#Also this was my first attempt at dramatic lighting

[onlygarden]

[so good, light up the neighborhood] - park sunghoon

genre: smut

description: after moving into a new home, you develop a less-than-subtle admiration for your neighbor - a handsome, charming man who also happens to be forty years old. sunghoon is 40, reader is in their 20s, dilf sunghoon (he's not a father, just a dilf if you know what i mean), unprotected sex, biting, power play kinda, sunghoon is flirty, dom sunghoon, older sunghoon (whatever you say daddy)

a/n: this fic kinda beat my ass, but i'm super excited about it :D been brewing this idea for a little while heheh

the late afternoon sunlight brightened the expanse of your living room, dramatically bright rays resting upon your eyelashes and obstructing the view of the drama on your television. albeit, you were rewatching it, anyway; and only half watching at that, since your mind obliged you into pondering the gentleman who now lived next door to you. 

your recent move-in concluded only a week ago, the less-than-impressive dimensions of your new home still littered with empty boxes which sat in a neat pile beside your front door – your poor attempt at tidying the muddled mess of your unpacking process. 

you approach the clutter of empty boxes, thoughts of your new neighbor lapping your brain rampantly, their stubborn insistence rousing a sigh from your lips. images of his delicate, genuine smile as he introduced himself, his habit of using ‘sweetheart’ rather than your name, his firm ‘you don’t have to strain yourself, let me…” as you attempted to carry all your boxes into the house alone remained on a continuous loop, beyond any of your better judgment or hollow efforts to distract yourself. 

your knowledge of him doesn’t extend very far, similar to your brief list of interactions with him – the only information you’ve gathered thus far is his name, age, and the fact that he’s so inconceivably handsome your breath hitched in your throat when you first cast your eyes towards him. the shocking difference in age between the two of you didn’t deter your admiration at all – sure, he’s forty years old, and sure, that’s much older than you. in your mind, however, the fact that he was old enough to be your father only strengthened the enchanting spell your body and your wits were under. 

“hey, sweetheart,” his familiar, yet charming voice rings out, gently diverting your attention away from your unseemly contemplations. 

your legs halt, pausing your movements in your short trek to your recycling bin. you eagerly direct your gaze to his direction, and goodness, there he is; just the sight of his gorgeous face causes a smile to glide it’s way across your features, followed by a subtle blush. the sound of his car door closing reaches your ears in the same moment that his classic, sly grin adorns his face, fueling a flurry of warmth in your tummy. you were so overcome by your thoughts, that you hadn’t even noticed his car returning to his driveway… 

“oh! hey, sunghoon,” you utter all too evenly – the pressure of the thump, thump, thump in your chest, and the shameful nature of your thoughts was not betrayed by your demeanor in the faintest degree. 

oh, he’s coming over here, you think as he suddenly begins to approach you. his legs drag him closer to you until he’s standing directly before you, the width of his shoulders and his daunting stature causing you to feel caged in. you invite the feeling, however, shamelessly basking in shelter he can provide with his frame alone.

you fling the thought from your mind as his gruff, warm voice reaches you again, his proximity intensifying the metaphorical embrace your senses receive whenever the sound reaches them. with such a limited distance between the two of you, his voice was much softer, more intimate – you were certain you could feel the resonance his voice created in his chest across your skin.  

“getting rid of all those empty boxes, huh?” he questions, his sly smile still proud on his face, but resting in such an easy manner. the ease of his expression mirrors the ease of his demeanor, not a single fray of tension shedding from him. 

“oh, yea… yea, i am,” you respond, your gaze shifting to the boxes in your hand in a fleeting glance, before returning to his captivating eyes – his eyes were chasms, shimmering dark orbs absorbing every grain of your attention, unpermitted and unforeseen by you. though if you did garner any control of the situation, you wouldn’t try to resist, anyway. 

his own gaze descends, falling upon the boxes you held before being captured by another, lower view. the pleat of your black tennis skirt was snagged underneath the boxes in your grasp, revealing the shorts underneath – the shorts designed to prevent situations like yours from becoming any less fortunate. though in your case, flashing the man in front of you with the sight of your thong would only serve to further gratify him. 

he noted the sight of the not-so-generous fabric, paying particularly close regard to the way the shorts sink into your flesh, your thighs pillowing around the constricting material. you truly didn’t realize, did you? you were so blissfully oblivious to the mishap, but equally as oblivious to the subtle change in his relaxed gaze to a more appreciative one.

a muted huff drifts past his lips, and he allows his eyes another moment to delight in the glimpse of your flesh bared by such a favorable accident. shielding your skin from his own ravenous leering, he tugs the fabric down, freeing your skirt from the captivity of the box and effectively concealing the skin of your upper thighs. in the process, he allows his deft fingers to graze your skin, lingering only for a moment before his hand falls to his side. well, there goes the view, he thinks. 

the vague blush which already plagued your features only brightens as you come into collision with the realization. the way he momentarily allowed his fingers to skim across your skin surely did not offer your rattled, wickedly jumbled mind any support.

a soft gasp spills from your lips, your eyes stretching wide as you struggle to accept the fact that sunghoon – your neighbor, and the man occupying every crevice of your brain – just saw up your skirt, whether the skirt in question was made with shorts or not.

“oh god, sunghoon… i’m sorry, i –” he intrudes on your frantic apologies, shaking his head dismissively as the warmth of his husky voice travels to your ears again. 

“need some help, sweetheart?” he inquires plainly, though the tone of his voice seems to insinuate a path of events that are obscured from the realm of plain.

your heart stutters beneath your chest, a sense of almost pleasant alarm crawling over your body. the breath in your throat catches, much like usual while you’re conversing with your neighbor. 

“help… help with what?” you inquire in return, the sound of your voice a feeble murmur, the breathiness only further shrouding your words. 

his grin returns to his lips, stretched wide enough to allow his pointed teeth to slip, a memorable feature you came to realize during your first conversation with him. 

“with the rest of your boxes,” he starts, a teasing lilt traveling through his voice. “i could help you bring them out.”

your shoulders begin to relax, the tension subsiding, leaving a subtle sense of disappointment to wander – a gesture you hope his gaze didn’t catch. 

“oh, my boxes…” you utter, your head dropping slightly as a faint chuckle leaves your chest. of course he was talking about the boxes, how could you let yourself get so carried away… 

“yea, i could use some help,” you follow, your eager declaration accompanied by a sweet smile. 

as you oblige in a shameless degree of willingness, sunghoon removes the boxes from your grip, striding casually to your recycling bin. 

your gaze remains on his frame for another moment, roaming over the expanse of his shoulders again, admiring the manner in which his black tee clung to him before you manage to avert your eyes – the fear of being caught grips you cruelly. 

as you head towards the door to retrieve another set of boxes, sunghoon pushes the door open a bit wider from behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder, and allowing it to follow the course of your spine down to the small of your back. he ushers you inside with gentle grace, an equally gentle “right behind you, sweetheart…” passing through his lips. you’re endlessly grateful for his position behind you, since it shielded the apparent heat on your face from his eyes. 

gosh, what’s his problem. the dominance behind such a simple gesture almost made you forget that it was your house, and you were the one leading him inside. 

he permits his eyes to travel throughout your home, observing the manner in which you arranged all of your belongings. 

“very cozy in here, darling,” he compliments. “did you do all of this by yourself?” 

darling. that was new. goodness, he hardly even knows you, but he always manages to sneak an endearing title into conversation with you. you desperately cling to the conviction that it’s completely normal, he’s just being friendly, he probably speaks this way with every young girl… but the distant belief that he’s trying to communicate more than just that is beginning to outshine the former. 

you face him with a quiet smile. “oh, yea. i did. i’m not entirely finished, but i’m glad you think it’s cozy. as my neighbor, you know.” 

a soft chuckle escapes him. 

“as your neighbor, yea…” he starts, a charming lilt littering his gruff voice. “well, i hope that as your neighbor, i’ll be invited over more often.” 

a blend of slight shock and enthusiastic excitement mingles together in your expression. the slight increase of your heart rate causes your voice to sound a bit breathier than you intended, but he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, he seems almost delighted by the reactions he keeps pulling from you. 

“of course, you’re always welcome,” you respond naturally, hints of kind enthusiasm lacing into your words. you continue, hoping your eager yearning doesn’t come across him. 

“is that something you would want, sunghoon?”

his eyebrows lift faintly, his expression relaxing from his usual sly demeanor. 

“yea, it is, but…” he starts, taking a step closer to you. 

“i hope i’ll get to see more than just the living room, darling…”  

a gasp wanders from your lips beyond your will, prompting the familiar sly smile to return to sunghoon’s lips. before you can even begin to formulate a response, however, his voice rings out again. 

“i’ll grab the rest of these boxes, and then we can chat, if you don’t mind,” he expresses with a hint of intrigue, his hands steadily emerging from his pockets and his head tilting in gesture to the bundle of boxes beside your front door. 

your mind encourages you to nod, your body complying with the request to an almost instinctual degree. you move to assist him in collecting what remained of your moving clutter, following his figure through your front door.

“yea, i’ll… i’ll grab some too,” you manage out, surprised that your frenzied mind could feed you a coherent sentence. 

once the two of you complete the task – a task which should have been simple, but was filled with tension and embarrassingly hungry anticipation on your end – you encourage him to sit on the couch, to which he complies easily. as your take your place beside him, he slithers closer, close enough for his knee to make contact with yours. 

this contact, this proximity – you’d be completely comfortable with it under any other circumstances. if anyone else, or any other guy, for that matter, were in his place, you wouldn’t be flustered in the slightest. it’s him, though, and any bit of contact that he’s generous enough to grace you with turns every fiber of your body into putty. putty meant to be molded, maneuvered, and played with by him alone. 

“you seeing anyone, darling?” he utters breezily, almost too casually for your poor mushy brain. other parts of yourself were beginning to grow rather mushy, too… 

“no, i’m not seeing anyone,” you start, shaking your head gently, your hair swaying a bit with the gesture. 

“why?” you continue. 

his expression brightens marginally at your answer, though the brightness of his expression is still maintained by his sly, casual smile. 

“you see, doll,” he prods, his voice a low timbre, coating your senses in a fresh wave of heat. his hand comes to rest on your knee, rousing every nerve beneath your bare skin, igniting a pleasant burning sensation with his touch. 

doll? gosh, this man is non-stop.

“the first time i saw you in the neighborhood, i couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are,” he compliments, the words tumbling from his lips in the same charming manner in which they always do. 

he allows his hand to inch up your skin, fingers fluttering across your skin as he offers the flesh of your thigh a light squeeze. 

his eyes falter momentarily to watch your flesh cushion around his fingers, but he regains his firm, locked gaze. “you’re such a beautiful, beautiful, sweet girl… it really shocks me to hear that you’re single, but…” 

the distance between the two of you shrinks as he leans closer, breaking his stubborn gaze to speak against your ear. 

“would you let me be the one to change things?” he urges, his breath warming your ear, while sending shivers to travel down your spine simultaneously. 

what? you could hardly grasp the belief that this was reality, real life, he’s really asking you this question right now. you only spent a little over a week pining for your much older neighbor, yet here he was, in your home, making you aware of his reciprocated admiration without a hint of subtlety. 

“y-yes, sunghoon…” you mutter, somehow discovering a way to form words despite the wildly intense thrumming in your chest. 

his hand sweeps your hair from your shoulder, revealing your neck to him, and his middle finger traces along your jaw, tilting your head up a bit in the process. his fingers crawl to the back of your neck, still resting halfway against your jaw, dragging your face toward his.

“thought so, darling.”

his lips meld with yours, capturing your lips with his own, creating a rhythm which you matched enthusiastically. as though his hunger was beginning to struggle against the seams, his hand flies up skin of your thigh, squishing a greedy handful of your flesh.

his tongue slithers tauntingly along the seam of your lips, hardly waiting until you part your lips to shove his tongue inside of your mouth. he explores your mouth as though he was searching for something, seducing your tongue into an eager dance with his own.

garnering every bit of restraint from every tendril of his body, he parts from you, his nose gliding along your cheek. 

“how far do you wanna take this, doll?” he breathes out, his voice littered with arousal and restlessness. the rasp in his voice gives way to just how narrowly he’s managing to control his impulses. 

“as far as you wanna go, sunghoon…” you murmur feebly, inviting every unfettered bit of him to demolish you. 

a sound resembling a growl rumbles in his throat, and he lays back against the couch, pulling your body on top of his. as you begin to adjust, his large, veined hands glide along your back until he grips a generous handful of your rear. his tongue skates along the sharp line of your jaw, and he begins to treat the flesh of your ass, ardently squeezing and kneading underneath the pleat of your skirt. 

“you know how much i’ve been staring at this ass, darling?” he inquires rhetorically, one of his hands leaving your flesh to land a smack there, though he quickly returns to the kneading that he cannot seem to get enough of.

his hands reluctantly leave your ass, and he begins to lift your top over your head. he pats your bottom, instructing you to stand up, observing with awe as you pull your skirt and panties down without a single word from him. 

he rids himself hurriedly of his own clothes – tossing his shirt aside and abandoning his pants and boxers in tandem, not sparing a glance in their direction as they fall onto the floor. 

just as the final contents of his clothing reach the floor, you allow your unclasped bra to join them, before returning to your seat in sunghoon’s lap. 

sunghoon’s hands reach for your hips before you can fully settle yourself, and he watches in stunned admiration as a string of your arousal gushes from your drenched, lavish pussy, dripping onto his aching cock as though extending an invitation. 

“fuck,” he breathes out, his heavy eyes unable to tear away from the sight of you. his cock twitches powerfully from the subtle stimulation he received from your lavish arousal, and he removes a hand from your hip to stroke his cock, spreading the gift your pussy graced him with over his length.

“you get this wet just from being around me? god, you’re filthy, doll…” he tells you, thoroughly enjoying your shamelessness, and the plentiful flow of arousal you were offering him. 

the temperature in your face rises, but before you can truly react to his words, he begins to lower your body onto his cock, filling your leaking pussy with his daunting girth. a groan escapes him as you engulf him, flooding his cock with such a luscious, warm wetness that he can’t wrap his mind around. 

your feverish moan reaches his ears, and your hands grip onto his own, as though telling him ‘wait, let me get used to this…’ – sunghoon doesn’t allow you any amenities, though.

“goddamn you’re wet…” he announces, grunting at the snugness of your realm of warmth surrounding him. a sensation he had suffered deprivation from for so long, but now he’s finally indulging in it, finally sliding his cock into you. now that he’s captivated you, however, he doesn’t think he’ll ever want to miss out on the feeling of being encompassed by you.

all of your reasonable judgment was easily forsaken, and all you desired was to learn and memorize the feeling of his length inside of you.

“f-fuck, hoon!” you wail, as the rhythm of him fucking you onto his cock begins to overflow from your body, the squeeze of his hands against your hips as he guides you up and down only pleasuring you even further.

“mhm… there it is… let it out, my sweet girl,” he encourages hoarsely, any sound and syllable that falls from your lips a pleasant melody for his wicked ears. 

at the sound of your goading cries, sunghoon’s pace hastens, his hips bucking his cock further into you as he forces your hips down to meet every merciless passing of his length through your warm, glistening spring. he’s unfaltering in his movements, sending your body and his own to such astonishing heights of euphoric delight. 

as unimaginable as it seemed, sunghoon intensifies the sheer enchantment he was bestowing onto you as he leans forward, capturing your nipple with his mouth, suckling as his tongue glides over the nub in a gentle caress. 

your cries, moans, and whines only blend pitifully into unintelligible sobs, convoluted pleas of “oh god, oh fuck!” floating from your quivering lips, pouring an abundance of sinful satisfaction onto sunghoon’s body. good god, you’re just heaven to him.

“gonna cum now, sweet girl?” he inquires in a dark breath, detaching his lips from your nipple only to begin suckling the other one, his clenching hand on your hip allowing his thumb to begin circling your fluttering clit. 

your body can’t even conduct an action as simple as a nod, yet the way your body begins to tremble, and the way your helpless hands latch onto his shoulders in a form of nonverbal begging tells him all he needs to know. he exhales with a chuckle as your tears of devastating pleasure begin to fall onto his chest.

“you crying, doll? it’s just sex, i’ve got you…”

obliterating the sentiment of his sweet yet condescending words, his leg bends, allowing him to brace one of his feet against the couch cushion, and he brutalizes his pace of plunges into your pussy. his cock stimulates places inside of you far beyond the range of anything you could ever hope to even imagine.

you know you can’t hold out any longer as a wave of incomprehensible bliss coats your body, hazing your senses and your vision, your shuddering body absolutely staggered as the pleasure he provided showers you in a fountain of violent hysteria.

his hands tense around your hips, deft fingers constricting around your flesh as he compels your body into meeting flush against his own, luscious grinds and ruts into your flowing pussy suffocating him in a pit of pleasure, completely drowning every crevice of his body. though he’s enamored with this form of drowning, as long as it’s you submerging him. he floods you in return, spilling a stream of his cum inside of you, sharing his surging pleasure with you. 

he meets your eyes, locking his stare to yours as he cums. “mmm… yea, fuck, darling… look at me while i’m fucking you…” he mutters with gruff timbre, his mouth falling open, bordering on delirium. 

allowing the both of you a few moments to regain your breath and search for your composure, his veined hand coasts along your back, his breaths resounding heavily in his chest and lifting your delicate, fatigued body. 

“can’t believe i’ve been missing out on all that, sweetheart… i think i like you needy,” he casually informs you, scattering a few wispy kisses across you shoulder. 

he lifts your body off his cock, a soft grunt passing his lips as he leans up from the couch, cradling your weary frame in his arms, the mess of your combined clothing receiving neglect – save for the devious way he crouches down to slip your thong into the pocket of his discarded pants. 

“so, darling…” he begins, his body striding toward the direction of your staircase. “where’s your shower?”

you don’t even pretend to resist the urge to rest your head against his bare shoulder, you wouldn’t ever dare to resist any urge you felt towards him anymore. 

“last door on the left,” you relent, voice nearly too weak to carry to his ears. 

a soft chuckle vibrates in his chest, tickling your skin as he ascends the stairs toward the destination you directed him in. 

“so what about you, sunghoon?” you query, hushed voice still unable to conceal your curiosity. 

he places you onto the bathroom sink, allowing your legs to dangle, gripping the counter on either side or your thighs. he leans a touch closer, his stark features even more apparent, now. 

“hm? what about me, sweet girl?” he responds fondly, his expression twinkling with tender admiration.

your legs swing faintly, creating a bump, bump, bumping from your bare heels.

“i mean… have you dated anyone recently? or… are you seeing anyone now?” 

the fondness in his expression intensifies, and a tranquil smile wanders across his face. he couldn’t quite say that he wasn’t expecting the question, but his eyebrows lifted nonetheless – in an almost pleased manner.

“no, darling, i… i haven’t dated anyone in a while,” he reveals honestly, another chuckle following soon after in preparation of his next words. 

“...and no, i’m not seeing anyone now. don’t i strike you as a loyal man?” he teases gently, flashing you a charming smile, those familiar sharp canines revealing themselves again.

a giggle erupts from your lips, and you send him a playfully skeptical look. 

“don’t smile at me like that. aren’t you a little too old to be playing that ‘i’m cute’ card?” 

a husky chuckle emerges from his lips at your mischievous response, and his hand travels to your hip to grant a squeeze. 

“cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he observes, shortening the distance between your faces even further.

he pauses for a fleeting moment before continuing, a casual, relaxed smile returning to his features. 

“i’ve gotta say, darling… i really wanna spend a lot more time with you,” he adds, his fingers dancing along the smooth skin of your cheek. his doting gaze does little to conceal the thoughts running unabashedly through his mind. from the moment he saw you, it’s like he was met with a certain clarity he’d never realized before. he can’t quite find the words, but he knows he’s unwavering in his desire to continue drawing you closer to him. now that he’s gotten you this close, he can’t afford to lose or waste a single moment.

“now,” he announces, his voice interrupting the rampant thoughts in both of your minds. he lifts your body from your sitting position, allowing you to steady yourself on your feet, before whirling you around and bending your body over the counter.

“you don’t think we’re done here yet, do you, darling? you think i’ll give my sweet girl a break that easily?”

my sweet girl? the impending frenzy in your mind is thrown into delay, replaced by surging arousal as his hands run down the course of your back, his touch almost like a torch across your skin. 

he allows his eyes to immerse themselves in your prone form, before leaning down to sink his teeth in the flesh of your ass – the sharp edges of his canines nearly breaking your skin. 

as you gasp, and snap your head behind you to gaze at him, he runs his tongue over the mark he created, expressing his appreciation with a grin.

“mine, now.”

[hauntedbydreams]

imagine Vi with a gf that will do drastic things to their appearance and not mention it- like reader just shows up with new piercings, haircut, nail set etc and just plays it off to mess w/ her

"I've always had those wym?" "It was just a trim idk what you're saying"

Ok I’m obsessed w this idea bc it’s literally me, I shave and dye my hair every month and don’t realize ppl can’t recognize me when they don’t see me every few weeks, oopsi. This also ended up being very self indulgent BECAUSE I GOT A TATTOO OF VI’s NAME ON MY LOWER NAVEL 😌 I’m so down bad for her it’s not even funny (this IS a photo of MY tattoo so plz just lmk if ur gonna use it for anything)

Anyway hope u like this! (And thank u for my first Vi ask!!) requests/asks are always open!

Lil suggestive at the end but nothing too crazy I’d say…

Vi loves that you’re so all over the place, it makes her feel like you’re always changing and it’s kinda why she fell for you in the first place.

But she was not prepared for the amount of drastic appearance changes you bombard her with on a monthly basis.

You’ll show up with a random new hair color one day, walking into the gym she works at to drop off her lunch. Just strutting into the place, so nonchalantly, like there’s absolutely nothing new when in fact your hair went from brown to black with bright green highlights.

Vi’s at the reception about to head to the back with a new client when she sees you. She doesn’t even register that it’s you at first and her jaw only drops when she does a double take.

“Hey honey” you say in your regular loving tone.

“Uhh… Hi.. uh- hi baby?” Vi’s so confused but you just look at her innocently and bat your lashes. “I brought you lunch!”

“I see that” Vi looks down at the bag you dropped on the counter and leans over to kiss you on the cheek quickly. “I also see you’ve got a new hairstyle?”

You look at her surprised, “oh this?” you’re picking up strands of hair twisting them around your fingers absentmindedly “yeah I guess…”

“You guess?!?” she stares at you incredulously “it’s quite a big change cupcake!”

You fake being hurt and pretend dramatically, placing a hand your heart “So you don’t like it?”

“No, no, no! I didn’t say that! I just meant it’s so different!” Vi’s reaching over to run her fingers through your hair “I really like it”

“It’s really not that different Vi, just added the green” you brush it off, messing with her a little.

Vi swears your hair was brown and not black but she just shrugs, “as long as you’re happy!”

Then one day you’re off work early and you walk by this piercing shop every day on your way home. You’ve got a few piercings on your ears and that one on your belly button that Vi adores, but you’ve been wanting a septum for a while.

