#i think they'd become friends and just... one day... hold hands... and be like... man... we've really been through it haven't we...

[bugeyedfreaks]

yet another big brained ppg ship idea of mine: these two bonding over their shared trauma, eventually creating a wholesome romance for the ages

top ten moments before unimaginable horrors

[iceunhie]

— KISSES OR KISSES? : honkai star rail

premise. testing out your new lipstick is no fun (normally), so what better way to make use of it by kissing your lover senseless? not to mention, leaving a little something behind.... (aka, lipstick kisses with them.)

ft. blade, dan heng, boothill, dr. ratio, aventurine !

warnings: feminine reader! reader is ultimately genderless but you may interpret this as fem!reader if you want, reader wears lipstick. nicknames hehe, boothill is his own warning, mid writing tbh, unedited

a/n. the lipstick trend does not escape me at all 😞😞 but this consumed me so now i write about it ijbol

MAIN MASTERLIST || PART 2 (sunday, jing yuan, gallagher, sampo, gepard.)

“what are you doing?”

BLADE ceases all functions. like, immediately.

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

“....”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[alsofoundinpeas]

Crossing the Line

Summary: Y/N never expected to fall for her roommate, Spencer, but when she becomes unexpectedly jealous of a girl flirting with him, she realizes she's in love with him. The problem is... how does she tell him that without ruining everything?

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Roommates/friends to lovers/two idiots in love trope. Jealous reader. Heavy making out. Dry humping (huge supporter of this I say bring it back!!). A small teensy bit of angst as reader struggles to accept her feelings. Insecure Spencer (sweet angel boy).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

Requested fic!! 🥳: I absolutely loved the fic you just wrote about Spencer and reader friends to lovers (and omg you write smut so well 😍) and I was wondering if you could write another one but maybe they’re roommates or something?

A/N: College!Spencer AU ahh!! Thank you so very much to the anon that requested this :’) <3 I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know this isn't my usual, all-out smut buttt there will be a part two for these two, so stay tuned. :') As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N never imagined she'd be rooming with a man, let alone one as… peculiar as Spencer Reid. Not in a bad way, of course—just, well, peculiar. Spencer was the last person Y/N expected to respond to her ad for a roommate, but she was glad he did.

At barely twenty-one, he already had two bachelor’s degrees and was deep into his third PhD. He’d graduated high school at twelve (an IQ of 187 had a way of doing that, she supposed), skipping the years most kids spent developing their social skills. As a result, he was incredibly awkward and nerdy, but Y/N found this more endearing than off-putting.

As a roommate, he was exceptional: he kept things tidy, wasn’t obnoxiously loud (even with their paper-thin walls), never had people over (which meant Y/N spent more time with him, as she didn’t have guests either), and even helped her study, despite her insistence she could handle it on her own (they both knew better). As a friend, he was even better—always listening to her ramble about anything and everything, joining her for their now-regular movie nights, and offering a shoulder to cry on when needed (and she was always there for him in return).

In the six months they'd lived together, they'd grown incredibly close. Y/N was even smugly certain that they had avoided the classic 'falling for your roommate' scenario—until Spencer came home ranting about a girl in his class.

“I mean, seriously! How hard is it to grab a paper without touching someone?” Spencer huffed, plopping down onto the couch next to her and reaching for the popcorn bowl that sat securely in her lap.

It took about three months of living together before Spencer felt comfortable enough to do things like share snacks during their movie nights or indulge in the occasional moment of physical affection.

Y/N never took it personally, understanding his aversion to germs (one of the first things he’d said when they met was that kissing was safer than shaking hands, and she’d almost jokingly taken him up on it). Every time Spencer felt comfortable enough to share food with her (like he was doing now) or lean into her on the heavier days, letting her hold him until the world felt a little lighter, her chest swelled with pride. It made her happy to know he trusted her enough to let his guard down like that.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she listened to his rant. Apparently, a girl in the class he TA'd for had been getting on his nerves for weeks, but this was the first she’d heard about it. It didn’t surprise her—Spencer tended to bottle things up until they reached a breaking point, and then he'd unload it all at once, just like he was doing now.

"She’s always staring at me, too. Every time I glance up, there she is—staring and chewing on the end of her pen. It gives me the creeps," Spencer grumbled, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled it.

"Wait wait wait," Y/N stopped his rant with furrowed brows. "What did you say this girl's name was?"

"Her name’s Wren Davidson. You might know her—or at least know of her. I'm pretty sure she's in a few of the same classes as you," Spencer said, pausing to snack on some popcorn, though by now, their movie was all but forgotten as the starting menu looped on the screen. "She’s about 5'6", has dark brown hair with some highlights, and green eyes."

Y/N pressed her tongue to her cheek, thinking for a moment. The name sounded strangely familiar…

"Oh! I know who you mean—she's in my 8:00 AM lecture with Professor James on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Y/N said, snapping her fingers as she remembered. She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, then tilted her head. "So, just to recap—she's asking you questions instead of the professor, touching you whenever you hand out papers, staring at you… and what else?"

Spencer adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, clearly frustrated.

"She’s been bringing me coffee lately, even though I’ve told her a million times I don’t want it because you always make it just the way I like before I leave and I don't need more. And when she doesn’t bring coffee, it’s some kind of baked good. I don’t get it! If she’s looking for favoritism, why not try to suck up to the professor? I’m just the TA."

A sudden tightness gripped Y/N’s chest as she processed his words. It was clear now—Wren was flirting with him. But why did that thought send an unexpected wave of discomfort through her? Jealousy, maybe? No, that didn’t make sense... Why would she be jealous?

“She’s not looking for favoritism, Spence. She’s looking for a way to get into your pants,” Y/N snickered, ignoring yet another wave of unease that crashed into her at the mental image of Spencer actually having sex with Wren. Anyone would be uncomfortable thinking about their roommate having sex… right? That was a perfectly normal reaction.

Spencer suddenly choked on the popcorn he’d just popped into his mouth, coughing violently and startling Y/N. Without thinking, she leaned over, gently patting his back as concern flooded her expression. When the coughing finally subsided into a weak wheeze, she reached for his glass of water on the coffee table and handed it to him with a worried glance.

"Jesus, Spencer! Are you okay?"

"Why would you say that?"

Spencer's voice was unnervingly high, his face flushed from both the coughing fit and his growing embarrassment. He took a slow sip of water, trying to steady his racing heart. Setting the glass down with trembling hands, he adjusted his crooked glasses, his gaze avoiding hers. "For the record," he muttered, his voice tinged with insecurity, "I highly doubt she’s trying to… get in my pants."

Y/N's expression softened from concern to sympathy as her hand moved to rub his knee in comfort.

She remembered the first (and only) time she’d gotten Spencer to drink with her, how, in his tipsy state, he’d opened up about his painful past. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he’d shared how brutally he’d been bullied as a child prodigy, and how those experiences had led him to avoid romantic relationships for fear of humiliation and rejection. That night marked the turning point in their relationship, transforming them from roommates who got along to actual friends—a change she would forever be grateful for.

"You’re too hard on yourself," Y/N said gently. "Trust me on this one. As a woman, I can tell you with absolute certainty—she's flirting with you." She added, her tone matter-of-fact.

Spencer gave her a doubtful look, but after a moment, his shoulders slumped in reluctant acceptance as he began to entertain the possibility. "We’ll see," he muttered, grabbing the remote and finally starting their movie night.

It turned out Y/N had been right.

Three weeks had passed without a word from Spencer about it, and Y/N figured Wren had gotten the message and moved on. But then she began to notice Wren walking into class with a little extra bounce in her step, a shy, almost giddy smile lighting up her face as she sat down. Y/N shrugged it off… until she noticed Spencer doing the exact same thing.

Spencer began coming home later and later after class, a goofy grin on his face as he wandered through the apartment or headed to his room. Y/N didn’t ask any questions, knowing he’d share whatever was making him so happy when he was ready—though she had a pretty strong hunch about who it was. By the fourth week, he finally felt comfortable enough to confide in her.

"You won’t believe this, but I finally just asked Wren straight up if she was flirting with me… and she said yes!" Spencer said, his excitement clear as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/N cook. "We’ve been spending time together after class, and, uh… I asked her out on a date for this Friday!"

Y/N froze mid-stir, caught off guard by the sudden pang of sadness that hit her. Why did she feel this way? She should be happy for him—he was her closest friend, after all. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to keep stirring as she pushed the unsettling thoughts aside for the moment.

"That’s great, Spence!" Y/N said, though her voice came out a bit tighter than usual. "So… what do you have planned for your date?"

Spencer began to ramble excitedly about what he had planned for Friday, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. All it did was seem to make the feeling of dread and hurt creeping up on her worse, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why Spencer talking about his date had her so bothered. Maybe it was because she hadn't been on a date in over a year, having avoided the dating scene after her last breakup. That had to be it.

Y/N nodded absentmindedly, her mind fixated on the uneasy feeling growing inside her rather than his words. It had been so long since she’d felt anything like this, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make sense of why it was happening.

She wasn’t blind. She knew Spencer was ridiculously attractive (even if his wardrobe seemed to be straight out of an elderly man’s fashion catalog). And he was kind, thoughtful, and attentive—anyone would be lucky to date him. Yet, despite all that, she’d always seen him as nothing more than a friend. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Fortunately, the timer went off, cutting Spencer off mid-sentence. He quickly shifted gears, helping her dish out their food. They moved to the living room, ready to enjoy their meal and unwind with TV, as they always did.

Spencer couldn’t help but notice that Y/N was quieter than usual. She didn’t join in with her usual banter during the show, instead taking absent-minded bites, taking bites between distant, unfocused stares at the screen. His brow furrowed as he put his fork down, observing her slowly push her food around without really eating.

"Y/N… are you alright?" Spencer asked, lowering the volume on the TV. "You’ve barely touched your food."

"Hm?" Y/N looked up, offering a faint smile as she shrugged. "Yeah… I’m fine, Spence. Just a little tired, I guess."

He didn’t fully buy it, but he decided not to push further. "How about a nap in my lap while I grade papers, then? After dinner, of course. I don’t want your head in my food," Spencer joked, pleased with himself. His lame humor had her rolling her eyes and grinning, stifling a laugh.

That had become normal for them: napping or cuddling, quick pecks on the cheek or top of the head when one of them left, cooking and eating together… the list went on. But the more Y/N thought about it, the more she realized it didn’t exactly align with typical roommate behavior. Or maybe it did, and she was just overanalyzing, letting the strange feeling she couldn’t shake make her paranoid.

"That sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, silently hoping the nap would help clear her mind.

They finished dinner, chatting between bites about their day. Spencer, ever the gentleman, told her to stay on the couch while he cleared their plates and rinsed them. After grabbing the stack of papers he needed to grade for Professor Hartman from his room, he returned, settling back onto the couch with a grin as he patted his lap.

Y/N eased into his lap, stretching her legs out across the couch as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. Spencer ran a hand down her back as she settled in, giving her hip a gentle pat before picking up the first paper to grade.

It didn't take long for Y/N to drift off in his arms, her breath warm against his skin as he graded papers. The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of her breathing, the rustling of the papers as he flipped through them, and the occasional hum of a car passing outside. Spencer paused his grading, his gaze drifting down to Y/N as she slept peacefully in his arms. A fond expression softened his features as he watched her, her calmness soothing him. Slowly, he reached up and caressed her cheek with his knuckles, then resumed his work, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer.

Spencer’s eyelids drooped as he made his way through the last few papers, small yawns escaping him between each one. When he finished, he quietly set the stack on the coffee table, taking care not to disturb Y/N. With a gentle shift, he settled back into the cushions, bringing one hand to cradle her head as he adjusted their position on the couch. He carefully maneuvered so he could stretch out before pulling her closer, tucking her into his side.

It was late enough that Spencer didn’t see the need to wake her; he knew if he did, she’d be up for hours. Reaching behind him, he turned off the lamp, letting the room fall into darkness. The soft rhythm of her breathing eased him, and soon, he drifted off, her warmth grounding him. In minutes, they were both asleep, entwined in the quiet comfort of each other’s arms.

As the week passed, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to cope with the thought of Spencer going on his date with Wren. Every time he brought it up, she quickly steered the conversation elsewhere or found an excuse to slip away, guilt gnawing at her with every evasive move. She hated herself for it—he was genuinely excited, and she didn’t want to ruin that. But every mention of the date made her stomach twist, and she couldn’t bring herself to face it without feeling like she was being torn apart.

Y/N finally understood why the idea of him going on a date was so devastating to her nervous system.

Late Tuesday night, as Y/N lay awake in bed, a sudden, jarring realization hit her: she had fallen in love with Spencer. Somewhere over the past seven months, amid shared laughs, quiet moments, and unexpected tenderness, she had fallen hopelessly for the brilliant, quirky man she had sworn she'd never fall for.

