#delicate? challenging. to figure out how to make it happen believably in fic

[hidey-writes]

six sentence saturday

Zheng Bei doesn’t speak again until they’re headed toward the precinct, and then it’s an abrupt thing, the van heading down the middle of a nondescript street as he says, “Gu-laoshi, have you thought about what you’re doing after the case closes?”  Gu Yiran flashes back to the night market: the crowd, the noise. The burn of grilled squid against his tongue, and the heated brush of Zheng Bei’s hands against his own. When the case closes, are you still going back to Huazhou? and the way Gu Yiran had replied without thinking, Trying to drive me away? That heart-shock moment after, Zheng Bei’s reply still hanging in the air between them: Aren’t I asking you to stay? Quietly, Gu Yiran echoes, “After the case closes?”

a snippet from chapter three while i slooooowly find my way through the revision :3

[localplaguenurse]

What Could Go Wrong?

Mothman Dottore X Fem Reader Smut (Kinktober Week 3)

Give it up for week three! FINALLY I write Dottore smut after two years jfc. Harpyttore was very tempting, but part of the challenge is that I can’t write anything I’ve already read in another fic. So Mothman.

WARNINGS: Moths, inaccurate/inappropriate use of moth facts, scent kink (?), mating/in heat, I think this one is actually pretty chill compared to the last two, more silly I think

Minors DNI

“I know you’re smarter than this,” you hear your lab partner and best friend remark, “you have to know this is stupid, right?”

You finish loading your film into the kamera and delicately put the spare film back in your bag with your notebook, your pencil case, lamp, fire starting kit, jasmine oil, jar of honey, and a vile wrapped up in cloth and secured in a wooden box. There are other supplies in the bag, but these are absolutely essential for your task tonight. The little box is especially important.

“You can’t honestly believe there is a man sized moth living in the forest,” they continue as you take inventory of your gear. 

“I’m skeptical too,” you say, “but can I call myself a lepidopterist if I pass this up? Or even just an entomologist?”

“You even admit it’s bullshit!” “Hey, I said I was skeptical, but not why,” you state. “Do I believe in a man sized moth? No. Do I believe there is a large species of moth living deep in the Dharma Forest that has yet to be properly discovered and identified? That’s more likely.”

“Even then, the driyoshes who came screaming about seeing the moth admitted later that it was probably just a large bird of sorts.”

You close your bag up. “You can just say you’re not coming with me,” you tell them, “you can just say you don’t believe it and don’t want to come, but you don’t have to talk to me like I’m dumb.”

“I just don’t want you getting eaten by tigers while you’re out there.” “I know which paths to avoid, and I’m pretty sure the driyoshes were on one of the safer ones.”

Your friend shakes their head in defeat. “I can’t convince you otherwise, can I?” “Nope.”

They pinch the bridge of their nose. “Just… explain the thought process behind what you’re bringing.”

You smile. “Okay, so the kamera, the notebook and my camping supplies are self explanatory. I’m camping out there for the next few days, and I need actual proof this thing exists.”

“Okay.”

“The lamp is for navigating in the dark, and the fire kit is for camping out in the forest,” you continue, “but they also double as sources of light and heat, which can attract moths.”

They nod along.

“Jasmines are a commonly liked flower among moths,” you say, “so I figured the smell of jasmine oil would attract them. Honey is a food source.”

“And your source for that?”

“Adult moths primarily consume nectar or sugary substances if they have mouths,” you state, “especially the death’s-head hawkmoth. They actually create a squeaking noise similar to queen bees that allow them to sneak into hives and eat their honey. Not that I think this is a death’s-head, but it can’t hurt.”

“And that little box you snagged from the Amurta labs?”

“You make it sound like I stole it,” you say. “I have permission to use it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“...” You sigh. “As a last resort… I’m packing a vial of distilled moth pheromones.”

At this, your partner’s eyes widen and they bury their face in their hands, embarrassed for you. “Like mating pheromones?”

“Yes, like mating pheromones.”

“Okay, cool, interesting,” they say, “very important question though; what the fuck are you going to do if a horny, man sized moth swarms you thinking you’re a potential mate?”

“That… is a bridge I will cross when I get there.”

“Are you going to–”

“I’m not going to have sex with the giant moth,” you quickly interrupt, “I don’t even know how that could happen.”

“It’s a man sized moth, anything is possible.”

“I’m not that dedicated to my research,” you state, face burning. 

“Whatever, just… be safe, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll only be three days,” you tell them, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You heave as you lift your bag up, and offer your partner a smile.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

—

You’re thankful the moths seem more interested in your light and the honey you set out, but the stray little males still flutter up to you as you eat. You gently swat the fortieth one away, and two more come looking for the fertile female they’re smelling. You swat them away as well, ad infinitum.

At some point in your trip to your designated camping spot, the vial of moth pheromones had broken and leaked out of the box you kept it in, seeping into your clothes. The vial wasn’t that large, but by the great wisdom given to the researchers who made it, was it ever potent. It’s so potent, in fact, that there are several different breeds of moth trying to mate with the clothes you hung up to dry. You were hoping and praying the rain that suddenly came down last night would have helped wash away some of the smell, but no matter how much water you wrung from them, the pheromones are still noticeable to every moth in the vicinity. 

Your pajamas weren’t too affected and dried quickly, but clearly they still smell if the moths are still trying to get your attention. You’d wear the clothes from yesterday, but they’re just dirty in general and not ideal for sleep. It’s not like you’re getting much sleep, though. The flapping of hundreds of moths is getting annoying. On the bright side, at least you have something interesting to tell your partner when you get back to the Akademiya.

You finish up your little meal and begin tidying up. You pack away your dirty dishes while moths continue to harass you. Yeah, this was probably a really dumb idea, trying to hunt down a big ass moth. You’ll pack up and head back home tomorrow morning, still being swarmed by moths.

You manage to shoo the moths out of your tent before you secure the flap. You sigh and crawl into your sleeping bag. You shut your eyes, listening to the fluttering wings and little chirps.

Wait, chirps? Moths don’t squeak unless they’re trying to throw off predators like bats, or they’re trying to steal honey from bees undetected. As you sit up, you can hear the squeaking is getting louder, and the flapping of little wings is growing faster, more frantic.

You hesitantly peak out of your tent to see swarms squealing and screeching as they begin to escape into the night sky. Astonished, you step outside and look up. There are so many they nearly blot out the light of the moon, still squeaking in absolute terror. Your blood runs cold. It makes sense that once one moth lets out the alarm of a predator, others would follow, but with this many moths still drowning in the pheromones staining your clothes? This many moths in general?

You get your answer when a massive, solid shape blocks out the moon, and like a divine plague, the moths go into a desperate and swarming frenzy, pelting into your body and your face as they frantically make their escape. You drop to the ground and cover your eyes and mouth as the storm rages. You can only imagine how this looks from the outside. You wonder how far the eclipse of frightened bugs can be seen.

You lift your head up when the flaps quiet down, and the squeaks grow distant, and you’re no longer being violently bumped into. You look up to see clouds of moths literally eclipsing the moon and disappearing among the stars in the sky. You stand, looking around your campsite, at the surrounding treeline. Something is horribly wrong, what was that big thing in the sky? You only saw it briefly, but it was much larger than any man. There’s no way, it can’t be–

You snap around when you hear rustling in the shrubbery behind you. You swear you see something move in the shadows but it disappears too quickly to get a grasp on it. You try to recall the story of the monster the driyoshes told. It was a large, shadowy winged beast, and the only other thing they saw before they bolted were a pair of big, red eyes.

You dive for your pack, pulling everything out until your fingers make contact with the kamera. You yank it out and stand, eyes darting around at every little noise and movement. Then it’s quiet, and it stays quiet. You look up at the sky, and you can’t see the moths anymore.

A twig snaps behind you. You whip around and hit the button on the kamera. The flash blinds the red eyed creature, and it snarls and covers its face with a black arm. You scream and stumble back, falling on your ass and attempting to scramble away. 

It’s not a man sized moth, it’s a moth man.

He stands tall, black wings with pale blue patterns along the edge flying open in defence. Black fluff covers his shoulders and chest, and though his arms and legs, clawed and covered in fine little hairs, are black, his torso is primarily pale flesh coloured, as is his face. His scowling face is surprising human, save for the pointed teeth and large, glowing red eyes. His hair is pale blue, like the patterns on his wings, and the feathery antennae sprouting from the top are black.

You get a much better look at his features when he descends upon you, pinning you beneath his barely humanoid form, claws grasping at your wrists and holding them down to the ground. You feel shivers run up your spine as he stares at you, antennae twitching. He tilts his head, and leans in closer to your face. You close your eyes tight and turn your face away, scared he’s going to bite your face off.

You’re surprised when instead, he curls his body so he can rest his head on your chest, His antennae brush against your neck, and begin shivering. You squirm at the ticklish feeling. Then his wings begin to shake, and he lets out a deep groan as the rest of his body shudders. He lifts his head, lips pulled into a large grin that borders on predatory as he just stares.

“Oh… how lovely,” he purrs, “I can’t recall the last time I had the chance to mate.”

Your eyes widen, skipping over the fact this man-thing speaks common and jumping right to the meaning behind his words. “What?!”

He chuckles. “Your scent,” he clarifies, “it’s strong enough that it has brought almost every mature male moth to your location, myself included. But I know that’s not your natural scent, is it?”

You nervously shake your head.

“Of course not, you’re human,” he says. “And you’re one of those Akademiya students. That’s how you acquired those pheromones, no?”

“Y… Yes.”

“And you know what they do, don’t you?”

“I-I’m a lepidopterist,” you tell him, “I p-primarily study moths. I know what the pheromones do.”

Blood rushes to your face when the monster nuzzles his cheek against yours. His breath fans over your ear, and you question the flutter in your stomach when you hear the rasp in his voice.

“Then I have to wonder what your intentions were…”

You recall your roommate asking what you’re going to do if you encounter a giant horny moth, and you stating you would not fuck the giant moth. Well… he’s not really a full moth, is he? He’s pretty humanoid, oddly handsome at that, too, and is a self aware being. He’s into you, so… fuck it, why not. It’s not like you promised you wouldn’t have sex with a moth person, just no giant moths.

“I-It was intended as a last resort to see if you were real,” you say, “but accidents happen. Might as well m-make the most of it, haha…”

The moth just laughs. He lets go of one of your wrists and grabs the front of your shirt. With one pull, he rips it open. You squeak in surprise as the cool night air hits your skin. Rough, almost scaled hands grasp your breasts, and he trills at the squish of your flesh. You whine when he presses his body against you, slotting between your legs with willing ease.

“So soft,” he purrs, “so warm. Though I prefer my solitude away from humans, I must admit your body heat is divine.”

You don’t say anything, simply letting out breathy moans as he kneads your breasts, clawed fingers occasionally pinching your stiffened nipples. He doesn’t seem to mind, rather he relishes your little noises and fidgets. He lets out a little laugh when you try to lean into his touch some more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and Archons, his fur is softer than you expected. He seems perplexed by the gesture, and a surprised little noise gets caught in his throat when you pull him into a kiss. You wonder how often he’s done something like this with another human or perhaps moth person when he slithers his tongue into your mouth. His tongue tastes sweet, sort of like honey with floral hints, perhaps he feeds on nectar and honey?

You stop wondering why he tastes sweet when you feel him rock his hips against you, feeling something grind into your clothed sex. He grunts into your mouth as he humps against you, and before you can process that, you jolt when you feel it shake. You pull back and try sitting up to look. You blink, face somehow getting warmer at the fascinating and arousing sight.

It’s a decent size, bigger than what you’re used to but not completely out of the realm of possibility. It’s dark, the ridges fading from black to red at the tip. It’s coated in a layer of slick, which you think you can attribute to the dripping slit it’s protruding from. When he chuckles, his twitching cock vibrates, but only in a short burst.

“W-Wait, you can–”

“I’m sure you know that trait is meant to ward off predators in most moths,” he states, “but since I have no natural predators, and am not a measly little moth… well, past humans I’ve mated with have found the trait useful.”

It’s true. Some moths, primarily male hawkmoths, rub the scales near their genitals to make a chirping noise that confuses bats. With that in mind, it sort of makes sense that this moth man has a similar ability that is simultaneously very different. You think a less horny and somehow less rational version of you would immediately sit up and ask a hundred questions, but all you can ask is how is that going to feel when it’s inside?

The moth’s antennae twitches, and he chuckles. “Oh? Eager, are we?”

“What?”

“Your pheromones are becoming stronger moment by moment,” he states, trailing a hand down to grasp his cock, “especially after observing this.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Such a lovely scent, I think I prefer it over the moth pheromones.”

Why you find that so flattering, you don’t know, but you do know from the pulse in your core that you want that thing in you as fast as you can get it in. You lift your hips up so you can slide your pajama bottoms and your underwear off. You barely get them off before the creature grabs your thighs and forces them apart, exposing your dripping heat. He wastes no time, urging you to wrap your arms and legs around him as his tip nudges against you. You let out a little whimper as he slowly grinds against you, then stills his hips. You gasp at the burst of vibration against your clit, and he chuckles.

“Oh, you’re going to be a fun little thing.”

Without any real warning, he presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly. You jolt when he finally slips inside, moaning softly as he sinks deeper into your warmth. The ridges rubbing all along your walls are a feeling quite unlike anything else. Very different, and not at all bad. He groans so sweetly in your ear as he works his way down to the base. You whine at how full you feel, barely fitting him. The pressure of it all without adequate preparation makes you ache, but no sharp pains or anything of concern. You attribute that to both your bodies’ natural lubrication. Still, even with the ache, or perhaps because of it, you feel a deep arousal, a deep want for more, more, more.

He doesn’t wait for you to give the okay before he begins thrusting. You yelp as he sets a surprisingly quick pace. Your hands claw at his back in an attempt to orient yourself. He’s not even being that rough, just quick, but with his size still stretching you and the ridges grinding against your sweet spot when he draws back and slips back in, trying to focus on one thing or another is already a little overstimulating.

He buries himself to the hilt, and you’re embarrassed at the loud, high pitched sound that rips out of your throat when you feel him shudder inside you. He laughs, and his tone seems almost mocking as he draws back, slams back inside, and does it again to hear you squeal and feel you shudder. He leans down, pressing his fluffy chest against your soft chest, so he can really see every little reaction to his little trick.

“S-Stop teasing!” you cry out when he does it a third time.

“This is the most effective way for me to– ngh… do this,” he tells you through a clenched grin. “I can only do it in quick bursts, not continuously.” To emphasize his point, he does it a fourth and fifth time, relishing in the feeling of your walls clamping down around him. “Do you want me to stop?”

He does it a sixth time, and you try to shoot him a glare, but with how smug he looks about it and how you imagine you look right now, it has no effect on him. You just pull him in closer, nuzzling your face into his neck fluff to hide your face. He does it one last time before he returns to his regular thrusting, making you moan in pleasure and relief.

Your fingers brush against his wings, and he stills for a moment, his breath hitching. It gives you an idea. When he starts up his tempo again, you rub along the scales where his wings connect to his back. He shudders against you, and his voice pitches slightly higher. He immediately stops moving, looking down at you with his shining red eyes. You offer a smug smile, but your lack of confidence is very evident. He chuckles.

His hand moves up your thigh and his thumb finds your clit. Your hips buck when he begins to rub it in quick circles, and that’s when he slams down to the hilt and you feel his cock’s vibrations again. This time, he stays buried inside you, his cock vibrating in shorter, but more frequent bursts. You cry out, the heat in your core quickly growing too much for you to handle.

“Wait, w-wait, stop!”

“Why should I?”

You sob as he presses as flush against you as he can, somehow reaching even deeper, rubbing and buzzing against your sweet spot even more. You try to move away, but his other hand holds you in place. “T-Too much,” you tell him, voice cracking as he continues to quiver inside you. “I-I’m gonna cum if you keep– hah!”

“No one’s stopping you,” he teases, “so feel free to let yourself go.”

You try to hold yourself together, but that’s when he starts rocking into you while he’s already so deep inside you, when he keeps convulsing inside you and starts rubbing your clit faster. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you shudder and claw at his back desperately, unable to hold your moans. 

Your back arches obscenely and your hips buck when the moth man pushes you past your limit into climax. You imagine your debauched cries can be heard throughout the forest, but the white hot pleasure shooting through your nerves makes you unable to care.

You’re not even through the first waves of your orgasm when he starts thrusting into you again, making you actually start crying out as overstimulated tears slip out of your eyes. He’s at least let up on the vibrations and rubbing, but his cock is too much when you’re still reeling from the overwhelming pleasure.

“My turn,” he grunts out before you can ask what the hell he’s doing. You wouldn’t have been able to ask anyways, as each thrust knocks the wind out of you, building up your next orgasm quicker and quicker while you’re still riding out your first. You want him to stop, to slow down, to keep fucking going because you’re never going to feel this good ever again with a human cock and you need to sear this into your memory.

He lurches forward, and his sharp teeth clamp down onto your shoulder. You scream, and he slams hard into you as your eyes roll back with your second climax. You whine, the sound almost pathetic, as you feel warmth flood your core. He holds you still so he doesn’t slip out, but there’s still so much that his seed leaks out anyways.

In the stillness, you can finally get some air in your lungs as you pant. You feel the moth man pull his teeth from your shoulder, his tongue lapping at the blood. You feel your body going limp, only to tense up again and sob when you feel another burst of movement inside you.

“I hope you didn’t think that’s all it would take,” he goads, lifting his head to meet your gaze. Red stains the corners of his lips. “I don’t often get the opportunity to mate, so I intend on properly breeding you while I still have you here.”

You swallow nervously, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You don’t hate the idea, Archons no, but at this rate, you’re going to be fucked too stupid to think of an excuse for what happened here when you return to the Akademiya. Would they even believe you if you said you had sex with the giant moth in the forest.

Another shudder snaps you out of the last rational thought you’re going to have before you return, and you simply brace yourself for more.

[stxvercgersslut]

One of the good ones

Description: you always had a bad experience with Christmas in the past due to your bad home life. But your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, and his 4 year old daughter, Lilah, are determined to give you the best Christmas ever.

Warnings: extreme fluff like there is way too much fluff in this one fic and it wasn’t even supposed to this long! mentions of bad family experiences.

Prompts: Gif is a prompt too,

“you’re skipping Christmas? Isn’t that against the Law?” (Christmas with the Kranks)

A/n: yeah I’m late to the party but @chrissquares is just too damn amazing for me not to at least write one fic for this challenge!

————————————————————

“No you have to be kidding!” Your boyfriend of almost 1 year spoke, totally and utterly shocked from your declaration just a few seconds ago. Mouth wide in shock horror causing the little 4 year old Sarah, named after Steve’s loving mother who had tragically passed away during the 40′s, to giggle slightly at how hysterically ridiculous her daddy looked right now.

You, on the other hand, weren’t as amused at the toddler. In fact, you were bored of the conversation already and the love of your life had only brought it up a couple seconds ago to make conversation. But then again you could just have been in a god awful bad mood like you always were this close to Christmas. “You heard me Steve...I’m not repeating it again. Please just drop it?” you pretty much begged at this point which seemed to cause Sarah to giggle a tad bit more since she seemed to find this entire scene quite amusing. Especially with how ridiculous the whole situation was.

But Steve didn’t want to end the conversation just yet. No he was determined to get to the bottom of this. “Nu uh baby girl. You don’t just get to blurt out that you’re skipping Christmas altogether and not explain why” he declared, a much sterner look on his face.

However, those words seemed to pluck Sarah’s attention away from her pretend tea party on the floor and landing her straight into the current conversation. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Especially after what she had just heard.

“What!” The four year old announced in the cutest little voice that Steve had ever heard in his life, causing the super soldier to crack a smile. Meanwhile your expression still stayed static. “you’re skipping Christmas? Isn’t that against the Law?” The toddler added to her previous shock.

You really weren’t expecting that. Especially not from a toddler as young as Sarah was. Yet you still managed to prepare yourself to answer her question. “It’s not against the law. It’s perfectly acceptable to just ignore Christmas all together” oh you should have known Sarah wouldn’t have accepted that answer.

“Why would you want to skip Christmas...” now she looked offended. No, offended wasn’t the word, she was totally and utterly shocked that someone would actually hate a holiday that she assumed everyone loved due to the magical experience. All kids loved Christmas so why didn’t you? That wasn’t something you truly didn’t want to disclose.

“Because” you answered, not having the energy to come up with anything too interesting that would actually put the situation to bed without any more questions. But if you’d believed that Sarah would just leave it at that then you were painfully mistaken.

“Because what?” She answered with her beautiful blue eyes sparkling in the sun light shining from the window with how wide her little eyes were. You really had started a war now.

However, finally your boyfriend decided to actually interject, seeing the way you cringed in thought “Sarah come on she doesn’t wanna answer baby” the super soldier explained, walking closer to you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist to let you know that he was there. Just because he was trying to help ease the situation with his daughter didn’t mean he’d let this go. Oh no.

"Because isn't an answer!" And there it was, the delicate child had began to press you for answers that you truly didn’t want to expose.

Quickly you sat down on the floor with your step daughter, taking her little hand in yours before digging around in your brain for a answer that you could give to her. “Sarah.....it’s hard to explain baby...I don’t really think that this is a discussion that you really need to be a part of okay?....” you eased, placing a hand on her shoulder as a peace offering to which she seemed to take and just wander even closer to you, pretty much tugging you into a mighty tight hug. For a 4 year old she was extremely strong. Mostly due to the super soldier serum already running through her veins.

