#about how she felt understood in a way she had never before

[beloveds-embrace]

Wingless!Reader and Harpy!Gaz MY BELOVEDS!!!! She thinks she’s lost this thing that’s so crucial to her identity, so she must be unlovable now, and all he can think of is how amazing she is. Does she take a while to realize he’s hitting on her, or does he make it obvious immediately?

Short answer: it’d take her a while to accept that he is actually hitting on her! Thank you to @lostintransist, @sexc-snail, @ms-sasa, and @cod-z’s conversation for giving me inspiration for the long answer:

You hadn’t noticed him at first- not really.

It wasn’t like you expected to see another harpy in your small, isolated town. Not here, where the skies seemed too vast and empty, and you could pretend your feet had always been meant to kiss the earth instead of the wind. You liked it that way- liked the absence of feathers and sharp eyes that might rake over empty span of your back. You liked the illusion of anonymity.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the illusion shattered the moment Kyle “Gaz” Garrick walked into your life.

You’d seen him before, of course- him and the rest of his team. They were hard to miss, their sheer presence enough to bend the air around them, predatory in a way that set all your instincts on edge. That aside, it was hard not to notice newcomers immediately, and it was your neighbors that told you about them first. Anout him.

Gaz, though… He wasn’t sharp edges and thunder like the others. He was soft winds and dusky skies, his gaze steady but warm. Even so, you hadn’t lingered long enough to catch the subtle flutter of wings beneath his jacket, hadn’t realized what he was until it was too late to pretend not to see him.

Now, standing in the market square with the autumn breeze tugging at his dark curls, Kyle was unmistakable.

A harpy.

His eyes found yours almost immediately. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

You did. You dropped your gaze and turned away, pulse pounding and pretending like what harpy left in you didn’t want to chirp and seek him out to meet him proper.

The social instincts were easier to curb with no other harpies around.

It took days for you to stop feeling the weight of that look- curious, searching, too focused for comfort. It was worse when you saw him again, and again after that, his paths seeming to cross yours no matter how you tried to avoid him. Always the same glance, steady and unreadable. Always the same tug low in your stomach that you hated yourself for feeling.

You didn’t want his attention.

You didn’t want to see the moment his eyes shifted, when recognition would bloom into pity or horror or, worse, disgust.

And yet he never looked away, even when you knew he must have understood by now that you are wingless.

You were restocking shelves in the little general store you worked at when he finally cornered you- not literally, but it certainly felt like it. The bell above the door had chimed, and you’d looked up instinctively, only to freeze when you saw him there.

“Hey.” His voice was warm and crooning. Friendly. But there was a weight behind it too, something that made your feathers- what was left of them- prickle beneath your skin.

You murmured a polite greeting and turned back to your task. Maybe he’d take the hint. Hopefully.

He didn’t.

“Not many of us around here,” he said, like it was casual conversation. Like it didn’t make your stomach twist into tight knots, ash coating the back of your throat where there should’ve been excited tweets and chirps.

You swallowed hard, and yet the taste lingered. “No.”

The silence stretched; not offensive, not choking. Simply there.

“I’m Kyle.” He tried again, gentler this time though you still didn’t look at him.

“I know who you are.” Your voice came out rougher than you meant, but you didn’t soften it. You couldn’t afford to.

Please go away.

He didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he simply chuckled, and the sound was so nice. “Small town things, huh? And you are?”

“Busy.”

That, finally, gave him pause. You felt his gaze sweep over you, not sharp this time, but careful. Calculating. Like a hawk.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” he said after a moment, and there was no offense in it, just understanding. “But I’d like it if you did.”

You didn’t know why that made something in your chest ache.

You wanted to snap at him, tell him to leave you alone, but the words died before you could force them out. Instead, you turned and met his gaze properly for the first time.

You braced for it- for his eyes to drop, for his expression to change.

It didn’t.

He just looked at you, steady as ever, and then he smiled.

He kept showing up after that encounter.

He was persistent in a way that wasn’t quite pushy, but left you no room for retreat. He showed up everywhere, always lingering at the edges of your space like he was waiting for an invitation you never gave. Sometimes he bought things from the store where you worked, even when it was obvious he didn’t need them. Other times he just passed by, pausing long enough to offer a nod or a smile, feathers fluffing out ever so slightly, before continuing on his way.

He never asked about your lack of wings.

He didn’t need to.

You caught him watching you sometimes, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he looked away. But there was no pity in it, no revulsion. Just… interest. Curiosity. Like he was trying to figure you out.

You hated how much it made your heart race.

The first gift appeared on your doorstep after a bad storm.

It was a feather- deep brown with pale golden tips, sleek and perfect. A molted primary. Harpy wings didn’t shed often, and when they did, the feathers were treasured. Given, and never discarded.

You stared at it for a long time before picking it up, your fingers trembling. No. Was this a cruel joke? A mockery?

But harpies didn’t gift feathers lightly. It wasn’t just a token, it would never be used for a joke. It was a claim. A courtship.

You told yourself it couldn’t be from him, even if he was the only other harpy in town.

But when you saw Gaz later that day, his eyes flicked briefly to your hand where you still clutched the feather like it might disappear if you let it go. His mouth curved in the faintest of smug smiles before he turned and walked away, wings lax and fluffy; happy.

(Un)surprisingly, it didn’t stop there.

A polished stone one day, smooth and dark and heavy in your palm, made its home on your windowsill proudly. A sprig of rosemary the next, tucked into a small bundle of herbs tied with twine left with a basket of hunted game. Little things, carefully chosen, left where you’d be sure to find them.

You should have given them back. Should have told him to stop.

But you didn’t. Couldn’t, didn’t want him to.

You kept them, every single one. And still denied anything related to the idea of courting.

The first time he touched you, it was an accident. Or so you led yourself to believe.

You’d been hauling a heavy crate in the back room of the store when you slipped, hissing as pain flared along your shoulder. Before you could steady yourself, his hands were on you- gentle but firm, catching you before you could fall.

“Careful, love.” He murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You froze.

It wasn’t just his touch; it was the way he leaned in, close enough that his wings brushed your arm, soft feathers ghosting over your skin. Harpies didn’t touch wings lightly. It was intimate, deliberate.

You stepped back quickly, your pulse hammering like a hummingbird. “I’m fine, Kyle.”

He didn’t move, dark eyes searching yours and wings still brushing over your skin like the calls of a siren. “Are you?”

You hated how much you wanted to lean back into him, when you finally pull yourself away with the excuse of having work to do. His eyes followed you regardless, and you pretended not to hear his pleased croon.

The first time you let him close, it wasn’t an accident.

You were walking home after sunset, shadows long and creeping. The streets felt too empty, too quiet. You told yourself you were imagining things- the prickle at the back of your neck, the feeling of being watched. But harpy senses were never wrong, even ones wingless-

Then you saw them.

Three men leaning against the alley wall, eyes sharp and predatory. Not hybrids- just humans- but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t look at them. But they stepped into your path anyway, smiles sharp as knives.

“Not in the mood,” you kept your voice steady, sighing in the quiet confines of your mind.

They didn’t move.

Before you could react, a shadow loomed behind you, cutting through the dim light; Kyle, wings spread wide and threating behind him.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to.

The men took one look at him- the sharp line of his jaw, the broad set of his shoulders, the feathers flaring at his back- and decided they wanted no part of him. They melted away into the night, quick and silent, and in no time they were simple specks of forgotten dust.

You let out a shaky breath, wrapping your arms around yourself as you turned to look at him. Despite the unpleasant encounter, he looed handsome like this, lip curled in disgust, jaw tight, brows furrowed.

Stupid thoughts.

“You okay?” Kyle asked, voice low. He kept looking around, on the look out in case anyone else tried their luck with you, and he hummed when he saw you nod.

You hadn’t realized it until now, but his hands were on your waist, tight but not enough to cause you any pain. You.. couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to let go, and so his hands lingered there.

Not too long- just enough for the heat of his touch to settle beneath your skin, warm and steady. Just enough for his thumbs to brush once, barely there, before he let go at last.

He didn’t step back, though.

“Come on,” he said, voice softer now, one wing open around you back like a shield. “I’ll walk you home, love.”

You didn’t argue. Couldn’t, not when the memory of sharp eyes and sharper smiles still clung to the edges of your thoughts. You nodded again, and when his wing brushed your arm- closer than any harpy should have dared- you didn’t flinch away.

Not this time.

You tell yourself you should have stopped it there.

Should have put some distance between you and Kyle before you let yourself sink any deeper than you’ve already allowed, but you didn’t.

You let him linger, let him watch you, let him keep leaving those little gifts like offerings. You let him walk you home when the streets grew dark and the wind grew cold, his wings always flaring slightly- protective, claiming. You invite him in, sometimes, longing for company yet unable to admit it to yourself.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because some part of you- some buried, broken part that still ached for the wind and the skies- wanted to be claimed. Wanted the safety and warmth he offered so freely, even when you didn’t think you deserved it.

Especially then.

The next gift was the one that broke you.

You’d thought you’d grown used to them by now- the feathers, the stones, the herbs tied with twine. Small things. Careful things.

But this time, it wasn’t small.

It was a cloak.

Dark and soft, lined with feathers- harpy feathers. His feathers. Feathers that gleamed gold and brown, sleek and perfect. Feathers meant for flight; the same feathers that protected you, that stayed with you.

He’d given them to you.

His feathers.

The thought kept looping in your mind, loud and clear.

Your hands trembled as you touched the edge of the cloak, and you barely noticed when the door creaked open.

Kyle stepped inside, and his eyes softened the moment they landed on you. “Fits you, darling.” He said, low and warm as a setting sun.

“I can’t take this, Kyle.” You whispered, a deep ache attempting to burrow its way into the soft, vulnerable space between your ribs.

“Yes, you can.”

You looked up, and his gaze caught you, steady and unyielding. The ache melted away.

“Kyle-”

“It’s yours, honey.” He stepped closer, his wings shifting. “You’re mine.”

The words hit like a blow, but before you could retreat, he kept going.

“You think I don’t see it?” Kyle’s voice dropped, something raw and aching curling beneath it. “You think I don’t know? I don’t care about your wings, love. Never did. They do not make me think any less of you.”

You flinched, but he didn’t stop there.

He reached out, pulling you into the cocoon of his arms and wing. “You’re still a harpy. Still strong. Still you. Still the loveliest birdie I’ve ever seen.” His grip tightened, just slightly, and he hooked his chin over your head. “You’re not broken.”

Your throat closed.

He must have noticed, because his voice softened further, almost pleading.

“Let me keep you safe. Let me stay.”

You couldn’t breathe.

And yet, when his hand slipped down to tangle with yours, you didn’t pull away.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ What's Me Without You? | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: She’s his forbidden fruit—the one thing Max can never have but can’t stay away from. She’s his calm in the chaos, his greatest temptation, and the silent ache he’ll carry for the rest of his life.

A/N: This story was requested by @pinkinternetstarlight

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Max Verstappen wasn’t sure when the ache in his chest had become a constant companion, a dull, hollow reminder of all he wanted but could never have. Maybe it had always been there, buried beneath the layers of fame, pressure, and expectation. Or maybe it had grown over time, with every laugh that escaped Y/n’s lips, with every soft touch of her hand on his arm, with every time she smiled at him like he was her whole world.

He didn’t deserve her. He never had.

Yet, she was always there, unwavering in her support, her loyalty, her love—though she would never admit it. Y/n wasn’t just his best friend. She was his home, the only person who saw every crack in his armor and stayed anyway.

Max leaned back against the couch, his head resting on her lap as her fingers combed gently through his hair. Her touch was soothing, her presence grounding him in a way no one else could. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was familiar, comforting. It was the kind of quiet that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

But even now, even with her hand softly stroking his head and her scent surrounding him, guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He’d had a terrible race—another mechanical failure, another DNF that left him simmering with frustration. When he’d finally returned to his hotel room, all he wanted was her. Not Kelly, who was waiting for him back in Monaco with Penelope, but Y/n. It wasn’t right, and he knew it, but Y/n was the only one who could put him back together when he felt like he was falling apart.

“I came as soon as I could,” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with worry.

She always did.

It didn’t matter where in the world he was. It didn’t matter what she had going on. If he needed her, she came. She’d dropped everything to be here tonight, flying across time zones and leaving behind her own life to hold him in her arms.

Max closed his eyes, breathing her in. He could feel the tension in her body as she sat rigid beneath him, her free hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She was worried about him—she always worried about him.

“You didn’t have to come,” he murmured, though they both knew it was a lie. He didn’t know how to survive these nights without her anymore.

“Don’t be stupid,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “Of course I had to come. You’re—” She paused, swallowing hard. “You’re my best friend.”

Max’s eyes fluttered open as her hand stilled in his hair. He shifted slightly, pressing his face into her neck, seeking the comfort he couldn’t find anywhere else.

Her skin was warm against his cheek, her pulse steady and reassuring. He felt safe here, in her arms, in her presence. But the safety came with a tinge of guilt, a bitter reminder that this wasn’t where he should be.

But Kelly didn’t understand.

Max could see it in the way her lips pressed together whenever Y/n’s name came up, the way her smile tightened whenever Y/n walked into the room. She never said anything outright, but the tension was there, simmering beneath the surface.

It didn’t matter.

Max knew where his loyalty lay. Y/n had been there long before Kelly, long before anyone. She was the reason he kept going some days, the only person who truly understood the toll this life took on him. Kelly might not like it, but even she couldn’t deny it—Max needed Y/n in a way he would never need anyone else.

He tried to make it work with Kelly, for Penelope’s sake if nothing else. He liked Kelly—she was kind and understanding in her own way, and he adored Penelope. But it wasn’t the same. It never could be.

Kelly had confronted him about it once, in the early days of their relationship.

“She loves you,” she had said, her voice calm but cutting.

Max had frozen, unsure how to respond. He didn’t deny it. How could he? Y/n’s love was written in every small thing she did for him, in every sacrifice she made, in every time she dropped everything to be by his side.

“And you love her,” Kelly had continued, her eyes hard but resigned.

He didn’t deny that, either.

But Kelly had never brought it up again. She knew better.

Because as much as she hated it, as much as it hurt her, she knew that if something happened Max would always choose Y/n. 

Max shifted on the couch, his voice breaking the silence. “Do you ever think about what it would be like? If things were different?”

Y/n’s hand stilled in his hair, her fingers hovering for a moment before resuming their gentle strokes.

“Different how?” she asked softly, her voice careful, cautious.

Max hesitated, his heart pounding. He didn’t know why he had said it, why he was opening this door. But the words were out now, and there was no taking them back.

“Us,” he said quietly. “If we were...different.”

Y/n was silent for a long time, and Max felt his chest tighten, the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on him.

“Don’t,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. “Don’t say things like that, Max.”

He remembered the first time she had cried in front of him. They had been teenagers, sitting in his room after a long day.

“No one likes me,” she had said, her voice thick with tears. “I’m ugly, and I’m boring, and no one wants to be with me.”

Max had been furious—not at her, but at the world for making her feel this way. He had held her as she cried, whispering reassurances into her hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he had told her, his voice firm. “And anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

She had sniffled, pulling back to look at him with watery eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he had said, his hands on her shoulders. “You’re amazing, Y/n. And if some guy doesn’t see that, then he’s not worth your time.”

He meant it. He always had.

But Max couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, it was his fault she was crying in the first place.

He knew he had chased away every boy who had shown an interest in her. He hadn’t meant to, not at first. But the thought of her with someone else, of her giving her heart to someone who wasn’t him, was unbearable.

So he had intervened, subtly at first, then more overtly as time went on. He didn’t regret it, even when she cried on his shoulder, wondering why no one stayed.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t admit that he was the reason.

Because Max Verstappen was a selfish man. And he couldn’t let a bit of guilt stop him from protecting her.

Max’s fists clenched as he watched Y/n laugh with the guy at the bar. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, Max forgot how to breathe.

Then the guy leaned closer, and Max saw red.

“You okay?” Y/n asked when Max stalked over, her brows knitting in concern.

“Fine,” he said tightly, his gaze flicking to the guy. “Who’s this?”

The guy opened his mouth to respond, but Max cut him off. “You should go.”

“Max!” Y/n hissed, her eyes widening.

The guy frowned but quickly walked away, muttering something under his breath.

