#and they both pine for half a season <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[hotshotsxyz]

hope for the future (got me on my knees)

(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time cw: blood (like. a lot)

Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—

He’s—

God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.

It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—

He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.

“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—

Oh.

He’s the one screaming.

Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.

He—

“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”

No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.

It’s—

It’s—

Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.

“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.

“Diaz, stop!”

He can’t. He won’t.

“You have to let them help him.”

They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.

“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.

A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?

Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.

Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.

“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”

He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—

His—

Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.

“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”

He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.

The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.

Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.

“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.

He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.

“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.

She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—

“I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.

The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.

The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.

As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.

All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.

“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.

No.

No.

No.

He doesn’t answer.

…

There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.

Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.

“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“

Bobby was there when—

He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.

“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.

“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.

Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”

“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.

“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.

“I love him,” Eddie croaks.

Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.

One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.

“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.

The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.

“No update,” she says quietly.

She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.

“Eddie?” she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”

What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.

A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?

No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.

Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?

“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”

He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.

When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.

“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.

He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.

“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”

Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.

He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.

“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”

Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.

He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.

“For what?” she asks shakily.

“I should’ve— I didn’t—“

“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eddie swallows harshly.

“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”

He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—

He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.

Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.

…

“Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.

The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.

“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.

Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.

The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.

“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.

Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”

Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.

“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.

…

He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.

“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.

Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.

“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”

Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”

Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.

“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.

“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.

Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.

“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.

Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.

“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”

“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.

Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”

“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”

“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.

“Good answer,” Maddie says.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”

“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”

“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”

“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”

[starryneitz]

There are two types of western cartoon fans

The Steven Universe fans who quietly overtime accepted that we will never know what was in the treasure chest in Lion's mane, even though Sugar has said that if people were nice about it they will continue the series.

And then there's Gravity Falls fans who are going apeshit every time they see a triangle, screaming about how they want a season 3 and theorizing that we will get it....even though Hirsch keeps saying he ended the show after season 2 specifically because he didn't want it to drag on and be altered from his original vision.

[elikajinnie]

Hi love 🩷 could you do prompts 3 and 9 with niki? lots of love to you, pretty 🎀🫧

P: Nishimura Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Minor Angst, Teasing, Established Relationship

Synopsis: Dating your best friend’s brother was never part of the plan—but falling for Ni-ki happened so naturally that keeping it a secret felt like the only option. You both knew the truth could change everything, so instead, you hid in plain sight. But as guilt starts creeping in, it becomes harder to pretend and now the weight of the lie strains your relationship.

a/n: ramadan mubarak to my muslim friends <3

3. "You’re playing with fire, and I’m willing to burn." 9. "Tell me you want me, and I’ll make sure you never doubt it again."

"Please be my girlfriend."

Those were the words Ni-ki had nervously uttered to you months ago when his sister—your best friend—had left the living room to get ready for a party you were both going to. It had been spontaneous, the kind of confession that seemed to slip out before he could stop himself. His face had been flushed, his hands fidgeting in his lap, and for a moment, he looked so ready to be rejected that it almost hurt to see.

But you had said yes.

And just like that, he had brightened up, his expression shifting from pure anxiety to something so radiant it almost felt unreal. Like a flower finally blooming after waiting for the right season. After years of pining and stolen glances that neither of you had dared to acknowledge, the feelings had been reciprocated all along. You were his girlfriend. He was your boyfriend.

Everything should have been perfect.

But there was one problem.

One small mishap.

His sister.

So you and Ni-ki never told her.

It wasn’t like you had planned to hide it. It just... happened. There was always something, some reason that seemed too small at the time to mention. Neither of you were ready for her reaction, for the inevitable questions, the teasing that would come, and, most of all, the worry you both knew would bubble up. She was your best friend, after all, and her protective nature would kick in the moment she found out her brother was no longer just little Ni-ki but your boyfriend.

But now, weeks had passed. And still, you hadn’t said a word.

Every time she asked about your plans—Ni-ki was there, of course. Always a few steps behind, smiling like the two of you shared some kind of inside joke. But neither of you ever mentioned the fact that you were dating, and that silence between the three of you had started to feel heavier.

It was getting harder to keep up the charade. You would catch Ni-ki’s gaze from across the room, and he would give you that familiar, half-smile that made your heart flutter, but you both knew what you were doing.

And as time passed, you wondered if it was getting too late to tell her.

You tried convincing yourself that it wasn’t that bad. It shouldn’t be so bad. After all, Ni-ki was a wonderful boyfriend. With you, he was soft, sweet, and even cuddly—a far cry from the cool, nonchalant side he showed the rest of the world, the one his sister loved to tease him about. In the past, his sister would drag you into their playful teasing, making fun of Ni-ki's quirks and how much he secretly cared about everything, despite pretending not to.

And usually, when she did try to drag you into the teasing, you would brush it off with a laugh, a playful smile, pretending it didn’t bother you. But ever since you and Ni-ki had become a couple, things had shifted. Now, you found yourself joining in, teasing him right alongside her, sharing that familiar banter, and it felt... good.

But you knew that by now, he would be quietly plotting his revenge for after. You could see it in his eyes, the glint that meant he would get you back for all the teasing. And when you were alone, he always did—without fail. His sweet, cuddly side would vanish, replaced by a mischievous smirk, and you'd end up laughing (or complaining) as he retaliated in the most ridiculous, often playful, ways.

You loved that side of him.

When you were all younger, Ni-ki would always act like you had girl cooties or something. He would bolt the moment his sister and you came together, locking himself in his bedroom like you were some sort of threat. It became a routine, almost a game, and you would just roll your eyes, laughing with his sister about how dramatic he was. But there was something almost endearing about it.

Then, as soon as his sister would leave the room to grab you both some snacks, Ni-ki would sneak back in like a little spy, his eyes wide and nervous, almost like he had no idea what he was doing. He’d give you a shy, barely audible compliment, his face turning pink with embarrassment, then like a startled rabbit, he’d flee the moment he thought his sister might come back.

Those moments had always been cute to you, a little bittersweet even, as you realized that beneath his teasing and reluctance, he was probably feeling what you had been feeling all along. It was a secret between the two of you, but you never spoke about it, and you never pushed him.

Fast forward to now, and it seemed like history wasn’t changing all that much. When his sister brought you home after school, Ni-ki would still dart straight to his room, as if it was instinct. But the moment you were alone, he’d come. And this time, instead of just a compliment, he’d add a kiss and a hug—soft and hesitant at first, but the more you were together, the more comfortable he became with it.

The Ni-ki who used to be too shy to even look at you for more than a few seconds was now the Ni-ki who wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close with a gentle kiss to your forehead.

It made your heart flutter every time.

One afternoon, after school had let out, you found yourself walking into his house again, this time with his sister. She led the way to her room, leaving you alone for a moment. You made your way to the kitchen, your stomach growling slightly as you thought about grabbing a snack. The house was quieter than usual, a soft hum of the fridge and distant footsteps echoing through the walls.

But when you stepped into the kitchen, you froze.

There, standing with his back turned to you, was Ni-ki.

He was leaning against the counter, casually sipping from a water bottle, but the second you stepped into the room, he froze too. His head snapped toward you, and for a split second, you caught a glimpse of his surprised expression before he quickly masked it with a nonchalant smile.

"Didn't hear you come in," he said, his voice almost too casual, a little too smooth, as if he was trying to convince both you and himself that nothing was out of the ordinary.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a slow step forward, not wanting to let on how much your heart was suddenly racing. "You look like you're hiding something."

Ni-ki chuckled softly, the sound a little nervous. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly not quite sure how to handle the situation. "I'm not hiding anything. Just getting some water."

You couldn’t help but grin, noticing the faint blush creeping across his cheeks. It was always adorable how easy it was to get him flustered, even after everything.

"Really?" you teased, walking closer until you were just a few feet away from him. "Because it looks like you're waiting for someone."

His gaze flickered to the floor, then back up to meet yours, and that mischievous smile returned. "Maybe I am."

It was hard to ignore how his words made your chest tighten with warmth. You had always loved the easy, playful nature of your relationship, but moments like this, when it felt like you were on the edge of something more, always left you wondering if you were getting too comfortable in your secrecy.

Ni-ki stepped closer, almost imperceptibly, closing the space between you just a little. "You want something?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes twinkling with that playful mischief.

You grinned, leaning in just a bit too, closing the last bit of space between you two. "I don’t know, maybe you should make me something," you teased, your voice sweet but laced with that challenging tone he knew so well.

Ni-ki smirked, leaning in slightly. "Oh, I’m sure I could," he replied, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper. "But I think you're just trying to get me to do all the work."

You raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in your own eyes. "Maybe I like watching you work."

Ni-ki let out a soft chuckle, his gaze darkening, and for a moment, it felt like everything had slowed down. He took another step closer, his hand reaching out as if to grab your waist, but just as he did, you slipped away from him with a sly grin.

"Not today, Niki," you teased, making a quick dash toward the fridge.

He groaned playfully, but his eyes never left you as you quickly opened the fridge door, leaning slightly forward to grab a drink. The way your body bent and the curve of your back made Ni-ki’s breath catch for a moment.

And then, he was there—right behind you.

You barely had a second to process it before his tall frame leaned over your shoulder, his chest brushing against your back as he placed his hands on either side of the fridge door, trapping you in the small space between him and the cool metal.

"Got you," he murmured, his voice laced with playful triumph.

You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His closeness, his body pressing into yours—it was enough to make your pulse quicken. But even then, you couldn’t help but laugh, your voice light and teasing. "You think you have me?"

His lips hovered dangerously close to your ear. "I know I do."

Before you could say anything else, Ni-ki leaned even closer, his hand brushing against your waist, pulling you back just enough to make you feel his warmth against your skin. But just as his fingers lightly grazed your side, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh and tilt your head to the side, slipping out of his grasp again.

"You’re gonna have to try harder than that," you said, your voice breathy with the thrill of the game.

Ni-ki smirked, his eyes sparkling with the challenge. But then, without warning, he surprised you.

In one swift motion, he was right behind you again, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him so suddenly that you barely had time to react. Before you could even catch your breath, his lips were on your neck, warm and soft as they grazed the skin just below your ear.

You gasped, feeling the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His lips moved lower, trailing gentle kisses along the curve of your neck and over your shoulder, each one more deliberate than the last, each one making your heart race even faster.

"Got you," Ni-ki whispered, his voice low and husky, a playful yet possessive edge to it.

You leaned back into him, your heart pounding against your chest as you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation of his touch overwhelm you. You could feel his pulse against your back, the way he tightened his grip just enough to remind you that he was completely in control in this moment.

But, true to form, you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. With a smirk, you tilted your head slightly, teasing him as you felt his lips linger on your skin. "I didn’t know you were such a smooth talker," you whispered, trying to regain your balance in the game, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and full of anticipation.

Ni-ki’s laugh rumbled low against your ear, and he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, a little longer this time. "I’m full of surprises," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

Just as you were about to fire back with another teasing remark, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs made both of you freeze.

In an instant, Ni-ki pulled back, his hands leaving your waist as if they had never been there in the first place. You stepped away just as quickly, looking at your drink from the fridge and pretending to inspect the label as if your heart wasn’t still racing.

Ni-ki, ever the actor, leaned casually against the counter, taking another sip from his water bottle like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just had his lips on your skin seconds ago.

His sister appeared in the doorway, completely oblivious to the moment she had just unknowingly interrupted. "Oh, you’re in here," she said, looking at you before glancing at Ni-ki, narrowing her eyes slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Ni-ki scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I live here?" he deadpanned, acting completely unbothered.

His sister gave him a look, clearly unimpressed. "Yeah, but you always hide in your room the second I bring her over," she pointed out, motioning toward you.

Your grip on the drink tightened slightly as you forced yourself to act normal, offering her an innocent shrug. "Maybe he’s finally realized we’re fun to be around."

Ni-ki snorted, shaking his head. "Doubt it."

You shot him a glare at his quick response, and he met your gaze with a barely concealed smirk, as if daring you to react. He was still playing the game, even now.

His sister sighed, muttering something under her breath about him being annoying before grabbing a snack from the counter. "Anyway, come on," she said, turning to you. "Let’s go to my room before he ruins the vibe."

You nodded, but as you turned to follow her out, you felt it—a quick, sneaky tug at the hem of your shirt, glancing over your shoulder you watched Ni-ki give you one last, knowing smirk before turning his attention back to his drink.

You and Ni-ki regularly went on dates alone, sneaking away from the watchful eyes of his sister and anyone else who might question why you two spent so much time together. Whether it was at your house, where you could finally act like a real couple without fear of being caught, or out in the city where you wandered without a real destination, those moments were yours—and yours alone.

But what you loved the most were the late-night adventures, the times when the world felt quieter, and it was just the two of you. There was something about being outside together after dark, the cool night air wrapping around you as you walked aimlessly, hands brushing but never quite holding in public.

Sometimes, you’d end up at a convenience store, grabbing snacks and daring each other to try the weirdest drinks you could find. Other times, you’d find yourselves at a park, where the swings sat empty, waiting for you both. That’s where the real fun began—challenging each other to see who could swing the highest, laughing breathlessly as the wind rushed past your faces.

You loved those moments.

But then you noticed the shift almost immediately.

Ni-ki had always been good at sneaking around, at making sure no one caught onto your secret. But lately, his sister had started to catch on—questioning why he was out so late, why he always seemed to disappear right after school, why he tiptoed into the house like he was hiding something.

The night everything changed, he had stayed at your place later than usual. It hadn’t been intentional—you had just fallen asleep on him, curled up so peacefully that he couldn’t bear to wake you. So he stayed, just for a little while longer, holding you in his arms, savoring the warmth of having you so close.

But “a little while longer” turned into hours, and by the time he finally forced himself to leave, it was too late. His sister caught him sneaking in and wasted no time telling their parents.

And just like that, he was grounded. No more late-night outings. No more sneaking over to your place. No more swinging at the park, or wandering through empty streets just because you could.

At first, you told yourself it was fine. It was just temporary.

But as the days passed, doubt started to creep in.

You wanted a relationship where you could be with Ni-ki whenever you wanted, where you could hug him freely, kiss him without hesitation, cuddle up next to him without fear of being caught. You wanted to go on dates when you wanted—not when it was convenient, not when no one was looking, but when you felt like it.

And now, because of his sister—because of this one small mishap—everything you had built with Ni-ki felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

You didn’t want to admit it.

But for the first time since he nervously asked you to be his girlfriend, you were beginning to wonder if keeping your relationship a secret had been a mistake.

The weight of it all settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating.

At first, you and Ni-ki tried to make it work. You’d see each other briefly at school, sneaking small moments when no one was paying attention. A lingering touch when you passed each other in the hallways, a stolen glance across the classroom, a hushed conversation in the few seconds you had alone.

But it wasn’t enough.

You missed him.

You missed the late-night adventures, the feel of having him next to you, the freedom of just being with him without worrying about who was watching. You missed the way he’d laugh with you, the way he’d complain when you beat him at your little competitions, the way he’d pull you close when no one else was around.

Now, every interaction felt rushed, stolen, like something that could be taken away at any moment. And the worst part? You could see it in Ni-ki too.

He was trying so hard to act like everything was fine. He’d flash you his usual smirk, make his usual teasing remarks, but you could tell it wasn’t the same. His hands twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. His eyes lingered on you longer, like he was memorizing you in case he didn’t get another chance.

It was frustrating.

It was unfair.

And most of all, it hurt.

One afternoon, when you finally got a rare moment alone, you let out a frustrated sigh, crossing your arms. "This isn’t a relationship, Ni-ki," you muttered, hating how bitter your voice sounded.

He blinked, caught off guard by your sudden words. "What do you mean?"

You sighed again, shaking your head. "I mean this—us. Sneaking around, barely seeing each other, acting like we don’t exist to each other when other people are around. This isn’t what I wanted."

Something in his expression shifted, like the reality of your words was finally sinking in. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right thing to say.

"I know," he admitted quietly. "I hate it too."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" you asked, looking at him, hoping he had some kind of answer.

For a moment, he was silent. Then, after what felt like forever, he took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he looked at you.

"We tell her," he said. "We tell my sister the truth."

You shook your head almost instantly. “Ni-ki, no,” you said, voice tight. “You don’t understand—if we tell her, everything changes.”

His brows furrowed. “Isn’t that the point? So we don’t have to sneak around anymore?”

“No.” You let out a shaky sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Ni-ki, I don’t want to see how she reacts. I don’t want to see her look at me differently because I’m dating you, her brother. What if she gets mad? What if she feels betrayed? What if she hates me for not telling her sooner?” Your voice wavered, and you hated how insecure you sounded, but it was the truth.

You looked down, biting your lip. “I don’t want to lose her as my friend,” you admitted. “And I don’t want to lose you as my boyfriend.”

Ni-ki’s face softened, his expression shifting from determination to understanding. “Hey, hey.” His voice was gentle now as he stepped closer, hands hesitating before reaching for yours. “That’s not gonna happen.”

But you weren’t convinced. “You don’t know that.”

He sighed, squeezing your hands. “No, I don’t,” he admitted, “but I know us. I know she’s important to you. I know you’re important to me. And I know that sneaking around like this isn’t fair to either of us.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the what-ifs clouded your mind, filling you with doubt and fear.

Your breathing hitched, and Ni-ki noticed immediately.

Without another word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight.

You stiffened at first, but the second his warmth enveloped you, the second the familiar scent of his cologne surrounded you, the tension in your body slowly melted away.

His hand ran soothingly up and down your back, his chin resting on top of your head. “Just breathe,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, you did.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax against him, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the comfort of his embrace.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in Ni-ki’s warmth, his arms around you like a shield against the overwhelming thoughts racing in your mind.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your waist. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But keeping this a secret forever isn’t fair to you. Or me.”

He was right, and you knew it. This wasn’t sustainable. You couldn’t keep hiding, couldn’t keep pretending you weren’t together whenever his sister was around. It was exhausting.

But still—

“What if she gets mad?” you whispered, your biggest fear spilling out into the open. “What if she stops being my friend?”

Ni-ki sighed, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “Then I’ll deal with it,” he promised. “It’s not just on you. It’s on me too.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling shakily. “I just don’t want to lose everything,” you admitted.

“You won’t.” His fingers tightened slightly around your waist. “I’ll make sure of it.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. Let yourself sink into the comfort of his presence, the certainty in his voice.

Then, he pulled back slightly, a small smirk creeping onto his lips. “Besides, you’re way more likable than me. If she’s mad at anyone, it’ll probably be me.”

Despite everything, you let out a small laugh, swatting his arm lightly. “That’s not true.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because I distinctly remember her saying to me, ‘I don’t know how our family ended up with you, but at least I have her as a best friend.’”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Okay, maybe a little true.”

He grinned. “See? If anyone’s doomed, it’s me.”

His lightheartedness made the weight on your chest feel a little lighter. He always had that effect on you.

You sighed, biting your lip. “Okay,” you finally said. “Let’s tell her.”

His eyes brightened, as if he hadn’t fully expected you to agree. “Really?”

You nodded, still a little nervous, but willing to take the risk. “Yeah. You’re right. We can’t keep this up forever.”

Ni-ki’s grin grew wider, and before you could react, he hugged you again, lifting you slightly off the ground in excitement.

“Finally,” he murmured against your shoulder. “I can finally call you mine without hiding it.”

You had agreed to tell his sister, but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy.

“When do we do it?” you asked, your fingers still loosely holding onto the fabric of his hoodie.

Ni-ki tilted his head, thinking. “Tonight?”

Your eyes widened. “Tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, if we wait too long, we’ll just keep overthinking it.”

You hesitated. He had a point—you could already feel yourself second-guessing everything. If you didn’t tell her soon, you’d find excuses to delay it again and again.

Still, the thought of sitting his sister down, confessing everything, and waiting for her reaction made your stomach twist.

“What if she flips out?” you murmured, your nerves creeping back in.

Ni-ki sighed, reaching down to take your hands in his. “Then she flips out,” he said simply. “But at least we’ll finally know instead of driving ourselves crazy wondering.”

You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Okay. Tonight.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, but there was something else in his eyes too—pride.

Just then, footsteps echoed down the hall. Both of you froze, the moment instantly shattering as his sister’s voice rang out.

“Where’d you go?”

Ni-ki stepped back quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets as you turned to grab a random snack from the counter, trying to act as casual as possible.

His sister appeared in the doorway, glancing between the two of you suspiciously. “What are you guys doing?”

“Uh—” Ni-ki started, but you cut in before he could make things worse.

“Just grabbing something to eat.” You held up the snack in your hand as proof, flashing a forced smile.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she wasn’t completely convinced, but after a moment, she just shrugged. “Okay… well, hurry up. I wanted to show you something in my room.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the two of you standing in the kitchen, tension still thick in the air.

You let out a shaky breath. “That was close.”

Ni-ki smirked slightly. “You panicked so hard you grabbed croutons.”

You glanced down at the bag in your hand, realizing with horror that he was right. “Oh my god.”

He snickered. “Adorable.”

You shot him a glare, but before you could retort, he leaned in quickly, pressing a small kiss to your temple.

“Tonight,” he whispered.

And just like that, your nerves were back.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of overthinking.

You tried your best to act normal while hanging out with Ni-ki’s sister, but your mind kept drifting back to what was coming later. Every time she laughed or excitedly shared something with you, guilt gnawed at your chest. She had no idea what you were about to tell her—no idea that things between you and her brother had changed months ago.

And worst of all, you still didn’t know how she was going to react.

Ni-ki had texted you a simple "Don't overthink. It'll be fine." But that was easier said than done.

By the time evening rolled around, your nerves were completely shot. You had gone home for a bit, needing time to prepare yourself, but now you were back, standing outside Ni-ki’s house, staring at the front door like it was some kind of enemy.

Taking a deep breath, you texted Ni-ki that you were outside.

A moment later, Ni-ki opened the door, giving you a small smile. “You ready?”

“Not at all,” you muttered.

He huffed out a quiet laugh but didn’t tease you like he usually would. Instead, he reached out, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently.

You squeezed back.

Then, with another deep breath, you stepped inside.

His sister was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when she saw you and grinned. “Hey! You’re back. We were just about to—”

She paused, her eyes flickering between you and Ni-ki, who had let go of your hand the second you walked in. Slowly, she sat up straighter, her expression shifting into something more observant.