After the hug Sarah pulled away,  showing her shiny white baby teeth to you before giggling away to herself when she turned around to play with her toys again. Finally you had managed to stop the toddler from pressing for answers.

Steve, on the other hand, was not going to allow this to happen. You were the love of his life, the one that swooped into his life during a time where he had believed true love would never find him. You'd change his life for good and most importantly you were the very first women that he'd allowed into his daughters life. No way was he going to let you skip the lost wonderful time of the year. "And what do you plan on doing on Christmas Day if you're skipping Christmas then huh?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows which successfully made you laugh due to his stubbornness.

"Well...." you began, scratching your head in thought as you struggled for an answer. It was the easiest of things to answer since you barely did anything. "I'll probably watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S for the hundredth time and finish off a bottle of wine." You admitted, guessing truth would probably be the your one true option.

But the look on Steve's face told you otherwise. Maybe you should have just lied instead of telling the truth. Then at least you would have spared yourself the humiliation of telling the one man you loved more then anything about your plans for Christmas.

Steve laughed, he fucking laughed at you. Not in a rude way (you hoped) but in a way that showed just how shocked and confused he was at you antics. How could someone like you not want to celebrate Christmas? That had to be against the law right? Just like Sarah had said, no one should skip Christmas. “Baby! You really think I’m gonna let you just be alone for Christmas?” he spoke, voice stern as if he was speaking to one of his team mates and not you his literal girlfriend. Clearly Steve wasn’t ever going to let you just be miserable, especially when it was Christmas that was hanging in the balance. No he’d be damned if he was going to let any of what you had planned out for your Christmas alone. 

“Well I kinda wasn’t going to ask for permission.” You interjected, knowing that this was an argument waiting to happen but you didn’t really care at this point. All you really wanted was for this conversation to be over and for Steve to completely forget about everything that you had said. not that that was ever actually going to happen now. Of course that wasn’t going to happen.

Steve was silent for a few seconds as he crossed his arms in a slight huff, of course catching the eye of the small toddler who instantly repeated the same gesture in which her father had just done. that in itself was the most adorable thing in the world.

“Well you don’t need to ask permission I guess...but its still not right! I’m not letting it happen.” He spoke, once again using his stern Captain America voice. Which seemed to provoke a little giggle from Sarah before she once again repeated Steve’s exact words in her beautiful little childish voice. Although you really wanted to reply to his comment, right now you couldn’t. It was Sarah’s moment to interject so right now you allowed this to happen. Now that in itself had enough power to cause Steve to finally break his stern facade, letting out a joyful chuckle before turning to his little girl deciding to test how far Sarah’s little game would go. 

After a couple seconds Steve placed his hands on his hips he grinned childishly. Sarah once again repeated the action in her little childish ways. So in retaliation Steve placed his middle finger against his nose, Sarah repeated once again. Oh this game really was causing you to burst out into a fit of giggles. It was almost as if she had sensed the tension in the air and just wanted to put an end to it. Which the little girl had done effortlessly. Things like this really did seem to make you realise how lucky you were to be a part of Steve’s life. You just really hoped to god that Steve would never get bored of you. 

You had no idea how on earth any of this had happened, but after a few more minuets Steve had began to dance around with Sarah. Wiggling his body around like one of those inflatable balloons that danced around when the wind blew them just right. At that point you just couldn’t hold back the laughter that was erupting inside of you, causing your stomach to ache with how much you were laughing. Now you really had forgotten about the conversation that had once been important to Steve. Little did you know that Steve hadn’t forgotten, in fact it was still quite important to him.

______________________________________________________________

It had been a good couple of house later that Steve had finally managed to once again pluck up the courage to finally speak to you. He needed to make this Christmas one that you would never forget. If he didn’t then he would have failed, something he desperately didn’t want to happen. Especially when you were apart of his life. Clearly he loved you too much to let you deal with another Christmas alone, even if that was actually what you wanted to do. He’d be damned if he was going to let that happen.

After putting Sarah in her bed to nap, Steve slowly walked over to where you were sitting in Steve’s bedroom, a room he so longed to share with you. Maybe one day he would. Taking his time as he attempted to figure out exactly what he was going to say. Although he did have a small inkling as to what he wanted.

“Y/n.....baby.....I know it was hours ago since we spoke about your Christmas plans...but I think we need to continue that conversation.” He began, voice low as he attempted to kee the conversation quiet as to not wake Sarah.

This took you by surprise, your head shooting up from your phone screen to look him directly in the eyes. This time his eyes were less stern. No instead his beautiful blue eyes were softly looking at you as if you were the most angelic creature that he had ever encountered in his 100 years of living. And in his eyes you truly were.

“Steve....just drop it please....I just want to forget about Christmas this year like every year” you replied hoping he’d understand. Yet he didn’t.

“No baby....I’m not going to drop this!” His voice raising ever so slightly as he began to voice his opinion.

“Why? Why won’t you drop this? It’s one subject I don’t want to talk about!” You yelled back, although your voice still wasn’t too loud since you had to make sure you wouldn’t disturbe the sleeping toddler in the other room.

Your raised voice had seemed to throw Steve ever so slightly, confusing him. “Because this is important to me y/n! You’re important to me! And I’m not going to let you be sad and alone on Christmas Day! It’s just not happening” now he wasn’t asking. He was being assertive. Which wasn’t exactly the greatest thing in the world but what could you do about it? Clearly Steve wasn’t going to let go so you couldn’t either.

“I’m alone every other Christmas so why does this year have to be any different?” You challenged knowing Steve wouldn’t like that one bit. But the again you were most certainly past caring at this point.

Once again Steve was taken aback by your words. “You didn’t have me and Sarah back then! Now it’s different you don’t have to be alone on Christmas or any other day because you’ve got me! And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you be alone when you have two people in your life that love you more then anything in the whole world!”

He hadn’t heard it at first, hadn’t heard those words escape his lips until he saw your face drop. That stern look leaving your features and instead gracing your face with a much brighter smile that he had so desperately missed. That was when he’d realised that the words he’d tried so desperately to keep in until the time was right had now escaped his lips. To say he was terrified was an understatement. What scared you more was how worried he looked now.

“Y......you love me....” you asked with wide eyes, a smile gracing your features. The sound of those words really did seem to shock you. “Y.....You love me?” You repeated trying to get his attention.

Finally you had, that worried expression on his face still continuing to get wider as he tried to figure out if you would run or stay. Clearly terrified that he’d lose you because of what he had just said.

“Of course I love you y/n, I love you so much more then you will ever know. I know I should have never kept this from you for so long. I should have told you How I felt the second that I started to feel that way....” he explained hoping you’d understand as much as physically possible. That’s all he wanted.

“Why didn’t you?” You inquired.

“Because I was terrified of what you’d say...” he admitted, showing you the side of him he was too afraid to show.

“You shouldn’t have had to be scared. I love you too Steve....I love you so so much”

This Christmas was going to be the best Christmas you had ever experienced.

Tag list: @chuckbass-love @harrysthiccthighss @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @cevans-fics @amythedvdhoarder @drabblewithfrannybarnes @pumpkin-and-pine @starlightcrystalline

[just-another-obsessed-fangirl]

slow motion, double vision in rose blush (Renora College AU)

Summary: Ren doesn't need alcohol to know how gorgeous his best friend is or to admit to himself (kind of, sort of) that his feelings towards her aren't exactly platonic. Apparently, he just needs it if he wants to be unable to ignore those facts.

Warnings: Drinking alcohol, some suggestive thoughts

Fic under the read more or can be read on AO3 here

I wrote this for Flower Power Week, but I didn’t see that there was a rule to keep works PG-13 until I was almost finished with this fic, and I figure this fic is already inherently a bit more mature than that, so I don’t think I should use the tag or tag the blog.

Hope you enjoy!

Parties wouldn't really be considered Ren's "thing".

 He much prefers the slightly-hectic-but-relatively-calm get-togethers of his friends that they manage to schedule every week or so amongst all their university classes. But it was the end of some particularly grueling midterms and everyone in their little friend group (and apparently, everyone on campus) had wanted to let loose and let wild after being cooped up with only their textbooks and their stress for so long. So that, and not enough displeasure at the plan to do anything about it, is how Ren ended up in the corner of the front room of some frat house with a red Solo cup in his hand.

 He doesn't know where most of his friends have gone. Ren hasn't seen all of them in one place since basically when they first arrived and Yang had shoved shots of - Ren hasn't drunk enough alcohol in his life to know for sure, but he would assume it's whiskey - into each of their hands. He didn't have much desire to down it in one go like most of the group, would rather let its burn come in little bursts than have all of the pain all at once. By the time he had finished it, Yang had taken Blake somewhere promising to dance, Ruby heard a rumor of a ping pong table and had set off to find it with Weiss so they can challenge each other, and Jaune and Pyrrha went… somewhere. The only friend who hadn't wandered off was Nora, who immediately upon finishing her shot had started pouring ice, orange juice, and maybe a tad too much vodka into a Solo cup.

 She had immediately come back to his side, expressing how much this was needed for her after midterms. Nora then starts rambling about what lengths she had gone to in order to make the information stick and the stomach aches she got from the stress and how she was shaking during her last test partly from how little sleep she had gotten in the past month from projects. At least, that's what Ren was pretty sure she was talking about. The music was so loud that he had to lean in pretty close to hear what Nora was saying, and even then he couldn't pick up half the words said. Which was a shame, because as much as people seem to believe he just ignores her, Ren does listen to everything his best friend wants to say, and he likes listening to everything she says.

 Nora must've noticed how close Ren was leaning in, or his discomfort at the loud music, as she then grabs his hand and walks them somewhere else, still talking all the while. The farther they walk, the quieter the music gets, the more Ren can hear Nora. They arrive at some far-off corner and Ren is more than content to stay there and listen to Nora for the rest of the night. But then a girl dressed more like she was going to a full-out rave rather than a college party rushes up to Nora and begs her to be her partner at beer pong.

 "Kobalt and Ivori are ‘too cool’ for it, and Flynt's our DD, so obviously he can't drink, and you're fun enough and I bet you'd be super good at beer pong-"

 Ren can tell Nora wants to say yes, but she keeps looking at him from the corner of her eye like she doesn't want to leave him alone. If he really had heard her correctly, then she is certainly deserving of some fun right now, and it might be a little awkward standing here alone but it wouldn't be the worst thing.

 "You should go," he says.

 Nora turns her head fully to him. "Are you sure? You gonna be okay here all by your lonesome?"

 Ren gives her a little smile. "I think I can manage."

 "Great!" the girl says with a clap of her hands. "So it's settled". She grabs the cup that Nora was holding and hands it off to Ren. "Now be a good boyfriend and keep this safe for her."

 Nora's face flushes, and Ren can feel that he does too. "Oh no, Neon, we're not-" but before she can continue her denial, Neon yanks her away to the beer pong table.

 They're a little ways away, but they are perfectly within Ren's eyesight. He can see that they're playing against Sun and Neptune. He doesn't know them too well but he hasn't known them as anything other than friendly. Well, Jaune might disagree at least where Neptune's concerned, but it's been ages and he's since got over his crush on Weiss, so he's probably okay with him now. They start their game and on her first try, Nora lands the ball cleanly into one of the other team's cups. She jumps and pumps her fist in the air, showing off that usual bright beautiful smile in her joy that always seems to lighten up every room and flood Ren's insides with warmth.

 He looks away a little, not wanting to acknowledge what that feeling really meant, even if he had finally admitted to himself that what he had felt for his best friend wasn’t exactly platonic. The admission itself is a barely-there kind of thing because no matter how much Ren would prefer it, he couldn't be in complete denial over it for the rest of time so he'll just settle for being as close to that as possible. Nora's his best friend, what they've had since they were kids - it's good. For the most part, he's completely fine with the way things are and Nora seems to also so why potentially ruin or try to change something that's practically perfect already? Before he could uncomfortably spiral into that thought process anymore, mercifully, he is interrupted. But not so mercifully, that interruption is from Nora, laughing so loud and wonderfully that Ren just plummets even deeper.

 Something funny must have happened. Or maybe not. It doesn't seem to take much to send Nora into a fit of laughter. He likes that about her, that she can let joy or other emotions in so easily and that she doesn't really care about how it may look or what others might think. He's glad there isn't some insecurity that keeps Nora from laughing so often. She has such a nice laugh and Ren likes knowing she's happy and it's nice that she does it so much. And her lips are so pretty, especially when she smiles. He can't help but keep his focus on them. That is until she throws her head back, showing off the nice smooth skin of her neck. Ren then starts to wonder what it would be like to press his lips to the side of it and just how she'd react before he realizes the nature of just what exactly he's thinking.

 His mouth goes dry. Without thinking, he raises Nora's cup to his lips to make it go away but it isn't until he's already swallowed and surprised himself with the hefty burn it leaves in his throat that he remembers what was in that cup. Yeah, he definitely took a much bigger sip than he should've, and there is definitely too much vodka in that. But the orange juice masks the taste of it for the most part and the ice soothes away a good amount of the burn, so it's definitely not the worst alcoholic drink Ren's ever had and might actually be one of the more pleasant ones. He takes a smaller sip of it out of a measured curiosity.

 Ren's eyes drift back to Nora. If he had any sense left in him, he'd focus on anything else, keep trying to avoid feelings he doesn't want to feel and thoughts that might be inappropriate, or definitely inappropriate. But it's as if Ren's field of vision can only narrow down to just her. There are clouds of pink on the edges of what he can see, threatening to fill up the entire room, and it seems as if the only way it won't happen is if he keeps Nora right in the center, where all her movements seem to be in slow motion.

 She picked a green top tonight, a color more associated with Ren more than Nora. She bears a little more skin in this top too, the two spaghetti straps unable to hide the nice, toned muscles of Nora's arms and shoulders along with her delicate collarbone. Ren had already noticed this top when everyone was on the way to the party, trying to figure out if it was new as he's pretty sure he had never seen it before. He must've been more obvious than he should've, because Pyrrha had nudged his shoulder then, giving him a coy little smile. "Green's a good color on Nora, isn't it?" Pyrrha had said, as if he hadn't already known that. Nora doesn't have a lot of green in her own wardrobe, but Ren does, and the times when she has worn the color were usually because she was wearing his clothes. She's done it often enough - stolen his sweater to fight the cold in the café while they were studying, hung his jacket from her shoulders walking around town, switched into one of his tees and sweats when she needed to crash at his dorm for one reason or another. It always feels nice seeing Nora in green, especially when it's his green. Ren would let Nora borrow his clothes any time just to see it more often.

 Nora's skirt is still her signature pink, but without the usual volume or swish ability that she loves so much. No, this skirt is… tighter. It clings to the shape of her quite well, accentuating her curves very nicely. She's doing a little dance right now, and it looks like she's singing too. Nora's a really good singer when she wants to be but he can't imagine she's deciding to be that right now. She bumps her hip against Neon's and spins around, does some shimmying movement. Ren's mouth goes dry again. He's starting to feel really warm. He should look away. Nora's his best friend. He shouldn't be getting mesmerized by the movement of her hips or tracing his eyes over the muscles of her arms, or even noticing how her outfit and especially that skirt, while she’s dancing, makes certain areas of Nora more prominent and - okay Ren's taking another drink. He's taking another drink because he needs another drink, because he needs to stop ogling Nora and thinking these kinds of thoughts about her.

 The burn hurts. It's a deserved punishment.

 He's a little woozy right now but he still feels guilty. Nora is beautiful. She's always been beautiful. Ren has known that even before realizing he liked her in that way. But that doesn't give him or anybody else the right to objectify her like that. It's obviously not like her being gorgeous is the only thing to Nora, and neither that nor the idea of them being physical together are why Ren fell in love with her in the first place.

 Love.

 Well, that is… definitely true. It's definitely true but Ren doesn't think he's ever admitted that much to himself before. In fact, he knows he hasn't because emotions are uncomfortable and scary and often irrational and he doesn't like dealing with them especially when it could ruin probably the most important relationship he has. Why did he have to realize this now? Why did he have to realize this at all? This is uncomfortable. He might be panicking. He feels off balance. Ren takes another drink just so that he can distract himself from all of this but it doesn't quite work by the time he's finished off the rest of it.

 There's nothing of this too-much-vodka concoction left and it is immediately apparent to Ren that that was not his brightest idea. He doesn't really drink too much, even at social gatherings. Their friends usually appoint him the designated driver, and he doesn't mind. If he does drink, he'll usually stop by the time he feels a hint of a buzz. This was… more than a hint. He's more off-balance than before, the room sways a little more and he thinks it's grown even pinker. His head feels cloudy. And this is the longest a burn has stayed in his throat. And he is so warm. Ren leans his back against the wall for some stability.

 His eyes come back to Nora because if Ren couldn't stop it before, he can't stop it now. She's still there, being beautiful and charming and full of life, laughing with the people around her, and of course Ren is in love with her, how could he ever try to deny that fact. Neptune comes up to her, leans in kind of close to say something. Ren doesn't like that, or the way he's looking at Nora. Maybe Jaune was right about him. Maybe the problem with Neptune is that he's too friendly. Neptune points his thumb somewhere and - wait, is he pointing at him? He must have because Nora immediately turns her head and catches Ren's eye. There's some expression on her face and she immediately sets off in his direction.

 There's something in Ren that tells him to act casual and he raises the cup to his lips one more time but is immediately reminded of the fact that there's nothing left in it so he figures he just looks stupid.

 "Hey," Nora says as she stops in front of him. "You okay?"

 Ren looks up from his empty cup and pushes himself off the wall. He probably used a lot more force than he should've and stumbles a bit, which Nora remedies by putting her hands on his shoulders. She laughs a little, and he can't help but feel even warmer.

 "Guess that answers my question," Nora giggles some more.

 "I'm fine," Ren says. He is very aware of how her fingers are splayed out on his shoulders, the pressure she's putting that's just enough to still him. It keeps him calm, but also doesn't, and his heart is beating so hard she must feel it where her hands are.

 Her eyes scan over his face. "I've never seen your face so red." Ren's sure it only gets redder then. "How much have you had to drink?"

 He wordlessly brings his attention back to the empty cup in his hand, which Nora follows. "You drank all of it?" she points at the cup, her eyes widening. "Ren, I put a lot of vodka in that!"

 Ren blinks a couple times, having to more manually process what Nora said while he was trying not to stare at her mouth. "I can tell," he says, maybe a couple of seconds too late.

 Nora raises an eyebrow. It's another cute look on her. "You don't really drink that much. There a reason why now?"

 There's genuine concern in her voice when she asks that question, and it's so sweet and Ren's heart beats a little faster and he wants to take that concern away from her. But he doesn't think answering that question truthfully is going to help that. Ren's pretty sure the best-case scenario of saying 'you're pretty and I love you' to Nora is causing her confusion to the point of distortion.

 "I was… thirsty." And that's really about as close to the truth as he can get. Ren shakes his head, but not too hard because the room is moving too much already and… ouch. "I'm sure you've had more tonight," nodding towards the beer pong table. She must've, shouldn't she? Is it just his alcohol-addled mind or does Nora not seem any bit of drunk at all?

 She scoffs. "Maybe not. Sun really doesn't like putting too much beer in those cups. Besides, that's beer, not hard liquor. And I'm more experienced with it than you, so it takes a bit more to get me down. I've had more practice."

 Nora shoots him a cheeky grin, a little closer to his face than she was before. She leaned in a bit when she was talking, migrated her hands closer to the base of his neck. It's nothing new. Nora being so physically affectionate is one of her trademark qualities. And Ren's happy to let her do that to him at any time, but he knows he generally seems unresponsive to it. But what if he responds to it now? He's not going to, he's absolutely not going to, but it's easier to fall into that daydream than usual. Ren could wrap his hands around Nora's waist, lean into this little space between them to ultimately close it. He could press his lips to that grin on her face, and Nora would be a little surprised, but in no time at all, she'd be kissing him back. She'd wrap her arms a little easier around his neck and she could press herself a little more against him, the idea of having any distance left between them as unappealing to Nora as it is to Ren.

 "Uhh, Ren?"

 He falls out of the daydream. "Oh! Ah… umm… huh?" She hasn't been saying anything. Ren has been very focused on Nora's mouth for the past couple of minutes, so much that he had missed the blush on her face. He must've missed something happening. Did he say something? The thought of that mortifies him to no end.

 He might've been emoting his thought process on his face because Nora chuckles. "Yeah. That's definitely more alcohol than you're used to." She grabs his hand and leads him over to a couch nearby. Nora lightly pushes him down next to the armrest. "You stay right here," she says firmly, but full of fondness. "I'm gonna get you some water. And I probably need some too." Nora pats his cheek a little, brushes it with her thumb. Ren almost leans into it but she pulls away too soon.

 Nora turns around and goes in search of some water, and characteristically of him tonight, Ren can't help but keep her eyes on her, until he's forced to because there are too many people in that direction. He sighs, sinking into the cushions as he closes his eyes, feeling the warmth bloom in his chest. She's just so caring. Nora is just so caring and she loves people so much. And she's not afraid to give away all that love and care, to allow people to really see that that's what she feels for them, does it without a second thought. That's one of the big things, Ren thinks. That's got to be at least one of the big reasons why he fell in love with Nora.

 She comes back to him with two large water bottles in her hands. Nora tucks one under her arm in order to open the other, which she gives to him. Ren takes it and continues watching Nora as she settles right next to him, sitting down then kicking her legs up onto the couch. She leans back into the cushions and shifts herself more towards him, letting her head rest closer to his shoulder. Nora moves her head a bit to drink some water and then it actually touches his shoulder. Ren loves her so much. Moments like these are so small, and it's not like they don't happen between them very much. But maybe one day Ren will be brave enough to let them happen a lot more often, and those moments will have a slightly different meaning between the two of them than it does now.