And now, because she was a spineless coward who was too afraid to risk their friendship by speaking up, she found herself helping Spencer get ready for his date.

"Spencer, seriously—hold still! I'm almost done," Y/N grumbled, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she fixed his hair.

Spencer let out an exasperated sigh but stopped shifting, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on her. She was so close now that he could almost taste the minty freshness of her gum, her breath brushing his face making him more flustered than he expected. He nervously twiddled his fingers in his lap, his curiosity piqued as he waited to see how she had tamed his unruly strands.

"There you go. What do you think?" Y/N grinned proudly, stepping back to give him space as he stood from where he was sitting on the toilet lid, turning to face the bathroom mirror.

Spencer turned his head from side to side, eyes lingering on his reflection. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he examined himself. For the first time, he felt it—he felt good. Like he could finally see what Y/N saw when she insisted he was handsome. Instead of his typical gelled, slicked-down look, she'd arranged his hair to accentuate his face, giving his features a more defined, natural appeal.

"I... Y/N, I love it. Thank you," Spencer breathed earnestly, turning to pull her into a warm hug.

Y/N smiled gently, wrapping her arms around him. The newfound confidence in his eyes was enough to ease the ache in her chest about his date. At least, she thought, he was finally seeing himself the way she always had—worthy and deserving of feeling this good.

“Of course, Spence. Anything for you,” she murmured, the words feeling heavier than she intended. She meant it, though. She would do anything for him—even if it meant shattering her own heart along the way.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N released a long, shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the cool wood for a moment before slowly making her way to Spencer's room. He had told her not to wait up, mentioning he planned on going to Wren’s afterward. So, she curled up in his blanket, clutching his pillow to her chest, trying to let the comfort of his familiar scent quiet her restless mind.

Less than five minutes passed before the tears began to fall, each one soaking into the fabric of his pillow as a sob broke free from her chest. She felt pathetic. There she was, crumpled in his bed while he was out on a date, all because she couldn’t find the courage to tell him how she felt—too afraid to admit the truth, convinced that he could never feel the same way about her.

The hours slipped by in a blur, her tears long gone as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Too weary to move to her own bed, she simply tossed her pants to his floor, closed her eyes, and let sleep take over in the comfort of his sheets. She'd remake his bed in the morning before he got home, hoping he'd never know about the quiet, tearful night she'd spent there.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his fingers grazing his scalp as he quietly unlocked the door and stepped into the dark apartment. The date had gone fine, nothing awful… but there was a difference between nice and right. Wren was nice, but she wasn’t the one his heart had been quietly waiting for. That person was the other half of this apartment, likely fast asleep in her room, just as he’d told her to be—and he couldn’t shake the feeling she should’ve been the one he’d been out with tonight.

Spencer hung his jacket on the coat rack and slipped off his shoes, setting them neatly by the door. He headed toward his room, eager to leave the awkwardness of the evening behind and looking forward to starting the next day with the one person who truly made his world feel right. Though Y/N wasn’t his, there was a quiet comfort in knowing she was always the first face he’d see each morning. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell her how he felt. But for now, he was content cherishing their friendship.

He couldn't shake the slight guilt he felt for Wren, a cringe running through him as he replayed the moment she'd tried to kiss him when he dropped her off. When she leaned in, he'd jerked back instinctively, his eyes wide in shock, leaving her face flushed with embarrassment. He’d apologized immediately, of course, and she’d been kind enough to accept it before hurriedly retreating into her house. Still, he couldn't help but feel the discomfort linger, knowing their interactions in class would be uncomfortable from here on out.

Spencer pushed open his door, too exhausted to bother with the light as he shrugged off his clothes, blindly stumbling toward the bed. He let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the mattress—only to freeze when something beneath him let out a loud, panicked yelp. He scrambled back in shock, crashing to the floor in a clumsy heap, cursing loudly.

"What the fuck?" Spencer gasped, reaching for his lamp from the ground as he quickly sat up.

Y/N blinked at him in startled surprise, her brow furrowed and mouth slightly agape as she took in the sight of him sprawled on the floor. Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him, his body sagging as he realized she wasn’t some weird, perverted burglar waiting for him. Still, as the shock wore off, confusion crept in. Why was she in his bed?

“Are you alright?” Y/N squeaked, instinctively reaching down to help Spencer back onto the bed. Her mind was still foggy with sleep, and her heart was racing from the jarring wake-up call.

Spencer quickly slid under the covers, suddenly self-conscious of his state of undress, his face flushing as he glanced at her. He cleared his throat and gave a small nod. "I'm good, just… uh, why are you in my bed?"

Y/N hesitated, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she searched for an excuse that wouldn't sound ridiculous. But nothing came to mind. With a deep breath, she finally decided to just tell him the truth.

"I… I wasn't handling your date with Wren very well," Y/N confessed, her voice low. "I came in here hoping to get some peace because being near you usually makes me feel better. But instead, I just ended up crying myself to sleep in your bed. I'm really sorry," she added, her brows knitting together as she looked at him. "Wait—why are you here? I thought you were going to stay at Wren's."

Spencer’s expression softened as he took in her words. “I chose to come home,” he said quietly. “Wren’s nice, but tonight made me realize there’s really only one person I want across from me, or kissing me, or… anything else.” He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “But what do you mean you weren’t handling my date well? Why did you cry yourself to sleep, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, a wave of worry washing over her as her fatigue made it harder to hold back what she was feeling. Who could he possibly be talking about? She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before she finally spoke.

“I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “And, Spence… I think I’m in love with you. I’ve probably been in love with you for a long time, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. Every time I thought about you with her, I felt so… sick. So jealous. Because I wanted to be the one you were with. I wanted to be the one you fell in love with.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unguarded. It was out in the open now. There was nothing left to hide.

To her surprise, Spencer let out a soft chuckle. Before she had a chance to take offense, he reached for her hands, holding them gently as he spoke.

"Y/N… you're already the one I've fallen in love with," Spencer confessed, his voice steady as his eyes held hers. "You're the reason I came back. As I sat across from her, it hit me—there’s no one else in this world that I’d rather be with than you."

Y/N blinked hard, ensuring that she wasn’t asleep and that this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t. He was still there when she opened her eyes, sitting cross legged and vulnerable (and enticingly bare under the covers) before her as he waited for her to respond. He tilted his head at that, laughing softly as his face scrunched in confusion.

“What are you doing, silly girl? I confess my love to you and your response is to blink at me like an owl?” Spencer teased, his nose twitching as he grinned.

Y/N huffed out a laugh of her own, gently squeezing his hands as she shook her head. “I’m sorry! I just— I wanted to make sure this was real,” she murmured, her eyes falling to their hands in her lap.

“Would… would a kiss help to solidify that it’s real?” Spencer offered, a shy smile on his face.

Y/N’s eyes widened at that, baffled but pleased with his newfound confidence. Maybe she should do his hair more often. Without a word, she nodded eagerly, leaning forward to gently capture his lips with her own.

The press of his lips against hers sent her spinning, as though reality itself was slipping away and all that remained was the grounding warmth of his hands cradling her face. Spencer’s kiss was all-encompassing—like she was the very breath he needed to live. She craved more, desperate to fan the flames between them until the heat ignited, consuming them both from within.

Spencer’s lips never left hers as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate movement. He carefully lowered her to the bed, his hands supporting her as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. "Feel real enough for you, yet?" he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, the faintest brush of his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away for even a second.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his teasing, lacing her fingers into his hair to tug gently in retaliation. The whine he let out sent a sharp pang of desire up her spine, and she tugged harder just to hear it again.

“Mm, not yet. I think you’ll have to do it again to really convince me.”

The words barely filled the space between them before his lips were back on hers. She let out a soft exhale as his hips settled against hers, unable to help the giggles that slipped free when she felt his hard cock pressing against her through his boxers. She wasn’t laughing at him, not at all. She was just lost in pure, blissful joy, reveling in the realization that he was finally hers.

“Stop giggling and kiss me back,” Spencer muttered, his voice laced with playful frustration, but her laughter was contagious, and soon he was laughing too. Their lips remained pressed together, but it was more of a chaotic, shared moment than an actual kiss. As they pulled away, both of them breathless, the last of his nerves melted away, and they simply stared at each other, the connection now clearer than ever.

Spencer had imagined plenty of times what it would look like to have her splayed underneath him in his bed (thoughts that were shamefully fueled by her soft sounds of pleasure through their shared wall whenever she thought he was asleep). Nothing his imagination had dreamed up could ever compare to the sight before him. She looked utterly captivating, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, eyes looking up at him with that familiar warmth. He always thought she was beautiful, without a doubt. But in this moment? She was a living, breathing work of art. A stunning, half-dressed masterpiece who was wrapping her legs around his waist with a shit-eating grin and—

“Oh—!”

Spencer squeaked as Y/N arched her hips into his again, grinding against him in a way that provided delicious friction against his aching cock. Spencer had never been more turned on than he was in this moment, the need thrumming through his veins driving him to rock gently against her in return.

Y/N’s grin faltered as her breath hitched, her brows pinching together as he began to thrust shakily against her through their underwear. Her mouth dropped open into a silent gasp as the head of his arousal brushed against her clit through the thin fabric, a helpless whine leaving her lips shortly after as he repeated the movement.

They were both too tired and too in love to rush their first time together (and Spencer’s first time in general), so they settled for this: the steady push and pull of their hips grinding together as their lips began to devour each other’s once more. The room quickly filled with their muffled noises of pleasure; soft moans and whimpers between passionate kisses and the rustling of his covers as they moved against each other creating an explicit symphony.

Spencer’s movements became more fervent as Y/N licked into his mouth, her nails dragging across his shoulder blades encouraging him to keep going. His body trembled as he felt her arousal dampening the front of his boxers, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat. She was soaked. All because of him.

Y/N’s head tipped back against his pillows, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach. His lips immediately moved to the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking gently at the skin there between whimpers of her name. It felt erotic, the both of them so turned on despite their exhaustion that they couldn’t help their movements, desperate to experience the other falling apart.

She’d make it up to him later, when she could actually take her time with him and make his first time something special, something memorable. But for now, she was perfectly content with this.

“Spence I’m—“ Y/N gasped, tangling her fingers into his hair as she began to writhe underneath him. “I’m about to—“

Her orgasm washed over her like a cold bucket of water, yanking the air from her lungs and making her body tense up as she cried out his name and clung to him. Spencer groaned alongside her, pulling his head from the crook of her neck so that he could watch her in awe. The sight alone almost had him cumming, his movements growing frantic as he chased his pleasure.

Her soft whines urged him closer and closer to the finish line as he rutted against her, and all he could manage was a soft shout of her name before his climax took hold of him, his cock throbbing against her as he spilled into his boxers. He collapsed against her, thrusting weakly with small whimpers to ride out both of their highs before his hips finally stilled.

Their chests heaved as they laid together, catching their breath. Y/N’s hands raked through Spencer’s hair, fighting to stay awake long enough so that they could clean up. When Spencer could finally move, he lifted up onto his forearms, pressing small, gentle kisses to her lips with murmured thank you’s before he climbed out of his bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. Once they were cleaned and stripped out of their cum-soaked clothes (to which Y/N and Spencer both giggled excessively about as they wriggled out of them), Spencer reached over to turn off his lamp.

Drained but happy, they collapsed into each other’s embrace, winding together in Spencer’s bed and surrendering to the pull of sleep. Just before sleep claimed him, Spencer pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, whispering, "I love you, my sweet girl."

A soft smile tugged at his lips when he heard her whisper back, "I love you too, my sweet boy."

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

You're Still The One ♥️

Coupled up Virgin Eddie and Virgin reader having their first times with each other, and - from both love and in defiance of the people who said they'd eventually get bored with each other - ending up married and/or with a couple of kids, and still as in love with each other and as horny for each other in their 40s/50s/60s/+ as they were in their late teens/early 20s?

Request by anon.

Also this request reminded me of the Shania Twain song-You're still the one so the lyrics are at the end of this fic 🥰

Mdni. 18+. A little bit of smut at the start, fluffy and sweet. Eddie and you being utter simps for each other.

♥️

Eddie's hand gently clasps yours, the two of you are nervous, entwined together and naked in more ways than one but there's so much love and trust, the eagerness to give each other everything.

He's gentle, so very gentle as he thrusts into you. Well as gentle as he can be and holds your hand whispering words of love as he moves in and out of you, only begins to move faster when you assure him you're okay.

The sharp pain you felt at the start dulls and in its place is an all-consuming need for Eddie, you're begging him to move faster and meet his lips in a clumsy but perfect kiss.

"You okay princess?" he strokes your cheek and you nod clenching around him, he lets out a guttural moan and his thrusts become harder, a little bit sloppy at first but he gets into the most perfect rhythm that has you seeing stars.

