#and she wants me to grow with her but i hold her back

[buckyalpine]

I love Bucky loving his body. I love Bucky loved by the team. I love Bucky having his happy ending with a family. Imagine Bucky lounging around the sofa with his little baby girl tucked in his arm, her sweet face covered in frosting after smothering half of her cupcake onto her cheeks. The icing is bright red just like Tony's suit and it's his birthday party afterall, so everything is in full swing. Most of the cupcake is squished between her fingers, very little actually making it into her mouth but Bucky doesn't mind. He chuckles, watching her with heart eyes as she happily smears it onto his crisp white shirt, babbling and cooing, now sucking her thumb.

He is absolutely unbothered by this, all he sees is his happy little baby with her cheeky smile licking up all the frosting just like her mama. While Bucky couldn't care less about his shirt, a few others certainly did.

"Better get dunk that shirt into a bucket of tide pens Barnes" Clint snorted.

"Actually the quicker you get it off, the less likely it is to stain. Take it off now" Tony's voice went from fatherly advice to a seductive growl making Bucky's face twist in amusement, pink starting to color his cheeks.

"Yeah, give the little munchkin to y/n and take it off. Cause of the stain" Nat agreed, cocking an eyebrow. You giggled watching the scene unfold before you, your husband growing bashfully shy.

"Can't hurt punk" Steve shrugged and Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head until he realized his best friend had been nursing a rather large glass of Asgardian mead. Tipsy Steve was always a little bit of a pervert...

"I-

"For the stain"

"I think you just want me to take my shirt off" Bucky huffed while you grinned, giving his cheek a peck before taking your little princess in your arms.

"Can't blame them handsome, c'mon, show em' how lucky I am" you whisper and that sells it. Couldn't hurt and since they were all asking...

"Just take it off!" Nat howled with a wink, a bunch of whistles when Bucky sighed, indulging the team a little. He unbuttons his shirt and hands it off to a genuinely concerned Sam who would normally make sure the shirt got sent to the cleaners but this is too good so he throws it into a bucket of cold water and is back within seconds.

"Good God"

"Jesus"

"You look fuckin' good terminator"

"Alright, alright" Bucky holds his hands up, unable to stop the way his ears are bright red, shaking his head when you blow him a kiss making him blush more.

"Body shots!"

"What?"

"Yes"

Tony's eyes glimmer with excitement, and Bucky snorts, loving the way you egg him on, his daughter also squealing with excitement.

"Go on Sarge, y'know you look good"

He lies down on the bar table, surrounded by just the team, abs beautifully flexed as Nat pours a generous amount of some type of alcohol right on his belly button.

"When else will we get this lucky" She says with a playful smirk while Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Why are you cracking your knuckles, what the hell do you plan on-

"ME FIRST" He doesn't give anyone a chance, face planting himself into Bucky's tummy, his lips sealed, drinking every bit of the burning liquor with a satisfied hum.

"How much has he had to drink"

"Who cares, me next"

"I think you've licked enough of my husband"

"You get him all the time, don't be greedy"

"That cute little chubby ball of frosting and giggles is enough evidence you get him every which way, besides isn't there another one cooking, y'can't have any now git"

"Blink twice if you need help"

"Bro looks like an angel"

"Why aren't you blinking"

"Crafted by the heavens"

"You like this, don't you"

Bucky can't help but chuckle, surrounded by idiots. Drunk idiots. His wife. His baby girl. Another little one on the way. All who love him. Would protect him. Life was good.

[misswynters]

Brothel

Sevika x afab!reader / wc: ?

warnings: 18+, BITING (thanks to ep. 3), smut with no plot, dom! sevika, fingering, sub! reader

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3

let me know if you would like to be tagged in my writings

The dim, warm glow of the brothel's lanterns cast a haze over the room, filling the space with a sense of secrecy and allure. It was here, in a secluded corner draped with plush cushions, that you found yourself in Sevika's strong embrace. Her presence was magnetic, her intensity drawing you in with every touch, every stolen glance. This was unfamiliar territory for someone from Piltover, yet with Sevika, it just felt right.

She watched you with a smirk, her eyes dark and calculating, her gloved metal hand tracing a line down your arm with an almost possessive air. "You Piltover types don't usually end up here," she teased, her voice low and gravelly.

"What's the matter? Too good for this side of the bridge?" Your breath hitched as her lips found the curve of your neck, sharp and demanding, leaving a trail of warmth across your skin. You felt yourself leaning into her, yielding to the strength of her body pressed against yours. Sevika's hands roamed confidently, as if claiming every inch of your body with each touch.

Somehow, she knew just how to ignite every nerve, her fingers tracing lines that left you breathless. Her lips brushed against your neck, and you couldn't hold back the quiet moan that slipped from your lips. Her hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. "That's it," she murmured, her voice a rough whisper. "I knew you'd like it."

As her mouth moved lower, she grinned against your skin, savoring every reaction. The pleasure was intense, building like a fire within you, and when her teeth grazed your collarbone, you couldn't help but let your own teeth sink into her shoulder in response, a desperate attempt to steady yourself against the overwhelming sensation. Sevika's body tensed slightly, and instead of pulling away, she let out a low, satisfied growl.

"Not as innocent as you look, are you?" she murmured, clearly enjoying the way you clung to her, marking her with your bite. She shifted slightly, pulling you even closer. "You're just full of surprises," she chuckled, her hand sliding up to cup your face, guiding you to look into her eyes. The intensity in her gaze was undeniable, dark and filled with a hunger that sent a thrill through you.

"Go on," she urged, her voice low and filled with anticipation. "If that's what you need... don't hold back."

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words died as her mouth brushed along your jaw, trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The sensation was intense, each touch unraveling your carefully constructed composure. Her gloved metal hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, grounding you against her as she pressed her lips to the hollow of your throat, lingering long enough to make you shiver.

A low chuckle escaped her as she felt you tremble. "There it is... just let go. Don't fight it." Her voice was a rumbling whisper against your skin, full of knowing confidence. She bit gently at your collarbone, and a strangled gasp escaped you. Without thinking, you clutched her shoulders, sinking your teeth yet again, into her as a means of grounding yourself. Desperately trying to find anything to hold onto in the face of the overwhelming pleasure she’s giving you.

To your surprise, Sevika let out a low, appreciative growl, her eyes flashing with a thrill you hadn't expected. "Now that's more like it," she purred, her smirk growing as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her gaze was predatory, dark with a mixture of approval and challenge. "Not so prim after all, are you?"

You felt heat rise to your face, but she didn't give you a chance to reply, her hand sliding down your back, pressing you closer against her. "Good. I want you to feel every second of this," she whispered, her voice low and intense.

"So don't hold back on me. Let me hear you."

Her hand slid down to your thigh, guiding it up over her hip with a firm yet gentle touch. She held you steady, her eyes never leaving yours as her fingers traced firm, reassuring circles against your skin. "I'm right here," she murmured. "Just relax... let me take care of you." Her voice was a steady anchor, pulling you deeper into the moment, every word laced with that commanding edge that made your pulse race.

The sensations were intense, overwhelming, and every time you felt yourself losing control, her hand would tighten, guiding you back, her voice a steady whisper against your ear. "That's it... just like that," she murmured, encouraging you with a gentleness that was almost surprising. "Don't be afraid to take what you want."

Sevika's gaze held a gleam of dark intent as her metal fingers traced over your hips, the coolness of the metal sending a shiver up your spine. Her smirk deepened as she watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the way you arched instinctively under her touch.

She was meticulous, taking her time, each movement deliberate as she let her hand linger, mapping out every inch of your skin with the smooth, unyielding surface.

"Relax," she murmured, her voice low and commanding as she slid her hand lower, the metal a striking contrast against the warmth of your skin. "You wanted something different, didn't you?" Her lips were close to your ear, her breath hot as her fingers pressed just a little harder, testing the limits of your comfort. She worked in slow, steady circles against your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race.

Her other hand remained warm and grounding on your thigh, keeping you still as she let her metal fingers explore, her touch both soothing and electrifying. Each motion sent sparks through you, the contrast between warmth and coolness, softness and hardness, blending into a sensation that had you on edge. You tried to stifle a gasp, but Sevika noticed, her smirk deepening.

"Oh, don't hold back now," she drawled, her voice laced with a teasing edge. "I want to hear you."

Sevika's touch was almost too much, the metal fingers moving inside you reaching deeper, each steady motion making you shudder. She watched every reaction, her gaze sharp, her focus never wavering. You felt yourself losing control, every movement of her fingers inside you driving you closer to the edge. Each slow, deliberate touch made you tremble, your breath hitching as you tried to stifle the sounds escaping you.

"Sevika... I.." you gasped, struggling to find words as the intensity built. Her fingers moved with calculated precision, unrelenting, and as you continued to reach your climax, you instinctively tried to pull back. But Sevika's hand tightened on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, her gaze narrowing as she watched you squirm beneath her.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," she murmured, a smug grin on her lips as she took in the effect she had on you. "I told you, I want you to feel every second of this."

Sevika's fingers worked expertly, her movements rhythmic and deliberate, each motion coaxing out more of the heat building inside you. The room was filled with the unmistakable, wet sounds of her fingers moving inside your folds. The wetness coated her metal fingers, glistening in the dim light as they slid in and out with ease. The noises growing louder with every movement, that it surely can be heard from outside the room. Luckily everyone knew better than to interrupt when sevika has business with you.

She noticed, a grin spreading across her lips as she looked down, clearly proud of the effect she had on you. "You hear that?" she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. "That's all you, making such a mess for me." You whimpered, your face flushed as you tried to turn away, but she guided your chin back with her free hand, forcing you to meet her intense gaze.

"Don't hide from me. I want to see every reaction," she ordered, her voice both commanding and gentle. Her fingers continued their steady rhythm, now slick with your arousal, each movement creating an unmistakable wet, squelching sound that filled the small room. The sensations were almost too much, and as her fingers pressed against your clit, you instinctively tried to pull back, feeling the heat of pleasure growing almost too intense. But Sevika's other hand pressed firmly on your upper thigh, keeping you anchored to her, her grip strong and unyielding. "Don't even think about it," she growled softly, amusement coloring her tone.

"You're going to stay right here and take it." Her gaze flicked down to where her long slender fingers were inside. Her smirk only grew as she watched the way her hand gleamed, coated in your arousal.

"So damn wet... all for me," she muttered, almost to herself, as if fascinated. As the pleasure intensified, you couldn't hold back the noises slipping from your lips, and Sevika noticed, lifting her hand toward your mouth. "Bite down if you have to," she commanded gently, her voice low and almost possessive. You hesitated but felt another wave of sensation, so you did as she instructed, biting down gently on her rough palm, your muffled moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds her fingers created. You were so lost in the pleasure of her fingers that you count control yourself, slobbering over her hand. And she liked it.

"Good girl," Sevika murmured, her words filled with approval as she felt you tense and writhe beneath her. The pace of her fingers quickened, each movement slick and unrelenting, the wetness intensifying as she continued, her fingers gliding in and out effortlessly. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered, "Let go for me. Don't hold back."

The pressure built to a breaking point, her fingers working in relentless rhythm, the wet sounds a constant reminder of just how thoroughly she had unraveled you. When the release finally overtook you, it hit like a wave, and Sevika didn't stop, her fingers coaxing out every last shudder, her smirk widening as she felt the intensity of your reaction.

"There it is," she murmured, her tone filled with satisfaction as her fingers slowed, wet and glistening from the pleasure she had pulled from you. She leaned close, brushing a gentle kiss to your cheek as you caught your breath, her eyes filled with pride. "You did good."

taglist: @untitled-locket @cestlaprincesa @ohboi @themostlesbianever

banners: @cafekitsune

[entitled-fangirl]

All the time we wish for.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT just smut dude

Summary: Cregan is eager to show his wife the Northern hot springs.

A/n: Based on an ask from forever ago- I think from @princessvelaryon before we became friends but I can't remember 😭😭 queen if it was you, you're a real one

Masterlist

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"Cregan, where are w-"

"-Just trust me, sweet girl. Trust me."

She eyes him, not able to stay angry at the happiness that radiates from him. "I do…" she trailed off.

"Almost there. Should be right…" his head turned back and forth in search of something. "Ah." He pulled her in the direction his eyes were set on. 

He pulls her into a cave, immediately moving to take off her cloak. She pulls away in concern at first- taking off a cloak in the dead of winter here feels like a death sentence. But his head tilted just slightly and he moved forward to do it again, to which she let him. 

The fur dropped onto the ground of the cave. She looked over her shoulder at it. 

At the sight of her neck exposed, Cregan leaned to her and nipped at the skin. 

She jumped, a breath escaping her. "Cregan, my cloak-"

"The cold won't seep into your bones here," he muttered against her neck. 

"What?"

"You're not cold, are you?" He asked.

She looked down to the goosebumps on her arms, but she knew it wasn't from the cold. 

He lips pulled into a small smile. "My father showed me my first hot spring when I was a boy of six. Warmed us when snow fell a moon before it was supposed to. I've been hunting these spots out for years now. But this one is by far my favorite."

She took in the sight, walking further into the cave. Exactly as he said, the further she moved in, the less the cold could bother her. She looked back to him, to which he waved out, encouraging her to explore it more. 

A light waterfall poured into a small pool of water, steam waving around it. 

He moved behind her, now without his own cloak. His fingers brushed against her arm. "Do you want to try it?"

"You can… get in?"

"You can. If you want."

"I do," she breathed as she stared out at the water.

Cregan's fingers moved to her dress, pulling at the laces. His scarred and calloused fingers became gentle with her, as if handling thin glass. The laces were pulled with a gentleness she didn't even feel, but she knew from the way his arms moved from her peripheral vision and the loosening of her dress. 

Eventually, she had to hold the dress up as he finished. It would have been hard to tell when he was finished if not for the sudden kisses he began to place on her shoulder. The rough pads of his fingers pushed away the material. 

She let go, letting it fall to the ground. Cregan took on the next challenge of her thin layers of underskirt, but he was quick to pull the ribbons apart. Piece by piece, her clothing fell onto the dirt covered floor of the cave, but neither really cared.

She was growing impatient, and by the time Cregan had untied the last bit of her skirt, she was all but tearing at her shift. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, the adrenaline doing nothing to help her coordination. He pushed her up against his chest, reaching his arms around to help her. 

She watched his large fingers unbutton each one at a pace too slow for her. "Cregan-"

"-We have all the time we wish for," He murmured.

She forced herself to take a small breath, though it was shaky. 

Cregan's hand ran down her stomach once he finished, admiring the woman against him. 

She whined lightly and leaned her head back against his shoulder, to which she earned a chuckle from him. His hand moved down her shift, grabbing the fabric and beginning to pull it up at an agonizingly slow pace. 

She felt the air move up her legs as the shift came up until it paused at her upper thigh. "Don't stop now."

"Should I?" He asked as his nose pressed to the side of her head, his voice in her ear. "I do love to watch you beg, my love."

"You either continue the Stark line with me in this hot spring-"

"Or what?" He asked with a smirk, pulling away from her and turning her to face him. Her shift fell back down.

Her confidence faltered for a second, then turned to teasing. "Or the line ends with you."

A low growl sounded from his throat. His eyes raked over her slowly as a new light came to his eyes. "Take it off."

She did so, dropping it quickly as Cregan focused on the strings of his doublet. 

As soon as she was bare, she moved to help Cregan but he held a hand out as his eyes took her in. He spoke, but his voice trailed off a bit as if distracted by the sight. "I've… I've got it."

She tilted her head in amusement and ran a hand down his chest, accepting his decision. She moved down to the spring, sitting at the edge, and dipped her leg in. She let out an instinctive groan at the feeling.

Cregan's lips parted as he watched her. He truly did mean to undress himself, but he was distracted. 

"Cregan," she chided at him lightly. 

He gave a heavy blink and snapped out of his daze, "Sorry, I-"

She gave him a knowing look. 

He made quick work of pulling off his doublet, yanking at the strings of the next layer until he stood in only his trousers and boots. 

He stepped down to her side, standing behind her with a hesitation.

She peered up at him from under her lashes. 

He felt the tent in his pants at the sight, one he was more familiar with than he cared to admit. It reminded him of all the nights he had returned to their chambers in a rage from planning for this war. She had always sat on that sofa with a knowing smile, asking if he was stressed. 

She had a way of taking away his stress before he even remembered how it got there. 

"Changing your mind now?" She asked him softly.

He shook his head, sitting down next to her and beginning to unlace his boots. "I'd like to believe I'm a man that follows through."

She kicked at the water lightly. "Follow through then."

Cregan's breath hitched as he looked to her. "I will."

He pulled his boots off, throwing them aside and pulling at his pants. He quickly got into the small pool, letting out a sinful groan as the warmth enveloped him. 

She watched the man with pure adoration in her eyes. The way his broad shoulders flexed as he lowered himself made her brush her thighs together. 

He turned in the water, now facing her with a broad smile. He pulled himself to her and kissed her leg lightly. He nuzzled at her knee, silently asking her to spread her legs. She hesitated, knowing his smile would only turn cocky if she did so. 

He brought a hand up, the water dripping down his wrist. His fingers brushed up her calf to her knee, pushing that leg to the side. His eyes moved slowly to her core, his eyes lighting up. 

She felt her entire body heat up as her husband admired her. Though she wanted to close her legs, she'd never felt safer. 

He kissed her leg lightly, holding her leg out to give him room. He began to kiss up her leg. 

She reached out quickly behind his head to pull his hair up before it dipped in the water. He grinned up at her and continued his movements. 

She watched in agony as his lips moved closer and closer to the very place she wanted them. When his lips ghosted over her clit, his breath brushing over it became antagonizing. She tugged at his hair in instinct, earning a playful glare of lust from the man. His light eyes had a dark intent behind them, a sin neither of them were ashamed of. 

Cregan laid a soft kiss to her slit, purposefully bumping his nose against her bundle of nerves. A small squeak sounded from her, spurring something deep inside of him. 

He stood in the pool, grabbing her hips firmly and lowering her into the water against him. She held his shoulders, relaxing in the warm water. 

