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stray-kaz · 2 years ago

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Snow & Ice : a Bucky Barnes x OC FF : Three

Lucie’s father wasn’t present or accounted for at her graduation ceremony, but Bucky and Steve were. They sat in the front row reserved for family members only and stood and clapped, hollering loudly at the sky when she walked across the stage to take her high school diploma. She looked over at them with a chiding expression, but she couldn’t help smiling as she blushed when Bucky winked, his grin stretching from ear to ear. Her hair bounced on her shoulders as she waved to them, the diploma gripped tightly in one hand. Bucky saluted her and he and Steve both watched as she raced to join the rest of her fellow graduates, trying to look cool and failing spectacularly.

Bucky dropped a shoulder to lean down to Steve when he sensed him wanting to speak.

“Why isn’t her dad here?”

Steve glanced up at Bucky when he felt his friend tense all over, his jaw ticking hard. He shook his head, his eyes darkening.

“Because he’s a jackass that doesn’t realise how good he’s got it” he muttered back, his teeth gritted slightly.

Steve sighed quietly.

“Does he even love her?” he asked sadly.

Bucky sighed and dragged a hand down his face.

“How could he not?” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “He’s a horror, Steve, honestly. I have no idea how she wound up with him for a father.”

“Do you know what happened to her mother?”

“She walked out. Years ago. Said she couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Why didn’t she take Lucie with her?”

Bucky shrugged.

“I don’t know” he mumbled, averting his eyes.

He didn’t know for sure, but he thought he had an idea why not.

They sat and watched the rest of the graduation ceremony, then were the first to stand and make their way to the back of the hall where they could pick up their graduate. Lucie reached them and hugged Steve first, kissing him briefly on the cheek, before throwing her arms around Bucky’s neck and squeezing tight. His arms crossed over her back and his gaze met Steve’s over her shoulder; his friend was watching with knowing eyes and a raised eyebrow. Bucky ignored him and lifted one hand to stroke Lucie’s wild red hair down her back, shifting it off her shoulders.

“Well done, Luce” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

In response, she held him tighter, her body pressed to his without an inch between them.

“Hey, Luce, what are you going to do now?” Steve asked, clearing his throat a little awkwardly.

Bucky remembered they were in the middle of a crowded high school hall and set Lucie carefully back onto her feet. She turned to look at Steve, feeling oddly disoriented without Bucky’s arms around her.

“I don’t know” she admitted.

“She doesn’t want the clichéd life of getting married and having babies” Bucky butted in, slinging an arm over her shoulders with a sneaky grin on his face.

Steve arched both eyebrows, turning his head to look at Lucie and catching the surreptitious, uncertain glance she shot up at Bucky. Her eyes said something else.

“Well, you can do whatever it is you want to do” he told her, smiling kindly.

Lucie scrunched her nose up at him, but then smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Steve” she murmured. “But I know I can’t. I’m stuck at home until some eligible bachelor comes along and sweeps me off my feet.”

Bucky lowered his head and dropped a kiss on her temple, lingering a second longer than he needed to.

“It won’t take long, doll” he mumbled against her hair. “They’ll be lining the block. Steve and I will have to beat them off with a stick.”

She looked at him with grateful eyes.

“Do you want to check out of here and get something to eat?” she asked, glancing from one to the other.

Steve nodded and Bucky shrugged.

“I think we can do that” he answered. “My shout, though.”

Lucie started to loudly protest, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Nope! None of that!” he said over the top of her voice. “Newly graduated ladies never pay.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Bucky, you always pay for me” she argued.

He nodded firmly.

“And why ruin a good tradition?” he asked lightly. “Come along.”

He held out his arm and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling but took it anyway, sliding her fingers up his sleeve. Steve fell into place on Bucky’s other side, his mind churning.

The trio walked to the diner they had frequented together as they grew up and Lucie couldn’t help but smile as they walked inside to find it exactly the same as it had been the last time she’d stepped beyond the swing doors. The scuffed black and white checkerboard floor, scratched red vinyl booths and eccentric artwork on every wall.

“I love this place” she sighed, looking around.

Bucky laughed and slipped her diploma from her hand, tucking it folded into his pocket. She looked at him questioningly.

“So it doesn’t get dirty” he explained briefly, nodding to an empty booth. “It’s a piece of paper you’ll want to keep, Luce. Go on, sit down, I’ll order for you.”

She nodded and slid behind the table, leaning forward with her elbows on the hard surface. She looked up with a smile when Steve slid in across from her. Her smile soon disappeared, though, when he pinned her with his stare.

“Are you in love with Bucky?” he asked.

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes flicked sideways to check that the young man in question hadn’t overheard the question. Then she reached over the table between them and smacked Steve’s chest.

“Steve!” she hissed. “No! I’m not! No way am I in love with Bucky! Don’t be ridiculous!”

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“Then why are you so upset?” he asked quietly. “If you didn’t have feelings for him, you wouldn’t be arguing the point.”

Lucie fell back against the booth, feeling deflated and unsure of herself. She could feel her heart thumping hard in her chest, its irregular beat making her feel dizzy.

“No” she murmured, mostly to herself. “I’m not in love with him. He’s my best friend. He’s your best friend; we both love him.”

She glanced up from her lap, beseeching, to find Steve looking right back at her. He shrugged slightly.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be in love with him” he told her, his voice soft.

Lucie stared across the table at him, her eyes wide and her pale face flushed with blood. She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she had the chance to utter any words, Bucky appeared at her side and instructed her to slide along so he could sit down. She shifted over wordlessly, her gaze locked on Steve’s. Bucky caught on and glanced between them, eyebrows arched high. He stretched an arm out along the back of the booth, behind Lucie’s head.

“Well, this is awkward” he announced. “Did something happen while I was ordering?”

Steve cleared his throat and Lucie shook her head quickly, avoiding his eyes.

“No, we’re fine, Buck, honestly” she mumbled. “Nothing to see here.”

He narrowed his eyes, watching her profile just in case she gave something away. But her mouth remained set, her gaze on the table. He sighed, giving up.

“Okay, then” he muttered. “I’ll just sit here in social Siberia with you two until the weather warms up.”

Steve said nothing and Lucie leaned forward to rest her chin on her hand and sighed.

The food arrived ten minutes later and they ate in uncomfortable silence, Bucky and Lucie bumping hands and elbows every time one of them reached for something. And every time, she flinched back and he stared at her like she was committed. Since when did she ever flinch from him?

When they had finished, they stood and filed out of the diner, Lucie’s diploma still sticking out of Bucky’s pocket. They parted ways a few blocks later, Steve turning left and Bucky following Lucie as she turned right. She glanced back at him as he walked a few steps behind her.

“I know my way from here, James” she told him quietly.

He nodded.

“I know you do” he replied.

“Then what are you doing?”

He shrugged lightly.

“I want to make sure you get home safely” he answered.

“Buck.”

He ignored his name and rested his arm across her shoulders, pulling her in. He felt her stiffen and then go suddenly malleable, her body shifting in towards his unsubtly, as if she knew she belonged there. As if he knew she belonged there.

“Will your dad be home?” he asked quietly as they walked along in the direction of her street.

He felt her shrug against him and then the bump of her head against his arm.

“If he was going to be home, don’t you think he would come to my graduation?” she asked him.

Bucky’s sigh stirred her hair as he slowly shook his head.

“I don’t know, doll” he murmured. “I don’t understand that man. I don’t know why he can’t see you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Lucie tilted her head up towards him, her eyes wide.

“Do you really think that, Buck?”

He nodded, a tiny smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“With all my roguish heart, Luce.”

She smiled and pushed him lightly.

“You aren’t a rogue, James Buchanan Barnes” she said fondly. “You are inherently good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, still tilted against him. They moved on in silence, this time comfortable, until they came to a stop outside Lucie’s gate. It was open slightly and she sighed at the sight of it looking so forlorn, the hinges coming away.

“I can fix it” Bucky said, releasing her and stepping away, looking down at her.

“Can you?” she asked, gazing intently back at him.

He nodded.

“Yes.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew her diploma. He handed it back to her with a small smile.

“Congratulations, Lucie. Now get in here.”

With a smile, she allowed him to fold her into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her frame. Her ear to his chest, she thought she detected a slight increase in his heartrate, but dismissed the sensation as unimportant. Stepping out of his arms, she acted on impulse and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll be seeing you?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised.

He nodded firmly.

“Oh, yes” he said. “You’ll be seeing me.”

She smiled again and pushed the gate the rest of the way open, and they both listened to the squeaks of its protesting hinges. She paused on the other side and looked up at him again. Her heart in her throat, she somehow spoke around it.

“Love you, Buck.”

His face softened and his eyes melted into hers.

“Love you, too, doll.”

He watched her turn her back on him and go towards the house she called home. He waited until she was inside before turning and walking away, his hands in his pockets.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #wwii bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes ff #liss writes #snow & ice #1940s bucky

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years ago

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Oh, what’s in a name?

summary: Geralt accidentally calls Jaskier by the wrong name and Jaskier finds out that maybe that's a compliment

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 3k

AO3

warnings: none

„Can you hand me the whetstone, Roach?”

Jaskier, already mid-motion to turn and ready to do what Geralt had asked him to, froze. Slowly, and with the biggest grin he could fit on his lips, he turned back to face Geralt again.

“What did you just say?” He could barely contain the laughter in his voice. Raising an eyebrow, he exchanged a look with Roach – well, he tried to exchange a look with Roach, but as usual, she didn’t cooperate – and let out a tiny snort.

Geralt’s brows furrowed in confusion and he gave a small grunt, before saying, “The whetstone.”

Jaskier blinked, his mouth already half-open to tease Geralt about growing old enough to forget the name of his dearest travel companion, but then he stopped himself. He squinted at Geralt, trying to find any hint on his face that he had even realised that he had called Jaskier by the wrong name, but he found none.

For a moment, he contemplated being offended by being mistaken with a horse, but then Roach trotted over to Geralt and nibbled at his hair, making the witcher look up with the softest smile as he petted her neck.

The sight of Geralt so relaxed and free with his smile, made something warm and fuzzy grow in Jaskier’s chest.

He decided not to say anything. At least for now.

Jaskier’s plans to tease Geralt about the name-thing later failed spectacularly. Not because Jaskier didn’t dare tease Geralt, of course, but because all of his attempts to subtly tease him didn’t work, and Jaskier was too proud of his finesse with words to take a more direct approach to his teasing.

He tried singing songs in which he exchanged Geralt’s name or moniker with something else, which only earned him an amused hum.

“Is calling me the White Wolf not enough anymore?” Geralt asked when Jaskier had finished his little ditty. “I thought you needed one moniker for me for memorability.”

Jaskier huffed and nearly opened his mouth to tell Geralt plainly why he had gone with the wrong moniker, but then he blinked.

“You listened to me while I told you about that?”

Geralt shrugged and turned to tend to Roach. Jaskier was nearly fully convinced that he only did it to have an excuse to avoid eye-contact.

“It’s nice talking to someone who talks back.”

Jaskier snorted. “My friend, I’d say out of the two of us, I’m the one who’s doing most of the talking.”

Geralt didn’t reply, proving Jaskier’s point.

Oh, but Jaskier had been wrong. He didn’t realise just how wrong he had been about Geralt’s penchant for taciturnity, until they had to spend more than a couple of days in town.

Had Jaskier thought Geralt didn’t like talking all that much before, he was now fully taken aback by just how little Geralt actually said. Jaskier would have thought that a town with many people – most of which were even somewhat friendly towards Geralt – would get Geralt to relax, but it only served to make him clam up and become more quiet.

That is, he was quiet, save for when he talked to Jaskier.

In comparison to how he treated everyone else, he was downright chatty with him.

After that discovery, Jaskier made a point of talking more about things that Geralt seemed to like talking about. He let him explain the importance of cleaning his swords so often, lest they rust from his touch. He let him talk for hours on end about how to take care of horses. Once Jaskier got him to open up about his family, Geralt almost didn’t stop talking about his brothers, recounting how he and Eskel had once caught a giant bumblebee or reminiscing about how Lambert had tried to set fire to the instructors’ beds when he had been a trainee.

Watching Geralt talk like that was an experience. Every word that he entrusted with Jaskier made his heart flutter and every small smile Geralt gave him as he talked, took his breath away.

“I think you’d really like them, Roach,” Geralt said to conclude his story about his brothers.

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards, but just like the first time it had happened, Geralt didn’t seem to realise what he had just said.

Jaskier’s grin turned into a soft smile and he leaned a little against Geralt, letting their shoulders touch gently.

“If they are anything like you, I’m sure I’ll like them.”

A couple of weeks later, Jaskier had to admit to himself that he had been wrong once again. He really needed to be careful not to make being wrong into a habit. He had always prided himself in being intelligent – after all, he was a master of the seven liberal arts and years ago, he had made the most intelligent decision of befriending one Geralt of Rivia – and being wrong about things just wasn’t something he liked doing.

But when it came to Geralt, there were always new things to learn, new facets of him to discover. And that wasn’t something Jaskier minded. In fact, every time he learned something new about Geralt – every time Geralt trusted him with new information about himself – Jaskier’s chest felt like it was expanding with that happy little flutter inside.

It was enlightening to learn that Geralt rarely ever cooked with spices, not because they were too expensive, but because his senses were sharp enough to not need much of them.

It was interesting to find out that Geralt liked making up the witcher-code on the spot, whenever someone asked him to do something that he didn’t want to do.

It was endearing finding out that Geralt had named all of his horses Roach.

But it was utterly shocking, when after weeks of having gone their separate ways, Jaskier finally tracked down Geralt to find him talking to Roach.

He froze to his spot and listened enraptured as Geralt spoke to his horse as others did to their friends. As Geralt did to Jaskier.

No. No, that wasn’t it at all. Geralt wasn’t speaking to Roach as he did to Jaskier.

He spoke to Jaskier as he did to Roach.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide at the realisation. How long had Geralt been alone before Jaskier had attached himself to his side, with only Roach as company?

Jaskier thought back to all the times Geralt had looked insecure when speaking with Jaskier when they had first started travelling together, as if he didn’t know how to talk to people. As if he didn’t have much experience doing so outside of negotiating contracts or the winters that he spent with his family.

Thinking of it, Jaskier realised that he probably was the only friend besides Roach that Geralt had.

Jaskier swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and continued walking to Geralt, announcing his presence with a cheerful, “My friend! I missed you!”

Geralt whirled around to him, an unreadable expression on his face, and Jaskier’s chest twisted uncomfortably, unsure if he had maybe been a bit too enthusiastic, but then Geralt’s eyes softened and he gave Jaskier the smallest but most beautiful of smiles.

That evening, as they sat beside the crackling fire and Jaskier plucked a soft melody on his lute as background noise, Geralt talked to him again, telling him with only minimal prompting about the contracts he had completed while Jaskier had been away playing at court.

When the fire died down and Jaskier got too tired to stay awake any longer, Geralt softly nudged him towards his bedroll.

“We can continue this talk tomorrow,” Geralt said, a little hesitantly, as if he still wasn’t entirely sure if his voice was welcome.

“I’d love to.” Jaskier pulled his blanket up to his chin and smiled when Geralt’s shoulders lost the little tension that had taken hold of them with his last words. “Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, Roach.”

Jaskier pulled the blanket a little higher to hide his smile. The last thing he thought, before sleep embraced him, was that it really wasn’t that bad being called by Roach’s name.

Now, Jaskier and Roach had never gotten along too well. He had tried to braid her mane despite Geralt warning him that she didn’t like people touching her and she had tried to bite his fingers off.

Sometimes, when Jaskier got peckish, he stole the apple slices Geralt would buy for Roach. Other times, Roach would swat at Jaskier with her tail as if he was an irritating fly, while he was in the middle of composing a song.

Safe to say, they barely did much more than tolerate each other’s presence for Geralt’s sake.

Now though, with Jaskier’s newfound knowledge about how important the mare was to Geralt, Jaskier saw her in a different light.

Oh, sure, she was still cantankerous and stubborn, but she was also Geralt’s oldest companion and friend on the Path.

So Jaskier made a point of always putting some coin aside to buy her treats whenever they got into town and composing odes to her beauty. He wasn’t sure if Roach appreciated the latter, but there was no doubt she liked the treats he got her.

It didn’t take long, until she allowed him to pet her soft muzzle and shortly after, she started following Jaskier around or approaching him happily when he came back after having split from Geralt for a while.

At first, Geralt watched this new display of affection between them warily, but all too soon, Jaskier caught him smiling when Roach nibbled at Jaskier’s hair or Jaskier went out of his way to brush her down.

One time, while Geralt had thought Jaskier was too deep in thought composing to hear him, he had whispered to Roach how happy he was that the two of them got along.

“Remember when I said you would like my brothers?” Geralt said one morning, completely out of the blue, while watching Jaskier try to catch the falling red leaves from the air.

Distracted, Jaskier missed the leaf just by a hair’s breadth. It landed on his head instead. Seemingly without thinking, Geralt brushed it off Jaskier’s head, lingering just a little too long to be a casual touch.

“Y-yeah,” Jaskier said, his heart jumping to his throat. “Of course I remember you talking about Eskel and Lambert.”

Something lit up in Geralt’s eyes. “You remember their names?”

“Naturally,” Jaskier said softly. “They are important to you.”

Geralt remained quiet for a little while, just staring at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. “They are,” he said finally. Geralt’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. “I was wondering…if maybe you would like to meet them?”

Jaskier’s brows shot up. “Are they near?”

Geralt shook his head and turned away, clearly pretending to check over Roach’s saddle.

“You could meet them if you came with me to Kaer Morhen.”

For once, Jaskier was at a loss of words. He must have stayed silent for so long that Geralt began worrying, for he turned back to him with a frown.

Before he could take his words back, Jaskier surged forward and slung his arms around him.

“I would love to come with you.”

On their way up the mountain, Jaskier needled Geralt with questions about the keep, but Geralt refused to give as much as a hint of what Jaskier had to expect from a winter with the wolves.

Jaskier considered pouting, but the twinkle in Geralt’s eyes made it impossible to even pretend to be mad at him. Not when it was clear that Geralt was going back to his taciturn ways to have the keep be a surprise for Jaskier.

And a surprise it was.

When the walls of Kaer Morhen came into view, towering over them, Jaskier lost all ability to speak. His eyes raked over the massive doors, the towers that stretched high into the sky and every part of the courtyard that he just itched to explore.

A soft noise beside him made him turn towards Geralt again. His breath caught in his throat when he met Geralt’s gaze, soft and holding more fondness than Geralt had ever allowed himself to show Jaskier while they were out there on the continent.

