#first off: never ask me to draw anything sparkly ever again

[pankomako]

with suits like those they may as well be hosting a TV game show

[dippietheham]

Twas later in the day, and weird creatures were flooping and flopping around the sundials and what not. Probably meant that it would rain, so I made my way down to the now somewhat familiar pub for my mocktail fix.

The same barman was there, and I perched on an empty barstool, looking at him expectantly as he polished the bartop. He smiled and quietly prepared the same mocktail as he'd done before.

Then he spoke.

-----

Have you ever heard the song of a fairy? (he asked. I shook my head.)

I almost heard it before. I'm thankful I didn't.

It was a day like this, where weird creatures were flopping and flooping around, at about 4pm. I was pretty sure it was going to rain, so while there were no patrons, I stepped out to take a breather. Perhaps it was the weather, or maybe it was just that moment when the barrier between real and unreal slips. The air was thick, and I could feel time beating its pulse through the stillness of the moment, as I stood in the garden you just came in from.

The sun was still bright, and there was a light breeze on my face. It reminded me I was alive to feel, and as I breathed deeply, a flower petal floated past. It shimmered and sparkled in the sunlight, and as I focused on it...

It spoke to me.

It told me of dreams and hopes, of flights of fancy and fantasies. It showed me possible futures, ideas, things to come and things that might be. It gave me the certainty of uncertainties, the dreams of my hopes. It whispered of riches and sensualities, delicious things of the senses, titbits of the soul. All it would take would be for me to accept it, to let the petal rest on my palm, to listen to wait where're you going?

I had stepped back into the bar. I found a bowl and poured some fresh peanuts into it, checking it twice to make sure there wasn't any mould. Then I stepped out again.

The atmosphere had changed. The air was a little less still and sparkly. The breeze came in short bursts. Time was moving naturally again, and a toad sat next to the door, staring out into the cloudy skies above.

I sat down next to it, and offered it the peanuts. With relish, it flicked an untoadly long tongue out to smack some of them into its cavernous mouth in quick succession. We stared at the clouds.

It finally asked. "What gave me away?"

I smiled. And took a peanut (an unslimed one). "I'd like to think I've seen more than the average person has. Even though I'm just working in this little bar of mine, my... Friend. Promises like the ones you give are nice to see, and nice to have. But the price to pay for them is never nice. I've paid too much just to stay who I am, in this nice enough place. That's all I need. That's all I want."

The toad smiled. As much as a toad can smile. "I'm a fairy by the way. Not the other kind."

"Aren't fairies supposed to be... Uh... Smaller?" I almost choked on my peanut trying not to say the first words that came to mind.

The toad smiled even wider, and took another tongueful of peanuts with seeming relish. (Watching a toad eat peanuts is an experience of its own. It would whip its tongue into the bowl, under a group of peanuts, and then in the same motion, it would draw its tongue back and up, while wrapping and rolling it in. A few peanuts would be caught this way in one go, and then it would continue talking as if nothing had happened.)

"I'm appearing as I should appear in your mind. You're not an easy one to let me in. How did you know the toad was the one to speak to?"

I shrugged. "You're sitting on a chair reserved for garden gnomes. After that kind of incident... Anything too much of a coincidence probably isn't."

The toad snorted.

"What other kind?" I prompted.

"Demons. Devils. Deities. Dots of your imagination."

I nodded. "What would have happened if I'd let you settle in my hand?"

The toad finished the last of the peanuts and hopped off the chair, steadying the porcelain gnome with its tongue. "You'd have heard me sing. And then..."

"And then?"

"You'd have all your dreams come true. All of them. In as short a time as possible."

I looked at the toad. "Isn't that... A good thing? Won't most people kill for that?"

The toad belched a few times. Then it seemed to remember something. "That was supposed to be laughter. Toads aren't made for laughter. Sorry."

It hopped onto my knee. "I'll let you in on a little secret. Are you sure you want all your dreams to come true? All of them?" The black eyes of the toad seemed to bore into my soul, even as the rest of the world dimmed. "All your dreams... All at once?"

And in the depths of those black pools, I remembered my... Dreams. Dreams of people abandoning me. Dreams of running, hiding, never being able to rest. Dreams of hopes broken, of screams and shapeless things that haunted the corners of my soul. Dreams of my past, things better forgotten, but never really forgiven. On top of other more pleasant dreams, but if they all came together, all at once...

I shuddered and blinked.

So did the toad.

With a final croak, it hopped off my knee. "Thanks for the food. Technically I owe you for that, but I doubt you'll like my presents."

Then it shimmered and vanished. But before it vanished, it turned to smile at me, and as it smiled, it changed into a little gauzy wisp of a thing, wrapped in cotton wool and glitter. It reminded me very much of a fairy tale fairy, except...

I clearly remember too many teeth.

I leave a chunk of raw meat at the side of the garden gnome every week now. It's always gone by the end of the day. If you want, you can help me lay it out when you leave.

-----

There's something good in that mocktail. I'll come back for more, I'm sure.

I did help to leave that piece of prime sirloin in the garden. Something told me not to linger to see what would happen to the meat.

No, you don't understand. I actually heard a voice telling me not to linger.

But I'll be back. Just maybe not to sit by the garden gnome.

[luveline]

Hi! I seriously love the way you write parental relationships with kids. Not really sure if you’d be interested in this idea but would the reader ever need to pick up Roan from daycare when Eddie has to stay late at work?

hi! im so happy you do baby, thanks so much for your request! this was a great idea, you're a wonder ;) this one got really long by accident it's not my fault ♡ girl dad eddie x fem!reader

It's a desperate phone call. You just got home from work and you can hear the landline ringing as you open the door.

"Hello?" you ask, hooking the red plastic receiver between your cheek and your shoulder.

"Hey, it's Eddie!"

You could tell from the grinding sounds in the background. "Hey. Working hard or hardly working?"

Usually Eddie would laugh at your bad jokes. He might look all frosty and cool on the outside but he's not so tough on the inside, a veritable goodball through and through. It's easy to think of him blowing raspberries on Roan's tummy, their matching happy smiles.

"Did you hear me?" he asks.

"What?"

"I asked if you'd do me a favour."

"Sure thing," you say immediately. You ease your shoes back on. "What do you need?"

"Could you pick Roan up from daycare?"

You drop the phone and scramble to pick it up where it's swaying left to right. "Is everything okay?" you ask worriedly.

"Everything is fine! Well, everything sucks, but it's fine. They need my hands for something, 'n usually I'd ask Wayne to grab her for me but he's tied up." You blink. "It's okay if you can't," he adds. You think he might be saying, It's okay if you don't want to.

You grin. "I can get her no problem. Will they let me? Do I need to be on, like, a list?"

"I can call them first. You're sure you don't mind? You can bring her here-"

"Where? To the garage? Can't she just come watch movies with me?"

He clears his throat. "You want to?"

There's lots of things you could say here. Eddie, I adore her. Of course I want to. Or even, Eddie, I'm pretty sure I adore you, so I'd do it even if I didn't love her to pieces.

"I'd love to! We can have a princess party, and-"

"That sounds great, baby. Thank you." His tone is a tad strained.

"Oh, right. Finish your thing! I'll get in the car as soon as you go," you assure him.

"Thank you," he says again, and hangs up.

You let yourself in through the first door and approach the desk.

You drive down to the daycare and can't help thinking about how excited you are to see Roan. You hope she'll be excited in turn, and then you tell yourself off for entertaining the idea. You're not her mom, you're not her anything. You're barely Eddie's anything.

You're really hoping you will be.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up Roan Munson," you say, nervous to talk to this lady you've never met before.

She squints up at you assessingly from behind a pair of bifocals.

"Eddie said he was gonna call."

"Nobody's called me," she says, monotone. "What's your name?"

You tell her your name. She says, "Uh-huh," like she couldn't believe you less and then clicks through a struggling computer, green light illuminating her face.

You twiddle your thumbs. You can hear the sound of kids playing behind the door but don't want to try peeking in case the lady thinks you're a freak.

Maybe Eddie's gonna call any second now and save you the awkwardness.

You open your mouth to reiterate when she hums. "Alright. I'll buzz you in."

She buzzes you in.

You're on the list. Eddie put you on the list.

You walk through the second door and spot Roan instantly, already dressed in her shoes, a chunky pair of black mary janes, and a sparkly red nylon jacket. Her curls are in frizzy braids, one hanging dangerously close to what looks like a pot of dirtied paint water.

The toes of your shoes hit the baby gate. The sound draws lots of attention, a bundle of kids all excited to see their parents and go home. Among them is Roan. Her eyes get wide and she smiles her lovely baby smile, hands paused where she'd been drawing a picture.

"Hey, princess," you say, not too loud as to disturb the workers but more than enough for her to hear you clearly. "You coming home with me?"

Rhetorical, obviously, but amazing to get to hear her say, "Yes! Yes, I'm come with you."

She strides to the babygate and lifts her arms. It's familiar now; while you haven't gotten any better at picking her up, you do it without thinking. You've barely wrapped your arms around Roan when a young man is passing you her backpack.

"Thank you," you say emphatically, not sure what to do with it. In the end you shrug it over your own shoulder.

Roan gives you a hug right there and then. She's all short limbs and extreme enthusiasm as she does, the paper in her hand smashed to your neck and the flyaways from her braids tickling your nose.

She so heavy. You can never get used to how heavy she is. You give her a great back-rubbing squeeze and then set her down. She isn't happy, but she doesn't get too mad, only pouts.

"You look like daddy when you do that."

"Where is daddy?" she asks.

You smooth down the lapels of her jacket. "He's at work with Uncle Wayne. But he sent me to come and get you. Does that sound okay?"

She shrugs. You shrug back at her because she's funny, and it makes you laugh.

"Yeah? I figured we'd go buy some candy and have a princess party." You whisper the last bit and watch awe slacken her face.

It quickly tightens. She screams and jumps at you, almost knocking you over in her rush to hug you.

It's a great feeling. You can tell why Eddie loves this part as much as he does.

You don't have a car seat for her so you decide you can walk the half an hour to your place. It feels long. You take pity on her little legs dragging halfway in and politely ask if you can carry her. She rests on the moving bump of your hip and answers questions about her day as best as she can, her drawing now safely tucked away in her mini backpack.

You stop at the small corner store on the way and let her fill a basket with drinks and chips and candy. All pink or purple, of course. Your princess party needs appropriate catering. There's a cheap tiara and wand set hanging on a rotating rack in the back and you add it as inconspicuously as you can to a growing heap of things so as not to spoil the surprise.

Carrying her and a grocery bag full of things is hard work but you don't mind, not when she's having such a great time. All she's done is chatter about princesses and her dad and you in varying arrangements and with varying passion.

"This is my house," you announce outside.

You let yourselves in, help her out of her shoes, and hold her hand as you climb the stairs together. Roan takes them one at a time. You don't suppose the trailer has as many.

"Good job, baby," you praise.

She gives you one of her more shy smiles and gets noticeably closer to your leg, almost clinging to you as you show her where the bathroom is and then your bedroom.

You don't quite have a princess bed, but you do have a lot of soft looking pillows. She squeals.

"You want to lie down?" you ask her knowingly.

Roan nods. You smirk and pick her up, rocking her back and forth as you count, "1, 2, 3," and toss her into your sheets. She lands with a roaring bubble of giggles and a poof of silken sheets.

You throw yourself down beside her.

She lolls her head to look at you. You share a private smile.

When Eddie finds you, it's in the living room. He'd knocked a couple of time and got no answer, had almost turned around to leave when he heard the TV playing a familiar princess song.

"Girls?" he asks, shocked at your sleeping figures.

Roan wears a cheaply made plastic tiara. Her shoes and socks are gone, her small legs and feet pushed out straight in front of her on the couch cushion. You have your legs kicked up on the coffee table and are surrounded by snacks, a plastic wind in one hand and Roan's hand in the other.

He weaves around discarded shoes and things and perches carefully on the coffee table next to your legs, freshly scrubbed hand reaching out to clasp your calf, rubbing up and down the length of it until you rouse from your dozing. Your hand tightens around his daughters. She's the first thing you check when you wake up.

His heart aches in the best way.

"Hey," he says, still rubbing your leg slowly.

"Hi, Eddie." You rub your face and sit up with a sigh, flopping over until your back is hunched.

Eddie chuckles under his breath and applies a little more pressure to his massage.

"That feels nice," you say through a yawn.

"I bet it does. Did you walk all the way here?"

You wipe your eyes with one hand and look at him through parted fingers for a moment. "Yeah," you confess sheepishly, dropping your hand. "I don't have a car seat."

His turn to be sheepish. "I'm sorry."

"No! Don't be, we," — you hold her hand like a trophy; his heart aches worse — "had a really good walk. Great arm workout. That's my exercise for the year."

He holds his hand out for your empty one. You pass it to him. "Mm," he hums skeptically.

You blink owlishly. "It's okay."

"Seriously, I had a great time. Um, Roan might be out of commission for a bit though. She did some intense jumping on the bed earlier. Oh, and I'm totally forgetting the best part, she..." You fade off as Eddie brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

"I'm sorry you had to walk. I didn't think."

Eddie kisses the same spot and then let's it fall, rubbing the invisible mark with purpose. "Poor girls. I'll make it upto you," he promises.

"That's okay." You mean it. "I had a great time. She's- she's really awesome."

"Gets that from me."

"Sure does. Same as her bottomless pit of a stomach, and her moods, and her-"

"Okay, that's enough."

"-lovely good looks," you finish, eyebrows raising at the starts innocently. "What did you think I was gonna say?"

His laughter finally wakes Roan. She stretches out and mumbles dispassionately, grumpy to be pulled from sleep.

"Hey, princess," he says gently.

Though he feels bad for stealing your nickname, he can't not call her that when she's soft with sleep and wearing her cute crown. The fake pink gems shaped like hearts set in silver painted plastic adorning her inky curls may as well be real jewellery for how pretty she looks.

"Daddy," she cheers weakly, fatigue scratching her throat.

"Poor baby needs a drink," you say.

You're on your feet before Eddie can stop you. He watches you go. Roan climbs into his lap with a self-satsified noise, digging her face into his chest. He looks down at her and drops a handful of dainty kisses against her head.

"Did you have a good day?" he murmurs into her hair.

"Good day, daddy," she says agreeably, already falling back into sleep.

"Best day ever!" you say from the kitchen.

He tries not to feel too jealous and fails.

-

more of eddie and roan

[miekasa]

random boyfriend eren hcs (modern/college au)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern/college au, himbo eren supremacy as per usual, but can you imagine eren, armin, and jean living together in one house bye

↯ notes: this is me once again trying out this headcanon format, also because i have lots of thoughts about eren (being normal) and going to college lmao

↯ more notes: sorry i have to repost this again tumblr is being dumb ://

Not a frat boy, but definitely lives by the mantra “work hard, party harder.”

Likes going out to frat parties and keggers first year, but calms down as time goes on. Sophomore year is more house parties and occasionally going downtown to clubs. By the time junior year rolls around tho, he and Jean are thee party hosts. Homecoming, Halloween, Pre-Thanksgiving break, you name it, those two have a reason to throw a party for it

But party doesn’t always mean absolute rager. Sometimes it’s just drinking with your friends, playing pong, and absolutely crushing Jean at uno. 

At parties with lots of other people, Eren really doesn’t let people fuck around with you, or any of his friends really. Once almost got into a fight because he watched a guy out his hands on yours and Mikasa’s waists to “move around you.” As if. 

Wears his key necklace around all the time, obviously. So he gives you a necklace with a lock on it, with both of your initials engraved on the back. 

Nobody really notices it at first, since the chains are long and the necklaces are you usually tucked inside your shirts. But one day, ever the observant one, Armin catches a glimpse of yours resting on top of your shirt. Cue squinted eyes looking back and forth between you and Eren before—eureka! “You and Eren have matching necklaces!!!”

Plays sports, not for a scholarship but just for fun. Gets very pouty when you can’t make it to his games; and gets extra pouty if you show up, but you’re not wearing his jersey.

On the flip side, gets very giddy when he sees you in the stands with his jersey on and very ostentatiously scoops you up into a hug after the game is over.

Literally does not know where the library is until you show it to him. Any of them. Help him.

The worst person to study with if he doesn’t have any actual work to do. Will bother you and prefer to gossip than to let you do your work in peace. If you need an actual study buddy, you should try Mikasa.

Drunkenly hits on you a lot. Scratch that, he hits on you regardless, drunk or sober, despite the fact that you’re literally dating him already.

Literally reserves at least two nights of the week to have dinner with Armin bye and you couldn’t even interrupt them if you tried.

Waits for you outside of your classroom if you’ve had an important presentation or something. Not always with anything cheesy or loud, but just to be able to cheer you on and congratulate you after.

Hates the act of going grocery shopping, but loves going with you. Also because you force him to buy things other than Anytizers and Kraft Mac and Cheese.

Steals your hair ties and scrunchies to put his hair up. Does not fucking give them back, and denies having them, even if they’re piling up on his wrist.

Will drive you anywhere and everywhere. He is your personal Uber. Even if you don’t want him to be, he would rather die than let you get into an actual Uber—and if it’s late at night? Forget it, Eren doesn’t care if you’re 45 mins away, he’ll come get you.

After you stabbed him with your pen for drawing in your notebook (with your very pristine notes), he started leaving sticky notes inside of them instead.

They’re all super random, usually incoherent, and sometimes just drawings, and you’d never tell him, but you keep every single one.

Cuts class a lot, but not to the point where he’s failing. Just when he feels like it’s deserved, you know? Like, if he attended lecture for a class all week, he deserved to skip Friday’s lecture. As a treat.

He’s embarrassing. Endearing, but so embarrassing. Like, singing in the middle of the street embarrassing. Asking you to do a TikTok in public embarrassing. Why do you even love him.

Moves off-campus during junior year and rooms with Jean and Armin in three-bedroom house. So, he’s never actually lonely, but he’s a little crybaby and will whine to get to you to come over.

LOVES sleeping over at your place, though. Because you live with Annie and Mikasa, so your place is always clean and always smells good. Plus Mikasa and Annie are usually busy, which means you get more privacy at your place.

Mikasa honestly just starts making breakfast for Eren in the mornings when he does sleep over, and Annie is so unfazed by his presence.

Jumps at the opportunity to join in on your girls wine-night or skincare-routine night. So what if it’s him and three other girls drinking red wine with face masks on and talking about Anne Hathaway movies while playing Monopoly Deal? It leaves him pleasantly buzzed and his skin is absolutely glowing, suck his dick, Connie.

Likely doesn’t understand a thing about your major/program but listens enthusiastically when you talk about it anyways.

His lock screen is the only selfie he’s ever convinced you to take with him. (That’s okay because he has many screenshots of your snaps for safekeeping and blackmailing).

Tries to get you to exercise with him. If you’re into that, then great. If you’re not, it’s okay, he always has time to stop and take a mid-workout thirst trap to send your way. Because he’s annoying like that.

Once accidentally replied to the whole class instead of just the professor on an email asking him to be a g and bump his 89.9 to a 90. Embarrassing. (The prof did raise in the end tho, so maybe he really does have some charm to him).

Has to wear reading glasses when studying for a long time/or at his computer for a long time, and even though he doesn’t like them, you think he looks super cute in them; so he wears them more often than usual. 

Calls you asking for the most obscure school supplies/stationary. “Babe, hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare 4x8 poster board laying around now would you?” 

Mind you this is at, like, 3am, 12 hours before the poster board in question is due. 

Speaking of stationary, is an absolute little shit and steals your good pens. He’s partial to the sparkly ones, if he’s being honest. They make his notes look better, fuck you, Jean. 

“Eren, give me back my purple 0.4mm pen.” “I don’t know what that is, sorry.” “Eren, I can see it in your hand!” 

Brings you snacks while you’re studying. If you’re really trying to crack down and be serious, he won’t even bother you. Just bring the snacks, bring you water and boba, kiss your little forehead and be on his way.

Has a polaroid camera he got as a birthday gift, and uses it to sneak pictures of you whenever you’re not looking. He keeps the good ones hung up on a sponge board in his room.

He has a few.... riskier ones too, but those are for his eyes only.

Loves to pick out your nail color when you get your nails done. Honestly gets a little pouty when you don’t ask him lmaoo

Purposely leaves his clothes around so you can wear them. Isn’t subtle about it in the slightest. Sometimes leaves them with a note: “Please wear this, you’d look cute as fuck. Thank you. —Management.”

(slightly nsfw below)

Is not too proud to ask you for risqué snaps. Not necessarily full nudes, thought he doesn’t object to those.

Will literally give you hickeys out of boredom. Will pull you onto his lap and start kissing your neck because he has nothing better to do. Also because it leads to sex 7/10 times. The other 3 times, it’s because he falls asleep with his head in your neck lmaoo

Might have once fucked you with one of his lectures playing in the background, but you’ll never tell.