"You feel so good, so tight sweetheart, I can't believe you're mine"

The pleasure is like nothing you've ever felt before and you know Eddie feels that way too, moans issuing from the both of you as you both reach your climax.

You're giddy and on a high, so is Eddie and the two of you kiss, giggling and so in love with each other.

"That was fucking incredible princess" he sighs then he pauses his eyes flashing with anxiety, "Was it okay for you too?" You rest your forehead against his and smile, feeling like you're on cloud nine.

"It was perfect Eddie"

♥️

People warned you that the two of you wouldn't last.

"You'll never last, you'll grow bored and move on. You're young and being so head over heels in love doesn't last forever"

All of the naysayers were proven wrong, through utter love and defiance you and Eddie fell more in love with each other and that love lasted.

Eddie proposed one beautiful spring day, he had the ring for a long time while trying to think of the perfect time to propose. He had big ideas for doing it, maybe a campaign where at the end he would propose or he could take you to a fancy restaurant and propose to you there.

In the end, though the proposal came on that spring day while you and Eddie were enjoying some quiet time together after a busy week. It was windy and a little chilly, with blossom trees in full bloom (a sight you always loved) and Eddie tearful and struggling to get the words out.

You had pretty much screamed yes and nearly tackled him to the ground when you hugged him. He was grinning widely, all dimples and glee as he slipped the ring on your finger. It was perfect.

The two of you married in the autumn, with just Uncle Wayne, very close family and friends in attendance. It was outside, in the park you and Eddie loved so much, under pretty autumnal trees painted in golds, reds and rich browns.

It was one of the best days of your life and Eddie's too.

♥️

Adelaine was the first of you and Eddie's kids to arrive, from the minute you found out you were pregnant you and Eddie pored over every pregnancy book the two of you could find. He was extremely protective and completely enraptured with your growing bump, talking to the baby and telling the baby stories.

"I want to be the best dad sweetheart. Better than my old man ever was" he murmurs as you both look at lists of baby names. Gently you squeeze his hand and press soft kisses on his forehead.

"You're going to be the best daddy Eddie Munson, you're already the most amazing husband, I know our little one will be loved and so lucky to have you" he still looks anxious so you climb onto his lap and hold him close to you.

"Eddie you're nothing like your father. He was an asshole, cold and cruel. You're nothing like that, you're so full of love and gentleness, I love you so much and so will our little one. Any anxieties we have we get through together okay?" He nods his eyes brightening and a small smile on his lips that soon turns mischievous.

"Hey, how about the name Gandalf?" you snort and shake your head.

"Absolutely not" he pouts and wraps his arms around you, rests his hand on your bump and grins when he feels a kick.

"It would be so fucking metal babe, Gandalf Munson, we could be on to something. Popularise the name" You can't help but start giggling, Eddie pouts again but lets the name game drop for now.

Five months to that day Adelaine Maria Munson was born and Eddie was wrapped around her little finger which was adorable.

Samuel Munson followed and then Arwyn Munson, completing your little family.

Not to mention the many stray cats and dogs you adopted over the years as well. Ozzy, Sabbath, Midnight, Gandalf and a lot more.

Your house was always filled with love, laughter and a dozen pets, you could never resist a cute kitty or dog and Eddie could never say no to the combined forces of you and the girl's pouts.

"Sammy, they're doing the puppy eyes again dude, help your old man out" he would playfully joke to Samuel who was pretty much Eddie's mini me and idolised Eddie.

The first time Samuel and the girls begged Eddie to teach them about D&D, he almost cried. (He totally did) and rushed to make up a campaign for them.

Sundays were campaign day every week in your house after that and Friday nights were reserved for Eddie's epic bedtime story hour - Lord of the Rings was a hit in your household.

Not to mention he made up stories for the kids and dramatically acted out each one (with your assistance) you think Eddie enjoyed telling the stories even more than the kids.

❤️

You and Eddie being still so completely in love year after year made your kids whine that the two of you were "so gross" when you kissed or were particularly touchy-feely, Eddie always over dramatically kissed you even more just to make them laugh.

All these decades later and the two of you were more in love than ever and despite what everyone said the two of you did last.

Soulmates until the end.

♥️

Looks like we made it. Look how far we've come, my baby, We mighta took the long way.

We knew we'd get there someday

They said, "I bet they'll never make it" But just look at us holding on. We're still together, still going strong.

Mm (you're still the one) You're still the one I run to, The one that I belong to. You're still the one I want for life (You're still the one), You're still the one that I love.

The only one I dream of, You're still the one I kiss goodnight.

Shania Twain- You're still the one

[atarathegreat]

Scary Wife Privilages Tokyo Revengers

Featuring: Kokonoi Hajime, Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Rindou Haitani, Atsushi Sendo (Akkun)

Synopsis: They don't need you to stand up for them, but damn do they love when you get feisty.

It was crazy to you the extent of disrespect that Kokonoi would put up with while you were around. Everyone was aware of how ruthless the man could be, but they were also aware of how he hid it when you were around, and they took advantage of it. You lost count of how many people stopped in with random complaints about whatever Koko had done the previous week.

You lost count, sure, but not your temper.

Another poor soul walked in, anger evident on his face. Kokonoi wasn't any less pissed than you were, but he didn't like to explode when you happened to be with him. Of course, you knew this. You'd seen him strangle a man for information. You rolled your eyes thinking about it: how could he strangle a man in front of you with zero hesitation but he didn't want to get angry?

"Don't." You glared at the fancy suit and tie as he sat in the chair opposite the desk where Koko sat. "Don't say a word if it's negative." your voice was dark, heavy, almost dangerous, "Give your report and leave."

The man stared up at you as you leaned on Kokonoi's chair, "If there are problems then the boss needs to know."

Koko would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed with the way you leaned over his desk, grabbing the man by his tie and jerking him forward. He knew you had a temper but this...this was different. This made him wish he was on the receiving end of your death glare. "Say it then." Your words sent a chill up Koko's spine, "Tell me your complaint."

And for the first time, Koko seen one of his men speechless. You were scaring the hell out of him, even more so than any gun.

"No, ma'am, it's okay..." His underling whimpered. Koko had never heard any of his men whimper. But there it was, the fear in his eyes and a very pathetic whine that came out as he spoke.

Inui and Kenny had been busting their asses all day. They'd fixed bike after bike, crushed their fingers, bruised their legs, and Kenny slammed his head into the shelf holding parts, effectively bringing the whole thing down. Inui had laughed, stating, "You're too damn tall for this little shop!"

You smiled, and your smile could've made the devil himself kneel in terror, "Then give your report and go."

As they were replacing a whole gas tank for an old rusted up bike, (Kenny knew it would be more use to the customer as scrap, but the man was adamant about getting the poor heap of metal fixed) someone started hitting the bell on the front desk like it was an emergency. Kenny looked up, sharing a look of exhaustion with Inui before they both stood and slowly made their way out.

"Finally!" The woman yelled and slammed her hands on the counter, "You fixed my sons bike and charged him extra! Who do you think you are?"

Inui, who was busy pulling the books for the week, responded before Kenny could, "I'm Inui Seishu, he's Ken Ryuguji."

Inui's sarcasm made the woman angrier, and Kenny, for the very first time, hated that his friends kneejerk reaction to people was dry sarcasm. She started yelling louder, getting on Ken's nerves as he stood and took it. What was he going to do? Him and Inui charged fairly on their work, and this was a woman, Kenny couldn't exactly brawl with her.

"Would you just give me your sons name so I can find what we fixed and how much we charged?" Inui asked dryly, glancing up from the computer.

"No! You're supposed to know this stuff already! Unless you're scamming everyone that comes into this store!" The woman was becoming red in the face, "Scammers! Overpriced mechanics."

A sweet gust of wind carried over Kenny, he didn't have time to groan about someone else coming in before you had analyzed the situation. You'd heard the woman yelling from outside, a plan of action already made and ready to be executed. Inui smiled at you, "Good evening, Y/n."

"Evening, Inui." Both men paused at the calm air in your voice, "What's the problem here?"

You were here, meaning Kenny could relax and let you handle this problem on legs. He smiled and waved at his daughter who was holding your hand tightly, she waved back and giggled when your hand absently rested in her hair. God, how did his day get twenty times better with just a simple little sound?

The woman quickly tried to usher you out of the shop, stopping when you gently shoved her hand away, "You better get your little girl out of here, these scammers-"

"Enough." Your tone was cold, "These men are charging just right for their expertise and parts they replace. Do you understand how much money it costs to order half the parts for a motorcycle?''

Inui piped up quickly, "I don't think she does, Miss Ryuguji. Enlighten her."

Now Kenny was regretting how funny it was that his friend loved instigating you.

"In the last month this shop has spent over 6734610 yen in bike parts, three pieces of which went to your sons bike three days ago. Inui," You looked over at him, "search the name Kyoka. Broken clutch, broken break and an old spark plug."

Everyone waited silently as Inui looked it up. Your daughter pulled her hand free and ran to her dad, whispering to him as he picked her up, "Mommy is real scary right now." Kenny nodded, "Mommy doesn't take this type of shit, does she, baby girl?" The young child giggled, "She said she was gonna have to beat ass when we came in."

Kenny covered his daughters mouth, "Hey, we talked about the swearing, didn't we?"

He didn't have time to get an answer from your daughter because you started yelling back at the older lady, "I don't care if your son used his whole damn paycheck to get his bike fixed. He's in his thirties and doesn't need his mommy to come and bitch about price for him. Go on! Yell some more, because I promise you, I am much louder."

She tucked tail and hurried from the shop, leaving you alone with the two mechanics, "You charged twenty yen over..."

Rindou, while he loved his brother very much, didn't like the man coming over. Ran had a bad habit of flirting with you and Rindou had caught his brother setting his hands on your thighs too many times. He wasn't worried about you falling for the ridiculous antics, you'd always removed Ran's hands promptly but respectfully, he just hated that his brother was encroaching on his wife. Ran could have any woman he wanted, why did he have to go after you?

Inui grinned, "Agree with us in public, huh?"

"Rin?" You called to him from across your shared bedroom, "I can see the way your eyebrows are moving. What are you thinking?"

He snapped out of his thoughts quickly, looking at the beautiful outfit you were wearing, the way your arms stretched as you struggled with the clasp of your necklace. "Nothing." Rindou muttered, stepping up behind you to grab the ends of the silver chain.

"Have I ever told you that you suck at lying to me?" Your eyes pierced his through the mirror of your vanity. He couldn't hide the small smirk, "You have."

Rindou appreciated the way you called him out so openly, most people were too afraid of him to, but you didn't fear anyone, not even Mikey, and Mikey had held a gun to your throat. "I...Is it bad that I don't want Ran to come over? I love him, but-"

"I think it's a normal reaction when a man keeps trying to seduce your wife." You were nothing if not brutally honest, "I can't say I'm thrilled to have him over, either."

And yet, despite neither of you being excited to see him, you both greeted Ran with smiles and hugs. You, of course, had to peel the older man from your body, chuckling as you stated, "Boundaries, Ran."

Ran knew the extent he could go, and he exploited it. Placing his hands on your lower back, just above your ass where you couldn't protest your boundaries, or grabbing your hand and tugging you away from Rindou at the worst moments. It was getting on Rindou's nerves the more the night went on, to the point that Rin was hanging onto your back and refusing to let you do anything without him. He was acting like a koala, and as much as you loved him, it was getting aggravating having two grown men following you around.

"Enough!" You snapped, scaring the brothers, "Sit down!"

They did, Ran smiling as you finally lost your temper with them. Rindou glared at his brother, kicking him under the table, "This is your fault..."

"Quiet." You sounded like a mother scolding her children, "We're going to set some new rules, okay? Good."

Rindou knew that none of the rules were meant for him, but the tone in your voice was, at the very least, worrying to him. He knew you could strangle Ran, not with pure strength but because Ran would let you, and he didn't want you to get any more pissed.

It might as well have been a brothel. The second you walked in you were slammed with the smell of perfume and expensive fabrics. You'd learned to take headache relief before showing up, and it helped for the most part. The women, Hostess's as your husband called them, were lined up all day. Mostly they stood and watched men walk in and pick another woman to have their fun with before they walked out, half drunk and with their pants undone while the woman spent the next hour getting fixed up.

"And for the love of god, Ran, stop flirting with me! I don't like you!" You huffed, crossing your arms, "I have zero attraction to you, give up. Because if you don't, and I say this heavily, Ran, I will bring out every ounce of Haitani that I have picked up in the last three years and I will sink you to the bottom of the ocean."

The man who greeted you as you walked in was quick to remove a dark velvet rope, letting you go up the steps to where you knew Atsushi was sitting. But you were greeted with a sight that made you cackle.

