#awkwardly forced to work together and collaborate

[un-pearable]

illadvisedly been reading LU fic again and boy has the fic scene only gotten weirder about the leader thing

#the core conceit is that these are all singularly competent and accomplished heroes #awkwardly forced to work together and collaborate #the whole idea that time is ~ obviously the leader ~ is such boring nonsense #like Yeah i can see why it would shake out that way in the comic but in these fics people straight up take it as far as time outright orderi #ordering people around and being honestly mean. and it’s written off as ‘well obviously they’d all listen to him’ #and like. okay for 1) with the exclusion of four all of these guys did their adventures independently. ft. fun sidekicks sure but they are #incredibly skilled individual fighters and experienced travelers #2) uh. nothing about time other than him arbitrarily being the oldest (bc jojo thought it would be more interesting - he never appears at #this age in canon) would make him an inherently better leader. he isn’t even the most experienced out of any of them #NOTORIOUSLY the hero of time is one of the youngest and wrapped up his heroism by the age of 12 #if anything either warriors or four would be the best to formally lead (literal military captain and Guy Who’s Whole Adventure Was About #Teamwork). and 3) i don’t even really care about any of 2 i just think they don’t NEED a single leader like this much less that they would #pick one. they’re all stubborn little shits. they’ve got there little cliches and generally all like each other but fundamentally links are #just. not the type to fall in line in a hierarchy. #the best take on the leader problem in fic is usually ‘yeah whoever’s world this is is in charge to get us somewhere safe 👍’ and like #group consensus. i Get the level of respect time gets as ‘leader’ in the comic but fic wayyyyy over extends it (as a result of the scope #being bonkers bigger) but sincerely i think it’s incredibly stupid and ooc to write them as falling in line behind a Single Guy regardless #of which guy it is. and let’s be real it’s only time bc ocarina of time is the single most influential zelda game #idk. jay’s LUposting while halfway through an assignment again 👍 #text✨ #admittedly yes you do need someone to make Final Decisions on things. that is not the way most fics write time though #(to his and EVERYONE ELSE’S detriment. stop making people boring. let them fight about what they’re going to do more. time would be waymore) #interesting if people actually address the whole ‘he’s the oldest so he’s in charge’ thing as it really is: everyone mistaking him for Super #Skilled And Talented when he’s spent the 30 years since he killed ganon farming in the middle of nowhere. and he’s just like haha yeah sure! #i definitely know how to coordinate 9 fighters with distinct fighting styles ! i can do that! <- guy who sends his wife on market trips bc #he grew up in a forest of like 5 total children and still thinks normal human adults are weird

[timmyrx2000]

TEAMWORK Mabel and Pacifica Style!

Mabel and Pacifica proudly display their collaboration on the team's official Baseball Uniform Design. Art by @turquoisespace35

It's part of an AU where, during their free time, Dipper, Mabel, Pacifica, and Wendy form a baseball team to try and get Dipper and Pacifica out of their shells. Wendy and Mabel try to boost Dipper's confidence by getting him to give playing baseball a shot and Pacifica, now part of the gang, comes along for the ride.

Among the entire group, Mabel and Pacifica have the most history, with their start being...rocky at best. While Pacifica and Mabel are now together on their tiny Baseball Team with Wendy and Dipper, Pacifica still feels quite anxious around Mabel knowing how she's treated Mabel in the past. What surprises her though is how easily Mabel seems to have gotten over those times and just seems to enjoy having her as a new friend. Pacifica's not used to Mabel's optimistic and upbeat attitude on life, especially growing up with rich, snobbish, stuck-up family and friends where you just didn't let things slide, but you made sure you won at all costs.

Mabel, on the other hand, loves having Pacifica as a new friend but still feels she's still quite distant and apprehensive getting close to her. Mabel's always makes an effort to have a bit of fun with Pacifica but almost always, Pacifica responds rather awkwardly. Mabel knows its not about Pacifica not wanting to be friends, but she knows she's gotta break her out of her shell cause she knows there's a Pacifica in there that just wants to break-free and enjoy life to her fullest.

When Wendy pitches the idea of finally formalize the Baseball team into a real ream, complete with recruiting 9 Players, she says they'll need an official Baseball Team Uniform and what better people to come up with it than the queens of style and creativity right in the team: Pacifica and Mabel!

Both girls are excited at the prospect of making the official team uniform but they do have some doubts on if it can or will work. Mabel and Pacifica have 2 very different ideas of style and creativity. Pacifica, in particular, is even more nervous that if this ends in disaster, she may lose the only real friend her age she would have had. Mabel, however, dives right into the opportunity seeing it as the chance to finally hangout and get to know Pacifica more. But can opposites work together?

As they pitch ideas back and forth both Pacifica and Mabel gain more insight into each other's personality. They begin opening up to each other slowly but surely. Pacifica begins to admire Mabel's spice for life, her creativity, and her boldness in imagination. She admires how Mabel is so unapologetic for who she is and no matter how bad things get, Mabel still manages to find the bright side of life. Mabel, on the other hand, begins to admire Pacifica's fierce and strong personality and how she's unafraid to speak her mind. She sees in Pacifica someone who is brave enough to stand up for herself against anyone who'd try to put her down, and she sees in her someone who is unwilling to go back to the life she had living as a slave to her dad's bell.

Their new found respect and admiration for each other proves to be a great asset in their collaboration. They're not competing, but they complement each other. They form the perfect duo for the job, with Mabel inspiring Pacifica to be more ambitious and daring in her choices while Pacifica helps keep Mabel grounded and realistic. It culminates with the pair proudly presenting their work to Wendy and Dipper who are thoroughly impressed and proud of their new Team Uniform. 

But it doesn't just stop there!  Mabel and Pacifica both prove to be a force to be reckoned with on the field, both partnering up during the games to help out in forming strategies and executing plays. When times get tough, they have each other to lean on, no matter how difficult and complicated things get. Pacifica couldn't ask for a better friend than Mabel, and neither could Mabel ask for a better friend than Pacifica.

#baseball #gravity falls #gf #mabel pines #baseball player #baseball uniform #mabel #pacifica northwest #pacifica #sporty #sports #baseball au #athlete #athletic #baseball players #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fanart

[yasmindifference]

Made up fic title: fight, flight, or freeze

Okay, for this I'm thinking a 3+1 fic....you know, like a 5+1 but lazier. Three times an encounter between Jason and Tim went badly:

-the first time, outright violence. Maybe Tim says something that provokes Jason, maybe Jason's doing his best to get along but Tim's holding a grudge over their past, maybe something in the middle...in fact, no, something in the middle. Tim's holding a grudge over the violence Jason's started in the past and Jason's on edge because he still doesn't like Tim, even if he's moved past wanting to kill him. One of them says something, the other takes it the wrong way, and boom, they're fighting. They both walk away bruised and bleeding.

-the second time, flight. It's been a while since the first encounter - long enough for them to both feel bad about how things went. Jason doesn't trust his temper, Tim doesn't trust his mouth, and so when they end up forced to work together (Arkham breakout maybe?), they get the job done and then immediately flee each other's presence

-the third time, they freeze. They haven't seen each other in person since they ran from each other (so embarrassing) BUT they've been in touch over comms, doing some long-distance collaborating over a case that's involved participants in Tim's Neon Knights program being targeted and harmed in Crime Alley. They've found they actually work together pretty well when there's the immediate option of hanging up the phone/disconnecting from comms when things get heated. They're both kind of, sort of, maybe starting to think of the other as a friend? So unexpectedly seeing each other in person makes them both just freeze because they're afraid of something going wrong and ruining their relationship again. They just kind of stand there awkwardly staring at each other until someone interrupts.

-and then plus one time, in which Tim spontaneously kisses Jason and Jason very enthusiastically kisses back.

#meme response #i-would-eat-his-heart #yasmin's adventures in writing #i would put more detail into the last one but i'm running late!!! gotta go!

[roonyxx]

Stolen Crown Chapter 8: Red Satin Panties

By @jay-and-dean and @roonyxx

Pairings : Dean x reader ? Kight!Dean x reader ?

Summary :  What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces ?

This, as much as it looks like it, is not ‘technically’ an AU, because your Dean, our Dean, exists too…

Serie Warnings : Smut (please be 18+), Fluff, Angst, Swearing. Mention of physical pain. Each Chapter will have detailed warnings.

Chapter warnings : angst, curse words, tension.

Chapter Word count : 3450

Note : This is a collaboration between both of us. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like for Firefly.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Text divider by the awesome @talesmaniac89​

Stolen Crown Masterlist

Want to read more:

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

Hiding under her heavy hood, she walks behind Elijah silently, following the light of his torch in the huge corridors of the silent castle.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, hitting the corset with force. Dean, her Dean is finally here. 

Walking fast, with the knight following them from afar, his face also hidden under a hood of fur, she tries not to think too much about what it all implies, emotionally. 

She had sex with the knight, grew close to him too ; and even if she always knew her hero would come to free her, she never really prepared for it. 

All is calm, the yard is almost empty except for guards, and the houses there are dark…

Elijah orders the guards to open the door, and they seem to guess it is her, considering how fast they obey. Which would mean it is probably not the first time that the Queen sneaks out in the middle of the night.

“Where is he ?” she asks, once the gates are behind them, and the knight concealed in the shadows of the trees.

“Not far, your Majesty, listen” the young soldier says, and something as threatening as thunder resonates in the woods. 

Dean’s voice. 

Like the growls of a furious wolf, his deep voice is making the forest shiver, and her heart flutter. 

Finally, the voices become understandable and the lights of their torches appear. 

“Bring me Y/n ! NOW !” Dean’s voice groans.

“Sir, please. Calm !”

“Sir Winchester” Elijah calls Dean, holding his hands carefully in a peace gesture. “Please my Lord don’t point your deadly weapon at the Queen.”

That is when she finally sees him : The one true Dean Winchester. 

Holding his silver and ivory gun with one firm hand to one of the soldier’s faces, his legs slightly parted like when he is ready to fight, he frowns. Seeing him, with his jeans and green jacket, with his short hair… She could cry.

Now that he is here, the knight doesn’t seem so resembling after all, no one can compare to Dean. To her best friend, her own grumpy and free Dean Winchester. 

Walking cautiously, she gets a little closer to him. He is almost panting with worry, the muscles of his jaw threatening to bite.

When she takes off her hood, whispers fill the nights. 

“Leave us” she orders. “All of you.”

“Y/n !” Dean smiles widely but when he starts walking to her, she stops his steps with a royal hand.

For everyone else, she is the Queen, and she can’t blow everything now.

“But… your Majesty” one of the guard worries. 

“It is an order. Leave us. Nothing can happen to me with Sir Winchester close to me.”

“My Queen” Elijah insists. “He is not right.”

They will not leave the Queen alone, they can’t take such a risk, so she turns to her best friend and tries to have a silent conversation with him like they sometimes do. 

“Would you hurt me Sir Winchester ?” she asks, hoping he would play along. 

“No. Never” he states, looking around a little awkwardly before he puts a knee on the floor, making her smile.

The second the whole crowd of guards leave, taking with them the poor man that tried to attack Dean, the hunter gets up.

“What is this crap Y/n ? They think you’re their queen ?” he grunts, coming closer to check her face. “Can you breathe in this shit ?”

“No I can’t” she whispers, smiling like she was in total bliss. 

“What ?” he grunts again.

“I missed your face” she says lowly, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him sweetly.

“I missed you too Sweetheart” he finally smiles, returning the hug. “Talking about my face, have you happened to come across a dude looking like me ?”

Before she can answer, he pushes her behind him with hunter speed and holds his gun to the shadows. 

“WHO’S THERE” he groans.

“Dean…” she tries but he is not listening to her when one of the shadows moves and the knight appears in front of him, holding his sword.

She frowns, looking at this disturbing mirror scene. Both Deans won’t lower their weapons, and despite his courage and strength, she knows that the knight has no chance to win if one of them triggers a fight. 

“Where is the Queen ?” her former lover asks in a growl.

“Dean…” she tries again but none reacts. “Please, guys !”

“I hid the queen to keep her safe” Dean states. “She’s fine.”

“Can I believe him, Lady Y/n ?” the knight hesitates, not taking his eyes off of his rival.

“He is my Dean” she comes from behind him, holding her hand in peace. “Dean, lower your gun, he is just worried.”

When Dean does, the knight puts his sword back in its sheath in a little bow. 

“I need to see her” he states. “Did you treat her right ?”

“Treat her-” Dean chokes in a dark chuckle. “The question is how she treated me ! That woman is fierce !”

“I happen to find your lady fiercer” the knight gives her a little smile. 

She looks between them with eyes widened, not knowing how to act anymore. 

Deep in her guts, a burn of jealousy stings her. The Queen stayed with Dean this whole time and maybe he grew fond of her, maybe she will never be good enough again now. 

But a hand on her back makes her bubble of hurt blow up and she lifts her chin to see her best friend looking at her. 

She missed touches like that, tender, simple ; and now she feels human again, like she could just snuggle into Dean’s chest in front of everyone and it would be nobody’s business.

“I’m bringing you back home soon, no more horrible clothes” he assures her. “Even if you look really great. You look like a freaking Disney Princess !”

“I don’t ! I look like a GOT bitch or something !” 

She hits his arm and lifts her heavy dress to show him the two other skirts under her dress. 

“Look ! More layer than a Winchester !”

From a little afar, the knight with his fur mane stares at them with a puzzled look, probably struggling to understand the codes of their relationship, and only obsessed by the well-being of the love of his life. 

“Okay, let’s go get the Princess” Dean chuckles. 

“She is not a Princess, she took the Crown years ago” the knight protests but Dean just rolls his eyes.

While they walk in the forest, following the hunter and the “magical” blinding light of his phone, she looks at the one she made love to barely two hours earlier. 

“Hey” she tells him softly. “I told you he would bring your Queen back.”

“You did” he nods, then turns his head to his double. “She never doubted you.”

“Yeah well she has no reason to” Dean answers casually. “There it is.”

In the middle of the trees, a small cave made of boulders.

“Sir Dean ?” her own voice resonates, and she frowns, equally nervous and impressed to meet that Queen she had to replace. 

“It’s me, with your knight” Dean states.

Coming out of the cave, the Queen stands, holding an angel blade, dressed with a full grown, probably the one she disappeared with.

“My Queen !” the knight gasps, his knee immediately falling to the floor.

“Sir Winchester, praise the Lord” she sighs, not even looking at the others.

She looks at herself, puzzled by the resemblance, a million questions floating in her dizzy mind.

The Queen invites him to get up and he does, still looking down, asking her if she is hurt. 

“Actually” the Queen starts to speak. “It seems that kindness is in the Winchesters blood.”

Saying that she smiles at Dean, waking up that painful sting of jealousy. They seem close, they must have lived a lot of things together those last few days. Hopefully not as much as she did with the knight…

“So” she asks, eager to get away from the Queen, and to have her Dean for herself again. “Where is the portal or whatever ?”

Dean gives her a sad smile and clears his throat.

“That is not that simple, Sweetheart” he says. “To get here I used a pretty complicated spell, and now I have to find a way to do it again. It requires specific ingredients, I bought the angel feather but it might take a few days… Queen Y/n said she would help.”

“I did” the Queen states. 

“So what do we do ?” she asks, looking at Dean.

“We hide in the Castle” the hunter states, nodding at the Queen like they had already planned everything.

“Lady Y/n knows everything about the Castle pretty well” the hunter states with a kind smile.

And, without him realizing it, this smile comes warmer, more comfortable than the smile the Queen is used to ; and she notices it. 

“This Crown is mine” her majesty states, holding her chin slightly up. “Must I prepare for my replica to have borrowed more of my personal belongings ?”

Dean chuckles but Y/n and the knight look at each other. 

Oh if the Queen knew…

“Your Majesty” the knight speaks. “Lady Y/n kept the Council and the Kingdom out of suspicion by pretending to be you for a few days.”

“Pretending to be me ?” the Queen gasps. “One cannot learn to rule in a week.”

“You’re welcome” Y/n mutters, rolling her eyes, earning a frown from her royal double, more worried than angry.

“Dean” the Queen states. “You shall be under Sir Winchester’s command, do not do anything he did not approve. And Y/n… Just do nothing.” 

Y/n bites her tongue at the Queen’s behavior, jeez she is a bitch. She thinks to herself.

Once everyone agrees on the plan, informing Dean of the entries, and how the place is organized, they quietly make their way back to the castle.

Before the Queen can hide them in the Castle, they have to reach her private rooms, and for that, the discretion must be perfect. 

“You will take my cloak” the knight tells Dean without really looking at him, obviously ill-at-ease with that supernatural ressemblance. “Put the hood on and do not say a word.”

When Dean wraps his body in the heavy fur long coat, his beautiful head now surrounded by that majestic grey mane, Y/n sighs. He is even more impressive than the knight in it… Or maybe it is love talking…

The Queen takes the knight arm, which apparently surprises him a little, and Y/n smiles. She missed him. She missed him desperately. 

Big hoods cover their faces when they walk past the giant door of the city.

Dean bends on her, the fur ticking her face when she turns to him.

“You have been living here for over a week?” he asks her.

“Yeah, the only difference with the bunker are more stinky men and windows” she chuckles.

She is so happy to see her Dean, it feels almost like a dream now. She didn’t dare admit it to herself but she was losing hope of ever seeing him again.

They follow the knight and the Queen’s rapid footsteps into her workroom.

“Okay, what do we do now?” Dean asks his Knight self.

“We can not be seen at the same time. We must hide. I suggest you and Lady Y/n stay inside this room” the knight states.

“Woah Woah prince charming. I need those ingredients. I ain’t gonna find them in this room. You can’t keep me cooped up in here” Dean tells his double angrily.

The knight frowns and looks at his other self.

“I do not understand you. Can you try not to sound like a barbarian ?” The knight steps closer to Dean. 

The hunter squares his chest and doesn’t back down.

“Oh I can show you a barbarian if you want too, Princess ?” Dean challenges the knight.

“Okay guys, cut it out.” Y/n presses herself between the two very handsome men and pushes them apart with a hand on their very strong and broad chests.

God she shouldn’t think of all those things when they are about to fight…

“Cut it out, both of you” she says, using her royal voice.

“We have no time for your childish boy manners. We need to maintain this situation like professionals” the Queen interferes.

The knight lowers his chin, and steps back, bowing at the Queen’s words, obviously embarrassed by his behavior and his love’s words. 

Y/n smiles slightly, knowing how jealous he must be, and she puts a hand on her friend that is not so obedient. 

“Dean…”

 But at her gesture, the hunter sighs, and steps back with a huff.

“It is the middle of the night. If the Queen is not in her chambers by morning the whole kingdom will go on lockdown” the knight states.

“He is correct. It is protocol” the Queen agrees with her royal guard.

“Lady Y/n, you remember the royal bedroom.There is a door to the side that leads to a secret guest room. You shall remain there” the knight tells her.

“She has slept in my bed ?” The Queen nearly yells at her knight.

“Of course !” Y/n grunts before Sir Winchester can speak. “Everyone thought I was you ! Do you want the people to think the Queen sleeps on the floor !” she’s already annoyed with her stuck up ass.

“No” she huffs. “Fine, let’s go to my room. But quietly. If anyone sees us both enteri-”

“Yeah yeah, we get hanged. I know the drill by now” she sighs with annoyance.

“What about me?” Dean asks Y/n. “I wanna stay with you.”

“You shall remain with me in my room” the knight answers in her place. “Your face… cannot be seen doing anything.”

“Oh yay…fucking great” he mutters under his breath.

Y/n comes closer to her Dean.

“He is right, Dean. I’ll explain, but please behave, his life is at stake here. And please don’t kill each other ? I want to go home with you in one piece. Okay ?” she gives him a pleading look.

“Okay, but if he starts it, I’m not holding back” he says, shaking his head the same way he does when he argues with Sam.

“Just.. don’t get hanged” she tells him right before she walks away with the Queen, mortified to let him go again.

Once she and her royal self enter the bedroom she can see her looking around the room.

The sheets are messy, one of the pillows fell on the floor during her time with the knight and flashes of him pushing it in a groan makes her stomach shake. 

It is like the entire room was screaming everything they did in detail, but the Queen just frowns. 

“Of course you are messy” she grunts.

“What are you looking for?” Y/n asks nervously.

“I am just making sure everything is here” the Queen states.

Y/n rolls her eyes as she tugs at the corset. 

“I didn’t steal anything ! I just broke one of those” she points at the corset hurting her ribs. “Torture devices.”

“I forgive you for that” the queen lets out a very timid chuckle. 

Y/n turns around with wide eyes.

“Did you just laugh ?” She asks.

“I know you must think of me as some perfectly educated lady” her royal double says as she sits down on her royal bed in a tired sigh.

Y/n can’t help but think of the knight and what they did in this same bed mere hours ago… the guilt is gnawing on her soul now that she can see her rival’s humanity.

“You are a fierce Queen. I mean I tried to live your life for a week and I’m exhausted, I don’t understand how you do this every day” Y/n sits on the bed next to the Queen.

“It must be different when you are raised into it, I supposed. It is the purpose of my life” the queen shrugs.

“Your life is not that easy either. Your world is… cruel and lonely. All the monsters and death. And do not get me started on the people that run the world.”

“Oh yeah, peachy people. How is everything in my world ? You met Sam ? I mean my Sam” she asks, her heart beating faster when she thinks of her home.

“I did. He is much like my Sam. A real gentleman.” 

“Yeah he is” she smiles at the memory of her tall friend. 

“And… I wore some of your robes. I could not go around in the same underwear for more than a week” Y/n can see a blush forming on the majesty’s cheeks. “But Dean managed to wash my clothes, not without some manifestation of his temper.”

“You tried my underwear ?”

“Yes. The red ones are very nice” the Queen mutters softly.

“My red ones !” Y/n starts laughing. “That’s my most sexy set ! It’s a lot different from these things” she states as she pulls on the multiple fabrics under her gown.

“It is… It felt very… freeing.” 

“I bet it did” Y/n chuckles.

“I…” the Queen hesitates, a darker pink creeping on her cheek. “I took the liberty to keep them. No one can see I am not wearing regular undergarments.”

“Wait” she chuckles. “You are wearing my red satin panties right now ?”

“I am. I could give you gold for it if you let me keep them.”

“No” she laughs slightly. “Keep them, it’s a present. Women have to help each other and those medieval craps are shit.”  

“And your pants. Very convenient. Would be much easier on a horse.”

“Right ! You should just wear pants and be a trendsetter. You’re the Queen after all. What can they say ?” Y/n chuckles.

“You know that is not how this world works” the Queen sighs sadly.

“Yeah…”

Y/n thinks of the Council, of how such a great Queen has to prove her worth every single day because she is not a King, of the power of religion and tradition…

“So how is my Kingdom and my People ?” the Queen asks.

“It’s doing okay, I guess ?” she nods, answering very seriously, nervous but slightly proud. “I mean nothing is on fire or went bankrupt. The Council seems to have calmed down now. But we both know that won’t be for long. I tried to get them off De- Sir Winchester’s back. But they really hate him…” Y/n looks down at her hands on her lap.

The Queen stays quiet and when Y/n looks up she meets her eyes.

“You know” she states.

“I know what ?” Y/n asks her.

“About the incident with Sir Winchester.”

“Oh… Y-yeah I do…”

The Queen gets up and starts pacing.

“You must know I did not-”

Y/n interrupts the queen.

“You don’t owe me an explanation Y/n. What happened was truly horrible, but it happened, and… At first I can’t say I didn’t blame you but… You did the best you could, and I know you went through Hell yourself.”

“He told you about it ? He never talks about it…” the queen states, searching her face.

“He didn’t… I found out myself.” 

“He must have been very angry” the queen states, staring at her. 

Y/n is getting nervous, she will eventually find out  what happened… She knows the knight won’t lie to his Queen. So maybe it is better if she tells her now, at least they could talk about it… So that most of her anger is directed at her and not at the man that loves her more than life.

“Yes, he was” Y/n sighs, looking down.

“But he forgave you. He does not do that easily.”

“I know.” 

“Something happened between you two” the queen states from the middle of the room.

“W-what ? Why do you say that.”

“I know my knight, but more importantly I know myself. And that look. That is guilt. What happened ?” her yet calm royal voice booms around the room.

