#But I enjoyed it so much!! Had a great time! Now i can go into the tags and now worry about spoilers

[soft-beams]

you and me (let's make something great)

author's note: so i had an idea, and originally, it was gonna be a ficlet mainly focused on debauchery. BUT THEN my brain decided to turn it into something longer with plot, so here we are. it's very soft in the first bit but don't be fooled, it gets filthy as it progresses. please enjoy!

cw: gp!vi, afab!reader, pregnancy talk, breeding kink, dirty talk, nsfw 🔞 (primarily in the second part)

wc: 3.3k

dividers: @/cafekitsune

part i: let's talk about it

There’s always been talk of starting a family.

Kids with the white picket fence and a garden large enough for them to run around. Maybe a dog or two and a cat because you’ve always spoken about how much you want one. It’d be everything that’s so simple and expected of a family, something so ordinary that it’s almost laughable. But you and Vi never had the opportunity to experience what the ordinary family is.

She grew up an orphan with only her sister by her side, only able to survive due to Vander’s kindness.

You had your own set of problems; a family that didn’t listen or could listen but choose not to.

So to have a family where you can give your children the life you weren’t able to have, that means the whole world and more.

Vi toys around with the idea of asking you again, about the possibility of starting your family as soon as possible. You’ve been together for ten years and married for two, and life has never been as perfect as this.

You’re both doing well at work, bills are being paid on time and there’s even some savings in your joint account. Even savings to potentially look into starting something if that is what you want.

You’re swaying around the kitchen, speakers blasting your playlist as you cook up dinner for tonight. You’ve settled on a simple pasta dish, warm and spicy with delicious herbs. The sauce is bubbling away on the stove and your hips follow the stir of your wooden spoon. You bring the spoon up to your lips, blow gently before having a taste. A hum leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, pleased with what you’re creating.

Vi’s enchanted by you and one might call her silly, to be captivated by you merely making dinner. But it’s the mere act of it, the domesticity of it all and how you show your love through everything you do. Even if it’s cooking a dish that you’ve both eaten a hundred times before.

That’s what being in love is and Vi is greedy to share that with someone who’s both her and you.

“Taste this for me?” You ask, facing where she’s sat at the kitchen island. Vi’s quick to hop off her stool and make her way towards you. Her arms encircle you the moment she gets close and your smile brightens at the touch. You lift the spoon up to her lips and even though she knows it’s delicious, Vi goes in for a taste. She mimics your pleased hum from before, swaying you to the slow beat of the song that now plays.

“Babe, you crush it every time,” Vi reveres, causing you to roll your eyes fondly. “How do you do it? Were you a famous chef in your past life or what?”

“It’s pasta sauce,” you respond, voice deadpan but expression vibrant. “The same pasta sauce we’ve been making for five years and can make with our eyes closed.” You turn around in her arms so you can attend to the sauce, Vi taking this opportunity to latch onto your back. She nuzzles into the curve of your neck, pressing a kiss into the sensitive spot there just so she can feel you shiver. “It’s hardly Michelin star worthy.” You pause. “Wait, can dishes be given Michelin stars?”

“Fuck if I know,” Vi murmurs, hooking her chin over your shoulder and settling in. From here, she can see a pot full of water boiling for pasta and the sauce thickening nicely in its pan. “So I want to talk to you about something.”

“We can’t go to the water park next week,” you say, amused. “We’ve had this discussion like six times and as much as I would like to go and hit the wave pool, there’s no—”

The laughter that bursts out of Vi’s mouth is enough to hurt her chest. But it doesn’t stop her from cackling, burying her head into your shoulder in an attempt to muffle how loud she is. She can feel the shaking of your body and hear your lovely laughter as you join her, fully leaning into her chest for support.

“No, you idiot,” Vi manages to say through her chuckles. “Oh fuck you, this was supposed to be a serious thing.”

“Why do you think I said what I said?” You retort playfully and Vi falls even more in love with you, as if that’s even possible. “But tell me what’s on your mind, baby. What’s going on?”

Vi takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second to gather herself. When she opens them, you’re turning off the burner for the sauce and reaching for the fettuccine to the side. Just as you’re pouring the pasta into the bubbling water, Vi’s thoughts spill out.

“I want to have a family with you.”

You go still for a moment, your arms poised above the boiling water with the empty pasta box in your hands. Vi’s unable to see your face but she isn’t necessarily worried about your reaction. It’s a conversation that you’ve had multiple times over the span of your relationship, but today is where you start taking steps towards putting it in action.

“Well, yes,” you start, placing the pasta box back on the counter. Then you’re turning in her arms so you’re facing each other again, your eyes peering into hers. “We’ve spoken countless times about this.” You smooth your hands over the rounds of her shoulders, your face soft. “I’m still very much onboard with this because I want to have a family with you too. But I’m guessing you want to talk about a timeline.”

Vi nods, momentarily speechless because you always just get her, even without her having to say anything. She pulls you away from the stove to sit you on one of the kitchen island’s stools. She notes how you eye the pasta and makes a mental note to attend to the pot after five minutes.

“We always did say that we’d really start considering it once we’ve gotten our lives sorted,” Vi says, standing between your thighs. “And I’d say that our lives are pretty solid. We’re no longer in debt and we’ve got a decent amount saved away.” Her fingers play with your hair, causing you to lean into her touch. “So I thought that now would be a good time to try.” Vi then shakes her head. “Obviously, it’s your choice because it’s your body and I’d never want to pressure you into doing anything because of me and—”

Vi doesn’t notice she’s rambling until you’re pressing your finger against her lips, fond amusement colouring your features.

“I married a good woman,” you say, so tender that Vi feels her heart swell so much that it hurts. It presses against her ribs, pushes up on her lungs making her breathless. It makes her cling to you, hiding her head into the curve of your shoulder. Your hands come around to run soothingly down her back and she melts. “I know it's my choice, baby. You've never made me feel like it wasn't.”

Despite Vi knowing that, the relief that hits her is cool and instant. It's always nice to hear that she isn't pressuring you; that she's allowing you to make your own choices regardless of what she wants.

“I've always wanted to have children with you,” you continue, still running soothing patterns down her back. “That's something that has never changed and probably never will.” You then lean back and Vi's graced with the excitement in your beautiful eyes. “I imagine a little kid who's a mixture of me and you. Maybe my hair and your eyes or vice versa.”

“I hope they get your personality,” Vi says softly. “That they get your kindness and empathy. Your patience and wisdom.”

You laugh quietly, closing your eyes to hide from the blinding of Vi's earnest gaze. You're embarrassed, she can tell, and that makes this moment all the sweeter.

“Well, I hope they get your strength and conviction,” you reply, tilting your head up so the tip of your nose catches the softness of Vi's cheek. “That they get your loyalty and ambition. Your sympathy and empathy.”

Vi's cheeks burn at the compliments you dress her in. Compliments that you would call truths because that's how you see her. Even under all the mess and mistakes, you see the diamonds that rest beneath the dirt.

She'll never understand why someone as special as you forever wants to be with her.

“So…what are you thinking?” Vi asks, eager to see where your head’s at. She watches as you purse your lips with a hum, eyes rolling upwards to stare at the ceiling in thought. Then you’re looking back at her with a smile and that’s how Vi finds her answer.

“Really?” Vi has to double check, to be sure that you’re both on the same page; that this is what you want to do from this moment.

“I’ve been wanting to suggest it for a while but—Violet!” You exclaim out of surprise, laughter startled from you when Vi pulls you in for a tight hug. But your arms are wrapping around her instantly, holding on with a solid grip.

“Thank you,” Vi whispers into your neck, planting a delicate kiss over your pulse. “Thank you so much.”

“No need to thank me,” you say quietly, returning the kiss to the curve of her ear. “I want this too.”

Vi nods and gives you a firm squeeze before pulling away, but not too far so she can still keep you in her arms. She’s so overwhelmed; there’s so much she wants to say but all of it is tied at the back of her throat. The words aren’t coherent but they have meaning and Vi will try all she can to convey how precious that meaning is.

“Okay so,” you begin after you both sit in relaxed silence for a while. “I love you so much and you’re my everything but if that pasta’s mushy, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You lie,” Vi replies, nuzzling at your cheek. “You love me too much to hate me.”

“But I love pasta more,” you tease, your soft laughs muted by the gentle press of Vi’s lips against yours.

The pasta has gone soft but you don’t seem to mind, all too distracted by Vi's sweet kisses.

“So you’re officially trying for kids now?”” Jinx says one afternoon in the small cafe they often frequent. It's raining outside and there's a chill in the air that seeps into your bones and makes you want to stay in bed. That's where Vi wishes she was now, all curled up underneath the sheets with you.

“Yeah, we had a proper talk about it a few days ago,” Vi says. “Not that all the other talks weren't proper but our plans didn't have a start date.” She swirls the remaining dregs of coffee in her mug. “Now we're both ready and soon there's gonna be a kid in the picture.”

Jinx hums, taking a sip of whatever iced concoction she's gotten today. “I mean, it's a big thing,” she says around her straw. “Bringing a small human into the world. Plus babies are kinda gross with their uncontrollable bowel movements.” Her nose scrunches up. “Not to mention the crying and screaming and inability to talk for the first two years.”

Vi shrugs. “Yeah, but I don't give a shit about any of that.”

“Well, duh. Because you're with someone who's gonna make it worthwhile,” Jinx replies matter-of-factly. “It's kind of like being in love with the person of your dreams makes you more tolerable to things. Shocker.”

“You're already falling into your Cynical Aunt role.” Vi says, deadpan but smiles when Jinx chuckles.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm gonna love the shit out of that little goober,” Jinx says strongly. “Gonna be the best auntie in the world. Much better than Caitlyn or Mel, that's for sure.”

Vi makes a doubtful expression, an eyebrow raised, and raises her hands to placate when Jinx aims her butter knife at her.

“No, you'll be great,” Vi tells her and despite their jokes, she means it. She sees how Jinx is with kids; how she may not seem interested at first but then slowly opens up. Not to say that she connects with every child but when Jinx cares, she cares with her entire heart. So Vi knows that her children will be loved.

Jinx eyes her and takes another sip of her drink before saying, “There's something on your mind.”

Vi huffs. “How can you tell?”

“I'm your sister, we grew up together,” Jinx lists off. “I mean, ignore the fact that we didn't talk for seven years but I know you.” She finishes off her glass and pushes it to the side. “What's going on?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

Vi chuckles, running a hand through her hair, before leaning back in her seat.

“I just…worry that I may not be a good parent.” She confesses after a moment.

“Why?” Jinx asks straight away, not giving Vi the time to wallow too deeply.

“Because…I mean, look what happened with us,” Vi says, gesturing between them. “I left you alone for seven years over a misunderstanding that took ages to fix. I was supposed to be there for you when our parents died. When Vander died and I…” Vi stops for a second, a heavy knot in her throat. “...I wasn't there and I'm just scared that I'm gonna fuck all of this up.”

Jinx stares at her for a bit, her expression unreadable, before she gives a big eye roll.

“You're so stupid,” she says loudly.

“Gee thanks.” Vi replies.

“You're so stupid because I don't think you realise how good of a big sister you were,” Jinx continues. “How good of a big sister you are. Life sucked for us for a long time, Vi. Especially after our parents and Vander died. Then the hits kept on coming and we had no say in how we survived for a long time. Yes, we got separated and yes, it made me so fucking mad at you, but you came back for me.” She takes a deep breath. “If we could redo the past, we would. But we can't. But things have been fixed and you've shown me time and time how capable you are.” She then laughs. “I mean, you've been in a committed relationship for twelve years, Vi. Most people don't last up to the five month mark.”

Vi tries to ignore the sting behind her eyes, the tears that slowly blur her vision.

“Plus you guys are totally in love,” Jinx says, a slight smile curving her lips. “It's absolutely nauseating but it's also kinda beautiful. You'll make a really good parent, Vi. You got the best of mom and our dads. And your partner kicks ass and is one of the best people I've ever met so…” Jinx shrugs. “Your children are gonna be so lucky to have you two as parents.”

There’s then a lull that falls between them and Vi's trying so hard not to cry. So she swallows back the knot in her throat, chasing it away with her last bit of coffee.

“Saying all of that must have driven you nuts,” Vi jokes weakly, reaching out to give Jinx's hand a grateful squeeze.

“Yeah, I feel gross and need to take a shower,” Jinx jokes in return, weak too and she squeezes Vi's hand just as tight. “Consider that your birthday and Christmas gift.”

Vi laughs loudly, eyes crinkling and mouth wide with the joy she feels.

“Fair enough.” She concedes, knowing damn well Jinx will surprise her with a homemade gift regardless.

“...So, gonna go home and blast your baby batter into—?”

“Jinx.”

A week or two pass after those conversations are held. Life maintains its norm, leaving you and Vi to continue your existence in its blissful way. It's comforting as it is confusing, because Vi knows that everything’s on the table now. Left wide open for the both of you to bask at.

Vi waits for your move, watches you with a keen eye as you drift throughout the days. She cooks the both of you dinner every other night, picks you up from work every day without fail and holds you close at night so you fall asleep. She does what she knows to do, does it because it has that essence of normalcy.

But that doesn't stop the urges from arising. It doesn't halt the need that bubbles in her stomach every time she sees you. It's overpowering, overwhelmingly so, and Vi fails to understand it until one late evening.

You're curled up beneath Vi’s arm as a movie plays on the television. It's a standard comedy, nothing utterly hilarious but enough to pull a few chuckles from both of you. Vi has hit optimal relaxation, all loose and soft due to you being so close. She can smell the scent of your body wash, drops her face into your hair so she can inhale what lies there. Your shampoo and something so uniquely you.

Her focus has since shifted from the movie, all of it on you as she notes how you’re barely paying attention to the screen. You’ve got this faraway look in your eyes, seemingly lost in thought and Vi wonders what's going through that pretty head of yours.

Then you do something unexpected; you shift a hand towards your stomach and…gently rub at it. The arc of your hand graceful as you follow the slope of your covered flesh. It looks soothing, similar to how you rub Vi's muscles on the days the flare-up of old injuries is too much. But it's also different and Vi's quick to notice it; she sees how your hand comes to lay at your lower stomach and—

Oh.

Vi's suddenly feeling a bit flustered.

A minute goes by, slowly ticking, and Vi tries not to give herself away. She tries not to reveal how the simple act of you rubbing your stomach has her heating up. How she's instantly imagining your stomach round with her child and the way your hand would look caressing the bump.

So tender, so gentle.

Something hot within Vi stirs, causing her to grow a bit restless. The movie captures her attention for a bit, but it hardly does much. Especially when you're pressed into her, still rubbing at your stomach and fuck, her sweatpants feel a little tight.

Because it isn't only about your stomach growing with life inside you. It's also about the transformation you'll grow through. How you'll get softer, how your scent will become a little milkier. How your breasts will swell in preparation and how you'd be a stunning image of how you belong to.

Vi.

Because it's Vi who'll do that to you; it's her who will fuck you full until you can't take anymore. It's Vi who will come and come and come in you until it takes and she sees the fruits of her labour.

It's her who'll…who'll breed you until you’re tongue's tied and your body's a wreck.

So beautiful and pilant and hers.

“...Vi?” Your voice calls her home, like a siren's song, and she's retrieved from her debauched thoughts. “Vi, sweetheart, the movie's done.”

Vi blinks at the television, the credits rolling down the dark screen. How long had she been spacing out for.

“Oh,” she says lamely and you chuckle, standing up from the couch. You tug at her arm, smiling tiredly, as you tilt your body towards the bedroom.

“I'm sleepy,” you say, giving one more tug before Vi’s standing on her feet. “Let's go to bed, we've got work in the morning.”

“Uh huh,” is all Vi can manage as she allows you to lead her to your bedroom.

Something new has clicked in her brain.

Something deep and primal at its core.

...She cannot talk to Jinx about this.

[yurinaa-world]

OKAY GALLAGHER MR RECA AND MOZE REACTING TO US CALLING HIM HUSBAND TO TEASE HIM IN PUBLIC HEHEHEHE

"𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 '𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭' 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮—𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻��𝔃𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷’𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰."

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Gallager, Mr. Reca, & Moze x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: calling him husband in public to tease him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: Great minds think alike 😏

💫𝒢𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇 "��𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

You always had the habit of showing up at the near end of his shift so you could walk back home with him. Which made every second and minute very painful while you sat there and teased him a little about how obviously he wanted to get this last over with. And of course, you're enjoying it since you get free drinks from the bartender as a benefit of being with him.

“At least make it look like you want to be here, or else you make customers run away.” You gently tease while stirring the straw of your drink, resulting in small bubbles and fizz sounds coming out. He groans at those teasing words.

“Not when you're the prize I get at the end.” He says softly while mixing a drink for his custom all while eyeing your pretty face from the corner of his eye. “Wow, does my husband not know better? Talk about that and you lose customers and business. Even a novice knows that.”

“You think I won't catch up on that.”

Pouring the colourful drink into a glass before passing it to the person who ordered it. He quickly switches, landing his, arms on the table as he leans till your face is inches away from his.

“Your ‘husband’, you really think I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Really? So sensitive over a word, you should use that time to help your customers,” 

Against that teasing tone, you used as you took two fingers and pressed them against his forehead to push him back. 

“Careful you might just go broke.”

💫𝑅𝑒𝒸𝒶 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐹𝒾𝓁𝓂 𝒟𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝐼𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝑜𝓈𝓂𝑜𝓈"

“You should really calm down. No need to stress so much.” you gently reminded him, even going as far as to land your hands on his shoulders and gently massaging them. The tension in his shoulders didn’t ease immediately, but he didn’t shrug you off. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, leaning into your touch ever so slightly.

“You’ve got blessed hands, you know that?” he said, his voice warm despite the stress underlying his words. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been practicing just for me.”

You smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Maybe I have. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t completely fall apart, my dear husband.” you gently tease him, not trying to mean at all, only lighting his mood.

He completely freezes at your words.

.

 he noticed it

.

You just called him.

.

“Maybe I have. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t completely fall apart, my dear husband.”

.

“My dear husband”

He's your dear husband! Which leads to him hiding himself in your neck while gushing about marvellous and cute you. (you really know how to bring his mood).

“Ah, my darling!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled but brimming with excitement. “How can you just say something so perfect, so utterly delightful, and act like it’s nothing?”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he continued his dramatic display, his breath warm against your skin. “I-I didn’t mean anything special by it,” you stammered, though your flustered tone betrayed you.

“Oh, but it’s too late now,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you, his face lit up with a bright grin. “You’ve called me your dear husband, and now I’m yours forever! No take-backs!”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

“You should stay away from him.” 

You didn’t expect those words from Moze. Is he jealous or something? Jealous? Moze of all people, is jealous of a guy who just talked to you…No way you’re not going to tease him out of his mind. It’s just so funny!

“Are you jealous?”

He just groans and stares back at your grinning face, it's so obvious, no matter how he wants to keep that poker face on. Moze crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Despite his best effort to maintain his stoic demeanour, the faint twitch of his lips betrayed him.

 “I’m not jealous,” he muttered, his tone cool but laced with irritation. “I just think you should be more careful about who you trust.” You couldn’t help but giggle, stepping closer to him with a playful gleam in your eyes. “Oh really? Because it kinda sounds like you’re jealous to me,”

“But it’s fine, I wouldn’t pick anyone aside from my husband.”

