#they deserve all the duets

[cryscendo]

kurt hummel in every performance

5x13 - New Directions

I Am Changing - Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones

“The most upsetting thing is watching two people you love fight about something ridiculous and there not being anything you can do to stop it. But, thankfully, we made up and we have never been closer. And we've decided to heal our hearts with a song.”

[weloveakechi]

Picture this: violin prodigy Goro Akechi, loved and admired by hundreds but still somehow not satisfied by any of it

Then there’s Akira, a thief, lurking in the shadows there to steal the violin, to take back what should have been his. His plan is perfect except Goro shows up and starts practice unexpectedly

And when Goro starts to play Akira cannot stop listening. It is love at first note, not that he realizes it yet. All he knows is he needs the player to go with the instrument to really ruin Shido

He leaves calling cards, critiques on Goro’s playing, his outfit, his music choice. He’s trying to push him away. But Goro is only more determined to do well. He tweaks everything, puts in more effort, refuses poor song choices

It is a dance between them. Threats and notes and then a rose during practice. A bouquet after a performance. Candies and tissues when something goes wrong

And for Goro, he lives for those notes. They’re the first genuine interactions he’s had since before he can remember. No one has ever spoken to him that way before, in writing or otherwise.

They drive him. He has to be better. The best. Perfect. He puts everything into his performances, eyes raking the crowd for a face he only knows as a mask on a card. Heart racing to see the next response to his words put into song. He pushes and pushes and pushes. Leaves a note of his own at last, with a score he has been working on. A song for this phantom Joker. His feelings made into music

He plays that piece that night.

And the letters stop

And he cannot stand it. Without a true audience what reason does he have to play?

So he goes to destroy the violin and walks into the performance hall only to hear it singing beautifully

There, in the same mask drawn on all his cards is Akira, playing the same piece he’d written, each note lovingly pulled from the strings

[shiraishi--kanade]

Once again i am assured the flute is my favourite instrument,,, its so lovely,,, (<- was at a little concert)

It's not my personal favourite but it Is very lonely I agree. A certain purple guy would agree with you too

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

new concept that’s making me go feral: My Goodbye from Epic the musical but it’s the Ava and Player at the graveyard

[windupaidoneus]

emet is encouraging hilde to pull the trigger on his parents btw. they were among the survivors (technically survivors.) of fandaniel's fucked up trick but were in areas not seen in the game & also were still tempered so theyre likely at an irreversible stage... & eventually probably in post dt hildegarde has a mind to check on them. well to check if they are alive at all. & emet refuses to not come along knowing how forgiving he is. & yeah. "youve already forgiven the unforgivable. do not demand any more of yourself". yk. emet being the unforgivable hes forgiven. yahaha. hes killing his parents & it sucks for everyone involved

[teamfortresstwo]

On the bright side canon can’t hurt me for another week !

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ butterfly ♡

♡ Pairing: personal trainer!boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/comfort

♡ Summary: When your boyfriend leaves his phone behind after a cozy morning at home you decide to do something sweet and bring his phone to him at work but an unexpected interaction leaves you questioning yourself and if you truly deserve your place in your relationship.

♡ Word Count: 6.3k

♡ Warnings: some body image insecurities/comments about the reader's body from someone else but plenty of comfort from Mingyu for them, unprotected sex, shower sex, a lil nibbling, lots of kissing, a lil manhandling, no pulling out, a lil nipple play, pet names (baby, sweetie, good girl).

♡ A/N: This is the first fic that I've written in a long, long, long time so I'm sorry if I'm a little rusty at this. I just wanted to write something comforting and sweet for all of my chubby babes out there. I also have to thank @anyamaris for supporting me in writing this and checking in on me so much. I love youuu.

Peace. That’s all Mingyu knows when he’s around you. Even in this moment.

Lost deep in some dream he probably won’t remember, his arms wrapped around you as you snuggle against his bare chest lost in dreams of your own. He’s never felt safer. He’s never felt more at home. Wild horses couldn’t drag him away from this bed that you share together. Nor could his morning alarms that have gone ignored one after the other until his phone seemingly decided he was a lost cause and went back to sleep itself. 

How can you blame him when he was set up for failure to begin with? The sound of rain beating against the window of your 3rd story apartment, drowning out the rest of the world so that it feels as if he’s on a planet of his own. The warmth of the fluffy cotton blankets he’s been swimming in all night, protecting you both from the crisp chill of the early morning. The softness of your body pressed to his, every breath of yours so gentle and sweet. So perfectly timed with his that you’re almost dueting a lullaby, dragging him deeper and deeper into his slumber. He could stay like this all day—snoozing the hours away, blissfully unaware of the fact that he has actual responsibilities—but someone else has other plans. 

The bedroom door creaks open but only barely. Just enough for a chubby orange cat affectionately known as Jellybean to skip her way into the bedroom and fling herself onto the bed. It’s 30 minutes past breakfast time and in her mind she’s withering away. If you two sleep any longer there’ll be nothing left of her to feed. Navigating the mess of blankets, she stops right on Mingyu’s chest, close enough for her fur to tickle your cheek. The cold, pink tip of her nose nudges at Mingyu’s chin. It’s time to wake up. 

“Mingyu, stop, that tickles” you mumble, cuddling closer to him. 

Mingyu shifts in bed, reaching down to stroke your hair, “Babe, are you licking me?” 

His hand comes down onto Jellybean’s back and it occurs to him that the hair he’s feeling isn’t yours. It’s also purring. Tilting his head up, he cracks one eye open to see the hungry little face staring back at him. 

“Bean, what are you doing up here?” he giggles, petting the crown of her head so that her ears perk up. 

You let out a groan, knowing that if the kitty’s on patrol then sleepy time is over. “Come on, you can’t eat your dad.” 

Scooping her into your arms, you force yourself up in bed only for Mingyu to drag you back down. Even half asleep he’s twice as strong as you. Not that you’re complaining. 

“Where are you going?” he pouts, kissing you on the cheek, “I’m not finished with you yet.” Jellybean chirps, pressing a paw to his lips as he comes in for another kiss and Mingyu frowns like a disappointed child. Curved by a cat.

“Cut it out” you say half heartedly, a barely awake smile on your face, “Bean is hungry. Plus you have work today don’t you?” 

Mingyu’s eyes widen in shock. His heart sinks to the floor. It hits him all at once. The realization that he has no clue what time it is when he probably should. He nearly knocks the two of you off the bed as he bolts from the bed, grabbing his phone and staring in complete terror at the sight of the four missed alarms on his lockscreen. The usual glowing, honeyed tone of his skin turns pale as the panic sets in. It’s 7:45am. Work starts in 15 minutes. Fuck. 

“So I guess you’re not eating breakfast” you tease as he tears out of the room, darting to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

A few seconds later he scrambles back in, a toothbrush wedged between his pearly whites. He mumbles something, probably a comment about how you have a smart mouth and you’ll pay for it later, but you can’t take his threats seriously when he’s completely naked running around the bedroom like a chicken with its head cut off.

You try to be respectful to his current struggle, averting your eyes elsewhere, and yet they keep drifting back to the sight of his body. Those well defined arms, those abs you could spend all night running your fingertips across, an ass you could bounce a quarter off of—

Mingyu slips his underwear on, popping the toothbrush out of his mouth, “Am I a piece of meat to you?” 

You nuzzle Jellybean closer to your chest, offended at the audacity of your boyfriend to say such a thing. “Mingyu…”

Crawling back onto the bed, he brings his lips inches away from yours, a flirty grin playing on his them. “I can be a piece of meat to you if you want. I can make time. Just get the brat out of the way and…”

It’s oh so tempting but someone has to be the responsible one and, as much as you hate it, it has to be you. Stroking his cheek, you stare into the prettiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen and say words that pain you. “Not a chance. You’re already late for work.” 

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, shocked by the amount of restraint you’re showing. “If I’m already late. Why not make it later?”

His hand smooths over the blanket, massaging your plush thigh through the fabric. Now your body’s awakening in more ways than one. You dish out a light slap to his cheek, fighting off the tingle coming over you. “We’ll have time for that later but for now…work.”

Mingyu only stares back at you, devouring you with his gaze, patiently waiting for you to break but you never do. How he finds your stubbornness so annoying and so hot all at the same time is a mystery he’ll never solve. 

“Fine” he groans, giving you a toothpaste laced smooch on the lips before disappearing back into the bathroom. 

As he leaves, you let out a sigh of relief. “Close one, huh, Bean?” 

Turning the poor, starving kitty loose, you drag yourself out of bed and slip into the t-shirt thrown over the back of a nearby chair. You figure if Mingyu has to be productive then so should you. The walk to the kitchen feels eternal. You’re still yawning and rubbing your eyes when you fill Jellybean’s bowl with food, nearly losing your balance as you bend over to set it on the floor.

You consider for a brief second heading to the bathroom to get started on your morning routine but by the sound of it Mingyu’s bouncing off of the walls in there. Figuring it’s best to stay out of the way, you pop open the fridge and set out in search of a breakfast of your own. Having recently gone grocery shopping, the shelves are filled with every delicious food your heart could desire and every single dish requires you to cook. 

“Why does everything need to be cooked?” you whine, head thrown back in agony. “I don’t wanna.” 

Mingyu flies past you, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter, “Then don’t. Order out.”

“I thought we weren’t ordering out. Saving money and all that.”

“You can use my card. Just order the food, okay?” 

You stand there in silence staring into the void, hearing him but too lost in thought to acknowledge it. The ingredients in the fridge stare back at you. A useless array of items if nothing’s done with them. Mingyu slaps you on the butt. The quickest way he knows to snap you out of it. 

“Hey!” you squeal, spinning around to slap his hand away. 

Flinging the refrigerator door closed, he pushes you up against it, sweeping you into a kiss much deeper than the last. Not as tinged in toothpaste but more minty than you’re used to still. “Order the food” he mumbles, trailing kisses down your neck, “Promise.” His hands slip beneath your shirt, delighting in the plushness of your lovehandles. He’s getting himself started again. He probably shouldn’t but he can't help it. He never can with you. 

His palms are cold, sending a chill up your spine that makes you arch into him. “I promise” you relent, knowing you’re in no position not to give in. 

Giving your body one last squeeze, he swirls his tongue around yours, snatching himself away just as you’re really getting into it. “You said ‘later’, remember?” he teases, heading for the door. 

Picking up a nearby spatula, you wind your arm back in his direction. “I could throw this at you!” Your aim is immaculate. You have full faith in your abilities. Too bad Mingyu’s shoes are on and he’s already halfway out the door by the time you make up your mind to do it or not. 

“Love you!” he shouts over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway, leaving you defeated and too horny for 7AM in the morning. 

“Love you too” you huff, tossing the spatula back onto the counter. You’ll get him when he gets home or he’ll get you. That second one doesn’t sound so bad actually.

Sparing another glance at what’s in the fridge, you abandon any thought of financial responsibility and make your way back to the bedroom in search of your phone. Jellybean pays you no mind as you pass. Her food has been secured. You’re on your own. Turning back into your bedroom, you spot a phone at the foot of the bed. You scoop it up, flopping back down onto the bed. You nearly melt into the comfort of it, contemplating just going back to sleep and forgoing breakfast altogether but you know you can’t. You promised Mingyu afterall.