He really likes phone sex. He’s shit at being quiet, so he can only really do it when Jean and Armin are out of the house, but there’s something about only being able to hear your moans to get off that really does it for him.

He’s kind of goofy and absentminded sometimes, so sometimes you’ll be mid-sex and he’ll look at you like “Hey, did you finish your assignment, it’s due tomorrow right?”

And honestly, you kinda wanna be upset, but then you start thinking—“Did I finish my assignment?” And then you realize you did and nod and he’s like “Ok, cool,” kisses your forehead and resumes where you left off.

[miss-smutty]

Forbidden

Chapter 1

A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵

Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 1.5 K

Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, age gap

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts

Chapter 2

I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.

I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.

I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt. 

"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.

"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.

It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.

"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.

"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.

"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.

"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.

"What part of Australia are you from?"

"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America." 

"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though." 

"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?

"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.

I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.

"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.

"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

********

I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.

Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd

gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.

"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.

"What're you talking about?" 

"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."

"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.

"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.

I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.

"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me." 

"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.

"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."

"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?" 

"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine." 

"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.

"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."

"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."

"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.

There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Perceptive Blindness

Prompt: hi can i have some hurt/comfort lamp where virgil gets the others together and pines maybe? im feeling down and need to see virgil pining. ps i love all your fics (especially Is It Enough?)

Thanks to the nonny for this prompt! I hope it's what you wanted, I had fin with it. I love writing in Virgil's voice so much because I don't have to try and rein in my natural snark as much. 

Read on Ao3

Pairings: LAMP babeyy

Warnings: our buddy V has a panic attack but it’s not super explicit

Word Count: 4814

It should’ve been easy, right? To see it coming?

 Listen, Virgil’s job is to be observant, to pay attention to shit. Just because he’s notoriously, um, overreactive doesn’t mean he’s bad at paying attention. He sees a whole lot of shit and hey if you saw as much shit as Virgil did you’d be freaking out too, yeah? Okay, great, got that sorted.

 So. Here’s the thing.

When Roman starts sitting a little closer to Patton that he used to on the couch or offering to help him cook and clean when they all know Roman would rather do anything else, Virgil notices. When Roman starts getting up earlier and earlier so he can beat Patton down to the kitchen so they can do it together, Virgil notices. (It’s not like he sleeps, he notices this shit when there’s not supposed to be people up and at ‘em for another half-hour.)

 So yeah, maybe he sinks into Princey’s room one day and smirks when Roman startles terribly coming out of the bathroom.

 “Hey there, Princey.”

 “Don’t—goodness, Stormcloud,” Roman huffs, getting his balance back, “don’t do that. Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

 “You were in the bathroom, you wouldn’t have answered.”

 “How did you know I was—you know what, it doesn’t matter.” Roman shakes his head. “What do you want?”

“What, I can’t just pop my head in and say hi?”

 “I’ve never in my life heard you say ‘pop my head in’ and I never want to hear it again.”

 “That’s where you draw the line?”

 “Everyone has a line, Dark and Stormy.”

 Virgil shrugs, smiling when Roman glares at him for curling up on his bed. Which, alright fair.

 “So.”

 “You’ve yet to explain why you’re in my room,” Roman reminds, sounding less upset than confused.

 “Just thought I’d say hi.”

 “Yes, sure, that’s it.”

 “What, you don’t believe me?” Roman just stares at him. “Okay, okay, I...may have an ulterior motive.”

 “Aha!” Roman points at him victoriously. “I knew it! Now tell me, you fiend.”

 It’s only the slight uptick of Roman’s mouth that lets him know that’s probably supposed to be a term of endearment.

 “Oh, nothing much,” Virgil sighs, “just wondering about your sleeping habits.”

 “Considering you’re the only one in the Mindscape who gets less sleep than me, you’re in no position to—“

 “I’m not here to yell at you, Roman,” Virgil says quickly, relaxing a bit when Roman’s shoulders slump, “I just…you know, I hear you when you get up.”

 “That’s…kind of creepy.”

 “It’s my thing, Roman,” he sighs, “I pay attention to shit and it’s not like I’m asleep.”

 “I know, I know, I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you asking why I’ve been getting up earlier?”

 “Yup.”

 “It’s nothing bad, Virgil.”

 “Never said it was.”

 Roman sighs again, more dramatically this time, flouncing over to his desk, definitely not pouting. “Virgil…”

 “What? If it’s not bad, why don’t you wanna tell me?” Virgil’s eyes widen. “Ooh, is it a secret? Are you keeping secrets, Roman?”

 “Shut up!”

 “No!” Virgil lobs a pillow at him. “Tell me!”

 He ducks quickly when another one flies back at him.

 “Hey!”

 “You threw it first!”

 “Yeah, and!”

 “Gah!” Roman throws himself up out of his chair, trying to hide how red his face is. It’s not working. “What do you want?”

 “I told you, Princey,” Virgil grins, “I want to know why you’re getting up earlier and why you don’t want to tell me.”

 “Because I want to!”

 “And why do you want to?”

 “No,” Roman insists, pointing his finger at Virgil, “I told you, that’s what you wanted.”

 “Giving me the vaguest answer that doesn’t actually answer the question is not an answer.”

 Roman stares at him for a second. “We’ve said the word ‘answer’ too many times. It’s not a word anymore.”

 “Pity.” Virgil shrugs. “Guess you’re gonna have to just tell me.”

 “That’s not—how does—“ Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is not how this words. Works.”

 Virgil snickers.

 “Shut up.”

 “You’re so flustered, Princey. I haven’t seen you like this in ages.”

 “Leave me alone, Virgil.”

 The note of genuine irritation in Roman’s voice is enough to give Virgil pause. He slides off the bed and walks over to Roman, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

 “You mean that, Roman?”

 Roman looks at him from between his fingers, then looks away. “…no.”

 “Okay.” He bumps Roman with his elbow. “Sit down, Princey.”

 He winces when Roman lets his knees buckle and just collapses onto the floor.

 “I didn’t—okay fine.” Listen, Virgil has no respect for ‘normal’ sitting places at the best of times. He sits next to Roman and watches the prince worry at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Roman, you gotta—you’re gonna fuck them up.”

 “It’s fine,” Roman mutters absentmindedly, “I’ve done this before.”

 “…not exactly reassuring me here, dude.”

 “No, not—not this, I just meant the—my sleeves, they’re…they’re not…it’s fine.”

 Virgil nods, frowning as Roman starts to fidget a little more.

 “…Princey—“

 “It’s Patton,” Roman blurts, his face flushing even brighter, “I—that’s why I’m waking up earlier.”

 Something in Virgil’s chest twists.

 “I figured,” he says instead, bumping Roman’s shoulder again, “you, uh, you had that look about you.”

 “What look?”

 Virgil tilts his head a bit. “You…you do know what you look like when you’re in love, don’t you Princey?”

 If Roman’s eyes could go wider than when Virgil said he knew what was going on, well, they do.

“I—I’m—wait, what?”

 “You’re romance, aren’t you?” The corner of Virgil’s mouth tugs upward. “Passion, desire, romance, all of that, right?”

 “I am, but—“

 “You—alright, I gotta figure out a way to say this without being sappy as shit,” Virgil grumbles, looking away for a moment. “Okay, uh—you’re—there’s no way to say this and not sound absolutely ridiculous, but um…your color’s red, right?”

 Roman nods, still staring at him.

 “You…your eyes turn red, Roman,” Virgil mumbles, “like…you know how cartoon people get like…hearts in their eyes?”

 “I get literal heart-eyes?”

 “Kind of?” Virgil waves his hand. “You just—you’re—your irises go red and like…sparkly.”

 “They do?”

 “Have you seriously never noticed?”

 “No!” Roman looks like someone just told him Thomas got another Disney job or something. “I—oh my goodness, this is incredible! How can I see this!”

 “Here’s a tip,” Virgil snickers as Roman’s cheeks start to color again, “next time you’re in the kitchen with Patton or something, look at yourself in the mirror or something reflective right after you look at him.”

 “O-okay,” Roman mumbles, “okay, okay, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this—“

 “Hey—“ Virgil prods him— “you’re supposed to be downstairs in ten minutes anyway, just go now.”

 “Right!”

 “And…he’s gone,” Virgil sighs, getting up and sinking back to his own room. He pulls on his headphones and turns up the music.

 Had Roman…really never noticed his eyes did that? The dude’s had eyes for—well, as long as you have eyes for. Has he never looked at himself when he’s working before? Jeez, and here Virgil thought Roman was looking in a mirror every two seconds.

 Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s noticed something that none of the others did. But still, what with how…obvious Roman can be sometimes, had the others really never noticed this either?

 As it turns out, the answer is yes, but also no.

 They’re in the living room a few days later and Roman’s bouncing off the walls, as per usual, as Logan looks up every so often from his book, and Patton giggles. Virgil is decidedly not paying attention because of course he isn’t, curled up on the floor out of the way of Roman’s bouncing.

 “Watch where you’re going,” Logan scolds when Roman almost brains himself on the banister, “you’ll hurt yourself.”

 “Pfft,” Roman blusters, “I haven’t paid attention to a single thing in my entire life and I’ll be damned if I start now.”

 Virgil snorts. Patton makes a vague noise of concern. Logan just sighs.

 “Roman, you are clearly intelligent enough to demonstrate that you do pay attention to things.”

 “I dunno,” Virgil says, “he didn’t notice his heart-eyes when he’s in love until I told him about them.”

 Roman sticks his tongue out. Virgil sticks his out back. Then they notice that Logan and Patton are quiet.

 “Guys?”

 “Roman has what?” Logan closes his book. “I…I was also not aware of this.”

 “Hah!” Roman points at Virgil. “See, it’s not just me!”

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

 “Patton? Did you also know this?”

 “Y-yeah,” Patton manages, his voice strangely quiet, “I mean, I knew about Roman’s eyes, but…doesn’t he have that all the time? Not just when he’s in love?”

 Oh.

 Oh, shit.

 Roman freezes, his mouth opening and closing without making sounds. Logan looks quizzically back and forth between the two of them until Virgil clambers to his feet and knocks his elbow.

 “C’mon, L, let’s go somewhere else.”

 “Why?”

 “You’ll see.”

 Sure enough, after a few minutes of them walking away to give Roman and Patton some privacy, Logan makes a small ‘ah’ sound.

 “Yeah,” Virgil sighs, “took them long enough.”

 “I am pleased to say that this I did notice.”

 “Right?”

 “I mean it’s not like it isn’t obvious.”

 “That’s what I said.”

 “Honestly, did they believe we couldn’t see?”

 “I don’t think they knew until like, ten seconds ago.”

 “They truly are a bit oblivious, aren’t they?”

 “Oh, hell yeah.”

 Hey, you know how sickeningly adorable Patton and Roman are normally? You know how much more sickeningly adorable they got after this happened?

 Great.

 Now double that.

 Now you have like, some idea of what Virgil’s going through.

 Dates. Kisses. Flowers. Baking together. Sitting on top of each other. Whispers in the corner. Curled around a phone so tight they can’t tell whose legs are whose.

 All.

 The.

 Time.

 Is Virgil happy for them? Yes. Absolutely. Great for them. Is he also about to down a bottle of soy sauce to even out the amount of pure sugar he’s being forced to consume? Pass that salt factory over here, please, pronto. That’s probably why the feeling that twisted in his chest hasn’t gone away any.

 “Seriously,” Virgil huffs to Logan after the two of them vanish from the kitchen, “Thomas is gonna have so many cavities.”

 “That’s not how it works, Virgil.”

 “But it fucking could be.”

 “I must say I think this has had a…positive impact on Thomas,” Logan says instead, “that his heart and his ego are so…compatible.”

 Virgil snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

 “I suppose it makes sense.”

 “Yeah, yeah, it makes sense. Right brain boys, we get it. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I’m drowning in a gallon of vanilla syrup every time I walk into a fucking room.”

 “Alright, enough,” Logan says, giving Virgil a reprimanding look that’s just this side of too smiley to be effective, “I need more coffee.”

 “Ooh, get me some too?”

 “I have a better idea: why don’t you come with me?”

 Virgil groans. “But that requires moving. And effort.”

 “You have legs.”

 “But—“ Virgil wriggles down into the nice little divot in the couch cushions— “comfy.”

 Logan sighs, shaking his head in what might be fond exasperation. “Very well. Hold this.”

 “Okay,” Virgil mutters, taking Logan’s empty coffee mug, “what are you—hey!”

 Logan, because apparently none of them have noticed that he can apparently do this, simply tucks Virgil under his arm like a sack of potatoes, conveniently ignoring the fact that Virgil is, you know, a fucking heavy-ass person, and walks off toward the kitchen like this is absolutely fucking normal.

 “Do I even weigh anything to you?”

 “Your weight is not insubstantial.”

 Well, judging by the way Logan’s just walking, like a normal person, uh, it doesn’t seem like it.

 “How—since when—what?”

 “Articulate as always, Virgil,” Logan remarks, stride never faltering, “I do seek to maintain some level of physical fitness.”

 “Some level of—Logan, you’re carrying me like it’s nothing!”

 Logan glances down and raises an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

 Nope. Absolutely not. Not from this angle. Holy shit.

 “No,” Virgil squeaks, “no, nope. I’m good. No problems.”

 Logan hums and looks away, easily setting Virgil back on his feet once they get to the kitchen.

 Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine right now. Everything’s so fine. Everything’s so fine and good right now in the way that it’s happening. It’s never not been fine. Virgil’s never been more fine in his fucking life.

 Holy fuck.

 Okay, so Virgil was not observant enough to pick that up the first time around—get it? No? Fuck you, that was funny—but he does start noticing it more often. How Logan can just sigh and pick up the couch to grab his pencil, or how he never balks at having to put away the really heavy dishes that Patton struggles with. It’s—okay. Yep, he can deal with this. Totally.

 Virgil just sees a lot, okay?

 Which means that he can see how Roman and Patton react when they first realize how strong Logan is.

 Patton’s looking for something in the top of the cupboard, straining on his tiptoes. He sighs and starts to try and climb the counter.

 “Patton!” Logan rushes into the kitchen past Virgil who sits back to watch the show. “Don’t do that, you know how dangerous it is.”

 “I know, I know, but I can’t find the brown sugar, I think I pushed it back too far!”

 “Just get the step stool, you know where it is.”

 “But it takes so long to reorganize the closet to get it out,” Patton protests, “and I know where it is, it won’t take long.”

 “We do need to fix that, don’t we?” Logan sighs. “Alright. You say you know where it is?”

 “Yes! I can see it, I just can’t reach it.”

 “Alright. Ready?”

 “Ready for—oof!”

 Patton squeals when Logan just…picks him up and holds him by the cupboard, clutching Logan’s arms like he’s going to fall.

 “L-Logan!”

 “Can you reach it?”

 “Y-yeah, I can probably—oh my goodness, Lo, you’re strong!”

 “I’m not going to drop you, Patton, just grab the sugar.”

 “Okay, okay, I, um…” Patton fidgets, still clutching Logan’s hands. “Gosh!”

 “Patton? The sugar?”

 “R-right!” Patton pulls the bag of sugar out of the cupboard as Logan lowers him gently to the ground. “Wow, thanks, Logan!”

 “Of course. Though we really must get the closet reorganized, the step stool does not good if we can’t easily access it…”

 Virgil snickers as Logan goes off about the closet. He knows damn well Patton is not paying any attention to what he’s saying. He catches Virgil’s eyes and just mouths ‘wow!’

 Virgil responds with a shrug of ‘what can you do?’

 “Virgil?”

 “What’s up, L?” He cranes his neck back to peer up at Logan.

 “Patton has requested that we all come to stay in the kitchen,” Logan says, offering a hand to pull Virgil to his feet. Virgil briefly entertains the idea of making Logan pick him up again when he decides against it.

 “Okay…?”

 “Do you happen to know where Roman is,” Logan asks as he pulls Virgil up, “or no?”

 “I think he’s in the Imagination?”

 Logan rolls his eyes. “Then you may as well come with me. We’ll have a better chance of finding him.”

 Virgil tips Patton a lazy two-fingered salute as they make their way up the stairs. Sure enough, the bright red door to the Imagination is ajar, and as Logan steps through, Virgil spots a castle, a briar garden, and many many cloud fortresses above.

 “Well,” Logan huffs as Virgil closes the door, “he’s not running out of energy any time soon.”

 “Good.”

 “Quite.” Logan glances around. “Well, we’d better start looking.”

 Virgil’s about to agree when he hears something whistling above him. He looks up and squints.

 He takes two steps to the left.

 “Virgil?” Logan turns around. “What’re you doing?”

 In response, Virgil just points up.

 Logan follows his finger, his expression changing from one of confusion to that familiar fond exasperation again. Virgil expects him to glance around for something soft, or squishy, or at the very least move out of the way.

 Instead, Logan simply sighs, takes two steps closer, and holds out his arms…

 …and catches Roman effortlessly in a princess carry.

 “Hello, Roman,” Logan says like he didn’t just fucking do that, “Patton wants everyone downstairs.”

 “I don’t think Roman’s got speech right now, L,” Virgil snickers.

 Indeed, Roman—which, hang on, let’s preface this by saying this is a reasonable reaction, okay? Logan just fucking caught him after falling from god knows how high like he weighs less than a fucking pillow, this is not something that just happens—is staring open-mouthed at Logan, panting heavily, frozen in Logan’s arms. Logan tilts his head.

 “Roman? Are you okay?”

 Virgil snorts when Roman suddenly flails and tries to struggle out of Logan’s arms.

 “Roman,” Logan says sternly and holy fuck, “if you want me to put you down I will, but if you do that you’re going to hurt yourself.”

 “Yep,” Roman squeaks, “you can—you can put me down, I can walk, you can put me down.”

 “There we go.” Logan puts him down only for Roman to quickly brush himself off and dart toward the door. “Where are you going?”

 “Patton! Downstairs! Forgot! Bye!”

 “Well, he seems to be in a hurry,” Logan sighs, adjusting his glasses, only to frown at Virgil when Virgil just bursts out laughing. “What?”

 “No, no, you gotta—holy shit!” Virgil doubles over, still cackling. “Oh my god, his face.”

 “I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Logan says a moment later when Virgil’s wiping tears from his eyes, “did I do something wrong?”

 The concerned question sobers Virgil, at least enough to stop dying. “No, no, L, you’re fine. Roman’s just…having a moment.”

 “Because he forgot about Patton’s request,” Logan nods, “and does not wish to offend him.”

 “…yeah, that’s it.”

 “Well,” Logan says, dusting himself off, “let’s not be late too, hmm?”

 “Sure, L.”

 Logan might not know why Roman and Patton are muttering furiously to each other and spring apart the second they appear around the end of the stairs, but Virgil does. He just chuckles and winks and settles in to watch a dinner of the three of them being absolutely idiots.

 It’s fine.

 It’s so fine.

 It’s probably because he was laughing so hard that his chest still hurts.

 This lasts for like a week, and Virgil’s fucking face hurts from laughing at their fucking faces and trying to hide how hard he’s fucking laughing. And yeah okay Virgil’s in no position to judge, he’s got no idea how ridiculous he looked when he got jump scared by Logan’s freaky strength.

 And it’s just not fucking fair because if it was Roman, they’d all expect it. He’d be sweeping them off their feet every two seconds and they’d be used to it by now. If it were Patton, he’d just pick them up and hug them and be the best dad ever and that would be great. But no, it’s Logan.

 Logan who’s…Logan. Who can calm them all down better than anyone else but also has that sharp-as-hell tongue and quick wit that runs circles around them. Fuck. He’s just—gah.

 Okay, at least Virgil’s not alone here. He’s seen Patton fumble through his words around a surprisingly patient Logan for ages now, and watched Roman stand way too close to Logan too. And yeah, okay, he’s seen the way Logan looks at them too.

 So much so that he bites the bullet one day and sighs, tugging Logan out of the living room and to his room.

 “Virgil? What’s going on?”

 “What’s going on,” Virgil sighs, “is that if I have to look at you pining over them for one more second I am going to scream.”

 Logan, to his credit, doesn’t try and deny it. Instead, he simply adjusts his tie and glasses, studiously avoiding Virgil’s gaze. “I suppose it really is that obvious.”

 “To me, yeah, to those two, not so much.”

 “I will get over this, I’m working on it.”

 “God, no, L, that’s not what I—“ Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just talk to them, okay?”

 “Are you certain? But you’d be…okay with this?”

 Virgil levels a stare at him. “Dude, have you not seen how they look at you?”

 “…no?”

 “What is it like for you guys? It must be so boring.”

 “I can assure you,” Logan says wryly, “I can see perfectly well.”

 “Sure, Specs.”

