#everyday magic verse

[storybounded]

I think Scott should be in one vampire show AT LEAST. He deserves it.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ SANTA BABY

❛ 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭. 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: On a Christmas Eve brimming with emotion, Luna and Jeonghan exchange gifts that bring tears, laughter, and a profound realization that in each other, they’ve already won the greatest gift of all.

warnings: short but sweet, cursing, slightly suggestive, crying, a concerning amount of fluff, fluff, fluff, fluffiness, tooth-rotting fluff, fluff, oh! and have i mentioned more fluff? if not, then… fluff, may make you feel single on Christmas, established relationship, simp!Jeonghan, what-are-you-willing-to-do!Jeonghan, what-are-you-willing-to-do!Luna, down bad!JeongNa, just over all good vibes

this is the one-shot of JeongNa’s Christmas Eve and the full story behind their recent instagram update: This Christmas, With Love which you can read before this or after, whenever you prefer!! Merry Christmas and happy holidays, my loves!!! 🎄🤍

╰ ౨ৎ ig update: this Christmas, with love

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna had always loved the holidays.

Ever since she could remember, the mere thought of winter filled her chest with an inexplicable warmth, despite the icy chill in the air. It wasn’t just the season’s weather— though she adored that, too. The cold was like a gentle bite against her skin, the kind that turned her cheeks rosy and made her breath visible in small clouds.

She loved bundling up in scarves and coats, the feeling of knit gloves on her hands as she clutched warm drinks in the bitter cold. There was something magical about stepping outside into a world transformed, the frost painting delicate patterns on windows, the snow crunching softly beneath her boots, and the sharp, invigorating air filling her lungs.

And then there was the snow itself.

Oh, how she loved the snow.

It blanketed the world in pristine white, silencing the chaos of everyday life and making everything feel softer, purer.

As a child, she would press her tiny hands against frosted windows and watch with wide-eyed wonder as snowflakes danced and twirled their way to the ground. Each flake was unique, her parents had told her, just like people, and she used to imagine the stories each one carried before landing to become part of the earth.

Even now, as an adult, snow still held the same allure.

It wasn’t just precipitation— it was possibility, the kind that made her heart flutter with childish delight.

Luna is a child at heart despite her cold exterior.

But what she loved most about winter wasn’t the cold or the snow. It was the way the world seemed to transform with it, the festivities that erupted in its wake. Streets adorned with twinkling lights, their golden and multicolored hues casting a glow that could rival the stars. Storefronts dressed in wreaths and garlands, windows painted with frost-like designs. Homes turned into miniature wonderlands, with trees laden with ornaments and stockings hanging by fireplaces.

The air carried the unmistakable scent of pine and cinnamon, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and roasted chestnuts. Every corner of the world seemed to hum with life, bursting with the kind of chaotic joy that only the holidays could bring.

As a child, Luna had thrived in that chaos.

She might have been an only child, but she never felt lonely during the holidays. Her family was large, sprawling with cousins of all ages, aunts and uncles who filled rooms with loud chatter and booming laughter.

The holidays were a cacophony of voices, a blur of brightly wrapped gifts, a feast that stretched across tables and seemed to last for hours. She loved every second of it— the giggles that echoed through the halls, the way wrapping paper was torn apart in a frenzy, revealing carefully chosen gifts that would elicit gasps of delight.

And oh, the food.

Plates upon plates of lovingly prepared dishes, the kind that could make anyone feel at home with just one bite.

For Luna, those gatherings were the essence of the holidays: love, warmth, and a little bit of chaos, all wrapped together in a bow.

Even now, as an adult, not much had changed.

Luna still carried that same love for the holidays in her heart. She’d grown older, of course, and her world had expanded beyond her childhood home. She had met people who changed her life, built friendships that felt more like family.

The members of her group had become just as much a part of her holidays as her own blood relatives.

Each year, no matter how busy their own schedules or how far apart they might be, they always made time for each other. Even if they spent the holidays with their own families, they exchanged gifts and heartfelt messages, sometimes sneaking moments to celebrate together.

A quiet dinner, a surprise visit, or even a late-night video call— those small gestures kept them connected.

Luna cherished it all.

To her, the holidays weren’t just about one’s own traditions but about sharing the joy with others, whether that meant her childhood family or the family she had found along the way.

The truth was, Luna loved everything about this season.

The lights, the snow, the chaos, and the spirit of giving. It reminded her of who she was— someone who poured herself wholeheartedly into the people she loved. And in return, the holidays gave her a kind of magic she carried with her long after the season had passed.

This year’s Christmas, their house glowed with warmth, its halls bedecked in festive splendor that seemed to reflect the happiness within its walls. Twinkling fairy lights hung across doorways, their soft golden glow matching the gentle flicker of candles on the dining table.

The Christmas tree stood in the corner, a towering figure dressed in silver and gold ornaments, its star perched proudly at the top. Beneath it, an array of carefully wrapped gifts spilled out in every direction, their ribbons tied with care. The air was filled with the mingling scents of pine, cinnamon, and the rich aroma of dinner wafting in from the kitchen.

It was, without a doubt, the perfect backdrop for a Christmas celebration, one that carried an extra layer of excitement this year.

For the first time in their five years of celebrating Christmas together, Jeonghan and Luna were doing so as an engaged couple.

Neither of them had spoken it aloud, but there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, something electric and unspoken that urged them both to make this year unforgettable.

It wasn’t about the grandeur of the decorations or the extravagance of the gifts; it was about the meaning behind it all— the deepening of their bond, the blending of their families, and the joy of creating memories they would carry with them forever.

Jeonghan’s parents and his younger sister had arrived first, greeted at the door by Luna, who immediately pulled them into warm hugs, her smile brighter than the Christmas lights around her. Her parents followed soon after, carrying platters of food they insisted on contributing despite Luna’s protests that everything was already taken care of.

It wasn’t long before the house was alive with chatter and laughter, the kind that only family could bring.

Dinner was a feast fit for royalty, with dishes spread across the table in a kaleidoscope of colors and aromas.

At the center was a steaming pot of galbi-jjim, tender braised short ribs simmered in a rich soy-based sauce, its sweetness heightened by chestnuts, jujubes, and carrots. Bowls of velvety tteokguk, the rice cake soup, plates of crispy jeon, golden pancakes made from savory ingredients like seafood and kimchi, were stacked high, inviting everyone to share. A platter of hobakjuk, creamy pumpkin porridge, added a touch of sweetness, balanced by the fiery kick of kimchi. For dessert, there were delicacies like yakgwa, honey-soaked cookies, and soft baesuk, steamed pears infused with cinnamon and pine nuts.

The feast, a harmonious blend of flavors, mirrored the joy and togetherness of the season, with every bite evoking the warmth of home. Luna sat beside Jeonghan, their hands occasionally brushing as they passed dishes or poured drinks, a small, private smile exchanged between them every time.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, stories weaving in and out as glasses clinked and plates were filled.

The laughter continued, each story sparking another until the room felt as though it might burst with joy.

Luna’s father shared a story about her childhood Christmas antics, like the year she tried to stay up all night to catch Santa in the act, only to fall asleep under the tree. Jeonghan’s mother chimed in with tales of his childhood mischief, and soon the table was a tapestry of memories, old and new, weaving their two families closer together.

When the meal finally wound down, it was time for the gifts. They gathered around the tree, the soft glow of the lights casting a warm hue over their faces. Each person took turns handing out their presents, the room filling with exclamations of gratitude and delight as wrapping paper was torn away.

Luna watched the exchange with her heart swelling, her gaze drifting to Jeonghan. In that moment, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by gratitude— for him, for their families, for the life they were building together.

Finally, as the night grew late, it was time to say goodbye.

Jeonghan’s parents hugged Luna tightly, thanking her for hosting such a wonderful evening, and her parents did the same with Jeonghan. Promises to meet again soon were exchanged as coats were retrieved and farewells were made.

Soon, the house was quiet again, the echoes of laughter lingering in its walls as Jeonghan and Luna closed the door behind their families.

For the first time that evening, they were alone.

As the door clicked shut behind the last of their family, Luna instinctively turned toward the dining table, her hands already reaching for the nearest stack of plates.

The remnants of their joyous evening lay scattered across the table— half-empty wine glasses, crumpled napkins, and the last crumbs of their feast. The soft hum of holiday music played faintly in the background, blending seamlessly with the warmth still lingering in the air.

It was the kind of mess that didn’t bother her, really.

To Luna, it was evidence of a night well spent, but her natural instinct to tidy up took over before she even thought twice. She moved efficiently, stacking plates and gathering utensils, her steps light but purposeful.

Jeonghan, still leaning against the wall near the tree, watched her with an affectionate smile. He hadn’t moved yet, his arms folded loosely as he admired the way she seemed to glide through the room. There was something endlessly endearing about Luna when she was in her element, her focus so pure and unassuming.

But tonight, Jeonghan wasn’t about to let her get too far into her routine.

As she reached for another plate, she felt familiar arms slide around her waist from behind. The sudden warmth of his touch startled her for only a second before she leaned into him, already accustomed to his affectionate interruptions.

Jeonghan’s chin came to rest on her shoulder, his soft hair tickling the side of her face as he nuzzled her cheek.

“Leave it,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, punctuated with a kiss to the side of her head.

Luna let out a small laugh, but her hands continued their work, stacking another plate onto the growing pile in front of her. “We’ve been over this, Han. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, tightening his hold on her waist as if to physically stop her. “But why do we have to start at all right now? It’s Christmas,” he crooned, his tone lilting and playful, as though he were coaxing a stubborn child. “Can’t we just… enjoy the night? You know, us?”

Luna tried to twist her head to look at him, but he pressed another kiss to her temple, effectively stopping her. “I am enjoying the night,” she countered, her tone firm but softened by the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll enjoy it even more when our house isn’t a mess.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound vibrating against her back. “You’re impossible,” he whispered, brushing his lips lightly against her ear. “But you love me, right?”

“I do,” Luna admitted without hesitation, her voice quieter now, though her hands still busied themselves with gathering utensils. “Which is why you should help me instead of distracting me.”

