#every day of my life I live in wonderment of the miracle of his full head of hair

[writing-the-stars]

Moonlight Miracles

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: On the night of your escape, you lose the love of your life. Or so you thought.

Warnings: Angst (Nothing's changed), Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Typical Vampire Diaries Violence, Death. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I have been working on this story for TWO YEARS!!! I'm honestly just relieved to have it finished finally. The title admittedly sucks, but I believe the story makes up for it. Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy. Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

The fabric of your underdress billows at your feet as the crisp night air washes over you. You cling closer to the trunk of the towering White Pine– the rough bark tugging at the fabric of your garment. You hope to shroud away in the depth of the forest, hiding from the unwanted gaze of your village in the shadows of the looming trees. Your hair wafts gently in the breeze and a shudder travels down your spine as the chill of the night seeps into your bones. 

You wait, patiently, for your betrothed in the same location you met him every night for the past four full moons, hiding in secret as you exchanged solemn vows and acts of romance– planning for this day to arrive. Your deerskin bag rests at your feet, filled with the goods you plan on bartering for your passage into your new life. Away from the cruelties of Elijah’s father and the prohibitory life your father has arranged for you. Away from the danger of the men who turn into beasts who have taken so much already. You have lived through 20 winters– it is time you take your life into your own hands. 

“Hello, my love.”

The silence that encapsulated you is suddenly broken– a sharp gasp breaking through your lips. You turn swiftly, finding your beloved with an endearing smile gracing his lips– looming in the shadows of the trees. A smile adorns your face at the sight of him. 

“Elijah, you frightened me.”

He emerges from the shadows– the pale moonlight illuminating his porcelain skin. The unobstructed view of your betrothed robs the smile from your lips– something was wrong. While he appeared to be the same man, there was a chilling air of danger around him– one that was never there before. 

“I’m sorry,” the brunet apologizes, gliding over to you, “I did not mean to alarm you.” 

His hand is frigid as he places it against the downy surface of your cheek– the alarming contrast of temperature making you flinch away from the very touch you used to crave. 

“Elijah, your hands are freezing,” you proclaim to the Mikaelson, attempting to gather his large hands into yours to provide them some warmth. You are confused to find the usual rough texture of his calloused hands has now been made smooth as if he had never labored a day in his life. 

Elijah’s laughter pulls you from your musing and the warm familiarity of it eases your concern. You would never grow tired of the sound of his joy– it is a sound that has comforted you through many sorrowful evenings. It is a sound that reminds you, despite the struggles the two of you face, everything will be okay. 

“What?” you inquire, curious of the moment’s motivation for your favorite sound, but he simply shakes his head, knowing how useless your endeavor is. His body will never be able to emit warmth again. 

The Mikaelson looks down at you with his keen eyes, studying all the details he was unable to perceive before. The unique blend of color swirling your eyes, the distinctive pattern of strands that design your hair's texture, and the subtle lines and contours that create the structure of your face. A chill creeps up your spine as he examines you– the pools of chocolate brown shine with an intensity, a darkness lurking within their depths. It unsettles you. Your hands, instinctively, retract from his, your feet placing a small amount of distance between you. A frown draws on Elijah’s lips at your sudden shift in attitude. 

“Y/N, beloved, what’s the matter?”

There is a sharpness to his voice– one that holds a lurking threat, sending shivers down your spine. You are conflicted about your next course of action. All of your body is on high alert, telling you to run from the danger before you, but your heart urges you to stay– only seeing the man that you love so dearly. Elijah takes a step toward you, attempting to close the distance you have subconsciously put between you, but you continue to add more to that distance. The Mikaelson grows frustrated with your newfound prudence of him– the darkness within growing stronger. 

You watch, fearfully, the animalistic nature in which he moves toward you– a predator stalking its prey– as you finally come to a disturbing conclusion. The man before you is not the man you fell in love with many moons ago. There is a dark evil living inside of him now, consuming every fiber of the man you knew before. Adrenaline courses through your body, tears painting your cheeks, as you realize the danger that you are in. You run. As far and as fast as you can– desperate to escape the creature taking over your betrothed’s body. 

You run to your home– the same place you were desperate to flee mere hours ago– only to be stopped by Elijah’s sinister figure, suddenly in front of you again. Eyes widened, you come to a halt, astounded by his swiftness. You step back, in an effort to get away from him; however, your foot catches the skirt of your underdress and you stumble back, landing on your rear.

Elijah approaches you menacingly– eyes blood-red, shining in the moonlight while tiny black veins dance underneath. A gasp of horror escapes you at the sight. In all of your winters, you have never seen anything as terrorizing as the display before you– whatever your beloved is now, it certainly is not human. 

“W-what are you?”

Something breaks within the Mikaelson, seeing you tremble in utter fear at his feet. It pains him to watch you, the great love of his life, be absolutely petrified of him. 

The monster subsides, retreating back into the depth of his soul and, for a moment, you see the man you fell in love with break through the darkness. Your heart softens as you stare into the tender umber eyes that stole your heart moons ago. You slowly reach out to him– frightened that if you move too swiftly, your beloved will disappear and that creature will resume its place. 

Your hand never meets him as a guttural cry tears from his lips– face contorted in the most grisly display of abject agony. Elijah falls to his knees, the blood-soaked tip of a blade piercing through his chest. You scream for him as if that will somehow undo the act that has been done.

“What did you do,” you cry out in horror as you look to your sister who stands horrified– hands shaking feverishly. 

“Y-you weren’t in the room when I woke, so I-I grabbed Father’s blade for protection and went to look for you. When I found you, y-you seemed frightened, so I thought he was attacking you. I-I did not…,” your sister stutters through her tears, realizing the gravity of what she has done. Her first reaction to your danger was to stop the thing that was hurting you; however, she did not want to kill the Mikaelson boy.

A sob rips through your throat as you cradle his pallor face in your hands. His blood seeps into the garments of your dress, horrifyingly warming your body from the crisp chill of the night air. 

“I am sorry,” your sister cries, bile rising in her throat, “I thought I was protecting you.”

Another sob wracks through your body as you clutch his lifeless body to yours, willing life back into him. You know it’s a useless endeavor, but you have to try anyway.

“Leave,” you command your sister, unable to stand her presence any longer. She took the love of your life away from you and had the audacity to grieve. 

“Y/N, I-”

The sickening sound of your father’s blade tearing through Elijah’s body once again as you pull it from his chest leaves your sister silent. The action makes your stomach churn as you shove the hilt into her chest, “Just go.”

Your voice is dark– heavy with the hatred you now hold for her. Because, in spite of the creature Elijah had become, you still loved him with every fiber of your being. To you, he was still the same man whose winsome smile charmed you the moment he wielded it on you. The same man who always strived to make the impossible happen for you just to see you smile. The man who was willing to leave the family that he loved and the life that he knew just to be with you. He was absolutely devoted to you and you were to him, willing to give him everything you have, everything he could ask of you. Now he is lost to you forever– the hole in your heart being the only remnant left of the love you shared. 

-*-

You stand in front of the Mikaelson home, unaware of how you came to be before the residence. You are certain you walked the distance, but you have no recollection of leaving the forest. Nor are you aware how long you have been standing in front of the wooden dwelling.

“Y/N,” a voice calls to you, luring you from the dazed state you found yourself in. The figure of a man appears before you, one you soon recognize to be Klaus. Concern is etched into the features of his face at your disheveled state. The tear stains blemishing your face and your soiled, bloody garments not signifying a good thing. 

“He’s gone,” the words push past your lips, your voice dry and void. A numbness courses through your veins robbing you of feeling anything else. You believe it to be a blessing from the gods above. The nothingness is preferable to the torment of mourning him.  

“Who?” Klaus inquires, hands grasping your shoulders in an attempt to keep you steady. You appear seconds away from crumbling, only adding to his unease.

The silence intensifies as you struggle to force your mouth to shape those dreaded words.As the silence grows heavier, the more indefinite the Mikaelson’s worry for you grows. He knows of the secret love affair you have with his brother. Initially, he was adamantly opposed to it; with your families being rivals, he knew the fury his father would unleash if he discovered the betrayal. But as he observed you, his perspective began to shift. Witnessing the gentle way you treated his older brother—the tenderness, the unwavering care, and the joy you brought into his life—Klaus realized that you were the best thing for his brother. He came to cherish you as he does Rebekah, and seeing you in such profound despair deeply unsettled him.

You can only shake your head, paralyzed by the weight of the unspeakable truth that clings to your tongue, refusing to be voiced. The fear of solidifying such a grotesque reality makes you hesitate. The blond gazes past you into the darkness, his eyes searching for some trace, some hint of what has transpired. 

“Y/N, where is Elijah? Did he meet with you?” Klaus questions once he has confirmed there is nothing hidden beyond you. 

Your lip starts to quiver as the dam holding your emotion begins to break. With a shuddering breath, you manage to utter, “He’s dead.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your knees collapse beneath you, unable to bear the crushing weight of your sorrow.

“Elijah. He’s dead.”

You sob as the second coming of your grief crashes over you with a force even more devastating than the first. A raw, piercing pain tears through your chest, shattering your heart with the finality of the truth. The sobs that wrack your body are deep and relentless, leaving you utterly inconsolable. Lost to the world around you, you are entirely engulfed by the consuming abyss of your sorrow. 

The third eldest Mikaelson son stands in disbelief. His mind struggles to comprehend the meaning of your words. How could his brother be gone? That shouldn’t be possible. It defies all reason, especially given the curse that should protect them. Yet, the raw, palpable intensity of your grief casts a shadow of reality over the implausibility of the situation.

Klaus gathers your trembling form into his chest, his heart aching with each ragged breath you take. He desperately wishes he could offer you an explanation, something to ease the unbearable pain that clutches at your soul, but he's unsure if he can. Unsure of the nature of vampirism– doubtful of its functionality altogether, given the depth of your sorrow. The Mikaelson is at a loss for how to comfort you, grappling with the profound helplessness of the moment. However, he is certain of one thing. If his father were to see you weeping in his arms, his wrath would be uncontrollable. So, Klaus carries you back into the woods where he lets you sob until every tear is spent and you have nothing left to give. As he holds you, he scans the shadows of the towering pines, almost expecting his elder brother to emerge with one of his infuriatingly calm reassurances. But the forest remains silent, offering no solace beyond the embrace of the darkened woods.

Until. 

“Y/N.”

The achingly familiar voice pierces through the suffocating silence, cutting straight to your heart and freezing you in place. You hold your breath, paralyzed by the fear that this fleeting sound might be an illusion—your mind’s desperate attempt to soothe the unbearable ache constricting your chest. Yet, despite the gnawing doubt, your ears strain with desperate hope, yearning for any sign, any hint of the voice’s reality, clinging to the faintest possibility that it might be real. 

“Y/N, my love.”

You release the breath you have been holding— eyes drifting to the blond Mikaelson, seeking confirmation of the impossible. When you find Klaus’s gaze fixed beyond you, you know that this must be real. That he must be real. 

You turn to face the man you lost mere hours ago, stunned by the miraculous sight before you. There, bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight, Elijah stands as impeccably whole as he did before the night's horrors unfolded. His chest, the place where your father’s blade had torn through him, now unmarred. His eyes, which had once struck fear into your heart with their cold, sinister gleam, now hold a profound, unwavering love.

Klaus releases you gently, allowing you to approach his brother. 

“Elijah?” you call for your beloved— voice barely a whisper. You fear anything louder may cause him to disappear. 

He takes a step towards you, the movement graceful and deliberate, “It’s me,” he replies, his voice steady and reassuring.

You reach out tentatively, still uncertain if this is merely an apparition. But as he draws nearer, his hands grazing your skin— his cool touch leaving a wake of sensation in its path— the sheer reality of his presence overwhelms you. A sob of profound relief and unspoken hope bursts from your chest as you envelop him in a desperate embrace, clinging to the tangible warmth of your beloved.

“You’re here,” you cry out, pressing Elijah as close to you as physically possible, uncaring of the discomfort of the fabric digging into your skin. You cling to him with an unwavering grip, anchoring yourself to the Mikaelson and vowing not to let him slip away from you once more.

“I thought you were gone,” you cry into his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic, “I thought I lost you forever.”

Elijah's arms encircle you with a tenderness that matches your own desperation, holding you just as tightly. “I’m here, my love. I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered heart.

You pull back just enough to gaze up into his umber eyes, your voice trembling with disbelief, “How—how is this possible?”

Elijah's lips curl into a gentle smile as he brushes a strand of wind-swept hair from your face, relishing the chance to hold you close once more.

“I am stronger than you know,” he says softly.

You stare at him, your mind a whirlwind of confusion as you struggle to reconcile the living, breathing Elijah before you with the haunting image of his lifeless body. Your fingers roam over his face, his hands, every part of him within reach, desperately seeking the tangible reassurance that he is truly real.

“Elijah, I… I saw you… You were dead,” you stammer, your voice quivering with confusion, “How can you be here?”

His expression is one of gentle understanding, “I know, my love. I am not entirely sure myself, but I promise you, I am here. I will always come back to you.”

Klaus observes the reunion silently, a rare smile touching his lips. “It seems the universe isn’t ready to part you two just yet,” he says softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of unspoken emotions.

Elijah turns his gaze towards his brother, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you for looking after her, Niklaus.”

Klaus nods, stepping back to grant you both some much-needed space. “Just make sure to keep her safe, Elijah. Father won’t be pleased to learn of this.”

Elijah’s eyes return to you, his resolve unshaken. “I will,” he promises with unwavering certainty. “We will find a way to be together, my love. No matter what it takes.”

You feel the warmth of his words seep into your bones, dispelling the lingering chill of the night. You rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart reassuring you that this is real, that he is real. You allow yourself to fully embrace the reality of the moment, embracing the hope and love that Elijah’s return has rekindled within you.

Taglist: @catmikaelson20 @jennyamanda8 @tsukilover11 @gamarancianne @hazgold @devotedlycrookeddonut

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[yappacadaver]

He’s so fucking insane like. 54 years old. Mommy issues. Has been married but has never lived. Serial killer by circumstance. Kidnaps ppl. Keeps diaries. Has massive tits.

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways. 

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it. 

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him. 

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige. 

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter. 

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds. 

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—” 

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.” 

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year. 

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen. 

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia. 

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt. 

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds. 

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds. 

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds. 

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through? 

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.” 

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[100hearteyes]

I can't get this canon divergent headcanon off my mind: Nicky isn't marked for death at birth.

Instead, when he's born, Rio is right next to Agatha. Not because she has to take him away, but because she wants to be there.

Hours later, Agatha and Rio sit together under a tree, shoulders pressing and foreheads almost touching. They are mostly silent. When they speak, it's all hushed tones and lazy smiles.

Nicky is on Agatha's lap. The exhaustion of pregnancy and labour sits deep in her bones, elated and heavy and hungry, and she knows she will need to feed later. For now, though, she just wants to watch Rio play with their baby's tiny fingers and tickle his tiny feet, Death and new life so entranced with each other.