 “Alright, that’s enough.”

 “Yeah, uh-huh. Sure.”

 “Virgil!”

 “No, no, I’m just saying it’s interesting that—“

 “That’s enough.”

 Virgil gulps. “Mhmm. Okay. Yep. Got it.”

 He wisely does not go into the living room for the rest of the day.

 There’s a lot Virgil sees. He sees the way Logan makes two extra mugs of coffee, sits just so on the couch, touches the small of Roman’s back or the crook of Patton’s shoulder. He sees the way Roman smiles when he looks at Patton the way he doesn’t smile any other time, wraps his arms tightly around Logan’s waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder, keeps his door cracked a little more than usual. He sees the way Patton fusses over the cookies, making sure they’ve always got Roman’s chips and Logan’s pretzels stocked, walks in the middle of the two of them with their hands swinging.

 He sees a lot.

 And, uh…he realizes something.

 Remember that, uh, funny feeling in his chest that he totally thought was from somewhere else?

 Listen, just because he sees a lot of stuff doesn’t mean he’s the best at recognizing it.

 So yeah. He’s, uh…

 You know.

 Don’t make him say it.

 As it turns out, that can make you blind to certain things. When he’s hyper-focusing on the things he knows he’s going to see, he doesn’t really have the space to realize there’s a whole host of things he doesn’t see.

 He doesn’t see the way Patton’s smile drops when Virgil declines his invitation to movie night, saying he doesn’t wanna crash or invade. He doesn’t notice the way Roman makes a point to ask permission to hug Virgil too, cradling him with a tenderness he doesn’t notice that he’s only seen for the others. He doesn’t realize how much Logan’s behavior toward him is how Logan treats Roman and Patton now.

 He doesn’t notice much past the ache in his chest.

 Then he has a panic attack on their date night and the pain sharpens to an unbearable whine.

 They’re not coming. They’re not coming. There’s no one here to help him, he’s alone, he’s always going to be alone, in the dark, in the shadows, away from the light. They’re not worrying about him, why would they? They’ve got each other, they don’t need him, they’ve never needed him, not like he needs them, he’s—he’s all alone, he doesn’t have anyone, no one wants him, he’s going to die like this. He’s alone. It’s cold. The cold is painful. His chest burns from how cold it is. He can’t breathe, it’s so cold.

 “Virgil?”

 No one is here, no one is coming.

 “Roman, can you—?”

 Something bangs in the distance.

 “Virgil!”

 Strong arms wrap around him and pull him into something warm. More strong arms cover his hands and gently pry them away from his face. Something soft rubs his face and strokes over his back.

 “I need you to breathe with me, kiddo, come on…”

 “We’re right here, Stormcloud, you just calm down now.”

 “It’s okay, Virgil, everything is okay.”

 They’re…here?

 No, no, no, they’re not supposed to be here, it’s their date night, they—oh, god they’re missing their date night for him and he’s ruining it and they’re going to hate him now and—and—

 “Shh, shh,” comes Logan’s voice from somewhere above him, “hush now, Virgil, it’s alright. We’ve got you.”

 “You’re safe, sweetheart,” Patton coos, “I promise. You just sit with Logan for a minute, okay?”

 “I’m—I’m so—sor—sorr—“

 “None of that, shadowling,” Roman murmurs, brushing—wait, what?—brushing his lips over the back of Virgil’s shaking hand, “it’s not your fault.”

 The ache in Virgil’s chest expands and collapses in on itself again.

 Logan makes a comforting noise, tugging Virgil gently this way and that until he’s square in Logan’s arms, his head pillowed in the crook of Logan’s neck. Roman’s hand cards through his hair. Patton taps the 4-7-8 rhythm gently on his arm.

 “Virgil, honey?” Patton reaches up to dab at his damp cheek when he mumbles a full apology. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

 “Yeah,” Virgil manages, “y-you can go now, ‘m sorry.”

 Roman chuckles. “If you think we’re leaving you, little demon, you’ve got another thing coming.”

 “B-but you—“

 “Shh, shh,” Roman says quickly when Virgil’s breathing starts to pick up again, “take it easy, V, it’s okay, we’re not in a hurry.”

 “It’s your date night,” Virgil blurts, the words clumsy and too loud in his mouth, “you—you shouldn’t have to be here. W-with—“

 “…with,” Patton prompts gently, “with what, kiddo?”

 “…with me.”

 “Oh, kiddo…”

 “If you think,” Roman says quietly, “that we’d rather be anywhere else than right here, with you, at any time, you’re sorely mistaken, V.”

 Wait.

 What?

 “B-but we’re—you’re—I’m not—“

 “Not what, kiddo?”

 “…yours.”

 Saying it out loud punctures his chest again. Tears well up in his eyes as he buries his face shamefully in Logan’s neck.

 “…oh my god,” he hears Roman say faintly, “it happened!”

 “But I thought we—we were being more obvious!”

 “I know! I thought we were too! But this happened! It’s just like the stories, oh my goodness—“

 “Oh, kiddo…”

 Virgil can’t process any of that right now, thank you very much, because he’s currently hiding in Logan’s embrace and would rather never emerge again.

 If he had, well, he may have been a little more prepared for Logan to cup his face with one hand and pull back enough to look him in the eyes.

 “Virgil,” Logan whispers, “we thought you already were.”

 Stop.

 Wait.

 Pause.

 Go back.

 Rewind.

 “What?”

 “Surely you’ve noticed, kiddo, haven’t you?” Patton squeezes his arm. “We love you, Virgil.”

 “B-but—you—“

 “Stormcloud,” Roman whispers, brushing his lips over Virgil’s cheek, “we do, and you’re ours as much as you’d like to be.”

 “I—I—Logan—“

 “Patton’s right,” Logan says, still cupping Virgil’s face as he wipes away stray tears, “to be honest, I….well, I thought you and I were in a relationship long before Patton and Roman.”

 “You what?”

 In response, Logan leans forward and kisses Virgil’s forehead.

 “You don’t think I’d do that for just anyone,” he whispers, too quiet for the others to hear, “do you?”

 Hello, yes, hi, Virgil has precisely zero idea what’s going on right now, so uh, if everyone could just hold the fuck on for two seconds it would be greatly appreciated.

 “Aww, Left Brain boys!”

 “Shh!”

 Virgil isn’t interrupting date night.

 The others care about him.

 The others love him.

 The others want him to be a part of their family.

 Logan thought they were in a relationship already.

 “Shh, shh,” Logan shushes, his thumb stroking Virgil’s shaking cheek, “you don’t have to say anything right now, darling. This is a lot, I’m sure.”

 “Logan’s right.” Roman ruffles Virgil’s hair. “We’ll be here for you, Stormcloud.”

 “And that’s a promise.”

 Yeah, Virgil’s brain is way too fried by all of this to process any of it. But he does know that Roman’s hand in his hair is warm and soft and perfect. He knows that Patton’s murmuring something quietly that’s lulling him right to sleep. He knows that Logan is still holding him tightly, his lips pressed to his forehead, whispering how much they love him.

 “Go to sleep, darling,” Logan whispers, “we’ll be here when you wake up.”

 “…rude?”

 “You’re not being rude, kiddo, promise.”

 “Close your eyes,” Roman calls softly, his fingers scratching around Virgil’s head, “and you’ll see, Stormcloud.”

 As Virgil’s eyes drift closed, maybe…maybe they’re right.

 Maybe it’ll be a little easier to see that way.

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[goofgoofdildo]

I asked @goldandlights Ages ago if I could write a ficlet based on their post about Jaskier and Geralt both thinking the other doesn’t like touching them, and then I was suddenly busy doing volunteering work and hurting my knee so I only coughed up this now. I wrote it in a daze so not sure of the quality, but I wanted to keep my word that I would write something. read the tags also ig.

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Geralt watches Jaskier’s sparkly eyes scan the crowd. They catch on a man in his twenties, with strong arms visible inside his rolled-up sleeves. He’s tall and lean, weight rested on the support beam as he stands by and smiles along. Jaskier winks at him, and Geralt looks into his soup, which has grown cold, showing Geralt’s sour expression reflected back at him from between circles of solidifying fat. 

Jaskier has told him, voice so gentle. He had sidled up to him, close enough to feel the heat but not touch, and said, ‘You know, when I perform, I sell everything. It’s a performance, and. I flirt with people a lot, but it doesn’t mean anything, you know? It’s just to get them to pay more, so we have coin?’ And Geralt thought he should say something, but he didn’t. ‘Anyway,’ Jaskier sighed and pressed on, ‘you can tell me to stop, I won’t mind at all, this just makes it better for us, but I can stop, if you say so.’ Jaskier touched his hand on the bed back then, the skin of his palm feeling like a blessing, and Geralt would have given him anything. 

He almost told him he wouldn’t mind if Jaskier took a lover, really, it was okay, Geralt didn’t have a problem with it. It wasn’t as if Geralt had ever been in a relationship that exclusive. It was stupid, he knew, because that wasn’t what Jaskier was asking. He was just asking for permission to do his job, to do it well. Jaskier felt so devoted to the relationship, that he even considered asking Geralt for permission for something so futile. And Geralt never minded, really. It was easy to say yes, he wasn’t some horrible brute that would insist on controlling every Jaskier’s move and conversation. After all, a wink or two equalled to nothing, especially not when it was him who Jaskier fell into bed with in the night. And even if he were a man inclined towards such possessiveness, there was no reason for him to worry, not when Jaskier had only been with him ever since this started. As his eyes remain locked on his sweaty, glowing lover, he thinks back to the night in Vizima. 

They’d pushed on to make it into the city, even though a storm and the accompanying darkness had been chasing them. When they made it into an inn, they were all thoroughly soaked. It reduced Geralt to short grunts, Jaskier into a mess of chattering teeth, and Roach huffed indignantly every time Geralt tried to spur her faster on. 

In an inn packed with wet travellers, getting a horrible, drafty and creaky nook of a room was a clear win, they both knew this, but it didn’t stop Jaskier from shivering violently. Watching him stuff his fingers tinged blue with cyanosis into his armpits in a vain attempt to warm up, water dripping from his face onto the dusty floor, Geralt felt, not for the first time, a guilt wash over him. This was his doing. He selfishly let Jaskier come along with him, and when he did, Geralt failed to take proper care of him.

He told Jaskier to undress. All of his clothes were wet, as he insisted on keeping them up top in the pack so as to avoid wrinkleage. Geralt told him to dry his hair with the shirt of his that survived the rain. It was the one he slept in, pushed to the bottom of the bag. It took Jaskier dropping the shirt thrice for Geralt to help him very gently dry his hair. 

Jaskier ended up in Geralt’s last clean shirt, wrapped in their spare blanket on top of the flimsy quilt found on the bed. Geralt hoped that once warm, Jaskier would fall asleep fast, at least, to end his shivery suffering. But watching him writhe on the bed, curled in on himself, as Geralt kneaded his rolled-up bedroll in his hands, it became very clear that Jaskier was not getting very warm. Geralt cleared his throat. Jaskier barely ever touched him. Sure, he washed his hair, he stitched his wounds. Jaskier saw that Geralt needed a massage and he provided it, his hot hands on Geralt’s back a revelation. But Geralt had made it clear that he needed no-one. So all of those things, Jaskier’s services, well. They couldn’t have been anything but insurance that Geralt would keep him. For some reason, Jaskier wanted to follow him, and Geralt wasn’t strong enough to let him know he had never had to earn his place. How he desperately wanted Jaskier to stay. He was constantly worried about scaring him off, too, about crossing a boundary beyond repair. And maybe that line would prove to be a hand on his cheek, or maybe a look at his blackened eyes. Geralt constantly felt like he was teetering on the edge of eternal doom of not being able to ever see Jaskier again. 

But then, Jaskier was hidden in a pile of blankets and that pile was still shaking violently. 

‘Jaskier?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you,’ he bit his tongue, ‘I shou—just. What if I held you?’

‘What?’

Fuck. ‘To keep you warm.’

Jaskier’s head peeked out of the blankets and a hand held them open until Geralt dropped the bedroll he’d been wringing with his hands. Once Geralt sat on the bed, he waited for Jaskier to position himself however he wanted. He seemed so scared, so hesitant, and Geralt was about to get out, take it back, but then his bard braced his thighs with his legs, knees by Geralt’s hips. 

‘This okay?’ he said in a tiny voice. Geralt nodded earnestly. And then Jaskier plopped into his lap, as if it was nothing. He drew the blankets over them and wrapped his hands around Geralt’s torso. Jaskier’s dead-cold feet tucked themselves in the hollows behind Geralt’s knees as his legs lay stretched on the bed. It stretched around him, enveloping and consuming, the weight of the other body. It pinned him in place. He breathed hard as his arms slowly made their way around Jaskier’s torso. Jaskier wriggled closer, arms tightening around him, and then a thumb dipping under his shirt, touching skin. It sent a shock through Geralt’s body that he had trouble not showing. The thumb stroked that tiny bit of skin. ‘Can I put my hands here?’ Jaskier whispered, his head pressed sideways into the space between Geralt’s arm and chest. He nodded. Jaskier’s horribly icy hands pressed into Geralt’s back, the touch warming him nonetheless. Jaskier lifted on his knees to press even closer, and when he sat back down, Geralt first felt his nose press into his chest, Jaskier’s ear now so close to his heart that Geralt got worried he might hear the way it was slowly picking up speed, when he felt the second thing, that being Jaskier’s unclothed cock press against his own through his breeches as the bard sought to steal as much heat from him as possible. It made it so much obvious how vulnerable Jaskier was making himself. Oh, how precious the cargo in his lap was. How close, yet not enough. 

When Geralt tightened his arms around Jaskier and sunk his back a bit lower to settle in for the night, Jaskier’s hands started making patterns on his lower back. Jaskier’s belly dragged along Geralt’s as he shifted to reach Geralt’s ear. ‘Thank you, Geralt,’ he whispered, his nose pressed behind Geralt’s ear. It made him shiver, that sweet breath on his skin, the tingling feeling left by a nose dragged along the curve of his neck until Jaskier’s cheek rested on his shoulder. Geralt moved a hand into Jaskier’s hair in response, carding through the strands reverently. It was soft even now, wet and tangled. Geralt thought of how much he liked it when Jaskier washed his hair, tried pressing the tips of his fingers into Jaskier’s scalp. Massaging it gently. ‘mm, Geralt,’ Jaskier grunted, but before Geralt could worry he was doing it wrong, Jaskier was pressing closer still, nosing at his neck once more. Geralt kept up the pressure, his other hand rubbing at Jaskier’s back to help him relax. The hands on his back picked up the pace, now warmer. A set of clipped fingernails ghosted along Geralt’s spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Geralt’s head tipped back, air leaving his lips in the shape of ‘Jaskier’. ‘Mhmm?’ was Jaskier’s response muttered against Geralt’s neck. Geralt’s fingers in his hair tightened their grip, and then a pair of dry lips pressed gently into his collarbone. Geralt inhaled sharply. 

‘Geralt?’ Jaskier shifted to look at him. 

‘Yeah?’

Jaskier pressed another dry kiss into the corner of Geralt’s mouth, ‘Geralt,’ and he stayed close, his breath on Geralt’s cheek. 

Geralt chased that mouth, ’Jaskier.’ And then he kissed Jaskier, gently at first, but then Jaskier whined in the back of his throat and pressed closer, his cock hardening against Geralt’s stomach and that knowledge, that Geralt was making Jaskier aroused, was intoxicating. Geralt licked into his mouth, pulling him in by his hair. Jaskier’s hand was now holding his jaw, drawing in him hungrily, sucking on his lower lip. His nails were making patterns into his back and Jaskier kept making all those sounds, like he was having the time of his life. Geralt’s world changed in that moment, with the knowledge that he could be touched like that. 

At the time, when Jaskier first touched his cock, when he took his fingers and pressed them inside himself until Geralt got the hint, Geralt gave little thought to what it would mean for them. He lay Jaskier down, because Jaskier wanted him to, needed him to, and he fucked him. He touched Jaskier, relishing in every contact of skin on skin. It was a gift, to him, that he could do it, and something in the earth shifted every time Jaskier’s tongue licked into his mouth, every time he thrust back onto his cock. The world shifted on its axis. They fell asleep together, Jaskier wrapped around the Witcher’s back, stroking his bicep. Gently. Lovingly.

He wasn’t there in the morning. Jaskier turned away from him, curled in on himself on the tiny bed, even though it was still so cold. He must have been cold. Geralt didn’t dare touch him. 

They didn’t talk about it. Geralt was on a hunt while Jaskier entertained the guests in the tavern, and when he came back, there already was a bath arranged for him. Jaskier helped him bathe, rubbed a salve on his bruised side, put him to bed, and left to perform the rest of what he glamorously called a set. 

Geralt couldn’t fall asleep that night, his mood soured. He’d thought he’d learned his lesson of not getting his hopes up. But secretly, in private, he could admit he was a foolish man. A romantic, Jaskier would say. 

He remembers his mood only picking up the next day after the skies had cleared. The day turned out to be pleasantly warm and by the time they laid out their campsite, they’d made good time on the road, and managed to carry a normal conversation. They didn’t touch the whole time. Had dinner on opposite sites of the camp, even though they smiled at each other warmly. But now that Geralt knew what it felt like to touch Jaskier, he desperately longed for it. He excused himself and went to refill their water skins that they’d emptied after dinner. The sun was slowly setting as he was coming back. It caught on Jaskier by the fire, made his hair shine. 

When Geralt got closer, he saw Jaskier had laid out their bedrolls next to each other, like always, not shying away, and it brought him some peace. They both started settling in, Geralt checking around the campsite for anything Jaskier could have forgotten to do, just out of habit. When he finally turned to the bedrolls to settle in, he saw Jaskier put away his lute and look at him, a warm smile on his lips, his eyes piercing. Geralt’s throat went dry. 

Jaskier was on the bedrolls only in his shirt, clothes folded neatly on the side. He was sitting on his heels, hairy thighs spread wide, off-white shirt pooling at his crotch where the hand holding an instrument just seconds ago now disappeared to rest idly. Geralt had no idea what was happening. He wanted to tell Jaskier to touch himself, for christ’s sake. He wanted to ask if he’d been bewitched, even though he hadn’t let him out of sight the whole time. He wanted those lips on his. 

And he got that, but not before Jaskier let him fuck his throat. And then after the kissing, they tumbled onto their bedrolls, bodies plastered together, and Jaskier fucked himself on Geralt’s cock until he came on it, like he didn’t turn away from him in the night, like there was nothing odd about this. He didn’t let him pull out, either, his forehead pressed into Geralt’s chest, sitting on his softening cock, Jaskier repeated ‘Thank you. Thank you,’ until his breathing calmed down.  

Geralt didn’t know what he was thanking him for, but as he held Jaskier in his arms that night, grazing his bare shoulder with his lips, legs intertwined, he thought, I can live like this. If he could only hold Jaskier in the night, when the lust rode over the part of Jaskier’s brain that was repulsed by affection from a white-haired Witcher, then Geralt could live through the cold light of day. 

He knew he looked like all the things Jaskier had been told to fear, but as the man himself had said, they also made him interesting. But it was clearly a different thing to write a song about his wondrous yellow eyes, and to look into them as the Witcher touched him. 

Geralt is very old. He has the white hair of an old man. Maybe Jaskier despises the way the strands slide over Geralt’s pale skin in the harsh light of day, making him look gaunt like the dead. Or maybe the touch of a hand scarred with the taking of lives of creatures is too much for him. Geralt eats raw meat, sometimes. It’s easier. But maybe it disgusts Jaskier. Maybe it scares him. Geralt had never even considered that his breath might smell bad because of this, before they started fucking. He had never thought to rub oil into his skin for fear that Jaskier might find the scarred skin of his back much too rough for comfort, too easily reminded of the way Geralt got the scars, in the first place. 

Or maybe it’s just his face. His nose has been broken many times, after all. It sits a bit wonkily on his face. And his scar disturbs the skin, reminiscent in shape of his pupils. Out of all the things Jaskier grew up around, only cats and snakes have yellow eyes like that.

Geralt, watching himself in a bowl of soup, feels every bit the wretched creation of a misguided experimenter that he is. If he can only have Jaskier in the night, then that’s a blessing, and a miracle. If Jaskier can’t bear to be with him like that outside of bed, that’s okay. Geralt can’t compare in any regard to the blacksmith with shiny tight curls of chestnut hair on his head, can’t beat the sweet smile of a flirtatious barmaid. He wonders if, when Jaskier asked if they were to take other lovers, if he really meant to suggest that Geralt find someone else alongside Jaskier, so the burden of comforting Geralt wouldn’t only rest on him. But Jaskier said he would not take anyone else, maybe out of misguided loyalty, and Geralt felt it was polite to promise the same. And then, it almost made it feel like they truly belonged to each other, like this was a real thing Geralt could have. 

