#my favourite pass time is to ask my friends to draw floor plans of how they imagine my workplace to look

[ninyard]

Hey Nin! 4 for the aftg ask game?

4. If you could choose to make one fictional place from the books real, which one?

My second answer to this one I THINK is like… the nest in a weird way? I DO NOT want the cult to exist obviously but I’d love to walk around it. To really just picture it and see what a real version of the nest would possibly look like

[promenadewithme]

May I please have prompt 62 with Simon Basset x female!reader?

Of course! Thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Simon Basset x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 62 (”She doesn’t belong with him” “Than who does she belong with?” “...with me.”)

Warnings: very slight angst with a happy ending. I'm sorry, but I just had to include him saying "I burn for you".

Word count: 1.7 k

Tell me if you want to join my tag list!

Oblivious

__________________________________________

Dearest Readers,

it has come to this author’s attention that Lady (y/n) (y/l/n) and Lord Benedict Bridgerton were seen promenading earlier this week. We all know Miss (y/l/n) to be a close friend to the Bridgertons, but will she officially become part of the family? Rest assured, if there is an engagement this author will find out.

Your’s Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

__________________________________________

YOUR P.O.V.

“This is absurd!” you exclaimed. “We were seen walking and now we’re to be married?”

“Calm down, (y/n). You know Whistledown is just a gossip, no one will remember this in a week.” said Benedict, putting down his sketchbook to look at you. 

As soon as you woke, your lady’s maid showed the infamous society papers and you all but ran to the Bridgerton estate. Benedict was, as always, in the drawing room sketching away. He had already read the paper, but thought nothing of it. He was calm, so calm it irritated you.

“Ben, you don’t understand! If people think I’m engaged to you, they will stop courting me and, unless you plan on marrying me, that is a disaster! I have to marry this season!” at this point Benedict stood up and caressed your arm in an attempt of calming you down. To anyone else, this scene would be scandalous and incredibly improper, but you and Ben have known eachother since infancy and were the best of friends, so there was nothing romantic about the gesture.

“(y/n), my dear, what is this rush? We are still young, you can see so many more seasons before being considered a spinster. You are beautiful, smart, accomplished and any man in the ton would be more that lucky to have you as his wife. If they don’t see it, it’s their loss. As for the rumors chasing them away, I believe it will do quite the opposite.” he said with a smirk.

“Whatever do you mean? If they believe I am to be married, how would it attract them?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, not to brag, but I am a Bridgerton. If they think you caught my eye, they’d be curious to know what’s so special about you. So, don’t fret. All will be well.” With one last reassuring squeeze, he turned around and sat back down. “Now, are you going to Lady Danbury’s ball this evening?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at his sketch, not quite contempt with the shading.

“Of course I am, it’s the biggest ball of the season!” you exclaimed, sitting down on the sofa in front of him.

“Thank the heavens! If my mother tries to push eligible ladies my way, I’ll run in your direction.” he said, still sketching. Benedict stopped for a second and looked up at you “I heard a certain Duke will be there.” he stated with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and said “We all know he is bewitched by Daphne, it does not matter if he will be there.” 

“Of course it matters, you are in love with the man! And, to be completely honest, I don’t believe it is my sister who his heart belongs to. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, it’s the same way Colin looks at maps or Eloise looks at books.” He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped.

“Like I’m an object?” you said, kidding of course and dying to change the subject. You had the tendency to get your hopes up and the last thing you wanted was to believe your friend and end up with a broken heart.

“Like you hung the moon and the stars.” he had a serious expression and your heart skipped a beat with the thought that Simon would ever look at you that way, but you knew it would never happen. So you waved your hand, smiled and said “I think all the charcoal and paint is going straight to your brain, Mr. Bridgerton. I expect to see your hands all clean if you are to dance with me to trick your poor mama.” Standing up, you curtsied mockingly and said your goodbyes before walking out the door. 

SIMON'S P.O.V.

Simon woke with news from Lady Whistledown. He was never one to believe in gossip, but Daphne was always talking about the society papers during their fake courting, so his curiosity got the best of him. What he did not expect was to read (y/n)'s name.

He had sworn to himself that he would never marry, but arriving at the beginning of the season he couldn't help but be smitten by you. He tried to fight it, but every time you smiled he saw himself smiling along, every time you wore his favourite colour he forgot how to breathe, and every time he saw you with Benedict Bridgerton he couldn't control his jealousy.

He confided in Daphne about it and she guaranteed (y/n) and the second Bridgerton son were just close friends, but Lady Whistledown seems to think differently. To be married? Was this true? If so, he knew it was for the best. He would be able to keep his promise to himself, but he could not help the ache in his heart as he dressed for the day.

(Y/N)'S P.O.V.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pleased with the outcome. Your lady's maid had weaved delicate flowers in your hair, that was pulled up loosely and you wore your newest dress, long white gloves and the family diamonds. Madame Delacroix really outdid herself this time. It was your favourite colour, with princess sleeves, only slightly puffed, and had embroidered tulle at the hem and bottom part of the skirt. You looked truly beautiful.

"(y/n), it's time to-" your mother paused at the door and looked at you. She smiled softly at your reflection. "You look so beautiful, my dear... Do you think a certain Lord might like it too?" she said smiling softly.

"It is not the Lord's attention I want, mama. You know Ben is just a friend" you said, playing with the skirt of your dress.

"I know, sweetheart, I just don't want you do get hurt. All I want is for you to be happy and what better than to marry your best friend?" she hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek, still looking at your reflection.

"To marry the one you love..."

SIMON'S P.O.V.

"You really have outdone yourself, Lady Danbury." Simon said, looking down at the woman who practically raised him. She was wearing a white gown, a tiara and long white gloves, radiant as always, leaning on her cane.

"I always do, my boy. Now, look at that! Your beloved has arrived." she declared with a small smirk.

"I have already spoken to Daphne" he said, nodding in the Bridgerton family direction, however his heart was beating out of his chest as he turned to look at (y/n). It seemed impossible, but she was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her. Simon looked away before he was caught staring.

"We both know I'm not speaking of the Bridgerton girl. You are not as discreet in your brooding as you like to think." he looked at you again, but you were already speaking to Benedict, who was leading you to the dance floor. "What is bothering you, boy?"

Simon stared at the pair dancing for a moment before responding. "She does not belong with him."

"Than who does she belong with?" (y/n) was laughing at something Benedict said and Simon could not bare the view anymore.

"...With me." he mumbled before heading to the gardens.

(Y/N)'S P.O.V.

The song finished and you curtsied, smiling at your best friend. The smile slowly turned into a frown as you saw Simon walking out, into the gardens.

"Go after him." Benedict whispered.

"What? We would be unchaperoned, it would be scandalous!" you answered, only loud enough for him to hear.

"I'll stand at the door and make sure no one sees. Go!" you smiled and wished you could hug you best friend. "Thank you, Ben." you said as you went into the garden after the man you love. The weather was pleasant and the garden was completely empty, with only the Duke passing back and forth close to the bushes.

"Simon?" he stopped in his tracks, looking surprised as he gazed back at you and stepped closer.

"What are you doing here, if we were to be caught unchaperoned yo-" you stopped the nervous man by saying "Benedict is at the door, no one will see."

"Of course he is." he mumbled, but you heard.

"What does that mean?" you asked, not understanding his sudden dislike for the lord.

"It means he is always around, always with you." he spat out.

"Well, he is my best friend." you could not believe what he was saying. "What do you have against him?" you questioned.

"Are you truly to be married?" he demanded, ignoring your question.

"What?" you replied, completely incredulous.

"Please don't." he murmured.

"Simon, I-" you tried to answer but he cut you off.

"Before you say anything, please listen to me. Don't marry him, please." he paused for a second, adjusting his posture. "I love you. You..." he shook his head. "You don't even know what you do to me. Ever since I can remember, I have promised myself I would never fall victim to love, would never marry, would not let my family name carry on. Then came you."

Simon took a step closer and continued to speak. "You changed my plans, awoke desires I never knew I had, you have stolen my heart and my soul... I burn for you." he took your gloved hands in his, caressing them softly. "Don't marry him, marry me." he gazed into your eyes, waiting your answer.

"Simon... It was never my plan to marry Benedict, I was completely honest when I said he is nothing but a friend." you smiled up at him before saying "you are the one I love, always have been."

Simon grinned before pulling you into a passionate kiss, one hand on your back and the other behind your neck. It was a good thing Benedict was at the door, if anyone saw this scene and the rumours reached Lady Whistledown... You didn't even want to think about the ruin it would bring upon your family.

When you and Simon finally parted you managed to mumble "We truly have been oblivious, haven't we? I thought you were in love with Daphne." he chuckled.

"And I thought you to be with Benedict. Good thing you followed me out here, my love." he said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"From now on, it's all I'll ever do."

[blu-joons]

Hair Wash ~ Kim Mingyu

A sigh came from Mingyu as he looked into the bedroom to see that you weren’t around. Several lights were on, scattered around the apartment as he went in search of you, keen to see you after his day and share the many stories that had been told. His mind was full of excitement as he passed by each room, until eventually your figure could be found.

“There you are,” he grinned as he walked into the bathroom to find you reaching up to the top of the cabinet, pulling down your shampoo bottle. “I thought you might have jumped out of the window or something.”

Your head shook as you offered Mingyu an inviting smile to come into the room. “We’re fifteen floors up Mingyu otherwise that might have been tempting,” you joked, “you were in search of me anyway?”

“I was, but it looks like you might be a little bit busy.”

As his eyes looked around the room, noticing your towel on the floor, hairbrush in hand with the showerhead prepared to use at the top of the bath, Mingyu finally remembered your plans for the evening with several of your friends.

“I was only going to wash my hair,” you spoke, trailing off as an idea quickly popped into your mind, “unless maybe someone might want to do it for me?”

“Really?” Mingyu challenged, unable to stop his tone of voice raising in excitement, “can you trust me in to wash your hair for your big night out with your friends, I wouldn’t want to mess things up.”

“It’s washing my hair Mingyu, if I was going to give you my curling wand then I might have something to worry about,” you assured him, taking a step to one side as you brushed through your hair, “so, do you think you can do it?”

His head nodded proudly as you lifted your top over your head, throwing it to the floor so that it stayed quiet. “Like you say, how hard can washing hair be? I wash my hair every day and I’ve not made any mistakes yet.”

“Just make sure that you take care of me like you do yourself,” you warned as you leant over the bath, feeling Mingyu’s arm reach behind you to lift off the showerhead and turn the water on, keeping a close eye on it.

Mingyu was careful to turn the water away from you as he waited for it to reach an ideal temperature, drafting his hand underneath it every so often. “I’ll take the best care of you.”

After a few minutes Mingyu moved the showerhead over the top of your head, carefully blocking your eyes and ears with his free hand. Once he was sure that your hair was damp, he placed the showerhead down before picking up the shampoo, squeezing a small portion into his hand.

“Now, just let me know if I get any of this in your eye, and I’ll give you a free hit.”

“I’m not going to punch you Mingyu, it’s fine.”

With a deep breath, he began to massage his hands over the top of your scalp, running through your locks to make sure all of your hair was covered. “This smells incredible,” Mingyu whispered as the scent of mango began to fill the room.

You hummed back at him as your eyes fluttered shut, embracing the feeling of Mingyu’s fingertips running over the top of your head. “It’s the one you complimented when I came to the show not to long ago, do you remember?”

“Of course,” he grinned from above you, “how could I forget the fact that you came out to Japan to surprise me on the road, that was one of my favourite memories, ever.”

A soft chuckle came from you as shampoo began to run down the front of your face, quickly catching it with your hands. A quick apology came form Mingyu as he picked the showerhead back up, checking the water temperature before turning it towards you.

His hand came around once again to protect your face, carefully moving the head so that the shampoo ran off into the bathtub and towards the plug.

You stayed perfectly still whilst Mingyu rinsed out your hair, moving his fingers through the length of your hair each time to make sure that all of the product was out. Once he was content, he reached across to turn the water off, placing the head down in the bath.

His eyes immediately looked down, stretching his leg out to pull your towel across. “I’ll dry it too,” he announced as he picked up your towel, “can you trust me to do that as well?”

“I can’t trust you with much, but I think a towel is alright,” you joked.

Mingyu took the ends of the towel and scooped your hair up, drawing it to the top of your head whilst guiding you up so that you were stood up straight again.

As your back collided with his chest, your eyes widened, bringing a laugh from above you as Mingyu noticed your expression. “Careful, you’ll turn the same colour as that shampoo bottle.”

Your head shook as you tried to keep the colour down in your cheeks, focusing instead on the feeling of Mingyu drying through your hair. His hands moved in a circular motion over the top of your head, making sure that he didn’t miss a single part of your hair.

Once the back was done, he spun you around, coming face to face with you. “I told you that you’ll turn the colour of the bottle, what’s with the smile?”

“I’m just enjoying myself,” you smiled back at him, “it’s been a while since I’ve not had to wash my hair for myself, and I have to say you’re doing quite the job of washing it, you might have yourself a job if you carry on like this.”

“Shall I just quit being an idol?” He quizzed, “become a professional hairwasher?”

Your head nodded back at him as the corners of Mingyu’s mouth turned up into a smile. His hands continued to dance over the top of your head, making sure he was focused.

“Now, as good as a job that I think I’ve done,” Mingyu began, “I think maybe your curling wand might be a step too far for me, I want you looking beautiful tonight.”

Your head instantly nodded in agreement with him, “I was thinking even the hairdryer might be a bit of a step too far for you too, I still remember the frantic call in Florida when you thought you’d set the top of your head on fire.”

His eyes rolled as he startled himself remembering the memory too. “That was the result of some afternoon drinking, and a security guard banging on my door to hurry me up for a schedule.”

Your eyebrows raised, still doubting as ever how truthful Mingyu was in telling the story for the sake of his own pride. “You’ve done a great job of washing my hair though Mingyu, it’s going to be perfect for this dinner tonight now.”

“Let me dry it for a few more minutes and then I’ll let you take control of things again.”

Your head nodded gently, “you’re enjoying yourself a bit too much, aren’t you?”

“What can I say? I just enjoy spending time with you.”

“And you love my hair too?” You asked.

“Of course, your hair is my favourite.”

---

Masterlist

[ggukbabyy]

bro... idk about the whole plot of the drabble but it definitely should have some sexual tension going on but i'm not talking about a quick tension, you know... it could take hours or days idk i feel like you would kill it

“No, never,” you comment with a small shake of your head. Taehyung looks indignant.

“Everyone has done something outside of the bedroom at some point.”

You simply shake your head. “Not me.” Your eyes flick to Jeongguk briefly, his gaze drilling holes into the side of your face. He leans forward, forearms resting on the table.

“You’ve never needed someone so badly you couldn’t wait?” His voice is deep and husky, a hidden implication giving his words weight. You hold his gaze.

“The waiting is the fun part.” The corner of his mouth forms a faint smirk.

“That’s where we’ll have to disagree,” he replies, holding your eyes as he takes a long pull from his drink. Everyone breaks off into different conversations, the intrigue of your reluctance to perform sexual acts in a public space no longer the most interesting thing to discuss. Jeongguk appears to be the only one not ready to let it go.

You sit opposite him in the pub, enough people occupying the space that the din of background conversation makes it hard for others to hear as Jeongguk leans across the table once again.

“Do you really believe that? About waiting?” You’re not quite sure why he’s so interested but you entertain his line of questioning.

“100 percent,” you reply without hesitation and Jeongguk nods slowly as he considers your answer.

“You don’t think the desperation to have someone near you, in you, there and then is fun? How is that not better than waiting?” His eyebrows are drawn together in skepticism. He can’t for the life of him understand how you could enjoy waiting. It’s disheartening to hear when he’s spent the better part of the night trying to figure out a plan that would get you to follow him into the toilets. You’ve been acquaintances for about 4 months and he’s spent an embarrassingly large proportion of his time in your company thinking of all the different ways he’d like to spend his time with you if he could get you alone. And not for one second would he want to wait.

“I enjoy the anticipation,” you begin, moving to mirror his position. Jeongguk gets a wonderful eyeful of cleavage and he takes his time appreciating it.

“Wanting it so desperately and knowing you can’t have it now makes it all the better when it does happen.” For most of the sentence Jeongguk is picturing his dick between your tits so he only half hears what you say.

“Anticipation doesn’t change shit,” replies Jeongguk, leaning slightly closer. A small smile plays across your face, head tilted to the side slightly.

“It’s my favourite,” your voice has turned sultry, the alcohol muddling Jeongguk’s brain preventing him from noticing the change immediately. “The person is so close and not close enough, almost touching where you want and you could scream in frustration because two centimeters to the left and it would feel so fucking good, but they make you wait,” your voice is soft and captivating; even with everything happening around Jeongguk you’re the only one he can hear. His whole body feels jittery yet he’s glued to the spot, his chest beginning to rise and fall just a little deeper as you draw the perfect picture for him. “And wait some more, until I could cry, until I’m begging for the slightest touch or kiss in just the right place, so desperate and needy.” The switch from describing a situation to talking about yourself doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeongguk. In fact, it makes the room seem a little hotter, his pants feel a little tighter, his brain seems a little more clouded as he tries to focus on anything but the sounds you’d make as you beg or the words you’d say to get what you wanted from him. Saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of you spread below him close to tears with desperation. Your eyes are alive and wild yet the rest of your face is the picture of innocence and he’s not sure how much more he can take. You’re inching closer to his face across the table as you speak.