 She looks so pretty in this light. Nora looks pretty in any light.

 Nora catches his eye again. She pushes her hand up beneath the water bottle Ren had forgotten that he was holding. "Drink up."

 And who is Ren to refuse her? He starts to sip his first non-alcoholic drink of the night and already his head is starting to feel less like it's filled with cotton. He drinks until the room feels still again, until everything stops looking like it's in slow motion, until there's no more pink clouds on the edges of his vision. Before he knows it, Ren's finished the whole bottle and his throat feels the best it's been all night.

 Despite the lack of pink clouds and an apparent increase in sobriety, Ren still keeps looking at Nora. She's giggling now. He doesn't know what exactly is so funny but that doesn't really matter.

 "Feel better now?" She asks. He nods because he doesn't know just what he'll admit to her right now if he allows himself to speak. "Great. I'm glad they set out those really big water bottles. That really saved me another trip. And you probably didn't drink enough that you'd need ibuprofen or something. I would've said to take some just in case, but I'm not sure what taking meds when something isn't really wrong with you could do to you. I think you should be fine now. Don't think you'll wake up in the morning with a hangover."

 Ren just keeps looking at Nora, without a word. He doesn't need them right now. He doesn't think he needs to do anything else besides look at Nora and hear her talk for the rest of time.

 But something must be wrong because Nora turns her head away a little, shrinking a bit into herself. "Are you mad at me?"

 That surprises him. "No," that is very much not what he was feeling towards Nora right now. "Why would you think that?"

 She heaves out a heavy sigh. "Neptune said you were staring at me the whole time we were playing." Ren's heart stops a little. Nora keeps shrinking down and her voice feels smaller.  "I don't know- I just figured you might be angry at me for leaving you alone at a place I know you'd rather not be."

 Ren straightens up, shifts fully towards her so she can more easily believe what he's about to say. "I told you to go," maybe he's leaning more forward than he usually would, makes more direct eye contact with Nora. "And being here isn't too bad. I just- uh- I uh-" He puts his head down a little, taking some time to find the right words. How does Ren explain the staring? That he just loves the way she exists and who she is and she deserves good times and it's nice when she gets them?

 "You were having fun," Ren brings himself to look back at her, says these words in all earnest. "I like when you have fun."

 That takes her back a little. Nora's eyes widen but her face softens. For one terrifying but almost hopeful moment, Ren thinks she might've understood what he really meant underneath those words. She smiles and brings her hand up to his face. She uses a couple fingers to sweep his bangs to the side. Ren's eyes almost close at the contact.

 "You're so sweet," Nora says, almost like she's in disbelief. "You wanna go back home? I can walk you back."

 "Are you sure?" That does sound like a good idea to Ren, but he doesn't want to take Nora away from something she enjoys just for him. "I'm honestly fine here. I know you were really stressed, I don't mind if you wanna unwind a little more."

 Nora smiles a little wider. "I think I've had a good amount of unwinding here already. If I stay here any longer and leave you unattended, who knows how many more screwdrivers you'll drink." She moves her hand from his forehead down to his cheek. "And you need to get home safe. For the most part, you seem all right now, but I just… I need to make sure."

 Ren leans into the hand Nora has on his cheek. It's a bit more than he'd usually do, but it feels right. "Alright then."

 "Can I crash at yours' too?" she asks. Ren chuckles a little at that, because when has Nora ever needed to ask that.

 "Of course." And then some daydream starts again. They get back to his single dorm and it'll be just like the other times Nora's slept over there. She'll switch tonight's outfit out for some of Ren's pajamas and she'll look just as good, if not better to Ren. They'll lay down and fall asleep in his bed, and that's all they'll do tonight. And then the morning comes and there's no trace of alcohol in their systems and everything's in the clear, and Ren will kiss her, soft and sweet. Nora will kiss him back because she has wanted this just as much as he has. He'll keep a hand on her cheek and maybe she'll tangle her fingers in his hair. Then maybe they end up never leaving the dorm that day, or even the bed. They'll talk, of course. They'll say what needs to be said, about their feelings and anything else. It's decided between them that Nora can sleep at his dorm a lot more often. And when she does, they don't need to struggle as much to fit together on this twin size XL bed, because Ren can wrap himself around her and they can let their legs get tangled together. He can wake up and bury his head into the hollow of Nora's shoulder and just breathe her in. The next time they see their friends, Ren and Nora won't act all that much different, but it won't take long before they realize something's up. They'll get it out of them, and they'll be happy, and then they'll be mercilessly teased because how did it take you two this long? Ren will get a bit embarrassed, but Nora will take it in stride. She'll kiss the blush on his face, and he'll just blush harder, and she'll laugh a little until he does too.

 But Nora in this reality grabs his hand and forces him to stand. He doesn't know if it's just how much he was in that daydream or if he's still a little buzzed from the alcohol, but it's a little disorienting as he makes movements.

 Before he knows it, they're out the front door and into the cold night air. It's a little windy out. Ren wishes he had a jacket to give to Nora.

 They walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of his dorm. Their hands are still intertwined, their arms swinging in between them. They don't speak, not uncommon at all for Ren but a little surprising from Nora. Ren might've wondered at this if we weren’t lost in his own thoughts.

 How close is that daydream to reality? How close could that daydream be to becoming reality? Is it just Ren or are there enough pieces in place for that to happen? All this time he's been worried about losing their friendship, what they already have. But what kind of future could they have? What could they gain? Is all that Ren really needs to do is get over himself?

 Maybe he's still not in his right mind. It certainly can't be that easy. But he can recall a few times when he's caught Nora looking at him. And maybe some of the comments she's passed off as jokes had more truth to them than she lets on.

 Everything about this still feels scary, but not as scary as it was before. He is at least very lucky to fall in love with such an incredible, amazing woman who's already his best friend. He doesn't know what will happen, but he does know what could. And yes, that may include losing the person closest to him. But as devastating as that is, there's another possibility that is at least that amount of wonderful.

 He peers at Nora from the corner of his eye. She's tucking some hair behind her ear to keep it from flapping in the breeze. Her hand is so warm in his.

 Ren's not going to do anything like confess to her tonight. Or the next morning. But looking at Nora, and holding her hand, and thinking about the good possibilities - he thinks he's starting to build up the courage.

[gveret-fic]

A lil fic in which Gideon showers with her clothes on, changes in the dark, applies her face paint out of a manual, and doesn't touch herself ever. Well. Hardly ever.

HtN spoilers ahead!

---

A bit anticlimactic, if you ask me, after slaying brain melting horror bees and swimming right out of hell, for my next great big challenge to be trying to figure out how to take a dump in a prudish little nun’s body without compromising its modesty.

Not to put too fine a point on it or anything, my sombre bathroom break micromanager, but you really didn’t stick the landing on this one. You had a letter for basically every contingency, like you had one for if God sneezed really hard and blew out the sun, I’m pretty sure, and then mine was basically just ‘fuck you, return to sender’. You just went and parked your porsche in my landing pad with the blasters still on and didn’t even bother to leave the DRY CLEANING ONLY tag on the upholstery. I had to come up with a virtue-preserving game plan all on my lonesome, you know.

And I've been such a good girl, Harrow, you'd be proud. Well, at least you'd be such an unexpectedly small, tiny, miniscule, astonishingly negligible amount of pissed off that it's basically pride at that point, right.

Don't get me wrong, it was a logistical nightmare. Ever tried to shower in multiple robes plus what I must assume are, like, pantaloons? The sonic flaps it all the fuck around, and let me tell you, getting spanked by heavy Ninth vestments is now officially off my kink list. Now, the other option is wet dog trapped in straightjacket, and I'm not too keen on that one either. But I stuck with it. It takes like 20 minutes, no joke, to struggle out of all your stupid layers in the dark, with my eyes closed, without touching any of your most hallowed skin. But I've got a knack for it now, you know? If I ever get the chance to get a lil frisky, maybe with a hot ghost or something I don't know, I can totally impress her with my wild 100% contact free striptease skills.

What I'm saying is, I've been such a super duper chaste and meticulous and ephemeral little make believe nun it's like I was never even here. So you gotta take that into consideration, Harrow, when you pass your terrible judgment once I tell you how I've sinned.

So, it happened when I was putting your face paint on. It wasn’t half bad, either. Really, it was half good. I’ve been practicing. I found this horrible little book full of the gnarliest, creepiest, just most hideous skull faces, and they all had these pretentious titles like The Palm of the Storm or The Young Boy’s Booger. Just your style, basically.

But I was looking at your face in the mirror—that’s the way paint application goes, Harrow, don’t pout—and I got stuck on your pinched, bloodless lips for some reason, and I forgot for a moment that it was me in your muscles, and I just thought, wow, you looked so sad. You always looked so goddamn sad, and no one ever did a fucking thing about it, least of all you, and in that moment I was so angry about it, I could smack you.

So naturally I reached out and I brushed your knuckle gently over your cheek. And lo, I wasn’t struck down on the spot. That gave me a bit of a confidence boost, I suppose. I ran your thumb under your eye, just a little avuncular half circle while thinking just the purest fucking thoughts, and it came away wet.

Really got you going, that one little barely there swipe. You needed this real bad, Nonagesimus. I needed this, too. We were gagging for it. We were crying for it. I needed you to be touched gently, so bad, and I needed even badder to be the one doing the touching. I knew you wouldn't want that, of course, don't feel the need to defend your honor. This was my best compromise, okay? I didn't have a lot to work with. This way you wouldn't really be touched and I wouldn't really be touching, but maybe we'd both get a little something out of it anyway.

This is maybe a good time to confess those thoughts weren't so totally super pure. They were maybe a little muddier, a little earthier, you know. Harrow, listen, I've been thinking a lot about your body, what with living in it for months and having only the one made up magazine to look at and being balls to the wall in love and all. Sorry. So when I tell you I've been thinking about running my fingertip over your eyebrow from glabella to sphenoid, what I'm saying is I've fantasized about the texture of each one of your big black goddamn eyebrow hairs so much my finger's never not tingly anymore. And when I wiped your eye with a tiny knuckle and ran that smooth little fingertip along your real ass eyebrow, Harrow, there was a definite fucking tingle, and I didn't fucking stop.

I traced the smooth plane of your frontal bone, the proud arch of your brow ridge. I dragged your fingertips over your temple and into the mass of your sweaty, overlong hair. The side of your finger grazed the shell of your ear, and you shivered—your ears are so sensitive, Nonageaimus, I thought this stuff only happened in porn—and I felt the full, terrifying shape of your skull in my hand. I cupped the back of your sore-ass neck in a palm and I squeezed just a little, just to let us know we were held, and I worked our fingertips into those nonexistent traps that still somehow managed to be clenched tighter than a stoma that's munched down on one too many emperors. I kneaded them good until they loosened just a bit, and we were still crying like a little bitch.

I squeezed your shoulder, the clavicle pressing sharply into our palm, and I stroked down your bicep, which did not deserve the name, by the way, and I brushed the inside of your elbow and I dragged the underside of your bitten fingernails up your forearm and over that terrifyingly delicate wrist and your doll sized soft palm and then I held your fucking hand.

Yeah, I laced our fucking fingers together, Harrow. Eat me.

I could feel your heart beating in our interdigital folds, I was holding your hand so hard and so intertwiney. And we were definitely feeling some kind of way just then. I had to sit down on your bony ass, your eyes leaking, your shoulders shaking, as I was having just the most mortifying little breakdown over holding my own hand.

I'm sorry, Harrow. I wanted to hug you a lot, these past few months. There were so many moments I wanted to reach outside of you, all like blerghgrgh sudden gorgeous beefy arm bursting out of your stomach to smack Shittier Gideon in the balls or give Shittier Tridentarius a purple nurple. I wanted to give you a pat on the head, tell you've been a good good doggie and you can take a lil break now. Wanted to rub your shoulders and arms all over, force a bit of warmth into em even if I've given up on muscle. Wanted to brace the heel of my palm at the small of your back, squeeze your hips and pull em back, run a hand along that spine to make it proud again, just to give you some support, just to see you stand up straight. Wanted to rub the frown right off your brow, poke your lil cheeks and make you snarl, give you something nice and tough to bite on. But mostly I just wanted to hold you.

I wanted to wrap you tight, so that you'd become a compact little package with well defined edges and maybe then you could open it all up and let it out. Only in my big stupid arms, I'd think selfishly, like some sort of grand duke of self delusion, would you finally feel safe enough to cry.

Nah. Who was I kidding? It was me who was crying. It was me who wanted to be comforted, to be touched kindly, to have her hand held, and it was only me who was getting anything out of doing this stupid weird creepy bullshit. I wasn't giving you shit, Nonagesimus. I just wanted to hold your hand.

I didn't let go, though. Again, Harrow, sorry. Your body didn't care that it was only you, only me. Your skin and your flesh and all those bits you didn't care about wanted this too, probably. The pressure, and the warmth, the illusion or the weird roundabout reality of another person who cares about you. Maybe I'm making excuses again. But I care about you, Harrow. You'll believe that much, won't you? I care about your body. I care about all the non-skeleton parts of you, even. Baffling, I know.

So I sat on your ass, and I bent your head over our joined hands, and I cried, and I didn't let go.

[laurore-stormwitch]

Did someone say Zoya and Genya getting ready for a ball? I had this sitting in my computer for a while. I've written it at the same time of the Nikolai/Genya interaction and went for that instead, leaving this unfinished, so that's the reason why they're similar. But even if this is not wildly original I decided to post it, maybe some of you will enjoy it anyway!

together now - AO3

word count: 2661 (cause I can’t write short fics sorry)

______________________________________________________________

“Zoya, if you move again, I’m going to turn your hair purple.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. Drama queen. Whoever believed that getting ready for a party with your friends was fun, clearly never had to deal with Genya’s perfectionist and dictatorial tendencies. She purposely shifted in her chair in front of the vanity, making Genya glare at her.

“Do you want me to complete my masterpiece or not?”

No, not really. Nothing about going to Sainkt Nikolai’s ball seemed to be exciting. Dreadful and annoying were the only two terms she could come up with to describe the evening in front of her. Mainly having to do to the fact that she was going to have to watch Nikolai and his future wife simper over courtiers and nobles, with the bride-to-be practically coerced to attend the ball. And she wasn’t even allowed to get drunk; saints forbid someone attempted to murder the king again.

“Do you want your hair up or down?” Asked Genya, moving some strands of her hair over her ears.

“Are you really inquiring for my opinion?” The squaller noted ironically, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“No, of course not. Down is better, they make you seem wilder.”

She winked at her and Zoya huffed again. Genya began braiding some thin locks away from her face, leaving the rest of her mane free on her shoulders. She weaved the fine tresses with silver threads and held them in place with diamonds pins. Zoya relaxed under her delicate touch.

“A bit more practice with breaking Grisha’s orders and I’m going to tailor myself at some point. What are you going to do when the day comes?”

She had meant it as a joke, the tone light. But through the mirror she saw a shadow pass behind Genya’s eyes and immediately regretted her words and lack of tact. They knew only one person who had held as much power as Zoya was wielding now; he was rotting in a cell beneath them, and Genya would forever wear his marks on her skin. Of course her mind would have run to him; she tended to darken whenever they touched the argument surrounding Zoya’s newly acquired abilities.

“I hadn’t meant to make you think about that, Genya. I’m sorry.”

Genya smiled at her, coming back to her delightful self.

“It’s okay. I’m just a bit worried about - well, about everything. How is it going with these powers? I’ve spied on you summoning fire the other day. You were glorious.”

Zoya curled her lips and held up her arm, making the fetter made of dragon scales dangle. Juris rumbled inside her. She had told Genya what happened in the Fold, in broad outline. Zoya knew that even if they didn’t say it, they were all concerned with this. She caught them glancing at her sometimes, as if they were waiting for a ticking bomb to go off. It was unpleasant, but she understood them; after all, she was waiting for herself to go off too.

“I’m managing. I’m still not so sure of what I can or cannot do.”

Genya kept working on her hairstyle thoughtfully, letting the quiet stretch between them. She bit her lower lip before adding something else, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Does it feel good?”

Zoya understood that question too. Power is protection. No matter the cost, it would always hold its appeal for a Grisha. That was the pull they felt towards the Darkling too.

“It feels risky.” She answered after a while, releasing a long breath. It was not like her to betray uncertainty or weakness, but she hadn’t anticipated how both frightening and fascinating it would feel to be in this position. “It’s so much power, Genya. What if I can’t control it?”

“If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you, Zoya.” There was not hesitation in this answer. Yet, Zoya didn’t feel much reassured. She didn’t have a sense of who – or what – she was becoming.

“What if it’s too much power?” She realized that was not the right question, the one thing she dreaded to come true. She corrected herself. “What if it’s not enough, and I want more?”

At this, Genya paused, avoiding Zoya’s gaze, and fell terribly silent. She looked worried, almost scared. A shiver went through Zoya’s spine at the idea of eliciting something like fear in one of the people she loved most. She felt a stabbing guilt and the sudden realization that she didn’t want to explore this topic more and find out what Genya was thinking. She waved a soothing smile at her friend, hoping to stir this exchange away.  

“Enough of this. Don’t you want to show me the dress?”

Genya’s eye lightened up as she was pulled out from her gloom towards a more delightful diversion. She turned to the bed and pulled up Zoya’s gown, handing it to her. As usual, Genya had outdid herself. The gown matched the decor in her hair: Zoya thought of the dark midnight sky over Pachina while looking at it, one of the few memories she held from her childhood. When Genya moved it towards her, a million tiny crystals sparkled like stars against the sheer fabric. Zoya slipped inside it gracefully and turned to her, making the dress shimmer; the red head was gloating.

“I always give you the best dresses. All eyes are going to be stuck on you.”

Zoya doubted it, considering how equally gorgeous the other girl was looking right now, hugged by velvet the colour of blood. Genya made her wirl around on herself while she smoothed the dress; Zoya tried to reach for the wine, but Genya snatched the glass from her hands. She shrugged her shoulders at her outraged look. “What? I’m not going to let you stain this magnificent gown, excuse me.”

“You know, you have David’s adoration all for yourself.” Zoya pointed out, scowling. “Don’t get greedy. Let them admire me instead. If I can’t get drunk, I can at least have a different kind of fun.”

Genya rolled her single eye turning her gaze to Zoya, furrowing a brow at her.

“I do hope that by now you know that you have someone’s adoration all for yourself, too.”

Genya had clearly noticed the subtle shifts in Zoya and Nikolai’s behaviour, since she had been dropping this casual and mildly vague comments for a while now. At first, Zoya just ignored them; but then it occurred to her that denying what was going on was not the way to fight this. That maybe the right angle was to approach it much like a military campaign: know your enemy before you defy it. Which for her, it meant to understand what was happening so that she could crush it. And since feelings were not an area of expertise for Zoya, she had figured Genya could come in handy. So at some point she had just let it become a mutual understanding that this whatever-it-was-thing was out in the open, and she started posing carefully pondered question of her own. Zoya crossed Genya’s eye for an instant, replying with a sceptical click of her tongue.

“Both his adoration and his efforts better be for Ehri, for all our sakes. Much like his gaze better be kept on her all night like she’s the most beautiful creature to ever grace this earth. If he cannot sell it to her, at least he has to sell it for the rest of the world.”

“With you in that dress it’s going to be a challenge to look at anyone else.” Teased Genya, grinning. Zoya glared at her, pushing down the uncomfortable satisfaction this remark brought.

“He seems rather immune to my appearance and my presence.”

A poor and unconvincing objection, to say the least. Genya scoffed, handing her the wine as if she was going to need it to hear what came next. Zoya gladly took the offering.

“You do realize I’m a Corporalki, right?”

“What would that mean, apart from making people faint every now and then?”

“It means he can keep his eyes trained on the ceiling all night for all I care, because I’ll still feel his heartbeat spike up every time you pass beside him.”

Zoya didn’t much like to have this particular piece of information, that stirred some unpleasant feelings in her lungs. She swallowed the rest of the alcohol, her throat burning for something else entirely.

“Do you peer in all your friend’s visceral reaction for fun?”

“Just the two of you. Want to know what happens with you?” Mused Genya, knowing damn well the curiosity that sparkled in Zoya’s eyes and even more well feeling her breath itch. Know your enemy, right? Zoya grunted, not even bothering to try and look unfazed.

“Fine. Rip the band aid off.”

“Your heart usually beats like it’s at war. On the contrary, it slows down when he’s around, like you feel- I don’t know, safer. At home.”

Zoya fell silent, turning the words over in her head. It was always a punch in the gut when she wondered when things have started to turn and understood just how much they had turned. Instead of lingering on this painful realization, she did what she knew best and deflected the conversation again where it hurt most. She had the strange belief that if the heart was indeed a muscle, you had to train it like any other one in your body. The more pressure and blows you would put into it, the less you would feel the pain with time. Yuyeh sesh. Be cruel to your heart.

“How are the preparation for the wedding going?”

“As good as they can be.” Genya’s gaze turned sweet and affectionate, and she went along. “No one would say anything, you know. If you wanted to stay away for a while or get some distance.”

“We both know that a lot of people would say a lot of things.” Zoya held her chin high. “And you know that’s not my way of doing things. This is my place; I’m not going to let anyone take it away.”

I don’t want to live in darkness. She fought and lost and suffered to get to where she was. She was certainly not going to give it up for a bad timed and poorly chosen crush. An idiotic and simple crush. Genya nodded, getting the hint that it was enough for today. She seemed to remember something and got back to her tailoring kit.

