#At most I just want to make him into a snow globe

[valc-cq0]

His Duty, Her Desire (1)

Pairing: Bodyguard!OC x Chaebol!F!Idol (Karina, Aespa)

Genre/theme: Slow burn, drama, forbidden romance, hierarchy

Rating: Mature

Word Count: [3396]

Part 2 Part 3

(a/n) Hey everyone! This is my very first fic, and I’m super excited to finally share it. I’ve been lurking and reading so many works here on Tumblr, and I finally decided to take the leap and write one of my own.

I’m still figuring things out, so please bear with any rookie mistakes, but I poured my heart into this. Feedback, comments, or even just a like would mean the world to me. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it!

Seoul glittered beneath a sky of gold and smoke. From the penthouse of the Gloré Tower, the city looked like a snow globe of ambition and neon. Inside, however, chaos reigned.

“Unbelievable! That stylist thought a pink sequin jumpsuit was couture?! I looked like a bedazzled popsicle!”

Karina, full name? Yu Ji-min, but no one dared call her that, stormed down the hallway, flinging her custom Balenciaga clutch at the couch. Her voice echoed through the apartment like a warning siren.

Valc, tall and dressed in a sleek black suit with an earpiece barely visible beneath his black hair, leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed. Unfazed. As always.

“You didn’t look like a popsicle.” he said calmly. “More like... a disco ball with sass.”

Karina whipped around, glaring. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“A little. You’re glowing today, if that helps.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water and taking a swig like it was vodka.

This was his life now, babysitting South Korea’s most chaotic chaebol heiress, the youngest daughter of a conglomerate that owned half the country’s luxury malls, tech companies, and scandals.

When Valc had been transferred from international private security to Seoul, he thought it’d be guarding stuffy CEOs. Not... this. Not Karina.

“I want a new stylist. And a new driver. And while we’re at it, can I get a new bodyguard too?” she huffed, pacing.

Valc raised a brow. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Exactly.”

“Harsh.”

“Facts.”

He suppressed a smirk. Karina was fire and thunder wrapped in Chanel. Always dramatic, always late, and always surrounded by chaos.

“You’re stuck with me.” he said simply, pushing off the doorframe. “Until your dad finds someone else who can put up with your... charm.”

Karina’s pout deepened. She hated when he teased her. But she also didn’t hate it enough to stop him.

Later that evening, they were at the opening of a luxury fashion boutique in Gangnam. Cameras flashed as Karina stepped out of the car, her long legs accentuated by a micro-mini skirt and thigh-high boots. She didn’t wait for Valc, she never did.

He followed at a comfortable distance, eyes scanning the crowd.

“I swear, if that influencer chick shows up again and calls me ‘Karinnie’. I’m throwing champagne in her face.” she muttered to him under her breath as they entered.

“I’ll bring the glass.” Valc replied without missing a beat.

She giggled despite herself, then quickly composed her face back to its signature RBF as paparazzi shouted her name.

Inside the event, Karina immediately attracted attention, suits, socialites, and slimy heirs vying for her attention. Valc stood near the corner, arms folded, eyes trained.

And then—

“Oh my god, he’s hot.” said a voice behind him.

He turned slightly. Two girls were ogling him openly. One waved. “Hi! Are you single?”

Valc blinked. “Working.”

Karina, across the room, caught the exchange. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. The girl had the audacity to touch his arm.

Valc didn’t flinch. But he did notice Karina making a beeline toward them.

“Excuse me.” she said sweetly, too sweetly, placing herself between Valc and the girls. “He doesn’t talk to strangers.”

“Are you his boss?” one girl asked.

“I’m worse. I’m his nightmare.”

Valc coughed to cover a laugh.

“I need a drink.” Karina snapped, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards the bar. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I wasn’t.” he said, amused.

“You didn’t push her off.”

“She touched my jacket.”

“She touched your arm.”

“I can’t control people’s arms, Karina.”

“You could’ve leaned away!”

He leaned closer, voice low. “Like this?”

Karina’s breath caught in her throat for a second, but she scowled, refusing to let him win.

“You’re annoying.”

“Thank you.”

Valc had been to many mansions in his line of work, but Karina’s family estate in Hanam made everything else look like a vacation rental. Think Versailles with a Samsung sponsorship: marble floors, security drones, and a koi pond that probably had its own trust fund.

He adjusted the earpiece as they entered. Karina strutted ahead, throwing her sunglasses at a maid like a drama queen in a K-drama.

“Unni, I need a full bath, rose petals, pink ones this time. Not red. Red makes me look like a corpse.” she said, tossing her heels aside with zero aim. They hit a priceless vase. It didn’t break, but it flinched.

Valc followed, expression neutral. The staff gave him sympathetic glances.

“Is she always like this?” he asked a nearby maid.

“She’s... unique.” the woman said delicately.

Karina whirled around. “I heard that.”

“You were meant to.”

“Watch your tone, bodyguard.”

“Watch your aim, princess.”

Her mouth twitched. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? You literally live in a palace.”

“I hate the word.” She turned away, but not before he caught the flicker of something in her eyes, resentment? Bitterness? Hm.

Later that day, Valc wandered through the estate’s west garden, waiting for Karina to finish her two-hour glam session. A voice interrupted his peace.

“You must be Valc.”

He turned. A woman in a sleek navy pantsuit stood at the edge of the path, smirking.

“Ningning.” she said, offering a hand. “Cousin, confidant, chaos enabler.”

Valc shook her hand, amused. “Bodyguard, babysitter, accidental therapist.”

“I like you already.”

She looped her arm around his. “Come on. Let’s gossip.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Everything’s allowed when your net worth starts with a ‘B’.”

They walked toward the indoor pool as she filled him in on the drama. The broken engagement with the chaebol heir. The scandalous yacht party that trended for three days. The secret tattoo Karina got during a tantrum in Tokyo.

Valc laughed more in ten minutes than he had all week.

Too bad Karina walked in right when Ningning touched his shoulder.

Her heels clicked like thunder on marble.

“Oh wow, look at you two getting cozy.” she said flatly.

Valc straightened. “Just talking.”

“Didn’t know my cousin was into guys who wear the same three suits.”

“I rotate them.” Valc said with a grin.

Ningning raised a brow at Karina. “Jealous much?”

“I don’t get jealous. I get bored.”

She strutted past, flipping her hair and refusing to look at Valc.

That night, at a black-tie event at Lotte World Tower, Karina arrived late, glammed up like a goddess of controlled chaos. She wore a black silk dress with a thigh slit so dangerous it should’ve come with a warning.

Valc, in a tailored suit for once (Karina’s doing, though she’d deny it), stuck close behind her.

“Smile like you don’t hate everyone.” he muttered.

“I do hate everyone.”

“Fake it.”

“Like this?” She smiled sweetly at a passing CEO, then whispered, “He embezzled ₩3 billion and cried when my dad threatened him.”

“Your family sounds terrifying.”

“You haven’t even met my mom.”

During the dinner, Karina got surrounded by a group of posh heirs, one of whom slid into the seat beside her with a little too much confidence.

“Ji-min-ah.” he purred. “You look stunning tonight.”

“Park Jin-woo.” she sighed. “Still pretending to be charming?”

Valc hovered nearby, eyes scanning. But when Jin-woo leaned in closer, Karina suddenly turned towards Valc.

“Bodyguard.” she called sweetly. “Can you help me with my necklace?”

Valc raised a brow. “It’s not broken.”

“Then pretend it is. Fix it.”

He stepped forward, hands brushing her bare shoulders as he reached around her neck. Karina tilted her head slightly, too slowly and her breath fanned against his cheek.

Jin-woo cleared his throat.

Valc didn’t blink.

Karina smiled, triumphant. “Thank you. So good with your hands.”

Valc stepped back, jaw tight.

Later, in the parking garage, Valc opened the door of her limo.

“That was unnecessary.” he said.

“What was?”

“The act. The jealousy stunt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she said innocently, but her grin gave her away.

He leaned close. “Be careful, Karina.”

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head. “Worried I’ll fall for you?”

There was a pause. A charged second.

“No.” he said finally. “Worried you already did.”

And with that, he shut the door.

​​

The next morning, the estate was unusually quiet, until Karina shattered the calm.

“What do you mean we’re going to Jeju?!” she yelled from her silk-draped bed, mascara smudged under her eyes like war paint. “I just got my nails done for Seoul!”

Valc, standing at the doorway with a duffel slung over his shoulder, kept his expression unreadable.

“Your father wants you at the investor retreat. Starts tomorrow. Jet leaves in three hours.”

“I hate investor retreats. Everyone smells like old money and desperation.”

He shrugged. “I just follow orders. You scream at them.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m bringing my wine fridge.”

“You’re not.”

“Then I’m not going.”

“You are.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Karina threw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

The private jet was stocked with enough food, champagne, and skincare to supply a K-pop tour. Karina lounged on a cream leather seat in a silk robe, scrolling through her phone and sighing dramatically every three minutes.

Valc sat across from her, reading a thick file labeled Contingency Protocols.

“I’m bored.” she said.

“I’m busy.”

“I’m prettier.”

He glanced up. “True.”

She blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said it’s true. You're prettier. Now let me read.”

Karina flinched at the compliment, even though she'd been fishing for it. She stared at him, a little too long, before shifting her gaze to the window.

Jeju’s breeze was different. Softer. Saltier. But the resort they were staying in was anything but calm.

Karina arrived in a mood. That morning, Dispatch had dropped a juicy article titled "Chaebol Princess and Her Hot Bodyguard: Secret Romance or PR Stunt?"

She was livid.

“Why would they say that?!” she shouted, pacing the suite.

Valc sipped his Americano. “You flirted with me in front of like... a hundred cameras.”

“I was acting!”

“Right. Oscar-worthy.”

Karina hurled a cushion at him. “You don’t care?! They called you hot!”

“I’m not mad about that part.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re dramatic.”

She collapsed on the bed with a groan, then peeked at him. “You think I’m pretty, right?”

Valc blinked. “We’ve been over this.”

“I want you to say it again.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I hate you, but I still want to hear it.”

That made him chuckle. “You’re impossible.”

“You already said that.”

He crossed the room, sitting at the edge of the bed. His voice was quiet. “You’re the most beautiful chaos I’ve ever met.”

Her breath caught.

She turned away.

“Gross. Don’t get poetic.”

That night, Valc joined the retreat's formal dinner, reluctantly. Karina was surrounded by suit-clad men with predatory smiles and old money names. Valc kept to the shadows, sipping whiskey.

Then she walked in.

Winter, Karina’s childhood rival and now CEO of a skincare empire, glided in like an ice queen. Short dress. Diamond eyes. Deadly smile.

“Valc, was it?” she asked, gliding toward him like she was already bored. “You look much better than the rumors.”

He nodded, diplomatic. “Nice to meet you.”

Winter smirked. “Charming and polite. Karina always did pick the best toys.”

He blinked. “I’m not—”

“Oh, I know what you are. The question is... do you?”

Karina was across the room, watching with narrowed eyes. And then she stood.

In three seconds flat, she was beside them.

“Winter.” Karina said, voice dipped in venom.

“Ji-min.” Winter purred. “Your bodyguard and I were just chatting.”

“Too close for chatting.” Karina snapped.

“I was standing.”

“You were drooling.”

“I was complimenting his jawline.”

“Well, compliment your own and walk away.”

Valc said nothing. He just watched Karina’s jaw twitch.

Winter smirked, gliding off with a smug twirl.

Valc leaned in. “Jealous again?”

Karina took a sip of champagne, eyes locked on Winter. “Shut up before I drown you in this glass.”

“Copy that.”

Later that night, back in the suite, the tension was too thick to cut.

“Why do you care who talks to me?” Valc asked, toeing off his shoes.

Karina didn’t answer. She stared out the window at the crashing waves.

“Karina.”

“I don’t care.” she said. “I just hate her.”

“Right.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re seeing through me.”

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up behind her, close but not touching.

“I see more than you think.” he said quietly.

Her voice cracked. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The rain hit Jeju like a grudge. Sheets of water poured over the coast, wind howling against the windows of the cliffside villa Karina had insisted they move into last minute, because “retreats are for old men and bad wine.”

Lightning flashed, thunder cracked, and in the living room, Karina was still wearing a silk robe, arguing with the smart fridge.

“Why does it keep suggesting kombucha? I asked for wine!”

Valc sat nearby, barefoot, in sweats and a hoodie for once, watching her like she was both exhausting and entertaining. Which, frankly, she was.

“I think it knows you’re unhinged.” he said.

Karina spun around. “Are you siding with the fridge now?”

“I trust it more than your mood swings.”

She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “You’ve got jokes for someone who’s supposed to protect me.”

He caught the pillow with one hand, grinning. “Laughter is protection. Keeps me from losing my mind around you.”

She flopped onto the couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. The lights flickered. Outside, trees bent like they were bowing to the sea.

“You ever think about quitting?” she asked suddenly. Her voice, too quiet.

Valc glanced at her. “What, and miss your daily tantrums?”

“Be serious.”

He put the pillow down, sobering. “Yeah. I’ve thought about it.”

She blinked. That clearly wasn’t the answer she expected.

“Why?”

He leaned back, arms folded. “Because sometimes I forget if I’m protecting you from the world… or from yourself.”

Silence.

Karina looked down at her hands. Perfect nails. Rings that cost more than tuition.

“I don’t know who I’d be without all this.” she murmured. “The money. The power. The drama.”

“You’d still be you.” he said simply.

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to.”

She met his gaze. There was something in her eyes, vulnerability, raw and rare. It made Valc sit up straighter.

“I don’t let people in.” she said. “Not really.”

“I noticed.”

“But with you…” Her voice dropped. “It’s different. And that scares me.”

Valc’s heart kicked in his chest. This wasn’t teasing. This wasn’t bratty games.

“I’m just your bodyguard, Karina.”

“No, you’re not.”

A crash of thunder drowned the silence between them. The lights blinked, and then died.

Darkness.

Karina jumped.

“Okay, that’s a nope, I hate storms.” she said quickly, voice pitching higher.

“You? Afraid?”

“Shut up and come here.”

Valc reached for his phone, flashlight flickering on as he walked toward her.

“You good?” he asked.

“No. My life is blacked out. I feel poor.”

He snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him down next to her. He sat, warmth between them immediate.

“I used to be scared of blackouts.” she said quietly. “When I was little, I thought it meant the world was ending.”

He turned the flashlight off. “It’s not.”

“I know.” A pause. “Because you’re here.”

Valc looked at her. Something shifted.

Karina leaned in. Just slightly. Just enough for him to feel the heat of her breath.

His voice was low. “Karina…”

“Shut up.” she whispered. “Just for once.”

And then she kissed him.

Soft. Quick. Like a secret.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her mouth opened to say something, anything.

The lights came back on.

Reality crashed in.

Karina blinked. “I—That didn’t mean anything. I was... stressed.”

Valc sat still. “Right.”

“Seriously. It was a blackout kiss. Everyone gets one.”

“Sure.”

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

She fled.

Valc sat there alone, blinking at the now-too-bright room.

He touched his lips. “A blackout kiss?”

Yeah, he was definitely in trouble.

Back in Seoul, the city skyline greeted them with its usual chaos, billboards flashing, taxis honking, camera flashes hiding behind coffee shop windows. But for once, it wasn’t the skyline Karina was looking at from the backseat of the Maybach.

It was Valc.

He hadn’t said a word about the kiss.

Not during the flight.

Not during the drive.

Not even when she dropped her designer sunglasses and nearly lost her mind at the airport lounge.

He was back to his usual self, calm, unbothered, unreadable.

And it pissed her off.

“What’s your problem?” she snapped suddenly.

Valc raised an eyebrow from the passenger seat. “Me?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m usually quiet.”

“Well, you’re extra quiet. Is this about Jeju?”

He looked out the window. “You said it didn’t mean anything.”

Her jaw tightened. “And you just agreed.”

“Was I supposed to argue?”

“Yes!”

Valc turned towards her, finally. “You’re confusing as hell, Karina.”

She scoffed. “And you’re an emotionally constipated tree.”

“Glad we’re being mature about this.”

They didn’t speak again until they reached the estate.

The next morning, Dispatch dropped another bomb.

[EXCLUSIVE] Chaebol Heiress Karina Spotted Kissing Her Bodyguard in Jeju Villa?!

The photo wasn’t clear, low-light, slightly blurry, but it was them. The kiss. The lightning in the background added drama straight out of a romance novel.

Karina stared at her phone like it had personally betrayed her.

Ningning stormed into her room minutes later. “Okay, girl, what the hell! You and Tall, Dark, and Stoic are making headlines! Again!”

Karina threw the phone onto her bed. “How does Dispatch keep getting this stuff?! Are the lamps mic’d?!”

“Probably. But more importantly, are you, like, in love or whatever?”

Karina flinched. “What?! No. It was a blackout kiss.”

“A what now?”

“You know, like... a panic move during a thunderstorm. Happens all the time in dramas.”

“Karina. You’re not in a drama. You’re in denial.”

“I can’t like him.” she said, pacing now. “He’s my bodyguard. That’s messy. That’s scandalous. That’s… dangerous.”

“So are you,” Ningning said with a smirk.

Karina paused. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Ningning’s smirk widened. “Then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought.”

Meanwhile, Valc stood outside the estate, watching the press cars pile up like vultures on a buffet line. His phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

He answered.

“Is this Valc?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m Giselle. We need to talk. About Karina.”

They met later that evening at a rooftop bar in Itaewon.

Giselle wasn’t what Valc expected, confident, sharp, and stylish in a way that said she knew how to ruin reputations with a single Instagram story.

“I’m her friend.” she said, sipping a mojito. “Kind of. More like... her mirror. Except my life didn’t get handed to me on a platinum plate.”

Valc nodded. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah. I like you. But you need to be careful.”

“Of Karina?”

“Of the world she lives in. She’ll break you without meaning to.”

He frowned. “I’m not easily broken.”

“You think she kissed you because she’s in love? Maybe. But maybe it’s because you’re the only thing in her life she doesn’t control.”

Valc didn’t respond.

“You’re a good guy. I can tell. Just don’t expect her to know what she wants.”

Giselle stood, dropping a business card on the table.

“If she hurts you, call me. I’ve got tequila.”

The next day, Valc was walking through the estate garden when Karina appeared out of nowhere like an angry angel in leather boots.

“Oh, so you do have time to meet mysterious women now?” she snapped.

He blinked. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I saw the photos. Giselle? Really? You think that’s subtle?!”

Valc crossed his arms. “She wanted to talk about you.”

Karina’s jaw locked. “Sure she did.”

“Jealous again?”

“No, I just hate being replaced.”

“I haven’t replaced you.”

She stepped closer. “Then what are we, Valc?”

He met her gaze, calm but intense. “You tell me, Karina.”

“I told you it meant nothing.”

“Then stop acting like it meant everything.”

Her face twisted. She shoved him.

He didn’t move. “Done?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And before she could argue, he walked away.

This time, she was the one left alone, furious and breathless and maybe, just maybe... heartbroken.

Part 2 Part 3

[letsbangts]

baby, please come home || jjk

⤷ summary: when he's the only thing you want for Christmas

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.2k+

⟶ genre: fluff, angst (just a sprinkle), married couple au, established relationship au, christmas themed

⟶ content: husband!jk, dad!jk, pregnant!oc, oc is a slightly emotional expecting mother (eight months along), and koo being a deticated expecting father

⟶ warnings: none just some fluff with a dash of angst to make it sentimental because it's the holidays

↬ a/n: this isn't what I thought I would write for this request and I wasn't going to do it so soon but I got inspired & I thought it would make cute drabble so to everyone who reads hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :) angel xoxo

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ christmas (baby please come home) mariah carey 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

The snow is coming down all around you as if encased in a snow globe. You watch it fall around you as it makes its way to add to the thick layer already accumulated on the ground beneath your feet. You walk through the Christmas market, looking at the stalls and decorations. Your eyes glance at the bodies around you: families, friends, lovers — surrounded by many people, except for the one you want beside you the most.

The church bells ring, blending with the happy sounds of the town's excitement buzzing in your ears. You finally make your way to the heart of the town square; the carolers begin singing "Deck The Halls" just as you arrive. The usual holiday cheer you would feel is absent, along with the person who brings that joy.

Your mind takes you back to this day last year and all the fun it held, all the memories made together. Sipping hot chocolate with his arm wrapped around you, the hand-holding with both your hands stuffed in his coat pocket, and your cold lips pressed against each other to warm them with sweet kisses.

As you gaze up at the enormous Christmas tree adorned with pretty lights like those shining all around the town, the loss of the new memories you should be making together this year creates a lump in your throat. He should be here with you, with both of you.