There’s just one problem. You can’t unlock your phone. Tapping in the code, you frown as the phone rejects it. It’s fine. Maybe you put it in wrong. You did just wake up. Putting the numbers in again, slower this time, you’re met with the same result. Incorrect. Then you notice it. This phone’s wider than yours and thicker too. That isn’t even your lockscreen. 

“Shit! Mingyu!”

Phone in hand, you race out of the bedroom and into the living room as fast as your legs will carry you. You push the window nearest to you open with every intent of screaming his name out at the top of your lungs—he always parks his car across the street in perfect shouting distance—but it’s no use. His car’s already gone.

Without thinking, you scurry back into the bedroom and hop into a pair of sweatpants. You pay no mind to the messy state of your hair or the mismatched rain boots that you throw on. Breathless, you race out of the door, car keys in hand, to catch up to your boyfriend. Two minutes ago you were threatening to throw a spatula at his head. Now you’re dropping everything to make sure your baby has his phone. 

Ah, romance. 

It’s not that you don’t know where your boyfriend works. 

It’s more so that you only have a vague idea of where your boyfriend works. You know that it’s some super nice gym tucked away on a quiet street downtown, somewhere in the general vicinity of a bookstore. Or was it a thrift store? A thrift store that sells books? He’s driven you past it a few times when the two of you were headed out for dinner with friends but you’ve never actually been there. Had you considered that before you left the house you might’ve just waited for him to double back for his phone but knowing your boyfriend he wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. 

Thankfully you didn’t get yourself completely lost. You recognized a few things here and there. Not enough to keep you from wasting a half hour driving in circles but enough to find it eventually. An unintended perk of  having wasted so much time is the current absence of rain. The clouds are clearing up, tiny slivers of sunshine breaking through as you push your way into the sleek air conditioned gym.

With all its shiny silver decor and glowing white accent lights everything here feels so sterile. The aesthetic is definitely clean. Almost medical in a way. On the walls are posters with barely dressed, muscular figures posing proudly on them. Motivational words paint the bottom of them. 

No excuses. 

Work harder.

Smile. Sweat. Repeat. 

You hear the faint sound of a 2000’s pop mix streaming from speakers strung high in each corner. In the distance there’s the thud of sneakers hitting a treadmill at full speed. Clearly this playlist has someone going hard. Good for them. You can’t say that you’ve ever been a gym girl. It’s never been your thing.

Honestly, when you first met Mingyu it was one of your biggest insecurities. A personal trainer who spends all of his time at a gym and a chubby girl who doesn’t even have a membership. What could you possibly have in common? As it turns out, everything. Well, almost everything. Mingyu never made you feel weird about it but, catching your reflection in a nearby mirror, you remember why you did. 

Most of the time you feel secure. Mingyu makes sure that you do. But there are other times, like now, that you question what exactly he’s doing with you. Fresh out of bed in your house clothes, wedged between “Sweat Is Just Fat Crying” and “No Days Off”, you feel utterly unfit to be here. 

“Um, excuse me, can I help you with something?” the receptionist calls out to you. 

“I—uh—” you stutter, blinking yourself back down to earth. Straightening yourself up a bit, you shyly approach the front desk and the drop dead gorgeous girl who runs it. 

In her expensive workout gear and her high slicked back ponytail, she’s the tiniest bubbliest thing you’ve ever seen. Her name tag reads “Lexi” and truly, what else would her name be? 

“Can I help you?” she repeats, twirling a gym branded pen around her fingers. She looks at you curiously. She’s smiling from ear to ear but you can feel her judgement...or is it all in your head? 

“Yes” you manage to get out, shrinking into yourself more and more by the second, “I’m looking for Kim Mingyu.” 

“Oh!” She seems thrilled at the sound of his name, “One second.” 

Swiveling around in her chair, she picks up the phone and clicks the button for the intercom. “Mingyu to the front desk please. Mingyu to the front desk.” Hanging the phone up, she turns her attention back to you. “He’ll be up in a second. So, have you been here before?”

“Aah, no. I haven’t—”

“First timer? Slay queen. It’s never too late to make a change.”

“Well, I’m not here for—”

“You’re gonna love, Mingyu. He’s great really. He’ll have all that extra weight off of you just like that.” 

She snaps her fingers. Poof. Magic. Chubby girl be gone.

“I’m actually—”

“And don’t tell him I said this…” she leans forward to whisper, a secret between two girls, “He’s, like, super hot. If getting in shape means getting a guy like that what other motivation do you need, am I right?” 

You woke up this morning feeling so nice. Loved. Desirable. How can all of that change so quickly? 

“Baby, what are you doing here?” Mingyu asks, freeing you from the smothering confines of this conversation. He appears around one of the corners, pulling you into a bear hug, “Everything okay?” 

“Baby?”  You catch the receptionist mouthing to herself. For her it’s the shock of the year. Of the century even. 

“Mmhmm” you nod, using what minimal free space you have to hold his phone up, “You forgot this.” 

“Oh my god, thank you. You drove all the way here for me?” Mingyu’s face lights up enough to blind you to the confused expression on your new friend Lexi’s face. Almost. 

“You’re the sweetest thing ever, you know that?” he gushes, smushing your cheeks together and kissing you all over your face. 

“Gyu, cut it out, there’s people around” you giggle, wiggling in his grasp. 

After a few more kisses he turns you loose, taking his phone and shoving it down into his pocket. “Now that you’re here, you wanna come meet my coworkers?”

That wasn’t a question. It was more of a command. You wanna come meet my coworkers? You’re gonna come meet my coworkers. Taking your hand, he’s got his heart set on dragging you to the back, but you resist, putting your full weight into staying right where you are. 

“I forgot. I have some errands to run.” You’re proud of yourself for thinking quickly on your feet. 

Mingyu turns to you, confused. “Errands? What errands? I thought today was ‘bedrot’ day. You even sang the celebratory ‘bedrot’ song last night.” 

You just laugh him off, gently running your hand along his bicep. “Well, ya know, a girl can’t bedrot forever.” Looking around the gym you see another poster. Another slogan. “No days off, right?” 

Unimpressed with your regurgitation of some cliche quote you saw on the gym wall, Mingyu narrows his eyes at you, more suspicious than ever. 

“Baby, I’m serious” you say, doubling down on your lie, “I’d love to meet them but I really do have to go. Another time?” 

The thought of meeting his coworkers makes you nauseous. The idea of what they’d think of you—of you two together—is enough to make you want to evaporate. What’s even worse, despite your insecurities, is the idea of Mingyu being upset with you. You give him the puppy dog eyes, the hardest thing for him to resist, and he melts that instant. 

“It’s okay, sweetie. Do what you need to do” he smiles and relief washes over you, “They actually invited me out for drinks tonight so you can come too, right?” Mingyu looks so hopeful, so sickeningly adorable. How dare he.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look happy about the trap you’ve fallen into. “Right. Sure. Drinks. Tonight.” 

A delighted Mingyu gives you another hug and a quick kiss. “Good and thank you again. I owe you” he winks and you wave goodbye, watching as he heads back to work and leaves you with the unrelenting stare you’ve been trying to avoid this whole time. 

“Have a nice day” you mumble, scurrying back towards the front door. 

Something is said behind you. The stiff, uncomfortable farewell of a person who realized that they’ve just said all of the wrong things. Even if she were to apologize now it wouldn’t matter. By the time you hop back into your car you’re already spiraling. Any thoughts about grabbing breakfast are pushed to the farthest reaches of your mind. You don’t wanna eat. You certainly don’t wanna go out for drinks later. All you want is to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-confidence but they’re scattered all over the floor of that gym and there’s just no way you’re going back for them.

Bedrot?

No, couch rot, actually. You aren’t sure if that’s a thing. If not, you’re pioneering it. The queen of couch rotting. With the exception of feeding Jellybean her dinner and a few quick trips to the bathroom, you haven’t left your spot on the couch all day. It’s almost 6PM. Not that you’d know the exact time. You haven’t so much as glanced at your phone since you got in. Your only hint of the hours having passed by is the arrival of dusk quietly creeping in beyond your curtains.

Draped across the couch, you stare at the TV as scenes of a show you’re hardly watching flash on the screen. You’ve cried, you’ve slept, you’ve cried again. When you’re feeling down a couple of naps typically do the trick. They make you forget all about the problem, if only for a little bit, but how can you forget the problem when you can’t stop wondering if you’re it. Is it really such a hard thing to imagine? That Mingyu could be your boyfriend and not your trainer? Is it really such a stretch of the imagination? 

“If getting in shape means getting a guy like that what other motivation do you need, am I right?”

Does everyone think that? That to earn someone like your boyfriend you need to get in shape? Get thinner? The possibility weighs you down like an anchor, assuring that you’ll never stop drowning. Never stop wondering. 

You’ll have to come up with an excuse for tonight. Something believable. Maybe you’ll say that you aren’t feeling well. You have been lying around the house all day. Method acting is what they call it. You never did order that food. He can check his card and see that you haven’t. Even more support for the fact that you just aren’t feeling well. As much as you want to meet his coworkers, you think, mentally rehearsing your story, the alcohol would only make things worse but he should go and have fun. 

“Next time” you’ll say, “Pinky swear.” 

A new episode of your show kicks on, a wistful theme song playing as the leading actor’s faces and names fade in and out. A rose tinted sequence of beautiful faces. You close your eyes, pulling the blanket over your head. Time for another nap—maybe this will be the one that fixes it all—but there’s no time. The sound of a set of keys jingling on the other side of the door sends your lids shooting back open. The door knob turns. The curtain’s rising. You hear those familiar footsteps. It’s time for your performance, kid. Begin scene. 

“Sweetie! Are you here?” Mingyu calls out, kicking his shoes off. He scans the apartment, noticing that the only source of light is from outside and what little is provided by the TV. 

You cough weakly, sitting up on the couch, “I’m here.”

Why did you cough? Terrible acting already. No Oscar for you.. 

Mingyu leans over the back of the couch, arms thrown over your shoulders. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” 

“No, I was just resting. I haven’t really been feeling so good today” you say, trying your hardest to look and sound the worst that you can. 

Circling around the couch, Mingyu kneels in front of you, taking your hands into his. With your eyes all red and puffy it’s an easier sell than you expected. His face twists with worry and you can’t fight the guilt brewing inside of you at the sight of him. 

“What’s going on? Are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“No, no. It’s not that bad” you assure him, subtly gaining strength in hopes that it’ll ease his concerns. “It’s just a stomach bug or something.” 

“Lay back down, okay?” he insists, thumbs petting the back of your hands, “I’ll go make you some soup.” 

“Mingyu, you really don’t have to” you start but he’s already guiding you back down onto the couch, hurrying into the kitchen to get some soup started for you. 

The clanking of pots and pans fills the space where any further protest from you might fit. “You just rest!” he shouts, “Let me take care of everything and don’t worry about tonight. We can always wait until you’re feeling better.”