Geralt hadn’t lied when he had said that Jaskier would get along with his family. It didn’t take more than one night of drinking together, for Jaskier to decide that the other wolf witchers were his friends now too.

Eskel showed him his poetry collection and his eyes lit up when Jaskier promised to discuss every poem in it with Eskel.

Vesemir was happy to have someone who listened to him with enthusiasm when he talked about monsters and fighting techniques for once.

Lambert was a little harder to get to warm up to Jaskier, but after Jaskier had beaten Geralt in a round of gwent – granted, he had cheated shamelessly, but a victory was a victory – Lambert had barked out a laugh and ruffled Jaskier’s hair, proclaiming that he should come to Kaer Morhen more often.

It was mid-winter when the inevitable happened again. Jaskier had started to look forward to it, but he hadn’t realised just what it would mean if Geralt slipped up again while at Kaer Morhen.

Lambert, Geralt and Jaskier were just shovelling snow near the stables, when it happened. Well, maybe calling it ‘shovelling snow’ was a bit generous. That certainly was what they were supposed to do, but after Lambert had thrown the snow to the side with enough enthusiasm to –maybe? – accidentally hit Jaskier with it instead, it had turned into a full blown snow fight, in which Jaskier constantly shifted sides from ganging up on Lambert with Geralt and throwing his arms around Geralt in a hug to keep him in place while Lambert put snow down Geralt’s shirt.

“Stop it,” Geralt laughed and wriggled in his grip, enough to be playful, but coming nowhere close to using even half of his full strength. “Let go, or I’ll throw you into a pile of snow, Roach!”

“I’d like to see you try.” Jaskier smirked and tightened his hold. “Lambert, now!”

But Lambert was frozen mid-motion of grabbing more snow. He stared at Geralt with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“Roach?” He asked with a snort. “Did you just call him Roach?”

In Jaskier’s arms, Geralt stiffened. “I-“

He broke off, throwing a quick glance at Jaskier over his shoulder, before looking away again. Yet, it had been enough for Jaskier to see the look that he had come to understand as blind panic on Geralt’s face.

Before Jaskier could ask him what was wrong, Geralt shrugged him off, easily freeing himself from the hold he had so happily endured before.

“Geralt-“

But Geralt didn’t even falter in his steps. He all but fled into the stables.

Jaskier exchanged a quick look with Lambert who shrugged as if he didn’t care, but followed Geralt’s flight with his eyes and a hint of worry in his expression.

Jaskier didn’t hesitate any longer and ran after Geralt.

Geralt must have heard him enter the stables and hid, for when Jaskier’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Jaskier’s steps slowed and he rubbed his fingers together nervously.

“Geralt?” He asked uncertainly. The only reply he got was the huffing from the horses.

Jaskier’s heart sank, but he set his brow in determination. In two strides, he walked over to the box with Roach, who blew a breath of hot air into his face in greeting.

“Hello there, Roach,” Jaskier began, loud enough that there was no mistaking that he fully intended Geralt to hear him, even though he knew it was unnecessary to raise his voice since Geralt would have been able to hear him even if he had whispered. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, my dear lady. Did you know that Geralt sometimes calls me by your name?”

Roach huffed and Jaskier began stroking the white stripe on her face.

“Yes, I know,” he continued, “But I swear he doesn’t mean it as an insult to you. I for one am actually rather flattered. I’ve been called by the wrong name before, and usually it’s something that makes me feel like the other person doesn’t think I’m worth having my name remembered. Or as if they don’t respect me enough to learn it. But it’s different with Geralt.” His voice softened. “If he calls me by the name of someone who means so much to him, then that is the highest honour I can imagine. You have no idea how happy it makes me that he trusts and likes me enough to talk to me like he does to his other most faithful friend. And can I tell you a secret, dear Roach?” He got up on his tiptoes to get closer to her ear as he stage-whispered, “Geralt is really important to me too. And I really want him to know that I mean it when I say that he’s my best friend, whether he calls me by your name or mine.”

Behind him, straw rustled and the tapping of steps announced that Geralt was coming closer. Not only that, but the fact that Jaskier could hear Geralt approach, meant that Geralt put effort into not startling him. Jaskier hid his smile in Roach’s neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Geralt approach slowly, as if he was unsure about every step he took.

Finally, he reached them, standing on Roach’s other side. Jaskier heard him take in a deep breath and he already readied himself to listen to Geralt talk to Roach as he had just done, but then Geralt rounded Roach and came to stand before Jaskier instead.

In his eyes, fear and fondness fought a battle, that fondness won when Jaskier reached out a hand to softly brush it against Geralt’s. With a sigh that expanded Geralt’s entire chest, Geralt intertwined their fingers.

“I-thank you,” Geralt said, looking down at their joined hands. “For understanding. For not being angry at me. I – you are important to me too. More important than anyone outside of Kaer Morhen ever was.” He lifted his head again, giving Jaskier an intense look that sent shivers up his spine. With more meaning, affection and trust than anyone had ever spoken Jaskier’s name with, Geralt said, “You are the most important person to me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes stung and he let out a small choked noise. Without thinking, he tugged Geralt closer and flung his free arm around his shoulders, holding him as tightly as he could and burying his head in Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s hand that wasn’t holding Jaskier’s still, came up to cradle the back of his head and Geralt’s cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice got muffled but the low rumble in Geralt’s chest as he hummed in acknowledgement told Jaskier that he could still understand him. “You’re my most important person too. My Geralt.”

“My Jaskier.”

Over the years, Geralt slipped up less and less. Jaskier would have been almost disappointed, if he didn’t like the way Geralt called him “my Jaskier”, or “my Buttercup” so much.

Well. Jaskier had been wrong before when it came to Geralt and as it turned out, he continued to have this terrible habit, try as he might to get rid of it. Because, when Jaskier had assumed that Geralt didn’t slip up on his and Roach’s names anymore, he had been dead wrong.

The thing was, after years of having Jaskier at his side, of being close to him and loving him with his entire being, Geralt had gotten so used to talking to Jaskier, that one day, while Jaskier was plucking away idly at his lute and Geralt was brushing down Roach, he heard the most curious thing, that made him smile wider than he had ever smiled before.

“There you go,” Geralt said as he brushed down Roach’s flank and she kept turning her head, trying to get to the treats in Geralt’s pockets. “You’ll get the treats if you’re a good horse and stay still for once, Jaskier.”

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt #jaskier #roach #fic #fanfic #witcher #witcher fic #the witcher #my writing #i posted this a while ago on ao3 and completely forgot if I had posted it here as well #fluff

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teetlestansecond · 2 years ago

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30 days of angst and fluff - 04. hobby

raph realizes, one night as he stares up at the ceiling from his bed, that he's never really had a hobby.

At least, not his own hobby. He plays video games with his brothers, skates with his brothers, reads comics with his brothers. But when he's on his own, Raph doesn’t enjoy doing those things as much. They’re not as much fun, and he usually ends up giving up and moving on to something else.

But now, in the middle of the night, Raph can’t help but want to find his own thing. His own hobby.

But... what?

He brings it up to April in the morning, when she swings by to pick up a jacket she’d left the night before. April takes a moment to think about it, tapping her chin.

“I mean,” she hums, “I can’t tell you what to pick, Raph, you’ve gotta figure that part out for yourself. Try some things, see what you like! I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Smiling brightly, she bumps her fist against his shoulder. “you got this!” Raph, watching her leave, does not feel like he’s got this.

“Okay, Raph,” he sighs to himself as he gets up and begins walking. “We can do this. We just have to find something we like. That can’t be too hard, right?” He stops in the middle of the room, hands settled on his waist. “Right?”

The silence that answers isn’t exactly comforting.

His first stop is Vibe City - or, Leo’s room, but he’s been calling it by the ridiculous title for years now. Really, Raph likes the room. It’s a cozy space that just fits his brother, filled with unique trinkets, stolen neon signs, and plants that had been wrongfully thrown out by their first owners, only to be scooped up and adopted by the slider. They were healthy now, bright with vibrant colors in their various locations around the room. Leo looks pretty proud of them where he sits at his desk. Raph frowns as he leans against a nearby wall.

“How did you know you liked taking care of plants?” he asks. Leo shrugs, leaning back in his seat.

“Huh. I dunno, really. I just saw one while I was dumpster diving with Donnie,” he answered. “She looked pretty dead, but there was still some green on her so I brought her home and asked April for a few flower books. And now, Amy lives happily ever after over there.” Leo gestures to the aloe pot on the shelf over his bed. “People throw away plants all the time, and more often than not they’re not actually dead. Which works out for me, I don’t have to find a plant shop to borrow from.” Raph’s brow furrowed.

“Wouldn’t it just be stealing if you took them from a plant shop?” Leo shrugs.

“Steal, borrow, potato, potato. It’s the same!” It’s not, but Raph lets it go.

“Whatever. That doesn’t answer my question,” he points out. Leo considers it for a moment before speaking up again.

“It just felt good,” he finally goes with. “When I realized I could save Amy, it felt like a challenge, but when it actually worked? It just felt good. And so I keep doing it.”

A challenge, Raph thinks. He can find one of those.

He starts by borrowing an old computer from Donnie’s lab to fiddle with, but the inner workings confuse him and he ends up punching the whole thing and having to apologize to the softshell.

Then he borrows a canvas from Mikey and tries painting. It doesn’t look right, he doesn’t like the look of it, and quickly gives up on it.

Baking comes next, and Leo ends up running in with the fire extinguisher after the smoke starts spilling out into the rest of the lair. Raph later realizes that he’d accidentally added two cups of salt to the burnt cake, so it’s for the best that it’s been rendered inedible.

It’s a frustrating string of weeks for Raph, a seemingly never-ending cycle of trying something new only for it to backfire spectacularly. And if Raph’s being honest, it’s weighing on him. It’s starting to feel like he’ll never find his thing. But then it strikes him, while he’s watching a Lou Jitsu movie with Splinter. The rat’s busy mending one of his robes and it just strikes Raph.

Knitting.

He leaps up, promising Splinter he’ll be back later before hightailing it to April’s house. She had a knitting phase a few years back, and he’s thrilled to find when he gets there that she’s still got the needles, and is happy to give them away after showing him the basics. And Raph takes to it like a fish in water.

By the end of two weeks, he has scarves for everyone. He make his first hat a week after that. But things really get going when he figures out how to make sweaters for stuffed animals.

His brothers all like to complain about the itchy sweaters they keep getting gifted every month, but when winter rolls around and they start walking around the lair in their sweaters, Raph can’t help the smug smile that comes to his face.

#yes it's past midnight again but i got way distracted #i don't write nearly enough raph-centric things tbh #zennie writes sometimes #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rottmnt #also i dedicate this one to the nonnie that said i should do this first i'm blowing u a kiss bb

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 10-12

Masterlist

Time for a Freaky Friday situation, an Isekai situation, and a fun family trip! And what’s a fun family trip without helping your uncle who is trapped in an attic and trying to raise a cat with your half-brother/uncle/whatever whose in your father’s body? Dear Grandfather God… get MC some help-

Let’s pick up where we left off last time with MC and Belphie >:)

“No need to be nervous, I won’t bite.” Belphie tapped his knuckles against the door he was leaning on to emphasize his point. “And I can’t on account of the magic door.”

“Why…” MC began before straightening their posture and clearing their throat. “What are you doing up here? I was told you were in the human world.”

“As you can see,” Belphie sighed. “I’m not. I’ve been stuck in the attic since before you got here.”

“But why?”

“Lucifer.”

MC narrowed their eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He locked me up here, rude, right?” Belphie’s carefree tone heavily contrasted how tense his shoulders were as he leaned oh-too casually on the doorframe. “To cut right to the chase, I need your help.”

“My… help..?”

“Yep. I need you to get me out of here.” Upon seeing MC’s scandalized expression, he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Calm down, I’ll explain.”

Belphie began his explanation. “So, Lucifer and I got into a little brotherly spat that got blown out of proportion, it was really all a misunderstanding. I want to be able to have a civil conversation with Lucifer that isn’t marred by my… prison.”

“Mammon told me that you opposed the exchange program, and that’s why you got sent to the human world.” MC said quietly. Ugh, they almost cursed themselves out then and there for all the muttering they were doing. They weren’t some guilty child!

Belphie had a look on his face that MC had seen on the five other brothers. The look that always preceded one of the brothers calling Mammon a scumbag, a moron, an idiot, or something equally nasty. The look quickly disappeared as Belphie gave MC a halfhearted shrug.

“I was, yes. But I couldn’t care less about that now.” Belphie waved his hand in the air like he was waving off the whole issue. “It was my bad, really. I was being unreasonable, and I got pissed.”

“What exactly do you need me to do to get you out of there?” MC asked, clenching and unclenching their fist to get the tension out.

“I need you to undo the spell holding the door shut. If you were anyone else, I’d be asking you to make pacts with my brothers in order to override Lucifer’s spell and open the door,” Belphie’s eyes flashed again. “But you… you can just use some of your magic, can’t you? I assume Lucifer passed some of his power down to you?”

MC stiffened and took a step back from the door. “How did you-”

“MC, I’ve lived with Lucifer for over five thousand years, I know his magical signature as well as I know my own, and yours is too damn close to his to be a wild coincidence. And,” Belphie gestured at MC. “You look and act like a mini him. It’s cute, honestly.”

MC frowned, cute?! MC wasn’t cute! But that was a… decent explanation..?

“So,” Belphie took a step back from the door. “Put your hand on the door, and try to open it. You might feel some magical resistance but if your magic is similar enough to Lucifer’s you might be able to open it without any difficulty at all.”

MC reached out, then hesitated. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

“MC, you’re my brother’s kid. I don’t want this dumb fight between me and Lucifer to break my family apart. Besides, it’ll be nice to have you as a part of the family too. I don’t want to sully that by being stuck up here.”

Part of the family? MC’s eyes practically sparkled. A real part of their new family… they looked up at Belphegor and nodded.

“Okay, here I go…” MC tentatively placed their hand on the door.

It began to burn at an intensity that nearly made MC scream and collapse on the spot. Their hand was glued to the door as the door’s spell seemed to crawl its way up their arm. MC countered with the biggest burst of their own magic they could possibly muster.

The blast of bright blue that slammed into the door made it creak back and forth slightly, but the spell held its ground.

MC snatched their hand back and stared expectantly at the door. They swayed on their feet slightly as they looked up at Belphegor, who tapped the door. When blue sparks met his hand, he frowned.

“It didn’t… it didn’t work… I’m…” MC paused before they apologized, they didn’t have to. They tried their best, didn’t they? They just needed to get a better hold of their magic. “I’ll get stronger, I’ll get better at magic and then I’ll come back and open the door.”

Belphie sighed in relief and smiled at MC. “Thank you, MC. You’re really helping me out here, you’re sweet.” Belphie then crouched ever so slightly to get to MC’s level, and smirked conspiratorially. “You know, all powerful demons need snacks to recharge their magic, right? Mammon has a massive stash of candy that he thinks is secret hidden in one of the potted plants in the planetarium. You didn’t hear this from me though.”

They gave Belphegor a small smile. “I’ll get you out soon, okay?”

“I trust that you will.”

———

Disgusting.

That was the one thought that permeated through Belphegor’s mind when he first saw MC.

The thought remained throughout the entire first encounter, and the feeling of roiling nausea only grew when MC’s attempt to break Lucifer’s spell failed spectacularly. Belphie tried as best as he could to follow MC’s retreating form down the attic hallway, but his vision was limited.

A half demon. Truly Lucifer had fallen from whatever grace he still had left from a time where his youngest brother actually respected him.

A half human child. Did Lucifer truly have no self respect? A proud high ranking demon, the second strongest in the entire Devildom, in fact, had a half human child.

How monumentally stupid.

Belphegor was no stranger to half-demons, he had been alive far too long to have never come across one. A few hundred years ago they were much more common, running around the human world wreaking havoc and scurrying around the Devildom like scared mice. The duality always made Belphie smile. They may have been beings of pure terror in the human world, but their demon half could never compare to real demons in the Devildom.

Asmodeus held the unofficial record for most half demon children, obviously. As much as Belphegor absolutely detested humans, he couldn’t exactly fault his older brother. Asmo was the Avatar of Lust after all, and the Avatar of Sloth of all people couldn’t judge him for indulging in his sin every once and a while.

Hell, even Satan and Mammon occasionally had children pop up in the human world. The difference, the thing that made all the difference was that they never brought their… spawn home. They never brought their half-human little monsters into his home.

What gave Lucifer the right to do so? The right to bring that into Belphegor’s home? One of the beings responsible for the death of their sister. His sister. Did he not care about that at all?!

Belphegor collapsed onto the bed in the attic, ruffling his hair and shutting his eyes.

The brat couldn’t even break the door.

The thought almost caused Belphegor to laugh. The little brat couldn’t even break the door.

He cracked up, muffling his laughter with his hand. The child was Lucifer’s and they couldn’t even fully break the door. My my, how the mighty have fallen. It had taken over three months for Belphegor to even get close to being able to get into that little brat’s head to call them up to him, and they couldn’t even break the door?

Belphie’s borderline hysterical laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation stopped abruptly as he looked around the room. Something-

Someone was glaring at him.

His eyes instinctively darted to the door, the most logical conclusion was that the brat had snitched and Lucifer was at the door. But the hallway was empty. The feeling of being watched made him shudder, then stiffen. He tilted his head and sat in silence. No sound, just the familiar smell of…

The Celestial Realm.

Belphie dragged a hand down his face and growled, lying back down and clamping his eyes shut. He needed to sleep.

So, that was the first problem MC had to face that month, the second was the fact that Satan snuck a cat into the house and he and MC were co-parenting it in secret. The third problem was Satan was still acting like a massive dickwad. All this fighting wasn’t good for baby Detective Toe Beans!

After receiving the “Lucifer got so mad he gave birth” talk from the other brothers, MC could have had their own rage-baby then and there.

I have never regretted typing a sentence more, but anyway, MC was on a warpath to find Satan.

‘Calm down,’ MC thought to themselves as they walked down the hallway of the HOL. ‘Don’t overreact, maybe this is all some big misunderstanding.’

The demon they were hoping to find was walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. Satan gave MC a half nod and barely acknowledged them.

“Hi Satan!” MC chirped, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

After being so coldly snubbed, MC stood in the hallway completely motionless, until of course the little voice crawled its way up their spine and nestled in the base of their skull.

‘Who does he think he is?’

MC squared their shoulders and started after Satan, resolute in their totally non-suicidal goal of chastising him for his behaviour.