“What the hell was that?” Y/n demanded, crossing her arms.

“He was bothering you,” Max said, his jaw clenching.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” she snapped. “He was nice. And now he thinks I’m some helpless girl with an overprotective brother.”

Max flinched at the word brother. “I was just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you to scare off every guy I talk to!” she said, her voice rising.

Max looked away, guilt twisting in his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Y/n sighed, her expression softening. “Just...let me handle it next time, okay?”

“Okay,” he said quietly, though he knew there wouldn’t be a next time.

Because no one would ever be good enough for her.

Max remembered the night he realized he was in love with her.

They had been eighteen, sitting on the hood of his car under a blanket of stars. It was one of the rare nights he wasn’t on the road, and she had insisted on taking him out to the middle of nowhere to remind him what quiet felt like.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she had asked, her voice soft and wistful.

“Sometimes,” he had admitted, though the future was always a blur to him—races, championships, the never-ending grind.

“I think about it all the time,” she had said, her eyes shining as she looked at the sky. “Where we’ll be, what we’ll be doing...if we’ll still be here together.”

“Of course we will,” he had said without hesitation.

She had smiled then, the kind of smile that made his heart ache, and he realized in that moment that he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life.

But he had been too afraid to say anything, too afraid to ruin what they had. And as the years passed, that fear only grew.

Max didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

He wanted her laugh, her touch, her presence in every corner of his life. He wanted to wake up to her sleepy smile and fall asleep with her head on his chest. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, how he would give anything to be the man she deserved.

But he couldn’t.

Because she deserved better.

And so he kept his feelings locked away, hidden beneath layers of unspoken words and longing glances.

There were moments when he thought about what it would be like to be with her, really be with her.

He thought about holding her hand in public, about introducing her as his girlfriend instead of his best friend. He thought about what it would be like to kiss her, to wake up beside her, to call her his.

But then the doubts crept in, the fear that he would ruin her, that his demons would drag her down with him.

She was too good for him, too pure, too kind. Those thoughts were dangerous, and Max knew better than to indulge them.

Max shifted on the couch, pulling back to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

She frowned, tilting her head. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “For always being here. For putting up with me. For...everything.”

She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “You don’t have to thank me, Max. You know I’d do anything for you.”

And that was the problem.

She would do anything for him, and he would let her, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Max didn’t sleep that night.

He never could when the weight of his emotions threatened to suffocate him, and tonight, it felt heavier than ever. He stayed where he was, his shoulder stiff but unwilling to move and disturb her peaceful slumber. Y/n deserved her rest—she had flown halfway across the world just for him. She always did.

The next morning, Y/n was awake before him, bustling quietly around the small hotel room. Max cracked his eyes open, watching her from where he lay. She had always been a morning person, though he didn’t know how she managed it after such long flights and sleepless nights.

“Good morning,” she said softly, noticing his gaze.

Her voice was warm, soothing, and it wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/n walked over, holding out a cup of coffee. Max took it gratefully, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch was brief but enough to send a spark up his arm, one he tried desperately to ignore.

“Feeling better?” she asked, sitting down beside him.

He nodded, though it was a lie. He felt worse, if anything, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he said quietly, staring into his coffee.

“I wanted to,” she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Max turned to look at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her soft smile. She always looked at him like that, like he was the most important person in her world. And maybe he was.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Max had meetings and obligations, and Y/n trailed behind him, her presence quiet but comforting.

It wasn’t until they returned to his hotel room that evening that the tension in his chest began to ease.

Y/n curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Max sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, and it was enough to make his heart ache.

“I should head back tomorrow,” she said after a while, her voice hesitant.

Max’s stomach twisted at the thought. He didn’t want her to leave—not yet, not ever—but he knew he couldn’t ask her to stay.

“Do you have to?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Y/n turned to look at him, her eyes soft. “I’ve been gone from work too long already, Max. I can’t keep disappearing every time you need me.”

The words weren’t meant to hurt, but they did.

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll miss you.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out, her hand resting gently on his. “I’ll miss you too.”

Max didn’t want to let her go, but the next morning, he found himself standing in the lobby, watching as she prepared to leave.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said, her voice firm. “I mean it, Max.”

“I will,” he promised, though they both knew he hated calling her. He hated being a burden, hated pulling her away from her life.

She hugged him tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck. Max held her just as tightly, his hands resting on her back.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered.

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure he knew how to without her.

Back in Monaco, Kelly was waiting for him. She greeted him with a kiss, and Penelope ran into his arms, her laughter filling the room.

It should have been enough.

And in a way, it was. Max loved Penelope, and he cared for Kelly. But it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

That night, as he lay in bed beside Kelly, his mind wandered to Y/n. He wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking about him the way he was thinking about her.

Kelly shifted beside him, her arm draping over his chest. Max stiffened, guilt washing over him.

He wasn’t a cheater, but sometimes, it felt like he was. Max loved Kelly in his own way, but it wasn’t the kind of love that consumed him. It wasn’t the kind of love that made his chest ache and his heart race.

That kind of love was reserved for Y/n, and he knew it always would be.

As long as she was happy, he would endure the ache.

Because she deserved better than him.

And Max Verstappen would rather break his own heart a thousand times than let anyone break hers.

[cece693]

Oh can I request a Male reader x Kol, Elijah, and Klaus Mikaelson where the Mikaelson's are highly protective of M reader

Mikaelsons Whore

pairing: kol, klaus, and elijah mikaelson tags: vulgar language, elena being the 'righteous' queen, basically Elena being her whinny self, human male reader, the mikaelson family loves you

Elena was the golden child—the popular girl and Mystic Falls’ most recognized individual. It was all too easy for you to slip into the background and just be labeled as “the other Gilbert.” Your younger brother Jeremy understood how that felt; he maintained a better relationship with you than Elena ever did. Still, even Jeremy couldn’t begin to fathom what drew you to side with the Mikaelsons—or how you managed to fall in love with not one, but three of the brothers, each dangerous in their own way. Ironically, the most feared and powerful family in history had shown you more warmth than anyone else in town. Rebekah, in particular, became the sister figure you had always needed and never truly found in Elena.

When word of your involvement with the Mikaelsons spread through Mystic Falls, the backlash was swift and merciless. Elena made her disapproval painfully clear by storming into your bedroom, practically foaming at the mouth, and demanding to know why you had betrayed her—as though your love life was hers to dictate. The Salvatore brothers, blinded by loyalty to your sister, declared that the Originals must have compelled you, never even pausing to consider that you might be spending time with them of your own free will.

Bonnie’s disapproval came as no shock—she was Elena’s best friend, after all—but Caroline’s reaction stung the most. You had always admired her warmth and optimism, so hearing her spew the word whore cut more deeply than you ever expected. Still, you knew where her bitterness stemmed from: she craved love, and watching yet another potential romance slip through her fingers had turned her despair into anger.

When your lovers—Klaus, Elijah, and Kol—heard about the way the town was talking, their reactions weren’t pretty. Klaus’s protective streak flared; you could feel the rage rolling off of him in waves as he threatened to make everyone in Mystic Falls pay for the insults. Elijah, always calm and composed, simmered with a cold fury that was somehow even more terrifying. And Kol, mischievous and volatile at the best of times, seemed eager to teach your tormentors a lesson about mocking his beloved.

But even if your family and friends had turned against you and spewed hatred, you refused to let your lovers make a scene. You understood their position, but at the end of the day, you naively believed that Elena and your friends would come around and be happy for you. This naivety was a mistake. "I'll be back soon," you murmured, smiling up at Klaus, who was visibly upset about the whole situation. He had proposed that he or one of his brothers accompany you to meet with Elena, but upon your insistence, they had reluctantly agreed to let you handle things alone.

"I'll be just a call away," Klaus conceded, his voice stern, leaving no room for negotiation on that point.

As you turned to leave, Klaus stepped forward and gently lifted your chin, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead—a gesture that spoke volumes of his love and concern. "Be careful," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the swell of emotions.

With one last reassuring nod, you left the safety of the Mikaelson home and headed towards the Mystic Grill. Upon your arrival, Elena greeted you with a serene smile. "I'm glad you came," she said, guiding you to a booth tucked away in the corner. The atmosphere was casual, the familiar buzz of the Grill around you almost comforting. She ordered drinks, and when yours arrived, you didn't think twice before taking a sip, trusting that your sister truly wanted to make amends.

However, as the evening progressed, you began to feel unusually drowsy and disoriented. The lights of the bar grew bothersome, and just as you tried to ask Elena to call Klaus, darkness enveloped you. When you regained consciousness, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, hands and feet bound. The Salvatore brothers and Bonnie were there, their expressions a mix of stern determination and misguided hope.

"We're going to fix this," Damon declared, his tone brooking no argument as he glanced at Bonnie.

Bonnie, her face pinched in concentration, approached with a collection of herbs and crystals. "I'm sorry. This will hurt, but it's for your own good."

Your eyes darted from person to person, hoping that your visible fright might make them reconsider their decision, but no one stepped forward. Elena stood beside Bonnie, murmuring something about getting her brother back, but then pain engulfed you. Thrashing in the chair, the ropes digging into your wrists, you let out screams of agony. You didn't know how much time passed as you screamed, but it was evident you were under no spell. "Klaus! Elijah! Kol!" you began to scream, hoping they would save you from this torment, but relief was slow to come, and you fell unconscious once again.

When you woke again, the surroundings were markedly different from the harsh, dimly lit room of your ordeal. The plush comfort of a familiar bed enveloped you, the soft linens smelling faintly of lavender and sage—an aroma that always soothed your nerves. The opulent room bathed in the gentle light of late afternoon told you that you were back at the Mikaelson mansion. As your eyes adjusted, you saw Klaus, Elijah, and Kol surrounding your bed, their faces etched with concern but visibly relieved to see you awake.

Kol was the first to notice your eyes fluttering open. "He's awake," he announced softly, his usual mischievous tone subdued.

Elijah, ever the composed one, approached with a glass of water, his movements graceful and careful. "How do you feel?" he asked gently as he helped you sit up to sip the water, his hand supporting your back.

Klaus, who had been standing by the window watching you with an intense gaze, came over and sat on the edge of the bed. His hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're safe now, back home with us," he murmured, the relief palpable in his voice.

You looked between them, trying to piece together what had happened after your memory cut off. "What…what happened after I passed out?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

The brothers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. It was Klaus who spoke, choosing his words with care. "You were in a bad state when we found you. We made sure no one could harm you again," he explained vaguely, not delving into the specifics of their retribution.

Elijah added, "Our priority is your recovery. You've been through a tremendous ordeal." He gently adjusted the bandages on your wrist where the ropes had left marks.

Kol’s expression darkened with the memory of your pain. "Let’s just say they won’t be bothering you—or anyone else—ever again," he added, though his tone was nonchalant, trying to shield you from the violent truths.

You sensed there was more they weren’t telling you, but the exhaustion pulling at your limbs and the comfort of being surrounded by your protectors allowed you to set aside these thoughts for now. Gratitude filled your chest as you looked at each of them, their presence a tangible reminder of their commitment to you. "Thank you," you whispered, feeling overwhelmed and a bit adrift. "For coming for me."

"Always," Klaus responded firmly, his thumb brushing over your hand. "We will always come for you."

[christronomy]

the devil is faceless // bang chan

cw: horror/doppelgänger au, fem reader, chris is a killer (for a good cause lol), body horror (mutilation), brief mention of murder/death, gore, and sex (not very detailed tho), slight angst.

you think about it as you lie on the cold floor. you're much closer to your dead lover than you thought you ever would be. it's almost as if you're holding his body in your arms again, the feeling of deadweight heavy on your chest, tears trailing down the sides of your head a reminder how he once was. warm.

christopher always ran warmer than usual, but it was a perfect contrast to how cold you often were. his arms were the only place you felt safest in, and he preferred it that way. "the world isn't what you think it is, pretty girl," he'd once said. he would always keep you safe from the monsters, the people who posed any sort of threat. he always got rid of the problem. that was, until it came back to haunt him.

your eyes always gave you away, because you were too innocent. you still couldn't understand how things functioned ever since they changed. anyone here could be an imposter or a copy of someone else, or even worse, tortured by their own perception of themself in a way that made them extremely hostile. you didn't see things the way he did, which was the complete opposite. chris always saw it, ever since you were kids—the imperfections in their facial expressions, wide, unnatural smiles, strange voices that he always heard in the back of his mind, in his nightmares.

when he got older he figured that disposing of these vile creatures would help silence those voices, but he was wrong. at first, it was fulfilling, but then it turned into a chore, and it was something not many people approved of. he was taking justice into his own hands and they didn't like it. how could someone kill so carelessly? how would you know they're really those monsters if you can't look at their face?

but chris always knew the difference. it was like they teased him, followed him around. they were unmistakably identifiable compared to real humans, and there were many more of those things than people thought, they just didn't realize how many more. so they called him paranoid, they never believed him when he described the truth, spreading lies and making it seem like he was simply telling stories, grueling fairytales just to scare others.

you always believed him, never doubted him for a second, especially when you saw it happen for the first time, the transformation that leaves barely an idea of what used to be-twisting limbs, the sound of flesh tearing and contorting, almost as if the body was just liquid in a mold, taking an entirely different shape. "don't look," he'd said, quickly pulling you into his arms and covering your eyes and ears with his coat, and in a matter of seconds, the walls were covered in blood. you didn't want to look away. she was your best friend, and you didn't want to forget what she looked like, but no matter how much you tried, you could only see what she had become, every time you closed your eyes.

what stuck with you the most was the voice, the sound of her screams almost like laughter, mixing with sobs, silent cries for help being overshadowed by the evil taking over her body, her life, her soul. only then was when you truly understood chris, why he was always sure to be on high alert at all times, why he struggled to sleep every night, why he needed the nicotine to soothe his body even if it was only a temporary fix. you truly understood what he said when he’d described it. the way it sounded to you was exactly what he'd said before.

"it sounds like a demon's laugh. twisted, sadistic, like it's enjoying itself. like the devil himself is whispering in your ear."

and he was right, the devil himself whispered in your ear that night, and never shut up, even to this day. the whisper became more like an obnoxiously loud, taunting voice the day that chris died. he died telling you to look away, with a smile on his face, because you knew that whenever he said those two simple words, the threat would be taken care of. but this time, it wasn't, and this time, you didn’t look away as the bullet went straight through his head, his blood spraying onto your face, watching him fall to his side with a sickening thud. snipers had somehow found and ambushed you as you were making your way back home, and he knew you were surrounded, he had sharp eyes. anyone else wouldn't be able to see where they were hiding, but he spotted every single one immediately, the lasers aiming straight for his head, and he knew he'd be dead if he made another move.

but they didn't spare him even when he stood still, and they didn't lift a finger when you held him in your arms in the middle of the abandoned road, your voice giving out from the way you couldn't contain your agonized screams. since then, he couldn't be there to protect you, to tell you to look away and that it would all be over soon, so you were lost. and that's how you ended up here, now, on the floor, limbs painfully stretched, you were pretty sure some of your bones had even snapped in the process, and you could see your blood pooling by your body through the corner of your eye. all because you'd encountered one of them. you narrowly escaped the attack somehow, but the effect of it still got to your body, painfully contorting it in an attempt to take control.

if chris were here, he would have eliminated the thing immediately, you thought. you thought about the way he always wore a large, long coat to hide his weapons, and to bury your face in it whenever you encountered a threat. it was the same way he would pull you into him when you were alone in the confines of your room, in your shared bed. you always laid your head down on his chest that way so you could fall asleep to his heartbeat, because it was the only way you could sleep. it was the same way he held you close when you got too tired from working your hips, the room feeling hot, stars obscuring your vision as soon as he whispered a soft, “i got you, baby,” as he took control, filling your mind with bliss.

if chris were here you wouldn't feel so cold like you do right now, you wouldn't be in so much pain, struggling to breathe, watching and feeling the life slowly drain out of you. but as much as it hurts, you’re starting to feel okay with it, because now you won't have to deal with this, whatever it is. because chris was right, this world wasn't what you thought it was. but he would've been proud of you for making it this far. now you're so much closer to your lover than ever, so instead of focusing on the blood by your ears, you look away one last time as your vision blurs, letting out a long breath. the cold deadweight on your chest suddenly feels like a warm, familiar embrace, the subtle smell of nicotine wafting through your nose, the once torturous whispers turning into soft-spoken reassurances, strong arms cradling your soul gently as you sink into the depths of this inevitable fate.