So before you can convince yourself otherwise you’re walking out of the piercing studio with a fresh silver ring in your nose.

You walk into your apartment met with the sound of Vi playing video games on the couch. Swooping down you attempt to give her a peck on the lips while she moves her head around your figure trying to see the screen “Hi Angel… one sec I just have to pass this level, then I promise I’m all yours”

You let her be and go to quickly clean your brand new piercing before she’s done with her gaming.

Later you guys are making dinner together and Violet can’t help but notice the silver ring glittering above your top lip when it catches the light. To be fair, Vi is always staring at your lips anyway, so it’s not like she really wasn’t gonna notice a piercing right above them.

“Uhhh hey babe?”

“Yeah Vi?”

“Did you always have that septum piercing?”

“Mhm” you’re humming absentmindedly as you stir something on the stove.

Violet can’t think straight, cause is she that distracted and so down bad that she didn’t notice her beautiful girlfriend had a septum piercing?!? Or is this another one of your “what do you mean I didn’t change anything!” moments like when you showed up with dyed hair and pretended it was the exact same or when you got new nails done and told her you’d been wearing them for weeks…

She swears you messing with her like this is gonna be the death of her, but… she’d never complain.

Nothing prepares Vi for your next drastic move though, cause she goes absolutely feral when u show her the tattoo u got of her name on ur lower navel.

Oh no. You’re done for. Cause she’s almost quite literally on her knees drooling, staring up at you with big blue eyes and you know she’s about to jump your bones and never let you go.

Vi knew you were going in for a tattoo appointment that day. But what she didn’t know is that you decided to surprise her with a little “VI”, the same one she has on her face, but in ink the color of her hair. The deep fuchsia pink you love.

So when you come home from your tattoo appointment, Vi thinks you just went for the bigger piece you got on your leg. So she jumps from the couch as soon as she hears you entering your apartment “Hey! you’re back!” and she’s running down the hall kneeling at your legs, lifting your trousers to see the new piece with an excited “Lemme see!!!”

You’re just as excited and giggle while she admires the work. But you keep ur mouth shut and don’t say a word about the little surprise tattoo you have of her name just above your panty line.

“It’s so cool! I love the colors and it’s so much bigger than I thought you’d go for! I love it!” Vi’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Did it hurt? You were at the studio for a while…”

“Nah it wasn’t too bad, plus the artist was so gentle and it’s not like it’s my first rodeo Vi.” You’re rolling your eyes at her concern and she’s standing back up pulling you in for a long kiss.

“I’m gonna go unwrap the tattoo foil and wash the new ink, are you ok to start dinner hon?” You yell into the kitchen as you walk toward the bathroom. “Yeah! In a minute!”

Before you’ve even finished undressing to hop in the shower, Vi’s bursting into the bathroom claiming she needs to wash her hands before cooking. (but you both know there’s a perfectly good sink in the kitchen and she just loves barging in on you in the shower).

She’s smirking as she leans on the side of the sink “Cute panties”

You look down and immediately cover your face in embarrassment realizing you’re wearing high waisted flower-patterned cottons. It’s not your usual choice and they’re kinda reserved for shark week cause you don’t think they’re cute, but it was your best option for getting a lower navel tattoo and making sure it didn’t get irritated. “Stahppp Vi, I had to wea-“ you catch yourself before you can tell Vi about the tattoo.

She’s already sauntering over to you her hands finding their place on your bare waist making you shiver. “I don’t know… I still think they’re kinda cute..” Vi trails off as her fingers dig under the band and slowly lower it.

You’re waiting in anticipation for her to notice the tattoo at any moment, and then she does.

Her eyes go wide the second she sees it. You swear you can see her brain reset to factory settings and her mind go blank.

She doesn’t know what to say or do. Sliding down to the ground, shes now on her knees in front of you, hands on your hips holding the band of your panties down with her thumbs as she just stares at the little fuchsia pink “VI” on your lower navel.

“Vi?” You try gently, dragging the word out like a question.

“Hmm?” She’s not looking at you, just staring at the tattoo of her name on your body as she swallows hard. “Fuck Angel, fuck… is that… is that my name, sweetheart?” She’s biting her lip inhaling and ur nodding a happy “mhm” down at her.

Something short circuits in her then. The way her name is permanently on your skin. The way her name on you marks you as hers. She’s breathing heavy.

She thinks she’s drooling but she doesn’t care. She’s focusing her pretty blue eyes up on you now. You cup her face and try to play it off like you usually do, teasing her with your big appearance changes, teasing her “Oh, I’ve totally always had thi-“

Before you can finish she’s up, kissing you hungrily, her hands on your waist and the side of your neck, crowding you against the sink. Your breath hitches as you notice the glimmer in her eye and you can barely contain a little gasp when Vi’s thigh slides between yours.

“Don’t bullshit me Angel, we both know you haven’t always had a tattoo of MY name-“ she’s brushing her fingers across the fresh lettering, making you wince “-especially not here of all places.”

She’s kissing your neck, sucking on the soft skin leaving marks everywhere, slowly making her way down your body. Your hands are in her hair as she reaches your navel. She’s kissing everywhere but the tattoo, stopping to say a few words in between light pecks and little kitten licks “Fuck sweetheart… mmh, I can’t believe… you, fuck… got my… name tatted… ugh.. fuck” her voice trails off sounding so thick and needy. She’s looking up at you through her lashes and you know you’re done for.

You whimper and Vi’s vision goes fuzzy. Forget the shower, forget dinner, she’s carrying you to the nearest bed… so she can look at her name on your skin while she makes you scream it.

[greeneyeofenvy]

old art again

idk for any od their names

[doubleedgemode]

The Dandy with his Hand on his chest

I wanted to do a big piece before the month ended and I had been thinking on drawing a study of "The Nobleman with his Hand on his Chest" by El Greco with Slayer for a good while, because I adore that painting and believe it fits him, since it has a mysterious yet noble aura to me. Very dandy!

I love Slayer's Rev2 Color 4, so I got really happy when it returned as Color 10 in Strive, now with a very stylish nail polish, too.

[just-aake]

Detecting Love Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Detecting Love. Can a spy who's been trained to lie her entire life show the person with the power to detect lies the truth what it means to be loved?

Warnings: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 5171

Natasha Romanoff lies.

Now, that’s to be expected, considering she is one of the greatest spies in the world. Ever since she was a child, she has been trained to be able to deceive everyone she meets.

Lying comes as easily to her as breathing, and deception is woven into every fiber of her being.

A charming smile here. A flirty wink there. 

Sweet words flow from her lips like honey.

Making everyone fall in love with all of the different false personas that she created for herself.

With a life and a past as shadowed as hers, it makes sense why she never even dared to imagine finding a person who can tolerate, let alone embrace, someone like her.

Then, she met you.

With your unique power to literally see through lies, you can detect the truth from her even when she’s at her most convincing. And despite learning about who she was and how she is, you accepted her unconditionally, not just as a friend, but as a partner.

For Natasha, being with someone who can truly see her is scary, and yet, that feeling is also better than breathing itself.

The two of you have been dating for several months now, and Natasha has never been happier.

Even if she sometimes occasionally struggles to express her affection openly in public.

As the two of you stroll through the compound, her eyes drift down once again in contemplation to your hand swinging casually at your side.

As if sensing her silent deliberation, you suddenly ask her curiously.

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

Natasha straightens at your question and faces forward, responding promptly in an even tone, “No.” 

Now that is sure to sound honest to anyone else who heard it, but you’re different.

Natasha makes sure to trail back slightly behind your line of sight in an attempt to hide the glow she knows you’d probably see around her.

You don’t comment on her evading action, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you maintain your pace toward the Avenger’s personal elevator.

The two of you stand side by side, waiting for the elevator to arrive when Natasha suddenly feels the back of your hand lightly graze her fingers before quickly pulling away.

She narrows her eyes in suspicion at you, but you maintain an innocent expression, your gaze fixed on the decreasing numbers above the elevator doors.

Facing forward once more, Natasha is about to dismiss the action as an accidental touch when she feels it again – the fleeting brush of your hand against hers. 

This time, she doesn't hesitate to shoot you an accusing stare. Yet, you continue to feign ignorance, your expression a perfect mask of innocence. 

A couple of seconds pass before your hand makes contact with hers for the third time. 

Before you can retract your hand, Natasha swiftly catches it and intertwines your fingers with hers before letting out a defeated huff.

You don’t utter a word about her actions, but a subtle smile curves your lips, exposing your amusement at her reaction. 

With a soft squeeze of her hand, you pull her into the elevator, the door closing shut behind the two of you.

It's moments like these that remind Natasha why she fell for you — your ability to see past her lies, even the most trivial ones.

Once the elevator door slides open to the private floor, the two of you are met with sounds of a heated argument between the Asgardian Avenger and his visiting brother.

“I know you did it, Loki! This is not the first time you’ve taken and hidden a treasure of mine!”

“Oh, would you stop being so dramatic? We're talking about a mug, not some enchanted artifact.”

You raise a questioning brow at her, silently asking her whether you two should come back at another time, but Natasha shakes her head resolutely in response, not willing to let anything prevent her from missing her morning coffee.

As the two of you walk past the brothers, Thor finally notices the new presence in the room.

“Y/n!” he calls excitedly. 

His hand lands on your shoulder, catching you in place between the two of them which in turn pulls your hand from her grasp.

Thor’s other hand points accusingly at his brother.

“Is Loki lying about taking my mug?”

Realizing that you’re being dragged into the middle of the argument, your eyes dart to Natasha for help, only for her to give you a thumbs up in encouragement as she takes a sip of the coffee that she just poured from the freshly made pot.

The other Asgardian crosses his arms and snickers derisively at his brother.

“Do you really think that this simple mortal can expose the literal god of mischief? I didn’t take your stupid mug, and she can’t prove any—”

“He’s lying,” you answer plainly, seeing the red aura surrounding the Asgardian.

Loki shuts his mouth in surprise, blinking at you for a moment in disbelief, before pointing at you with a disdainful look.

“I don’t like her,” he states bluntly.

“Ah ha!” Thor exclaims victoriously. “You did take it!”

The two continue with their arguing as you discreetly sneak away to Natasha’s side.

She hands you a cup of coffee which you accept with a soft thanks before an alarm on your phone rings, showing your reminder for the day. 

You groan lightly in disappointment, causing Natasha to raise a questioning brow at you as she raises her cup for another sip.

“I have some interviews to get to this morning, so I’ll have to see you later,” you tell her before pressing a quick kiss goodbye to her cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper against her skin.

Swallowing her sip quickly, Natasha turns her head towards your direction, the reciprocating words also on her tongue.

“I—”

But you’ve already rushed away around the corner, disappearing from view. 

“…love you too,” Natasha finishes in a soft disappointed tone, her lips twisting at your action. 

Public displays of affection aside, Natasha has no problem wanting to tell you how much you mean to her.

But for some reason, you always seem to conveniently find ways to escape whenever she’s about to say those words to you.

“Now I’m no expert on relationships, but that right there was some cunning evasion tactic,” Loki comments, smirking at Natasha. “It appears that she’s not really interested in receiving such words from you.”

A slap on Loki's shoulder propels him forward a couple of steps as Thor reprimands, “Stop trying to cause problems for them, Loki.” 

He then turns to Natasha with a firm nod. 

“Don’t listen to him, Nat. Y/n loves you.”

Of course, she knows that. 

You whisper those words against her skin every morning when you think she’s still asleep and then again against her lips when you wake her up. 

The problem is that it seems that she never gets the chance to return the gesture before you find some way to rush away from the room or keep her mouth otherwise occupied and distracted.

A thud on the counter pulls her from her thoughts as Loki leans against the table with a mischievous grin.

“That girl can detect lies, right? Then why don’t you just tell her that you don’t love her, and then she’ll see the truth. That should be easy enough for you. After all, lying is your specialty,” Loki remarks before a smug expression forms on his face. 

“Unless that is, the truth is that you don’t actually love her,” he taunts.

Natasha glares at him silently, refusing to fall for his baiting provocation. Not wanting to give the trickster god any more amusement, she quickly downs the rest of her coffee and leaves for the meeting room, deciding to try again with you later.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

With the briefing finishing early, Natasha decides to visit your office during this break in between her meetings. Conversations flow around her as she walks past the front desk toward the administrative part of the building.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t let you enter without an appointment.”

“Well, is there any way you can just send a message to Y/n to let her know I’m here?”

Natasha’s head snaps up from her tablet at the sound of your name and curiously turns to the person who said it, only for her eyes to widen slightly in surprise at their identity.

Your ex-fiancée 

Stopping in her tracks, Natasha redirects her attention to the two of them.

“What did you need to see Y/n for?” she asks.

Your ex turns to her at her question, and an expression of amazement crosses her face.

“Oh, wow, you’re Black Widow.”

Brushing off her awed exclamation, Natasha crosses her arm expectantly as she repeats, a slight tone of protectiveness entering her voice.

“Why are you looking for Y/n?” 

Noticing her serious gaze and intimidating demeanor, your ex fidgets with her hands nervously as she responds.

“It’s kind of a private matter with an old case that I need her help with,” she explains.

Despite being the one who broke your heart, your mutual break up with her meant that the two of you are still somewhat friends, and as much as Natasha wants to, she can’t prevent your ex from seeking you out, especially since it seems she needs your help.

With an internal displeased sigh, Natasha gestures with her head towards the direction of the elevators.

“I’m heading over to her office right now if you want to come with me,” Natasha offers, nodding at the receptionist reassuringly to indicate that it’s okay, before walking away without another word. 

Natasha hears your ex scramble to follow quickly after her once she processes her words.

As the elevator doors close with the two of them inside, Natasha pulls out her phone to send you a warning text.

I’m on the way to your office with your ex.

A read message quickly appears under her text, indicating that you have seen it, and then a text bubble promptly pops up as you respond.

?!?!?

“So, do you and Y/n work together often?” your ex asks, trying to fill the silence with casual conversation.

Natasha looks up at her question, tucking her phone away. She crosses her arms and leans back against the elevator walls, adopting an intimidating posture, as she gives her a hard stare.

With a calm yet assertive tone, she tilts her head curtly and replies with the truth. 

“She’s my girlfriend.”

An awkward silence fills the small space after her answer, and your ex’s eyes dart around the enclosed space, seemingly realizing she’s essentially alone with the Black Widow who just revealed that she is in a relationship with you. 

Sensing her nervous energy, Natasha relaxes her posture, offering a more friendly demeanor.

“Relax, if I was going to do something, I would have done it already,” Natasha reassures. 

Your ex nods hesitantly, acknowledging Natasha’s attempt to diffuse the tension. After a moment of contemplation, she gathers the courage to speak up again. 

“So, you know about Y/n and her ability?” your ex asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, adding, “And about what happened between the two of you.”

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, plunging the elevator into an uncomfortable silence once again. 

Honestly, Natasha knows she shouldn’t keep putting your ex in these awkward positions with her responses. 

However, just because you are on friendly terms with her doesn’t mean Natasha has to be, especially considering she never held any goodwill toward the woman before.

Natasha redirects her focus to the digital display above the door, silently cursing and blaming Tony for the sluggish pace of the elevator. 

“I-I honestly did love her,” your ex confesses, breaking the silence once again.

At her statement, Natasha regards her with a raised eyebrow, silently prompting her to elaborate on her sudden declaration.

"I mean, Y/n’s great. It’s just…it got hard to imagine being with someone who always knows if you’re telling the truth or not,” your ex explains with a small sigh, offering a tiny sympathetic shrug before asking. “I’m sure you understand that feeling too, right?"

Irritation flares in Natasha’s chest at your ex’s words, her protective instincts surfacing in defense of you.

"Maybe the fact that she can see someone for who they truly are is what makes being with her so special," Natasha counters, her voice firm with conviction.

The remainder of the elevator ride passes in tense silence until the doors finally open with a ding, signaling their arrival at your floor. 

Throughout that time, one part of the conversation continues to bother Natasha, and she finds herself asking, wanting to know the answer.

“Did you tell her often?”

“What?” your ex asks, blinking in surprise and caught off guard by her sudden question. 

Natasha presses her lips together momentarily in displeasure at the topic before clarifying, “Did you tell Y/n that you loved her often, you know, before your feelings changed?”

“Oh, um, kind of,” she admits, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. “It’s actually kind of funny. Y/n would always have this cute little shy smile whenever I said it, so I ended up saying those words to her a lot.”

The irritation in Natasha’s chest intensifies at her answer, and her feelings must be evident on her face because your ex starts waving her hands frantically in a slight panic.

“But I’m positive Y/n won’t react the same way if I said it now,” she adds quickly.

Instead of responding, Natasha leaves the elevator without another word. 

Your ex’s reassurance does little to ease the irritation that she feels at not yet having been able to say those words to you herself.

The two of them arrive at the door of your office, only to find it locked with the lights turned off.

Just as Natasha is about to text you to ask you about your whereabouts, you emerge from around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of her.

Confused at your flustered state, Natasha gives you a questioning look as she asks, “Why are you rushing?”

You take a couple of deep breaths to catch your breath before answering.

“Because…I didn’t want to…to leave you waiting.”

Natasha feels her heart flutter at your words, her posture relaxing for a moment.

“…wow…you look good, Y/n,” your ex comments.

Natasha’s body immediately tenses again at the reminder of your ex’s presence, and she becomes further annoyed when she takes in the state of your appearance that prompted the remark from your ex.

You are in your usual workout outfit, a standard black tank top, showcasing your body with a gleam of sweat still on your skin, evidence of your workout session.

As if sensing Natasha’s increasing irritation, your ex gestures awkwardly in fear toward the waiting area some distance away.

“I’ll just wait over there.”

Natasha watches your ex walk away with a slight glare in her eyes. 

When she turns back to you, her expression instinctively softens with affection and curiosity.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“My last couple of interviews had to cancel, so I decided to go train for a bit,” you answer with a slight shrug. “You know, since you suggested that I try training whenever I’m bored and have some free time.”

Natasha's lips twist slightly in conflict at your response. She's happy you took her suggestion to heart, but now she's also upset that it led to you appearing in front of your ex in such a state.

Gesturing toward your ex, you ask, “Did she say why she’s here?”

Natasha sighs and shakes her head.

“She only mentioned that it was an old case that you can help her with.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding in understanding, probably already knowing what she’s referring to. 

Then you look at Natasha with a cute tilt of your head. 

“After I finish up with her, do you want to go out for some lunch?”

A small smile forms on Natasha’s face, her earlier irritation melting away at your suggestion. 

However, she knows she might not have enough time to wait and go out before her next meeting.

“How about I go ahead and pick up some takeout first, and then we can have lunch in your office when I return?” Natasha offers as a compromise.

You smile at her in response and press a soft kiss against her cheek.

“It’s a date.”

As you’re about to move past her, Natasha presses her hand firmly on your shoulder, stopping you and pushing you back to your original position.

You give her a questioning look in confusion.

“Did you take my hoodie again?” Natasha asks accusingly. 

Your eyes dart guiltily to your office before you mutter under your breath with a soft pout, “Maybe.”

Natasha nods slightly in contemplation, her eyes glancing at where your ex was waiting and then back to you.

“Put it on,” she says plainly.

You raise a brow at her in confusion and gesture to your body.

“Nat, I’m covered in sweat. I didn’t get a chance to hit the showers before you texted,” you explain.

“That text didn’t mean that you should come here all hot and sweaty in front of your ex like this,” Natasha remarks pointedly, crossing her arms.

A teasing grin pulls at your lips as a look of understanding crosses your face.

“You think I look hot right now?” you ask happily.

“Seriously?” Natasha deadpans. 

Unbothered by her signature intimidating gaze, you pull her closer by the loops on her belt and lean in with a slight tilt of your head.

“Are you jealous?” you tease lightly, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you try to hide your pleased grin.

Natasha rolls her eyes, though her lips quirk up briefly in amusement. She knows whether she responds truthfully or not, you probably already know the answer without the help of your ability, so she responds instead.

“Keep it up, and I’ll just come back with one takeout box for myself,” she warns.

You laugh lightly at her response, nodding your head in concession.

“Alright, I’ll put it on,” you promise, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

As you pull away, you whisper, “I love you,” the words brushing softly against her lips.

Natasha’s eyes had fluttered closed at the touch of your kiss, but they snapped open when she remembered she wanted to say those words back to you too.

However, to her disappointment, before she realized it, you had disappeared from her side. 

Turning around, she finds you already in your office, putting on her hoodie.

A mocking chuckle sounds beside her, and she turns to see Loki leaning casually against the wall.

“Oh, you didn’t even try that time,” he taunts.

Without hesitation, Natasha raises her wrist and shoots a widow bite at him. It flies through his body, dispersing the apparition that he had left there.

Groaning in annoyance at his presence, Natasha quickly leaves to go get your lunches before he can reappear and provoke her further.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So this is the one lie detector that you can’t beat,” Fury comments with intrigue, as he examines your file.

Natasha closes the folder promptly and takes it from the table in front of him, stating firmly, “Her name’s Y/n, and no, you can’t have her. She’s just going to help review the list of potential recruits for you. Nothing else.”

She gives him a pointed look, stressing, “Especially not any SHIELD interrogations.”

Leaning back in his chair, Fury chuckles amusedly and raises a brow at her.

“Protective, are we?”

Before she can affirm the lengths she would go to minimize the risks you have to take, the door slams open, and you stroll in, giving her a wave and a charming smile. 

You stop in front of her, taking her hand suddenly in yours and giving it a light swing. 

“Ready to get started?” you ask. 

Natasha’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Something about your behavior was off and unlike you. 

She examines your expression critically, and then in one swift, fluid motion, she grabs your wrist and upper arm, pivots on her heel, and shifts her weight, seamlessly flipping you over her shoulder. 

With a resounding thud, Natasha slams you down onto the meeting table, the impact rattling the room.

Fury whistles lowly with a slight wince, a mixture of sympathy and admiration in his tone.

“Tough love, huh?” he remarks to her.

Natasha rolls her eyes at his comment and shakes her head, reaching to her side to grab something. She takes one of “your” wrists and snaps a golden cuff onto it. 

Immediately, the figure on the table shifts from your face and form to Loki’s. 

His eyes glare at her as he gathers his bearings, giving a slight grunt of pain when he moves.

“As if this woman knows anything about love,” he scoffs, standing up from the table with a groan.

Fury hums curiously at the sight of the trickster god, turning to Natasha.

“Who let him in here?”

Natasha sighs as she crosses her arms, replying, “Unfortunately, Thor and he are on friendly terms at the moment.”

Loki raises his hand and waves his finger at her in reprimand.

“Exactly. Now, is this any way to treat a guest of yours?” he taunts with a smirk before his eyes drift to the cuff on his wrist. His expression falls in recognition. “Where did you get this?”

A smirk forms on Natasha’s face as she answers, “Thor lent it to me when I asked. Since I know better than to just take his things.”

The cuff in question is an enchanted artifact that temporarily blocks the magical abilities of the wearer as explained by the god of thunder.

Loki scoffs in disbelief, placing one hand on his hips while waving his other wrist at her. 