He shifted her lightly, now completely wrapping his arm around her so their bodies were as close as possible, his face tucking into her neck and kissing at the skin. 

Her head fell back, her mouth opening in bliss. As she had done earlier with him, Cregan grabbed her hair, clumping it in one large hand while pulling at the roots as well. It was a mission to him to keep her hair dry, for if it didn't, she'd surely freeze once out of the cave. 

"Cregan, please."

The hand around her waist fell, moving down between her thighs. He rubbed at her slit through the water, slipping a finger in. 

She gasped. 

…

It's an unspoken fact that most Starks were created in the Northern hot springs, and there's no doubt that one was created that cold day. 

Cregan had never been more thankful for the sudden snow.

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Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hair

Irene Paredes x Child!Reader

Summary: You help your Mami when she gets a red

You’ve travelled with Mami for once.

Mama is at home with your little brother Matteo but you’re not really worried.

You’re a good traveller. Mami says so because you were born when she used to play in France so you’re used to going back and forth between countries. You know how to amuse yourself by playing or doing your homework or your reading.

Mami says you’re very responsible.

Since coming home to Spain and to Barcelona, you’ve not travelled as much. You’ve stayed with Mama at home even though travelling and going on planes is much more interesting.

You don’t know why Mami decided you could come with her this time but you have and you’re happy.

Or you were happy until Mami got her red card.

You’re not quite sure what happened apart from the fact that her leg was too high.

You know all about high legs.

At Taekwondo, your teacher explains all about how head shots are very dangerous because the head is a very important part of your body and that’s why people wear caps to protect them during sparring.

You’re still kind of small (but growing all the time!) so you’re not allowed to do any head shots of your own. But you know they’re dangerous and you know Mami is not going to argue her card even if someone else will.

“Mami?”

“Go back to the bench, squirt,” Irene says as she breezes past you to the locker rooms.

When you were younger, that used to work but you’re nearly eight now and Mama says you’re moving under your own power so you think that means that Mami’s orders don’t work on your anymore.

“No!” You say stamping your foot right in the tunnel.

Irene scrubs a hand over her face as she turns around to face you. “I don’t have the patience to deal with a tantrum right now, squirt. Go back to the bench and finish watching.”

You stamp your foot again. “I’m not having a tantrum, you’re having a tantrum!”

Irene sighs. “If you come with me now, you’re not allowed back out. We stay in the locker room. But you can keep watching the match if you head back outside.”

Your foot goes again. “With you.”

You’d inherited her stubbornness, Irene notes. Her hair. Her eyes. The tight set of her jaw. And her stubbornness.

Irene holds her hand out for you. You take it.

You’re a different beast to your brother.

Matteo is still small, still practically a baby. She and Lucia had been worried about the age gap between you both. At nearly eight, you towered over him with your toys and your rambunctious nature.

You were not unlike Lucy and Keira’s (and increasingly Ona's) Pup but maybe a bit lower energy now that you’re gotten older. More disciplined is what Lucia would say, now that you’ve had your energy redirected into Taekwondo. Disciplined and strangely emotionally intelligent.

Irene supposes she should pat herself on the back with that. She’d never agreed with hitting kids even if it’s a little scuff on the back of the head to redirect them. No whacks, no spanks, no hits.

She talked your through your emotions and now that you were older, you were able to talk her through them too.

You hold her hand now as she walks back to the locker room.

“Mami, are we showering?”

“Aren’t you a bit too old to shower with me, squirt?” She teases, grabbing her toiletries and a towel. “You’re nearly eight now.”

You puff out your chest at the reminder. “I’m not going in with you! Just wanted to know.”

“I’m going to shower. You can take a shower if you want but you have to come into mine if you’re going to be washing your hair.”

You tug at the end of your braid.

Lucia likes your hair long and Irene has to admit that she does too.

You’d come out with a full head of hair, screaming and crying your arrival to the world as Irene panted from all the energy she’d spent pushing you out. Screaming, crying, with thick hair as you were gently rest on her chest.

Your hair had remained just as thick as then, growing quickly to the point that regular trips to get it cut were needed.

But washing it was always a challenge. Lots of shampoo. Lots of conditioner. Lots of time spent in the tub trying to get it all washed.

It’s part of the reason why it’s done in the morning too. You hate the hairdryer but you hate sleeping with wet hair even more so washing it is always done in the morning so it can air dry before bed.

“Wash my hair?” You ask and Irene nods.

“You’ll have to shower with me then if we’re washing your hair. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Uh-huh.”

“Alright, squirt. Let’s go.”

Irene’s original plan was to drown herself in the shower, to stay there until the match was over and she could finally face her teammates again. The red card was justified, she knows that but it doesn’t mean there isn’t still a bit of a sting.

She was happy to leave you on the bench, safe with the others so Irene could wash away her anger and resentment while you were occupied.

But now you’re here with her, asking to have your hair washed and looking up at her like you just know she needs something like this to keep occupied.

It’s an easy routine to get through, to lather her hands with shampoo and massage it into your scalp. To wash it all out before moving onto the conditioner.

Two rounds of conditioner and you look up at her with a smile.

“I can wash your hair now, Mami?” You ask and Irene laughs, pushing away the wet strands from your face.

“I think you’re a little small to be doing that, squirt.”

You puff out your cheeks. “Are you sure? I’ve definitely grown since Mama last measured me!” To demonstrate, you stretch up to your tiptoes and reach as high as you can.

“Maybe when you’re taller,” Irene says placidly,” Come on. Grab your towel and we’ll get out.”

Irene’s just gotten yours and her own clothes on by the time that everyone else has arrived.

“Whoa,” Jenni says as she comes in,” You’re dripping everywhere, squirt!”

Irene sighs as she turns around. “You should have seen just how wet it was earlier. Absolutely everywhere.”

“We can tell,” Codi snickers,” There’s a river to the showers.”

“I’ve braided it back again,” Irene offers up weakly as she watches Alexia crouch in front of you.

“You know you’ll have to sleep with that wet hair,” Alexia reminds you.

You giggle. “No, I won’t. We call Mama and Matteo tonight. Mama will see my hair. She won’t let Mami put me to bed with wet hair. She says it’s naughty.”

“Devious,” Alexia says approvingly.

You high five her and look back at Irene, who shakes her head fondly at you.

“We’ll be having words about your eversion to the hairdryer.” She wiggles her finger teasingly at you and you grin.

You stick your tongue out. “You have to talk to Mama first.”

[seneon]

INTERTWINED GAZES ──── katsuki bakugo

about. in which, everybody's watching her, but she only has eyes for him. romantic fluff. wc of 700+

notes. inspired by "this is what you came for" by calvin & rihanna. okay maybe katsuki is interesting to write too... forrr @seumyo aka katsuki's girl and @angeliicheartt my pooki

you took a trip down to a memory lane ingrained and portrayed with the best moments in your life back in UA. it all started with the very first step you took into hero class 1A, and it all travels to your final year in 3A.

it has been a journey. to grow in your quirk and to grow in your friendship with your classmates. for whatever reason, your love for katsuki seems to grow as it has with the other aspects that bring your whole life up.

now you're standing amongst all the other future heroes who danced and reveled in the pool of their sweet graduation. the bass of the party song finds a funny comfort at the back of your ears as the colourful lights run around in every direction, painting your skin whatever hue the light shines.

the emcee announces for a time where the next song will be the momentary dopamine boost for the students, a dance with a partner. by now, most of the students have their own partner. you can tell, they've grown on each other. they've fallen in love. they've locked their fates together.

not that you aren't a fan of romance, but the eyes of every other student that darts to you right after the implication of a partner dance has your eyes locked onto one boy, and only him.

every soul is watching you, but you're looking at katsuki. dear sweet katsuki who stands at one corner with a fruit punch in one hand, and his other hand stuffed into his pockets. he takes a sip of his drink before his scarlet eyes shoot to your direction and he freezes.

katsuki freezes because the girl he's always admiring from afar is looking at him. she's on the dance floor with so many other boys, but her sights are set on katsuki.

your heart starts to speed up as your hands are gently pushed against your chest to stop the rapid beating. even under the blaring colourful lights and the music that is almost ending, you looked like the ultimate beauty to katsuki. even though your eyes are taken off from him, his gaze is still fixed onto yours.

“dance with her,” midoriya breaks katsuki out of his trance and glances at his friend who shot him a smile. “you’ll never have this chance again, kacchan.”

midoriya’s words seemed to puncture some sort of idea in his mind. katsuki walks towards you, pushing his way through the crowd while setting his drinks aside so he could tap on your shoulders to get your attention.

when you looked at him, he lost all his confidence. it's all because in this moment, he feels so vulnerable under your gaze. your eyes that hold some kind of beauty in them and they see through all the imperfections of katsuki.

and though there are many people special to him, you are the only soul who can touch his cool heart with your warm smile that surfaces.

“i want to dance with you,” the blond blurts out with a murmur, the colour of roses painting his cheeks and you couldn't help but feel your blush own deepening. “i’ll dance with you, katsuki.”

everything was so sweet. the way his hands held yours so gently, a monstrous contrast to how aggressive he usually is. his touch is so warm and it has you falling in love all over again with this boy. you had your first dance with the first boy you liked.

and when you look back at it, you've always wondered why it took three years for you to confess your love to katsuki. you still wonder until now, years after the graduation party where you're now a pro hero, just a few ranks under katsuki.

“are you looking at our graduation picture again?” the voice of your husband asks as you pull your gaze off from the photo album and nod at katsuki who takes off his costume gears.

“it was on this date where you asked me to dance with you, and we ended up confessing to each other,” you said as he walked over to you sitting on the couch and gave your cheek a peck.

“of course. i still remember."

katsuki will never forget about it. because if a genie grants him a wish, it will be for him to ask you to dance with him over and over again.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[roordismo]

winners love winning - alexia putellas

Warnings: suggestive smut MDNI 18+

Wordcount: ~1.1k

__________________________________________

You had been a barca fan as long as you could remember, being mesmerised by the likes of Iniesta and Xavi quickly turned into being a big fan of Vicky Losada and Mariona Caldentey. So when they came knocking on your door, it was an offer you simply couldn't refuse. You settled in easily, barcelona had always been your number one holiday destination and you were quickly growing fond of the team. However you liked your captain a little more than you probably should. The two of you met during an international game, swapping shirts after you lost the game, it made the loss a little easier to take. And now, she was shining for barca, playing like she always used to. She had a certain charm and you’d be flat-out lying if you said you weren’t attracted to her.

"We're going out tonight at Razzmatazz right?" You asked, as you were trying on another top. You were at Claudia's apartment with Patri and Cata, getting yourselfs ready before meeting the rest at the club. "Yes we are and your girlfriend ale, is also tagging along this time, please try to not to stare as much this time" Patri said, rolling your eyes at her comment. She teased you endlessly ever since she found about your thing for the captain. You were trying to show her a meme you saved in your tiktok favourites, but instead an edit of alexia popped up on your screen. "She's not my girlfriend, asshole" you responded whilst taking another shot. Pre-drinks at Claudia's were the usual every time you went out, it was their, and now also your way of getting ready. "We all know you wish she was" Cata mumbled, leaving you speechless looking redder than a tomato. They were planning on getting wasted and so were you, the already few days of vacation were gonna be spent on having the best time possible. First you were going out, then spending the remaining days on a group holiday, somewhere away from the public eye, preferably in Spain, before all leaving for the international break.

A few drinks in, they decided it was better to walk, the club wasn't that far away after all and some fresh air wouldn't hurt. "Mira, no more okay? Sé que todas son bromas, pero no quiero arruinar la amistad" you said in a half-whisper, holding the door open for the rest to come in. (Look, i know it's all jokes, but i don't want to ruin the friendship) You had been working on your Spanish, not feeling entirely comfortable, but it being good enough to hold proper conversations with your teammates. Unsurprisingly, Alexia was the first one you greeted "Ale! You finally stopped being boring for once!" Earning you a laugh from your captain, if only she knew how much you loved it. She was wearing quite a simple outfit, a top with a blazer and a pair of jeans, yet she still looked otherworldly. Resting your gaze onto her as she spoke to Ingrid and Mapi, your phone pinged:

- Patri: just kiss her already jesus

- me: callate, hdp (shut up, asshole)

You went back to your conversation with your captain, who was also having a conversation about the ballon d'or. It took less than a minute before your phone pinged again:

- Cata: stop eyefucking her pleaseeeee

This time you chose to ignore it, instead you sat down next to Esmee and Kika, who were talking about their holiday plans.

- you were added to "15 × 11"

You sighed, alexias and your numbers in the squad, this was in fact gonna go on the whole night.

- Clau: we've got an offer for you

- if you get with her before we leave, we'll pay for your drinks

- Cata: and if you go home with her to play cards ;) we'll also pay for your share of the group holidays

- me: i'll do it. But to make it clear, it's cause i want her, not the money.

I went up to talk to them, before shooting my shot. "I hate you guys", you said. "No you don't." Claudia responded as you walked away. You needed a drink first before you were shooting your shot. "2 shots porfa" planning on giving one to the Catalan woman. As you were giving her the glass you said "Ale, quieres bailar? Cata said you were being boring and "mature" as always, wanna prove her wrong?" This was your one chance and you weren't gonna waste a second. The music was getting louder and you weren't leaving much room for Jesus. "Que guapa eres..." (you're so hot) she breathed out, her hand tracing along your arm. "What did you say?" You asked, playing innocent even though you heard her loud and clear. "Nada, amor, nada." (Nothing, love, nothing) She turned you around, working your back into her, when you felt your phone buzzing again.

- Patri: perrear??? Se te ve la cabeza??? (grinding??? Have you lost your mind???)

“Jesus, you’re insane” you heard her mutter from behind you. It was just a matter of time before she’d give in. She pulled you away from the people into a bathroom stall, locking lips before the door even closed, her hands all over you. You kissed her back fiercely, yet letting her take control. As she kept you pinned to the thin bathroom wall, her hands started wandering. However you were snapped back to reality when you heard your phone ring.

- 15x11 is calling (videocall)

Groaning as you looked at your screen, you picked up. “What do you guys want this time?” you asked, clearly annoyed your moment got interrupted and trying to show as little of the Catalan woman next to you as possible. “We thought we lost you”, it was obvious they had seen you leave with Alexia, “but given you left with a certain someone, we think you’re all good”, they laughed, earning the finger. “amor, we’ve got some unfinished business, don’t you think?” she smiled against your lips, her hand moving along your spine. “we really do,” you replied, pressing your lips to hers once more. “My apartment it is”, as she moved away to get out of the bathroom. “We’re leaving guys!” You screamt, looking to see if your friends could hear you, as alexia was saying her goodbyes to the others.

- me: i got the girl, winners love winning

You texted, smiling whilst entering your captain's apartment. Both eager to get back to what you started.

a/n: this is my first time doing this, lmk if you got advice or anything

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

hiiii can you do an Hyunchan x reader where the boys are really mad at her an ignorining her and she has a panic attack.

ℙ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖

Warning: Angst/fluff

Summary: Request!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Chan?" she called out softly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the quiet room as she stood by the living room door. The tension in the air was thick, heavy. It had been 12 hours since the argument, and neither Chan nor Hyunjin had said a word to her. The silence was suffocating, making her feel like she was going to lose it.

"Hyunjin?" She tried again, this time addressing the other side of the room, but once more, there was no response. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Are you guys going to ignore me forever?" she muttered, barely more than a whisper. Still, neither of them budged, their backs turned, their attention focused elsewhere.

Her chest tightened, and the pressure behind her eyes threatened to spill over. "Please? I’m sorry… I just—please don’t ignore me," she begged, taking a few tentative steps forward, but the distance between them felt as if it were growing wider. She could feel the weight of their silence pressing down on her.

Hyunjin laid his head on Chan's shoulder, his body language as cold as his silence. They refused to look at her. The tears she had been holding back began to burn, stinging her eyes, threatening to fall as she silently begged them to forgive her for the words exchanged earlier.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she turned away, feeling the overwhelming weight of her emotions. Defeated, she slowly made her way to the kitchen. She could feel the air thick with tension, her body moving on autopilot as she began to prepare dinner. They had already eaten lunch without her earlier, and now, after just returning from practice, she was left to make dinner alone, as though everything was fine.

The tears blurred her vision, and her head spun with confusion and sorrow. It was as if the world was closing in on her, the weight of it all pressing harder with every passing second. She could hear her own thoughts, each one darker than the last, and she hated how powerless she felt to push them away.

Once the food was done and plated, she brought it to the table in silence. Her hands shook slightly as she set the plates down, then quietly made her way back to the living room.

"I made you guys some dinner, if you want it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I put it on the table. I'll go eat in the room, so don't worry about me." She didn't wait for a response, knowing it was unlikely she’d get one.

Once in their room, she sat at her vanity, the food on her plate growing cold as she picked at it slowly, each bite feeling like it was stuck in her throat. The tears started to fall, silently at first, as she stared blankly ahead, lost in her own thoughts.

Would they break up with her? The thought kept running through her mind, a constant whisper of doubt that she couldn’t shake.

She hadn’t even noticed her breathing quicken, the pressure in her chest building, until it was almost too much to bear. Her chest tightened painfully, and her hands trembled as she clutched her chest. The feeling of rejection weighed heavily on her, and she felt the panic beginning to spiral.

"Please... enough," she whispered to herself, trying desperately to compose herself, but the sobs started to escape anyway. Her head throbbed, her heart raced, and the room felt like it was spinning. She felt utterly alone.

Then, the door opened.

Her heart skipped a beat, and through the mirror, she saw Chan and Hyunjin standing in the doorway. They had finished dinner.

She quickly wiped her eyes, but the damage was done. Her tears streaked down her cheeks as she bowed her head in embarrassment. Her breathing was still erratic, but she refused to let them see her like this, not wanting them to see how fragile she truly felt.

"Y/nnie? Baby?" Chan’s voice was hoarse, filled with concern, as he hurried to her side. Hyunjin was right behind him.

Chan knelt beside her, trying to catch her gaze, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She turned away, too embarrassed, her face flushed with shame.

"Hey… look at me," he urged gently, his hand reaching to cup her cheek, his touch warm and soft.

