#Key Fasts And Festivals

[wigglebox]

Suptober [Extended] - Day 21 || Love 💚💙

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request

Another chapter of Alley Boyfriends, if you don't mind, I love it so much. If not, no worries. I love your work and love to reread your stuff. May your food be filling and your bills be paid!

Danny carefully adds the finishing touches to the seahorse he’s carefully designing on the surface of Tim’s mug of coffee. He’s been practicing his latte art because business has been slow at Heart Attack in secret. The previous week, he had seen Tim watching videos of strangers creating works of art using the foams of their coffee with blatant awe.

The Halfa will admit to the sight of wonder on Tim’s face when the flashier artist created swans with colored foam, and his heart gave the oddest flutters. It had been so brief but intense that Danny had feared a new power was unlocking in their living room.

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, but Tim’s expression lingered in his mind. Danny had abandoned the piano to search somehow for videos of latte art within the next minute of that strange heart flutter.  

Danny had learned how to play from Wes in an ill-fated attempt to get the ginger to date him. Danny hadn’t been able to get the ginger to be his boyfriend, but he learned a skill he enjoyed. His parents bought him a second-hand stage piano that he had used for the few years he lived with them.

It broke sometime in senior year- he thinks Young Blood had blasted him through it- and he hadn’t bothered getting a replacement. Mainly because he couldn’t be concerned, as it was a hobby he hadn’t time to participate in once he got close to graduation. It would have remained a forgotten past time had the apartment not come with the grand piano.

The sound was so much richer, with a resonating tone that bypassed his skin and sunk into his soul. Danny could not let the thing of beauty go to waste. He often found himself sitting on the bench, letting his fingers dance off the keys, finding melodies and rhythms that welcomed him home like a returning hero of a fairy tale.

He didn’t think he was skilled at it, but sometimes, when he played, Tim would move closer. His eyelids would flutter close, lying on the nearby couch and listening to Danny play with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes, Tim would fall asleep, seemingly at peace, as Danny strung through Dance of the Blessed Spirits only a few feet away.

Despite all the coffee Danny had provided him with, Tim was starting to develop a better sleeping schedule. The bags under his eyes slowly faded, and he was physically fit. Tim used their apartment building gym all the time, but his skin was gaining a glow previously not there.

He also seems much happier. Danny checked off another box of Tim being a ghost in development, with his Heart Attack Coffee being a big part of his obsession.  Maybe it would not be his sole purpose when he passed, but Danny suspected that the coffee was associated with a good memory that fundamentally shaped Tim’s sense of self.

Danny didn’t like to think too hard about it. He’s gotten comfortable with death, seeing it as a natural part of life now that he spent so much time around the Death-Brought Ghosts, but the idea of Tim passing always twisted his heart into knots.

Sharp, painful knots that leave him fleeing from the dark thoughts as fast as possible. It would be years before Tim would no longer be part of this world. He had better things to do, like adding bubbles and seaweed around the seahorse and taking time to add as many little details as he could to create the scene of a lovely underwater image.

Danny finishes just as the kitchen clock- an expensive cuckoo clock that had golden trimmings, blending so well with the dark wood and gorgeous forest theme carvings that Danny had fallen in love with the second he spotted it at a street art festival that the pair had stumbled upon during a drive they took. Tim bought it when he realized Danny liked it, and it hung up that night. - goes off with a loud chime.

Another day has officially ended. 

His roommate would be up soon for whatever he does at nighttime, where he vanished for hours, coming home nearly always after witching hours, exhausted and bruised. Danny would linger in the living room for a bit if he was awake before heading to his room with a half-made excuse.

Tim would then sleep for a few hours before he was up again, rushing around the apartment to gather his things and be out for his daytime work. A lot of his job he can do at home, but Tim was important enough that he sometimes had to go to work in person.

In the three weeks that the two have moved in together, Danny hasn’t been braved enough to ask what his roommate did for a living. He knows Tim held some big corporate job- where and what he did there was a mystery- but his second job was vague and downright denied at worst.

Whenever Danny hinted so much about what he was doing at night, Tim moved the subject away. He didn’t flat out deny answering Danny’s probing, as more as he danced around the question so well, Danny found himself waltzing in a different direction before he realized what had happened. Tim had a silver tongue that was wielded like a sword, sharp, cutting, and deadly.

 It was mildly alarming, mainly because Danny had no idea what Tim was involved in. Something big, something likely bad. It could be the only explanation for the large amount of seemingly never-ending funds and the odd hours that Tim kept.

A boring office worker by day and who knows what by night.

He also always came back home half stumbling over his feet. There was even that one time when Tim had been half-dressed, his knuckles split, and hard anger set at his jaw. Danny had been caught up with a new show, only realizing the late hour once his roommate had practically shut the door.

The pair stared at each other. Danny bathed in the glow of the TV while Tim was shirtless and standing in the shadows of the front door. He wanted to ask thousands of questions, but Danny had only lifted the heated blanket- a gift from Tim- when he learned how affected Danny was by the cold. 

Tim’s face softened as he barreled into the warmth and snuggled into the couch cushions, joining Danny in watching a Korean rom-con that the Halfa had been in the middle of. He had no idea what the plot was or who the characters were, but by the end of the third episode, Tim’s head had fallen on Danny’s shoulder so deeply asleep that he didn’t feel Danny wrapped up his knuckles or carried him to his room.

Despite this, Danny didn’t move out. He didn’t stop providing Tim with his much-loved coffee. If anything, he took his worries, boxed them up, and stubbornly turned a blind eye to the worrying signs that Tim was showing.

A door opens behind him. Tim walks out, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder as he speed walks through the living room. His roommate is scrolling on his phone, tapping a rapid-fire response to whoever he is chatting with. Danny could see the bubble messages screen even if he couldn’t make out the words before sighing. “I’ll be out all night. I’ll probably be back tomorrow around noon.”

A pool of dread piles in his stomach, but Danny pushes it away. “Alright.”

He holds out the mug, drinking in every facial feature shift as surprise blooms over Tim’s face before it melts into tenderness when he sees the shape of the latte art. It was painstaking to learn how to make a realistic-looking one on such a problematic canvas, but Danny is happy he spent time on it. After all, Tim’s favorite animal was the seashore, so he needed to make sure it looked good.

Only a few people knew that from what Danny gathered from Tim's few mentions while working on their three notebooks. He also thinks Tim doesn’t often tell people his favorites, but Danny has been paying close attention whenever Tim reacts positively to the world around him. The way Tim’s eyes sparkled when Danny clicked on a sea documentary where the small, shaped fish had been a main feature. Danny had found it adorable how Tim seemed unaware that he would randomly blurt out a new fun fact about the seahorses in the following few days.

“When you learn to make this?” Tim asks, curling his fingers around the mug. Danny’s heart leaps in his chest at the tender warmth glowing in Tim’s eyes as he gazed at him. Coughing into his hand, he waves his hand.

“I had some time since there hadn’t been a lot of customers lately. Ever since that Dr. Freeze threat, people have been avoiding the café.” Danny ignores the guilt he feels about that.

The other day, his powers had gone out of control after he made the mistake of going too long without using his ice, and when he developed that stupid head cold, he accidentally froze the street.

One coughing session later, the entire neighborhood ran to take shelter, panicking that the rouge had chosen their homes for his newest mayhem. Thank goodness the villain had actually broken out of Arkham the previous day, so no one batted an eye at the fact the ice surrounding a single barista was in the middle of closing up for the night.

“It’s amazing, Danny,” Tim tells him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he takes a sip. His eyelashes flutter as he savors the flavor, this one is the original Batman theme coffee that Heart Attack discontinued.

Danny found the receipt in an older binder while doing inventory. Tim had tackled him in an enthusiastic hug the second he tried it and recognized the familiar taste.

“Thanks.” He blushes, trying not to notice that the bubbles have shifted slightly, resembling hearts instead of circles. Moving his eyes away from where the foam disappears into Tim’s lips, Danny mentally kicks himself for being weird about his fake boyfriend’s drinking.

He picks up the mug lid on the counter, turning it around in his hands while Tim takes another quick sip. There is some leftover steam milk on his lips when he pulls away, and the colorful seahorse is gone now. His core pulses, making a shiver run down his spine as Tim’s pink tongue darts out to lick away the teal green.

Danny coughs again as frost gathers on his back. Thank goodness he can feel it on his skin, which means it likely hasn’t passed through his comfortable sweater. He hasn’t told Tim about his powers, and he isn’t sure he wants to.

Gotham is an anti-meta city. Tim was as Gotham as they came. He can’t stand the thought of his roommate growing to hate him, especially for something that wasn’t precisely meta, but was the closest thing he was.

He leans forward, carefully sealing the mug. This was one of Tim’s favorites among his collectible mugs, primarily because it could shift into a traveling beverage holder.

Tim smiles at him. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, stay safe,” Danny tells him to walk him to the front door. He stands there, feeling like he’s waiting for something to happen. But he isn’t entirely sure what that is, so all he does is lean against the wall as Tim slips on his running shoes, juggling his drink, phone, and bag. Danny smiles warmly when Tim raises his mug at him in a fast toast before he slips through the door, leaving their apartment with a soft “Sleep well, Danny.”

The wood of their door seals shut without a sound- apparently, the rich didn’t believe in noise because everything in the apartment was somehow soundproof. Tim moved like a shadow, rarely making a sound. Danny, by comparison, sounded like a bull in a china shop.

Once, when Danny apologized, Tim laughed.

“I like it, " he said while lounging in the hot tub on the balcony. Danny was on the other side, the warm water doing wonders for the frost forming at the bottom of his feet.  Thankfully, the water hid it from Tim’s sight. “It’s like you breathe life into the apartment with your noise.”

“Stay safe,” Danny says to the empty apartment. “Come home tomorrow.”

He rubs his face and figures he should head to be. It was ten at night, but Tim clarified that he wouldn’t return anytime soon. He’s tired from the previous three nights when he waited for Tim to come home. Thankfully, his shifts had been moved to the afternoon, so it didn’t mean much if Danny stayed up until three am for his roommate.

He strides by his piano, running his hand along the closed case of the keys without seeing it, for his gaze is locked on the city that glows under his window. It’s been nearly a month, and he’s still not used to the view of Gotham from this height. The penthouse towers over most of Gotham, and the city seems beautiful from up here. A Decorative lie of the danger that waited in the wake of anyone down on their luck.

This place was like a Siren. Beautiful and alluring until its claws and teeth dug into someone’s skin, dragging them to the darkest depths where no one could hear their screams. He prays that whatever Tim is involved doesn’t let Gotham swallow him whole.

 Danny’s fingers accidentally come upon cloth, making him snap his chin down to see what had been placed on the wood and blink at the side of Tim’s discarded sleeping long-sleeve shirt. His roommate peeled it off earlier tonight when he wanted to walk around in his shirt sleeve and flung it somewhere to take a quick nap before he left.

His fingers close around the fabric, slowly bringing it up to his face, breathing in Tim’s distinctive scent mixed with the soft lavender of his fabric softener. Danny hesitates for only a few seconds before taking off his sweater and slips on Tim’s long sleeve, allowing himself to find comfort in the familiar scent surrounding him.

He lets his sweater pool on the floor in the living room as he wanders to his room, crashing under his blankets and pressing the fabric of Tim’s clothes to his face. Eventually, he is lured to sleep, dreaming of playing in Gotham’s largest theater, hands flying over the keys at a skill level he does not possess. He moves with the music, uncaring that the seats are empty except for one.

That one belongs to Tim, who watches him perform with the same tenderness as his latte art inspired, but instead of a drink, Danny’s music causes that expression.

It’s the best dream he had in a long while.

As he dreams, he is unaware of the figure checking in on him, hanging from a grabbing hook near his window. The figure smiles when its white lens notices how Danny is curled up in a ball before it zips to the roof, their cap flaring behind them.

When they land, they reach up to link on their com "Red Robin reporting for duty. Where is Dr. Freeze's last known location? I want him caught tonight."

"Good night to you, too," Oracle responds. "Any particular reason we're in such a hurry for the capture of Dr. Freeze."

"He's making it hard for the hard-working people of Gotham to work," He huffs, knowing the rest of the bats will correctly link his complaint to his roommate.

There is a loaded pause before Red Hood grunts. "I got good news for you then. Dr. Freeze has spotted this very afternoon. Meet up at Heart Attack by Crime Alley to compare notes in an hour."

"I'm on my way."

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~part 3

Part 2 ~ Master Post

Tim was beyond irritated. He could have been on a date. Okay, he wasn’t sure if they were dates but they could have been. Damn it. He’d continued to summon Phantom weekly and they’d gone to lunch every time. Pizza. Barbecue. An amazing ramen place. They went to a music festival and visited all the food vendors. 

Things had been going smoothly. He’d been learning more about the Infinite Realm and about Danny himself and was having a great time despite his meddling siblings trying to butt in at every turn. Dick was a repeat offender but Duke, Cass and even Damien had all attempted to ambush him. It was lucky Danny thought it was hilarious and helped Tim avoid them. 

The last two weeks had been a disaster though. He’d had a four day mission with his own team, and had to deal with his friends poking fun at him while trying not to get shot at. Superboy had vastly exaggerated his interaction with Danny to the others! 

By the time he’d gotten back to Gotham, he’d had a small backlog of cases to get through. It was really cutting into both his CEO work and his freaking lunches with a really cute guy who just so happened to be an immortal king of a realm. 

Just when he thought he’d have a little time in the next day or two, Scarecrow was back on his bullshit with his fear toxins. Hadn’t they just done this recently? How had he gotten out of Arkham so fast? 

Tim was woozy, having taken a breath of the toxins and gotten a swift injury to his leg in the process. He’d say it was luck that he already had an antidote on him to fear toxins, but they all carried one with them at all times. He wasn’t freaking out but he could have done without the lightheadedness. It always briefly had him wondering if he’d gotten a concussion, but it was just a side effect. Usually. 

“You good, babybird?” He heard Nightwings voice through comms. He probably thought he was whispering and had no idea how loud he actually was because of the chaos of the night. 

“Never better.” He grumbled, trying to shake off a chill while limping. There was no one around to see at the moment so it was fine. “I’m headed your way.” 

“Good, Scarecrows around here somewhere. Slippery nut job.” Nightwing said. 

“Pay attention.” Batman’s voice ran through their comms. “He divided us on purpose. This isn’t his usual pattern.” 

There was grumbling across the line, everyone having figured that out already but B wouldn’t be B if he didn’t state the obvious for them some nights. 

Tim grappled from one street to the next, hearing sirens far enough in the distance that they couldn’t have been for this. When he landed safely, he pressed his palms to his masked eyes. The throbbing in his head was so annoying, but the jack hammering of his heart was…something he probably shouldn’t ignore but he was. 

“Not a concussion, Red.” He muttered to himself. “Just a stupid sore leg and Scarecrow’s stupid toxins filtering out.” There was always the option that it was a new strain and his antidote didn’t work as well but he wasn’t hallucinating his worst fears so maybe not. 

Trying to shake off his limp, Tim wandered across a nearly empty parking lot. There were a few abandoned cars, most of them missing their tires and on blocks. He kept an ear out, listening for anything that didn’t belong but it was Gotham, and even in the dead of night there were noises. Traffic, generators, air conditioners, nocturnal animals. There was always ambient noise, the key was ignoring the background hums and focusing on the shuffling goons. The problem he was having now however, was the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Red?” Nightwing's voice drifted across comms again. “I don’t see you yet. Something happen?” 

“No i’m…” Tim swallowed, suddenly parched and feeling overall…bad. He tilted his head back to check his surroundings and realized he’d gone the wrong way. How disoriented was he? “Okay, i might not be okay.” 

“Red Robin?” Batman’s voice was calm but urgent. “Do you need backup.” 

Tim almost stumbled but caught himself. “I feel like shit. I think there was something new in the toxins my antidote didn’t take care of.” 

“Oh, how wonderful. You figured it out so quickly.” 

Tim tensed, whirling around to face Scarecrow. Tim hated to think he’d been snuck up on but the rogue was sitting on one of the ripped apart cars in the lot. 

“I’m coming to you!” Nightwing said firmly. “On my way!” 

Tim waved Scarecrow’s words away cockily and only just noticed the way he trembled. “You’re losing your touch. Not a single, horrifying hallucination.” 

The rogue just chuckled. “Oh no, tonight’s a bit of a tester. Something a little different.” 

“That right?” Fuck. 

“Oh indeed, you don't mind being a guinea pig, do you? This particular batch didn’t have the hallucinogens, no. What it is doing is creeping through your system, forcing your body to activate all too real symptoms of fear.” 

“Seems a little corny for you.” Tim said, knowing the others were listening carefully. 