“But you don’t like waiting, do you Jeongguk?” You ask and he can faintly feel the warmth of your breath against his lips from this distance. He swallows thickly.

“You don’t want to keep me waiting, don’t like the idea of making me beg for it? For you?” You add on innocently, eyebrows raised as though you’d asked a perfectly simple, appropriate question. Jeongguk can barely form a coherent sentence with his head so full of everything you’ve just said. You stay there leaning on the table for a few more seconds, Jeongguk’s eyes flicking down to your lips, the air around you both suffocating and heavy. You grin widely before leaning back into your chair triumphantly. Jeongguk’s eyes are clouded with arousal, not trying to hide where your words have taken him and his reluctance to return to the real world. By the time he does you’ve moved on to a conversation with Jimin, giggling at his shit jokes. You don’t look Jeongguk’s way once for the rest of the night and it drives him insane.

-----

Two weeks later and you’re at Jimin’s place for a barbecue with a friend. Only Jimin’s housemates are Yoongi and Jeongguk, and no one told Jeongguk you were coming over. Ever since the night at the pub, Jeongguk has fantasised about you more than he would care to admit - even to himself. More than a few times his hand wandered south with pictures of you flashing behind his eyelids, replaying the conversation you’d had over and over, vividly picturing you doing the things you’d described. So when he walks out of the patio doors into the garden to see you laid across a towel on the floor, the smallest bikini he has ever witnessed wrapped around your body, to describe his feelings as shocked is a gross understatement. From his vantage point he can watch you while you remain none the wiser, so he takes the precious time to appreciate everything that you are. Your legs go on for miles and are toned to perfection, your tits fill out your bikini with some left to spill over the side and yearning burns deep in his stomach to have his lips against the smooth flesh, dragging his tongue leisurely across your nipple. Images of you begging for him flash violently across his mind, and he’s itching to return to his bedroom for a few minutes. But then you turn over and notice him, a lazy grin creeping slowly across your mouth.

“Can I help you?” You ask innocently, eyes dancing with amusement at having caught Jeongguk staring. He saunters over to you, arms braced behind him as he sits down.

“You’re in my garden, I should be asking you that question.” Your eyes are glued on the way his biceps tense to support his weight. It should be illegal for Jeongguk to walk around shirtless, even if it is the height of summer. For the sake of your own sanity he should walk around in a full wetsuit - but you’re sure he’d manage to make that look sexy. His broad chest is on full display, the golden skin pulled taut against the toned muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes continue their journey down his stomach, thoughts swirling at the dusting of hair beneath his belly button, following it down until it disappears beneath his shorts.

“Are you nearly done?” Amusement drips from his words as you pull your eyes from their pleasant detour. You fight desperately to keep the heat from your face.

“Almost.” Jeongguk’s tongue pokes the side of his cheek at your answer. He’s used to girls fawning over him, melting into a puddle of shy giggles and doting compliments. Not this. The idea of having you begging beneath him becomes more and more appealing the more you demonstrate all the ways you need to be taught a lesson.

Both of you bask in the heat of the sun in silence, music drifting out from the kitchen, Yoongi’s contagious laughter bringing a smile to your face. Surreptitiously you peek one eye open, looking sideways at Jeongguk. The perfect definition of his jaw is showcased with the way his head is tilted towards the sun, little beads of sweat developing at his temples and clinging to the nape of his neck.

“You should really put suncream on,” you state, shutting your eye before he can catch you again.

“Are you offering?” His tone is bored but excitement thrills through his chest.

“Not really.” Jeongguk fights the smile threatening to reveal itself.

“If I end up burning, it'll be all your fault,” Jeongguk complains, and when you say nothing in return, his arms buckle under his weight dramatically, his back thudding against the grass.

“I can feel the blisters forming already,” he groans, rocking side to side. You suppress chuckles as you watch his performance.

“Unngh,” he groans, turning his head to look at you, a fake pained expression pulling against his features. “I need you to put suncream on me,” he whines, “please.” His lips jut into a pout.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you reply with an eye roll, Jeongguk all but ignoring it as a delighted grin lights up his face.

While you grab the cream, Jeongguk arranges himself into his original position, a satisfied smile gracing his plump lips as he basks in both his small victory and the heat of the sun. His smile vanishes, eyes snapping open, when he feels the cool of a shadow passing across him only to be faced with you straddling his lap. Your expression is the picture of innocence, eyes wide, head tilted, soft lips slightly parted as you hold to bottle of cream in one hand expectantly, but a flicker of wickedness flashes across your eyes, there one second and gone so quickly Jeongguk could almost convince himself that you’re clueless to the effect your close proximity has on him. But the way your back arches into him gives you away.

Jeongguk hisses a breath through his teeth at the first contact of the suncream against his warm skin and you giggle. There’s no hint of amusement on his face. Having you so close and yet unable to touch you has his mind reeling and frustration bubbling like acid in the pit of his stomach. You smell incredible, sweet and floral, and your hands are delicate as they roam his chest and stomach, eyes completely focused on the task at hand. He sighs deeply as he lets himself become lost in the way you touch him, the way your hands rove confidently, traversing low enough to have him forcing down the urge to buck his hips against you.

Nothing in the world is going to pull your gaze from the path your hands trace against Jeongguk’s skin. From his broad shoulders and collarbones you would be happy to drag your tongue across, to your palm grazing his nipple, noting the muscle in his jaw jumping at the contact. Down, down, down his stomach as low as his shorts allow, over his hips and waist. All amusement has vanished as your fingers explore. Jeongguk’s breathing is deep as you toy with the waistband of his shorts, slipping the tip of your finger just underneath. He’s watching you like a hawk, nostrils flaring as he wills you to just reach down, give him the look so he can take you upstairs and show you there’s no fun in waiting. Instead you raise your eyes to his and breathe out, “I need to do your arms.”

He shifts his weight forward, one arm held out for you, the other sliding around your body, hand resting gently on your arse. Raising your eyebrows questioningly at the placement, Jeongguk simply shrugs, a devilish smile flashing at you.

“What’s the matter, darling?” His deep voice questions. You forego a reply, squeezing cream directly onto his arm. He watches your face with delight as you continue.

“Turn around so I can do your back,” your voice is barely above a whisper. Having him so close for so long is starting to prove difficult. You can’t get your thoughts away from his hands, how strong and big they are in your own, how they’d wrap perfectly around your neck or how easy it would be for Jeongguk to prod and massage your g-spot until you were exhausted from overstimulation. It hasn’t slipped your notice that he’s been getting progressively harder beneath you, every inch of him pushing against your core. It’s getting hard to breathe, hard to look him in the eye - he relishes every second of your struggle with a cocky grin. His eyes are heavy and clouded with arousal and he drags his gaze leisurely down your body and back again.

“I’m sure you can reach from here, darling.” The determined look in your eye has Jeongguk chuckling. The action of reaching your hands over his shoulders and down his back has your chest pushing into his face and a small groan rumbles in Jeongguk’s throat. Your stomach burns with desire at the sound, a desperate need to hear the sound over and over, louder and then whispered into your ear, claws mercilessly at your insides, threatening to suffocate you. Without thinking you push your hips down in an effort to garner some friction against your swollen clit. The manoeuver doesn’t go unnoticed.

Jeongguk’s mind is blank. Your arse is pushing back into his palms, his fingers massaging the supple flesh delicately. With your tits so close to his face he determines it would be criminal if he doesn’t lean forward just a little more. His hair tickles your cheek as he moves, his nose brushing your chest as he gets closer. He flattens his tongue against the swell of your breast, licking a stripe against your glowing skin before sinking his teeth into you. A small gasp escapes your lips, hips rutting against him of their own accord. He groans again, using his hands to push you into him harder, desperation and frustration intermingling at the clothing separating your pussy from his bare skin. He pulls back to look up at you, the muscles of his jaw jumping as he restrains himself. Your lips are so close, both of your chests rising and falling rapidly, each waiting to see what the other will do, the atmosphere suffocating as the tension rises. Jeongguk’s gaze is intense and his eyes flick briefly down to your lips, his intentions and desires clear.

“Come to my room.” His voice is gravelly and shoots heat directly to where you need his touch the most. “Let me touch you, make you feel so good, princess.”

“We can’t,” you whisper back, lacking conviction.

“Why not?” Whines Jeongguk.

“Everyone will see and they’ll know.” It’s a feeble excuse and your resolve to stick with it is crumbling quickly.

“I’ll happily fuck you out here if that’s what you’d prefer.” Your cheeks flame at the idea. “It would be easy,” he continues, mind so consumed with you and his need to have you as close as possible. His fingers skim the apex of your thigh, toying with the edge of your bikini. “I’d just have to pull this to the side and then I’d see your pretty pussy, but I bet you have a tight cunt, couldn’t take my cock all at once.” Your core clenches reflexively at his words and you know you’re absolutely fucked.

“Come to my room,” he states, moving your hips over his with his hands. You smile devilishly, leaning forward until your lips almost brush.

“I’m sure you can wait a little bit longer.”

an; so i clearly don't know the meaning of the word drabble and you said i'd kill it so the perfectionism took over and i couldn't stop until i thought it was good

[aromantic-enjolras]

Spanish!Grantaire headcanons

So @a-little-fall-of-pain wanted Spanish!Grantaire headcanons... Ask, and you shall recieve. ;)

(I’m keeping the Amis based in France, so this is “Spanish Grantaire who migrated”, not “Spanish!Les Mis”)

Grantaire went to a Lycée Français as a kid, because his parents considered the curriculum was better. Don’t ask him how he managed to pass both the BAC and the Selectividad the same year, it’s all a blur. [BAC and Selectividad are the national exams to get into university for France and Spain respectively; the Lycée Français are French education centers outside of France that follow the French system and laws.]

He knows all the lyrics to the ‘Cara al Sol’, because as a teenager he was an absolute edgelord and he thought it was funny. [’Cara al Sol’ is the hymn of the fascist party during the Spanish dictatorship]

He arrived to France as an Erasmus, expecting to just breeze through his subjects while partying all year long, and was deeply disappointed when he discovered he was still supposed to study. And then he just.... kinda stayed. When asked why, as a Classics student, he has gone to France and not Italy or Greece, he just shrugs and says something along the lines of “I’m lazy and I already spoke French, it seemed like a good plan”. [The Erasmus program is a EU plan that allows European students to go study to another European country for a year, and it’s reputed as being “an easy way to pass difficult subjects without studying”. Spoilers: it’s not.]

For all his years of French, he can’t pronounce the French ‘r’ correctly. That’s where the nickname ‘R’ comes from.

One of his favourite quips when one of the Amis talks about an injustice in France is “oh, in Spain it’s way worse”, followed by “but you’ll get there, don’t worry”.

He likes cooking, but he puts pork in everything. That was actually a big problem when he started living with JBM, because Bossuet might not be actively Muslim, but he does come from a country where pork is considered “not food”, and it disgusts him. Grantaire has sworn that some day he will get him to try ham, at least.

In the same vein, one time his mom gave him a box of traditional Spanish sweets “to bring to his nice friends in Paris” and he had to put a disclaimer before the meeting to warn half of the Amis not to eat them. [A good chunk of traditional Spanish sweets use pork grease instead of butter, so if you’re Jewish, Muslim or vegetarian... they’re a big old trap]

He hauls 5 to 10 liters of olive oil every time he comes back after the holidays, because he swears that French olive oil “just has no flavour”.

His favourite musician is Joaquín Sabina. He connects to his lyrics on a visceral level... Musichetta has a good level of Spanish and she likes him too, and they’ve gone to see him a couple of times together. Joly and Bossuet always come for the ride, and take advantage of the trip to do some turism.

Grantaire’s parents have a small appartment in one of those gigantic beach-cities made entirely for turists by the Mediterranean, and he has invited the Amis to go a few times. The appartment is small, so they end up sleeping in piles on the floor, but it’s a lot of fun.

When he discovered Combeferre was descendant of Civil War refugees, he tracked down an old high school friend who had turned out to be a leftist and asked him to get him a Republican flag. He gave it to Combeferre for his birthday, passing it as a “saw this and I thought you’d like it”. [The Republic was the government in Spain right before the Civil War.]

I think I could come up with more, but I’m going to leave it there. Feel free to add on! ^^

@alavolontedupeuplee, @juliensorelisoverparty, @my-life-as-a-reader, @sapphicfolch, @intheeyeofthehurricanee I’m trying to think of more Spanish speakers around here but I’m drawing a blank, I’m ashamed of myself oO

[ahtsumu]

the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡

Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.

This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.

“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.

“Earth to Y/N?”

And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.

“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.

Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”

A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”

When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.

You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.

“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”

A beat passes.

This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.

“Right.”

Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”

“I went to look for you.”

He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”

“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.

With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.

Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”

He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.

That urge to just say it returns.

“Kuroo, I think––”

“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”

And it goes away again.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”

Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”

Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.

But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.

“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

Say it.

“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”

Say it.

“I just got buzzed. What about you?”

“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”

Say it.

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

Not yet.

“Let’s go on an adventure.”

At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.

“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.

“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.

“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.

The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.

But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.

“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.

“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”

“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.

Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.

“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”

Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.

“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.

Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.

“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.

“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”

It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.

He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.

“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.

“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”

“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”

Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”

You blink. “What?”

“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”

“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.

A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.

Is it so bad to dream, though?

You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.

“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?

At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.

“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”

Good question.

Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.

“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.

“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.

Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”

You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.

“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.

But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.

“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.

“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?

“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.

“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.

“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!” 

You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.

You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.

“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.

“Where were you this whole time?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.

“I did.” He doesn’t take it.

“Lucky you.”

Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”

“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.

“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”

A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.

But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.

You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.

Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.

“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––

You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.

Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.

As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.

The entire drive home is silent.

Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.

“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.

“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.

“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.

Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”

Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”

“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”

An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”

“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”

Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.

“And… you don’t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.

And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”

And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.

Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”

“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.

“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”

“Of what?”

It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”

Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.

After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.

Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”

You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.

“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.

“You wanna know why I was so scared?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.

“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.

Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.” 

(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.) 

“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”

“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.

“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”

“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”

[marvelatthetwilight]

Good to be home.

A/N: Just a quick one while I sort out some follow up pieces.

You had missed your brother immensely in the 5 years since you had been home. You were 7 when your mom left, and your dad moved you both back to La Push hoping that being back at the reservation would help you both, growing up as part of a community. Your dad gradually grew distant, starting to drink more and more. Sometimes he could be gone for days at a time, leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves. You relied on each other for everything. It was a shock when, at 13, your dad decided you should go back to Tacoma and stay with your grandparents, claiming that he couldn’t care for two teenagers, and that your brother was “easier” to deal with.

And so, the two of you were separated. Partners in crime, peas in a pod, best friends, ripped apart.

When your grandparents passed away, you finally had the money and the means to move back to La Push, reuniting you and your brother Paul once again.

~~~

“Y/N Lahote as I live and breathe!” Jared Cameron came bounding over to your car as you pulled up to the address Paul sent you.

“Paul has NOT stopped talking about you coming home, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited” Jared smiled as he opened up the passenger door and helped you with your bags.

“Jared, you look so grown up! You used to be so weedy! What happened?” You stared incredulously at him, he had grown at least a foot since you last saw him, had filled out and become muscular, nothing like the Jared you were expecting to see.

“Ha! If you think that’s something, just wait until you see your brother.”

You followed him into the house which you understood to be Emily and Sam’s. They had offered to let you stay with them whilst Paul was still finishing his house he was building for himself and Rachel.

As you entered the kitchen you were greeted with a hug from Emily, you recognised her from the photos Paul had sent you over the years. Emily was closely followed by Kim, and then Rachel, who you had spoken to on the phone almost everyday since you had planned to return home.

“Y/N! We are all SO excited to see you! Paul and I have so many plans for us!” Rachel jumped with joy, excited to spend time with her new “sister”.

“So where is my brother? I was expecting him outside waiting considering the amount he has been bothering me with questions about my arrival this week” Rachel looks over at Emily before saying; “he’s out doing some errands with Embry and Sam, they will be back soon, let’s get you settled!”

They gesture for Jared to help with your bags, and he picks them up with ease before leading the way to the guest room.

“This is going to be so hard keeping everything from Y/N if she is staying here, it’s going to be right under her nose. The boys aren’t subtle at all.” Emily whispers to Rachel.

“I know but that’s why we are in charge of keeping her busy! At least until Paul’s house is ready, then it’ll be easier.” Rachel replies as she starts walking towards the guest room, not realising that you had hung back to ask Emily a question away from Jared, unintentionally hearing their conversation.

~~~

An hour later you are in the kitchen at Emily’s dining table, bonding with the girls over your love of cooking, discussing your favourite bands. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what you had overheard. What were they keeping from you?