Her breathing quickened again, and she pulled away from his touch. "Please, I’m sorry..." she whispered, her voice shaking with each breath. "Please dont break up with me, i can change."

Hyunjin's frown deepened as he knelt beside her on the other side. "Y/nnie… you’re panicking," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "I’m so sorry I made you feel like this."

He truly had no idea it had gone this far. He never wanted her to feel like this, never wanted to push her to the point where she felt like she might lose them.

"You… you don’t have to be with me. I’ve accepted it," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Chan’s heart sank, and he pulled her gently off the chair, guiding her to the bed. He held her close, his hands reassuring as he wrapped her in his arms, trying to calm her.

"I’ll go make her some tea," Hyunjin whispered, but Chan didn’t let go, his focus entirely on her. He nodded, thankful for Hyunjin’s understanding.

"Hey… shhh," Chan whispered, his voice soft, soothing. "It’s okay. No one is going to leave you. We were just being assholes, and we should’ve talked things out with you, Y/nnie. I’m sorry." He kissed the top of her head, his words gentle but full of remorse.

But she wasn’t sure she believed him. If she weren’t in this state, would they still be mad at her?

"But you can’t just do that to me," she cried into his chest, her voice cracking. "It hurts, Chan. It hurts so much. I would never do that to you guys."

Chan’s grip tightened around her, his voice filled with regret. "You’re right, Y/n. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. We were just so angry, and now we’re learning from our mistakes. I never want to put you through this again, baby." He gently tilted her chin, urging her to meet his eyes. "Hey… look at me."

She slowly lifted her gaze to his, and his heart melted as he saw the pain still clouding her eyes.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered, his voice soft with affection and regret. "I’m so sorry. You can put me on any punishment duty you want."

"Anything?" she asked, her voice tinged with mischief, a small glimmer of her old spark returning in her eyes.

"Anything," Chan gulped, knowing that he and Hyunjin were about to go on a rollercoaster ride of their own making. But he would do whatever it took to make things right, for her.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon!

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[mossygirl333]

AN: Lowkey kinda can't get this out of my head, so we're just gonna write this, my daydreams have gotten out of hand and have spiraled. I present you this (Lowkey kinda sucks tho)

Wolverine x virgin!f!reader

TW/CW: wolverine refers to reader as kid but they ARE NOT A MINOR!! semi-public sex, male masturbation, handjobs, virgin/innocent reader, slightly dry humping/female masturbation

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

A dull ache settled in the front of his head, lips gently pressed against the cool glass of a beer bottle. It was a shitty remedy for a shitty situation, eyes fluttering closed as he gulps down another mouthful of the bitter liquid.

His ears pick up the faint pattering of bare feet against linoleum, looking up to see her. She was a sweet thing, he knew that. Pretty too. But he liked to ignore that part about her, as hard as it was.

"What d'ya want kid?" He glances over at her, bringing the beer bottle to his lips again. She stood there shyly, staring down at her feet as she swallows.

"Can't sleep." She takes a tentative step forward, breaching into the den. Thighs clenched together as her eyes roved over his exposed biceps, tanned and glistening in the low lamp light. Johnny Cash played his melody on the radio, melting away into background noise as he glanced down. Filthy little thing, wasn't she?

"Well sit down." He tilted his beer bottle to the free spot on the couch. Taking the invitation she scurried over, plopping down next to him. Closer than what she needed to, the smell of her perfume wafting into his nose.

He suppressed a growl from his throat, blinking away his headache and setting down his drink. He sat back up, settling his warm calloused hand on her thigh. Plush and warm, she practically squeaked. Her eyes stuck to the image of those rough digits digging into her creamy skin.

"I-" She stutters before breathing in. "I was wondering...Um..."

"What? Never had a man touch you like this princess?" He tilted his head, Logans eyes meeting yours, eyebrow raised. You swallow your words and shyly nod.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. "Tsk tsk tsk, don't know what they're missin' huh. Such a sweet thing." He trails off, licking his lips and focusing back on you again. "Do you even know what a man looks like? Hm?"

Your eyes trail down, following the thick bulge in his jeans. A tightness developing in your chest, breath hitching. "N- No sir..."

Oh how pitiful. Such an innocent thing you were, weren't you?

"Wanna find out?"

You weakly nod and he shifts on the couch, opening up his legs a bit. Resting his arms up on the headboard. You shift, sliding off the couch before plopping down. Kneeling between those thick meaty thighs.

He practically moans, those wide little eyes staring up at him through those lashes. His heavy hand settling on the back of your head. "Go on baby"

"What if I do it wrong?" You whisper.

"You can't do an anatomy lesson wrong. Just-" He pauses, sighing with a laugh. "Unbuckle my pants."

You nod, clumsy fingers making quick work of his belt. Tossing it aside. Your palm brushes against his bulge and his breathing stutters, shutting his eyes as heat rolls down his stomach.

You open up his pants, watching him grow in his blue boxers. Your nails skim across the fabric, a tiny voice asking. "What's this Mr. Howlette?"

He shudders before answering. "Precum swee'heart...gets me lubed up. You really are innocent huh?"

You shyly nod, before tugging down his boxers. Your mouth grew dry, shifting as you grind back on your heel, the throb in your core growing more insistent by the second.

Thick and long, pulsing veins running up and down his length, his tip red and swollen. Oozing 'precum' as he called it.

You reach out, tapping his tip with the pad of your pointer finger. A hiss left him as his hips twitched, eyes focused on you like a wolf hungry for lamb.

"...you're...so swollen..." You mumble mostly to yourself, his dick jumping in your palm as you gently hold it in your hand.

He shudders. "Y- yeah. That's what ya do to me...princess."

You tilt your head, lazily circling his slit with your thumb. Needy whines leaving Logans mouth, his palm heavy against the back of your head. His fingers itched to get tangled in it, itched to pull and shove his cock down your throat but he restrained.

You were so new after all?

Your hands now moved on to the next play thing, groping up at his balls. "Does it hurt, when you're hard?"

He weakly chuckles, shaking his head. "It's...overwhelming at times...but it doesn't hurt. Fuck you're gonna make me cum-"

You tilt your head, looking down at his tip again, watching the precum dribble out. Sliding down the length of him, dripping off.

You tentatively lick your lips, pressing a tiny kiss to it. A groan finally leaves him as he squirms. "Shit.." His grip on you tightens, a slight tug at your hair.

You pull back immediately, looking up at him. "M'sorry..."

He curses again and shifts. "No, No. You're fine. Just-" He pauses, sighing, heat settling deep inside his stomach. A fire, an itch just needing to be scratched. "Just feels real good. Keep- Keep doing that."

You slowly nod, pressing your tongue flat against him, licking up as the saltiness of his precum coats your taste buds. Eyes flutters as you sloppily kiss his slit, hands groping and squeezing at his length.

It was sloppy, messy, definitely not the best hand job he's had but fuck you were just learning. And he was in utter bliss.

A throb started growing, tightening as he huffed, shutting his eyes tight. "B- Baby-" He hums and you suddenly take him in your mouth.

The warmth and drool against his cock was too much. Pleasure being ripped from his body, eyes shutting tight as ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat.

You gag, pulling back and choking a little before swallowing. Tangy and salty, it made you recoil slightly.

His eyes fluttered open, panting as he looks down at you and your clenched thighs.

"C'mere baby, let me return the favor."

[thatlotuscookie]

ok ok, hear me out, hear me out I swear-

a Haikyuu character who's a teacher(you pick which one bc I am indecisive lol) who students don't like because they assign too much HW, x Art-Teacher y/n who's super eccentric and all the students have started calling "Auntie" bc they like her so much... and somehow the students realize they're dating

✧･ﾟ: a/n: hiii thank you for the req anon! i choseTsukishima Kei x art teacher!fem reader cause why not :) sorry for the wait, it got a little busy. please enjoy and thank you for requestinng <3

✧ Title: ✧ Paintbrushes and Equations ✧ ✧ Characters: Math!TeacherTsukishima Kei x Art Teacher!Reader, Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life ✧ Rating: G ✧ Summary: Mr. Tsukishima Kei, the strict math teacher known for his tough assignments, and Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher adored by students, try to keep their budding relationship under wraps. But between secret coffee runs and after-school visits, it doesn’t take long for their students to catch on. ✧ Content/Tags: Secret Relationship, Soft Tsukishima, Teacher AU, Slow-burn Romance, Fluff and Humor ✧ WC: 1126 words // 6.8k chars

Mr. Tsukishima Kei was known as the strict, no-nonsense math teacher, infamous for assigning challenging homework and expecting punctuality from his students. Across the hall, however, was Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher who taught in a classroom full of painted murals, plants, and knick-knacks. Her students affectionately called her “Auntie,” loving her warm personality and encouraging nature.

Despite their differences, the two had quietly been dating for some time now, keeping things subtle so as not to spark gossip in the school hallways. But as careful as they tried to be, some moments were just too sweet to hide from their observant students.

Every morning, Tsukishima would stop by Y/N’s room before classes started. Though their relationship was mostly kept under wraps, there was one routine they couldn’t help but share—he’d bring her coffee, just the way she liked it, and stay for a few moments before his first class.

One particular morning, a student passing by happened to catch sight of them. Y/N was sitting at her desk, fiddling with paintbrushes while Tsukishima leaned against the edge of her desk, coffee cup in hand. She looked up at him with a bright smile as he handed her the coffee.

“Thank you, Kei! You know, I think your coffee runs are the best part of my day.”

“Maybe if you went to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t need this much caffeine,” he replied, rolling his eyes, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Bedtime? Reasonable? You’re talking to an artist, Kei!” She chuckled, raising her coffee cup in mock cheers.

The student who’d witnessed it ran back to their friends, spilling the details in hushed, excited whispers. “Guys, Auntie totally has Mr. Tsukishima wrapped around her finger. He’s bringing her coffee like it’s a daily thing!”

During lunch breaks, Tsukishima would sometimes slip away from the teachers’ lounge and make his way to Y/N’s art room, which was usually open to students who wanted to work on projects or just hang out with their favorite teacher. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Tsukishima was growing fond of this habit too.

One afternoon, Y/N was holding a brush in each hand, struggling to finish a mural one of her classes had started. Tsukishima approached, watching her for a moment as she fumbled with paint colors.

“Need a hand?” he asked, taking one of the brushes out of her grasp without waiting for an answer. He began painting in neat, deliberate strokes, adding to the vibrant, playful mural.

“Mr. Tsukishima,” Y/N grinned, “are you sure you can handle all this color?”

He just shrugged, pretending to be annoyed, but there was a glint in his eye. “It’s not my fault you’re terrible at ladders.”

The students present watched with wide eyes as their usually stern math teacher helped their beloved art teacher, even taking her playful teasing without so much as a sigh. “Is he… actually smiling?” one student whispered, amazed. “And helping her paint? They’re definitely dating.”

On Fridays, Y/N would stay late to finish up art projects, often leaving well after most of the other teachers had already gone home. But one evening, as she was cleaning up her brushes, she was startled by a familiar voice at the door.

“Didn’t I tell you not to stay this late alone?” Tsukishima’s tone was gentle, though there was a hint of concern.

“Oh, but I had just one more layer of glaze to apply! I didn’t want to leave it unfinished,” she replied, smiling sheepishly.

Tsukishima sighed and moved to take some of the supplies from her hands, setting them aside. “That can wait. You shouldn’t be here by yourself. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They left together, but not before another student, leaving basketball practice, caught sight of them walking side by side down the hallway, Tsukishima’s hand brushing hers in a quiet, comforting gesture.

“Did you see that?” the student whispered to a friend the next day. “Mr. Tsukishima totally waited for Auntie after school. He’s such a softie for her.”

When Field Day rolled around, Y/N was the designated supervisor for the art activities station. Her students flocked to her booth, excited to paint, tie-dye, and get a break from competitive games. Tsukishima, though not usually one for field activities, had somehow found himself “volunteered” to help out at her station by none other than Y/N herself.

At first, he’d tried to stay in the background, sorting supplies and ensuring everything was organized. But as more students lined up, Y/N pulled him over to assist with face painting. “Come on, Kei, it’s fun! Don’t be so serious,” she teased, handing him a paintbrush.

He gave her a long-suffering look but, after a few convincing nudges, gave in. Soon, students were giggling at the sight of Mr. Tsukishima painting bright flowers and animals on their cheeks.

“Mr. Tsukishima, can you paint a dragon?” one student asked, grinning. And to everyone’s surprise, Tsukishima nodded, actually putting in the effort to paint a rather impressive dragon.

Meanwhile, Y/N leaned in close, watching him with a proud smile. “See? I knew you had a colorful side.”

The students at the booth exchanged knowing looks, watching the way Tsukishima’s gaze softened every time he looked at Y/N. One bold student whispered, “They’re definitely together. I think Auntie’s the only person who could get him to paint a dragon.”

The biggest reveal came on Y/N’s birthday. Her classroom was decorated with student-made banners, handmade cards, and small, thoughtful gifts from her students. But the real surprise came when Tsukishima walked in with a bouquet of wildflowers, which he set on her desk, much to the shock of her students.

“Kei…” Y/N murmured, her eyes shining with surprise. “You didn’t have to—”

“Happy Birthday, Auntie,” he said simply, giving her a small, genuine smile before glancing pointedly at the students, who were watching, open-mouthed. He gave them his usual glare but, seeing the excitement in their eyes, eventually gave up on hiding it.

And with that, the students finally had their confirmation. They all whispered to each other excitedly, some even daring to give Tsukishima approving thumbs-up. From that day on, Tsukishima’s “monster math teacher” title softened in their eyes. He was still strict and demanding, but he was also the teacher who went out of his way to make their “Auntie” happy.

As the weeks went by, more little moments started to unfold between them—moments the students watched eagerly, as if they were witnessing a real-life romance. And while Tsukishima might not have been the most affectionate in public, he showed his care in small, steady ways, making sure Y/N was looked after and supported in the little things.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Cookies

Day 4: Paid time off.

Summary: Was it worth the pain?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 844

Warnings: fluff, glass breaking and kis being terrified :(

A/n: nothing to say except i love hazel, az and kaden🥹😭

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

At any given moment, Azriel would say he loved the sound of his mate’s giggles. When she laughed, she made Azriel laugh. Not because she was laughing at something funny. She made him laugh just because. He laughed because he knew his wife was happy, and that made him happy. He felt content.

But not now.

Not as she giggled away at his misery while he stood behind the three little devils in his kitchen, cursing his own mind for coming up with this idea to spend his paid time off.

Rhys had always tried to get him to take some rest, going on and on about how working all the time was not good for Azriel’s health. His efforts had doubled since Y/n and Azriel got married, and with Y/n supporting Rhysand, Azriel occasionally agreed to take some holidays.

It had already been a week since Hazel had proclaimed that Azriel was her best friend, and since then Y/n had been telling him he needed to get a day off.

Azril had agreed at once, deciding a day with his lovely daughter and nephew would be amazing. It would be great for everyone. Rhysand and Feyre would have some time alone, Hazel would get to play with her friend and Azriel would be spending the day with people that mattered the most to him.

He had not accounted for Hazel inviting Kaden to the play date too.

Azriel had been disappointed when he found Kaden in his living room when he came down just after waking up, Nyx and Hazel giggling along with the boy.

Y/n had glared at him when she found him frowning at the oblivious child.

It was after lunch now as all five of them stood in the kitchen, the kids gathered around the big bowl of cookie batter, giggling to each other as they tried to sneakily add more chocolate chips.

Y/n laughed again, grabbing Azriel’s jaw and pulling him close to plant a quick kiss to his lips.

"He’s a kid, Az. Let him breathe."

Az grumbled, turning away. "Remind me of that when he inevitably grows up and tries to take your daughter."

Before Y/n could answer, the sound of Hazel’s whine reached the two.

"Nyxie, I want to hold the bowl!"

Azriel’s spymaster instincts kicked in when he saw Hazel yank the bowl from Nyx, her grip too small to hold onto the large bowl. No matter how quick Azriel was, his fingers only grazed the bowl’s sides before it crashed against the ground, shattering into pieces.

Just as it did, Hazel began sobbing, and Azriel stood there, torn between comforting his baby and cleaning up the mess.

To his surprise, Kaden grabbed Hazel’s hand and dragged her back and away from the glass, telling her to stay put when she tried to walk close to Azriel.

"You will get hurt, Hazel!" Kaden whispered loudly, hugging her.

"I want daddy." She whimpered, wiping her face on her sleeve.

Azriel glanced at Y/n who was sweeping away the glass shards, raising a brow at him. Azriel huffed, watching as his shadows cleaned up along with his wife.

"Kids, come on. Let’s make cookies again." Azriel called, bringing out another bowl just as the shadows finished cleaning, trying to stop them all from crying.

Hazel hurried over to his side, clinging to his legs while Nyx hugged Y/n. Azriel looked to Kaden who stood in the corner, eyes wide and filled with tears. It was very clear he was shaken himself, and unlike the other two kids, he did not have his parents to comfort him.

He was scared, yet he got Hazel away from harm’s way.

Grudgingly, Azriel kneeled, eyes locked on Kaden. When Kaden realised Azriel was looking at him, he sniffled and met his eyes. It was very clear that despite the amount of times Azriel had met the kid, he was still terrified of him.

Quietly, he extended his hand towards the trembling boy, beckoning him closer. Kaden seemed unsure as he walked to Azriel, but could Azriel really blame him when he had taken every chance to silently terrorize the child?

Azriel rubbed Kaden’s back as he sniffled, clearly scared by the loud breaking of the glass.

This paid time off was going very differently than what Azriel had hoped it would go like.

"Alright, let’s get to making these cookies now. They won’t make themselves."

The kids giggled in response, wiping their tears and getting back on the stools they had been standing on. Azriel ignored Y/n’s gaze, knowing she would only give him the smug look she loved to shoot him all the time.

Y/n still pranced close to drop a kiss to Azriel’s cheek before declaring she was going to go feed Nuts.

"Daddy, hurry up, I’m hungry."

Azriel sighed, shaking his head.

Maybe he didn’t need more paid days off than necessary.