“Speaking of Nikolai, there’s one thing missing. He gave them to me before I came here.”

Genya walked towards her and clipped what looked like a pin on her dress. She made her turn around to look herself in the mirror. Zoya felt something warming her from the inside when she looked at it; it was more of a medal than a pin. Ravka’s double eagle was shining on her chest, pleated gold, with Alina’s sun behind it and an Etherealki blue ribbon. It resembled the medals she saw on the supposedly war heroes’ generals that worked with Nikolai, but it was more elegant. She brushed her finger on it, full of pride.

“Me and David have one too.” Genya showed her the other one she was holding before securing it on herself. It was Corporalki red. “David has a Materialki purple ribbon. Nikolai told me people should always know we are his most trusted generals and friends. That we work for Ravka as much as he does, and we are owed the same respect, even at a ball.”

Respect. Recognition. Another time, Nikolai managed to surprise her. Because this wasn’t just a pretty thing, a nice embellishment. And while she had been his general for almost three years, that didn’t mean people had accepted and treated her with the appropriate regard. This was a symbol of the king’s trust, something that would force the nobles and the army to behave accordingly, even at events where it would be so easy to down-play her and treat her like another beautiful hollow courtier. Stupid thoughtful Nikolai. She was torn between wanting to kill him for making her feel like this or kiss him senseless for the same reason. Get a grip, Zoya.

“You’re not going to be like him, Zoya.” Zoya startled at Genya words, confused for a moment. She cleared her throat, shoving the treacherous thoughts she was having away. Genya had moved beside her, taking her hand in her own. Looking at Genya firm and proud gaze, she realized they were not talking about Nikolai anymore, and that she hadn’t dropped the conversation before because she was scared or angry at her. It was because she understood where Zoya’s fears were coming from, and she was facing them head on now.

“The Darkling.” She added to clarify, lingering on his name with a tremor in her voice. “Even with all the power you have, you are nothing like him. You managed to do what he had always claimed he wanted, and he had never done: you are saving Grishas, you are rebuilding the Second Army and you hold a position as the King’s right hand. What drives you is not the hunger for power; is the care you have for Ravka and your people. The Darkling wanted to control them, to own them. You protect them.”

Zoya tightened the hold of her hand, while looking at their reflections in the mirror, in the stunning gowns and the triumvirate’s pins. Two women who had believed in the wrong man and kept paying the price for their ingenuity, who had saved themselves in the end. She sucked in a breath, seeing someone she barely recognized; there was almost nothing left of the scared little girl. With the medal on her chest, diamonds in her hair and a glowing fierce light in her eyes she really looked like the leader she aspired to be. She wondered if she was still pretending, or some of the act was now true.

“Stop me before I can become like him.” Zoya blurted out, the words unsteady and whispered. Genya shook her head, leaning in towards her.

“You are different in every way. And you have something he never had; you have people who love you. Believe me, Nikolai is going to burn down all of Os Alta before he lets anything happen to you. None of us is going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not afraid of something happening to me, rather than to others.” What if I hurt Nikolai? What if I hurt anyone of you? Genya lowered her head on her shoulder, still holding her hand.

“We fought our way out of his grip once. We’re not going to let him bring us down. We’re stronger than we were before.”

“And we’re together, now.”

Zoya needed something to anchor herself on; the words felt uncertain, more like a question. Because she knew, deep down she knew she was still somehow living by what he had taught her: love is a weakness. And she knew that while Genya talked of friendship, Zoya herself was distancing from everyone. That she was suffocating her feelings for Nikolai, effectively cutting out the person she had relied on the most. That she didn’t know how to be close to someone. That, like the Darkling, she felt destined to be alone. And yet a part of her still needed to believe that a strand of what she conquered was going to save her, that someone was going to reach for her.

“And we’re together.”

Genya repeated, more firmly. We’re not going to let him bring us down another time. A litany. It was our blood on the skiffs, in the sand, on the rocks of a mountain. I’m nothing like him. An enchantment. And we’re together. He had taught her wrong. One day she would be free of this last cage, too.

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] tu es mon âme sœur

Rating: T Characters: Li Zeyan/Reader Word Count: 4753

Tags: Established Relationship. Fluff.

A/N: Can you believe it's already been another year? Happy birthday to the 32 year old!

Summary: Every smile, every glance, every breath is known down to the soul. You aren't sure whether you want this prank to succeed or fail, but the result ends up being unforgettable.

You stared at the unfamiliar reflection in the mirror. "This is a bad idea."

"You promised to attend my party," your friend, an old university classmate, reminded you as she sat in front of another dresser mirror beside you, getting finishing touches done on her by a professional makeup artist.

"I promised to attend your pre-wedding party, which I did, not this."

"Don't tell me you're not even the slightest bit curious about if Li Zeyan will fall for it?"

"......"

Much to your shame, she had you there. A little devil on your shoulder whispered that this was going to be a hilarious prank.

Sighing, you carefully propped your chin in your hand and recalled the whole series of events that led you to this moment of waiting for your friend to finish getting ready and join you and the rest of the bridesmaids and high-class escort women in the room.

It all started several months ago when you received a wedding invitation from this classmate. You were delighted to attend as her bridesmaid and, during the process of organizing everything, when she found out you would be in the country in January she decided to hold a pre-wedding party. Unfortunately, the only date that was convenient for everyone was January 12.

To be honest, it cut a little too close to Li Zeyan's birthday, January 13, for your liking but your friend promised to release you and Li Zeyan at the stroke of midnight and, since you and he had decided beforehand to have a low-key celebration this year, you ended up agreeing.

So, you and Li Zeyan attended what you thought would just be a pre-wedding dinner for your friend and her fiancé, except the dinner ended earlier than you expected and then you were dragged away by your friend to her bachelorette party while Li Zeyan had to go with the fiancé to his bachelor party.

That still would have been normal... until you found out that the bachelorette party was to sneak into the bachelor party as "escorts" under the guise of them being a present sent by the bride. In the words of your friend, this would be the last time her fiancé was allowed to freely eye another woman before he became hers.

But your friend thought it would be hilarious if she and the bridesmaids went in undercover with the real escorts. There was no fear of anything outrageous happening as the high-class escorts were only there for conversation and light flirting.

You weren't of the same mind as your friend though. You didn't even need to think for a second as to what Li Zeyan's expression would be once he saw the escorts. However, your friend pointed out how much fun it would be to pull one over Li Zeyan. Then, once he realized his mistake in treating you coldly, he would have to make it up to you.

This was what spurred on the little devil on your shoulder.

"Alright, ladies, are we ready?" Your friend clapped her hands when she finished admiring her disguise and thanked the makeup artist.

You glanced at the mirror again, still a bit startled to see the unfamiliar face that looked back at you. Your eyes were narrower with eyeliner, but they were framed with eyelashes thickened by delicately applied mascara and smoky eyeshadow. Contour brought out your cheekbones and lipstick made it look as if you had a heart-shaped pout. All of this combined with an intricate hairdo that exposed the line of your neck and a cocktail dress lent to you that likely costed 6 figures made you look like one of the women on the arms of the men at the business parties Li Zeyan attended.

As everyone started to head out, your friend reminded, "Don't forget, whoever can last the longest without being recognized will get a prize."

#

A staff member of the five star restaurant where the bachelor party was being held brought you, the bride, and the rest of the women to the private suite where the men were. The quality of the establishment showed when you couldn't hear any noise from behind the door even though you were just a few steps away.

Your friend gave one last mischievous look to everyone as the staff knocked on the door and received permission to enter.

"Gentlemen, a present from the bachelorette party."

The women streamed in despite the fiancé spluttering and attempting to refuse this service. Each bridesmaid was between two real escorts to reduce their chances of being discovered and you were no different, entering the room as the sixth person.

The first thing you noticed upon walking in was the number of empty wine bottles on the table. It was clear the men had been drinking for a while now and maybe their tipsy state would make it harder for them to recognize you and the bridesmaids.

The second thing you noticed was how everyone's position in the room seemed to be angled towards a certain point. The place where Li Zeyan sat on a sofa.

It was almost as if he was holding court in this room and, even when he sat there in silence and simply swirled the wine glass in his hand with a languid air, his presence drew the eye and commanded everyone's attention. In fact, this was shown when the fiancé—failing to extract himself from two escorts who seated themselves beside him to convince him to let them stay—looked towards Li Zeyan hesitantly.

"CEO Li, um..." He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to anger his bride by rejecting her present but he also didn't want to anger Li Zeyan, one of the most powerful and influential men in the business world.

Li Zeyan, who didn't even spare a glance at the women when they came in and had been looking at his wine glass, raised his eyes.

You held your breath and fought against the urge to scoot behind another woman because any movement now would just stand out. Instead, you pasted on a nonchalant look that seemed to work since his eyes swept over you without pause.

Li Zeyan looked back at the fiancé. "Today is for you and your bride."

The fiancé's shoulders slumped with relief at the implied permission before he turned to accept the women and let them mingle with everyone else in the room. Soon, the party was back in full swing with some men and women going off to play billiards in the room, some forming groups to chat, and others still sat around drinking and discussing business.

Before arriving, your friend decided that everyone would first sit beside someone they didn't know to keep from being busted right at the beginning. Then, as the night wore on, people could increase their challenge by seeing how close they could get to someone who knew them.

So, at present, you sat beside a groomsman you were unfamiliar with in one of the chatting groups and maintained light conversation while splitting your attention to observe Li Zeyan's side.

He was discussing business with a smaller group of people, which included the fiancé. Or more like it was the rest of them talking and he would occasionally nod or say something in a few words.

Polite but indifferent.

This was what came to mind as you watched him. You were honest enough to admit to feeling a little jealous and possessive when you saw an escort make a beeline for Li Zeyan; however, he completely ignored her attempts to catch his attention. Rather, as time dragged on, you started to feel sympathetic for her and the sub-zero temperature and atmospheric pressure she must be experiencing.

But then your eyes widened when you saw her lean over, clearly intending to place a hand on Li Zeyan's thigh, to top off his wine glass. His eyes cut over to her the moment she shifted though and you saw the escort flinch back, nearly spilling the bottle. Li Zeyan's lips moved as he said something to her that made her face pale before she quickly got up to leave. Curiosity nibbled at you and you decided to take this opportunity to excuse yourself from your group to cross the room, heading for the empty space beside Li Zeyan.

Your friend caught your eye when you started moving and raised her eyebrows, impressed at the risk you were already taking. She seemed to take your actions as a challenge and also got up to make her way to her fiancé's side.

When you arrived at Li Zeyan's seat, he glanced at you before returning his gaze back to the others in conversation. He looked neither welcoming nor disapproving when you sat down which left you wondering if he recognized you or not. You weren't sure how you felt about that. Disappointed? Relieved?

You listened to the men talk and it was only during a lull in their conversation that Li Zeyan moved his eyes over to you again.

"You're much quieter than the other woman."

Those were his first words to you in your disguise. Did he scare off the previous escort by calling her noisy and showing his displeasure? You amused yourself with these thoughts before replying in a demure voice, "CEO Li seems to appreciate silence."

"Oh?" Interest flickered through his eyes. "What other impression do you have of me?"

You stilled when he subtly turned towards you and the force of his attention landed on you. He was reclined against the back of the sofa, one arm resting on its back while his left hand elegantly held his wine glass. But the relaxed appearance of his body couldn't disperse the cold sharpness in his eyes. It was like he was measuring your reaction and you had never seen Li Zeyan look at you with such impersonal eyes before, as if you were nothing but a trifling amusement.

"Go on, I won't be angry." He seemed to take your lack of response for a fear of reprisal.

You hedged, unsure still if you wanted him to recognize you or not, "... You don't speak much but, when you do, it's direct and to the point, so you seem to value words and efficacy. You're also very knowledgeable about business, but perhaps that's to be expected of the CEO of Huarui."

"Hm."

He didn't confirm or disagree with any of your words. Instead, you could see that he was about to return to conversing with the other men and, for some reason not wanting his attention to leave, you blurted out, "And me?"

Li Zeyan paused and raised an eyebrow.

"What impression do you have of me?"

"You wish to know?" He asked.

"It's only fair after I told you mine, right?"

The weight of his gaze was heavy and you wondered if this was going to be what busted you. Did that sound too much like something you would say? You searched his eyes for any sign of recognition but you couldn't read anything from them.

Suddenly, he raised his glass and tilted his head back, draining all the wine in one go. You watched on as the expanse of his throat was revealed before your eyes, Adam's apple bobbing, before he lowered the empty glass and tilted it in your direction, a silent demand for you to fill it up. Because he drank all the wine at once, remnants of the liquid clung to his mouth and you had to rip your eyes off of those moist lips.

Lowering your head, you grabbed a wine bottle from the table to fill his glass but, just as you started to pour, you heard movement beside you and then a hot breath landed on your ear.

"I find you to be inexplicable."

Your hand jerked and you would have spilled the wine if Li Zeyan hadn't reached out and caught your wrist, seeming to have predicted your reaction. The heat of his palm scorched your skin and you had no idea when he even sat up straight and leaned over to whisper to you.

When you remained frozen in his hold, he finished topping off his own glass before he released you and turned his attention back to the other men, as if nothing had happened. When the others saw that Li Zeyan was finished with you, they enthusiastically engaged him in business talks again.

You didn't know what to feel. Did he do that because he recognized you? But that didn't seem to be the case. If he knew it was you then would he have turned away so quickly? But if he didn't know it was you, then...

You looked at a clock on the wall. There was still an hour to go before midnight.

Conversations ebbed and flowed around you and yet, as you sat there, you were abruptly struck by a sense of loneliness. You couldn't bring yourself to be interested in anything that was being discussed and, even though you were beside Li Zeyan like normal, it couldn't be any more different.

Your mood dropped.

The times you attended business parties with him, no matter how boring the conversation was, you could always find something to do. Sometimes, you would hold onto his hand underneath a table and play with his fingers. Sometimes, he would lean over to supplement what was being talked about or he would tell you what he heard about the people in attendance, knowing you enjoyed those things. He always had a way of partaking in business while being attentive to you.

But that wasn't the case here.

Worse, as you watched Li Zeyan and the men talk, you noticed he would occasionally furrow his brows. It was extremely subtle but, knowing him as you did, you could see the fatigue settling on him. Guilt welled up in you. What began with him accompanying you to your classmate's pre-wedding party ended up with him being separated from you and having to be polite to the bridegroom when he had no relationship with him. Everyone in this room treated him like a benefit they had to win over.

The bride's prank and this whole situation lost all of its appeal for you. You just wanted to head home with Li Zeyan and relax. But you couldn't grab him and drag him out of here without revealing your identity if he didn't recognize you. However, if you revealed your identity then it would ruin your classmate's bachelorette party.

Standing up amidst the turmoil of your emotions, you didn't know what excuse you used before you walked through the suite to the attached balcony that was out of sight of the main room.

The fresh air of the night swept away the smothering atmosphere of the room behind you and you placed your bare forearms on the metal balcony railing, letting the chill seep into your body and shock you into soberness.

You must have gotten lost in your thoughts, staring out at the lights of the city, because the next thing you knew you felt the heavy weight of a jacket being draped on you. Just as you startled, a familiar scent of sandalwood enveloped you and a warm body pressed against your back, wrapping its arm around your waist.

"Idiot, you'll catch a cold if you stand out here like this."

"Idiots don't catch colds," you retorted automatically, only to hear an exasperated sigh.

But then your brain caught up to your mouth and you whirl around in the loose embrace, looking up to see Li Zeyan watching you.

"Zeyan!? Wait, you recognize me?"

"How could I not?"

"When?!"

"From the start," he answered dryly.

"But if you recognized me, then how come you acted like... like that?" You made a vague hand gesture to the room behind him to encompass everything.

His breaths stirred your hair. "You didn't reveal yourself, so I assumed it was some sort of ridiculous game either you or your classmate came up with."

Okay, you couldn't blame him for including you since you did get convinced at the start. What amazed you was how willing he was to play along. But, thinking about it more, maybe it wasn't amazing because his consideration for you always appeared in these small ways.

You burrowed yourself into his chest, hugging him and feeling his arms come up around you in return. "Thank you."

Soaking in his warmth and the sound of his steady heartbeat, you were content to simply enjoy his silent presence. But then a thought occurred to you and you shifted to prop your chin against his chest, looking up at the bottom of his jaw.

"How did you recognize me?"

"I have eyes."

You glared at him and drew back to poke him in the waist, "Not an answer! Give me details."

"Behave," Li Zeyan said lowly as he grabbed your mischievous hand and laced his fingers with yours to prevent you from using it. He sighed underneath your expectant eyes though and answered, "Only you would demand me to answer your questions. Like now."

So you did give yourself away when you asked him for his impression of you. Or more like that confirmed his suspicions.

"Your perfume gave you away as well."

"My perfume?" You echoed, only to remember you had put on a rose fragrance which Li Zeyan had gifted you. "When did you... oh."

You stopped yourself from asking the obvious question of when he smelled your perfume. It was clearly when he asked you to fill up his wine and leaned over to whisper to you. So, he was definitely bullying you there!

As if he saw the beginning of an angry pout on your face, Li Zeyan moved the topic past that. "You were also looking at the clock."

"I only looked once or twice. How did you see that when you weren't paying attention to me?"

He gave you a look you had long ago deciphered to mean that your intelligence was dropping drastically right now in his eyes.

"Okay, okay, nothing escapes your attention. And? What else?"

Li Zeyan raised an eyebrow, amused. "What makes you think there's more?"

"Hmph, just like you know me, I know you too!"

"Dummy, is this something to be that proud of?" Even though his voice was exasperated, there was a shadow of a smile on his lips and his hands were extremely gentle when he raised them to cup your face. His thumbs brushed along your cheekbones, right below your eyes. "And... you're the only one who has these eyes. You look at me as if I'm someone who can tire and get hurt."

"Because you can," you protested quietly.

You didn't know when the distance between you two shrank, but you could feel his breaths on your face and the city lights behind you shone in his eyes, making it look as if someone spilled stars into a grey-blue sea. Unlike before, when you couldn't read anything from him, his eyes seemed to glimmer with tenderness now. You were close enough to see yourself reflected and you knew, with absolute certainty, that in this moment he was seeing nothing but you.

His voice was low. "Also... your eyes are clear. You don't want anything from me."

"Not true," you managed to say through a mouth that had gone dry.

"Oh?"

The darkness may have hid the redness of your cheeks from his eyes, but he probably felt your rising temperature beneath his hands. "I want... a kiss."

You thought you heard a murmured "idiot" carried in a huff of laughter but you couldn't be sure because it was soon drowned out by the sound of a distant bell tower ringing in midnight and your pounding heart when his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was gentle. Infinitely gentle.

His hands held your face more firmly, angling your head so he could feel you that much deeper with his mouth.

He kissed you again and again.

You were breathless by the time he drew back. He swiped his thumb against your lower lip, a frown momentarily surfacing on his face. "Don't wear so much lipstick next time. It's not good to ingest this amount."

Before you could point out with a laugh that Li Zeyan had some on his lips too, he pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket on you and wiped the thumb he used before scrubbing at your lips. You grabbed his hand, scrunching up your nose at his actions. "Hurts."

He stopped immediately at your words but, after seeing the playful look in your eyes, he rolled his eyes. However, he still bent down and kissed you.

When he drew back, you grabbed the handkerchief from him and wiped his lips for him. He startled at first but quickly realized what you were doing and kept his head lowered to let you reach him easier. You heard the distant sound of the bell tower again as you did this and, this time, you had enough presence of mind to realize what it meant.

"Happy birthday, Zeyan!"

"Mm."

Li Zeyan caught you as you dove into his chest again to hug him. The earlier gloom you had been feeling at the party was completely gone now and you were just filled with contentment in this moment. But the thought of the party suddenly reminded you of something.

"Ah!"

"What is it now?" He asked, exasperated.

"It's midnight, meaning we can go home!"

There didn't seem to be a change in his mood or tone at your words. Instead, he asked, "Is that what you want to do?"

You nodded in reply. Your classmate had more than enough fun tonight and she already promised you beforehand to let you and Li Zeyan go at midnight, so you didn't feel like staying here any longer.

His arms tensed around you for a minute, as if reluctant to release you, before he nodded and escorted you back into the room.

Li Zeyan kept you on his arm when the two of you returned, disregarding everyone's astonished eyes, and walked directly over to the bridegroom to give his congratulations and farewells. You exchanged looks with your classmate, who was beside her fiancé, to let her know you were going now. However, just as you and Li Zeyan were prepared to leave, the fiancé stopped you both.

"CEO Li, wait! I-I'm afraid you can't go just y-yet..." the bridegroom repeatedly threw glances at you and stuttered as Li Zeyan's eyes grew colder, "I-I should let my fiancée know you're leaving early. S-she would want to thank you for your attendance..."

The man hemmed and hawed and, for a second, you were utterly confused as to why he was insistent on stopping Li Zeyan from leaving until you realized he was under the impression that Li Zeyan was heading home with an escort woman.

Li Zeyan seemed to realize this at the same time you did and his eyes warmed a fraction at the courage and decency of the other man. "CEO Kang, rest assured, I am leaving with the right woman. In regard to your business proposal, you can submit it to Huarui's relevant departments and I will consider it. However, I would recommend you get your eyes examined if you cannot even recognize your own bride beside you."

Before the bridegroom could react with anything more than a stunned silence, Li Zeyan left the room with you.