“I’ll help,” he promised, his voice taking on a sing-song quality as his hands shifted to her hips, gently swaying her from side to side. “Later.”

“Later?” she echoed, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as a giggle escaped her lips.

“Yes, later,” he confirmed, his tone overly patient as though explaining something to a small child. “Right now, I’m more excited to give you your gift. And to see what you got me. Isn’t that more fun than cleaning, Nana-ya?”

Luna paused at that, finally setting the plates down with a sigh. She turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, his expression smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“You’re so persistent,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him even as her resolve wavered.

“And you’re so stubborn,” Jeonghan countered, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Which is why we’re perfect for each other and which is why I love you. But come on, Jiyeonie. Just for tonight. Let’s not worry about the mess. I’ll clean every single plate tomorrow if it makes you feel better.”

Luna sighed again, this time louder, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine,” she relented, her voice tinged with mock exasperation. “But if the house is still messy tomorrow, I’m holding you accountable.”

“Deal,” Jeonghan said instantly, his grin widening as he released her waist only to grab her hand instead. He began leading her away from the table, his excitement palpable. “Now come on. I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

As Luna allowed herself to be guided, she couldn’t help but reflect on how this had become their tradition.

Just as they had started spending the holidays with both their families after they began dating five years ago, this part of the night— just the two of them exchanging gifts— had become sacred.

Neither of them could quite pinpoint when or why it started.

Maybe it was the intimacy of it, the way it felt like a quiet pocket of time reserved solely for them amidst the chaos of the holidays. Or maybe it was just easier to be vulnerable when there were no prying eyes, no pressure to perform or impress.

Whatever the reason, they had come to cherish this moment, when it was just them, raw and unfiltered, sharing their hearts in a way they couldn’t with anyone else.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan as he guided her to the couch, his fingers laced with hers. There was a spark of boyish excitement in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile.

No matter how many years passed, no matter how much their lives changed, this moment— just the two of them— felt like home.

Jeonghan led Luna to the couch with a confident stride, his fingers still laced with hers. As they sat down, he shifted slightly to face her, leaning against the cushions with a teasing glint in his eyes.

It was a look Luna knew all too well— mischievous and self-assured, like he was holding onto a secret so tantalizing that he could barely contain himself.

She raised a brow at him, already sensing he was up to something, though she couldn’t quite figure out what. “What?” she asked, drawing the word out, her tone skeptical but laced with curiosity.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his grin growing wider. “Nothing,” he replied, his voice light and sing-song, which of course only made her more suspicious.

“You’re such a bad liar. Terrible actually,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him.

He chuckled, leaning closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “Okay, fine,” he said, lowering his voice to a mock whisper, as though he were letting her in on a great secret. “I just know something you don’t.”

Luna blinked at him, deadpan. “Oh, here we go.”

Jeonghan leaned back, feigning shock. “What? You don’t even know what I’m about to say!”

“I don’t have to. It’s you. You always think you know everything,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest, though she couldn’t hide the small smile playing at her lips.

“That’s because I do know everything… especially about you,” he declared, puffing his chest out dramatically. He nudged her side gently with his elbow, his grin turning smug. “For example, I know that my gift for you is the best gift in the entire universe.”

Luna scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Jeonghan affirmed, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. He leaned in again, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’m so confident, in fact, that I’ll bet my entire Christmas stocking you’re going to cry.”

“Cry?” Luna echoed, her brows lifting in disbelief.

“Cry,” he repeated firmly, his voice dropping into a soft, almost teasing coo. “Big, pouring, emotional tears. You’re going to cry so hard that you’ll need, like, three tissues. Minimum.”

Luna’s laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, and she shook her head at him. “Three tissues, huh?”

“Maybe four,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “You’re a crier. I know these things.”

“I am not a crier,” she protested, giving him a light shove, though she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

“Oh, you are, my baby,” Jeonghan said, catching her hand before she could pull it back. He interlaced their fingers, his thumb grazing her knuckles in a way that was almost distracting. “Remember last month when we watched that random commercial about a dog? You cried for, like, twenty minutes.”

“That was different!” Luna argued, her voice rising slightly as she tried to defend herself. “The dog was lost and then found his way home. That’s emotional, Hannie.”

Jeonghan just laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Exactly my point. If a dog commercial can make you cry, my gift is going to ruin you.”

“Bold words,” Luna said, narrowing her eyes at him again, though her tone was light. “But you know what? If you’re so sure your gift is the best, I hope you’re ready to eat your words. Because I know my gift is going to make you cry.”

Jeonghan’s brows shot up, his expression one of exaggerated surprise. “Oh? You think so?”

“I don’t think so. I know so,” Luna replied, her voice turning smug as she tilted her chin up. “You’re going to cry harder than me. One hundred percent.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned closer again, his eyes sparkling. “You’re cute when you’re cocky, you know that, my pretty moon?”

“And you’re insufferable,” she shot back, but her tone was fond, her lips twitching into another smile.

“Mm, but you love me,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as he stared at her with that soft, adoring look that always left her feeling like her heart was a little too big for her chest.

“Unfortunately,” she said, pretending to sound exasperated, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her.

Jeonghan suddenly poked her side, making her jump and let out a small squeak. “Stop that!” she protested, swatting at his hand, but he only grinned wider, clearly delighted by her reaction.

“You’re too confident, Miss Luna,” he said, poking her again and laughing when she squirmed. “We can’t have that.”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” she whined, her voice a mix of annoyance and laughter. “If you keep that up, I swear—”

“What? You’ll cry before I even give you your gift?” he teased, poking her one last time before grabbing her hands to stop her from retaliating.

Luna huffed, glaring at him, but there was no real heat in her gaze. “You’re such a child.”

“And you love that about me,” he countered, his voice softening as his teasing grin shifted into a gentle smile. He brought her hands up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “Admit it.”

“Maybe a little,” she muttered, though the way her cheeks flushed gave her away.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened as he gazed at her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them charged with something quiet but undeniable. Luna looked away first, clearing her throat as she tried to regain her composure.

“Anyway,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, “I guess we’ll just have to see who cries first.”

“Oh, we will,” Jeonghan said, his tone full of certainty as he leaned back slightly, still holding her hands. “And when you do, I’ll be ready with the tissues. Four of them.”

Luna laughed again, shaking her head at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his voice so soft and genuine that it caught her off guard. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, she felt like the rest of the world had melted away.

This was their Christmas tradition, and in moments like these, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. “Alright, Nana-ya,” he teased, his voice light and coaxing. “Why don’t we start with your gift for me? Not because I’m dying to see what you got me or anything— though I totally am— but because we need to save the best for last, which is obviously my gift for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes at his cockiness but couldn’t fight the soft smile tugging at her lips. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes softening as her gaze lingered on his face.

His smile was mischievous, his hair slightly tousled from leaning against the cushions, and his confidence was absolutely shining through. And yet, there was an undeniable tenderness in his features that made her heart skip a beat.

After a few seconds, Luna shook her head, giving in with a small laugh. “Fine,” she murmured. “We’ll start with mine.”

Jeonghan grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Knew you’d see things my way.”

Luna reached for her phone on the table, unlocking it swiftly and beginning to type with purpose. Her fingers flew over the screen, her brow furrowed in concentration as Jeonghan watched her with growing curiosity. His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

“Are you just ordering my gift right now?” he teased, his voice light but probing. “Don’t tell me you forgot to buy me something.”

Luna didn’t even look up as she smirked. “Nope. In fact, I’ve been working on your gift all year.”

That made Jeonghan pause. His brows shot up, and his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but before he could, the familiar chime of a notification sounded from his phone. He looked down at it, then back up at her, his expression skeptical yet intrigued.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding her gaze.

Luna only smiled as she locked her phone and placed it aside. “Go ahead,” she said, leaning back against the couch with an air of playful mystery. “Open it.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching with a faint smirk. “Did you wire me your entire bank account? Because that will actually make me cry, baby.”

Luna let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Just check your phone, Hannie.”

Still watching her closely, Jeonghan picked up his phone and unlocked it. His thumb hovered over the screen before he noticed the Instagram notification at the top.

It was a post from Luna.

His curiosity peaked, and he clicked on it, his brows knitting together in confusion before they shot up in surprise.

It was a new post on Luna’s feed— a picture of her… it was an album cover and the track list which he has not seen before and her caption immediately caught his attention. His eyes darted across the text as he read it under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper:

“‘Not all gifts come wrapped; some are sung… here’s my gift wrapped in melodies! A little something for the holidays. Five songs for someone who makes my world brighter. Maybe they’ll make yours a little warmer too! For the one who inspired it and for all of you… Santa’s biggest secret this year? Is that I made this about you, thinking of you, inspired by you, just for you, @/jeonghaniyoo_n, because Santa doesn’t know you like I do, my angel boy…. this Christmas, with love… out now!!’”

Jeonghan’s voice faltered at the end, and he fell silent, staring at the screen as the weight of her words sunk in.

Luna watched him closely, her soft smile widening as she took in his reaction.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak— he was utterly frozen, his thumb still hovering over the caption.

“You wanna listen to it, my love?” she asked softly, her voice warm and teasing.

Jeonghan didn’t respond at first.

He inhaled deeply, blinking as if trying to process everything, before letting out a shaky breath. “Give me a second,” he murmured, his voice unusually firm. He looked up at her then, his face blank, but the deadpan humor in his tone was unmistakable. “I just need to wrap my head around the fact that you’re this obsessed with me.”

Luna burst into laughter, doubling over as her shoulders shook with mirth. “Obsessed with you?” she echoed, grinning at him. “You think I wrote an entire album because I’m obsessed with you?”

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze sharp yet amused. “Did you not? Five songs, Nana-ya. Five. All about me. That screams obsession, babe.”

“And here I thought you’d be flattered,” she teased, sitting up straighter and shrugging nonchalantly. “Guess I’ll just take it back.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jeonghan shot back, his grin returning as he leaned closer to her. “You’re not taking anything back. In fact, I’m going to make you admit it.”

“Admit what?” she asked, her eyes twinkling as she matched his energy.

“That you’re absolutely head over heels for me,” he said, his tone both smug and playful. “I mean, I already knew that, but now the whole world does too.”

