#but for the sake of this being just only mildly overwhelming im leaving them out rn

[woolydemon]

*slides over here and fucking trips n lands on my face.* hey any fun little facts about ur characters

oh, uh, haha ok I guess I'll talk abt. Wally (he/they pronouns for him)

(long-ish blurb under the cut. and more doodles)

This is Wallace, or Wally for short ! He's a whole piece of work of their own, both figuratively and literally as they are an artificial intelligence that gained sentience lol. He is a prototype of a line of robotic assistants, which never worked out bc Wally ended up killing their creators and is unable to be detained no matter how much ppl try to <3

(sorry this was the best way i could format this)

He used to just be rlly curious about the world he came into, but now he's filled with an unbridled anger and fury with everything they do know. They specifically have a distinct disdain for being perceived by others, to be interpreted based on just how they look or what they are. Which y'know, Is impossible to prevent happening ever so the fact he is unable to cope with this fact is. not great. It ends up with him lashing out against everything with extreme violence & aggression (he in fact spends his time prowling around in the desert & attacking anything that approaches him)

They were initially designed to be pleasing and comforting, with warm colors and a friendly face (not rlly shown in these sketches but he has bright orange hair). Their voice originally was a softer friendly voice too. But he wasn't rlly about that, so he actually distorts his voice along with downloading many different tts voices for him to use. He however really does love his body, he just hates the perception of it being feminine & also often compels ppl to objectify him (which makes him uncomfortable as he is sex repulsed).

But he refuses to change how he looks beyond the occasional use of robot parts like the robot claw arm pictured in some of these doodles (all these parts stolen from other robots btw) but that's only for attacking. Again, he genuinely likes how he looks. It's one of the few things that makes him happy

Of course, he could outlive humanity and everything else on an Earth that's already falling apart (btw forgot to mention this takes place in an apocalyptic future), festering with bitterness and lashing out until there's nothing he can lash out at against anymore. Or he could, I dunno, accidentally be forced to cooperate with fellow robots and learn how to process his emotions in healthier ways and be able to let go of his anger for things he can't control,,,,,,,,, haha imagine that (that's the main plot of the story he takes place in lol)

[vintagesewingmachine]

Nessian Fic- Part 2/2

Part two, as I promised. @aelinashgalathynius  @highlady-kat @illyrianbastards  @wearestarseternal

Days had passed since That Night of Extreme Awkwardness. Nesta had done laundry, quietly returned Cassian’s shirt (which he had the decency to never mention again), and had semi-avoided Cassian. Her desire to be around him battled with the awkwardness and confusion of her feelings. Today, she had decided to go with Cassian to train. 

    Nesta huffed as she pulled on her Illyrian fighting leathers. She buckled the straps and belts and collected the weapons Cassian had given her to put in their sheaths. She had already eaten breakfast with her bestie, which was full of smiles and laughter and easy companionship.

    Yeah right. 

    No, her breakfast with Cassian had been tense and awkward and full of internal cringing on what she was sure was both sides. Just like most of their interactions these days. 

Fan-freaking-tastic. 

    At least she was pretty sure he didn’t completely hate her. Yeah, she was pretty sure. She thought. Sighing, she finished with getting her gear on and jogged down the stairs. Cassian was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. She slowed to a walk. Nesta noticed that he was watching her hips as she stalked towards him. 

     The corner of her mouth pulled up into a little smirk. When he saw this smirk, his brows bunched together and he said gruffly, “Let’s go.”  

    He turned towards the door and she scowled at his back. 

*****

Cassian looked at the sun. It was a little past dawn. They weren’t going to be very late. But Nesta didn’t know that. He cast a sly glance at her and saw a scowl. It made him smirk. He had noticed she had noticed him noticing her. Nesta... Had been different. More like the Nesta he had know before the war, but still a bit different. Or maybe he was just seeing her more clearly. But either way, the feelings he had worked so hard to beat down were growing like Cauldron-cursed weeds. 

“We are going to be late,” he announced. 

Nesta looked at him, mildly surprised. “Are you sure?”

He nodded confidently. “We should fly.”

     She narrowed her eyes at him, but approached, albeit warily. He forbade his eyes from travelling up her leather-clad body. It was hard.  Especially when he suspected she was purposely swaying her hips. Wanting to end this slow torture, he stepped forward and scooped her up, bridal style. 

“Hold on,” was his warning before taking off into the sky.

*****

Nesta was pretty sure that they weren’t late. But she wasn’t going to be the one to call him out on his crap and miss the opportunity to fly. Being held by Cassian aside, she wanted wings to fly. She felt so free in the air, and her problems seemed as small and insignificant as an ants’ when she glimpsed just how big the world really was. Every time she flew it sent a thrill like no other through her. Again, being held by Cassian had nothing to do with her love of flying. 

That was a completely different thrill. 

     She instinctively tightened her grip on him when he took off, great wings thundering in her ears and vibrating through her body. His body was warm and solid, and his scent... It made her feel more alive than ever. That near-constant pull in her abdomen intensified, as if tugging her even closer to him. She tried to ignore it by watching the ground grow smaller and smaller. It was vertigo-inducing. And distracting enough from the large male currently holding her. 

Thud. She thought about how magnificent his wings were. 

Thud. She thought about how many times he’d almost lost them. 

Thud. She looked up at the face she had unknowingly memorized.

Thud. She thought about the smaller thuds inside their chests, and how they seemed to be in sync.

Thud. She grabbed his head and kissed him. 

*****

One minute he was flying semi-normally, distantly noticing Nesta looking at him strangely. 

The next, his head was wrenched to the side and soft, warm lips were being pressed against his. His senses were overwhelmed with Nesta.  His wings faltered and they jolted to the right, dropping abruptly as he jerked his head back to stare at her, utterly shocked. 