“Satan!” MC threw his door open and crossed their arms, the room was a complete mess of books and loose papers as usual, the Avatar of Wrath himself was sitting on his bed with his nose in a book. “We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” Satan drawled, not looking up from his book. That stupid encyclopedia must’ve been the most interesting thing in the god damn universe for Satan not to look up and see MC seething with a kind of pure rage only preteens we’re capable of. “Walking into people’s rooms without knocking is rude, you know. Let’s talk about that.”

“Honestly can you not be a smartass for a few seconds and just fucking look at me?!”

The sudden cursing got Satan to raise an eyebrow and look up. “What do you want, MC?”

“I want to know what the hell your problem with me is.” MC said, attempting to keep their voice as level and calm as possible. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you since I got here, and you’ve been nothing but a massive jerk!”

“Did you ever stop to think that I just don’t like you?”

“For what reason? What did I do?!”

“You look exactly like him!” Satan finally snapped. “Another Lucifer prancing around the house like they run the place!”

“So to you I’m just another Lucifer..?” MC asked, then let out a humourless laugh. “Are you… are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re pegging me as another Lucifer? You?”

Satan bristled, his eyes began to flash green, MC’s own eyes had begun to show a slight blue tint. “What are you implying?”

“I’m ‘implying’ that you, Satan, the one who was born of Lucifer’s wrath, calling me a copy of Lucifer is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing.” MC snarled, almost every fibre of their mind was screaming to transform and teach Satan a lesson, but they held back. “You hate Lucifer, anyone with two brain cells can see that, but you don’t see how stupid you’re being?!”

In an instant Satan yanked MC up by the front of their shirt and let out a low growl. “Do you want to repeat that, half-breed?”

“You’re being an idiot.” MC’s bratty, teasing tone couldn’t fully hide the boiling anger that was just beneath the surface. “You think you have the right to demand that people see you as different from Lucifer, yet you don’t grant me the same courtesy.”

With that, Satan’s demon form was out and less than a second later so was MC’s. The half-demon’s foot shot out and hit Satan right in the knee, the Avatar of Wrath staggered backwards slightly which allowed MC to back away until they felt their back hit a pile of books.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, daring the other to make a move, when the door to Satan’s room slammed open. There stood enemy number one, Lucifer.

“What the hell are both of you doing?” Lucifer hissed, his eyes flicking between Satan and MC.

“STAY OUT OF THIS!”

With Satan and MC’s combined shout, books began to shoot off the shelves and off the tops of piles. The books whizzed around the room, crashing into things and making the room even more of a mess.

“Both of you calm down!” Lucifer growled, both Satan and MC turned to shout at him again.

“JUST SHUT UP!”

Quick as lightning, a book shot towards MC, time seemed to slow as the spine of the book brushed past their nose as they stumbled out of its way. MC was out of the book’s path, but now it was speeding directly towards Lucifer.

Satan, most likely desiring to protect his book from Lucifer-germs, dove forward to grab the book while Lucifer prepared to catch it with an outstretched hand. The moment the two touched the book a blinding flash of light engulfed the entire room, leaving everything completely still.

Huh, well that happened. Argument paused, gather everyone.

Satan and Lucifer switched bodies… coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool-

Wait why are they staying in MC’s room?!

Lucifer (in Satan’s body) pulled the “you live under my roof you follow my rules” card, and MC got to work ordering a tent on Akuzon. Their tent, their rules.

“Satan! We have a bit of a problem with you agreeing to stay in my room with Lucifer!” “And what’s that problem, MC?” “Uh, I don’t know, THE DETECTIVE.”

Satan completely forgot that they were hiding a cat from Lucifer. Whoops!

When Lucifer stomped out of MC’s room later that day holding the cat the two knew they were screwed.

MC and Satan had to compromise their dignity and beg Lucifer to not take away their poor kitty. Lucifer just grumbled that he’d deal with this when he got back into his own body.

Body switching shenanigans were abound, Mammon and Satan were working together to make Lucifer look as ridiculous as possible without breaking any of the ground rules everyone laid out.

This all culminated in getting Mammon hung from the ceiling.

That night, MC tried to ignore Satan and Lucifer’s sleep talking, but it was a fruitless endeavour.

The only good part of that arrangement was the fact that Bean refused to snuggle up to Satan while he was in Lucifer’s body, and Lucifer didn’t want the cat near him while in Satan’s body, so MC got all the snuggle time with their favourite kitty.

While Bean’s intense purring was adorable, it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Lucifer and Satan’s rampant sleep talking.

“Fuck you Lucifer…” Satan in Lucifer’s body mumbled. “Gonna fuckin rip your head off…”

“Diavolo you can’t just get me another dog…” Lucifer in Satan’s body grumbled before letting out a snore.

MC rolled their eyes and looked at their cat. “Can you believe this shit, Bean?” They whispered.

Bean responded by pawing at MC’s face. What a big baby with such cute widdle eyes omigoodness what a baby baby-

Having enough of that tomfoolery, MC gently placed Bean down on their bed, and tiptoed out. They ended up doubling back to their room and grabbing one of their books.

Sneaking up to the attic a second time was much easier than the first attempt. It had been a week since their first encounter with Belphie and MC thought that he might want an update.

“So yeah… that’s what’s happening right now.”

Belphie appeared to be suppressing a laugh as he nodded and cleared his throat. “Mm… that’s… very unfortunate.”

“It’s not that funny.”

MC and Belphie stared at each other for a few seconds, before both of them broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Okay,” MC relented. “It’s kind of funny…”

“So, any updates on the plan?” Belphie asked, MC responded with a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, almost everyone has welcomed me in with pretty open arms, so I don’t think they’d question it if I asked them to come up here and get you out.”

“Almost everyone?” Belphie tilted his head as he leaned on the wall next to the door.

“Yeah… um…” MC quickly looked away and pursed their lips. “Satan… you know?”

“Ah,” Belphie’s usual lazy smile reappeared. “Satan’s going to be a tough one to win over. You know why, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Lucifer told you?”

“No actually,” MC mumbled. “Mammon, Beel, Levi, and Asmo did.”

Belphie’s eyes flashed for a brief moment, like MC had just offered him a present, but it was so quick MC barely took notice.

“I’m guessing he must be keeping a lot of stuff from you, huh?”

MC crossed their arms and shrugged. “Kinda… I guess. He kept you being in the attic a secret, he’s keeping the reason the Grimoire is in the Underground Tomb a secret…” MC frowned as all the strange little secrets began to come to light. Their father’s practically fanatical loyalty to Diavolo, the reason for the Celestial War, the reason no one talked about Lilith…

“Hm,” Belphie sighed. “It sucks that Lucifer doesn’t really tell you anything.”

“Mhm…” MC looked down at their feet, until they remembered the other reason they went up to visit the attic. “Oh! I brought you something!”

They held out the book to Belphie, carefully sliding it between the gaps in the door. “It’s a manga Levi recommended to me, I read it and it’s awesome! I thought you might be bored up here, so I brought it up for you to read.”

When Belphie took the book he stared at it like it was a completely foreign object, then his features melted into a smile. “Thank you, MC.”

“Right!” MC smiled proudly. “I’ll work on my magic, and on my relationship with Satan, then I’ll bust you out of here!”

Belphie chuckled and gave a thumbs up. “Good luck, kiddo. I believe in you.”

The seeds of discord were planted and the local attic cowboy was being one hell of a gardener. I need to stop typing take my phone away from me.

When MC left the attic, the first thing they heard was Mammon crying in the stairwell. It seemed that even the HOL’s ghosts were annoyed with all his whining.

“MC… help meeeeee…” “You’re hanging there for a reason, Mammon. I’m not going to disturb your punishment.” “MCCCCCCCCC!”

Don’t worry, MC did some sick maneuvers and cut Mammon down! Hooray!

“You now owe me a life debt.” “Wait what-” “We’re fixing my and Lucifer’s relationship with Satan.” “…kid if you smoked the weed in my room just tell me, I won’t be mad.”

No dear uncle Mammon, MC was not high on the devil’s lettuce, they were high on the power of family!

Time to fire up Doji Magi!

Obviously MC wasn’t the protagonist, everyone was trying to woo this random generic anime character (tm)

It wasn’t going good for anyone other than Levi. MC wasn’t even allowed to properly participate because Lucifer didn’t approve of his child getting involved in this degenerate anime stuff.

Too late Luci-goosey, your kid was a weeb long before they came to the Devildom

Of course, come graduation day, things got much more fun.

“THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!” MC screamed with delight as they swung a folding chair at an oncoming monster.

Mammon was having decidedly less fun as he dealt with his share of the monsters that had suddenly spawned into the game. “MC what the hell are ya talkin’ about?! This is crazy!”

“Can both of you shut up?” Lucifer said as he calmly snapped a monster’s neck. “Get to the roof, all of you.”

“This was very well foreshadowed I’m very impressed.” Satan said, Levi nodded enthusiastically.

“I know! All those hidden lore bits were so fun to find.”

“Wait, lore?” Mammon asked, he turned to MC. “What’d we miss while we were in fake detention?”

As the group continued to make their way up the steps to the roof, downing monsters left and right, MC turned to Satan and laughed. “You’re absolutely drenched right now.”

Satan smirked and flicked some of the monster goop onto MC. “You don’t look any better.”

“Ew!” MC stuck out their tongue and leaned to the left, looking behind Satan. “There’s a monster behind you by the way.”

“Ah,” Satan turned and punched the monster so hard in the forehead that its skull caved in. “Thank you, MC.”

The rooftop was filled with significantly less monsters than the rest of the school, and it uh… oh… hm… gamer instincts were tingling.

“Hey, this is a lot of negative space…” Levi picked a medpack up off the floor. “And an odd collection of healing items…”

“Where’d all the enemies go..?” Mammon asked tentatively.

“Better question,” MC piped up. “Where’s the music?”

Right after those words left MC’s lips, the door to the rooftop burst open, revealing a very familiar three headed doggo that MC and Lucifer so adored. It was Cerberus! Who looked positively murderous!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Mammon shrieked and hid behind Levi.

“Oh… that’s what all the dog imagery meant.” Satan said. “I thought it was odd that all the books in this school’s library had something to do with dogs.”

“Yeah! Aw, it all makes sense now!” Levi exclaimed.

“Cerberus,” Lucifer stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Sit.”

Cerberus, did not in fact, sit. He instead growled like a monster truck, and the acidic looking drool that was falling from his gaping jaws was an indicator that the giant pupper was quite hungry.

“Uh… bad dog?” MC offered. With that, Cerberus charged forward.

Mammon, Levi, and MC dodged to the left while Lucifer and Satan dove to the right.

“Shit! How are we supposed to fight Cerberus!?” Levi squeaked.

“Maybe we can- SATAN WATCH OUT!”

Cerberus had decided to ignore Lucifer and rush straight towards the fourth born, whose weapon of choice had just decided to break, and MC had a sneaking suspicion that Satan wouldn’t be able to punch all three of Cerberus’ heads at once.

“CERBERUS!” Lucifer shouted, causing everyone to freeze in place. “YOU LAY A HAND ON MY BROTHER AND I WILL [Hello, this is the narrator, Lucifer has asked that I censor what he said because he doesn’t want this to end up reflecting badly on Diavolo].”

It was thirty seconds into the very vulgar threat before Levi thought it would be a good idea to cover MC’s ears. Game-Cerberus whimpered and sat down, much to the utter amazement of everyone.

“Wow, I can curse in Latin now!” MC chirped.

“MC, you will forget what you heard.” Lucifer sighed.

“Of course, father!” MC said sweetly, they then leaned over to Levi. “Noooooot.”

Yay, the fam’s out of the game! L!MC and Satan both agreed that Cerberus would never in a thousand years listen to either of them and they should just depend on Lucifer to deal with their homicidal pupper.

Good news, in the days after the game, glasses related thefts went down 100%! Also, pranks relating to Lucifer’s coffee being turned into vinegar went down 83%!

Satan was chilling out :D… but Lucifer still had a speech to give and he was not about to trust the guy who filled the house with cats once.

It was time for a visit to the human world to go find a witch!

“Come on! I wanna see the horsies!” Mammon whined, hanging off of Lucifer in Satan’s body like a petulant little kid. The actual kid rolled their eyes and snorted.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, Mammon.” Lucifer said. “You want to see the horses so you can find the one you’re going to bet all our money on.”

“Of course I wanna see the horse I’m gonna bet on!So can we gooooooo?!”

Satan in Lucifer’s body finished off the last of his gelato and scoffed. “No, we’re not going to bet the house on the ponies, Mammon. We’re going to spend it on-”

The high pitched shriek that left MC caused everyone to whirl in their direction as the half demon jumped up and down and frantically pointed at a sign. They were clearly trying to sputter out some kind of explanation of what had them so excited, but no one could understand a word.

“MC, calm down-”

“It’s the musical!”

“What-”

“I’ve watched so many analysis videos on this! Father! Father! The music in this is supposed to be insane! I wanna see! I wanna see! You gotta let me see!” Every single word was punctuated by MC jumping up and down to the point that Lucifer was actually concerned their wings might pop out and they’d take flight.

Right in the middle of one of their jumps, Satan caught them and held them up in front of Lucifer. “Oh dearest brother of mine, your poor spawn wants to see the show- hang on it’s this one?” Satan did a double take at the sign for the show. “Now I actually want to see this.”

Lucifer finally shoved Mammon off of him and got a good look at the sign, at least two out of the three people he was travelling with had taste. “Yes, we can watch the show.”

“Yay!” MC clapped their hands, then noticed their feet weren’t touching the floor and turned to look at Satan. “Uh, Satan, you know you can put me down, right?”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Satan said as the group began their walk towards the theatre. “It’s fun having you up as a half-human meat shield.”

“Hey!”

A distinct interest of MC’s had been discovered by the rest of the group that day when they started rambling and explaining the intricacies of musical theatre and opera to a very confused Mammon. Lucifer and Satan exchanged amused glances as MC continued to rapidly explain increasingly more confusing parts of music.

“So that’s the main difference between recitative and an aria,”

“Uh huh…”

“So technically Hugh Jackman is wrong in his explanation that Val Jean’s soliloquy in the movie adaptation of Les Miserables is recitative because it’s more of an aria because Val Jean is basically screaming about his emotions.”

“Hugh Jackman? Wolverine?”

“Yeah, Wolverine. Anyway back to leitmotifs-”

MC’s animated explanation continued all the way until the four were sat down in their seats and the show began. Mammon, of course, started fully weeping whenever anything sad happened. It was intermission when Lucifer and Satan finally had enough of it.

“Mammon…” Satan rubbed his temples and glared at the sobbing second born. “I swear, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to strangle you…”

“Do it like the Phantom of the Opera.” MC offered.

“What?” Satan asked.

“Lasso noose.”

Mammon loudly blew his nose and shoved popcorn a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Musical theatre is so fuckin’ weird…”

MC 🤝(being a musical theatre nerd) 🤝 Lucifer

So after the play, they hopped on the train and MC and Mammon stuck their heads out the window to baa at some nearby sheep. The sheep responded, Mammon and MC can speak sheep confirmed.

Of course, Mammon went off and got involved in the murder of the very witch they were trying to find.

“Only one version of events is ever true!” Satan proclaimed to the three unfortunate bastards that were also involved with the crime.

Lucifer looked from the dead body that was covered in a tablecloth, to MC. He made an awkward attempt to cover their eyes, but even he seemed confused by the action.

“Father, it’s fine.” MC lightly moved their father’s hand away and pulled something out of their brand new bag. “Satan, here!”

MC held up a Sherlock Holmes cap. “It’ll make you look more like a detective.”

“Thank you, MC.” Satan put the cap on and turned back to the crime scene in front of him. “I’m going to solve the shit out of this.”

Hearing those words come out of Lucifer’s mouth even knowing that it was Satan saying them made Mammon forget he was being accused of murder and laugh like a maniac. This did not help MC and Satan’s “Mammon’s not crazy” case.

MC and Levi had spent a week playing Danganronpa nonstop, MC was ready for this!

After clearing Mammon’s name, the ghost of the witch showed up and told the gang to solve her murder and she’d undo the body switch curse.

“The killer is, YOU!” MC and Satan pointed at the culprit with flourish.

“You have no proof!”

“I’m afraid we do in fact have proof.” Satan smirked triumphantly. “The other two suspects were too far away or standing up,”

“And the knife entered the body at a downward angle,” MC continued. “The only person close enough to stab the victim like that is you.”

“So suspect number 3,” The two said together. “You’re the dumbass who did it!”

“Did they rehearse this?” Mammon leaned over to ask Lucifer.

“No idea.”

Yay! Murder solved! Time for the life lesson!

“If only I had trusted him to be my apprentice…” “oh wow what a convenient life lesson, right father? Right Satan? Trust?”

“…” “…”

Satan and Lucifer got poofed back to normal and everyone got to go home. Lucifer, like in canon, lets Satan give the speech because he learned that he needs to trust his brother more and have a little bit of faith.

The speech is a success, and life returns to normal, but better. Satan and MC build up their relationship and after a few weeks, it was like the stuff from the beginning of the year never happened.

The attic was Belphegor’s favourite nap spot, though at the moment, Belphie didn’t want to sleep in the attic. He had been stuck up there for the past four months, and the only form of social interaction he had was sporadic chats with Lucifer or the half-human.

He must have been going completely mental up there because he was actually wishing he was talking to the kid, at least the brat was nice to him…

“Belphie!”

The cheery voice of the little “angel” echoed down the hall, Belphie found himself smiling at the sound, at least before he realized what he was doing. MC appeared at the door, practically bouncing on their toes.

“Belphie Belphie Belphie!” MC waved their DDD in the air.

“MC MC MC.” Belphie repeated. He leaned against the wall next to the door and yawned. “Nice to see you again, any updates?”

MC flicked through their DDD and gave Belphie a thumbs up. “I’ve been practicing my magic and stuff, but that’s not what I’m up here for.” They held up their DDD to show Belphie a picture.

“Beel’s team won their game-thing!”

The picture showed Beel in his team uniform eating an entire pie with a medal around his neck, the rest of the brothers and MC were posed for the picture around him. “I have no clue how this sport is supposed to work or what the rules are, but apparently he won, so that’s good!”

Any traces of Belphie’s half decent mood vanished as he looked at the picture. Everyone seemed… really happy. Levi, Asmo, Satan, Mammon, Beel, all of them, looked happy. Happy without him…

“That’s… great, MC.”

