#but at least i know that by the end of next year or the year after I'll be surrounded by people who bring true happiness into my life and-

[wileys-russo]

santa's biggest fan II l.williamson

part of the mila-verse and a little belated christmas fic i never finished in time santa's biggest fan II l.williamson "okay mils, time for bed bubba!" you clapped your hands together when the movie finished, the end credits rolling and your wife heaving a sigh of relief as your daughter groaned.

"another one! i'm not tired." the small blonde demanded, curling even more into leah who smiled in amusement, but that dropped the moment you gave her a hard look of warning.

"bubba if you don't go to sleep, santa won't come!" the footballer whistled with a firm nod as mila looked up to her in shock. "he only comes when everyone is sleeping." you back her up with another nod.

"okay lets all go to bed come on!" mila announced, launching herself off the lounge and sprinting off in the direction of yours and leahs room.

"mila babe, mummy and i don't go to sleep yet. remember how we talked about grown up bedtime is different to kid bedtime?" you called after her, footsteps thundering back down the hall as you were grateful you didn't still live in the tiny upstairs apartment you and leah first moved into together years before mila was even a thought.

"then why can't i stay up with you? its a special night, mummy said so! that should mean special rules." mila huffed, bottom lip jutting out into an adorable pout as she stomped her foot.

"it is already an hour past your bedtime little miss, now go on jump into bed and we'll come in and read you a special story. right?" leah chimed in, mila shaking her head and with a resoundingly stubborn no! was off and racing around the house again as you and leah shared a knowing look.

"my love i have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

and safe to say you weren't a betting woman but you were right on the money with that predication.

"is she..." you whispered to your wife as she ever so slowly tip toed back into the living room with a quick nod and you exhaled in relief. "how many stories?" you asked with a slight smile of amusement, opening your arms as the blonde sank down into them with a huff.

"the same one, over and over, seven bloody times. i might just add in the murder of that hungry hungry caterpillar the next fucking time i read it!" leah grumbled into your neck, your body vibrating beneath her with a quiet laughter.

"its not funny! god why are kids like this? first it was that awful baby shark song, then it was that awful show about fruit and friendship or whatever, now its the same awful book on repeat!" leah whined as you merely smiled, hand slipping up her hoodie to scratch your nails gently up and down her back.

"kids just like repetition baby its safe for them, they know they won't be disappointed. almost like a defender i know who has had the same pregame routine for...what is it now? ten? eleven years?" you chuckled, leahs head whipping up to scowl down at you as her taller body hovered over yours.

"that is not the same thing!" she whisper yelled defensively as your smile widened into a grin.

"is too. or should we talk about the rotation of bland beige meals you rotate? our daughter has a more adventurous palette than you, at least she can handle some seasoning and colour!" you teased, poking your tongue out in response to her offended scoff.

"i will have you know-" your hand darted up to cover her mouth with a sharp shut up at her raised tone of voice, peeking your head up to glance over your wifes shoulder, sighing in relief when mila didn't appear.

"you know my girl there is another way you could shut me up thats much more pleasant for both of us." leah smirked once you'd removed your hand, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as you tried to bite back your smile, her arms planting themselves either side of your head.

"is that mistletoe?" leah frowned looking up at the ceiling but the moment you tried to glance up her mouth connected with yours, your fingers pinching her side. "you're unbelievable." you mumbled against her lips with a slight snicker.

"unbelievably sexy? oh baby, how you flatter me." leah gasped sarcastically, once again kissing you quickly before you could reply, settling herself comfortably on top of you as your tongues fought for dominance of the kiss.

but before anyone could win there was an interruption, leah falling off of you in shock and groaning as her back met the floor with a thump.

"i'm not tired and i can't sleep!" mila repeated, stomping her foot with a scowl that was a near mirror image of your wives from where she sat on the floor muttering about her tailbone.

with a deep sigh you sat up, swinging yourself to push off the sofa and scooping up the tiny blonde, settling her on your hip. "well that's too bad mil, it is way past your bedtime!" you carried her back to her room, protests ringing out the entire time.

"story!" the girl demanded as you tucked her back into bed, sighing again and reaching for the book already sat on the bedside table, making yourself comfortable in the armchair by your daughters bed.

"in the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf..."

~

"-then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and-" "-and he was a beautiful butterfly!" your daughter finished excitedly, clapping her hands and nowhere near close to sleep as you exhaled tiredly and snapped the book shut.

"right i've read this three times now and you're a big girl right bubba? well big girls go to sleep when they're supposed to. so you and gunner-" you paused to adjust the little dinosaur plushie held tightly in your daughters grasp.

"-are going to lay here very quietly together, until you fall asleep. or else no santa! you want santa to come visit right mils?" you ran a hand through her mess of blonde hair as she nodded eagerly.

"mama!" her hand grabbed a fistful of your hoodie as you stood and ducked down to kiss her forehead. "yes baby?" you sighed with a small smile.

"cuddles till i fall asleep? pwease?" the four year old pouted, hitting you with the puppy dog eyes she knew worked like a charm on the pair of you most of the time.

"don't do that mil, you know how to do your L's properly." you warned with a look. "please! please, please, please, please-" mila begged as you sighed, seemingly more tired than she was at this rate and knowing the later she stayed up the later you and leah had to stay up to sort out her presents.

"okay! okay okay. but just for a little while, yeah?" you gave in, gently tugging her hands off you and moving to flick the big light in her room off, leaving only the small red arsenal nightlight illuminating a pathway to her door.

"bubba no-" you tried as you laid down beside her, the four year old climbing basically on top of you, her gunnasaurus plushie squished against your cheek as you exhaled, not bothered for the argument.

one hand moving to tangle in her hair your fingers moved rhythmically against her scalp, feeling her limbs ragdoll as her body became that little bit heavier, her breathing evening out against your collarbone.

you waited a few more minutes until you were sure she was properly asleep before very very carefully moving her back into bed, wincing as you struggled to detatch her arms which seemed to be locked around your neck.

though you didn't make it two steps towards the door before she awoke again, tiredly sitting up and wiping her eyes as you exhaled with a shake of your head.

"mama no! more cuddles." "no more cuddles bubba, time to go to sleep. mama will sit by the door for five minutes until you sleep again, okay?" you bargained quietly, your daughter seeming to accept that with a nod as she sank back down in bed right as you sat down on the floor.

five minutes passed though again as you tried to leave her voice rang out for you to stay and you sank back down to the floor with a frustrated sigh, gently encouraging her to lay down and try to sleep.

ten more minutes and you managed to crawl out of the room without interruption, leaving her door open ajar and returning the living room where your wife was still sat up awake, now bundled beneath a blanket.

"come here." the defender smiled knowingly, moving the blanket and adjusting to give you some room to sit between her legs, patting the sofa encouragingly.

though your ass had barely made contact before it sounded again, now both you and leah groaning quietly.

"mama! mummy! i had a bad dream!"

~

"she's down?" you asked hopefully, now sat comfortably beneath the blanket leah once was, your wife tag teaming to go and lay down with your daughter a half an hour ago, only now emerging.

"for the count." leah confirmed with a tired nod, taking a seat beside you and wiggling beneath the blanket, grabbing your legs and moving them to rest on her lap.

"shit its nearly midnight!" leah realised with a huff, tapping her phone and seeing the time as you hummed, your head resting on her shoulder. "she's a night owl like her mummy!" you teased, patting leahs chest who flicked your ear playfully.

"god i love this movie." you hummed happily, the two of you having been watching bits and pieces of the holiday as you took turns popping in and out of your daughters bedroom to try and get her to succumb to sleep so the pair of you could play santa.

and as your movie finished and there'd been no sight of mila for at least forty minutes now, you readied yourself to do just that, the presents all neatly stacked in your bedroom as leah counted quietly to make sure everything was accounted for.

"-so the bike stays here from us, and the new predator boots go out from santa." leah rolled her eyes at that making you grin, alessia having insisted her goddaughter grew up on predators boots instead of phantoms, something which had driven leah up the wall from the very moment the topic was raised, both you and your best friend adidas athletes while she was with nike.

"i'll go check she's asleep and grab the stocking off her bed, mrs claus." you winked, stealing a kiss from the grumpy blonde whose eyes rolled.

you'd grown up doing christmas a little differently from your wife, the stocking always sat on the foot of your bed rather than hung in the living room, a tradition you'd carried on through your daughter much to leahs protests it made everything ten times harder.

and tonight unfortunately, you were about to find out she was very very right.

you ever so carefully pushed open your daughters door, sticking your head in and surveying the room. "santa?" you heard a tired voice call out groggily, quickly pulling your head back and swearing under your breath, waiting by the door for a moment to see if she'd get up.

but it would seem the small blonde was at least half asleep as no footsteps sounded, and you hurried back to the bedroom where leah was nowhere to be seen, found in the living room meticulously organising the presents beneath the tree.

"we've got a problem." you sighed as she looked up with a frown and an eyebrow raised questioningly. "she's awake still? seriously? its nearly two in the morning babe this is ridiculous!" leah whispered as your eyes rolled.

"sort of, she's not quite asleep but she's not fully awake. we could wait a little while longer?" you sighed tiredly, running a hand through your hair as leah pulled a face.

"you and i both know she's not sleeping past five in the morning babe, no matter when she falls asleep, and i need sleep to deal with our families all day!" leah whined, head thumping against the wall.

"what and i don't leah? we'll just wait ten minutes and i'll check again!" you warned, your wife too tired to protest as she nodded, joining you on the lounge a few moments later.

sure enough when you popped your head in a little while later mila appeared to be sleeping, not a peep heard as you waited a few seconds to be sure, though your breath hitched as she tossed and turned suddenly.

"she's restless, i'm worried she'll wake up." you sighed as you returned to your bedroom where leah was waiting. "you're joking yeah? it'll be fine! lets just get it over and done with." the defender scoffed bluntly, trying to stand from the bed as you pushed at her chest and sent her bouncing back down.

"leah. we are not ruining the magic of christmas for our four year old daughter who loves santa." you growled tiredly, giving her a dirty look before disappearing into the en-suite, rummaging around for something.

"well we're also not being held hostage by that four year old for another hour!" your wife growled right back as she popped up in the doorway. "correct. so, time for plan b!" you stood and leahs hardened face fell seeing what you held in your hands.

"oh absolutely the fuck not. i know what you're thinking babe and thats not happening!"

only a few minutes later, it was most definitely happening despite your wives ongoing grumbles and mumbles of protest as you carefully stuck the cotton wool balls to her face.

"this is fucking ridiculous!" leah grunted unhappily, scrunching her nose up as you finished the makeshift beard, the blonde clad in a matching red arsenal tracksuit with a couple of pillows stuffed up her jumper and a white scarf tied around her waist.

"babe i look like a bloody garden gnome not santa!" leah whined as she caught sight of herself in the mirror and winced, a red arsenal beanie with a funnel under it to create somewhat of a makeshift santa hat teetering precariously on her head.

"she won't notice in the dark if she wakes up leah. you'll just crawl in, try not to wake her, get the stocking. we fill it, you crawl in and put it very carefully back, and we're off to bed!" you recounted, shoving her out of your bedroom and toward your daughters.

"go santa go!" you whispered, hand colliding with her ass encouragingly as she jumped in surprise and turned to give you a filthy look.

"oi you better watch it, elf." the blonde pointed menacingly as your eyes rolled, hiding a smile as your wife dropped to her stomach, pushing mila's door open and very carefully commando crawling inside.

you felt as though you couldn't breathe until she returned, a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing as she crawled out again a moment later dragging the stocking with her.

"don't you dare laugh." the older girl muttered, hitting you in the face with the stocking as the air of you hurried to fill it with presents quickly as possible, your breath again stopped as leah began the crawl inside to put it back.

thankfully despite a few tired mumbles and a sleepy roll over that had leah dropping flat to the floor, her mission was successful and a very sudden burst of adrenaline filled her body as she crawled out and ever so carefully pulled the door shut with a soft click.

your own bedroom door closing you squealed as a body hurtled into yours, a few loose cotton balls falling to hit you in the head as your back hit the mattress and your wife hovered over you with a cheeky grin and an all too familiar glint in her eyes.

"now i think santa deserves a little reward for all her hard hard work tonight my darling, don't you?"

[moonstruckme]

Could you do a scenario of reader comforting sirus after he gets an injury while playing Quidditch and has to sit out a lot of games?

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 701 words

Sirius hardly pauses his sulking to mutter a quiet, “thanks,” when you return with his hot cider. 

Remus scoffs. “Nice, Pads.” 

“What?” 

“You’re just so sweet to your girlfriend.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, sitting next to Sirius with a smile. “It’s his first match being barred from the pitch, I get it.” You fix your boyfriend with a look. “I won’t be patient forever, though.” 

Sirius looks genuinely contrite. “Sorry, baby.” You accept his apology kiss, but he scowls when a first year nearly trips on his cast. “Fuck, is this thing bloody invisible?” 

“Easy,” Remus cautions, though both he and you shoot stern looks at the first year. 

“Wanna turn sideways?” you offer. “I could hold it in my lap?” 

Sirius perks up some. “You gonna give me a foot massage, gorgeous?” 

“Merlin,” Remus mutters, scanning the student section for Lily. 

“I don’t really see how that would be possible…” You raise your eyebrows, smiling when Sirius half turns in his seat to plonk his injured leg in your lap. “I was thinking more like I could draw on it. Any tattoos you’ve been wanting on this leg?” 

Most of Gryffindor has already had a turn signing Sirius’ cast. It’s been on since the match last weekend, when a bad fall had broken Sirius’ leg badly enough that Pomfrey eventually had to send him out of the infirmary with skele-gro to heal what she couldn’t. It’ll be on for another couple weeks at least, and between you and James the white plaster is beginning to run out of space. 

“Hm.” Sirius leans over, considering. You’re glad the distraction is working. He’s been quiet and sullen all week because he’s had to miss quidditch training, and you’re sure his melancholy is twice as bad having to miss out on an actual match. “What about a dragon?”

“I could maybe do that.” You fish a marker out of your bag. “What sort of dragon?” 

Sirius’ mood sinks again when the match starts and the players fly out onto the pitch, but as it gets going and Gryffindor starts to score points, he gets into it. He roars with the rest of the crowd, picks up a chant about house pride, and, though he shouts a few obscenities at the beater filling in for him when a bludger gets too close to Bell, he still smiles when James points at him after scoring a goal. A real smile, bright and heart-fluttering. 

Near the end of the game, Sirius looks rather contented. He sips his second cup of cider while you draw daisies in between the other doodles on his cast. 

“They’d have more points if I were out there,” he says, rather mildly. 

Remus nearly snorts. “Yeah? How do you figure?” 