Luna laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re in love with me,” Jeonghan countered, his voice dropping into a softer, more teasing tone as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Deeply, madly, irrevocably.”

“Maybe,” Luna admitted with a small shrug, her smile turning coy. “But you’re not much better, Hannie. I bet you’re going to cry when you listen to those songs.”

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice full of mock exasperation. “First, you ruin me with that caption, and now this? I swear, Bae Jiyeon, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Luna couldn’t stop smiling as she leaned closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. “But what a way to go, huh?” she teased softly, her voice warm and full of love.

Jeonghan let out a low laugh, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What a way to go.”

They sat like that for a few moments longer, Jeonghan’s eyes still fixed on his phone screen, until Luna nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “Come on,” she coaxed, her voice soft and encouraging. “Let’s listen to it together.”

His gaze shifted from his phone to her, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You’re really not going to let me mentally prepare for this, are you?”

Luna leaned in, her eyes bright with mischief. “Nope. I’ve been waiting for this moment all year, Hannie. Indulge me, please.”

Jeonghan let out a mock sigh, his fingers moving to unlock his phone. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, but the way his smile deepened betrayed the fondness behind his words.

“And you love it,” Luna teased, inching closer to him on the couch as he navigated to her album.

“Unfortunately,” he replied, his voice dripping with fake exasperation. He pulled up the album, the tracklist appearing on his screen. “Alright, your majesty, let’s see what all this fuss is about.”

Before Jeonghan could press play, Luna crawled closer to him, her movements unhurried and natural, until she ended up seated snugly on his lap. Jeonghan didn’t even flinch— his arms automatically moved to encircle her, caging her in as he adjusted the phone in front of them so they could both see the screen. Luna leaned her head against his chest, her cheek pressing against his sweater, the scent of his cologne familiar and comforting.

“Comfortable?” Jeonghan asked, his voice low and teasing, but his fingers rested lightly against her back, tracing small, lazy patterns.

“Mmhm,” Luna mumbled, her eyes already fluttering shut. She was exhausted from the day, but there was nowhere else she’d rather be than here, wrapped up in his arms.

Jeonghan chuckled softly. “Alright, let’s do this,” he murmured, pressing play on the first track.

The first song began to play, and the room was filled with Luna’s voice, sweet and melodic, carrying lyrics that spoke of warmth, love, and quiet devotion.

Jeonghan was quiet as he listened, his focus entirely on the music. Luna, on the other hand, let herself sink deeper into her position, the memories of writing each song flooding her mind. She remembered the late nights spent scribbling down lyrics, the moments of inspiration when Jeonghan would unknowingly say or do something that would spark a melody in her head.

As the second, third, and fourth songs played, Luna remained still, her head nestled against Jeonghan’s chest. He hadn’t said a word, but she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her cheek. Every now and then, his hand would tighten slightly on her back, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.

It wasn’t until the fifth and final song ended that Luna heard it— a soft sniffle. Her eyes snapped open, and she tilted her head up to look at Jeonghan.

“Hannie?” she asked softly, her brow furrowing when she saw the glassy sheen in his eyes.

Jeonghan immediately looked away, tilting his head to the side as if that would somehow hide the tears threatening to fall. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice slightly strained.

Luna blinked, her lips parting in surprise. “Oh my gosh, are you really crying?” she asked, her tone somewhere between teasing and genuine concern.

“No,” Jeonghan said quickly, his voice unconvincing as he brought a hand up to rub at his eye.

Luna sat up straighter, turning fully to straddle his lap as she cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her. “You’re actually crying,” she said, her voice softer now as she took in the sight of him.

Jeonghan rarely cried— she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him like this— and it made her chest tighten in both amusement and tenderness.

“I’m not crying,” Jeonghan insisted, though his voice wavered, betraying him.

Luna bit her lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “Hannie,” she said, her thumbs brushing gently across his cheeks. “Are you really crying because of my songs?”

Jeonghan exhaled a shaky breath, his lips twitching upward in a weak smile. “What can I say? You’ve turned me into a sap,” he said, his tone light but his eyes betraying the depth of his emotions. “Also, correction, songs about me, Jiyeonie. Who does that? You’re literally obsessed with me.”

Luna couldn’t hold back her laughter this time. “I thought we already established that,” she teased, leaning in closer.

Jeonghan groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “You’re not helping,” he said, his voice muffled. “You’re trying to kill me, I swear.”

Luna giggled, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I mean, if this is how you’re going to react, maybe I should write five more songs next year.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jeonghan said, lifting his head to glare at her, though the corners of his mouth were still curved upward.

They both dissolved into laughter, the tension in the room melting away. As Luna’s giggles subsided, she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for letting me embarrass you,” she said softly, her voice full of affection.

Jeonghan wrapped his arms more securely around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. “Thank you for loving me enough to embarrass myself,” he murmured, his tone earnest now.

Luna smiled, her hands cupping his face once more as she wiped away the remnants of his tears. “You’re welcome, my love,” she whispered.

Jeonghan leaned back slightly, his mischievous grin returning. “You know,” he began, his voice teasing, “if you ever decide to make a second album about me, at least title it something dramatic. Like ‘The Yoon Jeonghan Effect.’”

Luna groaned, dropping her head to his shoulder as laughter bubbled out of her. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice muffled against his sweater.

“And you love it,” he shot back, his arms tightening around her.

“Unfortunately,” she replied, echoing his earlier words.

Jeonghan's fingers trailed softly over the curve of Luna's back, his touch featherlight yet deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine. His hand lingered for a moment at the small of her back before gliding upward, his movements unhurried. When his hand reached the nape of her neck, he gently cupped it, his thumb brushing tenderly against her skin. With a gentle tug, he coaxed her to tilt her head up, making her meet his gaze.

Luna's lashes fluttered as her eyes rose to meet his, her lips parting slightly at the intensity of his expression.

Jeonghan was looking down at her like she was the only person in the world, his eyes drinking in every detail of her face as though committing it to memory. His soft smile carried a reverence that made Luna's heart stumble in her chest.

Without breaking eye contact, Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back just enough to whisper, "I love you."

Luna's lips curved into a small, content smile, her eyes falling shut as Jeonghan moved to place a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"I love you," he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper, the tenderness in it making her chest ache in the best way.

The next kiss landed on her right eyelid, prompting her to close her eyes

instinctively. "I love you," he said softly, the words falling like a prayer.

Then, he kissed her left eyelid, his thumb brushing along her jaw. "I love you."

Luna felt her cheeks grow warm under the gentle onslaught of his affection, a soft giggle escaping her lips as he kissed her right cheek next.

"I love you," he murmured, his smile growing wider at the sound of her laughter.

He kissed her left cheek next, lingering for a heartbeat longer. "I love you."

Luna's giggle turned into a soft hum as she kept her eyes closed, her smile unbroken.

She felt entirely at his mercy, her body melting into his touch as though he was the sun and she was a flower basking in his warmth.

When Jeonghan finally stopped, his hands cradled her face, his thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks. He studied her face for a moment, his gaze sweeping over every feature as though searching for something he hadn't yet memorized.

"Open your eyes," he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a secret meant only for her.

Luna slowly opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken emotion as they stared at each other, their faces mere inches apart.

"I love you," Jeonghan whispered again, his voice cracking just slightly, his sincerity cutting through the air like a blade.

“I love you,” Luna's breath hitched as his eyes flickered to her lips. He licked his own, almost subconsciously, and she caught the faintest movement of his throat as he swallowed.

Then, with painstaking slowness, he leaned in.

His lips met hers softly at first, like the brush of a butterfly's wings. Luna's breath caught as her senses were overwhelmed by him-the taste of wine lingering faintly on his lips, the gentle pressure, the warmth of his hands framing her face. Jeonghan moved with deliberate care, his lips molding against hers in a way that felt both tender and possessive.

As the kiss deepened, he tilted his head slightly, his movements unhurried but assured. His lips parted just enough for his tongue to trace the seam of hers, coaxing a soft sigh from her. Luna responded instinctively, her hands curling into the fabric of his sweater as she leaned into him.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity and a single moment all at once.

When Jeonghan finally pulled away, it was only by a fraction of an inch. Luna's lips chased after his on instinct, a soft whine escaping her as her eyes remained closed.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Jeonghan teased, his voice low and laced with amusement.

Luna huffed, her cheeks flushed as she opened her eyes to glare at him half-heartedly. "You stopped, Han," she mumbled, her lips curving into a pout.

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands still cradling her face. "I just needed a second to remind myself how lucky I am," he murmured before leaning in again.

This time, the kiss was hungrier, more urgent. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that made Luna's heart race, his hands sliding down to rest on her waist as he pulled her closer. Luna's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss further.

Jeonghan groaned softly against her lips, the sound sending a thrill down her spine.

Their movements were synchronized, a perfect give and take, their kisses growing slower but no less intense as they savored each other.

When Luna finally pulled away, her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her forehead rested against Jeonghan's, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "I love you too, so much."

Jeonghan's eyes fluttered open, his gaze searching hers. "You're going to be the death of me," he repeated, though his smile betrayed the lack of real complaint in his words.

"Good," Luna teased, her fingers playing with the strands of his hair as she leaned in to peck his lips lightly.

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands sliding up to rest on her back. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me forever," she replied, her voice soft but unwavering.

Jeonghan's smile softened, his arms tightening around her as he pulled her into a hug. "That's the plan," he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

Luna smiled against his shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck. "You're stuck with me, you know."

"Good," Jeonghan said, echoing her earlier words. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes filled with a love so profound it made Luna's heart ache.

Jeonghan’s fingers gently combed through Luna’s hair, his touch soft and soothing. “Do you want to see your gift, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice low and warm as he looked down at her.

Luna hummed, her cheek pressed against his chest, her arms still loosely draped around his neck. “I completely forgot about that,” she admitted, her voice muffled by his sweater.

Jeonghan chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “You shouldn’t. My gift for you is just as unforgettable as your gift to me.” His lips curved into a teasing smile, his tone lighthearted but with a hint of excitement.