“What the hell?!” Cassian shouted. He desperately flapped his wings, trying to level out, but his mind was whirling and Nesta was frozen in mortification so it wasn’t working very well. You can imagine. Because Nesta fucking Archeron had just kissed him. 

What the hell?!

    He couldnt concentrate on flying, not with the way Nesta was staring at him. Her face was turning cherry red and her eyes were wide and filled with such conflicting emotions he couldn’t think straight. 

 Or fly straight. (cough unfortunately for some males he settled for being straight cough)

And right now he regretted being straight in the first place.

     They were losing altitude. Fast. And somehow his wings were out of sync and basically everything was a tangled mess both mentally and physically because odds were with the ground approaching like that and his wings screwy they were going to die. Nesta dug her nails into his flesh and that certainly didn't help anything. And of course because the universe hated them a strong gust of wind came out of literally no where to spin him around until they were legit tumbling out of the sky. 

How to describe this moment? Delightful? Lovely?

Not even remotely, sorry. It was absolutely terrifying.

Fan-freaking-tastic. 

    Cassian yelled in pain as his wing twisted and Nesta’s nails drew blood from his neck. His wings strained to right them, but it was too late. They crashed through the branches, and searing pain followed the sharp ends of the sticks. It wasn't until now he remembered that he had siphons. For Cauldron’s sake he had siphons. What an idiot. 

     A shield of red flared around them and their fall came to an abrupt end as they hit the ground. He couldn't feel any major injuries, on him or Nesta thanks to his last second remembering. 

     Cauldron he was an idiot. 

    That was his last thought before he rolled over and kissed Nesta. 

*****

Adrenaline from the terrifying fall coursed through her veins, and it felt like she was burning as Cassian rolled over top of her and kissed her. He supported his weight on a hand planted beside her head. She wrapped her arms around his neck once again and pulled herself up closer to him. Nesta had never felt this before. Her experiences with those nameless males had been sloppy and unsatisfying. 

     This was full of heat and fire, a passion that burned away all of those times with those other males. 

    Her heart hammered in her chest, and everything - her mind, her hair, her leathers- was a mess from the fall and now the exhilaration of the fact that Cassian was kissing her. Her original mortification at his initial rejection was forgotten, and all that mattered was that he was here. With her. Wild, untamed emotions consumed her until she no longer felt like Nesta Archeron, but felt more like herself than ever before. She felt complete. In a way that she had never thought she could feel. It was as if her entire existence had been building up to this moment.

    The thought was too much. 

    She burst into hysterical laughter, forcing her to break of the kiss. Cassian looked down at her for a moment before also breaking into laughter. He collapsed beside her and laughed with her. His large, rough hand grabbed hers and together they lie on the forest floor where they had landed, and laughed. Laughed for the first time in months. Longer for Nesta. They laughed and laughed and laughed until their stomachs ached and tears streamed down their faces.   

*****

They laid there for hours. Staring at the sky, holding hands and talking. Nesta quietly struggled to put into words her feelings since the war, to get Cassian to understand. Once she had started crying, Cassian had tenderly kissed her, and murmured that he did. He understood. That, as you may guess, had made her cry harder. 

     Now, Cassian paused their lazy kisses and just stared down at her, eyes full of emotion. 

     “What is it?” Nesta asked softly. 

     “Nesta.” His voice was choked. “I love you.”

     She scrunched her forehead. “I know.” 

     “Do you...” He hesitated. “Do you love me too?”

     She blinked. All of this, and he still wasn't sure? How stupid could he be? She frowned. “Of course I love you, you brute.” At least, thats the only answer she could come up with for how she felt. And it felt right as she said it. A relief to say it out loud. 

     Happiness filled his hazel eyes before it was tempered by uncertainty. “Nesta...”

    Tired of his avoidance of whatever he clearly wanted to say, she snapped, “What? What are you trying to say?”

   “We are mates.”

    The world slowed. Everything seemed to hold its breath. She was shocked. But was she really? Come on. Looking back on everything, Nesta realized it was so obvious. She felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner. Unable to express herself with words, she pulled him down for another kiss. Then she said against his lips, “Let’s go home.”

*****

And I’ll leave what happens at home after she gives him food to your own imagination, because theres no way in hell I’m going to write smut. But I hope that was a satisfying ending. I certainly liked it. Thanks for reading :)

also if you want more fics for other ships, you can ask me. Im down for suggestions

Smiles, Holly ;)

[magic-magpie]

Say You Love Me

Hey, so I wrote a lil’ UsUk oneshot. ^^ You can find it (and my other fanfics) on my Fanfiction account - AA Addict. Although, I did make that account when I was eleven meaning that most of its content is actual trash. I did a review of my first ever fanfic... I might post it here. I’m good at cringe reviews, but only when the cringe is my own cringe.

It’s 4,304 words, just to let ya know.

“Hey, Artie?”

“Hm?” 

“I love you.” 

“Likewise.” 

“...Aren’t you ever gonna say it back?” 

Arthur slumped down into his chair, head in hands. Alfred F. Jones, his American boyfriend, had just stormed out of the apartment after an argument, leaving it feeling rather large, empty, and quiet. 

It was an argument over the stupidest of things. Honestly, who cared if Arthur had never uttered the words ‘I love you’? 

Alfred did, apparently. And to an extent, so did Arthur. 

The first time Alfred had declared his love was five months ago, after four months of dating. They had just come back from dinner at a swish restaurant, and after a round of sweet sex Alfred had blurted it out – ‘I think I love you’. He’d blushed, laid his head on Arthur’s chest so that they weren’t maintaining eye contact, then said in a bit of a whisper, ‘Actually, I definitely love you’. Arthur remembered feeling like he was higher than Cloud Nine, a giddy sensation arising within him and his heart pounding a million beats per minute. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was fairly certain he had abandonment issues (probably due to his past relationships), and hearing Alfred proclaim his love had given him full assurance that Alfred was the one. 

