#but i DO still think it's definitely shifted and more people like Merry these days than ever before

[northern-passage]

i went through the whole merry search on your account and i can't believe people used to hate her? how do you not love a messy bitch who starts drama.............

sooo true, anon. unfortunately we live in a world where people hate women 😔 but i will say you're right, it's gotten a lot better recently. i think it has to do with a combination of me really curating my audience over the past year, and in general things are very different now compared to when i started in 2020. more genderlocked companions, more trans characters, and it's pretty common now for games to have poly romance options, as well as love interests that will pursue other characters if the player doesn't show interest in them. (the last 2 being things people really hated Merry for in the beginning)

people definitely still don't like it, but i think they are more of a loud minority now than the loud majority like they were previously. which has been a really nice change to see :-)

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 30: Meet the Andovers

Does this read like a fluffy chapter? Absolutely, especially after the previous chapter. However, this is absolutely essential to the plot, as we get to meet Nils' parents - more specifically his mother.

That being said, the side gag going on in this one may read like one of the sillier chapters of "The Miys", but I swear it was entirely @baelpenrose's doing.

Mama's hooked on Mary Kay

Brother's hooked on Mary Jane

And Daddy's hooked on Mary two doors down

Mary, Mary quite contrary

We get bored, so we get married

Just like dust, we settle in this town

On this broken merry go 'round

Kasey Musgraves, “Merry go round”

Lash

I fidgeted with my hair before inwardly cursing myself and forcing my hands to my side. “You promise your mother isn’t as bad as Dr. Andover?” I asked for what had to have been the thousandth time.  Nils meeting Mama and Baba had been spontaneous, something I had been delaying more for my sake than his.  But I knew almost nothing about his parents beyond the fact that their relationship was rough on a good day.

“My mother’s worst sin is that she’s a bit oblivious to how people without money tend to live - despite our church spanning pretty much every economic class in the city. She did, however, take your community’s part in the class action lawsuit against the city, or her firm did, and last I checked, they’re winning. She’s happy to see me putting myself out there again. You two will actually get along great.” I was still distracted from how my meeting with the Parsons had gone. “Oh, and uh. Quick note. My father wasn’t…happy at all with our little stunt with the media originally, but now he’s had time to think about it and he loves you. And the fact that we’re dating. Like actually. Just not for the reasons you’d want him to.” 

So, the rich lady is the nice kind, and the holier-than-thou doctor liked me.  I couldn’t actually figure out which was worse, but all in all they could hate me for a plethora of reasons, so I was taking what I could get. “And we’re having dinner with them? Please tell me it’s something I’m going to recognize.”

“Anything you grew up eating, they wouldn’t recognize. And to be so honest, if I grew up eating it, it’s probably too flavorless for your culture to grant it status as “food,” regardless of official classification. Things you and I have eaten together - actually remember that ritzy Mediterranean fusion place with the Ethiopian and Turkish sections on the menu as well as the southern European countries? The one I took you to a few months ago? That’s where we’re going.” Nils’ voice had shifted all at once from apologetic to confident, as though he knew that at least that, I’d actually like.

My mouth did start watering a bit. “The place with the bad spanakopita and the amazing dolmades?”

“Because where better to take a girl to meet your parents than the sight of your first date. That one. Yes.” He answered with a cocky grin. 

“I can face almost anything as long as I can eat,” I nodded, feeling more confident as I teased as our Uber slowed to a stop. “I’ll even use a fork, just for them.”

“Ah, yes, the table manners of the lower classes, a thing that has been of concern more recently than the long 19th century, that is definitely. What I was concerned about.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we?” 

I took the arm, and brushed my hair over my shoulder one last time. “Let’s…. I hate to say get this over with, but our history of meeting each other’s parents isn’t the best. And that’s considering that my family liked you before you were a hero.”

“My meeting with your parents was going perfectly well before an unpredictable event caused by outside factors with whom we have settled accounts.” Nils spoke in a sarcastic, almost parodical voice that would have been funny if applied to anything else. “No, though. You’re right. If it makes you feel any better, we’re the only terrorists at tonights’ venue. No, uh…my parents like you. My mom for good reasons, my dad for bad ones. Not anything creepy,” he said quickly, “More…deeply self-serving.” 

I tugged his arm.  “Okay, let’s go before I chicken out and make up a cold or something.”

“Oh, I never even considered ‘feign sudden illness’ when your parents were about to show up.” Nils led me into the restaurant, and when we made our entrance at a restaurant for wealthy people, fairly dressed up, we turned heads walking in. He whispered, “Take bets - do we look good, or are we just getting looks for being local heroes?”  He spotted his parents table and led me towards it, pulling out a chair for me and seating me before taking his own seat. 

His mother looked at me, and gave me a reassuring smile. 

“So,” Nils said, almost breathless. “Mom, Father, this is my girlfriend, Lash Botelho. I’m glad you’re finally meeting her formally. Lash, this is Dr. Michael Andover, you met him at the hospital, and this is Katherine Andover, attorney-at-law. Lash is a student of business and computer science, with a minor in graphic design - and she’s an excellent artist on a personal level. We’ve done a bunch of projects together.”

“So you guys met through school,” his mother seemed interested. “And Lash - business, computer science, and graphic design? That’s quite a lot. Heavy course load. I thought Nils was putting on a lot when he was doing computer science, political science, and history at the same time, but if I remember right your course load is even heavier.”

“It helps that I already do a lot of work with nonprofits,” I admitted. “So the computer science and graphic design were areas I already had a solid foundation in.  The business courses are the ones where I’m learning the most new information.”

“Nils says the same thing about poli-sci and computer science - lot of activist work. Doesn’t make it less impressive that you can balance all that with working outside school as well.” She said, quietly. 

Nils’ father broke into the conversation. “You work with nonprofits,” he said, suddenly much more interested. “Which ones?” 

Nils’ eyes got sharp. “Mostly ones that help poor people access resources they need.” 

I saw an opportunity and leapt in with both feet. “Right now, I do a lot with clean water initiatives, to help minimize exposure to insect- and waterborne illnesses. West Nile, Zika, even e.coli.  Things that are easy to prevent but devastating if you can’t afford treatment.”

I saw wheels turning in his father’s head. “Any particular foundations I should look at? Nils is always vetting my charity donations for me, and that sounds like a worthy one.” 

“I actually just took on a contract for one that has developed a straw that filters any water that is fifty-percent or less contaminants into potable water, without a need to boil it.  I’ll find the name and have him pass it on to you.  The proof of concept is just incredible.”

He grunted, with a tone that sounded like he was impressed against his will, and Nils looked back and forth between us, clearly nervous.

Mrs. Andover was back to talking to me. “So, what do you two work on together?”

Nils glanced at his parents. “Guys, you know, this is a lot less… ‘parents meeting my girlfriend’ than I thought it was going to be. Honestly you’re talking like you’re deciding whether or not to invest in a startup.” 

Mrs. Andover started laughing. “Well, Nils, honestly, you tell us basically nothing about this girl. All I know about her is that she’s beautiful, she’s clearly won you over, you two work together, she’s clearly brilliant based on what she’s studying and keeping up with, and now that she does work with some pretty impressive nonprofits. I’m trying to get to know her, and I figure asking about work is less likely to be too invasive.” 

Dr. Andover shrugged. “We also know her father works at the hospital. And that both her parents got hurt in the…”

Mrs. Andover glowered at him. “Wait, both of them? You didn’t…Nils, you didn’t tell me both her parents were hurt, and I suppose my husband couldn’t have for HIPPA reasons. Lash, how are your parents doing? I’m so sorry, I should have led with that.”

Grateful for something a little less formal, I relaxed. “Baba - my father - is home and doing much better than expected.  He lost his leg, but is very determined to learn to use the prosthesis.  His physical therapist actually threatened to take it away because he rubbed blisters from pushing himself too hard.” I gave a small laugh. “It’s good to see, though.  And Mama came home two days ago… she is still on breathing treatments, but off of twenty-four-seven oxygen - she had smoke inhalation damage.  She was very upset she still cannot shout at Baba when he is being stubborn, but my sister found an airhorn from somewhere and no one has had peace since.”  I stopped for a drink of water and noticed all eyes on me. My face flushed and I covered my mouth. “Oh my gosh, I was rambling, I’m so sorry.”

Nils grabbed my hand. “Don’t apologize, I love you.” He blinked. “When you talk about your family, I mean.”  

Mrs. Andover was watching us, oblivious to me trying to process that Nils had just said that, and she started chuckling, abruptly. “I can’t say airhorn is the method I’d have gone with, but…it’s good to know that men are stubborn like that across race, culture, creed, or birth.” Her voice took on the slight timbre of an old poem near the end.

Nils blinked. “Did. Did you just quote Rudyard Kipling at my Indian-American girlfriend?” 

“Pakistani-Indian,” I corrected absently. “And yes, but it’s still very true.  You’re just as stubborn as Baba, you just had more appropriate clothing on.”

His mother blushed, his father didn’t seem to recognize why what his wife had done might have been a faux pas, and I forged ahead to keep things from going south as Dr. Andover changed the subject. “Have either of you eaten here before? It’s a bit upscale from the places Nils prefers, normally.” 

Nils glowered. “I took her here for the first date.” 

Mrs. Andover smiled. “Oh, very nice.” The waiter came by and took our orders, refilling the glasses with water. “This place is really spicy, especially the Ethiopian side of the menu.”

Then his father asked a question, and Nils glared at him with absolute loathing. “So, Lash, you and Nils made quite the effective television appearance. You’re already doing a lot in public service, do you have any designs in a career there?”

Nils squeezed my knee under the table, but this was the one question I had been bracing myself for, thankfully. “Well, my goal is to set up a business that focuses on boosting the visibility of nonprofits, while contributing a significant portion of our revenue into areas where it can create the biggest impact: schools, literacy programs, health education, things like that.  Try to shore up the foundations where normal budgets may not be able to.”  And here’s hoping Nils doesn’t die trying not to laugh at that answer.

“Hm.” Mrs. Andover glowered at her husband as he continued, this was clearly an argument they’d had before, “And those are all worthy goals, but going directly into politics with your education and Nils’, together, you could directly impact all of those, and their budgets, far more direct power with what you can do, if you’re willing to get into the system together and change it.”

I shook my head firmly. “I understand where you are coming from, Dr. Andover, but I’m sure it surprises nobody here that I very much disagree.  Public office is far more restrictive than independent enterprise, foremost - I would have to balance special interests with what would be considered ‘pet projects’, whereas through my own business I can connect the charities with who needs them the most, while ensuring the charities are as visible as possible to maximize their operating budgets.  And besides, Nils doesn’t strike me as someone who would thrive in public office.” I turned to him and visibly squeezed his hand. “No offense.”

“None taken. My father has rarely, if ever, liked the idea of me going into policy rather than running for office, despite the fact that policy experts maintain far more freedom to operate in personal lives while having more influence than politicians - just much less prestige. Honestly I don’t know what led people to believe I’d be good at public office. I gave one very smooth speech on TV.” He took on that slightly mocking tone that I abruptly realized must have been from a lifetime of practice. “Which, to be fair, does seem like the majority of what voters expect. And Father - never try to push my girlfriend into your side of this argument again. I know the only reason you tried to do this is because you thought she’d help me with demographics I’d otherwise struggle with - nice code for ‘people of color that white boy extraordinaire Nils Andover can’t exactly relate to’ by the way.”

I let the silence that followed hang for a moment while the waiter set down our food, before giving Mrs. Andover an openly curious look. “Don’t worry, babe.  I am sure your mother strongly agrees.”  When she looked surprised, I casually gestured with my water. “After all, Mrs. Andover, you’re a non-name partner in a law firm prestigious enough to represent a class action lawsuit against not just the city, but the police, and yet I’ve never seen you run for office.  Surely with that kind of acumen, you would be a shoo-in for the public defender’s office, or the DA.  All the way up to Attorney General, easily.”  Nils looked at me in confusion, and I murmured “You seriously thought I wasn’t going to look up the law firm that is representing my community? She’s partner, Nils.”

“I’m aware how she ranks in her firm,” he murmured back, “I guess I didn’t put that together, good eye.” 

Mrs. Andover chuckled. “Oh, I like the two of you together. Good eye, Lash. People should stay where they think they can make the strongest impact in what they’re passionate about - if you don’t think that’s office, don’t run for office. Oh, and Lash, offhand - I can’t say why, but your community ought to start taking notes about any and all interactions with the police from here on out.” 

Nils smirked. “That means they’re going to be unhappy with the results of the lawsuit.”

Mrs. Andover flicked a wrist. “No, just that her and her community ought to be taking notes and keeping documentation. Any further statements cannot be made at this time.”

“Mama is a secretary,” I assured them. “Taking notes is a compulsion for her, and letting her know will give her something to do other than honk at us.”

“I’m glad. Let her know I’d be happy to speak to her directly as well.” She slipped me a card. 

Nils took a bite of his food, simply enjoying the blend of spices - and then turned to watch his father take a gulp of water. I had been training him to increase his tolerance, and almost certainly to flex he’d ordered one of the spiciest things on the menu. 

Granted, even my tolerance wasn’t that high, so he was almost certainly just hiding the pain to fuck with his parents. I just grinned and scooped up a bite of stew. “I don’t know exactly what they add to the okra stew to make it so good, but it is certainly in my top ten favorite dishes.  Mrs. Andover?” I had noticed she’d ordered the same - a very mild but extremely flavorful stew.

“Oh, it’s excellent. One of the reasons I love coming here. I’m glad Nils took you here for the first date. Means some of what I taught him stuck.” 

Nils blushed. “I mean…good food, good company?” He was dutifully eating his food, but I could hear him struggling not to choke, shifting between pleasure and agony with each bite.

His mother gave him a flat look. “Make a girl feel special, take her somewhere nice with a bunch of really good options.” 

Finally, I had mercy on both my boyfriend and his profoundly rude father and waved down our server. “I am really craving spiced buttermilk… any chance we can get four glasses of it?  I don’t mind paying extra if it has to be made special. I didn’t see it on the menu.”

“Absolutely not. We invited you,” to my surprise, Nils’ father spoke first. “We’ll cover. But yes, spiced buttermilk would be good.” 

In much less time than I expected, the server had returned with four glasses of thick, bright orange drink.  No sooner had he walked away than I took a long sip of mine, rolling my eyes in exaggerated pleasure. “Buttermilk with turmeric, ginger, saffron, cinnamon, and a chai infusion.  It compliments the food so well.”

Nils took a slow sip, clearly restraining himself from chugging, and took a breath. “It is excellent. Thank you for the suggestion.” He took another bite of the chicken, tasting the spice, the flavor, the heat, and then a slow sip of the milk. I could see a slight bead of sweat tracing down the side of his face, and wondered, briefly, about my boyfriend’s pain tolerance. And why he was doing this. 

Mrs. Andover took a sip of her own, eyes widening. “Oh, this is lovely!” She pushed the last glass closer to her husband. “It’s… The closest I can describe it is it’s like a glass of melted orange sherbet. You should try it.”

After the first sip, every ounce of Dr. Andover’s composure collapsed as he inhaled half the glass.  The facade was immediately put back in place however, as he sat up straight and set the glass down gently. “I agree, it’s quite the compliment to the food.  I may indulge in a second, but we shall see.”

Nils took another bite of the berber-slathered chicken, smiling at the taste, and took a sip of the milk before the wave of heat hit him - he seemed to have gotten the timing down, since the facade no longer looked quite so forced. “Excellent suggestion, Lash. Would anyone like to try each other’s dishes?”

Mrs. Andover blinked, but smiled. “Oh, does Lash’s family do that, too? I know the Parsons do, and since Lash and I ordered the same thing…Here, Lash, you can have some of my side if I can have some of yours.” 

I grinned, nodding. “My family eats communal meals, usually, so we all share, yes. But… I didn’t get to try the rosti last time and will gladly swap you for some of my dolmades - they’re not spicy, but very pickled.”

She smiled, and put some of the rostis on my plate and took some of my dolmades. I wisely turned down some of what Nils had ordered, and sensing my trepidation, so did his mother - though we both took some of his side, and gave him a bit of ours. His father blindly lunged ahead, clearly thinking the idea of swapping was ridiculous but not wanting to annoy his wife, and took a bit of Nils’ chicken, and Nils took a bit of the goat from his father, eating it with a smile. 

I could feel the malevolence in Nils smile as his father bit into the berber-slathered chicken and rapidly gulped the milk, all trace of composure gone. “How…how were you keeping your calm through eating that the whole meal?” He managed to get out between gasps.

“I’m dating an Indian-Pakistani girl. She’s been training my spice tolerance.” Nils’ voice was casual. 

Mrs. Andover seemed to be ignoring her son and husband’s antics, instead calmly gesturing with a spoon at her spouse’s meal. “How spicy is that?”  When I glanced at the men, she shook her head. “They’ve always been like that, it’s best not to engage.”

I glanced again, before staring at the goat and trying to remember what had been ordered.  Slowly, I answered. “It isn’t very spicy - I think it’s a bit bland, to be honest - but because it’s so fatty, the spice stays around and builds.  You’re supposed to eat it with a bread or some other carb, to help.”

Without asking, she scooped a chunk of goat onto each of our plates. “Okay, show me. I love trying new things.”

Hesitantly, I tore a piece of bread off, and proceeded to use it to pick a chunk of goat off the bone, sheer habit causing me to use my fingers. The piece came away cleanly, and I shoved the entire bundle in my mouth before realizing what I had done.

To my abject horror, I looked up to see Mrs. Andover - coiffed, coutured, rich Mrs. Andover - with her fingers in her mouth and a look of delight on her face. She chewed quickly and swallowed before I could apologize for my manners. “Oh, that is so nice!  And much easier than using a fork, no wonder he was struggling so much!”

“Ma’am, I am so sorry - “  I covered my mouth as she tore off another piece of bread and attacked the goat with gusto.

“I asked how it was meant to be eaten, Lash.” She gestured at herself, particularly her face. “Do I look like the kind of woman accustomed to eating spicy food properly?” When I was forced to shake my head, half surprised she’d asked like that, she added. “For God’s sake, Lash, do you think for an instant Nils got his sense of humor from his father?”

I glanced at Dr. Andover - still playing spicy-food chicken with his son and losing decisively - before shaking my head. “I just - Eating with fingers is not an American thing,” I finished lamely.

“As Nils will explain to you or indeed anyone at length - and has explained to me, and his father - that is very much an old world prohibition imported from upper-class Europeans, and lower-class Americans only developed issues with it when the average American became wealthy enough to have easy access to silverware. He will remind everyone who even tangentially brings this up how recent that is.” She gave a faint smile. “I wasn’t born wealthy, you know. I’m from the generation of Americans where one could work their way through college provided one started out merely middle class.” 

“ ‘Merely’,” I mused. “And trust me that I am the last person Nils will need to lecture about silverware.  He’s seen Baba eat palak paneer with his fingers and an extreme amount of dignity.” I paused and made a confused face. “I am still not sure how he keeps it out of his moustache, I’ll be honest. And it’s quite a moustache. He’s very proud of it.”

She chuckled. “Fair enough. I suppose I should have said, ‘I’m not judging’. My husband came from money, I did not. I think you and Nils are great together, by the way. I love the way you talk to each other.” 

“We do argue, sometimes,” I confessed. “But usually it’s cultural, and we find our way through pretty quickly.  My parents adore him, so there’s that.  Mori - my sister - tolerates him well enough, which is practically a glowing approval from her.”

“A young man like Nils should have a partner he argues with. If there’s no arguments with a personality like that, it means either one of you is totally bulling over the other by force of will, or both of you are taking turns manipulating the other. Working through arguments when they come up is a much better sign.” She shrugged. “I’m glad your parents like him. I like you - and as to my husband…you impressed him and he respects you and your family. That will, in the long run, be better than him just “liking” you.” 

I caught Nils stabbing another chunk of hallucigenically spicy chicken, and snatched his plate and fork away with the same hand. “I am not going to coddle you later when that is just as spicy as it was going in,” I warned him calmly.  “Rice, sherbet, and buttermilk.”

Nils nodded. “Got it babe.”

Mrs. Andover pulled the dregs of the goat away from her spouse, pointing at me and Nils. “Same thing. Rice, sherbert, dairy. Lash is a lovely and clever girl, stop antagonizing our son, insert lecture here.”  With that, she rested her chin elegantly on her intertwined fingers, winking at me. “I think you and I are going to get along great.  You have my number, let’s set up a ladies’ day - invite your mother and sister.  I’ll treat if your family chooses the restaurant.”

One and a half out of two was a win in my books. “I’ll talk to them about it, see if we can schedule it before Mori heads back home.”

[taechaos]

A Thriller Film

pairing: director!Jungkook x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere, smut

synopsis: Jungkook's life is his movies, but people don't know his movies are his life. As an anonymous director, no one can suspect him as the villain in a story, but he leaves a clue in his movie about you.

warnings: smoking, stalking, murder, solo masturbation, public fingering

word count: 5.4k

a/n: i don't know why i put so much effort into this but we love to see it flop 🥰

Smoking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Jungkook noticed you for the first time when a cigarette was hanging off his lips, exhaling the stress from the process of organizing a new thriller film with a less than cooperative crew. Fresh out of high school, you were bright and skipping on the sidewalk in the early hours of the morning. What would such a young woman, applying for colleges left and right, be so happy about?

He didn't know you at the time, but looking at you was like a breath of fresh air. While he survived off of coffee and nicotine, you seemed to have a lot of happiness to share. Your smile was incompatible with his frown.

So he ignored you when you passed him with your earphones blasting a song so loud, he involuntarily caught the lyrics.

Fall... back... in... to... place.