He gently shifted her off his lap, moving to stand. The moment his warmth left her, Luna whined softly, her arms reaching out as if to pull him back. “Don’t go,” she pouted, her lips tugging downward as her eyes followed him.

Jeonghan bent down, his hands cupping her cheeks as he cooed, “Baby, I’ll be quick. I promise.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her lower lip jutting out in defiance. “You just got me all comfy, and now you’re leaving?”

His laugh was soft, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m not leaving, my moon. Just going to get your gift.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, his voice a soothing murmur. “Stay right here, okay? I’ll be back in no time.”

Luna huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the couch. “Fine. But you better not take forever.”

“I won’t,” he assured her, his tone laced with amusement. Jeonghan straightened up and started toward the hallway but stopped midway, glancing back with a mischievous smile. “And don’t even think about snooping. That’s off-limits.”

Luna raised a brow, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jeonghan gave her a knowing look before disappearing down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

Left alone, Luna sighed, letting her head fall back against the couch. Her gaze flickered to the ceiling as her curiosity began to bubble up. What could he have been keeping in the guest room all this time? Jeonghan had been oddly secretive about it since this morning, even telling her earlier that day not to peek inside.

Her mind wandered as she traced idle patterns on the armrest of the couch. Despite her momentary impatience, she couldn’t suppress the warm feeling that spread through her at the thought of Jeonghan planning something special just for her.

Minutes felt like hours as she waited, her ears straining to pick up any sound from the other room. “What’s taking him so long?” she muttered under her breath, her curiosity mounting with each passing second.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint creak of the guest bedroom door, followed by the sound of Jeonghan’s footsteps approaching. Luna sat up straighter, her eyes fixed on the hallway with a mixture of anticipation and excitement.

“Finally,” she said as he appeared, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I thought you were never coming back.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands behind his back. “Patience, Nana-ya. Good things take time.”

Luna narrowed her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the growing smile on her lips. Whatever was hidden behind him, she could tell by the look on his face that it meant a lot to him.

And that made her heart flutter.

Jeonghan walked into the living room, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, his hands tucked behind his back to keep the gift hidden from view. Luna, sitting cross-legged on the couch, eyed him suspiciously. Her curiosity had been bubbling since he’d disappeared down the hallway.

Jeonghan took a seat next to her, still holding the gift behind him, and leaned back casually as if he weren’t keeping her in suspense. “Hmm,” he mused aloud, glancing at her sideways with a mischievous smirk. “You know… maybe it’s too early to give you this gift. It’s still Christmas Eve, after all. Maybe we should wait until Christmas morning.”

Luna immediately narrowed her eyes. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she said warningly, her tone dripping with suspicion. “Don’t even think about it.”

Feigning innocence, Jeonghan rose from the couch, making a show of stepping backward as if he were about to leave. “What? I’m just saying, it might be more meaningful tomorrow. You can wait, right, baby?”

“Try walking backwards all the way back there. I dare you,” Luna challenged, crossing her arms as a smirk tugged at her lips.

Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh, his shoulders shaking. “You’re persuasive,” he said, moving to sit back down beside her. “Fine, fine. You win. But…” He turned to face her fully, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have to close your eyes for me first, alright?. No peeking.”

Luna tilted her head, eyeing him suspiciously for a moment before sighing. “Fine,” she relented. She was, after all, a good girl— his good girl. Obediently, she closed her eyes, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she waited.

Jeonghan, still grinning like a mischievous child, leaned forward and placed a quick, soft kiss on her lips. “There you go,” he said teasingly. “That’s your gift. Merry Christmas!”

Luna’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at him, unimpressed. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and mock annoyance. “If the kiss is the gift, at least make sure it’s a proper one and not something you’d give back in kindergarten with your crush.”

Jeonghan’s grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “A kindergarten kiss?” he repeated, raising a brow. “Are you sure? Do you want to talk about our kiss earlier? That was definitely not childish. And trust me, you don’t want to challenge me on this.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious murmur. “If I show you what a real kiss looks like again, we might end up with another gift in nine months.”

Luna’s eyes widened, her cheeks turning bright red as his words sank in. “Ya!” she exclaimed, smacking his chest in embarrassment.

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, removing one hand from his back and placing a hand over his chest where she’d hit him, though his lips curled into an annoying smirk. “What?” he said, laughing. “I’m just saying the truth.”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” Luna said again, her voice high-pitched with exasperation. “Just give me my gift already!”

Jeonghan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “But you have to close your eyes again. For real this time.”

Luna shot him a pointed glare but reluctantly complied, her eyes fluttering shut as she huffed in irritation. “If this is another trick, I’m going to—”

“It’s not,” Jeonghan interrupted, his voice soft with reassurance. “I promise.”

Luna took a deep breath, waiting patiently, her hands resting on her knees. She couldn’t see Jeonghan’s face, but if she could, she’d know he was grinning ear to ear as he stared at her.

Her trust in him, the way she immediately complied with his request, made his heart swell.

A few seconds passed before she felt it— a soft weight settling in her lap.

Confusion flickered across her features as her hands instinctively moved to touch it. Her fingers brushed against something warm, something soft. Then, it shifted slightly, its small, fluffy body wriggling under her touch.

Her breath caught as her fingers trailed upward, feeling long, velvety ears that flopped over in her hands. Luna froze, her mind piecing it together even before she opened her eyes.

“Hannie…” she whispered, her voice shaky with surprise. But she kept her eyes shut, savoring the moment.

She didn’t need to see to know what— or rather, who— was now sitting on her lap.

The soft, warm sniff of a tiny nose brushed against Luna’s fingers, and her entire body tensed as if holding back a flood of emotion.

Without opening her eyes, her head dropped forward, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. Her shoulders began to shake, silent tremors overtaking her before a quiet sob escaped her lips. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unstoppable, as she broke down completely.

Jeonghan, still seated beside her, watched her with a soft smile, his chest tightening at her overwhelmed reaction but also brimming with quiet amusement. “Open your eyes, angel,” he coaxed gently, his voice laced with a low chuckle.

Luna obeyed without hesitation, lifting her head and blinking her watery eyes open.

The world came into focus, and there it was— a small tan bunny, its tiny paws resting on her lap, its soft fur a shade of warm beige that seemed to glow in the Christmas lights. Its long, floppy ears trailed down as it gazed up at her with curious, shiny eyes.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and the tears that had already been falling came down in an even heavier torrent. She covered her face with both hands, her whine muffled but still audible. “No, no, no,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “Han… no… are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

Jeonghan’s chuckle grew into a laugh, low and affectionate. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone cry harder over a bunny,” he teased, leaning closer to her and brushing his fingers gently across her trembling shoulder. “Hey, hey, breathe, Jiyeon-ah. Come on, pretty girl. It’s okay.”

Luna peeked at him from between her fingers, her cheeks wet and her lips quivering. The bunny remained in her lap, still and sweet, its nose twitching as if trying to figure out its new owner.

From as long as Luna could remember, she’d been obsessed with animals. Dogs, cats, birds— she loved them all. But bunnies had always held a special place in her heart. Maybe it was their soft, round bodies that felt like clouds come to life. Or the way their long ears drooped behind them as they moved. Or perhaps it was their fluffy tails, little pom-poms that bounced with every hop. Whatever it was, bunnies had enchanted her from the time she was a child.

When her fans started calling her a bunny, it only cemented her affection for the creatures. She remembered how her heart had swelled with joy the first time she saw the nickname trending online.

It felt like a perfect reflection of her— small, sweet, and sometimes a little shy.

But despite her deep love for them, she’d never had one of her own. Her mother had been allergic to fur, and that had meant no pets— no dogs, no cats, and definitely no bunnies. As a child, she’d begged and pleaded, but it was never possible and she understood that.

When she grew older and moved to Seoul to be an idol and finally moved into her own space, the thought of getting a bunny crossed her mind immediately. She’d even researched breeds and names, imagining what it would be like to finally hold one. But her busy idol life had always interfered. There was no time to properly care for a pet, and eventually, the dream of owning one slipped into the background.

It became something she daydreamed about but never acted on.

And now, Jeonghan had brought that dream to life.

“You didn’t…” Luna choked out, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, her hands trembling as they hovered over the bunny’s soft fur.

Jeonghan reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. “I did,” he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a lullaby. “And you’re going to cry yourself into dehydration if you don’t stop, angel. Breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths.”

Luna tried, hiccupping as she inhaled shakily. But the sight of the bunny in her lap sent another wave of emotion crashing over her. Jeonghan chuckled again, pulling her closer.

Carefully, he shifted her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her securely. Luna let herself collapse against him, her face buried in his chest as the bunny hopped across her lap to nestle against her stomach. She reached down, her hands finally finding the courage to scoop the bunny up. Its fur was softer than she’d imagined, its tiny body warm and alive against her palms.

“Is it really mine?” she whispered, her voice barely audible through her sobs. Her wide eyes searched Jeonghan’s face, her lips pouting like a child seeking reassurance.

Jeonghan smiled, his hand stroking her hair. “It’s yours,” he said firmly, his voice dripping with tenderness. “All yours. Merry Christmas, pretty girl.”

Luna’s grip on the bunny tightened as she hugged it to her chest, her tears soaking into its fur. “I can’t believe this,” she murmured, shaking her head. “When did you— how did you even— Yoon Jeonghan!”

Jeonghan laughed at her flustered state, his eyes sparkling with adoration. “One question at a time, angel,” he said, placing a kiss on her temple. “I’ve been planning this for a while. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

She sniffled, her eyes still wet as she looked up at him. “How long?”

“Almost the entire year,” he admitted, smiling. “I started looking at the beginning of the year. Found this little one through a breeder who specializes in raising calm, sweet rabbits. I wanted one that would fit you perfectly.”

Luna hiccupped again, her hands trembling as she stroked the bunny’s floppy ears. “And you kept it a secret this whole time?”

“Of course,” he said, his tone teasing. “What kind of surprise would it be if I didn’t?”

Her bottom lip wobbled as she stared at him, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her nose. “No more crying,” he whispered. “Enjoy your bunny, okay? He’s all yours now. Just like I am.”