At that point, Arthur definitely loved Alfred too. He was happiest when with him, not to mention he felt safe and secure, even when they were doing completely wild activities such as skydiving and bungee-jumping. However, he just couldn’t say it. The words got stuck in his throat every time he tried to say them, he choked on them, his lips refused to allow them to form. He wanted so badly to say it, but failed whenever he tried. And so he only said words akin to ‘likewise’ in response to Alfred’s frequent declarations of love. He felt terrible whenever he did so, for Alfred’s sunny disposition would always become slightly clouded, but what could he do? Alfred had seemed to understand, until now. 

“Why do I need to say it back? I’m sure you understand what I mean perfectly.” 

“I DO, but it’d still be nice to hear you say it.” 

“It’d be nice to hear me say a lot of things, but I won’t say them, will I?” 

“Come on! What’s so bad about saying ‘I love you’?!” 

“Nothing’s BAD about saying it, I just don’t want to!” 

“...You don’t want to?” 

“Exactly. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish this embroidery.” 

“Say it.” 

“For God’s sake Alfred!” 

“Say it!” 

“No, alright?” 

“Just say it, PLEASE! It’s not HARD!” 

“It is bloody well hard, I’ll have you know!” 

“It’s not hard to say the truth, Arthur! Unless it’s-” 

“You know perfectly well that it’s the truth, Alfred, so don’t even go there.” 

“Then SAY IT!” 

“Life’s not Hollywood, Alfred! We don’t need to give extravagant declarations of love in order to show that it’s there!” 

“Come on, just SAY it! For me, then! Say it for the Hollywood sap who’s stuck by you!” 

“You don’t get to order me to say anything, git. I don’t want to say it, so get that through your thick skull.” 

“...Fine. Later, loser.” 

“WHERE are you going?” 

“Takin’ a walk. Love ya. Even if you don’t return the feeling.” 

Arthur would never forget that expression Alfred had. Disappointment, sadness, anger, all in one. Tears had welled up in his blue eyes. 

The first time either of them had made the other cry. 

He willed himself not to burst into tears, but it was hard. They’d argued before, but never to the extent that either of them had walked out. The last time he’d had a partner walk out on him, they’d split up the next day. The time before that, his partner had cheated on him. And the first time it happened, he’d never seen the man again. He’d never loved any of them the way he loved Alfred, but it had still hurt. 

A wave of panic crashed down on him. What if Alfred did the same? 

No, Alfred couldn’t possibly leave him. He’d said ‘I love you’, for crying out loud! And even when walking out he’d reiterated it! There was no way Alfred would break up with him. 

Right? 

Horrible, terrible images flashed through his mind; Alfred chatting up some bloke at the pub, taking him to a sleazy motel, hands that caressed Arthur’s body tugging at the other man’s belt instead; Alfred deleting all the sneaky pictures he’d taken of Arthur and sending him a break-up text; Alfred never contacting him again; the worst image, however, had to be that awful, ghastly one where Alfred, in his anger and despair, ran out onto the road without looking both left and right and was thrown into the air like a rag doll by a speeding car, dead before he hit the ground. 

And that was the image that wouldn’t leave his mind. 

Taken over by an overwhelming sense of fear, he reached for his phone and brought up Alfred’s number. 

-Alfred? 

-Are you there? 

He waited with bated breath, his heart in his mouth. Deep down he knew it was stupid to be worrying like this, but there was a minute chance of his imagination becoming reality. 

“Come on, reply...” he willed. Arthur didn’t have an iPhone, meaning that he didn’t know whether Alfred was typing or not, so he just hoped against hope that Alfred was either typing, or hadn’t checked his phone. 

Suddenly, his notification tone rang out and the screen lit up, informing him that Alfred had responded. Relief washed all over him. Alfred was safe. He opened the text. 

-Yeah 

His heart sank a little. None of those blasted emoticons or developed replies characteristic of Alfred. 

-Good. Don’t die. 

Alfred’s response came a couple of seconds later, like he was eagerly awaiting each text too. 

-Er what 

-You heard me. Don’t bloody die. 

-Hella random much 

-Out of context, more like. 

-Can i get context 

-Wait im suppoed t b mad at u 

-Its hard 

-How dya doit 

Arthur was trying to respond with ‘Look, I’m sorry, come back home and we’ll make up, how about that? I’ll take you to McDonalds too, if you want.’, but his insistence at texting with brilliant spelling, grammar, and diction meant Alfred could get his texts in much quicker. 

-Ok imma stop txtinf now 

-Off to b mad 

-Love ya bye 

Arthur quickly pressed send, hoping that Alfred wouldn’t be able to resist texting him back, but it was no use. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen, and before he knew it he’d been staring at the screen for half an hour. 

He wasn’t texting back. 

Slumping back down into his chair, he was mildly surprised to find that his cheeks were wet with tears. Fuck, that’s not supposed to happen. He furiously wiped them away then glared at his phone. Just who the hell did Alfred think he was, reducing him to blasted tears? 

But I made him cry first. Isn’t payback grand? 

God, Arthur’s anger wasn’t even justified. It was confusing, sitting there seething and upset when he had no cause to be. He was the one who refused to tell Alfred that he loved him. Alfred made sure that he said the three words at least once each day, usually accompanied by a sweet, chaste kiss. He had every right to be irritated with Arthur, even if Arthur hated it. Stupid Hollywood sap. 

“That’s it!” Arthur cried out loud, struck by an insane yet brilliant idea. If he wants a Hollywood declaration, he’ll get a Hollywood declaration! The idea was cheesy, over-the-top, and stupid, just how Alfred liked it. 