“Hilarious, now take these off,” he demands.

Natasha’s smirk remains fixed as she shakes her head.

“I don’t have the key,” she admits, tapping her chin thoughtfully before revealing, “It must still be with Thor. But I’m sure you’ve already apologized to him for earlier, so you’d have no problem asking him to release you.”

Loki scowls, his expression darkening with disdain, and then he swiftly turns toward the exit.

“It’s no wonder that girl doesn’t want to accept any love from the likes of you,” he spits out angrily.

Natasha’s lips twist downward at his words, but before she can respond, a knock on the door interrupts the tense moment. 

Taking a calming breath, she calls out, “Come in,” already knowing who it is.

You open the door at Natasha’s invitation, only to dodge out of the way as Loki storms past you out of the room, muttering angry curses under his breath.

Turning back to Natasha, you notice the telltale red aura fading from around her and wonder what was the lie that you assume she had just told him.

As you approach her, Natasha’s contemplative, sullen expression quickly shifts to a neutral one when she catches your concerned gaze.

Before you can question her about it, Fury claps his hands firmly, looking between the two of you.

“Alright, let's finish this quickly then.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Seated on your sofa, Natasha hugs a cushion pillow closer to her chest, seeking comfort as Loki’s harsh words echo in her mind.

Is it just a coincidence that you manage to avoid her every time she’s about to say those words to you? Or is it possible that the truth is you don’t actually want to hear those words from her?

You place a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of her, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts as you finish explaining what your ex needed from you.

“So, I just need to submit my notes on the case so that the court can close it out,” you explain.

Natasha hums absently in acknowledgment, but her mind drifts back to her insecurities.

Was Loki just messing with her or were all of your previous evading actions really on purpose?

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Natasha decides to settle this once and for all.

As you take your seat next to her and start the movie, Natasha initiates her plan. She quickly maneuvers herself over your lap, straddling you as her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing you firmly against the sofa with her body.

Your hand automatically rests on her waist and begins tracing light patterns against her side, but your lips twist into a small pout of confusion as you remark, “As exciting as this is, I thought this movie was your favorite.”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly, internally groaning at your adorable words and how incredibly in love she is with you. 

If only you could hear it from her for once.

Determined to not fail this time, she tries again.

“I lo—”

Her words are cut off, swallowed by you, as you pull her down into a deep kiss. 

Instinctively, she melts against your body, sliding her hands to caress the back of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss as she gets lost in the feeling of your lips moving against hers. 

Then, realization hits her, and she snaps her eyes open and pulls away. 

“Hold on, I’m trying to tell you that I—”

“I know,” you interrupt, your hand covering her mouth to stop her mid-sentence. 

That’s when Natasha sees it.

The fear in your eyes.

“I know,” you repeat, giving her a look of understanding before swallowing nervously. 

You close your eyes as your head drops to your chest, a sad chuckle escaping from you. 

“You know, in all my life, I have never been afraid to discover if someone was lying to me,” you admit, shrugging lightly. “I’ve always known that people can lie, so it’s never really surprising or hurtful when it happens.” 

You let out a weary sigh and look up to meet her gaze with a sad smile. 

“Except for that one time.”

Natasha knows what moment you are referring to — the night your powers revealed that your ex no longer loved you.

The memory flashes in your mind, vivid and raw, as if it happened only yesterday. The betrayal, the heartache, the crushing realization when the red aura appeared around her after she uttered those fateful three words to you.

Your attention returns to the woman in front of you, the one who helped heal your heart. The one who now holds it. 

The one who also has the power to hurt you in the exact same way, even though you know she won’t.

“I love you so much, Natasha,” you say with breathless adoration and honesty, but your expression pinches in fear as you continue, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t think I'm ready to hear it from you yet. Just…not those exact words.”

You sigh sadly, understanding how unfair your words are to her, and your chest tightens guiltily as you apologize, “I’m sorry. Look, I’d understand if you want to leave.”

You look away from Natasha, your mouth pressing together tightly, fighting the urge to cry. 

The silence stretches out in the room before Natasha gently cradles your face, bringing your gaze back to her.

“You make me happy,” Natasha declares firmly.

You give her a confused look at her words.

“Wh-what?”

Ignoring your question, Natasha continues, asking meaningfully, “Am I lying?”

Your eyes observe her for a moment, but you don’t see any indication of a red aura appearing.

“No,” you answer in confusion.

Natasha nods before continuing, “I don’t mind that your powers reveal truths about me, like the moments when I want to hold your hand or when I’m jealous.”

She tilts her head at you in question.

“Am I lying?” she asks again.

Still not seeing any red aura appear around her, you shake your head at her in response.

Natasha rests her forehead against yours, letting out a deep breath, before continuing, “I’m afraid that one day…” she pauses, taking in a shaky breath to prepare herself for what she’s about to admit out loud. 

“…one day you’ll wake up and decide that because of who I was, who I am now is not enough for you to stay with me anymore.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you go to reassure her, “I wouldn’t—”

“Am I lying?” Natasha interrupts, not wanting you to worry about comforting her at this time.

Your eyes soften sadly when you see the vulnerability and fear in her eyes at her words. 

You reach up to cup her cheek, your thumb caressing her face gently in comfort as you whisper, “No.”

Leaning against your touch, Natasha lets out a steadying breath to compose herself for the final part of her point.

“So when I say I can wait…” she pauses, looking into your eyes with a serious and determined expression, making sure you can see the sincerity of her next words. 

“…I’ll wait for as long as you need so that one day I can say those words to you…am I lying?”

You watch her carefully for a moment, but nothing appears to counter her claim. Realizing her intentions to reveal her feelings in another way, your heart fills with love and adoration for her as you answer with a soft smile. 

“No, you’re not lying, Natasha.”

She gives you a gentle grin and cups your face, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before admitting, “That’s because when I’m with you, Y/n, it never feels like I’m living a lie.”

A breathless, awed gasp escapes from you at her words, and you can’t help but pull her in closer, her red hair falling around you like a curtain.

“I love you,” you whisper against her lips, the words filled with genuine adoration for the woman.

Natasha smiles softly at your words and closes the distance between the two of you once again, her kisses tender and filled with all of her unspoken feelings. Her lips move against yours with gentle urgency, conveying everything she can’t yet say aloud.

The warmth of her touch, the sincerity of her kiss, and the way she holds you protectively — all of it reassures you. 

It doesn’t matter that those three words haven’t been spoken explicitly — her actions, her presence, the look in her eyes says it all already.

Natasha may be considered one of the greatest spies in the world thanks in part to her exceptional ability to lie, but even she can’t hide the truth from you.

Without needing to hear her utter those fateful three words aloud, you already know the truth in your heart.

That Natasha Romanoff truly loves you too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for all the love that you all gave to the first part! I hope you enjoyed this one too!

[landososcar]

tacky tree ; MV1

pairing(s) ; dad!max verstappen x leclerc!reader

summary ; in which it’s the most wonderful time of the year and the house is almost completely decorated – except for the most important part.

warnings ; probably incorrect translations, tacky christmas tree because they’re more fun! no use of y/n. not edited.

note ; it’s christmas season 🎉this is the first fic in my 12 days of christmas series! the masterlist with more details on the upcoming stuff will be out later (when i plan it all out lollll) enjoyyyy

“papa, when do we get to decorate the tree?” his son’s voice grabbed max’s attention and he immediately set down the fairy lights he was desperately trying to untangle.

max was trying his hardest to unravel the ball of string lights but it proved to be a harder task than what he had initially thought. his son stood in front of where he was sitting on the couch, impatiently waiting for the ‘go ahead’ to start putting his favourite ornaments on the tree, and max had to explain that “we can’t decorate the tree until we put the lights on, jules”.

a groan left the six-year-old boy’s mouth, he had been looking forward to decorating the tree the most of all. “grand-mère would have had the lights ready ages ago!” jules loved complaining – max often said he got his love for it from his uncle charles, and there was no real argument to the statement.

max chuckled softly at jules’ exclamation. “grand-mère also doesn’t have to deal with your sister trying to eat the lights,” he replied, glancing toward the corner of the living room where his four-year-old daughter was crouched. she held a tangled string of lights in her tiny hands, inspecting them with great curiosity.

“not eating, papa! i’m testing!” sophia chirped, her cheeks flushed pink with the excitement of the holiday season.

jules groaned again, this time dramatically collapsing onto the couch beside his father. “but we’ll never finish in time for santa to see it!”

“santa doesn’t come to check the tree, jules. he comes for the cookies and milk,” max reminded him with a smirk, “and to give boys and girls their presents.” max raised his eyebrows towards his son before continuing, “but only good boys who are patient,” he paused before getting up to save sophia from being engulfed by fairy lights, picking her up and putting her on his hip, “and good girls who don’t eat the lights for the christmas tree.”

before jules could fire back a sassy remark that would have reminded his father far too much of the boy’s uncle, a soft voice interrupted them from the kitchen. “have the two verstappen boys fixed the lights, or should i send in reinforcements?”

max turned to see you leaning against the doorframe, a tray of freshly baked cookies balanced in your hands. your warm smile was framed by loose strands of hair that escaped your festive headband. before you could continue to tease your boys, the six-year-old yelped, “mama! tell papa to hurry!” jules pleaded, scrambling to your side.

you laughed and ruffled his hair, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “let’s see if mama can work her magic.”

handing jules a cookie to keep him occupied, you sat where max was previously attempting to fix the mess of lights, and reached for the tangled lights. your fingers moved easily through the wires as you worked to untangle the mess, the cozy christmas scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air.

“mama is so clever, isn’t she?” max murmured to the girl on his hip, watching your nimble hands make quick work of the lights. sophia nodded quickly before leaning towards the plate of cookies as best as she could. 

max noticed her attempt at thieving a cookie and endorsed it by leaning down, her body still flushed with hers as she reached with both her hands, snatching a cookie. before the girl could begin eating her cookie, max caused her to gasp as he took a small bite from the cookie in her tiny hands.

“mama’s like grand-mère!” jules shouted back, his eyes wide with admiration, “they can both do anything ‘cause they’re the best!” jules declared, his face lighting up with pride.

“careful, jules, if you keep saying things like that, you might just end up on the extra good list this year,” you teased, winking at him as he beamed.

within minutes, the lights were untangled, and you handed them back to max with a triumphant grin, scooping sophia into your arms in exchange. “voilà. now, get to it, boys,” you said, tickling sophia’s tummy to make her giggle before continuing, “while they do the lights, soph, let’s go find your favourite ornaments!”

sophia clapped her hands excitedly. “the sparkly star! and the reindeer!” she squealed, pointing toward the box of decorations.

before the two of you could walk off, max wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close, “i’ll admit, we’d be lost without you.” he left a kiss on your lips and both children protested.

“eww!” jules groaned, covering his eyes with both of his hands, while sophia, in dramatic fashion, pushed max’s face away with her tiny palms. “no kissies!”

laughing, you pried sophia’s hands off max’s face and carried her toward the decorations. “alright, no more kissies—let’s get this tree looking like a christmas masterpiece.”

while max and jules worked on stringing the lights around the tree (with jules shouting instructions that max tried valiantly to follow), you and sophia rummaged through the box of ornaments. “look, mama! it’s papa’s car!” sophia said, holding up an f1 car ornament painted in red bull’s signature colours.

you chuckled, taking the ornament from her little hands. “that’s right! should we put it somewhere special so everyone sees it?”

sophia nodded enthusiastically, and you carried her over to the tree. “papa drives that car!” she announced proudly before making ‘vroom vroom’ noises, earning both a loud chuckle and an approving grin from her father.

“do you think santa will like it?” jules asked as he passed max another strand of lights.

“i think santa will love it,” max replied. “it’s not every day you see a christmas tree with an f1 car on it.”

once the lights were up – though slightly uneven, thanks to jules’ ‘supervising’ – it was time for the ornaments. sophia insisted on placing all the sparkliest ones together in one spot, while jules picked the funniest ones, like a snowman with sunglasses and a gingerbread man with only one arm.

“you know,” max began as he hung a cat ornament that similarly resembled one of their three fur children, “some people call this a tacky tree, but i call it... creative.” jules passed the other two cat ornaments to max, insisting that they need to be next to each other so they don’t get sad.

“it’s festive!” you chimed in, balancing sophia on your hip as she placed a glittery unicorn near the top of the tree. you watched as your son stepped back like an artist proudly admiring their masterpiece.

after the tree was completely covered in colourful decorations, max hoisted jules onto his shoulders so he could place the star at the top. “steady, buddy... okay, now!” the moment the star clicked into place, sophia clapped wildly, and jules raised his arms in triumph.

“we did it!” jules cheered, and max carefully set him down before pulling you and the kids into a warm group hug in front of the brightly glowing tree.

“best christmas tree ever,” max echoed, his voice soft as he kissed the top of jules’ head, then sophia’s, before looking at you with a laugh, “no kissies for you, sorry”. you couldn’t help but laugh and agree with your husband’s statement, feeling the warmth of your little family wrapped up in the magic of the season.

“best christmas ever.”

[wlw-imagines]

It’s Not What It Looks Like - Eloise Bridgerton/Reader (Bridgerton)

request: “can you make like a eloise bridgerton and her lover get caught?” - anon

a/n: very excited to have the time to be writing again, happy days -- set at beginning/mid season 2 ig?? also regency homophobia? pft the bridgertons are above that shit (mostly... so this is a sprinkling of regency homophobia warning ig but more gay pride really !!)

back to new fresh writing from this year (how is it 2024 wtf) - word count is almost 6k yo + no editing because i do not want to

The two of you giggled like little children as you raced one another up the stairs. Eloise pulled on your arm in an attempt to overtake you but you just about managed to beat her to the spot - despite her cheating tactics. 

You tangled your fingers with hers, holding onto her hand as you opened the door to her room, “We should cause a nuisance to your Mother more often.” You looked over your shoulder and made eye contact as you spoke, grinning mischievously. 

Her cheeks turned a sweet rosy colour as she mirrored your smile, letting go of your hand in favour of wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, her hands rested on your hips.

“Hmm, what a punishment to get sent away to be together.” Eloise expelled an over-dramatic sigh before letting out a light laugh. “After all, we are just doing what we’re told.” She shrugged innocently and moved around you, sitting down and landing on her bed with a bounce.

You laughed, letting your gaze linger across her room, acquainting yourself once more with Eloise’s own space and all the small things that had changed since you were last here, “It seems extremely unlike you to ever do what you are told, my love.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, before patting the space next to her.

“Come here, sit.” She smiled and shifted slightly to the side, “Perhaps close the door first.” You let out a small laugh and turned around, gently pushing the door shut.

Turning back to Eloise, you quirked up an eyebrow and smiled, taking a few steps back to stand in front of her, “Is the door shut so we may have further deep discussions about the poetry you leant me? Because if so-”

As soon as you were close enough, Eloise interrupted you and pulled your body between her legs, pressing against her front. Before you could try to finish your sentence, El had her hand resting on your jaw and had pulled you towards her to kiss you. 

Her kiss was, as always, full of emotion and meaning, though today it was also a kiss with a hint of urgency. You let yourself relax into her as she kept your body firmly against hers in as many ways as possible - craving your touch.

You pulled away gently and rested against her. She closed her eyes and smiled, “I must admit to wanting to do that for the longest time.”

Putting your hand back under her chin, you whispered, “You may do it again, if you so wish.” 

She wrapped her arms around you, rolling and pulling you onto the bed so you were lying on top of her and she giggled, peppering your face with kisses.

“We should be careful, my love.” You said, pursing your lips and glancing at the door as you pushed yourself up. El sighed and pulled you back against her, a slight pout on her lips.

She jutted her chin up slightly in defiance and her pout gave way to a soft smile, “Maybe I do not want to be careful.” 

You let out a small snort and gently raised an eyebrow again, “Hmm,” You pressed a few soft kisses to the corner of her mouth, before moving yourself so you were laying next to her with your legs still across her lap - ignoring her protests. You felt something crackle beneath you and moved to grab it and, upon realising it was the newest Whistledown, you held it out to Eloise, “Did you read the latest gossip?”

She groaned lightly in frustration at your distraction tactics but humoured you all the same, rolling onto her side and propping herself up on her elbow, “I may have been distracted half way through. It arrived just before you did.” Her hand came to rest on your stomach and she gently traced her fingers over the material of your dress.

“Where did you get to?” You asked, the gossip already opened as you re-read the pieces you had seen earlier in the day. Eloise raised her head slightly to look at the paper in your hand and gestured to the third paragraph of the first page.

“Perhaps around there?” She shrugged slightly.

Your eyes widened, “Oh, but you completely missed the best bit!”

“Read it to me?” Eloise asked, looking to you through her eyelashes. You smiled, blushing at the intimacy of the moment. 

“Surely there are more romantic things for me to read to you?”

She just hummed and rested her head against your shoulder, “My heart is so full for you that anything you do makes it beat faster.” 

“You’re very soppy, you know that right?” The blush on your cheeks increased tenfold and you couldn’t resist pressing a soft kiss to her lips, brushing your noses together before moving back slightly.

Before you could get another word out, Eloise’s door burst open and Hyacinth fell into the room, a broad grin on her face. Her eyes skipped around the room, looking for the two of you, “Hello? Sister, please - please may I borrow your silk ribbons for m-

You did your best to scramble up and put a bit more platonic space between yourself and Eloise, “H! Good afterno-”

Eloise lazily rolled over, glancing over her shoulder to see her sister, “Hyacinth? Go away. We were in the middle of-”

Hyacinth cleared her throat and had already begun retreating backwards out of the room, her face bright red, “Oh... I didn’t- Sorry, excuse me.”

Your heart was beating faster now and you called out in an attempt to stop her. You wanted to try to explain that it’s not what it looked like at all, “H, wait-”

“Don’t, just let her go. Stay here with me.” Eloise took your hand and tried to pull you back into her again but you resisted this time.

“No, El, what if she tells someone?”

Eloise sat up next to you with exaggerated effort and huffed, “What would she say? Besides, I still want to do this...” She leant towards you, her hand brushing against your hips as she gently connected her lips with yours, “And you were going to read to me?” She whispered, mere inches away from capturing your lips with hers once more.

“What would she-? Really, my love? What would you say if you were to see... the Duke, for example, practically straddling your sister?”

“Straddling? We weren’t straddling, we were just- It’s not...” The realisation dawned on her as she looked at you and considered the close proximity - her hand on your lower stomach, your legs tangled together. Her face went pale as she whispered, “Oh, fuck. Hyacinth! Sister, it is not what it seems.” She untangled herself from you and jumped off the bed, gathering her skirts as she chased after her sister. “Hyacinth!” 

You took a second to panic before pushing yourself off the bed and you followed El out the room, almost crashing into her back on the landing outside, “Where has she gone?” You asked El, who shrugged and you could see the similar panic in her eyes, mirroring your own.

“Mama!” Hyacinth’s voice drifted to you from below. Your head snapped round to the stairs.

“Bloody hell!” Eloise muttered under her breath, running around you to get to the stairs. She thundered down them and, if you weren’t worried about Hyacinth, then you would have laughed at her complete unladylike stomping.

Hyacinth’s voice wailed again as she looked around for her family, “Mama!”

“Oh my, whatever is the matter?” Violet’s voice joined the mix once Hyacinth had found her, evidently exasperated with all her children’s drama.

“It was Y/N and Eloise! They were... together.”

It felt as though there was an audible eyeroll before the two of you heard a response, “Well, yes, I sent them both upstairs to talk about their books and other such stuff. They were too loud down here with all their... chatter.” Just as she finished talking, both you and Eloise hurtled around the corner and into the sitting room, in which the whole family was sitting.

Eloise quickly - and loudly - voiced her objections to whatever accusations she had been picturing her sister making, “Mother, whatever Hyacinth has just said... she is lying. She is withholding the truth from you, as she often does, and-”

Hyacinth’s nostrils flared slightly in annoyance, “I do not!” She interrupted, frowning over at her sister, who quickly (and childlishly) responded right back.

“Do too!”

“Eloise, be kind to your sister.” Lady Violet quickly put her hands up to signal for the two sisters to stop talking and to find some kind of peace, “Besides, she has said nothing but that the two of you were talking.” She shrugged and began to turn back to the rest of the family but Hyacinth piped up again, more confusion and irritation lacing her voice this time.

You quietly and quickly prayed to any deity listening that Hyacinth’s words wouldn’t be utterly discriminating, you still had a chance to wriggle your way out of any current accusations.

“No, I don’t mean talking.” Hyacinth rolled her eyes and her cheeks turned red, “Mama, you must believe me. They were... together!”

Violet let out a deep breath and shrugged apologetically, “Darling, I do not know what you mean.”

You clear your throat and try to shrug nonchalantly, but ends up an awkward flail, “No one does- I mean, it’s fine. Let us all go back to what we were doing, how about that?” You try to move the conversation on - desperately, you must admit.

Simon raises an eyebrow and tilts his head ever so slightly at you, you blush and shake your head. This immediately causes a smirk to break out on his lips, which he clearly does his best to suppress or to hide but this just brings Daphne’s attention to him. You are sure your blush is a permanent feature now.

“Hyacinth, you always cause such a rush and a chaos, running down here to announce nonsense. What do you mean ‘they are together’?” Daphne herself chooses to chime in, frowning at Simon with a questioning glint in her eye.

Eloise lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes her head, “I rather think she means nothing, so-”

Anthony sighed deeply and in an over-exaggerated manner, leaning his head on his palm before snapping, “No more breath need be wasted on this subject. They were together, so what?” He shrugged, clearly bored of the conversation and fuss, and dropped his hands to his knees.

Eloise brightened up and gestured towards him as she looked and nodded to the rest of her family and then focused her gaze back to Anthony, “Well said, brother!” 

“Eloise!” Colin gasped and you did all you could to suppress a groan of disbelief. Anthony immediately straightened in his seat, a fresh interest lighting up his eyes.

“What?” She looked to you with slight alarm, sensing she had done something wrong.

“Agreeing so vehemently with Anthony? I never thought I’d see the day!” Colin leant forward, looking between Anthony and Eloise. He shrugged, raising an eyebrow, “Well, if my suspicions weren’t first raised by Hyacinth screaming the house down - now they well and truly are.” 

Eloise took a deep breath in and shuffled her feet slifghtly before rolling her eyes, “Sometimes... I occasionally might agree with what he has to say.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest, staring defiantly at Colin.

“No, you don’t.” Anthony challenged, bringing everyone’s attention back to him.

Eloise frowned and gritted her teeth, “Yes, I do.”

He let out a scoff, “No, I am sure that you do not.” 

“I simply insist that I do!” 

You let out a small sigh and sunk down into the armchair next to Simon and Daphne. Simon sent you a glance that, at first one may think was sympathetic, but, upon further inspection, showed he was clearly enjoying your public annihilation. You just glared at him, which made him simply smile. Infuriating man.

Colin stood up between the two of them and gestured to Eloise, “Now look! You can’t even agree as to whether you agree.”

“So, what, pray tell, is going on?” Daphne raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Simon and clearly clocking the looks you were giving one another.

