#I just... I talked to them again and realized that I took that one thing to mean ''everyone hates you and is just pretending to be nice''

[s4kura-tr3]

Could you make a crybaby reader with JJK men? Like just an overly sensitive/nice reader? It’s okay if not! Have a good day!

Sensitive!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru never meant to upset you—he rarely ever did. But today, his usual playful teasing hit you harder than usual.

You were sitting on the couch together, scrolling through your phone while he flipped lazily through the channels on the TV. Out of nowhere, Gojo chuckled and said, “You know, you’re so dramatic sometimes. It’s kinda cute, but it’s like everything’s the end of the world for you.”

You froze, his words hitting a nerve. Dramatic. That’s how people had dismissed your feelings for years. You tried to brush it off, but your chest tightened, and your vision blurred slightly as you blinked back tears.

Gojo didn’t notice at first, still flipping channels and humming to himself. But when you didn’t respond with your usual witty comeback, he glanced over and saw your downturned face.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up immediately. “Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check.

“Hey,” he said more gently now, setting the remote down. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Finally, you looked at him, your voice quiet. “You called me dramatic. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? It’s like every time I feel something, people just… dismiss me.”

Gojo’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “Oh no. No, no, no, that’s not what I meant,” he said, scooting closer to you on the couch. “I wasn’t trying to dismiss you. I swear, I just—ugh, sometimes I don’t think before I speak.”

You didn’t reply, still feeling the sting of his words.

Gojo reached for your hands, holding them in his warm, large ones. “I’m really sorry,” he said softly. “You’re not dramatic. You just feel things deeply, and I love that about you. It’s one of my favorite things about you, actually. You care so much, and that’s rare. Honestly, I wish I was more like you sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

“I mean it,” he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that wasn’t a good thing. It is. You’re amazing, and I’m lucky you put up with my dumb jokes.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite your lingering hurt. “You really think that?”

Gojo grinned, his usual playful energy returning as he kissed your knuckles. “I think you’re perfect. And I’m perfectly terrible at saying things the right way. Forgive me?”

You sighed, the weight in your chest easing. “Okay. But maybe think before you speak next time?”

“Deal,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll even let you pick the movie tonight as a peace offering. But only if it’s not boring.”

You laughed softly, and just like that, Gojo had you smiling again, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

Geto Suguru

It was late in the evening, and you and Geto Suguru were sitting together in a cozy café. He had insisted on taking you out to unwind after a long week, and for a while, the warm atmosphere and his gentle company had done just that. But then, the conversation took an unexpected turn.

You were talking about a project you’d been working on—how much effort you’d put into it and how nervous you were about how it would turn out. Somewhere in the middle of your rambling, Geto chuckled softly and said, “You really overthink things sometimes, don’t you?”

His tone was light, and you knew he didn’t mean it maliciously, but the comment stopped you in your tracks. Your heart sank, and your chest tightened as those familiar insecurities reared their heads. You looked down at your tea, your appetite for conversation disappearing.

Geto immediately noticed the shift in your mood. He tilted his head, his dark eyes softening with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, leaning closer.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “Did I say something wrong?”

You hesitated, but his steady gaze encouraged you to speak. “It’s just… when you said I overthink things. I know I do, okay? I hear it all the time, and I hate that about myself. It feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough, and people just see me as… too much.”

Geto’s expression shifted immediately, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “Hey, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity.

You looked away, but he gently reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone warm and steady. “I wasn’t trying to say that in a bad way. I know you overthink because you care. You care so much about everything, and that’s not a flaw—it’s a strength.”

You blinked at him, his words catching you off guard.

“You put your whole heart into what you do, and yeah, sometimes it makes you nervous or unsure, but that’s only because you want things to be perfect,” he continued. “And honestly? That’s one of the things I admire most about you. I could never think of that as a bad thing.”

The tightness in your chest began to ease as his words sank in. “You really mean that?” you asked softly.

Geto smiled gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Of course I do. And I’m sorry if what I said made you feel like I didn’t. I’ll be more careful with my words next time.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you.”

He chuckled softly. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job to remind you how amazing you are when you forget.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and the tension that had settled between you melted away.

“Now,” he said, his tone lightening as he leaned back in his chair, “how about I make it up to you with dessert? I hear they’ve got a mean matcha cheesecake here.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

“Always,” he said with a playful smirk, raising his hand to call for the waiter.

Nanami Kento

Nanami Kento had had an exhausting day. Every step he took up the stairs to your shared apartment felt heavier than the last, and all he wanted was to come home, see you, and let the warmth of your presence melt away the stress.

When he opened the door, you greeted him with your usual enthusiasm, rushing over to pull him into a tight hug. “Kento! You’re home!” you exclaimed, your excitement practically radiating off you.

He managed a small smile and placed a hand on your back, but the weight of his day still hung over him. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice tired.

You didn’t seem to notice his exhaustion as you began talking a mile a minute. “I missed you! You won’t believe the day I had—oh, and guess what? I tried that recipe you love, and I think it turned out amazing! Oh, and Louis did the funniest thing today—”

“Can you give me a second?” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

The room fell silent, and the warmth in your expression dimmed instantly. You stepped back, your arms falling to your sides. “Oh,” you said softly. “Sorry.”

Nanami immediately felt a pang of regret as he saw the hurt in your eyes. You weren’t upset because he was tired—you were upset because he’d made you feel like your excitement didn’t matter to him.

You turned away, mumbling something about letting him settle in, but he quickly reached out and gently grabbed your hand. “Wait,” he said, his voice softer now.

You hesitated, looking at him but avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault I had a hard day. I… I was looking forward to seeing you all day, and then I let my frustration get in the way.”

You blinked, your lips trembling slightly. “I just wanted to make you happy,” you admitted quietly.

“And you do,” he said immediately, stepping closer to you. “You’re the best part of my day. Always.”

Your eyes met his then, searching his face for the truth in his words. His expression was soft, full of remorse and affection.

“I don’t deserve to have you greet me with so much love after the way I acted,” he said, gently pulling you into his arms. “But I promise I’ll do better. You’re everything to me, and I should have treated you like it.”

You rested your forehead against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you. “I just got too excited,” you murmured.

“And I love that about you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Your excitement, your energy—it’s what makes this place feel like home. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate it like I should’ve.”

For a moment, you stood there in his embrace, his warmth and steady heartbeat easing the lingering hurt.

“Do you want to sit down and tell me about your day?” he asked after a moment, pulling back slightly to look at you. “I want to hear everything.”

You hesitated, then nodded, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Okay. But only if you let me heat up dinner for you first.”

He chuckled softly. “Deal. But don’t rush—just being here with you is enough.”

And as you led him to the table, the weight of his day began to lift, replaced by the comfort of knowing he was home—with you.

Toji fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t the type to watch his words. His bluntness was just part of who he was—sharp, quick, and sometimes careless. Most of the time, you brushed it off, knowing he didn’t mean to hurt you. But tonight, it cut deeper than usual.

The two of you were in the kitchen after dinner. You were putting away dishes, humming softly, while Toji leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, watching you.

“I’ve been thinking about trying something new,” you said, your tone excited. “Like a cooking class or maybe painting—something creative. I think it could be fun.”

Toji grunted in response, not looking up from the dish he was drying.

You hesitated but kept going, trying to draw him into the conversation. “What do you think? Would you want to try something like that with me?”

Toji sighed and set the dish down a little too hard, the sound making you flinch. “You don’t stick with stuff like that, do you?” he said, his voice flat. “You get all excited and then drop it a week later. What’s the point?”

You froze, his words hitting harder than you expected. You knew he had a point—sometimes you did lose interest in things quickly. But hearing him say it so bluntly, so dismissively, made your chest tighten.

“I…” Your voice wavered as you set the plate in your hands on the counter. “I just thought it’d be nice to do something together.”

Toji finally looked up, his brows furrowing when he saw the way your shoulders slumped. “Hey, don’t get all upset about it,” he said, his tone softening, but it didn’t help.

“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, though the slight tremble in your voice betrayed you. “I just… never mind.”

You turned away, trying to hide the tears that were already welling up, but Toji wasn’t one to let things go.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now as he stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, but when you tried to brush past him, he caught your wrist gently.

“Look at me,” he said firmly, his tone still low but insistent. You hesitated, and when you finally met his gaze, he could see the hurt in your eyes.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his grip on your wrist loosening. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You didn’t have to say it at all,” you whispered. “You make me feel like I’m… not good at anything.”

Toji’s jaw tightened, guilt flashing across his face. He wasn’t good at this—at saying the right things or fixing mistakes—but he hated seeing you like this, especially when he was the one who caused it.

“You’re good at plenty of things,” he said, his tone softer now. “And… I’m an idiot for saying that to you. I wasn’t trying to put you down. I just… I don’t know how to say things without sounding like a jerk sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he admitted after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “The cooking class or whatever. And I’d do it with you if that’s what you want.”

“You don’t have to just say that,” you murmured.

“I’m not just saying it,” he said, stepping closer until he could wrap his arms around you. “You’re trying to do something fun, and instead of supporting you, I ran my mouth like an idiot. I’m sorry.”

His arms around you were warm and steady, and you could feel the sincerity in the way he held you.

“You’d really go with me?” you asked, your voice still small.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Even if I suck at it, I’d go. For you.”

Your lips quirked up into a small smile, the sting of his earlier words starting to fade. “Okay,” you said softly, leaning into his chest.

Toji smirked, holding you a little tighter. “Good. But don’t expect me to wear an apron or anything. That’s where I draw the line.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the room, and he sighed in relief, grateful to see your smile again.

Sukuna Ryomen

The Heian era was a time of beauty and chaos, and life with Sukuna Ryomen was no exception. Known as the King of Curses, Sukuna was feared across the land, but to you, he was something else entirely. His presence, though intimidating, had always been a source of strange comfort. However, his sharp tongue often betrayed him, and tonight was one of those nights.

You had spent the entire day crafting something special—a delicate embroidered cloth featuring patterns of crimson and gold, colors you knew he favored. Each stitch was precise, your fingers aching by the time you finished, but the thought of presenting it to Sukuna filled you with anticipation.

When you brought the finished piece to him that evening, you entered his chambers with cautious excitement, kneeling before him as he sat on his throne-like dais. “My lord,” you began softly, holding out the cloth, “I made this for you. I thought you might like it.”

Sukuna’s four crimson eyes flicked to the offering, and for a brief moment, there was silence. Then he spoke, his tone as sharp as ever.

“You spent all day on this?” he said, his voice laced with disdain. “What use do I have for something so… trivial?”

The words hit you harder than you anticipated. You had poured your heart into the gift, hoping to please him, and now your efforts felt meaningless. You lowered your hands, clutching the cloth tightly as your vision blurred with tears you desperately tried to hold back.

“I… I just wanted to give you something,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

Sukuna’s brows furrowed at the shift in your tone. He could sense your emotions as clearly as the tension in the air, and the sight of you so visibly upset stirred something in him—something he wasn’t used to feeling.

“Tch,” he muttered, leaning forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. “Why are you crying? I didn’t tell you to do something like this.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “I know. I just… I thought it would make you happy.”

Sukuna let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t good at this—at softening his edges. But seeing you like this unsettled him in a way that battles and curses never could

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone firm but quieter now.

Reluctantly, you raised your eyes to meet his. His gaze wasn’t as harsh as before, and for a moment, the room felt less heavy.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I’m not good with… things like this.” He gestured vaguely at the cloth in your hands. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “You… you do?”

“Yes,” he said, almost impatiently, but his tone lacked its usual edge. “I’m just not someone who knows how to handle… thoughtful gestures. But that doesn’t mean they’re wasted on me.”

You blinked, the sting of his earlier words starting to fade. “I just wanted to give you something that reminded you of… us. Of me.”

Sukuna’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “And you think I could forget you?”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and he chuckled lowly, clearly pleased with your reaction. He reached out, taking the cloth from your hands, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“It’s well-made,” he admitted, running his thumb over the intricate stitching. “Better than I expected.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and Sukuna leaned back, his gaze softening just slightly. “Next time, don’t exhaust yourself for my sake,” he said. “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

“I just wanted to make you happy,” you said softly, your earlier sadness melting away.

“You do,” he replied, his voice quiet but steady. “Even without this.”

The warmth in his words made your heart ache in the best way, and as he set the cloth aside carefully, you knew that, in his own way, Sukuna was trying.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi Fushiguro was in a foul mood. Gojo had been pestering him all day—constant teasing, unnecessary tasks, and endless comments that pushed his patience to the brink. By the time he walked through the door, his mind was racing, and he felt like he was ready to snap at anything that moved.

You had been waiting for him to come home, your excitement bubbling as you thought about sharing the small surprise you’d planned for him: his favorite snacks arranged neatly on the coffee table and a cozy spot on the couch waiting for him to relax.

When he walked in, you greeted him with a bright smile. “Megumi! Welcome home! I set up—”

“Can you just give me a second?” he snapped, not even looking up as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag with more force than necessary.

You froze, startled by the sharpness of his tone. “Oh… I didn’t mean to bother you,” you said softly, your voice already trembling slightly.

Megumi sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about you, okay? I just need some space.”

Your chest tightened at his words. He didn’t even glance at the effort you’d put into making his evening better. The snacks, the cozy setup—it all felt meaningless now. “I just wanted to help,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned away, your shoulders slumping.

The sound of your soft, hurt tone stopped Megumi in his tracks. He looked up and finally noticed the care you’d put into the room—the snacks, the cozy setting, and the clear effort to make him feel better. Guilt hit him like a wave.

“Wait,” he said, his voice gentler now as he stepped closer to you. “I… I’m sorry.”

You didn’t turn to face him, your hands nervously fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s fine,” you said, though the crack in your voice betrayed your true feelings.

“It’s not fine,” Megumi said, his tone firm but remorseful. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

You glanced back at him, your eyes glistening. “I was just trying to make you feel better,” you murmured, “but if you don’t want me here, I can—”

“No,” he cut in quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to leave. Please.”

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s been a rough day, and I let my frustration get the better of me. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were trying to do something nice for me, and I acted like an idiot.”

You stared at him for a moment, his rare vulnerability catching you off guard. “You mean that?”

“I do,” he said, stepping closer and gently taking your hand. “I see what you did here. It’s thoughtful, and it means a lot to me. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

Your lips trembled as a small smile broke through. “I just wanted you to relax after your day.”

“And I’m lucky to have you,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “Let me make it up to you.”

You hesitated before nodding, letting him guide you to the couch. As the two of you sat together, Megumi reached for one of the snacks you’d prepared, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly, glancing at you.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“For being patient with me,” he said. “And for always knowing how to make things better—even when I don’t deserve it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned against him, letting the tension of the evening fade away. Megumi might not always get it right, but moments like this reminded you why you loved him so much.

Yuji Itadori

Yuji Itadori wasn’t the type to snap at people—he was always upbeat, kind, and quick to laugh things off. But after a long day of missions, training, and dealing with the stress of being Sukuna’s vessel, he’d finally managed to steal a rare moment of relaxation, engrossed in a video game he’d been trying to beat for weeks.

You, excited to share some news with him, entered the room without realizing how deeply focused he was. “Yuji! Guess what happened today?” you said cheerfully, walking over to him.

“Not now,” he muttered, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying across the controller.

You hesitated, unsure if he’d heard you properly. “It’ll only take a second! You won’t believe—”

“I said not now!” he snapped, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard before.

The sudden harshness of his voice made you stop in your tracks. Your excitement vanished, replaced with a sinking feeling in your chest. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before mumbling, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Your voice was so soft, Yuji almost didn’t catch it. But when he heard the hurt in your tone and turned to see the way your expression had fallen, his stomach twisted with guilt.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean—” he started, but you were already backing away. “I’ll just… leave you alone,” you said quietly, heading toward the door.

Yuji quickly paused the game and jumped to his feet. “Wait! Don’t go!”

You stopped but didn’t turn around, your arms crossed tightly as if trying to protect yourself from the sting of his words.

Yuji rubbed the back of his neck, his face filled with regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was really uncool of me.”

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I just wanted to tell you something. I didn’t think it would make you so mad…”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I was just so caught up in the game, and I got frustrated. But that’s not an excuse. You didn’t deserve that.”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should say anything, and Yuji reached out, gently touching your arm. “Hey,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “I’m really, really sorry. You’re way more important to me than some stupid game.”

His words made your heart ache in the best way, and you finally turned to face him fully. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, giving you that familiar, boyish grin that made it hard to stay upset. “Tell me what happened today. I want to hear everything.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to interrupt…” you trailed off.

Yuji shook his head quickly. “Forget the game. I want to spend time with you.”

The sincerity in his voice melted away the last of your hurt, and you let yourself smile again. As you started sharing your story, Yuji sat beside you, listening intently, determined to make up for his mistake.

And when you laughed at one of his playful comments, Yuji silently promised himself to never let a moment like that happen again. You were his safe place, his reason to smile, and no game—or anything else—could ever compare.

[fishbonex]

Sharp thoughts 2/2

Mel Medarda x fem!reader

Summary: Things are starting to turn around again.

Word Count: 0,8K

Warning: insecurities

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

When you realized the way you had spoken to Mel the day before, you wanted to disappear.

What were you thinking? How did you think it was appropriate to talk to a Counselor like that?

Burying your face in your hands, you sighed audibly. Maybe you should start packing your things.

Entering the lab was like committing a crime, walking through the halls was like being wanted. Well, it was all in your head, you knew, in a way. But nothing could stop it from becoming reality.

Losing your privileges and sponsorships, being expelled from your lab and being forgotten were things that could happen if you displeased one of the Council members.

With a dramatic groan, you leaned your head back against the workbench. The richest person in Piltover? You weren't thinking that at all.

At least you were lucky enough not to run into her in the days that followed, which gave you time to think about what to do.

But luck wasn't so great, it seems, because Heimerdinger requested a Council meeting with some of the scientists who occupied the main building. And of course you were among them.

Wearing your formal clothes was still stifling, even after all the time you had been in your profession. Walking and standing in front of the gigantic table with the most important people in the city was even worse.

And there she was. Sitting in all her glory. Her elegant, smooth demeanor was the same, but you didn’t miss the way her expression fell slightly when she laid her eyes on you.

You looked away and swallowed hard, waiting for your turn to speak, which didn't take long because Heimerdinger preferred to interrupt your colleagues whenever he got too excited about their projects.

"Oh yes, you! Come, come closer." he called in his usual cheerful tone of voice. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm very well, professor, thank you-"

"Well, that's great! I've read your latest study, a wonderful thing, I must say." he said, looking around the table, receiving a few nods of approval from the other members. "I hope to be able to read the next one soon, bring it to me as soon as you're done, yes?"

You automatically looked at Mel, since she was the one you took your studies to, she seemed uncomfortable, but remained silent.

"Yes, Professor, of course." you replied politely, clasping your hands in front of you.

"And your engineering projects? I heard from one of your colleagues that you joined him in continuing a magnificent project for the new building—" his cheerful voice was interrupted.

"What engineering projects? I haven't been informed of anything." Mel's voice sounded slightly irritated, different from her usual soft tone.

You turned your head towards her and looked at Heimerdinger again, he gave an encouraging nod and you began to explain yourself.

"It's one of my areas of expertise, which I'm starting to pursue. It's not my project, actually, I'm just going to make a contribution." your voice sounded timid.

"You didn't know? I thought you were her sponsor, Councilor." Jayce's voice came through and only then did you realize he was there.

"I am. One of the sponsors, actually. I demand that your projects be brought to me, it is my responsibility to bring them to the Council." she said it firmly, alternating her eyes between you and Heimerdinger, who just nodded resignedly.

Mel had never spoken to you like that. Giving orders like you were a clueless maid.

"Well." Heimerdinger cleared his throat. "This meeting is adjourned."

You didn't wait for any further orders, turning on your heel and walking quickly back to your lab, letting out a tired sigh as you closed the door behind you.

"Didn't you ever think to tell me you were involved in engineering?" Mel's melodious voice rang out the moment you entered her office in the Council building.

"You never asked me, counselor." you replied, trying to sound polite.

"Won't you stop this?" she raised her voice in annoyance, her pretty face twisting into an angry expression. "Please, we're adults."

You swallowed and nodded, "You're right. I feel really bad... about the way I spoke to you earlier. I shouldn't meddle in your personal relationships."

"You're a personal relationship of mine." she raised an eyebrow. "Don't apologize, I would have been the same way if I witnessed someone having... sexual intercourse."

You felt the back of your neck heat up and sighed, "You were in your house anyway. I'm the one who broke in."

