny gray buttons on his shirt, push the boundaries of his collar. They graze along his throat and through the short dark hair on his scalp, barely there but for the way it catches on her fingerprints. She presses closer before they part, her dazed and him borderline delirious.

“Ok, go shower,” she urges him. “And don’t doze off in there. I’ll have to make fun of you.”

“After that? It is unlikely I’ll be able to sleep at all.” But his dopey grin belies the truth. “Though if you are concerned for my well-being, you are more than welcome to join me.”

Gods, she never sees it coming. He slides straight from stumbling and sleep-deprived to smooth insinuation like it’s his default setting and she wants to say yes. But she knows better. 

“See, that sounds sexy right up until you’re trying to get to sleep with my hair dripping cold water all over the both of us. Besides, I have some snooping to do.” Teasing, of course. She doesn’t care where he keeps his linens or what lies hidden under his socks.

“By all means, peek anywhere you like. Except the attic, which is strictly off-limits.”

Her eyes light up. “Why, what’s in the attic?”

But he only laughs and heads up the stairs. Pauses halfway up and calls down, “Do you need anything?”

Right on cue.

“I’m good,” she assures him. “Go.”

A sharp squeak is followed by the rush of water through old pipes as she skims the shit on his refrigerator. A coupon for an oil change and receipt from an art supply store. Nothing interesting in the least. His magnets are a confused but equally unenlightening collection of local restaurants’ takeout info and unused metal clips.

A few books sit on the island. Sundered: The Scientific Renaissance of Post-Veil Thedas; The Fade: Fact or Fiction?; and An Exhaustive Documentation of Suspected Elvhen Artifacts Destroyed in the Divine Age. She lifts the cover of the top one, flips pages until she comes to a black business card serving as a makeshift bookmark, scans a few lines:

After their own dark period, the Qunari appear to have focused their collective efforts toward adjusting to these new laws of nature. Extensive, detailed records show rapid technological advancement through experimentation and invention, much of which laid the foundation for generations’ worth of progress. Indeed, many modern conveniences can be traced back to their early successes.

Not exactly light reading. Though pretty typical for him, she suspects. What unsettles her is not the books or the boring refrigerator door. It’s the fact that in all of these rooms—the entryway, the study, the kitchen, the living room—all these living spaces, there are no pictures. Not of anyone. His home is steeped in history, but not his own. She's good at being alone, but at least when she inevitably uproots she takes the memories with her. He has nothing. No drawer full of snapshots to match hers, like some sort of trail to prove his existence.

Maybe they’re just very different people. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. Maybe he isn’t the type to take pictures. Or to keep them. Maybe his memories are painful. Maybe they were lost in some tragic accident that hasn’t come up in conversation yet.

Or maybe she’s reading into stuff she shouldn’t be. Again.

At the top of the stairs are two doors and two doorways. Bathroom’s straight ahead, shower still running. Next to that is a closed door, presumably the attic. The leftmost room is closed as well, but unlocked; there's nothing inside but a few file cabinets. The door to the right hangs open, revealing another bedroom. It is small and tidy with minimal furniture: a dresser and a full-length mirror, and a large bed flush with the corner, the thick crimson comforter slightly rumpled near the pillows on one side as if slept in, then hastily remade. A singular nightstand bears a simple swing-arm lamp.

She hunts through his dresser until she finds his T-shirts. Picks a white one with a logo on it from the middle, between freshly-washed and never-been-used. Not beloved—in case he cares—but not the crisp got-it-for-free-and-couldn’t-throw-it-out kind either. Sheds her clothes that smell like beer and citrus and bitters, all but her underwear and leaves them folded neatly on top of the dresser. Then she pulls on his shirt and knocks on the bathroom door frame.

“It’s open,” he yells, and she rolls her eyes. “Extra toothbrushes are in the lower right drawer, and the toothpaste is behind the mirror.”

“Uh huh,” she answers, but is beginning to regret turning down his offer. The shower curtain is nothing but a clear liner and with no door to keep it in, the steam does blessedly little to conceal his form. There’s still time; for more than a moment she contemplates stripping back down and slipping in, but then he shuts off the water and stretches a dripping arm out for his towel so she goes for the toothbrush instead.

By the time he emerges with that same towel wrapped around his hips, she’s finished and gives his reflection an appreciative glance.

He returns it and tugs on her sleeve. “The Lothering Museum of History will be thrilled to have your endorsement.”

“Why am I not surprised that you don’t have a real shower curtain?”

“This curtain is perfectly sufficient.”

“Hey.” Athi raises her hands and follows him into the bedroom. “Not complaining.”

She also doesn’t complain about the precious seconds between him losing the towel and gaining a pair of pajama pants. He’s fit. Cut, not bulky. Studying old stuff and reading books and attending conferences can’t possibly be a direct line to muscle definition and she wonders what he does to work out. If they could do it together. He doesn’t strike her as a runner, but he might enjoy climbing.

Solas interrupts her plans with a brief kiss, trades the overhead light for the bedside one. Four in the morning is hardly late by her standards, but she can tell as his head hits the pillow that he feels it. He tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles, sleepy and sideways.