Atsushi was sitting in his usual spot on one of the overpriced couches, legs spread wide and his arms resting over the back. He laid his head back to see you, smiling as you walked closer. You stared down at the woman who was crouched between his knees, "I can hear you begging from the doorway. It's pathetic."

Her poorly manicured nails slowly pulled off his knees, her wrongly glossed lips parting as she spoke, "Wh-who are you?"

You moved Atsuhsi's hand to show off his ring, "Take a guess. Tell me-Oh, no, don't get up!" You stopped her from moving from her position, "Tell me, how does it feel to beg for a married man?"

She was silent, staring up at you. You were like the boogey man for the girls who worked, as each one had tried to make themselves Atsushi's favorite.

"Good to see you, babe." Atsushi reached up and held your face, "Come just to see me?"

"Mhm, that was the initial goal." You walked around and sat beside him, grabbing the woman's hands and placing them on Atsushi's thighs, "Now, I want to see something."

The woman looked even more scared as you moved her around, "Did you think you would get away with this, sweetheart? I know these girls share stories of me, so there's no way you didn't hear about me."

"I swear, I didn't know the boss was married...I hadn't heard anything..." She was wide eyed, shaking a little. You laughed, "Come now, Atsu, are your girls hazing each other?"

He shrugged, "You know I don't pay that much attention."

You stood quickly, dragging the woman backwards and bending her painfully over the small table behind her. She gasped, eyes going wider if that was even possible. Atsushi had seen you do this before.

Both your faces were only inches apart, your wide smile would haunt her for days, "Does this hurt you? Can you take more?" She shook her head, muttering out a quiet "no" that made you giggle, "Then know that you can't handle what my husband could do to you. Even if you were just sucking cock, he's too brutal for you to stand. So, please, attempt this again. Do it, sweetheart, on the very, very slim chance he cheats on me, I'll know you won't be walking for a few days while I file divorce."

The doubled threat wasn't lost on Atsushi, who quickly moved to drag you into his lap, "Babe, c'mon, this place needs ladies who work." He sounded calm, but you could see the emotion hidden in his movements. Atsushi didn't want you to even mention divorce ever again, let alone after you threatened his employee.

The woman ran away fast when you waved her off, "Atsu, honey, my love. Don't let me find this again. I might just kill the next bitch."

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Since you've done a mini ask with winged Mc how do you think the M6 would react to a winged Mc that doesn't take proper care of their wings?

I.E Mc should be preening them weekly but only does it when they feel as uncomfortable as they look. Having ruffled, bent, and broken feathers

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a Winged MC

~ put a spin on this so I could apply it to the vesuvia weekly prompt, hope you enjoy it anon friend! ^.^ ~

-- to set the scene --

You like having wings. You really do, but sometimes you wouldn't mind forgetting about them for a bit. Just putting them away, where they can't catch on door frames or whip into people's faces or make you wince every time the sensitive feathers snag on something. Folding them out of sight and being able walk around without the stares is so nice, it becomes your new normal.

Until one day, the pain that's been slowly twisting knots into your shoulders and back becomes too much to bear, and you pull your wings out for the first time in months. They're crushed. Ruffled. Just looking at them is the stuff of nightmares.

Thankfully, your beloved seems to think they're the stuff of daydreams.

Julian

He'd known that something was wrong with your back - the only other person he knows with that many knots in their shoulders is himself - but he'd had no idea it was because of this

Why didn't you say anything? Did you think you'd be asking him for too much work?? Don't you know that taking care of you and seeing you depend on him makes him the happiest man alive???

Rummaging through his overstocked medicine cabinet, rambling between self deprecation for not noticing more and nerding out on winged human anatomy

Doesn't think to ask if it's okay to help until he's already seated behind you, reaching for your wings and realizes your closeness

Excellent at wing care once you tell him what he needs to know, his eyes and hands are trained for spotting physical issues and delicately treating them. He touches you like he's cherishing you

Can't stop daydreaming about how romantic it would be if you ever saved him like this, swooping through the air and snatching him from a burning pirate ship where he'd been held hostage ...

Asra

They'd been the one to teach you about how to manage your wings, and they'd been hinting at maybe taking care of them sooner, but they'd also done their best not to interfere

Approaching you quietly with a pained but sympathetic look on his face, bringing you the stuff you need and telling you however bad it is, you'll fix it together

Has the softest touch, running their warm hands over your shoulders and back as they work through your feathers, easing the pain both in your wings and through your muscles

The funny thing about his daydreaming tendencies (and goodness, does he love to spend time doing that -) is that when he's relaxed, he mumbles

Which is how you begin to hear all kinds of muttered whispers about how gloriously soft they are, how much they just want to hold you in their arms while you shroud them in your wings

All wrapped up in a tiny, feathery, world of your own, with nothing in your shared space but each other - MC, why are you blushing??

Nadia

Let it be known that this Countess is the queen of self-care and values it so highly that she sets aside a weekly budget for it

Which is why seeing your state is enough to horrify her

Your wings! Your glorious wings, they're in such poor shape, you must be in so much pain, her darling deserves so much better

She's dragging you to her private bath. She'll put you in a robe that lets your wings loose and set you up for an afternoon of recovery

Her perfectionist tendencies make for a thorough preening. She'll sit with you between her knees, carding through your wings feather by feather, straightening each one

And with the top quality products from her own personal stash, you slowly begin to glimmer in the sunlight through window

It captures your Countess's attention, making her linger over each feather and cover your wings in loving touches

She wants to see you glorious - she wants to cover you in fabrics and adornments so fine you look like you've stepped from a stained glass window, her own angel on earth

Muriel

He knows you have wings and he'd falsely assumed that the reason for never seeing them was because you didn't want to risk him crushing them with his big, clumsy hands and rough touch

(Note: his hands are not clumsy and his touch is actually quite delicate, he just needs help believing that he's not a danger to you)

Thankfully, the painful state of your wings when he sees them causes enough concern to override his anxiety

He'd be lying if he said you didn't remind him of a very tired, gorgeous bird who's been roughed up by a bad storm

Starts by silently bringing you everything you need, and then standing watchfully nearby until you invite him to help you

He's cared for wings before (though never ones this big, or attached to a human) and he doesn't need much help to get started. Feeling your feathers between his fingers is grounding

He keeps seeing visions of you at peace, the sunlight between the leaves dappling your wings as you walk through the trees, his own heart in the forest bringing beauty and wholeness into the world

Portia

Her first reaction (to someone who doesn't know her well) is anger

How could you do this to yourself? You have the most beautiful wings, they're such a big part of you, and you neglected them like this?? How dare you cause yourself this much pain -

All while she bustles around you, pulling out every product you could need and plenty of other comforting items, pulling up a stool behind you and rolling up her sleeves like it's her calling

She'll figure things out as she goes if she needs to, so don't even think about trying to tell her that you'll handle it yourself

With her background in Vesuvia's version of cosmetology, she understands quickly what you need to get done and already has the skill set to do so. Her hands are fast, thorough, and gentle

The longer she works with you, the more excited she gets. How often are you supposed to care for them? How high can you fly? How sensitive are they? Can she keep one of your feathers?

Soon she's telling you snippets from her favorite novels, about flying together through the sky, an angel and their lover

Lucio

He doesn't really notice how bad your wings are at first, because he's busy being briefly jealous. How come you get to have them and not him? He could totally be trusted with wings!

It's only as he pouts a little closer and gets a better look at the pained look on your face (and the frankly terrible state of your feathers) that he shifts from annoyance to concern

You're the best thing in his life, MC, why aren't you treating yourself like it? Why would you neglect such an awesome thing?

He gets your reasons, but he's also asking right away if he can help

(Because he loves you and he doesn't like seeing you in pain, but also because he really, really wants to touch them, please let him touch them they looks so cool and soft and ... safe?)

It's the safety that gets to him. When you nod and let him sit behind you, literally watching your back, showing immense trust and vulnerability by letting him hold your wings

He wants to know what it's like to hold onto that safety, the brief respite from violence, securely hidden behind your wings ...

[whateverisbeautiful]

Hi! So, something I’ve been thinking about since Richonne went canon is their PDA. From the RV onward, they (particularly Rick) have had no issues showing any level of affection in front of their family and friends and for some reason, I never expected that. All the years hoping for them to become canon and yet I didn’t imagine the gift giving and hand holding into battle and I have no idea why though! Maybe an idea that they are leaders and would keep that close to the vest?! I was even trying to see how Rick and Lori behaved with one another but their relationship was so different (high school sweethearts married for a decade plus, just returned “from the dead”, The Drama, etc).

I also wonder if they didn’t immediately get caught in 4k, would things be different. I mean, in front of/for the sake of Carl, sure. But after the way Rick was acting in TOWL, I’m not so sure 😂

Aw yeah. 🥰 They really are so soft with each other no matter the setting. I remember after 6.10 I was also super curious how outward they would be with their affection because Rick and Michonne seem like more private people but they also are both genuinely affectionate people. Like even how they'd hug and comfort others showed they're naturally comfortable with physical affection. That's why I always find it notable how little they touched each other before becoming a couple because it felt deliberate like they knew if they touched each other it would and did feel like something more. But I love that once they got together they ended up being super public about their love and affection. Their love is just too strong to downplay no matter who's around.

My favorite Richonne PDA moment in TWD is definitely the one from the season 8 premiere when they have that passionate kiss all while those long lines of cars filled with Alexandrians wait for them. That's also the only time I can think of where Carl was shown to see them like that.

I can see why the PDA might have not been expected beforehand because Rick's previous romantic pursuits simply did not bring out the same man that Michonne does. Plus there was so much secrecy surrounding his dynamic with Lori and Jessie, but with Michonne they really hold nothing back from each other which allows them to more freely and authentically love each other out loud.

Thinking back to Rick and Michonne's first kisses on that couch, I remember thinking it feels like I've never seen Rick kiss anyone before this because the way he was with her felt different. Like it was a higher level of passion and also trust that he's finally with a woman who loves him for him. Rick was always a lover boy but with Michonne he comes alive in this elevated way and she definitely awoke his truest romantic self. And I also love what Rick brings out of Michonne. She's often felt the need to always have it together and take on things for the good of the group, but with Rick she's able to let go and be fully immersed in enjoying their romantic moments.

That's really interesting to think about how things would go if they weren't caught in 4k the morning after they got together. I've been curious about how that morning would have played out without Jesus' interruption too. Rick definitely would still be ready to make things official between them and the kids I think. Like he'd still want to have a conversation with Carl that same day to express that what he and Michonne have is the real deal and here to stay. And I think Michonne (in maybe a less outwardly eager way than Slick Rick lol) would be on the same page that they're together from here on out now.

I honestly think their PDA probably stays the same too, even if their friends hadn't found out on the stairwell. Like you said, TOWL showed that Rick and Michonne are pretty much an any-time/any-place couple when it comes to loving on each other and so I think it still would have felt like such a natural next step to them to be publicly affectionate shortly after getting together. And it really is one of the things that most warms my heart about Richonne - they're both the toughest people in the apocalypse and the absolute tenderest with each other. 😊

[callmelyc]

Back thinking about Oracle Lance but this time it's him foreseeing Keiths betrayal to him and instead of trying to stop it he aids him in secret bc lance trust Keith more than anyone else and if his betrayal is lurking it must be for a reason (it is)

Lance is an oracle for the empire, his job is simple and to the point: have visions and make sure they're as detailed as possible.

He is to be alone, to be nothing but a tool in hopes he can turn the future to their favor. That all changes when Keith comes into the picture.

Keith is Lances new guard, his servicer if you will. His job is to keep eyes on lance 24/7, make sure he shares every vision he has, every inkling of divine intervention and wisdom.

But to Lance, Keith is so much more. He's his confident, his first real friend here and though Keith has never seen his face due to the veil magicked onto his face, Lance is so sure he feels Keith looking right into his eyes everytime they talk. Usually people will look past him, a select few will even look down in respect. But Keith? Keith has never feared meeting lances eyes even though they're hidden away.

It doesn't take long for Lance to fall in love with him. The realization hits like a tidal wave and with it his visions become clearer than a sunny day. They grow in power, in detail and lance has never felt so much pure quintessence race through his veins.

He doesn't tell the empire his visions have changed in strength least they take Keith away. Because if they discovered he did the one thing he was never to do, they'd have hell to bring down upon him.

Lance was never to be in love. He was never to hold lust in his heart. Yet here he was lusting after a man sent to guard him and keep him in check.

The day he accepts his love, Lance is sitting with Keith in his private gardens. The vision that hits him is harsher than anything he'd had so far.

In it he foresees something that leaves him gasping for breath: Keith's betrayal.

There's fire, the smell of smoke and screams for an intruder.

/"Capture him!"

"The emperor is dead!"