The second time he saw you, he was smoking again and you were just as happy as the day before. How can someone be so in tune with themselves, with life? The same song played from your earphones, the one he listened to on repeat after searching up the lyrics: Space Song. An urge to approach you surged up in him, but he only watched you as you walked past him. A single glance from you was all it took to anticipate tomorrow.

Today, when he recognizes you from your clothing first; colorful, silky, gorgeous. So much personality in one outfit, a polar opposite to his casual black outfit in jeans and a plain shirt. Even your bag is eye-catching, and he flicked the ash off of his cigarette before nodding at you as you passed the bus stop, reaching the front of his studio.

Why did your eyes just widen? You acknowledge him with a friendly smile, and go on your merry way. That is until he lightly taps your shoulder, and you turn instantly.

"Hey," he greets before you can utter a word, "where are you always rushing off to?"

Your lips part in surprise; the man you secretly - guiltily - side-eyed for the past few days noticed you when you weren't looking? "I have an interview. Well, a few," you chuckle.

"For what?" he tilts his head curiously and takes another drag from his stick.

"Career counseling," you plainly reply, but it sounds enthused. "I'm a clueless graduate." Your hands clutch your tote bag before you discreetly check the time on your wrist. You're going to be running late soon.

"You interested in cinematography?" Smoke follows his words, but you aren't fazed.

"I'm interested in all forms of art, why?"

He notices you checking your watch again. "I'm a film director. This is my studio," he cranes his neck behind him. "You can apply for an internship here. Maybe for a stylist even," he points at your floral romper with his chin as his eyes trail.

You shift your weight on your left foot when his stare flusters you, and you consider his flattering suggestion for only a second before saying, "thank you for the offer, but I need to go now," you grimace sheepishly, "can I think about it?"

"Take your time," he reassures with a sly smile and inhales from his stick, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of your perfume alongside.

He doesn't look away when you walk off with a shy wave, entranced by your struts until he's called back in. It's with newfound inspiration that he's inside of his studio.

The storyboard of his upcoming project needs a few tweaks, and he doesn't fail in enhancing his crew with a different idea.

It’s been a week. Okay, it might’ve been shorter, but Jungkook is impatient. Besides, it didn’t help when he saw you holding hands with someone... so less than. It really baffled him to see you with a guy who wore such shabby clothes. He looks like the type that Jungkook would cast for a flop character.

The two of you are like a toy display across his studio in that cutesy, obnoxious café with a smoothie in the middle of your booth. He chuckles as he lights up another stick when he notices the two straws in the single cup. Cliché, cheesy, but cute in a childish sense. Your age shines through the amateur romance between you and that loser.

It especially shows when you look to the side with a laugh and lock eyes with him; so flustered that you gasp and focus back on your date. What makes you so shy about seeing him? You seemed so confident during your conversation two days ago.

He whistles when he notices a stray dog in an alleyway. You look at him as well but don't hear anything beyond the glass wall, but it catches his attention regardless. He whistles again before saying in a hushed voice, "come here girl." It's difficult to suppress a smile when you gaze at him questioningly, as if trying to decipher his words. "Naive little girl," he mouths as he smokes, "what are you doing with that boy?"

He almost chokes when you take out your wallet in front of a waiter; are you paying for him? That's why you ordered one drink - so you could share? Jungkook isn't cruel but, he finds it laughable that your boyfriend is so... unappealing. He can't help but wonder why you're with him; maybe his face? The boy is somewhat handsome, but he only has his facial features to go by. It's rather strange for Jungkook to think about this in the first place, so he gets back inside his workplace after harshly shooing the stray dog away with a stomp of his foot.

"I'd like to start my internship today."

Jungkook runs his eyes up and down your body while leaning against a brick wall. "Paid?"

"I-I'll do it for free. Besides, I don't know if I'll even work in this industry," you twiddle your fingers while smiling up at him. He intimidates you, but this morning you decided you did enough thinking and here you are, an aspiring stylist all of a sudden.

"Get inside," he nods at the door before stubbing his cigarette and following you to his studio. "You know what you're going to do?"

"I'm going to decide the outfits, right?" The place looks cozy to you, with its minimalistic interior design and blunt switch between the stories. The first floor is strictly for business, with lined up cameras, lights and a microphone. There is even a green screen! And the second floor seems to be more of a resting area with its couches and open laptops, but you can't make out much from the entrance. Jungkook starts walking ahead of you, making a beeline for the black stairs. You tail behind him and smile at anyone who notices you, which isn't a lot of people. It's not crowded.

"Right. We're still working on a storyline, haven't finished it yet so it's possible this project might not be published. You with me so far?" he glances at you, and at your firm nod, continues, "when we finish planning, scripting and shit, you come to play."

"So what do I do now?" you innocently inquire and watch him plop down on the red velvet couch. He clicks on the space of his keyboard to light up his screen.

"I have an idea for a character, and I want to know how you would design her," he vaguely explains as he scrolls through his document.

"You want me to sketch it or explain?"

"Let's hear you out first. Irene," he suddenly calls out loudly.

"Yes?" a female responds from downstairs. You see a woman with a grey cap look up at him, her attire nothing short of casual.

"Come here."

She skips a few steps while climbing up the stairs at his command. You're not awkward when you greet her, and she offers a coy smile.

"This girl - what did you say your name was?" he asks you. You tell him and he continues, "she's going to be our intern. I want you to critique her with me."

"What's she in for?" Irene asks before sitting across from him.

"Wardrobe stylist."

Her eyes widen as she takes a second look at you. Your style is definitely unique, but... immature. She has half the mind to not question Jungkook about his choice.

"Okay..." she trails. "I'm Irene, by the way. I'm going to be an executive producer for the upcoming film."

"Nice to meet you," you brightly chirp. "Sir?"

Jungkook smirks at your addressing of him. "Yes?"

"What is your name, if I may ask?"

"I'm Jeon Jungkook, but you may know me for my pen name Shin Dong-hyuk."

Your mouth falls open when you instantly recognize the name. "Wait, what? You directed My Time?" you incredulously wonder aloud.

My Time is a movie that took the world by a storm; it brought recognition to the whole country for its popularity and clever writing. You never knew the name was a pseudonym, however. It's a suspense genre, about the life of a crazed fanboy who is obsessed with a foreign celebrity. He stalks her on the internet, has a fanpage of her and pays a hefty amount of money to strangers to update him on her whereabouts. He's portrayed as a young college student in the story, and inevitably runs out of cash from reckless spending. When she gets into a dating scandal, he goes on a theft spree and flies out to meet and confront her. It ends with her murder when he finds her with another man in a hotel room, and he stabs himself in the heart afterwards. There are a bunch of clues that foreshadow his ending, from his family life to his friendships. It's an amazing thriller, and you researched his name in the credits to find more of his works after seeing the movie but to no avail; there is only one listed.

"That's me," he nonchalantly reveals as if he didn't just give you the shock of your life. "Don't tell anyone though, will you?"

You whimsically put on an imagery zipper over your mouth while trying to recover from your racing heart.

"I don't have a clear outline, but the female lead is going to be naive but charming. She has to stand out, alright? Happy, extraordinary, special."

"We didn't decide on that," Irene butts in with a displeased expression.

"I forgot to tell you, I deleted our previous plan."

"You did wh-"

"What do you think?" he turns to you as he ignores Irene's shrieks. "What color are you imagining?"

You feel nervous when he puts you on the spotlight after revealing his identity. You close your eyes with a deep inhale before answering, "I'm thinking red and green, like Christmas. There should be a hint of white as well."

Jungkook drinks in your outfit before grinning mischievously. "Perfect." All of your colors.

Stalking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Is it such a bad idea to follow you home when it's dark out? He kept you for a long time in the studio, allowing you to dress up a mannequin with all sorts of costumes you had in mind in the backroom. He's certain you had fun with him when you left with a permanent grin on your face.

You live with your parents, and he knows for sure he's at least 5 years older than you. You look about 19, so he's assuming he's only 8 years older.

A small villa with windows all around, he observes, before glancing back at your bedroom. The lights are on and you're swinging your legs with excitement on your bed after you face planted on the mattress. He didn't see you greet your parents before running off to your room, and he can't help the smile growing on his face at your hyperactivity. It was like an instinct to walk you home in secret and he isn't sure why he is still watching you. He should look away when you get off of your bed and heave your shirt over your chest, but instead he steps away from the lamp post to hide from the light.

You're changing, and he can't take his eyes off of you. As if that wasn't enough, you unclasp your bra without even pulling the curtains. Do you know he's there? The thought excites him, and his pants begin to tighten around his crotch. He lowly whistles at you, but you don't hear him again. You do look outside for a few seconds while stretching your arms, however, and he's certain you have a connection to him.

He leaves when you put on your pajamas with the image of your bare tits imprinted on his mind. He doesn't head home first, as the studio is only a few minutes away from your home and he wants to leave you a gift.

When the familiar building enters his vision, he doesn't waste time in unlocking the door and switching on a single dim light. He rushes to the backroom after locking the entrance for a second time and unzips his jeans as he goes. You were here not too long ago, and he can pinpoint exactly where you stood while striding to each corner with purpose. Bending, crouching, leaning, doing just about anything to tease him.

Now that he can imagine your perky nipples realistically, he immediately takes out his length from his restraints and picks up a random handkerchief to pump himself with. He doesn't stop to think over his actions; he's acting on urges, on impulse. Never has he ever done something like this.

He's rather relaxed as he sits down on an idle stool to close his eyes and run his hand up and down his shaft. What he would do to press your tits against his cock while he slides it up and down, smearing his cum all over your lips while you sleep. You would swallow it without a second thought once he finishes in your gaping mouth, and wonder why there's a dull ache in your breasts the next morning.

His breaths grow shallow the faster he strokes himself, the more he thinks about using every part of you for his pleasure while you're knocked out cold. He involuntarily thrusts into the air while quiet moans slip out of his open mouth. Something about how taboo it would be to fuck you while you're unconscious turns him on so much. Would that be something you're into?

The handkerchief is so soft, so silky against his length, he can almost imagine it to be your hand. He starts twisting his hand around his cock, from the base to the tip as his other hand palms his balls before he begins to reach climax. Strings of cusses fall out of his mouth when he quickens his pace, the fabric against his skin resounding in his ears before he finally spurts out his cum into the cloth.

"Fuck," he exhales as he coats his makeshift glove with his release. White on white doesn't make much of a difference, and he's panting as he folds the handkerchief to rub it evenly so it sinks in completely.

He leaves it on the stool after zipping his pants, and his eyes twinkle under the moonlight on his journey home.

You aren't alone when you walk to work. Jungkook is taking his usual smoke break while watching you swing your interlocked hands back and forth with the guy next to you. Your smiles exude the same aura, and Jungkook sarcastically notes how compatible the two of you are. The boxy grin shines with the sun, but it doesn't hide the boy's worn out clothes.

"Good morning, Jungkook," you greet before introducing your boyfriend. "This is Taehyung, Taehyung meet Jungkook. I'm going to be under his wing until I decide my major."

"Hello, Taehyung," Jungkook coldly says before blowing smoke in his face.

Taehyung scrunches his nose before chirping, "hi!" He then turns to you and whispers, "I thought you wanted to study medicine."

You shake your head dismissively with a light laugh before responding, "it's just an internship." You let go of his hand and bid farewell with a peck on his cheek before going inside the studio.

"Well, have a good day," Taehyung smiles as he's about to leave before Jungkook holds out his hand to block the way.

"Taehyung, who is your girlfriend?"

"Um," he furrows his brows before saying your name.

"And who are you?"

At Jungkook's blunt question, Taehyung pauses and takes a step back. "What do you mean? Like my full name?"

"No, who the fuck are you? What is your contribution to society? What do you do for a living? What are you wearing?"

"Sir, I-" Taehyung's stammering is cut short when Jungkook asks, "how much money for you to stop leeching off of her?"

He scoffs, "excuse me? I'm not leeching off of anyone, and I'm sure as hell not breaking up with her for your money." Taehyung's face heats up from the shameless confrontation, and he starts walking in the opposite direction.

"So you're not going to leave her?"

Taehyung doesn't turn to look at him as he emphasizes, "no."

"Good."

He abruptly stops in his tracks. "What?"

"Your dedication is admirable," Jungkook comments with a shrug. "I'm satisfied with your answer."

"Were you testing me?"

"Bingo."

He starts chuckling before shaking his head. "I always knew directors were crazy; you scared me for a second."

"Where you headed now?" Jungkook smoothly switches the subject, but notes the fact that you've spoken about him to your boyfriend.

"I have a farm two blocks away." When Jungkook raises a brow, he explains, "I stayed the night with her, so I decided to drop her off before leaving."

"Want me to drop you off?"

It's a kind offer, really, but Taehyung is still put off by the insults thrown his way just a minute ago. Doesn't he have work to do anyway? "That's alright, thank you, but I'll just take the bus. Have a good one, Jungkook."

Jungkook doesn't stop him as they both wave goodbye. He doesn't bother putting out his cigarette before going inside.

Where would be a farm only two blocks away from the city center? It has to be a lie.

You're wandering around the place as to not awkwardly wait for Jungkook who sharply inhales at the sight. He calls your name.

"Yes?"

"What do you want to become?"

"I," you look at him funny with a laugh, "I still don't know."

"Then take a gap year."

Your brows shoot up to your hairline. "Why?"

"I want you to be invested in this project completely. Once the planning is finished, I'll give you a salary. What do you think?"

He's asking you to work full-time for him. Not as an intern, but an employee and you are beyond willing after only being here for two days. He's a famous director; how can one pass up this opportunity?

"I'd love that."

You noticed that Jungkook has a very unique way of working. You've heard that he's been keeping his crew until late at night, already having an outline for his plot and he's moved onto screenwriting. He apparently disappears randomly throughout the evening after you leave, and you've had some different experiences with him of your own.

He asked you to steal from the wardrobe of his backroom. "Take everything that you'd wear," he said before stepping out of the room.

When you confusedly compiled all of the clothes that caught your eye under your arm, he took them from you and brought them upstairs with a huge grin. "Keep that one," he pointed at the handkerchief you thought about lacing your neck with.

Taehyung's quiet with you. He doesn't respond to your texts, doesn't call you, doesn't come over. You're too busy spending time with Jungkook to check up on him, and it serves as a well distraction when you keep glancing at your notifications. It hurts, especially when your wallpaper is a picture of you and him. It hurts because he isn't with you in your proudest moments when you were with him even at his parents' funeral.

The only thing keeping you happy is casting. Jungkook asked you to make a list of all the actors that would suit his characters after giving you a vague description of their traits. The budget isn't an issue, and you're having so much fun. He makes you forget your worries without even trying.

Jungkook intimidates you, but he's so lovely.

A mere "aspiring" stylist is casting actors for a movie. How many people can brag about that? You almost stumble on the stairs as you quickly climb up with Jungkook's laptop in your hands. He gave it to you for research purposes as he drew a rough storyboard with Irene.

"I made a list," you exclaim brightly. Heads shoot in your direction and you sheepishly grin at your volume. Jungkook's eyes linger on your covered neck; it's almost like a collar.

He whistles and beckons you to sit next to him. You obey and anxiously present your list to the professionals; you have no idea how to go on about this task, and no one guided you. You're certain you look utterly amateur in front of them.

Irene is inspecting your list without hinting her thoughts as Jungkook asks, "who are your favorites?"

"Well, I think Kim Namjoon is um, suitable for the male lead's role and Joy-"

"It's decided then," he claps his hands twice without hearing out Irene who scowls at him.

"You're not cooperating with us," she voices in a complaint, "why are you always calling the shots on your own? These are major decisions-"

"Ms. Bae, don't take any offence now. I'm taking your opinions into accounts when I make these decisions. Unless you have an issue with something, let's not dwell on this, hm?"

She sighs as you stand there awkwardly. She's upset, but stays silent.

"The two leads are Kim Namjoon and Park Soo-young. The team will decide the rest of the cast, thank you," he informs you with a ghost of a smile.

"Of course," you breathe.

You don't know how long it is supposed to take to shoot a film, but surely it's not this fast paced. Jungkook is relentless with his production; there are hardly any breaks in between takes. There are bags under his eyes from pulling all nighters to work on his scripts.

He is a perfectionist and a hard worker, as you've come to find out. You feel bad for the amount of times the actors recited their lines when they didn't capture a scene right in Jungkook's eyes. It was an honor for you to meet these famous people beyond a screen, and you were strictly ordered to do Joy's makeup only. You are her stylist, but the professional one does help you after she's finished with Namjoon's.

"Cut," Jungkook says into the speaker. You're located in a rented mansion outside of the city, but you can't enjoy it when everyone is so stressed. "Start over from line "he's leeching off of you"."

Even actors can't hide their annoyance from having to do a 25th take of one scene. Jungkook pays them enough to go on with this torture however, so they have no room to complain.

They start over and you force yourself to watch them again and again.

"Oh my god, cut!" You can hardly resist groaning yourself. Everyone on set is overworked, and you know the director has it the worst, but it's overwhelming you too at this point. You flinch when your name is called. "Act Joy's lines, will you?"

"Me?" you point at yourself in surprise.

"Go ahead," he urges with a nod.

You have no idea how to act, and it's nervewracking having to do it in front of A-listers. You pick up the script handed to you from another woman and start reading:

"He's not leeching off of me," you pause to inhale shakily; your hands tremble from the heavy stares on you.

"I'm his family, the only one he has left. No one would know if he was gone, and he trusts me to look after him without having to dangle a dollar bill over his head."

This goes on until the final scene, and the retakes cut down to half.

A few months pass, and it is time for the premiere. The movie, simply titled Pretty Girl, easily got a green light for display in theatres, and it's been heavily promoted on YouTube and TV. You are excited to your core, and watching the celebrities walk the red carpet was a first for you. Jungkook easily blends in with the crowd as he once again didn't reveal his real name in the credits, but his pen name is gaining more and more recognition. You have never seen the movie throughout the editing procedure, but you can't wait to see everyone's efforts show on the big screen.

You're dressed fancily because Jungkook asked you to go with him, and the two of you are sitting in the crowded theatre with not a single empty seat to be seen. Even the entrance is decorated in retro style to fit in with the movie's theme! The jazz music playing in the halls reaches your ears, and your knees are bouncing in anticipation of the movie. Jungkook is smiling as he listens to you ramble.

"I can't believe I played a part in this whole project!" you gush with shaking fists. "I met the best director I know, and I worked for him! This all feels like a dream... No one even likes my style, and yet I became a stylist!"

"I love your style," he denies, "even now you have all the attention in the room."

"Pfft," you roll your eyes playfully, "they all think I must look weird. I tried to wear something classy so I don't stand out, but it hasn't been working out."

"Keep it that way, you're beautiful like this."

Heat creeps up to your cheeks at his compliment and you squeak, "thank you."

He doesn't get to relish your flustered state as everyone goes quiet once the movie starts.

The time period is unclear, as the language is modern but the filter is black and white. The first scene is in a bar, a man in a suit eyeing a woman with a date who is an outcast with his clothes. They're washed out and ugly, but he looks handsome with his dazzling smile at the woman.

An involuntary grin spreads across your face when you hear their dialogue.

"I want to touch someone's shoulder to see how they react. Did you see how they looked at me when I walked in here? I think they think I'm your sugar baby or something," Jimin's character jokes with a laugh.

"I know! They're all so boujee, but I'm willing to be your mommy without sugar," Joy winks. They have fun until Jimin leaves to the bathroom and Namjoon's character approaches her, who has been staring at her ever since they walked in. Joy is offered a modeling career, and she accepts after she's told that her fashion only works with her because of how beautiful she is. She's bashful when Namjoon gives her a business card.

Jungkook's film is only over an hour long, but everything is timed so perfectly. His directory is straightforward, and you admire his work until a song comes on.

"That's my favorite song!" you whisper into his ear. It's Space Song by Beach House.

"Mine too," he whispers back.

There are montages of photo shoots, Joy's rise to fame in the modeling industry, but the trouble is Jimin, her boyfriend. Namjoon confronts him one day when Jimin drops her off to her new workplace.

"How can someone so poor be able to court a woman like her?" he asks rhetorically.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Jimin is offended until Namjoon laughs it off and reveals it was a joke. The audience sighs in relief, and all is fun and games until Jimin is brutally murdered next to a dumpster. You gasp at the gore scene and glance at Jungkook, until something dawns on you.

The story is starting to sound familiar. Was this movie inspired by your encounters? Your eyes light up as you give your utmost attention to the movie. The line between reality and fiction is beginning to blur.

Joy goes to Namjoon's house, where the dialogue you first reenacted comes to play. The shots are gorgeous, the script filled with metaphors on poverty and currency, and the romance is sickly sweet. There is a sex scene not long after... Joy forgets all about her boyfriend in the snap of Namjoon's fingers.

You tilt your head when you remember Taehyung. Where is he? How come your boyfriend didn't even show up to this life-changing experience?

Jungkook's hand slides over your thigh out of nowhere, as he murmurs, "do you mind?"

You stammer when his fingers reach under your dress to poke at your panties. "S-Sorry?"

"I said," he grazes your folds as you tense at the feather light touch, "do you mind if I touch you, pretty girl?"

Your chest heaves as your lashes flutter in a daze, but you nod nonetheless. His low raspy voice already has you clenching your thighs, unintentionally trapping his hand against your pussy. He's gentle, almost curious with the way he runs his fingers over your silky underwear before he moves it to the side. You're shivering with delight and thrill, and you don't take your eyes off of each other as he begins to flick your clit carelessly.

"Looks so pretty on you," he compliments the makeshift choker on your neck. It's his handkerchief you wore for the occasion, unaware that it's dried with cum. He pulls on the knot like it's a collar, and you're entranced. Your pants fan his lips at the close proximity, and he doesn't shy away from slotting his mouth against yours. You quietly moan into the kiss when his thumb starts to rub your clit, and his long finger pokes at your entrance.

