#Life delights in life. (Verse - Family)

[fire-branded]

Continued from here:

Elwin would be lying if he says he can understand the depth of what the young girl must be feeling. Jill's story is unlike anything he has been faced with in his own life -- just as he wishes it is not a story that need be forced upon her small shoulders. But after much deliberation over a resolution to the decades-long conflicts between Rosaria and the Northern Territories, this was the best answer he could come up with, and so it is a cruelty that he will neither deny nor hide from view.

It is a cruelty that he will carry out not just for a better future for his own people -- but for Jill's as well. (After all, he tells himself: no ruler's hands are or ever will be completely clean of blood, no matter how much they wish otherwise.)

Brows furrow all the more, and for a moment, the Archduke's gaze averts to one side. Of course, the vow that Jill will be well cared for was not just an attempt to assuage some of her family's pain; it's also a promise to Jill herself, that the sins of her father -- just as he would hope the same grace would be extended to his boys if the roles were reversed -- will not be hers to bear. He starts to tell her so. Lips part in preparation, but he hesitates at the last, taking another moment to reconsider his reply.

As the man steps forward to join her, each step is measured; Elwin is careful not to startle her, fearing that his close proximity may urge her to flee. And in truth, he would not blame her if she did fear him, given the circumstances of her arrival in this new nation. Nonetheless, gloved fingers grasp hold of the railing. They curl around it to steady his thoughts just as much as steady his body.

"You will see your home again," he quietly promises. A small but sharp inhale is drawn in, and when he finally looks over at her, there's a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But in the meantime... Why not tell me about it? Should you feel comfortable in doing so, of course."

@phantasiiae

[pseudowho]

Grandpapamin

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

When Nanami Kento becomes a grandfather...

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Kento thought the happiest day of his life was when he became a father...but then, his baby had a baby.

It was like love...squared.

He and you dutifully took care of your daughter's house while she was in labour. Kento pruned the plants, and baked, and paced, and paced, and paced.

While Kento knew in his heart his daughter was being well cared-for, he felt stunningly unable to protect her while she went through the biggest day of her life.

In the night, you woke, and your hand brushed out across the sheets for Kento...only to find him not there.

You creep through the house, and find him sat in the armchair by lamplight, his eyes glistening with tears as he goes through an old box, full of photographs of his baby, little onesies, a handprint in clay, a decoration she made at school, her first drawings and handwriting.

You sit with him, in front of the fire, warm and reminiscent, of those long-short years when your babies were babies.

"...she'll be alright?" He worries aloud.

"She'll be more than alright. She'll be amazing," you reassure, kissing his greying temples, stroking crow's feet.

You lead him back to bed, his hand dry, like soft warm leather, and you hold each other with the earnest familiarity of an aged love.

When Kento's phone rings at 7:37 in the morning, a time he never forgets, he is out of bed with a lithe hop, answering, desperate for news.

A sweet, swooping joy, an excited wake-up, an embrace and relief; his grandchild is born, and everyone is safe.

Kento has a grandson; his daughter is resplendent, pink-cheeked, exhausted and proud. Kento holds her close, shedding tears into her hair as she cradles his new grandson; "I'm so proud of you, darling. I always have been. You deserve him."

He drives his daughter and her partner home, knowing they are exhausted.

Kento and you never overstay your welcome; you ensure the new family is comfortable, give kisses and hasty reassurances that you are both just a phone call away, and go home.

Kento cannot stop jiggling his leg in delight on the way home. He is imagining all the wonderful things he wants to do with his new grandson.

Kento calls everyone-- Gojo, Yuuji, Ino, Higuruma. Everyone is delighted. Everyone secretly wants him to be their grandfather.

It is only when Kento and you have gone, that your partner opens the freezer-- "Oh my god!" They exclaim, laughing, "I think your dad has cooked enough to last us a month!" Kento has, obviously. He believes in being organised.

Kento spends the next few years of his life being a thoroughly naughty responsible grandfather.

Visiting Grandpapamin? Oh, only the finest will do.

While Kento always plans wonderful meals with you, his daughter turns her back for just one minute, and returns to find her son with a treat in his hand.

Kento pleads ignorance as he slides the biscuit tin back into the cupboard, a glint in his eye.

Wickedly good at hide and seek. Teaches his grandson all the tricks.

Takes his grandson down to the river, Kento in some waders, his grandson in shorts and rubber boots up to his knees, with little nets, glass jars on strings.

Kento has a reference book for everything; birds, fish, flowers, trees...he and his grandson catch minnows, his grandson splashing, holding his little round cheeks in joy.

Kento thinks his heart might burst, retaliating playfully when his grandson splashes him, giggling.

Kento's grandson is well-versed on the flora and fauna by the little river, by the time he is a grown man. All he wanted to inherit from his grandfather was the old reference books they pored over together.

His grandson inherits Kento's Cursed-sight too, a truth which Kento feels deeply responsible for, as he did when it passed down to his daughter. He fears for his grandson and the terrifying visions he will see in the world.

One day, you catch Kento teaching himself little magic tricks. He curses as he gets tangled in long colourful handkerchiefs; you laugh and blush as he pulls garish flowers out of his sleeve for you. He shows them to his grandson like he has known how to do magic his whole life.

After long sunny days in the garden and by the river, you often find Kento asleep with his snoozing grandson drooling on his chest. You take a photo, every single time, put a blanket over them and leave them in peace.

Kento, who tucks you under his arm on the sofa when they've all gone home, your evenings as intimate as they have always been.

Kento would rather his daughter didn't spend all of her hard-earned money on daycare. Instead, Grandpapamin arrives at her house at 7:30am sharp, ready to babysit ahead of the workday.

The days are silly, wholesome. Tears and tantrums are swiftly, calmly de-escalated. Kento can and will persuade and bribe at mealtimes.

Kento who is just disappointed when his grandson behaves badly-- and that is so much worse than angry.

Kento who takes such good care of his and your health, determined to spend as many healthy years with his family as possible. His old scars ache and creak though; he longs for the sun and sea.

The next year, his grandson is big enough to carry Kento's birthday cake to him, and Kento grumbles, pink-eared as he mulishly accepts a chorus of "Happy birthday". There is an envelope with the cake.

"What's this?" He grumbles again, shooting his daughter a chastising look, "I told you you didn't have to get me anything." She smiles at him, lovely brown eyes twinkling. Kento looks inside-- tickets. Flight tickets. He looks up in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Kuantan?" He presses, excited despite his earlier chastisement.

"I thought we could all go. Together."

Though his blade hangs up on the wall, proud and displayed, at your insistence, Kento feels like he has been bestowed with the luck of the gods, to have dodged every bullet to get here.

His old scarred burns tingle and prickle, his eyepatch is old and worn, but his grandchildren never feared him; he is just Grandpapamin. He bakes. He takes them to the river. He teaches them how to whittle. He gives the best advice. He wears the softest cardigans.

Kento, who spends the golden years of his life with you, his world, the one who hung the stars.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ SANTA BABY

❛ 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭. 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: On a Christmas Eve brimming with emotion, Luna and Jeonghan exchange gifts that bring tears, laughter, and a profound realization that in each other, they’ve already won the greatest gift of all.

warnings: short but sweet, cursing, slightly suggestive, crying, a concerning amount of fluff, fluff, fluff, fluffiness, tooth-rotting fluff, fluff, oh! and have i mentioned more fluff? if not, then… fluff, may make you feel single on Christmas, established relationship, simp!Jeonghan, what-are-you-willing-to-do!Jeonghan, what-are-you-willing-to-do!Luna, down bad!JeongNa, just over all good vibes

this is the one-shot of JeongNa’s Christmas Eve and the full story behind their recent instagram update: This Christmas, With Love which you can read before this or after, whenever you prefer!! Merry Christmas and happy holidays, my loves!!! 🎄���

╰ ౨ৎ ig update: this Christmas, with love

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna had always loved the holidays.

Ever since she could remember, the mere thought of winter filled her chest with an inexplicable warmth, despite the icy chill in the air. It wasn’t just the season’s weather— though she adored that, too. The cold was like a gentle bite against her skin, the kind that turned her cheeks rosy and made her breath visible in small clouds.

She loved bundling up in scarves and coats, the feeling of knit gloves on her hands as she clutched warm drinks in the bitter cold. There was something magical about stepping outside into a world transformed, the frost painting delicate patterns on windows, the snow crunching softly beneath her boots, and the sharp, invigorating air filling her lungs.

And then there was the snow itself.

Oh, how she loved the snow.

It blanketed the world in pristine white, silencing the chaos of everyday life and making everything feel softer, purer.

As a child, she would press her tiny hands against frosted windows and watch with wide-eyed wonder as snowflakes danced and twirled their way to the ground. Each flake was unique, her parents had told her, just like people, and she used to imagine the stories each one carried before landing to become part of the earth.

Even now, as an adult, snow still held the same allure.

It wasn’t just precipitation— it was possibility, the kind that made her heart flutter with childish delight.

Luna is a child at heart despite her cold exterior.

But what she loved most about winter wasn’t the cold or the snow. It was the way the world seemed to transform with it, the festivities that erupted in its wake. Streets adorned with twinkling lights, their golden and multicolored hues casting a glow that could rival the stars. Storefronts dressed in wreaths and garlands, windows painted with frost-like designs. Homes turned into miniature wonderlands, with trees laden with ornaments and stockings hanging by fireplaces.

The air carried the unmistakable scent of pine and cinnamon, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and roasted chestnuts. Every corner of the world seemed to hum with life, bursting with the kind of chaotic joy that only the holidays could bring.

As a child, Luna had thrived in that chaos.

She might have been an only child, but she never felt lonely during the holidays. Her family was large, sprawling with cousins of all ages, aunts and uncles who filled rooms with loud chatter and booming laughter.

The holidays were a cacophony of voices, a blur of brightly wrapped gifts, a feast that stretched across tables and seemed to last for hours. She loved every second of it— the giggles that echoed through the halls, the way wrapping paper was torn apart in a frenzy, revealing carefully chosen gifts that would elicit gasps of delight.

And oh, the food.

Plates upon plates of lovingly prepared dishes, the kind that could make anyone feel at home with just one bite.

For Luna, those gatherings were the essence of the holidays: love, warmth, and a little bit of chaos, all wrapped together in a bow.

Even now, as an adult, not much had changed.

Luna still carried that same love for the holidays in her heart. She’d grown older, of course, and her world had expanded beyond her childhood home. She had met people who changed her life, built friendships that felt more like family.

The members of her group had become just as much a part of her holidays as her own blood relatives.

Each year, no matter how busy their own schedules or how far apart they might be, they always made time for each other. Even if they spent the holidays with their own families, they exchanged gifts and heartfelt messages, sometimes sneaking moments to celebrate together.

A quiet dinner, a surprise visit, or even a late-night video call— those small gestures kept them connected.

Luna cherished it all.

To her, the holidays weren’t just about one’s own traditions but about sharing the joy with others, whether that meant her childhood family or the family she had found along the way.

The truth was, Luna loved everything about this season.

The lights, the snow, the chaos, and the spirit of giving. It reminded her of who she was— someone who poured herself wholeheartedly into the people she loved. And in return, the holidays gave her a kind of magic she carried with her long after the season had passed.

This year’s Christmas, their house glowed with warmth, its halls bedecked in festive splendor that seemed to reflect the happiness within its walls. Twinkling fairy lights hung across doorways, their soft golden glow matching the gentle flicker of candles on the dining table.

The Christmas tree stood in the corner, a towering figure dressed in silver and gold ornaments, its star perched proudly at the top. Beneath it, an array of carefully wrapped gifts spilled out in every direction, their ribbons tied with care. The air was filled with the mingling scents of pine, cinnamon, and the rich aroma of dinner wafting in from the kitchen.

It was, without a doubt, the perfect backdrop for a Christmas celebration, one that carried an extra layer of excitement this year.

For the first time in their five years of celebrating Christmas together, Jeonghan and Luna were doing so as an engaged couple.

Neither of them had spoken it aloud, but there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, something electric and unspoken that urged them both to make this year unforgettable.

It wasn’t about the grandeur of the decorations or the extravagance of the gifts; it was about the meaning behind it all— the deepening of their bond, the blending of their families, and the joy of creating memories they would carry with them forever.

Jeonghan’s parents and his younger sister had arrived first, greeted at the door by Luna, who immediately pulled them into warm hugs, her smile brighter than the Christmas lights around her. Her parents followed soon after, carrying platters of food they insisted on contributing despite Luna’s protests that everything was already taken care of.

It wasn’t long before the house was alive with chatter and laughter, the kind that only family could bring.

Dinner was a feast fit for royalty, with dishes spread across the table in a kaleidoscope of colors and aromas.

At the center was a steaming pot of galbi-jjim, tender braised short ribs simmered in a rich soy-based sauce, its sweetness heightened by chestnuts, jujubes, and carrots. Bowls of velvety tteokguk, the rice cake soup, plates of crispy jeon, golden pancakes made from savory ingredients like seafood and kimchi, were stacked high, inviting everyone to share. A platter of hobakjuk, creamy pumpkin porridge, added a touch of sweetness, balanced by the fiery kick of kimchi. For dessert, there were delicacies like yakgwa, honey-soaked cookies, and soft baesuk, steamed pears infused with cinnamon and pine nuts.

The feast, a harmonious blend of flavors, mirrored the joy and togetherness of the season, with every bite evoking the warmth of home. Luna sat beside Jeonghan, their hands occasionally brushing as they passed dishes or poured drinks, a small, private smile exchanged between them every time.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, stories weaving in and out as glasses clinked and plates were filled.

The laughter continued, each story sparking another until the room felt as though it might burst with joy.

Luna’s father shared a story about her childhood Christmas antics, like the year she tried to stay up all night to catch Santa in the act, only to fall asleep under the tree. Jeonghan’s mother chimed in with tales of his childhood mischief, and soon the table was a tapestry of memories, old and new, weaving their two families closer together.

When the meal finally wound down, it was time for the gifts. They gathered around the tree, the soft glow of the lights casting a warm hue over their faces. Each person took turns handing out their presents, the room filling with exclamations of gratitude and delight as wrapping paper was torn away.

Luna watched the exchange with her heart swelling, her gaze drifting to Jeonghan. In that moment, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by gratitude— for him, for their families, for the life they were building together.

Finally, as the night grew late, it was time to say goodbye.

Jeonghan’s parents hugged Luna tightly, thanking her for hosting such a wonderful evening, and her parents did the same with Jeonghan. Promises to meet again soon were exchanged as coats were retrieved and farewells were made.

Soon, the house was quiet again, the echoes of laughter lingering in its walls as Jeonghan and Luna closed the door behind their families.

For the first time that evening, they were alone.

As the door clicked shut behind the last of their family, Luna instinctively turned toward the dining table, her hands already reaching for the nearest stack of plates.

The remnants of their joyous evening lay scattered across the table— half-empty wine glasses, crumpled napkins, and the last crumbs of their feast. The soft hum of holiday music played faintly in the background, blending seamlessly with the warmth still lingering in the air.

It was the kind of mess that didn’t bother her, really.

To Luna, it was evidence of a night well spent, but her natural instinct to tidy up took over before she even thought twice. She moved efficiently, stacking plates and gathering utensils, her steps light but purposeful.

Jeonghan, still leaning against the wall near the tree, watched her with an affectionate smile. He hadn’t moved yet, his arms folded loosely as he admired the way she seemed to glide through the room. There was something endlessly endearing about Luna when she was in her element, her focus so pure and unassuming.

But tonight, Jeonghan wasn’t about to let her get too far into her routine.

As she reached for another plate, she felt familiar arms slide around her waist from behind. The sudden warmth of his touch startled her for only a second before she leaned into him, already accustomed to his affectionate interruptions.

Jeonghan’s chin came to rest on her shoulder, his soft hair tickling the side of her face as he nuzzled her cheek.

“Leave it,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, punctuated with a kiss to the side of her head.

Luna let out a small laugh, but her hands continued their work, stacking another plate onto the growing pile in front of her. “We’ve been over this, Han. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, tightening his hold on her waist as if to physically stop her. “But why do we have to start at all right now? It’s Christmas,” he crooned, his tone lilting and playful, as though he were coaxing a stubborn child. “Can’t we just… enjoy the night? You know, us?”