He sure loved them, but he wasn’t sure if they were worth breaking his back over.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[sunfyrisms]

it’s genuinely so sad seeing some people blaming vi for cait leaving her, because it’s exactly what people did with the whole powder situation.

vi was a child when she saw the brutal, horrific end of her brothers and fathers. she was a child, she was hurt, physically and mentally, she lashed out at powder. it is clearly a mistake that she regretted. she looked at her bloodied fist in horror, started crying when she looks at powder, and she left to collect herself. because she was the only one powder has left, and powder was the only one she has left. vander’s last words to her were instructing her to take care of powder. she needed a moment, just a moment, to grieve. but the moment she saw powder is in danger? she immediately got up. she was ready for another fight. she was ready to protect her sister, without hesitation, even after fighting and losing the rest of their family before her very eyes.

i think a lot of people take jinx’s words as an immediate, inherit truth. “you created jinx.” perhaps it’s because jinx herself is the one who said it. but i don’t think vi did that. vi was in prison, as a child, surrounded by violence. constantly beaten, constantly hungry, but she never once forgot about powder. not a day, not an hour, went by that she didn’t think about her little sister. the first thing she does upon getting out of prison is immediately try to find powder. powder may have been traumatized by that fateful night, rightfully so, vi was too, but i don’t think vi created jinx. silco was the one who created jinx. he manipulated her, worsened her mental state, the whole nine yards. i’m not here to discuss whether he loved her because that’s ultimately not what this post is about. what i’m saying is that vi didn’t create jinx, but she blames herself for it anyway. she blames herself for abandoning powder, for not being able to protect her, for her roughness.

it’s so painstakingly obvious she isn’t willing to do that again. she isn’t willing to hurt those she loves. as a result, she’s so soft, so gentle, with caitlyn. she wipes away her tears, holds her, and genuinely sympathizes with her loss. she is able to be there for caitlyn because she has lost people time and time again. she joins caitlyn’s elite force to compensate for her actions (because, again, she openly states she believes she created the monster that is jinx). she becomes the thing she hated most to attempt to right her wrongs, but she still has her morals, she’s growing increasingly uncomfortable with caitlyn’s increasingly violent and cold deposition.

vi is scared of what caitlyn is becoming. she is openly scared of caitlyn, of how unrecognizable her rage and grief is making her. she doesn’t call out caitlyn’s rapidly growing hatred and dehumanization of her own people, not at first. but she’s scared. she’s scared what’s happening to the woman who was shown the reality of what her people face, what’s happening to the woman who genuinely wanted to make a difference, the woman who is ultimately kind as she is naive, the woman who gave away her only means of protection to save vi.

after their battle against jinx and sevika, she voices her concerns. she openly asks caitlyn what’s wrong with her. when she says caitlyn is acting like jinx, she isn’t being cruel. she’s trying to bring caitlyn back to reality. she’s saying “you’re losing yourself and it’s scaring me”. she grabs caitlyn’s arm, but, remembering that she hurt powder, what resulted from that, she immediately loosens her grip, positions her hand so she’s gently holding caitlyn’s wrist. she’s not willing to hurt caitlyn. she wants a productive conversation, she wants to understand, she wants to communicate, she wants caitlyn to understand that she’s becoming something dangerous, and she will do something she will regret.

caitlyn is triggered by vi’s words. she likely, at least subconsciously, resents and blames vi for her mother’s death. vi pleaded with caitlyn not to kill jinx, and caitlyn hesitated, and that resulted in the death of her mother. to be clear, i don’t blame vi for cassandra’s death, because she legitimately had nothing to do with it. but i think caitlyn blames her. she blames her for stopping her a second time, and takes vi’s statement as a direct comparison to her and her mother’s killer. on a surface level, it might have been, but i think it was a warning. it was a warning to caitlyn that her grief and rage were blinding her and she was betraying the morals she held so closely in season one. she’s actively becoming unrecognizable to vi like how jinx is unrecognizable to her, and she doesn’t want that. she doesn’t want caitlyn to lose herself.

in the end, that softness, it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter that she tried so hard to go about it differently, to be gentle rather than strong. because caitlyn strikes her in the same place she healed her wounds. caitlyn strikes her with her weapon, looks at her with such obvious contempt and disdain, just like the enforcers she’s encountered her entire life, and vi knows she’s lost her, just like she’s lost everyone. caitlyn is unrecognizable, blinded by her hatred, and vi is alone. she’s left alone after the woman who promised to not change changes so deeply and so badly.

i think that’s the tragedy of vi. she learns from her mistakes, she tries to be gentle, she carries the grief of everyone she loves, and she loves very deeply. however, she can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. she can’t stop people she loves from becoming their worst selves.

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 11

Hey guys! We're back!! It is feeling like this story is almost done, but every time I finish a chapter I go "This has two more chapters in it, I'm almost done!" and I've done that for the last three chapters. So I have given up trying to figure out when it's going to end. Hopefully the answer is sometime before the next Olympics.

In this we have a silly Eddie, Steve and Max are sneaky, and Max and Eddie have their first competition.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Steve continued to have good days and bad days, but always Eddie and Robin were there to help him work through the bad. And then he would spill it all out to Dr. Hughes.

Today he had been able to wade out to Max in the main pool to correct her foot work. The water had come up to his chest, just like it did in the kiddie pool.

“All right,” Steve said gently. “I’m going to touch your leg. If you feel uncomfortable in anyway, I’ll have Robin do it instead, okay?”

Max thought about it for a moment. “But just my leg right?”

“Just your ankle even,” he assured her. “Ready?”

Max waded over to the side of the pool and started kicking her feet to level out her body. Steve gently grabbed her ankle and repositioned her foot so it was more like an extension of her leg.

“Whoa!”

“That’s right,” he said, “now keep it like that.”

Robin and Eddie who had been working in the endless pool came back to the main pool just as Steve was pulling his shirt back on.

Eddie eyed the wet swim trunks and the happily kicking Max and a sly smile spread over his face. “Stevie... you wouldn’t have happened to have gotten into the pool with Max would you have?”

Steve batted his eyelashes innocently. “Who me?” He turned to Max. “Did you see me get into the pool?”

“Nope!”

Eddie knelt on the side of the pool and said, “I’ll buy you ice cream for the next month if you tell me if he got in the pool.”

Robin sneaked up behind him and with Max’s help pulled him into the water as gently as they could, as to not trigger Steve.

It must have worked because when they all came up for air, Steve was doubled over with laughter.

“Absolute menaces the lot of you,” he said once he caught his breath. “I got the competition schedule for next week. Max is in beginner and Eddie in intermediate. I tried to argue for higher, but they because you’ve been out for so long, they want you in there first to see if you have room to grow.”

Eddie wiped the water off of his face. “That’s fair. I don’t think I’m ready for higher yet anyway.”

Steve gave him a fond look. “And then that’s what we’ll do. If you don’t feel comfortable competing at above intermediate yet, then I won’t force you. I just worry they’ll accuse of you of deliberately choosing lower to spank fifteen and sixteen year olds.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment.

“Oh.”

He went to go shove his hair in front of his face, but it was all tucked away in his cap, so he started to sink into the water.

Steve, Robin, and Max all watched as he held his breath under water.

“So how long do you think he can hold his breath?” Max asked after about a minute. “Because I think cell death happens after three minutes.”

“Eh...” Robin said waving her hand back and forth, “about four to five, actually.”

Just then Eddie burst through the water, gasping for air. He wiped the water away and looked around. “So is anyone going to be nice and completely forget that happened?”

All three of them shared glances with each other and then said together, “No.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands. He slunk off to his lane with a sigh. “Woe! Woe is me! For I have been forsaken by my own team. Woe!”

Steve and Max shared a glance.

“Is he always this dramatic?” Max asked, eyeing Eddie splashing about and moaning about his fate or some shit.

Robin scoffed as she pulled herself out of the pool and rotated to sit on its edge. “This is tame for him, if I’m being honest.”

Eddie stopped his sputtering and turned to her quickly. “I? I am dramatic?” Then he made a sweeping bow, nearly face planting into the water. “Why thank you!”

Everyone giggled but Max and Eddie got back into their lanes and started practicing again. Robin got up and went to go stand by Steve.

“I’m glad you were able to help Max on your own,” she murmured. “But just remember, if you can’t, call and I’ll coming running, okay?”

“Okay.”

~

It was their first swim meet and Robin wasn’t sure who was more nervous, Max and Eddie or Steve.

She was sure that that pen lid would be a mangled, tangled up mess by the time this was over with.

She looked around the room, spotting a few friends, the Hell Squad from their own facility, and one very unfriendly face indeed.

Billy Hargrove.

Billy Hargrove was a swimmer from California and he thought living on the coast instantly made you a better swimmer. He even had that bit of surfer boy charm. You’d expect this blond haired, blued eyed, tan Adonis to start singing Beach Boys or some shit, but no.

Billy Hargrove was an ass. And he hated all the comparisons between him and Steve at the last Olympics. Dude went on to barely win bronze in two of five events and not medal in any of the others.

Today he was wearing a red and gold coach’s jacket with HARGROVE emblazoned on the back with two blonds standing next him as he talked them in low voices. One was a girl with strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and bright smile. The other was a guy that looked about the same age as the girl. He looked like he had walked out the pages of Good Christians R Us. Hair neatly cut, blue eyes, chiseled jaw and washboard abs.

Robin hated them both on sight.

She was about to steer Steve away from all that when Billy looked up immediately clocked Steve, who promptly stiffened.

Max and Eddie who were talking to him noticed the sudden change in Steve’s demeanor. And unlike the locker room with Andy, Eddie could tell that this was a different breed of shark coming their way.

“Stevie...” Billy greeted. “When I saw the name Harrington I was wondering if that was you and then here you are. Such a pleasant surprise.”

Robin and Steve shared a bitchy glance. “Pleasant isn’t the word I would use,” Steve scoffed.

“You actually getting in the water, Harrington, or are you going to bitch out again?” Billy went on as if Steve hadn’t said a word.

Steve seethed. Billy had been present the first time he tried to get into the pool after his accident and started screaming.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Eddie said with a grin, “Stevie here doesn’t need to get in the water to beat you. He has me.”

Billy looked him up and down and he looked impressed for all of two seconds before he scoffed. “I didn’t think they allowed boys with such pretty curls,” he said tugging on one of the strands. Eddie swatted his hand away. “Maybe you should be on the girls’ team.”

“Last time I checked,” Eddie huffed, “I have the balls for the men’s team. Can’t say the same for the asshole who came up and harassed a guy that had his Olympic dreams washed away because of faulty equipment that left him traumatized and hurt for life, but still loves to swim so much that he would rather coach then to walk away forever.”

Billy’s face twisted in rage and he opened his mouth to reply when the whistle sounded. He jabbed a finger in Eddie’s face. “We’re not done.”

He walked off and suddenly all the tension built up in Steve escaped like a deflated balloon.

“That guy is a dick,” Max hissed. “My mom used to date a guy just like him out in Cali. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were related.”

That made Steve laugh. “I’ll beat him where I’ve always beaten him, in the water. Now come on, it’s time for you two to hit the showers. The beginners are about to start. You’re in the third heat, Max, first podium.”

She nodded and her and Eddie took off their team shirts and hit the showers. Steve looked over at Billy and smirked. Billy was watching every inch of Eddie’s body as he padded over to the showers that were next to the pool.

Robin handed him his bobby pins and he deftly put his hair under the cap, making it as sleek as any of the other male contestants.

The first set of eight girls lined up and then they were off with the shot of the starting gun. Steve watched, looking out for the girls that would be Max’s competition. So far none of the girls showed real promise and that included the girl who won.

The next heat was the same. None of the other girls had the same spark Max did. He looked up to the stands where the families were supposed to there to cheer them on. Robin’s parents were there. Eddie’s uncle, too. Of course Steve’s parents wouldn’t be there. He hadn’t talked them in so long.

He didn’t see the woman that would come to pick up Max and it made Steve squirm a bit. Then just before Max’s heat, he saw her come rushing in. Her hair was wild as if she had been running and she looked out of breath. She leaned over to whisper something to Wayne. Wayne shook his head and pointed to where Max was getting ready to get up on her podium.

Steve went over to her and pointed up at the stands.

Max’s eyes lit up and she waved at her mom. Her mom waved back. Max got up on her podium and put her goggles in place over her eyes. Steve stepped back and gave the judge with the gun a nod, showing that he had moved back far enough. Then the gun went off.

Max easily kept pace with the other girls and managed to squeak out winning by an arms length, touching her pad first.

She pulled off her goggles and looked at her time. She had clearly won. She started jumping and shrieking in the water. She pulled herself out and ran up to give Steve the biggest hug.

“I told you, you could do it,” Steve murmured into her cap.

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed. “Nerd.”

They went through the next few heats and Max came in third overall in the girls division. Which considering it was her first meet, was very impressive.

Then it was time for the intermediate and as they watched the girls, Eddie began bouncing up and down to warm up his muscles.

“You ready to blow these people out of the water?” Steve asked with a grin. “I gave the organizers one last chance to put you in masters, but they wouldn’t do it.”

Eddie chuckled. “I don’t have the confidence you do in me, but hell yeah, I’m ready.”

Steve slapped him on the shoulder and watched as Eddie got up to the podium. He pulled the goggles over his eyes and turned away from the water.

This is what he loved most of all about the backstroke. Not facing the water or seeing his competitors out of the corners of his eyes. It was just him and waiting for the sound of the gun.

BANG!

And then he was arching backwards into the water, as smooth as silk. His arms and body worked with the water, slicing through like a hot knife through butter. He could hear the splashing of the other competitors but they all seemed so distant to himself. Not that they were that far away. Only that he felt on whole other realm then they were.

He touched the pad and peeled off his googles to look up at the clock.

He was in first place.

He was in first place.

He was in first place.

He looked up at the stands to see Mrs. Mayfield and Uncle Wayne on their feet and cheering for him. He raised his fist and they waved back excitedly.

It came as no surprise that he won best overall.

He was standing next to Steve celebrating with his team, when the judges came up to them.

“We would like to talk to you about moving up to the masters,” the first judge said with a grimace.

Eddie and Steve shared a knowing grin.

“I think that could be arranged,” Steve said, smug. The ‘I told you so’ lingering in the humid air of the pool.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[pinkslipxox]

Hey! I have a request. Not sure if you are taking them at the moment? If not, please ignore this. This idea has come from personal experience lol, I was in the store today just going to pick up some random things but I came across a baby section, they had cute little toys and a cute crib. It just really made me realise how much I want to have a baby one day.

Maybe you could make a fic, Billie and reader go to the store late at night in their pj's because billie wants to pick up something silly (you can decide) and the reader just wanders off while she's waiting and comes across a baby section and just can't help but think how much she really wants to have a baby with Billie one day. Billie comes over and asks us what we are thinking about, and we just look at her and tell her how much this really makes us want to have a baby. And to our shock, Billie says she wants to have a baby too. Just all fluffy.

- Thank you so much 💓

ahhh how adorable! Manifesting that one day you have your baby, angel xx ilysm 🫶❤️

———————————-———————————————

“Billie, I can’t believe you,” you say between laughs as your wife parks the car in the near empty grocery parking lot.

“My love, we can’t have hot chocolate unless there’s whipped cream. It’s like a sin,” Billie proclaims with playful determination, sending a wink to you.

You shake your head fondly at her with a smile. Being married to Billie included random yet memorable moments like this. One minute the two of you were laying in bed, the next you two were up making hot chocolate because the two of you collectively thought that waiting to fall asleep was boring. Yet in the midst of making said hot chocolate, Billie discovered that there was no whipped cream to be found in the fridge. Which explains why you two are in the parking lot of a grocery store twenty minutes before closing time.

Hand in hand, you and Billie hurry inside the grocery store. It is brightly lit and a few shoppers can be seen buying their last minute purchases. You and Billie come here so often that the both of you already know whole store like the back of your hands. It is also the most convenient location since it’s less than a ten minute drive from your house— five minutes if Billie is driving.

“Billie, I just remembered. We’re out of laundry detergent,” you muse and Billie nods.

“Okay. How about you get the laundry detergent and I get the whipped cream? And then we meet back here,” she suggests and you smile.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply and Billie kisses your forehead.

“Don’t get lost, Y/N,” she smirks and you playfully roll your eyes at her.

You watch Billie walk off for a moment before making your way to the aisle where the laundry detergent is. And despite your best efforts to resist, you find yourself looking through the baby aisle. On the shelves are everything an expectant parent might need for their child— formula, diapers, baby monitors, strollers. Your favorite thing to look at are the clothes. Especially the little shoes.

Having a family has always been a dream of yours. To hold a baby boy or girl in your arms, kiss their little face, inhale their newborn scent, and watch them grow up. You’ve yet to talk to Billie about it. She’s so good with kids, and it makes your heart melt whenever you see her interact with them. Sometimes you even dream of you and her with a blue eyed baby boy or a blonde haired baby girl with your eyes.

Only time will tell.

“There you are, my love,” Billie exclaims as she walks over to you with the whipped cream in her hand. She smiles at you and then looks at the baby outfit you’re admiring. Then, with a playful smirk, she teases, “I don’t think that’ll fit you, Y/N.”

You smack her arm playfully. “Oh, shut up, Bills.”

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Billie asks after a beat of silence. She then adds, “And don’t just say ‘nothing’, you always say that.”

You laugh softly at that. She knows you so well. That’s what makes her the best wife in the world. She’d also make the best mother in the world. Next to Maggie and your own mother, of course.

“It’s just… looking at all this stuff makes me want to have a baby,” you hum, a hint of hesitant in your voice. You then turn to Billie, sliding your hand into hers, squeezing it gently. “Don’t you ever think about having a mini you or me running around the house, Bills?”

“I do, actually,” she confesses, much to your shock and delight. Her voice is soft and warm, and a gentle smile tugs at her lips. “I want to experience everything life has to offer with you, Y/N. It’s just that… well, I assumed you didn’t want kids because we’ve never talked about it before.”

“Of course I do, Billie. More than anything,” you murmur as happy tears begin to swell up in your eyes.

Billie chuckles. “It’s settled, then. Let’s have a baby, Y/N.”