“…What’s going on?”

Your heart pounded.

Ni-ki cleared his throat. “So… we need to tell you something.”

Silence.

Then, her eyes narrowed. “What did you do?” she asked, pointing at Ni-ki.

Despite the tension, you almost laughed.

“Why do you assume it’s me?” he asked, looking mildly offended.

“Because it usually is you.”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “Okay, fair, but this time it’s both of us.”

His sister squinted at the two of you, suspicion written all over her face. “Both of you?” she repeated slowly. “Okay, now I have to know.”

She sat up straighter, tapping her fingers against her chin as she thought. Then, her eyes lit up.

“Oh! Did you guys get caught sneaking out somewhere?”

“No,” you said quickly.

“Did you flunk a test and make a secret pact to never tell anyone?”

Ni-ki scoffed. “What kind of dumb guess is that?”

She ignored him. “Wait, wait—did you guys accidentally break something of mine? My makeup? My headphones? My hoodie?!”

“For the last time,” Ni-ki groaned, “I did not steal your hoodie.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s exactly what someone who stole my hoodie would say.”

You stifled a laugh as Ni-ki ran a hand down his face in frustration.

His sister gasped. “Oh my god. Did you guys join a secret underground club or something?”

Ni-ki groaned dramatically. “No.”

“Then what is it?!” she demanded, growing impatient.

Ni-ki let out a long sigh before suddenly reaching for you. Before you could react, he pulled you closer, leaning in, his arm slipping around your waist.

Your body reacted on instinct, naturally leaning into him like you had done so many times before. It was familiar. Comfortable.

His sister blinked. Then, slowly, her eyes widened.

“No way.”

Ni-ki smirked. “Finally.”

She pointed at the two of you, her mouth opening and closing like she was struggling to process what she was seeing. “You mean to tell me—this whole time—you two have been—”

“Dating?” Ni-ki finished for her, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah.”

Silence.

Then—

“WHAT?!”

His sister shot up from the couch so fast that you swore she almost lost her balance. “You’re joking.”

You and Ni-ki didn’t say anything, just watching as she processed the news in real-time. Her eyes flickered between you both, her mouth still slightly open.

“You’re joking, right?” she repeated, pointing at Ni-ki. “This is a prank, isn’t it? There’s no way—”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know! You always look like you’re up to something!”

Fair point.

You shifted nervously under her intense gaze, and Ni-ki must’ve noticed because he gave your waist a reassuring squeeze.

Finally, she let out a loud groan and flopped back onto the couch. “This is insane.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “Why?”

“Because!” She threw her hands up. “I knew something was weird! You started sneaking around, leaving late at night, disappearing when I wasn’t looking—” She turned to you. “And you! You were acting all weird too!”

You winced. “I didn’t mean to.”

She sighed dramatically, running a hand through her hair. “So, how long?”

You hesitated before saying, “A few months.”

She gasped, looking personally offended. “MONTHS?!”

Ni-ki smirked. “Surprise?”

She shot him a glare. “You better not be smug about this.”

“I’m not,” he lied.

She groaned again before finally leaning back against the couch, looking at the two of you properly now.

“…Okay,” she muttered. “Okay. I can’t believe this, but okay.”

You and Ni-ki exchanged a glance. “So… you’re not mad?” you asked cautiously.

She exhaled, crossing her arms. “I mean, I should be, considering you two have been lying to me for months, but…” She trailed off before sighing again. “Honestly? I’m just shocked.”

Ni-ki grinned. “So you approve?”

She shot him a look. “Don’t push it.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and Ni-ki gave you a knowing smile.

His sister stared at you both for a few more seconds before shaking her head, muttering, “This is so weird.”

Then, she pointed at Ni-ki. “But if you ever hurt my best friend, I will make your life miserable.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “You already do.”

She smirked. “Exactly.”

You had done it.

After months of sneaking around, stolen glances, and hushed conversations, you and Ni-ki had finally told the truth. And now, for the first time, you could be together without the fear of being caught hanging over your heads.

Which meant moments like this—cuddled up in his room, wrapped in his blankets, watching a movie—felt even better.

Ni-ki’s arm was draped lazily around you, his fingers occasionally tracing absentminded patterns against your back. Your head rested against his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he took. The sound of the movie played in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention.

You sighed contently, snuggling deeper into him. “This is nice.”

Ni-ki hummed, shifting slightly to pull you closer. “Mmm. We should’ve told her sooner.”

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head to look up at him. “You should’ve told her sooner.”

He scoffed. “Excuse me? You were the one who kept freaking out over it.”

You playfully poked his side, making him flinch. “And for good reason! What if she hadn’t taken it well?”

He rolled his eyes but softened almost immediately as he looked at you. “Yeah, but she did,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And now we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

You smiled, letting your eyes flutter shut as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Now,” he said, shifting under the blankets, “are we actually gonna watch this movie, or should I just turn it off and kiss you instead?”

You laughed, swatting at his chest. “Let’s at least pretend to watch it.”

Ni-ki sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, instead tightening his arms around you and letting you settle against him once more.

Just as you were getting comfortable, the door suddenly swung open.

"Alright, lovebirds, here’s your dumb—Ew!" Ni-ki’s sister fake-gagged, dramatically covering her eyes as she stepped into the room. "Are you serious right now?"

You lifted your head just in time to see a bag of chips flying toward you. You barely caught it before it smacked you in the face.

"Thanks," you said, amused.

Ni-ki, on the other hand, groaned. "Could you knock next time?"

His sister ignored him, arms crossed as she gave him a sharp look. "I swear, Ni-ki, if you ever hurt them or act like an ass, I will personally make your life a nightmare."

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you, though?"

"I do," he deadpanned. "Loud and clear. Now, can you leave?"

With one last suspicious glare, she huffed and spun on her heel, walking out of the room while muttering something about "annoying brothers." The door clicked shut behind her.

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked at Ni-ki. "She really doesn’t trust you, huh?"

Ni-ki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Apparently not."

You studied him for a moment, then hesitated before asking softly, "Would you ever?"

His brows furrowed. "Would I ever what?"

You swallowed, shifting slightly against his chest. "Would you ever hurt me?"

His expression immediately softened, and without hesitation, he cupped your face gently, tilting your chin up so you’d look at him.

"Tell me you want me," he murmured, voice lower than before, "and I’ll make sure you never doubt it."

Your breath caught in your throat.

There was no hesitation in his gaze, no uncertainty. Just pure, unwavering devotion.

You felt warmth spread through your chest as you whispered, "I want you."

A slow smile tugged at his lips as he leaned down, brushing a kiss against your forehead before murmuring, "Then you have nothing to worry about." Ni-ki then leaned in, his lips nearly brushing yours, but just as he was about to kiss you, you giggled and pulled back.

"Too slow," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He smirked, trying to move closer, but you slid back, keeping just enough space between you both to make the game even more exciting. “You’re so cute when you’re trying to catch me.”

Ni-ki’s eyes narrowed with determination. “You’re not getting away this time.”

You laughed again, twisting your body just out of his grasp as he leaned in once more, trying to catch you.

He moved faster, quicker than you expected, and before you could react, he grabbed your waist, pulling you into the bed with him.

You squealed, trying to wiggle out of his grip, but his arms locked around you, holding you down gently yet firmly. "You’re playing with fire," he murmured, "and I’m willing to burn."

The movie, now forgotten, played on in the background, but neither of you were paying attention anymore. You squirmed beneath him, laughing and trying to push him off, but it was no use. Ni-ki was far too strong, and he easily maneuvered you into a position where you were the one who had no control.

"Ni-ki!" you protested, still laughing but helpless against his strength. "Get off!"

He only chuckled, his face hovering over yours as his body pressed lightly onto yours. "You sure you want me to?"

Your heart raced, both from the closeness and the playful struggle. "Yes!" you squealed, but there was no real seriousness in your voice—it was all part of the game.

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with that trademark mischief. "You’re not winning this one, you know."

With a swift move, he shifted his weight, locking your wrists beside your head and leaving you breathless beneath him. "You really think you can get away with teasing me, huh?" he whispered.

You couldn’t help but laugh even more, the sound ringing out in the quiet room. "This is cheating!"

Ni-ki leaned in closer, his lips barely touching your skin. "No, baby. It’s called winning."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and despite the fact that you were pinned beneath him, a rush of excitement shot through you. Ni-ki's body was pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he hovered just inches away from your lips.

"You can't just—" You tried to protest, but your voice faltered as he leaned in even closer, brushing his nose against yours with a teasing smile.

"What's the matter?" he murmured, his lips just grazing your cheek. "Scared?"

You tilted your head, trying to escape the sweet, teasing assault of his proximity. "Not scared. Just... frustrated."

He laughed softly, a deep, knowing sound that sent a wave of heat through you. "Frustrated, huh?" He leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth, lingering just long enough to make you squirm beneath him. "Tell me what you want, then."

His words were a challenge, the promise of something more. You couldn’t resist his proximity anymore, even though you still wanted to make him work for it a little longer.

"I want you," you said, your voice low but determined, meeting his gaze with a challenge of your own.

His eyes flickered with something intense before his lips curved into a sly smile. "Good," he whispered. "You got it."

Without another word, he kissed you—hard and demanding, but full of warmth and tenderness. His grip on your wrists loosened just enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

And in that moment, you realized there was no escaping Ni-ki—not that you ever wanted to.

a/n: i wrote this while watching the Elvis movie for the 4th time..

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[adoredawn]

✧˖° — adventures in babysitting

pairing: joe goldberg x fem!reader

type: imagine (1.6k+ words)

requested: no

summary: joe and love decide to get a babysitter for henry after dottie’s breakdown. who would’ve thought she'd spark joe's interest?

warning(s): one-sided pining (-ish). rushed plot / dialogue. no use of y/n.

note(s): not my gif. not my divider. this takes place during season 3! i’ve seen sooo little joe love on here, so i thought i’d write some! i haven’t written a full fledged fic in nearly 4 years, so please bear with me while i try to regain my skills. reblog & comment if you enjoyed it / want a part 2!

adoredawn’s masterlist

“if you want to make some calls to any previous parents i’ve worked with, there are some cell numbers i can give you,” you said with a smile, looking between the husband and wife before you. you sat opposite them on a plush loveseat as they were side-by-side on their gray sofa adorned with decorative pillows.

“oh that doesn’t seem necessary, we’ve heard great things.” love grinned as she patted joe’s knee lovingly. “cary and sherry just could not recommend you enough!”

you giggled and shook your head, smoothening out your summer dress. “i did have my hands full with those twins, that week and a half was a wild one…”

there was an uncomfortable silence. the house was eerily quiet for a toddler to be living in it, though it was his nap time. your eyes drifted down to what trinkets littered their coffee table. coasters, a book on home décor, and toddler toy keys.

as you had walked in earlier, you noticed their home was eerily clean. a family portrait of the three was already hung in a hallway and other pictures were framed on bookshelves and end tables. their home was modern, yet vintage at the same time. it felt like a showroom, but one you could call home.

you could feel their eyes on you, studying you, as you gazed around their home.

joe cleared his throat and sat up straighter, love looked at him expectingly and you mimicked his movements, snapping out of your thoughts. “so… how soon can you start? how’s your schedule?”

you opened your mouth to answer, reaching beside you to grab your purse and look at the calendar on your phone, but a cry rang from upstairs.

love sighed, “sorry about that, i guess nap time’s over! i’ll go get him and we can introduce you.” she sprang up from her seat and made her way up the staircase, glancing back once to eye joe.

joe watched as his wife traveled up the stairs to soothe their toddler, and as he turned back to look at you, he caught your stare. you momentarily forgot what he had asked, flustered. “oh-uh, well i can start as soon as you need. i’m available all week really. i’m taking a break from school for a semester.”

joe seemed to perk up, and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “huh, what’re you studying?”

“education, with a focus on advanced literature in secondary education”

he licked his lips and you couldn’t help but watch. your hands balled into fists in your lap, crescent moons forming in your palms from your nails digging in.

“you enjoy reading?” his voice buzzed lowly with curiosity and you nodded softly.

“mhm, i plan on being a high school teacher or a professor once i graduate.” you paused, looking behind joe at the staircase, and wondering what was taking love so long. you shook your head slightly, focusing your attention back on joe, trying to remain cool. “do you read?”

“i do. i was a bookstore manager for some time.”

“really? that must’ve been fun-“

“here he is, say ‘hi’ henry!” love came down the stairs carrying henry on her hip. joe turned and watched them both come down, reaching for henry once love had sat beside him again.

you waved at little henry, and he barely paid you any mind, focusing on his mother and father. love turned him around to sit facing you, where you could see that his white pajama onesie was covered in blue moons and yellow stars.

“henry, say ‘hi,’ bubba!” love encouraged him, grabbing his arm to wave at you, causing you to smile and wave back. she looked up from him, to you, a serious look on her face. “do you want to hold him? he’s not very fussy around newer people.”

you hesitate, looking back and forth between love and joe, as if asking for permission, even though love has already granted it. meanwhile henry babbled, spitting drool over his onesie. “sure sure, i’ve got him,” you said confidently.

you stood and bent over the coffee table separating you from the couple, reaching for their toddler. as love passed him to you, henry giggled, flailing his legs and flapping his arms while he’s in the air, causing the three of you to also begin laughing.

you felt joe watching you as you held henry, and you tried your best not to return any glances, wanting to maintain your focus on henry.

you sat back on the loveseat, bouncing henry on your lap a few times. “hey, henry, how’re you doing, buddy? i’m gonna be your new babysitter.” you tell him your name, chanting it as you point at yourself a few times. he looks at you and smiles, grabbing at the bottom hem of your dress and tugging.

you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched as you had henry in your lap. of course you were being watched, you told yourself. joe and love just wanted to make sure they would be leaving henry with someone who knew what they were doing. and you very much did.

after a few minutes of holding henry, he began to stretch his arms out, pleading to go back to his parents. you held him back safely as he whined and yearned to reach the other side of the coffee table.

joe grunted an “i got ‘im,” before he walked over to you and picked henry up off of your lap, his hands brushing yours. you felt a pang in your heart as you touched, but squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to ignore it.

once joe got a hold of him, henry began to shriek. joe tried to calm him down, patting his back and rocking him side to side, but he didn’t let up. love quickly got up from her seat and took henry from joe, patting his back.

“it’s okay, forty, it’s okay, momma’s here…” love soothed him, and whispered “sorry!” she sat back on the couch, trying to calm him down.

joe ran a hand through his hair, frowned, and sighed. you watched him with a frown, and he caught your gaze, to which you stood and stuck out your hand. “it was really great to meet you you both.”

joe took your hand in his and shook, smiling softly at you. “it was nice meeting you, miss... i’ll walk you out.” you blushed lightly as he recalled your name and turned to love and squeezed her shoulder goodbye. she muttered a soft “bye” and you rubbed henry’s back and said bye to him as well.

joe kissed love on the cheek as she settled henry down and followed behind you. you reached for the doorknob, and joe followed suit, his fingers brushing against yours again. they lingered for a second, and you turned to look up at him as you retreated your hand.

he smiled gingerly as he grabbed hold of the knob and twisted the door open. you’re both greeted by the gorgeous california sun and birdsong and you take a step outside. you turned, expecting to say your final goodbyes, but joe followed you out.

“thank you, again, for coming out to see us and meet henry. i assume love already gave you our numbers?” he asked as he closed the door behind him. he leaned against the door frame with both hands in his pockets and quickly looked you up and down.

you nodded, “yeah, it was no problem. and she did. do you have mine?” you began pulling your phone out of your purse before joe spoke.

“yes, i can send you a text to make sure it’s the right one?”

before you could agree, joe pulled his phone out of his back pocket and began typing. soon enough, you heard a familiar ding! from inside your purse, and went to read the message:

Hello, you.

you smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “i’ve got it, thanks.” you turned away to leave before stopping abruptly. joe had already turned to leave as well, and faltered as you came back. “sorry, uh, i was just wondering when would i be starting?”

joe stuck his tongue in his cheek, in thought for a moment, and you took this time to fully drink him in. he had one hand in his pants pocket, the other rubbing his chin. his dark curls fell perfectly over his forehead, and you wanted to brush them away to get him to look deeply into your eyes. his gray sleeves hugged the curve of the muscles on his arms so right, that you nearly melted at the thought of being trapped in them.

you couldn’t be thinking like this, you scolded yourself. you'd never suddenly gotten this rush of feelings when meeting someone before. he’s happily married with a kid that you’ll be taking care of. get. it. together!

“how about monday? i’ll be home for a few hours, and i don’t think love would mind if i stay and show you henry’s schedule.”

you nodded eagerly, “absolutely, just let me know when to get here. thank you, again, for having me!” you waved goodbye as you trekked down their concrete walkway and to their white picket fence toward your car. you covered your eyes from the sun and once you made it to your car, you searched for and waved at joe from across the street.

joe waved to you and watched as you settled into your vehicle. he didn’t take his eyes off of you until your car had driven out of his sight, eager for the weekend to fly by and see you on monday.

[hellishjoel]

catching flights and snowflakes

616 words / pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog | seasons of life challenge masterlist

word: snow

warnings/information: established relationship, pure fluff

a/n: this is me re-writing my author's note because my queue failed me! so I'm just getting around to seeing this and properly posting my seasons of life challenge masterlist and my first post ((now a day late >:[)) - my banners are by @saradika-graphics <3 shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

“You’re going to freeze your ass off,” you warn your Florida-born and-raised boyfriend Frankie, whose half-packed suitcase consists of breezy button-ups and cargo shorts. 

His adorably confused expression glances from his open suitcase to your dubious look. “How cold can it be? Thirty degrees sounds like nothin’.” He sassily retorts, pinching your chin between his fingers and thumb as he angles your chin upward so that he can place a soft kiss on your lips. 

It’s his first Christmas visiting your side of the family. You were leaving palm trees behind for Castleton green pines, and his wardrobe was drastically underprepared. 

“Let’s see. Christmas in the Midwest will consist of thirty-degree temperatures, colder if there’s a windchill. You have no warm hat, gloves, or jeans without holes in the knees. The only type of boots you own are hiking boots, and those won’t keep you warm if we have to walk through the snow.” 

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, something mischievous and almost kid-like. “You think there’s gonna be snow? A white Christmas?” 

Frankie has always been devoted to the warmth that central Florida offers, never tempted to swap it for a colder climate. Snow is a rarity in his world—he's only experienced the occasional fleeting flurry. By the time those delicate flakes touched the ground, the warmth quickly melted them away, leaving no trace behind.

You didn’t promise him anything, especially with climate change and all, but as soon as your plane had touched down, fat white snowflakes passed by your airplane window with no agenda or intent. They were weightless, the reminder you needed to hold with you as the end of the year approached.  

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” you whisper to Frankie, interlocking your fingers with his as he joins you in staring out at the midnight blue velvet sky where snow begins to fall steadily. 

Your heart soars as your boyfriend’s gaze lingers on every window you pass, from deboarding the plane to the grand floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the planes landing and departing on the tarmac. He couldn’t resist the excitement of his first real snowfall. 

Having grown up with snow days that shut down schools and heavy flakes piling up inches at a time, you had almost forgotten how magical snow could be.

Frankie’s smile is unwavering, a grin stretched wide across his face as you exit the airport’s main entrance, scanning the lot for your dad’s truck.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his breath swirling in the icy air, visible like a fleeting ghost in front of his face. “I can finally do it, just like in the movies.” Frankie’s excitement spills over as he drops his duffel bag on the sidewalk with a thud, stepping boldly out from the shelter of the airport canopy into the falling snow. He tugs his jacket tighter around him, the cold air making his cheeks rosy. “We had snow once,” Frankie says, staring at the flakes. “Didn’t even stick. Mom made us cocoa just to celebrate.” He grins at the memory and looks down at you. “This? This is a whole other level.”

You giggle as Frankie sticks out his tongue and dives his head from side to side in search of a flake to land on his tongue. “You’re doin’ this with me,” He holds your hands and twirls you under the night sky, both of you chasing snowflakes and cheering when they eventually melt on your warm tongue. 

“We should build a snowman tomorrow. This is perfect packing snow,” you remark casually, pressing your shoe into the thick, powdery layer already blanketing the ground.

Frankie’s eyes damn near bulge out of his head. “We can build a fucking snowman?!”

[oofthwoods]

VICIOUS! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: arthur leclerc likes a certain type of woman: smart, neglects intuition, and not as good as him.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: set in 2021, during echo's formula 3 season. they're both jerks to each other here :/ based on vicious by sabrina carpenter (emails i cant send pretty much defines their relationship). this is short but it's important for her future relationship with a certain someone | i used echo instead of y/n here, but tell me which one you prefer

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 2.09k

"I TRIED TO LOOK FOR THE BEST IN THE WORST BUT LIKE, FUCK ME, THAT CAUSED A COMMOTION."

As the evening progresses in Austria, the bustling noises of the city begin to fade into the background, replaced by the occasional murmur of distant conversations and the gentle swish of car tires on the damp pavement. The scent of rain lingers in the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of pine carried by a cool breeze from the nearby mountains. The warmth of the day still lingers, but it's now more tolerable, just a faint reminder of earlier heat.

Arthur paces back and forth on the soft carpet beneath his bare feet, his footsteps creating a restless rhythm that echoes in his mind. Every so often, he runs his fingers along the curtains, feeling the delicate and cool fabric against his skin. But it's as if he's only scratching at the surface of the problem consuming him.

The third stage of the Formula 3 championship went off without a hitch for the three races. Arthur claimed the fastest lap in the second race, while Y/N took home first place in that same race. Prema and Art teams were locked in a heated competition for points during the first half of the championship, with the French team ultimately taking the lead after Frederik Vesti's win at the last race in the Red Bull Ring.

Throughout that weekend, Arthur barely spoke to her. Despite being swamped with commitments such as hectic meetings, exhaustive tests, and endless interviews, they used to make an effort to connect even if it was just a quick call. However, her messages were always met with prolonged periods of silence before receiving a brief and unenthusiastic response, leaving her feeling confused and frustrated. Every attempt to call resulted in reaching voicemail without any explanation or apology for his absence.