You sink further into the couch at his words. “Until you’re feeling better” means he’ll bring it up again. It means you’ll have to fake sick every single time he mentions it but how long could you play that card before he started to get suspicious? Mingyu can only be distracted by his concern for you for so long before he suspects the truth, that you’re just trying to avoid it, and you’ll have to tell him why. 

“Mingyu, can you come here?”

Too busy raiding the fridge for ingredients, Mingyu barely hears you. “Hmm? You say something?” 

“Come here for a second, please!” 

You push yourself up on the couch, tossing the blanket aside. Mingyu’s there in a flash, ready to do whatever it is that you need. His eagerness to help you only makes you feel worse for having lied to him. You pat the cushion beside you and he takes a seat, bracing himself for whatever news you’re about to break to him. 

“Are you pregnant?” he blurts out and you clutch your chest in shock. 

“Pregnant? What? No. I’m not pregnant. Why would you think I was pregnant?” 

“Messy hair, baggy clothes, you’ve definitely been crying all day, and the ‘stomach bug’” he says, making air quotations at your fake ailment. “I know what that means, I’m not stupid.” 

Even at your lowest moment you can’t stop the laugh that escapes you at how absolutely adorable he is. “Oh, my love, I’m not pregnant.”

“Then what is? Tell me” he begs too sincerely to deny, “You know whatever it is, I’ve got your back. We’re a team, remember?” 

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you lace your fingers between his and settle into the comfort of his presence. Why are you lying to someone you don’t have to lie to? Mingyu’s your person. What is there to hide?

“You know the receptionist at the gym?” 

“Yeah, Lexi, what about her?”

“She…well…she thought I was your client.” 

“Why would she think that?” 

You pause, giving him time to process it. You can feel it when he does. His body tenses, the energy in the room shifting at the realization. 

“Did she say something to you?” he asks, standing up as if he’s ready to run back to that gym to confront her. 

You’re positive that he would. Mingyu’s probably the most gentle man you’ve ever met, you’ve rarely seen him get angry or raise his voice, but when it comes to you it’s never a problem to get a bit out of character. 

Your chest aches recalling the interaction. The casual tone of her voice. The shock on her face when he called you baby. “She was just surprised. I guess I can’t blame her. A girl like me walks into a gym asking for you and what else is she supposed to think? You’re literally built like a god and I’m built like—” 

Mingyu interrupts you on purpose, refusing to let you even attempt to put yourself down. “A goddess. You’re built like a goddess. Stand up.”

“Mingyu, no” you protest but he insists, grabbing your arms and forcing you up from the couch. Gathering the loose fabric of your t-shirt in his fists, he brings it flush against your body, defining every curve. “This body is the body of a goddess. It’s the body of the woman I love. I think it looks perfect next to mine.” Mingyu’s eyes are brimming with admiration and all he wants in this world is for you to feel it but you just hang your head, unable to meet his gaze. 

“But that’s not what other people think.”

“I don't give a shit what other people think. Look at me.” He scoops your cheeks into his hands, giving you no option other than to look at him—to accept the way he looks at you. “When we’re together I think that I can’t imagine being with any other girl. I think I’d lose my mind if I ever woke up next to anybody else. Don’t you feel that way too?”

Of course you do. That’s the silliest question he’s ever asked. You wouldn’t trade being with him for anything. It’s never even crossed your mind to question it. “I always feel like I’m right where I should be when I’m next to you, Mingyu.”

“Because you are,” he smiles, kissing the bridge of your nose, “You belong with me and nothing anyone else says could ever change that.” 

If you had any tears left to cry, even a single one to spare, you’d shed it for him and it wouldn’t be one of heartache or pain. It’d be pure love. Pure appreciation for the existence of a man who can so effortlessly fight off the fears you can’t face on your own, making them feel smaller and smaller until the only thing you can feel is his love for you. 

“I’m gonna go shower. Come with me” he says, his palm skating down your arm to take your hand in his. 

This time you don’t resist. Not when he leads you down the hall to the bathroom, humming as he flicks the light on. Not when he strips you of your clothes, slowly peeling them away until they’re nothing more than a pile of fabric at your feet. And certainly not when he wraps his arms around your naked figure, his tongue exploring your mouth as he pulls you under the warm water sprinkling from the shower head. 

And just like that you’re right back to where you were this morning. Before you walked into that gym, before the insecurities. You’re on your own planet again. Just the two of you. His soapy hands gliding along the contours of your hips. Your fingers combing through his slick, dark hair as he kisses his way down to your chin, burying his face in your neck to nip gently at your sensitive skin. You let out a whimper, your body shivering in his grasp, and Mingyu laughs, never sick of how cute you are when you make that sound. 

Your back arches, jutting your pillowy breasts forward, tempting Mingyu to take one into his hand. He can’t fight the urge to touch you. To feel the weight of it in his hand. So soft and bouncy. Your perky nipple slips eagerly between his fingers, just begging to be pinched the slightest bit. 

“Mingyu” you moan, nibbling at your bottom lip, a flash of heat hitting you so intensely you’d swear someone changed the water temperature. But no, it’s only Mingyu. It always is. 

“Do you remember what you were wearing the first day we met?” he whispers, his voice lost somewhere between lust and fluffy nostalgia. “It was really hot out that. I was walking through the park when I saw you in that crop top and those shorts…fuck…I know I shouldn’t have looked at you like that but your body was so beautiful, baby. Your belly. Your hips. Your thighs.”

Mingyu’s hands patiently glide down your figure, taking their time to indulge in the shape of you. It radiates from him—the admiration, the longing—and it has you melting. You part your lips to release another floaty moan and Mingyu’s right there, his mouth pressed to yours, hungry for the taste of it on his tongue.

“I can’t forget your face” he hums, breaking from the kiss, stars dancing in those brown eyes, “It’s my favorite thing about you. Just look at you.” One hand dances up to stroke your cheek while another dips between your legs, his fingertips ghosting your clit just enough to make you tremble. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Especially when you make faces like that.”

You don’t want to make faces. You want to look cool, calm, and collected—completely unaffected by his teasing—but it’s nothing you can help. Your body reacts to him just the way he wants it to every single time and there’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing he wants you to do about it. 

“Don’t start” you warn, playfully swatting him on the back of the head. Instinctively you wrap a leg around his waist, your actions immediately betraying your words. 

“Start?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t know what you mean. Start what?” 

Mingyu plays innocent but in the blink of an eye he sweeps you off of your feet, your back pressed to the wall and his arms tucked behind your knees. You lock your arms around his shoulders, terrified that you’re about to come crashing to the ground. 

“You can’t just pick me up like that!” 

Mingyu laughs, shifting your weight to make sure you’re secure, “I can actually. Don’t worry. All this muscle isn’t for nothing. I’ve got you.” He locks eyes with you, as serious as he’s ever been.

“I said, I’ve got you” he repeats, rocking his hips so that the head of his cock brushes your slit. You’re dripping, already clenching, and the slick warmth of you coating his tip has him licking his lips. “Just relax, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Relax? And put your full weight onto this man? You can’t. He’s out of his mind. He’s insane. He’s lifting into you and every thick, wonderfully veined inch of his cock makes you care less about how heavy you might be. The only thing on your mind is the motion of his hips, every stroke of his cock making your body sing the sweetest of songs. 

If he were honest he’d say that holding you up was harder than he thought but not because of your weight. Your walls are so velvety, hugging his length like you never want to let go. The pleasure’s almost too much. It takes everything in him to keep himself from falling apart. 

“Love you” he whispers, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Love you so much.” 

 “Love…mmph….you…aah…too” you squeak, the smile on your face making his heart skip a beat. 

Mingyu thrusts into you harder one good time just to watch your eyes roll back. Your nails dig into the tense muscles of his back but he’s too high from the feeling of you for the sting to feel anything other than good. 

“Say it again. Tell me you love me too” he demands, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs. 

“I love you too” you utter between sloppy kisses. 

“And you belong with me.”

He’s throbbing so deep inside of you that you’d swear you can feel it in your stomach. Your vision’s hazy. Your pulse is racing. It feels as if your very cells are vibrating. “I belong with you”. 

“That’s it. My good girl. My perfect girl” he coos, feeling you tighten around his cock. “Aww, you gonna cum, baby?” 

“Mmhmm” you whine, mindlessly riding his lap, desperate for more. 

This image of you will be burned into his mind for weeks. Legs around his waist. Pinned to the wall. Beads of water glimmering on your naked form. Clenching. Needy. Juices leaking down his cock as you cum around him, your walls spasming wildly as you take every inch. Every thrust. Every drop of him when he finally breaks, filling you until the warm white liquid’s dripping from your pretty slit. 

Are you levitating? You must be because he can’t feel himself holding you and you can’t feel yourself being held. You’re just here together floating in ecstasy. Peacefully. Effortlessly. As it should be. You can’t discern how much time has passed when Mingyu’s carefully lowering your legs, refusing to let you go until he’s sure you can stand on your own. 

“I’ve gotta get away from you” you tease, hopping out of the shower as quickly as your wobbly legs will let you, “You’re trouble.” 

Mingyu shuts the shower off, jumping out right after you to drag you back into his arms. “But you like trouble” he says, assaulting your left cheek with kisses. 

You roll your eyes and pout but you know he’s right. Any trouble you get from Mingyu is trouble you want. You couldn’t go without it. “Maybe.” Grabbing your towel, you tuck it around your body before tossing Mingyu his. “Now hurry up and get ready.”

“Get ready for…”

“I thought we were meeting your coworkers for drinks.”

Mingyu freezes, his system’s malfunctioning. He’s sure you didn’t just say what you said. “I thought you didn’t wanna go.”

“People change their minds, baby. Especially when they have boyfriends like you who make them feel like the prettiest girl in the world” you say, pinching his cheek, “I wanna be wherever you are. Unless you don’t want—”.

“Shut up, we’re going” he interrupts, “But first I gotta talk to you about something.” 

“Okay, what is it?” 

“We can’t talk about it here. It’s better if we talk in the bedroom.”

You stare at him skeptically, arms folded across your chest, “What can you talk to me about in the bedroom that we can’t talk about here?”

Mingyu lulls you into another tender kiss, sliding your towel up to massage your ass. “Get in there and I’ll show you.” 

You place your full trust in him, letting him blindly back you out of the bathroom and down the hall where your bedroom awaits, kissing you and caressing you, throwing off your entire sense of direction. It occurs to you as you cross the threshold of what you assume to be your bedroom and your towel hits the ground that you probably aren’t going out for drinks tonight. 

Chances are you’ll spend the night in instead, ending your day the way it began. Tangled in the sheets. Lost in him. Lost in each other. And that suits you just fine. You’ll see his coworkers when you see them. There’s no nervousness about it anymore. No fear. You’ve never known peace the way that you have with Mingyu. As long as you’re together everything’s as it should be and nothing can make you question that ever again. 

[bratbarzal]

you said i could send multiple requests and you wouldn’t block me

could you do roommate (or neighbour) nico with ³⁾ “i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.”