“And you're shaking.” Scarecrow’s huge grin grew broader. “What else, little bird? Over heating? Or are you freezing? Heart pounding? Knees weak? Feeling a fresh wave of tears building? Do let me know. It’s for science.” 

Tim tsked. He wasn’t about to cry but his throat was tight. It was almost like he was having trouble taking in a breath. 

“Somehow, a gas that makes people sick is so much less impressive than your normal routine.” Tim said, his trembling getting worse, but he was positive he was being tracked by at least some of the others. He just had to stall until Nightwing got there. “A couple of phantom pains the best you could come up with?” 

That wasn’t his best quip but Scarecrow took the bait anyway. “Oh no, it’s very real. Your body might not know why it’s so panicked, but it’s pulling out all the stops. Who knows, maybe your heart could just stop.” 

The problem with a lot of Gotham rogues, was the fact that they were actually intelligent people. The man likely could have gone on and on, but he jumped up and moved onto the offensive. He had a pitchfork tonight, and no one could say the man was original. 

“Now just stay still!” 

Tim dodged, the pitchfork surprisingly leaving quite the hole in the concrete. It should have been a simple dance and disarm kind of fight, but Tim’s shaking just got worse, and his stomach started to hurt, and his heart really was trying to beat out of his chest. It really was like he was terrified, the chills of his body making him sweat. 

“No ever actually stays still when someone’s running at them like a lunatic.” Tim said, but the words were almost hard to get out. He wasn’t choking but his throat was so clogged. 

The sass cost him though, and he was hit in his already wounded leg. It sent him rolling across the parking lot and Scarecrow just laughed. 

“Oh, what fun. It’s a shame though, i really miss the screaming of my patients visually seeing their worst nightmare, i’ll have to combine them.” 

Tim legs nearly gave out from under him when he tried to get up. Injury and the damn shaking leaving him unstable. He’d had to stay crouching, pulling out his staff to dig into the ground in front of him to hold himself up. 

“Regardless of my fears, you’re not one of them.” Tim wheezed, wondering if the hallucinogens were actually kicking in when a mist appeared. It was a frigid kind of cold that left ice crystals on all nearby metals. 

“Oh, we’ll see, little bird. I have plenty for your entire family. In fact, i’d love to see what a second dose would do to you.”

“Nearly there.” Batman said, but there was a hiss to his tone that said he knew it wasn’t going to be a timely arrival. 

“This isn’t good…” Tim whispered, watching Scarecrow pull out a small canister, and he was too wobbling to put more distance between them.

With a laugh, Scarecrow hurled it towards him. “Don’t be afraid to inhale!” 

Tim jerked back using his bo-staff as a crutch to give him some kind of momentum but he watched as the canister exploded midair and…something was strange. The cloud of chemicals had been clear for one second before disappearing. There was no time to worry about how quickly it could have been caught on a breeze when even Scarecrow himself looked confused. 

“So fear is your niche.” 

Tim shuddered, eyes going wide as his head jerked towards the sound of the voice. The gentle reverb of the words slicing through him. His solace was that the ire he heard wasn’t directed at him.

Danny was there. Well, King Phantom was there, having appeared out of thin air. It was the first time Tim had seen that form in a while but his friend was just as hauntingly ethereal as Tim remembered. 

He dropped the canister, and Tim had at least a partial answer. Whatever had gone wrong with the toxins had been Phantom’s doing. 

The king stared down at Scarecrow, but Tim couldn’t see his face from where he now sat. “I know a thing or two about fear.” Danny whispered. 

“Impossible.” Scarecrow spat, puffing up like a cat. None of the Gotham rogues liked their plans being disturbed and by a newcomer no less. “What did you do?! Did you inhale my toxins!? Absorb them!? Fool! You’ll be their next victim! You won’t be so relaxed for long! Even Red Robin’s a terrified mess!” 

“Red Robin! Report!” Batman’s voice was firm in his ear. 

“Relaxed?” Phantom mused, deceivingly calm. He’d stiffened, head turning just a little as if checking on Tim, but he never truly took his attention off the rogue. “No, not relaxed. Angry. As delicious as your parlor tricks were, i take offense to finding you hovering like a predator over my friend.” 

He rose into the air a few feet, and only then did Tim realize that he had been standing instead of floating, well, he was floating now. 

Scarecrow just tsked, unaware of the power in front of him. “Meta? Alien? It doesn’t matter. That combination of chemicals-”

“Was delicious.” Danny repeated. 

Tim scooted away, his leg throbbing. “Phantom.” He muttered, finally answering Batman through strangled breaths. “Phantom’s here.”

“Regardless, the offering was not enough to pacify me.” Danny muttered, the black crown over his head spinning. 

Scarecrow actually began laughing, it started with a chuckle but then it grew into something loud and boisterous. “You’re barely more than a child, are you sure you’re ready for this? The hero game is crowded here in Gotham, and you don’t look like any bird or bat i’ve ever seen.” 

Tim watched the way Danny’s hood swayed to the side as he tilted his head. “I am no bird, nor am i a bat.” 

“I’m sure you’ve impressed your little friends with your meta abilities, but it means nothing in a city like this. Though i see you have your talents. How are you unaffected by my toxins?” 

Ice erupted from the ground, enguling Scarecrow’s legs an inch at a time, creeping up his body without a hint of warning. “You misunderstand.” Danny whispered. “I am not here for a conversation. I’m here for my friend, and to teach you that dabbling in fear is childsplay to a being like myself.” 

Tim couldn’t see… Danny was facing away from him but his galaxy cloak billowed out around him without even the slightest breeze. There were shadows…? Something? Tim couldn’t see though he tried. What he could see was Scarecrow, and even with his face covered, his body language betrayed his growing horror. 

“You can not frighten the dead.” Danny said, but in a voice that was decidedly not his own. 

Scarecrow started screaming, a desperate sound that had him thrashing in place, the ice now well around his chest. Tim didn’t know what the rogue was seeing but if scaring someone to death was really a thing… 

“Phantom.” Tim tried to raise his voice and had to close his eyes to shove away the sudden lightheadedness. He was shivering. “W..we good…?” 

Whatever was going on paused, and Danny seemed to reign himself in. The strange movement of his cloak stopped and Tim briefly made a mental note to ask Danny what kind of other forms he might have. 

Danny turned to him, looking normal, though he hadn’t seen his white hair in a while. “I forget sometimes…” He commented, voice even softer than usual. “The living are so fragile.” 

Scarecrow was still screaming, but his head was lulling back and he looked seconds away from passing out. He was held in place by the ice, and obviously wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Yeah, we’re like that.” Tim muttered, shoulders slumping now that the danger was taken care of, it didn’t stop the way his body twitched. His stomach hurt so bad. 

Danny landed by his side silently, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah. Leg’s a little messed up but it’ll heal. The… the toxins in my system are going to have to run their course, unless i can work out how to s..somehow come up with a new antidote before then. St..stupid…” 

Danny cocked his head to the side, wispy white hairs floating around his face. It was unfair how attractive he was. “Want me to eat it?” 

Tim heard a confused “Wut?” from his comm. Spoiler summing up that comment nicely. 

“I can absorb emotion. Because it can sustain us. I just think of it as a different way to eat.” Danny said. Tim breathed a sigh of relief that that half ghost had been around him long enough to know that he liked explanations when he didn’t understand something. 

“That’s w..why the fear toxins didn’t affect you.” 

“Mhmm.” Danny hummed. “Gotta get that recipe though. That was tasty. Frighty would love it. 

Tim sighed, feeling another wave of nausea and he…was pretty sure he was seeing colors he shouldn’t be. “You always leave m…me with more questions than answers. My s..symptoms aren’t emotional. Chem..chemically induced.” And fuck this was so embarrassing in front of the King of the Infinite Realm. 

Danny hummed, and if Tim wasn’t mistaken, he sounded amused. He leaned closer, fingers touching Tim’s face and all at once, he started to feel better. His shaking stopped almost immediately and he was left to assume that despite the chemicals he’d inhaled, Danny was still able to take them from him. Honestly, scientifically it made no sense whatsoever. 

At least his stomach didn’t hurt anymore. 

“What do i owe you for this one?” Tim asked with a weary smile. Other than a sore leg, the other symptoms seemed to disappear. 

“I got two separate fear meals. I’m good.” Danny chuckled, helping Tim to his feet only seconds before Batman and Nightwing arrived. 

Nightwing made a beeline for Tim, grabbing him in the tightest hug while Batman was instead looking Scarecrow over who had, in fact, passed out at some point. 

“Wing, watch it! Watch it! The leg!” 

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Nightwing clung anyway. He then held a hand out to Danny. “Thank you so so much, your Majesty! Your timing is to die for!” 

Tim knew he was in trouble when Danny took Nightwings hand to shake, and his eyes lit up. “Wing…” Tim said in a warning tone that went unheard. 

“No big deal. Visiting Red Robin really lifts my spirits.” Danny said with a small grin, fangs a little larger than in his living form. 

Nightwing tipped his head back and laughed. “Yes!” 

“No…” Tim groaned, shoving away from his brother. 

“In all seriousness, i’m glad i came.” Danny said. “I wasn’t sure if you were trying to summon me or not so i thought i’d poke my head in and see.” 

“I…didn’t realize i did?” Tim muttered, checking his utility belt. “I do have the spell circle but…” 

Danny shrugged “Well you said ‘Phantom’ at some point. I thought it sounded a little different but well…i didn’t think it would hurt to double check. I’m glad i was able to help.” 

“We appreciate it, your Majesty.” Batman commented in a gruff tone. He very much did not appreciate it but couldn’t be mad about someone saving Tim when he wouldn’t have gotten there in time.“What exactly did you do? This ice is-” 

“Oh, right.” Phantom waved his hand flippantly and the ice disappeared. Scarecrow dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “He’ll probably suffer nightmares for the next week but he’ll shake it off.” 

“I have… so many questions…” Tim repeated. 

Danny just looked at him fondly. “You always do.” 

“I’ll take him in.” Batman said. “Red Robin, return for medical treatment.” 

“I’m fine, B.” Tim said, but he was getting a look. “Grab whatever he has on him so we can make new antidotes.” 

Batman grunted, and it was possibly lucky that the rogue was already knocked out. 

“Hey, hey, King Phantom-” Nightwing began. 

“Just Phantom is fine.” 

Nightwing was positively giddy. “What do you say to four a.m. waffles? I know you ate the fear or whatever but you deserve a proper thank you meal.” 

There was something so boyishly charming about the way Danny smiled. His constellation freckles even seemed to twinkle. “As long as they don’t bite back. I’d like that.” 

“Concerning.” Tim hummed, testing his weight on his leg. It wasn’t broken but he wouldn’t be grappling anywhere else tonight.

“Great!” Nightwing said, tapping his own comm. “Spoiler will meet us there!” 

Danny glanced at Tim. “Do uh.. You go…” He gestured to them. “Dressed like this?” 

“All the time.” 

“Okay then.” Danny said, and the only adjustment he made was to reach up above him and grab his crown. It disappeared from view. 

“So many questions.” Tim heaved a sigh. “I guess breakfast would be nice. We haven’t done breakfast yet.” 

Danny nodded once. “At least i feel like i earned it this time. You’ve just been treating me so much lately.” He sounded as close to shy as Tim had ever heard and it was killing him. 

Ugh, now he was doing the death puns… 

“You don’t have to earn your food with us.” Tim said softly. 

“RR is right, you know?” Nightwing beamed. “You should totally get him to bring you home one night, Phantom. Best home cooking you’ve ever had.” 

Danny hummed, “It’s a low bar, but that could be…nice.” 

“We’ll discuss it over waffles!” Nightwing just…decided. 

Tim shook his head, not sure how he felt about these two getting along but Danny was smiling and Tim was a sucker for those smiles. 

“Alright.” Tim said, stifling a yawn. “My leg is stiff so one of you is gonna have to help me get there, but let’s go eat.” 

Danny’s green eyes just glowed with mirth. “No problem.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Outburst V

Leah Williamson x Child!Reader

Summary: Leah gets in trouble

"He-Hello? Hello? Jord...Jord, I can't hear you. Give me a moment."

The sound of the music and the crowd surrounds Leah as she steps a bit further away, shoving her phone as close to her ear as she can manage.

"Jordan! Jordan?! Can you hear me?!" She's practically screaming down her phone, straining her ears for even an inkling of Jordan's voice.

"Leah Cathrine Williamson!" Is what she gets in return. "Why is that music so loud?!"

"It's a festival, Jordan," Leah says back with an eye roll," I'm near the stage and-"

"And if you're near the stage, who exactly is with our child?! Seeing as it's nearly midnight so she should be in bed!"

Leah freezes, a bolt of lightning running down her spine as she glances towards her friends.

You're bouncing along to the music as her cousin pours some of your fruitshoot into a little plastic cup so you feel like you're being included in all the drinking the adults around you are doing.

A worried chuckle comes out of Leah's mouth that she hopes Jordan doesn't hear.

"Our kid? Our little Lovebug?"

"Yes!" Jordan snaps down the phone. "Bug! Our child, Leah. Our child who should definitely be in bed right now!"

"Well, she is in bed!" Leah lies," Fast asleep. I gave her a kiss good night and everything. My cousin's called it a night so she's babysitting."

"Really?" Jordan sounds like she doesn't believe her even down the phone. "So if I go on Instagram right now, I won't see any pictures or videos of our daughter partying in the dark?"

"No," Leah says, calling Jordan's bluff," No pictures or videos of our Bug."

The music is so loud that Leah can't hear Jordan's answering hum. To be honest, she's not really focussing on the call anyway.

Her friends have formed a little half circle around you as you bounce along to the Coldplay song playing, cheering you on as you get more and more into it.

A soft smile plays on Leah's lips as she watches and she's so engrossed that she almost misses Jordan's next words.

"So if Bug's in bed then you wouldn't mind switching to a videocall and show me what's going on?"

"Jord-"

"You know I'm not actually asking, Leah."

Guiltily, Leah switches to a videocall.

Unlike her, who is in a muddy field with pounding music, Jordan's curled up on her sofa back home in Birmingham. She's got Blu on her lap fast asleep and a soft blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

She looks cosy and snug back at home and Leah flashes her a nervous smile.

"And now you can flip the camera."

"Oh? Are you sure? Why don't we-"

"Leah. The camera. I'd like to see our child."

Begrudgingly, and because she knows that there is no way out of it, Leah flips the camera around.

"Mum!" You call out, bouncing enthusiastically from within the half circle around you," Mum, are you flimin' me? We're goin' to show Bear and auntie Kei?"

"Er...I've got Mummy on the phone actually!" Leah calls back to you and you stop bouncing immediately.

You shove your see through cup of fruitshoot off to Leah's cousin and hurry over, practically trying to climb Leah to get even a glimpse of Jordan.

"Mummy? Mummy! Mummy! Mum, help! Want to see Mummy!"

Leah hefts you up onto her hip, flipping the camera again so Jordan can see you both together.

"Mummy!" You exclaim, happily wiggling in Leah's arms," Mummy, did you see me dancin'? I can dance!"

Both Jordan and Leah aren't quite sure whether they classify what you do as dancing. Bouncing is probably a more apt decision.

You've been a bouncer since your birth practically. Your old baby bouncer was probably your favourite toy of them all and from the moment you first heard music, you've bounced along to it.

"And what a good dancer you are!" Jordan says, beaming at you," Are you having fun with Mum?"

"I am!" You say, bobbing your head up and down happily," Mum says at a festival there is no bedtime! And-"

Leah's mouth comes up to cover your mouth as she quickly tries to do damage control.

"What Bug means is there's no bedtimes for adults-"

"No, you said that there was no Bug Bedtime," You interrupt, prying her hand away from your mouth," You said there were no rules. Just not to tell Mummy..." You eyes widen as you look at Leah's phone. "Oh, sorry, Mum."

Leah sighs. "It's fine, Bug. Mummy would have found out either way."

"Mummy's very smart."

"Yes she is."

"And very, very angry at you, Leah," Jordan says," It's bedtime for Bug now."

"What? But Mummy-"

"Bedtime for sleepy little Lovebugs," Jordan says, her voice back to the soft one she always uses when addressing you," Because it's way past little bugs and their bedtimes."

"Mummy-"

"I love you, my Lovebug."

You huff. "Love you too, Mummy."

"Take. Her. To. Bed. Leah."

"Will do, Jords. Night."

"Goodnight."

The calls is dropped in the next second and you look up at Leah, tilting your head to the side.

"Is it really bedtime for little Lovebugs?" You ask and Leah grins.

"I don't think your Mummy can be mad if you get an extra five minutes...maybe another hour."

[incorrectbatfam]

What is each of the batfam members approach as a tutor to a student/hero trainee?