“Thank you for coming over.”

Athi turns her head and kisses his fingers and whispers, “Thank you for getting naked.”

She’ll be the funny one forever if it means his nose will always crinkle like that.

“I am sorry that I am not—”

“No.” She presses a thumb to his lips to cut short his apology. “That’s not what I’m here for. Really enjoyed the view, though.”

His face is shadowed by the same light shining in her eyes, but the expression he wears is warm. He hits the switch and the room goes dark. She scoots in closer. Tangles their legs. Wriggles until she’s comfortable. It doesn’t take long, like a sign, or a nod from the universe.

We just fit.

Solas is asleep before she’s even ready to try. There are freckles scattered across his shoulders, constellations to trace while she waits. Tries to match his languid breathing. Thinks about where his pictures went. Almost there, then hits the last and loudest stop on her train of thought’s meandering track, and she’s jolted awake.

The bookmark. The business card. The cleaning and packing up. The answer has been stuffed into the back pocket of her least-favorite jeans for weeks.

Seggrit is selling the fucking bar.

--

She wakes up alone. Sprawled out in sheets that smell like him but without the him they belong to. Adjusting, she stares into the middle distance and listens to a faraway set of sounds—the fridge opens, then shuts, the clink of dishes and creak of the floor.

Seggrit is selling the bar. She has no idea what to do with that news except to tell Tali, have her check the books to confirm. They’ve been behind by at least a month for as long as Athi’s worked there, usually more, and if he’s really going to get rid of the place he’ll have had to catch up.

She rolls out of bed, digs her toes into the carpet. It could be nine or noon or later for all she knows. The sun here is strange, and there’s no clock in this room to tell her so she goes searching for one downstairs.

A mosaic-faced antique by the sliding door claims it’s noon.

“Good morning,” Solas says from the kitchen.

She mumbles something resembling words. Seven more steps and she hugs him from behind and they fit so well and his heart is beating fast and he stops whisking eggs to stand there with her all quiet and it’s not morning anymore and he should have stayed in bed and she needs to text Tali and—

“I want coffee,” she whines. Doesn’t mean to whine, but there it is. What if he doesn’t have any? What if he’s one of those people that doesn’t keep coffee in their house?

She might cry.

“There is a bag in the cupboard at the end there, next to the mugs. I was going to make it for you, but—”

“Say no more.”

Gods, she’s glad he didn’t. No one makes it strong enough, and he’s too cute to disappoint so she would have had to drink it anyway. Pretend that pisswater was fine.

Cupboard on the end, right where he said. She slides it off the shelf and can’t help but flutter as she examines the packaging. It’s the same as the ones she bought—or tried to buy then he bought for her—at the coffee shop last year. Or maybe he just asked for “something strong” at the shop and this happened to be what they gave him, but regardless, he thought of her and that feels good all on its own. Her butterflies settle as she opens the bag, breathes in deep. Pours a generous pile into a fresh filter and fills the reservoir with water.

“Roast date on this is yesterday. Did you really leave me sleeping alone in your house?” she teases and pushes the button to start the brew cycle. “What if I had woken up and you were gone?”

“I did consider that possibility, but weighed against the certainty of the alternative, it seemed the wisest course of action.” He arches an eyebrow. “Was I wrong?”

“No.” Athi revisits the cupboard to shuffle through his assortment of mismatched mugs. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She selects one of the mugs, a pleasantly rounded stoneware dip-painted in orange and teal and gray. Her unofficial favorite. There is a newspaper, folded twice, laying on the counter between a plate covered in foil and two clean ones. Solas is reading rather than cooking. Maybe he’s fine with rubbery eggs, but she’s not so she leaves her mug to watch the coffee brew, plucks the spatula from his hand, takes over.

“Seggrit’s selling the bar,” she blurts out as she gently stirs, then scoops a heaping golden spoonful onto each plate. “I think.”

To his credit, Solas looks up from the article he’s so engrossed in. “Really?”

She nods.

“How do we feel about that?”

She shrugs.

“Perhaps you should buy it,” he says and moves his plate and his paper to the island. Yanks open the silverware drawer and hands her a fork. “You wanted to put your name on something, right?”

She snorts. “Didn’t mean literally.”

They eat breakfast right there in the kitchen. Hip to hip, or as close as she can get. Sausage from under the foil and rich maple syrup and toast and almost-perfect scrambled eggs and coffee he bought and didn’t make just for her.

Not a bad morning, truth be told.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Solas asks out of nowhere.

“Hmm?”

He is watching her intently and it occurs to her that she’s been grinning at empty space this whole time.

“Oh,” she says, “it’s nothing,” but her face won’t cooperate and Solas doesn’t buy it.

“It must be quite a pleasant piece of nothing to warrant such a smile. Are you sure it’s not something?” His voice drops low and he leans closer. “Perhaps even something you want to share with me?”

“They say 'bits' here, by the way. ‘Two bits for your thoughts.’ Just so you know.”

“Fascinating.” He doesn’t even pretend to sound sincere.