[geotjwrs]

can I ask for another part of no one's home pls?

beneath of it

Pairings ; Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The days following that conversation were even harder than you imagined. Wednesday's request for a second chance lingered in your mind, replaying in an endless loop. Could you trust her again? Could you forgive her? Could you forgive yourself for even wanting to?

The hallways of Nevermore felt colder now. You and Wednesday didn't cross paths often, but when you did, there was always that heavy, unspoken tension between you. She would glance at you, her expression unreadable, but you never lingered long enough to figure it out. You wanted space; you needed it.

Yet, somehow, the universe seemed intent on forcing you two together.

It was late in the evening when Enid, Wednesday's roommate and one of the few people who had noticed the distance between the two of you, found you sitting by the edge of the forest. She approached cautiously, her usual bubbly energy dampened by the weight of concern.

"Y/N?" Enid's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

You sighed, leaning back against the tree behind you. "If this is about Wednesday, I really don't want to hear it, Enid."

Enid sighed as she sat down next to you, brushing her long, colorful hair over her shoulder. "Look, I know what happened. Not everything, but... enough."

You turned to her, surprised. "She told you?"

She nodded. "Not exactly in a heartfelt, soul-bearing way—she's still Wednesday—but she mentioned that she messed up. That she hurt you."

You rubbed your hands together, feeling the familiar sting of heartache. "She kissed Tyler. She never even kissed me. And then... she called me a burden."

Enid winced. "I'm sorry. That's... yeah, that's harsh."

"It broke me, Enid," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't know how to move past that."

Enid was silent for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. "You know, Wednesday isn't exactly the best at handling feelings. She's never been the type to open up or admit when she's wrong. And if she told you she wants a second chance, that's her way of saying she... cares."

You snorted bitterly. "Cares? She cared enough to kiss Tyler."

Enid shook her head. "That was a mistake. A huge one. But Tyler? That's a whole different mess, and you need to know the truth."

A knot of unease formed in your stomach. "What do you mean?"

Enid hesitated, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "You know Tyler's the Hyde, right?"

You stared at her, your heart suddenly racing. "What?"

"Wednesday's been trying to figure out who the Hyde is for weeks. She was sure it was Xavier at first, but Tyler... he's the real monster." Enid's eyes widened, trying to make you understand the weight of what she was saying. "That kiss? I think it was part of her plan. Trying to get close to him, trying to learn more about the Hyde. She was focused on the case—maybe too focused. But you have to understand, Y/N, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you."

The revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. Tyler was the Hyde. Wednesday kissed him as part of her investigation. But that didn't change the fact that it had still happened, that she had said things to you she could never take back.

"Why didn't she tell me any of this?" you asked, frustration building. "I could've helped."

"Because she thought you were in danger. She didn't want you involved." Enid looked at you with sympathy. "Wednesday doesn't always know how to show it, but she pushes people away when she's scared. She thought the Hyde might come after you if you got too close."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "I don't need her protection. I just wanted her honesty."

"I know," Enid said softly. "And maybe she does, too."

The next few days passed in a blur. Your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. You felt betrayed, but you also understood why she had kept things from you. It didn't excuse her actions, but it added a new layer of complexity to the situation.

Then came the night everything changed.

Nevermore had fallen into a tense silence as word spread that the Hyde had been captured. Tyler had been taken into custody, but the damage had already been done. You hadn't seen Wednesday since the arrest, and part of you was relieved. The space between you still felt fragile, like one wrong move could shatter everything.

But late one night, as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, there was a knock at your door.

You didn't have to ask who it was.

You opened the door to find Wednesday standing there, her dark eyes gleaming with something you couldn't quite place. It wasn't the usual cool indifference. There was something deeper, more conflicted.

"I need to talk to you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You sighed but stepped aside, letting her in.

Wednesday stood in the center of your room, her hands clasped in front of her, her usual confidence replaced by something almost vulnerable. "I'm not good at this," she began, her eyes flickering to the floor. "But I know I owe you an explanation."

You folded your arms, waiting.

"I... made a mistake," she said, her voice quieter than you'd ever heard it. "With Tyler. With the case. With you. I thought I was doing what was necessary, but I hurt you in the process."

You didn't say anything, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I thought I could handle everything on my own," she continued, her voice wavering. "I thought I didn't need anyone. But... I was wrong. I pushed you away because I was afraid. Afraid that if I let you get too close, you'd get hurt. Or worse."

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your emotions in check. "You still kissed him, Wednesday. You called me a burden."

"I know," she said, stepping closer, her eyes locking onto yours. "And I regret it. I regret all of it. I didn't mean those things. I just didn't know how to handle... us."

Her admission hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had wanted this—an apology, an explanation—but now that it was here, you didn't know if it was enough.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," you said finally, your voice breaking. "Not after everything."

Wednesday looked down, her expression unreadable. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know that. But I do care about you, Y/N. More than I realized."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling between you. You stared at her, trying to make sense of everything. Could you really trust her again? Could you let her back into your heart after everything she had done?

Before you could respond, there was a sudden loud crash outside your window, followed by a low growl that sent chills down your spine. You and Wednesday exchanged a glance before rushing to the window.

The Hyde was back.

But Tyler was in custody. How could this be?

Without thinking, you and Wednesday darted outside, your heart pounding as you made your way into the dark woods. You could hear the growls growing closer, and the realization hit you like a freight train. Tyler wasn't the only Hyde. There was another.

The monster lurked in the shadows, its grotesque form illuminated by the faint moonlight. It lunged at you, but Wednesday was faster, her knife flashing in the darkness as she dodged its attack.

"Stay back," she ordered, her voice sharp. "This isn't your fight."

But you didn't listen. You weren't going to stand by and let her handle it alone—not this time.

The battle was fierce, the Hyde's monstrous strength nearly overwhelming. But together, you and Wednesday fought with everything you had. The creature was relentless, its claws slashing through the air as it tried to tear you apart.

Finally, with a well-placed strike, Wednesday brought the creature down, her breathing ragged as she stood over its fallen body. But before you could catch your breath, the creature stirred, its eyes glowing with fury.

It wasn't dead. Not yet.

The Hyde lunged again, its claws aimed directly at you. But in a split second, Wednesday stepped in front of you, taking the hit.

She gasped, her body crumpling to the ground as blood seeped from her side.

As you rushed to Wednesday's side after defeating the Hyde, you found her alive—just badly hurt. Her breathing was shallow, but she was far from the brink of death.

"Wednesday, hang on. I've got you," you said, your voice trembling with concern.

She opened her eyes, grimacing as she clutched her side. "I'm... fine," she muttered, her pride refusing to let her admit how much pain she was in.

You helped her to her feet, your arm supporting her as she winced. Despite the pain, she refused to show weakness. "We need to get back to Nevermore," you said urgently.

"I can walk," she insisted, her expression cold but faltering for a moment.

Still, you didn't let go. "I'm not leaving you to handle this alone anymore, Wednesday. We're in this together. Whether you like it or not."

There was a pause. Wednesday looked at you, something different in her eyes now—an unspoken understanding. She didn't argue this time.

Once back at Nevermore, the aftermath of the fight lingered in the air. The faculty and other students rushed to deal with the Hyde situation. Tyler may have been caught, but the existence of a second Hyde shook everyone.

In the infirmary, Wednesday sat quietly as a medic stitched up her side. You hovered nearby, refusing to leave her. She had taken a hit for you—something she would never openly admit was driven by care. Yet, there was no denying it. You could see it in her eyes, in the way she had thrown herself in harm's way.

After the medic left, the room fell into silence again. Wednesday looked up at you, her face still pale from the ordeal but her gaze as sharp as ever. "You should've left. I didn't need you getting hurt."

You shook your head. "You don't get it, do you? I wasn't going to let you fight that thing alone."

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. For the first time, she sounded unsure. Vulnerable.

"Because I care about you," you said, the words heavy with emotion. "No matter how many times you push me away, no matter how many walls you put up, I still care. And that's not going to change."

Wednesday's expression shifted, her usual mask of indifference cracking just slightly. She looked away, her voice softer than before. "I don't deserve it. Any of it."

You stepped closer, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Maybe you don't think you do, but I still want to give it. I want to try again. But this time, we do it differently. No more pushing each other away. No more lies."

She looked at you then, her dark eyes searching yours. "I won't make promises I can't keep," she said, her voice careful. "But I'll try."

That was all you needed to hear.

Over the following days, things between you and Wednesday began to shift. She was still Wednesday—cold, sarcastic, and not the type to suddenly become affectionate. But there were subtle changes. She would sit with you at lunch, even if she pretended it was because she "needed a distraction." She would find excuses to be near you, even though she claimed it was because you "were less annoying than most people."

And sometimes, late at night, when she thought no one was watching, you'd catch her glancing your way, a fleeting softness in her gaze.

It wasn't a perfect second chance. Wednesday still had her thorns, and there were moments when she reverted to her distant self. But it was different now. You weren't afraid of getting hurt, and she wasn't afraid to let you in—at least, a little bit.

One evening, as you both sat in the darkened library, Wednesday quietly reading while you worked on an assignment, she spoke without looking up from her book.

"I saw you," she said suddenly.

You blinked, confused. "Saw me what?"

"That night," she clarified, still not looking at you. "When I kissed Tyler. I saw you watching."

Your heart skipped a beat at the memory. It still stung, even now. "Yeah. I remember."

"I didn't know what I was doing then," she admitted, her voice low. "I thought it was part of the plan. But when I saw the look on your face... I realized it wasn't just a case. I had hurt you. More than I should have."

You didn't say anything at first, letting her words sink in. This was as close to an apology as you'd get from Wednesday Addams.

"I hated you for it," you admitted softly. "But I hated myself more for still caring."

She finally looked at you then, her expression unreadable. "I won't kiss him again."

It was a strange way of promising something deeper—something more than just avoiding mistakes. But it was enough for now.

You nodded. "Good. Because I'd prefer you didn't."

There was a brief silence before she spoke again, her voice softer. "I've never had this before. I don't know how to handle it."

You gave her a small smile. "Neither do I. But we'll figure it out together. One step at a time."

And for the first time, Wednesday didn't have a sarcastic retort. She simply nodded, closing her book and resting her hand on the table between you—just close enough that, if you reached out, you could touch it.

You didn't yet, but the gesture was enough. For now.

[yuomizuu]

♡ | holiday, peppermint candy ── childe x reader !

synopsis: it’s the most wonderful time of the year in which everything is merry and bright! well.. it would be, if you weren’t so cramped with schoolwork. but as the saying goes, there’s always room for a christmas miracle to find its way in, even if temporary.

additional: w.c 1.6k ⸝⸝⸝ ( content includes: modern au, uni au established rs, gn reader, holiday fluff, mini smau snippet at the end )

(🧣 ) yuomi’s note: plays the trumpet poorly – introducing my holiday piece of the @stellaronhvnters secret santa event! this gift is specially written for and in dedication of @mitsvriii !! i hope you enjoy this piece ohka ^w^ ahshwaj i lowk struggled for a bit trying to grasp childe’s character since i haven’t ever written for him before so im hoping i got his characterization right for the most part😭im wishing you a very happy and wonderful merry christmas and a happy new year as well! may the coming year treat you kindly in your future endeavors <3

once more, it appears as though that particular time of the year is starting to steadily approach. where a light snowfall pleasantly greets you on a slow morning and you bask in the tranquil silence of the world outside through frosted window-panes whilst the city transforms itself into a snowglobe of winter wonderland.

for some individuals, they cannot help but dread this time of year. the idea of having the once long days now cut short, shoveling heaps of snow off their cars or driveways, and wearing layers upon layers of clothes just to keep warm was anything but agreeable. of course, you understood such sentiments; it wasn’t like you haven’t had your fair share of difficult winters before such as that one time you ( unfortunately ) ended up waiting an hour for the bus outside in the freezing cold, only for it to never show up. your entire body had felt completely numb, you almost couldn’t even bring yourself to walk back to your apartment thinking that it was probably a better fate to just freeze to death. needless to say, you ended up skipping out on all your classes for that day — something that your boyfriend, ajax, found to be far too exciting than it should have been.

because while you remained moping and complaining to him on the phone about having to miss out on your classes and therefore, unable to take notes which will undoubtedly cause you to fall behind in the semester, he appeared to have other things planned up his soft winter sweater sleeves.

“—and the worst part about it is that the professor doesn’t even upload the lecture slides online! how does he expect us to have our notes written down when we can’t even have access to the damn thing?”

the frustration in your tone is evident and ajax does his best to respond with understanding of the situation, something you appreciate him for in that moment because archon knows you’d be long spiraling into a panic by now without his voice of reason. “i’m sorry to hear that babe, is there no one from your class that you can ask to send you the notes?”

heaving out a sigh, you sink further back into your bed with a frown, running a hand over your face. “no… lynette is usually able to help me with that but she went away on some holiday vacation with her family last week. i have no idea how she isn’t stressing out about this like i am.”

”hmm, what about emailing your professor for the lecture notes?”

for the next short while, you and ajax went back and forth on discussing different solutions to your dilemma with the former occasionally voicing a ridiculous suggestion like raiding him in snowballs or sending him an overbaked, unsavory fruitcake for the holidays. admittedly, they coaxed a chuckle or two out of you, briefly distracting you from the overtaking stress until you need to quickly redirect the conversation back to that matter at hand.

as the two of you continued to discuss however, you couldn’t help but notice the odd sniffle or two that would sound on the other line

”ajax, are you coming down with a cold?” you asked, an undertone of concern in your voice that elicited a soft chuckle to ring in your ear.

”no, no, i’m alright babe. i was just outside for a bit taking out the trash. it was supposed to be scara’s turn but you know how he is with this kind of weather.”

an unknowing sigh of relief slips past. “okay good — make sure you’re bundling up properly before going out, and warm yourself up right away once you get back inside. you’ll catch a nasty cold if you don’t.”

”i will, i will..” you could almost hear a slight hint of a smile in his voice as he answered. even when you were in the middle of dealing with an academic crisis, you still went out of your way to make sure that he was doing okay. “buut… i want you to warm me up instead.” 

“huh? me?” you question, pointing to yourself as though he could see you in the first place. “i mean unless there’s a way for me to do that through a phone call, i don’t think i can even—eh? ajax?”

the call abruptly ends with the other end hanging up and you pull your phone away from your ear, blankly staring at ajax’s intact page in confusion. strange… did he lose signal? a power outage maybe? or maybe his wifi’s finally kicked the curb.

just before you could press the call button again to see if you could still call him, the sound of knocking on your door grabs your attention. with a small groan, you climb out of bed and make your way over, unsure of who awaits on the other side. honestly, who would even be out and about in such cold weather in the first place? and yet to your surprise, the moment you open the door you’re suddenly enveloped in a chilling embrace.

“ack! ajax?” well that was certainly unexpected.

burying his face into your neck, the man lets out a small, content sigh, his warm breath fanning against your skin which is a complete contrast to the coldness nipping at his nose — or his entire body for that matter.

a shiver runs down your spine. ”ajax! you’re freezing!” you complain, attempting to squirm out of his grasp that only results in him tightening his arms around you even more.

”that’s why i’m hugging you, so you can warm me up,” he mutters, voice muffled against your neck and you can't help but almost deadpan in response.

“that’s such a cheesy thing to say..” 

“maybe, but you love it either way!” he remarks, pulling back with a smile that you always resembled to a golden retriever ( demeanor wise ). he then feigns a look of thought. “or would you prefer if i did this instead?”

before you can even take a moment to wonder what he means, he’s already reaching out and cupping your face with his ice cold hands, the feeling of which has you yelping in protest once again. “babe, no! stop treating me like your personal heat warmer!”

yet no matter how many times you attempt to pull your head away from his hold, he doesn't seem to budge in the slightest, simply staring at you in amusement. eventually though, he relents from torturing you any further with his teasing antics, giving a light pinch to your cheeks until he leans in and captures your lips in a brief, chaste kiss that manages to make your face grow flush, almost to the point where you can’t tell if it’s his hands that had warmed up already or your face is just too hot to even realize.