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

“i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.” with neighbour!nico!!!!! bc of course neighbour nico joins your boozy galentines, wears pink fluffy cowboy hats and sings horrific karaoke duets with you. why wouldn't he? not to toot my own horn (again) but beep beep this is a dream that I have had since lunch and I am not giving up on it now.

“I’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything I need to know about how your date went.”

You're locking up your apartment when Nico emerges from the elevator down the hall, shoulders slumped and face downcast as he trudges over to his door.

You'd seen him when you got home from work, earlier - dressed in a dinner jacket, hair all styled, shirt tucked neat - and he had told you he had a date. On Valentines Day.

And yeah, your heart had pretty much plummeted to the very core of the earth, but at the very least, you got to see him looking so good - a vision to store in your memory bank for a rainy day, when you're thinking too hard about how close he is, just across the hall, but so far away, only being your neighbour, and all.

And that was only an hour ago. Just enough time to get ready, yourself. Hair curled all nice, makeup done - the sexiest outfit you could possibly throw together, because it's girls night, and you deserve to feel your best.

A good date doesn't last an hour. Doesn't end up with a guy slumping home, hair all mussed from running his hands through it, jacket slung over his arm and his heart crushed into pieces.

"Got stood up," he huffs, reaching into his pocket for his keys, "Said she didn't realise I was a hockey player, and didn't think I had the brain cells to hold a serious, thoughtful conversation for a few hours."

"Ouch," you frown, feeling anger more than pity - because, wow, what a bitch!

"You look nice, though," he throws out the compliment almost as an aside, but you can tell by the way his eyes linger that he means it - fixated on the spot where your skirt ends and meets bare thigh. You're probably gonna freeze, but you're going to get some great pictures for your Hinge profile, so does it really matter? "Didn't realise you had plans."

"Going out with the girls," you tell him, "Galentines, 'cause we're all single this year."

He nods, his gaze trailing back up your body until your eyes meet, torturously slow, only enhanced by the darkened colour of his irises. "Have a good night."

"You should come," you tell him without thinking better of it - hypnotised by the low, sexy tone of his voice. It goes straight through you - almost takes control of you like a puppet on a string.

"I'm not a gal," he frowns, although he makes no move to go into his apartment.

"You're single, though," you shrug, "I don't think they'll be too fussy on the criteria once we get a few drinks in."

"Are you sure your friends won't mind?" he asks, eyebrow wiggling and head tilting in the adorable way it so often does.

You press your lips together as if you're rethinking it, casting your eyes slowly down his figure - broad shoulders, big arms practically bulging through his shirt, slacks clinging to his thick thighs for dear life. Your friends will have the time of their lives with this.

"Considering a night out only won the vote for what to do by fine margins, I think they'll be okay with it." You smile, knowingly, nodding toward the elevator, "C'mon, we don't want to be late."

"I don't get what that means, what came second?"

"Magic Mike." You smirk as you walk backwards, reaching to press the button and laughing when his jaw drops. "You take your shirt off later and we'll be golden."

The poor guy has no idea what he's in for.

--

Your girlfriends don't mind when you and Nico meet them at the bar, not once you've introduced him - his name not ringing a bell until you mention he's from the apartment next door, and you see the flash of recognition wash through them almost like cascading dominoes, knocking each other over one by one.

They don't know him as Nico, he's much more fondly referred to in your group chat as sexy neighbour, after all.

You've only been telling them about him for the past 18 months you've lived across the hall - regaling them with stories of bulging muscles carrying grocery bags for you, compression shirts sticking to him when he comes back from the gym, and the one time the fire alarm went off in summer, and he hadn't thought to put a shirt on when you met out the back of the building.

Yeah, sexy neighbour is pretty much a celebrity in your friend group.

They welcome him with open arms, and the night evolves, as they so often do in your friend group, in highly chaotic fashion.

It starts with a round of shots, because of course it does. The bar is rowdy, the music loud, and those tiny little glasses of you-don't-even-want-to-know-what loosen lips all around. Nico picks up on the dynamic of your group pretty quickly, shifting the shyness he had walked into the establishment with and charming them all with that same dimpled smile he got you hooked on the day you met.

Shots turn into drinking games - chugging cocktails, taking on dares, spilling secrets, and you learn so much about Nico that you would never have known otherwise, so much that you would never have had the guts to ask.

Drinking turns to dancing, which starts in a crowd on the floor, bodies all smushed together, and ends up on tables, Nico by your side the whole time, hooking an arm around your waist so that you don't fall.

You end up bar-hopping to an extent, the second place you go being a little quieter, and you're all way too drunk to stay, so you end up at the karaoke joint further down the street.

Your friends all pick the girls night classics, Man I Feel Like A Woman, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and there's even a full dance intermission for three of your friends to perform Single Ladies.

You all end up adorning fluffy pink cowgirl hats from god knows where, fluffy feather boas slung from your shoulders, and Nico is suddenly grabbing your hand, dragging you on stage, and handing you a mic before you're fully aware what's going on.

But by then you're too drunk to care, belting What Makes You Beautiful at the top of your lungs with him, still conscious enough to blush when he directs the lyrics towards you - as out of key and awful as they may sound.

And you don't know what happens between that and ending up at the club, bass thumping in your ears, blood pumping, skin sweating, and your back is pressed against his chest. You can still see flashes of feathers in your peripheral, your friends close by, but you can't really focus on anything else.

Anything other than the heat of Mr Sexy Neighbour, himself, flush against you, one of his hands holding yours to keep you steady, the other in the dip of your waist, and his breath warm on your bare neck. You lean into him more than you probably should - more than the sober you of tomorrow will be comfortable with, when you're bumping into him again and unable to look into those pretty eyes - and he leans in right back, nose at the junction where your jaw and ear meets, lips flush against your skin, where you hear him mutter, "I should get you home."

You nod, because what are you supposed to do, speak? With him looking at you like that?

Fat chance of that happening.

And he takes your hand in a firm, clammy grip, doing the rounds between those friends that still remain - the ones he hasn't had a chance to personally see off into a cab - telling them to text him if they need help getting home, and to text you when they eventually make it there.

He guides you practically the whole way home - helps bundle you into the back of a cab, buckling you in for safety and sitting in the middle, where you can lean on him with a heavy head, and your hand in his the whole way.

He throws an arm around you to help you stumble your way through the lobby of your apartment building, holding you up in the elevator and pressing the button for your shared floor. And then he props you up beside your front door, taking your keys from your purse and unlocking the door for you as you watch him with a tired but focused gaze.

God, you want him.

Is the world really so cruel that he would never want you back?

When he finally tries the right key and pushes the door open, he looks over at you, a heated gaze assessing if you're fit enough to send in on your own, and you imagine it's the way you blink slowly at him that tells him you're not.

You were just admiring him, really - your buzz wearing off, and the stumbles added for dramatic effect so that he wouldn't stop touching you - but he doesn't need to know that.

He makes a come here motion with grabby hands, and you practically launch yourself back into his arms, him accepting you with an amused smile as he walks you into your apartment, throwing your purse onto your counter and leaving your keys on the side.

You tug a little to steer him down the hall - in the direction of your bedroom, because if he's gonna play white knight, he may as well go the whole way.

"I had fun tonight," you tell him once he's dropped you off onto the safety of your bed, the bouncing motion only making you slightly dizzy again as you watch him stand before you, hands on his hips. "I don't want to say I'm glad you got stood up, but-,"

"I had fun, too." He tells you, dark eyes landing straight on yours as he slowly lowers, dropping to his knees in front of you and reaching for your leg. He starts unzipping your boots for you, and you watch him with what you can only assume are hearts in your eyes, a slow, dreamy sigh wracking through you.

"Wish I got to see you with your shirt off."

He laughs, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners and his shoulders shake - genuine amusement flooding through him as he looks back up at you, the angle straight up sinful and sobering.

He holds your other leg behind the knee, large hand warm against your bare skin, and slides your other boot teasingly slow - your gazes locked for the whole manoeuvre - his hand following down your leg until he discards both boots to the side.

He stays down there, kneeling in front of you, staring up at you with the prettiest eyes you've ever seen - a flush to his cheeks and a million thoughts racing through his brain.

You lean forward before you can think, and he meets you half-way in a kiss that's slow - sensual and pressured, firm and assuring - the taste of tequila on his tongue as it swipes against yours, which no doubt tastes the same.

He's the first to pull back, but it isn't all the way - just until your lips smack apart, his nose still pressed to yours as he avoids your chasing with a big grin.

"You're drunk."

"Don't care, wanna kiss you." You just about manage to catch him before he pulls back again.

"Not like this."

And then the touch of him is gone, the bump of his nose and the press of his forehead to yours disappearing in a way that makes you pout.

The way he kisses you again is quick - too quick to react, really - before he retreats again.

"You know where to knock when you're sober."

You let out a groan as you watch him leave, unashamedly watching his ass as he goes, eyes still lingering when he stops at your door and catches you with a knowing smirk.

"Happy Valentines Day, sexy neighbour."

[loredrinker]

Seeing Solas Through the Eyes of Cole

Currently working on a project, trying to paint a picture of Solas through the dialogue said about and to him in both games - the good and the bad. I love analyzing dialogue, so this has been a fun project, even if a bit daunting at times. The last few days I've been focusing on Cole’s lines specifically, and it’s interesting to see how much sympathy and emotional depth we get through Cole.  

When we view Solas through the lens of spirits - beings of emotion - it's understandable why many players find Solas sympathetic. Cole especially is a powerful lens for this because of the nature of this character, he doesn’t recall facts - he feels what others feel. 

Cole's dialogue after All New, Faded for Her, paints, I think, the most vivid emotional picture of Solas.  

Cole: Bright and brilliant, he wanders the ways, walking unwaking, searching for wisdom...   Solas: I do not need you to do that, Cole.   Cole: Your friend wanted you to be happy, even though she knew you wouldn't be.   Solas: (Sighs.) Could you... if you would remember her, could you do it as I would?   Cole: He comes to me as though the Fade were just another wooded path to walk without a care in search of wisdom. We share the ancient mysteries, the feelings lost, forgotten dreams, unseen for ages, now beheld in wonder. In his own way, he knew wisdom, as no man or spirit had before.   Solas: Thank you. 

As a man now and as time has gone by, Solas’ memories have become clouded by shame and regret. He can’t trust himself to remember his friend as it deserves to be remembered - without distortion. 

So he turns to Cole, a being closer to that spiritual purity, and asks him to remember his friend as he would have. 

But I love what happens instead. 

Cole responds by sharing how the spirit remembers Solas. This is rare - a spirit’s insight on how they view Solas - a memory of him, untainted by the self-loathing Solas carries. Cole knows what Solas needs even if Solas doesn’t and I believe Cole knows that part of Solas’ hurt is that he’s grieving not just his friend, but the man/spirit he was.   

“In his own way, he knew wisdom, as no man or spirit had before.”  