Despite her victory in the second race, he was not one of the people who congratulated her. He also did not attend the podium ceremony for the third race, where she secured an important second place for her team. She had sent him messages, but he only responded with a short "thank you" for her congratulations on earning extra points for setting the fastest lap. He completely ignored her invitation to join her and some other drivers in a celebration.

She finally couldn't take the silence any longer and broke it with frustration. "Can we at least talk? We're not kids anymore, Arthur," she said, sitting on his cluttered bed.

"Are you leaving for France tomorrow?" Arthur asked quietly, still refusing to look at her as he packed his suitcase.

"No. Fernando wants me to go to Madrid and then Silverstone with him during my break. The team doesn't need me at the factory, so I have some free time," Y/N replied with a heavy sigh, feeling the tension between them.

She received only a grunt as a response, which was enough for her to know that it was time to speak up. "Are you going to turn around and actually use words, or are you going to keep grunting like some kind of primitive?" Her voice held a mix of determination and disappointment, reflecting her growing frustration with the lack of communication between them.

Arthur spun on his heels and made his way slowly towards Y/N, his face betraying a medley of conflicting emotions. She stood up from the bed, keeping a close eye on his expression in anticipation of what might happen next.

Their relationship was still new; they had met at a party thrown by a mutual friend who was also one of her teammates. That night, everything seemed to align perfectly for their chance encounter, and the initial spark of attraction quickly grew into something more profound. Through casual touches, shared smiles, and intimate conversations about their interests and preferences, they were building the fragile yet promising foundations of their relationship.

He paused, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the perfect words to express himself. She watched with curiosity, waiting for him to speak.

"Why didn't you let me overtake you?" Arthur asked, sounding unsure.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows, trying to comprehend his question. She repeated it in her head, trying to understand the underlying meaning. "What do you mean?"

Arthur seemed annoyed by her confusion and scrunched his face in response. "In yesterday's race. I was right behind you, but you wouldn't move out of the way."

Her arms automatically crossed in front of her chest, her tone becoming defensive. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. "Why should I let you pass, Arthur? I don't remember breaking any rules to earn my spot."

Arthur released a frustrated sigh, feeling the tension between them escalating with each word they exchanged. He closed the distance between them, hoping to find some understanding in her eyes.

"I'm not accusing you of breaking any rules, cherie." His tone softened, attempting to diffuse the situation. "I just want to know why you didn't make room for me to pass. It seemed like you were intentionally blocking me."

Y/N felt the weight of Arthur's words as an accusation, and it only added to her growing frustration. She couldn't believe they were having this argument now, when there was so much at stake for both of them.

"Of course I was blocking you! We're competitors, remember?" Her voice was firm, but she laced it with a confused laugh. "My team needs those points. I need those points. Why would I let you have them?"

Arthur took a step back, caught off guard by the intensity of Y/N's response. He looked both surprised and disappointed, struggling to process her strong emotions.

"I just thought you would understand," he muttered, his voice trailing off as if he regretted speaking at all. Unable to meet her gaze, he turned away.

She felt a surge of anger within her, a mix of frustration and sadness. She was taken aback that Arthur would question her integrity on the track, especially considering their intimate relationship off of it.

"Understand?" She repeated, each word dripping with disbelief. "Arthur, I want that title just as much as you do. It's not my responsibility to make it easy for you or anyone else. You know that."

There was a tense moment of silence between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city outside. Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the feeling that something was unraveling between them, something that might never be fully repaired.

"I know," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of weakness. "But I thought we were more than just competitors."

Her expression softened briefly, a flicker of sadness crossing her features before she steeled herself with determination.

"Arthur, I can't sacrifice my career for our relationship," she said, her voice softening slightly. "We both knew what we were getting into when we started dating."

Arthur's voice turned defensive as he tried to justify his actions. "Don't you think it would have been better if I had won?" He glanced at his girlfriend, his eyes pleading for understanding. "You're still new to this category; there will be other chances for you."

She raised her eyebrows, her gaze unwavering and intense. "So, you're saying it would be acceptable for me to lose simply because I'm a rookie?" Her tone was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air.

Arthur paused, searching for the right words to explain himself. "No, that's not what I meant," he stammered, but Y/N cut him off.

"Did you give the same speech to all the other rookies too?" her sarcasm evident.

Arthur's discomfort flickered across his face before he turned back to meet her unwavering stare. "The other rookies aren't in a relationship with me," he retorted with a hint of harshness.

Y/N fell silent, digesting his words. Then, she stepped closer to him, locking eyes with determination.

"Tell me honestly, Arthur," she began calmly yet emotion thick in her voice. "Did you want me to let you win because I'm a rookie or because I'm your girlfriend?"

Her question hit Arthur like a punch to the gut, leaving him struggling to find the right words. He couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"I…I'm not sure," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as uncertainty and vulnerability seeped through. "Maybe it's a bit of both."

Her expression hardened, her eyes showing disappointment and frustration in equal measure. She had expected more from him, hoped that he would acknowledge his own flaws and confront them head-on.

"So you don't trust me as a competitor, as a driver?" she asked, her voice betraying a slight tremor of emotion that she was trying to contain.

Arthur's heart raced as he met her intense gaze. He knew his words had hurt her and shattered the trust she had in him.

"That's not what I meant, cherie." He struggled to find the right words, but they sounded hollow even to his own ears. "It's just…I don't know how to handle the fact that you're better than me."

She was filled with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to scream at him, to tell him that his insecurities were not her responsibility and she couldn't sacrifice her own ambitions for his approval. But at the same time, she felt a twinge of empathy for him, understanding that his insecurity came from a place of deep vulnerability.

"Arthur, I can't change who I am because of your doubts," she said firmly. "And I won't apologize for excelling at what I do."

Arthur's voice took on a smooth, almost patronizing tone, a subtle edge of superiority laced within his words. "You must be feeling quite pleased with yourself, wouldn't you agree?" he mused, his tone carrying a delicate sting. "Stepping onto the stage as a rookie and quickly grabbing the spotlight. Impressive, definitely, but experience and dedication? Those are qualities that develop over time, babe."

Her brow furrowed slightly, a mix of disbelief and hurt flickering across her features. "I just want us to understand each other," she started, her tone gentle yet resolute. "I'm not trying to belittle what you've achieved. But it's not about placing blame. If you truly have the experience and talent you speak of, shouldn't overtaking me come as second nature, without needing to ask?"

Arthur's cheeks flushed with a sudden surge of anger, the tension between them palpable. "You underestimate what it takes to rise to the top," he retorted sharply, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Talent is one thing, but true success in this realm requires more than just skill. Experience is the key that sets winners apart from the rest."

Her eyes narrowed subtly, a flicker of impatience dancing within them. "What makes you assume I lack dedication and experience?" she questioned calmly, her tone holding a hint of challenge. "Just because my journey in this sport hasn't been as long as yours doesn't diminish the effort I've put in."

Arthur emitted a dry chuckle, his resentment barely concealed. "You've had quite the advantageous start, haven't you?" he remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You believe your familial connections and wealth entitle you to success? Reality doesn't operate on such privileges."

Her hands tightened into fists, a surge of defiance coursing through her. She refused to let his patronizing remarks undermine her accomplishments. Her voice remained composed yet firm, slicing through the tension. "Privileges? It's ironic coming from someone who's thrived under their brother's shadow," she countered, her gaze ablaze with determination. "You stand there, relying on your average talent to compensate for the countless doors opened by your surname."

Arthur's complexion deepened with a flush, a blend of shame and anger twisting his expression. He despised the constant comparisons to his brother, weary of residing in his sibling's imposing shadow. This resentment fueled his determination to establish his identity.

"I'm not my brother," he snapped with intensity.

She met his gaze steadily, her defiance unyielding. "No, you're not. And that's the problem," she countered sharply, her tone slicing through the air.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, the air crackling with unspoken animosity as they stood facing each other. Her eyes burned with fury, her hands clenched tightly by her sides. She was done playing nice.

"I'm not carrying anyone's burdens," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "I have my own stuff to deal with. You don't like the fact that your girlfriend is better than you? Consider this problem solved."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley , @stinkyjax , @namgification , @judespoision , @cha-hot , @disneyprincemuke , @itsjustkhaos , @trouble-sistar , @ihateyougunthersteiner , @treehouse-mouse , @cherry-piee , @fangirl125reader , @cassie0sstuff, @be-your-coffee-pot , @elijahslover , @flannelforthetoads , @m0cha-bunny , @ironmaiden1313 , @glitterquadricorn , @spideybv28 , @celesteblack08 , @thatgirlthatreadswattpad , @itscrzy, @canihavemyhoodieback , @eugene-emt-roe

[gayofthefae]

Reminder that throughout season 4 and in anticipation for volume 2, I and many were waiting to see if Byler was canon because we were worried that Will would be left ambiguous.

Never did it once cross my mind that an unreciprocation story would even be told. Over in the Buddie fandom, we're waiting with baited breath for Buck to have feelings for Eddie confirmed. Once that happens, we won. It's be insane to be like "ehhhhh I don't knowwww maybe it's still only sided" like no. Nobody does that in shows ever. Queercoders don't do one sided, they do CODING without explicit queer representation at all. The losing fans is when you get the queerness involved in the first place.

They lost their homophobic viewers when Will came out already. They would have still enticed people with an ambiguous Will. Hell, the story could have been the exact same but they could have been avoidant in the articles! Keep saying "up to interpretation" and shit! Confirming Will's feelings is confirming willingness to make original make characters queer in the first place. That was the barrier. My concern was that Mike was acting weird because he had feelings for Will and Will was clearly pining for him but they would never explain or address either. They showed willingness to explain and address. This Mike stuff is just some subcategory barrier people made up after the fact to convince us we didn't win.

To quote Mike himself, it's "just bullshit media propaganda".

Watch volume 1 of season 5 come out with over pining and obvious behavior, even heavy implications from Mike, and people whine and scream that it will never count until their lips actually touch.

We won 3 fucking years ago. It's just bullshit media propaganda since then. I didn't have any doubt until I logged online and was so confused I even had to argue in the first place. I'm just trying to remind you: we've seen TV before, no? They're either definitely gay but nobody says it or they go for it and they are. Not half. Half still loses viewers. Stranger Things is not playing both sides, which means they're playing ours. We knew this. We all knew this before we saw people arguing - you'll notice - always out of personal desire for what the ending is and never out of actual observation.

And here is your final reminder that I was not a Byler shipper when I started thinking they would get together. I realized they'd get together then later realized I liked the idea.

[toruforuu]

gojo satoru x reader || hogwarts au (18+)

wonderwall chp.3 summer’s passing

✼pairing: hogwarts au - slytherin!gojo x ravenclaw!reader

✼summary: gojo satoru, the golden boy of a famous family lineage of wizards sets his sights on you, a half blood defying his pureblood morals. he makes it a goal in his life to make yours a living hell. years of endless pestering, teasing and rivalry stretching out. as times goes on, he finds himself thinking about you more than he isn’t. he grows torn between his family’s beliefs and the forbidden ache tickling his chest whenever he sees you

✼meaning: wonderwall - the person you cannot stop thinking about (song by oasis)

✼genre/tags: hogwarts au, female reader, strangers to enemies/sort of academic rivals to forbidden lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut, pining and yearning (mostly gojo), built up tension, teasing, bickering and pestering, jealousy, slightly spoiled gojo, obsessed and lovesick gojo, both are pretty oblivious to their feelings

✼warnings: discrimination, death, grief, shitty parents, light bullying, mentions of hook ups, sexual topics, family pressure and trauma, mentions of injuries and violence, degradation, mentions of political views, escalating political situation, lgbtq representation

✼word count: 5.4k

✼chapter: 3/?

a/n: welcome and thank you for reading yet another chapter of my story! this one i am rather proud of, so much that it actually left me reminiscing about my prom. lmao, i wasn’t supposed to make myself sad. anyhow, we are finally seeing some significant shift and some corruption of their world. also gojo is kind of a jerk again, yikes

based on this // previous chapter // next chapter

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to playlist

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to vision-board

Gojo Satoru went into your fifth year reminiscing about summer which was very unlike him, hazing about the period of fruition, fulfilment and beauty. The season where you do not have to worry what day it is. A season which never captured his fondness. Was it the lack of simple magic which could be casted from the depths of the organ beating against his ribs with no actual logic behind it? Was it because he hadn’t met anyone worth making summer memorable for? Was it due to the reason it spoke a language he was never fluent in? Or perhaps it wasn’t summer he found himself thinking about throughout his free time which was mediocre at best, but he would never acknowledge that. He refused to.

Time flooded by as the students were sent off home to their families. Summer taking up its usual form of isolation from the outside world. Until one fairy night of June turned into warm July and he and his family were off to attend a meeting held in the muggle world, for it wasn’t a meeting honourable enough to be public and neither within the lines of accepted politics swirling in the wizard world. It wasn’t a meeting you wanted to be caught in by any member working for the ministry as it concerned a horrible scheming which was yet to unfold to the wizard world. The Gojo family was one of the few on the list of special picked attendees, their pureblood linage earning them a place in the gathering evil.

The three of them strode through a less busy street of the capital city where they passed hundreds of muggles hurrying through their own lives who occasionally glanced at the abnormality of their sculptured features, the discarding hardened gazes and actions of the Gojo’s spoke louder than their words ever could. Though Satoru couldn’t care less about attending the meeting, he went to keep his parents at bay and out of curiosity since he didn’t get to visit the human world often. His eyes weren’t as judgmental as his parent’s, he took in the surroundings lightly. The construction of the non wizard world looking plain and flavourless, it wasn’t anything he would admire but it wasn’t something to be hated either.

He was couple of steps behind his parents when his orbs wandered towards the other side of the pavement across the main road. That’s where he captured your frame walking down the bustling street with an older man by your side. He pieced it together quite quickly, it must have been your father. A part of him almost froze at the sight of you being so casual and carefree. It felt odd to see you in your natural habitat. One he wasn’t allowed to be a part of. Yet there you were. Only across the road from him, strolling down the street as ice cream dripped down the curve of your hand. A tote bag decorated with ton of trinkets thrown over your shoulder, bouncing against your hip as you moved. A long white linen skirt reaching down to your ankles, the fabric dangling as the wind-chime breeze hit. Your hair was put together by a clip, messily keeping it from coming undone as your lips moved while answering your father. A soft smile plastered on them — one he wasn’t used to seeing — as you laughed at your conversation. Birds chipped in the background followed by a rustling sound of cars driving by along with a mixture of sweat and citrusy perfume hanging in the air. And you, totally unbeknownst to his presence.

If he hadn’t known, he would never guess you were a wizard like him. It struck him then, you were a part of the wizard world as much as the human one. Something he hadn’t thought of before and it left him feeling somewhat uneasy.

It was his mother’s voice pulling him out of the trance he wasn’t aware he was in, causing his gaze to snap back ahead of himself. She scolded him for not paying attention, demanding an explanation. To which he frowned as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead of responding, Satoru’s head tilted in the other direction to scan the apartment buildings in order to push aside the other need to glide his eyes over to your direction again. Meanwhile his mother scanned you from the corner of her eye after she pointed your father out in the crowd of bodies. His mother didn’t press further, letting it slip regardless of her gut feeling warning her.

The memory of you in your linen skirt — similar to a myth, washed over by a wave of present haunted him. He questioned if it was a mere corruption of his own mind toying with him as he was comprehending whenever you were truly strolling down the street or if you were a creation of his fantasy after he replayed the passing moment far too many times. The reminder of your existence and how little he knew added an ode to his low opinion of summer, he wasn’t a fan of it.

Satoru navigated his free time into another direction, different from what he was used to. Rather than staying at his family mansion and spending the time by himself, he welcomed the society parades and balls his family dealt with and organised from time to time. He wasn’t lazy before, simply had no interest. Yet now, he went out of his way by seeking out distractions, meeting up with friends from school. Friends who grew up in the same aspect as he did, fed with silver spoons and whose families had a similar rank in the wizard society — filling his space with people who didn’t make him wonder endlessly as you did. He allowed himself to be swept off his feet this particular break if it meant he would be freed of the thought of you and your stupid flowy skirt.

You considered you were hallucinating for a good moment that one July evening when you picked upon a flash of artic locks shimmering due to the sunlight in the crowd. However, before you could grasp it as you blinked away the blinding sun, the thought of what you were seeing got lost in the busy street. It left a pang of confusion stirring within you, but you brushed it away as you found it immensely impossible and ridiculous to bump into him out of all people in the human world.

The first week of September rolled around soon enough and the weather turned unreasonably, insistently rainy. The sky turned grey, the air was sharp and chilly and the sun no longer beamed. The rain made the ground muddy instead and so came the bittersweet impatience of autumn again. By then, even the professors knew better than to put you and Satoru Gojo anywhere close to each other. Students from years above and below were painfully aware of your tricks against one another. And those who came quickly learnt how things worked between you. Whenever they saw it play out on the field or in the hallway.

Though the fifth year appeared to be special for one more reason. The Yule ball — an addition of sparkles, warming up the already cheery mood as Christmas was approaching. It was a diamond, casting a bright light over everybody, one so rare it outshone anything unpleasant leading up to it. You saw it as a highlight to look forward to, however, you knew such things could be marked as a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that would be carved to your memory for evermore and passed down. So it too left a sentimental hole in your chest. The moment hasn’t come by yet and you were already missing it, mourning the cruel passage of time.

Originally you looked forward to spending the evening with the three of your friends you gathered throughout the years, amongst them your dearest friend Arabella with whom you share your dorm-room and a set of twin sisters whose hair was the colour of raven’s feathers. Their eyes painted like the depths of the Forbidden forest, their frames enveloped in robes embroidered with yellow as their house was Hufflepuff, making their eyes stand out even further. Turns out life itself had other plans for the four of you. It was you who sort of torn up the first plan apart. Or rather someone else did it for you. And in hundreds of years you would not once be able to phantom a reality where the guy you had a crush on would persuade you too. But here it was.

You had first taken notice of him during practice in your third year. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were on the field together since there had been a mistake in scheduling the accessibility of it. And since then he’s been lingering in your mind, during classes as well as on quiet afternoons. It’s been almost two whole years and you haven’t mustered up the courage to speak to the Gryffindor’s beater outside of quidditch practices or matches.

The turn of events happened on a random Monday morning two weeks before the actual ball. A morning on which you somehow overslept, you never slept through your alarm so it seemed it was scripted for you to bum into the guy you took a secret liking to. You quickly mustered up a greeting as you passed him near the Astronomy tower, rushing footsteps echoing in the hallway. A sound of your name ringed through the walls which put you to an abrupt stop, turning to face the amber eyed dirty blonde beater who made your heart beat quicken with a simple gaze so hearing your name falling from his lips almost caused you an entire heart attack. The conversation was awkward at first as the guy questioned you, subtly suggesting if you managed to find yourself a date for the ball. You were utterly and wholeheartedly oblivious to his intentions so you went through embarrassing comebacks between one another. Until the Gryffindor actually decided asking you directly would be the best option. Seems like he was rather nervous about talking to you as well.

Out of overbearing shock, you stumbled out a question, asking if you were hearing him right. To which he simply laughed and nodded, the sound sending you over the edge as it charmed a genuine smile upon your lips. You accepted and just like that, your life took an unexpected turn you never would’ve seen coming.

Later that same week as the ball keept getting dangerously closer, the white haired Slytherin made sure to stop by and poke you as it was his habit.

“Why sulking? Afraid you won’t fetch yourself a date for Yule ball?” a familiar smooth voice called out which made you stop reading mid sentence and look up from your lap where you had your notes carefully sprawled out. You blinked at him as if to properly comprehend what he said before your brows furrowed automatically.

“I am not sulking, Gojo,” you replied calmly, giddy from being asked out earlier this week, but it still had a bitting undertone to it. He stood still, masked in the Slytherin’s uniform in front of you and your friends, barely sparing them any attention. His hair wasn’t neatly kept, strands of crestfallen hair peaking out of all directions. The green tie on his neck was loosened as he slightly hovered above you, his porcelain skin glowing due to the light casted at him from the nearby window. Iridescent eyes full of mischief and playfulness stared down at you. It was no doubt he was gorgeous. Both of you grew into your teenage features and it served him justice. If only his attitude had been better, possibly then you would bring yourself to admit you found him charming too. In a way.

“As a matter of a fact, I already have a date,” you shrugged nonchalantly trying to appear cool, not entirely sure why you felt the need to inform him on the situation.

“Bet you do,” he snickered, not believing a word you just said and then he was gone as quickly as he spawned. The smallest part of him thought you might be telling the truth, however, he was quick to reject that idea as his chest felt a bit heavier so he rather focused on how he’d mock you when you’d show up unescorted to the ball.

“He will be in for a shock,” the younger of the twins called Beatrice said when the mischief itself was out of earshot and all of you then laughed out loud. You fantasised of countless scenarios on how the ball would go, each one having its significance as well as the moment of truth when Gojo Satoru would realised what you said was indeed true. You were excited to have him disappointed as you would actually show up with a very real date by your side.

“Does he already have a date?” the older twin Dorothy beamed a second later, her voice dripping with curiosity as her gaze followed the boy in the distance.

“Without a doubt,” Arabella chuckled as she cut her down before she could get any wrong ideas.

It was no secret that Satoru Gojo rapidly went up on the scale of swooning the ladies as he transformed into a young man, making him a heartthrob.

He was after all the living legend and the spitting imagine of his father, so it was no-brainer why.

“You wouldn’t go out with him, would you?” your gaze tilted towards the older twin with your lips almost turned downward in disgust.

“I dunno, maybe,” she joked around while somehow still being serious. At that you simply shot her a questionable look, you weren’t able to wrap your head around the fact that not even your friends were immune to his charm. It left you feeling like an alien in an enemy territory

“What? He’s nice to look at,” she whispered in addition, her voice cracking softly with an undertone of dreaminess. To which you only huffed, not wanting to judge her or acknowledge it any further.

For Satoru Gojo it hadn’t come off as grand, the ball was simply a formal occasion he was not too thrilled to attend as he came across countless of the same kind throughout his life. It didn’t cause his days to blend together into a blur like it did for you. Actually, the dazzling wizard found himself fixated on the summer’s passing and hyperventilating over his newly discovered sense of emotions and their unknown meaning rather than a dumb ball. By that time he was all too familiar with the tingling feeling enveloping his chest whenever someone struck up a mention of you in between sentences. It wasn’t normal, something he definitely shouldn’t be feeling for someone like you. He sensed it creeping over his shoulder within the first weeks of school as winter approached. It evoked fear and swirled his emotions into a denial, refusing to put a label on the gnawing torture, choosing to stay oblivious to it all.