Dick: locks them in jail for a few weeks (so they know what it's like and won't abuse their power by throwing people in left and right)

Jason: makes them deliver birthday presents to late henchmen's children (people are multifaceted, action have a ripple effect, and taking lives should only be the very last resort)

Tim: hosts a trivia night where he asks them questions about an anime that doesn't exist (to test whether they lie their way through or admit they don't know)

Damian: asks them to assist him, criticizes them when they do, and repeat (being a hero can be a thankless job but they have to brush it off and do it all over again)

Duke: makes them read a book at a concert and quizzes them after (vigilantes are surrounded by distractions and need a laser focus)

Cullen: makes them beta-read a bunch of bad Wattpad fanfics (desk work is tedious but just as important as fieldwork)

Stephanie: sticks them in a customer service job for a month (they have to deal with all manner of civilians while maintaining a positive image)

Cassandra: sets a trash can on fire, bursts a water pipe, and releases a bunch of rats (multiple things can happen suddenly and they have to know how to triage)

Barbara: makes them watch a movie marathon that keeps buffering (investigative work is a lot of waiting around and seeing what happens)

Harper: has them fix a car with the wrong instruction manual (what's being ordered isn't always what needs to be done)

Carrie: hires a bunch of actors for a giant game of Where's Waldo (attention to detail in a fast-paced environment)

Kate: offers a sparring session as an outlet for pent-up emotions (they pass the test if they don't take her up on it—vigilantes shouldn't be fighting for personal catharsis)

Helena: invites them to a formal vigilante job interview but keeps rescheduling (until they assert themselves and establish clear boundaries)

Luke: invites them to the Wayne Enterprises lab and spills a beaker of vinegar without stating what it is (understanding emergency protocol and facilitating effective communication)

Bette: gives them a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle but puts the last piece in a locked box (she'll give them the key—they just need to ask her for help)

Alfred: makes them organize files in the Batcave while something is going down on the field (they can't always be there and have to compartmentalize)

Selina: volunteers them to clean up after a three-day music festival (crime scenes are gross and they need a strong stomach)

Bruce: plans a last-minute dinner party and puts them in charge of the kitchen staff (taking leadership and knowing how to delegate)

[esouliie]

COME FIND ME, MY LIGHT.

(natasha romanoff x reader)

summary | What began as an attempt to bring Christmas back to Natasha turned into something deeper as both of you realised that love is what truly warms the heart this season. By Christmas Eve, Natasha wasn’t just in love with the holiday again: she was in love with you, and maybe- just maybe- you had been in love with her all along too.

tags | christmas fic! hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, dead family trope, alternative universe so no avengers, you’re both a bit sad! :/

notes | i want a christmas love like this so what better way to manifest than by writing a fic abt it hehe. this was also inspired by my fav person’s return to tumblr and her love for the holiday - @please-destroy, thank you for inspiring this by just being you! this is also a part of your gift, surprise!! everybody, go read her stuff now. it’s truly amazing!

word count | 5K

Merry Christmas!! ⊹♡

Since the moment you met, you knew Natasha carried a storm inside her. It was always tamed, hiding just beneath the surface of her eyes. But, from a year of friendship, you’ve noticed that storm that seemed to erupt around this time of the year. Being your only friend, she was always the one to accompany you on your trips out around the city. It’s there where you noticed the way she flinched at carols and avoided the cheerful chaos of Christmas markets you brought her too, by moving through it as fast as she can. The world’s merriment seemed to mock her darker memories. She confessed one night, in a rare moment of vulnerability and a very expensive bottle of wine, that Christmas had always been a painful time for her. Her voice, usually steady and unwavering, softened as she looked at you across the table. She told you about her sister, Yelena—the only person in her family who had ever truly cared about Christmas. Yelena had been the kind of person who could find joy even in the bleakest of places, someone who refused to let the world’s coldness harden her heart.

“She loved it,” Natasha said, her lips curling into a wistful smile as if she could still see Yelena bustling around their childhood home. “The lights, the snow, the decorations. She’d drag me into whatever shop she could find, looking for things to make the house even more festive. Ornaments, candles, the cheesiest, most stupid Santa hats—whatever she could get her hands on.” She paused, her gaze unfocused as though she were looking back through the years.

Yelena had been the one to make Christmas feel like magic. She knew all of the Christmas carols, singing along even if the notes were slightly off-key. This joy followed her into her adulthood, and even when she became sick. Every year, she insisted on stringing up lights around their shared apartment —“even if we don’t have a tree, Natasha, we’ll have lights. You know it’s all about the glow.” She was fearless, mischievous, and relentlessly stubborn in her belief that joy was worth chasing, even if it didn’t come easy. “She’d bake,” Natasha continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Not well obviously— she couldn’t stand for long at the point. Plus, her cookies had always been terrible—but she didn’t care. She’d make a mess everywhere and laugh at herself, daring me to do better. I never tried, though. I always just watched her and took her to bed whenever she was done.” Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass, her knuckles whitening slightly. “She believed in traditions, even when there was no reason to. Especially when there was no reason to,” she added, “she said traditions gave people hope, something to hold on to in the dark. I didn’t get it then—I still don’t fully— but with time, I understood she was trying to help me be okay with the world when she was no longer around.”

Yelena had been more than just a younger sister to Natasha —she had been her tether, her mirror, her light. She was the last person left of her family, and the only one who ever made Natasha feel things she often tried to ignore: a steady warmth, a strong connection, the possibility of life being worth more. She was everything Natasha wish she could be.

And when Yelena died, Christmas died with her.

“There was no one to care about it anymore,” Natasha said, her voice breaking for the briefest of moments before she pushed the emotion back behind her walls, blinking her tears away. “No one to make it mean anything.” You reached across the table, placing your hand over hers. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t meet your eyes either. For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the air between you thick. “She would’ve liked you,” she murmured after a while, her voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “Yelena… she always liked people who made things feel… safe.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of her words settling deep in your heart. You realised, in that moment, just how much Natasha trusted you—how much she had given you by sharing this piece of herself. From that moment, you made a promise to yourself: a promise to return Yelena’s light back into her life.

⊹♡

One morning, you found yourself lost on a tree farm. Rows upon rows of evergreens stretched out like soldiers in formation, their frosted branches from the night before glistening in the morning sun. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound for a moment. Natasha walked beside you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, her eyes on swivel but not necessarily looking at the trees. She hadn’t said much since you picked her up that morning, you weren’t entirely sure if it was the early start or the occasion that silenced her.

“This one’s nice.” You said, gesturing to a stately Fraser fir with almost symmetrical branches. She stopped, gave the tree a quick once-over, and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, moving along until you could find the next one. You had planned on finding a tree that you both could put up at her place, but with each step, it seemed like this tree would be better suited living at yours. You tried again. “What about this one?” You pointed to a taller tree, its branches also slightly uneven but full of character. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I guess. If you like it.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t inviting either. You let out a small breath, watching it cloud in front of you before dissipating into the icy air.

“No, we can keep looking.”

Laughter and the occasional clatter of a fallen tree echoed through the air. You couldn’t see them mostly but could imagine families adorned in colourful hats and scarves scattered across the farm. Natasha, however, didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes back to skimming over the trees with a detached disinterest and her surroundings, her mouth set in a way that told you she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Do you want to go home? You asked gently.

She paused, her head tilting slightly as if weighing whether to respond. “You wanted a tree,” she said finally, her voice even. “So we’re getting a tree.”

“It’s not that important.” You said. “If you’re not into it, we can go.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m fine.” She said, her voice clipped. Then, softer: “Let’s just look over there.”

You didn’t press her further.

The two of you wandered deeper into the farm, the trees becoming denser, their branches heavy with snow. You found yourself wondering if Natasha even saw them, her eyes not even bothering with her environment anymore as she kept her head down towards the snow, her mind clearly somewhere far away. “How about this one?” You tried again, stopping in front of a modest blue spruce. Its branches were sturdy, the kind that could hold up heavy ornaments, and its shape was pleasingly perfect. She stopped beside you, her eyes lingering on the tree. She didn’t say anything right away, and for a moment, you thought she might dismiss it like the others. But then she tilted her head, considering.

“It’s okay.” She said, and while it wasn’t glowing praise, it was a step up from fine.

“You sure?” You asked, not wanting to push.

She nodded, her gaze lingering on the tree a second longer. “Yeah. It’s fine.” She finished, before turning abruptly back in the other direction. Later, the workers secured the tree to the roof of your car, their cheerful banter filling the space as you and Natasha stood off to the side. She didn’t say much, but when you glanced over at her, you thought you saw her mouth twitch—just the faintest hint of a smile. “Thanks for letting me tag along.” She said quietly.

You offered her a small smile. “I’m glad you came.”

⊹♡

Snow finally began to settle permanently in the middle of December. It clung to the rooftops and frosted the tree branches outside your apartment. Winter had truly arrived. You hadn’t seen Natasha since that morning; her work had whisked her off to the West Coast for an urgent business trip, leaving you to decorate the tree in your tiny apartment alone. Your living room was silent except for the soft hum of a holiday playlist you’d set to shuffle, but you were used to the lingering echo since moving in.

You missed her terribly.

Without Natasha here, you were unable to focus on anything but yourself: your terrible breakup last Christmas that had you packing your bags and running away to a different state, your argument with your family that had been the last time you’d spoken to them and the reason why you weren’t invited home this year, your sadness that crept up whenever you were forced to sit in silence with yourself. Deep down, you know she could see through you, could see how you suffered much like she did. It’s why you both clicked together instantly. But the difference with Natasha is that she never pried, never pushed you to talk about what you weren’t ready to say. And it wasn’t like you wanted to dwell on these things, but they lived inside you now, demanding attention in the silence.

Your ignorance was bliss, until it wasn’t.

And days when Natasha went away were the worst.

The doorbell rang at a late hour. Behind it stood Natasha, her coat dusted with fresh snow, her cheeks flushed pink from the nipping cold. She looked exhausted, her carry-on slung over one shoulder and her laptop bag in the other.

“You’re back?” You blurted out, wondering why she was here and not at her own place. It was Wednesday after all.

“I wanted to see you.” She admitted, shuffling awkwardly at her confession.

You pulled her through the door, allowing her a second to set her bags down with a tired sigh, her shoulders finally dropping as the door clicked shut behind her. “How was the trip?” You asked as you moved toward the kitchen, already reaching for the kettle and her mug.

“Exhausting.” She replied, shedding her snow-damp coat and draping it over the back of the chair. “And frustrating. Clients were indecisive, as usual, and the meetings went in circles half the time.”

You gave her a sympathetic look as you handed her a steaming mug of tea. “At least now you’re done for the holidays, right?”

She hummed in agreement, her fingers wrapping gratefully around the warmth of the cup. Despite the drink, you noticed her shiver and disappeared into your bedroom. You rummaged through your drawers, pulling out an oversized purple sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants.

When you handed them to her, she raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re not sitting around in wet clothes, Natasha.” You cut her off, gesturing toward the bathroom. “Go change.”

By the time she emerged, looking infinitely more comfortable in your clothes, you had noticed the snow starting to pick up outside. Large flakes swirled under the glow of the streetlamps, a storm intensifying.

Perfect weather for what you had planned.

You grabbed a spare hat and scarf from the coat rack, along with a pair of gloves, and tossed them at her.

“What’s this?” Natasha asked, catching the items with a puzzled expression.

“We’re going out.”

“Out? In this weather?”

You were already pulling on your own coat and boots, ignoring her protests. “Yes, out. You’ve been cooped up in airports and meeting rooms for weeks. You need this.”

“I need sleep.” She muttered, but she already had her coat, reaching for the hat, her lips twitching as if she was trying not to smile.

“Come on. You urged, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the door.

The streetlights cast a warm golden glow on the fresh blanket of snow, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her reluctant smile cracked through the guarded exterior she so often wore when you were outside. It was like sunlight breaking through clouds. Looking down at her watch, she noticed the time read 1am. “Oh my God, it’s the middle of the night,” she moaned, shaking her head, “and it’s freezing!”

“You’re Russian.” You deadpanned. “Aren’t you genetically programmed to thrive in this?”

She shot you a withering look, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

She turned back around towards your building but before she could move any further, the first snowball struck her shoulder with a soft thwump. She froze, blinking in disbelief. You stood a few feet away, grinning triumphantly, the remnants of the snowball crumbling in your hand. She swung back around, her eyes narrowed, lips parted in exaggerated shock. “Oh, so that’s how it is? These are your clothes you know!” Before you could reply, she bent down, scooped up snow, and hurled it at you. It hit squarely on your chest, the icy cold seeping through your coat.

“Hey!” You yelped, laughing.

“You started this!” She shot back, her voice light—playful in a way you rarely heard.

And then it was war. Snowballs flew in all directions, and the street filled with your laughter, echoing off the quiet houses. Natasha’s aim was deadly accurate, and you were sure she was holding back for your sake. It was quite pathetic. At one point, she feigned defeat only to pounce on you with a pile of snow that left you sputtering.

“You’re a cheat!” You gasped, brushing snow off your face.

“And you’re slow!” She quipped, already forming another snowball to smush in your face.

The cold stung your nose and turned your cheeks raw, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Natasha laughed—real and unrestrained, her head thrown back, the sound almost musical in the still night. It was the kind of laugh that felt like a gift, something rare and precious, and you never wanted it to end. Finally, both of you collapsed onto the snow, breathless and flushed. The stars peeked through the gaps in the clouds, and the world seemed impossibly quiet, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Natasha’s head rested on your shoulder, her knitted beanie (that actually belonged to you) slightly askew. “Okay,” she said between gasps, “I admit—that was fun.”

“You’re so welcome.” You teased, shifting to look at her.

“But that’s only because I beat your ass.”

She looked so beautiful in this moment. Her cheeks were rosy, the same shade as her damp hair where stray snowflakes had melted. She was at peace—something you wish you saw more of. You brushed a gloved hand against her cheek, then leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her icy forehead, unable to stop yourself.

“You were right. You’re freezing.” You murmured.

“Maybe.” She replied, her smile small. She shifted closer, laying her head on top of yours. “But I don’t mind.”

⊹♡

With both you and Natasha no longer at work, meant she could hang out with you more often. It was late one evening —you both had spent the day inside your apartment doing absolutely —when she insisted on a walk, claiming the air was getting "stuffy," though you suspected she just needed an excuse to stretch her legs.

Somehow, you had ended up in the suburbs in New Jersey.

“You know, this is kind of perfect.” She said, glancing over at you with a small smile. “No one’s out right now.” You laughed softly, the warmth of her gaze doing more to fight the chill than the layers you’d bundled yourself into. “Yes, well, the suburbs In Jersey are surprisingly magical when nobody’s around.” You joked, sarcasm evident, as you nodded toward the rows of houses strung with twinkling lights. It felt like something out of a postcard, the kind of scene you’d only read about.

The two of you turned a corner and were met with the soft harmony of voices carried on the wind. A group of carolers stood in front of a house, lanterns glowing in their hands as they sang “Silent Night.” Natasha paused, her steps slowing as she tilted her head to listen. Her expression softened, a rare kind of calm washing over her features.

“You don’t strike me as the caroling type.” You teased, bumping her shoulder lightly.

“I’m not.” She admitted, though her lips curved into a grin. “But... it’s nice, isn’t it? Peaceful.”

It was odd. This was the first time you’d seen Natasha act normal with the idea of Christmas.

“They make it look so easy.” She said after a while, her voice quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“They make it look easy believing in... I don’t know. The magic of it all.” She added, as her brow furrowed.

You turned to look at her, the soft glow of the carolers’ lanterns catching in her green eyes. “Maybe it’s not about believing.” You said after a moment. “Maybe it’s just about... letting yourself feel it. Even if it hurts, let yourself feel all of it.”

She stood quietly for a beat before adding, “Yelena loved this song.”

You stayed silent, letting the moment slip away as she became lost in the tune. Natasha's expression contorted with pain as the song finished and the group moved on, but made no move to leave. Without hesitation, you clasped her hand tightly, guiding her away and back in the direction of the city.

You both walked in silence the entire way home.

⊹♡

The next time you saw Natasha was the following weekend when she came over for a sleepover. You could tell the temperature had dropped even more just by the state you found her in at your door. You could only see her eyes. She was wearing your beanie again, with a scarf wound tightly around her neck and the exposed parts of her face. She carried a mismatched tote bag that practically bursted at the seams, the telltale sign of someone who couldn’t quite decide what to pack.

She’d never slept over before.

Well, purposely.

Later that night, in the cozy warmth of your kitchen, you began pulling out ingredients for gingerbread cookies, demanding the taller woman come stand beside you once her ‘bones were warm enough.’ Natasha remained perched on a stool, her favourite mug clasped in her hands, watching you with a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk.