This was likely a spirit who had known Solas throughout his entire existence - as both spirit and man. The way it describes him is in the present tense: “He comes to me...” tells me that Solas, even as a man, continued to visit this spirit in the Fade. So the spirit sees him not as something entirely changed. Solas may have taken a different form, but his nature - curious, seeking, attuned to the Fade - remains the same.

We don't know for sure, but this spirit likely witnessed his transformation from spirit to man, his part in the destruction of the Titans, his rebellion against the Evanuris, the death of Mythal, and the long path that led to the events of Inquisition. I wonder, how many times did he turn to this spirit when he’d lost his clarity, seeking the wisdom he once embodied? Would things have gone differently if this spirit was still alive in the events leading to, and of Veilguard? Outside of Mythal, it may be the only being we meet in the games who has seen the entirety of Solas.

This spirit understood that Solas was wounded. Of course it did - it was a spirit of Wisdom. And when we consider its final words to Solas alongside Cole’s later dialogue, we gain deeper insight into the pain he carries.

“I’m happy. I’m me again. You helped me. Now you must endure”. 

Solas helped it return to it's purpose before it passed, and in return, it asks him to do the same: to endure. Not just physically, but spiritually - to live without losing himself and hold on to who he truly is beneath all the darkness and regret. 

I think part of the pain Cole feels in Solas stems from Solas losing himself. The theme of longing to be seen runs throughout Inquisition and Veilguard - in the Memories of a Duet Codex, in Solas telling the Inquisitor, “Few in this world can see me…,” and in his confession to a hurt Inquisitor, “You saw more than most.” He even states it outright: “I was Solas first.” And Solas is being buried beneath centuries of war, shame, grief, and every name hurled at him as an insult and in hatred.

To me, this dialogue offers a rare window into who Solas is beneath the darkness, strangled by years of violence and making choices against his nature. His capacity for love, his longing for connection - it isn’t a lie. It’s the part of him that can endure, despite everything. If the atonement ending is chosen, we see the full expression of that endurance.

To feel compassion for someone isn’t to excuse their actions - but there is power in understanding the emotional root of those actions. And if we choose to see Solas through Cole’s eyes (and through the eyes of the Spirit of Wisdom) – well, maybe we’ll find that he’s not that kind of wolf.  

*Note - there are theories that this dialogue is referring to Mythal, not the Spirit of Wisdom. Regardless of what you believe, this dialogue still paints the same picture of Solas. If it is Mythal, it's even more interesting as despite all their shared pain and hurt of each other, she still wants him to find happiness.

[charliemwrites]

Nikto's Commandments part 8! (and the first half of the Jealousy Duet).

I'll be honest, I got stuck with this one! For some reason I just couldn't get a good flow going and had to try writing this a few different times. I think it shows in the beginning, but I get the rhythm back towards the end.

Also, apologies if there are more errors than usual. I kind of powered through it and am too afraid I'm going to hate it if I try to read it over.

Anyway, please enjoy as always <3

Content: Jealousy, Acts of Devotion, Declarations of Love, Kissing

It’s your first mission since Nikto failed you.

(You may have forgiven him. He’s even accepted that you have, merciful as you are. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened – that he failed you. That he left your side, and then almost didn’t return. You’ve forbade him from hanging himself with “almost,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel the noose around his throat.)

You’re long since healed and recovered under Nikto’s devoted watch. Nurturing may not come naturally to him, but he’d bend himself into any shape for your use. So, he made himself into your caregiver. Weeks of helping you sit up, walk, bathe… until you were back in the gym, right by his side, gritting your teeth through physical therapy.

A scar is all that’s left now, silvery and tender. The only sign that Nikto’s world nearly bled away on dirty concrete. A reminder of his failure, his disgrace. How could he possibly deserve a place at your side, when he couldn’t even protect you? When he thought, for even a moment, that vengeance mattered more than your life?

Still, he returns to your side. Because you told him to, all that time ago. Because he has so much to make up for after everything. And because you haven’t given him leave to be anywhere else.

(He prays that you don’t the only way he knows how. Through meals from his own hand while you grin, nipping at his fingers. Through tea shared from one cup. With fragrant products in your wet hair while you sigh. You haven’t told him he could be anywhere else, beckoning him into a bed bigger than the one on base, still tucking in close like one of you might fall off the edge.)

It’s not that he thinks you incapable now. He would never blaspheme that you are anything other than utterly competent. It’s just that every blink superimposes pools of blood over his vision, a strobe of you near death.

In his most selfish, private thoughts, he imagines taking you away from it all for good. Tucking you away warm and safe in the cathedral of your off-base apartment, where a god belongs, in their own house. He soothes himself on visions of devoting himself to you fully and wishes he were a prophet. But for all you’ve given him, visions of the future are not one of them.

You were eager to return to duty, nearly cornered O’Conor once you got final clearance from the doctors. Nearly shook him down for a new assignment – for the both of you. Even if he had reservations about sending you to duty so soon, an opportunity to keep Nikto and his temper away a little longer was too tempting. (The bruises Nikto left on his throat were long gone, but the memory clearly was not.)

And so here you both are, in the gym of an SAS base, sparring with Task Force 141.

“Oi, lass! Care for a match?”

“Bring it, MacTavish!”

Nikto stands back to observe as you and the sergeant square off.

The 141 has been cooperative, despite previous tensions with KorTac. You, Nikto, and Konig have managed to build a decent working rapport – though most of that work has been yours. Their captain seems to like your friendly personality and straightforward professionalism; their lieutenant has been cordial. But the two sergeants (especially the Scottish one) have taken a liking to you.

“Fuck!”

Nikto jerks as you get taken down on your bad side – no, it’s not your bad side anymore. You’ve fully recovered; he must remember that. Interrupting a sparring match would be unwelcome and unnecessary. Not just overprotective on his part, but disrespectful to you as well, as if he doesn’t think you can hold your own. Still, he balls his hands into fists as you struggle against the sergeant.

At least you’re laughing, breathless and curse laden as it is.

“She is okay, ja?” Konig asks.

Nikto grunts the affirmative, eyes sharp as he watches you knee MacTavish’s side. Good, he thinks proudly as you twist to get on top. You’ve been working tirelessly to improve your groundwork techniques, learning all the different ways you can use your smaller stature against bigger and stronger opponents.

“He is… friendly,” Konig continues.

Another grunt of agreement. Most people are with you. It’s a natural reaction in the face of divinity; to reach out to a smiling god. It worked on Nikto, anyone else would be helpless. It’s just the natural order of things like green grass, blue skies, or gravity.

There’s a pause that starts to prickle the back of Nikto’s mind. Disinterested as he may be in socializing, he understands how it works. A program that runs in his mind – body language, tone, inflection, facial expression. A complex algorithm that computes to emotion, conversation, feeling. It’s just not an equation that applies to him, or that he can apply to himself anymore.

And right now, Konig is trying to imply something. Nikto cuts his eyes to the side, meets Konig’s.

“Too friendly, don’t you think?” he adds.

Nikto snorts and turns back to the match – where you are just tapping out. MacTavish is unwinding his arm from your windpipe. You’re sat between his legs, back to his chest. A tough position to get out from in a fight. As you’re scooting away, the sergeant pats your hip, leans to say, “good match” in your ear. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder and then push to your feet, sauntering back to your own team.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

You don’t see MacTavish’s eyes darting up and down your body, zeroing in on the sliver of skin revealed by your lifted shirt. But Nikto does.

“Mine,” Konig answers, stepping forward.

You smile at him, bump fists with him. “Kick his ass for me, yeah?”

“Ja.”

He shoots Nikto one last, pointed look before stepping onto the mat. But Nikto has no interest in watching his match. Not when you’re right in front of him, a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t believe I lost like that,” you groan. “Guess I need more practice.”

“We will practice,” he promises.

You beam and knock the back of your hand gently against his.

Like an insidious weed, Konig’s observation takes root and sprouts. Sergeant MacTavish’s friendliness.

It’s almost like Nikto is hallucinating again – or perhaps that he has just stopped. A veil pulled away from his eyes. A creature camouflaged in the brush, his eyes skipping over the landscape until an irregularity in the pattern was pointed out to him. And now he cannot stop seeing it.

MacTavish saying hello to you first every morning, asking how you slept with a twinkle in his eye. He offers to accompany you to training sessions, often chooses you first for cross-team drills. In downtime, he’ll invite you to socialize (with the rest of the 141, sure) and always save you a seat or a spot. Usually right next to him.

And it is not that he doesn’t acknowledge Nikto or Konig. He is amicable with both, works well with either of them when paired up. But there is always a tilt to his mouth when he speaks to you, a lilt to his voice. A subtle incline to his shoulders that makes every interaction seem just that slightest bit intimate.

A week into the assignment, and he is touching you freely. First a hand tapping elbow or shoulder. Then an arm around the back of your neck. Platonic, commiserating. Within a day, that arm drops to your shoulders and he’s leaning the side of his head against yours, something a bit warmer than a hug.

One morning, he scoops you up in a hug, your toes nearly off the ground. You seem surprised, reciprocate with a pat to the back before you’re set down and offered a chair.

And the sparring… the sparring gets worse. Not just an exchange of blows and a chance to improve skills with a new partner anymore. It’s become a game of teasing you, joking with you. Tagging you with hits to coax you into going after him. Wrestling with you on the ground and dragging it out while he grunts and huffs against you.

And Nikto… Nikto burns.

This is not hell, he knows; but maybe this is some form of purgatory.

He has no place, no right to suffer. Knows that trying to claim you as his own would be like trying to cage the sun. It wouldn’t just be selfish; it would be heresy. You’ve already given him a miracle; you told him you love him. That is far beyond anything he could deserve, anything he could hope or dream or long for. To take after all that, to demand more of the time, attention, energy you pour into him like holy water…

And yet.

And yet he wants to claw his skin off when MacTavish winks at you. Wants to set the world on fire when that accent purrs “bonnie” or “hen” at you. An awful, deafening static scream fills the fractures of his mind when you smile at the sergeant, when you wish him a good morning or evening.

“How are you with a sniper, hen?” MacTavish asks one day.

You hum, glance over at Nikto. He’s been training you with his own rifle for months now – though it’s obviously been on pause since your injury. “Well, I’ve been working on it, but I definitely need some improvement.”

MacTavish crosses his arms, biceps bulging against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers, if you want to come down to the range with me some time. Promise I’m a good teacher.”

You blink, hesitate. Then lightly, “Yeah, maybe!”

Nikto can’t hang himself on an “almost,” but he’s gutted on a “maybe.”

That night you come out of the bathroom frowning. There’s a furrow between your brows that you only get when you’re both frustrated and worried; if it stays, you’ll have a headache within the hour.

“Nikto?”

He glances up from the knives he’s polishing. You stop, eyes darting all over him, towel frozen in your hand.

“Hm?” he prompts.

You don’t answer. Instead, drop the towel carelessly on the floor and stride across the room. Towards him. He only just manages to shove his equipment out of the way by the time you reach him. And you don’t stop, climbing onto the hard desk chair he’s in, straddling his lap. Your fingers curl so tight in his chest straps that he can hear them creak.