His two friends whose parents knew his talked him into going out to the small village of Hogsmeade on a random Saturday morning. It was the weekend before the special event which caused the entirety of Hogwarts to go a tad crazy. So it was no wonder the place was jammed, when he and his peers busted through the wooden door leading to one of the most popular pubs, as it too was only a week before everyone would depart home for the winter break.

Satoru’s gaze briefly glided over the space as he and his friends immediately went in to order at the main desk. As they waited for their order, he leaned against the bar with his elbows while chatting up his friends as well as greeting everybody whose face resigned a hint of recognition. At one point his eyes caught yours on accident, you quickly looked away into the remains of the butter-beer you were sipping on and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him.

You weren’t alone, you and the three other girls whose names were short-lived in his memory sat in the very corner of the busy place. His gaze stayed firm in your direction, pondering if you would give in and look his direction one more time. He opened his mouth about to point you out teasingly to his friends, a grin forming in the corner of his lips but the words died quickly on his tongue as the alluring presence suddenly seemed to radiate off you, the one he couldn’t cipher out.

He bit down onto his tongue, his lips sealed to keep your presence a secret from his company, deciding to leave you alone for once. Then a small soft huff identical to a smile painted his expression. He felt a nudge in his side then which forced him tear his gaze away from you, the hint of a smile dissolving.

Just this time, he thought to himself as they walked away from the bar with their order. Sitting down at one of the tables on the other side of the packed place, not daring to let his orbs wander towards you again.

Your heart drummed against your ribs, afraid he would come crashing down your little circle. A flash of relief pierced through you as the ball of white fur disappeared somewhere out of your eyesight.

The actual ball itself arrived along with the end of the week, an ending closing up yet another chapter of the school year. The Great Hall took an unusual shape during the Yule Ball. Adorned with shimmering icicles and twinkling fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. The hall was transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with elegantly draped banners and a magnificent ice sculpture centerpiece. Trees were nestled at the end of the long room, draped in snowflakes and Christmas decorations. The long tables were lavishly set with festive treats, while the magical atmosphere beamed with floating candles that illuminated the joyous celebration. And despite the cold outlook of the space, it brought nothing but warmth into the hearts of all present.

The celestial eyed wizard chose a tailored suit featuring a sleek silhouette which radiated elegance, making it perfect for a grand ball such as that. He planned on wearing something less fancy as he did not care much for the occasion, however, he was convinced by his date to switch up his original idea. The rich navy colour enhanced his features while the finely stitched details and classic lapels ensured a polished look, serving his high rank.

He was dragged by his date into the hall earlier than he would’ve liked, being one of the very first ones to appear. Satoru Gojo used that time to converse with his friends rather than the date he tagged along with him. She was in the same year as the both of you, sharing his house and more importantly belonging to a pureblood family. She was someone his parents would approve of, maybe that’s why he chose to go with her. Not that it was of any significant, he didn’t plan on keeping her around for long. Other than that, she was beautiful. Shiny jet-black hair, crystalline eyes. Slender and tall figure.

The ball was about to be marked as started by the headmaster any moment and his grin widened as he figured you were too embarrassed to show up without your imaginary date in the end. Sense of victory coursed through his veins, yet it was quick to deflate when a group of people hurried through the decorated wooden door hanging open at last second. Seven figures making their way inside with quick steps. His eyes first registered the pair of twins rushing in with their partners at the front of all the other people, then it was Arabella whom he noticed lingering behind them. He pointed you out the last as you were hidden by your friendly gathering, on purpose almost. He felt as it were July again, that one particular evening in which the weather was a bit too unbearable, and he saw you living your silly life in the streets of the capital city. Satoru remembered it vividly, you walking down the alley with your father.

Wait. He counted seven people.

He focused his sight properly, only then noticing your arm was interlocked with another. He did not appreciate how his chest battled a new unfamiliar tightening. His trance was altered by the sudden stillness of movements, everyone turning to face the headmaster. So he did the same.

The headmaster welcomed each student, wishing all a pleasant evening and nice holidays. Satoru didn’t listen, he couldn’t give a damn about a supposedly heartfelt speech which probably remained the same for centuries. A sense of urgency embodied him, eyes peaking into your direction. Capturing your beautifully dressed presence as well as the presence of your date. Of course he knew who it was. A face he saw pretty often while up in the air on his broomstick, a face he hadn’t felt like acknowledging too much. Till now.

The night went two opposite directions for you.

You were ecstatic as you couldn’t picture the night being any more perfect. Surrounded by friends, enveloped in arms of somebody for whose attention you longer for. And for the first time in eternity, your rival’s presence did not tickle you insufferably against your will.

You stood by the ridiculously stretched out tables in your dress while nearly tearing up at the headmaster’s speech. Your dress was crafted from ethereal blue tulle, set with a cascade of silver sequins that danced like stars in the night sky against the fabric. Each sequin caught the light in a different angle, charming up a touch of awe to your presence. The delicate layers of tulle added a whimsical silhouette to your frame, perfect for twirling under the soft candlelit glow. The dress too featured a fitted bodice that accentuated your waist, while the flowing skirts still allowed you to move gracefully without any trouble. Your neck was decorated with silver jewels borrowed from your mother, crafted with perfection in the human world.

The first stop of the night was a feast where you had multiple options to chose from. It took up at least an hour and a half, the hall filled with laughter and pure carefree demeanour as tunes of violin echoed through the wintery hall. The seven of you remained seated long after you finished gobbling up dinner. You filled your time together with chatter, getting to know each other. Especially you and your date. You worried at first that your conversations would be awkward and shallow, yet it reflected in the opposite way, catching you by a surprise. The flow of the conversation was smooth with no unnecessary pauses nor fake laughter. It felt natural and you could sense your heart melting into the shape of his palm.

The dance floor soon filled with couples. You gracefully accepted when your date offered you a dance with a mere charming hand gesture. You picked up your skirts, allowing him to guide you to the dance floor. Your insides nearly exploded from bliss as your hands collided together, his grip securing your upper hip in a formal manner along with your hand landing gently on his broad shoulder. You stood close to the other, bodies couple of inches apart. The world around you two was put to a pause, your eyes glued to each other and God, your cheeks started to hurt from how much you were smiling at that point.

And for the first time you were grateful to your father who was the one to teach you those basic steps of waltz, saving you from embarrassment.

Couple of meters away from you was Satoru, swaying his body in familiar steps of waltz in synchrony with his date. His hand lazily draped over her hip as his gaze nearly shamelessly wandered, flickering towards you each time an opportunity opened. The organ granting him vision glided over your frame, capturing the way your limbs moved — casting an illuminating strings of dazzling sparks, the sequins sewn to the fabric of your dress to praise for that.

You danced till your feet felt sore and your throat dry. You excused yourself then and headed towards the table with the non alcoholic punch, filling your own glass with the red-ish liquid.

“Got a spare one?” the voice of your friend Arabella called out from behind your back. You instantly handed her a cup you had just filled with a hint of smile, nodding your head for her to take it. And when she did with a sliver of hesitation, you filled up another for yourself.

You both sipped at the punch while standing by the side of the dance floor, sugary taste lingering in your mouth.

“You should ask her for a dance, she’s all alone now,” you spoke as you shot your glance towards the girl on the opposite side of the dance floor which was packed with people to the brim. Then you hazily turned to your left where Arabella was standing beside you.

“I don’t know, Y/N, it doesn’t seem like a good idea,” she replied nervously, shaking her head and fiddling with the glass in her hands clumsily. She barely looked up from the ground, refusing to meet your understanding gaze. You could only smile at her attempts to hide her frustration.

“You’ll never know if you won’t try, Ara,” you leaned in closer to her, gently placing a hand on her upper back, your voice dropping an octave causing to sound more like whisper due to the vocal music blasting.

Her body remained still, taking small shaky breaths.

“Go!” you encouraged her one more time, squeezing her flesh lightly to send her off. To your upmost surprise she barged into the pack of bodies, pushing to the other side with fierceness you rarely saw in her. As a good friend you watched over her, it was hard to map out the situation as people dance, blocking your vision of her. Your heart pumped in your chest, praying she wouldn’t be let down.

And you could relax seconds later when the dance floor was awarded with one more pair. You felt giddy for the success of your friend, sending her thumbs up as well as nodding your head proudly in approval.

Meanwhile Satoru and his group of misfits sneaked outside the Great hall to the courtyard right outside the main entrance. The cold immediately kissing his cheeks, causing them to flush pink. He and his group of friends, including his date, leaned against the stone railings and used the pillars as a cover in case some authority decided to check the outside as well. One of his friends revealed a bottle of alcohol hidden safely under the wing of his jacket. So they began passing it down between one another, the chilly feeling in his bones soon replaced with warmth rushing down his throat and spiking straight into his system. Couple of mindless mouthfuls later and he was done for.

He stumbled back inside when you were still finishing up your glass of punch, eyes steadily checking up on your friend. Unfortunately for you, the table with the punch lingered near the entrance so it wasn’t hard for him to depict you from the rest.

“Honestly? Thought you knew better than to go after someone like him,” he mumbled with sheepishness etched into his features, his usual straight posture slightly slumped and lips smudged with pink lipgloss. And it became obvious very quickly that he was under the influence, the sight of him sickened you more than usual.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked rather confused, taking a step away from him as his breath carried an essence of the substance.

“You know exactly what I mean,” the virtue himself slurred the words out slowly, looking disheveled which you never expected him to be since he looked after his imagine quite well till now.

Satoru Gojo might have not acknowledged your date much before-hand, however, he had a box ticked when it came to the guy. He was the same as him. In a sense he couldn’t put to words at that precise moment and it scared him, knowing you trusted him.

“You’re insufferable,” you hummed with a light shaking of your head, crossing your arms on your chest as you gripped your glass tighter, overcoming need to splash the sweet nectar in his perfect face swallowing you.

“You can’t let me have night for myself, can you?” the sound of your voice jolted him back to reality regardless of how unpleasant your tone pointed at him sounded.

“Just looking out for you, sweetheart,” Satoru chuckled, flashing his boyish features. The sugarcoated nickname didn’t escape your senses and neither did the colour pink painting his cheeks, the alcohol to blame this time.

He made you feel utterly stupid.

“I have things to do, so excuse me,” you breathed out heavily after a pause hung between you for an awkwardly long time as his behaviour put you at loss for words.

“Surprised someone even went out with ya,” he admits as if it were the most obvious thing while scanning your eyes. And you wished it didn’t mean anything to you, you didn’t want his words carrying meaning. Yet, it cracked your heart a little as he spoke the words into the open.

It was not anger nor irritation which bubbled in your stomach, it was dejection.

“Go to hell, Gojo,” you uttered the words bitterly before disappearing into the dance floor, leaving him to fed for himself. And once again, Satoru overcame his inner battle of emotions causing what he did best.

Malice. The only way he knew, only one he learnt.

The short-lived interaction caused the joy of the event to be plagued, leaving its unforgettable mark behind. You continued to sway your hips to the music, you laughed again and again at the stupid jokes your date cracked to cheer up your gloomy mood, you patiently listened to Arabella’s rambling about her conversation with the girl she had her eyes set on for quite some time. And in spite of that, nothing could make the strange heaviness disappear from nestling in your chest, his intrigues stealing part of the magic. Ruining the night’s sweetness.

Perhaps it would ease your mind to know the rest of the night went even worse for the popular prodigy. He went on ignoring his date, paying attention to his friends and their rather pretentious attempts at embarrassing themselves. And when he turned to face the girl beside him about to ask her if she wanted to get out of there, she was nowhere to be seen.

Leaving him to his drunken bereft and reeling.

On the other hand, you ended the night on the same note you started it on as you soon enough found yourself preoccupied with presence of your friends as well as your date.

By the end of the ball, glitter was sprawled on the floor as you sat at one of the tables, accompanied by your friends. Arabella was lying down on the table, cheek pressed against the wood while her mouth remained slightly parted as it was well past midnight, the winter break starting. She was dozing off and you couldn’t help but admire the fleeting moment. Forgotten pair of shoes thrown under the table. Last couples dancing to the slowly dying instrumental music. The chatter getting more hushed and careful with most of the people already gone.

You yearned for the ability to freeze time so you could drink the moment into your memory. Those moments. Our lives are made up of a series of moments. If one is lucky enough, they’ll get hundreds, even thousands of them. Small moments. Moments when you’re doing something so mundane you aren’t realising you’re in a moment. There are also big moments, such as this one. Some are life changing moments, we have less of those than we are aware of. And precisely those will be in your mind for awfully long time.

Keep them all safe, you heard your mother’s voice ringing in your ears and you could simply smile.

Because this was one of those moment.

credits for dividers: [@enchanthings-a @cafekitsune]

[whispersoftheton]

Hello!

Do you think you could write an anthony x reader angst turned fluff/smut fic?

They’ve married out of duty but both have feelings for each other they refuse to admit

Hi! This is also my first fic for this fandom and I got kind of carried away with it, hope you don't mind :) Thank you for requesting btw <3

dont worry the next request i post will have smut in it and im posting that one this weekend >:)

Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Warnings: reader and Anthony are married, pining, death of parents (reader), angst, kissing, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.4K

The day dawned crisp and clear, sunlight peering through the flowing curtains and illuminating your path along the long hallway of your lavish home. The sounds of maids bustling through the estate and the gravel crackling beneath the horse's hoofs from outside filled your ears. Your mind raced with the many tasks at hand for today as you straightened out your dress. The last ball of the season was a significant one indeed, and you had the honor of hosting it tonight. The last few days were filled with overseeing that every detail of the evening, no matter how small, was managed and executed perfectly. 

As the maids fetched accessories and floral arrangements for you to approve ahead of the festivities, you pondered how your life had drastically changed. A mere three months had passed since your wedding day. Still, it seemed a lifetime ago. You had every reason to be happy, you had married well, living more than comfortably, and your husband was not unkind towards you like others you've heard about. But your marriage to the viscount wasn't exactly the love story of the century, to say the least. 

After the passing of both your parents, Lady Danbury had taken you in as one of her own. Raised you to be a lady of society in every way she saw fit and even sponsored your coming out last season. The very same season, the Queen appointed you as her diamond. Not long after, none other than Anthony Bridgerton set his sights on you, surpassing any honorable suitor that even thought about appearing at your doorstep. The entire courtship, along with the proposal, felt purely transactional. Anthony berated you with questions, encounters feeling more like interviews than any courting you were used to. It was not as if you were not attracted to the man if you were being entirely honest with yourself; you'd spent the better half of your time bottling up whatever it is that blossoms in your chest when he is near. And you hated yourself for it. For feeling something you couldn't even name for a man who treated as nothing more than an object. Every public outing where he was caring towards you, even kind and every bit of charming you could ever hope for, raised your hopes high only to see them crashing down at the indifference towards you the moment you were alone without the peering eyes of the ton on you.

Your wedding and honeymoon came and went in a blur. Not even able to consummate the marriage properly due to an argument that left you both enraged and unable to look each other in the eye in the days that followed. The following months were a string of simple greetings in passing and only speaking to one another when absolutely necessary. The empty house you now lived in was becoming your own personal void without so much as the company of your supposed husband.

"Viscountess Bridgerton, are you alright?" Your maid questioned as you snapped out of your haze and directed your attention back to the bouquets before you.

"Yes, this one will be lovely for tonight, thank you." You made your final decision as Anthony strolled into the room. Your maids quickly making themselves sparse, leaving the two of you alone.

"My family should be arriving any second; I assume everything for tonight is in order, is it not?" The underlying sarcasm and questioning of your ability as the lady of the house crawled right under your skin, any lingering feelings you had been contemplating only a moment ago for the Viscount gone in an instant at his distasteful manner.

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton." You replied dryly.

"Dear, we are married and have been for some time now. I would very much like it if I did not have to tell you to address me by my first name while we are in our home." You audibly scoffed at his command while standing from your seat.

"And I would very much like it if my husband would not treat me as though I do not exist." You snapped. Anthony's jaw clenched as he tensed before you. "Seems like neither of us shall get what we want. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have some preparations still pending for tonight. I am sure you can see your family to their rooms for now." 

"Now, you will not even greet my family. Do you have a distaste for them as well?"

"Never. I adore your mama and siblings as if they were my own." Anthony searched for any sign of deceit but instead found honest eyes staring back at him, making his heart ache. "If anything, I am grateful. Alas, there shall be a Bridgerton in this home I do not dislike." 

Your thoughts betrayed you abruptly exited the room and returned to your bed chambers to prepare for the evening, shutting the door and leaning against it in an attempt to steady yourself. Damn him. His scent blurred your thoughts and inhibited every one of your senses as you attempted to concentrate on the anger portrayed in his words. Instead, your mind wandered to how his white shirt hugged every curve of his chest, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his jaw. It was alluring in the most intoxicating way. You knew you had to compose yourself before the night began; the last thing you needed was to be distraught at your own ball.

------------------------

You stepped into the ballroom in your new dress gown the modiste had spent a significant amount of time making especially for this occasion. The staircase was beautifully adorned with white roses and touches of lilacs cascading down onto the main area. Candelabras and other flourishing arrangements were stationed around the refreshment tables your guests gathered at, and the thrumming rhythm of classical music whispered into your ears as you took notice of everyone enjoying themselves before greeting them. 

Unbeknownst to you, Anthony stood at the opposite end of the ballroom, observing how you conducted yourself gracefully amongst the guests—making light conversations while extending your kindness to everyone. He marveled at your ability to make each person feel as though they had your undivided attention; although he would never admit it, he found himself yearning for that same attention from you.

Early on, Anthony knew you fit all the requirements he had given himself for a wife. Someone honorable and suitable enough to hold the role of his Viscountess. It was precisely why he had chosen you, but that wasn't the only motive. You were the only lady's company outside his sisters; he did not particularly hate. Every potential partner he sought that season out had come up empty, whether it had been on the conversation or any other unfulfilling matter they discussed. You were different. You carried a conversation like no other, educated in far more areas than he could've hoped for, but none of that quite captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner like your character. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Anthony knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"All seems good with the two of you, I see." Daphne smiled while moving to stand by Anthony as she spoke, breaking his train of thought.

"Good? I do not follow, dear sister." Anthony cleared his throat.

"Yes, good. With the way you were just openly admiring your wife, I assume it is only because the two of you have finally gotten over yourselves and admitted whatever it is you feel for one another." Anthony practically rolled his eyes at his younger sister, beginning to regret ever being forthcoming with her about the circumstances of his marriage early on. "Oh, do not tell me you are still playing this game? At this stage of marriage? Anthony-" She began scolding him, but he interrupted and led her to a more private area of the ballroom. 

"There is no game. We married because it was our duty to do so. Nothing more, nothing less. You will have to accept that, Daphne." Anthony's voice grew stern as he furrowed his brows at his sister.

"And I do. What I will not accept is the way your love for each other goes unspoken when it is clear to everyone around you." She spoke her following words in a hushed tone as to keep anyone who may be standing near from listening to them. "There is no doubt you hold love in your heart for her, brother. But if you do not tell her soon, I fear you will lose her and your only chance at happiness forever." With that, Daphne offered him a soft smile before walking towards Simon, who busied himself greeting Lady Danbury and her mama.

The night went on better than you could've hoped for. The dances and mingling were without a flaw, and even Lady Bridgerton and the Dutchess were quick to praise you on how well everything had turned out. Soon the guests started to filter out, making their way home after a long night of celebration. You strolled over to your husband after bidding goodbye to her majesty the Queen and ensuring everything had been to her liking. Anthony couldn't help but take notice of how stunning you looked tonight. How your dress fell perfectly over your figure, gems scattered throughout to match his mother's necklace laid in the most alluring way on the supple skin of your neck and chest. He was entranced in a way he'd never been before. Perhaps Daphne had been right. There's a sentence he never thought he'd utter, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had let his fears control him for far too long.

You had barely noticed your ring slipping from your fingers to fall at Anthony's feet as you approached him. Both of you leaned down to reach for it in unison, fingers ghosting over one another, making your breath catch and your eyes meet as he placed it upon your finger once again. The intimacy of such a small moment becoming too much to bear far too quickly.

"I must go." You could not bear to withstand one more moment under Anthony's intense glare, the part of you that wanted to finally divulge all the feelings you'd fought so hard to suppress after all this time threatening to break through at any given moment. You suddenly stepped back, picked up your dress the best you could, and walked hastily to avoid attracting unwanted attention from lingering guests. As you paced through the gardens, an overwhelming and uncertain feeling washed over you before you overheard Anthony's steps behind you.

"Why? Why is it that you distance yourself from me?" Anthony shouted in a hushed tone toward you. 

"Me? I am not the one stuffed in my office all day, coming to bed at late hours of the night when I am asleep and gone once I wake. Avoiding me day in and day out as if I am a plague to you." Tears welled in your eyes, making Anthony's breath hitch. He could not stand to see you like this. Every nerve in his body burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped your lips. "You treat me as though you do not care for me." Your voice was just low enough for him to hear, eyes cast downward, unable to give him so much as a glance through his silence. 

"Do not care for you? It is as if I am being consumed when I am with you. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second. And when you are near me, it is positively intoxicating in ways I did not know to be possible." Anthony stepped cautiously toward you, fingers ghosting over your cheek, eyes dancing along your features with adoration filling them. "I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you."

"I love you too." A sob wracked your chest as you responded without hesitation. The reflection in your eyes conveyed the devotion and tenderness he yearned for. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. As your husband.

Your heartbeat quickened as Anthony stepped close enough so that your noses practically brushed against one another—a familiar desire spreading from your heart to your chest.

Anthony cupped your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Chills spread along your skin at the warmth of his touch. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Anthony unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I would marry you again if I could. Do it all over from the very beginning." His voice slightly wavered at the sentiment; it suddenly weighed on him how much he truly meant it. He wished nothing more than to turn back time and love you the way you deserve from the very beginning. Things would have been so different.

"Anthony, you do not need to embellish. We already married." A chuckle escaped you, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "What?"

"You called me Anthony." 