You pull out your phone and tap his contact; the phone rings for a few seconds before Jungkook's face appears on the screen. A bright smile on his face that rivals all the lights around you. His face is so close to the camera that you can't see anything behind him, but the snowflakes in his hair, paired with his red cheeks and nose from the cold— just like yours—show that he is also outside.

You can't help but smile back at him, although it doesn't quite reach your eyes. As much as seeing him brings you happiness, you can't help but feel a touch of melancholy that his presence can only be through the phone.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Hey, baby. I wanted to show you the tree this year; it keeps getting bigger, I swear."  

You hold the phone out and lower it, trying to fit the whole tree behind you in the screen.

"Whoa, that thing is massive! I'd hate to be the person who had to wrap the lights on it; there must be at least ten thousand on it."

You giggle at Jungkook's remark as you raise the phone to speak to him.

"It's so pretty here, Kook. I wish you could see it in person," you say with a sad smile.

"I doubt it's anywhere near as pretty as you, but I wish I were there too, darling. I tried everything I could to find a flight back in time, but as you can imagine, I wasn't the only one trying to make it back home for the holidays."

"I know, but it's unfair for them to send you away for work so close to Christmas. Then, to extend it even more, it's as if they were plotting to keep you away," you pout.

"It is unfair, and trust me, I pleaded my case to the airline agents to please let me get home to my adorable pregnant wife for Christmas, but it didn't seem to work on them. They're all Grinches, I swear," he tries to lighten the mood and continues, "Speaking of which, how are my two favourite girls doing? Let me see!"

You hold the phone out again to angle the camera to show your eight-month-pregnant belly. You sigh as you rub a hand over it.

"We're good, just missing you. She hasn't been kicking as much; I swear she knows that Daddy isn't here."

"I miss you both too, but I'll be back before you know it, and we can celebrate then."

"But it's Christmas Day; I need you here. It is our first one as a family, and we're not whole without you. I wish there were a way for you to come home, baby," your voice cracks as you look away from the screen, trying to hold back tears.

Jungkook catches a glimpse of your tear-filled eyes gleaming under the lights and sighs. The cold weather allows you to see his breath as it floats in the air.

"Hey, you know I would do anything to be there with both of you."

You catch him glancing up over his phone before he continues.

"Now, don't cry. You look too beautiful standing by the tree, surrounded by all the decorations like a Christmas angel, to feel sad. The old man selling cookies will be offended; he'll think you don't like their smell if he sees you," he smiles to cheer you up.

You wipe your tears and sniffle as you softly laugh. You look around, trying to find said man, until you eventually spot his stall emitting the delicious aroma, selling gingerbread and sugar cookies.

You furrow your brows once everything processes in your head. You look back at Jungkook on the screen.

"Wait, h-how did you know that?"

"I'm quite aware of how beautiful my wife is," he chuckles.

"No, I mean, how did you know there is a cookie stall in front of me, and an old man is running it? You can't even see it. Did the camera flip, and I didn't notice?"

A hand taps your shoulder, and you jolt at the sudden touch before turning around. Your eyes widen, and a gasp escapes your mouth as you come face to face with Jungkook. Your husband's smiling face is no longer on the screen but right before you, and your hand holding the phone falls to your side. He opens his arms wide for a hug as you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.

"But you just—when—how did you get here?" you stutter in shock.

Jungkook laughs, and when he sees you make no move to come into his embrace, he steps forward and pulls you into his arms. You snap out of your daze and immediately wrap your arms around him.

He kisses your forehead. "I told you I would do anything to be here with both of you," he whispers in your hair.

"But there were no flights," you mumble into his chest.

"Yeah, but there were still some bus tickets available. It might have been a much longer journey, but I had to be sure I was here." He pulls back and holds your stomach with both hands as he leans down and kisses it before looking up at you. "There was no way I would miss spending Christmas with my family."

He returns to a stand, and you run your fingers through his hair before your hands settle at the nape of his neck. You gaze into each other's eyes and lean in for a long-awaited kiss.

You break apart just enough to whisper over his lips, "I love you so much. Merry Christmas, Kook."

"I love you too. Merry Christmas, Y/N," he whispers back, lips brushing over yours.

You lean back in for a passionate kiss but are interrupted by a kick to your belly. You both break apart with a gasp.

"Did she just?" Jungkook asks with a smile.

"It seems we're both happy that you came home," you laugh.

Jungkook joins your laughter as he takes your stomach back into his grasp and leans back down, giving it another peck before he whispers, "And I love you, too. Merry Christmas, my little angel." 

↬ a/n: there you go just a little drabble for you all to snack on before mutt pt2 ;)

[doctorcurdlejr]

This is from a longer post I wrote about I saw the tv glow but just posting this bit on its own bc of the conversation around the movie I guess:

The point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in.

[wcters]

CHRISTMAS WITH LANDO

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: what christmas/december looks like with you and lando

warnings/contents: sexual innuendos

author’s note: wanted to give you something for christmas and as an apology for not getting all of the 1k celebration requests out !!! going though a bit of writers block :(((, christmas is almost here !!!! merry christmas and happy holidays if you don’t celebrate christmas🎄 , wanted to get a little something out before the holidays, hope everyone has a good time with friends and family !!!!

- first of all, you take christmas very seriously

- you’re not one of those people who set the tree up super early, you wait till remembrance day or american thanksgiving, but you still plan it out

- you have a planned tree aesthetic for now, when you guys are older and have kids then you’ll let them decorate, but for now it’s you and lando

- if lando isn’t there with you while you set it up, you will get the christmas tree up by yourself ‼️

- #independentwoman

- sooooo many decorations

- like you move some of lando’s mini helmets (sorry) to fit them

- you’ve got snow globes, garlands, mini christmas trees

- all of it 🎄⛸️🎁

- you’ve definitely made one of his mini helmets into a snow globe

- christmas flannel bedsheets and bedset

- binge watching christmas movies 🎥

- complete with charcuterie boards, wine, cookies you made

- LOVE christmas baking ‼️

- if it exists, you make it

- shortbread (my grandad made the best), snickerdoodles, gingerbread, peppermint, sugar cookies, etc

- that mostly consists of you baking and lando helping when you tell him too . . . and eating the batter while you slap his hand away

- you also cook a lot as well

- especially soups, you miss soup season 🥣

- music always coming from the kitchen

- lando just likes to watch you sometimes, other times he’ll start to dance with you

- when his hands start to wander (cause you know they will), you push him away and he gets sad

- MATCHING PYJAMAS

- if you have a pet or something, matching with them as well

- you love gift giving so you love going shopping for things 🛒

- we all know you help lando get gifts for people 🎁

- you spoil mila and athena 🥺

- we all saw the car lando got her BEFORE she was born, you go all out

- go out for any young kids in your family as well

- going out to christmas markets with him, max, and pietra ❄️

- sometimes it’s just you and pietra as the boys are big losers

- soooo many pictures being taken

- some for online, but most are for you to keep ❤️

- skating with each other ⛸️

- though it’s mostly lando holding your hands and helping you balance while you yell ‘lando!’ when you get scared or nervous

- trips to the alps with friends

- over the years you’ve learned to ski and you think you’ve gotten pretty good 😌

- so many nights of you and lando sitting together by the fire, blanket in top of you, max taking pictures because he finds the face lando makes when he’s sleeping hilarious

- you love taking baths, but especially during christmas time 🛁

- you and lando love having baths together after longs days and talk about what you’ve missed

- every soap is christmas themed, dish towels, pillows, you’re serious about this time of year

- each year you switch which persons house you’ll be spending christmas eve at

- you spend time with the others family as well but it switches for christmas eve

- if you decide to spend christmas eve at your house, you have traditions

- KARAOKE 🎤

- making christmas dinner together

- fighting over who makes what

- “i’ll take care of the turkey and stuffing while you take the carrot cake”

- “but i want to do the stuffing!”

- “you always burn it”

- “that is such lies”

- dancing in the kitchen 🕺

- at the end of the night you’re PLASTERED

- best sleep ever, though you are very excited for christmas day

- even more excited if you are spending it with family though ‼️

- you and lando are woken up to mila jumping in your bed and savannah coming in to grab her while apologizing profusely

- you just laugh it off and tell her not to worry while getting up because lando never likes to wake up that early on christmas

- you help make breakfast with sav and cisca while oliver helps when needed though he’s mostly playing with mila and athena with adam 🥺

- one of your favourite images is lando on christmas morning: his hair messy in the best way, the morning glow . . . when he goes to stretch and his stomach and the lining of his underwear show 😉

- you have breakfast first (obviously with some complaints from the kids) but you adults need coffee to get through the morning

- lando eats a lot because he doesn’t have to be on his diet

- after that it’s time for presents !!!!!! 🎁

- for some gifts you coordinate with sav and oliver so they go together

- lando sits on the couch and if you’re not on the ground with the girls you’re with him, back against his chest as you watch with so much love in your eyes

- you do the adults gifts on the side because you all want the attention on the girls

- lando LIVES and lives to spoil you

- he does all year, don’t get me wrong, but at christmas? it’s another level

- he waits till you guys are back at your house or alone when he gives you all the super expensive ones because you KNOW this man spends a ridiculous amount of money on you 💵💵

- you love to see everyone’s faces when they see their presents

- especially cisca and adam’s when they receive their vacation tickets

- spend the day catching up and doing family things

- the girls obviously have a gossip session about what’s been going on 💅

- naps when you both get home

- you are SPENT since you aren’t used to that much energy

- spend the next day together and giving each other the presents you got for each other

- lots of hugs, kisses, smiles, and cheeky jokes

- it’s mostly a lazy day after the last couple of days of getting ready

- just being close and spending time with each other ❤️ gives you guys a slow moment in your fast paced lives

- obviously visit max and pietra while you are in the UK

- gift exchanging as you do every year, though it’s mostly you going overboard with gifts for them and their dog 🐕

- again, gossip sesh with pietra filled with drama and wine

- takes you on his annuals ski trips 🎿

- you are either a boss at it or you suck (sorry)

- if you suck, he helps you out . . . or attempts to

- it usually ends in both of you laughing hysterically while on the ground

- if you are amazing at it, you leave him in the dust like the queen you are

- in town shopping trips with p 🛍️

- just a great time of year where you get to catch up with friends and family and be together in each other presence ❤️

[k-nahriko]

❆ 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒘 ❆

Pairing: Zayne x Female MC Reader

Summary: As you take a stroll in the snow with Zayne, you create a childhood memory you never got to make back then

Content: female reader, SFW, (so fluffy you might die), bond story with Zayne, snowball fight, winter date

Word Count: 1436

a/n: I've been getting very sweet feedback from my last Zayne x Reader fanfic, so I have provided another fluffy one with Zayne. Enjoy!

Your footsteps echoed in the streets of Linkon, decorated with winter's fresh snow. Zayne's warm hand swung with yours as you strolled along the sidewalk, which was slightly damp from the fallen snowflakes. It felt like a dance as you both savored the breathtaking scenery. Although Zayne had previously worried about how cold it might be for you, he noticed how much you enjoyed Linkon City in the winter.

As night fell, the snow blanketed the ground in generous amounts. The city lights illuminated the snowflakes falling from the dark sky and small drifts of fluffy white crystals forged a carpet on the streets and grass. The wind whistled a gentle tune as it swept past your hair. You look around the surrounding environment that resembles a snow globe that you once saw in Zayne's office. It was a sight to behold.

Out of the blue, a question that had long been on your mind broke free. “Do you ever wish you were a kid again, Zayne?”

There was a small pause before Zayne answered. His condensed breath escaped his lips as he gave you a content smile. “Sometimes I do wish I could relive my times as a child. But, the past is the past.”

He holds out his hand to let the descending snowflakes land on his palm. “I like to look at how things are right now because you’re here with me.”

You meet his soft gaze, as he hugs you close. “Although we’ve known each other since childhood, I wish we had more moments to look back to.”

Zayne nodded as he led you towards an area with thick blankets of snow. “So do I. Times were different back then.”

The both of you decided to stray off the main path and allow yourselves to explore the fresh patches of snow. Zayne holds your hand as you take deep steps in the piles of soft snow, your legs nearly sinking in. 

You squeeze Zayne's hand playfully, giving him a teasing smirk. “You were a quiet kid. It took a lot of effort to get you to play games with me instead of doing homework all the time.”

“There were many reasons why I was so focused on my studies,” Zayne replies, shaking his head. “Perhaps, I have deprived myself of a childhood that most kids were able to have.”

“Well. Now that we’re adults, we have a lot of time to create more childhood memories together.��� You declare as Zayne cups your face, his loving gaze growing closer as he leans in. You close your eyes, preparing for a landing kiss. Instead, you hear him whisper, brimming with mischief.

“Why wait?”

Suddenly, the warmth of Zayne’s touch turned cold as a fresh snowball was pressed against your cheek. Wincing at the icy sensation you rub your face against your shoulder, wiping away the lingering flakes of snow. 

“Zayne! That’s freezing!” You exclaim, noticing his amused reaction. 

A deep chuckle escapes his lips as more snowballs form in his hand. “I recall you told me that you wanted to throw the seals you thought were snowballs at me.”

Those familiar words struck you like a brick. When you were kids, the so-called snowballs that Zayne sent to your house were so perfectly round that you didn't even notice the tiny seal tails and adorable faces carved into them. As a child, you believed Zayne was just playing a prank on you. Now, as an adult, he was initiating this winter game.

Zayne’s mirthful expression intensified as he raised his hand, preparing to launch a multi-snowball attack. “Well, here is your chance.”

As he approached closer, you took a few steps back, with giggles of anticipation bubbling in your gut. “Zayne-WAIT! At least give a head-start!”

You squeal and turn on your heels, dashing in the opposite direction, your feet nearly tripping over the uneven patches in the snow. You hastily dug up mounds of snow like a dog to fight back, but Zayne’s snowballs targeted you like bullets, some hitting you from behind and intercepting your path.

Clearly, you were at a disadvantage. His Evol made this snowball fight challenging to win. Every time he launched a snowball toward you, another popped from his hands. You tried to evade his attack, but he was quick and precise, honed by his skills as a surgeon. You were tempted to look behind you to check if Zayne was still following, but you refrained, not wanting to take a snowball straight to the face.

As you crouched behind a small snowbank, you heard Zayne’s footsteps getting closer. Amidst your silent laughter, you pant as you manage to shape enough snowballs to mount a defense. His voice called out to you, filled with childish wonder. The sound of crunching snow made your heart race.

Little by little, snowballs were formed by your lap, your fists trembling from the cold and excitement. You were determined to hit him with at least one snowball. This was it. 

Snowballs in hand, you let out a battle cry and rise from behind your snow barricade. You shut your eyes and unleashed your ammo at rapid-fire speed, but Zayne was nowhere to be found in front of you. 

“Surprise.”

You whip your head around and see Zayne behind you, holding a massive snowball above his head, roughly the size of a large yoga ball. He lets the snowball drop on you, leaving zero chances for you to escape your fate. You brace for impact, but instead of a hard hit, the snow showers down on you like soft powder. However, the sheer force of his final attack causes you to stumble and fall backward into the snow. Specks from the snowball adorn your face like glitter, making you sputter and shake off the residue.

Then, Zayne laughed. 

A rich, bright laugh erupted from his diaphragm. It was genuine and unfiltered, in contrast to the soft, reserved chuckle you often hear. His green eyes glistened as his laughter echoed through the windy air. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his smile and the beautiful sound that was a blessing to your ears. It was a rare melody, once a lost treasure you had sought for years, and now you had finally uncovered it.

Although you didn’t win the snowball war, the sound of Zayne's laughter was too contagious to resist. You fight a smile as you shoot a scolding stare at Zayne. “That huge snowball of yours was such a dirty move, and you know it.”

“Sorry, I may have gotten carried away.” Zayne chuckles as he brushes the snow off his windbreaker. “You’re not hurt, right?”

He reaches his hand out to you to help you stand up. You grasp his hand and with all the strength in your body, you yank his arm, sending him tumbling into the snow next to you. You sneak in one of your crumpled snowballs and smack it on his head. Surprise and amusement arose as his face was covered in the remains of your attempt at an ambush. This time was your turn to laugh.

“HAHA! Gotcha! How does the snow taste?” You taunt playfully.

Shaking the snow off his hair, Zayne smiles and laughs again. “It tastes like victory; it’s sweet.” He reaches out to brush the snow off your cheeks, his familiar warmth returning to your skin. He hovers over you, his large windbreaker sheltering you like a tent.

You cup his face in your hands, the radiating heat from his neck provided relief to your freezing hands. “Where was this Zayne when we were kids?”

With your hands squishing his cheeks, you distorted Zayne’s speech, making his voice sound silly. “He’s always been here. Just never dared to show himself.”

“Well, he better not disappear. I want him to make up for all the times he’s avoided playing games back then.” You utter with your thumbs creating affectionate circles on his cheeks. 

Zayne exhales, his breath condensing in the air once more. “He is here to stay. With you.”

After lying in the snow for what felt like a minute, Zayne leans down to greet your lips with a warm kiss. He cradles your head and pulls you close, creating a gentle embrace that transforms into an impenetrable fortress against the frostbitten winter. The simpler times you cherished with him in the past resurface, blooming anew like flowers in the spring.

You were confident that Zayne could embrace his childlike nature, especially when he was with you. You never wanted that side of him to be hidden away again.

[navydoves]

GAMER GUY? ˚🎮🕹️👾

LADS men as GAMERS!

✎ᝰ a/n: they're all streamers lol, enjoy!

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

˚🎮🕹️👾. ˚🎮🕹️👾. ˚🎮🕹️👾.

XAVIER

❥ xavier is the go-to comfort streamer. he only really plays easy rpgs, farming sims, or turn based games. it’s not that he doesn’t or can’t play harder games (like combat or first person shooter) but it’s more like he doesn’t prefer to most days. he thinks of games as a peaceful, winding down hobby so most days he’d rather not break a sweat trying to clear levels or fight bosses. on the rare occasion he does play harder games, he’s always so strangely good at them. he tries to tell his chat that no he didn’t pre-play the game before the stream and no he didn’t watch videos for strategies. he’s just naturally that good!

❥ his most common time to stream is evening to night, but sometimes he’ll fall asleep while the camera is still on because he’s so tired. he wears bunny or cat headphones that light up and has a matching light up controller or keyboard. his set up is pretty simple, just a pc with two screens and his gaming console. there’s no big extravagant show or a special room for him, he’s very casual.

❥ xavier really enjoys talking to his chat. he doesn’t go out of his way to answer every question, but he’ll dedicate a few minutes to just reading people’s comments and giving short responses. he’s a natural charmer with his soft laughs and candid responses, no wonder he gets so much traction.

❥ and speaking of which, xavier truly doesn’t know how well liked he is. the amount of donations and viewers he gets even when he goes missing for months at a time is abnormal. he constantly has to turn down the donation noise down on his streams because it gets annoying. (the noise is the sound of a shooting star btw hehe.)

❥ he’s a bit of a secret gamer nerd. his chat will ask what the posters and figures are in the background of his streams, and xavier will make it a habit to bring out his new collection of merchandise he got. he doesn’t fill his room to the brim with items though, no no. xavier only collects a decent amount of sentimental, cute things that fit well within his room. so if anyone asks about them, be prepared for a shy but intriguing conversation!

“i can barely keep my eyes open… but i really want to explore this new area. will anyone stay awake with me? wow… all of you, huh?”

ZAYNE

❥ zayne’s streams were once few far and in between. he only started streaming because he felt kinda lonely without anyone to play games with. he has friends, yes! but working a full-time day job means that you end up being too tired to find other people to play with, if they even play games in the first place. playing games is his little side hobby and his way of connecting with other people.

❥ zaynes primary games are puzzle based games, story-centered rpgs, and of course… tetris. he loves anything that requires thoughtful thinking and enjoys a good storyline. but when he just needs to turn off his brain and talk to his chat, he’ll opt for his favorite time-passing tetris. it’s become somewhat of an inside joke between him and his viewers that tetris is his lifeline. it’s not even mundane to watch him. contrary to popular belief, zayne is a good conversationalist when he’s comfortable, and playing for his viewers is actually very comforting.

❥ zayne’s set up is pretty simple. nothing too colorful or bright, just hues of blue and white around his monitors and consoles. maybe he’ll have a snowman figure or a snow globe perched up on his desk but he keeps his gaming area relatively declutterred and clean. not only does it bring him mental peace but it’s also very aesthetically pleasing to look at. even his PC background is of like… snowy mountains or something. it’s like his signature!

❥ zayne mostly plays in the evenings or mid-afternoons. evenings after work or midday if he’s off. he didn’t have a schedule at first, but when he started to get into the groove of streaming more regularly, he also started to have more of a rhythm for his streams. weekends had a high probability, thursdays and wednesdays were his next best days. but at the very least, zayne promises to stream at least twice a week just to keep his viewers (and himself) happy.