Luna tried to twist her head to look at him, but he pressed another kiss to her temple, effectively stopping her. “I am enjoying the night,” she countered, her tone firm but softened by the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll enjoy it even more when our house isn’t a mess.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound vibrating against her back. “You’re impossible,” he whispered, brushing his lips lightly against her ear. “But you love me, right?”

“I do,” Luna admitted without hesitation, her voice quieter now, though her hands still busied themselves with gathering utensils. “Which is why you should help me instead of distracting me.”

“I’ll help,” he promised, his voice taking on a sing-song quality as his hands shifted to her hips, gently swaying her from side to side. “Later.”

“Later?” she echoed, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as a giggle escaped her lips.

“Yes, later,” he confirmed, his tone overly patient as though explaining something to a small child. “Right now, I’m more excited to give you your gift. And to see what you got me. Isn’t that more fun than cleaning, Nana-ya?”

Luna paused at that, finally setting the plates down with a sigh. She turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, his expression smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“You’re so persistent,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him even as her resolve wavered.

“And you’re so stubborn,” Jeonghan countered, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Which is why we’re perfect for each other and which is why I love you. But come on, Jiyeonie. Just for tonight. Let’s not worry about the mess. I’ll clean every single plate tomorrow if it makes you feel better.”

Luna sighed again, this time louder, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine,” she relented, her voice tinged with mock exasperation. “But if the house is still messy tomorrow, I’m holding you accountable.”

“Deal,” Jeonghan said instantly, his grin widening as he released her waist only to grab her hand instead. He began leading her away from the table, his excitement palpable. “Now come on. I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

As Luna allowed herself to be guided, she couldn’t help but reflect on how this had become their tradition.

Just as they had started spending the holidays with both their families after they began dating five years ago, this part of the night— just the two of them exchanging gifts— had become sacred.

Neither of them could quite pinpoint when or why it started.

Maybe it was the intimacy of it, the way it felt like a quiet pocket of time reserved solely for them amidst the chaos of the holidays. Or maybe it was just easier to be vulnerable when there were no prying eyes, no pressure to perform or impress.

Whatever the reason, they had come to cherish this moment, when it was just them, raw and unfiltered, sharing their hearts in a way they couldn’t with anyone else.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan as he guided her to the couch, his fingers laced with hers. There was a spark of boyish excitement in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile.

No matter how many years passed, no matter how much their lives changed, this moment— just the two of them— felt like home.

Jeonghan led Luna to the couch with a confident stride, his fingers still laced with hers. As they sat down, he shifted slightly to face her, leaning against the cushions with a teasing glint in his eyes.

It was a look Luna knew all too well— mischievous and self-assured, like he was holding onto a secret so tantalizing that he could barely contain himself.

She raised a brow at him, already sensing he was up to something, though she couldn’t quite figure out what. “What?” she asked, drawing the word out, her tone skeptical but laced with curiosity.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his grin growing wider. “Nothing,” he replied, his voice light and sing-song, which of course only made her more suspicious.

“You’re such a bad liar. Terrible actually,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him.

He chuckled, leaning closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “Okay, fine,” he said, lowering his voice to a mock whisper, as though he were letting her in on a great secret. “I just know something you don’t.”

Luna blinked at him, deadpan. “Oh, here we go.”

Jeonghan leaned back, feigning shock. “What? You don’t even know what I’m about to say!”

“I don’t have to. It’s you. You always think you know everything,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest, though she couldn’t hide the small smile playing at her lips.

“That’s because I do know everything… especially about you,” he declared, puffing his chest out dramatically. He nudged her side gently with his elbow, his grin turning smug. “For example, I know that my gift for you is the best gift in the entire universe.”

Luna scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Jeonghan affirmed, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. He leaned in again, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’m so confident, in fact, that I’ll bet my entire Christmas stocking you’re going to cry.”

“Cry?” Luna echoed, her brows lifting in disbelief.

“Cry,” he repeated firmly, his voice dropping into a soft, almost teasing coo. “Big, pouring, emotional tears. You’re going to cry so hard that you’ll need, like, three tissues. Minimum.”

Luna’s laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, and she shook her head at him. “Three tissues, huh?”

“Maybe four,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “You’re a crier. I know these things.”

“I am not a crier,” she protested, giving him a light shove, though she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

“Oh, you are, my baby,” Jeonghan said, catching her hand before she could pull it back. He interlaced their fingers, his thumb grazing her knuckles in a way that was almost distracting. “Remember last month when we watched that random commercial about a dog? You cried for, like, twenty minutes.”

“That was different!” Luna argued, her voice rising slightly as she tried to defend herself. “The dog was lost and then found his way home. That’s emotional, Hannie.”

Jeonghan just laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Exactly my point. If a dog commercial can make you cry, my gift is going to ruin you.”

“Bold words,” Luna said, narrowing her eyes at him again, though her tone was light. “But you know what? If you’re so sure your gift is the best, I hope you’re ready to eat your words. Because I know my gift is going to make you cry.”

Jeonghan’s brows shot up, his expression one of exaggerated surprise. “Oh? You think so?”

“I don’t think so. I know so,” Luna replied, her voice turning smug as she tilted her chin up. “You’re going to cry harder than me. One hundred percent.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned closer again, his eyes sparkling. “You’re cute when you’re cocky, you know that, my pretty moon?”

“And you’re insufferable,” she shot back, but her tone was fond, her lips twitching into another smile.

“Mm, but you love me,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as he stared at her with that soft, adoring look that always left her feeling like her heart was a little too big for her chest.

“Unfortunately,” she said, pretending to sound exasperated, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her.

Jeonghan suddenly poked her side, making her jump and let out a small squeak. “Stop that!” she protested, swatting at his hand, but he only grinned wider, clearly delighted by her reaction.

“You’re too confident, Miss Luna,” he said, poking her again and laughing when she squirmed. “We can’t have that.”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” she whined, her voice a mix of annoyance and laughter. “If you keep that up, I swear—”

“What? You’ll cry before I even give you your gift?” he teased, poking her one last time before grabbing her hands to stop her from retaliating.

Luna huffed, glaring at him, but there was no real heat in her gaze. “You’re such a child.”

“And you love that about me,” he countered, his voice softening as his teasing grin shifted into a gentle smile. He brought her hands up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “Admit it.”

“Maybe a little,” she muttered, though the way her cheeks flushed gave her away.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened as he gazed at her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them charged with something quiet but undeniable. Luna looked away first, clearing her throat as she tried to regain her composure.

“Anyway,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, “I guess we’ll just have to see who cries first.”

“Oh, we will,” Jeonghan said, his tone full of certainty as he leaned back slightly, still holding her hands. “And when you do, I’ll be ready with the tissues. Four of them.”

Luna laughed again, shaking her head at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his voice so soft and genuine that it caught her off guard. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, she felt like the rest of the world had melted away.

This was their Christmas tradition, and in moments like these, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. “Alright, Nana-ya,” he teased, his voice light and coaxing. “Why don’t we start with your gift for me? Not because I’m dying to see what you got me or anything— though I totally am— but because we need to save the best for last, which is obviously my gift for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes at his cockiness but couldn’t fight the soft smile tugging at her lips. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes softening as her gaze lingered on his face.

His smile was mischievous, his hair slightly tousled from leaning against the cushions, and his confidence was absolutely shining through. And yet, there was an undeniable tenderness in his features that made her heart skip a beat.

After a few seconds, Luna shook her head, giving in with a small laugh. “Fine,” she murmured. “We’ll start with mine.”

Jeonghan grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Knew you’d see things my way.”

Luna reached for her phone on the table, unlocking it swiftly and beginning to type with purpose. Her fingers flew over the screen, her brow furrowed in concentration as Jeonghan watched her with growing curiosity. His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

“Are you just ordering my gift right now?” he teased, his voice light but probing. “Don’t tell me you forgot to buy me something.”

Luna didn’t even look up as she smirked. “Nope. In fact, I’ve been working on your gift all year.”

That made Jeonghan pause. His brows shot up, and his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but before he could, the familiar chime of a notification sounded from his phone. He looked down at it, then back up at her, his expression skeptical yet intrigued.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding her gaze.

Luna only smiled as she locked her phone and placed it aside. “Go ahead,” she said, leaning back against the couch with an air of playful mystery. “Open it.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching with a faint smirk. “Did you wire me your entire bank account? Because that will actually make me cry, baby.”

Luna let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Just check your phone, Hannie.”

Still watching her closely, Jeonghan picked up his phone and unlocked it. His thumb hovered over the screen before he noticed the Instagram notification at the top.

It was a post from Luna.

His curiosity peaked, and he clicked on it, his brows knitting together in confusion before they shot up in surprise.

It was a new post on Luna’s feed— a picture of her… it was an album cover and the track list which he has not seen before and her caption immediately caught his attention. His eyes darted across the text as he read it under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper:

“‘Not all gifts come wrapped; some are sung… here’s my gift wrapped in melodies! A little something for the holidays. Five songs for someone who makes my world brighter. Maybe they’ll make yours a little warmer too! For the one who inspired it and for all of you… Santa’s biggest secret this year? Is that I made this about you, thinking of you, inspired by you, just for you, @/jeonghaniyoo_n, because Santa doesn’t know you like I do, my angel boy…. this Christmas, with love… out now!!’”

Jeonghan’s voice faltered at the end, and he fell silent, staring at the screen as the weight of her words sunk in.

Luna watched him closely, her soft smile widening as she took in his reaction.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak— he was utterly frozen, his thumb still hovering over the caption.

“You wanna listen to it, my love?” she asked softly, her voice warm and teasing.

Jeonghan didn’t respond at first.

He inhaled deeply, blinking as if trying to process everything, before letting out a shaky breath. “Give me a second,” he murmured, his voice unusually firm. He looked up at her then, his face blank, but the deadpan humor in his tone was unmistakable. “I just need to wrap my head around the fact that you’re this obsessed with me.”

Luna burst into laughter, doubling over as her shoulders shook with mirth. “Obsessed with you?” she echoed, grinning at him. “You think I wrote an entire album because I’m obsessed with you?”

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze sharp yet amused. “Did you not? Five songs, Nana-ya. Five. All about me. That screams obsession, babe.”

“And here I thought you’d be flattered,” she teased, sitting up straighter and shrugging nonchalantly. “Guess I’ll just take it back.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jeonghan shot back, his grin returning as he leaned closer to her. “You’re not taking anything back. In fact, I’m going to make you admit it.”

“Admit what?” she asked, her eyes twinkling as she matched his energy.

“That you’re absolutely head over heels for me,” he said, his tone both smug and playful. “I mean, I already knew that, but now the whole world does too.”

Luna laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re in love with me,” Jeonghan countered, his voice dropping into a softer, more teasing tone as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Deeply, madly, irrevocably.”

“Maybe,” Luna admitted with a small shrug, her smile turning coy. “But you’re not much better, Hannie. I bet you’re going to cry when you listen to those songs.”

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice full of mock exasperation. “First, you ruin me with that caption, and now this? I swear, Bae Jiyeon, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Luna couldn’t stop smiling as she leaned closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. “But what a way to go, huh?” she teased softly, her voice warm and full of love.

Jeonghan let out a low laugh, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What a way to go.”

They sat like that for a few moments longer, Jeonghan’s eyes still fixed on his phone screen, until Luna nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “Come on,” she coaxed, her voice soft and encouraging. “Let’s listen to it together.”

His gaze shifted from his phone to her, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You’re really not going to let me mentally prepare for this, are you?”

Luna leaned in, her eyes bright with mischief. “Nope. I’ve been waiting for this moment all year, Hannie. Indulge me, please.”

Jeonghan let out a mock sigh, his fingers moving to unlock his phone. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, but the way his smile deepened betrayed the fondness behind his words.

“And you love it,” Luna teased, inching closer to him on the couch as he navigated to her album.

“Unfortunately,” he replied, his voice dripping with fake exasperation. He pulled up the album, the tracklist appearing on his screen. “Alright, your majesty, let’s see what all this fuss is about.”

Before Jeonghan could press play, Luna crawled closer to him, her movements unhurried and natural, until she ended up seated snugly on his lap. Jeonghan didn’t even flinch— his arms automatically moved to encircle her, caging her in as he adjusted the phone in front of them so they could both see the screen. Luna leaned her head against his chest, her cheek pressing against his sweater, the scent of his cologne familiar and comforting.

“Comfortable?” Jeonghan asked, his voice low and teasing, but his fingers rested lightly against her back, tracing small, lazy patterns.

“Mmhm,” Luna mumbled, her eyes already fluttering shut. She was exhausted from the day, but there was nowhere else she’d rather be than here, wrapped up in his arms.

Jeonghan chuckled softly. “Alright, let’s do this,” he murmured, pressing play on the first track.

The first song began to play, and the room was filled with Luna’s voice, sweet and melodic, carrying lyrics that spoke of warmth, love, and quiet devotion.

Jeonghan was quiet as he listened, his focus entirely on the music. Luna, on the other hand, let herself sink deeper into her position, the memories of writing each song flooding her mind. She remembered the late nights spent scribbling down lyrics, the moments of inspiration when Jeonghan would unknowingly say or do something that would spark a melody in her head.

As the second, third, and fourth songs played, Luna remained still, her head nestled against Jeonghan’s chest. He hadn’t said a word, but she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her cheek. Every now and then, his hand would tighten slightly on her back, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.

It wasn’t until the fifth and final song ended that Luna heard it— a soft sniffle. Her eyes snapped open, and she tilted her head up to look at Jeonghan.

“Hannie?” she asked softly, her brow furrowing when she saw the glassy sheen in his eyes.

Jeonghan immediately looked away, tilting his head to the side as if that would somehow hide the tears threatening to fall. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice slightly strained.

Luna blinked, her lips parting in surprise. “Oh my gosh, are you really crying?” she asked, her tone somewhere between teasing and genuine concern.

“No,” Jeonghan said quickly, his voice unconvincing as he brought a hand up to rub at his eye.

Luna sat up straighter, turning fully to straddle his lap as she cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her. “You’re actually crying,” she said, her voice softer now as she took in the sight of him.

Jeonghan rarely cried— she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him like this— and it made her chest tighten in both amusement and tenderness.

“I’m not crying,” Jeonghan insisted, though his voice wavered, betraying him.

Luna bit her lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “Hannie,” she said, her thumbs brushing gently across his cheeks. “Are you really crying because of my songs?”

Jeonghan exhaled a shaky breath, his lips twitching upward in a weak smile. “What can I say? You’ve turned me into a sap,” he said, his tone light but his eyes betraying the depth of his emotions. “Also, correction, songs about me, Jiyeonie. Who does that? You’re literally obsessed with me.”

Luna couldn’t hold back her laughter this time. “I thought we already established that,” she teased, leaning in closer.

Jeonghan groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “You’re not helping,” he said, his voice muffled. “You’re trying to kill me, I swear.”

Luna giggled, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I mean, if this is how you’re going to react, maybe I should write five more songs next year.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jeonghan said, lifting his head to glare at her, though the corners of his mouth were still curved upward.

They both dissolved into laughter, the tension in the room melting away. As Luna’s giggles subsided, she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for letting me embarrass you,” she said softly, her voice full of affection.

Jeonghan wrapped his arms more securely around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. “Thank you for loving me enough to embarrass myself,” he murmured, his tone earnest now.

Luna smiled, her hands cupping his face once more as she wiped away the remnants of his tears. “You’re welcome, my love,” she whispered.

Jeonghan leaned back slightly, his mischievous grin returning. “You know,” he began, his voice teasing, “if you ever decide to make a second album about me, at least title it something dramatic. Like ‘The Yoon Jeonghan Effect.’”

Luna groaned, dropping her head to his shoulder as laughter bubbled out of her. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice muffled against his sweater.

“And you love it,” he shot back, his arms tightening around her.

“Unfortunately,” she replied, echoing his earlier words.

Jeonghan's fingers trailed softly over the curve of Luna's back, his touch featherlight yet deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine. His hand lingered for a moment at the small of her back before gliding upward, his movements unhurried. When his hand reached the nape of her neck, he gently cupped it, his thumb brushing tenderly against her skin. With a gentle tug, he coaxed her to tilt her head up, making her meet his gaze.

Luna's lashes fluttered as her eyes rose to meet his, her lips parting slightly at the intensity of his expression.

Jeonghan was looking down at her like she was the only person in the world, his eyes drinking in every detail of her face as though committing it to memory. His soft smile carried a reverence that made Luna's heart stumble in her chest.

