#the ending was not the direction i had planned

[sweetdispatch]

The card - Q. Hughes

6 days of kinkmas

pairing: Quinn Hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: Quinn and his girlfriend got into argument which led him to teach her manners

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), safeword, dom!quinn, oral (f and m receiving), dacryphilia, slapping, orgasm denial

words: 1.8k

note: final day of kinkmas is here! but i have a surprise for 24th👀

---

Quinn, as a captain, was organising a Christmas party for his team. He needed your help but you were giving him a cold shoulder. A day earlier you two got into an argument and you didn’t want to forget this without apologies from him. You felt offended by his words and how low he thinks about you. As much as you wanted to help him, you didn’t want to give him satisfaction. 

“All I’m saying is that it would be nice if you would tell me about this party at least a week earlier. Not day before” You sighed, trying to explain to him why you were mad.

“You don’t do anything so what’s the issue that I told you this now?” 

“What is this supposed to mean?” His comment made you furrow yours eyebrows. 

“You’re sitting at home the whole day doing nothing. It shouldn’t make a difference that I told you now” He shrugged and you looked at him, shocked at the words he just said to you. You left the living room and went to the bedroom. 

This was yesterday and the two of you haven’t spoken since then. You had nothing to tell him because Quinn is the wrong one. If he thinks that you’re doing nothing, that’s exactly what you decided to do. You saw that he was struggling with preparing meals and cleaning at the same time but you were too stubborn to help him. 

“Could you help me with the cake? You're a much better baker than I am” He asked you politely when he saw you getting water from the fridge, but you hadn’t responded. You went back to the bathroom to do your makeup and acted like you hadn't heard anything. 

Quinn was furious at you. He couldn’t understand why you’re acting this way. In his mind, he hadn’t said anything wrong and you were the one who’s making a big deal of your conversation. He decided to let it slip for now, but after the party, he knew he’ll teach you manners. 

The party was going smoothly. You two acted like a loving couple around his teammates while you hadn’t sorted out the argument. You were chatting with other girlfriends when Quinn was standing with the boys near the kitchen island. One of the girls went to grab a drink and interrupted his conversation. 

“You’re a dick Quinn” She said and the boys looked at her. “You’re a dick for telling Y/N that she’s not doing anything in the house”

“Excuse me?” Quinn was taken aback by her words.

“She told us about your argument. How could you say this to her when she’s making everything so you could have a better life” She answered him and left. She sat on the couch and Quinn felt humiliated. 

The boys were chirping at him about this situation and he got even more mad at you. He started thinking about his plan to punish you for what just happened. You were completely unaware of the fact that one of the girls confronted Quinn and enjoyed the party. He could see you laughing from afar but he knew that you won’t be laughing when the two of you will be home alone. 

The party ended around midnight. When you closed the door after the last guests left, you sighed. All you wanted was to take off your makeup and get changed into something more comfortable. You started going to the bathroom when you heard Quinn. 

“Living room. Now” His voice didn’t leave a space for argument. You followed into the room and saw his furious face expression. “You think it’s funny to tell everyone about our conversation? You think this was nice when one of the girls came and called me a dick in front of others?” 

You were shocked. Yes, you told other girls about your argument but you never thought that they would direct this to him. You didn’t know what to say so you just stood there, waiting for his next move. 

“I’m using the card today” You froze hearing it. You completely forgot that a couple months ago you gave him a “card” that meant that he can use you however he wants and do whatever he wants. “You’re under my control and have nothing to say unless it’s a safeword, which is…?” He asked you to be sure you remember. 

“Sunflower” 

“Good, now I want you naked in the bedroom. Hands on your sides and no touching” 

You were turned on by the idea because sex with Quinn was always insane and you were curious what he’s gonna do to you. You took off your dress and threw it on the ground. You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come into the room. You trusted Quinn with your life and you knew that he would never hurt you but something in his voice made you nervous. You’ve been so caught up with your thoughts that you haven’t heard when he entered the room. He was standing only in his underwear. His voice brought you back from your trance. 

“Knees” You listened to him and positioned yourself in front of him. He was caressing your hair and tucked them behind your ear. “We could have a nice night but you had to run with your mouth. I think we need to put it into better use now. You already said too much” 

In a quick move, Quinn took off his underwear and you saw his hard dick. By instinct, you grabbed his dick and started playing with his length. He wasn’t happy with this and pulled your hair roughly so you could face him. 

“I said mouth. Don’t you dare to disobey me because it will end up even worse for you” You nodded and opened your mouth letting him put his dick inside. 

Quinn’s moves were rough. He was pushing his cock into your mouth without any mercy. You were gagging around him but this didn’t stop him. It turned him even more. You could feel the tip of his dick hitting your throat. Tears were spilling from your eyes and he laughed at the sight. Before he could cum in your mouth, he took out his dick. 

“Lay in the bed. Legs wide open” You do what he told you to. He kneeled in front of your pussy and started eating you out. “So wet and I’ve barely done anything” He chuckled and returned to licking your clit. 

Quinn pulled his fingers into your pussy and you moaned loudly. You felt incredible with his tongue on your clit. He could feel that you’re close to your orgasm but he stopped. You looked at him but he didn’t say anything. Only grabbed your hips and threw your body around. You were lying on your stomach when you heard.

“Ass up, face down” You positioned yourself and waited when you felt the first slap on your ass. You screamed by surprise not expecting this. “Next time you’ll want to act like a brat, remember how it feels” 

Quinn spanked you four more times. The pain became a pleasure for you and when the last spank laid, you moaned. He looked at your red ass for a couple seconds. He did this on purpose so you don’t know what he’s gonna do next. The next thing you felt was his dick deep buried inside of you. 

You were a mess under him. It felt so good when Quinn was fucking you roughly. You grabbed the sheet trying to find balance but with each thrust you were falling apart. It didn’t take him long enough to bring you close to your release. When he felt your muscles tightening around him, he pulled out. It was the second time when he didn’t let you cum.

“You’re not gonna cum until I say so” He stated and laid another spank on you. 

“Please Quinn, I need it” You begged him.

“Please Quinn, I need it” He mocked you. “You, my sweet girl don’t have anything to say” 

He thrusted into you again, this time you moaned loudly. He was keeping a hard pace and you went with your hand to touch yourself. Before you could do it, Quinn grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on your back. He did the same with your other hand. Now, you were totally at his mercy. Quinn was keeping your hands behind your back, still fucking into you. You were moaning and begging him to let you cum but he didn’t let you. Again, he pulled out of you and you cried. 

“I am gonna decide when you gonna cum, not you” He said not bothered by your tears.

Quinn threw you again and you were again on your back. He towered over you and thrusted into you again. You moaned but now, he shut you up with a kiss. It was the first time you tasted his lips today. His hand went to circulate your pussy and you started feeling overwhelmed. Other hand, I went to play with your boobs. This was all too much for you. All the touches, teasing and three denial orgasms. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sunflower” You said repeatedly, each time quieter from another.

Quinn took his dick out of you and panicked. He knew that he fucked up because you never used it before. He pulled you into a hug and started caressing your back. 

“Shh, you did so well. You’re safe” He was whispering into your ear and you started crying into his shoulder. It was breaking his heart knowing that he’s the reason you’re crying. “I’m so sorry baby, tell me what I can do to make you feel better” 

“Just hold me please” Your voice was breaking at each word. Quinn hugged you tighter and let you calm down. After a couple of minutes, you spoke again. “Can we take a bath and forget about it?” 

“Yes and no” You looked at him. His thumb wiped your tears. “We can take a bath but we have to talk about what happened. I need to know what exactly happened to push you to say this word. And don’t you even think that’s embarrassing. That’s why we have the word. To use it when it’s too much” He placed a kiss on your forehead. 

Quinn raised you and went into a bathroom to prepare your bath so you could relax. He stayed by your side all the time, reassuming you that everything’s fine and you’re safe. You appreciated it that he didn’t leave you alone to deal with this but wanted to help you. When you were ready to leave, again he raised you and gently dressed you up in his shirt and laid you on bed. 

“We don’t have to talk about this now but tomorrow okay?” You nodded and Quinn pecked your lips. “Goodnight babe, I love you and I’m sorry for today… and yesterday” 

“Stop, we’ll talk about everything tomorrow, now let’s just sleep… I love you” You curled into his chest.

[punkshort]

Red Lace & Holiday Cheer

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: (ex)pornstar!joel miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering, reader wears lingerie

WC: 4K

Roommates Masterlist

The bar was loud.

It was three days before Christmas. Students on break from college had come home to visit their families for the holidays but the first chance they got, they made plans to connect with friends they hadn't seen since summer. The entire street was packed with twenty-something year olds, every bar was filled to the brim, including the one Joel owned.

You had helped him decorate it for the holidays just two weeks prior. A small Christmas tree with chunky, multi-colored lights sat in the front. Twinkling white lights framed each large window and a garland was wrapped around the door. You even managed to find a spot for a couple large wreaths above the bar.

From your spot on the dance floor with Maria, you could just barely see Tommy's head. He was pouring drinks as fast as possible, hardly giving himself a chance to breathe. Surprisingly, Joel was no where to be found. If you had to guess, he was either bringing up a keg or doing his rounds on the floor, checking in with patrons and seeing if they needed anything while also keeping an eye out for trouble makers.

He had really grown into the role as a bar owner. It seemed like the perfect fit after he had quit the adult film industry. Not only was he his own boss, but he got to work with his brother. Your only complaint was the long nights, although you and Maria tried to frequent the bar at least once a week to see them while they worked. Typically, there was plenty of time to talk, but the week of Christmas had the bar feeling like more of a nightclub.

"Where's Joel?" Maria shouted over the music. You fanned your sweaty chest with your hand and scanned the crowded room.

"I don't know! Don't think I've seen him all night!" you yelled back. You checked the time and frowned. You always saw him at least once, even when it's busy, before midnight. He always sought you out, no matter what. You turned back to Maria with a look of concern.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find him!"

She nodded and gave you a thumbs up before turning her back, still swaying along with the music.

You pushed your way through the crowd, making a face when drunk frat boys or some familiar looking locals who were trying their luck with the college girls accidentally bumped into you. After what felt like an eternity of almost getting beer sloshed down your bright red dress from clueless patrons, you finally bellied up to the bar. You leaned over the edge of the wood, catching Tommy's eye. He nodded in your direction and you sat back on your heels as you waited for him to finish up at the other end of the bar.

"What you need, sugar?" Tommy yelled over the noise. Your gaze flickered down to his cheesy Christmas shirt and grinned.

"Is that thing getting you any extra tips?"

He shook his head and you laughed. "Nah, but it's fun. Tryin' to get into the spirit!"

"It was Maria's idea, wasn't it?" you yelled.

"Hundred percent!" he shouted back. You heard others off to your right trying to get his attention so you cut to the chase.

"Where's Joel?"

"Office! He was on the phone with some vendor last I saw 'em."

You nodded and shot him a thumbs up before you began your second journey, although mercifully it was shorter. His office was just down a short hallway behind the bar. Still, the crowd was thickest and rowdiest right where you were trying to walk. You had almost made it unscathed when you heard a curse and felt a splash of some cold liquid down your arm.

"Shit!" you exclaimed. You began to flick your arm of any excess when a young man's voice shouted out to you.

"I'm sorry!" he slurred, but when you looked up and your eyes locked, a slow smirk stretched across his face. He couldn't have been more than twenty-two, surrounded by his buddies who were giving him little shoves in your direction. He took a few steps forward and held out his hand.

"I'm Chris," he offered. "Lemme buy you a drink, make it up to you."

His eyes slithered up and down your body, clearly appreciating the short red Christmas dress you had chosen to wear that night.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," you said, giving him a wave and turning back towards the bar. He tapped your shoulder and you swiveled around.

"C'mon, it's the least I could do. Almost ruined that gorgeous dress of yours," he tried while licking his lips.

You sighed and crossed your arms.

"I'm dating the guy who owns this place. I can drink for free," you snapped, patience growing thin when you added, "And have anyone thrown out."

Chris whistled and rose his hands in defeat.

"Alright, suit yourself."

He backed away towards his friends and you made quick work of pushing through the remaining crowd to get back behind the bar. The moment you stepped foot in the small hallway, it already felt calmer. You sashayed a little drunkenly past the breakroom and employee bathroom before stopping at the closed door at the end of the hall that had a stocking hanging from it with Joel's name painted in glitter. With excitement tingling under your skin, you rapped your knuckles softly against the wood and pressed your ear against the door.

"It's open!"

The old door squeaked on its hinges when you opened it and slipped inside, smiling when you saw Joel hunched over his desk, scribbling something on an invoice. His office wasn't much to look at; dingy old laminate floors, a desk that looked like it was from the seventies, two tall file cabinets that were overflowing and shoved in a corner, and one measly light above your head that had one bulb burnt out. But it was peaceful. It was quiet. And by that point, it reminded you of Joel. His cologne hung in the air, even when he hadn't been in the room for hours. On top of one filing cabinet was a decorative Christmas tree and on the back of his door was a wreath, both of which you put in there when he wasn't paying attention.

He finally looked up and you saw the tension instantly drain from his face when he saw it was you.

"Hey," he said softly, dropping his pen so he could stand to greet you, chair groaning from the loss. He rounded the desk and pulled you into his arms. Your mouths sought each other out like magnets and you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck with a contented sigh when you finally felt his lips on you once again.

"Where have you been?" you pouted, gazing up at him while still hanging around his neck. His hands flattened against your back, the material of your dress bunching a little and exposing your legs even more.

"Been busy workin'. Sorry, darlin'. Lost track of time," he told you, but his eyes were drifting down your dress. "You been here this whole time wearin' this thing?"

"What? You don't like it?" you teased.

Joel scoffed and shook his head. "Like it a little too much. What's the occasion?" He finally dragged his eyes back up to meet yours.

"The occasion is it's Christmas," you said while your fingers began to fiddle with the short hairs on the back of his neck.

"Christmas ain't for a few more days."

"Well, maybe I wanted to give you your gift early," you smirked. Joel groaned in the back of his throat and pulled you closer so your body was pressed tightly against his. You began to pepper kisses along his neck, pausing when you reached his pulse to whisper, "Unless, that is, you're too busy."