"You didn't broke in, I made it clear that you could come in whenever you wanted. That remains the same." she walked around the table, the clicks of her heels becoming present. "I must also apologize for the way I conducted myself at the Council."

"There's no need-"

"Jayce is a good man, but my relationship with him is... carnal. And business-related." she took a few steps closer. "If that's what's keeping you from me."

"Counselor, I don't-"

"Don't tell me no. You don't want me anymore?" she reached out to pull your hands toward her.

"No one in their right mind would give up on you." you blurted out and widened your eyes slightly afterwards, earning a giggle from Mel.

"Well, that's great then." she hooked her arms around your neck and leaned her face down to you, pressing her delicate lips against yours.

[schlattslonghairytoes]

omg wait i just sent in the baby it’s cold outside request and im now realizing that YOU PLANTEF THE SEED IN MY BRAIN WITH YOUR HCS WHEN I CATCH YOU!!

but if you don’t mind could you please go more into depth with that idea pls pls pls

the christmas spirit

you were sat on your sofa watching you boyfriends newest podcast episode, you were sorting through your own footage when you hear him talk about making a christmas album

now you knew he could sing, but an album worried you, he was no sinatra. so you decided to call him up and see what he was thinking

you clicked on his contact and began calling "jayjay😏" after 5 rings you really considered giving up, but you finally saw the word connecting

you again considered hanging up when he answered the phone looking like this.

"what." he groaned it a low pitched voice, you giggled before realizing what time it was by him

"jay why were you sleeping at five P.M" you squinted your eyes at him

"im tired." he deadpanned. you sighed before laughing again at his mad face, before you could speak he began to stretch and the angle where he dropped his phone gave you a full view of his beautiful body.

"do you know hot you are?" you ask admiring your boyfriend.

"ill hang up on you, slut." he never did like compliments.

"brat, anyways." you rolled your eyes "i just finished watching chuckle, you looked very cute, but what was this about a christmas album?"

his face lit up "i forgot to tell you! okay so remember my way, well i know you remember it but you get it, i wanted a new project to focus on so im going to make a christmas album!"

schlatt found it very hard to focus on one thing for a prolonged period of time, but he always loved singing so you believed this would be good for him.

"babe and how are you gonna do that?" you questioned, he began to pout as he walked to his bathroom and set down his phone on the counter

"what you dont beweve in me?" he asked in a weird baby voice, while alos having a mouth full of toothpaste

"gross. no of course i do, but i mean your gonna need a producer, a person to re-write the music so you can own it, a vocal coach, how much is this gonna cost you?" you voiced your concerns

"not as much as ill make from it" he laughed

"ugh i hate you" a sigh escaped you but he persisted

"and one more thing.. i want you to be in it."

-if there is one thing you knew about yourself, it was that you were not about to be one of those youtubers who started making shitty music

-so when i tell you it took a long time to get schlatt to convince you to be on the album, it took months

-but when you eventually came around schlatt was ecstatic

-and honestly you were kinda excited too, you would get to see your boyfriend after not seeing him for over a month

-and with this album drop, you both agreed it would basically be your own version of a hard launch

-you wanted to pick songs that would compliment both of your voices, but also make it pretty clear you were more then just friends

-you chose santa baby and baby its cold outside, but schlatt added another, your favorite song, something stupid by frank and nancy sinatra

-you were so excited to see him that the thought of having to sing that well didnt even cross your mind

-but you boarded your flight to LA without second thought, excited to see your favorite boy when you landed

schlatt fucking hates Los Angeles, its hot, the people suck ass, theres always traffic, and right now, the fact that your not with him is driving him insane.

your flight should be landing any minute, and hes sitting in an airport trying to hide and make sure no one recognizes him.

the reason that becoming increasingly difficult is because fucking jack manifold, tom simons, and harry tornado (average harry), waltz off the plane, into the airport, in los angeles.

where everyone is always looking for someone to recognize.

schlatt is hiding twenty feet away from them, but hes already gotten noticed four times, the man cant catch a break.

he just wants to see his girlfriend, not interact with his fuckass fans

that fact that your relationship was private didnt help, he would one hundred percent makeout with you in the middle of the airport, but now that you have planned your hardlaunch he has to contain himself.

harry and jack were taking a picture with a fan, and tom was pissing as usual when schlatt finally saw you

he launched himself up and flailed his arms around like a clown to you, when you saw him you bolted across the floor and threw your bags at harry, who fell over from the force.

like flat on his ass.

you ran and jumped your man “i missed you so much baby” you laughed

“there is a group of teenage girls to your left that have their phones out, i love you so fucking much but save it for the bnb.” he smiled down at you

you giggled and looked over at the six girls, who were activley ignoring harry and tom who were awkwardly standing by them

"holy fucking shit im your biggest fan, please please please can i get a picture with you ive been watching you since i was fucking ten." one girl yelled

"kezia shut the hell up your gonna scare her away." another slapped her

"alanna you dont understand." she wailed

"you look alot like our art teacher" another added

"renn arent you a patron of her podcast?" holy fuck there were so many of them

they all began yelling over eachother and fan girling over you, "do you guys want a picture, or we can make a tiktok or something, up to you guys." you said politely

"can i be in it?" harry asked quietly

"um, sorry, who are you?" tom and jack started hysterically laughing and slapping harry

you guys ended up making a funny tiktok in the middle of LAX and they told you they were all friends because of an art class they have together.

after you all said our goodbyes you all loaded into ted's truck that schlatt was borrowing to haul you all around

you got in the passenger seat as schlatt went over the plan for the week

"okay, we have an airbnb for all of us, but two of you have to share a room, theres three in total. so jack tom and harry two of you will have to be sharing a bed, no homo in my airbnb do ya' hear me?"

they all burst out laughing and agree to schlatts terms

"okay, today once all of you are back at the bnb, im gonna head to the studio to record my solo songs, tommora' im recording with tom and jack, harry you can tag along or whatever, wednesday me and you are together"

he rested his hand on your thigh as he looked at you, his eyes full of stars, looking at you as if you had hung them

"then Thursday, me ludwig, quackity and theo are gonna be down there, the rest of the week is scheduled incase we need to re-record anything or just have fun, everyone undertand?"

he squeezed your thigh as he drove, eyes locked on you

"eyes on the road buddy" you pushed his head foward and sat back in your seat admiring you boyfriend as your friends wrestled in the back.

"harry cut it out, tom stop touching his bum or whatever you britsh fucks call it. youre being gay man, what did i say about that." schlatt jokes, he told you privately that he was bisexual so you knew his jokes were simply just jokes

you watched him as he yelled at the monkeys in the back seat and all you could think is how good of a dad hes going to be, you've spoke about kids before, and your both on the same page which is a huge relief.

you thought about what features your kids would get from him, and god you hoped it was his nose, you loved his nose.

"can ya' stop thinking so hard i swear i can hear your thought." he laughed as he stopped at a red light, looking over to you again

"i just love you so much." you laughed

"ew mom and dad are gonna fuck!" tom gagged

"get a room you perverts" harry lent over the middle console and made smooching noises, schlatt grabbed his face and pushed him back into his seat.

"this is gonna be a long fucking week, im gonna kill myself i swear." schlatt scoffed

"take me with you then" you sighed and slouched into your seat.

day one. (six days remaining)

you woke up with schlatts arms wrapped around your waist, good start.

you both woke up early so you could get breakfast for you and your kids, as you walked up the streets of LA all you could think about is how you want to spend the rest of your life with this man.

"penny for your thoughts?" he laughed, but was one of his calm laughs that was so genuine and unforced

"just love you, love us y'know? i wanna have a big house, a cat, maybe a dog, some little you's running around, i just cant wait to move in with you next month"

"if you say anything like that again ill fuck you right here. dont test me, im gonna have to walk around witha' boner now you whore"

your laugh escaped you and you had to bend over and stop walking as you look up at your now tomoato colored boyfriend.

"c'mon keep it moving." he gunted, a small smiled appearing on his stone cold face.

you ate breakfast together then made your way back to the bnb to deliver food to your "kiddos", soon after they all left for the studio so you decided to start a little project of your own, a suprise one

since schlatt was going to hard launch your realationship through something he loved, you decided you'd do the same

a little video about the love of your life

day two (five days remaining)

you and schlatt repeated the same routine in the morning, you went and got breakfast, went back the bnb, got changed and finally left for the studio

on your walk there schlatt warned you about the homeless person right infront of the studio

"no im so serious, he actually tried to stab me two days ago, and when i finaly got away from him he started yelling how he could take me, and not in a fight. let me tell you, he was not my type."

you both walked into the studio to be met by a italian man named David, but it was pronounced daviday.

he directed you both to a booth were you were instructed to drink tea and blow bubbles into a cup

"babe im starting to get nervous, if i fuck up, or have a voice crack, and you laugh at me. so help me god im breaking up with you" you told him

"lemme tell you what happened yesterday" he sat down and began drinking his tea. "i let harry sing one line on jingle bells and his voice went up and octave and cracked. it was so funny holy shit, i have to get that recording."

you both contiuned talking about the recording process so far, until david told you he was ready to begin, starting with baby its cold outside and you were gonna do a full run through no matter the mistakes.

the music counted in and you started off the song "i really cant stay" you sang. then your boyfriend came in with "but baby, its cold outside" and your eyes widened at how good he sounded

you went through the full thing and after the last line you laughed until you heard davids voice, "both of you, that was shit, do it again."

schlatt didnt even seem fazed by this. holy fuck you were in for a long day.

once david was semi happy with that song you moved onto something stupid, and that one went by much faster.

but the song you were dreading most was next, mostly cause you had to carry the whole song

schlatt started off the ong with the iconic bu-bum, bu-bum' when your voice came in "santa, baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me, been an awful good girl."

as you sang your eyes looked up at him an winked before you focused on singing again.

schlatt continued through the song, but the moment you were done, he scurred off to the bathroom while you did certain lines and verses over and over

when he came back, his face was significantly redder, but you just laughed and moved on, too focused on perfecting your song

you had been recording for over 12 hours now, both of you exhausted.

when you were finally done it was two am.

you called an uber and headed back to the bnb

as you fell asleep on schlatts chest, all you could think about was how you couldnt wait to upload the album, and finally live with the love of your life.

[am-i-interrupting]

Can’t Go Back | Silco x Reader

Chapter 3 | Pushed Under the Waves

Summary: You had a long, complicated history with Silco before he became the Eye of Zaun. You thought you’d buried it a long time ago. It all starts to re-emerge from the ground when Vander dies and Powder is found in the hands of Silco.

Time felt like it passed by extremely fast and incredibly slow. Most days it felt like just yesterday that you were at the rubble where you found Vander and the boys. Yet it felt like it’d be forever before you saw Jinx (as she was insistent you call her even if it made your stomach curl) again.

It’d been eight months since you stopped fighting. You and Silco had founded a routine. Jinx was with him while you worked and vice versa. Most nights she stayed at The Drop but roughly a week or so worth of nights each month she’d stay with you.

She would curl up in the bed with Ekko after a long day of tinkering and toying and bickering and playing together, just being kids. Even if both of them had haunted looks in their eyes that wouldn’t go away.

Occasionally on those nights she would wake up and go to where you slept on the couch. She would grab your hand and pull you into the bedroom. You’d wrap your arms around her as you both laid down. Normally Ekko would stir at this and roll into your awaiting arms with her.

You cherished those nights.

Tonight, you were throwing yourself into work. At least, that’s what you had planned until Babette informed you, you had been bought out by one person for the night.

You went to the designated meeting spot that had been given. Some people didn’t like being separated from others with only a mere curtain, you could understand that. However, you couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“No,” you said simply as you turned to walk out immediately upon seeing who it was.

A hand grabbed your wrist and you jerked it away. You reared your hand back and punched him in the face.

He faltered for a moment. You went to continue your walk away but he was stubborn. He followed you. It wasn’t until you were out of the building though that he managed to grab you again. This time a tight grip around your forearm instead of a careful one.

“Have a smoke with me,” the velvet voice said. “That’s all I ask.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

You gave in too easily. You knew that. You reprimanded yourself for it. Still, you followed him to the edges of the water.

Another event flashed before your eyes instead of just the one today was the anniversary of.

Running. Adrenaline high. A vague ache in your torso and with each contact your feet had with the ground.

You had been desperate.

There was a slice that rang through the air as Silco cut a cigar. A nice click of his lighter as it opened.

You looked at him. His ocean eye on your side.

He held the cigar between his teeth as the light grew closer to the end of it. His other hand came up and curled around the flame. Slowly the end sparked with a red hue.

His lips pressed against the cigar as he inhaled. His right hand slipping the lighter back in his pocket. His pointer finger wrapped around the top as he used his others to stabilize it.

He drug it away from his mouth. His hand fell to his side for a moment as he closed his eyes and let his head tilt back. Then he carefully exhaled.

He took another puff before he handed it off to you.

“Where’s Jinx?” you asked as you plucked the cigar from him.

“Sedated,” he said causing you to pause, “she had a fit this morning when she realized what day it was. She kept hitting herself, throwing things, talking to her ghosts. I tried talking her down but nothing worked. Sevika brought the doctor in and he sedated her. Not my preferred method but whatever works, I suppose.”

“You should have gotten me.” You took a drag. “I know her better than all of you combined. I could have figured something out,” you said as smoke flooded out your mouth with your words.

“I thought of it but I was more concerned with making sure she didn’t hurt herself severely. Sevika disappeared as soon as the girl threw a knife at her. Came back twenty minutes later with the doctor in tow.”

Your own voice rang in your head from years ago. “She’s got good instincts.”

You said nothing in reply.

Your heart ached at the pain of your girl. You hated that she was going through this.

Thankfully, Ekko was doing much better. At least in comparison to throwing things and hurting himself. He’d requested that you give him his space but you knew where he was. He was at Benzo’s shop, rundown, ragged, and abandoned.

It was truly a miracle that in a years time someone hadn’t snatched it on up and claimed it as their own or that it’s managed to keep its walls free from addicts and those without any roof.

You wanted to buy it but some of your top buyers hadn’t been coming down. Scared shitless of being caught up in the fights. Only within the past month have some started to drip back down to the Lanes.

“Why are we here, Silco?” you asked.

“A man died here, years ago,” Silco began. “You need to let him go in order to move on with life. I’m not him anymore.”

You looked him in the eye. You felt your nostrils begin to sting as your eyes watered.

“I know.”

Silco took the last drag left in the cigar and flicked it into the water. The waves pulled it down until it was beneath the black.

He stepped forward. The water lapped at his shoes. He turned and extended a hand to you.

“He tried to find you,” you told him. “Vander was sorry.”

A bit of the coldness melted away. His arm slumped a bit. No longer straight and rigid but more relaxed. Still, it was reaching for you.

“No matter what he did to you and no matter what you did to him, he still loved you,” you said as you let your hand slip into his.

His hands were cold, long, and wrapped delicately around your own. Engulfing it in his icy touch.

“We tried to find you for months but you didn’t want to be found,” you continued on. “You didn’t even come to their funerals.

“All we wanted was to get to independence and peace but we’re not anywhere near close. How are you any closer to achieving that compared to Vander?”

He didn’t answer you.

You shoved his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t in his hold. “Huh?”

The water was up to your hips.

He didn’t reply.

“There’s been fighting and death and people are dying every day on the streets because of what you put in them! What’s the point? How does this help anyone? How does this make them—“ you gestured at the buildings in the distance— “respect us? All they’re seeing are animals fighting for scraps!

The water was above your chest now, reaching for your shoulders if the waves were strong enough.

He stopped. He turned to you and took both your hands in his. You held his gaze for a minute before you sighed. You let your head thump against his shoulder, uncaring that water lapped at your chin.

“How does this fix things because all I see are more problems,” you said, your voice going quiet.

“We tried to fight for our independence. We tried before and we failed. These are the trails to make our fight succeed,” Silco said. “There will be loss but this way we have subjects who are willing.”

“They’re addicted,” you corrected.

“Would you rather I kidnap people off the street?” he asked. “Pay them to? What money would go back into the trails if we gave it away just to test?”

“Did you even think about trying to strike a deal?” you asked.

“Our tongues are practiced in different forms, even combined, did they ever listen to us before? We need to scare them and if they want a war, we need to win.”

You let your weight fall against him. Felt his hands move to your elbows to adjust. His breath warmed your skin in comparison to the water.

You felt him slowly begin to pull you both down. You didn’t fight it.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked.

“If I wanted to, I would have done it when I killed Vander,” he said it with such ease.

A tear fell down your cheek. “How comforting.”

The water tickled your lips. You got half a second of warning to suck in a breath before you were under.

In the freezing waters, Silco was warm. You let your eyes close. Your head rested against his own. His hair tickled your face as the soft currents made it sway and dance.

You let your arms wrap around Silco’s middle. He hugged you back.

Together you stayed like that until the inevitable need to breathe befell the both of you. Silco’s foot kicked the bottom of the floor and brought the two of you to the surface, where standing upright the water was beneath you.

You didn’t let go for one moment, then two. You wanted to hold on, keep this moment of peace between you.

He let go first.

Your hands slowly went from his back to his shoulders and down his arms. You opened your eyes.

One sea foam green eye stared at you. The other a flame in the night.

He must have been wearing some kind of makeup because the skin around was blacked, almost necrotic.

He squeezed your elbows. His hands went down to yours. His fingers wrapped around your own. His thumb rubbed. He squeezed again. He walked away but didn’t let go until he was too far away to hold on.

You watched him leave.

You felt cold. The water was cold. The breeze was cold. Neither of those is what caused your feeling.

You stared at the water surrounding you. The waves clashing against each other. The current that tried to push through but went around you as it realized it couldn’t.

Your hands touched the surface. Ripples dispersed. The rings started off small. Then they stretched out as far as they could before they broke.

You breached the surface. Stood for a moment and simply felt. You felt the rush past your fingertips, tickling your skin.

Something slowly bubbled up inside you. It was warm.

You let yourself feel it, touch it, poke it, stoke it. It flared and quickly went from warm to hot to scorching.

Your jaw clenched and your nostrils flared. Your breathing quickened. You were struggling for air.

You slipped beneath the water once more. This time alone. The only source of heat coming from this feeling which overflowed, bubbling and boiling.

You let out an agonizing scream. Water filled your mouth, grimy and desolate. It aimed for your lungs. Going through your clenched teeth like breaking through a dam.

Breaching the water you coughed and heaved.

Your fingers went through your hair and pulled. You felt like you were being strangled. Like a frightened animal in a corner but with the anger of a beast protecting their pride.

You slammed your fists against the water and let another scream ripe through your lungs but this time it went through the air instead of the water.

Ekko didn’t question when you came into the apartment soaked. You didn’t question why his hands were covered in bandages.

In some weird way, you almost felt better.

There was so much going on. Fighting, bombs, guns, punches, yells, screams, struggles, death, life. All of it surrounded you.

Just moment ago you’d been aiming at enforcers. Now you were running. Tears in your eyes as your breathing came out in strangled puffs. You couldn’t keep it down. You couldn’t keep the air in.

You wiped at your tears. Scratched them off your skin.

A yell, his yell. You picked up the pace.

Distantly, oh so distantly you registered ache in your torso that went down and doubled with each contact your feet had with the ground.

But you were desperate.

You saw thrashing in the water. Above the waves one man, below the waves was the one you were more worried about.

Vander looked different. He looked murderous in way you’d never seen before. He looked dangerous in way that made you scared.

The man who’d only ever given you warmth and kindness was scaring you. He scared you here now more than the enforcers ever had.

His hands were wrapped around the neck of Silco beneath the water. He was thrashing and clawing. Every few seconds his hands would come up from the water.

You yelled out both their names but neither responded as you raced closer.

You heart dropped to your stomach when the thrashing stopped. If he could last a few seconds more.

Tears poorer down your face, heated streams of worry and grief. Just a few seconds more.

Vander’s breath left him and he stepped back in the water. Silco’s head bolted up from beneath. He scrambled to his feet. Vander tried to grab him, push him back down. A backward slash to his arm allowed Silco to get away.

The water soaked through your boots as you raised your hand and pointed your gun. This time not at enforcers but your friend.

Your head turned to watch Silco run. Blood tainted the water. It dripped down his face but his hand covered it as he ran.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” you said, voice far more steady and stern than you felt.

Vander took a step closer as Silco still ran. You squeezed your finger around the trigger. The bullet swirled past his head. A warning.

Your lips trembled.

“Don’t think I won’t!”

You readjusted your aim towards his chest.

Vander held his arm that leaked into the water and grunted. Looked at you, past you and then back again. He yelled through clenched teeth as he walked the other way. He picked up his mining gloves and back into the real fight he went.