“I’d have sent a bludger towards Malfoy ages ago. There’s been lots of opportunities. Marlene’s holding her own, though,” he acknowledges. “And there are some advantages to being off the pitch for a little while.” 

You catch the syrupy quality to his voice, and turn to find him looking at you. You raise your eyebrows. “Do tell.” 

“Well, the cider, for one.” Sirius holds up his cup, as though that’s obvious. “Can’t usually have that during a match.” 

“Mm, you’re welcome.” 

“Did I not say thank you?” He leans over to nose at your neck. Remus respectfully looks back to the match. “Thank you, baby. Really. It’s great.” 

“I didn’t make it.” You grin at him. “What are the other things?” 

Sirius hums. “No early morning training. I get to have breakfast with my girl.” 

“No afternoon training on the weekends, either.” 

“Ah, see? You’re catching on.” 

“Don’t talk down to me,” you laugh. “You’re the one who’s been giving everyone the cold shoulder all week, Black.” 

“I know.” Sirius pulls his face from beneath your jaw. The playfulness is mostly gone from his expression, his eyes deep blue and full of apology. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to give anyone the cold shoulder, I just…” 

“It’s okay,” you say easily. You lean over, kissing the top of his head. “Really, I get it. You alright?” 

Sirius sighs, looking out over the pitch. “Yeah.” 

You rest your cheek on his hair. “Good.”

[flameswallower]

For the decade between my conscious realization that I was probably trans, or wanted to transition (circa age 17, around 2006), and the time I actually, seriously began coming out to people in my real life and taking steps to transition in my real life (age 28, in late 2017 and early 2018), there are two things I really wanted and needed to hear from out trans people. I heard them a couple of times, but probably not enough in the face of all the directly contradictory messages I was also getting— I think hearing this stuff consistently online and in IRL queer spaces could have cut those ten years in half, at least.

The first is, you know, “you are already on hormones and you find them rather suboptimal. do you feel like you’re not trans enough to need or deserve the type of HRT you want? well, that’s stupid. this should be a choice you can make freely for no reason other than that you want to. if you get the opportunity you should try it, no matter how your specific gender identity shakes out.”

The second is, “actually, you are meaningfully trans the second you declare your transness. that time you tried to get people to use they/them pronouns for you but almost everybody ignored the request or made it super clear they just saw you as your AGAB anyway? that sucked. the people you saw online saying you shouldn’t take certain non-medical steps to alter your appearance in a gendered way unless you were both ‘really trans’ and all the way out of the closet, or else you were trying to trick people and appropriating Something Important from the Actual, Out trans people? they were being stupid and narrow-minded, not to mention ignorant about the ways people tend to realize they are trans to begin with. If you say you are/want to be trans, I will support you in everything you want out of that even if it’s unconventional, or you do end up deciding against HRT/can’t take it, or you still ‘look like’ your AGAB to me, or you don’t pass as your actual gender well, or you still have to live publicly as your AGAB for a time, or or or…regardless, you are not some orphan who’s neither really trans nor really cis and accepted by cis people.”

I think these messages work really well together, and don’t contradict each other in any way. I also think they’re both going to become increasingly radical things to say over the next several years, at least in mixed company or to someone who is still closeted or mostly closeted.

It might be paranoid of me, but I have earnestly wondered whether some of the trans discourse that tries to pit “no-ho transition is a totally valid option that may interest you, and people who transition this way are (already) trans” against “HRT is great, if you think you want it you should try it if you can, informed consent is the way forward” is an op. It feels op-ish to me! It’s incredibly obvious that neither of these positions are remotely “truscummy,” since those are people who believe both that trans people who have “weird” genders and/or don’t medically transition are not “really” trans, AND that HRT should be heavily gatekept to prevent people who aren’t “really trans” or “trans enough” accessing it.

I think that saying "it's ok to be trans and not transition" is like saying "it's okay to be gay and not pursue gay relationships." like. it's obviously permissible, it is socially normative, it is the expectation placed on all people within society. Honestly, spreading "positivity" about not transitioning isn't even value neutral, I think it's outright transphobic.

[lemqnie]

ARCANE CHARACTERS + NEW YEARS EVE WITH YOU

JAYCE TALIS

⤠ loverboy texts you that he won't be done in the forge until late. you try to hide your disappointment. you're already dressed to the nines--a shimmery gold dress jayce bought for your for your anniversary last month sticks to your body like second skin. you were looking forward to partying it up with the kirammans. you move to take it off when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. heavily, you drag your feet to open it only to gasp in surprise when it's jayce. he stands in front of you, a sheepish smile on his face and pink dusting his cheeks and neck. he's in nothing but a simple white dress shirt, sleeves rucked up to his elbows. there's a hint of mechanic grease on his chin and you reach out to swipe it away, when he steps forward and pulls you close, apologising with a kiss. "what's that for?" you ask. he reveals what his other hand's hiding behind him: a bottle of champagne and a modest bag of fruits. "i thought we'd skip the party," he says, "stay here. watch the fireworks from over there." he nods at your balcony, the soft december breeze filtering through your room. "you said you'd be late," you accuse. he laughs. "i am. i wanted to come sooner, but i had meetings and then some and, well..." you don't know why you're still standing. you pull the man of progress in your room and the two of you steal kisses as you await the great clock to strike midnight.

VIKTOR

⤠ you've had plans since october. god knows viktor could never make enough time for himself to simply enjoy unless notified at least two months in advance. "nothing big," you promised him. with a roll of his eyes, he reaches forward with a free hand and kisses your forehead. "okay, láska." and exactly at eight pm on the dot, you show up at his flat, a bottle of wine and fresh sweetmilk rolls and grapes in tow. he lets you in, hair freshly damp from the shower. you make sure he's settled in before you set it up. you explain to him how your family rings in the new year: wishing on grapes and drunk. he laughs, wincing a little when the motion catches his back brace in a bad position. you reach over, brushing your thumb over his furrowed brows and he leans into your touch, kissing the insides of your wrist. "so," he says, accent thick and eyes heavy, "you brought the wine?" in the end, you didn't get to do your grapes until much, much later in the morning on new year's day after you wake up on viktor's bed, tangled in the sheets with him.

JINX

⤠ she swears to you that you'll get no better view of the piltie fireworks than above the cracks. she's waiting for you by the alley outside your workplace, gearing to go. you ask her if you need to bring anything yesterday and she grins, something mocking but rounded to sweet when she taps your nose. "just sturdy shoes and study old you," she sing-songs. as you climb up the treacherous cracks with her, you make good use of the shoes she told you to bring. you two finally make it up over the lanes and as you settle next to her, your breath leaves you forcefully. the view is beautiful. you can see the long stretch of roofs that make the end of zaun, the elevators, and the city of piltover. she nudges your shoulder and points with her arm to the councillor's building. "it'll be over there," she whispers. "colours like you've never seen!" the child-like wonder in her voice is what gets you. even if its minutes before midnight, you throw caution to the wind. what the hell, you thought as you turn and place your palm over her cheek. her blue eyes are wide, but she doesn't pull away as you lean in. when you kiss, you hear it behind you: the burst of fireworks, the cheer of children, and--best of all--jinx's relieved sigh against your lips.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN: CLICK HERE

[amaryllis-22]

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: John Price × Reader

Infos: Pregnancy, afab reader, mild possessive behavior near the end, mature and slightly dark themes

Based on this idea

As a member of Task Force 141, you'd dedicated your whole life to your team, to the Crown, and to the protection of international security. Going from home to work and from work to home had become the normality you'd learnt to accept.

It was nothing too tragic, truly.

When you were on duty, you didn't have time to worry about your decadent social circle, and when you were off deployment, you could always hit a pub with one of the lads. None of them would ever turn down an opportunity for a little distraction. Hell, you'd even started spending more time in the barracks than in your flat, to the point where the landlord questioned whether you'd died in action and he merely hadn't been informed about it.

Everything had been fine until, well, it no longer was.

Shrouded in the silence of your one-room apartment on a grey autumn day, you'd wondered what would be left of you after you inevitably ceased to be useful to the military. You'd probably be discharged with a respectful handshake, a few medals, and a good amount of money to spend the rest of your life doing... what exactly? Rot in loneliness?

No, you couldn't stand it, not anymore at least.

Those same circumstances you had considered acceptable and fulfilling suddenly seemed not to be enough. Perhaps you could have borne it in your early years of service, when your sole concern was coming home in one piece and making sure your comrades did the same.

But at the moment you had other needs. You were aware of it.

You'd wandered for a while in the dark searching for something that could help you feel complete — a sort of homemade spiritual journey with more failures than successes and the revelation you were seeking at the end.

You wanted a baby, desperately.

You'd never thought about motherhood before, and yet it had only taken the slightest nudge to turn it into the entire centre of your attention. It was as if a switch had been flipped in your head, triggering that innate and basic instinct to bring another creature into this world.

Shit, you had nothing ready to welcome your little angel.

The house you lived in was too small and in a part of town not ideal for easy access to schools.

Not to mention your job.

You clearly had to take a leave of absence. No matter how accustomed you were to injury, you wouldn't have tolerated the slightest chance of jeopardising your pregnancy.

You absolutely had to notify the higher-ups, or things were bound to get ugly. Money wasn't an issue with all you had saved, but it was possibly worth looking for a part-time job to support yourself in the meantime. All in all, it was better to be safe than sorry

Maybe, just maybe, you were moving things a smidge too fast. No, starting to buy baby clothes and toys was not a good idea because in your euphoric frenzy you'd forgotten a rather important detail.

You weren't in a relationship.

Now, that could have been a problem.

Your lifestyle wasn't helpful in keeping anything steady in the romance department. You could go on a mission and disappear for the next few weeks, if not months. You'd tried in the past (albeit, you must admit, with not too much effort), but balancing your various obligations had proved so stressful that you'd proudly declared yourself out of the market. Your new-found desire to start a family, though, would have forced you to return.

As resourceful as you may have been, it was going to be difficult to conceive a baby without a man to, you know, knock you up.

At that point, instead of getting on some dating app or throwing yourself into a classic blind date like a normal person, what had you done? Obviously, you'd gone to your captain, the man who had saved your life more times than you could have counted, dropping the bombshell he wouldn't have expected.

⎯⎯⎯ 「 𖤓 」⎯⎯⎯

"I want a baby," you announced the minute you entered his office, barely giving the door time to close behind you before you placed yourself in front of his desk. John's hand, which had been working on paperwork, froze in its movement, and his sterling blue eyes lifted to give you his full attention.

"Pardon?" His voice came out gruff and deep, words slipping out in a rush, as if his mind was not quite ready to digest what you had told him.

"I want a baby, Cap," you repeated unperturbed, shoulders squared, legs slightly apart, and back straight as a board. You were almost as confident in your stance as you were in your conviction.

Price's eyebrows furrowed, lips curled into a grimace that bordered on mockery. "Yeah... I heard that."

He hesitated, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk. "I was just wonderin' why you felt the need to share the ... news with me."

The man struggled to follow on which train of thought your brain had derailed.

What was this nonsense?

As far as he knew, you weren't in a relationship and didn't seem interested in one. At least, that was the reply you had given Soap when the Scot had pointed out your dry romantic situation.

Going from 0 to 100 wasn't anything foreign for you; he had learnt to deal with it, but this... was excessive even by your standards.

Had you met some bloke who had made you fall at his feet with honeyed words and pretty promises? No, you wouldn't have been fooled by it. Not his soldier. You were too mature for that shit, but John couldn't help the feeling of jealousy growing in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm telling you this because..." Your statement was enough to snap him out of the tunnel vision his stubborn self had coerced itself into; "...I need your help, to get one I mean."

The silence that spread through the office following your declaration was suffocating. You had mentally prepared for every possible reaction from him, yet seeing it actually happen was in no way comparable.

It wasn't the first time you had stood under Price's intense glare, not with how your relationship was set up. As much as he was your superior, you hadn't failed to make your opinion heard if something didn't sit well with you. You had never come close to insubordination, never really questioned his authority, but you certainly hadn't simply responded with a mere "aye, Cap'n" and carried on with your day.

It was an odd partnership, but it worked for both of you.

If John had to be honest, he viewed it as refreshing and somewhat fascinating. He was aware of how deep your loyalty ran — you'd have followed him down to hell if it had been necessary — so he could overlook your more colourful comments. Still, that didn't mean that he would spare you any of his warning stares.

He wasn't sure if you were playing a nasty prank on him. It wasn't like you, not about such personal matters anyway.

You probably weren't, if the determination and sheer earnestness flashing in your eyes could serve as an indication. That, though, led him to another, bigger problem: seriously consider what you were asking of him.

To state that, after all the years you had spent working shoulder to shoulder, Price had never thought of moving things to another level with you would have been a lie. He clearly found you attractive, and the chemistry between you two was undeniable. But hell, you worked so well in his team that he didn't feel like fucking it up simply for some of his urges.

Blurring the lines between work and love life could prove to be a minefield, a dangerous territory where it was difficult to venture.

You, however? Seemed more than willing to dive in like a suicidal maniac.

"You sure are somethin'." He exhaled, with a hint of exasperation. He was way past the age to keep up with you; that much was clear.

John hadn't even entertained the idea that you might see him as more than a trusted friend (he refused to believe that your relationship was purely professional), and now you were begging him to impregnate you? A whiplash wouldn't hold a candle to what this whole affair had become.

He would have wanted to plant his hands on your shoulders and shake some sense into you, to bombard you with questions about how you came up with such a plan, to remind you, in a perhaps overly patronising way, that this was not a decision you could take lightly: it was one that would change your future in the long run, one that you appeared to be handling far too casually.

His tired and burdened body rose from the chair in all its might, strong legs leading him directly in front of you. You owed a lot of explanations to your Captain, who had no intention of letting the matter go without first securing the info he was seeking.

"Why are you proposin' this to me?"

There was no malice or accusation in that, only a curiosity that bordered nearly on morbid. John felt shameful in that moment. Of all the vastly more important issues he could have raised, that was the only one his mind had focused on.

In a twisted manner, you had chosen him.

The knowledge that you'd handpicked him of all people to 'help' you was enough to rub his ego in all the right places, but he needed to know why.

Did you realise who you were offering this to? The consequences that would have followed?

His gaze never left your face, refusing to miss any possible change in your mannerisms. He made you feel like a rare species under a microscope, as if you couldn't hide anything from him, not when he had already scoured the innermost depths of your being in search of answers.

"You're the first one I thought of," you mentioned, finding it almost difficult to get the words out. Your limbs had suddenly become tense, making your posture stiffer than it should be. "Besides, I couldn't trust anyone but you with this."

John regarded himself as a stable person, capable of maintaining a cool and detached mind even in the most absurd and stressful scenarios. Yet in that moment, you had really managed to catch him off guard.