—————

Belphegor truly didn’t think he’d pity the human he vowed to kill. MC was literally a mixture of everything he hated, humans, Lucifer, Diavolo’s stupid exchange program… but yet, Belphegor felt pity.

The way MC lit up when they talked about the fun things they had done with the brothers and the other exchange students, how they went up to the attic to keep him company when they had a spare bit of time… they did all of that without knowing that Belphegor despised them. It was honestly pitiful.

Though, the Avatar of Sloth’s feeling of detest had somehow lessened. The little half demon had managed to get their hooks in him. Unfortunately for them, it only made Belphegor’s blood boil more. His brothers adored that little brat, it was plain to see. The half human had won them all over, like half of MC’s ancestry wasn’t responsible for the death of their little sister.

Belphegor narrowed his eyes as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had been stuck up there long enough to have counted every knot in the wood, every nail and plank, and every spider that managed to crawl through the cracks. The familiar feeling of guilt began to twist in his stomach. His sister died because Beel chose to save him. He should have been more careful… he shouldn’t have taken her to the human world…

‘It’s their fault.’ Belphie tried to push any and all thoughts other than that out of his head. ‘That human killed her. If they had never met she wouldn’t have died.’

Repeating that over and over did not expel the roiling feeling of guilt that crawled its way up Belphie’s spine and constricted his ribs.

“I hate you…” Belphie growled. MC was the reason for all this, weren’t they? They were the reason he wasn’t with his family, they were the reason they could be happy without him, yet even repeating his declaration of hatred like a mantra didn’t make the guilt go away. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!”

A sudden sharp yank on Belphie’s ear made him lurch upwards and look around the room. Nothing.

It was a childish gesture, wasn’t it? A sharp pull to his ear, a habit he knew all too well belonged to…

It belonged to…

…

Belphegor needed to sleep.

———————

Sup my witches, bitches, and bastards, we’re reaching the exciting part :D the part you angst hungry sickos (affectionate) are waiting for! ✨ lesson 16 ✨ next time, we’re doing the buildup, then after that, ANGST COUNTRY BABY!

Reblogs are very appreciated!

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Satan #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me MC #obey me! headcanons #obey me! lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! satan #obey me! belphegor #obey me! leviathan #Obey me Fic

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bridgetserdocksketches · 3 years ago

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We're suffering tonight, boys

Lena isn’t avoiding Kara, okay? She’s just very busy. That’s all. What with being the CEO of her own company, running her own experiments, and this new little passion project she has a lot going on. Her absence in Kara’s life these past few days has absolutely nothing to do with the black eye she’s currently sporting. Don’t be ridiculous.

Though, in hindsight, she really should’ve known she’d only be able to bail on lunch with Kara so many times before she came knocking.

Lena’s knee deep in some complex coding, trying to figure out what went wrong with this last test and fix it, when she gets the call. She barely even looks at her phone screen before answering. Not that she needs to.

“Kara, hi,” she says warmly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Well, shit. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Are you sick? You know if you’re sick you can just tell me, right?”

“Yes, I-- no, Kara. I’m not sick.”

Lena can practically see the pinch in her brow. The confusion painted all over her face as she tries to puzzle out what’s going on with Lena.

“Okay, well you skipped lunch three times this week. Is everything alright?” Kara asks.

“Yes, everything’s perfectly fine. I’ve just been busy,” Lena assures her.

“So you’re not avoiding me?”

Lena breathes out a sigh that borders on a laugh. “No.”

“Alright, then can you come let me in?”

Before Lena can even ask where she is or what she means (as if she doesn’t already know), there’s a knocking at the door. Not the front door, of course. No, that would be far too mundane. It’s at the back door. The balcony door. The one that Lena always leaves unlocked, but Kara refuses to open without being welcomed in.

Her immediate reaction is to get up and open the door for Kara. But then Kara would see the black eye that much sooner. And if she can stall for even a few seconds longer, she will. So instead, she simply turns over her shoulder (careful to keep her left eye obscured) and calls out to Kara.

“It’s open.”

Still wearing the Supergirl suit and wielding a takeout bag, Kara strides into Lena’s apartment with a little spring in her step. Because as far as she’s concerned, Lena hasn’t been avoiding her. Lena isn’t hiding a few secrets from her and has nothing out of the ordinary going on. She’s just a little extra busy with that passion project she has outright refused to share any information about with anyone. There is absolutely nothing for her - or Lena, for that matter - to worry about.

“I figured you didn’t eat anything since you skipped lunch, again,” Kara drawls, the barest hint of disappointment in her words. “So I brought you dinner.” She walks around to get in front of Lena, finally, and plops the greasy bag of Big Belly Burger down on the counter. “Voila!”

There’s a five second gap after the delectable diabetic nightmare is presented before Lena. Five charged seconds where Lena simply waits for Kara to finally notice. At first, she’s a little too proud of herself. A grin so broad and brilliant and downright beautiful it could be considered blinding spread across her face. But then those blue eyes of hers track a little to the left and they go wide. Her mouth falls open. Her brow pinches. And several emotions flicker over her visage all at once.

Her lips work around a few words, spluttering on air briefly, before she finally settles on “Lena!”

And Lena can’t help herself. “Kara?”

Kara blinks. “What-- When-- Who did this to you?”

Lena exhales deeply and leans back in her chair. “No one did this to me.”

Kara’s around on Lena’s side of the counter in the space of a heartbeat. Her hands cradling Lena’s face like it’ll break under the slightest amount of pressure as she examines her.

“What happened?” She demands.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Lena insists.

It’s almost believable, too. But then Kara’s thumb chances a little too close to her left eye. With a hiss of pain, Lena flinches from her hand. Kara’s brow furrows further and her frown deepens.

“Lena--”

“I’m fine, Kara. Really,” Lena says. She takes both of Kara’s hands in her own and pulls them down from her face. “It was just an experiment gone wrong.”

“What sort of experiment gives people black eyes?”

Lena breathes out an indignant little huff of air. “It’ll be easier to just show you.”

Kara’s gaze narrows. “Alright.”

Kara is right on Lena’s heels as they walk to the spare room. The room Lena has taken to calling the nursery, where Baymax is lying in wait. At this stage in his development, he’s pretty infantile at best. He knows a few key phrases and can identify a person as long as they’re standing in front of him. But he can’t hold a conversation and his object permanence is severely lacking. So, yeah. Lena’s gonna call his room a nursery.

Baymax is in his charging pod where she’d left him a few days ago (when their most recent test run failed spectacularly, leaving Lena with a shiner). There isn’t anything else in the room, though. Lena had removed a lot of it to make space for his assembly. Once that was done, she decided to keep the room empty after he broke her last laptop after a particularly nasty glitch. So the only thing in here, as far as Kara’s concerned, is some weird red luggage tucked against the back wall.

“What am I looking at?” Kara asks, the worry from before replaced with confusion and curiosity.

“Hopefully something that’ll help a lot of people,” Lena says.

It’s cryptic, she’ll admit. But it’s hard to explain exactly what Baymax is at this point. Because he’s not simply a robot anymore. He’s taken on so much more personality and life in just the few weeks since his first test run. He’s learning. Growing. Like a person.

So instead of explaining, Lena crosses the length of the room, kneels down in front of the charging pod, and activates the robot.

Later, Kara would say that Lena leapt away from the charging station as it booted up. Like she’d gotten zapped or something. Lena, however, would vehemently insist that she simply hurried away in case something went wrong. Either way, she now stands alongside Kara, watching with bated breath as Baymax comes back to life.

She counts the seconds it takes him to inflate. 23. They need to get that down. He needs to be faster. If someone is really hurt, he has to be able to help. It takes another 4 seconds for Baymax to fully boot up. His eyes blink to signify that he’s fully functional and ready to assist. A total of 27 seconds. They can do better.

Not that Kara notices. She’s staring open mouthed and wide eyed as Baymax awkwardly stumbles out of his charging pod. His steps are heavy, almost as if he thinks the floor is further down (just another thing to iron out). He stops moving about two feet away from them both. Lifts his hand limply into the air (the fingers not fully inflated or opposable yet).

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

And then he freezes. Standing right there. Unmoving and, to be frank, a little terrifying.

“Wow,” Kara breathes.

“Yeah,” Lena agrees. “He’s still got a lot of bugs to work out. Hence the black eye.” She gestures at her left eye vaguely. “But when he’s finished, he’s going to help a lot of people.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kara asks.

Lena turns to her now. Her brow arched and a playful little smirk on her lips. “What? Is being Supergirl not enough for you?”

“Don't get me wrong. I love being Supergirl, but this.” She points at Baymax’s frozen form. “This will be able to do something I never could.”

Lena’s smirk falls into something softer. Something kinder. Kara finally looks at her now.

“Now, I’m not great with coding and all that… stuff. But I can help you test him out. No matter how hard he tries, he’s not going to be able to give me a black eye.”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Do I… do I start now?” Kara asks hesitantly. She fidgets uncomfortably with the sign Lena handed her, then adjusts her glasses.

Lena smiles at her from behind her computer. “You can start whenever you like. But I do want to be done by dinner, darling.”

“Right.” Kara nods.

She looks away from Lena, her eyes landing on Baymax. And then she grins. That unfairly perfect grin. The one that is so infectious it’s a wonder the CDC aren’t investigating it yet.

“This is Kara Danvers,” She says, carefully enunciating each word. “And this is the first test of mine and Lena Luthor’s Baymax Project.”

She reaches forward, just like Lena showed her, and turns Baymax on. She grins again, up at the robot, and waits. Watches as he blinks, tilts his head down, and lifts his hand.

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

“Hello, Baymax!” She answers cheerily. “Would you please scan me?”

“Beginning scan now,” Baymax announces.

But that’s not what happens. No, it would be too simple if that’s what happens next. Instead, the entire system glitches. And both his arms start vibrating rapidly.

Kara’s face pales. “Uh, Lena,” she calls, not daring to look away from another rogue robot. “Is he supposed to be doing that?”

“No,” Lena says quickly. She looks between the two screens in front of her, trying to search for the error in his code to stop this from happening next time. “You gotta shut him down, Kara.”

“Uh-oh!” Kara exclaims.

Lena’s head snaps up. “Uh-oh?”

“Sorry about your laptop,” Kara says, as if it’s her fault Baymax broke yet another computer. Lena really needs to stick to her no-computers-in-the-nursery rule.

“It’s alright.” Lena waves her off, dutifully working away at the code from her tablet. “I’ll just get another one.”

“Next time I’ll stand between the two of you. That way I can better stop his renegade flying arms.”

Lena's gaze snaps to where Kara sits, finishing off the last of their fries (Lena’s fries, really. But they always share). “Next time? You still want to help after that disaster?”

“Of course,” Kara says earnestly. Then her face screws up. “But do you think we could make him look a little friendlier? A bit rounder? You know. Friend-shaped?”

Lena snickers. “Friend-shaped?”

“Yeah. Friend-shaped.”

Lena laughs lightly, and start typing again. “I think I can make that work.”

Wow. That got away from me

So this is how Kara ends up being the one to test Baymax. It's also part of what Baymax shows to Lena after telling her "Kara is here."

This scene (as in the video, not the ficlet) would serve as an emotional low point, if you couldn't tell. And it would be the moment where Lena decides she's going to let the Superfriends use Baymax to save Kara (instead of his actual purpose which is, you know, healthcare)

#still not sure if i'm going to write a whole fic for this #but there sure will be more stuff like this #probably #i dunno #this is both invigorating and depressing so i guess we'll see #supergirl #supercorp #lena #kara #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara zor el #baymax #bh6 #big hero 6 #big hero 6 au #bh6 au #ficlet #my art

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piratesgiftexchange · 2 years ago

Text

A Piece of Cake (A Cup of Tea)

for @hearti, by @bestie-enthusiast

PROMPT: “Lord Beckett doing something that isn’t work related” WORD COUNT: 824

Notes: I hope I have done justice to what you wanted! It’s pretty angsty but I’m proud of it! Hope you enjoy :)

He was craving tea. It was well beyond the hours that Lord Cutler Beckett should be awake, and he wanted tea. It wasn’t his fault, not really, he had gotten caught up in his work and had asked no one to disturb him. But now it was very late, or very early depending on how you looked at it, and he wanted tea.

Normally, he would not hesitate to ring one of his servants and demand they make him a cup, however he was hosting a party the next day (or later that day) and he would not tolerate any mistakes. This meant he would prefer not to have to wake someone up and have them screw up something the next day. He would have to prepare it himself.

Standing up from his desk, he let out a soft moan as his spine cracked. He rolled his shoulders and straightened up, even in the dead of night he would not be caught vulnerable. As he made his way to the kitchen, he pondered how long it had been since he made his own tea. Even before he had acquired enough fortune to purchase his own servants, he had been respected by his superiors and had been treated to meetings over tea time and lunches sent to his office.

He decidedly did not think about preparing tea for his father, under the watchful eyes (and hands) of his older brothers. Nor did he think about harsh words and hits when he managed to mess something up (he always did).

Blinking as he cleared away the thoughts he did not think, he entered the kitchen. He clenched and unclenched his fists, he was perfectly fine. He rarely visited his own kitchen, and so he allowed himself a moment to stare; he had spared no expense for his entire estate, and the room was no exception. Clean and expensive, it was most certainly fit for a Lord. He did, however, have no idea how it was organized.

He purged his mind of any thoughts as he began methodically searching the room for the necessary items; a kettle, a pot, a cup, a saucer, the tea. He slowly collected the items, mind pleasantly blank as he went through the repetitive motion of searching. Open the drawer or cabinet, look inside, close it, move on.

Eventually, he had gathered up the necessary items, and began boiling the water. He filled the kettle from the tap, humming under his breath as he did so. It was an old tune, one his mother had hummed to him when he was young. It was a sad little tune, but there was pleasantness in it, a certain pride that came from someone who had nothing else to lose. Once he had filled the kettle, he lit the stove top and gently set it on the heating surface.

He had to wait now, waiting was always the worst part. He could recall, for all he tried not to, when the water took a spectacularly long time to boil as a child. He could remember the feeling of his brothers shoving him down, of them yelling at him. He was always doing something wrong.

He was broken out of the memory by a familiar whistle. The water had finished boiling. He pulled it off the stove top and extinguished the fire. He set it aside momentarily as he approached the tea pot. He gently deposited a teaspoon of English Tea into the pot, greedily breathing in the aroma of the tea leaves. What a nostalgic pleasant smell.

Turning back to the boiled water, he carefully poured it into the waiting pot, hissing as a droplet managed to hit his finger. He gently sucked on the offending appendage as he closed the pot, content to let it steep. He poured the remaining water into his waiting cup, delicately balancing the boiled water with one hand as the other was injured.

Now came the waiting again. Seconds passed like minutes as he desperately pushed down the thoughts. It was far too quiet, and dark. Nostalgia is an interesting phenomenon is it not? That one could yearn for a past that was far worse than their present just for memories sake was a horrible notion. It was cruel to make people feel that way.

The tea should be steeped by now, should it not? Yes, it should. He blinked again, pouring the water in the tea cup back into the kettle. He took a deep breath and poured himself a cup of tea, the smell made him want to gag. He took a sip, not caring that it burnt his tongue. It tasted of blood and dirt. He swallowed.

He set the cup down and returned to his study. He had work to do, he had no time to be spending time in the kitchen making his own tea.

He would just wake someone else up next time.

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #fanfiction #cutler beckett #submission #round 2

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wy-van-sunshine · 3 years ago

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“Minor inconvenience: I fell in love with you” A Wesper fanfiction :)

“Say whaaaat now?!”

Wylan’s cheeks flushed with red as Jesper’s gaze studied him with something between shock and amusement.

They were in a bar together and Wylan had spotted a nice guy, but he hadn’t found the gut to go and talk to him because he had absolutely zero experience. Jesper had tried to encourage him and he’d refused, and after some teasing he’d finally admitted he’d never even given his first kiss. Jesper was absolutely incredulous: that smart, cute red-haired guy had never had a romantic past with anyone? Not even a flirt?!

“What do you want me to say?” asked Wylan, sinking in his own shame: “There’s just never been... the right occasion”

“I get that, but have you never wanted to try it? Even with a stranger, just to know how it feels!”

“I’m not that kind of person, I don’t kiss strangers for selfish reasons”

Jesper rolled his eyes: “Okay prince charming, and what about the guys you’ve liked in the past? None of them?”

Wylan scrolled his head: “I’m an introverted, Jes, you know that. If I like someone I’ll die before even talking to them”

“So what, you just look at them in silence and hope that they will miraculously fall in love with you?”

Wylan shifted uncomfortably on his seat, refusing to answer: yes, that was basically what he did. He was pathetic and he knew it, but what could he do about that?

Jesper stood up, grinning: “Well, Wylan Van Eck, your life as a virgin will be over soon”

Wylan’s eyes wandered fastly in the room, then went back to Jesper: “Don’t talk like that when there’s other people around us”

“My candor is my greatest power” answered the Zemeni with a wink: “I’ll teach you everything I know about flirting, and you’ll never be afraid to talk to a nice guy again”

“What- are you crazy?”

“No”

“Drunk?”

“No”

“High?”

“Stop it! I’m serious!” Jesper smiled: “You are a great guy and I’m sure you just need to learn how to hit on other boys. Once I reveal you all the secrets of love, you’ll be the king. Well, the prince, after me, of course”

Wylan snorted: “Secrets of love? May I remind you we’re the same age?”

“Yes, but I’m fantastic. Learn from the best and you won’t regret it”

“All I’m going to learn from the sorcerer of love is how to be terribly sleazy”

Jesper clutched a hand to his chest: “That offends me! You’ll learn to be spectacularly amazing, just as I am”

Wylan facepalmed, but at the same time he thought: what the hell, what do I have to lose?

“Fine then, if you insist” he conceded with a sigh.

* * * * *

“And that concludes the small talk part”

“Ghezen, that’s so sad”

“Or amazing?”

“Sad”

“Or... amazing?”

Wylan sighed: “Asking someone whether their parents were thieves because their eyes look like stolen stars is so sad. And old. And sleazy”

Jesper smiled, winking with his gleamy eyes: “I assure you it works. It might be obvious, but people just don’t know how to answer and stupidly smile at you”

“I thought they would throw their drink on your face”

“No, they don’t”

“I would”

“But not them”

Wylan sighed again, but this time a slight smile was touching his lips: he was secretly grateful to Jesper because he was teaching him things that were so basic, but which he didn’t know how to handle. Approaching someone, starting a conversation, sending signals of interest without being weird or disrespectful: if he had to be honest, if Jesper had flirted with him with all those techniques it probably would’ve worked. Sure, he would’ve thrown him his drink first, but he would’ve fallen for him, eventually.