He’s trapped as much by your gaze as your weight. Something swimming in the pools of your irises that he hasn’t seen in them before. Doesn’t know how to name or how to tame.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He jerks back in surprise, but you’ve got a solid grip and there’s nowhere to go.

“Did I… do something?” you ask. “Or… or not do something?”

He stares. “What?” he asks, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Your eyes are still darting between his, like you’ll find answers playing peekaboo between them.

“You haven’t been right the past few days. Maybe even a week,” you explain. “I’ve been giving you space to tell me, but you won’t. And I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, but please just talk to me.”

Now his brows furrow. “I haven’t been…?”

You sit back a bit, assured that you have his attention – as if that isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re not eating the same. Didn’t even take the green beans I put aside for you,” you say. “You’re not sharing my tea or letting me wrap your hands. You keep leaving for a smoke in the middle of the night. Hell, you’re wearing your mask in our room.”

It dawns on him like apocalypse. That he has been worrying you, affecting you.

“And you’re not… you’re not talking to me.” Your white-knuckled grip eases a bit as you run out of steam, sadness tinging your expression. “I know we don’t talk the normal way but… I haven’t been able to read you. You won’t look me in the eye or press our legs together. You’re even pulling away in your sleep.”

His heart is trying to claw out of his ribcage, wants to crawl into the palm you press to his chest.

“So… if I’m doing something or not doing something… you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset. I just miss you.”

He crumbles.

Weeks under torture, but he breaks at four words.

You gasp as he rips the gear off his face. Try to help, but he just pushes your hands away. Knows he’s aggravated the old wounds, but a balm is at hand, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“моя любовь,” he whispers fervently. “моя надежда. моя богиня.”

You curl around him instantly, arms around his shoulders, fingers fluffing through the fuzz of hair at the back of his skull. Gentle and kind and everything that sinners and saints would fall on their swords for. And yet all you ask of him is to speak, to confess.

“I fear,” he rasps into your skin.

“Fear what?” you ask.

He is your protector, your disciple. Yours to command, to damn, to sacrifice if you so wished – and he would gladly spill his corroded innards at your feet, careful not to bloody your shoes. And he fears that you won’t ask him to.

“You are not mine, but I fear losing you,” he admits. You suck in a breath, arms tightening around him. “If not to MacTavish, then to the world. I will be left here without you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the scars sear all over again, crushes his crooked nose against your collarbone.

“I am yours,” he whispers, lungs burning, “and I cannot be that if you are gone.”

You shift, pressing closer, tighter. Lay your cheek on his head and squeeze him so tightly he wonders if you’re not inviting him inside your ribcage.

“I thought you understood,” you whisper, and even that cracks with emotion. “I’m sorry, I thought I made it clear. I thought you knew…”

You urge him back. He wants to resist. Wants to stay right there in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the soap you two share, basking in your warmth. But you are bidding him to do something, and he is a weak man to your command.

Your eyes are shiny, but there’s a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You’re mine,” you assure him, “you will always be mine. I will never turn you away.”

His eyes flutter with relief. Always. He has no business questioning the truth of that. You’ve said it; it is so.

“I’m yours too, Nikto.”

His eyes snap open again, but you hold him still, hold him right there.

“Our love isn’t a cross for you to bear,” you murmur. “I belong to you the same way – the exact same way – that you are mine.”

“I don’t—”

“You remember what I told you in that car all those months ago?”

Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.

Your word is genesis. It is revelation. It is creed and commandment, redemption and atonement.

You’ve said it; it is so.

“Here.”

You snatch a pad of black ink from one of the desk drawers, grab at one of his useless, hovering hands.

“What are you—”

You smear his bare fingertips across the damp pad. Then press them to your forearm. He jerks his hand back, but it’s too late. His smudged fingerprints stain your skin in inky little pools. When he looks up at you, you’re grinning. Wide and beautiful and so damn proud of yourself.

“C’mon,” you coo. “Do it again.”

He hesitates. But his eyes are drawn back to his fingerprints on your skin. His mind echoes with your declaration.

You are his. You are his.

To deny you this, to deny your belonging, would be beyond blasphemy. Beyond sin.

You have said it; it is so. You. Are. His.

You beam as he takes the inkpad and gets his fingers wet again. Begins leaving marks all over you. Along your arms, over your collarbone. Lean back to get palm prints on your thighs. Sits you on the desk to smear lines up your calves. You even tug your shirt up, giggling all the while, so that he can mark up your stomach.

He pauses at the gunshot. Places his blackened thumb over the entry scar. Pulls it away to see the whorls of his fingerprint covering it.

You soften, kind hands cupping his jaw and guiding him up. Up and up… until your plush lips are slotted against his. His own stained hands land on your hips – likely ruining your little sleep shorts – and pull you as close as he can get you. Infusing himself with the taste of you, of your love, of your belonging.

“Yours,” you murmur against his mangled mouth.

“Yours,” he repeats.

The next day, you walk into the mess hall with Nikto’s fingers hooked into your belt loops. There’s a single black smudge on your jaw.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[lclordcrescent]

I decided that I will post the fanfic in chapters with illustrations. It will be much faster than drawing a comic. And from now on I will call the duet Vlad and King #cheese heads

(My English is not very good. And I am very worried about this 😓 If you see a mistake, write. I will definitely fix it)

Chapter One

The feeling of unease had been lingering in his mind all evening. And he couldn't figure out why. As if something was about to happen and he had absolutely no idea where it was coming from. This unease had made him start stress eating. He clapped his hands a couple of times and a fresh wheel of Gouda cheese appeared on his plate. There was no food left in this dusty and abandoned castle, but that wasn't a problem when you were long dead. He could conjure up any kind of dairy product in huge quantities. The power that had come to him after his death had turned his afterlife into a paradise. Until that moment, being in this empty, but so familiar, castle, he had felt like he was on a well-deserved rest, after so many years of running a big business and even more exhausting family squabbles. Halfway through the cheese wheel, he noticed a car approaching through the window. He had seen it several times before. It was the realtors' car. There had been many attempts to buy this castle, but either the place, after inspection, was not suitable for buyers, or HE made it so that it was not suitable for buyers. Nothing serious, just harmless pranks. But rumors about the ghost of the Dairy King were now circulating around the area.

Charles could not be called unsociable, but having become a ghost and having removed all the heavy responsibility from his shoulders, he felt a sweet, like Livarot, taste of freedom. He understood that he would not be able to scare people away from this place forever, and he had no desire to do so. He just wanted to prolong the idyll in which he found himself a little longer. With people living in his house, this would be more difficult. He did not know why he did not rest in peace, but he thought that someday everything would happen by itself and he would meet his father and his sister Mary.

The car stopped at the steps. Two men got out of the car. One of them was a realtor already familiar to Charles. A short man with small round glasses, a balding head, but with quite a friendly energy. True, he was a little nervous now. He was actively explaining something to the second man, approaching the gate. The owner of the castle decided to meet the guests to satisfy his curiosity.

Having flown through a couple of floors, the Dairy King found himself in the main hall. Having become invisible to human eyes, he hovered above the stairs to the second floor and ate the remaining gouda.

- ... The price is such only because of the proximity to the farms and this does not in any way concern those stupid rumors about the ghost of the former owner of the castle, I assure you. - said the realtor entering the castle. He nervously rubbed his hands and there was hidden anxiety in his voice.

- Don't worry. I'm not afraid of ghosts.

The man who entered after the realtor began to look around the hall. And the King is his.

A man in a black suit and red tie, with completely gray hair pulled back into a small ponytail. His face had barely noticeable traces, as if he had had smallpox. He looked around with a strange mixture of curiosity and melancholy.

And then the man jerked. He exhaled sharply and pressed his hand to his chest. He squinted, turned to the stairs and began to peer straight at where the ghost was. Charles felt his gaze on him and was taken aback. If he had not been a ghost, he would have definitely choked ... He saw him. They both looked at each other in shock. But Charles's shock became even greater when, looking into the man's eyes, he recognized his nephew in him ...

- ... Um, Mr. Masters? Can we continue the tour of the castle?

The man ignored the realtor's questions and continued to stand without looking away for about a minute. Then he abruptly turned on his heels and went to the exit of the castle.

- I'll take him. - he said as he left. He got into the car without turning around once.

And the King stood there with a plate of cheese. And for the first time in many years, he was sure that he would not be able to swallow another bite.

[jasminerva]

it's the thought that counts

various SakaDays dudes x gn!Reader SFW, clothing implied but never assumed Yumi (seikoo_11) sent me a very sweet message and idea! Gaku and Nagumo were all her, but I wanted to add all the other dudes on my mind because they all deserve love~! Banner img from some SAO game art thing. 🎄🎁 Happy SakaHoliDays to all~! ✨🎉

The holidays were a time for surprises, and you had cooked up the ultimate one for your SakaDays dude.

Decked out in ribbons, you struck a playful / seductive pose and announced, "Merry Christmas! I'm your gift!"

The twist? Hidden somewhere beneath the intricate bows and wrappings was an actual present, tailored just for them. The look on their face was priceless as they realized they'd have to unwrap their "gift" piece by piece to uncover the thotful treasure you'd prepared.

What better way to celebrate than with a little fun and a lot of love?

✨ ݁ ݁⋆.ೃ🎄₊ ⊹🎁🎀 .°.✨

Gaku: A game he'd been interested in playing (how did you even notice? he gave no tells.). He unwraps you with a mix of laziness and faux indifference. He teasingly asks if the gift came with any DLC and when you say "Yes" in that particular tone, things heat up.

Nagumo: A box of Pocky tucked just out of reach ("Hurry up~" you say, "it's gonna melt!"). Every ribbon undone feels like a playful battle, and by the end, the real gift was the fun of "unwrapping" you - plus, the promise of enjoying the real treat later.

Uzuki: An art instruction book. His cheeks flush as he delicately undoes each bow, mumbling how you're more beautiful than any masterpiece he's seen and could ever dream of illustrating. (You end up redder than he is.)

Shin: A manga volume he's missing. He hesitates, blushing furiously as he fumbles with the ribbons, only to stammer out a heartfelt thank-you after. You can't wait to spoil him some more later, so you decide against spoiling the extra surprises (let's just say it involves checking more things off his list - Shin knows cuz he can read your mind and your smug face).

Shishiba: A luxurious silk tie and tie clip to add to his collection (tell me he doesn't have one of those walk-in closets with lux items encased in glass that he rotates through). He takes his time unwrapping, quietly amused by your boldness, before thanking you with a soft smirk and puts the tie around you to see how you look (with just that on - nothing else).

Hyo: Metal/brass polish. He roars with laughter at the practicality and promises to "shine up" just for you. You tell him he's already dazzling and he glows from your compliment (+ the offer to spoon him afterwards).

Heisuke (+ Piisuke): Bird & boy-friendly snacks. His excitement is infectious, as he grins ear to ear, quickly tearing through the ribbons (somehow tangling you up further before Piisuke helps out) and hugs you like you're the best gift ever.

Natsuki: Spare lithium battery packs for his invisibility suit. He unwraps you with methodical precision, smirking as he asks if this counts as "charging up for later".