Agatha is at her most vulnerable, at her most open, her most comfortable and carefree and free. Her voice doesn't even carry that edge, the lilt and inflection that carries so many lies and masks so many truths. Here, with her two loves, Agatha Harkness is all awed whispers and tender smiles.

"We made this," Agatha breathes out, still in wondrous disbelief. She catches Rio's eyes, brimming with tears just like her own, and smiles, before planting a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead. "You and I, my love. We made him from scratch."

And Rio, gentle and loving like she only ever is with Agatha, can't hold in a soft smile as she takes in the flower of their love, so much like the ones she gives Agatha every time they meet — but this one has little toes and chubby fists and big brown eyes just like her own and he lives and he breathes and he smiles.

She wonders how she can be a mother to this creature, this miracle boy, when her job, who she is, already keeps her away from Agatha too much. How will this child grow up healthy and kind when one of her mothers kills witches to live and the other lives to collect their souls? It clutches her black heart, claws digging into it and squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

Until she looks up and finds Agatha already staring at her, and the claws loosen their grip with a sigh and a smile. Today, she can stop thinking. She can just feel the joy of her miracle.

Rio kisses one of baby Nicky's cheeks twice, "One for me and one for your mama."

Tomorrow, when Agatha has sated her hunger and Rio needs to leave, she will kiss her son's rosy cheek twice more.

Today, however, Rio looks at this boy and she can't even make sense of the immensity of the love she feels for him. And she thought that her black heart would not have space for more, what will how full it already was with her love for Agatha — but maybe it has doubled in size, because what she feels for Nicky is just as big and it somehow still fits.

Even as the terror of absence threatens to crawl its way back into her heart, Rio takes comfort in knowing that many days after tomorrow, she will return to her family and she will twice kiss her son's cheek again, "One for hello and one for the next goodbye."

The weight of Agatha's head on her shoulder pulls her back to the present. Rio takes the baby from her love's arms and holds him close to her heart.

Mother and son sleep peacefully, now. Rio presses her lips to Agatha's head, remembering all the hello's and goodbye's they have collected over the decades, and it makes her feel a little more sure that they can do right by Nicky even through the death and the hunger and the absence. Love perseveres.

[elenthyaolyenths]

"Wake up, I'm back...!"

Started this one on April 7th, it's finally achieved and in full-colour, no less!!!

These three last months have been amazing, I learnt so much! Today I was finally feeling like I was able to finish this tender kiss.

I hope you'll like this one too, my dear Good Omens fam.

Got some news about my health and an upcoming semi-hiatus under the cut, thank you for everything!

All my Good Omens art

Ko-Fi - Prints - LinkTree

Hi, my dear Good Omens family. Little Frenchie artist here😊

I already explained my situation on Reddit - and thank you all for your amazing support there my dear goblins - but I thought it was important to give some explainations here too.

First, I want to thank you, all of you. I joined this fandom less than a year ago, and coming back on Tumblr then starting to publish may have been the best thing that happened to me in 2023.

I met wonderful people, I learnt so much about my art, and I'm still learning, each day, every day.

Last year same day, i haven't hold a pencil since almost 10 years - Today, I'm living the miracle of my life and a true childhood dream: drawing again and again - and most of it, drawing about Good Omens - and it became a important part of my existence, helping me to fight depression and burn-out syndrom.

I'm right-handed, and my job irl has almost destroyed my right wrist during the last ten years. The pain became unbearable lately, and even if drawing was soothing me as a true part of my physiotherapy, it's not enough anymore.

Tomorrow - July 15th - I'll finally have a wrist surgery. And I'm really, really scared. Because we don't know if it will work, but my hand will have to stay immobilized for 6-8 weeks before a new round of physiotherapy. Because I have other health problems and another chronic pain disease, so I can't stop to think about if it doesn't go well and/or if it doesn't work at all.

That is why I'm writing tonight. This fandom helped me to heal during this wonderful year, and I wanted to say it here, loud and clear.

Thank you. For everything. For every note, for every comment, for every kind word you may have adressed to me. You don't know how much it's important to me.

I'll continue to publish here and there for a while, because I still have a few surprises and collabs gifts in store. Stay tuned!!!

Thank you for reading.

Love you all!🥰🤩❤️‍🔥

@goodomensafterdark

@floscrap-blog @demonsandpieohmy @amagnificentobsession @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation @quoththemaiden @paperclipninja @silverdphantom @neverlet

@fearandhatred @eybefioro @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @ashfae @malohkeh-main

@mad-aims @daisydimple20092 @seraphhiim

[passivenovember]

Being a dad is something he's always wanted. Call it a cliche, right, the all-American, golden boy who's caught up in the idea of four to six snot-nosed brats looking up to him as they try to make sense of all the big and small things because they have no other choice. You only get one dad, right?

He images them, crawling and then walking and then sprinting through the same ancient, brand-new stages of life. Six months, learning the kitchen-magic of how their fingers and toes bend on command. A year, stumbling Jello-legged down a hallway. Fifteen, slamming their bedroom door only to rush, crying, into Steve's arms when he works up the courage to rap his knuckles on the wood like the dad from Full House.

Maybe. It's all Steve's ever wanted. More than that signed Nicks basketball his own dad sent for him when he was twelve. More than Nancy Wheeler. More than his need for mountains, and oceans, and something else.

But then he meets Billy, and it's like all that other shit goes away for a while. None of it disappears, really, but he's got something to focus on, now. Something to work toward, with someone, and that makes it worse, in a way.

Billy finally lets him fuck, and Steve lays in bed that night with an irritatingly awful douchebag drooling a spot onto his chest, and Steve thinks. Knows--

Look, he won't admit it on the first fuck, but this is it for him. He wants to buy this dude house, and he wants wedding rings around the fat and bone of both their fingers, and. He wants babies, with Billy.

Aches Billy to love him.

He wants a life with this asshole. The whole nine. Steve runs his hand through Billy's hair and falls asleep imagining family Christmases, and vacations, and the fragile, shining hope that Billy will wake up tomorrow and swear that he's in love. That Steve is who he's waited 19 years for. That to each other, they'll always belong.

Obviously, that doesn't happen. Maybe.

If it does Steve wouldn't know, because Billy's not a lunatic. He's gone before the sky's fully blue. Leaves his phone number scrawled on the corner of Steve's mirror in Sharpie.

Steve's in love.

So. Immediately, he wants the impossible, but mostly, he just wants Billy. And by some giant, invisible, choking miracle he gets Billy. His body first, and then his thoughts. His laugh, genuine and biting and whole. Billy shares his memories, like pieces of bread dropped in water for hungry birds, for Steve. Achingly slow, he tells his hopes, his dreams, and.

Eventually, one night with his head on Steve's chest he says, "You terrify me. I never want it to end."

So. It's basically love.

Steve's a loose canon when it comes to this feeling. Pedal to the medal, he shoots through walls with bright red booming firepower until everything is cracked and bleeding and open around them. Until there's room enough to say, "I love you, move in with me."

So, Billy does. Impossible.

Wonderful and joking, even though it's not a joke when Steve's parents meet him on move in day and Steve's dad is thrilled that Billy knows shit about cars, and Steve's mom likes that Billy has a weathered recipe book that was, "passed down from my grandma, back in California," for her to find a place for in their tiny, warm kitchen while she unpacks.

"He's very nice," Steve's mother says, "Respectful. Handsome." In that same wistful, sleepy tone that she used when she first called Nancy wheeler sweet. Beautiful.

"He's a fine young man, son," Steve's dad tells him. "Try not to run him off."

Steve watches them reverse from the ratty, rocky, untamed driveway, with his heart in his throat. Imagines the day he and Billy will leave their kids, supported and loved fiercely, to make that wobbly step toward the brush-fire shore of their lives.

--

Steve's plan for the future lives and breathes in a small, tucked-away corner in his mind for months. He nearly chokes to death on it, several times a day, watching Billy relax into his routine.

Billy cooks dinner every night. They eat on the couch in their boxers, dishes left on the coffee table until Billy kisses him awake in the blue light of the television, "Let's go to bed, baby," he says. Steve always notices that the plates and cups are cleared away, the living room tidy for the dawn.

Billy buys a shovel and digs two holes in their patchy backyard. Steve watches him from the kitchen window, wondering what the cavities will grow with the start of spring.

Billy plants a clothesline. "My mom used to dry our clothes this way," He says, when Steve raises an eyebrow. He tacks sheets and sweaters to sway in the sunlight. Talks about laying a patio out there, so they can grill for people when it's warm.

Steve gets hard from the image of himself, in an apron, grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for their friends, first, and kids. Someday. A total dad.

--

Billy makes use of his library card and checks out every book about homesteading he can find. He learns about gardening, and bricklaying, and how to buff gashes out of hardwood floors. For his birthday, Billy hints at a Better Homes and Gardens subscription.

When Steve forks out the cash and the May issue arrives in the mail two months later, Billy presses a hasty kiss to his forehead and disappears onto the porch. He spends his Sunday afternoons with sticky notes and an overused ballpoint pen from that moment on, circling things that have no rhyme or reason, to Steve.

--

They've been living in their house for six months when Billy says, suddenly, "We should see if we can buy it." Like he's been planning his own version of their future.

It's Sunday, and he's just come up for air from Better Homes and Gardens. There's a cheese plate in his hands. He's parked by the front door, on his way out, looking startled as if the words escaped from a caged area buried deep inside of him.

"Huh?" Steve's more of the lay-around-and-rot-in-his-underwear-on-Sunday's type. He's eating ice cream out of the container, distracted by something Barney Fife says. He laughs.

"We should buy the place," Billy tells him.

Steve blinks, "The house?"

"It's our house," Billy says delicately, with all the weight of the world resting on him.

Steve looks up from the television set, shocked that Billy's hair is wet in some places and drying in others. As if he was being groomed by some large, impatient cat. He peers around Billy, out the screen door. "Is it raining?"

"Sprinkling," Billy says, "I have an umbrella."

"Your magazine's gonna get wet."

"I'm reading The Grapes of Wrath," Billy tells him, pulling a weathered copy out from under his cheese plate.

"Sure, but if the rain picks up, your book--"

"--The characters could use a little water," Billy says, "They're trapped in the dust bowl."

"I'm in love with you," Steve says. Like it's the first time he's ever admitted something like this out loud. So it's a surprise. "I like that you read. I like that you talk about everything like it's real."

Billy pads over to the couch and knocks Steve's legs apart. He settles on the arm of the thing, cold, wet toes pressing into Steve's thigh. Steve winces, sputtering when Billy feeds him a slice of American cheese wrapped in bologna.

He chews. Swallows. "I need to make more money, baby."

"Why," Billy asks, feeding himself.

"Because," Steve chokes on the next round Billy feeds him, heart soaring when Billy smiles, "Because if we're gonna lay a patio and grill for our friends I want to make sure you have decent ingredients."

"I don't mind the cheap stuff."

"You deserve better," Than what I can provide, Steve doesn't say.

Billy shrugs, feeding him another round of cheese and meat. "Well, if we're following through with the patio and the grill--"

"--And a porch awning," Steve says, feeding Billy a slice of cheese, "I'm adding that to the list. You can’t read your book and eat snacks while holding a fucking umbrella over your head."

Billy stares at him, swallowing and red cheeked. "I think any sort of permanent installment has to be cleared through the landlord."

Steve thinks about it, humming low when Billy slips off the armrest and settles, heavily, into his lap. "So, we buy the place."

"I need a better job, too."

"We'll look when the paper comes tomorrow."

They lapse into silence, eating cheese and bologna until it's gone, then they move to the ice cream Steve was working his way through, chuckling at The Andy Grifith Show.

It starts pouring rain, little hammers falling on the roof until the power flickers. "I want to make this house nice for you," Billy says.

Steve looks at him. "It's already nice."

"It could be better," Billy says, fiddling with the hair on Steve's chest. "We could have a garden. And I think the beige walls are boring as shit, we need to get some wallpaper. Or paint, or something."

"What else should we do?"

Billy shrugs, "The kitchen needs a rug. I saw this book at the library about how old men in Russia and China and shit learn to weave rugs on giant wooden looms. Some of them have seaters, and others hang them from the ceiling. Your car needs a new power steering pump--"

"--Sounds like you need a shed."

"Yeah, I guess so," Billy says. He grins, and then his brows furrow. "But. Steve, I want to build us a life, here. I want to start my life with you, I don't want to wait until we move to something we own, because I like this house, and I feel like when we start to grow our family, we can--"

Steve's heart stops beating.

His vision tunnels, all his focus collapsing on the words Billy says. Phrases that sound wonderful and impossible, all knitting together to equal nurseries built from two-by-four.

Billy stares at him cheeks red. "Sorry, I know we haven't talked about any of this. I get excited."

"I'm in love with you," Steve tells him, breathless.

"I know, dumbass, I'm in love with you."

Steve kisses him. Pulls away. "You really wanna buy a house?"

"Yeah. Not a house, this house."

"You wanna have my babies?"

Billy tugs on his chest hair, grinning when Steve yelps. "Maybe you wanna have my babies, instead."

"Sure," Steve tells him immediately, "Yeah, anything you want."

"I'm going back onto the porch," Billy says, "We'll start with the job listings in the paper."

Steve watches him go. Thinks he could be alright at this, being a husband and a father. Someday.

Right now, he's alright at being Billy's.

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY ☕ Coffee Shop Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

☕ I’d Still Dance With You by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo {M, 57k}

“Liam, if you met someone that you really liked, would age matter?” Louis asked. “I suppose so; to a point, anyway.” “Like, how young would you go?” Liam thought it over. “Uh… I don’t know. Like, 24?” Louis groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “Why? How old is this guy you like?” “Twenty-one,” Louis muttered. “Hang on. He’s 21, and you’re… what? Twenty-eight?” “Yeah.” “Wow. Um… well, OK. That’s a, uh, that’s a gap.”

Or, the 21/28 age difference fic where Harry is younger than Louis thought he was, and even though Louis’ head is telling him not to pursue anything, his heart doesn’t seem to agree.

☕ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours {T, 34k}

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

☕ love drunk, waiting on a miracle by @hellolovers13 {E, 30k}

Christmas inspired Coffeshop AU

Harry has a bit of a crush on a customer. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual.

These are their first 24 days together.

☕ And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2​ {M, 27k}

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

☕ Friday I'm in Love by @perfectdagger {M, 25k}

It has a pattern, Harry has noticed.It’s not that he has been observing the guy who regularly comes to the coffee shop for the past few weeks; but he totally has.It’s also not Harry’s fault that he’s infatuated with the guy who apparently follows a very repetitive schedule.

Or the one where Harry works at the coffee shop and Louis goes there almost every day and Harry is head over heels for him, making his love life look like a The Cure song.

Inspired by Friday I’m in Love by The Cure (obviously).

☕ From The Heart (series) by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 24k}

Every Tuesday, Louis spends his day off holed up in his favorite coffee-come-bookshop, writing his little stories as part of the WordPlay challenge while daydreaming about the resident barista, Harry. Each week a new word prompt is revealed and Louis adds to his series of short stories about Henry, the owner of a B&B in the Cotswolds who has curly hair and dimples, Lewis, his long term guest who just happens to be a writer, and Tigger, Henry’s cat.