At that moment, Paul appeared at the door, an enormous smile on his face.

“Y/N!!!!!!!” He ran towards you, lifting you from your seat, into a bear hug. Oh how you had missed his hugs. Although you don’t remember them being this warm.

“I can’t even begin to explain how excited I am that you’re here, I have so many plans, we can go to the beach, go for a hike, I can show you the house, you can choose how to decorate your room..”

“Maybe give Y/N a chance to process what you’re saying before you keep going there Paul. I’m Sam, it’s so good to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you” Sam holds out his hand for you to shake, you choosing to ignore that and pulling him in for a hug instead. Woah, it’s not just Paul who feels like he’s burning up. They’re like heaters.

“Obviously I have to hug the man who’s helped my brother out so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done.” Sam smiles at this, before turning his attention to Emily, pulling her in for a hug and peppering her face with kisses.

“...thanks for running off Paul, Sam can you please explain to this idiot that just because he’s one of the fastest wolves in the pack doesn’t mean he needs to run at full speed all the time?!...oh...erm...” everyone’s heads turn to face the two new people who have appeared at the door, seemingly unaware of your presence until it was too late.

Paul’s face turns red with anger, you recognise this quickly from the stories he had told you over the years. Rachel is quickly to his side, arms around his waist, forcing his eyes to her own, speaking to him softly and calming him down.

You look again to the two men still standing in the doorway.

“Erm...hi. I’m Quil, and this idiot is Embry. Sorry, we forgot you were coming today Y/N, please ignore Embry, we have a running joke with Emily calling us all wolves because we act like a pack and we eat her out of house and home”. He laughs unnaturally at this, glancing at the others who join in, catching on that this should be funny.

You smile tightly at him, something is definitely up here. Then you turn your attention to the guy you now know to be Embry. You vaguely remember Embry and Quil from school, friends of Jacob Black’s, you were in the same year but not friends, but you don’t remember him looking like this. Why are all of Paul’s friends so muscly and tall? You definitely didn’t remember Embry being this handsome, he definitely would have stood out more. It’s like Sam has a type for his friends, another thing to add to your list of suspicions, as well as this bizarre reference to wolves. What is going on?

You realise that Embry is staring at you, his eyes are unfocused and he looks like he has completely zoned out. You cough slightly, drawing him out of his trance, attention back to you. His eyes are soft and warm, his face breaks out into a huge smile as he reaches out his hand.

“Hi, it’s so good to see you again Y/N, we’ve heard so much about your time away, erm, I’m Embry.”

You take his hand in yours, he’s so warm, why are they all so warm?

“I remember you Embry. You, Jake and Quil were like the three musketeers, always together!”

Embry smiles at the fact you remember him, and nods his head at your statement.

“We still are, don’t know what I would do without them!”

A growl sounds out from across the room, a quick cough coming from Sam stops the growl suddenly. You turn to see Paul, still with Rachel wrapped around his waist trying to calm him, shooting daggers at Embry.

“Oh this is great! I am SO looking forward to you getting out of this one Embry!” Jared laughs and claps Embry on the back.

“Paul, Embry, outside now” Sam states sternly, the two men quickly following him out of the house. You follow them with your eyes until they disappear into the tree line.

Everyone looks awkwardly at each other, before Emily suggests you help her with dinner. You agree, nodding, hoping that someone at some point will explain to you what the hell is going on.

~~~

The guys finally return an hour later, both Paul and Embry smiling as they playfully push each other walking back towards the house.

“Paul’s let him off far too lightly. I wanted Embry to at least come back with some bites...” Jared stops as Kim nudges him in the ribs.

“Can we speak to you outside Y/N?” Paul says, giving you a look and motioning outside.

You follow him out, and they both walk a bit away from the house towards the open space behind them.

~~~

You now find yourself standing next to Embry, a giant grey wolf standing in front of you.

Apparently, they really are all wolves, and you vaguely remember stories like this when you lived in La Push when you were younger. You just assumed they were nonsense, just silly stories to keep people in line with the threat of wolves and cold ones.

But they were all true. So this is what everyone was keeping from you? But, if they were going to tell you anyway, why was this all a big secret?

You turn to Embry, to see him watching your face carefully. His cheeks flush when he realises he has been staring again.

“So, this is why everyone has been acting strange around me all day?” Paul’s wolf nods and Embry speaks up.

“Yes. We weren’t allowed to say anything about it, so it had to be a secret. But...something changed that means we can now tell you.” He looks embarrassed again, and Paul huffs like he is unhappy about what has been said.

Embry flashes him a look, and Paul stalks away back to the tree line he emerged from minutes earlier.

“Can we sit? I feel like we should be sitting for this.”

You nod, still suspicious and then you both make your way to a small bench close to the house.

“So...one of the perks, I suppose, of our wolves is that we imprint. Erm...and imprinting is basically our way of finding our soul mate. It’s like a pull, we don’t want to be away from them but ultimately, we just want them to be happy. ...It’s not always romantic soul mates, it can just be a friendship...whatever the imprint wants from us basically” he shuffles in his seat, glancing at the floor, scuffing his foot in the dirt.

“Ok...so that’s what Paul and Rachel are, imprints, that’s why she was able to calm him?”

Embry nods.

“And Jared and Kim, Sam and Emily? They’re imprints too?”

Embry nods again.

“So...why are you telling me this? What has changed for me to now know your secret?”

Embry’s face flushes at this question. He was hoping you would have caught on and he wouldn’t need to actually tell you.

“Y/N...” Embry looks up, looking deeply into your eyes, willing you to understand.

“Oh...” you whispered, he was saying that you were his imprint. You thought about this carefully. Embry. “You’re saying that I’m your imprint?”

Embry nods a final time. Hesitant about your reaction.

“But we can be whatever you want us to be, it doesn’t need to be anything else.” He looks away again, hoping that you want what he wants, but not wanting to push you into something you aren’t comfortable with.

You can admit to yourself that you do feel a pull towards him, more than just a friendship you think.

“Erm...maybe we take it slow? But, I think...I want...”

You look up at him, his eyes full of love and something clicks inside you. You lean forward, closing the space between you. He looks shocked but he closes the space again until your lips are inches apart. He waits for you to take the final move.

Your lips touch briefly, and your body tingles at the touch, a shiver running through you as you move apart and the contact is lost. Wow.

“I definitely want to be more than friends Embry.” You whisper to him, leaning your forehead against his, your lips still close.

“I am going to make you the happiest girl in the entire world Y/N Lahote.” You smile and kiss him again.

I could get used to this, you thought.

It’s so good to be home.

A/N: so this wasn’t as short as I thought haha. Got caught up!

Taglist:

@volturidoll13 @clearwater-hoe @like-rain-or-confetti @teampaul @fatiguing-thoughts @wallwriterstuff

[fictionfunshop]

Art Lessons

** Sorry not sorry

UPDATE - woke up to over 30 like for this thanks everyone 😍 drop me a message if you have a dirty Matthew/Reid request! **

I took in all the colours in front of me, slashes of black with hints of green and peeking specks of yellow. Something was soothing about standing in front of it, my eyes darting around the canvas, trying to see all the colours and shapes, hoping to memorise every stroke. Life at a marketing agency kept me busy, but I loved to explore the city I called home for the last three years. One weekend you could be in Central Park on the Loeb enjoying a champagne brunch, the next you could be enjoying some hip restaurant in the West Village on your books New York has opened your mind since you first landed so much that nothing phases you anymore, and you thank her for it every morning you wake up and stare out your window to the river.

This Saturday was a relaxing one; I had already treated myself to my favourite croissant from a local French bakery for breakfast, browsed a book-store I always pass on the way to the office but never get the chance to visit, before you headed into the gallery to feed your eyes on Picassos and Monets. You were aware he was standing next to you, his body heat radiating from him.

"Did you know that this is one of the last pieces Pollock painted?" Even though his voice was in a low rasp, it broke the quiet tension of the gallery space.

You glanced over at him, noticing him for the first time. A bold patterned blue shirt made the light tan of his arms and chest pop; his slim jeans hugged his lanky frame perfectly. His chestnut hair was messy; the attempt to tuck strands behind his ear had been futile. His eyes were like conkers, shiny and holding some childlike innocence behind them.

"I did – did you know that he was in a car with his mistress when he died?" you whisper back. He grinned at your bold reply.

"I did not, but I'll remember it to impress the next time I'm at a gallery."

You fully turn to face him now, "do you usually go to art galleries and scare people with facts?"

"I'm trying not to make it into a habit", he chuckles, "you were standing here for a very long time."

It's now you notice his height, the top of your head barely grazing his shoulder. "It's a big canvas; every time I look at it, I see other colours I haven't picked up on before or a shape I want to decipher."

"I'm Matthew, by the way," he extends his hand out to me

"I'm Mia," you capture him in yours, gazing into his eyes. "I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

"I live in L.A, originally from Vegas," He starts walking to the next frame, and you follow ", and you're not from New York either."

"Nope, I moved here a few years ago. I lived in Chicago my whole life."

We stop and look at the painting in front of us, trading whatever information we know and more prodding questions. I had found out; surprisingly, he was ten years older than me, an avid reader and a painter himself just like Pollock. After the final frame, he asked you to join him for coffee around the corner to trade more art secrets you accepted.

"So what brings you to New York?"

"Visiting some friends and I have a few work meetings", he replies, taking a sip of his cortado. "what brought you to New York?"

"I'm a client Director for a marketing agency here. I worked at their Chicago office for a few years before I got this promotion. What do you do?"

The more you took in his features, he looked familiar.

"I do a bit of everything; I direct, I write a bit, I act here and there…"

"Anything I might have seen?" you were intrigued; you figured he must be successful if he has coastal meetings on his career. That and you noticed a woman in the corner of the café staring at him since he slumped into the wooden chair when you arrived.

"I'm in the show Criminal Minds? I've directed a few episodes too."

"That's cool. Are you here for the show or something else?" You hoped your reply came off breezy, but inside, your heart was hammering. It's not often you meet successful, handsome actors let alone spend hours with them in a gallery and now sharing a muffin and some coffee.

"I'm working on a book right now, so I've to meet the publishers. I figured while I was here, I would visit some friends and galleries, maybe meet a beautiful woman to talk to."

He says the last line with no shame, staring into your blue eyes and relaxing into the chair. While you never thought you were ugly, the line still made your cheeks warm.

"Thank you; it's not every day for me that I get famous actors flirting with me." Building since you first traded facts, the tension is now undeniable and hanging thick; you can see his eyes dart from your lips back to your eyes.

"If you've no other plans today, I have a few art books at mine you can have a look at?" you take the last gulp of your coffee. He nods his head, knocking back the last of his. He throws down some cash on the table and stumbles out of his chair, following you outside. You hail down a passing yellow taxi and jump in. You give your address to the driver before you turn your head, him sitting so close to you now you pick up his light cologne smell. His hand grips the back of your head and smashes into your lips. After a few hard kisses, you let a low moan escape when his tongue touches yours for the first time. Your hand finds his chest, your fingers teasing his exposed skin, which lets out the guttural groan. From him as he moves his hands from your neck to your waist, practically forcing you to sit on his lap. The taxi jolts to a stop, forcing you both to untangle. You hand the driver a wad of notes before you hop out, slightly embarrassed that he had seen that display between you both. He jumps out the other side, follows you inside your building and up the 4th floor to your apartment. Behind closed doors again, he pinned you against the wooden frame, his fingers tangling in your hair before drawing his thumb across your full bottom lip. His eyes are practically black now, and his hair an even bigger mess than before; you twist a finger around an escaped curl on the nape of his neck.

"You are so fucking gorgeous." He presses his lips against yours with the same neediness as in the taxi.

His hands can't stay in one place, moving from your cupping your ass and hips to moving up your ribcage to your heaving chest. Your nimble fingers make work on the buttons of his shirt before he shrugs it off your shoulders.

"Turn around." He growls, and you comply, your centre now throbbing. He finds the small zipper of your dress and pulls it down. His hand snakes under the material while the other slides the thin straps from your shoulders and lets the material now pool at your feet. You press your back into his chest, his fingers now pinching your nipples, biting your lip to stops the moans from escaping. His lips find your bare shoulder, sponging kisses up to your neck where he nips at the flesh. You barely have your clothes off, but Matthew already has all your weak spots mapped out; maybe there is some truth in older men being better lovers that your friends tried to explain once. You break away and guide him to your bedroom, pushing him onto the bed gently where he props himself up on his elbows. You slide out of your sandals before kneeling between his legs. He sits up straight, dipping his head to meet yours in a kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, waiting for your next move. You sponge kisses down his chest, nipping at his nipples, earning a groan from him while your hands loosen his belt and jeans. He helps slide them down his legs, and you untie his converse and throw them across the room.

"Do you have odd socks on?" your eyes widen in shock and add a playful air to the sexual tension.

"Good luck charm", he smirks back. You go back to teasing him, placing quick kisses across the band of his boxers before you make small work of them, adding to his pile of clothes now in the corner. You grip his erection in your hand, and you can feel how painfully hard he is, the tip already leaking with pre-cum before you get to work. You take long licks from the base, circling the top before you cover it with your lips and let it slide down your throat. Your hand jerks the bottom you can't cover.

"Fuck…" He mumbles, his fingers tangling in your hair and guiding the pace. You moan in response as you take him further in your mouth, inch by inch. Soon, you feel him hit the back of your throat, and his mumbles have turned into full-on moans, bouncing against the four walls. You know he's close, his cock is twitching in your mouth, and you can feel his grip in your hair tighten.

"So close, feels too good." You look up at him and set your eyes on him, his chest now glistening with sweat, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip, trying to contain his moans.

You keep his eye contact as you watch him come, some swear words tumbling out of his mouth. You swallow every last drop of him before he pulls you by the arm to join him in your bed. He kisses you again as he pushes you down on your mattress and positions himself between your thighs. His hands cradle your hips as he slides your underwear down your legs and tosses them to the side. He sits up and places chaste kisses on your thighs before he settles himself between your legs. Your head cranes back in the pillow as your hand grips the sheets at the first touch from his tongue, flicking lightly against your clit. He then sucks it between his lips as your hips lift off the bed; he holds them down as you grind into his face, now desperate for release. One of your hands played with your nipples when his fingers joined in, moaning his name so loudly you were sure you'd have a noise complaint tomorrow. Your hand moves to his hair as you can feel yourself tighten around his fingers before you feel yourself come, screaming his name one last time. He emerges, licking his lips before climbing back up and kissing you, letting you taste yourself. His kisses now were slow and deep, a shocking comparison to earlier but one you welcomed while you recovered.

"Do you have protection?" He rasped in your ear. You pulled out your top drawer on your nightstand and handed him the small silver packet, now thanking yourself that you kept stock. He made light work of putting it on before he settled back in between your legs, sliding the tip down your slit before he guides himself into you, not breaking eye contact. He pulls his hips back and slams into you, your nails finding his back and digging in. He set a quick pace, the sound of your hips crashing into each other filling the air. His lips find your chest, and he sinks his teeth into your nipples once again, earning a yelp from you. He notices the grip your nails have on his back release a little, so he uses this chance to pin them over your head.

"You still feel so tight around me."

"Hmmm…Matthew…so close" I feel my hands loosen their grip, letting me rub my clit as he continues to pound into me, his strokes now sloppy telling you he was near too. You were the first to go over the edge, tears coming from your eyes as you clenched around him a few strokes later, and some dirty encouragement he followed. He collapses on top of you for a few moments afterwards, steadying his breathing before he peels himself off you and cleans himself up. You could already feel yourself ache all over, but you needed him again already.

"So that was unexpected," he laughs.

"Yeah, I could still show you the art books if you want?"

He shakes his head. "I thought you could give me your phone number, and we go for dinner tomorrow?"

You nod you're head. You couldn't wait.

[libraryofloveletters]

Dad & Uncle Luke vs The Troublesome 5

Matt Simmons/Luke Alvez 

for @cmpocsource​‘s cmcocaw2 // day 2 (june 22): favourite platonic ship 

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: this is my first cm piece in a while so do forgive me if it’s a bit shitty :) also I didn’t proof read so go with it :) 

---

Friday

Kristy headed up to see her grandparents on Thursday afternoon, promising to be back on Saturday, which meant Matt was at home taking care of the kids. He loved when he got to spend time with them because he felt like he missed so much of their lives due to work.

He was used to 4 kids but now that Rose was born, he had his hands full. The two boys, Jake and David were troublemakers. They were never quiet and if they were, you knew something was up. LIly and Chloe loved to colour and draw - on anything they see, including the walls. Rose was only a few months old and she didn’t cause much trouble unless she decided to cry - she had a strong set of lungs.

It was only a little past 6pm when Matt called in reinforcement.

“Hello ?” his voice rang through the phone as Matt rocked Rose back and forth.

“Hey man, I know it’s our weekend off but I was wondering if you’d be able to come over and help me?”

“Is everything okay?” Luke asks him, voice filled with concern.