For fuck's sake, he had enough.

Did you want his cock to bully your pussy so badly, to fill it with cum again and again until there was no doubt left about the life he had planted in your womb?

He wasn't going to stop you.

Noticing his impassive expression, you hastened to assure him that, should he accept, you would ask nothing in return: no support for the baby, no parental responsibility, and no emotional attachment.

At that he merely snorted, shaking his head as if trying to chase away an annoying bug.

If you thought he would leave both of you, you and YOUR child, you obviously had still not fully understood the kind of man he was.

John could already imagine it.

A small cottage surrounded by nature, his beautiful wife waiting for him at the door, open arms and sweet smile, the laughter of children in the distance, and a warmth to finally caress his tough skin.

He wouldn't have let you resume your military career after; it would have been too dangerous and pointless.

Not that you had to know.

You would have so much to think about that you wouldn't even notice it. Your little angels would need the steady presence of a mother, and you certainly wouldn't be the one to deprive them of that, would you?

Don't worry; he would take care of it, putting his life on the line for the safety of your little family.

Family.

He had struggled to believe he could ever have one of his own, and now you were offering it to him on a silver platter. How lucky.

"Alright." His calloused hand rose to meet your cheek, thick thumb being passed over the soft pad of your lower lip. His face lowered enough to be exactly before yours. "I'll help you, just... don't come cryin' later for bitin' off more than you could chew."

Tag list: @nova-willow-541

✎There will definitely be a part two in the future.

[unriding]

PROTECTING YOU FROM A CREEP. ft. endo & togame (separate)

in which a persistent pursuer doesn’t quite get the hint … that is, until they come face to face with your boyfriend. potential warning for implied stalking ( not by the characters ). f!reader.

sfw. similar to headcanons from my previous blog, but is not a repost!

As if any unwarranted looks your direction could ever go unnoticed by Endo.

He’s pegged you as the type of person to be much too trusting of everyone you come across since day one, now even more so from the way you didn’t even bother to question the reason behind why Endo would suddenly want to pick you up from work (though.. had he known that your shifts were adjusted to wrap up at 11 PM, he certainly would have started doing so much, much earlier).

He decides to wait just outside the back entrance of your building, clock on his phone reading 10:58 PM. It doesn’t take him long to note that the street lights in this specific lot are dim, and the area itself is practically empty. Nothing out of the ordinary considering the time, but it’s definitely not the ideal place he would like for you to be walking alone in the middle of the night.

It’s not like Endo himself is immune to your cute face or your endearing personality either, but — everything about this just rubs him the wrong way.

That stranger that only visits your work when he knows you’re working. According to your coworkers, he’s got his hands on your full schedule for the month. How that would even be possible is beyond him, your coworkers, and your own comprehension. Apparently nobody had told him your hours, but in the end, he got the information from somewhere.

He thinks this has been going on for much longer than you’ve let on.

A sudden set of footsteps catches his attention, though they’re not as heavy as he imagined they would be. The new moon tonight makes it difficult for Endo to see clearly, but from what he’s able to make out — he’s smaller than him, at least.

Not that he would have a hard time with someone who happened to outsize him.

He almost says something. He certainly would have, without a doubt, but you’ve always had a thing or two to say about him ‘starting unnecessary fights.’

So he waits. He waits and watches as the man in the hood looks as if he’s about to open his mouth to say something, but changes his mind upon noticing Endo beside the door.

Specifically, the infamous infinity on his neck. The tattoo that anyone in Makochi could recognize in a single glance — one that spells death for whoever is foolish enough to bother him, let alone his girl.

The man freezes in place. The new boyfriend you’ve been talking about was him?

Perhaps Endo’s reputation as one of the strongest still stands even years after high school has passed — especially now, with the way the stranger stares at him, completely dumbstruck.

Something bordering sadistic in Endo bubbles inside his chest. He can’t help it — not when he knows that had he not decided to come to pick you up, you would have been alone with him by now.

And now that he’s seen him up close, he doesn’t like him one bit.

“Ah, here to pick her up?” Endo cocks his head to the side. “That’d be my job, don’t you think?”

“W-Who?” He stammers, eyes narrowing into his best attempt at a glare despite the tremble of his lip. “I don’t know anyone here, man.”

He almost laughs. “Well, don’t leave so soon,” he makes his way towards him, circles him like a wolf stalks his next prey.

“What’re you doing lurking at her work place like this?” Endo stops when he’s just beside him, ‘Frank’ only a couple inches from him now, “ya little punk?”

“I’m here for the trash. I can come back tomorrow—”

“Really now..” Endo leans in, almost laughing when he retreats backwards. “Because I thought you looked awfully familiar. You’re not that guy who got a hold of my girl’s work schedule, did ya?”

His eyes go wide. “N..n—”

“Cuz a nice girl like that’s already got a boyfriend,” he checks his watch, bored. 11:01. You’d probably be double checking your things by now. “Ah.”

“Unless you’d like for her to see you passed out on the floor, of course. We could arrange that.”

“Wouldn’t you like that, you mutt?”

You really, really should have taken up Togame’s offer to pick you up.

He’s always laughed at your glare, much to your annoyance. Presses a fingertip to the skin between your brows with an amused grin, reminding that you that “such a harsh look only looks cute when it’s you, y’know.”

Only, he’s nowhere in sight and this time, you truly hope your glare doesn’t come across as cute. Your back roughly bumps into the wall with your last step away from your pursuer, hand flying up to flash your phone’s messages his way — “my favorite turtle” clear across the top of the screen.

“My boyfriend’s really big and scary, just so you know,” your voice falters, panic flashing across your eyes for a moment. “And he’s on his way. I told him all about you.”

He smiles, and a chill runs down your spine.

“Did you now? Well, he doesn’t know you like I do,” he sneers, slowly moving to close the distance between the two of you. “I could treat you better. You know I could. Just give me another chance, and I’ll prove it.”

You shake your head as hard as you can. “I said you aren’t my type,” your voice comes out quieter this time, hoping the volume masks at least some of the fear, “a lot of times. And I have a boyfriend.”

It doesn’t faze him. If anything, you think he looks amused by your efforts to turn him down.

“Did you think I didn’t know that, silly girl?” He’s closer now, enough to stretch his hand out and nearly reach you, “I really, really like girls like you. I don’t care… about your little boyfriend….”

Your eyes slam shut, back pressed against the wall and your hands hugging your purse to your chest — tightly, as if something so small could still potentially shield you from him. “Well he’s gonna b-be here, so—”

Togame. Where is Togame? Your heart pounds a thousand beats a second, eyes clenched shut harder than ever before, and you wait—

But his hand never reaches you.

There’s only a brief noise of surprise from your pursuer before it turns into something resembling pain, and your eyes flutter open.

“Jo..!”

You quickly note the faint trace of sweat along his temples, as if he had frantically searched every corner of the town before finding you. It doesn’t take you much longer to note the furrow of his brows next — the way he always does when he’s angry.

“Got yourself in a real interesting situation while I was on my way, did you now?” Togame’s grip tightens on his wrist, and he winces. His eyes flicker towards you, taking a second to make sure you’re not hurt.

He sighs in relief when you appear unharmed — aside from the slight tremble of your hands, of course, but no visible injuries. Lucky for him, he thinks, or he would have had to ask you to leave the scene.

Which leaves one thing.

“Hey… you,” the look in his eyes darkens, “what do you think you’re doing bothering her like that?”

“Cornering her against the wall …. and what was that? Tell me….” Togame lets go of his wrist, only to grab a fistful of his shirt. “Exactly what you were planning to do while I was away.”

[agnessintheocean]

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" asked Wayne one day to Eddie, it's been a week since he took him in, just a small boy with big doe eyes, he had that sad kind of look that no child should ever have. At first Wayne couldn't imagine taking a kid into his home, but when little Eddie looked at him all, he thought was, he couldn't let anyone hurt that small boy. He already had a hard enough life for someone so young, so he found himself taking an immediate liking to him, not hesitating to give him a better life, at least as much as he could. It's been just a week and it felt like he's been his kid his whole life, he couldn't imagine not loving him. His innocent toothy grin, his curiosity about every little thing, his bright eyes that light up so much when he smiles. He was just a small, beautiful boy whose childish giggle could make a man with the coldest heart melt. That boy who was laying on his couch upside down next to him, watching a silly kids show the name he couldn't remember, that prompted the question that fell out of Wayne's mouth "And what do you want to be when you grow up kid?". Little Eddie's mouth turned into a pout as he looked up at the ceiling in thought. "Kind." he answered after a moment. Such a simple and innocent answer that had Wayne smile softly. He couldn't imagine Eddie be anything other than just a kind boy. Silence took over them, just the sound of the tv on. Wayne just put his hand over the small one of Eddie's and gave it a little squeeze, the boys mind already focused back on the kids TV show, the topic flew out of his mind. And Wayne left it at that, turning his eyes onto what Eddie's pointing at on the TV screen.

Years later it's Eddie, his now boyfriend Steve (if someone said that he would end up together with Steve he would laugh at them), Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle, the best friends he made along the harsh way, sitting around in circle, beers in hand and an empty bottle in the middle, playing truth or dare, which no one remembers how they got to playing it. Once the bottle pointed at Steve, Robin asked the obvious question "Truth or dare?". Steve thought for a second "Truth." he said knowing his best friend might come up with an over the top dare, he chose a safer option. Robin, quite tipsy at this point, after a moment of silence asked "If someone asked you what Eddie is like what would the first thing you think of be?". Steve didn't have to think for long before he said "Kind.". Eddie looked up at him in surprise, his mind suddenly going back to that night with Wayne when he asked that one question when he was just a small child. He got filled with that nostalgic feeling and all he could think of as he stared adoringly at his boyfriend, who had no idea how much that one word means to him, was "Hey uncle Wayne, i did it".

[blond3ang3l]

❄️Snowy day with Batkids❄️

(Male reader)

Dick- 17 Jason- 16 Tim-12 Duke & Cass- 10 Steph- 7 Damian-5

——————��————————————————

“Get your cold ass hands off me you son of a bitch!”

“No way, not after you had us outside for two hours because you lost the key.”

You shook your head listening to your two step children go back and forth. You had came home to see them in nothing but pajamas outside to your confusion. What made it worse was that it was snowing heavy, at least 4 inches now. You had just came back from food shopping and Bruce was out grabbing other stuff. You two left the oldest two to watch their younger siblings so just how did they end up out here? You unlocked the door and pushed them into the house to warm up.

“Cmon boys. I’m gonna go check on your brothers and sisters. You two try not to kill each other please.”

Your hand went to the back of their heads rubbing it softly before going upstairs to check on the younger five kids. It was the middle of the days so the youngest two Damian and Steph were in their rooms napping. You stepped into the room and your heart practically melted. The two tended to argue about literally nothing but they looked so adorable. The two fell asleep on the floor next to each other after they seemed to have finished painting. They were covered in it and their finished products were on the floor. Steph’s was a picture of the family and Damian’s seemed to be of you, Bruce, and Talia. A small smile came on your face and you picked the two up and laid them in their beds. You’d have to bathe them later but it was so worth it.

Duke was playing quietly with Cass in their shared room. As you stepped in the two kids practically lit up. You were ambushed and tackled to the floor making you groan but chuckle as well.

“I’m glad you guys are happy to see me.”

“Daddy! Is papa Bruce with you? He said he was gonna train me when he got back from the store!”

You smiled at Cass’s eagerness to see and be like her other father. It was adorable how much you guys children adored him.

“No, but he is on his way. Why don’t you get dressed so you’ll be ready when he comes.”

She practically squealed with excitement at your words. Duke was holding on to your leg. You looked down to him and he was smiling up at you. It was damn cute, while bruce had Cass, Damian, Dick and Stephanie you had Duke and Jason who were total daddy boys for you. You pressed your lips to his forehead before letting go back to playing.

That was four now only one was missing. When you heard a sudden crash from the bathroom you knew it was the last one.

“Tim, what are you doing this time?”

He turned around and all you see is him messing with your hair and skin care. The twelve year olds face was covered in your charcoal mask making you shake your head to keep from laughing.

“I uh- I didn’t know you’d be home so soon dad.”

“Uh huh, and you seem to be havin a real good time with my stuff kid.

You wet a rag to wipe the excess away from his eyes to keep it from getting inside them.

“Need to be careful boy. Next time wait for me to help you. Or ask Dick, he knows how to do it without getting messy. And ask before you just touch my stuff, you could have been allergic to something in this”

“My bad dad.”

You hummed in response until you hand sudden thought.

“Wait a minute did you not hear your brothers knocking on the door?”

“Oh no I did. But they wouldn’t let me play the game with them so I ignored it.”

You deadpanned at your son’s words and got ready to scold him when you heard Stephanie’s small voice calling out to you.

“Dada!”

You had a long day ahead of you..

———————————————————————

I’m gonna make a part two probably next week

My Christmas sucked so writing what I want my future to be<3

[holylulusworld]

Christmas Guard

Summary: Dean won’t let you down.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: fluff, Christmas fluff, sneaky kids

He's on guard. Dean cannot allow anyone to enter the room. It would mean the end of…simply everything, at least to him.

“No one shall pass,” he says, imitating Gandalf the Grey. He chuckles at the reference to one of Sam’s beloved movies. “Wait for it, you little shits.”

He lays out a mat and two blankets on top of it. “This year, you will not defeat the master. Not again. I’ll protect them at all costs.”

“Dean?” You sleepily rub your eyes as you walk toward the library. “What are you doing? It’s three am; come back to bed.”

“No!” He shakes his head. “They will try to get inside again! I cannot allow them to do it again. Not on my watch!”

You smile at Dean. He’s so eager to defend the library, that he forgets about sleep and even food. “I know you’re on guard duty, so I brought you something.”

Sitting next to him on the mat and blankets, you hand him a paper bag filled with goodies.

“Beer, beef jerky, and pie,” he hums while inspecting the emergency ration for tough alphas and former hunters. “Uh—and you got me a candy cane too!”

“All for my strong alpha defending the Christmas tree and gifts,” you kneel on the mat to kiss his cheek. “Do you want me to stay, Dean?”

“No, you'll get some sleep. You were on a hunt for the perfect gifts for weeks and wrapped all the packages. The least I can do is keep our little critters away from the gifts till Christmas morning!”

“Do not forget to eat the cookies and drink the milk,” you say and kiss his scruffy cheek again. “My hero. Past. Present. Future.”

“Alright, ma’am,” he chuckles. “I’m on guard duty now. Please do not distract me with your beauty and perfect scent.”

“If you change your mind, let me know,” you coo before ruffling his hair. “There’s a spot in my bed for you, sexy alpha.”