Without breaking eye contact, Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back just enough to whisper, "I love you."

Luna's lips curved into a small, content smile, her eyes falling shut as Jeonghan moved to place a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"I love you," he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper, the tenderness in it making her chest ache in the best way.

The next kiss landed on her right eyelid, prompting her to close her eyes

instinctively. "I love you," he said softly, the words falling like a prayer.

Then, he kissed her left eyelid, his thumb brushing along her jaw. "I love you."

Luna felt her cheeks grow warm under the gentle onslaught of his affection, a soft giggle escaping her lips as he kissed her right cheek next.

"I love you," he murmured, his smile growing wider at the sound of her laughter.

He kissed her left cheek next, lingering for a heartbeat longer. "I love you."

Luna's giggle turned into a soft hum as she kept her eyes closed, her smile unbroken.

She felt entirely at his mercy, her body melting into his touch as though he was the sun and she was a flower basking in his warmth.

When Jeonghan finally stopped, his hands cradled her face, his thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks. He studied her face for a moment, his gaze sweeping over every feature as though searching for something he hadn't yet memorized.

"Open your eyes," he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a secret meant only for her.

Luna slowly opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken emotion as they stared at each other, their faces mere inches apart.

"I love you," Jeonghan whispered again, his voice cracking just slightly, his sincerity cutting through the air like a blade.

“I love you,” Luna's breath hitched as his eyes flickered to her lips. He licked his own, almost subconsciously, and she caught the faintest movement of his throat as he swallowed.

Then, with painstaking slowness, he leaned in.

His lips met hers softly at first, like the brush of a butterfly's wings. Luna's breath caught as her senses were overwhelmed by him-the taste of wine lingering faintly on his lips, the gentle pressure, the warmth of his hands framing her face. Jeonghan moved with deliberate care, his lips molding against hers in a way that felt both tender and possessive.

As the kiss deepened, he tilted his head slightly, his movements unhurried but assured. His lips parted just enough for his tongue to trace the seam of hers, coaxing a soft sigh from her. Luna responded instinctively, her hands curling into the fabric of his sweater as she leaned into him.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity and a single moment all at once.

When Jeonghan finally pulled away, it was only by a fraction of an inch. Luna's lips chased after his on instinct, a soft whine escaping her as her eyes remained closed.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Jeonghan teased, his voice low and laced with amusement.

Luna huffed, her cheeks flushed as she opened her eyes to glare at him half-heartedly. "You stopped, Han," she mumbled, her lips curving into a pout.

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands still cradling her face. "I just needed a second to remind myself how lucky I am," he murmured before leaning in again.

This time, the kiss was hungrier, more urgent. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that made Luna's heart race, his hands sliding down to rest on her waist as he pulled her closer. Luna's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss further.

Jeonghan groaned softly against her lips, the sound sending a thrill down her spine.

Their movements were synchronized, a perfect give and take, their kisses growing slower but no less intense as they savored each other.

When Luna finally pulled away, her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her forehead rested against Jeonghan's, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "I love you too, so much."

Jeonghan's eyes fluttered open, his gaze searching hers. "You're going to be the death of me," he repeated, though his smile betrayed the lack of real complaint in his words.

"Good," Luna teased, her fingers playing with the strands of his hair as she leaned in to peck his lips lightly.

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands sliding up to rest on her back. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me forever," she replied, her voice soft but unwavering.

Jeonghan's smile softened, his arms tightening around her as he pulled her into a hug. "That's the plan," he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

Luna smiled against his shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck. "You're stuck with me, you know."

"Good," Jeonghan said, echoing her earlier words. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes filled with a love so profound it made Luna's heart ache.

Jeonghan’s fingers gently combed through Luna’s hair, his touch soft and soothing. “Do you want to see your gift, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice low and warm as he looked down at her.

Luna hummed, her cheek pressed against his chest, her arms still loosely draped around his neck. “I completely forgot about that,” she admitted, her voice muffled by his sweater.

Jeonghan chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “You shouldn’t. My gift for you is just as unforgettable as your gift to me.” His lips curved into a teasing smile, his tone lighthearted but with a hint of excitement.

He gently shifted her off his lap, moving to stand. The moment his warmth left her, Luna whined softly, her arms reaching out as if to pull him back. “Don’t go,” she pouted, her lips tugging downward as her eyes followed him.

Jeonghan bent down, his hands cupping her cheeks as he cooed, “Baby, I’ll be quick. I promise.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her lower lip jutting out in defiance. “You just got me all comfy, and now you’re leaving?”

His laugh was soft, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m not leaving, my moon. Just going to get your gift.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, his voice a soothing murmur. “Stay right here, okay? I’ll be back in no time.”

Luna huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the couch. “Fine. But you better not take forever.”

“I won’t,” he assured her, his tone laced with amusement. Jeonghan straightened up and started toward the hallway but stopped midway, glancing back with a mischievous smile. “And don’t even think about snooping. That’s off-limits.”

Luna raised a brow, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jeonghan gave her a knowing look before disappearing down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

Left alone, Luna sighed, letting her head fall back against the couch. Her gaze flickered to the ceiling as her curiosity began to bubble up. What could he have been keeping in the guest room all this time? Jeonghan had been oddly secretive about it since this morning, even telling her earlier that day not to peek inside.

Her mind wandered as she traced idle patterns on the armrest of the couch. Despite her momentary impatience, she couldn’t suppress the warm feeling that spread through her at the thought of Jeonghan planning something special just for her.

Minutes felt like hours as she waited, her ears straining to pick up any sound from the other room. “What’s taking him so long?” she muttered under her breath, her curiosity mounting with each passing second.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint creak of the guest bedroom door, followed by the sound of Jeonghan’s footsteps approaching. Luna sat up straighter, her eyes fixed on the hallway with a mixture of anticipation and excitement.

“Finally,” she said as he appeared, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I thought you were never coming back.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands behind his back. “Patience, Nana-ya. Good things take time.”

Luna narrowed her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the growing smile on her lips. Whatever was hidden behind him, she could tell by the look on his face that it meant a lot to him.

And that made her heart flutter.

Jeonghan walked into the living room, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, his hands tucked behind his back to keep the gift hidden from view. Luna, sitting cross-legged on the couch, eyed him suspiciously. Her curiosity had been bubbling since he’d disappeared down the hallway.

Jeonghan took a seat next to her, still holding the gift behind him, and leaned back casually as if he weren’t keeping her in suspense. “Hmm,” he mused aloud, glancing at her sideways with a mischievous smirk. “You know… maybe it’s too early to give you this gift. It’s still Christmas Eve, after all. Maybe we should wait until Christmas morning.”

Luna immediately narrowed her eyes. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she said warningly, her tone dripping with suspicion. “Don’t even think about it.”

Feigning innocence, Jeonghan rose from the couch, making a show of stepping backward as if he were about to leave. “What? I’m just saying, it might be more meaningful tomorrow. You can wait, right, baby?”

“Try walking backwards all the way back there. I dare you,” Luna challenged, crossing her arms as a smirk tugged at her lips.

Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh, his shoulders shaking. “You’re persuasive,” he said, moving to sit back down beside her. “Fine, fine. You win. But…” He turned to face her fully, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have to close your eyes for me first, alright?. No peeking.”

Luna tilted her head, eyeing him suspiciously for a moment before sighing. “Fine,” she relented. She was, after all, a good girl— his good girl. Obediently, she closed her eyes, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she waited.

Jeonghan, still grinning like a mischievous child, leaned forward and placed a quick, soft kiss on her lips. “There you go,” he said teasingly. “That’s your gift. Merry Christmas!”

Luna’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at him, unimpressed. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and mock annoyance. “If the kiss is the gift, at least make sure it’s a proper one and not something you’d give back in kindergarten with your crush.”

Jeonghan’s grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “A kindergarten kiss?” he repeated, raising a brow. “Are you sure? Do you want to talk about our kiss earlier? That was definitely not childish. And trust me, you don’t want to challenge me on this.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious murmur. “If I show you what a real kiss looks like again, we might end up with another gift in nine months.”

Luna’s eyes widened, her cheeks turning bright red as his words sank in. “Ya!” she exclaimed, smacking his chest in embarrassment.

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, removing one hand from his back and placing a hand over his chest where she’d hit him, though his lips curled into an annoying smirk. “What?” he said, laughing. “I’m just saying the truth.”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” Luna said again, her voice high-pitched with exasperation. “Just give me my gift already!”

Jeonghan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “But you have to close your eyes again. For real this time.”

Luna shot him a pointed glare but reluctantly complied, her eyes fluttering shut as she huffed in irritation. “If this is another trick, I’m going to—”

“It’s not,” Jeonghan interrupted, his voice soft with reassurance. “I promise.”

Luna took a deep breath, waiting patiently, her hands resting on her knees. She couldn’t see Jeonghan’s face, but if she could, she’d know he was grinning ear to ear as he stared at her.

Her trust in him, the way she immediately complied with his request, made his heart swell.

A few seconds passed before she felt it— a soft weight settling in her lap.

Confusion flickered across her features as her hands instinctively moved to touch it. Her fingers brushed against something warm, something soft. Then, it shifted slightly, its small, fluffy body wriggling under her touch.

Her breath caught as her fingers trailed upward, feeling long, velvety ears that flopped over in her hands. Luna froze, her mind piecing it together even before she opened her eyes.

“Hannie…” she whispered, her voice shaky with surprise. But she kept her eyes shut, savoring the moment.

She didn’t need to see to know what— or rather, who— was now sitting on her lap.

The soft, warm sniff of a tiny nose brushed against Luna’s fingers, and her entire body tensed as if holding back a flood of emotion.

Without opening her eyes, her head dropped forward, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. Her shoulders began to shake, silent tremors overtaking her before a quiet sob escaped her lips. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unstoppable, as she broke down completely.

Jeonghan, still seated beside her, watched her with a soft smile, his chest tightening at her overwhelmed reaction but also brimming with quiet amusement. “Open your eyes, angel,” he coaxed gently, his voice laced with a low chuckle.

Luna obeyed without hesitation, lifting her head and blinking her watery eyes open.

The world came into focus, and there it was— a small tan bunny, its tiny paws resting on her lap, its soft fur a shade of warm beige that seemed to glow in the Christmas lights. Its long, floppy ears trailed down as it gazed up at her with curious, shiny eyes.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and the tears that had already been falling came down in an even heavier torrent. She covered her face with both hands, her whine muffled but still audible. “No, no, no,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “Han… no… are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

Jeonghan’s chuckle grew into a laugh, low and affectionate. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone cry harder over a bunny,” he teased, leaning closer to her and brushing his fingers gently across her trembling shoulder. “Hey, hey, breathe, Jiyeon-ah. Come on, pretty girl. It’s okay.”

Luna peeked at him from between her fingers, her cheeks wet and her lips quivering. The bunny remained in her lap, still and sweet, its nose twitching as if trying to figure out its new owner.

From as long as Luna could remember, she’d been obsessed with animals. Dogs, cats, birds— she loved them all. But bunnies had always held a special place in her heart. Maybe it was their soft, round bodies that felt like clouds come to life. Or the way their long ears drooped behind them as they moved. Or perhaps it was their fluffy tails, little pom-poms that bounced with every hop. Whatever it was, bunnies had enchanted her from the time she was a child.

When her fans started calling her a bunny, it only cemented her affection for the creatures. She remembered how her heart had swelled with joy the first time she saw the nickname trending online.

It felt like a perfect reflection of her— small, sweet, and sometimes a little shy.

But despite her deep love for them, she’d never had one of her own. Her mother had been allergic to fur, and that had meant no pets— no dogs, no cats, and definitely no bunnies. As a child, she’d begged and pleaded, but it was never possible and she understood that.

When she grew older and moved to Seoul to be an idol and finally moved into her own space, the thought of getting a bunny crossed her mind immediately. She’d even researched breeds and names, imagining what it would be like to finally hold one. But her busy idol life had always interfered. There was no time to properly care for a pet, and eventually, the dream of owning one slipped into the background.

It became something she daydreamed about but never acted on.

And now, Jeonghan had brought that dream to life.

“You didn’t…” Luna choked out, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, her hands trembling as they hovered over the bunny’s soft fur.

Jeonghan reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. “I did,” he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a lullaby. “And you’re going to cry yourself into dehydration if you don’t stop, angel. Breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths.”

Luna tried, hiccupping as she inhaled shakily. But the sight of the bunny in her lap sent another wave of emotion crashing over her. Jeonghan chuckled again, pulling her closer.

Carefully, he shifted her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her securely. Luna let herself collapse against him, her face buried in his chest as the bunny hopped across her lap to nestle against her stomach. She reached down, her hands finally finding the courage to scoop the bunny up. Its fur was softer than she’d imagined, its tiny body warm and alive against her palms.

“Is it really mine?” she whispered, her voice barely audible through her sobs. Her wide eyes searched Jeonghan’s face, her lips pouting like a child seeking reassurance.

Jeonghan smiled, his hand stroking her hair. “It’s yours,” he said firmly, his voice dripping with tenderness. “All yours. Merry Christmas, pretty girl.”

Luna’s grip on the bunny tightened as she hugged it to her chest, her tears soaking into its fur. “I can’t believe this,” she murmured, shaking her head. “When did you— how did you even— Yoon Jeonghan!”

Jeonghan laughed at her flustered state, his eyes sparkling with adoration. “One question at a time, angel,” he said, placing a kiss on her temple. “I’ve been planning this for a while. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

She sniffled, her eyes still wet as she looked up at him. “How long?”

“Almost the entire year,” he admitted, smiling. “I started looking at the beginning of the year. Found this little one through a breeder who specializes in raising calm, sweet rabbits. I wanted one that would fit you perfectly.”

Luna hiccupped again, her hands trembling as she stroked the bunny’s floppy ears. “And you kept it a secret this whole time?”

“Of course,” he said, his tone teasing. “What kind of surprise would it be if I didn’t?”

Her bottom lip wobbled as she stared at him, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her nose. “No more crying,” he whispered. “Enjoy your bunny, okay? He’s all yours now. Just like I am.”

Luna couldn’t hold back a watery giggle, burying her face in the bunny’s soft fur. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much, Hannie.”

Jeonghan tightened his hold on her, his smile softening. “Anything for you, angel,” he murmured. “Anything.”

Luna’s fingers trembled slightly as she cradled the bunny close to her chest, her tears slowing as awe overtook her features. She tilted her head down, her full attention shifting to the soft, warm creature in her hands.

Gently, she let it rest against her lap before lifting it higher, gazing at it as though it were the most precious thing she’d ever held. Her voice dropped into a soft, cooing tone, her words as tender as the way her fingers brushed over the bunny’s floppy ears.

“Hi, little one,” she whispered, her lips trembling into a smile as the bunny’s nose twitched at her voice. “Oh my gosh, look at you. You’re so tiny… and soft. Are you real? Huh? Are you really mine?” She nuzzled her nose against the bunny’s fur, her giggles muffled by the soft fluff. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Aren’t you? Yes, you are. What’s your name, hmm? Or do you not have one yet?”

Jeonghan leaned in silently, a soft chuckle escaping him as he kissed the damp streaks of tears from her cheeks. His fingers worked gently, brushing away the strands of hair that had stuck to her skin. He smoothed her hair back as if fussing over her was second nature, his touch lingering like a feather against her temple.

Luna didn’t look up, too engrossed in her new pet, but Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I can’t believe this,” he said suddenly, his voice filled with disbelief but tinged with amusement.

Luna finally lifted her gaze to him, her brows furrowing slightly. “Can’t believe what?” she asked, her voice still soft, almost absentminded as she stroked the bunny’s fur.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “I can’t believe this made you cry harder than when I proposed to you,” he said, his tone mock serious but teasing enough to make her pause.

Her eyes widened before she burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up so unexpectedly that the bunny gave a small wiggle in her hands. She quickly steadied it, cradling it closer as she giggled uncontrollably. “That is not true!” she managed between her laughs. “You are so dramatic. I literally almost blacked out when you proposed to me!”

Jeonghan shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he brushed an invisible speck of dust from his knee. “I don’t know, Jiyeonie. You were crying pretty hard over this bunny.” He gestured to the small creature in her hands, his smirk widening. “I’m just now realizing that not only do I have to share your attention with twelve other members, but now I have to compete with… him.” He nodded toward the bunny as if it were a rival.