"Lock the fuckin' door," he said lowly. A shiver rolled down your spine and you spun out of his hold to do exactly as he asked.

"Can't just wait, huh?" Joel scolded while he undid his belt and dropped it to the floor. You bit your lip, heart skipping excitedly in your chest as you backed up towards his desk. You stopped when you felt the edge press into the backs of your thighs and grinned.

"Sorry. I just thought you'd really want to open it now." You reached one arm behind you and slowly tugged at your zipper. Joel's eyes darted to lock onto the movement while his hands worked on opening his pants. You could tell he was loving every second of your little show. His lips were parted, breath coming in short pants, and his neck was already growing flush.

When your dress felt loose, you knew you reached the end of the zipper. Your chest heaved with anticipation before finally wiggling out of your dress and letting it fall to your feet.

You weren't lying. You really did have something for him under your clothes, although scraps of material like a see-through red teddy with a plunging neckline was difficult to define as anything substantial.

His eyes immediately bugged out of his head.

"Oh, Christ," he choked out. You giggled, pleased to have taken him by surprise. You hardly ever had the upper hand in the bedroom, not with the experience he brought by being an ex-pornstar, but on that day, you did.

His face paled when he saw your body in that teddy. Well, considering how much skin he could actually see through it, it hardly felt like you were wearing much at all, but Joel didn't seem to see it that way. He was absolutely hypnotized, completely unable to look away. His eyes greedily raked over every inch of you and you smiled to yourself when you realized he hadn't even yet noticed the panties you were wearing were crotchless.

"You like it?" you asked when his gawking had gone on long enough. You twirled so he could see the back, his throat bobbing when he saw the way your ass was exposed in your barely there panties. Joel forced his eyes up when you stood before him expectantly, feeling so excited and nervous that you had to bounce from foot to foot.

"You look beautiful," he finally whispered. You grinned and reached out both hands for him, laughing a little when he stumbled over his own feet to join you. As thrilled as you were to throw Joel off his game, it incited something deep within you when he took control again. He crowded you against his desk and dragged his hands fucking everywhere. Down your arms, over your stomach, across your back, feeling the lacy material under his big hands. And only when one hand cupped your breast and the other reached down to squeeze your ass did your own breath get stolen away.

"You're a bad girl," he murmured against the shell of your ear. Your eyelids fluttered closed as heat pooled between your legs, torturous and aching. "Wearin' this all night while I sat back here fightin' on the phone 'bout goddamn shipping rates?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth but it quickly melted into a gasp when his teeth pinched your skin, right under your ear.

"Joel," you moaned his name, tipping your head back while his mouth dragged down the column of your throat. You reached between your bodies, fingers searching for the inevitable bulge you knew you would find, and smiling to yourself when you felt his cock jump under your touch.

"Gonna let me fuck you?" you heard him ask. His lips trailed across your collarbone to begin their ascent up the opposite side of your neck. "Right here? In the back of a dirty bar?"

"I'd let you fuck me anywhere," you rasped, hopping up onto his desk and spreading your legs. He stepped between your knees, face buried against your throat and hips pressing stubbornly against your center as he continued to leave red marks across your chest and neck. He chuckled, the vibration from his voice sending shockwaves from your pulse point to the bottom of your stomach.

"Gonna hold you to that one day."

You were in a lust filled haze, completely absorbed with the way Joel kissed you, deep and messy and urgent, to notice when his hand traveled lower. His fingertips grazed between your legs, right where a thin strip of fabric should have been, but to his shock and delight, found nothing except your bare, leaking pussy.

"Fuck me," he groaned, leaning back to get a good look. He swiped his thumb through your slit and you whimpered, causing his dark eyes to snap up to yours with a deadly smirk.

"You liked this, huh?" His fingers spread your folds while your arms began to shake, propped up behind you and ready to collapse. "You liked dancin' around in that short dress, knowin' this soft little pussy was naked under there, waitin' for me to fuck her?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. Not a single word could be formed in that moment when his middle finger prodded at your opening, testing you, before sinking inside. You tossed your head back with a shaky moan and spread your legs wider, encouraging him to continue, to give you more.

You could only imagine how you looked in that moment; elbows holding you up with your head hanging back between your shoulders in bliss, legs spread wide while wearing slutty Christmas lingerie across his desk as music thumped steadily through the walls. However it looked, though, was worth the hungry way Joel stared down at you with his hand working slowly between your thighs, one thick finger curling but purposely not touching the spot that made you come undone.

Your hips wiggled as you tried to chase his hand, desperate for him to give you what you needed, but he held you down, stilling your movements.

"Quit it."

"Joel," you whined, but he shook his head.

"This is my gift, remember?" he tutted.

He pulled out his finger and you huffed, frustrated. With heavy lidded eyes, you watched him pop the finger that was just inside of you into his mouth. He made a satisfied noise while reaching inside his pants. The second he pulled out his cock, your eyes drifted down and watched as he slowly stroked himself up and down.

You should have been used to him by then, but it never failed to send a wave of nerves through you when you saw the sheer size of him, something that served him very well in his old career and now something only you benefitted from.

One of his hands planted itself at your hip when he came to stand between your legs and he began to drag the tip of his cock through your arousal. You sighed and went to lay down flat across his desk, but he stopped you.

"Nuh uh. Want you to watch," he muttered. You caught his eye and your heart flipped in your chest at the look he gave you. You swallowed tightly and gave him a brief nod, confirming you would do as he asked. Then and only then did he drop his gaze to between your legs, spreading your lips with his thumbs to make room for the thick head of his cock to rest at your opening.

You watched together as he pressed forward ever so slightly, just barely kissing your pussy before pulling back entirely. He did it again and when he shifted back a second time, you gave him a pathetic little whine. His eyes darted back up to yours and he grinned.

"Be patient."

"C'mon, Joel... it's Christmas," you pouted. He chuckled, his stern facade fading, and shook his head.

"Alright," he breathed, and half a second later jut his hips forward, feeding you half his length in one pass. You gasped sharply and fell backwards onto his desk, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

He cursed under his breath, dragging himself back until just his tip remained sheathed inside you, then pushed forward once again, but that time he gave you every devastating inch of his impressive cock. You both gasped, sucking all the air out of the room with your heavy, quick panting as you each struggled to adjust.

"Goddamn," he murmured. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mouth agape as you focused on the stretch, but you pried them open so you could confirm he was just as wrecked as you felt.

"Oh, honey, you look fuckin' beautiful like this." His eyes were fixated on where you were connected, where red lace framed your exposed cunt. His dark eyes snapped up to yours when he very seriously added, "We're gonna get alotta use out of this gift, baby."

"That was the idea," you giggled breathlessly. There was a loud cheer through the walls when the song changed. It sounded like a bunch of guys right up against the bar, just twenty or thirty feet away who had no idea you were about to get fucked within an inch of your life.

"Good song," Joel said casually. He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly began to rock his hips. Your mind went quiet, not a single thought drifting through your head except for how good it felt when he bottomed out inside you.

He was gentle at first. He knew he was alot to take so he always started with shallow thrusts, paying close attention to your cues. When your thighs relaxed and your breathing evened out, that was when he began to give it to you faster. Harder. Deeper. It was only a few minutes until his hips slammed into yours so forcefully that it had your back arching and your hand scrambling to hold onto the edge of the desk above you.

"Fuck - fuck - fuck," he huffed, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips. You whined and squirmed across the desk, trying to catch your breath. One of Joel's hands pressed flat against the desk for leverage, the other roughly gripped your waist to hold you steady, and his eyes remained fixated on the way your body stretched to accommodate his size. Every single time, it amazed him.

A loud knock came from the door. Your eyes locked, his hips slowed, and you shook your head. You mouthed the word don't. He made a face but acquiesced, then continued to fuck you, just slower and quieter. A second loud knock came and an annoyed Tommy yelled out, "Joel? C'mon, man, we need more Coors."

"Have fuckin' Steve do it, I'm busy!" he shouted back. You scowled then stifled a moan when he ground himself against you, rubbing your clit with the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft.

"Steve's on break!"

Joel snarled and reared back, grabbing the underside of both your knees and tugging you close.

"Gimme five minutes!" he yelled, voice only slightly giving away your compromising position when it cracked near the end of his sentence.

"Five?" you whispered with a disappointed look.

"Ten! Ten minutes!"

Finally you heard Tommy grumble under his breath and retreat back down the hall.

"I'll make you come in five minutes," Joel panted with a cocky grin. He began to pummel into you harder once again, picking up right where he left off. "Wanted to bend you over and come all over that perfect ass, but I'll save that for next time."

You groaned and tilted your chin to the ceiling as you felt that familiar tightness begin to pull low in your belly. Joel shifted, adjusting the way he was standing between your legs, and you cried out when the tip of his cock began to stroke against that spot that had you seeing stars. Blindly, you reached out to hold onto something, but only ended up scattering unpaid invoices and receipts onto the floor.

Words failed you. Heat flared deep inside, bright hot flames roaring to life in mere seconds that had your muscles going rigid and your spine curling off the desktop. There was no warning. There was nothing you could do except give into the intense pleasure as you choked on your words.

"Oh, shit," Joel grunted, hand reaching between you to rub firm circles over your clit. "S-shit, you're gonna come," he gasped right as your cunt clamped down around him. You wailed out a broken version of his name, legs trembling around his waist. He quickly fell forward, his body covering yours, and your lips connected in messy, wild kisses. Seconds later and with a deep groan echoing inside your mouth, Joel came, filling you with his thick, hot release until his cock stopped twitching and a shudder shot through his entire body.

You whimpered Joel's name and that was when he realized you were shaking violently. With his chest still heaving, he propped himself onto his elbows and slid his cock from between your legs before gathering you up in his arms and holding you close, enveloping you with his warmth.

"I got you," he murmured over and over into your hair. You nodded weakly, head still buzzing and hands still shaking. Slowly, your eyes reopened. Your pulse began to slow and your breaths grew deeper each time you pulled in air. You nuzzled your face into his shoulder, sighing from the comforting strokes of his hand over your back.

"You okay?" he asked after a few quiet minutes. You nodded and took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne mixing with his deodorant calming your frayed nerves even more.

"That was... intense," you whispered, lips searching for his throat. Joel continued to soothingly rub your back.

"You did so good, baby."

You smiled and nipped gently at his skin. "Did you enjoy your present?"

Joel's chest rumbled with a soft chuckle before he responded.

"This little number was a beautiful gift, but I don't need any of it, you know that, right?" he asked. "All I want is you."

"Are you saying that all you want for Christmas is... me?" You grinned when you leaned back to look up at him hazily. Joel laughed at your corny joke and cupped your face with both his hands to pull you in for a tender kiss.

"Yeah," he murmured against your lips. "Man can't ask for much else when he's already got everythin' he needs in one perfect little package."

You wrapped your arms around his neck as your cheeks warmed from his compliment. "I love you," you told him earnestly. Every time he heard those words, it made him smile.

"I love you, too."

Right when he leaned down for another kiss, a loud knock cracked against the door.

"Joel! The Coors!"

"God-fuckin'-" Joel grumbled before shouting, "I'm comin' right now! Jesus Christ!"

His eyes found yours and he gave you an apologetic look.

"You gonna be alright? Just gimme a few minutes-"

"I'm good," you told him with a firm nod, then gave his chest a little shove, pushing him towards the door. "Go. You have a bar to run."

He tucked himself back into his pants with a hiss and swiveled around before locating a box of tissues and handing them to you.

"Lock the door after I leave. This," he dragged his finger up and down in the air, indicating your skimpy lingerie, "is just for me to see."

"Yes, sir," you giggled with your legs still dangling over the edge of his desk. He shook his head in disbelief and fixed his shirt before disappearing out into the hallway.

Slowly, you cleaned yourself up as best you could and fixed the teddy before slipping your dress back on, concealing your little secret once again. You had your hand on the doorknob, poised to leave, when a thought occurred to you. Quickly, you shimmied your panties down your legs and hurried behind his desk to drop them in one of his drawers. You smiled proudly to yourself and headed back towards the door, already planning what new set you should surprise him with for Valentine's Day.

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[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[kiwriteswords]

LEts see a hallmark-y meet cute Hotch and Readr christmas drabble

Let your heart be light [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1.3k|| 

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, Hotch feeling like a bad parent, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Actual tooth-rotting Fluff, Stranded at the airport, alcohol tw, possibly ooc for Hotch at the end but I wanted to add fluff.

Sypnosis: Amid a holiday snowstorm, Aaron Hotchner and a fellow stranded traveler, you, find unexpected camaraderie at an airport bar

The bustling atmosphere of the commercial airport was the last place Aaron Hotchner wanted to find himself, especially so close to the holidays. The snowstorm outside raged with a fury, mirroring the frustration bubbling within him and his team. Flights were canceled left and right--starting with the private jet, announcements blaring over the loudspeakers only added to the cacophony, and families and travelers alike were stranded—much like the BAU.

Rossi, ever the optimist or perhaps just desperate for a distraction, led the way through the crowded terminals. “If we’re going to be stuck with the general population, we might as well live it up,” he declared, guiding the team—JJ, Emily, Derek, Spencer, and a reluctant Hotch—toward the airport bar.

The bar was a loud, colorful oasis amid the sea of frustrated passengers. The team found a corner where they could at least hear each other over the din. Hotch sat with them, his mind a thousand miles away with Jack, hoping he wouldn’t be too disappointed if Daddy missed Christmas morning.

“You look like someone stole your last cookie, Hotch,” Derek teased, nudging him slightly with his elbow.

Hotch managed a tight-lipped smile. “Just thinking about Jack,” he admitted, scanning the room distractedly. That’s when he noticed you. You were sitting alone at the bar, your posture relaxed despite the chaos, sipping on a drink and occasionally glancing at your phone.

Unexpectedly, a bartender approached him with a glass, setting it down in front of him. “Compliments of the lady over at the bar,” the bartender said, nodding in your direction.

Hotch’s eyes widened slightly, following the bartender’s gesture back to you. The team had noticed the exchange too, their teasing grins growing wider.