“I-… I slept with your Knight but… I… It didn’t mean anything and…”

“He slept here ?” the Queen frowns and blinks, like she couldn’t register why her double would trade bed with the knight or…

She knows something happens, and yet her mind can’t comprehend the gravity of their treason.

“I laid with him” Y/n translates, and the Queen’s eyes lock on hers.

#stolen crown #stolen crown chapter 8 #knight!dean x queen!reader #knight!dean #queen!reader #collab #jay and dean #roonyxx #dean winchester #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean angst #angst #dean smut

[blucifer08]

For them if you want a prompt:

not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

Thank you for the prompt!!!

"Welcome back." The Speaker stands from his seat and regards the Traveler and the Emissary with an emotionless expression. The very act of standing at all is enough to let them know that he's acknowledged them, and the very slightest nod of his head is his approval of their return.

"Thank you." Azem smiles. "T'was a mere coincidence that we had ended up working together on restoring the agriculture of some of the northern cities, but our forces combined were great to get things back in motion."

"Yes," The Emissary looks at Lahabrea, a small smile forming under the beak of his red mask. "I was quite worried when I heard that the crop yields of the north were becoming fewer and fewer, but Azem and I were able to deduce the causes. The soil had become lacking in aether thanks to an overpopulation of a small tunneling rat-like creature. After reaching out to the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, we reviewed the concepts submitted for the creatures a few centuries ago and Azem was able to understand what had caused them to multiply."

"Thus," Azem continues to explain, "We were able to right the imbalance in the ecosystem by slaying a few and promoting breeding among some of its predators."

"Also," the Emissary cuts in. "There was a road built in one of the major cities there that had separated two groups of creatures of the same breed, thus causing them to struggle to breed. We moved those populations around, and they were able to keep the population of the beasts consuming the soil's aether in check."

The two stand proudly with smiling faces, having brought the report of their successful operation to an end. It had truly been a coincidence that they had arrived at the same area together, but full glad had they both been to get to collaborate. In all senses, the two felt they completed each other. Where Azem lacks, Elidibus makes up for it. In the few places Elidibus lacks, Azem makes up for those.

"Uhm.." Emet-Selch watches the two of them from behind his red mask, and clears his throat. It suddenly strikes Azem and Elidibus that the convocation members are all acting rather awkwardly. Most of them are letting their eyes wander away from the two, as though they're putting on some kind of horrid show. Azem quickly checks to make sure that she's wearing her mask, something she's forgotten in the past. But as she had thought, her mask is placed on her face just as usual.

"Your.. hands." Nabriales whispers in a hushed voice.

Both Elidibus and Azem turn their heads to look down at their hands and find that they are clasped together, fingers interlaced sweetly. Neither of them had noticed–surely they had entered this way and merely neglected to remove their fingers.

Both of them laugh nervously, letting go of their hands and stepping away from each other and mumbling apologies.

"Yes… well." Lahabrea clears his throat as well. "I am glad you two are getting along, I suppose."

#azemelidibus #fic #prompt #ask #endwalker spoilers #? #i dont know #ill just tag to be safe #ffxiv spoilers

[harkovastwebcomic]

Chapter 11 part 7

Yet-Lin-No ran into the arms of Goy and embraced him, while List cringed in fear by the altar at the front of the temple. Looking around, Lisk saw that The Speaker had gone. Perhaps the strange priest had been hit by a javelin and fallen out of sight, as it seemed there was no where he could have fled to. Lisk looked to one of the large windows and considered attempting to break through it, but he wasn’t very confident in the ability of his wings to support his considerable bulk. As he hesitated, he looked around and saw Goy approaching him, holding an axe. “Wait, Goy, let us be reasonable!” List said frantically “I’m a member of the City’s Senate! I was elected! I represent the people!” Goy continued to advance, his expression hardening. “The Zadakine forced me to do it! I had no choice!” Lisk’s words became even more panicked. “I promise you I wouldn’t have…” Lisk’s words were cut short by the axe impacting with his skull. He slumped to the ground, awkwardly pulling down Goy’s arm. Goy put his foot against the side of Lisk’s head to get the leverage to rip his weapon free. For the first time in a long while, Goy felt pleased. Though his work was not yet done. He turned to look at the Cabal leaders. Those who had not been slain in the initial attack were now cowering together in fear. Amongst the leaders were guards who had thrown down their weapons in surrender. The prisoners were surrounded by Nymus warriors, awaiting Goy’s instructions. Goy raised his axe and pointed it towards these captives. “Destroy them.” “Stay your blades!” said Sir Muir suddenly, stepping in front of the Nymus warriors’ spears. “The rules of chivalry forbid this.” “Your assistance has been much appreciated, Darsai” said Goy, sternly “But this is our city, not yours.”

“Wait, Goy!” said Sul-Gee-Von, entering the temple with more soldiers. “We shouldn’t act in haste!” Goy looked irritated, but lowered his axe. “Yes, of course. You are correct, Priestess. We must deal with them in a civilised manner, we are not barbarians. That is what this is all about.” “You aren’t’ going to spare them, are you?” said Yet-Lin-No, urgently “These villains don’t deserve our sympathy!” “No, no, absolutely not” said Goy, reassuringly “They will be held to account. I’m going to make sure all the Zadakine in the city are dealt with in an organised and civilised manner. It has already begun.” “What do you mean?” said Sul-Gee-Von, uncertainly to Goy. “I have plenty of supporters through out the city,” said Goy “and they are already moving. All our enemies and their collaborators are being rounded up. Then they will be dealt with in an appropriate…civilised manner.” Jedaulo was not with the captives. She had climbed out through a broken window onto the roof of the Villa and was now hiding behind a chimney stack. She looked out over the city, where she could see numerous fires burning, especially around the Zadakine districts of the city. Yalangov seemed to be in uproar. However, what Jedaulo was most shocked to see, standing confidently on the roof was The Speaker. He was also watching the city with great interest, but rather than horror he seemed quite amused. The Speaker was always menacing, with his grim, sneering countenance. But seeing him happy was somehow even more disturbing. It was the cruel, mocking joy of seeing others suffer and delighting in it. “Is it not glorious?” The Speaker did not turn to face Jedaulo as he spoke “To see His plan made manifest?” “You have to do something!” pleaded Jedaulo. “Everyone is being rounded up by the Nymus.” “Ah know, child” said The Speaker, turning slowly to stare at her with wild eyes. “And Ah have done something. Ah have done everything that was asked of me by The Almighty.” “But our plan has failed! Everything is falling apart!”

“Our plan?” scoffed The Speaker “What is ‘our’ plan? There was Y’ALL’S plan, in which Ah took a momentary interest as a great part of MY plan. And now y’all can see that MY plan is reaching its glorious conclusion!” “How can this be your plan? You wanted to destroy the Cabal? The Zadakine?” “Y’all have a small view of the world, with very near horizons. Y’all can’t see the greater designs. The Nymus are rounding up the Zadakine in the city, with the intent to kill them.” “Oh no!” cringed Jedaulo ”Oh yes!” said The Speaker, gleefully. “And what will happen when the Zadakine learn of this outrage? They will demand blood! An army will be sent here!” “You wanted the Cabal to fail?” “Child, a great plan is one that succeeds regardless of the actions of the enemy. If y’all had won, the city would be taken over by y’all’s idiotic little gang, enraging the Nymus in other cities, provoking them to send THEIR armies. But Ah had realised some time ago all y’all’s efforts were doomed. And Ah acted accordingly. Word was sent to the Zadakine Alliance by my agents weeks ago. A Zadakine army is already on the way to investigate this outrage. When they arrive it will be war. The Zadakine and Nymus, two great mercantile powers of Vellastrom turned against eachother. Any future alliance will be rendered impossible.” “But we aren’t your enemies!” pleaded Jedaulo, tearfully. “We were allies!” “The West does not have allies.” The Speaker became stern once more, “only enemies and slaves. Here ends the lesson.”

#harkovast The Speaker bird weasel evil plan

[freddie-weaselbee]

Grade A Business//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief semi-nudity, slight language, two suggestive comments, y/n drools on fred but like in a cute way

Summary: As one businessman makes a trip across the ocean to talk to new investors, he meets his new partner, someone a lot more familiar than he was expecting. 

Prompts: Only One Bed with dialogue prompts “if we get caught, I’m blaming you” and “I don't want to be alone”

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Day 2 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

  Fred had never gotten used to traveling on Muggle airplanes. He never had a need to before, not with everything being a train ride, floo network, or apparition away. But as he and George progressed into adulthood, and the businessman life no less, they found themselves constantly on the move and needing a fast and easy way to travel without drawing suspicion. Except for the one time that Fred’s magical briefcase set off every airport security system imaginable, but he’d learned from that mistake. 

He was relieved to be exiting the JFK airport in New York City, clutching his luggage and thanking Merlin that his feet could now touch solid ground. Being in one of those huge steel contraptions was nothing like flying in a broom. He had no control over anything and it drove him absolutely insane. Luckily, he was safe now, and one step closer to being done with this awful business trip. 

At the beginning of their business endeavors, Fred and George would travel together, trying to pick up business at other locations for Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes. But as the shop grew and the locations became more and more foreign (so far having shops in Paris, Cairo, and Madrid) the brothers realized that the operations would have to be solo missions to allow for the other to run the shop for longer periods of time. Usually Fred didn’t mind taking the trips by himself. In fact, he rather enjoyed the alone time and flexibility in schedule. But this meeting was supposed to be a big one, and he was feeling quite nervous about having to tackle it himself. 

Big investors located in the states were meeting with him to discuss opening a joint operation in New York City, combining his shop with another renowned wizard business that they deemed would be most profitable. Fred groaned internally just thinking about it. He didn’t want to have to share this new shop with anyone, no matter what the new investors thought. What if the other co-owner was a horrible person? Or worse, what if they had no sense of humor? They’d ruin the Weasley reputation and make it some boring book store. Or puzzle shop? Honestly Fred didn’t know much about the other business, just that he already didn’t like it. 

Hailing a cab, a trick his sister-in-law Hermione had shown him years ago, Fred lugged all of his prototypes--skillfully hidden from Muggle eyes and detection systems by layers of spells--into the trunk before hopping in, giving the address of the hotel the investors had booked for him. He was about to shut the door when a panting scream startled him enough to make him stop. 

“Wait! Hold the cab!”

Doing as he was told, Fred kept the door open and allowed the stranger to climb in, suitcase and all. 

“Thanks,” you said, Fred noting your distinct British accent and strikingly familiar features. “I really need to get to my hotel, I appreciate it--”

“Y/N?”

Shocked, you finally looked at your ride partner’s face for the first time. Soft brown eyes. Freckled face. Bright ginger hair. 

“Fred?! Fred Weasley?” You knew for a fact you weren’t mistaken, this was definitely the Fred you remembered. Or maybe it could have been George? It had been so long since you had seen either of them. Since Hogwarts, in fact. 

Luckily, Fred nodded, confirming your belief that this was the older Weasley twin and saving yourself from heaps of embarrassment. “Y/N L/N, what are you doing here?”

Fred and you both wore matching grins, stretching from ear to ear. What an insane coincidence. What were the chances that you two would be in the same cab, in the same city, in the same foreign country?

“I’m actually here for business,” you said. “After Hogwarts I opened my own shop--”

“Excuse me,” the cab driver interrupted, wasting no time with politeness nor formalities. “But I have cars lined up behind me and I don’t know where you wanna go little lady. So let’s get on with it, if you will.”

“Oh, yeah of course. It’s, umm, oh shit which hotel was it? It’s on 53rd and 10th, I know that…” You trailed off, trying to remember what your hotel was called. You dug around in your purse, hoping to find a piece of paper with the name on it. “I think it was called--”

“Lotus Hotel.”

It was Fred who had interrupted you, once again, and once again you were just as bewildered as before.

“That’s right,” you said after a few seconds of confused silence. “Yes, yes the Lotus Hotel please,” you told the driver with confidence. Turning back to Fred you tried in earnest to understand what was happening. 

“So same location?” the driver asked, to which Fred confirmed before you were speeding off down the crowded streets of the city. 

“Oh, I get it,” you said in understanding. “Same hotel as me?”

“That is correct, love. What are the odds?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a half suggestive half just plain goofy manner, awkwardly shuffling so that his long legs had room amongst your many bags. 

“That is quite a coincidence,” you agreed. “Funny thing is, I didn’t even choose the location. I have a business meeting in the morning with possible investors and they set everything up for the stay.”

Fred’s mouth practically dropped open at what you had said. “You’re kidding. These investors don’t happen to be Robbie Goldstein and Rachel McMillan, do they?”

“Ok, you need to stop doing that,” you said, officially freaked. “That’s the third time you’ve predicted something and it’s starting to creep me out. You never were very good at legilimency.”

He hushed you quickly, hoping the cab driver hadn’t caught onto the magical term you just used. Thankfully, he was too focused on the roads to notice. 

“Ok, Y/N, one last question.”

“And then you’ll explain how you know all this?”

Fred ignored your question and continued with his own. “You said you opened a business. Are you perhaps meeting with another business owner to discuss a collaboration on a new store opening in the city?”

“Yes!” you said, eager to know how Fred could have known that. Was this another one of his pranks? Did he have hidden cameras in the cab somewhere? “How do you know all this?”

He only laughed, a joyous and very relieved grin overtaking his face. Sticking out his right hand, he grabbed yours and shook it eagerly. “Well, Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to be reacquainted. I’m Frederick Weasley, your new potential partner.”

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

“You know, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Oh thank Godric, I was worried you’d think I was grown up and mature now.”

You laughed heartily as you dragged your bags out of the cab, thanking the driver before he grunted annoyedly and drove off. Your drive from the airport had gone faster than expected, mostly due to the fact that you and Fred had so much to catch up on. 

After he and George had left Hogwarts in their grand exit, they’d created the shop they’d always dreamed of, parking it right in the middle of Diagon Alley. You, on the other hand, went about creating your success in a much more conventional way. After finishing your last year of school, you started working full time at Zonko’s at Hogsmeade, trying to save up enough money to start your own business. 

Many long hours and tiring days later, you opened up your little place, a toy store and puzzle shop. It was a similar setup to what the Weasleys did, but as you described it, “my toys don’t blow up in the user's face.”

You were now very excited for tomorrow’s meeting, the one you had been dreading beforehand. Your business was much smaller than Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and this would be your first international location. You were afraid that the owner you would be forced to work with would be some stuck up rich big whig who wouldn’t allow you to keep any of your small business charm in the new location. But learning that you would be working with Fred, well that was a relief for many reasons. 

Fred rang the hotel desk bell, chatting happily about ideas for the shared shop and new products that fit with what both of you wanted to do. 

“Hello there,” said the hotel receptionist, coming around the corner. “What can I do for you today?”

“Two night stay for Frederick Weasley,” said Fred. “Should’ve been booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

The young man typed quickly into his computer before offering Fred a hotel key card. “Here you are Mr. Weasley, room 504. We serve complimentary breakfast from 6 to 9 every morning down in our west hall. If you need anything don’t be afraid to call down and we’ll assist you in any way we can.”

Fred nodded at the man. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He turned to leave before you grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back. 

“Wait for me,” you said. “I’m not finished talking to you yet.”

Fred smiled and waited behind you as you took your turn at the desk. 

“Y/N L/N, also booked by Robbie Goldstein.” 

He clicked away again but paused for a few seconds, seemingly confused. “You said Y/N L/N?”

Starting to get nervous, you nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Is the reservation not there?” You didn’t want to think about having to find somewhere else to stay, especially because it was getting so late. 

“Oh no,” the man replied. “It’s here all right.” Ignoring the confused looks you and Fred were giving each other, the receptionist handed you a hotel key card and gestured to the elevator. “Thank you for choosing to stay with us. You’ll be staying for two nights in room 504. Don’t forget to enjoy our complimentary breakfast from 6--”

“I’m sorry,” Fred interrupted. “But that’s my room. You did say 504, right?”

“Yes sir,” he replied, not bothering to try to understand the predicament. “Mr. Goldstein booked one room for the both of you.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Fred, silently asking him to help you figure this out. But instead, Fred just broke out laughing, having to brace himself on the front desk. 

“I guess that’s what you expect when you let two investors who specialize in pranking shops make the room accommodations.”

“This isn’t funny Fred,” you said, although you had to give Robbie and Rachel credit for this joke. Turning to the receptionist, you sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “There’s at least two separate beds, right?”

He glanced down at his computer screen before looking back up at you with a guilty smile. “Well, about that…”

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

“Alright, I’ll take the couch, I’m sure it’s a pullout, it has to be.”

Fred stood in the doorway watching you mumble mostly to yourself. As tired as he was and as much as he wanted to just lie down and sleep, somehow watching you freak out about the sleeping arrangements was a much better use of his time. 

He watched as you threw the pillows and cushions off of the couch and felt around for a lever, something, anything that would allow you a place to rest. Your face lit up as you felt a small impression and yanked with all your might, only causing you to thump backwards onto your butt on the hotel room floor. 

Kicking off his shoes, Fred jumped onto the bed, sighing as he let his body relax. “Come on in darling, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

He opened one eye slightly, just enough to see your reaction. You were trying again to make the couch open, although you both knew that it wasn’t a pullout. Nevertheless, you kept pulling at every spot you thought could make a difference. 

It reminded Fred of the good old days, back at Hogwarts when you two were so close. You were always so stubborn, and he didn’t realize just how much he had missed having you in his life. He always wondered what happened to you after he and George left, but with the shop opening up and the war around the corner, he never had the thought to write you or track you down. He hoped this time after you two parted ways you would still remain in touch. 

You groaned loudly, slapping the couch with one of the pillows you had thrown earlier. Nothing was going as planned and you couldn’t be more annoyed. 

“Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll just sleep on the couch, no need for a pullout.” You stomped over to the bed and angrily pulled the blanket from off of him. 

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to grab it back but you were too quick. “That’s not fair, it’s cold!”

“If you get the bed,” you said, wrapping yourself up, “then I get to stay warm. Now go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He couldn’t help but giggle at the small bundle of you wrapped up in the hotel quilt, looking like an angry little burrito. Standing, he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the corner, followed next by his undershirt before he unbuckled his belt. He turned to face you slowly, feeling your eyes on him as they peeked out of your wrapping. 

You quickly turned your gaze and glared at the floor. “What are you doing?” you said, hoping Fred didn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. He did. 

He continued to undress, leaving him only in a pair of red boxers that left little to the imagination. “Going to bed, as you said,” he replied nonchalantly. He grabbed a toothbrush from his suitcase and made his way to the bathroom, making sure to walk extra slowly and give you a longer show. 

“This is so unprofessional!” you yelled after him. 

“We’re not business partners until tomorrow, love,” Fred said with a mouthful of toothpaste. “As far as I see it we can do anything we want tonight.”

Rolling your eyes, you shed the large blanket and grabbed an oversized t-shirt from your bag, hoping you’d be able to change before Fred finished in the bathroom. As he emerged, he saw the tail end of you throwing the shirt on, flashing your thighs and part of your panties for half a second. He averted his eyes out of respect, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running away with what he just saw. 

You shuffled past him, taking your turn in the bathroom. How in the world had this happened? How had a nice catch-up with a friend turned into an awkward back and forth the night before the most important business meeting of your life?

All you wanted to do was fall asleep, go through with whatever tomorrow brought you, and pretend like this never happened. But as you came out of the bathroom, you saw that Fred had taken the blanket back, leaving you with nothing except your t-shirt and an uncomfortable couch. 

“Fred, let me have it,” you said, trying to yank it from his grip. 

“No,” he mumbled, voice muffled by one of the many pillows he was cuddled with. 

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, give me the blanket now or so help me…”

Instead of responding, he just reached out and patted you on the top of your head before rolling over and pretending to snore. He was infuriating. 

You sulked back to the couch, accepting your defeat. You pulled out all of the clothes in your bag, hoping they could form as some sort of makeshift blanket. But after a few minutes of shivering and curling into the smallest ball possible, you realized that you’d never manage to sleep like this. Fred was staring at you, partially amused and partially concerned. You looked away. 

“You can always share with me, you know,” he said, patting the bed next to him. 

You scoffed and turned away. “Like I said, Fred, we’re soon-to-be business partners. Imagine how that would look! I’m fine right here, thank you.”

After a few seconds of silence you snuck another look at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, and was instead looking more concerned than before. “You’re going to freeze to death over there.”

“Well maybe that’s because someone stole my blanket.”

“The blanket comes with the bed, and the bed comes with me. Take it or leave it.”

It took everything in you not to scream. You wanted that warm, soft, comfortable bed more than anything at the moment. You needed it. Oh but it would send such a bad message if anyone ever found out…

“If we get caught I’m blaming you,” you relented, trudging over to the bed and crawling underneath the covers, ripping the blanket from a very amused Fred. 

“Who’s gonna catch us, Robbie and Rachel? They’re the ones that set this up! Trust me, nothing’s going to happen.” 

“It better not,” you said. “And make sure you stay on your side of the bed, I mean it! No touching.”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Fred said, rolling slightly closer to you. “You act as if we’ve never done this before. We’ve slept with each other dozens of times.”

Your face went red at his words, wishing he would have phrased it a different way. 

“You know what I mean,” he said quickly, hearing how his words came across. “But the amount of times we’ve cuddled up in the Gryffindor common room or up stargazing in the astronomy tower. It’s just me, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“We were also 17 and a lot closer back then,” you retorted, remembering the fond memories you had from your high school days. 

Fred huffed and returned to his side. “I’m not saying we weren’t. I just wish you weren’t acting so different now. It’s like we’re barely friends anymore…” His voice drifted off, wishing that he could go back and change the past. It had been 8 years since he last saw you. 8 whole years. Maybe things would’ve been different if he had tried to stay in touch. You’d never even visited his shop in those 8 years, never seen everything he was so proud of. He was stupid to think that one reunion was going to bring back a friendship that was practically already dead. He was even more stupid to think that maybe, just maybe, fate was giving him one last chance to shoot his shot, close to a decade later. What a right idiot he was. 

On the other side of the bed, less than a meter away, similar thoughts raced through your mind. 8 years. Why hadn’t you, in 8 years, made one trip to visit their shop. Sure, there was a war going on and you were busy starting your own shop, but things had been fairly calm the last few years. Why had you never reached out? Almost subconsciously, you reached out physically for Fred. Your hand brushed up against his back before you tensed and drew back. You both stilled for a few moments, before Fred rolled over, facing you. 

The two of you just stared at each other, both playing mental images of what your lives could have looked like the last 8 years if just one of you had done something. 

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” Fred asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head. He moved closer. 

“Are you?” you asked. He shook his head. You moved closer. 

Your faces were now about a foot apart. You moved your hand to rest it between your face and the pillow. Fred copied your actions. You laughed softly, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall into your face. 

Fred reached his hand out to move it before hesitating. “Can I?” His voice was so soft, so full of care. His hand hesitated in the air for a second before you nodded. He brushed the strands behind your ear, fingertips so gentle that you got chills up and down your spine. He let his hand linger before it moved to cup your face. “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “I’ve missed you too, Freddie.”

His hand left your face and moved down to your waist, eyes not leaving yours in case you ever grew uncomfortable. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him just like you used to do all those years ago. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and hummed contently, before both of you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

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

“Freddie, Y/N! How are ya!”

Robbie Goldstein, a plump man with fading hair ran up to greet you and Fred in the lobby of his and his partner’s office, shaking both of your hands fervently. 

“Hey Robbie,” said Fred, slapping the man on the back. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Same with me,” you said, glad you could finally meet the man with whom you’d been discussing business through letters in person. 

Robbie looked between the two of you, sly grin on his face. “Ah, so I see you’ve already met them. Wouldn’t happen to be because of a little mishap at the hotel last night, would it?”

You groaned internally, hating that someone else knew about the previous night, but Fred only laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“A great prank, I must admit, but Y/N and I actually go way back. I’ve known her since I was 11 years old, so nice try. I couldn’t imagine how that would’ve gone if we were complete strangers.”

Robbie’s face fell a little before he shrugged and nodded his head in defeat. “Well, what are the odds of that?”

“Astronomical,” you said, giving Fred a subtle tap with your foot. 