Luna snorted, her laughter subsiding into soft giggles as she pressed a kiss to the bunny’s head. “Him?” she repeated, her tone curious. “It’s a boy?”

Jeonghan nodded, his smirk softening into a grin. “Yeah. He’s a boy. What are you gonna name him?”

Luna tilted her head, her gaze drifting back to the bunny. She studied him intently, her lips pursing in thought as she stroked his long ears. A few seconds passed before her face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Bugs,” she declared.

“Bugs?” Jeonghan repeated, arching a brow.

“Bugs Bunny, duh,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes, as though the name were the most obvious choice in the world.

Jeonghan groaned, leaning back slightly as he placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I think I’m starting to regret getting this bunny now,” he joked, though the laughter in his voice betrayed him.

“Oh, you are not!” Luna shot back, kissing the bunny again as if to prove a point. “You love him already. Admit it.”

Jeonghan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched her dote on the bunny. His smirk returned, sly and teasing. “I’ll admit I love him under one condition,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

Luna raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “What condition?”

Jeonghan tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Every kiss Bugs gets has to be doubled and given to me.”

Luna gaped at him, her jaw dropping slightly before she burst into laughter again. “You are so ridiculous!” she said, shaking her head as she hugged the bunny closer. “I’m not keeping track of how many kisses I give him.”

Jeonghan leaned even closer, his face mere inches from hers now. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone dripping with playful charm. “I’ll keep track for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but the flush that spread across her cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, her smile never fading. “You’re impossible, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“And you love me for it, Bae Jiyeon,” he shot back, his grin softening as he reached out to brush his fingers over her cheek one last time.

Luna looked back down at Bugs, her heart full to the brim. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I do.”

Jeonghan leaned back on the couch, the smirk on his lips smug as he observed Luna holding Bugs protectively against her chest.

“I guess I won,” he said, his voice laced with playful arrogance, his eyes twinkling as he glanced down at the faint tear tracks still glistening on her cheeks.

Luna’s lips parted in disbelief before forming into a pout, her brows furrowing as she turned to face him. “Won?” she huffed, tightening her hold on Bugs, who twitched his nose curiously. “Need I remind you that you cried too? That means I was right. So technically…” She tilted her head with a cheeky grin. “We’re even.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his gaze softening as it lingered on her face. His eyes traced every detail— the way her lashes clumped together from tears, the slight swell in her lips from nibbling on them earlier, and the way her cheeks flushed as she cradled Bugs. His attention then shifted to the bunny, whose small movements brought uncontainable joy to Luna’s face.

And just like that, he felt it, a feeling that only Luna managed to make him feel— a rush of something so deep it made his chest ache in the best way.

“We both won,” he murmured, the realization striking him with an unexpected clarity.

Luna blinked, her teasing expression melting into something softer as she looked at him. “We did,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. Her lips curved into a smile that made Jeonghan’s heart stutter, and she leaned forward slowly, Bugs still nestled in her hands.

Jeonghan caught the intent in her eyes and leaned back, his smirk deepening as he allowed her to take the lead. She didn’t hesitate, closing the small gap between them to press her lips to his in a kiss so soft it felt like a whisper. Jeonghan’s hands instinctively moved, one resting lightly on her waist while the other gently cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing over her skin as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. It was slow and unhurried, a quiet exchange that spoke volumes, filled with tenderness and gratitude.

When Luna finally pulled away, her forehead resting against his for a brief moment, she opened her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Hannie. For everything. For Bugs, for always knowing what I need before I even do.”

Jeonghan smiled, his eyes searching hers as he leaned forward to press a fleeting kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I just love you. That’s all.”

Luna bit her lip, her voice soft as she replied, “I love you too. So much.”

Jeonghan brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering. “I know. Everyone in this planet might be listening to you sing your little heart out about me right now,” he teased, his grin making her roll her eyes before she kissed him on the cheek.

As they sat there, the moment of quiet intimacy wrapping around them, they both seemed to come to the same realization. Their earlier predictions about their gifts making each other cry had proven true, but as Jeonghan looked at Luna’s glowing smile and Bugs wiggling his way comfortably into her lap, another thought struck him.

It wasn’t just the gifts. It was the life they’d built together. The love that filled every crack and corner of their hearts. The way their worlds felt brighter simply because the other was in it.

“Looks like we were both right,” Luna murmured, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Bugs’ soft fur as she glanced at Jeonghan. “But it’s more than just that, isn’t it?”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes soft and full of emotion as he gazed at her. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s everything. We both won life, Jiyeonie. You’re my win.”

Luna’s breath hitched slightly, her smile growing wider as her free hand reached for his. Their fingers intertwined effortlessly, their connection as natural as breathing. “And you’re mine,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder as Bugs nestled closer to her chest. “You’ve always been mine.”

And in that moment, with the soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating the room and a warm, shared laughter lingering in the air, they both knew— there was nothing more they could ever ask for.

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[overtake]

I’m sorry we need about 5k more words of mechanic Daniel driver max pls and ty!!!

Part One

I’m actually so shocked (but pleasantly surprised and honored!) by people enjoying this verse because I almost deleted it without posting. I don’t have 5k more, but I can offer 1.2k!

I still lowkey hate this - and you can definitely tell I have no vision for where this story would go, hence why it’s just harping on the same 3 details we already knew - but it’s all yours and I hope you have a good time reading it anyway :)

Five minutes into pretending to examine an engine instead of obsess over what Max said, Daniel breaks.

“Did you mention me to Max?” he asks Cyril, trying to come across casual.

Cyril looks at him disbelievingly. “Max Verstappen is in our garage and you think I talked about you at all?”

Daniel lifts a hand to his chest and feigns being shot. “People love me, you know. Guys are all over this.”

Cyril heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Get to work, Daniel.”

Daniel’s lucky, given his condition, that everything is relatively routine today. He does three oil changes, and he could kiss those people’s feet for it.

He’s mentally preparing himself to slide under a car, wincing at much more congested he’ll be once he emerges again, when Max suddenly appears in the corner of the garage.

“Hello,” he says. He does a cute little half-wave to get Daniel’s attention.

“Hey,” Daniel says, straightening and rubbing his grimy hands on his thighs. “Cyril’s working on your car, so he’ll have any updates you need.”

“It’s not my car, just a rental,” Max dismisses. “No, I just have …” He cuts himself off, turns a sweet pink on the apples of his cheeks. “You sounded sick earlier and looked really pale. I brought you soup.”

He lifts a takeaway bag from the cafe down the street, which usually specializes in ten dollar lattes and sandwiches with names so cutesy, you have to practice five times to order without shame.

Daniel smiles at the idea of Max Verstappen, world champion, saying one of those horrible names for Daniel’s benefit. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you. Let me pay you back.”

Max shakes his head. “It’s my thanks for fixing the car.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “So what soup did you get Cyril, who’s actually doing that?”

Max scrunches his nose in disgust. “You cannot expect me to say the name Noodle Nest Paradise more than one time.”

“How many times did you laugh trying to get that out?”

Max shudders. “I pretended to speak really bad English and just pointed at the menu.”

“So you could’ve ordered multiple,” Daniel points out. Max very blatantly pretends not to hear. He focuses instead on pulling a little bag from the order and holding it up proudly, smiling a crinkly-eyed smile.

“I got you crackers!”

Eating soup with Max Verstappen is an out of body experience.

Daniel’s been eating his soup over the coffee table in the office because it felt wrong to make Max sit at the grimy, wobbly table in the closet-sized corner of the garage where Daniel and Cyril usually change and scarf down meals. This, however, means they’re stuck together on the loveseat. Max’s expensive skinny jeans knock knees with Daniel’s greasy coveralls when they get too into the conversation.

Daniel knows he’s being a terrible conversationalist, especially at first. His normal easy charisma is buried somewhere in the pile of tissues he’s burning through. He’s basically just answering Max’s rapid-fire questions about his life, his job, his family, his non-existent partner (“do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or anything?” Max had asked, and looked remarkably pleased by Daniel’s answer of no).

Daniel’s about 87% sure he’s being hit on right now. It’s a nice confidence booster given how much of a mess he looks, but it’s not like it matters. Max is Max, and Max is F1, and Max doesn’t live here.

He likes Max, though, the longer they talk. He likes his eagerness, his down-to-earth nature, his total lack of interest in discussing racing. Max delights in all Daniel’s behaviours that usually make people roll their eyes and wait for him to be done, whereas Max leans into Daniel’s dumb songs or drawn out jokes. He likes the long lashes that frame Max’s bright, happy eyes, and soft double chin he gets when he ducks his head into his laugh.

Daniel’s not sure how much time passes before Cyril comes in, but he knows his voice has faded to practically nothing, and he’s having to constantly turn to avoid coughing on Max.

Cyril’s timing is rather unfortunate, entering just as Daniel breaks into a particularly rough wheeze. Max is patting his back gently, which Cyril will definitely have words about later. Presently, however, he seems too concerned about Daniel’s wellbeing to lecture him about appropriate contact with famous customers.

“Daniel. Go home,” he orders, voice kind but firm. His tone leaves no room for argument, not that Daniel really wants to fight him on it. He’s enjoying this, but his brain and body feel as if they’re wading through a pool of thick custard.

“Are you okay to drive?” Max checks. His eyebrows are knitted in sweet concern, like Daniel actually might keel over and die in the ten-minute ride home.

“All good,” Daniel promises. He stands, then promptly has to collapse back onto the couch when black spots dot his vision.

“I’m driving you,” Cyril says firmly.

“I just stood up too fast.” Sure, he’s a little woozier than expected, but he could do this drive blindfolded and half-dead.

“I’ll drive you,” Max says. “I mean, Cyril has work to do, but I’m just sitting here.”

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me or steal my car?” Daniel rasps.

“He’s not worth kidnapping, and selling his car probably couldn’t cover an oil change for the kinds of cars you drive,” Cyril informs Max. He ignores Daniel’s protests, then pushes Daniel back down to the couch when he half-rises from it.

“Stay. I will get your keys and bag.”

The second Daniel’s brain understands that he’s off-duty, that it’s no longer expected to carry him through the day, it mostly blacks out, and everything is a blur from there.

He’s pretty confident Cyril steals his phone to call his mum, which is vaguely embarrassing but perhaps necessary given his current state. He knows Cyril gives Max directions to Daniel’s parents’ place instead of his own. He feels Max’s hands help him into the passenger seat, and he definitely mutters some fever-addled sentences on the drive. That’s about all he remembers until he wakes up in his childhood bed, shivering and sweating while his mum runs a hand through his hair and forces medicine down his throat, before he falls back asleep again.

When he finally comes to enough to make his way downstairs, he finds his parents seated at the kitchen table. His mum jumps up, forces him into a chair and fusses over him while simultaneously lecturing him about going to work sick. His dad just sits there, eyebrows half-raised, until Daniel is settled with food and water.

“So. You had an exciting day at work.”

He slides a piece of scrap paper across the table. There, under some advertisement for gardening services, is a scrawled message in red pen:

It was lovely to meet you (again). I hope the terribly named soup made you feel better! :)

- Max

Under his name, Max has scrawled a phone number.

Daniel runs his finger over the lines, feeling the imprint of each number that Max etched into the paper. It’s neatly written, far more cautious and intentional than the rest of the words, as if to ensure that no digit could be misread or smudged.

Daniel pauses, processes the full note, and double backs to the word ‘again.’

“Yeah,” Daniel croaks through the stabbing pains in his throat. He stares at the word harder, like it might reveal what the fuck Max means by again. “I guess today was pretty interesting.”

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (IV)

Chapter 4 : ‘For he gave all his heart and lost’

Hi, everyone!!! Chapter 4 is here! Lots of angst in these first chapters, but we need to get the plot fully plotting!

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2888

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Never Give All the Heart

Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss; For everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy, kind delight. O never give the heart outright, For they, for all smooth lips can say, Have given their hearts up to the play. And who could play it well enough If deaf and dumb and blind with love? He that made this knows all the cost, For he gave all his heart and lost.

W.B. Yeats

You decided to meet in a pub. Frank was staying with his brother for now, you were keeping the flat you used to share. It felt empty without him, filled with blank spaces. Clothes missing in the dresser, a shelf unused in the bathroom, empty spaces on the bookshelves. Every time you looked up while you ate, you expected to see his face and found nothing but a wooden chair instead. And it was killing you slowly, how much you missed him, how much you missed your lives tangled together, sharing space and habits and everything in between.

Frank’s brother’s place wasn’t an option to meet up, and the home he left seemed unfitting, you reckoned that it had witnessed enough farewells already. So, a neutral land it was, a pub you knew but had spent few nights at. Laughter had been shared, along with kisses and drinks, but only a few times, nothing worth crying over.

Only, when you stepped into the pub, easily spotted Frank sitting there, on a chair at a small table with one spot left empty for you opposite him, you could feel the tears rising to your eyes…

It had been two weeks, since Frank had left, and you were still in shock. Reality had started sinking in, you were beginning to understand what it truly meant to lose him. You were beginning to realise that he was truly gone. And what a terrifying thought that was…

He smiled when he saw you approaching, welcoming, like he was genuinely happy to see you. Was he though? Then why did he leave?

You had broken up your engagement, you had to announce the news to your family, had broken down on the phone with them as you did so. You had warned all the people you had invited that this was over, that you and Frank were breaking up, that there would be no wedding, after all. The humiliation was almost as painful as seeing him again. Almost as dreadful as the knowledge that you would not hesitate to take him back, you were hoping to make him change his mind still… that was how desperate you were to get your life back on track, to set it how it should be again.

You said your hellos, you smiled to each other, he seemed emotional to see you as well. You sat down and took off your jacket like you were on autopilot. Something happening outside your own mind, your own chest, your own body. You expected him to tell you about his day, to say something about sport and any of his interests, to order some drinks for you both and to ask you what you wanted to eat tonight after you got home together. Instead, he smiled, asked you if you wanted a drink, and then he looked at you in silence for a moment.

“You look well,” he said, and you congratulated yourself for the efforts you had put in earlier that evening to look somewhat presentable.

“Thanks. You too.”

It was true, he looked surprisingly well, considering he had shattered the last six years merely a couple of weeks ago.

“Thank you for meeting me tonight, it means a lot.”

“Sure, I… I’m glad you called to ask for this. I… I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

There was so much hope within this stupid, lovesick heart of yours after those words…

You gave him a weak smile, imagined him apologising and asking for forgiveness and begging you to take him back after this crazy mistake of his…

Instead, he asked you about work, you asked him about his day, you chatted for a while, dragging the moment along as if you knew already that things weren’t meant to last anyway, that he was about to break your world again, that you were wrong to hope…

… and eventually, you got to the reason behind his call, to what he wanted to get out of this conversation.

“Look, Y/N… you know you’re important to me. So important… I’m sorry about the wedding. And I’m sorry to have ended things the way I did. I reckon that I should have handled this better, ease you through it better so you wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Every word was a slide from hope to pain, a slope that got steeper and steeper, that pushed you towards the edge of a cliff, to a pit you knew you would fall into because you loved him too much not to.

“I really hope you won’t hate me. I… I know that it was sudden, I know that it might have looked like a shocking decision, and it was, even to me. I really meant to marry you when I proposed, but then, I… I just realised that we weren’t meant for each other. We weren’t meant to spend our entire lives together. And I think that’s okay, really. I still have so much love for you, it’s just… it’s just not strong enough for us to go through with this wedding. Do you understand?”

Slowly, you nodded, trying hard not to cry.

He didn’t love you enough…?

“It’s just… Sometimes, it’s a lot to be with you, to take care of you. It’s not that you’re too much to handle, that’s not what I’m saying. You’re grand, Y/N, you really are. But your career takes a lot of space, you’re moving regularly, and you just… I don’t know. I just want something else, I think. I want… I want someone else.”

He heaved a sigh, rubbing at his forehead like he was the one breaking, like he was the tired one, like it was he who suffered when you struggled not to cry, when you felt the pain of rejection and heartbreak wash over you all over again.

“I still care about you, Y/N. It doesn’t mean that all of my love for you is gone, it only means that… I… I can’t be with you romantically anymore. Do you understand? But I… Y/N, I don’t want you out of my life. I care about you too much, you are too important to me. So, would you… What would you say if I asked for us to remain friends?”

Friends… the word echoed in a mixture of horror, pain and disappointment.