So when Jaskier finishes his set and makes his way over to Geralt, sitting beside him, but hesitating to touch his hand even as he reaches out, at first, Geralt tells himself he’s thankful for this. He wants this, this is good. He’s a Witcher and having Jaskier like this would prove dangerous for both of them. He pulls away from Jaskier and settles further into the corner of their bench. 

Jaskier, now hunched over his own steaming bowl of broth, watches Geralt move out of the corner of his eye. His hands tremble with grief for touch he can’t have right now. He wonders what that smells like to Geralt. Maybe like security, like understanding. And Jaskier does understand that Geralt has boundaries, and he respects them, it pleases him to know that Geralt likes him enough to show him how far he can go, and lets him make it right up to the line. He holds him in the night, after they fuck. Sometimes, he feels Geralt’s lips on his shoulder when he shakes from a post-orgasm forty winks. Jaskier tucks those touches into the bottom of his heart, where nobody will ever see how much he wants them. How he wants so much more, yet would never ask. 

He knows Geralt lets some people touch him in everyday, non-utilitarian ways. He has seen him and his brothers, clutching arms and punching chests, holding hands, even. Geralt says they sometimes fall asleep in a heap by the fire in winter. But clearly, that requires an amount of trust that he hasn’t reached yet. It’s okay. 

Jaskier watches Geralt in that corner. His hair is mussed quite badly, his cheekbones highlighted by the way dust has settles in the hollow of his cheeks, and Jaskier absentmindedly raises his hand to call over the barkeep so he can request a bath for their room. They haven’t looked for contracts, yet, it’s way too late for that, so they might even fuck tonight. Here’s to hoping the bed isn’t ridden with lice, he thinks. 

The barkeep saunters over, giving him a cheeky grin. She’s beautiful, with round cheeks and a sharp nose. There are laugh lines around her eyes, a roughness to her hands, and a sparkle in her eye. She has been calling the owner her husband the whole time, but flirted with Jaskier nonetheless, clearly enjoying the attention, although he suspects it’s all just talk. He likes her. She places a hand on the table in front of him, leaning on it, and he slips a hand on her waist. He laughs when her eyes sparkle and fully expects the little swat of the washcloth across his knuckles that she delivers with a playful stomp of her foot. 

‘Careful now, bard, or I might become utterly besotted with you, and whatever will my husband do, when he finds you in my chambers?’ 

Jaskier laughs, his head thrown back, ‘Well, dear lady, we might just have to find out!’

Geralt drops his spoon into the earthen bowl with a surprisingly loud clatter. His jaw is tightly set, even though he looks up with an apology in his eyes and resumes his eating. 

The barmaid’s smile dwindles, but then comes back to her, this time in the form of a soft curl of her lip. ‘Well, it’s all just talk anyway, bard. I’m too old for you, and you’re too inexperienced for me!’ she exclaims, and then lets Jaskier tell her his order. She pats his shoulder as she goes.

Geralt’s eyes are closed now, as he rests his head back in the corner of the wall. He’s all tensed up. Jaskier reaches out a tentative finger to trace along Geralt’s pointer finger where his hand rests on the bench. Geralt’s breath hitches. ‘Forgive me,’ he says, and draws his hand back. Jaskier swallows his hurt. He wants to touch so badly, but instead, he draws into himself. ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Geralt,’ he pushes out and stuffs his face with the broth. 

The bathwater is cold, as was to be expected, Jaskier supposes, but there is a hearth next to it, and the room looks very nice, actually. Candles are burning in arrangements of two and three in their holders, illuminating the room very well. Perhaps this is the lovely barkeep’s way of apologising to Geralt for what he saw as infringing on his territory. Jaskier reminds himself to be less generous with his affections, next time. With another lover, he could hold them, touch them in a show of affection to ward of the sting of jealousy, but he supposes it is different with Geralt. 

Jaskier looks into the water as Geralt undresses, making ripples on it with his little finger. He’s already added the little scented oil they had left. Geralt can smell it in the air, and it calms him a little, but he still moves with a weight holding him down, guilt dripping off of his limbs in invisible thick streaks. He wishes he could just tell Jaskier to go find the barmaid again. He wants to tell him he doesn’t need to keep doing him the service of bathing him, doesn’t need to watch him rub his skin back into gaunt paleness in this bright candlelight. But then, Jaskier smiles at him tentatively, like this might be the last thing holding him here, and Geralt once again remembers that, at the core, he is a weak man. So he goes and dips into the water, watching Jaskier turn once he’s in. As if it’s somehow better to see only his chest and face clearly. 

Jaskier lathers a washcloth up with soap while Geralt dutifully scrubs at his face. He lets the cloth hover just above Geralt’s shoulder, asks, ‘May I?’ And Geralt nods courtly, displeased already that he can’t just tell Jaskier to fuck off if he doesn’t want to do this. He wants it so much, though, that he’s willing to cling to this. 

He lets Jaskier wash him, run the cloth across his chest, his back. Jaskier massages his scalp with practiced fingers as he washes his hair. Geralt allows himself to stop thinking about them, about the man that is presently seeing to his aching back, and just focus on the sensation of being touched, gently. Being taken care of, even if out of perceived necessity. Jaskier hums a little melody under his breath, washing the back of Geralt’s neck, and Geralt wants to make home inside this moment, but only until he feels bare skin gently press against his shoulder. 

Jaskier’s hand moves up and down a couple of times. ‘Okay?’ he asks, as if Geralt would ever ask for more. He nods nonetheless, and Jaskier’s hands start mapping his shoulders, massaging gently where he feels a tense muscle. Geralt’s hands ball into fists under the surface of the water as he tries to hold back content groans. He doesn’t want to sound like a fucking animal, not when all they’re doing is bathing and touching lightly. 

Jaskier stops humming when his hands breach the surface of the water to rub at Geralt’s tummy. He throws his head back and finds himself almost cheek to cheek with Jaskier, who’s smiling lightly and breathing more easily than he has the entire time they’ve been in town. It unsettles Geralt greatly. 

‘The bed seems nice,’ Jaskier whispers into his hair. It makes goosebumps appear along Geralt’s arms, and the low growl underneath Jaskier’s usual tone makes his gut clench. He thinks Jaskier might even be able to feel it. He makes himself nod, yes, he want to satisfy Jaskier. That’s what this is about, after all, although he suspects the pleasure really is his, and not Jaskier’s, especially with those fingers tracing circles into his skin at the hip. He nods a couple more times, just to make sure Jaskier has caught the answer, and the touch finally disappears. 

‘Alright then, I’ll leave you,’ Jaskier sighs as he stands up, and leaves for the bed in the other room. The water seems to turn colder the minute Jaskier withdraws his touch. Geralt tells himself to cheer up. He can earn it, tonight. He can hold Jaskier until the morning, clutch onto his body like a drowning man, and he’ll be okay in the morning. 

When Geralt makes it into their room, there are candles lit in every corner, and the bed has got a blanket and a heavier quilt on it, too, which are both certainly luxuries, for Jaskier and his standards. Jaskier isn’t there, he’s probably taking a leak outside or making sure the bath is drained and taken care of, so Geralt sits on the bed and waits. He opts to keep his shirt on, but he doesn’t keep his breeches, studying a scar from a week ago that is now healed on his thigh. Jaskier tended to that, it healed so nicely. But there are some uglier ones, turning skin into a sort of thick shell. The one on his face feels like that, too. 

There is a polished piece of silver by one of the candlesticks, reflecting light back into the room and away from the wall. Geralt thinks back to the barmaid. She must be behind this, how good the rooms look. He regrets letting himself snap like that. 

The mirror keeps looking at him, so he rises from the bed, checking the door with a glance, and takes it. He sits back, the mirror on his thighs, and looks. He’s always been like this, or so it feels like. But ever since that first night with Jaskier, or maybe the morning, something has changed. He tries to see himself the way Jaskier sees him. He studies the reflection, baring his teeth. They’re a bit yellowish, he will admit. And sharp. He knows how to kiss and suck with them, but he knows Jaskier can feel them. And there’s fuzz peeking out of his shirt, which Jaskier seems to like, except in the light, one can see how terribly pale it is. It clashes with his bright eyes, his knotty hair. He must look and feel like an oversized stray cat. 

He’s still looking when Jaskier comes in. His strong back comes into view clad in a black shirt, white hair splayed over his shoulder blades. Jaskier thinks he looks lovely like this, half-undressed and soft from the bath. Geralt doesn’t even register him coming in, he’s so engrossed in whatever he’s studying on his thighs. Maybe he’s looking at his scars, as he’s recently started doing more frequently. It worries Jaskier, but he doesn’t know how to ask. 

Jaskier undressed on his way to Geralt, already delighted at the amount of light in the room. They’ve been fucking for months now and he hasn’t had the chance yet to really look at Geralt in this much light. Fucking glorious. 

He climbs onto the bed behind his witcher, hands hovering, keen to touch. But he’s not preoccupied with studying his own thighs for scarring. There’s a mirror on his thighs, reflecting the stoic face of the White Wolf back at them. 

‘Jaskier.’ He says, grip going white-knuckled on the mirror. Geralt is rarely startled. 

Jaskier points his chin at the now slightly raised mirror and Geralt’s gaze follows. They are both now in the reflection, one hair of white hair, long, the other short and brown and messy. One gaze warm, the other fresh. They go amazingly together. Jaskier smiles a little smile while Geralt stares. 

‘What are you thinking about?’ Jaskier says, dropping his gaze. It feels too heavy to hold it on their shared reflection right next to Geralt’s unyielding eyes. 

There is silence for a long while, and Jaskier studies Geralt’s thighs for him, since he’s busy looking in the mirror. There are a couple gashes on there that he was there for. He starts looking over them, the ones he knows by heart, when Geralt takes a breath. ‘You,’ he says. It takes a bit for Jaskier to realise. He’s thinking about Jaskier. 

Okay. Right. That’s…a thing. 

Jaskier wants to ask, he does. So many questions. What about me? Are you thinking about me in the mirror, the man so close to your reflection? 

‘What are you thinking?’ Geralt beats him to it. 

Jaskier’s eyes are still fixed on one of the bigger scar on his thigh. He places a tentative hand on top of it and looks up at Geralt. His knee brushes Geralt’s lower back, but Geralt doesn’t flinch away. 

‘This scar,’ he tells the truth, really, when you think about it. Geralt looks him in the eye, then at the place where his hand covers the white tissue. 

‘Remember how you got it?’ Geralt hums. ‘We went with Eskel,’ Jaskier drags his palm further up Geralt’s thigh, ‘I think about the two of you…how. How Eskel leaned into your side by the fire, while you rested. He touched your hair as I bandaged you up.’ 

Geralt hums again, and Jaskier knows that he’s pushing it, and he shouldn’t, but the words are out before he can stop them, before he can truly reconsider. He says, ‘I wonder why it is that you let him touch you like that, but not—not…me.’

Geralt goes completely still, gaze locked on his thigh. Jaskier withdraws his hand, clasps it over his mouth. He shouldn’t have said that. He goes to say, ‘Sorry, Geralt, I didn’t me—,’ but Geralt’s mouth moves first. 

‘You’re…repulsed?’

Jaskier’s world shatters. ‘I’m what?’

Geralt is still not moving, but he sighs, ‘You touch me in the night. You kiss me, and let me hold you. I know you do it for me, Jaskier. You never touch me in the daylight, never when you can—can see, uh. See me,’ his knuckles are white in his fists now, ‘And that’s okay. I know I don’t quite reach your standards, but. But I won’t inconvenience you,’ The last part is choked out, Geralt’s jaw set tight. 

‘Geralt,’ Jaskier whispers, ‘I didn’t know. I thought…Well, I thought.’ 

He decides, then. He pushes and pulls on Geralt until he settles against the headboard, and Jaskier climbs into his lap. Geralt looks at him, and his eyes are glazed over. 

‘Geralt, love. I see you. I’ve always seen you, in every dark corner, in every thick forest, I always see you. I know what you look like. Know your hair, know your scars, know your teeth. I want them. Please, Geralt?’ And Geralt’s tears are beginning to spill, but he’s not moving and Jaskier is getting desperate, ‘Can I have that? Please? Can I hold you?’

Geralt nods frantically. Jaskier cups his jaw and swipes at his tears. ‘Can you show me how you want to be touched, love?’ he whispers. 

Geralt reaches towards his cheek and takes Jaskier’s hand. He intertwines their fingers. 

‘In public?’ Jaskier asks.

Geralt nods, says, ‘Please.’ And then he places a soft palm against Jaskier’s cheek, presses a kiss to his temple. He leans forward and hugs Jaskier. He repeats his plea a couple times, until he settles with his lips over Jaskier’s. 

‘Say it,’ he says, ‘Can I have you?’

Jaskier presses kisses to his jaw, ‘You have me, you have me, you have me.’ 

Geralt receives the kisses, the praise that night, and as he settles, Jaskier on his chest, he allows himself tentative hope that they’ll wake like that in the morning. He kisses Jaskier’s forehead and settles, eye catching that mirror, and thinks vaguely as he drifts off, we looked good together.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Hi! Can I request 22 and 47 with Taehyung? With a Dom! Tae and Sub! Reader? As the reader is the present? I really enjoy your writing and it would be amazing if you did this, but you don't have to!

I Can’t Wait To Unwrap Your love.

You bite your lip anxiously. Taehyung will be home any minute and you are sat almost entirely naked on his bed at the dorm. Earlier in the week you had bribed Jimin to give you the spare key so you could sneak in. You’d never done anything like this. Always a little shy when it came to making the first move. Knowing Taehyung loved you being just that little bit innocent as he ravaged you. But this Christmas you’d made up your mind, this year you were going to be his present, giving into ever desire and fantasy he had ever had.

Your heart races faster as you hear laughter. The front door shuts and footsteps echo throughout the halls. Each of the boys head into their respective rooms after a long day. At least you hope they do because you would be mortified if anyone but Taehyung walked through that door right now. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you kneel up as the doorknob turns. Your new outfit (or lack thereof) on full display for the next person to enter the room. Delicate red lace covered your most intimate parts as ribbons covered in snowflakes wrapped in intricate patterns around you stomach, forming a bow in the middle.

Taehyung’s eyes open wide as he sees you, slamming the door quickly behind him to make sure the others wouldn’t see you. His eyes rake down your form, taking in every inch of you. His tongue darts out to lick his lips

“Y/N, you naughty girl” he scolds, moving closer to play with ribbons wrapped just under your chest. “What if the others had seen you like this?” his gaze locks with yours. You watch as his eyes grow darker with lust, giving you a lot more confidence in your decision.

“It wouldn’t have mattered… I’m your present Taehyung, only yours.” You go into kiss him, but he turns his face, so you peck his cheek instead.

“Taehyung Jagi?” his deep tone makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Sir.” You correct yourself. He turns his face back and rewards you with the kiss you’d been searching for.

“Tell me Jagi, what’s off limits today, set your boundaries for me.” He strokes your face sweetly, if a little possessively,

“Nothing sir.” He quirks an eyebrow, clearly not expecting your openness. “I want to show you exactly how I got on the naughty list this year siirr…” you drag out the title. His face remains stonelike but you see the delight dance behind his eyes.

“Is that so? Then I guess it’s time I unwrap my present.” He pushes you back onto the mattress and crawls up until he reaches your midriff. He takes the sparkly ribbon between his teeth and pulls. The bow falls to pieces immediately. He lays soft kisses across your stomach, trailing them up wards, over your cleavage and to your chin. You paw at the hemline of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. You whine as he pulls away, towering above you.

“Are you rushing me Jagi? Getting a little greedy?” he frowns and starts to climb off of you. “Here I thought you were supposed to be my present.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. He wanders out your eyeline, but you know better than to try to crane your neck and find him. If he wanted you to see him, you would. You hear a familiar click in the corner of his room. He has opened the toy chest. You try not to wriggle in anticipation. “If Y/N wants to make it all about her, I suppose I can oblige.” He mumbles like he is talking to himself, but you know it’s a performance for you. You mourn the loss of your pet name. All you want is to be his Jagiya, to know you are being a good girl for him.

You don’t notice as his weight shifts back on to the end of the bed. It takes the soft buzzing to bring your attention back to Taehyung. In his hand is a vibrator the two of you had yet to try. It was bought as a joke originally. Packaged as ‘the most powerful clit stim’ you had been too terrified to actually use it. You were already overly sensitive when it came to Taehyung, this seemed like it may be overkill. His free hand slides your panties to the side, dipping a finger through your slick and testing how wet you were already. He chuckles to himself before pressing the vibrator to your already dripping core, dragging it almost torturously up to meet your clit.

You let out a scream when he turns up the power. Immediately a hand covers your mouth, the finger that was slipped through your pussy is forced through your lips and you suck obediently, eager to please.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get the others to see you like this. Is that what you want? Do you want my hyungs to see what a slut you are for me? Or do you want the little maknae to watch as I destroy this delicate little pussy?” he turns up the setting of the vibrator, daring you to make another sound. You focus on sucking the finger he gave you and try to ignore the quickly growing pressure in your stomach. Unfortunately, Taehyung notice the little squirm you can’t supress. He smiles maliciously, pressing harder. You begin to pant around the digit in your mouth. Just before you topple over the edge of your orgasm, he takes away the pressure, switching off the vibrator all together and removing his hand from your face.

It takes you a moment to recover from the denial, breathing hard and eyeing him carefully. He merely rolls the vibrator along his palm and waits for your breathing to return to normal. Once he is sure you’ve recovered enough, he turns the vibrator back on. This time the vibrations against your clit are even stronger. All of the muscles in your body tighten. He draws soothing patterns along your thigh as he shushes you, a false attempt at soothing your current anguish. Once you reach the precipice again, he takes away the stimulation. A tear rolls down your cheek at the oversensitivity of your nerves. This time instead of replacing the toy under you pants, he removes them completely. He wriggles his head between your legs, inches from your core.

“You’re doing so well for me Jagi.” His breath on your sensitive skin makes you clench. You feel so over-sensitive, but you wouldn’t dare stop him, not when he just returned your beloved title. He wraps his arms around the tops of your thighs and dives in to taste you. His tongue sooths your burning clit with soft licks. The pleasure builds again but this time it is much more manageable. His tongue finds its way to your entrance, fucking you on it. You moan a little, earning you a sharp warning tap against you leg. You bring your wrist to your lips and bite down hard to stop yourself making any noises.

One arm un-snakes from you thigh and joins Taehyung’s mouth. Two digits replace his tongue as its attention returns to your clit. This time when your orgasm peaks he drives you over the edge, playing with you until the very last wave of pleasure ceases. He removes his hand and licks it clean before finally removing his shirt. Your hands immediately shoot up to touch him, but you catch yourself halfway, thinking better of it. He chuckles and grabs your wrists, pulling you towards him and letting you play. You rub up his wash board stomach, playing with the clearly defined lines.

“Can you take more Jagi.” You nod enthusiastically you gaze not leaving his stomach. He just and grabs your cheeks forcing you to meet his eyes. “You will speak to me when spoken to Jagiya.” You swallow thickly.

“Yes sir… please use me, I am your present, do with me what you see fit.” He smirks and undoes the fly on his jeans. Your mouth waters as he pulls himself free from the confines of his dark jeans. He is quick to line his beautiful cock up with you entrance, needier for you than he had let on during your punishment. No amount of foreplay ever prepared you for his size as he stretched you out. Today he was particularly brutal, not allowing time for you to adjust before using you. You relished the burn.

Each thrust felt like it could tear you apart. Your head hit the headboard multiple times, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you griped to his shoulders for dear life. Each time he ground down on your pelvis sent shivers through your body, hitting the already sore bundle of nerves every time. You shudder with a second orgasm much quicker than you expect. His face creases as you clench around him. His pace starts to slow, and you feel him getting sloppier as his end nears. A few moments later he is cumming deep inside you. Rope after rope of hot cum lands in your cervix. He pulls out and watches as his cum starts to trickle out of you.

“How long does my present last?” he asks pulling you up into his arms.

“Forever.” You whisper sleepily as he lifts you into his ensuite. He sets you on the counter and goes about clearing you up, carefully avoiding where he knows you will be most sensitive.

“Good because I have a lot more things I want to try.” he kisses you deeply and you melt into him. “Merry Christmas Jagiya.”

“Merry Christmas TaeTae"

Masterlist

Christmas stories

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 16)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2694 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 15 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Six weeks. That’s how much notice Bucky gave you until the wedding. You said yes to being his date before you had actually confirmed anything with work. The wedding was on the first Saturday in June but you would need to take off of work that Friday as well.

Technically one day off from Stark Industries wouldn’t be so bad and as predicted you were given the day easily. Unfortunately, you would have to take two days off at Metro-General and you really hoped that would be alright.