Moze froze, his arms uncrossing as he straightened up. His usually sharp expression faltered for a split second before he schooled his face into something resembling his usual calm. Only the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“...Husband?” he echoed, his voice lower than usual, as if testing the word out in disbelief.

You couldn’t suppress your laughter, stepping even closer with a grin that only widened at his reaction. “That’s right, my dear husband. Who else would I pick?” you grin, leaning into him.

“You really like pushing your luck, don’t you?”

“I do, what are you doing to do about it?”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[dansroo]

Are we not supposed to be already married?

based on this request.

content; Jayce Talis x male!reader. modern!au. husband!Jayce. fluff. silly and cloying romance. established relationship. married couple. suggestive!, teasing. just lots of love and kisses. 🙂‍↕️

word count; 1.3K (I promise that this time I wrote the correct number)

a/n; I had to republish it because, for some strange reason, it didn't appear in the tags. 👀 english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error !

thank you for requesting! 🤍

You looked at your notes with great satisfaction. You had been working for the last few days on the development and design of a better processor; your beta design had been a complete success, so you decided to exploit your skills and improve yourself even more. Likewise, you knew you had the potential to achieve something much better, and you weren't going to waste an opportunity like that.

The little blue stone moved between your fingers as you observed it carefully. It had been a significant challenge to get Hextech and programming to complement each other without causing an explosive disaster, but it was something you strangely enjoyed, especially the reactions that magic had when coming in contact with computational systems.

Although it was very different for Jayce, who had to take care that you didn't end up losing an important limb.

The sudden touch of hands on your shoulders pulled you out of your bubble. “Can we go home now?” you chuckled, feeling his hands slide down your arms and then get tangled around your waist. “Please?” he whispered in your ear, causing a couple of tickles.

“Just finishing this, then we'll go home and see about dinner.”

You took a worn chalk, started to correct and write new equations on the blackboard in front of you, while you kept fidgeting with the small stone in your other hand.

You glanced sideways at Jayce's hand as it rose to gently take you by the wrist.

“Where is your ring?!” He asked with indignation, observing the absence of it on your finger.

You rolled your eyes, smiling with amusement “It's on my desk, I couldn't risk something happening to it while I work, right?”

“Or maybe you don't love me anymore and you want the divorce” you heard him say in an exaggeratedly sad tone, hiding his face in the gap between your shoulder and neck. “Geez, don't be so dramatic.” you said, laughing, listening to his laughter being muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

His arms didn't move from their place, still hugging you from behind. Eyes following the path that your hand was tracing on the blackboard and a smile on his face every time he heard you whisper unconsciously. He loved watching you work.

There was so much calm and silence that, for a moment, you had forgotten he was still there until you felt him place a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled, feeling his hands letting go of your waist.

“So, did you manage to convince Viktor to go home early?”

You heard his footsteps, and judging by the sound of a chair's legs being dragged on the floor, you deduced that he had sat at your desk. He took the time to explore your workplace, admiring a beautiful framed photograph resting on it. Jayce never missed an opportunity to look at that frame whenever he could.

It was of you and him, at the beginning of all this dream of his—both were so stupid to notice the love you had for each other. It was as if his heart beat again the same way it did the day he dared to kiss you—a clumsy but sweet kiss.

Your engagement ring was placed right in front.

“Oh, yeah… we should invite him to dinner with us one day, what do you think?”

You placed the chalk at the bottom of the blackboard, giving it one last look before you turned in his direction. “I think it's a great idea.” you smiled as you walked towards him, sliding your hands into your pockets. Once you were there you sat on the edge of the wooden desk—not without first storing the little blue stone in the metal box—, with Jayce next to you sitting in your chair. You yawned, listening to the sound of the light drizzle outside; turned your head to look at the window, where you began to see the small drops accumulate on the glass—tarnishing it almost completely.

You feel his fingers wrap around your arm, forcing you to take you hand out of you pocket. A giggle escapes from your lips as you watch him holding your ring.

“Would you marry me?”

“Are we not supposed to be already married?”

“It doesn't matter, let's get married twice.”

“I told you that we should have brought the umbrellas, Talis”

You sighed as you took off your soaked shoes, leaving them at the entrance. At first, it was a harmless drizzle; then it turned into a complete furious storm that ended up soaking both of you—as you had predicted this morning.

You removed the hair from your face, which was starting to stick in your skin thanks to how wet it was. “I know, I'm sorry, I didn't think it would rain this way” you heard him say between nervous giggles. “Didn't it bring you memories?” he asked you, with a silly and contagious smile. You sighed again, approaching to him.

“Let me think, like the time you fell on your face and—”

“Oh please, no, we've already talked about that.”

You laughed heartily; you knew which other memory he was referring to. But for God's sake, falling while you trying to calm your angry partner in the rain it's not something that you can forget so easily.

But not everything had gone so wrong that day, he had achieved his task after all.

“What am I going to do with you?” you asked, gently removing a small leaf that had gotten tangled in his hair. “I think the real question is, what haven't you already done to me?”

You shook your head slightly, laughing as you ran a hand over your face “My god, shut up.” you murmured embarrassedly as you hit his arm, making him laugh.

“I think I should consider the divorce.”

“Hey!, don't joke about that!”

Your laughter echoed down the hall, as you headed to your shared room. Jayce didn't stay behind, following you some time later.

The rules were simple, the one who lost made the dinner.

Both were curled up on the bed, with a large blanket covering your shoulders, wearing dry and warm clothes. After taking a hot shower, you both had started arguing about who would cook today's dinner; you decided that the only way to know was to leave it to the loser.

Your score was the highest, just for a couple of points. You mocked in silence, listening to his complaints.

“You're making fun of me?”

“Of course not—” you were about to make the final move to win when you felt him kiss your cheek, cradling your face with his hands to turn you completely toward him. “What the hell are you doing?” you said, laughing, as he kissed your whole face.

“I can't kiss my husband's pretty face anymore?” he replied, kissing the corner of your lips and then kissing you properly. Your body fell onto the bed—the control slipping from your hands in the process. The path of his kisses returned once more across your cheeks, gliding down to your jaw and finally reaching your neck. Initially, just were clumsy kisses, tickling you; then they became hungrier, wetter.

You clung to his arm, letting out a soft gasp as your eyes closed— just what he wanted. You were so focused that maybe you wouldn't notice that none of his hands were touching you, as usual.

“GAME OVER.”

You opened your eyes abruptly, feeling him smile against your skin. “What the-” you pushed him away, taking him off you—listened to his chuckle.

“Jayce Talis, you're a damn cheater.” you pointed your finger at him, laughing, after you stopped looking at the screen in front of the bed to turn and see him.

“Don't say you didn't like it.” he whispered, hugging you from behind to lie you down again on the bed, where you two were curled up all day.

Well, until you had to get up to cook.

© dansroo.2024.

[flemingology]

midnight confessions ─ leah williamson x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: new year's eve makes the perfect opportunity to make things official with leah

warnings: none

wc: 1.2k

a/n: kinda wanna apologize for how short this is, but i've fed you accordingly this month so i don't owe you anything x also really liked how this ended!

You'd been seeing Leah for the best part of five weeks. You'd been on coffee dates, dinner dates, you've even been to her apartment to watch a movie. You weren't exclusive, yet, but neither of you weren't seeing other people. You just hadn't made it official yet. Or kissed. Or, you know, any of those things. But you were getting there.

You'd been sharing sharing a couple lingering looks and touches throughout the night. Every time one of you tried to get the other out of the commotion for a couple minutes, just for a little catch-up, it seemed like someone else wanted their attention. You were having fun, really, Leah's New Year's Eve party was well organized and you were enjoying yourself, but you'd been missing her tonight. Missing her presence, missing her laugh and her voice, missing her.

"When are you gonna kiss her?" A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts, glancing to the side and seeing Steph lean against the kitchen counter. "Hmm?" You acted like you didn't hear her, giving yourself a bit more breathing space to come up with an appropriate answer. "I can see the way you're looking at her, darling. Your eyes haven't left her all night." You sighed and turned towards her. "That obvious?" The Australian chuckled and swung her arm over your shoulders. "Why hasn't it happened yet?"

You wrecked your brain, searching for a legitimate, good reason why you and Leah hadn't kissed yet. But you couldn't find one. In reality, you didn't know either, and it was safe to say that you were slowly starting to feel a little apprehensive about it. There hadn't been many opportunities, but there had been enough for at least one kiss to have taken place. But no. Nothing.

"I don't know, Steph," you said, stretching the syllables of the words you were speaking. "Well, just for what it's worth, she's not been keeping her eyes off you either. In fact, she's watching us right now." Your eyes scanned the room for Leah, and a small smile crept upon her lips as you caught her gaze. You couldn't help the slight blush that adorned your cheeks. "You're whipped. And she is too. Trust me, she wants it as bad as you do. You have a great opportunity tonight. You best take it." Steph said, pressing a kiss against your cheek before leaving you to your own in the kitchen, going to mingle with some of your other Arsenal teammates.

"You having a good time?" You hadn't paid attention to Leah as you finished up talking to Steph, so you shot up surprisedly as her voice cut through the kitchen. You turned around and tried to compose yourself, trying your best not to look at the sliver of skin that was showing underneath her cropped shirt. "Yeah, I'm having loads of fun. Thanks, Le. Thanks for the invite." Leah leant her elbow on the kitchen island, taking a sip from her drink. You shouldn't find it so attractive. "Anytime. Want me to make you another drink?" You nodded, not trusting your voice not to waver if you spoke right now.

Leah mixed a whole load of stuff, not knowing much more about what she poured other than that it wasn't good for you. "Here," she began. "I don't know how good it'll be, but I tried my best to make something sweet, the way you like it." You smiled appreciatively at Leah and held out your hand, but she pulled the cup back slightly. You cocked your eyebrow at her. "Am I not getting anything in return for making you a drink?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but leant in nonetheless and pressed a sweet kiss against her cheek, resting your hand on her forearm for a couple seconds. "Good?" You questioned, getting lost in the smile that crept up her face.

"Perfect. Enjoy it, pretty girl. Have fun tonight. And don't get too drunk." "I wouldn't dare, Williamson."

It wasn't until much later that you found yourself face to face with Leah again. You both got caught up in your own conversations, Leah talking to Alex and her girlfriend Jess, you relentlessly winning game after game of beer pong with Alessia. You tried to keep your own alcohol intake under control, ushering Alessia or other bystanders to drink up the cups that you had to drink when someone hit a shot.

As you weaved your way through the crowd of people, on your way outdoors for a breather after your third game of beer pong in a row, you bumped into her. "Hey, where you going?" Leah grabbed your arm and looked at you with a concerned frown. "Oh, I'm just going outside for a minute, Le, don't worry." You smiled up at her, expecting her to drop your arm and make her way further towards where she was initially going, but instead she turned on her heels and led you outside with her. "You feeling okay?" she questioned as you were outside. "Yeah, I'm okay, honestly, I just needed a breather after the beer pong." A toothy grin crept onto Leah's face as you walked your way over to the railing of the balcony. "Yeah, I heard. Sounded like you guys were having fun." You felt your cheeks warming slightly, grateful for the flush that was already there due to the alcohol. She joined you, leaning her body against the railing and letting her eyes glide appreciatively over your figure.

You weren’t in the slightest aware of what time it was, the alcohol coursing through your body taking your awareness with it, but then you could hear the countdown starting inside, and where some would call it fate, you called it luck. Because if there was anyone you wanted to be outside on a balcony with, with the prospect of a New Year's kiss around the corner, it was her. This is probably that opportunity that Steph was speaking about earlier. You were ready to take it with both hands, Leah seemingly thinking the same thing. Ten.

She took a step forward, cupping your cheeks with her hands and locking her eyes with yours. The air was cold, your breath forming small puffs of air in the night sky, but Leah's touch was sending a feeling through you that made you forget about the near freezing temperatures outside. Nine.

You took a deep breath, composing yourself as you brave another look at her, her eyes twinkling with something that you couldn't quite put your finger on. But you were determined to find out what it was. Eight.

"I've really enjoyed these past couple weeks with you." Seven.

"This is gonna sound cliche, but I really don't want to end this year without telling you" Six.

"I really, really like you," she breathed. Five.

"Well, you're in luck, Williamson." Four.

"Because I really, really like you too." Three.

Leah's smile grew impossibly wider, her face brightening up as you spoke. Two.

"Is it okay if I kiss you then?" One.

"Please do." Happy fucking New Year.

[staranghae]

the perfect way to spend christmas

summary. jihoon really wants his first christmas with you to be perfect

pairing. loverboy! l.jh x fem! reader genre. new relationship, fluff, crack warnings. seokmin being seokmin, jihoon threatens them but its lighthearted(?) wc. 786 a/n. my first work on here after a while for @k-films advent calender event. also, my first (and possibly only) work where profanity isn't a warning lmao. anygays, enjoy down bad loverboy jihoon <3 mwah mwah merry christmas and happy new years. p.s: check out the masterlist for the event here!

the last thing soonyoung expects to see when he enters his shared apartment with jihoon are christmas decorations.

jihoon putting up a plant smack dab in the middle of the kitchen, to be exact.

"when i told you to decorate for the party, i didn't expect you to go all out like this!", soonyoung exclaims, while placing the bags of food and alcohol on the counter.

"well, this is my first christmas after getting with y/n so it's only appropriate i go all out, especially since we're hosting."

jihoon replies, almost shyly, as he continues taping the mystery plant to the ceiling.

soonyoung merely laughs at his friend. in all honesty, he was somewhat of a cupid in getting the two of you to go out with each other, owing to his balbbermouth tendencies when drunk, exposing jihoon's long term crush on you.

"well. make sure you don't end up putting any mistletoes in there lest seokmin tries to make out with you."

"again." soonyoung adds after a beat.

jihoon's face scrunches up at the thought. they really did not need a repeat of the great disaster '22. he's about to retort when the doorbell rings, signalling the first guest had arrived.

soonyoung gets the door as jihoon cleans up in the kitchen. he can tell by the chaos happening in the doorway that seokmin and seungkwan were the first two to arrive.

he finishes up and goes to greet them. seokmin immediately tackles him into a hug which he reciprocates while the other two tease him about how he broke seokmin's heart by going out with you.

amidst the teasing, the doorbell rings a second time and jihoon finds himself hoping that's it's you behind the door.

the door opens to reveal mingyu and minghao and jihoon is almost disappointed when he catches sight of you behind mingyu's broad frame.

he doesn't even stop to consider the consequences when he shoves walks past mingyu to, quite literally, engulf you in a hug. he only registers what he's done when he hears the hooting and cheering of the members behind him and sees the shell shocked face of seungcheol who had walked up right behind you and mingyu.

he retreats from the hug, embarassed. meanwhile, you were left with a lingering warmth that had gone as fast as it had come.

"well, at least someone exists here who can make the lee jihoon himself lose control." jokes seungcheol as he enters the apartment.

"we'll give you guys some privacy for now," says minghao, leaving you the two of you in the doorway, red faced and flustered.

jihoon breaks the ice first,

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have-"

"it's fine, hoon. really. it was actually kinda cute."

"of all the things you could've called me, cute?!" jihoon feigns offense. you giggle at his antics and jihoon swears he could die right now. he notices the bag in your hands and gives you a questioning look.

"cupcakes, for the party." you clarify.

jihoon thanks every being in the universe for giving him the oppurtunity to say what he did,

"let's go to the kitchen and open them, they smell delicious."

you nod excitedly and walk towards the kitchen as jihoon follows.

unbeknownst to you, he silently threatens to do unspeakable things to his friends if they so much so as looked at the two of you while you were in the kitchen

you hum to yourself as you start to open the box of cupcakes when jihoon walks up behind you. you're about to tease him about being oh so obsessed with you when he utters a single word while pointing upwards

"mistletoe"

you look up at the ceiling and sure enough, a dainty little mistletoe is taped to the surface, albeit a little haphazardly. you look back at jihoon. your eyes flit between the mistletoe and jihoon's face.

jihoon can see the gears turning in your head about the possibilities of one of his idiot friends walking in.

"relax, none of them are coming anywhere near us, i assure you."

the tone he uses leaves no room for any buts or what ifs. so you don't ask any and instead opt to kiss him as hard as you can.

he stumbles back a little because of the impact but gains his footing fast enough to wrap his arms around your waist to kiss you back with the same fervor, if not harder.

the two of you end up so lost in each other, you don't even hear the other three holding seokmin down as he yells "me next".

'what a perfect way to spend his first christmas with the woman of his dreams' is last coherent thought that flashes through jihoon's mind before he loses himself in you again.

[thelaundrybitch]

Bangin'

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TURTLE DOVES!!!!

Have a little ditty I scraped together for shits and giggles.

Love yas! 🫶🏼🫵🏼💖

I'm gonna go ahead and deem this an 18+ story.

🔥A Dirty Laundry Fic🔥

And as always, my ninja turts are aged up to 30+ years. Don't be weird.

Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though🤩

Bangin'

You’ve had the hots for Leo for as long as you’ve known the turts. Don knows your dirty little secret because he’s your BFF, and you tell him everything. You’ve made it quite clear to him that if you are ever caught with Leo alone, to come save you. You don’t want to say anything stupid and ruin friendships or lair visiting privileges by confessing your undying love for the eldest turt. So, you do your best to keep your distance because you fear your mouth will commit mutiny, always keeping your interactions with the blue bara fairly short and always ensuring one of his brothers is in the same room in case you need an emergency evacuation.

Leo, however, keeps trying to herd you away from his brothers or catch you alone so he can use that irresistible charm of his, to win your heart. He’s had a big fat crush on you for just as long and has actively been trying to get some alone time with you.

But it’s always thwarted. Whenever he thinks he’s got the upper hand, Donnie appears and whisks you away to the lab to help him with something. Eventually, he gives up, thinking that you and Don have something going on, and tries to occupy his time with additional training, meditating, or reading whenever you come to visit.

This certainly gets your attention.

Effectively crushing your blue-terrapin-loving heart.

A few months go by as you try to tell yourself that his lack of attention and interaction is for the best, and you almost have yourself to that ‘ok’ point.

Until…

The dreams start

Hot, horny, and hella realistic. You dream about honor boy pinning you to every surface of the lair. You swear you can almost feel his mouth on your skin. You can even smell that bergamotty goodness that is Leonardo, right as you’re waking up. 

Sometimes, the dreams are so realistic you have to walk around your apartment to make sure he’s not actually there.

It’s at this point you decide you need to avoid him altogether. Otherwise, you’re going to end up mauling him and begging him to make your dreams come true.

Leo, on the other hand, has been in absolute agony. And still IS in agony. He can’t get you out of his head no matter what he does. Your scent always seems to linger in the air for days after you’ve visited, no matter what room he walks into. Your voice echoes in his mind as he reads, that sweet laughter clouding his focus, rendering his imaginary escape impossible. 

Pretty sounds slipping from your pretty lips, with your small form fitting perfectly under his much bigger one, taking him so well every time he closes his eyes. Both asleep and awake.

It’s fucking torture.

Then it happens.

You walk into Don’s lab one day on a rampage. You’re tired. You’re sexually frustrated. And it’s all Leonardo’s fault.