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[milessunflowers]

Basically reader is head strategist for Mercedes and personally taylor made the strategies for nico and lewis but their fighting is disrupting the statistics even though he's trying to give them the best he can, reader is deeply in love with his bestfriends but neither lewis or nico seem to notice admits their friendship turned almost relationship turned bitter rivalry, its the year before nico wins his championship and its announced that reader is moving to another team (redbull maybe? Or ferrari so its angstyer when lewis moves there) anyway fast foward through out the year its been a grueling battle to win between lewis and nico that nico realizes that they haven't talked to reader since half way into last years season when nico finds out that reader moved teams he's rocked with devastation, anger, grief and a realization that he and lewis are the reason you don't talk to them anymore nico tries to tell lewis but he's just like 'so what? I'm still going to win' and nico stares at him in astonishment not recognizing his former bestfriend and would be lover, flash over to after nico wins the championship he announces he's going to retire before trying to contact reader which reader ignores for six months (lewis is ignoring the lonely feeling in his chest) before he picks up the phone and before nico can talk starts to rant about how reader just wants them to leave him alone that while he loves them and that while he tried to forget his feelings for them he can't but he can no longer be involved in their petty fued, Nico apologizes saying that he's retired and wants to make amends, we then flash foward to the year before lewis wins his seventh win, lewis has seen reader around the paddock but hasn't been able to get him to talk with him lewis has also seen the way nico has cozied up to reader (reader and nico are in a relationship, not that anyone knows that) anyway lewis tries to be friends with reader again (and Definitely more) but reader avoids him which leads him to talking to nico and Reconciling with him first and then with reader (all three of them just having these dinners at restaurants so they could have the closeness they had when they were younger) it takes lewis till 2023 (3 years basically since he won his 7th in 2020) when max wins another championship to both figure out nico and reader are in a relationship (got together 2018) and to realize he's pining for them both (again) cue awkward lewis being given advice from george, who directs him too lando, on advice on how to ask two people who are in a relatioship out (some side george x alex x lando or maybe oscar x lily x lando) anyway lewis asks nico and reader out in winter break where their caught by the media, before that though reader explains to lewis that before he fixed their friendship reader was really hurt that they would put racing over each others lives and that while reader and nico love lewis he needs to promise to that he won't put racing above their relationship and that after 2025 he'll retire wether he wins the championship or not, lewis agrees quickly afraid they'll take it back saying that he felt it was going to be his last year anyway, it ends with lewis winning 2025 and kissing both nico and reader after the last race and announcing he's going to retire.

Holy shite i got really into that, i'm so very sorry, if its too long please just say so.

–🍑

peach i am in awe. this is just, holy fuck

lewis hamilton x race strategist!male!reader x nico rosburg

synopsis: it took them too long to realize how badly they messed up. good thing you are forgiving.

author's note: holy cow this got really long but peach, the details, all of it, was just amazing. you're so creative 🫶🏻 i am living for all this. i did slightly change somethings, i hope you dont mind! feel free to keep requesting!!!

it started out well

like really well

your strategies worked amazing, the boys were performing well

then it went to shit like most things

they started this bitter rivalry that made little to no sense to you

for a while, you thought it was your fault

maybe your stats and strategies weren't right

maybe you weren't doing good with you job

you thought that up until ferrari offered you a job as head strategist

thats when you knew it wasn't entirely your fault

you took the offer proudly

thats when it hit nico how much they took you for granted

you thrived in ferrari while nico and lewis were still fighting with each other

you distanced yourself from that and instead focused on your new job, where you were surpringly happy

like happier than you had been at mercedes (even if lewis and nico weren't there)

it took nico almost a full season to entirely realizes that him and lewis hadn't even attempted to talk to you since they team move

that hit him like a truck

he felt guilty, him and lewis both

they just show it in different ways

once nico finally wins his wdc, he is happy, just not as happy as he would've been if he were still close with you and lewis

he announced his retirement and almost immediately went to reconcile with you

he didn't want to keep things in deep shit with you

he missed you so so much

your smile, your laugh, just you in general

it started slowly with small talk over text before nico just finally apologized for absolutely everything, from essentially blaming you for his rivalry with lewis to ignoring you for almost a year

you apologized for ignoring him too and distancing

from then on, you guys talked every single day

day in and day out

every free minute you two had was spent talking and hanging out

slowly, you guys admit how long you have loved each other for a long time

then boom, you guys got together

but you kept it a secret as you wanted a quiet (or as quiet as possible) life

you still worked hard on strategies

nico was amazing at reporting

you guys were happy together

skip forward a good few years and lewis is so close to winning his seventh wdc

he finally seems to notice the small signs that you and nico were together

that empty feeling returned

he was missing a part of himself without the two of you

he slowly starts to piece together the big puzzle

first with how you and nico seemed to gave been a thing for a while

then how much he missed you guys

then the deep rooted feelings he pushed aside for far to long

then the realization of just how much he need the two of you in his life

he immediately started building up this huge, elaborate, straight from the heart, apology speech he would tell you when he got you guys alone

he already had a plan set in his mind

then he realizes he actually has zero fucking clue what the hell to do

so he goes to the only person he knows that knows anything about this type of situation: george mother fucking russell

of course, george's situation is a little different

he started dating alex first then they basically accidentally added logan into the mix

but the three seemed to be happier than the majority of the people he knew

so he had to take a shot at asking him

turns out, george gives pretty decent advise

so, before going on the date, he needed to patch things up between the three of you

george's words not his

but that's what he does

he convinces both you and nico to talk with him (even brings roscoe because who doesn't love the little chunky monkey?)

you each take turns explaining how you felt

you kick started it by talking about how hurt you had been, not only as a strategist but also they're friend; how you felt like you were to blame for everything; how you didn't feel like they wanted you around anymore

nico already knew all this stuff but he still felt incredibly guilty

imagine how lewis felt

then nico explains how isolated it felt, losing the two people he loved more than anything; how he was so focused on winning that he forgot what was important

for once in years, him and lewis were on the same page

after hours of apologies, catching up, and eventually confessions, things were back to how they used to be years ago

skip to the winter break where you felt like you guys no longer had to hide

you were caught by fans at a restaurant, sharing laughs and some kisses before leaving back to the car, huge grins plastered across your faces

these pictures are posted everywhere

no one is surprised though

ferrari had to have some words with you about pr, same with mercedes for lewis and then sky sports for nico

once again, yall didn't care

skip forward again to lewis announcing he is gonna race for ferrari

bro didn't even tell you and nico

he was just like: "oh by the way-"

you were excited

but you made a deal between the three of you that you would retire and lewis would, regardless of the outcome of the season

the season went well, not exactly how you wanted it but still good enough

your retirement set for the end of the season was announced pretty early on

lewis's was very nico core

just dropped the bomb after the last race

where he just so happened to both you and nico in public

even though he had done it tons of times before

it was still surprising though

suck on that fia

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile

[mulberrymyrtle]

THE CHALLENGE

ONE-SHOT (PJO x reader)

pairings : (slight will solace x reader) (slight nico di angelo x reader)

SUMMARY :

In a spur of typical ADHD indecisiveness, you challenge Clarisse La Rue to an archery competition to “heroically” save the new camper.

One thing – you have never held a bow. Actually, two things, your only experience in firing something are online shooting games you were obsessed with before you came to camp.

Third thing, you aren’t claimed. So, here you are – prepared to face another “dunking” your head in the toilet cliche.

a/n : very short, spur of moment! so don’t expect something really good.

warnings : reader may use gaming terms? also to people who do archery, I apologize for inaccuracies , this is something i thought up quickly!

The snow that elegantly bows down the ground is a sight you’ll grow tired of, soon. However, with the steaming cup that flows within the air and the warmth that Will gives you when winter enters is a feeling you’ll miss, forever.

Camp has once again been shrouded in the comforts of winter, the cold shifting in the bodies of those unprepared. The piling of jackets and puffers that the Aphrodite cabin have been handing out to the shivering campers paired with the Apollo kids carolling at the early of night – the shaking of tambourines and bells ringing through your earmuffs. The grassed terrain is overfilled with litters of soft snow that squish under your boots, a satisfying crunch heard in every step. Internally, your mind is wrapped around fleeced and heavy blankets that snug comfortably in warmth – winter is here, and it’s a time where you have peace. 

Unlike the previous seasons, where in Summer – Percy Jackson changed the whole trajectory of peaceful camp life. His forbidden nature of a child of the Big 3, the prophecy, the betrayal of Luke and of course, you can’t forget that damn pine tree becoming Thalia. It was a compilation of events your brain always wants to etch out. It gives you enough headaches, you swear that both the Hephaestus and Apollo cabin have to be in an alliance to either heal or re-work your memories.

“Thank Olympus, hope no one’s gonna ruin Christmas,” the fog that erupts from your mouth makes you awe, playfully mixing in with the steam of hot chocolate.  

You hear the laugh of the boy beside you, his bright eyes squinting at your words. “Don’t say things like that, you’ll get jinxed!”

“Will, c’mon you seriously can't believe what Travis has been saying,” you huff, a nudge to his shoulder. “Not everything has to be jinxed, let camp be peaceful for once!”

The look Will gives you is half-turned smile, blonde curls shaking as his disagreement is obvious. “No no, when has camp ever been peaceful?”

That question makes you think, a little yeah, your right erupts from a slight whisper.

With the slight admission, he raises his brows – warm laughter once again emerging from his throat. “Told you! Have you seen my half-siblings running around the infirmary?” His fingers pointed at the unusually packed line that was held within the rather run-down building. Following his direction, you find Lee Fletcher bouncing around and talking in everyone – voice echoing. You flinch a slight bit, the nagging from his mouth reminiscing you to the times you wound up there, a bandage stuck to your head and ambrosia sticking to your taste buds.

“Well…” trailing off, the mug nestled in your hands – an idea popping in, a new way to battle Will’s words. “Well, that’s like normal – it’s practically peaceful enough…” 

You see the twist in his face, which makes you have to explain yourself even further. “I mean like, peaceful like when not faced with pine trees turning to humans, weird threats… that stuff! It’s different, no very- very- ultra dangerous threats!”

“Ahhh,” he finally nods, a cheer escaping your lips. “Guess you’re right, but I did hear news about Percy coming back…” he sighs, a rather big smile on his face. “That means I get to meet this “legend” camp’s been raving about.” 

The news practically has everything in your mind shattered, divided into little minions that scream murder and crowd up your thought process. 

“W-what?!” The growl that manages to bubble up makes Will jump in surprise, eyes wide.

“H-he’s gonna return?” you shake his shoulders, hot chocolate now soaked deep in the snow. The noises that come out are frantic, like an old lady spouting crazy visions paired with whined moans like a toddler not getting their sweets. “You’re joking!”

“I heard Chiron and T-thalia talk about it,” Will tries to tell you, but the constant shakes spurs his speech – bubbles of thoughts entering your ears. He gently grabs on your face, patting it to stop. The assault (and the warmth, unknowingly) has you slow down your movements, a more rational thought entering your frazzled state. He still holds onto you, and in a brief shared glance – a gentle gaze deep into yours. Your mind slowly dissipates, talking in the crisp air, his soft touch, and the snow falling onto your nose.

“You’re good at this,” you hold onto his hands, detaching it slowly – but you still hold on, weirdly enough.

“At what?”

“Calming people down,” you let go of his hands. “Like a healing touch, I guess?”

“Healing touch?” his brows are raised high, “Are you saying that because I’ve been claimed by Apollo?”

“Well, it fits?”

He lets out an awkward chuckle, “I don’t even have any abilities yet!”

“Hey, it’s just been like 4 months,” you pat his shoulder. “You’ll be able to channel some cool Apollo-like things – like… Archery?”

He gives you a disappointed whine, “Look I’ve tried everything, singing –”

“Yeah,” swallowing a lump in your throat, “that was really bad.”

“Oh, shut,” he punches your shoulder, “I’ve done musical instruments, poem writing, and archery yesterday was a big fail!” He buries himself deep in his hands, a sigh lifting from his tongue. “Gods, I'm virtually just a heatwarmer.”

Your eyes soften at his words, rubbing his hands. “You haven’t tried healing yet, right, maybe you’d do good there.”

“But healing’s scary,” he confesses, muffled sounds now on your end. “I see Lee handle that and...” He raises to meet your face, worry seeping through his expression. “I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“Then… “ you mumble off, eyes darting to think of a solution. “Well medic work in the online games I’ve played were simple enough.”

“Oh my, this isn’t a game,” the slight amusement in his tone has you brighten up, “that stuff is automatic, a simple press and they’re healed.”

“Hey hey, I’m trying to comfort you.”

“It’s not effective, I can’t just find some medkits and throw it at someone and hope they’ve been healed.”

“You’re missing my point!”

“That point was?”

You shake your hands around, deflecting the conversation. “W-whatever! I… we can have Lee teach us.”

Hope shines in his eyes, “Us, you mean you’d wanna be a medic too?”

The nod you give makes his eyes sparkle a tad bit brighter, “I mean, I’m unclaimed. So there’s no skill I have, same boat right?”

“Aside from being obsessed with shooting games?”

You push him off the log, “It doesn’t hurt to learn something. Let’s just do it together. Okay?”

He groans from the confines of the snow, lifting your body to kneel over his side – cheeky smile to your face. A hand reaching over to help him up, “You up for it?”

His hand finds yours, a slight complaint from his mouth. “If there’s nothing to do, we can try.”

You bump his head in a lighthearted manner, “Hehe, I can eat the stacks of ambrosia and nectar by the cabinets.”

“Really? I’d wanna try that,” his movements slow, his gaze faced down. “It reminds me of mom's pie,” his voice held longing, seeing how his fingers grip onto his coat.

The tone he had made you pause to look at him, the reality set in despite the air of Christmas that you two confided yourselves in. That even if he was finally safe, in a haven where he had no fear of monsters creeping up to attack him and his mother. An explanation to the massive questions he had about himself – a place where he could be himself, freely. 

It also came with weird nightmares that’d have you stare in the starry sky, the fingers of death coming and closing in at the clock of your birthday, and to spend Christmas without the comforts of someone dear – you understand why his eyes dulled and his smile now neutral.

You stood up, dusting yourself up. “Well,” a rather mischievous look covering your features. “First to go there can eat it infinitely, losers only get a small bite!” with a head start, your feet dash along the path towards the infirmary. 

The cold air filling in your lungs, yet the running brought intense fire burning – the clash of these feelings made you giddy. Laughter heard between you two, Will’s steps catching on. His voice rumbling and shouting the words cheater echoed in the seeming empty woods.

The two of you found yourself streamlining through some nymphs playing by the snow, the satyrs hunched around fires, campers rolling snowmans and shooting snowballs. You had to save Will from Katie’s intense aim, her vision automatically thinking you were the Stolls.

“Woah that was a nice headshot,” you awed at her aim, “Better than those online weirdos who…”

“I’m ahead!” Will sings, blowing a raspberry to your way.

“H-hey no!”

Then you passed by the arena, hearing the clash of metal and taps of feet moving synchronously. The slings of arrows warping through the air heard within the distance.

It’s just a normal camp day, free from fear, from monsters.

It was a day where campers could be free from their obligation, the burden of being a demigod lifted for just a little second —

“Oh–!”

You tumbled down the snow, rolling down a hill, the weight on top of you has your breathing choked out. Holding onto the weird pressure tightly – was it a person?

In the disarray of everything, the bundles of white entering your vision, the cut-off breathing, and some guy rolling with you? Your ambrosia and nectar were at stake!

You two crashed on something, immediately pushing off the person.

“What the –?!”

Settling your sights on the boy who lumped against the snow, his face was unfamiliar. He had ebony hair that messily contrasted the white beneath him, his skin tanned, he looked the same age as you – 10. His hands gripped onto a figurine, you see his breathing slowly. In a quick motion, you hovered the boy with concern all over.

“Are you okay?”

With a twitch in his eyes, bits of snow littering his eyelashes. It fluttered open, and he jumped – the figure clutched used to hit your head.

“O-ow!” you staggered back, hands rubbing over the sore spot. “The hell!”

“I-i’m sorry!” the boy says, coming more into your view.

“You better be!” you roar back to him, “Why’d you do that? God that hurt!”

“You looked like a monster, “ he says in a haste, hands playing with his figure. “You know we were just attacked by one – a manticore.” He awes, bringing out a holographic card to shine to your face. “3000 ATK plus you get an extra 5 to save throws, cool right?” 

“Y-you just called me a monster!” you barked out, and though your eyes lingered on the card a bit too long you shook him off. “Look, you need to apologize two times,” you told him firmly, crossing your arms. Scanning him up and down, you figured – he was new. “That was hurtful – twice the pain and now I’ve lost the race against Will!”

He sets down the card, looking at the bruise forming on your skin (and also your heart). Holding his hands together, he mutters in a sincere tone.

“I’m sorry, for all that.” 

Silence overtakes the two of you, your defensive position slowly crumbling down. You stare at the card planted between the space you two had. The intricate designs and the holographic sticker had your eyes entrapped, the anger you also bubbled up because he made you lose the race wilting away.

“The card is… cool,” you mutter, picking it up to hand it over. “What are they?”

His face gets overcome by a toothy grin, seeing excitement threatened to burst out if he spoke one more word. “They’re Mythomagic cards!” he sputters out in a daze, closing in to you.

Before you try to say anything, a rough hand lifts you up by the collar. Then instead of an excited boy ready to say all kinds of things about cards, you’re met with a fuming girl who practically said i’m gonna kill you, kid with no words at all.

With the burly build, scars littered even when the fur coat (that looked like she hunted herself) that hung around her body. Her chopped, but curly strands entered your view and her eyes glinted a dangerous red – her grin akin to boar’s animalistic growl to take down enemies. 

“Clarisse?” you uttered in a meek tone, feet dangling above the ground. “Why?”

“You, you made this mess?” she brings your body towards the crashed crates and archery targets, throat suddenly filled. “You puny lil’ chump making me miss my shot!” she rages out, shaking you with vigor.

“But it was just a —”

“It was a bet for something,” she barked. “A bet for the next Capture the Flag game.”

Oh.

If there’s one thing about Ares kids, they don’t play around with Capture the Flag.

With one swallow of your throat, you prayed to a god and accepted your fate.

“I’m sorry Clarisse,” you begged, her steps dragging you two away. “Please don’t hurt me.”

An evil snicker ruptures through her, bringing you down to hit against the wooden frame of an archery target. With a small, condescending pat – she places something on your head.

“I won’t,” she says pointing to the pack of equally angry Ares’ kids who were stringing bows. “But they’ll help.”

“Oh, I'm just 10,” you cried out, eyes a bit watered.

“And? You need to be taught something —” her words get cut off by a snowball entering her mouth, muffling her speech. Darting to whoever threw it, it was the boy from earlier. Chest heaving as he shouted a quick “goal!” as he rushed over to your side.

But with Clarisse’s booming command the group huddled over and caught him. With new-found rage in her senses, she marches over to him and with a grip so harsh the veins popped out of her hands.

“Y-you! Oh, I can wait to get two lil’ kids knowing their lessons,” dragging him next to you.

“Let us go, you pig!” he lashes out, weak punches on trying to fight back, using his figure as a line of defense.

Picking up the figure, she mockingly waves it around. “Ha, it’ll be fun to make you my slaves.”

You worriedly watched, the scene making your body feel numbed, meant to just watch.

What should I do?

She once again laughs in his face, “Are ya’ new here? What’s your name!”

“Nico!” he shouts to her, trying his best to get it back. “Nico di Angelo – I bet your name is Ms. Piggy!”

You see the boy’s face determined, yet it glints with fear – so different from the happy look he donned. His toothed grin, and rather sporadic bounce was heartwarming.

His first time here and he was subjected to this, your heart dropped at the memories. The times you were new, the same face you shared – begging on your knees with tears streaming down your face. Even if you were in a time of peace now, they’d resurface and the guilt gnawed everywhere.

You didn’t want that again.

You don’t know if you should thank impulsivity for this, but your mouth ushered out words you shouldn’t have said.

“Clarisse! I-i’ll make a bet!” the tremble in your voice, slow steps as you walked towards her. “If I win, you leave us two alone – for a long time. If I lose, I’ll be your slave for everything.”

That makes her smile, dropping the figurine by the snow. Confidence roared through her every move, a scary tilt as she regarded the offer.

“That bet is?”

You swallowed your own saliva, that didn’t really enter your mind – you know what? Go with the flow, you internally told yourself. Taking in your surroundings, the only thing that registered was the fact you were in the archery range. With shaking hands, you grabbed a bow and gave it to her, pointing to the targets.

“It’s easy, we’ll shoot arrows in those three targets continuously, and whoever has the most points – wins.”

She gives you a wide look, “Are ya’ underestimating me? This is light work.”

Taking a good, she shakes her head. “Know what, this just makes it easier for me and harder for you. No need for goodluck,” she chuckles as she takes her position. You find that the archery range has garnered more people, a crowd forming in.

The nerves in your body shout at you, taking the hand of the boy – you settle him there in the bustling chatter of people. He only stares at you, with a gaped look and his hold tighter on the cards and figure he held.

“No worries,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “I-i’m good at FPS!”

“FPS?” he tilts his head, “what?”

“You know, video games…?”

“What? Oh like those arcade things in the casino?”

You give him a confused look, ready to explain before Clarisse calls your attention. There you see her work, and your brain could only burst up in haywire.

The first two, though not perfect, had the arrow shoved up near the target– while the third one nestled an arrow perfectly on the red dot, a bull’s-eye.

She tosses the bow to you, your hands clumsily catching it, a slight off-balance when you stumble. You walk through the crowd – recognizing the Hunters of Artemis who regarded what Clarisse did with impressed gazes. You find Will’s mop of hair, his face etched with concern, god’s they’re watching your demise.

How in Olympus were you gonna do this! The bow in your hands was unfamiliar, if it was a console or joystick you’d bet 20 drachma that Clarisse would be dead – but the actual thing? Oh, if you were in some online lobby you’d be hit with the most creative curses known to man.

However, you looked at the boy – face filled with hope, encouraging you to go on.

So even with the tremble in your hands, you did.

Just treat it like a game.

Just treat it like a game.

The words repeated in your mind, taking position.