You hadn’t taken many days off since you began; a day for when you had food poisoning, another on the day of Wanda’s museum exhibit, but the hospital was a busy place and Elena was notoriously strict. Plus the more days you took off meant the more hours you would have to make up, which meant the longer it would take to fulfill your final requirement before graduating.

Once again, Marya’s words come to mind. Life will not wait for you so you needed to live it in the moment. It’s only two days.

With renewed confidence you knocked on Elena’s door and asked for the days off.

“Vacation?” she wondered.

“It’s for a wedding actually.”

Her dark eyes lit up at your answer. “Oh very nice. Where is it?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Somewhere in Long Island,” you chuckled, explaining that you were asked by a close friend to be his date.

After all these months of working together you realized this was the most personal conversation you’ve ever had with Elena. You had always tried to respect the boundaries of her as your boss but it was surprising as she seemed to open up first, letting down the guard she had carefully built up to protect herself while working in this field. Her approach carried over with her co-workers up until now.

“Mack was a close friend of mine once...” she said, turning the picture frame on her desk around towards you.

The photo showed her in the arms of a medium-brown skinned man with a dark beard and shaved head. Her whole face was smiling as she stared into his eyes and he was looking back at her like she was the only thing that gave meaning to life. Judging by their clothes you realized this was a wedding photo.

“You’re married? Since when?” You may have blurted that out a little bit louder than you expected but it was a bit of a shock considering she doesn’t wear a ring.

“Since I asked him,” she laughed. “Two years now, but we’ve been together for six and friends for a lot longer than that.”

Ahh now you understand what she was implying. “It’s not like that with me and Bucky. Well…” You bit your lip with uncertainty. “I don’t know. We’re friends and we kissed once but he’s dating other people and–”

“Yet he asked you to be his date.” She smirked, giving you a knowing stare.

Elena had given you the days off but part of you wished she didn’t. On the surface, Bucky was just a friend asking another friend for a favor but the more you thought about your history the more conflicted you felt.

From the moment he’s come into your life you’ve felt something towards Bucky. Sure his looks were undeniable but there was so much more about him. The passion he had for music matched what you felt for social work, and you connected, both of you realizing that each field plays an important role in helping people.

The more your friendship grew it felt like you were always meant to be in each other’s lives and you couldn’t imagine life without Bucky since he had become such a huge part of it. But you weren’t anything more than friends. That’s all.

The warm sun shines directly into your eyes as you exit the subway, trying your best to hear Peggy over the increased amount of people on the street. New York was always crowded but warm weather was a magnet that seemed to pull everyone out of their homes, drawing them outdoors to enjoy the beautiful day.

With Wanda on your left the three of you talk plans for Memorial Day weekend; it’s two weeks away and you’re trying to organize something for everyone to do together.

“I’m not sure if Sam has off or not yet but I do have some news,” Wanda said enticingly, biting her lip to contain her excitement. So many thoughts ran through your head as you waited for her to drop the details. “Sam and I are gonna move in together!”

“Oh Wanda, that’s brilliant!” Peggy said, her red painted lips stretching across her face in a beaming smile.

“I’m so happy for you two! When are you moving? And where?” you asked.

“His apartment is bigger so I’m moving there, hopefully by the end of the month but we’ll see. It’s hard with his schedule sometimes but I definitely want to be out as soon as possible.”

You offered assistance to help her pack and Peggy suggested making it a night with girls, with wine as a little motivation. “Yes, perfect!” Wanda agreed.

If only finding a dress for the wedding was as easy as helping Wanda move. You had already made a few trips to the department stores, trying on the perfect dress that fit like a dream and made you look incredible. Unfortunately, it cost more than your rent so it went back on the rack.

Your disappointing trip was made a little better by the promise of your friends to help you which is what you were doing now. One more block to go and you would be at the boutique you’ve never heard of before where Natasha was meeting you.

Opening the doors made you a little concerned. The place looked like it was from another planet. The glossy black ceiling stood in contrast to the bright white walls that were made up of three dimensional geometric tiles.

Silver accented the space from the large framed mirrors that leaned against the walls to the velvet pewter asymmetrically curved couch outside the dressing room. The clothes themselves looked normal at least, dresses of all kinds displayed on racks within silver frames, making them look like they were encased in glass.

Peggy and Wanda spread out to look for dresses, trying to find ones that resembled the overpriced gown you had only taken a selfie of to remember it by. Immediately you were drawn to a rack of flowy pastel colored ones, draping a few different styles over your arm.

In the middle of your search you heard Natasha call your name, and turning around to greet her you didn’t expect to see an unfamiliar face. She stood next to a man that towered over her small frame. A shock of ice blonde hair and matching bleached eyebrows caught your attention first before you moved on to his outfit, a red vest, leather pants and fur coat that seemed to only have one sleeve.

“Y/N, this is Taneleer Tivan, owner of The Tivan Collection,” she whispered the last line in a way as if you were meant to know who he was.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” you said, though his facial expression didn’t change.

Though his eyes were surrounded by a smudge of dark liner you were able to see clearly the way he looked down in disgust at the dresses you held.

“Carina!” he shouted, and a moment later a girl came running forward. She wore a white vinyl dress that looked more like something you expected the store to sell, although her outfit is much more subdued than her boss’s.

She waited in silence with her hands clasped in front of her, in what seemed like a routine she was quite familiar with. “These are all wrong,” Taneleer said to you and suddenly the dresses were being taken out of your hands by his assistant. “I have much better in my collection.”

To your shock Carina was beside you again, ushering you towards a different section of racks that had more appropriate gowns despite neither her or her boss knowing what event you were shopping for. Thinking back, the pastels might have been a bit too casual anyway.

As you perused the new section you found an assortment of beautiful dresses, some absolutely stunning ones that had you worrying about the price. Natasha can certainly afford a lot more than you but glancing down at the tag you were surprised to see how reasonable things were. You took out a few jewel toned ones to try on that caught your eye.

“Y/N, what do you think of these?”

Peggy’s soft voice made you turn around. The first dress she held up was a satin one shoulder gown in black.

“Oh I like the design,” you said, pointing to the ruffles falling from the shoulder.

The next one she held up was a shimmering emerald dress whose classic mermaid style made you feel like you should be going to the Oscars instead of a wedding.

“Peggy, that’s too formal!” Wanda chimed in, huffing as she came over with more than a half dozen sparkly dresses.

She made room on the nearest rack to hang them, excitedly showing each one off to you. The first was a gorgeous sequined dress, rose gold sparkling in the light. It was undeniably beautiful but you had reservations. You were a guest at someone’s wedding and didn’t want to draw too much attention.

“This one is similar but you’ll see the difference,” she added, holding up another rose gold sequined dress, this one with a plunging V-neckline and a low open back.

“Wanda, that’s…” You stopped yourself from saying anything, grimacing uncomfortably at the dress that was so wrong.

“That looks like a slutty prom dress,” Natasha laughed, saying the thoughts you didn’t say aloud.

Wanda scrunched her face at Natasha before continuing with the next set of dresses. They were less eye catching as the others but still in the sparkly realm. You set aside a shimmering off the shoulder dress in turquoise that looked more like the ocean glittering in sunshine. The neckline was still a bit low but the back was more appropriately cut.

Natasha handed you one dress, a stunning red gown of flowing chiffon with a beautifully embellished bodice of lace and beading. The high neck of the dress complimented the tasteful open back design.

“Okay I’m getting overwhelmed. I have to start trying things on.”

With dresses in tow you made your way inside the fitting room and closed the curtain. Natasha sat across from Peggy and Wanda, checking work emails from her phone despite it being Sunday.

“Nat, did you get your wedding dress from here?” Wanda curiously wondered as her eyes roamed the store.

Her lips pursed as she took a deep breath. “I haven’t found a dress yet. I think we might have to push off the wedding again.”

“What was that?” you said, pushing open the curtains.

Peggy’s face lit up with a smile as you stepped out in a purple dress with lace detailing on the bodice. “You look beautiful!”

Your head turned towards the larger mirrors for a second to admire how you looked in the dress before you remembered the muffled conversation you heard through the curtain.

“Wait, Tash, did you say you’re pushing off the wedding again?”

She huffed loudly, leaning over and covering the frustration on her face with her hands. When she finally lifted her head you saw the desperation in her eyes. “I’m ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go to the courthouse.”

With Natasha’s ever increasing workload you’re quite surprised she hasn’t done this already. It doesn’t seem like she and Clint have made any progress since you’ve known them.

“Forget me,” she said, waving her hand as if to push the burdensome thoughts away. “That dress is pretty but there’s no wow factor.”

You looked in the mirror, realizing she was right. The next dress you put on was the red one Natasha picked out and that one definitely wowed but not in a good way. The bodice of the dress had an uneven cut that exposed part of your sides making you feel uncomfortable.

The one shoulder dress Peggy picked out was too tight but even if there was another size you didn’t like the satin. Wanda’s sparkly dress was a maybe but you weren’t completely sold on it yet. After changing in and out of a few more dresses you started to sweat and all you wanted to do was leave.

While hanging the dress you just stepped out of back up you saw there was one more left and your eyes lit up. You don’t remember grabbing this dress but it was meant to be from the moment you slipped it on.

It was a beautiful navy blue gown, with fluttering ruffles down the modest V-neck that also mirrored the back. Compared to some of the others this was a much simpler dress but there was something about it that felt right. It fit like a dream, flattering every part of you while still allowing for movement. Weddings mean dancing and the thought of dancing with Bucky made goosebumps prickle all over your skin.

As you opened the curtain you saw everyone’s jaws drop, their eyes lighting up as you stood in front of them.

“This! This is it!”

“You really think?” you asked, looking over your shoulder to see how it looks from behind.

Peggy nodded her head, “Definitely. It’s perfect.”

“Bucky’s going to love it,” Natasha added.

You rolled your eyes, missing the knowing look the three of them shared. “Guys, this isn’t for Bucky. I want to look good for myself.”

“And you do,” Wanda said, “But he’ll also appreciate how good your ass looks in that, damn!”

Rolling your eyes as they burst out laughing, you admired yourself in the dress a little longer knowing this is the one. You went back into the dressing room with Bucky on your mind. Sure, he might stare at you all night in this dress but the truth is it doesn’t mean much more than that.

Bucky was actively dating and the only reason you’re going with him to the wedding is so he doesn’t spend a weekend with someone he really doesn’t know. Panic washes over you as you worry about the near future. What if he meets someone he really gets along with before the wedding and he resents the fact that he asked you to go. What if he uninvites you? What if–

“Hey I found a really cute clutch to go with the dress,” Wanda said through the curtain.

You finished getting dressed, grabbing the dresses you didn’t want first. Opening the curtain you found Carina waiting beside Wanda, ready to take the dresses from you. You thanked her and took the dress you were buying, holding it up next to the clutch Wanda found. It was glittering gold with a metal trim on the opening.

“Oooh I love it.”

Carina was waiting silently at the register in anticipation of you bringing everything up to pay. As you took care of that Natasha said goodbye to Taneleer, kissing him on both cheeks. You thanked him as well before leaving and his mouth curved into the slightest smile.

Late lunch with the girls went by faster than you expected and you were happy to finally be home, hanging up the dress in your closet. You knew you had shoes that would pair well with it somewhere in your closet, a search meant for another day.

Before bed you decided to text Bucky, even though part of you was hesitant about it. You typed away quickly, sending the text and turning off your phone before he could respond. From the other side of the wall Bucky smiled when he saw a notification with your name.

You: Hope your suit game is good because I just bought my dress and it’s 🔥🔥

He couldn’t wait.

PART 17

[leejungchans]

— wifey.

word count: 1.7k

warning(s): none!!

genre: fluff, humour

notes: obviously i don’t know what went on backstage at the sma/award shows in general, especially with the special arrangements of award shows in the past two years due to you-know-what, so this is mainly based on my own interpretation/imagination!!

set during january 31, 2021

summary: juliet tells one of her closest friends her secret backstage at the seoul music awards.

juliet’s masterlist | ask game

ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:16] do you wanna stop by and chat? 🥺

juliet 🤍 [19:17] didn’t we just talk on the phone yesterday? i didn’t know you wanted to see me this much 😼

ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:17] ...never mind 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️

juliet 🤍 [19:17] no wait i’m joking come back wifey 🥺🥺🥺🥺 what number is your dressing room?

“Unnie,” Juliet calls out to her manager, “can I go see Ryujin at ITZY’s dressing room? I won’t be long.”

Despite wearing a mask, Juliet can tell that the older woman is smiling from the way her eyes curve up into crescents. “Sure, I don’t think you guys have to be on stage for a while. I’ll text you if something comes up and you need to be back here.”

“Okay! Thanks, unnie!” Juliet says before grabbing her phone and putting on her mask. She passes by San on her way to the door and takes the opportunity to pat him on the head.

He looks up from his phone to find the maknae grinning down at him. “Who are you off to bother now?” he jokes.

She gasps, feigning offence as she places a hand over her heart. “Excuse you! It’s not my fault people want to see me!”

San rolls his eyes. “Okay, Miss Popular, I’m not going to hold you back any longer then. Be careful!”

“Careful is my middle name.”

“Says the person who almost tripped on the red carpet earlier.”

“...Definitely Wooyoungie-oppa’s fault.”

An indignant squawk comes from somewhere else in the room. “No, it wasn’t and you know it!”

San groans playfully. “I hate our family.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

Giggling at their banter, Juliet heads out into the hallway of the venue, bowing to the various passing staff members as she looks for ITZY’s dressing room.

She doesn’t miss the screens located on the walls showing SEVENTEEN receiving their bonsang, and she stops momentarily to watch their speech while smiling to herself, heart swelling at how happy she is for them (and specifically, her boyfriend).

When Juliet finally finds her friend in an empty hallway, leaning against the wall next to a door which she assumes leads to ITZY’s room, she immediately runs to tackle the rapper in a back hug.

“Guess who?”

“My worst nightmare.”

Juliet pouts even though Ryujin isn’t able to see it. “You’re no fun, Jinnie.”

“And you’re very cute.”

“Damn, and I’m going to forgive you just like that,” Juliet laughs. “Nice outfit, by the way.” She takes Ryujin’s hand to spin her around as she admires the ITZY member’s all-white suit. “Very fitting for the boss that you are.”

“I knew you were in love with me!” Ryujin teases, which immediately earns her a light smack on the arm. “So, how’ve you been?”

Juliet gives her a flat stare. “We literally talked yesterday.”

“Something could’ve happened since then!” Ryujin defends. “Plus, I just like hearing from you.”

Despite feeling warm and fuzzy from her friend’s sweet words, Juliet plays along by faking a cough. “Whipped. But to answer your question, not much has happened, unless you count almost falling asleep when getting my makeup done at the shop something exciting.”

That was partly a lie. Admittedly, she had been texting Chan nonstop during the day knowing they’d be seeing each other here, but she doesn’t know how to approach the topic with Ryujin. They’re as close as can be, but how do you break the news?

“‘Hey, I’m dating someone. I don’t know if you’ve heard of his group though, it’s not like his group is a million-seller or anything!’ Like this?” she wonders aloud that morning in the dorm.

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly how you tell someone,” Jongho deadpans from where he’s making coffee in the kitchen. “Well, maybe except the last part. Just say, ‘Hi, insert friend’s name, just wanted to share with you that I’m dating Dino from SEVENTEEN.’ Why are you being weird about this?”

“Did you seriously say ‘insert friend’s name’?”

“Yes, now answer my question.”

Juliet sluggishly rolls off the sofa to lie on the floor in a starfish position. “I don’t know...do people in our industry even tell their friends that they’re dating someone? Or do they, like, let their friends find out along with the rest of the world? Is it pretentious to tell someone just like that? Am I not being careful enough if I do that?”

Jongho frowns, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter for her to drink later before padding over to her. “I think mornings make you overthink more,” he says softly as he crouches next to the starfi—the maknae.

“Of course it wouldn’t be wise to grab a megaphone and run down the street broadcasting it, even though that wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done.” Juliet raises a leg to kick him lightly as he cackles. “But if you know that person can be trusted—wait, who exactly are you planning to tell?”

“Ryujinnie if I see her later at the award show,” Juliet replies, flailing her limbs around. “Maybe Felix? If I happen to also run into him.”

Jongho moves to sit on the floor. “Why didn’t you tell Ryujin-ssi yesterday over the phone then?”

“I don’t know...” she admits, “the topic never came up, and this doesn’t feel like news to tell over the phone.”

He flicks her head playfully. “You’re acting like you’re getting married or something.”

“Shut up, Jongho,” Juliet mutters, a faint tinge of pink forming on her cheeks.

“Anyways, both of them are people you trust, so I think it’s okay to tell them. They probably saw it coming like us and will likely be just as supportive, you don’t have to be weird about it, though that can be hard for someone like you,” he jokes.

“I will strangle you.” There’s no way he’s taking her seriously, not with one of her cheeks squished adorably against the floor.

“You can’t even crush an apple with your hands, but sure.”

At that moment, Seonghwa walks into the living room to find the two youngest members sprawled on the cold tiles. “What are you two doing down there?” he scolds, “you’re going to catch a cold!”

“Earth to Juliet!”

Juliet snaps out of her daze quick enough to register Ryujin waving a hand in front of her face. “Oh, sorry, I spaced out,” she says sheepishly.

Ryujin giggles. “I figured that, is everything okay?”

Juliet is about to respond when there is a commotion at the end of the hallway. Then she hears a familiar voice, more specifically, one belonging to a certain Boo Seungkwan.

Both girls turn their necks to find the members of SEVENTEEN walking in their direction, likely returning to their own dressing room. Before Juliet can think of a way to dig a hole to hide in, the members recognise her instantly, promptly exchanging knowing glances and letting out aye’s.

Ryujin blinks confusedly. Why are her seniors chuckling amongst themselves at the sight of the two girls chatting in the hallway? And why is her friend suddenly acting so strangely and avoiding eye contact with everyone and everything but the ground?

Her bewilderment increases tenfold as SEVENTEEN draws closer, with Juliet still looking down even when they bow to their seniors and murmur quiet greetings.

What is going on?

The answer to her question comes when the group quickens their pace and walks past the girls, laughing and sneaking glances over their shoulders as they disappear around the corner. All of them, but one.

Ryujin shuffles, awkwardly bowing to the youngest SEVENTEEN member which he returns along with a quiet “hello”. She watches in part shock and part amusement as Chan turns to her friend.

“Hi.”

Despite their masks, anyone could tell they were both smiling widely, and judging from her friend’s sparkly eyes and pink ears, Ryujin had no doubt that their relationship goes beyond a simple friendship.

“Congratulations,” Juliet tells him shyly, “I’ll be looking out for your performance later.”

The corners of Chan’s eyes crinkle even more. “Thanks, I’ll be cheering ATEEZ on too, of course. Stop by later if you have time? Seungkwannie-hyung said he misses you and Wooyoung,” he says the last part with a playful roll of his eyes.

Juliet laughs. “Okay, I’ll bring him with me later,” she promises.

Ryujin and Juliet watch Chan jog down the hallway, presumably to catch up with his members, before the former turns to her friend and clears her throat dramatically.

“Miss Juliet, is there something you want to tell me?” Ryujin asks with a wriggle of her eyebrows. “I’ve heard you mention that you’re friends with Dino-sunbaenim, but I didn’t know you two were this close?”

Juliet bites the inside of her cheek. “Promise you won’t tell?”

Sensing the serious tone in her voice, Ryujin nods solemnly. “Promise.”

Juliet leans down to whisper in the shorter girl’s ear. “We’re dating,” she says quickly before pulling away.

“Oh my God, really?”

“Shh! Not that loud! But yeah... we are.”

“I mean, that kinda crossed my mind when I witnessed your exchange just now,” Ryujin says upon looking down both ends of the hallway to ensure no one else is there. “But I thought maybe you just had a crush on him. Since when?”

“The beginning of this month.”

Ryujin nods again. “Did you tell your company?”

“Yeah. So far, only our families, members and companies know, you’re the first person I’ve told.”

The rapper’s eyes soften as she pulls Juliet into a hug. “Thank you trusting me. You two are really cute together, but I will only support this relationship on one condition.”

Juliet giggles, knowing her friend is simply joking. “Shoot.”

“Please don’t make me third-wheel you guys ever again,” Ryujin pleads. “I felt so awkward standing there while you two flirted with each other.”

“Okay, okay, I promise!”

“Now, I’d tell you to tell me everything, but it seems like there’s somewhere else you need to be,” Ryujin hints cheekily. “So you will call me tonight instead.”

Juliet beams, feeling very lucky to have such an incredible friend. “You know I will.”

“One more question—are you still my wifey, or did Dino-sunbaenim already steal you away from me?”