You stood, staring at the water. It was a murky brown, tinged red with blood.

The reality of what happened sunk in and weighed on you heavier than an anchor.

Your gun fell from your hand. It misfired into the bloodstained river.

You stood for one, two, three, four seconds? Minutes? Hours?

At some point you just snapped into action and ran toward where Silco had. You were only able to follow his trail so far before the blood had been completed washed by the rain.

You collapsed at the end of the trail. The tears never stopped but they doubled down harder.

Fari, dead. Felicia, dead. Connol, dead. Vander, dead to you. Silco, gone.

Your head tilted down towards the pavement as your body curled in. Your hands went to your middle, clutched in fists where your heart was. Almost like if you tried hard enough you could rip your heart from your chest and take the pain with it.

Not once had you ever felt like this before in your life. You weren’t sure you would survive it. It hurt, throbbing a painful beat in your body. With every breath, every movement, every second the pain worsened.

You passed out in the alleyway.

You awoke to a hard pushing against your shoulder. Your eyes opened and you winced at the few scattered bits of sunlight the Lanes got. You rubbed at the sleep in your eyes and tried again. This time the world was less blurry.

Benzo.

“Come on,” he said, heaving you up. “The kids are worried about you.”

You let your head fall against his torso. His arm around you was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Right good scare you gave all of us,” he said with a forced laugh. “We were worried you’d have run off.”

He tried to lift the spirits. Bless him, he did try. However, there was no fixing this right now.

The Last Drop came into view and you stopped.

“Don’t let me see Vander,” you said, spitting out his name like a curse. “I don’t want to kill him in front of the kids.”

Benzo looked at you, worried and concerned. It took a moment for him to realize you were serious.

“Alright,” he said, “give me a second.”

He walked into the bar before you. You leaned against the wall beside the door. You felt numb. You felt heartless. You felt cold.

[heliswife]

hiii, I have a request!!

could you maybe write a silly seungkwan fic like where seungkwan just wont stop nagging ab things/habbits reader does but in a loving way kinda?? idk if that makes sense but I can see him lowkey doing that so yeah!! thank you so much already if you do this😝💘

im so sorry this took so long to finish! I was pretty busy with a lot of stuff and forgot about this... I decided to do one of the habits I have, so I hope you enjoy!

"Why do you always do that?" Seungkwan asks you one day.

"Do what?" You respond with another question, though you're well aware of what your boyfriend is talking about. You bite your nails way too much, especially when you're stressed.

"I can see you biting your nails right now, y/n, don't play with me." Seungkwan grabs your hands and pulls them away from your mouth. "You need to find a way to break this habit, it's unhealthy."

"Kwannie..." You pout. Though your charm usually works on Seungkwan, this time was an exception. "I don't know how to stop it though!"

"You can occupy your mouth with something else?" Both you and him are silent until he realizes the connotation his words have, "No, I mean like, chew gum or something! Get your head out of the gutter!"

"My bad," You laugh at his annoyed face, "Do you have any gum then?"

Seungkwan fishes his bag for a stick of gum, which he hands to you. "Wait, before you chew, I have another way that could help?"

"What is it?"

Seungkwan unexpectedly kisses you, and you gasp against his lips. "You could always kiss me if you don't want to bite your nails," He mutters against your mouth, and you hum in agreement.

"Won't bite my nails again, Kwannie," You tell him, and he kisses you again, but this time, it's in an "I'm proud of you" way.

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 4/7

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 2.8k Rating: M Read on Ao3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

-

Chapter Four

The next two shifts were mostly normal. Maybe he talked to Evan a little more and didn’t shy away from joining a conversation that included Evan. Maybe their eyes caught a few times and Tommy was tempted to just throw caution to the wind and drag Evan into an empty space and kiss him just because. Maybe, he’d started to get excited about the possibilities that existed if he and Evan really gave it a go between them. Tommy didn’t really think anyone noticed. 

“You’re cheerier than usual,” Howie said to him while they decorated the tree.

“I guess I’m in the holiday spirit,” Tommy said and added a few more ornaments to the tree.

“That is not like you,” Howie said. “Did you meet someone or something? You’re even being nicer to Buck.” 

“I’ve never been mean to Buck.” 

“You skirt a fine line,” Hen observed. “A very fine line and lately that’s changed a bit. It’s not a bad thing.” 

Hen was setting up the table where they would start to collect the donated gifts in a few hours. She fixed the tablecloth so it lay straighter.  

“I guess I just realized he isn’t that bad,” Tommy said. 

He spotted Evan bringing a pile of wrapped cardboard boxes to throw under the tree and he had found a Santa hat to perch atop his head. He looked adorable. Tommy maybe lost a step because he was watching him a bit too closely. 

“What?” Evan asked. “Do I have something on my face?” 

Chim took a few of the boxes. “Just your head.” 

“Very festive,” Tommy added. 

Was it bad that Tommy pictured him in nothing but the hat spread out on his bed? Probably. Hen caught his eye, raised a brow and Tommy had to look away quickly. If Evan, who literally said everything that came to mind hadn’t told them he wasn’t straight, it wasn’t Tommy’s place. 

Between Chim and Evan, they had the fake presents arranged. Tommy added the last of the ornaments and that was probably as well as they were going to do.

“Looking good,” Bobby said. “I’m sure we’ll bring in lots of toys for the kids.”  

A few hours later when people started arriving to drop off toys, Tommy got busy with sorting everything into the boxes that the Toys for Tots people would pick up in a few days. It was all going well for a while until he saw when Evan checked out a woman that walked up to him, saw the way he smiled at her and how she spent more time than necessary talking to Buck. 

“At least, it’s doubtful he’ll steal the ladder truck again,” Howie said. “And…she’s leaving her number.” 

Tommy didn’t know what the feeling growing in his gut was. Jealousy? Maybe a little, even though he really had no claim on Evan and Evan could do whatever he wanted. It just sobered him, reminded him that all they’d had was essentially a hook up and for Evan that was normal. It was what he did. 

Tommy turned away from Evan and Howie both, fixing a few more toys in the box. At the first chance he got, he snuck towards the bathroom and he allowed himself a moment. He’d let himself get not invested, but hopeful. He had to think about the reality and the reality was that Evan, no matter how nice and funny and charming, was still the guy that hooked up with women regularly and never really had relationships. There was nothing wrong with that and Tommy could have a bit of fun, but that was all that it would be. 

He heard the door open and turned in time to see Evan lean against the door, reaching behind him to click the lock. 

“Aren’t you collecting toys?” 

“Hen’s got it,” Evan said and then strode towards Tommy, taking grasp of his chin and kissing him. 

Tommy could do nothing but respond, kissing him back and gasping when Evan pressed him into the wall behind him, keeping their lips locked. 

“Shouldn’t do this at work,” Tommy managed to get out in between kisses that he did not stop. 

“Been wanting to kiss you for days,” Evan said, breath hot on Tommy’s neck before his lips were there and Tommy was leaning his head back onto the wall. “Can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Tommy was hard in his pants. It wasn’t difficult, not when a man as hot as Evan was kissing him and rubbing up against him. He could feel Evan was hard too and they rutted into each other and he shouldn’t have been surprised when Evan reached down to open his pants.

“Ev…Evan, we’re at work.” 

“So what,” Evan said and his hand grasped Tommy gently and then a little tighter. 

If they were going to do this, then Tommy needed it to be quick. Hen and Chim would notice they were gone. Evan’s hand felt amazing, and Evan kept kissing his neck and his jaw and when Tommy had to stifle a moan his lips were there to catch it. Tommy came and Evan somehow had a napkin ready to go so none of it got on either of their clothes. Evan threw it in the direction of the trash and it missed, but he didn’t seem to care, instead he was content to just stay close to Tommy and happy when Tommy pulled him into another kiss and when Tommy’s hand went to Evan’s pants. 

The belt was already undone and it wasn’t hard to open his pants and then there was Evan’s cock a little red and leaking. Tommy wanted to taste him. From the looks of it, Evan wouldn’t last. 

Tommy kissed Evan once more and then he dropped down to his knees. The tile was hard and cold on his knees but none of that mattered. Evan looked shocked, but his hand touched Tommy’s jaw and then hair and Tommy put his mouth on him. 

The weight of Evan’s cock on his tongue was everything. Tommy gave it his all, licking and sucking and using his hand to fondle his balls. It didn’t take long for Evan to start squirming and for him to stifle groans into his forearm as he came. Tommy swallowed and it seemed to turn Evan boneless because he slumped forward, hand catching himself on the wall. 

Tommy tucked him back in, took care of closing his pants and doing his belt. 

“Tommy that was—” 

“Yeah,” Tommy said, but he was conscious of how long they had already been gone. 

They washed their hands and then shared one last kiss that Evan groaned into and that left Tommy smirking because Evan was tasting himself. 

“Take a few minutes,” Tommy said. 

“Uh. Sure.” 

Then, Tommy left him there. 

A bunch more toys had been added to the pile. Karen had shown up with Denny with a small pile of her own and Denny was admiring the Christmas tree. Tommy had met him enough times to know he was a quiet kid. A good kid. He smiled and waved at Tommy. Tommy waved back. 

“Hey, Tommy,” Karen said. “How did it go the other night getting Buck back to his place?” 

“Oh. He stayed at mine. I have a pull out. He didn’t seem to want to go home.” 

“Oh,” Karen said. 

Did Tommy see Hen and Karen share a look between them. 

“It’s those roommates,” Hen threw in. “He really needs to start looking for his own place. It’s practically a frat house over there, Buck is probably the most responsible of them all which is saying something.”

“That bad, huh,” Tommy said. 

A couple walked up then, holding a couple of Barbies. Tommy moved to thank them and receive the boxes. He’d just placed them on the pile when he saw Evan return. He looked a little flushed still, but happy. Tommy almost couldn’t look away. 

-

There was just something about Tommy. It was hard to not look at him, or want to touch him, or want to talk to him. So much so that when he realized Tommy had disappeared into the bathroom, Buck gave it a couple of minutes before making an excuse to also disappear. 

Afterwards, he felt a little more settled, except that Tommy still looked like that and Buck had to fight with himself to not just make some excuse that got them both out of work. Buck felt like back when he had sex for the first time when he was a teenager and how with that door open he just wanted to have sex all the time. It was all he thought about and all that he wanted. It was the same with Tommy. 

Maybe he hadn’t been wrong about thinking that he did have a sex addiction, except that it was more like an addiction to Tommy and neither of them had even penetrated the other yet. Though thinking about Tommy’s mouth, the way his lips looked while he took Buck in…well, that would be sitting right in his mind the next time he was on his own and needing to take matters into his own hands.  

He and Tommy didn’t spend any more alone time for the rest of the shift and the only acknowledgement of their as of yet undetermined plans, was Tommy touching his shoulder as he headed out. 

“See you tomorrow, Evan. I’ll text you.” 

Tommy did text him the next morning and while Buck waited for the Mr. Coffee to brew his coffee, they texted back and forth and settled on meeting up for lunch. That gave Buck plenty of time to freak out about what to wear and what it meant for him and Tommy to go out like this. On a date. He was going on a date with a dude. 

A few hours later and he was still wrapping his mind around it. 

“Hey, Evan, you alright there?” Connor asked and Buck had forgotten he’d left his door open. 

“I have a date,” Buck said and managed to swallow ‘with a dude’ before he could add that on. 

“Oh, really,” Connor said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Connor was the reason Buck was in LA and Buck had never thought about it much, especially not when he’d been so excited to find a new adventure after being in Peru and getting bored of it. Buck remembered how much he’d liked talking to him when he was serving drinks and how his eyes had caught his smile and liked when he was responsible for it. 

“Meet this one on the job?” Connor asked. 

“Huh. Yeah, actually,” Buck said. “I did.”

“Well, I was going to invite you out to the bar tonight, but since you have a date I’m sure you’ll be busy.” 

Buck rolled his eyes. He heard Connor start to leave and something compelled him to stop him because he couldn’t talk to Hen or Chim or…oh, he couldn’t imagine talking to Bobby about this. It would have been nice if he’d had Maddie around, but since he doubted the Christmas postcard he sent her would be answered — just like all the others — then Connor was probably his best bet. 

“Hey, Connor, have you ever been checking out someone’s ass and realized like five minutes too late that it belongs to a guy?” 

It was probably not the best way to go about this, but he didn’t know how else to approach it. 

Connor eyed him. “No,” he said with a laugh. “What’s going on?”

“I think. No…no, I know, but I think I’ve always checked out guys. Like, a hot ass is a hot ass, you know? And I guess I figured everyone thought that but now—”

“Now you’re realizing not everyone sees things like you,” Connor said. “I think we all get there sometime. What’s bringing this out now?” 

“My date tonight,” Buck said. “It’s uh, it’s with a guy.” 

Connor’s eyebrows went up high. “Oh. So, you’re like just jumping right in. Whole gay experience or whatever.” 

“I’m not gay,” Buck said at once. 

“Yeah, but you’re not straight either. And, it’s perfectly fine. You like this guy, so go for it.” 

He didn’t need Connor to validate him, but it was nice nonetheless to have him just shrug it all off, like who Buck dated or kissed or had sex with didn’t really matter. Connor walked to the door again, but he turned and glanced back at Buck. Offering him a smile. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t deep dived in some research spiral about this.”

“I’ve been distracted,” Buck admitted, fully aware that he was blushing. 

“Oh,” Connor said and laughed. “It’s like that.” 

“Shut up.”  

Buck went through a few outfit changes, put a bit more product in his hair, and then realized that it was time he headed out if he was planning on not being late.

“Good luck,” Connor told him as Buck approached the door. “Make good choices with your man and your gay awakening.” 

“Rude. And, Connor, I’m bisexual.” 

-

Evan had that ability to go from hot to adorable all in the space of a couple of minutes. Tommy had arrived a little early for their date, so he was outside the restaurant and got to watch as Evan walked towards him looking so effortlessly hot and then when he spotted Tommy, he broke into such a huge grin and Tommy was left trying to catch his breath. Then, Evan was there and pulling him into a hug. 

“Hi,” Evan said. “Ready to go in?” 

They walked inside and the hostess seated them right away, one of the perks of lunch instead of dinner. Neither Evan or Tommy had said it while planning, but Tommy was hoping that lunch could turn into going back to his place and that they could wind up getting dinner together too. It was perhaps a bit presumptuous, but Tommy knew Evan and Evan had said he had the whole day free. 

Tommy had shared many meals with Evan before, but usually they were surrounded by other people, with several conversations going on at once and people talking over each other. Tommy tended to be quieter, contributing only when it was truly necessary and never in a conversation with Evan. It was different to have Evan’s undivided attention, but Tommy liked it. 

“So, your art,” Evan said after they’d put in their orders. 

“What about it?” 

“What do you do with it? Do you sell it or gift it or display it anywhere? It’s very good.” 

“It’s not,” Tommy said quickly. “I enjoy doing it, but it’s just fun.” 

“But you’re so good.” 

Tommy didn’t think that was true. Not a lot of people had seen it, but Tommy could hardly compare it to real artists. 

“That’s subjective,” Tommy said. “You saw it in the middle of the night. You were probably still drunk.” 

“If you ask Bobby, I’m sure he’ll love that one of the ladder truck to hang at the firehouse.” 

It would fit in at least, but Tommy didn’t think it was anything too special. Anyone could sketch out a firetruck and then paint it red. 

“You know,” Evan said, “I always thought you were this confident cool guy, but I’m seeing a different side of you.”

Tommy didn’t know how to take that.

“Not…it’s not a bad thing. There’s so much more to you I didn’t know, is all. I like knowing that and getting to know you.”

“And what about you, Evan, are you hiding any secret hobbies?” 

Evan chuckled. “Not really. I mean, I’ve had a lot of jobs but it’s not like I still do any of those things.” 

“Jobs? Like what?” 

Apparently there were quite a few things. He was a mixologist. He’d been a lifeguard and used that as an excuse to surf all the time. He’d worked as a ranch hand. He’d done a few retail jobs. Construction. He’d travelled across the US bartending and taking any odd job and then gone through the training to become a Navy SEAL before dropping out and moving to Peru where he was a bartender right on a beach.  

“And somehow you landed a firefighter in LA,” Tommy said. 

“It stuck. It’s where I’m meant to be. I think it was what I was always searching for. Making a difference. Actually helping people.” 

Tommy couldn’t deny that he enjoyed getting to know more about Evan. He was more than just the impatient, impulsive kid that Tommy had convinced himself that Evan was. It did nothing to help Tommy find a good Christmas present, but he also was pretty sure that Evan would be happy to receive anything. 

Their lunch went by too quickly, the food disappearing from their plates, until Tommy was grabbing the bill before Evan could protest. 

“You’ll just pay next time,” Tommy said. 

It sounded presumptuous, but he saw Evan’s smile, the way it reached his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Next time.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 2

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Big bonus chapter for fans of Ben being obsessed with Her.

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 9.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 1 - Part 3

Read on A03!

Ben wasn’t sure when stores got so fucking big. He’d seen big box stores before—despite what She insisted, he wasn’t a fucking dinosaur—but this was downright insane. It was a goddamn warehouse, and a poorly designed, maze-like one at that. There was no fucking logic to any of this shit, because Ben took a turn from what seemed to be an electronics isle and ended up surrounded by fucking cheese. It didn’t help that it was only him and Ryan, and they both needed Her for this modern navigation shit. But She was off doing her stupid surprise—Ben had tried to call it a secret again and She’d stuck Her tongue out and flipped him off—so they had to figure this shit out alone, together.

It wasn’t going that well.

“What the fuck are these.” Ben grunted, his eyes narrowed on the shelf in-front of them, filled with weird looking, round stuffed animals. And a mango. And one brown thing that seemed to be staring into his goddamn soul.

Ryan—standing at Ben’s elbows and tapping his fingers on the half-full cart—shrugged nervously. “I think they’re called Squishmallows?”

“Stupid fucking name. What’s that,” Ben gestured to the brown one. “Even supposed to be-“

“Pancakes.” Ryan mumbled. “I think?”

“Huh.” Ben glowered at the plushie, and realized Ryan had nailed it. Stuffed pancakes. She’d like stuffed pancakes. “Good work, kid.”

Ben grabbed the pancakes, tossed them into the cart, and tried not to drown in the hot, bright pride bursting in his chest at Ryan’s grin as he started to push the cart once more.

“Wait.” Ben halted Ryan with a hand on his shoulder, and pointed back to the shelf. “You want one?”

Ryan turned a little red, his voice a soft fucking whisper as his heart stumbled in his chest. “Yes, please.”

“Grab it and we’ll get moving.”

Ryan nodded, choosing one of the weird animals—Ben would figure out exactly what the fuck it was later, but his best bet right now was a cat—and they moved on through the store.

“We got your pants.” Ben scanned around the store, half his attention on what they were supposed to be doing and half on making sure no fucking pussies started filming them. “And the shit for dinner.”

“And Butcher’s shirt,” Ryan added, and when Ben glanced down at him, he was frowning at the cart. “Do you think he’ll like it? He has shirts.”

Ben shrugged. “Everyone has fucking shirts, Ryan. Butcher will just be damn grateful you got him something.”

Ryan hummed, sounding slightly unconvinced, his bod still tensed, so Ben kept talking. 

“And the asshole is fucking impossible to buy for. Trust me, kid, the shirt was a good idea. Butcher will like it.”

“Did you,” Ryan looked up at Ben with widened eyes. “Did you buy him something?”

“Have to. Got him for Secret Santa. And, fuck, don’t tell,” Ben muttered Her name. “I told you that shit. Supposed to be a fucking secret.”

“I won’t.” Ryan shrugged. “I mean, you’ll probably tell her, right?”

Ben snorted, because he would tell Her. The first damn thing he’d do when She got home was pull her into a long kiss and grumble against her lips that he’d told Ryan. And She’d hit his chest and give him a flat glare, teasing him about really not understanding the secret part of Secret Santa, and that would be it. 

And Ryan fucking knew that. He knew that She and Ben didn’t lie to each other, and that when she hit Ben it was never painful or angry, and when Ben rolled his eyes at Her it was because she was a pretty fucking brat with a smart mouth, and he wouldn’t have her any other damn way. Ryan knew they’d never hurt or be really mad at each other, and he was finally starting to fucking get that they’d never hurt or be mad at him. 

It was why, when Ben shook his head and kept walking—never going faster than Ryan could keep up with—the kid’s heart stayed even, and his face remained relaxed. Relaxed for Ryan, so still a little fucking small and nervous, but without panic or fear. And that was as much as Ben could ask for, because he wouldn’t have Ryan any other way either.