As Louis and Harry’s friendship develops, could his fantasy world spill out into real life? And how does that reader who leaves the lovely comments with the teacup emoji seem to be able to read Louis’ mind?

☕ ever since new york by @sunflower-live​ / sunflower_live {NR, 22k}

Louis works at a coffee shop in NYC and he pines endlessly after the boy who lives above it.

☕ blend into my favourite colour by rainbowninja167 / @rainbowtitania {T, 19k}

Harry often wonders if they’ll ever meet in real life. And if Harry will recognize Tommo the instant they see each other, like somehow their souls will just know. Or maybe Harry’s soul is shouting “Louis!” too loudly for any other signals to go through.

Harry is a barista with a secret Werewolf High fan blog, a desperate crush on a customer named Louis, and a best friend on Tumblr who always makes him laugh. Louis can't figure out why the barista at his favorite coffee shop keeps creepily staring at him, and to make matters worse, he may be slightly in love with a friend he met online.

A love square involving two boys, one TV fandom, and one food fight.

☕ The Importance of being Earnest by @louloubabys1992​ / louloubaby92 {NR, 16k}

Harry cannot help but pay extra attention to Louis' order, even if it is just a warm cup of tea with a dash of milk and no sugar. He also makes sure that the Danish Louis asks for is warm and fresh from the oven and not the one in the display, even if it means delaying Louis a bit when he fetches said Danish from the kitchen. It's all worth it when Louis smiles his crinkly smile at him before he rushes off to work.

Man, he's hot, he cannot help but think.

Or Harry is a barista who's been harboring a crush on Louis for months. Little does he know that Louis actually likes him back.

☕ Before We Ever Wrote a Song by @casuallyhl​ {E, 13k}

Harry just can't be around Louis when he's flirting outrageously with Chad Michael Murray. So what if he's the star of one of the country's most popular shows? Harry's seen an episode or two and it's not that great. Sure, the drama is exciting and all the actors are attractive and it’s shot in his hometown, but still. Not that great. Certainly not great enough for Louis to fall over himself every time Chad enters the coffee shop.

Harry doesn’t want to watch the over-the-top spectacle, which is why he usually retreats.

And besides, it hurts to see the boy he’s in love with flirting with someone else.

Or, Harry and Louis work in a coffeehouse on a film studios lot, and Harry wishes Louis would pay half as much attention to him as he does the famous actors.

☕ A Love Stronger Than Espresso by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix {G, 12k}

Louis is entirely dependent on caramel mocha in the mornings, but soon he finds that there's one thing at the coffee shop he needs more than coffee - a cute barista named Harry.

aka: The one where Harry is a cute barista guy and Louis plays hard to get by using a different name to order coffee each day

☕ John Doe by FitzAndLarry {G, 12k}

John Doe I don't even know you, but I know fo' sho' That you are beautiful, so baby let me know Your name Damn what's his name?

xxx

There's a boy taking the stand at the open mic night where Harry works as a barista, and he's going to find out the boy's name if it's the last thing he does.

An ode to Never Shout Never, and a story about finding a new home.

☕ Coming Home Through the Dark to You by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {G, 6k}

Harry Styles works at the Fox in the Snow, the most hipster coffee joint around. He's got too many roommates and a best friend he met his first day of university who he might very well be head-over-heels for.

☕ ‘Sup by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics​ {G, 6k}

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

☕ Time Of The Season by alienharry {NR, 6k}

When writer's block stands in the way of Harry completing his second novel, he turns to the sweet-smelling omega behind the counter of his new favorite coffee shop for inspiration.

☕ I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by @fallinglikethis {NR, 5k}

Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.

☕ That's Not My Name by @lululawrence {NR, 3k}

He froze for a second, because he hadn’t expected to be hit with such an intense gaze. Green eyes beneath a beanie and loads of curly hair made Louis miss a beat before coming back to himself.

“Uh, hi. Sorry. Can I take your order?”

The boy (man?) gave a shy smile and said, “Just a caramel macchiato, please. Grande.” Louis nodded as he scribbled onto the cup and punched it into the register.

As the boy held his phone to the machine to pay, Louis asked, “Name please?”

“Oh, uh, Marcus.”

Louis scribbled Marcus on the cup and handed it off, but not before giving the boy a smile and nodding over to where he’d be able to pick up his drink. Louis watched him a bit longer than he probably should have, then forced himself to move on.

Or the one where the cute boy coming into the coffee shop gives Louis a different name every time...for over a month.

☕ A Cuppa Courage by @juliusschmidt {G, 3k}

Liam kicks Harry's shin, picking up another cup to fill. “He seems like he’d be a good catch, if you liked guys, I mean.”

I do like guys, Harry does not say, even though he’d like to shout it at the top of his lungs. I DO LIKE GUYS.

[a fluffy lil' fall coffee shop coming out au.]

☕ cursing the cosmos by 5sexualhomos / @hogwartzlou {NR, 3k}

In a world where people have timers counting down to when they meet their soulmate, finding love is easy. Harry meets Louis in a coffee shop one day. They slowly fall in love, the only thing holding them back is that they aren't soulmates.

☕ baby baby, you're a caramel macchiato by @missandrogyny {T, 3k}

So, yeah, Harry doesn't think it's that far of a stretch to call himself a good barista. There are some particularly bad ones, and some particularly good ones, and, with his work ethic, his skill, and his charm, he'd probably be lumped in with the latter group.

☕  tell me what you need by @disgruntledkittenface​ {G, 2k}

“And a fresh cherry?” he asks, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. He waits as Louis stares him down, his brow furrowing.“No? What the fuck,” Louis rasps, looking bewildered.

coffeeshop AU based on this iconic prompt:

harry: can i please get a semi-iced half caramel half vanilla decaf latte with no foam using fresh almond milk with a small swirl of whipped cream covered in a pinch of cinnamon and a fresh cherry? louis: ...no? what the fuck

[namfinessed]

in you, i lay - k.sj.

summary: one night was all you needed to come back to him or a story in which love grows where seokjin goes, and you can’t help but follow.

genre: fluff (7.8k)

note: i have my exams soon, so i’ll get back to writing as soon as they are over, i wanted to give you all a little something before that so, i hope, with all my heart, that you guys enjoy this <3

masterlist

three years ago, your trip to berlin changed the entire trajectory of your life.

one day, your life was all black and white and then it burst into so many colors that you couldn’t quite grasp how quickly it changed to look so beautiful.

which is why you decided to come back to berlin. more successful, happy, and filled with life than you have ever been, you came back to live your bright past for one last time and move on to bigger things.

you look out the window as the cab breezes past the beach that held more memories than 23 years of your life, a smile unconsciously grows on your face as you think back on how different just 3 years of your life were.

you wonder how he is.

you never stopped wondering how he is.

the envelope holding your promotion was sat tightly in your hands, you knew he would be happy, ecstatic even, you just knew he would pick you up and spin you around. out of everyone in your life, you felt like he, of all people, would understand just how much this promotion meant to you.

“take a right or left from here, ma’am?” the cab driver’s voice breaks your train of thoughts. “right, you know this applefarm café which is around here? drop me off there.” you sit back and a giddy smile dances on your face, you wonder if you will run into him just like you did all those years ago or if you will have to call and find out.

you did worry at the beginning that maybe he would forget you, but every nerve in your body forced itself to implant him in your memory forever and you knew that he would do the same.

at applefarm café, you took a seat right near the entrance, it was exactly the spot where you had brunch with him after a night full of conversations that were embedded in you and your heart swelled when you saw the same elderly waitress, who served you all those years ago, heading towards you.

“what can i get for you today, ma’am?” she obviously didn’t remember you, but you couldn’t help but let a large grin split at her sight.

“a peach milkshake and chocolate tart please” it’s a miracle that you’ve managed to remember his order after all these years but every single second you spent with him is all your mind revolves around anymore, especially when you’re so close yet still far from him.

-

~2019~

you don’t know how your friends convinced you to come on this last-minute trip to berlin but here you were, not hating every second but still totally uncomfortable with how unprepared you were for this trip.

you were, to put it in a nice way, a total control freak.

you didn’t like going anywhere that wasn’t already dated in your planner, last-minute plans made you sweat like a wolf in heat, and it annoyed you to your very core when someone canceled plans that you had already made a schedule around.

even right now, as your friends happily pre-gamed before crashing a party, you were anxiously jotting down things you can do in berlin for the rest of your time there. your closest friend, jennie looks over and groans when she catches sight of the planner in your hands and immediately walks over to snatch it from you.

“seriously, what the fuck?” you yell after her as she locks the planner in the hotel room-provided vault. “i thought we all agreed on going spontaneous for this trip” she crosses her arms across her chest as she stares at you accusingly. “yes, all of you agreed but not me, we still haven’t done any tourist stuff and we leave tomorrow.” you desperately try to explain your friends, who through their fondness for your love for organizing, are shaking their heads at you.

“i have reached my limit of spontaneity, give me a break” you groan as you fall back on the bed, you don’t understand why you just can’t relax and let things be, you have always had a hard time with letting go or having fun, always too cautious and way too strung up to even think of doing something rebellious.

“listen, i know this is hard for you but for this one last night, just trust us.” lisa pats your thigh as she sits down beside you, trying not to grin at your obvious misery. “do i have a choice to do anything but that?” you can’t help but ask even if you know the answer and they all collectively smirk at you because they know that you know it too.

so, five hours later, when you’re sitting at your table in a club that you’re sure is way too small to fit the number of people in it, you are not the least bit surprised. your friends are swaying next to you, to the music and you’re all cheering before shots but you don’t feel all excited.

sure, you are happy, you love your friends but there is something missing in the air of the night.

maybe your drinks aren’t strong enough, maybe you are too in your head (yet again) to fully come out of your shell, maybe these lights are starting to make you feel dizzy, you don’t know.

but your attention is quickly taken away by the faint sound of a guitar strumming, and as you start to register the sound, you see everyone hurriedly walking over to the beach at the back of the place, all of them bubbling with excitement.

you watch as people keep shuffling towards the beach with loud chatter and you tilt your head at the commotion, wondering what could possibly have these people so flushed with anticipation.

and you don’t know why but your gut pulls you towards the back as well.

you have always been curious, about everything you come across, you need to everything that’s going on around you, and a large group of people migrating so suddenly, had your feet moving as quickly as they could towards them.

you look around confusedly at everyone gathered around a stage, quickly learning that a performance was set to take place, and also that there were no places left to sit so you dumbly hover by the door leading to the back, concluding that some hinge support was better than standing around in the loose sand for however long the performance was supposed to last.

then, over the gentle crashing of the waves to the shore, you hear it again, the faint guitar strumming but it’s not as faint anymore.

and it was coming from the right of you.

your head snaps to see the silhouette of a man tuning his guitar, and you automatically hold your breath as your eyes involuntarily lock on his figure.

you watched in wonder as the moon seemed to engulf him in cosmic light, you could see his high nose from where you were standing, you could see his hair with a few strands out of place, and you could see the loose shape of a t-shirt hanging off his tall and lean body, but you don’t know what exactly about him made every action in your body pause.

your eyes involuntarily follow him as he is joined by a few more people and all of them head onto the make-shift stage. loud cheers fill the previous silence but you don’t hear any of it, you don’t even hear your own heart beating out of your chest, you don’t see the hoards of people around you because your eyes still refuse to look away from him.

and when the honey-shaded light falls on him, you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as your body shivers both in dread and delight, which you would later blame the cold weather for.

because nothing in the world could’ve prepared you for the sight that was that man.

you have seen good-looking people in your life, for heavens’ sake, you have some of the most attractive people you know as your friends but no one has quite invaded every one of your senses so quickly, as this man did.

and you are not sure how exactly you are supposed to feel about that.

from the cloud in your mind, you make out that they were introducing themselves but you don’t really understand what they’re saying. they start a song, you can see him singing, you can see his charming eyes hyping up the crowd from where you stood, you can see how the crowd is totally captivated by the dude with the guitar but you don’t know what they’re singing, you are not listening to a word they are pouring their heart into.

and you feel dirty, that you can’t take your eyes off him, you try to think of how if you were in his place, you wouldn’t want someone to stare at you like they haven’t seen another being in their life.

but then again, he wasn’t just any other being, he was literally the most beautiful being you have laid eyes on.

after forcing yourself to snap out of whatever mild haze that trapped your senses, you look around once again to see everyone enveloping the person next to them as they sway to the voice of the guy and the waves moved more soundly as if to accommodate the delicate ambiance that evening.

“maybe i’ll just never know, maybe i’ll just never hold you anymore but i can say i tried, i can say i fought for you, over the tallest hill in the world, i can yell that i loved you as much as i could, can you say the same?”

his angelic voice rings through the crowd, the lights falling even more delicately on him as he raises his gaze to meet the loved-up couples, and instead ends up meeting your eyes which haven’t been able to look away from him.

you turn your head with cheeks feeling hot as lava as you internally cringe at yourself.

what the fuck are you doing?

what has come over you?

sure, he is attractive but why are you acting as if you have never seen another man?

you sheepishly pat your cheeks before making a quick decision to leave as soon as you can, you can’t afford to make yourself look like even more of a fool than you already have.

but you risk it anyway, you tilt your head slightly to see if he’s gone back to what he was doing, you just wanted one last look at him before you left for good, you needed something to burn this into your memory.

so, imagine what happens when he gives you just what you need to never forget him again.

he was looking right at you, refusing to turn away even after you’ve clearly caught him and he continues singing while keeping his eyes on your every movement.

“but i can say i tried, i can say i gave it my all, i can say i used the last breath in me to breath life into you, can you?”

his lovely voice overshadows the bleak lyrics and you can feel your heartbeat all the way down to your toes.

and that’s when you leave.

you don’t notice the way his hands tighten around his guitar as you turn away.

when you go back in, you immediately collapse near the bar and your dress rides up your thighs as you slump forward on the counter and breathe out a long sigh. you can’t believe your body really gave up on you because one guy looked at you, and frankly, you are very much disappointed in your lack of self-control.

but he was looking at you too.

he refused to stop looking at you, even after you obviously caught him.

and that brought back the heat in your cheeks.

you feel ridiculous and embarrassed at your lack of composure, you don’t even think you have looked at any of the romantic partners in your life that way.

you shake your head at yourself, it was one thing to embarrass yourself, it was another thing to embarrass yourself in a foreign country, and you are so busy beating yourself up, you don’t see the person taking a seat next to you.

“whenever you are done talking to yourself, can i have a turn?” you hear the smoothest voice from beside you and you jump in surprise, not expecting another person to have joined you. in a panic, your eyes hurriedly meet theirs, and your breath is taken away all the same when you see who it is.

he’s still got his guitar resting on his shoulder, his hair is still fashionably out of place, his nose is still high from up close, his shirt hangs off his frame just the same but his face, his face was otherworldly this close.

and you have been talking to yourself like a mad person when he was right next to you.

how charming.