“now that i’m all nice and warm, we can start having our indoor christmas date!” ajax says, welcoming himself further into your home without explaining himself any further.

“wait… what? ‘indoor christmas date?’” you repeat, still a bit dumbfounded from the kiss shared a moment ago. closing the door behind, you walk over to the kitchen counter where ajax as already set down his backpack, watching him pull out the various things carried inside one by one.

“well, since you won’t be able to attend your classes today, i figured it was the perfect opportunity for us to spend the day together instead. look! i brought packets of hot chocolate we can make, your favorite christmas movies–along with some of my own–and i even found these cool little gingerbread house building kits in my dorm!”

you have to admit, a part of you can’t help but become intrigued at all the items and activities placed before you. college so far has been nothing short of stress and fatigue on your already weary self, taking up so much of your time throughout the past month or so. because of that, you’ve barely gotten the chance to even enjoy the festivities of the holidays this year, too preoccupied with meeting deadlines and wrapping up group projects. now that you’re presented with the opportunity to indulge in the holiday spirit and best of all, with your boyfriend, you’re almost tempted to give in. but…

“ajax, this is all really sweet but.. i really can’t spend the day doing all this, i’ll still need to catch up with my classes online and do the work there–”

“c’mon babe, please? just for a little while and then i promise i’ll help you figure something out with your classes.” 

archons.. there he goes giving you that look again, the one he knows you can’t resist no matter how much you attempt to deny it. you let out a sigh of resignation. “.. okay fine. but only for a little while and that’s it.”

that supposed plan of yours ended up going down the drain real quick.

although the situation with your professor ( or the rest of your classes for the day ) was far from over, you would inevitably find yourself forgetting about that situation entirely throughout the rest of the day. your build up of stress would be released via warm cuddles beneath soft heated blankets and equally warm cups of hot chocolate as you and ajax would have a marathon of some of your favorite christmas movies. but that was of course after you two spent a good while making your gingerbread houses together. at first it started out as a cute little activity with the goal of just getting the pieces to remain standing for longer than two seconds but after about ten minutes or so into the session, that was when you noticed ajax began to get a little too invested into his gingerbread house. for  now though, you’ll simply ignore the way he went full on architect mode on his building–sooner or later all his hard work will be reduced to nothing but mere crumbs and leftover pieces of candy, but you won’t tell him that.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

divider credits: @/issysh3ll

[eclipsethemagic]

Welcome home |Choi Soobin|

Summary:  soobin has been gone for months, just to think he wasn't coming home for Christmas. Well, that is what he told you.

paring:  non!idol soobin x!female reader

genre: fluff

w.c: 2,058

Song of the day: Red lights by stray kids

s.masterlist

A/n: hehe let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

ps. i miss my bunny boy :(

"You're kidding." It is the first thing that comes out your mouth that makes Soobin whine on the other end of the line and you had to fight the smile that would form on your lips. Soobin has been home for about two months to be with his parents to help out a little more. But that little more ended up turning to a third month because of the snow and he promised you that he'll be back, and you know he couldn't help that Mother Nature just wasn't on his side or yours for that matter.

"Baby I'm sorry, we got more snow later last night, if I can get my flight a little early tomorrow I'll be there Christmas morning I promise, you just have to trust me, you trust me, right Princess?" He says with a little hope that you trust in him. "Sadly yes." You hear him gasp in typical Soobin fashion making you giggle a little. "The fact my girlfriend doesn't trust me enough makes me feel like I need to work harder. But I have to go, I love you, baby."

"And I love you more." Soobin hangs up the phone and you sigh bring your phone from your ear and put it on the bed before getting up. Soobin and you have been together for about almost two years, and the relationship has had its ups and downs. Mostly from you and your own insecurities. To be honest, Soobin has been the only person who you truly loved. The only person who you know goes out of his way to make you feel happy and complete. You couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend.

"Soonie! Can you help me with this box?" Soobin's mother yells from upstairs in his family home. Soobin gets up from the couch and runs up the stairs to see his mom in one of the guest rooms. "Mom, what are you doing?" He chuckles and takes the box from her hands. His mother smiles and brings the front of her hand to wipe her forehead. "Well- wait you can just set it on top of that one in the corner. But I'm just doing a little bit of cleaning." She answers walks over to the closet and pulls out a thick white blanket. "Also when you go home later on tonight bring this to y/nie, I know she'll love it!" Soobin nods as he puts the box in the corner and also grabs the blanket his mother is holding up.

Soobin's family loves you, maybe they loved you more than they loved him but he could sacrifice his title for you any day. Especially his mother, from the first time she laid eyes on you, you won her heart and that's all it took for soobin to know that you were the one. Which now brings him to the present, how the hell was he supposed to get home without you knowing?

Yeah, soobin lied but he wanted it to be a surprise. He knew how much you missed him, and how much you understood. But he also knows that once you know that he lied about Not being able to come home you might hit him. But was it the price he was willing to take? Yeah. Because he missed you, he missed your smile and the sweet cinnamon smell that filled the room. He missed having you in his arms, and he also missed your lips. He loved to kiss you every single day. Just something about how your lips felt on his that made him feel complete, right at home. "I'm sure she'll love it take you, Mom." He mumbles and kisses his mother on the cheek before grabbing the blanket from his mother and walking out of the guest bedroom to his own room to finish packing the rest of his things.

It was around 7:30 when Soobin got off the phone with yeonjun early that morning to make sure you were out of the house. He walks into the house and drops his suitcase on the floor before he lets out a big sigh. The whole house smelled like baked cinnamon rolls and vanilla, a smell he could never not like. He noticed you moved a few things around, like the couch and the book shelve. In the corner of the living room stood the Christmas tree you two put up every year, this year you had to put it up by yourself which made Soobin feel a little bit sad. But he promises he'll make it up to you one way or another.

"Alright let's get started."

"Is it good?" Beomgyu asks you when he sits next to you at the kitchen table. He had made you some pancakes, a new family recipe he wanted to try for you. You nod and take another bite before reaching for your water. You have been over to yeonjun and his best friend Beomgyu's house for a few hours, ever since he got you this morning. And as much as you loved the two of them it was getting closer to 12 in the afternoon, and you really wanted to go home and just sit on your couch. "So, y/n? You know we love you dearly right?" Yeonjun says when he puts his cup down on the table. You nod looking at him. "Yeah? Did you do something wrong?"

His eyes widen for a moment before waving his hands in the air. "Pfft! No! I just, you have to stay here for another hour or so...Because we miss you so much! Right Beomgyu?"

"Who's we- ow. Yeah!" Beomgyu mumbles beside you. Another hour? You don't know how much you could take being with them. And as much as you want to argue you know that Yeonjun doesn't back down, he's stubborn just like his best friend that's next to you. So maybe another hour wouldn't be so bad.

But you spoke too soon when the two started to argue over the show you three were watching. "But I don't understand, how come he doesn't know it's her? I mean she's pointing out everything as they talk on the phone."

"Would you know if I sat up there and said I wasn't happy in my marriage but I'm not saying it as ME, I'm saying it as the PERSON I'm talking about," Beomgyu says passionately to his best friend and it makes Yeonjun huffs out loud and cross his arms against his chest. "Still, I would have known it was you once you started calling when I'm not around you." He points out and Beomgyu nods a little before speaking. "It's a kdrama, it's building character development." His sentence makes you chuckle just a bit.

"What do you know about character development?" Yeonjun asks him and Beomgyu shrugs. "Nothing, I'm just Beomgyu. A guy who lives a boring life and lives with his best friend who happens to have no bitches on his roster but claims he does- how does Kai have more bitches than you Junie?" You let out a big sigh when the two start to argue again, you don't make out a lot of what they're saying most of it is mixed with Korean but you do know once Yeonjun says something about Beomgyu's past relationship his face sinks and his mouth forms into a frown and he stops making jokes. Yeonjun smiles as if he just defeated the biggest boss ever before he looks at his phone. "Alright, it's time to drop you off now y/n let's go."

You wave at Yeonjun one last time as he pulls out of your driveway before driving down the street. You walk into the house, and take your shoes off before putting your coat on the coat hanger next to the door. Food fills your nose when you walk more into the living room making you pause. Food? Is your mother here? The house was spotless, and then you hear sweet jazz playing in the kitchen. "Binnie?" You say as you walk into the kitchen. You see your boyfriend over the stove, flipping steak in a pan, the kitchen towel over his shoulder. He turns his head a little and smiles. "Hi baby."

"soob!" Soobin lets out a deep laugh when he sees you run over to him and give him a hug, taking the air out of his chest. Soobin missed this, he missed you, he missed your smell, your hugs. He kisses the top of your head before pulling away. He hears you sniffle and he looks down and frowns. "Why are you crying, love? Please don't cry." He mumbles and wipes your tears from your cheek. You chuckle and sniffle before shaking your head. "I just, I miss you so much Binnie, don't leave again okay?" He nods and kisses the tip of your nose before putting his lips on yours giving you a small peck. "Alright let me finish dinner, you go ahead and freshen up okay?" You giggle and nod before walking away from him and walking down the hallway to the bathroom.

When you come back you don't hear the jazz music playing anymore. Soobin sets down two plates on the table and goes back to the kitchen. You sit down at the table and look at the food in front of you. One thing about Soobin is that he knows food is the one thing to your heart. If you're sad, or mad he knows he can make you your favorite food. That's the one thing Soobin was attracted to you was the love of food, he's just like you in a way. You could put this man to bed and he still would want food the next day.

Sex for him wasn't everything.

"This is food is good bin." You say as you start to eat, cutting into the juicy steak. Soobin cheeks turn red, and he finds his hands into his face letting out a light giggle. "I didn't do much." He mumbles in his hands making you giggle with him. "It's still good love, keep cooking like this and I might never leave you."

Soobin takes his hands out his face and he smirks before grabbing his glass of wine. "Isn't that the point baby?" He brings his glass to his lips and takes a sip. "If I had it my way I'll put a ring on your finger and have a little us running around, but we can't do that can we?" Soobin lets out a laugh when he sees you roll your eyes and bring another piece of steak to your mouth. It's easy for Soobin to think about a future with you. Which is surprising because with every relationship he has had, you're the first. You're the first for him to want to have kids. You're the first for him to want to actually get married. And if that doesn't scream, I love you then Soobin doesn't know what it'll take for you to see that. But the way you smile and laugh with him throughout the dinner, he knows you also know his love for you.

"Soobin?" You say as you look away from the TV screen. Soobin hums taking his eyes from the movie in front of him and looks down at you. All you can do is smile and bring your hand to his cheek, rubbing your thumb against it. "This is by far the best Christmas ever..thank you." You hear him let out a chuckle. "I didn't do much baby.."

"But you did enough, this. Being with you, being around you. You surprised me and even brought back my favorite chocolate. That's enough. You are enough. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas, my love." Soobin leans in, bending down to put his lips on yours before looking at you, his dark brown eyes staring down back at yours, his orbs sinking you into a dark abyss. "And I love you baby, merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you my love."

TAG LIST!

@rapmonie2047 @lattyjiji @lusciaa1 @lalagilmoregirly @muchwita @kimynsblog @marcellaxworld @aripandaception @angelicicy @bella-feed @me-from-the-moon @ctkvi @bangchansmami @babiekooks @m88nstar @shannon0310 @trohmantics

(if you are tagged I seen that you liked the series master list and just assumed you wanted to get more updates lmao, if you don't please let me know!)

[chaengluva]

Assigned To You

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 1.9k (soz, short ik)

Warnings: reader crying (emotional drunk), fluff

Part 5: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist! (this is the second last chapter, maybe last....) It depends

The weight of guilt had been like an anchor around your chest ever since that night. The words you said to Ellie still echoed in your mind, each repetition making your regret sharper and deeper. She had been nothing but understanding, but you had let your fear control you. You had been terrified of the world, of what people would say, of losing the life you’d built for yourself. But you never stopped to consider how much you could lose by pushing her away, by denying yourself and your feelings.

The next few days felt like a blur. You went through the motions—school, meals with your family, awkward interactions with friends—but all you could think about was Ellie. Her laughter. Her smile. The way she had looked at you when she still believed in what the two of you could be. You’d shattered that belief, and now you were left trying to piece things back together, only to realize how much damage had already been done.

It wasn’t just Ellie that you were worried about. You were terrified of your own reflection. Every time you thought about the future, about how things were going to change, your heart filled with dread. What if you lost everything? What if the people who claimed to be your friends turned their backs on you? What if the world didn’t accept you for who you really were?

But in your heart, you knew there was no going back. You couldn’t stay in the shadow of fear forever. Not when the person you cared about most was Ellie. Not when you knew she deserved more than the broken apology you had given her. She deserved the truth. She deserved someone who could stand by her and love her openly, without hesitation or shame.

You couldn’t pretend anymore. You couldn’t run from what you were feeling. And so, when you woke up that morning, something inside you snapped. You had to face this. You had to face her, and more importantly, you had to face yourself.

You got out of bed and walked over to your desk. Your phone sat there, still glowing from last night’s message. Ellie’s words had meant everything to you. They were a lifeline, a sign that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption. But you knew you couldn’t fix everything over text. The only way forward was to show up, to prove that you were ready to take responsibility for the hurt you had caused.

It was early, and you hadn’t had your coffee yet, but you didn’t care. You were already on your way out the door before your brain could convince you otherwise. The drive to Ellie’s house was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. Your palms were sweaty, your stomach in knots. You kept picturing the look on her face—the way she had looked at you with those sad eyes, like she wasn’t sure whether she could ever trust you again.

When you arrived at her house, your heart was pounding in your chest. You hesitated at the door, raising your hand to knock. What if she didn’t want to see you? What if she didn’t care anymore? But before you could overthink it any further, the door opened, and there she was—standing in front of you, arms crossed, eyes guarded.

“What do you want?” Ellie’s voice was flat, devoid of the warmth it had once held when she greeted you. It stung, but you understood. You had earned that coldness.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “Ellie, I’m so sorry,” you began, your voice trembling. “I said those things because I was scared. I’ve been scared of what people will think, scared of losing everything, but… I hate myself for hurting you. I hate myself for pushing you away.”

Ellie didn’t move. Her expression softened for a moment, but she didn’t let go of her distance. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the way it still lingered even though she wasn’t showing it. She was hurting too, but she wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily.

“I… I can’t be a lesbian. It’ll ruin everything—my reputation, my friends, everything I’ve worked for. And I know that makes me sound selfish and awful, but it’s the truth. I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to deal with us.”

The words hung in the air between you, but instead of the anger you expected, you saw Ellie’s eyes soften just a little more. She stepped forward, closing the distance between you. For a brief moment, you thought she might forgive you, that maybe you could fix this, but then her words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“That didn’t mean anything,” she said, her voice firm. “You can’t just cry your way out of this, Y/N. You hurt me, and you need to figure out who you are before you drag me along with you.”

Her words stung more than you could have imagined. You nodded, your throat tight, unable to say anything more. What could you say? How could you make her understand that you didn’t want to hurt her, that you hadn’t meant to push her away? You had to leave. You had to let her have the space she needed, but that didn’t make the hurt any less.

You turned and walked away, feeling more broken than ever. But as you reached the end of her driveway, you realized something. You were still carrying the weight of the apology you needed to give, the one you hadn’t quite figured out yet. You couldn’t give up now. You couldn’t let this be the end.

That night, after a long and difficult day at school, you sat at your desk, pencil in hand. You weren’t an artist. You didn’t have a natural talent for drawing. But you needed to do something, anything, to show Ellie that you were sorry. You weren’t sure if it would fix anything, but maybe it would show her that you still cared, that you weren’t just trying to sweep everything under the rug.

You sketched, your hand moving almost instinctively, guided by the memories of her—her smile, the way her hair framed her face, the way she looked at you when she was happy. When you were done, you looked at the drawing, and your heart sank. It was awful. The proportions were off, the lines were messy, and her face looked nothing like the perfect image you had in your mind. But it was real. It was from the heart.

The next day, at school, you sought Ellie out. You had no idea how she would respond, but you knew you had to try. You approached her in the hallway, the drawing folded in your hands. She was standing with her friends, talking and laughing, but when she saw you, she excused herself and came over.

“Ellie,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “I made this for you. I know it’s not much, and I know I’ve been horrible, but… I just wanted you to have it.”