“I- technically yes. Kristy went up to see her grandparents for the weekend and I've got all of the kids here with me and I underestimated how much work this was gonna be” Matt sighs, setting Rose down gently in the crib.

Luke laughs, already tossing some clothes into a duffle bag. “I’ll be there soon. Do you need me to bring anything ?”

“No, I'm good. Thank you”

They had each other’s backs in the field, surely Luke would have his back now. How hard could it be for 2 grown men to take care of 5 children ? 

Can’t be that hard.

It wasn’t long before Luke showed up at his doorstep, duffle bag over one shoulder and box of pizza in the other hand. 

“I wasn’t sure if you had made dinner yet” Luke smiled at his friend when he opened the door.

“You’re a heaven sent” Matt chuckled, stepping aside and letting Luke come in. “I really appreciate you spending your weekend here. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”

“No worries man, really didn’t” He laughs, setting the box on the table. “Where’d you leave Roxy ?” Matt goes to get the plates from the cupboard after calling for the kids.

“Penelope was more than happy to watch her. She also said to tell you that she sends her love” he smiles.

David and Jake were the first two into the kitchen. “Uncle Luke!” they shouted together, tackling him in a hug. The 2 boys were on the floor on top of Luke who was laughing and hugging them.

“Hey guys, I brought pizza.” The boys perked up at the mention of pizza, the way to a boy’s heart really was through their stomach. The twins came running in next, clothes covered in marker and crayon.

“Dinner ?” Lily looked at her dad, he lifted her up onto a chair and then repeated the action with Chloe.

The kids were all seated and eating, Matt and Luke sat on opposite ends on the table. David and Jake were telling them about the fire drill they had at school.

“So we got to go in the truck and press the sirens” David says between chews, Jake nods. “Yeah! And- and we tried to roll the hose and it was so heavy dad!”

Rose begins crying just as Matt goes to answer the boys. He lets out a deep sigh and goes to get up but Luke beats him to it. “I’ve got her, finish eating” he tells him, patting his shoulder as he passes by him and heads up the stairs to her nursery.

Rose was still in her swaddle, crying her lungs out. Luke picked her up carefully and set her on the changing table before undoing her swaddle. He watched as she stretched, her little arms raising above her head.

“Hi mama, how was your nap?” he cooed, smiling at Rose as he picked her back up. He returned downstairs with her in his arms, watching as the kids ran out the back door and into the yard.

“Half an hour! Then I want all of you inside and getting ready for bed!” Matt shouted, propping the door open. Matt turned to see Luke behind him, “hi my love” his hand reached out and rubbed her back softly.

She made a little sound before Luke sat on the couch with her. Matt steps outside when Jake calls him to help set up the soccer net they had. Matt then gets roped into playing with them and next thing you know, it’s 9pm and the 5 of them are running inside as the rain comes down.

“Alright, go wash up and change. I’ll be up to tuck you in” he smiles at the kids as they make their way up the stairs.

It was unusually quiet in the living room, an odd occurrence in the Simmons’ house in general. Matt was just about to go check on Luke and Rose when his phone chimes.

From Kristy: Hey babe, how’s everything going ?

To Kristy: Fine for now, called in reinforcements

From Kristy: Who’d want to get roped into helping you watch the kids for the weekend ?

Matt was texting her back as he made his way over to see Luke passed out flat on the couch with Rose who’s also asleep against his chest. He smiles to himself and snaps a photo for Kristy.

To Kristy: *1 Image Attachment* He did

From Kristy: Oh my god adorable

From Kristy: Give the kids my love, I love you.

To Kristy: I love you too

Matt left Luke on the couch with Rose, heading up to tuck the 4 kids into bed.

Saturday

Saturdays were always busy in the Simmons house. Both Jake and David had soccer practice at 10am while Lily and Chloe had to be at dance class at 10:30.

Matt looked at the schedule Kristy had left on the fridge in despair and fear. “Okay, how am I gonna do this?” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Anything I can do ?” Luke’s voice startled him for a second. Of course Matt knew he was in the house but he didn’t think he would be up already.

“I don’t know how Kristy does it,” Matt admits, facing his friend. Luke gave him a smile while pouring himself a cup of coffee. “What’s on the schedule for today ?”

“Jake and David have soccer at 10 and the girls have dance class at 10:30.. on the opposite ends of town” he sighs, glancing back at the schedule.

“I have my car, you know. I could take the girls if you want ?” Luke offered, Matt paused- Luke did come over to help him but he felt bad to ask him to do that.

“Are you sure ?” “Yeah man, it’s no problem”

The sound of footsteps filled the house moments later, the 4 kids coming down the stairs and began asking what was for breakfast. Matt and Luke got them settled in for breakfast, explaining to them what the plan for the day is.

Matt headed up to get Rose changed and ready for the day seeing that she can’t do it herself.

“I’m taking the girls to dance class and your dad is taking you two to soccer practice” Luke explains as the two boys help him clear the table. Jake and David were bickering about who could kick the ball from one end of the field into the goal.

“Go grab your gear, we’re leaving in a few.” Matt smiles, stepping back into the kitchen. “See if your sisters are ready too!” he shouted after the running boys.

Within a few minutes, everyone was out the door. Lily and Chloe strapped into their seats, Matt giving them a quick kiss to the cheek each before letting them go off with Luke. Jake, David and Rose were with him, on their way to soccer practice.

---

The day went by pretty quickly. From soccer practices to dance class and then home to shower and head back out because Matt had promised to take them to the park. By the time they finally got home from the park, the kids were coming down from a sugar high due to the ice cream and junk food Luke had bribed them with while Matt wasn’t looking.

They had stopped for something to eat mid way through their park trip, meaning that none of them were hungry except for Rose who needed a bath and a bottle before bed.

“Can we watch a movie?” Jake asked his father, and his siblings joined him. The 4 of them looking up at their father, their best puppy dog eyes and pouts in their little faces.

Matt chuckled, smiling at his kids, “what would mom say if you tried that ?” a chorus of “yes” and “yeah” filling the house. Matt paused, he knew Kristy would send them up to get ready for bed but he was the cool parent or so he thought. He felt like he should say yes just because he didn’t spend as much time as he wanted to with them.

“Fine but only one movie. Go pick while I get Rose ready for bed. If you need help with popcorn, ask Luke”

“Uncle Luke!” Lily and Chloe shout, running towards the kitchen as the boys go in the other direction towards the couch.

When Matt returns, the house is quiet. He swears he wasn’t up there that long. “Guys?” he calls, making the way through the house. Luke whispers for him to be quiet as he steps into the living room.

The kids are all passed out on the blanket fort they made on the floor. Matt smiles, letting out a sigh as he sinks into the couch next to Luke. “How long have they been out ?”

“15- maybe 20 minutes” Luke hums, scrolling through his phone. “Who are you so into texting right now ?” Matt asks him.

Luke glances up at Matt over his phone, a slight red tint on his cheeks. “Oh, um- it’s just- it’s Garcia”

Matt hums, “Huh, how are things with Roxy ?”

“Roxy ?” Luke questions, mind obviously blank for a moment.

“Your dog?”

“Oh! She’s fine” he trails off, like he wasn’t sure about his answer.  

Matt chuckles, smiling at his love struck friend. It has been a few weeks since Penelope left the BAU and everyone had heard about their date, so it was only itne until they officially became a couple. Matt knew Luke and Penelope were mostly definitely not talking about Roxy based on that blush on his cheek.

“Your wife is superwoman by the way” Luke mumbels, eyes still on his phone.

“Hm ?”

“Taking care of 5 kids while working and being by herself for most of the time ?” Luke drops the phone on his lap. “She’s superwoman.”  

Matt smiles, “yeah, she is.”

“Glad you both think so” a voice says behind them. Both men jump,their reflexes kicking in as they stand and turn towards the voice. Kristy is standing behind the couch, her hands up playfully.

“Didn’t mean to scare you two” she smiles, making her way over to give Matt a hug. “Thank you for helping him,” Kristy smiles at Luke, “you’re more than welcome to spend the night if you’d like but we have it covered if you want to go.”

“I think he’s got somewhere to be” Matt pipes up, Luke’s brows furrowed looking back at Matt. “I do ?” he questions.

“I believe there’s a blonde technical analyst waiting for you somewhere.”

“You know ?” Luke smiles, the amusement evident on his face.

“I figured it out first,'' Kristy says proudly. Matt laughs softly, “it’s true, she did”

Luke smiles at the couple, saying goodnight to them before picking up his bag. Matt walks in outside to his car, leaving Kristy inside with the kids.

“Tell the kids I said goodbye, okay ? i’ll come by another say and hangout with them or if you and Kristy need a night, I’m more than happy to take them”

“Think you can handle all 5 of them ?” Matt’s brow raises, his arms folded across his chest.

“I’ll probably get some help from a blonde technical analyst.” Luke laughs.

--- 

taglist: @tenemily​ @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @fanofalltheficsx @luke-alvez @iconicc @kidmulaney @pumpkin-stars @captainxholmes @multixfandomwriter @sluttytears @thelukealvez @scandinavian-punk @taralewiz @morcias @shotarosleftpinky @mrs-dr-reid @hqtchner @averyhotchner @willlemonheadsupremacy @mggsprettygirl @simxican 

[qslovebot]

Trivial Diffusion: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and the reader have been pretending to be rivals for quite some time, jokingly taking shots at each other and trying to win games against each other to prove higher intelligence. One day, Spencer suggests they play something else and little do they know that game turns into a whole lot more play.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning/Includes: playful hatred, friendly-fire rivalry, kissing, protected sex (hardly written), tension to smut to fluff.

A/N: lightly based on The Name of The Game, by ABBA

“You know what I think, Dr.Reid, is that secretly, deep, deep down in the skinny soul that fills your skinny body... you like me.” You teased, setting down your cards. That was it, the game was over, you had won.

Spencer Reid shook his head, “I would say we’re acquainted and not friends. Coworkers at worst.” He set down his cards to show you he had nearly nothing. Chances, chances, chances. “Derek, was she cheating? I think she was cheating.”

Derek Morgan was entirely asleep in his seat. It was just after the BAU had been sent on another big case and everyone had been working on it from the BAU until you all could get the jet. It was nearing nine o’clock but nearly everyone on the jet was sleeping from a day of overworking at home. All but you and ye of little faith. Hotch confirmed that the team didn’t start interacting with the police until tomorrow so that everyone could crash at the hotel before it all actually began, so it was a matter of time before everyone woke again.

Spencer was good at his games, knew probability well and could probably win against the averagely smart man, but not you. He could never beat you at cards and that nearly killed him, so every time you flew back to or from Quantico, he asked to play, hoping he would somehow win. This had been going on for months along with the little jokes and friendly fire you had with him. As much as you pretended to hate each other, you were both pretty transparent to the rest of the team.

“Sorry that I’m not your favourite member of the team,” you smiled at him playfully and tossed him the reorganized deck. He caught it with a small smile. “If you want, we can play something else and I’ll let you win.”

He shook his head and cracked his knuckles. “Battle of wits. Random trivia. I want to see you flail and drown.”

“Violent, Doc.” You raised your eyebrows at him. He had confidence in something just as risky- his mistake. There wasn't time, though. “We land in ten, though, so on the way home from this case if you’re up for it.”

“Are you too tired or are you afraid to lose?”

“Neither,” you sighed, cracking your knuckles. “Fine, you’re on.”

----

At the hotel, everyone was groaning and grumbling and ready to crash for the night. You guessed working from the BAU for two and a half days before getting to the case was too much for them, but with your cup of sugar with a little coffee, you were wide awake.

The second Hotch dolled out the keys, you grabbed Emily who was moving like a zombie and pulled her to her designated room. You were all lucky enough to get your own rooms on this case so once you dropped her and her bags off there then found your own room next to hers.

The first thing you did was pull yourself out of your office clothes and into your pyjamas. You slipped on long, flowy, pale blue, loose-fabric pants that felt cool against your skin as well as sat on your hips paired with a simple white tank top. You kept your bra on just to keep a little decency and let your hair fall down around your shoulders, brushing it through a little.

You were prepared to win against Spencer. That was it, flat out. You would win. You both were the geniuses of the team and he had been waiting for a moment to prove he was better than you in some way, but that would be his downfall. He wanted to win so desperately and you wouldn't let that happen.

It had been months of this snarky attitude from him that you know was only in play. Maybe this would make him give up when you won. You slipped out of your room and up to the door of the room you saw Spencer walk into. The knock you gave was quiet enough not to disturb anyone but him and it only took him a moment to answer, his lips pursed straight.

"Come in," he said, gesturing. You saw his eyes flicker over what you were wearing as he had probably never seen you so entirely casual. You narrowed your eyebrows at him as you slipped into his room.

The room was identical to yours but smelled a little different. "I love what you've done with the place, wow, Dr.Reid..." You joked, sitting on the edge of his bed. He shut the door slowly, pressing his back to it with that crooked smile of his. "So are you ready to lose?"

"I-I don't believe I am," he said, hands behind his back. Something was off... he didn't stutter when he was in that teasing pretend hatred. Never- it was always as if that was his comfort in trying to beat you. "Let's begin."

You raised your eyebrows and slid onto the floor at the edge of the bed and pat the spot in front of you against the wall. He didn't protest, in fact, he sat right down with his laptop.

"What's this?" You asked.

"This is Garcia who searched up trivia questions and will be asking us. To answer, we hit this button in front of us. If the answer is wrong, it goes to the other person. Got it?" Spencer set the computer up.

"Yeah..." you nodded, setting your eyes on Garcia. "Hey, Penelope!"

"If it isn't my favourite (Y/N)!" She exclaimed, blowing kisses through the screen. "I must admit I'm a little scared. Spencer here called me and he sounds like he's about to... murder you."

You looked up at Spencer through your eyelashes and back down at Penelope. "He's the one about to be murdered, Pen. Both of you, brace yourselves. I'm ready."

"And now I am even more scared, thank you for that Elton John and Madonna..." Penelope clicked through her computer.

Spencer looked at you now with confusion. For a genius, he wasn't very well-educated in celebrity culture. "This is why you're going down, Reid." You laughed.

His voice raised in pitch, "Because my-my-my name isn't Elton John and I don't understand the reference?" Oh, he was so going to lose.

Spencer set the button out. Convenient that he had them... maybe he'd been planning for this longer than you'd thought. Penelope on the screen sat to the right of you both and she had all her questions lined up. She did a little drumroll, then began.

"Name the number that is three more than one-fifth of one-tenth of one-half of 5,000, go!"

It took you a second but you and Spencer hit the button at the same time. "53!" You said in unison.

"Fuck!" You laughed, rubbing your eye.

There was a slight clicking noise on Garcia's end and you watched her face go from confusion to wide-eyed wonder. "You both are too smart for your own good-"

"Ne-Next question, please," Spencer said, his face in his hands. If the whole thing was like this, how would either one of you win?

More questions passed, some were ties, some were won by Spencer and some by you, but at the end of Penelope's list.. you had tied and it was 11:30pm. With each question, you felt the tension in the room worsen. Each loss, each win, your stomach had butterflies. Who was going to win this? You and Spencer, after an hour and a half of losses, wins, and ties and Garcia getting more scared by the second, you tied.

Then of course there were the tiebreakers which you both tied on. After five tiebreakers, Garcia was done. "Congrats, you're both smart as hell! I am tired, so I'll let you little birdies wrestle it out, just don't blame the injuries on me."

"Garcia, no-" Spencer protested, needing to win.

Penelope waved goodbye and Spencer reached for the laptop, but he couldn't stop her. "Garcia, out!" She ended the video call, leaving Spencer and you alone.

Well, nobody won now. Nobody lost either. Spencer, you could see he was done, just done. All the talk of winning and he really got so nervous he stuttered around you. You grinned, tilting your head against his bed and just laughing. Nobody won!

For some reason, the tension in the room was still thick. You noticed it when you finally stopped laughing at the circumstances when you looked at Spencer with his head in his hands. He wasn't really upset, he was just confused as to how it came to a draw with you like this.

"Was it my tits that threw off your game, Reid?" You teased, standing up and going to the coffee-maker in the corner of his room. "Is it okay if I have the Earl Grey here?"

"Yeah, that's- that's fine," he nodded, swallowing hard. His pretty face was still contorted into confusion. You hopped up on the counter and made the tea with the teabags complimentary to the hotel. "Did you cheat?"

"Did I what?" You laughed again, leaning over so your forearms resting on your thighs. "You think I have tricks up my sleeve, Reid, I'm not even wearing sleeves."

"My IQ tells me you should have lost."

"You and your noble IQ," you blew on your tea. "Want some tea?"

He rubbed his temples and stood up, walking over tiredly. You hadn't noticed what he was wearing at all, you'd been too focused on the trivia. He was wearing flannel pyjama pants and a large sweater. It was the most casual you'd seen him before. "Orange Pekoe, please."

"Got it," you turned and made him a cup of tea with the machine. You'd never really hung out with Spencer before away from work. On the jets, you were always still surrounded by coworkers. Even though you were alone with him earlier, Garcia's presence was there. Now it was just you, Spencer, and the tension that wouldn't seem to lift. It was unexplainable- how it was still there. What was it really and why wouldn't it thin out? "Here you go."