"You mind?" he murmurs against your lips, his words slightly slurred as he doesn't stop kissing you. The wet noises are drowned out by the loud volume of the movie, but you can't focus on what's going on.

"I don't," you breathe before he slips in two fingers, exploring your walls with precision. He's multitasking as he circles your sensitive clit, and you're not very experienced in regards to sexual encounters but your hand lands on his hard-on anyway.

"Don't be shy," he chuckles into your neck, "touch it."

You don't know what you're doing when you slip your hand under his pants and palm him over his briefs, but his sigh is encouraging you. You're touching each other in a room of 100 people.

It's embarrassing when his free hand joins yours to help you touch him while simultaneously fingering you. He must have sensed your lack of confidence, because he starts to stroke his erection over your hand. You start to imagine his fingers as the real thing, and with your particularly low stamina, have a hard time suppressing your whines.

"Kiss my neck," he suggests as a solution to your nibbling. You didn't even realize your nether lip is bleeding from how hard you were biting on it. You bury your head in his shoulder and start pecking his neck. He holds back a laugh at how shy you're being, and he feels proud for predicting this moment perfectly in the movie. Joy is having the time of her life with Namjoon, unaware of Jimin decaying in the attic.

He quickens his pace in your cunt, and you bite him rather harshly at the sensation. He hisses with a chuckle; he likes it when you're impulsive. He can pick up the squelches from his thrusts because of how wet you are, and you climax all over his fingers in a matter of seconds with a whimper. You're twitching in your seat, and your hand strokes him faster but he stops you.

"In my studio," he says and you nod tiredly against his shoulder. The issue isn't that he doesn't want to cum in his pants, but the movie needs to become reality. He wants to fuck you on that one stool, with Taehyung's corpse decomposing in the backroom.

Jungkook always adds a pinch of fiction to his stories, but they're mostly based on true events. If you paid attention to the ending, maybe you would've realized that.

Lying is bad, but there are worse things in life.

[aminiatureworld]

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

 Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

 Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing  to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

 Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.  

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

[readinginthereadyroom]

let’s talk about christopher and santa claus for a minute. 

because the thing is. that kid is a national treasure and possibly magic. because he has santa’s ear. direct line to christmas miracles. 

and the best part is. it’s canon. 

but before we get to that. we need to talk about eddie being scared of santa when he was a kid. about the difference in eddie and christopher’s childhoods.

because eddie’s childhood lacked magic. santa wasn’t a right jolly old elf with a red suit and a belly laugh. just a creepy guy with a fake beard who smelled bad. a stranger he was forced to go see. that scared him so much he got sick. twice.

christopher’s childhood tho. filled with magic. when he was little and not feeling well (maybe around one of his surgeries?) and missing eddie. shannon caves. tries to cheer chris up with a giant tree for the backyard. but we didn't have enough ornaments to cover it, so we just loaded it up with lights and ribbon. I got the sleeping bags out, and we laid under it, just staring up at the branches for hours.

which is the most magical thing I’ve ever heard.

so really it’s no surprise that christopher believes in the magic of christmas. the power of santa. miracles and the christmas spirit. 

because christopher only asked for one thing that christmas. one very specific gift. not toys. not candy. he just wants his dad. w-when you were gone, I asked santa for you to come back, and you did.

which makes me wonder what time of year it was when eddie’s helicopter was shot down. did he arrive home in time for the holidays? with his wrist in a cast and his arm in a sling and propped up by a cane. wounded but alive. home for the holidays. which is all that would matter to little christopher. that dad’s back. dad’s staying. forever.

and since christopher’s wish came true before. since santa came thru before. why wouldn’t it work again? because christopher’s got his dad. a new life, in a new city, with a new best friend. and everything is perfect. everything except the lack of shannon. christopher misses his mom. so he forgoes toys and candy once again. goes with eddie and buck to see santa. I asked him to find mom. will he?

the answer is yes. because she’s already back. has been for a while. eddie’s just been reluctant to let shannon see christopher. because he’s scared she’ll break his heart if she decided to leave again. because eddie doesn’t believe in magic. and I think that includes happily ever afters. 

but christopher believes in magic and wishes. and eddie knows that. and he’ll do everything in his power to keep it that way. cause he loves christopher more than himself. loves that he believes in magic and miracles and santa.

because it allows eddie to believe thru christopher. just for a second. but seconds accumulate. grow. build. into something magical all eddie’s own.

so they get another giant tree. cover it in ribbons and lights. turn the floor into a wrapping paper treasure map for christopher to follow into the front yard. where shannon is waiting. mommy! mommy! I missed you so much. I knew Santa could do it again.

and then so much happens. by the time next christmas rolls around shannon has died and christopher’s survived a tsunami. and eddie has to work thru the holiday. buck too. christmas is ruined. 

we don’t see chris talking about santa this year. or to santa. I think that’s probably on purpose. this year is about the absence of christmas spirit. and how that absence radiates out into their lives. chris storming away. giving eddie the silent treatment. buck saying he’s working too.

missing pieces. lack of communication. absent people.

but you cannot convince me that when the holidays go awry. that christopher won’t turn to his old pal santa to fix this particular problem. that he won’t ask for another christmas miracle. that his family can be together for the holidays. christopher and his dad and his buck. it tracks with christopher’s history.

and the thing is. santa comes thru. via buck. who plans a surpise holiday party at the 118. ropes athena and maddie into gathering their friends and family all together. throws the biggest holiday party in the history of the firefam.

and now I’m thinking the s5 holiday episode would be the perfect time for buddie to go canon. buck and eddie have been getting closer since their begins eps. they’ve both grown as people. tried other relationships. neither of which work out. both of which they choose to end. 

actually, yes. I am into this. and here’s how it happens:

the sniper and the blackout puts things in perspective. which leads to eddie to breaking up with ana. buck realizes where his priorities are and he breaks up with taylor soon after. that’s when the shoulder bumps and playful banter starts to ramp up. they’ve always been in each other’s space and at each other’s homes. now it’s just more. buck and eddie become buck&eddie. 

there’s no big declaration or passionate kiss. 911 doesn’t really do that. what we will get is a buddie hug after a too-close call that lingers a little too long. and eddie doing his sustained eye contact thing. and buck reciprocating with his eye flutter thing. then eddie reaching with his hands. then buck’s blinding smile. then...

END CREDITS. because it’ll hurt so good. 

mid-way thru the next ep we’ll get confirmation in the form of carla. she’ll stumble over buck coming out of eddie’s room. there will be a little light teasing. it’s about time interspereced with domestic fluff. they will keep it to themselves for now. 

and then eddie’s parents guilt trip him into going to texas for the holidays. buck has a christmas eve shift, but has christmas day off. and plans with maddie, chim, albert, and the hans for jee-yun’s first christmas. plus holiday dinner with athena and bobby’s family. he’s not going to be alone. 

doesn’t feel that way tho.

and then there’s a scene at the airport that mirrors the end of s1. only instead of abby leaving it’s eddie and christopher. with buck and eddie both pretending to be okay. neither of them are. 

cue eddie in texas. where everything goes wrong. of course it does. helena and ramon keep making jabs about how eddie’s raising christopher. they will never think he’s enough. even worse they don’t treat christopher like an autonomous person. but a consolation prize. a parenthood do-over.

and eddie’s miserable. christopher’s miserable. they both miss buck.

there’s definitely a firefighter santa involved. a lesson about family being who you chose. christopher won’t stop talking about last christmas at the station. about buck.

which is why. when everything comes to a head over christmas eve dinner. eddie makes an executive decision. books a red-eye flight and bundles him and christopher off to the airport. 

buck’s out on a call when eddie and christopher arrive. it was only a 2 hr flight but it’s still really late. they both conk out on the sofas. and that’s where buck spots them when the trucks pull into the station. he’s doesn’t go all the way over to them. just watches them from afar. like he’s always done. 

until eddie wakes up. sees him watching. reaches his hand out to buck and drags him into their space. physically connects the three of them. kisses his hand. merry christmas buck. 

neither buck or eddie notice that chris is also awake. watching them with a mischieveous smile on his face. because christopher believes in magic. the christmas spirit. santa claus. and apparently santa claus believes in christopher because that man has granted each and every one of his wishes.

dad. mom. family. buck. 

christopher has been slowly building his own family. via christmas miracles and the help of his good friend santa claus. 

outside the window it starts snowing.

and it feels like magic. 

[j3tblackw1ngs]

Saiki K Christmas Headcanons

Kusuo Saiki

☆ as usual, Saiki will pretend not to care about the holidays at all

☆ yet despite “not caring,” he still ends up celebrating with you at a Christmas party

☆ for the most part, he’s in the corner drinking hot chocolate and watching everyone celebrate

☆ but when you guys put on a movie (and everyone shuts up lmao) he actually gets really invested

☆ i feel like he probably loves Christmas movies because they’re dumb and somewhat unpredictable, and there are so many of them so he won’t get spoilers

☆ he won’t admit this if you ask

☆ you don’t expect him to get you a gift, but despite everything he says, he really cares about you

☆ you don’t know how it gets there, but on Christmas day you find a present with your name on it under your tree

☆ he didn’t put his name on it, but it’s definitely from Saiki

☆ and it isn’t fancy or extravagant but it’s thoughtful and kind of perfect

☆ (you thank him with coffee jelly later)

Kaidou Shun

☆ he thinks about what he’s going to get you a long time before Christmas

☆ he wants it to be completely perfect so you know just how he feels about you

☆ (ask him though and he’ll say something about how Christmas is “just for mere mortals” or how he’s celebrating it to uphold his human identity lmao)

☆ the gift he gets you is thoughtful, but his Christmas card is what stands out

☆ Kaidou really has a way with words, and he pours his heart into it

☆ when you thank him he’ll get really flustered, but he’s overjoyed that it made you happy

☆ (i also feel like he really loves Christmas songs, but he tries to keep it a secret because it’s not “cool“ or whatever. but one day you catch him belting out Mariah Carey and he gets so embarrassed ajsfsjdkjdsf)

Nendou Riki

☆ honestly i feel like Nendou gives really weird gifts 😭

☆ but it’s really the thought that counts, right?

☆ he’s a good cook, so i also like to imagine that he bakes Christmas cookies during the holidays

Kuboyasu Aren

☆ i feel like Christmas probably wasn’t a big thing when Aren was in his gang

☆ so he’s really excited to celebrate it with all his new friends

☆ he’ll entertain you and anything you want to do with him

☆ it’s not that he’s disinterested, it’s just that seeing you happy is what he appreciates most

☆ when it comes to his gift, he doesn’t want to disappoint you

☆ he knows that you’ll be appreciative about anything, but he wants it to express everything he feels about you, as he isn’t the best with words

☆ (considering how he acts in the episode where he gets the confession, it’s clear he takes his relationships really seriously)

☆ i feel like he’s the type of person to get you something you mentioned wanting offhand once

☆ something you wouldn’t have expected him to remember or notice in the first place

☆ of course, you love it and that makes him feel so proud of himself

Teruhashi Kokomi

☆ Teruhashi would give you exactly the right gift

☆ basically just what’s expected of her (she is the perfect pretty girl after all)

☆ she stops by your house to drop it off, but she ends up roped into some activity because of course your family loves her

☆ but she’s secretly really happy about it because she wanted to spend time with you

☆ she catches you under the mistletoe multiple times just by sheer luck

Yumehara Chiyo

☆ i feel like Yumehara loves the whole Christmas season and the romance of it

☆ she definitely watches a lot of cheesy Christmas romcoms

☆ she makes you a really lovely card and a thoughtfully made gift

☆ she also tries to strategically place mistletoe for you to “accidently” find yourselves under

Aiura Mikoto

☆ of course, Aiura always makes it known how much she loves and cares about you

☆ Christmas is no exception

☆ i feel like she goes all out for these kind of things

☆along with a main present she gets you little stocking stuffers

☆ little keychains or lip gloss if you wear makeup

☆ and she definitely gets all her friends little good luck charms, probably based of your zodiacs or something

☆ she won’t let you say that it’s too much

��� "don’t worry about it, i get tons of cash from fortune telling anyway!”

☆ she also definitely loves singing Christmas songs with you

Mera Chisato

☆ she’s really poor, so she can’t get you anything extravagant

☆ her favorite part of Christmas is obviously the food

☆ she works extra shifts to get gifts for her siblings and one for you

☆ she’s worried that it’s too small, but you love it

Saiko Metori

☆ Saiko has probably been giving you things all season

☆ like a twelve days of Christmas kind of thing

☆ he doesn’t take no for an answer when you tell him it’s too much

☆ (but he pretends he’s only doing to flex, despite not getting anything for anyone else)

☆ on Christmas day, you think that he’s probably lonely in his big house with only his body guards to keep him company

☆ so you suggest that he spends Christmas with you

☆ of course, because he’s still kind of a jerk, he’s like

☆ “why would I want to spend Christmas with you instead of in my huge mansion with all my presents and money?”

☆ “Christmas isn’t all about presents and money. it’s about spending time with the people you love”

☆ he kind of short circuits when you say that, because he can’t believe you love him or that it’s separate from his money

☆ so he spends Christmas at your house

☆ it’s one of the best he’s had in a long time

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! 

I know it’s technically not Christmas anymore (it’s just past 12am where I am), but I really wanted to post this. Thankfully I’m finally free from the shackles of school (at least for a bit), so hopefully i can write a lot more (i’d love to hear any requests you have). if you don’t celebrate, i hope you had a great day anyway <3

[corpsedaydream]

not such a merry christmas

corpse husband x reader

-

hi hi so it’s 4:20am lmao i’m not kidding

so i know i said i wasn’t going to be on over christmas but christmas wrapped up late for me and i wasn’t ready to sleep and i just started writing and this is what came of it. i know that christmas isn’t always exactly a happy time for everyone bc family and holidays can be complicated sometimes. so if ur struggling or experiencing anything negative or just not rly enjoying christmas. this ones for u friend and i’m sending love ur way

word count: 2085

_______________________________

You had mixed feelings about this time of year.

The holidays.

On one hand, it meant you had some free time to enjoy some quality time with your nearest and dearest. And on another hand, it meant that you would be potentially finding yourself in situations where you would be spending time with family members who you would maybe rather not spend time with.

When you were young, Christmas always felt so magical. Now you were older, Christmas felt more like an anxiety inducing chore.

You’d talked to Corpse about your family a many of times, because for the most part, you really did love your family so much. You felt lucky to have been born into the family you were - again, for the most part. There was one particular sibling who you wouldn’t include in those feelings. Unfortunately, toxic people existed and extra unfortunately, sometimes those people were related to you. After four months of being with Corpse, he thought he had come to learn all of who were apart of your family. But then you were reminiscing on a childhood memory and when sharing it with your boyfriend, he heard a name he hadn’t heard before. When he questioned you on it, he noticed the immediate change in you. The smile left your face and you went timid and very quickly, you shifted the conversation topic. You were acting in a way he had never seen you be like before, usually you were so open and talkative and here was a brother you had never mentioned and definitely didn’t want to talk about.

He didn’t push it any further that day, figuring you would tell him when you were ready. That time came in November, on the 25th.

You remembered it well, Corpse was going through his emails when he asked you, “Baby, what’s the date?”

“November twenty-fi-” You cut yourself off.

“What?”

You were silent for a moment, you didn’t realise that Christmas had snuck up this quickly. It was only a month away.

“Baby?”

“Sorry- um,” you glanced to him, giving him a meek smile before continuing,  “it’s November 25th.”

He noticed that shift in you again. “Are you okay?”

And on that day, you opened up to him. Told him about the terrible memories that haunted days that should have and could have been really happy days had it not been for a bullying, negative family member. How now, you seemed to dread Christmas because of this fact.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Corpse had questioned you, he said it as if it was the most clear outcome, but it wasn’t like for you. It was so much easier for him to say that then it was for you to do.

“I couldn’t do that to the rest of my family.”

“Why? You can see them on any other day?”

“It’s Christmas, I couldn’t not go.”

“It’s just the same as any other day if you think about it.” As much as he had cared and listened to you opening up to him, it was hard for him to understand you on this. You grew up in vastly different family dynamics.

“Not to my family, it’s important.”

The two of you continued to go back and forth for a little bit before you realised the stubbornness you both shared wasn’t going to allow you to take in the other’s perspective.

In fact, the two of you didn’t speak about it again until two days before Christmas Eve. You were spending the day together because you were planning on leaving that night to stay at your parents house until boxing day. And as your leaving time was drawing closer and closer, it was visibly clear to Corpse how anxious you were feeling about it.

-

“(Y/N),” he had called for you attention and you looked to him, “I really don’t want you to go.”

A soft smile was offered to him. “I’m going.”

“But I can fucking see how this is affecting you. You’re dreading it, please don’t go.”

You sighed before answering him. “I have to go.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Please, Corpse, I don’t want to go over this again. I’m already feeling nervous about it.”

“Then stay with me for Christmas, you won’t have to feel nervous about anything, we can just be here having our own good time.”

You knew he was just trying to be there for you, but it seemed this was not something the two of you could find a common ground on. “It’s not that simple.”

-

But if only it had been that simple. If only you had listened to Corpse. Because you wouldn’t be where you were right now. Sitting in your car with tears running down your face. It was 5:05pm in the afternoon on Christmas Day and you’d made a dash out the front door while everyone else sat down to eat dinner. You had tried your best to stay strong, to ignore your toxic brother but when someone was constantly saying and doing things to try to bring you down, you’d broken. You wished you could pull it together, so you could go back inside for the people you wanted to be with, but you truly couldn’t take it any longer. You would call and apologise to your Mother tomorrow, you felt bad for leaving her the most.

You shouldn’t have been driving in the state you were in, tears kept blurring your vision and your mind was so distracted you knew you really weren’t paying enough attention. But by some miracle, you had made it to where you wanted to be. And in one piece and it wasn’t your own place. You were parked out the front of Corpse’s place and how you just longed to be in his arms right now.

Heavy feet carried you to his front door and before you could get the chance to knock, Corpse had already swung the door open.

“Thought I saw your car pull up- oh, fuck,” His tone was happy at first, surprised with happiness that you were there until he took notice of the state you were in. Your foundation was streaked by the thick and fast tears that had fallen down your cheeks. Your mascara and eyeliner tracked black lines, too. Your nose had the makeup removed from it and it was displaying red due to the amount of times you’d rubbed at it. And oddly enough, a Santa Hat was still sitting atop your head. Corpse had never seen a more gloomy Christmas Hat appearance. “Baby, c’mere.”

He wouldn’t hesitate to stretch out his arms to pull you in close and you so gladly accepted. When you were resting against him, his arms would be holding you so tight and yours clutching at his hoodie he was wearing, he’d kick his foot out to shut the front door once the two of you were inside. Small sobs were already leaving your body, but feeling the familiar and protective grip of Corpse really just made you break more. You were safe here, you were safe with him, you could get out any emotion you needed to, and so you did.

Sobs wracked your entire frame, it was loud, vocal and physical crying. Corpse had seen you cry before, but never like this. It was hurting him to see you so hurt. He was so concerned for you, he didn’t have to ask if you were okay, your display was making it clear you weren’t. When he could start to feel your feet starting to give out and your weight became heavier against him, and he not only heard but also felt you choking on your own cries and starting to really struggle to breathe, he felt the need to do more.

Gently, he’d bring you down to the floor with him. He’d sit with his back against the wall and grab your thighs to have you sit in his lap, your legs straddling him. He would pull you in tight enough so your chest and torso was completely against his, the two of you couldn’t be brought any closer if you tried.

“I need you to try taking some deep breaths for me.” He’d tell you right in your ear, needing you to hear him over your violent cries. And so you did, but each one was uneven and would catch in your throat and make you cough.

His hand would be rubbing big, deliberate, heavy circles into your back with a force to make its presence known, a tactic he hoped would calm you. He was caught off guard to see you like this, but after opening up to him about your toxic sibling and how anxious you had been to be around him again, he wasn’t exactly shocked. He was so concerned for you but a part of him was also furious that someone had treated you in such a terrible way to put you in this state. He now wished he had worked harder in getting you to stay with him, if you were with him, you were safe, he wouldn’t let harm - especially like this - come to you.

“I’m here.” Corpse would assure you with a longing kiss to the side of your head, rocking you back and forth.

And eventually, while sitting there, being cradled in his arms, your cries would quieten, your sobs wouldn’t make you shake so violently and your breathing would return to a more regular state.

“Feel better?” He’d ask you once you reached that more stable point and you’d nod your head from its place against his neck before doing a much needed yawn. “You’re tired?”

“Exhausted.” You’d confirm.

“Should we go lay down?” He was still holding you so strongly and securely but being so gentle with how he spoke to you.

“Yeah, I want to get some painkillers first, though, my head hurts.”

“Want to take off the Santa hat?”

“No.”

“What, why?” Your answer surprised him.

“I’ve had it on all day, I’ll have really bad hat hair.” You admitted and Corpse laughed and had you been in a better mood, you would have joined in on the laughter. But it did lift your spirits to even just simply hear him laugh.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“It will be.”

Corpse laughed softly again and shook his head slightly and when he felt you relax against him again, he brought up his hand to quickly pull the hat from your head.

“Hey!” You lifted your head then and he was relieved to see no more build up of tears in your eyes anymore.

“You’ll feel better without it on.” He argued your protest, smiling a small smile and you couldn’t help but to mirror it, which made Corpse elated to see.