Robbie gestured for the two of you to follow him into the conference room where discussions about the new business would commence. “Well, I’m glad that you two seem to get along then, this is going to make things a lot easier. Oh, and don’t worry about arrangements tonight, I’ve decided not to let my joke stretch on and I booked another room for one of you for your last night in town.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Fred, and stepped into the conference room. “Thanks Robbie, that makes things a lot easier.”

“Yeah,” said Fred hesitantly, “thanks for that.”

He shut the door behind you and straightened up. There was no place for personal feelings in this business negotiation. He needed to do what was best for his company and yours, no distractions. No thoughts of crushed hope that suddenly plagued his mind. 

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

Fred hated the bed he was sleeping on. Granted, it was the same bed as the night before, but this time it felt different. It felt like it was mocking him. You had been the one to offer to change rooms and it seemed like you couldn’t wait to get out of there and to your own bedroom, free of any Weasleys. It made Fred sick to think about. 

He had just gotten used to the idea of something happening between the two of you. Last night, it all seemed perfect. You had cuddled the same way you had before, talked like nothing had changed. Hell, he even woke up with you lying sprawled out on top of him, a little trickle of drool falling onto his chest. He didn’t mind. 

But now, everything that happened the night before seemed like a dream. 

Fred knew he’d at least get to see you sporadically from now on. Your business negotiations with Robbie and Rachel went great, and the two of you, three counting George, were going to be combining forces and opening a joke and toy shop in the city sometime within the next year. It went exactly how Fred had wanted it to go, and yet so horribly wrong at the same time. 

He didn’t want to only interact with you as a business partner and casual friend. He wanted so much more than you were willing to give him, and having to see you and write you and work with you was going to be torture for him. He buried his face in the pillows, gripping the large blanket to his chest, wishing it was you instead. Stupid Robbie and his stupid pranks and stupid business and--

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Fred lifted his head to check the clock. It was 2 in the morning. Who in the world would be knocking this late at night? Fred slowly got out of bed, too tired to bother putting anything more decent on. He looked through the peephole of the door but his eyes were too blurry to make anything out. Groaning, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. 

Standing in front of him, clothed in the oversized t-shirt from last night and a pair of booty shorts, was you, looking nervous and embarrassed. Fred hadn’t noticed the previous day, but the shirt you had been wearing was one of his old Quidditch practice jerseys, all beat up and way too huge on you. He remembered the day he gave that to you, or rather when you stole it from him because you complained about it being too cold. Fred had to hold back a laugh at the irony. 

“I, umm,” you started, not knowing what to say to him. How were you supposed to explain that you missed him so much that spending one night away from him was too much for you to bear? How last night had been the best sleep you had in years because of how content and at peace he made you feel. How could you convey all of your feelings to him at this very moment?

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Fred wasted no time in picking you up, laughing as you screamed and kicked your legs around. “Fred Weasley, you put me down!”

He did as he was told and threw you onto the bed before jumping, arms and legs spread out, and landing straight on top of you. “I’m so glad you're here,” he said, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He pushed himself up, scanning your face to make sure what he did was ok, but you grabbed his face in your cheeks and pulled him down into a long kiss. Fred smiled through the kiss, almost laughing at how everything was working out. Maybe fate did have something to do with it after all. 

Fred pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “So,” he said, mischief glinting in his eyes, “how about we put this bed to good use?”

Tag List: @famdomhideout​ @amourtentiaa​

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fredweasleyfluff #only one bed

[bestiesenpai]

firsts with Choso

Imma do this as a non-curse au and also force everyone to see my vision of Instagram star Choso lol, gender neutral lads~

Content warning: there is drinking

First meeting

Choso was a celebrity. Did he ever call himself one? No. But in the eyes of the internet, he was properly famous, amassing an easy two million followers and counting through his short time on Instagram

Posting mainly fashion content, it was no surprise that he had hundreds upon hundreds of photographers asking him to model for them and brands begging to collaborate

His manager took care of most of those things, fielding the serious requests with the not so serious

Which is how he found himself shooting for a pretty well known magazine

There were people shouting and running around even though it was barely pushing six am. Choso hadn’t slept the whole night, his insomnia keeping him awake until the photoshoot. Downing a piping hot black coffee first thing in the morning, when he arrived at the shoot there were already assistants pouring him more cups.

“Choso, hair and makeup is ready for you.” His manager said, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him silently to the room. The lights were way too bright here, stinging Choso’s eyes and almost giving him a headache.

Sitting down in the makeup chair with his eyes closed, Choso heaved a heavy sigh as he got comfortable.

“Uhm, excuse me?” A timid voice sounded behind him, from the previously closed door to the room.

“Hm?” Cracking open an eye, Choso looked in the mirror in front of him to see who was speaking. A makeup assistant, wringing their hands together nervously and not meeting his bloodshot eyes.

“I’m uh- I’m here to start your makeup.” Your voice was so cute when addressing him, a little higher pitched than what he assumed was normal. Biting your lip, you slid into the room slowly, standing a good distance behind his chair and looking at him through the mirror.

“Okay, I’ll sit up.” Gulping the rest of his coffee down, Choso sat up pin straight in the makeup chair. Even if he fell asleep in the chair he trained himself well enough to not slouch over once he was in this position.

You began to work silently, pulling out products and laying them down with trembling hands. Your nervousness was cute, endearing almost to Choso. He knew he could look rather intimidating, that’s partly why he had so many followers, and to see you so scared in front of him made a lazy smirk grace his face.

“I’ll be putting your base on now?” Even though you tried to sound stern your sentence came out as a question and Choso blew air sharply through his nose, fighting the uptick of his lips as you fiddled with products.

Choso sat perfectly still while you began to touch his face. With half lidded eyes he could see your name badge swinging from the lanyard around your neck. (Y/N) was printed in large letters, impossible to miss.

A few minutes passed in pure silence between you and Choso could feel your hands shake when you cupped his cheek to apply foundation and patting powder across his face. The door swung open just as you went to swap a few products around, someone had come to take you away for a few minutes.

“Oh, I’ll only be gone a little bit, but the main makeup artist should be here before I return.” You spewed out, dropping the things in your hands against the counter. Forcing a polite smile at Choso, your feet shuffled awkwardly as you flip-flopped between saying something more, waiting for his reply or just leaving in entirely.

“Thank you (Y/N), you did a great job.” Choso said calmly, smiling back at you and taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. Your mouth dropped briefly in surprise and your brows rose up, your whole face opened up in sweet surprise. Biting your lip and rocking on your heels, a shy giggle left your chest.

“Bye Choso.” Giggling again as you said his name, you scurried from the room like an embarrassed school girl, gushing about Choso to the person waiting for you as you left the room.

First hangout

The next time Choso saw you, it was to fix his lip makeup between pictures, and your hands shook then too

As the day wore on, Choso found himself completely smitten with how helpless you were in front of him, how scared and nervous you were. He felt the ever growing urge to protect you, even if it was from himself

He’s elated when the team proposes going out to dinner together, both as a way to refuel and get to know each other better since this photoshoot will be a few days long

Heading out into the darkening world outside the studio, Choso makes sure to stick close by you

He’s not standing directly near you, but Choso makes sure to stay behind you as the group walks. He’s watching you talk animatedly with your friends, no doubt other small time assistants just eager to get started in the industry. Your smile warms his heart and when you laugh loudly at a crosswalk Choso chuckles as well.

Once at the restaurant, he cunningly makes sure he’s seated next to you. He doesn’t say anything, but he can tell your demeanor has shifted because you get just a little bit quieter, that nervous energy comes back a little.

“(Y/N), what’re you thinking of getting?” Choso asks you as he looks over the menu. He can hear your breath hitch, obviously surprised he even addressed you.

“Uhm, I’m not sure, I’ve never been here before.” Shrugging your shoulder, you quickly skim the menu. “Is there anything you’re thinking of getting?”

“Hmmm…” Drumming his fingers on the table, Choso shrugs as well. “Whatever you get, I’ll get too.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.” Laughing nervously, you flip through the menu. “I don’t even know what you like.”

“I’ll like whatever you like.” Choso wouldn’t necessarily call this flirting, he didn’t consider himself particularly suave or charming, but from the way you stammered and hid your face with the menu, clearly flustered, told him that most people would consider what he was doing flirting. Especially you.

“Okay but don’t blame me if you don’t like it.” Came your whispered reply from behind the menu, and Choso just knew your cheeks and ears were on fire.

“As long as you pick it out, I won’t have a single complaint.”

First kiss

From that moment on, Choso knew he liked you. It wasn’t hard to get you to come out of your shell and talk more casually with him, afterall he was the oldest of a lot of brothers

Talking with you all throughout dinner, Choso was a little more excited to go to work. Even if you didn’t end up liking him the same way, you could still be friends - something that Choso was kind of lacking

As the days of the photoshoot wore on and you got closer with each other, Choso found himself yearning to ask you to hang out outside of all of this, when it all ends and you don’t have to be professional with him

He knows he only has one chance left at the very last team dinner, a celebratory occasion that is sure to go out with a bang

“Let’s drink to all the hard work we put in these last few days!” The photographer cheered, already drunk and swaying in his chair. No one cared though, everyone was already a little drunk. Choso had a few beers himself and was feeling the beginnings of a pleasant buzz, and it seemed so were you. With a dopey smile on your face and slightly glassy eyes, you laughed a little too hard at a joke across the table with a fruity drink in your hand.

“(Y/N) don’t drink too much, you’re a terrible lightweight!” Someone teased a few seats down and a couple people chuckled in agreement.

“W-whatever!” Sticking your tongue out, you downed the rest of your drink and quickly ordered another. “I deserve to have fun, that photoshoot was stressful!”

It was indeed. Between actually taking the pictures, going to the different locations, waking up early and creating promo content for his Instagram, Choso was swamped. The only highlights of his day would be when you would come to do his makeup or fix it, or these times when you’d sit together during dinner.

“Yeah you do.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, Choso pat it a few times and you easily swayed with the motions. This wasn’t the first time he was touching you, he’d pat you on the back a few other times, but seeing you bend so easily made him laugh.

Choso kept a keen eye on you for the entirety of dinner, watching you down drink after drink and forcing you to drink water in between some of them. It was fun to see you let go like this, he never thought he’d get the chance, and the desire to protect you was coming up again.

When the group decided to go to karaoke after dinner, Choso kept an arm around your shoulder as you all walked to the next location. He kept you from falling and bumping into things and being kidnapped by random strangers you wanted to talk to as you walked by. Getting to the room in one piece, you all crowd in and the party continues.

Choso can barely make heads or tails of what’s going on, there’s people taking pictures and videos of everything, his manager is drunkenly securing another deal for him over the phone, and there’s loud and offkey singing blaring through the speakers. He almost thinks about bailing, but seeing you so amped up and singing along as well has him staying.

“Choso, what’d you think?” You shout over the music ten minutes later. You’re breathless from doing a song and collapse into the open seat next to him.

“You did great.” Choso grins. He can see the sweat on your hairline and he had definitely taken pictures of you singing to look at later. You beam at him, obviously happy to get his approval, and bounce up and down in your seat.

“I have to go pee, do you know where the bathroom is?” Your tiny drunk bladder would truly be the death of you. Helping you up, Choso exits the karaoke room and guides you down the hall to the bathrooms, far away from the noise filled rooms. Waiting for you to come out, Choso can tell you’re properly drunk.

“You good?” Quirking his head to the side, Choso grabs your upper arm as you stumble towards him.

“Choso! I gotta- gotta do something!” Hiccuping through your words, you have the front of his shirt in a vice grip as you square your shoulders in front of him. With a fiery determined look in your eyes, you push forward.

At first, you bump your noses painfully together and a quiet curse slips under your breath. But then you try again and your lips actually make contact with Choso’s. The kiss is sloppy, messy - it’s as drunk as you are. He can taste the liquor on your lips, creating a smooth glide along the surface that makes it easier to slide against him.

Just as Choso is getting into it, his hands coming to grip your waist instead of your arms, you let go. Push him away hard and stumble back at the same time. There’s tears in your eyes, lower lip quivering pathetically.

“(Y/N)-”

“I-I should go.”

“(Y/N) wait-” You run away before he can say anything, before Choso has a chance to grab your hand and pull you back to him and tell you that he’s wanted to kiss you for a while now. Standing dumbly in the hallway alone, he hears the slam of a karaoke room door, no doubt from you.

Slinking back into the room, Choso can see that you’ve decided to sandwich yourself between two other people and avoid his burning eye contact for the rest of the night. You don’t even properly say goodbye to him when it’s time to part, just slip away into the Uber your friends called.

First confession

Even though you managed to give him the slip, Choso still got your phone number from someone before the party completely dispersed

The kiss stayed on his mind for the rest of the night, keeping him up as he played the moment over and over again in his head

By the time morning came, Choso was itching to message you

He had to know why you kissed him, and if you’d let him kiss you again

(Choso): hey this is Choso I got your number from one of the others

(Choso): we have something to talk about

He waited a good couple hours for you to text back. The longer time went on, the longer Choso just wanted to call you and be done with waiting in limbo.

(Y/N): sorry about last night

That was all you had to say and Choso just knew you were kicking yourself over it.

(Choso): don’t be sorry, I liked it

(Y/N): you don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better

(Y/N): it was a drunk mistake and it won’t happen again

(Choso): what if I want it to happen again?

He could see the little typing bubbles disappear and reappear with a fervor. Your mind must be racing as much as his was.

(Y/N): I’m not interested in being a fling

(Choso): good thing I don’t want you as just a fling

There was a nervous sort of adrenaline building up in Choso’s body, making his cheeks flush and fingers tremble, but emboldening him as well to keep going.

(Choso): Let me take you out on a date, I wanna see you at least one more time

(Choso): then you can decide if it really won’t ever happen again

(Choso): deal?

You were silent on the other end reading his messages. There were no typing bubbles to give away your position. Choso was stuck in limbo.

(Y/N): alright, deal

First date

Choso quickly set up a date at a trendy cafe he frequented, one that he took plenty of Instagram pictures at

He could sense your hesitation to go out with him over the phone and he was quick to dash away any second thoughts you had about dating someone that was internet famous

Choso liked you for you, not for what you could potentially bring to him in terms of content

He waited nervously outside the train station for you, wearing an outfit he’d painstakingly reworked a hundred times before deciding on something

“Choso!” You called out to him, rushing towards his figure waiting against a brick wall.

“Hey.” Smiling softly, Choso’s fingers twitched with the urge to hug you, but he held it off. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, possibly scare you off by being too forward.

“You’re here early.” Your eyes quickly danced over the clothes he chose and you let out a hum. “I feel self conscious now, you dressed so nicely for this!”

“You think?” He chuckled, tugging on the edge of the designer hoodie he’d thrown on.

“Yeah, but that’s to be expected of an Instagram star!” Shrugging your shoulders overdramatically, you gestured behind you to the bustling sidewalk full of people. “Should we get going? I’ve never been to the place you suggested.”

“Yeah, lets go.” Choso’s hand hovered over your lower back, guiding you through the people and onto the sidewalk. All it took was seeing you jostled around by a few people walking by for Choso to get fed up and grasp your hand firmly in his, weaving his fingers through yours.

“Stick close to me, it’s pretty crowded today.” He whispered in your ear, pulling you halfway behind him and grabbing your other hand as well and guiding it to hold onto the back of his hoodie. With his imposing nature and intimidating stature, Choso effortlessly pushed through the throngs of people and you quickly found yourself at the cafe in question.

“Let’s go in.” Turning around to face you, he’s stunned when you leap up and peck his cheek.

“Thanks Choso.” Giggling, you sidestep him and go to open the door of the cafe, but you’re stopped by Choso’s unmoving body. “What’s up Choso?”

“(Y/N).” He’s looking at you with scarily wide eyes and his tone is deathly serious. “Will you kiss me again if I buy you a drink?”

“Huh? Yeah of course, but-” You’re cut off from telling him that you’d kiss him without the drink by Choso bolting forward into the cafe.

“I’ll buy you all the drinks you could ever want then. And a slice of cake too.”

#jujutsu kaisen #choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

[buckysgoldenheart]

The B****, The Favorite, His Sister & Her Lover

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is in love with you, but you have been avoiding him for a month and you are forced to face the repercussions of your actions when your brother brings him to family dinner. (Fluffy, sorta smutty)

Words: 4979 (Sorry ☹, but I hope you like it if you decide it’s not too long).

All you wanted, well, not wanted, but all you planned for was a simple, hopefully non-stressful dinner where your mother made her lasagna and your brother eased her not-so-innocent attacks on you with his charming personality. It was a Friday. Friday’s were supposed to be relaxing, and if you could ignore the ‘subtle’ digs at your lack of relationship you might even consider it a win.

You sat at the counter, sipping at wine as your small mother slid her lasagna into the oven with two large, rose-printed oven mitts. What should have been a simple task ended up as your mother spending an entire minute adjusting and readjusting the pan until it was dead center on the rack.

“You’re letting all the heat out, mom.”

Her nearly entirely gray-haired head was practically in the oven when she said, “It has to be perfect or it won’t bake evenly, Y/N. If you ever cooked, you would know that. Men like when a woman can cook, you know.”

You rolled your eyes and took another sip of the dark reddish-purple liquid when the doorbell rang. Fucking finally, you thought, Brother dearest to the rescue. You actually loved Johnny almost more than anyone. He was your best friend, and without a doubt, you could show up at his apartment asking for help hiding a body and he would drop everything to google the best place to do it.

Probably a little too eagerly, you set your glass down, jogged to the small foyer, and whipped open the door. “Damn it, Johnny, you’re late. Mom is—”

Your body froze. Johnny was smiling wide, holding up a bottle of gin in his hand and waving it at you like a prize, standing next to the one man you had been trying to avoid for the better half of a month. You closed your parted lips and slid your tongue over them to wet the sudden dryness.

“Where’s mom?” Johnny asked.

You nodded your head in the direction of the kitchen. “Where else?”

You brother slipped by you, disappearing around the corner as he called for your mother. A sharp squeal echoed through the halls a moment later, your mother’s high-pitched tone crying ‘my baby boy,’ over and over.

Looking at the man before you: the blue eyes, the dark brown hair, the plump lips with an uneasy smile, you tried to look welcoming. You were sure you failed miserably, but who could blame you. Avoiding him had been going so well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You swallowed. “Hi…Henry.” Awkwardly, you opened the door a little wider and stepped to the side. He cleared his throat and brushed passed you, the toned chest you had tried to forget rubbing up against your breasts. “Just, um…” You pointed in the direction of the kitchen before you realized it would just be better for him to follow you. “Follow me.”

When you saw Johnny playfully twirling your mother around to music he had turned on at some point, you internally groaned. He really was the perfect son. Perfect enough to make up for your lack of achievements. Johnny paused, large grin still in place when he saw you and Henry.

“Mom,” He said, gesturing a hand your way, “This is Henry, a good friend. We work together.”

Her eyes brightened even more at the sight of him. Tall, broad, sexy; the perfect potential suitor for her pathetic daughter. You just prayed she could keep her mouth shut for a single night.

“Henry,” She said, taking his hand in hers. “So lovely to meet you. Please, take a seat. What would you like to drink? I can get you anything.”

Henry looked anxious at the sudden onslaught of attention. You knew the feeling, though it was often directed your way in a more negative manner. Before Henry could respond, your brother set a glass of bourbon in front of him to which he responded with a nod, a smile, and a ‘thank you.’

The scene in front of you was more and more beginning to feel like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Henry was sitting at the kitchen counter of your childhood home with a drink in his hand, chatting with your mother and brother like it wasn’t weird. He looked misplaced. He was too big for the room. His shoulders were massive, and he was so, so tall, and there was something about it that had you panicking.

“Johnny!” Your brother looked your way. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked to your old bedroom. You shut the door with an annoyed huff once your bother’s body was barely on your side of it. He observed the room as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times before then winced when he met your eyes, having run out of places to look. “Oh, don’t give me that.”

You crossed your arms. “What the fuck is he doing here!”

“He said he was going to be alone for the weekend and when I told him I was going home for the night, I offered for him to come.”

Raising an eyebrow, you scoffed. “And why would he accept that thrilling proposal?”

Johnny chucked and rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny thing—”

“Oh, is it?”

“I may have told him you were coming, too…”

“Is that so?” You said a little louder.

Your brother shrugged and sighed. “Look, Y/N, he loves you…a lot. I barely mentioned your name before he started to pack his overnight bag.” He chuckled at the memory. “Personally, I don’t get it. I never really felt like you outgrew that mousy, awkward phase, but I guess he sees passed that.”

Groaning, you grabbed a pillow off your bed and threw it at his head. “Johnny!”

He tossed the pillow back at you and you swatted it away. “He’s a good guy, Y/N. You could do worse. He could probably do better, but he did spend the entire drive here unashamedly asking about you, so he must think otherwise.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m the best and you love me.” Johnny walked to you and threw and arm over your shoulders. “Now, come on. We’ve left him alone with our mother. No one deserves that.”

----------

“Oh, I did see that…” Your mother snapped her fingers. “Oh, what was it? Uncle something, the uncle man, no that’s not it, uncle—”

“The Man from U.N.C.L.E,” Henry finished for her.

“Yes!” She smiled triumphantly as if she had come to answer on her own. “I quite enjoyed that one.”

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

“My son says you’re Superman as well. Is that so?”

“Mom,” Your brother interrupted as he dragged you back in the room. “Leave Henry alone, alright? He gets questioned all the time. He doesn’t need it from us.”

Your mother swatted a hand. “Oh, nonsense. How am I supposed to get to know Henry here if I don’t ask questions?”

“Are you interviewing him for something?”

As she donned the oven mitts again, bent down, and pulled dinner out of the oven, your mother winked. “Maybe…”

You let out a quiet whimper, grabbed your glass, and downed the rest of your wine in half a second. Johnny nodded your way and handed you the bottle. You nodded back in appreciation and refilled your glass a little more than socially acceptable.  

“Ok, now, everyone at the table,” You mother announced.

----------

The lasagna was annoyingly delicious, but the conversation ruined it. You were definitely buzzed by now, trying to scarf down the last of your food. Maybe you could feign illness and dip out before dessert. The two hour drive back to your apartment at nine p.m., tipsy or not, sounded exponentially better than staying the night like you usually did. If only it weren’t illegal and didn’t mean potentially harming yourself or someone else. Johnny watched you sympathetically, so very clearly understanding your discomfort, until your mother drew his attention at the mention of his name.

“John has a girlfriend,” She said to Henry, then looked at her son. “Where is Margaret, Johnny?”

“Business trip,” He replied. When she raised her eyebrows, undoubtedly impressed that her son found a woman important enough to be needed around the world, Johnny elaborated. “Paris this month. She is collaborating with some famous designer out there.”

“She is so smart and beautiful, very driven. It’s extremely impressive. You must be so proud of her.”

Johnny smiled at the thought of his girlfriend. He did love her in a way he’d never loved any other and you knew how hard it was for him when she was gone, so you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I am proud of her. I am, um…I’m actually going to ask her to marry me when she gets back.”

Your mother squealed and practically jumped out of her seat. “Oh, my goodness!” Then, she actually stood and trotted over to her son, wrapped her arms around him and kissed the side of his head. Henry met your eyes as you averted them from the spectacle that was your mother, seeming to be examining every feature of your face with an undetermined expression. You wanted to look away but found yourself unable. His stare reminded you too much of the last time you saw him. The way he had studied you then, it made you melt. It was as if he was trying to figure you out, like he thought you were some kind of otherworldly being with a uniqueness he couldn’t quite find the words to describe.

You watched as his lips slowly parted and your thoughts turned dark. You mother would be ashamed, but she quickly stopped them as she fawned more over your brother. “I’ll have grandchildren in no time!” She placed on last peck on your bother’s cheek before taking her seat again, folding her napkin back over her lap. “Henry, have you met Margaret?”

Henry’s eyes finally left your face. “I have actually.”

“Oh, isn’t she absolutely lovely? Just perfect for my Johnny. I wish Y/N would find someone.”

“Mom,” You and Johnny said at the same time. Here we go. But your mother ignored your protests.

“Someone like you, Henry,” She continued and rested her hand on his forearm. “You would be perfect. You are so charming and sweet and handsome; you’d be good for her. Y/N has a horrible history with men, absolute buffoons. They never treat her right. They never love her.”