Maybe someone took over your body, but the bow felt light – pliable and easy to mold. The string was flexible, following your movements like water. You drew your arrow, perching and fixing it. In your vision, you found yourself in the setting you were used to. The crosshair, the bow – like the gun, you went slow and waited for the perfect time. The arrow stuck to your face, the feather brushing your skin – the crisp wind slithered through your whole being. Removing you of the fear you felt, a quick surge of confidence coursing through. It was your warzone, and you weren’t gonna back down.

This is just a game.

Then you let go, the feather cutting through your cheek. It cut through fast, the bow spun and in a blink —

“Bull’s eye!” a voice says, it’s melodic, maybe someone from the Apollo cabin. But that didn’t concern you, the adrenaline seeped in – grabbing another arrow to nock on the string.

“Bull’s eye again!”

Then the dread came over again, faced with Clarisse’s perfect shot. But you turned back to the expecting crowd, and returned to face the red dot that loomed over you.

“Man, you’re too tense,” a voice rang through your mind, like a gentle whisper. “It interferes with aiming, sometimes all ya’ gotta do is shoot – “

Before camp, online games were your only escape. From the failed grades, the laugh of peers that followed you, and the disappointment that weighed in your whole mind. The feeling of bringing out your anger through shooting online randoms wasn’t the best, but it worked for you. The way you could get control, to feel a sense of victory – and to win wasn’t by hastily shooting the enemies or buying the newest gear.

All you just needed was a quick breather, a calm mind, and to take every chance.

So as you once again felt the arrow cut through your skin, the anticipation danced through. 

And maybe you were dreaming, or maybe some prayers were answered.

But the crowd’s cheering and words behind you confirmed that it was both.

The arrow spun, a fast sling – hearing the loud crunch of wood entering your ears. Seeing how the arrow pierced through Clarisse’s with a split, halving hers to pieces. You find your arrow buried deep in the target, the bundles of feathers placed delicately in the middle.

“B-bull’s eye!”

Then something caught your eye, a soft red glow reflecting off the snow. The crowd gets even louder, their stares looking at something on top of you.

You held a confused gaze, head turning around – you caught Clarisse’s gaped look. The anger seething through her skin, but it wasn’t the usual. It held some respect? Everyone gave you a hard gaze, hearing Chiron’s hooves run through the crowd.

In a sudden movement, they all bowed. You were left to only look up — the red glow surrounded a symbol. It screamed strength, power, fear even if it was a simple spear. Your eyes widened at the recognition, an audible gasp from your tongue.

“Ares,” Chiron said, his voice rigid and filled with respect. “Destroyer of men, raider of walls, master of the art of blood.”

“Hail. (Name) (Last Name), Child of the God of War.”

[highladyluck]

Wheel of Time Season 3 Episode 4 (kind-of-a) Liveblog

FUCK THAT ORB SPECIFICALLY

I think they nailed it.

This is not precisely a liveblog because I'm writing up my thoughts immediately after, but whatever.

My spouse was like 'how are they going to compensate for us having spent less time with the Aiel than in the books, and knowing them less well?' and I think they did a lot to show the stakes of oaths and swords for the Aiel both right before the pillars and during them. I'd be curious to know how it went for non-book-readers!

Some of the mishmash of influences for the Aiel that RJ drew on was aurally and visually referenced in a way it hasn't been previously; the Wise Ones and the 3 silver rings are very aggressively Dune references, but the new stuff includes visual references to Travellers/Roma, Irish accents, and Jewish kippah-esque headcoverings. (Also, as my Jewish spouse said, 'the moving to the desert and then doing war crimes'.) That's only half the stuff that RJ used to make the Aiel, but we kind of already got the Bedouin & Native American influences, and I know there's probably more I'm forgetting. But it's great to see the references spelled out in a new medium.

I also appreciated that the visions were a little more personally emotionally devastating, and tbh given the very late-series developments re: the pillars, I actually think it's ok that Rand got shown stuff from after the founding of Rhuidean, even though it's not strictly canonical. Seeing the immediate aftermath of his birth served an important story purpose and I like that it caused Rand emotional damange. :) It always bugged me in the books that Rand kinda cheats his way through the glass columns since he doesn't have the same cultural upbringing as the Aiel; the trial doesn't test the same qualities or go as hard for him. He's on easy mode. The vision of his parents + the hobbit-y 3 besties addition evoking Mat and Perrin seems specifically designed to increase the psychic damage, which is juicier to watch and makes it more fair.

It made sense that they used Latra as a stand-in for every named Aes Sedai- I forget if that's canonical or not but it makes sense to condense those roles.

I hate how hot the Aiel version of Rand who gets the Sakarnen is. I don't want to think Rand is hot. But that haircut and uniform is really working for me. (Also I love that he's got a boyfriend/husband and did you see their rings??? They looked kind of like the show's Great Serpent rings!)

I love to see the Sharom explode. :D Fuck that orb specifically. Give it the fire exits they never deigned to build in!

I also love how it's really ambiguous whether Mierin actually intended to let the Dark One wreak havoc or not (as it should be!) I lean towards yes, she exploded everything on purpose to serve the DO/herself, but that's my pre-show opinion. She got her Aiel servant out with some pretty portentous words about being with loved ones, and Lanfear likes to say she's strategic about violence (although Lanfear's idea of being strategic or her idea of appropriate violence might not be, uh, baseline.) The big event being supposed to happen the next day is ambiguous- she could have made sure he wasn't inside and then triggered it, or it could have been an accident, either thing is supported. And even the portentous words about being with loved ones could just be her pining after LTT, and that's where all the weight comes from. So I think you can view it either way, and if you come down on a specific side it's because you have a previous opinion/bias one way or the other. Which I think is the right tack for the show to take!

The tattoo materialization was really cool. Honestly, the visuals were very very cool. The pillars were about what I imagined, and I LOVED the silver rings- they were exactly what I imagined and the suspensions were so visually arresting. I wish we'd seen more of the weird semi-AoL-ness of the city, but I'll settle for the Romanesque statue and Avendesora surrounded by like, fancy parking bollards. We already front-loaded the visual modernity of the AoL so it's less necessary to do it in Rhuidean. (That said, I did enjoy the very modern setting where Latra handed over Sakarnen- it looks like the outer edges of a modernist art museum.)

The show did some really effective 'speaking in unison' moments this episode- both the banishing of the dead and the Hirschhorn parking garage oath sounded great, evoked a religious mood, and were genuinely moving.

I also liked that the Laman backstory was shared between Moiraine and Rand- the books never really tugged too hard on the familial connections between all these characters so I'm happy to see Rand reacting to it. It's also funny that Moiraine is the one to steal a cultural artifact from the Aiel* this time, rather than Rand, and that Moiraine gets to get fireman-carried out of the Waste in lieu of Mat. (*To be fair, it did originally belong to the Aes Sedai, so she's not pulling a full British Museum, but my spouse is right that the Aes Sedai are basically the British Museum.)

Again, I think they nailed it and it was a very compelling episode. I hope it wins an award- I'm going to have to make sure I'm a voting member of Worldcon in time to nominate it for the 2025 TV episode Hugo. (2024 nominations are happening soon, or have just happened, I think.)

[whosscruffylooking]

Open Arms Chapter Six

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist chapter seven word count: 4.1k a/n: I've been dying for this chapter to come out! thank you guys for all the support on the story and i can't wait to get into the season 3 rewrite! warnings: lots of flirting and steve pining for reader. vulnerable steve word vomitting his love for reader. If you would like to be added to the taglist please comment below! Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1984~

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The first day back to school since that night at the Snow Ball felt like a new chapter, but also strangely the same. The night had been a whirlwind—the kind of night that changes everything between two people, but with all the excitement and the rush of emotions, neither of you had really had the time to process it. You had accepted it, both of you. The unspoken bond, the undeniable connection. You were together now, but there was still so much left to say, so much to figure out.

But right now, there was no time for deep conversations. Not with the hustle and bustle of the school day, not with the kids around and teachers calling your name. And, of course, there was Steve—his eyes darting to you every few seconds like he couldn’t quite believe that you were finally his, that you were together.

So instead of talking about it, you decided to have a little fun. You leaned against your locker as Steve fumbled with his own, making sure you were standing just close enough to him for him to feel the heat of your body next to his. You could practically see his mind racing, his thoughts trying to settle as you did everything you could to make him squirm.

As you reached to grab your books, you made sure to brush your waist against him slowly. His breath hitched, and you caught the way his eyes momentarily closed, trying to steady himself. You gave him a knowing smile and watched as he tried to act casual, but you could tell he was fighting the urge to grab you and kiss you right then and there.

“Having trouble, Harrington?” you teased, your voice low and playful, watching as he struggled to keep his composure.

He shot you a half-grin, but there was something almost desperate in his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was tight, like he was holding back more than just words. He shifted a bit, clearly uncomfortable with how close you were.

You leaned in a little closer, just for a second, brushing past him as you walked to your next class. You felt the tension in the air, thick and heavy, and you could see him try to focus on anything but you.

“I’ll see you later, Steve,” you said, flashing him a grin, making sure the teasing edge in your voice lingered.

He just nodded, his lips slightly parted, and you could tell he was fighting to hold it together.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself. You both knew what had happened between you two. You both knew what was coming. But until you could have some real time together—just the two of you—you were going to have a little fun and make him feel just how badly he wanted you.

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Later that afternoon, the two of you accompanied Dustin to the arcade. The dim lights of the arcade flickered around you, casting a colorful glow that only seemed to emphasize how effortlessly captivating you looked. Steve leaned against a pinball machine, arms crossed, pretending to watch Dustin annihilate a high score on Dragon’s Lair. In reality, his focus was entirely on you.

You stood at the air hockey table, locked in a heated match with Max, the small crowd cheering as you slammed the puck back toward her goal. Steve tried to keep his attention on the game, but his resolve faltered when you leaned over the table, your shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin.

He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. Every move you made—how your hips swayed as you celebrated a point or how you bit your lip in concentration—was a direct assault on his self-control.

“Come on, Harrington. Pay attention,” Dustin said, nudging him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m paying attention,” Steve muttered, though his eyes betrayed him as they flicked back to you.

You caught him staring and smirked, a mischievous glint in your eye as you reached up to adjust your hair, your shirt lifting ever so slightly again. His pulse quickened. He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the edge of the machine like it might anchor him.

When you finally scored the winning goal, you turned, triumphant and grinning, your gaze finding Steve’s immediately. 

“Looks like you want me to show you how it’s done next,” you teased, sauntering toward him with a confident sway in your hips.

Steve raised an eyebrow, trying to mask how flustered he felt. “Oh, yeah? Think you can take me, huh?”

You leaned in slightly, close enough to make his breath hitch. “Oh trust me, I’m trying to,” you murmured, your tone dripping with mischief.

Steve groaned under his breath, running a hand through his hair as you smirked and walked off to join Dustin at another game. He stood there, completely wrecked, watching you with a mix of frustration and awe. If he made it through the night without losing his mind, it would be a miracle.

Steve came up from behind you, his presence warm and unmistakable as his hand casually slipped into your back pocket. You gasped softly, the unexpected move sending a jolt of heat through you.

“You have no idea how difficult you’re making this for me,” he whispered, his breath brushing your ear, his tone low and teasing.

You turned your head to glance at him, your heart racing, but his smirk was already in full effect.

“Oh, am I?” you teased back, feigning innocence, though the flutter in your chest betrayed you.

“Absolutely,” he murmured, his fingers giving the slightest tug against your pocket. “Keep this up, and I might just forget we’re in public.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and his smirk deepened before he pulled away, leaving you momentarily stunned—and just a little breathless. Two could play this game, and clearly, Steve had just raised the stakes.

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The diner buzzed with the usual Friday night chaos—clinking silverware, laughter from nearby booths, and the low hum of conversation filling the air. You sat across from Steve in a cozy corner booth, the soft light above casting a warm glow over his face. The week had been a whirlwind and life had kept you too busy to really process the weight of all that was said last weekend. The tension simmering just beneath the surface made every shared glance feel electric.

You lifted your milkshake, drawing the straw between your lips with an exaggerated slowness, hollowing your cheeks as you sipped. Your eyes met his for just a moment before you glanced away, letting your tongue flick over your lips to catch a stray drop of whipped cream. The movement was subtle, casual even, but the way Steve’s eyes darkened didn’t go unnoticed.

His jaw tightened, his fork pausing midair before he set it down on his plate with deliberate care. You swirled the straw idly, letting the sound of the ice cream melt fill the silence, and then took another slow, deliberate sip. This time, your gaze lingered on him, and you caught the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table, white-knuckled.

“You okay there, Steve?” you asked, feigning innocence, the corners of your lips curling into a teasing smile as you set the glass back down.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting in his seat like it suddenly felt too small. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too casual, betraying him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the booth with a playful smirk. “No reason. You just seem… distracted.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Distracted? No. Not at all.” His voice was clipped, but his eyes betrayed him, darting to your lips before quickly looking away again.

“Oh,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “just making sure.” You reached for the straw again, this time letting your lips brush against it lightly before taking a slower, smaller sip. “It’s been a long week, hasn’t it?”

Steve’s jaw flexed, his shoulders tensing. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “It’s been agonizing.”

You could feel it in the way he shifted in his seat, the way his gaze couldn’t quite meet yours for too long. His hand drummed restlessly against the edge of the table as if he was fighting to keep himself in check. And you loved every second of it.

Finally, Steve leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as his eyes locked onto yours, heat sparking behind them. “Careful,” he said suddenly, his voice low and teasing. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Me?” you replied, your voice dripping with seductive sarcasm. “I’m just enjoying my milkshake.”

“Sure you are,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in slightly. “But don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing. All week. Every time you’ve done… this”—he gestured vaguely toward your glass, his gaze flicking briefly to the straw—“I’ve been keeping track. You’re not getting away with it.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Getting away with what, Steve?”

“You know exactly what,” he shot back, his voice quiet but edged with frustration and something else—something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could retort, the waitress arrived with a plate of fries, breaking the moment. Steve straightened up quickly, offering her a polite nod and a quick “Thanks,” but the tension between you two remained thick as ever.

“Tomorrow,” he cleared his throat.

You reached for a fry, popping it into your mouth with a grin. “Tomorrow, huh?” you said, your tone light but your eyes glinting with mischief.

“Tomorrow,” Steve said firmly, leaning back in his seat but keeping his eyes locked on yours. “No interruptions. Just us.”

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning in just a little. “Can’t wait.”

Steve’s smirk deepened, his confidence growing as he added, “Neither can I. But just so you know, payback’s coming, and I’m gonna enjoy every second of it.”

The unspoken promise hung in the air between you, the anticipation for tomorrow making every moment of teasing and tension feel even sweeter.

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The end of the week couldn’t have come soon enough. After days of stolen moments and your relentless teasing, Steve had had enough. He picked you up just after sunset, the summer air warm and sweet. His car smelled faintly of the cologne you loved, and the soft hum of the radio filled the silence as he drove. You didn’t ask where he was taking you—you trusted him implicitly—but there was something in the way he kept glancing over at you, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips, that told you tonight was going to be different.

When the car finally slowed, you realized where he had brought you: Skull Rock, the secluded spot near Lover’s Lake where the stars always seemed brighter and the world felt a little quieter. He parked and got out, coming around to your side to open the door for you like a proper gentleman.

“Skull Rock?” you asked, smiling up at him. “Planning to scare me?”

“Not tonight,” he replied, his voice low and teasing as he took your hand. “I thought we could use a place where no one can bother us for once.”

You let him lead you through the trees, the sound of crickets filling the air. When you reached the clearing, your breath caught. Spread out on the grass near the rock was a blanket, a small lantern casting a warm glow over a picnic basket. He’d set up everything perfectly: sandwiches, strawberries, even a small bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked along the way.

“You did all this?” you asked, your heart swelling.

“After all you’ve put me through this week,” Steve said, his voice thick with barely-contained tension, “being so tempting and making me lose my mind… and after everything we’ve wanted, everything we’ve been waiting for, for this to finally fall into place for us…” He stepped even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “We deserve this.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him and resting your hand on his arm. “It’s perfect, Steve. Really.”

The two of you sat on the blanket, sharing the simple meal and talking about everything and nothing. For the first time all week, there were no interruptions. Just you, Steve, and the stars above.

When the food was gone and the conversation lulled, Steve turned to you, his eyes soft and warm. “You know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve been trying all week to get this right. To find the perfect moment.”

You tilted your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “And?”

“And…” He shifted closer, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, brushing your cheek as his eyes searched yours. “I think this is it.”

You didn’t reply—there was no need. You leaned in, closing the gap between you as his lips finally met yours. The kiss was everything you’d been waiting for: soft and slow, yet filled with all the pent-up longing and emotion you’d both been carrying. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as you melted into him, the world around you fading away.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested together, and he let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against your skin. “Took us long enough, huh?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb against his jawline. “Worth the wait.”

He grinned, his eyes shining with a happiness you hadn’t seen before. “Yeah,” he murmured, kissing you again, this time slower, sweeter. “Definitely worth it.”

Steve took a deep breath, his hand holding yours as you sat together at Skull Rock. The cool night air settled around you, but the warmth from his body was enough to keep you comfortable. He seemed quieter than usual, his expression thoughtful, almost somber, as he turned his gaze toward the lake.

“You know,” Steve began, his voice soft but heavy with vulnerability, “these past few weeks haven’t been easy. Honestly? I think the pain I’ve felt is worse than fighting off a bunch of demodogs and getting my ass kicked by Billy combined.”

You let out a small laugh, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, the nervousness in his movements betraying the weight of his words.

“Only you could make me feel so much that it physically hurts,” he chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before. But if it’s for you… it’s worth it. Every single second.”

The silence between you was palpable, thick with all the words you both wanted to say but couldn’t quite form.

Steve broke it first, his voice quieter this time. “I’ve been thinking a lot about those letters we wrote to each other. Back then, it was so easy to pour our hearts out. How did we go from that to having no clue how to tell each other how we really feel?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “I don’t think either of us were willing to risk it as we got older.”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head firmly. His tone sharpened, emotion breaking through. “You’re wrong, Y/N. I’ve been willing to risk everything for you for as long as I can remember. I just didn’t know how to say it. And you know it. But I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I knew it—it feels like it’s always been there.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, his voice trembling. “Maybe it was the night you fell asleep in my bed for the first time and I stayed up just watching you breathe. Or maybe it was that stupid party where we got shoved into a closet for 7 minutes in heaven, and you said you wanted to kiss like we were strangers. I knew we could never feel like strangers to each other though.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t stop. “Or maybe it was the way you’d run your fingers through my hair while my head was in your lap, singing those Journey songs, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Or the time I got blackout drunk, and you helped me shower without a single word of judgment, just because you wanted to take care of me… even when I didn’t deserve it.”

His voice cracked, raw with emotion now. “I’ve been yours, Y/N. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been yours. And the truth is, I don’t know how to be anything else.”

Steve swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground as his voice softened. “You know… after that night,” he began hesitantly, “the first night we slept together, I was ready to give you the world, Y/N. I swear, I was done pretending. I didn’t want to play it safe anymore, didn’t want to keep hiding what I felt. I was ready to give you everything—my whole heart, everything I had.”

His voice faltered, and he ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “And I know we’ve already talked about this—about how much it hurt, thinking you weren’t willing to risk everything like I was—but…”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice trembling. “Those few days we didn’t talk… I couldn’t—” He stopped, taking a shaky breath as he looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I couldn’t breathe without you, Y/N. That’s when I realized I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not mine.”

The rawness of his words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved, his pain and longing so palpable it felt like it might crush you. “I don’t care if it’s messy, or if we screw it up,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I just can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t lose you again.”

It broke you.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, your chest tight with emotions bubbling over, desperate and uncontainable. You move closer, your hands trembling as they reached for his face, your voice unsteady and filled with everything you’d been too scared to admit. “I love you, Steve Harrington.” The words came out in a rush, your desperation bleeding through every syllable. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry I didn’t meet you halfway back then. I was scared, I was stupid, but I’m here now. I’m risking it all, just like you. I’m hopelessly, endlessly in love with you.”

His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours for any sign this wasn’t real, that this wasn’t another cruel trick of the universe. But all he found was you—raw, open, and vulnerable, baring your heart to him. His hands moved to yours, holding them against his face like he was grounding himself in this moment, in you. “Really?” He whispers in disbelief.

“I never stopped,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Not once. And I never will.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling unevenly as your words sank in, their meaning crashing into him like a tidal wave. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, just sat there staring at you with eyes that glistened under the dim light. Slowly, he tilted his head, the weight of years of longing and heartbreak lifting from his shoulders as tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice trembling. His hands cupped your face now, his touch reverent, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful. He blinked hard, his emotions too overwhelming to hold back. “I love you,” he whispered finally, his voice cracking under the weight of the truth. “God, I love you so much, Y/N.”

His body felt weightless, like the ground beneath him no longer existed, like he was floating in the freedom of finally saying the words he’d carried for so long. He leaned his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours as his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping them away.

Steve suddenly stood up, his hands leaving your face as he wiped at his eyes. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what he was about to do. Then, out of nowhere, he spun around and stepped toward the clearing, standing tall and throwing his arms out wide like he was daring the universe to try and stop him.

“I AM IN LOVE WITH Y/N! AND I WANT THE WHOLE WORLD TO KNOW IT!” he shouted, his voice ringing out into the night, echoing through the trees and carrying over the quiet hum of Hawkins.

Your jaw dropped, and for a second, you just stared at him, stunned. But then the ridiculousness of the moment hit you—Steve Harrington, declaring his love for you loud enough for the whole town to hear—and a giggle bubbled up in your chest, slipping out before you could stop it.

He turned back to face you, a triumphant grin breaking across his face as he took in your laughter. “What? It’s true!” he said, shrugging like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“You’re insane,” you managed between giggles, clutching your stomach as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—this time from laughing too hard.

“For you? Absolutely,” he said, stepping closer again, his grin softening into something sweeter. “I’d scream it a hundred more times if it’d make you smile like that.”

You shook your head, still laughing as he pulled you up into his arms, holding you close. “You’re impossible, Steve Harrington,” you muttered against his chest, the words muffled but full of affection.

“And you love me for it,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips as you nestled into his embrace. “I really do.”