He jumped out of his chair, strode out of the living room, snatched his keys up, exited his apartment and slammed the door shut a little too hard, got the lift down, marched through the doors, unlocked his sleek black car, and drove. It was late (the time had just gone nine), but he figured Tesco would be open – if the superstore upheld its Open 24/7 policy, that is. He was also incredibly lucky that Valentines Day had been a week ago; there would’ve been no chance of finding these decorations had it been any other time of the year. 

Arthur looked around the room, satisfied. Helium heart balloons were dotted around his living room, all bearing some variation of the three words Arthur had such trouble saying. He’d pinned up banners reading ‘I love you’ over the sofa and television, and had sprinkled pink confetti hearts everywhere (some had got stuck in his hair, much to his chagrin). On the dinner table he’d put a candelabra with new red candles, and laid out the table in a manner fit for the Queen. 

It made him cringe, but so did Hollywood. 

The oven pinged, and Arthur checked out his lamb roast. He frowned; the instructions had said to roast it for an hour after lowering the temperature, but it looked far too raw – he wouldn’t be surprised if it started bleating right there. Furthermore, the potatoes looked undercooked. Honestly, he thought, shoving the cookbook back into his cupboard irritably, who on Earth allowed this travesty to be published? 

Letting it cook for a while longer, Arthur went back into the living room and collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. Decorating was no small feat, and it turned out that Tesco hadn’t had any Valentines Day decorations, meaning that he’d had to go drive to every other store until he finally found some. Cooking also took effort, although he didn’t dislike it. No, the most exhausting thing of that night was being distressed. The number of times he’d checked his phone in the vain hope that Alfred had tried to contact him was innumerable, and each time had left him a little bit sadder. 

Arthur checked the clock – it was midnight. And Alfred still wasn’t back.

Suppressing the rising paranoia, he busied himself by going over what he’d say to Alfred. First came the apology, of course. Then came the explanation for why he had so much trouble saying the words. And then, finally, he’d say it. 

Simple. Theoretically. 

Time ticked on, and there was still no sign of Alfred. All he could do was hope that Alfred was planning on coming home and remaining his boyfriend. 

He switched the television on and searched through the channels whilst he waited. He flicked past hospital dramas, crime shows, teleshopping, bad films, all of which Arthur abhorred. Not bothered enough to put a film in himself, he just kept it on a Hollywood romance. If he remembered correctly, Alfred and himself had seen it before. They’d been huddled on the sofa sharing a blanket and popcorn, Alfred resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder and periodically lifting it to give Arthur an affronted look as Arthur delivered his scathing commentary on the vapid film. And now, as he watched the movie by himself, it was just as dull and uninteresting. 

So dull, in fact, that he could feel his eyes closing. No, stay awake, idiot. He tried to force his eyes open, but they kept battling against him until he finally surrendered to the call of slumber. 

Alfred had better be here when I wake up. 

“Artie?” 

Something was shaking him. 

“Artie, I’m back.” 

This something sounded nice, if irritating. He tried to push it away, but he was too sleepy to put any sort of effort into it. 

“I brought McDonalds, if you haven’t eaten.” 

The thing shaking him sounded familiar. The accent, there was something about the accent. It didn’t sound English. More like... 

“...Alfred?” 

“Yep, it’s me.” Alfred chuckled. His eyes were shut and he was groggy, but he sensed Alfred was close. 

Wait. 

Alfred was back.

All exhaustion forgotten, he shot up so he was standing and pulled Alfred into a crushing hug, arms wrapped tightly around his body. Relief flooded through his veins as Alfred reciprocated, lacking none of the usual warmth. 

“Thank God,” Arthur breathed. He then kissed him hard, keeping their bodies pressed together and swaying on the spot. Alfred tasted of salt and ketchup, weirdly enough, but Arthur didn’t care and just kept kissing him, loving the feel of Alfred’s lips on his, loving how they moved against his in such a way that turned him to jelly, loving how Alfred kissed him with such devotion and love – loving Alfred. 

“Hah,” Alfred said once they broke apart for air, “Missed me?” 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Arthur replied snippily. Now that the relief and joy of Alfred’s return had sunk in, he was left with the anger of Alfred’s departure. “You can’t just walk out on me!” 

“I brought McDonalds back, so it doesn’t matter, eh?” Alfred said, grinning nervously. “Though it does smell like you’ve cooked dinner...” 

Arthur blanched. “Shit, the dinner.” 

He took out the charred lamb roast whilst Alfred wafted away the smoke, and set the burnt dinner down onto the countertop. Alfred gave a low whistle. 

“How long did ya leave that in?” 

“What time is it?” 

“Half two.” 

“Three hours! I knew I shouldn’t have slept,” Arthur said bitterly. 

“Hey, cheer up, it’s just as burnt as all your other stuff!” Alfred teased, grinning when Arthur shoved him. 

“Shut up, I’m still mad at you.” 

“Yeah, about that – how do you even do the angry thing? I tried, and all that ended up happening was me hiding out in McDonalds crying my eyes out wanting to come back. I got free food though, so that’s something. I guess I was angry at you, but not in the way that you do it... You get angry,” Alfred said, laughing slightly. 

“You were crying?” Arthur said, stricken. 

“Crap. Er, maybe?” Alfred answered sheepishly. 

“Because of me.” 

“I guess...” Alfred sounded rather reluctant to admit it. Arthur sighed. What was he doing, being angry at Alfred? 

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of Alfred’s face. “I’m not a very decent person, am I?” 

“No, you are,” Alfred said immediately. Arthur smiled. 

“Rhetoric, Alfred. Anyway, you shouldn’t be trying to make me feel better – I should be working to make you okay.” 

“Is that what all those decorations were about?” 

“Um,” Arthur said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “Yeah. Cringey Hollywood crap and all.” 

“Wait, what? Hollywood?” Alfred looked rather confused. 

“Yeah, Hollywood. I thought I’d do something Hollywood-style for you, but the dinner screwed up and I slept, so I’ve forgotten my speech,” Arthur said. “Apologies.” 