“Mom!” Johnny shouted, thankfully trying to protect you, because with each word that passed your mother’s lips, you lost the will to protect yourself.

“But a man like you—”

The sound of your chair skidding across the hardwood drowned out any other noise. You stood, threw your napkin down and, without a word or glance at anyone at the table, left for your room.

Johnny blew out a breath and shook his head. “Mom…”

Her eyebrows rose and she shrugged, her hands out in question like a small child when asked where the last of the cookies went. “What?”

“You need to lay off. Honestly. Give her a break.”

That surprised look on her face quickly shifted. “Oh, please, John. She knows I mean well. When I find her a man, she will thank me.”

“Will she?” Your brother’s lips thinned out. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Henry dabbed his mouth with his napkin and stood. “No. I’ll go,” He said, but paused when your mother put her small hand on his arm again.

“Oh, Henry, dear, you don’t have to deal with her.”

“No, mom,” Johnny interjected. “Let Henry go. I’ll stay and help you with the dishes. I think dinner is over.”

----------

The knock at your door had you groaning. You didn’t want to see anyone, not even Johnny. There was nothing he could say to make it better, to make the entire night disappear as if it never happened. All you wanted to do was lay back in your bed and stare at the little glow stars you had stuck on your ceiling when you were five. If you turned off your bedside lamp, they would shine that bright alien-green color that once had you wishing you could live with some wild, extra-terrestrial being instead of your own mother. But then the door pounded again.

“Not now, Johnny.”

You thought your simple, aggravated tone was enough to persuade anyone to leave you alone, until a moment later when the door eased open. “Not Johnny,” Henry said, and your heart skipped a beat. “Can we talk?”

Keeping your eyes on the little ceiling stars, you said, “I swear to god, if this is about my mom—”

“It’s not.”

“If it’s about the other thing, then the answer is still no.”

Henry quietly groaned, shut the door, and stepped to the side of the bed. The room was suddenly warmer as you met his eyes, and he nudged your legs to the side so he could sit. “Why not?”

You took a deep breath and scooted your body up until your back was against the wall. He still looked at you; determined, you realized. He wanted what he wanted, and he clearly had no plans to leave without answers. “That was an accid—”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes,” You said firmly. “It was.”

He rose a perfect eyebrow. “How so? Neither of us were drunk, we both wanted it. You told me—”

“I know what I told you.”

Henry nodded and swallowed, his eyes darting to the floor for a second before back to you. “Were you lying to me then?”

‘No,’ You wanted to say, but somehow, your lips could not form the word. Though even if they could, you weren’t sure any sound would come out.

“Tell me, how does it happen that two people can admit their feelings for one another, sleep together, and then one of those people decides to leave in the middle of the night and start avoiding the other.”

“Didn’t I just say—”

“Yea, well, I want to talk about it,” he interrupted you, and you didn’t miss the irritation starting to seep into that delectably deep voice of his.

The look on his face had you wishing you could rip out your own stomach to avoid the nausea it induced. At least I feel guilty, you thought. You could be one of those people who lies to get in someone pants and then avoids them. You didn’t lie, so there would always be that.

“Why did you leave?” He asked.

You didn’t even know. Was there actually a single reason, or where there so many little reasons that you couldn’t pinpoint one in particular. Either way, you couldn’t explain. You knew what you felt for him. You knew it scared you, and that you didn’t want to hurt him. But how do you make a stupid choice like unwrapping his arms from your body in the middle of the night while he sleeps so you could leave, and then ever be able to look him in the eye again. You weren’t strong enough for that, not when it came to him. He made you feel amazing and beautiful and loved, and you threw it back in his face.

“Y/N—”

“Can we please not do this,” You whispered.

“No, we are doing this,” Henry said, standing sharply. “We are definitely doing this.”

You stood as well, willing yourself to be as tall as him. At least then it would be fair, but he was inches above you, and you didn’t possess the magical abilities to make yourself grow after the age of 15, so… “Henry—”

He stared you down, stepping to you and forcing you back until your spine met the wall. “Just answer the damn question, Y/N. Is what you said to me a lie?”

“I…I’m…I don’t—” You stammered and, though tried to hold your ground, couldn’t stop yourself from looking away and to the tacky, blue carpet flooring. But Henry wasn’t having it. He crooked a finger under your chin and lifted until you had no choice other than to gaze into the ocean blue of his eyes and at the small brown island in the left one.

“Do you love me or not?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. You wanted to say something, you had to, he wouldn’t wait forever, but—

“Yes or no, Y/N.”

…He wouldn’t wait forever…

“Yes or--”

“Yes.”

In the same breath, he cupped your cheeks and put his lips on yours. Tasting him again sent shocks through every nerve of your body. It felt like your first sip of water after surviving days without; like the feeling of sunshine on your skin after being trapped so long in the darkness you lost track of time. It felt as if his kiss held inside it everything you needed to finally be free. No more denial, no more loneliness or fear, no more avoiding him because he clearly wasn’t going to let that happen for one more minute.

When you finally gave in and parted your lips for him, Henry groaned. His tongue on yours created a fire that burst inside of you and soothed the chills his touch created, and before you had time to process another thought, you were pushing him back to your bed and straddling his lap. Warm hands traveled up and down your back until the moan you made at the feeling of his hard on pressing to your core had him wrapping his arms tight around your waist. So tight, you were not sure how you could still breathe.

You sneaked your hand between your bodies and worked to unbuckle the belt around his hips, but he pulled back just as you yanked it from the loops and tossed it to the side. You searched his eyes for any reason he may have stopped you, but all you saw was love. He reached up and brushed a stray hair behind your ear, then caressed your cheek and stroked along your cheekbone with his thumb.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyebrows still drawn together in confusion.

Henry smiled to slightest. “I love you.”

“…Still?” You looked away from him in embarrassment. “Even after avoiding you for a month?”

“Yes, still,” He chuckled. “Even after that.”

You let out a little whimper and touched your forehead to his. “I don’t know how you could.”

“Because it’s you, baby.” He put a hand on the back of your neck and pecked your lips once, twice. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

You lifted your head from his and he smiled, glancing at your lips before meeting your eyes. “How long?”

“Since your brother brought you to the Fallout wrap party.”

“Henry…”

“I know. I should’ve told you a long time ago, way before last month.” With one hand, he threaded his fingers through your hair. The other started to rub up and down your thigh.

He nudged his nose against yours and before he could kiss you again, you whispered, “I love you.”

Your words made him contentedly hum from deep in his chest, then he placed his lips on yours again, your bottom one between his two. He sucked on it and softly nibbled, and you slid your hands up his chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck. Grinding your hips down forced a groan from Henry as he went for the button of his jeans.

Your lips separated for a moment so you could hike up your skirt, and before he could, you slipped your fingers inside his pants and pulled out his cock, grasping it in your warm hand. His lips parted at your touch, his eyes staring hard into yours as you lifted up, tugged your panties to the side, and started to ease yourself onto him. His cock parted your folds and stretched you so deliciously wide that the familiar string from his size had you gasping.

“Oh, God,” Henry sucked in a breath, sheathed fully inside you. “So good, sweetheart.”

You nodded, lost for words. Nothing could describe the feeling of him inside you. He filled you the way no man ever could, in more ways than one. Every hollow part of you he sated; your body, your heart, your mind, all brought to peace just by being with him. How you let your fear get in the way of this for an entire month, you couldn’t understand. But as he held you so close nothing could get between your bodies, you pushed your thoughts to the back of your mind and started to rock your hips back and forth on his lap.

----------

“That is a lot of stars,” Henry said as you laid back in the bed and stared up at your ceiling, his arms still wrapped around you. He hadn’t let you go, even for a second. From the moment you said ‘yes’ to his question, his hands remained on your body, his skin always touching yours.

“I like space.”

“I know,” He chuckled, then pulled you on top of him. You overlapped your hands on his chest and rested your chin on them.

“Oh yea?”

“Mhm. I know an awful lot about you. I’ve been paying attention for a while.”

“I know things about you, too.”

“Oh yea?” He asked, mimicking you with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

“I know that you’re obsessed with video games, you like to cook and you’re actually good at it, you want a family, and you love Kal more than anyone.”

“Almost more than anyone.” He smiled at you and brushed a knuckle down your cheek. “Don’t tell him though.”

You giggled but continued. “I know that you are supportive and determined and you always go after what you want--”

“Like I did with you.”

“—And there is no one in the world like you. You make me feel safe…and loved.”

He leaned closer and you rose to meet his lips. “You’re all I want.”

The corners of your mouth crooked up, but a moment later they fell and you sat up in fear. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“We’ve been in here,” You paused to check the small alarm clock on your bedside table, “For an hour.” Standing quickly, you looked around, wildly searching for your underwear that Henry had yanked down your legs at some point and tossed to God knows where.

He hopped up and threw his shirt over his head. When you handed him his belt, he nodded and thanked you with a smile before he began to slip it through the loops.

You sighed in relief when you found the dark blue lacy panties and pulled them up your legs. “My mother is gonna lose it. I bet the only reason she hasn’t barged in here is because of Johnny.” You ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, looking for garments and hurriedly clothing yourself. When you passed in front of Henry, he grabbed your arm.

“Babe,” He said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

----------

You stepped down the stairs and casually rounded the corner into the living room as if you hadn’t just had sex twice, to see Johnny sitting in one of two brown leather armchairs, sipping his gin and tonic. Your brother smirked when he saw your somewhat disheveled appearance, with Henry behind you, one of his large hands on your hip.

“Hey, sis.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start. Where’s mom?”

He nodded his head to the couch you hadn’t bothered to glace at yet, where your mother’s body draped along it like a rag doll, a glint of drool at the corner of her mouth. “What the fuck?”

“Mom still cannot hold her booze.” He stood and watched your mother as she let out a loud snore. “Don’t worry, she didn’t hear you. She was too busy ranting about your lack of love life.” You swallowed and Johnny walked up to you. Raising one eyebrow, he looked between you and Henry, then took a gulp of the clear liquid in his glass. “The irony, huh?”

Before you could say a word, your brother slipped by you and patted Henry a few times on the shoulder. “Oh, and you’re free to go home,” Johnny called from the kitchen. “I have a feeling you’d both rather spend your night…well, not here, and I can look after our dear mother. You can thank me tomorrow.” He chuckled.

Henry looked down at you and smiled softly. “We can stay if you want.”

“Are you kidding?” You snickered. “Just give me a minute, then we can go.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll go wait by the car. Tell Johnny I’ll see him Monday, yea?”

You nodded and as Henry left out the front door, you made your way down the tiled hallway that led to the kitchen. You found your brother sitting at the counter and typing on his phone with a smile.

“Margaret?” You asked.

Johnny placed his phone back on the counter and took a swig of gin straight from the bottle. “Yea.”

“How is she?”

“Good. She’s doing really well out there.” He smiled, though halfheartedly, and went for the fridge to pull out your mother’s devil’s food cake. Grabbing a fork, he walked back to the counter, put the cake in the center and dug right into the side of it. You stared as he devoured bite after bite. If it were you, you would have surely faced the wrath of the small, plump woman passed out in the next room, but Johnny ate without a care in the world. “I fucking miss her.”

You picked at a fingernail as you asked, “Is it awful…to have someone you love hours away from you for weeks at a time?” You hated to see your brother miss his girlfriend so much his insides hurt, and you had no desire to be in the same situation.

“Not as awful as it probably sounds. It would be easier with you and Henry, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He gave you an amused look that only barely masked his own pain.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he and I have to go wherever the production companies take The Witcher, but you can travel freely with your job and, believe me, he’ll take you everywhere he’s filming as long as you say yes. He also might try to superglue you to his side though, so watch out for that.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to not smile as much as your brother’s words were begging you to, then forced it down with a swallow. “Johnny…” He hummed, and when you didn’t continue, he turned his head to look at you. “Thank you. I don’t know that I would’ve talked to him again if you hadn’t brought him here. I would’ve tried to forget about it, and him.”

Johnny smirked as he poked at the cake with his fork. “Nah, Henry wouldn’t have let that happen. He’s, like, an idiot for you, but a very…determined idiot.”

“Really?”

“Oh, baby sister, you have no idea.” He rubbed up and down the side of your arm the way he used to as kids in high school when he thought you were being a little too naïve for your own good. “But I’ll tell you all about the nauseatingly, sappy whining he did over you another time.”

That was a story you were sure Henry would try to keep as far away from you as possible and the thought made you smile. The close friends he probably told, or ‘whined’ to, as your brother said, would undoubtedly have a ball trying to recount every detail just to see how red Henry’s cheeks could get.

You wrapped your arms around Johnny from the side, your head just meeting his shoulder, and squeezed. He wiggled his arm out of your tight hold to tuck you into his side then kissed your forehead.

“I love you,” You said.

“I know.”

-----------

Seeing Henry leaning against your car, patiently waiting for you, made something in your chest lighten. He didn’t seem bored or annoyed or itching to rush you along, but just content to stay in that one spot until you were ready to go. You’d never had that before: a man who didn’t force you to follow every minute of his schedule, who didn’t make you feel like you could never be an inconvenience without consequences, who didn’t hold you down by the boulder on your chest, suffocating you until you complied. It made you appreciate what it meant to be able to inhale and exhale for more than just the need to keep your body from dying. It gave you the chance to see that there are two types of breathing: There’s the breathing that keeps you alive, and there’s the breathing that keeps you sane. Henry allowed you to have both, and it took the smallest of gestures to give you that relief.

He smiled bright when he saw you striding over the front yard grass to him and took your hands in his once you were within reach. “You ready?”

You nodded and rested your head on his chest, inhaling the scent you memorized a year ago. “Yours or mine?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“If we go to yours, we can be having sex sooner. Mine’s an extra fifteen away,” You said and looked up at him.

“Mine it is.” He winked and then kissed you.

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

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[vs-redemption]

This piece was written for a collaboration event hosted by @sightoru and @anarchicmartyr . Please check out the masterlist to read and support the other writers participating in this event. Some pieces from the event contain adult content, so minors please proceed with caution!

Prompt: College AU Character: Atsumu Miya Word Count: 3,586 Warnings: None!

With a nod of satisfaction, you look around at your tiny new dorm room to admire your work. The space was small, but you’d made the most out of it. The twin sized mattress on the wooden frame was now fitted with a new set of sheets and comforter, the TV and mini fridge were set up and working, and all your clothes were hung up on hangers in the narrow closet by the door that led out to the main living area where your suitemates were already making themselves at home.

You try to keep an optimistic mindset as you hear them giggling and skipping up and down the hallway, gossiping about this and that with a playlist going in the background, surprisingly loud despite the small size of the Bluetooth speaker. You could already tell that you weren’t as much of an extrovert as the girls you’d be housing with, but it was your first year of college and your first time living away from home. You imagined it was the same situation for the rest of them, and you couldn’t blame them for taking advantage of the new taste of freedom.

After a moment of debating what to do next, you sit at your new desk and open up your laptop to log in to your campus email. Classes would be starting the next morning, and you wanted to make sure you were as prepared as possible. Maybe you’d already read each syllabus multiple times, but it couldn’t hurt to review the buildings on the map you’d printed out and covered with notes and highlighter just one more time.

A commotion from outside your room pulls your attention away a few seconds later and you hear a few male voices mix in with the music and giggles. The conversation was a little muffled, but you heard bits of what they were saying. Apparently they lived on the same floor and wanted to come introduce themselves. You let out a small laugh and shake your head, content with listening to the shenanigans from a safe distance until a particular question caught your ear.

“So, is this all of you?” one of the visitors asks, something in his voice making you apprehensive from the start.

“Um, no,” one of your suitemates answers. “There’s one more, but she’s in her room.”

“Great!” was the enthusiastic reply, “Let’s go say hi!”

You turn to look at your door nervously as the sound of footsteps comes closer. It wasn’t that you were opposed to meeting new people, it was just overwhelming when it was so many in a short period of time. It was only day one after all, and you were still trying to process being in a new place, sharing a living space with a group of girls who you’d just met a few hours before. It was all a bit draining and you just needed some time to adjust and recharge. You’re already shuffling towards your bedroom door though when the sound of the knock comes.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find when you pulled open your door, but it wasn’t the person standing in front of you. The first thing that registered in your mind was that his smile was far too bright and genuine for someone meeting a completely new face for the first time, and there was just as much raw emotion in his excited brown eyes. You could tell his hair was dyed since the blonde locks falling over his forehead didn’t match the shorter dark brown hair revealed by his undercut. The simple black t-shirt that he wore showed off arms that were just muscular enough to clue you in that he was probably some kind of athlete. Overall, he was everything you’d expect from a typical hot college guy, and you were sure you’d never been this close to anyone who had so much confidence in their presence before.

“Um, hi?” You greet him softly while going up on your toes to look over his shoulder, expecting the rest of his friends to be around but they were still in the living area chatting up your suitemates. It seemed your existence hadn’t been as interesting to them.

“My buddies and I live right down the hall, so we just came by to say hello,” his eyes soften a bit and he tilts his head, making you avert your gaze awkwardly. You were no match for the pure energy radiating off of him.

“Oh, that was nice,” you nod your head. Your ability to make small talk was usually better than this, but words seemed to be failing you at this inopportune time. “Thanks.” Confusion blooms in his eyes briefly before his lips tug up into a handsome smile, different from the toothy expression from before.

“My name’s Atsumu Miya!” he tells you, “What’s yours?”

For a moment, you can only stare at him, wondering how you’d even held the attention of a guy like this for as long as you had. Whether he truly cared to know or not, you mutter out your name while fiddling awkwardly with the handle on your door. There’s a beat of silence before a different male voice calls from the living room, almost in monotone and barely loud enough to hear.

“Leave her alone ‘Tsumu, you idiot. You’re bothering her.”

The comment was clearly extremely offensive, or maybe it was just the person who’d said it, but there was an instant reaction from the boy at your door. His relaxed face suddenly contorts in annoyance, his nose scrunching up childishly and his lip curling almost as if in disgust. It was such an extreme change in demeanor, you couldn’t help the small giggle that escapes your lips. Atsumu’s eyebrows perk up at the sound and his attention turns back to you in an instant.

“Oh,” you shy away a little, eyes darting toward where the comment had come from. “It’s fine.” And really, he wasn’t actually bothering you, but he didn’t seem to know how to proceed either from that point. “It was nice to meet you though,” you offer a smile and he seemed to understand that the conversation had come to a natural end. He nods politely, but still manages to hold your gaze for a moment as you slowly close your door.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The first couple weeks of college passed in a daze as you figured out your class schedule, learned where different places were on campus, and got to know your suitemates and their habits. You spent a decent amount of time with them, sometimes going to get meals together at the campus cafeteria or making plans to study for the classes you happened to have together. It was easy to get along with them, and they didn’t make you feel bad when you went to bed earlier than they did or retreated to your room if things got too rowdy. It was a comfortable friendship, and you appreciated that they didn’t try to force you to go out to any wild parties when you had classes the next morning. Honestly, you didn’t know how they could do that, but it was amusing to watch them have their fun.

“You’re just in time for the movie!”

You walk into your dorm after your last class of the week to find your suitemates huddled around the TV with a group of friends, which was a little unusual. They were almost always already out by the time you got back from the ridiculous Friday night, three hour lecture. Even you weren’t crazy enough to want to take a class like that, but it was required for your degree and only offered at that particular time. You look around the living room to see who was there. You recognized some of the faces, including the blonde guy who’d visited your room on the very first day. You hadn’t seen him since then, but he glances over his shoulder and gives you a wave, the smile on his face just as open and honest as you remembered.

“Come join us!” He offers happily.

“Uh, sure. Just a second.”

You head into your room to drop off the bag of books you’d been lugging around all day. What you actually wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. Your classes had reached the point where the professors expected you to be comfortable enough to start having exams and writing papers, and you felt the work load starting to take a toll. Still, despite being on the more introverted side, you weren’t antisocial. Hanging out and watching a movie sounded like a nice way to relax after a particularly challenging week. So, after getting changed into a pair of sweats, you head back out to join the others, finding a free spot on the floor where you can lean against the side of the sofa without killing your back. The movie starts and at about five minutes in, you feel a tap on the top of your head. You tilt your chin up and see Atsumu smiling down at you.

“Hey,” it was the loudest whisper you’d ever heard and you let out a laugh. “Were you in class?”

“Yeah?” You still couldn’t wrap your mind around how unguarded his body language was when he didn’t know you at all, and you wondered if he was genuinely just super friendly and wanted you to feel included or if he was setting some kind of trap for you with those big handsome smiles.

“Wow, you’re pretty serious about your studies, huh?” He folds his arms over the armrest of the sofa, and you recoil a bit, wondering if that was an insult. Atsumu just lets out a sigh though and continues talking. “I’m already struggling to keep up with my classes. I have volleyball practice in the evenings three times a week and games on the weekends.”

“Shut up, will you? Your annoying voice is ruining the movie.” It must’ve been the same person that called him out before because Atsumu’s face pulls into the same comical expression, nose scrunched up and a look of disturbance in his brown eyes.

“What did you say?!” he narrows his eyes to glare at the person who you couldn’t see from where you were on the ground. “Your annoying voice is ruining my conversation!”

“For it to be a conversation, she’d have to want to talk back to you.” The retort came in a bored tone, but the swiftness of the delivery only riled the blond up even further.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t interrupted…” One of the decorative pillows that had come with the dorm room comes flying out of nowhere and smacks Atsumu right upside the head, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

“Just be quiet and watch the movie…”

You see Atsumu’s long fingers grip the pillow, obviously weighing the pros and cons of throwing it right back. You can’t believe the friends were bickering like children, but the reactions from everyone else made it seem like this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

“Actually,” You reach up and tug the pillow from his hands. “Can I use that?” He releases his grip and watches you tuck it behind your back to use as extra support. His smile returns and he leans back over the armrest.

“Sorry about my brother,” He continues to talk, still not having learned his lesson. “Even though we’re identical twins he’s not nearly as fun as I am.”

“Atsumu!” It was a different voice this time, “Shut up!”

“Okay!” He finally gives in with a grimace, rolling his eyes in your direction before turning his attention to the movie. He was extremely obnoxious, but in an endearing way you supposed. Out of curiosity, you lean forward and instantly find the identical version of him sitting on the other end of the couch. He looked exactly the same, aside from his hair which was dyed an ashy grey color. The bickering made sense to you now though, knowing they were siblings. The rest of the movie passed quickly, and you excused yourself to head to bed as soon as it was finished, not being able to keep your eyes open a moment longer despite the others whose night was just getting started.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

With so many people on the same campus moving from building to building as they followed the same schedule every week, it made sense that you would run into and see the same people occasionally. A quick ‘hey’ or even just a simple nod seemed to be the generally accepted way in which to handle these situations by most people, but evidently Atsumu Miya was not most people.

“Good morning!” His tall form appeared next to you while you were standing in line for coffee one day. You’d just gotten out of one class and were in desperate need of caffeine before your next one.

“Morning,” you mumble back. When you turn your head, you’re met with the sight of him in an oversized hoodie and his blonde hair all tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. You can’t help but glance around you to see if anyone else was seeing him and wondering why he was talking to you.

“Don’t worry,” he misunderstands your wandering eyes. “Samu’s still sleeping so he can’t yell at me for talking to you.”

“That’s your brother’s name?” you ask and he nods his head in confirmation. You still weren’t sure what he wanted, but he continued to chat your ear off as you made your way to the front of the line. “What are you getting?” You ask him after you place your order.

“Oh no, I’m good.” He waves his hand, “I just wanted to say hi. Enjoy your next class!” You stare after him in disbelief as he walks away, unsure of what to make of what had just happened. Strangely enough, it hadn’t just been a random occurrence either. You seemed to run into Atsumu a lot over the next couple weeks, and he always stopped to chat for a while before going back to his day. He led the conversations mostly, ranting about his brother, classes, and volleyball club a bit before expressing a curiosity about your life since the previous encounter. Part of you felt that maybe he was just the type of person who needed to talk to everyone he meets to feel popular, but his genuine interest in you was making it hard to lock him into that category.