Luna couldn’t hold back a watery giggle, burying her face in the bunny’s soft fur. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much, Hannie.”

Jeonghan tightened his hold on her, his smile softening. “Anything for you, angel,” he murmured. “Anything.”

Luna’s fingers trembled slightly as she cradled the bunny close to her chest, her tears slowing as awe overtook her features. She tilted her head down, her full attention shifting to the soft, warm creature in her hands.

Gently, she let it rest against her lap before lifting it higher, gazing at it as though it were the most precious thing she’d ever held. Her voice dropped into a soft, cooing tone, her words as tender as the way her fingers brushed over the bunny’s floppy ears.

“Hi, little one,” she whispered, her lips trembling into a smile as the bunny’s nose twitched at her voice. “Oh my gosh, look at you. You’re so tiny… and soft. Are you real? Huh? Are you really mine?” She nuzzled her nose against the bunny’s fur, her giggles muffled by the soft fluff. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Aren’t you? Yes, you are. What’s your name, hmm? Or do you not have one yet?”

Jeonghan leaned in silently, a soft chuckle escaping him as he kissed the damp streaks of tears from her cheeks. His fingers worked gently, brushing away the strands of hair that had stuck to her skin. He smoothed her hair back as if fussing over her was second nature, his touch lingering like a feather against her temple.

Luna didn’t look up, too engrossed in her new pet, but Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I can’t believe this,” he said suddenly, his voice filled with disbelief but tinged with amusement.

Luna finally lifted her gaze to him, her brows furrowing slightly. “Can’t believe what?” she asked, her voice still soft, almost absentminded as she stroked the bunny’s fur.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “I can’t believe this made you cry harder than when I proposed to you,” he said, his tone mock serious but teasing enough to make her pause.

Her eyes widened before she burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up so unexpectedly that the bunny gave a small wiggle in her hands. She quickly steadied it, cradling it closer as she giggled uncontrollably. “That is not true!” she managed between her laughs. “You are so dramatic. I literally almost blacked out when you proposed to me!”

Jeonghan shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he brushed an invisible speck of dust from his knee. “I don’t know, Jiyeonie. You were crying pretty hard over this bunny.” He gestured to the small creature in her hands, his smirk widening. “I’m just now realizing that not only do I have to share your attention with twelve other members, but now I have to compete with… him.” He nodded toward the bunny as if it were a rival.

Luna snorted, her laughter subsiding into soft giggles as she pressed a kiss to the bunny’s head. “Him?” she repeated, her tone curious. “It’s a boy?”

Jeonghan nodded, his smirk softening into a grin. “Yeah. He’s a boy. What are you gonna name him?”

Luna tilted her head, her gaze drifting back to the bunny. She studied him intently, her lips pursing in thought as she stroked his long ears. A few seconds passed before her face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Bugs,” she declared.

“Bugs?” Jeonghan repeated, arching a brow.

“Bugs Bunny, duh,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes, as though the name were the most obvious choice in the world.

Jeonghan groaned, leaning back slightly as he placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I think I’m starting to regret getting this bunny now,” he joked, though the laughter in his voice betrayed him.

“Oh, you are not!” Luna shot back, kissing the bunny again as if to prove a point. “You love him already. Admit it.”

Jeonghan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched her dote on the bunny. His smirk returned, sly and teasing. “I’ll admit I love him under one condition,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

Luna raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “What condition?”

Jeonghan tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Every kiss Bugs gets has to be doubled and given to me.”

Luna gaped at him, her jaw dropping slightly before she burst into laughter again. “You are so ridiculous!” she said, shaking her head as she hugged the bunny closer. “I’m not keeping track of how many kisses I give him.”

Jeonghan leaned even closer, his face mere inches from hers now. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone dripping with playful charm. “I’ll keep track for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but the flush that spread across her cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, her smile never fading. “You’re impossible, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“And you love me for it, Bae Jiyeon,” he shot back, his grin softening as he reached out to brush his fingers over her cheek one last time.

Luna looked back down at Bugs, her heart full to the brim. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I do.”

Jeonghan leaned back on the couch, the smirk on his lips smug as he observed Luna holding Bugs protectively against her chest.

“I guess I won,” he said, his voice laced with playful arrogance, his eyes twinkling as he glanced down at the faint tear tracks still glistening on her cheeks.

Luna’s lips parted in disbelief before forming into a pout, her brows furrowing as she turned to face him. “Won?” she huffed, tightening her hold on Bugs, who twitched his nose curiously. “Need I remind you that you cried too? That means I was right. So technically…” She tilted her head with a cheeky grin. “We’re even.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his gaze softening as it lingered on her face. His eyes traced every detail— the way her lashes clumped together from tears, the slight swell in her lips from nibbling on them earlier, and the way her cheeks flushed as she cradled Bugs. His attention then shifted to the bunny, whose small movements brought uncontainable joy to Luna’s face.

And just like that, he felt it, a feeling that only Luna managed to make him feel— a rush of something so deep it made his chest ache in the best way.

“We both won,” he murmured, the realization striking him with an unexpected clarity.

Luna blinked, her teasing expression melting into something softer as she looked at him. “We did,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. Her lips curved into a smile that made Jeonghan’s heart stutter, and she leaned forward slowly, Bugs still nestled in her hands.

Jeonghan caught the intent in her eyes and leaned back, his smirk deepening as he allowed her to take the lead. She didn’t hesitate, closing the small gap between them to press her lips to his in a kiss so soft it felt like a whisper. Jeonghan’s hands instinctively moved, one resting lightly on her waist while the other gently cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing over her skin as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. It was slow and unhurried, a quiet exchange that spoke volumes, filled with tenderness and gratitude.

When Luna finally pulled away, her forehead resting against his for a brief moment, she opened her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Hannie. For everything. For Bugs, for always knowing what I need before I even do.”

Jeonghan smiled, his eyes searching hers as he leaned forward to press a fleeting kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I just love you. That’s all.”

Luna bit her lip, her voice soft as she replied, “I love you too. So much.”

Jeonghan brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering. “I know. Everyone in this planet might be listening to you sing your little heart out about me right now,” he teased, his grin making her roll her eyes before she kissed him on the cheek.

As they sat there, the moment of quiet intimacy wrapping around them, they both seemed to come to the same realization. Their earlier predictions about their gifts making each other cry had proven true, but as Jeonghan looked at Luna’s glowing smile and Bugs wiggling his way comfortably into her lap, another thought struck him.

It wasn’t just the gifts. It was the life they’d built together. The love that filled every crack and corner of their hearts. The way their worlds felt brighter simply because the other was in it.

“Looks like we were both right,” Luna murmured, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Bugs’ soft fur as she glanced at Jeonghan. “But it’s more than just that, isn’t it?”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes soft and full of emotion as he gazed at her. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s everything. We both won life, Jiyeonie. You’re my win.”

Luna’s breath hitched slightly, her smile growing wider as her free hand reached for his. Their fingers intertwined effortlessly, their connection as natural as breathing. “And you’re mine,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder as Bugs nestled closer to her chest. “You’ve always been mine.”

And in that moment, with the soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating the room and a warm, shared laughter lingering in the air, they both knew— there was nothing more they could ever ask for.

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[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x batbro male reader

Reader is a magic user (like the scarlet witch), he often uses his powers during his normal day to day life too

He’s constantly found levitating off the ground while meditating, reading his spell book and using his powers to do simple things like making his bed etc

However his powers has a side effect, his powers hurt him sometimes as every time his emotionally unstable or upset his powers can take over but the rest of the family doesn’t know cause he never told them he simply cuddled up to them

One day after a bad argument the pain was too much to hold in and he desperately needed to let go of his powers to get rid of the energy

However he couldn’t do that cause it could damage the manor and hurt the others so he tries to hold it in trying to deal with the pain

He walked into the manor and looked for the first person he could find and simply hugged them

They knew his love language was physical affection but they never knew it went so far as to stop him from having a magical melt down

He tries to explained the issue to whoever he was holding on too and they started praising him and rubbing his back trying to make him calm down till they get to an open space where he can let go

Okay, that sounds cool. And lowkey Bruce coded.

Summary: (Y/N)'s magic is complicated.

Warnings: none really, mentions of an argument.

(Y/N)'s powers are something that he was born with, since his mother shared the same powers. Unfortunately, his mother passed away and (Y/N) came to live with Bruce and the rest of the family. And since Bruce didn't know anything about magic, he called in John Constantine and Zatanna to help him navigate his magical powers. They've been doing it since he was a child and by the time he reached his teen years, he could control his powers.

But magic is not without any consequence. Sometimes, his powers can hurt physically. And his emotional stability is important here. If (Y/N) gets upset, angry or anything else that causes emotional instability, they can come out. And not in a good way. His powers could get devastating and could hurt someone. Thankfully, (Y/N) had a good remedy for it. Cuddling up to his family to calm his nerves.

He never told his family that. However, it made for a good practice to control his emotions. But sometimes emotions can overwhelm a person, no matter how hard they try to control. Bruce knew that something was going on with (Y/N)'s magic, but he choose not to dwell on it. He knew that (Y/N) had a control on it and whatnot, but still.

Bruce is not particularly well versed in magic so he allows (Y/N) to make decisions on that part. And besides, magic is fun to look at. (Y/N) more often than not can be found using his magic in everyday life. Whether it be making his bed, getting a cup of whatever from the kitchen without even getting up from the couch.

But the one thing that the entire family can agree on is the fact that when he is meditating, he levitates, a spell book near him, also levitating, is creepy beyond belief. According to the others. Bruce tried not to be freaked out whenever he saw it, but it was hard not to be. Bruce was both fascinated and kind of scared.

The rest of the boys have shared the same sentiment. It was a fascinating power that (Y/N) possessed, but scary at the same time. And of course, who could say no to cuddles that (Y/N) asked for? Not even Damian could say no to (Y/N)'s cuddles. Not even Damian, the person who despises affection, can't say no to his cuddles. Dick would await the entire day just for those cuddles.

(Y/N) loved his family to bits because of their acceptance, no matter how weird he might look when doing magic. And Bruce has a magic consultant at home, which is great. You never know when magic can pop up in Gotham City. Anything can happen in Gotham City and that was something that every single Gothamite lived by.