Friends… you should have been about to get married, engaged, in love… and instead he wanted friendship?

It was such a blow to your pride, your self-esteem. But then you thought about it, and a glimmer of hope was alit again, foolish and sickeningly in denial.

But if you remained friends, you would keep in touch, you would keep on seeing him.

And if you remained friends, perhaps you could make him see reason, show him that you were the one he belonged with. You wouldn’t be able to do that if you didn’t talk or see each other.

Friends…

He reached for your hand across the table, sneaking his arm between his drink and yours, hand warm against your cold fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. You’re so important to me. I just… don’t think that it would work out for us if we keep on having a romantic relationship, that’s all. It doesn’t change the fact that I care about you. So much, Y/N…”

You stared at his blue eyes, the blond hair you used to run your fingers through. He was making a mistake, and that was all there was to say about it.

“Okay,” you breathed out, the word escaping without you even noticing its passing of your lips.

He raised a surprised eyebrow, and yet he had a relieved expression painted over his features.

“Really?”

“Yeah, okay. We can still be friends.”

“Oh, Y/N! You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear you say that!”

Happy…

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, forced a smile.

You would make him see reason, he was making a mistake, nothing more…

Things would get back to normal, and you would have your life back. You would have your life back…

She wanted to come over, Andrew wanted to refuse at first. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his partner, of course he longed for her company. Except, tonight, he was busy. Busy sorting out his thoughts, busy worrying about the sadness that surrounded his colleague, busy worrying about his father, whose medication had been slightly changed, busy trying to write and coming with nothing but a blank page.

It used to be easier, to fill up blank spaces. When he was younger, in his late teens to early twenties, he filled notebooks after notebooks with song lyrics and poems. When Sam and Andrew had met, it was so easy for him to write about love. He was awestruck by her all the time, and he still was, in a way. But then they had grown out of the naïve phase of youth, into proper adults; ones that thought about rent, about food, about taxes, about sacrifices, about laundry and grocery lists and the work to be done the next day. She had turned him down when he had offered for them to move in together, had always refused to speak about marriage. And Andrew tried hard to hide how much her reaction saddened him. It turned off a switch in him, the words were harder to find these days. Growing up, or rather, starting to grow older, that was tough work, tricky work. The kind that left all poetry behind.

He still wrote, the two books he had published were proof, as well as the poems he published regularly in journals. But these days, he couldn’t get a word down, and how was he supposed to communicate and let his feelings out when he struggled so much saying them out loud? Speeches had never been his strong suit, it was through the mask of metaphors, the rhythm of rimes, the cadence of alliterations that he managed to express himself. It was therapeutic, in a way.

But in the past few weeks, Andrew had not written a word. He was too worried for that. There was something off with Sam, and he didn’t know what it could be. It made him anxious. He tiptoed around her a lot these days, worried about what would happen if they started fighting over anything, no matter how small the issue. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t write, he wasn’t sure… No matter the reason, his sudden inability to produce anything even vaguely decent made him spiral into doubts and anxiety. He didn’t need that to second-guess his decisions, to doubt his own worth…

He heaved a sigh, closing his laptop, checking the time. Almost 9 p.m, Sam would soon be there. As if on cue, Elwood barked twice when a knock on the door broke the silence of Andrew’s flat.

She was early, as per usual, when he was always late to everything. It annoyed her to no end.

Andrew went to open the door, welcomed Sam with a forced smile, but she seemed not to notice. She merely hummed a hello, let him kiss her cheek, before walking inside the flat. Elwood approached, unhurried, looked up in hope to be petted. Sam granted him a few scratches, before turning away. The dog merely huffed, and walked over to Andrew, rubbing his side against his human’s leg, looking for the attention he craved for. Andrew granted it to him easily.

“How was your day, baby?” he asked Sam in a sweet tone, but she shrugged, waiting for Andrew to move out of the hallway and into the living room.

“Not much. You?”

“I’m fine, yeah.”

He wanted to talk about his research, and how he wanted to start writing a new article, how he was almost done planning out his class for Yeats’s poetry, how sad you looked still, how worried he was for his family these days. Instead, Sam claimed the conversation, and he didn’t try to fight against it so he could speak again.

“I wanted to talk to you, Andy.”

“Sure, what’s up?” he asked back, standing straighter, quitting Elwood’s petting and following Sam to sit on his sofa.

She seemed nervous, in a way she rarely was around him. He was nervous too now, had a bad feeling about all of this.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she spoke in a weak voice, he reached for her hand to reassure her.

“Straightforwardly,” he answered with a smile.

He pushed back a strand of hair behind his ear, tiredly adjusted his glasses. Slowly, she nodded, took a deep breath before speaking.

“Andy… you know how important you are to me. You’re… you’re the first man I ever truly loved, the first person I could see myself with on the long run. And I care about you, about your happiness… I care so much. And this is very hard for me to do this to you, to us, but…”

She took another deep, slow breath, and Andrew could see the tears in her eyes, the way she struggled to hold them back. He knew what was coming, didn’t want to think it true, but it was.

He knew his world was about to get shattered before she spoke the words he dreaded.

“I’ve been happy with you, genuinely happy. But this… I’m so sorry, Andy, but I think we need to break up.”

Andrew blinked at her, his brain refusing to understand her words, refusing to work now. He forced himself back to the present, forced himself to repeat her words.

Break up…

“What… What do you mean? What do you mean ‘break up’? You… you want us to take a break?”

“No, Andy. I want us to break up. For good. I’m so sorry.”

“But, I… I love you. We’re… we’re good together, we… we belong together.”

“I’m sorry, Andy. But I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

“What triggered this? Did I do something wrong? Are you angry at me? I… I can change for you. I can make things better. I can make you happy, do whatever you want me to do…”

“I’m sorry… there’s nothing to do. It’s not… it’s not you. I just feel like… we’re not on the same page, anymore. We were so young when we got together, we’ve grown into different people. I… I’m sorry.”

“Why now? What happened?”

“Nothing…”

“I know you, Sam. I know you better than anyone. I know you’re lying. What happened? What triggered this?”

“Andy…”

“I don’t want you to leave… we can make things work!”

“We can’t…”

“We can make efforts, we can…”

“I don’t want to, Andy. I’m sorry. I just… I love you, but… not enough, anymore.”

These were the words that made him break, that turned his desperate tone into silence, his begging eyes into teary ones. He started crying.

She didn’t love him anymore…

Not enough…

“But I love you…”

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

He let tears overcome him, drown him into silence. Sam was crying as well, but not as violently.

“Why? Why now?”

“I just… nothing, I just…”

But she fell silent, and Andrew wasn’t a fool.

“Is there someone else?”

She looked away, looking guilty.

This couldn’t be happening…

“We met just about two months ago. I just… I think I’m falling in love with him. And if I can love him, it means I don’t love you the way I should anymore…”

He buried his face in his hands.

This could not be happening…

He refused to ask her if she had been having an affair, Andrew knew he didn’t have the strength to hear her answer.

He was falling; falling into an endless pit and he would die once she would have left with the ground in her care.

They fought after that, he tried to hold her back. And perhaps she didn’t deserve it, but Andrew was in love, and he had thought for years that she was the one, that them, their couple, was the constant element in his life. He fought for her, there was nothing he could do. When she said she would only be happy with someone else, he let her go.

He cried all night, called in sick the next day. He answered your worried email, explaining what had happened in a clear, concise way that left out any detail. You said you were sorry. It didn’t make him feel better at all. In the evening he got so drunk he had no memory left of that night in the morning. For a moment he thought none of this had happened, the pain through his skull was too vivid for that. But then reality came back, and when he hurried to the bathroom to throw up, he wasn’t sure whether he was sick because of the remnants of alcohol in his system or because of the pain of losing her.

When she texted a few days later asking if they could still stay in touch, Andrew was too heartbroken to see the red flags. He answered yes, dreamt of having Sam back in his bed, thought about ways to win her over again, and fell asleep that night out of exhaustion and too many tears.

[rwrbficrecs]

The Monarch Haven by @redlightsandicedtea (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I found this fic through @lieselsart's wonderful illustration. Alex isn't the First Son, but his parents are high-ranking politicians. Due to serious mental health issues, he lives secluded in Texas, where he runs a mental health refuge for teens— the Monarch Haven. Secluded, until a real prince seeks refuge there. Alex isn't thrilled but still wants to help. What follows is 76k words of slow burn and domesticity! It's beautifully angsty, with a gradual and moving development. A total comfort read !!

Whiteout by HarmonyWhitlock (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Snowboarder Alex and skier Henry almost collide on the slopes, followed by a heated exchange of words. At the end of the day though, they meet at the bar and, well... This story is part of a series which is all about the CMQ-influenced trope 'In every universe'. I got all giddy with every beautiful story I read: So carefully composed and very well crafted, the emotions and attraction swept me away. Hopefully many more to come !!

I Want Candy by @vanillahigh00 (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Alex as a dad and Henry's house being his daughter's first stop on her quest for Halloween candy are the ingredients to this very sweet fic!

Tiempo de Vals by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Authentic Hispanic details (that are always one of my favorite things about this author's writing), a high school AU, and firstprince dancing- what's not to love?

Workin' On My Fitness by bananamilks (book-verse)

@na-dineee: After gushing to Pez about how hot fitness trainer Alex on Instagram is, he is actually indignant when Pez gives him a gift certificate for a training package to reach his (decidedly not) fitness goal: to be able to lift hot men onto countertops. As always, these two have the hots for each other. And the story around it is really sweet, two seconds angsty, also funny, and just delightful.

If U Seek Amy by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@dot524: Such a cute and meaningful 5+1 centering on Amy Chen and how she views the different members of the First Family. Love an outsider PoV and the sweet moments in this one.

Adrift by @milowren29 (book-verse)

@read-and-write-: An addicting pacific rim AU. I don't even go here and I fully enjoyed it, packed with action, life-threatening monsters and alex-and-henry typical obliviousness and refusal to talk about their feelings which is y'know, canon. Everyone needs to give an opportunity to this one.

In Plain Sight You Hid by @nontoxic-writes (movie-verse)

@dot524: Ever reflect deeply on why everyone hates Miguel? This story fleshes out what he did to Alex and expands on what happened during that hookup and what it had to do with Henry. This is also a study of Alex’s relationship with Henry and what made it special. An insightful and angsty (and sexy) addition to the movie canon.

the beagle, the ghost, and the wardrobe by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@suseagull04: I was immediately intrigued by this fic title's Chronicles of Narnia inspiration, and the fic itself didn't disappoint! Ghost Alex, star-crossed lovers- what more could you ask for?

Jump in with your heart first by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is a blind date that, despite a hiccup or two along the way, will make you believe in soulmates!

Foxden Park by @myheartalivewrites (book-verse)

@dot524: Really enjoyed the slow burn of this one as the story unfolded. So many fun scenes - horse riding, canoeing, sneaky rendezvous in the library. An addicting, enjoyable read!

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 4

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 4 - Socially Blocked

Little different chapter style. Hope you enjoy. Also, I have no beta so mistakes are all me.

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.8k

AO3

Chapter 3

You had joined Prentiss in her office several hours ago to go over the forensic evidence that had come in. Laptop balancing on your thighs, you compile the data and cross reference missing persons with the families that Lewis had been gently consoling until the lab techs worked their magic. This was your nightly ritual with the section chief since joining; identification and providing closure.

What you did during the day was follow her around like a fucking assistant. You were now well versed in FBI budgetary matters, regulatory concerns, and how long new policies would be put into practice. You knew there were countless mind-numbing meetings, but this was insane. Most of the meetings could be cut in half, be done over Zoom, or just not happen at all. Just fucking email one another.

Then there were piles upon piles of paperwork to sort, sign and scan and files to review sent by local law enforcement agencies asking for FBI assistance. Just briefly glimpsing some of the cases made you wonder how one could decide which case mattered more. Go after one psycho but let the less of a psycho go free for the state to handle? Some requests had to be denied general FBI involvement due to a jurisdiction juggling nightmare that needed to be sorted first.

If this was a section chief’s life, how the fuck did Brian survive being the director of the entire CIA?

The more pressing question on your mind was why Prentiss was doing her damnedest in limiting time between you and the rest of the team. Okay, yes, Prentiss didn’t know anything about you, and yes, it was difficult to delegate work to you without knowing all your capabilities, but being a special agent in the CIA meant something.

You just gave the BAU a ton of money! Least you could do something more than be a glorified secretary! Not like you expected time out in the field, you totally understood that was out of bounds, but it’s been three days like this, and it was getting on your nerves. Why were you familiarizing yourself with FBI manuals if all you were good for was be a gopher for Prentiss?

Day 1

1145

Prentiss had given you a quick tour of the bullpen leaving the conference room for last. When you enter, excited to present your sweet offerings, you saw the team was already standing and ready to break. Introductions were made quickly, with almost every team member thanking you for the food and grabbing something.

Luke grabbed a chocolate frosted long john with a grin. “Can’t wait to catch up with you when we get back!”

You blink. Back from … what?

JJ grabbed a handful of macarons with delight, already stuffing one in her mouth as she left. “Dis isz weally nice ov ya!” she said, covering her mouth to not accidentally spew crumbs at you.

Rossi was far more debonair and rounds the choices with an index finger before plucking out a glazed twist, flashing a smile. “Thanks, kid.”

You saw Garcia slipping out quickly without making eye contact.

The hell?!

You open your mouth to say more, but he looks apologetic. “We’ll talk more later. Gotta lot going on right now, but we’ll make time.”

At least Tara had the decency to stop for a few seconds to exchange simply pleasantries. “So nice to finally meet you! Rebecca says nothing but good things.”

You raise a brow and chuckle. “Really?”

Prentiss looks unconvinced as well.

She shrugs and steals a macaron. “Yes, for real. I’ve gotta lot of family interviews and sessions lined up today, but we’ll chat more later.”

Patting you on the shoulder, Tara starts to exit the conference room backwards, pointing at you with promise. “You’re gonna have to tell me all you can about that HSC* in Saxony. Later!”

You sigh with close eyes and your head falls back. These little tidbits were not helping without context for your new boss. Even before you open your eyes to look at Prentiss, you just know she is staring at you with contempt.

Yep. There it is. Just missing an eyeroll.

Without being asked, you take a seat at the table and shove the box towards Prentiss. “We were tailing ISIS members. One decided he could get away when we moved in and learned how very wrong he was about it.”

1315

Prentiss left you to read FBI procedural manuals while she went to meet the deputy director. She had thought it prudent to delay you two crossing paths for as long as possible considering he was not happy with either of you. It was nice to hear that you had something in common with Prentiss. The tiny scrap of connection was something, no matter how pitiful. And you knew Prentiss was happy to upset Bailey.

This leaves you alone for a short time and you decide to use it wisely and check in on Garcia. It was really bothering you why she ignored you earlier today. Yeah, the team was busy with the Sicarius case, but everyone else had acknowledged you as they hurried off. Surely the bold color choices of her ensemble meant she was outgoing and not shy. You didn’t even make polite eye contact.

So, you go by instinct and grab a few left over macarons and position them with purpose on a white paper plate before heading to what you learned was The Lair.

Aware of not barging in on a tech’s work, unless you wanted to have your head bit off, you knock and wait.

“Entrer!’ you hear through the door and smile.

You open the door and poke your head in with a playful grin. “Hey, Garcia.”

The flurry of typing abruptly stops and you see her stiffen. Your grin quickly falls into a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You fully move into the room, noting the same outlandish decor that matches Garcia’s clothing. “I hope I’m not bothering you?” you say hopefully.

“Nope!” She pops the p and goes back to typing. By a cursory glance on what was on the screens, yeah, you had no idea what she was working on.

Garcia said nothing more but the stiff body language and her outright ignoring you once again, made it clear you upset her. Pushing her at this moment would only cause the divide to widen. You barely know each other.

“Well, I saw you didn’t take any treats and brought them to you. Probably hard getting away while you’re …”

“Cataloging important data,” she said quickly, still not looking at you.

“Yeah, so …” you look around and see an open spot on the table to her right. You are careful to not move anything when you put the plate down next to a fuzzy neon green turtle. “Enjoy when you-“

“Hey Garica, I’m jus-“ Prentiss’ fond tone quickly dissolves to accusatory. “You’re supposed to be in my office.”

“And I took a break. That a problem?” you challenge, taking in Prentiss confident posture, hand out before her with the other in her suit pants pocket. She cut quite the authoritative figure.