"Our first sleepover. And you’re putting me to work? At this hour? I almost died coming over to see you.” She teased, glancing at the clock.

It’s nearly midnight.

"It’s time for midnight gingerbread.” You replied, beaming as you tied an apron around your waist. "It’s a tradition now."

Now?" She echoed, laughing. "This is literally the first time we’re doing this."

"Exactly, that’s how traditions start."

Natasha rolled her eyes but hopped off the stool to join you, muttering under her breath about wishing she had froze to death on the way over before tugging at your apron strings like a mischievous child, pushing you slightly away from your spot so she could fill it.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The process was chaotic from the start. Natasha’s never baked before, and it showed. The first mishap happened when she cracked an egg with a little too much enthusiasm, sending yolk sliding across the counter. And from then, she managed to do nothing correct without your assistance. You were halfway through laughing when she retaliated by flicking a bit of flour at your cheek.

"Did you just—"

Before you could finish, she grinned devilish and dropped more flour over your head, “oh no, looks like you’ve got a little something there.”

Again, the process was chaotic.

Precision measuring gave way to messy improvisation as flour flew through the air in clouds of white. Natasha was unrelenting, chasing you around the island with a bag of powdered sugar like it’s a weapon. By the time you called a truce, the counters, the floor, and both of you were completely dusted with flour. "You look ridiculous.” You said, laughing so hard your sides ached. She wiped a streak of flour off her nose and smeared it onto your shirt. “Speak for yourself. You look like you’ve never seen the sun before.”

When you finally managed to clean up enough to resume baking, Natasha was benched to mixing the dough— far far away from the flour— but it took her all of ten seconds to abandon the spatula and dig in with her hands. “Are you sure this is hygienic?” She asked, grinning as she squished the dough between her fingers like it’s Play-Doh.

You’re pretty sure she doesn’t know what Play-Doh is.

"Absolutely not.” You replied, shaking your head. But neither of you cared. Somehow, The batter never even made it to the oven. After a mutual taste test—"for quality control," Natasha insisted upon —you realised you (she) had eaten most of it. "So, we’re out of ingredients." You admitted, licking a stray smear of molasses from your thumb. Natasha plopped down on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets with a satisfied sigh. “Good.” She said, licking a bit of dough off her finger. “The batter’s better anyway.” You sat beside her, the warmth of the oven lingering even though you never used it. The kitchen was a mess, the cookies a total failure, but none of it mattered.

You both fell asleep that night with the biggest smiles on your face.

⊹♡

Natasha ended up staying the next weekend too. Christmas fell on a Sunday, the big day seemed to sneak up on both of you, but for now, it was Christmas Eve, and the night stretched on, timeless and unhurried. After watching a few Christmas movies, the two of you found yourselves curled up in front of your fireplace — the fireplace being a YouTube video on loop coming from your television. The crackling flames painted your surroundings in shifting shadows, the room bathed in a burnt orange haze that made everything feel a little softer, a little more intimate. Natasha’s arms were wrapped securely around you, her presence grounding and warm. You hummed an old carol you heard once before under your breath, a lullaby that filled the quiet. Her hand traced lazy circles on your back, her fingers light but steady, as though she was trying to etch the moment into her memory. You watched her, unable to help yourself. The way the firelight kissed her skin, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the peace in her expression— how rare it was to see her like this. Truly at ease. Vulnerable, but not guarded. You wanted to hold this moment forever, to preserve it for her in the way she deserved, and selfishly for yourself.

Falling for Natasha wasn’t difficult. From the beginning of the friendship, there was a constant undercurrent, a slow burn that never fully ignited, yet refused to fade. You fell in love with her so suddenly—in the quiet moments—that you couldn’t figure out when she became more to you than just a friend. Or if she was ever just that. And over the past year, you’d learned there was so much more to her than the cold, unyielding exterior she presented to the world. No one loved as much as she did. And now, as you sat basically on her lap, the space between both impossibly vast and unbearably close, you realised that falling for Natasha wasn’t just easy—it was inevitable.

“This is what Christmas is supposed to feel like.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, like a thought she hadn’t meant to say aloud. As if she didn’t want to disturb the silence. Her gaze was distant, yet there was a softness in her tone that made your chest burn. You hesitated, the words catching in your throat before they could fully form. “You miss her.” You finally said. It wasn’t quite a question, but Natasha understood. Her eyes flickered to yours, that same vulnerability reflecting through. “I always miss her.” She admitted, her voice even quieter now, almost fragile. She didn’t need to say Yelena’s name; you knew. “It’s strange… even after all these years, I still expect her to be here sometimes. Like she’ll just walk in, scolding me for not keeping the lights on all day or dragging me out of the house to help on her latest conquest.”

Your heart cried out with something deep and tender, the kind of feeling no words could ever quite capture. “I’ve got something for you.” She looked at you, her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity as you stood and walked to the Christmas tree. From beneath its branches, you retrieved a small, carefully wrapped box and brought it back to her—one of many gifts you’ve bought for her. “This was supposed to be for tomorrow,” you said, sitting down beside her again, “but I think it’ll mean more tonight.” She took the gift, her fingers brushing against yours briefly before she began unwrapping it. Beneath the paper was a small music box, its pearl-coloured sides adorned with golden, intricate carvings. She opened the lid, revealing a tiny engraving inside: the words “My Light” in Russian reside underneath a picture of Yelena in her youth, dressed as an angel for a school nativity play, her beaming smile radiant and full of life.

Natasha’s breath caught, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the edges of the engraving. “How did you—” she began, her voice breaking.

“You have to twist the key, Nat.” You said softly, closing the lid of the box.

She turned the key, the lid opening to reveal her younger sister all over again; as the music box began to play a gentle melody. But it wasn’t just music—it was a recording, faint but unmistakable hidden under the notes. The sound of Yelena’s voice filled the room, singing “Silent Night” with all the enthusiasm a child could muster for the slow song. Natasha’s hand flew to her mouth, and tears streamed freely down her face as the recording picked up another voice. It was quieter, steadier, but unmistakably hers. A younger version of her sang along with Yelena, their voices blending, only broken by their shared giggles as they sang together, sometimes stumbling over the lyrics. Her shoulders shook as she listened, and you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. She clung to you, her face buried against your neck, her tears damp against your skin, as sobs rocked her slender frame. You held her tightly, wishing you could somehow ease the weight of her grief and the bittersweet joy of this moment.

Her lips trembled as she tried to form words in the broke of your neck. “This…this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t even know how you did this—” She pulled away from you to glance back at the music box, her fingers delicately tracing the engraved picture of Yelena. “She was my everything. The only good thing I had for so long – moya sestra (my sister), moy malen'kiy svet (my little light.)”

You nodded, squeezing her hand. “I know. And now you have her again, even if it’s just a little piece.” Natasha set the music box down carefully, as though it were made of glass. She leaned forward, confident in her actions, in her love for you—a soft kiss pressed to your lips.

She had never kissed you before.

She wanted to again.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You leaned in, kissing her once again, the taste of salt comforting. “You deserve everything good in this world,” you said softly, stroking the remnants of her tears, “and you deserve love, Nat. I’ll promise I’ll remind you of that every day.”

You placed a delicate hand over her heart and spoke, “I see you. And in this light of yours, I see her.”

She kissed you again, softer and longer than the last, her lips brushing yours; fuelled behind every emotion, every feeling, every part of her heart that now belonged to you, “Thank you for giving her back to me.”

You smiled softly, brushing a stray red curl away from her face. "I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering, for as long as I can. To remind you there’s always light to find, even in the darkest nights."

She leaned in, resting her forehead gently against yours. "You already have."

You smiled, brushing a stray red curl from her face. “I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering for as long as I can. And to remind you of her light. With you. With Yelena.”

She leaned in, her forehead pressing gently against yours. “You already have.”

[latenightdaydreams]

I have an idea that Konig is Ghostface and he's been stalking reader for a while. He found out reader is a bookworm outside but literally a cunt inside. Like she never comes to parties, spend hours with her vibration instead. One night, Konig sneaks in her house and rape her fat unused pussy 😩😩😩

🤭🤭🤭YES😮‍💨

Ghostface!König x Nerd!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

🚫TRIGGERS🚫

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, bondage, voyeurism, stalking

3.1k word count

👻

.

.

The first time König saw you was at the campus Valentine's Day party. You showed up dressed in a festive pink sweater, but then sat in the corner with a stank look on your face. His eyes followed you as you seemingly complained to the girl you came with, a friend? Either way, your breasts and sensual body shape caught his attention.

König walks up to a guy that’s talking to your friend, “Wer ist das?” He asks, pointing to you.

“She’s a bitch,” the girl's friend hits his chest as if to tell him to shut up.

“She’s just shy. She hates parties.” Christa, your friend, defends you.

They all stand there and watch you gather your things and walk out the door without saying bye to anyone, not even your friend. Interesting. What type of woman are you? He was intrigued and wanted to see more of you. See what those bouncy breasts look like outside of that pink sweater.

After this first encounter, he dedicated his time to following you around campus. First, only to figure out what your schedule was. What classes do you take, what teacher do you have, what building the classes are in, etc. Just the basics.

He stalks behind you, far enough behind that you’d never notice; but close enough to listen in on any conversations you had. Which was basically zero. You kept to yourself no matter what you were doing. If someone interacted with you, you’d have such a poor attitude about it. Snappy, short, lots of eye rolling. This went on for two months.

One day, König set up a forced interaction. Dressed casually and slicked his blonde hair back. He looks handsome, standing at 6 '10 and being pure muscle. He knows he is attractive; his personality just sucks, much like yours seems to.

He lingers outside your second class of the day and looks around as if he were a lost student. Once he sees you, he walks over.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Your eyes dart to him as you take out an air pod. “What?” Your tone is unkind.

“I’m lost and I don’t know which room-”

“I’m late for class.” You cut him off and walk past him.

König just watches as you walk away with a smirk on his face. He knows once he has you in his hands, he’d have fun breaking you. After that, he waits for you to leave class and follow you home. Since you would not get to know him the typical way, he would continue getting to know you in the shadows.

You walk fast, but he has no issues keeping up. Your hips sway hypnotically, keeping his attention. Finally, you stop at a cute one-story home. He watches as you take your keys out and enter your home. Waiting a few minutes before he walks up to peek into your windows. He looks around to make sure no neighbors are watching as he walks up to your house, crouching.

Eyes peering through the first window, he sees your living room. Your shoes kicked off by the door, TV turned on already, and backpack thrown on the couch. His eyes scan the room, trying to take in every detail.

Continuing on he comes to the next window. He sees you and ducks back, worried you might have seen him. After a few seconds of no screams, he creeps back to the window. There you are. Taking off your shirt and jeans, just standing there in your beige bra and blue cotton panties. Totally unaware you’re being watched as you check yourself out in your dresser's mirror.

Watching like a hawk as you open the top draw and pull out a pink little vibrator. König could already feel his pants begin to tighten. You walk to your bed, grabbing a towel that’s folded underneath the bed. Laying the towel out, getting your pillows situated, and moving the blanket. It’s almost like a ritual and König’s interest is definitely piqued. 

He watches as you lie down on the bed. Your pretty pussy covered with a little bit of hair, as you spread your legs he can see the pink within your folds. Fuck this is gold…

König quickly undoes his pants as he watches you pick a setting before moving it to your little clit. Through the window he can hear how loud you’re being, your legs twitch from the stimulation. All the while König stands there feverishly stroking his leaky cock. Imagining him running up to you and shoving his cock in that tight little pussy…

Your hips begin to grind into the vibrator as your head drops back on to your pillows. Your left leg is starting to tremble… König watches without blinking as your innocent pussy begins to squirt. Fingers replacing the vibrator, you start rubbing your clit quickly. Your sweet juices are spraying everywhere. He bites his lip as he begins to cum, accidently cumming on the siding of your house. It felt as if he were a wild animal and just marked you, leaving his scent behind to deter other predators.

This became a ritual for König as the school year went on. He would follow you around campus, watch who you talk to, see how you interact with the world. Occasionally he would try to go up to you and just talk nicely, but every time you shot him down. As if you’re better than him. Then he would follow you home and masturbate outside your window as you play with your tiny cunt.

That was until summer break happened. You went away to work as a camp counselor for the summer, leaving König behind. With you gone, König felt lost. He spent most of the summer inside watching porn. Looking for actresses that resemble you, but none could match your perfect breasts or pretty pink cunt.

August rolls around and classes start back up. König walks into his social science class and sees you… perfect. You sit in the front, middle. Teacher’s pet know-it-all, of course you’d pick there to sit.

König sits in the very back, where he has a clear line of view in your direction. He watches as you rest your head in the palm of your hand. How you cross your legs and squeeze, as if you’re trying to stimulate some sort of pleasure. Little slut, you can’t even control yourself in class. All the obsession comes rushing back to him. He needs you.

Halloween rolls around. König is handed a flier for a costume party that will be happening at one of the sororities here on campus.  His new friend Carl, your friend’s boyfriend, goes out with him to buy costumes.

 They both walk through the Halloween store and talk casually. He tries to think of ways to ask about you without being so direct.

“Is Christas bitch friend coming?” König chuckles to make it seem less important to him.

“Y/n? Probably not. She never shows to support anything Christa does. When she does, she’s in a foul mood and just leaves. It breaks Christas heart.” He sounded genuinely upset with you and your behavior.

“What’s her deal anyway?”

“I don’t know. Little stuck up virgin bitch thinks she’s better than Christa because she’s waiting until marriage.”

Virgin. That’s why you only touch your clit; you don’t want to “pop” your cherry.

“Is she religious?”

“Probably. I never cared to ask. Let’s just hope she doesn’t show up and ruin it.”

“Yeah.” König didn’t want you to show up, but for a very different reason. He had something special in the works.

Reaching up, König grabs a Ghostface mask and holds it up to his face. “Hey, what about this?”

.

.

Halloween night, König puts on the black robe over a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, and a small satchel bag that has duct tape and rope. A real knife in his hand. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, looking at himself. Blonde hair longer and pushed back, dark circles under her icy blue eyes, and a twisted look on his face.

“You got this. You can do it.” He whispers as he slips the mask over his face.

König leaves his shared apartment on campus and walks down the street while the sun is just beginning to set. Other students rush past him, all heading to their own Halloween parties. Towering over everyone dressed as Ghostface, he had a few people jump out of fear. From behind the mask, he apologizes while laughing. As if he is a normal guy.

Finally, he approaches the steps on the sorority. Walking inside he sees that there are a few other Ghostface at the party already. König rolls his eyes under the masks. His attention turns to the staircase as he hears Christa and Carl arguing. Without being seen, he walks closer to listen in. It’s clear that she’s talking about y/n.

You bailed. Probably home studying or making yourself squirt. The thought gives König a chub. You’re exactly where he hoped you would be. At first, he was nervous this wouldn’t work out for him. No, you never change. Easy to track. Before he is seen, he slips out of the doors.

He blends in easily for once in his life. Everyone dressed up like freaks or sluts. The giant isn’t the main focal point today. Once he enters your neighborhood, he notices the empty streets, but very loud house music. All of your neighbors seem to gather, yet your home's lights are on.

Cautiously, he approaches your living room window. Boom, there you are, asleep on the couch. The TV on TLC, some random trash television show. He attempts to lift the window in front of him, but it’s locked. Moving down a window to your bedroom, also locked. König walks around the back and tries the back door, locked. The kitchen window is a little smaller, but he still tries it. Open.

Carefully, König climbs through the window. His massive body just barely begins to fit, but he manages. Slowly he climbs off of the counter that was right under the window, being sure to not kick anything off the counter and possibly wake you up.

Once stable on the floor he stood there for a while and looked around your kitchen. Your style was quirky, which was odd because you act as if you have no personality. Before waking you up, he goes into the bedroom and gets that towel you keep under your bed. He lays it out on the bed the same way you do. Even arranging the pillows and blanket for you.

Reaching into his bag under his black robes, he takes out the rope and tape. The rope he leaves on the bed as he walks out of the bedroom with the tape. He pulls some and he can be quick to shut you up.

With soft steps he makes his way to the living room. He can see your hands are in your hands as if you fell asleep masturbating. A virgin whore. He’s ready to just make you into his whore. Standing over you as you sleep; eyes drifting over your breast and the tiny bit of midriff that is showing.

Slowly lowering his face closer to you until he sees your eyes open. At first it’s as if you didn’t register what you saw. König tilts his head. Then you open your eyes again and begin to scream. Quickly he covers your mouth with the tape.

“Shhh,” his eyes go wild behind the mask.

You try to stand and get away but his massive body easily overpowers yours and slams you back down into the couch.

“Don’t fucking move.” He hisses as he cuts the tape with the knife. Pulling more, he adds an extra layer.