You reluctantly cleared your throat, deciding now was a good time to take the heat off from Eloise who was clearly struggling, “I promise, nothing untoward is happening here. We were just playing games, weren’t we H?” You smiled over at Hyacinth, begging her with your eyes to just go along with it.

Hyacinth’s eyes lit up, “Like Daph, and the Duke!” You audibly groaned this time. This kid would not take any hints.

VIolet hesitated, her eyes flitting from one daughter to the next, Hyacinth to Daphne to Eloise, before letting out a confused- “What?”

“They were together... like them!” Hyacinth looked slightly triumphant as she pointed across to Simon and Daphne.

Simon raised an eyebrow and shook his head before muttering under his breath, “Oh, no. Please don’t drag us into this.” You wanted to turn to him and stick your tongue out, but realised that was probably not the best move to play in this very moment.

“Well, I rather think we should let the two in question answer us.” Daphne stared pointedly at the two of you. 

“Here, here!” Simon quickly chimed in, wearing another annoying smirk on his face as he looked at you.

You were about to attempt to protest but as you opened your mouth Eloise defiantly piped up, “Fine.” She shrugged, as nonchalant as she could be.

“What?” You asked in a low voice with a bit of urgency, looking up at where she was standing above you.

You locked eyes and she nodded, clearly trying to convey a message (of which you had  speaking slowly. “Y/N and I were...” She hesitated and you started to panic, knowing you had to come up with something in order to save her.

“Arguing.” Eloise said at the exact same time as you interjected with- “Dancing.”

Eloise swirled back around to look at you, “Dancing? Why in the heavens would we be dancing?” She all but hissed and you looked at her with equal confusion.

“Your sister and her husband dance together... I don’t know?” You rolled your eyes before gesturing at her as you stood up, “Better, in my lowly opinion, than arguing.” 

“I had a plan! If you just let me say it then we would be fine right now.” She lowered her voice - as if that would stop everyone (who all had their eyes glued to the pair of you) from hearing your conversation.

You shook your head, “Eloise, you were floundering!” 

“I was not.” El all but stomped her foot, “I was... pausing for dramatic effect.”

“No, you always do that long pause whenever you are moments away from coming up with a lie. Everyone knows that!” Your voice rose slightly and you gestured to everyone in the room. In your peripheral vision, you could see Daphne raise her eyebrows before nodding. Even if you couldn’t keep the two of you a secret any longer, at least you had the vindication of winning that single point.

You watched as Eloise tried to come up with a rebuttal but, as already established, you were clearly correct. You grinned at her, utterly triumphant, and she just sighed before fondly rolling her eyes and letting her own smile mirror your own.

A clearing of the throat broke the brief silence and Colin’s voice soon followed, “It doesn’t take a genius to understand that the two of you are clearly lying but... really, Y/N? I mean, I must agree. Dancing? Eloise doesn’t dance lest she makes Mother believe she wants to be married off to the unlucky suitor.”

Eloise quickly shifted her glance to Colin and frowned, “I dance.” She insisted at the same time as you moodily grumbled out, “We dance.” and sat back down. To which Colin simply raised an eyebrow and opened his palms.

“Well, in that case, maybe Mother should marry her off to you.” He said and, seconds later, his gaze shifted to one of understanding. He went to open his mouth and shut it moments later.

Hyacinth let out a loud, frustrated sigh and pointed at Colin, “That’s my point! They were behaving like they’re married!”

“Right... I see.” Violet sat up stiffer in her chair and glanced down at her entwined hands before looking up to her daughter, “Hyacinth, go to your room.”

“But-”

Hyacinth went to protest but was quickly shut down with a steely one word response from her mother - “Go.” Reluctantly (and rather sulkily), she retreated out of the family room and stomped up every single stair before shutting the door to her bedroom rather loudly.

Throughout this, Violet’s eyes restlessly moved from her hands, to Eloise, and back, before eventually landing on Eloise completely. “Now, Eloise, I will only ask you this once. Were you- What was it that the two of you were... Tell me what Hyacinth means by...” Her mother danced around the subject, her hands working at the fabric of her dress, until Daphne sighed loudly and moved her body to sit facing Eloise.

“Mother remains to lack a certain skill of talking directly about... certain things. May I ask instead... are the two of you fucking?” She kept eye contact the whole time, hardly reacting as her mother physcially flinched and gasped, her cheeks turning rosy.

“Daphne!” Violet spoke, aghast.

Daphne eventually turned to her mother, “What? You cannot dilly-dally around with such a subject.” She shrugged and turned back to the two of you.

“I... yes. I guess perhaps... that is what I was getting around to in a way.” Violet’s gaze evetually settled on the two of you as well. 

You knew this direct line of questioning (and outing by Eloise’s sister) was going to be slightly harder to avoid than previously. And even then you hadn’t managed to do a convincing job of it. Still, the two of you bravely (stupidly) fought on.

Eloise vehemently shook her head, “I- no! We don’t...” She put her hand on your shoulder, which would normlly be soothing, but you pushed it off, hoping no one saw (they clearly did). “I mean we weren’t-”

You squirmed in your seat slightly. Explaining your relationship with El’s family was not what you had planned for the day, “What Eloise is trying to say is-” Eloise shook her hand at you, trying to forge on with her own sentence.

“To say ‘fucking’ is too-”

Your eyes widened at the way in which this conversation seemed to be going, “Eloise!” You cut her off, cheeks ablaze.

She looked across to you with innocent eyes, “What! I-”

Before she could land you in it even more, you tried to steer this into safer territory - desperate not to have to talk about sex in front of Eloise’s family, “Okay, listen-”

Again, Eloise managed to charge on. You slumped back in your chair, exhausted from trying to keep Eloise under control and away from the topic of fucking, “You know, I find it very interesting that... pleasuring a woman is deemed purely a male pastime and not-”

You let out a groan of frustration and sighed, taking hold of Eloise’s hand and squeezing softly, “El, my love, not the time.” She kept hold of your hand and turned to you. You took this as an opportunity to actually talk, “She meant we were not doing anything of the... sort. We would not even perchance dream of-”

Before you could finish your sentence, yet another Bridgerton was interrupting you. You involuntarily squeezed Eloise’s hand, tense at having to fight off more allegations, “They definitely are... surely. Look at them.” Daphne spoke.

You looked around the room. To Simon, who looked in pain at how much he was having to hold in a laugh. Daphne, who looked victorious. Colin, who still had an annoying, clever (but not unkind) smirk on his face. Anthony, who - in all honestly - couldn’t look much more like he was living a nightmare - perhaps tortured was the word. He was probably not feeling up to dealing with yet another Bridgerton scandal or another duel at dawn (which, for the record, neither were you). And Violet, who had started to return to a more normal colouring in her face, was looking slightly more relaxed - although you still couldn’t really read the woman.

Then... Eloise, who, since you had interrupted her, had been gazing at you. You were fools to believe that you could keep this under wraps. You finally saw her as if you were looking from the outside in and she had the most ridiculous, overpowering, gorgeous love-eyes you had ever seen. You melted in your chair slightly. You’d do anything to not have to give this up.

Eloise squeezed your hand gently and enveloped you in a hug as she was still standing and as you were still sitting, squeezing you into her side. She took a step back and held out both her hands. You hesitated but nodded, slipping your hands into hers.

With her gaze holding yours she nodded, “Yes, fine, we’re fucking.”

“Eloise!” You gasped, letting go of her hands and swatting at her head. She let out a laugh as she ducked away from you. Simon, next to you, finally let out the laugh he had been holding and Daphne quickly joined in. You turned to them, with red cheeks once more, “It’s not funny! Eloise, you’re being crass. And an ass. And anything else that rhymes!”

“I’m just answering the question I was given!” She grinned cheekily, stepping close enough to tempt another attempt at a hit from you, before dodging it just in time and letting out another laugh. You couldn’t help but start to grin at the absurdity of the situations, Eloise laughing wildly as she jumped around you, Simon shaking with laughter next to you. Even Anthony may have let out a small laugh. Maybe.

“Okay, stop, everyone.” Violet’s voice interrupted the slight moment of insanity, “How long has this been going on for?”

Eloise, still slightly puffed out from dodging your attacks, shrugged the question off, “Mother, it’s not-”

“How long?” Violet’s eyes were steely as she raised an eyebrow, tutting when Eloise let the silence stretch on a bit too long.

“Perhaps just a handful of months? Two? Or three. Maybe four?” Eloise’s smile shrank with every word.

“Under my roof?”

You slid back into your seat and quietly mumbled, “Under many a roof, in all fairness.” Although Violet had clearly heard as she frowned.

“What is this?” She asked gesturing between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” Eloise asked, stubborn as always, pushing her mother further than perhaps necessary.

Violet sighed and her eyes raised to the ceiling, “Eloise? Is this just your way of rebelling away from what is expected? From society? From me?” She asked, eyes landing back to Eloise.

“Mother-”

You wished you could bring back the laughter from moments ago. You gritted your teeth, annoyed at the woman you practically saw as your own mother. You hadn’t planned on telling anyone. Really you were going to try to live your whole lives together without anyone finding out. Which, in retrospect, had seemed a bit foolish. But you had hoped that Violet, and the Bridgerton family, of all people would be slightly more free-minded than this.

You stood up, putting yourself between Eloise and Violet, “This isn’t a rebellion.” You huffed out, angrily and frowned at Violet to really prove the point that you were angry at her. As the silence drew on and Eloise didn’t voice her approval of your input, you started to doubt yourself. You slowly turned to Eloise, eyes soft with sudden worry and feeling of self-consciousness, “Is it?”

“Of course not.” She frowned in dismay, shaking her head as she held your chin in her hands for a few moments. She then moved forward so she was shoulder to shoulder with you, “Mother, I- I don’t work to society’s rules. I’m not... it’s not my fault. It’s just me.” 

This was it. This was the make or break. You took in a deep breath and interlinked your fingers with Eloise’s. Stronger together. “El-” You whispered, your heart hammering. Violet had to accept you. She had to.

Violet’s voice came out slightly wobbly, “Eloise, of course it’s not your fault, you just-”

Before Violet could say anything more Eloise interjected, “I love her, I do. I love Y/N. Like you loved Father.” She sniffled slightly. You took a long sideways look at her and squeezed your eyes shut. Come on Violet. “I remember watching and wanting and yearning for what you had, ever since I was young. And I couldn’t understand why I could not even fathom that with any man in the ton. I haven’t known who I am. But I have that with Y/N, I do. You cannot blame me for finding that kind of love with her just because she is not a man, please.” Eloise’s eyes became glossy. You had to give it to her, she always pulled out a good speech. Well... not always actually. But this one was a good one. You squeezed her hand and didn’t stop until Violet answered.

“No, Eloise, I would never.”

“I know it may not seem right to many, but it’s... it’s not my fault... it’s who I am.” Eloise trembled slightly. Violet was on her feet before you knew it.

”Oh, my Eloise.” She herself had watery eyes. You could breathe a bit more easily as she swooped forward and brought Eloise into her arms. You let go of Eloise’s hand to let her wrap her hands around her mother’s waist. After a few moments, Violet pulled back, “Look at me. I know who you are. You’re a Bridgerton. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known. You are not at fault. How could you be when there is nothing to be at fault for?”

“You really think so?” Eloise asked.

Violet held both of Eloise’s clasped in her own, “Of course I do. A love like mine and your father’s, a love like yours, is rare so you have to hold onto it, yes?”

“I will.”

“Come here,” She hugged her again. “You too, Miss Y/L/N. Y/N.” She smiled at you and your face broke into a broad grin as she enveloped you into the hug too. You knew you could rely on her, always. Even if it took a little bit of time. “The two of you deserve the world.”

From the middle of the hug, you heard a soft clearing of a throat and Anthony once again piping up, “I don’t suppose you’ll be providing a dowry?”

Eloise pulled away from the hug, wiping at the tears grouping at the corner of her eyes, “Oh, shove off, Anthony.” She let out a half laugh and a half sob.

“I jest!” He grinned, “Unless...?” He turned to you, raising an eyebrow, a twinkle in his eye.

“I’m sure I have a few pennies to my name.” You smiled and Eloise’s arms circled your waist from behind.

“And I love her for more than just those few pennies!” She shouted over your shoulder, pulling you into her front.

Anthony put a hand on your shoulder and ruffled Eloise’s hair, “I am happy for you.” He finally admitted, a brotherly pride shining in his eyes.

You shifted away, letting Eloise and Anthony have a brief sweet moment (before one of them made a biting remark and it turned to hostility again). You decided to reclaim your seat next to Simon, who, with something akin to brotherly pride, put his arm around your shoulder.

“And I thought Daph and I caused quite the stir.” He grinned, bringing his arm back around to his side.

“Don’t, I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” You wriggled deeper into the settee, willing yourself to forget the majority of the embarrassing things that has just happened. The two of you watched as the present members of the Bridgerton clan all talked at the same time, spitting out jokes and jostling at one another.

Simon followed your gaze to Eloise and let out a deep chuckle, “You’re a rake!” He exclaimed.

You gasped in fake outrage and turned to him, “I am not!” You protested, a smile forming as he continued to laugh and elbow you in the ribs.

“You so are! Worse than me, you rascal.” He smiled, his own gaze settling on his wife, who was tormenting Eloise with ‘girl talk’.

“Stop! I’ve heard the stories of you and Daph. You’ve out-rascaled me ten times over!” You smirked.

He shook his head, “The big rake competition of 1815.” He hummed. You smiled as Eloise came to join you, making you squeeze up to fit herself next to you, as well as letting Daphne fit in her original seat.

As silence descended and everyone started to calm, Violet let out a contended sigh and leant back in her chair, her eyes turning to the settee the four of you were currently squabbling over, “I must say, I’m quite good at this love matching malarkey, aren’t I?” She asked. Everyone immediately stilled and there was a heavy pause before the noise began again.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, “Well, I wouldn’t say that you-”

Daphne let out an exasperated, “Mother!”

Eloise snorted, “You have done nothing to help our love matches!” 

Colin sighed and shook his head, “God help the rest of us...”

Violet decided to ignore all her children and smiled serenely. And at that moment the doors swung open.

“Good afternoon one, good afternoon all, how are we?” Benedict swanned in, immediately clocked a plate of biscuits and helped himself, taking the whole plate in his hands. He munched for a few moments before looking around for an answer. When he didn’t get one from anyone he smiled, “What?” He finished his mouthful and wiped his hand clean before going for another biscuit anyway, “Well, have I missed something?”

There was another long pause before Violet almost burst with the answer, “Y/N and Eloise are together.”

Benedict’s eyes swerved to the two of you, practically sitting in each other’s laps in order to fit on the settee together. He paused before nodding and gesturing in your direction, “Yes, I can see that.”

Violet smiled and shook her head, leaning forward in excitement, “No, like, together together.”

The crease in Benedict’s forehead deepened as he glanced at you again, “Yes... as I say, I can see that quite clearly.” He let out a small laugh, looking around to see if there was some joke he was missing. “Is everyone okay?”

“Oh for goodness sake, can no one in this family communicate properly and succintly?” Daphne fumed, “They are fucking.” 

“Daphne!” You groaned, having prayed that this day couldn’t get more embarrassing for you. And yet there was still more embarrassment to bloody experience. This family was torture (you still would do anything to keep them in your life though, that was clear).

“Okay, can we stop with the crude language?” Violet cast a look to Daphne, before looking at the two of you again with pride, “They are lovers.”

You felt Eloise recoil next to you, “Gross, Mother, no.” She shook her head and only stopped when she saw you looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “What? I mean, I love you but- lovers? Really?”

“Sorry, that’s the big news?” Benedict’s laughed again and his smile grew as he whirled around to look at his whole family again before shaking his head, “Well, obviously! These two are the least subtle ‘lovers’ in the whole bloody world.” 

“Again, with the ‘lovers’.” Eloise muttered next to you.

You smiled and whispered back to her, “Shut up, you love me.” She squeezed your thigh quickly in answer.

“Does anyone actually pay attention to what goes on in this house?” Benedict walked over to the settee you were occupying and leant his elbow on the back of it, taking another biscuit and spreading crumbs as he went.

“Well, I thought we did a splendid job.” Eloise shrugged, removing her hand from your leg and crossing her arms over her chest.

Benedict shook his head, “I’ve seen you kiss at least seven times.”

“You’re counting?” You quirked an eyebrow up, teasing him as he threw his head back to laugh.

“No!” He protested, “I simply mean-”

You jumped up, ready to be the teaser rather than the teased, and grabbed a biscuit of his plate, “Do you keep a little notebook of each time we encounter one another?” You grinned, now finally the one who gets to revel in someone else’s embarrassment.

Eloise snorted, “Dear diary, Eloise and Y/N held hands for seven minutes and forty-two seconds today-”

“Leave me be.” Benedict rolled his eyes good-naturedly and swatted at Eloise as he started to walk away, back out of the family room.

You followed him, taking another biscuit, and continuing Eloise’s joke, “They kissed twice but one was simply a kiss upon the cheek so cannot be counted-”

“And here i was going to offer to be your beard.” He grunted. The rest of the family stayed seated, listening to your conversation.

Your laugh ringed out, “Total kiss-count to date: three.” You mimicked his voice.

“Now that you are essentially a sibling, I am not afraid to kick you down the stairs, you know.” Benedict’s muffled voice came from the bottom of the stairs. Your voices got quieter as you walked to the dining room and Violet looked around the room, smiling brilliantly.

“How marvellous. The family grows!” She winked at Eloise who sighed and left the room, not wanting to be without you now. Violet watched her go and hummed before turning to the rest with a frown, “What is a ‘beard’?”

Anthony took in a deep breath and quickly stood to his feet, “I think dinner is ready.” He cleared his throat and walked out, leaving the rest to slowly join him, and the three of you, at the table.

[happy74827]

Bittersweet Moments

[Peter Maximoff x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your best friend (if you’d even call him that), is an annoying piece of work 99% of the time. But that 1%? That 1% is pretty special.

WC: 1513

Category: Fluff, Irritated!Reader, Mentions of Migraines

My first Evan Peters fic? Lets go.

『••✎••』

Being friends with that white-haired speedster meant you never had a moment of quiet. The guy was just so fast that you never had a second to blink without him pulling a prank on you, which is why you were constantly on edge around him. You could never trust him.

But that didn't mean that he didn't have his moments.

You were on the floor, eyes shut, attempting to fade the raging migraine out. You made your room into a dark cave and had been there all day, and yet, the pain in your head only grew.

By the time you heard your door creak open, you already felt the presence and the air in the room shift. It was almost like a ghost was floating through the doorway.

"No." The voice was quiet, and the sound was barely audible.

The soft footsteps stopped, and you opened one eye, seeing the blurred white figure. Your vision was blurry, and everything was doubled, but you could make out the face.

"You locked me out." The tone wasn't accusatory or playful. It was a soft, concerned tone that made your chest squeeze.

You rolled your head back, trying to look up at him.

"Sorry," you croaked. "But I’m also not sorry. I needed the silence."

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. He crouched down his hand landing on your arm. His skin was cold against yours. "I know you secretly look forward to our little hangouts."

"No, I don't," you grumbled. "And I especially don't right now."

"Can’t even handle my presence without getting whiplash? Man, I must be really awesome."

You could faintly make out his smug smirk, and it made you snort, only worsening your headache.

"Just..." You waved your hand at him. "Get out. Leave."

He, in fact, did not leave. Instead, he stood up and went over to your bed.

You watched him in confusion as he took off his shoes, and then, with a quick flash of light, he was beside you once again, a blanket suddenly wrapped around him.

"Wh-" You were cut off as the blanket was draped around you, and you found yourself pulled up from the ground.

Peter's arm slipped around your shoulders, and he led you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers, and you climbed in, still unsure of what was going on.

Once you were in bed, he pulled the covers back up, and before you could say anything, his headset was ripped from your dresser. He placed them over his ears and lay down beside you.

He looked at you and nodded his head, giving you a thumbs-up.

You just stared at him, completely confused, but his gaze was unwavering. You let out a sigh, deciding to just roll with it. You were too tired to deal with Peter's bullshit anyway.

You rested your head on the pillow and shut your eyes.

A few moments later, a tune started playing, the music filling your ears. Not the loud, classic rock he usually blasted, but a soothing acoustic.

"You’re a fan of the Beatles?" You asked, surprised. You fluttered your eyes only to see Peter's face correctly. He looked like he was in deep thought. And with the soothing music from his Walkman (that he obviously lent to you) and the quiet, you couldn't help but feel a small tug on your heart.

He shrugged. "It just felt like the right song for the mood."

"Meaning… me dying?"

"Oh, stop being dramatic," he rolled his eyes. "Your little brain is just confused from having a devilishly handsome man lay in bed with you."

"You do realize I’ve had this for days now, right?"

"Alright, so, a devilishly handsome man around you. Is that better?"

"I can’t believe I let you in here," you grumbled, closing your eyes once more.

"Don't lie," he said, a little louder than usual since the music was loud in your ears. "You know you like my company—that and my box of sweets."

What box of—

Your eyes opened, and you looked up, seeing him holding a box of chocolate-covered almonds. Your heart did a flip.

"Is this... " You reached for the box, and he handed it to you.

"They're the good stuff. None of that cheap candy crap."

"Wow, you eat something other than Twinkies? I'm impressed," you teased, taking a piece and popping it into your mouth.

"Hey, don't hate the Twinkies. You ever try them with ice cream? It's great. It's like cake, but it's not, ya know? They're just so squishy, but the flavor is there."

"Uh, ew?"

"What, are you some fancy girl? Too high class for my delicious desserts?"

"Yeah, that's exactly it," you laughed, shaking your head. You rested your head on the pillow again.

"Whatever," he chuckled. "Eat your expensive ass almonds. I had to pay actual money for those, and I'm pretty sure Hank's going to notice they're gone."

That made you sit up despite the pounding in your head. "You stole them?! Oh my god, what's wrong with you?!"

"What?" he looked at you innocently. So I stole a box of chocolates. Big deal. The guy's rich. He never notices when I swipe his food. He'll just assume he forgot to put them away or something."

"Ugh, you are such an ass."

"You say ass; I say awesome."

"No," you said, putting another almond into your mouth. "Ass."

"Alright, fine. But, hey, look, who’s still eating the stolen chocolates?"

"Yeah, well," you smirked, taking another one. " Technically, I didn’t steal it. You did. So I can have a clear conscience."

"Ah, I see," he grinned. "Well, in that case, have another. Grab as many as you want. My treat."

You stared at him. "Okay, who are you, and what did you do with Peter?"

"What?"

"This," you gestured towards him. "All of this. You're never nice."

"Well, when you've had a migraine that's lasted for three days, you kinda learn to have a little empathy for that person."

"Three days?" you said, shocked. "Wait, how did you know the exact amount of time?"

"Don’t let anyone tell you you’re just a pretty face… I’m an all-seeing god, remember? Nothing can get by me."

"Except when Apocalypse broke—"

"Okay! Okay, I don’t need to relive that, alright? Sheesh, you're worse than Raven."

You grinned, taking another almond.

"Thanks," you said sincerely.