"Kill him"/

Blood on a blade, blood on pale hands, blood seeping through the slice on lances back....and purple eyes looking at him with a fierce determination

/"I'm sorry"

"No ....you aren't"/

"Lance?" Keith voice sounds so far away and concerned but lance can't break free from the cold taking over his veins.

/"You're right ....I'm not."/

"lance! Lance what's wrong-"

Lance chokes as he snaps free from it all, reality bringing him back to earth in a snap. He knows he's shaking, he knows Keith is concerned but all lance can think about is this:

If Keith is here for a reason, if Keith is to take this empire down then all Lance can do is give his aid. Because above all else he trusts Keith more than anyone, including the empire.

"I'm ok- just a vision"

Keith's hands grip his arms, it's steadying in its own way though it has no right to be after lance learned Keith would kill him.

"what did you see?"

If lance didnt know any better, he'd almost think Keith was genuinely concerned. "I saw the emperor, leading all to glory."

Lance watched Keiths face force itself into neutrality hoping the lie was enough

"Is that so?"

"Yes..." He takes Keith's hand squeezing it "in three full moons, everything will change."

He hopes it's hint enough, that Keith will understand that's the time he has left.

and their evening ends with Lance aware that his remaining moments with this man will be all he has left to love him.

+ lore notes 🎉 bc I've really thought about this ver alot (I have a second ver in my head somewhere this one's winning out)

-It's fantasy vld au

-Keith is a blade/part of the resistance that goes undercover to get Intel and ends up with the job of taking down the empire from the inside (he is not the only one planted there)

-lance doesn't have a family because the empire scopes out people born with the Oracle talents and scoops them away to raise them brainwashed from the start.

-lance was trained by the empire druids and is one of the only oracles not regularly punished by them bc he stays in his lane

-lance learned very early on to always say exactly what they want to hear so he always words his visions in just the right amount of vague details that it satisfies them and also isn't a full lie

-when he tells Keith the emperor will lead all to glory he purposefully leaves out who will be the one to do so bc he knows Keith will be the one the ppl look up to once all is said and done even if he refuses to be an emperor

-shiro having been a prisoner of the druids long ago, does not trust Lance bc he sees the oracles as extensions of the druids

-oracles are just quintessence sensitive beings that can't control it. Druids have tried and failed to turn them into proper alchemist and those they try have died.

-lance is heavily watched bc of this also, he's the remaining one with enough strength to be of interest. Had Keith and the rebellion not come he'd have been the next experiment attempt

[lenciquest]

Imagine your romantic f/o confessing their love for you... ✿˖༚ ⁠.̮

Thinking about f/o's that are just too shy!!! they have been swooning over you for the longest time, admiring you with gleefulness every time you weren't looking. They would lay in their bed after coming home, barely getting their outerwear off, blushing, giggling and kicking their feet, daydreaming about different romantic scenarios with you, sweating at the thought of holding your hand like they're a victorian man seeing a woman's ankles.. Their heart aches with longing after not seeing you for too long (2 hours), but they just can't bring themselves to tell you about it! At some point it gets too overwhelming, making them coyly mutter a confession under their breath to you when you're doing something mundane, like walking home together. Or perhaps they'd slip a tiny note onto your desk, tiny hearts and doodles all over it, the words written by their trembling hand in colors describe their blossoming feelings for you... <3

Or if your f/o is a stoic one!! they have lived their whole life without really caring about the more intimate kind of relationships with people, until you've come crashing in into their little world, turning every one of their beliefs upside down. Let's just say that falling head over heels for you was quite an experience for them! They'd deny their feelings to the last, even to themselves, starting to catch their thoughts drifting to you more and more... You're very special to them, it may even be the very first time they've become so attached to someone! Please handle their heart with care!!! Despite their feigned indifference towards you, they've never felt any more vulnerable in their lives. They'll mention them "loving you" as for why they've got a bit too protective maybe, not wanting to admit that they love you as anything but a friend, secretly praying that you take a hint...

Or if your f/o is... well, let's just say, not the best at hiding it, which can actually combine with other types above!.. Love is a terrible force! And it makes them do just terrible crimes!! They always start to stutter when they want to tell you something interesting and cool so badly. They never manage to avert their gaze in time before you notice that they are staring at you when you are busy with something of your own, and they definitely do not know how to be subtle in their courtship. They want to bring you gifts every day! small trinkets that you will like (they've spent an hour roaming the store to pick the most perfect one), agreeing to complete any boring task in your stead, running to get a snack for you the second you mention that you're hungry. The "I love you" rolls so easily off their tongue and feels so natural they don't even notice how it happens, only realizing what they've said when you start giggling like a fool.

a/n: I have forgotten about this blog for 1728928 years... whoopsie I guess uhm happy holidays that have already passed

tags!!! ʘ⁠ʘ and a little bit of something (me whining)

[hiemaldesirae]

AU where *Vox* is the one who disappears for 7 years, and ALL of Hell suffers for it. The remaining 2 Vees end up with their souls contracted to Alastor, Carmilla and Zestial have to become allies and join forces-most overlords do by the time Vox comes back there ARE no solo Overlords left, except technically Rosie and Alastor but even they are 'allies' in the loosest sense. Everyone else is paired up and it all because of the madness of Radio Demon at the disappearance of his muse. He's shacked up inside of The Vees Tower, taking over Vox's floor as his own, adding a radio tower to the side of it.

And then, 7 years after his disappearance, Vox reappears and joins Charlie Morningstar at her hotel for rehabilitation of sinners of all things, with Angel Dust as her first client, and--

The very foundations of Hell shake.

OHHH this one is fun. yesyesyes im so onboard with this one!!! i think about swap aus very fondly no matter how many times i see premises where vox and al get their storylines swapped ill ALWAYS eat it up.

okay so i do have some questions i want to get over with first. did al and vox breakup before the whole. (waves hands) seven year leave thing. like did they fight before he left because that brings a wholly different dynamic to the table rather than 'oh vox just disappeared one day', which in fairness i can see driving alastor crazy in a much different way, but also if they'd fought beforehand and alastor had expected to see vox back with the vees the day after or something, only to find him missing with no one aware of where he was... hoo boy. and also- does alastor take over the entertainment district here? like, he's got val and velvette as contracted souls, so do they stop running the district because they can no longer hold the respect of those they were once under and just do menial tasks under al's servitude, or is there a completely different dynamic here that ive passed over?

anyway with that over with... (bashes my head into the wall) YES I NEED THIS. ohmuy god. the aus where vox is sponsoring the hazbin hotel because of a deal he made with lucifer or something have been haunting my head for weeks upon end and i cant help but imagine something similar here- i can just imagine how pissed alastor would be to learn of the fact that vox was back and didnt even think to go and SHOW HIMSELF to him first??? vox was HIS. his muse, his rival, his stupid, stupid picture box- and he went off to make a deal with that bright-faced, stupid little princess of hell? instead of going back to alastor? no, no, no, that cant do, absolutely not, VALENTINO, you have to get your oblivious little employee under control before i rip out both your throats-- anyway. i imagine al probably hates intearcting with either of the vees but he does to make sure theyre not dead or trying to kill him (its all for voxs sake. he wouldn't be glad to return and find his friends slaughtered, after all.)

sorry i dont really have any other thoughts to addonto this (theres a reason why i havent written/drawn a swap au with them and its because ive no idea how the story would change given all the different nuances that we dont yet know... so. yeah) except maybe that alastor would probably be pissed as hell at the attention vox gets when he returns- because he was a celebrity figure before he was gone, too, and his return is like the equivalent to a comeback on princess diana's revenge dress level. instead of being pissed that other sinners are paying attention to vox in a 'they should be looking at me' kind of way though he's more pissed in a 'no one should look at him except for me' kind of way which really weirds charlie vaggie and angel out who are kinda just going like... 'are you sure about that guy man' and vox just shrugs like 'well last time i was face to face with him we had a really bitter breakup fight so idek if hes sure about me tbh'

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Bruinen's Eastern Shore - Part 1: Flight

This is set just prior to the events of the first Hobbit movie, so take that how you will. I'll probably have four parts for this fic. If anyone wants to be tagged for any future fics or updates, let me know and I'll start a taglist. Anyway, this is my first LotR related fanfic, so enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Elrond x Reader

[A/N: I haven't seen RoP, and I don't plan to, so this is Hugo Weaving's Elrond. All of my knowledge regarding this universe comes from the Jackson movies and the books.]

Warnings: Slow burn, Elf x Human romance, age gap (obviously, I mean, he's over 6000 years old), mentions of combat, death, blood, undefined magic (I'm winging it rn so uh...don't think about it too hard).

~*~

"Thank you again for taking the time to meet with me, Lord Elrond," the Man said as the pair walked through Elvish halls. The stone was older than the Human by several thousands of years, yet the Elf lord was there when they were first carved into bricks for construction. "I know your schedule is full to bursting–"

"Nonsense. I am always pleased beyond measure to speak with you, mellon-nin," the Elf interjected as they walked into his study. "Tell me, how are your people holding up with this new threat?"

That was precisely why the Man had come to Rivendell, in the first place. Even as nomads, Orc attacks used to be few and far between for his people, happening perhaps once or twice a year, but in the last six months alone, they'd repelled four assaults. Their losses were becoming concerning. The Man, their leader, decided that the time had come to seek advice and possibly assistance from one much wiser than he.

"They are shaken...frightened by even the smallest of things. The snap of a twig, a particularly loud howl from the wind..." The Elven host offered his guest a seat near his bookshelves - a quiet nook which he reserved for serious conversations or quiet contemplating - and took in his haggard expression. That Elrond understood more than anything. Remaining strong when you were just as afraid as the people whom you were trying to protect was a difficult task. Such endeavors could wear heavily on even the most seasoned and confident of commanders. "They are doing their best to remain strong, but I must confess, I-I am becoming less certain every day about the wisdom of my insistence that we keep moving. Perhaps we should find one good, defensive position and dig in..."

Elrond could see his dilemma.

"But if you took such an action, you would feel as though you were cowering, is that not so?" He offered no judgment and no solutions. Not yet. He wanted to guide his friend along the path to finding his own answer, not force his hand in one direction or the other. That was not his place. That was not his purpose.

The sigh that escaped the Man's lips was ragged, and his shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of all Middle Earth was upon him.

"I know 'tis prideful, but our people have never shied away from a fight. To dig ourselves into a trench...that would feel too much like desperation. And, each time the Orcs returned, they would know exactly where to find us and how many more it would take to breach our defenses," he muttered running a hand through his hair. Once vibrant and full of color, the strands were flecked with gray. The Elf lord was reminded quite starkly of how much of a toll time took upon the mortals. A pang of sorrow twisted through his heart. After over six thousand years of life, he was well aware that death was a natural part of life for those species who were irrevocably tied to mortality, but his heart ached no less for his friend's eventual fate. "If we keep moving, though, they still manage to find us. Each attack grows in strength. Every time, more and more of my people fall upon enemy blades."

Elrond nodded his head with sympathy and understanding.

"Have your people offered any suggestions about what you might do?"

The Man stood abruptly and began pacing.

"Mekor put forth the idea of joining with a stationary settlement - just until the hoards are cleared, you understand," he said, but he shook his head. "I did not tell him, but the last time we were near several of the major cities, I...scouted ahead. I spoke with their leaders, explained our situation."

"And?"

"And, they all said the same thing: 'I cannot in good conscience allow you to draw such large numbers of orcs to our gates.' The difference is that they at least have gates behind which they can defend themselves," the Man paused near the window overlooking the valley. "And you know why I cannot go to the Rangers."

The Lord of Imladris drew in a deep breath and stood, making his way to his friend's side and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Is there any help that I could offer which you would accept, mellon?" His question was quiet and probing, yet free of judgment. Elrond knew well the pride of Men and their desire to act as independently as possible. That would not, however, stop him from helping where he could. He would even go so far as to bring these mortals into Rivendell to stay. It was, after all, a refuge for just such an occasion.

After a long moment of consideration, the Man cleared his throat and lifted his chin as if to preserve his dignity.

"Our swords are old. Chipped and cracking. Several shattered during the last skirmish. And our supply of arrows and bow strings is...woeful. The few who were skilled at replenishing both were killed two months ago."

"I'll have Lindir draw up a list of supplies. No matter how small your need is, please tell him everything. We are more than happy to give you whatever help you require," Elrond said, and he could have sworn that the Human's eyes were filling with unshed tears of gratitude. Neither Man nor Ellon mentioned it. Trying to restore his friend's smile, at least to a small degree, the Elf lord changed the subject. "Tell me, how is your daughter faring through all of this?"

The grin that stretched the Man's lips was warm; the love he held for his only child shone brightly in his eyes, restoring some semblance of youth to his weathered features.

"She believes that this is all one big adventure. Though she be only a few years old, she is curious...asking more questions than I rightly know how to answer," he stated proudly. "She has her mother's intellect, and I am glad of it. I am no teacher, but I've managed to convey to her the meaning of a few words of your language."