Little by little, Atsumu weaved himself into your routine until it was normal to stop and talk to him between classes at predicted times each day. You hadn’t even realized how used to the interactions you’d become until he didn’t show up while you were in line for coffee one day. At first, you couldn’t figure out why something felt off, but then you caught yourself looking around as if something was missing. When it dawned on you that the thing throwing off your normal coffee buying experience was Atsumu’s absence, you felt a little awkward. It wasn’t as if he was obligated to be there, but the slight feeling of disappointment followed you around for the rest of the day. You knew it was stupid, but worries kept popping up in your head that maybe he’d found someone else to talk to at that time, or that you had perhaps become too boring for him. By the time you got back to your dorm in the evening, you were sick of the drama you’d invented and tortured your own sanity with. You make sure to greet your suitemates before heading to your room to unload your books and maybe get started on some homework.

It was just about time for you to think about getting ready for bed when there’s a soft knock on your door. You assume it’s one of your suitemates until you hear the familiar voice whisper your name from the hallway, asking if you’re awake. The nervous butterflies that erupt in your stomach surprise you, and for a moment you consider pretending to be asleep to avoid whatever weird feelings you were starting to have for the overly friendly twin. You know you can’t just leave him out there though, so you shuffle over to the door and pull it open.

“Hey,” he has a weird guilty smile on his face, but you’re too busy processing the sight of him in a track jacket that hugged his upper body in the most distracting way and a pair of athletic shorts that showed off just how muscular his legs were. You weren’t used to seeing him dressed this way.

“Um, hi?” you drag your focus to his face, noticing for the first time that his hair was wet as if he’d just gotten out of the shower not too long before. “Did you just get out of practice?”

“Yeah,” he nods his head. “I tried to get here as soon as I could. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No,” a heat was raising to your cheeks as you tried to imagine what he needed from you so urgently.

“Oh, that’s good,” a boyish laugh escapes his lips. “I wanted to apologize for standing you up today.” When you just continue to stare at him he clarifies, “You know, at the coffee shop.”

“Oh,” you answer as if it hadn’t been on your mind the entire day, “Right.” There’s a short lag in the conversation, and Atsumu starts to bounce on his feet, looking nervous.

“Yeah, it’s just that my class this morning got canceled,” He offers up an explanation despite not being asked for one, “So the volleyball captain made me go and do a bunch of extra practice since I’m new to the team and stuff. I would’ve let you know, but I realized that I never got your number.”

Surely if Atsumu had only been talking to you for the sake of popularity, he wouldn’t be standing at your door looking like a sad puppy when he could’ve just waited until the next day to apologize. It made your head spin that he seemed to be so considerate of your feelings, even over something as miniscule as missing the couple minutes he usually spent with you while you waited in line for coffee. Putting a label on whatever he was to you was getting more and more difficult as time passed.

“That’s okay,” you tell him softly before offering a smile. “Thank you for letting me know. You didn’t have to rush over after practice though.”

The comment seemed to confuse the boy and he tilts his head. “But, I like you,” the confession comes from him so easily that you could’ve almost overlooked it completely. “And I missed seeing you today.” The butterflies from before seem to double in intensity and your find yourself struggling for words.

“I… missed you too,” it felt embarrassing to say out loud, but it wouldn’t be right not to tell him the truth when he was being so honest. Your awkward response is enough to bring that bright beaming smile back to his face and you see an eagerness bloom in his eyes.

“So, let me make it up to you?” He asks while pulling out his phone, “I don’t have a game this weekend, so I’ll be getting out of practice a little earlier than usual. Do you want to grab lunch with me after I’m done?”

“Yeah, sure.” You wished you didn’t sound so flustered, but you couldn’t help it. Even after all the exchanged conversations you’d had, Atsumu was still a bit overwhelming with the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. He hands you his phone so you can put your number in, explaining that you could work out the details of the date as the time got closer. Your heart flutters in your chest and you can hardly believe the excitement in his big brown eyes is for you.

“I should probably let you get to sleep now, huh?” He asks once he tucks his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Sorry for bugging you.”

“You’re not bugging me,” you assure him, feeling brave enough for a moment to meet his gaze. “I’m really looking forward to spending more time with you.” Atsumu’s eyes light up even more at the simple comment and he nods his head.

“Me too!” He bounces on the balls of his feet a couple more times before making up his mind to test his luck and lean in a bit. “Do you mind if I…” He doesn’t finish his thought, instead just taking the risk and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before backing away sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” You promise and you see the nervous tension leave his shoulders. After a slightly awkward goodbye, Atsumu heads back to his own dorm and you hurry to finish getting ready for bed. Just as you get tucked under your covers and turn out the light, your phone chimes with a message from Atsumu to wish you goodnight. You text him back right away, wondering if you’d even be able to sleep with the way your mind and body buzzed from the unexpected visit. Slowly though, the adrenaline died down and you manage to drift off to sleep, the feeling of Atsumu’s feather light kiss still lingering on your cheek.

#Atsumu Miya x Reader #Atsumu X reader #Haikyuu X Reader #Hq x reader #Atsumu Miya #Haikyuu #Collab #Cindy's Writing

[waveypedia]

New Days

Rymin Week Day 4: Off the Train

1 2 5 6 7

Ao3

~

Contrary to popular belief (his parents), Min-Gi is not a morning person.

He’d trained himself into getting up and going to bed early, first at his parents’ insistence, then as a necessary skill for all the classes he was taking in high school (Gotta make that college application shine!). Yet given the choice, he would happily stay up all night and wake up extremely late.

On the train, all of Min’s obligations and restrictions suddenly vanished. Although his schedule was primarily dictated by not dying, which led him to sleep and wake up at odd hours (and telling time on the train is a complicated task anyways), he started sleeping in later and later. Now that he’s off the train, and most of his days consist of driving, songwriting, and practicing, he’s free to wake up as late as he wishes.

It’s why he finds himself slowly slipping into the world of wakefulness one unassuming Thursday morning. The van is already moving, as per usual - Ryan doesn’t mind the quiet mornings as Min sleeps away. Golden rays of sunlight peak through the van’s windows.

In the driver’s seat, Ryan is spotlighted in one. The sun’s brilliant hues turn his brown hair into shades of tree bark and make his soft skin glow. He’s beautiful.

Ryan is a morning person, in contrast to Min, but he would very much like to be a night person. They’ve spent ages lamenting the fateful injustice. Unlike Min, who used to force himself to go to bed early even if it meant lying awake in the dark for hours, Ryan chooses to just run on little sleep. He’d go out and party and/or perform all night, crash for a few hours, and wake up at his usual time.

He’s been getting better, though. Just like Min, they’ve both been making bounds of progress now that they’re off the train and free from restrictions. Every time Ryan goes to bed at a decent hour, it eases the worry in Min’s heart.

They’re both doing so much better now. Min never thought he’d be grateful for getting spontaneously kidnapped by a magical death train, but he and Ryan are so much happier now than they’d ever thought they’d be.

Ryan glances over, smiling fondly. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

It’s a running joke between them, one that started way back on the train with Kez, but Min’s heart never fails to make a little jump whenever Ryan calls him beauty.

“Morning,” Min replies, stretching. He digs around in a bag at his feet. “Did you move the songbook?”

“Yeah, I was working on it earlier,” Ryan says. He jerks a thumb behind him without taking his eyes off the road. “I left some new lyrics and chords for you to look over.”

Min smiles. “Thanks.” Following Ryan’s directions, he grabs the songbook, a blue pencil, and his coveted mini-synth. Items in hand, he carefully slips into the passenger’s seat and buckles up.

Ryan shoots him a quick grin and turns his music off so Min can write.

For the next few hours, they stay as they are - Ryan keeps them on track to their next gig, while Min tackles the lines Ryan wrote earlier. It was a bit of a learning curve, figuring out how to write songs together, when they first started out. Ryan only knew chords and tablature, while Min only knew notated music from his viola days. Now, though, a couple months into their journey, they’ve worked out a good system. Whoever comes up with lyrics or a melody first (usually lyrics, and usually Ryan) will pen it along with any chords or notes they can think of. The other will look it over, edit it, and add the missing element. It usually makes for a solid first draft.

Min twirls the pencil in his hand. Blue. His favorite color. Ryan usually writes in a red pencil, from a set of colored pencils he stole from his younger brother before leaving. It makes contributions easy to distinguish when writing and editing.

Every so often, while Min looks over Ryan’s ideas, he’ll pull out his mini-synth and tap out a melody. Both of them find it easier to create melodies with an instrument in hand. Min may not play his mini-synth on stage like Ryan plays his guitar, but it still makes him happy to play it regularly. Not as a toy, not as something he has to hide from his boss and his parents, but as a genuine instrument.

As he writes and plays, Ryan listens. He keeps his attention on the road and map, but chimes in every so often with little affirmations and suggestions.

“Is that a D?” Ryan muses. “Under a G?”

Min thumbs the corner of the page. “Yeah, I think it sounds cool. Thoughts?”

Ryan graces him with a patented Ryan Akagi grin, all teeth. “I like it! I’ll look it over when you drive.” Ryan squeezes his fists on the steering wheel. “I’m really glad we’re working together, Min. This is way better than anything I’ve written solo.”

Min ducks his head, cheeks flushing. “Oh- Uh- I like writing with you too,” he replies. “

--

In the afternoon, they pull over and Min takes the wheel. Sometimes at this time they stop for food - they’ve made it their mission to catalogue all the small restaurants across Canada and America on the way to New York for future reference. But today Ryan got a late start on driving because he was songwriting (“Inspiration strikes when it strikes, Min! Who am I to deny my muses?” Never mind that Ryan is uncharacteristically close-lipped about what/who said muses even are), so they eat separately in the car. They step out to stretch for a minute, and Min hands over the songbook and food. Then they’re off again.

Ryan makes a few more edits with his red pencil, but they always collaborate on the second pass. At both of their insistence, they have to wait until one of them isn’t driving to truly discuss it. Min thought he might have to put his foot down on this, but Ryan was insistent - he’s an experienced driver and knows far to well just how dangerous and difficult driving is.

The afternoon passes without much fanfare. Min keeps his eyes on the road while Ryan edits and eventually breaks out his guitar. The highway is long, flat, and unassuming. Few other cars pass them.

It’s for that exact reason Ryan gets an idea that is both brilliant and stupid.

“Min. Min. Minminminminminmi-”

“What.” A feeling of dread washes over Min before the words are even out of Ryan’s mouth.

Ryan grins toothily at him. “I’m gonna stick my head out the window.”

Min chokes on air., surprised. “Wh- Ryan. Why would you want to do that? Didn’t you have enough thrills on the death train?”

“Eh,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’ve always wanted to do it, but i couldn’t exactly do it while driving when I was touring alone. Besides, my parents would never let me.”

“For good reason,” Min grumbles, but in his gut he knows Ryan’s already won.

Ryan frowns at him. “Look, I’m not stupid. I’ll be careful. I won’t lean so far out of the car that I’ll fall. I’ll come back in if there are more cars or it looks like I might hit something.”

“Or if we start turning,” Min warns.

Ryan’s replying smile is blinding. “Does that mean it’s a yes from you?”

Min rolls his eyes. “Just try not to die. If I show up to the venue with only half the band, the manager won’t be happy with me.”

“Yes!” Ryan punches his fist in the air and dances triumphantly - or, he dances as much as one can while sitting in the seat of a moving van.

Ryan rolls down the window and sticks his head out. He’s crouching on the seat, half-standing, in order to fully fit through the window. His upper body is out of the car. His arms wave and flail, making his jacket sleeves flutter even more violently in the wind.

Min starts to shout a warning, to yell about safety precautions, to give into the panic in his heart and yell get down, but the words die in his throat the minute he lays eyes on Ryan’s face.

Ryan is joyful. Euphoric. Happy. He has always been a smiley person, but times where he is truly, unadulteredly happy are rarer than you’d think. Here, riding half-outside of the van while they drive to their fame and dreams, he seems truly free.

Min smiles. God, he loves that man.

Ryan glances back, the light reflecting off his glasses, and flashes Min an adrenaline-fueled grin and a shaky thumbs up. His ankles wobble a bit. Before Min realizes what he’s doing, he reaches out and grabs Ryan for support.

Ryan’s mouth drops open in a small ‘o’. Min moves to take his hand back, but before he can, Ryan twists and reaches back inside the car to grab Min’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

Min freezes.

Ryan is smiling, more bashful and careful now than before. He’s still happy, but… nervous? Anxious? 

Min’s heart flutters. He manages to smile back.

“I got you,” he says, although it comes out as a whisper.

“O-oh,” Ryan whispers. His eyes are wide and soft. “I… thank you, Min.”

Min ducks his head awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. It’s not awkward, but it’s not as comfortable and natural as it usually would be.

Something has changed.

Min grips the wheel tighter and stares down the road, for a lack of real target. If looks could kill, the road would be up in flames. 

It’s… confusing. He’s not sure why a change in their dynamic is so upsetting and off-putting. He and Ryan have gone through so many changes over the years, and they’ve always been able to come back to themselves in the end.

Besides, it’s not like they had an argument. Or even a misunderstanding. All they did was hold onto each other to keep balance. Why does this feel so monumental?

Min chances a glance away from the road to look at Ryan. He’s curled up in the passenger seat (because Ryan seems incapable of sitting normally when he’s not driving) with his guitar. The songbook, flipped open to their latest draft, is balanced precariously on Ryan’s knee. He’s bent over to read it accurately, which must be difficult, especially in the dim light. But he seems to be managing. He’s humming softly to himself, almost too quiet for Min to catch it. As he’s focused on the road (no matter how much he wants to listen to Ryan’s ethereal yet natural and homey singing) the melody floats in and out of focus. Ryan is also plucking at his guitar, playing mostly individual notes instead of chords. It’s calming and comforting, not to mention beautiful. If Min weren’t driving, he might just fall right asleep. Even though he’s the one playing, Ryan seems drowsy as well, judging by the way he’s leaning against the back of the seat.

As they draw closer to their destination, Ryan seems to consciously shake himself into wakefulness. He sits up and puts the songbook away to focus fully on his guitar. As Min pulls off the highway and navigates the city streets, Ryan tunes his guitar and warms up. 

They run through a couple vocal exercises together, practicing harmonies and lyrics as well as warm-ups. Min is a bit shaky since he’s focused on the road, but he and Ryan know their songs by heart, and the warm-up does the job. He’s still a bit jittery as he pulls into the venue parking lot, but that’s normal. He hasn’t quite shaken his stage fright yet, but as long as he has Ryan at his side, he’s able to perform. More than that, he has fun performing.

Besides, Ryan confided in him a while back, before their first real show. “You’re not the only one with stage fright, Min,” he’d confessed. “Yeah, I love it, and the adrenaline basically cancels out the fear, but it’s still there. You just have to go for it.”

Min had felt comforted enough to perform with that, with the admission that even the seemingly-fearless Ryan Akagi, who’d always seemed more at home on a stage than at his actual home got stage fright. But then Ryan had hesitated, glanced down, and taken Min’s hand. Min’s heart had nearly stuttered to a stop in his chest. He almost missed what Ryan said next.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if you get stage fright or not,” Ryan had said cheerfully, too cheerfully, although Min barely noticed. “All that really matters is if you enjoy what you’re doing. It’s more admirable to conquer your fear in order to chase your dreams than to not have fear.”

Min had smiled back, shaky but euphoric. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, not unlike how he felt onstage. “That’s very profound.”

Ryan had laughed and squeezed his hand. “Eh, I have a lot of experience. Listen to me, I’m the master!”

The mood subtly shifted with the joke, and suddenly they were laughing and Ryan let go of his hand and they were pushing the synthesizer on stage and it was all a blur from there until the curtain went down and Ryan was squealing and hugging him and picking him up and screaming We did it! You did it!

What a first show.

Min shakes himself back to reality and pulls into the venue parking lot. Ryan jumps out of the van before Min is fully parked, despite Min’s loud protests. He rolls his eyes and lets Ryan run ahead anyway.

While Ryan gets checked in with the manager, Min parks and unloads Barold and the rest of their equipment (which is pretty much just Barold now, since Ryan took his guitar with him in his haste). He heads inside, he and Ryan set up, and then they’re standing onstage behind a lowered curtain, waiting in darkness and silence for their cue.

Suddenly, Ryan turns around and flashes Min a thumbs-up and a bright smile. It’s more jerky and jittery than usual, probably because of the nerves and adrenaline. He seems a little more on edge today, though. 

“We’re gonna do great!” Ryan promises, grinning.

Min smiles back. “We’re gonna do rad,” he replies. The tension between them dissipates, and the curtain goes up. Ryan turns toward the crowd, beaming his particular I’m-on-stage-but-I’m-really-enjoying-myself smile, and greets them. The crowd goes wild.

Energy floods Min’s body, and he grins back at the crowd. Ryan counts them off, and they burst into their opening number with the power and passion it requires. The crowd screams, but Min can barely hear them over the music and Ryan’s voice.

He’s living. Far more than he ever was before.

They both are.

--

After the show is a blur of chatting with audience members, grabbing something to eat, and scheduling another show. By the time they head to the hotel, Min’s exhausted. But he dutifully puts all the equipment in their hotel room and locks up the van before he collapses into bed.

Ryan is already in their room when Min comes in. He’s sitting on the bed, facing away from the door, with his hands on his lap. Most striking is the absence of his guitar. Ryan may have been playing all day, but it’s rare for him to be without his instrument and yet so still like this.

Ryan, to his core, is always moving. Even when he’s not physically moving, he’s always singing, humming, thinking. Yet now, he sits in absolute stillness.

“Ryan?” Min whispers. His voice is quieter than he intended, but Ryan jumps at it all the same.

When he turns, he’s smiling disarmingly, but it’s too wide and shaky to be natural. Ryan may have convinced someone else with that expression, but Min knows him too well to be fooled.

Min strides into the room with three short steps, locking the door behind him. He stops in front of Ryan, so close their knees are almost brushing. Ryan blushes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I- Nothing.” Ryan won’t meet his gaze.

Min scowls. “Come on, Ryan. Aren’t we past this? Didn’t the train teach us not to do all this not-talking crap?”

Ryan flinches. “I- Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?” Min finally moves, stepping around Ryan to sit on the bed beside him. He takes care to keep his voice soft and gentle. He doesn’t want to scare Ryan again. Whatever’s going on seems to have him skittish all of a sudden.

Ryan bites his lip. “Min, I… you know I care about you, right?”

Min blinks, surprised. “Of course I do.” Hesitantly, he reaches out to take Ryan’s hand, running his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles. “I care about you too.”

Ryan blushes. His cheeks are nearly scarlet right now. Min’s a bit too tired to unpack that all on his own right now, but he knows it means something. It spurs him on, gives him a burst of courage and energy in the adrenaline crash phase after a show. “I’m glad we’re-” He’s about to say friends, but the word dies on his lips. Suddenly, it feels all wrong, but he can’t put his finger on why.

Slowly, Ryan turns to face him. His eyes are wide and anxious, his lips slightly parted, but there’s a set determination in him that shows in his face. He reaches out to take Min’s other hand, and… leans in closer.

Min finds himself leaning in simultaneously. Soon they’re close enough Min can feel Ryan’s breath on his lips. It’s hot in more ways than one.

Oh. Oh.

So that’s why today, Ryan’s hand on his wrist, the trusting and yet shocked expression of his, felt so weird and so right at the same time.

Their eyes meet. A silent exchange passes between them.

Do you want to do this?

Yes. Do you?

Yes.

If asked after, Min couldn’t say if he initiated it or if Ryan did.

All he knows is the gap between them is now nonexistent, and Ryan’s lips are on his, and suddenly it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The kiss is slow. Hesitant. Exploring new territory, figuring out boundaries. But it’s not awkward.

No, they are Ryan and Min, Min and Ryan, Chicken Choice Judy, and they have come much too far to be awkward. They’ve been building towards this moment since they first met, even if they didn’t know it.

It feels like a found puzzle piece of himself Min didn’t even realize he was missing. Now, he is complete. Now, they are complete.

Now, they are both truly living their lives to the fullest.

~

this fic is just: *headcanon* *headcanon* *headcanon* *hea-

oh man i almost didn't finish this one in time. it's still the 12th here, though (by a couple hours!), so i'm good! it's hard to write a full one-shot every day, but i've already come farther than i thought i would! i told myself i would finish this today, and i did! i also told myself i would finish the week and my remaining prompts, and i will. :)

title is from new days by dreamcatcher. that's the second time i've used it as a title but the last one was for a zine fic so i can get away with using it here, lol. i really love that song, so that's why. the lyrics translation are absolutely nothing like this, but for some reason it gives off road trip vibes (at least to me), so it works really well for this particular piece!

okay confession time: i think this is the first kiss scene i've ever written lol. i was writing it and i was like "hey wait a minute i have no clue what i'm doing have i done this before??? i don't think so???" it didn't help that i didn't intend to write a kiss scene, but i got to the place where i'd intended to end it and it felt like the natural progression. i'm gonna go research good kiss writing after this. i would've done it while i was writing, but i didn't want to post this any later than i had to

i have a bunch of infinity train snippets and wips i wrote right after book 4 aired and my interest in the show peaked, and i really thought i had something that would fit well for off the train but i guess i didn't?? maybe i just daydreamed it and never actually penned it skfhksl. so i was kind of flying by the seat of my pants for this one. i think it's my favorite of rymin week so far though! it was also the most fun to write. i really love introspective pieces. ryan and min off the train, after their relationship is repaired, when they're in a much better place and truly happy with each other, is also my favorite time in their lives to explore. they're so much happier and healthier, and they can truly start to explore themselves and realize their dreams.

if you have a piano or something on hand you should play the d and g notes together. they sound heavenly. in choir two years ago we had that chord and i have never forgotten it because i love it so much.

if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a reblog/like/comment if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

#infinity train #rymin #rymin week 2021 #rymin week #ryminweek2021 #ryan akagi #min-gi park #min gi park #mingi park #wavey writes #infinity train fanfiction #infinity train ryan #infinity train rymin #infinity train min #infinity train min-gi #infinity train mingi #infinity train min gi #ryan infinity train #min infinity train #min-gi infinity train #min gi infinity train #ryan x min

[trisaran-adventures]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Dorian/Aran/Tristan

Rating: E

Summary:

Having recently moved from Minrathous to Ostwick to advance his academic career, Dorian finds himself with too much work and, sadly, very little play. Life in a new city can be terribly lonely, and it's not long before he starts feeling... restless.

Tristan and Aran, on the other hand, are university juniors on an exciting journey of self-discovery, and a newly-found interest in vlogging and live-streams. The paths of the three men cross in a way that none of them expects- and everything changes.

A Kinktober prompt that took on a life of its own, this fic is collaboratively written by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan ! Check the Ao3 link below for full list of tags :)

Chapter 6: Whiskey and Fire

Dorian 

He folded his hands around the glass of whiskey, paging through an abominably written draft on proposed alterations to the arcane permit legislations of Orlais. A headache was already beginning to brew behind his eyes and it was only- He checked his pocket watch. Six in the afternoon. Where had the day gone?

He had wanted to stay busy, of course. Having work to do meant less hours sitting alone in his new flat, wishing he were in the laboratory. But there were hours he was allowed to be there; hours that had to be prescheduled and monitored by the local force of Templars ‘just in case’. 

He took a long slow sip from the glass. So many things were different here. Some worse, many better. The whiskey was among the better. The wine made him want to cry. He drank. 

The knock on the door roused him and his red pen from the fifteenth page of the draft. “Hm?”

The door cracked open, and a blonde head peeked through the opening. "Dorian?" he asked softly, as if afraid to startle him. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

“Inter-“ Achilles. Why was- No. Name. Tristan. Tristan Trevelyan. Why- Dorian blinked. “We have a meeting.” He sat back, nudging his glass away and shuffling the hellscape of poorly strewn together thoughts into a pile. “I apologize. I didn’t write it down. Come in. Come in.”

"Oh." Tristan shifted awkwardly at the threshold of the office for a long moment. "I could come back, if you're busy. I—" He bit his lip, flushing ever so slightly. “You look as if you have a lot on your plate already.”

“In or out, Trevelyan.” Dorian set the stack aside and leaned forward, steepling his fingers on his desk. “Be decisive.”

Tristan frowned. "I am decisive," he said indignantly. "I was just trying to be polite. At least I bothered to—" He snapped his mouth shut, a sharp hum in the back of his throat. He took a step into the room and closed the door behind him, then stood there, clutching the stack of papers he held in his arms and gazing heatedly at Dorian. "Well, here I am. Where do you want me?"