“Your... Speech?” 

“I prepared a speech for when you came home. One with explanations and apologies and all that.” 

“Dude,” Alfred said, shaking his head emphatically, “I don’t want a speech. All I want is for you to say you love me, honestly and easily and stuff.” 

Alfred was looking at him with those big blue eyes Arthur adored so much - to this day he couldn’t pinpoint what one shade of blue they were. He’d fallen for Alfred a year ago, and ever since then he’d had a fascination with shades of blue. Ever since then, Alfred’s eyes had held all the stars of the universe �� the most beautiful, wondrous eyes he’d ever seen. His past boyfriends’ eyes paled in comparison. Arthur had since grown to love every single part of Alfred, both physical and emotional. The way Alfred’s hair caught the sunlight, how Alfred would always try to cheer him up if he was feeling down, Alfred’s intoxicating, infectious laugh... He’d fallen in love with it all. 

Just TELL him so! 

“Alright,” Arthur said, and took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you.” 

Alfred F. Jones, the best boyfriend he’d ever had by far, was looking at him expectantly, a little encouraging smile on his face. Arthur fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, and forced himself to maintain eye contact. It’d be easier to turn away and mutter it, but after everything that had happened, saying it to Alfred’s face was best. 

“I,” he swallowed, suddenly feeling very hot and slightly uncomfortable. Come on, spit it out! “Alfred, I – I lo –“ Deep breath.  

“I love you.” 

He barely had time to see Alfred’s mouth stretch into a huge smile before he was being kissed like he’d never been kissed before. Fuelled by euphoria, Alfred and Arthur were kissing each other hard, Arthur’s hands fisted in Alfred’s hair and Alfred’s arms pulled Arthur close until their bodies were flush against one another. He felt a wonderful dizzying sensation when Alfred parted his lips, eagerly parting his own. Their mouths moved together and tongues worked perfectly to make the other weak at the knees, serving another reminder as to how perfect they were for one another. As they kissed, three words were repeating over and over in his mind – I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you. 

After too short a time they were forced to break apart to breathe, but they stayed in the close embrace, Arthur now resting his head on Alfred’s shoulder and Alfred resting his on Arthur’s head. He still felt a little giddy, and... Oddly liberated? Like he’d been pulled out of the crushing depths of the ocean and could breathe freely again. 

“See, it wasn’t difficult!” Alfred said happily. 

“No, I suppose not... It felt nice, actually,” Arthur said. “I had so much trouble with it because... Well, I haven’t said it before.” 

“Seriously?” He sounded surprised, for some reason. Arthur nodded. 

“Well, yes. I can’t even remember a time I said it before today, platonically or otherwise.” 

“But you’ve had loads of boyfriends before me!” 

“Three hardly counts as loads, Alfred. Besides, I – I never loved them like I love you. They were fun for a while, but... I suppose they were right to leave me. I don’t think they were as right for me as you are. Plus,” he smiled a little, “Their departure meant your arrival. And I’d much rather have you, dear.” 

“You have no idea how happy I am right now, dude,” Alfred said, and gently prised Arthur off him. “Like, seriously. Just wait here, alright? Or, er...” He looked around at the messy kitchen, “Go into the living room, actually.” 

Puzzled, Arthur asked, “What are you doing?” 

Alfred was already hurrying out of the kitchen and up the stairs, but he excitedly yelled, “Something I’ve been waiting for this day to do!” 

Thoroughly confused, Arthur made his way into the living room where all the sickening heart decorations were. Honestly, he thought, all this fuss and drama over three little simple words. He remembered the way Alfred’s face lit up when he said I love you. His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled like they contained all the stars of the galaxies. 

Alfred burst into the room with a huge grin on his face and his arms behind his back. 

“What’re you hiding?” 

“You’ll find out in a bit.” Alfred winked. He shoved whatever was in his hands into his pocket and stepped closer to Arthur, put his hands on either side of his waist, thumbs gently stroking him. 

“I’ve, er, kinda been waiting for you to say that. Since, like, three months ago. I didn’t pressure you into saying it, did I?” he said, expression oddly solemn. Arthur shook his head firmly. 

“Alfred, do you honestly think I’d do something I didn’t want to just because you went out in a huff? I always wanted to say it, I just... Needed a little push, I guess,” Arthur assured. Alfred gave a little relieved smile. 

“Cool. ‘Cause, y’know. I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and then in the afterlife too. We can ghost-kiss and haunt all those homophobes and stuff and just be that super-awesome couple that everyone’s jelly over and, y’know, cool stuff like that.” 

“Why do you sound so nervous?” Arthur chuckled.  

“You want that too, right?” 

“Of course, love. I love you. And, for the record, I have a sneaky suspicion that one of my co-workers is envious of our relationship.” 

“Cool.” Alfred closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if readying himself for something. Arthur’s eyes widened and he held his breath as Alfred got down onto one knee and took out a small blue velvet box. 

“Are you-“ 

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful silver ring with a sparkling gemstone in its centre – the exact colour of Alfred’s eyes, he noted. Arthur stared at the ring, then at Alfred, not quite believing what he was seeing. 

“Remember when we went to that big fancy mall three months ago – I went off to buy something and you bought your new headphones? Well, I bought this. I was – I was waiting for the day you’d say ‘I love you’ to propose, ‘cause I wanted to make sure you loved me back, and, well,” he gave a little nervous laugh, “You do.” 

Arthur was still speechless, so Alfred continued. 

“I – I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Being with you, it’s just... I’m the happiest when I’m with you. I know we haven’t been dating for as long as other couples, and I totally understand if you say no, but I think we’re both confident enough that no one’s better for us than the other. I could list the reasons we’re the best couple, but I’d be here a long time so I won’t. But I will say that you’re my favourite person, and I know you feel the same about me. So, I guess I should say the actual words. 

“Arthur, will you marry me?” 