Through handing him the tea, your hands touched and you pretended to be disgusted by it for a laugh, but he just exhaled sharply. Spencer sat on the edge of his bed facing you on the counter, sweater sleeves over his hands that held the mug, curls falling over his face.

Why was he always looking like he was solving math questions in his head? When he drank his tea, you drank yours. Why were you even still in his room at all... he hardly liked you, he just wanted to win and now that neither of you had, you were still here? It was a question for both you and him, but would this question come to a draw as well?

"I don't think I've mentioned how much I like your hair, Reid." You said out of the blue. "I think I've been too focused on kicking your ass in every way possible to properly compliment you."

"You've never kicked my ass physically, so you can't say in every possible way if you-"

"I was trying to compliment you but if you want me to actually get up and kick you in the ass, I will." You threatened playfully. Spencer grinned down at his tea. "I just think you have nice hair and I am very jealous it's not mine." You opened and shut your fingers like a pair of scissors.

Spencer straightened himself out and shook his hair out of his face. "I- thank you?"

You nodded, "You're welcome."

No more words were said until you both finished your tea. Why were you still here? Why didn't he ask you to go and why did he keep looking at you with thoughts in his eyes and why the hell did the tension keep building? What was it leading to?

Spencer eventually stood up and placed his mug in the sink next to yours, standing next to where you sat on the counter. You looked at him through a strand of your hair that had fallen in your face and you moved it to better understand. He mirrored you for a second, pushing his hair behind his ear as well before asking that one, fatal question. The one question he gave, knowing that if you lost, he had won and if you answered correctly, you had won. It was the unofficial, official ending to the game, but at a risk.

"In the 1830s, what scientifically gifted woman led to the coining of the term 'scientist,' because 'man of science' didn’t apply?" He asked, his eyes narrowing in. This was it... damn it, your brain was scrambled... as to why? Unexplainable.

"Mary..." you said, grasping at something you knew but it was clouded by something else you couldn't recognize. As if a clock was ticking, your heart was pounding. "Mary, her name was Mary..."

Spencer just stood there, right next to where you sat on the counter as you searched, racking every inch of your brain to find it. You couldn't give up or else he had won and you'd never hear the end of it and he wouldn't play cards with you and you wouldn't have an excuse to talk to him... wait, where did all those thoughts come from.

"Reid, I have it, I know it, I just-"

He looked at the watch on his wrist, his loose curls falling over his face again. Goddamnit, Spencer Reid... You only had seconds as Spencer counted down. Mary... Mary Smith... Mary So- Mary Somer... Mary Somerville.

"One, ze-"

"Mary Somerville!" You said, maybe a little too loudly. But you knew it was too late. Spencer had won. You sat there, looking at your hands for a moment while he stood there in what seemed like shock at his winning, but the odd tension still pressed, even with your loss. It seemed like Spencer felt it too because you looked up at each other at the exact same time and it was a silently-made mutual decision that led to both your lips and his crashing into the other person's.

It happened so quickly- you opened your knees to allow him closer, your hands on either side of his face, holding his jaw as you kissed him with the same power he kissed you. His hands on your waist and knee. So this was what the tension lead to, huh?

Kissing him from slightly above him gave you the advantage of kissing harder, which he easily allowed and returned. You slid your fingers back into his hair, the hair you had so awkwardly complimented. Of course, you understood yourself and your awkward comments about his hair because in reality, you meant 'please kiss me already'.

There was no noise other than the travelling of hands, short breaths, and lips on lips in the room and that sound was much better than the entire silence from the moment before. Hatred was never hatred, not even when it was mock hatred. It was always that pending feeling of hidden lust that shied behind mockery and mindset. And it was fucking hot.

He didn't protest when you broke the kiss to pull his sweater over his head. He didn't care when you gripped his shoulder and pulled his hair with the other hand. All this time you'd spend pretending to be rivals was being released into the air in the means of pheromones and you were all he really wanted then, there, now.

It was becoming messier by the second as you pulled your tank top over your head and tossed it aside like you did his sweater. His hands of course travelled upward to where they needed to be. You'd thought him inexperienced, but perhaps you were wrong.

"I fucking hate you," you mumbled against his lips and tugging his hair, a grin playing on your lips as he reached to untie the strings of his pants. He looked up for a moment, his eyes were half-lidded but determined.

"I hate y-you too," he managed the same grin and pulled you back into that same kiss he performed so vehemently. Oh, he was a mess. Spencer Reid would be the death of you. His long fingers moved delicately over your body, leaving goosebumps over your chest and the feeling of ice trails on your hot skin. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him trapped and close.

Your lips left his mouth, trailing down his cheek, then his jaw, below his jaw. His breath was sharp and your lips were teasing. He smelled good, too. If only you'd figured out things were supposed to be this way sooner...

Poor Doctor Reid's hands were so cold compared to your body. You let them explore as you continued to kiss and lightly bite his neck. It was your turn to ask the question of risk, "Do you want this, Reid?"

He nodded more than he needed to, kissing you properly again. "Yes." A solid, strict, and determined- yet lust-filled yes. It was signal enough. Kissing led to touching and more touching lead to breathing harder. You doubted Spencer Reid was a virgin at all with the way he knew exactly where to touch...

He didn't even bother taking you to the bed that was six feet away from the counter. He didn't care and neither did you and it took him a second to actually get going, but once he did, everything fell right into place. His touch was soft, but his hips rough. You were breathing hard as he went, doing everything perfectly with his perfect body and his perfect hair right back in his face. He looked like hell, but in the best possible way.

Spencer Reid was, in fact, the death of you. Everything was in haze- breathing, kissing, touches, thrusts, trying to be as quiet as you could but small whimpers slipped from your lips and occasionally noises from him. Your nails in his shoulder and on his back as he practically fell to pieces in front of you, coming undone the same way you did only seconds later. You had to physically cover your mouth to stay quiet.

The air became ten times hotter when he rested his head on your bare shoulder, not even bothering to pull out. He was there, you were there... you had just fucked the man who you had pretended was your enemy and god, was it good. You were surprised that this had happened at all, it was so unbelievably unguessed earlier. You just wanted to win and your loss came to a prize anyway.

He took a second to recover, then kissed your shoulder which was unexpected and oddly sweet. You thought it was rivalry sex to diffuse tension, but that wasn't how it felt to you anymore and... maybe not to him either. Spencer pulled out, discarding protection and cleaning himself up a little. No words were spoken now as he put his pyjama pants back on and you fixed yourself up too, slipping your legs into your loose pants and tank top back over your head.

You took a cup that was belonging to the hotel and filled it with water, then you slipped off the counter and handed it to Spencer. When he took it, he looked just like you probably had when he had kissed your shoulder. "Thank you." He said, blinking a few times. Were things awkward for him now? Was he expecting you to leave, now?

"I can go if you want me to, Spencer," you said, pointing back at the door. "If I've overstayed, I'm sorry."

"N-no-" he blurted, nearly spitting his water out. "No, you haven't overstayed, I like you here- I just... I don't know how good that was and my mind is kind of everywhere because it happened so quickly and it was all so-so-so unexpected and I... wow."

He ran a hand through his hair frantically, his fingers shaking a little. There were those butterflies again...

"Spencer, it was good. It was more than good, holy fuck." You assured him, stepping closer. He set down the cup of water. "You did so well, I can hardly-" Your shaking knee gave out at just the right time and he caught you by your hands before you hit the ground. "See?"

He was smiling that shy, crooked grin. Everything was ten times sweeter now and it seemed like maybe you didn't really need to pretend to hate him anymore. It's much easier to humiliate, degrade and just generally shit all over someone than it is to admit that you like them. But here you were, looking up at him.

"I told you, Dr.Reid, that somewhere deep down, you liked me."

"Coworkers at worst," he reminded you jokingly.

"You just fucked me nearly senseless, I don't think 'coworkers at worst' works on me anymore." You grinned, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ears. "Just kiss me again, Dr.Reid."

He didn't even hesitate to take your face in his hands, kissing you sweetly, a little different than earlier. This time he wasn't entirely frenzied by the rush and need to touch and grasp and this time, there was meaning... there was diffusion... and it was loving.

The only real issue was that tomorrow, both of you had to face a team full of profilers who would take greatly accurate guesses as to why you and Spencer suddenly got along.

Tags: @laurakirsten0502

Reblog if you liked, message to be on the taglist, reply with thoughts!

[teebarnes]

🌿 P1 | Uncle Bucky Babysits

Part 1 of the Little Rogers Series

| Next

Summary: Steve and Nat ask Bucky to babysit you while they're out. For Bucky, it's a disaster, for you, it was so much fun.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning(s): fluff, Bucky losing you, swearing, young reader (5ish years?).

A/N: Honestly I loved writing this, it has been in my writing logs since the start of the year lol. This is only part one of ???, let me know what you think hehe. Enjoy! (GIF is not mine). Please do not copy or repost my writing, sorry!

Any feedback, likes & reblogs etc are much appreciate 🥰

You were stuck in the closet trying to find your blanket; Bucky said it was in there after you asked him where it was.

Your parents, Nat and Steve, had asked Bucky to babysit you as they had a mission. Leaving your uncle Bucky in charge of you.

"Dad?" you ask for Steve, and Bucky chuckles, "Your dad isn't here y/n, they just left", you huff, knowing precisely what he was up to. "I'm going to tell Mumma and Dada you did this to me" you stomp around in a small circle before sitting on the floor, your eyes exploring the dimly lit closet. Bucky had stuck you in the closet by tricking you, so he didn't have to deal with you, one of his most ingenious plans.

However, little did Bucky know was that your uncle Tony taught you that most of the compounds closets have secret trap tunnels. Which, of course, you had found behind all the coats stuffed on racks. Jokes on Bucky, this closet, in particular, led right to your parent's room.

You closed the trap door behind you before crawling through as quiet as you could, so Bucky wouldn't be able to find you. With your demise, you knew he'd panic; it doesn't take much to panic your uncle, and you used it to your advantage. Opening the other side of the tunnel, you climbed through the other end before taking yourself to your parent's bed. Snuggling your small body under the sheets, passing the time as you cuddled your bear you had left in their room this morning.

A few hours later…

Nat and Steve walk into the compound, debriefing and changing into their regular clothes when Steve watches Bucky running past the doors in panic. Nat chuckles, knowing precisely what was going on. You are, in fact, your mother's daughter; it doesn't take two to realise you are mischievous.

"You got this, hon?" Nat looks to Steve, who nods, "Let's see what she has done now" he lightly laughed, "Go ahead, I'll be in soon" "Alright", Nat smiled before walking out down the hall to check on you and start their dinner. Steve followed down the hall to where Bucky was looking under the tables and behind the couches.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck, I've lost y/n. Oh sh-" Bucky's internal panic is stopped when a firm grip lands on his shoulder. "Hi, bud, what's up?" Steve smiles, greeting him. Bucky turns around to find his best friend standing right before him, acting clueless to his panic.

Meanwhile…

Nat walked down the hall, opening the door to her and Steve's room. She smiles upon immediately seeing a little lump under their duvet and the slow rise and fall of the sheets. Nat walks around the bed turning the heater on before kneeling beside you, caressing your rosy cheeks; you had fallen asleep snuggled under their sheets, snoring lightly. Cuddling the teddy your dad had given you, you were sound asleep. Nat smiled, watching her little one sleep; she gave a gentle kiss to the crown of your tiny head before making her way to take a shower.

Bucky taps his foot on the ground, wondering how he would tell his best friend that he had lost his kid after leaving her in the closet. "U-uh, Steve… I-" Bucky is cut off when Nat walks in with a fresh new pair of clothes. She looks at Steve, who is now looking at Bucky "sorry mate, what did you say?" Bucky looks at his friends who trusted him with their daughter. "S-sorry... I'm so sorry I lost y/n... she was looking for her blanket. I told her it was in the closet and-" he scratched the back of his head in apparent stress; Nat looked at Steve, giving him a look before the pair begin to laugh uncontrollably.

Bucky stares livid at the pair of them, "W-what the fuck is wrong with the both of you, I lost your fucking daughter, and you're standing here in front of me laughing", his eyes widen in more panic. Steve smiled, patting Bucky's back "come with me, bud" Bucky follows Steve to their room, where Nat follows closely behind just so she could see his reaction. Steve opens their door, getting the feel of the warm heated room and the sound of tiny soft snores coming from their bed. Bucky's relief drew from his deep breath as he saw you sleeping under the covers. Bucky gave a small smile in comfort before his smile fell into a glare turning to his friend. "I am never babysitting again", he sighs, walking off back to his room.

Steve watched from the door of their bedroom as Bucky toddled off into the distance. "You're still her favourite uncle", Steve chuckled "daym right I am!" he yelled, closing his bedroom door behind him. Nat smiles, hugging her partner from behind. "She is 100% our child", Steve whispered to Nat, who lightly laughs "undoubtedly", Nat walks back to the kitchen to make dinner for the pair of them while Steve went to take a shower.

You continued to sleep as you hugged onto your teddy bear. Steve had gotten changed after his shower, opening up the warm blanket beside you. He smiled as he looked at you "hello beautiful", he cooed, observing as you softly sleep. Gently picking you up along with your teddy, your dad carried you in his arms, your head rested in the nook of his neck. He kissed your cheek before walking out of their room. Nat smiles, seeing the pair of you come out from their room. She had two bowls of pasta in hand, on her tippy-toes, she kissed your cheek "night, love bug", she smiled before walking into their room.

Steve walked into the next room, which was yours, opening your door and heading in. He opened your blanket with his spare hand as he attempted to balance you on his chest. Set you into your bed, tucking you in, then kneeled down to caress your hair back from your face. Whispering lightly, "I am so lucky to be your dad", he smiled, kissing your forehead. He turned your night light on before walking out, closing the door behind him.

Hours later…

Nat and Steve had the T.V going as they fell asleep; you had woken up early in the morning looking around you were in your room. You sighed, rubbing your eyes, yawning, grabbing your teddy and blanket. Walking to open the door, you patter down to your mum and dad's room. Sneaking in, you lift yourself up onto their bed. There was always space in between your mum and dad, knowingly left just in case you came in while they were asleep. You snuggle yourself in the nook they made between themselves, pulling your blanket over you. A slight smile sets upon your face as your dad turns around to notice you, immediately drawing you close into his arms to cradle you like you were still his little baby. You nuzzle into his chest, making sure that your teddy had enough breathing space between the two of you. "Dada", you whisper, looking up to his face as his eyes still closed "mhm?" He smiles "night night", you whispered back, closing your eyes snuggling into his chest.

"Goodnight y/n/n".

[tartagilicious]

snezhnaya does not believe in broken hearts > childe

→ pov: there is no pov i’m in love with another fictional man. I’m a little rusty writing wise because of school, but someone said childe enemies to lovers and who i am i to say no to that 🥴 so, here’s his boss battle with a ✨twist✨

→ ib: this comic on twt, pls go support it i love it and cry whenever someone mentions it. also, like the comic, childe’s delusion form won’t have a mask just so it’s easier to write his expressions!

→ *there are a good amount of lines that are taken directly from his battle in the game, so beware of detailed spoilers!

You can trust him. But, don’t get too involved. The battle he pursues is dangerous; it’s not something a normal person can withstand.

Whether you realised it or not, every moment you had spent with him began to carve out a hole in your chest, bittersweetly wearing away every layer of protection you had unconsciously built up. It wasn’t a well-done job by any means; the edges it left were particularly jagged, but the softness Childe still managed to pull from them left you stunned every time it chose to peek its head out.

“Don’t be so on edge, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

It suddenly became a daily routine to expect him at some point, whether it entailed him coming upon you doing a commission in the middle of the mountains, or you crossing paths in Liyue while some type of street food balanced precariously in his grip.

Yet, what you failed to notice was that most times, he would take care to place another of the same delicacy into your hand, as if expecting to see you. Childe would meet you in the middle of the mountains not by chance, but rather by a sense of curious boredom, wherein your company was the only suitable way to pass the time.

Subsequently, the only question remaining in a scenario such as this, was what the other meant to each of them — were you truly able to push your obligations aside, or were you only getting close enough to have enough leverage to strike?

On any occasion a disarming laugh left his mouth, or he lent you his support without question, you failed to remember that you were pitched as enemies in the first place. You inevitably no longer felt the same wariness towards the harbinger over time, but it only made you that much more guilty to know just how easily you had begun to trust him.

Yet no matter the hopeful sentiments your sputtering heart provided you, you knew one thing to be true that would always remain so: you would never be on the same side.

“You’ve already fulfilled your task as guide, so why do you still linger here? Haven’t you already seen enough trouble for today?”

You had entered the Golden House apprehensively, perhaps hoping even over the Exuvia’s safety that you wouldn’t meet him there. But coming upon it and hearing the one voice you had been dreading, you begrudgingly came to terms with the fact that you would have to face reality eventually.