“what are you doing here?” the question tumbles out of your mouth before you can catch it and he quirks an eyebrow at you, an amused smile now gracing his features, you are sure he is smiling because of how wide your eyes have gotten. “if you are interested, i am here for you and if you are not, well, i’m here for this.” he picks up the glass collecting condensation on the counter and picks it up.

of course, with a gorgeous face like his, he is also a smooth talker.

“weren’t you just performing up there?” you try to ask with a clear voice but an audible gulp in the middle of the sentence gives away your nervousness. “i’m done, for today at least” he shrugs and you ignore the fact that his eyes never leave your face as he waits for you to speak.

if he noticed how nervous you are (which you frankly doubt he didn’t, cause you were being obvious with your fidgeting), he didn’t point it out which you felt grateful for.

“you’ve got a lovely voice” you tell him honestly, shifting in your seat to face him better, you did find his voice to be one of the sweetest you have ever heard. his voice held a different depth, now when he was speaking, that you are not sure you comprehend yet. “not lovely enough to make you stay till the end?” you want to run away again as he casually brings up how you ran away in embarrassment when your eyes met his.

“that was not the reason i left” you mumble as you lift your glass to take a large gulp and when you look back at him, he is smiling. he feels good, he feels damn good that someone as pretty as you, are losing your words over him. but he wasn’t doing any better, his heart was pounding in his ears with every word he spoke, and he still can’t believe he mustered up the courage to follow you in.

he hasn’t felt his heart leap so simply and so boundlessly, in a long time. he’s not even sure he’s ever felt this way before.

his pull to you felt magnetic, he didn’t understand why he felt the need to talk to you but he did, and he couldn’t ignore his feelings or understand them if he was being honest, so he was going to do everything he can to understand why you stood out to him in a room with 50 other people.

so he found himself, hurriedly running off the stage after his performance to find you again.

and now that he was this close to you, he understood his racing heart a little but that just left him wanting to know everything about you.

“my name is seokjin, and if you allow me, i would like to take you back there” he stands up, putting his hand out for you to take and your stomach tightens in the pure rush that simple line made you feel. seokjin’s hand trembled in the air, out of sheer nervousness that you were going to say no and turn away, he wished you didn’t notice.

“seokjin” you repeat in a quiet tone, you loved his name already, something about his name fit his face perfectly and you realize that while you were thinking of his name, your hand already reached to place it in his.

and his heart leaps again, he lets out a breath of relief as an easy smile takes over his face.

he gleefully tightens his hand around yours and pulls you to stand with him, that’s when you realize you didn’t even ask him why you were going back. and you can’t bring yourself to care, your entire body is flushed from his hand, you are sure your cheeks are as red as they come and your gaze decides to admire his broad back as he guides the both of you through the crowd.

this isn’t like you, this isn’t like you at all.

you never just talk to strangers, you don’t hold their hands, you don’t get this nervous around a person even if you are a shy person but your mind seemed to tumble on itself since you’ve seen him.

once you are out in the open air, your hot skin raises in goosebumps from how cold the weather had gotten and a slow, sweet song was playing. you could see that people were swaying their bodies with each other and it looked like the setting couldn’t have been more intimate, even with the full room.

you suck in a breath when seokjin turns around to look at you, your hand fell limply to your side as he left, and now, you could truly feel how bone-chilling it was.

“only if you want to, can i have this dance with you?” the way he asks in reassuring, laced with choice for you, it mattered to him more than anything, that you are okay with this and when you smile at him shyly, he swears his heart bursts into a million colors. “let’s go” this time, you envelop your hand around his and drag him with you where you can both dance without bumping into people.

you are still confused; you are still so new to all of this but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be around him.

in a partly secluded corner, you remove your hand from his and wait for him to make the move which he doesn’t take too long to do.

within seconds, he hesitantly places an arm on the side of your waist and you step closer, feeling your breath waver already. he lets his eyes stay on your face as his other hand starts tracing where your arm begins to end by lacing your fingers with his and the entire time, he kept looking for any signs of discomfort in your face and lets out a breath of relief when he doesn’t see any.

“is this, okay?” he mutters, his voice lowering several more octaves and the room felt tight around you, like there was no space to move if it wasn’t in his arms and you found yourself wanting to erase any distance between you two. “more than okay” you mumble back and he bites his lip to hold back his huge smile at your response.

then, he took the confidence he got from the small smile on your face and tightened his hold on you as he started swaying the both of you to the music. and frankly, you didn’t care a bit about the song being played, maybe it was because of the way the same honey-light fell on him as he moved you two, maybe it was because you have never felt so breathless yet so full of life at once but you felt comfortable, comfortable enough to not question how you felt right in that moment.

he made small talk as he twirled you around, seokjin kept leaning in to make sure you knew that you had every bit of his attention and with every question you asked him, he answered with enthusiasm and humor which had your cheeks hurting from smiling so big.

for the first time in a very long time, you weren’t fidgeting to run around to get to the next thing you were supposed to do, you weren’t mentally counting down the minutes you needed to move on, because, somewhere in the middle of him dipping you dramatically to make you laugh to the way his touch left your skin burning; for those few moments, no other place in the world seemed more important.

seokjin’s very presence made you feel calmer than any years of therapy did and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with that information.

“aren’t you going to ask me for my name?” you remind him halfway through the third song and he laughs breathily, sucking in a breath before offering the widest smile to you, which made you instantly smile back even more. “i can’t believe i forgot to ask you that, please excuse my lack of manners. so, what is your name?” he asks, polite as ever, and you immediately tell him.

and just like you, seokjin finds your name to be perfect for your face.

“so, tell me y/n, what brings you here to this place?” his curiosity about you was eating him alive but thankfully, you were more than to humor him. “they have the cheapest vodka around here, at least that’s what it said on yelp” you answer honestly and jin lets out a snort at that. “alcohol shouldn’t be as expensive as it is” he shakes his head in a sort of agreement with you. “exactly like it’s my senses that are being deprived, why am i paying with half my kidney for that?” you complain with furrowed eyebrows and jin coos at the sight, he loves to hear you whine, he loves it way too much.

he keeps asking you questions, about what brought you to berlin, what you liked so far, and who you came here with and you felt yourself melting even more into him as you answer him.

“why did you start performing here?” you ask this time and giggle when he spins you around suddenly to place your back against his chest, both his arms still tightly wound around you as he looks down at you.

he barely knows you but seokjin is willing to bet that he’s going to remember this night forever because no one ever asked him about his purpose for performing.

"well, as you’ve said, i have a lovely voice, i thought why let it go to waste, you know?” you let out a small laugh at the confidence and silliness in his tone but quickly tilt your head as if it to ask him to answer seriously.

at the curious look in your eyes and the light hitting you just right, seokjin feels his senses drain from his body because suddenly, all his eyes can see, all his mind can register, is how close your lips are to his. and you notice his eyes fixating on your lips and your breath hitches. seokjin starts leaning in, his breath hitting your face in a warm wave and you stiffen in pure anticipation of what would come.

but then he shakes his head, leaning back with an uneasy chuckle.

“not now, not like this” you raise your eyebrows as you try to snap out of your own daze. “what do you mean?” you mumble, not doing a good job at hiding your disappointment and he panics, because the last thing he wants is for you to misunderstand him pulling back. “don’t get me wrong, trust me when i say i want to do nothing more than to kiss this night away with you but i want to do it right, i want to do it when both of us can’t think of anything else” as he utters those words, your heart pauses.

then beats.

then pauses again.

before beating louder than any rock music on the planet.

were you always capable of feeling this way?

“then, can i do something?” instead of answering you, he turns you back so you were chest to chest now. “you can do anything you want with me” he whispers back his answer with a dopey grin on his face and your chest tightens in the best way possible as you reach up to leave a light kiss on his cheek.

you are more than pleased to see his face turn red as he tries to hide his blushing face in your shoulders. “can we please get out of here? if you don’t have anything planned, i want to show you so much” he mumbles onto your shoulder and you don’t think twice before nodding.

it wasn’t your smartest moment, you were going to admit to that, jetting off with a stranger in a foreign country in the middle of the night, is never the smart choice but you also couldn’t let this night end here.

you wait at the entrance of the pub with flickering lights, pulling your shawl closer to your body after you waved your friends’ goodbye, needless to say, they were surprised by your impulsive decision but after making sure you had a way to reach them if things went south, they left with giggles about how berlin’s air changed you.

“why are you even going with him?” they had asked and were pleasantly surprised when you replied with “i don’t know” and a happy shrug, you were free of any riddling anxiety in your body at that moment. and your friends were glad to see it.

“should we?” seokjin walks out and your jaw drops because of how different he looked with just an outfit change. his loose, dark-colored t-shirt, torn jeans and chains replaced with a well-fitting cream-colored shirt tucked into beige pants and a blazer thrown over his arm. even his hair looked different, now neatly styled and tucked back.

“too much of a contrast, isn’t it? unfortunately, this is how i usually dress, pretty bland colors and all.” he laughs as he sees your face and you immediately shake your head, “it’s fine, it’s nice” it’s very nice and i might be drooling a little, might have been the more accurate response there. he stares at you for a few seconds, doing his best to hide the smirk growing on his face.

eventually, he shakes his head with a huge grin, reaching out to take your hand in his, he was no longer hesitant because if seokjin went by the way you looked at him, you wanted him just as much as he did.

-

your room wasn’t the best, it restricted your view of the prettiest city you’ve had the pleasure of knowing but you didn’t want to waste money on a room you were barely going to spend time in. falling on the bed, your mind goes back to seokjin, as if it ever stopped thinking of him. your smile grew and grew as you recounted everything that happened the night you met him, you can’t believe it was actually you who took off with a stranger.

but it was the best decision you made in your life.

not much has changed now though, you are still extremely strict with your plans and time but you allow yourself to let go when it feels right. you were grateful that you still had that strong work ethic in you because that rewarded itself in the form of a promotion you have waited forever for.

you get up to look out the window, your eyes set on the same pub that let you fall in love all those years and you immediately run to the bathroom to start getting ready.

you couldn’t wait any longer to see him and for someone who hated waiting the most, he truly put you up to the ultimate test.

your hand unconsciously reaches to the chain hanging off your neck, you just hoped he thought of you just as much.

-

~2019~

“so, why do you perform? you never ended up telling me” you pause from the breathless laughter you both have been tumbling in since you sat down near a stall owned by jin’s friend. ‘they have the best bingsu i’ve had in my life’ is what he said after learning that you enjoy sweet things.

“i told you, lovely voice and all” he quirked an eyebrow and you fight the grin on your face as you tried to glare at him. “okay okay, i’ll tell you” he gives in, moving closer to you on the long bench as the cold wind kept hitting both your faces.

you also moved closer, adjusting his jacket on your shoulder and seokjin fought the urge to hold you even closer, he didn’t like even the tiny bit of space left between you two.

“it’s not my actual job, performing at the pub. i am actually an accounting manager, but i was sent by the company to berlin, and they are based in seoul, which is also where i grew up.” he explains and it took you by surprise that this isn’t what he did for a living, he really looked like he was made to be on the stage. “i came here around 4 years ago, so not too long ago but long enough to know where the best food is, where the pretty places are, where the vodka is cheapest” he trails off with a teasing smile to you, and you giggle in response.

“i am holding onto you for the cheap vodka thing, you need to take me there” you say, tilting your head at him with a huge grin on your face and seokjin’s entire face softens at your smile. “consider it done.” and he doesn’t know what prompts him but he leans over to brush his nose with yours and you don’t back away, and instead nuzzle into his touch.

this was nice, this was way too nice.

then he continued, “when i came here, i didn’t know anyone, i was too shy to talk to people at work and i felt extremely homesick, the only thing that kept me sane then was cooking myself korean food from time to time. i was working like a machine, with no real motive or passion for anything, just a repeated cycle. but then, i met these guys, and somehow, ended up in a band with them. we perform only on some days, whenever all of us are free and i didn’t even know i would be happy singing in front of people, but i am, unbelievably so.” his voice was sad when he was talking about home but as soon as mentioned his friends, his voice became louder, more filled with pride and you didn’t need him to tell you that he thought the world of these friends.

he looked over at you and your eyes were slightly glazed over because you can’t imagine missing home, you can’t imagine not knowing anyone in a huge city like this, you would simply not be able to go through with something similar to what seokjin did, and your admiration grew with every word he spoke.

seokjin, on the other hand, can’t remember a time when he opened up so easily and deeply to someone.

“i am glad you performed today” you say, with warm cheeks and not really looking at him. one side of his mouth lifts up at your words, and he nods, “i am glad i did too.”

“so, what do you do? what unwillingly gets you out of bed every day?” he throws the question to you and you sit up straight, the thought of your work immediately alerting your senses.

“i am working at a start-up, we are trying to make a platform for people of color to express themselves on various attributes like their workplace and the micro-aggressions they face there, or their family’s immigration, how it feels to have to live in a place where the language and culture aren’t yours and how they deal with it. the idea is to express all this through different media outlets like videos, or a series of articles, or artwork.” you explain and seokjin sits in wonder at how smart you are, he expected you to be doing something like that, he didn’t know why but he just had a feeling that someone like you was just brimming with ideas.

but he does notice that your eyes don’t light up like his when he talks about performing.

“but you don’t like it?” you nod and then pause before shaking your head at this.

“the objective is great, the whole reason i joined was because i didn’t want people who looked like me, who sounded like me, to feel alone. i wanted to give them a safe place, a voice, something that was only theirs, something i wish i had when i started out.” you bite your lip because talking about your job makes you sad.

“i want to do so much but you know who’s the head managing all of these activities? a white person, a white person with privilege. he’s never had to fight for his voice. he’s straight, he’s white, he plays golf on the weekends, he has kids comfortably going to private schools and he has a trophy wife. he doesn’t understand these stories, he throws every single one that comes our way and refuses to hear out the already silenced people, always asking for something ‘spicy’ instead of the truth, he just wants a dramatic story to publicize. i just can’t stand working for someone like him, someone who refuses to see the entire reason for our establishment but i can’t give up now, not after i promised to myself that i will make it better for others.”

seokjin hears the determination in your voice, he understands the frustration more than anyone else which is he remains in thoughtful silence before he notices something else in your eyes.

a burning passion to destroy whomever this man was.

“you’re going to do something about him, aren’t you?” he smirks at you and your angry glare melts. “i am going to work till i’m seating in his chair and making decisions that he should be making right now, i’m going to make sure that whatever i do, it will be meaningful. i’m getting that promotion someday” seokjin feels his heart burst with pride, he might not know you all that well, but he knows how much this means to you and that you will do it.

“when you do it, you come and tell me all about it, yeah?” he bumps his shoulder with yours playfully.

it’s the way he says it, like he believes you will do it somehow and that fills you with renewed hope for your future.

“deal.” you whisper, bumping him back. you both sit like that, the night feeling longer than it was supposed to be, but you were all the more grateful for it. then, seokjin gets up, dusting his pants off before extending his hand towards you, and it’s instinct to put your hand in his now.

“come on, i want to show you so much more” and then you’re being dragged away to the next place jin wants to take you to.

that’s how you spend the night, hand in his, and exploring every small corner of berlin that they don’t mention in travel packages, you saw berlin through seokjin’s eyes, and those few hours of drifting away with the cold wind, filled your heart with a feather-like feeling, a feeling of being able to float into the sky if it weren’t for seokjin’s hand anchoring you to the ground.

there wasn’t anywhere or anyone else you wanted to spend that time with.