❥ it’s actually quite obvious that zayne has a bit of a soft spot for his chat, especially his regulars. it’s very easy for him to remember usernames or the life stories of someone, even if he only saw them online once. he has his special of making his fans feel special. he might not say it often but zayne is actually very grateful for his viewers. he’s not a big streamer or anything, but he definitely has a solidified circle of people who like watching him. he’s very well liked for his skills (and his face but he gets shy whenever he’s complimented).

“i can’t be bothered to play god of war today guys, apologies, i’m very tired. let’s switch over to tetris… why’s everyone laughing?”

RAFAYEL

❥ rafayel is a popular streamer and he loves it! due to his charismatic, funny, and playfully personality, rafa ends up drawing in thousands of viewers each livestream. while his intent at the beginning was to just share his love for video games, he doesn’t mind the attention one bit. he revels in it actually. and despite his growing popularity, the best part about rafayel is that he keeps authentic. there’s never any extravagant or clickbait-y videos, it’s just always rafayel being rafayel.

❥ rafayel’s most played games are the games his viewers ask him to play. his favourites would definitely be a mix of dress up/massive multiplayer/adventure video games. he really doesn’t have a strong preference, he’s willing to play anything. the only hiccup here is when his chat asks rafayel to play a really heavy-duty combat game that he really isn’t mentally equipped for. he’ll spend a good forty minutes on a boss before semi-rage quitting and pouting… and then maybe he goes back to it an hour later.

❥ rafayel’s set up is very colorful but not blinding. the lights are somewhat dim but they all shine rainbows across his face and room. it’s really eye catching! his actual set up is quite massive. he has four different monitors but onto really uses two. he switches between different cute headsets but his staples are the unicorn one and the mermaid designed one. his desk set up isn’t just where he plays games, it’s where he thrives. there’s even a wheely cart of snacks so he can eat mid stream if he so wishes. it’s messy, sure, but not overwhelming. it’s the way he works.

❥ rafayel does not have a streaming schedule at all. he tried having a schedule once and then started to feel kinda suffocated by it. he’s a very type B, “i do what i want when i want to” person. it’s a little hectic but it works the best for him because as soon as he feels obligated to stream, he doesn’t wanna do it anymore. but it really doesn’t matter at what time he streams, he’ll still get a good amount of viewers from all over! he is really grateful for the flexibility. apart from his job as an art teacher, streaming really doesn’t matter pay the bills. and to think, he can do it at any time!

❥ with his chat, rafayel is definitely the most interactive. sometimes entire streams will be dedicated to getting to know his viewers better. he gets very attached. but he has no problem reprimanding someone for being aggressive or rude, either to him or others. he takes that kindness shit seriously! the only time he’ll be “mean” is when he’s play fighting with the chat, which he does so often that he starts to have personal beef with certain users. but it’s all in love, of course!

“ah! fuck! i died again! what do you guys have me playing? what if i just turned off stream right now, huh? yeah… yeah, thought so!”

SYLUS

❥ when sylus first considered streaming, he thought maybe he was a little too old for a seemingly “juvenile” hobby. but his young companion, coworkers (luke and kieran) pushed him to at least try! sylus was a bit awkward at first, what with all the mechanics he had to build for a set-up and all the games that were available to him. the first few streams went just as he thought, him tensely pulling up random games and playing them to an audience of two (luke and kieran again). he almost gave up after the fourth or so livestream, but once his viewer count went up to five, he decided to stay a little longer.

❥ a good idea, that was. because in just a few months sylus would amass a couple hundred viewers that would tune into his live streams. it also helped that sylus really found his niche in first person shooter/close combat/stealth games. he felt the most confident in these games and would always take suggestions for new games under the same category. just to humor his chat, though, he’d indulge in silly casual games which he always scored high on, but sylus enjoys thrill much more. his set up is simple and sleek, black and red as the main colors and nothing getting in the way of his space except maybe a coaster. and just 1 singular pair of black headphones because they go a long way.

❥ despite being fairly new to games, sylus gets the hang of things very quickly. it’s very impressive. he doesn’t get emotional about losing or being stuck somewhere either, just a bit frustrated. if he gets too frustrated, he’ll decide to take a break and pop open a beer and talk to his chat. he’s very straightforward forward and amused with his viewers. he finds all the comments about his looks and skills very flattering but also kinda funny. like: “wow? that’s about me? haha.”

❥ sylus and his chat is very endearing relationship. there will be rare moments where he will explicitly say how grateful he is, but most of his gratitude comes from his attention. his first donation came as a shock and he almost felt a little uncomfortable to think that someone would give him money just for… gaming? he turned his donations off after that, and no matter how much his chat begged, he never turned them back on. he thinks the best appreciation comes from from dedication, and sylus is definitely dedicated.

❥ also, kinda funny, but the viewers definitely enjoy sylus’s voice. part of his charm is that soothing, raspy voice. it’s mature and deep, very commanding of attention. he never realizes how entranced his viewers are from his mannerisms. his deep voice, the tapping of his fingers, the clicking of his tongue. it’s all very satisfying and so sylus. his mature look and atmosphere draws in just about anybody. it’s very calming in a way… very soothing to the soul.

“how old am i? too old to be playing mortal kombat on stream, that’s for sure. but i do it because i have fun, nothing more to it. hm? i can never be old to enjoy myself? that’s nice of you to say.”

CALEB

❥ caleb has always been an avid video gamer player since he was a kid, and getting into streaming really was one of his goals. he didn’t need to be popular or make money off of it, he just wanted to share his passion with everyone else. but now, he was both! caleb could be considered semi-popular. he garners a few thousand viewers every stream which is a lot more than what the average streamer gets. it’s like an unspoken wish of his come true.

❥ it’s for that reason that caleb tries to stream as frequently as possible. he wants to have every chance to meet his audience and play games with or for them. he’ll host multiplayer games or join other people’s games to be able to experience the fun of co-op. his schedule is set for weekends, but it’s absolutely possible for him to pop in for a few hours on weekdays to continue a story quest from his favorite adventure game. he actually refuses to play certain games unless his audience gets to watch it too.

❥ caleb’s set up is actually very high-tech. he’s saved up a lot to buy his stuff and for that reason, he’s really, really careful with it. he doesn’t rage or put unnecessary drinks around his tech. he tries not to dirty it up but he really likes to eat while streaming so that tends to get a little hard. the main colours there are white, orange, and purple. people remark how those are the colours he wears the most often too. his headset is a pair of white and orange ones, but after encouragement from his chat, he added some dog ears to them. it’s a little embarrassing but whatever makes the fans happy.

❥ there really isn’t a game category out there caleb hasn’t tried. after years of gaming, he’s dipped his toes into practically every genre and knows a lot about gaming companies and developers and even some coding. talk about a true gaming nerd. but still, he’ll replay a lot of games because he really does get immersed in what he does. and any new big game that comes out, he’ll play almost immediately to give his two cents in. and trust, he’ll always have a lot to say.

❥ but just like the love he has for video games, caleb definitely has gotten a love for streaming too. sometimes he gets so sad that he has to cut the stream that he just… decides to bring everyone along. he’ll turn on a small go pro and just take his viewers on a grocery run or out to the park to get away from the screen. sometimes gaming and streaming overlapped, but other times they were lovely in their own right. of course every minute of the way, caleb has his nose stuck at the chat, wondering what his viewers are saying and laughing at their jokes about how weird and goofy he is. caleb lived for that.

“bro, how lore-packed is this game??? let’s check to see how many hours i’ve played… fifty-three?! alright guys, haha, i’m not jobless i swear. how about we go out and enjoy the stars before my retinas burn off?”

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

˚🎮🕹️👾. ˚🎮🕹️👾. ˚🎮🕹️👾.

[amethystarachnid]

hi! i hope im not too late but can i request lost holiday spirit for loki x female reader?

maybe it could go something like loki and (avenger) reader both live at the tower and aren’t that close but reader hears about lokis lost holiday spirit and tries to get him to celebrate christmas in really cute ways and they end up together at the end? maybe due to some mistletoe and loki ends up celebrating christmas with the rest of the avengers. thank you!!

MR. GRINCH - part I

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Avengers Tower sparkles like a snow globe come to life. Twinkling lights are draped over every railing and banister, a giant Christmas tree dominates the common room, and stockings hang above the roaring fireplace, despite its purely decorative function. You flit around like a sugar-fueled elf, adjusting ornaments, humming along to Mariah Carey, and basking in the glow of your favorite time of year.

Your enthusiasm is infectious to most. Tony grumbles about the electricity bill but still orders another dozen boxes of lights. Steve pretends to roll his eyes but secretly joins you for late-night cocoa sessions by the tree. Even Natasha doesn’t protest when you drape a little tinsel around her chair.

Loki, however, is a different story.

The resident God of Mischief is an enigma at the best of times. His presence at the Tower is still a relatively new and tentative arrangement, a diplomatic olive branch between Asgard and Earth. You’re not sure if he’s here to redeem himself, learn from Thor, or just avoid Odin’s wrath. Either way, he’s the ultimate Grinch in your holiday wonderland.

You first notice it when he steps into the kitchen one frosty morning. You’re perched on a stool, munching on gingerbread cookies and debating whether the kitchen needs a wreath (it does). Loki glides in, all dark robes and haughty demeanor, and pauses mid-stride when he spots the garlands you hung around the cabinets.

“What is this excessive display?” he asks, his voice dripping with disdain.

You blink. “Christmas decorations.”

He narrows his eyes as if you’ve just declared your allegiance to an enemy kingdom. “Why?”

“Why?” You repeat, incredulous. “Because it’s Christmas! It’s festive and joyful and magical. Why wouldn’t you want decorations?”

“Because,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “it is frivolous and nonsensical. A mortal invention to distract from the bleakness of winter.”

You gasp, clutching a cookie to your chest as though he’s just insulted your firstborn. “You don’t like Christmas?”

“I don’t dislike it,” he replies coolly. “I am indifferent.”

Indifferent. To Christmas. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not just an opinion—it’s an affront to everything you hold dear.

“Loki,” you say, your tone turning serious. “You can’t live here, surrounded by all this cheer, and not feel even a tiny bit of joy. I won’t allow it.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I was unaware my emotional state required your approval.”

“It does now,” you announce. “Because I’ve just decided that you’re my new project.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smirk. “A project?”

“Yes. I’m going to make you fall in love with Christmas.”

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to accomplish such a feat?” His voice drips with sarcasm, but you detect a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You grin, undeterred. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Day One

The next morning, Loki walks into the living room to find you perched by the stereo, scrolling through your phone. He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing—Bing Crosby croons “White Christmas” as your grin widens.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you chirp. “I’ve made a Christmas playlist for the Tower, and I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

“Highly unlikely.”

Ignoring him, you press play, and the room fills with the unmistakable harmonies of Wham!’s Last Christmas. Loki sighs loudly, but you’re already dancing around him, singing off-key and attempting to get him to join in.

“You might as well embrace it,” you say. “There’s no escaping Christmas music in December. Resistance is futile.”

“I am not ‘resisting.’” He makes air quotes that somehow look aristocratic. “I simply fail to see the appeal.”

“Come on,” you coax. “Even you must have some fondness for a holiday that inspires such happy tunes.”

Loki regards you as if you’ve sprouted antlers. “My ‘fondness,’ if it exists, is reserved for silence.”

You pout dramatically. “Not even a little head bop?”

He ignores you, sweeping past toward the library. But later, when you catch him humming faintly under his breath—whether to mock you or not—you count it as a small victory.

Day Two

Your next strategy involves decorating the massive tree in the common room. Everyone else is busy, so you commandeer Loki, much to his chagrin.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, holding a string of lights like it’s a venomous snake.

“You’re tall,” you counter. “And I need help with the top branches.”

With great reluctance, he levitates to reach the higher sections. His magic comes in handy, and despite his complaints, you catch him inspecting the ornaments with genuine curiosity.

“What is the purpose of these trinkets?” he asks, turning a glittery bauble over in his hands.

“They’re not trinkets—they’re memories,” you explain. “See this one?” You point to a slightly crooked star. “Steve made it during his first Christmas in the Tower.”

Loki snorts softly. “It’s hideous.”

“Hey! It has character.”

You work side by side for an hour, and though he pretends to hate every moment, you catch him smirking when you struggle to untangle a particularly stubborn string of lights. By the time the tree is finished, it’s a masterpiece of shimmering ornaments and warm golden lights.

“You did good, Mischief,” you say, nudging his arm. “Admit it—you had fun.”

“I did no such thing,” he replies, but his tone lacks its usual venom.

Day Three

You escalate your efforts with a Christmas movie marathon, complete with a platter of cookies and the richest hot cocoa you can muster. Loki takes one sip and eyes you suspiciously.

“What is this concoction?”

“Hot chocolate,” you say, waving a candy cane for emphasis. “A Christmas essential.”

He takes another cautious sip. Then another. When the cup is empty, you wordlessly slide him a second.

You spend the evening watching Home Alone and Elf. Loki scoffs at the absurdity but doesn’t leave the room. You can’t tell if it’s the cocoa or the ridiculous antics of Will Ferrell that keep him seated, but you’ll take it.

By the time December 5th rolls around, you’re cautiously optimistic. Sure, Loki still rolls his eyes at your caroling and glares at mistletoe like it’s cursed, but there’s a softness in his demeanor. A flicker of something you can’t quite place.

And if he lingers a little longer by the tree at night, bathed in its golden glow, you don’t mention it. Not yet, anyway.

Day Four

You’ve discovered Loki’s Achilles’ heel, and it’s not his ego or his penchant for dramatics. It’s hot cocoa. Rich, creamy, decadent hot cocoa. Since the movie night, he’s been making increasingly frequent appearances in the kitchen whenever you’re whipping up a batch.

Today, you’re prepared.

You’ve set up a veritable hot cocoa bar: steaming milk, bowls of chocolate shavings, marshmallows, whipped cream, and even a jar of crushed peppermint. When Loki strolls in, feigning nonchalance, his gaze lands on the spread and narrows suspiciously.

“What is this?” he asks, though his tone betrays faint curiosity.

“It’s called variety,” you reply, grinning. “I figured if you’re going to keep stealing my cocoa, you might as well have options.”

“Stealing is an exaggeration,” he counters, but he steps closer, eyeing the setup. “What is the purpose of… these?” He gestures at the candy canes like they might attack him.

“Toppings! You can customize your drink.”

You demonstrate by ladling hot cocoa into a mug, adding a mountain of whipped cream, and delicately balancing a candy cane on the rim. Loki watches, his expression unreadable, before taking the ladle himself. He prepares a cup with precise movements, eschewing the whipped cream and opting instead for a sprinkling of chocolate shavings.

He takes a cautious sip. His expression remains stoic, but the way his eyes briefly close in satisfaction doesn’t escape your notice.

“Good, right?” you prod.

He nods minutely, still cradling the mug. You bite back a triumphant grin and lean against the counter, watching him sip the drink like it’s an elixir of the gods. Which, to be fair, it might as well be.

“You know,” you say casually, “you’re starting to get the hang of this Christmas thing.”

He snorts. “Do not mistake my tolerance for enthusiasm.”

But there’s no bite in his words, and you’re certain you’ve won another tiny battle.

Day Five

You decide to escalate your plan with a baking session. After all, what’s Christmas without cookies? Loki is less than thrilled when you inform him of this.

“You expect me to assist you with… baking?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes,” you reply cheerfully, tossing him an apron. “Think of it as alchemy. But delicious.”

He glares at the apron like it’s made of nettles. “This is beneath me.”

“Oh, come on,” you cajole. “You’ve got magic. Surely you can handle a little dough.”

He grumbles but ties the apron on with a dramatic flourish. The sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief, wearing a plaid apron that reads “Santa’s Favorite Helper” is almost enough to make you collapse in laughter, but you wisely keep it to yourself.

The baking session is… an adventure. Loki’s “assistance” involves levitating ingredients and conjuring unnecessary bursts of green light for dramatic effect. At one point, he grows bored and attempts to enchant the cookie dough, resulting in a sentient lump that tries to crawl off the counter.

“Loki!” you shriek, swatting at the rogue dough with a spatula. “This is not what I meant by teamwork!”

He smirks, watching your struggle with barely concealed amusement. “You did say I should use my talents.”

By some miracle, you manage to wrangle the dough back into submission. When the cookies finally emerge from the oven, golden and fragrant, you plop one onto a plate and shove it toward Loki.

“Taste it,” you demand.

He takes a cautious bite, his expression neutral. Then he takes another, slower bite.

“Well?” you press, bouncing on your heels.

“Adequate,” he says, but the way he reaches for a second cookie says otherwise.

Day Seven

It snows overnight, blanketing the city in a layer of white. The morning brings a rare moment of quiet in the Tower. You’re staring out the window, a steaming mug of cocoa in hand, when Loki appears beside you.

“Do you often waste time staring at frozen precipitation?” he asks, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

“It’s beautiful,” you say simply. “Have you ever played in the snow?”

He looks at you like you’ve suggested he jump into the Hudson River. “Play?”

“Yeah. You know, snow angels, snowball fights, building a snowman?”

“You forget that I hail from Jotunheim,” he says dryly. “I am quite familiar with snow.”

“Great,” you say, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door. “Then you’re already a pro.”

Despite his protests, you manage to drag him outside. The courtyard is pristine, untouched by footsteps, and you can’t resist flopping down to make a snow angel. Loki stands over you, his arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.

“You’re missing out,” you tell him, brushing snow off your gloves.

“Am I?”

You decide to take matters into your own hands—literally. Scooping up a handful of snow, you pack it into a ball and lob it at him. It hits him square in the chest.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then he looks down at the snow on his robes, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

“You dare?” he says softly.

“I dare,” you reply, grinning.

What follows is an all-out snowball war. Loki cheats, of course, conjuring multiple snowballs at once and launching them with precision. You counter with a combination of speed and sheer determination, laughing so hard your sides ache.

By the time you call a truce, you’re both soaked and breathless. Loki’s hair is damp, and there’s snow clinging to his robes, but his eyes are bright, his lips curved into a genuine smile.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly happy.

Day Ten

You’re sitting by the fire, sipping yet another mug of cocoa, when Loki joins you unprompted. He’s carrying his own mug, which you’re fairly certain he made himself—a small but significant victory.

“You’ve been unusually persistent,” he says, settling into the chair beside you.

“It’s called holiday spirit,” you reply with a grin. “And I’m rubbing off on you. Admit it.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gazes at the twinkling lights on the tree, his expression thoughtful.

“I will admit,” he says slowly, “that there is… a certain charm to this season. Though your methods are insufferable.”

You laugh, raising your mug in a mock toast. “I’ll take it.”

For the first time since you started this endeavor, you feel like you’ve genuinely reached him. And as you sit there, sharing the quiet warmth of the fire, you realize that maybe—just maybe—Loki is starting to believe in the magic of Christmas after all.

Day Eleven

The fireplace mantel remains unfinished—a glaring imperfection in your otherwise flawless Christmas wonderland. You’ve been putting it off, unsure of how to best arrange the garlands, candles, and lights. This morning, however, you find Loki standing in front of it, arms crossed, a contemplative look on his face.

“Are you admiring my handiwork?” you tease, stepping up beside him.

“I’m considering how to fix it,” he replies. “It’s… lopsided.”

You tilt your head, squinting at the decorations. “It’s supposed to look whimsical.”

“It looks haphazard,” he counters, glancing down at you with a faint smirk.

“Fine, Mr. Perfect. Show me how you’d do it.”

What starts as a playful challenge turns into a surprisingly intimate collaboration. Loki’s hands brush against yours as he passes you a strand of lights, his touch sending an unexpected warmth up your arm. He leans close to adjust a garland, his voice low as he critiques your “questionable” taste in ribbon colors.

By the time the mantel is complete, the room feels cozier—not just from the flickering candlelight but from the unspoken connection simmering between you.

“Admit it,” you say softly. “This was fun.”

Loki’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary. “Moderately enjoyable,” he murmurs, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Day Thirteen

You’re perched on a ladder in the common room, attempting to hang a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling beam. The ladder wobbles precariously, and just as you’re about to lose your balance, strong hands grip your waist, steadying you.

“Careful,” Loki chides, his voice unusually gentle.

You glance down at him, your heart racing—not just from the near fall. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering as he helps you down from the ladder. When your feet touch the ground, you realize just how close you are. The mistletoe dangles above you, unnoticed, as you find yourself caught in his intense gaze.

“Traditionally,” Loki says, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper, “there’s a custom associated with this particular plant.”

You swallow hard, your cheeks heating. “Oh, yeah? I hadn’t noticed.”

His lips curve into a sly smile, but he steps back, breaking the moment. “Perhaps next time,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s teasing or serious.

Your pulse remains uneven long after he’s gone.