“Where do you want to be?” A quick flicker of amusement, sharp, warmed him from the inside out. All that heat. He’d seen a version of it flash before in the coffee shop. And in the vids- He sought guidance, but also seemed to balk at being told what to do, even when he invited the control. 

Tristan's eyes narrowed, momentarily zooming into the smile on Dorian's lips. He glanced around the room, settling on the leather couch. "Here's fine, I suppose," he said, still a little bit miffed, and strode towards the seat. He arranged his papers on the table and drew his laptop from his bag. "Shall I start without you?" he asked, avoiding Dorian's gaze. 

“Have you a draft yet for me to peruse?” Dorian wondered, rising from his chair to pad towards him. He paused at the edge of the rug, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Did you have a chance to send your inquiries to the Orlesian database?”

"I did," Tristan nodded, sifting through his notes. "They pointed me to some academic articles, which I've printed out... right here." He produced a few pages from the stack, filled with scribbled notes and highlighted parts in various bright colours. "And I've also made decent progress on the analysis of the legislation that was passed in 15:29, and I wanted your opinion on what I've done so far. I sent you the first draft via email, not sure if you've read it," he said, somewhat pointedly, "but I've already started on the second draft, so I could just send you the updated version once I'm done." He eyed Dorian, a bit of tension in his gaze, before he brought it back down onto his papers. "I know you're busy," he said, low and firm. "Juggling your own research alongside Vivienne's advisees. I won't take up more of your time than is required." 

“I like being busy.” Dorian collected the notes from him, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa as he glanced over it. “I did not see your draft. I apologize. The university still hasn’t seen fit to complete my registration on that front, which isn’t at all your concern. I’ll get to it as soon as- oh, well, Harrison is an idiot, you can ignore all of those.” He drew his pen from his vest pocket and struck out a few articles, scrawling in the original articles that hadn’t been misshapen by bias. “These will serve you better.” He scanned the notes. Well-considered. Insightful, even. “You managed to rouse quite a collection in a short amount of time.”

Tristan straightened in his seat, a spot of colour rising his cheeks. "Thank you," he said, serious and business-like. A thread of tension still lingered from before, but when he regarded Dorian his eyes were calm, almost warm. "I take this research very seriously. I believe it's important that people talk more about these things, about how differently mages across countries are being treated after the treaties were signed. I shouldn't have to call a dozen consulates and be passed back and forth between offices to get those numbers. It's almost as if they're making it harder for people to gain access to the facts, it's all hear-say." He frowned, biting the inside of his lip. "Anyway. Thank you. I'm glad to hear I'm going in the right direction."

“Mmhmm.” Dorian nodded towards his laptop. “May I?”

"Uh…" Tristan gazed at him quizzically. "Sure. Go ahead." 

Read the rest on AO3!

#dorian pavus #dragon age #tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #dorian x trevelyan #dragon age fanfiction #modern au #college au #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes #dorian x aran x tristan

[tendertenebrosity]

Illiam and Helis on the road! Close sequel to here and here.  Masterpost for these characters is here. Mostly just some conversation and worldbuilding today; stay tuned for part 2!

Taglist:  @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi   @thesleepysnapdragon @whump-cravings

Helis knew, from the conversations they had overheard at Illiam’s heel, that today they would pass into the south of Rosdan, the part the Toraldan army hadn’t taken yet. If they hadn’t, they probably wouldn’t have been able to guess; the countryside was the same as it had been for the past few days. Heavily forested hills, a dirt road that wound side-to-side between their peaks like the track made by a snake. The ground was rocky, any snow long since trodden into black sludge peppered liberally with gravel. Helis had an impressive bruise on the underside of their foot from trying to make their way through it, and the little downy feathers on their ankles hadn’t been either white or downy in days.  

“We have quite a large ravine to cross next,”  Illiam commented. “The town is just over the bridge; we should be able to see both once we’re around this next bend in the road.”

Helis made a wordless hum of acknowledgment. They wouldn’t be stopping for the night in this town; they might pause so that people could mill about, make a mess and maybe have another urgent, terse meeting. Or they might not. Helis supposed they’d be glad for a chance to stretch their legs.

The thick pine forest on some of these hills was a lot like the country that they’d spent a few weeks camping in with Reed. Had it been this tiring, going up and down the hills? Not for Helis, but maybe for Reed it had been. He’d never complained.

“I built some bridges, you know,” Illiam remarked.  

Helis blinked, roused from their reverie. “What?”

“Bridges. You know, big structures, usually made of wood or stone, they allow you to get over bodies of water… ”

Helis hunched their shoulders. Yes, very funny. “You… built bridges? Why?” It wasn’t something they’d ever considered him doing. It seemed… beneath him, or at least that he ought to think it was beneath him. They didn’t remember him ever showing the slightest interest in that kind of thing before.

“It’s the kind of thing I’ve been working on, the last few years,” Illiam explained. “Not just bridges, but… large engineering work. Repairing dams, roads. You usually do that with magic in Crestmead, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Helis said. Their friend Diamand had taken a job in that direction; another scholarship student, like them, he’d chosen to go into government service in construction. “It’s usually done with teams of mages…”

“It’s not been used much here,” Illiam said. “Most things like that in the North are built the old-fashioned way. Bricks and mortar and a lot of peasants with shovels. It can be difficult and dangerous work, not to mention slow. I had seen a lot of… interesting things done in the South, and I wanted to try and replicate them. Not just structures, either - I still wonder if I could get some of your irrigation and wind shelter techniques to work with our farms.” He paused. “You came from a farm, didn’t you?”

“Yeees…” Helis wasn’t sure whether to be surprised he remembered, or brace themself for him to say something derogatory. “We didn’t use any magic, though. I think you’re talking about bigger places than ours…”

He barely seemed to be listening. “I imagine the climate to the south is better, so you probably didn’t need much help. The land to the west of our holdings is harsh, and crop failures are common. It would make a big difference if I could increase yield even a little bit.” He sighed. “Bridges proved easier, at least to start with. Of course, I was somewhat hampered by the fact that, as you say, I don’t have a trained team. I only have myself. So a lot of the techniques needed… adjusting.”

Despite themselves, Helis found themself a little interested. “That’s a bit more than just an ‘adjustment’,” they said. “You’re trying to do the work of, what - four to six people by yourself?”

“Mm,” he said, dismissive.

“That sounds… dangerous,” Helis said. They’d had to design the kind of spells Illiam was talking about as part of their course; they couldn’t imagine trying to handle that much magic, in that many different moving parts, at once. It was overambitious to the point of being irresponsible.

Then again, in light of his current project, they shouldn’t be surprised.

“Oh, maybe if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Illiam said, airily. They could practically picture the smug tilt of his chin as he said it. “I had it down pretty well by the third attempt. Besides, it was unavoidable. Even if I’d managed to get four or five mages together, there’s no guarantee they’d have been able to work together in that way. It’s not a common skill here.”

Helis’ brow wrinkled. “But… I’ve seen other mages here, in the army ranks.” Mostly men, a scattering of women, their uniform marked out with a red scarf or sash or hat. The common soldiers deferred to them, but nowhere near as much as they did to Illiam. Helis had seem them performing heat spells, wind spells, stick-fast spells - the kinds of minor workings any large group of people needed.  Are they mages or not? they wanted to ask. Why ‘if’ you get four or five people? Aren’t they trained properly?

He hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, but the… culture, I suppose you’d say… amongst mages is different here. Much less collaborative. Much less standardised. A Northern sorceror works alone, or maybe with an apprentice or two if they’re inclined to that sort of thing.”

“Oh.”

“There’s nothing like the Academy here, or even the sort of smaller schools that teach people to read and write in Crestmead,” Illiam explained. “I learned my Northern magic from my master, Karlin, who learned it from his, and so on. I started when I was nine - that’s pretty normal. He didn’t have a second apprentice while teaching me, but I understand he often did. Some masters can get a bit… stingy, paranoid. They don’t like to share their knowledge too freely. Karlin was never like that.”

“Oh. You… always did seem like you knew a bit already, in the first semester,” Helis admitted.

Illiam was silent, just a beat longer than usual. “You could say that,” he said. “You know, I - ”

He cut himself off - the hands that had been fairly slack on the reins in front of Helis were suddenly moving, pulling the horse up to a sudden stop.

They had just rounded the curve of the hillside. As Illiam had said, they could look down and see the bridge - miles ahead of them yet, a squat and sturdy structure made from the same grey stone as the cliffs it straddled. The riverbed was a long way down.

They couldn’t see much of the town, though, because it and the forest to the east were obscured by a thick dark plume of smoke.

The soldiers in front of them were clogging the road, the whole unit that had been ahead of Illiam’s horse, pulled to an unplanned halt. Raised voices and curses reached Helis’ ears; people were pointing at the smoke, barking orders, shoving the people ahead or behind them.

“This town was supposed to be secured!” someone was insisting, harsh and strident. “Lord Garnier sent - ”

As the army milled, disorganised, there was a sharp whistle, thinned out by distance and followed by a crack. The light that flashed in the forest beyond the town was tinged pale blue, obviously magical in origin. People in the army flinched and swore as more clouds of dust and smoke rose up. As they watched, aghast, a wedge of stone split away from the cliff face and tumbled down into the ravine with a crash.

Illiam hissed wordlessly under his breath, and tapped Helis - more of a shove, really - on the shoulder.

"You’re getting off,” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“Get off the horse, lackwit, move!”

Helis let go of their grip on the saddle and drew their knees up slightly, uncertain of what to do next. Illiam lifted them unceremoniously around the waist, and they swung their leg awkwardly over the horse’s neck. They made it to the ground in an awkward, flapping fall, their legs nearly giving way under them.

The horse stamped and sidled back and forth, rolling one dark eye as Helis stumbled back. Illiam gathered up his reins. He didn’t even look down at Helis.

“Go back and wait with the rest of the camp followers,” he said, his voice raised over the commotion. “Do not come and find me. Do not cause problems.”

He kicked the horse into motion. Helis shielded their eyes from the dirt he threw up; they could hear him yelling something at the soldiers down the slope. By the time they had collected themself, the crowd of soldiers had parted to allow Illiam and his horse to canter down the hill in the direction of the smoking town.

“Well, now what?” Helis asked aloud, to nobody in particular. They watched the figure of Illiam and his horse, dramatic black cloak flapping, until it was out of sight. Helis didn’t know much about war magic. But they had a hazy, uneasy idea how much damage a single magic-user could wreak against an undefended force. Was he going to fight? Or did he think the battle needed him in command? It still seemed unbelievable to Helis, that men twice their age, generals and leaders, actually took orders from Illiam, who wasn’t any older than Helis themself.

The crowd of soldiers was forming up into some kind of order in his wake, the person who’d been yelling about Lord Garnier unloading a series of profanities and insults on everybody in earshot.

The wagons and the rest of the army had been following Illiam and the advance party, much slower on the hilly ground. Helis had no idea how far away they might be.

They sighed, picked a rock out from between their toes, and set off back the way they’d come.

#Illiam #Helis #war and military stuff #riding double #not much to tag today or maybe my brain just isn't working that well haha #winged OC #environmental whump

[spritewrites]

time travel doesn’t change everything

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: the Hargreeves siblings

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hi everybody! This is a collaborative fic (wow!) that @ticklishhargreeves and I have been working on for a while, based on an idea that we came up with together about three weeks ago. We wanted to incorporate a bunch of the headcanons we’ve come up with recently into a fic. We hope you enjoy!!

Allison’s room could best be described as a bit of a time capsule; posters from the beginning and middle of her career, drawings that she’d made and been gifted as a child, and family photos in the form of newspaper clippings. Going through the drawers and boxes under her bed provided nearly endless entertainment. A small gasp escaped from her grin when she pulled out one specific piece of paper that she’d forgotten about — a somewhat poorly drawn chart that depicted each of the Hargreeves siblings’ most ticklish spots. The tickle fights they’d had as children were sparse, considering they only really had free time for about an hour a week, but damn, were they competitive. This was the cheat sheet that she’d made to always get the upper hand. 

The colored pencil had smudged a bit, but Allison could still make out the faint markings of each of her brothers’ names. She smiled to herself, leaning back on a stack of books to read the chart. They’d been so young then, but she could still hear their laughter echoing down the mansion hallways, as clear as anything. She let out a small laugh at a note in the margin: Ask Mom for acrylic nails before next week.

“Everything okay?” Luther was leaning against her door frame, just a bit bigger than when they were kids, but still with that same kind smile. She smiled back.

“Just reminiscing. Check this out!” She held up the faded piece of paper for him to read.

“No way!” the large figure exclaimed, gently taking the chart from Allison’s hand and sitting on the side of her bed to look at it. “This is from all our —” 

“Tickle fights,” Allison interrupted with a laugh, “yeah. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” an awkward chuckle from Luther masked the slight nervousness he felt reading his name accompanied by the bullet-pointed notes: squeeze his calves, scribbles under toes, tops of feet are weirdly ticklish??, kicks a lot. “God, I haven’t been tickled in… years, probably.”

“You were so cute,” Allison giggled, and Luther wasn’t entirely sure that he liked the look she was giving him. “I wonder if this is still accurate.”

Luther cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, um, no way to know for sure, so-”

She had tackled him to the bed before he even knew what was happening. “Only one way to find out.”

She sat across his knees - “You kick, remember?” - and gave one of his calves a squeeze. Luther bolted upright, gasping.

“Um, I think there’s another way to find out! See, I could just tell you-”

“No,” Allison smiled, squeezing again and enjoying the desperate noise her brother made. “I’ve gotta test it to know for sure.”

He got as far as “Wait, Allison, please-” before he was choking back giggles, trying to worm his way out of Allison’s hold as her long nails skated over his ankles. She grinned.

“Okay, so squeezing your legs still definitely works. How about your feet?”

“No!” Luther cried, burying his face in a pillow and nearly squealing as she traced gentle lines over his soles. Allison giggled at the sound, scribbling over his heels and leaning forward to keep his straining legs from kicking.

“Feet are still pretty bad too. Thank God the serum didn’t affect these, huh?” She skittered her nails around the tops of his feet, and Luther let out a screech into his pillow. It was taking all of his strength to not… well, use his strength. 

“You remember that pedicure I dragged you into, right?” she laughed at the memory, and again at Luther’s quick nod into the pillow.

The screech turned into an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp when Allison held his toes back with one hand, and skittered beneath them with the other. Finally, he’d began to laugh an endearingly childlike giggle. “AH - Allison,” he attempted to catch his breath with a forceful gasp as his massive arms squeezed the pillow to his face, and his legs shook, “Allison!”

Allison laughed at him and his sounds, almost not wanting to stop. “Alright, alright, I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.” She rolled off his legs to lay next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like your weak spots are still the same!”

Luther groaned, trying to catch his breath through the pillow (he wasn’t confident enough in the color of his face yet to look at her). “That was mean.”

“Hey, I was just consulting the chart!”

“You wrote the chart!”

“And I stand by it,” she teased, giving his leg a poke that made him twitch. She grabbed the paper and left the room, satisfied that her victim was suitably tickled out.

Luther rolled onto his back, panting. “Screw that chart.”

—

As she was leaving the room, Allison couldn’t help but notice the absence of Vanya’s name on the chart. It wasn’t a surprising fact. They never included her in anything as children, not even tickle fights. This fact still broke Allison’s heart, but of course, with the opportunity to make up for lost time, it’d be foolish not to take it… right? 

After spotting her much smaller sister reading on the couch, Allison made her way downstairs and plopped down right next to Vanya with a grin. 

Ever since their trip to the 60s, the sisters certainly developed a strong bond. Allison was, quite possibly. the one sibling that Vanya felt the most comfortable with; Klaus being a close second. Her attention drew away from the book in her hands, and towards her smiling sister. “Hey, Allison.” Vanya smiled, setting her book down, saving her place.

“Hey, um,” Allison subtly hid the chart by her other side, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Vanya, are you ticklish? By any chance?” 

“Uh,” Vanya chuckled, shifting awkwardly with a shrug, “I - I think so. I mean, sometimes Sissy would touch my neck and it would feel kinda funny. Like the back, right here?” She touched the back of her neck to show her scheming sister exactly where she was ticklish. Big mistake.

“Oh,” Allison chuckled, not expecting this to be so easy. She sneakily reached her arm around the back of the couch, “Like, right… here?” 

Vanya twitched, letting out something akin to a squeak as her shoulders jumped up beside her ears. “I think - hey!” Her sister had begun tracing wicked fingers along the crease of her neck, her nails sliding effortlessly between the wrinkles to get at the weakest points. Vanya scrunched like a turtle, reaching back to swat at the offending hands, but the light touch made her limbs turn to jelly and her effort was not very coordinated. The endless stream of bubbly giggles, however, was new. 

Allison’s face lit up. “Looks like you are ticklish.”

Understatement of the century. Vanya opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeal when Allison’s tickles wandered down from her neck and over her shoulders, sneaking pokes in under her arms. 

“Where else, I wonder…” Allison mused, and slid her hands down her sister’s sides. Vanya’s spine nearly snapped with how quickly she arched her back, letting out a gasp. “Oh, here?”

“Allison, please!”

“Please what?” She tapped a nail on the curve of Vanya’s waist, prompting a high-pitched giggle. Vanya shook her head, seemingly struck dumb by the overwhelming feeling. Another pinch to her side, and she wriggled, curling in on herself. Unfortunately, this left the back of her neck unguarded, and with a smile, Allison reached to tickle her there. 

Vanya squealed. “Please, I can’t - mercy!”

Allison laughed at her sister’s reactions, easing off to just rub her shoulders. “Okay, so, neck and sides? Those are the big ones?”

The sigh of relief that escaped Vanya was soothing. “I - I guess so. I think?”

“Well, I still have more exploring to do, but I can be merciful for now,” Allison replied with a wink. “I’ll add you to the chart.”

“Chart?”

“Yeah, see?” She pulled out the piece of paper. Vanya’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my God, this is adorable. How old were we when you made this?”

Allison smiled. “I don’t know, ten maybe? We used to have these epic battles…” She trailed off, catching her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry we didn’t - ”

Vanya held up a hand to silence her. “It’s okay. I’m included now.” She raked her gaze over the paper in her hands. “Luther was ticklish on his feet?”

Allison couldn’t stop her laugh. “Still is, I just tested it.”

“Shit, that’s goddamn… cute. All of these are so cute,” she said with a smile.

“Aren’t they?” Allison replied, snatching the paper once again with a cunning smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some notes to update and some experiments to run.”

—

It seemed like whenever she saw Klaus, he was always talking to some ghost. Usually arguing with them. Sometimes flirting, you never know. The conversation that Allison walked in on today, however, was definitely not flirting.

“Just shut up, you don’t have a goddamn clue… That’s what I said, you never fucking listen to - Allison!”

She paused in the doorframe, amused. “Am I interrupting?”

“What, this?” Klaus gestured vaguely at the armchair across from him. “Nah, nothing important. Just bonding, you know how it is.” He seemed to disconnect from Allison for a second, listening, and then shot a glare at the armchair. “Dickwad.”

Allison clapped her hand over her mouth at the insult, but not quickly enough to stop the laugh that escaped. Whoever it was, they had pissed Klaus off. “Okay, well, I was just going through some of my old stuff, and I found…” She pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper. “This.”

Klaus’ eyebrows furrowed. “Okay… What is that?”

“A chart I made when we were young, to win those fights we used to have.”

“What fights?” Before Allison could answer, her brother’s gaze flicked to the armchair and back to her. “The tickle fights? You made a… what did you say, a chart?”

She nodded. “It’s detailed.”

Klaus laughed. “So organized! Let me see -” He reached up, but she snatched it out of his grasp. 

“Nope, this is valuable information. But, I could let you see… if you participate in the experiment I’m running.”

Rolling green eyes, Klaus scoffed and lifted his arms up, a playful smile on his face as he looked away. He clearly already knew exactly what these so-called experiments were; perhaps Vanya’s laughter from downstairs was a giveaway. 

A smile played on Allison’s lips. She remembered how Klaus never really hated tickles, and acknowledged the note by his name: asks to be tickled all the time, listed alongside others such as SUPER ticklish armpits, tapped his hips once and he squeaked? maybe he’s ticklish there too? Haven’t tried yet. She laughed, launching her tickling fingers towards Klaus’ armpits, only to be stopped by him slamming his arms down at the last second.

“Sorry, sorry. Instinct,” he smiled, already giggling a bit, before lifting his arms again.

All of a sudden, his elbows shot down towards his hips as he choked on his laughter, “B-Ben! No!” Klaus collapsed to the floor within seconds, kicking his legs and screeching.

Allison smiled. Of course, only Ben could rile her brother up like that. Squinting, she smirked, noticing the placement of Klaus’ slapping hands, “Klaus? Ben’s not getting your hips, is he?” 

The silly noises he'd been making between silent laughter was accompanied by a desperate nod, messing up his long hair.

“Good!” Allison exclaimed, a bubbly tone to her voice, before lowering herself to the floor next to her flailing brother. “What a long overdue discovery.” Her pinch to his left hip felt more real than Ben’s spidery ghost tickles, and he squeaked. Her hands moved quickly, though, to lodge themselves under his arms while he was distracted.

The yelp that left Klaus’ mouth was loud enough to make Allison flinch slightly, but her hands stayed put. “Allison,” he whined, squeezing his arms to his sides as he simultaneously tried to roll away from Ben’s way-too-tangible thumbs digging into his hip bones.

She raised her eyebrows curiously as she twitched her fingers ever so slightly, relishing in the squirms and adorable gasps that followed. 

When Allison began to wiggle all ten of her fingers, plus the other ten digits, both on his worst spots, his eyes squeezed shut as his squeaks and laughs rose yet another octave. Curling in on himself, he shook his head, unable to shake either of his ruthless tickle-monster siblings.

“Tickie, tickie, tickle!” Allison cooed as she laughed along with him.

“What's wrong, Klausie? I thought you loved tickie, tickie, tickles.” Ben’s words were snide and Klaus could practically hear his stupid grin.

High-pitched giggles rolled out of his mouth as he grabbed onto a nearby throw pillow. “Stopstopstop, okay! Okay, jeez!” It was obvious that he wasn't that desperate for the tickles to stop; he really just needed a breather. Klaus threw the pillow in an attempt to hit Ben, but it just phased through him. Ben stuck his tongue out. 

“Asshole,” Klaus grumbled at his invisible brother. Allison laughed again, before leaning over to whisper something into Klaus’ ear. A noticeable smile washed over his face as he looked directly at his ghost brother, crawling towards him.

Ben's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards, falling back onto the armchair. His arms flailed, not knowing how to defend himself since it had been such a long time.  “Nonono, Klaus, what did she tell you? – EEP!” His reaction to Klaus’ quick and repetitive pokes to his stomach was immediate. 

The notes on the chart read really squeaky, ribs and stomach (but be careful!!!), starts begging after mere seconds, & very gullible, so easy to tickle. Ben had always been super easy to trick into getting tickled when they were younger; asking him to reach things in high up cabinets, challenging him to keep his arms up, and tons of tickle hugs.

He hadn’t been tickled since before he died, but it was just as unbearable as he remembered. He couldn’t hold back a squeak as Klaus prodded around the soft area just below his ribs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his blush. 

Klaus threw his head back and laughed. “Awww, I forgot that you were so sensitive, Benny! Guess now we know what’ll happen when you make fun of me, hmm?”

Ben wanted more than anything to snap back at his brother, but couldn’t possibly reply around his high-pitched giggle fit, so he settled on a squeal. “Allison! H-help!”

“She can’t hear you,” Klaus cooed, racing his fingertips up Ben’s ribs to elicit another adorable squeak, clearly amused. 

Allison laughed at the image of her brother kneeling on the floor, ruthlessly attacking absolutely nothing. “No, but I can picture it. Remember those physical exams that Grace would give us?” 

Every month, in order to keep them all in tip-top shape for missions, Grace would perform physical examinations. These exams, of course, included lots of pressing and prodding tummies with her cold robot hands, much to Diego and Ben’s dismay. Diego would often need to have a break after ten seconds, but Ben would always just giggle his little heart out, and could never sit still, try as he might.