Ellie looked at you for a long moment, then glanced down at the folded paper in your hands. She took it slowly, unfolding it with care. You held your breath as she studied the drawing, her expression unreadable. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, like it might explode any second.

Then, to your surprise, she laughed. “Is this supposed to be me?” she asked, her voice light, but not mocking. There was a small, amused smile on her lips.

You flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah… I’m not exactly Picasso.”

Ellie smiled again, the first real smile you had seen from her in days. “It’s terrible,” she said, shaking her head, but there was no malice in her voice. “But it’s kind of sweet. Thanks, Y/N.”

The tension in your chest loosened just a little. It wasn’t perfect, and you didn’t know if it would fix everything, but it was a start. It was a step in the right direction.

But even as you felt a small flicker of hope, you knew there was still more to do. You couldn’t ignore Olivia and the damage she had caused, the lies she had spread about you and Ellie. You had to stand up for yourself, for your truth.

You found Olivia later that day, leaning against her locker with a group of her friends. When she saw you, she dismissed them with a wave and turned to face you. Her smirk was as sharp as ever, her eyes gleaming with something like amusement.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Y/N,” she drawled. “What do you want?”

You squared your shoulders, refusing to let her intimidate you. “I know what you did,” you said, your voice steady, even though your hands were shaking. “You had no right to twist things and tell Ellie I was talking about her.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing wider. “I was just being honest. Ellie deserves to know what kind of person you are.”

You scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. Why are you so obsessed with me? Is it because you can’t stand the idea of me being happy?”

Olivia’s expression darkened. “You’re pathetic, Y/N. You think you can be a lesbian and still keep your perfect little life? If you go through with this, I’ll make sure everyone knows who you really are.”

Her words stung, but you stood your ground. You didn’t need her validation anymore. “Do whatever you want, Olivia,” you said coldly. “I don’t care anymore.”

You turned on your heel and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel afraid. You felt defiant. If Olivia wanted to try and ruin you, fine. You were done hiding.

Later that evening, you sat in your room, your phone in hand. Olivia’s words replayed in your mind, but instead of fear, you felt something else—something stronger. You were ready to take control of your story, to stop letting others dictate who you were.

You snapped a picture of yourself—no makeup, messy hair, raw and vulnerable. It wasn’t the most flattering picture, but it was real. It was you. And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t care what anyone else thought.

You uploaded the picture to Instagram with the caption: “This girl is a girl kisser.”

Your finger hovered over the post button for a moment, but then you took a deep breath and pressed it. The photo went live, and almost immediately, the likes and comments started rolling in.

“Proud of you, Y/N ”

“You’re so brave omg!”

“Girl kisser AND stunning? Unfair.”

“Love this for you!”

Not a single bad comment. Except, of course, for Olivia, who wrote, “You’re disgusting.” But you ignored her. She didn’t matter anymore.

Then, just as you were about to put your phone down, you saw a new message pop up. It was from Ellie.

“I saw your post. I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

You stared at the message, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t the happy ending you had imagined, but it was a start. And for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but you were getting there. And that was enough.

Taglist: @vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez @deathbydollz @hemmo01 @soodle-noup @reneesub @ellensmithxo@lamorenita @kissedberries @liasxeatt @smiths-fan--13 @0phantom0

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 7/8

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

-

Chapter Seven

He couldn’t sleep. He was tired, but he just couldn’t actually sleep. When he closed his eyes, he saw Tommy. Buck saw Tommy as he’d been over the last week, more reticent than usual. Quieter. Rarely looking at Buck, and looking through him too. Buck hadn’t known he was going to miss him as much as he did. He was right there, Buck saw him more than he saw most of his roommates and yet he was so far away. 

Buck had given him a week already and he’d been hurt enough at first to think it would be better if he didn’t try to talk to Tommy, but the way that he couldn’t stop thinking about Tommy was making him reconsider. 

Buck groaned. He sat up from how he’d sprawled himself on the sofa. Usually it was the perfect place to nap. 

“You okay there, Buck?” Hen asked. 

Buck groaned again. He wondered if she knew already, if Karen had gone home and told her about Buck being bi. Maybe she hadn’t. 

“I really was shopping last night. I was doing some research and I stayed up all night. I just don’t think I would have slept even if I didn’t have that though.” 

“Why is that?” 

Buck let out a sigh. “I’m…I can’t stop thinking about someone. I’ve never felt like this before, I don’t think. I’ve been with a lot of women and there’s always the hope for more, but this is not like that. I just close my eyes and my thoughts just drift to him and I keep trying to just figure out a way to get over this but it’s like it’s all I can think about. I don’t get stuck on anyone. Ever. Not like this.” 

He hadn’t been like this even after losing his virginity, other than knowing that sex was fun and that he wanted more of it. Yes, he’d been disappointed in the past when he chatted someone up on one of the apps and he thought there could be more and they told him they were just after a bit of fun. Buck understood. He moved on to the next person and this time…maybe it was that he still saw Tommy almost every day. He wasn’t out of sight and he was definitely not out of mind. 

“Wait,” Hen said, “did you say him?”

Buck just nodded. “I’m…I realized a couple of weeks ago that I’m bi.”

He glanced at her and Hen just nodded. “That…you know what, Buck, that tracks.”

“What?” 

Hen chuckled. “Do you know how often you flirt with guys on calls? All the time. The girls, they approach you, but you’re the one that starts talking to the guys. I can’t say I didn’t wonder, but you never said anything so that was not my business.” 

“You should have,” Buck said. “That would have been a lot easier.” 

She laughed again. “I’m sure. So you hooked up with a guy and you want it to be more?” 

Didn’t he always want it to be more? He was always just so hopeful that he was liked enough and that whoever he was with had enough fun to want to hang out or try for even more than that. With Tommy there had been the night of their first kiss and Tommy inviting him into his bed. Buck would have been okay if it ended there. Okay, maybe he would have thought it to death, but it would have been par for the course. The difference was that Tommy had asked him on a date and Tommy had gone along when Buck followed him to the bathroom and Tommy had been just as eager to get back to his house as Buck had been after the date. 

Tommy had said he liked Buck. That had to mean that at some point he’d been thinking whatever they had going would turn into more, right? 

Buck nodded at Hen. “It happened a few times. We went on a date and then…then I mentioned he was the first guy I’d ever been with and it was like a switch flipped.”

“Oh,” Hen said. 

Buck hadn’t expected that he was going to explain what went down, but suddenly, it all just came right out. He realized that he did want to voice it. With Karen he hadn’t felt all that comfortable to say everything. Connor wouldn’t understand. Hen, though…Hen knew him. 

“We talked about it and it’s not like he kicked me out right there and then but I woke up and he’d left me in bed and then when I went to find him, he just kinda made it seem like he wanted me to leave so I left and since then we haven’t talked. It was a week, Hen, not even. One date. Neither of us said it but a second date wasn’t out of the question. So, why do I miss him so damn much?” 

Hen grabbed his hand. “Look, maybe you should find a way to talk to him again even if it is just for closure. Seems to me that’s what you both probably need. Just be prepared for it to just be closure.” 

“Right,” Buck said. “I guess that’s all I can hope for. Not sure it’s going to change anything for me.” 

“You can’t force someone to be with you. You can talk to them and maybe that will help. Who knows, Buck. One day you’ll find someone that you can get excited over.” 

“Thanks, Hen.” 

“And go down to the cots, you’ll sleep better there.”

Buck didn’t actually think he would. He headed down and almost missed a step when he saw Tommy. He was with Chim and they were rolling up hoses. Tommy’s arms were a distraction that Buck couldn’t look away from. It took him a minute to shake that off and continue down the stairs, past Tommy and Chim to the bunk room. Buck didn’t think he would manage to nap, but maybe closing his eyes would be enough to give him some rest. 

-

He shouldn’t have cared if Evan had already gone out and hooked up with someone. It was, after all, what Tommy expected from him. Except that, in that moment when he thought that was what had happened, he’d been angry. Jealous. But, and he didn’t think Evan would lie, Evan hadn’t spent all night fucking someone else. He’d spent it shopping and researching. Tommy knew exactly what it was Evan had likely been researching. 

After he’d finished helping Chim roll up the hoses so they were ready the next time they needed them, he found himself heading up the stairs. Hen was on the couch reading. Bobby was in his office. Some of the others had started a game of pool, but Tommy ignored them when he was called over, in favor of going to Hen. 

“Good book?” 

“Karen picked it up the other night,” she said. “It’s good so far. You’d probably like it, it has a romance subplot.” 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I like things other than romance as a genre.” 

“And how many romantic Christmas movies have you watched this month?” Hen asked. 

“Not that many,” Tommy said. 

Hen rolled her eyes. “Your definition of not that many is questionable at best. You know for the romantic that you are, you really don’t put yourself out there enough. I can’t remember the last time you dated anyone.” 

“Dating in real life is not like in the movies. Or in books. It’s also mostly straight and white,” Tommy said. “The fairy tale is nice, but it isn’t real.” 

Tommy had come out to Hen a few years ago, she was the first one that he told at the 118. He’d been so nervous, but saying it outloud and admitting it had been freeing. He’d told Chim soon after that. That was probably when Tommy had finally started to embrace his true self, when he was ready for more than just sneaking around. 

“I guess maybe it’s time I actually download one of those apps.” 

Hen laughed. “Good luck with that.” 

“We can’t all be set up by Chim, you know.” 

“Hey, maybe he has a gay neighbor.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “There was…there was someone. You know, exactly the type of person I’d want but I don’t want to put my all into something that has an end date.” 

Hen sat up, lowered her book. “How do you know it has an end date?” 

“I don’t, but that’s how it ends when you’re the first person they have a gay experience with.” Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “You get that right, like you still remember your first? First is never going to be more than that. It’s eye opening. It’s exciting. There is so much mixed in with it that it just won’t really end up working.” 

“Well, not if you don’t give it a chance,” Hen said. “Every relationship could end. Hell, Karen and I could break up. We did after the whole Ava thing and for a bit there I was sure we weren’t getting back together even though I’m pretty sure she’s the love of my life. But refusing to even try won’t get you closer to finding someone that goes the distance, Tommy. Refusing to face the obstacles and the hard times won’t get you anywhere.” 

“Yeah, but maybe I’m just meant to be alone,” Tommy said. “It’s been working so far.” 

“I would buy that if you actually wanted to be alone,” Hen said. “But you don’t. You’ve never wanted that. That guy, maybe you gave up too quickly.” 

Before he could respond, they were being called out. It left Hen’s words running through his mind. 

He and Hen rushed down the stairs. Tommy spotted Evan coming out of the locker room a little dishevelled. Cute. It would hurt so much if he actually did try and be with Evan for real and it failed. Maybe that was the whole point. 

Evan got to the truck before Tommy and Tommy climbed in after him, accidentally brushed the back of his hand against his and heard Evan gasp. Saw the way that he blushed and looked away out the window. 

They arrived at the mall where apparently a fight broke out in the line to see Santa. Tommy was curious, but he didn’t want to know exactly what had started it. The fight had brought down the whole display, injured several people, and even Santa had been taken down. His chair had collapsed and the stage hadn’t been able to catch the weight of the chair or Santa and so his left arm and left leg had gone through the thin plywood and the chair was half on him, keeping him pinned. 

It took the better part of an hour to get everyone looked at and to get Santa out, the kids watching anxiously behind a rope not helping one bit. 

“I never believed in Santa,” Evan said while he and Tommy cut through the plywood to make it easier to get Santa out. 

Santa made a noise at that. 

Chim shot Evan a look from where he was taking Santa’s vitals. 

“Maybe don’t say that too loud or the kids will hear you,” Tommy said. 

“Oh. Right,” Evan said, glancing over at the kids. 

Once they got Santa out and Chim and Hen took over looking at his leg and arm, Evan actually wandered over to the kids. 

“Hey, guys, just wanted to let you know Santa is going to be just fine,” Evan announced to them. “He’ll be good as new come Christmas Eve. Don’t you worry about all the presents he has to deliver. He’s magic, you know.” 

Tommy couldn’t look away, not from the way that Evan crouched down to talk to a little girl that barely came up to Evan’s knee or how he high fived a little boy with askew glasses. Evan stayed with the kids for a few minutes longer and Tommy just watched. Admired. He hadn’t forgotten that this side of Evan existed, but to have it presented in front of him gave him pause. 

When they were back out at the truck, Tommy couldn’t help but turn to Evan. “So, enlighten us, why didn’t you believe in Santa?” 

Evan looked surprised for a moment, like the last thing he’d expected was to have Tommy say anything to him. 

“I never once got what I asked for, just the things my parents thought were appropriate. Practical things. When I asked them point blank, they just told me it was a story, that of course he wasn’t real.” 

Tommy’s own parents hadn’t been great. His dad in particular had gotten truly bad the older Tommy got, but his mom had tried when it came to the holidays even after Tommy had grown out of thinking magic was real and that Santa was real. 

“That sucks, Buck,” Chim said. 

“I mean it doesn’t matter. My parents weren’t good parents, but they meant well. They’re good people.”

Tommy didn’t know what that meant. What it did make him feel was a bit of sadness for Evan and the child that he’d been once. He realized, then, that for all that Evan loved to overshare, he rarely spoke about his family. This was the first that Tommy had ever heard about them and it seemed it was the same for everyone else. Even when they had spoken about all the jobs Evan had done before he joined the LAFD, Evan had never explained what it was that made him leave home and Tommy hadn’t pried. 

“My sister tried to make up for it,” Evan added. “We used to make cookies every Christmas and when she got her license she would take me out and we’d drive around looking at all the lights.” 

Evan had a sister. 

“Where’s your sister now?” Bobby asked. 

Evan faltered. “She…she’s back in Pennsylvania. I haven’t spoken to her in a while.”

There was a deeper story there, a reason why Evan had a frown on and a nervousness that told Tommy he didn’t want to keep talking about it. He saw Chim readying to ask a question, could see the concern on Hen. Even Bobby had turned to look at Buck. 

“Does Denny still believe in Santa?” Tommy asked. 

“Yes,” Hen said. “He also knows Karen and I go a little overboard and not all his gifts are from Santa.” 

They all laughed and he felt Evan press his leg into his, leaving it there. A thank you. Tommy didn’t move his leg away and it was such an innocent touch but it was Evan and it was his warmth and Tommy was maybe still thinking about what Hen had said earlier. 

-

Their twenty four ended early in the morning and considering his lack of sleep before the shift started and the few very short lived naps he’d managed to get while on shift, Buck was more than ready to crawl into his bed and not leave it until he had to be at work. 

He was the first to make it to the locker room and he was surprised when Tommy showed up soon after. 

“Hey,” Tommy said, which was different than how any interaction had gone between them since their date. 

“Hi,” Buck said. 

“I, uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry for ignoring you this past week. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

Buck hadn’t expected that. It was the last thing he expected from Tommy after how quick he’d been to drop Buck. He did think that Tommy had been thawing out a bit all shift, but enough for him to actually apologize. 

“You just blind sighted me, I guess,” Tommy said. 

“By not telling you that you made me realize I’m bi?” 

“Yeah. I guess I didn’t react well,” Tommy said. 

“Instead of being flattered?” 

Tommy snorted. 

Buck shrugged. “According to Hen, I’ve flirted with a lot of guys on calls. I’m also pretty sure I left Peru with Connor because I had a small crush on him. But you’re the one that really got me to see it. Says a lot about you.” 

“I — should I say thank you for that?” Tommy asked. 

“You can,” Buck said. “Shouldn’t you?” 

Tommy huffed out a small laugh. Buck loved that sound. They both heard footsteps and then Hen followed by Chim and Bobby entered. Tommy turned away. Buck finished putting his stuff away in his duffle. He slung it over his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you guys next shift,” he said. 

“Don’t forget your Secret Santa gift,” Hen said. 

“I won’t,” Buck said. 

When he looked back, his eyes met Tommy’s. There was something there, something that made Buck want to just go up to him and kiss him. Buck knew he was impulsive enough to do it, it was just that he also felt something take hold of him and hold him back. 

He turned away instead and walked out. A moment later he heard footsteps behind him. Tommy was rushing after him. 

“Evan,” he called out. 

Buck turned. He expected Tommy to say something, maybe continue the conversation that was interrupted.