Day Fifteen

You can’t sleep. The glow of the Christmas tree calls to you, and you find yourself padding into the common room, wrapped in a blanket. To your surprise, Loki is already there, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

“Can’t sleep either?” you ask, settling into the armchair across from him.

He closes the book, regarding you with a softness you’ve come to recognize in these quiet moments. “I find the stillness… agreeable.”

The conversation flows easily, shifting from light banter to deeper topics. He talks about Asgardian winters, and you share memories of childhood Christmases. There’s an openness to him tonight, a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

At one point, you notice him watching you intently, his gaze tracing your features as if committing them to memory. “What is it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve met,” he says, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard. “Your insistence on joy, your… stubborn optimism. It’s infuriating. And yet…”

“And yet?” you prompt, your heart pounding.

He leans forward slightly, the space between you charged with unspoken possibilities. “And yet, I find myself drawn to it. To you.”

The admission leaves you breathless. You don’t know what to say, so you settle for a soft smile, hoping it conveys everything you’re feeling.

Day Seventeen

A freak snowstorm traps everyone inside the Tower. While most of the team grumbles about canceled plans, you can’t help but see it as an opportunity. You organize a board game marathon, but when Loki declines to participate, you seek him out in his room.

“Too good for Monopoly?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe.

“I prefer my games to involve a certain level of sophistication,” he replies, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Come on,” you coax. “It’ll be fun.” But when you understand the won't give in you try another tactic, just sto spend time with him. "Teach me chess instead,” you say, pulling a dusty board from a shelf.

The two of you spend hours by the fire, the snowstorm raging outside, as he teaches you the intricacies of the game. His patience surprises you, as does the way he occasionally lets you win, though he denies it every time.

At some point, you realize you’re no longer focused on the game. Instead, you’re studying the way his hair falls over his shoulders, the way his lips curve when he’s explaining a strategy.

“You’re not paying attention,” he accuses, though his tone is amused.

“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks heat.

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps I’m more distracting than the game.”

You don’t deny it.

Day Twenty

The Tower is quiet after dinner, most of the team having retreated to their rooms. You and Loki are the last ones in the common room, the tree lights casting soft shadows across his features.

“You’ve done well,” he says, nodding toward the decorations. “This place feels… alive.”

“Thanks to you,” you reply, nudging his shoulder. “You helped more than you’d like to admit.”

“I admit nothing,” he says, though there’s a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

You fall into a comfortable silence, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension. When he reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, your breath catches. His fingers linger, his gaze dropping to your lips.

For a moment, time seems to stop. You’re certain he’s going to kiss you, and you lean in ever so slightly, your heart pounding. But then—

“Y/N!” Tony’s voice booms from the hallway, shattering the moment.

You both pull back, flustered, as Tony strides into the room, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I swear he has the worst timing,” you mutter after Tony leaves.

Loki smirks, but there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Indeed.”

Day Twenty-Four

The Tower hums with a warm energy on Christmas Eve. The team is gathered around the massive tree in the common room, the scent of pine mingling with the aroma of spiced cider and freshly baked cookies. You sit cross-legged on the floor beside Loki, the two of you half-listening as Thor attempts to recount a boisterous Asgardian holiday tradition.

Despite the chaos around you—Steve trying to untangle fairy lights, Clint stealing cookies from the tray, and Tony programming a robotic Santa to distribute presents—you feel grounded. Loki’s presence beside you has a magnetic pull, and you find yourself sneaking glances at him every few moments.

He looks relaxed, a rarity for the God of Mischief. His usual sharp edges seem softer tonight, the flickering glow of the fireplace highlighting his high cheekbones and the glint in his emerald eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask quietly, leaning slightly toward him.

His lips curve into a faint smirk. “More than I expected.”

The gift exchange begins, the room filling with laughter and playful banter as everyone tears into their wrapping paper. You watch with amusement as Natasha tries not to laugh at the gaudy scarf Clint has given her, and Bruce chuckles at the chemistry-themed mug he receives.

Loki remains apart from the main commotion, though his eyes sparkle with quiet amusement. As the night winds down, the others begin to retreat to their rooms, leaving the two of you alone by the tree.

“You didn’t join the exchange,” you say, turning to him.

“I prefer to give gifts with intention,” he replies, reaching into his pocket.

He produces a small, elegantly wrapped box and hands it to you. “For you.”

Your heart stutters as you carefully undo the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside lies a delicate silver charm bracelet, each charm meticulously chosen: a snowflake, a steaming mug of cocoa, a tiny chess piece, and a star. You recognize each one as a symbol of a moment you’ve shared this month.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, your fingers trembling slightly as you lift it from the box.

“I thought you might appreciate a memento of your… relentless holiday enthusiasm,” Loki says, though his tone is soft, almost vulnerable.

“I love it,” you say, looking up at him with a wide smile. “Thank you.”

You hesitate for a moment, then reach for the small gift bag you’d hidden earlier. “I, uh, got you something too.”

He raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag, pulling out the contents with a curious expression. Inside is a beautifully bound leather journal, embossed with intricate patterns that remind you of Asgardian designs.

“For your thoughts,” you explain, suddenly shy. “Or plans, or whatever it is you write about. I thought you might like it.”

His fingers brush over the cover reverently. “It’s… thoughtful,” he says, his voice unusually gentle.

Before you can reply, a movement above catches your eye. You tilt your head back and groan. “Oh no.”

Loki follows your gaze, his expression shifting into one of amusement as he spots the sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you.

“Ah,” he murmurs, his smirk returning. “The infamous custom.”

You open your mouth to say something witty, but the words evaporate as Loki steps closer, his gaze fixed on yours. The air between you feels charged, and your heart hammers in your chest.

“Wouldn’t want to break tradition,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

Before you can second-guess yourself, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, unhurried, and yet it sends a spark through your entire body. His hand finds your cheek, his touch warm against your skin, and you melt into him, forgetting everything else in the world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless. Loki’s hand lingers on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone.

“Mistletoe,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Convenient,” he replies, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

The two of you stand there for a moment, the world around you quiet and still. You glance down at the bracelet on your wrist, then back up at Loki, and you can’t help but think that this is the best Christmas Eve you’ve ever had.

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Aftersun Art Donaldson and Lily

Art didn't want things to be this awkward, the entire ordeal was tragic. 

He remembers the day she was born, the entire 9 months leading to her birth and dreams of what she would be like before Tashi ever got pregnant. He always wanted a girl he was made to raise, one being the only man in a predominantly woman centered family he adored the familiarity of it all.

The excitement of finding out she was a girl, his little girl. Nights preparing her nursery, reading and annotating parenting books, joining birthing classes and following daddy and me facebook pages for any help he could find. Reality kicked in when he was able to pick her name. Lily, his grandmother's favorite flowers.

Tashi had the choice for her middle name and allowed Art to decide her first, he wanted to do something in homage to his grandmother and she respected that. He treasured helping Tashi during those 9 months dropping tennis entirely focusing on her well being and the little life inside her was the happiest he'd been in years.

the best day of his life was the day she was born, 9AM her healthy wails ringing through the room after a torturous overnight stay at the hospital Tashi spitting curses that she wouldn't ever do this again crescent indents in the skin of his hand while he was on the verge of passing out barely able to breathe when he watched her come into the world

He’s so fond of the memory, whisking her from Tashi’s arms once she falls asleep. He sobbed silently, rocking her back and forth in his arms “I love you so much” he cried tears of joy slipping down his cheeks grazing his fingers through her curls "I'm always going to take care of you sweet heart” a watery laugh leaving his lips cooing as she sneezed. Tashi woke to his shirt unbuttoned Lily sound asleep against his bare chest 

“Art, why?” she squinted curiously

“I just want to be close.. Want her to know it’s me.” 

she smiled fondly “you’re both going to be perfect for one another.” 

He was on the court faster than he wanted to be, it led to missing dance recitals and spelling bee’s having to leave mid-day tea parties needing to make up hours practicing.

the idea popped up after looking through his old photos on the beach visiting Santa Barbara with his parents and Patrick, the memory bringing a smile to his face but sadness followed, could he make his daughter happy?

family trips weren’t out of the ordinary and she's seen most of the world majority of the time trapped in locked hotel rooms, or watching her dad on tv screens at home with babysitters sat beside her 

she always cringed at their statements and gossip through hushed phone calls when they thought she wasn’t listening, “her dad’s really fucking hot, wonder what it’d be like to fuck both of them” they’d snicker sifting through family photos and picture frames, it made her nauseous and angry. 

her meltdowns were bad at first gripping onto her fathers torso for dear life begging not to go, asking why he’s leaving her for so long, that this isn’t fair and insisting that he doesn’t love her 

“no” he replied sternly “this is my job baby.. I need to do this, it makes me happy,” he’d lie knowing Tashi was lingering nearby not wanting to disappoint her too. 

So she got used to always watching her parents from a distance, happily accepting nicknacks given to her from their trips but resenting them after a while, stuffing snow globes, key chains and stuffed animals in drawers going as far as breaking them. It was all a reminder of loss too much for her little heart to bare. She adored Art and Tashi but with time the loneliness got to her and he could tell, the notion killed him. 

Here they were now cruising the Bahamas both spread on lounge chairs sipping virgin pina coladas

"Lily, are you having fun?" He asks and she nods silently observing the perusing guests ice cream dripping down her cone coating her hand. 

“Can we go to the pool later?” She glanced over at her father “of course bug need to clean up though” he sits up wiping her vanilla coated cheeks she shooed him away avoiding his touch.

“I can do it” she grumbles, snatching the rest of the napkins out of his hand wiping herself down. Her obvious disdain stung. “Just wanna help you..” he frowns 

“I know dad you don’t need to for some stuff though” she huffs through clenched teeth the sticky residue not subsiding her frustration.

She could be so mean, her scorn towards him cut like a knife, he wanted to chastise her, spite her but he bit back any insult he came up with racking his brain through so many memories wondering where he went wrong hell maybe he made her this way. 

He bleakly sat back “We haven’t talked about school, I heard how well you did at your piano recital grandma said you got a standing ovation I believe it” He pried hoping some sort of fond reaction from her “didn’t you get an award too-?”

“you weren’t there so you wouldn’t know” she interrupts bitterly slightly shaking her head at his ignorance

Art shrinks, slumping his shoulders watching her shrug off his advances “well you know I love you bug” she nods rolling her eyes completely unconvinced.

“Sure” she sighs, staring off at the other kids her age. “I’m gonna go” she stomps off, dumping the custom made booklet he made about their trip in the trash.

He pursed his lips turning away unshed tears blurring his vision hidden behind shaded sunglasses.

The week passed and the hollowness slowly stripped away from her, he observed from a distance watching her flip through excursion magazines, snorkeling, swimming with dolphins, karaoke bars and hiking through jungles and coves all slowly amounting onto a little list she created late at night when he was asleep. He checked every box accomplishing everything just like she wanted. 

The last night of their holiday Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House blared through the speakers after dinner 

“dad no..” she hissed embarrassed by all the prying eyes staring at them.

“Come on” he insisted on gripping her hands, shimming her body. She caved when he began singing the words as they swayed back and forths slowly shuffling into his open arms.  

“you’re so important to me Lily,” he whispers through trembling lips, voice cracking from her acceptance.

“I love you too” she grins, melting in his tender embrace.

@diyasgarden and the rest of chat during her watch party spoke about this theme with art and lily and I had to write something about it <3

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 1

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.  

AN: Here’s my last entry for the TGWRC: Christmas in July event! It’s set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Theme: Christmas movies Prompt: “That’s a poor excuse for a tree.” 

Word Count: 3,100 Tags/Warnings: SB being himself, wee bit of angst, potential fluff overload! 

Part 1: "Humbug"

He was late. 

It was Christmas Eve, and your boyfriend was late. 

With a large bowl of popcorn in your lap, you sank further into your favorite corner of the couch, drumming your nails on its arm. 

Your favorite Christmas movie played on the ridiculously large flatscreen Ben had insisted on when you two moved into this apartment. But you couldn’t get into the story like you normally would.

It was the first Christmas you and Ben were spending together since he’d started working with, instead of against Supe Affairs and the CIA. In fact, he was on an extended mission—hunting down a rogue supe in Idaho, of all places.

Freakin’ Idaho. Goddamn potatoes, you thought irrationally, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth.  

While he’d been gone, you went all out in decorating the apartment: red and white candles, stockings, various ornaments, multicolored string lights, and poinsettias. You’d even found a nice little tree that fit in the only free corner of the living room.

Well, you’d had to rearrange some furniture to make that happen, but in the end you’d succeeded. It felt like you were living at the bottom of a snow globe.

You hadn’t heard from Ben at all in over two weeks. The day he left you outside your office in the Surveillance department replayed often in your mind.

Two weeks ago…

“Don’t give me that face, baby doll.” 

Ben quirked a smile at your concerned frown, and he propped a gentle fist under your chin. You crossed your arms.  

You knew he had to go. Butcher and the rest of the guys were waiting outside the S.A. office. And you were proud of him for what he was doing, genuinely trying to put in the work on this “hero” thing. But you didn’t have to like the timing. It was only two weeks until Christmas.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Just get this guy quick. I don’t want to hear my aunt’s shady-ass sniping. Every time I show up to a family gathering by myself, she starts plotting my arranged marriage to her fucking pediatrist, her divorce attorney—mind the irony there—or even the guy who packages meat at the grocery store—” 

“All right, Christ. I’ll be back in fucking time,” said Ben. He grabbed your arms to stop your verbal flapping. Then with a grin, his hands moved to the curve of your waist, down to get a healthy grip of your ass. 

“’Sides, I’m the only one flingin’ meat around here,” he said with a deepening smirk. 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile threatened to take over your frown as he pulled you flush against him, trapping your hands against his broad chest. You found purchase on the hard fabric of his uniform. 

“You’re so gross,” you said. But you pulled him down for a searing kiss. If you weren’t going to see his handsome face for a while, then you were going to make the most of this moment. 

And it seemed your boyfriend felt the same way; his arms wrapped around your frame like steel bands. Your fingers swept through his hair as your tongue slipped into his mouth, making his grip on you tighten with a pleased hum. 

“Oi! Sid and fuckin’ Nancy,” Butcher called from down the hall. “Got a fucking job to do. Today, if you don’t mind.”

Ben broke away from you, just enough to frown in irritation over your head. 

“Calm your fucking tits, Churchill. I’ll leave when I’m good and damn ready.”

You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

Now, it was quite literally hours away from Christmas Day. 

You would be seeing your family tomorrow, regardless. You and Ben were supposed to go to your mother’s house for dinner. But you were starting to think that he might not make it tonight, let alone tomorrow. 

And if you had to deal with your aunt nosing into your personal business again, your hand might just “slip” while pouring yourself a rum-filled eggnog, so you wouldn’t be held liable for your actions when you inevitably snapped on the bitch.

Sighing, you continued munching on some popcorn while you focused on one of your favorite parts of Love Actually. Hugh Grant was shaking his ass to “Jump In” by the Pointer Sisters.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself doing a little shimmy yourself on the couch in time with one of your favorite rom-com Brits. 

With the TV volume as loud as it was, not even the door of your apartment unlocking could stop your mini-jam session. 

And the door soon opened, revealing a dusty, soot-covered Benjamin, still in his supe suit and tactical gear. He took a small step back when the gaudy Christmas décor assaulted his eyes, but he blinked through it as he turned his head. 

His lips curved at the familiar sight of you—bundled up in your pajamas and a fuzzy blanket on the couch, bopping to the beat of some shitty ‘80s song he actually recognized. You were alternatively mouthing the words and eating fistfuls of popcorn. 

Shaking his head, Ben stepped into the apartment and shut the door with some force. You finally perked up at the sound, your smile alight with happiness when you realized he was home. That alone made him soften a bit. 

“Ben!” You paused your movie and bounded over to greet him with a warm hug and a deep kiss.  

He brushed your hair back and allowed himself to revel in the familiarity of you in his arms. 

“Aren’t you a fucking sight,” he murmured.

Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.  

“You okay? How did it go?” you asked, wiping off some soot from his cheek. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ben offered you a cocky smile. “We smoked that pyro bitch.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Relax, the supe’s alive,” he said, rolling his eyes, as if it grated him to admit it. He wouldn’t tell you that the supe had two broken arms and probably a crack in his skull. “Being shipped off to prison as we speak.”

You nodded with a smile. “Good. I’m proud of you.” 

His lips pulled at a grin. But then you took his face between your hands with a hard slap (though it didn’t even sting, the point was made in your annoyed frown). 

“You’re late,” you said. Ben raised a brow. 

“Excuse me?” he said. 

“You heard me. You’re fucking late,” you repeated. “Go take a shower. I already started the first movie without you.” 

You tugged him by the hand and all but pushed him into the hall that led to your shared bedroom. 

Ben wasn’t one to be manhandled though. He dug his heels in obstinately. 

“Christ, I just got home. All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a more than suggestive smirk. He turned around and pulled you into his firm chest. His hands smoothed down your back and squeezed your hips, with his thumbs dragging under the hem of your pajama top.

While your lips threatened a smile, you had to wonder how he had enough energy for reunion sex, but not enough to watch a simple movie. 

Still, his offer was all-too tempting, making heat prickle along your skin wherever he touched. Nonetheless, you managed to remain stubborn and pushed gently against his chest.

“Down, boy,” you said. “If I let you get your hands on me now, I’ll never get through my list.”

First it was Love Actually, then Christmas Vacation, followed swiftly by Home Alone and its sequel, Lost In New York. 

Ben frowned at you. “So? Watch ‘em tomorrow.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You gestured to all your hard work in the form of the decorated apartment.

“Tomorrow, we have dinner at my mom’s house. So tonight, you’re gonna go shower," you said, pointing at him. "I’m going to make some more hot chocolate, and we’re watching all manner of cheesy, romantic, and downright silly Christmas movies until your Grinch-ass gets some holiday spirit.”

Ben released a tired sigh and dropped his hands away from you.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days," he said. "I’m not staying up all night again for some corny bullshit.”

You frowned in disappointment. 

“Ben, come on. Please?” you tried, but he just waved a dismissive hand and continued his way to the bedroom.

For a moment, you watched him go in disbelief. Was he really going to be like that? 

With a flash of hot annoyance, you huffed and decided that you weren’t going to let him ruin the night for you. 

So you went into the kitchen and whipped up some hot cocoa, breaking out the actual Godiva chocolate bars you bought just for this moment. You poured out one mug initially. But you listened to the old water pipes working, knowing that Ben must’ve been taking a shower. 

You knew he wasn’t just tired. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to tomorrow either, and  was going along with it for your sake. Which, to be fair, could just mean he still wasn’t totally comfortable around your family. (Your sister Luisa still hadn’t totally warmed up to him.)

You also had a feeling that he just wasn’t into Christmas.

The question was why… 

But you poured a mug for him anyway, adding some mini marshmallows into each one. You brought both mugs with you back to the living room and set them down on the coffee table. 

Getting comfortable on the couch again, complete with your blanket, mug, and the popcorn bowl, you pressed “play” and continued watching the movie…even though you felt just a bit lonelier. 

But then, a weight dropped on the other end of the couch. You flinched and looked over at your now clean and pajama-clad boyfriend, who eyed you begrudgingly with his arms crossed over a soft plain shirt. 

You smiled at him warmly. “Hey, baby.”

His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” Biting your lip, you set down the popcorn on the coffee table and handed him the spare cup of hot chocolate. 

“I made some for you,” you said. He gave you a brief nod and took a dutiful sip. But not even rich, chocolatey goodness could curb his sour mood as he stared blandly at the screen. 

You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face. 

When he stifled a yawn, you knew that he hadn’t been lying. He really was tired. Sometimes you forgot that while Ben was all but indestructible, even he had his limits. Chasing that rogue supe across the country must’ve taken it out of him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

So you reached over and plucked the mug out of his hand. His brows knit together as he watched you set it down on the coffee table with yours. Then you grabbed his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” you said, tugging him toward you. 

“What now?” he groused. 

“Just come on. Don’t bitch,” you teased. You guided him to lay across the couch, with his head pillowed in your lap. You grabbed an extra throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, making sure that it covered him up to his chest. 

“What am I, a damn kid?” he said. But you knew his griping had no real weight. Already he was humming deep with pleasure as your fingers carded through his soft brown hair. You let your nails drag lightly over his scalp, massaging his head. Your free hand stroked his cheek. 

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh through his nose. The movie continued to play, but you were no longer paying much attention. This was more important. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were drawn to the small, four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room, next to the TV. 

“That’s a poor fucking excuse for a tree,” he said. 

You frowned and followed his gaze. 

“I think it’s adorable,” you replied. And it was the only one you thought would fit in this cozy, but very narrow apartment. 

Ben’s arms crossed over his blanket.

“I’ll go tomorrow, find us a real fucking tree,” he said. 

Your frown deepened a little. “But I already decorated this one. All by myself, I might add.”