“Now the interesting part: kissing”

Wylan suddenly went pale: “What?”

“All that flirting and no action? That’s not what I want for my students to learn”

“But I- I’ve never-”

“I know, that’s why we’re going to find someone to practice with”

Wylan snorted: “I’m not going to kiss a stranger! Are you out of your mind?”

Jesper rolled his eyes: “Jeez, Wylan, you’re so prudish! Live a little!”

“I’m not kissing a stranger. End of argument”

Jesper huffed: he was loving to share his knowledge on the subject and he was also proud of Wylan for getting over his shyness at least with him. The merchling was a handsome guy and Jesper was sure that with a little more confidence the entire world would fall to his feet. But, jeez, how hard it was.

“I can’t teach you how to kiss if you have no one to do it with”

“I’ll kiss you then”

Silence fell between the two: Wylan had spoken before he could even realize what his words meant, and now he was terrified of what he’d said and trying to avoid Jesper’s eye contact; Jesper, on the other hand, wasn’t embarassed at all, just surprised at his friend’s suggestion.

Wylan talked first: “I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s fine by me” Jesper stopped him before he could get any more red: “It’ll be easier to understand whether you’re doing it right”

Wylan gazed at him, unsure of what to say: “Are you... sure?”

Jesper winked: “Anything for you, my friend”

They got ready to practice: Jesper explained some basic “rules” about kissing and some moves he thought were gracefully good and that would make the kiss unique and mostly unforgettable. He saw Wylan’s eyes gleaming at the thought of doing that and his heart softened: he was so pure, definitely too cute for this world. Jesper made a mental note to threaten every guy the redhead would find because they should treat him like a prince or else-

The Zemeni smiled at Wylan, sure that what he was going to say would make his friend’s brain crash for some seconds.

“Now we have to put all this in action. Time to kiss, loveboy”

Wylan shifted uncomfortably on his feet and his cheeks went pinker.

Predictable. Cute, but predictable.

“All right. What should I... should we...”

Jesper placed a hand on Wylan’s shoulder and he stepped forward to face him. He smiled, but not his usual, smart, all-knowing grin: the merchling had seen that emotion few times before on Jesper’s features. He was simply honest.

“Please, promise not to freak out. It’s just you and me and we’re practising. C’mon now”

Wylan nodded and took a deep breath, then leaned forward with his head and, after hesitating for the barest second, he gently touched Jesper’s lips for a brief moment. He closed his eyes and left a kiss there, then pulled away, his heart racing in his chest for no apparent reason.

Jesper felt something in his stomach as well: he felt like that sweet, innocent, small touch was the best kiss he’d ever had. And he’d had a lot. What was happening? He cleared his throat and laughed: “That’s all you have? I’ve taught you better, I hope!”

Wylan mentally asked his heart to please stop playing the rock ‘n roll like a drummer, then timidly smiled: “It’s not easy, give me time”

But Jesper didn’t want to wait: he knew what to expect, he knew how the kisses he gave were, and he really wanted that from Wylan’s lips. Just blind desire, he told himself. You just want a good old fashioned kiss, that’s all.

Wylan breathed again, then, with less hesitation than before, he met Jesper’s lips with his and started kissing him. He felt the Zemeni kissing him back, though not in the passionate way he’d expected: he was just answering to his movements, he wasn’t forcing anything. Such a good teacher.

When he felt ready enough, Wylan tipped with his tongue on Jesper’s lower lip and the sharpshooter opened his mouth and let their tongues touch timidly at first, the merchling experiencing all of that for the first time and taking his time to get more confident. He let out a shaky breath, insecurity already taking place in his body, but Jesper felt that and cupped Wylan’s face in his hands, gently brushing his cheeks with his thumbs and feeling his muscles relax.

Wylan summoned some courage then and deepened their connection, dancing in Jesper’s mouth, pushing forward for more contact, letting his instinct take control over his overthinking mind. He put his hands on Jesper’s chest and he pushed him with his back against the wall, something new blossoming in his chest, some unknown desire running down his spine.

Wylan felt good. It wasn’t just the kiss - he had no experience, sure, but he was pretty sure he was making a pretty good job. The whole situation felt right: the fact that the lips he was kissing were Jesper’s, the fact that the body he was trapping between him and the wall was Jesper’s, just Jesper himself. It was all right because Jesper was the one there with him. And Wylan was starting to think it wasn’t because they were good friends. Almost definitely not.

On the other hand, Jesper was in a total black out, error 404, not found: he was lost in Wylan’s lips and he wasn’t going to look for a way back, he was just focusing on their moment, there and now, on Wylan’s sudden bravery, on the warmth of his body, on the sweet flavour of his mouth. He didn’t know what was happening - or better: he did, but he was too busy to focus on what his actual feelings towards his friend were.

When Wylan pulled away, desperately looking for some oxygen to send to his lungs, Jesper leaned his forehead on Wylan’s, eyes closed, and he laughed: “Well, damn well done, I’d say. Looks like the student bested the teacher”

Wylan laughed, his cheeks already pink for the kiss, then leaned one hand on Jesper’s cheek, meeting his gaze: “That felt good. I think I’ve learned something, after all”

Jesper cleared his throat, then said in a whisper: “Gotta be honest, I’ve never had such a great kiss”

“Must be because I used your technique and you think you’re the best” answered Wylan, smiling.

“Well, I do love myself, but...” Jesper didn’t break the eye contact and smiled back “I don’t know what happened, but that wasn’t me. You were passionate, for sure, but there was something... I don’t know, soft? It was your kiss, your way to do it. Turns out you’re a natural”

Wylan laughed: “For what it’s worth, I think I was able to be myself just thanks to you”

“Well, then you should...” Jesper hesitated “Try it with someone else?”

The merchling studied the Zemeni carefully: he looked reluctant at the thought, he... didn’t want him to kiss someone else? He smiled, thinking about how his own heart raced, how his own body longed for that contact with Jeper again and again. Wylan also thought about how Jesper had reacted to his kiss, about what he’d just told him.

What if the hearts going crazy in that room were two?

Wylan grinned then, an eyebrow raised: he took a step forward and he reached Jesper’s face, stopping a few inches from his lips: “What if I wanted to kiss you again? And not just to practice?”

Jesper softly laughed: “Saints, you’re savage, Van Eck, I’ve unleashed a beast”

“You-”

Wylan couldn’t finish because this time Jesper kissed him first. He smiled in their kiss, and they both felt as good as they never had before.

He’d learned well, after all.

#six of crows #wesper #wesper fanfic #wylan van eck #jesper fahey

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starboundanon · 3 years ago

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Herbie I started grad school this week and it was rough. May we please have soft daddy Din head cannons? I just want Luke to be cared for and also kept in a soft sweet head space

Awww, Anon. I'm proud of you. Grad school is really tough, but keep your head up. It gets better.

One order of soft Daddy Din, coming right up.

Luke, selfless, chaotic, heroic little martyr that he is, has a tendency to take spectacularly poor care of himself for a magic space monk. He meditates to release stress and unpleasant thoughts into the Force, but aside from his yearly trip to visit his sister so Leia can pamper him a little like he needs, he really doesn't get the attention that he deserves.

Din is very similar — but fortunately for them both, doting on others is Din's self-care. It's the calming, nourishing, self-indulgent activity he can partake in every single day that really recharges his batteries and soothes his soul. Every time he feels Luke melt beneath his firm, massaging hands, or sigh blissfully into a steaming mug of chocolate, it revitalizes him.

Luke has trouble accepting that kind of genuine selflessness from others, but he can also feel through the Force that Din needs this, and sometimes, that's all it's about. Sometimes, Luke is okay, and so he lets Din cling to him like he's a teddy bear, and rub his shoulders and make him dinner, and wash his hair and moisturize his skin, and hold him as they both fall asleep.

Sometimes, the sweetness of it is too much. The honeyed words adoringly whispered in the negligible spaces between their mouths as they lie chest to chest bring him to tears. Din's hands, broad and warm and rough, caressing every inch of his skin like it's a joy just to touch him twists that lonely knife in his soul. The way Din needs to hold him, sometimes, like Luke is a precious thing, something the other man can't even bear the thought of losing, breaks his heart.

And sometimes, it's exactly what he needs. Sometimes he's able to drift off into calm warm safe because Din is there, curled around him, quietly telling him about his day as he plays with his hair and rubs his back. Sometimes he reaches that comfortable, murky headspace because Din has shushed him, clean and fed, wrapped in softness while he cradles him to sleep, the heat of his body like a furnace. Sometimes he's so far from the dark side, from the grimmest cruelty the galaxy could conjure up, because Din has scooped him up and is rocking him in his arms, humming an old Mando'a lullaby Luke doesn't understand, punctuated with sweet promises of, "You're all right. You're safe. I'm here. Daddy's here, little one."

And it's exactly what they both need.

#dinluke #herbie asks

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wakatvshi · 4 years ago

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roman holiday | porco galliard x reiner’s sister!reader. pt1.

warnings: obviously season 4 anime spoilers

word count: 3316

gif credit: ackersoul

authors note: so this is the first part of my porco x reader fic! the reader is reiner’s sister and you can decide if you want to say they’re adopted/half-siblings/full siblings or not because I left that totally open for you! feedback is loved so if you like this let me know! also since we don’t know the exact timeline I’ve messed around with it but it’s still canonverse.

summary: falling in love with porco galliard wasn’t a simple thing. keeping that love a secret wasn’t either. but telling your brother that you were in love with the man who did his best to make his life hell? even harder.

Your hand was holding tightly onto your mothers arm as you stood at the gates. The soldiers had returned today, that meant your brother and cousin would be coming home. Should be coming home. In war anything could happen and where your mother assured everyone who would listen that Reiner was strong and would make Marley proud you couldn’t help but worry. The warriors' mission to Paradis proved that even titans could be taken down, it wasn’t something your mother ever accepted but you did. The idea that something could have happened to Reiner or Gabi and they wouldn’t come home wouldn’t leave you.

As much as you wanted to believe, you knew your brother, you’d seen him wake up from nightmares and listened to him talk when he had a little too much to drink. No one but you seemed to actually notice that he wasn’t the same, he wasn’t as strong as your mother boasted. Not that you’d ever say anything to anyone, not even your mother. You’d tried to bring it up before, ask if she thought he was okay and she scolded you for doubting him when he was strong enough to be a warrior. Something she enjoyed reminding you, you weren’t.

Those fears were erased when the gates opened and you watched Gabi walk in smiling. Relief filled you and you let yourself relax, even smile when she ran to your aunt and uncle. The other warriors filed in as well and your eyes locked onto a tall blonde but your mothers voice took your attention away from him. As Reiner walked towards you, you couldn’t miss how tired and worn out he looked. But still he smiled as he walked over to you, hugging you both.

As soon as he let go of you, your mother was fawning over him. Walking towards your home you listened as she talked about the beard he was growing. He hummed and agreed quietly when she gave him time to speak. You were silently by your brothers side, the man still comforting to you. Reiner was the prize sibling and you knew that, he was the warrior, he was the reason you wore the red arm bands. You hadn’t wanted a titan, you’d never have voiced that to anyone but you were thankful you weren’t chosen and upset that he was. Upset that you’d lose your brother in two years now.

When you were in the warrior program you’d failed spectacularly at the physical tasks, but your mind was where you shined. That was why when you were pulled out of the warrior program you were sent to learn with medics and hopefully you’d become a doctor when they deemed you ready. Hopefully that would be soon, they were letting you work with people on your own recently, with you researching titans more you could be placed with the warrior’s yourself. You were proud of that and you tried to talk to your mother about it, if you did well you could get a red arm band on your own, but Reiner had already done it and that was what mattered to her.

The dinner that she’d planned with your family ended up worse than you’d expected. You’d been hoping for a calm dinner, getting to talk to Reiner and Gabi after them being gone for so long but that hadn’t happened. You had to listen to your mother talk about how proud she was that Gabi would be the one to take the armor, that her niece would eat her son. Then your uncle asked about Reiner’s time on Paradis and it ended in your mother blowing up. You’d heard him slip up like that before, not often but enough that as soon as he was asked about it you knew it was going to end badly, just as it did.

You’d silently helped your mother clean up, she wasn’t in a talking mood and Reiner had long retired to his room. As much as you wanted to talk to your mother the look on her face made it clear she didn’t want any conversation. However when your eyes lingered too long on your brothers door she spoke. “Leave him.” Quickly your eyes fell to the plates in front of you as you washed them. “He’s not thinking right. He needs to get used to being out of war.”

You wanted to laugh, he’d not been thinking right for a long time but she didn’t care about that. Not until he effected her and their image. But it was always easier to agree with her and let it go. “Gabi was lucky. She got to know what it’s like before she has to take on a titan.” Reiner’s titan. You didn’t want to think about that, you couldn’t think about him being gone.

Your mothers hands were still you could see the slight shake in her hands but she distracted herself by smoothing out her skirt and walking back towards the table to clean up. “I can finish this myself.” You’d said something wrong. You didn’t know what but it wasn’t often that you really did know what was bothering her. Oh If you tried to help you got pushed away, she was stubborn, just like Reiner and yourself.

The thought of going to talk to Reiner did enter your mind but you decided against it. You’d talk to him tomorrow when you didn’t have your mother hovering over your shoulder. It was raining when you stepped outside, the mist blowing in your face as you stood under the awning, happy that you were able to get away.. You weren’t a fan of confrontation, especially when it came to your family. As much as you wanted to play peacemaker, there was only so much you could do to help when Reiner wouldn’t talk and your mother never listened. So many times it felt like you were banging your head against the wall and there wasn’t really any escape for that. You craved freedom, any kind of freedom.

There was one thing that you had that made you feel free, something you were desperate to cling to but afraid to share with the world. Afraid that if you did it would be taken away from you. When you heard footsteps there was a second where you panicked before you realized you knew the walk. A light smile came to your face as you turned to see the personification of your freedom walking towards you.

“You’re going to get soaked if you stay out in the rain Galliard.” You teased as he walked towards you. You’d missed him more than you could ever say. Not being able to go to him at the gate was harder than you thought it would be. Everything in you had wanted to launch yourself at him but you had to stop yourself. No one knew about the two of you and you weren’t ready for anyone to know. It was selfish, you knew that but you didn’t want anything to ruin what you had.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you on the porch, “You’re not looking all that dry yourself Braun.” You could tell something was off in his voice and it was pretty obvious what it was. “You wanna take a walk?” Porco wasn’t usually one to beat around the bush, he was always a direct person no matter what the consequence might be. The fact that he wanted to get away from your house was a clear sign that what was on his mind was important.

Glancing back at the door you considered saying no, putting off any anger he might have. But after so long being apart from him, you wanted to be around him no matter what. Not to mentioned that with a few well-placed kisses he went from angry to kitten in seconds. “Yeah, I don’t think my mom will even notice I’m gone.” It was just supposed to be a passive comment but you couldn’t hide the slight venom in your voice.

The rain wasn’t heavy, it felt kind of nice as the two of you walked. There was also the added fact that not many people were outside right now. You’d say it was romantic if Porco wasn’t as distant as he was. Usually he’d have you close to him if you were alone, even outside in public like this he’d have you at his side. Right now you walked behind him though, you’d tried to walk next to him but he didn’t pay you any attention when you did. You couldn’t just let yourself stand there and be rejected so you fell in step behind him.

You knew exactly where he was taking you. There was a park that the two of you used to go to, to get away from everyone. Mostly elderly people went there to relax but the gazebo always ended up empty enough for you and Porco to be alone without people bothering the two of you. You’d come out here once since he’d left, sat in the middle and let yourself pretend for a few moments that you weren’t alone then. But the reality made you too upset and you avoided it. Going back with him while he was angry wasn’t something you really wanted to do.

Following him up the steps you shook some of the water off yourself as he went to stand against one of the pillars. You could feel his eyes on you as you ran your fingers through your damp hair but the second you looked to him he was looking away. Letting out a soft sigh you spoke, “I’ve not been here in a long time.” You didn’t want the storm you knew was in his mind to grow anymore. “It feels wrong to come here without you.” He let out a hum but other than that was quiet, it was quickly getting under your skin. “Porco.”

“You know you could have at least said hi or something. I don’t think it’s that hard I mean I was able to talk to my parents and Pieck’s dad.” When he was in a bad mood he wanted everyone to be in a bad mood. It hurt but there was truth in his words.

Stepping closer to him you put your hands against his chest. Taking a moment to appreciate that he really was back. Porco was solid and in front of you, not one of the dreams you’d been having the whole time he was gone. If he’d let you, you’d wrap your arms around him and hold him there. But when he was in this mood you were lucky he was even letting you touch him. It was only because he missed you as well you were sure.

“You know my mom. If I had moved and not looked… perfect while we waited she’d have been pissed. She got mad I was fidgeting too much as it was.” Stand there, always look like the perfect family, proud in your red armbands. A nice mask that she loved you and Reiner to put on. There was a little ease on his face, he knew enough about your mother from your talks about her. He was the only person you’d complain about her to other than Reiner. “And then as soon as Reiner got there we had to show off her big warrior hero.”

As soon as the words left your lips he was rolling his eyes and stepping away from you. “Big hero warrior?” He snorted. “Yeah that’s funny.” Narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend you waited for him to say something else. You’d hated this rivalry they had going ever since Reiner was chosen for the Armor over Porco. That was part of the reason you wanted to keep it a secret. “No I’m serious! Your family should be thanking me. I’m the only reason he’s even alive!”

Your eyes widened and he looked guilty for a second, “What do you mean? How bad was he hurt?” Reiner wouldn’t have told you he got hurt. That was just like him, he never wanted anyone to worry about him when that was impossible for you.

“He just took some heavy hits that’s all. He’s alive and he’s fine now so all I’m saying is that he’s alive because of me. So you should at least give me some credit.” The annoyance slipped off his face for a second and you could see the sadness in his eyes. “You didn’t even look at me Y/N.”

Everything in you wanted to protest that, you had looked at him but he was with his parents when you did. But who could blame him for being focused on them. They’d already lost one son, the idea that they could lose Porco was probably a greater fear for them than it was you. You’d been there when that Ymir woman was brought back and Porco was told that she’d taken Marcel’s jaw. You’d offered to go with him when his parents found out but he’d declined your offer. It made sense to you later, that he was too emotional and didn’t like anyone seeing him like that.

“I’m sorry. I tried but…” You didn’t really have a good excuse other than your selfishness to keep your relationship with him a secret. “I should have said something, I know that. Not being able to go to you drove me crazy. I just knew that you’d come to find me tonight.”