Juliet can’t help but laugh at how wronged Ryujin sounded before taking her friend’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry, Jinnie, you’ll always be my wifey.”

“Good to know. Now, give me your phone. There’s something I need to do.”

— bonus!!

Chan reaches the door to SEVENTEEN’s dressing room, already bracing himself for his members’ teasing that will no doubt ensue the moment he steps foot into the room.

As he reaches for the door handle, his phone lights up with a notification.

minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] hello sunbaenim, i just wanted to let you know that she’s still my wifey 😺 please take good care of her! she can be a huge mess sometimes but you probably already knew that 😔 congratulations on the bonsang! - shin ryujin

minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] aHa anyways 🤡 see you later!! i may be a mess but i’m your mess right 🥺🥺 also please tell seungkwannie-oppa i miss him too!!

a/n: we stan two besties 🥺🥺 please consider leaving feedback whether it’s a reblog, a reply or an ask, it would mean the absolute world to me as feedback really motivates and supports creators 🥺 and feel free to chat with me about juliet or anything else through my asks!! thank you for reading, remember i’m here for you and have a good day 💕

[let-it-show]

Safe and Sound

Hello hello! This here little ficlet was written for wonderful @junglekiing who had been looking for writing of their Tiger!Elsa AU that would also be FLUFF.  Here we have Anna and Elsa in a moment to themselves, and Elsa makes it clear how happy she is. ------- Every single day Anna learned something about the friend she had taken home with her from the woods. Hybrids were uncommon in Arendelle, even if a handful were known to live and work in the kingdoms. Those individuals were part of the community and as much as they intrigued Anna, she could never get herself to approach them and ask them a deluge of questions. She had so many! But, well, she also was always teaching herself to squish her excitement aside to avoid being rude, and so she tried to stick to the books so could find about them. The books never prepared her for Elsa.

Since returning to the castle with her and inviting her to stay, Anna's curiosity was constantly through the royal roof. Everything the part human, part tiger woman did was fascinating, even when it shouldn't be. Elsa licking a cut on her hand instead of cleaning it like a normal person? What! That was so strange but she liked it. Elsa helping her wash dishes even with those bizarre part human and part cat hands? She had to take it in!

On a particular day, Elsa had lounged on the library couch in the sun with Anna and closed her eyes.

That in itself wasn't unusual. Elsa was still adjusting from a nocturnal life to time her own schedule with Anna's. She'd been stuck to her side since that day they returned from the woods, and Anna had no complaints there. She was reading one of her favorite stories during some afternoon downtime and Elsa loved to just exist with her. She couldn't read herself, not yet.

Elsa's head was leaned against the back of the couch, the rough pads of her feet - her paws - whatever - against Anna's thigh where there was a split in her green dress. Her tail dangled over the front of the couch and the end of it twitched every now and then. A pillow was held in her arms, both hands digging in as though she were kneading. Elsa was clad in an elegant, sparkly blue dress she'd made herself with her own powers.

Because of course she had powers, weird icy ones. Anna had no idea if that was normal, but it sure was their little secret and drew her to Elsa even more.

Anna sighed with contentment and set her hand on the top of Elsa's foot. "Sleepy thing," she said quietly, smiling.

Then she startled as her words were quickly followed by a soft response. "I'm not asleep. I'm quite awake, thank you."

"O-oh! Sorry! I'm used to you drifting off...this must mean you're making it through the day better, then!" That would be great! Anna had been able to coax Elsa into snuggling with her, something the blonde had been terrified of at first because she didn't want to hurt Anna. When no harm had come, Elsa was eager to curl up with her. Anna wasn't sure what they were, yet, but she knew she wanted to sleep through a whole night being held by her. "You're not tired at all?"

"No," Elsa answered gently. "Just...safe."

Anna blinked and lowered the book she had been reading. She turned to look at Elsa, her eyes still closed. "Safe?"

"Safe," Elsa repeated, then opening one eye to look back at Anna. "We big cats only close our eyes and truly relax when we feel very, very safe."

"But you sleep in the day all the time!" Anna blurted, before covering her mouth with her hand. "I mean, I'm not judging or something-"

Elsa laughed. The sound felt just plain GOOD. It tickled her heart with warmth. "I know. I know. That's where you have to remember I'm not all cat, and I know I need to rest and sleep no matter what. But rarely have I ever allowed myself to relax, like this."

"Oh." Anna lowered her hand from her mouth, feeling a bit silly.

"It feels wonderful," Elsa murmured, and that one eye closed again. "It feels...like the weight of the world has slipped away, and I can simply be."

"I love when I feel like that." Anna didn't feel like that too frequently as she was Queen, but she handled the stress well enough to be able to relax.

For a moment, silence hung in the air. "I have not felt like this is many, many years. I was on my own for a long time when you found me, Anna."

Anna had learned snippets of Elsa's past here and there. She knew she had left her family for some reason, and sometimes caught that she was outcasted. At the same time, she had also picked up hints that-that Elsa herself held some sort of powerful position in her family. In her herd...no, that didn't seem right in her head, did tigers even have herds? What would a group of tigers be called anyway? A stripey surprise?

Her thoughts were distracted when Elsa spoke again. "I never....never thought it could be like this again, either."

"Elsa!" Anna's heart felt like it exploded, or imploded, or whatever. "Why? Did you really think you'd always be alone in the northern forest?" Anna had completely closed her book, Elsa's soft, fuzzy foot gripped in one hand.

"Well...yes."

At that answer, Anna swallowed and made an immediate and very firm decision. "You'll never be alone again! Elsa, I swear, as long as I am alive and Queen, and those two are the same because I think I only stop being Queen when I'm dead, UNLESS- nevermind, I don't know where I'm going - I swear you will always be a part of this castle. Of this family. This...family of you and me and that snowman you made a couple of weeks ago who keeps popping into the kitchen unannounced, which reminds me, the staff who know about you are family-"

Something swatted Anna's ankles. "Anna, Anna hush, I get it." Elsa lightly got her with her tail one more time. "I'm honored you would trust me so much and accept me and I...well...I..." Elsa opened both eyes again, the striking blues rendering Anna speechless. "...Thank you, for everything, for your patience and kindness. I love...I love...being here," Elsa said and as the last two words came out, she seemed to lose a little steam.

Behind a locked door in her mind there was more struggling to come out and even someone as bubbleheaded as Anna could see that. As much as she wanted to draw it all out at once, Anna knew she couldn't force anything. And she wouldn't.

"I love having you here, Elsa. Always felt a little empty before, and now...um...well, it doesn't."

"Hmm. 'It' meaning the castle?" Elsa asked her, releasing her pillow with one hand and reaching toward Anna. The fingers on her other hand dug into the pillow in a hastened rhythm, almost excited.

"Meaning...a lot of things..." The castle, her heart, her life, and time as a whole. Elsa felt like the piece Anna often felt was missing, though the tail was a surprise. The ice was...also a surprise. Anna took Elsa's hand, her cooling fur always kind of blowing her mind.

Elsa pulled slowly, drawing Anna down with her on the roomy couch. The sunlight danced on the cold glitter of her blue dress, making her strange friend even more beautiful than she usually was. That was an amazing task; Elsa was absolutely stunning.

Both women shifted as Anna laid her head on the pillow Elsa held, resting just below her chin. Elsa adjusted briefly to kiss the top of Anna's forehead and Anna felt tingles all over her body. She wanted more, she almost ached for more, wanting to kiss Elsa in honest. She had kissed her on the lips a couple of times and it was chaste, but set off sparks. However Anna was patient.

Elsa's arms wrapped around her and casually started undoing her elegant, regal bun. Anna didn't stop her. She never really like wearing it; it was a little tight. Some viewed her double braids as childish, though.

Elsa thought they were cute and would bat at them.

"I've never felt safer than I do right now," Elsa whispered, and Anna smiled.

"Good. You're safe. And...you'll always be safe. I-I know how to use a sword." Anna immediately felt silly. Why did she say that!?

"And I can use ice. May we never actually have to use our skills in such a way, but I'll always make sure you're safe as well."

Somehow Anna hadn't know how much she needed to hear that. She had no idea until it went right to her heart. She had never really been concerned about being protected and kept safe, but hearing such words from the person she clearly adored, well...

She didn't know what to say. Elsa had that effect. No one else was quite so successful at leaving Anna speechless, but Elsa could do it without any effort. Anna didn't even want to respond and not in a bad way. She felt good. She felt like that need to push words, to comment, to ramble, it was soothed. Not every thought needed to be voiced, and not every moment even needed a thought.

"I'll always keep you safe," Elsa told her again, her fingers stroking her hair, the very tips of her claws like heaven against her scalp.

Anna closed her eyes. Just like Elsa, she felt safer than she ever had before.

[2-cute-4-school]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨

pairing: Lee Donghyuck x gn!Reader 

genre: fluff, a small part of angst but all ends well ;)

word count: 2.4K words

a/n: my part of the christmas collab called ‘The Triangle That Defines Our Existence’, hosted by the lovely, amazing, incredibly talented, the sweetest human being who deserved the entire world @dearncityy (ღˇ◡ˇ)♥, thank you for allowing me to be part of this (੭ु｡╹▿╹｡)੭ु⁾⁾ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵐᶦˢˢ ᵘ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᶦᶠ ᵘ ᵈᵉᶜᶦᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇˡᵒᵍ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗ 

my masterlist | event’s masterlist!!!!

You know how souls are connected? How soulmates are created from the stardust of the same explosion, traveling for millions of years through time and space just to end up meeting in the same coffee shop down the road over a spilled latte after living thousands of miles away for their entire lives? How oceans and mountains, galaxies and dimensions, hate and love tear them apart but this small string, thinner than a strand of hair, but stronger than an entire army brings them back together? How fate works?

Do you think snowflakes miss each other? Born from the same cloud, fluffy and blue, the interest of any curious child’s eyes and just the stretch of an arm away, almost like-

“The blue one, please!”

“Can I get the blue?”

The owner of the candy floss shop stared flabbergasted at the pair of you, hands stretched towards him with bills clutched in-between your fingers. 

“I’m sorry but it seems like there is only one left and we’re out of blue colorant.”

At the newfound information, the boy beside you turned to you abruptly, cheeks flushed and determined shiny eyes.

“I believe I was here first, so I should be the one to get it.”

“Excuse me but you believe wrong, if anything, I asked for it first.”

You both scoffed in disbelief and carried on arguing as the owner watched with apologetic eyes while a line of equally impatient children accompanied by their parents whined for their own sweet treat.

“So therefore, as I have stated in my previous point of my thesis, I-”

“Move, we’ve been waiting here for 5 minutes already-”

Your new archnemesis turned to the kid behind him who dared interrupt his essay with burning eyes which might have just melted the frozen snot peeking from the child’s nostrils.

“Shut up, you bogey-eater garden dwarf! Learn how to respect your elders! You should- Hey!”

As you could tell the child’s mother’s eyes bulging out of their sockets and the choice of words directed towards her son, you quickly shoved the money in the owner’s hands, grabbed the stick of the blue candy floss with one hand, using the other one to drag the boy away from the commotion he himself caused before he lost an ear to the mom’s fury.

“Hey! Hey, you thief! How dare you-”

“Oh shut that trap for once, better thank me for dragging you away before that mother pulled a Van Gogh on you.”

He dusted himself off once you let go as if filth has touched him and you heavily debated just slamming the entire sticky candy on top of his head, but you decided against it. You worked to hard for it just to waste it on a head that didn’t even deserve it.

“This isn’t over, I still want that candy floss.”

“Let’s just share.”

He looked like he wanted to protest but he most likely couldn’t come with a better idea so he just sighed and shrugged dismissively. You both settled down on a bench on the side of the Christmas-decorated street and didn’t waste a second to dig into the cloud of sweetness.

“So... should I ask for the name of the person I fought tooth and bone for blue candy floss?”

“You want to go back and ask that kid? I’m not sure you’ll get out alive.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow and you both broke into smiles. He turned to look at you and you met his honey filled eyes, colorful lights dancing in them and it seemed like entire galaxies were celebrating the upcoming holiday too.

“Donghyuck. Friends call me Hyuck or Haechan. So you can call me Donghyuck.”

You deadpanned, but it only made him giggle louder. His nose was even more flushed than his cheeks and you couldn’t help but admire the way the rosy pink blended in with the natural tan of his skin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he scrunched his nose mid laugh and you could understand why universes decided to reside in him.

“I hope you choke on candy floss.”

He only laughed harder and if Christmas was a laugh, it would have been Donghyuck’s, pure and hopeful.

“But what is my knight’s in shining armor’s name?”

“It’s Y/N. So you can’t call me. Ever.”

Despite your threatening tone, his smile didn’t lose its brightness. If anything, it shone brighter, lights and colors and happiness playing along his features and you couldn’t help but think that the moles on his face created constellations with the stars in his eyes. You saw art in what others saw as incident.

Donghyuck’s eyes widened as he stared at you, an exaggerated gasp leaving his lips before he exclaimed.

“A snowflake! It’s snowing! It’s snowing on Christmas Eve!”

“What? Where?”

“It’s on your nose!”

Your eyes crossed as you tried to catch sight of the small ounce of snow that settled on the tip of your nose. Donghyuck stared smugly as you turned accusingly and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re making fun of me!”

“I’m not! It really is-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you jumped in your seat.

“Donghyuck, one landed on your nose too! It’s there! It’s really snowing!”

And sure enough, one white traveller after another found their ways down in a whirlwind, waltzing on the last steps to their final destination in the eyes of thousands of admirers.

“Now we have matching snowflakes!”

Donghyuck laughed fondly at your excited tone, watching your enraptured eyes light up like a child’s and he thought that he might have found his Polaris. Right under his nose, he had found the brightest star in his sky.

“Yeah, do you think they were competing for candy floss too?”

“Maybe they confused it with their home. Don’t you think it resembles a cloud in this lighting? Maybe they thought they have found their way back home.” You pondered for a while, before grinning. “Mine won anyway.”

“Pffft, mine must have been confused by yours. How could you confuse candy floss for a cloud?”

You just shrugged, munching on the last bit of the sweet treat.

“Oh, Y/N, how much was it? Let me pay for my half.”

You thrust your phone in his directions, cheeks flushed less from the cold and more from the embarrassment of your next words. Donghyuck watched as you fidgeted in your place, his own expectant excitement building up inside of him as he accepted your phone gingerly.

“The cost is your phone number and a promise to share candy floss again. Only if you want to of course, don’t feel obligated to-”

“Let’s confuse snowflakes again, maybe it’ll snow again. My treat.”

You both smiled so largely your cheeks hurt the entire night.

~~~~

Your snowflakes decided to travel together on that fated day so you and Donghyuck decided to take their example. You stuck together and time didn’t seem to pass in the same way it used to. A year turned into a month, a month into a week, a week into a day and this day into a second. A second spent together. A second you cherished more than entire years. The second Donghyuck decided you put the moon and stars in the sky, or rather the single sparkly star on top of his Christmas tree.

“Stick that fucking star on that branch or I swear it’s either you’re taking a dive into the floor or my back will crack so loud your grandkids feel shivers down their own spine!”

“I’m obviously trying, Donghyuck! The branch is too thick, it won’t fit-”

“That’s what she said- oof!”

You made sure to dig your heel into his ribs hard enough to shut him up.

“Don’t you dare taint this holy evening with your bull!”

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t retort anything and struggled obediently to hold you up for long enough for you to put the finishing touch to his, no, both of yours’ Christmas tree: a silver, shining star.

“I told you it would be easier if we simply used a ladder, but nooo.”

“Where is the romance in that?”

“And where is the romance in me cracking your back and possibly falling on top of this tree?”

Your boyfriend groaned at your smart reply, tapping your thigh impatiently.

“Finally! You can put me down, the asshole has saddled up!”

“Never phrase it like that again please.”

After you were lowered, you both stepped back to admire the piece of art that stole- Donghyuck gasped softly once he took a look at the clock hung on the wall. Four hours?! How could that be possible, it only felt like... a second.

He turned to watch you instead of the overflowing tree, ornated in tinsel and lights. You glowed so much more than any view in this world in Donghyuck’s eyes. His Polaris indeed. No matter how lost he would ever be in life, tangled in his own mind, struggling against his own, one look at his brightest star and he’d find his way back to you through the darkest of nights. He deemed it only right for his guiding star to hang the star on top of your tree as if you hung it in a once starless night once he turned off the lights in the room.

Donghyuck thought that maybe he could live in an eternity in a single day with you.

“Ah, it snowed so much outside. It looks so fluffy, I have to!”

“What, no Y’N, wait!”

Before Donghyuck could even react, you sprung away from him, clumsily slipping on some shoes and running outside in only your sleepwear. Your boyfriend ran after you, gathering your jacket before joining you in the snow. He found you a few steps away from the entrance, crouched before a mound of fresh snow, digging your already reddening hands into it and spreading it around to form drawings and words. He sighed as he laid your jacket over your shoulders and crouched beside you.

“Don’t be so reckless, you’ll catch a cold like this.”

“Look who’s talking” you shot him a pointed look “where’s your own jacket if you’re so worried about colds?”

He spluttered for a moment, realising he forgot his own jacket in his rush to make sure you wouldn’t suffer too much because of the cold.

“I need no jacket. Jackets are for weaklings.”

You rolled your eyes, focusing back on the snow gathered in your hands. 

“I feel bad for the snowflakes. They left their home, maybe they were even separated from their loved ones on the way down here. I bet they miss them. But they are trapped here once they landed. If only they would have the chance to fly for a little longer and search for them.”

You threw it in front of you, watching as it spread all around you, floating elegantly in a dance of their own before regaining their place on the spotless white dessert. Donghyuck watched you with curious eyes.

“I feel so bad for them I almost want to take them into my own home and care for them and love them-”

“But they’d melt.”

“Huh?”

“The snowflakes would melt. It’s not the right kind of home for them. Love isn’t always what they need, sometimes it consumes you little by little, it reduces you to nothing.”

“I’d rather melt into nothingness if it meant I felt even a second of pure love.”

‘That’s Y/N for you indeed’ Donghyuck could only shake his head as a small, content smile settled on his face. He scooped a little bit of snow into his cupped palms and brought it close to his lips. You shrieked.

“Don’t eat it! I get it, I won’t bring snow into the house!’“

He laughed so joyfully the shy moon cowered behind clouds at his beauty.

“I’m not planning on eating it, dumbass.”

“Then?”

“I’m wishing upon snowflakes?”

“Maybe we should head inside, maybe you have a fever.”

“Shut up, I’m not delusional. There are no dandelions during winter and snowflakes are our thing anyway, right? So let’s wish upon a snowflake instead of dandelions this time.”

He didn’t wait for you to react before he blew harshly into his palms, sending the small pile of snow flying out of his hands. Donghyuck could only think of a single thing while watching the swirl of the freed snow dancing in the dimly lit street in front of the house.

I wish for you to be my north star, to keep guiding me home to you.

~~~~

But sometimes it gets foggy. And sometimes you lose your way.

Donghyuck stared at his own reflection in the silver globe. He looked anything but Christmas-y. There was no twinkle in his eye, dull orbs gazing back at him almost condescendingly.

He’s always been a spitfire, a follower of his own fate that he made by his own hands. He swore to never let a flame touch, but promises are meant to be broken and his love, too burning hot, consumed you just like warmth consumed the snow. You slipped through his fingers just like snowflakes get separated in the harsh wind.

And Donghyuck was sure that if snowflakes could feel, they would be the most pitiful. A separation so sudden, so forceful, one that leaves you desperate to turn back time even for just a second. To watch them for longer. To hold on tighter.

‘Lee Donghyuck, you dumbass’

He sighs as he lowers the globe, putting it back into the box that would soon go into the basement where it resides for most of the year. One goodbye after another. Undecorating and storing away the once lively Christmas tree felt even more melancholic than usual, because while it meant a ‘see you later’ to the brightness of his house, he might have lost his chance at even saying a proper ‘please let me see you again’ to the brightness of his soul.

He looked up, catching sight of the lonely star sitting atop of the tree, the only decoration left. So far out of reach.

‘Feels so wrong to search for a stool for that after so long. Also feels wrong for me to be the one to take it off. I got too used to you.’

‘Too empty, where are your ridiculous decorations?’

‘Too blank, where are your rainbow vomit Christmas sweaters?’

‘ Too quiet, where are your late carols?’

‘...Where are you?’

Donghyuck had to shake himself out of his zoned out state, looking out the window at the lights still hung around his porch. He should remove those too. He stepped outside, being immediately enveloped by the winter winds blowing around the freshly laid out snow.

‘It snowed a lot this year. Where are your snow-angels?’

Donghyuck touched the scarf wrapped around his neck. The one he searched for for hours just to find it laid around the ‘neck’ of the snowman you both built earlier that day. Despite his scolding, he couldn’t help but think that who needs presents when his biggest blessing is smiling so purely right in front of him?