Steve looks at you, his eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

His breath catches, and you can feel the tension in the air between you. "Do you remember at the Byers' house when I said there was a lot more I was thinking about doing than just talking with you?"

You nod, your heart pounding, the air feeling thick as you notice the intensity in his eyes, the way his breath comes out in short, uneven bursts.

He licks his lips, a nervous but desperate edge to his voice. "If you're okay with it... I need to do those things now."

A breathless gasp escapes you, your pulse quickening, and without thinking, you nod.

"Please."

A relieved, almost frantic sigh escapes him, “Oh thank God.” In an instant, his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you toward him with an urgency you've never felt before. His lips surging into yours with a force that steals your breath, as though he's been holding back for far too long.

You both sink back down onto the ground. He instantly moans as if every bit of pent-up tension, all the years of waiting and wanting, are finally coming to a head. You arch into him, an instinctual reaction to his cries of pleasure. Stretching your fingers through his hair, you anchor yourself amidst the heat growing in your stomach.

Steve trails kisses down your neck as his arms hook under your legs, lifting you onto his lap. You frantically search for the hem of his shirt desperate to remove any and all barriers from between the two of you. His hands tremble as he helps you remove your clothes. He leans back, savoring the sight of the moonlight dancing across your skin. 

“Did I die a few weeks ago? Because this feels like something I’d only experience in heaven,” he says, his eyes wide with awe.

“You act like you’ve never taken a peek when I was changing in my room….”

“Yes, but this never gets old,” he says, “and besides, I can officially claim these as mine now.” His fingers graze the sensitive skin on your chest. 

He pulls you close, his gaze locking with yours, filled with seriousness and passion. “This isn’t going to be like the first time,” he says softly. “This time, I get to show you just how much I love you. I want to take our time.”

And he does. He worships your body. Steve dedicates himself to every inch of you, not a single area of your body going untouched or unappreciated. His lips sing praises to your name. And as your body writhes under and over him, you sink into the ecstasy that is being in love…in love with your best friend, in love with Steve Harrington.

[dhampling]

the kitchen two 18+, 2.7k

nobody pining over the potwasher with the pretty face and snide tongue, and it feels like such a damn shame.

-

this started as a joke and now you're touching astarion up out back of a pizza express/olive garden/insert generic chain restaurant you both work at.

part one here.

cw: fem!reader x astarion, 18+, astarion is a potwasher, sex, reader smokes, astarion vapes, fingering, frottage, workplace copulation, not beta read, porn without plot pretty much, oh no, not gn reader as tags initially stated because im awful and copy pasted them over

FATTEST THANK YOU TO @bhaalism AND @lipstickghoulie for DEALING WITH ME as always <3

-

“You need to get laid.”

You take the vape from a waiting hand and hold it in your teeth. Feel the ridges where his own have left small indents in the plastic and nestle yours in the shiny crooks. 

“Hm?” 

“You. You’re practically drooling.” He blinks slowly as you look up to the clouds.

“I’m afraid my harem of devastatingly beautiful lovers are all indisposed. On the yacht, obviously.” You pull a face, huffing a long inhale and releasing the smoke in soft stutters. He snorts. 

���Ah. That’s why you reek of hormones, then?”

You smile.

“Probably. New schedule has done little for any conquests, I’ll be honest.”

Astarion takes a moment as you pass him back his vape, flipping it absentmindedly between deft fingers and scrunching his face.

“Unfortunate.”

You playfully slap his arm and he recoils in a brief snarling laughter, ending on some churlish half-smile as he leans back on the wall.

Those fingers. Slender, pale; always moving to some comment or chore with a slight flourish. You note how surprisingly unblemished they seem for his line of work, and the fact you’ve never seen him with hand balm. Even in the low light spilled scarce from the doorway they have a certain sparkle to them. Poise. 

He knows you’re looking, and you’re a little surprised it seems to matter. Coy as he inhales something deep. 

Obviously, it’s a possibility. It happens.

The nature of your work leads to frequent hookups amongst you, as it always has - some incestuous tangle of ex-lovers and yearning hopefuls all weaving the same sticky tables and navigating the age-old sore break-room banter when it inevitably cools between the sheets. Word travels fast, and not one of your workmates has escaped the hated minimum-wage service tradition of copulating with your colleagues in some drunken fumble after a particularly awful shift - but him, though. You can’t say that you’ve put out feelers per se, but his name has never been mentioned - either positively or negatively - on the grapevine, not that you can recall. Nobody pining over the potwasher with the pretty face and snide tongue, and it feels like such a damn shame.

In all fairness, he doesn’t lend himself to open fawning. He doesn’t mingle like the rest do. Never attends the seasonal socials thrown by upper management nor stays after hours drinking with the rest of the kitchen, as if he’d opted out of the greasy workplace ham-slamming ecosystem entirely. 

Above it all. Godlike. You can’t have that. 

You could invite him in, you think, as his head tilts ever-so-slightly toward you in the cool smoke. His nails tap mindless against gaudy green plastic and you picture little but those now-familiar obscene vignettes of him, those very same fingers taking the warm fat of your flesh by the fistful, bending you - pliable in the desperate chase of wanton heat - over the stainless steel of the chef’s station, with a forceful hand to the waist; smushing your face sideways on the counter as he humps you to visceral burning delight over and over, the relentless piston of hungry hips as he pounds into your drooling hole, and;- 

“At least they have each other, I suppose. Aboard that gorgeous yacht.”

Your eyes meet his, a mutual hum. Silence as the rain smatters on gravel.

It’d be easy. Sidle past him through the walk-in door left slightly ajar - vaping, of course; why else would the pot washer be in the cooler? - and feel the looming hope of flesh so close. A crooked smile in silent greeting. Take your time in bending for the lemons, apron ties bowed over your rear as some awful present. He’d never slap your ass so crudely. The lingering want for a tap of flesh, for him to feel the soft jiggle of solid fat on a quick palm; never to move to touch you until you’d made your intentions abundantly clear.

Your intentions.

You could accidentally back up against him whilst still bent and oh-so lost in search for whatever perfect fucking lemon takes this long to find, ass smacking onto his crotch, mouth shaped as an ‘o’ where sudden realisation takes hold, through layers of standard-issue service garb - a barely-there cant of your hips at the surprise friction of his cock. 

He’s been watching. Ogling. Angling himself toward you, as if having pictured how best to bury himself inside you should the opportunity arise. 

Would he grab you by the hips? Take rough handfuls of heated skin and flesh, pull you in to rub over his growing erection with an obscene snarl and heavy lids in a sharp frenzy? Snaking a deft hand down the front of your apron and under the waistband of your trousers, unhurried but firm; searching for the evidence he can practically smell; proof that you’ve been melting, the pool of slick in your panties growing gummy between stolen moments of fantasization on the floor and the molten rumble of low-laughter as he bends you over the mesh shelving, his lower abdomen being thoroughly stickied with a liberal helping of your arousal.

“What are you doing tonight?”

You turn to him with a nonchalant smile and he groans, upper lip curling toward his nose.

“I’ll be here. Same as you, I presume?”

“Not for too much longer, though - how about after?”

Astarion runs a hand through his hair coolly, vape returning to his pocket as he stands off the wall. 

“Not there yet. Who knows?”

The slight of a fox-wink as he twirls back through the door, jacket flaring out behind him before disappearing into the back-of-house once more.

-

Time passes as if stuck stiff under a violent gutter-sun.

The softest visions of him lit by the dented metal of the big old dishwasher, shifting to adjust himself under linens; and after much thought you decide he’d be so very pretty, touching himself something mad. Even more so than usual. Leaky and hot and gasping in mindless carnality under the blacklight of the back bathroom with penis in hand, wincing at the fevered paw moving dumb to offer any relief in his plight. A delicious sigh whilst rolling the hot skin back, bit-by-bit from the tip, working the gathering glisten ever-so-softly over his aching slit in delicate strokes. 

A stolen glance through the service window, through the bumbling hordes in their whites; a shock of silver hair, short sleeves cuffed, brows furrowed as he scrubs at some porcelain bowl with a strange blase determination. 

It’s effortless. He’s not posing, wholly unaware that you’re watching. Scalding from the heat lamps as your fingertips press into the ledge, waiting for plates for one of your tables and teetering back and forth into the gap. He picks another bowl from the crate with a practised hand, tossing it gently into the other and dunking it in the water with finesse. Scrubs. Holds the curving gloss to the light for a moment and narrows his eyes before repeating the process, then loading it onto the dishwasher crate. 

Mindless. 

God. All mindless. You could offer to help him after a busy evening, perhaps; take charge of the pre-wash as he loads the machine, well oiled in your steps as they grow ever closer to one another - surprisingly so, with your lack of practice. Let the hose spray free down your front in a fumble with the pressure lever on the side, and the moment of shock as you gasp; the warm water turning ice cool on your chest, no disguising the quick pebbling of your nipples underneath your sodden underclothes. 

Maybe it’s panic that compels him to dab at your chest with a dry towel as opposed to throwing it to you in a tight-scrunched ball and continuing to load the washer - but maybe it isn’t. 

Maybe it’s something else altogether. Those red eyes darken to a plush carnal smoulder and he tilts his head, begging you to close the gap, to give him permission; to stretch a palm just a little further over to the swell of your breast and cup the soft, heavy flesh through the thin layer of wet cloth.

He’s right, of course. Desperately so.

You do need to get laid.

-

Black sky overhead, speckled with pinpoint stars and laced with the twinge of cold that makes your nose feel funny - and you suspect he’s one of the last to leave this evening, so you wait a minute or two for management to finish their final walkthrough.

He appears with a flourish. Your lean-back on the wall remains as composed as it can as he barrels through the doors, bag high on his shoulder; and begins to fish in his back pocket for his vape.

“Astarion!”

He spins and meets your gaze with a fantastic grin, incisors sharp as his vape meets his lips. You can do this. A quick fuck. Everyone here does it, christ. 

“Yes, love?”

“Have you got a minute?”

“For you? Always.”

Purring. He’s purring.

You wave management farewell as they lock the doors - a small smile, yet you can’t let him slide from you. You can’t let the moment falter. The wet patch in your pants becomes horrifically apparent as you shift from side to side in the cool air, and you surmise that this needs resolving before your humility suppresses the want to have him between your legs - so you extend a hand. You reach for the vape between his lips and you bring it to your own, ever so slowly; holding it between your teeth in a coy stand-off.

“Bold.”

“I’m feeling bold.”

“Oh?”

“Walk with me.”

He offers you an arm in an exuberant display of mock-chivalry, bowing almost; and you take it to pull him closer to your side. 

“You’re in a good mood.” You muse, steering him down the dark alley and toward the main street whilst he sighs a laugh.

“I presume you’re about to buy me a drink, which is always most welcome.”

“I’ve never bought you a drink?”

“The pleasure is more in the receiving of the drink, not whoever’s buying it.’

He turns to look at you while you walk, tugging you closer. 

‘Unless you’d like me to find pleasure in you, my generous benefactor?’

You stop in your tracks, and he grins in place.

‘Because that’s what this is about; isn’t it, little lamb?’

Time stops, signalled by the slow stutter of your heart as his voice drops silken, taking both of your wrists in hand.

‘I can practically smell it, you know.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He pulls a face. Looks at you softly.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Sorry.”

“I won’t pretend it’s not been on my mind, though.”

“Hm?”

Astarion sidles closer, toes touching; breath cool on your cheeks. Mint. 

“Burying myself inside you. All kinds of-’

His hands gesture lightly around his head, controlled as they close in on your face.

‘Wicked images. The things we could do.”

Your eyes flutter closed as he cups your face, lips grazing the edge of his palm.

“I watch you too, you know - oh, it makes me hard just thinking about it. Humping the sink counter like some wanton… bitch;- whenever can I get a moment, just to get some friction, clothes ruined time and time again over obscene visions of myself buried deep inside-’

Takes your chin between pointer finger and thumb.

‘Your. Desperate. Cunt.’

He breathes a giggle.

‘Just as I assume yours are now, hm? Ruined? Oh, the sheer debauchery.”

Tuts. The breeze fades and he comes impossibly closer, hands ghosting the broad of your shoulders then cutting across to the dip of your waist and you inhale and that smell of him. The scent of by-your-side and beleaguered evenings, laced with something heady. Salt. You whimper when you eke the words out.

“You smell so good.” Practically whining, metaphorical drool linking the two of you as if invisible string. A deep beat of laughter.

“Sweet one. So do you.”

His nose buried in your hair, fingers grasping at the warmth of your hips through layers of sweaty workwear. Your core blazes white hot, legs failing you - he’s here. He wants you. God, you’d never thought it’d feel this good, even in your wildest fantasies; and yet you’re standing out in the bitter cold locked tight in by his hands and it exceeds every conceivable outcome for this conversation, ever, despite his cock not yet prodding you once. 

He takes the vape from where your fingers hang frozen and puts it into his pocket, guiding your fingers to the front of his trousers in your obscured embrace and pressing your palm to the front.

Hard. He’s ridiculously hard. Warm and pulsing with strong hips writhing as your hand gives him something to push against. 

“Fuck.”

“Nicely, now.”

His hand moves under your coat and to the front of your own trousers as you feel him through his, scrunching your fingers around his length; whilst he slides deft under the fixings just as you’d imagined he would. Ice to a fire. Moves quickly in the search for your slick like a moth mindless toward a flame, when he finds your slit and takes a single finger to press between your folds. 

“Ah. There she is.’

Your breath catches on his words,  

‘My darling girl, you’re soaking. How long have you been like this?”

“Just today, or on the whole? I can’t remember a time where I’ve not wanted you, not since that first day outside.”

He groans quietly, eyes rolling back into his skull as he coaxes more of your spill forth onto the flat of his palm with a skilled finger toying at the hood of your clit. It feels incredible. Like a warm bath or fresh pizza times a thousand. 

“Did you like the idea of my spit in your mouth, love? Forgetting your smokes on purpose, buying me treats just so you could share? So you could… take me, in your mouth, and wallow in having me there in secret? Bad girl.” A sordid whisper. Heady. Love. Bad girl. You’re struggling for air, newly weakened flesh bowled completely over by his brutal advances, and it’s heaven. You could die here in this alley and you’d be wholly satisfied with life knowing he touched you. He was hard for you, his cock desperately seeking solace in the warmth of your core, to christen your cunt with lashings of himself inside you. Yours. You. 

You thought your resolve was stronger than this. That you could match him in whatever game he potentially wanted to play and do it with flair - but as he stands in front of you, hand crudely down your trousers round the back of your shared workplace; you have no desire to play coy any longer. He’s giving himself to you. 

“Kiss me?”

And he does. A heady drawl as his lips stoop to meet yours, a string of yes-yes-yeses whispered flush into your open mouth as he moves with you, fingering with reverent strokes whilst your hand fiddles hungrily with his underclothes and he laughs with a satisfied ease as if a Roman Emperor, hosting a banquet on the eve of some grand resounding victory. 

Right here, by the bins under the watchful eyes of the CCTV cameras dotted along the brick - it doesn’t work. It can’t happen here. Your brain fizzes all shades of yellow and orange as you take his arm, breaking the open-mouthed kiss with urgency and tugging his head down until his ear hangs dazed a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“Yours or mine?”

“Where’s closer?”

Gravel. Cheeks flushed, hands frisking your waistband once more as you swat him off.

“Yours, probably.”

“You checked the staff files, didn’t you? Naughty thing.”

You huff into a slight hunchback, bemused by his deduction.

“Maybe. Are you mad about it?”

Your hand grabs at his cock through his trousers once more and offers a hard squeeze, a stuttered moan from his mouth.

“Meh. So long as you make it up to me, yes?”

He pauses to press a chaste kiss to your mouth as you both rebutton and fumbles to take your hand in his. 

“God. Yes. I promise.”

“Come along then, temptress. Mine -’

Another to the back of your hand, soft and deep.

‘- it is.”

-

[perseephoneee]

caroling [ficmas 2024] [elijah mikaelson x f!reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

@wholoveseggs : Hiii darling!! I have a request for ficmas!! Elijah Mikaelson (duh!) with either caroling (hilarious) or hot cocoa ☕💕

warnings: caroling

author's note: lissa my beloved i hope i did elijah justice <3 this fic took me like four buffy episodes and die hard to write :p

playlist:

christmas (baby please come home) -- darlene love

that's christmas to me -- pentatonix

snow song -- adrianne lanker

The holidays were one of your favorite times of the year, full of community and lightness in times of darkness. Even with Mystic Falls becoming a frozen wasteland, you enjoyed going downtown and seeing all the decorations and bright lights adorning the streets. 

Your job as a librarian was also enriched by the season. Although Mystic Falls library was small and not often used, you did your best with the other staff to create a welcoming environment. This included hosting a book drive, lots of community craft events, and caroling. 

You loved to sing since you were tiny but hated caroling season in Mystic Falls. It was a community-wide thing, and it was also a competition to raise money for the Mystic Falls Foodbank. Except that Nancy Springborg won every single year. And loved to rub it in your face. 

The caroling groups involved many of the students in the various elementary and middle schools, especially the foster kids, who usually didn't receive much during the holiday season. All the kids were assigned to the different caroling hosts, and somehow, even with the random assignments, Nancy managed to have the best-sounding group with the best choreography to win the stupid competition. 

Not that you were bitter. 

"If you hate caroling so much, why do you continue to sign up?" Arielle, your co-worker, asked you as she cut more snowflake decorations. You both were assistant librarians hoping to work your way up the ladder. Currently, that meant doing the menial work of holiday decorations. The backroom was too small to work in, so you were both at the front desk.

"I don't hate caroling; I hate the caroling competition. It's stupid and doesn't achieve anything," you scoffed, aggressively snipping the paper. 

"Except money for the food bank."

"Don't argue semantics with me."

"It's supposed to be fun, and the kids look forward to it," Arielle grinned, pushing her glasses up her nose. You ripped your snowflake out of anger and let out a noise of frustration.

"It'd be fun if Nancy lost. She's such a bitch."

"Who's a bitch?"

You looked up to see Elijah Mikaelson, fingers tapping the counter as he looked at you with a half smile. You had never heard him say a swear word before, and it took your brain a few seconds to compute.

"Nancy Springborg. Y/N's arch nemesis," Arielle responded for you, finishing her snowflake. She sent you a knowing glance as you opened and closed your mouth like a fish. 

"Archnemesis? My, I didn't take you for the vengeful sort," Elijah tutted. 

"That would require you to know more about me," you replied, rolling your chair over to the counter. "Can I get something for you today, Mr. Mikaelson?"

"Elijah. And yes, I have a few archival books on loan that I'd like to pick up."

Elijah had been dutifully working on recording the town's history. He had managed to add a lot more information than was previously recorded. It was almost like he had lived through it.

"I can grab them. Be right back," Arielle nodded, leaving you alone with Elijah. In addition to recording Mystic Fall's history, he had also been coming in at least once a week and had become a subject of infatuation. Arielle wished you would just ask him out, but that would require bravery, which you were sorely lacking. So, instead, you pined from afar and whined when you had one too many to drink. 

"What makes this Nancy Springborg your archnemesis?" Elijah asked.

"She always wins the godsdamn caroling competition and has to be an asshole about it. I always get second," you frowned, twiddling your fingers. "I know it's for the kids…but I really just hate her smug expression."

Elijah chuckled. "I know people like that."

"How do you handle it?" you questioned.

"You, my dear, are too kind for how I deal with it."

You furrowed your brows in curiosity, but Arielle came back right at that second with two heavy tomes that left a satisfying smack on the counter. You scanned the books out to his library card, watching him not even stress a muscle as he put both under his arm. 

"Have a lovely day, Y/N. Arielle," Elijah nodded, heading out the door as your gaze followed him wistfully. You could almost hear Arielle shaking her head from behind you. You swiveled in your chair. 

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," you chimed, returning to your snowflakes as Arielle laughed.

The assignments for the caroling groups came out after your shift. You were already at home, the sky dark at five p.m. It was a frozen dinner night, and you were nursing a cup of green tea while you looked at who you got this year and went through your emails. You had a few new kids and a couple you've had before. One of them, Olive, was a girl you got every year. Her Mom was a widow who worked night shifts and often couldn't do much for Christmas. Still, her Mom gave you cookies every Christmas as a thank you. 

You were debating putting on a holiday movie when your doorbell rang. You weren't expecting any guests but went to check anyway. Surprise crossed your face as you saw Elijah outside. You opened your door. 

"How do you know where I live?" you inquired, leaning against the door frame.

"Arielle told me," Elijah smiled. "May I come in?"

"Uh, yeah. Come in," you said, moving out of the way. He entered, taking a glance

around your apartment. It wasn't very organized; you had books spilling everywhere. But it was clean; you weren't unhygienic. You shrugged.

"I have a librarian's salary, can't afford much."

"I think it's lovely," Elijah nodded, looking appreciatively at all the titles on your shelf. You shifted awkwardly. 

"What can I do for you, Mr. M– Elijah," you caught yourself, crossing your arms. 

"I used to sing when I was a young boy," he spoke, turning towards you. "My Mother would bring me to all the different houses with my siblings. As I got older, I stopped singing and got into playing piano. I still enjoy a choral piece or two." You maneuvered your way to the kitchen, pouring Elijah a cup of tea. He nodded appreciatively. "I was hoping I could help you with the caroling competition."

"I'm sure you have better things to do than participate in a caroling contest," you rolled your eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

"Anything one desires is worth doing," Elijah sipped his tea, nodding appreciatively. "Rose?"

"Cherry blossom. Got it for springtime, but I am still working through it."

"It's good," Elijah put his cup down. "So, caroling?"

"I hope you're not expecting some fancy choir. It's me and a bunch of children."

"Then I'll be in good company."

Was Elijah flirting with you? Maybe not by traditional standards, but he sounded interested. You weren't used to anything like this and didn't want to look too hard into it. 

"It's a week of rehearsals for one night of caroling; we start Monday," you raised your brow, almost in a challenge. Elijah grinned.

"I look forward to it." His gaze caught on the television. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"I was going to put on a movie, that's all." You shifted your weight as you debated your question. "Do you want to stay? I got delicious frozen food."

"It would be my honor," Elijah replied, removing his jacket and hanging it near your front door. He was dressed in the same suit from earlier, and you realized you had never seen him in anything other than the finest. In comparison, you were in loose lounge pants and a T-shirt. "What are we watching?"