“you should go now” you whisper with your forehead against his, right outside your hotel, not really wanting to leave or him to leave. it was getting late or early to be more precise; the sun was threatening to peek through, the sky being filled with the faintest shades of orange and blue as you and seokjin stood under, hands refusing to leave the other.

“is that why you’re squeezing the life out of my hands right now?” your giggles escape into the space between you two, “but seriously, it’s too late already.” even as you say it, you don’t move an inch and he doesn’t either.

“i’m going to sound crazy” he starts and your ears perk up immediately, “come to my home, i promise i make a mean hot pot, we can do whatever you want to do.” it should scare you, a stranger inviting you to their home, should definitely trigger some fight or flight response in you, but you don’t feel any of your usual anxiousness, you just feel him and the strong urge to follow wherever he goes.

“i understand if you don’t feel comfortable, i totally get it so don’t feel obliged, but if you do agree, i’ve got a gift for you.” one of seokjin’s eyebrows draws up at the last words, and your curiosity bursts through you, any lingering hesitance immediately left your body.

“my answer” you trail off, stepping back, seokjin’s hands fall away from yours and he thinks this is where your magical night ends, this is the night he will spend weeks daydreaming about, the night that will keep him up forever.

he will spend many days just weaving through the possibilities of what you could be, of what you could’ve been.

you keep him waiting, dwelling in the satisfaction that his nervous face brought.

“depends on your gift.” you give him a coy smile and he lets out an airy laugh, “you had me really scared there, for a second.” he shakes his head at you and you fight your smile from growing bigger, “i know.”

and before you say something else to drop his heart to his ass, seokjin pulls out a chunky, tourist necklace with a laugh threatening to break from his throat. the necklace has a huge locket, with the words ‘berlin’ sprawled on it in vivd, neon colors.

it looks ugly.

he knows it looks ugly.

“i think i’ll just head inside” you playfully turn around on your heel and attempt to walk away, you count down the seconds it takes him to put you back in his arms.

one.

two.

three.

he lasted three seconds.

a record for the night truly.

seokjin’s arms immediately pulled you back to him and as you pretended to struggle against his grip, the ugly necklace was already resting on your clavicle.

“you really thought this would convince me to come home with you?” your hands pull on the necklace as seokjin bows over in laughter, “oh come on, it’s not that bad” he stands straight, clearing his throat, his face fighting to stay passive.

you give him an unimpressed look and that’s enough for him to burst into wheezes of laughter again.

and you love it, you love how freely seokjin laughs.

you want to hear it forever.

you stand there with your arms crossed against your chest, a fond smile etched on your face as you watch the man of your night, start to calm down. and he does, in the dramatic fashion you expect him to, fanning his face to force air onto his red cheeks as his eyes wrinkle with pure joy.

“if you’re done, can we go back to yours already?” you tap your foot impatiently, shying away from the fact that you just agreed to spend even more time with him. seokjin’s heart grows wings as his eyes drift over your soft smile, your tired but happy eyes, and then, the big, ugly necklace that rests on your body now.

“i knew you would like it.”

-

“you have a cute home” you look at the photos hanging off his walls, all of them with either his family or the boys from the band. a fond smile grew on your face as you come across a photo with a very young jin holding a fishing rod. “you fish?” you turn around to see him setting up wine glasses on the counter.

“i used to” he sighed, coming around to give you a glass, for which you thank him silently, “why, no fish in berlin?” you tease him as you take a sip, he remains silent. your mood slips when he doesn’t smile at you as he has been all night.

“i’m sorry if i overstepped” you quickly apologize, not meaning to bring up anything that wasn’t comfortable for him, he shakes his head in response, “no no, god no. don’t say sorry, i just haven’t didn’t feel like fishing anywhere except home” he stares at the picture where he holds the fish with both longing and resignation.

“you miss seoul?”

“always.”

“i can’t imagine missing home” you gulp as you imagine how you would be if you moved places, you wouldn’t survive without your comfort zone. “it’s not all bad.” seokjin smiles reassuringly but you aren’t convinced.

“you just said you miss home always.”

“i do but if i went back home, i would miss this too. imagine if i never left seoul, i would have never joined a band, i would have never put my lovely voice to use,” you scoff as he holds back a laugh, “i would have never known where you can find the cheapest alcohol in berlin, nor would i have ever bought some ugly necklace for a pretty woman.” you look away at the last part, hiding your burning cheeks away by staring out the window, “you buy a lot of women necklaces?”

“only the one, actually.” he steps in front of you with a smirk playing on his lips.

“my, she must be lucky” your voice drips with sarcasm as you raise the ugly necklace to his face, “i would insist i am the lucky one” his eyes are light as seokjin hums and traces the shape of the necklace which falls back on your clavicle.

the lightest touch between his fingers and your skin makes you suck in a breath.

as if a passing cloud suddenly rained down on you.

but you have been waiting for the droplets, you have been waiting for the thunder and storm.

you have been waiting for him to do something that leaves you breathless.

seokjin steps forward, grabs your wine glass, and places it on the counter.

“you know, i’ve met so many people over the years i joined the band,” he whispers his words and you quirk your eyebrow, “you’re not off to a great start, seokjin,”

he stifles a laugh behind his hand before clearing his throat and bringing his hands to rest on your jaw, “you are so impatient.” though it’s a trait of yours that you hate so very much, the way he says it with admiration instead of malice, makes your heart burn in your chest.

“you are making me wait too long” you whisper back, shivering under his fingers which traced your features carefully, intently as his eyes spark back with light-heartedness.

“i apologize for that” he sweeps a hand under your jaw and gently tugs your face towards his and your stomach flips into itself.

everything around you faded into oblivion.

but seokjin wandered and invaded every single one of your senses.

his lips were pillow-soft, as soft as you had imagined.

his soft breath warmed your cheeks.

his hair fell around your eyes and made it hard for you to see.

but you could see.

you could see all of him even with your eyes closed.

you could feel all of him especially with your eyes closed.

his hands that clutched your body like it was his oxygen.

his legs that couldn’t possibly step closer to you but still tried.

his shoulders that were strong under your hands.

how were you going to ever leave him behind?

“seokjin i-“ you let out helplessly, trying to tell him that this was only going to be this one night, that you would have to leave him here. he chooses to soothe his hands over your arms, easing your panic as quickly as it came, and gives you a soft kiss, parting away with a nod to let you continue.

that made it a thousand times harder to tell him.

there was no one way to do this.

“my flight is tomorrow.”

“what?”seokjin’s relaxed face twists as sadness settles behind his eyes. “it’s booked for the evening” you give the information with a wince. his grip on you falters as an uneasy smile break on his face, “i thought you were just at the beginning of your trip.”

you wish it was.

you wish so badly that it was.

he steps away from your space, you understand it’s his form of rejection. it feels like a burning sting running down your back and you hold back the tears that dangle on your lashes, you couldn’t bear this. this was the closest you had ever gotten to love in your entire life and it was crumbling in just some hours.

you didn’t want seokjin to be some distant memory.

you didn’t want to wake up and reminisce on what could have been.

“i don’t want this to end here” you say, voice quivering with vulnerability. you didn’t care if you will be rejected again, you didn’t care if he tells you to leave and your arms shifted to cover your stomach, a poor attempt at protecting yourself.

this was the first time you knew, for sure, something that you wanted and you weren’t going to cost yourself the pain that comes from not trying at all.

but seokjin’s silence was weakening your hope and you wanted to curl into yourself for ever believing that you could have a shot at love.

“i don’t want this to end either.”

his words sunk into you slowly and filled you with the warmth that dissipated from your body.

“are you sure?” you hated how weak you sounded.

seokjin tutted at you, stepping into your space to unfold your arms that held before you as defense and engulfed your hands in his.

“i would hate myself for a long time if i didn’t give us a try, it’s going to be hard but i have a good feeling about this. there’s so much more i want to know about you and there’s so much i want you to know about me, so this can’t end here.”

he breathes back life into you with the promise hidden in his words, that he’s going whichever way you are willing to as well.

“me too, i want more, way more than just this night.”

seokjin’s face fills with both relief and agreement, it reassures you that this wasn’t just you going crazy here, this wasn’t just you hanging onto whatever you could, this was both of you, unwilling to let your chance at love die tonight.

so, you spent all night, with each other, in each other, sharing every bit of yourself that you could in the time that you did.

but soon, the sun shone too bright and your eyes couldn’t stop filling up with tears.

-

you held your breath as you pushed the door open to seokjin’s studio, at least, you hoped this was the one. you had been to his old studios but they just moved into this one, so you had no idea what it looked like.

your palms were getting sweaty.

“y/n!” you heard hoseok, the vocalist and rapper from seokjin’s band chime from a corner and your entire body relaxes as you reach out for a hug. “seokjin hadn’t told us that you were coming, we would’ve cleaned up a bit” you both laughed together at the mess around your feet.

“this is kind of a surprise, so not his fault really.” you set aside the basket of baked goods you bought for them.

“thank you for this, we’ve all been out of it lately with the move and the new label so it’s nice to see you, i’m sure he will be ecstatic” hoseok hums as he digs through it.

“how’s the whole becoming a full-time band thing going?” you tried to distract yourself from the actual reason you were here, it was going to be a lot for seokjin to take at once.

“at the beginning, daunting as fuck, all of us were scared but we really didn’t have to worry so much, our gigs have been consistent and with this new baby, we can do so much more with our music.” you nodded, letting him rant to ease his mind and to also ease yours.

you were overjoyed when seokjin told you that they were becoming a legit band with a proper label, contract, and all the work. but hearing now how stressful it’s been, a tiny seed of worry plants itself in your mind that you were being selfish with this surprise.

but he will be happy, right?

like it’s all you two have talked about wanting. but that was before all the label stuff, before he had so much on his plate and your feet started tapping the ground incessantly as your worry continued to grow.

what if you guys break up over this?

what if he tells you that after all this time and effort, he didn’t want to be together anymore?

a jingle at the door made you jump as three figures started to huddle in.

you were out of time to worry anymore.

-

“just one more minute” you pleaded as your arms stayed tightly wrapped around seokjin’s torso, he let out a sad chuckle at that and granted your wish by letting you bury yourself in him. your friends stayed away to give you the privacy you needed for that minute.

this wasn’t fair.

your first shot at proper love couldn’t end this way, it wasn’t ending technically but still, you had no idea what would happen after this. all you knew for sure was that you had this one minute with him and everything after that, was left up to fate.

“i don’t think i can let you go” he whispers into your hair as he planted a soft kiss on your temple and your body shuddered with unshed tears threatening to cascade from your eyes.

“call everyday?” seokjin asks in a quiet tone, laced with the vulnerability that you braved when you told him that you wanted more. “everyday.” you nodded determinedly into his chest.

“visits whenever we can?” it was your turn to ask and seokjin nods just as determined as you, “whenever we can.”

“you won’t forget me” seokjin says with utter confidence, just to make you laugh, which you do with a full kind of happiness, “it’s kind of hard to” you point to the ugly necklace that you decided to keep on.

it was growing on you.

“we’ll find our way back to each other, okay? somewhere, the universe will and has to align for us and when it does, i will never leave you again.” your eyes, already swollen with the tears you’ve cried, grow wet again as you desperately force yourself to believe him.

it has to.

it absolutely has to.

it can’t just end here.

but as your hands leave him for the last time and your boarding ticket crumbles in your hold, you can’t help but feel that the future may not be as kind to you two as you hoped it would be.

-

meeting seokjin always felt brand new, in between the countless times you both flew to each other, touching his skin after waiting for a while, always took your breath away and managed to make you feel like the lightest cloud in the sky.

but as his arms engulfed you tightly, whispering words of surprise and amazement into your ears at seeing you after so long, your anxiety couldn’t be calmed, your hands couldn’t stop shaking and your breath refused to be even.

this was it, this was the day that would truly mark where you two would end up.

“i thought it was my turn to visit this time” he gleefully kissed your cheek and you nodded stiffly, “i just couldn’t wait” you replied, truthfully but your nerves were starting to give you a headache.

“are you okay? you look pale” seokjin’s eyes assessed you with concern as the back of his hand pressed into your forehead and you sighed.

you had to tell him, this could go badly but it could also go well and with that tiny hope, you tugged towards the exit with you and he followed you wordlessly.

through the years you have known seokjin now, you had fights, huge fights, arguments that you thought you couldn’t move past from, arguments that made you believe you were done. but every single time, you both found your way to each other.

and every single time, he gave you more reasons to stay and keep trying.

which is how you are here, in the city where you discovered love for the first time, throwing a stone into the blind for the future of your relationship and hoping it hits the right spot.

“so, what is on your mind?” he pulls you by your hand to wrap an arm around your body and you shiver with the same giddiness you felt all those years ago.

but you struggle to tell it to him.

no one talks about how scary it is to go a step forward in a relationship and just hope that they take the step too.

so, you don’t tell him. you slowly reach out for the promotion letter tucked away in your coat. you give it to him with shaking hands and with confused eyes, he looks at the paper that held both your futures.

you watch carefully as his eyes go wide and the largest grin grows on his face.

“you got it! you fucking did it, i knew you could but oh my god” seokjin gushes and smothers your face with kisses and you can’t help but giggle. “you actually kicked him out the program, i’m so proud of you” he presses a long kiss on your head and your insides warm with the love he showered on you.

“wait, look at the piece i submitted.” you show him the page where you wrote the story of men in berlin who found their home in each other and in their music, how they missed home but built a new one in a city unknown to them.

“this is about us?” the amazement in his voice brings a smile to your face.

“i couldn’t think of a better person to write about, you are the story that people need to know about because you’ve found the heart to make a strange, new place, your new home.” seokjin’s eyes fill with unshed tears, “you wrote all this?” he chokes back a sob and you know he’s beyond happy with it, so you nod eagerly.

“there’s more” you whisper as you point to the very end of the paper.

the end, where it states, that the headquarters of your organization would permanently move to berlin.

seokjin stares at the text for one second without a word.

two seconds.

three seconds.

this was a mistake, you should’ve talked about this with h-

“is this real? does this mean what i think it does?” he whispers to you, voice filled with confusion and hardly contained joy. you nod at him and bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for him to let you down gently or jump in the air with you.

his response comes in the form of him throwing his entire body onto yours, holding you so tightly that you can hardly breathe but you’re okay being breathless, you hardly contain your shivers of happiness when he starts whispering how grateful he was to you, and how much he loved you.

“so, you’re okay with this?” you ask, unable to keep the question hanging in your head. he pulls back and looks at you with such adoration, that you feel dumb for even asking the question.

“are you kidding me? this is all we’ve ever wanted, everything i’ve dreamed of since we started with this. i get to see you everyday and i can’t think of a better thing in my life from now on.” he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear with teary eyes and that’s all it takes for you to cry as well.