‘Are you building snowmen away from me now? Are you using someone else’s scarf now?’

His face contorted into a grimace. He grabbed two fistfuls of fresh snow, throwing them into the wind, watching them meddle amongst themselves

‘You talked all that shit about giving them a second chance to find their loved ones after a storm, to find their soulmates once again. So where are you?’

‘Why don’t you give me another chance to find you too?’

Donghyuck watched helplessly as the snow settled down once again. What if soulmates get lost forever? What if they don’t meet again? He crouched in the middle of the alley to his house. The same one you walked on and away from him.

A lonely snowflake landed on his hand, as if to prove Donghyuck a point. He couldn’t help but chuckle sarcastically, pain lacing his usually bright tone.

‘Are you feeling it too, buddy? Are you alone too?’

‘How about you, my love? Where are you, Y/N?’

Another snowflake slowly descended right by the one already settled on his hand. Destined together, by the hands of fate, by each other’s hand, by time itself. 

‘Ah, found your soulmate, have you?’

‘Where has mine gone?’

A crunch resonated in Donghyuck’s ears, right in front of him. So close.

“Sorry for the wait.”

His head snapped up. Did heartbreak cause illusions? Did desperation cause hearings? No, while his brain took its time comprehending, his heart knew instantly. It recognized its owner.

“It got confused and a little scared on the way here, but it finally found its way back home.”

You were home. At home in his arms, nestled in his embrace, face buried in his chest, right above his erratic heartbeat. 

“You know, late comers have to pay for the wasted time.”

“Oh, is that so? How much is it?”

“Just a lifetime spent together.”