Mafuyu: A UV light wand. He's irked at first, carefully untying the ribbons, but the corners of his eyes crinkle and mask shifts slightly when he sees the thoughtful gift. Why's he using it on you--?!

Amane: A personalized activity booklet. His quiet curiosity grows as he unwraps you, and his soft smile is worth every ribbon as he eagerly flips through the pages, memorizing them all instantly. He wants to start ASAP but you remind him that things are closed for the holidays and he blushes ("no no it's okay" god he's adorable).

Kashima: A handwritten IOU on reindeer stationary for a karaoke session. He chortles when he reads it, pulling you close and saying, "I expect a duet." (This would be the perfect time to put the light up Rudolph nose on him.)

Kaji: Hi-fi earplugs and a new, festive trapper hat. He laughs softly, mumbling too quietly about how much he appreciates you and the gift. He doesn't think he could pull it off but you convince him that he'll be the talk of the town and deserves to feel special.

Apart: Instead of wrapping yourself, you take the ribbons and gently wind them around the two of you, pulling him close with a smile. "This way," you say softly, "we won't be apart this Christmas." He melts, flushes, and tightens the ribbons around your shared embrace to nuzzle against you and hide his face (can't even see anything under his messy bangs anyway).

Haruma: He holds onto one end of the ribbon and tells you to spin and unravel yourself. Not in a dominant way (kinda), but in a personal trainer way (sobbing the winter holidays is when we're allowed to potato!). No gift on you, except a signed affidavit witnessed by Uzuki (& Kashima in case it wasn't the right Uzuki) saying that you worked out earlier and deserve something sweet. (Protein-baked goodies aren't half bad tbh, but Haruma would treat you to whatever you love, even the bad macro stuff - you'll burn it off later anywho ;)

Sakamoto (platonic): You've ribbon-wrapped Sakamoto for Aoi, tying a big bow around his belly, slapping it for good measure, with a cheeky grin. "Merry Christmas to the family man!" you declare, shooing him away. You'll watch over the store during the holidays so he can spend time with Aoi and Hana-chan.

Merry Christmas & Eve~! Depending on where you're located~ Artists of all mediums give so much to you and me~ be sure to wish your beloved creators a Happy Holidays~! Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist! 🍑 Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

✨ ݁ ݁⋆.ೃ🎄₊ ⊹🎁🎀 .°.✨

Extras under the mistletoe 🌿🍒:

Yumi's cutieful art of Nagumo in ribbons *fans self* that I requested. Do you think he'd let you wrap him up too? Oh def yes. THANK YUMI FOR SPARKING THIS POST & GIVE HER ALL THE LOVE + FOLLOW HER ON TWITTER PLEASE AND THANK YOU~!

Kaji's new hat. Call him cute and ask him for a ride~! ;3

I knew I could count on Korean TWT for red-nosed Kashima art. If you see more, please do share~! [adding as I happen upon them: sakori00, No_Eul_0, yant2k]

Also, LOOK AT HIM! PINKY ALL THE WAY UP KASHIMA!!! He prolly sings enka / operatic style. He's as refined as Shishiba but totes it loudly and proudly. (Thank you again, Yumi, for finding the extra!!!)

Tie clip + fancy tie was brought up by Lao (@herringstrait) in passing conversation. They even found this beauty!

¥13,200 for Mr. Fancypants. I bet it's functional too. Shishiba already has a hammerhead shark pin I'm sure he'd appreciate this!

[cherubkissesx]

voice of an angel

pairing: female! bau reader x spencer reid and the bau

content: pure fluff, established relationship between reader and spencer, reader singing karaoke, one use of y/n other than that none

a/n: hello! this is my first one shot so please be kind :) this is quite a short one so i hope you all enjoy! this idea came to me when i listened to this song and thought it’d be a cute one shot

you and the rest of the team decided after a long hard case you all needed a well deserved drink. after you all had gotten a drink and secured a table, the sound of singing filled the bar. what you all hadn’t realised was that this bar was a karaoke bar and you all had to endure peoples screeching singing voice.

you had began feeling a bit tipsy as you were now 4 vodkas deep and you could feel that familiar hazy feeling washing over you.

“hey” emily said rather loudly without meaning to which caught the whole teams attention. “hello?” you said confused.

“you should go up there and sing a song” emily smirked. “no i can’t sing.” you said.

“come on! it’ll be fun!” jj said jumping in. “i bet you’ve got a powerhouse of a voice hidden under that quiet demeanour sweetness, i bet it’s all a facade.” derek added.

“she has.” spencer said innocently and then looked at you smirking. “spence!” you said your cheeks reddening as he had just revealed your secret.

“oh well you must go up!” rossi said enthusiastically. “all those girls nights we’ve had where we’ve sang the soundtrack to our favourite movies and you’ve never bothered to mention you can actually sing!” penelope shouted. “i feel hurt” penelope said feigning hurt.

“sorry!” you laughed. “we want to see what voice you’ve got hidden.” emily urged. “it’s great.” spencer said and you glared at him.

you downed the rest of your drink needing some liquid courage to get you through this three minute performance. “fine!” you said slamming your empty glass down on the table and walking over confidently to the man who controlled the songs and whispered your request in his ear.

“i think i know what song she’s going to sing.” jj said. “i feel like we’re thinking the same thing” penelope said. “oh well, she’s definitely going to sing it must’ve been love it’s from pretty woman and we usually do a duet not to mention it’s her favourite movie.” emily smiled.

“a classic” rossi added. “i didn’t know you were into romcoms, rossi.” emily laughed “i can appreciate any julia roberts movie” rossi smiled making emily snort loudly.

when the familiar beat kicked in the three women looked at eachother smiling confirming their suspicions.

you glanced around nervously at all the drunken faces staring back at you when your eyes landed on your team and spencer all staring back at you smiling, even hotch had a little smirk on his lips.

“lay a whisper on my pillow” you sang softly.

you sang the rest of the song effortlessly the words just flowing easily as if this was natural to you, sure you sang all the time in the house alone or when spencer was around but you could never do this confidently infront of anyone else let alone an entire bar full of people and your colleagues.

you noticed that the team had gotten out of their seats to get a closer look at you, hotch pulled out his phone and started recording which made you giggle a little. you knew these people were family.

when you finished their was a soft applause from the audience that had gathered to watch you which had you shocked. you made your way towards your team, your cheeks flushed from all the unusual attention you were receiving.

“you were amazing!” penelope exclaimed embracing you. “well now you’re going to outshine me on our future duets of this song.” emily pouted and you laughed. “the requirements from now on for girls night is that y/n must put on a performance for us!” jj said.

“voice of an angel.” spencer said sweetly planting a kiss to your forehead and pulling you into his side. “thank you guys” you smiled shyly. “now’s not the time to get shy!” rossi exclaimed and you laughed.

“you managed to make hotch pull out his phone and record you because of your sweet voice” derek winked and hotch smiled and pulled out his phone to play the recording.

“you should ditch the bau and become a singer” emily joked. “in another life maybe” you smiled fondly.

you all headed back to your table and enjoyed each others company knowing this memory will forever be etched in all of your minds.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 10 - The King

Chapter Summary - Hongjoong and Y/N have some much needed bonding time.

warnings: mentions of child death, grief, Hongjoong is infuriating, smut

Series Masterlist

MINORS DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT

The documents I found in the library were full of knowledge that had never been printed for the public eye. Aurora had gotten so close, even having a list of suspects that she'd narrowed down to five people. I'd reviewed the documents secretly, keeping the papers under my bed the nights Jongho or Mingi would spend with me.

Seonghwa had started spending time with me during the day, even letting me teach him some of the ballet duets I'd learned over the years. I could really tell he was a fan in those moments, his eyes lighting up with the slightest bit of excitement.

I hadn't forgiven him, nor had I worn the ring yet. I don't think they deserved to see that yet.

On the nights Mingi or Jongho wouldn't stay with me, I'd stay up late working through the work that Aurora had left. Now that we were nearing the final show day for Coppélia I had more nights off during the week, only performing Thursdays through to Saturdays, which left me plenty of time.

Aurora had discovered another tell aside from poison. All of The Cobra's victims were 100% targeted. Not just random killings of the rich, no, it was calculated. She'd highlighted potential reasons why they would be targeted and who would be the killer for those reasons.

It made me wonder how many I knew now who had targets on their backs or still do. Did ATZ have one? Is that why Aurora was so stubborn in investigating?

One night I had gone downstairs for a glass of water. It was colder than usual tonight, I figured it would start snowing soon since the holidays were right around the corner.

As I climbed back up the stairs to go back to bed, I noticed the light under Hongjoong's office door was on. It wasn't unusual, I knew he'd stay up late most nights to work. However, it didn't stop my feet from carrying me towards the door. I had so many questions, and for some reason, I believed they could be answered by the most infuriating man I have ever made conversations with.

I stop at the door, I can't hear anyone inside, but I know he's in there. He's probably still in his work clothes, his hair messy with a stern yet concentrated look on his face. I softly knock on the door, hearing a groan from the otherside.

"Seonghwa, don't lecture me again." Hongjoong grumbles from the other side. Ny hand finds the handle, and I turn it, the door clicking softly as I push it open. "Seriously, I'm almost-" He finally looks up, realising it's me. "Oh."

"Hi." I say, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me.

"Why are you awake?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

"I could ask you the same thing." I respond, earning a quirk of amusement on his features.

"I'm working." He answers simply. "Couldn't sleep?" He asks.

"Yea." I answer, taking a seat in the plush chair across from his desk, one that wasn't there the last time I was in here. The place was tidier. Maybe he cleaned it thinking I'd come back inside.

I always had trouble sleeping around the holidays. Everything that could have happened back home happened around this time. And I mean everything. It was like a higher being had purposely put a curse on my family out of spite.

"You and I have that in common." Hongjoong smirks, placing his pen down probably for the first time in hours. "However I don't think you enioy my company much."

"I don't." I confirm

"Then why are you here?"

I hesitate for a moment. Would he react badly if I started asking questions? I made a promise to them over dinner that I wouldn't investigate anything, that I was just curious and wanted to know as much as I could. Eventually, I did let it slip to them about what I thought had happened to Chalita, before Hongjoong had told me she was alive, and I think the understanding was met.

"I want to ask questions." I say finally.

He nods slowly. "Go ahead."

"How much did you know about The Cobra?" I ask. He leans back in his seat, his right hand coming to hold up his head as he thinks for a moment.

"I know enough." He answers. "He tortured our world for years, killing those who he believed deserved it."

"Aurora thinks that his killings were targeted." I say, his face gave me no tell of how he was feeling in that moment.

"She'd be right, I suppose. It makes sense." Hongjoong says, standing up from his seat. His suit was a little crinkled, and his tie was loose, probably from fiddling with it. "He was an intelligent killer. I found it hard to believe that he just killed for sport, it would be a waste."

"And how he killed them... All their deaths were so specific." I say, sitting up in my seat. "Like Mr Sun. He has his face burnt off right after his modelling company sky rocketed through the market." He looks back at me, a tinge of interest in his eyes.