"For what? Comparing you to the blue lady? Anytime."

"No," you rolled your eyes. "I mean, for not pulling a… well, you. I really do appreciate it."

"Does this mean you’re leaving the Batcave? If we're getting sappy, then I should probably head out. I don’t want to risk my rep."

"You and I both know you have no reputation."

"True," he smiled. But hey, a guy can dream, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head. You were about to lay back down when he spoke up again.

"Actually," he said, looking at the ceiling, "there is one thing I'm good at."

"What's that?"

He didn't say anything. He just stared at the ceiling.

"Pete?"

His head whipped around to you, and with the same speed, he was leaning over you, his face inches away from yours.

"Peter, what—"

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your ear, and the comment you were about to say died in your throat.

"I can shut up."

The sound of his voice, so soft and low, sent shivers down your spine. He pulled away and gave you a quick smile.

"Just something to think about," he said, and you could see the red tint on his cheeks. He sat up and stood in front of you before you could say anything else.

"You can give the Walkman back whenever, so, uh, don't worry about it. Anyway, I gotta get going. You know, stuff to do and snacks to eat." He turned towards the door. "Anyway, feel better. Later."

And before you could comprehend what had just happened, he was gone just like the wind.

You sat in your bed, still feeling the phantom feeling of his breath on your ear.

And ironically, the pain in your head was starting to fade.

So, yes. Despite him being an annoying little shit, he did have his moments. Genuine, quiet, caring moments. And it always made you question whether or not he was secretly a clone.

You were still staring at the door, your mind running a mile a minute.

But then, as if he could read your thoughts, he peeked his head back into your room.

"Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, I'll tell everyone you're a huge Star Wars nerd."

He vanished, and a second later, he was back once more.

"Also, I definitely didn’t steal that Walkman from a certain someone, so, uh, have fun with the mixtape!"

With that, he was gone.

You rolled your eyes and laid back down, putting the headphones back on.

"Ass."

You will definitely be visiting the white-haired speedster tomorrow. He may have his moments, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve some good old-fashioned payback.

[nvuy]

hi! back with my bullshit. i've been feral about jing yuan lately, AGAIN. this man never leaves the crevices of my barely-wrinkled brain. this time, i'm thinking about sparring with him... you're both grinning and out of breath and you swear jing yuan is trying to rile you up even more with his constant grabbing you whenever he can. and then you end up pinned under him, with his big hands squeezing every piece of your skin he can like he's trying to tear you apart.. oh i'm drooling

punching bag — jing yuan

summary. you regret day in and day out that you asked general jing yuan to help you work on your swordsmanship, and it doesn’t help that he barely takes it seriously.

notes. hi mords my little goober this is for u. also for anyone that likes jing yuan. and praise. and ummm. sweaty sword fighting and making out. i guess.

warnings. minor innuendos. you can tell how i feel about jing yuan just by this piece alone.

“Stick it, old man.” Your sword blocks his, and you gasp in triumph. His blade is inches from your throat, but your own keeps it in place.

It is heavy, though. You geniunely wonder how he’s able to even fight with something that can crack a tree log in two faster than an axe can.

You pant in exasperation, and you almost choke on your spit with excitement. Though you feel as though to your face is on fire and your hair is matted with sweat, the smile on your face is golden.

General Jing Yuan grins. His teeth flash. “Well done.”

You pull back the weapon after a moment, exhausted as you swallow thickly. There’s adrenaline coursing through your veins, and your heart is pumping so sporadically you’re sure it’s about to escape from your throat.

Then, you do it again, and again, and again, and again, and your triumph slowly moulds into something worse. You feel utterly pathetic, being able to fend off the General of the Luofu as if it’s like spreading butter on bread.

To that, you lower your weapon after what seems like hours, but was only a few minutes. “Are you even trying?”

Jing Yuan teases you with a taut smile. “Why would you think otherwise? What if you’ve just dramatically improved?”

You scrunch your face up at that.

His eyes light up with mischief before he raises his weapon. “Come. Again.”

Hesitantly, you draw your blade once more. It’s the same cut as his, you’re sure, for a more even match. It’s hardly ‘even’ though, when one wrong move will have his weapon cracking yours into two. And you feel it every time you manage to stop him.

You clear your throat and stumble back for a moment. Maybe a second of pep talk and talking down to yourself. That usually works

Jing Yuan yawns when you take too long. He’s not even looking at you; rather, he’s busy observing his weapon for any impurities on the blade.

That sets you off.

Your face burns with fury and you reel your fist backwards until it flies at his stupid, dumb, handsome face.

He catches your knuckles easily with his palm. “Someone’s growing claws,” he whispers. He taps you lightly on the leg with his blade. “I am teaching you the way of the blade, first and foremost, before hand-to-hand combat.”

“Scared I’ll land a punch, old man?” you spit, trying to swipe at his face again.

“Terrified,” he responds. “Now. Shoulders back. Again.”

You huff.

Again.

He blocks.

He dodges.

You curse at him at first. He only replies with a fond chuckle.

Then, you stumble, over and over again. He manages to trip you with his foot about ten times. On the eleventh attempt, you stop his attack with a stomp on his blade, but he simply pulls it out from underneath you.

You pull the blade forward and try to slice his face in half. His weapon stops yours almost too easily.

You grow frustrated and almost throw your weapon to the floor in defeat.

“Start trying a little less?” you ask him through bated breaths.

“Having a rough time?” he teases before simply side stepping your next manoeuvre with his eyes shut, before one gentle shove of his finger against your back as you stumbling right to the floor. “Again. You aren’t balanced.”

You try to stand up, but your legs give out, and you crumble to your knees again. He’s not even holding you against the floor, and embarrassment flares in your stomach.

You try fanning at your face with your hands. The afternoon sun is beating down hot and hard, and you’re clearly not the only one struggling. Jing Yuan busies himself untying his hair to retire it since it has come loose and has begun sticking to his face.

You swallow distastefully as you stare up at him from the floor.

He straightens the ribbon in his hair and shakes out the sweat thats beginning to matt in his roots.

You’re too busy admiring his arms to give a shit about what he’s saying, considering his lips are moving. His stupidly big fucking arms. That you want him to squash you with until you can’t feel your face. And can’t breathe.

“Is that all you can take?” he hums. His palms must be sweating as he readjusts the fingerless gloves he’s wearing. He breathes out once, evenly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you huff and manage to stand to your feet. “Some people aren’t immortal beings with ridiculous spouts of stamina.”

“The stamina comes from training,” he reminds. He’s retrieved your weapon, and he holds it out to you. “And discipline.”

Whatever. Begrudgingly, you snatch it from his hand and raise it.

“Imagine as if this is a fight to the death,” is all he tells you.

And you try. You really do try.

It’s almost as if he grows extra limbs when the time calls for it. Just when you believe both his hands are busy and you find an opening, he suddenly grows a third leg, or an extra finger, or something, and he’s magically stopped your next move. He can predict your every move; he can read every time you’re thrown off guard or you’re distracted or your foot stance is off. He doesn’t so much throw you to the floor, but rather allows gravity to do the work for him.

He does ensure you have a soft landing, however. So, you suppose he can play nice sometimes — that, and the last time he offered to be your punching bag, you’d ended up hitting your head so hard on the ground that you were stuck in the hospital for three days with a horrible concussion.

“Feeling any better?” he asked curiously a few hours after you’d been admitted. He’d been kind enough to visit your little room and was busy poking at a small teddy bear one of your friends had gifted you, alongside three cards and a bouquet of flowers.

That… he’d given you. Well, you think he did, because you don’t remember seeing them before he showed up. You were too miserable to really ask about it, though, so you kept your mouth shut.

“No,” you mumbled. “I feel like… shit.”

He hums sympathetically.

“I apologise again,” Jing Yuan said softly, slotting next to you on the bed and resting a hand on your arm. “If you need me for anything, do let me know.”

You take a deep breath to try and settle your queasy stomach.

“Yeah,” you slurred. Watching him is hard work as it is; you’re already dizzy and nauseous and you were growing antsy and worried that you’d need to puke again. Negative points if the General had to witness it. “Fuckin’ catch me next time.”

He grinned and lightly pinched your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Yes, General.”

You almost fly to the floor again, and Jing Yuan grabs at your hips and straightens you quickly.

You murmur, “I’m not gonna die if I fall.” Your face is hot with blood and you try to turn away from him to hide it.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” He’s even dusting off your shoulders and slicking back the short hairs stuck to your forehead. “You’re a fragile thing. I’d hate to see you get hurt again.”

You try and throw another punch.

He clicks his tongue when you almost crash your nose into his chest plate. And you’ve done that before — and Aeons, that hurt, too.

Miserably, you drop your sword and it clatters to the ground with a terrible noise.

You raise your arms up and thwack him in the chest lightly.

He hums. “Have I told you your arms look better?” He reaches and squeezes at one of your biceps. “Much better.” He looks content, and there’s a coy smile at his lips.

Your face burns.

Your eyes are sparkling, but disdain curls over your tone. “You’re a riot, General. Do you flirt with everyone like this?”

“Maybe,” he responds quickly.

You step back and clear your throat as you retrieve your weapon. “Don’t make me jealous.”

He’s just simply dodging everything, and the flat side of his sword smashes against your stomach, neck, thighs, ribs, anywhere he can reach.

It doesn’t help with every soft land he hits on you, he follows it up with a quick, “dead.”

He taps your ankle at one point and does it again. Your teeth grit and you try to slice his hand clean off.

He easily removes himself.

“I can’t block every angle,” you defend as he straightens up. “How can I block my face and my feet at the same time?”

“By foot stance,” he chimes in lightly. “Here’s a tip: stand back. A sword as deft as this one—” He reaches forward and pinches the tip of the blade between his fingers, “—can be used decently at a distance. Don’t stand directly in front of me.” He presents his own weapon. You don’t even try to hold it up. “Because of its weight, you have a distance advantage over me. And, I have to work around it.”

You listen. You don’t want to, out of spite, but you do. You know he’s not purposefully making you feel useless; he’s told you many times he thinks your skills are impressive. He’s more so attempting to rile you up.

And it’s working.

You’re too busy admiring his biceps to care. “Nice arms.”

He displays a boyish grin just for you. “Thank you.” Then, he readjusts his grip on the hilt. “If you weren’t so busy ogling, you’d have an opening.”

“I play nice, General,” you remind him. “I’m not going to cheat.”

“If you say so,” he taunts.

And then, he lunges for you.

General Jing Yuan hasn’t once initiated a fight on his hand, and it nearly takes you off guard. It’s been a back and forth of you trying to land a clean hit, and him easily avoiding your shots.

You just about manage to hold him off when you almost trip backwards. You regain your footing and nerves wrack up your spine. He swings again. He barely misses your neck when your sword clashes with his blade.

“Good,” he murmurs. “You’re learning.”

“Ooh,” you whisper. “I love it when you stroke my ego.”

“I know.” He tries again, this time reeling back and switching the blade to his left hand to try and catch you off guard. You block that one, too.

You giggle like an idiot.

Then, you shove him backwards with your sword and go for a swipe at his nose.

It doesn’t exactly go the way you planned. Not on your part. Jing Yuan praised you afterwards for the execution, but this is the General of the Luofu, and if he wanted to win, he would win. At any cost.

He trips you over just as easily as he had the other eleven times. Your hands instinctively fly out towards the ground to cushion your fall, but you don’t quite make it all the way into the grass this time.

He catches you again, this time in some makeshift position as if you’d been dancing instead of trying to literally kill him, but he does keep your head from smashing into the floor again. You can feel the headache forming just thinking about it.

Jing Yuan knocks the sword from your hand and it falls by your feet.

“I was having fun,” you whine lowly to him. “You always spoil everything.”

There’s exhilaration there, and you feel it surge in your heart, hot and heavy. You’re excited, somewhat. The adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your skin is so warm and light you feel as though you could pop at any moment.

It doesn’t help your case that the general is so close to you, and has a smile so wide you’re worried his face will split into two.

You admire him for a moment too long.

A moment so long that his grin grows impossibly wider, and mischief flares in his eyes.

His grip loosens.

Your heart drops to your stomach.

You scrabble in a panic and your arms swing around his shoulders.

He holds you again with a snicker.

“You win,” you declare finally. “I’m going home.”

“Sure.” He doesn’t move. “If you can free yourself, that is.”

You barely try to wriggle from his grasp before sighing. “C’mon. I’m tired.” His grip doesn’t even loosen his hold in the slightest. “We can do this tomorrow.”

“This is your last test,” he announces, somewhat dramatically. “Imagine that this is your final moment to choose between life and death.” With one hand still encircling your waist, the other lets go reach downward just enough to retrieve your sword. “There is very little you can do.”

The sword gently taps against your sternum, angled just enough for the tip to barely threaten a carving into your chest.

You claw at his arms, but he doesn’t budge. Your back strains with the position he holds you in, and your legs barely have enough leverage to keep you standing.

You are quite literally at his mercy.

And again, your footwork is off.

You grunt when he leans in close. Way too close for comfort. You feel somewhat like a caged animal, and you’re sure you look the part.

“There are decisions you can make, however,” he chides. “Five seconds. Think.”

You glance down at your weapon pointed at your chest. You hesitantly unwrap your arms from around his neck and try and grab at it.

In the time it’s taken you to muster the courage to let go of him, his grip loosens around your waist again. Your heart drops and you quickly curl your arms around his shoulders again.

“Too slow,” is all he remarks. “Four.”

You make a desperate attempt at wriggling from his grasp, but he only chuckles at your futility.

“Three.”

You almost give up. “This is dumb.”

“Two.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The worst idea springs to mind, and for the final second, you second-guess yourself.

“One–”

Your hands shift from his arms to his cheeks, and you draw him as close as you could before you strained your neck upwards.

Your lips press against his in a last ditch effort as a distraction, and for a moment, you believe it doesn’t work. He completely freezes up and stiffens in your grasp like a corpse.

The sword still presses to your chest, and you find it uncomfortable to inhale for a moment. It feels as though one wrong move will send the sharpened blade driving forth into your skin.

And then, he drops the weapon in favour of slotting his hand behind your head and keeping you on him. The sound of metal hitting the floor rings distantly in your ears.

His lips are coated in sweat, and you taste salt and oranges. The scent is addicting enough, oddly, and you sigh into his mouth with relief.

His hand wanders. Not dangerously, but enough to keep you alert. It slides from your hair to your throat, and it remains against your jugular for a good long while. His thumb then flutters to the notch and keeps you still and placated.

Then, he rubs gently at your sternum, as if in apology. You pay it no mind. Your hands are still, save for the gentle stroke at the nape of his neck.

He’s teasing you, you figure out, even when he’s all wrapped around your finger like the ribbon in his hair. He pulls away constantly to see if you’ll give chase, and of course you do.

You’d feel almost pathetic if he wasn’t eagerly returning the kiss like an idiot.

He then pulls away. Much too quickly for your liking.

You frown and try to tug at his hair to bring him on your tongue.

Jing Yuan presses his fingers to your lips. “I thought you said you played nice?”

“Whatever, handsome,” you mumble. You reach upwards and tussle his already messy hair.

His lips are red with spit. Your spit. You did that. Gross.

Your heart flutters and you giggle.

“That would’ve been a good time to throw a punch,” he says after a moment.

You think about it. Then, you reel your fist back and aim at his face. “Sure.”

His other arm holds strong wrapped around your waist when he catches your wrist. Instead, he places soft kisses along your knuckles.

Something hot bubbles in your stomach. Easy.

“Will you kiss every opponent that bests you like that?” Jing Yuan asks quietly, a sneaking grin growing on his reddened lips.

You hum softly and cup his face gently. “Maybe.”

He scoffs lightly. “Don’t make me jealous.”

[svtiddiess]

Curiosity Killed The Cat Gets You Laid?

Synopsis: It's Halloween night, and you're wandering through the woods you were always warned to stay far away from, searching for vampires. They say curiosity killed the cat, but no one mentioned it could also get you laid.

Pairing: vampire!Jeonghan x afab!reader x vampire!Wonwoo

Genre: suggestive, one shot, vampire! au, supernatural! au

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: blood, injuries, vampires, dry humping, lemme me know if I missed anything!

Note: Happy Halloween! This is my first attempt at a vampire fic so please be nice.

Thank you so much to Indi @wongyuseokie for the amazing banner! She ate for real.

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October 31st, Halloween, the one day you look forward to all year. In this small, sleepy town where nothing ever happens, Halloween is the rare time when everything feels alive. It's ironic, really, that a holiday meant to honour the dead and the supernatural is the only time the town truly comes to life.

Although plenty of celebrations and parties are happening around town, your mind is elsewhere: vampires. Rumours about the woods on the edge of town have been swirling for years. Some say it's home to secret gold mines; others claim there's a hidden graveyard for those who have sinned way beyond redemption, and many point to the string of murders that have occurred there. But what really grabs your attention is the rumour that vampires live there.

You've been told time and time again never to step foot into the woods, but hey, you can't stop curiosity now, can you? And that's why here you are on Halloween night, making your way through the woods you've been told to stay far away from. You chose tonight for this journey because Halloween is when vampires are supposedly most active—at least, that's what the internet said. You're really hoping it wasn't wrong.

The crunch of leaves and the distant hooting of owls greet you as you step into the woods. A chill runs down your spine as you take in your surroundings—the darkness wrapping around the trees gives the forest an eerie, foreboding feel. The shadows twist into strange shapes, making you glance over your shoulder and double-check your surroundings more often than usual.

You mentally curse yourself for not bringing a proper flashlight; your phone flashlight does the bare minimum to light the surroundings. After several minutes of walking, you stop in your tracks. You could swear you've passed this same tree four times already—or is it a different one? Damn, you might be lost.

'This might've been a stupid idea,' you think.

In too deep to back out now, you proceed to go further into the woods, a very bad idea, but your stubbornness overpowers your voice of reason a lot of the time. A sudden howl piercing through the sky stops you in your tracks. Wolves? No, that can't be. You must’ve misheard—it was probably just the wind, you tell yourself. But then, another howl echoes through the woods. Okay, wolves. Definitely wolves.

Quickening your pace, you decide to retrace your steps, hoping that will eventually lead you back to society. As you try to find your way out of the woods, you hear footsteps, multiple footsteps, heading toward you. Not wanting to risk a run-in with wolves, you take off running.

Unfortunately for you, you were never much of an athlete, so you end up tripping over a rock and falling, cutting your palm on the jagged ground. Cursing out loud, you pick yourself up and observe the cut; it was fairly deep, and blood continuously started to pour out of it, staining your hand. You frown and squeeze your hand, hoping to stop the blood from flowing.

Okay, now you definitely need to get out of the woods. If the wolves don’t get you, the inevitable infection from your wound will (though you’re being a bit dramatic). Frowning, you continue to head to where you think you came from.

Stumbling aimlessly through the eerie forest, you suddenly come upon a massive mansion. It looks like something straight out of the Victorian era, with towering spires, gothic architecture, and plenty of decay to match. Your small flashlight barely does it justice, making it hard to fully appreciate the mansion's haunting beauty.

Could this be it…? Remembering the whole reason you ventured into the woods, you head inside the mansion. You're determined to encounter at least one vampire tonight.

The heavy wooden doors groan as you push them open. You take a deep breath as you absorb the sight of the eerie mansion. Inside is a stark contrast to the exterior; it feels much more cohesive, with relatively recent furniture and a sense that the place isn’t falling apart.

The air stilled. It became quiet, too quiet. The only sound you can hear is the beating of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears. Gulping, you shakily make your way towards what you assume is the fireplace. It was dark, perfectly in line with the gothic theme that enveloped the entire building.

Above you hung a large portrait of two men, hauntingly beautiful, with pale, almost white skin and dark maroon eyes that seemed to pierce through you. Their jet-black hair framed their faces perfectly. They wore white blouses that you assume are from the Victorian era, adorned with very expensive jewellery. One man was slightly shorter than the other, but his looks would put any model to shame; his longer hair framed his face beautifully, making you think, "a fallen angel". The taller man had shorter hair and more sharper features, yet he appeared just as ethereal. His mesmerising eyes seemed to draw you in, almost as if they were sucking your soul. Another striking feature was their lips, a deep red, almost as rich as their eyes.

"Damn, if these guys are the vampires, then I wouldn't mind getting my blood sucked by them," you muse out loud.

"Oh really now?" A voice purred next to your ear. You whip your head around to see who it is, only to be greeted with nothing.

"W-Who was that?!" You shout, cursing under your breath as your voice comes out shakier than you'd like.

"I’m sure you already know who, bunny," a voice whispers from behind. You spin around, but there's only darkness.

"I-I know how to fight!" You yell, trying to sound confident.

"Ooh, a fighter. I like that," a deeper voice purrs, this time right next to you.

Suddenly, your phone is snatched from your hand, plunging you into complete darkness. Panicking, you throw punches into the air, hoping to hit something—anything—but you freeze when a hand catches your fist.

"She really is a fighter, Wonwoo," the first voice chuckles; even his laughter seems to have a surreal feel to it. You hear another low chuckle from behind, which you assume is Wonwoo.

Wonwoo then wraps his arms around your waist, plunges his nose into the crook of your neck, and takes a long whiff.

"You smell absolutely divine, doll," he moans; you can't help but shiver at his actions.

Suddenly, the room flickers to life with candlelight, making the already creepy mansion even more eerie. You can now see the man standing before you, and you gasp; it's the same man from the portrait, the one with the longer hair.

He gently uncurls your injured fist, running his tongue slowly along the wound, and lets out a moan. Your breath catches at the sight, and you can't help but shiver at his actions.

"She likes that, Jeonghan," chuckles Wonwoo. You blush at Wonwoo's words, embarrassed cause it's true.

"You want this just as bad, don't you, bunny?" Jeonghan purrs before licking another stripe up your palm, causing you to let out a soft whimper.

"Don't even try and deny it, doll; we can hear your heartbeat," whispers Wonwoo before licking the shell of your ear.

You gulp, your mouth dry as sandpaper, and your heartbeat thunders in your ears. Sure, you came into the woods hoping to encounter vampires, but now that they're standing right before you, you're unsure what to do. They're so alluring, their very presence making your head spin.

Wonwoo leans down, gently nipping at the skin of your neck, making your heart lurch. You can feel him smirk against your skin.

"It has been a while since we had a blood servant," he mumbles against your skin. Jeonghan hums, a small smirk painting his face.

"What do you say, bunny? Want to become our blood servant?" Jeonghan purrs.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, completely at a loss for words. Yes? No? If you say yes, are you doomed to serve them until death? If you say no, will they kill you on the spot? Your mind races, spinning with uncertainty. Maybe coming out here wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Looks like our little bunny is unsure," snickers Jeonghan.

"How about we give you a taste, then?" Wonwoo whispers before sinking his teeth into your neck.

You gasp and freeze, paralysed by the sudden sharp prick. You brace yourself for intense pain, but instead, you're flooded with overwhelming pleasure. It feels as though every nerve in your body is igniting, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you. Your arousal soaks your panties, and you can already feel it sticking to your skin. You've never experienced anything like this before—nothing even close. You close your eyes, savouring the sensation as your head spins. It feels like you're floating.