Arthur was still in shock-mode. Was this happening? It had to be a dream, but there was no way it could be a dream, it was all too wonderfully real, too splendidly vivid. Alfred was actually proposing to him! Alfred actually wanted to spend his entire life with him! 

“Those tears are happy tears, right?” Alfred said. 

Alfred you fucking perfect idiot. 

“Of course I bloody will!” Arthur cried, bending down himself to tackle Alfred into a gleeful hug. Alfred returned it with equal fervour and soon the two were on the floor, hugging and laughing for all they were worth. Arthur kissed him and knew that nobody else’s lips were suited to him, nobody else could hold him like Alfred did, nobody else could make him feel like life was perfect. 

“Let’s put the ring on ya, then!” Alfred said, sitting up and picking up the small box. He took out the ring and slipped it onto Arthur’s finger. Arthur held it out so that it sparkled in the light, loving the way it looked incredibly like Alfred’s eyes (only Alfred’s were prettier). 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“The jewel’s that paraíba tourmaline you told me about once, d’ya remember? You said it looked exactly like my eyes.” 

Arthur blinked and peered at the stone. “Oh, so it is!”  

“I thought I’d give you one that looked like my eyes, and I got one for myself that looked like yours. So, y’know, it’s all that romantic ‘we’ve always got a little part of the other with us’ stuff.” 

“Where’s yours?” Arthur wanted Alfred to wear his. 

“Oh, it’s, ah, gimme a second...” he foraged around in his pocket and extracted another box – green velvet this time. 

“Here, let me put it on you,” Arthur said eagerly. He took the box and opened it to see a silver band similar to his own, but with a shiny, smooth jade in the centre. Arthur’s breath hitched. 

“Do – do you truly think my eyes look this splendid?”

Alfred planted a chaste kiss on his lips and rested his forehead against Arthur’s, looking directly into his eyes. “Well, I actually think your eyes are better, but this was the prettiest green gem I could find,” he said softly. 

“Honestly,” he scoffed, trying to hide the fact that he felt all mushy and warm and fluttery inside. Hands shaking slightly, he took the delicate ring out of the box, held Alfred’s hand in his own and slipped the ring onto his finger. 

“Beautiful,” Arthur murmured. He put his own ringed hand next to Alfred’s, admiring them. 

Engaged. 

They were engaged. 

Arthur looked up excitedly. “We’re going to get married!” 

“I know, right?!” Alfred squealed back. “We’ll have to start handing out invites!“ 

“And choosing a cake!” 

“And getting tuxes!” 

“And finding a venue!” 

“And planning the decorations!” 

“Oh, decorations! We have to have a chandelier!” 

“And a chocolate fountain!” 

“What about an actual bloody huge fountain!” 

“Ohmigod yes, and don’t forget streamers!” 

“Confetti!” 

“Banners!” 

“Orchestra!” 

“Lava!” 

Arthur spluttered. “Lava?!” 

“I got really excited and said the first word that came to my head, don’t blame me!” Alfred laughed. 

“No but, making the floor lava would be rather hilarious, don’t you think? And who else would be able to say that they got married on actual molten lava?” Arthur said, grinning. 

“If you’re suggesting that we get married in a volcano, then I am one-hundred-and-forty-seven percent behind you.” 

“Well, that’s the venue sorted, then.” 

They looked at each other, and all of a sudden they were laughing until their sides hurt, laughing in the way that no one else could make them laugh. Alfred’s obnoxious laugh was loud, raucous, and infectious – just the way Arthur liked it.

When they finally stopped laughing, Alfred leant against Arthur and gave a small, content sigh. Arthur responded by putting his arm around him and stroking his hair softly. He still couldn’t believe his luck. He, Arthur Kirkland, was engaged to Alfred Foster Jones. 

“Hey, Alfred?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Artie.”

[4jimin]

DAMN IT u cant just tag and say ull reblob if no one gives u attention............. u da 1 (bc shoving someone against the wall sounds amazing)

…….i can be very persuasive asjdkdj thank you for sending jo, i love youuu !!  (i hope this is okay bc like…..i may or may not have gotten too deep into this so it turned out to be 5 pages long akshdk)

“right to the good parts” prompt list: jikook, “i have you shoved against a wall, but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth." 