“Okay, but don’t you dare look at my hat hair.” You told him and because he knew your eyes were on his, he intentionally lifted his eyes to your hair. “Corpse!” You called his name with a laugh and he was so happy to hear you laugh instead of cry. “Stop it.” You spoke through more giggles and your hands came up to land on your head over your hair until Corpse grabbed your wrists and moved your hands out of the way. “Hey!” Squirming your arms to get your wrists out of his grasp. Once you freed them, you’d place your hands over his eyes.

“Baby, let me look at your beautiful hat hair.”

“No!” You both would laugh then and this time when your boyfriend took hold of your hands to move them off of his eyes, it would be soft and he’d lift them to bring back his vision and bring your hands down a little to place kisses into the palms on each of your hands.

“You know you don’t have to hide anything from me, right?” On the surface, it could’ve sounded like Corpse was talking about just the hat hair, but on a deeper level, he meant this so wholeheartedly, and you understood.

So you’d nod. “I know. Thank you.”

And Corpse knew that once again, when you were ready you’d tell him about what took place on that Christmas Day, but for right now, he didn’t need to know. All he needed to know is that now you were okay and you were safe and you were with him.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 9)

Summary: The reader and Tessa spend their first Christmas with the Winchesters and their friends, resulting in an eventful night...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Please enjoy this final part! I loved writing this one and exploring everything this series had to offer!

_________

Reader’s POV

Christmas Night

“Hello ladies,” said Dean, popping his head out from the hall and into the room Tessa was staying in. “Mind if I steal your sister?”

“Go for it,” she said, jumping up from bed and rushing over to her suitcase. She pulled out a box and held it out. “I thought I left it at home but Y/N found it in the hall. It’s your other present.”

“The zip up was very nice of you already,” he said. He tore off the paper and you smirked from bed, Dean making a face as he looked at the box.

“It’s a mug. I made it in art class,” she said. He opened the package and went wide eyed, staring at her as he pulled it out.

“Tessa, this is really good,” he said, smiling at the little D.W. she’d painted on the side. “You made this?”

“Yeah. I’m good at ceramics,” she said with a shrug. “If you don’t like it that’s okay.”

“I have a new favorite mug,” he said, giving her a hug. “I can drink out of it, right?”

“Yeah. It’s fine for using and dishwasher, all that,” she said.

“Well I for one am glad you are getting your minor in art next year,” he said.

“Really?”

“School’s important but you gotta have some fun,” he said. “This is one of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.”

“I made everybody one,” she said with a shrug. “I gotta give Sam his still.”

“I think he’s out with Eileen and a few other people in the hot tub.”

“I was gonna go hang out with Jack, maybe we’ll head out there,” she said. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Make smart choices,” he teased as she walked out. You stood up from bed and walked out to the hall, wrapping your arms around his waist. “She loves me.”

“Yes she does,” you said, a big smile on his face. “You like that, huh?”

“Yes, I do. Besides, I gotta get her on board if I want you,” he said. “How am I doing so far?”

“Oh so you’re curious if I love you,” you said.

“More than you could possibly understand,” he said. You smiled and stood up on your tip toes, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“Dean. I love you.”

“Good because I love you,” he said.

“That’s very good,” you said. He gave you a kiss, resting his hands along your hips. 

“Wanna take a walk with me?” he asked. You nodded and let him take your hand, following him downstairs and into the foyer where you dressed in your coats and boats, hats and scarves. You walked out the front with him and down the driveway a ways until you were on the private road up there, twinkle lights adorned in the trees.

“This really is beautiful up here, Dean,” you said, your gloved hands laced together.

“It is. Never really thought this would ever be my life growing up,” he said.

“We had holidays like this when we were younger,” you said. “It’s not really about the presents or the lights at the end of the day though.”

“No, it’s definitely not,” he said. “I know we only got here yesterday but are you enjoying it so far?”

“More than. I don’t dread these things anymore. I don’t dread life anymore.”

“Can I ask what your plans are for once Tessa goes to school next year? I know she’ll be living at home but she’s gonna be out and about more often,” he said.

“I don’t really know,” you said. “What about you?”

“Sammy’s interested in the place two doors down across the street. He might put an offer in,” said Dean. 

“What ya asking Dean?”

“If you asked me six months ago if I ever thought I’d love someone, I’d have said no that wasn’t for me. But then I met you and things changed. I’ve never really asked if you’re a marriage kind of gal I guess.”

“If I loved him I would marry him. I’d have a family of our own with him too,” you said. Dean nodded and you bumped his shoulder. “Death is the price we pay for living. But I think what I’ve learned these past six months is that caring and loving someone is worth the pain at the end of the day. The pain subsides and it’s still there but it doesn’t destroy you anymore. So yeah, I’m definitely open to marriage and kids and the dog with the white picket fence thing.”

“My fence is brown,” he chuckled.

“I can look past that detail,” you said. “Would you ever consider marriage?”

“Yes. I absolutely would,” he said. You smiled and he squeezed your hand. “You think I’m gonna like...propose or something now?”

“I think I love you and anything else, whenever or if ever that may be, it would just be a cherry on top,” you said. “I don’t need a ring or to be Mrs. Winchester to tell me how I feel.”

“I figured as much. Safer to ask though,” he said. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and held out a small wrapped box to you. “Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

You dropped his hand so you could unwrap it, finding a black box inside. You took off the lid and smiled, looking back over to Dean.

“You like it?” he asked shyly, blush appearing on his cheeks. “Tessa helped me pick it out.”

“Dean are you proposing?” you asked. He cocked his head and you turned the empty ring back towards him, his face falling.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” he said, covering his face. “I never put it back in the box. It’s at home. Oh my God I’m so dumb.”

“Dean,” you smiled, tilting your head and wrapping your arms around him. “Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

“It would make this idiot very happy if you decided to marry him,” he said with a smile.

“M’kay,” you said, pulling him down for a deep kiss. “That’s a yes by the way.”

“Even if I’m an idiot?”

“Told you I don’t need a ring, Winchester,” you said. “Just need you...Mr. & Mrs. Winchester has a nice ring to it though.”

“Technically it’s Dr. and…” he trialed off as you kissed him again. “God I love you.”

“I love you,” you said, throwing your arms over his shoulders. He tripped and fell back in the snow, laughing as you went with him. “Fuck I love the shit out of you.”

“I second that,” he said, rolling you to your back and kissing you. “Your sister is a hard nut to crack you know.”

“Did you ask her about this?”

“She’s very protective of big sis...but she said some very sweet things to me,” he said.

“She’s a sucker for you guys,” you said. “But she’s not the only one.”

You rolled over and meant to put him on his back but you ended up shifting and rolling down the hill with him, landing in a big pile of snow. You couldn’t see him at first but he was giggling like a kid and it was just about the best sound you’d ever heard in your life.

“I love you,” you said as you sat up. He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned. You jumped on top of him and rolled around in the snow, throwing snowballs and playing until both your jeans were soaked through and the cold was getting to be a bit much.

“Hey. You want to warm up with me in the shower?” he said. 

“Absolutely,” you said. You walked back up the hill with him, picking up the box from the road. He threw his arm over your shoulders and tugged you close into his side. “Maybe we can even have a little fun in that jacuzzi tub.”

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled.

“That’s my boy,” you said, taking off your hat and pulling it over his head. 

“I can get used to that.” He took off your hat and his baseball cap, putting the cap on you and tugging your hat back on.

“You’re never getting that blue Henley back by the way,” you said.

“You’re never getting your black hoodie back,” he said. You stopped and he pushed his hat down over your face. 

“Dork,” you said, pushing it up and wrapping an arm around his waist. You walked up the road, chilly when you walked back inside. You took off your coat and boots, tossing everything on the rack. 

You caught Sam and Tessa peeking their heads down the hall, both of them in their bathing suits. They stared at you and Dean, both dripping water.

“Yes we’re engaged,” you said.

“Yes!” said Tessa, Sam giving her a high five.

“Finally,” said Sam.

“Don’t you two have people to go make out with in the hot tub?” said Dean.

“Gah, like I’d do that in front of him,” said Tessa. 

“I was having a perfectly good time with Eileen until you and Jack-“

“Goodnight guys,” you said.

“They got engaged!” shouted Sam, different parts of the house shouting back. Dean pulled you up the staircase and down to your room, locking the door behind you. 

“Hi,” you grinned, kissing his nose.

“Hi. Wanna warm up?”

“After you, sweetheart.”

Three Months Later

“I’m beat,” said Dean, arm slung over your shoulders as the two of you walked up the street towards your house. You’d spent the day helping Sam and Eileen move into Sam’s new house just down the road, sticking around to unpack dishes and boxes long after everyone else had gone home.

“Our boy is all grown up,” you teased, Dean leaning against you. “Happy Sammy’s so close by?”

“Yup,” he said with a smile. “I think us older siblings did an alright job.”

“We still have to get Tessa through college,” you said.

“She’ll be fine. She wants to major in medicine sciences. I may or may not be able to help her out there some,” he said.

“Nerd,” you said, getting a smack on the ass from him. “Boy.”

“Girl,” he said, smirking and kissing your cheek. “It’s not the easiest thing in the world, I know, but she’s smart. We can all help her out. Except her art minor homework. I have no clue on that,” he said.

“First semester will probably be the roughest.”

“She’ll be okay,” he said. “What I am worried about it the fact she’s making us dinner tonight.”

“Ten bucks says it’s box mac and cheese.”

“Oh she informed me that it would be epic. I have high expectations,” he said.

“Hm, that must clearly be a good sign,” you said, nodding to your front porch where a very burnt tray of something sat on the step.

“Is it too late for takeout?” he chuckled.

“Let’s hope not,” you said, climbing up the steps. “We’re home!”

“How’d it go? We saw the...wait...it smells shockingly good in here,” said Dean, taking off his coat.

“I’m a better chef than you two give me credit for,” she said from the kitchen, humming as she worked over the stove. “I burnt the biscuits but everything else is nearly done.”

“If it tastes as good as it smells we should have you cook for us more often,” you said. 

“Laugh it up,” she said. Dean pulled you upstairs and you washed off the sweat of working all day, changing into something relaxing in time to walk downstairs and spot Tessa setting plates down at the table. 

“Oh. Fancy,” you said, Dean pulling out your seat for you. You sat and he took his own, Tessa humming as she pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge and sat it down on the table. “Alright. What are you up to? This is way too nice.”

“Nothing. I knew you guys would be tired and you guys always make me dinner and stuff,” she said.

“Mhm,” you hummed, Dean smirking up at her. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“This what I get for being nice. I’m going over Jack’s,” she said.

“Make smart choices kiddo,” said Dean with a wink. She groaned and messed up his hair before she took off, Toast trotting after. “Take my car if you want, Tess.”

“Thank you!” she called back, ducking out the door after a moment.

“Well this was very nice of her,” you said. You cut into your chicken and paused, showing it to Dean and giggling.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll show her how to use a meat thermometer, make sure the food is actually cooked,” he chuckled, picking up the plates and scraping the food in the trash.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you said, picking up the bottle of wine.

“Yes it is. What are you thinking?” he asked. “Taco Saturday?”

“I want a big ass burrito,” you said. “With extra cheese. And nachos.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, washing up his hands at the sink. “Wine and Mexican food. Perfect combo if I do say so myself.”

Three Months Later

“You got me a car!” said Tessa, hopping up and down when she opened the front door. She ran over to it and pulled off the bow, sliding in behind the wheel.

“You were worried she wouldn’t like a used one,” chuckled Dean in your ear.

“I was not,” you said, slapping his chest, Toast running out past you. You watched Sam and Eileen come out of their house a few down, Sam staring over in your direction. “We’ll meet you there!”

He waved and they climbed in, driving past with a honk as Tessa squealed. 

“Alright, alright,” said Dean. “We got a graduation to get to, ladies.”

“Cheers,” said Dean, laying back on the lounger on the balcony, toasting his glass to yours. You stretched out and rolled over closer to him, kissing him gently. “You’ve officially survived the high school phase.”

“Why do I feel like the college phase is harder,” you laughed.

“She’s already got the college boyfriend down,” he said.

“Yeah but Jack is Jack. He’s sweet. She’s the one I worry about.”

“You’ll always worry,” he said, his arm hanging loosely over your shoulders. “Kids sound like they’re having fun down there.”

“She’s happy. It’s all I could ever ask for.”

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“I’m home,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. You hugged his waist, Dean shutting his eyes with a smile. “You want to get married next summer?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Come on. You gotta have some opinions on this,” you said.

“I kinda like the idea of a spring wedding. Maybe May or something. I wouldn’t mind honeymooning somewhere on a beach,” he said.

“That sounds great,” you said, his fingers dancing along your arm. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Shoot.”

“I almost asked my dad if I could meet you once you know. The boy from the mail room. You seemed...I don’t know, like a really good person.”

“Did I meet expectations?” he asked.

“Blew right past them,” you said, getting a kiss on the temple. “You happy?”

“I got my girl. I got my brother. Got Tessa and Eileen and my friends and Toast and this little baby, Miracle,” he said, picking up the sleeping puppy beside him. “I have never been so happy in my life.”

“Good,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Want to go see if there’s any graduation cake left? Bet it’d go good with this bourbon.”

“God I love you,” he chuckled as he kissed you. “So fucking much.”

“Me too, Dean. Me too.”

_________

[bonjour-rainycity]

Late in the Night | Part One

Prompt: Unrequited love/the love is requited, they’re just oblivious (Content Challenge Day 5)

Pairing: One-sided ( or is it ;) ) Female Reader x Legolas

Rating: G

Word count: 1847

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

A/n Hello hello, and happy Day 5 of my content challenge! As always, you can find the challenge’s masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. 

I’m making these last three days into a mini-series, so here’s part one! Also, for this story, I’m going with the “girl wakes up in Middle Earth” plot, but LOTR doesn’t exist in her world. So she doesn’t know anything about the characters or their journey. She just kind of fell through a portal between worlds. Y’know?

Translations (I think): Taur-e-Ndaedelos — Mirkwood // Eryn Galen — Greenwood

Reader’s POV

“And Miss Y/n, what will you do once this is all over? Will you go back home?” Pippin stops to let me catch up, bringing me into step with him and Merry.

I purse my lips, not wanting to give too much away. The others know that I have a bit of an, erm—strange— situation, but they don’t know that I haven’t got a home in Arda. We’ve had at least ten variants of this conversation already, and each time, I’ve managed to avoid participating. It seems my hobbit friend, though, is done letting that slide.

I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “I haven’t really thought about that much…” Just in case there’s no ‘once this is all over’. “But I guess I would find a human town somewhere and build a life. I’ve learned quite a lot on this journey, so maybe I could make a living as a guard or even a seamstress, seeing how often I mend your clothes,” at this, I throw a teasing look at Gimli, who blushes. Out of all of us, he’s the most prone to non-battle related injury, and I often find him trudging back to camp with a rip in his sleeve after simple tasks like collecting firewood or refilling his canteen.

Pippin ignores my joke, and now I realize that I have the concern-laden eyes of all four hobbits. “You…would not go back home? You wouldn’t see your family?”

I sigh, avoiding Gandalf’s gaze. He said I was free to tell my companions that I am not of this world, but I haven’t yet worked up the nerve. The stress of figuring out how I got here, why I’m here…it’s too much to burden them with on this perilous quest. I stifle a little laugh, my exhausted mind finding humor in the situation. Maybe that’s what I’ll do ‘once all this is over’. I’ll tell them that I’m practically an alien.  

Lost in my thoughts as I was, my silence drew the attention of Gimli and Boromir, and now I have six sets of concerned eyes regarding me. Great. I try to speed the conversation along so we can get to someone else. “Well, I haven’t seen my family in quite a long time…I think they think I’m dead, actually, and for all I know, they could be too…” This thought troubles me greatly, and I hurry to replace it with something else, forcing my voice to sound cheery and hopeful.“But that only means that I’m free to go anywhere—explore any place I like.”

Pippin looks quite heartbroken at my words, and I scramble to think of ways to fix it. But before I can, he grips my hand tightly in his, and I feel Merry mirror his actions on my other side. They look up at me triumphantly, smiling brightly. “You can come live with us, in The Shire,” Pippin declares, to which Sam nods earnestly. Frodo, as always of late, seems distracted, but offers me a distant smile.

A laugh of shocked joy escapes my lips, and I look between my valiant hobbit friends with possibly even more affection than before. “Do they even allow that? Big Folks moving into The Shire?”

“Sure they do,” Merry brushes away my concerns, appearing quite assured of himself.

But Pippin only shrugs, seemingly having not a care in the world. “And if they don’t, we’ll just sneak you in.”

“Gondor would be happy to host you as well,” Boromir adds, surprising me a little. We haven’t talked much on this journey, so it’s nice to know that he sees me as enough of a friend to invite me to his home.

Feeling much better, I squeeze Merry and Pippin’s hands. “Thanks, you guys. Really.”

{***}

We stop when it gets too dark for most of us to see.

“We are too far from Rivendell’s borders for me to feel comfortable.” Aragorn shakes his head slowly as he considers our surroundings and the potential risk we face. “I would ask that we keep a double watch tonight, and for many nights to come. Y/n, Legolas?”

Legolas—the only one of us who seems to have an endless supply of energy—jogs to a tall rock a couple hundred meters from camp, and begins to climb. I’m a bit slower to follow.

In the past three weeks, Aragorn has put me on watch eight times, the most only after himself and Legolas, and definitely more than our other companions. Sam shoots me an apologetic look and quietly promises to bring us dinner as soon as it’s ready.

I grab my cloak and follow Legolas’ path, trying to keep my annoyance to a minimum. After all, it’s not the worst thing in the world…staying up most of the night with Legolas, just the two of us.

He hears me coming and turns around with a welcoming smile, lowering a hand to help pull me onto the boulder. His hand is so warm in mine, so solid, and I find myself wishing he wouldn’t let go.

But of course he does, taking his hand from mine the moment I’m settled next to him. I tuck my hands into my cloak, trying not to lament the loss. Regardless of my quickly-growing feelings towards my elven friend, he has never given me an indication that he sees me as anything more than that, a friend, and I need to respect that.

He fixes me with a raised eyebrow, somehow both looking at me and the landscape over my shoulder. “Are you alright with staying awake tonight? It has been a while since you slept fully.”

I freeze, caught in a sudden burst of happiness. He noticed that? Has he been paying attention to me?

Legolas continues, and the fledgling hope that perhaps my affections for him aren’t as one-sided as I thought comes crashing down. “I could speak to Aragorn. It is no issue for me to stand watch alone.”

I briefly close my eyes, berating myself for my stupidity. He’s not commenting on your well-being, he just doesn’t want to have to be alone with you for the next five hours. He must somehow know of your feelings and wants to discourage them — because really, why would an elf want to be with a human?

I purse my lips, desperately not wanting him to know I’m upset. “No, it’s okay, thank you though. I’ll do my part.” My words come out a bit more cooly than I intended, but that’s just as well. Best to seem unattached.

He nods, giving me a funny look, then turns to look back out on the vast expanse of trees.

Nearly an hour passes in silence, then Sam visits, bringing dinner with him. Aragorn had managed to find two rabbits, so we eat well tonight. I savor it, knowing we might not be so lucky tomorrow, or the day after next. As usual, Legolas chooses to eat standing, not willing to sacrifice his careful watch over our surroundings. Knowing he’s got it covered, I sit down on the rock with Sam, having a make-shift picnic. Still, I keep my daggers close and periodically take note of the sounds of the forest, just in case. Sam entertains us with stories from his childhood and of life in The Shire. At a tale of how he and Frodo found themselves running from a furious farmer in the middle of the night, even Legolas cracks a smile.

But eventually, the food is gone and Sam is stifling yawns, so he bids us goodnight, leaving me alone with Legolas once again.

I stand, brushing the dust off my leggings, and take my place next to him.

His eyes never leave the horizon, but I hear his voice, soft, quiet, and almost hesitant-sounding. “Is it true that you haven’t a home to return to?”

I’m a bit caught off guard. During that conversation earlier in the day, Legolas was all the way at the front the group, leading with Aragorn. I didn’t know he’d heard that. “Uh, yeah.” I nod, trying to project a confidence I don’t really feel. “It is.”

He goes silent, and stays silent for such a long time that I think that’s all the conversation we’ll have. But then, he speaks again, his voice steady and deliberate. “My home, Taur-e-Ndaedelos, is not safe right now.”

“Oh.” I blink. Is he opening up to me? I try to respond delicately, not wanting to accidentally discourage him from sharing his feelings in the future. “I am sorry. That must be very difficult.”

He waves off my apology, meeting my eyes for the quickest of moments and then turning once more to the landscape before us. “My people get by. I only meant that, perhaps…well, if we succeed, and the Great Evil is defeated, Taur-e-Ndaedelos will be safe, and might even be called Eryn Galen once more.” He shifts from one foot to the other, something I’ve never seen him do. “You would be welcome there.”

A smile—the widest one I’ve managed in a while—spreads over my face, and try as I might, I am unable to reel it in. Because even after all this is over, when the time would come naturally for us to part ways, he wants me still in his life. I’ve always figured that it would hurt me to be parted from him, but I never dreamed that he would feel the same way.

Legolas seems to grow agitated by my silence, and turns to look at me with a measure of stress in his brow. But once he sees my reaction to his words, the lines in his face soften into a grin of his own. “Gimli is similarly without a permanent dwelling. I have extended an invitation to him as well.”

Oh.

Of course.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at myself, feeling incredibly stupid. Of course I would read into his words. He didn’t mean anything significant by them, he was just offering me a place to stay, like he obviously would to any of his friends. Because he is a kind, good, and noble ellon.

Of course he doesn’t feel the same way as I do.

I was silly to hope.

I try to keep the smile plastered to my face and not let him see my crushing disappointment. That would be horribly embarrassing, and I’m not sure I could take the pity that would surely be on his compassionate face if he had to verbally express his disinterest.