“Huh?” Paimon is startled by the sudden disembodied voice. “Who’s there?!”

Childe reveals himself by coming up the stairs you had just now ascended, his saunter maddeningly casual. “If you were Fatui, I imagine that you would be entitled to a generous reward from the Tsaritsa yourself.”

The way he tilts his head with such fake amiability grates across you like nails on a chalkboard. “But now you’re nothing but dross -- and you’re in my way.”

“It looks like I was just in time, then.”

Childe laughs. “Although I’m deeply grateful to you for helping me so effortlessly find this secret location… don’t you think that trying to stop me now would only be a wasted effort?”

“Stopping the mora mints, hiding away the Exuvia,” He laughs again, and your hand instinctively makes a small stretch for your weapon. “And sending you. The Qixing are really pulling out all the stops this time.”

“So you were planning to take the gnosis all along?” You ask flatly, your words swallowed by your own hesitation just after you’d barely gotten out the last word. Even though this mishap wasn’t very detectable, shame burns the back of your throat at the honesty of the reflex.

“As one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, it’s my duty to see the will of the Tsaritsa fulfilled. And she will get which she desires.”

You shake your head, fully grounding your hand and preparing to draw your sword. “Not if I don’t allow you to get near the Exuvia.”

“I’m not looking for your blessing, ___.” Childe narrows his eyes and takes note of this action, the implications of it drawing up a wanton sense of disappointment he had long been expecting. This varies little from your own dismay, unbeknownst to him. “There’s nothing you could do to stop me anyways.”

“The time for discussion and diplomacy has already long passed. I mean, if it were up to me, I would have skipped that stage to begin with�� but, I’m willing to do as the Tsaritsa deems fit.”

“Either way,” An eyebrow arches as an equally intrigued smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “It seems we’re now coming upon my favourite part --  a simple pleasure, and one that I am oh-so delighted to be sharing with you.”

it’s as if a pin drops, and he grins. “The battle.”

You now stand at a fork. Two paths stare at you with expectant eyes, both equally enticing; but the drawbacks of the indulgent solution unfortunately long outweigh those of their obvious counterpart. It’s a decision that must be made on behalf of Liyue, not the hurt of a single heart.

Paimon scoffs, drawing you from your thoughts. “So you’re the type that goes looking for trouble, huh?”

Childe’s laughter rings out, and he throws his head back as if he had heard something particularly funny. “I guess you could say that!”

“When Signora offended the deities outside of the cathedral in Mondstadt, she swiftly left the scene once her mission was accomplished. Instead of confronting you directly, she chose to rely on the snow and ice to make an escape.”

“I would take that as far more than its face value. When she faces a worthy opponent, she will prioritise her mission, weigh the outcomes, and consider the consequences of her actions…” He explains, trailing off with an inexplicable smile. “But as for me, the greatest pleasure of being a harbinger lies in the opportunities I have to cross blades with such opponents.”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll let what happened in Mondstadt ever happen again.”

“Oh? So you do intend to fight me? Good.” Childe’s excitement baffles you and pumps adrenaline into your veins simultaneously. “I won’t kill you, ___, I’ll just play along. To feel the thrill of battle!”

“Besides,” He puts his hands out in an aimless gesture. “You could never defeat me, not even in your wildest dreams. But hey, try to relish in the fight anyways, because if you ask me… without that, what else is there?”

“I could never defeat you?!” His words get the better of you and you laugh in disbelief. “You’re completely delusional.”

He returns the laugh delightedly, igniting a fire of mixed emotions in your chest. “Fighting talk, I love it! Now, let’s see you live up to it.”

You draw your sword at the drop of his last word, taking a step back in preparation for what was to come. Childe, meanwhile, stands watching you with a brewing sensation of glee.

“This chance isn’t easy to come by, so show me all you’ve got.” Arrows infused with water begin to fly in your direction, though you avoid them in haste. “So very few ever get the chance to square off with a Fatui Harbinger, so come now, amuse me. And don’t you dare disappoint.”

You find yourself gritting your teeth at the arrogant words, taken aback at his challenging tone. “You say your colleague has found me praiseworthy, but tell me to only amuse you? That’s a disappointing downgrade.”

A lapse in the time Childe has to shoot gives you enough time to approach him, throwing out a strike of your sword that he catches with his own weapon moulded by water.

“It’s by no means an insult, ___, I’m merely proposing a challenge.” He looks at the way your blades grit against each other and grins. “And it seems you’ve accepted it.” You jump back with the force of his attack to propel yourself. A barrage of geo-aligned magic is summoned beneath your opponent with a stomp to the marble floor.

However, he sidesteps it in a similar fashion, and through a quick exchange of harsh blows, both of you stand back to scope things out. Still, the one aspect that continues to overshadow the rest of your thoughts is the way that Childe’s personality has changed under the scrutiny of battle.

The playful tone he normally sports is long gone, now replaced with a deeper and more realistic one; perhaps even slightly more menacing. It’s as if he’s been flipped into a completely different person.

He laughs maniacally as he uses his hydro vision to drive waves of water out towards you, fully intent on at least knocking you off your feet. The burst of elemental energy ends when Childe leaps back onto the ground. This gives you the leverage you need to go in with another geo attack, this time catching him off guard and launching him to the side.

Childe coughs at the force of the action, his lips curving up into a smile. “Good! No wonder signora was so wary of you.”

His body is encased in an impenetrable bubble of water in an instant, a flash of deep light lashing out from the centre before revealing Childe once again. His swords of water have since been infused by electro energy, and his clothes are darker -- the most noticeable difference, however, is the Fatui mask that had previously been slung over his hair now laid properly over his face.

“Well, that just means I can go all out! Brace yourself, this is about to get tough…” He takes a few preliminary steps. “Show me what you can do against the might of a Harbinger!”

The strikes do indeed get faster. Childe toughens up against seemingly every one of your attacks, dodging most if not all of with even more ease than before. you grit your teeth as you rush to keep up with the frequent blows thrown at you. But, in a panic and reflexive drawback, you retract your sword and desperately block with your arm instead.

Silence entraps the incredibly large room as your sword clatters noisily to the floor. Both the cloth running up the expanse of your arm and wrist piece are slashed considerably, all to reveal a shallow but long gash.

The sensation of electro wastes little time in taking effect, burning up your arm and inducing an inevitable cry of pain as both of you take a step back. Malleable emotion hangs in the heavy atmosphere, waiting to be addressed or otherwise plucked down from their higher place.

Though, his reaction in that split second shows that he might not be just as lost as you’d thought.

Childe has little courage to speak up on any of these topics, but in whatever way he chooses to ignore the berating voice in his head, he can’t push away the sensation of regret swimming in his chest. Watching your face briefly contort in pain you try so hard to hide, yet standing close and being unable to do anything about it -- it’s more real than any understating word his brain could ever feed him.

“What are you doing just standing there?” You suddenly taunt, your voice slightly hoarse as you turn to hide the blood that seeps into your clothing. “I thought you said that you were going to go all out.”

Childe knows that you're right. He had said that, but what would it mean for him to continue? Brawling with you brought the same drunkening high of adrenaline he’s been chasing since he escaped from the abyss all those years ago-- although hurting you wasn’t any sort of intention he’d ever had.

“...I’m only offering a moment to buffer, but I must say -- you’re not bad. Your swordsmanship is quite impressive.” Childe desperately swallows back anything extra that pops into his head and twirls his electrified staff. Personal desires are the last thing he can afford to pay attention to. “But, that’s about as far as you’ll get.”

You sloppily intercept a rough attack that threatens to send you flying backwards, gritting your teeth as you push back with the force of your Anemo power. It goes well for all but the way your arm begins to falter under the stress. Your head naturally follows your body’s trajectory, yet in your panic, the stroke your toed boot makes across the floor leaves a trail of blistering geo behind.

The elements present react immediately, resulting in a blinding explosion. You’re thrown off too quickly and land unsteadily, pain shooting up your arm as you exhale shakily -- you’d never had the misfortune of experiencing a hydro and electro vision working together before now.

“___, are you okay?” Paimon asks frantically, your tiny hands trying their best to locate the heart of the wound on your injured arm. “That cut looks deep, do you really think it’s a good idea to keep pushing yourself?”

You shake your head in dismissal as your eyes move with the clearing dust. “It’s fine, but my sword--?”

Once the haze disperses, you spot your sword almost instantly -- however, you also find Childe’s staff sticking haphazardly into the marble floor right next to it, its owner nowhere to be found.

A laugh sounds from behind you. “I really didn’t think you had that card hidden up your sleeve!”

Your heart drops into your stomach when you whip around to see Childe standing beside Rex Lapis’ corpse, his grin wide like he’d already won the match between you.

“You were just playing us to get close to the Exuvia!”

“Oh, quiet down. Don’t be so quick to judge. You’ve seen this world, you of all people should know...” Childe steadily gathers a ball of electro energy in his palm, the lightning fusing around his gloved hand before materialising. “That this should have been expected!”

The sound is deafening as Childe forces his hand into the Exuvia, opposing elements colliding and responding in turn. “I’ll be taking Morax’s gnosis now!”

Shockwaves come out like tides as the entire room shakes under the pressure of the single action. You’re quick to shield your injured arm from the battering wind, while Paimon latches onto the ornament covering your elbow.

Yet, much to everyone’s surprise, the hand that emerges and unfolds under the glaring light is very much empty.

Childe is taken aback by the particles of light that float from his gloved hand, laughing in frustration as well as bewilderment. “I see. Well, this is most unexpected.”

He turns to look at you through his mask, taking in the equally as surprised expression that moulds your features. But the detail that begins to surface ignites a different, and entirely real type of irritation in him, is the way that your eyes begin to change.

“Morax’s gnosis is far from another old antique,” Ningguang had prefaced this when you had visited her in the Jade Chamber, her words stable and forward. “It is a sign of Liyue’s reigning power, and also a symbol for the people to look towards; as not only a god, but also the keeper of peace. This is not something that would be hidden carelessly.”

“Many people throughout my years as a Qixing have tried to outsmart the layers close to the gnosis, however, none have succeeded. Its protector is someone of utmost secrecy whose identity I must not reveal, not even to you.”

She had sighed, placing a warm yet distant smile on her face. “But, I believe this method will continue to deter unwanted hands, along with you in their capable stead.”

Your eyes widen as you take an instinctual step back. You’d found it nearly impossible when tasked with feeding the Harbinger outdated details, though your heart feels heavy in realising that it had gone to show how much Childe truly did learn to trust you.

But, it had worked, hadn’t it? Because of this, the exuvia was somewhere far away -- in capable hands, as Ningguang had phrased it. Yet you feel little want to celebrate this small victory, immediately reminded of the situation it’s caused as Childe’s vision flares up around him, warping his figure in your eyes.

“You… You beat me to it, didn’t you?” Childe doesn’t miss your sense of victory being quickly replaced by fear, but in a fit of irritation, he takes no time in disregarding it.

He leaps haphazardly into the centre of the room, forcing you to careen out of the way as his electro vision fries the air around you. It becomes stuffy and unbearably hot in the enclosed space entirely too quickly. But, throughout the sudden drastic change in their atmosphere, you can’t help but notice the second transformation that Childe has gone through; yet rather this time, it’s much more drastic.

Once the air dissipates, Childe leaps back to the floor once again, his heavy military boots marking his step indefinitely. The attire he wears is fittingly close to armour -- presenting a deep blue and purple suit that fits like a second skin.

“Not a bad trick,” His spear of water that had since been lodged in the marble floor flies into his hand, twirling to rest on his shoulder as his voice stabilises. “But, this is going to cost you!”

The same weapon is pushed into the ground with overflowing destructive power. It quickly runs veins out like web beneath your feet, electro charge roughly and abruptly breaking the floor to reveal another space below.

You're dragged down indiscriminately amongst the falling debris, roughly colliding with the sharp edges before hitting the ground once again. Your arm, still slightly bleeding and swollen, screams at the harsh impact. Though having landed on your stomach meant that other parts of your body had absorbed most of the shock, natural reflexes had forced you to receive some of the heavier damage in your arm regardless.

There wasn’t a lot that you could do about this, however, other than pick yourself up again and hope that Childe was still too high up to see your pain clearly. Thankfully, lo and behold, a purple light just then begins to descend almost hauntingly through the smoke. It blinks out briefly before revealing Childe again as every messy part of the room is blown away by an incredible elemental power.

You hold up your uninjured arm to combat against the strong wind, wincing as your body is forced back.

“You got to the gnosis ahead of me, didn’t you?” Childe’s staff finally rests in his hand, however, the aura he gives off alone is enough to make you antsy. “Did you simply move faster? Or… did you leak the information regarding the Golden House to me on purpose?”

“...You’ve outsmarted me, ___. But that doesn’t mean the information won’t be in my hands by the time we’re done.” Another electric current fills the room as he moves to make an attack. “So, fight hard knowing there's something of such value on the line.”

Your eyes flicker around the room for your sword as you say, “How do you know that I have any of the information you need? That’s betting a lot on nothing.”

He laughs, the familiar sound chilling.

“You don’t have to be omnipotent to take a best guess. Besides, I’m confident enough in knowing that you’re smart enough to play me, so a battle between friends to determine that isn’t too much of a stretch, is it?”

You spot the sword and take a hesitant step towards it, attempting to return his words as a distraction. “It’s strange to call me a friend and threaten to put a knife in my chest in the same sentence. I thought you said that you weren’t going to kill me?”

Childe pauses, debating his next words carefully. “...Conditions are ever-changing.”

“If they were going to change so drastically, you should have told me earlier. Maybe then I could’ve figured out how to explain something I don’t know the answer to.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, ___.” His delusion’s deeper tone makes even the most playful of his words sound threatening. You stand your ground, though, knowing that no matter what your apprehension presents, nothing will change the fact that your weapon is only a mere step away.

“I know that you can tell me.”

You know I can? The supposedly comforting statement bounces around in your head, creating a ringing in your ears and a painful drumming against your temples. It’s not that simple, you think. There's little he wouldn’t be able to get from you if gone about the right way, however, as long as the information remained important, it would stay unattainable to even him.

You grit your teeth, feet twisting boldly into a position that’ll make it easier to leap in the direction you need. “I won’t tell you anything,” The leap is short and filled with almost too much strength, but you make up for any shortcomings by turning to block the incredibly close blow Childe had thrust out to stop you.

You push your sword against his with the force of all of your irritation, jaw clenched as your words come out in a single breath. “Because I know that I don’t have anything to say to the person that betrayed me.”

Unsurprisingly, words like those are some of the last that Childe wants to hear at that moment. No amount of guilt tripping or humiliation was typically enough to get to him, however, your simple declaration hits him in a spot that he’s long tried to bury.

Childe scoffs, pretending that he hadn’t blatantly hesitated. “You’re not fit to be here if you’re shaken by the betrayal of someone like me. Take it from me and give up while you’re ahead.”

You’re stunned by Childe’s brutal words for a brief moment, leaving him an important window to more easily knock your weapon away, out of your weakened hands. His blade meets your throat with little hesitation, the cool water stinging against your overheated skin.

Childe’s eyes wander to the way your body turns slightly to protect your injured arm, and disregarding the way his stomach twists, he shakes his head. “What’s wrong, ___? The way you are now won’t be able to defeat me.”

He looks at the way you hesitate and the already putrid feeling in his gut turns rotting. You make no more effort to fight back despite your strength, nor move the weapon lying firmly right over one of your weakest points.

“I might end up killing you if you don’t tell me where the gnosis is.” Childe tries to push you further, but is taken aback when your brows knit as if frustrated. You know very well that he’s someone with bad intentions, yet why do you continue to yearn to see the good in him? To see the carefree person you’d known before today?

You don’t respond, unmoving beneath his heavy gaze for all but the way your hands begin to slowly hover up towards the sword pressuring your neck.

Why can’t you stop?

Your shaking hands take the blade lightly in your grip, the vision-adjacent water searing your battered skin. A droplet of sweat slides down your cheek yet all you can focus on is the way Childe’s eyes instantly delve into panic.

“If you’re going to kill me, you should hurry up and save us both the suffering.”

The sudden powerful statement sounds unreal coming from such a weakened person, blood running down your fingers as you force his sword away.

“What makes you think that your death would cause me any harm?” Childe’s heart thumps wildly beneath his clothes as he lets his weapon be redirectioned, but his brows furrow. “I used you. Do you have yet to realise that?”

“You think I’m so inept that I would believe in someone so fast?” Your fingers go to nestle in the fabric of your skirt, the clothing acting as a temporary shield from the pain. “It was no secret that you weren’t someone to be trusted.”

“Then why lead me here if you’re so confident in yourself? Surely you don’t think that picking a fight with me was a sound idea?”

“You came here yourself. I was never looking to fight.” You mumble truthfully, taking your hand away from your skirt to reveal your palms stained with blood. “...I only said what I did because I don't like hurting those I care about.”

Childe stands paralysed in shock upon hearing such honest words, his mouth opening and closing as he rushes to process their meaning. What could he possibly say to that?