canon compliant | gay chicken l well :)“I’m not a coward!” Jimin shouts from his corner of the room.It’s late already and the practice room is mostly covered by shadows, only the lights above the mirror wall being responsible for illuminating the place. “Yes, you are.” Jungkook tilts his head to the side with a smug smirk adorning his lips. Ah, if teasing Park Jimin wasn’t fuel to his veins. He spent the whole day working out and dancing – he was exhausted to the bones –, but just hearing the flustered tone of Jimin’s voice was almost equivalent to a 4 hour nap. Five, if the room was clear enough for Jungkook to see the cute blush creeping the older’s cheeks – like he knew it would – and his lips pursed the way it did everytime he was trying to prove a point. “You know, there is a thin line between being brave and being stupid.” “Exactly.”“Exactly. Me agreeing to go on a rollercoaster that you are in charge of commanding, considering you have no idea how to control a rollercoaster, is just being stupid!”Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Okay. What about bungee jumping, but not with the proper rope?” “No! What the fuck is wrong with you? I care about my life!”Jimin is seating in the darker corner of the room and Jungkook is all the way across from him – back leaning against the cold glass of the mirror. He can’t make out Jimin’s expressions well from so far away in the poorly lit room – but yet, just the tone of Jimin’s voice is enough for Jungkook to be one hundred percent sure about each face he is pulling out along wlth the sentences falling out of his mouth. “That’s what cowards say.” “That’s what logical people say!” “Hyung, just admit it already. I won’t judge you.” Jungkook chuckles at Jimin’s snort. “You fucking brat. You call me coward one more time, and I swear to–”“Okay, okay.” Jungkook tilts his head to the other side, an idea taking shape in his mind, making his lips twitch upwards. “You’ll get the respect I have for you back if–““I don’t need to get any respect back.”“You prove to me you’re not a coward.” They speak at the same time, overlapping each other’s voice. Jimin frowns.“What?” “You heard me. You need to prove.”“I don’t need to do anything.” Jimin crosses his arms, and Jungkook knows he has an stubborn pout on his lips. “But… how do I do that?” The maknae smirks. “Let’s play chicken.”“Let’s play what?” he uncrosses his arms, brows furrowed in confusion.“Chicken.” “What the fuck is that?” Jungkook chuckles, using his hand as an support to get on his feet. “It’s a game.” He starts explaining while walking till where Jimin is seating. “Basically, we need to put one another into nerve-wracking situations. The one to pulls away first lose. Easy.” By the time Jungkook ends talking he is standing before Jimin, an extended hand offered towards him to pull him up. Jimin takes it after a second of hesitation.“Well, the game usually tends to be more dangerous,” Jungkook reiterates, voice significantly lower since Jimin is closer to him now. “But we can make it worth.” He smiles. “You in?”Jimin narrows his eyes. “What kind of shit are you planning to come with?” Jungkook puts his arms behind his back and starts walking away, a playful smile on his voice as he singsongs “Guess you’ll have to pay to see…” he suddenly turns his body back to face Jimin “Or are you going to run away with your tail between your legs?” “I’mma punch you.”“Is that a yes?” he quirks his eyebrows up.“Whatever.” Jimin walks in his direction, stopping some meters away from him. “Go for it.”The game starts rather lamely, Jimin would say. The most Jungkook had done in three rounds was putting his sweaty armpit dangerously close to Jimin’s face – to which Jimin didn’t even flinch, for sake of information, just grimaced and called him a ‘gross pig’ under his breath (that was happily caged inside his lungs, because he was most definitely not smelling the stink under Jungkook’s arms, thank you very much). “Is that all you got?” Jimin teases, getting closer, holding back his laugh at Jungkook’s wide eyes. He keeps the straight face, taking small steps forward and pushing Jungkook backwards with him until his back hits the wall. He lowers down his gaze to Jungkook’s throat just in time to catch him gulping and smiles in victory. Jungkook is about to overcome his thundering heart and form a sentence, when Jimin kneels down before him and Jungkook’s eyes go wide. “H-hyung?” Jimin smirks, not breaking eye contact for a second, and slowly extends his left arm to the side, grabbing Jungkook’s phone on the floor. He gets up on his feet to face a very confused – and mildly breathless, Jimin proudly realizes – maknae. “Here. Text Namjoon-hyung and say: hyung, I think I’m im love with you.” “What?!” Jungkook almost chokes.Jimin shrugs, a nonchalantly smirk dwelling in the corner of his lips. “That’s me teaching you how the real game is meant to be played. Go for it, my brave boy.” He whispers, bitting down his bottom lip to contain a victory smile.But against all expectations, Jungkook does send the message, rendering Jimin speechless for a second or two. “Surprised?” he asks, voice lower than Jimin is used to listening. Jungkook is tall. Very tall, Jimin remembers, as he has to slightly tilt his head back to properly look at his face. Also, Jungkook’s eyes are shining. Despite from all the shadows trying to cover his features, his eyes are shining with a glow Jimin doesn’t quite recognize. It settles an unfamiliar restlessness on his muscles. “Good to know we’re now playing dirty.” Jungkook hums and Jimin feels his hot breath hitting his lips. His heart pace increases for no apparent – or logical – reason, and his fingertips tingle with unknown anticipation. “It’s my turn.” Jimin barely has time to utter a word before his shoulders are being grabbed and his back is being roughly slammed against the wall, all oxygen violently punched out of his lungs. He looks up, confusion molding his features, but he doesn’t find the usual innocence he so much adores in Jungkook’s eyes. He finds a pair of dark irises and dilated pupils staring back at him, the hint of an eerie lust hidden in the way he licks his lips and lowers his eyes to Jimin’s mouth. Jimin fists the front of his tshirt to draw his attention back.“W-what–“However, all his senses shut down when Jungkook’s cold fingers surges on the sharp bulge of his hipbone, thumbs caressing the skin ever so slowly. Jimin’s eyes fall closed and his breath hitches, every allusion of sentence menacing to be said, dying on his throat. He can feel his chest constricting in an oddly pleasurable arousal when Jungkook drags his hands up, delineating the curve of his waist with his palms, and then feeling the ledge of his abs with his fingertips, the touch leaving heat traces all over his skin. Jungkook’s hot air enters his mouth and that’s when Jimin realizes he’s been holding his own back.