“That—” my voice sounds annoyingly weak, and I clear my throat to correct it. “That’s really kind of you, Legolas. Thank you.”

There’s a question in his eyes, but he doesn’t ask it, only nods once and returns to his watch of the forest.

For my part, I try to turn all of my focus to the task at hand, reminding myself that, even if he never loves me back, I am truly lucky to have such a wonderful friend.

A/n See you all tomorrow with part two! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! Also, let me know if you would like a tag.

Masterlist

Next part

[ch3rry3lossom]

♡ A Merry Christmas ♡

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

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

♡ Characters - Tendou satori, Tsukishima, and Kenma

♡ Warnings - None! Unless you are triggered by these characters

♡ Summary - Haikyuu boys and what they would like to do on Christmas eve ^_^ [Contains fluff]

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

-- Tendou Satori ♡

Will definitely wake you up early in the morning by jumping on you all energetic

Will bring you hot chocolate/cocoa and wish you a merry Christmas with a kiss

Tendou is up for any thing as long as it's okay with you

If you want to stay in and watch some movies then he will prepare snacks and pick a Christmas movie for y'all to watch

Will cuddle with you for warmth and just because he wants to be around you at this time

Very affectionate and won't stop telling you how grateful he is to spend Christmas with you <3

If you want to go out for the day then he will take you anywhere you want to eat. He will also insist on going to a main event where there will be lights everywhere at night and Christmas characters dancing

Will hold your hand for the rest of the day and give you kisses every now and then

Once the main event starts he will take you to a spot where there isn't that many people but also not too secluded either and asks if you would like to dance with him

You Laugh. Happiness filling you to the brim as you collide your cold hands with Tendous long ones. Your heart flutters as you stare into his eyes and at the many lights around you.

"Thank you for today Tendou" you smile at him as you get on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on his nose.

"Anything for you Y/N" He says smiling as he brings you close to him and gives you a passionate loving kiss on your cold lips

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

-- Kenma Kozume ♡

Will give you a forehead kiss while wishing you a merry Christmas

Already had bought Christmas themed candy and blankets

Kenma isn't one to like spending the whole day out and about so he would insist on either going to a gaming cafe or staying in and playing video games

Very big on asking you if y'all could check if there are any Christmas events going on in the games y'all play

Not very big on physical touch but will cuddle with you and give you small pecks every now and then

If you agree to stay in home and play games with him, he will quickly guide you to the living room and start opening Minecraft

Will download a Christmas themed gameplay or texture pack

Would also really like baking something with you, either some Christmas themed cookies or a gingerbread house

Would spray whip cream on your nose as a joke before licking it off swiftly

He's not big on physical touch like I said but if he sees you smiling and laughing, having fun he will hug you and bury his face onto your neck - this is kenma showing you how much he truly is grateful to have you in his own way :)

"Kenma look! The sky looks so pretty!" You say pointing to the screen and staring at it in astonishment.

"Idiot, it's only a texture pack" He says while looking at you

"Yeah but still! Plus I'm here with you and I think that's what makes it look even prettier" You say with a cheeky smile

He smiles and goes closer to you, hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder. "Thank you Y/N. I love you" he says as he hugs you tighter and buries his head on your neck

How did he deserve such a kind and patient person like you? He couldn't have asked for a better s/o

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

-- Tsukishima Kei ♡

Will nudge you until you're awake and say "Merry Christmas you dork"

Will jokingly ask for you to make him breakfast before bringing both you and him a hot Chocolate/cocoa and some chocolate

I can't see Tsukishima wanting to go out for the whole day but will accept going to a friends party or staying at home and listening to music

If you agree to listen to music and stay at home then he will pull up his Christmas playlist - I feel like in all honesty he would make a playlist for both of y'all for this specific day

Tsukishima isn't big on physical touch either but will cuddle with you and give you cheek kisses while playing with your hair

if you fall asleep on him he will groan in annoyance before looking at your sleeping peaceful face and smile at you - he might even give you a kiss on your forehead if you're lucky hehe

If he's cold he will nuzzle closer to you - if you bring it up he will tell you to shut up or he's moving

If you agree to go to a friends party then he will wear a basic hoodie and scarf and go with you

"I don't want to leave just yet!" You say pouting as you stare at your boyfriend tsukishima

"Well I do. We already spent enough time here, I'm getting tired" He says as he looks at you in annoyance

"Hmm well could we at least stay outside here and look at the stars for a bit please?" You say hoping he says yes

He sights "fine but only for a bit"

"Yay! You're the best Tsukki!" You say as you give him a quick peck before sitting down on the cold grass covered with snow

"Yeah yeah" he says as he sits next to you

A few minutes go by and Tsukki feels a Weight on his shoulder

He looks to his side and sees you fast asleep. "Idiot, you were tired as well" he says shifting a bit before looking at your face once more.

He sights "I love you" he says smiling softly before resting his head on top of yours and falling asleep with you

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

I hope y'all liked these little head canons or stories!

^ ^ Please let me know if you would like me to write about other characters and what they would like to do for Christmas Eve!

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Stabbing Incident [Pt. 3]

Summary: Beckett takes proper care of Donna and her injury.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1129

Notes: So, last chapter. Back into my cave I go.

Beckett pinned Donna and finally manages to peer into what she so adamantly hid for days.

Under her shirt, right where he had expected it, there was a flesh wound. It was a few inches deep in the soft skin of her stomach and, by the looks of it, it was badly inflamed. There was no bandage, but it smelled of plaster and magic, and it was raised and red around the edges.

Obviously, she has not been taking proper care of her wound, and she has not been using the correct magical treatments. All the time she had been hiding this from him had taken its toll, and recovery would be that much more difficult.

While it would have healed up nicely and quickly had they dealt with it sooner, with the help of someone who has knowledge and experience with healing spells, it was now irritated, explaining why she had been having such a hard time. It also looked very painful, only confusing him more.

Why would Donna have kept this from him in the first place? He could not think of a single good reason.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, more than a little miffed with the turn of events.

The underlying question was left unsaid. Don’t you trust me?

Beckett backs her up until her thighs hit the stone wall on the back of the hallway, all but forcing her to rest against it while focusing all his attention on this newfound offense. It is not as if he is just going to let her keep on her merry way now that he had found out what truly happened. Someone had to do something about it, and they had to do it now.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” She insisted. “It still isn’t. It’s fine, Beckett, and I’m fine.”

The college girl is well aware that, by this point, he was only half listening to what she is saying. All of his focus was now on her abdomen. Which, really, is not her favourite thing at the moment.

“I was taking care of it. I checked some spells from the library and I got the plasters from Shreya’s cabinet.” Donna insisted. “It looks ugly, but it’s getting better on its own. There’s no need for you to be upset about it.”

The brunet scoffs bitterly. “I decide what’s worth getting upset about for myself, thank you.”

Donna sighed, watching the male’s brown eyes shift as he glanced up at her, barely convinced of anything right now. She knows that he is going to hold on to this for a while, given the circumstances.

She could have gotten some kind of infection that landed her in the hospital aisle, or even gotten her killed at the hands of Raife and his followers. Naturally, it all freaked him out. Of all the people in the world that he cared about, something happening to his girlfriend would affect him the most, and, in all honesty, it hurt him that she would not come to him immediately following something like this.

Donna definitely should have.

“This is certainly not getting better, Donna. It’s infected.” He paused and glanced warily at her face. “Now I’m going to take care of it. Properly, this time.”

Beckett decided what sort of treatment he would apply in his head, not really giving her much of a choice in the matter. Well, it is not that she would have really minded. Obviously, what she was doing is not working. Maybe he would have better luck at actually getting it to heal.

“Yeah, okay.” Donna finally conceded, giving up the fight as the man she loved placed her shirt back over the wound and helped her to her feet.

This definitely is not something that he would usually be interested in keeping from their friends, especially her sister, and the professors, but if she wanted it kept between the two of them, he is not about to argue. It has been hard enough getting to this point, and he better get to work while she is still somewhat pliant.

She might not have been able to take care of this by herself, but he could definitely help her. She is an incredible student, capable of grasping magic he cannot even fathom, and the love of his life but he has been raised in this world and definitely had more experience than her.

Beckett has an advantage over her in this field, and there is no reason not to use every resource available to him now. Donna needed him and he was always going to be there for her.

*_*_*_*_*

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Donna states randomly, looking down at the boy who was currently busy cleaning up the mess she had managed to make of herself. 

Thankfully, the cut is not as deep as it looked, so she did not need stitches, but she definitely is not having a good time anyhow. 

The alcohol Beckett used to clean it had nearly knocked her off her feet and even now that it was all bandaged up, she could still feel the dull burning around the edges of the wound. It hurt, but she knew that the pain would soon fade and, in some ways, she was thankful for it.

Atlas had always told her, in that lovingly venomous manner of hers, that pain was a blessing, a reminder that they were alive and, more importantly, that they were still alive to feel it. It helped to look at it that way, twisted as it may be.

At the very least, it made her feel better about it. 

He shrugged, well aware that whether or not she feels bad about it is not going to make any difference now. “I know, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want to worry you either, if it was me. At least it was on training, and not on a real situation.”

She had a problem and she did what she thought was best for everyone at the time. Just because it turned out to be the wrong choice did not mean that she had to spend forever prostrating and apologizing. All that was left to do now was fix her up and make sure that this did not ever happen again.

Never. Ever.

As much as Beckett liked to take care of his girlfriend and feel useful around the Pend Pals, he does not mean he wants to have to figure out she was hurt and patch her up every time he turned around. She needed to be around to take care of him just like this next time, after all, as he needed her too. 

That was what they did for each other.

*_*_*_*_*

Stabbing Incident Masterlist

TE Masterlist

[michaelmilligan]

Day 22 of B&B's (@drgarth and @starrynightdeancas) Holiday Advent Calendar Event! (Aka you know the drill, it's Midam...)

Christmas Parade//Santa Hats//"Make The Yule-tide Gay"

Michael couldn't believe he was wearing a stupid Santa hat.

Well, he had adjusted his projection so that it would be there, so he supposed that he could believe it. That still didn't mean he was happy about it.

But Adam had insisted. And it was hard to resist when Adam's eyes became so wide and pleading as he asked for something. (Michael had tried reproducing that look in the mirror while in the driver's seat of their body, but on him it just looked weird.) Adam also had a tendency to wrap his soul around Michael's grace, essentially hugging him, when he wanted something. Michael wasn't completely sure if that was instinctual or a conscious decision on Adam's part, but it was hard to stay resolute when Adam's soul radiated both sadness and fondness right against Michael's grace.

And contrary to common belief, Michael wasn't a monster. (No, not even metaphorically.)

(Keep reading under the cut)

So now they were attending something called a 'Christmas parade' while wearing the silly Santa hats. It was moments like this that Michael wondered what his life had come to. Of course, he knew that he was far happier with Adam than he had been as the ruler of Heaven. And he'd had a lot of time to get used to many of the... peculiarities of the human. But that had been in illusions in the cage, not on Earth where they were surrounded by actual people, and could theoretically be spotted by an angel or demon at any moment.

He wasn't sure which one would be worse: Confronting a demon while wearing this thing, or enduring the ridicule of one of his siblings. (At least he could smite the demon.)

“What are you thinking?” Adam took his hand, turning away from the parade for a moment to look at him.

Michael hesitated. “Not much.”

“Oh please. You always think too much, don't tell me this parade has made you zen.”

“I'm not zen. I just don't have many thoughts on...” Michael gestured to a parade truck with the twenty-seventh version of Santa Claus so far. Not that he'd been counting. “... this.”

“So you hate it.” Adam sighed, but leaned into him. “You can just say so, you know.”

“It's fine. Not like it's the worst thing I've ever seen.”

“Wow, you really hate it.” Adam shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “We can leave if you want.”

“But you like this.”

“Yeah, but I like you more.”

“Well, I like you more than I dislike this. Just...” Michael shifted on his feet. “Can I take off the silly hat?”

This time, Adam full out laughed, and he dropped his head on Michael's shoulder, wrapping an arm wrapped around his waist. “Yeah babe, you can take off the hat. I just thought it would be fun for both of us to wear them, but if you're not having fun, take it off.” He pressed a kiss to Michael's jaw.

Relieved, Michael took off the hat and stuffed it in the coat pocket of his projection. It wasn't like he could just make it vanish with all the people around, even if none of them was paying particular attention to them.

“Sorry for making you suffer through the silly hat and the silly parade,” Adam said, more amused than sorrowful.

Michael smiled at him.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

One of the parade trucks had apparently decided that blaring Christmas music at 100 decibel was the right thing to do. Michael was instantly worried about Adam's eardrums.

Let yourself be light

“I think you got that covered,” Adam shouted over the music, grinning and putting a hand on his own chest, just to the right of his heart. It was something he did often, and not always consciously, Michael thought. That was where most of Michael was located in his body, and while Adam should be able to feel him at all times, he seemed to like the reminder, the power thrumming under his hand.

The song had continued, and Adam's grin only widened at his favourite line:

Make the Yuletide gay

“That, we've definitely got covered,” he said, squeezing Michael's hand.

“You're not even gay.”

Adam was attracted to all sorts of genders. 'Pansexual', he called it.

“But you are?” Adam asked in amusement.

Michael didn't even have a gender, at least not that he knew of. So being attracted to the 'same' gender was a somewhat difficult concept. Of course, his siblings mostly addressed Michael as their brother and people tended to use 'he' pronouns for him, not that he minded. But that didn't exactly make him male.

“You said that it was an umbrella term,” Michael said, and smiled when Adam's expression turned soft.

“It is,” Adam assured him. “Or at least it can be.”

It didn't really matter, Michael thought as Adam turned back to the parade, radiating contentedness. Michael wasn't attracted to anyone but Adam anyway and had no great need to label himself. In the privacy of his own mind, he had toyed with the term 'My Adam'-sexual (at first it had been Adam-sexual, but that could have meant any person named Adam, which just wouldn't do). But really, it wasn't of much consequence.

What was important was that Adam was smiling, and holding his hand. And that he still wanted to be with him the next day, and the day after that.

Maybe even forever.

[surrealsunday]

A Christmas Mood Tattoo snippet…

Notes: Merry Christmas to anyone celebrating! Enjoy this little snippet from our Mood Tattoo babies. It takes place just a few months after they’ve moved in together, but before they go away to Japan and get engaged.

There should be a part 2 of this coming that I intend on being longer – that will be NYE themed. This was just a little intro to get me into the writing zone again. I hope you enjoy!

* * * *

“Eli, it’s freezing.”

Eliott turns back to look at Lucas. From how his boyfriend is bundled up, scarf wrapped around his head in a way that allows only his eyes to be visible above it, one would think Eliott had dragged him out in the middle of a Russian winter. The temperatures have dipped below zero, but it’s hardly as cold as Lucas would lead someone to believe. Eliott’s just thankful the scarf is blocking the pout he knows lies beneath it. It’s impossible to resist Lucas when he pouts. As it is, he’s doing a pretty impressive job of conveying that pout with wide-eyed, watery eyes. But Eliott is determined enough to resist him… for now.

“Baby,” he begins, delighted by the way Lucas immediately huffs, “it’s not that much further. But if you want to turn back now, we can.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, and maybe it’s a little unfair. He knows Lucas won’t ask to turn back when Eliott is excited to go, but offering the option still feels like the right thing to do.

Lucas doesn’t answer. Making a small sound beneath his scarf – definitely a harumph – he grabs Eliott’s gloved hand in his own and continues walking. “Tell me about this thing again. ‘Cause if we wanted to watch a movie, we could have done it at home, under a blanket, with hot chocolate and blowjobs.”

Eliott chokes on a laugh. “God, I love your idea of a night in.” Lucas glances over at him, a smile clear in the crinkles beside his eyes. “And it’s not a movie. It’s a sound and light installation,” Eliott continues. “Remember that patient a week or so back who had the meniscectomy? She told me about this. She knows someone involved with the set up. Laura.”

Lucas nods. “The one who wanted to bone you.”

Eliott snorts immediately. “She did not want to bone me.”

“She definitely wanted to bone you.”

Eliott sighs, too charmed to be annoyed by Lucas’s stubborn belief that everyone Eliott meets wants to sleep with him. It’s hard to be mad about it when it really just comes down to Lucas’s belief that anyone who doesn’t want to sleep with Eliott must be a moron. “She was at least ten years older than me.”

“Yeah. And she wanted to get herself a piece of that.”

Eliott laughs, unable to help himself from stopping and reaching for Lucas, pulling him closer by his coat. “Get herself a piece of that?” He teases. “A piece of me? What piece exactly?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. His scarf has slipped down slightly to reveal the tip of his nose and his cheeks, both rosy pink from the cold. Eliott moves his hands up to cup his face, brushing thumbs against the flush of his cheeks.

“Don’t know why she’d want to,” Lucas grumps. A piece of his hair falls down, catching in his eyelashes and Eliott moves a hand up to brush it back, tangling his fingers in the strands. “Pain in my ass, you are,” Lucas continues with a huff, “dragging me around in the cold when we have to be up to work a full shift tomorrow and it’s Christmas, so you know it’s gonna be extra hellish and –” Eliott cuts him off with a kiss, pressing their cold lips together in what was meant to be a soft and gentle peck, but turns deeper almost immediately. He couldn’t even say whether it’s him or Lucas who does it, but it’s suddenly soft and slow, open-mouthed in a way that has a buzz vibrating just beneath Eliott’s skin. He pulls back only when he feels Lucas’s tongue licking at his lips. Lucas’s eyes are wide and dazed, his lips pleasantly puffy. But it’s only a split-second before they narrow in suspicion. “Did you do that to shut me up?”

Eliott laughs. “No.” It’s the truth. Any moment spent not kissing Lucas feels like a moment too long. And a grumpy Lucas, skin flush from the cold? There’s absolutely no way Eliott could be expected to resist such a formidable test of his will power. “And you get all my pieces. For the record.”

Lucas’s nose scrunches. He means it to be a look of disapproval – an objection to Eliott’s choice of words. He only manages to look even more adorable. “You make me sound like a serial killer – collecting body parts or some shit.”

Eliott snorts a laugh. “Remember when you said that before?” Lucas quirks an eyebrow in question. There’s a ninety-nine percent chance he remembers too and just wants to hear Eliott recall the moment. Eliott’s more than happy to oblige. “In the hospital. Both of us covered in puke. You pretending you didn’t want me as badly as you did.” Lucas rolls his eyes. It only makes Eliott smile wider. “You said our idea of a good time was cutting people open. That we sound like serial killers on a good day.”

“I said psychopaths.”

Eliott tries not to let his smile become too smug but it’s a losing battle. “You do remember.”

“You followed it up by nearly braining me on the tile of the showers. Hard to forget.”

Eliott sighs wistfully, flashbacks to wet and naked Lucas more than welcome. “Yeah.”

It makes Lucas laugh as he turns away again, pulling Eliott along by the hand. “Ok, so, this is a fancy movie. Still a movie.”

Eliott sighs, his breath puffing before him in the cold night air. Lucas’s shameless efforts to play dumb when it comes to all things art shouldn’t be as charming as they are. “A sound and light installation is totally different,” Eliott begins, throwing just the right amount of pompous indignation into his tone. “It combines totally different disciplines, art and engineering, and it’s more than watching a film. It’s multi-sensory and interactive, and –”

“God,” Lucas interrupts with a laugh, looking over at Eliott with such affection in his eyes, it still – even after so many months of being together – catches Eliott off guard. “You really were meant to be some pretentious art student, hunh? Just got turned around in the halls one day and ended up in medicine.”

Eliott grins, releasing Lucas’s hand to wrap an arm around his neck instead, hauling him closer. “Got me you.”

Lucas makes an amused sound. “Bad enough dealing with surgeon you. Not sure I could handle even more insufferable artist Eliott.”

“You would have thought I was hot.”

“I already think you’re hot.”

Eliott tries not to preen too obviously at that. “Hotter.”

“Not possible.”

Eliott glances sideways at Lucas, suddenly wondering how loudly his boyfriend might object to Eliott dragging him into the nearest shadowed corner to do unspeakable things to him. Normally it wouldn’t be something he’d need to question. In this cold however, Lucas is likely to give him a bit more lip. “Baby –”

“Holy shit,” Lucas’s awe filled voice cuts him off and Eliott turns his head to look in the direction of his gaze.

They’ve rounded the corner and the installation has come into view. Streaks of different coloured lights stretch into the night sky, moving in slow tandem. There are sounds – single notes – that play each time one of the light beams moves. Together the notes have formed a haunting sort of melody. The source of the light beams is several projectors, housed in larger, futuristic looking black boxes that showcase external digital, interactive screens. There are a number of other people milling about, pressing various buttons on the screens. “You didn’t say it would be this!” Lucas moves out from under Eliott’s arm, hurrying towards the installation.

“I said sound and light installation,” Eliott laughs as he follows. “That’s what you’re looking at.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say it would be this cool.” Lucas stops at a lightbox, staring at the screen and then up into where the blue light stretches into the sky..

“Pretty sure I did,” Eliott mumbles, coming to stand beside him.

“What does it do?” Lucas asks, turning to look at Eliott rather than read the instructions and artist statement to the side of the lightbox.

Eliott smiles. This is the part he’d been most excited to tell Lucas about. “Remember how I said it was interactive?” Lucas nods. “So, these numbers,” Eliott points to where you have the option of typing numbers into set lines on the screen, “control the lights. The numbers you put in match coordinates in the night sky. The numbers can be random, but they’ll find something up there – a star, a constellation, a planet… something. But not our sky. Or not exactly.”

Lucas looks away from the sky towards Eliott, his nose wrinkling in confusion. “What do you mean not our sky?”