You were still laughing when you and Li Zeyan were outside the restaurant, waiting for the parking valet to bring his car around. There was a soft smile on the corner of his lips as he watched you laugh against him.

"Was it that funny?"

Your intermittent giggles were his answer but then you asked, "Do I really look different?"

Li Zeyan accepted his keys from the valet, when they arrived, and unlocked the doors to his car before he glanced at you. "No."

"Not even a little prettier?" Now you just felt bad for the professional makeup artist who spent so long on your disguise.

He withdrew his arm out of your hand to pull open and hold the door for you. "I prefer you to look and wear whatever makes you most comfortable."

Inwardly, you blessed the night again for hiding the faint heat on your cheeks. You were just about to get into the car when a thought occurred and you glanced up at him, lips twitching. "I just had this thought, but what if a reporter gets a picture of you taking home an unknown woman? What a scandal."

Li Zeyan leaned down, supporting himself with a hand on the roof of the car while the other continued to hold the door, trapping you between him and the car. His voice was filled with arrogance, "Who dares?"

"Okay, okay, Big Bad CEO, take me home," you giggled and pecked him on the lips before getting into the car.

#

You were dragged out of your sleep the next morning by your phone vibrating like crazy on the side table. Squirming around the bare arm draped loosely across your waist, you blindly reached out and felt around the table before finally grabbing a hold of your phone and bringing it to your bleary eyes.

The culprit that was blowing up your phone was a group chat. You tapped in and saw there were messages of some friends trying to comfort you, some vowing to avenge you, some insulting Li Zeyan, and some calling for everyone to remain calm and not jump to conclusions.

You stared, bemused, until you finally tapped out a question.

"?"

There was a pause in the scrolling chat before it exploded even more violently. Finally, someone had the mind to link an article to you, all the while urging you to keep calm and stating there must be a reasonable explanation behind this.

You opened the article, read the headline, and looked at the picture.

Then you laughed. Hard.

The arm around your waist pulled you back into a bare chest and Li Zeyan kissed your ear lazily. His husky voice rumbled against your back, "What are you so noisy for in the morning?"

Still shaking with your laughs, you turned around and splayed your hand on his chest, widening your eyes for exaggeration. "Tsk, CEO Li, you sure have some guts to have a dalliance outside and then come home at night to climb into our bed."

The beat of his heart remained steady underneath your hand and his body was relaxed, but you could see the beginnings of a confused furrow appearing between his brows and so you handed him your phone.

His eyes, which had been soft with drowsiness, sharpened as he took in the article that was displayed. The stony look on his face only increased as he backed out of that page and saw the messages in your group chat. Even the pressure around him seemed to drop by two degrees. Finally, he opened your contacts and dialed his assistant, Wei Qian.

"Hello?" Wei Qian clearly sounded confused to receive a call from you in the morning.

"Wei Qian," you heard Wei Qian snap to attention upon hearing his boss' low and deadly voice, "I expect the PR and Legal Department to deal with everything before I arrive at the office today."

He ended the call like that and returned your phone to you before pinching the bridge of his nose. You put your phone back on the side table and laughed some more until he pulled you on top of him and squeezed you against him.

"Think that's funny, do you?" He growled before giving you a punishing kiss.

"Who was it who said no one would dare write a scandal about you?" You breathlessly reminded him after he released you.

Li Zeyan exhaled long and hard before he shifted you off of him and sat up. "I'll see you at Souvenir tonight."

Despite his grumpy words and mood, he kissed you lightly on the lips, lingering, and then got out of bed to head to the bathroom to get ready. You flopped back onto the pillows and sheets that smelled of him and snickered at the memory of the article that had mistaken you last night as another woman that Li Zeyan was having an affair with.

[thefanficmonster]

Icy Fairytale

Boyinaband (Dave Brown) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Falling in love is walking on thin ice in and of itself, but what happens when it's literal? Yeah that's right - two ambitious individuals fall head over heels for one another on the delicate icy ground of a Brighton ice skating rink.

Requested by @onceuponadie Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I'm so sorry for the long wait but I still hope you find the time to enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

No matter how hard I try, I can't tie the laces of my skates properly. I can't tell what's wrong with me today but I know something's seriously not right. To be perfectly honest though, I might have an idea or two as to why this is happening to me but I'd rather keep my mouth shut on the subject to avoid the intense blush and the flock of butterflies that will inevitably attack my stomach. And I can't have that many distractions while I'm on the ice.

Oh who am I kidding, my main distraction is always there, either in front of me or by my side. Sometimes even holding onto me for support.

Dave Brown is the name of it.

The name I was completely indifferent to when it was first brought to my attention.

It was a cold rainy day in Brighton, the town I was still on-the-fence about at the time. My trainer had been wanting to collaborate with a trainer from the UK for a while and had finally scheduled and arranged for the two of us to be able to fly out there and meet with him. I thought my trainer was ambitious, but this this new guy was a whole new level of ambitious. I could tell right away he'd be hard to please and I had no issue with that - I am and I always have been a goal-getter; I myself am hard to please and I've often been called an 'obsessed artist' by my trainer so I was beyond excited for this new extraordinary and challenging journey.

I just didn't know that the challenging part wouldn't be the skating.

After a particularly long practice session, once I was finally left alone by my trainers, I stuck around at the skating rink to wind down and feel the freedom of skating how I want and how I know I'm supposed to. Free like a bird gliding through the sky, not bound by any choreography or anyone's rules and opinions. That's when I'm most myself.

And that's when I met him.

The rink was closed and suppose to be reserved for only me and my coaches for the day but him and his friends - now my friend too - Joel probably didn't think much of the notice on the door considering they had waltzed in with zero idea the vicinity was booked.

I was too entranced in my own world to notice their presence by the seats. I only took notice of the fact I wasn't alone when Joel called out to me.

"Are we interrupting? Is this a private session or something? We can leave, sorry for bothering you."

While the other boy was talking, Dave remained silent, blending into the background and not drawing any of my attention to him. And yes, maybe I was supposed to turn them back, tell them to leave and whatnot, but I did the exact opposite.

"Private session's over, you can stick around, it's not a problem." I said, slowly gliding over to the entrance of the rink where the boys were now standing after they finished climbing down the stairs to approach the ice rink.

I stopped in my tracks rather abruptly as to not crash into them, stabilizing myself before offering them my hand for a handshake. "I'm Y/N. Professional figure skater."

I couldn't help but let out a little giggle when their jaws went loose, hanging open in surprise. They were quick to regain their composure, Joel being the one to accept my hand first, followed by Dave, both of them introducing themselves as they did so.

"Cool streak." I casually pointed at the red streak in Dave's hair, "I've always wanted to dye my hair but I'm not allowed to by my trainer."

He scoffed at my remark, "Your trainer? He's got the audacity to boss you around? Does he not realize how lucky he is to have a skater like you to his name?"

I was understandably taken aback by this compliment. I'm used to being given compliments after my performances in competitions, but I've never considered my unchoreographed skating as anything more than mediocre. It was surprising to receive such a positive remark, heartwarming nonetheless though.

"That's so kind of you to say, Dave, thanks." I'm still a long way from knowing how to properly respond to compliments - mostly cause I don't believe them - but I'd like to think I handled that one well. No, I know I handled it well considering Dave, Joel and I have been friends ever since.

As to why they were at the skating rink that day - they wanted to fulfill a New Year's resolution they had made at the start of the year: learning how to ice skate because apparently they were hopeless at it. And yes, they were - they got on the ice with me that day and were dropping like flies. I considered it a miracle if they were even able to get off their asses on their own. I had to pull them up a couple of times - a gesture they paid me back for with lunch afterwards. Following that day, only Dave remained determined to make his resolution count and he kept coming to the ice rink to practice (read: fall and get back up) and learn with my help of course. It's safe to say I've never laughed so much in such a short period of time and never have I ever established a friendship so quickly with anyone ever. I guess being someone's ice skating buddy is a whole different level of a friendship where the rules of a regular friendship don't apply.

I soon came to realize why that was...

Because I suddenly found myself wanting more than a friendship with Dave. It's ridiculous as hell, as all goddamn hell, but I couldn't and still can't help myself. It's these little subtle signs that shine through my behavior, all completely unintentional. The lingering hold meant to keep him stable on his skates. The firm eye contact when I'm trying to get him to focus on his balance. The little touches and hugs all gestures meant to congratulate him on his little wins like falling and managing to get to his feet on his own; managing to make three solid strides without sprawling out on the ice, etc. I must be the worst ice skating instructor ever - as Dave gained more balance and needed my assistance less, I found myself missing the times I literally had to hold him up, his arms wrapped around me and mine around him. I miss the times he held my hand to avoid falling and still fell, sometimes dragging me down with him.

And I'm only gonna miss those times even more after tomorrow because after tomorrow, I'll no longer be in the UK and I'll no longer be there to see Dave's successes and fails. I'll no longer have him be my distraction, the only distraction I've ever approved of and wanted around. I'll no longer have a chance to feed into the temptation of telling Dave what I feel for him. It's a temptation and a fear and excites me just as much as it terrifies me, paralyzes me just thinking of the outcome, especially when I know I won't get my feelings reciprocated. I won't get anything better than a soft rejection from him yet I still want to come clean.

Why, you might be asking - well, it's rather simple, actually. I think he deserves to know how special he's made these last few months. How much he's made me fall in love with this city and the UK as a whole. How much I enjoyed our adventures both on and off the ice. How much fun I had going sightseeing with him as my tour guide.

How much I enjoyed his company and how hard I fell for him in the process.

Today's the last day of 'class' for the both of us but I just so happen to be the only one who's aware of it. Yeah, I've been one hell of a coward and never brought up my inevitable departure despite having been informed over a week ago. Exactly, I had a week to come clean about more things than one, but I chose silence.

And boy did that bad decision come to hit me against the back of the head like a boomerang. A mocking and particularly painful one at that.

Get it together, Y/N. One of these news you'll have to tell him, he has to know you're leaving. And the other...

"Sorry I'm late!" The familiar voice coming in a breathy yell from somewhere in the darkness surrounding the seats awakens me and frees me from my mind's battle with itself. "The rain only makes traffic worse."

Now or never. Don't drag it out and keep adding salt to the wound!

"I'm leaving!" I say, loud enough to be heard clearly despite our distance. Also loud enough to cover up the tremble in my voice. It took a lot of power just to say that one sentence, I wonder how I'm gonna power through having to explain it to him.

"Jeez, did I upset you that badly?" Dave surprises the hell out of me when he steps on the ice, already in his skates which I didn't even notice him put on. I'm not surprised by that to be honest, I'm too caught up in my own thoughts and how I'm displaying them in my demeanor to notice my surroundings.

"N-no, I..." so much for covering up that tremble in my voice, "I have to leave the UK...tomorrow...I'm going back home for a competition and to, you know, get ready for the Olympics...I don't know when or if I'll be back but I was hoping..."

"What? When'd you hear about this? Why so suddenly? Is it that big of an emergency that they inform you literally five minutes in advance?" There are enough emotions in his voice to prevent me from looking at his face, especially his eyes. I'm afraid of what kind of hurt or whatever other emotion I might see there.

I bite the inside of my cheek, "My trainer told me last week...", I admit, gritting my teeth and cringing as my stomach ties itself is several knots that are causing me great discomfort.

There's a pause which I'm assuming is meant for him to collect all his thoughts and properly process them. I'm afraid of what he'll say when he does.

"So I'm the one finding out five minutes before your departure?" He finally asks, the tone of voice he uses making my heart sink a little.

Damn it, Dave I already feel guilty enough, this is unnecessary!

No, no, he has a point and has every right to be upset. Friends don't keep friends in the dark about things like this. About any things really.

Then why do you keep him in the dark about literally EVERYTHING?

This is what I was afraid of - getting the temptation of coming clean. I have nothing to lose after all, I'm leaving tomorrow anyway. I'll lose him one way or another.

"Listen, Dave...", I didn't think this through but I'll improvise it, that's a better option than shutting my mouth and not saying another word, "I was gonna tell you, I really wanted to, but I couldn't...I couldn't bring myself to do it. I still don't want to believe that I'm leaving. I love it here and just the thought of leaving it all behind...it hurts, you know. And 'the more people know the realer it is' is a real thing so I didn't want...." I stop, my voice cutting off completely as I find myself weak on balance. Maybe standing in the middle of an ice rink isn't the best setting for this conversation. "I'm being ridiculous and I'm stalling like a coward." I say that more to myself than to him but I don't let him speak. Instead, I continue my rambling after a brief sigh.

Dave, God bless his soul, stays silent and just looks at me with this curious gaze which is letting me know he's holding back for my sanity's sake, allowing me to take a breather and collect my thoughts before I express them to avoid misunderstanding me.

I inhale, finally ready to start talking, "Alright, here we go...Look, I don't want to end this...friendship between us on a bad note but I don't want it to end with there still being secrets between us so I'm gonna finally say what I've been wanting and not wanting to tell you for a while now. It's on you whether it'll be a bad ending to a good story or not, but I just need to get it off my chest, ok?"

He nods, not at all as hesitantly as I thought he would which is relieving to see, so I continue.

"This is gonna sound pathetic and downright laughable but here it goes - I like you, Dave. The kind of like where I see you as more than a friend and sometimes even wish you would see me the same way as well despite being sure you don't. And please, if you plan on pulling a pity act give me a heads up so I can just walk aw-"

My ramble is put to an end when Dave puts his hand up, pointer finger in the air and almost touching my lips as a gesture to shush me. I am typically one of the hardest people to shut up EVER, but now the words die down on their own as if they are even happy to be put to rest at his request.

"Y/N you are the most talented, most graceful, the kindest and most beautiful and smartest person I have ever met and yet you still also happen to be the densest and most ignorant when it comes to the people around you. You're a people pleaser, I've figured out as much, but goddamn it, you rarely know what a person actually wants. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, this could just be the case with me and an inability to show emotion which I haven't known about all this time, but still - if your dense ass hasn't noticed it yet I'll say it out loud for you and if you still find a way to misinterpret it, I'll spell it out for you in huge neon letters, got it?" He makes something barely alike a pause before sighing, "Y/N L/N, the most densest person in this whole word, you've had me star-struck since day one and I've only been falling deeper and harder in love with you ever since. And you don't have even the slightest clue of what happened to me and my heart a couple minutes ago when you said you were leaving. Believe what you wanna, but words have never crushed me harder ever before and trust me, that says a lot. So, before you go and think you have my emotions figured out, remember that I actually know how to skate."

That's A LOT to take in. It's got layers upon layers of questions followed by answers followed by even more questions that I'm not sure I'm prepared to ask or answer.

So he's liked me since the day we met? Love at first sight? Nah, that shit only exists in movies.

He was hurt by that? I hurt him by not telling him then I hurt him by telling him and I'll hurt him the hardest when I leave tomorrow. How am I supposed to not feel responsible for putting so much pain on him without even realizing it?

And wait - he knows how to skate???

"You can skate? Like, you can can skate? Like, you're not a hopeless case like you've made me believe?" I ask, one of my eyebrows shooting up suspiciously.

Dave goes from looking puzzled to cracking up with laughter within a second after hearing my question, "Oh Y/N, you're so adorable. That's what's got you puzzled the most out of all I just said?"

I narrow my eyes at him, folding my arms over my chest defensively, "Well the rest seems pretty cut-and-dry, if you ask me." I say sarcastically, earning another laugh from him.

It's only now that I notice how confidently he's standing on the ice - as though he's standing on solid, non-slippery ground which is far from the image I have of Dave while on ice. The uncertainty, the lack of stability, it's all disappeared from his still demeanor which now makes a lot more sense.

He smirks at me, "Does it now, densey?"

I frown at the nickname, "Don't call me th-"

He doesn't let me finish, instead presses his lips against mine, the contact making me lose balance on my skates. Luckily, he probably calculated this risk in advance cause his arms wrap around me instantly, preventing me from slipping more than an inch.

"Who needs to be held up now?" He asks, pressing his forehead against mine when we pull away from the kiss.

I keep my eyes closed despite the urge to roll them in playful annoyance, "Oh, shut it."

And he does so by pressing his lips against mine once again.

What will happen once I leave, I have not the slightest clue. Hell, I don't even know what'll happen when we pull away permanently and get off the ice we're standing on. But I do know what's happening right now - I'm kissing Dave Brown and nothing's ever felt this right before.

@waterlilypat @iwillboilyourteeth @insanedeathwish @onceuponadie @loraleiix @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @goldenstarofthunderclan @cosmicstorm19 @lam-ila @sra-verissimo @marthebeeduosimp

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 6

Aaaand we're back on the main fic! I am very proud to announce that I managed to fit an AU in here without it being weird (I think). It was really fun to write! Feel free to ask me more about that universe if you feel like it :) Hope you enjoy!

@marichatmay

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

---

Chapter 6: In which we change worlds but it makes sense, I promise

“Princess!”

Marinette stirred in her sleep as she heard the call and the distinct sound of curtains opening. She felt the morning’s soft light warm her face and sighed contently.

“Princess Marinette, you need to wake up! Today’s the day!” The feminine voice called again, closer, this time.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up, feeling her heartbeat quicken with excitement.

“Oh Tikki, you won’t believe how well I slept!” She jumped out of her canopy bed, her white nightdress flowing in her wake as she rushed towards her handmaiden, who stared out of the window. “I really thought I wouldn’t sleep a wink, but really, the herbal tea you gave me worked wonders!"

“I’m glad to hear it! It worked well on Chat Noir, too, apparently. I ran into Plagg, his squire, in the kitchen earlier.”

“Good,” Marinette sighed with relief.

“Come on, now, we need to get you ready!” Tikki took her hand and led her to her dressing table. “How are you feeling about your engagement day?” She asked as she started brushing the princess’ hair.

“Very good. I’m very happy about the outcome of yesterday’s rounds - I know I’m not supposed to have favourites within the contestants but…” Marinette paused, hesitating to say anymore. It wasn’t a matter of trust (she’d known Tikki long enough that the two had become close friends, despite the rank difference); she was just unwilling to criticise the way things were too soon.

“You have every right to be, your Highness. The Joust of Valour explores your suitors’ ability to protect you, but there’s more to marriage than just that. It’s good that you feel comfortable with the two final contestants.” Her handmaiden smiled warmly, starting to braid her hair. “If I may, does your Highness have a soft spot for one contestant in particular? I could pass the message to the relevant people, maybe it would give him some extra luck for today…”

“I don’t, Tikki,” the young lady said firmly. It wasn’t a lie; she’d asked herself who she’d rather see emerge victorious of the tournament as she fell asleep the previous night, but she hadn’t reached a solid conclusion. It was better this way, really. Whatever the outcome, she wouldn’t be disappointed. “Anyway, you said Chat Noir was doing well?...”

Tikki repressed a smile, and told her what she knew.

---

Marinette proudly walked up to her place in the stands, her arm linked to her father’s.

For once, she would be the one sitting front and center of the Royal Balcony, relegating her parents, the King and Queen of the Croissant Kingdom, to the back of the stall with their guest. Neither King Tom or Queen Sabine seemed to mind, though; both were beaming as they waved to the crowd that had travelled for the event. Their cheers lifted the princess’ spirits so much that even the stern figure of King Gabriel of the Butterfly Kingdom failed to make her mood waver. Maybe this was what growing up felt like.

“Mesdames et Messieurs!” The voice of the announcer boomed over the ambient noise. “Welcome to the final round of the Joust of Valour! The joust will soon commence. Sparring for the heart of our beloved Princess Marinette, having victoriously arisen from all their duels, are Prince Adrien from the Butterfly Kingdom, and our local Knight Chat Noir!”

The crowd roared as the two men came forward, leading their horses.

Prince Adrien’s silver armour glistened in the sunlight, and so did his smile as his gaze met hers. Her heart skipped a beat. Her crush on him, which she’d developed during one of their first encounters as children, really hadn’t faded much over the years, despite what her friend, the Duchess Alya, had told her.

On the other hand, Chat Noir’s appearance was a lot starker. His whole armour was black, matte, the whole hint of colour being his forest green spear. There was something radiant about him, though, in the way his tousled blond hair danced in the breeze, in the way his green eyes sparkled with laughter and mischief as he approached the stands, that drew her to him. He’d been at her side for years, valiantly working with her when she’d been taken hostage by one of the Papillon’s sbires. They’d brilliantly defeated him, earning him his knighthood at the age of only fifteen, and a place in her personal guard. Despite her father’s warnings that Marinette shouldn’t meddle with the Papillon’s affairs, Chat Noir still managed to get her involved. They were a team.

“I hope I’ll be up to the challenge, dearest Marinette,” Adrien squeezed the hand she presented to him; she squeezed it back and smiled as she watched him head towards his noble steed.

“My Lady Princess,” Chat Noir bowed reverently before her, “please accept this rose as a token of my affection.” He pulled a pink rose out of seemingly thin air and presented it to her. The crowd gasped delightedly. Then, delicately taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of it with a wink; Marinette felt herself blush.

“Thank you, Chat Noir,” she barely managed to enunciate.

He bowed again, and went to ready himself.

Marinette looked at the rose, and noticed there was a piece of paper wrapped around the stem, maintained by a thorn. She made the most of everybody’s attention on the contestants to unravel it.

My dearest Lady Princess,

I’m sorry.

Love you always, CN

“Princess Marinette will now announce the beginning of the joust!” The announcer declared, startling her as she tried to understand what Chat Noir had meant by his message. She rapidly shoved it in her pocket and stood up uneasily, hoping all the eyes trained on her wouldn’t detect her fluster.

“Best of luck, gentlemen! May the best man win!”