Now, Don already knows about these dreams - because, of course, you told him. So, the moment you slam his lab door open, he puts down what he’s working on and gives you his undivided attention as you start spewing about your latest dreamland tryst. 

As you're talking very animatedly with Don about said adult activities you are going into great detail about positions, and kinks, and all kinds of risque dialogue.

Little do you know that Leonardo is present. He is over behind the lab table, squatting down and looking for a book that Don recommended on focusing through distractions.

He’s getting ready to stand up and leave when he hears your upset voice but freezes the moment you start talking about your latest dream. Because all of a sudden, out from your perfect, pretty little mouth comes all these words. Talking about all these physically untried ✨positions✨ accompanied by some over-exaggerated, very real-sounding… noises.

And he just—

Flatlines.

Zero brain activity.

He stands up so fucking fast that he slams his head on the shelf; the shelf dislodges and catapults the contents ALL over the place.

And he is mortified.

You're mortified.

Because you were absolutely reenacting some of said positions with a stool from the lab table.

And the way he's looking at you?

He's gotta fucking know.

But he doesn't.

And that secret crush he's had on you for years is about to be blown.

Holding your breath, you carefully stand the stool back to an upright position, giving Don the hairy eyeball before looking back at Leo for his response. 

Good God, you’re gorgeous.

His eyes are glued to you, and he’s watching every little move you make. Leo hasn’t seen you this close in months.  

Sure, he’s seen you from afar and in every dream, but being less than twenty feet from you is doing unmentionable things to him.

The way your v-neck tee is hugging all your curves in all the right places has his head spinning. You look good enough to eat.

He’s not sure what comes over him (quite possibly the oncoming concussion), but his legs move on their own accord and bring him around the lab table to where you’re standing with your face hotter than lava and wishing the Earth would open up and swallow you whole.

He stands almost on top of you, looking down into those enchanting eyes of yours, his own baby blues flicking back and forth from your eyes to your lips and back again.

He’s as silent as the calm before a storm, with waves of intensity rolling off of him like a tsunami and threatening the existence of your panties.

It’s too much. The looming. His intimidating presence. You know he knows, and you need to explain yourself before he hurls your ass out of the lair for good.

Stuttering out his name, you tell him you can explain and proceed to put your foot directly in your mouth as the verbal vomit gives away your position. They’re just dreams! You can’t help what your brain thinks about while you’re asleep! As a matter of fact, it’s his fault! Yeah! You can’t help that he’s the one-

“Me?” If Leonardo had eyebrows, they would’ve flown clean off his face. “I’m in these dreams?”

Eyes rivaling the size of Jupiter you glance at Don, who has nearly bitten off his tongue trying not to laugh, and just shrugs at you. Swallowing hard, you look back at Leo, whose irises are barely visible with how big his pupils are blown.

Trembling, you swallow hard and nod slowly. 

Without a second thought, he squats down, scoops you up like a princess, and growls out, “You need to come with me.”

“Wha- why?!” you panic, your hands moving around his neck to steady yourself in his arms.

He brings you in closer to his face, and in a husky voice, he tells you, "Because we need to go somewhere with thick walls… Those delicious noises and screams? They're all mine. No one else gets to hear those."

And that's the story of how you became part of Leonardo's mattress.

Enjoying my work? Find my Master list HERE

*If you aren’t on this list, please let me know if you want me to tag you in my other work or if you prefer me to not tag you 😘

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[thewayitalknj]

Since a few of you kindly asked for a Part 2, here you go! Thanks for the love!

Warnings - reader feels a bit insecure for a split second! Word Count - 2.6k

Part 1 | Part 2

You stare at him, cold blooded. So he did figure it out? You shut the door behind you and reach for the silk robe hanging on the back of the door. 

“Aw come on don’t cover up because it’s me-”

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

He makes a silly dance move, trying to be funny but definitely not helping. “What do you mean? I came for a private dance.” 

You finish tying a bow and cross your arms. “How did you know I work here?”

He gets up and walks towards you. He moves your robe off to the side and points to your birthmark. “This. I noticed it while you were dancing.”

You sigh and look back up at him. He stifles a laugh, “Ed, this isn’t funny.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a fucking dancer?”

“Oh yeah, because that’s a great conversation starter-” You notice him looking you up and down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m hot or…some shit.”

“Well, I mean-”

“Look, I get off at midnight. We can go back to my place to chat afterwards if you want. But for now, you can hang in the dressing room. We won’t be back there until we close up anyway.” You open up the door and motion for Eddie to leave.

“...does this mean I don’t get a private dance?” You give him a stern look this time, “yes ma’am.”

As you enter your front door Eddie goes and takes a seat on your couch as you head to your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. When you take a seat next to him just a few minutes later you explain everything to him.

You have been working at the strip club for over a year now. As much as you loved working at Family Video it just wasn’t paying enough. Bianca was a regular at FV with her family, and you grew a work-type friendship with her. One day she came in by herself and asked if you wanted to come to a charity event they were holding at the club. She immediately made it clear how odd it sounded about having a charity event at a strip club but assured you it was always a hit ; how the money went towards good causes in the city and the toy drives were always overflowing. You wanted to show your support so you went and had a fun time. Bianca introduced you to everyone, from her boss to her coworkers to regulars. It was a strange family-oriented work environment you never imagined. When Pam, the owner and boss, asked if you were interested at all in working for them you turned it down. But when bills started piling up and the holidays were around the corner you thought earning some extra cash would be helpful. So you went back, and was hired right from your interview. 

Pam explained how the club was run by women for women only. Everyone took you through training, first just as a waitress. You learned tips and tricks, and also had to come up with a fake name for security and privacy.

“Wait, so what’s your ‘fake name’?” Eddie asks using quotation marks.

“Lilith.”

“Why Lilith?” 

“It means ‘belonging to the night’. It’s also associated with meanings like ‘demon’ or ‘spirit.’”

“Well that’s badass. How did you come up with that?”

Look down at your lap. “Um, in one of your D&D books. The one you gave me about character building.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah…so anyway. I didn’t even think about dancing but Bianca asked me one day if I wanted to try it, so I did. Everyone thought I did a good job…I was on the next night and it just took off from there.”

“Why haven't you told anyone?”

“Because when Bianca asked me to come to the charity event I didn’t really know what to think about her being a stripper. I didn’t want to judge her, and I didn’t want people or colleagues to judge me. I really enjoy it. I have this new built confidence when I walk through those doors. We all really care for one another and root each other on.”

Eddie shifts himself closer to you. “What do you mean ‘new built confidence’?”

“Let me answer this with a question for you. How do you feel when you’re DM’ing at Hellfire?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, like I’m taking charge. Assertive. I know what I’m doing and I like how I make people feel afterwards.”

You reach and put your hand on his leg. “That’s exactly how I feel when I’m dancing.” You smile, shake your head, laugh to yourself.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just hilarious that we both feel the same way about two completely different scenarios.”

“Hm, true.”

“Can I ask you a question though?”

“Sure, anything.”

“...What did you think…about the dance…on your birthday?” You gulp.

“Psh, don’t you remember the way I was talking about you when I came here the next morning?” You nod. “Everything I said was true. I couldn’t get you out of my head. And then when I figured out it was you I just…had to tell you I knew. Couldn’t live with that secret, it would have driven me nuts.”

“How did you ask for me anyway? You didn’t even know my name.”

“I asked for the devil from the night before. The women who led me to the private room recognized me from when I was called up for the dance.”

You pondered, “Was she dressed in all silver?”

“...yes?”

“That’s Jade. She gave me a bit of a pep-talk, I almost asked her to go out instead of me.” 

Eddie looks at you muddled, “why didn’t you want to dance for me?”

“Because you're Eddie, you’re one of my closest friends and it just felt…I don't know, awkward.”

“Well, if I’m being honest your friend is very beautiful but,” he takes your chin and lines you up with his eyes, “I’m glad it was you.”

You smile, “I’m glad it was me too.” 

You stare at him for a bit, melting into his touch and his eyes ; and when your lips touch just seconds later without even realizing how close you were, you feel like you died and went to heaven. It was when his tongue slipped its way into your mouth that that confidence you talked about earlier started to kick in. You kick yourself up and straddle his lap, bringing your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself but never breaking the kiss. His hands find your hips, rings digging deep into your shirt, bringing them along to the slow steady pace as he starts with his own hips grinding up. You follow his rhythm and hum, starting to feel way too good.

And even though that confidence was built up for a few moments, your insecurities came rushing through. You part and separate yourself too quickly and mumble “no” ; Eddie looks upset as you stand up. “What’s wrong? Did I take it too far, I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s not you it’s just..me. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You stutter, tears beginning to paint your cheeks. “It’s just-you never did any of this before. And-now you find out I strip and we’re suddenly making out on my couch. I feel like I’m in some stupid rom com where I took off my glasses and suddenly you see me differently.”

“Hun, I can promise you it’s nothing like that.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude Eddie but I think you should go.”

“But-”

“I just need space, if that makes sense? Can I call you tomorrow or sometime later this week?”

“Yeah of course, whatever you need. I know this is a lot for you.”

“Yeah-yeah it is.” 

He walks over and kisses you on the top of your forehead before leaving. 

“And that’s basically what happened.” You swirl around in an office chair, disappointed in yourself. You were a mess, you spent the whole next morning thinking about Eddie and what happened. Today is even your day off, but you felt like you needed company so you made your way to the club for some hopeful reassurance you weren't taking this too far or overthinking.

“I think it’s sweet he’s giving you space, he understands your concerns and he’s respecting it. You don’t see that a lot nowaday..” Your other co-worker and current security cam watcher Leah has been listening to your rants all day. She just came back from maternity leave but wasn’t ready to dance, so her shifts have been bartending and security watch, mainly the private rooms from the cameras. When you arrived at the club no private dances were happening, so Leah took you to the security room for privacy. “I’m kinda glad you came though, I want to show you something from the night he was here.” She holds up a VHS tape and puts it in the VCR. You watch with bated breath as Eddie shows up on screen.

“What does-”

She puts her hand up, “Just listen.” You watch the footage, as Eddie paces the private room waiting for you to arrive. 

“Hey so, I’ve kind of liked you since high school and…no I can’t start with that.”

>>FF>>

“Finding out about dancing? That is just a perk that will come in the soon to be hopeful relationship…no that doesn’t sound right. Steve is a fucking idiot for coming up with that line.” 

>>FF>>

“So…wanna go out on a date? Bowling, dinner? …What am I, 14?”

>>FF>>

“Alright Munson, you got this. Just tell her you figured it out and that this doesn’t change how you feel.” Then he plops down on the couch and lays back just as you found him.

Leah stops the tape and looks back to you.

“He…likes me?”

“Guess he does. So much for your negative thoughts huh?”

“I can’t believe this. He’s never shown any signs of…anything.”

“Pft, guys are weird. It took my husband years to ask me out on a first date but I waited! Here we are three years later with a new house and baby. It was all worth the wait, and I’m sure this will be for you too.”

“But how can I make this right? I feel like I screwed it all bigtime.”

“Why don’t you invite him to our charity event in a few weeks? It’s how your story started. Maybe it’ll be a new chapter for him too. Show him instead of talking to him to make things right.”

You smile wide, “...Has anyone told you you’re a genius?”

“And I thought Mom-Brain was getting to me already. But I’ll take the compliment.” You give Leah a hug and head out to make a very important phone call.

Eddie (of course) agreed to attend the charity event, and even offered to pay full price instead of the family and friends discount. You went in a few hours earlier to help set everything up while Eddie arrived when the event began. You introduced him to your co-workers ; some already knew about what happened but for your sake played it off like they knew nothing, which you greatly appreciated. Eddie took a seat at the bar, wishing you luck for your performance later which he was secretly looking forward to. Just before heading to the dressing room you stop by the DJ booth.

“Hey Cassie, here’s my tape for my dance. It’s Track 8, and I go on at 11.”

“Got it. Thanks love!” She looks at the cassette and ponders to herself, “huh, who’s Corroded Coffin?”

Your turn couldn’t come soon enough. Eddie was only two drinks in, constantly looking at the clock waiting for 11 to strike.

“You okay babe?” Leah, (or in tonight's case since she’s working, Carmella), comes over to check on him.

“Huh-yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course, she’ll be on in a few. Excited to watch her?”

“Ohyeah-yeah,totally.Can’t wait.” He takes a large sip of his drink.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Can I be real with you for a second?”

“I’m a bartender, I’m here to lend an ear to your problems.” Leah leans in, “talk to me.”

“I’ve liked her forever, I’m just stupid and have never asked her out properly. And I don’t want her to think I’m asking her out now because of all this,” he motions his arms around the room.

“Well maybe she won’t think that.”

“But she does, I know she does. And I just feel like a fucking idiot.”

“Eddie, I can assure you by the end of the night you’re not going to feel that way.”

“How do you-” Just then the lights dim ; Eddie looks at the clock ; 11:00. 

Cassie takes the microphone and introduces you, “and now ladies and gentlemen one of our veteran and favorite dancers, Lilith!”

You take the stage ; back turned towards the crowd, grabbing onto the pole ; a beautiful black outfit snug to your body ; and your music hits the stereos, a loud guitar solo opening the song. 

Eddie thought his eyes were going to fall out of his sockets, immediately recognizing the solo as his own. ; And when you turned your head to face the crowd making eye contact with Eddie and giving him a wink, he knew he was done for.

He watched you in awe, he couldn’t believe someone in a strip club was dancing to his song. But in this case it wasn’t just anyone, it was you. Someone he’s known almost his whole life, someone he’s been trying to ask out for way too long but had doubts because of his own stupidity. When your performance was over he whistled from his seat and immediately turned to Leah, “are any of the private rooms taken?”

When you exited the stage and headed back to the dressing room you were met with cheers and hugs. Everyone loved your dance and gave you your praises. 

After a few moments of celebrating and thank yous, Leah came in, a smirk across her face ; more or less as a ‘I told you so’ look. “Room #2. Go, now” The girls all gave a collective “ohhhhhhhhh”, as you rolled your eyes and left.

Eddie is standing in the middle of the room this time. You shut the door and lean up against it. You're the first to speak up ; “So,” you start to walk closer, “what did you think?”

“Don’t come any closer.” 

You stop, baffled at his words. “Why?”

“Because if you come any closer I’m going to lay you on this couch and do unthinkable things to you.”

You blush, hard. “You sure you wanna do that with a security camera in the corner?”

He looks up at the camera and waves, “free entertainment, no?”

You chuckle, such a typical Eddie answer.

“Well-”

“If you wanna know what I thought, I’m seriously never gonna get you out of my head now. How the hell am I going to ever perform that song without thinking straight?”

You look down shyly, rocking on your heels. 

“And as much as I would love to give your friends some content, I do want to do this whole thing right.” He brings himself to stand right in front of you, “let me take you on a date, a proper one. Pick you up, dinner-”

“Maybe…bowling?” He brings his head to the side, giving you a bewildered look.

“I mean, if you want too-”

“I’m joking, but dinner would be great.”

“Cool-cool. Can I pick you up tomorrow at 6?”

“Sounds like a date.” You stand more on your heels, placing a small kiss to his cheek and leaving him alone in the room.

Quick Notes - Didn't expect this to get as much love as it did so thank you again! Reblogs are appreciated! :) also yes I have an idea for a Part 3 but we'll see!

[solarenchanting]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐍ʼ 𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒

pairing: ieiri shoko x fem!reader

summary: shoko’s first impression of you back then? annoying. but the memory of meeting you means so much more now.

notes: it is based off this request from anon <33. teen!shoko and teen!reader (first-years). use of “-chan” (once). two mentions of underage smoking (shoko) - i do not condone underage smoking !!

a/n: i hope i managed to do the grumpy cat x sunshine trope justice - if not, i apologise. i tried. :’) . to whoever requested this, i hope you enjoy it !! as well as whoever stumbles upon this fic, may you enjoy it as well !! as always, much love, from me to you !! <33

ever since the day shoko met you, in spring 2005, when she moved into the tokyo metropolitan curse technical college’s dormitory and you had introduced yourself to her, kindly offering to help her move in since you already had settled the day prior—she found you annoying.

“hi, i’m [last name] [name]! and you are?!”

you stood there in the hallway, a wide smile plastered on your face with teeth that glinted as bright as the sun that filtered through her dorm room’s window. your eyes were filled with excitement—as if literal stars were shining in them.

annoying.

and this was just her first time meeting you? fuck, she wasn’t in the mood for what could possibly come out of this interaction—hopefully just a once-off meet and greet. maybe a few greetings here and there in the future, perhaps.

she arched an eyebrow, unimpressed, crossing her arms against her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.

“ieiri shoko,” she responded curtly, her tone flat. she hoped that that would be the end of the conversation—but, of course, that was just wishful thinking.

“it’s nice to meet you, ieiri-chan!” you struck your hand out, offering a handshake.

she straightened her posture, dropping her arms and her hand meeting yours, barely shaking it before bringing it back to her side.

“likewise,” she nodded, bored. “drop the honorific. call me shoko. we’re probably in the same year or whatever, after all.”

your eyes lit up even more—as if the stars inside transcended and floated around you this time—and your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping from them.

shoko fought the urge to roll her eyes and groan. she didn't think giving you first name privileges would elicit such a reaction; maybe she shouldn’t have.

but instead, she pursed her lips in a thin line and shot her eyebrows up for a split second before schooling her normal, laid-back expression.

“okay, will do, ieir—i mean, shoko! you can call me [name] then. no honorifics needed either!” you cheered, your voice echoing throughout the hallway.

annoying and bubbly? god, hasn’t she suffered enough from this interaction? she was definitely going to need to smoke a cigarette after this.

“[name]. got it,” she sucked her teeth, a tight-lipped smile on her face.

you nodded your head at her acknowledgement, satisfied to have met your dorm neighbour and potential fellow classmate.

just as you were about to bid her a good evening further and leave, you noticed the amount of suitcases and storage baskets over her shoulder on the floor of her room—at least from the small space that you were able to see from your vantage point.

“oh! do you need any help with that?” you offered.

“no, i’m fine. it’s nothing i can’t do.”

“come on, shoko, i insist! we could maybe get to know each other better,” you leaned forward to her with your hands clasped behind your back, teasing her with a smile. “you never know, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship!”

this time, shoko did roll her eyes. great, just great. exactly what she needed—more time spent with this random person she just met.

however, she turned her head over her shoulder, glancing around her room—her new home for the next following years—and took note of how she still hadn't made much progress. granted, she had just moved in an hour or two ago—and maybe she could use the help.

shoko let a tired—more like, defeated—sigh, her shoulders sagging. reluctantly, she turned to face you with a blank expression; she was not going to admit that she needed the help straight out.

“fine,” she stated, opening her door wider for you to pass, looking away to avoid seeing you beam with joy. “but no small talk. you’re just here to help and then you’re outta here, got it?”