"I can smell your arousal from here, bunny. Does it feel good?" Smirks Jeonghan, you can only whimper in response.

"Barely drunk from you, and you're already dripping," Wonwoo chuckles against your neck.

He spins you around to face him, and you instinctively lick your lips as you take him in. Deep maroon eyes with a piercing gaze, skin so pale it's almost white, making his blood-stained lips stand out even more. He looks at you with a smirk.

He cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste your own blood—metallic and tangy. You melt into the kiss, already addicted to the way his lips feel against yours. Desperate for more, you press up against Wonwoo and start grinding against him. You can feel Wonwoo smirk into the kiss; Jeonghan chuckles at your actions.

"If you become our blood servant, I can guarantee you pleasure beyond what you've ever felt, bunny," hums Jeonghan.

Pulling away from the kiss, you turn toward Jeonghan; your mind clouded with thoughts of them and nothing else. Any sense of reason is long gone. Without a second thought, you agree—you'd say yes to anything at this point.

"Good choice, bunny," smirks Jeonghan before effortlessly carrying you. You gasp and wrap your arms and legs around him.

He sinks his teeth into your neck and starts drinking your blood. You let out a moan at the euphoric feeling washing over your body. Maybe it's because you're already lightheaded from the first time, but this feels ten times more intense. It's as if you've died and gone to heaven, but what's happening is far from heavenly.

Your whole body trembles, and you feel like you have just had an orgasm. You whine out Jeonghan's name as you feel him squeeze your ass. He detaches his lips from your neck and runs his tongue over the bite mark; you shiver at his actions.

Panting, you glance down at the vampire. His pupils are blown wide, lips stained with blood, and a smirk curling on his face. You catch a glimpse of his sharp canines as he watches you.

"We're lucky to have caught such a pretty blood servant," smirks Wonwoo, causing Jeonghan to chuckle.

"Let's take care of the aching between your thighs," hums Jeonghan. "I bet you want to be filled up with our cocks, right bunny?"

"I bet she can take both of us at once," chuckles Wonwoo, causing you to clench around nothing.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Jeonghan smirks before heading toward what you assume is their bedroom.

And that's how, on Halloween night, you became a blood servant—bound to serve the two vampires for the rest of your life.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @tomodachiii @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jennwonwoo

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[james-bucky-barnackle]

Froyo

Synopsis: During a premiere red carpet with Drew, an interviewer’s question accidentally reveals that a seemingly ordinary dinner was actually Drew’s attempt at a first date covered by two random tiktoks. Pairing: Drew Starkey x Actress!Reader Word Count: IDK I'm too sleep deprived to count A/N: I know I still owe you guys a Gwayne Hightower fanfic, but the chokehold Drew fucking Starkey has on me is insane. btw, I realized this is the second time I've created a fic based on real people vs the normal Marvel character thingy I do. And to be honest, there's gonna be a lot more... so maybe I should make this a series considering they're all triggered by an interview and Y/N's always an actress lol. ALSO at the end, there's a poll on what you think should happen next, and best believe I'll do my best to write that.

There’s an edit circulating on TikTok of you and your co-star Drew Starkey from your red carpet interview together. You’re both starring in an Amazon limited series about college classmates who become close after witnessing your professor’s murder and are now on a shared mission to solve the crime. You’ve known him closely for a year now, but have been following his career even before that. I mean, who wouldn’t? The man is gorgeous. But of course, you couldn’t let him know that.

As shooting began, the two of you grew closer, and you decided to be professional and put that whole fascination aside. You’ve both even dated other actors and celebrities, which have also been topics for gossip channels and paparazzi photos. Despite all that, you’ve hung out plenty, mostly in groups but also during breaks in filming—often grabbing lunch and coffee together.

Today, you and Drew are laughing as you finally see the edit that’s been at the top of both your PR’s nightmare list.

You’re dressed in an elegant beige gown, skin-tight and slightly sheer, which Carrie Bradshaw would definitely call the naked dress. Your hair is pulled back in a low bun, bangs effortlessly framing your face. You’ve just arrived at the red carpet, taking your time to chat with interviewers. The first few questions are light, mostly about how fun it was working on set and, of course, what you're wearing.

After a few minutes, Drew catches up to you. He’s in a baby blue suit, sepia shades covering his eyes, smelling incredible. His presence is like a tight, warm hug—well, a little tighter on your chest. His voice sends tingles down your spine as he whispers, one hand casually placed on the small of your back.

“What did I miss?” He smiles at you and the interviewer.

“Oh, nothing much, I was just telling Amelia how you’re always late to everything.” You smirk, shooting a playful look at the camera. Amelia, your interviewer, raises her eyebrows dramatically, playing along. Both of you laugh as Drew backs away, feigning offense.

“I’ve been here since like—” He starts to defend himself.

“Like five minutes ago,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Valid,” he agrees with a shrug, laughing.

Amelia continues her interview, moving on to ask about the possibility of a second season.

“I mean, yeah, I’d love to do a second season, for sure,” you nod, glancing at Drew, who’s nodding along, letting you take the lead. “But I’m not sure if it makes sense, since it was originally written as a one-season story. For that to happen, someone might have to die again so Kelsea and James can investigate something new.”

Kelsea and James are the names of the characters you play—who, of course, end up dating on the show.

“So you’re saying someone has to die for the two of you to get back together on set?” Amelia jokes, her deadpan delivery only making it funnier.

“I mean, I don’t know!” You laugh. “You’re twisting my words, Amelia!”

“I honestly think you just don’t want to hang out with me anymore, Y/N,” Drew chimes in, a playful pout on his face. “I’m hurt.”

“Is that why there wasn’t a second date?” Amelia asks, teasingly. Her tone is light, but the question lands hard. Drew’s eyes widen in surprise, his smile freezing as if even he didn’t see that one coming. He covers his mouth, trying not to laugh while you stand there, looking utterly confused.

“Second date? What?” You laugh, trying to figure out if this is some sort of red carpet joke you weren’t briefed on. You glance at Drew, who’s just shaking his head, still grinning but not offering any explanations.

You lower your voice, leaning towards him, “What is she—what date?” You chuckle awkwardly, trying to maintain your cool, though the confusion is clearly written all over your face. Drew glances at Amelia, then back at you, and you can tell he feels a little bad now.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of awkward silence, Drew admits, “When we got dinner and froyo.” He says it so nonchalantly that it takes you a second to process.

“That was a date?!” you whisper-yell, smacking his arm, your jaw practically hitting the floor. “You said it was just dinner!”

“I know!” Drew laughs, his cheeks turning a little pink. “I said that because I thought you didn’t like me back! I was sending out signals!”

“What signals?” you ask, still reeling from the shock. “That’s unfair, you said it was just dinner! I feel so bad—I didn’t know!” You place your hand on his arm, squeezing it apologetically. You’re both laughing now, but you’re also genuinely flustered.

“I did tell you!” Drew protests. “I said, ‘Do you want to have dinner with me?’ And you were like, ‘Are we bringing Madz along?’ And when I said no, you were like, ‘Why?’”

“That is not enough, Drew!” You laugh, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your PR team is probably dying, but at least this little moment might boost some publicity for the show. You actually remember the video Amelia might be referring to; your assistant had sent it to you a few months back. You found it interesting and even funny because you honestly thought it was just a fan shipping the two of you together—cutting together videos and photos of you and Drew when you were out to eat. You try to recall what that day was like and pick apart whatever signals Drew was referring to, but you really can’t remember anything different from the way he’s interacted with you since you two first met.

You realize the gag has gone on long enough and decide to wrap it up before the awkwardness can escalate further.

“Amelia, I’m so sorry about this,” you say with a dramatic sigh, trying to regain your composure. “Even while confessing his undying love for me, he’s still late. Men, what can you do?”

Drew, still chuckling, wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his way of apologizing. You feel a warmth settle over you, even as your mind is still catching up to everything.

The camera flashes pop around you, and suddenly, those TikTok edits of you looking perpetually confused start to make a little more sense.

When the premiere starts, halfway through the screening, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You check your makeup, but instead of heading straight back to the theater, you decide to take a moment. The whole "date reveal" situation has thrown you off more than you realized, and you need a second to process it. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, replaying the interview in your head. You haven't had the chance to talk to Drew about it since, and the thought lingers in the back of your mind. You don’t want another clueless moment to make it into the tabloids.

You wash your hands, fix your makeup, and prepare to head back out. But as you step through the door, you see Drew standing there, waiting.

“Well, look who it is—the jokester,” you say, crossing your arms with a mock grin. “Here to ask me out on another one-sided date?”

Drew smirks, stepping closer. “Huh? What are you talking about? I’m just here to pee,” he teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Not funny,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but feeling a smile tug at the corner of your mouth.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” His smile softens, and for the first time since the red carpet, you can tell he actually feels a little guilty. “I really am.”

“You should be!” You huff, but your tone is playful now, your annoyance melting away as you meet his eyes. "That was so long ago."

Drew takes a step closer, and you suddenly become very aware of the quietness around you. It’s just the two of you now, the noise of the premiere distant, almost forgotten. His gaze flickers to your lips for just a second, and your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N…” He hesitates, like he’s trying to find the right words. “About that second date…”

“You mean actual first date?” you correct him, raising an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool.

Drew pauses, then chuckles softly. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actual first date. What do you think?”

You stare at him, caught off guard. You weren’t expecting him to just put it out there like that. His easygoing nature usually means he hides behind jokes or avoids direct confrontation. But now, with no cameras, no noise—just you and him—he’s being sincere.

“You know,” you say, your voice quieter now, “if you made it clear the first time, I still would’ve said yes.”

Drew’s eyes widen slightly, and a smile slowly spreads across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief and excitement. “Really.”

His grin widens, and there’s something boyishly excited about it, like you’ve just given him the best news of the day. “No froyo this time, I promise.”

“Good,” you laugh. “Because that wasn’t a date.”

“Duly noted.” He steps closer, his hand brushing yours, and this time it doesn’t feel accidental. His fingers curl around yours lightly, the touch sending a spark through you.

“You know, we could leave early,” he suggests, glancing back towards the theater. “Skip the rest of the screening, maybe grab some dinner… somewhere where I make it clear it’s a date.”

You bite your lip, considering it, but your eyes narrow playfully. “And deal with the wrath of our PR teams later? You must love living dangerously.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You make a good point. But I promise, after all the photos, after all the interviews... we’ll do this right.”

You nod, smiling at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With that, you both walk back into the theater. His hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before he finally lets go, and even as you take your seats for the rest of the screening, the air between you has changed.

You glance at him once more, feeling that familiar warmth return, only this time, it’s not confusing or awkward.

The noise of the film dims around you, though you’re still hyper-aware of the room, the hundreds of eyes on the screen, and the occasional flash from the press in the back. Drew leans back in his seat, arms crossed loosely, but he’s not watching the movie either. Instead, he looks over at you, catching your eye.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you quickly face forward, pretending to focus on the movie. But then, from the corner of your vision, you feel him move slightly closer. The tension that was always there, that you’d pushed aside so many times, is undeniable now.

After the premiere ends, there’s the usual round of applause and the hum of people slowly rising to leave. Drew stands up first, offering you his hand, and even though you can stand up just fine on your own, you take it. There’s something about that gesture that feels significant—like you’ve crossed a line you didn’t realize you were approaching until now.

You’re both still in work mode, nodding and smiling at the industry people you pass, but the moment you’re outside, the cool night air hitting your face, Drew turns to you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “How do you feel about grabbing that dinner tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard by how fast he’s moving. “Tonight? We just got out of the premiere,” you laugh, though there’s excitement bubbling under the surface. “I know, but if I wait any longer, who knows what crazy schedules we’ll get caught up in again.” He steps closer, his smile genuine, warm. “I’ve waited this long to actually do it right. What’s a few more hours?"

“Alright,” you say, a grin breaking through. “Let’s do it. Dinner—our actual first date.”

His eyes light up. “Great. I know a place.”

The restaurant Drew takes you to is tucked away, quiet and intimate, and you laugh at how quaint it is, most of the other diners are old enough to be your grandparents. You feel comfort knowing most of them don't have phones let alone know who the both of you are. For all they care, you could be two kids coming home from a costume party just ending the night with a bite.

“So,” you say as you both sit down, menus in hand but neither of you really looking at them. “This is what a proper date feels like, huh?”

Drew leans back in his chair, grinning. “Better than froyo, right?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Significantly better.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, the kind where you both just look at each other and realize this is happening—really happening. You’re on a date with Drew, and it’s not some PR stunt or a casual hangout. It’s real. And for the first time, you’re letting yourself want it. "You think they're wondering why we're over dressed?" You hide behind a menu. "Overdressed? Excuse me? This is what I wear everyday." Drew retorts, making you chortle.

“So,” you say, resting your chin on your hand, “What’s the plan after this? Froyo?”

Drew chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He grins, eyes glinting with that same playful energy you’ve always liked. “Well, I’ll make sure tonight’s memorable enough that it overshadows that.”

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[thedevilrisen]

Sunsets & Daisies

Luke Hughes x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Description: Luke Hughes and his fiancée always have an annual spring photo shoot, this year for their fourth anniversary Luke gets some welcome news.

Every year, when September hits Luke and Y/N venture to some decadently and much fought over location for their annual photo shoot. What once started with the two cramming into a Photo Booth, drunk on Luke’s birthday became somewhat of their tradition.

This year Y/N had practically begged Luke to relinquish all control he had and give it to her, given as of recently a huge surprise - a future altering surprise, was now at play. It had been almost nine months since Luke proposed and with the wedding two days away the couple thought this would be the perfect time to have the shoot before the season starts.

The location was about a forty-five out of Michigan, and was scheduled for the late afternoon in an attempt to achieve some sunset lit pictures. Luke’s sling added to the difficulty of getting ready, being sure not to accidentally aggravate his shoulder while also trying to get the polo shirt on was a massive task.

"You're too tall Lukey, can you bend down a sec?" you murmured, making sure to gently thread the bunched fabric over his injured shoulder first. The swollen, bruised skin making you grimace as Luke hissed through his teeth when you rotated his arm to allow the other one to slip through. "Sorry bub."

"It's alright." Luke whispered, "You're doing your best and their isn't much else we can do for the pain."

"You can have another does of pain killers when we get there, I'll put them in my purse for you to take before we get there.” The girl spoke as she put said medicine in her purse, among other essentials as well as today’s surprise. While she was allowed the liberty of preparing the surprise with the photographer by graciously offering to organise this year's photo shoot, claiming that Luke already does to much. However if Luke told you the story, it would have been told so dramatically the person listening would have assumed you held him at gunpoint. Which was completely untrue. You had used a hot spatula.

"Sounds, good." Luke spoke, grabbing a cap, using it to brush his hair back so it sat perfectly. You could see the one handed struggle he was having as you watched his scrunched up face in the mirror.

With a heavy sigh you crossed your arms, staring at him in the mirror, "Luke, if you think for a second you are wearing that cap during the shoot you have a lot more concerning things to worry about rather then your shoulder."

“I wouldn’t dare, it’s just till we get there so my hair doesn’t get super frizzy.” Luke stated, giving a pointed look as he turned back around and started to walk over to where you sat at the vanity, brushing the last bits of makeup across your face with the brush before turning the light switch and watching the bulbs dim till the room was bathed in darkness.

Exiting down the hallway and plucking the seperate car, house and gate keys off of their designated wall hooks in the entry way, playing them into your purse knowing because of Luke’s arm, even though he would insist on driving you will have to. Walking into the kitchen, hand brushing past the marble countertop, fingers drifting over the bunch of bananas sitting on the stone as you contemplated what you wanted to eat as well as a snack to take.

Luke trotted down the stairs quickly, heavy footsteps sounding out, softened by carpet but still loud enough to contemplate whether or not an elephant was storming throughout your house. “Should I wear my white sneakers? Or my blue ones?”

“I’d wear the blue.. well they are navy actually. There might be red dirt there and it will be easier to get it out of the blue rather than the white.” you said with an analytical tone, thinking best about the circumstances. “Besides, they will work well with your shirt.”

You heard Luke shuffle off down the hallway to the mud room, where you had all the shoes stowed away in little cubby cubes under the coat rack.

“Can you grab my black ankle boots please?” you requested as you opened the fridge, still in search for snacks you knew you were going to want inevitably. It was remarkable how dense men were sometimes, Luke, who knows you inside and out hasn’t even put a thought as to why you may be eating more or why you wanted one food constantly. Almost like you were craving, something.

“The ones with the little chain?” Luke called back out, you could hear him pulling the weaved baskets in and out.

“No! The ones with the little ribbing down the side of the legs?” You spoke, albeit louder so it carried down the hall into the room Luke was in.

“So the ones with the chain!” Luke’s tone matched yours, his with filtered confusion. He was holding said boots, they were black with a tan, woody coloured block on the heel of them, although it added little height and across the ribbed stitching on the side of the boots was a dainty little gold chain.

From where you were standing, brow creased as you looked into the fridge, eyes darting from the bread to make some toast, to the eggs which you could quickly scramble and maybe put on the toast. Then your eyes locked with the packet of dark chocolate covered almonds. Now they would be good.

“Y/N!” Luke cried, still looking at the boots as he waited for an answer. Looking at the wall with a expression of concern and disbelief.

“They aren’t the same boot Luke! They are different bo-“ Y/N cut herself off as Luke wandered into the kitchen, boots in hand. “Oh. But they are two different boots! I swear they are!”

Slamming the fridge door shut, discarding the loaf of raisin toast and butter container and jar of strawberry jam on to bench, crouching and letting the items fall from your arms onto the bench with a clink from the glass jar. You rounded the counter, using your hand to prevent you from bumping your hip bone on the stone.

Luke watched as you damn near jogged, more of a hop, skip and jump down the hall towards the mud room. It was cute, watching your light anger in being wrong show through your actions. Listening to the manic shuffling of the woven crates as you pulled them out of each of their cubby shelves only to see they weren’t the pair of shoes you thought existed, but clearly didn’t. When you came stomping back down the hall with a heavy pout and furrowed brow, giving the boots which matched the description you gave with disdain.

“You were right.” Your tone was short and sad.

“Yeah.. is that upsetting you?” Luke asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“It is. It shouldn’t but it is.” You spoke in an incredulous tone. Moving back over to the bench, fingers toying with the plastic covering the bread loaf. You felt as if you wanted to yell, cry and scream all at the same time. Darn mood swings.

Luke just laughed, a rich hearty sound that made your knees wobble as you screwed open the jam jar, placing the raisin toast into the toaster, waiting and ruffling through different packets of chips in the snack drawer picking out two and throwing them in Luke’s direction.

“What flavours do you want?” You asked, still swatting your way through the chip drawer.

“I’m not going to be hungry. I ate before remember?” Luke looked up from his phone.

“Okay the-“ you cut yourself off as the toaster popped up, bringing the raisin toast with it. You grabbed the toast out, flinging it onto the bench after realising it was too hot to just hold onto.

Smearing the butter and jam onto the slices of toast, shoving one into your mouth holding it in your teeth as you turned and placed the bread and condiments back into the fridge. After taking a solid, hearty bite of the toast you placed it back onto the bench, not minding the crumbs that dropped off it. You grabbed the boots from where they sat next to the kitchen island counter and slipped your feet into them, the black tights you were wearing to battle the brisk september air aiding in your pursuit.

"Are you ready to go?" Luke looked up as you asked him this, stretching his none injured arm out, then slotting his phone into his back pocket.

"Whenever you are!" He replied enthusiastically, standing up and holding his hand out for you. He watched as you grabbed your purse, still holding your piece of toast trying not to let the jam dribble down your hand. Luke held the front door open as you stepped out and followed the path to where the car was parked in the driveway. You pressed down on the key fob to unlock the door so you could slide into the driver seat while Luke situated himself in the passenger seat, awkwardly reach across his body to pull the seat belt over and click it into place.

Mirroring Luke, albeit with more ease you strapped yourself in before pulling backwards out of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic. Heading to the stop sign at the end of the street, pulling away from the suburban area and driving away from the city after taking an entry onto the highway to go south. Luke had taken care of the music, connecting his phone to the car via aux cord and playing the majority of his songs, with your input for a song here and there.

"Play that Garth Brooks one.. the country one Jack really likes." you spoke, voice raised slightly to project over the song that was currently playing.

"Why would I play that?" Luke questioned back, his face skeptical.

"Because Callin' Baton Rouge is a fantastic song. Now play it." you responded, looking in the rearview mirror, checking the lanes next to you before merge into the exit turning lane, heading down a rural street where the sides of the road was lined with fences holding cattle in and big tall trees acting as a windbreak.

Even though he had absolutely no idea where the final destination was Luke was staring to catch on that it might have something to do with a field, something very nature-y. He was right, or by the fact that you pulled up next to a white toyota camry near the entrance gate to a field which was bordered with a small forest. Following you and getting out of the car, he watched as you ambled over, shook the young woman's hand.

"Luke, this is Kelly. She will be doing our photos this year." Y/N introduced the photographer, it was obvious that she wasn't a random due to the high quality canon camera she was cradling in one arm.

"Pleasure to meet you." Luke exchanged pleasantries with the woman before the little group of three set off into the field, heading towards the treeline. There was a dirt track that Luke could hear led down toward a creek, he could see why you had told him not to wear his good white shoes, there was a certain chance his shoes would be getting a little dirty.

With all credit to you, he had to admit that the spot was absolutely stunning and he couldn't imagine a more perfect place for the photos. Particularly when the dense foliage thins out and he can see the beautiful architecture of some kind of ruined building. Nature had taken over, vines crawling all up the elegant arches which were bathed in late afternoon sun.

"This is beautiful darlin'" Luke murmured in your ear as he looked up from where he was perched on a rock, this was just one of the many positions and places Kelly had you too stand, sit, hug, kiss, smile or laugh for the photos. He already seemed elated at the fact the photoshoot was happening, he hadn't even gotten the news that was turning your stomach inside out with nerves. Or was it something else?

"Okay, Luke, can you turn and face the creek? I need Y/N behind you, and then you are going to turn around." Kelly asked, setting up for the final shot of the big moment. She winked at you as you pulled the little reel of photos out of your purse. Taking a deep calming breath as you stood behind him, holding the photos that represented your future with Luke, you hands were shaking but you stood. "Okay Luke. Turn around for me."

As Luke did you met his briefly before they locked onto the ultrasound photos you held for him to see. His beaming smile dropped into a gape as he looked at the photos dumbfounded, but it quickly returned as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. Instead he scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as the camera clicked. Capturing this moment forever, allowing you to reflect on it and show it to family and friends.

"Your- Your seriously." Luke stammered, placing you down, cradling the side of your head as well as the side of your stomach.

"Yeah.. I am." you smiled back, matching his grin with one just as bright.

He pulled away turning away and pumping the air before shouting into the forest clearing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

Yes you are Luke Hughes, a damn great one.