"The best Christmas movie ever– Die Hard," you grinned, going to your pantry to find your popcorn.

"Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?" Elijah questioned, causing you to stop in your tracks. 

"Don't ask stupid questions," you tutted. "Let me introduce you to the wonder of John McClane saving Christmas."

Elijah ended up enjoying the movie, although he had many questions throughout. You had to pause several times to tell him to trust the process. He also participated in your frozen dinner buffet, which was entertaining since he dressed like he was going to a Michelin-star restaurant. He ended up leaving hours later. When you closed the door, it took you about thirty seconds before you descended into a giggling mess and called Arielle. 

Monday couldn't come fast enough. Rehearsals were scheduled for after school at the library, and you had already set out snacks and refreshments when Elijah showed up. He was still dressed to impress. You spun around with a snack tray in your hands. 

"Cheese cube, Mr. Mikaelson?"

"You really know how to impress a man," Elijah chuckled, picking up one of the cheeses. Somehow, he made eating cheese seductive. You turned away, swallowing. "Am I too early?"

"Not at all; children are just too late." Even as you said it, though, your usual favorite, Olive, showed up. She bounded through the door, her braided pigtails bouncing behind her. 

"Hi, Miss!" she squealed, going to give you a hug, which you returned greedily. 

"Hey girlie, how's sixth grade treating you?"

"It's really cool because I get a locker now, and I have more than one teacher, and I like my classes," Olive rambled, dropping her backpack onto the floor. You raised a brow, and she picked it up and put it to the side. 

"I'm glad school is going well."

"Yeah, but I'm still excited to go home. Although this time, I'm excited to sing."

"It's not caroling without you, Ollie," you grinned. Olive finally noticed Elijah and peered at him expectedly. 

"Who's this?"

"This is Mr. Mikaelson. He's going to help us out this year so we can beat Nancy."

"Oh good! I want her to perish. That's a new word I learned in class. Perish."

You rolled your eyes. Elijah crouched down to her height, narrowing his eyes.

"That's quite a big word for a small girl like yourself."

"I'm a big girl," Olive huffed, crossing her arms. Elijah acted disinterested, hiding his smile. "Miss! Tell Mr. Mikaelson I'm a big girl."

"That's a battle you'll have to fight yourself," you grinned as Olive returned to chastising Elijah. The other kids soon showed up: Graham, Norman, Sarah, Maddy, and James, and you guys got to work practicing your song. You decided to do "That's Christmas To Me" this year, as it was a completely choral piece with many parts for each kid. Nancy always chose a piece she could do a solo in, and somehow, she still won. Completely defeating the spirit of Christmas. Your practice ended well, and Elijah ended up walking you home since it was dark already. 

"Thanks for helping out," you shrugged, looking over at him. 

"My pleasure," he smiled. "You have a lovely voice."

"Eh, it's fine. I stay on key."

"I would love to hear you sing more without many youngsters overlapping."

"'Youngsters?' What are you, 80?"

You both laughed over that. You arrived at your door before he could respond. You stood there awkwardly, looking at your boots. 

"Perhaps you can entertain me one of these evenings with a solo performance?" Elijah postured, stepping closer to you. There was a doormat worth of distance between you and him. You had trouble meeting his eyes. 

"Perhaps," you gulped. "Good night, Elijah."

"Good night, Y/N," Elijah nodded, stepping away and leaving you to your home. 

The rest of the rehearsals went virtually the same. 

Many of the kids liked Elijah, although Olive still found enjoyment in teasing him. You guys sounded a lot tighter than your groups usually did, and by the time the caroling day came along, you felt semi-confident. 

No group took the same route; otherwise, citizens would be exhausted from hearing music all night. Instead, every group met at city hall and got an assigned route, and a judge accompanied them. Part of you thought that maybe Nancy was sleeping with the judges, and that's how she won. Except that the judges were all elderly women and a gay man, so unless they were attracted to the Devil, it was likely not the case. 

You were waiting inside the foyer of city hall, nursing a cup of hot tea from the refreshment table, when the Devil approached. 

"Y/N, don't you look, darling," Nancy crooned, coming to stand in front of you. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, and she wore a sweater dress with an expensive-looking brooch. You narrowed your eyes. 

"Hi, Nancy," you groaned, forcing on a smile. 

"I think it's cute how you do this every year," Nancy smiled, touching your arm lightly. She glanced around, finding something more interesting. "Good luck."

"You too," you grimaced, sticking your tongue out as she turned away. Elijah decided at that moment to show up and hid his grin at your behavior. 

"She seems pleasant," Elijah chimed, hands in his trouser pockets. You were still scowling. 

"If you like people with sticks up their ass, sure," you added, downing your tea in one gulp and throwing the cup out. Elijah bit his lip to hide his laughter. You pretended not to notice. "Are the kids here yet?"

"They're around the corner getting hot chocolate."

"That's good…good," you trailed off, staring after where Nancy walked off. Elijah came to stand in front of you. 

"Worry does not serve you, my dear," Elijah murmured. "Tonight will be great, and it is because of you and your resilience." His eyes were molten pools of understanding, and you felt that if you stared into them, it might give you the answers to all of your questions in life. It was the first time you truly looked in his eyes, as most of the time, you were too afraid to. 

"Okay," you mumbled. You gave yourself a shake, blowing out your lips. "We got this. Let's rally the troops."

It took you about two houses to get your rhythm and for the kids to remember the pitch. You're pretty sure some of the moms tipped you more because of Elijah charming them, but you weren't going to complain. Still, you were a hundred shy of your goal by the end of your route, and you saw Nancy's group parading down the street, already overflowing with cash. 

"This is bullshit," Olive swore, glaring at Nancy's group.

"Language," both you and Elijah said at the same time. 

"Why do they have matching outfits?" Graham asked, speaking loudly with his ear muffs. 

"Because Ms. Springborg has too much time on her hands," Elijah sighed. Sarah and Maddy both giggled, elbowing each other. You were pretty sure they thought Elijah was cute, and you couldn't disagree. James, a quiet boy with glasses, tugged on Elijah's sleeve. 

"A-Are we going to do the thing?" he murmured, voice small. Your brows furrowed. 

"What thing?" you inquired as the other kids piped up. Elijah shushed them and turned to you. 

"We had an idea if you would consider it," Elijah postured.

"When did you guys come up with an idea?"

"When you weren't around," Elijah smirked. "We practiced another song; what if we tried it at the last house?"

"B-But I don't know the song."

"Yes, you do; I've heard you sing it when you work," Elijah whispered the song to you, and even as nerves gripped your stomach, you agreed to do it. The kids looked excited enough to convince you it was the right thing to do. 

You went up to the last house, palms sweaty, as Elijah climbed the steps to knock on the door. It appeared to be a Christmas party, which meant a lot more people than you wanted to perform in front of. A middle-aged woman answered the door.

"Good evening, ma'am. What a lovely home you have," Elijah smiled. "We hope you will give us the pleasure of listening to our song this evening." He tacked on some more compliments for good measure, and you could already see the woman swooning. Elijah came back down a moment later, nodding that it was time to start. You sucked in a breath. Elijah counted down for the kids as they started singing. 

"Christmas,"

"The snow's coming down," you sang. Your voice was shaky but loud enough to carry on. Elijah and the kids kept up the backing vocals as you sang the lead. "I'm watching it fall; lots of people around; baby, please come home."

The rest of the party guests came out on the porch, and a couple of other houses also came to see. Your hands were shaking, and all you wanted to do was shove them into your pockets. Olive came up to your left, grabbing your hand in support. Elijah came to your right to take your other hand until all of you were in one happy, hand-holding circle. 

"They're singing 'Deck the Halls.'

But it's not like Christmas at all

'Cause I remember when you were here

And all the fun we had last year,"

As you sang, you couldn't keep your eyes off Elijah for more than a few seconds. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, either. 

The song finished before you realized, and your group enveloped you in a hug as applause broke out from the houses. You saw Nancy down the street, scowling at you as everyone pitched in their money for your performance. Just as the kids let you go, you also turned around to hug Elijah. Some part of your brain thought it was also totally normal to kiss him. You pulled away almost immediately, cheeks burning. 

"Did we win? Did we win?" Olive chirped, grabbing your sleeve and distracting you. You laughed, completely forgetting about the competition the second you started singing. 

"Who cares? I'm just happy I got to see Nancy look that unhappy," you shrugged, waving to Nancy as she stormed away in a huff.

"I'm happy I finally got to hear you sing," Elijah whispered to you. You jumped, spinning around to face him. "The kiss was an added bonus."

"I-I didn't mean to, I'm sorry–"

Elijah kissed you, cutting you off. His hands wrapped around your waist, his lips a firm reminder of everything you loved about the holiday season. His arms stayed around you even as he pulled away. "I should've done that sooner."

"Yeah, we were all waiting," Olive said, rolling her eyes. "Norman bet me a Hershey bar on it."

"Did not!" Norman retorted, and he and Olive broke down into semantics. Elijah pulled you back to him, eyes crinkled in amusement from the two kids. 

"Hi," you whispered. 

"Hello," Elijah brushed your hair away from your face. "Can I kiss you again?"

You nodded, letting him pull you back in, feeling like you won the caroling competition already. 

[societyfolklore]

Wandering Soul - Part 2

Title:  Wandering Soul - Part 2

Pairing: Loki x Asgardian!Female Reader

Fic Summary:   You were inexplicably drawn to Loki, a presence that existed in the shadows of your mind-an allure you could neither explain nor escape. He whispered in your dreams, tempted you with promises of power and freedom, and left you questioning where his magic ended and your own desires began.

Word Count:  2.6K

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI Smut (eventually), slow burn, kissing, brief masturbation/touching, No beta…

A/N:   Part One I'm not sure how many parts this will actually be I thought it was going to end up 5.. but I'm covering ground better.. so maybe 3 depending on the direction I take this..

Sleep had never come so easily.

As if the moment your eyes closed, he reached for you- eager, patient, ever-present.

You stood again in the dream. Or… something like it. The air was cool and sharp as silver, yet carried the sweetness of distant lilacs, blooming out of season. Darkness bloomed all around you, stitched with faint threads of green light that flickered and bent like candleflames in water. You were no longer in the ruins, nor anywhere you recognized. The space pulsed with magic ancient, humming beneath your skin like a second heartbeat. It was as if your soul had stepped beyond the veil, into a memory you had never lived.

Above you, tall spires pierced a violet sky, jagged and obsidian, silhouetted against moons you didn’t remember rising. Cold wind stirred your cloak, lifting your hair in lazy ribbons. You turned half-expecting to see nothing, half-hoping you would.

But something was always there. A breath behind your breath. A shadow within the shadow.

You never saw his face. Not fully. Just a shape behind the trees, a silhouette in the arch of a doorway, the curl of a mouth glimpsed when you blinked. You never caught more than a flicker- yet you knew him. Every cell in your body recognized the pull.

Eyes, impossibly blue, watching from the dark.

Hair like black silk, falling in waves around broad shoulders.

A voice- deep, velvet-wrapped, vibrating through the dream like a plucked string. Smooth and ancient. Both invitation and warning.

"Little Serpent.." it murmured, impossibly close. “You dream more beautifully with every night that passes.”

You turned, breath catching- his voice at your neck, his presence behind your shoulder. Nothing there. Yet your skin prickled as though he had touched you. Your body knew him, even if your eyes were denied the truth.

His fingers didn’t land, but they brushed you just the same. Phantom caresses gliding down your arms, tracing your spine, circling your wrists. The heat of breath warmed your ear, cool fingers made of starlight dancing along the edges of sensation.

“Look at you…” he whispered. “You feel it, don’t you? The power stirring beneath your skin?”

A surge rushed through you, pure and golden, coiling in your core. Magic. Yours. The power others had tried to keep from you, to subdue your talents. It responded to him like a lover, rising to meet his presence, emboldened now by his approval. You gasped, swaying as the dream shifted again, legs barely steady, as if the force of your own awakening might knock you from your feet.

The landscape changed- stone hallways laced with runes, vines of green light threading through the walls like veins. A forest swept in and vanished, the scent of pine and snow wrapping around your senses. Then velvet, soft and black beneath your bare feet. You trembled, hands curling at your sides, heart thundering.

Your pulse stuttered when he spoke again.

“My acolyte.”

The words sank into you like ink into parchment. You didn’t know what you were becoming, only that he saw it in you- called to it, stirred it awake. You were being sculpted in the dream, carved into something new beneath his unseen hands.

“My muse.”

His voice dropped like silk between your legs, a low purr that sent a ripple through your spine. You exhaled sharply, the heat pooling low in your belly spreading through every limb, curling your toes. It bloomed like fire under your skin, a slow burn made unbearable by its restraint. You were undone and untouched, your body answering him with every shallow breath.

Then- sensation. A mouth at your throat, not quite touching, but the press of breath was enough to burn. His lips hovered like a dare, promising without delivering, and still you arched into it. His hand curled around your waist, guiding without force, pulling you back against nothing. Though nothing was there, your body ached to respond, to press closer, to be filled. Magic rippled through you, building in the places his hands might have been, had he truly been there.

“You’re ready to be unmade,” he whispered, a smile in every syllable. The promise in his tone undid you more than any touch could. It was worship and wickedness entwined, dragging a sound from your throat you didn’t recognize.

And then he was everywhere, pulling you down, the dream melting into silk sheets, your nightdress thin, clinging to flushed skin. The bed was vast and endless, swallowed in darkness and heat. The press of phantom limbs tangled with yours, an illusion given weight by desire. Breathless moans escaped as your back arched, hips moving of their own will, guided by an invisible rhythm that pulsed between your thighs. Every movement was answered by his magic, coaxing you deeper, further. The bed rocked beneath you, air thick with enchantment and musk, with the heady scent of pine and rain and him.

You grasped at the sheets, at nothing. Clawed at the space where his shoulders should have been, fingers closing on empty air. Your name trembled on the edge of your tongue, his name buried in your bones, in the marrow of you, aching to be spoken.

Every gasp he drew from you was a surrender. Every phantom kiss a claim. Each touch without touch marked you- unseen and unforgettable.

You cried out for him, voice raw, but no name came. Only heat. Only hunger. Your body bowed like a drawn bowstring, vibrating with the tension of it, straining for release.

You came apart with his name buried in your throat- still unknown, still unspoken. A symphony of ache and rapture, stretched to the stars and pulled through you like constellations drawn in pain and pleasure.

And then, as always, you woke.

~#~#~#~#~

You sat up beneath your travel cloak, breath ragged, the dream clinging to your skin like sweat. The moons hung high above the trees, casting the glen in quiet silver. Damp leaves crinkled beneath your palms as you rose, limbs sore from the cold ground and something else, a deeper ache that no fire could warm. It settled low in your bones, a weight that thrummed with remembered pleasure and the ache of something unfulfilled.

The ruins felt a world away now. Whatever had started there hadn’t ended. It had only deepened, grown roots inside you. You could feel them now, winding through your chest, twining around your ribs. The pull you felt wasn’t just magic, it was longing. A call echoing in your blood, answering something ancient, something waiting.

You moved like someone caught between worlds, each step heavier than the last. You washed your face in the river nearby, hoping the icy water might chase away the heat still clinging to your skin. But it didn’t. Not the phantom brush of his fingers, nor the ghost of his breath at your throat. Not the taste of him that still lingered like a forbidden fruit on your tongue.

You stared into the water for a long while, watching your reflection ripple and blur. You hardly recognized the woman staring back- eyes darkened with something fierce, lips parted as if still gasping his name. It frightened you. It thrilled you.

The memory clung to you with every movement, every breath. You couldn’t tell where his magic ended and your yearning began. Perhaps they were the same now. Perhaps they had always been.

By dawn, your things were packed. The forest was quiet as you mounted your horse. Frost clung to the underbrush, sparkling in the early light. You pulled your cloak tighter, not against the cold, but against the memory that kept unraveling you.

You didn’t need direction. The way forward was written into your marrow.

You turned north.

Always north.

~#~#~#~#~

The journey became rhythm. Hoofbeats tapping like a heartbeat over packed earth, the steady sway of your body in the saddle becoming second nature. Trees blurred past in a wash of green and gold, their canopies whispering overhead like gossiping spirits. Birds scattered at your passing, and distant beasts stirred beyond the treeline, yet nothing came close. You followed no path you knew, no road marked on any map- just the pull beneath your ribs, steady and relentless, like a compass spun by enchantment.

You weren’t just being called.

You were being summoned.

He followed you, always. In your waking hours now, no longer content to linger only in dreams. He bled into the edges of your vision, his magic seeping into the seams of your reality.

A whisper when you leaned against a tree to drink, his voice curling like the steam where you filled your cup, telling you that you were close.

A flicker of movement behind your reflection in the river, his silhouette standing still while yours rippled.

The brush of something down your spine when no one was there, your breath catching, the echo of fingers that knew you better than your own.

You tried to tell yourself it was imagination, but the ache he left behind was too precise. Too intimate.

At the market in the next village, you felt him again. It felt like his eyes were on you as you paid for dried meat and apples, the weight of his gaze more familiar now than sunlight. A breath at your neck while you chewed in silence at the inn, staring into your cup of mead, heartbeat fluttering like you’d been kissed without warning.

You wandered the village in a haze, every shadow another possibility. The smithy’s forge flared green for a moment too long. The merchant’s daughter stared past you, eyes glassy as if she, too, had heard a whisper not meant for her.

When you climbed the stairs to your room, you didn’t look back. You didn’t need to. The shadow followed. You could feel it pressing at your heels, warm and coiled like smoke, like breath. Like fate catching up at last.

~#~#~#~#~

The room was small but warm, the fire dwindling into soft embers, casting soft flickers of light that danced across the wooden walls. You hadn’t slept in a real bed in days. It felt like a luxury, one you didn’t quite trust. The mattress was soft beneath your back, the weight of blankets grounding you, but there was no comfort. Not truly. Not when your body still thrummed with the phantom ache of dreams that never truly left you. 

You stretched beneath sways of blankets and furs, your shift clinging to your skin, damp from something more than heat. The dreams had never left you unmarked, and tonight was no different. Already your skin felt too tight, too alive, as though your very flesh remembered him better than your waking mind dared to. Your thighs ached from memory alone, an echo of touch, of want, of the pleasure he left behind like fingerprints on your soul.

You turned onto your back, breath quickening. The fire snapped in the hearth and your fingers ghosted over your hip, your stomach, down to the places that still pulsed from the ghost of him. You were raw with wanting, every nerve humming like it waited for a command only he could give. You clenched your legs together, trying to will it away. It didn’t work.

You could still feel him. The echo of his mouth. The press of his magic, woven into you, stitched into your skin like a spell. Every breath you took was touched by him. Every inch of you knew what it meant to be desired by something more than mortal, more than man.

Your hand dipped lower, no longer just searching- seeking. Needing. Your fingers found heat, slick and sensitive, the wetness there nearly constant now, ever-present each time your dreams returned to you. He had changed you. Claimed you. And your body betrayed your craving with every breath.

You circled slowly, a gasp catching in your throat as pleasure sparked to life, helpless beneath the memory of his voice, his touch. You pressed deeper, hips shifting under the furs. The tension rose so quickly it almost startled you.

"Do you ache for me?" the voice echoed in your mind, silk-soft and smug.

You whimpered aloud.

The fire hissed.

The air changed.

You froze.

He was here.

The shadows deepened, curling like smoke. A figure stepped forward, half-swallowed by the dark, but you knew him. You knew. Recognition flared through your chest like a second heartbeat, painful in its certainty. Every dream, every whisper, every phantom touch had led to this moment. He was no longer a specter or silhouette. He was real. Here. And impossibly, terribly close.

Eyes like moonlight on frost. Bright and cutting. Ancient. Hair tumbling over his shoulders in waves of inky black, the firelight catching on its edges like burnished silk. Power bled into the room with every step he took, thickening the air, filling your lungs with something sharp and electric. The room bent around him, shadows clinging to his form as if reluctant to let him go.

Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen between reverence and fear, arousal and awe.

“Do not fear me,” he said, voice low, indulgent, curling into the corners of the room like smoke. “You called, and I came. I offer you freedom… a taste of the divine.”

He stopped at the edge of the bed, gaze burning through you. The fire lit only one side of his face, the other hidden in shadow, but you didn’t need to see more. It made him more dangerous. More beautiful. As if he’d been carved from night and flame.

“You’ve done so well, little witch,” he murmured. “To come this far.”

“Who are you?” you whispered.

His smile was slow, dangerous. “You will know me. And I will give you all that you need.”

He leaned down.

Lips met yours.

Soft at first. Almost reverent. The press of his mouth against yours was like warm velvet- tender, coaxing, drawing your breath into him as if he needed it to survive. Heat pulsed through your lips, spreading outward in waves that made your skin tingle and your core tighten with longing.

His lips moved against yours with a gentle pressure that made your toes curl, his breath sweet and cool, tinged with something faintly herbal, ancient. The taste of him was magic and shadow and starlight. You opened for him, willingly, helplessly.

His fingers brushed your cheek, slow and tender, before trailing along your jawline and curling beneath your chin. You gasped when his tongue slid into your mouth—slow, sinuous, tasting you like a promise. He drank you in like he’d been starving.

The kiss deepened. Grew hungry. Greedy. His lips claimed yours with a heat that made your head spin, his tongue twining with yours, tasting, teasing, commanding. You moaned into him, hands fisting into the sheets as your body responded, helpless to the fire he ignited.

One of his hands rose to cradle the side of your neck, thumb stroking over your racing pulse. The other slid down your side, fingers firm and exploring, finding the curve of your hip, the softness of your thigh. He mapped you like he’d done it a thousand times in dreams- and perhaps he had.

He cupped your breast through the thin shift, and the moan that left you was unbidden, instinctual. Your back arched into his palm, and he groaned into your mouth in response, the kiss turning feral, possessive. You could barely breathe, barely think.

Then he pushed you down into the mattress with his weight, his body pinning yours, the kiss leaving your lips bruised and parted, aching for more.

The kiss broke.

His tongue licked a path down your throat.

“You’re so close now, darling,” he murmured. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Then- flash of green.

He vanished.

The only proof he had been there was the wet heat of his mouth on your skin- and the way your body ached where his hands had never truly touched.

TAGS: @westwindrhapsody