He eyed you then, a bit softer.

“All right, we’ll get a second one for the dining room,” he grumbled. “Getting the tree up is a man’s job anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at that. But you tried to see if there was anything deeper to read in his words. Not for the first time, you wondered how he’d spent his holidays in the past. No doubt with a lot of fanfare and celebrity parties during his hay day as Soldier Boy. You were more interested in his life before that.   

“I remember, my mom would run the show at Christmas,” Ben said.

You blinked down at him in surprise. Without knowing, he’d opened up on your exact curiosity. 

Or maybe he just knew you better than you thought.

“She’d have all the help in a damn tear around the house. Cooking, decorating, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect scene, like something out of a catalogue,” said Ben. “But getting the tree was always my dad’s job. His only job, really.”

You smiled and continued to listen with rapt attention. Your thumb continued to stroke along his neck. 

“One year, he got this massive one. Must’ve been…I don’t know, twenty feet. I don’t even know how he got it through the door, but he was mighty fucking proud of himself,” Ben said.

His gaze trailed beyond you, lost in faded memories. They played in his mind like a reel, wordless, but bright and warm. 

“Who decorated it?” you asked. Your voice drew his attention back. 

“Me and him,” Ben admitted, surprising you yet again. “Meanwhile, Mom baked up a storm for the Christmas party they threw every year…”

It was a rare moment where Ben recalled what seemed to be a nice memory of his father. But soon enough, the nostalgia dimmed from his eyes.

He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his mouth, as if that could erase his moment of vulnerability. 

Then he turned to face the TV screen. 

“So what’s even happening here? Seems like there’s four goddamn movies playing at once.”

You cracked a smile and continued brushing your fingers through his hair. You also rewinded the movie so he could actually follow the story.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this movie so classic. See, there’s Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. They’re married, kids, the perfect life, right? But he’s actually cheating on her with a younger, sluttier woman.”

“…And this is a fucking Christmas movie?”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Then there’s Liam Neeson.”

Ben perked up at that. “The Taken guy?” 

You nodded. “Yep! He’s a widower, but he has a stepson who’s got a sweet little crush. So he’s gonna try and help the kid impress the girl by helping him learn the drums.”

Your boyfriend nodded. 

“Musicians get plenty of pussy, that’s for damn sure,” he said. And with a knowing grin, “Actors get more though.”

You snorted and pointed to Hugh Grant next. “He’s my favorite. He’s playing the Prime Minister, who falls in love with his assistant, Natalie. That’s her right there.”

Ben raised a brow at your choice of “favorite.” If nothing else, he noted your type for older men. 

But he smirked when Natalie kept verbally fumbling in Hugh’s presence, then stared along with the Prime Minister at the woman’s ass when she walked away at the end of the scene.  

“Hmm, I’ll admit. She’s got a juicy peach,” Ben remarked. You laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. It worked an amused smile onto his face. 

He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed the back of it to his lips. You blinked down at him, and you warmed with a smile at seeing his more relaxed face. 

He kept your hand on his chest, his thumb drawing back and forth over your wrist. 

So you proceeded to explain the various angles of the movie until he was all caught up. 

You two watched the rest of it together. Like always, you cried when Colin Firth poured his heart out to his housekeeper, Aurélia, half in his mangled Portuguese and half in English. You cried again when Emma’s character finally confronted her cheating bastard husband. 

And you held your breath when Hugh and Natalie kissed as the stage curtain fell down, revealing their relationship to the world. 

By the time the credits rolled, you were an emotional mess. You were happy though. Typically you’d watch this movie with your sister, but it was nice to share the holidays with someone… 

Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa. 

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was asleep. He had turned onto his stomach. His head still rested in your lap, his cheek pillowed by your thigh, and he had a hand curled around your leg. Your big, growling bear of a man had a gooey center that sometimes surprised even you. 

For one mischievous moment, you considered sticking a piece of popcorn up his nose. 

He looked so damn peaceful that you didn’t want to ruin it…yet now you couldn’t get up either. 

Shit, you thought, but your grin was soft. Oh, whatever. Sleep is overrated.

You queued up Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation next in your movie marathon and settled in. You laid a gentle hand on Ben’s back, between his broad shoulders. 

And his story about his parents returned to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe he didn’t hate Christmas. Maybe it was just difficult for him to remember the genuinely good ones. Maybe he missed his parents; both of them, despite how contentious it had been between him and his father. 

You could certainly understand that. But now, you would make sure he would remember this one for the “good” column.

You only startled a little when your cell phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen read 12:00 a.m. It was officially December 25th. 

You then felt Ben’s warm hand squeeze your leg. His eyes were still shut though, his breathing deep and even in sleep. 

With a smile, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

And you whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

AN: Yay! I hope you liked this fluffy one for SB. 🎄❤️

Did you like Ben's little day trip down memory lane? Let me know in the comments! 😘

**Note: There will be two more parts to this due to popular request!

Keep Reading: PART 2

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[hoemainexpansion]

SUMMARY: You’ve been married to your husband Satoru Gojo for almost five years and things have been as perfect as they can be. You still go on dates, try new things, and spend a lot of time together. To celebrate your five year anniversary, the two of you decide to throw a vow renewal ceremony. But the day before your anniversary, he vanishes. After spending what feels like decades searching for your husband, he returns. But he doesn’t return as the man you once knew. Can the two of you navigate all the changes to your lives and relationship?

Also available on AO3 at HomainExpansion

Chapter One: Shoots & Ladders

Four years, eleven months, and three weeks. That’s how long you’ve been married to Satoru Gojo. While the two of you always make plans for your anniversary, there’s a lot more planning going into this one. It is a milestone after all. 

The one part of your tradition is that you always get professional photos taken, this actually started before you got married. Even though you take plenty of photos together throughout the year, you want to look back on your relationship in more than just selfies. It also gives you an excuse to wear matching outfits which the both of you love. 

The other part of your tradition involves the gift exchange. Neither of you want a gift that’s basically a price tag, so you agreed to choose a different theme every year and the gift must fit that theme. This gives you the opportunity to be sentimental, put a spin on an old idea, or be completely silly. This way you don’t have to worry about one person getting jewelry and the other getting a notebook. 

The first year was stuffed animals and you got him a squishmallow of his favorite Digimon character to add to his collection. He got you a vampire bear that when you squeezed its hand, it spoke in *his* voice and said, “I vant to suck your tits.” So you can’t let kids play with this, but the back had a heartfelt message embroidered that said how happy he is to be married to you. That’s one of the things that you love the most about him, that he can combine his loving side and his horny side so easily but it doesn’t feel like it cheapens anything. 

The second year’s theme was flowers. You got him a flower crown of blue roses, Alice in Wonderland style and he got you a bouquet of red roses. But once you looked closely, they all unraveled and were actually thongs wrapped up as roses. This fucking guy. Nothing like realizing that in the middle of a restaurant. But you still decided to keep them on display in your home because it’s funny every time you walk past them. 

The third year's theme was glass. Every month that you’ve been together, Satoru gets you fresh flowers when the others start to wilt. So his gift this year was a custom and very extravagant vase for all your bouquets. You got him a custom snow globe of the place you were when you had your first official date. Later on that night, he surprised you with a glass butt plug. If there’s one thing that man wants, it’s multiple things, multiple kids actually, and he’s not shy about it.

For your fourth anniversary, the theme was games. Apparently the two of you only had one thing on your mind and your gifts that year reflect that. You got him an adult version of Jenga full of sexy prompts. And he got you Sexopoly instead of another variation of monopoly to add to game nights. You already felt pregnant the second you took it out of the bag. That still didn’t stop the two of you from arguing about who the winner was. 

This year, the theme is a bit more sentimental. The theme is all about when you realized you were in love. You decided to make a giant collage full of some of your favorite moments with him. It’s going to include photos, letters, ticket stubs from dates, a variation of things. You’ve been debating on when to give him his real gift, the news he’s been waiting for for years, you’re pregnant. A part of you wants to tell him the night of your anniversary after the gift exchange. But sometimes you also want to tell him before the ceremony because it’s such a hard secret to keep. You also know that he’d probably love to scream it from the rooftop during your big day so it’s definitely a decision you don’t have a lot of time to make. 

But until then, it’s more planning and the running of errands. Satoru wanted to go all out for this anniversary and you’re not complaining one bit. Not only are you getting your photos taken today, but you’re doing a small vows renewal with your closest friends and family. Then you decided to take two weeks off of work and the two of you are going to go on vacation. It’s a lot, but you’re really excited. 

“How do I look? Good? I know.” Satoru comes out of the room wearing a blue sweater with a lighter long sleeve button up underneath and a pair of black slacks. 

“You look like a social studies teacher.” He does look good though. 

“Good. Now is the perfect time to do the teacher / student role play considering you’re perfectly dressed for it.” 

He’s not wrong. You’re wearing a light blue sheer button up top and it’s tucked into a darker blue, black, and white argyle print skirt. You made sure to put on white thigh high tights, and a pair of black ankle boot heels. Yea, he’s right, it’s giving schoolgirl. But you’re also serving a look and you know you are so who cares.  

“This is the most you’re going to get in that regard. I don’t have anymore room in my drawer for more costumes.” It’s full of costumes for everything from a nurse role play to the head cheerleader and football star. 

“That’s fine, we’ll throw out some of your work clothes.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“What? Once I knock you up, you’re going to have to take maternity leave anyway. So, less work clothes.” 

“One, you don’t go on maternity leave day one, I still need clothes for work. Two, maternity clothes are ugly. I’m still dressing the way I do now, I’ll just get everything bigger.” That might not be how they work but you know how to sew so it’s fine. 

You end up rolling your eyes and feel your resolve starting to crack. If you tell him, it definitely won’t be until you return home because he’ll tell everyone on the street everything he did to get you pregnant. You appreciate his enthusiasm, but sometimes it’s like, people don’t want to know strangers have a sex swing, unless they’re your ex. 

“Hey.” He grabs you by your waist and pulls you to his chest. “You look beautiful.” Then he leans down and kisses you. This man knows how to make you weak in the knees and it’s surprising that you get anything done. 

“Thank you, but please don’t smear my lipstick.” You’re already walking over to the hallway mirror to assess the damage. “It’s fine if it is, we’ll just go back to bed.” He says so casually as if this isn’t a tradition he wanted to start.

You just roll your eyes and grab your purse. “Let’s go!”

“Yes ma’am. How do you feel about a dominatrix fantasy?” This fucking guy. “if you get us there on time, I’ll do all the financial don stuff that you want.” You just had to sneak that in. You used to wish that you were one of those girls with the charm to just take a man’s wallet George Jetson style.

“You already take all of my money baby,” he says with a pout. 

“If you keep annoying me, I’ll take your dignity next.” Is he stalling for time? What the fuck? 

“Oooohhh, sounds fun. How do you feel about indulging a man’s humiliation kink?” He asks as he starts raising an eyebrow for dramatic effect. 

“I’ll tell you what, if you get us there on time, we can do whatever the hell you want when we get home.” 

That was a mistake to say because he decides to speed all the way to the studio. 

♡♥︎♡ 

“You’re still married to him?” Kento asks you, knowing it’s going to drive your husband crazy. 

“What’s wrong with me? I’m good looking and I’m hilarious” Satoru snaps back.

“She’s the only one who laughs at your ‘jokes.’” 

“She’s the only one that matters. If she laughs, I’m funny.” He’s not wrong. 

Kento walks over to you and puts his hand on your shoulder. Then he looks you in the eyes, and in the most deadpan tone he says, “please, it’s not too late to run.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that. You have this conversation every year when you show up at his studio. You used to wonder if he’s actually hated Satoru since high school. But, he’s still here and they see each other pretty frequently, so he must like him at least a little bit, you think. 

But there was a time when he absolutely meant that. Kento Nanami and Utahime Iori were the other members of your trio and your best friends since high school. When you finally revealed that you were dating Satoru, they were not amused and for lack of a better term or phrase, fucking hated him.  But throughout the years, Kento has come around. But not Utahime, she still can’t stand him and he plays on it constantly so you really can’t blame her. 

“So Nanamin, you ready to take our boudoir photos?” Satoru says with a smirk.

“That is absolutely not going to happen” you finally say. “Just our yearly anniversary photos, pleeeaseee.” 

“Let’s get started then.” You know Satoru is disappointed by his teasing time being cut short, but you're grateful. This man will go all night if nobody stops him. 

“How come you’re not that nice to me?” You hear Satoru ask as he starts going through his friends work bag. 

“I have no respect for you.” Damn. “Huuuuhhhhh?!” At this point, you’re a little surprised you’ve never seen them fight, even play fight. Even Suguru has punched Satoru at least once, and he’s basically the most chill guy on the planet. 

You’re full on laughing now and never understand when people say Kento has no personality. 

“So, how are you Kento?” You decide to start a conversation before your husband can annoy your photographer some more. 

“Things are fine. I’ll be leaving for Paris a few days after your ceremony for work,” he says while adjusting settings on his camera. 

“Oh fun! Are you going to come back with a supermodel girlfriend?” You hope so, you really want him to find somebody. And since you’ve seen him sitting poolside, you're even more surprised that he’s single. 

“Probably not, work is picking up.” Ahhh, that’s why. Work - a - holic. 

“Well, I’m rooting for you regardless.”

After graduating from business school and working in the stock market for awhile, Nanami said he needed a change. He said his job was, “soul sucking bullshit.” Even though your friend group takes a lot of pictures, he is rarely in front of the camera. He prefers to take the photos and that’s when you saw that he definitely had ‘the eye.’ One day you came across some amateur photographer contest and convinced him to send something in. He ended up winning, just like you knew he would. It resulted in him making connections and having a career shift. He gets booked for months at a time, but he still makes time for all of you.

“Come on Satoru! We don’t wanna take up all of Kento’s free time.” He immediately comes over and gets posed in front of the camera. 

“I don’t know what magic you possess to control a maniac like him so easily, but it’s powerful stuff. You should bottle it up and sell it.” Satoru is pouting now.

You stand up on you tip toes and whisper in his ear, “you can do it too. You just have to have sex with him.” His face. His fucking face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kento looking so disgusted, it’s awesome. 

“What’d you say to him?” Satoru asks you. 

“Nothing. Let’s take some pictures.” You can tell he doesn’t want to let it go, but he does. 

The photo shoot goes by relatively quickly, even with Satoru and all his antics. You get everything from the usual couple's photo to him stealing kisses and sneaking bunny ears. You even make sure to take a few photos facing sideways because you know your husband is going to want before and after baby bump pictures. You’re so excited that you’re starting to feel you won’t make it to the big day to tell him, and that you’re going to crack sooner, maybe you should. You really wish you weren’t so indecisive. 

Before you can allow your thoughts to spiral, the nausea kicks in. You try your best to hide it, but it’s apparently written all over your face. 

Nanami notices you looking a little blue and brings you a bottle of water. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little winded. Thank you.” 

Satoru comes over then and kisses you on your temple. “Let’s go eat, then you’ll feel better.” At least that part is true. While you’ve felt sick in the morning, and at night, food hasn’t been making you sick yet so you’re grateful for that. 

“Sounds good. Will you be joining us Mr. Kento Nanami?” 

“Thank you, but I must decline. I already have a business dinner scheduled. I probably won’t see you guys until your ceremony.” 

“Awwwhhhh how am I gonna survive with you for a few days Nanamiiiinnn??!!” Satoru throws an arm around his shoulder and whines that into his ear.

You’re starting to think that your husband is an energy vampire and he only feeds on Kento. 

“Alright, we’ll see you in a week then!” You give him a hug and head out the door. 

♡♥︎♡ 

*Four days until your ceremony* 

You’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything perfect for the ceremony and Satoru has been putting in extra hours at the office to ensure that he won’t be bothered while you’re on your vacation. Planning has been relatively smooth with the exception of the last minute venue change due to double booking. But that aside, things haven’t been nearly as hectic as you expected, it just feels more exhausting due to your looming pregnancy that you’re still keeping under wraps. 

The biggest back and forth between you and your husband has been choosing a place for your trip. It’s not that you can’t necessarily agree on a place, it’s more so that you two want pack as many things into one week as you can and that’s difficult because not one place will have everything that you want. The two of you settled on a trip to visit Las Vegas. It has basically everything; penthouse suites with gorgeous views, a ton of restaurants, shows, roller coasters, and the heat has let up so it won’t feel so grueling. Satoru will probably be a little disappointed that you can’t go on rides with him, but he’ll be more than willing to sit poolside with you after you give him the big news. You also got tickets for that Cirque du Soleil sex show as a backup. 

Satoru should be home from work soon so you decide to try on your dress before he gets home to make sure it doesn’t need any more alterations. It may be a little extravagant for a vow renewal ceremony, but who cares? It’s your day and if you want to splurge on a couture gown, that’s your right. This ceremony is literally night and day from your first one and you want to have fun with it. When you got married, everything was black, dark purple, and red. But that was to be expected seeing as you got married on Halloween. But this time, everything is full of bright colors. You’re wearing a white, silk, floor length, off the shoulder corset dress with blue gems to accent the seams and create a more mermaid shape. You even have some sparkly, strappy heels that lace all the way up to your knee because you know your husband will lose his mind seeing that. 

Everything looks perfect. Thank fuck. 

You put your dress back in it’s garment bag and decide to just take a breather. You lay down on the bed and decide to enjoy some of the last moments of silence you’ll have before Saturday. When you got engaged, Satoru actually suggested renewing your vows every year and at first it sounded cute. Who doesn’t want someone to love them to the point where they always want to show it?

But after all this work? Absolutely not. 

This will definitely just be a once every five years ceremony because the stress is stressing. 

Just as you feel you could drift off for a quick nap, you feel it, the fucking morning sickness that lasts all day. You run to the bathroom only to find out it’s a false alarm, just a strong wave of nausea, it’s awful. But that reminds you that you need to eat and you feel absolutely no desire to stand there and cook. You decide to order food from one of Satoru’s favorite places and then settle down on the couch. You figure that you might be able to get one episode of your show in before your loud ass husband walks in the door and talks all the way through it. You love him, but ‘spoilers’ may as well be his middle name. 

About five minutes into your episode, you hear a key in the door. Mother nature is giving you no breaks today, is she? 

“Honey I’m hoooommeeeeee! Where is the love of my life?!” You hear Satoru shout from the front door. 

“She left because you’re too fucking loud.” You hear him laugh from the hallway. You love having someone you can banter with. You made a joke like that with an ex and his response was literally, “if I’m such a burden, you can just leave.” 

You hear your husband walking up behind you, “then I guess it’s a good thing that there’s a beautiful woman on my couch right now. Interested?” 

“Depends, what am I being offered?” He narrows his eyes at you as if you just asked him the most ridiculous question. 

“Well, me, of course,” he says, beaming with pride. 

“Just you?” 

“Just me? Baby, I’m a prize!” “Eh.”

He chuckles and walks around the couch to sit down next to you, then he pulls you to him so that you’re straddling him. He’s only been gone since this morning, but it feels like it’s been days. Just being with him feels like everything and then some. 

“Hey baby.” Fuck, that voice. 

“Hey, how was work?” You ask him as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“It was awful,” he says right before he leans in and kisses you. “I missed you all day.” 

“You’re such a sap,” you say with no bite to your words because the truth is, you feel the same. Between the pregnancy and the upcoming ceremony, you feel like one big ball of emotions. 

You feel him start to kiss down your next, slowly, like every kiss is completely calculated. You lean your head back and start to run your fingers through his hair. He moves his hands to your waist and holds you so tightly, as if he feels you’ll slip away. You don’t know how he manages to make you feel so much by doing so little, but it’s still incredible to you. 

If there’s one thing that your husband is good at, it’s making you feel not just loved, but desired. He always puts his hands on you any chance he gets and touches you with such care that you know he worships you. Feeling insecure about your appearance is completely non-existent in your marriage. Your husband doesn’t touch you any more when you have makeup on than he does when you don’t. Your bitter ex tried to convince that one day you’ll wake up alone because he found someone ‘hotter,’ but you’ve never felt more secure than you do now. 

“I missed you too, I can’t wait for our trip,” you say as he goes back to kissing your neck. 

‘Me too. I’m going to absolutely defile you in that hotel room.” This fucking guy.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it, just let me take care of you.” Defile? That’s the word he chose? 

Just as he starts pulling down your top, there’s a knock at the door. He closes his eyes and groans, you can hear the disappointment even in that. “Who is showing up and ruining our ‘fucky fucky time’?” Is he serious? “One, I ordered food. Two, we are absolutely never calling it that.” You can’t even stop yourself from laughing because it’s so stupid and he knows it is. “That's fine, I’ll come up with something that you like.” The truth is, you don’t completely hate that title. You just know that if you were about to have sex, you’d laugh and dry up faster than you could recover. 