“deal!” you promised, a firm nod of your head.

but, as shoko can recall, it had only taken you ten minutes for you to go back on your word when you began questioning her belongings—she didn’t share much; her replies were clipped and she just wanted you to stop talking and asking questions.

she didn’t admit it then—she didn’t want to—but as the conversation began flowing, your company was nice, to say the least.

so much so that instead of letting things end with you going back to your dorm once her’s was fully decorated, shoko invited you to go with her to the nearby convenience store.

it was just to accompany her to buy cigarettes, and buy whatever you craved—on her, she stated. it was to serve as a “thank you” for helping her out—it totally wasn’t because she actually enjoyed talking to you despite having just met you. totally not.

it did surprise her, only a little bit, that you agreed—eagerly, may she add. she thought you probably had other plans after helping her. instead, she later found herself walking back to the dormitory building from the convenience store with you talking her ear off.

and as the sun began to set, dipping into the horizon, the sky was a beautiful mix of blue and purple. the two of you were walking side by side, in-step with one another—she was smoking a cigarette, you were sucking on a strawberry-flavoured lollipop; pulling it out and using it as a pointer every time you saw a new star reveal itself in the sky to show her.

now looking back, after all these years, you were right.

that was the start of a beautiful friendship—and it bloomed, like the flowers of spring, into something more.

[dark-bakura1]

Okay lovelies, now that the year is almost over and there are only a few hours left, I have to use this time to get something off my chest. It's just been on my mind for a while and I want to end the year with a few nice words.

When I found my way into the DCA fandom by coincidence last year, I never expected to find a digital place where I feel so comfortable - besides various communities in the horse art role play game, in which I have been more or less active for years. I never expected to start REALLY enjoying drawing again, but these two characters just made that happen. For years I've been drawing just thinking about how many points I can get out of leveling my horses, how much effort I have to put into an event picture to have a chance at one of the top three places and somewhere along the way I totally forgot to have fun with this hobby. Fun has turned into a compulsion to always aim for the best possible result. I started to overthink pictures for so long and wanted to create something so complex that I ended up not starting at all: Because I could never have realized it the way it looked in my head.

But since I stumbled into the DCA fandom myself - by pure coincidence, I'd like to say again - and started being active on Tumbr, I've found my way back to the 'origin' for myself: Having fun with what you do. This fandom has captivated me so much that I started reading English fanfiction about our two beloved robots - something I NEVER thought would happen. Simply because my concentration is totally limited and it's hard enough for me to read and understand texts in German. For me, it was never even conceivable that I would read something in a language that is not my mother tongue: And now here I am, doing it more often than I thought. Not only that, I've even started writing again myself, have an account on ao3 and upload stories there myself. I take the trouble to write, translate, proofread and upload things… and some people even think it's really great :3

And do you know why? Because behind the DCA fandom there is an incredibly large group of people like me: Who carry around a lot of problems themselves and seek refuge with two fictional characters in a fandom that is incredibly cozy, understanding, lovable and friendly. Of course, I could also create things in a fandom that isn't that… but for me it makes an incredible difference. I have an anxiety disorder around people. Even the monthly supermarket shop is a huge challenge for me. Every trip out the door is exhausting and I don't really have contact with anyone in RL. I have my mother and grandma. I go to the doctors, to Ergo therapy and I have BEWO people on hand to support and help me… but I don't have any friends. Not because I don't want to, but because friendships are incredibly stressful for me. I can't maintain them. I haven't said a word to the person I would most likely call a 'friend' in a year - because I simply don't have the strength. Talking, listening, reacting… it's all incredibly exhausting for me. But as soon as I open Tumblr and especially Discord, I see a bunch of great people. I can join in if I can and want to, but I don't have to. And to top it all off, I see so much self-insert stuff that makes me think, 'Man, you're not so alone after all' - and on top of that, even more people who also think it's good and can relate. I know that not everyone in the DCA fandom is so nice either, but the ones I've had the privilege of getting to know are just balm for my soul.

If someone had told me at the beginning of 2023 that I would find my way into a great fandom with even better people at the end of the same year, I would have declared them crazy. I don't have it in for people and since I've almost exclusively had really shitty experiences so far, they're welcome to stay far away from me. Most of them have expectations: Expectations that I can hardly, if at all, fulfill. But there are so many great people behind Sun and Moon who are simply supportive. Not toxic, not mean, not patronizing. No. They are people who are super wholesome. I don't need someone who pushes me, teaches me, corrects me or otherwise wants to educate me with phrases that they themselves don't live by. I don't want someone who puts even more pressure on me. I want people with whom I feel safe and comfortable. people with whom I can get what other people don't want to give me. When I think that I didn't like Sun or Moon in the game, I find it amazing that they are now my refuge and straighten me out mentally so many times a day. And thanks to them, I found you. Yep - YOU. Anyone who wants to may now feel addressed. Even if we've certainly never had any contact with each other: You are part of the community that I have come to love and that I am addressing here. There is so much hate, I love a Safespace that simply has love for everything and everyone. I've been here for a year now… and I hope for MANY more years with one of the greatest communities I've ever been a part of.

Hugs to ALL of you, lots of love goes out to everyone. Happy New Year, stay healthy and I wish you and your loved ones all the happiness in the world. Thank you for existing and just being amazing people. please keep that forever <3

[szyvrue]

GREEN EGGS AND HAM, miya osamu.

( 10.6k ) tropes ── meet messy(ish?) to lovers speedrun, baker x chef, mistletoe kisses, scheming friends.

wdym this is over twelve hours late ... happy holidays, @tulip-room! i hope the inflated word count makes up for the late submission. getting to know you through the server has been a gift and i really hope you enjoy the fic <3 this was written for @lale-txt's secret santa, thank you sm for organising this lale x

credits to @/nectardaddy for the divider.

I.

The holidays is, par the course, a time of great stress for you: as the designated Christmas host, December finds itself packed full of activities, lists, organisation, recipe testing—this year is no different. When you really think about it, organising Christmas with friends is no different from organising one with a family that halfway hates each other. Two of your friends are unreliable and RSVP two days after the last possible date; one will have his answer in by the day and have weekly check-ins to see how things are going and readily offer you a list of allergies or foods to avoid; one almost accidentally invites half of his contact list, which stretches longer than it has any right to; two (not naming names) decide to ruin all your plans two weeks before Christmas.

Oh, whatever. You’re naming them. Hinata Shouyou and Miya Atsumu. See, you’ve spent the first two weeks of December planning. You have had everyone RSVP, you underwent the arduous task of finding out dietary requirements (have you ever had to figure out a Christmas meal plan when the invitees have the diets of professional athletes and you consider dessert the core of a Christmas meal?), you’ve already mostly decorated your apartment, you’ve made a comprehensive meal plan. You’ve practically organised everything down to the minute. And what do those two do, in the face of your extensive planning?

They spit in your face, that’s what.

“We’re really sorry,” Hinata says, at least having the sense to look sheepish. “We didn’t mean to double book.”

“It just kinda happened,” Atsumu agrees, looking far less repentant. He just has a criminally guilty face like that. “We know it’s a lot to spring on you so close to the date, but seriously, Samu’s a great chef. He won’t make it hard on you.”

“How do you accidentally overbook on Christmas?” You hiss, half offended and half baffled. “Seriously? You couldn’t have told me this earlier? Why not just invite him along? I can accommodate an extra guest, but a co-host?”

The boys exchange a glance. Atsumu is the one to speak. “Well, we didn’t want ta make one of you feel bad but asking you to, uh, give up your hard work. And you guys’ll get along great! He’s really…”

“Friendly!” Hinata pipes up, nodding aggressively. “He’s a chef, too—did we say that yet?—so he can help you with the food. And he probably won’t mind. And he’s conscientious. And—”

“Stop trying to pitch this guy to me,” you groan. You bury your head in your hands, taking a moment to breathe. Okay, okay. You’re flexible. You’re accommodating. You can handle this. Why can’t you just host Christmas, though? Miya Osamu may be a chef, but as a baker you’re far from a hazard in the kitchen. Anyone that’s had your Christmas pudding practically fights to get you back in there. And what about his Christmas guest list? How much more food do you have to make? How many guests do you have to host? Will he want to take over dinner now? What about—

“We’re really sorry.” Hinata leans over the counter, gripping your hand between his own. “We know this is short notice. I really think you’ll get along with Osamu though, and there shouldn’t be too many adjustments. There’s, like, a two person invite difference. You have really overlapping guest lists.” 

Your lips purse. Hate to admit it, you already know what your response is going to be.

II.

you: hey, is this miya osamu? you: hinata & atsumu gave me your number for christmas you: are you free anytime so we can discuss plans? sent 11:16am

miya osamu (christmas): yeah this is osamu miya osamu (christmas): sorry for the late response i was at work miya osamu (christmas): i can meet during my lunch break tomorrow miya osamu (christmas): or the weekend if you’re unavailable then sent 7:33pm

you: your lunch break sounds good! you: when around would that be? sent 7:45pm

miya osamu (christmas): about 1:30 miya osamu (christmas): onigiri miya miya osamu (christmas): just come up to the register and ask for me sent 7:47pm

you: alright, i’ll see you then sent 7:58pm

miya osamu (christmas): 👍 sent 7:59pm

III.

So. You meet Miya Osamu.

It’s 1:27pm when you venture into Onigiri Miya, which you Google Reviews prior to get a gauge for the place. A 4.9 star aggregate rating (impressive numbers) with what is alleged to be an affordable menu. If you’re taking it at face value, which you are, it looks like the kind of place you’d visit on your own. 

You’re fiddling awkwardly with your bag—which contains a written version of all your plans alongside your usual essentials—when you enter the store, eyes scanning over the crowd as if Miya Osamu himself will pop up with a sign around his neck. He doesn’t, because you’re at his place of work and not an airport.

Settling into line, you peer at the menu and debate whether you should buy something during your meal or just sit there and talk things through with Atsumu’s wayward twin. Or would Atsumu be the wayward twin, given his proclivity to ill-thought ideas? He was the one to suggest you merge Christmas with his unknown brother, and even if you’re the soulmates Atsumu alleges (or the perfect personality match Hinata declared) you doubt you’re both going to magically have the exact same plans. God, what if he’s allergic to, like, flour? That’d wipe out half your menu.

It doesn’t take long to reach the front of the line. “Hello,” you say to the worker behind the counter, lips curving into an awkward smile. “I’m, uh, here for Miya Osamu?” You offer them your name afterwards, just in case they were told to recognise you by it. There’s a moment's pause as the worker disappears towards the kitchen, followed shortly by the appearance of, you guessed it, Miya Osamu.

You’re not sure why you’re surprised to see Atsumu’s face copy-pasted on his identical twin brother, but it still shocks you for a second. Maybe it’s the difference in expression, relaxed and vaguely tired to his eccentric brother’s more proud visage; maybe the silver in place of gold, or the opposite parting, or the fact he’s wearing an apron while working in hospitality. You wouldn’t catch Atsumu dead in customer service.

He says your name, as if confirming that you are who you say you are. When you dip your head in a nod, he offers you a hand. “Nice to meet you. Tsumu doesn’t shut up about you.”

You try to think up a smart response. Something like ha, as if he’s much better when it comes to you or I’ve heard plenty about the enigmatic twin brother myself, but both feel flat. And false. You take his hand, shake it briefly, and quickly return your hand to the strap of your bag.

A pause. “Well, d’ya wanna sit inside?”

“Ah, sure.” You offer him a smile. “I’ll follow your lead?”

“Yeah.” He ignores your awkwardness, rolling his shoulders as if he’s physically letting your cumbrous attempts at responding to him slide off his back like water to a babbling brook. “You getting yourself anything? On the house, for the inconvenience.”

“If you don’t mind.” You rattle off a request for a snack, before being quietly led to one of the booths near the back of the shop. Miya Osamu (is just Osamu okay?) sits first and you follow, the chair scraping as you sit. You wince. “So, uh.”

“I’m really sorry for Atsumu,” he starts out of the gate, which is better than you were expecting—he does share a bloodline with Atsumu, after all. “I wasn’t exactly ecstatic hearing the news either, even if we’ve got a few weeks to sort things out.”

‘A few weeks’, you mouth. You’ve got two. Less than that, really. Twelve days. Your Christmas cake has been in the cupboard since August, feeding off of your fortnightly soaking in brandy. You’ve probably been planning for Christmas since the moment the day ticked over to November 1st. “Right. I was wondering—since we’re merging Christmas, how many more guests do we need to accommodate…?”

“Well, uh, I’m not sure who you have coming ‘round—”

“Oh, I wrote out a list.” You shuffle around in your bag for a second, pulling out the stapled collection of paper. “Sorry, I printed out a copy of everything so you’d be able to read through it. Or bring it home, if you needed to. I don’t know how long your break runs.”

“I can take a minute.” He says off-handedly, taking the paper from you with wide eyes. As he reads it over, you take an opportunity to bite into your food. “Huh. Sakusa must love you.” He glimpses over it. “You’ve even got dietary restrictions? You're an angel.”

You swallow your mouthful. It really is delicious. Atsumu wasn’t underselling his prowess. “I’m a baker,” you offer, “and also preparing the meals. Or, well, was? I figured it was important.”

He hums. “Looks like we’ve got kinda similar lists. You’re just missing Suna, Aran—friends from high school—and Ma.”

“Ma,” you say surreptitiously, “your Mom? Oh my.”

Osamu glances at you before snorting. “I don’t know what horror stories Tsumu’s been telling you, but she’s great. He’s just dramatic, he practically worships the ground she walks on on. Not that she doesn’t deserve it.”

“That’s part of what’s intimidating about it,” you groan. “Still, three more people isn’t bad. I was expecting a lot more.”

“You’ve got more people than I do to begin with. Yer inviting Tsumu’s whole team? Rowdy bunch, aren’t they?”

You shrug. “I only moved here a few months ago, so when Hinata took me in I wasn’t exactly resistant. I figured it was only polite, and half of them declined to visit family instead.”

He nods. “The shop should be able to hold eleven. Should I clear a section of the fridge for your stuff or do you want to bring it in on the day?”

“I was hoping we could still do it at my place,” you say tentatively, “I’ve got the apartment set up for Christmas, and you know the atmosphere half makes the holiday.”

“Onigiri Miya has an industrial kitchen,” he replies, “and a proper oven for cooking the ham—”

“The ham?” You stare. “I mean, if we want something, we could just grab some from the deli—”

“The deli? What deli serves Christmas ham?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s gonna be a roast?

“Not gonna be a roast?” Osamu stares at you, slack-jawed. “Whatdya just say to me?”

“Do you usually have roasts for Christmas?” You ask. 

He blinks at you. Blinks again. His lips twitch downwards, and oh God, this stranger with Atsumu’s face genuinely looks troubled. It barely takes him a second to flip through your paper, eyes landing on the menu with the dawning horror of a man being served his third divorce. “You’re kidding me. This is a snack platter.”

“Not really,” you defend, “I mean, we’ll be opening gifts, and socialising is important—dinner usually lasts a few hours on Christmas, we can’t have everyone filling up within twenty minutes. Besides, what about dessert? Everyone knows dessert is the main meal—”

“The main meal?” He squawks. “What rock have you been living under? Filled up in twenty minutes? Opening gifts with the food? You have to be joking. You’ll be sending guests home with an empty stomach!”

“It’s not like I’m going to put out a charcuterie board and call it a day! It’s just about smaller portions so people can sample more food and snack for longer.” You take another bite of your onigiri. It’s so good, which just makes it worse when Miya Osamu is so wrong.

“Christmas is the one time of year you’re able to gorge yourself sick during dinner and you’re subjecting your guests to deli ham and pastries?”

“Are you even reading the menu?” You ask, exasperated. “What would you do then? A roast ham, where everyone will be stuffed three slices in? A rotisserie chicken on the side? Because that doesn’t offer many choices. Forget an unfulfilled meal, that’d be boring.”

He gapes at you. “Look, a couple snacks as a pre-dinner meal while the ham is cooking is all fine and dandy, but as the whole meal? ‘Sides, presents are during snack time. You’ve got everything backwards.”

“What about dessert then? I mean, what’s the point of a Christmas cake—which I started in August, mind you—when no one’s got room for it? What about the custard? The pudding? The treats?”

“The dessert is complementary to a good dinner. Of course the desserts gonna feel like a showstopper if all people have had up till that point is crackers and dip—”

“Crackers and dip? Seriously?”

“Look, I said I’m all for snacks while dinner is still cooking, but this is just—”

Things don’t go well.

IV.

“Hey,” Atsumu says the next time you see each other, “how’d you and ‘Samu get on? Do I need to start planning a wedding?”

“A wedding?” You scoff. “Please. You could pair that man with a soggy napkin and the napkin wouldn’t last 30 minutes before considering complete dissolution.”

“Oh.” He looks at you for a second. “You know, most people think I’m the annoying twin.”

“They’ve clearly never met the idiot that calls itself your brother.”

“...Right.” Atsumu doesn’t look as happy as he normally would be when someone calls him the favourite twin—which really is a monumental occurrence—but rather like he’d just tripped on his laces and face planted into the sidewalk. “So, you’re not friends yet?”

“Oh, no, we’re perfectly friendly.” You say bitterly. “Absolutely wonderful. You know, he doesn’t think dessert makes a Christmas dinner? He has the idiotic idea in his head that the ham makes the meal! Can you believe that? Everyone knows the Christmas pudding makes or breaks the holiday, you’d think a chef would have more respect for—”

“Oh,” Atsumu says weakly, “right.”

V.

You take some time to cool off. This is indubitably a good idea. Within an hour, you come to a relatively simple resolution: it’s not that big of a deal. Well, it is, but even then you were overreacting. A bit exaggerative, maybe. You’re not really that angry, even if the both of you were bitchier than you had any right to be.

Maybe he’s right about the roast? Just because it’s not normal for you, doesn’t mean it’s not normal for anyone else. He is a chef. He could’ve been nicer on the desserts, though—what did your apple pie do to deserve that kind of vitriol?

You text Atsumu an apology for the rant. You were in the wrong for that, even if you’re not quite ready to apologise to his brother for acting out. You’ll sleep on it. Maybe the morning will come with the proper words and fully extinguished anger.

As you find out the next morning, you don’t have to send the first message.

miya osamu (christmas): hey miya osamu (christmas): i’m sorry abt how our talk went miya osamu (christmas): we clearly have different ideas of a christmas meal & i shouldntve blown up at you like that sent 6:13am

you: hi sorry, i just woke up you: honestly, you weren’t the only person overreacting. i’m really sorry about how poorly i acted you: i honestly don’t mind your roast idea you: i’m really sorry you: i’m honestly really embarrassed about how i acted sent 8:39am

miya osamu (christmas): dw miya osamu (christmas): i wasn’t exactly an angel miya osamu (christmas): ill be honest i still don’t get the want for smaller servings over a hearty meal miya osamu (christmas): but its not gonna kill me to try something new sent 1:31pm

you: actually i was thinking you: since you’re a chef, you probably have a better idea of what’d make a good christmas dinner you: so if you really want to go the roast route, i’m not going to complain you: i will admit that i really would prefer to have christmas at my place though! sent 1:35pm

miya osamu (christmas): i can work around that miya osamu (christmas): only issue is i’d have to transfer meal prep/food throughout the week sent 1:37pm

you: i’m okay with that you: should i send you my address? i was thinking maybe we could meet in person and work out a menu that works for both of us you: and you can take a look at my kitchen to see if it’ll be an okay substitute to your industrial kitchen sent 1:42pm

miya osamu (christmas): sounds good miya osamu (christmas): when are you free? sent 1:43pm

VI.