“She’s beautiful, Hotch. And it looks like she thinks you could use some company,” Emily commented, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You should go say hi,” JJ added, her voice warm and encouraging.

Hotch hesitated, his usual reservations about such situations wrestling with the unexpected kindness you’d shown. “She probably just feels sorry for the lonely guy in a suit,” he muttered.

“Or maybe she recognizes a handsome man when she sees one. Go on, Aaron,” Rossi pushed, not letting Hotch’s self-doubt win.

With a deep breath, Hotch stood and made his way over to you. He could feel the eyes of his team on his back, their whispers barely masked by their attempts to not make it obvious they were watching.

As he approached, you looked up, your eyes meeting his. “Hi,” he started, feeling unusually out of his element. “I wanted to thank you for the drink.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made the corners of your eyes crinkle slightly. “You looked more down and out than me, so I figured you could use it more,” you replied, your tone light and friendly.

Hotch chuckled softly, the sound more relaxed than he felt. “That’s very kind of you. Are you also stranded?”

“Yeah, was heading home for Christmas, but it looks like I’m spending it with airport cocktails instead,” you said, gesturing to the chaos outside the window where snow continued to blanket the runway.

“What about you? Any plans ruined by this storm?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, inviting him to share more.

Hotch took a sip of the drink you’d sent him, finding comfort in the simple act. “Trying to get home to my son. He’s expecting Santa and his dad, not necessarily in that order.”

Your expression softened. “He’s lucky to have a dad rushing to get back to him. I’m sure he’ll understand, though. Sometimes things are out of our control.”

Hotch nodded, feeling the truth in your words. He glanced back at the bar where his team was pretending not to watch them. “My team seems to think I should thank you more properly for the drink. They’re... supportive like that.”

Laughing, you glanced over his shoulder at the group waving subtly. “They seem like a good bunch. How about we join forces and make the best of this holiday delay?” you suggested with a playful grin.

Hotch couldn’t help but smile back, feeling an unexpected ease in your company. “That sounds like a plan,” he agreed, his voice carrying a hint of relief.

Together, you walked over to the bar where the team eagerly made space for both of you. Rossi, always quick to turn a stranger into a friend, raised his glass in a welcoming toast. "To unexpected Christmas companions!"

The evening rolled on with laughter and stories exchanged over rounds of drinks. Hotch found himself increasingly drawn to your sense of humor and the easy way you interacted with his team. You shared tales of your own holiday mishaps from previous years, each story more engaging than the last. Hotch reciprocated with anecdotes of his own, each glimpse into his life making you laugh and lean in closer.

As the night deepened and the crowd thinned, you and Hotch found yourselves lingering at the bar long after the others had decided to find a hotel for the night. The din of the airport had mellowed to a soft murmur, and the storm outside seemed less severe when viewed from the warm glow of the bar.

“You know, I never thought I’d find myself hoping a flight would get delayed longer,” Hotch confessed, his eyes locked on yours. “But I’m glad I did tonight.”

You smiled, the light catching your eyes in a way that made his heart skip a beat. “I guess some Christmas surprises come in unexpected packages,” you quipped, nudging his hand with yours on the bar top.

Hotch found himself reaching out, his hand covering yours. “This is definitely one surprise I'm thankful for,” he said, his voice lower now, more intimate.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you intertwined your fingers with his, the simple act charged with an unspoken promise. “Aaron, if we’re stuck here, might as well make the most of it, right? How about we go for a walk? It might be nice to see the snow without a window between us.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second—thinking of protocols and proprieties—but then he nodded. “Let’s do that.”

Wrapped up in borrowed airport scarves and coats, you walked together through the near-deserted terminals. The snow outside painted everything in shades of muted silver and white, and the world felt hushed, paused at your shared footsteps.

As you walked, Hotch found himself opening up about more than just work or his son. He talked about his hopes, his past holidays, and even his fears. You listened, offering thoughts and laughter in equal measure, pulling him out of his reserved shell.

Eventually, you stopped at a large window overlooking the tarmac, where the snow was piling up on empty jets. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? How something as simple as snow can change everything,” you mused, leaning against the glass.

“It is,” Hotch agreed, standing close enough to share warmth. He looked down at you, the fluorescent lights of the terminal casting shadows that played across your face. “You know, I think this is the most I’ve relaxed in a long time.”

“That’s what holidays are for, right? Even if they don’t go as planned,” you said, looking up at him with a smile that suggested so much more than casual conversation.

Hotch nodded, lost for a moment in the depth of your gaze. Then, almost without thinking, he leaned down, his voice a whisper. “May I?”

Your answer was to rise slightly on your toes, closing the distance, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tentative kiss that spoke of new beginnings and mutual understanding. It was a kiss that promised more, a kiss that acknowledged the snowstorm outside not as a barrier, but as a backdrop to something unexpected and just as beautiful.

As you both pulled back, breathless from the contact and the emotions it stirred, Hotch knew this Christmas would be one to remember, not for the plans that went awry, but for the unexpected gift of meeting someone who turned a delay into a moment worth savoring.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

[cressidagrey]

The moment I could see it - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times that Gianpiero Lambiase thinks that Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen are weirdly similar…and 1 time he is just happy that the two of them are no longer pining after each other. 

Warnings: 

GP's POV, mention of cancer, mention of parent's death

Author Notes: I am back to my old tricks...which means I write from the most random of POV's just because. (I once wrote a chapter from a dog's POV so like, GP doesn't even really count.

It was actually quite stupid, GP reflected drily, that in 4 years of knowing both Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen...he had never even thought that one day they would be in the same room at the same time.

Even after Ariel had gotten a job in Red Bull's PR department straight out of uni.

It was just...two very different parts of his life. Colliding. Right in front of him.

And it was pure coincidence in a way...namely a meeting where they wanted an opinion from the Social Media Team...and suddenly, there was Ariel Cane walking into the room, with a smile on her face.

And there was Max Verstappen. Staring at her. Completely stunned. 

GP found himself silently hoping that Max wouldn't start drooling or do something equally embarrassing.

GP couldn't suppress a silent laugh as he witnessed Max's reaction to Ariel's entrance. Max looked positively gobsmacked as he gaped at her. He couldn’t help but watch the whole thing with a lot of amusement as Max stared at Ariel utterly stunned. 

Max, who GP had seen progress from a reckless speed demon to a more mature driver, but now was completely frozen, staring at Ariel as if he had never seen a girl before.

GP wasn't the only one who was amused by his reaction. Granted, Ariel was a very pretty girl, but the way Max was staring made it seem like she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on.

He couldn't help but find the whole situation entertaining. Max was usually so confident and laid-back, but now he looked completely out of his depth. 

Meanwhile, Ariel was completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. She was simply smiling warmly at the meeting attendees, not realizing that Max was staring at her like a love sick puppy.

Gianpiero exchanged a glance with a couple of his colleagues, who were also trying to hide their amusement. Clearly, they found the whole situation just as amusing as he did. It was rare for Max to be rendered dumbfounded like this. 

The meeting continued, with Ariel providing some insights for the Social Media Team. However, it was clear that Max struggled to concentrate on anything but her. He shot furtive glances in her direction, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. Luckily for Max, the meeting came to an end not long after, and everyone began to leave the room. GP watched as Max lingered behind, seeming like he wanted to say something to Ariel.

GP stepped in, noticing how Max was still staring at Ariel with a dreamy expression. He couldn't help but rib the young man a bit.

"Don't even think about it, Verstappen," he said dryly, amused by the situation.

Max looked at him, caught in the act of openly ogling Ariel, and his cheeks colored a bright red. 

"I wasn't..." he protested weakly before trailing off. The denial sounded rather half-hearted. 

GP just raised an eyebrow, silently saying 'yeah, sure you weren't.' He knew Max well enough to be able to tell when he was interested in someone, and right now, his interest was painfully evident.

"Actually I was thinking about offering her a job," Max blurted out.

GP could just stare at him.  He definitely hadn't expected Max to say that.

"A job?" he repeated, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "What kind of job are you planning to offer her?"

He watched as Max shifted awkwardly, clearly having blurted out the words without fully thinking it through."Well, I fired Sadie...so I need a new personal assistant."

GP’s eyebrows rose even further as Max explained the situation. He couldn't help but be taken aback by his impulsivity.

"You fired Sadie and now you want to hire Ariel as your new personal assistant? Just like that?" he questioned incredulously.

"She's good at her job!" Max defended himself. "Better that...literally all the rest of the PR team I need to deal with on a daily basis."

GP had to acknowledge that Max had a point. The PR team could be...eccenctric, to say the least. And it was true that Ariel was good at her job.

"Alright, I'll give you that," he admitted. "Ariel is talented. But if you think that she is simply going to do what you tell her to do…you are wrong. She’ll eat you alive,” he said with some amusement. “Her brother is our Head of electrical engineering. Have you met him yet? Tall, Red head? Only manages to come to work with the same pair of shoes on both feet around 80% of time and is  well known for working 48 hour stretches?”

"If they can't get him to stop, they call his little sister...and you don't want to be on her bad side when that happens." 

Max shifted uncomfortably, clearly realising the implications of what Gianpiero was saying. Ariel Cane was not someone to be trifled with. 

GP took a moment to reflect on the situation. Max, with his habit of getting into trouble, wanted to hire a young woman who was known for her no-bullshit, no-nonsense attitude...

Yeah, this was shaping up to be a disaster in the making. And GP was going to have a front row seat

But he couldn't help feeling a slight sense of schadenfreude. Sitting back and watching this unfold was going to be entertaining, in a chaotic and amusing kind of way. 

He didn't actually think, Max was going to go through with it.

Until Ariel showed up in his office days later.

"Tell me about Max Verstappen," she said calmly as she sat down in front of his desk. "What kind of boss is he?"

His eyebrows rose. 

"Well, he's not exactly my boss..." GP began. "But Max is a good kid. He's a raer, through and through. A bit impulsive and a bit...reckless, but he's a good guy...mostly."

He paused for a moment, considering how to describe Max as a boss.

"As a boss, he's...demanding," he continued. "He has high expectations and he expects you to give 110% at all times. But he's also fair and if you do your job, he'll be the first to give you credit for it."

"You aren't actually thinking about taking his offer, are you?" he asked her bluntly, unable to keep his surprise out of his voice.

Max was the unpredictable one. Ariel…Ariel wasn’t. Ariel always did what was expected of her. 

He didn't want to discourage her if she was serious about the position, but he also had some strong opinions about the potential working relationship between her and Max.

"Max is...a handful," GP warned her. "He can be demanding, impulsive, and more than a bit reckless. As his personal assistant, you'd have to put up with a lot of things most people wouldn't even think of. Are you sure you want to get yourself into that kind of situation?"

Ariel cocked her head to the side. "I like a challenge," she said drily.

GP couldn't help but let out a low snort. That answer both reassured him as well as concerned him.

He had known that Ariel would see this as a challenge, and he had no doubt she was more than capable of handling Max and his…behavior. 

"You like a challenge, huh?" he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Well, Max Verstappen sure as hell will be your biggest challenge yet. The hours will be long, the stress will be high, and you'll have to deal with a hell of a lot of Max's...antics."

He paused for a moment, giving her a hard look. He wanted to make sure she knew exactly what she was getting into with this job.

"You're more than capable of handling Max, I have no doubt. But be prepared for the ride of your life if you take on this job. Max is a handful, and I have no doubt he'll push your buttons. He'll probably drive you insane,” he warned her. “Do you think you can handle that?”

GP watched her closely, studying her expression for any hint of uncertainty or doubt. He was a good judge of character and could usually tell if someone was putting on a brave face. But if he was being honest, he couldn't detect any hint of hesitation on Ariel’s face.

Max could be a force of nature, more than most people could handle.

"Just keep in mind," he added, allowing himself a small smile. "Max is a race car driver. He's used to living his life at lightning speed. You'll need to keep up if you want to keep him on track."

There was a small smile blooming on Ariel's face.

"Oh, I expect nothing less," she said simply.

[paradox-insanity]

Viktor stops short. He had had a quiet day planned - testing out his little boat that he had been tinkering with for several days on end, barely pausing to eat, sleep, or hydrate.

A flash of annoyance sparks through him. Another one of his sacred spaces of solitude, lost to the consecrated curse of shared knowledge. Then his more logical side comes online and he thinks,

What in the name of Janna.

The explosion of light should’ve been blinding, but it washed over him like a loving embrace, accompanied by the smell of cold metal and sparking wires.

There are two people at the epicentre of the blaze, dressed for climates never experienced in Piltover, and gasping for breath like oxygen cannot reach their bones.

Like Viktor gasps awake every night.

He makes his way down to the clearing cautiously, his prototype long forgotten. He’s ready to bolt, but he has never been able to turn away from someone who needed help.

He reaches the more level landing, rocks carved smooth over decades of floods and flow. He can see clearly that the two figures were an older woman, and a young boy. It soothes some of his deeply ingrained paranoias, the voice of his mother murmuring in his head to steer clear of older men, extensive tattoos or scarring, and blue uniforms.

He grips his crutch tighter as he calls out softly, “Hello? Are you alright?”

It’s not the best question. Viktor’s never alright when he’s gasping like that. But he doesn’t know what else to say.

The boy recovers faster, glancing up to Viktor and scrambling to put himself between the woman and Viktor. He’s clearly not from the Undercity, and clearly deeply afraid, despite the resolution in his stance. “Don’t- don’t come any closer!”

Viktor stops, nearly laughs at the notion someone would be afraid of him, weak and frail as he is. “Okay,” he says simply. “Are you hurt?”

Wide eyes blink rapidly, shot through with fear and disorientation. “Where are we? Where’s the mage?”

Viktor frowns. Maybe these people weren’t as low risk as he had estimated. “Mage?”

“Yes! He was- he was right here!”

“You were not right here.” Viktor points out not so helpfully.

“But- but it was real. We were trying to get to Piltover and it’s cold and then my mom fell and he came and did this thing with some symbols and his stick and there was light and then- and then-”

He’d worked himself into a haphazard panic, gasping for words and belief and Viktor couldn’t really stand it anymore. “It is okay! I believe you. Just, calm down, yes? Calm.”

The boy slumped. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do not know you. And I have no concrete proof to believe a stranger’s word,” Viktor confessed, slowly inching forward again.