After dinner, you decide to head straight to bed. You don’t remember the last time that you saw your husband so tired, it looked like he was falling asleep with his fork in his hand. By the time he hit the bed, he looked like he was completely out. And even though it’s still fairly early, this pregnancy is already draining you, resulting in you crawling into bed right after him. You would have bet money that he was asleep before you laid down, but like every night, you feel an arm wrap around your waist and pull you to his chest. It’s like he has a sixth sense that only reacts to you, but maybe that’s not the worst thing. 

♡♥︎♡ 

*Two Days Before Your Ceremony*

 Fuck it. You’re telling him. 

You wanted to wait until Saturday to tell him the big news, but you’re doing it today. After this morning, you realized that you can’t put it off any longer, not even two days. You didn’t even notice that this was starting to make you a little distant towards your husband until he said something. “Are you upset with me?” Satoru asks you, concern written across his face. “I can stay home if you need me to, am I working too much?” Damn, you feel bad. “What? No. We agreed on all this together, I’m not upset.” How do you explain all the reasons you feel the way you feel without revealing too much?” “It’s just, you’ve been distant,” he looks down as he says to you. It’s almost as if he’s scared of your reaction. “It just feels like you’re always on the other side of the room. We haven’t been eating together, hanging out, having sex, and you’ve been asleep by the time I get home the past few nights.”

Shit. The real reason is that your morning sickness that’s supposed to only have you sick in the morning, has extended to the rest of the day. His cologne and some cooking smells have really been hitting you hard. And the fatigue? You feel like you now need three naps a day. “It has nothing to do with you.” Kind of.”I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather. I think it’s just a bug. I’m sorry.”

He steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist before leaning down and kissing you. He feels so good, but fuck this cologne. You just have to keep it together until he leaves. 

“Do you want me to stay home?” You can tell that he wants you to say yes, but you need some time to yourself. You just want some time to think and take a nap. 

“No, go do what you have to do. It’s your last day for the next two weeks, I’ll be here when you get home,” you do your best to force a smile.

“Okay.” He kisses you again. “I’ll check on you throughout the day. Love you.” With that, he turns to leave. 

You didn’t even notice that he was feeling you pulling away from him, that truly wasn’t your intent.  The situation is what it is, and it’s time for you to fix it. Tonight you’re going to reveal your pregnancy so that your husband knows that it’s not him that’s bothering you. It’s just his cologne, detergent, and whatever food he brings home. Alright, it still sounds bad but context is key. 

You want a cute reveal but unfortunately, you don’t have time for all of that. You thought about putting the ultrasound photo in his wallet and asking him if he had change for a larger bill, but he’ll just give you his card. You thought about putting it in his tie drawer, but this would be the one night he doesn’t go in there. So you’ve settled on a much simpler idea. 

When you were at the doctors, you got not only a photo, but a dvd of the ultrasound. That’s it, that’s the idea. You’re just going to sneak the dvd in and call it a day. It’s not one of your most elaborate plans, but you keep reminding yourself that he’s going to be so excited, he probably wouldn’t remember if you went over the top with the reveal. You did make sure to order food and time it with his arrival because there’s no fucking way you could stand in the kitchen for an hour cooking right now. 

You hear a knock at the door and start to freak out until you remember that your husband has a key and wouldn’t be knocking. That means it’s the delivery person and you’re going to wait a minute before opening the door because you don’t want to go viral for showing up in the delivery photo. After you feel certain that they left, you go outside and bring in the bags of food. As you’re laying everything out on the counter, you can’t help but laugh. It always reminds you of the time that you first met Satoru’s parents. They were coming over for dinner and according to him, they have really high standards. He said there’d be no point in trying to cook for them, so he just ordered food and passed it off as his own. He picked the fanciest place available on the app and put all the food in your pots and pans, turned the heat on low, and served it in front of them as if he cooked it. He’s so ridiculous, and he was right, they have the highest fucking standards. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely heard your husbands keys in the door. Here you go, it’s all or nothing, now or never, or whatever the fuck people say. 

You start to walk over to him, but he’s distracted with his phone in his hand resulting in him walking right past you, and into his office, closing the door.

Fuck. 

You can’t remember the last time that happened. He really thinks you’re mad at him. Time to do damage control.

You walk over to his office and brace yourself before knocking on his door. At first, silence, no reaction of any kind. You wait a few moments and then knock again. You hear a distant ‘yeah’ from the other side, he must be all the way across the room. You slowly enter and look around for him, spotting him at the desk, setting up his laptop. 

“Hey babe, everything okay?” You ask, a bit timid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this. 

“Everything is fine, I just have some work to finish up.” He never brings work home unless he decides to actually work from home for the day. But he never extends his day and works throughout the night. You made a deal when you got married that you wouldn’t allow work to consume you and once you get home, that time is for each other. 

You don’t want to annoy him, but you speak up again, “can it wait a little while? I have dinner set up and I thought we could watch something.” You can tell from the way he’s looking at you that he wants to say no. He probably wants space as much as you do right now, but this is for all the wrong reasons. You don’t want to miss telling him, you don’t want to go to sleep angry, and you don’t want this to follow you into your ceremony. 

“This is a big case and I should prob-,” you cut him off because you already seeing where this is going. “Please. Just dinner, and then you can go back to work,” you say as your voice starts to break. You see his eyes widen a little before he stands up and walks over to you. ”I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t cry.” He wraps his arms around you before leaning down and placing a kiss on top of your head. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“Were not supposed to bring work home,” you say as you look up at him, tears in your eyes.

“I thought you needed some space from me, it won’t happen again.” 

“I didn’t need any space, I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” He tilts your head up and kisses you, fuck, this man is great. “I ordered food from your favorite place.” 

He smiles after you say that. One of the things you love the most about your husband is his lack of being stubborn or spiteful. There’s no grudges and throwing negativity back in your face later. You get to work kinks out this easily and it’s incredible. After seeing your friends and family argue with their partners for days over petty bullshit, it scared you out of dating. But Satoru is the opposite and for that, you're grateful. 

You lead him over the the couch in the living room and the you start bringing over boxes of food and plates from the kitchen. 

“You need any help?” He asks you and you realize that now is the time.

“Nope, I got it. But, maybe you can find something for us to watch.” 

You walk away far enough that he thinks you went back to the kitchen, but you’re standing around watching him, trying to see his reaction when the time comes. He reaches for the remote and your heart feels as though it’s pounding through your chest. You see the tv come on and Satoru is just sitting there, frozen. 

“Babe! What is this?” He sounds confused, it’s kinda cute. 

You walk back over to him, “oh that? Just something that I picked up recently.” 

“Picked up from where?” 

“The doctor.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“The doctor?” He just continues to stare at you. 

“Yes, the doctor.” He’s just staring you down as if there’s some big prank going on. But then his eyes widen and his lips form an ‘o’ shape and he looks back at the tv. 

“Is this what I think it is?” He asks as he breaks out this huge smile. 

“That depends, what do you think it is?” You’re smiling too. 

“Are we having a baby?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice this high before. 

“Well, I’m having a baby. But you can stay and help out.” 

He walks over to you and kisses you, deeply, passionately. He moves his hands to your waist and you feel him pouring love into every touch. 

“I love you.” He tells you everyday, but something about it feels different this time, good different. “I’m so happy that we’re expanding our family. Thank you. I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you so much.” Many kisses.

“Alright alright, I get it. I love you too, now get off me so I can eat,” you barely manage to get out because of his onslaught of affection.

He finally pulls away from you and you go to sit down on the couch and eat. He comes to sit next to the left of you and snatches the fork out of your hand. 

“What are you doing Satoru?” 

“Feeding you. You need to rest. Also, practice for the baby. Here comes the airplane!” He starts making sounds that are not even close to an airplane and trying to get the fork in your mouth, which he successfully does once you start to laugh. 

“Sir, respectfully, give me my fucking fork and eat your own food. I worked hard on cooking this.” 

“Didn’t you order out?” He says with a smirk. 

You slam your hand against your neck as if you’re clutching your pearls, for dramatic effect, of course. “The cheek, the nerve, the audacity, the gall, and the gumption! I’ve been slaving all day while carrying your baby and you accuse me of lying?” 

“Isn’t the baby only the size of an olive right now?” Bastard.

“So what! You just told me I can’t even feed myself anymore.” Please let him give this up because you don’t think you have anymore comebacks lined up. 

“Fine, I’ll concede.” Thank goodness. “When did you find out?” 

“Uhhh, about a week ago.”

“Why’d you wait so long to tell me?” Is a week that long? Ehhh, maybe for someone as excited as he is. 

“I was going to wait to tell you the night of our anniversary. But, today happened. I didn’t want you to think I was pulling away from you because of, well, you. I was just feeling a little sick from the cologne and stuff like that.” He chuckles a bit, “so, still me?” Shit.

“But not you because you upset me, just the strong smells, and feeling more fatigued lately.” He hums at that. “I also figured you’d want to celebrate with everyone coming instead of finding out afterwards, so this just made the most sense.”

You thought he’d be more upset by you not telling him sooner, but he doesn’t, so that’s a relief.

“I can’t decide between calling everyone we know and telling them, or taking you on this couch.” “Satoru! I’m eating!” You giggle as he starts kissing your neck, This man’s libido should be studied because he went from trying to airplane feed you to wanting to fuck in like a minute. “Yeah, I know, I’m hungry too,” he says as he slides his hand between your legs. His ‘eating’ comments never fail to make you laugh even though you find them completely unsexy. 

You barely have time to react before he’s slowly pushing you down on the couch, kissing his way down your neck as he does so. It’s been a few days since the two of you had sex and you desperately miss the connection. But just as you feel yourself starting to get into it, things take a turn for the worse. 

“ Fuck, Satoru, stop.” He ceases all movements and looks up at you. You just cover your mouth and run to the bathroom in your shared bedroom and start to gag. This is so humiliating.

“Damn, was I that bad?” he asks as you’re hunched over the toilet bowl. You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but really? Now? You appreciate the attempt but you’re literally dry heaving with tears in your eyes. 

Once you realize you’re not going to actually throw up, you wipe your mouth off and brush your teeth anyway. “I’m sorry Satoru. You’re cologne, it smells like ten sprays instead of two and it’s getting to me.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he says softly. “I’ll take a shower, wash it off, and cut it out until it no longer makes you sick. Okay?” You love this man.

You decide to head to bed and get comfortable while he washes off. You grab your phone and pick a podcast to listen to while you wait for your husband to finish up. Even though you found out about your pregnancy a week ago, something about it feels more real today. It’s almost as if telling Satoru confirmed what the doctor already deemed to be true. Your family is expanding and you feel overcome with happiness and hit with a wave of emotions. Before you know it, you have tears running down your cheeks, worrying your husband as he comes out of the bathroom and sees you. That’s one part of the pregnancy that you hate, because you’re typically not someone who cries a lot. 

“Are you okay?” He rushes over and sits down next to you. The concern in his eyes is so evident you can’t help but feel grateful for him. The last man you cried in front of told you to do it in another room so he doesn’t have to hear it. But, not Satoru.

“I’m fine, just thinking about life, and the baby. I’m just… happy.”

You see relief wash over his features and that helps calm you down as well. He wipes your tears before he leans down to kiss you, first on the lips, then on your forehead. He stands up and walks over to the closet to put on his pajamas, which is just a pair of boxers, before he goes to his office to grab his cell phone, you already know what’s coming. 

You make sure nothing is playing on your phone and just listen for any sounds coming from the next room over. It’s silent for about thirty seconds, and then you hear it. “Suguru!” You were right. “I knocked her up! We’re gonna be parents!” You can hear the smile in his obnoxiously loud voice, but you won’t complain about the noise, he’s too happy. 

After that, the sounds are muffled, but you can tell that he’s still really excited. You hear him close his office door so he must be coming back to join you. The bedroom door opens and there he is, beaming like nothing could make him happier. He says your name and when you turn to look at him, you see his phone facing you, Suguru on facetime.

“Congratulations to the both of you,” you hear Suguru say before Satoru turns the phone back around. 

“She looks pretty good for someone who’s been carrying a baby for… babe, how far along are you.” You laugh at that because you just realized that you forgot to tell him. “Eleven weeks.” “Eleven weeks!” He yells into the phone, poor Suguru. “She’s more than just a pretty face,” you already know he’s about to say something ridiculous. “She’s also a strong working woman, mother,” okay, maybe you were wrong. “And a nice pair of tits.” “Satoru!” He just laughs that comment off, but you’re not surprised, he just can’t help himself. “It’s late, stop yelling at the man and let him get some rest.”

“Okaaaayyyy, mom!” Dumbass. “I’ll talk to you later Suguru. Love you, xoxo,” and you noticed he hung up. 

Years ago, before you started dating Satoru, you asked Suguru how he deals with him. He literally said, “you just have to know when to hang up or walk away.” You always praised him for that but you’ve since married who you once considered an annoying nuisance so there’s that. 

“Who else should I call and tell the good news?” 

“Whoever you do call, just please make it quick. I don’t want you to annoy people to the point that they don’t want to show up on Saturday,” you ask of him. And to your surprise, he agrees to only call one more person. “Alright, I’m calling Nanami.” Of all the fucking people he could have chosen to call at eleven o’ clock at night. He would pick the one person who needs a month to recoup after dealing with him for a day. 

There’s three rings before you see Nanami answer the phone, and you can tell from the camera that he was in bed. Now you feel kinda bad. “Nanamiiiii!” Your husband sings, he’s really trying to age that man as much as possible.

“What do you want? I was in bed.” Fucking Satoru.

“We’re pregnant! Well, my wife is pregnant, but she said I could stay.” He’s going to run that into the ground, isn’t he? You have a feeling he’s going to bring that up every time you ask him to do something that he doesn’t want to do. “Congratulations, that’s amazing news,” he says in that monotone voice, but you can tell he’s supportive. 

“Thank you Kento!” You yell from your side. All you hear in response is, “but, like I said before, it’s not too late to leave hi–” And then Satoru ends the call. 

“That’s enough of that.” You’re cackling now. You’ll never get tired of Nanami’s running joke, mostly because you know he doesn’t mean it. And honestly, you think it’s fair. Satoru loves playing pranks on him and annoying him so his one liners are fair game as far as you’re concerned. 

Satoru puts his phone on the charger and then he crawls over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you against his chest. You used to hate when people were overly cuddly, but being like this, with Satoru, has become one of the best parts of your day. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you feel him next to you. It’s as if his presence alone is enough to relax you. 

“Hey baby,” you hear Satoru whisper. 

“Yes?” You reply with a yawn. 

“I love you. And thank you for making me a dad.” 

You’re not usually an overly emotional person but you feel like you might cry again. Fucking hormones. 

“I love you too. And you don’t have to thank me. This is what we both wanted, and I’m glad you’re happy.” 

He hums and you feel him kiss the top of your head, and hold you a little tighter. Before you know it, you’re asleep.

♡♥︎♡ 

*the day before your ceremony* 

You wake up and find Satoru already awake as well, just playing around on his phone. You just look up at him, you can’t help it, he’s so beautiful. 

“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says with a smirk.

”I don’t want to break the camera.” That smirk? Gone. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” He asks you as he starts to get out of bed. 

“Whatever you wanna make.” You don’t want to be difficult.

“Ooohhh, so chocolate and strawberry pancakes? Drenched in whipped cream and and syrup?” Fuck no.

“I was thinking more like eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. Ya know? A breakfast for a growing adult.” 

“Sounds good…. For you, my love.” He bends down to kiss you before making his way out of the room and to the kitchen. After about a minute, you hear a ‘baaaaaaabeee’ coming from the kitchen. Just as you’re getting out bed to see what’s wrong, he’s coming back into the bedroom. 

“So, as it turns out, we have nothing for breakfast. And I mean, nothing.”

Then, it hits you. You forgot that you haven’t been ordering out just because you want to, the both of you have been so busy that grocery shopping has taken a backseat. That's definitely something that’s going to have to change before the baby is here. 

“We could—“ Satoru cuts you off before you can finish that sentence. 

“Don’t say ‘order breakfast.’” That’s absolutely what he was going to say. 

“My beautiful wife is carrying my baby and I’m going to make her a home cooked breakfast for the occasion.” 

“But we don’t have anything,” you say in response.

“I’ll just run to the store and go pick some things up.” Maybe you should order, that seems like a lot of work for breakfast. 

“I don’t want you to do all of that just for breakfast.” You already know that you probably won’t change his mind, but that won’t stop you from trying. 

“We need stuff anyway, I’ll just get enough until it’s time to leave for our trip.” You know he’s right. But who the hell wants to wake up and immediately run errands? 

“Well, I’ll go with you then.” As you start to get out of bed, he stops you.

“You’re carrying precious cargo, you’re not going anywhere that you don’t need to go. I’ll go handle everything, and you take a break and stay in bed a little longer.” 

“Are you sure?” He can sense your reluctance. 

“Please.” He kisses you. “Stay in bed. Relax. You can call me if you need anything.” 

You don’t want to give in, but you do. He goes to the walk in closet to get dressed, comes back to the bed to kiss you one more time, and then he’s out the door. 

You decide to take advantage and stay in bed to relax. You put on a show you haven’t watched in a while and get comfortable in bed. But as it turns out, you’re more tired than you realize and you start to drift off. 

About twenty five minutes into your impromptu nap, you hear your ringtone start up and you immediately know that it’s your husband, so you pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe! I was thinking of picking up some stuff to throw on the grill and maybe we could do a mini get together with our closest friends tonight. Ya know, before the big day? I just want to share the exciting news with the people who matter most since most people will probably end up drunk tomorrow.” 

“Well, they are gonna need the alcohol to tolerate your shenanigans.”

“Awwww I love you too. So, what do you think?”

“Sounds good. But you have to send out the invites.” 

“I already sent it to everyone in our group chat.” 

“Of course you did.”

“Sorry, I’m really excited!”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re doing the cooking, I’m fine with it.”

“Yay! Alright, I'm going to check out and then I’ll be on my way home to snuggle with you and our baby.” 

“Yeah yeah, hurry up.” 

“I love you!” 

“I love you too, Satoru. I’ll see you when you get home.” And with that, you end the call. 

Just as you’re about to put your phone down, you start getting a bunch of notifications. It looks like it’s mostly people letting you know that they got the invite and that they’ll be coming over tonight. For a split second, you were thinking it may be a bit much to have people over tonight when you’re doing something so big tomorrow, but you’re actually pretty excited. 

Through the influx of messages, one stands out, a text from your husband. You’re curious seeing as you just spoke to him on the phone so you wonder what crazy thing he’s planning next. You take a deep breath and open it,

Satoru, My Love: I know we just spoke, but I wanted to tell you again that I love you. I’m so excited for the future with us and our new journey as parents. Thank you for making me a daddy, and not just a ‘daddy.’ Love you and I’ll see you when I get home.

Sappy fucker. For all the antics that people complain about, one thing is true. Satoru has never, not once, failed to make you feel loved. And truly loved, not just in private loved but keep a distance in public. Even though you’ve been together for years, it’s like he still can’t believe he has you and he always shows it. He’s incredible. Even though he’s less than thirty minutes away, it feels like it’s taking ages for him to get home. You decide to just lay down and relax so that you can help him cook when he gets home, regardless of what he says. 

♡♥︎♡ 

When you wake from your nap, you feel as though you slept all day, cementing the reasons you hate going back to bed or taking a nap in the middle of said day. 

You reach for your phone to check the time and see that you slept for three fucking hours. You look to your right and see Satoru’s side of the bed empty, the bathroom and closet lights off, so he must be in the living room giving you your space. 

You get up, go to the bathroom, put on pants, and stroll into the living room to look for him. However, once you get there, you see that everything is off and he’s nowhere to be seen. 

Weird.

You walk over to the kitchen to look for him here, nothing. Balcony? Nothing. What the fuck? 

You go back to your bedroom to get your phone and see if you have any missed calls or texts from him, nothing. If he was going out with someone, he surely would have told you. But there’s nothing, well nothing from him. You start checking your messages to see if any of your friends mentioned him stopping by, but there nothing for that either. 

You’re already starting to panic. Due to your obsessive nature of watching true crime docuseries and YouTube videos, you immediately start thinking the worst. But, you’re going to call and text friends first and see if plans changed and you just weren’t informed. 

First call, Suguru. 

You bring up his contact and hit the call button, probably with a little too much force. After about four rings, you hear him pick up. 

“Hello?”

“Suguru.” Shit, your voice is already sounding shaky.

“Is everything okay?” You feel like you already worried him, whoops. 

“Ha-have you heard from Satoru?” 

“Not since this morning, what’s going on?” 

“I don’t know. He was just going to the grocery store and coming right back home. I feel asleep right before he was on his way and I woke up a few hours later and he’s not here. I was wondering if he was with you.” 