The second Osamu sees Atsumu coming, he struggles to suppress a groan. He loves Atsumu, he does, but there’s only one thing the guy will want to talk about right now: Christmas. Osamu’s more than happy to be hosting it—their Ma’s been in charge since they were born all the way up to Osamu opening Onigiri Miya, and he’s happy to take over the holiday and let her just enjoy the holiday. That being said, a last minute co-host wasn’t in the cards. At all. 

He’s heard your name enough to feel like you should be best buds, given how much Atsumu refuses to shut up about you. He’s never been subtle in his foray into matchmaking, but this? This takes the cake. It doesn’t matter how much c’mon Samu, you’ll love them! or ya know, this friend of mine loves this too or I should invite them ‘round sometime, dontcha think? Atsumu tries to ply him with, there’s no world in which this would happen and you’d both be fine with it. If you’ve heard half as much about him as he has you (which he’s pretty sure you haven’t, given the dumpster fire that was your first meeting) then you’d be just as aware that Christmas planning would probably get a bit messy at first. 

Barring the major issue of you valuing dessert over dinner (which, whatever, but who doesn’t have Christmas ham? He’d been half convinced you were joking at first) while he’s always put weight on the dinner—what can he say? With Christmas came free hams from his Ma’s work, and that was a once a year experience. It’s just how things are. However, Atsumu apparently expects the both of you to magically gain the ability to read minds and communicate perfectly and innately understand each other upon your first meeting. Idiot.

You were gorgeous, though. That was almost the worst part; he'd seen you, and he'd gone oh, that's why Tsumu's so desperate to set us up. You smiled, a shy, cracked smile, and for a second it was all he could think about. Then, of course, he started arguing like an idiot and things blew up out of control.

“‘Samu!” Atsumu cheers, rounding the table he’s scrubbing down to slap him on the shoulder, arm snaking across them. “Whatcha up to? Free for a chat?”

He snorts, eyes lingering on the door. “Where’s your henchman?”

“Shouyou’s busy,” Atsumu declares shamelessly. “I was just wondering… everything alright with Christmas?”

“Things are fine,” he says blandly, “don’t worry, yer getting a gift.”

He squeezes Osamu’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I meant planning Christmas. You’re getting on with—?”

“Yeah. Just had a couple misunderstandings. We’re ironing them out.”

“No fights? You’re all good?”

So he’s already interrogated you. Colour Osamu unsurprised. “Yep. Things are fine.”

“You sure?”

“Did they tell you otherwise?”

“Nah,” Atsumu says too quickly to actually be honest, “just worried for the less charismatic twin. I get why you might be having trouble.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Osamu replies. “Now stop nagging. Your food will be fine, your Christmas will be fine, your friend isn’t going to maul me to death. Everything's sorted.”

VII.

Okay, you were overdramatic. You’re not that angry that he doesn’t understand the sanctity of a proper Christmas cake, because, funny enough, different people celebrate Christmas differently. It’s Christmas, he was a little frustrated, you’re a little frustrated; you can offer the both of you the benefit of the doubt.

So when Miya Osamu shows up at your apartment three minutes into your allotted meeting time, lunchbox in one hand and a crumpled pile of paper in the other, you merely offer him an ever so slightly tense smile and let him in.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” you offer, “how have you been?”

“Pretty good. Work’s been busy—always is, ‘round the holidays—and Tsumu’s been annoying as usual.”

“He’s been pestering you too?” You pause, glancing around the apartment. “Sorry, do you want to sit or do you want to look at the kitchen first?”

“We can sit.” He offers you a smile, eyes crinkling at the edges; you can’t help but notice it’s a trait unique to him. You can’t even begin to imagine his brother with crows feet. “I, uh, made some lunch. As an apology.”

“You didn’t have to,” you start, eyes flickering towards the lunchbox tucked underneath his arm. “But, um, thanks. That’s sweet of you.”

“Least I could do.” Osamu looks around for a second, as if waiting for your lead. You both hover there, unsure how to act following the dumpster fire that was your first conversation. “Your apartment looks nice. I like the tree.”

“Thanks.” You take a seat, motioning him over towards your couch. “Well, how are you?” You wince. “Sorry. I already asked that.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s fine. I’ve been good. You?”

“As good as I can be.” You take a deep breath. “So. Christmas dinner.”

“Right. I took a page out of your book.” He gestures with the paper in his hand, pages denting from his tight grasp. “They all come with recipes so we can figure out what we’ll need to get. Just thought I’d run a possible menu by you? I know you said you wanted snacks.”

“It’s fine,” you say quietly. “We can just serve my idea as snacks, I hadn’t bought everything yet. Besides, it’s being held at my place, isn’t it? I can’t complain. Considering everything that happened last time we talked, I kind of assumed you’d want to take over dinner.”

“If that’s fine by you.” He offers you the paper, then the lunchbox. “I just made some onigiri. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, onigiri is good.” You place the paper in your lap, reaching over to unlatch the lunchbox and peer inside. “Oh, it’s the one I had last time! It was really good. I didn’t get to say.”

“Can’t blame ya. Tensions were a little high.” 

You slide a glance his way. “You’re only half to blame for that.”

“Still half, ain’t I?”

“I suppose.” Your lips twitch as you reach over to grab one. “This looks delicious, thank you.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. At the same time, his lips curl up proudly like an aloof cat begging for attention; too proud to admit he’s pleased, not proud enough to not show it. Wildly endearing. “I make it every day.”

You hum around your first bite of onigiri and Osamu follows suit, grabbing one for himself. “I, uh, don’t have most of the stuff for this. And I don’t know if I have room in my fridge for a five kilo ham on top of everything else.”

“The ham needs to go out a couple days early to start defrosting too,” he warns. “How big is your fridge? I’ll need to see what I’m working with.”

“You’re going to be playing a bit of tetris with it,” you reply. “I’m making a lot of dessert that you’ll be contending with. Since you’re now on dinner duty, I was thinking of expanding the dessert menu a bit and just sending people home with leftovers.” 

“I’m fine with that.” He takes a bite, chews, swallows. “We might need to shorten our snack list since it’s no longer meant to be a full meal. I was thinking we keep the mix of savoury and sweet, just lessen portions and maybe cut out the cheeseboard.”

“Thank god,” you mutter, “I felt like I had to put it out since it’s such a staple, but I’m lactose intolerant and a cheeseboard never gets finished. What was I supposed to do with all that leftover cheese? It’s so expensive nowadays too. Yeesh.”

Osamu snorts. “And around the holidays too? Things have doubled in cost.”

“It’s ridiculous. You’ll never believe how much I saw the local grocery store selling butter for the other day. It’s daylight robbery.” You flip past the menu to individual recipes, quickly skimming the ingredients list. “I have a pretty stacked spice cabinet, so you won’t need to buy much. Ms. Sato—my next door neighbour—has a herb garden too, and she’s always happy to spare fresh herbs. You can get the rosemary from there.”

“Nice. How far is your local fresh veggie store?”

“About an 18 minute drive,” you admit, “and it’ll be swamped as Christmas gets closer.”

“Still better than some withering supermarket produce three days away from moulding.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re clearly going to a better supermarket then.”

You shake your head slightly. You’re really not.

To say things go better this time around is a vast understatement; with your individual printed menus (it turns out Osamu never got an opportunity to read your original dessert menu, given his outrage at dinner—all for the better in the end, considering you’d since expanded it) you compare what you’ll need, discuss who’s paying (Osamu insists he pays for ingredients if he’s using your kitchen, even if upon inspection he admits it's a little less well-equipped than he’d like), the dietary requirements of his additional guests, Sakusa’s preferred hygiene practices (fine—honestly just industry-standard requirements, you’ve never understood why people act like he’s the world's greatest germaphobe when he simply strictly adheres to proper hygiene practices and the healthy and safety standard), and an appropriate time to hold the meal (given the guests are coming over at 4 and snacks will be out, you settle for 7 so there’s still enough time for pre-meal socialisation).

When he finally surveys your kitchen, there’s a few issues. It’s smaller than he’d like, given you’ll be simultaneously working on a meal to feed eight voracious athletes (turns out his two friends from high school also went into professional volleyball), a chef, you, his mother, and Bokuto’s “best bud” Akaashi. Your dutch oven is a bit too small, which you deal with by him simply asking if he can bring his own over to keep in your house during the holidays, and your oven is going to be cramped, which is a side effect of working in a regular kitchen as opposed to Onigiri Miya. There’s a couple other issues—he does take one look at the inside of your fridge and freezer and grimace at the limited space—but it turns out that when you can properly sit down and talk, things don’t feel that dire. Who’d have thought?

By the time your kitchen investigation is winding down, the hours have trickled over and your shared meal settles warmly in your stomach. There’s a lingering smile on your face, and the ever-present knot in your chest has loosened into something closer to relief. Now that you’ve got all the major details sorted out and you actually know how things are going to work, the idea of co-hosting Christmas doesn’t feel as stressful.

You follow him to the door, leaning against the doorframe as you bid your farewells.

“Do you know when you’ll want to start dropping things off?” You ask. You’ve both well-established the meal prep that goes into your specific meal. Osamu, given the nature of his ingredients, is going to be cooking a lot more day-of; you’re lucky enough to get away with a lot more meal prep.

“I was thinking I’d start dropping things off maybe nine days before Christmas?” Osamu grimaces. “If I start early, I won’t have to juggle everything while catering to the full Christmas crowd at work.”

You hum in sympathy. You’d mentioned your own work as a baker at a crêperie and to say you hadn’t been experiencing the Christmas activity would be a big, plain, fat lie. It’s been hell on your back. “Alright. Just text me before you want to visit so I have some warning, M- Os- sorry, what should I call you?”

Osamu huffs, amused. “Just call me Osamu. Ya gotta deal with my oaf of a brother too, no need to get all formal. It’ll only get confusing. I’ll come around seven thirty on the 16th?”

“Perfect.” You smile up at him. “I’m really sorry again about how our first meeting went. I’m glad we sorted it out so quickly.”

“Didn’t I say it’s fine?” He asks blandly. “Water under the boat. We were both dicks.”

“Still.”

“Still,” he repeats, lips twitching upwards. “I’ll see ya around. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Osamu. Drive home safe!”

VIII.

you: would you mind taste testing something for me when you drop by to stack the fridge? you: i’m working on some christmas cookies and i need a second opinion on taste and how the icings looking sent 6:57pm

miya osamu (christmas): sure thing miya osamu (christmas): want me to bring leftovers from the shop? sent 7:01pm

you: a man after my heart you: yes please!! sent 7:03pm

miya osamu (christmas): be there in 15 sent 7:03pm

IX.

“Osamu!” You offer the man at your door a smile. “Come on in. The kitchens a mess right now and I still need to do the dishes, but I’ve been working on some desserts—”

“You told me,” he replies, “smells delicious. Sugar cookies?”

“Yeah, but I’ve also got some mini pumpkin pies cooking. I was thinking of serving it as a snack, but I don’t know if it’ll work well with everything else we’re serving.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He follows you to the kitchen, quickly unloading his two full tubs of stuff onto the kitchen counter. “Hope you don’t mind, but I brought my own mixer. Yer KitchenAid looks a little outdated, and I figured a newer model might be nicer until Christmas is over.”

“You’re an angel,” you reply brightly. “Do you need help stacking the fridge, or are you happy doing it yourself?”

“I’ll try a hand at it myself.”

“Holler if you need a hand.” You’re quick to return to your own preparations, practicing for Christmas. With the sugar cookies done (if Osamu approves of them, that is) you’ve also pre-made a few batches to keep chilled until Christmas comes. One thing done, only a hundred others to go. “Try a few cookies while you’re working.”

“Will do. Hey, was your work okay?”

“Same as always,” you say, “we can’t all own our own place. Boss is a jerk, the menu’s alright. What else is new?”

“Sounds boring.” A grunt, likely Osamu trying to fit a 5kg ham in a fridge that can barely hold five kilos of food to begin with. “And I’m making onigiri all day.”

“Maybe, but it’s all pain au chocolat and fruit tarts and those awful cinnamon swirls. Not to mention, the crepes suck.”

“Your fault for working at a crêperie. I didn’t even know those were real.”

“It’s all pseudo-French. I don’t think a real French person has ever stepped foot inside the establishment.”

Osamu whistles. “Sucks to be you.”

“Oh, Shut up,” you say waspishly. Your pie weights are collected back in the bag you store them in, the filling is done, and you’re just waiting for the crust to fully cool before filling them. Stuck with nothing immediate to do, you return to cleaning up. Osamu is busy maneuvering his huge dutch oven into your cabinet as you admire the stand mixer that will be yours for the next nine days, all attachments beside it. It possesses way more than your measly dough hook, beater, and a whisk that’s definitely seen better days. “Get to it, taste tester. Stop messing around.”

“Messing around? Do you have any idea how much this oven weighs?”

“That brother of yours wouldn’t have any issue,” you say teasingly. 

“That brother of mine is a professional athlete. ‘Sides, he’d spend the entire time whining about having to do it.” Not something you’ve ever personally experienced, but you’ll take his word for it. Osamu, having finally placed his dutch oven, reaches over to your plate of cookies. You’ve done your best to make them Christmas themed when you don’t own proper Christmas cookie cutters—this really is the season of over consumerism—which largely means using circular cookie cutters and decorating them like baubles, but you think they’ve turned out pretty nice anyway. He picks one up, examines it, and grins. “Not sure why you were worried about the icing, it looks good. I like this one.” He turns it your way, jingling it a bit like a bell will start ringing. You bite back a smile.

“The lines aren’t too shaky?”

“Nah. Looks perfect.” Your mouth pulls into something pleased. You turn your head away to hide it, knowing even as you do it that you’re largely unsuccessful. In the interim of your bashfulness, Osamu takes a bite. “Mm, it tastes good too. Not too sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He grins, blinking slowly at you. “Yeah. Got no reason to lie, do I?”

“Alright, alright, don’t flatter me too much.” You laugh, flattered anyway. Geez.

Osamu merely hums, turning back to stacking the fridge. “Not like it’s hard. You’re a good baker.”

“Can tell from a couple of sugar cookies, can you?”

“Yeah, I can. I’m looking forward to the pumpkin pies.” He grabs a couple trays, slotting them where he can. Your fridge is already looking pretty full with everything in it, but he finds a way to make room. 

X.

“So,” Hinata starts hesitantly between mouthfuls of food. You’re at the local park, perched together on a bench as you eat your individual lunches. “How are you and Osamu getting along? Atsumu said you were,” he pauses, “having difficulties.”

“I may have overexaggerated,” you admit, “he’s actually really lovely to work with. He’s a really good chef and, after the initial bump, we don’t really have any issues. I think we were both just stressed about Christmas going perfectly that first time.”

Hinata brightens, his face flowering like the sun. “I knew you two would work it out! Atsumu was scared it was doomed.”

“Well, I did tell him Osamu couldn’t charm a wet paper towel or something. I was a bit aggressive.”

“He said,” Hinata replies gravely, “but I thought you’d talk it out. Kageyama—my setter from high school—and I had a really crappy first meeting too, and we were able to talk it out then. I don’t see why you wouldn’t have been able to now. You’re way more mature now than I was at fifteen.”

You cover your snort with a cough. You have heard stories about Hinata’s exuberance as a teenager, occasionally to his own detriment. It’s not as much of a comfort as he’s probably thinking, considering he might just be the world’s most charismatic individual. “Yeah, we apologised and everythings sorted out. Neither of us hold it against each other, I think. Osamu’s honestly really charming.”

He looks at you warmly. “You’ve both got a lot in common. It’s why Atsumu’s been so adamant about setting you up.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to learn some subtlety,” you grumble, “and don’t think I don’t know your hand in this, Mr. Co-conspirator.”

“I can see his vision.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s on this vision board he’s cultivating? You know, he asked me if he needs to start planning the wedding last time we talked.”

“He’s not that excited! I think. He really wants you to marry into the family though, and obviously their mum’s off limits.”

“You don’t know that. I love women.”

“She’s 53.”

“I like older women too.” You pause. “You know how old their mum is?”

“Yeah, she’s been inviting me to her birthday for the past couple of years.” Hinata takes a long, loud sip of his drink. “And you get along way better with Osamu.”

“You just know everyone on god’s green earth, don’t you.” You look over at the park, watching two kids kick a ball between the pair of them. “By the way, I wanted to ask. Do you know what Osamu would like for Christmas?”

XI.

That Saturday, Osamu arrives in the morning. He tells you it’s because he asked someone else to open the shop for him, leaving him free for the morning; either way, you make the both of you breakfast. He eats your homemade bread like it’s michelin star cuisine, and you swear you’ve never taken so many compliments in your life. You receive more in that hour than you have in the entirety of your existence, you’re pretty sure—a lifetime of deprivation being filled in fifty-seven measly minutes. It means a lot, even if you’re too proud to admit it.

You both end up in the same place you have every day he’s come over that week: the kitchen, Osamu mixing together ingredients for the roast glaze while you make a lemon meringue pie. You lend him an apron, which means that on top of his—admittedly very attractive, despite its simplicity—usual outfit is a pink apron with a classic ‘Kiss the Chef’ embroidered on the front. A gift from Atsumu for your birthday, which Osamu is quick to inform you was exactly what he got from Atsumu for Christmas last year. Hearts and all. 

You knock against his hip as you walk past, peering into the fridge (already looking pretty full, which does not bode well for the remaining build up to Christmas) in search of some more pastry you’d pre-prepared for recipe testing. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what kind of thing would your mum like for Christmas?”

“You’re getting her a gift?” Osamu raises his head, turning a near 180-degrees to look at you.

“I’m getting everyone a gift, Osamu.” You busy your hands with scrubbing your kitchen counter free of stray flour. “Now, what does she want? And while we’re at it, what about your other two guests?”

“Get them something cheap.” He says simply. “You don’t know them, they don’t know you. No one needs to shell out for a stranger. I’m pretty sure Suna’s buying you wine and Aran’s got chocolate.”

Okay, simple gifts. That’ll be easy. Simple. Convenient. It won’t hurt your pockets much more than this holiday already is. “And your mum? Hinata recommended a massage wand, but I wanted a second opinion.”

Osamu snorts. “That scrub has no concept of a price range when it comes to gifts.”

“Tell me about it,” you lament. Hinata’s really good at budgeting, up until birthday gifts get involved. You’re not surprised Christmas is much the same. “I’m just worried a massage wand is too much since they run pretty expensive, but I don’t want to just get her wine and chocolate and call it a day. It’s what half the party will be doing.”

He hums. “Ma’s not that materialistic. She likes stuff she can use.”

“Well I’m not going to get her a set of pans, am I?”

He huffs, a soft sound that drags out into the air and lingers in the kitchen. “Not like that. I mean craft items, or something like honey from a farmers market or an artisan soap or some bath bombs. Shouyou’s on the right wavelength with the massage wand.”

“Okay, okay,” you leave the kitchen briefly to grab a notebook so you can scribble that down. “Chocolate, wine, artisanal goods. I’ll go out and grab them tomorrow. Then it’s just waiting on your gift.”

“Waiting on mine?” He asks, immediately curious. “You’re getting it shipped?”

“Nope.” 

“Then how’re ya waiting on it? Still coming up with ideas?”

You roll your eyes. “None of your business, is it?”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Your heart skips a beat at the endearment. Sweetheart. You. Sweetheart. “Give me a hint about mine, and I’ll tell you something about yours?”