His eyes lit up and he opened up his clenched fist to reveal… a piece of glass? “Look! He gave me this, it has one of the symbols he used!”

Viktor peers over, and there is, in fact, a carved symbol on it. It resembles nothing Viktor has seen in his mother’s physics notebooks, but it seems real enough for Viktor to believe that something happened, even if the flash of light had been all smoke and mirrors.

“Okay.” He says it simply, but it rings true in a way that resonates with the boy. Viktor glances over, and asks gently, “You said your mother collapsed. Is she alright?”

He gasps, the adrenaline rush that had surged to protect his mother from the stranger faded and he jumped to his mother’s side again.

“It was snowing and the cold. The cold got to her!”

“Alright, calm,” Viktor said as smoothly as he could. It confounds him how emphatically the boy displays his emotions - so clearly not from the Undercity. “We just need to warm her up then. Food and water. It will be alright.” He hopes he wasn’t putting himself in absolutely ridiculous amounts of danger. “Can you help her upright? Get the damp clothes off?”

The boy nodded furiously, jumping to follow Viktor’s direction. They roused his mother, and Viktor had a can of potable water that the boy vehemently refused to touch himself but passed on to his mother.

“I think that is all we can do here. I know an abandoned warehouse we can use for you both to recover.”

The boy looked up at Viktor with an intensity that made him mildly uncomfortable. “Thank you. You have helped so much and I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Viktor.”

He receives a blinding smile in return. “Jayce. Jayce Talis.”

They make their way to the warehouse, they get Ximena warmed up and they acquire some food for the stragglers.

When it’s far past time for the Talises to make their way topside, where they have an offshoot of their extended family awaiting their arrival, Jayce grabs onto Viktor and clings tight.

“Come with us,” he pleads, large amber eyes wide with hope.

Viktor huffs a laugh and returns the hug after a moment of hesitation. “I cannot. My mother and I are all we have. I cannot leave her. But there may come a day where I am able to visit.”

That day doesn’t come. Viktor will make his way to the academy many years later, fighting against enforcers trying to deny him access to the entrance exam, which he will ace anyway. He will break the record for nearly every academic honour in the academy - none that will ever be announced or advertised. He will become Heimerdinger’s prized assistant, will get a chance to start his own tiny lab. His mind will be coveted, his body deeply repulsive.

He will attempt to find the boy with amber eyes and vivacious dreams many times, and he will fail many times.

Until one fateful day, when an explosion will take a student housing building off the map, and put a youthful student on it.

So we know that in every timeline, Mage Viktor saved Jayce and gave him a rune, but do you think he experimented with where he dropped him off? Do you think in his efforts to save the world from himself, he tried to see what would happen if him and Jayce met sooner?

Do you think in one universe, kid Viktor was tinkering with his little boat when *poof* this sweet-eyed boy dressed in winter clothes appeared right in front of him?

[nemisuki]

Falling For You

Crush AU | You didn’t realize having a crush on your friendly classmate would lead to a competition on how to gain his attention. Lucky for you - he seems to have a favorite. 

᧔o᧓ || eijirou kirishima x f!reader, no manga spoilers, fluff, jealous reader, aged up to third years, dense kirishima, silly moments, kiri is popular bc he's just a lil guy fr, misunderstandings, happy ending, oneshot, 1.9k word count

Being friends with the redhead in your class was not for the weak.

It wasn't because he was troublesome whatsoever - if anything the guy was too nice.

Every time she tried to get some alone time with him, someone he knew would strike up a conversation!

Whether it be when they're walking down the hallways, waiting at the bus stop or even in the classroom.

He always had a friend around.

At first it didn't bother her, she knew he was a friendly guy, someone that's impossible to hate.

Anyone would want to be friends with Kirishima. So his inevitable popularity made sense.

But lately she's been feeling off.

A foreign emotion taking over her entire body.

It didn't take her long to realize what she felt for him - it only grew the more they hung out.

Her small crush fully blossomed during the winter. Maybe that's when the jealousy started. During their previous years of high school, the pair used to be inseparable.

But as of recently - that doesn't seem to be the case.

She doesn't blame him for spending less time with her, the amount of patrols always increased during the holidays.

He was constantly apologizing whenever they would have to reschedule their hangouts for the sake of his work study.

Y/N knew they'll be getting busy this time of year but she wasn't aware it would affect their bond this much.

She's barely hung out privately with him this week, but today she'll be the first to initiate plans.

With newfound motivation, she closes her locker door and looks around in search of a certain redhead.

To which she spots immediately, it wasn't hard to miss his unique hair color in the hallway.

At the view of him putting his books away, alone for now, her legs moved quickly - seeking this rare opportunity.

Shortening the distance with each step.

"Kiri" she mumbles softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention.

His head perks up at the sound of her voice, turning in her direction, recognition and warmth casting over his eyes.

A toothy smile that makes her heart flutter every time - forms on his face, "Oh hey Y/N! What's up!"

He carefully shuts his locker, his eyes never leaving her face as he teasingly pats her head, ruffling her hair a little.

Only making her more flustered by the minute.

Thank the gods he can be dense sometimes, or he would've found out about her feelings a long time ago.

"Ah nothing much... I just noticed you've been working hard on your internship with Fat Gum after school. So I wanted to make sure you aren't overworking yourself."

Her gaze softens, a hint of worry displayed in her eyes as she notices a small bandage on his cheek.

He seems to notice the shift in her expression and bends down slightly so they can be face to face, "Though I appreciate the concern - I assure you I'm fine!"

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With his other hand, he points to the bandage, letting out a small chuckle "And don't worry about this. Last night I was sparring with Tetsutetsu and he managed to do some damage. No biggie!"

At the sudden close contact, she can feel her cheeks instantly warm up, his laugh easing away all her worries like nothing.

"I-I see...." she stutters out, completely forgetting how to form a coherent sentence around him. Her eyes snapping away from him in a flash.

How could she look into his eyes in this state?!

He tilts his head, seemingly about to ask if she's alright, but is interrupted as some of his friends from another class approach him, three guys in particular whom she hasn’t met. 

"Hey Kirishima!"

The red head turns around at the sound of his name, a friendly grin reappearing on his face, "Oh hey guys!"

The trio of students begin chatting away with Kirishima, moving onto a topic Y/N wasn't too familiar with.

She fidgets awkwardly as she watches them exchange words, her eyes moving back and forth, listening to see if she can add any minor comment to the conversation but is ultimately left in the dark.

Kirishima seems to notice and quickly changes topics, "Ah sorry I should've introduced you! Guys this is Y/N!"

As he speaks, he slings an arm around her shoulder - a proud expression on his face.

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She doesn't know how much of this her heart can take.

The other guys politely smile and wave, giving her their names one by one but frankly... the only thing she can focus on right now is the close proximity between her and the redhead.

His body is so warm and comforting, the urge to melt into his embrace only heightens as time passes.

She's missed this.

"Hey kiri, you gonna come with us to the arcade again today or what?"

Huh...

Her gaze wanders to the girl who approached out of nowhere. The other guys greeting her casually as she smiles back.

They must be in the same friend group.

"Yeah sure! I don't have to patrol today so I'm game" Kirishima says, giving a small nod in response.

He retrieves his arm that was previously draped over Y/N, letting it rest at his side again.

"Great, c'mon let's go before it gets crowded!" the girl giggles, wrapping her hand around Kirishima's forearm - intending to pull him along.

Until she notices Y/N.

"Oh- hello, are you one of Kirishima's classmates?" she smiles, looking at Y/N with curiosity.

"Uh yeah" Y/N mumbles, her thoughts spiraling at the sight of this new face. She's never seen this other girl before.

And why is she holding Kirishima's arm so casually - even calling him Kiri.. are they close?

"Ah I see! Is she coming along too?" the girl asks Kirishima, letting go of his arm a second later.

"What do you say Y/N?" He smiles nonchalantly, as if unbothered by the other girl's previous actions.

Her heart no longer beats like before - with thrill or joy. But now aching at this new revelation.

Sensing something off, Kirishima's brows furrow with contemplation. Suddenly giving the group an apologetic smile, "Sorry guys but I just remembered I have something to do! I'll catch you guys next time, yeah?"

Not even waiting for a response, the redhead grabs Y/N's arm and pulls her along.

She’s stunned for a moment but follows his lead around the corner, into an empty classroom. 

Once inside the room, he lets go and tilts his head with a questioning look, "so you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me please."

A pout forms on his face at her attempt to dodge the question. His eyes pleading as he looks into her own.

Damn it, he's too cute.

"It's dumb..." she mumbles, looking at him - completely embarrassed.

"If it's making you sad then of course it isn't dumb" he says softly, gently resting his hand on her shoulder.

Her fingers twitch with anxiety, feeling like a bundle of nerves right now.

Seeing her in this state made him uneasy, he's never seen her act this way.

With his hand on her shoulder, he pulls her closer into his chest. Trapping her in his warm embrace as he soothingly rubs her back in small circles.

Her breath hitches as he holds her, a sensation she missed all too well.

All her worries seemed to vanish as his familiar scent surrounds her. There's something so comforting about his presence that keeps her calm.

"I-I'm jealous" she admits all of a sudden, deciding to be honest with him.

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Her skin burned with bashfulness, humiliation and shame.

His eyes widen at her words - in his arms she can feel his muscles tense in response, "Jealous? Of who?"

He pulls away slightly to get a good view of her face.

"Those friends of yours. That girl from earlier. Everyone who hangs out with you" she whispers, ashamed of her own feelings.

She couldn't look at him right now and decided to bury her head further into his chest, hiding away from the impending humiliation. 

He's at a complete loss for words.

"Because we haven't hung out as often? I'm sorry I know I've been busy. But then why did you say no earlier to the arcade-"

“That's because... I just want to be with you. Just us..."

Silence.

After a minute of no response, she hesitantly lifts her head up, gaining the courage to look him in the eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Kirishima is looking down at her, eyes full of disbelief, face completely red - a lighter hue of the color that compares to his hair.

"O-Oh I... wait don't look yet... agh... I didn't expect this" he mumbles, lifting a hand to cover the lower half of his face.

His eyes looked anywhere else but her.

A newfound spark of hope shines within the girl - he's blushing.

For some time both don’t say anything, not knowing how to go about this. Despite it being cold in this empty classroom, both of them are hot to the touch.

"You're free right now right?" he smiles down at her, giving the girl more reason to have a heart attack right then and there.

"Uh- yeah. Yes I am!" she says, practically brightening up at the idea.

A smile returning to her face with full force.

He begins laughing at her sudden shift in mood, "Then let's go! There's this bakery I've been dying to go to!"

He hurriedly takes her hand as they leave the classroom. Reminding her - just how much he cares.

But there was still one question that was in the back of her mind.

As they walk outside the gates of UA, she decides to ask, wanting to ease her conscience before she possibly goes insane. 

"Say Kiri.... about that girl earlier.." she starts off, looking up at him with hesitance.

"Yeah, what about her?" he hums, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

"Are you two close? It just looked like, um, you two we're dating or something" she reluctantly says, a small pout threatening to form at the mere thought.

He freezes in his tracks.

His head snapping in her direction, dismissively waving his hands around, "What?! Of course not! She's a foreigner so that's probably why she was touchy. I would never cheat on you Y/N!"

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Eh?

Being both confused and flustered, she looks at him baffled, "Huh?! Why are you talking as if we're dating!"

He flinches back - looking appalled at her words, "Because we are?"

"What?!" she gasps, covering her mouth in shock. She doesn't recall them having this conversation!

He looks just as puzzled, embarrassment displayed all over his face, "Well we've always been close, going out just us two, so I just assumed...."

"You like me?!" she practically yells out, looking at him intently.

"I mean yeah! Wasn't it obvious..." he averts his eyes, shyness creeping in at this whole mix-up.

At the sudden news she couldn't believe it, her heart leaping with joy.

She doesn't know if it's from sheer excitement or her dazed state, but her legs gave out, leading her to fall backwards onto the snowy grass.

The soft snow acting as a cushion, breaking her fall in response to her shenanigans. 

"Ah Y/N! Are you okay?!"

They'll need to have a long conversation about this soon. But for now, she'll stay here laying in the snow with a dazed expression.

In a state of shock at the revelation - her crush likes her back.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

A/N ||| Ugh idk how to feel about this one u guyssss! Kinda didn't proof read but whatever ig. Kirishima fans RISE UPPPPPP! He would totally fit a friends to lovers trope hehhehehe. I actually love him so much, I wanna put him in my pocket!

[thesummerstorms]

The gingerwort truffle tea hits Rook a lot harder as soon as it has time to enter her blood stream. Around the time she starts humming some Marcher drinking song in Assan's direction, Davrin ends up cutting the picnic short and taking her back to the Lighthouse.

He's a little guilty, sure. He'd meant to give Rook an opportunity to relax, not to put her out of her mind with a hallucinogenic tea. Still, he can't help but laugh a little, especially as Rook keeps trying to have friendly conversations with Assan and the passing Crossroads spirits the whole way home. Her words are growing more slurred, though, so he's glad they don't accidentally stumble on any Venatori or Antaam on the way.

Lucanis walks in to the library just as Davrin is trying to get Arsinoë to settle down on the library couch. He's dressed for a trip - back to Treviso maybe, Bellara had made a comment about spices that morning- but as soon as he spots Arsinoë, his steps falter.

Crows are a paranoid bunch, so Davrin is ready for questioning. Rook and Lucanis are both professional assassins. He knew as soon as he realized what was happening that he'd probably have to talk someone down, reassure them of his intent.

In fact , the general plan had been to find either Neve or Lucanis, explain what happened and throw Rook at them, then find a seat where he would still be able to watch out for her and make sure there weren't complications, but where he was also well out of "clinging" range. Rook's arm had been thrown around his shoulder a little more closely than necessary on the walk back.

What Davrin is not prepared for is how Rook's eyes go wide when she sees Lucanis. The way she immediately stops trying to baby-talk Assan and grows pale and quiet. The crack in her voice when she blurts out- "Please don't tell Viago. Lucanis, please."