“No, he’s not here. I haven’t even heard from him since he sent out that invite.” Fuck. “But don’t freak out yet.” Too late. “I’ll call around and see if anyone else has heard from him. He may have just taken a detour.” 

“A detour from a store fifteen minutes away?” 

“Fair point. Just keep your phone on you, I’ll make some calls. Try not to stress too much, we don’t even know what’s going on yet.” 

“Okay, I’ll keep my phone on. But I’m absolutely going to go panic.” He chuckles a little bit you can’t blame him. You say your goodbyes and decide to sit in bed and wait by the phone. 

You get a notification on your phone and see that it’s Nanami. All it says is, “I’m coming over.” 

Shit. Suguru must have told him what’s going on and if he’s showing up instead of calling, it must be something serious. Before you know it, you’re crying and can’t stop it. You know they always say that things happen when you least expect it. But, what the absolute fuck universe?

About ten minutes later, you hear a knock on your door. Nanami must have already been on his way by the time he messaged you. You brace yourself before heading over to answer it. 

When you open the door, you can see it in Nanami’s eyes, pure concern. It’s the afternoon and you’re just crying in your pajamas, this sucks. 

“Hey. Suguru told me what’s going on.”

You spent a moment just looking at him, trying to figureout out what to say. 

“Just tell me, Nanami.” Now he looks confused. 

“Tell you what?”

“Suguru told you what was going on and you, being the most level headed in the group showed up. Let me guess, it’s bad news and you’re here to deliver it, right?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I have nothing to report. I just came by so you didn’t have to be alone while all these calls are made. And I thought I could check his computer, your tracking app, whatever the hell kids are calling it these days, that’s all.” 

In a way, you’re relieved. You hate being in the dark, but at least there’s someone to sit with you. 

About an hour after Nanami arrived, Suguru showed up. But there’s still no news on your husband. Suguru decided to call hospitals and jails, but nothing came from that. Nanami checked Satorus phone and he can only view its last location, the grocery store. It appears as though his phone has been turned off because it keeps going straight to voicemail. 

You’ve been trying to remain calm all day, but you’re entering full blown panic mode. 

“We should call the police. Something’s not right,” you hear Nanami say and you immediately burst into tears. 

“Fuck, you’re right,” you barely manage to get out through the tears. 

“I’ll make the call.” Nanami excuses himself from the table and returns to the office to retrieve his phone. 

Suguru tries to calm you down, but it’s too no avail. You’ve never experienced this much fear in your life and it’s overwhelming you. Nanami walks back over to the table and that’s when you hear it,

“I need to report a missing person.” 

[mistydeyes]

141 boys and your oddly specific hobby

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Most people have hobbies like drawing or bird watching, however, yours are more unique. Regardless of your odd interests, the 141 still loves you, their quirky significant other!

pairing: 141 x gn!Reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: By popular vote, this won so please enjoy :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Price - matchbook collecting

When you first met Price, it was when you both dipped your hands into the matchbook jar. The jar sat at the host stand of a dive bar and you both happened to go for it at the same time. Although, you two had different motives. Him, because he forgot his lighter, and you, because you wanted to add something else to your collection. He wouldn’t pass up on a pretty face who he presumed also smoked, so he invited you for a light. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were just a collector so you joined him outside.

What started as a quick smoke ended up being two hours of witty conversation. As your pleasantries turned into various topics and ramblings, you were glad you finished the cigar quickly, trying to emulate the mature man’s actions. He vaguely talked about his occupation, a high-ranking military man, and you talked about your non-comparable, boring civilian life. However as the late night hours slowly approached, you wrote your number on his matchbook and thanked him for the cigar and friendly chat.

On your next date, you revealed your odd hobby to Price. “I’ve been collecting them as a child. It’s like collecting snow globes from different destinations but much easier to display and transport,” you said as you both leisurely sipped your drinks. “And to think I thought you were out for a smoke, good thing I left my lighter that day, Love” he replied and gave you a subtle wink. You eventually showed him pictures of your growing collection, recounting where each one was from and showing him some of your favorites.

Soon everywhere he went, Price noticed the unique matchbooks. It started with pocketing a matchbox while he was in Amsterdam and grew slowly. Soon he would start a collection of his own, bringing them home to you with a story of where they each came from. After what seemed like 30 matchbooks in Price's collection, the 141 took notice. “Captain, you some pyromaniac or something,” Soap joked. “Just for my partner, weird collection of there’s” Price responded and no one questioned him further. Although, he still keeps the matchbook that has your number on it in his collection.

Soap - soap making

“You’re never gonna believe me, but I make soap as a side business.” Soap thought it was a joke at first, something to make him laugh when you first met. But when he entered your flat, he was shocked at how honest you were. Your walls were filled with shelves lined with every scent known to man along with hundreds of designed soaps. It smelled like a Lush store when he walked in and he marveled at your creations.

You watched him bask in the glory of the soap for a moment as you laughed heartily. "I told you so," you said as he went about sniffing each one and examining them. You organized them by scent and interrupted him as he approached the floral section. "Having fun there, Johnny?" you asked and he looked up at you as he held one of your rose-scented creations in his hand. "Can't believe this," he said and you smiled as he continued. Eventually, after he had smelt every single bar, you took him into a room where you were working on some new items for your fall collection.

"You have more!" he gasped and went to examine the bars of soap in their molds. "My Autumn collection," you said proudly, "here come smell this one." You led him to a table that housed an orange-hued soap slab with leaves delicately placed throughout the hardened bar. He held the slab in one hand and placed it up to his nose. His eyes lit up as a mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin filled his nostrils. "Smells like a pie," he joked and you showed him various others.

For his return from deployment, you had a surprise. You had spent weeks perfecting this formula and finally were satisfied. As you walked to his flat, you gently tugged on the striped ribbon that tied the parcel together. When he opened the door, he noticed the box in your hands and ushered you in. He excitedly tugged the ribbon off the box and opened it. He gasped when he saw two bars in the colors of the Scottish flag lying on a pile of recycled confetti. "What's this?" he asked and you motioned for him to turn the bars over and smell them. As his calloused hands turned the soft bar over, he noticed the packaging said "The Scotsman." He smiled widely as he placed them both up to his nose, taking in the smells of rain and pine. You swear you could see him tear up when he said, "Reminds me of my own home."

After this, he insisted you mass produce these bars of soap for his friends. You sheepishly did so and when you presented it to the other 141, Gaz loudly remarked, "He's finally done it, Soap is now a bar of soap." 

Gaz - raising butterflies

He had heard about people having pets—even raising chickens but never butterflies. Your house was a sanctuary, filled with small enclosures of cocoons along with various flowers for your butterflies to suck nectar from. When he entered your house, it was like that scene where Alice first sees all the flowers in Wonderland. He felt like a child, seeing all the gorgeous wings floating around the room. He saw a delicately monarch land on a peony and approached it quietly.

"Here hold out your finger like this," you said and showed him how to stand gently and hold out his pointer finger. As he followed your actions, the butterfly gently landed on him. He looked in awe at the insect and you stealthily took a picture of him. The rest of the afternoon, you described to him what flowers butterflies like best and the lengthy process of tending to them before they reached metamorphosis.

Whenever Gaz was on deployment, he would always visit to relax in the butterfly sanctuary. He loved watching as you tended to the flowers and gently fed the butterflies sugar water. Even when he was on a mission, he would be sure to ask about some of his favorite butterflies, even going so far as to name them. "How's my girl, Cressia, doing?" he asked over FaceTime as you walked to find the Great spangled fritillary amongst the zinnias. "Here she is!" you exclaimed and pointed the camera at Cressia, a gorgeous butterfly with golden yellow wings. You could hear someone snicker in the background but Kyle didn't care as he continued to take screenshot after screenshot.

For your first anniversary, Kyle was unfortunately deployed and couldn't celebrate with you. This didn't stop him from showering you with gifts. As you sat in the conservatory, you could hear the doorbell ring. You emerged to find the postman holding two boxes for you, one smaller than the other. You took them inside as you delicately opened up the larger package. Inside, was a note describing the care for 23 painted butterflies along with rows of small cocoons. You smiled as you read the instructions and went to place the new members into their homes. After you got them settled, you opened the small box to reveal a necklace with a small butterfly charm carved from a pearl. A note inside read, "Happy anniversary, now you can carry a butterfly with you anywhere you go."

Ghost - bookbinding

When you first invited Simon over he was quick to notice your many bookshelves all lined with books of the same aesthetic. He knew some of these were Penguin clothbound Classics but was certain they hadn't bound The Hunger Games in their unique cover. As he held The Harry Potter novels and My Year of Rest and Relaxation in his hands, he silently contemplated if he had missed a few years and these were published classics. You came into the library with two glasses and laughed at his bewildered gaze. "You discovered my little hobby, Simon," you joked and offered him a glass. As he sipped on The Paper Plane cocktail, you recounted how you would spend your free time rebinding books that didn't match your aesthetic. "It took me a while but having a matching library like this one is worth it," you said and waved your arm to the rows of books, all with a unifying factor.

As you entered into a long-term relationship, it was clear Simon loved your hobby and indulged in it. Every time he visited, he insisted on bringing you the few books he owned to create Penguin Classic-like covers. From military manuals to a vintage copy of The Art of War, you quickly rebound them and presented him with his new book. He even told you that some of his colleagues had complimented your handiwork. You always blushed in response, citing your eye for design as the cause of all the madness.

Eventually, Simon gifted you with the paperback Penguin Classics. You opened the door to see him carrying a pile of books in his arms. You quickly ushered him to the library where he set them all down on your vintage leather couch. "For the person, that has everything," he said and you went to examine all of the books. He had seemingly bought out the whole collection as you marveled at each of the covers. "Each one of them has an art piece on it," he said and you began to notice the trend. You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek as you held Wuthering Heights in your hand. He quickly snatched it out of your hands before you could even start to rip off the cover. "Keep these, I know you have a theme going on but it doesn't hurt to have some variety," he said and gave you back the book as you stared up at him.

Now whenever someone comes to visit you, they always notice the black-bound books on display. Although they do stick out, you love recounting the story of how your significant other bought you some of the most prized objects in your collection.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 4

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1874

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“Are you excited?” Jake asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. 

You take a sip and let the liquid run down your throat, then pull the cup away from your face to examine it. Your eyes dart from the caramel-colored drink to your roommate and back. He keeps getting it right, and you don’t know how. It’s as if you wrote the exact measurements of the contents of your usual coffee order on a sticky note and slapped it on the fridge so he had no choice but to memorize it. 

“Thank you,” you say. “And, yea…I guess so. It’ll be nice to have a reason to get out every day, but I have a feeling I'll be bored sitting around.” Which you’re perfectly fine with. A job is a job in your mind, and stumbling upon the gift shop across from the beach was convenient for both hirer and hiree. But Jake doesn’t need to know just how unfeeling you are toward your new job. You wouldn’t put it past him to try to unnecessarily cheer you up.

He’s done it a lot. At any hint of distress, you find him beside you. And as someone who finds themself lost in thoughts that allow anxiety or stress or pain to seep onto their face, it means Jake Seresin is often close. Which also means you are constantly at war with what your mind is willing to accept. 

There’s the suspicious part consuming most of your mind, telling you that people—men like Jake, especially—don’t go out of their way. Not for someone like you. But another itty bitty piece of your mind wants to believe Jake truly is this nice and caring. You wouldn’t hate to have that kindness in your life be a permanent fixture. 

Since you moved in you can’t deny that you rise each morning a little less worried about what the day will hit you with. And you know it’s Jake who has fueled that—indirectly, even. He has yet to comment on you or your body or your clothes or what you eat. Neither positively nor negatively. Though you do catch him staring from time to time, whatever he is thinking doesn’t leave his mouth, which is far more restraint than others have shown in the past. 

Jake shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and shrugs. “We usually take an hour for lunch. I could always stop by.”

“And do what?” You can’t hold back your snort, nor can you conceal the upturned tick of your lips. Your first smile of the day, light as it is, and Jake’s eyes fix on your mouth until you say, “Are you overdue for a new keychain or cheap beach snow globe?”

“I might be. Those snow globes are great,” he says with a grin, endearingly crooked. “You know, you shake ‘em around; snow goes all over the place.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how they work.”

“Well then you understand why I might want a new one,” he sasses, all but sticking his tongue out like a child.

You hum to hold back your laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve started to find him funny in the last few weeks. Something tells you his ego doesn’t need it. Then, with your hand extended you pass him the mug and make your way toward the door to grab your purse off the nearby hook. “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks for the coffee.”

You are almost out the door, out of his sight and so close to gaining the distance you’ve decided you need from him, when he calls out to you.  “Hey, do you want me to pick you up at the end of your shift?”

The smile you’d finally let free from his earlier joke falls, and you swallow hard, suddenly wishing you’d had the money to keep the rental car you used to get yourself from one state to the next. Though you’ll have hours away from him for the day, and the days to come, Jake coming to get you when you’re likely drained from boredom will instantly ruin the mental fortitude you’re trying to regain. 

You’d never speak it into existence, but your new job benefits you in more ways than one. After coming up short on last month's rent, you’ll finally be able to put a dent in the money you owe him—because you are paying him even though he doesn’t ask for it—but you were also banking on the separation giving you the chance to get your thoughts and pulse under control. 

Anticipation has wormed its way into your daily routine lately. You wake. Wash face. Brush teeth. Dress. Think of Jake. Scold yourself for thinking of Jake. Itch to see him, for reasons you’d rather not focus on. Get pissed for the rapid beating of your heart. 

You don’t need it. Not the unexpected thoughts, not the chaos of your pulse, not the disappointment in yourself for failing to learn from previous experiences. Thinking of him too often will fuck things up and leave you worrying about much more than just Jake or his friends or the odd stranger paralyzing you from a sudden comment or snide remark on how you look. Before you know it, you’ll be digging into the front pocket of your suitcase for the final two notecards and tossing a coin. 

“It’s only a mile-long walk,” you say, praying the unsteadiness of your voice isn’t detectable through the wall segmenting hallway from kitchen.

“So?”

You sigh. Definitely not the answer you wanted. You don’t know how to respond. There’s no excuse on the tip of your tongue, so you settle on, “Have a good day, Jake. Go save the country or something.”

—

You were spot on with that boredom prediction. Hours have passed and you’ve been forced to fill the time with menial tasks that might just be shrinking a few brain cells. Examining every item in the shop, counting every item in the shop, recounting the little squishy sea critter toys after a group of preteen girls lingered too long in that aisle. As someone so used to being on the move, each minute is slowly eating away you. 

With limited options, there are opportunities to let your mind wander and, eventually, you drift into your memories. When the urge to stop them arises, you’re shocked that you kick it back. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re grabbing a pocket-sized navy-colored notebook and a pen with a plastic seashell for a cap. 

A self-help book you’d skimmed a year prior suggested writing things down to process trauma and grief. The author-slash-therapist didn’t ask for well-detailed memories and feelings, but instead, a quick scribbling of the first things that come to mind. Despite how simple the task seemed, you hadn’t considered it. It seemed silly to relive the pain, to rip open wounds. Even poorly stitched wounds, you won’t deny, that left ragged and raised scars. You’d just been content with no longer bleeding. 

But recently, you’ve neglected a pulling; a string threaded and knotted into your heart with a force trying to tug it free from the confines of your chest. Though you know that would only serve one unenticing purpose, to demand you examine the organ and assess the damage time has worn into it, you don’t reconsider flipping open the cover of the notebook. 

With a free mind, you write down names, places, and towns. You write down words that were thrown at you. You write down the first time someone attacked your most vulnerable parts. And the things said and done that drove you out of one location and onto the next. You write until pages of white are filled with what could only be compared to an insane person's pastime. You write until another customer comes in just as the sun begins to fade. 

You feel her presence before you look up from the notebook in your lap, and when you finally do, you internally flinch at the sight. 

The pin-straight yellow strands of her hair reach a few inches below her shoulders, her lips are coated in bright red, and her eyes are enhanced with heavy dark shadow tones. She is tits shoved together, pushing cleavage out the low V of her camisole, and tight ass filling out tighter, dangerously short, shorts, and tiny waist a man could wrap his hands around and touch fingertips. She’s everything you avoid, and she pays you no mind as she makes her way to the mugs at the back corner of the store before heading for the t-shirts.

It’s obvious she entered with a mission when you find her not one minute later standing in front of you and setting the items on the counter. As you scan and wrap the mug and place it in the bag with the shirt, you don’t miss the similar words written across both cheap gifts. My Boyfriend is a Naval Aviator flows in cursive script over the chest of the shirt. My Girlfriend F*cks a Naval Aviator curves with the rounded shape of the mug.

You wonder if that boyfriend is one of Jake’s friends. Rooster does have a girlfriend and you have no way of knowing if this woman is his type. You kind of hope she isn’t. 

“It’s sixteen dollars even,” you mutter. 

She reaches into her cami and pulls out a twenty, slamming it down on the glass countertop that doubles as a display case for the slightly more expensive, yet still cheap, merchandise. The leftover four dollars are then shoved back between her push-up bra and breast. The bag is ripped from your hand and she promptly exits. 

That’s one way to end a first day, you think. At least it was one more thing to do with your time. Annoying kids, a notebook you’re not going to dare touch for a few days, and a woman with underlying anger issues who reminds you too much of your past. You deflate as you realize tomorrow is not likely to end up nearly as eventful.

Closing the shop is, thankfully, a quick process, because you’d like to make it back to the apartment before the moon and stars become your main light source. Walking home in the dark doesn’t suit you but you weren’t about to accept Jake’s offer knowing it likely wouldn’t stop there. First he’ll be picking you up, then it’ll develop into him dropping you off, then you’ll be hanging out with him and his friends every weekend. And then what? What good will any of that do you?

As it turns out, though, you don’t have a choice. 

Once the building door is shut and locked, you turn to find a black truck pulling up beside you. Your heart misses its next beat as fear grips you, but then you recognize the vehicle. The passenger window rolls down to reveal sandy blond hair, then green eyes, then sharp nose, then wide grin.

“You didn’t actually say no,” Jake says. 

Fuck. 

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you step closer, wrap your fingers around the car door handle, and pull. 

---

A/N: ended up having to do something tonight, so this part came a little early. I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

[inkstainedheartbeats]

Part two of this. There may be one more part.

Slight content warning for vague but there child abuse

———————————-

Eddie doesn’t chase after Steve. To say what he does after he sits there blinking as the love of his life, his mate in all but bite, races out of their home would imply some sort of romantic grace. Nothing in what he does is graceful. The Beta bounces off walls, trips over shoes and fights for an agonizingly long time with the door knob. It’s the most nerve wracking thing Eddie has ever done, including but not limited to giving the lich king himself the middle finger before bashing his skull in with the Upside Down version of his warlock. He doesn’t even stop to apologize to Mrs Kendrick, the sweetest neighbor Eddie has ever had, when he nearly flattens her in his mad dash.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or terrified when he sees that Steve hasn’t left. That this frantic, terrible energy caught in his throat and gut won’t be released on the road. He slips into the passenger seat, whines low and mournful at the smell of sadness, of that broken snow globe smell that is thick as a hot box fog.

“Stevie, baby, sweetheart?”

Steve’s hands are still shaking. Brown eyes clenched closed. Eddie’s done this. Brought Steve to this point. He’s lucky Robin or Erica isn’t here. That Max and Eleven are clear across town. That Lucas and Will and Dustin are gods knows where enjoying the summer.

He reaches out, stops when Steve flinches away from him. Brings back his hand to his lap.

“I��m scared shitless, Stevie. Absolutely fucking terrified.”

Leather seats crinkle.

“That’s why I said what I did. And it’s not because of you. Well some of it is,” he’s trying not to ramble. Twisting his rings and talking. Wayne says that ooen communication is the key to any relationship. Eddie’s never been too good at that outside of sex.

“I had a shitty dad, and I know you had one too. I know you’re so goddamn confident that you can have those six nuggets and not become him. I know you know that loving your kid is unconditional. You do it for eight of them now.”

And it was eight. Because despite Holly managing to avoid the sheer terror that was Vecna round two she still fell into Steve’s orbit. Still wound up wrapping the gentle Alpha that is Steve around her finger. He loves his munchkins so goddamn much and they aren’t even his. It drives the traditionalist stereotypers up a wall and Eddie loves it. He loves how effortless Steve loves.

“But I’m not. He’s always in my head, Steve. When our pups do something, when Henderson says something. He’ll speak up. I think for a moment of the punishments that would have earned me. And I can see myself doing them. See myself turning on you when you try to stop me just like my mom.”

His mother was a mousy, sickly Beta woman that didn’t know what she was getting into marrying his angry Beta father.

“I don’t want to be him.”

Steve tentatively reaches out. Grabs one of Eddie’s hands.

“I’m not you know.”

“What?”

“Confident I won’t be like him. Like my dad. I’m terrified every time I look in the mirror that I’ll be like him. That I’ll be worse.”