“Tommy?” 

Tommy stepped into his space, his hand lifted up and tipped his chin up and then he was kissing him.

[thoughtfulfangirling]

The fire looked at home in her eyes, and it was true that for the rest of Yael’s life, Angela would never see it die out. Her family’s ranch was always burning in her eyes, and because it never left her vision, she never saw the flowers that grew later.

AHHH! I remember reading this! I'm so excited to read it again. Talk about evocative, powerful language! And really, one does not need to know a thing about Overwatch for this. God just go back up right now and read it if you haven't already.

Angela understood. In the way that it felt easy to let go of the sound her name had made on her parents’ lips, she imagined it must be so simple to slip into another name entirely. There was the name of who you were before, and you were after.

God, as a master of rambling, to evoke such a profound sense of experiences in so few words without losing any of the potency of that story... god it's so good!

Yael had somehow seemed to know this, and sat next to her on the bus up to the mountain, smiling as she looped a bunch of flowers she’d picked from the field, one over and around the other, until she’s made a crown, and plopped it onto Angela’s head with a grin.

OMG The call back to the flowers! She can pick them and she can mold them, and maybe perhaps, the fire hasn't drowned them out yet, but she's not admiring their beauty here. She's keeping her hands busy. She's picked them, robbed them of life. Not, I think, any sort of moral commentary on picking flowers here. Just... on their own it's not enough, but they haven't slipped entirely from her fingers yet, but they will. But perhaps it's more telling that she doesn't keep them for herself. She crowns Angela, like a prescient nod to the fact that Angela will always tend the flowers and keep the fire at bay. Light without burning up.

Angela sat, looking at her feet, wondering where they would go, looking at Yael’s hand, wondering where it would lead her, looking at the edge of the fire, envying its ability to burn. She did not burn. She had seen enough of burning, and would not embrace it.

Hehehe Angela will not burn. But god the way this is phrased just does it for me. 'wondering where it would lead her, looking at the edge of the fire' YAEL WOULD LEAD YOU TO FIRE BUT YOU WON'T KNOW HOW TO BURN

Fire warps and twists even the strongest metal sometimes, it seems. ... Yael looked at her for the first time, their bright blue eyes siblings but never twins, two halves of the same whole. ... Fire warps and twists even the strongest metal sometimes, it seems. ... Yael looked at her for the first time, their bright blue eyes siblings but never twins, two halves of the same whole. ... They sat, watching the fire crackle and pop and burn, sending bits of light out into the darkness, even knowing they would likely be extinguished, the fire still had to try. ... Everything existing had its opposite, her mother had told her, and when Angela was a woman not only by tradition, but by experience, she would come to understand that opposites were not only black and white, but the blue of a healing rain and the orange of a blazing fire.

Immaculate!

Set Fire to the Rain

@rhiorhino‘s prompt was “Tell me literally everything about Yael so here is the beginning of their lives intertwining. I hope you like it. 

Mercy’s mother had told her, that everything existing had its opposite. That light could not exist without the shadow, that the land was made real by the sea, that good could only persevere if there was the wall of evil to climb, and this was why so many things we would rather not have were present in this world.  That all these things were present in all humanity, as well.

Like many things her mother had said to her, it had not quite clicked into place until she was much older.

She had been thirteen, and did not understand these things, staring into a fire as other children who had lost just as much as she had warbled Hebrew songs off key. She looked down at the nametag on her chest, bearing a simple “Angela” and the small flags of the languages she spoke.

She’d stopped trying to correct the pronunciation of her name. It was mostly English spoken here, and she imagined it would be the same as she went into the international medical community. It didn’t matter anyway.

Keep reading

[speedycoffeedelight]

An Animalistic Disaster

Chapter 28 : Final decision

Masterlist

Summery :Where Alastor tries to persuade you but fails miserably

A.n : A lot of this chapter is inspired by a song. Try to guess which one it is before reaching the end !!

" What the fuck?!"

Safe to say that almost everyone lost their shit looking at Melody for an explanation. Melody laughed nervously shying away a bit under their gaze. She didn't think this would have this much impact.

" So uh...you remember your birthday right? Your mom said she would be happy if you spent that day with her."

" Uh-huh...and?"

" And that they think they found a suitable match for you. Apparently it's someone you know" she scratched her chin. " I couldn't hear the name properly. I think it was...... something!"

" And they think I'll just accept that proposal in the blink? What are they thinking? What is my MOM thinking?!" You slammed on top of the floor angrily. You didn't care if it hurt your hand or not. Out of everyone, you didn't expect your mom to agree to something like this. This felt like betrayal.

" (Y/n)....are you..are you okay? " Charlie asked in a concerned voice extending one of her hands towards you. You gave her a weak nod and smiled before hardening the features. " It's fine, I'll just say I don't agree to this. They can't force me to marry someone. That's against the law." You said in a monotone tone.

It's true while your mother has always poked at you to settle down, she never outwardly forced you to be with someone. She always said that you were becoming a big girl and maybe someone by your side would do you good instead of being alone. A mother's worries.

But this new development. This has to be the work of your dad's side. Especially your grandma. Even your dad didn't dare cross your grandma. From outside, your dad was the main person of the household, but in actuality, it was your grandma. You learnt it the hard way. She was mostly to blame for the person your father became today. You used to go her for comfort from your dad. You thought your sweet sounding grandma understood you. Until you realized she blamed YOU for every time you cried to her about unfairness from your dad, not her child. You lost another person dear to you that day, and never sought her out ever again.

You snapped back to reality suddenly to sound of arguments and planning. All of the crew were arguing and talking over each other on how to prevent it. You sighed slowly standing up and going outside. You needed some fresh air. A pair of brown eyes followed your every move.

*Step* *step*

You took off your shoes a bit earlier. Moon didn't shine today. The sky looked cloudy. Cool breeze were flowing through the air making swoosh sounds around the tall trees circling the place. It might rain soon. The air felt misty. The grass beneath your feet felt pleasant as well. You could slowly feel your thoughts drifting by. ' Marriage huh? This isn't the first time I've heard that being brought up...damned dad..this is all his fault! I know it!'

You looked down at the pond as your own reflection stared back at you . suddenly another face joined besides yours in the reflection. Being spooked, you quickly whipped your head towards Alastor who was grinning with his hands behind his back. God your heart was pounding.

" Are you alright my dear?" Alastor's honey toned voice rang through the air. " I do hope you weren't hoping to jump in the pond and be done with, that would quite... disastrous!" He laughed, this bastard laughed while you were concerned for your future. " Well fortunately for you, I wasn't going to. But I will now. So if you'll excuse me, I have a pond to sink into and when I die it's going to be your fault ."

You huffed extending your feet to step into the pond angrily. You had enough of this man. Common sense left your head under all the frustration. Before the water could touch your feet you were yanked back into Alastor's broad chest. While you were trying to figure out what's happening, he held your hand and spun you around. You couldn't even comprehend or move away from his grip. Finally he dipped you low enough for your hair to almost touch the water surface as you gripped onto him tightly in fear of falling. Alastor leaned closer to your neck, breathing in your scent. You smelled intoxicating.

"My dear, how about a proposal ~? "

You furrowed your eyebrows. A proposal? Whatever was he planning. And this pose...it has your heart running as fast a lighting. You looked up at his brown eyes, scanning for any sign that could possibly reveal just what he was planning. You found none.

" I think you could use a....friend in this time of need. Or a partner if you'd prefer"

Alastor was trying to choose his words carefully while scanning your face for expressions.

" Why...?"

" Why to save you from that dreadful dad of yours of course! Someone like him would be just better dead! Don't you think so?"

Panic rushed through your mind at what he was suggesting towards. You pushed him away, breaking out of his clutch easily and hugged your arms. "No! I'm not killing my father if that's what you're planning Alastor! I'm not that far gone like you. "

Alastor takes a slight offend to that. But his grin never falters. Instead he steps closer now with his arms behind his beck. His form easily towered over you forcing you to look up. " Come one dear, just a tini tiny deal, with the one you fancy the most~". He was trying to use your attraction for him as a tool. He was your favourite after all, wasn't he? No matter what that picture box or the king of hell did, they could never replace him!

He began to circle you now, like a predator circling its prey. The wind was getting even stronger making your clothes and hair flow and you could swear that you saw shadows dancing around you. Before you knew it, he was right behind you, whispering in a deep husky voice. Wait, was that...his southern accent?

You were blushing like crazy. He was using all your weaknesses against you. The closeness, his accent, the height difference. You could almost see the fluffy ears on top of his head flickering as well. You took a deep breath. You knew he wouldn't harm you. At least not while Charlie and others were present. But since you liked him, you knew enough about him to know that he is most probably using you for his entertainment. Oh well, you'll play his game for a bit. He didn't take you for a easy catch did he?

A smirk graced your lips as you turned around and lifted up on your tip toes. The first technique to throw him off the game was to get as close as possible. This guy loved getting in others personal bubble. But someone getting into his? Not so much. And it was working as you saw him back away his face a little.

" Say, If I did get my father killed, how do I know it won't come back to bite me later? How do I know you won't do a half assed job that'll get me and all the others arrested? " You poked a finger at his chest. "You sir, may have been a well-known serial killer before but times have changed, there are a whole lot more technologies and camera here now mister, that I bet your old timey ass never bothered to look into"

Alastor was effectively silenced. This was very very rare. 'Damn woman...' His ears were pinned back to his head which didn't escape your eyes. You found them cute. The fact that you were able to get under his skin so easily made you puff out your chest with a victory smirk.

"C'mon! Just give me one chance cher. Times may have changed but my skills hadn't gone that rusty yet. I can handle it and serve his head in a silver platter for you. All I require is your dear soul. Don't you want to be closer to me? " This man was literally purring in your ear.

" Listen, I'll have you know, just cause I like you, doesn't make me a easy prey. I can tell what's good for me or not. I've been swimming with piranhas all my life, now, I don't need a shark like you coming after me."

"I'm actually a deer. That picture box is the shark."

" You know what I meant smartass "

Alastor's lips curled into a smirk. Intriguing, quite intriguing indeed . He should have guessed that it wouldn't be this easy. " But don't you see, this is once in a lifetime offer! Cher, just give me your words" he suddenly grasped your hands pressing them against his chest. His eyes shined with a strong affection and determination. You gazed into his brown eyes suddenly shocked with this change.

Before you could utter anything, Charlie and Husk called your name. Alastor's brows furrowed with annoyance looking at the pair. Suddenly you were snatched away from Alastor and placed into Husk's chest who then shoved you to on top of Charlie.

" Listen here motherfucker. You may have tricked me and Charlie, but I ain't letting you trick (Y/n) too " He declared angrily flaring his nostrils. Husk's tail was all puffed up behind him angrily as he made a low hissing sound. Meanwhile Charlie was just checking up on you to see if you're okay. They heard the last few bits of talks between you two. While Charlie was more caught up with the fact of how Alastor and you were holding hands and seemed so close. You two didn't do something right? Only if she noticed a little sooner.

Alastor wasn't bothered at all by the things Husk was threatening him with, but more so at the fact that he and Charlie dared ruin his moment. He was so close to making you convinced. Spoiler alert, he wasn't. Alastor suddenly grabbed both Husk and Charlie by their collar and pulled them up close placing a hand on both of their shoulders.

" Husk and Charlie! My dears! You both came at the perfect time! Won't you put in a few good words about me to our dearest host here?"

Husk looked pissed while Charlie just looked baffled. But before they could say something, they felt their lips move on their own.

" Oh yes, Alastor helped me a lott" you heard Charlie say, except it was actually Alastor's who was mimicking Charlie's voice in a high pitch and moving her lips accordingly somehow. Their lips were darker then usual. It was the shadows that moved around Alastor. Soon enough Husk's lips started moving as well.

" Seelling my soul was the best thing I ever did kid ! Trust in this old kitty cat and make a deal with the handsome devil while you can !"

Once again it was Alastor's voice mimicking Husk's with a gruff tone in them. Alastor even pulled up his cheek a little to make the poor man copy the expression of a smile. You would have laughed if it wasn't apparent on his face of how much he hated every second of that.

" How are you doing that Al? " You asked with barely muffled laughter. Alastor's grin became ten times more bigger looking at your smile. He let go of the two making them cough immediately and rub their mouth to make the uncomfortable cold sensation of the shadows go away.

" What the fuck-"

" THAT my dear..." Alastor's booming voice cut through the Husk's as he took your hands in his once again. " Was simply an ounce of my power~ " Suddenly the shadows you saw around him made sense. " But I thought only Vaggie, Charlie and Lucifer had powers..." This bastard hid it didn't he?

You noticed in between tugging and dancing and spinning around, you both came around the lake side again. " Now then, cher~? What do you say? Do we have a deal ? " Alastor came far to close to your liking again, inhaling your scent with a blissful look on his face.

"I think...."

Alastor's smile widened parting his teeth over your neck. His breath ghosting over the skin.

" I'm going to...."

His teeth grazed your skin. You heartbeat increased rapidly.

" Have to decline! "

Alastor's eyes widened, did he just hear that correctly? But even before he could come in terms with what he heard he was suddenly pushed to the side.

*Splash*

Charlie and Husk watched in horror as Alastor was pushed into the lake by you. You wore a smirk of pride and held no regrets to what you just did. Charlie quickly ran up to you and held your shoulders while looking down at the lake in horror as Alastor face emerged from the water and shook it off .

" (Y/n) Why would you do that! "

" What? He was annoying me, plus it's not like he's dead! Consider it payback for what he did to me before. " You shrugged looking away. " My dad wants a good little daughter huh? I'll show him what a good little daughter I can be." You chewed out your words. "And I don't need his help to do it. Charlie? Husk?" You looked at the two with a smile on your lips that promised mischief.

" I think we three can handle it ourselves, don'tcha think so?" You ruffled their hair in both hands. " With Husk's tricks and Charlie's power, this thing will be easy. " Suddenly rain started pouring soaking You three all together. The wind was much faster as well. There was going to be a storm tonight. Perfect, just the weather for your current mood. You were laughing like a mad woman as they both escorted you to the cabin worryingly.

*Floosh* *splash*

Alastor coughed as he sat back the shore. His ears were pinned back to his head as he shivered at the cold. Each drop of rainwater felt almost like a cold bullet. He took off his glasses and shook his head. It didn't do much to dry his head but it pushed away all the leaves and other stuff from on top of his head. He felt disgusting. He started growling in anger, ears pinned behind his head. ' Oh I'm going to strangle that girl in her sleep I swear- '

" Need a hand old friend ? "

He immediately swiped his head back. This lousy picture box was here. This damned shark head. Scowling, he stood up and tried to figure out just how much of that he saw.

" If you're looking for others, they already headed back inside."

Two of them stood there as rain continued to fall over their heads. " What are you doing outside exactly Vox? Did you come here just to mock me is it?" Alastor grin tightened around the hinges, almost biting into his lips now trying to keep his smile up.

" Alastor, I have a deal to make a with you, a proposal if you will "

" And what makes you think I would accept? "

" Oh I think you will "

Vox took a few steps closer to him. Alastor honey coloured eyes calculating his every move.

" It about (Y/n)'s engagement "

Somewhere a thunder fell, illuminating the entire night sky as a tree fell.

.

.

.

.

Several footsteps approached, crunching the wet leaves bellow. Flashlight shot through the dark, showing the way though a dark wood.

" I don't think we're going to find anything anymore. Let's just go home. It's getting late, my sweet wife is waiting for me."

The one in front scoffed. This new guy just came a few weeks ago and already lazing around more then the older officers. He will need to give him some more training later. He clearly forgot who he was working under with. He couldn't began to fathom how he can just relax and talk about going home so nonchalantly as if there wasn't a killer on loose.

" Plus it's been weeks till the last murder. Maybe the killer is done...... Sir ? Are you listeni-"

Suddenly the man in front steeped on something...soft. He wasn't stepping on the ground anymore. In a second his flashlight pointed to the ground with several others soon following.

" We have a new body.."

A.n : Heyyyyyyyy, yeah. So, I'm not dead, but I'm about to die from all these studies -

And so, the song in question was " say my name " from bettlejuice. I had this scene envisioned in my mind for months and now I can finally write it. This songs covers Alastor and reader's relationship quite a lot as well.