“See. It’s moving,” Eliott points out as they both take a step back to watch as the beam of blue light slowly tracks across the sky, sounding a singular note to join the others. “It’s not us doing it.”

Lucas stares at it in wonder as it comes to a stop. “Who then?”

“There are matching installations in other major cities across Europe – Rome, Berlin, Antwerp, and other places, I think. They control our light beams. We control theirs.”

Lucas looks to the screen in front of him on the light box. “So, the numbers I put in… they’ll change the direction of the light somewhere else?”

Eliott nods, answering out loud when Lucas’s eyes don’t move from the screen. “Exactly. Someone else will be watching the spot in the sky you chose.”

Lucas turns to look at him. The blue of his eyes catches the reflected glow of the light beam, making them appear even more ethereal than they do normally. Eliott’s breath catches in his throat. “But why?”

“I’m not sure,” Eliott admits, tearing his gaze away to look towards the various beams of light moving together. “Maybe to remind us we’re all connected – we’re all looking up at the same night sky? That the choices we make affect others?”

“Wow,” Lucas whispers, turning to watch as other lights track across the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

Eliott turns to stare at his profile. “It reminds me of that thing you say… about parallel universes.”

Lucas glances back to him surprised. “It does?”

Eliott nods. “Like there could be another Eliott and Lucas in Rome, watching the lights tonight just like us.”

Lucas laughs lightly. “But this is our reality. The lights exist in different cities in our universe.”

Eliott knows that’s true. He’s not sure how to explain what he means exactly. “Yeah, but –”

“Eliott,” Lucas cuts him off, stepping into his space and reaching for the lapels of Eliott’s jacket. “I know what you mean.”

“Yeah?” Eliott breathes, leaning down to press their cold foreheads together.

“Mmhmm,” Lucas hums, his eyes slipping closed as he presses into the contact. “Lots of parallel universe Eliott and Lucas’s freezing their asses off to move light beams for one another.”

Eliott snorts with a laugh, pushing back to see Lucas looking up at him with a smug smile. “Brat.” He turns them both back towards the screen, moving a hand up to thread through the back of Lucas’s hair and tug gently. “What numbers should we put in? Birthday?”

“Nah,” Lucas denies, leaning forward to brush his fingers against the screen, “that’s boring.”

“Random then?”

Lucas nods. “Yeah, or like… I could put in a date. Like… the day we met?” He doesn’t look at Eliott, staring down at the screen in what becomes apparent is an effort to seem nonchalant.

Eliott smiles. “That’s awfully romantic.”

Lucas glances at him quickly. The flush in his cheeks is just a little deeper now. “Shut up.”

“Let’s do it,” Eliott agrees, rubbing a hand against Lucas’s back to prompt him to enter the numbers. “You remember the date?” Lucas doesn’t answer, leaning forward instead to input the numbers. Eliott watches him, his smile growing. “And you say I’m a romantic cornball…”

“You are a romantic cornball.” Lucas finishes, pressing the submit button, and stepping back. He allows Eliott to move behind him, wrapping him up snuggly in his arms. Eliott leans forward to press the cold of their cheeks together. “It’s a bit weird thinking someone somewhere else is watching it move for our numbers,” Lucas comments, looking up at their blue light, still and crisp in the night sky.  

“Yeah,” Eliott agrees. “There,” he raises a hand to unnecessarily point at the light beam moving, “they’re moving it back. It’s like they’re talking to us.” He brings his hand back to brush against Lucas’s arm. His tattoo is buried beneath layers and layers of fabric, but Eliott can picture it there. “It’s like magic.”

Lucas turns his head to nuzzle the tip of his nose against Eliott’s cheek. “Thanks for bringing me.”

Eliott squeezes him even closer. “C’mon, that’s not all. Let’s warm up.”

“We’re going somewhere else?” Lucas asks, looking sweetly disappointed.

Eliott shakes his head, turning to lead Lucas to a nearby bench. He drops the backpack he’s been carrying to the surface and motions for Lucas to have a seat. “I brought us hot chocolate,” he admits, smiling again when Lucas does, “and Bailey’s.”

“Now we’re talking,” Lucas laughs, happily taking the empty cup handed to him.

“We can warm up and watch the lights for a little bit longer.” Eliott sits next to him on the bench and goes about filling up both their cups from the thermos he packed, topping the cups with a little Bailey’s as Lucas hums in approval. He hands his own cup to Lucas while he pulls out the small throw he’d packed as well. It won’t provide much extra warmth, but it was all he could fit in the backpack. He spreads it across Lucas’s lap, leaving just enough material for himself, and he tucks them closely together under it, reaching one arm to wrap around Lucas’s shoulders, and reaching for his cup with the other.

They both sit for a moment, sipping happily on their drinks and watching the light beams glide through the sky.

“I brought something too,” Lucas says into the gentle silence between them.

“You did?” Eliott looks to him in surprise.

“Mmhmm,” Lucas nods, not looking away from the lights. “You said I wasn’t getting in the Christmas spirit.”

“Yeah,” Eliott agrees. “And you said it was hard to get in the spirit when we would be celebrating Christmas with cramped hands from doing sutures all day in the ER for – and I quote – morons who can’t even manage to stop being morons on Christmas.”

Lucas grins, looking at Eliott now. “And I’m right but…” He shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful and sweet. “I haven’t really wanted to get into it since my mom was around. It’s different this year.”

Eliott swears he can feel his heart physically swell in his chest. “Yeah?”

Lucas nods, glancing away and back to the lights. “And you love all this shit, so…” He motions a hand towards the backpack.

Eliott grins, reaching for it and rooting through the pockets until he finds an opaque plastic bag in one of the front pockets. The smell of gingerbread wafts from it the moment he pulls it from the pack. “You made gingerbread?” He might sound a little like a child on the cusp of teendom whose crush just said hi in the school hallway… but truly, no one could blame him. Lucas made him Christmas cookies. Lucas, who has been working shifts just as exhausting and back-breaking as Eliott, had taken the time to make gingerbread cookies because he knew Eliott would love them.

“Sof helped,” Lucas admits with a shrug.

Eliott stares at his profile, smiling so wide his cheeks ache with it, until Lucas – with a huff, of course – turns back to look at him. “You made me cookies.”

“Well, you deserve them.”

“Lucas,” Eliott begins prying the bag open, “that is so sweet, so thoughtful, I –” He cuts himself off as he stares down at the cookies looking up at him from the bag. “Lucas…”

“Yes?” Lucas’s eyes have widened with false innocence. He could not look more like the bratty bane of Eliott’s existence… love of his fucking life…

“You made dirty gingerbread cookies…”

“Excuse me,” Lucas sniffs. “They were wrapped up carefully. They’re quite clean.”

Eliott looks up, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You actually took the time to make gingerbread cookies…” Eliott glances around them for any nosey listeners before adding, “fuck.”

“Language,” Lucas gasps, so obviously enjoying himself. His eyes are lit up with mischief. “Those are Christmas gingerbread cookies. They’re innocent. You should know better.”

Eliott lifts one cookie that appears to be one gingerbread man taking another from behind. “Oh yeah. Definitely scream innocent.”

Lucas grins. “I liked that one.”

“Can’t believe Sof helped you make these.” Eliott can’t even picture it but the very thought makes him want to laugh and just not stop.

“He helped make ‘em. Idriss helped me find the cookie cutters online.”

Eliott gapes. “You bought sexual cookie cutters?”

“‘Course,” Lucas nods with faux authority. “Now we can get use out of them for years to come. It can be our tradition.”

Eliott stares at him. Count on Lucas to make something so ridiculous, so goddamn sweet, all at the same time. “You’re something else.”

“Thank you,” Lucas sniffs, reaching for a cookie of his own. He chooses the one very clearly depicting one gingerbread giving the other a blowjob. Gingerbread cookies are never going to be the same. “You like them though, right?” Lucas doesn’t sound insecure. Not really. But there’s a caution in his voice which is likely more a reflection of how much he knows the holiday means to Eliott – and his own desire to be part of that in his own, bratty, ridiculous way.

“Yes.” Eliott twists slightly sideways and doesn’t resist the urge to pull Lucas into a kiss. He pulls back with a gentle smile, moving his free hand to brush back the strands of hair fallen down over Lucas’s forehead. “I love my dirty gingerbread men.”

Lucas smiles. “Good.” He places his cup next to him on the bench and turns to wrap his arms around Eliott’s waist in a sideways hug, tucking closer into his embrace as he presses his head beneath Eliott’s chin. He reaches forward to tap his own cookie against the one held in Eliott’s hand. “This your way of saying what you want later?”

Eliott snorts, motioning towards Lucas’s own choice. “Was that yours?”  

Lucas shrugs, letting out a happy sigh as he snuggles into Eliott’s hold. “Guess we can have both.”

“How generous,” Eliott laughs.

“I am. Quite,” Lucas sniffs, sounding hilariously pompous.

Eliott takes a bite of his cookie, humming happily as he chews, leaning back to watch the lights for a moment, warm and more content than he can ever remember being. “I love you, Lucas,” he says, eyes tracking the colourful beams of light in the night sky. “There’s no one else like you.”

“Not so average?” Lucas asks after a moment.

Eliott laughs lightly. “No. Definitely nothing average about you.”

“Well,” Lucas sighs, his arms tightening around Eliott, “I think you’re pretty ok too.”

“Pretty ok?” Eliott snickers. “A high compliment.”

“Mmm. Only the best for you.”

Eliott leans down to press a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head. “We’re going to have lots of traditions together. This can be one.”

“Freezing our asses off with dirty cookies and hot chocolate while we watch a light show?”  

“Yeah,” Eliott agrees, near bursting with happiness. “Exactly that.”

“Ok,” Lucas agrees, more easily than Eliott expected. “Eliott?” Lucas adds after a moment of silence.

“Mmhmm?”

“I wouldn’t make gingerbread cookies fucking for anyone else.”

Eliott laughs, pressing his mouth down into Lucas’s hair. “I know.”

“I love you.”

Eliott breathes in the words, closing his eyes as he presses his nose down into Lucas’s hair and soaks up the way ginger and chocolate and other spices have somehow mixed with that uniquely Lucas smell. Eliott didn’t know he could love the way someone smelled quite this much. Lucas. His Lucas.  

“I think you’re pretty ok too.”

* * * *

* * * *

End notes: 

- I’ll post this to ao3 once I have the second part up

- The whole light installation was inspired by one I saw when I lived in Montreal. It wasn’t exactly like that but quite similar and I hope the way I described it sounded cool because it really was! 

❤❤❤❤

[ziaxkawaii]

Delinquent affection (Delinquent!Bakugou X Reader)

Pairing: Delinquent!Bakugou Katsuki X Reader

Length: 4,400 words.

Warnings: Swearing and possibly uncomfortable themes.

Summary: Your parents made it clear for you to stay out of trouble at school. You tried your best, but as a teenager, there's always trouble you can easily get caught in whether you liked it or not.

~It's said, that High school years will be the best years of your life...

~Perhaps for some, but to you right now it feels like endless suffering in some twisted mafia.

~You could precisely recall your father's words before he dropped you off to school on your first day. Before you could open the car door, he spoke:

~"Remember what we talked about. Don't get involved in any shady business and try to focus on school. I don't want my daughter to be a member of some street gang." You assured him that you had no interest of doing such things as you stepped out of the vehicle.

~"AND IF YOU'LL BE TALKING TO ANY BOYS!! YOU BETTER NOT-" You slammed the car door shut and went on your merry way.

~At the time you thought he was being overprotective and you still do to some degree, but now you can admit that you could have been at least a bit more careful or observant when it came to talking to certain people.

~Two months into your first year, you met most of the other first years and also became very good friends with some of them. You studied hard but you too had time for your friends. You would sometimes goof off but still kept it on the legal side (hopefully). You felt lucky as if nothing could ruin your happiness.

~That's what you thought before you encountered the person responsible for your current anxiety.

~Keiji Hatcher and his underlings....

~You heard from one of your friends that he was a second-year student who was no good news and that you should stay away from him. Or that was the rumor among the upperclassmen.

~You took their advice, but you ran into Keiji by the vending machine no one usually uses behind the school.

~At first he seemed just like any high schoolboy. But that image quickly turned into something else, when you kept on bumping into him. He teased you a lot and at one point it made you feel a bit uncomfortable, but you didn't exactly push him away.

~Day after day, his approaches got more touchy and pushy. You didn't return them as his only intention was to have you as his little pet, and you would never stoop that low. By now, you realized you didn't want to have anything to do with him, and you even told him to stop meeting you and that you've had enough.

~Keiji did not listen and instead brought his minions with him every time he talked to you. "Sweetheart, I thought it would have been nice to have some audience."

~No one knew about what Keiji was doing, and there really was no point in telling anyone, none of the teachers would believe you. Keiji was the son of one of the most respected teachers in the school, and he was a damn good actor when it came to covering up something, spreading lies, or explaining situations.

~You couldn't talk to your friends because they would probably think you were gross for hanging around with an older guy who treats his girlfriends as trash.

~And talking to your parents was out of the questions for obvious reasons. Leaving you nowhere to hide or seek comfort.

~That's how you've been living. Always on edge and checking every corridor before you walk out behind the corner, trying your best to stay out of his sight. Sometimes even that wasn't enough.

~This time he went too far...

~You were cowering next to the same vending machine you and Keiji met, crying and hiding away from the other students who still haven't left the school building, even when it was well past 5.30 PM on Friday. You hugged your topless torso tighter in hopes of either hiding yourself more or to just disappear from all existence.

~The only comfort you had at this moment was the lack of people and that Keiji was "generous" enough to only take your coat and shirt, leaving you in your bra while the bottom half of your uniform was still on. Thankfully.

~You attempted to dry your tears with one of your hands while the other arm covered your chest. You felt so humiliated, frightened, and exposed.

~"Why would he go this far?" You questioned while the tears kept on coming. You gave up on trying to dry your tears and started to rock yourself back and forth in hopes of helping yourself to calm down.

~"Why would someone do this?" You cried. You had no idea how to get back home. Your house was many miles away from the school, so you usually traveled by train or car. Your parents were on some business trip and they couldn't get you and you didn't feel confident to go on the train without a shirt. All of your friends already left school.

~With this realization, you felt trapped and out of options of what to do.

~"What am I going to do?..."

~"Oi! Why the fuck are you here?" You heard someone shout. You tensed up and hugged yourself even tighter out of fear. Footsteps probably belonging to the voice came closer until they stopped before you. You didn't dare to say anything nor to look up at the stranger.

~"Hey! I asked you a god damn question!" He shouted again and you started trembling profusely. What if he wanted to touch you too?!

~The blond male observed your hunched over being. He didn't notice it before, but now he could see that the girl in front of him didn't have any shirt and was clearly terrified of his presence. And if he looked close enough, he could even see a few hickeys on your neck.

~Bakugou stood up straighter and with a bit softer voice and expression, he spoke again. "Who did this to you?"

~You cautiously lifted up your head to look at the person speaking. Piercing red eyes looked into your own behind spiky but fluffy looking hair. The person had his hands in his pockets and a scowl on their face, but his eyes gave away that he was somewhat interested in what happened to you.

~You sniffled. "I-I can't tell you, or h- he might do something to get me b-back..." You whimpered as you lowered your gaze again.

~"So the bastard's him, huh." The male muttered mostly to himself but you heard him clearly.

~"Y-Y-You know him!?" You looked up to him again shocked.

~"I know that the guy is an asshole, but this is a new record for him." He said. "Don't get the wrong idea, I don't associate with that fucker even the slightest. We delinquents do our own thing."

~'Delinquents?...' You repeated in your head as you looked him over again.

~The blond male wore the school uniform, but he had styled it differently. His jacket was unbuttoned and instead of the usual white t-shirt underneath the jacket, he wore an orange t-shirt with a skull and explosions on it, without a tie. His ear was pierced and not only did he have a book bag, but he also had a second 'bag' strapped to his back that was more of a holder or a shield for a baseball bat or other sports equipment.

~Seemingly, he uses it to hold his weapon that the delinquents tend to carry with them at all times, judging by the shinai handle that was poking out of the top of the bag for easy access.

~He definitely is one of the school delinquents you've heard about, you couldn't deny. You thought you'd never meet them in person. Now the question is, what does he want with you? Why was he even talking to you in the first place?

~"W-Why are you here?..." You asked, not realizing that your tears had stopped flowing.

~"That's none of your business. Aren't supposed to be at home already? Calling your parents to come and get you?" To you, he sounded rude and impatient, but in reality, Bakugou was attempting to sound softer.

~He may be a delinquent, but he wasn't completely heartless.

~"I don't have anyone to call. I-I guess you could say that I'm trying to figure out how I'm gonna get home unnoticed." You admitted. You're already topless and embarrassed in front of a male stranger, mind as well throw a little more firewood to a house fire, right? It won't change anything.

~The blond male stood there silently while you were still crouched down. Now you realized that you oddly felt a bit better for some reason. You weren't shaking as much as before and your crying had stopped.

~Was it because you finally talked to someone about your problem and the stranger didn't make fun of your current state? You heard that the delinquents don't really care much about anything.

~Suddenly you heard the male shift a bit on his feet and it sounded as though he was shrugging something off, then you felt something being carelessly draped over your head and back. You jumped a bit from the surprise and looked up at the boy, now standing there without a jacket.

~He... He's letting you borrow his jacket?

~"Cover yourself up and go home." He growled out and began to use the vending machine next to you. You couldn't say anything. You just looked up at him in disbelief and he noticed your staring.

~"Are you deaf or something!? You don't need to stare like a creep." He shouted and it snapped you out of your daze. You quickly put the jacket on properly and buttoned all the buttons all the way. You picked up your book bag and you were ready to run off in the direction of the train station, but you stopped yourself before you could.

~The blond shifted his head to the side, questioning why you were still here. You had so much to say to him and questions to ask, but the only thing you could muster out was:

~"Thanks..." Before you ran off.

~~~

~The weekend went by in a flash. You did your best to study on an upcoming test, but here and there your mind shifted to the grumpy delinquent boy that lend his jacket for you to cover up. When those thoughts filled your mind, you often found yourself staring at the jacket that sat on your dresser.

~Thinking how generous it was of him to help you when you didn't even know each other. You didn't even know his name nor what year student he was.

~As Monday rolled around, you walked to school with the jacket in your book back for you to give back. If you can find him that is...

~Your day went on as usual. Attending classes, talking with friends on breaks, and then came lunchtime. For many, it was the best moment of the day, but you never looked forward to it no matter how hungry you were.

~Just as you got out of the classroom, an arm snaked around your waist pulling you along with them to the opposite direction of the cafeteria while whispering right next to your ear.

~"Did you have a nice weekend sweetheart?" Keiji teased with his sickly sweet tone. You shuddered in his hold and you tried to lean away from his face but his grip on your waist wasn't easing up.

~"I hate you..." You spit out and he only chuckled as he led you behind the school.

~"Ah ah ah~. Remember to watch that tongue, doll." He pulled you behind a corner and slammed you against the wall. His other friends emerged from behind the dumpster and were now surrounding you as you looked at Keiji's almost glowing eyes.

~"Now... where were we...?"

~That's how it went every time.

~After all of them left, you were left alone to fix up your wrinkled uniform and messy hair. While doing so, you looked at the time on your phone and sighed out of relief. Lunchtime wasn't over yet and won't be in a long time. Keiji stopped earlier than usual.

~"I guess he just wanted to only mess with me today..." You thought out loud as you fixed the tie around your neck and straightening the shirt collar to hide the new and old hickeys from other students.

~"OI!!" A familiar gruff voice called from behind you. You turned around and your eyes met fierce ruby eyes of a delinquent. Your momentary panic vanished as you realized that he was the guy who helped you last Friday.

~He wasn't wearing his uniform jacket which made you remember that you had it with you right now. You immediately started fumbling and digging through your book back for the item the blond male was probably waiting for. You pulled the gray jacket out, ready to give it back but he spoke and you jumped.

~"Why are you letting him do shit like this to you?" He asked and you looked at the ground ashamed and unsure while you unconsciously gripped the jacket tighter in your grasp. Should you tell him? Or maybe the better question was, Why should you tell him?

~He is a delinquent. They don't bother with the other students unless they benefit from it. What does he gain from helping you or asking you these questions? Wait... Why are you just now realizing that he probably witnessed or at least heard the whole thing happen a few minutes ago?

~"....."

~He was waiting for your response, but when you couldn't decide what you should say he spoke for you.

~"If you're not going to talk then that already by itself tells a lot." The blond stepped closer and you stayed put, clutching the jacket to your chest now.

~"If I had to guess... I bet he has something of yours that you can not give up for whatever reason or he knows an embarrassing secret about you, with that he uses you as he pleases because he knows you can't say no. If you did, he would break the 'pledge' or spill the secret." He was now standing directly in front of you while a bead of sweat began to form on your forehead.

~You looked away from him and down at the ground in shame and sadness. He saw right through you.

~"H- He has pictures of me..." You squeaked while still looking at the ground. You couldn't possibly look him in the face right now. "The day I finally decided that I've had enough, he practically ripped off some of my clothing with his gang and took embarrassing pictures of me. I saw them once and they look like straight out of a lewd magazine." Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you recalled the event.

~When you started high school, you didn't think it would turn out the way it did, and you didn't know exactly who to blame. Keiji or yourself.

~"If I don't do as he says. He will put those pictures into use and once he does, I'm completely done for." You finished. a Few tears now rolled down your cheek as you kept on thinking about the worst possible scenario that could happen if Keiji did what he said he would.

~It could/would ruin your reputation in school and it would only worsen if your parents heard about it. More and more scenarios went through your head and you finally snapped out of it as a napkin was thrown in your face. You flinched from the sudden attack and swiftly snatched the napkin before it fell to the dirty ground.

~You looked up and saw that the red-eyed blond was the one responsible for the gesture as he looked to the side. He clearly didn't know how to comfort someone sad.

~"Stop crying like a loser." He commanded and the look of slight embarrassment on his face looked almost cute to you. You smiled and wiped your tears into the napkin. "Crying doesn't suit you." You would've blushed at the comment, but your face was already red with tears so it wouldn't have made a difference. When you were done you realized you were still clutching his jacket.

~"Oh right, I almost forgot." You scrambled for the garment. "Thank you again for lending me your jacket, you practically saved me last Friday. Don't worry about it being dirty, I washed and ironed it." You outstretched the jacket and he took it from you by grabbing it from the collar and inspecting it for a moment before swinging it over his shoulder.

~With that out of the way, you repositioned your book bag on your shoulder and bowed to him as a last thank you. You turned around and walked around the corner to the nearest bench to eat your home packed lunch.

~Little did you know that as you ate, someone familiar was watching over you from a distance like a guard dog.