He’s brought Eddie’s hand up to his face. He’s nuzzling it in a way that would make Frank Munson absolutely furious.

“I’m scared of so many things, Eds. But you turning out anything like your father isn’t one of them.”

Somehow, Eddie manages to coax Steve out of the car. To agree to calling in sick. It’s not fixed. Not yet. But they’re working on it and that’s what matters.

———————————-

Hoping this works

Tagging:

@xxbottlecapx

Now has a part three

[spacexseven]

Imagine waiting months for that one long holiday, finally youre able to go back home to your family...only to be kidnapped by doa on the day of your departure...how unfortunate

yandere content, kidnapping

manga spoilers about doa + kamui's identity. featuring all 5 doa members. there's a 'route' for each character. unedited, and much longer than i expected.

the least they could have done was be a little gentler going about it.

but of course, you had to suffer through being wrapped up into a coat and tossed into a portal like you were simply a bag of flesh and bone. the humiliation of needing someone to help you in your disorientated state once you tumbled out somewhere else and the nonchalant attitude of your kidnappers only made you more angrier.

any escape attempts didn't get you far; though the windows weren't barred, one look outside the huge ones behind sigma's desk told you all you needed to know—you were suspended mid-air, and it didn't help that there were armed guards constantly surveilling the building, and cameras in every corner. (and, you wouldn't admit it, but your kidnappers really frightened you. they were all ability users, and more importantly, all completely insane).

after multiple failed attempts at sneaking out through the door or hiding between customer's bags, threatening a guard to escort you out and even trying to hijack one of the cars, you decide to change up your methods. maybe instead of running away now, you could try and exploit your kidnappers and leave when they're finally trusting of you...?

CHOICE #1: SIGMA

you don't like any of your kidnappers, but the only one you could stand was sigma, who was probably the most 'normal' out of them. though you mostly came to that conclusion because he had yet to threaten you for trying to run, his lack of an offensive ability, too, was a huge factor in it.

and sigma was...kinder, in a way, easier to dissect and play into the arms of. you didn't have to say anything to keep him from using his ability on you, in fact, he confessed to you that he feared his ability would make you trust him less, and so he held back from touching you altogether. despite it being a non-offensive type ability, if he used it on you, he'd have immediately found out about your plans, so it was for the best.

it's not as hard to pretend to like sigma, because you found him sort of endearing. it's not difficult to let out a few chuckles when he comes running over to you with a book about jokes that nikolai was reading, trying to make you laugh with them. it comes almost naturally when you sit beside him into the late hours of the night, watching him do his managerial duties and study his customers, and you almost forget you're supposed to be using him. it's easier than you'd expect to confide in him your fears of fyodor and the jerk who threw you into his coat, admitting to him that you can't bring it in yourself to be around without being filled with a sense of fear. he reciprocates it all greatly, wrapping an arm around you (and by now, you realize, he doesn't even consider using his ability on you anymore. if there's anything he wants to know, mundane things like what you like to eat and how you like your coffee, he just observes you and finds out himself, or asks you) when you're drowning in your own sorrows, teaching you card tricks in his spare time and bringing you presents that he thought you'd like; little snow globes and records that remind him of you, things of that sort.

you have to remind yourself that your kindness is an act and not genuine. after all, this man was part of the group that brought you here to satisfy their own sick desires. sometimes though, you find yourself hoping that sigma wasn't as bad, that he would understand your feelings.

clearly, he doesn't.

"i can't believe you," his voice comes out as a choked whisper, his eyes fixated on your cornered figure, "you were going to leave?!"

sigma's back was to the door, effectively blocking your escape route. he was trembling all over, clearly overwhelmed and crestfallen by everything that had just taken place. you had tried to sneak away while on a shopping trip with sigma, only the second time that you were allowed to go out, but he had caught on pretty quickly, and now you were trapped.

"let me go," you plead, hoping to appeal to his sympathetic side, "please, sigma."

he shakes his head, still glued to the door, "no. i can't. you can't leave me."

"out of everyone else, i hoped you would understand. i thought you knew how i felt, trapped with dostoevsky."

sigma's eyes widen, confusion clear on his face before he exhales sharply and straightens himself out, seemingly deciding on something, "i'm sorry, [name], but i won't let you go. this is the only way i can have you."

"you're so cruel," he whispers, watching your devastated expression, "why did you make me believe you loved me?"

CHOICE #2: KAMUI

the hooded figure of kamui never failed to invoke a sudden sense of eeriness he made an appearance.

he didn't come by very often, but whenever he did, fukuchi always took a moment to come check up on you. at least when he's not donning his mask and cloak, he looks a lot less...frightening. you're not sure if he has anything to do with your kidnapping, because his interest in you rarely went past a curious glance and the occasional, hearty laugh when he comes across you shrieking at nikolai's attempts to drag you away from the open door.

you're not sure to make of him, with his fake public persona and his involvement with the doa, but he isn't as much of a threat to you as the rest, at least not directly. at the very least, when he comes over, nikolai is so much on edge that he doesn't try to torment you as much as he usually does.

fukuchi regards you as something to serve as entertainment; dostoevsky's newest toy, as you hear him say in passing. he watches you like you're something novel, like he hasn't figured you out yet. since he wasn't as involved as the others inside the casino, you thought he would be your best option to try and exploit.

your attempt at getting to know him starts by offering small greetings.

"captain," you say, waving at him as he walks into your room, where sigma is asleep on your shoulder.

he observes the two of you with an oddly soft look in his eyes, a stark contrast to his usual hardened gaze that stays even with a large smile on his face. then, he nods at you before walking away, gently closing the door behind him.

you try to open up around him more, even if it's not through conversing directly with him. even though you know he's watching you from the corner when nikolai is trying to coax you out of your new hiding spot with little treats, you don't shy away as you usually would. you loudly proclaim to nikolai that you'd only come out when fyodor stops being so mean, which is received with a exuberant laugh from the older man. huh, was that all it would take?

and it works, oddly enough—fukuchi starts asking about you, whenever he sees you after that, in between hushed conversations with fyodor, ("and how are you, [name]? is dostoevsky still being mean to you?" you force yourself to ignore fyodor's pointed glare and instead offer a meek smile). he makes more conversation, and you quickly realize he likes your honest comments, even if it was all just criticizing his subordinates. you think he must find you amusing, like a spiteful pet that doesn't give up an opportunity to attack, especially when he places a large hand on your head to stroke your hair, unexpectedly tender despite his ruthless exterior.

"why do you keep trying to run?" he asks you one day, after nikolai had dropped your bound figure back into the room.

you huff, "what do you mean, why? why would anyone want to stay here? any longer and i might go insane."

"oh? that isn't good," he smiles, but it's not the warm ones he gives you. this was...unnerving, "dostoevsky will have no use for you then."

your eyes light up, immediately considering a new plan to have fyodor throw you out himself, but you're interrupted by fukuchi's low chuckle, a dark gleam in his eyes, "worry not! even if he doesn't want you anymore, i'll gladly keep you. if i had known that dostoevsky had picked up such a curious little thing, i would have taken you before he had...well, what do you say?"

CHOICE #3: BRAM

to be honest, you felt for bram.

in a way, he was living just as miserably as you, locked up in a coffin and taken out only when he's needed, and without most of his body. it must be awfully disorientating to be shaken about by the stake through him, and he's always looked so...unhappy.

you're not sure how much help he could be in your plan to escape, except maybe provide emotional support, but who's to say he wasn't a resentful old vampire who wanted you to stay and suffer with him?

you soon learn, through awkward, stilted conversation and silent periods that bram is...not really as angry or scornful as you thought. he is bitter, and extremely uninterested in most things, but as long as you listen to his stories and provide your wholehearted support, he's surprisingly kind to you.

he doesn't even bother trying to offer any hope of escape, though. he tells you that you, like him, should just go to sleep and wait for the others to decide what they'll do with you. he reminds you that there's no escape from a heavily guarded, heavily surveilled casino suspended in the sky, and there's no escape from dostoevsky's cunning words or kamui's wicked plans. you're stuck here, just like him, left to lament the past.

when you suggest him using his ability on you, hoping that by being turned into a vampire under bram's control, he could find a way for you to escape, he looks horrified by the very thought. ("it's too much work for me now," he remarks, looking visibly irked, "to be turning humans. besides, what kind of foolish plan is that? and right after i informed you that i myself am not aware of the casino's layout.")

at least you have a friend here, even if he's constantly discouraging your escape attempts and convincing you to accept your fate. life would be terribly bleak if you were entirely alone.

CHOICE #4: NIKOLAI

out of the five, you hate nikolai the most.

your increased anger towards him stemmed from him being the one to actually kidnap you, as well as his daily attempts to get you to 'open up', which included him dragging you out of your room and annoying you incessantly until your patience snaps, relishing in your furious expressions. the most infuriating part of it all is that nikolai was never put off by your silent rage or your clear disdain, instead finding it all great fun. he thinks your frustrated words and attempts at hiding away should serve as his entertainment. nikolai laughs when you try to run, and he's always the one that whisks you back into the casino, no matter how far you've gotten. he never stops your escapes, though, almost as though he knows you'll end up back here, like he knows he'll catch up with you in the end.

but he's also unpredictable; for as much as he claims to love his job, he also tells you he hates it, and for every word of praise he has for fyodor and sigma, there are just as many potential murder plots. he's near impossible to read, but you think that maybe, he won't kill you unless you start boring him.

so if your escape served as entertainment for him, wouldn't he be more receptive about helping you?

you start off by seeking some civil conversation with him, but it's not working very well. nikolai tends to send any casual conversation spiraling into...odd directions, half of which you can't understand at all. and you almost start to feel like he doesn't want you to get to know him...still, you've got nothing else to lose now, so you keep it up. you entertain his ideas and go along with his pranks (even if it earns you an exhausted glance from sigma and thinly veiled anger from bram), you read the books he reads and watch the things he does at a mostly useless attempt to figure out his angle, and you even put in more effort in your escape plots, just so he doesn't get bored of you. but it's all in vain, however, because nikolai isn't someone you can just figure out. he's someone you're not sure you can even come close to understanding, let alone manipulating.

in the end, you decide the best approach is being forward with him.

"are you really asking me to make a deal for your life?" nikolai throws his head back in laughter, "this is why i like you! i was worried you were starting to lose your spark."

"i suppose we could come to an agreement" you should have known, really, that nothing good was going to come out of this when you caught sight of the malicious grin on his face and the wicked glint in his uncovered eye, "how about a game?"

"a game?" you don't bother hiding the skepticism in your tone.

"it's very simple! i'll give you an hour to leave the casino. all you have to do is step out of the building entrance, and i'll let you free. in fact, i'll even make sure that none of the others come after you after your victory!"

"but if you fail," his grin widens, "then you'll be leaving your fate in my hands."

the vague threat, combined with his unsettling expression fills you with a overwhelming fear. as if noticing this, he laughs. but now that you've put the idea in his head, you're not sure if he'll ever let it go.

"don't worry! either way, i'm sure we'll be having lots of fun!"

CHOICE #5: FYODOR

something was terribly off with the way fyodor looked at you.

despite the gentle smile on his face and the lovely way he said your name, all soft and gentle, there was an oddly distant look in his eyes. he observed you closely and made conversation—revolving around surprisingly mundane questions like have you read this book and what do you think of this movie, and are you familiar with this dish and this composer? and his tone is curious, a charming turn of his lips accompanying his careful probing, making for quite the lovely picture. but there was something meticulously crafted about it, almost like his words were practised and his reactions stilted. there was nothing genuine about the fond smiles or the barely-there touches. you wondered if perhaps, he was waiting for you to do something.

but you have to admit, you'll take the dread creeping over your shoulder over the blatant terror you're faced with when you talk to kamui, or nikolai. apart from his unsettling exterior, fyodor makes for decent company. he's quiet, but not the awkward silence that envelopes you when sigma runs out of things to say, and his questions never feel too invasive. he has a certain charm about him, you think, that makes him somewhat likeable, despite you knowing that he actively plays a part in whatever evil the doa performed.

these days, you spend more time with him. you find that the books he gives you are interesting, although not your usual taste, and that you look forward to seeing what he would lend you next. and the more you're around him, the more curious you get. why was he so...detached from you? why did he feel so disinterested despite being the one to initiate conversation? you try to listen for any indication of interest, and you think you find a trace when sigma tells him about preparations being complete, or when nikolai brings in some papers. later, you hear the same change in tone when you ask him why you've been brought here.

"why?" he smiles at you, and it's as beautiful as it is frightening, "i thought you may be of use to me."

"am i? all i do is sit around and...wait for something to happen."

"patience, [name]. i'm sure you'll figure it out on your own, you're quite smart, aren't you?" though his smile is still on his face, the hint of condescension in his tone doesn't escape you. you don't expect anything else from him, anyway.

one day, after you manage to evade nikolai long enough to sneak off to the lobby of the casino, fyodor stops by your crouched figure in a corner, still upset after nikolai's threats.

the ever present smile is still there, "caught again?"

you sigh, and look away.

then, he leans in closer, until his cold lips brush against the tip of your ear, "you might want to try the staff exit next time, or explore for other exits. there are many ways to come in and out the casino." you shiver, but his words spark a new flame of resolve in you. you've never seen fyodor come in through the main entrance, and he leaves quite often. if you insisted on seeing him out next time, you might have a better chance at escaping...

he doesn't look the slightest bit surprised when you walk with him as he's leaving a few days after, only glancing at you as he slipped on his coat. sigma frowns at you from the corner of the room, but noticing fyodor beside you, he goes back to his papers immediately. it must be nice having such an effect on people.

he's silent throughout most the walk, but right before he leaves through a door you've never noticed before, fyodor spares a few words to you.

"stay back a while and explore the building. not too long—someone will worry—but you should be able to find something helpful."

how strange it is that you found an ally in fyodor, out of everyone else. a part of you is convinced he must be playing a cruel trick on you, but you're willing to take any chances that you can find. when you're back for breakfast, you're grinning to yourself as you recount the two exists you've found, one hidden below a winding staircase, and the other at the opposite side of where the five gather with you. both representing hope that you can make it out.

both ways were failures. nikolai's grip around your wrists is painful as he guides you back to your room, goading you by belittling your attempts. fyodor is already waiting there, skimming through your current read, lingering on the pages where you've scribbled down your thoughts (the idea courtesy of fyodor). he puts down the book to look at you as you're embarrassingly being ushered back to your cell. at least nikolai leaves after sharing a few words with the other man—the humiliation of him having to hear how you'd been mislead would have been too much to bear.

your weak glare does nothing to perturb him, "you knew it wouldn't work, right?"

"nikolai is very determined when it concerns keeping you," he says, "perhaps you underestimated him."

"i thought you were going to help me leave," you groan, "i'm so stupid."

"now, my dear," fyodor's amused smile sends shivers down your spine, "why would i ever do that? were you not aware that it was me who asked for nikolai to bring you here?"

"but you told me about the other exists—"

"only to keep you busy," he interrupts, "so you wouldn't do something rash in a desperate attempt to leave."

"i thought you didn't want me...like how they do." because fyodor has never shown interest in you, not like nikolai's constant need to be around you, or sigma's shy way of sitting next to you when he's off work, but perhaps it meant something different, because it was him.

"no," he says, "i don't need to want you like they do, because you are already mine," he leans in closer, a hand on your cheek, "you are mine before you are any of theirs, and you'll do well not to forget that."

[rubyroulette]

GUYS I CAN'T DRAW BUT I NEED SOMEONE WHO'S GOOD AT ART TO HELP ME

I HAD A SILLY IDEA

Okay so I made this doodle to explain my silly little idea. Idk if something like it has already been done but I think it'd be really cool!

So basically a watcher would be holding a snow globe that has monopoly mountain in it, just kind of examining it. I didn't draw it here, but it would be the scene where Grian is about to jump. The cactus ring and scar laying down would most likely be visible, but Grian would be the main subject.

Since he's a watcher himself, instead of looking down about to jump he would be looking up at the big watcher kind of angrily. You know, for throwing all his friends into the games and making him kill Scar.

I don't have a cool watcher design so I just drew a poorly-made hooded guy with a bunch of eyes. (Yes I know their hand is in the wrong place I wanted Grian to be visible).

SOMEONE PLEASE DRAW IT CUZ I FEEL LIKE IT'D BE COOL

[born-to-lose-writing]

How Christmas Is Supposed to Be

Pairing: old!Slash x reader

Requested by @being-worthy

Summary: When Slash finds out Christmas used to be your favorite holiday until it became just another day, he goes all out to make your first Christmas together special.

Tags: fluff, Christmas

Words: 923

A/N: Two years after it was requested, I finally wrote it 🙏🏻 I was planning to write more Christmas fics this time, but I'm so happy I finished this at least

Tag list: @warriorteam1924 @slashscowboyboots @losers-yurio @lost-in-the-80s @jennyggggrrr @tuffduff @jonesyownsmyheart @smells-like-perfect-senses @whered0wego @rumoured-whispers @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @gloomy-blonde @cherry-jams (let me know if you want to be taken off the list)

For once before the holidays, you had a weekend with a chance to relax, so you and Slash decided to look through some old photo albums. If you weren't going to celebrate Christmas as much as Slash used to when his children were younger, you were still going to experience some nostalgia.

You were familiar with many of Slash's photos starting from his late teenage years, partially because you had seen them back when all he was to you was one of the best guitarists around and not your boyfriend, partially because he had shown them to you before.

Still, there were quite a few that were new to you, such as the ones in his childhood albums. Obviously, there were pictures together with some celebrities his mother had been friends or worked with, and while you were a little jealous he had gotten to meet so many icons as a kid, what caught your attention even more were his baby photos.

“Aww,” you cooed, pouting and pointing at an especially adorable photo of him at the tender age of 10 months. “You were so cute! What happened?”

He knew you were only teasing him and laughed. “58 years passing, that's what happened. You don't find me cute anymore?” he feigned hurt.

“I’d say you're sexy now,” you replied, giving him a kiss on the jaw. “But still cute.”

You pinched his cheek before returning to the photo album on your lap, turning the page to some more baby pictures of him. It was truly heartwarming.

In the meantime, Slash picked up one of your photo albums. He laid the one on top to the side when he read the words 'Christmas Part 1’ on the next album and ‘Christmas Part 2’ written on the cover underneath.

“You really loved Christmas, huh?” Slash smirked, opening the first one to see a picture of you as a toddler sitting under an icy blue and silver decorated tree. You were having a present in front of you, looking up at the camera as if you had been interrupted while tearing open the wrapping.

“Yeah,” you admitted, a melancholic smile on your face as you looked at the pictures together. “It was the thing I looked forward to the most as a kid, but over time it became just another day, you know? When I started studying and working, things got more stressful and I couldn't get into the Christmas spirit anymore.”

Slash wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “I’ll help you get in the holiday mood again, that's a promise.”

As usual, he kept his promise and when you came home from a long day of work on Monday, the wreath on the front door was the first hint at what you could expect inside.

You opened the door and spotted fairy lights along the door frames, green and red garlands leading up the railings of the staircase, candle arches in the windows, a life-sized nutcracker next to the backyard door, a snow globe on the coffee table in the entrance hall, mistletoe above every door and many more decorations you had almost forgotten about but reminded you of what your family used to put up years ago.

As you set foot in the living room, the scent of pine filled the air before you could even see the tree itself, bringing back memories from when you had gotten home from school and immediately felt cheered up by the scent of Christmas, no matter how your day had been. It was large and almost reached the ceiling, though just short enough to put a tree topper on, but it was not yet decorated.

Suddenly, Slash appeared from behind the tree, grinning when he saw you. “Oh, hello! Do you want to help me? I just bought some decorations, I hope you like them.”

You walked over to him and saw the boxes of ornaments, candles and tinsel on the floor. You genuinely liked them, but even if they hadn't been your style, you would have loved them for his effort alone.

“I went a bit overboard as you probably noticed already,” he chuckled. “And there’s still more waiting to be put up in the next couple of days. I got colored fairy lights for outside the house too.”

Smiling, you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Slash said and kissed you. “I thought I'd leave some for you because having other people decorate everything is boring.”

You nodded and took a bauble out of the bubble wrap, hanging it on a branch. Then, Slash joined in but took enough time to let you choose the placements of most ornaments, which you appreciated. He had already succeeded in getting you into the Christmas mood when you had come home to a fully decorated house, but it only now started to feel like the holidays you had loved so much when you had been younger. It felt simply magical, the only thing missing was baking gingerbread—and being lifted up to put the last piece on top.

Slash seemed to read your mind as once you were finished with the ornaments and the tinsel, he handed you the big gold angel and grabbed you by the waist, lifting you high enough to place it on top of the tree. When he put you back down, he spun you around once, making you giggle. “Let’s put on some Christmas music, shall we?”