Klaus giggled too. “Of course, dear little Benjamin could never stand those. Could you, Benerino?” Their brother merely cackled in response, batting helplessly at the tickling fingers. God, if this didn’t end soon, he was going to die again. Could ghosts die again?

“I… neeheed AIR, you asshole!”

“No you don’t,” Klaus replied simply, pinching at the skin right above his belly button. Ben shrieked, flailed, and ended up rolling off the armchair onto the ground. Klaus took it as a cue to stop and sat back, grinning at his work.

“What’s he look like?” Allison asked, not even trying to hide her sadistic smile.

Klaus grinned at the rumpled pile of ghost on the floor, who flipped him off. “Like shit.”

“Fuck off,” Ben replied, but he was smiling. Mission accomplished.

—

Diego frequently sat in his room alone, doing God knows what. The minute that Allison walked in, he was just twirling one of his knives in his hand. Turning around to look at his sister, who had been smiling at a piece of paper, his brows furrowed, “What?” 

Allison couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as she read the notes beside her stoic brother’s name: ticklish EVERYWHERE, pokes make him squirm, sometimes cries at tummy tickles, GET HIS BELLYBUTTON, & make sure he’s not holding anything. She remembered fondly how her and her brothers would always gang up on him and tickle him until he cried. Grace always had to step in to get them to stop. She cleared her throat, and looked over at him, turning the paper around to face him, “Remember this?” 

“Oh, ... yeah, from those - those fights we had when we were kids. Yeah.” Diego placed his knife down on the desk, and moved to stand up, subtly trying to escape what he feared was about to happen. 

“Hm, what kind of fights were those?”

“You - y’know. The -… the wrestling and stuff.” He silently cursed his sister for trying to make him say it; she knew that he absolutely hated the word, both hearing it and saying it… and experiencing it. Diego pretended to nonchalantly pace away in order to exit the room, only to make his way into the corner farthest from the door, where Allison was inconveniently standing. 

“I heard a rumor… that you can’t move until I start tickling you.” Allison sped up the last part of her rumor, making it so he couldn’t cover his ears as he typically used to. Walking over to him, she grinned and wiggled her fingers in the air, eyeing his torso.

A grunt left Diego’s already reluctantly smiling mouth as he attempted to tug on his legs in order to move, “Dammit! Screw you, Allison! - ACK!” His eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed at the slight giggle that he’d let out without her even touching him yet. 

“What is it, Diego? Surely, you've grown out of letting a few tickly fingers take you down?” Allison teased, poking his tummy with her two index fingers.

A snort escaped his mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggle fit that was bound to start as he doubled over. He tried to use his regained mobility to make a break for it, but it was too late. The momentum from the force he'd been using in his attempts to get away pushed him to the floor. He was absolutely cornered.

“Nonono — I-I, yes, I have grown out of it!” The way his arms were wrapped around his torso and the quick pace of his words, however, told a different story. “I’m seri - NO,” he yelped before dissolving into a squirmy puddle of silent giggles. Allison’s digits were swiftly poking and scratching at any spot they could reach.

“You’re what? Cereal? Serene? Can’t be serious; you’re giggling too much for that, silly.” Ever since they were children, Diego always seemed to bring out Allison’s most brutal teases. “It seems to me that you still might be the most ticklish one in this house, Diego! Tell me, how does it feel to have such a title?” She’d been able to latch her hands onto the sides of his stomach before wiggling her fingers into them. 

His laughter rose in volume when he opened his mouth to speak, “I-It tickles! - Shit, shit,” he squealed over Allison’s coos, “Sh-sh-shut up!” Saying the word, along with his embarrassingly childish reactions to such simple touches, was enough to redden his face. A squawk left his mouth when he felt a clawed hand digging into his lower tummy, dangerously close to his bellybutton. 

Allison stopped for a second, glancing down at both of Diego’s hands clutching onto her single hand on his stomach, and back up at her uncontrollably giggling brother. The grin on her face was the only thing that preceded her free hand flying straight towards his unguarded navel. 

Diego weakly pushed at her hands as he kicked his legs and screamed. His cackles now echoed through the whole house. Both of her hands were squaring in on his stomach and fuck, he couldn’t take it. “Allison - fuck! I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, oh my God, stop,” Diego rambled quickly between gasps of laughter, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, much to his own chagrin, and Allison’s amusement.

He was just so fun to tickle. He always had been. Of course, Allison knew he wasn’t going to die; he was just over dramatic sometimes. “What’s the magic word?”

“F-Fuck off,” he growled.

Allison mimicked a buzzer noise as she continued to tickle and poke around Diego’s hypersensitive midriff, even adding a few pokes to his thigh, and pinches to his triceps, “Wrong.” She laughed at the rather adorable image of her brother, curled up in the corner of his room, hands flailing in an attempt to get the tickles to stop, and twitching away from every little touch. He really was ticklish just about everywhere. 

“I've gotta tell Lila about this,” Allison chuckled, making a mental note. “Imagine her finding out that you're ticklish on your shoulders. And your chest? She's gonna have a field day, I know it.”

A squeal, “Noho, okay, okay, please! Pleasepleaseplease, fuck,” he rolled over, yelling when the tickles didn’t stop, “Fucking please, Allison! Pleehease.”

“All right, you big baby!” She decided to finally let up, chuckling at the residual giggles that escaped Diego’s mouth. 

He clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Christ, I fucking… forgot what that felt like.” A warning look was shot towards his sister, “Don't you dare tell her.”

Allison grinned, poking him again and brightening when she was rewarded with a yelp. “I think we all did, and…” a quick spider over his tummy got him to curl up again, “I think I just might.”

—

Allison clutched the chart firmly in her fist, making her way up the many flights of stairs. Last but not least. She glanced at the notes by the scrawled out ‘Number Five:’ says he's not ticklish but we know he is, flinches when anyone touches his knees (especially the left one), and hiccups a lot after laughing really hard.

Bursting into his room, Allison, expecting him to be doing… well, whatever old man stuff he liked to do, was surprised to find her brother fast asleep in his bed. After all he’d been through, experiencing the apocalypse twice & back to back, he certainly deserved a nap or twelve. 

One thing that all of the siblings agreed on, though silently, was that Five was utterly adorable when he was asleep, and not snapping at anyone. Surely, just a smidge less adorable than when… 

A poke to the blanketed figure made his snoring breaths hitch, and then they continued as normal.

He’d napped long enough, Allison thought to herself, not knowing if he’d been sleeping for two minutes or two hours. Nothing could beat her infinite curiosity, though, about just where dear old Fivey was ticklish. It had been far too long, and she knew he was at least a little bad on his knees but there was no way that could be all. That little body definitely held tons of bottled up laughter over the years that just had to be let out.

Of course his right leg was sticking out of the mass of comforter and sheets. Of course it was. 

Allison quickly spidered her fingers right above the hem of his grey knee socks, that he even wore to bed, apparently. 

A sudden jerking motion under the covers followed as he stopped snoring.

“Fiiive,” Allison crooned in a somewhat warning tone. No answer. She pinched the sides of his knee, only to be awarded with a twitch and a “cough” that was far too loud to pass off as a cough. 

“Fuck off, Allison,” Five’s sleepy voice, muffled by the pillow, piped up.

“Okay, rude,” she replied, going in for the kill, skittering all five of her nails over his knee cap.

He internally cursed at the choking sound that escaped his throat, as he pulled his leg under the covers, in order to provide some defense. The blanket reshaped itself as he curled up, and Allison thought she heard a grumpy sigh through the fabric.

“Y’know, you might’ve spent almost 50 years without other people, but I would’ve thought that you’d remember at least some of your manners.” Another sigh. “No apology? Fine then.”

Allison sat right down on Five’s bed, and grabbed his left ankle, pulling it out from under the covers.

Before he could teleport away, he felt unbearably light and spidery tickles along the back of his knee. A screech that he couldn’t hope to suppress left his mouth, but only took seconds for the bubbly giggles, and the violent kicking, to begin. 

Allison’s steady hold on Five’s ankle turned out to be a major asset to her attack as his whole body thrashed around, tangling himself in his blanket and sheets. She couldn't help but flinch at the frantic movements and his other foot weakly pushing at her hip.

“Good to see little Five still has those tickly, tickly knees!” 

“Allison! Fucking,” he squeaked, unable to hold back the helpless laughter, “Fuck you! I’m gonna - ACK,” another giggle. “Dammit! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The giggles laced with threatening screams were delightfully familiar. “Sure you will, Giggles,” she teased, prodding and squeezing around his entire knee, adding some occasional rib tickles into the mix to make him twitch. 

Five’s hands flickered blue, but there was no way he could teleport with how unfocused he was. He felt like he was going crazy. It had been ages since he'd laughed so freely, let alone been tickled; certainly since before he left. The sensation, so completely disarming while also frustratingly familiar, overwhelmed him.

“Fuck you, I swear - shit! Oh my fucking g- Allison!”

“Yes?” She stuck her tongue out in concentration, digging into the spot just above his kneecap that made him scream. 

Five was in hell. His hands were still glowing, but never enough to do anything goddamn useful. He could feel his leg twitching, trying to kick, but Allison was merciless, and she had a lot more practice tickling his thirteen-year-old body than he had fighting off her adult reflexes. The giggles pouring out of his mouth were starting to grow hoarse, though, and he was pretty sure that if this kept up much longer, he’d actually go crazy.

“F-fine!”

“What was that?”

“I said - ” The tickling stopped, but his eyes locked on where Allison’s lethal nails were still hovering over his ribs. Flushed, he choked back a giggle. “I said fine, you fucking - ”

“Fine what?” Allison aimed a poke at the space between two ribs and he jerked.

“Fine, I’m sorry!” The hands withdrew, and Five curled into himself, breathing heavily through the last remaining chuckles. Allison blew on two fingertips like a gun, and dodged the smack that Five sent her way. 

“Fuck off. Hic.”

Allison’s eyes lit up. “There they are!”

“Huh? What are you - hic - talking about?” Five grumbled, pulling his knees into his chest and sucking in a big breath to try to stop the hiccups.

She grinned, pulling out the chart, and resisting the urge to reach out and poke his puffed cheeks. “I took notes.”

Five’s eyes widened, and he let out his breath, looking vaguely… impressed. “Holy shit. You’re thorough.” His eyes scanned over her scribbled words. “Diego? Really?”

Allison chuckled. “Really. I’m surprised you forgot, he’s the worst of all of us. Even worse than you.”

Five’s nose wrinkled, and he let out a childish snort. “Serves him right.”

“Oh, shut up, you ticklish little son of a bitch.” Diego muttered from the doorway... alongside Klaus, Vanya, and Luther.

Five spun and internally cursed at himself at the blush growing on his face, wondering how long the rest of his siblings had been there watching him get absolutely wrecked.

“I know you are but what am I,” he snapped back at his bigger but younger brother, who’d lunged towards him, ready for a battle.

Diego was blocked by Allison though, and he stopped, knowing not to cross her while she was in the terrifying mood she’d been in all day.

“Guys, enough. Can’t we have just one fun day without you at each other’s throats?”

“Y’know what, Allison, I know I didn’t get a very close look but…” Klaus clicked his tongue as his strong brows furrowed, “I don’t think I saw your name on that little chart.” He made his way over to his other siblings with an unmistakable glint in his eye and grabbed the chart from his sister’s hand. 

Allison always did have the upper hand in all their tickle fights, and now they all knew why.

“W-well, that’s because I made it.” The look that her family exchanged did not go unnoticed, and she stepped backwards, ending up stumbling onto Five’s bed. “Hey, hey guys, wait - ”

The chart was updated that day; Vanya’s handwriting scrawled next to Allison’s name, alongside cackly laughter, super ticklish neck and armpits!!!, accidentally kicked Luther in the head, & best sister ever.

#umbrella academy #tua #tickle fic #tickling #ticklishhargreeves #my fics #ticklish!luther #ticklish!diego #ticklish!allison #ticklish!klaus #ticklish!five #ticklish!ben #ticklish!vanya

[thewayshedreamed]

Secrets Don’t Make Friends— Feysand AU

Prompt submission by Nonnie— Reverse fake dating au where everyone thinks you’re dating and you’re keeping it a secret, but you’re not.

Thank you to whoever sent this one in! I had an idea for Nessian, so I may post that one as well if y’all are interested! 

——————————————————————————

It was another beautiful day in Velaris, and Feyre couldn't seem to focus on her newest project assignment for anything. She found herself gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the Sidra's soothing flow and mentally mixing her various paints to capture the unique color.

Unfortunately, her firm's newest client didn't care much for river paintings since they were paying for a full digital marketing overhaul. Truth be told, she didn’t hate her job as a creative director for the largest marketing firm in Velaris. It allowed her a steady income, let her flex her creativity to some capacity, and definitely kept her on her toes. She had started as a design team member with the firm several years ago upon graduating from Prythian U, and after several largely successful projects, she started to gain more responsibilities within the team. Once her team’s creative director, Amarantha, had moved on to another firm, Feyre had been promoted to her position.

She turned back to her computer screen, willing the motivation to hit her. Any moment now.

This was a typical pattern for her. Initiating a new project was always the hardest part, but once she got started, she tumbled down the proverbial rabbit hole. She just had to... start.

“Ughh,” Feyre lamented. “I wish I was halfway through this proposal already. I’m way better at that point in the project.”

”You are pretty worthless right now,” Lucien joked. Feyre offered a vulgar gesture in return, earning a hearty laugh from her friend.

Lucien left the marketing side of the firm about a year ago, itching for a different opportunity that would allow him to express himself more freely. He felt stifled by the business side of things; the numbers, the politics, the marketing director he worked under. Tamlin hadn’t been the absolute worst to him, but his leadership style didn’t align well with Lucien for the long-term. He had ended up as a member of Feyre’s team and seemed to fill a void they weren’t aware they had.

“I can’t be that mad at you, to be honest. You’re not wrong,” she replied. “Maybe I need caffeine to get out of the post-lunch slump.”

”Someone say caffeine?”

Rhysand Vila approached, perching on the corner of Feyre’s desk. He was wearing dark khaki slacks with a black button down, rolled up to the elbows. At some point, he had ditched his tie in favor of an open neckline, likely free of meetings for the rest of the day. His casual appearance didn’t readily identify him as one of the firm’s most successful marketing directors, but his authenticity was one of the things that extended his influence the most.

Rhysand’s marketing team often collaborated with Feyre’s creative one, and they managed to create some of the most well-balanced projects within the firm. They worked so flawlessly together that they were starting to become almost exclusively paired, much to the chagrin of some of the other teams. Not only were their proposals solid, their presentations were engaging and convincing. Their perspectives on the projects, combined with their mutual respect of the other’s contributions, presented a solid, united front that built trust with their clients.

Through long work hours and multiple business trips across Prythian, Rhysand had become one of Feyre’s dear friends. When they’d originally started working together, his cockiness had grated her nerves to the nth degree, but she realized over time that it was mostly in jest. In truth, Rhysand was kind-hearted, cared deeply for the people in his life, and an incredibly supportive partner on client projects.

They’d fallen into a comfortable kind of friendship, and they’d only gotten closer with time. He’d confided in her about the toxic relationship he and Amarantha had foolishly found themselves in, and he’d listened to her never-ending rants about her brief coupling with Tamlin, nothing but understanding all over his face.

“I think a coffee run is a necessity,” Feyre said, playfulness dancing across her features.

“I left my wallet in my desk. I’ll go grab it. Meet you at the elevator?” Rhysand asked as he walked backward toward his office.

“Sounds good!” she replied. She turned to Lucien. “You coming?”

He had an odd look on his face, smirk included. She gave him a questioning look, and he let out a low chuckle. “Nah. But if I give you my card, will you grab something for me?”

”Why wouldn’t you just come? I’m not your coffee bitch, Vanserra.” That earned a full laugh.

”And I would never assume you to be. If I’m going to take a break, I don’t feel like being third wheel, is all.” The confused look returned to her face, and he continued. “Feyre, stop. It’s not my company either of you want on this little coffee date. You and Rhysand can go about your charade with anyone else, but you’re not getting that shit by me. It’s fine— you two are great together. I just can’t figure out why you insist on the secret.”

Feyre’s expression morphed into a stunned one, and it took her a few seconds to decide on a response. She and Rhysand had never crossed any lines beyond platonic, so all of this was news to her.

”Luce, I’m not sure who your source was for that little nugget of info, but don’t trust them with anything incredibly important in the future. They’re way off,” she assured him. “Text me your coffee order.”

She made her way to the elevator, finding Rhysand propped against the wall on his shoulder. He was scrolling through his phone, stray black hair falling across his brow, looking as if he couldn’t be bothered by the work day. Once the elevator made it to their floor, they stepped inside and found themselves sharing with Morrigan Reina. She was head of Human Resources, absolutely stunning, and Rhysand’s cousin. She had to admit, their genetic pool was quite impressive, all things considered. She was his opposite in every way with her brown eyes and blonde hair, but they shared immaculate bone structure and a certain elegance. Objectively speaking.

“Well, hi! This elevator ride just got way more fun. How’s is going, Rhysie? Fey?” Her dark eyes sparkled, dancing over Rhysand’s face. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly, silently communicating with him in that way only family can.

”Oh, come off it, Mor. We’re on a coffee run. Care to join?” Something in his tone seemed oddly like a challenge. She realized she hadn’t yet answered Morrigan but felt like a response of “Doing well” would seem out of context, since Rhys had already transitioned away from greetings. She deciding on standing there awkwardly, pretending not to feel incredibly intimidated by this woman in the elevator.

“So sweet of you, but I’ll have to take a rain check. This is my floor actually. Unfortunately, I have a termination meeting to attend. Have some for me!” She brushed her cheek against his in a mock kiss. “Good seeing you, Feyre!” She disappeared so quickly that Feyre started to doubt if she was ever there in the first place.

“Awfully prickly with your dear cousin this afternoon, Rhysie,” she teased.

”Well, dearest Mor can be quite the busy body and likes to think she knows all of my secrets.” He gave a small eye roll, but the smirk on his face gave his affection away.

“You have my attention. I think it’s only fair that I’m let in on this little secret.”

She swore the tops of his bronze ears turned slightly pink. “I assure you I’m not that interesting, Feyre Darling.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimed, and they were walking into their building’s lobby. The coffee shop was right next door, so they made their way there quickly. Within 10 minutes, they had their coffees in hand and were sharing an elevator with a small crowd on their way back to work. Feyre regretted that she wasn’t able to press Rhys for his secrets anymore but supposed it was for the best.

He took the long way to his office in order to drop her off at her desk. She set Lucien’s coffee down on his desk with just enough force to startle him out of his work, earning a laugh from Rhys. Lucien simply glared at her before mumbling his thanks and taking a long pull of coffee.

“Well, Feyre Darling, this is where I leave you.”

Lucien eyed her over his coffee lid, lowering it slowly as he paid full attention to their exchange.

Feyre chuckled, ignoring Lucien altogether. “Thanks for returning me safely. I fully intend on pulling at least one secret from you on the next trip, though. You’ve been warned.”

His violet eyes bore into hers, amusement all over his face. “Do your worst,” he replied, winking at her as he sipped his coffee and walked away.

——————————————————————————

Coffee seemed to be just the inspiration Feyre needed to hit her creative stride for the afternoon. She finally managed to land on a prospective theme for the new account, and she was busy making some rough sketches on her drawing tablet. A booming voice called out to her from down the hall, and she recognized it immediately as Tamlin. Of course he would recruit her attention once she was finally feeling productive.

“Feyre, could you come down as soon as you’re free? I’d like you to do a consult with Ianthe.”

She forced herself to refrain from rolling her eyes, trying her best to be diplomatic.

“Sure, Tamlin. Be there in a bit.”

He hesitated at his office door, poorly masking his impatience when she didn’t immediately jump out of her chair. Typical.

She was already annoyed at his loud declaration across the office that he was asking her to give feedback on another creative director’s work. She didn’t feel particularly protective over Ianthe. It was just poor form, and it set the tone for resentment with no true reason.

Finally, she stood and made her way to his office. He was in his office chair, Ianthe pointing to various items of interest on a flat screen mounted to the wall. She greeted Feyre politely, but it didn’t seem like she was all to keen on getting her feedback.

“What can I help with?” Feyre offered.

“I wanted to see what you thought about the account we’re working on. Considering that you’ve been monopolized by Vila for months, I thought I could at least get a brief consult,” he explained.

Feyre decided to mentally count how many underhanded comments she’d endure over the course of this meeting.

One.

”Sure. What’s up?”

Ianthe launched into the cliff notes of her project, Tamlin contributing nothing the entire time.

“I’m sure you’re probably swamped with whatever you’re working on Feyre, so I appreciate you taking time to look at what I’ve put together.” Ianthe seemed genuine enough. She wasn’t sure if she trusted her, but she felt bad for her all the same.

Before she could respond, Tamlin inserted himself. “Oh, she’s definitely seems busy. Just not sure how much of it is work-related.” Her head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. She steadied herself and turned her attention back to Ianthe to try and keep this meeting on track.

Two.

”Honestly, Ianthe, I think you have a great proposal overall. My only suggestion is that you consider a different color focus. Your primary color for the logo is red, and that happens to be the main color of their largest competitor’s logo as well,” she stated, ignoring Tamlin entirely.

He started to say something about her input, but she quickly interrupted him.

“How unfortunate that the person responsible for doing the relevant market research into any competitors didn’t think that to be relevant intel to bring to the project,” she finished, eyes gravitating back to Tamlin’s face.

”Good catch,” Ianthe said simply.

“It’s happened to me before, too. Don’t create too much additional work for yourself. Maybe see about pulling one of your coordinating colors forward instead, and see how that plays out. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

”I’m not sure how you’ve managed to convince Vila to do all that extra legwork on your behalf, but it sounds like you’re awfully convincing,” Tamlin seethed. He couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

Three.

It was quiet for several uncomfortable seconds. As if on cue, her savior himself appeared in Tamlin’s doorway, a friendly smile on his face just for her. He knocked with his knuckle as he glanced around the room.

“Sorry for interrupting. Feyre, could you stop by my office before you head out today? Nothing big. Our last account sent an email asking for some minor changes, and I wanted to get your input before I tell them anything,” he said.

“Of course, Rhys. I’ll be there in a second,” she replied. He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, that rogue strand of hair kissing his brow yet again. When he walked away, she immediately felt compelled to follow him, as if he took the light straight out of the room when he left.

“You may go, Ianthe,” Tamlin stated dryly. She quickly excused herself, repeating her thanks to Feyre on the way out.

“You realize you two are partners— she doesn’t work for you.”

“Our dynamic is hardly your business, Feyre.” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but she hated the way he spoke to people who worked with him. It had always bothered her.

“Says the guy who all but insinuated that I’m putting out to get Rhys to be a good partner on projects. You’re unbelievable.”

“All of the speculation that circulates around this office regarding you and Rhysand, and you’re caught on what I’ve said? Feyre, sweetie. I thought we were past this.”

”It seems as though the lot of you aren’t busy enough if you have all this time to discuss whether Rhys and I have some secret affair happening under your noses. Maybe if you put half that effort into your job duties, you’d be an almost decent partner to Ianthe,” she snapped.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with me and Ianthe. We’ll work together in whatever way works for us. Plus, you basically belong to Rhys now, so you won’t have to worry over having to work with the likes of me.” The way he mockingly said Rhys’ name made her want to punch him in the throat.

She turned on her heel to leave, so angry that she didn’t trust herself to respond professionally. Once she got to the doorway, she found the words rolling off her tongue without a conscious thought.

“I ‘belong’ to no one. Your problem is that you see people as assets rather than building relationships. You should consider incorporating a little humanity into your leadership. You may find yourself a little less miserable to work for or be around. From now on, Ianthe can address me directly if she needs me. You, sir, can fuck off.”

——————————————————————————

Feyre made her way directly to Rhysand’s office, still fuming. She probably needed a quick break on the roof to clear her head, but it was already 4:30. She didn’t want to make Rhys stay late so that she could pout properly. Although, he’d probably do that for her if she asked.

She approached his door, knocking lightly when she saw he was on the phone. He waved her in as he finished his call. He let out a polite chuckle at whomever was on the line, and she wondered how even his contrived laughter sounded almost musical.