[enlysia]

WINTER THINGS ❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆ ENHYPEN OT7

❛ my baby's in town and we're gonna do

some winter things ❜

enhypen and cute christmas drabbles / headcanons

genre — fluff pairing — bf!enha x gn!reader

warnings — cliché and tooth rotting fluff. comfort. skinship. lighthearted teasing. bad attempt at humor :/ lots of kisses :3

word count — 2.3k

this is a work of fiction, which does not accurately portray or represent the people included.

author note — this is my first literary attempt on here (i've wrote before though) so i hope you enjoy~♡ reblogs, likes and comments are so sooo appreciated >.< ALSO merry christmas lovies !

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⋆ ⠀˳. ⋆ ⠀˳. ⠀⋆ ⠀ 🤍 ⠀⋆ ⠀˳. ⠀⋆ ⠀˳. ⠀⋆

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶

— LEE HEESEUNG (이희승)

a disco ball spins lazily overhead, casting scintillating light across the scene and highlighting your stunning features as you sing and dance with carefree abandon. the energy in the karaoke room is electric, pure ecstasy, filled with giggles and love as you and heeseung luxuriate in this festive experience together.

neon lights flicker, casting a fancy glow on the walls, while oversized snowflakes drift from the ceiling. tinsel wraps around the edges, and small christmas trees are scattered throughout, adding whimsy to the scene. the glossy ebony floor reflects the vibrance of the room, shifting in time with the music.

at center stage, side by side, you stand in matching festive sweaters, each one accentuated with cheeky designs, and santa hats perched jauntily atop your heads. the large screen ahead flashes the lyrics to holiday classics, like “last christmas,” inviting you to sing along. the microphone passes back and forth between you, laughter dissipating in the air as you alternate singing each line, teasing one another with exaggerated, dramatic performances. the energy is lighthearted, infectious—humor and charm woven into every note.

heeseung sings with effortless flair, his voice steady and angelic: “last christmas, i gave you my heart…”

you join in, your voice bubbly, slightly off-key: “but the very next day, you gave it away…”

heeseung grins, delivering the next line with dramatic finesse: “this year, to save me from tears…”

you slowly step closer, your motion calculated, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips, singing: “i’ll give it to someone special…”

crackles fill the atmosphere between you, the music fading as your eyes meet. the world around you seems to still, the tension palpable. without a word, you reach out, pulling him in for a soft, light kiss—brief, but sweet, leaving a flutter of butterflies in your chest. the moment feels unexpectedly intimate, a perfect harmony to the uplifting pandemonium surrounding you.

you pull away slowly, breathless, smiles blooming across your flushed faces. heeseung snickers, his eyes twinkling with affection. “guess i just gave you my heart.”

“best christmas gift ever,” you beam, your eyes sparkling with mischief, a playful contrast to his soft smile.

ㅤ──────────────────────────

— PARK JAY (박종성)

in the cozy warmth of the kitchen, you’re swept up in the joyful chaos of baking gingerbread cookies with jay. flour dusts the countertops and clings to your clothes, creating a soft, white duvet of mess around you—reminiscent of delicate snowflakes. laughter saturates the air as you take turns feeding each other pieces of raw dough, your fingers lightly dusted with flour as you gently press the sticky mixture to each other's mouths.

christmas songs echo through the culinary space, reverberating against the walls and in your chests as you both chant together, lost in the euphoria of the moment, exchanging loving glances that speak louder than words.

jay laughs, reaching forward to wipe a smudge of flour from your lips. “i don’t think we’re baking cookies anymore. i think we’re just making a mess.”

“we’re going to need a snowplow at this point,” you reply with a grin, flicking a bit of dough at him.

“it looks like we’ve been caught in a flour blizzard!” he exclaims, tossing a handful of flour at you like a snowball.

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmur, cracking up as you toss some back at him.

“didn’t know humans could create a snowstorm,” he teases, closing the distance between you, his flour-covered hands leaving fingerprints on your cheeks as he gently cups your face and sows a tender peck to your lips.

you lean in to return the sweet caress. the flour on your faces smears, only adding to the charm of the moment. your love fills the kitchen, blending with the warm, sweet scent of baking cookies and the gentle illumination of holiday lights dancing around you. it’s a perfect, simple moment of bliss, shared between you—lost in the miracle of the season and the alchemy of your connection.

ㅤ──────────────────────────

— SIM JAKE (심재윤)

the soothing notes of soft jazz sweep through the living room, blending harmoniously with the gentle sound of snowflakes tapping against the windows, creating a serene, wintery symphony.

you and jake stand close together beneath the christmas tree, its twinkling lights casting a comforting shine that waltzes across the homemade ornaments adorning its branches. the tree stands proudly in the corner, already surrounded by a growing pile of carefully bundled gifts.

laughter bubbles between you both as you wrap each other in sparkling tinsel. the lustrous silver and gold strands wind around you like a cozy winter cocoon, shimmering with each movement. playful bickering dominates the air as you both try to outdo each other, draping the tinsel in ever more extravagant loops, each determined to “mummify” the other in the most festive way possible. every touch unites you, a silent promise of love and connection woven into the twinkle of the tinsel.

the warmth of the moment engulfs the room and your hearts, as you revel in the sweet bond of togetherness and lighthearted disagreement.

“you’re wrapping it too tight! i can’t even move!” you object, attempting to wriggle free from the glossed restraints.

jake chuckles, clearly pleased with his work. “you look so festive... like the living version of the christmas spirit!”

“i look like i’m stuck in a tinsel straightjacket!” you groan, rolling your eyes dramatically.

jake’s grin widens, his eyes alive with mischief. “well, now you can’t escape all the kisses i plan to give you.” with that, he leans in, planting a series of soft, lingering kisses on your face, each one drawing a giggle from you despite your playful protests.

ㅤ──────────────────────────

— PARK SUNGHOON (박성훈)

beneath the soft glow of twinkling christmas lights, you stand at the edge of the ice, at the heart of a vintage ice-skating rink. the rink’s aged charm is alive with the laughter and warmth of friends and families gliding gracefully across the frozen sheet, their joy filling the frosty air. the atmosphere is an effortless blend of nostalgia and festive cheer, with colorful lights casting an echo on the rink’s frosty smooth, glistening surface.

you hesitate, your breath catching in the cool, crisp air. the crystal gleams before you, the facade stretching out in a perfect, inviting expanse, yet your feet feel rooted to the ground. a flicker of doubt crosses your mind as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, watching the skaters cruise fluently by. the thought of slipping, of losing your balance, twists your stomach into knots.

“yeah, i think we definitely need the skating penguin aid,” sunghoon teases, extending his hand with a grin, his eyes glinting with tomfoolery. he gestures toward the rink with mock grandeur. “unless you want me to wrap you in bubble wrap first.”

“shut up, i’m fine,” you murmur, though the panic is evident as you grab his hand like a lifeline. “i’m totally fine, i just... don’t want to die today.”

he laughs, the sound warm and reassuring. his gaze softens as he squeezes your hand, grounding you with his touch. “don’t worry,” he says with a playful smile. “you’re not going to die, i promise. i’ll protect you... unless i fall first, in which case, we’re both doomed.”

“you’re a pro. you won’t fall,” you mutter, throwing him a skeptical side-eye.

“exactly,” he replies nonchalantly. “now hold on tight. i’ll make you a skating pro in no time—or at least keep you from face-planting.” his grin widens as he pulls you close, his steady hands guiding you as he nuzzles in to plant a soft-spoken kiss to your forehead. the warmth of his embrace lingers, a gentle promise of both support and affection, keeping you centered as you take your first shaky steps onto the ice.

amidst the festive bustle of the holiday season—surrounded by laughter, christmas melodies, and the rhythmic sound of skates cutting through the ice—you share this moment together. it’s a sweet, tender embrace, where your hearts beat in perfect harmony, filled with love, coziness, and the magic of the season.

ㅤ──────────────────────────

— KIM SUNOO (김선우)

within the crisp winter air, you find yourself seated in a ferris wheel cabin, suspended high above a bustling winter wonderland. the gentle motion of the ride slows, as if time itself has paused to savor this fleeting moment. around you, the ferris wheel glows with festive decorations—twinkling fairy lights, ribbons, and garlands entwining a spell of seasonal enchantment.

below, the holiday fair stretches out like a canvas of shimmering christmas lights, their warm glow spilling over streets and rooftops. the distant hum of carols and laughter drifts upward, blending seamlessly with the stillness of the night. in this tranquil embrace, the world below blurs, leaving only the soft presence of sunoo beside you and the serene beauty of the season.

you gaze beneath, your voice barely a whisper. “this doesn't feel real. it’s like a snow globe.”

sunoo’s eyes remain on you, a small sneer playing at his lips. “it is.”

you turn to him, holding back a giggle as your eyes sparkle. “you’re not even looking at the fair.”

he shrugs, his voice laced with hazy charm. “why would i? i’ve already got the best view right here.”

“you’re so corny,” you tease, rolling your eyes as you nudge him playfully.

the ferris wheel creaks as it pauses at its peak, the view stretching endlessly around you. sunoo reaches for your gloved hand, his fingers interlocking with yours as he gazes into your eyes, his expression mellow.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, a slight hesitation in his voice.

you nod, your cheeks flushed from the cold—and maybe from something else. “you don’t need to ask.”

he inches closer, and your lips meet in a kiss that feels suspended in time. the world below fades into a blur of fluorescence, the cold long forgotten as you lose yourself in the moment. when you finally pull away, your cheeks are even redder, your breath coming in soft bursts as you let out a quiet laugh.

ㅤ──────────────────────────

— YANG JUNGWON (양정원)

the late winter breeze mingled with the deep midnight blues as you and jungwon stood side by side in the soft, falling snow in the park. hands wrapped in mittens and bundled up in scarves and coats, you rolled large snowballs together, giggling at the clumsy mishaps that unfolded with each playful turn. the cold air nipped at your faces, but the heat between you made the breeze feel almost comforting. you worked in harmony, shaping the snow into a snowman, your palms brushing against each other with every gentle adjustment, each stroke a silent exchange of affection in the quiet of the night.

when the snowman was finally complete, jungwon’s face lit up with a proud grin, his voice full of childlike excitement. “we’re finally done!” he exclaimed, as though you’d just achieved something monumental.

you beamed back at him, feeling the thrill of the instant. but before you could gather yourself, he pulled you close, spinning you in the soft, snowflakes cascading from above. you gasped in surprise, chuckles pouring out of your lips as you tumbled together, the snowman toppling over with a dramatic thud, burying itself in the white blanket below.

you both landed in the icy duvet, gasping with laughter. jungwon, eyes shining with impishness, smirked at the fallen frosty figure and then turned to you, his voice teasing. “guess it’s nap time!”

you shook your head in playful exasperation. “really? you had to do that?”

his cat-like eyes glinted with amusement as he shot you a wide, cheeky grin. “it wasn’t my fault! the snowman just wanted a nap.”

“a nap? it was standing perfectly!” you replied, letting out a dramatic sigh, your breath puffing in the crispy air.

“it had dreams, okay?” jungwon sniggered, his voice warm and teasing. then, with a sly gleam in his gaze, he leaned in. his lips brushed softly against yours, a delicate, lingering kiss that felt like the quiet flare of a secret shared between you. the blanket of stars above seemed to shimmer even brighter, as if the universe itself had held its breath, adding a touch of magic to the moment.

ㅤ──────────────────────────

— NISHIMURA RIKI (西村力)

you and riki are staying in a cozy, rustic cabin nestled deep in the woods, smothered by freshly fallen snow. the log exterior of the cabin is dusted with fragile snowflakes, while hazy, golden light spills from the windows, casting a warm, peaceful glow on the world outside. a wreath of pine branches adorned with bright red ribbons hangs cheerfully on the front door, adding a festive touch to the winter landscape.

inside, the neon lights of the christmas tree shimmer and sway, casting faint, colorful shadows on your faces while the comforting taste of hot chocolate lingers on your lips. the scent of pine and cinnamon hangs in the air, a perfect synchrony of winter fragrances that floods your senses. wrapped in the woolen blanket fort you built earlier, you huddle close by the stone fireplace, the only sounds being the hissing of the flames and the occasional bursts of laughter you share while watching your favorite holiday classics.

“this fort looks like it’s going to collapse any second,” you say, glancing up at the leaning blankets with a mischievous hint of worry.

riki’s laughter fills the space as the fort creaks ominously.

his eyes shine with playful schemes as he turns to you. “nah, this fort could rival the pyramids. a true wonder of the world.”

you snort, giving his arm a lighthearted shove. “if the pyramids were built with chairs and duct tape.”

he grins, feigning mock offense. “stop! this is engineering excellence at its finest.”

“as long as you’re happy,” you tease, your heartfelt smile full of compassion as your gaze meets his.

with a soft chuckle, riki delicately tugs you closer, gifting a tender kiss to your forehead. his fingers gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch prolonged as the moment feels timeless—mute, safe, and filled with true love.

ㅤ──────────────────────────

© enlysia ᐸ/3² ― 2024 — all rights reserved. do not copy, plagiarize, translate my work, or post it on other sites.

ccto for the cute dividers

[ialreadymadeyouapromise]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: misunderstandings, no use of y/n GENRE: angst, fluff, idiots to lovers SONG INSPIRATION: waiting all night - ella eyre WORD COUNT: 4.4k

navigation | inbox | evan buckley masterlist

“come on, you’ll love him!” evan said, leaning forward over the table. his eyes were wide, earnest, and a little too excited for your comfort.

you shot him a skeptical look over the rim of your coffee cup, raising an eyebrow as you sipped slowly. “that’s what you said about the last guy, and he thought supernatural was a documentary.”

evan groaned, dropping his head back dramatically like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

“uh huh.” you put your mug down and crossed your arms. “i’m starting to think you’re intentionally sabotaging my social life.”

“first of all, rude.” evan leaned back, his hand running through his already tousled hair. “second, this guy is different. he’s smart. funny. likes dogs–”

“everyone likes dogs, buck,” you cut in, unimpressed.

he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table and giving you that lopsided grin that always seemed to get him out of trouble. “fair point. but he’s also a firefighter. you already have that in common. and he’s got a great sense of humor, i swear. you’re gonna hit it off. i can feel it.”

“mhm” you said, your voice flat. “because your matchmaking track record is so stellar.”

evan winced, but his grin didn’t falter. “hey, third time’s the charm, right?”

you sighed, tapping your fingers against your coffee cup as you studied his expression. he looked so hopeful, like he genuinely believed this would work. it was hard to stay mad at someone who cared so much, even if his previous attempts had been disasters. 

still, you weren’t convinced.

“why are you so determined to set me up, anyway?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. “i didn’t ask for your help, you know.”

evan hesitated, and for a moment, his usual carefree demeanor slipped. his grin faltered, and something flickered in his eyes. a vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing. it was there and gone in an instant, so quick you almost missed it, but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

“because…” he paused, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. then, he met your gaze again, his expression softer than before. “i just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, tugging at something in your chest you didn’t want to acknowledge. you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. instead, you just stared at him, the weight of his words settling between you.

when the silence stretched too long, you rolled your eyes and muttered, “fine. but if this goes south, you owe me.”

evan’s face lit up, his grin returning. “deal.” he leaned back, looking far too pleased with himself. “you won’t regret this, i promise.”

“mm-hmm,” you said, picking up your coffee again. “we’ll see about that.”

the date was set for friday night at a new restaurant that everyone had been raving about. it was one of those places with dim lighting, sleek decor, and a menu filled with dishes that sounded just fancy enough to justify their price. 

you weren’t sure if it was the kind of spot you’d choose for yourself, but evan insisted it was perfect.

after a last minute call to a friend for a second opinion. you decided on a black dress that made you feel confident. it was simple yet elegant, the kind of outfit that walked the line between effort and ease. you paired it with your favorite heels, the ones that made you a little taller but didn’t leave you regretting your life choices after an hour.

a swipe of your favourite lipstick completed the look. you weren’t expecting to fall head over heels for some random guy, but you figured it couldn’t hurt to look your best.

when you arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, the air smelled like garlic, rosemary, and sizzling butter. the hostess greeted you with a polished smile and guided you to a small table near the window. you had the perfect view of the bustling street outside, where couples strolled hand in hand and taxis honked impatiently.

you glanced at your phone one last time to confirm the details. his name was alex, and according to evan, he was tall, dark haired, and charming in a low key, unpretentious way. you imagined a guy with an easy laugh, someone who could carry a conversation but didn’t dominate it. the thought calmed your nerves, at least a little.

as the minutes ticked by, you alternated between checking the door and pretending to be engrossed in the menu. you ordered a glass of wine to keep your hands busy and your mind distracted. when ten minutes passed, you told yourself he was probably stuck in traffic. fifteen minutes? maybe parking was a nightmare.

by the time twenty minutes had gone by, your confidence started to waver. you tried not to let it show, smoothing your dress and keeping your posture upright, but the excuses in your head began to sound hollow. you resisted the urge to pull out your phone, not wanting to look like someone who had been stood up.

at the thirty minute mark, the reality of the situation was impossible to ignore. your stomach twisted as the truth set in, he wasn’t coming. you stared at the candle flickering in the middle of the table, wishing it would burn down faster so you had an excuse to blow it out and leave.

heat crept up the back of your neck, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. the restaurant suddenly felt too crowded, the noise of laughter and clinking glasses grating on your nerves. you wanted to crawl under the table and never come out, or better yet, disappear entirely.

you took a sip of your wine, willing it to soothe the knot of disappointment in your chest. so much for first impressions, you thought bitterly.

you pulled out your phone, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debated what to say. frustration and embarrassment warred inside you, but ultimately, you decided there was only one person who needed to hear about this disaster.

you: your friend stood me up. this is officially the worst date of my life.

you stared at the message for a moment before hitting send, feeling both annoyed and vindicated. evan had been so insistent, so sure this guy was perfect, and now you were sitting here like an idiot with a full glass of wine and no date.

the reply came almost instantly.

buck: what??? no way.

buck: stay put. i’ll be there in 15.

you blinked at your phone, rereading the message twice to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. a mix of disbelief and relief settled over you. typical buck, always jumping in like he had to save the day. it was infuriating sometimes, but at this moment, you were just grateful you didn’t have to endure the rest of the evening alone.

the waiter arrived with your wine as you tucked your phone away, and you nodded your thanks, taking a slow sip to calm your nerves. the wine was smooth and rich, but it did little to soothe the knot of frustration in your chest. 

you glanced around the restaurant, feeling more self conscious than ever. it wasn’t like anyone here knew you’d been stood up, but the knowledge gnawed at you anyway.

exactly fifteen minutes later, the sound of the restaurant door opening pulled your attention. you looked up to see evan  walking in. he wasn’t dressed for a night out, just his usual jeans, leather jacket and a fitted shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, but somehow, his casual confidence made him stand out among the suits and dresses in the room.

he spotted you immediately, his face lighting up. with an easy stride, he wove through the tables, his hand brushing the back of a chair or two as he navigated the crowded space. when he reached your table, he slid into the seat across from you, his expression softening into one of genuine concern.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, his blue eyes searching yours. “i swear, if i see that guy again, i’m gonna–”

“buck,” you interrupted, holding up a hand to stop his rant. his protective streak was endearing, but you weren’t in the mood for it. “it’s fine. these things happen.”

his frown deepened, clearly not convinced. “no, it’s not fine. you didn’t deserve that. you deserve someone who’ll show up and actually appreciate you.”

the sincerity in his voice made your stomach flutter, the warmth of his words catching you off guard. you looked away, fiddling with the stem of your wineglass as you tried to brush off the sudden rush of feelings.

“well,” you said after a moment, glancing back at him with a small smile, “you’re here now. so, technically, you’re my date.”

his lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “guess i am. you cool with that?”

you laughed, the sound easing some of the tension lingering in your chest. “honestly? yeah. you’re already better company than that alex.”

that earned you a smile. the kind that lit up his whole face, made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and had an annoyingly infectious effect on your mood. the warmth in your chest spread further, making you feel unexpectedly… at ease.

“well, then,” he said, picking up the menu you’d been pretending to study earlier. “let’s make the most of it. i hear the steak here is incredible. you in?”

you tilted your head, watching him for a moment as he scanned the menu with genuine interest. he was so easygoing, so quick to step in and turn a bad situation into something bearable.

“yeah,” you said softly, a real smile tugging at your lips. “i’m in.”

for the first time that evening, you felt like the night might not be a total loss after all.

after finishing your meal, which had been filled with laughter and the kind of effortless banter that always seemed to flow between you and evan, the idea of sitting through dessert felt unnecessary. instead, you both decided on a walk, letting the crisp night air clear your heads after the warmth and hum of the restaurant.

the streets glowed under the soft light of streetlamps, their golden halos reflecting off the damp pavement, remnants of a brief rain earlier in the evening. the world felt quieter now, the chatter of passing strangers and the occasional honk of a car fading into the background as you and evan strolled side by side.

“sorry again about tonight,” evan said after a while, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. his tone was sincere, tinged with the kind of guilt you knew he couldn’t help but shoulder.

you glanced over at him, your heart softening despite your initial irritation. “don’t be,” you replied, your voice lighter than you felt. “i ended up with the better date anyway.”

the corners of his mouth twitched upward, a chuckle slipping from his lips. “well, you’re not wrong. i’m way more fun than alex.” his teasing tone was paired with a grin so mischievous it pulled a laugh out of you despite yourself.

“low bar,” you said, bumping his shoulder with yours as you walked.

“true,” he admitted, still smiling. but when he glanced at you, his expression softened. his gaze lingered just a moment too long, something unreadable flickering in his blue eyes before he quickly looked ahead.

you continued walking, the easy flow of conversation gradually giving way to a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but rather companionable, steeped in the kind of understanding that only came with knowing someone as deeply as you knew evan.

the city noise faded into the background, leaving just the sound of your footsteps echoing off the empty streets and the occasional rustle of a breeze weaving through the trees above. for once, neither of you seemed in a hurry to fill the quiet, content to simply exist in each other’s presence.

a sudden gust of wind swept through, carrying a sharp chill that had you instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. the brisk air bit at your skin, you shivered despite your efforts to ward it off.

evan noticed immediately. he always noticed. without missing a beat, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders in one fluid motion, the fabric still warm from his body.

“buck, i’m fine–" you started to protest, reaching up as if to push it off.

“nope,” he interrupted, his tone firm but light. his hands stayed on your shoulders for a beat longer than necessary, steadying the jacket as if daring you to argue. “you’re cold. take the jacket. end of discussion.”

the corners of your lips tugged upward, a small, soft smile breaking through. you pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, the scent of his cologne. a mix of something woodsy and clean, enveloping you. “thanks,” you said quietly, the word holding more weight than usual.

evan gave a little shrug, as if it were nothing, but his lips curved into a smile that reached his eyes. “anytime,” he replied, his voice gentle.

for a moment, you both slowed, your steps falling into sync as the night wrapped around you. the warmth of his jacket against the cool air, the steadiness of his presence beside you, it all felt oddly intimate, like you were sharing something neither of you dared to name.

“you’re too good sometimes, you know that?” you said, breaking the silence after a while. your voice was teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity to your words.

evan glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “too good? is that a bad thing?”