“Oh, Billie,” you sigh, content, as you wrap around arms around her, your heart swelling with love and excitement at the thought of having a child in the near future.

“I love you, Y/N Y/M/N O’Connell,” Billie murmurs softly, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

“I love you, too, Billie,” you whisper, kissing her cheek.

“How about we buy that outfit? You know, for motivation,” Billie says and you nod enthusiastically, loving the idea.

“And the shoes?” you request with a pout as you hold up the cutest little pair of Converse.

“Whatever you want, mama,” Billie chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

Mama.

You love the sound of that.

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 5 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - With their rebirth, Art and (Y/n) dwindle into hiding while they recover from the tragic events that had occurred, finding tranquility in each other as they reunite. However, once that peace was disturbed, there was no telling what chaos had been unleashed.

Notes - New era = new main series cover y’all 👏🏻 This follows the events of Terrifier 3 for the most part, but obviously not to a T with more behind the scenes with Art and reader and the reader being incorporated into different scenes.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or have a request!

Word Count - 6,180

Warning(s) - Violence, gore, smut, alcohol/drinking, Vicky and Art are their own warning

⚠️ Do not read if you care about spoilers for the third movie/haven’t watched it ⚠️

Song Inspiration -

Paul Wiley - Morgue (Terrifier 2)

ZAND - Slut Money

(Y/n) basked under his intense gaze, adjusting to his appearance. Something felt different. New and refreshing. She didn’t know what to say, not after all that had happened and all that was happening in the moment so quickly. 

She moved to sit up, Art immediately holding out his hand and she took it with grace. He stood as her torso rose with ease, carefully watching her every movement as her legs followed suit. 

Her hand held onto Art’s arm for support until she felt well enough to stand on her own. She stood there for a moment, silent as her body adjusted from being still for so long. 

Without a word, she looked around the dusty room with a neutral expression as the clown grinned down at her menacingly. (Y/n) then spotted a cracked, full-length mirror leaning against one of the walls. 

She turned, feet moving her towards it suspensefully as Art kept his own planted, watching her in anticipation. Once stood in front of it, her arm reached out to wipe off a bit of the dust built onto it and her stomach sank. 

She almost couldn’t recognize the woman in front of her. Her skin was significantly more pale, blemishes somewhat faded and features more pronounced. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion when she locked eyes with herself, leaning in to further examine. 

She noticed what seemed to be a thin, white ring along the outer edge of her pupils and she blinked to see if her mind was playing tricks on her. And yet they still remained. 

(Y/n) then spotted the blood stain on her shirt and looked down at herself, hand reaching up to brush her fingers over the wound that was no longer bleeding, and somehow already healing. 

Art finally moved, stalking over to stand behind her as she straightened herself upright. She turned her head to look up at him with a curious gaze. 

“What’s happened?” She whispered, yet received no response. 

Art simply stared with the same smile he always bore. 

“Are we dead?” She asked in a now flat tone. 

Art shook his head slowly. 

“How? I saw your body, that’s not possible.” She pressed, her body now completely facing him. 

The clown shrugged with a mischievous look in his eyes. He then brought up one of his hands to her face, knuckles brushing against her cheek as he admired her new appearance. The same hand reached around to rest itself on her lower back, guiding her with him to a rocking chair that sat near one of the few unbroken windows of their home. 

“This has to be a dream…” She commented mindlessly as he tossed away a piece of wood that sat on the chair, turning it around to face the window and sitting on it. “Or limbo…” She continued with a dazed look in her eyes, moving to sit on Art’s lap when he outstretched his arm closest to her to invite her. 

Once she was settled, he brought a hand up to her head to gently press it against him, her eyes suddenly growing heavy with exhaustion. She focused on the sound of the chair rocking beneath them, his hand moving down to her back to soothingly rub it, continuing until he felt her breathing and heart steady before resting it on the arm of the chair.

-

Voices muffled inside the rotted building, floorboards creaking as they stepped around. 

“Please don’t tell me you believe all the stories about this place?” One of the men asked his partner Dennis incredulously. 

“What stories?” The man questioned with concern. 

“Back in the early 90’s,” Maurice, the older of the two, began. “Some maniac abducted and killed over a dozen kids in this town. They buried all the bodies in the basement here in this building. Now everyone swears the place is haunted.”

Dennis stepped forward, expression unreadable. “Are you fucking with me?” 

Maurice didn’t answer and instead continued to stare at him with a hard expression. 

“You’re fucking with me.” The man smiled hopefully. 

“Of course I’m fucking with you!” Maurice lunged suddenly and his partner jumped back as the older man cackled. “Now, come on. I’ll take the first floor and the basement, and you… upstairs. Been skittish all day.” He commented before beginning to wander around the floor. 

Dennis sighed, looking up at the ceiling then around the room reluctantly. As Maurice disappeared, the man pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on, trudging his way upstairs. 

“Jingle bells, jingle bells… this place fucking smells.” He sang as he looked around, the atmosphere static and felt nearly ancient. 

The floorboards creaked with every step, even louder as he reached a particularly cluttered room. Random items were scattered, even a rusted bicycle sat in a corner against the wall. 

“Disgusting.” He mumbled to himself as cobwebs were scattered everywhere he looked. “Anybody home?” He called half-heartedly, leaning down to avoid the lower wooden boards of the ceiling when his eyes caught sight of something particularly concerning. 

In front of a window sat what seemed to be two figures in a rocking chair, both still as a statue with webs covering them. 

“What the fuck?” He muttered, leaning his head over to investigate further without having to move closer. “Hello?” He called louder, testing to see if they were real. 

After receiving no response or movement, he whistled. Still no response. 

“That’s not real.” He tried to convince himself, legs shifting nervously. “That’s not real, right?” Dennis stepped back slightly. “Hey, Jackson!” He called out to his partner, but was met with silence. “Anybody home?” He questioned the figures, finally giving in and making his way towards the chair. “Yoo-hoo.” 

Dennis reached the chair, waving his flashlight in the face of an eerie black and white clown, white eyes open like saucers with a horrifying grin. 

“What the fuck.” He whispered, eyes moving down to what seemed to be a life-size doll curled in the clown’s lap. 

Her peaceful expression did little to calm his nerves. If anything, it enhanced them. 

“Holy shit.” Dennis’ voice shook as he examined them. “Hey!” He whispered, then waved a hand in front of the clown’s face. “Hey!” He tried again. “Are you real?” 

The clown suddenly lunged his hand into his face and he shouted with fright, the room a blur as he was thrown across the room by its masked strength. 

(Y/n) jumped awake, startled by the commotion and looked up to see Art already grinning down at her. He fussed over her appearance, focused as he picked off the cobwebs from her and brushed her off before urging her to stand up. 

Once she did so with a stumble, he followed suit, joints aching and popping as they both stretched with satisfaction. 

The two of them slowly looked over at the man on the floor who struggled, shuffling painfully and groaning. (Y/n) stepped back as Art sauntered his way over to him, the former then moving closer to watch the scene unfold curiously. 

Art bent down and grabbed the man’s shirt, tossing him once again against the wall as (Y/n) bit her lip at the sight. 

She continued to watch eagerly as the clown once again stepped over to the man crawling across the floor, snatching his shirt a second time before kneeling to pin him down with a knee on his back as if it was nothing. 

Art laughed from above him, drinking in the sight of the squirming body as if it were a glass of wine. 

As they continued, (Y/n) spotted movement from her peripherals, looking up to see what looked like a woman with a disfigured face, her skin scarred, almost leathery in appearance. Her dress was tattered and filthy and (Y/n)’s eyes squinted in disapproval when she noticed her watching the scene just as she had been. 

The woman’s head tilted as Art stabbed a large, rod-like nail through the man’s palm and raised a glass shard up to her face, caressing it against her neck as her opposite hand reached down to the edge of her dress. 

(Y/n)’s breath quickened, no longer paying attention to what was happening closest to her. The shard was brought down to the woman’s marred thighs, disappearing beneath her dress as (Y/n) grew nauseous at the implication. 

Once she noticed her hand begin to thrust the sharp object, (Y/n) snapped her head to look away as the screams of the man filled her ears. Her fists clenched and unclenched, a multitude of emotions flooding her as the events unfolded. 

When the screaming suddenly stopped and labored breathing filled the silence, she looked up to see a puddle of blood beneath the woman, still dripping onto the floor. She then looked over at Art who gave the new individual a for shame motion with a playful grin. 

He then looked over at (Y/n) and began to laugh, but it abruptly stopped when he noticed her expression. Her breathing was heavy, eyes set on the other woman as rage began to boil in her veins. 

With the same smile, he slowly rose to his feet and made his way over to her, wiping off his hands onto his suit. He lifted a hand to her chin and turned her head to look at him, but when she met his eyes he was greeted by an icy glare he had never received before. 

Art frowned at her and raised his eyebrows, hands delicately circling her face, then cupping over his heart with his smile returning, blinking at her to show his adoration. 

Her eyes shifted to the woman and he stepped to the side to also look at her, then felt a pair of arms begin to possessively wrap around his torso. He looked down to see (Y/n) still focused on the woman, but now latching herself onto him like a leech and he wiggled his eyebrows excitedly. 

One of his own hands rested on top of her forearm, his other reaching up to snake around her shoulders. Art then looked up at the scarred figure with a dark expression and they watched as she huffed, turning around and waddling out of the room. 

“Who is she?” (Y/n) asked once out of earshot. “And don’t lie to me.” She quickly added before he could respond, turning to face him as she let go. 

Art took a dramatic and deep breath, shoulders dropping. He pointed to where the woman was standing, then between the two of them and motioned a heartbeat over his chest with his hands. 

“She is why we’re alive?” Art nodded, sticking a finger up on both sides of his head as makeshift horns. “A demon?” (Y/n) deadpanned. “A demon wants us alive.” She continued as more of a statement of disbelief than a question. 

Art made a stabbing motion and motioned between the two of them. 

“She wants us alive to continue what we’re doing?” 

He nodded excitedly and pointed at her. (Y/n) crossed her arms, tongue running along the inside of her cheek in irritation as she looked off to the side. Then she gave him a warning look. 

“If she tries anything with you, I’m getting an exorcist.” She dropped her arms and began making her way to the door. “Even if it means we have to find something else to keep us alive.” 

Art watched her disappear, teeth set in an anxious smile as he patted his legs nervously. He wasn’t worried about the demon, no. He was worried about themselves because he knew she never made an empty threat.

(Y/n) made her way downstairs to the main floor, sighing at the familiar sight of their workroom that seemed unchanged besides the dust that settled.  Her brow furrowed in a silent question, turning to the footsteps that entered behind her. 

“How long was I asleep for?” She asked Art as her eyes widened with concern. 

He looked up, mouth moving thoughtfully as his finger tallied the air. He then smiled and held up five fingers. 

“Five what? Months? Years?” Art nodded. “Years? Five years?” His head followed her back and forth as she paced. “What the hell. How is that even possible? How is any of this possible?” She whipped around to face him with a dumbfounded expression and he shrugged. 

Art then made his way over to her and motioned for her to breathe and calm down, pointing to her, then himself adoringly before resting his hands on her shoulders and kissing the tip of her nose.

She followed his instructions, taking a deep breath and letting her forehead fall onto his chest in defeat. “I can’t keep up with all of this, Art.” 

(Y/n) felt him rest a hand on her back, walking her to her room that was still left untouched, though he had to argue with Vicky on that one. Along with a few other matters. 

Everything looked the same, other than a few pieces of paint that chipped off of the walls. Art wandered over to the bed, aggressively patting at the covers and pillows and clearing off dust before presenting it to her with a dramatic flail of his arms, inviting her to lay on it.

(Y/n) sighed and chuckled, closing the door behind her and dragging her feet over to him, about to lay on it when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. 

She stepped in front of it, head tilting as she continued to adjust to her new appearance. She watched as the clown moved to stand behind her, locking eyes with her when he rested his chin on top of her head and let his arms dangle at his sides

“So this is us now?” She sighed as Art dropped his persona, face neutral. 

She turned around to face him, hands reaching up to cup his defined cheeks. 

“I don’t mind.” (Y/n) mumbled, eyes bouncing around to different areas of his face, taking in his features. “As long as I have you.” She stood on her toes, reaching up to place her lips over his in a rare, delicate kiss. 

As they melted into it, she felt his hand wander and squeeze at the meat of her arse. She jumped at the sudden contact and felt him grin against her lips, her hands grazing down to his chest and walking him back to the edge of the bed.

He stumbled back when he was pushed down to sit on the mattress with a surprising amount of force, gasping silently. His face was in shock as he looked up at (Y/n) who held the same expression. 

Once the initial surprise wore off, he grinned wickedly and snatched her by her waist, yanking her to sit on top of him. 

“That’s new.” She mused in a whisper and he wiggled his eyebrows at her before capturing her lips with his own, feeling her hips roll against him as she sighed at the relief. 

Her hands pressed him down further to lay back, following him down and working her lips to an exposed patch of skin at the edge of his ruffle collar, sucking and nipping at the skin as his hands wandered her figure. His hips rose to meet her rhythm and she moaned, dragging her teeth against him.

His hands wandered down to her hips, kneading her before gripping the edge of her pants and ripping them in half with a sudden jerk, peeling them off of her. His hands held her waist, lifting the two of them to sit up and unzip his suit, raising his hips to expose his throbbing cock. 

Locking eyes with her, he laid back down and she adjusted herself to hover over him, grabbing hold of his member and aligning it with her throbbing pussy. 

Her head tilted back, lips parted as she sunk herself down onto him, impaling herself until she sat against his pelvis. Art reached up and forcefully gripped her chin, jerking her head down to look at him. He grit his teeth, practically snarling as she began to set an even pace, looking between his disappearing cock and her pleasant features. 

Art quirked an eyebrow in encouragement, moving to take hold of her hips and guide her into a faster rhythm. She gasped and moaned at the new sensation, hands resting on his bare chest for support as she rocked against him. 

Her volume increased when he began to meet her movements with his own, grip tightening into a bruising hold. 

“Art, please -“ (Y/n) gasped and he nodded at her as she desperately ground against him, eyebrows knit together with pleasure. 

He sat up, taking her throat into his mouth and pounding up into her suddenly. Her hand reached to the back of his head, her other clawing at his back as they grew closer and closer to their long-awaited release. 

“Yes, yes, yes -“ She chanted as her lips brushed against the top of his head, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she screamed through her orgasm, trembling in his arms as he followed suit, thrusts slowing as he rode it out. 

He licked up her jaw and bit at her lip, pulling back with a shit-eating grin when she looked away bashfully. He pulled out, carefully rolling (Y/n) to lay on the bed as he stood and zipped up his suit. 

Art blew her a kiss and she giggled, watching as he wandered over to her wardrobe and opened it with a flourish. He crossed one arm in front of him, the other tapping a finger against his chin as he eyed the articles of clothing. 

Once he finally decided, he pulled out a casual black dress, walking back over to the bed giddily and laying it out beside her, pointing at it excitedly for her. (Y/n) sat up, eyeing his choice before agreeing. 

“But how am I going to clean up? I doubt I have my house anymore.” Art immediately waved her off, snatching her by her wrist and pulling her up.

His solution? Simply find the nearest house and use its bathroom. Granted, the journey was more bloody on his end, but it was far from an issue as long as (Y/n) got what she wanted. 

And if it meant he was able to slip in another kill or two. 

Freshly cleaned, (Y/n) entered their home, passing the demon - named Vicky, Art informed her - who sat on the floor of one of the empty rooms messing with a various pile of items. Art stayed outside, snooping through the demolition van that the two men drove in. 

(Y/n) stood in the center of their workroom, looking around with a sense of nostalgia. Memories passed through her mind, feeling so distant yet also as if it all happened just the day before. 

Suddenly, Art passed her with an armful of items, a tank of an unknown substance sticking out amongst them to her. 

As he worked to get settled, she looked around the room, spotting her camera sitting on her stool. (Y/n) smiled, walking over to it and delicately picking it up and dusting it off. She examined it, checking for any damage and felt satisfied when none was evident. She took a deep breath, turning on the camera and giggling when it lit up. 

“It still works.” She told Art as she walked up to his bench, sitting on the spare stool. He patted her shoulder joyfully as he moved over to the stove, lighting it as he placed a pot over one of the burners, filled with a thick, mysterious gray substance. 

(Y/n) eyed the new materials on the bench, landing on the tank and turning the label for her to read it. 

“Liquid nitrogen?” She read curiously with underlying excitement. 

Art nodded as he took his seat on his own stool, looking around the surface of the bench like a child on Christmas with their presents. 

“That’ll be fun.” She watched as he began to tinker with different items, primarily focusing on the tank as he screwed and tightened various items to connect it into a new contraption. 

After a while, (Y/n) jumped out of her dream-like state when a rat suddenly scurried onto her lap to climb onto the bench. She teetered on the stool, almost falling back until Art snatched her arm and steadied her, eyeing the rat in annoyance. 

“We need to trap them or something, I’m not living with that.” She huffed in exasperation, trying to steady her heart rate. Art wiggled a finger at her in agreement, swiftly returning to his work.

The sound of the substance on the stove began to boil in the background, creating a soothing ambience as Art worked, focusing intently on the task at hand. He pointed at a larger nozzle sitting next to her and she grabbed it for him, handing it over to watch him connect it to the tank with a comedic level of precision. 

He looked over at (Y/n), wiggling his eyebrows mischievously before dragging his gaze over to the rat that sniffed around beside him. He turned the tank, facing the nozzle towards the clueless rodent and opened his mouth with an eager expression before toggling the release. 

(Y/n) quickly hid her face when the substance shot out with a hiss, clouding the area around them and leaving the air colder in its wake while Art shook with excitement. 

Though it suddenly stopped, the air cleared. 

(Y/n) slowly turned to look back at the bench, seeing the rat now immobile and covered in a sheet of white powder. She watched as Art reached over and picked it up by its tail, examining it before tapping it with his finger to test its solidity. 

She gasped when he suddenly banged it against the table, the rat crumbling and breaking into bloody bits as he did so. He raised it once more, still by its tail, and turned to show (Y/n) with sinister countenance. 