“this is good, very good, why are we crying?” you sob into his chest and he shakes his head, unable to give you an answer but holding you tighter against him.

it was hard to make the decision to move but your town didn’t feel right anymore, and there were so many stories to tell, so many days to spend with seokjin that you just couldn’t give up on, so when the offer to berlin came through, you took it right away with a giddy heart.

“this changes everything for us” he sighs out and you tense again, “in the best way possible, i can’t wait to make you sick of me” seokjin lets out a low laugh at your worried face before kissing all your frown lines separately.

and you let him, you let him continue to kiss your worries away.

you look around the city which will soon become your home, a feeling churns in your stomach but you know this time, that it wasn’t your anxiousness, it wasn’t because you had to go running somewhere else, it was because you finally found your person and your place.

that was enough to spark tears back in your eyes and this time, it’s all happiness, it’s all joy, it’s all the excitement that comes with getting to spend every day with the person you love, in the city, that helped you find love.

[themiserablechick]

Die your daughter

God…please forgive me

Inspired by @starfxkr lamb!reader and @swiftiekisses “Divine Figures.”

Uses some real Bible verses and a line from one gospel song.

Slight implication of sex in like one line

I’m not sure if cross service is something many churches do but I went to one and I felt it in my bones

I also don’t know if everyone wears black in Good Friday

Um if this sucks… pretend it doesn’t!!!

✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟

You stood and stared at a picture of Jesus that lived on the walls of Tannyhill waiting for Rafe in your black sheath dress, you were mourning.

You wanted him to say something to reach out and touch you. You tilted your head up and closed your eyes waiting for a sign when you felt a hand on the small of your back you jumped out of your skin.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Rafe half smiled

“Hey! You hit his arm. “Don’t say the lords name in vain.” He rolled his eyes but you still scolded him

“Why aren’t you wearing black”

Rafes eyebrows scrunched “why are you?”

You turned to the picture again “because Jesus died today we’re mourning,change.”

It was Good Friday- cross services. One of the most important days in your family. Today your father would go up on a stage, relay the story of Jesus and build a cross, live in front of all of figure 8. He’s done this every year for as long as you could remember. It made you feel sick this year knowing the man your father was knowing why you were even in Tannyhill, knowing why you were with Rafe in the first place.

The men you love, full of sin

Repent

Repent

Rafe came next to you now in a black dress shirt and laid a hand on the small of your back again “we’re late, let’s go”

Your father gave the service and you sat behind him in the choir, he chopped the wood of the cross at a nauseating pace.It made you flinch, made your mind wander to unholy acts you had committed with Rafe.

Repent.

Admittedly you had zoned out for half the service but what you did pick up on was your father talking about the sacrificial lamb you only truly payed attention because he looked in your eyes.

“God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt sacrifice, my son.”

His voice booming to the more than a hundred people in the audience but he only spoke to you.He compared the lamb’s sacrifice to Jesus’ how he was crucified for our sin , so we could be pure.

He wasn’t talking to you, no it was far beyond that. He was talking about you. You were the sacrificial lamb, you were Christ. Sacrificed to the Cameron’s to pay for your families sins.

“A gift from God” your father would call you.He often compared you the story of Abraham. A miracle baby delivered from God,but you were not Abraham, you were the sacrifice. You would die on the mountain top.

You looked to Rafe in the crowd, uninterested like he always seemed in church. He didn’t understand like you, how important this all was how could he, you knew Jesus more intimately than most he consumed your waking thoughts.

Repent

Repent

Sometimes you swore you heard God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.” Your head snapped up as you heard your father repeat the verse. You wondered what your own father could possibly know about God, how he could fathom “the word”

Once your father finished his service the cross was built and erected before you as you were called to sing about “the never ending overwhelming reckless love of God”

As you sang with the cross in front of you and you understood now, although you weren’t hanging from the cross this was your crucification, this was the end of your life as the preachers daughter you would become something new. You wore black on Good Friday because you were mourning but on Sunday, you will wear white and be born new.

[starsxblazing]

Iridescence

I was listening to Iridescent by Linkin Park and all of the ideas for this AU were impossible to get out of my brain so this is what I pumped out within thirty minutes

Summary: Living in the slums of San Antonio, your train wreck of a life with your abusive boyfriend seems to be never ending. A new neighbor slowly pulls your attention towards him.

Warnings: descriptions of domestic violence, drugs, abuse, violence, description of blood and gore, death, personality disorders, depression, angst. So much angst.

Azriel x Reader

You sat in front of your full-length mirror propped on the floor, flinching when the front door to your trailer slammed shut, before examining the bruises covering your face. It had been a miracle that you had learned how to use makeup enough to cover up the evidence so that no one asked any questions. There were no longer any voiced concerns from anyone that you worked with or the only person that you had left in your life that you could consider a friend and it was a small relief.

Memories and thoughts turned over in your mind as you started the task of covering up the bruises adorning different parts of your face, searching to figure out where things went so wrong. Your relationship with James had been going on since you were sixteen and it had been tumultuous at the very least. He had always been on a downward spiral but you always kept the hope that he would be the person that you knew he had the potential to be.

His attitude had gotten even worse since the move. The small town that you both grew up in had a high crime rate that always made you afraid to do anything and there was a terrible problem with the lack of jobs. The latter was the biggest reason that you had moved to San Antonio once you had been accepted into one of the colleges here. You had been in the top five of your class, more than earning your bachelor’s degree in business. Despite your majors of finance and human resources, you struggled to find a good job in a good company.

Your two minimum wage jobs were barely enough to keep you afloat which resulted in the tiny, rundown trailer park that you now resided in. James refused to find work of his own and when he did, his employment never lasted long. It didn’t take a genius to know that he was purposely sabotaging his opportunities and making a bad name for himself but there wasn’t anything that you could do about it. 

The fight that started as soon as you got off of work had lasted throughout the entire night all of the way up until he finally just left to do whatever it was that he did. You were exhausted and didn’t know how you were going to make it through your eight hours in the factory and then the retail job that you had immediately after. 

Your car was just as bad as your home, nothing but a simple rust bucket that decided on its own some days to not start. Every wrong noise came from it during your commute to work and you couldn’t help but wonder just how long that it would last. The thought spiraled your depression further because you didn’t have the money to make any payments on even the cheapest of cars, unable to even afford to get any repairs that needed to be taken care of. 

You forced the thoughts away while throwing on the simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans before slipping on your steel toed shoes and looking around your room, unable to linger on the many holes in the walls. The entirety of the small area constantly smelled of mildew, the leak in the roof from rain that followed the dense dry heat only making it worse by the day. What you could tell was once white carpet was now brown and littered with black spots that caused the putrid odor. 

The bed, if you could even call it that, wasn’t in much better condition. The mattress, which was second hand, sat on the floor since you weren’t able to afford any form of a bedframe. You had gone without eating for almost a week simply by buying your also second hand couch that was barely usable. The small journal that was now on the floor from James’s violent outburst had been knocked from the tiny dresser and caught your eye just as you were about to leave. 

As you flipped through it, your heart dropped at the list of bills and the ones that were due in just a few days. Your bank account had been drained yet again by your boyfriend and there was no way that you weren’t going to be past due. The thought brought tears to your eyes because it would only cost you even more money that you didn’t have. You cursed the horrible economy and the overpriced hell hole that you lived in.

Making your way into the small living room/kitchen combo area of your trailer, you stopped to look at the thermostat. A snort left you at the irony because it didn’t belong there. It wasn’t like it had worked since you had moved in five years ago. The common sight of a scurrying mouse from the corner of your eye pulled your attention to it just before it ran across your feet and through a hole at the bottom of the wall. A variety of roaches scattered across the walls from your presence but that was also nothing new. 

Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, causing you to sigh because that had been another point of your argument from the night before. James didn’t work or contribute anything to the house. Not even cleaning. You were hardly ever there so it wasn’t like any of it was your mess to begin with. It was a never ending futile battle but it never failed to bug you at the end of the day in your exhaustion.

Your next task was searching for your phone and car keys, which had been thrown somewhere in the process. It had been hard at the time to know what he did with them since your vision had blurred at the time from where James had elbowed you in the nose. To the best of your knowledge, your keys were in the front yard somewhere but your phone was a different story. The broken window that overlooked the backyard told you enough. It was probably somewhere amidst the tall grass that was past due for a cut but your lack of a lawn mower made that impossible to do. It would die soon enough anyway since the cooler air of winter was slowly moving in.

Just as you suspected, your phone was in the damp backyard with the battery completely drained. There was also a new crack on the screen but you couldn’t be bothered to worry about it because it was too close to time for you to leave. Your keys took a bit longer to track down since there were no obvious signs of where they landed.

The sight of a moving truck at the front of the trailer next door pulled your attention away from your task, the new emotion of curiosity a welcome one. Your neighboring trailer was the nicest one in the park but it was far from being considered homey. It was a one bedroom just as all of them were and extremely overpriced for the condition that it was in. You had looked at it before moving into the one that you now lived in and it was in complete working condition, a far cry from being similar to your own.

Your gaze on the sight next door was enough to have you stumbling over the very item that you had forgotten about, nearly causing you to tumble to the ground right as someone was exiting the home. Heat rose to your cheeks when your eyes connected with the man’s across the small yards that you both had. You weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that he almost saw you fall or because he was the most beautiful man that you had ever seen. 

Shaking your head to clear it, you snatched up your keys and hoped that you would make it to work without any problems.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Day.26 ~ Sinfully Sweet ~ Hallowtober

Father Ignatius x nun!reader

warning: kiss, fluff, comfort, no use of Y/n

Summary: October, as soon as the year got darker, seemed to be the devil coming… she had been taught that. Father Ignatius wants to change that, he wants to show her that even though it's dark, this dark time can also be sweet and loving instead of full of blood and pain and fear.

info: I actually wanted to write more for him but haven't gotten around to it yet, so have fun reading the day for him :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October and its predecessor September seemed to be the months when the sun was getting shorter and shorter, when the darkness grew ever greater, and above all, they seemed to be the sweet months of the year when her temptations to evil grew ever greater.

After all that had happened, after all the blood and pain, the nightmares and truths and lies. Truths about how horrible this world was and lies that everything was bad, even though she often thought that everything was dark, she tried to get to herself.

This did not apply to the light that she had found in her darkest hour. Her angel, her guide… the man who, like her Adam, had led her into the Garden of Eden to show her the wonders of the world that she missed when she only listened to the harsh voices of her sisters.

He was there when she came off the island, she was with him when he helped her into his car, gently took her hand and ignored the blood that stained them both, still from all the fear that had happened, she saw what she was: a woman, a normal woman, and not a “disturbed sinner” as the voices had called her.

It was he who, in his kindness, stayed with her in the darkness. His greenish eyes looked at her with understanding and no hatred as he slowly embraced her.

His fingers burned warmly on her skin as he slowly washed the dirt of the past from her, always with sweet, soothing words on his tongue…and as the pages of the Bible and survived for thousands of years.

The initial time between them also passed before she moved in with him, and it quickly became clear that she still couldn't live alone for a long time without calling him every two minutes at church or at his house and asking what ghosts, devils and demons were doing outside in October.

A fact that amused him. ,,Not at all, my dear, these are just costumes for children to dress up in to get sweets,” he explained, showing her pictures in the news and newspapers in which she saw families in these costumes. She only slowly understood that it was done for fun and tradition.

However, there were plenty of scarers and laughs later before she and Ignatius went to the supermarket to get sweets that had previously only been raw sugar or honey for her.

Now they were sitting together on his couch and watching the TV, which was like a miracle itself for her, scary episodes of children's series were running and she liked the group with the talking dog, even though the demons were really creepy. ,,This is a Mars bar and this is candy corn,” he explained to her, putting the two sweets in her hand. She found the colorful triangular candy interesting and the Mars bar crackled beautifully.

But most of all, she was pleased with herself when she finally tasted the candy and saw the blonde's smile. of the blonde, who was holding her hand joyfully and was simply relieved that the whole thing had a happy ending, ,,You can eat as many as you like, you don't have to hold back…it won't bother the big ones.” Ignatius assured her and she believed him, didn't she?

He was a godsend and those creepy creatures out there would never get her, not when she felt that connection, that love in another kiss on her lips and lay in his arms to enjoy this new life and the horror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[visionsofmagic]

⋆ ― ◜week of celebs◝ ― ⋆

DAY THREE: robert pattinson x f!reader

previous | masterlist | next  

• summary: robert and you go for the met gala and when he sees you, he just realizes you are the prettiest girl once again. | wc: 1.3k | tags&warnings: fluff (believe me when I say it), a slight nsfw content too, before!met gala event, kissing, girlfriend!reader, robert is such a good boyfriend, gentle!rob, touching, dirty talk, playful!rob and reader, teasing, enjoy! [also, so sorry for the wait because I had to change my phone, going to practicum process and doing my finals, so, hope this chap will be good! thank u!

Robert knows you are so pretty – the prettiest girl alive he can see and feel. He is sure he is lucky to have you, as he always tells, believing you are his miracle, giving him happiness and affection his soul seeks for. However, he realizes these facts once again when he sees you in a dress that covers your body so beautifully that he fears that his vision go blind because of the light you are spreading with the dress he never seen before on you and your smile – oh, that gorgeous smile, he thinks, the one he can give his life for to see. 

“Oh, love,” He tries to say as he makes his way to you, arms half open to hug you when he reaches his destination, “My love, you look –“ He can’t find any word enough to say how beautiful you look – even more than just a beauty. He can swear if you say you are an angel, he will believe right away because you look so much like an angel – with pureness and light only he sees thanks to being your boyfriend, the one you give your heart and soul to with body as well. 

“You look so good that even if I use hundreds of words to describe it, it will not be enough.” He says in a genuine tone. He always tells truth to you – you don’t deserve lie, no one does, and he likes to be sure that he doesn’t say even white lies because lie is a lie, without matter of the color of it. 

Smiling to him, you feel wonderful because you know how he means it when he says it. He is gentle with you – a perfect boyfriend you have, making every day of your life bearable, worth to live and happy. 

“You are making me blush, honey.” You say as he stays in front of you, opening his arms wider enough for you to get his gesture and hug his neck tightly, feeling softness of the fabric of his suit. His hands find their places on your waist, pulling you closer, putting a few kisses on your hair and spends a moment to smell your hair, saying ‘hmm’ in a low voice – he is happy, so happy, to have you like this, in his arms, kissing freely and seeing your smile, hearing your little chuckles when he says, “You look like the sun on earth, you know that right?” 

Breaking the hug a little, you look at his eyes, smirking playfully, “When you become the moon, I decided that I should be your sun.” I say, referring to his role as The Batman and how the character is belong to nights – to the moon of the nights. Robert is opposite to the Batman with all his gentleness, smiles – oh, those cute little smiles, light golden brown hair and blue eyes with full of sparkles, but, when you have a chance to tease him, you take it.

Chuckling, he puts a kiss on your nose, “You are always my sun, darling, even before I play that role,” He kisses your forehead, “My sun – the light of my life,” He kisses your cheeks one by one, “My love – the one I love from the deepest part of my heart and soul.” Lastly, he puts a kiss on your lips, warmness flowing from his to yours for a moment before he gets back and wait for your action. Oh, such a tease, you think but you play with his little game still.