With ease he lifts your body from the couch, pinning your arms to your side so you can’t hit him. Your legs kicking as he brings you into your room; eyes going wide as you see that he set the bed up the same way you set up when you masturbate.

König giggles looking at your face, “I did good, ja?”

He grabs the rope and tosses you on the bed. As you try to stand up, he pushes you back hard, “Give up Maus, you’re mine tonight.”

Using his massive body to pin you down, he climbs on top of you. Your face down into the mattress as he grabs one of your arms and pins it behind your back before grabbing the other. He uses the rope to tie your hands together, tight enough to dig into your flesh.

“I’ll show you how to have a really good time.”

König stands and grabs your body, turning you to rest on your back, nuzzled in the pillows like when you masturbate. He walks to your dresser and takes out the small pink vibrator. You look up at him with wide eyes, it’s clear that he’s been watching you.

“Now, don’t move, or I might cut you.” He says leaning back over your body as he begins to cut your shirt from your body. Your full breasts come into view and he can’t help the temptation of reaching up and pinching your nipple. You try to scream through the tape, but the sound is muffled.

His attention drops down to the waistband of your pajama pants. Slowly he pulls them down. Seeing your cunt face to face instead of at a distance was breathtaking. Speechless, he moves his fingers through the soft hair that covers your pussy. Finally, he can feel you, smell you, taste you.

“If you move, I’ll gut you.” He threatens as he begins to settle himself between your legs.

He lifts his mask slightly and takes in a deep breath of what your pussy smells like. It’s almost sinful. He has to taste it. Slowly he slips his tongue out and swipes it through your folds. You squirm slightly but stop, remembering the knife. He swipes his tongue up again. If he knew you were this sweet, he would have broken in sooner.

Shoving his face into your pussy he takes a deep breath before sucking on your clit. He bites it lightly, causing you pain as your body jerks away. Not letting you move; he wraps his arms around your legs tightly to hold you still. Spit running down his chin as he aggressively laps at your cunt. He slurps your pussy juice before biting your labia. Again, you jerk in pain and König just laughs as he pulls his mask back down.

Once he stands from the bed he just looks down at your naked body. He begins to pull off the black robe, tossing aside the satchel. Stripping down to his birthday suit, but the mask stays on. His body is massive with a cock so heavy it hangs.

He grabs your pink vibrator and turns it on, gently holding it to your clit. His eyes light up as your legs begin to tremble. Muffled little moans escaping your lips. You can’t help but to feel pleasure, even though you’re in this situation.

“Good…kleine Hure.” He turns off the vibrator and sets it aside. Inching closer to you, he slaps his cock on your pussy a few times.

“Ready?”

You shake your head no and try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your legs and drags you back to him. “No, no, no, you’re not getting away that easy.”

Looking down at your cunt he rubs the head of his cock back and forth over your clit. Slowly he slips down. With one hard thrust of his hips, he bullies his monster cock deep inside of your unused pussy. The tightness of your cunt was something only his hand had ever given him.

“Mien Gott, you really were a virgin.” He chuckled.

König grabs your legs and lets them fall over his arms as he holds your ass up off the bed slightly. His hips rolling rapidly into you, looking down he can see blood on his cock. A soft growl leaves his lips.

He lets your legs drop as he leans over you, one of his hands wrapping around your throat lightly. “My fat unprotected cock just ruined your pretty virgin cunt.”

You try to turn your head away from him as tears begin to roll down your eyes, but he doesn’t let you. He turns your head back to face him.

“Eyes open. I want to see the shame when I make you cum.”

You open your eyes as you have no choice but to listen. His free hand reaches down between your legs and begins to rub your clit. Trying to resist the pleasure was impossible, your legs tremble as your pussy feels as if it were torn in two.

He watches as you shake your head no. Your pussy getting tighter on his cock, he knew. He pulls out quickly, shoving his middle and ring finger into you. He presses down on the lower part of your stomach as his fingers curl, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

You drop your head back and he slaps your pussy, “Eyes on me!” His voice a low growl.

Lifting you head back up to look at him, your eyes cross from the explosion of pleasure you’re feeling. You squirt, hitting the Ghostface mask slightly, getting it all over König’s hands and arms.

“That’s what I want to see!” He excitedly slips his cock back into your pussy. His eyes watch as you wince in pain.

His hips move mercilessly into you. “I’m going to cum deep inside of this pussy. You’re going to get pregnant with my babies. You like staying home anyway, right?”

The look on your face as he talks down to you is full of fear and it’s just enough to get him off. He presses his cock fully into you, your cries of pain muffled buts still so beautiful. König cums deep inside of you. His seamen painting every inch of your velvety walls. A loud groan leaves his mouth as he tries to press in even further.

The look on your face is almost relieved as he cums, that means this is over with. So, you thought. He pulls his cock out, covered in blood and cum. In one quick motion he flips you on to your stomach, pulling you down the bed a little. He sits on the bed now, one leg on either side of you. König leans forward to pull the tape off of your mouth and drags you closer to him by your shoulders.

“You’re going to clean this.” He says slapping his cock on your face a few times. “Open.”

You don’t struggle, opening your mouth wide. The taste of salty cum and blood assaults your taste buds. His hand grasping a fist full of hair and shoving his cock down your throat. Your body thrashes, legs kicking as you gag.

“Get used to it, Maus. My cock isn’t leaving your throat any time soon.”

[lvnleah]

heyyyy, could i request an alessia x r maybe christmas fic? something to do with an arsenal christmas team bonding, where alessia picks r's name and the gift she gets outs their relationship to the team 🧡

secret santa | Alessia Russo

thank you for this request!

The idea of a Secret Santa had come up during a particularly gloomy December training session. The rain had been pelting down, and Beth had piped up mid-lap, “Why don’t we do something festive? Secret Santa! Everyone loves a good Secret Santa.”

By the time training ended and everyone was huddled in the locker room drying off and warming up, Kim had already taken charge, organizing names on slips of paper and stuffing them into a beanie that belonged to Lotte. 

“Alright,” she said, getting everyone’s attention. “Everyone gets one pick, no swapping.”

You sat on the bench, hair still damp from the shower, watching as your teammates took turns pulling names. You were relatively new to the team, having transferred in July, but they’d welcomed you with open arms. Still, there was a lingering feeling of being the “newbie,” even after months of training and matches.

“Your turn!” Caitlin nudged you with a grin, handing you the beanie. You reached in, pulling out a piece of paper and unfolding it.

Kyra.

You suppressed a smirk. Of course. Having played alongside Kyra for years with the Matildas, you knew her well enough to craft the perfect gift—well, more like the perfect joke gift. You tucked the paper into your pocket as Beth clapped her hands together.

“Now remember,” Beth said, grinning mischievously, “the point of this is fun. Get creative, but don’t spend too much, yeah?”

Alessia, sitting on the bench across from you, was fiddling with her shin pads, looking far too nonchalant. You caught her eye, and she gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile that made your stomach flip. 

Since you’d started dating in September, it had been a constant challenge to keep things low-key around the team. You weren’t hiding your relationship, exactly—it just hadn’t come up yet. However, Alessia’s stolen glances and subtle touches were starting to get noticed, and you knew it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Fast forward to the night of the Christmas party at Kim’s house. The team had gone all out with festive jumpers, Santa hats, and enough food and drink to feed a small army. You arrived with Kyra and Alessia, laughing as Kyra complained about how you’d forced her to wear a ridiculous Christmas sweater with a kangaroo wearing a Santa hat on it.

“C’mon, it’s on-brand,” you teased, nudging her as you stepped inside.

Kim’s house was warm and inviting, the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner, and the sound of Christmas songs playing softly in the background. The team was already scattered around, laughing and chatting. Alessia was by the fireplace, holding a glass of wine, and your heart did its usual flip when she smiled at you. She looked good—too good, really, in her navy jumper with little snowflakes embroidered on it.

“Here we go!” Beth clapped her hands, gathering everyone into the living room. “Secret Santa time!”

You felt your nerves spike. You weren’t worried about your gift for Kyra—it was meant to be a joke, after all. What worried you was Alessia. She’d been suspiciously tight-lipped about who she’d gotten, and that smug grin she’d given you earlier in the week didn’t inspire confidence.

Kyra went first. She unwrapped the small box you’d handed her and burst out laughing when she pulled out the custom t-shirt with a photo of her on it that read: “Kyra Cooney-Cross: Professional Pest” in bold letters.

“Oh, this is brilliant,” she said, holding it up for everyone to see as the room erupted into laughter.

“You’re welcome,” you said with a mock bow, earning an elbow to the ribs from Kyra.

Steph chuckled, “The perfect shirt for the pest!”

One by one, the gifts were opened. Some were thoughtful, others outright ridiculous. Beth had gotten Katie a bottle of Guinness with a bow on it. Lotte had gifted Beth a cardboard cutout of Viv. 

Finally, it was your turn. Kim handed you a neatly wrapped box, and you immediately knew it was from Alessia. You glanced at her across the room, and she was biting her lip, clearly trying not to smile.

With everyone’s eyes on you, you carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small, framed photo. At first, you didn’t understand what you were looking at. It was a picture of your dog, Frankie, wearing a tiny Arsenal kit. But beneath the photo was a handwritten note, framed beautifully:

“For our little family. Love, Alessia.”

Your heart stopped. You stared at the frame, your face heating up as the room went silent for a beat. Then, of course, the questions started.

“Wait, what?” Katie blurted out, leaning forward to get a better look.

“Our little family?” Beth repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Leah raised an eyebrow, “Wait are you— Are you two? No…are you a thing—”

Kyra gasped dramatically, interrupting Leah. “Are you two…together?!”

Alessia, who had been grinning like a Cheshire cat, finally spoke up. “Yeah,” she said simply, her voice light but confident. “We are.”

The room erupted into chaos. Beth cheered. Katie demanded to know how long this had been going on. Lotte just laughed, shaking her head like she’d suspected it all along.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was not how I wanted to tell you all.”

“Oh, come on,” Kim said, smirking. “It was obvious. You two are terrible at being subtle.”

Alessia crossed the room to stand beside you, slipping her arm around your waist. “Well, now you know,” she said, her smile softening as she looked at you. “Merry Christmas?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into her. “Merry Christmas, Less.”

And despite the teasing and questions that followed, you couldn’t deny that it felt good—like a weight had been lifted. The team knew, and they were happy for you. It wasn’t how you’d planned it, but it was perfect all the same.

[helluverse-rewrites]

Making Stritzø happen

Gonna be real; I have no idea what their ship name is

But YES. I am gonna make these two a couple!!!

These two meet the same as in canon, and at the Harvest Moon Festival, Blitzø and Striker have the same target, and as it turns out, this target is fast and quick-witted, so Striker and Blitzø have to team up to take their target down. And when they do, Blitzø offers Striker the opportunity to join I. M. P, which he ends up accepting

During Striker's time at I. M. P. He starts inevitably falling for Blitzø, he starts to admire Blitzø's questionable leadership abilities and finds the fact that he tricked Stolas into giving him his Grimoire

But Striker has also had time to realize just terrible Stolas truly is. Like, yeah, Striker knew that Goetia prince was bad luck, they all are! But the way he treats Blitzø just makes his blood boil, but he knows he can't do anything since the Grimoire is their only key to earth

Some other things happen but I don't want to spoil it so I'm just gonna go over how they are as boyfriends okay?

Striker in my mind is much more accustomed to his emotions than at least half of the cast, so I feel like he is rather the romantic once he finds someone who he adores romantically. He loves to plan dates and shit like that, he always has a romantic gesture up his sleeve

Meanwhile Blitzø is way more subtle in how he shows his love and appreciation. And he finds himself slipping back into old habits of pushing people away, especially with romantic partners. He's been through a lot and Striker understands that, but goddam is it frustrating when Striker finds himself being the only one trying to hold this relationship together

Despite Blitzø being illiterate, he has a great memory and is very observant. So if he notices Striker staring at something through a window to a store, he makes a mental note to buy it later. Striker makes an offhand comment about his favorite food? Blitzø is cooking it next thing in the morning. It's the little stuff like that, really

[sinfulpanda16]

1 Year Death Anniversary

Bakugou Katsuki, Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, x reader

Your husband lost you one year ago. How does he treat this day? Can he still think about you without crying? How does he mourn your death?

💔Bakugou Katsuki

He comes home after a long day of fighting villains. He goes straight to bed in his hero costume. He sighs softly. He has to admit, he did so good at work today. He gave those villains a good beating and put them in their place real fast. That might have all been because of you.

His beautiful baby. With the prettiest smile and the most beautiful face he's ever seen.

His anger, grief, and loneliness from losing you are what drove him today. Bakugou can't help but smirk, "Even now you still manage to rile me up," he said hoping you would hear him from wherever you are.

The day you died and had your funeral, Bakugou came home and decided to pack all of your stuff in a storage unit. He just couldn't see any of it without feeling awful. It would just remind him of the fact that fact he failed to protect you. But now, one year later, he gathers up the courage to get up and head back to the storage unit.

He walks, still in his hero costume, to you late at night. He makes it there and takes out his key. He opens the door and is met with boxes. His heart begins to pound fast, but he tells himself that it's fine. Nervously, he opens the first box in front of him and finds the stuffed animals he's gifted you.

The big one he won for you at the festival just a few months before you passed away. The one he gifted you when he was pleading for your forgiveness for doing something stupid. Bakugou smiles softly upon remembering that day. The one he gifted you for Valentine's Day one year, and the one he gifted you way back in his U.A years. The one he gifted you for that Secret Santa Class 1-A did.

Bakugou hadn't even noticed a tear started running down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, "Damm it." he says in a broken voice.

For this reason, he avoided coming here. He couldn't even get through the first box without crying. He looks at the small plushie in his hand, the nostalgia of his U.A years hit hard. He still remembers the look you gave him when you opened his present. It was full of gratitude and blushy.

He misses you. He wants you back.

He lets a few tears fall for you. You had always told him "It's ok sweetie, you can cry. Bottling up your emotions isn't healthy. And it doesn't look good either." Bakugou let out a soft chuckle, wiped his tears and sniffed a little. "I know baby. It doesn't" he says softly.

He looks back at the plushie and puts it away in its box.

He leaves the storage unit and heads back home. Missing you so much.

💔Izuku Midoriya

Izuku wakes up early and sits up in bed. He tries to wake himself up and then he realizes what today is. The day you died on the field and left your husband. It hurt like hell, however, Midoriya has learned to be spiritual and hopeful, so he turns to his bedside where your picture is. He smiled softly and whispered, "Morning sweetheart". He reaches for the frame and looks at you. "I'll visit you soon. ok, sweetie?" he says softly looking at your beautiful features.

He admires you for a bit then puts your picture back on the nightstand and gets up to get ready for his hero work.

Being the number one hero, he barely has time for himself. He's constantly out saving lives and keeping the citizens safe. You were by him through it all until a year ago. Now that you're gone, Izuku always takes the time to visit your grave whenever he can. Today he planned on perhaps leaving his office earlier to visit you.

However, he caught himself fighting a villain and the bastard was not backing out. He's disrupting the city, and everyone is in a panic. Deku puts up a good fight along with Dynamight and Shoto. With their quirks, they manage to put an end to the villain's plan.

When the citizens realized they were saved they cheered for the top three heroes. Deku was surrounded by claps, cheering, and praises and he couldn't help but smile at the people.

Deku smiles brightly and subconsciously reaches out to wrap his arm around his shoulder.

But you weren't there.

Deku realized and turned to his side to see no one. His beautiful love who would help fight villains by his side, protect the city, and wave back at the crowd with a big smile on her precious face in a moment like this wasn't there.

Midoriya would always wrap his arm around you after winning a huge battle and be strong for your people. And he realized he will never be able to do that again.

Deku started shedding a few tears and Bakugou and Todoroki watched him. They knew exactly what was wrong and they too started feeling grief.

It sucked so hard. Deku only kept shedding tears as the crowd continued to cheer for him. He gave the crowd one last big smile before leaving the scene with his quirk to visit you.

He made it to your grave and immediately got on his knees to hug your tombstone letting the tears fall. Losing a loved one isn't easy and Izuku realized that it never gets easier.

💔Shoto Todoroki

Shoto did not take your death well. Before you, he was so lost. With his family, with his friends, with his dreams, with life.

But then he met you. The most beautiful, powerful, and kindest person he's ever met. You helped him find HIS purpose. You were his knight in shining armor and so Shoto worked hard for himself and for you. You two were so happy and had so much love for each other.

You two promised to stay by each other's side.

But you broke your promise.

When they handed him the necklace he gave you he knew his world had come to an end.

He left far away to let out his anger. He burnt everything that was at his reach and stood there surrounded by the flames. His tears were falling nonstop from all the pain he was feeling.