Garcia keeps typing away but slower so she can concentrate on you and Prentiss.

“No, but I’d appreciate you leaving the team alone while they’re working.” The words sound like a suggestion, but the tone was an order.

“Yeah, sure,” you concede, again, not wanting to cause an unnecessary argument. But first, you bow to the back of Garcia sitting in her chair. “Bon appetit!”

You rise and move pass Prentiss, both of you locking gazes and it ticks you off you had to look away since you were the one leaving.

“Oh, darn it!” whimpers Garcia. “Why?!”

Alarmed, Prentiss walks over to her with concern. “What’s wrong, Penelope?”

With a deeply etched sullen look on her face, she shows Emily the plate you had left. It was a macaron smiley face. One eye was pink, the other blue, and the smile was purple. You chose the bright colors on purpose.

“Why'd she have to do something this cute?!” she complains. “I’m not supposed to like her!”

1750

You roll your head working out the stiffness that settles in your shoulders from being hunched over most of the day on Prentiss’ couch going over manuals and signing off on orientation documents. You had tried various positions to find any source of comfort once joints began to ache. You sat on your ass with feet on the floor, legs on the couch, cross one leg, then the other, then had to stretch them along the couch. Then you said fuck it and placed the laptop on the cushion and laid supine while working and then to top it off, you sat on the floor with the laptop on the couch like a desk not giving any fucks what Prentiss thought.

She offered the couch, not her desk, to work on, and you didn’t want to get all up in her business setting up shop across from her. She’d probably shoot you if you decided to leave for a desk in the bullpen. And oddly enough, when it appeared you were going to get up, she engaged in questions about what you were reading or if you had any concerns. All sterile and by the book, but with suspicious brown eyes trying to figure you out.

It was only day one and you were willing to play the game, not letting her get to you. All in all, it really was a typical first day of boring bullshit. Just without a cubicle.

Eh, you had suffered far worse with even more irate coworkers and direct supervisors. But this felt different. Maybe Brian was right and you weren’t made for the general population. And yes, that meant the people at Quantico.

You weren’t kidding that Prentiss was a legend when you made that quip. Faking her own death to protect that kid and her team was a brilliant self-sacrificing move that you deeply respected. Then as you dug deeper into the team’s background, you gained a deeper respect for the BAU’s work, dedication, and the trauma they’ve been through to keep the people of your country safe.

Of course, you honed in on Prentiss’ work since she was your superior. One assumed if you were CIA or former CIA everyone knew each other and that simply wasn’t the case. While Prentiss was infiltrating Doyle’s criminal organization, you were gathering intel in Afghanistan on al-Qa’ida's operations. You two worked very different operative circles.

Despite your specializations never intersecting professionally until now, on paper, you two should at least get along and have something to talk about then just … whatever this was in her office right now. You both were driven, intelligent women who were dedicated to the people on your team and would protect them at all costs. Your skill sets were complementary and overlapped with being seasoned international operatives, you spoke several languages, focused on counter terrorism, and were awarded many commendations for mission successes and demonstration of skill sets.

But here you are, sitting on the floor of her office like you were her kid finishing homework.

“You should probably head home.”  

You glance over your shoulder and scowl, seeing Prentiss was looking down at a file and not you.

“I don’t mind staying and catching up with all this. Same thing I’d be doing at the apartment. The lab reports are important to review ASAP.” You didn’t want to correct her about what home was and wasn’t.

You look at the files cluttering the desk and cross your lips in thought. “Need any help? Granted, I’m not savvy enough yet on all the FBI lingo but paperwork’s still a bitch however you cut it.”

That made her look up at you. She was motionless as she considered your proposal and your earnest face.

“Thank you, but no.” She looks down again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” After you salute, you stand up and stretch, hearing your knees pop. You then grab your laptop and manuals, tucking them under your arms securely.

Note to self, bring a backpack.

You are polite as you walk by, offering a nod she didn’t appear to see. “Night, Prentiss.”

She hums noncommittally but as you drag your eyes away from her desk, you notice something that provides a glimmer of hope.

On a napkin that had been tucked out of view near one of the file stacks was a half-eaten red macaron.

Day 2

0630

You came to Quantico early with a bottle of Diet Coke in hand and your black and grey backpack secure around both shoulders, ready to tackle the day before anyone else got here.

Yet you see a movement coming from Prentiss’ office window and have to stop. She was already here? You squint in thought and presume she had stayed late and came in early – basing this assumption on her work ethic and how every good leader worked themselves ragged on little sleep.

You down some more pop and climb the stairs to her office, gently knocking. She opens the door and you raise a brow at her because she was wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“What are you doing here?” she asks with surprise accusation.

“Wanted an early start. What’s your excuse?” you probe gently.

She thins her lips and steps aside as a silent invitation to come inside. “Sicarius.”

Prentiss didn’t have to say anything further for you to understand the unspoken. She had no one to go home to, so why worry about time and just bury herself in work. And by the time Prentiss realized what time it was, she might as well stay in her office and sleep. She probably had a change of clothing in the closet, and it was easy to freshen up in one of the locker rooms. It was a more productive use of her time than driving home to do the same thing and come right back here. Avoid all that traffic.

You should know. You’ve done it yourself many times.

“Fair enough,” you say without judgement as you drop your backpack on the couch. “Does the team know?”

She reaches for the white FBI seal decorated coffee mug on her desk and frowns. “Know what?”

“That you stay here sometimes.” You knock back several gulps of pop before setting the bottle down on the side table.

After a moment of consideration while sipping her coffee, she looks to you with a narrowing gaze. “No.”

You nod, understanding the silent request. “Secret’s safe with me.”

1233

You were grabbing a cup of coffee for an afternoon pick me up, when you hear slow purposeful footsteps coming closer.

“Like a little coffee with your cream there, kid?” Rossi jokes, coming to stand beside you.

You chuckle. “I do. Bonus if it’s French Vanilla.”

He regards you with wizened eyes, but you could tell he was exhausted with how often he blinks. “How long have you been CIA?”

Oh here we go.

“Long time.” It wasn’t a precise answer, but it also wasn’t a lie.

“Sounds like me and the FBI.” His eyes twinkle with mirth.

“Hey, I’m not that old,” you answer with a grin before taking a sip of coffee.

He laughs as you swallow and continue. “You know, it’s probably not a surprise I know your work, Mr. Writer.”

Rossi acknowledges with a nod. “No, this does not come as a surprise at all.”

You hum, nodding. “Broken Child was the first one I read. Though, I did follow your work with the Gideons closely.”

He smiles with delight. “Really?” Rossi pauses and gestures for you to follow him to continue this conversation elsewhere. You could tell he was fascinated by this. “How far back?”

“Oh, pretty far. As you know, your guys’ work wasn’t all BAU related.”

“True. The CIA did take part of our research for profiling training. And to use for psych evals on operatives.” He smiles. “Am I getting close?”

“Definitely warm.” You smile back. “It was part of my training.”

“You’ll have to tell me more.”

And just as things were becoming interesting with a non-Prentiss member of the BAU, she has to come and ruin it. It’s like the woman had a sixth sense when you were getting too close to one of her teammates.

“Hey, Dave. I need you in the conference room. JJ and Luke have an update on our unsub in Texas.”

“Right.” He holds out his hand, which you take, and he gently squeezes. “I look forward to continuing this later.”

Your smile was bright. Working with Rossi was a perk of agreeing to this. You never thought you’d have the chance to have face to face time with someone who wrote the blueprints for training you, again.

“Yeah, me too.”

He keeps your hand for a moment longer before letting go and looking at Prentiss. “You sure the kid can’t just listen in?”

You try not to look eager and utterly fail. You just know you got the sad puppy dog eyes going. Which, of course, doesn’t work on the leery section chief. “Whitlock has promised to help me with paperwork. Isn’t that right?”

Fucking hell! She’s using generosity from last night as an excuse to keep me busy. ARGH!

Of course, you’re not going to call her out on it as you really did offer to help and meant it. You manage to keep the disappointment hidden from your voice and raise your cup to her. “Indeed, I did.”

“You can start with scanning the reports on top of my desk calendar.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you salute carefully with your coffee hand and wander off.

As you are leaving, Rossi looks to Prentiss with a knowing look. “You do know she might be able to help us with the case. You just don’t want her to.”

Emily heard the unspoken question of why. “We barely know anything about her. I don’t need a wildcard fucking anything up.”

“Emily. Come on. She’s a seasoned CIA operative. We could pick her brain while she’s here instead of hiding her away in your office. Actually use her as a consultant.”

“You just like her because she read your books,” she fires back sarcastically.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point…”

1435

Whitlock: I hate this place

You were chatting with Brian on the CIA secure network on your laptop instead of your phone to avoid making Prentiss press as to what you were doing. You even silenced the chat notifications

Korogoth: It’s only the second day.

Whitlock: All I’m doing is reading and paperwork :(

Whitlock: Prentiss keeps socially blocking me!

Korogoth: What does that even mean?

Whitlock: I’m stuck in her office all day and when I need to go do something, she’s always up my ass. And when I’m free and have time to chat the team up, she magically shows up and stops it. It fucking sucks!

Whitlock: Stuffs coming in with the big case and I get to know nothing.

Whitlock: So all I do is read the FBI shit, which I know I need to do and scan in shit. I’m a over qualified secretary

Whitlock: UGH

Korogoth: Regretting it?

Whitlock: Yes

Whitlock: No

Whitlock: Maybe. Helping the families find closure is important tho.

Whitlock: And … I got to speak to Rossi for a sec

Korogoth: … and?

Whitlock: I told him I was a big fan :D

Korogoth: LOL really?

Whitlock: Why is that so funny?!

Whitlock: :P

Korogoth: What did you talk about?

Whitlock: That I read his books and papers.

Whitlock: With the Gideons

Korogoth: *facepalm*

Korogoth: Tread carefully missy.

Whitlock: ;)

Present Day

1145

JJ had returned earlier this morning with Luke and was now sitting with Garcia at her desk in the bullpen. They were focused on whatever was on Garcia’s computer and were animatedly discussing something about a message app behind a weather one.

You start to head over there but Prentiss comes in with Bailey and the deputy director makes a bee line right for you.

Ah, fuck.

You beat him to the introductions and hold out your hand towards him. “Hello Deputy Director Bailey. Special Agent Whitlock.”

“Yes, I know who you are.” He does not take your hand, and you curl it into a fist before dropping it. “I’m surprised it’s taken us this long to be formally introduced.” His tone was dripping with malice as he scrutinizes Prentiss.

Before Prentiss can react, you jump in to defend her. You hate high profile dickwards like him. “Well, there’s a lot going on with orientating me to FBI standards. Can’t go all CIA on your protocols.” You smile patronizingly. “Gotta be by the book, right?”

“Despite her unorthodox addition to the team, it’s prudent her training remains up to FBI standards,” Prentiss adds while Bailey attempts to stare you down.

He wasn’t even pathetically cute. Just … pathetic. The deputy director’s appearance was far too clean cut and pristine. He didn’t have that disgruntled tone that revealed years of field work that jaded an agent. There was no desensitized look in his eyes, just bureaucratic contempt.

“I’m glad to hear that. It takes months for an agent to go through training at Quantico, Whitlock. You wouldn’t want to diminish their hard work with the quick pass you’ve gotten.”

You smile sweetly.

What an asshole.

“We’re all on the same side, even though we’re on different teams, Deputy Director.” You lean forward with promise. “I won’t besmirch the good name of the FBI.”

Then your eyes drag over to Prentiss’ and soften. “I’m here to help.”

1345

You see the team assembled in the bullpen and have no idea what they’re talking about because you are in Prentiss’ office sorting paperwork. Your sincere invitation for Prentiss to trust you when Bailey was here was ignored.

1437

You are slowly dying inside sitting in on a budget meeting with Prentiss …

1634

… and then an advisory meeting with the DOJ. Too bad Rebecca wasn’t here but then that would be socializing.

You two chatted briefly after your first day and made a promise to properly catch up when you could. With your schedules, it’ll be difficult but with how things are going. Well, more her schedule than yours …

1930

You come back from your introspection that had occurred over the last few days and try to focus on the unfinished email you were drafting for Lewis. The problem is that the words remain blurry, and you are unable to concentrate to type the rest of your thoughts. Your thoughts are swimming around the fact that in the three days you have been at Quantico all you've been is snubbed by the woman currently ignoring you at her desk.

You close your laptop and rise to take a seat across from Prentiss. Her mouth hangs open, with what you presume would be a line of questioning as to where you were going to go, and instead found you seated before her. Your boldness took her by surprise.

“Ah, yes?” she asks cautiously. “Something wrong with the lab reports?”

She was well aware if you had an issue with the reports, you would have said something from the couch. As you have done before.

“No. Just, you.”

You know you should be more patient like Brian encouraged you to be. Let Prentiss take the lead and integrate you into the unit. But you weren’t stupid. You can read the room, and the room wanted you far away from the members of the BAU.

Prentiss straightens up with wide eyes at the audacity of your words. “Excuse me?”

“No, you’re not excused. Not unless you can tell me why you’re keeping me all to yourself,” you respond flippantly.

She licks the back of her bottom teeth before it drags along her lower lip. Oh yes, Prentiss is ready to throw down with you. You see how her pupils blow wide at being provoked and she caps her pen before her. “All right. You want to do this? Let’s do this.”

The pen drops, as does the pretense before you.

“I don’t know you. But I do know I can’t trust you. Anyone I can’t trust is a danger to my people and therefore, you get to stay the hell away from them.”

You throw your hands up in celebration. “Finally! A real conversation.” You lower your arms and lean back, resting a leg over the opposite knee. “I’m sorry I can’t be completely forthcoming about everything about me. But that’s not my call. My shit’s sealed for a reason but it’s not because I did anything illegal. I'm sure that's what you're worried about."

“Then why did you need a lawyer?” she presses.

Fuck.

“I can’t say.”

She shakes her head with displeasure. “Of course you can’t. Because good agents don't need help covering up their messes.”

“Oh come the fuck on, Prentiss. Wilson’s a good person. A good lawyer. She helped me because …” You grit your teeth because you need to collect your thoughts before you say too much. You inhale deeply and uncross your legs to lean forward, gesturing with open hands for understanding. “… because it was a call I had to make. Follow orders and have people die. Or I did what I did. Which I was absolved of, ya know. That's gotta count for something?"

Without knowing the exact circumstances of what you did, you weren’t sure if Prentiss would care or not. You could have disobeyed orders because they were truly the wrong call or your superior was compromised in some way, or this was a cover up because you fucked up. You are hoping that she thinks the former because of dropping Wilson’s name as a good person and lawyer. Which is all true!

You watch as she subtly shakes her head, at war with her thoughts. “But there’s nothing about you. You barely exist. I can’t just accept you if there's nothing to back up your claims. So, you’re a means to an end for me. For the BAU.”

Wow. Pretense is so gone now ...

“You know, I’ve been thinking of myself as your highly paid secretary, but hey,” you roll your eyes, “let’s go with CIA sugar mama.”

“See that,” she points at you with indignation. “That right there’s why I can't take you seriously. You’re fucking lack of respect. Making jokes that are way outta line.”

“Oh fuck you and your wine addiction.” Yeah, you went there, gesturing to the half empty bottle. The woman downed a one a night and that was only what you saw. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had more. “Least I use humor to mask the trauma of my past instead of drowning it with alcohol and work.”

“How dare you make fucking assumptions about me,” she snaps, voice raising to meet yours.

You audibly scoff and rise, Prentiss doing the same. “You’ve been doing it the whole time since we met, let alone profiling me. Which I get, since you don’t know shit about me. But at least I was trying to get along with you despite the fucking cold shoulder. I ain’t expecting to be best friends but you don’t need to be a bitch about the situation.”

You turn around to grab your things, knocking over several empty Diet Coke bottles that you balanced on the couch arm.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Leaving your delightful presence.” You stuff your backpack with your laptop and books. “I’ve had more than enough of this shit.”

You miss the moment of panic on Prentiss’ face since your back was turned. Her mind was reeling with the ramification of what this could mean. Are you leaving for good? If you weren’t working with the BAU on paper the contract would be in breach. Pride kept her from asking you to clarify as she watches you storm off and slam the door behind you.

Emily grits her teeth as she leans over her desk, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She gives up, the anxiety of the situation she finds herself in too much and pulls the top left drawer open of the desk to get the pack of cigarettes stashed there. She quickly lights up and takes a long drag off the cigarette, unable to fight her trembling lips as she blows the smoke free.