“You’re so conniving,” you say fondly. “Fine. I’m waiting on it because—and you can’t get mad at me for this—I’m trying to thrift it.”

“Thrift it?” His brows furrow. “What is it, a sweater?”

“No,” you huff. “Look, I know it’s got a bad rap, but I like thrifting gifts. There’s always some hidden gems, and you can find some really good high-quality or vintage stuff at affordable prices. It forces me to think out of the box sometimes too. They can make for really good gifts.”

He raises his hands in a sign of surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging you. My Ma did the same thing growing up.”

“Then you’d know it’s not just sweaters.”

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time.”

“Oh my god.” You take a moment, fight back a smile, and continue. This man—you wish you’d met him sooner. “Anyway, I have an idea, but it’s a bit on the pricey side. I was hoping I could get something good quality thrifted, but if I don’t see anything over the next couple of days I’m falling back onto plan B.”

“Which is?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“C’mon now! Yer just stringing me along.”

You turn to him, peering at him through your lashes. “Maybe I just like giving you a hard time.”

His expression cracks. “Yer such a brat,” he tells you, even as his mouth splits into a grin. “You think you’re so smart, dontcha?”

“Well, since you said so,” you say brightly, “it’d be rude of me to refute a compliment, yeah?”

“Whatever,” he says warmly, “you’re a big fan of thrifting?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “As I said, you can find some nice vintage pieces. It’s where I got my favourite jacket, and I’ve been hoping to find a good sweater there for forever. I know cashmere is a far away dream, I just want something that’ll last, y’know? Clothes fray so fast nowadays.”

“Hm.” It’s all he says. A low hum of acknowledgement, a soft curl of huh, a- you don’t even know how to explain it. He opens his mouth to speak, and the pair of you are interrupted by the blaring of your timer.

“Oh, shit!” You squeeze his arm, shuffling past his figure as you hurry over to the oven. “God, I shouldn’t have gotten distracted. Lemon meringue is so finicky—”

“Don’t sweat it, I’m sure it’ll taste great.” Osamu peers over your shoulder as you lay it on the counter, pressed close to your back. “How long until I can try it?”

“You’ve got a black hole for a stomach there,” you tell him, “five hours minimum.” You pause. “Hey, wait, what about my gift? We had a deal.”

His expression twists into a grin. “None of your business, is it?”

XII.

miya osamu (christmas): its really hurting my heart to have to make greek salad for christmas dinner sent 1:32pm

you: your fault for catering for a bunch of athletes! you: here’s to hoping they don’t turn their nose up at dessert sent 1:35pm

miya osamu (christmas): theyd be idiots to miya osamu (christmas): besides whatever they don’t eat ma and i are taking home lmao sent 1:36pm

you: a little presumptuous of you to assume you’ll be taking all the dessert you: maybe i want to distribute it among my coworkers sent 1:37pm

miya osamu (christmas): you dont miya osamu (christmas): you hate all of them miya osamu (christmas): minus the one girl sent 1:38pm

you: stop listening to me when i talk sent 1:38pm

miya osamu (christmas): hard ask sent 1:39pm you reacted to this message with ‘👎’

XIII.

“Ya know,” Atsumu starts, which never bodes well for the collective intelligence of anyone in the room. “Considering the two of you are hosting and all, do you think you should have matching Christmas sweaters? As a show of unity.”

“Whaddya take me for? A muppet?” Osamu snorts. “Didja even try with that one? That’s your flimsiest excuse yet.”

“Hey! It’s a genuine question.” Atsumu nods to himself. “You should get them a gift. They’d love a matching Christmas sweater.”

“Sure,” he says blandly. “You done now?”

“Wait, really? You’ll do it?”

“No.” Osamu turns back to what he was doing, which is making dinner for the both of you to eat when he comes over in an hour with more food to put away. “I’m getting ‘em something else.”

“Wait, really?” Atsumu repeats, even more shocked, which he has no right to be when he was just suggesting matching Christmas sweaters. “You’re actually getting them something?”

“Close yer mouth, you’ll catch flies.” 

“I didn’t realise you were actually getting along! Shouyou made it seem like you’re best buds, but you know how he is!”

“Shouyou’s clearly got his head screwed on a bit tighter then.”

“Oi, fuck off.” Atsumu groans. “They talked about you like you were, I don’t know, the devil or something. They said you couldn’t convince a soggy napkin to marry you without it wanting to off itself in thirty.”

Osamu snorts. He can’t find it in himself to be offended; that’s pretty funny. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

“And now you’ve learnt humility?” Atsumu’s head jerks, horrified. “What have they done to you?”

Osamu ignores him. Atsumu isn’t wrong, even if he’d rather drop dead than admit it. He does like you, a lot more than he probably should given you’ve barely known each other for two weeks. You’re cute (really, crazily cute), funny, conscientious; he’s had more fun sorting out Christmas with you than he’d ever imagined, even with Atsumu hyping you up to be the second coming of Christ himself. You’ve grown closer than he’d thought possible. If he’s being honest with himself (which he is), he’s kind of dreading the end of your plans come Christmas. 

“You’re so full of shit,” he says instead, “I’ve always been like this.”

XIV.

It’s finally Christmas. This, of course, comes with a whirlwind of activity; you spend Christmas eve deep cleaning your house with Osamu as a willing assistant, spend Christmas day rearranging decorations and doing the last of your baking and trying really, really hard not to panic.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Osamu assures you, elbow deep into his dinner prep while you buzz around the apartment, looking for the slightest imperfection in need of fixing. “Your baking tastes great, the apartment looks nice, everyone’s coming to have a good time, and you’ve still got half an hour to get ready in case something does go wrong.”

You nod in agreement even as you rearrange the bouquet on the dining table. “The ham’s already in the oven, right?”

“You helped me put it in half an hour ago,” he replies, “stop worrying. C’mere, don’tcha have a custard to make for the eggnog?”

“Right!” You zip into the kitchen, readjusting your apron as you approach your now stuffed fridge. Getting anything new in it has been a challenge, what with the way you’ve both had to rearrange it three times to make everything fit. You grab the milk carton, dropping it at the nearest counter and reaching over to squeeze Osamu’s shoulder in thanks as you walk past. Everything else is all but ready; the house is arranged, gifts are stacked under the tree, the ham’s already cooking and every single one of your desserts (minus the custard) is tucked carefully in the fridge. Snacks are already laid out on the dining table, the bathroom has been scrubbed until it was sparkling, everyone knows your address, you’re almost completely dressed; there’s little to do but fiddle. And make custard. Osamu passes you the egg carton, and you smile at him in thanks.

You guys work in silence before your own nerves get the better of you. “I’m really sorry about all this. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about everything right now. It’s planned down to the minute, I really shouldn’t be so stressed about this.”

“I don’t mind. Happens to the best of us.” Osamu pauses, taking a break to wipe olive oil off his hands before leaning his hip against the counter. “I’m pretty nervous too.”

“You’re good at looking otherwise.”

He shrugs. “There’s a lot to be nervous about. Ma’s joining us, and I always want to make it a good holiday for her. Work’s been busy, holiday planning’s been busy. I’m doing a more western-style Christmas dinner. I’m worried about where you and I will stand when Christmas is over and I’m worried Ma’s gonna feel awkward being over 20 years older than everyone else. I know she’s struck up that weird friendship with Shouyou, but still.”

“Well, Sakusa does have a weird affinity with middle aged women,” you offer, “and if anything, he’ll be desperate for embarrassing stories about Atsumu. You know how those boys like tormenting each other. I’ve tasted your cooking too, and it’s never been anything less than spectacular—you should know, given how much I enjoy it. And, uh, I hope we can continue meeting up regularly afterwards. At the very least, you’ll need to visit to transport half of your cooking utensils home.”

“Doesn’t stop me from worrying though, does it?” He cracks a smile. “I dunno. I’ve grown attached to this kitchen. Might take a page out of Tsumu’s book and start haunting your apartment.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say softly. “I mean, the circumstances weren’t amazing, but I’ve liked getting to know you. I hope we can stay close.” You hover on that for a moment, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to just gush, but I hope we can stay close isn’t all you want to say, either. The words linger there, sweet on the tip of your tongue, lost only to your inability to verbalise the feeling coalescing in your chest. “You’re, uh, a dear.”

Osamu reaches over, grasping your hand in his own; his palm is warm, soft from the oil he was just handling, a bit bigger than your own. “I’m a dear? What are you, my grandma?” He asks teasingly.

“You know what I mean.”

His lips twitch upwards. “Yeah. I do.” He squeezes your hand, thumb rubbing soft circles into your knuckles. His mouth opens, like he too has something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to say it. Like you, he too cops out. “Keep texting, ‘kay? This has been fun.”

“Of course.” You grin, lips peeled over your teeth, your joy on full display. “What else are we supposed to do with our lunch breaks?”

His gaze flickers. “I have some ideas.”

It sinks into you then; oh. He’s flirting. Probably. Most likely? That’s, like, the most overused phrase in the book. I have some ideas. He doesn’t just want to talk. He has some ideas. You turn your hand in his grasp until your palms face each other, carefully lacing your fingers together. You keep eye contact. He follows your lead dutifully, shuffling ever so slightly closer, and you gather that soft hope in your chest as you respond. “Some ideas, huh? Wanna share with the class?”

It hovers in the air between you. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth, soft and slightly parted; his flickers to yours. The anticipation, that moment before an inevitability, yawns. You both know what’s going to happen, your free hand moving to his bicep as his rests on your waist. You bite your lip to contain a smile. 

“You just gonna stare at me all day?” He asks, voice ushered into a low murmur. 

“Well, you were the one that had some ideas,” you reply, voice just as low. “I don’t want to get the wrong idea, do I?”

“I have a feeling you know what it is.” His hand, a brand on your waist, slides until it rests on the small of your back; he pulls you in until you’re pressed together, a scant thread of air the only thing separating you. You tilt your head up, still making eye contact, and he hums slowly. “You’ve got such a beautiful smile. It was the first thing I noticed about you.”

Your features bloom, a happiness inexperienced unfurling in your chest; you’re sure now, absolutely certain, that there’s not a single person in human history to have experienced the same joy that you do in this moment. It’s not possible, that there’s this kind of giddiness in you that billions before you have been able to experience. Or maybe it is, and it’s your turn to experience it. Either way, you open your mouth to reply.

This, of course, means it’s the perfect time for the doorbell to ring.

Osamu’s head swings forward until your foreheads are touching, a deep groan escaping his lips. A similar sound of disappointment escapes you. “Whoever that is, I’m gonna kill them.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” you say, even as a part of you wants to ignore them. “Those are our guests we’re talking about. Who’s gonna eat all that ham if you kill them at the door?”

“It’s your Christmas cake I’m worried about.” And he steps away, rolling his shoulders in noticeable disappointment. “You started it in August, can’t let all that hard work go to waste.”

The doorbell rings again. Your eye twitches, even as you heft a full-body sigh. “I’ll get it.”

When you open the door, Atsumu’s cruel, malignant face is the one to greet you, a huge bag hefted under his arm. “Took you long enough! Did I interrupt something?”

“You’re obnoxious,” you tell him, stepping out of the way. Hinata follows behind him, arms stacked with about six bags full to the brim. “Gifts under the tree.”

“What’ve you got there, Shouyou?” Osamu asks, moving to grab some of the bags. Atsumu bats his hands away.

“Nah, uh, uh, Samu.” He grins. “Nice apron. Got it for you last Christmas, didn’t I?”

“No, that was my birthday gift.”

He grimaces. Osamu, in contrast, grins. “Nice of you to get us matching aprons. Let’s hope we don’t have a repeat performance.”

“You’re such a dick.” Atsumu claps him on the back. “Geez, get freshened up. You’re gonna welcome your guests looking like that?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Good thing you’ve got me to set you right.” Atsumu nods to himself, rummaging through his huge bag before tossing Osamu a headband with foamed, sequined deer horns on top. “There you go. Get changed and put this on—the wardrobe is half the holiday!”

“Now you’re just making shit up.” Still, remarkably good at annoying each other, Atsumu manages to usher Osamu into the bathroom. The second Osamu’s gone, he turns to you with a wide grin.

“We bought alcohol.”

Instinctively, your eyes snap to the weight Hinata is carrying in horror. Hinata, either not noticing or not caring for the way you recoil, smiles. “The place looks good! Sorry for coming so early.”

“It’s alright,” you say, even though it really, really isn’t. “Did you seriously bring six bags of alcohol? How much did that even cost?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Atsumu pats your shoulder consoling. “We’re gonna need it. You might want some liquid courage for this.”

“For what?” You ask, eyes darting over to Hinata, who’s suddenly very dutifully unpacking the contents of an entire liquor store onto your counter. “Okay, wait, don’t do that. Put it in the pantry.”

Atsumu sighs out your name. “You don’t need to play coy with us. We know the truth.”

“...Right.” You turn away, retreating back to the kitchen and your unfinished custard. “Well, you have fun with that. You’re not getting drunk until after dessert.”

“Now that’s just not fa—” the doorbell cuts Atsumu off this time. Serves him right.

XV.

The party is in full swing by the time gifts are being opened. Your snacks are well received, given they’re all but devoured by the time dinner comes around. Dinner is a smash hit, and dessert is demolished even with 80% of the guest list comprising of professional athletes. Osamu’s ham is a particular favourite (you have to admit, there really is merit to a Christmas roast) and your Christmas cake another, four months of cultivating gone in fifteen minutes. By the time everyone is winding down, Atsumu’s excessive load of alcohol has been brought out even though most of the party is sipping on the homemade eggnog—Atsumu’s brandy an additional ingredient—and gifts, which at that point had spilled out from under the tree to halfway across the lounge, are finally brought out.

“You were right,” you mutter to Osamu, who’s sat so close beside you that your shoulders brush with every movement, which is something Atsumu had been gleeful to point out. Constantly. “The roast was the better idea. I can’t believe I was so anti-ham.”

“Looking a little cosy there,” Atsumu says knowingly for the third time this evening, before Osamu gets the chance to respond. Aran, one of Osamu’s guests and sitting criss-cross-applesauce beside Atsumu, groans loudly. “Got something to share?”

“They were complimenting my ham,” Osamu replies blandly. “Why? You wanna take turns, maybe compliment the salad?”

Hinata perks up from where he was opening a volleyball shaped soap. You’re not sure who bought him it. “It was really good, Osamu. Are you sure I’m allowed to take some home?”

“Go ahead, Shouyou. You think I can eat that and everything else in the next few days?”

Tuning out the conversation, you pull out your next gift. It’s from Osamu, funny enough; you bite your lip, ready to make a comment, only to find him already looking at you. “Go on, open it. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Rolling your eyes, you begin meticulously unwrapping it. It’s square, which you find out is because he put it in a nondescript cardboard box before wrapping it. A gasp escapes you as you peer inside and Atsumu (ever the mood killer) squawks when you pull it out to properly look at it. “You called me a muppet for suggesting a sweater!”

“You’re a fucking liar, Tsumu.” Osamu immediately shoots back. 

You grin, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you run a hand along the inside. It’s soft, with a slightly well-worn look to it; you almost feel like kicking your feet, recalling your conversation from several days ago. No wonder he refused to give you a hint—he’d only just decided what to get you, that sneak. You don’t even know how he found this.

Well, you kind of do. You nudge his shoulder, grinning giddily. “Open your gift from me. Right now.”

“Impatient, arentcha?”

“I’m serious.” You beam up at him. “Open it, Osamu.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, pulling it towards you and quickly tearing through the paper. There’s a moment's pause as he stares at his gift. Osamu’s lips twitch upwards, peeling back over his teeth. He glances at his gift, back up to you, back down to his gift again. “You told me you weren’t getting me a sweater.”

“I lied.” 

“You’re kidding,” Atsumu groans, “Osamu rags on me about suggesting matching sweaters, and the two of ya do it anyway?”

“They’re not matching,” you argue. “And it’s cute. You were just meddling.”

“It’d’ve had the same result if you’d followed my lead anyway!”

“Yeah, except if we had it your way they’d be ugly, scratchy, and unwearable.” Osamu argues. “This is classy.”

“When have you ever cared about class—?”

XVI.

You knew Atsumu and Hinata were up to something. It was pretty obvious—everyone and their mother could tell. Unfortunately for you, knowing they’re going to do something doesn’t mean you knew what it was. You find out because the co-conspirators divide and conquer and Hinata, for all his fumbling, remains incomprehensibly charismatic. 

It only really clicks when you almost slam into Osamu as Atsumu nearly shoves him into a wall before sprinting off like his life depends on it. It probably does. Giggling like a schoolgirl, all he says as he zips off is, “Thank me later!’

You yelp as Osamu nearly sends the both of you tumbling to the floor. “What the hell? Why did he do that?”

Osamu groans. “Something about ‘helping out the less fortunate.’ He thinks I’m too scared to make a move on you.”

That shocks a laugh out of you. “He has such little faith.”

It’s proven doubly true when something hits your shoulder. Osamu swipes it before it hits the ground, displaying it to you with an open palm. Plastic mistletoe, with a piece of tape dangling sadly off the edges. “You’re kidding.” 

“That scheming pig,” Osamu says with something akin to wonder, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“He couldn’t even splurge? This looks like a stick with leaves.” You pick it up, feeling along the synthetic edge of one leaf. It really is a sad thing. You show it off to Osamu, a snicker accompanying your next words, “Looks like he really thought you needed the help.”

“Well,” Osamu muses, “since he’s so kindly went through the effort, it wouldn’t hurt to finish what we started earlier, would it?” 

“Oh? You’re giving him the satisfaction?”

“Between you and me, I think I’ll be the one better off for this.” Both hands move to cup your cheeks, and you let the mistletoe fall to the ground as your own hands move to his hips. “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

You bite at the inside of your cheek, desperately fighting a smile. “No complaints here.”

He hums softly, one hand dropping to the curve of your neck. He leans in then, breath ghosting over your mouth, and kisses you. It’s a delicate thing, barely a brush of your lips before you press into it. His lips taste vaguely of cinnamon, pressing into a smile as your noses nearly collide. You grin hopelessly as well, and it’s not much of a kiss at all; you’re two idiots grinning into each other’s mouths, breathing the same air and clinging to each other and hovering awkward in the doorway to the bathroom. It’s kind of perfect.

Osamu pulls away first. “I’m going to do that again,” he tells you, matter of fact. “And if you let me, I’m gonna take you out for dinner this weekend.”

“Yeah?” You ask, features giddy with a full-body happiness; your heart beats like a drum, your fingers twitch with a physical manifestation of your affection, and you rock on your feet, leaning into him once again. “I can make myself available.”

His face softens. “Yeah.” Then he’s leaning in again, hands warm against your skin, thumb rubbing circles into your cheekbones. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re stuck with me now. Hope ya don’t mind.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say, leaning up and into him.

[profoundbondfanfic]

hello! I love this blog so much - as a new spn fan (and tumblr user) it’s a great source for good fics to read, so thank you so much for this blog!

If you do take (possibly) more specific requests for recommendations, I was wondering if you knew of any fanfics where it’s cas-centric and involves him realizing/coming to terms with his feelings for dean? I’ve read a lot of (esp post-canon) fics where it follows dean’s journey with this, but not as much with cas, especially within the context of canon. Thank you, and best wishes for this blog!!