After the funeral, still in his suit, he sat alone at home looking up at the ceiling. The tears hadn't stopped falling and he got to a point where he wasn't going to try to stop them. There was a knock on his door, Shoto stood up and wiped his tears. It was the number one hero, Deku.

"Hey Shoto. I came to check on you." He greets softly, noticing his tear-stained face.

Todoroki looks down and sighs, "I don't know what I'm going to do Midoriya. I tell myself it's just a sick nightmare, but I don't wake up from it." he says with a frustrated voice on the last part and grips his hair.

Midoriya quickly reaches to calm him down, "Shoto please it's going to be ok" he soothes him. "(Y/N) still loves you"

At that Shoto realizes that he's right. The memory of you saying "I will always love you Shoto" came to his mind and he wiped his tears.

He pulls away from Deku, "Thank you Midoriya" he looks in his eyes and smiles softly at him. "I needed to hear that." They smile softly and say their goodbyes.

Shoto pulls out your necklace from his pocket and stares at it for a bit. He then wraps the necklace around his right wrist and one year later he still keeps your necklace around his wrist.

He keeps a small room in his mansion to keep your memory. He goes in to pray for you like every night and smiles when he sees your picture.

You're not gone, you're still with him. In your pictures, in his memories and in your necklace he keeps with him. And he still loves you very much. He still yearns to make you proud and somehow, he knows you are.

💔Eijiro Kirishima

Kirishima continues to love you so much. He realized that your death wasn't something he should cry over so much. He's pretty sure you're happier, healthier, and safer wherever you are, and he loves that. He knows you're watching over him. He was heartbroken over your death and did go through the stages of grief but that helped him come out of it stronger.

So, when he woke up on the day of your death, he felt more motivated than ever to help others from losing their loved ones. That's what he did. Red Riot truly is an amazing hero.

At his meet and greet today, he stepped up on the podium to give a speech and honored you:

"Hello everyone, I'm so excited to meet you all and I know (Y/H/N) would've been happy to meet all of you too. By now I'm sure you know my beautiful, smart, funny, and strong partner in crime died fighting for us one year ago today."

he pauses and the fans nod, some of them even getting emotional too. Red Riot clears his throat:

"(Y/H/N) was the first person in my life who was taken from me. It hurt so much. Which is why I will fight my hardest for you guys. To make sure none of you grow through what I'm going through any time soon!"

he preaches and the fans start cheering for him.

He signed autographs and shirts and made sure his fans knew how much they meant to him and you. Some of the fans even brought flowers in honor of you and Kirishima gladly took them.

That evening when he was done for the day, he decided to visit your grave. He bought some snacks for himself and took the flowers the fans had gifted you.

Upon arriving, he smiled softly looking at your name on your tombstone. "Hey baby" he said softly. He placed the flowers down "These are from our fans sweetheart. I hope you like them." then he sat down by your side.

He begins to eat his snacks and talks quietly to you. He tells you about how the meet and greet went and how he still misses you so much.

A few tears fall but he's ok.

A soft breeze hits his skin, and he smiles softly enjoying it, knowing it's you.

[ukiyowi]

𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐒𝐔𝐒 (𝟑𝟔𝟕𝟏)

𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Dionysus is the Greek god of wine and festivities and has the power of driving mortals insane. In my opinions, wherever this asteroid is in your chart can show how you are when intoxicated/drunk

Note: My observations, if you don't relate Move. Check out my tarot PACs and paid readings of you're interested!

Masterlist || Paid Readings || Tip Jar

⌂ Houses

𐃯 1st: Loud and the life of the party, want all eyes on you, may become the centre of attention, may start getting into drinking competitions at parties, may become a little annoying to some people because they can become a little egotistical and start bragging about themselves, they also love talking about themselves when drunk.

𐃯 2nd: Possessive, they may become a little passive and isolate themselves in a corner, there's a tendency that they can get a little sleepy or tired as well. May not want to socialise at all and may want to leave the party early or if they're alone, will call it a day and do the irish goodbye, could also end up accidentally buying things (me lol).

𐃯 3rd: My cousin has this placement and she gets so chatty when she's intoxicated, she will go on long never ending rants about any topic under the sun. May get really giggly and flirty, at times may even gossip quite a bit about others, love meeting new people and socialising especially at parties.

𐃯 4th: Can get a little scattered and get very emotional, a little bit of a crier and all their emotions get amplified, big laughs, big cries, just feel everything all at once. You can become very appreciative of your friends and can become a little lovey-dovey as well as clingy.

𐃯 5th: So much fun, larger than life energy, they kind of become the host, will talk to everyone, mingle, the type to be in the middle of a dance circle and absolutely kill it. May become dramatic but it's humorous and playful, may also talk/think about their plans for their future in regards to their family life when intoxicated.

𐃯 6th: Can become a little cranky and irritable over small things, can feel uncomfortable so they may not drink or indulge in general, the type to be the mom friend even and may like taking care of others even when they need to more, helpful, compliments flow easier but they can also become a little candid with their speech (a little mean).

𐃯 7th: My friend has this and they do start thinking about their past relationships and ranting about their exes, also the kind to dial their exes but overall so much fun, they love to tease others, and can get really creative when intoxicated, especially when it comes to aesthetics. Also make friends so easily holy shit it's insane, need to teach me how!

𐃯 8th: May like playing games related to gambling to be honest, they'll not be very different from how they usually are and may have a high tolerance, seem calm and composed, can make impulsive monetary decisions as well. Can come off as a bit intense when drunk, emotionally like in a good way they may make big emotional decisions too like telling someone they love them romantically.

𐃯 9th: They start talking about life and existence and very philosophical topics, I've met some people with this sign who get really political and at times get kind of pushy about their views and opinions. Fun to talk to if you want to know their opinions on life and what it means, can get sleepy quite fast frankly speaking.

𐃯 10th: Emotional, can become a little demanding and authoritative, ordering people around low-key. Can be kind of a party pooper because I see 10th house Dionysus as people who can get a little angry/aggressive when drunk and also a little selfish, for example if they're at a party with their friends they won't let them talk to other people or something along those lines.

𐃯 11th: Honestly my personal faves, they're so creative and the ideas they have are brilliant, they would probably love talking about stuff related to the science fiction or fiction in general. They get extremely social and are the type of people who would get a lot of numbers if they want, would also make a lot of new friends, they may get cold easily when drunk/intoxicated too.

𐃯 12th: Get kind of lost in their own world, they unintentionally ignore people because of how consumed they are with their own thoughts, can get really silent and passive, and may get very distracted and sort of unaware of their surroundings, bumping into things unintentionally and stuff like that, maybe daydreaming a lot.

All rights reserved Ukiyowi. Do not copy, reword, plagiarise my content!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

God, Rest Ye Merry

Warnings: kidnap and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You're sick and you don't think things can get much worse until they do.

Character: God the Bounty Hunter

Day Twenty-Four of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt -i'm too sick to go anywhere!

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s the happiest time of year and you couldn’t be more miserable. Your head is pounding, your nose is stuff, lips cracked from having to breathe through your mouth, and you just want to go to sleep and never wake up. Still, your body is too addled with the flu to allow you that peace. 

Watching the snow through the window, you dig deep down to find the strength to go out. You shudder as you hook a mask over your ears and bend the wire across your nose. As much as you’d love to share the cheer, you’re not that type of person. 

You take your reusable bag and your keys and set out. You pull your hood up as you emerge into the white swirl. The fur around the edge blocks out your peripherals and before you is an endless sprawl, untouched by shovel or plow. It isn’t far to the pharmacy; across the street and down the next corner. 

You trudge through towards the prize of more cough drops and possibly some vitamin C. You’ve gone through most of your supplies, not having bothered to replenish since the last time you had a cold. You’ve been lucky for so long that it has to be absolutely horrid this time. 

You kick through the drifts. The snow is getting deeper by the minute. Some might relish the festive fall but you’re not into it. Thankfully, you’re staying in for the holidays. Not that you have much choice with this chesty cough. 

The snow dampens the sound and you slow as you come in sight of the pharmacy. The silence is eerily still despite the winds sweeping the flakes over the blanketed ground. You dust the snow from your hood and pivot to see around you. You’re the only one desperate enough to be out on Christmas Eve, aside from the poor retail employees sentenced to work in purgatory for those last-minute sales. 

You press on and enter the pharmacy with the jangle of the bell above. You do your best to kick the snow off before you cross the threshold. You pass the shelves of Hallmark cards and wrapping paper and pull your hood down. You read the hanging signs of the aisle and drag your treads towards the cough and cold section. 

As you turn down that aisle, the bell on the door rings again. Strange, you didn’t see anyone on the street. It could be someone who works down the next street or someone brave enough to drive in this. You stop before the shelves of cough drops and get the extra menthol. You might try the vapour rub too. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some electrolytes too. 

You spend a bit more than you should on your haul but at this point, you’d sell yourself for some relief. You bring it all to the counter as another pair of footsteps softly trace the rows behind you. You pay and the girl behind the till puts it all in a paper bag. You choke back a cough and thank her. 

You pull your hood up in expectation of your delve back into the elements and hug the bag to your chest. Your head slumps as the short walk back seems a Tolkien-ish trek in your condition. You push through the door with your shoulder and slow as you step into the calf-deep downfall. 

You get about halfway down the street. You’re panting as your legs ache and your chest thrums. You look ahead of you as the soft crush of snow comes from behind you. You blink as your head pulses and you turn slowly as you try to see past your furry hood. 

Not fast enough. The snow cushions your fall as you’re thrown into the piles. Your bag falls out of your arms as you murmur and fight weakly against the powder and your own weakness. Your struggle is short and pathetic as the white fades to black, the world and all your agony with it. 

💝

You cough yourself awake. Your throat feels as if it’s lined with shards of glass. You groan and chatter as a chill washes over you. Your arms are heavy as you drag them up to hug yourself in an effort to ward off the cold. 

There’s a tug on your wrist as you do. Your lashes flutter and your head lolls as you raise your hand shakily. The leather cuff below your hand blurs in your hazy vision. You pull again, the resistance enough to deter you. What is that? 

You cough and use your other hand to wipe your nose. What’s going on? What happened to you? You just wanted some relief and now... 

You remember falling. Did you trip? No, something knocked you over. You’re sure of it.  

You wince and force your eyes open, even as they ache. You peer around the dim space. You lay on a thin mattress on a metal frame. There are two pillows, one under your head, another beside you, a grey duvet over you, and that cuff on your wrist. You lift your hand again and examine the chain attached to it. It trails over the edge. 

What the fuck? You’re too sick to even think about trying to get it off. Your eyes scan the shadowy walls, your scalp slaked in cold sweat, and you shiver again. There’s an electric heater glowing orange like the doorway to hell in the corner of the room, and a folding table shrouded in the dim. 

All this because you wanted some cough drops. You shake your head, sending another echo of heaviness through it. You whimper and try to touch your temple, the attempt drawn short by the restraint. 

“What’s wrong with you?” The voice is like gravel. 

You flinch and lift your head, searching the room. Something shifts in the corner and the figure steps closer, his silhouette just discernible against the dark. You scoff and send yourself into a hacking fit. What a stupid question. 

“I’m... sick,” you rasp. 

He’s silent. He moves around as you try to see him clearer. He goes to the table, still nothing more than a fuzzy blob to you. Something crinkles as he bends and he hauls up the paper bag onto it. He peels open the tear in its side. 

He turns and hesitates. He comes around the foot of the bed and the heater gives light to his features. You see him clearer as the single metal lamp next to you illuminates him completely. His features are sharp and stony, his expression emotionless. He holds out the pack of cough drops, almost cluelessly. 

“Will this help?” 

You frown. You sigh but it catches in your scratchy throat. You reach for the lozenges. He lets you take them. He watches you tear open the package and then unwrap one of the drops. You shove it in your mouth and groan. 

“Do you feel better?” He asks. 

You squint at him, “not really. They’re just menthol... for my throat.” 

“Oh.” 

What’s wrong with him? Hasn't he ever had a cold? Bigger question, why did he bring you here? 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says as if he can read your mind. You can’t help but show your discomfort. “I could but I won’t.” 

You frown at him. Did he have to say that? 

“You’re sick.” 

You nod. 

“And alone.” 

You don’t move. 

“My family--” 

“You said you couldn’t go this year. Too expensive to take the train.” 

You snap your teeth shut. How does he know that? You look down at your wrist. He does too. 

“It’s for safety,” he explains but that doesn’t make sense to you. 

“Why...” you begin the question but can’t decide which one would get the right answers. Probably none of them. 

“Take another,” he points to the cough drops. You’re still sucking on the other one. You shake your head and drop the pack on the blanket.

“Won’t help,” you croak. 

He blinks and his blue eyes round, “what will?” 

You just stare at him. You’re half-sure this is a demented fever dream and you’re currently face down in the snow, slowly sinking into hypothermic delusions. He twists on his heel and marches away. He grabs the bag, cradling it to keep the contents inside, and you brace yourself as he comes back your way. 

He puts it on the bed and sifts through. He holds up the large bottle of orange electrolytes. “It’s for babies.” 

You push your elbows into the bed and sit up. He shifts closer. “You should relax.” 

“I can’t,” you say hoarsely and reach for the bottle. “Elecrolytes. Help...” 

“Keep you hydrated,” he finishes. “Makes sense. What else?” 

He reaches inside and takes out the vapour rub. He examines the tin. He untwists the lid and gives it a deep sniff that makes his eyes water. 

“Stinky.” 

“Here,” you reach for it but he keeps it away from you as he reads the tiny writing on it. “Spread across chest...” he mutters as he reads then his eyes flick to you, “take your shirt off.” 

“What?” You exclaim then cover your mouth as you cough yourself halfway into oblivion. 

“I’ll put it on for you. Like it says.” 

“I can do it...” your voice crackles. 

You don’t have time you react as he reaches for you. He shoves the blanket down then tugs on your sweatshirt, drenched in your feverish excess. You squeak but can’t resist him. He strips it over your head as you writhe helplessly. 

You cross your arms over your bra as he pushes his fingers into the menthol rub. As he extends his hand towards you, you shy away. You crush the pillow as he presses his fingertips to your skin and smears the cream over your skin. Your heart is pounding. 

“You shouldn’t be afraid,” he says as his touch lingers and he brings his hand down to feel your heartbeat. “I’m taking care of you.” 

You furrow your brow and stare at him, in confusion, in horror. You have no idea who he is or what he wants, at this point, you’re rooting for the flu to win. He slowly peels away his hand and caps the tin. He turns and searches around, dissipating back into the shadows. 

He re-emerges as he wipes his fingers. He watches you from the foot of the bed as you grab your sweatshirt and pull it back on. He grips the two fingers he used to apply the cream and twists his fist around them and the cloth. 

“Are you better now?” He asks. 

You close your eyes and sink back into the bed. You can’t. You don’t have the energy for this. 

“Not yet.” 

“Oh...” he utters as he looms still. “Well, when you are, let me know.” 

You snort. The way he speaks, the way he just stares, it’s like he’s missing something. It’s just as scary as the cuff on your arm. 

You open one eye and find him still there, watching. 

“God.” He says. You open your other eye and tilt your head.  

“God?” You repeat. 

“That’s me.” 

You drop your head again and exhale. Right, so, maybe you are dead. 

[lovelytsunoda]

don't go breaking my heart // lance stroll

soft moments stolen between wedding and reception

weddings are joyous and festive, but can be stressful for introverts like lance and his wife. so when they were able to steal some moments with each other in the peace of his aston martin between the ceremony and the venue, they know these are the moments they will treasure the most from that day.

pairing: lance stroll x newlywed reader

warnings: just fluff, a minor minor allusion to sex.

author's note: i have no idea why i have written so many wedding things for this man, but i think it's because he is the raw definition of husband material. thank you and good night lmao.

“don’t go breaking my heart…I couldn’t if I tried”

elton john and kiki dee crooned over the speakers as lances aston martin drove through the quebec countryside. it was a quiet night, stars high in the sky as he ran his thumb over his wife’s thigh.

“I love you.” he hummed, daring to look over at the love of his life as he took a corner too fast. “my darling darling wife.”

she smiled, meeting his gaze. “eyes on the road, handsome. you’ve got the rest of your life to stare at me. I love you too.”

the wedding had felt like a blur, maybe because of how wired they both felt. it should have been a smaller ceremony, in all hindsight considered.

it was an odd thing: you want to celebrate your love around all these people, but then the day arrives and suddenly you feel anxious at letting them see you pledge your heart to another.

lance and y/n had always been the quiet, soft couple. the one evoking ‘awe’s and heart eyes from the groups around them. they knew each other like the backs of their hands, better than any track map or textbook.