“What else do we need.” Ben asked, keeping his vigilant watch on the store around them as Ryan responded.

“Um, I need scrabble for Kimiko?” Ryan mumbled Her name, and Ben’s whole fucking body roared with love from the goddamn sound of it. “Needs something too- as well.” Ryan corrected himself, and Ben chuckled at his puffed-out chest and toothy smile.

“Good work, kid.” He muttered, patting Ryan on the back. “Got ideas?”

“For-“

Ben said Her name, and She glowed a little around his skull. He really fucking missed Her, and if he couldn’t sense that she was a least half-way across the damn city he’d go find Her. Keep his gaze away from Her stupid fucking surprise, but also keep Her by his side. Make Her help him and Ryan with this shit, because She’d know what to do. She always fucking knew what to do.

He’d missed Ryan’s answer. Ben had gotten so lost in the instinct of Her, alight in his body, that he hadn’t heard what the hell Ryan was trying to get her.

“What.”

“Butterfly bush.” Ryan mumbled, staring sheepishly at the cart. “I read about them in my science class? They’re plants that attract butterflies, and you said she likes butterflies? I dunno-“

“Ryan.” Ben snapped, making his voice stern. He didn’t know how to do that soft, sweet shit She did, but Ryan seemed to understand his own, harsher words just as well. Understand that Ben wasn’t fucking mad, just firm in what he said. “That’s a good fucking idea. They sell them here?”

Ryan nodded slowly, his heart slowing to an easy rhythm. “I think so?”

“Well,” Ben shrugged, looking around for some sort of sign that said Perfect fucking gift for amazing wife. “Let go find it.”

It took half a fucking hour, but they found the butterfly bush. Stashed in the back of the goddamn store, real damn pretty and all fucking pink and green. She’d fucking love it. Ben grunted that to Ryan, that this was a damn good gift, and the kid looked like he might explode with joy and pride. Christ, Ben might explode with joy and pride. They’d managed to get everything She’d asked them to—gifts, clothing, food—plus some extra shit like the pancakes, nobody had died, and he and Ryan were doing an amazing fucking job knowing Her. Ben had all his gifts for Her lined up, and they were fucking excellent, but the butterfly bush was a stroke of goddamn genius. Ben wasn’t sure where the hell Ryan got his brains from, because Ben wasn’t an idiot, but he wasn’t that fucking smart, and Homelander had been a goddamn pussy dumbass. Maybe the kid’s mom, Butcher’s dead wife, but a smart lady shouldn’t have married fucking Butcher.

She’d say people might argue that She shouldn’t be married to Ben, but that she also loved him and adored him, and didn’t really fucking care what random fucking pussies thought about them. That maybe Ryan’s mom had seen something better in Butcher, just like She saw something better in Ben. 

But that was why Ben was almost certain Ryan had to, somehow, against all fucking odds, be related to Her by blood. The kid was too generous like that, too kind like that, too fucking smart to be anything else. Ben could fucking see Her on Ryan’s face as they wandered through the store for Kimiko’s scrabble. See Her in the wide awe at all the stupid shit on the shelves, in the real, raw fucking happiness when they found what they were looking for. 

See Her in the slight, hopeful gape on Ryan’s face as the kid halted in front of a terrarium, tracking the turtle inside with bright eyes.

Fuck, Ben could hear Her in Ryan’s voice. Hear that soft, gentle nervousness She had when she asked Ben for something. The tone Ben could make himself say no to if he tried.

Shit.

“Can we get it?” Ryan whispered, pointing to the turtle, swimming real goddamn slow around its tank. “Please?”

Ben scowled. That thing was real goddamn small—easily crushable if he and Ryan weren’t careful—and alive. It was fucking alive. It would need to be fed and cared for, and fuck Ben if he was going to do that-

“I’ll take care of it.” Ryan added, and Ben realized the kid had turned to look at him. Look at him with fucking puppy eyes. “I promise. It’ll stay in my room, and I’ll feed it and watch it and clean its tank-“

“Ryan.” Ben grunted. “Why the fuck do you want a turtle-“

“I like them.” Ryan glanced back to the tank. “They’re really peaceful. And, um, I just think they’re cool. I’ve always wanted one.”

Ben raised his brows. “Always.”

Ryan nodded. “I, um, I couldn’t get one. Mom said it was because I was too young, but I think it was because of, of the thing-“

“Fine,” Ben grunted, glaring at the turtle. He’d been going to give in anyway, might as well do it before the kid got all fucking sad in the middle of the store. Where random fucking asscucks could film it and put it online. Ryan could cry in the car, or when they were home, or when Ben was allowed to break phones and faces when people tried to exploit his son’s pain. Not when it could be avoided by buying a stupid fucking turtle. “But,” he said Her name, already reaching down the connection. “Has to approve this shit first. Deal?”

Ryan nodded eagerly, and Ben called Her name between their heads.

Benjamin. Is everything-

We’re fine. Ben glowered at the turtle, his voice a little lower than he’d like. Can we get Ryan a turtle.

There was a moment of silence before She responded, long enough for Ben to wonder if she somehow hadn’t heard him. What.

Ryan wants-

I heard you, Ben. But it’s December in Pennsylvania, where the fuck did you find a turtle for Ryan to want it.

Ben smirked into the air. Costco. This place is a fucking marvel, Sunshine, I got burger meat and pants-

I know how Costco works, my love. Why are you looking at turtles.

Ryan wants it.

She sighed in Ben’s head. I got that. He knows turtles can live for, like, twenty years, right?

Ben frowned. “Ryan, how long do turtles live.”

“Some can live for fifty years! And they’re so small, isn’t that cool?!” 

Ben grunted, reaching back to Her. He knows. And he promised to take care of it.

Where does he want to keep it-

His room.

There was a beat of silence, and Ben knew She was considering it. He could practically fucking feel Her brain thinking.

I’m worried he’ll crush it, Ben. She mumbled in Ben’s head. He’s so much better at controlling his strength now, but if something happens on accident, he won’t forgive himself. 

I know. But I’ll make sure that shit doesn’t happen. Ben watched Ryan carefully as he muttered to Her in the silence. I’ll carry it home, and Ryan and I can do some grip exercises to practice. He really fucking wants it, Sunshine. 

She let out a long, slow breath in the sounds of the store around them. Okay. He can have one. But it’s your ass if something happens to it, Benjamin.

Ben grunted an agreement, rolling his eyes at the air, but he knew She could feel his affection, warm and stupidly fucking gooey in his body. Feel the radiance over his ribs when he nodded an affirmation at Ryan, and the kid grinned so widely it made something in Ben’s chest goddamn explode with pride.

“Thank you!” Ryan bounced slightly on his toes, grabbing Ben into a tight hug. “I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Thank you-“

“You’re welcome, kid.” Ben grunted, because She’d punch him if he just dismissed Ryan’s thanks. “Let’s grab it and get home.”

Ryan didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the goddamn week. She didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week. She got home from Her secret, kissed Ben with a bright, happy hum Ben could feel everywhere around him, and let Ryan drag Her upstairs to look at the turtle. 

“Oh, wow.” She titled Her head at it, crouching next to the tank with Ryan watching Her nervously. “That’s adorable, Ry. Have you named it?”

“Um, maybe? I’m not sure it’s a good name-“

“What is it?”

Ben could hear Ryan’s heart stutter nervously. “Bowser?”

She laughed. An amused, perfect, easy laugh with a pretty smile and nod that made Ryan’s heart ease, and Ben’s entire existence so fucking good. 

“I like it.” She nudged Ryan’s shoulder with her’s, still watching the turtle. “It looks like a Bowser. And if we get a cat we can name it Koopa.”

Ben glared at Her. “We are not getting a fucking cat, Sunshine.”

“Fine,” She smiled at him, pretty eyes sharp and amused on his, full of love Ben could feel in the whole goddamn world. “A dog.”

He rolled his eyes, Her smile only grew, and Ben couldn’t find it in himself to be really, truly pissed. She was too fucking perfect for that. Everything was too fucking perfect for that lately. Because the next week passed in a blur, and it was almost all perfect, happy shit like this. It was kissing Her and helping Ryan wrap his gifts, eating dinner with his goddamn family every night, talking to them and watching tv with them and laughing with them.

Even work wasn’t entirely fucking dogshit. Kimiko and Frenchie were just a weird as before, but Ben was used it by now, and he’d even started to pick up some of that sign language shit. Enough to understand what gestures were names and when Kimiko was asking him a basic question about Her or Ryan. How they were doing—really fucking good—and if She would be picking Ben up from work. On office days She usually did, and they were always there for an extra damn hour as She and Kimiko got caught in a conversation, Ben and Frenchie standing awkwardly off to the side.

But Ben had adapted to that as well. Learned how to talk to Frenchie more, enough to ask him for a favor. A favor for Her that Frenchie had said yes to without hesitation, and they’d been working on for about two weeks now. 

And everything was really damn good.

If every rogue supe in the country didn’t take a fucking break until New Years, Ben was going to start killing people again. 

His whole damn day had been spent in the car. Four hours to New York and back, half the time it had taken to do the actual fucking mission. And the only reason they weren’t in and out of that in twenty minutes was because the bitch had decided to run, and she didn’t have a no-murder rule. And Ben was fucking busy. They had to get their tree today, Ryan had to be picked up from school, and Ben had to talk to Her about what the fuck they were going to do about Butcher’s gift.

He wished She was here. She’d have backed the Ice Lady—or Queen or Countess or Duchess, Ben couldn’t be fucked to remember—into a corner in ten damn minutes, and they wouldn’t have had to use Frenchie’s dogshit flamethrower to sedate the bitch and get her into the van. She wouldn’t have sneered and mocked the SFBI agents when they turned the Ice Lady in, or spilled coffee on their evidence for arrest, dragging out the process another forty minutes. She wouldn’t have missed the exit off the goddamn highway.

Actually, if Ben was being honest about the woman he loved, She probably would have missed the exit. She was amazing at fucking everything, but not driving. 

But She was also fucking fast. Ben would’ve been home a damn hour ago if She had gone with them. 

He wouldn’t have been ten minutes late to pick up Ryan either.

He hadn’t stop to change when Butcher dropped him back home. He’d grabbed the keys and fucking booked it to the school. Ryan would be okay by himself until Ben got there—and Ben would explain, because the kid wasn’t allowed to think She and Ben would ever fucking forget about him—and She hadn’t reached down the connection to ask why the hell Ben was late, so everything was fucking fine. Butcher and his reminders about getting the Ice Lady paperwork in before Friday could shove it, because anyone could fill out a damn form, and Ben might have been the one who actually caught Ice Lady, but Kimiko had been right goddamn next to him. If it was that fucking critical, she could do it. Ryan was more important. 

He didn’t bother to lock the car when he parked it. The time it took to get Ryan wasn’t long enough to hot-wire, and if anyone tried to steal Ben’s property, he’d throw them onto the roof. And Ben’s property was a frost-bitten jacket and gun. Only a dumb fucking pussy would try and jack a car that had a gun.

Picking Ryan up from school was always a fucking trial. It was a nice school—She’d found it, working her perfect fucking ass off to make sure they treated Ryan like any other damn kid—and most of the kids weren’t entirely little shits, but Ben was one more goddamn incident from punching a parent. There were dumb ones, who seemed to think Ryan was some sort of fucking threat to their children, and the fucking pussies who’d been brainwashed by Vought and Homelander, who didn’t like Her. The school had received a petition to ban Her from school events, because She was a murderer and felon—She’d been fucking pardoned, and everyone She’d murdered goddamn deserved it—and She’d spent a handful of days quiet and hollow. Only eating when Ben put food in front of Her and told her to, only moving mechanically—her every gesture and breath over-controlled—and only sleeping when Ben held Her and ran his hands through her hair, muttering soothing words.

“You’re not a murder,” Ben had said Her name, kissing her brow as She clung to his chest and his whole fucking body felt ill. “You’re a good fucking person. Better than any of those pussies-“

“They’ve never,” She’d taken a long, slow breath, and curled her smoking hands in his shirt. “They’ve never killed anyone. Good people aren’t murders-“

“Good is respective.” He’d tugged lightly on Her hair, just enough for Her to look up at him. Pretty, sharp eyes that were glossy and heavy, that made something in Ben’s chest fucking contort and ache. “They’ve never had to kill Homelander, or Sage, or fight their fucking asses off to keep the damn world spinning. You did, and you didn’t ever fucking break.” He’d dropped his brow to Her’s, holding Her soft, tragic gaze. “You’re fucking perfect, and they’re just sad, weak fucking idiots.”

She’d nodded, letting out a strangled, slightly pleading sob, and Ben had understood. He’d just had to stay there, and hold Her until this passed. It always fucking passed, and Ben always stayed by Her side until it did. Until Her body went loose in his arms, and her hands drifted up to hold his face as she offered him a soft—but really fucking real—smile. 

“Subjective.” She’d whispered, playing with the hair of his beard. “Good is subjective.” Ben had rolled his eyes, and Her smile had grown. “Smartass.”

She’d hummed, guiding Ben’s lips down to her’s, kissing him until Her heart was at an even pace again, and Ben could breathe again. 

I’m your smartass, Pretty Boy.

Damn right you’re mine, he’d pulled Her lower lip between his teeth, smirking at Her breathy moan. I fucking love you, brat.

I love you too. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck, and Ben rolled them over, keeping Her safe and warm and happy under his body.

He’d kissed Her into the mattress until there weren’t any ghosts of horror over her beautiful features, until that presence of Her felt like a halo over his head. 

Am I allowed to kill them. He’d said between their heads when they’d separated, his weight dropped carefully over her body as She played with his hair and he rubbed circles on her skin. Just fucking one, Sunshine. Let me kill one.

Maybe one.

Her answer had been quick, and Ben had looked up at Her with a surprised grin. You’ve got a fucking name?

I didn’t say that-

Is it Pigtail’s dad-

No-

Puppy Pack’s mom-

Ben-

Glitter Glasses-

Benjamin. She’d whacked his chest, giving him a stern glare that didn’t even make him flinch, because that was Her glare when she wasn’t really mad at Ben, but was just being a too kind, too perfect miracle of a woman. Learn the children’s names.

He’d given Her a flat look. I’ll learn their dumbfuck names when they stop acting like Ryan’s got the fucking plague. Who is it.

You’re not allowed to say anything. Or kill anyone.

Ben had nodded, watching Her carefully as she took in a long breath, burying Her face as she answered.

You know the girl who always wears the leopard-print boots-

Yeah. Cat Boots.

Georgia, Ben. Her name is Georgia.

I don’t give a fuck what her name is. He’d frowned, scanning over her pretty, nervous pout. It’s her mom. Fake Face.

She’d flushed slightly. Maybe.

In the moment, Ben had just grunted, flipped them over, and fucked up into Her until she unraveled with bright eyes and needy moans above him. He’d praised Her and kissed Her until she was only happy, then made Her dinner and grumbled from across the table that, if She wanted, he would kill Fake Face. 

She’d dismissed him, because she was too fucking good and knew that Ben would carve himself open and crush his body under a million scalpels and boxes of gas before he left Her. 

Fake Face should count herself lucky that She was so kind and forgiving and perfect, and even more fucking lucky that Ben loved his wife more than goddamn anything. That Ben wasn’t going to kill anyone, because She’d be sad about it.

But Ben still really fucking wanted to kill Fake Face. She was a fucking annoyance, looked at Ben like he was some sort of slab of meant, and looked at Her like she was the scum of the goddamn earth, when this lady couldn’t hold a candle to Her. It was like comparing a burnt-out matchstick to the fucking sun, and Ben didn’t understand how anyone—even a jealous, dick-riding plastic bitch—could look at Her and not feel like they were seeing something holy.

Fake Face had introduced herself to Her and Ben the first time they’d picked up Ryan. There had been quick handshakes, sickly sweet words from Fake Face, and grunts from Ben as he’d pretended to listen, mostly frowning down at Her. She’d been clinging to Ben’s arm as Fake Face asked him if he was really as strong as the stories said, and She’d felt heavy and sick in Ben’s body.

What’s wrong. He’d muttered down the connection, and She’d shaken her head slightly. 

She hates me.

Ben had frowned at Fake Face, who was getting dangerously fucking close to touching him. Why the fuck would she hate you.

I don’t know. But touching her, it- She’d swallowed, nails digging into Ben’s arm. It felt someone was pressing a gun right against my brain. And my hands were itchy, and my skin felt wrong, and it was bad, Ben. I didn’t like it.

That had been enough for him. Ben had been happy to hate Fake Face just from how the bitch made his perfect, infinitely amused and kind wife look like She’d been kicked in the stomach. Then there had been more pickups. Pickups where it was just Her, or just Ben, and Fake Face seemed to have two separate personalities. With Her, she was crude and cold, and they’d figured out fast that the lady was, at least, a Vought supporter. Likely a Homelander supporter as well. And Ben had been ready to snap some fucking spines when the flirting had started. Unwelcome praise about how Ben was such a good man, for being there for Ryan—he’d defiantly tried to kill Ryan, only two years ago, but Fake Face seemed to forget about that part—and calling him Soldier Boy before correcting herself to Ben with fake giggle that hurt Ben’s ears, and the questions about how a man like him got mixed up in this whole mess.

It seemed like a pretty fucking simple answer. Ben had fucked up, and he’d repented, and now he was here. Still repenting, still with Ryan, always with Her.

Then Fake Face had called him Benjamin, and—after nearly breaking his jaw and her face—Ben had started being incredibly fucking careful with the timing of how he picked up Ryan, just to avoid this pest of a woman and her skin-crawling advances on him. He knew She did the same thing, and that enough made Ben’s blood feel fucking heated and wired.

He knew his reputation. He knew that he was a sex symbol, that he’d been the fuel of wet dreams for a damn near century. He also knew that, if he could, he’d rip all those fucking fantasies out of people’s minds on principle alone. Ben was fucking Her’s, and you couldn’t pay him with all the gold in the world to look anywhere but Her. It would be pointless anyway, because Ben couldn’t look away from Her if he fucking tried. She was everything beautiful in the universe, and then more. She was a force of goddamn nature, and alive in Ben’s body, and if his eyes were gauged out and his nose was cut off he’d still feel how fucking beautiful she was in a deep, critical part of his body near his heart.

Ben needed to figure out a way to shut Fake Face up for the rest of her fucking life. He wasn’t allowed to kill her, and they were still being careful around the school, so he couldn’t call her a plastic, disrespectful fucking bitch, and those were all his ideas.

He’d ask Her later. She’d have a way that didn’t end in having to explain to Neuman why they’d had to send a cleanup team to a high school. 

Right now Ben just needed to stand—rigid and taut—as Fake Face walked up to him with a well-crafted, sickening smile and he waited for Ryan to get the fuck back to the pickup spot. 

“Ben!” Fake Face chirped, bouncing to stand right fucking in front of Ben’s path. “I haven’t seen you at pickup all week-“

“My wife,” Ben grunted Her name, because he was going to say it at every damn possible opportunity. “She’s been doing it.”’

“Hm, well, I haven’t seen her-“

Well, She fucking hates you. “She’s fast. Busy.”

Fake Face hummed, tapping a finger to her chin in mock thought. “Ah, I understand. I’m a career woman as well, but my Georgia is always my top priority-“

Ben wasn’t allowed to kill the bitch. His fists were clenched and the glow in his chest would just have to be slightly released to disintegrate Fake Face, but Ben wasn’t allowed to kill her. “Ryan is our top priority.” Ben grunted. “She just doesn’t have time to fucking gossip.”

“I see. Does she have time for you, Ben?”

His vision was red, and he refused to fucking answer. If he answered, he’d spit and roar and draw attention. He didn’t fucking need attention. He needed to take his son home to pick up his wife, then take them both to get a Christmas Tree. A big one, that Ben would put stupid rainbow lights on and She and Ryan would smile at.

Fake Face seemed to realize Ben wasn’t going to respond, and switched the topic with only a slight cough. “Are you getting each other gifts for Christmas? My ex husband and I never did, he said that it was-“

“We are.” Ben snapped. “Her idea.”

It had been Her idea. She’d grabbed his face between her hands and said Benjamin, I love you very much, and if we don’t get each other stupid gifts for Christmas, I’ll kick you in the balls. 

“Oh, well, if you need gift ideas-“

Ryan walked out of the school with some of the best timing Ben had ever goddamn seen, and something bright bloomed over Ben’s ribs as Ryan’s face split into a wide smile.