Anything can happen in Gotham.

(Y/N) was driving home, pissed beyond belief. His high school classes were done and he got into a bad argument with his friend. He knew that his magic would explode, sooner or later if he didn't find his family in the manor. Something has been brewing in (Y/N) from the moment his woke up. He didn't know why he was feeling that way today.

But something boiled over during the argument and his magic was just itching to get out. And he knew he should let it out. He knows he should. But that would devastate a lot of space. So, cuddles are the only option he has left at this point in time. He parked the car in record time and rushed into the manor, looking for someone who could help him.

That someone was Bruce. (Y/N) didn't expect to see him. He thought that he was at work.

" (Y/N)? You seem stressed, are you okay? " Bruce asked, worried about his son.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, simply buried his face into Bruce's chest and Bruce hugged him. Bruce squeezed back tightly, not knowing what's really going on, but (Y/N)'s love language is physical touch so Bruce didn't really find it to be odd. And besides, he likes these moments.

" Sorry dad, I just needed a hug. "

" Never apologize for needing a hug. Or any affection. Okay? " Bruce murmured softly.

" It's... More complicated than that dad. It's connected to my magic. "

Bruce frowned at that, confused as to what he could mean by that.

" What do you mean? "

" My magic is tied to my emotions. If I get any negative emotions, my magic flares up and itches to be released and it can be devastating. I can hurt people. When that happens, I look for you or my brothers to get cuddles, " (Y/N) murmurs, explaining to Bruce, who nodded in understanding.

He start rubbing (Y/N)'s back softly.

" You did good (Y/N). It can't be easy to control so much magic, but you are doing well. Just relax, breathe in and out and anger and frustration will simply roll out. Okay? "

(Y/N) nodded and Bruce simply continued his praises to his son. " Also, the manor is a space where you can let go okay? This is a safe space for you. Although, I would like to keep the manor intact, " Bruce joked and (Y/N) laughed with him.

" I know, I would like to keep this manor intact as well dad. "

" But in all seriousness, " Bruce began, still rubbing his back, " This manor is a space where you can be safe. Feel safe. Where you can do your magic freely. And if there ever is a time where you feel like your magic is itching to get out, feel free to seek us out, okay? Don't hesitate, " Bruce said as he still rubbed (Y/N)'s back.

" I know that dad, I know. "

" Just making sure kiddo. Also, John Constantine might drop by soon enough. He says he has a new spell book for you, saying you will like this one too. Now, are you hungry? " Bruce asked as he lead (Y/N) to the kitchen.

" I am. Also, why are you home so early? " (Y/N) wondered, knowing that Bruce wouldn't be home this early.

" A big meeting got cancelled, so I came home. Now, sit down. Alfred made some great Shepherd's pie. " Bruce gently sat (Y/N) down at the kitchen island.

Soon enough, his brothers came home, tired and hungry. Dick was surprised to see Bruce home early, but didn't question it, simply sitting down as well.

" Hey B, didn't think you would be home so early. "

The conversation flowed from there and slowly everyone came home. Damian, Tim and Jason all showed various stages of shock. Damian simply nodded, Jason raised his brow and Tim let out a hum as they all sat down, hungry and ready to down some food. It's no easy task feeding 5 boys.

During the conversation, (Y/N) opened up to his brothers about his emotions and connections to magic, essentially repeating what he told Bruce about his magic. Everyone understood and knew that if (Y/N) needs cuddles, they are going to listen.

They don't want their home to be devastated by magic. They like this manor, believe it or not.

[topazadine]

How to Kick Ass at Worldbuilding

Worldbuilding. You either love it and spend all your time dreaming up rules rather than writing, or you hate it and try your best to avoid it despite writing fantasy or scifi.

Or you are in the middle, which is where you should be. You have a healthy appreciation for what makes worldbuilding so special, but you also don't obsess over it.

Worldbuilding does not need to be complicated to be effective, as I've harped on a few different times now. So how do you strike the right balance? Let's take a look.

As always, this is just my opinion based on my own efforts creating The Eirenic Verses. You can disagree and that is fine. However, I hope you'll consider thinking about what I offer here as you craft your own world.

A lot of what people focus on when worldbuilding is not what the audience cares about.

Very few people like to read a book littered with random terms they have to keep track of. We want to build a unique world, but we also don't want to throw such an extreme amount of lore at our readers that they tune out.

When worldbuilding, we want to consider the cognitive load on our audience. This is how much information the reader needs to remember throughout your story so that they can follow along.

Cognitive load includes things like:

Character names and appearances

Relationships between characters

Place names, such as cities and countries

Unique mythological creature or fauna

Backstory, including mythology and folklore

Language names

The general plot (who is the protag, who is the enemy, etc)

Magic usage (who has the power, how they acquire it, any conditions it comes with, etc)

Power dynamics between characters, countries, and so on

Political systems, if included

Even in the most barebones fantasy story, this is a lot to remember. As such, we need to consider what is most important for our readers to generally understand the plot and emphasize this, letting the rest serve as background information that is not quite as essential. The more emphasis we put on something, the more we direct a reader's attention.

At the same time, we want to create a world that feels lived-in and interesting so that readers want to know more. How do we do this?

Consider what you think about foreign countries in our world.

Most of us will have a general concept of a country but only will think about the specifics if it is currently relevant.

Let's take Japan for an example. (I'm a bit of a weeabo, okay?) Here is what I personally think about when I imagine Japan, in order of what I consider important.

Japanese cuisine (sushi, ramen, ochazuke, sake, lots of rice dishes, seafood)

What the people are like according to my own stereotypes/cultural perceptions (polite, quiet, respectful, hardworking, punctual)

Climate and geography (temperate, island country, volcanos, mountains, beaches)

Unique flora and fauna (cherry blossoms, flowers, Nara deer, giant salamanders, pretty birds)

General landmarks, but not necessarily specifics (castles, temples, busy cities, red bridges, torii gates)

Clothing styles (kimonos, school uniforms, business suits, kawaii fashion)

Cultural icons (samurai swords, samurai armor, Shinto shrines)

General overview of the history (samurai, daimyo, feudal system, bushido, Meiji restoration)

Language, but not necessarily specifics of the language (Japanese, kanji, hiragana)

Religion (Buddhism and Shintoism)

Folklore (ghosts, kami, tsukumogami, evil spirits)

Any festivals I might know of (cherry blossom festivals, moon viewings, Obon)

Your own list may have these in a slightly different order, but it's probably what you most think about.

Notice that you will likely not think about these things:

Political system

Specifics of the language

Interpersonal hierarchies

International relations

Specific landmarks

Specific historical events

Famous figures

So why do we think like this? Because in real life, we also have a cognitive load that we must balance with things that are more relevant to our everyday lives.

If I tried to memorize specific details of every country in the world, I would go insane. I have better things to do, so I create a general image of a country based on pictures I've seen, people I've met, food I've eaten, and so on. You do the same thing.

To be realistic, you do not need to be specific. You need to approach worldbuilding the same way people generate their world knowledge: basic concepts and visual imagery.

What to emphasize in worldbuilding

So let's break this down on what you want to think about when creating a world.

Food is one of the most accessible elements of a culture.

Food is how many people learn about different cultures for a simple reason: if you have the ingredients, you can cook food from anywhere. You don't need to be introduced to it by a native of that culture.

Plus, humans tend to like food. We kind of need it to exist.

Think about these things when considering national cuisines and eating habits of your fantasy world:

Do they have spicy food? Bland food? Heavy hearty dishes?

Is most food served hot or cold?

What kind of spices and vegetables do they use? Root vegetables, beans, cinnamon? Salt?

What type of meat do people eat (if any)? Seafood, poultry, beef, pork?

How is bread prepared? What is it made of? (Look, nearly every culture has some sort of bread, we love carbs)

What about pasta? Does that exist here?

Are desserts important? What are they made of?

What kinds of drinks do they have? Coffee, tea, milk, lemon water?

Is alcohol a thing? What kind of alcohol? How often do people drink? Are there bars?

How often do people eat, and when? Do they have the typical three square meals, or do people eat kinda whenever they feel like it?

Do people prepare food at home or are there restaurants?

Are communal dinners common?

Cultural stereotypes provide tension and can help craft your characters.

Are people in your culture known for their boldness? Their cunning? Their resilience? Their standoffishness? Their fiery tongues, or their passive-aggressive jabs?

You can play with a lot of this, either confirming or denying the assumptions through your characters.

Landscape gives us an idea of where we are and what to expect.

Landscapes are some of my favorite aspects of worldbuilding rather than intricate magic systems and political concepts. Readers get a good sense of environment when you focus in on landscape and how it impacts the characters. You can also build a culture off your landscape, such as how certain geographic features may influence peoples' attitudes and lifestyles.

For example, a coastal landscape will have beautiful views of the ocean, sparkling beaches, and maybe tall cliffs. Being a fisherman may be seen as an honorable but dangerous profession. People might cliff dive for fun.

Mountainous areas may produce cultural enclaves, especially in a fantasy setting where everyone is more isolated. One mountain town may have a completely different vibe than the town over.

Flat, wide-open plains mean people can spread out, but since moving from one place to another is easier, there may be a more cohesive culture.

An area with caves will have a sense of mystery and fear; there may be a lot of superstitions about the caves.

A swampy area can also be very mysterious as there are so many places to hide out and a lot of dangerous animals.

Climate influences how people behave.

Hot climates make people need to conserve energy, so they may take afternoon naps in the worst of the heat. They might value relaxation and calm over industry and productivity because bro, have you ever tried to even walk outside in the Florida heat? Shut up and get me air conditioning.

Cold climates make people need to stay active to stay warm, but they can also produce a sense of isolation. Think about how outdoorsy the Finnish are but how they looove their personal space.

Temperate climates are probably a bit more even-tempered, but as weather changes get more extreme, people will vary their behaviors based on the seasons: spending more time outdoors during summer but holing up during winter. The culture may emphasize hospitality because people need to rely on one another to survive, and they have time to meet their neighbors during the summer.