He hums in agreement, connecting the dots in his head. "It's a long shot."

"A long shot?" I scoff, standing up. "Are you kidding me?"

"Well, what do you want me to say? That I agree with you? So you'll run off and do the exact same thing Aurora did and get yourself killed?" He snaps. He'd never raised his voice at me, not yet anyway. I got the impression he was more of the teasing type.

"It would be nice, yknow. Considering you've done nothing but tease me since I arrived." I argue back.

"I thought you liked it?" He laughs.

"Well I don't! It's infuriating- You're infuriating!" I groan, throwing my hands up.

"Alright then princess." Hongjoong says, leaning against one of the bookshelves. "Keep ranting. What else do you hate about me?"

"It's not just you! It's everything about this place." I exclaim. "Only two of you talk to me and actually treat me like they want me here. Hell, Seonghwa is the one who invited me here, and he treats me like I'm some innocent doll for him to play with. And you -" I point my index finger at him, which makes him raise his eyebrow. "- You are one of the most immature men I have ever had to displeasure of knowing. Do you never take anything seriously? And when you do, do you always expect everyone to agree with you because guess what, they don't!"

He watches me, his expression showing a hint of pride at my outburst. He lets me rant for a while longer, about the other boys, that stupid ring Seonghwa gave me, and his stupid apology, the rules, and keeping me in the dark. Eventually, when I stopped, he grins widely, a laugh escaping his lips.

"You continue to surprise me." He cackles, shaking his head as he looks out the window.

"This is what I'm talking about!" I say, frustrated. "I tell you how I feel, that I'm upset, and you laugh at me!"

Hongjoong stops laughing, looking back at me. "You're really upset?" He says, scanning me for a moment.

"Yes! I've been saying that for weeks." I says, feeling my eyes burn.

He stands there for a moment. The amusement on his face vanished now.

"It's been a while since I've had someone voice their feelings so openly." He says, moving around to sit back in his seat. "When you spend so much time with someone, you just get the feeling that somethings wrong."

I stand there, my arms crossed.

"I should have listened." He says softly, looking me directly in the eye. "Please. Sit." He says.

I sit down, my arms still crossed over my chest.

"Aurora and I met through a business exchange." He says. "Before my parents passed, her and I were betrothed to one another." I look at him in surprise.

"As we got older, we grew to love each other. The others loved her too, and she loved them.. It was -" He stops finally looking into my eyes. "I want that with you." He whispers, leaning forward in his seat.

Something flutters in my stomach, and I break away from his gaze. I wanted it, I really did. To be loved so fully, that material goods wouldn't make me feel the same type of happiness.

"The Cobra isn't gone, Hongjoong." I say softly. "He could have a target on any one of you."

He nods. "I know, but the safety of you and them comes first." He says, pointing towards the door. "One wrong move and everything that I've ever loved disappears."

I shut my mouth, my eyes lowering in understanding.

"I know. But I've lost everything." I whisper. "He took everything from me."

"What happened in that house, Princess?" He asks gently, standing up and moving around the desk to lean against the front of it, in front of me. "Talk to me. I'll listen this time."

I look up at him as he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I thought Chalita was dead. You all know that now." I start. "I had another sister, Chaluai, she died at only 12 years old." His eyes soften as he listens. "I wasn't there when she passed... I had already run away, but I saw it on the news."

"5 years ago. I remember." He says softly. "They said she died in her sleep."

"It's a lie." I say. "She had been sick for months beforehand, the doctor found poison in her system around a month in, and my mother had everyone in the house fired."

"Poison?" Hongjoong raises an eyebrow.

"I can't remember the type, but yes."

"That sounds..."

"Like The Cobra?"

He nods at my words. "It seems like your family had a target on it's back." He says, his voice grim. "Maybe it was a good thing you ran away."

"I should have left sooner and taken her with me." I say, fiddling with my fingers.

"You should never blame yourself for things you had no control over." He says, moving to kneel in front of me. "You were a child too."

I watch him carefully as he takes my hands in his, his eyes never leaving mine. I liked this side of him, how he'd listen intently to every detail I said.

"Believe me when I say it's not your fault." He whispers. My eyes start to burn as tears threaten to spill, and he reaches up to cup my cheek.

"So you do know how to comfort people." I joke, fighting back the tears. He chuckles softly, standing to kiss my forhead before taking the seat beside me.

"I get it from my mother." He says.

"Tell me about them. Your parents." I say softly. our hands still holding tightly to one anothers.

"They were good people, didn't deserve what happened to them. Same with my brother." He says, looking down at our hands. "I was happy, we were happy. Then it all just got stripped away."

"It's hard... Losing your family." I say softly, squeezing his hand.

"It's strange how we all lost our families, yet all found each other." He says with a small smile.

"No one has a family?" I ask, I knew Jongho had lost his, but the others?

"Pretty much, everyone. San still talks to his sister." Hongjoong says. "Our parents however, are either dead or want nothing to do with us."

I felt a pang in my chest, maybe we weren't so different.

"Something on your mind, Princess?" He asks softly.

"A lot of things." I whisper. "I think a lot."

"I can tell." He chuckles. "I find it endearing."

I woke the next morning in my own bed. Hongjoong and I had talked for hours, and I must have drifted off not long after he started showing me some of his work. Funny.

I get out of bed and get ready for the day, I can hear them all downstairs already. Their lovely voices ricocheting up the stairs. I smile as I follow the noise. It had been a while since it was like this.

"Good morning!" Wooyoung chirps as I enter the dining room, the seat next to him open. I sit down, saying good morning to them all as I look out on the food before me.

"Pretty girl, can you pass me that?" Jongho asks, sitting across from me. I feel my cheeks burn at the nickname and hand him a butter knife.

"Sleep well?" Hongjoong asks from the head of the table. I give him a knowing look and nod, earning a wink from him.

The boys continue to chatter, their voices mingling as I try to listen to everyone at once. Even Yunho was chatty, his laugh boisterous as Mingi cracks a joke mid-conversation.

I wanted this. This is the life I wanted with them. I wanted to be in their circle, I wanted to love them and to be loved. It felt weird to finally admit it even to myself. It had been months now, and such little progress had been made. Maybe they were waiting for me to make a move this whole time?

"I have my final show next week." I finally speak up when their conversations die down. "I want you all to come."

Seonghwa smiles brightly. "The final show already? It feels like it only started a few weeks ago."

"You really want us there?" San asks, his eyes watching me curiously.

"I do." I say softly, glancing at Hongjoong.

"We'll come." Hongjoong says, taking a sip of whatever was in his mug, and I'm fairly sure it was alcoholic.

I smile widely at his answer. A few of them smile back, while the others turn their attention back to their meals.

After breakfast, Hongjoong asks me into his office. He takes my hand when we're out of sight and leads me back up the stairs.

He twirls me as we enter his private space, closing the door behind him with a soft click and locking it. He strides towards me next, pinning me against the front of his desk.

"You forgot something last night." He says, his gaze sending shivers down my spine.

"And what would that be?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He grins before leaning in, sealing my lips in a kiss. He pulls away briefly, his grin widening even more when I chase him before pushing forward again.

His hands grip my hips as he deepens the kiss, letting out soft breaths as our tongues collide.

When we finally pull away, he rests our forheads together, catching his breath.

"You're perfect." He whispers before leaning back in.

His hand travels under the hem of my dress, his fingers dancing lightly across my skin. I jump up to sit on the desk, the dress bunching up around my hips as he stands between my legs. Our lips never break apart, like it was the only thing keeping us alive.

"Can I have you?" He whispers, his lips pressing sloppy and desperate kisses to my jaw and neck.

"Yes." I respond softly.

He brings his hands up and starts to unbutton his white button-up, slowly shrugging it off of his shoulders. I noticed a scar on his abdomen but decided to ask about it later. He groans as I reach forward to palm him through his trousers.

"I need you so bad." He says, his voice almost pleading. I had the leader of one of the most notorious mafia gangs begging for me.

His fingers push my panties to the side, one finding my core and slowly pushing in. He watches my face as my mouth hangs open in pleasure.

"Hongjoong.." I moan softly, my hands gripping his biceps. He shudders at the sound of his name on my lips.

"You're soaked, and I've barely touched you." He chuckles, pumping his finger in and out of me at a steady pace.

"Can I ride you?" I ask, surprising myself.

"Absolutely." He says, quickly removing his finger and hustling to undress himself further. I do the same, hopping off the desk and pulling my clothes off one by one as I follow him arlund to his desk chair.

He sits down, his hair a mess, and his erection is standing proud. I straddle him, his hands instantly finding my waist as I do so. He reaches a hand down between us as I brace myself on his shoulders to guide himself to my entrance.

His head rolls back as I slowly sink down onto him, a low moan escaping his lips. His hands gently massage my waist as I adjust to the position, his eyes on me as I started to move.

I rode him with expert skill, my moans lingering with his as we both chased our pleasure. His hands guided my movements, whispering soft praises into my ear.

"Good girl.." He says with a happy sigh. "Doing so well for me."

I whine softly as he bucks his hips up. "Can you go a little faster?" Hongjoong asks, almost sweetly. I nod, bracing myself again as I start to move faster. He bucks up into him, timing our movements perfectly that made me see stars.

"Perfect." Hongjoong grunts, his release rapidly approaching.

I could feel my orgasm slowly reaching its peak. My thighs burnt, and I'm sure Hongjoongs shoulders were in pain from my nails digging into his skin, but he didn't care. He was too focused on me, just me. His eyes never left my face, my body sonce we started. He wanted me.

"Gonna cum?" He questions, feeling me clench around him. "Cum for me." He says, his voice low but desperate. The encouragement was all I needed to push me over the edge, my orgasm triggering his own.

I relax on top of him, his arms wrapped around me in a comforting embrace. On hand, rest behind my head as he presses kisses to my forhead, the other rubbing my back.

"You okay?" He asks softly, his fingers gently tangling inbmy hair.

"Yea.." I whisper, my head resting on his shoulder.

We sit in comfortable silence, neither of us wanting to move away from the others' embrace. For the first time ever, I felt safe with Hongjoong, and I knew the others would be the same.

I just got to give them a chance.

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[wolfythewitch]

So I recently listened to Frankenstein - A New Musical, after I already read the book, so I was wondering what are your thoughts are on it as someone who hadn't read the book beforehand?

Also which song is your favorite?

For me, I kinda only really like 7 of the songs, and of those I think my favorite is "The Proposition" although "These Hands" does go really hard.

(Completely unrelated, but I want you to know I absolutely adore your JonTim art, and the last comic makes me want to chew on drywall.)

I liked all the songs haha, but I think my favorites would be Coming of the dawn, the chase, the duet from Happier day, and the part in The music of love where the creature sings with the family. The Proposition is also really good I just really like their voices hahaha

It is Really funny seeing how much more noble his reasons for creating life was in the musical vs the book. I'm sure his mother's death contributed some to his motivations but in the musical it's like front and center ish, and that's neat. I'm not too far into the book yet so I can't comment too much on the differences. I wish Walton got a song though he deserves one