“Ben!” He shouted, closing the remaining space in only a few steps and pulling Ben into a likely bone-breaking hug. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m fucking here,” Ben muttered, holding Ryan until the kid decided he’d had enough. “Butcher’s just a slow dumbfuck. Let’s go.”

Ryan nodded, starting past Ben to the parking lot, and Ben had almost entirely forgotten about Fake Face until she was grabbing his bicep, and he had to tense his every muscle to halt his instinct to slam her fucking head to the floor.

“What the fuck are you-“

Fake Face was giving him that cheap, twisted smile and those syrupy fucking words, not at all caring how she’d damn near just been killed. “Jewelry.”

Ben scowled, jerking his arm fully from her touch. “Speak fucking clearly-“

“Ladies love jewelry.” Fake Face said, giving Ben a pout that made her look constipated. “I’m sure your wife would love some.” Ben fucking loathes the way she said wife. Like it was a lie and not the only thing he’d ever been sure of. “And I’d love to help you pick some out for her.”

Ben looked Fake Face dead in the eye, not bothering to contain his disgust for her and that awful proposition, and never bothering to hide the sheer fucking pride and love that existed in his body for Her. He hoped She felt it back home, where Ben could sense her, peaceful and content and likely wearing one of Ben’s shirts. Maybe She’d ask Ben what he was doing, and he’d get to hear Her voice. Tell Her how he was defending her honor. 

“She doesn’t wear jewelry.” He snapped, his eyes narrowing. “She’d fucking burn it off when I made her cum. Waste of money.”

Fake Face gaped, and Ben didn’t bother to wait for her to speak before he marched after Ryan, clasping him on the shoulder and steering him fully back to the car. He might have just made shit worse. Ben knew there was a possibly that Fake Face would think he’d been flirting, and would keep trying stupid fucking moves. But Ben was pretty sure he’d also made it real fucking clear that he wasn’t planning on fucking anyone but Her ever again. That was the whole point of marrying Her. Making Her and the rest of the world really fucking get that they belonged to each other, and anyone who tried to take them away from each other should be prepared to face the goddamn consequences. Consequences Fake Face better fucking understand, because Ben was weak compared to Her. Everyone was weak compared to Her. If She wanted to, she could burn out the sky. 

If She had been present for that conversation, Fake Face might have ended up a husk of a bitch on the pavement. It was why Ben only told Her about this shit when they were in their room, where all She’d do is scowl and pout and glare at him, then start to climb up Ben’s body as She kissed him like she was trying to leave a mark. She knew there wasn’t a damn thing to worry about—Ben made fucking sure of it—but that didn’t stop Her from grinding in his lap or clawing at his chest when he finger fucked Her.

It was just another fucking perfect thing about Her. How She was a terrifyingly brilliant, sharp woman who adored the whole world, and She went slack and blissful under only Ben’s touch. How She wanted him, wanted Ben so fucking much she’d get all fucking angry at the idea of him being looked at.

“You’re a fucking person,” She’d grumbled once, Her face buried in Ben’s chest. “It’s, it’s rude-“

“I’m well fucking aware that I’m a person,” Ben had drawled Her name, tilting her chin up so she could see his teasing smirk. “I think you’re just possessive.”

She’d flushed. “I’m not possessive-“

“You are.” Ben had muttered, and leaned down to ghost one, soft kiss over her lip. “It’s fucking hot.”

It was. It made Ben’s whole body buzz and hum and fucking glow, that he was wanted enough for Her to be possessive. Not his body or name or image, Ben. Ben was fucking loved enough that She lost her damn mind when people acted like he was just a face. And then She’d turn around a call him Pretty Boy, and beg him to fuck Her, and it was so much goddamn better because She was the one doing it. 

And Ben fucking loved Her. His whole fucking life was Her and Ryan. His whole damn purpose wasn’t Fake Face, it was finally getting that fucking tree. It was letting Ryan chose the tree—as long as it was a proper, green, massive fucking pine tree, Ben didn’t fucking care what it looked like—and telling Her about Fake Face as She was tucked into his side. It was making fun of that bitch with Her, and setting up the tree when they got home so Ben could get the lights up. It was seeing how beautiful She’d be into the shifting colors, how She’d probably look like some sort of fucking siren or painting when she was cast in shadows under the glow.

It was about finally having something so fucking good, and caring for it, and never goddamn losing it.

“How was school, kid.” Ben asked, dropping behind the wheel as Ryan pulled his buckle on. “Any shit I should know about-“

“No!” Ryan shook his head, his smile never faltering. “It was a really good day, Ben. We’re learning about Feudal Japan, did you know one of the first ever novels was written by a handmaiden?”

“No, I don’t fucking read. But,” Ben pushed on, before Ryan even had a chance to frown. “I damn near didn’t finish school. You’re a hell of a lot fucking smarter than that. Keep talking.”

Ryan didn’t keep talking, and when Ben glances at him he had a soft, nervous expression.

“What-“

Ryan mumbled Her name. “She said not to let you call yourself stupid.”

Ben snorted. “Fucking sounds like her. I’m fine kid-“

“But you’re not stupid!” Ryan protested. “You taught me how to use my powers! And how to grill! And about chemicals! I passed my science test because of that.” Ben could see Ryan’s chest puff slightly in his periphery. “Mr. Kline said he’d never seen someone eat the samples, not need to go to the nurse, and get a hundred percent.”

It was hard for Ben to fight the small grin on his face, and damn near impossible to stop the flash of pride through his body. “Fine. Tell me about the stupid fucking book.”

Ryan seemed satisfied, launching into a history lesson Ben really fucking tried to listen to, but didn’t understand a damn word of. He was practiced at this, though. Between Her and Ryan, Ben was a fucking master at grunting at all the right moments, nodding and shrugging like he got what they were saying, and letting them tire themselves out. Then he’d ask a few questions because it made their faces light up with joy, stash a few of their answers just to prove that really did fucking try. For them, Ben would always fucking try.

And She must have felt it. How Ben’s entire body was focused on Her, on Ryan, because She became colorful and alive around his head as Her perfect, musical voice hummed in his head.

You’re late, Benjamin. 

Blame Butcher and Ice Lady.

Ice Lady?

Ice Lady. Ben repeated, frowning into the air. With the fucking ice-

Powers? Ice Lady with the ice powers? Ben could almost see Her pretty, teasing smile, and he rolled his eyes.

Brat.

Cunt. What did Butcher do?

Asshole was pussying around when we turn Ice Lady over. Made me fucking late to get Ryan.

But you-

I got him. Ben glanced over to Ryan, who had settled into his seat with an easy silence, bobbing his head slightly to the radio. He’s good.

Did you-

No incidents. Said today was good.

And-

He told me about his classes. Going well. Ben smirked at the road. Your faith in me is fucking astounding, Sunshine.

She scoffed between their heads. Fuck you, Ben, I’m just worried about him-

He’s fine. And I’d be happy to fuck you, beautiful, but you’re going to have to keep it together until tonight. Think you’ll survive?

You’re such an asshole. 

You love me.

I do, you dummy. She sighed in the hum of the engine. Drive faster. I’m bored.

Ben grunted, and pressed the pedal down. He’d still be safe—Ryan was in the car, and Ben’s own need to see Her didn’t outweigh the kid’s safety—but he wanted to get the fuck home. Back to Her.

She was waiting in the driveway when they pulled in. Ben hadn’t even stopped the car when she moved to stand at the driver’s side, hugging herself as She waited.

She looked so fucking happy. Just as beautiful as She’d always been, just as perfect, but fucking happy. Bouncing slightly on Her toes as Ben grunted that Ryan should go put his shit away before they left, smiling at them through the window in such an easy, natural way it made Ben’s chest feel soft. Made him goddamn glow.

He’d barely stepped out of the car when She was on him. Pulling Ben down by his shirt into a long, deep kiss, sighing into his mouth when he picked Her up off the ground, and wrapping Her arms around his neck when they pulled apart.

“Hi,” She whispered, her smile all joy and adoration that made Ben fucking high. “Ready to get a tree?”

“Fucking born it.” Ben nipped at Her nose, carefully setting Her back down on the pavement. “I’m driving.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You can’t stop me-“

Ben gave Her an amused, flat look. “I could very fucking easily stop you, Sunshine.”

Her eyes narrowed as he raised his brows in a silent challenge. Big talk, Pretty Boy- 

You know it’s not just talk, beautiful. He winked at Her, holding Her gaze. You’re not fucking driving.

But-

No. Ben kissed Her brow, grinning against her skin. Not a chance in damn hell.

Asshole.

Yep.

She rolled her eyes, leaning into his side and frowning at the front door of their house. Is Ryan okay? I know you said he had a good day-

He’s fine, Ben muttered Her name, shifting her against his chest and wrapping his arms around Her stomach. Fucking bounced out of the school like it was his damn birthday. Saved my ass as well.

Saved your ass? She tilted Her head back, frowning up at him. What-

Fake Face. Ben grunted, and She sighed. I still think you should let me fucking kill the bitch-

No murder, Ben. Not very Christmas spirit of you. She tapped her fingers on his arm, offering him a small smile. And I kind of like that these are our problems now. I can handle someone throwing themselves at you. And I get it. 

Ben raised his brows. You get it?

Yeah. She shrugged, dropping Her head back on his shoulder, and Ben could feel all Her love rushing through his body. I mean, you’re very fucking pretty, my love. I’d throw myself at you.

He snorted. No, you fucking wouldn’t.

Yes I would-

Don’t lie, Sunshine. Ben held Her pouting glare with a smirk. You never fucking threw yourself at me, you barely damn liked me. 

I liked you, She mumbled between their heads. I love you, Ben-

I love you too, brat, but you were never that pathetically annoying and desperate. You never fucking needed to be, he squeezed his arms around Her, kissing her brow and muttering Her name in the wind. You already have me.

She smiled at him, kissing the underside of his jaw. Very romantic, Benjamin.

He rolled his eyes, dropping his face to Her neck, sucking on that one spot. Shut up.

Even as She molded into him, whimpering slightly as Ben kissed up her neck and behind her ear, Ben knew She was fucking right. It was a damn good thing that the worst shit in their lives right now was Fake Face and Ryan getting changed so damn slowly. Not life or death, no screaming or blood, just Her swaying in Ben’s arms and his whole body feeling fucking alive in her presence. And neither of those worst things would be difficult to deal with. Fake Face was just an annoying bitch, and Ryan was finished in the next five minutes. Ben lived a life where he could kiss his wife until She was slack jawed and glossy eyed, guide her into the passenger’s seat of their care, and get his family out of the driveway before She had a chance to start thinking again. Now the worst problems were that they needed that goddamn tree, and Ben had to ignore Her pretty glare as he drove them to the farm.

You cheated. She grumbled in his head, playing with his hand in Her’s, and Ben smirked.

I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, Sunshine. I’d never fucking cheat, I’m a goddamn gentleman-

Fuck you-

Not with Ryan in the car, darling. Ben’s grin became toothy and wide as She stuck her tongue out at him, his attention turning to Ryan’s pale face in the rearview mirror. “You good back there, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m just, um-“ Ryan swallowed, his heart a little uneven. “I’ve never gotten a Christmas tree before? Do we have to do anything?”

She twisted in Her seat, giving Ryan a sweet smile and soft words. “You don’t have to do anything. If you see one you like, tell us, and we’ll take care of the rest of it.”

Ben squeezed Her thigh as he glanced back at Ryan. “It’s real damn easy, kid. You’ll be fine.”

“What if I, what if I pick the wrong one-“

“It’s a fucking tree.” Ben gave Ryan a firm look through the mirror. “Long as it fits in the house and has branches, it can’t be wrong.”

Ryan nodded slowly. “Mom always got lights for our tree-“

“We got lights, Ryan.” 

She blinked at Ben. “We do? When did we-“

“Last week.” He grunted. “When you were off doing your mystery shit.” Which you still haven’t fucking told me about-

And I won’t until it’s relevant, Pretty Boy. “Ryan,” She frowned into the air, tapping Her finger’s over Ben’s hand. “Was that enough for shopping? Because I need to go back to Best Buy for Secret Santa-“

Ben shot Her a look, his brows drawn together. “I thought you finished that shit.”

“No, I got your gift,” She gave him a sweet smile. “This is for-“ She cut herself off, and Ben rolled his eyes. She wasn’t fucking fooling him, she’d been nowhere close to slipping up. “I can’t tell you-“

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He raised Her hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles. “Ryan, tell her about that book shit.”

Ryan’s face lit up, and Ben only got a light whack on his knee as she twisted to listen to Ryan’s repeated lecture about the Japanese lady and her book. She’d, apparently, already fucking known about the book, because of fucking course She did. The rest of the car ride was a conversation Ben tried—and fucking failed—to keep up with, and when they parked the sun had already dropped out of the sky, leaving them some of the last fuckers wandering the farm. 

It was better like that. Ryan could wander—Ben keeping a careful ear on his heartbeat—Ben could keep Her tucked safely under his arm as She lit a careful fire in her palm, and none of them had to worry about invasive fucking pussies trying to talk to them. Ryan and Ben could even throw snow at each other without worrying about accidentally murdering someone. 

“If I get hit,” She mumbled, her head leaning on Ben’s chest. “I’ll kick your ass, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorted, another ball of snow already in his fist as he scanned over the tree line, waiting for Ryan’s next strike. “What if fucking Ryan hits you, you’re not going to kick his ass-“

“Is it Ryan’s job to protect me?”

Ben gave Her an amused grin as she blinked at him with fake fucking innocence. “You’ve got a smart fucking mouth, brat-“

She shrugged. “You love it- Ben!”

He’d hauled Her up his chest, swallowing her squeak of surprise with a deep, sloppy kiss and turning his body to take the bullet of Ryan’s snowball.

“Fuck, Ben, I’m sorry-“

She and Ben both pulled back from each other with wide eyes, and Ben grunted as She half-climbed up his body to stare at Ryan. 

“Did you just say fuck?”

“Um,” Ryan’s voice was far too damn nervous, his heart rapid, and when Ben adjusted his body to see the kid, he was flushed and gaping. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-“

“I’m not mad, Ry,” She pushed out of Ben’s hold, offering Ryan a reassuming smile. “I just didn’t expect it.”

“Am I,” Ryan looked between Her and Ben with wide eyes. “Am I allowed to swear-“

“Of course you’re fucking allowed to swear,” Ben grunted, pulling Her back under his arm. “Do we look like goddamn hypocrite pussies to you, kid?”

“No?”

“Then swear as much as you fucking want. But,” Ben raised a finger, narrowing his eyes at Ryan. “You have to go find that tree.”

Ryan nodded, and his heart sounding a little more steady, and bounced back into the trees.

When Ben looked back to Her, she was smiling at him. A real, loving, soft smile that made Ben’s whole body pound and riot with Her. Just fucking Her. 

What-

You’re a good dad, Ben. Her smile widened, so fucking adoring it might kill him.

It’s not that big a damn deal-

No. She held Ben’s hand over her shoulders, letting him guide them after Ryan. It is. You’re an amazing, handsome, grumpy old dad. Ryan and I are very lucky to have you.

Ben only grunted, because he was fucking lucky to have them. For them to forgive him enough to let him stay, to offer him their trust and love when they were the only two, truly fucking good people in the world. Whatever.

She glared at him, but let it go, and they walked in silence for another few minutes—Ben’s whole existence only Her and Ryan’s heartbeats, just as fucking calm as they should always be—until she tugged on his arm.

I got an early gift for you, by the way.

What-

Butcher. I figured out what you can get him. I’ll show you when we get home.

Ben frowned into the dark. You’re getting his, and mine, and your secret fucker, and shit for Ryan.

Yeah. She shrugged. But those last three were really easy.

He raised his brows. Your secret shit was easy.

She hummed. Yep. My person’s really predictable, and loud about what they like. You just have to be around them for five minutes and you’d have figured it out as well.

It’s MM.

I’m not going to tell-

Annie.

Ben-

Hughie.

She sighed. Ben, I’m not telling you.

Ben narrowed his eyes at Her. It’s fucking Hughie.

I said I’m not telling you, cunt. She whacked his chest lightly. So shut the fuck up and drop it.

It was defiantly fucking Hughie. And Ben would’ve gotten Her to admit it—with enough teasing words, grumbled praise, and long kisses Ben could get Her to tell him fucking anything—but Ryan reappeared with a wide, bright expression.

“I found it!” He bounced on his toes, grinning between Her and Ben. “It’s that way, and it’s really big and spiky.”

She nodded, tilting Her head at the direction Ryan had pointed to. “Ben, if you go with Ryan, I can go find the tree-cutter people-“

Ben scoffed, keeping Her pressed against his side. “Don’t be fucking insane, Sunshine. Let’s go, kid.”

Ryan glanced at Her—Her attention focused on Ben with a heat he could feel over his ribs—but started walking, Ben pulling Her after him.

Ben-

I can get the tree, he muttered Her name, glancing down as he squeezed his hold on Her. We don’t need some pussy with a fucking saw.

Are you-

I’m fucking positive. He kissed the top of her head. Trust me.

She sighed, but nodded, and grew loose and easy in Ben’s body.

And he was right. Ryan presented the tree to them—he’d done a damn good job, and when Ben told him so the kid lit up like the fucking sun—and Ben barely grunted as he ripped it out of the ground.

He started moving without a damn word, supporting it on one shoulder, and smirked at Her open, pretty fucking gape as he twined his free hand into Her’s. Her heart was fluttering in Her chest, her beautiful face slack with need, and Ben felt something in his chest try to pound out of him, into Her.

Don’t fucking drool, Sunshine. He winked at Her, waiting for Ryan to be in his view before he started the walk back, and She just swallowed, Her voice breathless between their heads.

Fuck you-

I will, darling. When we get home I’ll throw you around as much as you fucking want. He shifted his grip on the tree, and felt his dick twitch as She half slumped into his body, her gaze pure fucking love and want. Swear it.

Ben never got to throw Her around. She’d nodded, tugging Ben to walk a little faster, and paid for the tree with  fingers tapping on the counter, but they’d barely made it halfway back to the house before She was asleep in the car. It wasn’t even that fucking late, but Ben saw Her body slump in the passenger’s seat—Her presence in his head turning into a natural, eternal and peaceful glow of beauty—and heard Her heartbeat slow a moment later. When he glanced in the rearview mirror, Ryan was knocked the fuck out as well, and he smiled. 

He left the tree on the roof when they got home, and got them both to bed. He unbuckled Ryan first—She’d kill Ben if he left Ryan in the cold car alone—and carried him up to his room with careful steps. 

“Ryan,” he muttered, setting the kid carefully on the bed. “Ryan, wake the fuck up.”

Ryan’s eyes blinked open, still clouded with sleep. “Ben, wha…” He trailed off with a yawn, and Ben sighed.

“Need to get changed, kid. And brush your teeth.”

“What’s goin’ on-“

“You’re going to bed.” Ben grunted. “But you’re not doing it in fucking ice-covered clothing. Change.”

Ryan nodded slowly, starting to shuffle around the room, and Ben returned to the car.

She was so fucking beautiful. There were glittering drops of melted snow on Her eyelashes, and her mouth was parted as a small amount of drool fell from Her perfect lips. He swiped his thumb over it, She barely stirred, and Ben realized she was knocked the fuck out. And he wouldn’t be waking Her up for the fucking world.

Ben carried Her upstairs—just as he’d done with Ryan—but when he reached their room he set Her down carefully, and stripped her himself. Careful slow movements that didn’t disturb her, changing Her into his shirt—not bothering with underwear—and tucking Her under their covers before going to check on Ryan.

The kid had passed out without turning his lights off or getting under the covers. Ben fixed both of those things, brushed some hair from Ryan’s forehead, and checked on that stupid fucking turtle so Ryan wouldn’t wake up to it dead. It was sleeping under a sun lamp with a damn worry in the world, and had more than enough food to last into the next three damn years. Ryan had been keeping his word, and the thing was growing like a fucking monster. And the kid seemed to damn love it, so Ben gave it a little fucking extra food as a silent, stupid thanks for doing whatever the hell it was doing to make Ryan smile.

She was still asleep when Ben returned. Curled into his side of the bed, Her face pressed into his pillow, and soft, incoherent mumbles falling out of Her mouth until Ben joined Her. She let out a blissful sigh as he pulled Her into his arms and tangled his legs with Hers, her pretty face buried in his chest and that flower shampoo she used like a goddamn drug. Making his body relax, because it was right where it should be, and his brain lull into an easy sleep.

Easy fucking sleep he’d get to wake up from in the morning without screams or tears, with his perfect wife still clinging to his body and all Her love alive inside of him. She’d get that promised fucking when She woke up as well, and he’d make everyone pancakes for breakfast, then drive Ryan to school. He’d grab the tree when he got back, wait for Ryan to get home before he put up the lights, and She’d watch them both with a smile before telling Ben what he should get Butcher.