Surprise was surely evident upon Elrond's face at his friend's declaration.

"Mellon-nin, I am honored."

"She'll need to be able to communicate with your people once she discovers what she is." The Human reached into his pocket and pulled out a small book, flipping it open and retrieving a loose piece of paper. "My late wife, as you know, was the artist of the family, however..."

He trailed off as he offered the page to his host. Elrond took it carefully, looking at the sketch of a little girl.

"Your daughter?" He asked almost reverently as he took in her joyful expression. Even in this simple drawing he could see the intelligence behind her eyes. After a few moments' keen observation, he tried to hand the drawing back to the Man who'd created it but was gently refused.

"Keep it. I brought you that, my dear friend, because if something happens to me...I want you to be familiar with her likeness. It will likely be vastly outdated by the time you meet her, but 'tis better than nothing." The somber tone of voice made Lord Elrond pause. "She is more important to me than all of Middle Earth, and if...if the Orcs take me from her, I must know that someone in this world knows to look out for her..."

Setting the sketch on his desk, the Elf placed his hands on his friend's shoulders.

"Should either of you ever need help, I will be there. She will have every protection that I can possibly afford her," he promised.

"There is...something else," the Man murmured looking into his friend's eyes. "It could be no more than an old man's imagination, but things have happened around her. Small things. Rain repelled from her as if it cannot touch her. Ripples in a pond by which she sits, though no breeze caressed the water's surface."

Elrond's posture straightened further at this new information. He knew that the blood of Númenor was thin in most, but if this was true, his friend's daughter might have a rare gift.

"Have no fear, mellon-nin. Your daughter will find her path, and if I can, I will gladly help her."

By the time of the Man's departure from Rivendell, Elrond had prepared a gift. With the weapons and extra supplies that he presented, the Lord of Imladris had one other item to offer. Opening a small, wooden box carved with Sindarin script, he revealed a silver necklace. The craftsmanship of his people was evident in the intricate curls and swirls of the metal. In the center was a forest green gem that, to the Man, seemed to glow with its own light.

"This is for your daughter. The pendant is a symbol of our protection - proof that she has favor with us. All she ever need do is show this to any Elf, and they will do whatever is necessary to assist her. If none of my people are near, she need only touch it and ask for help," Lord Elrond promised, and as if the gem could hear him, it pulsed with a warm, affectionate glow. The girl's father looked from the necklace to his friend, and this time a tear slid down his cheek as he offered his profuse gratitude. "I would be remiss to do anything less, mellon-nin."

After tucking the box safely away in his saddlebag, the Man embraced his friend. Neither knew that it would be for the last time.

--

"If you find yourself in danger, seek the elves of Rivendell."

My father repeated that to me more times than I could count as soon as I was old enough to comprehend the meaning behind his words. Our people were nomadic, constantly moving from place to place, setting up camp wherever we found ourselves. Every time we stopped, he made sure that I knew two things:

The first was the location of the nearest source of water.

The second was the way to Rivendell from our temporary encampment.

Long before I was brought into this world, my father ensured that we were on friendly terms with the steward of the valley. Each time we were even remotely close to Imladris, he made a point of speaking with the Elven lord.

Once, when I asked what Lord Elrond looked like, he brought out a small box of my mother's sketches. Rifling through them, he made a triumphant sound when he found the one he sought. Setting the box carefully aside on his bedroll, he had me sit beside him and turned the page toward me.

"The last time your mother and I visited, she made a point of drawing him. You must remember his face, my little love. One day you might need to request his help as I have done."

Much of the time, our wandering took us far from that sacred valley and the river that flowed before it. The final time that my father was able to visit, he brought back a gift. A necklace.

But it wasn't just a necklace. There was something about it that sent a wave of calm assurance through me. A sense of safety permeated my being every time I touched it. The cool metal seemed impervious to the elements, never rusting or tarnishing, as only the skill of the elves could accomplish. More than once over the years, I found myself looking at the pendant, wondering about the being who'd given me something so obviously unique on a whim.

Two decades and a handful of years later, I found myself sprinting through the trees with half of our remaining people. We were twelve desperate souls, flying through the underbrush with a hoard of Orcs behind us. Every few steps, I aimed an arrow behind me and prayed that it hit its mark upon my release.

"Come on! We're almost to the river!" I shouted, and my father's second in command, Mekor, let out an answering shout as we approached the ford. The snarls of Orcs and their Wargs nipped at our heels, urging us to move faster.

As much as it hurt, I was forced to ignore a terrified shout as the pack swallowed up one of our tired stragglers. This was a last ditch effort. If we stopped, we'd die.

Eleven.

Struggling for breath, I urged my people toward the sound of the Bruinen River and its eastern shore. Arrows from our pursuers flew through the trees, embedding themselves deeply within trunks and flesh alike. A few screams began and were silenced abruptly.

How many was that? Two? Four? No, we could count our dead once we were safe. Any who fell behind at this point were beyond our ability to save. Fifty Orcs against less than a dozen Humans? We would be lucky if any of our number survived the crossing.

Aiming another arrow backward, I allowed myself a moment's relief at the injured shriek of a Warg and the sickening crunch of its rider's bones as both crashed to the ground. Adrenaline rushed through me as the treeline appeared before us. The grass beneath our feet became a mix of pebbles and sand, rocks and mud.

"Quickly! Cross the river! Make for the eastern shore!" I shouted, and a few of the remaining people in our group echoed the sentiment. Two were cut down before they cleared the trees, their gurgling cries sending a bolt of helplessness through me even as I nocked and released arrows to buy time and space for my people. A few splashes reached my ears, and I prayed they'd make for the trees.

A yell of my name sounded from behind me.

"Come on! Get clear!" Mekor sounded much closer than I would've preferred. I needed him to live.

There were too many of them for me to hold off alone, so I turned and ran, beginning to cross the ford as quickly as I could. The pendant beneath my shirt thrummed against my skin, and an arrow whizzed by my ear so close that I could feel the displaced air from its fletching. That was too close for comfort. Much too close.

For the most part, the Orcs were afraid to cross into this territory. The Elves defended their land fiercely against such filth, after all, and very few of the cretins were stupid enough to seal their fate so definitively. However, a few who were brave enough - or perhaps foolish enough - to risk death started into the water after me. Not yet having reached the shore, I turned, grasping for arrows, but my quiver was empty. With a quiet oath, I turned and ran toward the trees. My boots were drenched, my lungs ached, and I blinked away sorrowful tears at having lost so many souls so quickly.

With a forest as ancient as this, the trees were rumored to whisper to each other and to those who remembered how to listen. The Elves listened.

Lord Elrond listened.

"Get to the trees!" I shouted, then I dug my hand into my shirt and grabbed the pendant. "Help us! Please! We're dying!"

The few brave Orcs who made it across and had not been shot down instantly apparently lent courage to their fellows. The Warg riders began to cross the racing waters, and I felt a horrible sense of dread settle into the pit of my stomach. The sight of boots disappearing into the trees was all well and good, but the Orcs would follow.

Someone had to make sure that they were distracted.

I had but one shot.

--

About an hour before he and his soldiers engaged the Orc hoard, Lord Elrond of Imladris had a vision. His gift of foresight showed a group of terrified Humans racing across the Bruinen with countless Orcs behind them. He was about to send out his guard, but the face of the young woman fighting so hard to protect the others made him pause.

He knew her face. She was older now - quite obviously an adult - but he still recognized the intelligence in her eyes and the determined set to her jaw.

More than that, the sparkle of the pendant that had escaped the collar of her shirt made him freeze. Icy dread washed over him as the vision changed to show her fleeing toward the trees. Her voice floated into his ears as easily as if she'd been standing right beside him.

"Help us! Please! We're dying!"

Elrond did not hesitate.

"Lindir!" He shouted as he began donning his armor. The younger Elf rushed into his lord's study. "Lindir, have my horse saddled. And ready a group of fighters. Hurry! Orcs are coming!"

When Elrond and his warriors caught sight of the group, the Orcs and Warg riders had just begun crossing the river. The glimpse he'd caught an hour before of her hair swishing over her shoulder as she fought repeated itself before his eyes, including her plea for help which now sounded as it should - like a whisper echoing through his very being, drawing him toward her. As he watched, she doubled back on her path, rushing back into the water.

She was trying to draw the focus of the Orcs away from her people - there weren't many Humans left. He urged his horse faster, his heart a racing drumbeat in his chest accompanying the galloping of his mount. He would not allow his friend's daughter to die within his borders while these lands were his to protect!

He'd just drawn his sword when the river's water began to whirl around her. Creating a wall between the Orcs and the remaining Humans, the water roared and flared with a shout from the woman. She lifted her arms, shoved them forward as if pushing a heavy weight, and the wall of water crashed over the majority of her enemies, washing them away as easily as pebbles in a current.

Magic. She'd performed magic! Her father had been right all those years ago.

But it was not the time to ponder her abilities. The time had come for him to fulfill his promise.

She'd bought just enough time for Elrond and his riders to reach the Orcs and cut down those who remained. Blades hissing and flashing, the Elves felled them easily.

By the time he turned back to the river, he saw her collapse onto the sandy bank, panting for air. He recognized the sight instantly: she'd overextended herself. Dismounting with a swish of his cloak, Elrond ran to her side, dropping to his knees and sheathing his blade before turning her gently onto her back.

Her glassy, exhausted gaze met his, and recognition flashed through her clever eyes.

"Elrond o Imladris, boe ammen veriad lîn." The words fell easily from her tongue despite how close she was to unconsciousness. She'd practiced them before.

"You have it, my lady," Elrond murmured, and almost as soon as the words passed his lips, her eyelids closed and she went limp in his grasp. He lifted her into his arms, cradled her close to his chest for one selfish moment, and with a few orders to his men to round up any survivors, the Elves brought their charges into the Hidden Valley.

~*~

Elvish Translations:

mellon-nin = my friend

Elrond o Imladris, boe ammen veriad lîn. = Elrond of Imladris, we need your protection.

[hannahhook7744]

My Wife Is Dead (And So Is A Part of Me);

Summary: We see a glimpse of Prince Christopher Charming’s reaction to his wife's death. But we don't see what he's thinking.

Trigger Warnings: Grief, denial, spousal/parent deaf, mention of ill children, etc.

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

There were many moments that Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir Carl Alexander François Reginald Lancelot Herman Gregory James Charming (or Kit, as he much preferred these days) could pinpoint as the worst moment of his life. 

The day his son came home flinching at even the mere mention of his ex-girlfriend after the Queen of Mean incident.

The day he found out what kind of things his son got up to in highschool.

The day his mother died. 

The day his father died. 

The day he and Ella found out they both had fertility issues. 

The day they found out their little miracle, Chloe, had a heart condition.

But none of them were compared to what the royal was currently feeling as he stared at his wife’s shattered heels. 

The very heels that had led him to her. 

The heels that his Ella never let out of her sight—which could only mean one thing. One very horrible thing. 

He couldn't hold back the…fear? Anger? Horror? Grief? Repulsion? “What have you done?” 

Bridget—no, not Bridget. 

(This vile woman wasn't sweet, fun loving Bridget who wouldn't hurt a fly. This woman was a monster and an imposter in her skin, wearing her face and claiming her name. 

A name she didn't deserve.

Bridget was dead and Uliana's crew had killed her. Creating a monster out of the soulless husk that remained—creating The Queen of Hearts). 

The Queen of Hearts just smiled smugly down at him. Completely unrecognizable to anyone who had previously known her. “Not so funny now, am I?”

Charming swallowed, refusing to take his eyes off of the shattered shoes that his wife had loved so much. Knowing already what had happened to Ella but not wanting to believe it. 

Not wanting to believe that his wife's former best friend had actually killed her over a stupid, awful prank that had happened years ago that neither he or she had any involvement in. 

“No. What… no…”

Ella couldn't be dead. 

Not by Bridg—the Queen of Hearts’ hand.  

Not so soon. 

Not when he still needed her. 

Not when Chloe and Chad were still so young and still needed her. 

The Queen just cackled at him. As if she had told the funniest joke in the world. As if she hadn't just murdered one of only people who'd stood by her in highschool when she'd had no friends and didn't get along with her family.

“No! No!”

Chloe's heart wouldn't be able to take this.

Chad wouldn't be able to take this in general. 

Ella couldn't be gone. 

She couldn't.

She was too young to be gone already. She hasn't done all of the things she had wanted to do to change the world for the better. 

It wasn't fair. 

Ella didn't deserve to go out like this. 

The dark haired man didn't even try to bite back his tears as he tried to collect the broken pieces of the love of his life’s shoes—the shoes his daughter and son had loved to hear stories about. The shoes she wore almost daily. The shoes she'd been wearing when they'd met Chad before he'd become their son. 