Hey! First of all, thanks so much for the kind words, we're glad you're enjoying our blog.

Here are a few fics that fit this. We included both AUs and Canon from Cas' POV with him realizing/coming to terms with his feelings for Dean.

Canon:

Better Off by caelum_writes (Teen and Up, 7k words)

As an angel Castiel never had to think about what to wear. As a man who struggles with deep self-loathing, Dean never had to think about the idea of anyone loving him.

between sex and death and trying to keep the kitchen clean by ftmsteverogers (Explicit, 13k words)

"I don't get you," Dean spits. "I don't get what you want. Just — just tell me. I'm a big boy, I can take it." "I did tell you!" Castiel exclaims. "I told you, and then I died!"

Dean Winchester and the Belly Button Piercing by Trenchcoat_Paradigm (Explicit, 34k words)

Dean Winchester was 23 when he got his belly button pierced. It was during a time in his life when everything felt like it was in turmoil (long before he even really knew what his life being in turmoil truly meant). He never intended to go out and get any piercings—his father would have never allowed it. For 20-something years it had been his best-kept secret… that was until one fateful night when a hunt went wrong and his best friend had to swoop in and help patch him up, catching an eyeful of his elusive secret. Castiel’s infatuation with his best friend took a dangerous turn that night (not that he wasn’t already treading treacherous waters with his feelings towards the man). He had already known that Dean had a piercing, but he had no idea it was still functional, and equally had no idea that a piece of jewellery, Dean’s own slice of quiet rebellion, would have such a profound effect on him. Now Castiel can’t help but want him and his fading grace is doing very little in hiding his… indiscretions. The idea of it slowly drove him insane. And what makes it worse… Castiel was certain Dean was doing it on purpose.

restless by vipjuly (Explicit, 4k words)

Kissing Dean feels not only right, it feels important, like them kissing is another one of the events Chuck intended to come to fruition when he first created the earth and all its people.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and Up, 4k words)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

The Black Trench Coat by Yool_chan (Explicit, 22k words)

When Dean found out Castiel was working with Crowley to open Purgatory, he had no choice but to leave the angel in the ring of fire with nothing less than a broken heart. But instead of plotting against his friend, Dean takes a literal sense of fire vs fire. He decides to kill Castiel with love. Or that story where Dean convinces Castiel to look into their future to see if Castiel's plan against Raphael succeeds, only to find the world in chaos and an angel donning a black trenchcoat emerges to take Dean away.

The Law of Equivalent Exchange by awed_frog (Mature, 60k words)

“And what’s the point of it?” “Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

until the end and after by Philyra912 (Explicit, 27k words)

A year ago, the world didn't end. Now it's summer and the cicadas are buzzing, and something is changing. Something is going to give.

AU:

Dean Winchester, Straight Shooter by triedunture (Explicit, 15k words)

Dean Winchester, star of StraightShooter.com, is a gay-for-pay porn star with a huge following. Cas Novak signs on to do a scene with him, even though he dislikes "straight" porn stars on principle. But Dean is more complicated than he first appears, and after inadvertently learning his secrets, Cas finds himself falling for him.

For Evermore by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 110k words)

There's no place like home. This was a line Castiel used to know by heart when he was a kid, watching The Wizard of Oz and believing fairytales were real. At thirty-one years old, he isn't a kid anymore, and it has been twelve years since he has known what home feels like. Twelve years. That's when his world had come crashing down and he had left his hometown, Holly Springs, with the broken pieces of what he once was to build a new life in San Francisco. But as circumstances force him to come back to the only place he swore he would never return to, Castiel is finally forced to face everything he once knew and loved. Especially when said everything is made of spring-green eyes and a stardust of freckles, wrapped in all the memories Castiel was not able to erase from his heart. After twelve years, Dean is as mesmerizing as Castiel remembers, but the scars of what was broken still run as deeply as the marrow of his bones, and Castiel will do everything he can to protect himself. After all, his favorite movie also taught him that 'until hearts can be made unbreakable,' he can’t listen to his own.

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster (Explicit, 94k words)

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

Satin and Sawdust by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 159k words)

When Castiel moves out of Jimmy's house and into his own place for the first time, he saves money on buying a home by investing in a Fixer-Upper. He knows nothing about how to fix the many problems the house has, but he figures he's smart enough to figure it out. Unfortunately it's not too long before he learns that he's way in over his head. Thankfully his new neighbor Dean is a handyman, and agrees to help him out. He knows Dean has a bit of a crush on him, but he's not taking advantage of it, really. Dean's a great guy, and quickly becomes a good friend. But a flash of satin under Dean's toolbelt changes everything.

Smoke In the Mirror by letters_of_stars (Mature, 52k words)

It begins with the flier hung in the library: art model needed for thesis project, will pay. Castiel figures it's an easy way to make some extra money, but modeling for Dean Winchester ends up complicating his life far beyond anything he could have imagined.

The Prodigal Bond by vipjuly (Explicit, 68k words)

In exchange for conjugal visits, Dean Winchester gives FBI Supervisory Special Agent Castiel Novak all the dirt he needs to bring down national crime rings. It's a tit-for-tat situation; primal, animalistic, and probably ten kinds of illegal. When a case is revealed to be closer to Castiel than what he considers safe, he and Dean must work together to make sure that Crowley goes down for good. Will Castiel be able to keep Dean at arm's length, or will the charming convict finally get what he's been asking for all along? What lengths will Castiel go to... at Dean's behest?

[amethystfairy1]

🎉 Happy New Years! 🎉

It's been a loooong year so I figured I may as well make a post about it, as well as talk a bit about my plans for 2025! As you know, I tend to ramble, so this got a little long, and maybe sounds a little too much like an Oscars acceptance speech...whoopsie 😅...but from the bottom of my heart I genuinely just felt like I needed to get all these emotions that were emotion-ing today thinking about the New Year out for those of you who have played a part in giving them to me.

If you have a few minutes, please do give it a read through!

The Mushy Stuff:

Firstly, and most importantly beyond a doubt, I want to thank everyone who's been so incredibly kind and supportive of my writing this past year! Every kudos, comment, like, follow, ask, all of them have been treasured by me!

I've had a very difficult year. As I've mentioned before, I'm a full-time masters student. I also work a nearly full-time job on top of that. And while I don't like my blog to have anything to do with my train wreck of an irl life this year, let's just say it hasn't been great...lots of stuff went down, lots of things went wrong, so on and so forth.

Point is, my tippy taps have been crucial to my mental health. I started TTSBC, literally posted the first story 'Pretty Boy' on my very first day as a grad student, sitting there in the office with the knowledge that between school, work, and things happening in my own life, and I'd be having a really rough couple of years to get this degree done.

I finish in May, and I feel confident with my work, I'm ahead of the curve, I'm doing well, and I think that's in no small part because of my tippy taps. These AUs, the writing challenges, the amazing friends I've made and the little community that's somehow decided for whatever reason to form around my obsession with the block people, they've been a very big part of what's kept me going through all of this.

Knowing I could count on people to read my work, to enjoy it, that I could give someone out there something to relate too or even just make them smile if they were feeling as shitty as I was, that made me feel better. It's been so, so important to me.

So thank you. Thank you for following Through the Sky-Blue Cracks and Traveling Thieves. Thank you for screaming over my Whumptober and Febuwhump collections. Thank you for following me, for chasing me and my thoughtful Batman gif around in the asks, for playing along with my goofy-ass side blog, for commenting and kudos-ing and somehow materializing the instant a chapter goes up even before I post the tumblr notif. It means a lot more than I think any words I could come up with would convey.

I also really really really want to thank my Tinted Glass crew!

@silver-sunray This is all your fault. You started this 😤 And by that I mean you made these AUs and me screaming into the void alone so much more than that. It's because of you that I started to fight the fear, scuttle out of my shell and start actually trying to talk to others in this little online sphere. Your incredible work on the Beyond project and now in helping with my side blog and all our other plans and projects mean the world to me! You always have so much spunk and confidence whenever any ideas pop up that I suddenly feel like it's so much more is achievable thanks too you. I'm so very happy you reached out to me this year and I know so much that I've done with my writing wouldn't have happened without you 💖

@boo-the-ahh you're just the sweetest! You always make everything feel so light even when things are complicated or heavy, and you don't even know it! I love getting to work with you on the podfics and our other projects we've been plotting! You're always so full of energy and enthusiasm and encouragement that makes me feel like I can come up with the most whack-ass idea and you'll just back me up, and that's absolutely amazing! I'm so happy you reached out to me and started podficcing for me! Your work is incredible! You put in so much effort, your final products are always so beautifully polished and you always go the extra mile even when it makes things trickier. I admire that so much! And I apologize in advance for the sheer amount of my writing you're probably doomed to have to read out loud in the coming year 😅

@khoirkid You're just a marvel, in my opinion, which I know you don't share but shhhhhhhh. You come up with masterpieces at the drop of a hat, and the fact that you are willing to draw my whack-ass lil guys is still just unfathomable to me. You're always so easy to talk too and down to earth, and you're so creative and imaginative with how you weave symbols into your art with different imagery and color! I feel like half the time the stuff you come up with is so articulate and amazing that it goes over my head, but that's fine! 😆 You're so knowledgable and you have a perspective on things that helps me think things through. I love getting to work with you and I'm so very grateful for all the gorgeous illustrations, and for all the time you've given to me that's made me feel a little less alone.

All three of y'all are just so cool and supportive and talented that most of the time I don't get why you're hanging out over here and giving so much of your time and energy to these projects of mine, but I'm forever grateful that I have you as my friends. So thank you. 💜

Plans for 2025:

Ok, now that I've gotten my emotions all emotion-ed out, let's talk a little bit about my plans for the New Year!

Of course I'll still be continuing TTSBC and TT! No doubt about it! There's big things happening in both the AUs, and I'm so very excited to share them with everyone!

I'll be finishing my degree in May...to be perfectly honest, I'm still unsure of how much of a workload I'm gonna end up having academically this last semester, so I think I'll just say that if updates slow down a bit, just assume Amethyst is drowning under piles of revisions doused in red ink and a bunch of reference texts and papers due to be graded. I promise I'm not gonna just stop tippy tapping! I don't think my brain would be able to handle it if I did 😅

As far as some of the typical challenges go, I will not be participating in Febuwhump this year. I wish I could, but I know I'll definitely have too much going on academically to commit to another writing challenge...also I think Whumptober almost killed both Khoir and I, and we don't need to be doing that again anytime soon 😵‍💫 I'm still gonna check out the prompt list, and if I see a few prompts that I find particularly intriguing maybe I'll write those up, and do a few of the days, but I won't be doing the full writing challenge.

Jury is still out on Hermit-a-Day May, which I'm hopeful will be running again this year! I'd love to do it, but I'll have to make that later, once I know for certain how my workload is feeling since I'll be doing my final revisions, my defense, all that good stuff in late April, which is when I'd typically be working up my fics for Hermit-a-Day May.

I will be doing Whumptober. No questions about it!

I have a few other Hermit/Traffic/Empires fanfic projects on the back burner that I'm working on here or there whenever I need to take a lil break from TTSBC and TT. One of them is a project that all of the Tinted Glass Crew is working on together, and while I don't wanna give spoilers, I'll just say that it's going to be a ton of fun! It's unlike any other AU or one-off I've ever done before, and even just brainstorming it has been incredible so please look forward to it!

I also have my original series. Which...I haven't talked about, not really. I'm pretty nervous about putting it out there, to be honest, but it's my baby and I've been working on it for over four years now. It's written in a similar style to TTSBC and TT, that is, focused on queer romance and found family in a ton of stories all organized in chronological order and written up and down on a timeline. One of my big hopes for this year is to finally share this series. I dunno where yet, or when...it'll definitely wait until after I finish my degree in May, that much is for certain, but I suppose I just wanted to prime everyone. The Tinted Glass Crew has already been so amazingly kind as to agree to help me find a way to get this story that's so dear to me out to all of y'all someway somehow...and I'm confident if I have those guys on my team we'll figure it out! 😅

I hope, if you've enjoyed TTSBC and TT and any of my other work, you'll at least give my original blorbos a shot whenever they are freed from their little cage in my notebooks and save files. They're not so different from the way I write my MCYT characters, they're a bunch of big gay idiots with personality issues, a ton of tangled up secrets, and more trauma than you can shake a stick at...and they're mine, which means I really like to put them through the wringer. 😆 But after everything I've done over this past year and even further back here on this blog, on A03, and in this little community, I feel like maybe they might find themselves a home in at least some of your hearts...or maybe just piss you off with their poor life decisions and accidentally give you brainrot, who knows.

Anyway, this has been a lot. Sorry I tend to ramble...all of this is just to say thank you. I had a lot of fun this year, getting to share my stories with all of you, and I hope you'll continue to support me as I tippy tap my way into the New Year!

-Amethyst

[etherealyoungk]

— ✦ etherealyoungk's 2024 rewind!

i saw this going around so i thought i'd hop onto it and do a little appreciation post for 2024! this is going to contain my top fics, some stats, goals for 2025 and a little paragraph for all my lovely moots on here <3

— top three posts this year!

into the night - jeon wonwoo (with 1918 notes)

sugar & spice - jeon wonwoo (with 1536 notes)

new beginnings - jeon wonwoo (with 1287 notes) honestly didn't think people would like this concept so much haha and not all the top three being wonwoo fics lol.

— longest fic of 2024:

sugar & spice - wc: 29.2k

— shortest fic 2024:

wonwoo fluff drabble - wc: 438

— an unexpected fic in 2024:

love between the lines - chwe vernon (wc: 12k) i genuinely really enjoyed writing this fic. vernon isn't a member i write for often or find a little hard to write, so this was a nice challenge. i honestly don't thing i'd ever have written a long fic for vernon if it wasn't for the collab and i'm so glad i joined and wrote this because i had great fun with it and really happy with the outcome + seeing so many of you guys enjoy it makes me always happy ^^

— some of my fav reads:

tell me that you love me pt 1 & pt 2 by @wheeboo one of the best fics i've read this year honestly this was tooo good like THE joshua fic so everyone go read this right now.

what's wrong with secretary kim with soonyoung by @xinganhao this was the cutest fucking thing i've read and i need more ahhhhhh kae your work is top tier i love it sm.

rates of change by @wqnwoos hana i'm literally in love with you and your writing and ths fic was the cutest thing ever i adored every word and ate it up.

ex-conomics by @ugh-yoongi oml this fic was so fucking good i read it in one go on my bed and it was such an emotional rollarcoaster but you wrote it so well everything was just so so amazing one of my favs for sure.

here and now by @writingmeraki babe im in love with your spy gyu couple im not even kidding when i say i go reread this often like i love it so much okay and i love you.

burnt promises, second chances by @slytherinshua omg zanna please this fic it was so good you wrote it so so well i just loved everything about this and the concept was so cool too!

— milestones in 2024

writng an almost 30k fic bc that is insane to me i never thought i could do that but im so proud of that fic.

hitting 4.5k followers just before the year ends! that's honestly insaneee. i adore each and everyone who reads my work and leaves reblogs and feedback.

joining collabs and doing a collab for the first time was so new but also so exciting for me. hopefully in 2025 i can do more.

— goals for 2025

finishing all my incomplete wips!!! i really really want to finish all the wips i started and left hanging skgjsg bc they were really good ideas and i wanna put them out in the world for you guys to read as well!

try to interact with you guys more? i feel like i don't enough.

— a word to my mutuals <3

to all my mutuals i love and adore you guys so much and i still can't believe i'm actually friends with some of you insane guys i love yall so much and i love this silly little family i have on here, it means the world to me <3

@wheeboo rania i love talking to you and love how i can just come in your dms and be delusional and bounce off ideas with you. i love talking to you about anything and everything. you're seriously one of the best writers and i can't wait to see where 2025 takes us.

@fairyhaos yenaaa my love! i love talking to you and you're the sweetest and your fics are always so so good. i miss you but i hope you're doing well and taking care and uni isn't too hectic. always thinking about you fondly and sending hugs mwah mwahh

@writingmeraki pri the loml my wife i love you so so much. i love how became moots bc of this one post of yours and after that it's history and i just love talking to you about anything and how we just talk about anything and everything <3 i just love us so much. mwah mwah mwahhhhh

@strawberri-uyu nico my love! our convos are honestly the best and i miss you and i hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself bubs <3

@paindivinemp3 my dear maria! you're the sweetest soul ever and i love talking to you about life and things and it's always so nice to talk to you, it always feels like i'm talking to an elder sister 🥺 sending much love <3

@wqnwoos hana i literally adore you and your writing so so much and you're the sweetest kindest soul mwah mwah ily <3

@gyuswhore you're the coolest moot! you're so so talented, an amazing person and just the coolest!!

@jeonsupershy kashii i love talking to you about day6 and seventeen and i adore your gifs they're truly amazing and im so glad we got talking.

@ylangelegy kae omg i love your work it's so good especially your text imagines im in loveeee and plus i know we only started talking but it's so nice to meet another myday and carat and hopefully we talk more!

@gyubakeries tiyaa i love how you text me on discord and we have the most funny convos.

@fxstpace aspen omg new moot but you're so much fun to talk to i hope we talk get to talk more.

and all my other lovely moots that i adore: @blue-jisungs @slytherinshua @kyeomyun @hannyoontify

@weird-bookworm @lvlystars @icyminghao @cheolhub @rubywonu

if i missed anyone im so sorry but just know you guys are so loved by me!

@reikaryu @husbandhoshi @welcometomyoasis @babyleostuff

@odxrilove @holdinbacksecrets @husbandhoshi @naaaaafla

[joysansworld]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ hey lovely’s! This is my first time ever writing so bear with me on this one! I would love any and all feedback so feel free to share! (I’m also still trying to figure out how to use tumblr so I’d love some tips for that as well ._.) anyways here’s a a quick little story of an idea I had earlier I hope you enjoy! ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Summary: You and Nanami Kento had been coworkers at jujutsu tech for a while. Overtime you had both developed a sort of friendship, you found that you both had a lot of the same interests and got along great, but your relationship never extended outside of just work friends. That was until everyone had gone out for drinks for Gojos birthday and he had a little too much to drink causing him to share some secrets he didn’t want shared.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

It was 7pm. I was getting ready to go to a local bar to celebrate Gojos birthday with everybody from work. I put on a simple black dress and some black boots with a brown overcoat since it was cold out being that it was December. Once I was done getting ready I picked up my phone to text Nanami to let him know I was good for him to come pick me up whenever he was ready. We had decided to carpool there together since we figured it would be easier for the both of us since we could only handle so much of Gojo at one time and figured we’d both end up leaving early anyways. My phone screen lit up as I read the message i received from him. “Okay I’ll head over now. -Kento”. I headed to the living room in my apartment and grabbed my purse, getting one last look of myself in the entryway mirror, smoothing out my hair and making sure everything looked right. As I waited for him to pull up I couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of nervousness. Not that I had any reason to, but I had to admit that I grown fond of Nanami. We had been working together for a while and although we continued to stay just friends, I couldn’t help but begin to feel something more for him. We got along great and shared the same interests, talking about whatever books we were reading at the time never got old. And the coffee breaks we’d take together or the fresh bread he’d bring me every morning when he stopped at the bakery, it all led to me falling for him. But I had long since shoved those feelings down, not wanting to ruin our friendship and also not wanting to jeopardize anything at work, our job was dangerous after all and the last thing anyone needed was unnecessary feelings getting in the way. Just as I was about to go further into deep thought, the sound of a car door shutting brought me back to reality. I looked out my window to see Nanami approaching my from door. I smoothed out my dress hastily before I heard the doorbell sound, I opened the door and was greeted with his familiar warm smile. “Hey, you ready to go?” He asked. “As ready as I possibly can be.” I said with a sigh shaking my head slightly, stepping out of the doorway and closing it behind me. “You can never prepare yourself for Gojo unfortunately.” He said with a light chuckle.