Then it would be Christmas, and he’d get to give Her his goddamn amazing gift, and She’d kiss him, and everything would be so fucking good.

Ben’s life was really fucking good.

End Note: I don’t care if they don’t sell turtles at Costco in my universe they do.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask! (Separate from main taglist)

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @ej13928

@deansbbyx @generalmoonpolice

[weministertomonsters]

The Alien Emissary

Or, It's Hard To Be An Emissary When Everything In Space Hates You

➤ Wordcount - 1.9k (ignore the double spacing, the format always gets fucked when I write on my phone. I'll fix it later!)

──────────────────

Sweat drips down your temple as you yank the decelerator on the shiny new spacecraft you just stole from a bunch of angry aliens. When your superior broke protocol to squeeze every last drop of advantage out of the deal, the alien race you were negotiating with decided to solve the problem by lighting his ass on fire. Bye, Frank. The show of aggression made everyone trigger-happy, and within seconds, bullets were flying on what had once been neutral ground.

You’re not built for warfare. Your expertise lies in intergalactic extraterrestrial correspondence, preferably from the safety of a comfy spaceship. So you hauled ass and ran for shelter, which just so happened to be the Vathri shuttle; a smallish, compact transportation vehicle nowhere near as flashy as one of their motherships. You had no trouble finding the cockpit and silently thanked the stars for your former career in piloting as you got the shuttle off the ground.

Before the Vathri could notice what was happening, you had sealed the entrance ports to keep them out. There was plenty of spear-waving and shard-snapping, but none of them want to attack their own spacecraft, so you took off without a hitch. By the time they realized you’d taken their only mode of transportation, it was too late. You can only hope they have another way to call their mothership for a ride. You're not too worried because the tech-savvy Vathri are probably already tracking you, thirsting for blood.

You wipe the sweat from your brow and drop into the pilot’s seat, scanning the unfamiliar controls for a tracking system to make sure they can't locate you too easily. Despite your piloting experience, the Vathri controls are difficult to decipher, like trying to use a keyboard made for a foreign language. Every dial and button looks like a potential disaster. Two buttons in particular catch your attention—a blinking red one, ominous and foreboding, placed next to a glowy green button. Some real Matrix-level bullshit. After a moment’s hesitation, you reach for the green button.

A fuzzy sound echoes over the intercom, followed by a glitchy, deep voice: “Inadvisable.”

Well, shit.

“Who’s this? Are you the system?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder just in case. The voice came through the speakers, and there’s no one behind you.

The response takes a moment, but the voice comes again. "No."

"Who are you? Are you one of them?"

"Partially."

"What does that mean?"

"I am Vathri, but I am not with this contingent."

"Um, how's that?" You manage to find the hover feature and turn it on, multitasking figuring the shuttle out and talking to the voice.

"I am a prisoner of the Vathri State."

"Wait, so you're on this shuttle?" Your eyes widen in alarm.

"How else would we be in conversation? I am chained in the hold."

"Great, then stay there. The last thing I want to add to my list of crimes is assisting in a jailbreak," you mutter.

Now that you're hovering, the last thing you want is something sneaking up on you. There are much worse things than the Vathri out here. The Vathri you're talking to takes so long to speak again that you almost forget about it as you search the compartments on the dashboard for a manual. Unlikely, but you're not one to go without checking these kinds of things. Everything is scrupulously clean. There are even any bits and bobs in the compartments. The small square screen in front of you looks like it's for scoping, so you turn that on. Bingo. Your surroundings blink on the screen, which is nice and empty.

"A platoon of Vathri is headed your way," the intercom buzzes. "And they make haste."

"No!" You look at the screen and the prisoner is right.

An indicator has just shown up on the radar and it's coming up fast. The system beeps politely to let you know. You grab the controls and kick the little spacecraft into gear. You might not know A from B, but you do know how to fly things in general. The shuttle shoots forward smooth as butter sliding across a hot plate, and you grapple with the steering, which suddenly seems to have a mind of its own.

"Careful," you mutter, leaning back in the seat and reminding yourself to breathe.

You haven't got a helmet on to enhance your vision, so you have to rely on your human eyesight and just pray you don't fly straight into asteroid spray. There's probably a mode for that on the scoping system but it's beyond your understanding. You can't just mash buttons and hope something goes well. You're sweating again.

"I can assist you."

"I'm handling it," you snap, jolting in your seat. Your almost forgotten about them. "We're fine."

"You have little knowledge of the controls and have effectively made this spacecraft a potential coffin."

"How are you seeing what I'm doing anyway?" You demand, taking a hard right.

The shuttle wheels around so sharply that it does a neat little flip over your pursuers. There's a thump in the hold, and you wince.

"I guess you're not strapped in. Sorry," you mutter. You can't help but gasp when you see the behemoth of a ship that's after you. It's black and the gloss on the exterior makes it look slippery. It's clearly meant for stealth and packed with heavy artillery. The spiked flare on top resembles a shark's fin, and you nearly shear the hull of the shuttle open on it. That's how close the ship is.

"Shit!" You scream. "What the fuck is that?"

"A Deathglider," the imprisoned Vathri says. Their voice sounds far away. "Calm yourself, human. You will lose control."

"That thing is massive! Oh my god, I'm so fucked," you moan, pushing the acceleration as high as it can go.

The Deathglider is too big for quick turns, but it has triple the thrusters and once it curves around, it's quickly gaining on you again.

"I can pilot the craft."

"Not a chance!" You snap. "I'm managing!"

Indeed, you are. If you can turn the correct scoping mode on, you might be able to lose them in an asteroid field. If your sense of direction is still holding true, then you know from the briefing earlier today that there's one nearby. You're confident you can pull it off up until the Deathglider starts shooting at you. The first shot misses by a good twenty feet—or maybe that was a warning—and your mouth falls open as you see the metal shaft of the bullet burning past the cockpit window.

"I'm human, you assholes!" You holler into the air. "I made a mistake, but I'm not that big of a threat! Stop with the missiles!"

"I do not believe they are much interested in you."

"Oh yeah? Then why in the blazes..."

"That was for me."

You gasp and steer to the left as the Deathglider takes a second shot. Another near miss; and now the system is giving you a warning of the engine overheating. Your ride isn't meant to accelerate this fast and for so long.

"What the hell did you even do, kill the Queen?" You demand. "Why do you have a army after you?"

"I fucked the Princess."

"Come again?"

"Is that not the word you use? To fuck—"

"I heard you the first time! I thought you were joking!" You screech.

"They are almost upon us. Let me help you."

This entire time, the Vathri's voice has remained at the same eerily unaffected pitch. If they're scared of dying in an exploding ball of shrapnel, they don't sound like it. You give up trying to do this alone when the next shot takes out one of the thrusters. Luckily, it clips clean off instead of going up in a fiery blaze, but unless there's a miracle, the shuttle will soon be dead in the black water of space.

"Tell me what to do," you say.

"Press the third button to the left of the scoping system. It will mask us. Then turn and fly underneath the Deathglider. It will buy us a few minutes. Long enough to unlock my—"

"Okay, third button, got it." You're panting as the system starts making a blaring sound to warn you of the incoming projectile which is a huge ship hurtling towards you.

You press the button, flip the shuttle over, and dip under the Deathglider with what feels like moments to spare. You book it in the other direction, so concentrated on getting away that it takes you a while to notice that everything is invisible. Including yourself. The visual of space stretching above and beneath you, sparkling with stars, is impossibly beautiful. At the same time, not being able to see your body creates a disconnect with your brain, and your vision starts to go all funny.

"Press the red button!" Finally, there's some haste in that voice. You feel a warm ping of smugness.

"Huh... What button?" You mumble as your ears pop from the pressure. "What?"

"The red-" What comes after that is a jumble of Vathri that grates in your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

It's just enough to prevent you from falling asleep and remind you that you're in some kind of danger. The Vathri told you to do something... Your body moves like it's in a pool of syrup. You know your hands are there somewhere, but you can't see them and everything feels numb. You pat the invisible dashboard, poking at things. You press something and the shuttle powers down and starts to float, tipping belly-up like a bloated fish. With what feels like the last of your energy, you smack your hand down in the spot where you remember the red button to be.

Nothing happens, or so you think. Your eyes start to close. You're strapped into the seat, but it feels like the seatbelt came loose at some point and you're slipping. Your head seems to be drifting away from your body. Suddenly, blinding lights sting your eyes, which snap open and stream with prickling pain. You're coughing and gasping for air as the pressure lifts off of you and you're able to breathe again. The interior has returned, and the scenery of space is whizzing by outside the window as the shuttle flies. You unclip your seatbelt and stand, bumping into something.

It takes a moment for your vision to connect to your brain, which fires up with an enthusiastic thought: that's an absolute unit of an alien. The imprisoned Vathri is now standing right in front of you, leaning over the controls. You did it, you set him free. Your movements still feel a little wobbly, so when you lean in to see what he's doing, you sort of tip off balance against his side. He's warm and it's nice. He glances at you.

"Did you do it? Are we safe?" You ask.

"We have bought ourselves a few hours." He straightens and turns to you. "I apologize for the oversight with the cloaking. I did not realize it would affect you so."

"It's nothing a few minutes won't fix," you reply woozily.

Famous last words, because you end up passing out.

──────────────────

I'm aliveee! Passing out is the easiest way to close a scene but I think I use it too often. Oops? Also, are the spaceship shenanigans accurate to scifi? Don't know, don't care. I had lots of fun writing it and I intend to write more. I have another story somewhere that is very similar to this one. They're kind of the same idea that I just keep sort of rewriting until I'm happy with it? I think I'm happy with it now.

[cute-little-fly]

Random thoughts about Octavia and Stolas after sinsmas

I trully hope Octavia doesn’t get any hate after this episode, and also, Stolas deserves to be happy beyond his daughter. This two things are true at the same time. I hope that more people understand this. We don’t need more division in this fandom.

Octavia thinks her father was the one who broke the family, that, even if it was in shambles the family could have been ok if Stolas was ok with them, if Stolas accepted them. She never realized Stella behaviour was not normal, and that Stella didn’t loved him at all since the beginning.

She thinks Stella resents him because of his cheating and that the family would be ok if he hadn’t done that with Blitzø, she thinks Stolas is guilty of breaking the family appart because Stolas sacrificing his emotional life was the only thing keeping the family together.

But she never saw it, and I think Stolas did well things by not putting that emotional load on Octavia’s shoulders… but she also needs to understand the complexity situation now that she is more grown up. Now she might feel guilty because Stolas was so unhappy…

She thinks Stolas suffered because of her, that he didn’t leave before because of her and that he endured suffering because of her, but what she doesn’t understand is that all of that was for LOVE and not for obligation.

Is natural that she is so hurt, and is also congruent to what has happened in earlier episodes. Where Stolas is always caught up about the divorce or Blitzø and leaves her behind. Is normal that makes her feel abandoned. Stolas never tried to talk bad things about Stella to Octavia, so, she doesn’t think that the cheating and Stolas suffering is mostly due to her mother. Now, Stella doesn’t care about talking shit about Stolas in front of Octavia, so is logical she puts the blame on him. That made me so angry, it is so unfair… This is something common for people that live under scapegoat abuse cycles.

“The family scapegoat is singled out and blamed for problems in the family. The burden of dysfunction of the group is placed on one member, regardless of the true causes of these issues. This person can be a child, step-child, troublesome uncle, or even a family friend. Being the family scapegoat can be a painful and isolating experience throughout a person’s lifetime.” Source: https://www.choosingtherapy.com/family-scapegoat/#:~:text=A%20family%20scapegoat%20is%20a,sibling%2C%20or%20another%20family%20member.&text=To%20put%20it%20simply%2C%20the,our%20own%20actions%20and%20mistakes.

Of course, from Via’s perspective this makes sense because she doesn’t understand a huge part of the situation and Stolas did fail her a lot of times and broke her trust. But I find interesting that Stella is not a good parent either, and she never wonders what role Stella had in Stolas unhappiness, or if there is something else behind everything.

Concluding remarks…

Octavia was just like Stolas in a lot of ways this episode. She confronted Andrealphus and looked Blitzø to give Stolas his pills, even if she is mad at him and thinks he doesn’t trully love her. The same way Stolas saved Blitzø even without knowing that our lizard loved him or cared about him at all or not. (Maybe this is a little bit off topic, but I found that poetic and shows deep down that they are the same).

Stolas has the possibility of recovering Octavia’s trust. He needs to build that trust again because he didn’t properly cared for it before, and now, Stella and Andrealphus took advantage of that. She would have heard Stolas if he did better things before, now he needs to make her feel he loves her. Not that she is just a responsibility, give her more.

Also, she needs to understand that Stella is the real source cause of most of the family issues, and Blitzø and how the cheating happened was just the culmination of all of it. That Stolas just couldn’t take it anymore; and just after experiencing a little bit of what he had been missing he got completely out of himself. Of course, Stolas could have done this better, but, he was very young when he married, and he didn’t had a proper social development.

I feel that a lot of people miss this, I don’t know if it is because Stolas is a dad. Even if Stolas at least had his stars, books and plants, he was emotionally neglected and lonely his entire life and that will always damage a person. Stolas needs someone to lean his shoulder on, to talk about problems and share emotions… that is a human need and Octavia as his daughter can’t do that for him, because he is the parent. He needed someone else in his life to do that and Stella failed in that.

We can understand both of them. Is tragic, but we know they will be ok :)

Sorry for the long rambling.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 1]

The first time Tim sees him, he is seven, standing by his Father's side, and bored out of his mind.

The 'party' is numbingly dull, full of adults, sparkling flutes of champagne, tiny sandwiches, and fake twinkling laughter. Tim doesn't understand how his parents find any of it interesting; in his opinion, nothing about just talking to people for hours and hours straight sounds as exciting as they make it look.

He wishes he could just go home already. Not that his time in the Drake estate gets any more exciting than bothering house elves or spending his day in the library, but it's still better than this.

Or, Tim thought so until he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering on the floor.

He turns around, and there are yelps and screams of surprise and angry swearing. It takes Tim a few seconds to realize what's going on - a few people are holding their hands to their faces, like trying to hide them, and he gets a glimpse of an elephant trunk peeking through the palms of one old lady.

And then, there's a sound of loud, delighted laughter ringing through the room, and the sound of footsteps, and-

"DANIEL!" Tim hears Mr. Masters, the host of the event, yell at the top of his lungs.

A moment later, Tim sees a boy zooming past him, elbowing the adults on his way to push through the crowd and still cackling like a madman. Tim doesn't get a good look at him, what with the boy running so fast he almost trips, but he does notice the messy black hair and the large, knitted blue sweater that looks too big on the boy's body.

"Daniel Jackson Fenton, come back this instant!" Mr. Masters calls again, his thunderous steps louder than all the yelling around them.

The boy doesn't even deign him with a look over his shoulder. Instead, he darts towards the nearest window, opens it with what seems to be practiced ease, and climbs on the windowsill. Only then does he look back to the chaos he created in the room full of respectable guests, and grins.

Tim blinks. He's never seen anyone smile like this, all teeth and mischief, and cheeky excitement.

"What, too old to catch me, Vlad?" He sticks his tongue at Mr. Masters, and just for a moment, Tim is scared the man is going to lunge at him. Yet, right as Mr. Masters gets close enough, the boy pushes off and jumps out the window, his laughter echoing through the night.

Mr. Masters looks like he is about to follow - and Tim is, for once, curious to see if he would - but stops himself short, only leaning out the window.

"Don't bother coming back, you little badger, you are grounded!" The man yells. The only response he gets is another fit of distant cackling from the gardens.

"That is sure a way to entertain the crowd," Father says quietly, and the tall, dark-skinned woman he's been talking to before the whole mess happened snorts a short laugh.

Tim looks back to the few people who are still sporting elephant trunks for their noses.

It's the first time he thinks a party full of adults in stuffy robes can be more fun than he expected.

—☆—☆—☆—

Some visuals for v i b e s

The room where the scene took place:

Tim's drawing after he was back home from the party (house elves helped):

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

I have the vaguest possible idea of where I'm going, but this is definitely going to be a multichapter thing.

A few notes I've got pinned down so far:

Drakes are a mostly pureblood family, not filthy rich and straight up focused on the whole purity thing, but keeping their reputation clean and nice, and their income stable. Both Jack and Janet have attended Hogwarts, and they were both Ravenclaws while they were at it. Janet might have some relation to Blacks, but it's so distant that she doesn't bother keeping it in mind.

Vladimir Masters is, technically, a pureblood wizard, but his family has been in England for only two or so generations. His grandma (who is still very much alive) came from Russia after falling madly in love with Vlad's grandpa (who is now deceased and, as the rumor goes, his wife had a hand in it). He also attended Hogwarts and has been a Ravenclaw in the same year as Madeline Fenton nee Walker. Hence, Daniel Fenton is his godson and, unofficially, as of right now, heir to Masters family.

[nevernonline]

✧.* pancakes for dinner; svt smau

chapter 11; late night talking (written)

synopsis: y/n while in her third year at greenwood international university finally gets an opportunity to move off campus into a new complex, she has to deal with the realization that her childhood rival is her new next door neighbor.

 paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

feat: non-idol! svt,  other passing idols ykyk.

genre/s: reader is super oblivious, fluffy, sexual themes. 

content: swearing, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

updates: weekly

word count: 7.7k. (written part in-between two sets of texts)

tag list - open

masterlist ▸ 10. cute undies ▸ 12. boo’s big bash

Finally exiting from the bathroom after her multiple deep breaths and compilations on why she agreed to sit across from her what some would call nemesis. Y/N dropped into the chair across from him, her movements sharp, deliberate. She crossed her legs and draped her jacket over the back of the chair, as though marking her territory. The gin martini she had begrudgingly ordered sat untouched in front of her.  

Seungcheol leaned back in his seat, the picture of ease. His arm rested casually along the back of his chair, his other hand nursing his drink. That maddening smirk hadn’t left his face, like he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of her reluctantly sitting across from him.  

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm, “what made you change your mind? The drink? My charm? Or were you just dying for my company?”  

Y/N arched an unimpressed brow. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came over because you don’t seem to understand boundaries. Consider this my final act of mercy before I block you everywhere.”  

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound low and warm, as though her words were the punchline of a joke only he understood. “Harsh, but fair. I guess I’ll take what I can get.”  

He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/N hated how effortlessly magnetic he was, how he could command a room—or in this case, her attention—without even trying. It was infuriating.  

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp. “You seem awfully proud of yourself for someone who’s clearly losing.”  

“Losing?” His smirk deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re the one who walked over here, Y/N. I’d say that’s a win for me.”  

The way he said her name made her want to both glare at him and look away, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of either. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, mirroring his earlier posture, and folded her arms across her chest.  

“Don’t read too much into it,” she said coolly. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t order me another unwanted drink. Bartenders have better things to do than play delivery boy for your ego.”  

He laughed again, and this time it was louder, unrestrained. The sound was warm, genuine, and entirely at odds with how much he irritated her. “You really don’t hold back anymore, do you? I like that about you.”  

“I’m not here for you to like me,” she shot back.  

His expression softened, just for a moment, and she thought she caught a flicker of something sincere beneath his playful facade. “Maybe not. But you’re here. That counts for something.”  

She rolled her eyes, breaking the brief intensity of the moment. “Don’t push your luck.”  

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, though his tone suggested the exact opposite.  

For a few beats, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t entirely hostile either. The sounds of the bar filled the space between them: the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the soft strains of jazz.  

Eventually, Seungcheol broke the silence. “So, what’s got you sitting alone in a bar tonight?”  

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t owe him an answer. But there was something disarming about the way he asked, like he genuinely wanted to know, like he wasn’t just making small talk.  

“It’s really none of your business, but in the spirit of trying to be nice to you. I just felt like it, simple as that.” she said finally, though her voice lacked the edge it usually carried.  

He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he nodded, as if her non-answer was enough. “Fair. All your friends were busy, huh? I get it. Me too.”  

Another silence settled between them, but this time, it felt different—less like a standoff and more like a truce.  

“You know,” Seungcheol said after a moment, his tone lighter, almost teasing, “you’re a lot more interesting when you’re not trying so hard to be intimidating.”  

She shot him a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. “And you’re a lot less interesting when you talk.”  

He laughed again, and she hated how much she didn’t hate the sound of it.  