You hadn’t left a single mark on him despite believing that you were fighting for your life, whereas he had prioritised outside matters over listening to his internal backlash -- he had hurt you in a simple twisted warning.

“___, you--”

He’s barely able to get a sentence out before you sigh, going up to him with little hope before wrapping your arms around him.

Childe exhales unsteadily, his weapons then evaporating as his torso and arms instinctively straighten up. Moments of complete stillness go by unhindered. But, you wait patiently for any type of response from the man in your arms.

“...___.” He finally mumbles this from above your head, voice incredibly soft. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You’re at a loss as for how to respond, because truthfully -- the answer is mostly lost even to you. All you can do is drown in the silence that you’ve created, heart picking out the worst parts of the way his posture stays tense.

Childe groans abruptly, his delusion slowly beginning to break down to reveal his normal clothes. “Come on,”

As if something restricting him had suddenly been removed, he staggers and sinks to his knees, body going limp at the sudden lapse in support of his vision. Though fortunately, you follow him even while he goes down.

Your arms struggle to support the sudden weight as his chin lulls forward, colliding with your shoulder just as your knees hit the floor. He’s not entirely weak, you think, noticing the way he purposely tries to shift a lot of pressure off of you. Though you don’t know much about his delusion, it seems viable to assume that the form had just exhausted a decent amount of energy.

You feel the heat of his hands hesitantly coming upon your sides, but much to your disappointment, they quickly retract before he mumbles, “You’re a fool.”

“I know.” You whisper. “But, it’s too late. I can’t give up on you now.”

Childe scoffs, the sound muffled by your shoulder as he brings his arms up around you. He embraces you so tightly that it’s as if you’ve struck something inside him.

Those words are so unfair, they almost give me hope.

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Secret santa - F.W.

This is my fic for @thisismysecrethappyplace​‘s writing challenge, using prompt #27 - "Today, it's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me."

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader (although the house is not mentioned much)

word count: 2070

a/n: I’m not one of the people who start celebrating Christmas on November 1st (but if you do - live your extra life, love) but the idea of secret santa game just popped into my head and I couldn’t think of any other story to work with the quote. Year is not specified.

If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know!

December rolled around and the castle of Hogwarts has been covered in snow once again. The snow reflecting the little sunlight the area got this time of year, making the inside seem a bit brighter. It reminded you that in just a few weeks’ time it would be Christmas. Even though you were to stay at Hogwarts this year, you were looking forward to it.

During one of the study sessions in the Great Hall, you were sat next to your friends from Gryffindor. You were quietly chatting to Angelina and Katie. One word led to another and you learnt that the girls and a few more friends of yours would be staying for the Christmas break as well.

“Look, we’ll finally get to properly spend the holidays together-“ Katie started, but Angelina quickly joked, “oh, like the big, dysfunctional, happy family we are” and finished with a big grin that quickly fell when she caught Professor Vector’s eye and got back to her notebook. “Hey, that’s not a half-bad idea,” you put your quill down and looked between the girls, “how about we gather the rest and do a ‘secret Santa’ type of deal, huh?” you said enthusiastically. They studied you a bit sceptically, but you got them intrigued.

When you got them convinced, you talked to a few other people and decided to gather the next evening after dinner to draw the names so you’d still have almost three weeks to prepare the gifts.

That’s how you found yourself, all the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angie and Katie gathered at one of the tables near a huge fireplace at the Great Hall. Being very excited about the idea, you prepped the pieces of parchment with the names beforehand and now everybody was to draw one from a hat passed around the group.

When it reached you, your heart started to beat slightly faster – you were quietly hoping to get Fred – you were friends, but you liked him slightly more and were hoping the act of kindness of a well thought out gift would get you some bonus points. It was now or never.

You reached in, stirred around with your hand a bit and picked one of the folded pieces, then passed the hat on. Carefully, so that no one would see it, you unfolded the parchment that read-

“Lee Jordan”

You tried not to show disappointment on your face. It was fine. You liked Lee and you planned to make the best gift you could think of. You’d still get to see Fred, even if you didn’t make the present for him.

You couldn’t help but wonder who did draw his name. Would they make a nice gift? Maybe a nicer one than you would’ve? Get his gratitude- oh, how you hoped it wasn’t any of the quidditch girls. What if it’s Angie? Oh, he must like her – she’s tall, pretty, and cool-

“Hey, Y/N?” Hermione’s voice snapped you out of your spiralling thoughts. “What’d you think? Do we exchange on Christmas eve? Christmas day, boxing..?” Asked Katie. “Uhm, the eve’s fine,” you mumbled and followed everyone, getting up and heading out.

You said your goodbyes and separated from the group – you were the only one headed to the dungeons. As you were about to go through the door you saw a piece of parchment someone must’ve dropped. Before you got to it, you saw Harry notice it and pick it up.

Passing by, you involuntarily looked at the parchment-

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Dammit, you thought and went on. That was about it for your surprise, or at least half of it.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

Days had passed, then weeks, and you found yourself with just a few days left in this term before the winter break would start.

You woke up late, with weird neck pain – you had slept in a funny position. Throwing on your robes you kicked your shin by accident and took a moment to shout out a few indecent words to help ease the pain and then you pushed through, determined to reach potions on time.

During the break, before your second period, you figured you would stop by the library to pick up a book you were going to need for an assignment you planned to start that evening.

Walking through the aisles with your destination well known, you looked out the large windows at the snow – and with the remnants of any positive attitude you had in you, you smiled to yourself.

“Have you done yours already..?” you suddenly heard Ron’s ineffectual whisper from behind a bookcase. It made you stop in your tracks and against your better judgement, you listened in. “Yeah, I got her a book…” Harry’s voice whispered back. ‘please, don’t say what book’ you repeated in your mind. “… something about the history of wizarding settlements in Britain..? I can’t remember the title, but she’ll like it.”

You grimaced to yourself at the thought – he couldn’t be more wrong. And then to top it, he added some sweets you absolutely loathed.

With heavy steps and a heavy heart, you headed to charms.

You liked charms, and you loved professor Flitwick. He was one of the decent teachers in this school, kind and sometimes even funny.

Today was one of those lessons, this time of year, that he gave up on starting a new topic and decided you were to do some revisions. Your mood slightly lifted, you were practising the banishing charm.

As the end of the lesson was drawing close you got comfortable and your mind started to wander. Thinking about the earlier events, you lost your focus and accidentally knocked over the pile od books Flitwick was standing on, sending the professor flying face down.

He was nice enough to understand your mistake and you were not punished in any way, but it didn’t change how bad you felt about it.

As you headed to lunch, cursing the universe, Merlin, and everything around, you thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

And then you tripped on one of the stone floor slabs.

You heard Fred and George’s booming laughs, lying on the floor and debating whether life was worth getting up. When the twins saw you not getting up, they stopped laughing.

Fred walked up and looked at you a bit confused – the fall wasn’t all that bad and you didn’t look hurt. “You alright there, sunshine?” he said leaning over you. You groaned in response and rolled over, then reluctantly got up from the cold floor with Fred’s help. “Peachy,” you replied, dusting off your robes and Fred snorted, then studied your expression.

He signalled for George to go without him and patted your shoulder lightly. “Today, it's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me.” You gestured wildly. “Alright then, papa Fred’s got you. What’s troubling you?” he asked, slightly amused, yet genuinely as you began strolling in the direction of the great hall. You took a deep breath, wondering where to start. “I slept in, was almost late to potions which we know would leave me with trauma, I knocked Flitwick to the ground by accident when we practised Depulso  - and now this,” you kicked the cousin slab of the one that made you trip and Fred chuckled at your pout, “Oh and I almost forgot – my Christmas present’s gonna be rubbish,” you exaggerated. “How so?” he asked, confused. “Well, I know who’s my secret Santa already. Found out by accident. Then I overheard what I’m gonna get… I mean, it’s okay, but I guess I was just hoping for something nice…” you rambled looking down to the ground. “Oh. Okay then… you know what? I actually promised Lee I’d pick something up for him before lunch, so – I- I’ll see you later?..” It was your turn to be confused. You looked up at him but before you raised your hand with a little wave and mumbled small “bye”, he walked off.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

You haven’t seen Fred all that much since that weird encounter – you didn’t have any classes together and you were in different houses so it was just a coincidence to you.

The Christmas Eve came around and you were playing wizards’ chess with Ron in the great hall to pass time before the rest of the group gathered. People were slowly pouring in, each of them adding to the small pile on the wooden table, a box enchanted with a concealing spell, so that each gift looked the same – and the secret Santa remained secret. Among the last few was Fred, looking slightly sheepish for himself.

“So are doing it, lads and lassies?” exclaimed Lee rubbing his palms together, making everyone chuckle. You all sat down close in what resembled a circle, making sure no one was left out.

Hermione pointed her wand at the pile of boxes, “Revelio” and they all appeared in different forms, with various name tags attached.

You decided to open the gifts one by one going clockwise, starting with all-too-eager Lee. You couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on your face when you saw his child-like joy after opening the gift from you. Then it was Angelina’s turn, then yours.

You reached for the package with your name on it, trying to appear enthusiastic and not-at-all like you already knew what was inside. You unwrapped the paper with a mix of shock and confusion on your face.

Inside the paper was a box of your favourite chocolates and underneath a plain-looking book. You opened it and it turned out to be a photo album filled with photographs of you with your friends, along with some captions and thematic drawings on the white-ish pages around them.

With mouth slightly open you flicked through a few pages and ran your hand over the doodles. You looked up at Harry, who had the same expression as anyone in this circle – except for one person who studied your reaction and tried to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

The gift opening continued. It was when Hermione opened hers and you saw what you had thought you’d get that it dawned on you. It started with the assumption that when Harry picked up the note with your name it meant he was your secret Santa, which (obvious for you now) didn’t have to be the case and it wasn’t. Then with your mind set in stone, you just kept assuming things.

“Did you like your gift?” with newfound courage thanks to the good mood, you nudged Fred on the way out. He slowed down to walk beside you and separate from his mates. “Why, were you my Santa?” he asked cheekily. “No, not this year. Just curious.” you shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, it was nice.” he stated simply, and after a bit of silence added, “d’you like yours?” “Why, were you my Santa?” you giggled. He put his hands in his pockets and avoided your gaze as a smile started creeping upon his face. “Merlin’s beard, you were..?” you cursed yourself for saying that out loud as your heart started thudding. “Maybe.” He looked at you with a mischievous smile and you melted. “Freddie, I loved it. It was really… sweet,” you said, shyly. “Good then, glad it wasn’t rubbish.” he snorted lightly and you wanted to bury yourself right then and there. “I’m soo sorry about that, it was a misunderstanding. I was in a bad mood, I thought somebody else was making a gift for me, I- I didn’t… I’m sorry Freddie.” You smiled awkwardly at him and he chuckled, ruffling your hair. “It’s alright, sunshine. I’m happy you don’t resent me” “I could never.” “Oh?” he stopped and looked you straight in the eye, smirking. “Uh, I mean…” your mind went blank. “You see, I was really happy when I drew your name.” he looked up above the two of you and your eyes remained on him. “It just so happens that I really like you so you must agree it would be convenient if you liked me back.”

You gulped. He looked back down at you, then gestured with his eyes for you to look up.

There it was, hovering above you, in all its glory – the magical mistletoe.

“So?” He leaned down a bit, turned his head to the side and tapped his finger on his cheek, “make it up to me?”

[kim-monsterlings]

Hello! Is it okay if I ask for a monster match? If it isn't just delete request!

So em... Biologically I'm a/my pronounce is a she/her. I'm 5'3 or 5'4 (not sure). I'm a heterosexual (but I look gay as f-). I love studying arts (music, architecture and etc.). A bit of history nerd and sometimes (almost every time) overthinker. I keen watching TV shows, anime, documentaries and honestly anything. I'm a wierd combo of introvert & extravert. Prefer staying at home and living my 'raccoon in the dumpster' life. Veeeeery touchy (with concent ofc). That type of a person to hold a frog, call it Garry and claim that it's your knew friend. (Love snakes, spiders and a lot more of wild animals that a lot of people dislike). Good looking flying living creatures are my weakness.

A bit about my look (spoiler I'm fabulous) ((maybe)). I have short dark brownish hair. Blue and green eyes. Small chest and a good looking 🍑. Prefer mens clothing (POCKETS AND FREEDOM TO THE WAIST) but I don't mind feminine.

I'm searching for someone a bit of opposite of me (looking opposite too but honestly doesn't really matter), so he could push me sometimes when I get too lazy or smt. And sometimes to walk me bc my home is my fortress (again home dumpster racoon). Preferably WAY taller then me (I need a pillow). Someone that can tolerate my sometimes (a lot of times) childishness. I don't really care about what type of monster he is. As long as he ok with me being me.

Thank you ahead! ♥️💓

Levi - M Harpy x F Human (Reader) // SFW Monster Match

Anon monster match <3 I hope you love him!

Matches under the read more!

Content: SFW/Citrus; flirting, intimate embraces (cuddling, kissing), mentions of dating/courtship, creating a nest, use of endearment “sweetheart”, allusions to sexual intimacy

Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi

Headcanon

Levi approached you first.

Though after his confession of being captivated by you - returning to the old museum in the hopes of stumbling into you once again, no recollection of him came to mind, and you would have remembered him.

Who wouldn’t?

Delicately feathered, shimmering with navy tips and darkened to near ebony closer to his chest. Long legs with talons clicked on the polished floor, but only the presence settling carefully beside you had roused you from staring toward the hanging artwork.

As rare as days out were of your own volition, you would never tire of reading the plaques and learning more with each visit. You hadn't moved for almost an hour when soft feathers tickled against your arm and in his attempt to create distance, they ruffled and stroked closer.

He may have approached you first with his chest puffed out and his head turned to focus only on you, but you were the one to speak, undeterred from staring at the wall opposite.

"Do you like it? This piece?"

His breath left him in a quiet exhale, enough to finally lure your attention to the broad expanse of his frame - failing in curling himself smaller, tracing the gentle sloping of his forehead down to his nose with a warmer stare.

In a voice as gentle as him, the stranger, as he was then, rasped, "sorry?"

"It's nothing special, is it?"

Rising from the low bench had you leaning against him - for the slightest and most fleeting of moments, relishing in the heat of his feathers, before he stood with you.

So close, his wing extended like a guiding arm, you couldn't help but reach to trace over them until he trembled.

Overstepping hardly made the best first impression, with little idea of how sensitive his wings may be, but the harpy stepped closer, lips curling. "Walk around with me?"

Your decision was made even before asking, "how much do you know of the artwork?"

"Very... very little."

"Perfect."

Many afternoons passed in a close embrace, though you were hesitant to have him accompany you home. For however much you adored a day out, you loved time spent indoors far better, and the evening came around by your invitation to share your favourite films with him.

Even still, you doubted he enjoyed them.

(You had a slight suspicion he watched them not only to have you tucked against him, but to see your delight in whispering the memorised script.)

The incredibly brief tour of your open-plan home led you into your bedroom to change into something comfier, hesitating there too long.

You returned to a sight you'd never forget, and one reinforcing the love you had for him.

"Do you mind?"

Levi bounced unsteadily on his thin legs, surrounded by a mess of cushions and blankets; a hastily arranged nest. Using those same sheets you had readied earlier on the sofa, too, and you were struggling for words.

"We've had our days out," he murmured, extending an arm to draw you close. "Now, I just want you. Is that okay?"

You tiptoed to whisper, "perfect."

Drabble

Some weeks felt longer than others. Little could rouse you now beyond the dimensions of your bed - not even the quiet ringing of your phone. The screen would brighten with the warm photo of dappled feathers, your boyfriend reminding you of your plans for the day. 

You hadn't forgotten.

He never left your mind.

Though the gentle knocking at your door made you turn deeper into your pillows. When the door creaked open, your smile tucked into the sheets soon to be pulled from your body. 

Not too long ago - not long enough after your first date, really, you had gifted Levi a key of his own. His courtship passed quickly and you were smitten, but he had opened the hastily folded tissue paper and frowned.

"Oh. Oh, I... thank you." 

By reflex alone, you moved to snatch the key, already rasping, "it was a mistake-" 

Feathers tickled your cheeks, lips soft against yours. His laughter never failed to soothe your nerves and he spread his arms wide around you. "I already have a key. I walk you home almost every night. Who do you think unlocks the door?" 

With it official then, it warranted a sweeter kiss, and the same greeted you now with warm hands coaxing you from the sheets. His quiet sigh resonated like a sharp twinge in your chest until you remedied it by stroking up through his feathered chest, just how he liked. 

"You coming out today, sweetheart?" 

Little more than a whine was your answer, a pout beckoning a kiss. Routine warned of quiet tutting - of pleading and compromise (often in your favour), but today you wanted nothing more than to finish the documentary you started the other night with him, not to go outside. 

Arms slipping beneath you earned a scowl. "I'm not going." 

Levi grinned. "Looks like you're going somewhere." 

This became the compromise; an understanding that though you loved to waste the day drowsy and warm, the nest he added to with every visit in your lounge welcomed you both. There was less chance of talons dragging against your legs, and more space for him to nestle tight. 