Davrin has seen frozen rivers warmer than the sensation that shoots down his spine. Rook's tone... This isn't some recruit embarrassed about being scolded. Her shoulders shake slightly beneath Davrin's hand. Assan lets out a little distressed chirp and rubs against her leg, but for once Arsinoë doesn't respond.

"I knew what was in the cup before I drank it, I promise. Don't tell Viago."

Lucanis's face has twisted up and, really, it isn't exactly a secret that he's sweet on Rook. Davrin is expecting to see his own horror mirrored back at him. A snarl, maybe, if anger draws Spite too close to the surface.

Instead Lucanis sighs. Not a flash of violet or a hostile glare thrown Davrin's way or a flinch away from Rook's pleading expression. Just a sigh.

Resignation, Davrin realizes.

Lucanis moves forward, crouching beside the sofa and ignoring Davrin entirely now as he speaks softly in Antivan. Davrin doesn't catch any of it except for "de Riva" but Rook is arguing back in the same language, so it doesn't seem to be having much effect. She keeps repeating herself - "por favor", he knows that one too- and if he were a betting man Davrin would put money on it being more or less the same refrain as what she said in Trade.

Rook leans forward earnestly, big grey eyes and too wide pupils. Lucanis asks her a question, his tone gone coaxing, and she shakes her head. Then he stands up and Rook puts her head in her hands.

"Hey, listen-" Davrin says tamping down the nervous twitch in his hand before he can reach before his sword. He steps in front of Lucanis instead, because whatever Rook is so worried about, he was the one who thought this whole mess would be a good idea. "Lucanis, it was just a tea. Rook's just having a bad reaction. Why does she keep asking –"

"Not now," Lucanis growls, gesturing with a short jut of his chin back in Rook's direction. "Ask later. Not now."

And okay, Davrin can understand that. If Arsinoë is this freaked out, no point in spooking her further. But he still doesn't understand why Lucanis is leaving, walking out the double doors of the main building and back out into the courtyard. Davrin trusts himself, sure, but Lucanis doesn't feel the same way, historically speaking. Yet he's walking away?

Arsinoë doesn't notice, all her earlier mirth evaporated like the morning dew. Assan is still making little worried squawks, looking back and forth from Rook to Davrin as if he has picked up on her distress and is demanding Davrin fix it.

Except Davrin doesn't know how because he still doesn't get why Arsinoë is so suddenly upset. He doesn't think it's just the tea, or surely she wouldn't have been so cheerful on the way back from Arlathan.

"This is some weird Crow shit, isn't it?" he says, mostly to himself since Arsinoë is too out of it to respond, "What the fuck." Then, he raises his voice a little. "Rook? You okay? Arsinoë."

At the sound of her name, her actual name, Arsinoë flinches.

What the fuck.

The doors creak open again. He hears the distinctive thunk of Neve's prosthetic against the stone floors followed by a sharp inhale as she catches sight of Arsinoë

"What's going on here?" Neve demands. Her reaction Davrin understands; immediately, she's at Rook's side, hands already starting to glow faintly with what is likely healing magic. "I thought you were headed to Arlathan. Was there trouble?"

"Not exactly," Davrin grimaces, watching as Rook (predictably) lifts her head a little at that last word, the one they all like to pretend he doesn't know Neve has taken to using as some sort of pet name for their glorious leader. Normally that would be his cue to take Assan and flee, but now he's just glad the Rook is reacting to something.

"Neve?" Rook asks, shifting in her seat, then gently pushing at Assan to make room for Neve to settle beside her. "Neve, you shouldn't drink the tea."

"The tea?" Neve asks, reaching up to brush a stray curl out of Arsinoë's face, "What tea?"

"Mmm. The tea. Ask Assan. My head is starting to hurt."

"Ask... Assan?" Predictably, Neve places the back of her hand against Arsinoë's forehead, a slight chill creeping into the air. Even more predictably, she looks back sharply at Davrin.

"Look, in my defense, Emmrich said it was fine. I drank the tea. I'm fine. But Rook..."

What Neve would have said to that, Davrin will never know because the doors open again. Lucanis strides in, too rushed to walk carefully and silence the clinking of his weapons. In his hands, he holds a clay pitcher and one of his own favorite cups, one of the ones from that fancy tea set.

Lucanis hesitates briefly, staring openly at the way Arsinoë pressing her face into Neve's hand, the way Neve is pulling Arsinoë closer, bracing her. His expression goes dark and yet when Neve catches his eye he nods, seeming... grateful?

Weird Crow shit.

"Arsinoë, you need to drink this. Hopefully it will help." Rook shudders against Neve, but Lucanis persists. "Viago is back in Treviso, I promise. He needs to know nothing, but you need water."

"Wait, Viago?" Neve asks, "The Fifth Talon? What does he have to do with this?"

"That's what I want to know," Davrin agrees. It's not like he ever though the Crows were great people, but it doesn't explain why Rook is reacting like this just from seeing Lucanis, why she keeps begging that no one tell the man who is supposed to be her mentor that she... what, accidentally been drugged? That doesn't seem like something a thirty year old assassin should be afraid of, much less to this extent.

Maybe it is the tea. It has to be the tea. Because why else would Rook be acting this way about Lucanis? Normally she's the first to reassure him, to seek him out and assure him that the demon shoved inside his skull doesn't scare her, but now she's refusing to take a cup because he poured it.

Lucanis looks wounded at that, brown eyes gone unreasonably soft and sad. Finally, he hands the cup off to Neve and unbuttons his Crow-purple cape, shrugging it off to the floor. Rook's shoulders slump a little at that, and Lucanis must take it as a sign because the next thing Davrin knows, the man is putting a hand on Rook's knee.

(It occurs to him again that maybe he shouldn't be here, but worry roots Davrin in his spot.)

"Rook, it's just water. I promise, cara. If Emmrich wants to give you a potion, I promise to check it first, but this is just water. I give you my word."

It's probably a sign of trust that despite the fact Rook gets somehow paler at the mention of "potions", ultimately she caves and lets Neve help her raise the cup to her lips. Lucanis reaches for the pitcher again, and she lets him pour more into the cup before her head slumps against Neve's shoulder.

For a moment, the three of them who are sober sit (or crouch or stand) locked in a moment of awkward silence. Arsinoë is never this touchy, at least not when Davrin's around. And even if it's different when she's in private with Neve and Lucanis, it doesn't make her behavior less strange.

"Lucanis," Neve asks finally, when Arsinoë seems to show no further reaction, "What is going on?"

"Rook is House de Riva," the Crow replies as if that answers everything somehow, then adds "They're famous for their poisons, at least since Viago became Talon."

"Esma too," Rook mutters from Neve's shoulder without opening her eyes.

"And the Talon before Viago had a knack for them as well," Lucanis agrees, hand back to hovering over Rook's knee as if he's still uncertain his touch will be welcome. "Though not as much as Viago."

"She said something about daily doses of venoms at the breakfast table," Neve remembers. She looks about as happy about that as Davrin feels.

It takes effort not to turn that discomfort back on Lucanis, but it wouldn't be fair to snap at the man when he's looking at Rook like that. "So what... Rook was more sensitive to the tea because she grew up being poisoned? Is this some kind of bad interaction or-"

"No." Lucanis replies, the reconsiders. "Well, some of it, maybe. But that's not why she was asking about Viago."

Davrin's hands twitch with the need to grab Lucanis's overly decorative lapels and demand a clearer answer, but Neve-

"She's afraid of being punished. Her teacher is a poisoner, and she let herself drink from a tainted cup."

Neve's voice quavers on the word punished, unable to hide entirely behind her normal stoicism, but her eyes are hard, with a glint like steel. Davrin just feels cold again as Lucanis nods in confirmation.

"Yes. Crow houses do not all train their Fledglings the same, but none of them tolerate stupid mistakes. If a de Riva found themselves so easily poisoned, without even checking, I would not doubt that the next cup from their seniors would be punishment and lesson both."

"Bastards," Davrin bites out, thinking of Uncle Eldrin and the berries. The cramps and hallucinations had been the lesson, not the preface for more punishment to come. Intense punishment, if Rook's reaction isn't just the heightened emotions caused by the tea.

Lucanis is still looking at Rook with those wounded eyes, still not-quite-touching, even though she seemed to relax when he shed the cape. But the resignation has crept back into his voice like a weight, and he only shrugs at Davrin's swearing.

"Thus is the life of a Crow. We can't afford to make mistakes. Our teachers know this."

"You won't do it twice," Arsinoë agrees, sound almost like she's quoting something. "Because you remember." Sitting up just enough to sip at the cup again, she still hesitates, eyes fluttering as she glances at Lucanis, waiting for his nod of reassurance before drinking.

Davrin's gut churns at the careless way she says it, at Lucanis's total acceptance.

(He was the one who poured her the tea. It was his idea to ask Emmrich about the truffles.)

"Well." Neve says. "I dare say we've all learned some things today. No need to tell Viago. Or anyone else."

"No," Lucanis agrees.

Rook gives a little sigh at that before her hand darts out to catch Lucanis's. "My head still hurts," she complains.

Davrin turns towards the staircase immediately, suddenly sure he wanted to be far, far away from all this. "I'll go find Emmrich. Assan-"

But the griffon had dropped into what Davrin recognizes as a guarding stance, as if set to protect an injured member of the flock. Well, for once Davrin has no compunctions about leaving the feather brain behind with the Crows. And Neve, of course.

"Assan can stay here as chaperone."

He takes the stairs two at a time, all but bolting towards Emmrich's study. The last glance back before he darts into Emmrich's hallway, he sees Neve helping Arsinoë pull Lucanis out of his crouch and towards the little two seater.

[midnight-mourning]

Holiday Fun

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 11❄️❄️

still feeling a little weird, BUT enjoyed writing this one out, these just keep getting fluffier and fluffier, WHOOPS, ah who am i kidding, i know y'all are eating it up, hope you enjoy this one as well ^_^

Prompt: Request! Christmas themed activities with the Daycare kids. Maybe Arts n' Crafts or even DCA trying to impress the kids with some funny costume

Word Count: 2040

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When Sun approached you with the idea of going 'all-out' for the holidays this year, you were just slightly surprised, but very pleased. 

You've always love the holiday season, and having the chance to share it with both the playtime and the naptime attendant was always a bit of a joy. You'll admit, while you've never said it outright, you found their company very endearing, and having the excuse to put in the extra hours to get everything prepared was thrilling to you. Of course, you do your best to hide this excess excitement to see them as excitement for the kids, but still. 

They had big plans for this time of year, much more ambitious than the usual. More games, more activities, more presents, all of it. The Daycare was decorated head to toe in all sorts of Christmas fare, including a rather large tree you're still not quite sure how they managed to get their hands on. Regardless, the mood was elevated for everyone, and especially for the kids. 

It was decided that you'd stick to the usual routine throughout most of the month, leading up to a big celebration before the Plex closed for Christmas, consisting of a week-long 'party' filled with everything and anything you could think of. 

However, it was during this time that you noticed the slightest shift in the attendants' attitude. Not a bad one by any means, they were still overjoyed, but you'd noticed they'd become a bit more, cheeky, in their interactions with you. 

It started with a simple game, 'Pin the nose on Rudolph' with you volunteering to demonstrate for the children to help understand. 

"Alright, are you ready Sunshine?" Sun asked, hands on your shoulders. 

You nod, putting both thumbs up, blindfold blocking your line of sight. "Yup! Bring it."

He spins you around once, twice, three times, and you expect him to let you go, simply point you in the right direction with the sticky foam circle in your hands. Instead, he holds close, waiting for you. 

At first you think nothing of it, stepping forward and feeling around for the poster. But you do whisper to the bot your confusion. "Um, Sun, everything okay? You're not trying to trick me now, are you?"

"Of course not, Starshine." He answers, just as quietly. "Just want to give you the best chance possible and impress all our little friends! Now, lift your hand up just a tad..."

Sure enough, you manage to get quite close to winning, and the kids are thrilled. 

Similarly, during story time later on in the day, Moon asks you to help read with him, playing a few parts in the story, something you never do. But, you're more than happy to help out, though you do find his choices for you to be surprising, if even a bit flustering. 

"Something the matter, Star?"

You cough, and shake your head, settling in beside him to be able to see the pages of the book. "Not at all, you just never ask for support during stories is all."

"Well, even the best of us need help sometimes, I'm not so prideful to not admit to that." He scootches closer, arm wrapping around you to grip the book he now puts between your laps. "Let's get started, shall we?"

You nod, heat on your cheeks hopefully invisible in the low light. "Of course!"

It doesn't go unnoticed to you how additionally, all their crafts throughout the week mysteriously end up in your bag, adding to the growing collection that was now scattered throughout your home. You know they're just being silly and sweet, but still, each little note you receive with each makes your heart soar. 

Your favorite so far is the shared Christmas ornament they made you. One of the ones filled with paint and sparkly things and more. The blue and yellow bulb is hung front and center on your tree, and everytime you catch sight of the glitter hearts they added to it you have to turn away again, shaking your head. 

It doesn't help that the children have ganged up on you now, seemingly unaware of how much it flusters you to be pushed together with your crushes for every activity. From movie watching, to making gingerbread houses together, to even dancing around the Daycare to Christmas music. 

With each activity, you notice how they all giggle amongst themselves, whispering and the likes. And every so often, you'll catch the Attendant joining in, shushing them, tones too hushed for you to make out yourself. You're not entirely sure what it all means, but you assume it must just be the extra excitement relating to the party at the end of the week. As much as you've enjoyed the extra attention from the bots, there was certainly no way either of the Attendants meant anything by all this teasing. 

That was, until the day of. 

When you walk into the Daycare that morning, having ran a little behind because of the weather, you notice how, quiet everyone is. 

It's odd, but still, you smile all the same to the kids, greeting them as you hang up your coat and go through your usual routine. You start reviewing the checklist on your clipboard, double checking that everything is set up and ready to go for the official 'start' of the party in a few hours. 

As you're doing so, a shadow suddenly looms over you. You look up, eyes widening when you catch sight of his outfit. 

"Oh! Good morning, Sunny! I wasn't expecting to see you so dressed up!" You comment with a giggle. "Or so blue."