He purrs low in his throat but reminds himself he cannot let the little shits win. Last time, Dean Jr. distracted him to give Bobby Jr., Charlene, and his youngest Louise the chance to sneak into the library and rob most of the gifts. This won’t happen again.

Dean grabs the beef jerky, ripping it open with his teeth. “Wait for it, little critters. I’ll not let you get away with stealing the gifts again. This time, Daddy is prepared.”

“Not so fast, Dean Jr.!” Dean is fast to stop his eldest from sneaking toward the Christmas tree. “Go back to bed or Santa will be mad!”

“But Daddy,” Dean Jr. pouts. He tries once again to distract his father, but Dean knows better. “My stomach hurts.”

“Not. A. Chance.” Dean shakes his head. “Go. Back. To. Bed.”

“Fine.” Dean Jr. turns on his heels and hurriedly walks away.

Dean chuckles because his eldest looks so much like him when he walks away, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

“DADDY!” Half an hour later, it’s Charlene’s turn to distract her father. She fakes a sob and clumsily walks toward Dean. “Daddy, my tummy hurts.”

Dean nods thoughtfully. He opens his arms for a hug.

“Come here, baby girl,” he murmurs as she runs toward her father to jump at him. “You’re a good accomplice, Charlie, but Daddy knows your tummy doesn’t hurt. Tell your brother he failed. Again.”

“Damn it!” She curses before pecking Dean’s cheek. “You’re good…too good…”

Charlie giggles before running off to report back to the leader of their little conspiracy.

One hour later, the next try takes place. Bobby Jr. silently sneaks toward the Christmas tree, almost getting away with it as Dean is busy eating his pie.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He laughs and picks the four-year-old up. He plays airplane with his son before carrying him toward the gang waiting for their member. “Not good enough, Dean Jr.” Dean grins as his eldest and Charlene giggle.

“You haven’t faced our secret weapon yet!” Dean Jr. exclaims before taking Bobby out of his father’s arms. “You’ll fail, father.”

The gang rushes off, chatting loudly, as Dean decides to move his improvised bed closer to the tree and the gifts. He won’t let his sneaky son win this time.

“DADDA!” Two hours later, Dean Jr. uses his best weapon. His baby sister, Louise. She whines and makes a fuss while crawling toward her father. She almost reaches the tree and the gifts, but Dean is fast to pick her up.

“Nice try!” He laughs, slowly rocking his daughter in his arms. “Respect, ladies and gentlemen. Admit your defeat and try again next year.”

Dean can hear his sons and daughter mutter. They were so close to distracting their father. “Next year, we will win!” Dean Jr. says before guiding his siblings away from the library.

“That’s the spirit, son,” Dean proudly says. “You make a great leader.”

When you walk into the library, the gifts are still under the tree, along with your alpha and your baby girl.

She lies on top of her father’s chest, sleeping soundly, while he has his arms wrapped around her. Dean made a nest out of the blankets to keep her from getting hurt if she fell off his chest.

“So, your mission was a success?” You giggle when your alpha blinks his eyes open. “A job well done. Can I call the kids in now?”

“Give me a minute,” he yawns. “I think Louise needs a fresh diaper and her favorite drink.” Dean grins as his eyes land on your breasts.

“We will fix our little princess’s diaper and feed her first,” you coo while picking your daughter up. “Give me half an hour.”

“Santa was here,” Dean calls for your kids, telling them they can finally take a look at the tree and the gifts. “Let’s have a loo—” He yelps as his kids storm toward the tree, almost running him over. They squeal and laugh while looking at all the gifts.

“Dadda,” Louise holds out her chubby hands for her dad. “DADDA!”

“Aw, at least my princess wants to cuddle with Daddy instead of wrapped gifts,” he sighs and takes Louise out of your hands. He rocks her in his arms, looking at the tree.

“DADDY!” Your kids yell before hugging their father. “We love you and Mommy. Let’s look at the gifts Santa got for you and Mommy first…”

Tags in reblog.

[thepixelelf]

frat president seungcheol x reader x one night romance chan warnings: slight and I mean slight suggestiveness. coarse language, alcohol, possessive (derogatory) cheol; he's toxic and doesn't know it. implications of sex and sexual acts. idk how frats work. wc: 1.8k

love triangle au requests (this one is also for @hey-blondie <3)

read part 1 first

[what's holding you back? 2] Every time his brothers decide to throw another house party, Seungcheol considers quitting altogether. He's always the one who ends up having to clean the house (with the help of an ever-nagging neatfreak Mingyu by his side, at least), always the one who has to arrange the keg delivery (with Soonyoung and his connections getting them life-saving discounts, thankfully), and always the one whose room gets miraculously broken into by some horny party-goers.

(Joshua is still scrubbing every tile in the bathrooms bi-weekly for that last incident.)

((Why he couldn't use his own damn room is still a mystery to Seungcheol.))

Despite all that, every time the boys arrange a new headache -- party, whatever -- and Seungcheol thinks about sitting this one out, they always manage to do the one thing that makes these stupid shindigs irresistible to Seungcheol.

They invite you.

And even though your course load can only be described as mountainous, your part-time job starts early tomorrow morning, and you far prefer getting at least half of a good night's sleep...

You're here. You're here while music blasts and people dance like the rent's due and something breaks every two and a half minutes, laughing at something Jeonghan said. Just within and out of reach.

You lean into the cushion behind you, your shoulders brushing his arm where it rests on the back of the couch. Seungcheol lets the warmth from your back seep through his skin like honey -- because why wouldn't he? You're comfortable where you are, and it's his job to be that "where".

"No, I'm serious!" you defend yourself against Jeonghan's teasing. A likely thing for him to be doing. "He's a total scaredy cat. That's why he always makes you guys run the yearly haunted house."

Soonyoung waves his hand dismissively. "No way. His family celebrates Halloween every year-- that's why he never runs it with us."

"As if!" With a sly smirk, you bump your shoulder into Seungcheol's side. "He hides out at my place every year, and we don't even watch scary movies, either."

Seungcheol rubs the spot you bumped even though it doesn't hurt at all. "We watch scary movies," he argues.

"Halloweentown doesn't count, Seungcheol."

"Now you're just trying to embarrass me--"

Someone calls out your name, and you turn your head, eyes widening,

"Oh shit," you breathe out.

Some guy strides up to the couch with the confidence and determination of a soldier, and every muscle in Seungcheol's body tenses.

You? After the initial surprise, your eyes brighten in that special way Seungcheol likes when you're looking at him.

And can't stand when it's anyone else.

Lifting yourself off the cushions and subsequently away from Seungcheol's arm, you approach the guy before he makes it all the way over to the couch. You touch a hand to his arm, lightly, familiar, a smile on your lips as you chuckle and say, "How the hell did you find me?"

Seungcheol's jaw clenches. He turns to Jeonghan. "Who is that?"

For once, Jeonghan was minding his own business, and he turns away from his conversation to see whom Seungcheol nodded at. "Ah," he says, all-knowing when it comes to who's who. "That's one of Seungkwan's friends. Chan. Lee Chan."

Seungcheol scrunches his nose. Chan, he mocks in his mind as he watches you lead the guy off somewhere. Lee Chan sure isn't holding back in the up-and-down glances. It's like he can't even believe you're there in front of him.

The thing is, you shouldn't be. Seungcheol grinds his teeth. The couch is where you should be, where you're comfortable and you're honey and you're next to him.

He stands.

Even though he knows the answer now, Seungcheol settles next to you, slings his arm over your shoulder, and interrupts whatever the loser was saying with, "Hey, Cherry. Who's your friend?" He lifts his chin a bit, peering down his nose at him with the closest he can get to a polite smile.

There. Lee Chan should get the message with that.

But instead of scurrying off with his tail between his legs like so many of your pursuers had before him, Chan barely acknowledges Seungcheol and just blinks at you. "Cherry?" he asks.

"Oh." You fluster a bit at the nickname, and Seungcheol grows hotter knowing Chan gets to see another one of his favourite expressions on you. "Um, the first of this guy's frat parties I went to, I drank way too much cherry vodka and did some...things. I can't even smell anything cherry-flavoured now without getting queasy." Using one arm to bashfully rub the back of your neck, you chuckle, the movement causing Seungcheol's arm to slip off your shoulders.

He looks for your eyes, which don't meet his. You didn't do that on purpose.

Did you?

"Anyway." You clear your throat and use one hand to gesture at your admirer. "This is Chan. Chan, this is Seungcheol. He's my, um..."

You look at him then, and the lack of answer hits him somewhere within his rib cage. He crosses his arms and turns to Chan. "How do you two know each other?"

He isn't used to having to ask questions like this, his reputation usually enough to deter any unwanted interactions. If this Chan guy is still standing here, though, it must mean he really, really wants to talk to you.

Chan opens his mouth, but you're faster. "Remember the destination wedding my mom's friends went to?"

Seungcheol nods. "The one where they brought you so you could watch their children?"

"Yeah." You glance at Chan, and it's almost like you're telling him something Seungcheol can't hear. "We met there."

Seungcheol's right hand grips harder onto his own arm. "I see."

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Chan says, ignoring Seungcheol once again. He sends you what must be a charming smile. "Especially not here."

"Funny." But you don't laugh. "I didn't think I'd see you here either."

Alright. Enough.

Seungcheol makes a show of grabbing your plastic cup and looking inside. "Let's go get you something to drink," he says, noting your confusion but having none of it. "Nothing cherry, I promise."

Because Seungcheol is the one who knows you. Knows your likes and dislikes, your favourite colours, how you prefer your eggs, the smell of your shampoo...

The face you make when he touches your bare skin. The way desire flickers in your eyes like the hot coals of a campfire.

You shake your head, pulling your cup back and holding it close to your chest. "I'm okay. Thank you."

Seungcheol's brow furrows. "I really think we should go to the kitchen."

"I'm fine, Cheol."

Lifting his hand, he places it on your forearm. "Cherry--"

At the same time as you step away from his touch, Chan steps between you and Seungcheol. "How about you go get yourself a drink?" he says, chest almost imperceptibly puffed out. "I wanted to ask Cherry something in private, anyway."

The nickname Seungcheol gave you coming off of this little shit's tongue makes him seethe. "Ask them what, exactly?" he says through his teeth.

Chan doesn't falter. "I'm sure you don't want to know."

"I'm sure I do," Seungcheol grits out.

"Guys..." you try to cut in quietly, but both boys are too caught up in each other to notice.

Scoffing in amusement, Chan shakes his head before meeting Seungcheol's glare. "Then if you need to know: I wanted to ask if they enjoyed it."

Seungcheol's jaw clenches. "'Enjoyed it'?" he echoes.

"Hey," you try again, somewhere beyond the red fog closing in on him.

"Yes," Chan answers confidently, crossing his own arms now. "If the sounds they made for me are anything to go by, I bet they really enjoyed it -- enough for a repeat performance."

Surging forward, Seungcheol clutches the collar of Chan's shirt in his fist. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Chan smirks, taking delight in setting him off. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Seungcheol growls, pulling his other arm back to give this guy exactly the beating he deserves, but he's half a second too late.

You shove your foot into his stomach, and he stumbles back, fingers loosening from Chan's shirt. You push Chan back by the shoulder for good measure, and when you turn back again, the anger on your face turns Seungcheol's chest inside out.

This fire in your eyes is different than he's ever seen before. Your anger is no stranger to him, from the frustrations of life and all the shit you've had to go through, but you haven't been this mad at him since...

Fuck.

Since he didn't kiss you that night.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Seungcheol?" Your shoulders rise and fall with the anger coursing through you. It's like a wall has finally fallen, the way you look at him. "You're not some rom-com bad boy. Get a hold of yourself."

Seungcheol takes a breath, holding his stomach. "Cherry..."

"What?!" You throw your hands in the air and let them fall. The hints of the brawl that almost broke out had caught the attention of some people around already, but your exasperated voice turns even more heads. "What, Seungcheol? You decided you don't want to fuck me, and after that, you decided no one else can either?"

"I... That's not..."

You huff. "I don't care. I actually just don't care anymore. You know why I didn't tell you about this? Do you know why I never talk to you about this kind of shit?"

He doesn't want to know. But he has a feeling he needs to. "Cherry..."

"Because I knew you'd react like this," you tell him, eyes cold. "Why is it that just because you won't have me, I'm not allowed to have anyone?"

When Seungcheol has no response, Chan returns himself to the picture, standing beside you and putting his hand at the small of your back.

You spin. "And you." An accusatory finger gets thrust in Chan's face, settling under his widened eyes. "If you think you're getting a" --you spit the words-- "'repeat performance' after airing out my shit like that for some dumbfuck pissing contest, you're obviously not the same Chan I met before."

Mouth opening and closing like a fish on the chopping block, Chan sputters for a few seconds before you seemingly decide you don't care about what he would have to say.

You storm off, straight to Soonyoung, whom you grab by the arm and ask to take you home. He spares one glance in Seungcheol's direction, then nods at you with concern on his face.

He knows something Seungcheol doesn't, and it makes Seungcheol want to throw up.

With you gone, the party resumes its usual chaos and volume, although Seungcheol can feel the stares from every direction. Chan disappears somewhere. He doesn't care.

Somehow, Seungcheol finds himself back on the couch. It's a lot less comfortable without you next to him.

Jeonghan sits down with a sigh. "You fucked up, didn't you?"

Sunken into the cushions, Seungcheol shuts his eyes. "I've been fucking up."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Seungcheol brings his hands up to his face, and he digs his palms into his eye sockets. "I don't know. Fuck. I don't know."

[livefromthedas]

That Time Flirting Accidentally Worked

(Also up on AAO3, here)

Summary:

Rook Ingellvar, famously a dumpster fire amongst Mourn Watchers, manages to fall face-first into dating one Emmrich Volkarin.

Nice.

Notes:

I swear to God I intended to start DATV fanfic writing for my Lucanis/Rook playthrough... but this came out instead. Strike while the hyper-focus iron is hot, I guess.

I tried to write this Rook (F, Mourn Watcher) as vaguely as possible while still making sure she was reflection of the character in my head, so hopefully that works for readers.

Please note that while I'm utilizing quite a bit of canon knowledge about Navarra and Navarran culture, here, there is also a ton about the place that we just do no know, so a lot of information here is extrapolated (aka, pulled directly out of my butt.) I had fun though, at least, exploring more of the place, and creating my own little pocket of extra romance content for Emmrich and Rook as well.

And yeah, this will probably get spicy. Just a heads up.

———————————

Chapter 1: Hot Date for a Hot Mess

The needling fire of over-exertion kept a purposeful momentum in Rook’s stride the entire journey home from their latest magic-riddled battle with the Venatori in Arlathan.