“Absolutely. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. Bye.” He placed the receiver of his office phone into the cradle and faced her fully.

“Hey there, Feyre Darling. Thanks for saving some time for me today. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I wasn’t sure when if I’d be able to catch you later.” He leaned back in his chair, propped his elbow on the arm rest, and cupped his large hand to run it over his face. So he was tired, too.

Feyre let out a low chuckle. “You’re my hero, basically. Your timing was absolutely perfect. Never hesitate to interrupt if Tamlin is the person I’m talking to.”

His bright, violet eyes seemed to linger on her face. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you laugh again,” he mused. “It’s become one of my favorite sounds, I think.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face, and she found one mirrored on his own. She cleared her throat, unsure how to tame the butterflies she was experiencing at his words.

“Shall we?” She motioned to his computer, and he nodded. She pulled her chair to his desk so that she could see, but he forced her to switch with him, insisting she take control of moving through the project.

She wasn’t sure if she was reading way too much into the weird comments she had heard today about her and Rhys, but she was acutely aware of his thigh so close to hers. It was far enough that they weren’t flush, but she could feel the heat radiating off of him in the most distracting way.

He already had the project pulled up on the screen and asked her to move through the document to the place of the proposed changes. He reached across her slightly to point at something, and she was instantly immersed in his scent. She found it oddly comforting, if she was honest with herself.

“So what do you think? Is it a simple fix? Or would this be something beyond the originally contracted rate? If it’s going to take you some time, I think it’s appropriate that we negotiate an additional fee, especially considering we’ve just initiated another large account.”

”Mmm. It’s been a while. Mind if I play with it for a minute?” she asked.

”Yeah, for sure. Take your time,” he said, leaning back in his chair as she worked.

Several minutes passed in excruciating silence, causing Feyre to break out in nervous laughter.

“You can talk to me, you know. It’s eerily quiet in here,” she joked.

He huffed a laugh. ”Hmm, okay. Anything particularly interesting around the office today?”

She thought immediately of her conversations with Lucien and Tamlin, and she couldn’t help but include their interaction with Mor in the elevator on the list. It really was such a weird day.

She worked for a couple of seconds before she replied. “It was quite the day, to say the least. I learned a lot about myself via the grapevine.”

”You mean to tell me there’s gossip in this office?”

”This very one,” she replied through a laugh.

“This is the part where you tell me what’s been said about you, Darling.”

She big her bottom lip, nervous of how he would react. “Well, it’s not exclusive to me. It has to do with you, too.” Her eyes never left the computer screen as she spoke.

“I like how that looks,” he said in regard to her edits, jumping straight back into their original conversation. “Now you have to tell me, especially if I’m involved.”

He offered a small poke to her ribs, laughing at her jerking away from him and the glare it earned. “Spill, Archeron.”

Before she could chicken out, she described her interaction with Lucien prior to their coffee run. He went entirely still as she spoke, eyes trained on the screen. When she finished, he said, “I see. I bet Lucien thinks he’s quite clever, then... Oh wait, I like that better.” He pointed to a small change she made.

He seemed so indifferent, and despite her attempts to the contrary, it bothered her that he was acting so cavalier. She had to check herself, remembering how ridiculous she had found the comments only a handful of hours ago. It was certainly unfair to have expectations of him being that she had barely finished processing this afternoon’s events.

“Yeah, I guess he’s pretty proud of himself. I don’t know how much he believed me when I told him he was off-base, but time will tell, I guess.” She immediately launched into her interaction with Tamlin, outlining the full interaction for him.

His jaw was tense throughout the story, and she could see his shoulders tighten when she would share a particularly tasteless thing Tamlin said. They tended to stay out of each others’ ways, so sometimes it was easy to forget how much animosity existed between the two of them. She finished the entire story, and decided to wrap up everything in a brief summary.

”So yeah, according to Lucien and Tamlin, you and I are hiding a super secret little office affair. But apparently we’re really bad at it, because everyone knows.” She let out a long breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding. His response was swift.

“Well, that’s fucking ridiculous.” He stated, so matter of fact. “Go back to that one really quick— if you don’t mind.” His eyes never left the screen. All business, all of a sudden.

Okay. Now, his indifference stung. She thought she knew Rhysand well enough that he would cushion the blow better than this if he were totally shooting her down. She didn’t like how detached he was, and come to think of it, it’s not like she had offered herself to him anyway. For all he knew, she could find the idea of them dating totally repulsive.

“You could do a lot worse for yourself, you know,” she said, anger bubbling to the service. She saw his head snap toward her, but she refused to look at him.

”What?”

”I know you could walk out of this office and take your pick, but you could do worse for yourself than me. It can’t be that ‘fucking ridiculous’.” She clenched her jaw to force herself to stop talking and breathe.

He sat there looking at her, his attention to the project entirely derailed.

“Feyre...” he started.

”It’s late. I’ll finish looking at this tomorrow. Could you save the changes and upload to the cloud? I think I can make quick work of it.”

”Would you look at me, please?”

She let go of the computer mouse and covered her face with both hands. She rubbed her face roughly as she spoke.

“I’m just tired, Rhysand. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just forget I said anything. Really, I’m okay.” She didn’t want to see the pity in his face or listen to any explanations. She just needed to get out of there.

She felt one of his hands grip softly around the wrist closest to him as he turned the chair to get her to face him. She kept her face covered, leaning forward, and he had the nerve to laugh softly at her.

“You are such a stubborn, difficult woman sometimes, Feyre Darling.” He gripped her other wrist with his free hand and pulled her hands away from her face. She was too tired to fight him on it, so she let him. She fixed her gaze on his thighs, not entirely prepared for what his expression would show.

“Please look at me,” he whispered. She melted at the tone of his voice, imploring her to make eye contact, and raised her eyes to meet his.

He rubbed slow circles on the sensitive underside of her wrists as he spoke. “In no way, is the idea of me being with you ridiculous. What is so ridiculous to me, Darling, is the idea that I could ever be with you and delude myself into thinking I could keep it a secret,” he murmured, the sincerity in his expression overwhelming her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, readying himself to finish. “Cauldron, Feyre. If you ever let me love you... I wouldn’t have it in me to contain it.”

She was frozen in her chair, in total disbelief. Once she finally regained control of herself, she reached her hand up to smooth his hair back into place. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

“That piece of hair has been driving me insane all day long,” she whispered. She was closer now, so much closer to him than she had ever been. She dropped her hand back to her lap to find his again.

His eyes popped open, traveling across her face and landing on her full lips. She watched his tongue dart out of his mouth slightly to wet his own before she regained eye contact. She leaned forward a little more, his hand coming up to brush her hair behind her ear. He cupped her face, running his thumb across her cheek.

“Feyre?” It was barely a whisper, but it was everything.

She subtly nodded her head, and his lips were on hers. He was slow, near reverent as he kissed her, and she leaned in to him, craving more contact. He slid his hand a little farther back so that his fingers could find their home in her hair, just behind her ear. She braced her hand on his forearm, and he pulled her face into his, only slightly, to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper as Rhys angled himself to better capture her mouth, and just like that, she was gone. She no longer registered that they were in Rhys’ office or that his door was still open from when she arrived. As far as she was concerned, the world began and ended with them.

They both missed the quick footsteps as Lucien passed by on his way back to his desk from a meeting. They were entirely unaware of his halt as he realized what he’d witnessed and his prompt back peddling. It was when they heard his quiet rasp that they startled, breaking apart only millimeters.

”I fucking knew it!” he whisper-screamed, obviously pleased with himself.

True to Rhysand’s nature, he seemed totally unfazed by Lucien’s discovering them. He brushed his nose over Feyre’s, a grin spreading across his beautiful face.

”Fuck off, Lucien,” he crooned playfully.

His mouth was on hers yet again, neither of them noticing the soft click of the door as Lucien backed out of the office.

——————————————————————————

Just a bit of Feysand fluff for y’all! Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, you can comment, shoot me an ask, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08​ // @maastrash​

#feysand #feysand au #feysand fluff #acotar #acowar #acomaf #sjm #feysand fanfic

[yungidreamer]

A Sprinkle of Love

Prompts: (from the Walking in a Winter Wonderland Collaboration) 

“From afar I’ve loved you, but never let it show. And every year another December comes and goes.” - Kelly Clarkson (Wrapped in Red)

“You’re here where you should be. Snow is falling as the carolers sing.” - Kelly Clarkson (Underneath the Tree)

Wordcount: 3.6k

Summary: Mingi has been in love with his neighbor across the street since she first moved in. Sadly, he’s never gotten up the confidence to do much more than stare at her longingly. But maybe, with a little Christmas magic, and with the help of some sweets, he can get the gift he has really been pining for... her heart.

Content warnings: None, this is pretty much pure fluff. Mingi is a nervous and adorable dork in love.

Mingi hummed as he carried the bag of groceries up to his front door on his hip. Christmas was coming soon and the cold weather that had fallen on the city made the air crisp. The puffs of his breath hung in the air like crystalline clouds. A shiver ran through him as he paused at the door to search for his keys. That familiar jingle filled his ears, almost like sleigh bells if you used your imagination.

From the house across the street he heard the soft foof of the door there open. Mingi’s eyes turned to see her scurry out the door carrying a bag of trash out to her trash can. As she dashed back to her front door, she noticed Mingi, giving him a quick wave before heading inside. He waved back, half forgetting that he was just standing at his open front door. Shaking himself mentally, Mingi stepped inside, slipped off his shoes and headed to the kitchen to put away his groceries.

With a sigh, he opened his phone and started his Christmas playlist. It was the holidays, the time to be in a happy, magical mood. Darn it, he was going to enjoy this holiday, even if he couldn’t spend it with her.

From afar I’ve loved you, but never let it show. And every year another December comes and goes.

Mingi sighed at the lyrics wishing he was just a little stronger, a little braver. How many times had he missed the chance to ask her out? How many times had he chickened out of even just going across the street to talk to her? He banged his forehead against the wood of the cabinet door, as if that could knock a little bit of sense into him. Sadly, it mostly just made his head hurt.

She had moved in a week after he did and, for him it had been love at first sight. Her warm smile, laughing eyes, and the way she always waved whenever she noticed him just standing like an idiot on his doorstep, watching her. Thank goodness she was nice and at least seemed to not think he was a complete weirdo and idiot. A perception he might have deserved for as many times as she had caught him just staring.

A sharp knock sounded on the door, shocking him out of his self-pity. He couldn’t help but wonder who could be there. He had just talked to his parents and he knew that Yunho had already headed back home to spend the holidays with his family. No one else really came by to see him.

He shoved the last of his groceries in the cabinet and headed to the door to see who it could be. When he opened the door he felt his soul float out of his ear and his heart stop in his chest. There she was, standing at his door, looking adorable and bundled, holding a little plate of something covered in foil.

“Hi Mingi,” she said brightly. “Merry Christmas! I made some turtles yesterday and thought you might like to have some. Umm, so, here…” She pushed the plate towards him so he could take it and for a second all he could do was look at it. His brain told his hands to take it, and told his mouth to utter the simple words thank you, but somehow, none of his body seemed to work the way it was supposed to.

“Turtles?” He finally managed to ask as his hands started moving to the plate. All he could think of the little shelled creatures and he was almost positive she wouldn’t be handing him a plate of them to eat for Christmas.

“Oh!” She laughed, luckily reading his reaction as confusion. “Pecans, caramel, and chocolate. It’s a treat my family always makes this time of year. Wait, you don’t have a nut allergy...or are lactose intolerant?”

“No no,” he was quick to reply, taking the plate from her hands before she could take it back. He would have cherished them even if he was, he just wouldn’t have been able to taste them, but he still would have loved them. “Thanks so much.”

“I’m glad you can have them,” she smiled. “Umm, anyway, I also came over because I wanted to ask if you were free this evening. Would you like to come over and decorate some cookies?”

“Tonight?” He blinked at her.

“Yeah, if you’re busy, don’t worry about it,” she gave him a carefree shrug and another grin as she took half a step back.

“I can come,” he rushed to reply, wanting to kick himself for not saying yes right away.

“Okay, great,” She nodded, straightening the collar of her sweater. “See you at six then?”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” he agreed, still holding the plate, gripped a little too tightly in his fingers.

“Good, good,” as she backed away, she stuffed her hands in her pocket. “Bye, see you tonight.”

Mingi watched her go, stuck where she had left him, holding the plate until she gave a final wave and disappeared through her front door. He couldn’t believe it. She had come over, she had invited him over. He felt giddy for a second before the butterflies in his stomach fluttered into a cloud that caused a little nausea to rise.

“It will be fine,” he told himself as he made his feet carry him inside, his eyes focused on the foil covered plate. “Don’t freak yourself out,” he told himself. “It’s just cookies. It doesn’t mean anything.” His voice came out with a little crack, like he was still some teen just hitting puberty. “She’ll probably have other people there anyway,” he reasoned, his stomach dropping a little at the realization she probably would. I mean why would she invite just me? He wondered to himself. She probably just thinks I’m a weird loner in need of a pity invite.

With a sigh he took the plate to the kitchen and set it on the counter. Pulling back the foil, he looked at the treats underneath. A smile teased at his lips. They really did look kind of like turtles. Four little legs on the sides and a little bump for the head. Picking one up, he took a bite and he had to admit, it was a lovely treat. A perfect mix of bitter and buttery from the nuts, creamy sweet from the caramel, and tart sweetness of the dark chocolate. Oh, he suddenly thought, I need to get her something in return for these. He started wracking his brain for ideas even as he moved towards the front door to head back to the store.

Mingi stood on her stoop, willing himself to take those last few steps to her front door, but the tingling weakness in his knees kept his feet glued where they were. She’s waiting for you, he scolded himself. She invited you, you can’t just not show up. As he stood there, willing himself to move, the door opened, warm light shining out through the crack as it grew until she slipped outside to greet him where he stood frozen.

“Are you ready to come in?” She asked, a teasing note to her voice.

“Yes,” he stuttered, finally getting his feet to move.

“Glad you could make it,” she commented as she stepped aside to let him inside. “I wasn’t sure you would actually come.”

“Why?” He asked, looking down at her with wide eyes as she shrugged off his coat.

“Well, you seemed a little wary when I invited you this afternoon,” she gave a self deprecating laugh. “I thought maybe you’d come up with some excuse to not come.”

“Oh, no,” Mingi shook his head and pushed the second of his shoes off with a little more force than necessary, causing him to become unsteady on his feet. As he teetered slightly on his single socked foot, she caught him, bringing their faces together to an awkwardly intimate distance. She’s so pretty, he thought as he looked into her eyes, their faces only a few inches apart.

“Let’s get to the kitchen,” she cleared her throat, taking a step back and breaking eye contact. “I have the dough all ready to roll out. You can help me pick the shapes we’ll be decorating.”

“Okay,” he agreed, following her through her cozily decorated living room, lit up by the glow of a well decorated tree tucked into a corner beside the hearth. Together they stepped into the little kitchen, warm and filled with the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and orange. The white tiles of the backsplash glistened alongside the stainless steel of the cling wrap covered bowl that had been placed next to the sink. It felt like the sort of place that begged for company and a warm cup of hot cocoa topped with a fluffy marshmallow.

“Do you know how to roll out dough for cookies?” She asked as she offered him an apron.

“I did it a few times as a kid,” he shrugged. “I don’t remember it being hard at least.”

“Good,” she smiled and handed him a wooden rolling pin. “You can put those strong arms to good use then.” Turning to face the table, she laid out a silicon baking mat and put a light dusting of flour on it before pulling out the large ball of cold dough. “Okay just be careful. It is a little hard at the moment.”

Mingi nodded and stepped forward, a serious look on his face. This may just be cookies, but this was his chance to show her that he could be useful and that he was more than just her stuttering, nervous neighbor who lived across the street. Pursing his lips, he pressed the rolling pin into the middle of the mound, perhaps with a little more force than necessary, causing the dough and the baking mat to slip and the rolling pin in his hands to loudly thunk into the table.

“Oops,” he chuckled nervously.

“Gosh, I was afraid of that,” she sighed, looking perturbed at the dough. “I didn’t get it out far enough ahead of time.”

“I can do it,” Mingi said with determination. “I’ll just be a little more careful this time.”

“Are you sure?” She questioned, peering between him and the dough. “We can give it another 20 minutes to warm up.”

“I can do it,” he stated, giving the dough a look that said he was not a man to be challenged by mere flour and fats. He put the rolling pin back at the highest point, carefully pressing down, making it just a little flatter before picking it up and pressing it down again at a different angle. Ever so slowly, he managed to work it down into a flatter, wider slab of dough about the right thickness for cookies.

With a smile, she took the rolling pin and evened out the dough, spreading it a little thinner and a little wider. Finally satisfied, she stepped back and brushed her hands on the front of her apron to clean them off. She gave a little nod and minced over to the counter, gathering a mess of little metal shapes in her hands and bringing them over to the table where he was waiting.

“Okay, what do you think?” She asked as she let them tumble onto the table on the other side of the dough. “Trees? Ornaments? Reindeer?”

“I always think that trees taste better somehow,” Mingi admitted with a laugh.

“Okay I always feel that way about ornaments,” she giggled back, looking up at him with a joyful camaraderie. “Maybe let’s start with those two. I always feel bad eating the things that are supposed to have faces anyway.”

Mingi nodded with a look of sympathy at the quirk. Of course she would feel bad eating cookies with a face, it was just so her. He had been too scared to instigate anything with her, but every time she had stopped by to ask for something or to let him know about something that had happened in the neighborhood, it had been something that made his heart melt. From the time she had come over to remind him to check under his car for a cat she had seen run under it the evening before, just in case, to all the times he had come out to find his windows already scraped free from frost. The first couple of times, he had been completely baffled as to how it had happened, until he needed to head out a half an hour before his usual time and found her bundled up, scraper in hand, clearing up his window. She had been surprised to see him so early, but had greeted him happily, telling him she just had a little more to go. Since then, he had gotten up every morning when frost was likely, started coffee, and checked out his front window every ten minutes until he saw her coming or already at his car and quickly headed out to give her a mug of warm coffee as a thanks.

She handed him the cookie cutter shaped like a Christmas tree and picked up the mostly circular ornament shaped cutter and pressed it into the dough. Mingi followed suit and before long they were putting dozens of cookies on a tray ready to go into the pre-heated oven that was warming the room. She slid the full tray into the oven and set the timer before turning to him with a smile.

“I think we have enough for one more tray when that comes out,” hands on hips, she estimated looking at the scraps on the table. “More trees and ornaments or something else?”

“What about this?” He asked, picking up a heart shaped cutter.

“Sure,” she agreed, squeezing the scraps back into a ball to roll out again. “It’s never the wrong season for love.”

Mingi could feel a blush rising on his cheeks as he watched her roll out the dough again. Everything about her just made him soft and he really wished he had the courage to say so.

They finished the cookies in a flash, pulling them out of the oven and setting them on some racks to cool and setting to work making the icing in all the colors they needed and putting out all the balls, flakes, and sprinkles she had, ready to decorate. They were done well before the cookies were fully cool and she, as if she had read his mind when he had first entered, made them both big mugs of hot chocolate.

She guided him into the living room and turned on some holiday music and invited him to sit with her on the plush, blanket covered couch. Mingi took a seat, holding the Christmasy mug between both of his hands to keep them from fidgeting nervously. His eyes flicked to look at her as the first song filled the quiet air of the room.

“Oh look,” she said excitedly, setting her mug on the coffee table in front of them. “It’s snowing!”

“Is it?” Mingi asked, setting his own mug down and following her to look out her front window that looked out onto the yard and towards his house.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She enthused. “It’s really starting to feel like Christmas.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, stepping just a little bit closer to her. “Beautiful.”

“I love snow,” she sighed, looking up at him for a moment when she could bring herself to look away from the slowly falling fluffy flakes.

“Me too,” Mingi agreed. “Well at least when I don’t have to drive in it.”

“Well then, isn’t it lucky that you don’t have to go anywhere tonight?” She grinned.

“Yeah,” He looked down at her and wished for the hundredth time he was brave enough to just say… I think I love you. A jazzy piano version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas started playing and she stepped back from the window, moving as if she was going back to the couch only to pause in her tracks. Stepping back toward Mingi, she took one of his hands and pulled him close to her, effortlessly pulling them into a gentle embrace to move together in time to the music. They swayed together in time to the song and then the next, letting themselves get ever closer with each song.

Just at the moment when Mingi thought he might have the courage to say something, or maybe even lean in to steal a quick kiss, the bright peel of her doorbell startled them apart. She apologized, her cheeks a little pink if his eyes were to be trusted, and moved to answer the front door. The moment her door opened the clear, melodic sound of voices carried through it.

“Hark the herald angels sing,” sang the group of five carolers who stood on her porch, bundled warmly against the cold and the snow. Mingi came to stand behind her at the door watching and listening to the cheery group sing.

“Okay, $10 if you stay and sing two more songs, deal?” She offered as she dug into her pocket. “Do you by chance know Silver Bells?”

“Yeah, and deal!” An eager teenager in the middle nodded, extending their hand for the bill. The group broke into song and she leaned back gently against Mingi.

“Merry Christmas, Mingi,” she murmured quietly so that only he could hear her. “Since there isn’t going to be a better time than this… do you maybe want to go out on an actual date?”

“An actual date?” Mingi asked, eyes widening. Had he actually managed to get a date with her and not know it?

“You don’t have to,” she faltered slightly as she spoke. “And, ummm, I can always send the cookies to you if you just want to go—”

Mingi couldn’t let her finish that thought and leaned in, pressing his pillowy lips to hers as he pulled her close. A few of the carolers paused in their singing to let out little giggles and aww’s until the one who had taken the money cleared his throat and started singing a little louder.

“Is that a yes?” She asked with a blushing grin.

“Yes, it's a big, sure, happy yes,” Mingi grinned back, cupping her cheek with his big hand.

“Do you want to stay over tonight,” she pressed, holding his hand to her face.

“Can I?” He asked, excitement flaring in his chest.

“Well,” she shrugged. “You’re here where you should be. Snow is falling as the carolers sing. It would be a real shame not to let the moment we have last.”

“Yes please,” He leaned in again, taking her lips as the carolers finished the last song and started off towards the next house, snickering slightly at the cute couple. They moved inside when the nip of the frosty air was stronger than the pleasing fog of finally confessing that had enveloped them. Pulling her inside, Mingi closed the door behind them. As they stepped inside, something caught Mingi’s eyes, a little something sticking out of the pocket on his coat.

“Oh wait,” he burst out, reaching for it. “I have something for you.”

“Something?” She asked, following his gaze to see the little box poking out of his coat pocket.

“Yeah,” He blushed as he pulled it out and handed it to her. “I wanted to get you something as a thank you for the turtles… and for all the mornings that you helped me out with the frost on the car windows.”

“I didn’t mind,” she clutched the little red box to her chest. “I had to do mine in the mornings anyway. A few more windows wasn’t that much more time.”

“You didn’t have to,” he gave her a wistful look and wished he had gathered the courage to ask her out months and months ago. How many kisses had he missed? How much more?

With a last smile up at him she slipped the ribbons off the box and took off the lid. She let out a little oh at the sight of the little bracelet that sat inside the box on a pillow of black velvet. The small silver chain had a single pendant hanging on it; a little frosted snowflake.

“Oh Mingi,” she sighed happily. “It’s beautiful. You shouldn’t have… it’s… it's too much to give me in return for a little candy.”

“It’s a thank you for every morning of helping me and for every wave you gave me when you caught me staring from across the street,” He explained, pulling it out and fastening it around her wrist. “And maybe now when you see it, you’ll remember today and think of me.”

“I wouldn’t need a bracelet to remember today,” she replied gently, lifting her hand to cup his cheek and bring his lips back to hers. “This will be a Christmas I’ll never forget, I can already tell.”

Mingi melted into her kiss, enjoying the warmth of her body where it pressed against him. She seemed to fit him perfectly just like he had always hoped.

“Do you want to work on decorating the cookies?” She asked, pulling back and drawing in a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” he agreed, brushing a little kiss over the corner of her lips. “Let’s decorate the cookies. We have time for everything now.”

“Merry Christmas, Mingi,” she pressed her forehead to his.

“Merry Christmas, my angel,” he responded with a giddy smile.

Masterlist

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