“Fuck…”

What was she doing to do?

*High Speed Chase

Chapter 5

[tinydefector]

Hello Tiny, I hope you are doing fine and well. I wanted to thank you for all your writing, it is so engaging to read.

I don't have any request, but I do have a scenario regarding Tarn and his human parenting moments.

The twins are trying to say their first words, one of them babbling "Da... Da". Both parents looking with adoration, and finaly listen "Damush".

Tarn is perplexed, his human is just about to explain they tell the twins little stories using his previous names, until the other sparkling speaks out loud "Gluiitch!".

Tarn is petrified, his partner doesn't need to see beyond his mask to notice Tarns jaw drop expression.

Minutes later both sparklings look at their human parent, speaking out "Par-Par". Both parents responsing with "Awwwww".

Thank you again for your incredible writing and drawings. If you got the time to read this, I just wanted to tell you, you are an extrordinary and talented person.

Omg Aurox, that sounds. God damn cute. But like can you imagine the panic. But also when you think about how cybertronians hand their own dialects and sparklings also are rather well versed in the 'chitter' talk which works off cybertronian fields outside of their races different languages.

I can see Tarn being rather used to them using the chitter glyphs for him which don't really shock him but the moment your potential baby that is being raised an essentially a bilingual family calls you by your name in Cybertronian or much less a human language out loud it has a rather big shock value to it. But even more so if he hasn't told them those names and his lover hasn't but they have access to parts of his memory's from data transfers from when they were still being carried by their 'carrier'.

The true horror when Tarn realises 'frag my Sparklings can access key memories from my past!'

And then, on the other hand, his human lover just thinks its their babies trying to learn words and mix cybertronian up with their own language. But the first time they get called Par-Par makes them nearly weep in delight. They are just blissfully unaware of the fact their bitlets have eventually become part of Tarns worst nightmare, and his only hope is as they grow older, the memory access fades as they begin filing and saving their own.

(Loge the idea of Tarn peaceful living his life where no one remembers or knows his past, then his kids give him the big innocent eyes of. 'I know your secrets'

________

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[arriettyspin]

Since we're posting our Spider-Verse headcanons, Gwen most certainly grew up watching old Barbie movies and now refuses to admit it

It was the only stereotypically girly thing she was into from a young age, and watching 12 Dancing Princesses aged three years old was the push her father needed to get her into ballet

When she and Miles sit with the toddler Billie Mariana watching Life In The Dreamhouse, Gwen can't hide her distaste for this newfangled modern adaptation.

One day she decides that it's time to introduce Billie to the classics, and pulls up at the Morales household with her perfectly preserved VHS tapes.

Billie is delighted, laughing at the creepy animals with their glassy stares and goofy songs, twirling her pink skirts with the princesses on-screen.

At first, Miles laughs at the corniness of it all. But later on he finds himself invested in the simple stories (and Gwen finds his impressions of the melodramatic princes oddly romantic)

Gwen is sure that the animation was not this bad when she was younger? But she enjoys herself anyway, reliving the childhood a life as Spider-Woman tore from her too early.

So much warmth between them... it's here she learns what a family should be like; leaning on Miles's shoulder, Billie plonked at their feet and not a gun in sight.

[makethatelevenrings]

Rest // D. Grayson x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: illness, mentions of child assassins, not Titans!verse I just think Brenton is pretty

Summary: You’re feeling sick but refuse to admit you are. Damian intervenes and makes sure Dick is aware of the problem.

This is apart of Assassin!verse that you can read here

You had been shot, stabbed, poisoned, thrown through windows, and broken numerous bones, but for some reason, this sore throat was going to be the end of you. When you woke up that morning, it started as a simple scratchy throat that had bloomed into some demonic rash of pain that coated your throat and made every swallow feel like knives scraping against your skin.

“You are unwell,” Damian observed. You ignored him in favor of jabbing the small needle through the taut fabric and tugging it down. Cass had recommended embroidery as a hobby you should try out and you found that it was soothing, fun, and an outlet for you. After spending years surrounded by silence and met with anger if you spoke out of turn, sometimes you needed to retreat from the constant noise of the Wayne Manor.

While you had your apartment in Bludhaven, some problems in Gotham required the both of you, and Haley of course, to stay at the Manor for a few days.

Where two of the family members attended school and the others interacted with the public every single day.

So, of course, you got sick.

You stabbed the point into the fabric once more and pulled it taut. You hoped that Tim would like the screaming possum design you were making for him. He loved sending you those memes and delighted in the fact that he gets to teach you about memes and pop culture.

“I’m fine.” You internally winced at how rough your voice sounded. Nothing screamed “picture of health” more than sounding like you were choking on gravel. Your head pounded, the ache radiating at your temples and along the sides, and your nose felt like cotton was shoved up there. All in all, you felt miserable. All you wanted to do was go back to the queen sized mattress shoved in Dick’s old bedroom and sleep for a thousand years.

But Dick, Bruce, and Tim were all making appearances at a gala to collect intel and you needed to stay awake so you could assist if something happened. What if the gala was under attack? Or what if they needed a quick getaway? Or what if-

The couch dipped as Damian crawled onto the cushion next to you. He settled in comfortably, Alfred the cat resting comfortably in his arms, and blinked up at you with those wide eyes of his. You set your embroidery down and gave him your full attention.

While Dick was your closest friend, companion, and lover, Damian understood you better than anyone aside from Cass. Damian knew what it was like to be trained from a young age. When Dick first brought you to Wayne Manor, bloodied and weak and still as fiercely on guard, Damian was the first person to gain your trust aside from Dick. And if this kid was your boyfriend’s brother, then dammit, he was your little brother too.

“When I first came to live with Father, he sat me down one day and told me that it is one thing to know when to be on guard and ready. But it’s another thing to live your life always on edge waiting for the next attack. Father helped me realize that I was living my life feeling like I was never safe made me sure that I would never be safe. He assured me that he and the family would never let anything happen to me.”

Your mind was cloudy with fatigue and fever, but you nodded slowly as you tried to grasp what he meant. “Okay…?”

Damian turned to face you fully, the little tuxedo cat in his lap snuggling in closer to his owner’s arms. “We would never let anything happen to you or to one another. You can rest.”

You swallowed painfully against your aching throat and offered him a tight smile. “Thank you, Dami. I’m fine.”

He huffed and climbed off the couch. “You’re not fine. I am telling Pennyworth.”

“Don’t!” The exclamation left you so quickly that he looked at you with more concern than before. “He’s busy right now. He doesn’t need to be bothered with a little sniffle. Please don’t tell him. I swear I’m fine.”

He stared at you, doubt written all over his face, and then sighed. “You are more stubborn than Richard. It’s a miracle the two of you get anything done.”

With that, Damian and Alfred the cat exited the room. Silence fell over the leather furniture and aging books once more. You inhaled deeply, fighting against the stabbing pain of your sinuses, and focused on your embroidery once more.

It wasn’t a half hour before the door to the library flew open. Dick strode in, impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. Damian. That little rat.

“I’m fine!” you insisted. Damian peeked out from around the doorframe and you, the adult, stuck your tongue out at him. He merely smirked and disappeared, probably to go find his next victim.

“Richard, I am fine,” you snapped. He ignored your protests and laid the back of his hand against your cheek before doing the same to your forehead. You shuddered at the cool touch of his skin against yours and he immediately stepped back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dick demanded.

“Because I knew you would blow it out of proportion and make a big deal out of nothing,” you retorted.

“You’re burning up. And Damian said your lungs rattled a bit when you took a breath.”

“Damian’s a trained liar.”

“Stop with the bullshit!” His outburst caused you to pause. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. You had been in much worse condition than a little cold.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” you said quietly. Therapy with Dinah was helping you express your emotions, as she said. It helped in times like this. Dick’s face crumpled and then he pulled on the mask of assuredness that you were used to seeing. He crouched down so you were face to face rather than him towering over you.

“You don’t have to act like everything is fine, Buttercup. You’re allowed to let your guard down. You’re allowed to get sick.”

“But I can’t,” you blurted out. “If I’m sick and you or one of the others needs me-”

“We have legions of people that can help us,” he interrupted. Dick reached up to gently cup your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You are allowed to rest.”

“My head hurts,” you admitted.

He smiled that crooked grin of his and you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. He stroked gentle lines across your face and of course he was still there once you opened your eyes once more.

“I’m tired.”

He stood, his hand falling from your cheek and entangling itself with your free hand. You set the embroidery down on the coffee table and stood. Before you could take one step, Dick swept you into his arms and started down the hall towards the bedrooms.

“You realize that I’m going to coddle you until you’re back to normal?”

You tightened your grip on his neck and grinned. “Can we watch Riverdale?”

“I’m going to throw Timmy off of a fucking roof for introducing you to that show.”

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[carlos-in-glasses]

✨ The Wonder of It ✨

By @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses and @ladytessa74

3 chapters, rated M. Now live on Ao3

To @thisbuildinghasfeelings on your birthday - Lemon, Tessa and I are delighted to bring you The Wonder Of It. (There are lots of easter eggs in there for you. We hope you'll enjoy finding them and reading these stories.)

Thank you, Anne, for being such a lovely friend, cross-stitcher and fandom archivist. We hope you're having the best day!

Fic Summary: As Carlos comes to terms with his relationship with his father, he realises he's ready to become one himself. Over time he and TK begin the adoption process and prepare to meet their baby boy. But even as they settle into family life with Elijah, Carlos knows that the past won't stay there. When his father's unsolved murder comes back to the forefront and puts his son in danger, Carlos will do anything to protect his family. But is it enough?

Chapter 1 by @lemonlyman-dotcom - I Know It’s Love That’s Got Me Feeling Okay

Chapter Summary: A year and a half after their wedding, Carlos and TK are settling into their marriage, and Carlos surprises TK with a trip to a Canadian mountain resort for his 31st birthday. Set against a majestic backdrop of snow-capped mountains, vast star-filled skies and the wonder of his husband’s unshakable love, Carlos realizes that he’s finally at peace with his father’s passing and their turbulent relationship, and he begins to understand that maybe fatherhood isn’t something one ever feels truly ready for. But with his soulmate by his side and their found family at their backs, he feels ready to begin exploring their options.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2 by @carlos-in-glasses - In My Father's Footsteps

Chapter Summary: It’s Carlos’ 34th birthday, and while TK is determined to celebrate, Carlos is too preoccupied to care. In three months’ time, they will bring their newborn son home – and there’s a lot that needs to be dealt with. As the day passes, the couple fix up their house and work through their insecurities about impending fatherhood. Luckily, they make a pretty good team. 

Read on Ao3

Chapter 3 by @ladytessa74 - Lingering in Happiness

Chapter Summary: As Carlos and TK trade off Elijah's care, as per their agreement, TK returns to work at the firehouse. The day before the tenth anniversary of Carlos' father's murder - unsolved all these years - Carlos takes Elijah to the Reyes ranch for a mini vacation while TK is stuck at work. But even as Elijah plays with the horses, danger looms. Carlos may find out what really happened to his father, but what will it cost him?

Find the official playlist for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QbUoYbapr8LX0t5sEl2fG?si=uQJYbI0ZS2Ku7NnPxDHUHQ&pi=u-u7xlJrlwTZGP

Huge thank you to Tessa for opening up her glorious Elijah Verse to Lemon and I to play around in. It's been a pleasure working and conspiring with you both to create this fic for Anne! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[20kmemesunderthesea]

AMC's Nautilus

Action, political intrigue, plot twists and a healthy amount of sea monster skirmishes:

These are just some of the many reason why even those unfamiliar with the works of Jules Verne will find "Nautilus" to be an engaging SciFi adventure series.

Here are my (spoiler-free) thoughts on the show.

Note: as I write this, "Nautilus" is airing only on SVT: This is How I Watched it Living Outside of Sweden

When I heard that there was going to be a TV series about Captain Nemo's backstory, I was mightily aprehensive. The main reason for this apprehension was the mere fact that Captain Nemo's past is so dark and tragic. Thankfully, the series begins after the horrific events of the 1857 rebellion and just as the Nautilus is launched. What happened to Nemo's family is shown in flashbacks which explain the events without being graphic.

When I began the show, I honestly had very low expectations. I didn't really expect to like it. To my delighted asonishment, it turned out to be one of the best film tributes to Jules Verne I've ever seen - no hyperbole.

Throughout the series, there are fight scenes, periodic depictions of people bleeding and a couple "blink-and-you'll-miss-it" innuendo jokes, so I wouldn't watch it with a small child, but I think it would be appropriate to watch with most young teenagers (13+).

I believe both well-read Jules Verne fans and those who've hardly heard the name "Captain Nemo" will enjoy the intriguing storyline, likable characters and aesthetic scenery. There are many other factors which made me fall in love with "Nautilus" as well:

The Man of the Seas

The character of Captain Nemo has always facinated me. I was blown away by how perfectly and accurately Captain Nemo was portrayed in this series. Shazad Latif, in my opinion, is an immaculate Captain Nemo and he really brought the character to life with all his complexities. Out of all the film portrayals of Captain Nemo I've seen, I'd have to say his has been by far my favorite.

Tributes to Indian History and Culture

I'm American an my husband is Indian. He and I were both very impressed with the way in which Indian culture and history were presented. I want to see more shows like this to teach our son about his heritage. 

Many of the action scenes reminded me of South Indian cinema. In one episode there is a scene where the Nautilus crew is playing cricket against some Englishmen, which may seem a little disconnected from the rest of the story, but Bollywood fans may recognize it as a delightful tribute to "Lagaan."

The Writers Were Well-Verse in Vernian Lore

Although the story wasn't 100% accurate to the book, the writers obviously had read Verne's books and knew the nuances of Nemo's story and background quite throughly.

There were certain details which made me excited, such as when Nemo has an enigmatic exchange with an Englishman in which they greet each other warmly and seem to be thanking each other for...something. Nemo ends the conversation by saying, "Give my regards to Phileas!"

In Verne's other classic, "Around the World in 80 Days," Princess Aouda is the widow of the Raj of Bundelkhand. Since Jules Verne often dropped little hints that his books existed in the same universe, I always wondered if Aouda and Nemo were distantly related, since Bundelkhand is Nemo's kingdom of origin.

A question is posed: in this conversation, was Nemo thanking the Foggs for saving someone he cared about? This is the first time I've ever seen anyone address the detail that Aouda and Nemo might be relatives.

Tributes to the artwork of Alphonse de Neuville and Édouard Riou

I noticed several shots which were obvious tributes to the first-edition illustrations of Jules Verne's classics, such as Captain Nemo standing on the submarine deck with his spyglass, and the map of Lincoln Island on a cave wall. Those details absolutely thrilled me! 

Everything I've Ever Wanted in a Verne-Inspired TV Series - Except for That Cliffhanger!

Everything about this show absolutely floored me. It was everything I could have hoped for in a Captain Nemo TV series...and then it ended.

Such a well-done series ending with fairly significant loose ends felt like a punch in the gut more forceful than the maelstrom itself. I've been trying not to let it overshadow the rest of the show. I wish with all my heart that there could be a season two!

If anyone's curiosity gets the better of them, I compiled a list HERE of questions I desperately want to know the answers to. I hope someone may be able to answer my questions one day!

I want NEED more!

While I'm still coping with my post-series let down, I find myself pining away for more shows like this; shows based off of classic adventure novels which honor the spirit of the origional author.

I want shows which are imaginative, exciting and engaging, but have snippets of real-life science, culture and history woven in. Incidentally, I daresay these are the same elements which make the stories of Jules Verne himself so timeless.

[thepaleys]

Vladimir Paley at the Corps des Pages - Part 1

But Volodia's childhood was soon to be over. The grand duke wanted his younger son to follow the dynastic tradition of an army career, and in that same year, 1908, the little Count von Hohenfelsen became a student at the Corps-des-Pages, the Saint Petersburg military school for aristocratic youngsters. Half-ignored by his imperial relatives, he lived in the house of his tutor Colonel Alexander Nikolaiveich Fenu. Both Colonel Fenu and his wife Alya Vladimirovna were very kind to the boy. For Vladimir, suddenly deprived of the loving atmosphere of his family, and forced to face an unknown world, his first days in the Corps-des-Pages were dreadful. He had no military vocation, spoke poor Russian and felt completely out of place in the often rude environment of the school. In his letters to his family, he complained bitterly about his life in the barracks, remembered his Parisian days with nostalgia and dreamed to get out of the school to visit exotic and legendary places. He longed for Easter, summer and Christmas vacations when he was allowed to spend with the family in France or traveling to varied places in Western Europe.