That fight, deep in the autumn hewn forest - an apparent ambush - had been jarring and brutal. Had Davrin not been with them, with Assan to serve as their own surprise attack from the sky, Rook was quite certain that, for all of their combined competency, she and Emmrich Volkarin may very well have met a swift, very bloody end that day.

There had just been so many of them - Scarlet scythe’s crackling with arcane energy, and corrupted magic churning in the air like a turbulent storm. Then again, when it came to Venatori, there always seemed to be a limitless supply.

Rook breathed in deep as she strode through the Vi’revas - the eluvian unique to the Dreadwolf’s hideaway in the Fade - close on Emmrich’s heels. One moment they were in the Crossroads, wild and untethered to reality as it was. The next, they were striding into the cool, dark nethers of the Lighthouse.

“Ugh,” Davrin grumbled, reaching to pull something that looked suspiciously like viscera from his hair as he strode through the eluvian’s surface in the pair of necromancers' wakes, “I’m going to go wash up. See you two at dinner?”

Rook smirked bemusedly - of all of the blood the Gray Warden was soaked through with, Maker forbid a bit of viscera get in the handsome elf’s hair. She nearly went to nod, when Emmrich spun on his heels to face the pair of them.

“Actually,” the Professor poised, hands clasping before him as his bangles glimmered in the unnatural light of the corridor, “Would you be so kind as to let Lucanis know to be expecting two less settings at the table this evening? Rook and I will be dining in Navarra.”

Rook’s eyebrows rose curiously - this was news to her.

“Yeah, no problem,” Davrin grinned. He gestured a hand over one shoulder as he made for the door, “You kids have fun.”

Kids . The word lingered humorously in the air - Emmrich barely stifled a chuckle at it, even in the gray warden’s absence.

“A trip home is a nice surprise,” Rook mused, mischief and curiosity a glint in her eyes.

The senior necromancer, dashing as ever, offered her an arm, and she was quick to place a hand at his elbow as he guided them from the room, and up the stairs.

“Forgive me, darling, I had hoped to ask you properly once we were settled in,” Emmrich said, gloved hand resting warmly upon the slender hand she’d offered him, “Reservations at the Pnemoix are scarce at best this time of year, and I received word of an opening just prior to our departure to Arlathan.”

“Yeah, that got chaotic rather quickly,” Rook admitted, ever as tired, but relieved they were alive to tell the tale at all. For all of her raised hackles that needled up her spine over the ambush in the woods, a tickle of excitement wiggled its way into her belly, “And I’ve heard of the Pnemoix!” Her sudden excitement was palpable. Word amongst her peers back at the Necropolis had it that the Pnemoix was one of the most exclusive- and enchanting - dining experiences in all of Navarra City. It was not far from the city’s main entrance to the Grand Necropolis itself, in fact. Emmrich could scarcely stifle the humorous glimmer in his eyes as the bounce in her step hastened as they strode. He finally slipped a chuckle when her expression then screwed with uncertainty, “Aren’t they ridiculously expensive, though?”

“Hardly any concern of yours, my darling,” Emmrich laughed.

Cresting the top of the stairs that overlooked the Lighthouse’s eerie library, the Professor stopped before the long hall that led to his study. Rook watched curiously as something shifted in his demeanor - warm laughter settling into something warmer still, slender hands and their menagerie of golden rings gracing her arms with an almost reverential care.

“I had hoped, should the temptation arise,” Rook felt a wildfire blush ignite to the tips of her ears at his sudden unusually intimate word choice, before he’d so much as finished his sentence, “We may enjoy the privacy an overnight at home might afford us.”

Emmrich’s grin broadened at the blatant blush that flooded the young woman’s typically cocksure expression, a softness in his gaze despite the hint of mischief that lingered there, “You so scarcely find a moment alone in the Lighthouse, my love. You’ll forgive an old man his selfish desire for attention undivided.”

“I-I… of course,” Rook managed, despite her blush, a dizzying flutter in her chest and her tongue-tie of nerves.

“And the decision is entirely yours,” her breath caught in her throat as he pressed a kiss upon her forehead, one hand affectionately upon the back of her head, “But do consider it, darling, hmm?” He seemed absolutely tickled at Rook’s uncharacteristic shyness as she nodded, green eyes alight with racing thoughts. This was hardly a woman prone to speechlessness, after all. “I’m going to change, and request Neve look after Manfred until we return. Meet me at the Vi’Revas when you’re ready.”

Rook managed a nod before Emmrich swept off airily, stride as confident as ever.

——————-

“Okay… Oookay,” Rook finally managed to breathe again once the ancient chamber doors of her quarters sealed shut behind her. Gaze darting around the dancing light of the aquarium that dominated the far wall, she huffed a ragged sigh, palm to her forehead.

Embarrassment immediately flooded her veins.

“He finally brings it up and you… freeze? Seriously?” She groaned morosely.

At best, Rook was disappointed. It was hardly how she’d imagined reacting to such an opportunity, after all. The Rook of her imagination was unflappable in her confidence - *she* surely would have managed an air of alluring …. *Something* in response to such a proposition. A wicked flirt. A lingering kiss. A clever quip of any make or model at all.

But no. Only overwhelm. Rook had been flooded with a timidness utterly foreign to her usually fearless brogue.

Scythe-wielding Venatori, raging demons, blighted gods… Such larger than life dangers too surreal and too vast to seem anything shy of absurd? That she could handle with a finesse and fearlessness that defied logic. It was precisely why Varric had brought her into the fold in the fight against Fen’Harel to begin with.

“But actually have the fellow you’ve been pining over for the last decade make a pass at you, and your brain breaks ? Maferath’s balls.”

The sordid swear she’d picked up from Varric early in their journeys together at least managed a smile from the woman. She shoved off from the door, kicking off muddied boots and unbuckling the patina’d gloves of her Mourn Watcher gauntlets as she went.

Rook had had little choice but to be honest with the Professor once her shoot-for-the-moon flirtations had, to her own genuine surprise, actually succeeded in swaying his interest so many weeks prior.

This was all… very new to the junior Mourn Watcher. So much of her time growing up had been spent clawing desperately for a sense of self. For the sort of identity that a complete lack of kith, kin or clan denied her for the whole of recent memory. Certainly until one Varric Tethras had swaggered his way into her life and corralled her under his wing.

Something as complicated as dating just never found its foothold with her focus, amid so many years of simply trying to find herself.

She was an elf in a largely human community, a non magic user - despite her endless fascination with the craft - in a society that prized its mages above all. Both facts of which pushed many of her superiors throughout her collegiate studies to blow off and even mock her ambitions towards more magic-focused areas of study.

Rook was an academic at heart - A voracious learner and reader. But for all of her passion, she was still very much an outsider. She was the foundling discovered abandoned deep within the Necropolis - lucky to have been found alive at all - Taken in by a kind and doting pair of elderly Mortalitasi, Gunter and Eloise Ingellvar, who had even gone as far as bequeathing their inheritance to her upon the last of their dual deaths some years later.

But they had gone too soon - Rook had barely been 12 when the old woman had died - and she was once again left as a ward of the Necropolis and its Watchers, who seemed to see less value in an orphaned elf with no magical talents to speak of. Frequently outright denied access to her preferred areas of study due to their prized and limited availability (such courses should be reserved for mages who might make the most use of them after all, and the university’s donors were rife with promising young mages as heirs) she was relegated, instead, to training as a fighter. A protector. A watcher of the Watchers themselves.

Just one extra corpse between demons and the ones whose work actually matters, more like, she thought. She swung open her ornate wardrobe, eyes scanning her limited choice in clothing critically as her thoughts poured from one memory to the next.

Those days were rife with turmoil. Rook had volleyed equally between hours of grueling fight and defense training, classes in basic sciences, necromancy, anatomy, funerary preparations and the Fade, and time dedicated purely to stirring up shit in the streets of Navarra City.

Fights. Petty theft. Stirring up chaos in the market square with a prank or three - one of which had, to her own amusement and pride to that very day, saw a surprisingly large number of bees in a leading role.

Throughout her years of collegiate learning, Rook carried the rage of a clever mind stifled and of dreams dashed, and it had landed her under the threadbare patience and steely gaze of the headmaster more times than she could count. That the Mourn Watch had been tasked with her care as much as her training was likely the only reason she hadn’t been thrown out for good.

It also hadn’t hurt that Rook had proven incredibly adept at combat despite her general lack of interest in the task (outside of a good tavern fistfight, at least.) There was also the curiosity that was her study habits. Her grades in basic courses were passable at best from sheer lack of interest, yet when time and little pockets of determination allowed, she could be found holed up in the Necropolis’s expansive library for hours, even days on end, pouring over every tomb her low-level clearance would allow, creating many tombs further of dense, meticulously detailed notes.

She was at least trying, in her own way, her superiors knew. And where their interest in her full potential failed her, her own thirst for learning minded the gap. Even if she was denied the chance to pursue her major of choice… lectures in the Grand Necropolis’s halls of learning were as free and frequent as the availability and seating of its various expansive lecture halls would allow.

Those educational sermons were hardly for the faint of heart or feeble of mind. They required many dedicated hours, copious notes, and a level of existing understanding of necromancy, the occult and Navarran history as a whole that *should* have been enough to bar a student of Rook’s study tract access by sheer lack of access to advanced classes alone.

But Rook had done the work. Had soaked up every scrap and parcel of knowledge she could, entirely on her own. And in each and every lecture, perched dutifully in the shadows at the back of the room, she soared.

Which was precisely where the good Professor had graced her peripherals, time and time again.

Even nearly a decade prior, Professor Emmrich Volkarin was something of a legend on campus. Prodigiously intelligent and equally skilled in both oration and genuine fondness for the eager young minds he fostered, Rook was hardly immune from the childish swooning over the otherwise utterly unattainable genius that captivated his students with every speech and demonstration.

“Volkarin’s hangers-on.”

Johanna Hezenkoss’s recent jeer at Rook’s expense still made her cheeks run hot. Rook had never been that - certainly not as the insult Hezenkoss intended.

But Rook and Emmrich were both well aware of whom the half-Litch referred to.

Hair a little darker and warm eyes a little bit brighter then, The Professor was too clever and adept at reading people around him to have remained oblivious to the fact that not only were the large majority of doe-eyed students trailing him from office to lectern and back largely of the female variety, but they were also almost always a bit more coy than was comfortable to be sharing a room with for too long. It was always impressive, then, to Rook, just how coolly and kindly said attentions were quite unanimously blown off by Emmrich himself.

He was never once cruel or condescending, but ever the consummate professional. He paid his students’ motivations no mind outside of whatever question he was fielding, or what knowledge he wished to impart, either.

Rook later overheard whispers among a gaggle of gossiping young mages in the privy that, apparently, “half of the fun” of flirting with the man to begin with was trying to “find a crack” in their charming yet unflappably stoic Professor’s perfectly tailored facade.

Of which there was nary a one, as far as Rook knew at the time. The man simply did not budge.

Which was why, despite never having had the stones to so much as approach Professor Volkarin with a question before meeting with him in the catacombs with Bellara months prior, and with nearly ten years of confidence that only incredibly hard work and some life experience could provide, Rook was genuinely floored when her own good-humored and (mostly) unserious swings at flirting with the man *actually worked.*

Rook had only dared shoot her shot with the man with the full confidence that in all likelihood (and at absolute worst) he would simply glance past the attention with his usual jovial kindness. She took a swing at it for younger-Rook, who would have thought it the coolest thing ever, future-Rook finding the sort of confidence her younger self found so foreign.

And the man actually expressed interest. Just fully (warmly as ever but with a degree of coyness Rook had no idea actually existed prior) stated that if, in fact, her projected interest went beyond mere flattery… he was down.

“Hell of a bullseye on the first draw, there, Ingellvar,” she had mused to herself and inevitably shared with Emmrich multiple times since, much to the Professor’s amusement.

Rook pulled the only pretty, non-Mourn Watch related article of clothing she owned - a deep purple gown and its immaculately tailored overcoat - from the wardrobe, before clipping the doors shut with her heel.

Naive shock aside, it wasn’t as though Rook hadn’t been equally delighted by Emmrich’s unexpected response. She had become even more enamored with the fellow in the past many months, as he spoke with her not as a student but as a colleague. An equal.

He adored her thoughts and her intellectual curiosity, and had said as much - often. He was ever the academic, as enthusiastic about answering any question she had as she was to learn the answer. But he was also genuinely interested in all of the knowledge she had gathered in the past ten years - Her interests in Navarran archeology within the ever-ancient Necropolis halls. His in Necromancy and the Fade. It had become a frequent, deeply adored line of conversation between the two of them, in fact - just how often their individual fields of study crossed in application.

Emmrich Volkarin was every bit as charming as his passionate yet professional demeanor would imply. But what Rook came to learn very quickly upon reconnecting with the man was that, on a personal level, he was one of the most compassionate individuals Rook had ever met. He cared deeply, about everything - particularly, it seemed, about the ragtag troop of adventurers she and Neve had since managed to assemble. At 52 years of age, he also, as it turned out, had zero qualms about dating someone - regardless of gender persuasion - over 20 years his junior. He’d simply taken his work as an educator far too seriously when he was young enough to find any interest in university students, let alone misuse the power dynamic between teacher and pupil - and they had, decades later, well since lost their appeal.

So, now, here she was. Two months into the most absurdly romantic courtship she could imagine, given the sheer chaos that surrounded them otherwise.

Fancy dinners. Time spent exploring the Necropolis to feel more grounded - that little bit of home going a long way to keeping them both fixed on the battles that just kept on coming. A recent night stroll through the streets of Navarra City during the ancestral pageants, their darkly artful city glistening with lanterns and wisps.

Emmrich Volkarin was ever a man of his word, too. Early on, when a bashful Rook mentioned her lack of experience in any such relationship, he had promised they’d take things slow, and they absolutely had. Endeared and warm as they were, his kisses were chaste, and his presence around her respectful of her space and autonomy. It had only been since she had started pushing boundaries that he had reciprocated in kind.

Longer, deeper kisses. Tousled hair. Hands wandering with far more bravery - and far more urgency - from both parties, amidst long nights full of even longer conversations.

The cracks in Emmrich Volkarin’s perfectly tailored facade were showing. And, Rook grinned to herself despite the blush reaching her ears, they were admittedly * delicious.*

Rook fastened the copper skull-shaped buttons upon her overcoat before fishing for Varric’s shaving mirror and checking her hair.

She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d expected the acceleration of their relationship to go. Perhaps more spontaneously, and likely in the Lighthouse, despite neither of them having particularly comfortable quarters - his with little more than a cot to sleep on that was otherwise hidden away, and her own space often as chilly as being overlooked by an enormous deep water aquarium would imply.