He stared at you again, trying to figure out what to say. You could see the emotions cross his face before he ran his hand through his hair slicking it back more. A nervous habit of his that you usually found endearing. “I don’t want to do this anymore. The hiding I mean. It was fun for a while. Sneaking around and the whole thrill of being caught but not anymore.” He was right, you couldn’t hide this forever and you didn’t want to. You loved him, you wanted to be with him. Porco reached out and took your hand. You’d never seen this look in his eyes before and it scared you. “I’ve got nine years left.”

Shaking your head you tightened your grip on his hand, “We don’t need to talk about that.” You kept those thoughts out of your head as much as you could. Your brother, your best friend and your boyfriend. Reiner, Pieck and Porco were all going to die because of this curse and it wasn’t something you were good at facing.

“Yes we do! It’s happening and I don’t want to spend all this time hiding from everyone.” You didn’t want to think about it but Porco was right. As soon as you accepted that you felt anything for him that the time you had together was limited. It was why you were hesitant to start anything, no matter how big your crush on him had been.

Still, you were hesitant to open up to people about it. Being with a warrior was an honor to other Eldians, but there was always mention of the short time you had together. You knew for a while that would be all you heard. Any event would be ‘cherish it while it lasts’. It would be a constant reminder. Not to mention your family. Oh your mother would be happy, she’d brag about it, probably insinuate how you’d finally done something right. Being in a romantic relationship with a warrior was more impressive to her than your own actions.

But what held you back was mostly Reiner. He wouldn’t actually be angry at you but the fact that you were dating his biggest rival was probably not something he would enjoy. You’d been there for the fights they’d have at HQ when you were all younger. Or more like you’d be there when Porco would beat the hell out of him. Then you’d listened to both of them when Reiner was chosen for the Armored Titan over Porco. The fights they’d had over that would get bad enough but Porco’s reaction to finding out that Marcel had died to save Reiner was something else entirely. After four years you’d waited for your brothers to come home and only yours had.

Reiner’s reaction wasn’t something you could predict but you didn’t think it would be too positive. Even if he pretended it was for your benefit you would be able to tell if it was fake. You didn’t want the chance that he’d be disappointed in you. But you knew you had to, you loved Reiner and he was your brother. You’d do anything for him. But Porco? When you thought of your future it was with Porco. You threw away all of your hesitations when it came to him, every caution you’d ever taken to not get close to anymore of the warriors was gone and for him.

Easing your grip on his hand you laced your fingers together, “You’re right.” Porco looked surprised for a few seconds but recovered when you kept talking. “I know you’re right, I just liked being alone with you. With no one telling me to count the years I have with you. People always love to remind me of that with Reiner already. I hate hearing it and I just… if no one knew no one could remind me.”

Porco’s hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch, it had been so long since you’d been near him and felt his touch. “Who gives a shit what they say? Who cares about how much time we have when we’re better than them anyway.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, “It’s true! The people who say that are the idiots who have nothing better to do than pay too much attention to everything we do. They don’t matter. We do.”

Taking his hand you pressed a kiss to his palm, causing him to scoff and look away from you, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “We can tell people. And make a few people jealous in the meantime.” Porco always liked when you bragged about him, he’d like the idea of people getting jealous of the two of you and you knew that. “But I get to tell Reiner.”

Porco pulled his hand away from your face as he rolled his eyes, “Who cares who tells him as long as he finds out?”

“I do. Because you’ll be an asshole about it and you can’t even deny that.” Porco would take too much pleasure in telling your brother and probably find some way to make it about sex just to bother him. Which was the opposite of what you wanted. The stern look on your face faded when you had to voice the second reason it had to be you who told Reiner. “And I’ve always told him everything. When he finds out I didn’t tell him about this… I don’t know if he’ll be upset that I didn’t tell him about this.”

There had been so many secrets between the two of you since he got back. You knew why, you knew he wasn’t allowed to talk about his time on Paradis. But even beyond that you’d gotten almost nothing out of him. It was getting to the point where Gabi was worried and to her Reiner was some unbreakable force and even at her age she was starting to see through that. You’d seen it on her face at dinner.

“Fine. Just make it soon okay?” Before you could give a response Porco grabbed your chin and kissed you. It was just a simple press of his lips but right then it felt like everything. “I hated not being able to kiss my girl when I got back.”

#porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #my writing #my fics #roman holiday

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gayhawkelatehomicide · 2 years ago

Text

title pending

hi @platoniccereal I said I was gonna write these two talking about this and I’m not done yet but I’m posting this WIP because if I don’t have at least one other person who knows I’m working on it then I’ll never finish it so here have the beginnings of the angst

I’ll put it up on AO3 when I’m done, the working title atm is “Those Who Bring Harm” because tbh a lot of my DA fics are named after verses from the chant of light, this one is obviously from Transfigurations 1:3. Anyway.

The Iron Bull leans down into Dorian's space with a grin, one hand propped on the wall behind his enormous winged chair, deliberately creating the illusion of caging the mage in. Dorian, for his part, is hiding quite an impressive blush—it has to be, for it to be visible against his darker skin, so Bull is understandably proud of himself—behind a dusty tome of Tevinter genealogy.

"So I'll see you tonight?" Bull inquires, keeping his voice low and a little rough. He watches the intent of the question roll through Dorian like one of the Inquisitor's lightning bolts, and is delighted again by how responsive Dorian always is.

"You might," Dorian responds. He's obviously trying to keep his voice level and disinterested, but he's failing spectacularly. Bull's grin pulls a little wider. "Your lieutenant is a filthy cheat," Dorian continues, nose still buried in his book, "and I have quite a bit of coin to win back from him, not to mention my dignity. If you happen to be in the Herald's Rest when I'm done with that, well. You're not the least agreeable person in this castle to spend an evening with."

Bull does not miss the back-handed compliment. He's tempted to push for more, but something about the set of Dorian's shoulders and the way his eyes keep darting towards what he can see of the library past Bull's bulk says it's time to lay off for now. Instead, he claps a heavy hand on Dorian's exposed shoulder (which gets him a delightful shudder) and winks at him just to watch him roll his pretty, kohl-lined eyes. Bull has heard the complaints about how he should quit trying to wink with just one eye enough times that Dorian doesn't even have to open his mouth for them to start playing in the back of Bull's head.

"I'll see you after Krem's done taking your money, then," he says agreeably, for the offended squawk it draws from Dorian, who puffs up like one of those brightly-colored territorial birds they have in Minrathous. The image fits so perfectly that Bull has to bite back a laugh. He hides the impulse by deliberately drawing Dorian's eyes to his chest as he pushes off the wall to straighten up to his full height. The desired effect (flustering Dorian to the point of near-speechlessness) achieved, he leaves with a final leer in the other man's direction as he heads up the stairs to complete the business that really drew him to the tower.

As much fun as messing with Dorian is, it's not why he's here. A final batch of reports just came in from the last of his Ben-Hassrath contacts still willing to talk to him after his break with the Qun, and the Inquisition's spymaster needs to see them. Something is brewing in Qunandar. He's not sure exactly what, but he's hoping that Leliana will have more leads. His have dried up lately. While he wouldn't trade all the Qunari informants in the world for Krem and the Chargers, being cut out of the information network makes him feel half-blind, and not in the way he's used to.

The incessant cawing of crows from above must muffle his noisy footsteps on the stairs, because he’s not making any effort to be quiet, but when his head clears the floor of the tower's top room, he doesn't spot Leliana at her desk. Instead, she's kneeling before the makeshift shrine she has set up in an alcove, hands clasped and head bowed in what looks like fervent prayer. Bull's sharp gaze picks out the details, even as instinct freezes him in place.

No one else is in the rookery, not even the usual handful of trusted agents resting between assignments, sending messenger crows, filing reports, or idling about waiting to be sent on errands. No one but the Nightingale, half-prostrate before her little altar, face shielded by her ever-present hood. Bull can pick out the sound of her voice, though he can’t hear the individual words, murmuring underneath the rustling of feathers and the whistle of the wind outside. She rocks back and forth gently, shoulders hunched, and though he can’t see her knuckles Bull would bet scraps to sovereigns that they’re white from how hard she’s clasped her hands together.

The impression he’s getting from her body language is so clearly abject desperation that it’s embarrassing to look at, especially from someone who’s usually more guarded than some Ben Hassrath spies he’s known. Leliana has always been a challenge to read because she hides her motives and emotions so smoothly behind her façade of cool composure. This is almost painful. He’d thought the Inquisitor was keeping a better eye on her than this, or at least Josie was checking on her from time to time. Apparently she’s too good at hiding and too used to handling things on her own.

Bull knows the feeling.

He softly retreats, taking a few silent steps back down the stairs before deliberately (and loudly) shuffling the reports he’s carrying and calling up into the rookery as he ascends again.

“Hey Red, I just got some news that I think you should take a look at.” This time, when his head clears the floor he finds the Nightingale leaning against the wall by the door, holding a sheaf of papers in one hand and a quill in the other, looking for all the world as if she’d been pacing while she read reports. She glances his way, and she’s good, but even she can’t hide the red-rimmed eyes of someone who has recently been crying quite that quickly.

“Thank you. Put them on my desk, if you would.” Her Orlesian accent does much to disguise the slight thickness to her voice, caused by holding back sobs. Bull has heard it before. Probably too often. Leliana is clearly trying to encourage him to leave before he has the chance to notice her less-than-perfect mask, keeping him at a distance that would prevent a human from seeing the details of her features in the dimmer light up here. Unfortunately for her, Qunari eyes are closer to elven than human, and he can see just fine. Besides, Bull doesn’t need to see her face to know that she’s upset about something, and to take a guess at what it was.

He puts the reports down on her desk like she asked, then comes around to her side of it to lean most of his weight against the sturdy surface. Her eyes track him, wary as always. “Is there something else I can do for you? There is much work to be done.”

“Yeah, actually,” Bull scratches the base of one of his horns and silently laments the lack of civilized alchemists in the south capable of mixing a decent horn balm. Then he puts the mild irritation aside and focuses on the much thornier problem in front of him. “I wanted to ask how you’re coping. That… demon-spirit-thing pretending to be the late Divine in the Fade left a message for you. I don’t have all the details, but—”

“I appreciate your concern,” she cuts him off abruptly, “but I do not need it. I am unsure what you and the Inquisitor met at Adamant, but it was not my friend. There are no answers in the Fade, only twisted reflections. It is a warped mirror, and trying to make it seem otherwise is foolish. That way lies madness.”

Bull is pretty sure he hides his flinch. He remembers the fucked up little graveyard, partially submerged in the shifting green and black water-that-wasn’t-water. He remembers the single word beneath his own name, and the silent way Inquisitor Trevelyan had looked at it, then put a hand on Bull’s shoulder (well, bicep, really) and swore to get them all out of there, whole and unpossessed. He remembers how much better the promise had made him feel at the time, however irrational the reassurance was. The image of that bleak text, “The Iron Bull: Madness,” is seared into his memory, no matter how much he tries to scrub it out. He had leaned on the Qun to reassure himself that he was still himself, in the first week or so after they all tumbled out of the Fade, less one Gray Warden. Now he doesn’t have that reassurance anymore, and he’s been keeping it together but the fear of losing it is constantly on his mind.

He thinks all of this in the time it takes to blink, and realizes from Leliana’s careful gaze that she said it on purpose. She must’ve read Trevelyan’s full report, the long version that nobody outside of the Inner Circle will ever see, and now she’s poking at him about it. He kind of wants to be angry, even though he knows it won’t be productive. Still, he’d do the same in her position. Needling to see if the boss’s bodyguard is fit for his job, probing without seeming to do any such thing, taking a perceived weakness and twisting it into a position of strength. She’s very good. She wouldn’t be the Inquisition’s spymaster if she weren’t.

Still, two can play at that game.

#dragon age #dai #my writing #kinda a prompt fill?#Leliana #The Iron Bull #I have no idea how exactly this is turning out and idk whether this sounds like them at all yet #just throwing this out there to peer pressure myself into finishing it eventually #platoniccereal #I said angst for you and here is where it begins

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

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Apologize (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 900 Warning: some language

Summary: Years later, Ethan apologizes for making her cry on her first day as an intern.

A/N: No proofreading. We die like men.

“I'm proud of you,” Lilac declares, face alight with the most charming smile he has ever seen. Her hands rest at either side of his face, thumbs tracing the edge of his jaw, their noses only centimeters apart.

Ethan is almost too distracted by the constellation of pretty freckles on her nose, even if he's marveled at them for years. As the words catch up, he pulls back to give her a puzzled look.

“Proud?”

“Yes,” she laughs. “You bit your tongue when the interns started asking questions today.”

Ethan winces reflexively. “Quite literally, as a matter of fact.”

Lilac laughs fully now, the melody of it filling her office. God, he loves that sound. Even more he loves being the one inspiring it so easily.

“Well, for what it's worth, I'd deem today's first day a success,” she declares brightly.

A dry laugh escapes him. As far as Ethan is concerned, every first day with a new batch of interns is not unlike descending into the ninth circle of hell.

“And how are we quantifying said success?”

“No one died—”

“An exceptionally low bar,” Ethan interrupts.

“—No one quit. No one threw up. And you didn't make anyone cry.”

Ethan goes very still at the last one, his heart taking a nasty dive.

Lilac notices, head tilting to a side as a pensive little dent forms between her brows. If his guilt-stricken expression is not enough to tell her something is amiss, then the way his shoulders pinch with tension, firm as boulders, definitely do the trick.

“You still have all year to accomplish that endeavor,” she informs him with uncertainty, watching his expression with those clever, assessing eyes. “You know someone is bound to fuck up so spectacularly that—”

“I did that to you,” he blurts, the molten, sickening guilt swirling in his stomach pushing the words out before he can stop them. “On your first day.”

She stills in his arms, all humor dissipating from her delicate features. When she seems to remember words, she says, “How did you—?”

She stops, the words catching at her throat. “I thought no one knew about that.”

Her voice sounds small, embarrassed, haunted by the memory of that day. This time, it is Lilac who tenses under his touch.

Ethan swallows, the guilt knife sharp by now, threatening to buckle his knees.

“Lilac, I'm so—”

“You don't have to—”

Ethan shakes his head, impassioned. “I do.”

He had to offer her this, like he should have done so years ago, ever since he caught wind of the rumors. The specter of the man he used to be, callous and unrelenting, haunts him as an echo of his own words reaches him through the years.

You need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here.

“I'm sorry, Lilac. I was an arrant jackass for shouting at you that day. For making you question your ability, your talent, and your rightfully earned place at Edenbrook. And I am an even worse asshole for not apologizing to you before today.”

Lilac watches him in silence. Long lashes frame bright green eyes—eyes that roam every inch of his face as tenderly as a caress. They give him the courage to continue. Just like they always had.

“My biggest regret in life is that I made you cry. Multiple times.”

The tendons of her graceful neck strain as she swallows, her face breaking into a sad but appreciative smile. Then, she brings his hand, rough and calloused, to her lips. Very tenderly, she kisses each of his knuckles, making his very heartbeat stutter.

“It wasn't just you that day,” she tells him quietly. “I was already feeling overwhelmed by what happened with my patient. Plus, the stress of the first day and the fact that I kept getting lost didn't help matters.”

She stops, exhaling sharply. Ethan instinctively wraps his arms around her in quiet comfort, much like he should have done that day.

“I still could've been a much better teacher,” her murmurs into her hair right before kissing her forehead.

Lilac gives him a loving smile, one shining bright and powerful with unguarded pride. “You are now.”

He thinks back to that very morning and the way his own pride made him feel weightless as he watched her. Lilac, slipping into her new role as attending, leading Edenbrook's new cohort with patience, kindness, and fairness. Ethan had silently noted how she made them feel at ease, and how, as a result, it catalyzed their admiration and determination to be better for her.

“I learned from the best.”

His wife smiles briefly before fixing him with a serious look.

“No more feeling guilty about the past, okay?” She punctuates that declaration with a small kiss on his cheek. “Plus, I met Sienna because you yelled at me, so I can't begrudge you too much.”

Ethan laughs and leans down to press his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. Her hands descend down his chest, leaving a blazing trail in their wake, making his pulse roar at his ears. Unabashedly, he pulls her close, his body lamenting every centimeter of space between them. The moment ends with her little hum against his lips, sweet as honey and doing nothing for his ever-growing predicament.

“I also got comforted by Bryce, so it wasn't a bad day overall.”

Ethan shoots her a dry, unamused stare. “If we're going to discuss your poor taste in men before me, love, we'll be here all evening.”

Another lilting laugh before she kisses him again.

Author’s Note: I picture this years into the future (since MC is now an attending/fellow). As a result, Bryce is married at this point. There’s your serving of unnecessary info you didn’t ask for lol

Thank you @aestheticartsx for this line:

“My biggest regret in life is that I made you cry. Multiple times.”

Thank you anon for the idea.

And thank you if you made it this far!

P.S. OH3 next month! How are we doing?

Tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, , @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @rookiemarsswiftie, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @aarisa-frost, @udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @quacksonlover, @caroldxnvxrs, @ramseyandrys, @whatchique, @varikasnuori, @dimitriwife, @genevievemd, @shanzay44, @fabi-en-ciel, @trebondialanna, @lady-calypso, @ashiiknees, @dr-ramseys-rookie, @stygianflood, @bellcat2010, @iemcpbchoices, @bellcat2010, @iemcpbchoices, @gryffindordaughterofathena, @alookseeblog, @whimsicallywayward15

@emotionalswift2, @lion-ess24, @lovingramsey, @red-rookie

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #My writing

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angstyaches · 3 years ago

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Ooooh you have a delicious writing style- it's so descriptive! I'm afraid I'm quite new so don't know your characters much yet, but if this scenario could fit I bet you'd write it amazingly! Perhaps Character A is down on their luck, longterm or short-term wise, and is walking through town, having not eaten since the morning prior. Suddenly a store window catches their eye, displaying all sorts of amazing baked goods or meat cuts, and they can't help but stare while their hunger pains have them wincing openly. Character B notices them staring before Character A even realises what they're doing.

Agh, what a beautiful prompt. I think this is actually the first hunger fic I've written on request, so thank you, anon! I hope it’s okay that I used fancy pizza; I really wanted to use Payton for this and pizza is one of the few foods they would genuinely go weak over.

Pre-Payton and Autumn Getting Together

CW: hunger, hunger pangs, stomach noises, mentions of character unable to afford (decent) food, stress, overwork (it's Payton, what did we expect?), food mention

___

Payton sighed as they felt the drizzle start to fall around them. They stepped under a deserted bus shelter and stared out, wondering if the rain was going to get worse before it cleared up.