And now as always, stay tuned~

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou @aaliy89 @uniquecutie-puffs

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

just a little personal anecdote/ thought dump in the tags..

[envicd]

He was torn, bothered by the way she didn't outright believe him, but in a way he understood it as well. She knew what he was like, abrasive and callous. He had never shown much care for anyone else, constantly getting into physical altercations with people. It wasn't a stretch that she didn't buy the way he was acting now, soft and patient. "I'll just have to prove it to you, then." If that's what it took, then it's exactly what he would do. The way he felt about her, he didn't even care if in the end she decided she couldn't be with him. However long she allowed him into her space, especially like this, was worth it. He never quite allowed himself to feel like this, about anyone, or anything. His life seemed hollow, but Violet was adding substance to it. For once, he felt like he had something to live for, instead of just surviving. "Are you sure--" Violet cuts him off with another kiss, not that he minded. It's easy to fall back into it, no matter how many times they had to pause to discuss certain things. Os tests the waters again, leaning in further to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding up her sides affectionately. His fingers briefly dip underneath her shirt, caressing her back fainlty, before retreating back to something safer. He would let her decide how she felt about it first before he continued further.

violet’s chest tightens as his words settle over her, the weight of his understanding and patience wrapping around her like a soft blanket. she hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to be so unwavering, so sure of his feelings even when she wasn’t sure of her own. the warmth of his hand on her back, the gentle touch of his fingers in her hair, makes something inside her stir - something she’s long kept buried. "i don’t know why it’s so hard for me to believe you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. her eyes search again on his face for any sign that he might change his mind. she takes a deep breath, feeling the quiet strength in his words, in the way he holds her with such care. she knows he’s right. he’s not pushing, not demanding, just… waiting. waiting for her to come to him in her own time. she hadn’t realized how much she needed that space until now. how perfect it was for her. patience. care. tenderness. it's what she needed. what she wanted. she wanted os. violet can feel that in every fibre of her being. she moves the hand out of his hair, to caress his cheek. holding it gently. "but i appreciate your words. i appreciate you, os," violet said, sincerely. her eyes were locked on his. heart was pounding and she knew her cheeks were becoming flushed. because of what she was going to do next. "and i'll tell you when i need you to slow down. but... not now," she said, before moving in to kiss him again.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I’M NOT HIM

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

SUMMARY: in which rafe snaps at reader during a heated argument and she flinches, her past trauma resurfacing. rafe breaking the main promise he made to her: to not be anything like her father.

based on an ask i got that i lost </3 i hope the anon who requested it finds this, and this its what you asked for! i’m a little rusty with one-shots so just a short one to ease me into things again! :)

WARNINGS: angst to fluff, arguing, cursing, mentions of past childhood abuse (reader), mentions of a gun/brief mention of violence, trauma responses, crying. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 900 words

THIRD PERSON +

Rafe Cameron wasn’t the kind of man anyone would describe as soft. Not with the sharp edge in his voice, the perpetual storm behind his ocean eyes, and the way his knuckles bore scars from fights he barely remembered. He had spent his life battling demons, most of them inherited from Ward Cameron, and those fights had shaped him into someone who took no prisoners.

But with Y/N, none of that mattered.

Y/N was everything Rafe wasn’t—gentle, warm, full of an optimism he couldn’t begin to understand but adored nonetheless. She radiated light, the kind that made him want to shield her from the darkness in himself. For two years, she’d been his anchor, the one person who saw past the volatile exterior to the man buried beneath. And for two years, Rafe had promised himself that he would never hurt her.

But promises don’t always hold in the heat of the moment.

The argument had started over something Y/N had brought up before: the gun in Rafe’s apartment. She hated it, hated what it represented, and hated the memories it dragged up for her.

“Rafe, I told you,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t feel safe with it here. Please.”

Rafe, already wound tight from dealing with his father’s latest scheme and the growing weight of “the business,” felt his patience snap like a rubber band stretched too far.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” he muttered, pacing the living room. “It’s not like I’m walking around with it in my hand. It’s locked up, alright? Just drop it.”

Y/N didn’t drop it. She rarely did when something mattered to her. “It is a big deal, Rafe. I asked you to get rid of it. I thought you understood how—”

“I said fucking drop it!” Rafe’s voice thundered through the room, loud enough to make the walls seem smaller.

The words echoed in the sudden silence, bouncing off the tension between them. Rafe froze, immediately regretting the way he’d shouted, but it was too late.

Y/N stood there, trembling, her wide eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her lip wobbled as she tried to hold herself together, but Rafe saw the cracks forming.

“Baby…” he said softly, taking a step toward her, reaching out his hand.

She flinched. Actually flinched.

It was like a knife to his chest, sharp and unrelenting. He knew her past—knew about her father’s temper and the way it had scarred her. He knew that shouting brought her back to those dark, suffocating memories.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with panic. He reached out again, but she backed away, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I—I can’t,” she choked out before rushing to the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

Rafe rushed after her before collapsing onto the floor, pressing his back against the wall beside the bedroom door. He could hear her quiet sobs on the other side, each one driving the guilt deeper into his chest.

He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, baby” he murmured, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, just… let me make it right.”

Her sobs continued, muffled but heartbreaking. Rafe rested his head against the door, tears streaming down his face. He could picture her inside, curled up in the corner, just like she used to do as a little girl to shield herself from her father’s rage. A place he promised her she wouldn't ever have to go back to.

“I’m not him,” he whispered, as much to himself as to her. “I’ll never be him. I swear. I’ll never hurt you.”

Minutes turned into half an hour, but Rafe didn’t move. He felt he didn’t deserve to move.

When the door finally opened, Rafe almost didn’t notice at first. He’d been staring at the floor, lost in the heaviness of his own shame. But then Y/N was there, stepping out quietly and kneeling beside him.

Without a word, she crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Her touch was tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust it yet, but Rafe held her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over, his voice cracking as he clung to her. “I didn’t mean it. I swear, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She just held him, letting his warmth chase away the cold that had settled in her chest. Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her tear-streaked face breaking his heart all over again.

“Please don’t yell at me like that again,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

Rafe cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I won’t,” he promised, his tone fierce with conviction. “Never again. I’ll get rid of the gun. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just… don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Y/N said, her voice barely audible. “I’m afraid of the person you might become.”

Rafe nodded, the weight of her words sinking deep. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her tightly again. “I’ll be better,” he whispered. “For you, I’ll be better.”

In that moment, Rafe vowed to prove it. Not with words, but with actions—starting with the gun.

(dividers by @kodaswrld <3)

betty’s notes ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

ahhhh my first one-shot in FOREVER :’) it’s a short one and really sad and angsty but it felt like the quickest ask to whip out, and angst is easier for me to write atm :)

i’m so excited to start with the other requests, and please don’t stop requesting! i plan on writing most stuff 1,500 words +, this was just a short little ask so please request with as MUCH detail as possible <3

master list will be updated soon! but for now, to keep track of my works check my personalised tags that are below such as: #bettys asks!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ and #bettys work!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ or my personalised tags for characters !!

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[girlgenius1111]

learning curve

alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] r gets custody of her 5 year old nephew when her brother gets into trouble. alexia insists on sticking around even though r gives her an out. it's a new and entirely stressful situation for r, but alexia makes it a bit easier. fluff, angst, etc. this is a kidfic.

—

How was it possible? That the most ordinary of days could be just one phone call away from shattering life as you knew it. 

You should have known, really. Should have seen it coming. You were happy for the first time in a while. Happy in your career, in your relationship. Of course something would come along to change everything. 

It was a pleasant day off, the day you got the call. A slow morning where Alexia woke up way before you, but didn’t get up. Instead, she let you sleep in her arms, completely content to just… be there with you. You’d made breakfast together, Alexia’s voice raspy from lack of use, pressing kisses to your shoulders, your face, your neck, as if she couldn’t help it. It was purely and entirely happy. 

Your phone rang just after breakfast. It was an unknown number and you never answered unknown numbers but something about the call made your stomach drop. You clicked the answer button and gave Alexia an apologetic smile, walking out of the room. 

“Hello?” You greeted, tapping your foot impatiently when no one said anything right away. Alexia had put on her favorite show, and as much as you pretended to despise the soap, you were hooked. 

The robotic, pre-recorded message that began startled you.

“This call is from a person currently incarcerated in prison. All calls are logged and recorded and may be listened to by a member of prison staff. If you do not wish to accept this call, please hang up now.” 

It wasn’t shocking, not really. You’d gotten calls like this before, but not for a few years. He used to call a lot, when he first started getting into trouble, asking for money for a lawyer. At the time, you hadn’t had any to give him. Eventually those specific calls stopped. You still heard from him, but not through a call being recorded by a prison. 

He hadn’t been arrested in 5 years. And now… the stakes were much higher. 

“Hello?” The deep voice of your brother came over the line, sounding utterly defeated. 

“Leo.” You sighed. “What happened?” 

“I fucked up. I… Will wanted to start football. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t pay for boots for him. I just wanted to get him something nice.” Leo choked out. You could hear the emotion in his voice, and ignored the pang in your chest as you pictured the little boy just two years older than you, lip trembling as he promised he’d take care of everything. 

“Leo, why didn’t you call me? And ask for help?” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You’re busy and I should be able to provide for my son. I shouldn’t have to ask my little sister for help, I should have it figured out.” 

“So… this is better? Getting arrested for petty theft and then calling me for help?” You asked sarcastically, though you understood him more than you’d admit. The need to be independent, completely self sufficient. The sinking feeling you’d get when you had to ask for help with something… you still felt that, too.

Your brother was quiet for a moment. Long enough that dread started to build up inside of you again. 

“It’s not petty theft.” He said finally. “It’s grand theft. And accessory to assault. The guy I was working with went a bit rogue.” 

“Jesus.” You sighed. “How long?” 

Another long silence. 

“How long, Leo?”

“10-15 years.” 

You could practically see the tears falling from his eyes in your head, and you knew just by his tone he wasn’t calling for money. Not this time. You could see Alexia out of the corner of your eye, hovering in the doorway uncertainly. 

“I… I signed the papers, to give you custody of Will. To make it easier to take him back to Spain with you. He’d be yours, and I know it’s a lot to ask, and if I had any other option, I would, but the only other option is putting him in the system, and I don’t want that for him. I don’t. I’m so sorry to ask this of you, really I–”

“It’s okay.” You breathed. “It’s alright. Of course, I’ll take him. Of course I will.”

Alexia moved closer, resting a hand on your shoulder once she noticed the tears in your eyes. You let her anchor you, suddenly very sure that this was it with her. Today had been the last nice day you’d have with her, and you hadn’t even known it. 

 But there wasn’t a question of whether you’d do it or not. 

“Are you sure? With your career and–”

“I can make it work.” You said. “I’ll make it work.” 

“Okay.” Leo replied, sounding overwhelmingly relieved. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I–” 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can to get him.” You cut in, unwilling to hear another apology. It wouldn’t fix anything.

 Leo gave you the name of the woman to call, before saying goodbye and hanging up. Even after the call ended, you remained frozen, thinking through all the details, all the things you needed to do, unsure where to start. 

“Amor?” 

Right. That’s where you had to start. 

You turned to Alexia, your face completely impassive. It was the face you made when the team lost and you were upset, or when you got hurt and didn’t want to cry. It was you running from vulnerability, and it had been a long time since Alexia had seen you make it towards her. She’d thought you were past this. 

“My brother was arrested. I’m getting custody of his son. Will. He’s 5. I’m going to bring him back to Spain with me.” You spoke robotically, eyes fixed on a point on the wall just beyond Alexia’s shoulder. 

“Oh… oh wow.” Alexia breathed, nodding her head slowly as she took the information in. 

“It’s a good thing I didn’t get rid of my old apartment. I’ll move my stuff when I get back, you don’t need to worry about any of it. I’ll move back in there and–”

“Why would you do that?” Alexia interrupted, her face twisted with confusion. You looked at her for a moment, her brown roots growing out and the oversized t-shirt she had on. It was soft, your favorite for her to wear because you loved the way the fabric felt on your skin when she held you. 

God this was hard.  

“I… I won’t do this to you, Ale. I won’t. You don’t need this, but I have to–”

“No. Stop. We are not breaking up, and you are not moving out.” 

You turned away from her when you saw the tears in her eyes, clenching your fists tightly and taking a few slow deep breaths. She was making this so hard, but you should have known she would. 

“Alexia,” you began, your voice abruptly cutting off when the midfielder gently grabbed you by the shoulders and turned back towards her. 

“No. No.” She repeated, shaking her head over and over. “Do you love me?” 

You exhaled sharply, desperately wanting to wipe the tear off her cheek. To cradle her face in your hands, and kiss her frown away. You should lie, that would be the best choice. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

“I do, Ale. I love you so much. That’s why–”

“Then that’s it. You love me and I love you and people who love each other do not break up.” Alexia said firmly, her lip trembling even as she bit it to make it stop. 

“Alexia, please. It’s okay. You don’t have to do this with me, I could never ask you to.” 

“You are not asking. I am telling you. I am not going anywhere, and neither are you. You bring Will here and we’ll figure it out together. Together, amor.” 

She moved closer, her hands cradling your cheeks, wiping your tears away just as you’d wanted to do with hers. Somehow, she was convincing you. Like she always did. Whenever it felt too unbelievable that she loved you, whenever you became absolutely convinced that you’d tricked her or something, and tried to leave for her. She always convinced you to stay, because she knew you never really wanted to leave her. 

“It’s gonna be a lot.” You murmured, your hands finding their way to her waist, your body giving in before your brain did. “It’s gonna be really hard, especially with work.” 

“We can do it. Together.” Alexia promised, leaning forward to dust a kiss across the tip of your nose. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do it together, okay? Don’t push me out. Please.” 

“Okay.” You allowed, finally giving in and leaning into her. She wrapped her arms around your body, squeezing so tight it almost hurt. 

“Promise me? No pushing me away.” She whispered into your ear. 

“I promise.” You breathed the words back, knowing, somehow, that you wouldn’t break this promise. Never before had you gone back on something you’d promised Alexia, and you didn’t intend to start now. 

—

The plane ride had been long, and though you were already exhausted, you hadn’t slept a wink. You were wide awake when the plane took off, and wide awake when it landed hours later. Some sleep would have really done you some good, but there was nothing to do about that now. 

It was really an amalgamation of all of your least favorite things. The social services office was just as bad as you remembered it. Just as… lonely, regardless of how incredibly crowded it was. It was overly beige, from the walls down to the outfit the woman sitting across from you was wearing. Susan. Even her name sounded beige. Then, there was the paperwork. An endless pile of it on the desk in front of you. Your hand was starting to cramp from signing, and all you wanted was to see Will. Physically see him, make sure he was okay. He was somewhere in this building, surrounded by strangers. It was impossible not to picture him, all small and scared in an office, wondering if you were really coming for him. 

You remembered that feeling. No one had ever come for you and Leo. 

But you were here for Will. You were here for him, and it didn’t matter too much that he barely knew you; at least, that's what you told yourself. 

You were his aunt that lived far away in Spain, that sent at least three presents for his birthday every year, and three more for Christmas. You talked to him on the phone every so often, and Leo liked to send a picture of Will wearing your kit every few months. He liked dinosaurs and crafts, and he adored your brother. Will’s mom had never been in the picture; you’d never met her, never even gotten Leo to tell you her name. It was just the two of them, and you knew it was hard. You didn’t know it was this hard for your brother, though. You’d have stepped in much sooner if you’d known. 

Signing the last piece of paper, you inhaled deeply and slid it back across the desk towards Susan. 

“Okay! That’s everything in order. It would be a lot more complicated if your brother hadn’t signed over his rights. Great foresight of him, to have the paperwork all ready!”

Yeah. Great foresight. Leo clearly possessed that. 

“I’ll go get Will! Like I said before, he’s been having a tough time, but the minute he arrived here he asked for you, telling us he was supposed to make sure that his Aunt came for him if anything ever happened to his Dad. I think he’ll settle once he finally sees you.” 

Susan smiled kindly, stepping away from the desk and briskly walking down the hall. 

The words settled something in you that worried Will wouldn’t want to go with you, while at the same time, making you so incredibly frustrated. Leo could make sure to prepare Will for this exact situation to occur, yet he couldn’t avoid committing felonies? 