I am very partial to temperate climates, being from the American Midwest. We're known for being nice and hardy people. You should come visit.

Flora and fauna help the world feel real.

When I worldbuild, I often base my cultures on a real place and what kinds of animals or plants are there. For example, Breme is based on Mongolia so I have herbivores, big raptors, and a lot of grasses.

A warm climate will have lots of reptiles. Sea life will be important in a coastal area. Swamps might have big predators. Mountains will have hardy creatures that can climb. A savannah area will have huge herbivores and fast, hungry predators.

General cityscapes or villages are great for providing a sense of place.

Do people build low spread-out cities or tall rickety homes? What kinds of building materials do they use? Are there lots of markets, bars, apocetharies, temples or churches? What do homes look like here? What are any unique architectural features?

This gives a sense that we are in a different but specific world that has a rich culture.

Clothing tells us what people prioritize.

Cold places will have lots of layers. Hot places will have soft draping outfits or very skimpy outfits. Natural materials that are easily available will make up the majority of the clothing in a fantasy setting. You wouldn't have people wearing cotton in a place that doesn't grow cotton. If there are lots of sheep, people will wear wool. If there's lots of cattle, people will wear leather.

You can also think about adornment. Is jewelry common? What type? Why is it important? Is it a status symbol, a way to keep wealth, or perhaps ways to honor ancestors?

Cultural icons demonstrate what the society values.

A warlike culture will prioritize weaponry. A pacifist culture will think about art and music. A nomadic culture may have a rich oral tradition. An agrarian society will emphasize farming rituals.

Think of a few things that symbolize your society, whether that's musical instruments, weaponry, textiles, statues, or jewelry. Consider how those traditions could have come about and why.

Folklore and mythology offer an offbeat but important sense of history.

Folklore is often tied up with many other factors of a society, such as their religion, landscape, history, and overall values.

For example, the Japanese believe items survive for over a century gain a kami, or spiritual essence. This shows that the Japanese cherish their long history and their material culture, and it also infuses their Shinto belief into folklore.

You can also think about cryptids or ghost stories. Isolated and difficult terrain often makes people think of monsters lurking in the woods. Areas with lots of caves will have myths about what is down there. Coastal areas develop myths about ghost ships.

Idioms, turns of phrase, and gestural quirks tell us more about the culture without overwhelming readers.

This one can be more challenging (I haven't done much with it) but if you can manage it, you'll have a very rewarding story.

I'm not talking about making a whole new language here, but rather about idioms and turns of phrase. Think about all the fun idioms that English has, like "beating around the bush" or "break a leg." Without cultural context, you can't understand them, so you'll have to incorporate an explanation without actually stating it.

For example, you can have a character say "the horses are running fast" as they look out the window to see a sheet of rain. We can guess from this that the idiom is rain = horses, so lots of rain = fast horses. We'll understand from this that this culture probably loves horses; maybe they're a formerly nomadic race.

Gestures, like whether people give thumbs-up, point with their index, or bow with their hands to their chest all give us a feeling of the culture without being overwhelming.

What not to emphasize

Now that we've gone through some things to focus on, let's talk about what you don't need to make up for your world.

A whole-cloth language

Please, you don't need to create brand new words for things that exist in our world. You can reference a language, but do not make people memorize nouns they don't need.

Don't even make up the language at all. Say there's a language and then write the rest of it in English.

Made-up languages are irritating for readers because they want to focus on the characters and plot, not mysterious words they need to translate.

It's possible to make languages interesting without going into specifics. For example, the Bas-Lag trilogy by China Mieville has a species that communicates in clicks but the species can also learn human languages if necessary. There's a language called Salt that's basically the common tongue blended from everything else.

Do we need to know how Salt works? No. Doesn't matter. We're told someone is talking in Salt, or they're learning it, or they switch to it when meeting someone from a different culture. That's plenty.

Specifics of a magic system

You're not going to instantly summon up all the rules of magical realms when you visit a new country; you might not even know them. And your readers won't be too interested in them either.

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, I have High Poetry. Readers will come to know that this was a magical system where certain people given the power can recite a poem and whatever they speak comes true. Every poem can only be used once.

It was given by the goddess Poesy to a specific woman, Saint Luridalr. It was so successful that the goddess started giving it to more women and a whole religious system arose.

I don't need to explain exactly how it works because no one cares. Someone makes things happen by coming up with a poem: that's about it. We don't need to question whether certain rhyme schemes or meter or punctuation impacts anything. That's too technical.

If you've got pages and pages of notes on all the intricacies of the magical system, you have too much. Pare it down.

Political systems

Unless you're writing a fantasy where politics are absolutely critical to the plot, you can just reference the political system in passing and maybe elucidate a few key elements, like who the leader is, how power is transferred, etc. You don't need to go into all the specifics because most people are not going to care.

Hierarchies

Please don't lay out the entirety of an army's ranking system or how someone is promoted. Make up something consistent and stick with it, but don't go into exhaustive detail. People aren't going to sit and question whether a captain is above a lieutenant or how long it takes to become a general.

We'll know that a general is a big deal if the characters make it a big deal. We'll know who the head of the army is but we don't need to know how they got to that position.

Exact city layouts

You do not need to tell us where everything is in relation to one another. Tell us characters are moving from one landmark to another. You could say "this is across a bridge, this is up in the mountains, these buildings are right next to one another, these two buildings are in opposite ends of the city." That's plenty.

If somewhere is very far away, just show them travelling there and how long it takes. You don't need to measure it in miles or leagues or whatever. We will guess that if it takes them a week to walk there, it's pretty distant.

Economic systems

We just need the basics here: mercantile, capitalist, bartering, etc. We don't need to know if the coinage is pegged to a certain precious metal or if people invest their money or how people are paid. That's boring.

In my world, I have two currencies: quillim for Breme and barnals for Sina. What's the exchange rate? I don't know and don't care. How much is one quillim worth? One quillim is not a lot but 2,500 quillim is. How much is the average person paid? Doesn't matter. Do people keep lots of coins on them? No one is asking that. It's not important.

Transit systems

Tells us if the roads are cramped, spread out, nonexistent, poorly maintained. Tell us if there are road blocks or toll booths. Tell us if there are roving bandits. The more physical and sensory you can get, the more real it feels.

Few people care about the specifics of even their own transportation system. I know highways are fast, I know tollroads are expensive, I know parkways are pretty, I know some cities have weird turnabouts and dead ends. That's exactly what I need and what I care about.

That's what I've got for you today. If you liked this, maybe you'll consider checking out The Eirenic Verses series, which follows most of these principles.

I've been told that my fantasy writing is very approachable, even for those who don't usually like fantasy, specifically because I don't get too insane with my worldbuilding. So maybe you'll enjoy it too!

[hazyange1s]

Enshrouded

Summary: (abbreviated from the ao3 version because this baby is long enough 😂) MC is an Auror seeking refuge from the arduous nature of her everyday life, and finds it in a secret wizarding club hidden in London; where she has an unforgettable encounter with a strangely familiar, masked man.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC / Reader

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI. — p in v, oral (f and m receiving), drug/alcohol use, semi-public, anonymous, little bit rough but nothing too crazy, mentions of violence/blood (mc just really LOVES her job lmao), lots of adult language oop, aged up characters (everyone is in their early 20’s)

Word count: 7.3k

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream… nah jk it came to me while watching Bridgerton (go figure). Started writing it months ago and after much self-doubt I present baby’s first published filth 💀

read here on Ao3 🌹

It was the mystery. She had long suspected that was what kept her going back for more, time and time again.

The risk of it all was enticing too, of course, but more than anything, she loved a damn good mystery. One complex and intricate, one that took time and effort to unravel. As an Auror, well, her life was chock full of such simple delights.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much joy to be had in solving the cases slapped on her desk by the Chief Auror - any satisfaction in making an arrest was often muddied by the names of the victims left behind. So she often sought out milder (but just as potent) forms of that heady adrenaline rush in order to scratch the itch - and her absolute favorite was Reverie. Unassuming enough as names go, and the facade would lead you to think so, too: its uniform brick painted a dingy gray just like every other shopfront along the shadowed, misty cobblestone of Knockturn Alley.

If any of her coworkers found out she frequented such a spot …oh, she’d never hear the end of it. Worse than that, her Chief might even believe such behavior warranted suspension; as wanton impropriety from a well known Ministry employee would bring her morals into question. Likely, she’d get an earful about the utter shame it would bring upon the Ministry itself if she were spotted.

But that was the glorious thing about Reverie: the moment you stepped through its doors, you became somebody else.

Or, rather, no one at all.

Attendance was by invitation only; delivered anonymously while the recipient slept soundly in their bed (certainly disconcerting, but how could she complain?). No letter, just a silken black mask.

Donning the disguise allowed its wearer to see past the heavy glamor placed on the building and step inside - without being apprehended by one of the black-clad guards on watch. Yet the mask’s hidden talents didn’t end there. It was the club’s signature secret: while it was true they merely framed the eyes, each mask contained a glamor of their own that completely concealed one’s identity - whether or not someone would recognize them without it.

(You could be staring into the face of your best friend and would never know it.)

Which, incidentally, was expressly forbidden inside the club’s boundaries (one of very few rules, mind); as strict anonymity was what kept the underground facility running, despite the fact that the Ministry remained attuned to the whispers of a taboo venue boasting all manners of rampant debauchery right under their noses.

Still, the sorcery that offered Reverie protection had held true for well over five years, and its owners were more than dedicated to ensuring it was always so.

Most well-versed and connected members of English wizarding society had at least indulged in rumors of an alternative establishment hidden in the city. They traded whispers of what horrors may lurk behind those gray walls - dark magic and blatant impropriety and dangerous indulgences…

They couldn’t be more right.

The air was already thick with the tang of whiskey and rank with perspiration by the time she arrived an hour after its Friday opening. With each step she took through the meandering crowd, heels clicking on the marble floors, curling smoke in every shade imaginable wafted around the room and blissfully chased away the odor with frankincense and mallowsweet.

But she hadn’t come for the medicinals tonight, tempting as they were after a week that had left her emptier than the glasses long ago abandoned by drunken patrons. Not even a goblet of Merlot or a shot of coffee liqueur (with a splash of cream) could chase away what ailed her.