He is in, fact, covered with blue and white, but not Moon's level. Rather, his outfit is a lighter blue, with snowflakes scattered throughout, including the end of the hat he's wearing. Jack Frost wasn't what you'd expect the sunny attendant to dress up as—if at all—but you have to say, it works well. 

Sun puts his hands on his hips, head held high. "Why thank you! I thought a bit of dress up would really make this party a good one! Don't you agree?"

"Of course!" You beam. 

Something's set down on the desk beside you then, the clipboard in your hands removed. "Wonderful! Then I hope you won't mind joining me, would you?"

You realize that it's a matching outfit, complete with 

"Even Jack Frost needs a bit of assistance, and who better to help than his favorite helper?" He puts his hand over yours.

You can't help the stutter that forms then, even if the notion is silly. "Re-really? Are, are you sure?"

"How could I not be! The children are so excited too, we wouldn't want to let them down, right?"

You take note how the kids are keenly watching the two of you then, snickering and chatting just like they've been all week. 

Something clicks for you then, and the warmth that's been building in your chest spreads ten-fold. 

After a moment, you nod, taking the outfit. "Okay! Yeah, of course."

You rush off to change then, and when you come back, the kids cheer, only flustering you further. Sun claps excitedly upon seeing you, spinning you into a dip before setting you upright again. It dizzies you in more ways than one. 

As the day goes on, you can feel the tension build more and more. You know very clearly now that they're planning something during this party, but to what extent, you're not for certain. But the lingering touches, the whispered teases, it's almost a bit too much for you now. 

You just hope you're not reading this all wrong, or it's going to be really embarrassing—

"Having fun, Sunbeam?" Sun asks, practically skipping over to you. 

You sip on your drink, watching the controlled chaos of the Daycare. Kids are running about, each with their own little costumes in the form of headbands and face paint. There's a craft or two happening, as well as a few easy to monitor games. 

You don't know how, but you think this is the smoothest party you've ever had, despite so much happening. And now having realized the kids have been in on the schemes of your Attendants, you can only imagine what they did to convince the children to behave so well. 

Music plays somewhere around you, and in that moment, you're the most content you've ever been, you think.

You glance up to Sun, and decide to make the first move for once. You wrap an arm around his waist, smile on your face as you observe the controlled chaos. "I'm having a great time, thank you. This is all so, perfect."

"Oh. Well, um,"—you hear Sun's rays spin quickly—"There is something else, we, we planned it just for you! If you'd um, be interested, that is."

You giggle then, patting his chest once with your free hand. "Lead the way then."

He nods, taking hold of your hand and guiding you further into the Daycare. Just then, the song changes, something still holiday-related, but slower, easy to dance to. With a slight hesitation, Sun takes both your hands, starting to lead you into the song. 

"So." You say.

"So." He answers. 

You giggle, looking up into his gaze. "You two have been pretty sneaky this week, haven't you?"

"I don't know what ever you could mean." Sun spins you around, into a shadow. It's enough for Moon to show for a moment. "We've been on nothing but our best behavior."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Not to mention you've managed to trick our friends into helping you. Do you have any idea how close to bursting my heart has been all week?"

"Obviously not enough, if it's taken you this long to notice." Moon snickers. 

You scoff. "Give me some credit, when you've had a crush for so long, you find it hard to believe it might be reciprocated."

A shift back into the light, Sun's rays appearing again. "Well, maybe we just need to be a bit more clear, hm?"

Before you can say anything, Sun presses his smile to your lips. Your eyes widen, and before he can move away again, you pull him in for another, longer, kiss, full of the yearning you've been trying your best to hide for so long, now throwing all that caution to the wind. 

You break apart, you find Sun is frozen in place. Then, he reaches up, and pulls the hat he's wearing down over his eyes, causing you to laugh outright. 

"Sorry." Your hand comes up to his face. "Guess I got a little carried away for a moment there."

At that moment, you realize that several pairs of little eyes are on you both. Including—

"Danielle! Amy! You set me up?" You gasp, seeing them peeking out from the playset above you, sticks with little bits of mistletoe hanging from their grips. 

They giggle as do the other kids, and it's your turn to be embarrassed. After shooing them away, with no help of either Sun or Moon, you're left alone with the two once more. 

"I can't believe you pitted them against me. I knew they were in on it, but still!"

Moon chuckles, arms wrapping around you once more. "You're very oblivious, Star. We needed all the help we could get."

You grumble, but accept the hug, burying your head in his chest. "Fair enough. I guess."

"So, is this all alright then?" He asks, with just a hint of nerves in his tone. 

You squeeze tighter, nodding. "More than alright. Trust me."

"Good. We should have another ten minutes before Santa arrives. Let's make them count, hm?" He asks, leaning back down to your height.

"Moon! We have a job to do."

He tsks. "Job can wait. They'll be fine on their own for a little longer. We gave them plenty of candy to keep quiet."

You're interrupted by another kiss from protesting further. But once you're not so distracted and flustered, you will be having a talking to them about bribing the kids for their help. Even though you were indeed, benefiting from it greatly. 

Very much so.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @lizyxml for the cute request! Liked having something that had the daycare kids involved to an extent, and had a good bit of fun writing all the little scenes hehe ^-^ also thought jack frost would be a cute/silly costume so that's why I went with that for the boys :D (also a big jack frost fan sooo yk how it is >-<)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[meltnein]

Blitzbee Headcanon

I've been thinking about several ideas regarding these two characters. From how their first interactions might be, the quirks or habits they would share, to moments when they both fell in love. For now, I've decided to develop three of them (let's say they are the softest ideas I have...);

1. Blitzwing, in his early interactions with Bumblebee, always stood tall. What do I mean by 'tall'? I mean he always tried to intimidate Bumblebee with his height, keeping his posture straight, trying to look as imposing as possible (even though it wasn't necessary, considering Bumblebee's height). Blitzwing felt the need to prove that he was threatening enough, that he wasn't weak, that he could crush Bumblebee with just a simple move of his foot.

It was nothing more than a defense mechanism. As I mentioned earlier, Blitzwing, having a high rank among the 'cons, constantly had to show that he deserved to be there, that he was strong enough to challenge anyone who dared to take his position. This mindset created a mechanism where he constantly used his height to appear formidable, refusing to lower his 'level' to Bumblebee's height. This creates a domino effect between them, with Blitzwing using his height to seem superior, and Bumblebee using hostility and sarcasm to counteract those feelings of inferiority.

It isn't until the third encounter that Bumblebee manages to break that mechanism through a mocking insult directed at Blitzwing. Random quickly becomes the first to take control, laughing heartily at such a vague insult and getting close enough to Bumblebee to counterattack. With each interaction, every comment, every conversation, Blitzwing begins to give in. Sitting across from Bumblebee, always trying to keep him in front, he couldn't allow himself to drop his guard. By their ninth encounter, Blitzwing is now sitting beside Bumblebee, too relaxed for his mechanisms to function. By their fifteenth encounter, Blitzwing lets Bumblebee rest in his lap to face the winter in Detroit.

2. Blitzwing was the first to teach Bumblebee how to ice skate. I feel like Blitzwing would prepare everything a day in advance, freezing the lake with his cannons, constantly making sure it could support both his weight and Bee's. At first, Bumblebee would be confused-why did Blitzwing lead him out to the middle of nowhere to a frozen lake? Was he trying to get revenge? That was a year ago! Did Blitzwing plan to kill him there? Bumblebee would be trying to figure out why Blitzwing brought him there, spinning around chaotic and crazy ideas, when in reality, Blitzwing just wanted to skate.

Blitzwing would be the first to take Bee's servos to push him onto the ice. And Bumblebee would be the first to fall, slipping on his tires, unable to maintain stable balance. I love to think that Blitzwing would hold him up to keep Bumblebee from falling to the ground, always keeping a servo on Bumblebee, guiding the Autobot with little tips. Blitzwing would undoubtedly be a great instructor, pointing out each mistake with a note of amusement. It would take a moment for Bumblebee to learn the basics, gliding on the ice, looking for more and more speed.

(2.1) Bumblebee would be the first to propose a race, and Blitzwing would clearly accept the challenge with amusement. Spoiler alert: it went wrong. Near the end of the race, Bumblebee would surely slip due to the high speed, sliding right to Blitzwing's feet, who would fall alongside Bumblebee. Both would awkwardly slide until they came to a sudden stop. And like any romantic holiday cliché, they would end up in a compromising position. Blitzwing, in an effort to avoid hurting Bumblebee in the fall, would likely cover him with his body, rolling on the ice with Bumblebee pressed against his chassis. Maybe it was also the first time their sparks were close enough to spark together.

3. I've been reading various headcanons about Blitzbee, and I've noticed that most of them agree on one thing: Bumblebee's horns are extremely sensitive to touch. (I didn't understand this idea until I saw Bee's horns as antennas. Receiving constant frequencies of signals makes them a sensitive spot to touch. It's literally like moving an antenna; the signal changes frequency.) (P.S. I need to find meaning in things.) Getting back to the point, Blitzwing wouldn't hesitate to caress the horns between his servos, even going so far as to examine them with his monocle. I feel like Blitzwing couldn't help himself, touching the horns with his servos, vaguely recalling what it felt like to have them in the past.

Oh, did you never think that Blitzwing, before becoming a triple changer, also had horns? Looking at Blitzwing's design, the two holes in his helmet have left me with a lot of questions. Were they part of the design, or did they serve a function within Blitzwing's body? This is my idea, where I believe Blitzwing had horns, but when he was turned into a triple changer, they were cut off.

Oh, hoppla. I think I went overboard with the text, hehe.

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

You didn’t prove anything, because literally ALL of your sources are propaganda that we know to be false propaganda meant to increase the gods’ influence. It would be like arguing Elgar’nan is actually the good guy because all the old tales say he is the loving and benevolent creator god. The old tales do say he is the loving and benevolent creator god, but that’s because the old tales are bullshit propaganda intended to gather worshippers.

Give me one single piece of evidence that it was Mythal who did the ritual (did the ritual. Not that she was involved. Not that it was her idea. Not that she ordered solas to do it. That she, personally, did the ritual), that is not filtered down through several thousand years of “Mythal the protector” propaganda that co existed with several thousand years of dread wolf propaganda. I’ll save you a trawl through the wiki: there isn’t any. You’ve proved nothing, because you don’t understand what your sources are. You don’t understand you are citing false propaganda written by an unreliable narrator. It’s not supposed to be read as historically accurate, yet you’re treating it like the absolute truth.

My evidence?

1) The initial memory: Solas says “it is awful, what we’re doing”. The dagger is created, but his job does not end there. He is not just giving the dagger to Mythal, he is continuing with the task of sundering the titans

2) the discussion: after the first memory, Emmrich mentions that they have all “experienced a memory”. While the player sees a shot of the mural and hears spoken dialogue, the actual characters have experienced the memory. Experienced Solas’ memory. So when they go on to discuss that solas did the actual sundering like it’s established fact, that is because it is. They’ve actually experienced the memory and do not need to dissect the specific wording. They actually know that solas went on to do the ritual.

3) Solas’ guilt: one of the revenants we see is the “slaughter of the pillars”, the pillars being the titans. The other two revenants are “betrayal of Felassan”, representing Solas murdering Felassan in his sleep, and “fall of the protector”, referencing solas killing Mythal at the end of inquisition. These two revenants are both direct actions that solas took. He did not get someone else to kill those people, he killed them with his own hands. The slaughter of the pillars revenant is the same. It would not make sense for this guilt to hold such a high place, among those he had killed with his own hands, had he not also sundered the titans with his own hands.

4) Solas’ reaction to being accused: during the banters before the final battle, Davrin and Harding both confront him for sundering the titans and causing the blight. He does not make excuses, as he almost always does. He does not find a loophole, as he almost always does. He does not find a way where he is technically not to blame, as he almost always does. If he had simply made the dagger and given it to Mythal, with the warning that she should not go through with her plan, he would mention it. He consistently takes any and every opportunity to make excuses for himself. This is one of the major parts of the plot, it is a major part of why he is unable to leave the regret prison. He finds any excuse he can to lessen his responsibility for his actions. If there was such an obvious way for him to do so, he would take it. He doesn’t, because it does not exist. Because he did not simply give the dagger to Mythal and advise against using it, he is the one who performed the ritual. And as it is, instead of trying to find, as neve puts it, “a pretty excuse”, he practically admits it.

5) yes, the art book: if it was just the art book alone then no, that would not be enough evidence. But it’s not the art book alone, and, importantly, I am not using the art book as a piece of canon. I am using it as proof that that was the writers intentions at least at some point in the process. There was a point, in the creation of veilguard, where they were intending for Solas to have been the one to do the ritual. And this was the case so late into production, that the art book was printed with that as fact. Even if they changed their mind, it shows that none of the sources from the previous games contradict solas being the one to have done the ritual, because at the very least it would be lore compatible for it to be solas, and more likely it would be because that was the plan in the pretty well planned out lore the entire time. And that they would have had to change their mind, because Mythal was not the original intention. With this insight into the production process in mind, it becomes clear that everything I have mentioned was written with the understanding that it was solas who did the ritual. Given that they wrote a lot of stuff pointing to it being solas, because the intention was that it was solas, and left it in the game and didn’t put anything in to suggest that it wasn’t solas, it stands to reason that that is because it was solas. They didn’t change it. It was solas.

You know in retrospect sundermount is a hell of a name for a mountain

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader (& aventurine!)

summary: You get drinks with Aventurine, only to be interrupted by a rather cross Sunday. wc: 1.7k - cw for drinking, stalking... and heavy worldbuilding. oops! a/n: The guillemets «» are used to indicate Sunday's telepathy!

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 (nsfw) / part 4 / part 5 ---

Most bars and hostelries in Golden Hour had been established long after the rebellions has ended and the prohibition on alcohol was lifted. The Pendulum Speakeasy, however, was an exception. You had no reservations in believing that Aventurine had every inch of Golden Hour memorized—gambled at every table, met every bartender, sweet-talked every showgirl—so when he leads you to The Pendulum without even stopping to check for directions, it only feels fitting. "You go out drinking often, doll?" You shake your head bashfully, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "No, that's never appealed to me. Sunday took me to dinner earlier this week, but other than that... I just sort of like to keep to myself in my free time." You look down, knowing full well your outfit corroborates this—Other than the dress Sunday had delivered to you, the only things you can wear out are your work clothes. Fitted white pants, structured blazers, things of that sort. Aventurine's interest piques. "Oh, he took you to dinner?"