Throughout his stay in the Corps-des-Pages, Volodia continued privately to school himself in painting and music. And it was around 1910 during his first years in the dreaded school, when the young Count von Hohenfelsen started to write poetry, a vocation that never would abandon him. His mother wrote: "Ever since the age of thirteen Vladimir had been writing delightful verses… Each time he returned home his poetic talent displayed itself more decidedly… He availed himself of every free moment to devote his mind to his cherished poetry. By temperament a dreamer, he observed everything and nothing escaped his subtle, watchful attention… He loved nature ardently. He went into ecstasy over everything God had created. A moonbeam inspired him, the scent of a flower gave him an idea for a poem. He had a prodigious memory. What he knew, what he had time to read in his short life, was truly marvelous. Vladimir wrote his first verses in French, the language most familiar to him at that time. The few ones published by Jacques Ferrand in his biography of Grand Duke Paul (Agonie, Les miettes, Indifference, Chanson de Therese, Le Chemineau, Vieillesse), written in 1913, show an already remarkable talent for images and versification, as well as deep feeling. Until this day, however, most of his French poetry remains unpublished in his relatives' archives in France or the archives of the Russian Federation, along with some poetry he wrote in English.

Gradually, the young count got used to the life in the Corps- des-Pages and even started to enjoy it, a situation that probably was encouraged by his progress in Russian, a language he eventually learned with perfection. His letters home became much more joyful. He also found good friends among his classmates who called him Goghen, a russified abbreviation for Hohenfelsen.31 Some of them would perish during the first World War and be remembered by Vladimir in sad verses.

"A Poet Aming the Romanovs" - Jorge F. Sáenz

[kinnporsche]

what is this? another kinn & porsche rec list by tumblr user kinnporsche? it’s more likely than you think! it seems that i literally can’t stop—it’s been an entire year since the finale and i’m still stuck in my self-imposed 24/7 kinnporsche lockdown. so, here’s a bunch more fics that are currently making life worth living for me. once again, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to spread the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love, because they’re doing the lord’s work! god fucking bless. [part 6/?]

— self-fulfilling prophecy by lazulialekto – explicit / 119.4k words

Porsche stepped forward, dragging his eyes from Kinn’s chest, immediately concerned, “will things go sideways?”

Kinn grimaced, grabbing his glass of whiskey and taking a large swig of the amber liquid. “They often do, especially lately.” His glass clinked as he set it back down, then his hand was running down his face, stressed.

Porsche moved closer, sitting beside him, ignoring protocol completely. “If it’s that dangerous for you to go, can’t you just… not, or change the venue, or something?”

“And let them know I’m worried?” Kinn laughed bitterly as he let his hand drop down to his thigh, the Theerapanyakul family ring glinting in the light of the lamp in the corner. “I can’t do that. In this business a great deal rides on appearances. If I look weak to them, I won’t be the only target.”

— the situationship by verses – explicit / 112.5k words

“What about kissing?” Porsche asked, and his heart did a weird thing where it twisted all the way around his lungs and then plunged to his stomach.

Kinn raised a brow at that. “What about kissing? I feel like as the resident straight boy here, you should take the lead on this conversation.”

Porsche swallowed. “Well, do you kiss your boyfriends? In front of your friends and family?”

Kinn shrugged, and for once, the movement didn’t seem entirely effortless. “Sometimes.”

“Okay, then,” Porsche said, licking his suddenly dry lips. With tingly fingers, he added to the contract: ‘Non-sexual kissing allowed to fool participant K’s brother.’

(Or: Kinn, under pressure from the patriarch of the Theerapanyakul family, entices Porsche to enter a fake, contractual relationship with him. In return, Porsche gets money, a sexuality crisis, and a headache.)

— be the best you ever tasted by martynax – explicit / 90.9k words

“What’s your name, darling?” he questions.

“Jom,” Porsche replies after a moment, it makes a snort pass through Kinn’s lips.

“You don’t look like a Jom. Forgive me for repeating myself but you’re a shit liar,” he says once more. He still looks amused, like Porsche is telling jokes. Porsche presses his lips together stubbornly, which makes a small smirk appear on Kinn’s lips; he looks delighted for some reason. “Tell you what, darling, you tell me your name and I will end the session now. How about it?”

(Or: AU where Porsche’s life is shit so he shakes his perky little butt for strangers at a strip club and Kinn books him for a private show.)

— tiger bite by verbana – explicit / 54.7k words

Kinn leaned in, raking him over with his eyes. It felt like hovering over turbulent waters, daring a wave to come and sweep him down. “What are you gonna do to make me remember?”

Porsche reached up and slid a hand through the gap in Kinn’s shirt. Two fingers traced under his left collarbone. “I’ll tattoo my name here. Then all your hookups will have to stop and ask, who’s this?”

“And what should I tell them?” Their faces were too close. Porsche’s fingertips felt like they were plugged directly into his nervous system, lighting up every cell in his body. Red warning lights started flashing in the back of Kinn’s brain but he didn’t care, couldn’t care.

— twelve, twenty, almost thirty by just2wings – explicit / 34.2k words

Kinn is twelve when he falls for the boy with the bubbly laugh and fiery brown eyes, the only one who’s ever been able to pin him to the ground during taekwondo practice.

Kinn is twenty when he runs into him in the school gym, and then again in some shady alley. He falls in love all over again on a golden-lit pier, and then remembers all the reasons he shouldn’t.

Kinn is pushing thirty when he falls into a familiar, handsome bartender’s orbit again, and finally learns to ask for what he wants.

— insatiable by thewayside – explicit / 22k words (wip)

He squints to get a closer look at it and the faintest aroma hits his nose; soft and delicate like cherry blossom petals and cloying like simple syrup they keep in the bar.

(Or: Porsche steals a watch and gets kidnapped by a stinky alpha who maybe isn’t an alpha at all. What should be a one-time thing becomes bigger than either of them realizes.)

— the shape of you fitting me by nuwildcat – explicit / 18.5k words

They say that a person’s scent is a mark of compatibility. The better someone else smells to you, the stronger a bond between you will be. Porsche has smelled a lot of people working as a bartender, and many more intimately in his free time. But he’s never smelt something like this before. The scent of this omega calls to him, tempting and consuming. It’s the kind of scent that makes him inclined to think the aunties were right about destined mates.

And then he meets the omega tied to that scent, and everything just fits.

— he wants more than a tip, i’m not talking about guidance by haeseolar – explicit / 18.1k words

“Everyone, get out.”

The temperature in the room suddenly drops, everything turning still at the sound of Kinn’s voice ringing out, stopping everyone dead in their tracks and slicing right through to them. It’s so silent that you could hear a pin drop, nobody daring to make a move just yet.

“Didn’t you all hear me? Out!” Kinn shouts, nostrils flaring and voice devoid of any of the previous calm he had.

Everyone goes into motion then, even Chan who takes the hint and goes to join the crowd in leaving the gym. Porsche straightens himself up, still clutching over the left side of his chest as he joins the rest in filing out through the doors.

“Not you, Porsche. You stay here.”

— off to the races by mirrorofprinces – explicit / 17k words (wip)

“So, what is it that you do?” Porsche asks. “Have you always been attending the swanky events I bartend at, and I just never noticed?”

Kinn chuckles, the deep timbre of it going straight down Porsche’s spine. “Trust me, if I had ever seen you before, I would have introduced myself earlier.”

— like a serpent coiling around your throat by darkknight – explicit / 9.8k words

“Will I have to beat you into submission?” Porsche said, his voice raspy as he pinned Kinn under him.

Kinn spat at him, specks of blood coating Porsche’s face. “You can try,” he said, turning on his side to take Porsche with him as he kicked out his leg, hitting Porsche in the thigh.

The other man groaned, but quickly punched Kinn in the throat, making the breath leave him as he stood up and pressed a foot down in the middle of Kinn’s chest. The hard leather of Porsche’s shoes digging uncomfortably against his bare skin.

“Khun Kinn, always needing to be in control, but wouldn’t it be such a relief if you. Just. Let. Go?” he said, stressing the last three words by pressing his foot down harder against Kinn’s chest, making his breath come out in a harsh wheeze.

“Fuck. You."

(Or: AU where Porsche is a Yakuza boss and Kinn hates his guts.)

— consider the hairpin turn by concernedlily – explicit / 9k words

“I’m starting to think you like being punished,” Kinn says, sitting primly on his pristine couch, legs crossed.

— i always know by reason_to_write – mature / 8.3k words

His words stuck in his throat. He barely forced it out.

“Kinn…”

Immediately, even with the terrible reception quality, he could sense the shift in atmosphere on the other end of the line. In his mind’s eye, he saw the fearsome mafia leader stop mid-stride and heard the sharp intake of breath. When the voice spoke again, it couldn’t have been gentler.

“Tell me where you are.”

(Or: Porsche gets kidnapped, but Kinn is coming.)

— on the nature of trust by fortunehasgivenup – explicit / 6.1k words

They don’t stop clutching at each other right away.

Even if Porsche had tried, Kinn doesn’t think that he would allow it. He needs to be pressed up against as much of Porsche as he can.

If Porsche is holding on, he stills loves Kinn.

(Or: The aftermath of the iconic bathroom scene—set between episodes 7 and 8.)

— i’ll never surrender (my control over you) by luckydragon – explicit / 5.9k words

Bottoming doesn’t come naturally to Kinn, but he knows how to get what he needs.

— second skin by vesna (mrsronweasley) – explicit / 3k words

By the time they make it back to the house, accompanied by Pete and Arm, Porsche should be exhausted. All the alcohol burned off in his system from the adrenaline of Kinn blowing into the bathroom with a gun and backup, leaving him with a crystalline sort of clarity. That, more than anything, makes him feel wide awake.

[multicolour-ink]

Sonic's parents (movie verse) and how Sonic came to live with Longclaw.

I've been thinking about my own ideas involving Sonic's biological parents (movie verse), and I wanted to share them.

I had some different ideas, but recently I've reworked them and here is what I have so far in my notes:

- Sonic's mother was a free spirit, and loved to travel. She came from a small village, but would often take off with little a word. She didn't have much family, only a father who was old and set in his ways.

- Her name was Azolla.

- She loved nature, and the freedom of wandering. Being on the road meant experiencing new adventures everyday.

- While on one of these travels, Azolla stopped off at another small village and met a rugged and wild male hedgehog called Myo. The two hit it off immediately and spent a night together, before parting ways.

- Only a month or so after that encounter, Azolla found that she was pregnant. Knowing that Myo had also left that village and would be impossible to track down now, Azolla had to swallow the fact that she was going to have to raise her baby. One thing that made her fight through anything was her unwavering personality.

- Azolla travelled back to her village so she could give birth (as was expected for their group).

- Meanwhile, Myo, unable to get Azolla out of his mind, was determined to find her. Azolla may have been brash, but Myo was arguably the most stubborn hedgehog on the darn planet! He travelled back to the village they stayed at, asked for which direction Azolla had gone in, and followed the trail. His journey was long, with numerous stops and asking at other villages and settlements if they had seen a beautiful sky blue hedgehog.

- Some months passed and Myo finally made it to Azolla's village. Desperate to find her, he tried asking around, only to unintentionally meet her father, who cursed and attempted to drive Myo away.

- Azolla arrived to stop her father, and the two lovers finally saw each other again after months. Myo was more than shocked to discover that she was pregnant. It all got digested in milliseconds, but Myo assured Azolla that he would be there for her and support their baby.

- The two settled into a small hut together in the village. Myo learnt about Azolla's village and culture, and Azolla learnt more about Myo's life - that he had been a lone wanderer all his life, from when he was very young, he was free as the wind, and he had never settled.

- One night, Azolla told Myo that she believed they were having a boy. She couldn't explain why, just that she had a feeling.

- Some time later, close to when the baby was due, the two of them started to discuss the idea of going off and continuing their travels. This time as the two of them and their child.

- Azolla's father was against this, but grew to understand his daughter was old enough to make decisions. However, part of him really wished that she would reconsider.

- The village was also once acquainted with the owl tribe from many years ago. The last one left, Longclaw, was seen as a protector and friend of the village. Azolla saw her as an elder to confide in.

- Azolla gave birth to a healthy baby boy, with Myo by her side.

- Shortly after their son was born, the couple decided to leave. As was true her nature, Azolla left with very little word to anyone, even her own father, but left a goodbye gift.

- On the road once again, the couple and their child flourished. The child proved to have a love for nature just as much as his parents, little hands grabbing up at every small animal and plant they came across. Tiny ears twitching at the sounds of the wind and the grass. Azolla would show him plants up close, and her son would look on in delight and wonder.

- Not even before his first birthday, their son started showing signs of his powers. One minute he would be crawling, the next he would zip away then be back again in a millisecond. Myo and Azolla had no idea what caused this, but they both agreed it would just be another thing they had to handle.

- It became clear though, that rumors were spreading about their son's abilities, and things started to get wary. At first it started with questions from residents of wherever they spent the night. But it became clear that they were being followed by whispers.

- Azolla looked more into this and learnt that it was to do with Chaos Energy. Something her son possessed and would be sought after.

- The two agreed to keep moving and protect their son whatever the odds. Unfortunately, one day, the couple were pursued and cornered by bandits looking to claim the power. They never saw their faces, but their stature looked to be lizard like.

- Myo told Azolla to run with their son, while he stayed to fight the bandits off. He did not make it out...

- Azolla ran as fast as she could, clutching her crying son to her chest. She found herself at a fast flowing river, with no safe way to cross. Knowing the bandits were on them, and knowing they wanted her son, she made a decision to use a woven basket she carried in her supplies to send him down the river.

- Her eyes filled with tears as she kissed him goodbye and sent him down the rapids. Just then the bandits arrived. Before she could act, they struck her over the head with their weapon, and she fell into the water.

- The baby, still crying, drifted down the swollen river, until he ended up on the shores of a bank, where a certain owl discovered him.

[daniwib]

Thoughts on Masks 8x05 stills

When you consider that we haven't had a Halloween episode since season 5 for whatever real world reason but then put it in the context of the 911 verse, Buck's excitement over his corpse decoration becomes a lot more understandable. He's not just excited about a decoration, he's excited about working on Halloween with his family. You see, if we look at the seasons that didn't have a Halloween episode as our beloveds not being on shift that day, then they haven't worked a Halloween shift for three years.

Look at how he's standing, shoulder back, tall and so proud of himself. "Look at me, Dad! Look what I got for us, isn't it great?"

They're not so sure, because it looks very life (death?) like and knowing Buck, it might just be an actual real-life (death??) corpse.

Buck knows it's Bobby he has to convince. Chim's on board at once, he's intrigued and excited. Look at him playfully spraying fog at Bobby to make him laugh and agree! Hen's just all "Hmm, Buck's being Buck again, okay, it's just another day."

Eddie, meanwhile, is wondering why the corpse is dressed in HIS bachelor party costume...

"Buck, did you not only keep my destroyed, vomit encrusted suit but also wash it and then dress a dead body in it? MY suit?? What the hell were you thinking, man?!" Tell me that suit is not one hell of a lot cleaner than it was when we last saw Eddie wearing it....

Buck's just like, "Well, obviously I washed it. It stank! Who wants to smell that all shift?" "But smelling a desiccated corpse all shift is alright," Bobby dead pans with that delightful dry wit of his, and Buck launches into an explanation that no, actually, it doesn't, because once the flesh reaches a certain point of decay it begins to dry out and did you know.....

Ahh I cannot wait for this episode!!! Even more so when Oliver has told us he likes this episode and in my (admittedly shaky) memory, he's said that about episodes when Buck has been whumped in the past. So I'm hoping the spider bite or whatever it is goes a lot worse for him than we're expecting lol.

(list of previous Halloween episodes below the cut, lmk if I missed any!)

1x07 Full Moon (Creepy AF) Honorable shout out to this episode which while not technically a Halloween episode was still a lot of fun.

2x07 Haunted

3x06 Monsters

4 - No Halloween episode, shortened season due to covid

5x07 Ghost Stories

6 – No Halloween episode

7 - No Halloween episode, shortened season due to the strikes