All while the wicked Queen of Hearts continued to cackle. Uncaring that she had shattered his heart along with Ella—her best friend–’s shoes. 

Uncaring that she'd made him feel more helpless than he'd ever felt in his whole life.

She truly wasn't Bridget anymore.

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

As the Queen's guards dragged him away to be with the rest of the hostages, Christopher could only hope that the Queen of Hearts would be stopped before either of his children could befall the same fate as their mother.

(The same fate he and everyone else in school would likely face). 

[mahoromouse]

Confession~Love and Youth at Ichizu High School~

A special short story included with the 4th Bucchigiri?! DVD/Blu-ray

Description from the official site:

Worried about how to "confess his love," Arajin asks his best friend Matakara for advice on how to convey his feelings to Mahoro, but...?!

Story by Kishimoto Taku/Supervision by Utsumi Hiroko

(NOTE: I'm an amateur when it comes to translation so there's unfortunately going to be mistakes here and there. I do plan on uploading clean scans of the original material sometime in the future for those who are more capable. I just wanted to share my own take on this little story.)

"Hmm~~, mmmmm~...ahh~...What on earth should I do...how can I convey my passionate feelings to Mahoro-chan!"

One young man is groaning loudly while holding his head in agony. This is Tomoshibi Arajin.

"Hey, Matakara! How do you confess to someone!?"

"Eh? Confessing? Hmmm...just be serious and tell them how you really feel, isn't that enough?"

The one who gives such an honest answer is Asamine Matakara. He has known Arajin since childhood, when they'd been best friends who aimed to become Honki people together.

"Just expressing my feelings seriously huh...Hmmm...I'm the type of guy who believes actions speak louder than words..."

Arajin mutters something like that before he says,

"Matakara, show me how you'd do it."

"Ehh!? Me!? But confessing..."

"Just try it, try it! Okay!"

"Um...wait a minute...a confession huh..."

Matakara is flustered for a moment, but finally, as if he's made up his mind, he lets out a sigh, clears his throat, and says,

"P-Please, let me make miso soup for you every day!"

"Why are you the one making it!?"

"I see...it's more fun to make it together than by yourself! As expected of you, Ara-chan!"

"That's not the point! In fact, what you're saying is basically a proposal!"

Arajin holds his head in his hands, realizing that he has consulted the wrong person.

"Yo~"

"What are you doing?"

"Ah, Zabu and Komao."

The people who call out are Zabu Kakeru and Sakigake Komao, the usual lineup.

"Hello! What are you guys talking about?"

Komao doesn't care what the topic is and just gets into it.

"Ara-chan was wondering how to confess."

"If you're so keen to confess, then just tell the other person, right Zabu?"

When asked about it, Zabu grins.

"Yeah you should, if you really are that popular."

"But...I don't like Ara-chan being too popular."

Seeing Matakara's indecisive attitude makes Arajin confused.

"Hey what's all that about!?!? There's no such thing as being too popular!"

"No, it's not like that..."

"Matakara is Minato Kai's second best after all! Of course he's super popular."

Komao speaks without any ill intent, not knowing what the person in question is actually thinking.

"Stop it..."

"Grrr...I guess this guy's popular after all!"

Arajin grits his teeth as Zabu presses on.

"Weren't they waiting in line for you the other day?"

"Wh-What did you say!? Girls were waiting for him?"

"Grrrrr!"

Arajin growls with rage.

"It was just because that place was small! It's really not that great. They're girls, so I can't hurt them...but I can't just ignore someone who's coming at me with all their might..."

"Pyuu~" Zabu and Komao whistle as they turn away, ignoring Arajin.

"What is it? Tell me quickly! Tell me!!"

Zabu puts his hand on Arajin's shoulder in an attempt to calm him and continues with a serious look on his face.

"Listen here, Ichizu High has a time-honored tradition of matchmaking."

"Matchmaking!? Isn't matchmaking when a man and a woman who want to get married are introduced to each other at some arranged dinner??"

"In our case, the person who falls in love first comes forward and says 'Let's make a match!' and the other person accepts by saying 'Sure, I'd be happy to make a match!' and that's how it begins. If you fight seriously and defeat your crush, the two of you can have a special relationship."

"Huh!? Isn't that more like a wrestling match!? What does wrestling have to do with matchmaking?"

"That's just how it is, a match is a match, that's all there is to it!"

Komao says, showing off his skills as he grabs Zabu in a headlock.

"By the way, guys can ask out other guys."

"That's right, I'm in love with a man~!"

Arajin watches with dead eyes as Zabu is taken down by Komao's suplex.

"Ara-chan, if you'd like, wanna practice together? I mean, I could try being your matchmaking partner? By the way, my specialty is hoisting people up, so it's a technique that won't hurt girls..."

Arajin interrupts Matakara who was making a misguided proposal and glares at him.

"No way! The confession I want to make doesn't involve hoisting, or headlocks, or finishing moves! Isn't there a more normal way to confess your love?"

"That is normal..."

"Zabu, how would you confess?"

"Wh-What do you mean...just the normal way. I'd ask the other person to go out with me, like normal."

Zabu stammers nervously after Matakara suddenly turns the conversation toward him.

"Is it okay to just do that without thinking too deeply about it? What do you think Ara-chan?"

"Hmmm...but you know 'going out' just doesn't feel right..."

"What do you mean?"

Arajin tilts his head, searching for the right words as Komao looks at him confused.

"Going out, 'dating' that is, it's more like a contract, right? 'I won't date other people so you shouldn't either'."

Perhaps caught off guard by the word "contract," Shinpo mutters, "Well, you could say that, but..." He seems a bit dissatisfied.

"Aren't you overthinking it? I'm just saying 'let's go out' because I'm too embarrassed to say 'I like you'."

As Zabu looks on in disbelief, Arajin continues.

"But you know, I still don't feel comfortable with just 'I like you' and 'Me too'. For example, even if you find your partner on a date with someone else, if they say they like that person too, you won't be able to say anything."

"That's true, dating implies that 'neither of us will like anyone else' but that's only one possible meaning."

Matakara, who had been listening to Arajin's story, nods in agreement.

"Right? You don't want to get married, but you still want to date, it's kind of half-hearted, even unfair...If you really love the other person, you should just propose and get married!"

"I see...that's right!"

"Eh? Don't just go along with whatever he says! It's way too much responsibility. You can't just get married!"

"Propro~pose, pro~po~se~~!"

Matakara readily agrees, but Zabu retorts, and Komao does a little dance.

"In that case, the 'miso soup' thing Matakara mentioned before might actually be on the right track..."

"What I said earlier, 'Let me make you miso soup every day'?"

"Yeah. There's that vague feeling of wanting to spend the rest of your life together...I guess a man is only as good as his sense of responsibility. That's a true companion."

Arahito pushes his hair back to look cool.

"Ha, stop trying to look cool when you've never even dated."

Zabu looks at Arajin with an expression of amazement, wondering what he was talking about.

"Eh, perhaps..."

"Have you ever dated, Zabu?"

Startled by Arajin and Matakara's words, Zabu lowers his head. He then speaks in a small voice.

His answer:

"No...not yet, for now..."

As time passes quietly by, Matakara suddenly blurts out something.

"I wonder what it would be like, to date someone..."

"Ah..."

"That's right..."

The three of them look off into the distance, thinking about the relationship they have yet to realize.

"It's nothing that special."

It is Komao who says this so nonchalantly.

"You have no idea, you've never even gone out with anyone."

"There is someone."

"Ehh!?" Three boys shout in unison.

"No way..." Zabu mutters while Arajin and Matakara are speechless. None of them can hide their surprise.

Komao!?!? Experienced!?!? And nobody's heard anything about it!?

"I mean, we're going out right now."

"Ehhhh!?"

"Seriously...."

Zabu is unable to hide his shock and can't even look Komao in the eye.

"What's it like? Going out..."

Matakara asks a straightforward question.

"Hmm? Usually we stay together overnight."

"Overnight!?"

"Yeah."

Looking defeated and timid as he raises his hand, Arajin asks,

"Um, well~...Excuse me for asking, but when you say staying the night, does that mean you'll be going to bed together...?"

"'Going to bed'?"

"Well...he means if you're going to sleep in the same room together."

Matakara kindly explains.

"You mean, in the same futon?"

Zabu asks, finally joining in.

"Of course. We always take baths together."

"Baths!?"

"Yeah. But he doesn't like the heat."

Beside the group, who are frozen in place, Komao laughs heartily.

"I see... that's it..."

Matakara manages to squeeze out a reply.

"Do your parents know about this?"

Arahito can only use polite language now.

"Hm? Of course! I mean, they heard his voice the other day too."

"Your parents!"

"His voice!??"

"That guy has such a loud voice~, so I quickly covered his mouth but that just made him go crazy..."

"Stop it already! Stop it, Komao!!"

Unable to bear it any longer, Zabu screams out loud enough to drown out Komao's voice.

Zabu's mind is in turmoil, like a small boat in a storm. They had been talking about what it meant to be in a relationship...but this was too sudden.

Only one of them was going too fast! Where are you going, Komao? No, does that mean the Komao he knew wasn't really Komao after all!?!?

It's no good, Zabu doesn't know what's going on anymore...

"What's up with you Zabu~, don't just scream so suddenly~. Now my ears are ringing."

Komao pouts in dissatisfaction. Zabu looks down and clenches his fists.

"That's not the Komao I know... the Komao I know... isn't like that..." His clenched fists tremble.

"What do you mean? You're joking, aren't you? It's just a game."

"!!!"

"Just a game...that's all? You're seriously calling it that?"

Matakara looks at Komao with a stern expression that he rarely shows to his friends.

"I'm disappointed in you, Komao."

Zabu states, clenching his fists so hard he was close to drawing blood.

"Eh~? Aren't you guys being too serious?"

Immediately afterwards, Zabu grabs Komao by the collar.

"What, what are you talking about! I can't believe you were that kind of guy!"

"Huh!? You guys should just go along with it instead of whining about it."

"What do you think, Ara-chan? Listening to Komao's story."

Matakara's usually soft voice hardens and his expression turns serious as he asks Arajin.

"Me too..."

Arajin quietly bows his head.

"You're right, this kind of thing can't be tolerated, right? Not being serious about the person you love..."

Arajin clenches his fist.

"Me too..."

"That's definitely not okay, Ara-chan..."

"I want to lose my virginity!!!!!"

。。。

The roar blends into the wind that rustles the leaves.

No one speaks.

All that can be heard is the rustling of leaves and the cries of crows...

In the silence, one person speaks up.

"Oh, it's him!"

Komao looks up towards the sound of the crow.

"What? He's...?"

"That's who I'm going out with right now, Caw-chan the crow!"

"Caw! Caw!"

A crow with round eyes, large wings and a lustrous black body flutters down near Komao.

"...A...crow...?"

Komao and this crow? They're going out? They're staying the night together? They were heard by his parents? While Zabu and the others stand there confused, Komao speaks to the crow in a friendly manner.

"Let's take a bath together again today~"

"Caw!"

"If Caw-chan is going to cry, I guess I should go home~,then~,see you tomorrow~!”

"Caw! Caw!"

"So... you're saying... you take baths with a crow?"

As Arajin stands there in a daze, watching Komao leave, Matakara replies, gazing up at the crimson sky where Caw-chan has flown away.

"Well, they do say that crows like a quick bath..."

(The End)

[shi-daisy]

Spring Beast and Silver Queen

Day 6 and here we have the second otp! Like Tamcien (or Feylincien) and Neris own my heart but Neslin has so much potential that I wouldn't mind them being endgame in a Canon. So here's a little oneshot for them with some Fairytale tropes. Hope you like!

@tamlinweek

Tamlin Week 2024- Day 6- Fairy Tale AU

Spring Beast & Silver Queen

Nesta walked onto the decayed manor, it was just as destroyed as the rest of the court.

Lucien might be the only one to come here out of genuine care, but if the mild mannered redhead couldn't do more than this that meant the High Lord was all but dead inside. She understood. Nesta felt the same way.

She found Tamlin sleeping. The male was in his beast form, like that day when he came to their cottage and took her sister. There were times she wished that hadn't happened. Now, she just wished she'd ran when she had the chance.

It didn't matter anymore. It was either Spring or a lock up on Night, and she'd take her chances with the wilted flowers.

Nesta came into the room slowly. A bird that slept on Tamlin's mane woke up, and left out the window, sparing her one last glance.

She kneeled on the floor and gently patted the man. He was alive, just deeply asleep, and he looked so very weak.

'Guess they've broken us both.' She thought.

Who had once been a monster to her now looked so very defenseless and sad Nesta felt compelled to be kind. Maybe being here wouldn't be so bad, at least Tamlin wouldn't bother her about her drinking if the empty wine bottles were any indication.