As if they could read each other’s mind, they looked at each other, (Y/n)’s lips stretching into her own smile.  

-

“Just imagine the look on their faces when I publish the next piece.” (Y/n) giggled, arm hooked with Art’s as they strolled through the town. 

Lights were wrapped around street lights, wreaths hanging on every other to accentuate the Christmas spirit. The clown looked down at her, watching as they reflected in her eyes as if it was the galaxy itself.

(Y/n) then suddenly gasped, looking up at a sign in front of them as muffled voices laughed and cheered in the distance. “Say, have we been to a bar together?” 

She looked up at Art and he shook his head with wide, curious eyes, eyebrows raised. She then nodded her head in the direction of the sign. 

“Let’s check it out.” Art grinned in anticipation, following her as she made her way to a nearby window and peered inside.

Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside the rather welcoming setting. Colored lights hung around the room as well as strings of pine and other miscellaneous decorations. She chuckled when she saw the extravagant yet simple Christmas tree tucked in the back with a snowman sitting beside it.

There was the bartender - a man - as well as another man sat at the bar and two women sat on top of another larger man wearing an iconic red suit and hat. 

As the two openly wasted women slid off of the makeshift Santa Claus and began making their way to the door, (Y/n) waved Art to come closer excitedly and pointed to the white-haired man. 

“Look!” She whispered eagerly, clutching at the camera around her neck. 

Art lifted a hand up over his eyes to spot him, his face contorting into surprise before shaking with child-like glee, his bag rustling behind him. He firmly snatched (Y/n)’s arm and she yelped as she was dragged around the building to the entrance. 

Art ran in front of her, the two women from before stumbling as he shoved them out of his way and gasped profanities at him. 

“Hey, watch out for that asshole!” 

“Yeah!” 

The women warned (Y/n) as they passed her, patting her shoulder as they did so. She simply rose an eyebrow at them with a questionable look, rolling her eyes before heading inside.  

“Friend of yours, Eddie?” The man dressed as Santa asked. 

“That is a fucking first.” The bartender replied as Art wobbled in excitement, and if he could speak, he would be speechless. 

Their eyes then fell upon the second figure that entered, relieved at her more normal appearance. The bartender stared at her, feeling more and more uneasy the longer he focused.  

“He with you?” Eddie asked her. (Y/n) simply hummed in agreement. As the group of men mumbled amongst each other, she brushed a hand against the clown’s arm as she passed him, looking back at him and chuckling with a shake of her head.

“Elvis treatment, hm?” (Y/n) told the Santa quietly before sitting on the stool beside him and watching Art with a smile. The man in the red suit gave her a side glance, then turned to look at Art. 

“Hello, hello…” He started warily with a small wave of his hand. Art nervously waved back at him, starstruck. “Hi, hi!” Santa chuckled, slipping into character. “Come on over, come on over! It’s fine.” He welcomed the clown who immediately ran over to him, dropping his bag beside (Y/n). 

Art flailed his hands at Santa, then over at a Santa mask hung on one of the restroom doors and back at him. 

“Yes, yes, yes, that’s - that’s me, that’s me! Guilty as charged!” Art fanned himself in excitement, leaning over to look at (Y/n) and pointing at him some more. She laughed and nodded her head, playing along with his act. 

“Hey Santa, it looks like you got a fan!” The third man sat on the opposite side of the man of the hour exclaimed. 

“What’s with the outfit, pal?” Eddie questioned judgmentally, (Y/n) eyeing him as she licked her lips, then looked back over at Art to see his reaction. 

“Yeah, did the circus come to town?” The third man chimed, but Art simply looked between them all. 

(Y/n) leaned over. “He just got done with a show. Very prideful, doesn’t like to break character in uniform.” Art nodded aggressively, pointing at her in agreement and they all hummed. 

Art suddenly reached out to Santa’s beard, tugging on it to test it. The man grunted at his pulling and flinched away from him, the clown pulling back in surprise. 

“Hey - buddy, watch it. That’s the real deal.” He laughed off as he recovered. “That’s my - that’s my beard! If Santa doesn’t have a real beard, he’s not a real Santa Claus.” He poked Art generously and the clown nodded, face representing understanding before he tapped his own head and pointed at Santa with a grin. 

“Hey fella,” Eddie interrupted with suspicion. “What’s in the bag?” 

Art tapped his fingers together mischievously and pointed at him, stepping over to rummage through his bag. “Here -“ (Y/n) hopped off and patted the stool. Art tipped his hat to her and lifted the bag onto it as (Y/n) looked between the men, wiggling her eyebrows at them with a closed smile. 

“Oh, he’s gonna show us. Hey, what do ya got?” Santa asked curiously as the clown sifted through its contents. “This is, uh - usually I’m the one who’s bringing the magical sack of toys!” He laughed as Art held up a finger, telling them one second. 

Art suddenly stopped, turning to look at Santa with a darker glint in his eyes. (Y/n) held her breath, heart racing as even she wasn’t sure what he was going to do next.

“What?” Santa asked, caught off guard.  

They all jumped when he pulled out a horn, face contorted into a widespread grin as he honked it playfully. 

Everyone seemed to laugh in relief as he continued to honk it, bringing it to Eddie’s face, then doing a little dance as he honked Jingle Bells. “Okay.” The bartender started. “That’s enough!” He held a hand out to the clown who quickly glared at him, but it turned back into a smile just as soon as it appeared and put away the horn, patting the bag. 

As the other three looked amongst each other with mild concern, (Y/n) and Art glanced at each other knowingly, the latter winking at her with a flash of a more sinister expression and licked his teeth. A shiver ran down her spine and it took everything in her not to cling to him in that moment, watching as he fixed himself into his cheerful smile once more and looked back at the group. 

“Have a seat, and uh, I’ll buy you a drink.” Santa told him. “Clowny! I’m starting to like you.” He complimented and Art half-sat on his thigh, the man grunting beneath him at his heavier weight despite his more lean appearance. 

Art reached over and fiddled with the ball of fuzz on Santa’s hat, then snatched it off of his head and placed it on his own. The man belted out with laughter as Art popped his hands out in a flair, as if to say look at me! 

He looked over at (Y/n) who smiled, but he caught the clouded look in her now more sultry gaze and wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Hey, Santa, it looks like you got some competition! It’s Clowny Claus!” Smokey, the third man, joked. 

“No!” Santa exclaimed. “Hey, you’re a natural! You look good.” He complimented and Art waved off his compliment bashfully. “But don’t get it dirty and remember to give it back! You don’t want to get on Santa’s naughty list.” He warned the clown who’s mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise, then shrugged mischievously with a playful grin to say oops. (Y/n) choked out a laugh, unable to stop herself.

“Hey, why don’t you tell Santa what you want for Christmas, little boy!” Smokey suggested. 

“Better hygiene?” Eddie dragged out in disgust. 

“Ever heard of dentures?” (Y/n) retorted, nearly snapping, and the bartender tossed her a look of disbelief. “Or paint?” She shrugged unapologetically as she shifted her weight where she stood between the bag and Art. “Anything used cosmetically.” 

She looked over at Art when she felt him tap her shoulder, giving her an ok symbol and a reassuring smile. She simply clicked her tongue and turned to face the group, forearm resting against the counter of the bar. 

Sensing the tension, Santa decided to step in. “All right, come on, let’s have a drink - uh - for everybody, okay? Come on!” Art clapped excitedly. 

“Got ID?” Eddie asked, growing tired of the clown’s act. 

“Oh - come on, he’s obviously old enough!” Art held up a finger, waving off Santa who tried to stand up for him and turned to look through his bag as (Y/n) watched curiously. “All right.”

“You think I’m gonna lose my license for these guys?” Eddie asked incredulously.

“He just doesn’t want to say he thinks we’re too pretty.” (Y/n) hummed as she smirked at the bartender, the other two men chuckling as he stood baffled before rolling his eyes. Art silently laughed to himself before pulling out a wallet, tossing it onto the counter in front of Eddie and wrapping an arm around (Y/n)’s waist. 

They watched as he pulled out two IDs from it and her eyes widened just a fraction in surprise. 

“You found mine?” She whispered to Art and he squinted down at her with a grin, nodding. 

“Maurice Jackson?” Eddie exasperated, eyeing Santa in disapproval. 

“What did you expect? John Doe?” (Y/n) bit, about to continue when the hand on her waist squeezed to cut her off. Art leaned in, blinking at him tauntingly. 

“Eddie, you’re killing me, can we just celebrate? Come on.” Santa pleaded, irritated with his friend’s behavior. Art slipped away from (Y/n), sitting back on top of Santa’s thigh.

“Fuck it, it’s Christmas.” Eddie finally gave in and pulled out a few shot glasses. 

“All right, let’s have a drink!” They watched as he began to pour the clear liquid into each glass, sliding one over to everyone. “To my new friend, huh?” They took their own shots in hand, raising them as Santa spoke. “To Maurice Jackson! Cheers!”

They all threw the alcohol back, (Y/n) coughing after she swallowed when Art suddenly spat his into Santa’s face. Smokey began to laugh while Santa rushed to wipe off his face and exclaimed. 

“What the fuck is the matter with you!” (Y/n) watched as Art smacked his lips in distaste, reaching over and wiping off a drop that hung from his lip, drying her finger on his suit. 

She turned back to the counter and leaned against it, grabbing the bottle of alcohol and winking at Eddie as he watched incredulously, pouring her own shot again and downing it as the commotion continued beside her. “You gonna pay for that?” He asked her. 

“Yeah, just keep my tab open.” She replied casually. 

She then heard the sound of something trickling onto the floor and simply stepped away, bringing the bottle and shot glass with her as she made her way to the back where a black bench was perched against the wall. 

She sat down and downed another shot, feeling warm and beginning to laugh as Eddie and Smokey held back Santa from clobbering the clown. Art looked back at her and slapped at his knees, bent over as he silently cackled.

Eddie suddenly snatched him by his suit and dragged him away, throwing him onto the bench next to (Y/n) and knocking over the bottle and shot glass. 

“My shots!” She pouted in disappointment, Art straightening up and adjusting his hat. As the men continued to yell in the background, Art looked over at her irritated expression as she crossed her arms and legs, locking eyes. 

Feeling buzzed, she smirked at him mischievously and they both looked back over at the three men who struggled to bring over his bag. 

Art jumped up and pointed at them in laughter, evading the bag as it was tossed at his feet. 

“I don’t want you to call the cops, I want you to call the fucking dry cleaners!” Art pointed at Santa and fanned his hand over his nose. He then began to rummage through his bag as they continued to bicker, (Y/n) eyeing the now empty bottle beside her. 

She grabbed it and stood, sauntering over to Art with her hands clasped onto the neck of the bottle in front of her innocently and he glanced over at her as he dug. “I want Eddie.” (Y/n) begged, eyes pleading. Art froze and thought for a moment before giving in, motioning for her to hurry as the man in question began to stomp his way over. 

(Y/n) giggled, practically skipping towards him with a smile before the thicker bottle was suddenly smashed over his head, knocking him onto the floor. 

“Oh fuck… oh fuck! Eddie!” Santa exclaimed. 

As she stood over the bartender, a gunshot was heard followed by another thud, Smokey collapsing next. Art watched the body fall, then looked up at Santa and stalked towards him, gun aimed with a frown.

(Y/n) focused on Eddie as he groaned, rolling to look up at her. Eyes wide, he could only stare as she slowly crouched down, the sharp edges of the broken bottle threatening as they pointed down at him. He felt as if he was melting into the ground, her unnatural gaze piercing through him intimidatingly.  

“Should’ve just called me pretty.” She commented sweetly before sending it into his face, spitting onto his face when she felt blood on her lip. She lifted her camera, snapping a few pictures before standing and doing the same with Smokey.

“It’s just me and you, remember? It’s just me and you!” (Y/n) heard Santa's plea and looked over at him and Art who still held the man at gunpoint. “We’re in the same business!” 

She began walking over to them, Santa’s eyes glancing over at her, her face now splattered with droplets of blood on one side. He shook with fear when she came to stand next to Art, arms snaking around his torso as her head leaned against his shoulder with a wicked expression. 

“We - we make… people happy.” He begged as a last resort. Art’s frown slowly morphed into a wide grin and (Y/n) hummed 

Santa began to laugh hysterically.  

Tag List: @hoe-for-daddywise @callsignwidow

[writing-intheundercroft]

draft: if I ever loved anyone else

Dropping a wee auror seb draft in celebration of The Night Shift's first birthday! Thank you for all who have stuck around and read my stories this past year <3

“Are you sure you’re comfy here?” 

Sebastian pats the straw mattress reassuringly. “I slept out here all the time when I was a kid.” He reminds you. “I can sleep here for one last night.”

It’s the night before your wedding, and Anne has all but put her foot down on the two of you sleeping together.  It’s tradition, she argued, to have the groom see the bride for the first time walking down the aisle.  It would be inappropriate for the two of you to share a bed, and you had to follow the proper traditions. 

Bit of a moot point, Ominis had teased, gesturing to your pregnant belly. He did not flinch with the shorter Sallow swatted at him, instead sporting a mischievous grin.  Clearly life spent with the twins had started to wear off on him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then,” you say, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  Sebastian caught your hand, pressing his own lips to your palm.  He tucks himself into the straw bed in the shed one last time, fluffing his pillow as you walk back to the doorway.  

“Hold on a moment,” Sebastian murmurs, prompting you to stop in the door frame. 

“What is it?” You ask, turning to face him. 

”I want to remember this,” Sebastian declares, clutching his heart. “You, the night before our wedding. The way the moonlight hits you and our baby.”

Your hand hovers over your dressing gown, resting atop the babe in your belly. “She’s restless,” you admit. “A bit too much excitement, I think.”

“You’re so sure it’s a girl,” Sebastian hums. 

“I’m right about a lot of things,” You say slyly, pulling your hair over one shoulder. 

Sebastian creases his eyes in a wink. “Like me?”

“Always about you,” the words tumble out of your mouth before he’s even done with his question.

“See you tomorrow then?” Sebastian says eagerly. “I’ll be the one in a kilt.”

”And I’ll be the blob in a white dress,” You say sarcastically, wagging your finger at him. “Don’t forget to shave, by the way.”

Sebastian pouts. “You don’t like it? I’ve been trying it out.”

”I want you to be clean shaven,” you demand. “I want to remember you the same way I always have.  You can grow those patchy whiskers of yours again after the wedding.”

”Ouch,” Sebastian gasps, clutching his white sleep shirt. “That hurt.” 

You just roll your eyes, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll see you down the aisle in a few hours.”

”I can’t wait,” Sebastian assures you.

He cannot.  Even with Anne’s wards, Sebastian slips his way through the window to sleep next to you in the old Feldcroft cottage, one hand protectively curled against your child.  He makes sure to sneak back out before Anne and Ominis wake, slinking back to the lumpy mattress in the shed.  And when he stands in the center of the field in his kilt, bouncing on his heels at the sight of you descending the hill in your white lace dress, his face is clean shaven.

[ducktoo]

Love is War

[Irene x Reader]

Note: I….friggin….love….Kaguya-sama so much. It’s just a funny show to watch and I’ve wanted to make something inspired by them. I had a lot of fun with this.

TW: a lot of second handed embarrassment

(She’s kinda like Kaguya)

You sit across from Irene in the empty student council room, the evening light filtering through the tall windows, casting long shadows that add a layer of mystery to the already tension-filled silence. Irene is flipping through some papers, meticulously reading, yet somehow ignoring your presence. Her focus, as always, is sharp, precise — but you've noticed the subtle glances, the way her lips curl ever so slightly when she thinks you aren’t watching.

You lean back, determined to stay calm. After all, if you show any interest first, it’s game over. Irene is the president, elegant and controlled, respected and even a little feared. And you, as her vice-president, know every one of her mannerisms by now, but this silent tug-of-war — this feeling she hasn’t just caught your eye but your heart too — has been going on for months. But you’d never give her the satisfaction of saying it first.

“So,” you say, nonchalantly, “another meeting… just us, huh?” You emphasize the “us,” making sure it sounds casual enough to not raise suspicion.

She raises an eyebrow, not even glancing your way. “You’re the vice president, remember?” She flips to the next page. “Or did you forget why you’re here?”

Ouch.

But you can play it cool. “Just making conversation,” you reply with a smirk. “Not everyone spends hours in silence like you do, President.”

She finally looks up, her eyes sharp, and for a second, you’re caught in her gaze. This is all part of the game, you remind yourself. Whoever slips first, whoever lets their guard down, loses.

“I don’t mind silence,” she says with a smirk of her own. “Unless you’re uncomfortable?”

“Oh, of course not,” you scoff, leaning forward. “If anything, I think you’re the one struggling to keep it together.”

She narrows her eyes, amused. “You think I’d give in that easily?”

“I didn't say anything,” you tease and put both of your hands up in innocence. Though your heart's pounding, every word a risky gamble. “You seem pretty close to breaking. Maybe you’re just waiting for me to say something first.”

Irene tilts her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s funny. You think you’ve got it all figured out.” She leans in, just close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “But if you’re so certain of yourself, why haven’t you said anything either?”

The challenge is clear, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you practically crackling. You’re staring at each other, each waiting for a sign of surrender, for that one misstep.

Just then, you notice her hand on the table, fingers lightly tapping. You reach out, instinctively, to still them, and in that moment, her eyes widen slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise betraying her usual composure. Your hands linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and you can feel your own face growing warm.

You pull away, breaking the silence with a chuckle, hoping to cover up your own slip. “Nice try,” you say. “But I’m not that easy to trick.”

She looks at you with an unreadable expression before her lips twitch into a soft smile — a genuine one, not her usual restrained, dignified expression. “I’ll admit, you’re a little harder to deal with than I thought,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a rush of victory. “So, you’re admitting I’m getting to you?”

Irene crosses her arms and raises a brow, leaning back in her chair as if sizing you up. “Well…since you’re so intent on making conversation, how about a game?”

You match her confident expression. “A game, huh? Alright, let’s hear it.”

She holds up her fingers, ticking off each word. “Twenty. Questions.”

The challenge is clear, and your eyes narrow as you smile. This is an opportunity. If you ask the right questions, you might get her to reveal something. “20 questions?"