The two horses set off towards each other, spurred on by their riders. The contestants’ spears crashed against each other’s shield, unsettling them a little. Both knights trotted to the end of the track and prepared to set off again.

The crowd oohed and aahed during the next rounds, both men barely wavering at the other’s assaults. Marinette held her breath each time, anxiously awaiting the outcome, only to let out a relieved sigh when neither fell.

Then, as the two men were about to set off again for the thirteenth time, Marinette saw Chat Noir’s helmet turn briefly towards her, and she felt her stomach drop. She didn’t need to see his face to know what was about to happen. The rose slipped out from her fingers as she realised what the note had meant.

As the knight and the prince came up to each other at full speed, Prince Adrien’s jousting spear collided violently with Chat Noir’s chest, and the latter fell to the ground with a deafening clank .

The crowd erupted in clamour as Adrien started to tour the track at a low trot, a victorious smile on his lips. Finally reaching the royal stand, he elegantly jumped off and extended a hand towards her.

“I’m truly honoured to be your future husband, your Royal Highness.”

He kissed her hand before guiding her out of the stand and helped her up to ride his horse with him. She smiled the whole time, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Those were looking for Chat Noir.

---

In the middle of the boisterous banquet, Marinette felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore. She had to get out of the hall, before her plastered smile broke, and she exposed her true feelings.

She excused herself, reassuring Prince Adrien that it must have been her prolonged time in the sun and her unusual mead consumption, and made her way to her quarters.

There, she rapidly grabbed a cloak from her trunk and sneaked out, head hung low until she’d exited the castle’s gates.

She started running. Her legs carried her as her mind raced, as her tear-ducts gave way to her tears.

She hadn’t thought the joust’s outcome would mean so much to her. She thought she’d be happy, whatever happened on the track. But as much as she’d dreamed of this match… It just didn’t feel right.

She tripped and fell to her knees, out of breath, and recognised her surroundings. The clearing had been where Chat and her had been taken hostage, and where Chat took her to practise fencing when he knew no one was looking.

A rustling sound startled her and she put her hands up defensively, although she didn’t feel like getting up.

“Hi, Princess,” Chat Noir emerged from the trees, carrying a bag. “I couldn’t find you in your room, but I figured you’d be here.”

“You had no right to sacrifice yourself like that,” she sobbed, her hands dropping to her knees.

“You know you’ll be much happier with Prince Adrien, Princess.” He smiled sadly. “You two are meant to be - you’d already be betrothed to him, were it not for the Kingdom’s Joust of Valour.”

“You don’t know what would make me happier,” she angrily wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You know I’d do anything for you, my Marinette.” He rushed to her side and cupped her cheek.

“Then run away with me.” She looked straight into his eyes.

“Why?” He whispered, his face inching closer to hers.

“Because Prince Adrien might have my hand…” She started, her breath hitching as she computed their proximity. “... But you have my heart.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she closed the distance between them and…

BIP-BIP-BIP-BIP

Marinette woke up with a start as her alarm clock started blaring. Her heart raced in her chest at the already fleeting memory of her dream. She caught her disappointment at not having witnessed the outcome, and covered her face with her hands. She felt like she was burning up.

She was so confused. The dream had been so out of place. So unexpected. What did it mean? She didn’t love Chat Noir! And she definitely didn’t want to run away with him. How absurd.

She only had a week to hold out for, she thought as she got dressed. It wouldn’t come soon enough.

She didn't know if her heart would survive another trick of her brain.

[chrysalizzm]

Do you have fic recs or head canons? please ramble for paragraphs im bored and looking for something to read.

oh boy do i have some fic recs for you (and everyone who sees this), my friend! this one is quite long because there are a lot of fics i like and this isn’t all of them, so if you’d like more, you can check out my bookmarks page ^^

The Run and Go by Numanum 

“That’s not fair,” Bad protests. Dream raises an eyebrow at him and jerks his tied hands in emphasis, clearly saying that none of this is fair.

“Look, you keep running! Who runs if they’re not guilty?” Bad challenges, staring him down with obvious distrust from the generous distance of exactly five feet. It’s fair, as much as Dream hates to admit it; it’s not like he’s been the most honest hostage in the past, with all of his escaping and running and framing himself for his own murder, apparently.

“Only the good die young, and only the guilty run,” Technoblade chimes in, holding his own potato and sitting in the snow like it’s not cold at all.

A hot flash of irritation burns through him.

“Someone being chased?” he counters sarcastically, jerking his tied wrists up again to wave them in front of the group. Sapnap laughs so hard that he almost chokes on his potato, but it dies off when Dream gives him an icy stare.

Or: Dream is having a hard time, and the hunter just want to adopt him like a stray puppy that bites you at every opportunity.

multi-chapter, ongoing.

a manhunt with plot-style fic! exquisitely written, visceral in the emotions it evokes. it’s the kind of fic that makes me feel all shaky with anticipation, the kind that i have a physical reaction to; you can’t put it down.

pain. all-consuming pain. this one feels bad, man

and as he fell (you walked away) by Teahound

Once upon a time, there were three hunters.

They were good at what they did. If you wanted something-- or better yet, someone-- found, discovered, or destroyed, they were the people you asked. They didn’t have much to their name, besides a formidable reputation, but they were a team, and that was enough for them.

Once upon a time, there was a king in the forest.

He wore a mask, but it didn’t matter. That deep in the forest, in a hidden fortress, buried behind leaves and monsters and broken stone, no one could see his face anyway. He had been there a very long time, and he was alone.

Being a king can be a very lonely thing. So one day, the king left the fortress.

A Minecraft manhunt AU, with a fantasy twist. Dream is a cryptid, and Hunters are idiots.

multi-chapter (11), complete.

tea’s fic!! a manhunt-with-plot fic, featuring a forest spirit dream and circumstantial hunters and friendships that feel both intensely real and desperately melancholy because they can’t last.

or can they?

The Real World by Cinammonzoa and Fire_Fly464

"Ten, paces fire!"

Time stopped.

Tommy’s entire body went numb. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but his body was determined to keep him silent. His vision went dark, and he could no longer feel his headphones over his ears. The mouse in his hand. The slight breeze of his ceiling fan. For a few seconds, he couldn’t feel anything.