“That’s me teaching you how the real game is meant to be played.” The younger’s reuse of his words reaches his ears at the same time he opens his eyes, just to be welcomed with the most annoyingly attractive smirk he has ever faced. Jimin wants to punch it away. He raises his chin just the slightest bit up, a sudden desire to win washing all over him and pooling on his stomach with a restlessness that burns and sends heat shooting up his spine – swallowing all the nervousness to the tip, and replacing it with some thing Jimin is not so sure about wanting to figure out. Jungkook can’t seem to stop staring at his lips. Jimin watches his face with half lided eyes and a heart beating on his throat. “Then I guess you should try harder.” His words resound through a soft murmur lost in the silence of the room, when he takes Jungkook’s neck on his hands and pulls it down to be met with his lips halfway. The younger’s skin is cold, but Jimin warms it with his tongue and lips, sucking muscle and flesh hard enough to hear Jungkook deeply inhaling a sharp breath. His fingers are digging into Jimin’s hips, and Jimin feels nails when he drags his lips up, hot breath hitting the wet mark of saliva he has left behind, making Jungkook shiver. He noses his way up the younger’s neck, tangling his fingers on his hair and softly kissing every inch of exposed skin he’s met until he reaches Jungkook’s ear. He uses his teeth to scratch the lobe with the most of delicacy he possesses, so he can whisper.“Your turn.” Jungkook is heavily breathing with closed eyes, Jimin realizes when he pulls back to face the boy. He bites back a proud smile.The younger boy doesn’t flinch or move for the next ten seconds, which gets Jimin tiptoeing his way up to face him on the same height level. He is about to pull his best smug of victory along with a cheesy made up phrase to annoy the shit out of Jeon Jungkook, when Jungkook suddenly presses his body harder against Jimin’s, supporting his weight with an elbow resting by the side of the older’s head. Jungkook sees the sea of different brown hues staring back at him through wide eyes, closer than ever – and to be honest, he wants nothing more than to dive into them, to drown in its depth and be overwhelmed by its intensity. He wants so much it’s starting to hurt.“Hyung.” He warns, voice rough. “I’m not gonna lose.” Jimin blinks, eyelashes heavy with expectation, hands tightening around the fabric of Jungkook’s tshirt.“Me neither.” Jungkook leans closer slowly, Jimin almost feels teased – on the verge of having a cardiac arrest from how fast his heart has been beating for the past minutes. His eyes flutter closed when he feels the tip of Jungkook’s nose touching his. His lips are burning somehow, yelling to be kissed – the smell of the younger’s skin useful as no help to calm down his stomach. How can he smell good after hours of practice? Or maybe he doesn’t and Jimin is just crazy. Yes. He probably is. Completely insane. And why isn’t Jungkook’s lips glued to his already?He is about to open his eyes to understand what the hell is going on when ge feels the wetness of Jungkook’s mouth on his jawline. It’s soft and tender, and it makes him dizzy to the fingertips, because– isn’t that game supposed to be nerve-wracking and rough? Why is he feeling loved?Jimin turns his head to the other side unconsciously, so Jungkook trails the line of his sharp jawline with his lips, holding harder on his bare waist beneath the tshirt and pulling his body closer to his, craving the warmth that his skin exhales. Jimin’s chest is rosing up and down repeatedly, but it’s when Jungkook lighly suck at the skin right below his ear that Jimin moans. And something twitches inside Jungkook’s chest. He nips at the flesh by the side of his neck as a test, just to hear the same sound crawling out of Jimin’s throat again – low and needy. So he opens his mouth and sucks for real this time, rough, scratching his teeth softly on the skin when he lets go, Jimin’s breath hitching inciting him to go further.Jungkook hears his own heart beating on his ears, and feels both his and Jimin’s beating on his chest – but he is sure his nearly stops when Jimin whines and presses his crotch against his thigh, the stimulus shooting white pleasure to the tip of his stomach and blankness to the back of his eyes.Fuck.Jungkook takes a hand off Jimin’s waist and grabs his hair, pulling it back to have full acess to his neck. He doesn’t lose a second, a burning desire running through his veins and making him want to taste every single inch of Park Jimin’s body, every single inch of skin. He bites down and sucks roughly, Jimin groaning breathlessly with firm hands clutching his shoulders. He feels driven to the edge, none of that being enough and still being too fucking much. Jimin’s lightheaded already, lips falling open within every moan his body forces out of him, the sensation overwhelming his senses. Jungkook keeps on sucking his neck and it feels so good it’s excruciating, how he doesn’t want it to end, but how at the same time he needs more. His hands are on Jungkook’s neck, and he doesn’t know when they went to stop there, but now his nails are scratching Jungkook’s nape and before Jimin can help he is moaning Jungkook’s name.Jungkook moans back, and almost feels like being punched on the stomach with a fist of flowers. Jimin can’t take it anymore. He pulls Jungkook’s head back and turns to face him, catching his swollen lips on his mouth with a fervor he has no idea inhabited in him. Jungkook is fast to comply, lips falling open and licking into Jimin’s mouth just as desperately. Their tongues meet in a clash of heat and mutual desire, and it’s fucking addicting, how their lips fit so perfectly together, how their pace is exactly the same, as if they were familiar to each other’s lips for their entire lives. “H…hyung.” Jungkook pulls back for air, but Jimin is unable to think straight. He chases Jungkook’s mouth like a predator, thirsty for the taste lingering on his lips, sucking and bitting his bottom lip, until Jungkook is groaning, grabbing his thighs and pulling him up. God. Jimin is losing his mind.He straddles Jungkook’s hips with his thighs, locking his ankles on the end of his back, and Jungkook takes the chance of the height difference to get back on Jimin’s neck. He is addicted, he knows, but the sound Jimin makes when he sucks and licks the right spots is enough to send him shooting up the sky. “Jung…Jungkook.” Jimin breathes out, and his legs are sliding down Jungkook’s body, so Jungkook hops him up, switching his hands from Jimin’s thighs to his ass and god. He bites down the curve of Jimin’s neck so hard he feels the boy shrinking. “Sorry.” He utters, voice hoarse like never before. His cheek is pressed against Jimin’s collarbone and he stays there for a second, lungs burning for air. “You’re driving me crazy.”  Jimin lazily smiles, looking down. Jungkook pulls back to look at his face, and he has all air squeezed out of him a second time in that night. Shit.“…what?” Jimin furrows his brows at Jungkook’s odd expression. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook takes more time than he thinks he should to answer. But he can’t help it. He’s stunned.“Jungkook?” “Nothing, just– I…” he lifts his eyes to meet Jimin’s. “You’re beautiful.” Jimin’s mouth fall open to form some kind of response, but he’s rendered speechless, cheeks flushing redder than his bruised lips. It’s the most adorable thing in the world. Jungkook doesn’t let him answer.He kisses his mouth with a different kind of need this time, kisses him until both of them forget how to speak, how to breath – until the only thought in the back of his mind is Park Jimin’s face and nothing more.