“enjoy the quiet while it lasts.” she hummed, nimble fingers gently easing the pins for her white lace veil out of her hair. “is it bad that I’m dreading my own reception?”

lance laughed. "nope. because i am, too. i know it's all about us and all that, but i hate being the center of attention. i would have rather had a dinner party."

she snorted. "technically this is really just a rather large dinner party."

"i mean, there's food and wine, you picked a damn good throwback playlist. dinner party." lance shrugged, taking his foot off the gas, headlights illuminating the empty road ahead.

lance had decided to take the scenic route, savoring this moment alone, this little bit of calm before the storm. before the party, the noise, the people.

just him and his wife, falling a little bit more in love with each other every day.

"if scotty throws his back out dancing to 'suicide blonde', i'm not fucking helping." y/n laughed, reaching for the stereo to flip to the offending inxs song. "i still cannot believe that this song was about kylie fucking minogue."

"there's a reason we invested in the mocktail bar."

"you know most of the guys have flasks hidden in their suit jackets, right?"

she would have preferred something low key, but her family had wanted the big party. it wasn't all bad. she got to pick the food (pasta bar, anybody?), the drinks, the decorations, the music. she'd made a throwback playlist of all her favorite happy songs, all the ones that made her feel alive, giddy and in love, ranging from inxs to def leppard to kesha.

she'd waited twenty-five years for this moment, so why was she suddenly getting this bad feeling about going to the party that followed?

the event venue slowly came into view over the distance, the white brick building with it's pillars and vintage charm, the walkway to the door lit up with fairy lights. the small parking lot was already almost full, the rest of the guests waiting inside for the happy couple. lance parked his car furthest from the door, but kept the engine running.

he took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "we can turn around and drive away." he was dead serious when he looked over at her. "i'm serious, we can run and go get burgers and milkshakes and see a movie and then go back to the hotel and not sleep a minute because we are too busy having the goofiest, most romantic sex of our lives. i just want you to be comfortable."

"i know. and that's why i love you so much, lance." she sighed, a smile blooming on her face. "but our friends are in there. our parents are in there. hell, your dad is probably trying to sell my dad on buying a time share villa in biarritz."

lance laughed, leaning over the center console to kiss her forehead. "whenever you want to leave, you just tell me. if you need a minute to yourself, just shoot me a text message and i'll come and find you. or don't, if you just want a walk in total solitude. i'll probably need one of those at some point, too."

"i knew there was a reason i married you." she joked, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. "i love you to the moon and back, lance."

"you wanna go inside?"

"we might as well."

lance took his seatbelt off, shutting off the car and sliding out of the driver's door. her dramatically slid across the hood, earning a laugh from his wife as he skipped towards her door, opening it for her before extending a hand for her to take.

"beautiful girl, love of my life, may i help you out of this shockingly low car?"

she laughed, slipping one of her hands into his warm one. "yes, my beautiful husband. yes, you may."

she stepped out of the car, the hem of her white silk dress dusting the gravel in the parking lot. a breeze ran through the area, making the hair on the backs of her arms stand up.

"love, you're shivering." lance said softly, slipping out of his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she put her arms through the sleeves, wrapping her arms fully around her husband. "i love you."

"i love you, too." she took a minute to stand there, her nose in his dress shirt, breathing in his cologne. bath and body works, today. she liked that. something playful and romantic instead of the heavy, stinging designer scents he usually wore.

"we should go inside." he whispered, their bodies swaying together in the silence, her skin warm against his.

"or we could stay out here just a little longer."

and who was he to argue with that?

"you get five more minutes. i'm starting to get hungry and the pasta bar has my name written all over it."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @diorleclerc @httpiastri @silverstonesainz @lorarri @twinkodium

[fangirlfrom-hell]

"My daddy has to fight some bad guys". || Jay Halstead x reader and daughter

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

You woke up earlier than everybody in your house to get everything ready for everyone. Jay would usually follow you a few minutes later and you two would make breakfast and get your daughter ready for school together, along with other morning stuff. This wasn't the day, your husband had fallen asleep and you were doing everything by yourself, trying not to make a lot of noise. You knew he was working a tough case and had come back quite late from work the night before, so you didn't want to wake him up. Even when he didn't want to admit it, he was tired as hell and needed to rest.

You were in the kitchen starting to cook breakfast when you felt his arms hugging you from the back.

-"Did I wake you up?" You asked. -"I was trying not to".

-"I didn't feel you by my side and I couldn't fall asleep again". He answered into your ear and then kissed your neck as he continued talking. -"I'm sorry I haven't been around. We closed this case last night, what's left is a bunch of paperwork. My hope is to be back home early tonight and...". You turned around to hug him back and interrupted him with a short kiss. He rushed to finish his sentence with a heavy breathing : "...I can make it up for you", then proceeded to tenderly kiss your lips as he held you as tight as he could with one of his arms, while fervently holding your head with his other hand, finger all tangled in your hair, pulling it a bit.

Due to the case Jay was working on, you two had barely seen each other during the last week and a half, so things were heating up fast. Suddenly, for both of your displeasure, an alarm interrupted the moment.

-"Time to wake her up". You said having trouble separating from him.

-"I'll go". Jay took your phone to turn off the alarm. -"I'm driving her to school too".

-"Hey, Jay!" You took his hand before letting him leave the room. -"You do remember her Father's Day Festival, right?".

-"Next friday, 10:30, sure".

-"I was thinking...maybe you should talk to her and explain that...of course you will be there, but if you are not able to make it is due to your work".

-"But I will be there".

-"I know, I know, it's just...we never know when a case might pop up. Remember the Spring Festival?".

-"Oh. The bank robbery right before it...".

-"Yes, that's what I mean. That time was easy because I was there, but this time I won't...".

-"I will talk to her". He said after a few seconds of silence. -"But I'll be there, no matter what".

That day, Tessa and her class made a craft for their fathers. All the little kids were drawing in a small paper square that would become a keychain for Father's Day. Some of them were drawing hearts, others were doing stick figures. Tessa drew her dad carrying her over his shoulders and a bunch of hearts around. Her artwork was a little abstract, but understandable for a 5 year old.

-"All right". Ms. Luna said in a sweet voice. Tessa really loved her teacher. -"I am going to take your drawings and we will give them back to our dads as a key chain during the festival!".

-"My daddy said he will come, but he's working and if he doesn't show up it is because he has to fight some bad guys. Bad guys don't respect days or time". Tessa rushed to repeat what Jay tried to explain to her earlier in the morning when he was taking her to school.

-"It's ok". Her teacher laughed a bit. -"Sometimes parents can't make it and it's ok. That doesn't mean they don't want to or that they don't love us".

The class rehearsed the song they would sing at intervals throughout the rest of the day. Tessa never missed the opportunity to repeat the information going around her head: "My dad said he's coming, but if he's not here it means he's working" or "My daddy is fighting the bad guys and bad guys they don't respect days or time" or "He will be here, but if he's not here, that means he's on the streets. He makes Chicago safe". Her friends were amazed whenever she repeated those statements. She did understand what her father told her, but she didn't really comprehend.

The day was here. You dropped Tessa at school, she was all excited. Before she entered the building you reminded her: "If it happens that daddy is not here or he's late, remember he's fighting the bad guys".

Jay was already in the bullpen, everything was strangely calmed. He had talked with Voight about going out to Tessa's school and he gladly agreed.

-"Today is the day isn't it?" Hailey asked Jay as she entered the coffee room.

-"Yeah". He smirked. -"If nothing else intervenes".

-"Let's stay positive". She said remembering what had happened last Spring Festival.

It was 8:30, the day had just started when Trudy came upstairs with an urgent case.

-"That's just my luck". Jay said, rushing downstairs with his partner.

-"Let's try to make it quick". Hailey answered by putting on her coat.

At school, the kids were getting ready to go outside to start the festival. Parents were gathering outside of the building, waiting to get inside.

Students from all schools were lining up around the court. Their parents were supposed to meet them and be in front of their kid's group to hear them sing.

-"Is your dad here?" One of Tessa's friends asked.

-"I can't see him". She answered standing on tiptoe. -"But it's ok, it's because he had to fight the bad guys".

All the kids waved their fathers with excitement, some of them ran to hug them before starting the show. Jay didn't make it, but Tessa wasn't feeling bad about it...yet.

When the song finished, all the kids jumped into their fathers arms and gave them the craft they made in class as a gift for them. Tessa stood in her place, not being able to hold her tears. She was crying in silence, so between the noise and excitement around the little girl, nobody noticed her until a few minutes later. As soon as her teacher saw her, she ran towards her and hugged her tight.

-"It's ok, honey. It's ok. Your dad wanted to be here with you". She said in a very sweet and calmed voice. -"Remember he is fighting the bad guys, you said that before ''.

Some parents were moved watching the scene, but there was nothing they could do. Ms. Johnson, the school's principal, noticed the situation from afar and she joined as soon as she could. By only moving her lips, trying not to be heard, she asked Tessa's teacher if the little girl's father wasn't there. She shaked her head in disapproval when the teacher answered with a sorry face.

-"We can call your dad, Tess. That way you can hear his voice".

-"But, Ms. Johnson, he's fighting the bad guys". Ms. Luna intervened.

-"Oh!" She understood. -"Ok, but we can call him later, we'll tell him to come so you can give him your present. Would you like that?".

The little girl was an emotional mess, but agreed with her head, even though she wasn't really listening to what the adults were saying.

The emergency call for the intelligence team ended up in a shooting and that delayed detective Halstead. As soon as he finished with interviews and all the bureaucracy after this kind of situation, he ran off.

-"Go, go, go". Hailey rushed. -"I cover you".

Jay drove his truck as fast as he could, siren on. It wasn't a police emergency, but it was an emergency after all, he could deal with the consequences later. He parked in the first spot he found, even if it wasn't merely in front of the school and ran as fast as he could in a police mode to get to his baby girl. It was until he entered the building that he noticed he was still wearing the vest, gun and badge on his hip, but didn't care.

-"There he is!" Ms. Johnson pointed to Tessa's father.

-"Come on! Come on!" Ms. Luna took the little girl's hand and started running towards her dad.

-"I'm so sorry". Jay took Tessa in his arms and carried her holding her as tight as he could. She was too emotionally drained to react.

Kids around were already saying goodbye to their parents, going back to their classrooms.

-"We'll give you some time alone". Ms. Johnson informed Jay and he muttered a "thank you".

-"You can go back to the classroom when you feel ready". Ms. Luna told her student.

-"I hate the bad guys". Tessa managed to say when they were finally alone.

-"Me too". Her father said. -"I'm really, really sorry I didn't hear you sing, but I'm here right now". He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

-"I did it real good, you missed it". She said playing with the key chain in her hands.

-"I bet you did". Jay chuckled. -"What do you have there?".

-"It's a present for you. I made it for you". She extended her short arm to give it to her dad.

-"For me? Is it for my keys? I love it!"

-"It's you and me and lots of hearts. I drew it myself".

-"I can see that. It's beautiful. Thank you, sweetie". Jay's phone started ringing and he sighed when he read the text messages.

-"I have to go back to work".

-"But I don't want you to go". She started crying again.

Ms. Johnson came into the scene to help Tessa go back to her class" -"Daddy has to go back to work, sweetie. Ms. Luna and your friends are waiting for you, let's go". And she took her tenderly in her arms as her crying grew louder.

-"It's all right". Jay reassured her with a kiss. -"I love you. I'll see you at home, ok?". And she disappeared through the door.

He peeked through the classroom window to check on her before departing. He witnessed how Ms. Luna was successfully calming her down and felt a little bit more relaxed to go.

-"Thank you for coming". Ms. Johnson told him with a smile. -"For real".

With a heavy heart, he got into his truck and before turning it on, he hung the keychain in his keys. He inspected the tiny drawing and smiled before going back to the bullpen.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a ♡, comment or share. 😌♡

[longreads]

Fast Times on America’s Slowest Train

In our latest feature—a buddy comedy on the rails—Harrison Scott Key delights in a slow, boozy train ride, along with a friend.

I wanted to write stories. Mark wanted to live them. I’ve never stopped seeking achievement and he’s never stopped seeking places to go, the Peter Pan to my Wendy. He even married a flight attendant, mostly for love, but also for the free plane tickets that allow him to join me for book festivals, readings, talks, and conferences across the nation. If I’ve got a king mattress booked, paid for by someone else, Mark’s there. He flies standby and always shows.

[baekguuuuu]

The Way I Loved You

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Angst, Romance

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s The Way I Loved You. Through flashbacks and present-day reflections, you navigate the highs and lows of both relationships, ultimately confronting what your heart truly wants. A story of passion, longing, and self-discovery, this is a journey of realizing that sometimes, the love that burns the brightest is the one that leaves you scorched.

I met Baekhyun during a summer that I still replay in my mind sometimes, like a sun-drenched film reel I can’t bring myself to burn. It was at a music festival where he’d performed with his band. I wasn’t supposed to be there—my friends had dragged me along, insisting it would be fun that I needed to live a little.

“You’ll love it,” my best friend had said, nudging me toward the front of the crowd as Baekhyun’s band took the stage. She was wrong, though. I didn’t love it.

I fell.

Baekhyun had this way of commanding attention, his voice like honey dripping into the sunlight, thick and golden and impossible to resist. But it wasn’t just his voice; it was the way his eyes sparkled with mischief when he cracked a joke between songs and the way he laughed like the world existed just to amuse him. He was magnetic, and I was the iron.

After the set, I found myself backstage with my friends, courtesy of one’s VIP connections. Baekhyun spotted me immediately as if I’d been glowing in the dark. “Hey,” he said, his voice still hoarse from singing. “Enjoy the show?”

I should’ve played it cool. Instead, I blurted, “You were incredible.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “What’s your name?”

Our relationship was a whirlwind, a thrilling ride on the back of his motorcycle, the city lights blurring into a tapestry of excitement. Baekhyun was unlike anyone I’d ever met, a mix of chaos and charm wrapped in leather jackets and calloused fingertips. He made me feel alive in ways that both scared and thrilled me.

We fell fast and hard, like a meteor streaking across the sky—brilliant, unforgettable, and destined to burn out. But I didn’t know that then. All I knew was the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world, the way he made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe, the way he kissed me like it was the only thing that mattered.

Being with Baekhyun was like living in a whirlwind. It was thrilling, unpredictable, and chaotic—sometimes in ways that left me breathless and other times in ways that made my chest ache. We burned bright, but bright flames have a way of leaving marks.

It wasn’t always chaos with Baekhyun. He had a way of being so disarmingly sweet, of pulling me into his world with a smile or a glance. I still remember the night he taught me to play the piano.

We were at his apartment, a modest space cluttered with sheet music and half-empty coffee mugs. He pulled me toward the small upright piano tucked against the wall, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

“Come here,” he said, patting the bench beside him. “I’m going to teach you something.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I can barely manage using chopsticks. What makes you think I can learn anything else?”

“Because I’m the best teacher,” he said with mock arrogance, his fingers playing a gentle melody that made my heart skip. “And because I believe in you.”

His words made my cheeks flush, but I sat beside him, letting him place my hands on the keys. His touch was warm, guiding my fingers with patient precision. Every time I fumbled, he’d laugh softly, his voice like a soothing balm.

“You’re getting it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with pride as I managed a simple tune.

When I finally got it right, he turned to me, his face just inches from mine. “See? You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice low and earnest.

At that moment, the world outside faded away. It was just Baekhyun and me, the music lingering in the air like a promise. And when he leaned in to kiss me, his lips soft and full of affection, I knew I was falling—fast and hard.

It started with the little things. His tendency to cancel plans at the last minute because something more exciting came up. The way he could be so charming with everyone but distant when it was just us. I told myself it was just how he was, that he didn’t mean to hurt me. And when he apologized, when he pulled me close and whispered how much I meant to him, I believed him every time.

I remembered being at a party, one of those gatherings in which Baekhyun always thrived. He stood at the center of the living room, laughing effortlessly, his charm magnetic as everyone gravitated toward him. The way he commanded attention was almost unfair—effortless, natural, like he was born to shine under every light in the room.

I watched him from the couch, holding a half-empty glass of wine and trying not to let the pang of loneliness creep up on me. Baekhyun threw his head back at something someone said, his laugh lighting up the room, and for a moment, I felt that familiar tug in my chest. He was breathtaking like this—untouchable and dazzling.

But then his eyes flickered to me. Just for a second. And instead of warmth or an invitation, there was... nothing.

“Hey,” I called softly when he finally made his way over, his drink in hand. “You having fun?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” he said, his voice distant. His gaze darted around the room, already looking for his next conversation.

“Baekhyun,” I said, reaching for his arm. “Can we talk for a second?”

He frowned, pulling his arm back like my touch burned him. “Now? Can’t it wait? Everyone’s here—I don’t want to kill the mood.”