Donghyuck’s eyes sparkled again.

~~~~ 

You still haven’t decided what takes the crown as the best replica of the fluffy clouds traveling lazily across the sky. You stick another piece of baby blue cotton candy in your own mouth while internally debating between the two choices. The floss of sweetness you had the luxury to eat at the moment or-

A whine interrupted you. Your head snapped to the side just to meet a pair of puppy eyes staring back at you, waiting for acknowledgement.

“Hyuckie too~”

“Maybe Hyuckie should have bought his own then.”

Despite your seemingly annoyed retort and the roll of your eyes, you still offered him a piece of cotton candy, one that he didn’t hesitate to snatch right from your hand the moment it was presented in front of his lips.

You stared adoringly at your boyfriend as he munched satisfied on the sweet and you could barely suppress the need to run your fingers through his soft locks, bury your hand into your own warm, lavender-smelling cloud.

“I’m getting flashbacks from our first meeting.”

You snapped out of your haze, redirecting your attention to Donghyuck’s words.

“Huh?”

“It’s the same bench. When you stole my cotton candy and then offered to share it with me oh so kindly-”

“I paid for it! And saved you too for the sake of it!”

“And then trapped me with you in order to repay you.”

You slapped his arm, watching fondly as he dissolved in a fit of giggles. You both knew he didn’t mean it, he spent countless hours thanking the world and you for bringing you two together and allowing him happiness. You sighed a bit melancholic, only just realising that he was right, this was the same bench you ate your first candy floss together. Same place, same people, same surroundings, different circumstances.

“It feels like an eternity ago.”

“And at the same times it feels like only yesterday.”

A beat of silence passed before Donghyuck spoke again, quieter, more careful, almost timidly.

“I’m scared too sometimes.”

You leaned into him, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder. He brought the hand that wasn’t holding your waist already up to your face, cupping your cheek delicately and caressing it with his thumb. His snowflake finally had a soulmate.

“Why?”

He bumped his nose against yours, leaning his forehead against yours. He had you, under his fingertips, breaths mingled, hearts beating together.

“What if it’s over before we realise?”

You hummed softly, your lips brushing against his as you murmured your next words, a secret shared between lovers

“Doesn’t matter. Time is nothing with you, an irrelevant notion meant to hurry us when all we want to do is linger a second more. For you and me, there’s no end and no beginning.”

And sure enough, here you were. Two snowflakes, vulnerable and in passing, sharing a cloud and a timeless bond.

[kl4us4]

AMPLIFICATION (Spencer Reid x Profiler!Reader)

Summary: S4 E24, where Spencer is poisoned by anthrax.

masterlist

Warning: angsty, bit sad, building tension

Within 18 hours of their common time together, 12 people who visited Quiet Hills Park in Annapolis, Maryland, have died from anthrax poisoning, with at least 13 more in emergency rooms headed in the same direction. You were with Emily and Rossi when he had gotten the call from Morgan. At the time, you weren’t sure what the hell it was about. Another attack maybe? The unsub’s been poisoning areas around town, spreading powdered anthrax into the air. It takes as little as three hours to settle into its victims’ system, filling their lungs and brain with blood before they die.

Rossi’s face fell slightly, you noticed it. If it had been anyone who knew him less, they wouldn’t have taken note of his change in demeanour. But you know him. And the way his eyes flicked to you before he hung up the phone had made your stomach sink. He wouldn’t provide any updates, only that you were all needed back at the BAU HQ.

“Hotch wants to speak to you himself.” That was all Rossi had said to you. And that was it. You kept quiet the ride to the office. Emily and Rossi spoke about the case and the possible unsub. You’d have joined in but an unsettling pain in your gut was making you feel uneasy.

And when you had walked into the office, you felt Hotch’s eyes immediately find you. They had lingered on you. That was when you got the first inkling that something was off. Something bad. Hotch mumbled something to a military officer, walking past him to stand with JJ and Garcia as the rest of the team approached. Everyone was on edge, that much was clear. The air in the office was stale and riddled with nerves. Spencer and Morgan weren’t there, that was the second clue that something had gone horribly wrong.

“Some of you have heard,” Hotch began, his solemn eyes moved around the group with an intensity you’d never seen before. His eyebrows were furrowed more than usual, and his posture was stiff. But you could tell at the time that he tried to come off as casual and calm. “Morgan and Reid visited the potential unsubs house. They found traces of anthrax. Morgan didn’t make it inside the house but Reid is in there now getting intel on our unsub. I can confirm he has come into contact with anthrax.”

You can’t even explain how deeply your stomach had sunk in that moment. There was a chill that settled in the room, you felt it raise the hairs on your arms as it brought a cool sweat to your neck. The only thing you could think of was that young girl you and Reid had spoken to in the ER just hours before. She was coughing up blood and could barely move, all because of anthrax. The same anthrax that was making its way through Spencer’s body, destroying everything it could as fast as it could. And by the end of it, he wouldn’t be able to even say his own name. 

When Hotch spoke your name, if broke you free of your panicked mind and you met his concerned gaze, “Got that? Help Garcia make a geographical profile, look for anything in his past that could tie into a new target area.” You just nodded at your superior and everyone left to do their assigned jobs. “Y/L/N,” Hotch muttered, his voice deep and quiet but stern enough to get your attention.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before you turned back to Hotch. You did everything you could to keep eye contact with him. “Sir?”

“I need to know your head is in the right place,” He states, his voice wasn’t harsh or disappointed; it was calm and understanding, “I need everyone’s full attention on this case, many lives depend on it. If you’re unable to work this case, let me know now.”

“I’m able,” you responded quickly, with an eager nod, “I’m sure.”

Hotch seemed... unconvinced. But if he was truly worried, he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t pull you from the case or grill you harshly to see where you’re truly at. Hotch had seen the eager way you tried to assure him that you were okay. And in that moment, where you had given him a desperate nod, he realised that you needed to work this case. If you didn’t, you would have nothing to keep you distracted from the impending death your boyfriend was in. So, Hotch, being ever formal, just gave you a small nod. And he placed a gentle hand on your tense shoulder. It was comforting, you needed it. It made you feel less alone. When Hotch left you, you couldn’t help but stand there for a second with your eyes shut. You tore any thought of Spencer from your mind. This is a case. You reminded yourself. This is an important case. And when you opened your eyes again, you headed straight to Garcia’s lair.

You stared at the map of the area. The abrasive red, showing the places he’s already attacked. The yellow, showing possible targets. And the blue, his residence. It was almost as though your eyes were engrossed by the blue as you watched, thinking, analysing, profiling where an unsub like this would go next.

“Spencer,” you snapped your head to Garcia, seeing her smiling as she placed a hand on her headset. Your eyes were slightly wide as you watched her, seeing her press a few buttons.

“What, no witty greeting?” Spencer questioned, his voice sounded rough and dry. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of it. For all you had known at the time, that was possibly the last time you would ever hear his voice.

“It’s hard to be my sparkly self when you are where you are,” Garcia admitted to her sick friend, her brown eyes were stuck to the floor.

Spencer took a pause, shuffling around a bit. You could almost picture him holding his phone up to his ear, leaning against a table with his other arm. Or sitting down, one leg draped over the other, looking around the room as he speaks. “Uh, Garcia,” he took a shaky breath, “I need a favour.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to - to send my mom a message. From me. I just... I need her to hear my voice - if anything happens to me.”

It was too much. It was way too much. You quickly left the room, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from coming. This is a case. This is an important case. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. You hung outside of Garcia’s room, unable to hear the muffled conversation until she pulled the door open. Her face was on the other side, giving you a sympathetic and kind expression; one that you couldn’t return even if you tried.

“Any updates?” You asked Garcia, wishing that her eyes didn’t look so curious. She looked like she wanted to question you about the whole thing like she wanted to press you about sharing your emotions. This isn’t an unfamiliar thing for Garcia to do. So you knew the look she was giving you at the time.

“They know who it is. They have a location.” She responded, watching as you reached for your gun and badge. She gave you the address.

“I can kill everyone here!” The unsub now screams, his voice echoing through the tunnel of the subway. You watch as he grips his duffel bag by his side so hard that his knuckles turn white. No one understands, no one can possibly know why he’s doing this. He’s trying to help. He wants everyone to know that THIS is what happens when people are unprepared - when people don’t listen. You see Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss aiming their guns at him rapidly. They’re watching him like hawks watch their prey. But you can tell they’re afraid. “I’ll do it!” Chad shouts.

“Why would you do that?” you ask him calmly, lowering your gun gently and placing it back into your holster, “We have the General of Detrick who wants to meet with you. He’s on his way down right now.”

Hotch quietly speaks into his radio, requesting the General to come down to the subway with them. “He... he is?” Chad asks, his grasp on the duffel bag looser now.

“Of course he is,” you give him a small smile, “You created a strain of anthrax never seen before.”

“I did,” he mumbles to himself, letting go of his duffel bag, “Where is he?” He asks, more forcefully now. When you don’t answer straight away, he grips his bag tighter again, “Where is he?!”

“Right here.” General Whitworth speaks up, descending the subway stairs. He walks to Chad, a calm yet slightly forced smile on his face. “Chad Brown, yes? I’m General Whitworth. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now.”

The way Chad’s face lights up gives you some hope. An unsub like this wants recognition from a high power or authority. Now that he’s getting it, he won’t try anything else. “Really?” Chad mumbles, in awe of the man in front of him.

“Really,” the General responds, “Now, how about we get that bag from you so we can talk, huh?”

Chad nods, removing his bag gently and handing it to another officer. And just like that, Morgan is by Chad's side, handcuffs on his wrists and arresting the confused man. You can’t breathe a sigh of relief yet. Not yet. Turning to Hotch, he hasn’t even put his gun away when you walk up to him.

“Sir,” you get his attention, “Can I - uh, may I go-”

“Go,” he nods, “Go see him.”

Rushing through the emergency wing, you search for him. There are so many people, you almost walk right past him. But there he is, curtains draw around most of his bed as he sleeps. Making your way beside him, the closer you get, the slower you move. God, he looks so tired. He’s always had bags under his eyes but with the way his skin has gone pale, they look multiplied. His forehead glistens with a bit of sweat and his hair is messy. But his vitals seem steady, you sneak a look at his chart, flicking through to the most updated page.

Stable. Positive outcome. Treatment successful.

“Hey... That’s personal information.”

Looking up, you see Spencer squinting down at you as he tries to open his eyes fully. “Spencer,” you breathe out, rushing to his side. You pull the chair closer to his bed, sitting down beside him, “Don’t, don’t move too much. How do you feel?”

He lets out a grunt, ignoring what you say and sitting up anyways, “I’ve been better.” He admits. His voice is still rough and dry, despite there being a glass of water on his bedside table. It must be a side effect.

“Here,” you mutter, gently handing him the glass.

He takes it, hands slightly shaky with weakness as he brings the glass to his mouth and takes a sip. You place it back on the table for him. It’s only then that the two of you share a look. It’s filled with the silence of the curtained square but the bustling hospital outside.

Just like that, solely from being able to meet his gaze, you feel tears beginning to build up in your eyes. “No, no,” he mumbles quietly, arms stretched out towards you, “No, don’t cry.”

Spencer cradles you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest. His hands rub your back, attempting all he can to soothe you as you sob gently against him. “You’re such an idiot,” you grunt against him, pulling back to wipe at your eyes, “You’re such an idiot, you should’ve left that room.”

“You know that I couldn’t,” he responds casually, knowing you don’t mean it - you’re just allowing all the built-up stress to flow out of you now that you’re no longer on the clock. “I’m sorry I had you all worried.” He gives you a small smile, “I’m okay, really. The doctor said I’m going to be fine.”

You nod, inhaling deeply as you sit back in your chair. You hold his hand though, squeezing it tenderly. “I could’ve lost you today,” you admit to him, “All I wanted to do was see you - but I couldn’t. I had to make a stupid map,” you let out a pathetic laugh, “And the whole time I just kept thinking-” you cut yourself off, shutting your eyes as more tears find their way to your cheeks. The same sinking feeling makes your chest ache and you begin to feel like you can’t breathe.

“No, Y/N, it’s-”

“I just - I kept thinking about when I could finally see you. And I - I didn’t want to be late. I kept having this thought that I would rush here and it’d be too late and I - I-“ you sniff, letting out a sob as you shake your head, “I’d just be too late and you’d just be... gone.” You admit to him, letting the tears coat lines down your face. Spencer listens, eyes stuck on you as he tears up at seeing you cry. “I didn’t make it in time and you were alone.”

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.” He squeezes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a long, slow kiss to it before he looks up at you, “And so are you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, giving him a small nod and gentle smile. “Now, come here,” he gives you a smile, gesturing for you to be closer to him.

Letting out a small chuckle, you lean forward to Spence. You meet one another in a slow kiss, savouring this moment. When you pull back, Spencer presses his lips to your forehead.

“I brought Jello.” Sitting back, you turn to see Morgan holding a red cup in his hand. He gives Spencer a grateful smile, “Good to see you, kid.”

“Likewise,” Spencer responds, giving Morgan a friendly expression. Morgan notices the tears on both your faces and the way the two of you try to discreetly wipe them away. But he says nothing, he just sits down beside you and begins to eat his jello as the conversation moves on.

[utterlyinevitable]

5,30 for Ethan x MC throw in all the angst you can ! Thank u 💖

5. things you didn’t say at all 30. things I wish you’d said

From the things you said prompt list. Send me a pairing and number and I’ll write a mini fic!

this fic has gotten way longer than intended.... 

---

Narcissus Sent a Package

Rebecca Lao walked to the Diagnostics Office ready for her shift. She was overjoyed that things started to become semi-normal between her and Ethan after she called him a diva and spoiled brat outside their patient’s house two days ago. She was thankful the awkward tension dissipated. 

Through the glass door she could see, sitting on the round table, where the team of Baz, Becca, June and Ethan met multiple times a day to deliberate on cases, was a basket. A gift basket of a large bouquet of flowers and a box wrapped prettily with a bow. 

The air around the office became strained almost immediately upon Becca’s arrival. 

June stood at the table and immediately turned to the resident, manicured thin eyebrows raised, as she walked in. Ethan was sat at his desk, attention on whatever lay before him. Baz was in a chair eying the basket with an embossed card addressed to the youngest member of the team. 

“You have an admirer,” he spoke. Baz’s eyes were alight with intrigue - this was the most interesting thing to happen in months. 

Becca’s brows furrowed together. Since when did anyone send gifts to the team? Who did she know that would send such a display? 

She crossed the distance to inspect the gift basket. As she reached for the card she got a waft of sweetness from the fresh flowers - A bouquet of sweet pea and daffodil. The pinks and purples and yellows really complimented one another, and looked so out of place in the minimally modern room. 

To herself, Becca read the words on the thick, definitely expensive, ivory card printed in black calligraphy;  

Dr. R ‘2nd is the best’. But I like to think third time’s the charm. Looking forward to it.  - T

The color drained from her face. 

He wouldn’t. 

The entire drunken escapade from weeks prior came rushing back to her all at once;

She knew she shouldn’t indulge another endeavor with the handsome stranger. It was a disaster waiting to happen. God, she hated the way this man smiled - like he was a python devouring her whole. But in the dim light of Donahue’s, Bryce’s encouraging winks and nods from a few stools down, and the free drinks pouring, maybe a dance with the devil was exactly what she needed. A bit of mind numbing sex never hurt anybody, right?

No; 

This wouldn’t hurt Becca, or him, but in time it would hurt Ethan.

'Caroline’ downed her drink and gave Reggie the signal for another shot. Tobias and she clinked glasses as she weighed her options one final time. 

Then they made their way to the bathroom. 

Her eyes flitted from the card to the purposeful gift and back again. 

He did. 

And the intention behind it washed over her. 

Shit.

“Wow, Becca. I didn’t think you had it in you,” June appraised, pulling the resident back to the room of awaiting bystanders. 

Becca folded the card back up and placed it far away from the others reach. “What?” she responded, slightly dazed by this complete and utter spectacle laid out before her - the brazen flaunt of distrust.   

June’s tight smile was all too telling. “Tobias,” she nodded towards the card and raised her eyebrows, “I’m impressed.” 

Of course she read the card first. 

As much as Becca wanted to smack that smirk off of Dr. Hirata’s face she refrained. It wasn’t worth making a scene. The damage was already done. June pulled the trigger with that transparent remark. 

Of course she purposefully said his name out loud.

A pager cut through the gross tension coating the diagnostics office. It was Baz’s and he wordlessly fled the scene. 

“Excuse me,” June left the room in his wake, leaving the inevitable drama to unfold. 

Body tense, Becca hesitantly moved to the present. It was weighted, much too heavy to be a box of chocolates. Stupidly, she stole a glance at Ethan. He was sitting straight up, body turned from her, face stoic and doing his best to be uninterested.  

She went to pull back the glossy purple paper, revealing the gift. Becca managed to uncover it halfway before everything clicked. 

Staring back at her was a sparkly, aged bottle of amber scotch. 

“I...” she pulled the rest of the paper back to reveal the name. 

Fuck. 

“I don’t think this was meant for me.” 

Her words were loud and clear and ringing off the furniture, vibrating all around him. 

And Ethan’s cover was blown; 

“Wha-” he finally looked over at her, curiosity getting the better of him.  

She turned to him and held up the box, “It’s your favorite.” 

He didn’t miss the regret in her eyes. It was a darker amber than the expensive liquid she held. Her tight lips, pressed together and the light flush on her cheeks told him it was true. 

The woman he fell for was involved with Tobias Carrick. 

Ethan moved across the office quickly and with intention, coming just close enough to Becca to inspect the bottle. He did his best to keep a semblance of space between them.  

He held the box in his hands. Inspecting. Deliberating. Letting his mind draw up as many conclusions has possible. 

Her voice cut through, “I didn’t even tell him my real name.”

It was an decibel above a whisper, and not the consolation she meant it to be.

Ethan’s eyes were trained on the scotch. His features unmoving and frozen in place. The only sign of life was the small rise and fall of his chest as he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat.      

Becca wished she hadn’t said anything. Wished that she just took the bouquet and unopened scotch back to her locker so no one had to know her personal business. More than anything, she wished she didn’t do it. She wished she let Tobias Carrick stay that nameless man in the club and pretended not to remember him at Donahue’s that night. 

“Why on earth would you sleep with my ex-best friend, my rival?” It was more rhetorical than anything.  

“We hooked up that’s all.”   

They didn’t have sex. Thank God. 

They were interrupted by loud rapping on the door and Reggie’s voice calling for them to “get another room”. As they put their shirts back on, and Becca was free from Tobias’ warmth between her legs, realization set in. Her heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t do it. Becca denied going home with him and hoped to never see him again. 

Unfortunately for her work forced their hands.   

Ethan couldn’t help but let the a few careful emotions seep through as he barked, “What does that even mean? What does this mean?” He pointed between the flowers and the scotch. 

Becca could feel the bottled up anger emanating off of him. And frankly, it pissed her off. 

Ethan chose to sever any romantic ties they could have had in the name of her professional growth and ethics. It was his choice. As much as Becca didn’t agree, she respected his decision. She’s tried so hard to move on. 

“Okay,” She held up her pointer finger ready to unleash the truth. “The first time I had no idea who he was! He was some rando at a club.”

It took everything in Ethan, every morsel of self control, to keep from asking when the first time was. When she first succumbed to his rival and how many times there were after that. How long after they slept together the night of her hearing did she jump into bed with someone else? How long after kissing him his first night back did she invalidate every single thing she ever said about wanting him? 

He’d rather know about her salacious escapes with the scalpel jockey than with the likes of Tobias Carrick.

“And we did fool around in the bathroom at a bar a few weeks,” Becca continued her explanation on how she came to know the olive skinned stranger. “Then at the Bloom’s it clicked.”  

During her entire soliloquy Ethan didn’t falter. He didn’t even acknowledge her person. His mind moved faster than her explanations. He dissected every word falling tastelessly off her tongue. He weighed the truth of each sentence and collected every scenario hiding in the subtext.  

Becca watched as he mulled. At least, she assumed, he was marinating and assessing her words. Ethan was a statue in front of her. Eyes darker than she’s ever seen and hollow. Devoid of emotion as they stayed locked on the offending item in his white-knuckled hands.  

She wished he would say something, anything. Any words, even venomous ones, would be better than the sullen look on his face. 

Becca thought things were getting better between them; she thought they were making progress. All their differences aside, they were getting along. They were becoming better friends. Becca was one of the rare few people Ethan could actually trust. 

And now... 

With a rueful huff he unceremoniously freed the bottle of its confines. 

Ethan’s mind was reeling - racing a mile a minute as their bodies stood frozen in place. As their bodies protected themselves.

First she weasels her way into his life, driving him to distraction and making him fall for her. She frazzled his mind with intrusive thoughts of her, so strong he needed a sabbatical. Then she’s dismantling the fundamentals of his team, everything he and his mentor worked their careers to build. Now, he feels as if he never really knew her at all. 

Tobias Carrick always coveted everything Ethan Ramsey had; even after their medical school years ended, the distain still existed. Ethan could handle it all - every single dig and undermining being thrown his way. He learned to rise above the schemes every time Tobias tried and failed to outdo him. Ethan Ramsey was capable of moving on, forgetting everything without a second thought. 

Everything except for this. 

This was the one thing he could never overcome. She was the one thing Tobias could win at. 

It never even crossed Ethan’s mind that Tobias could have her too. Even worse were the thoughts of how Tobias could have found her. Did the universe bring them together just as he assumed it divinely brought her into his life? Was he always destined to have to fight with Tobias for all he earned? 

Ethan noted how he could never be narcissistic enough to send a one-night stand a gift basket.

Yet what made Ethan stir the most was how unashamed and brash the gesture was. Aside from the subtext, Ethan could never bring himself to send the woman of his affections flowers - their dynamic was far too complicated for Ethan to send Becca a token of appreciation. 

So he grasped the bottle firmly by the neck and pulled it out of the box with an unsatisfying creak. 

With one blind, emotional action Becca had unknowingly ruined everything they had or could ever be. Ethan Ramsey will never come second to Tobias Carrick. Ethan may have had Becca first, but with her dubious action she made her choice. 

It wasn’t him. 

He carried the bottle back to his desk and sat down.  

“What’re you doing?” Becca questioned from the place she’d been stuck standing in for what felt like eons. Her eyes blinked rapidly as if what she’s been experiencing was just a nightmare and at some point she’ll wake up. 

But this wasn’t an illusion. They both knew that. 

This was how it ended. 

How something that barely even began washed away with the stream of regret.  

“Exactly what Tobias intended,” he half-shrugged. Bending down, pulled out a crystal tumbler from the lower drawer of his desk. “I’m drinking it.”

The nonchalance of his tone scared her. It was late afternoon and Ethan Ramsey was about to have a drink. 

She was about to comment when he spoke first; 

“You’re dismissed.” 

It was definitive. 

He cracked open the bottle and poured a hearty serving, spinning around in his chair to look at the x-rays he’s already seen just so that his back was fully to her. 

Becca wanted to speak, to say something to make things better. 

It was a mistake. 

Back in those days she needed something, anything, to help her get over her all consuming feelings for Ethan and thought Tobias could help - that a random stranger could help numb the pain just a bit longer. 

She wanted to tell Ethan everything - every single thing that led her to the moment of weakness. 

But what was the point in telling him how much his disappearance and constant rejections hurt her? How many times can she tell him she’s fallen in love with him and her heart breaks every time they can’t be together? How she regretted the stranger the moment he had his hand up her skirt. How in the middle of Bloom’s living room her heart stopped beating when Tobias came to light and he learned of her true identity. 

How could she apologize for all of that? 

She was sorry, but sorry wouldn’t change the past. 

It couldn’t change anything. 

________________________________________

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[mydogisveryadorbs]

blue ain't your color | jj maybank

masterlist

summary: song fic based on blue ain’t your color by keith urban.

warnings: mentions of mentally and physically abusive relationships, underage drinking, mentions of drugs, angst, fluff, v soft jj

PSA: this is not in any way meant to idealize or romanticize abusive relationships. if you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship please get help. below are some resources and learning tools. 

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1 (800) 799 – 7233

Love is Respect – National Teen Dating Abuse Hotline: 1 (866) 331 – 9474

more hot lines and info: https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

learn more: https://www.thehotline.org/psa/

lyrics in bold

3.8k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

I can see you over there

Starring at your drink

Watchin' that ice sink

All alone tonight

You look down at your drink, moving the straw in a circular motion causing the ice to swirl around creating a small tornado.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you realize you've been waiting here for almost two hours. 

Your boyfriend was supposed to meet you at Topper’s party at 9. In the first thirty minutes, you weren't surprised. Liam, your kook boyfriend of 10 months, was late for almost everything, so this didn't come as a shock to you. 

When the one hour mark hit you were honestly quite worried. What if he was in an accident? What if he got jumped? Maybe your thoughts were most likely irrational, but you couldn't help but worry about your boyfriend.

One hour later, you had gotten past the worrying stage. Now you were simply angry, no, furious at him. Had he stood you up? Did he forget about you? These thoughts were definitely more rational. It wouldn't be the first time Liam stood you up, but you would make sure it was the last. 

At the beginning of your relationship, everything had been sunshine and butterflies. About two months in, however, he asked you to stop seeing your friends.

You see you were a born and raised pogue. Your dad was a close friend of Big John so you had practically grown up with John B, JJ, and Pope, in more recent years becoming close friends with Kiara.

At first, it was little things. Liam would get upset if you left to hang out with the pogues instead of him. Then one day, he asked you to stop seeing them all together. You, of course, retaliated, telling him that you would never leave your friends. But Liam had a way with words, and not a good way. He told you for months that your friends would never love you and that you were lucky that he had even taken pity on you. Slowly, you started to believe him. You stopped seeing the pogues, pushing everyone who truly loved you out of your life.

Liam became more and more distant as the months went on. He would leave you almost every night to drink and party, not even bothering to let you know where he was headed. The two of you had been fighting nonstop for several weeks. It had gotten physical only a few times and the next morning he would apologize profusely, so you stayed.

Seeing him walk in with two girls wrapped around his waist, nearly two and a half hours late, was the last straw for you.

Grabbing your purse, you walked up to Liam, who's eyes widened with the realization the moment he saw you.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he says, slightly slurring his words as his arms still holding the two skinny blondes at his sides, “It's not what it looks like.” You can see his red-rimmed eyes and dilated pupils, telling you that he was coked out. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that this was it for you. “Really, Liam,” you snap back, “‘Cause it looks like we are done here.”

Liam’s eyes widen in shock, never having seen you lash out like this before. He shakes it off and his expression quickly contorts into one of disgust. “Okay,” he says with a shrug, “Good luck finding someone else to take pity on a whore like you, dirty pogue.” He walks away with the two girls, leaving you in shock.

It takes a moment for you to realize that you had just ended this almost one-year relationship. 

The first emotion you feel is one of freedom and relief. No more would you have to be held down by this weight of not being able to do and say what you want.

That feeling slowly dissipates as the feeling of dread starts to overcome it. You had pushed away all of your friends for this boy who had let you go like you were nothing to him. Maybe you were nothing.

You walk back to the bar area, grabbing another drink, feeling the need to drown away your sorrows.

And chances are

You're sittin' here in this bar

'Cause he ain't gonna treat you right

JJ Maybank hated kook parties with a passion.

Thankfully he hadn't had the opportunity to attend too many of them in his lifetime. But now that John B was macking on Sarah Cameron, it wasn't uncommon for the blonde boy to get dragged along to one of these events.

John B had left JJ to fend for himself as soon as they had arrived at the party, slipping off somewhere to find Sarah. JJ looked around the extravagant home that belonged to one of his enemies, Topper Thornton. His ring clad fingers fiddled with an expensive-looking vase, trying to find the perfect moment to snag it and slip away.

JJ’s eyes filtered through the crowd when they landed on something, or rather someone, that he had least expected to see.

His hand slipped from the vase, letting his gaze drink you in. You definitely looked different. Your once long hair was now cut just below your shoulders and your typical style of denim shorts and a cropped shirt was exchanged for a lavish-looking dress and sparkly stilettos.

JJ admits that he probably wouldn't have recognized you if he hadn't spent so many years unable to take his eyes off of you whenever the pogues were together.

The boy had loved his life long best friend since the day she clocked a boy in the face for making fun of JJ’s worn-out clothes. They were seven. In addition to being the day JJ had met (Y/N) and John B, it was also the day he fell in love with the (Y/E/C) eyed girl.

When you started dating your kook boyfriend at the beginning of your junior year, JJ was initially devastated. He soon brought himself to realize, however, that a lowlife like him would never be able to deserve someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as you. His thoughts were confirmed when you abruptly stopped hanging around the pogues and him. You were too good for him. The blonde boy had no idea of the pain that Liam had caused you in the past ten months.

Now looking at you, JJ could see that you were upset. He had gotten really good at analyzing your body language over the many years of being your best friend.

All thoughts of stealing the vase flew out of his mind as his feet started in your direction.

Well, it's probably not my place

But I'm gonna say it anyway

'Cause you look like

You haven't felt the fire

Had a little fun

Hadn't had a smile in a little while

You felt a figure move to sit in the bar stool chair next to you, but you choose to ignore whoever it is, not particularly feeling up to socializing with a contemptuous kook after what you just went through.

The figure didn't move after a few minutes so you turn to look at them with a glare in your eyes, ready to snap at them and ask them to leave you alone. Your gaze immediately softens as you realize the person next to you is in fact the last person you would ever expect to see at a party like this, JJ Maybank.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes as you continue to stare at the side profile of the blonde boy who hasn't yet turned to face you. 

Everything you had done so well to hide over the last ten years of knowing and loving him comes rushing back. Your love for the boy next to you consumes every fiber of your being. 

A lone tear falls down your cheek as you begin to curse yourself and Liam. How did I let him control me into giving this up? This feeling?

Blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

JJ finally turns his head to look at you and feels his entire resolve crumble. You were crying. The sight nearly breaks his heart in two.

His eyes lock with yours and he can see the pain and heartache swirling within them.

“What did he do to you,” JJ mutters, letting his eyes roam the crowd for the boy he despises most in the world. Almost a year of suppressed anger starts to bubble up to the surface.

“JJ,” you whimper.

The sadness and hopelessness in your voice makes every ounce of anger in him evaporate as he turns his head to look at you again. The look in your eyes tells him that the kook boy had hurt you worse than he ever knew.

JJ wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms and never let anything else in the world harm you. His hands itch to wipe the tears off your face and pull your head to his chest.

However, JJ also wants you to be as comfortable as possible and he's not sure if you're ready for the amount of love he has to give you just yet.

You surprise the blonde boy by reaching out to your arms out to him. The blonde wastes no time in standing up and pulling your body flush to his chest.

Everyone else in the world disappears as the two of you clutch each other with all you have. Both of you realize how much you had missed the comfort of each other's embrace. 

You're not sure how long you stand there like that, face nuzzled into JJ’s shoulder as the boy strokes your hair comfortingly.

“I'm sorry,” you mumble into his shirt, not willing to pull away from the warmth he radiates.

JJ’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as he pulls away enough to look down at you. “What do you mean,” he asks with a softness in his voice that is reserved for you only, gently lifting your chin so that you are looking into his beautiful cerulean eyes.

You sniffle. “I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for breaking down in front of you. I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess. But most of all, I'm sorry for ever believing that I could live without you. I-I mean if it weren't for you I don't know what I would do. I understand if you don't want to talk to-” your ramble is suddenly cut off by JJ pressing his lips to yours.

The boy knows that this is probably not the best time to confess his feelings towards you, but he can't watch you talk down about yourself like that anymore. Do you not know how much he adores you? 

The kiss is soft and passionate. JJ can taste your salty tears on his slightly chapped lips as they work against yours. Both of you poor every ounce of emotion you have into the kiss. 

JJ reluctantly pulls away when the two of you run out of air, placing his forehead delicately on yours as your arms wrap around his neck.

I'm tellin' you

You don't need that guy

It's so black and white

He's stealin' your thunder

Baby, blue ain't your color

Both of you pant as you look into each other's eyes. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” JJ says, as the smile you cherish so much graces his features.

“Really?” you ask and JJ can hear the vulnerability in your voice. What did that shithead do to you to make you so insecure?

“You have no idea, baby,” he says, tenderly kissing away the tear that has slipped out of your eye and onto your cheek.

Not having the words to express how you feel about the boy in front of you, you pull his head back down, kissing him so sweetly that it makes his knees buckle.

“JJ,” you whisper as you pull away, but you never get to finish your statement because you are suddenly ripped out of his embrace.

“You fucking whore,” Liam seethes at you taking a stride towards you and you instinctively take a step back. “You break up with me and two minutes later you've moved onto another guy. Slut.” His words cut you deep and you know by the tone of his voice that a punch to the gut or a slap to the face is coming. Liam raises his hand and you brace yourself for impact, but it never comes.

The sound of yelling fills your senses and you open your eyes to see JJ punching Liam in the face repeatedly. You are frozen as you watch the scene in front of you.

“JJ,” you hear John B yell, turning to look at him, “You're gonna kill him.”

Your eyes widen in realization at his words and you take a step forward.

“JJ,” you call, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of everyone yelling around you. You clear your throat and try again, louder. “JJ.”

This time JJ stops mid punch, turning to look at you. Fear fills your body when you see that his wide, normally baby blue eyes are nearly black.

His gaze softens as he takes in your anxious look.

JJ steps away from the beat-up boy and you see a few of his friends pull Liam’s limp body away. You lock your eyes back to JJ’s and he takes a careful step towards you causing you to involuntarily flinch back slightly.

I'm not tryna

Be another just

Pick you up

Kinda guy

Tryna drink you up

Tryna take you home

He wants to cry out at the sight. Don't you know that he would rather die than ever hurt you? 

You do know this, and you're not afraid of the boy in the slightest, but the last five minutes have put you on edge.

Seeing the broken look in the blonde’s eyes, you take quick steps toward his body, wrapping him in your embrace. He melts into your arms, allowing his face to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

The crowd that had formed around the fight disperses, realizing the show is over.

“(Y/N).” The sound of your name being called pulls your attention away from the sweet boy in your arms.

You pull away from JJ slightly, still keeping an arm around his bicep.

Looking over, you see John B standing to the side with Sarah Cameron. You had heard about the two of them getting together and you suddenly realize why JJ happened to be at this party.

The sadness in John B’s eyes as he looks at you breaks your heart. The two of you have been like sister and brother your whole lives and, besides JJ, he was the hardest for you to stop talking to.

You feel JJ’s grip on you loosen, urging you to go to John. The two of you walk towards each other and John B pulls you into his arms. 

“I missed you, (Y/N/N),” he says unto your hair, “So much.”

You smile, tears softly rolling down your cheeks. “I missed you too, JB,” you say, pulling away to look at JJ who looks back with a sad smile on his face.

But I just don't understand

How another man

Can take your sun

And turn it ice cold

The four of you decided it was best to leave. John B dropped Sarah off at her house and drove the three of you back to the Chateau. Your stomach drops at the sight of the small shack.

JJ notices your facial expression, placing his hand softly on top of yours. “You okay?” he asks gently as John B parks the van.

You nod with a small smile and JJ helps you out of the van, holding your hand as he leads you to the porch. You stop walking, causing the two boys to turn around and look at you.

“I'm sorry,” you say, tears pooling in your eyes again. JJ gives you a knowing look. “(Y/N),” he says, almost sternly.

“No,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Let me talk.” JJ nods and John B looks at you expectantly. “I left you. Both of you. I- Liam, he just made me feel so useless and I didn't want to be a bother to you guys anymore.”

JJ lets out a sound, almost like a growl, and pulls you into a hug. “You are not useless, (Y/N),” he says seriously, “You are so important, to both of us, and we missed you so much.”

You nod into his chest as John B comes to wrap his arms around both of you.

The three of you group hug and you sigh contently, happy to be back with your boys.

Well, I've had enough to drink

And it's makin'

Me think that I just might

Tell you if I were a painter I wouldn't change ya

I'd just paint you bright

John B helps JJ set up the pull out while you change into a pair of John B’s sweats and JJ’s t-shirt. John B says goodnight and goes to “hit the hay” as he puts it, leaving you and JJ alone again.

“I'll sleep on the other couch and you can take the bed,” he says sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

The two of you settle into your “beds”, but you can't seem to fall asleep with so many thoughts running through your mind.

Everything that has happened since you left the pogues seems like one big sad blur. Your mind wanders to JJ. What does this mean for you two? 

“(Y/N),” the voice you love so much calls. You hum in response. “You ‘wake?” he asks. You sit up in the pullout shaking your head.

“Can't sleep,” you say, rubbing your eyes. 

JJ sits up as well. “M’sorry, baby,” the nickname makes your heart flutter.

You open your arms for the boy who looks at you warily. “Are you sure, (Y/N),” he asks. You nod quickly and he stands up, falling into the pullout and wrapping you into his arms. He tucks your head under his chin, pulling you closer.

“JJ,” you ask.

It's his turn to hum in response. “This may be weird for you, but I feel like I just have to say it,” you tell him. JJ pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. He's worried about what you are going to say but tries to hide it for your sake. “I love you, J.”

JJ smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his nose with yours in an Eskimo kiss. “I love you too,” he says sincerely, but you're afraid he doesn't understand what you mean.

“No, J,” you say, looking away from his eyes, “I love you. Like, I'm in love with you.”

The blonde boy only smiles bigger. He leans down pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, pulling away when you run out of air. JJ trails sweet kisses down your jaw and neck before placing one last kiss on your lips.

“I'm in love with you too (Y/N),” he says kissing your forehead. JJ wonders how he went so long without being able to kiss you and hold you. Even after only confessing a few hours ago, it feels so natural to have you in his arms. The thought of not having you makes his heart ache. 

“I have to ask you something, but you can say no and it won't change anything and I understand that this is hard because of everything that just happened,” JJ rambles. You kiss his jaw softly, urging him to continue. “Will you be mine. Ya know. Like my girlfriend, or whatever.”

You smile wide. “Of course I'll be yours, J.”

JJ copies your smile leaning down to press another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away, snuggling into you, and the both of you bask in the feeling of being in each other's arms. Your hand reaches up to play with JJ’s hair as your eyes start to droop.

“Love ya, pretty girl.”

“Love you too, J.”

'Cause blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

You are sitting down on a beach towel, watching the sun slowly fall into the ocean, lighting the sky with a beautiful rainbow of colors. Your feet are outstretched in front of you and your hands prop you up behind your back. The Outer Banks heat is making your skin warm, but you don't mind, letting the steadily depleting sun hit your skin.

You watch as JJ catches another wave, surfing it perfectly. You giggle as he raises his hand in a fist, clapping for him. 

It's been two weeks since you finally ended things with Liam. You were able to mend things with the rest of the pogues and Kiara and Pope welcomed you back with open arms. Things with JJ have been going amazing. The two of you agreed to take things slowly seeing as you were just getting out of a toxic relationship. It was different to finally be in a place with JJ where you weren't afraid to show him and tell him how you feel, but you loved it.

JJ runs towards you, gripping his board in one hand as the other pushes back his blonde locks.

When he gets to your towel, JJ throws down his board and plops down next to you, pulling you into a sweet hug.

You giggle. “You're all wet, J,” you say, not making any move to get out of his warm embrace. The boy peppers your face with soft kisses causing you to giggle even more.

A few minutes later you are seated in between JJ’s legs and he has his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

“I love you, J,” you say, still watching the sunset.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” JJ says kissing your neck. He begins humming the tune to a song you recognize. 

“Blue ain't your color, umm mm,” he sings, “No, no baby, come here baby, let me light up your world.”

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