She certainly didn’t expect it to turn into a Pnemoix-worthy event.

It was, frankly, the first time Emmrich had taken the lead on the direction of relations between them. He had planned every romantic gesture their messy schedules and frequent travels would allow, sure, but every acceleration where intimacy had been concerned had been entirely on Rook.

But, it felt right, the timing.

She wondered if this was his way of saying he felt the same.

Rook slipped on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses (her vision never had been the best, but she’d only just taken to wearing them more faithfully at Emmrich’s encouragement, and insistence that he thought them, “Positively charming.”)

With a flutter of excitement in her chest Rook spared a careless hope that she might make it all the way downstairs to the Vi’Revas without any of their friends asking enough questions to rattle her nerves anymore than they already squirmed.

——————-

The journey was quick and blessedly uninterrupted. Punctual as ever, Emmrich had already arrived. He turned to greet her as she strode his way, having been surveying the towering Eluvian with an air of curiosity just moments before.

Lean and immaculately dapper as ever, golden rings and bangles over luxurious shades of black and jade, a smile swept his features so genuine that it stole a smile from her own.

“Rook,” he mused warmly, “You look exquisite.”

“Could very well say the same to you, Professor,” Rook teased, hand once again gracing the elbow he lent her.

“Shall we?”

[galacticlarry]

🌟2024 FIC RECS🌟

Here's a list of fics I read in loved in 2024. I read 208 fics this year, and, although I really struggle with choosing favourites, these are a few of them. I tried to limit it to one fic (or series) per author to avoid this list being the same people over and over.

🌟 Nest To You by Neondiamond / @neondiamond (T, 14.9k)

Everybody knows it’s in an Omega’s nature to nest, and Harry is no different. From the very first nest he builds to comfort himself when feeling homesick to the nest he one day brings his new pups home to, his Alpha Louis is there to witness it all.

Or: Ten different nests Harry builds throughout his relationship with Louis.

This one was adorable. Truly one of the cutest fics I've read.

🌟 Heels Over Head by kingsofeverything / @kingsofeverything (E, 3.4k)

Louis Tomlinson returns from tour to find that his new next door neighbor doesn't realize his backyard is not completely private.

This one was so funny and I kept giggling the entire time I was reading it.

🌟 Just Another Card Again by tippitytap / @tippitytap (G, 3.7k)

Dear reader,

this is a story of Harry and Louis falling in love through greeting cards and being neighbours.

With love,

Clifford

This one is so so so cute! I love the concept, and the links to all of the cards they used is such a perfect detail. I am absolutely obsessed!

🌟 When the idea of someone is often wrong, write fanfiction to fix-it by INnenaHeart / @thechavier (M, 2.2k)

"Haz? Are you… are you writing porn?"

Harry typed for a while longer, and when he put the last comma, he raised his head and looked Louis in the eyes, as serious as Louis had ever seen him.

"No Lou, I'm writing August Moon fanfiction."

"Which is basically porn."

"No, it's f-a-n-f-i-c-t-i-on."

"You say fanfiction babe, and all I hear is p-o-r-n."

Harry sighed.

"Yeah, ok, it's porn. It got plot though… and feelings!"

or Harry can't do much about movies being made about him or the idea people have of him, so he writes fanfictions in his spare time.

This one is really funny and surprisingly sweet.

🌟 Larry Holiday Series by Specksofgold (E, 13.8k)

A collection of five fics, all taking place during different holidays.

This was such a cool concept and I admire the dedication to the theme. I also loved getting to see their relationship evolve as time passed.

🌟 Hiding Green Smiles by HoldingOnToChaos / @holdingontochaos (E, 45k)

Louis’ heart is racing in his chest. The idea of temporary bonding—letting Harry bite down right on that spot without it being a real bond—makes his mouth go dry. He didn’t even know something like this existed! His mind fills with all the possibilities and questions. What’s it going to feel like? How will it affect his orgasms? How will it affect Harry’s knot? What parts of a bond does it simulate?

When Louis goes with Liam to a hidden sex shop, he discovers a new sex toy, the BiteMat, and he can't believe his luck. He loves being bitten, has a biting kink, even, and now he can be bitten over his bonding spot without the fear of anything permanent.

He hastily buys it to try with Harry, his friend and roommate, and his regular heat/rut partner for the last eighteen months. They've been friends-with-benefits outside heat or rut for eight months now, and Louis' been desperately in love with Harry for at least five of those months.

--

Or the BiteMat fic

Everything Lora has posted this year has been absolutely phenomenal and choosing one was REALLY difficult, but I ended up going with this one, because it was the first one I read and I'm kind of attached to it. I love how cute and caring they are, but MY GOD are they stupid! I could genuinely talk about this fic for hours (I'm sure I have) but I have to keep this somewhat short. And, again, the urge to include all of Lora's fics in this list is strong, but I shall resist it (go read them anyway).

🌟 I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright (E, 2.7k)

Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own, texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.

This one is so good, and cute, and sweet, and I just love it! I'm a sucker for a bit of yearning.

🌟 the "Falling" series by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (T, 4k)

A collection of two fics taking place after Harry and Louis break up.

These are painful and beautiful and everything in between and I love them a lot.

🌟 The Coach Tommo Universe by enchantedlandcoffee / @enchantedlandcoffee (E, 9k)

A collection of seven fics where Harry is a single parent to his twin girls Megsie and Becky, and Louis is the little league coach of the team Becky plays for.

These are so so sweet. I love their dynamic and their cute little family.

🌟 Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics (M, 20k)

In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions. The leader of Colorful Hearts, a therapist named Harry, is positively swoonworthy and sets Louis at ease right away. Needless to say that Louis isn’t aware yet that so much more than the color of his spunk is about to change.

OR

The Rainbow jizz fic, a mood ring orgasms AU

This one is so incredibly silly (which I'm sure anyone could guess from the summary alone), but it's also so soft and sweet and I just love it a lot!

🌟 put a little love on me by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry (E, 29k)

Two people who are always taking care of someone else’s needs while ignoring their own, just happen to cross paths.

Such a sweet fic!

🌟 Not the Desperate Type by lululawrence / @lululawrence (NR, 6.3k)

“First of all, I’d like to tell you how disturbing it is that you’re this familiar with your neighbor’s sex life,” Liam said, amusement lacing his tone.

“Fuck off,” Louis said, laughing.

“Second, that is really very sad. How bad is the stomping? Are you sure your neighbor doesn’t like it fast like that?”

“With the amount of cleaning the guy does, I think he’s taking out his sexual frustration on the cleanliness of his apartment. I can’t imagine the guy makes enough mess to require daily vacuuming.”

It sounded like the guy was actually moving furniture above him as he was sweeping now. Damn. Did Louis miss the seven minutes in heaven or was the guy angry because he didn’t even get that much pleasure today?

“I’m kinda afraid with the amount of noise he produces while cleaning that one day I’m gonna look up through my ceiling and be able to see him.”

“Tell him we wish him a better sex life and that we’re rooting for him if you do.”

Or the one where Louis' neighbor has a series of unfortunately short sexual experiences and Louis can hear every. Single. One.

This one was so silly and funny. I loved it!

🌟 Eyes so blue, Shorts so red by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense (G, 2.6k)

Harry isn't like any roommate Louis has had before. For one, he doesn't know what a poem is (or skee-ball, for that matter), but luckily for him, Louis doesn't mind answering any and all of his questions.

*

Or Alien Harry discovers poetry.

Such a lovely fic! They're just so so so cute!

🌟 speak now or forever hold your peace by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (E, 23k)

“So, Louis is getting married.”

Zayn just blinked at him and gave a single nod in response to Harry’s sudden topic change.

“That’s all?” Harry asked. “That’s all you’ve got to say about it? Louis is getting married and all you do is nod your head?”

“What do you want me to say?” Zayn burst out laughing. “I didn’t realize that Louis was someone we still talked about.”

“He’s not,” Harry said firmly. “But right now --.” Harry let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Louis is getting married, okay? And he sent everyone an invitation -- he let everyone know -- but me.”

or the one where Harry crashes Louis’ wedding. (A Love, Rosie AU)

This one was frustrating but also very cute and funny. I really enjoyed it!

🌟 The Moon Cradles All by galastyles / @disneydimples (G, 7.1k)

When Louis was a child, his mother told him about Christmas Fairies, magical beings that would assist the Christmas efforts in the North Pole by watching every child and helping to make the final decision to whether they would be on the Nice or Naughty list. When he had a daughter of his own, he told her the same tale. At least, he always thought it was a tale.

This one is so cute and wholesome and I'm absolutely obsessed with it!

🌟 A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings (M, 44k)

Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. He loves the money, and the peace and quiet of the empty mansions he looks after. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

I read this as a wip and I was always looking forward to those updates. They're just so sweet and gentle with each other and I loved every second of reading this!

🌟 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo (E, 79k)

“Louis, what do you have to say about how last week ended?” the reporter asks.

There’s a moment of silence. Harry is looking at the reporter, but eventually gives in and looks down the table at Louis.

He’s looking straight ahead, as if Harry isn’t even in the room.

“If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.”

Harry leans forwards, placing his arms on the table and leaning onto them to get as close to his microphone as he can while looking at Louis.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Louis turns to him, his icy blue eyes meeting Harry's. “Driving is your fuckin’ job, act like it.”

In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

aka the one where Louis and Harry are childhood friends to enemies to lovers over the course of 15 ish years.

This one was so captivating from beginning to end, I genuinely couldn't put it down. It also managed to make me have any kind of interest in sports, so that has to count for something, right?

🌟 Cabin on the Bluff by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (E, 6.7k)

A collection of three fics depicting different moments in Harry and Louis' summer romance.

These are so so so good! There's just something about getting tiny glimpses of this universe that makes it so intriguing and I want to know more.

🌟 All You Want's Under Your Nose by Wishingforloushair / @wishingforloushair (E, 3.5k)

Louis decides to treat himself to a new sex toy, but is perplexed when he sees a man in the shop placing each vibrator against the tip of his nose and sneezing. Curiosity gets the better of him, and it turns out the man, Harry, is a sex-god who knows far too much about sex toys and promises Louis that if a vibrator makes him sneeze it will definitely make him come. Of course there's only one way to find out for sure…

“Oh,” the man furrowed his brow. “It’s to test whether or not the vibrations will get me off.”

Louis stared at him. “That’s not a thing, is it?”

“Oh, yeah,” the man nodded, emphatically. “The nerves responsible for making you sneeze are the same ones responsible for making you orgasm. So when you’re buying sex toys it's always a good idea to test it to see if it will make you sneeze. Or your girlfriend. Whoever you’re using the toy on.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Louis found himself saying.

The man’s eyebrows raised for a split second. “Me either. I’m Harry,” he said, holding his hand out for Louis to take.

“Louis,” he said, taking it firmly. “I don’t think that’s real though.”

This one is really funny and the smut is great too. Loved it!

🌟 Someone You Couldn’t Lose by InsightfulInsomniac / @insightfulinsomniac (E, 19.2k)

For the past three years of university, Harry worked hard to push his romantic feelings for his best friend aside. Now that they’re in their final year of uni, his omega has other plans that slip through the hairpin cracks in his restraint.

Thankfully, Louis readily indulges his incessant and rather out of control nesting behavior. While their closeness doesn’t help Harry with his unrequited feelings, he at least knows that he’s not revealing his deepest secret to the alpha unintentionally. Louis’ genetic lack of a sense of smell allows Harry’s feelings to fly under the radar.

For now.

A uni AU where nesting behavior and a little body oil sparks a much-too-affectionate friends with benefits relationship that has some very unexpected outcomes.

This one was truly adorable.

🌟 everything of mine is yours by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (E, 33k)

"Did you two have a good time?”

Harry in his bathroom, brushing his teeth with frizzy hair and tired eyes. Harry on the couch cuddled up with Posy, cradling her in the crook of his elbow, humming a soft song. Harry laughing with his friends in a pub on a Friday night, a flower field in his eyes. Harry in his bed tucked under the covers, naked against fresh sheets like a shock of moonlight cutting through a storm.

“Yeah,” he says. “We did.”

or: With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

This one was heartbreaking and painful and so so so beautiful! I loved every second of it and never wanted it to end.

🌟 Scarred by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16 (E, 23k)

As a male omega, Louis has learned to live with disappointment and rejection, but he dreams of the day he finds his soulmate. When Harry inadvertently rejects him as his soulmate, Harry has no idea he's doomed Louis to a slow, painful death.

Pride doesn't keep Louis from telling Harry the truth. But love does.

This one broke my heart and then put it back together. The angst, their relationship, the friendship between all of them, just all of it really. Truly an amazing read!

🌟 we could be enough by HelloLovers13 / @hellolovers13 (M, 5k)

“You know I am flirting with you, right?”

Louis freezes mid-bite. Just manages not to choke on his steak.

Harry laughs a bit too loudly, almost like he’s nervous. “Yeah, should’ve known you weren’t the observant kind. You think I get this dressed up for a random dinner with a mate on a Tuesday night?”

or

Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is.

Then he meets Harry.

I can't get over how sweet this one is. I love that Harry is so supportive and so willing to make Louis feel comfortable and accepted. Truly, a beautiful story.

🌟 It's Not That I Don't Want You by parmahamlarrie / @parmahamlarrie (E, 12.5k)

It begins with a benign comment during a night in watching a show with his lovely boyfriend, Louis, and leads Harry to a months long journey to understand himself better. Will Harry figure out what makes him feel so different from everyone else? And will he find the courage to tell his boyfriend?

Or a character study into Ace Harry with the most supportive boyfriend, Louis.

This one was so emotional and sweet. I loved Louis' willingness to understand Harry and support him the best he can.

🌟 So perfect for me by reallynotmemoi / @reallynotmemoi (NR, 580)

Louis surprises Harry by giving him flowers.

This one was short and sweet. I loved it!

🌟 Just a taste of your lips by grapejuice_babe (E, 13.3k)

"I'm a firm believer in love at first sight, babe. You didn't have to walk by five times."

"Oh, hush."

"I'm going to politely request for you to make me."

-

Or, the five times Louis knew Harry was his soulmate and the one time it was confirmed.

Such a wonderfully written, sweet and funny fic. I couldn't stop smiling. Rest in peace, Addy.

🌟 Always Come Back To You by whoknows / @crazyupsetter (E, 28k)

“I’ll do it,” Harry offers brightly. No one even blinks. “I’ll do it?”

Louis sighs irritably. “Shut up,” he orders, tossing a pillow in the general direction of Harry’s face. This is a terrible time for jokes, especially Harry’s lame, old people ones.

Not that it was an old people joke. Just that most of the time Harry’s jokes consist of knock-knocks or terrible puns. The type of jokes old people like, Louis’ pretty sure. His nan always finds them hilarious when Harry tells her one.