It was a fitting end to the day – or rather, the week – they’d been having. They couldn’t wait to get home and take off the stifling shirt they’d worn to a job interview that morning and then worn all the way through their shift at the café. They just wanted soft clothes and their bed and maybe a podcast to fall asleep to.

It all seemed so far away still, their energy sapping by the second and leaving them stranded five minutes away from the tram stop. Their feet stopped moving, rooting them to the pale grey concrete.

A gorgeous smell turned their head. Frantic interview prep, snooty employers, and stuffy clothes all faded from Payton’s mind. They were stopped across the street from the city’s most expensive food store. Built into a complex from the late 1800s, it was the kind of place where a sandwich cost €12. The kind of place that sold imported goods and “foodstuffs”.

An elaborate window was positioned behind the delicatessen section of the shop, where a chef was artfully piecing together a pizza on top of a copper paddle while another sat in a brick oven. The smell of the crisping dough must have been piped out deliberately onto the street, to entice those with money to burn, and to tease those without.

Payton fell into the latter category lately. With all the time they’d been spending on interview prep and assignments, they’d been taking shorter shifts at the café. Rent was going to clean them out this month. Today’s shift hadn’t even been long enough to warrant a full lunch break; they’d only taken fifteen minutes, and had spent thirteen of them taking a nap at the break room table.

Only now did they feel the twists of hunger in their stomach, the shakiness in their legs. Payton didn’t even realise that they had edged closer to the bus stop so they could sit down on the bench, one hand resting on their belly. Their stomach hurt, and it really was no wonder when they thought about it.

The last thing they’d eaten had been a bowl of cereal at seven a.m., the same cereal they were planning to have for dinner when they got home.

Payton’s stomach groaned unhappily at the prospect, and Payton groaned too; I’m right there with you, they thought miserably, rubbing at their stomach and continuing to watch the pizza chef through the window.

They didn’t know how long they grimaced and gazed across the street before they were interrupted.

“Payton? Hi!”

Payton jumped, head snapping up to see who’d said their name, and their heart skipped a beat.

A navy polka-dot umbrella sat over her shoulder. She was wearing tight leggings and an oversized sweater, her shoulder-length hair thrown into a lazy side-bun. She was wearing no makeup and looked a little sweaty, like she was heading home from the gym or dance practice.

She was a sight to behold, as always, even as she fumbled with her umbrella.

“H-hey,” Payton stammered, stumbling to their feet and trying to appear as though they weren’t so light-headed they were seeing stars.

Autumn glanced across the street, her eyes lingering there for a moment. “Uh, you don’t take this bus, do you?”

“I – no,” Payton admitted, glancing at the timetable and list of stops. “I was just sitting. Long day. Spaced out a bit.”

“Yeah, I could see that,” Autumn said, glancing across the street again. She let out a little laugh, though she seemed to consider holding it in for a moment. “I thought you were going to start drooling.”

“What?”

“The fancy pizzas.”

Payton’s heart dropped. Their face was feeling hot under their bangs. “Oh, I, uh, I didn’t even realise I was… staring.”

“Don’t be embarrassed! I watch them all the time when I’m waiting for the bus,” Autumn laughed.

Payton still blushed deeply, since they’d had no reason to sit down at the bus stop except to stare through the shop window. They were suddenly hyper-aware of their hand resting on their belly. They felt their stomach quiver under their palm, a low growl working its way through.

“You doing okay?” Autumn sat down on the bench, nodding for Payton to join her. She didn’t seem to hear the complaint from Payton’s belly. “Feels like forever since we last talked.”

“Y-yeah, sure does,” Payton half-laughed. Their shaky legs and dizzy head were thankful for the relief as they sank back down, leaving what they hoped was a healthy number of inches between the two of them. “I’ve been, um… I’m okay? I think. And – and you?”

“I’m actually… I’m great,” Autumn grinned, tucking some hair behind her ear. “I, um, I just found out today that I’m going to be Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors.”

“Are you serious?” Payton smiled, their mood genuinely lifting a bit at the sight of Autumn’s proud, shy little smile.

They often envied her for her absolute passion for musicals and acting, since they were failing so spectacularly at finding their place in the film world, but right then Payton was happy just knowing she was happy.

“Yeah! I still can’t really believe it.”

“I can.” Payton extended a long arm to pull Autumn towards them. “You’re brilliant.”

“Agh – ew, P, you don’t want to hug me!” she laughed, pulling her shoulders up tightly. “I’m all sweaty and damp!”

“I don’t care!” Payton wrapped their arms around her and pulled her close, so that their cheeks were just inches apart. “Your news deserves a hug.”

Autumn gave a deep, happy sigh as she leaned into the hug, probably unaware of the fact that the contact was setting Payton’s heart racing. It almost felt selfish, holding her like this when they were clearly getting more out of it than she was. They went to remove their arms from her, their chest fluttering as she buried her face deeper in their shoulder and kept her arms firmly around their waist.

It was lovely.

And yet, for the first time in a while, Payton felt a pang of loneliness, their core aching with the knowledge that they couldn’t hold her like this all the time. Deep in their bones, Payton wanted to kiss her hair, tickle her sides, and whisper happy little declarations of affection in her ear.

They didn’t whisper anything to her, though. They didn’t say anything as they held her. But their empty stomach was still twisting itself into shapes, and it clearly didn’t get the memo on holding Autumn quietly. A sharp growl had Payton wincing and trying to clear their throat (to cover up the noise) all in the same breath.

“Whoa, is that your stomach?” Autumn asked, lifting her head from Payton’s shoulder.

Payton’s body stiffened. “It… might be.”

“Are you okay? You must be starving.”

“I’m… Yeah.” Payton swallowed hard, letting a hand rest on their belly again.

Autumn moved back to give them some space. She was staring like she expected an explanation, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. Payton’s stomach rumbled under their hand again, bringing a twist of pain, and they didn’t know if they wanted to laugh or to cry.

“I guess I haven’t been taking care of myself too well.” They flinched again at the crack in their own voice.

Lifting her umbrella from where it had been resting against her leg, Autumn got to her feet. “Come on.”

Payton looked up at her, blinking behind their bangs. Exhaustion weighted them to the bench. “Come on where?”

A little hum escaped Autumn’s throat as she jerked her head. Her umbrella popped open and she stepped out of the bus shelter. The rain pattered against the fabric, a little heavier than it had been before.

“We’re gonna go eat pizza. Not – not there,” she clarified, gesturing towards the expensive deli. “I was thinking top floor of the Greene Centre. They sell by the slice and it’s super cheap.”

Payton swallowed again, guilt piling itself on top of the embarrassment. They felt as though they’d somehow coerced Autumn into offering to buy dinner, and the thought made them physically shudder. They got to their feet and moved a little closer to Autumn so she could hear them.

“I probably still can’t afford it,” they mumbled, staring at the ground.

“It’ll be my treat today, okay? You can pay me back by letting me ramble about my show.”

Payton gave her a shaky smile. “Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent.” That shy smile crossed Autumn’s face again. “It’s gonna sound weird, but when I found out I got the part… You were the first person I wanted to tell, Payton.”

“I... Really?” As they chewed their lip, a deep rumble came from Payton’s tummy. They frowned and folded their arms around it, noticing how Autumn's gaze drifted towards it too.

"Come on, I can't listen to your poor belly complain anymore." She lifted her umbrella a little higher with one hand – Payton was a few inches taller than her – and stuck out her elbow for Payton to link their arm through hers. “Shall we go?”

#hunger #hunger fic #OC hunger #stomach ache #stomach ache fic #hunger kink #belly kink #stomach kink #OC fic #stomach noises #Lucyverse #Lucyverse Payton #Lucyverse Autumn #fic #fic length

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justasparkwritings · 3 years ago

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Camp Evergreen: You & Me, Me & You {6}

Previous: You & Me {5}

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Summer Camp AU, Non Idol AU, FILTH, SMUT

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: Swearing! Consensual-Protected-Sex! P-in-V Sex! Nipple Play! Lots of Making Out!

Summary: One final plea to Taehyung, one final plea to you, now that camp’s over, can you mend what you’ve both so spectacularly broken?

Notes: This is the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who has been on this journey. I started this story in May? April? And have been itching to post it. Changes, rebranding, and a bunch of extra words later, I am really proud of what I’ve created. Thank you for sticking around - and pls pls pls go read Be the One. It’s messy and complicated and perfect for summer.

This is for my Free Space for @bangtanwritingbingo

Special shout out to @yutasgalaxy for backing me and supporting me and threatening to yell at people via message for me.

Camp Evergreen Master List

Be the One Master List

Saturday came and went. No note.

Sunday, a similar manner.

No note.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday came and gone.

Campers’ tearful goodbyes.

Counselors’ tears of joy.

No note.

No Thursdays at the beach.

No longing stares.

No singing in the shower.

No lingering hugs or pinkies intertwining.

No, you and me

No, me and you

“That it?” Yoongi asks, eyes scanning the remains of camp, looking for anything left unturned.

“I hope so,” You mutter, eyes doing the same, though yours are far mistier than his.

“You sure you want to come with us?” Yoongi’s moved to drape his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into him.

“Yeah, we aren’t speaking so,” You shrug. “But I don’t want to talk about it, I’ve done more than enough crying and fighting this summer. Let’s go.”

“Alright, but you know Kwan’s called shotgun,” Yoongi guides you to his car, opening the passenger door for you to slip in.

“I assumed so. Hey Yoongs?” You ask.

“What, Y/N?”

“I’m proud of you. And still a little peeved that you were together for weeks but didn’t tell me. But I get it. I’m happy you’re happy.” Is all you have time to say before the door opens and Kwan sidles in.

“Playlist requests?” She asks, turning back to look at you. “Giveon and Leon Bridgers are too sad.”

“Yoongi, run it back!” You call, waiting patiently for the opening notes of Bonfire to blare through the speakers. If you had been in Taehyung’s car, he would’ve let you play Childish Gambino’s first album straight through, laughing as you spit bars, the excitement that you had over listening to music with explicit language radiating, exhaustion threatening to overpower you.

�� Taehyung watches as Yoongi’s car pulls away, leaving him leaning against his own, watching you disappear. He knows what song you’re playing, what music you’re going to miss out on now that Yoongi’s cuddled up with his girlfriend. But that doesn’t stop him from missing you.

“You okay?” Jimin asks.

“No.”

Jimin pauses, his heartache over Stella only a memory, “Are you going to talk to her?”

“I hope so. Things are just, in repair.”

“She’s not your boss anymore, Tae,” Jimin’s gentle reminder more of a note to follow through.

“I know.”

“Okay, do you want me to ride with you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll make faster time without you.”

“That’s such a lie. I don’t want you to wallow and listen to sad jazz or blast old Usher and belt.” Jimin explains. “I’m worried about you.”

“I could use some time alone with my thoughts,” Taehyung shrugs.

“Too much time though and I’m going to permanently move into your apartment so I can check up on you. I know I’m your best friend.”

“You’re more than that.”

“I know, but Tae, she loves you and you love her. She’s it, don’t stop fighting. I already started drafting my speech for your wedding!” Jimin smiles, eyes disappearing into dancing slivers, making room for his overpowering smile.

“You didn’t.”

“Okay, but I’ve thought about it. Jungkook’s trying to get in on it.”

“He’s important to me too,” Taehyung says.

“I know. Text me when you get home, okay?” Jimin requests, arms opening to take his bestie in, holding him close.

“I will, gotta get Tannie first,” Taehyung smiles, the only thought that’s brought him happiness in the last two weeks has been thinking of picking up Yeontan from his parents. He’s sure they’ll have their own thoughts on what he should do with you, and he’s sure they’ll apologize for the role they played in your relationship’s troubles. Or maybe they’ll try to set him up with Chloe again. Zoey? He laughs to himself, of course your first thought had been to quote Dear Evan Hansen.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, Taehyung adjusts his sunglasses and opens his Spotify. He’s missed driving: the open road, music too loud, sunglasses perched on his nose. His hair is in desperate need of a cut, and not a ponytail like Jimin suggested. He watched as you nearly spit out your s’mores the other night over the thought and could see you seething that Jimin had ever suggested it. There was a comeback there, a repartee that he wanted to share with you, but he didn’t.

The drive out of camp at the end of the session is always a little heartbreaking. The promises unfulfilled, wishes ungranted, hearts shattered and hopes dashed in the heat… all remain locked in the magic of Camp Evergreen. Unless you’re Jungkook and Yoongi, who have made it out somehow unscathed, new relationships blossoming as summer starts to fade into fall.

Taehyung can’t help but be jealous, and wish you were with him, like you always have been. You’d pile into his car, dash to his parents to get Yeontan, spending time in the park playing with Tannie before picking up dinner and finally moving to your apartment. You’d eat slowly, chatting in between each bite, then take turns showering in your luxurious bathroom, no time limit or dwindling hot water supply. You’d cuddle on the couch, eating Ben & Jerry’s, falling asleep to whatever tv show you both had convinced yourselves you could finish in a sitting. He would wake up, nudging you softly, and sluggishly you’d brush your teeth before making your way to your bed, where you’d fall asleep holding each other.

Instead of having you with him, singing along to your favorite music, Taehyung is alone thinking about how this summer started.

“You ready babe?” Taehyung asked, sunglasses already over his eyes, black hair tussled and loose against his honey skin.

“Yeah, I locked up, my sister is watering my plants, yeah, I’m good.”

“Do you need to consult your checklist?”

“Haha,” You fake laughed, hand reaching to swat his chest lightly, only to be captured by his.

“I’m so funny,” Taehyung scrunched his nose, giggling deeply before placing his lips on yours. It’s sweet and romantic, his supple lips capturing yours, pulling you into him.

“I can’t be late,” You muttered.

He didn’t pull away, lips trailing down the column of your neck. “I know, we won’t be.”

“We will if you keep kissing me,” You whined.

“It’s just training! We’ve done this so many times, if Seokjin can do it, you can too.”

“If I’m not better at this than Seokjin, I will fillet you,” You threaten. Your hands held fast to his waist, pulling him as close to you as he could be, clothed, body responding to the soft swivel of his hips into yours.

“Yeah, so we are going to take a detour or two,” Taehyung smirked, finally pulling his lips from your skin.

“I’m not having sex with you in your car,” You declared.

“Who said anything about-

You’re laughing, a giggle blossoming while his nimble fingers tickle your flesh. “It’s that glint in your eyes, Tae!”

“What about the other night?” Taehyung asked.

“What about it?”

“When we made love,” He kissed your cheek.

“It sounds so much less sexy when you’re fully clothed,” You couldn’t help the blush creeping over your cheeks, the eyeroll as a reaction to him so defiantly airing your business out on the street for anyone to hear.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know, the sentiment is still there.”

“Yeah, it is.” He stopped his ministrations on your body, staring at you instead.

“Tae,”

“Hm?”

“We have to tone it down at camp, I’m your boss,” You hated to say it, hated to have to think it, but it’s a fact.

“I know,”

“Okay,”

Taehyung’s smile returned. “But we’re not at camp yet so can I love on you for a little while longer?”

“Yes.”

“You and me.”

“Me and you.”

Taehyung doesn’t know how to fix it. How to apologize, how to get you to hear him. How can he make it right, when he was the one to ruin it in the first place? When he’s played into your insecurities so clearly? He hadn’t meant to, to flirt shamelessly, to lie about Chloe. But he couldn’t tell you, couldn’t tell you at all that his love for you was deeper than any feeling he’d known. When he’d sung to you, in your kitchen, panties tossed to the side, tears in your eyes, asking to spend another 10 minutes like this, blissed and in love, he had thought his intentions were clear. He had thought you understood the vow he was taking.

But if you had, why had he continued to flirt with Kwan? Why had he chosen to find solace in her, instead of you?

Chalk it up to similar experiences, she was pining for Yoongi, Taehyung was pining for you. He hadn’t even told Jimin the extent of his heartache, hadn’t dared to speak the words while Jimin was hurting so deeply. Your week before camp had been perfect. Your love bruised onto your skin, and all it would’ve taken to solidify your bond was one sentence. One sentence and perhaps, Taehyung wonders, everything would’ve been different.

Yoongi and Kwan drop you off at your apartment, pausing curiously at the figure waiting outside the building door.

“Jimin?” You ask, staring at his blonde locks, eyes shrouded by his sunglasses.

“Long time no see,” Yoongi mumbles.

“Yoongi-ah, don’t be like that!” Jimin chides.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, taking your bags from the trunk.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” You turn and hug Yoongi, wave graciously to Kwan and let Jimin in. He kindly takes your biggest bag and follows you up the elevator to your place.

“I need to give you this,” Jimin sets a large book in front of you.

“What is that?”

“Taehyungie made it for you. He’s spent all his free time building it, crafting it for you. He didn’t know if you wanted it and was going to throw it away.”

He hands you the hand bound book, heavy and intricately decorated.

“He made this?” You ask.

“Yes.”

Jimin doesn’t need to tell you what’s in it, you already know. It’s the photos he’s been taking for the last five years, the notes he’s written, mementos and moments all ornately and meticulously captured.

“He stopped giving me notes two weeks ago,” You whisper.

Jimin wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You know he didn’t stop writing them.”

“I love him, Jimin.”

“I know you do.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“He doesn’t either, but maybe after reading through this, you’ll know what you need to say.”

Jimin doesn’t stay long, hugging you tightly before leaving you and your latest acquisition alone. You’re grateful to be alone in your spotless apartment. But you’re never truly alone, pictures and artwork from Taehyung, memories of your friendship with Yoongi, litter every surface.

Cautiously, you sit on your couch, trying not to be pulled into the reverie of your first triste with Tae. You take the book and opening it across your lap and smile at the first photo. It’s you, chocolate on your face from your ice cream cone, taken some time a year or two ago. He’s created a pocket, a small little place for you to put note number one. As you pilfer through the book, random photos from this summer interspersed with pictures from the last 5 years, you note where each note is supposed to go. In the final pages, hand collaged and printed, Taehyung has pasted the letters from the last week of camp.

Day 29: I’m sorry. Yours, Tae

Day 30: Please forgive me, baby. Yours, Tae

Day 31: I never meant to hurt you. Yours, Tae

Day 32: My heart has only ever been yours. Tae

Day 33: You and Me. Yours, Tae

Day 34: Me and You. Yours, Tae

Day 35: Nobody puts my Baby in a corner. Yours, Tae

Slamming the book shut, you glance at the clock, you’ve got time. A couple hours to settle yourself, to draft your apology, to prepare your heart to give freely and openly to Taehyung.