The conversation carried on like that—sharp, sarcastic, and laced with an undercurrent of something neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Y/N still didn’t trust him, and she still found him insufferable. But for the first time, she started to wonder if there was more to him than the cocky facade he wore so well.  

By the time she checked her phone and its unread texts, her martini was empty, and she hadn’t blocked his number.  

“You’re letting me off easy tonight,” Seungcheol said, leaning back in his chair with that same infuriating grin.  

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, her voice as sharp as ever but, she caught herself smiling—just barely—and that annoyed her more than anything.  

“You’re not a regular here, are you?” Seungcheol asked, swirling the last remnants of his drink.  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curling up in challenge. “Why do I not look the part?”  

“It’s not that exactly,” he said, smirking. “You seem more like the type who spends your time in your room, like all your high school nights at home, organizing your planner instead of, you know, being out and about.”  

Her jaw dropped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I unfortunately know you know what I was like in high school.”  

“I do know,” he said smugly, leaning forward a bit. “You were the girl who always had perfectly color-coded notes and freaked out if someone borrowed her highlighters without asking.”  

“That is—” she began, then stopped, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, that might be true. But don’t act like you didn’t benefit from those notes. If I recall correctly, you borrowed them more than once.”  

Seungcheol grinned, shameless. “What can I say? You had great handwriting, and I had zero fucking interest in Chemistry.”  

“Right, and I’m supposed to believe you actually read through them,” she teased.  

“I did!” he said, feigning indignation. “Well, I skimmed them. Look, it’s not my fault that equations are boring.”  

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You were the worst. Always showing up to class five minutes late, acting like you’d just conquered some heroic quest just to make it there. And the worst part is everyone ate it up.”  

“First of all,” Seungcheol interjected, holding up a finger, “those five minutes were essential. Do you know how hard it is to grab coffee and make it across campus in that short amount of time?”  

“Heroic, truly,” she said dryly.  

“And second,” he continued, ignoring her sarcasm, “admit it—you loved it. You were always so fucking serious, someone had to keep things interesting.”  

She scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I was serious because someone had to be. While you were busy sneaking out of class, I was doing what I thought I had to do to be successful.”  

“Oh, come on,” he said with a playful grin. “It wasn’t that bad. I did my part… sometimes.”  

“Bare minimum,” she shot back. “And don’t think I forgot about that time you tried to pass off Wikipedia as a ‘credible source’ for our History project.”  

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made her stomach flip despite herself. “What can I say? I knew you’d catch it. Why do all the work when I have a perfectionist in my corner?”  

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re really selling yourself here, Seungcheol.”  

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “And yet, here you are, sitting across from me. Funny how that works.”  

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re insufferable.”  

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But admit it—I made high school a little less boring for you.”  

She hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. A little.”  

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, grinning.  

“Don’t let it go to your head, it’s big enough” she warned.  

“I make no promises,” he replied smoothly.  

She shook her head, laughing softly. “Okay, so if you were the ‘bare minimum’ guy back then, what about now? Have you finally mastered the art of being responsible?”  

“Define ‘responsible,’” he said, smirking.  

“Right, I know that answer,” she said, laughing. “And it’s no.”  

“And you?” he shot back. “Still the same overachiever who used to rewrite her essays three times before turning them in?”  

“Of course not,” she said, lifting her drink with mock dignity. “Now I only rewrite them twice.”  

Seungcheol laughed again, the sound bright and easy. “Classic Y/N.”  

“You’re one to talk,” she teased. “Let me guess—still winging it through life and somehow making it work? Pretending to be perfect in front of Daddy Warbucks.”  

“Hey, don’t knock it,” he said, grinning. “It’s a system.”  

“A questionable one,” she said, shaking her head.  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”  

Their laughter softened, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something warmer. The weight of shared history lingered between them, a connection neither of them could deny.  

“You know,” he said after a beat, his tone more thoughtful, “I always wondered what you’d be like now. If you’d still get flustered when someone borrowed your highlighters.”  

Y/N tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “And?”  

“And you’re not so different,” he said, leaning back. “Maybe a little sharper. But still you.”  

She raised her glass, her eyes meeting his. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  

“It was meant to be one,” he said, his grin softening.  

The bartender called last call, breaking the moment. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Seungcheol glanced over at her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.  

“It’s late,” he said casually. “You headed back to the building?”  

Y/N nodded, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “Yeah, unless you’ve got a better plan.”  

He smirked. “I might. But considering we’re both heading to the same place, how about I walk you back? Purely out of neighborly concern, of course.”  

She arched an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “Neighborly concern, huh? I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman.”  

“Don’t let it ruin my reputation,” he said with mock seriousness, stepping to her side as they began walking down the quiet, dimly lit street.  

The night was crisp, and their breaths puffed in the air as they walked. For a while, the conversation stayed light—comments about the weather, a random observation about the neon sign flickering on a nearby storefront. But as they turned onto the quieter road leading to their building, Y/N glanced at him, her lips twitching with amusement.  

“So, I have to ask,” she began, the playful edge returning to her voice.  

“Uh-oh,” Seungcheol said immediately, side-eyeing her. “That tone tells me I’m about to regret this walk.”  

“Oh, you will,” she said with a grin. “What did I hear about you and karaoke night last week?”  

He groaned, immediately scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, fuck. We have to talk about that?”  

“Let’s just say the campus gossip page is very thorough as well as Soony.” she said, biting back a laugh. “Apparently, you gave a very heartfelt performance. You really know how to piss people off, huh?”  

Seungcheol winced but quickly recovered, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Ah, I was wondering how long it’d take for you to bring it up.”  

“And you weren’t going to apologize to me?” she asked, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Do you know how many people sent me screenshots? I thought my phone was going to explode.”  

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” he said, shrugging, “it wasn’t entirely true.”  

She blinked, confused. “Wait, so you didn’t actually sing the song?”  

“Oh, I definitely sang it,” he said with a grin. “The dedication part might’ve been exaggerated, though. I mean, I got dared to sing something cheesy. Your name just came up because someone thought it’d be funny to make it look like I was serenading you. Seungkwan definitely was less than pleased with me though, he told me to stop being so obsessed with talking about you.” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth. “Uh-huh. And you just– what? Decided to ignore him?”   

“Not intentionally,” he said, grinning. “But, tequila and me don’t mix well I guess. I was, how do you say? Wasted?”  

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re fucking unbelievable. No wonder half the school thinks we’ve got some secret love-hate thing going on.”  

“Well, we do, don’t we?” he teased, nudging her lightly with his elbow.  

“That’s not helping your case,” she shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.  

They walked a few more steps in companionable silence until a vibrant glow caught Y/N’s attention. A small bar down the street stood out, its bright neon sign flashing a rhythmic “OPEN” in a mix of blue and pink hues. She paused, the light reflecting in her eyes.

“Oh, I love this place,” she said suddenly, her tone lit with excitement. “The vibe, the music...”

Seungcheol followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Never pegged you as the neon-bar type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore.” she shot back, her lips twitching into a grin.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head toward the glowing entrance, “can we change that? One more drink?”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, already steering her toward the door. “It’s not like you’re turning in early anyway. Unless you’re scared I’ll outdrink you.”

“Oh, please,” she said, scoffing. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

The inside of the bar was cozy, illuminated by dim, colorful lighting that gave it a laid-back yet electric atmosphere. A jukebox hummed in the corner, playing a soft rock track that Y/N immediately recognized. The tables were a mix of polished wood and eclectic barstools, each piece mismatched but fitting perfectly with the aesthetic.

Seungcheol ordered for them—another round. This time beer, considering the dive energy of Y/n’s secret sanctuary—and slid onto a stool beside her at the bar.

“So,” he began, turning slightly to face her. “What’s so great about this place? Nostalgia trip? Secret past I should know about?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just nice. A little out of the way, not too crowded. Good music, good vibes. Kind of like an escape.I just love that I can come here and not see anyone I know, just play pool, sit with myself.”

“An escape,” he echoed, his gaze softening slightly as he watched her. “Guess that makes sense. You always were the kind of person who found little spots like this.”

She gave him a curious look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned. “Back in high school, you had this thing for sitting in the weirdest fucking places—corners of the library, random spots on campus no one else even thought about. I used to wonder if you were plotting something.”

“Again, not a plotter,” she insisted, though the laugh in her voice betrayed her.

“Sure,” he drawled, leaning an elbow on the bar. “And what about that time during sophomore year when you climbed up on the gym roof because you said it ‘had the best view’?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks. “How do you even remember that?”

“Oh, I remember a lot,” he said, smirking. “Like the way you used to doodle all over your notes, even during exams. Or how you’d always hum to yourself when you thought no one was listening. I noticed a lot about you.”

“Okay, stop,” she said, laughing as she hid her face in her hands. “I cannot believe you remember all that.”

“You and your weird ass habits are hard to forget,” he said simply, his voice dipping into something softer, more sincere.

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her heart skipping for just a second before she shook her head, deflecting the moment. “What about you, Mr. Star of the Basketball Team? You spent more time in fucking detention than class. Not exactly model-student behavior.”

“Detention builds character,” he quipped, raising his glass in mock pride.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, twirling her drink idly. Seungcheol eyed her with a playful smirk, tilting his head like he was sizing her up for a challenge.  

“So,” he started, his tone dripping with mock seriousness, “now that we’re being all civil and everything, I think it’s time I asked the hard-hitting questions.”  

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious but amused. “Hard-hitting? Like what? My favorite color?”  

“Please,” he scoffed, waving his hand dramatically. “I already know it’s blue.”  

She blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—how—”  

“Lucky guess,” he interrupted, grinning at her confusion. “Anyway, moving on. Let’s start with something juicier.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was about to uncover a deep secret. “What’s the deal with Mingyu?”  

Her eyebrows shot up. “Mingyu? What about him?”  

“Oh, come on,” Seungcheol said, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “You two are always hanging out. Laughing at your little inside jokes. Are you secretly dating him or something? I mean I did see him leaving your place”  

Y/N barked out a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “Are you serious? Also what’s the concern?”  

“Hey, it’s a valid question,” he defended, though his grin betrayed his teasing. “The guy follows you around like a lost puppy half the time.”  

“He does not.” she protested, still laughing. “Mingyu’s just... Mingyu. He’s like a giant golden retriever. Sweet, chaotic, but no not together like that.”  

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, you’re saying he’s firmly in the friend zone?”  

“I guess,” she confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he might actually be more in love with testing my patience than anything else.”  

Seungcheol chuckled at that, nodding in agreement. “Okay, fair. But what about Hoshi?”  

Her face twisted in mock confusion. “Seriously? What about Soony?”  

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “He’s fun, kind of weird. Seems like the type to sweep someone off their feet with, like, a mating dance or some weird song he wrote in his bedroom.”  

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, laughing harder now. “Hoshi would absolutely cry at that description. He’s my go-to for chill movie nights and random deep conversations, but romantic? No way.”  

“Hmm.” Seungcheol tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, what you’re saying is... no secret boyfriends in your inner circle?”  

She gave him a flat look. “Why are you so fucking nosy about my love life?”  

“I’m just trying to piece together the puzzle that is the great Y/N,” he said, feigning innocence. “You know, fill in the blanks from all those years we spent arguing.”  

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically, crossing her arms. “And what about you Mr. Investigator? Any secret girlfriends I should know about? Maybe one you should have been serenading at karaoke?”  

“Touché,” he said, raising his glass in mock surrender. “But for the record, no. I’m currently unattached, thank you very much.”  

“Oh, the ladies must be absolutely fucking devastated,” she quipped, smirking.  

“They’ll survive,” he shot back, smirking right back. “Besides, I’ve been too busy dealing with you lately.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the playful banter warmed her more than the drink in her hand. “Well, consider yourself lucky. Not everyone gets the privilege of my company.”  

“Oh, I know,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “And honestly? I think I’m starting to enjoy it.”  

The words hung in the air for a beat, his tone more sincere than she’d expected. She glanced at him, caught off guard but not entirely displeased.  

“Careful, Seungcheol,” she said, her voice lighter than she felt. “People might think we’re actually getting along.”  

“Maybe because we are,” he said simply, taking a sip of his drink.  

For a moment, the tension between them softened into something easier, something unspoken but understood. And as the jukebox switched to a new song, Y/N decided she didn’t mind the shift.  

Seungcheol took another sip of his drink, his eyes still on Y/N. There was something in the way the conversation had shifted, and for the first time, it felt like there was less of an edge between them.

“So,” he started again, a little quieter this time, “you really don’t think Mingyu’s into you?”

Y/N gave him a side-eye. “We’ve been over this like a thousand fucking times, Seungcheol. He’s not.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he mused, leaning back in his chair, his grin returning, though it was less mischievous and more thoughtful. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. It’s like he’s trying to decide if he’s supposed to be looking at you like a friend or something... more.”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Mingyu would never. He’d rather trip over his own feet than admit something like that.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”

Her expression faltered for a brief second, before she shook her head. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to feel like he had to hide it. He’s one of my best friends. I’m not trying to complicate things.”

“I get that.” Seungcheol’s voice softened too, the tone carrying more sincerity than before. “Sometimes the simplest friendships get tangled when people start overthinking things. Kind of like how we were”

Y/N nodded, running a hand through her hair. “Exactly. And I like things the way they are. We all have enough drama to deal with without adding any more.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “True. Which is my fault. I’m sorry.” He tilted his head, eyeing her thoughtfully. “So, you’d never date someone from your friend group? Not even someone you’ve known for a while?”

Y/N looked at him sharply, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now? I thought we were past that.”

“No, no,” he said quickly, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just curious. I mean, you’ve been surrounded by them for so long, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s ever crossed your mind.”

“Maybe,” she said, her eyes softening, “but even if it did, I’m not sure it’d be a good idea. Things would get complicated. People start taking sides, there’s awkwardness... I’m not about that.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. “So, you’re saying you’d never date someone like me?”

Y/N blinked, and her gaze shot to his face. “What?”

He leaned forward slightly, his grin playful again. “I mean, I’m not exactly the worst option. I’ve been known to be a pretty decent guy once you get past the sarcasm and the... well, the occasional obsession with bad jokes.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “Wow, really selling yourself there, huh? And I tried that once, it ended so fucking poorly, you know it. So no, not a consideration.”

“Hey, I’ve got layers,” he replied, tapping his chest dramatically. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, her gaze narrowing slightly as she studied him. “You think you could handle me now? I’m not exactly an easy person to figure out anymore. You hurt my feelings so badly that this grudge has been lingering over us for a decade and you think I’d even consider you?”

“Please,” he said, waving her off. “I’ve been dealing with you for years. I know exactly what I’m getting into.” He smirked. “Or at least, I like to think I do. I know all of that was stupid and you don’t exactly know the full story I took accountability for it, I still feel fucking awful. You have to understand that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I do. But I don’t think you’ve ever exactly figured me out.”

“Sure, I’ve got you pretty figured out.” Seungcheol grinned, leaning closer again, his tone playful. “You’re a bit of a control freak, a perfectionist, but deep down, you’re a big fucking softie who just doesn’t want to admit it and you don’t want to admit you sort of like me..”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Wow, you really do think you have me figured out, don’t you?”

“I do.” He leaned back again, looking pleased with himself. “And if you ever decided to date someone like me... well, I think I could keep up with your charm.”

Y/N’s lips quivered at the corners as she shook her head. “You are a very bold drunk. But – Maybe you’re right. But for now, you’ll have to settle for being my most annoying nemesis.”

“Hey, I’m cool with that,” Seungcheol said, raising his glass with a wink. “You’re the most fun challenge I’ve ever had, times two.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and easy, and for a moment, she felt like the conversation had just returned to the usual playful banter they always had. But beneath the teasing, there was something different—something that lingered in the way they looked at each other, a quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

“So,” Seungcheol said after a beat, breaking the silence with a teasing grin. “If you had to choose someone from the group, who would it be?”

Y/N considered him for a moment, then leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it if you do the same. Deal?”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? I guess we’ll see who cracks first.”

Y/N smirked. “I’ll be waiting. But no pressure.”

For a moment, the playfulness settled back in, but beneath the laughter and the teasing, the question hung in the air, unanswered but not unwelcome. 

Seungcheol glanced over at Y/N, a thought lingering in the back of his mind. He’d always been good at pushing things off, but tonight felt different. He couldn't keep skirting around this tension that had been there for years. They’d shared countless moments, laughed together, argued, but there was always something unresolved hanging between them, like a shadow that neither of them fully acknowledged.

He waved over the bartender. “Two more of the usual,” he said with a casual smile, though the weight of what he was about to say sat heavily in his chest.

Y/N didn’t notice the shift at first, still absentmindedly sipping her drink and watching the crowd. When the bartender returned with the fresh glasses, Seungcheol’s grin faded just a little. He set his glass down with more care than he usually did, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it. Her gaze flicked to him, catching the change in his tone.

“What’s up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. His usual teasing was nowhere to be found now. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down, gathering his thoughts. "I know we’ve had... our share of messes between us,” he began slowly, his words careful, each one weighed down with meaning. “And I know I’ve been... Well, definitely not the best sometimes. I’ve said things, done things that probably made you feel like I didn’t really care, or that I wasn’t worth the effort."

Y/N’s expression softened, though she remained quiet, listening. She could feel the tension rise again, but this time, it wasn’t the usual playful back-and-forth. It felt... real.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to bring it up, or the right place considering it’s a sanctuary for you,” Seungcheol continued, meeting her eyes now, his voice lower, more vulnerable than she’d ever heard it before, “but I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About how we’ve been, and how I’ve been with you. And... I’m sorry. For all the stupid things I’ve said and done in the past that made things harder between us.”

Y/N blinked, taken off guard by the honesty in his voice. She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand, shaking his head gently.

“No, wait. Please let me finish.” His voice was steadier now, more resolved. “I’ve always been kind of... blind, I guess. I thought I could keep things light, keep pushing, keep playing around with you. But the truth is, I’ve always respected you. I always thought you were way more than what I let on. And I think I took that for granted.” He leaned in, his voice a little more earnest. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/N. But I want a chance to show you that I can be better. I can be someone who’s actually worth your time—whether that’s as a friend or something more. I don’t care what we have to go through, I just don’t want to leave things unfinished, or have this distance between us anymore. I want to be in your life. For real.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. She could hear the weight in his words, the genuine apology. The teasing, cocky side of Seungcheol had been stripped away, leaving someone vulnerable and raw. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this—he had always been so confident, so in control. But now, there was no hiding the sincerity that poured out of him.

The silence stretched between them, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had paused.

Y/N looked at him, her heart racing. She’d spent so long guarding herself, pushing away feelings she didn’t want to deal with. But here he was, finally offering her the one thing she’d always wished for—the chance to start fresh, to move past the hurt and the misunderstandings.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol nodded, his expression softening further. “Yeah, I am. And I know it’s probably too late to change everything that’s happened. But I don’t want you to think I’m just some guy who’s going to disappear all the time when it gets tough. I want to be here for you. I always have, in my own messed-up way. But I’m ready to try for real this time.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice shaky now. “It’s not at all easy for me to just forget everything. The way things have been between us even our parents are involved, our friends I mean... it's a lot.”

“I know,” Seungcheol said, his voice gentle. “I’m not asking you to forget. Just  to consider it. Consider giving me the chance to prove that I can be the person you need. I know I’ve messed up, and I know it might take time, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. She’d been so focused on keeping things light, keeping him and everything at a distance. But in that moment, looking at him—seeing the vulnerability in his eyes—she realized maybe it was time to let go of the past. Maybe it was time to see what could happen if they didn’t keep pretending.

She exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing just a little. “Alright, Choi,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got one, like literally, one fucking chance. Don’t mess it up.”

Seungcheol’s grin returned, but this time it wasn’t cocky—it was soft, relieved. “I won’t. I fucking swear.”"

For a moment, the air between them felt lighter, the tension that had always existed now dissipating into something... different. There was a quiet understanding, a mutual agreement to try, even if it wasn’t going to be easy.

Y/N stared at him for a second longer, her heart still thumping in her chest as the weight of the conversation settled. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“Hey, Seungcheol,” she said, voice quieter now, tinged with something almost sheepish.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, watching her closely.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her drink. “I just... I don’t think I can tell anyone about this. About us hanging out tonight. Or about... this.” She gestured between them, her eyes not meeting him. “They’ll call me a hypocrite.”

Seungcheol blinked, surprised. “What? Why?”

She let out a small sigh, frustration and amusement mixing. “Because for years, I’ve been the one telling them not to trust you, to keep their distance. And now... here I am, talking to you like we’re on the same page. They’ll never let me live it down.”

He frowned slightly, understanding finally dawning on him. “You really think they’ll be that harsh?”