Harry bats the pillow out of the air without even blinking. “Be reasonable, Lou,” he says in his most reasonable voice.

Louis is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much, and he’s also frustrated and upset and tired and he really wants to punch something. Maybe he should have held on to that pillow a little longer.

“You’re not gonna fucking do it,” he snaps. “That’s the last thing I need.”

This one was very cute and at times quite silly. They're both complete and total idiots, but I love them, even though I want to yell at them just a little bit.

🌟 When I Think About You by phdmama / @phdmama (E, 4.6k)

Harry is beautiful, inexperienced, and curious. Louis is smart, seasoned, and comfortable in her own body. When Harry has questions, just maybe, Louis has the answers she’s looking for.

And… they’re roommates.

This one is so soft and sweet, and the little "twist" towards the end is everything to me.

🌟 Blue Nights by SilverStuff50 / @silverstuff50 (E, 55k)

Louis does what he needs to do to make ends meet, and if that means showing his body to make money, so be it, he'll use the gifts he's been given to keep him and his dad safe.

When a mysterious benefactor starts to make demands on him, Louis has to question whether its the money or the man he's most tempted by.

This one was so so so good! I'm truly obsessed with how perfect they are for each other and how much they care about each other. Such a well written fic!

🌟 Suddenly They're Right by sapphichug (E, 22k)

Helene smiled, the wrinkles by her eyes and mouth flattering her face. “That sounds lovely. And you didn’t even fool around? Isn’t that the whole point of spending the night with a friend with benefits?”

“We’re not that, we’re just…we’re just friends.”

“Who sleep together. Literally and figuratively.”

“Yes.”

“How is that not being friends with benefits?”

Louis huffed. “Keep your voice down, please. I do have a class going on, if you didn’t notice. And I don’t know, but that sounds so…immature and sleazy, and that’s not what we have.”

Helene leaned closer and aggressively whispered at him, “Because you also have romance and meaningful feelings for each other and everything a real relationship has, sans the label.”

✶ ✶

Louis is a painting professor with an art block the size of Texas and a global superstar for a non-boyfriend, who he wants to keep.

a fic about feeling stuck and learning to free oneself

This one was so moving and so emotional. I wish I could come up with something that would be good enough to describe it, but I'm not very good with these things. I'll just say that I almost cried reading the comments on this fic, because all of them were so beautiful and I'm so glad that this beautiful story received so many beautiful comments.

🌟 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf (E, 17.9k)

Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

This was painful but so incredibly sweet, my face started to hurt form how much I was smiling.

and a bit of sameless self-promo for good measure

🌟 Enough To Wish For More by galactic_larry (M, 33k)

Louis Tomlinson just wants a few days of peace and quiet while his family are out of state. But when he meets the lead singer of a band he’s never heard of, his life and everything he thought he knew about it changes forever.

Harry Styles just wants to get his new guitar and then he’s leaving Haverhill, Massachusetts as fast as he can. But when he gets lost and asks someone for directions, he finds a lot more than the street he was initially looking for.

A long, complicated, painful, fucked up story about love.

Choosing one of my babies was difficult, but it had to be done since I did it for everyone else. This is genuinely the best thing I have ever written, probably the best thing I'll ever write too, and I'm immensely proud of it.

[lexirosewrites]

for slick sunday, i've been thinking about this very specific idea for the last two days (it's been adjusted slightly to fit the "new" theme for this week just bc i think it's fun :) )

thinking of alpha eddie and omega steve in a secret relationship. they've been courting for ages, on the cusp of mating, but they've been waiting for the right time. neither of them were quite ready to take their relationship into the world, and that's exactly what would've happened had they mated. see, eddie is very much in the public eye. his band is, like, really out there. not quite world famous, but they do a lot of press and a bunch of different projects and such. eddie was recently featured on a relatively popular song, and the others have been in movies/tv shows as one-off side characters here and there. point is, people know who they are. and the paparazzi knows nothing about privacy.

it's not exactly easy to hide a mating bond (tho it is possible), so they just decided together that they would wait.

and then steve gets pregnant.

they still don't mate yet, but it changes everything for them. they know they're not going to be able to hide it for long. part of steve is a little relieved, honestly. he'd never say it out loud, but he missed the days before eddie got famous. when they could go out on dates and grocery shop together and just generally exist together in public, even though they were still keeping it pretty low-key back then too.

steve mostly stays home during the first several months of his pregnancy. it's hard on him, and there are days he can barely get out of bed because he feels so sick. he gets lightheaded easily, and he's constantly nauseous. the doctor said it's normal. he just needs rest and fluids. so that's what he does. and they talk, a lot. about everything.

eddie never makes a formal statement about their relationship, that's never been his vibe. he does, however, hard launch their relationship via one photo on social media. it's of him and steve on new years, standing in front of the christmas tree they hadn't taken down yet. they're wearing those headbands that have the year in giant, flimsy, gold numbers, facing each other. they're foreheads are pressed together, and eddie is grinning like a goddamn idiot bc of how in love with steve he is. steve's six-month baby bump is between them, and eddie's got his hands over the sides. it's captioned with a simple, "new year, new adventures with the love of my life"

obviously, that photo practically breaks the internet within two hours. it's everywhere. everyone is talking about it. the band doesn't say a word, outside of gareth logging into the band account to share it on their story, and the others sharing the post on their own accounts. they all just go on as normal, like nothing ever happened. they don't answer any of the comments. the band is seen coming and going from the studio a few times over the next month and a half, and then nothing. radio silent on all fronts. everyone wants to know what's going on.

it's at the end of april that people finally get their answer, in a series of photos posted to eddie's account. photos of a tiny baby; some with steve in them, some with eddie, but mostly just the baby. hailey jo munson (jo, after wayne, who's middle name is joseph; he definitely did NOT cry about that, thank you very much) was born on april 5th, happy and healthy and loved.

four months after that, eddie is seen leaving a grocery store with bags of baby supplies in his arms, a wedding band on his finger, and a fresh mating bite. no one is the least bit surprised by that one.

and no one is surprised in the slightest when a year and a half later, after corroded coffin's probably most successful album is released (there's a couple songs that are not-so-secretly about hailey, tho eddie really did try to be subtle), another pregnancy announcement goes live on eddie munson's account.

happy slick sunday my friends :)

i know slick sunday has ruined me because i kept waiting for something bad to happen😅 thank you for the fluff!!!

[nanaken330]

In which you're talking about your Nanami's future plan

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem!reader Tws: Unedited, mention of pregnancy, pregnancy planning, y/n's shenanigans, and prob cringy too. Idk, tell me if I forget to add more. ^^

---

I hope the new year will bring more joy or at least kinder to us all.

Omake (of sorts(?), idk):

Y/n: Then the next thing I heard is the student saying u were rushing to find me at Shoko's office, lol. xD Ken: …I think that's pretty understandable considering you disappeared immediately right after casually dropping the news like that at me especially when I wasn't even prepared for it. Y/n: I just thought it'll be hilarious! xD Sorry, love. I won't do it again next time, promise! ;) Ken: … Y/n: Hm? :D Ken: …There won't be a next time again? Y/n: ? :D Yeah! Pinky promise! Ken: But you promised me children? Y/n: … Y/n: Wait pause, I think we're not even talking about the same topic.. ;;; Ken: I seem to recall about you telling me about having more than one earlier when we were texting. Y/n: …Now that's a little bit of a reach, I don't think I ever said that?? Ken: I do, I remember it vividly 😊 Y/n: Actually, you know what? Let me go get my phone (about to stand up) Ken: No, no. (Holds her still) Your phone's battery's dead, remember? It's currently in the middle of charging. Y/n: (Successfully Distracted) Oh? :D You found my charger already? Ken: I haven't, unfortunately, but I will try to find it later when we're home. Y/n: (disappointed) Oh, alright then. Then who's charger are you using? Ken: I bought a new one while I was driving my way here 😊 Y/n: You mean racing your way here… Ken: Details, darling😊 Now back to the baby plan we were talking about, I- The end.

[inkk-tv]

[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ]

Chris plants his forehead on the table, taking a deep breath as he watches the astro turf. He’s well gone, but Lucy and Arthur, who is now just drawing shapes on the inside of her forearm, aren’t much better off. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin. 

in which: Chris attempts to not have another life crisis during a pub golf video and is failing miserably.

3.7k words [ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three, coming soon... ]

[oc x arthurtv x chrismd]

[warnings: Excessive drinking, sexual innuendos and light sexual content]

Chris is torn. 

Logically, he knows football pub golf is a content gold mine. It could easily be one of the best videos of the year, especially with the team line ups. On the other hand, the last time Chris filmed a pub golf for Chip's channel some eight months ago, it ended with him so fucked he'd uprooted his entire life twenty four hours later.

Mid to late twenties was not a good time to have a sexuality crisis - and Chris speaks from experience. Why it took 11 drinks and joking that he'd shag his best mate for space hopper-ing over a bollard to realise he genuinely wanted to snog him silly, Chris isn't sure.

In retrospect, he'd probably fancied Arthur way back in sixth form, sitting with him in every class, dragging the poor bloke to join his football team. The biting should have been a hint. 'Cuteness aggression', as a session of hungover googling informed him, is horribly common. Chris was so torn up about it all that he talks it over with Shannon the night after, when he's not sure if the urge to vomit is from nerves, guilt or the hangover.

He tries to tell her that it doesn't have to change things, that he still loves her. But she still calls it off.

He can't really be mad at her for that, so it's amicable. The two of them weren't built to last much longer anyway; if marriage was in the cards, Shannon wouldn't get snippy anytime her mother brought it up and Chris wouldn't feel nauseous every time he saw an advert for rings. If they were destined for 'forever', talk of marriage wouldn't sound like an expiration date.

Chris spends a couple of months sorting out all his shit and takes a long hard look at his own feelings.

Everyone is sort of weird about the break-up. For a while they all sort of act like it's temporary. Once he puts out a statement though, his friends take that as confirmation that it's actually over. Arthur -Hill not TV- and George take him out drinking a few times as self declared experts in heartbreak and the single life. Their ventures have the three of them planning to move in together when their leases expire in October. Harry corrals him onto a few dating apps and Chris humours him because how is he supposed to tell the guy that women are the last thing on his mind and that he's head over heels (and possibly in love with) one of their mates, who is noticeably a bloke.

At least this time the pub golf is for his channel, so if there's another earth-shattering life crisis, he can edit it out at the least. Save himself the embarrassment of seeing the clip every few weeks on TikTok. Luckily, Chris is not the kind of man who loses all impulse control when faced with a couple of pints.

He is admittedly two shots up already and they've only just settled at hole four. If anything's going to set their team back, it's this. Chris knows the moment he sees Jamie, his production assistant, walk out with a tray of wine-glasses all of which were bordering on over-filled with rosé. 

"Oh god," Lucy groans, her head pitching forwards to thud onto the table. Jamie just smiles as he places the three glasses around the halo of blonde hair. Her next complaint comes out muffled. "Why wine? I can't do wine."

"Come on, Luce." Chris grabs her shoulders to drag her back up straight, shaking them a few times for good measure. "Where's all that team spirit gone?"

"Come on En-ga-land, Score some fucking goals." She quotes, putting on the thick northern accent for it.

Seeing as Chris is a little too far gone to keep explaining the rules at each pub without hurling insults at his friends, Jamie's the one who does it this round, citing that each drink must be fed by a teammate.

"I got a great trick for this one," There's a bit of a slur to Arthur's words, but that could just be him and not the alcohol. Then again, he did do a shot when they got to the pub ‘for fun’ which will most definitely bite them in the arse. "We hold hands and squeeze depending on ho-"

Arthur hiccups halfway through his sentence and it's enough to get a snort out of Chris and devolve Lucy into giggles as he continues. " -how, how much you want."

Chris goes first, and Arthur’s hand is warm in his own as he pours the wine into his mouth. 

Although, when it’s Arthur’s turn and Lucy grabs the wine glass off the table, she frowns. “You’re too tall for this.”

There's not that much of a gap between them with her heels factored in but it's enough that to get her arm up and angle the glass right, it would certainly be uncomfortable for Lucy.

“Come on, tip toes surely.” Arthur says, but she’s already got a hand on his shoulder.

“On your knees, Television.” She says it so calmly, pressing lightly on his shoulder- not enough to push Arthur down, Chris knows he’s stronger than he looks, but he goes anyway.

Something that’s horribly aroused stirs in Chris’s stomach, watching Arthur drop to his knees in front of Lucy, mouth open as she leans down just slightly to press the glass against his lips. He grips her wrist instead of her hand and swallows every mouthful of pretty pink rosé so eagerly that there’s evidence of it left on her skin, little crescent indented where his nails had dug in.

It’s awfully sobering to realise that Chris might actually have to fight a semi while filming.

There’s been jokes about it, in the past few years as his content has matured along with his audience and those sorts of comments were left in the final cut. But Christ, watching Arthur lick his lips clean of wine, not even moving to stand until Lucy pulls him to his feet by the hand, that’s enough to make anyone sexually attracted to men a little off kilter. 

He’s never really had the ‘awkward boners’ at least not since his teenage years. Chris is pretty sure it’s something to do with the messy ball of crossed wires that is his sexuality, the fact he never really gets a hard on for someone he’s not head over heels for but he’s not really put much time into untangling that.

Although, he might need to do that soon. 

Something about the way Arthur looks at her, as if from the moment she put her hand on him, she was everything- the centre of his universe. 

Not that Chris can really blame him. Lucy’s always been captivating like that. He’s not a moron, Lucy’s attractive, objectively. She’s cute, green eyes, light tan to her skin that’s more from sunshine than genetics, and blonde hair that's half pulled back with a white ribbon, a couple strands falling in front of her face. Round cheeks that push up towards her eyes when she smiles, a little tip up to the end of her nose. She’s got the kind of features that would make Chris pause on those stupid dating apps he only swipes though when Harry’s looking over his shoulder. 

Arthur yields so easily for her, blinking at her with those brown eyes and chewing his bottom lip a little, hands still messily entwined together as Harry makes a poor sex joke. 

It’s an orbit that Chris has watched many men tumble into before, the gravitational pull of Lucy Bell. There’s something about the way she carries herself, a confidence that makes eyes drawn to her. On night outs, there’s mixed reactions. George and Arthur Hill love it, girls are more than happy to chat and linger at their table, eased in the risk of approaching a bunch of men in a club by the presence of a woman like Lucy. 

He thinks about all the dickheads he’s seen try and fail to make a pass on her, as Chris picks up the final glass of rosé.