As we headed to his car, he walked over to my side and opened the door for me. I said a quiet thank you before sitting in the passenger seat. Of course I couldn’t help the feeling of butterflies in my stomach as he walked around to his side of the car, but I shoved all of that down as he got in. “So how long are we planning on staying tonight?” I asked him as he pulled out of the driveway and began the short drive to the bar. “Well i figured we stay about an hour, that gives him enough time to get drunk and allows us to make our escape without him complaining too much.” He said with a small grin on his face. I let out a laugh as I responded “yeah no that sounds like a great plan, let’s just hope it doesn’t make him more dramatic and then we have to pry him off of us while he wails dramatically.” I said jokingly rolling my eyes. Once we reached the bar, Nanami had gotten out of the car to open my door and provided a hand to help me out. As we walked into the bar together we immediately spotted the group. Gojo, Geto, shoko, and haibara were all already there. Shoko waved us over eagerly, as we walked towards them Gojo finally spotted us, turning around with his massive grin plastered on his face. “Well look who finally decided to show up! I thought you guys forgot about me there for a second!” He said sarcastically as he raised up his arms in false offense. “Oh don’t worry Gojo we could never, you’re too unforgettable.” I said with a smile, rolling my eyes. “Aw you’re too kind.” He said with a grin. I wished him happy birthday and took my seat next to Shoko. Nanami had sat in the other side of me where he sat next to Haibara. Both of us had ordered drinks and began talking to our friends. I wasn’t really feeling drinking that night so I continued to sip on my one glass of wine throughout the whole night. Despite that I still had a lot of fun, me and shoko gossiped about a little bit of everything while Gojo of course had too much to drink and began terrorizing everyone close by. Geto following close behind him practically babysitting him. Nanami had walked off somewhere with haibara awhile ago, so me and shoko continued talking.

I was just in the middle of saying something to her when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turn around to see a man I didn’t know standing behind me. A sleazy grin on his face and very obviously intoxicated. “Hey sweetness, mind if I buy you a drink?” He said slurring his words slightly. I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and gave him a tight lipped smile as I replied, “no thank you, I’m actually all done for the night.” But that didn’t ward him off since his then leaned against the bar table and leaned in awkwardly close to me. “Oh come on, I’ve been watching you all night and you’ve hardly had anything, just let me get you a little something at least?” Scooting away from him, now visibly uncomfortable I grimaced at him as I replied. “Really I’m okay thank you.” I replied dryly as I turned back to shoko trying to ignore him. That was until he grabbed my shoulder again, harsher this time, spinning me around to face him. “Hey I don’t take kindly to being ignored especially by sluts like you.” He practically spat out in anger. Before shoko could even get words out of her mouth to defend me, there was suddenly a very large figure being shoved in between me and the creep. It didn’t take long for me to realize that it was a very upset Nanami standing in between us. “Hey what the hell man?” I heard being yelled out by the other man. Nanami had shoved him back, clearly infuriated. “You need to get the fuck away from her. Now.” He spat out in utter anger. “Listen I don’t know who the hell you are, but this isn’t your problem buddy so you need to get out of my way so I can finish the conversation I was having.” The creep said as he got in Nanamis face poking his chest. “It didn’t look like much of a conversation to me, so I think you should leave.” Nanami said almost too calmly. Wait was he drunk? The closer I looked the more I saw his flushed face, probably a mix of the alcohol and anger. He never acted like this either. “I don’t think you heard me clearly, I’m not done dealing with this bitch so you-“ he didn’t even finish his sentence before Nanami punched him right in the face. Everyone in the bar collectively gasping as they all looked over at the scene. “Don’t you dare fucking talk to her like that you piece of shit!” He yelled out as he towered over the man who was now on the floor with a very bloody and definitely broken nose, just as he was about to go for another hit, Geto and haibara got in between them and shoved Nanami back. Coming more to his senses after a few moments he turned to face me, placing his hands on my shoulders gently, looking me over. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He said his tone laced with concern. My eyes were still wide with utter shock as I shook my head. “No-no I’m fine. Kento why did you-?” He interrupted me before I could finish, taking on a more serious tone. “He disrespected you. And no one should ever treat you like that, you are an incredible woman, someone who is only worthy of respect, and I’ll be damned if someone treats you like that.” I felt the blush heat up my cheeks. His words caused my own to catch in my throat. I then felt his hand on my cheek, his touch light. “You deserve only the utmost respect, and you deserve a man who treats you like the kind, loving, angel that you are. You are too wonderful, too great to be treated as low as that. And I’m never going to let that happen to you.” He said as he looked directly into my eyes, emotion evident in them. I was at a complete loss for words and still in utter shock as my body stayed completely still. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol making him say all of this or what, but it made my heart race.

Just as I was about to say something back the owner of the bar had asked us to leave, and rightfully so. The man who layed on the floor was being tended to staring daggers at Nanami. As we all walked out of the bar shoko wrapped her arm around me and began laughing “you know I think after experiencing whatever just happened, I think it’s safe to say Nanami has a little bit of a thing for you.” I immediately looked over at him to see if he heard that, he was to busy being surrounded by Gojo and the others who were all praising him for what he did. “Shoko shut up!” I said elbowing her playfully. “Hey I’m just saying I think it’s painfully obvious.” And with that we all stood outside by our cars. Geto was driving Gojo home and haibara was leaving with shoko, so that left me to take nanami home, since I’d definitely be the one driving tonight. The walk to the car was silent, as we got in and I adjusted the drivers seat and started the car, I could feel him looking at me. “I’m sorry for causing such a scene tonight, but I couldn’t stand how he was talking to you.” He said calmly. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it I totally get it and if anything I’m glad you did it. He was a huge creep and I don’t know what would’ve happened if you wouldn’t have come when you did.” I said keeping my eyes on the road ahead. “I care about you, I really do. Maybe more than I should.” I heard him say, the last part almost a whisper. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as i pulled up into my driveway. “I care about you too Ken” I said looking down as I put the car in park, feeling incredibly nervous. “I know I probably shouldn’t confess this now but I’m going to do it while I have the courage. Over time, I’ve learned that I have fallen for you. I know we’re just friends and I understand completely if you don’t feel the same but I can’t help it anymore. You’re kind heart and beautiful personality, the way you brighten up every room you walk into. Whenever I’m having a horrid day at work and you magically come by to tell me something stupid you saw Gojo do, it makes me feel better in ways that it shouldn’t. The work we do is awful and draining, and for awhile I didn’t have a reason. But then you came into my life, with your witty sarcasm and love for classic books which still shocks me to this day. But you gave me reason, and it was then, when I realized I had fallen for you and there was no going back for me. And I understand if you don’t feel the same but I had to let you know.” And for a moment there was just silence between us. As we sat there looking back at each other. Until I finally spoke up, “Kento, you have no idea how good it feels to hear that. Because I do feel the same way, I have for awhile I just, never wanted to say anything in fear it would ruin our friendship. But you did the same for me, you’ve become a light in this dreadful job and I, well I feel the same way.” I said quietly. I could feel my heart beating wildly against my chest as we just looked at each other for a moment. He reached his hand to cup my face gently, rubbing his thumb across my cheek lightly. I melted into his touch immediately, as i continued to look at him I moved without even thinking. Closing the distance between us as I placed my lips on his own. It didnt take long for him to kiss me back. Our mouths moving in sync with equal fervor and emotion. Once we pulled away from each other he rested his forehead on my own. “I hate that this all happened the way it did but I am thankful it happened. But let me take you on a real date, let me pick you up and take you to a nice dinner no bars or anything like that, what do you say?” He asked. And I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face as i answered him “yeah, id love that kento. How about tomorrow night?”

(This was terrible lmao, posting it because I spent way too long on it, feel free to flame me for this😭)

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Regional Music?

Slight Vincent x Ancient!Reader with no established relationship, just interest on Vince’s part. It’s just a headcanon, not an actual fic here but I enjoyed writing it. No smut here. Literally. For once.

This was an idea I had been sitting on for quite some time but not something I was going to turn into a big thing. But the regional music has me in a chokehold and wouldn’t it be cool if one could hear the planet in a far different manner? Maybe an Ancient who hears/feels negative and positive shifts in an area through the music thrumming faintly in the back of their head? The volume and sensation of the beat under your feet increases in battle or any disruptions within the region around you. This of course means you have a limited range and the regional music never overlaps. It can be helped to guide you in the right direction, or on occasion into some of the most grueling battles that would’ve been better off being avoided. Heightened emotions can also have an effect. Reader has a fighting style similar to Tifa’s. Materia use won’t be traditional for you either. Let’s take from the FF8 draw and junction system and tweak it a bit (simplify the shit out of it) and Yes I’m going to be lazy about when reader joins the party because my creativity isn’t sparking for backstory. 

****

Vincent had been quite a bit intrigued by you since the moment you joined the party. At first he was skeptical, as most were. Upon hearing your need to seek out Hojo and wipe him from existence, Vincent’s mind changed. He still hadn’t disclosed the full history between himself and the madman, what he learned from you seemed just as bad. There was no way to put on a scale had it the worst from Hojo, anyone that came in contact with him suffered a similar fate. Your capabilities were proven to be of no use to Shinra. Once rendered useless, you were cast into the shadows, only being taken care of enough to keep you alive as one of Hojo’s playthings. The years spent in his lab was a period filled with torture.

You seemed to be more of a loner than himself, another thing that gravitated him to you. Often scouting regions on your own, disappearing without a word only to come back with materials or bruised and bloody. In time he became the sole person to take care of you in the case you came back injured. Vincent easily was your go to for this, the fussing others would do over you was off putting and at times annoying. Getting hurt came with the territory, shouldn’t be a big deal. Only once Vincent made the mistake of chiding you for going out on your own to get into who knows what, immediately silencing himself as he was met with a glare. You were too injury prone for his liking. Knowing you were too hard headed to listen to anyone's advice, Vincent began going on these outings with you, training you along the way to reduce your chances of getting hurt. You were a great fighter, but you fought with so much energy you were a threat to yourself.

Speaking of fighting. The way you moved was like a dance to Vincent. Graceful yet powerful, pure raw energy exuding from you that was so contagious it boosted Vincent in battle. To say he loved the way you had no problem getting in the face of your opponent was an understatement. At times he felt as though he lived for it, you moved to your own beat at all times. Mesmerizing in his eyes with the way your intensity and style would change every now and then. Notably when they reached different areas of Gaia. 

Eventually Vincent felt inclined to ask why your fighting style is never consistent for very long. He knew you were an Ancient from what you told him of your past, but he hadn’t considered that one would be in tune with the planet in a vastly different way. Not in the form of music. He almost thought you were teetering on delusional had it not made perfect sense when he thought about your mannerisms on the field. Your uncanny sense of forewarning saved them many times.

“Even the towns have songs. They go along with the history, flora, fauna, and current residents of the town. The songs are created from energy held within the lands from things that have happened over time.” Vincent could hear you talk about this for the rest of his life, or well, the rest of your life. Everything about you was different, even the way you used materia. Instead drawing the power from it, the magic channeled through your hand to the rest of your body. It also happened by accident, holding any materia caused it to fuse with you, like you were a blackhole for magic. You never know exactly where it gets stored, just that you’re able to summon it as needed. The amount of power drawn from various materia increases the level of damage or healing you’re capable of. While you can use magic at any given time, the less materia you’ve stripped, the less effective your magic would be. Drawing was a necessity for you in order to keep up any worthwhile capabilities. This doesn't translate onto Summon materia.

Vincent wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a horrifying warning, but the presence of Sephiroth evoked a nerve racking tune. One of the most complex you’ve heard thus far, the only sound that riddled you with fear. “That is not human, whatever he is supposed to be, is one that should not exist.” Being in the presence of the robed men sent, what you had dubbed the, One Winged Angel, spiraling in your mind. It was blaring, menacing, it was a warning that nothing other than pure destruction was imminent. No person came with a song, the exception being Sephiroth. What kind of energy could one possess to have such an imposing theme, one that would make the strongest of people coward. It riddled you with anxiety, more or less shaking you to the core. There was something else to it, pain. The pain was evident as the music boomed in your head. Always loud, intense, making you want nothing more than to shut out the entire world until you were the only one left. Remember, you can get a feel of Sephiroth’s history through his song, the longer you hear it, the more you understand him. He’s hurt by this world, leading Sephiroth the being the shell of himself he once was, becoming the tormentor to the world for treating him so cruelly. 

You were an enigma alright, somehow getting Vincent to understand the wonders of the planet through music he wasn’t capable of hearing himself. How was he to keep himself from falling in love with you?

[midnight-mourning]

Stave off the Cold

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 24❄️❄️

guhhh i went a LIL angsty for part of this, but you'll like it dw, it'll be worth it in the end ;) hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Perhaps post ruin, since its snowing so hard the power goes out. Yn and ruin snuggling to stave off the cold and are sappy together or something along those lines. ^-^

Word Count: 1313

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You're in the middle of the most delicate of work when it happens. The lights cut, and you curse, almost dropping the new CPU chip in the dark. Carefully, with another slew of curse—that probably wouldn't have been approved if they'd hear—you step back and search for your workbench, setting down the chip and pulling out your phone. 

Flashing it to the window, you can see the snowstorm blowing outside. That must've done it. Great. Just great. 

You glance over to the bot lying motionless on the table, heart twisting at the sight. You've been working for months to fix them, you knew there had to be way, knew that somewhere they still had to be in there. The fact that you'd been able to charge their body and get their limbs to move independently proved that. 

You rub your face and check the time, you could still work in this, as long as there was still some heat in here. The power had to come back on eventually, right?

You search for your lantern, finding it and lighting, hanging it from the ceiling above. Once everything's settled, towels stuff under the old door to help keep heat from leaking out, you get back to work. 

When you'd found them, having decided to take a look through the long abandoned Plex, you'd been horrified at their condition. Tattered clothes and broken parts, that's what remained of your beloved attendant. You remember cradle their cracked faceplate in your hand, tears welling up at the thought that'd they shut down alone, afraid, not knowing where they'd wake up again. 

That had been back in the fall, it was the dead of winter now and progress had been progressing best you could. You weren't well versed in this type of thing, you were relying on videos and online forums to guide your progress. And you were just hoping and praying you were doing all this correctly. 

You'd started with the surface level damaged and worked your way in, scrounging the Plex for spare parts and replacements. Anything you couldn't find you'd snatch up in eBay auctions or the likes. 

With tender love and care, you rebuilt your attendant back into the bot you loved. You just finished repairing Sun's rays the other day, but you kept Moon's hat on him, something about the look going along with their mismatched pants. 

Now all that was left was the hard stuff, the internal components. 

So much of their inner workings had been fried, smashed, or damaged in some other capacity. You'd feared for the worst, truthfully. Having to accept that they may actually be gone for good. It was something that haunted you for weeks before you finally bit the bullet and opened up their head. 

You had teared up a bit when you found their hard drive was in perfect condition, letting out a cheer loud enough to probably disturb your neighbors. 

Your hands are shaking now, you realize. Shivering, your shivering. You check the time again, it's already been two hours. But, you argue, it's not that cold yet. You can keep going, keeping working, keep fixing. Keep saving. 

You have to. You have to do it for them. 

You take short breaks every now and then, warming your hands on their casing. They may not be awake, but at least they're alive. 

Your breath is showing up in front of you now, your fingers feel stiff, but still, you keep going. You just have one final thing to do, give them a reset. 

Your legs hurt as you stand, walking up to where their head rests. You pull out the Faz wrench you'd found on your last trip to the Plex. A find that had you dancing around the abandoned building like an idiot. 

With a shaky grip, you insert it and turn, waiting with bated breath. 

Nothing happens. 

You step back, waiting a solid two minutes for the attendant to sit up, either AI greeting you like how you've been waiting six months for them to do. 

But they don't. 

You feel too tired and too cold to cry. Just a feeling of utter defeat overtaking you. Your head feels heavy, so do your eyelids. Maybe you just need to take a nap, and you can figure this out afterwards. 

You climb back up onto the table, laying down on the warm but empty shell of your attendant. Curling up, you pull your coat tighter around yourself and close your eyes. 

As you start to drift off, you swear you feel a shift underneath you, something laying on top of your body. 

You have a strange dream. 

In it, you're being carried through the snow by something. It has two bright eyes, one red, one white, with spikes coming off its head, and a blue hat. It speaks to you, murmuring sweet nothings that you can't recall. 

When you wake up on your couch, you realize it wasn't a dream. You go to get up, but a firm grip around your waist prevents you from doing so. Looking down, you realize your laying on top of Sun, or, Moon? You don't know, you don't care, because it clicks to you that his eyes are open and he's looking at you and he's awake—

"Hello, Starlight. We missed you."

Your voice is just a whisper. "You're awake... You're okay."

Before he can say anything, you wrap your arms around him, kissing his faceplate over and over. 

"I, I thought you guys were gone. That, that it wouldn't work, that I had to live without you." You're crying now. "I, I can't believe you're actually here."

"Silly Star. We never left." A shift in tone. "We were right there with you, Sunbeam!"

You realize what they mean. "Oh god. That means you heard all of that."

"You mean all your lovely conversations with us? Your laughter, your beautiful singing?" They take your hand, pressing it to their faceplate. "Because if so, the answer is yes."

You feel your face heat up and not knowing what else to do bury it against their neck as they laugh. 

"How awful." You mumble. 

They pet your hair for a few moments, fingers staying laced in it as you sit back up to look at them. 

You trace your hand down the side of their face, taking it all in. "I can't believe it, after all this time. Picked a terrible time to wake up. Can't even give you a proper tour of the place with the power out."

You start to get up, wanting to go grab a lamp, but they immediately pull you back down, arms firmly around you. 

"No leaving. Too cold. Stay here, we'll keep you warm."

You give in rather easily, especially when their hands start to explore just under your shirt, snickering at how you tense up. 

You scowl at them, taking their faceplate in both hands and leaning down so your foreheads are touching. "How did you two manage to get worse?"

Just another chuckle in response, their eyes nothing but thin, devious crescents. 

You kiss them then, soft, sweet. And then you do it again, and again. 

As you kiss, you feel the blanket you'd shoved off in your excitement be placed back over you both, adding to the warmth and coziness between you. 

You have to break away for a moment, panting ever so slightly. 

They tilt their head, watching you keenly. A thumb comes up to swipe against your lip. 

You smirk. "Thanks."

They nod. 

"I really missed you, you know?" You lay your head against their chest, listening to how with every tick and click and whirl, it's a sign that they're really there with you. They're actually home. 

Their hand comes up to stroke your hair, other arm snug against your hip. 

"We missed you too."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you @rosescarletful for the request! I had a bit of fun with it as you can see, very much enjoyed the concept your prompt allowed me to think up :)

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