“not bad,” you admitted, smiling. “just… unfair to everyone else who has to live up to it.”

he laughed at that, the sound rich and easy. “well, i wouldn’t want to disappoint,” he said, his tone light, but the way his eyes lingered on you as he spoke sent a faint flutter through your chest.

you fell into another quiet moment, your steps taking you closer to home. the city seemed to fade away entirely, leaving just the two of you walking together under the glow of streetlights, the rest of the world forgotten.

when you reached your apartment, you both slowed to a stop at your door. for a moment, neither of you spoke. the street was quiet, the soft glow of a nearby lamppost casting long shadows on the pavement. you turned to face evan, the night air carrying a weight you couldn’t quite name.

“thanks for tonight,” you said softly, fiddling with the edge of his jacket. “i really mean it. you didn’t have to come rescue me.”

he shrugged, but there was a vulnerability in his expression you didn’t see often. “of course i did. i wasn’t about to let you sit there alone, thinking you weren’t worth showing up for.”

your heart stuttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. you opened your mouth to respond, but the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours, like he was seeing parts of you even you didn’t understand, stole the words from your tongue.

the silence stretched, filled with a charged tension that made your skin prickle. you could feel your heartbeat quicken, a warmth blooming in your chest that you didn’t want to name. the space between you felt impossibly small, and yet, you found yourself wanting to close it.

“evan,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” his voice was soft, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what you were about to say.

you hesitated, your breath hitching as you tried to find the right words. but there were none. not for this. so, instead of speaking, you acted. your heart was hammering so hard you were sure he could hear it as you leaned forward.

time seemed to slow as you closed the gap, the world around you fading until all you could see, all you could feel, was him. your lips were a whisper away from his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

but just as you were about to close the distance, he took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise.

“oh,” you breathed, the weight of what you’d just done crashing down on you. “oh my god. i–i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean–”

“wait–” evan started, his voice filled with panic, but the rush of humiliation already had you moving. your hands fumbled with his jacket, your fingers trembling as you shrugged it off and thrust it toward him.

“here,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. you couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t stand to see whatever emotion was written on his face. “thanks for… for everything. i–i’ll see you at work.”

“hang on, just let me–” he tried again, his tone urgent, but you were already turning away. your shaking hands found your keys, and you all but bolted inside, the door clicking shut behind you before he could get another word out.

the second you were safely inside, you leaned against the door, your chest heaving as you tried to calm the wave of mortification threatening to drown you. the silence of your apartment only made the memory of the last few minutes louder, every detail replaying in excruciating detail.

“what were you thinking?” you whispered to yourself, pressing the heels of your hands against your burning face. the warmth of his breath, the way he’d looked at you, the moment he’d pulled away. it all swirled in your mind, a chaotic mess of embarrassment and regret.

you slid down to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees as the weight of it all pressed down on you. you’d ruined it. whatever you and evan had, it was over now. there was no coming back from this.

and yet, as you sat there in the quiet of your apartment, part of you couldn’t help but wonder. if he’d pulled away… why had he leaned in so close in the first place?

the next morning, you woke up with a pit in your stomach, the memory of last night replaying in excruciating detail. every glance, every word, every fleeting touch seemed magnified in your mind, and no amount of tossing and turning had been able to shake the heat rising to your cheeks.

you could barely bring yourself to look in the mirror as you got ready for work.

by the time you pulled into the firehouse parking lot, you’d come up with a plan. a simple, effective strategy to survive the day. avoid evan at all costs. it wasn’t exactly foolproof, but you figured if you kept your head down and stayed busy, you could process everything later without risking further humiliation.

but as soon as you stepped inside, your plan crumbled.

evan was waiting for you.

he was leaning casually against the wall near the entrance, his arms crossed, but the second he saw you, he straightened up, stepping directly into your path before you had a chance to slip by unnoticed.

“hey,” he greeted, his tone neutral but his eyes searching your face like he was looking for answers.

your breath hitched, your carefully rehearsed avoidance strategy vanishing in an instant. “hey,” you replied, keeping your voice light and cautious, deliberately avoiding his gaze as you tried to sidestep him.

“can we talk?” evan asked, his tone softer now, almost hesitant.

the question sent a fresh wave of panic through you. you shook your head quickly, brushing past him as if escaping the conversation would erase it altogether. “there’s nothing to talk about,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. “let’s just forget it happened, okay?”

evan’s brow furrowed, and you could feel his presence close behind you as you hurried toward the lockers. “no,” he said firmly, his voice low but unyielding. “i don’t want to forget it.”

his words stopped you in your tracks, the weight of them sinking in before you could take another step. your heart raced as you slowly turned to face him, your eyes wide and guarded. “what are you talking about?” you questioned him.

evan’s jaw tightened as if he were struggling to find the right words, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. “last night,” he began, his voice softer now. “it wasn’t–it didn’t mean nothing to me. and i don’t think it did to you either.”

your chest tightened, a thousand thoughts swirling in your head, each one more chaotic than the last. but before you could respond, a voice cut through the tension.

“buck! we need you up here, now!”

bobby's voice rang out from across the room.

evan’s head snapped toward the sound, his expression flickering with frustration as he glanced back at you. he looked torn, his eyes darting between you and the source of bobby’s call.

for a second, it seemed like he might ignore the summons entirely, but the urgency in bobby’s tone made the decision for him.

“don’t go anywhere,” evan said, pointing at you with a look so pleading it made your stomach flip. “we’re finishing this conversation.”

you didn’t answer, your throat too tight to speak as you watched him jog up the stairs. the air seemed to settle heavily around you in his absence.

this wasn’t over. not by a long shot. and judging by the look in evan’s eyes, it wasn’t something you’d be able to run from, no matter how much you tried.

you managed to avoid him for most of the day, staying busy with your own tasks and sticking close to others whenever you were in common spaces. but you couldn’t dodge him forever.

later that evening, as the firehouse settled into its quieter rhythm, evan cornered you in the kitchen while you were refilling your water bottle.

“seriously?” he said, blocking your exit with an exasperated look. “you’ve been dodging me all day.”

“i’ve been working,” you said defensively, avoiding his gaze.

“you know that’s not what i mean,” he said, his tone softening. “we need to talk about last night.”

“no, we don’t,” you said quickly, gripping the edge of the counter. “it was a mistake, buck. let’s just move on.”

his brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “it wasn’t a mistake. not for me, at least.”

your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air.

“look,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “i know i messed up last night. i didn’t mean to make you feel… embarrassed or rejected. i was just surprised, okay? i wasn’t expecting you to–” he stopped, running a hand through his hair. “i wasn’t expecting you to feel that way about me.”

you stared at him, your pulse pounding in your ears. “well, i don’t,” you said weakly, even though the lie sounded hollow to your own ears.

evan gave you a look. a knowing, disbelieving look that made you embarrassed. “you’re a terrible liar,” he said softly, stepping closer.

“buck, don’t–” you started, but your voice faltered when he reached out, his hand brushing yours where it rested on the counter.

“i’m not trying to make this harder,” he said, his tone gentle. “i just… i need you to know that last night wasn’t one sided. i didn’t pull away because i didn’t want to kiss you. i pulled away because i panicked. you caught me off guard.”

you blinked at him, your mind racing as you tried to process his words. “you… panicked?”

“yeah,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “i’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you how i feel for weeks, and then you just… did it. you were brave, and i froze.” he hesitated, his voice dropping lower. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. that’s the last thing i wanted.”

the honesty in his voice left you momentarily speechless.

“you really hurt me, buck,” you finally admitted, your voice shaking slightly. “you pulled away like... like i was wrong to even try.”

his face fell, and he stepped closer, “i know,” he said quietly. “i’m so sorry. you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve to feel like you were wrong, because you weren’t.”

his hand finally brushed against yours, tentative but warm, and your resolve faltered.

“i don’t know if i can...” you trailed off, the words tangled in your throat.

“hey,” he said softly, dipping his head slightly to catch your gaze. “i’m not asking you to forgive me all at once. i just... i need you to know that i feel the same way. i’ve felt this way for a long time.”

the weight of his confession left you momentarily speechless. he took another small step closer.

“i should’ve told you sooner,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now. “i should’ve been braver.”

you let out a shaky breath, your walls crumbling under the warmth in his gaze. “i want to believe you,” you said softly.

“then let me show you,” he said, his tone tender but sure. his fingers curled lightly around yours, his touch slow and careful, like he was giving you every chance to pull away. “if you’ll let me.”

your heart pounded as he leaned in slightly, his movements deliberate and unhurried. you hesitated for a moment, the echo of last night’s hurt still fresh.

“buck...” you started, your voice barely a whisper.

“tell me to stop,” he said, his lips only inches from yours now. “if you don’t want this, tell me to stop, and i will.”

you didn’t tell him to stop.

instead, you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was tentative at first, testing the waters. evan let out a quiet, relieved sound, his hand sliding to your waist as he deepened the kiss, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was savouring every moment.

when you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you were both breathing hard, the air between you charged with unspoken promises.

“i’m still mad at you,” you murmured, though there was no heat in your voice.

“i know,” he said, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “i’ll make it up to you. i promise.”

you let out a soft laugh despite yourself, 

the warmth of his presence melting the last traces of doubt.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

© ialreadymadeyouapromise 2024.

[danikamariewrites]

Hi! I have a Cassian request. Could you a do request that's somewhat spoiler free? I'm about midway in acomaf( I know late to the game lol) I've got a good amount of fics reblogged but I've also been nervous to read them. Maybe reader is rhys's little sister and he made clear rule from day one that is inner circle isn't allowed to touch her. But reader Cass have been secretly dating and then their mating bond goes into effect so they can't necessarily hide it anymore. Maybe feyre is the only one that knows until then.

Secrets I Keep

Cassian x Rhys’s sister!reader

Notes: Cass is the best bat boy for the brother’s best friend’s trope! I know you asked this a while ago so I need to know if you’ve finished yet, ACOMAF is one of my favorites.

Warnings:

Bidding Feyre goodnight you shut the door behind her. Letting out a sigh of relief and slumping against the door you look to the closet. When Feyre had come to your bedroom over an hour ago thats where you had stuffed your poor boyfriend. Stalking over to the closet you thanked the Mother that the newly turned fae female couldn’t pick up on Cassian’s scent.

Yanking the door open you immediately spot Cassian curled up, trying to hide behind your more formal gowns. His wings, unfortunately, gave the General away. As well as his long, muscular legs that he attempted to tuck close to his chest.

Stifling a laugh with an unconvincing throat clearing sound Cass pokes his head out from behind the layers of silk and tule. “You can come out now.” Cassian lets out a sigh, groaning as he stood from the tightness in his joints. You laugh at him, a teasing remark already forming in your mind.

Cass towers over you, giving you a playful smirk. “What are you laughing at, princess?” “Just an old man and his creaky joints.” He shakes his head at you, quickly grabbing you and flinging you over his shoulder, tickling your sides. Giggling like crazy you playfully demand he put you down. Cassian throws you on your bed, crawling over your body to press kisses all over your face.

Getting a weird feeling you notice a new source of light from the corner of your eye. Turning your head you see Feyre standing in your doorway, eyes wide and mouth open in shock at the sight before her. You hit Cassian’s chest to get him to stop. Noticing Feyre’s presence Cass turns to her.

Sitting up, your mouth opens and closes, at a loss for what to say. “Don’t tell Rhys!” You blurt out. Feyre nods, slowly backing out of your room, “I got your back, don’t worry.” She says with a smirk.

——

It’s been over a month since Feyre was last in the Night Court. Now that she’s a permanent resident you’ve been helping her adjust to life here and working for your brother.

Today you decided to make a rare appearance before noon, joining the group for training early.

You stayed off to the side for a bit, watching Feyre spar with Cassian. You noticed some of Cassian’s signature moves as they fought. Smiling to yourself you remember when Cass started training you.

Yeah, you’d had some training but your father didn’t want you near Illyrian. Especially because of your wings. You had inherited the same ability as Rhys - being able to call your wings on command - but you also had a fear that one day you might be forced to show them in the camps. And nothing good could come from that.

When the boys came home from the first war Cassian took it upon himself to make sure you were a warrior. Rhys had told both Azriel and Cass you were not in the dating pool. But the sparks flew during your training and you couldn’t stay away. Your relationship finally started a year ago. Ever since you’ve been in a state of bliss, blindly in love for the first time in your life.

Rhys landed, his wings beating loudly, commanding attention. You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Hello Feyre darling. Are you ready for another lesson?” He holds out a hand for her to take, his wings disappearing in that familiar dark mist. You had missed seeing his magic. You missed him.

Feyre nodded, taking his hand, leaving you and Cassian alone. As they walked past Feyre sent you a subtle wink you prayed Rhys didn’t catch.

As you and Cass sparred you grabbed you around the waist, bringing you to the ground. You fought against his bulky frame, trying to get leverage to flip him. “Give up yet, princess? You look like you’re running out of steam.”

“You wish idiot!” you retort, still struggling. Cassian laughs, “Wow, idiot? That’s all you got today?”

You weakly punch at his thick thighs caging in your torso. “I’d think of something else, but a giant is cutting off the air supply to my brain.” Cassian laughed again as you continued to push at him. He wasn’t really crushing you, but good gods your boyfriend is an immovable mountain.

Cassian went ridged above you. Noticing the tension in his muscles you stop, gazing up at him with a worried look. “Cass? What’s wrong?” You ask softly. His gaze seemed far away, distracted. His jaw unhinged in shock. You slide out from under him to stand in front of him. Holding his face in your hands you tilt it so he’s looking up at you.

“Cassian, you’re freaking me out. What is wrong?” You shake him a little to snap him back into himself. Cassian grabbed your wrists, pressing kisses across your knuckles then your palms. “It-the bond. It snapped, for you.”

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Your jaw dropping to match Cassian’s shock. Seconds later you feel that warm, golden thread hum to life in your chest, wrapping snugly around your heart. You fling your arms around Cassian’s neck, pushing closer to his body, trying to be one with your mate.

Cassian’s tears fall against your cheek. You move to pull away from him but Cass holds on to you tighter. “Why are you crying baby?” You coo. “This is just-this is the happiest day of my life.” He whispered.

You squeeze him tighter, turning to press a kiss against his cheek. Feeling unsatisfied with that small show of affection Cass threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss.

Breaking away for air you rest your forehead against his, both letting out breathless laughs. “I love you.” He says, pressing his lips to yours again. This one quicker and rushed, like he can’t get enough of you. “I love you more, Cass.”

[saltpepperbeard]

OBLIGATORY COMPLETE OFMD SEASON 2 TEASER THOUGHTS AND SPECULATION POST™

Okay, to start off, I cannot BELIEVE we got this. I cannot BELIEVE we got a voiceover of Stede's note to Ed. We were all thinking it. We were all hoping for it. I CANNOT BELIEVE WE LEGITIMATELY GOT TO SEE AND HEAR HIS LOVE RIGHT OFF THE BAT. HE LOVES HIS ED SO SO MUCH.

Followed by this shot right as Stede is narrating. It's difficult to tell, but it seems like Ed??? The one-armed jacket and the fact that it's layered with Stede's narration makes me quite certain it's him. But ALONE??? AND COMING OUT OF THE SURF??? (There's a shot later that has me PARTICULARLY raising eyebrows at this moment. I'm thinking that he fell off the boat/was lost in that one storm shown later, and Stede of course is going to dive in after him or attempt to get to him in some sort of dramatic way. Which makes me think he and Stede are going to potentially talk feelings/reconcile on the beach)

And the fight choreography of this. Are you actually kidding me right now. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. GETTING TO SEE ED ABSOLUTELY KICKING ASS IN COMBAT??? NEVER IN A THOUSAND YEARS DID I EXPECT TO SEE A SHOT LIKE THIS BUT I'M HOLLERING SO HARD OVER IT (NOT TO MENTION, AGAIN, LOOKING AT THIS AND A LATER SHOT..........I'LL SCREAM ABOUT MY THOUGHTS WHEN SAID SHOT APPEARS HSKDLS)

Oh, they're PINING pining. They're YEARNING yearning. They're GAY gay.

They want to be back with each other so so so bad I'm losing my mind <3

"Fuck you, Stede Bonnet." The way he's JUST as dramatic as we were all thinking. The way he's hurting in a way WE ALL ANTICIPATED. LIKE, YOU HATE TO SEE IT, BUT MAN DSJKLDSSDKL. Also, the contrast of him saying that vs Stede's voice over is so so insane. The editors are INSANE FOR THAT ONE.

AGAIN, GOING BONKERS OVER ED'S CHARACTERIZATION BECAUSE HE SEEMS EXACTLY HOW I ANTICIPATED. Outwardly, angry, hardened, and cold. Inwardly, heartbroken, desperate, and wanting nothing more than to be back with Stede. Because hello, HELLO, HE'S NOTCHED WHAT I ASSUME TO BE HIS NUMBER OF DAYS WITHOUT STEDE IN THE WALL??????

HI OLU HELLO OLU MY DEAR DARLING OLU

but also screaming and crying and throwing up because this is ALSO what i was anticipating/hoping for. the crew being like "ummmmm lmao captain?? you really think you've got this under control???"

"You think Blackbeard's going to murder you?" I THINK NOT BECAUSE WHAT IS HE EVEN SHOOTING AT JSLDKS. OFF TO THE SIDE??? A WARNING SHOT????? Also the lighting of this and his look matches the ending shot so I'm very eyes emoji at this entire thing.

HOWEVER...

"MURDERER THRICE OVER?????????????"

Like sorry, that sign won't stop me because I can't read. Look at him. LOOK at him. You're telling me he stole the wedding cake toppers so he could PAINT HIMSELF ON THE BRIDE??? SO HE COULD MAKE HIMSELF INTO THE BEAUTIFUL BRIDE HE WANTS TO BE????? SO THAT HE COULD PLAY PRETEND MARRIAGE BETWEEN HIMSELF AND STEDE???????

INSANE!!!

INSANE FOR THIS!!!!!!

Again, bonkers editing. The split screen. The CONTRAST between Stede's hopefulness and Ed's depression. The WAY THEY LINED IT UP TO MAKE ED LOOK LIKE HE'S TAKING AIM AT STEDE. THE WAY THIS PROBABLY PERFECTLY ENCAPSULATES THEIR CHARACTERIZATION IN THE FIRST FEW EPISODES HSDJKLSDS LIKE BITING THE EDITORS BITING THEM BITING THEM

ALSO ED AND ALL OF HIS GUNS,,, NINE GUNS???????

It kills me because he's probably being exactly what he thinks people see him as. He's probably like "Oh, you want a monster? I'll give you a monster."

WHICH,,,, NO, HONEY. YOU'RE A SWEETHEART, SORRY ABOUT IT.

AND THEN LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT OUR DARLINGS!!! FANG'S FUCKING SPIKES ARE SO METAL. FRENCHIE'S WOLVERINE COSPLAY SHDJKLSHDLKS. JIM!!! JIM JIM MY BELOVED JIM, AND THEIR PAINTED BEARD. THEIR GENDER!!!!!!!

Honey hsdksjds the drama of it all. THE DRAMA. CRASHING WEDDINGS TO DISRUPT LOVE BECAUSE YOUR OWN WAS DISRUPTED??? SIIIIIIRRRR THE THEATRICS, THE SPICE OF IT ALL

excuse me ma'am that is a gay man shdkjshkls THAT IS A GAY MAN. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING,,,

kiss me instead like wtf

OKAY NOW THIS,,,

THIS.

PRESIDENTIAL ALERT: THE BABYGIRL IS FIGHHHTTTTIIIING

BUT IZZY WATCHING ON??? IZZY????????????

I have Genuine Thoughts™ about this. I have a feeling that the big arc/character development Con mentioned might pertain to him like, REALIZING what's important, and what Ed actually wants and needs. And a good chunk of that will be him realizing the consequences of his actions, and maybe potentially wanting to undo the damage. And also, in his Bitchy Izzy Ways™, he might also get very very tired of Ed's sulking/theatrics and want to rectify things for that reason too.

So I feel like he's going to sort of team up with Stede and show him the ropes for that reason?? So they ALL can work towards betterment???

WHICH IS NUTS LMAO. NEVER EVER EXPECTED THAT.

REGARDLESS, GO STEDE BABY GO!!!

HI REVENGE HELLO REVENGE PLEASE DON'T DO ANYTHING DRASTIC LIKE EXPLODE OR ANYTHING PLEASE BABYGIRL <3

yeah yeah the titties we've all seen them.

BUT AGAIN, AGAIN, STEDE OFF TO THE SIDE. STEDE WATCHING. STEDE LEARNING THE ROPES FROM THE MOST UNEXPECTED PERSON EVER SHDJKSDS LIKE WHAT!!!

AND HEEEEEEERE WE GO. HERE'S THE SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER.

THE SAME BLACK SAND BEACH. FIGHTING THE BRITISH. ED AND STEDE. ED WITHOUT HIS MAKEUP ON. STEDE IN A DIFFERENT OUTFIT.

ARE THEY BOTH,,, FIGHTING TO GET TO EACH OTHER??? FIGHTING THROUGH CROWDS AND ENEMIES TO GET TO EACH OTHER'S SIDES???????

WHAT IF THEY FIGHT TO EACH OTHER AND THEN KISS HUH???

WHAT THEN.

HIIIIIIYYYAAAA JACKIE <33333

ALSO HELLO IS THAT THE SWEDE BEHIND HER???????

EXPLOSIONS FIRE EXPLOSIONS EXPLOSIONS FEELING VERY WEE JOHN CODED RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

AND THIS IS YET ANOTHER SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER,,,

LIKE UHHHHHHHHHHHHH

WITH ED ON THE BEACH, AND THIS SHOT OF SOMEONE FALLING INTO THE WATER,,,,,,

I HAVE A FEELING THAT ED IS GOING TO DO SOMETHING THAT ENDS WITH HIM FALLING OFF THE BOAT. MAYBE HE TRIES TO SAVE SOMEONE???

if he fights to save stede from going overboard or something equivalent i'm going to eat all the tiles off my floor <3

LIKE IT'S BAD BESTIES. IT'S BAD. IT'S DIRE. THE WATER IS SO FUCKING HIGH AND THEY'RE IN A STORM AND JIM IS SCREAMING AND I AM ALSO SCREAMING!!!

But then also, LOOK AT FUCKING WEE JOHN!!! IN DRAG!!! HE'S A FUCKING MERMAID!!! JIM ISN'T A MERMAID???? WELL, THAT'S FINE--WEE JOHN IS!!! LIVING HIS BEST FUCKING LIFE!!!!! AND WHAT IF HE MADE THAT COSTUME HIMSELF SJDKSDJLS <3

AND THE FINAL SHOT I'M CHOOSING, THE FINAL ONE OF THE SET,,, MATCHES UP WITH THAT LIGHTING EARLIER.

WHO ARE WE FIGHTING, ED BABE. WHAT'S THE TEA. WHO ARE YOU CLOBBERING.

IS IT US?

IT'S PROBABLY US.

BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE THING HAS ME SO SO SO DEAD Y'ALL