~~~

~Something felt odd...

~Forget that, something was off and it put you on the edge.

~It has been a whole week since you last saw Keiji or his minions. He hasn't dragged you to the boys' bathroom, the janitor's closet, or behind the school to have his version of 'fun'. You haven't even seen the guy in the halls nor anywhere in the school for that matter.

~You didn't mind that he wasn't around, quite the opposite, you were cheerful that he isn't here to breathe down your neck. But the whole issue was the reason why he wasn't here. The longest he has left you alone was two days, now it has been a whole week and you were now more nervous than ever.

~Was he planning something? Did he somehow find out that you talked to someone about your problem? But the last time you talked to the delinquent was more than two weeks ago! How could've he found out? Is he now going to get you back by sharing the photos!?

~The familiar feeling of anxiety crept upon you as you couldn't concentrate on the lesson that was currently being taught. The class was dismissed later than you would have liked and your other classmates headed out to grab lunch.

~You were wary as you stepped out of the classroom, looking both ways of the hall before leaving the classroom towards the cafeteria to eat with your friends. As you walked for a minute, there wasn't the usual pull on your wrist or waist you were used to on Mondays during lunch.

~It made you really wonder what was going on with Keiji, as you feared for your reputation, expecting the worst.

~"Didn't you hear? Hatcher is temporarily suspended." You heard a second-year female student speak from another table behind you. The name Hatcher caught your attention, so you pretended to eat your bento as you listened to the conversation.

~"No I didn't, I thought he was sick." a Boy spoke this time.

~"No he isn't. From what I heard, he and his friends were suspended for harassing a first-year student. Apparently it was so bad that Hatcher's friends got a two-week suspension but Hatcher himself got a two-month suspension! Can you believe that!" The girl laughed and the other students chuckled along.

~"Serves him right. He has been getting away with his disgusting actions for long enough. It's almost hard to believe that someone actually managed to rat him out. Guess Keiji felt overly confident." Another girl spits out.

~Your eyes were wide as saucers, as you comprehended the information you just heard. 'He's suspended?' You thought. You couldn't believe it, it was too good to be true.

~"Do you know who exposed him?" The boy asked and you focused your attention again.

~"Not a clue. Apparently someone gave the teachers a package with a note and a USB drive. On it was evidence of the assault and since Hatcher's and his friend's faces were clearly in the video, they were found guilty." The girl explained with a laugh.

~"How do you know this sort of stuff!!?" Someone in their table exclaimed and the girl just chuckled mischievously.

~"I have my ways~." She sang. The second-years kept on bickering while you sat there stunned.

~Someone gave the teachers the evidence in a package? Meaning even the teachers don't know who the 'rumor-monger' was. Who would go out of their way to keep their identity a secret? Who even knew about the assault anyways?

~Then it hit you like a brick and you hurriedly packed your stuff with little explanation to your friends as to why you were leaving. You blindly ran through the school halls, courtyard, and on the rooftop of the school looking for the boy. With no success.

~Then you remembered that he was a delinquent and that they don't hang around in the places where the other students would. You hit yourself on the forehead with a giant L and bolted down the stairs, beginning to run to the back of the school where you always saw him.

~Soon you were out of breath and you leaned against the vending machine that no one usually used. You cursed your low stamina and prepared to run off again when a figure emerged out of nowhere.

~"Oi! What are you doing here?"

~'Of course it's always him who finds me.' You humored in your mind as you straitened up and turned to the blond boy. He had his usual annoyed look on his face with his hair pointing in every which direction and his hands were buried in his pockets.

~His tone of voice sounded pretty normal, but you swore you could identify a tone that told you he was half expecting you to show up sooner or later. You walked over to him and he eyed you wearily with his ruby eyes.

~"It was you... I know It was you!" You told him and he stayed put. "You exposed Keiji of his wrongdoings and got him suspended." You exclaimed in shock that he actually managed to do it but also in gratefulness that he went out of his way to do so. The blond smirked for the first time in front of you as he huffed.

~"He was a disgusting extra who thought he had everyone wrapped around his fingers. Not only did that bastard harass girls, but he also often got me and my friends in trouble. So when I heard about what he was doing to you, I recorded evidence of him right in the act for a couple of days and gave it to the teachers to handle the rest. Simple and easy." He explained as he shifted his weight on one foot and lifted his hand in the air to further showcase how simple his stunt was.

~"So you're telling me you did it because you wanted him off your back and not mine?" You inquired half-joking and half-serious, not even caring about the fact that he had been recording you. He looked to the side blushing a faint pink.

~"He was a complete asshole, I would have done it even if he didn't bother us, so I could watch him suffer for his actions. You happened to be just the perfect reason to use as an example." You blushed at his words and smiled slightly. Then you realized something and your smile fell.

~"But he still probably has the photos! H- He still could get his revenge and-"

~"I already took care of it." He stopped your panicking by placing a hand on your head, making you stand still. "Me and my pals confronted him and made him spill what devices he stored the photos in he took of his victims. We stole his phone and also his friends' phones and broke them. He was too confident that no one would find out that he didn't save them anywhere else. a Moron move if you ask me." He further explained and you calmed down under his surprisingly gentle touch.

~"So... I'm finally free?" You questioned to confirm just in case.

~"That's right, whatever he tries, you don't need to do shit." He smirked and lifted his hand off and buried it back into his pocket. Your smile returned and you couldn't hold the laughter in as you giggled from happiness.

~Finally it's over. Now you don't need to do gross things with him and you can now wake up without worry every day.

~"I owe you so much!" You said while laughing and he 'tch'ed.

~"What can someone like you offer to a delinquent who can get anything from other students just by intimidating them?" He challenged. You dug into your bag and pulled out an unopened bento box.

~"For starters, I can offer you this extra bento I made." You offered it to him and he lifted his brows as he took it. "I was supposed to give it to my friend but she wasn't at school today, so you can have it, plus I doubt you have your own lunch." You dug out your own and walked to the old-ish bench next to the vending machine and sat on it, he eyed the green container once more before following your lead and sitting on the opposite end of the bench to begin eating.

~You were right. He, in fact, didn't have lunch to eat today.

~You sat there in a newfound peace as the birds in a nearby tree happily chirped. You smiled. For the first time in a while, you felt at ease and able to breathe. Feel as free as the bird in that tree or in the sky.

~It was funny. You were eating lunch next to a delinquent who has a reputation as an intimidating and violent person, but you felt safe. In reality, the delinquents are people too and they only attack if someone approached them first.

~'He is interesting for sure.' You thought as you scooped more rice in your mouth.

~"What's your name?" He suddenly spoke and you looked at him. Oh right, you don't even know each other's names.

~"My name is (L/N) (Y/N), and you are?"

~"Bakugou Katsuki."

[let-it-raines]

What a Lie We’re In (3/3)

Summary: All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I had such a fun time writing this trope-filled, ridiculous story, and you all have made it better with your excitement over it! I was not expecting that at all, and it’s been a fun ride! I hope you enjoy this last chapter! 🎄❤️

Ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: One | Two | Three

-/-

Oh my God.

Like, oh my freaking God.

Emma groans. Or at least she thinks she does. She can’t hear much of anything over the pounding of her heart and the hissing steam coming out of her ears like an angry animated character.

Seriously, Mom. Seriously. What the hell?

“No,” Emma manages to say, pulling back from Killian. She snatches her hands away from his chest and moves her lips from his mouth, but the bastard still has his hand planted on her ass, keeping her pressed against him on the kitchen table.

Oh shit. She was just about to sleep with Killian on the kitchen table where she did her homework growing up, where she has breakfast with her family.

She was just about to sleep with Killian.

What the hell is wrong with her? Did she take medication she’s not aware of because this is...this is definitely not her.

(Or it is, but she doesn’t want to admit it.)

“Yes,” Killian mutters seconds after her. “Yes, you were.”

She gapes at him and then slaps his chest, and he glances away from her mom to look at her, eyebrows raised and slightly swollen lips smirking at him. It makes her realize her face is sensitive from the scratch of his beard, and she reaches up to touch her mouth.

What is she doing? What has she done?

Emma shakes her head. “What are you doing down here? You and Dad went to bed.”

“Um,” her mom hums, switching her feet, “I was going to get some water, but I don’t need it now. I’ll go back to bed and see you two in the morning. Happy Christmas Eve, Emma. Killian. Goodnight.”

“Happy Christmas Eve, ma’am,” Killian says back. Emma doesn’t think she can speak anymore, especially when Killian’s hand is still on her ass.

Emma was buzzing earlier tonight. That is long gone.

She watches as her mom walks away, the old stairs giving away her movements, and even when all the noise begins to disappear, Emma finds her feet planted in the same place they were. That has to stop.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, pulling back from Killian enough that they’re separated. “Oh my God. What the hell?”

Emma starts pacing, her hands tugging on her hair, and she really, really wants to scream at the top of her lungs right now despite knowing that would be a bad idea. The last thing she needs is her dad waking up and coming downstairs to find her in the state she’s in. The state Killian’s in too. His pants are ridiculously tight, and they don’t hide much.

Holy crap, she did that.

“Emma, love,” Killian begins, and she does a horrible job at ignoring how destroyed his voice sounds, “that was – ”

Emma spins around to look at him. “A one-time thing,” she finishes. “We can’t do that again. We’re tipsy, we’re not thinking straight. We just need…what we need is to get ready for bed and sleep it off. Tomorrow is Christmas, and then we’ll be going home early the next day. They’ll be no more of this idiotic putting on a show for my parents, and we’ll get back to thinking like rational people. Agreed?”

He looks down before looking at her. “Aye, agreed.” Killian stands from the table and brushes past her. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a cold and bracing shower. Feel free to finish making your hot cocoa.”

He walks out of the room, and Emma is left in the kitchen staring at everything spread out across the counter and the now-cooled milk sitting in the pan on the stove. Her body is still on edge, desire a permanent fixture deep in her belly, but she refuses to think about any of that. She had her little moment of fun, and now it’s gone. She’s back to just trying to survive this time at home before she gets to go back to Boston and try to survive her time there as well.

What an awesome recurring theme for her life.

Emma puts away all the hot chocolate ingredients, pouring the milk down the drain and rinsing off the pan before she turns off all the lights downstairs and walks upstairs. Killian is in the bathroom, so she strips out of her dress in her room and quickly changes into some pajamas she bought today on their way to the play. That dress was freezing last night, and she needed something that covered a lot more of her skin since she still hasn’t managed to get around to washing her clothes.

She’s so glad she did that now.

She makes do with makeup remover wipes, hoping her skin forgives her for one night of not washing her face, and she does the same with her toothpaste, rubbing it on her teeth with her finger. She could wait until Killian gets out of the shower, but since she knows exactly what he’s doing in there, she’d rather just deal with the cards she’s been dealt and go to bed. That way she doesn’t have to see him or talk to him for the rest of the night. It’ll be better that way. There will be fewer opportunities for her to mess everything up.

Emma turns her ceiling fan off, hating the way it creaks when it spins, and gets under the covers, pulling them up and basking in how warm her bed is. She needs to invest in one of these mattress heaters back in Boston because damn, this is great.

She’s comfortable, tired, still a little tipsy despite her mom’s interruption sobering her, and on any other night, she’d easily be able to fall asleep. Tonight, her mind has decided to run a marathon in record-setting time.

Seriously. What’s wrong with her? Why would she do this? Why is she always making dumb decisions like this? It’s got to be a medical condition at this point, and whatever pills she needs to go on to make it stop, Emma is willing to sign up.

Why would she kiss Killian?

He was the one who started it, sure. She was going to make them hot chocolate even if it was her third mug of the day, and they were probably just going to chill on the couch and find a movie to watch like they’d been doing most of the day. Then Killian came up to her and pressed up against her. He was so warm and smelled fantastic, and when he ran his nose against her ear, Emma could have melted.

She doesn’t melt over guys. Nope. She is not that type of girl. She is not freaking Frosty the Snowman.

It’s a physical attraction. That must be it. She knows he’s hot, she knows he thinks she’s hot, and it’s not something they’ve necessarily denied all this time. There are always jokes and little looks and a hell of a lot of teasing moments, but it’s never been anything deeper than that.

More importantly, they’ve never acted on any of it.

Tonight was just a blip on the radar, the one-time thing like she said, and when they get home, everything will be normal. This week and all of its weirdness will be forgotten. If not, she’s going to have to go sleep on Ruby and Dorothy’s couch.

The bedroom door slides open, a sliver of light from the hallway coming in with Killian, and Emma closes her eyes. She tries not to move, to fall asleep, but she’s aware of every one of Killian’s steps as he closes the door behind him and gets into the bed. He shifts a little, but other than that, he stays far enough away that she can barely feel the heat of his body.

Good. He can stay far away, and Emma can get a peaceful night’s sleep.

-/-

Emma doesn’t get a peaceful night’s sleep.

Not even close.

She never really drifts off. Instead, it’s this constant almost. She almost falls asleep all night long, but instead of blacking out into darkness, she lives in this state of dark gray. So close but so far away from what she wants.

They made a mistake. That’s all that happened, and Emma has to live with that. It won’t be nearly this awkward when she and Killian go back home. Then they’ll have their own rooms, and more importantly, their own beds. This will all be some distant, funky little memory. Emma can act like it’s all fine and normal for the next twenty-four hours.

She’s been acting like things are normal with her parents for years. She can do the same thing with Killian Jones.

Emma sighs and flips over. Killian is still on his back, his chest rising and falling slowly, and she’s jealous he can sleep so peacefully. She’s jealous that his mind isn’t running and freaking out over everything. He probably got everything he wanted out of her and is moving on fine.

That’s the attitude she should have.

Emma flips again, grabbing her phone off the nightstand. It’s five in the morning, and usually, she’s not allowed downstairs this early on Christmas morning. But she’s twenty-eight. It’s not like she believes a magical old man is climbing down the chimney leaving presents anymore.

Quietly, Emma gets out of bed and takes her phone with her. She walks downstairs and makes a beeline for the coffee maker. It takes far longer than it should to be ready, but eventually it’s ready. Her dad will make them a big breakfast this morning like he has most mornings she’s been here, so Emma doesn’t bother fixing herself food. She shivers at the thought of having to eat at the table and be able to keep a normal conversation with her parents. Ignoring that awful thought, she moves to the living room with her coffee and turns on the TV.

Emma is unsure of what exactly she’s watching for the next several hours but in the darkness of the morning with the Christmas tree glowing next to her, it’s enough to make her forget everything until her parents come walking down the stairs and the dark thoughts rear their ugly heads.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” David greets at the same time Mary Margaret says, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Emma returns with a smile.

“Where’s Killian?”

“Still asleep.”

“Why don’t you go wake him?” her dad asks. “I could use a hand cooking breakfast.”

“I think I’ll let him sleep for a little bit more, but I’ll get him before you start cooking the eggs, okay?”

David leans down over her and kisses the crown of her head. “Sounds perfect.”’

The movie on the television ends, the credits quickly rolling before another one starts. She doesn’t recognize it and knows it’s probably not any good, but she watches it anyway. When she was a kid, Christmas morning was so different. She’d wait at the top of the stairs and then rush down them when she was allowed to see what Santa left under the tree. It was like real-world magic.

When did Emma lose that sense of wonder?

The stairs groan behind her, and Emma turns to see Killian walking down them, hair and t-shirt rumpled. He got the memo on not bothering to do anything with his appearance, apparently.

Suddenly, she’s thankful to have her mother here as a buffer. He won’t try to talk to her about last night when they’re still faking it in front of her parents. For the first time this entire trip, she hopes her mom never leaves to go sit in another room and talk on the phone with one of her friends.

“Morning, darling,” Killian whispers when he walks up to her. Emma cranes her neck back, putting on the show for her mom, but she nearly jumps when he leans down and lightly presses his lips over hers. They haven’t been doing that. It’s strictly been cheek or forehead. Bastard. “Happy Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you. I think Dad wanted you to help him cook breakfast. Are you up for that?”

He smiles. “I knew I’d grow on Dave. I’d love to help. You just stay on your ass and watch TV, being the most unhelpful person in this house.”

“Watch it, Jones.”

Killian’s brows dance across his forehead, and he teasingly grabs onto her earlobe before walking into the kitchen. Emma shakes her head and smiles as she brings her coffee mug to her lips.

“I’m so glad you’ve found Killian,” her mom sighs from her spot on the other end of the couch. “It’s good to see you happy now that you’ve found him. You’ve been so miserable lately.”

You have got to be kidding me, Emma thinks, her knuckles going white around her mug. She tries to take a few deep breaths, to calm herself down, but it’s been year after year of this same damn conversation without her mom listening.

Sometimes Emma thinks she’s shouting from the rooftop of an abandoned building with only empty rooms around to hear her.

If a woman yells in a forest and no one is around to hear her, does she really make a sound?

“I’m so sick of this, Mom,” Emma sighs, placing her mug down on the coffee table and bringing her knees to her chest. “I love you. I do. And most of the time I can understand where you’re coming from, but I was happy before I found Killian. Not totally, but I was happy. And you never seem to get that. You think I have to be in a relationship to have self-worth. God, is that why you’re still so friendly with Neal? I can’t think of any other reason other than you feel like I need to be with someone.”

“He’s a good man, sweetie. He was your first love. He’s – ”

“He’s not a good man!” Emma slaps her hands against her shin. “He broke my heart and ruined my life! He made me not pursue a stable future because he convinced me he knew what was best for me and then left me with nothing in the middle of the night. That isn’t a good man. That’s the opposite of a good man. If you had ever bothered to ask me why we broke up instead of immediately assuming I did something wrong, maybe you’d know that instead of inviting him into our house and acting like everything is fine.”

It feels damn to get all of that out even if Emma knows she’s about to send her mother into a tailspin.

That’s years of pent-up resentment and anger, or at least the beginning of it, and it’s…it’s, well, cathartic, even if it’s only the beginning.

“But he was - ”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma laughs, and she hopes the fan in the kitchen is loud enough that her dad and Killian don’t hear, “if you say he was my first love, I will leave this house right now and never come back. I get that you and Dad worked out, but that’s because you’re good for each other. I can guarantee Dad never abandoned you in the middle of the night, and I can especially guarantee that he didn’t pretty much emotionally abuse you for years of your relationship. Do you know what it’s like to have the one person in the world you love most basically tell you that you’re nothing? I’m not nothing. I was never nothing, but Neal could never see that.”

Emma hasn’t thought about her relationship with Neal in years. It’s something she pushes back and hopes to never have to deal with, and yet, here she is digging it all up because her mom made a comment Emma couldn’t let go.

Merry Christmas to us all.

“Emma, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Emma shrugs and looks into the living room where Killian and her dad are standing side by side cooking. She’s pretty sure her dad is about to try to poison Killian or stab him with a kitchen knife, but that’s a problem for another time. “But you should have. You should have when I called you crying, you should have when I told you I wanted to change my name because I felt like it could be a fresh start as my own person with no one holding me back. Instead you demonized me and put Neal up on a pedestal that you’re still putting him on. He’s engaged, Mom. I’m with - well, like you said, I’m with Killian. And even if neither of those things were true, you should be able to listen to me enough to know that being with him has never been good for me. So, please, God, just let me live with my life. I’m never going to be you. I’m never going to be perfect.”

Her mom wipes underneath her eyes, and Emma now feels like the shittiest person in the world for making her mom cry before eight on Christmas morning. How can she be so pissed off and sympathetic all at once?

“I am obviously not perfect,” Mary Margaret sniffles. “You’re my only daughter, and I apparently haven’t known you at all despite trying. I just can’t believe you changed your name. Was that really necessary? I - ”

“Nope.” Emma holds her hand up and stands from her chair. “I’m not having this conversation again. Maybe at another time we can hash all of our shit out, but I really don’t feel like doing it right now. I can’t get into that with you again.”

Emma picks her mug up from the coffee table and walks into the kitchen where Killian is moving a plate of her dad’s pancakes to the table.

“Mmm,” Emma sighs, “something smells delicious.”

Killian nearly drops the plate to the floor, but he saves it at the last minute. It’s not until he looks at Emma with raised brows and a million forehead lines that she realizes what she’s said.

Yeah, nearly having sex on her parents’ kitchen table goes high up on the list of Emma’s worst ideas.

“Everything alright with you, love?” Killian asks. He brushes his hands on his pants and then walks toward her, dipping his head down until he’s eyelevel. It’s unfair how blue his eyes are.

It’s unfair how much she notices stuff like that now.

“Yeah,” Emma lies while her heart races, “everything is just fine.”

-/-

Nothing about any of this is fine.

She shared too much with her mom, and even with it all out in the open, Emma doesn’t think she’ll ever be understood here. They were so blind to so much. One conversation can’t open the floodgates to knowing it all because they’ll never really understand the hell she went through, and now instead of being at peace with it, all Emma wants to do is pick fights with her parents

Like a totally rational adult woman.