Firstly, you kiss his nose like he did, “And you are my moon – making my night lighten up with your own gleam.” Then, I kiss his forehead, raising on my tiptoes as he lowers his head down a little with a chuckle, and I hit his shoulder gently with a smile, “My beloved who I want see as the first thing in the morning and the last thing in the night.” I kiss both of his cheeks that have light blushes on, “The one who has my heart and soul within my body,” Lastly, I kiss his lips, longer than his, wanting to feel him closer. Getting my gist, he hugs me tightly, closing the gap between our bodies, making them crash into each other as my hands on his neck travel into his hair, then to his shoulder, ending on his chest. The kiss take longer than I expect but I feel like he needs it – he needs to feel me long enough to let me go, and I agree to his idea because I want to have him too. 

Between the kisses we share, I feel one of his hand goes up to my neck as the other one lowers down to my ass and I chuckle, saying, “Robert, I th –” I moan when he bites my lower lip, closing my eyes because of the feeling, unable to speak more and this makes him laugh playfully, knowing his own effect on me.

“You were saying something, sweetheart?” He asks but he doesn’t wait for my answer when he walks towards me, making me taking steps backwards and when my back find the surface of the nearest wall, I say, “We should go before it is too late.”

I want to stay though, letting him have his way with me and taking all the pleasure he can give but we can’t stay any longer before it is too late to go for the gala which he needs to go as his manager says.

“Just a few minutes, believe me,” He says, hands go under your long skirt as he pulls it up, making your thighs and legs be exposed to his eyes and when his hands touch your ass, he stops for a moment, eyes wide open as he asks in disbelief, “No underwear?” He almost sounds like he enjoys this too much.

With a sudden shy that hit me, I lower my head down, shrugging, I smile, “I – I wanted to tease you with it when we arrive the gala.”

He smirks, feeling shy like you do too but he is better for hiding it than you – always. “You are such a tease! I love it,” He kisses your neck; “You have no idea how much I want to tear this dress up and have you right here.” He speaks with no hesitation – only truth and lust can be heard in his attractive voice. You know how he can be a playboy so easily when it comes to you – only you.

“But we should go,” you say, taking his hands back from your ass even if you want him so much right now. “However, I can give you a promise though,” You say, smirking, making him furrow with curiosity on his face expression.

“And what is that?” He asks; hands stop on the wall, right beside your waist, caging you inside his body.

You put your hands on his neck, still having a smirk, “When we come back to the house, I will let you having your way with me – without no disapproval.”

He only laughs at your deal. Holding your chin with his fingers, he says, “My pretty girl – oh, I will take you with my way, you can be sure about that,” He lowers his head down, whispering into your ear intensely, “But who said I would not have you in the gala?”

It makes your legs shake in excitement because deep down, you know Robert will hold his promise, finding a way to give pleasure both to you and to him and only the idea enough to make you give him all.

Smiling, he puts a kiss on your cheek as he holds you from the waist. Then, he fixes your dress like a gentleman, asking you whether you are ready or not. When you nod, he takes you by the hand and smile widely, “Let’s go and make the whole world see how beautiful you are and that you are my beloved.”

The end. 💕

[persage]

A little less awful - Shane Walsh

Summary: When Shane comes close to losing you, he realizes that just the idea scares him more than he thought. But things aren't easy, not with a man like him.

(Post S2) Shane Walsh x Reader

Usually I only write about Steve Harrington, but this time I wanted to try something different. I know Shane isn't the good guy, I know he's not that loved too, but he's given me a great inspiration to write (and then every once in a while my love for morally gray characters takes over) so here's this little work because i admit, it's my fault, but i wish I could see more of Shane. Also my man Jon Bernthal deserves everything.

Words: 3k

It's a rustle in the middle of the meadow, broken branches and trampled dry leaves. The noise of quick footsteps and heavy breathing approaching. A thud, a moan and then footsteps again. You run fast in the direction of an abandoned house and behind you a horde of walkers is chasing you, so many that this time you can't help but think it's over. Really over.

You've been scared many times since this hell started devastating the whole world, your life and erasing what you've known. You were scared when you saw your father transform, your friends die -  by the walkers or equally monstrous men - but you have never  feared for your life like you are doing now. It's just that things have been going well for a while, far too long, and you felt like you could manage to live in peace here. You were obviously wrong.

You have only one thought in mind. It's the face of a man, his strong features, short hair that is growing back,  eyes darker than the night, so full of demons that only you know how to keep at bay. If you don't reach the cottage soon the walkers will make you their meal and no, you don't want to die. For you. For him. He'll never admit it openly, he's not a man of big demonstrations, but you know you're the one holding him together, that if you die he falls apart.

Also you don't want to die before hearing those words leave his lips. You don't want to die before you know that there is still some hope in the world, some kind of love. Above all you don't want to die to feed these damned monsters.

Out of breath  you let go in a cry of frustration, while you feel your legs getting weaker the only thing that drives you is the adrenaline. With one last desperate shot you reach the house and he's here, rifle in hand, ready as always.

"Shane!" you scream. You have never been so happy to see him in your life.

"Go inside, hurry!" he replies as bullets whiz through the air, impacting what remains of the walkers rotting skulls. You mentally thank the fortuitous coincidence that made you find an armory on your path weeks ago, there was nothing left but an old silencer hidden in a corner. Your little miracle. You see Shane drop his stoic mask for a moment when he runs out of bullets, or maybe it's the rifle jamming, you don't know, you don't understand and you don't have time to do it, you grab the hunting knife placed on the chair behind you, in the small veranda of the house. With a small jerk, ignoring his protests, you move away to stab one of the two remaining walkers in the head, splashing all the blood around. Shane is immediately at your side, ready to kill the other with his dagger. Then, making sure they're all dead, he turns around and, with his back to you, walks towards the house.Your home. You silently observe the tortured dead bodies. You wonder if one day you'll find a familiar face among them, you wonder if anyone will find yours, if they will ever have compassion.

You don't have any, you can't. Shane taught you that you don't have to have any to survive.

"Shane" you began by breaking the silence as soon as you reach him, leaning against the wall for support. You're so tired you just want to fall to the ground, but you can't. You don't want to be weak, not in front of him. He 's always so strong, ready, invincible.

Sometimes you wonder if he's even human.

When you found him wounded in a field months ago, none of your old group gave him a chance of survival, no one wanted to take him with you except for you and Arnold, a former war doctor. Arnold was good and if it wasn't for him Shane would be dead. It was your job to take care of him. He was unconscious and in the throes of a delirious fever and you dragged him along with a makeshift stretcher made of wood and rags for a day and a half without respite before finding a place to let him recover. The other members of the group left you with him and you didn't object, because people who leave behind a wounded but alive man - in a world where being alive is a privilege - will do the same with you.

Shane woke up 3 days later. It took him weeks to recover. He never told you what happened to him, he only said he deserved it. You didn't believe him, cause in the end you wanted him to be a good man. You wanted to know saving his life was worth it. Then you hit the road again, Arnold died and you two were left alone. You've become each other's only comfort, even though Shane Walsh is a difficult comfort, a difficult man that you sometimes feel you don't know. know nothing about. It's Ironic since he the only thing you have left in the world.

With the bloody knife still in hand he walks towards you. He's not threatening you, he wouldn't hurt you and you know it, that's why you stay still. "Y/n fuck! why do you always mess up? You're not able for once to....Keep quiet, not go wandering around almost getting caught by those bloody walkers. No cause there's always fucking Shane to save you ass" He yells. You look into his eyes for a few seconds.

"You could have left me there"

You reply without a single emotion in you voice, moving away from him without looking back. You know Shane is trying to grab your wrist, you know he stops before doing it. He looks at his arm outstretched towards you, the muscles, the hand shaking with anger and fear. He dropps the knife from his other hand and brought a hand to the back of his neck like he always does, then let it slide over his face and when you are gone, hiding in the only room of the house, he let himself slide to the floor, caught in the realization that this time he could have really lost you. That it can happend at any moment and it's not that he hasn't thought about it before but this is time... It was so close. So real. He feels something acid rise in his throat, a knot, a block of cement. He would like to throw up.

He wasn't there to protect you, like always.

Like he has never protected anyone, because Shane isn't able, because Rick has always been the one able to defend his people. He misses him, his brother.

He also misses Carl. And Lori.

They were family, the one he wanted to protect, the one he destroyed without apology or justification.

You screwed up, Walsh.

He looks at the closed door of the bedroom and Shane wonders if he's destroying you too. Since the moment he opehas opened his eyes and saw you cleaning his wounds he has decided he wanted to be better. he still does, he wants to try to find himself - the man he was before all this, who ran to the hospital to save his best friend, the policeman Shane Walsh - but a good person doesn't treat their loved ones like he treats you.

A good person doesn't hurt someone he cared about like he is hurting you, like he is ruining you with his only presence here. A good person wouldn't stay in this house so long. No, he should have followed the original plan: find you a safe place, with other good people because there must be someone like this in the world. Maybe Rick. He should have find him leave you with him and you would be safer.

He will do it.

Then he will go away forever, so as not to stain yourself with his darkness, with his madness. Because Shane has now discovered a beast in himself and is afraid that the time will come when he will not be able to contain it again. Truth is that every day he repeats himself that you will leave the next one and it never happens and every day the idea of letting you is harder to accept cause he is just an selfish peace of shit.

When evening falls, you barricade yourself in the house and light the fire in what is left of the fireplace, in silence, with brusque gestures that reveal nervousness. Shane kicks out a couple of squirrels and starts quietly skinning them with his knife, like Daryl taught him to do a while back. He throws you one without even looking at you and you sit cross-legged around the hearth, to roast what little meat you can get. You lack real food.

You're hungry and you're tired and you want to cry, but you don't.

Shane would think you're crying for him and it's not like that, really.

You don't care about his reaction, you don't care about his outburst and you don't care that he doesn't talk to you, that he doesn't trust you and that he keeps his distance when you just want human contact. It doesn't matter that he touches your hands and then builds walls between you, that he kisses your neck at night or holds you in your sleep like you are the most precious thing on earth without ever taking an extra step towards you. You don't care about these things, they can't matter when you're experiencing the end of the world, right?

You eat looking down, obviously hungry. Shane instead looks at you chewing slowly. Once finished he leans on his elbows, he sighs watching the fire dance in front of him, then you again, illuminated by the orange light of the flames.

You are pretty. No, you are beautiful.

Shane knows it, he's always known it, but now it's like having an apparition in front of his eyes. You're perfect even now, tired to the point of exhaustion, with dirty hai and badly tied hair while eating a squirrel. You're beautiful and you're the only thing he has. His angel, his savior. And he has no right to desire you, to have you by his side. He has no right to look at you like that. You lift your head crossing his gaze with arched eyebrows

"What are you looking at?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." he replies unexpectedly. You throw away the remaining bones and clean your fingers as best you can, trying to have a semblance of elegance under his watchful eye. You hug your knees, sinking your face into them. Shane tilts his head, trying to catch your expression. He knows you're on edge and he's terrified of seeing you cry in front of him again, he's not good at that sort of thing anymore. Once, oh, once he was very good but now, now he's afraid of always making mistakes and he prefers not to try for fear of hurting you more. He doesn't want to hurt you, he can't bear the thought of letting anyone else down. He would rather die. And he hates that you have met him now, that you will never know a world where he was just Deputy Shane Walsh, and not Shane Walsh the survivor who tried to kill his best friend, the one who was sleeping with his wife, the one who wanted his family, the leader no one wanted, the hero no one recognized.

Shane Walsh, the villain from someone else's story.

"I'm sorry I made you angry." he adds, with a strange softness in his voice.

It hits you. Usually he would have just waited for your anger to subside and everything would have returned to normal, but something inside him changed and he couldn't say when. Stupid lonely man, stupid weak heart.

"It doesn't matter."You reply. You've almost resigned yourself to always seeming the weakest, it was like this even before, with your group and it's like this now. You want so much to look strong for a moment and show Shane how much potential you have, but after getting chased by a horde of walkers for trying to hunt something for him you think you've lost all hope. A cold shiver runs down your back and you unconsciously try to warm your arm with one hand

"I was a fool." You continue letting out a little sad laugh. You approach the fire with disjointed and awkward movements and he smiles without realizing it, finding your awkwardness terribly cute. He has seen you run miles of tree-lined paths, jump and scramble for survival with extreme ease and then you get stuck at the simplest things. It's sweet. Shane always says your problem is that you your head too much "And you don't use it at all"

He shakes his head, gets up and goes away. You, lost in thought, stare at the fire without wondering where he is going. When he comes back a few minutes later he has a blanket in his hands and sits next to you draping it over your shoulders.

"Thank you..." you whisper. "You must have thought I'm weak." Shane shakes his head again in disagreement

"No." he answers. You nod, holding back tears and rest your head on his shoulder slowly, for fear of a rejection that won't come. Before he can even feel your weight against his body, Shane is already hugging you, squeezing you affectionately. The truth is that he cares about you, he is afraid of losing you because he knows that if he loses you, he loses everything. His purpose is to keep you alive, to find a better place for you. Today he got scared but he never thought of you as weak, after all if you really from walkers, you would have been one of them. The only thought makes him shiver. You don't deserve such a terrible end.

You raise your head with slightly shining eyes and just smile tenderly. "Even if you treat me badly sometimes, I know you're a good person, deep down." you say. Shane looks you in the eye. His gaze is veiled in night yet sparkle with a new light that you have rarely seen in him and that you recognize immediately.

Affection. Devotion. Lust.

Shane wonders how he can hold on, how he can keep you away when you're the only thing keeping him grounded, wonders how he's done it so far because now that you're so close, with your soft skin ready to be kissed, he understands incredibly difficult. He Imagines the sensation of your warm skin under his big hands, the way your nails could dig into his back, the way your little hands would grip his shoulders, the softness of your voice becoming a moan softly begging his name.

He looks away, he'd better never have such thoughts. He couldn't think of you like that, you're... You're still good, still uncorrupted by the new world, still willing to believe there's something good in the world and he doesn't want to screw it up. But you don't care about this, about what he did, what he could do. You care that despite believing himself evil and dangerous, Shane Walsh has always protected you.

He has kept you alive. He has caressed you, with his fingers barely touching you, while the world tried to suffocate you. And you want more now, you want to discover all that Shane Walsh can be and give, you want to discover what it's like to be a part of him. He turns his head towards you again and it's the anticipation of something, the trepidation of a moment, you shiver under his warm and slow touch. His fingertips brush your ears as he brushes the hair away from your face.

"Are you still cold?" He asks. His voice is hoarse, broken. This strong and intrepid man you've seen defeating monsters, now he almost seems to be afraid of you. You grab his hand, he lets himself be guided as you bring it to your lips and kiss his fingertips.

"Y/n" he whispers.

"Don't say we can't, don't say that," you mutter.

"I can't... I don't" You shake your head.