Before you could think too hard about what to say or do, there he was. Walking slowly down the hall next to Susan, a blue dinosaur clutched tightly to his chest. His brown hair fell messily around his head, in a way that reminded you of your brother. He was small, wearing a sweatshirt and shorts and a pair of velcro shoes. Small and scared, his face creased with anxiety and fear, even as he approached you. 

“Here she is!” Susan said encouragingly, gently nudging Will closer when he came to a stop just in front of you. He was gazing up at you with wide, unsure eyes, and you could see tear tracks on his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy. He was so small. 

It was instinctual, something you didn’t even know you possessed that had you kneeling down and opening your arms. Will’s forehead un-creased just slightly, and he rushed forward, wrapping his arms tight around your neck. 

“Hey, buddy. Everything’s okay now. I’ve got you.” You whispered, holding tightly to the little boy that was clinging onto you as if you were the last stable thing in the world. And you supposed you were; in his world at least. 

Will exhaled shakily. For the first time in two whole days, he felt just a tiny bit safe. He didn’t know you well, granted, but his Daddy had always told him that if there was an emergency, to make sure to call you. He’d taught Will how to click your contact and call. Will hadn’t been sure you’d come. You lived far away, and he barely ever saw you. The two of you were strangers practically. But Leo had always told Will that you’d come for him if he needed you. And Leo had never broken a promise to Will before… Well not until the other day, he’d waited in the office at school for a whole hour after the bell rang. When someone came for him, it wasn’t his Dad. It was a police officer with a mustache and a mean face, and all Will could do was cry, and make sure that the police officer knew he had to call you. And though the details Will had been given were few, he knew his Dad had been bad and he was in trouble. Big trouble. The police officer had sounded all angry and stern when he’d told Will this, softening only slightly when Will asked when he’d get to see his Dad again.

The police officer hadn’t answered, instead telling Will that he was being taken to the social services office, where he’d wait to figure out what the next steps were. 

Will had waited for you, and even though the nice lady had told him you were coming, it took a while. More than one day, but he couldn’t quite remember. It felt like forever. 

But now you were here, and you’d given him a hug that felt like the hugs his Dad gave him, and he didn’t feel like he had to try to be brave anymore. Your arms didn’t loosen around him even as you stood up, and Will let himself relax. Just for a moment. 

—

“We going to Spain?” Will wondered, gripping two of your fingers when you held out your hand towards him. He trotted along next to you as you headed from the social services building down the block to your hotel. 

“Yeah. Barcelona.” You affirmed. Luckily, Will had been able to talk to Leo on the phone, and Leo told him what the plan was. 

“Bar-sa-lonuh? Or Spain?” 

“Barcelona is a city in Spain.” You clarified. “We’ll go there on a plane tomorrow morning.” 

“Is it a big plane?” 

“It’s a pretty big plane. Have you ever been on a plane before?” 

Will shook his head, brown curls blowing backwards slightly in the wind.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll get snacks and… pick out a few movies to watch. And you can sleep if you want to.” 

“Snacks and movies?” Will repeated. 

“Yes! Does that sound fun?” You tried to sound excited even though there wasn’t really anything you were dreading more than the long flight with a five year old. 

Will just shrugged, his hand tightening around your fingers. You shifted the strap of his big duffel bag so it was further up on your shoulder, stopping just outside the hotel and bending down so you were eye level with him. 

“I know it’s a lot of change, Will. And I know you don’t know me very well but–” 

“My Daddy said you’re nice. And that you’ll take good care of me.” Will whispered, tearing up as he remembered the phone call he’d gotten to have with his father this morning. Leo had called you right after, himself trying to hold it together as he explained he told Will that you were coming for him. 

“I’m going to do my very best to take good care of you. We’re gonna figure it out together, alright?” 

Will nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his eye with his fist. “Alright.” 

You figured that was the best you’d get, for now. 

—

“Tia?” Will whispered. You turned, finding him all tucked into one of the double beds, the covers pulled up to his chin. He was so small, the dinosaur pajamas he’d pulled out of his duffel bag a bit too big on him. ‘Dad said I’d grow into them if I ate my vegetables’, Will had said. Your brother was many things, and a good father was one of them. He was giving you a huge responsibility and huge shoes to fill. 

Refocusing on Will and not how much he looked like your brother, you smiled, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What’s up, buddy?” You asked, hesitating for a moment before reaching and out brushing one of his curls away from his face. His whole body relaxed at the motion, and he looked a bit more confident as he opened his mouth to speak again. 

“Do we have to go to Spain? We… we can’t stay here?” 

Your heart twisted in your chest. You thought of your brother's words on the phone the past few days. He’d repeated it a few times, as if knowing the doubt you’d carry. 

You can’t leave Spain. You have a career and a life there. Will speaks a bit of Spanish, and he’ll adjust. He needs to be with you, and you need to be where you’re going to be happy. That will be the best thing for him.

Leo spoke with a wisdom in his voice that used to infuriate you, but you’d decided to trust the big brother voice, this time. Because he was Will’s dad, and he knew what Will needed. 

“We have to go to Spain.” You confirmed. Will frowned, an unhappy look on his face that tore at your emotions. “I know, it’s going to be an adjustment. But your Dad told me to take you there, and he always knows best, right?” 

Will looked conflicted. “I like it here.”

“I know, I know you do.” You paused, thinking once again back to your brother's advice. 

Talk to him like he’s a person, not a baby. He’s a smart kid, he’ll understand. 

“I play football in Spain. It’s my job there, so that’s where we have to be for now. But you’ll like it, I promise. It’s warm and sunny and it has really good food. Alexia is there, and I know you’ll love her, and she’s so excited to meet you in person.” 

Thankfully, Will had met Alexia over facetime before, and knew that you were together. You didn’t have to introduce the idea to him, as he’d somehow already seemed to know it wouldn’t just be the two of you when you arrived in Spain. 

Will looked doubtful, and you could see the anxiety clearly written across his face. His features were so like Leo’s, and it was the same face your brother always had when he was nervous about something. The same face you had when you were nervous about something. 

“Why don’t you ask me questions about Spain? And I’ll answer them, and then you’ll know more before we get there.” 

Will was a talker, that much you knew. And so the questions began, about the food in Spain, about school in Spain, about the team you played for, and whether there were dinosaur toys there. Question after question, until you laid down on the bed next to him, eyes barely open. 

“Do you live in a house in Spain?” Will asked, his energy still in full force as he asked what felt like the 500th question of the evening. 

“An apartment, but you’ll have your own room.” 

“And Alexia lives there?” 

You nodded groggily. 

“Does she speak Spanish?” 

“She does, but she also speaks English.” 

Will hummed. “My Dad was teaching me some Spanish for when we met Alexia. He said your tia taught you both Spanish and that's why I call you tia because that’s Spanish for aunt.” 

At this, you cracked a smile, forcing your eyes open as you nodded. “That’s true. We lived with our tia for a while and she taught us Spanish.” 

“Is it hard to learn? I’m not very good.” Will wondered, his questions seemingly endless. 

“Mmm, not hard. You’ll pick it up quickly, especially at school and with Alexia helping you with it.” 

“Is she nice?” 

“She’s very nice.” You promised, eyes flying open when you realized you had a text from Alexia you hadn’t yet read or responded to. Will yawned hugely as you pulled your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket, and you smiled down at him again. 

“Go to sleep, buddy. I can answer more questions tomorrow.” 

With a small grunt of agreement and another yawn, he rolled over. Right into you, his head resting against your arm. It was indescribable, the soft feeling that filled your heart. Soft adoration, even as you stilled the left side of your body completely so as not to disturb him. 

You didn’t know much about kids, but it seemed you knew enough. For now. 

Finally, you opened Alexia’s text, tears pooling in your eyes as you read her words. 

Amor! I hope everything is going well. You’re doing great already, I am sure of it. I stopped at the store and got a few things for Will. You said he likes dinosaurs, sí?I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait to hug you. 

God, you couldn’t wait to see her. It wasn’t very odd for the two of you to spend a night apart, but something about this felt different. You missed her deeply, fully, needed her to hold you and promise everything was going to be okay. The anxiety of how this whole new life would work was almost overshadowed by your excitement to see her again. 

Almost. 

—

Will was a pretty well behaved kid, you’d learned. Very sleepy when he woke up in the morning, but he snapped right out of it when you asked him what he wanted to download to watch on the plane. He very eagerly selected three disney movies, and you realized with a pang to your chest that all three were movies you and your brother had grown up on. 

All three were Leo’s favorites, if you remembered right. 

And now they were Will’s. 

Not being the biggest fan of crowds, the airport clearly made your nephew nervous. He fidgeted his little hands together, walking so close to you that he ran into you every time you stopped. His hand would dart out to grab onto the hem of your t-shirt whenever anyone got too close to him, and he almost cried when the security agent made him walk through the metal detector by himself. 

You figured this made sense, that after his whole world had been turned upside down, of course he’d attached himself onto the most stable thing he could find. That happened to be you. It was just… odd. Something you weren’t used to. The checklist you’d made on your phone helped, reminding you to ask Will if he had to go to the bathroom, if he was hungry or thirsty, if he had any more questions about the plane. It was more than terrifying, honestly, that you were suddenly fully responsible for this small boy. 

There was stress, of course. But there was also something so… incredibly different in the way Will pressed his face to the glass of the plane window, staring wide eyed as the plane took off. For every moment you worried you were messing up, even in the first 24 hours, there were 10 moments where Will rested his head against your shoulder or reached for your hand, or offered you one of his animal crackers with a smile that had you convinced that for your nephew, maybe you could do this. 

—

“I can walk, Tia.” Will mumbled, squirming slightly in your arms. 

You chuckled, rubbing his back softly. “It’s okay, buddy, it’s crowded and I know that makes you nervous.”  

You’d picked him up a moment ago, after noticing how terrified he looked at the massive crowds making their way through the airport. It was a struggle to wrangle both of your bags in one hand, while holding Will in the other, but you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. You took two steps towards the exit before you had to stop and readjust, wishing you had another pair of hands here to help. 

Alexia had texted that she was there, and though you’d assumed that meant she was outside in her car, your eyes met hers across the bustling baggage claim before you had to take another step. 

Your whole body practically sagged with relief, your bags falling to the ground where you stood as Alexia made her way over to you both, a concerned and sympathetic smile on her face. 

“Mi amor,” she greeted, softly kissing your temple and pulling you into as much of a hug as she could manage with Will still in your arms. 

“Hi.” You choked out, almost in tears at the sight of her. Here, in front of you, at the perfect time. With a smile on her face, already reaching for your bags. 

“Hi, Will.” She said gently. 

Will peaked out from where his face had become hidden in your neck, relaxing a bit when he saw the semi familiar face. 

“Hi.” He whispered back, turning his face back in towards you and shutting his eyes. 

“He’s tired.” You explained, but Alexia just waved you off, beginning to lead you from the airport to the parking garage. It was much easier now that you only had to worry about carrying Will, who was quickly becoming dead weight in your arms as he drifted off. 

“Of course he is, it has been a long few days. I bet you’re exhausted too. We can go home and go right to sleep, sí? We can worry about anything else tomorrow.” 

You nodded your agreement, not even wanting to contemplate the state of your to do list at the moment, though it was getting harder and harder to ignore. 

As you arrived at the car, you shouldn’t have been surprised by the car seat perfectly installed in the back of Alexia’s car. You’d mentioned needing one to her, but for some reason… you half expected her to forget. Or get the wrong one. You weren’t sure why, but it was just something that you thought you’d have to do. 

Yet when you opened the door to the back seat, it was all done for you. The perfect size for Will, buckled in correctly and everything. You carefully deposited him in the seat and buckled him in, before turning to Alexia, once again with tears in your eyes. 

“Thank you for getting that.” You mumbled, shutting the car door as quietly as you could. 

“Of course.” Alexia said easily, her lips curving into a smile as she opened her arms for you. You practically collapsed into them, gripping tight to your girlfriend as she did the same to you. 

“I missed you so much.” You cried. 

“I missed you too, mi amor. You have no idea.” Alexia whispered back, her hand threading through your hair as she just held you for a moment. Eventually she leaned down to press her lips to yours. You kissed her back, taking in the feel of her hands as they cupped your jaw, her fading blonde hair tickling the side of your face. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, she was still gazing at you so lovingly it made your heart burst. 

“Let’s get you both home.” She suggested, and you nodded your agreement, needing nothing more than to be home in that moment. 

—

The relief you felt when you finally stepped back into your apartment wasn’t complete relief. Because you were home, but everything was different. There was a whole other person that had to fit into your life now, and you didn’t even know where to begin carving out a space for him. There was figuring out a school that could accommodate a five year old that spoke very little Spanish. Then there was finding childcare for when training didn’t perfectly align with school, or when the team was traveling. Would you bring Will with for away games? 

The issues you needed to address were seemingly endless, but most urgently was that the extra bedroom was not fit for a child. It had a double bed, which would work for now, but didn’t leave much room for anything else. What did a kid even need in his bedroom? 

Toys, of course. 

Books. 

A desk? 

A dresser? Or would the closet be enough? 

God he would need more clothes. 

And food that he'd like to eat. 

And shampoo and conditioner for kids. Those were different from adult hair products, right? 

That was most urgent, you decided. Making your home a home for him. 

“We should go shopping tomorrow.” You murmured, shifting Will in your arms a bit as you headed for the guest bedroom. He’d fallen asleep in the car and it was night, so it made sense for him to keep sleeping. 

What time did kids his age go to bed? 7? 8? You had no idea. Another question to answer. 

With a gentle hand on your back guiding you down the hall, Alexia hummed in agreement, but you missed the small smile on her face. “I bought a few things.” She reminded you. 

Your assumption was that a few things were a pair of pajamas, a new toy. A book, maybe? But when Alexia stepped around you to push the bedroom door open, your jaw dropped. 

A few things, apparently, was an entirely redecorated room. A beautifully redecorated room. The walls were no longer white; instead they were painted a soft green. A wooden twin bed sat in the corner, a green canopy hanging the tall headboard and footboard. The bed was covered in a green comforter, a soft throw blanket, and 4 different pillows. A long shelf sat just under the large window, filled with toys and books. There was a separate toy box next to the bookshelf, overflowing with even more toys; cars and books and dolls and stuffed animals. Everything. Wall decor, a rug, a dresser, a cozy chair in the corner next to a lamp. 

Alexia had thought of everything. And if you’d had any doubts about her dedication to this, to you, to Will, you no longer did. Alexia had done what you’d been too preoccupied to think of and made Will a space that was entirely his own, a place he could feel safe and comforted. She’d made your home his home without a second thought. 

Without a word, you walked further into the room, choking back a sob as you laid a still sleeping Will down carefully on the bed. He shifted in his sleep, snuggling close to the soft pillows as you draped the throw blanket over him. 

When you finally turned back towards your girlfriend, she was hovering in the doorway, chewing on her bottom lip as she gazed at you worriedly. 

“Too much?” She whispered. 

You barely held back the scoff that would have been much too loud, crossing the room quickly and throwing your arms around her. 

“No. Perfect. You're perfect. Thank you.” You mumbled into her neck, pressing kiss after kiss to the skin you found there. Alexia tightened her hold, walking the two of you backwards and out the door so you didn’t wake Will. 

“Are you crying?” Alexia asked, her thumb tracing across your cheek bone as she leaned back from your embrace. 

You sniffled pathetically, leaning back in to press your forehead to Alexia’s chest and steady yourself. 

“I was just so overwhelmed and you did this and it’s perfect Ale. Thank you. Thank you.” 

Alexia pressed a kiss to the top of your head, squeezing you tightly. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I promised, no? I’m here. We are doing this together.” 

“I love you.” You cried, overwhelmed with love and wonder at what an incredible person your girlfriend was. You’d already known, but she always found a way to surprise you, doing something so absurdly kind and thoughtful that you were struck all over again with how good she was. 

“I love you too.” Alexia replied, swaying the two of you back and forth gently. 

There were still a lot of unknowns. A lot of problems to solve and things to figure out. But you’d never been more sure that you could do it. It wasn’t ideal, but you had Alexia and that was certainly ideal. 

—

JUST finished this so PLEASE tell me if you catch a typo also planning more parts to this but i'm VERY open to ideas if you have them :)