"Well—Yes," you concede. "-No? ...Yes. It was a work meeting." "Yes, but still. Never took him as the type." Aventurine wraps one arm around your waist, headlines flashing in his head: 'Stoneheart Missing After Scandal In Penacony', 'Rendezvous With The Family Gone Wrong'. He'd previously assumed that his plans would involve catching Sunday's ire somehow, but not yet considered to this degree.

Still, he surmises, he has faith in his odds. "Ah, but don't you worry your pretty little head about work tonight," he adds. "What I care about is you having fun." Finally winding the final turn into The Pendulum's alleyway, Aventurine thrusts his other hand into his pocket to pull out a small poker chip. You assume by the logo in the center and the golden sheen on its edges that Aventurine had stolen it—Maybe he'd slipped it into his sleeve after a game to take as a trophy. You'd heard of his exploits from time to time, and you can only assume the usual prizes of victory has lost their luster in his eyes. Perhaps he wishes to gamble for more unconventional things: Favors, promises, human lives. Aventurine knocks on the door, and a small set of twinkling Pepeshi eyes peers back at him from an open slat. You're sure the Pepeshi must be standing on a stool of some sort for them to be at Aventurine's eye level. "Are you welcome?" a squeaky voice asks. Aventurine smiles, flipping the poker chip in his hand up into the air one more time before catching it in his palm. "Very. 'Lady Arctus has saved me a table'." There was no need for any speakeasy in Penacony to still work on the password system—especially for one as well known as Pendulum's—but you assume that requiring it lent itself to some atmosphere. The atmosphere of a place like The Pendulum was its primary selling point, after all. When all of the drinks came from the same suppliers and every band played in whatever bar had an open stage, there was nothing else they could use to distinguish themselves but looks. Aventurine led you through The Pendulum by the hand, the two of you passing under a large chandelier decorated with fifty or some Halovian statuettes, each static crystal figurine draped in flowing cloth and ebulliently presenting sparkling glass bulbs of lights to the crowd of guests below them. The chandelier shook and twisted from the rumble of a car passing over the Speakeasy, sending an explosion of reflected rainbows around the room like a burst of confetti. As the two of you reached the bar, Aventurine lets you take your seat first, the barstool squeaking against the wooden floorboards. Once he takes his own seat, Aventurine raises his hand to call the bartender over. “An Interplanetary, if you may,” he asks. “And for my guest here—“ Aventurine looks back to you, his tongue tucked into his cheek as he stalls for your answer. “Pika White with an olive.” “Pika White with an olive,” he emphatically repeats to the bartender. Once the two of you are alone, he turns to add “My, how distinguished of you.”

You flush, eyes down looking at the velvet carpets over the floor. “Oh, no, that’s just what I got used to ordering for lunch meetings. Back when I started out at The Family, the easiest way to get people to like you was to drink with them.” You laugh under your breath, commenting to yourself “You know what they say, ‘Penacony is just one big party’.” “Indeed I do.” Aventurine’s own gaze is caught by the gleam of the poker table in the center of The Pendulum, itself swarmed with a small crowd of betters. He leans in to you, pointing towards the table. “—How’s about I show those guys what a real game of poker looks like?”  Aventurine gets up before you can even truly answer, but you follow anyways, adding “I don’t think anyone here hasn’t seen one of your games.” He shoots back a smile. “They could do with a reminder.” … … … … Aventurine wins nearly 40,000 credits before finally backing out, and you can’t stop yourself from hanging your head low in embarrassment on his behalf as he howls with laughter at his own victory. While the group of incensed Pepeshi that lost to Aventurine mostly sent him his winnings digitally, Aventurine finds a way to slip an extra 100-credit bill or two into your back pocket amidst the chaos anyways. “What a scene,” he remarks to himself, taking a sip of his Interplanetary. “Wouldn’t be a night out without a good game, would it? You saw that one guys’ face when he saw I still had a straight flush.” You cradle your glass of Pika gingerly in your hand, smiling into it. Between it and the sweet sound of the trumpet from The Pendulum’s stage, your mind is drawn between too many things to respond with more than a good-natured sigh. That is, until a noise cuts through over the sound of the big band and the chatter lingering around the bar. « ♪♫♪♫♫♪ » "Did you hear that...?" you ask, almost speaking it under your breath. "Hear what?" The whistling was probably in your head. It was the same melody you'd heard the other night while at dinner with Sunday, after all. « [Y/N]? Is that you? » You whip your head around to find the source of the voice, only to realize you can't tell which direction it came from. Unfortunately, its owner makes himself known quickly enough. "Aventurine of the Interastral Peace Corporation," your boss says. "I'm not shocked at all to see you here." Aventurine leans over in his seat, putting himself between you and Sunday. Maybe even... shielding you? Still, there was nothing in his voice that makes it seem like he finds Sunday a threat. "Been a while, Feathers," Aventurine grins. "Had to make sure you're not working your staff to the bone." Sunday smiles in a way that almost looks forced. "Never," he replies. "Though, I should warn you. It's against policy for Oak Family employees of a certain rank to consume alcohol of any kind. As the law that upholds Penacony, we must never let ourselves be of ill-affected mind." "That's never been enforced, sir." You feel a sense of shame splash over you the moment you finish your sentence, clasping your hand over your mouth as if you'd just cursed Sunday in front of his mother, or even broken a child's toy. You look back up to him to see if he would take the correction in stride. "Perhaps because until now, it has not been necessary to enforce it." Sunday inhales, his smile squinting his golden eyes as he looks back down at you in what you could only fear was contempt. "I don't want to have to report one of the hardest working people in Penacony for such negligence in following the rules."

"Sunday." Aventurine has fully moved in to separate Sunday from you. "I'm the one who invited [Y/N] out for drinks. They're not the one you should be having problems with here," the gambler sneers. "And what does it matter to you if your beloved secretary spends an hour or two in other company? Scared they'll share a bit too much?" Sunday's smile drops completely. It almost feels crazy to say, but you start to wish he was back to that unprofessionally-touchy, overly-sweet self you were used to seeing. You were able to ignore it because you were used it to it: You're not used to this. "If you think you will achieve any of your ends through [Y/N], Aventurine, you are sorely mistaken," Sunday scowls. "My employees are not playing chips for you to leverage at your behest, especially not my secretary." His golden eyes seem to pierce right through Aventurine's own as he asks "Have I made myself abundantly clear?" "That you have," the gambler replies through grit teeth. "Just let me finish my drink in peace, Feathers." Sunday finally shoots a glance to you before exiting the bar. You push your drink away, having lost all desire to finish it. "Sorry, Venny. I didn't even consider..." "Aw, doll, don't sweat it. Just not your lucky day," he shrugs. "But I'd be a chump to let him walk all over you." His voice lowers to a mutter as he adds "—Fuck, where's Gallagher when you need him? That boss of yours needs a good kick in the pants. Maybe his pretty face, too, if the first doesn't hit him right." "Aventurine, don't." Aventurine sighs, his grip on his glass tightening. "...Sorry, doll, what am I thinking? Not awfully nice of me to being speaking ill of the handsomest, most powerful man in Penacony." He downs the rest of his drink in one fell swoop. "If he's still hearing me, I'll get the sweep from him for sure. Then I'll really need a drink."

--- a/n: Arctus is the 12th of the The Hours in Greek Mythology, so I thought a reference to her would fit well in a Moment that's apparently one before midnight. tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d @ruruize @herrscherofprocrastination @khxii-i @moonsaver

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 20: Wrongful Perceptions [A5]

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Continuation of: Prompt 1. December Moon [A1], Prompt 5. Open Doors [A2], Prompt 11. Out Of Reach [A3], Prompt 17. Truthful Longing [A4]

A/N: It’s Christmas time! Well, at least over her. Mom’s arriving any minute now and I’ve done a shift at the library today as well. Tomorrow the first Christmas celebration will go off and I’m super excited - stressed, yes, very much, but excited 😂👍 I hope you’re having an amazing Friday (or whatever day it is you’re reading this) and that you’re ready for some more Brandon love! 😍👏❤

Tags/TW’s: Not really any tags or warnings for this fic, I’m not sure how to tag it but there’s some angst, some mentions of the previous panic attack, some miscommunication (not between MCs) and a wild blurting of feelings 😅

Word Count: 1.4k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Wrongful Perceptions

“Are you certain I shall not ready the carriage?” Christopher asked as I adorned a heavy cloak smelling of him. “Marrygold will take me home. I am fond of riding.” “Then I shall ride with you.” “You will?” He nodded at my words and a butler stepped up with his coat and top-hat in hand. “Thank you, Peter.” “Master,” the butler replied as Christopher dressed for the cold. “I shall delay lunch,” the butler continued and Christopher nodded.

As the doors opened, a gust of icy wind whipped across my face. Two stable boys stood at the end of the stairs holding each of our horses. I glanced at Christopher, he had already planned to come with me it seemed. “Do not look at me with such judgement, Calliope.” “You ought to practice on your perception of my, what did you call it, expressive features?” “Is that so?” he asked with a smile as we walked down the stairs. “I am not judging, I am thankful to you…”

We fell into silence after that. The winds howling and Marrygold’s pleased snort took over as I grabbed her reins. A saddle had been strapped to her, not that I needed one, but it was proper. “Which way?” I asked as Delaford had been an unknown location to me before the turn of events that led me here. “North-east,” Christopher said. “North if we take the forest route, which is quicker.” “North it is then.”

The wind dragged my hair loose, my gloved fingers chilled while gripping the reins as we galloped between trees — Christopher and his steed close behind me. He called directions now and then, yet my mind lay not with our destination but the estate we were leaving. It would become my home should father agree to our hasty marriage.

I pulled on the reins while leaning back, halting Marrygold to a standstill with a neighing, and Christopher came to a stop beside me. I panted, my mind raced and that dreadful feeling of panic surfaced.

“Dear, are you fairing?” His words went passed me as hasty as the wind. “Calliope?” he asked, and came up right next to me, laying a hand atop my trembling one. “This is wrong,” I whispered. Shame marring my thoughts as I realised we had no dowry to offer, soon not an estate or coin to our name and it would drag my heart’s treasure down in the eyes of society.

“Summer sky,” he said, squeezing my hand. “The only thing wrong is your lack of enthusiasm at the moment. Have you… Are you regretful of accepting me?” “No! Christopher, lord no,” I said, guilt building within me. “But I am no match worthy of you.” “My heart has spoken, even if you had been a maid I would have asked for your hand. I am too old to trifle with my own heart, too gone in years and too seasoned to give society or propriety any thought in matters they have no say in.” “Oh, Christopher…” “As it is, you are from an esteemed family, with a grand legacy and a name worth something in the eyes of society. None of it matters, but your heart.” “Grand legacy… It will soon be gone.” “No, my dear. It will soon be entwined with mine and you shall want for nothing.”

⁛•⁛

The doors swung open before my feet hit the ground. “Calliope!” Father shouted while running down the stairs. “Where have you been?!” he continued and swept me into his arms. The gaping hole of the open doors held my gaze as I remembered the horrible sensation I had experienced of them wanting to swallow me and the grand room beyond expanding around me before plummeting toward me. A trick of the mind, of course, but no less terrifying.

“Father, I’m alright,” I said as he squeezed me tightly. “Where have you been? Why would you leave in such abandon?” he asked as he stepped back and took hold of my upper arms. His eyes lingered on the golden rope keeping the heavy cloak tied around my neck. Then he seemed to find himself, and propriety. along with etiquette in one swoop as Christopher dismounted his horse with a thud.

“Father, I have great news.” Father looked to my right where Christopher now stood. “Colonel Brandon?” he asked. “Indeed, sir. I had the good fortune of finding your daughter on my estate.” “At Delaford? My Calli, what—” I smiled, wishing to soothe the wrinkles of worry from his forehead. “It is a long story, but we have news, Father. Shall we take up the parlour?” I asked, and Father nodded while muttering a string of agreeing words and inviting Christopher in.

After disrobing, we entered the west parlour on the second floor. Christopher had walked close by my side while Father had led the way two steps ahead. I had paled during the ascent of the stairs. Only yesterday had I bolted down them in a rush of panic. Things were different now, yet the remnants remained.

We were served tea by Miss Abel, then Christopher and I found ourselves seated on the sofa while Father sat in one of the three chairs. “So, news you say?” he asked. I nodded, glancing at the man beside me for a second. “Good news. You will have a wed daughter.” Father spluttered into his teacup. “A marriage? What— When— Who have managed to capture you, my Calli?” he asked; as if the man sitting next to me was not evidence enough. “You have a nephew, Colonel Brandon?” he continued, his eyes going between us both — utterly confused it seemed.

Christopher chuckled. “No, sir.” “Then, I am at a loss.” I nearly rolled my eyes. “Father, I shall marry the colonel,” I declared and Father shot out of the chair as if it had burned his behind. “The what?” “The colonel, Colonel Brandon,” I clarified while laying a gentle hand on his strong thigh, not sure what to make of Father’s reaction. Should he not be jubilant?

Father dropped his teacup. It shattered atop the thin rug. “Father!” I called out, instantly on my feet. “What have I forced you to do,” he murmured, looking at me with an ache in his usually happy eyes. “You are my beautiful Calliope, your mother’s spitting image, a soulful being of joy and poetry. What have I forced you to—” “Father,” I interrupted harshly as the man he spoke so off-puttingly about had risen next to me.

I turned, laying my hands on Christopher’s chest — his heart pounded beneath my right palm. Looking up, I found eyes of sorrow once more looking down at me. “I shall find a solution to your dire situation,” he murmured, his voice held taut by pain. “I am not agreeable, it seems…” He smiled most softly, a half smile, a sad smile, a painful ordering of his handsome features. “No, please,” I whispered. “I shall find a solution for you.” He turned toward Father while grabbing my wrists to lower my hands before he fully twisted himself to slightly bow his head toward the wide-eyed, shocked man. “Lord Haymnick, thank you for your time. I return your daughter in a better state than I found her.”