Taehyung doesn’t know what’s guiding him anymore, deep abject missing you, or anger at himself for letting you leave camp with Yoongi. In any event, he’s tossed a blanket on the grass in the park outside your apartment, Yeontan is busying himself chasing after a ball, and Taehyung is debating whether or not you’ll come looking for him, or if you’ll be so angry at him that you’ve forgotten your post camp ritual.

“Tae?” You ask, though it isn’t a question, you can see clearly, it’s absolutely, without a doubt him. If it wasn’t, Yeontan wouldn’t have run up to you, barking excitedly as you pick him up.

“Y/N?” Taehyung says, the upwards turn of his voice signaling the question, though it isn’t one.

“I was hoping you didn’t forget.”

“I was hoping you’d remember.”

“Look, I, fuck,” You start. Yoongi had told you to write it down, to think about what you wanted to tell him before you ran to the park to meet Tae. But all you’d done, after slamming the book closed and calling Yoongi in tears, was shower and listen to the unofficial Bridgerton musical. You should’ve listened, and fuck does it sting when Yoongi is right. It isn’t that Yoongi was right, it’s that he doesn’t gloat, he doesn’t rub it in, he just nods and stows it away for some distant, confounding reason he will never explain. Seokjin is the opposite, telling you to find a quiet moment with Taehyung to talk about it, gladly nudging you and bringing it up that he was right whenever he could.

You didn’t ask Jimin, because Jimin would give you a very long winded, thoughtful analysis on what you should say. This would only lend itself to your over thinking, panicking, and stressing over something that should be so simple.

“I missed you,” Taehyung starts.

The tears are already starting. “I miss you.”

“I hated driving home alone, I hated stopping by my parents without you,” He continues. He too had tried to make a list of what he wanted to say to you, draft an apology worthy of his lack of understanding, anything to bring you back to him.

“Did they ask about Chloe?” You question, Yeontan settling in your arms.

“Yeah, they did.”

“And?”

He smirks, jealousy is a good color on you. “And, they would like you to come over for dinner this week to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For playing a part in us not working,” Taehyung clarifies.

“Why do you sound like you’ve given up on us?” You ask.

“I haven’t, I just, my parents feel like shit, and they want to apologize to you.”

You nod, nestling into Yeontan. “So, there is an us?”

“Baby,” Taehyung’s shoulders drop, eyes devastated that you ever thought there wasn’t.

“Loverboy.”

“What were you going to say?”

“About?”

“You’re so stubborn,” He mumbles. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you weren’t going to say something when you clearly were. What was it?”

“It was noth-

“Were you going to quote Bridgerton?” Taehyung smirks. “You were, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t,” You lie.

“Then what was it?”

You sigh, glancing at the clear sky, blinking tears back. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” He questions.

“Haven’t we done this before?”

“Yes.”

You lower your head, first to the furball in your arms, then up to meet his. “I’m sorry that this summer sucked ass, that I was a mythic bitch, and that I haven’t told you sooner.”

“Told me what?” He’s progressively gotten closer, nearly standing in front of you, close enough to ruffle Yeontan’s fur.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“I think a lot of things.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to be cute and flirty?”

He blushes, “I am always cute and flirty.”

“Tae,”

“Baby,”

“Please don’t make me stand here in an open field, cradling your dog, declaring that I burn for you. I didn’t read the books and I cannot watch Daphne orgasm within the first five seconds of foreplay again. I’m always dreaming of you, and I thought we had made it clear before we left for camp, but we never said the words, and then Jimin gave me the book you made me.”

It’s an onslaught of emotions and uncertainty, of feelings and hope that you’d somehow managed to keep to yourself, though the release of all of them is so much better than the containment.

“He did?”

“Yeah. I’ll never forgive myself for not telling you -

“That you burn for me?” He interrupts.

“That we burn for each other,”

“But you love Regé,” Taehyung counters, his blush and smile peeking through his calm demeanor.

“I burn for Regé. I love you,” You set Yeontan down, watching as he trots to Tae’s feet and lays down.

“Yeah?” Taehyung asks, his empty hands reaching for yours.

“You and me,” You whisper. You push onto your tiptoes, head angling slightly lips reaching out for his. He meets yours, hands still holding on, delicate pressure against you. You pull away first, staring up at him. “Oh no, I know that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“That look that says you’re going to do your Schmidt impression and say something stupid.” You explain.

Taehyung chuckles. “Can we go up?”

“To my apartment?” You ask.

“Yeah,”

You watch as he bends down, clipping Yeontan into his leash. He doesn’t say anything other than motioning you to get off the blanket, which he folds quickly.

“Are you going to say something stupid?” You repeat, hoping he’ll answer.

“Yes,” Taehyung takes Yeontan from you, head bowing to meet the hull of your ear. He places a kiss first, then speaks. “But first, I’m going to fuck you, all night. Not to make up for this awful summer, but to prove to you how my heart is and always has been yours. And then, when you’re sweating and quivering in my arms, I’m gonna tell you.”

Taehyung straightens his spine, staring at you, waiting for a response.

You’re both exhilarated and terrified. “I really love you; you know that, right?”

His smile breaks, beaming at you, “I really love you too.”

“That’s the first time we’ve ever, we’ve ever said that,” You admit.

“First time we’ve said it romantically,” Taehyung’s hand is in yours, nearly pulling you towards your apartment building.

“Tae?” You ask, stopping before raising your key fob.

“Hm?”

Your voice is small. “Last time, last time we did this, everything changed.”

“It did,”

“Promise me, promise me that we’ll be together after tonight? Not, not in the wishy-washy way we were before camp, but really together. Taehyung, my boyfriend. All of it, Tae,” You don’t want to cry, happy tears or scared tears, but you don’t want to hide your fears from him either.

“Promise me, when I say something stupid in a few hours, that you’ll answer me?” His voice is a whisper too, feather light and hopeful. His head is tilted, cheeks a little swollen, that mischievous look on his face like he’s about to lie and hope he gets away with it.

“Depends what it is,” You whisper. You watch his lips as they get closer to yours.

“Promise,” He smiles, you’re falling into his trap.

“I promise. Do you promise?”

“Nobody puts my Baby in a corner,”

You swat his chest. “Taehyung,”

“Baby, I promise. I promise you anything and everything.”

“Okay.”

“Now can we please go upstairs? It’s been over two months and I need to hear the way you moan my name again, baby,” He dodges your lips, leaving a peck on your cheek as the elevator dings.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Taehyung doesn’t waste time, the minute the door to your apartment is locked, his shoes are off, followed by his socks and shirt. He’s got a stunning farmers tan, chest several shades lighter than his arms. His soft belly, one of your favorite physical features, remains toned in the slowly setting sunlight. You watch him, cautiously, determining if you want to make the next move, or if he’s going to.

“Tae?” You question, thighs tightening as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Yes?”

“I,” You start, hands fumbling with the strings of your shorts. “I, I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m too in my head,” You admit.

“What do you want?”

“I want, I want you to take me to my room, and undress me.”

“As you wish,” He winks, taking strides towards you before cradling your head in his hands. His lips feel like fire, burning away any self-doubt, any uncertainty and fear, charring the earth of all weeds and invasive species. He’s kissing away the pain of the last few weeks, and it’s a feeling deep in your gut, a swelling, a blossoming and blooming of your relationship.

Taehyung kisses you while you walk backwards, guiding you to your bed, the bed where you started this summer, the bed holding your deepest vulnerabilities and most profound joys. Your knees fold as you sit on, Tae’s nimble finger’s reaching under the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. He kisses down your neck, gentle nibbling from his teeth, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Tae,” You moan, breathy like a summers breeze, a whisper in his ear.

“Y/N,” He mumbles. He moves the strap of your bra off your shoulder, kissing where the strap had been, before he reaches a hand behind you, unclasping it. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thanks,”

“Every day, for the last eight weeks, all I’ve done is picture those mornings before camp. Your bare skin on mine, how you rub sleep out of your eyes, your voice, a little crackled,” Taehyung’s lips have moved from your shoulder down your chest, repeating his pattern. He nips and sucks, concentric circles following the outlines of his words, slowly moving towards your nipple. “All I could imagine,” He pauses, tongue tracing the outline of your areola. “All I could think about,” He pauses yet again, eyes staring into yours as you watch him. “All I could think was that this was how I want every day of my life to start.”

“Tae,” You moan, the tears from earlier cascading down your cheeks, your nipple deftly taken between his lips, sucking and tending to the sensitive bud. His right hand holds you in place, his left reaching up to twist and knead your other breast. Hips grinding against your duvet, he continues to tend to you.

“Ugh, Tae, just like that, keep going,” You urge. You want to tangle your hands in his hair, to scratch his latte skin, to articulate more of a cohesive thought but fuck, his teeth have made an appearance and it’s hard to think straight. Your arms, trying not to lock, are quivering.

“Taehyung, fuck, Tae,” The coil within you is tightening, an invisible thread holding your desire, tethering it to your engorged and unattended clit, it feels overwhelmingly close to snapping. “Tae, if you keep, if you keep.”

He pulls off, biting the skin between your breasts, lips beginning to mimic the design he’d so intricately laid out on your other breast. “You can cum baby.”

“Fuck I might,” You croon.

“What do you want?”

“Make me cum,”

“Hands?”

“No, just, just keep doing that,” Your head lolls backward, eyelids closed, giving into the sensation of having your nipples tended to. It’s care, and heat, his saliva adding to the sensations of his fingers twisting and pinching, the additional pressure of his hand on your breast, the gentle hums of satisfaction that add electricity to each ministration. He’s good, so good.

“I think I’m going to, Tae, Tae, I’m,” It sneaks up on you, a particularly hard suck, a harsher tweak, a fresh wave of wetness between your legs, your mouth dropping open as you moan. “Taehyung, don’t stop.”

Your entire body wants to lift off the bed, float into space, lose itself in the pleasure and euphoria of your release. Taehyung sucks harder, bites stealthily as your orgasm slowly crescendos, body returning to your bed, voice no longer a siren sound.

“Fuck,” Taehyung pulls off your tit, lips going to yours, teeth and tongue battling as he lays you on the bed, hands pulling down your shorts and sticky underwear. “Baby.”

“Loverboy,” You coo, kissing him again. You missed Taehyung, missed your best friend, missed the way he rolls his hips against yours, how his hair feels tangled in your hands, his body weight fully pressed against yours. You’ve missed texting him constantly, a stolen wink or lingering hug. And fuck, you’ve missed how he tends to you, how his hands expertly hold your flesh, his lips whispering prayers to your skin.

His kisses char the earth, but him, slipping into your heat, full body weight pressing his naked form to yours, sticky and sweaty, make the flowers bloom.

Taehyung doesn’t wait, doesn’t let you adjust to him, instead moving slowly, pulling out and in, your body’s a simple machine working together to achieve the same goal. His ear is pressed near your lips, and you can’t stop the slew of confessions slipping past your lips.

“Fuck Tae, best I’ve ever had,” You coo. “God you fill me so good, fuck me so good.”

Your praises spur him on, but it’s your next phrase that has his hips stuttering to a halt.

“One more time,” He demands, eyes blown, hair a complete mess, sweat dripping down his temple.

“Put a baby in me,” You repeat. He stares, smirking, before beginning to move his hips again, a new rhythm, harsher, punishing, unrelenting as your moans and sounds of your arousal deafening in your apartment.

“Was it sucking your tits that did it? Huh? Imagine me sucking milk from your swollen ducts? Feeding our babies?” Taehyung’s growling, some primal instinct deep within him unleashing, a free hand drawing impressively gentle circles over your clit.

“Fuck, yes,” You moan, eyes closed, body trying to find the balance between being absolutely wrecked and maintain any form of control.

“Didn’t know you had an impreg kink,” Taehyung increases the snapping of his hips, his own moans moving in decibels as he continues tending to your clit. “Baby, god, you feel so god. Don’t ever want anyone else, only you, oh my god.”

“Harder,” Your voice is a whine, begging him to do his worst.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk baby.”

“I don’t care,” You clench around him, a purposeful gesture, signaling the seriousness of your statement. Taehyung loses his posture, finally laying his chest against yours, hands on both sides of your head, holding him up. “Kiss me.”

This new position, a modified missionary if you will, forces Taehyung to slow down, to draw out his thrusts, make them each intentional, powerful, filling you to the brim. With your legs wrapped around him, your hands are free to roam his back, a little leverage to raise your hand and smack against his ass.

“Fuck! Y/N!” Taehyung yelps. He burrows his head in your neck, teeth sinking into his flesh.

“Tae,” You groan. “Fuck, almost there baby,”

“Do that again,” Taehyung’s voice is lost to the column of your throat.

“What?”

“Again, spank me.”

You haven’t forgotten his pain kink, or the bashful way he said he liked it when you were rough with him. Drawing your hand back, you smack his ass, hips involuntarily thrusting into you. Your left hand tangles in his hair, pulling harshly to match the intensity of his bite.

“If you move, I’ll make it harder,” You purr. He sinks his teeth into the spot he’s been working, bruising it further, his hips finding their rhythm again. You alternate between slapping his bare ass and scratching down his scalp, pulling his wet hair. You know Taehyung wanted to leave you a quivering mess, helpless and satiated in his arms… that was his plan, at least, until you told him you want his babies and spanked his ass red.

“I’m gonna come,” Taehyung groans, “I love you, fuck!” Taehyung’s words are met with a final smack to his ass, and his hot ropes of cum coat your walls, painting them your favorite color.

“Good job Tae, you fuck me so well, I love you,” You coo.

“You didn’t come,”

“I already-

Taehyung doesn’t wait for your explanation, sliding out of you, tongue finding your stimulated bud.

“Tae, you don’t have – fuck,” You watch as he pulls back, tongue licking his cum from your leaking entrance, swirling it around your bud before suckling it between his lips.

It doesn’t take much, a few strokes of his cum against your lips, a few sucks to your clit and you’re riding your high, thighs shaking, back arched, Taehyung’s name lost in the sounds of pleasure cascading over you.

Taehyung lifts his head, fingers swirling around your clit, overstimulation radiating against your lower lips as you come down. He slowly removes his fingers, placing gentle kisses down your thighs before he licks his digits clean. You watch him, breathing regulating, desire pooling again over his tender actions.

“So good, baby. I love you; I love you so much,” his praises swell in your chest. How had you missed out on this?

“I love you,” You answer.

“You gotta go pee,” Taehyung sits back on his haunches, watching your body as it finishes regulating itself.

“Ugh, why is everything so difficult for women?” You groan. “How mad will I be if I get a UTI?”

“So mad, mad enough to blame me, pick a fight, then apologize after you’ve started your prescription.”

“How do you know that?”

“Remember when you got a sinus infection three years ago and said it was because I kept you up too late texting and talking on the phone?”

“Alright, fine,” You roll off the bed, walking straight to your bathroom. It’s a quick trip, and soon, you’ve plopped back onto the bed, waiting for Taehyung to return.

“Do you think we’ve scarred Yeontan?” he asks. He passes you your water bottle, which you drink from greedily.

“He’s a dog, so no,” You answer.

“But he can hear things.”

“You think he’s gonna find out you like being spanked and lose respect for you?”

Taehyung blushes, it sounds ridiculous when you put it that way. “Yeah.”

“Again, he’s a dog.”

“He’s my child.”

“Okay,” You stare at him, brows raised slightly, eyes squinting lightly.

“You’re judging me.”

“Tae, I love Yeontan, and baring you murdering his mother, there isn’t much you can do to get him to stop loving you.”

Taehyung wraps his arms around you, pulling you back, his chest pressing against your skin. His chin rests on your shoulder, a gentle comfort coming over you both. This is familiar, this, Taehyung, is home.

“Love?” You ask, sweaty skin still sticking to Taehyung’s.

He kisses your shoulder. “Yes?”

“What was the stupid thing you were gonna say?”

He doesn’t waste time or pause or take another breath. He’s already wasted so much time, he won’t waste more. “My lease is up soon, I think we should move in together.”

“You do? We haven’t, we haven’t -”

“Tell me something,” He asks.

“Anything,” You say.

“In these five years, what’s been your greatest hope for us?”

“That we’d fall in love and get married, have a family, buy a house,” You whisper, hands holding his firmly against your naked abdomen.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asks.

“That’s your dream too?”

“Yes. I, before camp, I was going to tell you, tell you I love you, tell you I want everything with you.”

“Me too, it was burning in my chest.”

Taehyung starts laughing, heartily and deep, shaking you out of his grasp. “We’re idiots.”

You’re giggling too, his chuckle contagious. “Love made us blind.”

You lay on your back, Taehyung still propped on his side, eyes raking over your naked body. You’re usually so self-conscious, so overwhelmed with whether or not your sexual partners are attracted to you. But Taehyung? He already loves you, every inch, every flaw.

“I want us to move in together,” He brings your focus back toot he conversation at hand. “We can live here until your lease is up, and then maybe look for a two bedroom.”

“For a studio?”

“Mm, yes. And then, give it a year or two, we’ll get married, buy a house, get a buddy for Yeontan,” Taehyung explains.

You turn your gaze from your ceiling to him, eyes meeting as your minds meld. “You’re saying a lot of stupid things.”

“I already said I want to share my life with you,” Taehyung reminds you.

“I want to share mine with you too.”

He’s beaming. “Have we really been pseudo-dating for five years?”

“Who called it that?” You ask.

“Yoongi,”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, he can go fuck himself.”

“But have we?”

“Yeah, we have,” You agree.

“When’s our anniversary?”

“Depends on when you want to mark it, before camp, when we first met, when you knew you loved me,” You list the options, it all seems far more complicated than you’d originally thought.

“Well, how long have we been together?”

“When did you first kiss me?”

“I think our anniversary should be the first time we slept together, before camp.” Taehyung decides. “Or when we first said you and me.”

You stare at him, hadn’t you just ruled this out? “Oh, that was like, five whole years ago.”

“I know.”

“We’ve been together for five years then.”

“I think so. I don’t want to just count these years as building too something. We’ve always been something. My heart as been yours since you walked into my party.”

“I, yeah okay.”

“But I knew I loved you at graduation.”

“I knew I loved you at graduation too.”

“So, five years, because I’ve loved you for that long.” Taehyung brings a hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking the apples tenderly.

“Me too,” You whisper.

He smiles. “Five down, a lifetime to go,” Taehyung leans in, lips capturing yours.

“You and me, loverboy,” You smile, forehead resting against his.

“Baby, me and you.”

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