Oh, she wants to be brave. She makes him work a little harder for it. Keeps it locked up tight until he says please, then she scrunches her nose up where the honesty tickles, and spills even though it’s scary.

“I just . . . it’s nice waking up with you, and”—damn her burning cheeks—“I could get used to it. That’s all.”

Meeting his eyes afterward is a rush. Risk and reward all wrapped up in one because he is beaming right back at her.

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Fuck it. Athi polishes off her coffee. Slides her plate away and faces him fully. Fills her chest with air and bravado. “So what do you want?”

He looks at her quizzically.

“Yeah, context. Before we kissed—at my place, like for real—you asked what I wanted. I said I wanted you, which, I mean, I’ve wanted you since . . . ” She wants to say since the beginning but that’s so fucking cheesy. “Gods, since the coffee shop, I think. But when I asked what I meant to you, you deflected.”

Solas pauses. His gaze drifts, then snaps back. “You are right. I apologize.”

“Also not an answer.”

A full minute, or maybe an hour, passes as he percolates. She can almost see him directing his thoughts this way and that, organizing a response that shouldn’t be this complicated while her own mind skitters from one unsavory possibility to the next. 

“Should’ve sent my questions in ahead of time,” she jokes.

A brief, self-deprecating chuckle as he folds his fingers around hers. “In all fairness, your answer to the same question was efficient, but also vague. Is it so wrong of me to consider my own more carefully?”

“Got me there.”

“I was not trying to win. This conversation is an important one, and I feel it must be approached with both candor and subtlety.”

Candor and subtlety? Athi sighs. New tactic. “Listen, did you avoid the question on purpose?” 

She takes a steady breath—

“No.”

—and lets it out. “Well then, to be honest, I was kind of hoping we could make out at some point today so . . . how about we put the heavy conversation on hold, just for now, and I return the favor and make this easy for you?”

Solas’ smile is indulgent, if a bit weary. “That would be fine.”

“Good. Ok.” She leans her chin on one hand. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Like, not just sleeping over and having breakfast, even though we’re obviously really good at that. The whole deal.”

He smirks. “Yes.”

“Only me?”

“Yes.”

Athi claps her hands together. “Good! Excellent response time,” she says, satisfied. Stacks their dishes while she speaks. “Anything else to add?”

“That’s it? That is all you want to know?” A mixture of relief and disappointment is plain on his face.

“Ha! Cute. No, see, I want to hear that elaborate answer of yours, I do. I want to know absolutely every single thought you’ve had about me since day one. Also why you stopped coming to the bar”—she starts counting off on her fingers—“and how long you’ve felt this way, what you and Bull get up to at your secret little club meetings, about a zillion other things . . . But as I said,” and she shrugs, “I have plans.”

“I stopped coming to the bar because I already felt this way. Not”—he gestures between them—“exactly this way, of course, but the first stirrings of it. I had been alone a long time, and it frightened me. Next question.”

“Hold on. Same question. You’ve liked me that long?”

“Yes, though I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, did not notice. If anything, I have been too demonstrative of my feelings this past year. Given the circumstances, that is.”

“Too demonstra— Seriously?” Athi is at a loss. Frozen mid-bewildered-flailing, mouth agape like he’s just grown another pair of eyes right in front of her. “Maybe I, of all people, didn’t notice because we spent all that time together and you never said shit, and then—and then!— you invited me over to ask for dating advice which kind of cancelled out any prior feelings you may have demonstrated. I mean, what the fuck?”

“Ah, that’s right.” Solas sighs heavily. “I suppose we may as well sort this out now.”

“Yeah,” she hisses. “Let’s.” She props one elbow on the counter, rests her chin on her fist. Waits for an explanation.

“Athi,” and he scratches his jaw. “I do not know exactly how you remember that conversation going, but the subject of my inquiry—the woman I mentioned meeting—was you.”

Three beats to process, then: “What!?”

He winces—fair, it was piercing—and he half-hides his face in his hands before continuing. “I was attempting to casually express my interest and it did not occur to me that you’d misunderstood my meaning until recently. At the time, I assumed that you were simply not as interested as I had allowed myself to believe and therefore left before the situation became uncomfortable.”

“Well, I did do that.”

“Then, while I was away, I became convinced that a misunderstanding was possible if not probable, so I resolved to try again once I returned.”

“Oh no . . . ” she trails off and grimaces, and Solas just nods.

Such a mess, and for no fucking reason. They stand there in a dazed silence for a while, looking at anything but each other. Finally, Athi peeks over and Solas has his head hanging low like a puppy shamed for eating from the garbage. It’s so sad and so stupid and she can’t keep from laughing. First a little, then a lot, then he’s laughing right along with her.

“So you’re telling me,” she wheezes out between giggles. “We could have been banging for no less than six months already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She’s swept away by another wave of laughter. When it finally subsides, she’s left with aching cheeks and tears in her eyes.

“Come on,” she says and grabs his hand, squeezes it tight, pulls him toward the stairs.

“What? Where are we going?”

“To make up for lost time.”