His senses came back to him all at once. The first thing Tommy noticed was the weight in his right hand -- a bow. His nostrils stung with the lingering scent of gunpowder. In front of him was a masked figure. Their right arm was bent, their elbow by their face. In their left hand was a bow, aiming directly at--

~~~

Aka Dream and Tommy get transported into the SMP world and have no idea what the fuck is happening

multi-chapter (23), complete

you’ve probably seen this one if you haunt the video blogging rpf/minecraft tags of ao3 often! an irl!dream and tommy replace their smp counterparts type of beat, very upbeat in dynamic and fun to keep pace with, great read.

staying alive (though the city is dead) by Alice_Not_In_Wonderland

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Schlatt smirks, his words lilting, almost song-like. His eyes seem to glow brighter. "Tell me, Dream, when did you realize that you could talk and talk and talk and no one would ever believe you?"

---

or: if dream's damned to be a villain in every story he's in, then he's going to show them exactly how much of one he can be

one-shot, complete.

the gratuitous greek mythology references are truly everything and this fic is such a good dissection of dream and schlatt’s motivations and how their goals intersect, and dream’s likening to cassandra really hits different 

Green & Gold by HognoseSnake

George’s legs ached.

His lungs felt tight and too small.

His breath was loud in his ears.

His pack bounced uncomfortably on his shoulders.

George, homeless and adrift, is an outlaw of the Mad King's reign. He'd spent the last two months being hunted across the wilderness at the fringe of society by a ruthless killer in a smiling mask and bright green coat. This, he understood.

What he didn't understand is why such a ruthless killer kept letting him go.

multi-chapter (8), complete. sequel ongoing.

a breathtaking pseudo-manhunt-with-plot fic, with george and dream running from a kingdom that wants them dead for perceived transgressions. this shit hurted, and the sequel hurts even worse ;-; snake please i beg

We’re Only Young series by ImperialKatwala

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

collection of both one-shots and ongoing multi-chapter fics.

((bangs on table)) please read this series it is dream and techno friendship fics that alternate between lighthearted and heartwrenchingly comforting and imperialkatwala’s characterisation of them and their respective groups of family and friends is so frickin’ good i read this series when i’m not having a good day and it never fails to make me crack a smile

kept promises and old ruins and names carved into stone by verecundiam

"Would you... would you want to stay here?" Bad wrings his hands, looking away. "Like, like actually stay? I know it's not, ah, not exactly comfortable, or all that homey, but I don't want you two to get hurt out there on your own, and I just... I think maybe you could stay? If you want?"

"That sounds nice," Sapnap says, because it does.

(Or: How four kids managed to build a family, against all odds.)

one-shot, complete.

muffinteers found family that makes me want to go to the smp writers and beg it to be made canon. unbelievably soft yet excellent at parsing out the younger counterparts of the four and creating backgrounds that feasibly form them into the people they grow up to be.

in the age of icons by BananasofThorns

“Yeah, keep digging,” Tommy crows.

The pickaxe hesitates on the downswing. The air shifts; Dream’s aura bursts into visibility, brilliant green and jagged. Ozone hums on Techno’s tongue and Bad stutters in the middle of his sentence. Up on the wall, silhouetted by the sun, Dream stands frozen and furious.

L'manberg messes with something it shouldn't. Techno watches the repercussions and tries not to laugh.

one-shot, complete.

i love deity aus (figures, i wrote one myself akjdfh), and this one hits. there’s something exquisitely delicate about how dream and the repercussions his godhood both on himself and on the people who are exposed to him in that moment of unbridled rage.

that's how we keep going (we make the best of things) by lieyuu

[ i can’t decide if this is heaven or hell. the walls keep closing in and we’re running out of space, but you’re pretty cute ]

“So, do you want to build a flower shop, a cottage, or a coffee shop?” Puffy asks, smiling like just Niki’s presence is enough to light up her world.

Niki looks at her, thinks, I want to bend nature to my will and weave tapestries in your name, says, “I think I might like the flower shop best.”

one-shot, complete.

a niki/puffy fic that crushed me in its hands in just six hundred words.  the delicate love and wonder and beauty of this fic killed me softly and i welcomed it. it’s girls in love rendered by lieyuu’s masterful hand, what more could you want

i need it to be known that as i was typing up my thoughts midnight love by girl in red started playing from my playlist if that’s not a shining endorsement i don’t know what is

did i ruin the moment? by itisjosh

Ranboo drags himself through the snow, burn wounds going up and down his body. His suit is crumpled, half of it discarded as he crawls along the ground. His eyes are firmly pressed shut, and he refuses to open them, just in case he sees him, Dream, again. Ranboo sobs as the snow melts on his skin, the water scalding him as it trickles down his arms and chest.

one-shot, complete.

it’s character death, i do need to put it out there because it felt like i was punched in the stomach at the end even though i knew. josh knows exactly how to drag his readers kicking and screaming into angst hell, as always - a ranboo is rescued by phil fic wherein ranboo ends up convincing himself that the only reason for his presence in the nearly-empty anarchist commune is because phil sees him as a placeholder for his sons ;-; pain

Frame The Halves, And Call Them Brothers by MusicallyActive

"Let's go!" Quackity roared. "Let's fucking go!"

The anvil dropped, and Techno reached for his totem of undying. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

Phil screamed something, and instantly a crushing force struck Technoblade's skull. It rattled him to the core, doused his vision in red, and then all he knew was black.

He gasped awake moments later to the sound of his communicator pinging softly at his bedside table, and when Technoblade opened his eyes, New L'manburg was nowhere in sight.

one-shot, complete.

a techno timeloop fic that shows off the unintentional cruelty of the children who run l’manberg and techno’s own inability to allow the people he tries so hard not to love to come to harm. techno’s rendered in painstaking detail; this one was cathartic in the best way.

on i go (move to move) by Aenqa

If you ask someone whether they’ve ever experienced real, severe physical pain, you’ll learn a lot from their response.

Techno knows what it means to be in pain. He’s accepted it as a necessary consequence of keeping his family safe. But when the pain he's experiencing starts to become too much to bear alone, it takes his family to show him what it might mean to feel better.

one-shot, complete.

chronic pain fic featuring sbi!! it’s really good - aenqa wrote chronic pain well, and incorporated respawn mechanics into it well, and the dynamic between sbi is impeccable.

Yellow and Blue and- by nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)

It’s another gorgeous day in New L’Manberg. Tubbo’s stilted streets of deep toned spruce and honey-touched oaks are warm under his feet from the sun, and a sign and a small banner proclaim the country’s name in front of his face. Wilbur is so happy to let the ‘L’ roll of his tongue as he says it, ‘Manberg’ was harsh and too guttural, but the two extra syllables make it something that could fit on a melody, a four-note beat he could set the pace of his unbeating heart to.

The citizens of New L’Manberg track him with cautious eyes at first, until Tubbo changes his eyes to slightly sad ones, listening along to Wilbur’s rambles, warming up to the truly soot-grey sight of his face and sunshine yellow of his ever-present sweater. The rest of the population soon follow, laughing at Wilbur’s strange innocence and telling him what he’s done with only a little bit of spite in a pitying mask and fixing their mouths in a line when he suddenly forgets what he’s doing or stares into space or laughs at nothing.

But all the people who get sad when Wilbur starts laughing after shock-still silence are dumb.

Because Wilbur’s not laughing at nothing.

one-shot, complete.

a ghostbur fic from quite early on! it includes references to wilbur and schlatt’s older videos/smp experiences and has a super interesting take on the nature of wilbur’s amnesia i enjoyed this fic a lot ^^

east of eden series by subwaywalls

Philza protects his home.

(An angel with a singing blade of fire guards the gates to paradise.)

two one-shots, one ongoing multi-chapter fic.

READ IT READ IT READ IT. the eoe series is exquisite in both content and presentation, centering around sbi and the powers they all respectively have but also bringing in people like grian and dream, and subwaywalls is a master of packaging her words ever so delicately to create an experience that is ethereal.

[celestiababie]

Too Much Love- Jaehyun/Yoonoh (m/a)

Genre: angst with suggestive noncon themes, stalker!jaehyun au, college!au, jae is pretty much just a pervy creep, no actual smut sorry

Pairings: jaehyun/yoonoh x reader

Warnings: Stalking, breaking in, knives, illegal themes, reader is dumb lowkey, jaehyun producing a lot of precum lol

Word count: 1,273

A/N: I do NOT condone the things in this fic in real life, this is simply fantasy. I also do not believe Jaehyun would ever actually do something like this. I do not mean to offend anyone with my content and I myself am a victim of sexual abuse so trust me when I say I AM NOT TRYING TO GLAMORIZE IT. THIS IS SIMPLY FICTION. With that being said, please enjoy. I will most likely make a part two.

He bit his rose-tinted bottom lip as he tries to keep his breathing steady. You look gorgeous, like a dainty angel who had descended from heaven, landing on Earth just for him. Your smooth skin caused his mouth to water in need. Mouth salivating from the intense yearning to taste and touch you. His deep brown eyes were dilated, a clear indication of his infatuation with you.

How couldn't you recognize his emotions each time he looked at you? Why couldn't you sense the love he had for you? 

The two of you attended the same university, were in the same social circle, and yet you barely batted an eye to him. Why won't she fucking love me? He thinks to himself. Even he could hear the bitter tone in his head. 

Why can't she see that we're meant for each other? 

Nearly a year ago is when it all began, when his life changed, and unknowingly, yours did as well.

His glove covered hand gripped the handle of the knife he held tightly as flashes of memories hit him. Too many times, he had stood in this very spot behind the large bushes outside of your bedroom. The crisp breeze brushed upon his skin, his eyes fluttered shut from the relaxing sensation. He wondered if your touch would be as calming. He quivered at the thought of your soft hands touching his skin, the tip of his shaft leaking pre-cum at the mere thought. 

You were gonna love him, he knew it. You simply required some... guidance. That's all you needed.

His eyes shut momentarily, the pounding of his heart filling his ears. This is it.  He opened his eyes after a minute and watched as you peacefully slept, the midnight colored silk nightdress with lace accents hiking up on your legs, your chest subtly rising and falling with every slow, delicate breath. It was as if you knew tonight was special, why else you wear his personal favorite? 

He drew a mask over his head before exiting from the bushes, shuffling closer to your window. He mentally threw his fist into the air when he had arrived before and noticed that your window was wide open, probably to allow the cool breeze into your room, but it was making his job so much easier. He discreetly lifted the window screen, making sure to not make a single noise. He didn't want you to wake up quite yet.

He climbed through your window, finding it somewhat challenging due to his broad stature. He bit his lip as both of his feet set down on the hardwood floor of your bedroom, more pre-cum leaking out of him and soaking through his boxers. His breath hitched, and he took a minute to try and calm himself down. He had fantasized about being in your room more times than he could count. His eyes gazed at your sleeping figure, his body moved without thinking. He stood over you at the edge of your queen-sized mattress and took the liberty of lightly grazing your skin with the blade of the sharp, shiny point of the knife in his hand. You shuddered at the coldness of the blade, turning in your sleep, your behind now facing him. He let out a hushed moan as his eyes peered down to the slight exposure of the panties you were wearing. The sight of the innocent baby pink underwear was enough for him to feel bolder. 

He reached over you, placed his large hand over your mouth while pressing the blade up to the side of your throat. Your eyes abruptly opened, your entire body was filled with intense fear. You let out a shriek that was hindered by his gloved fingers and attempted to move away. He climbed on top of you and placed his head close to your ear. Tears streamed out of your eyes as you felt the weight of the man on top of you, his heavy breathing making your ear feel hot. 

I'm gonna die, he's gonna kill me, you chanted in your head. You sobbed as if your life depended on it, tears making your cheeks and eyelashes wet. 

 As if he could hear your thoughts, the unknown man spoke up, the sudden sound instilling your body with even more panic. "I swear I'm not gonna harm you, I don't want to hurt you, Y/N." The man's voice was deep and smooth...there was something familiar about it, but the fear kept you from thinking about it too much. You let out a sob and shook your head rapidly to show your discomfort, wanting nothing more but for the man to leave you alone. How does he know my name? You thought to yourself.

"This isn't how you're supposed to be acting... I'm not going to hurt you, I swear."  His words confused you, but his voice confused you even further. God, you knew you heard that voice somewhere- but how? It's as if a lightbulb lit inside your head, your body suddenly still at the realization. Tears were still leaking from your eyes, but you couldn't move, your frame filled with shock. 

Could it be? 

 You tried to say something against his gloved hand, and he heard you mumble something against his glove and tilted his head, not being able to make out what you said. He hesitantly pulled his hand away from your mouth, overwrought of you possibly screaming.

With wide, bloodshot eyes, you turned your head as best as you could and stuttered, "J-Jaehyun?"

His body tensed, from you saying his name. You knew him? You actually knew him? He felt more pre-cum leak out of his tip, the sound of you saying his name, clouding his head with pleasure. Hearing you say it sounded even more magical than he ever imagined. He came to his senses, and his eyes widened, realizing that you knew who he was...you knew it was him on top of you. He mentally cursed at himself, pressing the knife further against your soft skin.

"Shut up. I don't k-know what you're talking about." He closed his eyes tightly at the slight stutter in his voice, hoping you didn't catch it, but you did. 

"Jaehyun, I know it's you... W-why are you here? Why are you doing this?" You spoke in a rushed voice, distraught that someone you thought was so warm and kind would so something so cruel. His breath shook as he felt his anxiety rising the more you spoke. He shouldn't have come here, he shouldn't have broke in... He shouldn't be on top of you. 

Jaehyun suddenly got off of you in a hurry, rushing out of your window as fast as possible, leaving you confused and scared. 

"What just happened?" You whispered to yourself. You looked over at your phone sitting on your bedside table, but your fingers never reached for it. After a few moments of silence, you finally reached for your phone, but not to call 911. 

You opened your messaged and texted a friend from your photography class...you knew you should call the cops, so why aren't you? Your hands shook while you typed, still filled with fear from what just happened.

[Sent at 2:01am] Hey I know this is random

[Sent at 2:02am] But could you give me Jaehyun's number 

Johnny: lol

Johnny: Did you finally realize the dude has a crush on you???

Johnny: Here xxxxxxxxx

You stared at your phone for a few minutes, eyes wide as you reread it over and over, but you just couldn't wrap your hands around it.

[Sent at 2:07am] A crush?

[bentforkent]

earth-shattering, red roses

penelope garcia x gender neutral!reader

a/n: here is my very hesitant, very obscure, and very late submission for @veraiconcos​ fic challenge. is there a market for penelope x reader fics? dunno, but there should be. penelope rights. 

tagging sweet @gaystevie​ 

content warnings: none - this is half fluff, half angst :) 

word count: 1842

in which you’re penelope’s online friend and she develops a crush on you. 

“and then i just,” penelope pauses to hold up a pair of campy earrings to the camera, “pick out some earrings, and i’m good to go!” after putting the jewelry on, she turns her face to model. her hair is pulled back into a bun, adorned with some fluffy hot pink hair accessory. 

“looks cute, pen,” you muse, watching her pose on your tiny phone screen. penelope looks at you with a wide smile. there’s a piece of your hair sticking up and out of place, and she desperately wants to reach out and smooth it out. her thumb twitches.

 “alright my sweet soulmate,” she starts with a smile. you know what’s coming.  “it’s time for me to head to work.” 

you pout at her pixelated face. “already?”

“unfortunately, dear,” she says, but despite feeling reluctant to hang up, her words come out as cheery as ever. 

“alright, penny. have fun at work,” you say, and as soon as she acknowledges your farewell and offers her own, the screen goes black with nothing but a tri-tone to signal the end of the call. 

 you and penelope met seven months ago on some new, groundbreaking virtual world game. penelope’s character was a fairy, with wings that glowed so much she had to have paid extra to have them. (she hadn’t. she just hacked into the fairly new and easy-to-bypass code and given her character the virtual wardrobe of her dreams.) she made a point to keep true to herself, even through her tiny computer alter-ego.

 the two of you often floated in the same circles as you played the game. you were funny, always typing something witty into the chat, and she quickly found herself very fond of you. she let her fingers hover over her keyboard before typing out her first message to you. after the whole “fisher king” fiasco, she respectfully refrained from contacting people on the internet, resigning herself to admiring from afar. but you were different. you had interacted with penelope already, exchanging compliments and working together to solve quests in the game. you knew her, and she knew you, but direct message felt like a new realm. it felt...intimate. 

when you replied to her first message, a simple “hi penelope!” with a butterfly emoji attached for good measure, penelope nearly flew out of her desk chair; she was so excited.  she quickly typed back to you, punctuating with approximately two million exclamation points and a link to her own personal social media. you smiled widely to yourself watching penelope’s chat appear on your computer screen. 

over the next months, you and penelope had become practically inseparable. well...virtually, at least. you lived much too far from penelope, and penelope much too far from you.  your distance spanned one timezone and a handful of states, but with how often you two talked, you always felt close. you learned her favorite color, her favorite movie, her favorite tv shows. she learned your guilty pleasure snack, your nighttime routine, and your favorite song to drive to. after 12am, you’d whisper into the phone receiver about your day, telling her about everything that bothered you or brought you joy. penelope revelled in these chats. listening to you was the best part of her day. this was your friendship, and it was good. 

 but recently things had been ever-so-slightly different. penelope lingers on a phone call even though she is exhausted, just to hear your voice. she proof-reads her text messages multiple times before sending them out--who does that? the red heart emoji is fast becoming her most used, taking the place of the pink one. the pink one is platonic, it’s always been platonic, and the red one is romantic. how is this happening? often, penelope lies in bed, imagining you’re laying against each other with your hands entangled. she reaches and rests her hand on the other side of the bed, where you would lie if you were there. sometimes, when she’s really tired, she believes she can feel you.

when thinking about this, penelope’s chest feels tight in the most exhilarating way. she’s confused, naturally. the last time she felt this way was when she thought she had real feelings for derek. (she’d buried whatever feeling that was way deep down in the depths of her brain.)

 could it be love if you had never touched? no. no, penelope is a romantic, but she’s also a realist. this can’t be love, not yet. but...a crush. the realization of the word seeps into her bloodstream, setting each cell in her body on fire. it’s a nice fire, a warm fire, a fire that flickers in pink flames. penelope spins around a few times in her work desk chair. 

gee, how lucky is she that she’s got her own little cave here? no one to interrupt her private moment of reckoning...although, now that she thinks of it, it’s not much of a “moment” from the outside. it’s not like her cheeks are stained red and there’s a sign on her forehead that reads “i have a crush!” any one of her coworkers could walk in right now and have no clue anything is any different. (penelope forgets that she’s terrible at hiding things and that she works with trained behavioral profilers.) she pauses a minute, staring at the door, half-expecting hotch to walk in and chew her out for not looking up white males in nebraska, or something. 

 penelope smoothly rolls her chair over to where her cell phone rests. she really shouldn’t be making a personal call at work, she thinks, but she also really shouldn’t have hacked into reid’s work computer and changed everything in english into tagalog last week. penelope can’t remember the last time she genuinely cared about the FBI’s rules. (in her defense, it took spencer like--half of a second to figure out what the unfamiliar language was, and a whole work day to understand it. she was teaching him!) 

 she picks up the phone, grinning as she swipes through recent text notifications of you updating penelope on your day. she finds the “call” button quickly, and waits as it begins to ring.

“penelope?” you question upon answering. “i’m at work, i can’t really talk right now.” you sound happy, despite the intrusion penelope knows she’s providing.

 “no, i know,” penelope replies, twirling a pen in her free hand. she taps her foot quickly. “which is why i’ll make this super quick.” she drags out the word ‘super’ like it tastes like candy.  “i have a crush on you. an earth-shattering, red roses, big crush on you.”

“oh,” you gasp, surprised. “oh! yeah!” you shake your head quickly, as if trying to wake yourself from a dream. all penelope can hear on the other line is the swooshing of air. “yeah, penny, me too. definitely me too. by that i mean, i have a crush on you too.” you’re stumbling, tripping over the words in your haste to get them out, but neither one of you seem to notice. all you can tell is the grin on your face is starting to hurt your cheeks, and all penelope can tell is that if she pulls her knees any closer to her chest she might squish herself. 

 “okay, cool,” penelope says through a smile. 

 you give a breathy laugh. “i really do have to go, though. i’ll definitely talk to you later, though. bye, penny,” you say, and hang up before giving penelope the chance to quip a witty goodbye. 

 you like her back, penelope thinks, the harps playing in her head making her feel like a juvenile pining after someone on the playground. her stomach flutters. the angelic voices in her head are singing, something that sounds like a warbled, choral version of “i wanna dance with somebody” by whitney houston. she closes her eyes, and relishes in it. 

after a second, the stark silence in penelope’s office startles her into reality. 

what is this?

what is she doing?

 oh, fuck, she thinks. tears well in her eyes. what is she doing? this is so unrealistic, penelope thinks, berating herself. you’re far away, only connected to her through a phone screen. it’s a great sentiment to have this sweet crush, yeah, but it’s not practical. not real. it’s not like penelope would ever be in a position to pack up and fly to you, and after hearing you gush about your job just the night prior, she knows you certainly feel the same.

 and then she feels like shit for even calling, for even telling you that she felt this way. it would cause nothing but problems. penelope pauses, in her brain. no, it wouldn’t even cause problems! being with you is so incredibly far-fetched that there isn’t even a “will they, won’t they” debate. any problem is solved with a simple “won’t they.” no, this wouldn’t cause problems, but it would cause heartache, and she should’ve known better. penelope thinks she’s feeling a bit of that heartache now. she sniffles, toying with a tiny plush pig she keeps perched on her desk. sometimes penelope just gets blinded by the butterflies. it’s her best trait and most fatal flaw.

 there’s a knock at her door. derek. 

 “hey babygirl,” he says, pushing open the door and leaning into the doorframe. “what are you doing for lunch?” 

 with her back turned to him, she rubs at her eyes delicately, trying very hard not to mess up her makeup. “uh, i brought my thermos. soup,” she says, clawing desperately at the bubbly personality she can feel slipping away from her for today. she’s just down in the dumps. 

 “hey, what’s wrong?” derek asks, instantly picking up on her sour mood. he steps into her office and closes the door behind him. 

 penelope turns to him, eyes rimmed in red, and gives him a half smile. derek, sweet derek, always so in tune with penelope, is looking at her intently, worry written in every crease of his face. penelope always feels lucky to have him, but especially in this moment. in a rush of emotion, she stands, flings her arms around his neck and pulls him in to a tight hug. 

 derek chuckles. “i love you too.” 

 penelope pulls away with a half-hearted chuckle, swatting the air as if to get rid of the negative emotions plaguing her office. “you come in here with your big muscles and your pretty face and somehow you’ve got me crying in your arms.” she laughs again, slightly more enthusiastic this time. 

 derek pulls her to his chest again, holding her there without words. penelope lets out a deep sigh, releasing every single emotion she just ran through. 

she could deal with those later. she could deal with her royal mess with you later. right now, it didn’t matter. what mattered now was her office, her lunch, and derek morgan.

“derek?” she asks, voice small. he turns to her, prompting her to speak again. “if i asked you to stay, would you?”

[iam93percentstardust]

hey! i hope you’re having an amazing day. this is just me popping in your inbox to say that’s youre one of my favourite writers and you got me really interested in winteriron (honestly one of the cutest ships) are there any fics/authors ii could reccomend?

Hi there! Thank you so much! I love this ship so much, they’ve got such potential for both fluff and angst. They really are one of my favorite ships to write and I’m glad I was able to write so much for them this year. I certainly do have plenty of recs for you, starting with my favorite authors:

@riotwritesthings: started writing last year, I highly recommend just about everything Riot writes but especially Road Hazards, Melt into Me (Your Words are My Own), and When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

@hddnone: so many stories and all so good! Has nearly 100 Winteriron works on ao3 and you will not regret reading any of them, though fair warning that some of them are Team Cap Critical. Especially recommend Honey Pot, You’ve Got Mail, and A Bit(e) of Danger

@monobuu: mostly an artist but sometimes writes stories as well. i recommend Ravioli, Invincible Summer, and Meet the Fam

@tisfan and @27dragons: can’t make a Winteriron rec list without including the both of them. They work together a lot but you should definitely take a look at their own stuff as well. I recommend Safe and (the) Sound, Kiss Me Thru the Phone, and Stark, Naked

@ad1thi: currently taking a bit of a hiatus and working on non-Marvel works but I love everything Adi writes, particularly her entire Bollywood but Make it Gay series, which isn’t always Winteriron but wonderful nonetheless. I recommend the Greek Gods AU, 1000 Lives (For You), and we’re connected

@the-winter-writer: lots of smut and all absolutely fantastic! I like Precious Treasure, Winter Wings, and Instinct

@rayshippouuchiha: definitely an iconic writer for this fandom. Really great if you’re looking for genderbends. Writes a lot of absolutely incredible fics and not just for Winteriron but my personal favorites are The (Not So) Great Pretender, Fearful Symmetry, and The Mistletoe Kiss Polka

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar): once again very iconic. you’ve probably read at least one of their works even if didn’t know. I recommend Shameless, Today’s Forecast, and Practice Makes Perfect

@lovelyirony: mostly writes ficlets here on tumblr and a multishipper (I don’t know why I’m saying that like it’s a bad thing, I’m a multishipper), also a fan of Sharon Carter and that’s the thing that made me follow her so you know

@amethystinawrites: I only recently started working their works but I’m loving everything I’ve come across so far. I recommend Tech Support and I Won’t Hold My Breath

AvocadoLove: also writes a lot of Stony and Stuckony, which I love a lot, but for their Winteriron works, I recommend Amalgam and Dead Man’s Switch

Dracusfyre: another one I’m new to. I literally just started reading their works today so I don’t have any recs for them yet but one of my friends loves them so I’m going to go with you should definitely take a look at their works

Eirlyssa: has some anti-Team Cap works so keep an eye out for that if that’s not your thing but writes very good Winteriron. I recommend Guide Me Home (Guide My Heart) and Always (I’ll Be There)

@imposter-human: one of the first MCU blogs I ever followed! I recommend childhood memories, speak my language, and lost in translation

As for specific works I like:

Four Strings and Second Chances by Vashoth

It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes,

Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'

Who is the Mechanic? by @akira-of-the-twilight

The Asset watched as his handlers brought in a stranger—a man with a metal object stuck to his chest that was hooked to a car battery.

The handlers shoved the man onto the stool where many who had operated on the Asset’s arm in the past had sat before.

“Asset,” one handler said, “meet the Mechanic. He will be responsible for the upkeep of your arm. Should anything malfunction, kill him.”

The Asset eyed the Mechanic. The Mechanic was glassy-eyed and unresponsive.

He’d probably be dead in a week.

The Fix by SleepsWithCoyotes

Right, because Tony...Tony fixes things. He remembers thinking that, not for the first time.

Paths are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

The Evidence by StrivingArtist

Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.

Fuck it.

He knew they noticed.

And he knew they liked him better this way.

Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls by NotEvenCloseToStraight

The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.

Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.

James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. His heart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.

When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.

The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?

Puppy Love by Reioka

Bucky is learning to become a person again. When some guy starts crying all over Natasha's dog, he decides he's doing better than he originally thought.

Describe Your Perfect Date by ali_aliska

After getting turned down by Bucky, Tony decides it’s time to move on from his massive crush. He tries online dating—Pepper’s idea, not his—but the only thing worse than getting rejected is getting rejected and finding out your soulmate-level match is Clint Barton, all in the same day.

Clint, of course, does not let opportunities like this go to waste, but he’s driving Tony nuts for a good cause, he swears.

Bucky’s just trying to do the right thing and fails spectacularly, but it all works out in the end.

Rocket Science by marsmaywonder and orbingarrow

Sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated, grad student Tony falls asleep in a conveniently empty classroom and wakes up in the middle of Bruce’s Physics 101 course. After seeing a groggy Tony fumble a simple question, actual-student Bucky offers to tutor him. In a moment of “oh no; he’s cute” panic, Tony takes him up on it. Now, in addition to his already complicated life, Tony has to figure out the answer to the incredibly messy question: “How do you look like you’re failing the class, when you literally wrote the book?”

What’s Good for the Goose by Taste_is_Sweet

For this nonny prompt at the Imagine Tony and Bucky comm on Tumblr:

"A soulmate AU where an immortal goose shows up one day to lead you to your soulmate, the challenge is surviving the goose." (Full prompt in notes.)

We all have soulmates, and every soulmate pair shares an animal guide. The Guide is there to lead you to your One True Love, and they represent the aspects of the psyche that you both share. They appear when you're about to meet your soulmate, and often materialize in moments of great personal crisis, offering hope and support. There are stories upon stories about how someone's Guide appeared to lead them to their One True, or how the barest glimpse of their Guide eased their hearts and gave them hope in the midst of despair. The newly-rescued almost always attribute their Guide with giving them the strength and courage to hang on.

Animal Guides are ephemeral, ethereal, and elusive. They are, most often, no more than a warm presence or flicker out of the corner of one's eye. They are incarnate symbols of perseverance, optimism and hope. Foretellers of happiness, and the grand destiny of love.