She didn't know why, but Nesta decided to plant a soft kiss on the beasts forhead, and wait for him to wake. Nesta didn't have to wait long.

Tamlin turned from beast to fae form in a flash, and when his emerald eyes fell on her their bond snapped.

***

A deep silence fell upon the room as he sat up and stared at Nesta who was equally surprised and stunned.

"I...Think you know what this means."

"Yes..."

"Wait! Why are you here, Lady Nesta? Is this another strange dream?"

"Afraid not. I'll explain."

She told him of her downward spiral, of her sister's betrayal and the choice she was given. It nearly made his magic spiral in a rage.

"Stay here I'd that's what you want. I swear I shall protect you." Tamlin managed to say.

"...What about the bond?"

"If you keep it, they cannot take you away. Once we're certain they won't hurt you, then you may do as you wish with it."

It hurt to say, to denounce something he'd once wanted, despite knowing of it worst sides thanks to his parents, and yet...he wanted to prioritize Nesta's free will. It was clear she needed it.

Especially when her frown turned into a slight smile. "I appreciate it."

Baby steps, in time they could be friends.

***

Lucien had come to visit. After she explained the situation the redhead not only returned to stay with his partners but he cut off all ties to Night.

"We will help you rebuild this court!"

That was all they needed to let the Band of Exiles become part of the Spring council.

The Spring Library was a marvel after it was cleaned and she took to devouring every book she could. It helped fix the court and bring back the population.

In a few months things were already looking up, and Tamlin wouldn't stop thanking her. "Lucien did most of the administrative work. Vassa is in charge of diplomacy and Jurian is training the sentries. Why are you thanking me too?"

"Because if you hadn't arrived that day. I wouldn't be here right now. Your silver flame is what kept me holding on and made me rebuild what I shouldn't have left crumble. Thank you."

His gentle hand on hers gave her pause. Despite the slow friendship they'd cultivated and the bond that kept her safe, sometimes Nesta doubted a man like him could want her if it wasn't because of the mating bond. Still, she didn't want to break it. Her safety was at stake but also...she didn't want to hurt Tamlin further.

Nesta felt a tear slide down her cheek, but it was soon wiped away as Tamlin kissed her forehead. "You don't have to say anything. If I have to wait forever I shall. You're worth waiting for."

Worth. She hadn't heard that from anyone.

"There's a lot I still must deal with, but when I do. I'm certain you'll be who I want to spend my time with."

"I'm honored to hear that."

***

Tamlin often thought that beyond any person music would remain his ultimate love. Perhaps that would've been right, as he played his fiddle before the Calanmai celebrations and everyone danced with joy.

Then she stepped into the scene wearing the long sleeved silver dress he'd gotten for her and the glass shoes he'd seen her eyeing at the boutique.

Nesta was a delightful dancer. He knew she loved music as much as he did when she organized all his sheets and instruments with great care, probably more than the books.

Nesta danced beautifully for him, and he didn't remember the last time he'd played that well. By the time the song ended and she stopped dancing, Tamlin had picked her up in his arms and they shared a kiss.

"I love you." Nesta said, and he couldn't help but cry.

"I love you too."

No other Calanmai had left him as breathless and full of joy

***

Eventually they came for her a little over week after their bond was sealed and their frenzy over.

Nesta nearly barbecued the entire inner circle when they tried to get close to Tamlin. He'd wrapped them in thorned vines.

"We are mated. We are happy. We won't bend to you if you're trying to get the crown. Leave!" He said.

Cassian glared at her and Nesta regarded him with indifference, she had the man of her dreams right by her side and wore a crown of roses rather than chains of stars. The only ones she'd mourn for were her sisters, but she was free and she wouldn't apologize for it. Let the. Make their choice for themselves.

And they did. Because when shadows took her to the House of Wind and she was locked in its tower, Nesta could hear a battle far away in the Velaris palace. By now she'd realized Morrigan was the traitor and that Feyre had joined her, but she couldn't wait for them to rescue her. She had to get out herself.

Rhysand had brought her back to fight for Night's side. She wouldn't and so he locked her up. But he forgot she had power and she had read enough to figure out the end of the tale.

Nesta used her power to create thin threads of silver. They grew from her hair and she made sure to tie them onto the balcony rails. It wasn't enough to reach the ground safely, but she wouldn't need to. She saw a figure of green and was aware he High Lord came to save her.

With rope of hair in hand she jumped from the balcony of the tower and safely mounted Tamlin, who was now a dragon.

"My silver flower"

"My fiddler lord."

They flew away as the Obsidian castle in the distance was swallowed up a black hole in the sky. Both of them were worried until the event passed and the castle was nothing but rubble left away.

After landing they spotted Lucien in the distance with the healers. She saw Feyre and Mor with them, out cold but alive.

Tamlin and Nesta both breathed a sigh of relief. Then they looked at eachother. Nesta smiled at the sight of her mate, her beloved and the man who'd come to her rescue.

Tamlin pulled her close, holding his savior, his queen and his beloved.

Nesta kissed him, using words he'd once said to someone else yet were never returned until now. "I love you, thorns & all."

"And love you, my queen Nesta Acheron."

Two birds flew over them as they shared a kiss, into their happily ever after.

[nuctoria]

listen listen listen

Luigi's harem (yes again), marriage proposal.

*Cracks knuckles* here we go! Daisy: Luigi can propose to her and do the traditional one-knee, will you marry me show but it's also very possible for Daisy to be the one to propose. Luigi wants to get married to her but is really hesitant because he wants her to be ready for marriage too and she's royal so it might become more complicated for him. Daisy ends up getting too impatient and it's very obvious he wants to marry her (even though he tried to hide it) so she takes matters into her own hands and plans it all. She asks Mario for some advice and help, Peach joining in to make it more romantic. I think they would have a fun day out, nothing out of the ordinary, maybe playing a sport or two, eat out at a restaurant they like to go to and just have an lovely date, only for her to pull out a ring and ask him to marry her. These two are people who, as much as they like adventure, also like the simple and sweet moments of life, so a calm proposal after a lovely date would work perfectly for them both.

Peasley: He would make it as grand as his love for Luigi, full of flowers, with the important people present to witness this amazing scene, and he rehearsed the entire thing for months, only stopping because his mother forced him too. He was very much nervous but was able to hide it with his usual charm, but grew more excited the closer the moment came and it was so much better than he could have hoped for. To see the shock and teary eyes of his love as he said yes to his proposal, was a memory he'd cherish till the end of his days. A party was held right after the proposal and the two spent the night with each other as fiancés.

Dreambert: I think Dreambert would end up blurting it out after months of having the urge to do it but being too nervous to actually say it. It'd be while they are stargazing, perhaps having an isolated night-time picnic in Somnom Woods, ready to fall asleep as they talk and he had no energy to feel nervous while being sleepy and full of love for the human he's cuddling with. He'll be filled with a calm joy at hearing Luigi say yes and they'd fall asleep together, ready to start the next day as fiancés instead of just boyfriends, starting a new chapter of their lives together.

Bowser: Bowser would do a proposal the way he does everything else, impulsively and chaotically, pulling out all schemes to get the best items needed for the proposal, especially the ring, he'll ensure it is a day to be remembered, which means the wedding will somehow be even more grand and unforgettable. Unless Luigi insists he holds back, no promises that it'll succeed.

King Boo: this dude has more than enough money to spare, and best believe he'll spend it on this special occasion. Not before some good scares and a game of cat and mouse, those are important now. If they are actually together and in an actually happy relationship, the those scares are simple fun, it's not as severe as before, but they both knew they'd miss it if they stopped all together. King Boo would hand pick the best emerald to ever exist and pay as much as needed to tailor the perfect ring for his love, deciding to do it the old-fashioned way of taking Luigi to a candle-lit dinner and proposing under the moonlight, the boos doing anything they possibly can to make it the best proposal known to man. But if we go in the bitter ex route where King Boo wants Luigi back, he'd use the proposal as a way of bargaining, Luigi's hand in marriage even after death for his friends and family's freedom. This again has two routes, one being that Luigi defeatedly accepts so this can all end for good and with his friends begging him to not do it for their sakes but the deal is done. The second route is that he refuses and the final battle ensues but this time, King Boo wins in a sense. Luigi does manage to get the others free and to safety but this time King Boo didn't focus too much on them and manages to capture Luigi, putting the ring on his finger and taking him away where his friends won't be able to follow, keeping him forever.

Antasma: Like Dreambert, it will mostly be in an isolated area and instead of planning it, he'll wait for the perfect moment to happen on its own and use it to propose. He wants to make sure both of them are ready, when they've settled down, are sure everything around them is calm and the mood is set just right for the proposal to be made. Which works perfectly, it's not planned, it's not unique, it's not particularly special, but it's right, it's right for them and it truly feels real to them. It feels like this moment is theirs alone, like the world created this moment just for them.

Dimentio: for him, he probably talked about marriage as they got more comfortable with each other and doesn't think proposals are that special until he started imagining it for himself and being called Luigi's fiancé which got him to feel warm and fuzzy inside, igniting the excitement of later calling Luigi his husband. He made sure the proposal was the definition of magic, making it grand and magical, even making a short speech before asking Luigi to marry him, making the poor plumber flustered at seeing all these beautiful show just for him and accept the proposal. This is for the wholesome route, I got a whole other story for the darker route.

Hope this is satisfactory!

[johaerys-writes]

Hello! Can you share some hcs/tidbits of Patrochilles that you choose not to show through the chapters of Disasters!AU? I'd love to see how you imagined them to be outside the picture😁 thank you, and have a nice day!!

Thank you so much for this ask!! I have a lot of headcanons for these two but after writing close to 150k words for this fic I'm not sure there are many I haven’t shared 😅 But there's a few that come to mind (mostly fluffy bc I love them):

- Every year Achilles makes a cake for Patroclus’s birthday. Every year, he fucks it up somehow. Either the frosting isn't right, or it doesn't cook all the way, or it deflates, or he forgets to get one ingredient or other. He has many talents but baking isn't one of them 🤣 And it's almost become kind of a tradition now so Achilles is always looking forward to Patroclus' reaction when he presents him his little fucked up cake. 

- They once tried to build a boat/raft from scraps and bits of wood they found in the garage and the fields. They started the project because a)they were bored, and b) Ajax told them that the Spercheios river goes all the way down to Athens (it doesn't). It took them two weeks to finish it and gather provisions etc for their voyage. They took it to the creek. It sank. Achilles cried for hours. It was wild

- I think this is obvious from the fic but as well as they get on with each other they do bicker quite a lot. Achilles can be deeply annoying and/or set in his ways, and Patroclus is also stubborn, in his own way. He is sometimes hesitant to try new things or might get a little sad and withdrawn or completely tune Achilles out, and Achilles just wants to shake him LOL. Also growing up Patroclus had to sometimes act as Achilles' impulse control, like "no we can't set this random pile of dried leaves by the side of the road on fire" or "no we won't ride to the beach at 3am on a winter Tuesday, we have class tomorrow" etc etc, but more often than not he is following Achilles in whatever dumb thing he's made up his mind to do, and then they bicker when it all goes south instead 🙃

- While they were in Phthia, they actually slept together almost every night whenever Peleus wasn't home. It wasn't romantic or anything at first, they just spent so much time together and in each other’s rooms that it didn't make sense to separate for sleep. Or sometimes they'd just fall asleep while talking/reading/watching films etc. Also like, with no parents or other caretakers in sight they were essentially each other’s source of comfort and affection and sometimes you just want to cuddle up with your bestie under a blanket and not do much else. ALSO also this isn't surprising bc the story deals quite a bit with toxic masculinity and internalised homophobia and how that affects Pat and Achilles, but I have a lot of thoughts about how the pressure to "man up" and "be tough" as they grew up really started to wear on them (especially Achilles), bc like what's wrong with crying or showing emotion or hugging your best friend or holding his hand or kissing him on the cheek! What's wrong with being soft and tender with the people you care about, what's wrong with any of it. So being able to come back home and have their safe space to vent and cry and be goofy and cuddle and not have to act a certain way around each other was such a lifesaver for them.

[Also I think their physical intimacy is something that's universal across every possible iteration of Patrochilles out there lol they're just super comfortable touching and hugging and kissing etc and I simply love how it might not even have sexual connotations a lot of the time, it's just something they do. They just like to glomp]

- I think this has been mentioned in the fic at some point, but Achilles often composes incredibly silly songs on the guitar or changes the lyrics to popular songs to tease Patroclus and Laika with. Often extremely early in the morning.

- Achilles has taught himself to knit and crochet as a result of a past hyperfixation over the span of a summer. The bright orange scarf he wears in Chapter 20 is one of his own creations, and Patroclus literally loves that thing. He teases him about it all the time. Achilles has made a few wonky beanies and mittens for Patroclus as well while he was practicing, they're very stylish (NOT lmao)