“Yes,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself. “I’ll ask first.”

You nod, already strategizing your responses. There's no way she’ll get you to slip up.

“Alright,” Irene begins, her tone deceptively casual. “Are you… seeing anyone right now?”

You blink, but you manage a cool response. “No.”

She hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Interesting. Your turn.”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” you shoot back immediately, watching her for any reaction.

She raises an eyebrow, giving you a slow smile. “No. Next question: Do you have a… special someone in mind?”

Your face heats up, but you don’t let it show. You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “No,” you say, stretching the truth just a bit. “Do you?”

She smirks, but her answer is quick. “No.” There’s a spark in her eyes now, and you know she’s trying to rile you up. “Have you ever… spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about someone without realizing it?”

You narrow your eyes. She’s getting clever with these questions. “No,” you lie, feeling like she’s closing in. “But have you ever been caught staring at someone and couldn’t look away?”

Her smirk falters for a split second, but she recovers quickly. “No.”

The room feels charged with each back-and-forth. Neither of you wants to back down, and every question seems to dig just a little deeper, as if you’re both trying to pry open a box that’s already bursting at the seams.

Irene leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone?”

The question catches you off guard, but you’re not about to let her win. “No,” you reply, keeping your expression neutral. “Do you think about me?”

Her lips twitch, almost into a smile, and her answer is a soft, measured, “No.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re sure she’s lying. But you’ve both committed to the game, and there’s no turning back now.

You decide to turn up the heat. “Have you ever wondered… what it would be like if you and I were… something more?”

Irene’s eyes widen slightly, and for a fraction of a second, you see a crack in her calm exterior. “No,” she replies, but the tiny hesitation is enough to make your heart race.

“Are you sure?” you press, grinning.

“Yes,” she snaps, recovering her poise with a steely look. “Absolutely sure.”

You can’t help but laugh, sensing her annoyance. But she doesn’t let you revel in it for long.

“Do you get jealous if I talk to other people?” she asks, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“No,” you answer immediately, fighting the urge to look away.

Irene chuckles, clearly unimpressed. “Liar.”

Your cheeks warm, but you keep your gaze steady. “Sure, like you’re any better,” you say. “Have you ever gotten jealous seeing me with someone else?”

She narrows her eyes, leaning just a bit closer. “No.”

There’s a pause, tension thick in the air. Both of you know the series of no are getting less and less convincing, but neither of you is willing to back down.

Then, Irene clears her throat, her voice softer than before. “Alright, last question. And you have to be completely honest.”

You nod, bracing yourself. “Fine. Go ahead.”

She looks you dead in the eye, her expression unreadable. “Do you… feel anything special for me?”

Your heart pounds, the air between you both thick with unsaid words. You can feel every second stretching, every fiber of your being shouting to say something, anything other than—

“No.”

Irene’s eyes widen, and for a moment, her carefully guarded expression slips, replaced with something almost vulnerable. But she recovers, her smirk returning, even if it’s a little shaky.

“Good,” she says, trying to sound indifferent. “Neither do I.”

You both sit in silence, staring at each other, knowing you’ve just lied through your teeth and realizing that you’re both too stubborn to admit it.

But then Irene leans back, her smirk shifting into a resigned smile. “Well,” she says, standing up, her voice teasing, “it seems we’re both in the clear, then. No one’s losing anything here.”

You watch her walk toward the door, and before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder, her eyes holding yours for just a second too long.

“Good night,” she says softly, with a smile that tells you maybe, just maybe, she’s as frustrated as you are.

“Good night,” you manage to reply, watching her leave, and for the first time, wondering if this game is even worth playing if it means you’ll never actually win.

-

Back in your dorm room, you close the door and let out a long, frustrated groan. You’d spent the entire day locked in a ridiculous back-and-forth with Irene, trying to make her slip up, but "nooo", she had to be as stubborn as ever. You throw yourself onto your bed, grabbing your pillow and thrashing around in irritation.

“‘No,’” you mutter to yourself, mimicking Irene’s voice in the most exaggerated tone possible. “'No, I never get jealous, no, I never think about you, no, I have no feelings whatsoever!’” You yank the pillow over your face and yell into it, hoping it’ll somehow drain the frustration boiling over inside you.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD BAE JOOHYUN!”

-

Meanwhile, across campus, Irene is pacing in her room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Every step she takes sounds like she’s trying to stomp a hole into the floor. She mutters angrily to herself, face contorted in a mix of anger and — if she were to admit it — embarrassment.

“‘Do you think about me when you’re alone?’” she scoffs, doing her best impression of your voice, throwing her hands up in the air. “Absolutely not, why would I?” She frowns, blushing despite herself. “As if I’d be the first one to say anything anyway!”

She huffs and, in a rare moment of unchecked frustration, grabs her textbook off her desk and slams it down, a futile attempt to squash the annoyance bubbling inside her. She’s never felt so embarrassed — or so irritated that she can’t stop thinking about you.

“No,” she grumbles to herself again, as if the more times she says it, the more true it’ll become. “I am Bae Joohyun…why would I fall for you?”

-

Back in your room, you’ve started pacing now too, every nerve on edge. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your face twisted in frustration, and throw your hands up. “This is ridiculous! I don’t even care!” You stomp over to your desk, slamming your hands down like it might somehow snap you out of this bizarre Irene-fueled haze.

“Of all the people I had to like,” you grumble, throwing yourself back on your bed, arms flailing dramatically, “it had to be the one shortie who won’t admit anything!”

-

Meanwhile, Irene’s found herself in a similar scene, on her bed, legs kicking the mattress in frustration. “And that kid KNOWS what they’re doing,” she says, voice muffled by the pillow she’s now buried her face in. “Just sitting there with that smug little smile, asking all those RIDICULOUS questions like they didn’t care one bit!” She lets out a loud, frustrated sigh, tossing her pillow across the room.

It’s not even five minutes before she stands, determined to shake off the restless energy building inside her, and starts pacing her room again. Each step lands with heavy frustration. She mutters under her breath, trying to convince herself: “It’s not a big deal. This is… nothing. And they were obviously lying anyway, just to mess with me. I mean, why would they ask those things unless they were trying to make me crack?”

-

At the same time, you’re staring up at your ceiling, arms crossed, muttering to yourself. “She just has to be so stubborn,” you say, voice heavy with annoyance.

“Every single answer, every question — it’s like she’s actually trying to lose her mind on purpose!” You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head. “But no, she’s just too proud to admit she feels anything.”

-

In the end, both of you spend the next hour or so in almost synchronized frustration — you, rolling around on your bed, groaning loudly every few minutes, and Irene, sighing dramatically and flopping from one end of her bed to the other, trying not to think about how much it bothers her that you refuse to admit anything either.

It’s only when you both wear yourselves out from the mutual thrashing and muttering that a sense of calm settles, leaving you both sprawled on your beds, staring at the ceiling, each lost in thoughts of the other.

But even in the quiet, both of you have the same thought lingering, echoing annoyingly in your minds:

“Why can’t they just confess already?”

“Why can’t she just confess already?”

-

The next morning, you drag yourself into the student council room, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation clinging to your eyelids like cement. You glance at the clock — 8:15 AM. You’ve barely gotten any sleep, and it shows. Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair’s a mess, and every step feels like it’s being weighed down by the universe itself.

You slump into your usual chair, rubbing your face. The room is eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. No one else is here yet — except for Irene, sitting in her usual spot across from you, who seems just as disheveled as you feel. Her hair’s a little frizzy, and her posture is slumped like she might collapse at any moment.

You exchange a tired glance. Neither of you says anything. There's no point in it. It’s obvious you both didn’t sleep well, and it’s all because of that ridiculous game.

"Morning," Irene mutters, sounding less like herself than usual, her voice hoarse and low.

You nod. “Morning. Did you… sleep at all?”

She gives a small shake of her head, eyes slightly glazed. “…No.”

You groan. “Same.”

“I can tell,” she says, voice tinged with equal frustration.

You both fall into an exhausted silence, but just as the tension begins to build between you once again, the door creaks open. Seulgi, the treasurer, strides in, bouncing on her feet as usual, though today she seems extra chipper — like she’s somehow been recharged by a full night of sleep, which you both desperately lack.

She beams at you both. “Good morning, my higher ups! You two look like you barely survived the night.”

“Thanks for the observation,” you mutter sarcastically, leaning back in your chair, trying to ignore the painful throb in your skull.

Seulgi raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tense energy in the room. “You guys didn’t get any sleep, did you?” she teases, looking between the two of you. “Too busy scheming with each other, huh?”

Irene gives Seulgi a deadpan stare. “We don’t need your commentary, Kang Seulgi.”

Seulgi shrugs, unfazed. “Okay, okay, no need to get defensive. You two need a distraction.”

With that, Seulgi pulls a small notepad from her bag, flipping it open with dramatic flair. “Let’s play Would You Rather,” she announces, practically jumping into the chair beside Irene.

You blink at her, too exhausted to even care about the idea of playing another game. But Seulgi’s already too deep into her plans to let you escape.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi starts, voice rising in enthusiasm, “have the ability to read anyone’s mind, but only while they’re eating something, or be able to talk to animals, but only in a language they don’t understand?”

You glance at Irene, already half-suspecting she’s not going to entertain this nonsense, but to your surprise, she lets out a small sigh and leans in, trying to humor Seulgi. “The animals. No contest.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I could ask a certain bear to stop stealing my snacks,” Irene mutters, eyes narrowing like she’s speaking from personal experience.

"I know nothing" Seulgi whistled and looked away, feigning ignorance.

You chuckle, despite yourself, because somehow that seems oddly relatable. But Seulgi’s not done yet.

“Okay, next one!” Seulgi says, flipping her page. “Would you rather always know when someone’s lying, but it makes you physically ill, or never know when someone’s lying, but it makes you constantly question everything?”

Irene shoots you a look, probably knowing where this is going. You tap your chin dramatically.

“I’ll go with the first one,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I already get physically ill just dealing with you.”

Irene doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m starting to think you might be lying about that,” she retorts, a small grin playing at the corner of her mouth.

Seulgi, clearly loving this back-and-forth, just grins wider. “Alright, now for the real fun one…”

You both exchange a look of dread.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi pauses for dramatic effect, “have to sing every time you want to communicate, but only in opera, or be unable to speak at all and only express yourself through interpretive dance?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, processing the absurdity of the question. Then, without missing a beat, Irene responds, deadpan, “I’d go with interpretive dance. At least it’s not opera.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “You would dance? For everything? For your class presentations?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it would be easier than singing opera in front of the entire school.”

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “I’d rather sing opera. It’s at least... dignified.”

Seulgi looks between the two of you, laughing to herself as if she’s witnessing the world's most ridiculous standoff. “Okay, okay, one last one. Would you rather accidentally confess your feelings to the entire school, but the person you like doesn’t hear, or have to live your life with a giant embarrassing secret that no one knows except you?”

You freeze. Irene’s gaze flicks to yours, and for a brief, horrifying moment, it feels like the entire world has just turned its spotlight on you both.

Seulgi’s watching, clearly loving the discomfort she’s causing.

“I—” you start, but then you hesitate. “I’d rather have the secret,” you say quickly, then add, “I mean, I don’t want to confess in front of everyone!”

Irene laughs — a soft, almost bitter laugh — and answers quickly, “I’d pick the same thing. Secrets are easier to deal with than... that.”

You both stare at each other, and for once, the silence between you doesn’t feel as tense as before. In fact, it’s almost like... you’ve just admitted something without even trying.

But Seulgi, ever the expert at reading the room, lets out a dramatic sigh. “You two are impossible,” she says, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “But at least we had fun.”

Irene and you exchange a glance. Neither of you says anything, but the hint of something unspoken lingers in the air. Something that wasn’t quite said in the game, but was definitely felt.

“You know,” you mutter, standing up and stretching, “next time, we’re just playing chess.”

Seulgi grins, already plotting her next absurd question. “You got it. But just so you know,” she winks, “I’m totally adding opera to the rules.”

Irene shoots you a look as if to say, See? This is your fault.

And for once, you can’t help but laugh.

-

A few months pass, and life in the student council room has somehow become a bizarre, ongoing comedy show. You and Irene continue your ridiculous push-and-pull game, each day a new round of Who Will Crack First?. Neither of you has budged an inch, and yet neither of you has let up on the passive-aggressive scheming either.

It’s as if you’re both living in some weird, never-ending loop of “will they, won’t they” — and it’s driving everyone around you absolutely mad.

Seulgi, who’s practically an expert at this point in navigating the absurdity of your interactions, has given up trying to intervene. She now finds it hilarious, often leaning back in her chair with a smug smile as she watches the two of you exchange cryptic looks and challenge each other with passive-aggressive “Would You Rather” questions.

One particularly awful morning, Irene walks in wearing her usual perfectly put-together look — except today, her blazer is slightly askew, her hair a little more chaotic than usual. She’s clearly been running on no sleep, but as always, she gives you a pointed, unamused look when you glance at her.

“Not today,” she mutters, sounding exhausted, and collapses into her chair with a sigh.

You blink. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m tired of you,” she snaps back, without hesitation.

You sit up straighter, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh? So you admit it now?”

Her head whips to face you. “I didn’t admit anything, you idiot.”

“Right, right. Of course not.” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, trying to play it cool, but inside you can feel a small victory bubbling up.

Yes, you’re getting to her. Keep going.

Before you can continue your “I’m always right” victory lap in your mind, Seulgi enters, holding an envelope in her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!” Seulgi greets, sliding into her chair and tossing the envelope onto the desk in front of you. “Got this for you,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself.

You blink at it. “What’s this?”

Seulgi leans forward, grinning. “Well, someone (ahem, our vice-president) just got accepted for the student exchange program. With a full scholarship, no less.”

You freeze, staring at the envelope as if it might suddenly burst into flames. It takes a moment for the words to fully process in your tired brain, but when they do — you can’t help but feel a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Wait… you’re kidding,” you mutter, flipping the envelope open. Sure enough, it’s real. You’ve been accepted into the program — and with a scholarship at that. You can barely wrap your head around it, the magnitude of it overwhelming. A chance to study abroad? This is huge.

"I MADE IT MOM!!!" You shouted, as loud as you just won a well fought war.

Irene, however, is not as happy for you. She glares at the envelope, as though it’s personally offended her. “Congratulations,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You grin, almost smugly. “Thanks, Pres. I’m going to study abroad! How cool is that?”

“Right, so you’ll be gone for how long?” Irene’s voice has a sharp edge to it, and you know instantly that something’s bothering her.

“I’m not sure,” you say, waving it off, still too distracted by the possibility of it all. “Maybe six months? Maybe more. It’s exciting, right?”

Irene doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back in her chair, arms crossed, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Her lips are pressed together like she’s holding something in.

“You know,” you say, enjoying the rare moment of feeling like you actually have the upper hand, “maybe you should congratulate me properly. This is a big deal.”

She gives you a sharp look. “I don’t congratulate people who act like they’re already the best at everything.”

“Oh, please,” you laugh, “that’s not even true. We both know you’re just upset that you won’t get to have your daily dose of me tormenting you.”

Irene narrows her eyes, leaning forward like she’s about to bite back with something absolutely scathing. But instead, she just sighs. “Fine. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do great. Now, I’ll just go back to pretending you aren’t about to abandon me for six months.”

You blink, caught off guard by her sudden change in attitude. It’s almost like she’s… jealous? No, that can’t be right.

“Wait,” you say, your voice sounding strangely unsure, “you’re mad?”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you're the dumbest person alive. “What do you think, Einstein?”

“Are you actually mad that I’m going abroad?” You almost can’t believe you’re asking. This is a new level of absurdity. She’s always acted like she doesn’t care about anything — least of all you.

Her response comes in the form of a heavy sigh, followed by her leaning back again with a dramatic thud into her chair. “I just don’t get it,” she mutters, staring at the ceiling like it’s the most tragic thing in the world. “One moment you’re here, annoying the hell out of me, and then poof — off to some other country like it’s no big deal.”

“Is that jealousy?” you ask, incredulous. “Pres, is that—”

“No!” She snaps immediately. “I’m just annoyed that you’ve been torturing me for months, and now you’re going to vanish, leaving me alone with Seulgi’s stupid games and that.”

You look at Seulgi, who’s grinning at the back-and-forth with a cup of coffee in her hand like she’s watching a reality TV show unfold before her. “I’m just here for the drama,” Seulgi mumbles under her breath, casually sipping her coffee.

“See?” Irene gestures to Seulgi. “I’m stuck here with this.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m just as confused as you are,” you joke, tapping the envelope on the table, “since it looks like I’m leaving you here to suffer alone with your secrets.”

Irene glares at you. “Stop talking about my secrets. It’s not like you even have any.”

You grin, sensing that you’ve touched a nerve. “Oh, I do, don’t worry. Just waiting for you to—”

“Stop talking.” Irene snaps, her voice so sharp it’s almost a threat.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but you don’t know whether to laugh or just keep pushing her buttons. It’s getting harder and harder to tell if she’s frustrated because of your “secret” or if it’s just the ever-present game you two have been playing for months.

Seulgi, clearly sensing the climax of your endless drama, looks between you both with a smirk. “You two are ridiculous,” she says, sipping her coffee and savoring the war, like a general on the side watching her neighbouring countries fight.

And as always, you and Irene stay locked in your little game — still stubborn, still not admitting anything, but both of you a tiny bit more frustrated than before. You can’t help but laugh, even though you’re not quite sure whether it’s from the excitement of the exchange program or the absurdity of your constant back-and-forth with Irene.

One thing’s for sure — you may be leaving soon, but the game will never truly end.

-

The days leading up to your final day at school felt like a drawn-out episode of Who Will Break First?.

The tension between you and Irene was palpable, like two magnets trying to repel each other while secretly waiting for the other to snap. It was absurd, and yet, you couldn’t help but be thrilled by the idea of ending this ridiculous game once and for all.

The exchange program was looming on the horizon, and you were determined to win this war — no more games, no more indirect jabs. One of you was going to finally confess, and it would be grand. You weren’t just going to do it quietly or casually.

Oh no. You had bigger plans.

Way bigger plans.