Y/N shrugged. “Probably. They know I’ve never been shy about how I feel about you. It’s gonna look like I’m going back on everything I’ve said.”

Seungcheol leaned back, his expression softening as he processed her words. “Look, I get it. You’ve had your reasons to keep me at arm’s length. But you don’t have to keep everything a secret just because of them. You should do what feels right for you, not for what other people think.”

She met his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know, I know. It’s just... it feels like I’d be betraying what I’ve always said. I’ve spent so long keeping things from getting too close, you know?”

“I get it,” Seungcheol said, nodding. “And I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for. I’m not going anywhere, though. Whenever you’re ready to tell them, or not tell them, it’s up to you. Just don’t let it keep you from what you want.”

Y/N smiled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Thanks, Seungcheol. I’m not sure what I want just yet... but I think I’m getting there.”

Seungcheol gave her a reassuring nod. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

As they sat there, the jukebox playing softly in the background, it was clear that this conversation wasn’t the end of anything, but maybe the beginning of something different. Something that neither of them had fully expected—but something they were both willing to explore. And even though Y/N wasn’t sure how to navigate the fallout with her friends, for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had someone on her side.

As they walked back into the night, the streets were quieter, the hum of the city fading into the background as the two of them walked side by side, the cool night air wrapping around them. The usual banter between them had settled into a comfortable silence, but there was something unspoken between them—something new. Neither of them had figured it all out yet, but tonight had cracked something open, and it wasn’t something they could ignore.

Seungcheol shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at Y/N, who was walking a little slower, lost in thought. “So,” he started casually, his voice lighter than before, “how exactly are we going to pull this off without everyone calling us out?”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m honestly still figuring that part out. Which is why I’m lost in my head. I don’t want to tell them we hung out. Not yet, anyway. They’ll just jump to conclusions, you know? Like they always do.”

“Yeah, they have a tendency to make things dramatic,” Seungcheol said, rolling his eyes. “But what, you’re just going to keep this all a secret? How long do you think we can get away with it?”

Y/N shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. We’re just talking, right? But they won’t see it that way. And I don’t want to make things awkward if it all goes south.”

Seungcheol glanced at her sideways, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips. “You really think it’ll go south? Just because we decided to be honest for once?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “It could? But, I’ve spent so much time telling them how terrible you are, it’s going to look weird if I suddenly show up saying, ‘Hey, guess what, Seungcheol and I are actually cool now.’”

“Well, maybe it’s time to shake things up a bit,” Seungcheol said, nudging her with his elbow. “Who says you have to be predictable? Maybe they need to see a different side of me. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been all bad, right?”

Y/N let out a short laugh, glancing at him with a raised brow. “Oh, trust me, they know you have a charming side. Which really fucking bothers me. I don’t think they’d buy the whole us trying to be friends thing anyway, even if I did tell them.”

“I’m not saying we make a huge announcement,” Seungcheol said, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “Maybe we should just keep it low-key for now. Just, let things develop naturally. No pressure.”

Y/N stopped walking for a moment, glancing at him. “I just feel bad, I guess. I know it's a lot to ask you to keep something like this quiet for who knows how long?”

He stopped too, meeting her gaze with a quiet intensity. “I get that. I’m not asking you to hide things for me, Y/N. I just don’t want things to be messy. We don’t have to tell anyone until we’re sure of where we stand. And if it does get weird, if we realize we’ve made a mistake  then we deal with it. Together.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh, shoulders relaxing. “You make it sound simple. But I’m just not sure if I want to make everything complicated again.”

Seungcheol took a small step closer, his voice gentle now. “I’m not asking for us to dive into anything crazy. Just... give it a chance. We’ve been through too much for me to walk away now. And I’d rather have you in my life, even if it’s just as friends, than have things stay the way they’ve always been.”

Y/N stared at the ground for a second, thinking. He wasn’t pushing her, wasn’t demanding anything more than she was willing to give. But it was hard to ignore how much his words made her feel. The thought of letting someone in, really letting them in—without all the barriers and walls—was terrifying. But, for once, it felt like Seungcheol wasn’t trying to be the person who hurt her. Instead, he was offering something different.

Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “Okay, fine. We’ll keep it quiet. Just for now. I’m not ready for everyone to know we’re friends or on the way to being friends whatever this is. But I’ll give it a shot. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a chance.”

Seungcheol grinned, a quiet triumph in his eyes. “Fair enough. No pressure. We can just take it one step at a time.”

They started walking again, the soft crunch of their footsteps on the pavement the only sound between them for a few moments.

“Honestly though,” Seungcheol said, glancing over at her with a playful glint in his eye, “I’m kind of excited to see how long we can keep this whole ‘secret friendship’ thing going.”

Y/N snorted, the tension between them easing further. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have fun with that. Just don’t do anything stupid to blow it.”

“I won’t,” he replied, his grin widening. “You have my word.”

As they continued walking, the city’s lights flickering overhead, there was a sense of quiet understanding between them now—an unspoken agreement that this, whatever it was, wasn’t going to be easy. But for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe it could be worth it.

And maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be a secret forever.

As they reached the steps of their building, Y/N’s heart sank when she spotted a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction. Yuqi was walking briskly toward them, her face glowing with the aftermath of what had clearly been an entertaining night. 

“Oh, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath, glancing at Seungcheol in alarm. “It’s Yuqi.”

“Yuqi?” Seungcheol repeated, his brows furrowing. “Like red headed Yuqi, Yuqi?”

“Yes,” Y/N hissed, already feeling the impending questions. “If she sees us together, she’s never going to let me live it down. She’ll have a thousand questions, and I’m not ready for an interrogation.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darted around the street. “What do you want me to do? Hide? Run? Fake a phone call?”

“Fuck. Just—” Y/N gestured frantically to the nearby column. “Go hide over there. Now.”

Seungcheol darted to the side, flattening himself against the column with the stealth of someone who had absolutely no business being stealthy. Y/N quickly composed herself as Yuqi stepped up to the entrance, her sharp eyes immediately zoning in on her.

“Y/N!” Yuqi called brightly, her heels clicking on the pavement. “What are you doing out here? Don’t tell me you were out with someone tonight.”

Y/N leaned casually against the railing, shrugging. “Nope, I just needed a breather. Thought I’d have a smoke before heading up.”

Yuqi’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t even smoke.”

“Well, weed.” Y/N said, tilting her head with an exaggerated shrug

Yuqi narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a detailed retelling of her date, her hands flying dramatically as she described the highlights of being out with Mark.

Y/N nodded along, her expression carefully neutral as she sneaked a glance at Seungcheol. He peeked out from behind the column and mimed lighting a cigarette with a cocky grin, earning a sharp glare from Y/N that she hoped Yuqi didn’t catch.

“And then,” Yuqi continued, oblivious, “he tried to tell me he knew a magic trick, but he completely botched it. Oh my god, Y/N, I almost died laughing.”

“Sounds amazing, I'm glad you had fun ,” Y/N said, trying not to choke on her suppressed laughter.

Yuqi stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. “Anyway, I need to shower so badly and I am so fucking tired. Let’s do a proper debrief tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Y/N said quickly. “Go get some rest. I’ll be right up. Night, girlie.”

“Night, loser.” Yuqi said with a wave, finally heading inside. 

The second the coast was clear, Seungcheol emerged from his hiding spot, brushing himself off dramatically. “So, how’d I do?”

“You were fucking terrible,” Y/N said, though she was smiling as she shook her head. “I could see you miming a cigarette out of the corner of my eye. You’re so lucky she didn’t notice.”

“Hey, I was staying in character,” he said with a mock-serious expression. “You said you were having a smoke. I was just being a supportive whatever I am.”

“A pain in my ass?” Y/N offered.

“That too,” he quipped, his grin wide and unrepentant. “But come on, admit it. This whole sneaking around thing is kind of fun.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her laughter betrayed her. “Fun? You call nearly blowing my cover fun?”

“Absolutely,” Seungcheol said with a nod. “But now I’m curious—if someone else catches us, what’s your next excuse? Stargazing? Birdwatching? Vigilante vibes?” 

“Keep it up,” she warned playfully, “and I’ll just tell them I was waiting for the cops to show up because you’re stalking me.”

“Brutal,” he said, chuckling. “But hey, I got us through tonight, didn’t I?”

“Fucking barely,” she shot back, though the smile on her face lingered as they walked up to the door. 

Once they had one last peak into their building, the soft glow of the lobby lights spilling onto the sidewalk. Seungcheol pulled the door open for her, gesturing grandly.  

“After you, Highlighter Girl,” he said with a smirk.  

“Wow, thanks, Karaoke King,” she replied dryly as she stepped inside.  

As they waited for the elevator, the air between them felt lighter, easier—like the lingering tension from earlier in the night had finally given way to something more comfortable.  

“So,” Y/N said as the elevator doors slid open, “any plans to top that famous performance? Or was that your peak?”  

He laughed, stepping in beside her. “Oh, that was just the beginning. Next time, I’ll take requests.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips tugged upward despite herself. “Just do me a favor and leave my name out of it, okay?”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his grin wide and teasing.  

The elevator chimed, and they stepped out onto their floor. stopping in front of her door, Y/N turned to him, arms crossed.  

“Thanks for the walk,” she said, her whispering tone light but genuine.  

Seungcheol paused before taking out his keys, giving her a crooked grin. “Goodnight, Y/N. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Goodnight, Seungcheol,” she replied, shaking her head. “Try not to get yourself on the gossip page again. Or at least, not because of me.”  

“No promises,” he called as she shut the door behind her, his laughter echoing softly in the hallway.  

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she took off her coat. Whatever this was between them—this ridiculous, secret, almost-friendship—it was chaotic and unpredictable. But she had to admit, it was also shocking that she was starting to feel like something she didn’t entirely mind.

note: hiii lol. two in one week bc now that we're getting into it more im excited, but! pls enjoy. hopefully we can alllll try to support y/n in her time of her "healing era" lmao

taglist: @minhui896@sun-daddy-yoriichi@luchiet@miles-sketchbook@kissesfrmwonwoo@readerlozies@vcutparis@mxnhoeuwu@writingbarnes@headlockimnida@odxrilove@jeonghaniehaee@bath1lda @wonwootakemyheart @dokyomis@hanniesdegree @blvkkeddcc@gyuguys@rakshithanotrao @multiplumes @jihoonsbbygirl

[vikkirosko]

⚾️ Scout x Reader Oneshot Welcome back 🍗

Scout returned home in high spirits. There were many reasons for this. He would finally finish his job, he would see his family again, and he would see you again. And now you were sitting on the roof of the house where your apartments were, and just looking at the night sky, which was so very different from the one he was used to seeing over the years.

You've known each other for a long time. When you were both younger, you spent a lot of time together, running around the city, finding things to do. You watched him play baseball, Jeremy tried to teach you how to play a few times, and then you laughed together when you couldn't do it. He considered you his best friend, and for a long time he was sure of it.

When he started working as a mercenary, as soon as he had the opportunity, he got to the phone with Sniper and called you. You could talk for hours about nothing, and only when Sniper reminded him that it was time for them to leave, he was forced to interrupt your conversation. He told his colleagues about you, and the more they heard about you, the more they realized that Jeremy's feelings for you were different from friendly ones. Now he understood it himself.

Looking at you lying on the cold concrete next to him, he realized that he was really in love with you. He understood that he was in love with your smile, your laugh, the way you sang along to your favorite songs from the radio, how you took care of him when he was injured or ill. He loved everything about you, but it took him a long time to realize his own feelings, which now seemed so obvious that it began to seem ridiculous to him that it took him so long.

When you heard him laugh, you turned to him and smiled a little.

"Did you remember the joke? Will you tell me?"

Scout turned to you and smiled wider.

"I love you"

You looked at him in surprise, as if waiting for the moment when he would laugh and say that it was just a joke or say that he loves you as a friend, but when that moment did not come, a blush appeared on your cheeks.

"You're not joking?.."

"Nah, I'm being completely serious."

He smiled wider, feeling a blush appear on his cheeks. His heart was beating faster than usual. He was glad that he finally told you how he felt. However, his face showed surprise when you leaned forward a little and lightly kissed him on the lips. That kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, after which you pulled away, smiling at him sheepishly.

"I'm glad… I'm really happy about it…"

Jeremy leaned forward and hugged him tightly. When he felt your hands on his back, his smile widened.

"So we're together now?"

"It turns out that yes"

"That's cool! I am sure we will be happy together! We will live in a cozy house, visit our families, especially since my mother already knows you and for her you are already part of the family!"

You smiled softly as you listened to him talking quickly and enthusiastically about your future together.

"And the children! A few kids!"

You laughed softly, stroking his back.

"That sounds great…"

Silence fell between you again. Jeremy was happy that you two had such a wonderful future ahead of you.

"Hey, Jeremy…"

"Hmm?"

You kissed the tip of his nose and smiled.

"Welcome back"

Scout felt happy. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly happy. He felt like he was exactly where he should have been a long time ago.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

with a few minutes' reflection and a second conversation with my parents I have realized that I may have overblown things and overreacted a bit and also in some ways they're correct even if I think they're also harsh about it

[princeofhags]

i just finished reading about iraestra so wand of twilight for her as well!

Wand of Twilight. Iraestra conjures a spirit from the land of the dead to speak to them.

FANTASY PROMPTS | @foxboyclit

Smoke floods the altar in fragrant plumes, the familiar taste of myrrh coating the back of Iraestra's throat uncomfortably. Her steps, purposefully measured and slow, sound monstrous in the cavernous wings of the ceremonial chamber. The peace is further broken by the occasional murmur of an invocation or rustling cloth. There has been no order given for silence, but the trepidation hanging heavy in the air as the incense enforces the command. They all wait in the lurch of a breathless hush, an animal instinct to a known threat. Still, so that the hunter is not enthralled by your fleeing. Anticipation before the blow.

Does their visitor scent the fear he instills in the air, like a hound? Does the chorus of thrumming hearts beckon to him like the call of war drums? Bodies, so many bodies for him to open and bleed.

Itaestra does not doubt that he often relishes it. Bhaalspawn are such curious, depraved half-beasts.

Prince of the Blood. A self-given title, perhaps, but she has heard the reverence Bhaal's faithful pour at his feet like wine libations. Their honored guest is heir to a butcher's legacy. She thinks him little more than a glorified killer draped in the dressings of grandeur.

Iraestra does not cower or draw back from him, but there is still an instinctual unease at the thought of a Bhaalspawn being familiar with her. The Dread Lord’s wicked heirs do not know friends, only warm bodies to bite with steel. The world to them is already dead, merely waiting to be torn asunder to show its truest color: the crimson of fresh spilt blood.

A hedonistic dogma. She holds her tongue due to the respect granted to Bhaal by her own unholy master.

She observes the preparations for the ritual with only half an eye, attention commanded by the ophidian silhouette haunting the edge of the room. What a disquieting picture he paints. His height causes him to loom terribly, heads and shoulders above the flock of mortal meat. He need not even draw his weapon to kill half the room should he wish it. Each finger is tipped with a talon that catches the candlelight with each of his clenching hand. When he had spoken, his teeth had stood out vividly against the stone-black gleam of his scales. The dried gore on his scales embrace him as intimately as any lover.

The wicked length of a barbed tail flickers in what may be a sign of agitation in his people, or merely a quirk of the extra limb. His attention is riveted on the altar. She half expects it to catch aflame.

She attempts not to concern herself with his growing impatience. Any fool can cast a spell to converse with the departed; a Myrkulite only does so at the behest of another and the blessings of the Bone Lord. She will not disregard the tenants of her faith even for this Prince.

"You're eager," she observes. The dragonborn has not left the corpse's side since it was brought to her. Curious. He must be thoroughly invested in the secrets it would spill. "It was good that you preserved the jaw. A wasted trip had you not," she stops by the head, only the breadth of a few steps between her and the Prince.

At that, he finally regards her. Even in his initial instructions he had been short with her. "What of a tongue?

"Is this a theoretical or practical query?" Short of the patience to wait for an answer, Iraestra snaps at one of the attendants. "Bone Talker, check the mouth."

Questing fingers find only half of the appendage still intact. If removed before death, exsanguination is as likely a cause as any.

"It will do," she decides. "I am ready to begin." Her attendants step back as one.

The body has been prepared as best they can given its mangled state. This man, who can be no older than twenty, bares the marks of a slow death. The skull, partially caved, rests unevenly on the cloth. He does not even look peaceful now, as the victims of violence rarely do.

She steps forward, hands rising from her sides. Iraestra readies herself to speak the ancient words.

"Alone," the Prince's clipped voice rings out clearly. Not a request. Demand.

Iraestra hisses her frustration. Better vexation, than dread. She knows the vestments of anger well, slips into them like a second skin. Her mouth twists, her shoulders draw tight. Her hands are half-formed claws in the air. She hears the pound of her own heart in her ears.

What is so important that it cannot be witnessed by the others? What is to be done with her, who will attend to the questioning herself?

"Mistress?" Every cowled head in the room turns to look at her. They hear the call for her death as vividly as she. One of the fools is brave enough to step towards her, as if they could truly do anything to intervene. She admires them for their stupidity.

The Prince watches her, well aware of what he asks for. Trust or faith or maybe both. Clearly, he is looking for a reaction. Will she falter, will she balk? Could he make a bouquet of the stench of her unease? He regards her with a snake's stare, eyes cold licks of fire. He does not blink.

If he thinks he can subdue her so easily, then he is sorely mistaken. She is drow. She is Oblodra. Her own mother's hands were the first to ever try to take her life. He will find no easy marks here today. Let him slake his thirsts elsewhere. There are other, weaker creatures for him to gorge himself on.

"Leave us," Iraestra does not take her eyes from the Prince. She does not speak or move again until the door clicks shut behind the last attendant. How awfully similar it sounds to the closing stone of a tomb.

She rounds on him, irritation clear. "Why did you ask for me?"

The Prince is the first to look away, back to her hands and then the body. Iraestra does not feel like she has won anything of merit. It is impossible to tell if he is pleased. "The Banite confides in you. I thought to do the same."

He does not give a name, nor does she ask for it. She wonders at what the Prince knows of her talks with the other Chosen.

"And what if his confidence is misplaced?" A theoretical. Her loyalty is not often brought into question. It is rare that she pledges it at all.

"Then I will kill you," the Prince simply states.

She laughs. That intention is only the natural conclusion of the dance. There is no greater aim for those of his depraved bent. "So you say. Did you not plan to do so already?"

His head tilts in a particularly reptilian gesture. His glittering eyes have found the pulse in her throat, her bare wrists. She cares not for his study. It feels too much like a physical caress, high beneath dress and robe. One hunger is not too different from another, and she supposes they may be frighteningly the same for him. Both indulgences of the flesh, in the end. "Do not tempt me. Your blood would spill sweetly on this floor."

Iraestra sneers. "Cast your fetid gaze elsewhere, brute. You will not find easy prey in me."

He chuckles darkly. "Of that I am sure. I would savor the challenge as much as anything else."

"I was under the impression that there were more pressing matters at hand, given your early insistence on haste."

"Time can always be afforded for pleasure, sorceress. Consider the feel of silk on the skin. The burst of fruit between teeth and the rush of the juice down your chin, the clench of a lover tight around you as they sob your name. That final, shuddering breath that flutters out of the throat at death. Do you not feel the drum of the heart in your own chest? Do you not wish to dance to it? If you are so indifferent to it, I could show you how to listen to it once more. To feel it." How reverently he speaks, as if he is at the shrine of his own father-god. His lids have nearly closed in rapture.

There's smoke in the dragonborn's mouth and anticipation in his words, thick enough to choke on. He whispers with the tongue of a snake, words dripping from the depravities he utters.

As mad as his sister, the shape-changer, Iraestra decides with disdain. The seed of Bhaal is truly cursed with madness, complete and true. It was preferable when he was barely acknowledging her presence despite demanding it in the first place.

"You have nothing that I desire." Were she younger, still a fool turned by a pretty face, she may have once allowed herself to be seduced by the offer. She ignores the answering hook of arousal low in her gut, focusing once more on the misshapen head on the pillow. Reminds herself of whose hands exactly have crushed it. There is much to do before she is ready for the grave. "Now, if you will allow me to get on with this, we may be each rid of the other before long."

“A pity that you deny yourself,” but he nods. “Perform your rites. Regretfully, I cannot linger for long.” 

Iraestra does not regret that. She is exhausted and enthralled by him in equal measure. Let this be the first and last time she suffers his company. 

She begins her prayer to the dead. 

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[fadeintolight]

pont pont vesszőcske