Everyone was there. The words hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

“It’s just... you’ve barely talked to me all night,” I murmured, keeping my voice low.

His eyes softened, but only briefly. “I’m sorry. You know how I get at these things. I’ll come find you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Later.”

But later never came.

I stayed on the couch, watching him charm the room while feeling more invisible than I ever had. He apologized the next day, and the cycle continued.

The apologies became too frequent, and the moments of closeness felt like borrowed time.

“You said you’d be there, Baekhyun,” I said, my voice trembling as I clutched my phone.

“I forgot, okay?” he replied, his tone dismissive, like forgetting my graduation ceremony for getting my Master’s was no big deal.

“You forgot?” My laugh was bitter. “Do you know how embarrassing it was, standing there alone while everyone else had their families and friends?”

“I didn’t ask you to rely on me for everything!” he shot back.

The line went quiet as I stared at my reflection in the window, his words slicing through me like a blade. Rely on him? Wasn’t that what people in love were supposed to do?

For all the chaos that came with loving Baekhyun, there were moments that made me feel like I was the only person in the world. Like the time he surprised me with a late-night picnic under the stars because I’d mentioned missing the quiet of my childhood summers. Or how he’d rest his head in my lap and trace invisible patterns on my skin, murmuring about how lucky he was to have me.

He had this way of making me feel seen, as though I wasn’t just someone he loved, but someone he adored. Someone he respected. With Baekhyun, it wasn’t just about passion—it was about the way he’d hold my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, or how he’d kiss my forehead as if sealing a promise only he could understand.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispered breathlessly as I lay beneath him. He collapsed on top of me, our bare chests touching against one another as we both caught our breaths after expressing love through actions.

He made me feel like a real woman, like I was more than just his girlfriend. Like I was his muse, his equal, and his refuge all at once. And in those moments, I forgot about the fights, the letdowns, the parts of him that hurt me. Because in the way he loved me, I felt whole.

But it wasn’t just the fights. It was the in-betweens. The way he’d light up a room, captivating everyone, only for me to realize I was standing in the shadows. The way he’d make promises that felt so solid in the moment but crumbled under the weight of his restless energy. The way he’d kiss me like I was his whole world, only to turn around and leave me wondering where I stood.

Then came the night that ended it all.

We were standing in the rain, arguing over something I couldn’t even remember now. His face was a mix of frustration and sadness as raindrops traced his sharp features. “Why can’t you just trust me?” he yelled, his voice carrying over the downpour.

“Trust you?” I shot back, my voice cracking. “You disappear for hours, break promises, and you expect me to trust you? You can’t keep doing this, Baekhyun!”

“I’m trying!” he shouted, stepping closer. “I’m trying to be better for you, but it’s never enough, is it?”

I could feel the tears mixing with the rain as I whispered, “I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like I’m not always chasing after you, trying to catch up.”

His silence said more than any words could. And that was the moment I knew. We loved each other but weren’t enough to make it work. Not then.

Although Baekhyun did try to fix it—us… however, it was too late then.

It had been two weeks since we broke up, but Baekhyun still called—persistent, unrelenting, just like the way he loved.

When I answered, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Can we talk?”

I hesitated. “Baekhyun, we’ve said everything already. There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“No,” he cut me off, his tone firm. “You talked, and I listened. Now it’s my turn.”

Reluctantly, I agreed to meet him at the café where we used to spend lazy Sunday afternoons. When I arrived, he was already there, sitting by the window with two cups of coffee on the table. He looked up, his expression a mixture of hope and fear, and for a brief moment, my heart clenched.

“I know I messed up,” he began the moment I sat down. “And I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to give me another chance.”

I stared at him, trying to find the anger, the bitterness, anything that would drown out the faint longing I felt just being near him. “Baekhyun, we didn’t work. You know that.”

“I can change,” he said, leaning closer. “I will change. I’ll prove it to you, I swear. Just don’t give up on us.”

I shook my head, my voice trembling. “It’s not just about you needing to change. It’s about me, too. I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough for you, like I have to keep chasing you to stay in this relationship. It hurts too much.”

His eyes softened, and he reached for my hand, but I pulled away. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Tears stung my eyes, but I forced myself to stand. “I know. But love isn’t enough if we keep hurting each other.”

I left him sitting there, his hand still outstretched, and I didn’t look back.

It wasn’t the last time I saw Baekhyun.

It happened on a crisp evening outside the cozy bistro Chanyeol had picked for dinner. The warm light from the restaurant spilled onto the sidewalk as we stepped out, laughter lingering between us. Chanyeol had his arm around me, casual and protective, as we talked about the movie we planned to watch next.

Then I saw him.

Baekhyun was leaning against his motorcycle, his leather jacket slightly unzipped, revealing a hoodie underneath. His helmet dangled from his fingers, and his eyes, dark and searching, found mine almost instantly.

I froze, my breath catching. He didn’t move closer, didn’t call my name. He simply stood there, his gaze flickering briefly to Chanyeol and back to me.

“Do you know him?” Chanyeol asked, his voice breaking through my trance.

“Yes,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... Baekhyun.”

Understanding dawned in Chanyeol’s eyes. “Do you want to—?”

“No,” I interrupted, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go.”

But as Chanyeol got his car keys from the valet, I found myself glancing back. Baekhyun was still there, watching us with a calmness that unnerved me.

Later that night, I texted him. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

His reply was immediate. “I didn’t come there to make a scene. I just wanted to see you. I’ll always want to see you.”

My hands trembled as I typed my next message, wanting to leave me alone as I was already with someone. “Chanyeol is everything you’re not. He’s steady, reliable, and perfect in every way.”

His response came after a long pause. “I know. But does he make you happy?”

I stared at the screen, the question echoing louder than I cared to admit.

For weeks after our breakup, Baekhyun had tried. He’d texted me late at night, asking if we could talk, only for me to leave him on read. He’d show up outside my building, waiting in the cold just to catch a glimpse of me, but I’d slip past him with my head down.

At first, I thought he’d never stop. That Baekhyun would always fight for us the way he used to fight for his music. But then, one day, he didn’t. The calls stopped. The texts stopped. The spaces where his presence used to linger felt hauntingly empty.

Chanyeol’s hand rested gently on mine as he drove us back to his place. The radio played softly in the background, something easy and inoffensive. He glanced at me, his smile warm and steady. “You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

“Long week, huh?” he said, squeezing my hand.

“Yeah,” I echoed, the word feeling heavy in my mouth. Long, but not in the way he thought.

Chanyeol was perfect. He was everything I thought I wanted. But lately, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing—or rather, someone.

I hated myself for it. For thinking of Baekhyun when Chanyeol was right there, being thoughtful and kind and everything Baekhyun never was. But the heart doesn’t care about logic, decency, or what’s fair. The heart wants what it wants, even when it’s the last thing you need.

Everything in my life was perfect, actually. From the immaculately arranged breakfast trays to the gentle good mornings that greeted me, nothing was ever out of place. Not him, not the way he loved me—kindly, patiently, like I was the most delicate thing in the world.

Chanyeol was different. Steady. Consistent. Reliable in ways Baekhyun never was. He’d show up on time, remember the little things, and genuinely listen when I spoke. He was warm and patient, a safe harbor in the storm that had been my life with Baekhyun.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he wrapped his arm behind me, placing a gentle kiss on my bare shoulder. The sunlight filtering through the curtains felt almost too perfect. 

I nodded, offering him a small smile. “I did. Thank you for asking.”

“You know, we could go for a picnic this weekend,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “The weather’s been lovely lately.”

That’s how it always was—planned, predictable, steady. And yet, I found myself drifting off, my mind wandering to a time when nothing about my life was steady. Back to a time when Baekhyun would show up unannounced, his motorcycle roaring in the distance, his grin wide and wild.

“Get on!” he’d yell, not even giving me time to protest. The wind whipping through my hair as we sped through the streets had been chaos—unrestrained, untamed, exhilarating chaos.

“Does that sound good?” Chanyeol’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“Sorry, what?” I asked, blinking at him.

He chuckled softly. “The picnic. This Saturday?”

“Oh. Yes, that sounds… nice.”

When we started dating, I thought I’d found what I’d been missing. He made me feel cared for, and valued in a way I’d longed for during my time with Baekhyun. My friends were ecstatic when I told them about Chanyeol. 

“He’s so perfect for you,” they’d say, their eyes glinting with approval. Even my parents, who were always wary of the guys I dated, took an instant liking to him. They adored his polite manners, his steady career, and the way he treated me with respect.

“He’s everything we could have hoped for you,” my mom had gushed over dinner one night, her smile so wide it hurt to look at.

But there was one thing he couldn’t do: he couldn’t make my heart race the way Baekhyun did.

It wasn’t fair to compare them, but my mind did it anyway. Chanyeol’s hugs were warm, but they didn’t leave me dizzy. His kisses were soft and sweet but didn’t set my skin on fire. His laughter was kind but didn’t echo in my chest like Baekhyun’s.

“You okay?” Chanyeol asked, noticing the faraway look in my eyes.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important,” I lied. How could I tell him what I was thinking about Baekhyun? How much did I miss the chaos, the fire, and the way he made me feel alive even when he was breaking my heart?

Chanyeol nudged my upper body so I could face him. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear; his thumb never left the skin of my cheek.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

The words from him should have made my heart soar. His voice was calm, steady, full of certainty—the kind I’d spent years craving. But instead of feeling weightless, I felt heavy, like every part of me was tied to something I couldn’t quite see.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my smile politely measured. He deserved that much. 

I knew very well that Chanyeol deserved someone who could give him more than vague responses and distant smiles—someone who could love him the way he loved me—with unwavering calm and clarity. But my heart, stupid and stubborn as it was, still ached for something else. Someone else.

It happened on a quiet afternoon. Chanyeol and I were at his apartment, sorting through takeout boxes while a soft playlist played in the background. He was humming along, his warm, familiar presence filling the room.

I should’ve been content. Happy, even. But as I watched him move around with practiced ease, I felt a strange hollowness creeping in—a sense that something essential was missing.

The second I turned my head, the ghost of Baekhyun’s laughter crashed into me like a wave. Loud. Chaotic. Carefree. And all at once, I was drowning again, swallowed whole by the memory of him.

The weight of my realization grew heavier with every passing day. Pretending that everything was fine with Chanyeol felt like suffocating under the mask I wore. I wanted to be fair to him, to not let my heart wander when he had done nothing but love me. But the truth was, I wasn’t entirely his, and I never had been.

It hit me one quiet evening while Chanyeol and I were watching a movie. He had his arm around me, his steady presence a comfort I knew I didn’t deserve.

I’d sworn I wanted stability, but stability felt like numbness. And as I sat there, nestled in Chanyeol’s embrace, I realized I didn’t feel anything close to what I used to feel for Baekhyun. Not even a shadow of it.

Chanyeol turned to me with a small smile as we sat on his couch. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

I hesitated, not knowing how to explain the chaos swirling in my head. “Just... thinking about life.”

“Anything specific?” he asked gently, his hand resting on mine.

And that’s when it hit me—how much I missed Baekhyun.

I missed his fire, his unpredictability, the way he could make me feel like I was the center of his chaotic universe. I missed how he could pull me into his orbit with just one look, how his laughter could chase away the darkest clouds. I missed him, even with all his flaws, because loving Baekhyun was like standing in the middle of a storm and feeling more alive than ever.

Chanyeol was perfect in every way, but he wasn’t Baekhyun. He couldn’t make my heart race or my world tilt on its axis. And I realized then, with painful clarity, that I was holding on to Chanyeol because he was safe, not because he was the one I wanted.

He deserved someone who could love him wholeheartedly, and I hated myself for not being that person. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pulling my hand away.

“For what?” Chanyeol asked, concern etched on his face.

“For not being honest with you. For trying to force something that was never going to work.”

His expression faltered, and I felt a pang of guilt, but I couldn’t stay silent anymore. “I care about you, Chanyeol. But my heart... it’s not here. It’s with someone else.”

“I want you to be happy,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, guilt threatening to swallow me whole.

“Don’t be,” he said, smiling sadly. “Sometimes, love isn’t about who’s perfect on paper. It’s about who makes your heart feel full.”

That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The pieces fell into place one by one, each more damning than the last. I didn’t want stability. I wanted fire, chaos, the kind of love that consumed you even when it hurt. I wanted Baekhyun.

One evening, I found myself standing outside Baekhyun’s apartment. It had been months since I’d last seen him, months since we had parted ways under the rain, months since the last time he tried to reach out. Yet, the thought of facing him again made my pulse race and my hands tremble.

When he opened the door, his expression shifted from surprise to something softer, almost vulnerable. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low.

“I know,” I whispered. “But I needed to see you.”

He stepped aside to let me in, his movements hesitant. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something unidentifiable in the air, grounding me and making my heart ache.

“So, what’s this about?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed defensively.

“I…” My words faltered. I had rehearsed this moment in my head countless times, yet now that I was here, I didn’t know where to begin.

“You’re with Chanyeol,” he said, filling the silence. His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t neutral either. “He’s good for you.”

“I ended it,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “He’s not you.”

His sharp intake of breath echoed in the small space between us. “You can’t do this,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t just come back and say things like that. You made it clear you wanted me out of your life.”

“I know it’s selfish,” I replied, stepping closer. “But I had to tell you the truth. I thought I wanted stability, someone who could give me the kind of love that didn’t hurt. But Baekhyun, nothing compares to what we had.”

“What we had nearly destroyed us,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Do you think I’ve forgotten how much we hurt each other?”

“I was scared,” I whispered. “Scared of going back to the way things were. Of us hurting each other again.”

I swallowed hard, tears welling in my eyes. “But I also remember the way you made me feel, like I was alive in a way I’ve never felt since. You were my fire, Baekhyun, and I don’t think I can live without that.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching as he processed my words. “You’re asking me to take a risk again. To go back to something we’ve already proved doesn’t work.”

“Baekhyun… I’m asking you to try,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

For a moment, the silence between us was deafening. Then, he closed the distance between us in two quick strides, his hands cupping my face as he pressed his lips to mine. It wasn’t the soft, tentative kiss of someone testing the waters. It was raw, desperate, and full of all the emotions we’d kept bottled up for far too long.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against mine. “If we do this again,” he said, his voice trembling, “we do it right. No more games, no more breaking each other’s hearts.”

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “No more games.”

The space between us disappeared as he stepped forward, his hands cupping my face. His touch was tentative, as though he was afraid I might disappear. “I’ll do better this time,” he whispered. “I promise.”

I smiled through the tears that blurred my vision. “I know you will.”

His lips met mine, soft and tentative at first, as if he was afraid I might disappear. But as I kissed him back, all the walls I’d built crumbled, and the love I’d tried to bury came rushing back like a tidal wave.

The chaos, the fire, the love—it was all still there, waiting for us to embrace it. Together.

It wasn’t easy, and there were times when I questioned if we were doing the right thing. But for every doubt, there was a moment that reminded me why I chose him. The way he held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way he’d look at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, his gaze full of unspoken emotions. The way he made me laugh, even on my worst days.

One rainy afternoon, as we sat on the couch, Baekhyun was strumming his guitar while I hummed along to the melody, and I realized something. Love didn’t have to be flawless to be worth fighting for. It just had to be real. And with Baekhyun, it always was.

His fingers paused on the strings, and he looked at me with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re off-key,” he teased, leaning closer.

I swatted his arm, laughing. “You’re off-rhythm.”

“Touché,” he said, setting the guitar down and pulling me into his lap. “But admit it, you missed my genius.”

Rolling my eyes, I rested my head against his shoulder, listening to the rain patter against the windows. These quiet moments felt different now—gentler, softer, like we’d found the balance we used to lack.

I couldn’t help the giggle escaping my lips when I felt his fingers crawl from my knee to my inner thigh. “Seriously?” I clicked my tongue, giving him a playful glare. “Last night was not enough?”

“Never,” Baekhyun trailed kisses from my jaw to my neck; his fingers started to undo the knot of my shorts. “I can never get enough of you.”

We’d both changed in the months since we found our way back to each other. Baekhyun still had his restless energy and still liked to push boundaries, but now he made an effort to include me in his world. And I learned to trust him again, little by little, realizing that love didn’t mean perfection—it meant showing up, trying, and forgiving.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Did you know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me?”

I tilted my head to look at him, my heart swelling at the sincerity in his gaze, trying so hard to focus on his words and not on his touches at the moment. “I think I’m finally starting to believe you.”

“You should,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on my lips and laying me down on the soft cushion of the couch. “Because I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it.”

We weren’t perfect—no relationship ever is. But we were learning, growing, and most importantly, choosing each other every single day. 

For the first time, I felt like we were enough.

And just like that, the chaos returned. However, this time, it felt like home.