So that’s not fine. What’s also not fine is the way Killian is sitting pressed up against her on the loveseat as they open presents. It’s too close, and it’s too much to watch him open presents from her parents that are genuinely thoughtful despite them only knowing each other for three days.

It’s all too much, and she is ready to get home, sleep in her own bed, and go back to the monotony of her life.

Because there she doesn’t have to think about any of this. It’s out of sight and out of mind, just the way she likes it.

They eat breakfast leftovers for lunch and dinner, and slowly but surely, the day fades away, the lights on the tree dimming a bit the closer to midnight it gets. Her parents leave to meet some of their friends for a drink, and she and Killian stay in the house, still lounging on the couch in their pajamas barely saying a word to each other. All day they’ve been having to play up their relationship, more than they have been, and she’s exhausted from it. At one point she wanted to let the truth fly, but she’s not evil enough to hurt her parents more than she already has.

She also doesn’t have the energy to get into another fight.

“You okay, Swan? You’ve seemed a little down today.”

Or maybe she does.

“Fine,” she mutters, pulling her blanket higher up her chest.

“Are you sure?” Killian prods. “Because we haven’t talked about last night, and I heard a bit of your conversation with your mom this morning. It’s perfectly alright not to always get along with family. It’s complicated. I understand that.”

Emma blows air out of her nose and turns away from Killian to watch the TV. “Please. You’ve got peanuts compared to the full-blown circus I have.”

It takes Emma approximately two seconds to realize that she has, to put it gently, fucked up.

Killian rises from his side of the couch and brushes his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands until they fall in his face. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, defeated. “I am never going to dismiss how you struggle with your parents because it obviously affects you, but you do not get to sit there and say shit like that to me when I am only here with you because my family is all dead. I would give anything to have my loved ones here to fight with because at least then there would be the possibility of repair.”

He shakes her head and clicks his tongue before running it over his bottom lip. “Happy Christmas, Swan. I’m going to bed. We still set to leave at nine tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. Killian, I’m - ”

“Don’t bother. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

He walks up the stairs, and Emma falls back onto the couch. The new year is a week away, but she’s already asshole of the year.

Way to go, Emma.

How the hell is she supposed to fix this?

Emma pours herself another glass of wine and falls asleep on the couch after an hour of beating herself up about her general shittiness as a person. She only wakes when her parents come in and there’s a gentle push at her shoulder.

“Emma,” her mom whispers, “Emma, come on. You’ll hurt your neck if you sleep down here.”

Emma opens her eyes and groggily stands as her mom hovers over her. She’s still half-asleep as she hobbles out of the room, her mom following behind her up the stairs, and before Emma closes her bedroom door, she pokes her head out to look at her mom.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah, hon?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Mary Margaret smiles, but it’s a little sad. Emma’s got no clue how to fix what’s between them, and she knows it’s not all on her to fix. At one point they were so close, and for so long this distance has been because Emma has refused to extend the olive branch and refused to be honest.

But also because her mom refused to see a lot of reality.

At least they’re both still here and have the opportunity to heal what’s been broken.

“I love you, too, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers. “It’s been so nice having you home.”

She doesn’t say it, but despite all of the crazy things that have happened in the past few days, it’s nice to be home and to have someone care about her by making sure her neck doesn’t hurt from sleeping on the couch or by fixing her breakfast in the morning.

By pretending to be her boyfriend so she didn’t have to deal with an ex.

Emma nods and steps into her room. She’s as quiet as possible when getting into bed, and she doesn’t even say anything when she notices Killian is more on her side of the bed than his. Instead, she slips into that small space and hopes she can be forgiven too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers before closing her eyes.

-/-

She’s half asleep in the morning when she first feels Killian move. They’ve done a pretty good job in staying in their own space while sleeping, but considering where he was when Emma got into bed last night, Emma wasn’t holding high expectations for this morning.

Not that she really thought about it.

But there’s definitely a hand on her boob and a half-erect dick pressed into the crevice of her ass, and as much as she doesn’t mind the feeling, she’s thankful when Killian moves, leaving her to the chill of an empty bed as he leaves the room to do who knows what outside.

-/-

What he does is shovel snow with her dad, help her mom with some last-minute tips on the renovation of their barn out back, and pack up their bags for the drive home. He’s cordial and affectionate as she says goodbye to her parents, promising to video chat with them more often so they can talk more, which Emma is simultaneously dreading and looking forward to, kind of like this ride home.

-/-

The drive back to Boston happens in almost complete silence, and if Emma didn’t have the radio to keep her company, she’d scream because the silence is so damn loud.

-/-

It’s the new year now.

Has been for about a week or so, and Emma spent the holiday out with Ruby and Dorothy and all of their friends. She wore a sparkly, slightly slutty dress that had her freezing all night long, but everything about it felt wrong.

Everything about everything feels wrong.

Well, that’s not true. For the first time in a long time, when she talks to her parents, it feels like they actually listen instead of projecting their own hopes and dreams to her. They see her as a person with feelings and failure instead of an idealized daughter who fits into their little, perfect box. She has to talk about shit she doesn’t want to talk about more often than not, but Killian’s words keep ringing in her head.

At least she has family around to fight with and to have those hard conversations with.

Killian isn’t around the apartment much. He comes in and out to eat and sleep, but ever since the car ride from hell, he’s been scarce. She’s tried to find time to see him, to apologize for being a dick and for all of Christmas as a whole, but that’s hard to do when she lives with the invisible man.

That’s hard to do when she has trouble admitting she was in the wrong.

It’s even harder when she has trouble admitting to herself that she has feelings for Killian Jones that far surpass just roommate feelings. Emma doesn’t know when the hell that happened or what to do with it, but it makes every night that she can’t talk to him torture.

How is it that she always screws everything up? And how does she go about fixing broken things when she’s still holding the hammer that broke the glass?

Maybe all she needs is an opportunity to talk to Killian where she can’t run away.

Yeah, all she needs is to just see him.

-/-

Why is he at this bar right now?

Okay, the real question is why is she at this bar right now? She had a hellish day at work, and all she wanted was to sleep. That’s all she wants to do lately, mostly because it means she doesn’t have to share the common area with Killian. If she’s sleeping, she doesn’t have to see anything, and everything is much, much better.

Or much, much worse, but Emma is trying not to think about that.

She’s trying not to think about Killian at all, which is decidedly not working out well when she thinks about him at least thirty-seven times a day. Thirty-eight now that he’s standing at the other side of cozying up to the most gorgeous woman Emma has ever seen. She’s tall and tan and has legs that go on for days. She looks like Ruby, and while Emma doesn’t know her, she seriously does not like her.

Because she’s lost her mind and has developed fucking feelings when she hasn’t wanted to do that, especially with someone she can’t get away from.

“Hey.” Ruby nudges her shoulder into Emma’s. “Why do you look like you want to punch someone? Am I that someone? Please don’t mess up my face. My makeup looks fantastic today.”

“Is that the only thing you’re concerned about?”

“Look at me. Doesn’t it look great?”

Emma rolls her eyes and sips on her wine. “You look great. Is that why you dragged me out here?”

“No, it was because you’ve been moping ever since you came home from Storybrooke. I know your relationship with your parents isn’t the best, but it’s not bad enough to have you grouchy for two weeks.”

How much would it be for Emma to drink the entire bottle of wine?

“I mean, it sucked, but I feel much better about my parents than I have in a long time. It’s more...I don’t - it’s - ”

“Killian Jones.”

“How did you know that?” Emma looks at Ruby, but she’s looking over Emma’s shoulder and toward where Killian was standing.

Ruby shakes her head. “Huh, no, I didn’t. That’s Killian standing over there. Wait.” Her red lips part. “What happened with you and Killian? Oh my God, did you fuck Killian when he went home with you?”

“Quiet,” Emma hisses, as if Killian could hear her over the music and the yards of distance between them. “No, I didn’t fuck him. I mean, I almost did, but my mom walked in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ruby gets in Emma’s face, and Emma really wishes Dorothy would show up and distract Ruby. “I need details.”

“That’s all there is to know.” Emma tips her glass to her lips, but there’s nothing left. Dammit. “We’d had a little to drink, and it...happened. Nothing else to tell.”

Ruby arches her brow. “So that’s why you’re not talking to him but staring him down and wishing you could pull that girl’s hair out?”

“I’m not doing either of those things.”

“Emma Swan is a li-aaaaar.” Ruby raises her hands and yells across the bar. “Hey, Jones!”

“Ruby Lucas is de-aaad,” Emma sing-songs back before straightening her back and sitting as tall as she can. To get the best leverage to kill Ruby, of course, not to make her boobs look good in this sweater.

“Hello, Ruby, Swan,” Killian greets. The woman who was hanging onto his arm is gone now, but Emma is sure she’ll see her back at their apartment later. “You both look lovely tonight.”

“Same to you, handsome.” Emma rolls her eyes as Ruby drags her finger down Killian’s button-down. It, of course, despite the cold temperature, is half-buttoned. “So, Emma hasn’t said it, but you two need to talk and get over whatever tiff you’re in. Whatever Emma did, she’s sorry, and she really wants to make out with you again.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Emma mouths to Ruby as she slides her forefinger across her throat. “Seriously.”

“Love you,” Ruby says, blowing Emma a kiss and walking across the bar to where Dorothy just walked in. Now the woman decides to show up. Of course. Why couldn’t she have been here two minutes earlier?

In a perfect world, Killian would laugh Ruby off and walk away, but this is not and has never been a perfect world. Hard conversations aren’t avoidable. Instead, they come at you like a freight train with no breaks. You either crash or jump on. Emma is wondering if she can simply jump off the tracks.

“Swan,” Killian starts, but Emma decides she’s going to jump off the tracks. She doesn’t want to do this. She grabs her coat and heads out the door, pushing past Ruby and Dorothy on her way out. This will cause ripples in her relationship with Killian no matter what. She can’t imagine he’ll want to stay living with the woman who was an ass to him and dismissed his brother’s death because she was so caught up in her own issues.

Seriously. Asshole of the Year. It’s officially official now.

It’s stopped snowing in the hour since she entered the bar, and instead of a fresh white coat, the ground is covered in slush that’s been walked over hundreds of times, footprints burying down to show the sidewalk. It’s wet and disgusting, and Emma tugs on her coat as she flees to keep her from getting hypothermia or some other awful disease.

There’s a tug on her hands, and suddenly she’s being pulled backward. She braces herself for a fight, but when she sees it’s Killian, she braces for another kind of fight.

He arches his brow. “What? You going to make a man drink alone in there?”

“I’m not in the mood for a drink. Or a man. Besides, it seems like you already had company with that freakishly long-legged woman who was desperate to make out with you.”

Emma knows that’s mean. She wishes she had legs like that woman, and she wishes she were the one who could hang out at a bar and flirt with Killian like that.

She really messed up there before things could begin.

“Why, Swan? You jealous?”

Emma scoffs and turns away from him. “Like I’ve said, in your dreams.”

Killian drops her hand and moves into her space. He’s always doing that. Personal boundaries are nothing to him. “Aye, quite often.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you dream of the girl who was rude to you and can’t seem to apologize and makes you chase her out of bars even though you live together and could just talk at home. But I imagine you’ll have what’s-her-name there, so I don’t think that’ll be a great time for me to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Love,” he teases, moving his brows and absolutely smirking, “I’m not angry with you over what happened on Christmas, not anymore, and while I’d like to talk about that later, I’d really rather talk about how jealous you are thinking of the possibility of me kissing Victoria in there.”

What a cocky jerk.

Seriously. Who thinks that highly of themselves just to say something so arrogant?

“You can kiss or not kiss whoever you damn well - ”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Killian surges forward and presses his mouth against hers, not letting her speak or think or breathe as he kisses her.

And kisses her well, she might add.

Okay, well, that was unexpected.

Like, seriously unexpected. She thought he was about to tell her to go screw herself and find a new roommate because honestly, that’s what Emma would do if she had to live with someone who is as messy as she is.

It’s a lot to deal with, and her heart is still racing from their argument and her being on the verge of a meltdown, but much like the slippery, gross snow underneath her feet, she melts into the kiss (okay, so maybe she is one of those girls who melts like Frosty-the-freaking-Snowman), wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands come to rest just above her ass, tugging her further into him. This feels different than that first kiss, softer, slower, and maybe something else she just can’t place.

Right now, she doesn’t care to search for that word when for the first time in a long time, her life feels right.

“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” Emma laughs against his lips.

“Did it work?”

Emma quickly glides her lips over his. “Maybe.”

“Good.” Killian presses his forehead against hers, and not to be Hallmark-level cheesy, but she has that thought again about something just feeling right. Terrifying but right. “And Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s fucking freezing out here. Do you want to go back to our place and have what I can only hope is some amazing make-up sex?”

“Can you have make-up sex if you’ve never slept together before?”

Killian pulls back and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in until he kisses her temple. “We could find out. Or we could go home and see what’s on Netflix, eat some of your leftover Halloween candy.”

“Oh, bud,” Emma laughs, patting his chest and tilting her head to look up at him, “I stress ate that the day we got home from my parents’. But don’t worry, I bought some more last week.”

“I know,” Killian whispers, “I ate some of it when I was still pissed at you.”

Fair. she deserves that. She deserves much more than that, and she expects at some point, she and Killian will have it out like they deserve. She doesn’t get to just skip over the bad and into the field of lush flowers no matter how much it seems like that right now.

But at least there are flowers on the horizon.

“Was it the milk chocolate that made it all better?”

“Aye, it was.”

Emma drops her shoulders, and if she weren’t so sure she was awake, she would swear this was all a dream or part of her imagination from the emotional whiplash she’s experiencing.

“I guess I’ll have to find a new place to hide the candy then.”

“Oh, love, I’ll always find it.”

-/-

(PS: You can have make-up sex even if you’ve never had sex with that person before.)

(Emma and Killian were quick to test that theory out.)

(And eat the chocolate.)

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @lu123sworld​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @marrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @elizabeethan​ @jrob64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @inth-trees​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @captain-emmajones​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @capthamm​ @donteattheappleshook​ @eleveneitherway​

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 7

Chapter 7 too, enjooooy (⚠️ chapter 6 was released at the same time, be careful not to miss it. You can find all the other chapters on the hashtag « i am not your enemy » ⚠️)

(Link for Chapter 8 here)

Chapter 7 : I had just entered his territory

I followed the merry band to the cherry blossom tree, a place where proudly enthroned the two statues representing Leiftan and me, the saviors of the white sacrifice. At one time, I loved this place. It had even been my favorite place in HQ. But today ... every time I walked past these inanimate figures, I felt uneasy. To see us represented in this way put too much pressure on my shoulders. Most importantly, I still had this strange feeling that people kept staring at me.

The others didn't seem to realize it, they were arguing loudly and bickering, but for my part, I couldn't help but pay attention to everything around me. Thus, since the news of my awakening from the Crystal, I had repeatedly caught shifty glances in my direction, often accompanied by whispered conversations a little too loudly. I was totally confused by these behaviors. How to react to the admiration, and at the same time the fear, that we arouse in the hearts of people when they see us ?

At that moment, I had the unpleasant feeling that I understood, if only minutely, what Lance could be feeling. And how loneliness must have weighed on him sometimes too.

I shook my head sharply to try to get those thoughts out of my head. I would no longer fail to come to sympathize with this man's moods. In addition, the atmosphere was at the party tonight, I really had to stop brooding alone in my corner. A good part of the inhabitants of the HQ were present in the garden, it had apparently become common measure here that to celebrate the return of the troops left for the missions of rank A or B, that is to say the longest and most important missions, and everyone seemed to be doing it to their heart's content.

Conversations were mingling all around me and I couldn't focus clearly on any of them, when a brown head appeared in my field of vision. Seeing the mischievous smile that crossed the young wolf's face, I couldn't help but throw myself into his arms.

- Chrome !

The latter hugged me eagerly without losing his smile.

- Andraste, how are you ? I heard you were already doing great things in the infirmary, he chuckled as I pulled away from him.

- What do you want, I still left Eweleïn alone for seven long years, I had to make up for it a bit.

Chrome burst out into a frank laugh close to barking, which made me smile even more.

- When did you come back from your mission ? I questioned him.

- About an hour, which was more than enough for me to hear from you.

- Oh that's just my new celebrity daily, that.

He laughed again before running a hand through his thick hair, his expression suddenly confused.

- And if not, I also heard that you had crossed paths, well you know...

He didn't dare finish his sentence, so I did it for him.

- Lance, yes.

- And that Huang Hua ...

- Made him my new chaperone ? Yes too, I cut him off, slightly irritated at the memory of my meeting with her.

- You know, her decision is not easy, especially for you, but if she decided that it was the best thing to do ...

- Then I'll have to get used to it, I know.

Chrome seemed both surprised and relieved that I was so easily resigned to gently following the Chief of the Guard's orders.

- But you know very well what I think about it, I continued. Okay, I understood that his faults had been atoned for and that he was a great fighter, but I should still have a say in my relationship with him. Except in this case, Huang Hua did not give me a choice and probably to him either. This is what irritates me the most, but I'm far too tired right now to argue with her. So be it.

The wolf was looking at me with big round eyes.

- What did I say that was so shocking ? I asked him, flushing my cheeks.

- You accept her decision without complaining or shouting throughout HQ that Lance is a traitor and that Huang Hua has gone wild ? Maybe you should take another trip to the infirmary, I'm not feeling your best, he said seriously.

I rolled my eyes at his mockery as he laughed again.

- I'm teasing you, don't take it like that !

He patted me vigorously on the back to ease the mood, which probably moved me a side or two in the face of so much delicacy. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to realize that his gesture was a bit too vigorous for my poor human carcass.

- Finally, I hope that Lance and you... he continued.

- Are we going to become the best friends in the world ? Don't expect a mea culpa, I tolerate his presence, at the very least read.

A mocking pout slowly appeared on his face. I raised an eyebrow.

- What ?

- No nothing...

He was trying to keep from smiling, I knew that. I sighed in exasperation before using a tone that meant to be threatening.

- Chrome.

He awkwardly raised his hands in peace.

- Alright, Alright. No, I was just thinking that the two of you are really the same.

I paused for a long time trying to figure out what he was talking about. Sensing my confusion, he continued cautiously.

- You and Lance look a lot alike, he tried to explain to me with a shrug. It's just that it's really blatant, at times.

Sorry ?

Was he really telling me that Lance and I were alike ? How's that, "really blatant" ? He didn't care about me now.

- You know, it's not pejorative at all! I know you and him are complicated, but ...

- Yes we can say that it is rather complicated, indeed.

- But having seen him a lot in recent years, I can guarantee you that it's a compliment !

A compliment ?

- Chrome, you should stop there, I said, putting a hand on my forehead.

- I ... yes, you're right, he finally concluded with an embarrassed laugh.

Suddenly two arms circled Chrome and Karenn placed a kiss on his cheek.

- You are there my loulou ! I was looking for you.

Turning in my direction, she continued :

- Andraste, if I can borrow it from you.

I gave her a polite smile as she already began to pull Chrome by the arm.

- No worries, have fun.

I watched the couple walk away and sighed heavily. I had to admit that I was more than fed up with how everyone valued Lance. But on the other hand, I couldn't deny that I myself had, on rare occasions, appreciated his presence. Well, as much as possible anyway. I found myself thinking about the last time we had exchanged. It was clear that he had gone way too far in our training, but despite that, he still managed to make me feel some semblance of my powers again. And this feat had only happened in his presence.

I think it was time I stopped running away from him.

Abandoning the festivities, in which I had actually not participated so much, I went in search of the dragon. I suspected that Lance should not be very fond of this kind of events and therefore decided to slip away discreetly. The fact of me going away from the evening surprised me the greatest good, I think I could not stand the noise and the crowd very well. Who knows, maybe spending several years meditating in a crystal could create a kind of agoraphobia. Anyway, the more the calm of the night enveloped me, the better I felt.

I finally wandered around the HQ gardens with no real idea of ​​where I needed to go. Where could Lance be now ? And what was I going to say to him, once he was in front of me ?

Despite everything, I decided to head towards the corridor of the guards. Crossing the great hall of doors, I entered the corridor which led to the chambers of the members of the Guard. The night bathed the room in a soft light, but still, I could feel my heart race as I approached the door to his bedroom. What exactly was I going to tell him ? I had no idea.

My hand remained in the air for several long seconds before I mustered the courage to strike, my heart definitely racing. However, no sound from the other side of the clapper reached me in response. Other seconds flowed during which I didn't even dare to breathe.

Maybe he wasn't here, I must have been wrong... I finally lowered my arm, blowing loudly as I passed, and started to turn away when I felt the door open close to me.

- Andraste ?

I turned at the sound of his voice, it also slightly out of breath. It had been several days since I had heard it and surprisingly, it seemed even more serious than usual. Lance then fixed his icy gaze on mine, as if waiting for me to answer him something, but I stood for a moment stuck on the drops of sweat that smeared his chest.

Oh.

- What are you doing here ? he asked me while raising his eyebrows. You need something ?

Take it easy, Andraste. At once.

- I ... no, not really. I just wanted to talk to you, actually, I finally managed to articulate. Well, nothing very special and if I disturb you, we can do that another time.

- Why would you bother me ? he replied without a hint of irony.

His question caught me off guard but he didn't seem to mind. Seeing that I could find nothing to answer, he shifted to the side and invited me in, a glimmer of defiance in the pupils. I hesitated for a moment. Was it really a good idea ?

Slowly, I finally entered the dragon's lair. I felt him close the door behind my back and an icy shiver ran through me as a thought crossed my mind.

I had just entered his territory.

Deliberately.

(Chapter 8)