Lucy has, and will continue to, drink Chris under the table, but she is under or just about five foot six. And There's only so many miracles a liver that size can facilitate. Maybe she’s a little further finished than he thought, because when he holds the wine glass up to her, and clasps their palms together, she just isn’t taking it like she was earlier.

“Come on Luce, down in one.” He murmurs, “You got it.”

A little dribble of it runs down her chin and into the curve of her throat, but no one calls her on it and Lucy is left gagging on the taste of rosé that she’d downed. She’s squeezing his hands tight as she recoils and pulls a face. Chris rubs her back and gives it a couple of pats as she leans into his side. “I hate rosé.”

Arthur reappears with three glasses of water, precariously balanced in his hands and he deposits one in front of each of them. It’s the best drink Chris has been given all day and he can’t help the words that slip out. “Oh my god I love you.”

No one blinks at it though, not Arthur, not Chris. He’s said it before, there’s no reason for anyone to think it means anything more than it used to. 

Lucy doesn’t bat an eye, just gives Arthur this awfully soft look before guzzling down half the glass in one go. Until Stephen drops a balled up napkin on the floor and kicks it between her feet, nutmegging her.

Honestly, Chris had sort of forgotten about writing that rule into the video and he sort of feels bad now. Lucy’s probably going to be the only victim of it for the afternoon, because everyone else is far enough gone that they’re a little fuzzy on the rules too.

She and Stephen do shots of baby guinness together (because apparently he just wanted to?) and Chris has to stare into his water glass, tracing patterns on the condensation with his thumb so he doesn’t stare at Arthur and imagine him at the foot of his bed, on his knees for Chris. Complacent and content. 

Chris kind of wants to curl in on himself. 

Beside him, Arthur’s hand slips down from Chris’ shoulder and along his back, stepping around both him and Lucy, hand slipping to her waist and along the curve of it as he ducks back inside the pub. 

There’s jeers from the German team and Cal follows Arthur inside to make sure he’s not chundering in the bathroom. 

“Chris, I’m not gonna lie,” Lucy leans into whisper, “I don’t think I’ll be standing by the end of this video.”

She looks utterly gone. Her eyes are wide, and there’s a little sheen to the column of her neck, maybe from the wine she’d dribbled or the haste to skull the water she was handed. This close, he can see the lines of her makeup, where the eyeliner is a little shaky right at her lash line and the few eyelashes that are clumpy with mascara.

It’s the drunkest he’s seen her in a while, and she’s probably only one drink off of ‘cartwheel Lucy’- the stage of intoxication where she feels the urge to display her impressive coordination that she, annoyingly, never loses no matter how much alcohol she’s ingested.

Chris tips his head forwards and bites her deltoid. Teeth sinking softly into the fabric of her jersey until he can just feel the solidness of her shoulder underneath. Lucy startels, a little, whines then swats at Chris until he retreats half a step.

She looks at the bite mark on her pristine England Jersey, wiping at Chris’ spit as she scoffs and scrunches her nose up a little. "I’m going to catch diseases off you at this rate.”

There’s about half a second where he considers making an STD joke, but there’s a camera sitting on them and it feels a little disrespectful to suggest something like that. 

Lucy frowns down at the black line on the inside of her wrist. “Where’s Arthur, I need a tally mark.”

And the man of the hour is dragged from the Pub’s entrance, clinging to Cal, looking significantly more gone than he had five minutes ago. The wine must have been hitting hard. 

Supposedly, there was no puke, but for the antics Arthur received a red card, putting the English team even further down the hole they’re stuck in. It doesn’t help that the other team all get their drinks down in one.

Not that Chris was really paying attention, he was too busy watching Arthur poke at Cal, enjoying pressing his buttons. 

“How many holes do we have left?” He asks once he’s settled back into his stool.

Chris snorts. “Me after five drinks on a saturday night, am I right?”

Arthur holds his hand up for a high five, but Chris has his arms crossed and his brain is working a little slow to catch it before the palm is descending into a playful smack on his face. He grabs Arthur's hand with both of his and licks a fat stripe up his palm, tongue feeling the roughness of calluses from the gym and the faint taste of beer. 

The reaction is immediate. “Noooo!”

Arthur recoils and wipes his hand of spit on Chris’ jersey. 

Lord, Chris must be so much further gone than he thought, because he just devolves into giggles, even after fully licking his best mate’s hand. It’s only when Jess, his production manager, starts herding them down the footpath to the next pub that Chris finally gets a handle on his giggles. 

Somehow, when they make it to Pub number five, everyone- including his own employees- goads Chris into climbing the tree opposite it. Which earns them two points deducted, so they’ve almost worked off the red card from Arthur’s endeavours with a toilet bowl at the second pub.

The Vodka Oranges are, mercifully, only one standard drink. Although, Lucy’s still looking a little queasy at the prospect of downing it. “I hope this doesn’t have pulp.”

Arthur frowns and holds his drink up in the light to get a better look. “I don’t think so.”

“If there’s pulp I might actually throw up. I can’t do the texture.”

“Can’t say I’m a big fan either.” The downwards tilt of Arthur’s lips is painfully cute and Chris kind of wants to lean over and bite at him, but he’s not supposed to be doing that today. Instead he huddles them closer together, like was in the plan for pub five and they have their half-time strategy meeting. 

“If either of you puke, I swear to god I will never forgive you.” Chris says, focusing very hard on not slurring his words. “We can’t lose to Stephen Tries. He already carries this channel enough.”

“Come on- I’ve done plenty.” Arthur complains. “I got Harry three shots deeper.” 

Admittedly, an impressive feat, but it’s still about thirty less shots than Harry WroeToShaw needs to start feeling the effects of Alcohol and far from enough to recover from all the penalty points he’s been earning. Chris tuts “Only one of us has climbed a tree so I really think that you guys need to step up to the plate at this point.”

The pair just stare at him, and for a moment, Chris sort of loses the plot in Arthur’s eyes. “You’ve got very nice eyes.”

They are. A nice dark brown that sort of looks like pots of honey, mesmerising while Chris blinks into them, with a sort of depth that makes it impossibly easy to sink into them. He’s better at it now, remembering to look away, but the alcohol’s got him a little slower to catch it.

“Christ, they are nice eyes.” Lucy agrees leaning in to get a better look at Arthur, who’s blushing a little from the attention, then towards Chris. “You’ve got good eyes too.”

Arthur nods eagerly. “He does have lovely eyes.”

“Lucy, your eyes are great.” Chris pivots, hoping to save his brain from malfunctioning, onto Lucy, planting a hand on her shoulder to lean in close and study her eyes. 

They’re more green than blue, wide as she processes how close he’s gotten to her. He’s heard people say the grass is greener on the other side, but looking at Lucy’s eyes, it might just be true. It’s almost like staring at the overgrown grass of his childhood football pitch, some streaks a little darker than others, and the underlying feeling that there’s something to be found there, if one cared to look a little deeper than surface level. 

“Oh, they are.” Arthur agrees, squinting a little as he peers at her. 

All three of them have completely lost the whole ‘strategy meeting’ plot that was supposed to be their halftime regroup and by the time Chris untangles himself from their eyes, it’s time to down the vodka oranges that have been sweating condensation down their wrists.

Cal corrals both teams into a cheers and miraculously, everyone manages to get it down in one. 

Thankfully, they’d figured people would be a bit gone by pub five, so a nice lengthy walk proceeds pub six.

Chris just about hangs off Arthur the whole time, who at first is a little distracted by texting George Clarkey in an attempt to convey how ‘sober’ he is, but eventually slings his arm over Chris’ shoulder and lets him stay there. He tries to not stir things, lest he be shoved away, instead basking in the bloody amazing smell of Arthur cologne as it mixes with his deodorant. Chris couldn’t name what either of them smell like, but it’s a scent that’s so uniquely Arthur he wouldn’t be able to associate it with anything else.

“George says he’s gonna come pick me up from the last pub.” He declares, shoving his phone into Chris’ face. It’s a little too close to read, but he squints and tries anyway. Arthur only gives him a few seconds before pulling the screen back and pocketing it. 

At one point in their walk, Chris bites at his wrist where it hangs next to his face but it’s not enough to chase him off. 

“Next pub golf, it’s twenty quid per bite.” Arthur grimaces, whipping the back of his hand of spit down the front of Chris’ jersey. “Lucy had the right idea.”

“I think you owe her a tally mark. Maybe.” Chris frowns, trying to recall if they’d added the last nip. 

“Luce!” He calls. “Did we add the last tally? From Pub four with the rosé?”

She’s about ten meters ahead, tangled up with Stephen as he tries to wrangle her into some kind of hug or headlock, it’s a little unclear which. For a moment the pair of them freeze, and Lucy does that little frown and nose scrunch she does whenever she thinks particularly hard on something. “No!”

Then she kicks Stephen’s sneaker and he bowles over, caught off guard. 

“Yellow card! Yellow card!” Arthur shouts, pointing so obnoxiously that Chris almost wants to tell him it’s rude. “Ref, that’s diving!”

Cal dishes out a Yellow card and Stephen goes back to trying to deck Lucy, via bowling her knees out from under her. But by the time they make it to pub six, he’s managed to weasel a piggy back out of her and the two of them pause by the gate to point out where ‘live music: ChrisMD Diss-Track cover band’ is written in neat print of the blackboard. 

The two of them are gone, and it’s probably lucky that Lucy isn’t the kind of drunk that gets clumsy, otherwise the two of them would never have managed to make it through the beer garden benches without knocking into one. Arthur isn’t as lucky, knocking his shin against one on his way over to the tables his production team has claimed. 

“Ow.” He whines as Chris gets his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, shaking him until they’re at the seats and he’s shoving him off in fake annoyance. “Get off you leach.”

He digs the pen out of his shorts pocket, and bites the cap off, keeping it wedged between his teeth as he calls out to Lucy. Her name comes out muffled around the cap but she deposits Stephen and collapses next to Arthur, who grabs her wrist. There’s an awful lot of concentration on his face for something as simple as drawing a line. 

Chris plants his forehead on the table, taking a deep breath as he watches the astro turf. He’s well gone, but Lucy and Arthur, who is now just drawing shapes on the inside of her forearm, aren’t much better off. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin. 

They fall into their own little bubble as they start up a series of naughts and crosses games. Chris has to kick them under the table to gain their attention when Cal starts explaining the pub-quiz rules. The aim was to guess the cocktail themed pun based on the footballer’s name. 

Chris wasn’t expecting greatness to begin with. He knows his footballers, but Arthur and Lucy don’t really know them by name and face- unless they play for the teams they support. There’s a much higher chance of a Man United player showing up than a Brighton player, so Lucy might be completely out of her depth. 

They manage to break even only because the German team are shouting out the footballer’s names and failing to relate it back to a cocktail, so the three of them can steal the point out from under them By the end of it, they’re left with a martini, a strawberry daiquiri and a rum punch. 

Chris gets the easy way out and is handed the martini, Lucy recoils once she finishes her rum punch, a shiver racking her spine and Arthur struggles to drink his daiquiri that is filled with ice, though a piss-weak paper straw. 

But it’s down in one for all of them, even the other team.

As he hauls himself to his feet, the gin hits him like a truck. Enough that he stumbles half a step back. Chris knows, as he catches the worried look his production team are giving him, that his hope of ending the afternoon without puking, was a lost cause. 

[ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three, coming soon... ]

ink note: part two! poor christopher's got it bad. this is our last chris chapter for a while, so pray for the poor lad.

[ if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

[dream-thief-forever-amen]

I love that the “hero” is still the absolute worst in season 2.

Let us explore the evidence.

Spoilers below:

1. Does not get on the plane to be a father to his child… his supposed motivation to earn money in the first place. Even when he has billions. In fact he’s become even more distant and unreliable, not even communicating with her any longer.

2. Promises to care for that girl’s younger brother but dumps him off on an old woman without explanation and a bag of cash. Continues to watch this old woman raise this random kid while working her old bones off in an outdoor market. Just like he watched his own mother work herself to death to care for his fully grown butt.

3. Does not use his considerable fortune to get the kid’s mom out of North Korea - just does the bare minimum with one broker.

4. Hoards his wealth to pursue his private obsession. Spends two years wasting away in his private hobby hotel and still does not have a solid plan or even good ideas about how to handle the murder island - and has not attempted to outsource this large problem to others better equipped to solve it.

5. Still has not realized the old man’s gamble at the end of season one with the homeless man only required that HE go down and help the dude or go down and get someone else to work with him to help the dude instead of just watching and hoping something would happen (This is arguably the theme of the show).

6. Gets back into the game but does not tell a single soul it’s a murder machine until AFTER they have all signed up, been photographed, and marched onto the field to be slaughtered.

7. Did not check in on or help his friend from season one, even though they were still in the same city and his friend was struggling. Now that poor sod is also in the game.

8. Doesn’t make his impassioned speech to convince others not to continue the game after round one - nope, not until over half have already voted and his own side is losing.

9. When the majority votes to continue the game, he makes no attempt to try to reason with or plead with those who voted to stay, even though they only lost by a narrow margin. The entire group stays divided and refuses to work together. Ironically it is two characters from the other, majority side who make a point to reach out to him. One of them shares his personal story of why he voted the way he did - swaying hearts and minds - which is ironically what our “hero” should have done. Except he doesn’t have a sad story of circumstances - he is the sad story.

10. Later our male lead finally thinks it’s time to perhaps attempt to sway some hearts and minds and is instantly talked out of it cause it might stir up trouble… in the murder game… the irony…

11. The completely haphazard plan to take over the facility by disarming the uniformed guards. Even though he knew they were outnumbered, there is surveillance everywhere, and he had zero plan of what to do next. Leaving the majority of his “team” to fend for themselves (and be murdered) while he secured the strongest among them to hide in wait.

HE IS THE WORST.

Is it a case of being your own worst enemy, of mental illness, of selfishness, stupidity? Is it soupical tendencies born from disappointments? Is it just in our DNA?

I don’t know. But I do think this show has gone to great lengths to show us repeatedly that the male lead is someone who doesn’t know how to care for others.

His sweet daughter loves him dearly but you could already see she was old enough to be disappointed in him. There was pity there too.

Money can’t change your bad habits or your crap personality.

This man didn’t even invest his money so that at least the interest could fund a few orphanages or homeless shelters in perpetuity. Nope, he’s got it sitting around on a mattress.

I also find it interesting how many older women are still trying to raise fully grown men in this show. The male lead’s mom. The mother of his dead friend who our male lead tosses another son onto. The mom contestant in season 2. There’s too many for it not to be commentary.

I’m glad we have shows like this though. Cause there are no easy answers. This island is just a symptom of a larger problem, one that can’t be fought alone. It will take many heads coming together to even start to unravel the mess we are in.

Anyways… looking forward to the finale. I would not be surprised if our lead male becomes a new commander of the games at the end.