"But do you want, Shane?" He can't deny it, he swallows letting his gaze run between your eyes and your lips, so damn close to his fingers that he feels your warm breath tickling him. "I don't want to hurt you"

You smile. "Let me" You begin "Let me prove to you that you can't hurt me Shane." he remains motionless, closes his eyes, a gesture of surrender as you approach and place a kiss on his cheek, long, then one closer to his lips. You hear him sigh as he grabs you by your hips with his big hand, squeezing the fabric of your sweatshirt.

"Shane" You whisper, moving towards his neck, leaving moist kisses in the way drawn by his veins, you can feel his heart beating and you think that today this is all that matters.

Warm flesh, beating hearts.

You and him.

Shane decides that right now he needs nothing more than to stay here. With you maybe the world will seem a little less awful.

[south-of-heaven]

Heya!

Love your work <3 Could you do a Damian Priest x fem!reader where they're trying to get pregnant. <3

Positive || Damian Priest x Reader

Summary: After trying to get pregnant for what feels like forever, you finally get lucky

You had been trying to get pregnant for what felt like an eternity. Each month brought disappointment, but you never lost hope. And finally, one day, you took the test, and there it was—the little plus sign that filled your heart with overwhelming joy. You were pregnant!

Ecstatic and unable to contain your excitement, you raced through the house, searching for Damian. You found him in the living room, watching TV, completely oblivious to the life-changing news you were about to share.

"DAMIAN!" you shouted, bursting with happiness.

Startled by your sudden outburst, Damian jumped up from the couch, his eyes wide with surprise. "What? What's wrong?" he asked, concern written all over his face.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, tears of happiness already streaming down your cheeks. "Nothing's wrong! Everything's perfect!" you exclaimed, unable to contain the news any longer.

Damian looked puzzled for a moment, but as he saw your tear-streaked smile, realization dawned on him. "Wait, are you...?" he stammered, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes! We're going to have a baby!" you announced, holding up the pregnancy test for him to see.

Damian's eyes widened, and his face broke into the brightest smile you had ever seen. He pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around in sheer joy.

"Oh my God, baby, this is incredible!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with elation. "I can't believe it! We're going to be parents!"

You nodded, tears of joy still flowing freely. "I know, I know! I can't believe it either!"

Damian set you down gently and cupped your face in his hands, gazing into your eyes with so much love and adoration. "You have made me the happiest man in the world," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you replied, your heart overflowing with love for this wonderful man who would soon become a father.

From that moment on, Damian was by your side every step of the way. He attended every doctor's appointment, held your hand during ultrasounds, and even read books on pregnancy and parenting to ensure he was fully prepared for the journey ahead.

As the months passed, your love for each other grew stronger, and you both eagerly anticipated the arrival of your little bundle of joy. Damian would often place his hand on your growing belly, feeling the kicks and movements of your precious baby.

Finally, the day arrived when you both welcomed your beautiful baby into the world. Damian was right there by your side, holding your hand and encouraging you every step of the way. And when you heard that first cry, your heart soared with indescribable happiness.

As Damian held your newborn in his arms, tears of joy streamed down his face. "We did it, babe," he whispered, looking at you with so much love and pride.

"Yes, we did," you replied, your heart bursting with love for your growing family.

And from that day forward, your life was filled with an abundance of love and happiness, all thanks to the little miracle that brought you and Damian even closer together. Parenthood was a journey you both embraced with open hearts, and together, you created a loving and nurturing home for your child—a home filled with the love of Damian and the joy of being a family

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hello, my dear friend! 😎

I hope you're having a wonderful day. I've come to fulfill my noble quest, as promised.

So, we've already had pregnant MC, which I adore and cherish, like all your works. What you do is amazing, and I hope you know that. You bring the kind of joy into our lives that I think does wonders for our weary souls. On top of that, you're one of the kindest souls I've ever met, and I'm lucky to have you in my life and be able to call you my friend. Seriously, you're a miracle and you make the world a better place.

But to my actual request. Could you please do headcanons about the M6 being pregnant? Seahorse dads are very much encouraged 👀 I often think about having children with Nadia, but I don't really like the idea of being pregnant myself (although our dear Countess does make me want to consider it every once in a while. The baby fever is very strong with her.) Plus, I'm certain there are other people like myself who prefer not to get pregnant or they simply can't for various reasons.

Thank you! Hugs to you and much love 🤗❤

Ps.: I'll kiss you if you do it (in a friendly but still very gay way)

The Arcana HCs: When M6 get pregnant

@theintrovertbean I'm here to collect my platonic but still very gay smooch, please :3 (In all seriousness though, I keep rereading your kind words and trying not to cry, that means so much to me. I'm so glad I get to call you my friend too!!)

-- CW for mpreg (obviously). for headcanon purposes, all members of the M6 want to have a child with MC and are happy with being the partner to be pregnant. whether this happens by natural means, depending on what reproductive system you headcanon them as having, or by *magic*, said baby is 50% your DNA and 50% theirs. --

Julian

Did the two of you take active steps to make it possible for him to carry your child? Yes. Did he think he would be fortunate enough for it work? No. Is he surprised now, even though it's planned? Yes

The most freaked out about what his body is in the process of doing. Again, this is something he agreed to and genuinely wants, but it's just so surreal to him that he keeps needing to rationalize it

His way of rationalizing things is to study them

This does not help his ever-present anxiety, especially when he has to limit his caffeine intake and his mood swings are even more intense than normal. He is going to bury himself in research

And then completely freak himself out with the assorted random weird facts, unhinged medical theories, and pregnancy horror stories that he encounters. Which isn't good for the baby

Speaking of, he keeps swinging wildly between being hyperaware of the tiny creature he's growing and completely forgetting about his state. Suddenly his self-care directly impacts someone else

Spending nine months with limited caffeine intake and 0 alcohol was actually very good for him. (even if it made him cranky at first)

The overall process was fairly smooth for him - he didn't have a lot of awful symptoms, and the only health scares were his own anxious "what if" spirals after reading horror stories before bed

Kept working the whole way through (though with considerably fewer hours so he could get more sleep), and generally did a great job whenever he wasn't thinking too hard about it all

Asra

They never actively envisioned this happening in their future, but when you brought up having kids in the first place they were already fairly open to the idea of being the one to carry the baby

There was definitely magic involved in the conception. He's too extra for there not to be (plus, a little boost never hurt anybody)

For such a normally chillaxed person, they did not take this decision lightly. Everything from planning, to conception, to preparing to raise a kid is full of intentionality

He wants to ensure that his kid gets a childhood that lasts as long as they need it to and a happy, safe environment to grow and explore. His baby fever wasn't intense but his nesting habits are

They get in several last crazy adventures before they start to feel the pregnancy and then spend the rest of it either sleeping, getting the baby's space ready, or eating the most unreal food combos

Seriously, you expected weird cravings, but considering how unusual his tastes already are you didn't think it could get much weirder. It can get so, so much weirder (he even managed to finally pry open that jar of kool-aid pickled garlic and put it in custard)

Between their parent's enthusiastic support and Nadia and Julian providing full medical backup, they are well looked after

Not to mention the pregnancy glow. He makes it look ethereal

They aren't fond of physical discomfort, though, and it makes them unusually broody and cuddly. Please give them snuggles

They spend weeks creating the most whimsical nursery

Nadia

She was actually the one to bring it up when she started talking about her expectations of marriage with you after proposing

For how strained her own relationship with her family is, she's more excited about starting one of her own with you than you expected. When you tell her that you want kids too, she's all for it

Sets a rule as soon as she tells her family that she won't be accepting more than two visitors at a time. Namar nearly revolts

Her pregnancy was not easy, at all. It was months before she could keep a full meal down, she was in near constant pain, and the fatigue was unrelenting. And she never let on in public, at all

Seriously, the only people who knew how hard it was were her close friends, trusted Palace people, and doctor. From the outside it was as if she couldn't feel it at all and life carried on as usual

The biggest noticeable difference (aside from her growing bump, which she somehow managed to make her draping clothes look even more regal with) was having Portia deliver speeches for her

Towards the final few months, it caught up to her enough that she couldn't be nearly as active as she used to. She turned one of her side chambers into her office and took all her meetings there

It also became evident how much the Palace staff loves their countess - the cooks worked tirelessly to find easy meals for her (and satiate every craving beyond the laws of culinary art)

Not to mention that the garden was immaculately kept

The amount of gifts for the baby took up several small closets

Muriel

He didn't bring it up. No, you brought it up, because of how out of hand his baby fever was getting. He'd gone from begrudgingly letting kids climb on him to actively offering to help watch them

Which turned into a lifestyle - he started spending all his free time carving toys so he could carry them in his pocket in case some shy toddler looked like they wanted one. You're running out of firewood

He offered to be the one to carry the baby, if you didn't want to

The psychological aspect of it is much harder for him than the physical. He knows his own body, he knows his strength and capacity for survival, and he's comfortable with what he's doing

But that is a whole other person-to-be he's growing, they deserve the best they can get, and he's not convinced he's the best

Is this ... selfish of him? Is this greedy? He knows he'll put everything he is into being a good parent, but what if someone else's best is better than his? MC, what are we doing??

These anxiety spirals happen frequently, either when he's gone too long sitting by himself or when the pregnancy insomnia makes it impossible for him to sleep the amount he normally likes to

On the plus side, the mood swings actually make it easier for him to express what he's feeling (and for you to know what's going on with him) so that you two can navigate it together

Asra is so excited to have a nibling that they stop by almost every day with baby gifts (and supplies from Nadia, once she knows)

He full body freezes every. single. time the baby moves

Portia

Oh, she's wanted to have a house full of kids since she was a kid in a house full of kids. She brought this up with you as soon as she started talking about a future together and she is so pumped

Literally nothing about the concept of it fazes her. She's helped with plenty of pregnancies and births, she's seen the good, the bad, and the ugly, and she is fully confident with you by her side

In her mind, this is the first of many (assuming all goes well, which she fully believes it will) so this is her chance to take things as they come and note them down for future reference

Keeps a daily journal with all her pregnancy observations, plus doctor's notes from weekly check-ups and plans for the baby

You didn't know pregnancy could make somebody more powerful but somehow she's done it. You expect it to catch up to her at some point and for her to take time off to rest, but she doesn't

The pregnancy glow is real and it is named Portia Devorak. You've never seen her hair so bouncy and full (shedding increases x10)

The biggest downside is that she can't stand the smell of cooking or baking anymore, which has long been one of her comfort activities. You'll have to manage meal prep (or partner with a chef)

Speaking of, half the Palace is asking for updates on a daily basis (which she happily provides). Nadia's showering her with more supplies and maternity leave than Portia wants to accept

Julian panicked about being the doctor until Mazelinka shoved him aside and took over as midwife. Portia's in skilled hands

Lucio

This was not planned. This was a happy accident. (Though Bob Ross never painted such a surprised, panicked, violent tree)

Whether because protection didn't work, or because Lucio saw a glowing orb in a weird dream and decided to mess with it while he was sleeping next to you, neither of you were remotely prepared

It doesn't really compute for him at first. The growing thing in his stomach is about as real as the tooth fairy - it's a concept that people tell him about before he goes back to daily life

It's a concept he's fiercely protective of and wants the best for

On a practical planning level, you two take advantage of his relatively easy first few months to take on a bunch of high paying jobs and revisit villages that seemed like a good spot to stay in

He's almost symptom-free until the bump really starts growing and his body starts adjusting for the extra weight. Thankfully by then you've found a place to settle down and reliable income

Lucio, understandably, becomes a complete diva once you do

He's pretty darn proud of what his body is doing, and he's relieved beyond words that he's having an easier time than what his mother described, but he does not like the way he looks

Or the aches and pains, or the breathlessness, or the way his whole body feels swollen and sore. (at least his hair looks nice)

You've never had such a hard time keeping him to his intended budget. He sees one (1) baby item and his wallet flies open

His sweet tooth gets 1000 times bigger than it already is

[onskepa]

Pamtseo Si > Lo'ak's route!

request: Can I get a Neteyam or Lo'ak x Human reader. Where he ends up spending an entire day at the lab with them. I just imagine them getting into a play fight and that messing us each other's hair and they end up doing different hairstyles on each other. 🥺Maybe you can also include a part where the reader shows Neteyam/Lo'ak her music playlist. Bruh- I just imagined Neteyam/Lo'ak hearing the lyrics of Kill bill and kinda staring at the reader wide eyed at the 'I just killed my ex part'. 😅

A month's of constant doing chores, intense training, doing whatever lo'ak has got to do just to have ONE day off. A day of freedom. A day in whatever he wants to do without having to be with his siblings or his parents nagging on him. NOPE! Once the sun rose up from the Pandora skies, he was quick to wake up first, collect a lot of fruits for his family to enjoy breakfast, freshen up, and dip out.

Making his way to the laboratory where many of the humans he comes to care about, live in. One human in particular is his lovely PamPam, well, she has a name but lo'ak enjoys teasing her by calling her PamPam. His cute yet loud girlfriend.

Lo'ak and Pampam started dating a little over 1 year, and so far, it is the peak of lo'ak life. He enjoys spending time with his human lover, every time he is with her, all the stress and worries just vanish. He can be his fun, goofy self when he is around her. It is always fun and never boring with his pampam.

Just the other day, Pampam said to come to the lab when he has a free day, cause she had something she wanted to show lo'ak. Feeling giddy, he speeds to the lab. So many things going on his mind, a flower she found? old recordings of some of the now dead science guys? some cool junk?

When lo'ak entered the lab, everyone greeted him, and he in return. Saying good morning as he passes by, he felt at ease and safe among the humans who were loyal to his people.

With big steps, he managed to reach pampam's room, which it was a decent size, full of trinkets and gifts lo'ak personally gave to his cute little lover. Speaking of, there she was laying on the floor playing with something small.

She looked up, her eyes sparkling in excitement, "lo'ak!" she shouts happily. Jumping from where she want, launched herself into lo'ak's arms, hugging tightly they both take a moment of silence to feel each other. "I have all day today just for you" lo'ak tells her, she gasps happily and brings him to sit on the floor with her on his lap.

"so what is it that you wanted to show me?" he asks. With an excited tone, pampam explains, "well norm was clearing out some of the back storage and found this!" show him a small rectangular black shiny...thing. It felt cold to the touch but something that can be easily broken. "It's a miracle there are no cracks this whole time" remarks pampam.

Lo'ak was exposed to limitless demon technology, heck, he can operate a computer all by himself, when he knows what he it doing. Knows how machines in the laboratory works, how touch screens and holograms work. And yet, demon technology still surprises him.

Curious he asks "what is it? how does it work?", pampam happily answers. "This is an old music player, can hold over a thousand songs! so many types of songs are in here! I don't know who it belonged to but this thing has a loooooooooot of music!".

Kind understanding, he leans in a bit more, "let me pick a song?" he asks, pampam nods and holds it out for him. He scrolls for a bit until one title catches his attention. Pressing it to play, the music blasts it out.

IN THE LAB!

Everyone was doing their thing until two high loud voices was heard in a hall. Everyone was wondering what the heck was going on, they got closer. Max and Norm taking the lead, they get closer to pampam's bedroom door to hear what the chaos is going on....only to hear Lo'ak and pampam singing the infamous song...

"Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!!!"

That will be all for this request! ngl I had fun with it! until next time!