You could practically feel the dramatic music building in your head as you sat in the student council room, staring at the whiteboard, mapping out your elaborate scheme. It had to be perfect, a moment so spectacular that Irene would have no choice but to confess. You had one chance, and it had to be memorable.

The idea? A scavenger hunt.

But not just any scavenger hunt. A scavenger hunt for the heart.

“How can I make it even more dramatic?” you muttered to yourself, looking over your ridiculous list of clues and challenges. Every challenge would lead Irene closer to her inevitable fate — confessing her feelings, of course. But it couldn’t be too obvious. You had to make it like a game, because she would never confess otherwise. She was too proud.

You could already hear the sound of her internal monologue: I can’t let them get away with this. I’ll show them I’m not some softy.

Little did she know, you were about to turn this into the most obnoxiously grand gesture ever.

The next day, you casually walk into the student council room, where Irene is sitting at her desk, looking as stoic as usual. Her hair is perfect (obviously), and she’s in the middle of filling out some form that looks like it was written in some ancient bureaucratic language.

“Good morning, Pres.” you say nonchalantly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

She barely glances up at you, just giving a quick nod. “Morning,” she mutters, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Perfect. The stage was set.

“You ready for the game today?” you ask casually, leaning over to get a peek at her papers.

Her eyebrow twitches slightly. “What game?”

“The game,” you say dramatically, “The scavenger hunt. The ultimate scavenger hunt.”

Irene freezes. “What?”

You grin, feeling the thrill of your scheme starting to take effect. “It’s simple, really. I’ve set up a series of clues around the campus. Each one will lead you to the next, until you finally reach your destination. And guess what? You’re the only one who can participate. No one else is allowed.”

Irene stares at you as if you just suggested she run a marathon in high heels. “A scavenger hunt? Are you serious?”

“Yes.” You give her an exaggeratedly dramatic nod. “You’re going to love it. Each clue is going to lead you to a place that’s important to us. You’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

She blinks, clearly confused. “And what’s the point of this ridiculous hunt?”

“The point is,” you say, leaning in like you’re about to share the world’s greatest secret, “by the end of it, you’ll finally admit that you can’t stand it anymore and you will…”

You paused for a moment “…confess your feelings for me.”

Irene’s face is completely deadpan. “You’re out of your mind.”

But she’s intrigued. You can tell.

“Okay, okay. I’ll bite. Where do I start?” Irene asks, crossing her arms with that same defiant, no-nonsense look that always drives you insane.

You hand her the first clue, which is written in ridiculously dramatic handwriting. “Go to the place where it all started,” you say, practically bouncing in your chair, “You know, where we first met. Good luck.”

Irene glares at you for a second before unfolding the note. Her eyes scan it quickly. She’s already halfway out of her seat when she mutters, “This is so stupid.”

And off she goes.

What she doesn’t realize is that you’ve set up each clue in the most bizarre and over-the-top way possible.

The first stop is the fountain near the school entrance. But it’s not just a simple clue — oh no. You’ve surrounded the fountain with floating balloons that spell out “LOVE,” because you’re subtle like that. Next to the fountain, there’s a big, obnoxious banner that says, “First step to confessing your feelings: stop running away from the truth.”

When Irene arrives, she looks at it, rolls her eyes so hard you think they might get stuck, but follows the instructions anyway.

“Ridiculous,” she mutters, lifting the balloon with one hand and searching for the next clue.

Next, the clue leads her to the library — but not just any section of the library. It’s the aisle where you first bumped into her accidentally (totally not planned) on that fateful day. The shelf is stacked with books on love and confession. (Of course, you also made sure the most embarrassing ones were in plain sight.)

By the time she reaches the next clue, which is hidden inside a cookie jar in the student lounge, she’s had enough. “This is the worst thing you’ve ever done,” she says under her breath as she rips open the paper and immediately glares at the next clue.

It’s just one word: Confess.

Irene stares at the note for a solid minute, as though she’s trying to will it to self-destruct. “This is… absurd.”

She’s so close now. You’re practically jumping out of your seat, grinning so wide you’re certain she can hear the smugness radiating off you.

The final stop is, of course, the student council room. You’ve cleared out all the other council members and arranged the room like an oddly romantic restaurant, complete with candles (yes, real candles, because you’re extra) and a giant cardboard cutout of the two of you from a school event that she’ll definitely recognize.

“I swear to god, if you’ve done anything worse than this, I’ll…” Irene trails off as she steps into the room, eyes widening at the display.

You cross your arms. “Well?”

“Are you really going to make me do this?” she asks, her voice dangerously calm.

You grin, barely containing your excitement. “I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

Irene looks at you, deadpan as usual. “You’re impossible.”

You wait, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

She doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches for a few seconds, and just when you think she’s going to snap — she sighs. “Fine.”

She’s this close.

She takes a deep breath, looking you straight in the eye, and says in the most dramatically deadpan voice possible:

“I hate you.”

And just like that, you snap.

“WHAT?!”

“I said I hate you.” Irene smiles smugly, enjoying every second of your frustration. “But I think you’re kind of an idiot. And I’m sort of impressed by your sheer lack of self-awareness. So, confession done.”

You stand there, utterly flabbergasted.

“That’s not a confession!” you shout.

“I didn’t say it was a good one,” Irene retorts, crossing her arms. “But at least I win.”

And with that, you both realize — you’ve just played yourselves.

As Irene starts walking away, her smug expression plastered on her face, you stand there, still stunned, your heart hammering in your chest. You had come so close to victory — and then she just dropped the bomb on you like it was nothing.

I hate you.

What kind of confession was that? Sure, it was dramatic, but it was barely even close to what you had in mind!

But something in your chest tightens. You can’t let this end like this. No way. You won’t let her get away with this. Not when you’re so close

You take one step forward. Then another. You’re walking after her now, and you can feel the heat rising in your face as you approach. The whole scene plays out like a movie, but not the cool action kind of movie. No, this is a slow-motion trainwreck happening in real time.

“I—” You stop yourself. What the hell am I doing?

Irene turns around, still smirking as if she just hit you with the world’s greatest comeback. “What? Did you come to call me an idiot again?”

“No! I mean—YES, but—” You flounder, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you still have. She raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you mutter, realizing that at this point, the only way to salvage your pride is to act like you meant this all along.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the cringe crawl up your spine. “I—I think I like you. A lot.”

You don’t stop there. No. That would be too easy.

“Bae Joohyun, I think... I think I’ve liked you for a long time, and... and this whole thing, the games, the scavenger hunts, the balloons... it’s been ridiculous and stupid and—”

Your voice cracks, and you internally scream. This is so embarrassing. Why did I think this would work against the Ice Queen?

Irene just stands there, her smirk faltering for the first time. “Wait—are you—”

“Yes! I—yes! I like you, okay?” you blurt out, and then immediately want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. “Like, really like you. More than I can even explain. And maybe I don’t always show it, and maybe I’m not the best at this, but I’ve spent so long trying to... uh... win this stupid confession game, and now I’m realizing that I... don’t care about that anymore. I just want you to know that I like you—like, like you—and I’m tired of pretending I don’t!”

There’s a moment of silence. You stand there, your face glowing with humiliation, hands clenched at your sides, waiting for Irene to react. You almost can’t bear to look at her. You can feel the awkwardness radiating between you like a thick cloud, and it’s so heavy that it might as well be an actual physical presence.

Irene doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at you with wide eyes. Then she opens her mouth, and you hold your breath, half-expecting her to laugh in your face or walk away.

Instead, she says, “...Are you... done?”

You blink rapidly, still trying to process her words. “What?”

“Are you done?” she repeats, her voice more amused than anything else. “Because that was about the most painfully awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. I mean, are you seriously this bad at confessing?”

Your face turns bright red, and you immediately want to crawl under a desk and live there for the rest of eternity. “I—No! I mean... Yes, I am. I just... I don’t know how to do this! It’s like every time I try, I keep making it worse, and now I’m... I’m...”

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m just going to shut up now.”

Irene crosses her arms, watching you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “So, what exactly are you expecting from me now? A confession back? Do you want me to one-up you with some dramatic gesture too?”

The secondhand embarrassment is reaching a point where you feel like you might die from sheer awkwardness. “I—”

“Well, guess what?” she interrupts, her expression softening just slightly. “You’re not the only one who’s bad at confessing, you know.” She pauses, letting the words sink in. “I’m just better at pretending I don’t care.”

Your eyes widen. Wait. What?

“You’ve been so obvious for so long. But you’re... you’re a mess,” she says, voice dropping into something a little more serious now. “And I didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. I didn’t want to admit it either.”

Your brain short-circuits. “Wait, so... you—”

She gives a dramatic sigh and steps toward you. “I’m just saying,” she continues, “You’re such an idiot. And I can’t believe it took this long for you to get a clue.”

And then, out of nowhere, she leans forward and kisses you.

For a moment, everything stops. Your brain ceases to function as you try to process what just happened.

It takes about five seconds before you realize that you’ve been kissed, and another five seconds to realize that you’re staring at her wide-eyed, as if this were the most confusing thing to ever happen to you. But you’re also feeling like you might pass out from sheer shock.

As Irene pulls away from the kiss, you’re still standing there, completely shell-shocked. Your head is spinning, the words in your mind tumbling over each other, and your whole body is shaking like a leaf. You can’t believe what just happened — you’d been playing this ridiculous back-and-forth for so long, and now it was finally over.

Sort of.

Irene looks entirely too smug for someone who just outplayed you at your own game. “Well, that was definitely a moment, wasn’t it?”

Your mouth opens and closes, but you’re too dumbfounded to say anything remotely intelligent. You can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your brain still processing the fact that she kissed you like it was some kind of casual Tuesday.

“Um... can I... can I just...?” you trail off, desperately trying to regain your composure, but it’s like trying to catch a greased pig.

Irene, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected, smirking as she watches you fumble. “What? Are you still processing it, or...?”

But before you can even think of a response, you hear it.

A very loud click.

Both you and Irene freeze at the sound, and the two of you turn towards the source of the noise. And there, standing a few feet away, is Seulgi — grinning like a cat who just got into the cream.

“Oh, this is rich,” Seulgi says, holding up her phone. “Vice president, you really should’ve told me you were planning on doing a ‘confession’ scene. I thought I was going to have to orchestrate this myself, but lucky for me, I had a feeling something like this would go down.”

“No...” you mutter, feeling the blood drain from your face. “No, no, no. Did you seriously just—?”

“Oh, you bet I did,” Seulgi replies with a grin so wide it should be illegal. She’s clearly enjoying every second of this. “You two have been at this for months. I was just waiting for the moment when one of you would finally break. And I caught it all on video!”

You can feel the panic rising in your chest. “Kang Seulgi, no! You—You can’t—”

She takes a few steps closer, completely unfazed by your distress. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t post it... yet,” she says. “But let’s just say I also have some... interesting footage that could influence your future decisions.”

“Seulgi, you wouldn’t,” Irene warns, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Oh, I would,” Seulgi chirps, tapping away on her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. “I have all the juicy bits. You two were so painfully obvious, I might just have enough material for a whole documentary about your embarrassing little love war.”

(She said the title card! Don’t sue me thank you)

You turn to Irene, a look of pure despair on your face. “Please tell me this is not happening.”

“I swear to God, Seulgi, if you even think about blackmailing us...” Irene starts, but then her eyes flicker to the phone in Seulgi’s hand. She hesitates, realizing there’s really no way to undo this.

“Oh, I’m just kidding,” Seulgi says suddenly, and you almost collapse in relief, but then she adds, “Mostly.”

“What do you mean, mostly?” you ask, now suspicious.

Seulgi just looks between the two of you, her grin only growing wider. “Well, I was going to use this footage to make you two suffer with some embarrassing compilation videos... but honestly? It’s more fun to watch you both squirm. You’re so pathetically obvious, it’s hilarious.”

You groan and throw your hands up in exasperation. “I can’t believe this. Of course, Seulgi would have been lurking in the shadows, ready to capture every moment.”

Irene, meanwhile, takes a deep breath and glances at the phone again, looking more irritated than ever. “You better not show this to anyone. Or I will make your life a living nightmare.”

“Oh please,” Seulgi says, tapping the screen. “I’m just going to enjoy watching you two suffer in peace for now. But you know, if you’re ever interested in... making a deal... I’m all ears.”

Irene crosses her arms, giving Seulgi a death glare. “You really want to start blackmailing THE president and vice president of the student council? Don’t forget, I have connections.”

Seulgi raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off... for now. But let’s just say, I’ll be keeping my eyes open. You two are so obvious.”

As Seulgi walks away, still chuckling to herself, you and Irene stand there, completely defeated.

You’re both speechless.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter again, this time to Irene, who’s clearly just as done with the situation as you are. “I swear, Seulgi is too much.”

Irene lets out a long sigh and places a hand over her face, as if trying to hide her sheer embarrassment. “This is never going to be over, is it?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I’m stuck with this for life.”

“I don’t think I can show my face at school tomorrow,” Irene admits, finally letting out a little laugh despite herself.

“Same,” you reply, feeling the humiliation deep in your bones. “I’m going to pretend I’m sick. I’ll fake an injury. I’ll fake... I don’t know, something.”

“You should,” Irene agrees, “and I’ll be right there with you. The entire school will know about our ‘confession’ before lunch.”

There’s a brief silence between you both, and then, at the same time, you both erupt into groans of frustration and turned away from each other.

“This is why I hate you.”

“This is why I hate you,” Irene replies, her voice thick with secondhand embarrassment.

And there it is — the grand culmination of months of tension, teasing, and awkward games. And it ended up with you both being caught on video, standing like two idiots while Seulgi secretly enjoyed every moment of it.

Today’s result: Both lost (even with a fcking kiss)

-

The week after you left for the exchange program felt like a blur for you — the excitement, the new environment, and the unfamiliar routines made everything feel like a whirlwind.

But back at school, Irene was in a much different place.

Every day, Seulgi would come to school with a new glint in her eyes, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, and a phone hidden somewhere on her person. She wasn’t as sneaky as she thought; Irene could spot her from a mile away, and each time, she’d smirk to herself.

“I swear, you’re enjoying this way too much, Bae Joohyun” Irene would mutter, though the grin never left her face.

And why wouldn’t she? Each time Seulgi presented her with another batch of pictures — snapshots from the infamous day of the confession — Irene’s heart would flutter in the most embarrassing way.

There was the one of you, mid-sentence, as you tried to pull off your grand declaration. Your face was a perfect mix of awkwardness and desperation, eyes wide as you blurted out the confession.

The best part? The expression on your face was so utterly panicked that it made Irene burst into a fit of giggles every time she looked at it.

Then there was the one of you standing there, your hands raised in dramatic surrender, as Seulgi’s camera flashed. Your face was a blend of mortification and determination. Irene would often catch herself replaying that moment in her head — how precious you looked, fighting so hard for that confession you never thought you’d be able to get out.

But the one that made her giddy the most was a candid shot — one taken right after the kiss. It wasn’t a perfect picture by any means, but there you were, lips still pink from the kiss, standing in complete shock as Irene pulled away with that smug smile plastered across her face. You looked like you’d just been struck by lightning…

…and Irene was absolutely in love with the image.

Every time she glanced at it, she could feel the warmth in her chest, the little skip in her heartbeat.

But the real kicker? The deal she made with Seulgi.

“If you promise to keep these between us... and not use them as leverage against me,” Irene had said one day, as Seulgi grinned with her phone in hand, “then maybe... just maybe... you’ll get something in return.”

Seulgi had raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are we talking about here?”

Irene’s eyes glinted mischievously. “The ‘one’ photo you really want. The one where I’m looking adorably happy in front of that dork. I’ll give it to you... for a price.”

“Deal,” Seulgi said instantly, knowing exactly which picture Irene was talking about — the one of her, holding her phone with a soft smile, staring at all the pictures of you. The one where the subtle joy in her eyes was enough to make Seulgi’s heart melt.

And that, of course, meant that Irene had the perfect little “deal” in her pocket. She now had the ultimate keepsake of her vice president and all those memories of their relationship’s unspoken history — one that no one else would ever know about. Not just the hilarious moments, the embarrassment, or even the kiss itself, but the sweetness of it all — tucked away in her phone, a secret only for her to see.

The first time you sent her a message after you’d arrived at your exchange program, she stared at her phone for a moment longer than necessary, then quickly typed back:

“I miss you already. Do you remember that day?”

She hit send before she could overthink it. Almost immediately, she received a reply.

“Of course I do, Joohyun.” you texted. “How could I forget? My life will forever be haunted by that day, thanks to Seulgi.”

Irene couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m not letting you forget. I’ll be keeping all the best pictures. After all, I did get the perfect shot,” she teased, her fingers flying over her phone.

“You wouldn’t dare...” you wrote back, but Irene could tell you were joking. Your words were playful, the tone light.

“I would,” she replied, sending a winky face along with the message. She then paused, allowing herself to enjoy the quiet connection between you two.

As Irene walked through the campus, heading toward the student council room, she felt oddly content. Despite the distance between you now, despite the teasing and the games and the back-and-forth, there was this undeniable warmth in her chest. She might have started this war thinking she’d win, but now that it was over, she realized she had already won.

You.

Her vice president. The one who had made her life absolutely ridiculous and frustrating, but also the one who had somehow captured her heart in the most unexpected of ways.

Irene flipped through the pictures once more (and the candid shot that she had set as her lock screen)— the ones of you two together — and her smile softened. It was official.

She was never letting go of this.

As she walked into the council room, still holding her phone close to her chest, Seulgi shot her a knowing look. “So, when are you going to send them all the photos and just admit you’re head over heels for your vice president?”

“Soon,” Irene said, her voice thick with happiness, as she swiped through the next batch of pictures. “Just... one more time. I want to keep this to myself for a little longer..”

Seulgi rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. “You really are hopeless. It sounds more like you definitely lost this war, isn't it?”

“…maybe.” Irene admitted, unable to stop herself from smiling widely. “But I’m hopelessly in love.”

And with that, she tucked her phone away, heart full of giddy excitement, ready to face whatever came next. After all, she had time. The war might have ended, but this?

This was just the beginning.

(cue the outro)