Except for geese. Geese are assholes.

and so, we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself. --- Tony simply goes through days and motions. He deals with the Avengers, with R&;D, with the rewritten Accords. All of it, it’s nothing new really. He just wants to get things done.

What’s new is seeing Barnes hunched over the coffee table, one step away from ripping a glossy magazine apart in the middle of the night.

And why the hell Barnes keeps looking at him during the days after like he’s a puzzle to be solved?

Welcome to the Winteriron fandom! We’ve got a lot of incredible authors and artists both and this is just the tip of the iceberg!

[bnha-hq]

7 minutes in heaven

Here’s my rarepair2020 fic for @seijouthirdyears I hope you enjoy it!!

It was hard picking a ship cause I like all of them lmao but ended up on this ship, it’s one of my favourites!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oikawa thinks over his long time friendship with Kuroo during their 7 minutes in heaven.

Warnings: none Word count: 3034 Ship: Oikawa x Kuroo

This wasn’t the first party Oikawa had been too, not by a long shot, it wasn’t even the first game of spin the bottle or 7 minutes of heaven that he’d ever played. This was, however, the first time he’d ever been this nervous. The first time he’d ever intently watched the bottle with his chest tight, from holding his breath or anticipation he wasn’t quite sure. He felt like he was 15 again, playing the game for the first time and that was almost amusing…almost.

He had half a mind to feel almost embarrassed by just how intently he watched the bottle, how he was only a hair’s width of self-control away from crossing his fingers and praying out loud for it to land on a particular person but he just couldn’t bring himself to fully commit to it. He watched as the bottle passed player after player, slowing down on each rotation till it was moving in a crawl so painfully slow it made him want to pull his own hair out. It did however come to a complete stop and Oikawa wasn’t sure whether he was going to survive these next 7 minutes.

When he looked from the bottle he was met with Kuroo’s sly smirk, a smirk that made Oikawa feel like Kuroo knew exactly what he was thinking, like he could see right through him, which was a feeling he wasn’t quite used to yet if he was being completely honest with himself. He offered his hand to Oikawa in which he gladly accepted and into the small, dark closet they went.

The door was closed behind them, a soft click indicating the door was now locked. This was it, for the next 7 minutes it was just him and Kuroo in this closet and usually Oikawa was more than happy to get right into it but this time he didn’t, he couldn’t. He glanced around the closet, but he couldn’t make out anything, he could feel Kuroo’s body heat, so he knew the middle blocker was close but besides that he wasn’t sure about what else was around. The room was as silent as it was dark, the party from the other side of the door seemed muffled, much more distant than it really was somehow. He could barely hear it over the sound of his heart beating wildly in his chest, he was sure Kuroo had to be able to hear it too, a thought that didn’t really help.

“Let’s just chat for now yeah?” Kuroo’s voice cut through the silence, the sound of him leaning against the wall and sliding down followed. “We can see where it goes from there~.”

Oikawa could have sworn that he heard Kuroo’s smirk, he really was cocky, a trait Oikawa found both incredibly frustrating but also incredibly endearing. He nodded despite the dark and sat on the ground across from the other man.

“Chatting works” he was too tall to stretch his legs fully as he sat, so he placed his feet by the wall and rested his arms on his knees. The warmth of Kuroo’s leg flush against his seeped through his jeans, seeming to warm his entire body

“Oh good! Cause I have to tell you about what happened today in chemistry” and off he went, talking about an experiment that his teacher had shown the class. Most of what Kuroo said simply flew over Oikawa’s head, not that he didn’t care what the other had to say, he did, he just didn’t understand a word Kuroo said. He was sure that Kuroo wasn’t even speaking Japanese half the time and he stood by that, but even then he loved to listen to him talk, to hear the passion in his voice and even now, in the pitch black darkness of this tiny closet he knew that Kuroo was gesturing wildly and making faces as he described his daily antics, his eyes wide with excitement. Oikawa absolutely adored it, his eyes in particular; they were one of the things that caught his attention the day they first met.

 In fact, Oikawa remembered that whole day very vividly, it was his first day of university and he had felt almost dizzy with the flurry of emotions he was feeling. He was uncharacteristically nervous, he was a small fish in a big pond again and this time he didn’t have Iwaizumi with him, he missed his best friend and family but at the same time he was more excited than he had ever remembered being. This was it, next chapter in his life and he was determined to grab it with both hands and run with it.

He remembered stepping on the court and immediately feeling right at home, the smell of the polished floor and the sound of volleyballs hitting the court were all so familiar and comforting, he couldn’t wait to be on here playing a real game. He also couldn’t wait to meet his team, to get a read on them, to pick apart their strengths and weaknesses and work with them to build a team he was sure others would consider a challenge. So, in he went to meet the team.

Kuroo had approached him first, Oikawa remembered his first thought being that he had a terrible hairstyle, joking to himself that surely his hair blocked his vision, right?

“Hi, I’m Kuroo, previously a middle blocker from Nekoma high school” he held his hand out, shaking Oikawa’s firmly with a grin that gave him the distinct feeling that Kuroo was reading him just as much as he was reading Kuroo.

“Oikawa, previous setter and captain from Aoba Johsai” he remembered watching Kuroo’s sly grin widen a bit, those calculating eyes narrowing in on him in a way he would have imagine a cats would after having cornered its prey and Oikawa was already fascinated with him. This was going to be an interesting relationship.

Oikawa had spent that game getting to know his teammates and as was his speciality, he had picked them apart mentally and was confident he knew how to bring out their absolute best…all besides Kuroo. Oikawa struggled to get a good read on him, he was aware of his strengths as he was a brilliant player but he couldn’t figure out his weaknesses, his playing style or really any firm grasp of his personality, nothing he could work with anyway, he firmly believed it was deliberate. He had spent practice after practice trying to work him out, but it was always the same, Oikawa saw exactly what Kuroo wanted him to see and not a bit more…and he’d be lying if it wasn’t a little bit exciting. Oikawa had never met someone like Kuroo before, someone who could match him at his own game and somehow make it fun, Oikawa felt himself drawn to him more than ever. His sharp tongue and sharper eye drew him in, but he never let himself lose control, Kuroo may be good but he was better, and he’d prove it. Oikawa could have described it as almost like a dance, stepping around each other waiting for the other to make the next move. A dance with their own rhythm and no end in sight, a game with no foreseeable victory, nothing to win but exhilarating all the same.

 Over time they had grown closer, the timer still ticked, and the beat still pulsed but Oikawa found a strange comfort in his new friend, different to the comfort he had with his other friends. He enjoyed their relationship, they understood each other, trusted each other and ultimately cared for each other in their own unique way, a way that he really understood. Oikawa often liked to think about whether they’d have been friends had they met in his middle school or even high school years, he wanted to say they would but he knew that wasn’t the truth, though that thought amused him honestly. He very likely wouldn’t have been sitting here, on Kuroo’s couch and he definitely wouldn’t be here looking at his friend’s concern and actually wanting to open up.

“So, what’s up? You’ve been quiet” Kuroo’s voice had been soft and genuine, there was no teasing undertone or hint of a joke. It was so simple, yet Oikawa had complete confidence that he wouldn’t mock him, he knew he wouldn’t hold it over him or shove it aside as an inconvenience. He’d taken a second, he still wasn’t sure why…maybe to appreciate the gentleness, the kindness, or maybe to just gather his thoughts a bit more.

“Guess I feel a little homesick…missing my best friend especially, this is the first time I’ve been away from him for so long” he’d chuckled humourlessly. He remembers how silly he had felt when he confessed it out loud, it seemed so childish, he’s an adult now and he’s sulking about his friend who he still gets to see, albeit not as often!

He glanced at Kuroo to gauge his reaction and Kuroo nodded, Oikawa didn’t know what exactly he was expecting but it wasn’t that.

“I get that, my best friend is still at Nekoma for another year. Shit’s rough” he chuckled a bit himself, not as dry as Oikawa’s had been but not the laugh the blocker usually had, despite that though it was just as real, and something fluttered in Oikawa’s stomach.

“Yeah, it’s weird not having him here, we started everything together!” He’d barely missed slapping Kuroo when he threw his arms open in a grand gesture, Kuroo laughed a little livelier at that and Oikawa remembered feeling a smidge of pride at that.

“I was even there when he caught his first bug!” Kuroo gasped a bit, clearly playing into the setter’s theatrics and Oikawa honestly appreciated it.

“I was there when he beat his first video game” Kuroo added on with a grin.

It was that moment, on that couch just talking about their love for their friends that the tune shifted, and the dance changed, subtle as it was, it was there. Oikawa noticed that as they talked, talked about Kenma and Iwaizumi, their families and just moments from their childhood the more the melody slightly changed. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly had changed but he was acutely aware that it had, he had found himself wondering if Kuroo had felt it too, he was sure he would have.

Oikawa didn’t want to think about it too much at the time, it had felt so delicate and fragile then and Oikawa was worried to ruin it, so he let it be, he figured it was one of those things that shouldn’t be meddled with.

 Oikawa was jolted back to the present with a yelp when Kuroo squeezed the sides of his knees firmly.

“Are you even listening to me?” Oikawa could tell he was holding back a laugh, possibly laughing at his reaction.

“…yes” Oikawa lied.

He swore he could feel Kuroo’s eyes roll when he said that and this time he actually did laugh, it seemed to fill the room with a sense of warmth.

“Alright alright, I admit I got side-tracked” Kuroo chuckled and checked his watch, the numbers glowing. “Huh, it’s been two minutes.”

“Only two? Huh…” Oikawa’s eyed widened, only two minutes! He was going to die before the seven minutes was up, he was sure of it.

Oikawa felt Kuroo’s hand on his knee, though instead of a brutal squeeze he gently massaged up and down his leg, going just below mid-thigh before coming back down, this was something Oikawa was used to as Kuroo did often though wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a comforting gesture or just something he did because he felt like it at the time. All he knew was that it drove him just as crazy as the day he first did it.

 It had been a horrible winter day, it was cold, snowy and windy and just not all that pleasant. Kuroo had prepared some hot chocolate for the two of them and they had rugged up on the couch with some movies playing on the tv and despite the terrible weather outside Oikawa had felt comfortable, it had been warm inside and he’d really enjoyed Kuroo’s company.

Kuroo had let Oikawa choose the movies, and as it turned out they both had the same taste in movies, others would call them ‘bad’ or ‘a disgrace to the movie industry’ but they loved them, there was nothing like sitting down to a terrible movie and having a good laugh at the CGI or acting or even the plot itself. Oikawa had been focused on the movie when he first felt Kuroo’s hand on his leg, it had surprised him so much that he almost jumped.

He quickly looked at Kuroo, his surprise only growing when he seemed completely fixated on the movie still, he didn’t even seem aware of what he was doing or what it was doing to Oikawa, who had been trying his hardest to act as nonchalant and unaffected as Kuroo even as he had a million questions spinning through his mind. Was this flirting? Why would he be flirting? And why did the thought of Kuroo flirting with him send his heartbeat into overdrive? It’s not like he wanted Kuroo to be flirting with him, right? They were only friends after all, very good friends perhaps but still only friends. He couldn’t focus on the movie anymore and only on Kuroo, and more importantly what a simple gesture as putting his hand on Oikawa’s leg was doing to the setter. He couldn’t think of anything really, no reasons or logic, it only every kept coming back to the fact that Oikawa liked it, he liked the warmth of his hand and the gentle act of affection, he hadn’t known at the time why he liked it so much but looking back on it he just wasn’t ready to accept the true reason yet.

Oikawa had noticed that it was then that the melody of their relationship seemed to shift again, the dance less push and pull as it had been before and while it was still there, it had a much more a comforting flow, a melody that had witnessed the growth of their friendship and changed with it and a melody that didn’t appear to be finished changing…what that meant for the two of them Oikawa wasn’t sure, he was sure he’d find out soon enough though.

 Oikawa had been correct; it had only been the next day when it finally made sense to him, he’d thought it over again and again and again, analysed his own reaction and why he swore he could still feel Kuroo’s warm hand on his leg when the realisation hit him like a spike to the face.

He was, without a doubt, in love with Kuroo Tetsurou.

At the realisation he felt like he was back in his first day, feeling both terrified but exhilarated at the same time. Oikawa was confident and rarely felt scared to pursue someone he was interested in but this time it felt different, he didn’t want to rush right into it instead he was determined to take his time, feel it out as we went.

He would make his move when the time felt completely right to do so.

 Oikawa was once again jolted from his memory when Kuroo shifted, moving to almost straddle him in a way that allowed him to get face to face. Oikawa could just make out the outline of Kuroo’s face but felt his breath against his lips faintly and in that moment, he was so glad it was dark because he was sure he was redder than he had ever been before. Oikawa collected his racing thoughts the best he could before he spoke.

“W-What are you doing?” he only blushed darker at how high his voice came out and his little stutter.

“Times nearly up and I want to tell you something, and I wanna make sure you actually pay attention” Kuroo’s voice was similar to how his had sounded, though the call out was firm, he could only smile sheepishly at that.

He could have sworn that even Kuroo could have heard his heartbeat with how hard it was beating, what could he possibly need to say that required this distance? Oikawa had an idea…or a bit of hope of what it would be.

“Better be quick then.”

He felt Kuroo shuffle a bit, he figured he was trying to get more comfortable, or as comfortable as he could in the space they were given then heard him take a breath, the type of breath that was usually followed with him running his fingers through his hair and Oikawa briefly cursed the dark.

Oikawa felt on edge, though not in a bad way. His body full of tension the same as it would on Christmas eve or buckling into your favourite ride at the carnival, this was the climax of their melody and he knew it, every step and spin had lead them to this very moment, trapped in this closet only inches from one another.

“I like you…a lot…and I have for a while” he took Oikawa’s hands in his and kissed the knuckles gently, such a gentle gesture yet it sent Oikawa crazy. “I don’t know if you feel the same and I really don’t want to ruin what we have, I just wanted you to know.”

“I love you too” Oikawa brought his hand up and gently held Kuroo’s face, eventually closing the gap and kissing the boy he had wanted to kiss for so long now and just like that their song changed and their dance with it. It was no longer the push and pull competitiveness from when they first met, or the tentative, unsure steps of the between but a dance they both knew the moves to, a song in which they both knew the words. It was comforting and beautiful, and Oikawa looked forward to listening to it for a very long time.

[purrincess-chat]

Kill Em With Kindness CH1

I teased this fic a little earlier, and here it is! I have had this general idea for a while now it was based on a post that I saw forever ago after Chameleon came out initially, but I could never figure out exactly how to work it, but then Ladybug happened and it solved the problem I was having with it, so now I can make it exist. >:) For those who wanted more out of Marinette and Adrien in MDCSP, this fic is for yall!

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Marinette’s stomach churned as she flipped through the photos on her phone for the dozenth time. None of it made sense to her. Adrien knew Lila was a liar, so how had she weaseled her way into a photoshoot for Gabriel? Just when she was starting to think things were going back to normal.

“Marinette! You have a visitor!” Sabine called up the stairs, and she darkened her screen with a sigh.

“Coming,” she replied less than enthusiastically as she stood up, but to her surprise, two green eyes peeked up from her trap door.

“Can I come in?”

“A-Adrien?” She gasped, fumbling a little as he climbed up. “What are you doing here? N-Not that you can’t come here because you can come here whenever you want just I- what’s up?”

“Well, after everything that’s happened, I wanted to come see how you were doing, and I feel like I should explain myself. Can we talk?” He quirked a brow.

“Of course.” Marinette nodded, gesturing to the chaise which he sat on before leaning his elbows on his knees with a sigh.

“Okay, so I know you’ve probably seen the photoshoot, and I want you to know that it doesn’t mean I’m on her side- I’m not; quite the opposite, actually,” he said, flicking his gaze to her. “I feel like I should apologize to you. I used to think Lila’s lies were harmless, but she’s hurt the people I care about more than once, and that’s not okay.”

He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them with a pensive frown.

“I’m not proud of it, but I couldn’t sit by and do nothing while she attacked you, so before our shoot I talked to her and forced her to fix everything so you could come back,” he explained. “I made her lie again, but it was to undo the damage she caused, so that’s not so bad, right?”

“You did that for me?” Marinette’s eyebrows raised.

“Of course,” he said with a small smile. “You’re my friend, and Lila crossed a line. I couldn’t standby and do nothing while she ruined your life.”

Marinette felt her cheeks flush under his warm gaze, and she bit her lip, reaching into her pocket to retrieve her lucky charm.

“Looks like my Adrien good-luck charm works,” she said, and Adrien perked up upon seeing it.

“I’m glad,” he said before retrieving his own. “We’ll be fine so long as we have each other.”

He took her hand, pressing the charms together between their palms then lowering his gaze with a frown.

“I wish we could do something about Lila. I don’t want her to hurt anyone else, but she’s so good at spinning the truth. There’s really no way for us to prove any of it,” he said glumly, and Marinette pursed her lips in thought.

“What if we don’t prove anything?” She asked, and when Adrien quirked a brow, she continued, “Lila lies with every breath, and she just bends the truth more when you try to question her, so what if instead of challenging her, we back her into a corner by playing along?”

“How so?” His eyes narrowed.

“It will be a lot of work, but with the two of us we could probably pull it off.” She tapped her chin. “So, Lila is always coming up with stories, illnesses, excuses, so what if we kept track of all of them and held her accountable? Like for her sprained wrist, we could give her a wrist brace that she has to wear, or since she was so worried about a napkin gouging out Max’s eye, we could put safety glasses in the cafeteria. This way it seems like we’re being nice and supportive to everyone else, but in reality we’ll be waiting for her lies to contradict each other- which they often do if you pay attention. Lila banks on other people’s obliviousness when she lies.”

“So, you want to get back at her by being nice?” He tilted his head to one side.

“It’s called kill em with kindness.” Marinette smirked, and Adrien faced her with a grin.

“That’s wonderfully devious of you, Marinette,” he complimented, “and I think it’s just what we need.”

“I don’t take lightly to people lying to my friends,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know. I shouldn’t have insisted on ignoring her before. I feel like everything is my fault,” he said, lowering his gaze to his feet, and Marinette reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

“It isn’t your fault that Lila is a liar, Adrien. You were just trying to be the bigger person, but unfortunately for us, Lila is a special kind of despicable,” she assured him. “But so long as we have each other then she can’t win.”

“You’re right. Thanks, Marinette.” He pulled her in for a hug, and her cheeks grew hot. “So, where should we start?”

“Well,” Marinette started, tapping her chin. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”

***

The following day everyone was buzzing about the photoshoot as expected, but Adrien only felt calm as he walked past his schoolmates. Lila was good. So good that she’d even fooled his father, but he wasn’t going to stand for her lies anymore. It was time to burn down Lila’s web once and for all.

“Adrien and I just have such a natural chemistry,” Lila was saying as he approached their group.

“Hey, Adrien, great photoshoot. You and Lila totally rocked,” Alya said with a grin.

“Thanks, Alya. My photographer is really good at giving direction during our shoots. Anyone can model if he’s behind the camera.” Adrien gave a modest shrug, shooting a pointed look at Lila.

“It was amazing getting to work with you, Adrien,” she said with that saccharine fakeness she was so good at, but Adrien’s attention was soon diverted as Marinette walked through the front doors.

“Marinette!” He called, waving her over before rushing to meet her halfway with everyone else.

“Welcome back, Marinette!”

“We knew it was all a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, you’d never do any of those things.”

Adrien cut through the crowd, gaze fixed on her with a bright smile, and he pulled her into a warm hug.

“I’m so happy you’re back here where you belong, Marinette. How could anyone ever believe you’d do such horrible things?” He said, rocking her back and forth. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. You’re so caring and trustworthy and genuinely kind. There’s no way you could have ever done those things.”

“Yeah, you’re like the last person on Earth to cheat or intentionally hurt someone, girl,” Alya agreed.

“I’m really sorry for any trouble my disease caused you, Marinette,” Lila said, clasping her hands together in front of her and curling her shoulders. “I hope you don’t hate me.”

“Not at all, Lila,” Marinette said with a gentleness that made Lila’s head snap up. “In fact, I brought you a brace for your knee. It was really horrific seeing you fall down the stairs, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Knee injuries can be so delicate; you should probably take it easy for a while. Such a shame too since we were all planning to go swimming tomorrow and now you can’t come.”

“Yeah…” Lila eyed the brace in Marinette’s outstretched hand and the friendly smile on her face in confusion before taking it. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, Lila. I hope you and I can put this whole thing behind us,” Marinette said, and their classmates cooed adoringly.

“Wow, Marinette, you really are amazing,” Max said.

“Isn’t she just the best?” Adrien added with a nod.

“I’m just trying to mend these bridges. I think Lila and I just got off on the wrong foot because of a misunderstanding. I hope from now on that we can be friends,” Marinette said, holding out a hand in good faith, and Lila flicked her gaze around to all of her classmates’ expectant faces.

“Of course, Marinette. I’d be happy to be your friend.” She smiled before shaking her hand.

“I’m glad.” Marinette perked up as the bell rang, and their group dispersed.

Lila shot her a skeptical glare, but Marinette simply smiled sweetly.

“I don’t know what you’re plotting, but just know that it’s never going to work,” Lila hissed in her ear, and Marinette pulled back innocently.

“I don’t know what you mean, Lila. I’m just trying to be nice,” she said before following after everyone.

Adrien fell into step beside her as they walked, biting back a smug grin.

“Phase one complete,” he murmured under his breath, and a smirk curled on Marinette’s lips.

“Onto phase two.”

Tagging: @teresarosiadeviluke2112 @sam-spectra @lennves because they asked

Next chapter

[astrodances]

Inspired by this post. Prequel to this fic. Accompanied by this art.

*****

Moon

Scrooge stands just out of reach of the cabin, his arms tucked together, the door left open.

He needs the air. He needs space.

Tonight, the woodbin is too small for him and everything racing through his mind. Too crowded for him and a certain metal box, so he lets the box have the bin, and he stretches his legs.

His eyes wander up to the sky, searching.

It seems the spring thaw is allowing for one more show of the aurora borealis right above them before the endless days of the Klondike summer take over. The valley around him glows with colors of shimmering green against treetops and sparkling patches of melting snow, and the creek dances in time with the lights above.

It’s a spectacular sight, like all the splendors of nature have gathered just for him, but it’s not what catches his eye.

Instead, his gaze travels the arc of the sky down to the horizon, where a lone full moon awaits. She’s beautiful, so beautiful and stunning and bright. And golden.

Scrooge can’t believe how golden the moon looks. It’s as if all the power of the sun is shining through her, so that she’s brighter than any gold nugget lying below his feet, or in his lockbox. He can’t stop staring at her, can’t help wanting to brush his fingers over those delicate golden locks again—

Scrooge freezes, and not from the cool night air.

Even out here, his mind keeps automatically wandering back to all the treasures in the cabin behind him, and he turns towards it, sighing. The light of the moon pours through the open doorway, allowing him to see the edge of his woodbin, his table, his chair, the silhouette on his bed...

Deep down, he knows what he has here inside is precious, something to cherish.

But years of life experience insist that it’s a trap. A trap different from any other he’s encountered, what with her feminine wiles and sultry voice, but one ready to ensnare him nevertheless. It’s what she does for a living, just to con men out of their gold, and he curses himself for ever falling for it.

...At least, that’s what he tells his heart. He’s just another snake being lured to the charmer. That must be why his heart keeps fluttering the more he mines gold side by side with her on his claim. Why every comeback from her draws him closer. Why every slip-up about his lockbox makes him turn red.

It must be.

Because there’s no way on Earth that Goldie O’Gilt could ever love—

“Scrooge?”

The duck in question nearly jumps out of his feathers, and he snaps his gaze to the figure leaning against the doorframe of the cabin, arms crossed and her hip jutting out.

He must have zoned out—his face is on fire, he’s sure of it.

When she gets no answer, Goldie continues, a restless night—many of them—thick on her voice, “I know there’s a full moon, but if you think I’m starting work this early, you can just forget about it!”

Scrooge looks between her and over his shoulder at the moon, then shakes his head. “I—no. No...” He can’t bear to look at her now, not yet. “I was jes’ stretching my legs.”

“That’s what you get for sleeping in a woodbin, miner.”

There’s a challenge hidden in her reply, one that he can’t quite make out, but he senses it nevertheless.

So he rises to it.

“Look who’s talking, Miss O’Give-Me-a-Mattress.” He smirks, gaining confidence. “Stiff back keeping you up?”

Goldie grumbles, not in full retreat, but enough for Scrooge to know he’s hit a sore spot, literally. If it wasn’t for him dragging her up to his claim, she’d probably be back in her own warm, comfy bed in Dawson, not facing the onset of early back pain.

But before he can offer any remorse, or answer with some quip about how that’s what she gets for stealing his nugget in the first place, Goldie mutters something akin to “I’ll show you a stiff back,” leans down, and gathers a handful of snow from the patch closest to the cabin. When she stands up straight again, there’s a dangerous glint in her eyes and before he knows what’s happening, Scrooge gets a snowball to the chest that sends him staggering back a few feet.

“And for the record,” Goldie adds, pleased with her shot, but frustrated still. “It wasn’t my back keeping me up, it was someone forgetting to close the door again and letting all the cold in!”

This—this kind of fire, he can deal with. He can fight it.

“Bah! The cold air is good for ye, keeps your mind sharp!” he yells, running to gather up his own snowball from an opposing—and safely-distant—patch. From this angle, he can see more aurorae looming over his cabin. The two sourdoughs, the sky—everything seems to have come out to play tonight.

His snowball grazes the skirt of her dress (he’ll blame the shadows near the cabin for the poor aim later), just as another of hers sails past his ear and a third hits his shoulder.

Goldie’s laughing now, and it’s a sound that Scrooge could listen to forever, were it not for her reason for doing so. “Oh yeah? If that’s the case, then what’s your excuse, Sharpie?” she taunts, already tossing another snowball in her hand.

Yep, the fight is definitely on.

There’s not much in the way of cover except for the sluice and mine shaft, neither of which have enough snow near them, so the impromptu fight morphs into a game of chase around the cabin as time goes on. Insults are thrown just as much as snowballs, but beneath it all, that fire, that longing, burns ever brighter, and Scrooge catches himself smiling more than he’d like to admit.

Yet with a move just as deceitful as the moon can be in how fast she moves, the game comes crashing down.

At some point, Scrooge thinks he’s earned the upper hand and finds himself perched on a low-lying rock a few feet out from a corner of the cabin, giving him a perfect view of both adjacent corners. His arm is poised, snowball ready to strike, and he’s already reveling in the fact that there’s no way Goldie can show herself now without him seeing her first.

Victory is in his grasp, but a piercing whistle from behind him snatches it away.

Goldie doesn’t bother with words.

Scrooge turns, completely perplexed at her levels of stealth, but before he can get out even a baffled “But how?!”, a snowball as hard as his nugget (he briefly considers that this is it, this is the moment she’s decided to steal it again) nails him in his solar plexus, and he goes flying to the ground.

The blow isn’t as bad as he expected it to feel, once the initial shock wears off, but his eyes stay clenched shut for a good few seconds longer than necessary. He can hear Goldie drawing closer, can practically already hear her gloating. But it’s the sensation of her leaning down over him, her legs on either side of his hips and her hands pinning him in place just above his shoulders, that makes him finally open his eyes.

And when he does, he gasps.

If he thought the moon was beautiful before, it has nothing on the sight above him now.

Goldie towers above him, silhouetted by curtains of the glittering green and fiery red spirits of the aurorae dancing against an endless night of stars. The light bounces off her hair as it gently waves in the breeze, highlighting each strand of golden silk thread as they press against her blossoming cheeks. Her dress dazzles and her feathers glow in a halo, and his every breath leaves him.

He’s beholding beauty in its purest form, a glimpse into the heavens, the heart of the universe, he’s certain of it.

There’s a hint of concern hidden in her smirk, but Goldie doesn’t express anything more than a simple, teasing, “I win, Sourdough,” before moving to get back up.

“Don’t,” Scrooge whispers softly, automatically, bringing his hands up to rest on her forearms to stop her.

Goldie takes on a look of confusion even as her blushing deepens, but he can’t help it. He can’t let her go, not now. Not yet. Not until he’s mesmerized every defining curve, every flame of light filling his view.

And her eyes. Her eyes seem to hold every answer he’s ever searched for. He can see reflections of snow, of the lights, even of himself (and how red his face is), alongside a realization that hits him hard, bringing time to a standstill for him.

He’s in love. With Goldie O’Gilt.

Scrooge audibly gulps, quickly becoming aware of the electricity between them and how close she truly is.

“Scrooge?”

He’s not sure what she wants to ask, only that the tension in her arms has relaxed under his grip. He takes that as invitation enough to lift a slow, trembling hand up to caress her cheek, letting his fingers weave into her hair. For all the time he spent looking at the lock of hair in his strongbox, admiring its softness, nothing can compare to the real thing.

“You... I...” he begins, his pulse racing. There’s no way he can tell her, not what’s really on his mind, in his heart.

So he shows her instead, tugging her closer to him to meet in a kiss that causes the lights above to roar with energy, a month’s worth of suspense melting into every second. She answers the call of his heart, and to his delight, he finds hers waiting for him to claim it.

And thus, under the flickering gaze of the aurora and moon, of power and beauty, their dance begins.