That was it.

Father blinked, I tried to grab Christopher's arm but he moved out of the room swiftly in harsh strides. “Father!” I shouted, rounding the table and snagging myself on my own dress. “How could you?!” He blinked, seeming dazed. “What? My Calli, you cannot marry a man so—” “So what? Caring? Gentle? Kind? What?! He’s the best man I have ever met and I cannot hide a single thought from him! I cannot lie to him, I cannot stop myself from thinking about him!” “He could be my brother, for goodness sake.” “So? That has never stopped any marriage before. And he could not be your brother, he’s—” “Calliope, please, I have several good suitors for you on hand, you don’t need to—”

I snarled, frustration leaking out of me while I fought myself not to run after Christopher. “I want to marry him! I— Father, my heart is screaming for the man you just spoke so terribly about. You—! I was told to marry before the end of the year, and marry I shall, but I will marry none other than Christopher!” “But, but Calli, he’s—” “Wonderful!” I shouted, stomping toward the door after having lost the battle to run after him. “He saved me, in every way possible and I will marry him. Not because it is necessary, or because of the fraud you’ve spun. I will marry him because I… I am falling in love with him.” I grabbed my dress, and heaved a frustrated breath that had my nostrils flaring, as I glared at my gaping father before readying myself to run after the man I could not lose. Again...

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: GAAAAAH - Father, what have you done you nincompoop?! Thank goodness we get the next part of this already tomorrow - hehehe 😘

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[vigilskept]

Saw your tags on the last few posts and hard agree! Between the ever present Fen'harel foreshadowing AND Sandal's prophecy AND Mythal's reckoning? It always seemed like the Veil coming down was that proper big bang finish that would rewrite all the rules in a satisfying and interesting way. One of my issues with Veilgaurd is I feel like it took the series' opportunity for a destinct ending away. Personally, I believe good stories end. I don't want 30 DA games in a MCU verse. And now, to have the series end they have to come up with a stopping point that makes more sense than the Veil. Or revisit the Veil. And what would be the point in that when they wasted all the foreshadowing?

yes, exactly!! i felt like i was going insane on my soapbox there, thank you!! it really feels like they ran up against the natural end point for the franchise and just decided to do a little shimmy around it. i just don't see what exactly that achieves except to set up a new, bigger bad which we have no real stake in.

was i curious about the executors prior to veilguard? yes! but i expected them to appear in this game since they clearly had an interest in solas' plans!! not for them to have 3 completely missable interactions followed by the worst idea of a post credit scene i've ever seen. whatever curiosity i had about what they were up to & how the kossith relate to what's across the sea is pretty much gone at this point.

a "shadowy cabal" who's secretly responsible for all of the evil enacted in this world by people in power is not a plot i care to see play out in bioware's hands. it's a stupid, elders of zion ass direction to take things and was not worth trashing over a decade of build up.

there is nowhere they could take that plot thread (already relying on the worst possible trope...) that would give dragon age a more satisfying conclusion than dropping the veil.

it would've resolved or set up a potential resolution for all of the major conflicts that have been established up to now!! (mages under the chantry, tevene class structure/slavery, oppression of elves, the blights, the waking titans, etc. etc. i could go on!)

and with the way veilguard ends... it looks to me like they wanted to somehow get the implied resolutions that would come out of dropping the veil without committing to it. that's why no matter what you do, dorian or mae will become archon and singlehandedly restructure tevinter society. the load bearing piece of "mageocracy can't function if everyone's a mage now" is gone, so we have to have a poorly executed sideplot to resolve this plot thread for us instead...

i'm sure people will feel differently, but i personally would've found it more satisfying if the veil fell and the franchise wrapped up there. for good or ill, it changes everything and we can all have the time of our lives speculating about the Implications thereafter.

if they really wanted to(/needed to promise EA they could) make more games in this setting — they could've gone backwards! there's lots of stories you could tell throughout thedas in the gap between the fifth blight and solas' ritual! there's lots of stories you could tell about the centuries between andraste's rebellion and the fifth blight! there's so much happening in the background here that they've hinted at through codices that if they really wanted more content in this setting, there is so much room to expand on those.

could they set up world shattering events like "tearing down the veil" again? no. but i think that was a very obvious one and done situation, and i don't think anyone came into this franchise expecting their dragon age games to have stakes that apocalyptic until trespasser! i think there absolutely would've absolutely been an audience for a game about the assassination of queen madrigal or the fog warriors' resistance on seheron if they hadn't fumbled this....

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Sure about that? Got yourself killed without me around once already, red. Rather not have my efforts in undoing that be in vain. Matter of professional pride."

Eskel's deep, concerted voice returned to Sabrina with morbid amusement in the midst of his flashing, enchanted silver blade severing Necrophage limbs, sending them flying this way and that. They were determined, fearless and relentless, he could give them that much... but even outnumbering them, stood little chance against the pair. Merely delaying the inevitable. Throwing a bomb into a group of them, he blew them apart, before casting an Aard Sign to stagger another group, then dodging, drawing his trophy hook and tearing out the throat of another Necrophage that shrieked and lunged at him. One after another, they all fell in the grime and muck, until, finally, the inevitable came, and the battle ended with the two of them still standing. A relative quiet gathered over the clearing outside and the cavern alike, save the crackling of magical fire cooking some of the dead monsters, and some gurgling of surviving, mortally injured Necrophages. He looked over the battlefield, surveying their handwork, before drawing his crossbow and starting to pace about calmly, firing a steel bolt into the heads of several of the creatures that were severely wounded or bound by his Yrden Sign traps, finishing them off entirely.

By the time he was done cleaning up the gory battlefield of the clearing around them, cloak shifting in the breeze, it began to rain around them, the weather above the forest taking a turn for the worst. At last, tucking his crossbow away, the deathly pale potion toxic Witcher's black, viper eyes returned to the crimson haired and clad Sorceress with a nod in her direction, calm tone washing over her again as he likewise lowered his blood coated silver sword. Not half bad, between the two of them, had been awhile since they fought together, instead of against each other. Plenty of valuable mutagens he would be able to extract from their corpses to sell to the closest alchemist shop as well... while she herself made use of their corpses for whatever purposes the infernal Necronomicon had for them. All in all, assuming her plans didn't get them killed, it was liable to be a profitable contract, between the mutagens and the reward awaiting back in town. It was good to return to hunting as well, between the enjoyment they shared together. Back to what he was best at, had been made for. Especially if demons were likely to escape that book, grisly memory of the Deadites stirring again grimly. Things worse than them as well.

"That's the last of them. Can't sense any more alive within the cavern. Now, go ahead and do what you came here to do. Before I wise up and change my mind."

@fallesto

“Fewer jokes now focus on the immediate challenge ahead. Do not die on me witcher!”

She declared as she stood at the cave's mouth beside him, gazing into the darkness where the Monsters lurked. He had successfully drawn them out, showcasing his impressive skills and expertise in this perilous domain. After all, she was more accustomed to hunting humans, not these fearsome creatures. Dozens of them were there, fangs bared and claws poised, drooling and snapping at the air, eager to consume either of them—or perhaps both—if they faltered even slightly. But she was determined to prevent that from happening. She was a sorceress for a reason, and a highly skilled one at that. While he wielded a sword and possessed vast knowledge, all she had were her hands. Yet, that was more than sufficient; her magic surpassed any blade of steel or silver. It didn’t matter what she could conjure with her powers; her fire was more potent than any weapon in existence, and she was ready to demonstrate it.

As the monstrous horde surged forward, she unleashed a torrent of flames, igniting them one by one. Their flesh crackled and sizzled, the acrid smoke spiraling up the tunnel, thickening the air and heightening the peril. Fortunately, they stood at the cave's entrance, where the smoke couldn't reach them. Deeper within, however, the creatures faced a grim fate—suffocation, a fate some might deem worse than death. Yet, to her, they were merely monsters, each with their own unique skills, adept at hunting on the fly, she was looking forward to opening up any bodies that had not been too badly damaged.

At her side, he swiftly dispatched any threat that dared to approach, a fierce protector despite the tumultuous feelings between them. Their bond was undeniably toxic, a blend of hatred and affection, but in moments like this, they were an unstoppable duo—a witcher and a witch, a partnership forged in fire and danger. She moved with grace, her hands weaving through the air, conjuring flames that erupted forth, engulfing the beasts in an instant. The fire spread like a relentless disease, silencing their cries before they could escape their lips.

Turning to him, she smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I may be a rich girl, but lately, my wealth lies in knowledge. I can handle myself, so you don’t need to shield me. Still, it’s heartening to see you fight so fiercely for little old me.”

[scoobydoodean]

Not a lot to say about 7.10 "Death's Door" which presents a pretty clear (and I think very touching) narrative. But one thing I want to talk about is Sam and Dean's responses to Bobby being at death's door and Dean filling the assumed role as the oldest, handling most practical matters surrounding their adoptive father's hospitalization and death (and being afforded far less breathing room partly as a consequence). We already know from 3.10 that Dean is Bobby's emergency contact. In that same episode, Dean refers to Bobby as his father for the first time. Dean makes the same claim in 4.01, and of course—in 7.10, Bobby makes it very clear that he sees Sam and Dean as his sons.

The first way we see Dean taking on the practical role as the oldest son is by facing the initial news about Bobby's condition from the doctor alone. Whether it's good or bad, he knows he has to be the one to hear it. Dean stands tall but rigid—bracing himself. In contrast, Sam noticeably hangs in the background. He isn't ready to shoulder any of the information about Bobby's condition yet without his older brother as a buffer.

Sam is looking very little brother shaped when the doctor leaves and Dean turns around to see how Sam is reacting to the news that Bobby is stable.

Notice how Sam stands—as far back against the wall as possible. Dean had been standing right in front of the door to Bobby's room when the doctor emerged. In contrast, Sam's position protected him from having a direct line of sight into Bobby's room when the curtains opened, because he can't look.

Note: I'm not judging Sam for this. It's a reasonable reaction to the fear of losing a loved one. I also think it's in keeping with Sam's previous avoidance of situations that would force him to confront Bobby possibly not making it or in a tenuous emotional state (some examples where I've talked about this here and here and here... or more generally—#sam and bobby).

Sam's feeling more ready to face news about Bobby's condition at Dean's side the next time we see the brothers. They're being told it's possible that Bobby will live, but that he has high swelling, and they can't operate until it goes down. They're also told that most people with this injury die, and "Right now, it all comes down to [Bobby]".

Immediately after the doctor finishes telling them this, with no time to process it, a man comes in asking for Bobby's next of kin, clearly needing to settle some practical matter (Dean initially assumes related to insurance) once again, Dean handles this alone. We see him framed at the very end of the hallway in a separate area, Sam once again noticeably absent.

Dean isn't even being asked about insurance (which he's already not happy about) but about donating Bobby's organs. This guy's timing is absolutely awful. He also assumes Bobby will die, when Dean is focused on just having been told that Bobby could still make it, which makes Dean very upset.

THEN Dean exists the hospital to cool off, and yet again fills the role of the oldest son by inheriting the role of avenger. He sees and confronts Dick Roman alone in the parking lot, swearing to avenge Bobby (which Dean does at the end of the season—as he did John and Mary in 2.22). Dean's actually so confident and scary that—for all his gloating bravado and soulless smiles—Dick appears genuinely threatened for a moment (of course—we already knew from Dick's master plan to get rid of them in 7.06 that he takes The Winchesters seriously as a threat).

While Dean's been gone handling "insurance" (Dean says that's what it was about when Sam asks) and measuring dicks with Dick (which he does mention to Sam), Sam's worked himself up to looking into Bobby's room from a distance.

It's here that Dean asks for an update, and Sam is in the position of being the one to have received news about Bobby that Dean doesn't know yet. Bobby's swelling is going down and he's breathing on his own, which are both good signs. But the doctors aren't sure about surgery yet because it could be risky, and there's dead brain tissue. Bobby's currently stable, but Sam has begun to face the fact that Bobby might not make it. Note that he’s also had time to process alone after hearing the latest news. Dean hasn’t.

Sam then asks to talk to Dean and starts walking out of sight of Bobby again, and here's where he pulls his signature Sam maneuver: Trying to process what he's trying to face through Dean, by trying to make it a problem that Dean hasn't accepted the possibility that Bobby might not make it... when there's not... actually any real reason to push Dean to "accept" that possibility right now. If Bobby had been in intensive care for weeks, that would be one thing... but it hasn't even been 24 hours since he was shot. Whether Bobby has a high probability of making it or not, Dean really hoping he will... isn't actually a problem Dean needs to "deal" with right now for his emotional health or any other reason.

SAM: Can I talk to you? DEAN: What? Talk about what? SAM: You know what. DEAN: No, we're not gonna have that conversation. SAM: Well, we need to. DEAN: He's not gonna die. SAM: He might. DEAN: Sam. SAM: Dean, listen – we need to brace ourselves. DEAN: Why? SAM: Because it's real. DEAN: What do you want to do? You want to hug and – and say we made it through it when Dad died? We've been through enough.

Sam's choice of words here—"because it's real"—isn't an accident. When Dean walks out, Sam sits and immediately presses his thumb into his palm—the action he uses to dispel hallucinations of Lucifer—who is no doubt mocking him and taunting him with hope of Bobby making it being a pipe dream. We know from 6.22 that one of hallucifer's taunts is that Sam never even left The Cage and all of this has been an elaborate hoax to give Sam hope then completely crush his spirit. As a result, Sam feels he needs to go ahead and accept the worst case scenario so that "Lucifer" can't crush him with despair he wasn't ready to feel.

The thing is... this is a problem very specific to Sam. It may be a reality Sam needs to accept on a particularly quick timeline, but it isn't a "we" situation—it's a "me" situation, and what's "good" for Sam isn't necessarily "good" for Dean. There's nothing here that Dean needs to "accept" at this stage. It's not fair to claim he's in denial. Dean's "crime" here is wanting to hope in something he’s been told is possible, and he doesn't appreciate Sam trying to make that a problem and trying to take his hope away prematurely. But Sam finds he needs to "accept", and instead of facing that within himself, tries to make it a problem Dean is having that Sam needs to force him to work through.