"We'll have a quiet day today," he murmured. "Next weekend, we're going somewhere nice. My treat - you can't say no." 

"We'll see." Levi pinched your waist and you smothered your smile into his wing, only for it to widen when his breath caught. You slipped your fingers lower down his stomach. "That's next weekend. Right now, we're laying together, and I still have too many clothes on. Want to help with that?"

[internalsealpanic]

Dick Grayson x Mercenary Reader HCs Part 1

a/n: This is basically a Dick Grayson/ Reader thingy that has been stuck in my head for months but I haven’t plotted out an actual fic for. Basically, I have the relationship mapped out in my head but I have no scenarios. I was hoping someone could suggest a plot I can play with. This part is mostly platonic with hints of a future relationship. This is pretty much in a weird version of canon running around in my head. 

masterlist

You’re Deathstroke’s apprentice. (This version is the version from the Knights and Dragons movie so he isn't a complete and utter asshole. Look, I just really like that version.) Let's just say you had more moxie than self preservation. It also helps that you’re a meta with a pretty unique power. Anything drawn on your skin turns into a physical object. (You basically have a bunch of permanent markers on you in addition to your usual equipment.)

Dick doesn't like you because of your profession but has a grudging respect for your skill. You think Dick is annoying for getting in the way but you understand that he's just trying to do his best to help the city in his own useless way.

YOU LORDING YOUR HEIGHT OVER DICK WHEN YOU'RE KIDS AND YOU QUIETLY CURSING WHEN YOU STOP GROWING.

You and Dick never set out to be friends. You honestly had no clue when this even started. Maybe it was because you keep accidentally saving each other or maybe because you two have a lot to bond over such as murdered parents and emotionally inept mentors. 

When it actually started: You, in full  costume, recognize your least favourite bird and see that he's crying and that he not only has an ugly bruise in his face but also a bunch of other injuries. you simply sit with him and throw your arms around him letting your muscles relax as if to tell him ‘it's ok and that you’ve got him’. You let him cry into your shoulder. You understand that you have a little more in common than he's willing to admit. You use one of your motion tattoo wings as a cover from the rain and the other to keep Dick warm. When Dick finally calms down enough to think, he's jarred by how nice you are acting. your general demeanor loosened at this point you let your offense show and the very petulant look on your face draws a tired laugh out of Dick. your angry look melts to give way to something resembling relief. You stay there for a while not speaking before Dick decides he needs to leave. Without a fuss you let him go.

After that, instead of fighting each other during encounters, you two kind of just sit together and start talking about what happened since your last encounter. Or you two play rock, paper, scissors to see who ‘won’. 

Dick realizes that your personality is hilariously incompatible with your chosen profession. You rant about how Slade lectures you about learning how to lie better and when they tested how bad you were at it Dick was sure Alfred would politely word it as wooden. you had good control over your body language but you had a look caught between pain and annoyance etched on your face. 

Mini scenario: 

Dick is really stressed out with school and vigilanteing and with Bruce that he just starts wandering around Gotham. 

It was a bad idea. Wandering around Gotham is generally a bad idea especially if your head isn't on straight but there is something relaxing about just wandering around. 

Dick ends up at one of Gotham's old movie theatres. One of those businesses that you're pretty sure is a front for something because you can't wrap your head around how they could possibly still be in business. 

Then there you were a foot from the ticketing windows. His mind instantly recognizes you. You, in turn, recognize him instantly. 

When neither of you launch into an attack, you decide to watch a movie together. After bickering for 15 minutes about what movie you should watch, you decide on a coin toss. Because you won, Dick was subjected to your love of terrible movies. 

You go out for burgers afterwards and joke about the movie. You complain about the bad acting and the ridiculous story line. You even come up with how they should have done it.

Your lunch was spent outside in the parking lot of the burger joint. 

You walk around some more after you explain that you haven't been to this part of Gotham and Dick gives you a mini tour. 

You talk about a mix of mundane teenager things and some complaints about their occupations.

You check your watch and explain that you need to go to the grocery store for ingredients. 

Dick goes with you just because. He won't admit that he's having a lot of fun.

Being teenagers they fuck around. Being exceptionally athletic and intelligent teenagers you fuck around entertainingly. 

At first, you play 'the price is right' because Dick wants to prove he isn't a spoiled rich kid. He doesn't prove jack. You don't do much better but it's on the opposite end. 

You get bored and frustrated so you start a scavenger hunt much to the terror of the other customers. How would you feel about 2 terrors zooming around screaming about butter and backflipping over you?

Dick is busy gloating about his victory when the store gets robbed. Dick can't do anything because right now he is a rich boy extraordinaire and should not be capable of fighting. you on the other hand is sore from losing and just yeets a can into one of the robbers faces. 

Everyone's attention pans to your as you ready to lob another can at them. The robbers run leaving their unconscious friend on the floor bleeding. 

You still pay for the can but ask Dick to get another one. 

 Walking down the street, Dick notices how many take out places are on the way and asks why you don't just eat from there. you simply tell him you like home cooking more. He notes that for next time. 

You exchange phone numbers so you can plan a next time. 

The next time they hang out you both bring homemade snacks to sneak into the theater.

They start hanging out in civvies and do really mundane civilian stuff you want to try and that Dick doesn't get to do enough. 

You become a sort of hub of normality for Dick. He can talk to you about all the weird stuff without worrying about your not getting it or your judging him while also doing the most mind numbingly human things. 

What do they usually talk about:

Casual nerdy stuff

Weird history shit you reads about

Vigilante stuff

Funny henchman stories from the perspective of a vigilante and a higher level henchman

Sometimes they talk about trauma but they only vaguely mention it

They debate over dumb things like whether there's too much variety in cereal. Guess who's on which side. 

Sometimes they discuss fighting techniques. 

Dick teaches you Romani and about the Romani culture

You sometimes explains various myths and superstitions from your own culture

Dick sometimes talks about school and galas and you end up making fun of weird rich people. They also end up making fun of the various rich people who hire you.

You'll talk about almost everything with each other

You bring him to one of your safe houses for a home cooked meal after he tells you how he lives off of cereal. You were horrified. 

The Titans, Batman, and Alfred get really suspicious about Dick's new civilian friend. 

Slade gets suspicious of you frequently visiting certain cities. 

Somehow they figure out that you are the wraith. 

They all lecture Dick about it. 

Slade just finds the whole thing amusing and debates on whether he can actually convince you to give up some of Grayson's secrets. 

I just love the image of them casually hanging out in civvies with Batman questioning Dick's life decisions and what your has been influenced by his relationship with Catwoman while Deathstroke and Wintergreen are just quietly amused by the situation at some point they were worried about you discussing merc stuff but neither talk about current business unless it's safe to. 

Wintergreen isn't particularly worried since Grayson is a good kid. Wintergreen once joked that you should convince him to join their side. You said that Dick didn't have the right personality to be a merc. The irony of this was completely lost on your. 

You spending a ton of your hard earned mercenary money to win a stuffed toy that you think little Rose would want. Dick making fun of you for not getting it then he ends up spending too much money but he eventually gets it. You and Dick pass by a shop and you see the exact same stuffed toy in the shop window for a sixteenth of the fortune you spent at the arcade. Good news though, Rose still has the stuffed toy. 

 Both of you being petty at dance dance revolution. 

When you rant to each other in less than private areas, you rapidly switch languages.

Unbeknownst to Slade, Dick actually knows a bunch of his safe houses and unbeknownst to Dick, those are Deathstroke's safe houses.  You are technically not lying when you say it's yours. 

You have a silent pact not to blow each other's covers unless they deem it completely necessary (when people's lives are at stake). The only person who knows this pact is Jason and they have bought his silence. 

You will both go out of their way to help each other out of a bind. 

Sometimes when Bruce and Alfred are out of town and the stars align to have you visiting for a job, you end up helping Dick babysit. Jason gets confused and defensive at first. You have dealt with distrustful youngins. Neither Rose nor Joey wanted anything to do with you at first. You, however, grew up wanting siblings so you tried your darndest to look after them and it is really fucking hard to not let this munchkin grown on you. 

When you're old enough to hit the club they often go drinking together. You once tried to have you wingman for Dick. Using the ‘fantastic’ negotiating skills you got from mercenary work, you ended up getting the number for yourself. You once told Rose and Joey about it and both of them made lighthearted jokes about it. 

Dick gets confronted by Slade at sword point and asks what his intentions are with his kid (He honestly isn't at all serious but he likes how scared Dick got because the man is terrifying.)

Dick also gets interrogated by Joey and Rose because, you know, this is their big sister. 

You often insist on family dinners at least once every 2 weeks with your siblings, sometimes with their mom (Adeline is kind of not ok with you and Rose being present but is trying her best for Joey's sake), sometimes with their dad, occasionally with their uncle Wintergreen. 

You usually just casually call Slade 'pops'  and you drawls 'dad' when you’re pissed and 'papa' when you’re emotional. You try your damndest to only call him Slade or Deathstroke on the field but sometimes you slip up and calls him pops in the field

You have batnapped each batkid at least once. Batnapping meaning seeing a baby bat and throwing them over your shoulder when you’re pretty sure they’re going to get killed. This isn’t limited to kids. You still do this when they’re adults. The image of you throwing Dick over your shoulder when you two were tiny gives me life but you throwing Dick and/or Jason over your shoulder when they’re huge has me cackling.  

You basically accidentally become a de facto big sister/ mom friend to the batkids purely through your friendship with Dick.

Images from this scenario I can’t get out of my head:

Stargazing

Teaching Dick how to cook. He just ends up going to your place for a meal though. 

Running around during a rain storm huddled under a jacket with Dick because neither of you checked the weather

Casual affection you two share because you’re both tactile people. Casual affection as in just sitting on the couch in each other’s space, bumping shoulders to communicate, leaning on each other, hugging each other when greeting each other, and all that good stuff. 

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

Thanks for reading! I’m really sorry for the grammar and disorganization. 

If you guys are interested in the more bickering dialogue heavy part 2 either comment here or send an ask or pm me. *shrugs* This is just really self indulgent on my part. 

taglist: 

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes (I will stop tagging you when you run out of good ideas for me.)

[first-son-of-finwe]

Nerdanel & elfling!Finarfin

This is a little fic that I’ve had knocking about in my docs for a while but never published, but y’alls might like it so here it is :)

Mostly I just wanted some sister-in-law cuteness. Bride-to-be Nerdanel wanders the palace and finds little Finarfin all on his own, so of course it’s time for them to bond.

Featuring dickish Feanor, because of course it must.

Nerdanel wandered the rooms of the palace alone, carefully stowing each new room into her memory. It would be so easy to get lost in the seemingly endless labyrinth of ballrooms, libraries, dining rooms and hallways, and she often found herself wondering why the Noldorin royal family needed all of this space.

She oriented herself around the grand staircase, which served as the central point of the palace. So long as she knew where that was, she wouldn’t be lost.

Fëanáro had gone away with his father for the day. They so rarely got the chance to spend time together anymore, and so they had taken the opportunity to travel to the gardens where Queen Míriel’s tomb lay. Nerdanel had tentatively offered to join them, though Fëanáro hadn’t wanted to burden her with such a deeply emotional journey. He would take her separately, he said. Besides, it seemed to be almost something sacred between the father and son, a ritual that only they could fully understand.

The day was drawing to a close and Nerdanel found herself with little to do, so she decided to familiarise herself with the layout of the place which was now her home. Or at least, it would be for the next few weeks. Neither she nor Fëanáro intended to stay for long after their wedding, both preferring the quiet, remote settlement on the outskirts of the city to start their new family. It was two days’ ride from Tirion and not far from the home of Mahtan, and it was peaceful, spacious and tranquil, with a large forest on its border. Utterly perfect.

Nerdanel opened a new door and carefully peered into the room, and to her surprise, this one wasn’t empty. A small, fair-haired elfling sat on the floor surrounded by puzzle pieces, and a smattering of stuffed animals sat in a row, watching his progress. About half of the puzzle was done, and the elfling was holding a piece in his hand with his small brow furrowed, trying to figure out where it should go. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, blinking as he stared at the newcomer. Nerdanel smiled at him.

“Hello, little one. I haven’t disturbed you, have I?”

Arafinwë shook his head.

“May I come in?”

He nodded, sitting on his heels as he looked at her curiously. Nerdanel approached slowly, recognising the child as King Finwë’s youngest son.

“I’m Nerdanel, I’m…”

“You’re brother’s friend,” he said softly. “You’re getting married.”

Nerdanel smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”

“I saw you when you arrived. You have pretty hair.”

Nerdanel laughed in pleasant surprise, taking a seat opposite the child.

“That’s very nice of you to say. What are you doing here all by yourself?”

Arafinwë shrugged.

“Everyone is busy. I wanted ammë to play with me, but she says she can’t because atar is gone and she has to do his duties. She gave me this…” he gestured at the half completed puzzle, before looking at her with a bit of hope.

“Will you help me with it?”

Nerdanel smiled, a little sad for the boy. A house full of family, yet no one seemed to be watching over him. 

“Of course I will,” she said enthusiastically, scooting closer to the puzzle and picking up a piece. In truth she was glad of the company, feeling a little alone herself in the endless halls. “You’ve done so much already...you must be very good at this.”

Arafinwë seemed a little more animated now, and he smiled brightly and pushed a small pile of pieces towards her.

“This is only my second one,” he told her. “I did another a week ago. There was a beach and a sunset and a big boat, I was doing it until Laurelin waned, ammë had to come and take me to bed.”

“Goodness,” Nerdanel chuckled, slotting one of her own pieces into the puzzle. “It sounds lovely. I like beaches too. They’re very beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” Arafinwë nodded enthusiastically, then started describing one trip atar had taken the family on once, how he’d loved the waves and the smell of the ocean even though they were too strong, and Nolofinwë had had to come and rescue him from the tide. He talked about how Fëanáro hadn’t wanted to touch the water, despite Arvo’s attempts to try and involve his brother in the fun, so he brought him some water scooped into a shell instead.

The child continued to chatter, and despite his initial shyness, Nerdanel noticed that he was extremely talkative when listened to. Her heart warmed a little, and she found herself dreaming of the day when she could have one of her own. Even two perhaps, or three.

The two continued their work, chatting lightheartedly about this and that. Arvo wanted to know what Nerdanel’s favourite thing to do was, so she told him about her sculpting, promising to show him some of her pieces someday. Time passed, and they barely noticed the room slowly getting darker as the light of Laurelin faded and the faint, silvery glow of Telperion began to take its place.

Then the door suddenly burst open and Fëanáro walked in, still in his travelling cloak and clearly just returned. Nerdanel looked up, startled, before smiling widely.

“You’re back!”

“We just returned,” Fëanáro replied, sinking down beside her and kissing her forehead. “I went looking for you, but you were nowhere to be found. I must have done three laps of the palace!”

Nerdanel smiled brightly, smoothing his windswept hair. “I have been spending some time with your brother. We must have lost track of the time.”

Fëanáro then noticed Arvo for the first time, eyes narrowing a little as he took in the almost completed puzzle and array of stuffed toys.

“Oh good heavens,” he groaned. “He hasn’t roped you into this, has he? I’m so sorry. Aro, go away.”

Arafinwë’s face fell, and he murmured a soft “sorry, brother” and started to gather his puzzle pieces up. Nerdanel scooted over to Arvo and wrapped her arms around him, giving F��anor a stern look.

“Oh no, don’t be mean! He hasn’t roped me into anything, I was very glad for his company. We had a lovely time, didn’t we?”

Arvo nodded, feeling a little pleased that Nerdanel had stood up to his brother. Few ever did. Fëanáro simply huffed.

“Well that’s charming, but I think it’s time for bed now, isn’t it? Go on, go find your mother.”

Arvo gathered his toys into his arms, murmured a goodnight to Nerdanel and shuffled out of the room. Nerdanel sighed.

“He is very sweet, you know. And he tries so hard to please everybody.”

“So he would have you believe,” Fëanor muttered.

Nerdanel grimaced, but decided not to pursue the matter right at this moment, sensing that there wasn’t much use. She knew Fëanáro’s family was complicated. She wasn’t going to dig into it in the days before their wedding. Instead, she changed the subject.

“How is the King? Did everything go as planned?”

Fëanáro’s face softened, and he sat down beside Nerdanel and took hold of her hands.

“It did. I am sorry that I didn’t take you...it is a long journey, and not a pleasant one. The gardens where she lies are not a joyful place. But I shall bring you someday, if you still wish it.”

“I do.” 

Nerdanel looked at her betrothed, pained to see the grief that he still carried. She wished she could make it all go away. And yet in the moments when they were together, laughing, exploring, learning, or simply watching the stars in silence...in those moments, nothing existed but the two of them. They were unburdened, simply two young Eldar marvelling at the beauty of the world.

Nerdanel leaned in and pressed her lips against Fëanáro’s, and she felt his hands in her hair, drawing her closer. In that moment she sent up a silent prayer to Varda, asking that they could remain in their little world, free of any burdens, for as long as possible.