No, tonight she sought only one means of release, and needed nothing but the tension simmering in her blood as fuel for the fire driving her to desperation.

Nights at Reverie were not for the faint of heart (or stomach), nor the chaste and mild. While technically not allowed in open spaces, more than half of the attendees usually found themselves with a partner by dawn; in one of the many private back rooms or curtained-off alcoves - or dark corners, even.

After all, what did they have to lose when the strings of your identity weren’t a factor?

Usually she’d been content to let the men and women come to her, and admittedly there hadn’t been a shortage of such… entanglements in the three months since she’d received her own mask.

But the time for coy shyness and drawn out flirtation was long gone. Leaning against one of the wall-to-floor Grecian columns at the edge of the room, she simply tossed back her hair and began to scan it for potential prey.

There was a generous sample size, it was true. A tall, lithe gentleman whose hair shone like spun gold, a flawlessly curved woman with rich brown skin, a broad redhead sporting a wide grin…

No, no, and no… none of them are just right.

She huffed with restrained frustration, tapping her foot to the string music playing a haunting melody that seemed to fill every space in the curved underground.

You know there’s only one person you wanted to find here tonight.

Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards - beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

“There you are.”

Gasping, she pressed a palm to her satin covered chest, which heaved beneath the boning of her - possibly too tight - corset at the unexpected greeting. But what truly robbed her of breath until she was penniless… oh, gods.

They’d answered her prayers after all: the man standing behind her with a luminous grin was precisely the one she’d been hoping to see.

A regular, as luck would have it. She’d spotted him in attendance more often than not, but had never had the courage to approach (mainly due to the slew of witches and wizards who got to him first).

With her attraction being largely from afar, she’d assumed that his lack of…well, anything - other than a single dance lasting no more than five minutes - had meant he was uninterested. Though the smile he wore was genuine, not like the mask framing his dark eyes, and it sparked in the dim lighting cast from candelabras around the wide room.

“Here I am…?” She quirked a brow questioningly, hand lowering to her hip. “But, er, you must be mistaken. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are.” His chuckle was somehow more musical than the quartet filling the air and more rough than smooth, but exquisitely rich - as was the material of his dark vest and the deep gray collared shirt rolled above his elbows.

“On account of the fact that I’d know that particular dress anywhere. We’ve never been properly introduced, as I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” She smiled - maybe coy was still in the cards, if only to spend more time with this handsome stranger.

“I suppose that’s frowned upon here really, so…I believe there’s a better way we could become acquainted, if you’d be amenable.”

She had to be impressed with his wanton confidence, if nothing else…though she got the sense there were many rather impressive things about him. Even more arresting was the boldness of his touch; broad hands reaching for hers to bring to his supple lips, where they lingered for a moment before releasing her gently.

Alright. He knew what he was doing.

But she had to play just a touch hard to get - if only to give him a taste of what he’d been dishing out for months (intentionally or otherwise). He’d been playing coy after their first and only real interaction; shooting her little winks and whispered hellos on random nights - only to disappear again amongst the all-black crowd without giving her a chance to respond.

Likely, he’d been going off to find some other witch or wizard for entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, a knowing smile playing on her own red-painted lips. “I don’t recall meeting you at all. Your face has a similar quality to many men here, you see.”

“Ah, somehow I doubt that.” Darkness collected in his dimples (how had she not noticed them before?)

“Saturday, precisely two months ago to the day, you were dancing in my arms wearing a red dress like you have on right now.” His voice was like honey and velvet as he spoke. With each word, he seemed to get closer.

And yes, of course she remembered. She was just surprised he still did.

It’s why she’d been stuck with a ridiculous, schoolgirl infatuation for weeks now; why she’d worn red each and every night in the hopes of catching his attention once more.

The brief escapades she’d busied herself with in the meantime had done in a pinch, but there was something about him she was positively dying to unravel. Perhaps it was the spark in those deep brown eyes - like the dark liquor she favored- that spoke of depths hidden far below the playful, self-assured surface.

Or maybe it was how he smelled from mere inches away, as he was now: pine, sandalwood, and a spicy scent akin to the smoke furling around him like a haze of fog.

“You’ve got quite the memory.” She mused, unable to stop her smile from bursting into full bloom. “I suppose that does ring a bell— you trodded on my foot.”

He groaned. “I’d had a lot of whiskey that night. I’m usually much more coordinated when sober. In fact…”

His fingers slid up her wrist, moving with slow caresses up her arm and shoulder until they came to rest beneath her jaw, angling it up to align with his gaze.

“Is it too presumptuous of me to ask…if you’d let me make it up to you?”

For a moment - just a breath, she hesitated. And why? This was exactly what she’d come for tonight, and with the man she’d lusted over for ages now falling right into her lap… what sort of woman would refuse?

It was something unidentifiable, intangible. A tug on her gut. Something that flashed in the white of his smile as it caught the candlelight. Like a sense of deja vu; there one second and gone the next, leaving her with nothing but the old itch crawling beneath her flushed skin.

“Presumptuous, certainly. But not unwelcome. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She purred, squaring her shoulders and allowing him to guide her to the edge of the room with one palm flat on her lower back.

What she’d expected was to be whisked away to one of the rooms tucked away in the back; filled with four poster beds and velvet curtains and enough firelight to be a safety hazard. Instead, he brought her up to the bar, catching the attention of its immaculately suited (and masked) tender with a wave of his finger. The movement distracted her while he ordered Merlin-even-knew what. She found herself watching the way his fingers curled and wrist turned with each gesture made, his palms visibly calloused - perhaps he had seen his fair share of combat, too - and the backs of his knuckles covered in freckles.

She had to wonder what constellations might be found if she dared to uncover the rest of him.

A glint of gold caught the light, mercifully returning her attention on the smiling eyes of the man who had taken to slipping a glass of red wine between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” He asked, tilting his chin up in the direction of the raised goblet.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To…” his lips pursed thoughtfully. (Another startlingly distracting body part.) How pink and supple they looked, and how good they would taste when stained with burgundy…

“Liberation.“

Fitting, indeed.

“Santé.” She touched her chalice to his without breaking the meeting of their eyes.

“Slainte.”

The cloying bitterness of Merlot coated her tongue, filling her stomach with warmth - a taste she hadn’t encountered for years. One she missed dearly.

“How’d you know I’d like Merlot?” She licked wine from her bottom lip.

He spoke at the same time; thick brows arched high. “You’re French?”

They laughed, the sounds winding together into a hypnotic sort of harmony.

“You first.” He inclined his head.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply fluent in the language.” She couldn’t give away any secrets, not even the place of her birth.

“That accent was flawless. Nobody but a native could articulate like that.”

She shook her head coyly, though not without amusement.

“Fine.” A sigh that seemed almost long-suffering stirred the smoke coiling around them. “I prefer my women with a bit of mystery, anyway. As for your question, darling…”

Oh, he was a rogue through and through. His eyes greedily swept over every inch of her gown to settle on the curves and shapes he seemed to appreciate most before he even deigned to finish.

“It’s… bold. Much like you, if you don’t think me too audacious for saying so.”

He paused to take another sip, savoring the act of licking his lips as she had moments ago, and almost smugly noting her obvious interest. “And I’ve obviously noticed you enjoy the color red, even if that part’s a bit on the nose.”

“You could say that.” Her heart fluttered traitorously into her throat. His undivided and enthusiastic attention was not only a welcome surprise, but a conflicting one. It wouldn’t do to fall for a masked man - in the end, they could never truly know each other beyond the four walls that brought them together.

Reverie. A dream - that’s all. You’ll wake up in the morning.

She straightened her shoulders, resolved and refortified. “And do you? Enjoy the color, that is?”

Her voice was low, only audible due to the minute distance between them, the man tilting his head down towards her as one finger grazed the dip of her neckline.

“What’s not to love?” He mused. “Red represents… vitality. Danger. Passion…”

Her skin prickled in the wake of the trail he drew from collar to shoulder and down her arm, and when it found her free hand, their fingers threaded together with such ease that they could have done it a thousand times before.

He could hear her heart, couldn’t he? With that amount of surety behind his stare, there was no doubt she was being read like an open book.

“That’s why we keep coming back here, isn’t it?” He was near enough now that every word was felt as a cloud of heat gracing her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Because we relish danger, and need passion like air. We all come to feel… alive.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if you prepared that line beforehand.” She laughed.

His was such a beautiful sound, bubbling like champagne and leaving her with a warm feeling as if she’d tasted it herself.

“Let’s say I did… is it working?”

”Absolutely.”

Whatever spell had allowed them to maintain a sense of decorum shattered after that confirmation, which said so much more than was spoken aloud. The look exchanged between them was another conversation in itself; a volley of traded questions and answers that sent pure lightning skittering up her spine.

“Come with me.” He said abruptly (though not without a dutiful incline of his head; dark hair shining with veins of red in the candlelight) before tugging her away from the bar, where their drinks were hastily abandoned.

It seemed he was just as content to curse restraint, pulling her along with such haste that she tripped on her skirts (more than once) - evidently forgetting his longer legs and her tall heels as she bumped into a distracted patron that was left with a spilled drink, a scowl, and a breathless apology she didn’t quite mean.

They paused at the mouth of the corridor tucked in the back. It was lined with nothing but identical doors of deepest mahogany: some tightly shut, some cracked, and others yet wide open.

The meaning behind each was simple enough: shut meant “do not disturb”, cracked meant “listen or join, if you dare”, and wide open meant “vacant”. The wizard gave her a boyish grin as they all but stumbled to a stop in front of one that remained ajar and beckoned with soft golden light from the candles within.

“What are you waiting for?” She panted.

Without waiting on so much as a blink, her hand fisted in the crisp white of his button down, guiding him through the threshold before the slam of wood against the frame echoed in the empty chamber.

“A witch who knows what she wants, I see.” He chuckled, his hands needing no invitation to wind around her waist until their bodies molded at each curve.

“Well, you’ve been taunting me for a while, haven’t you?”

She took advantage of her hold on his clothes, forgoing the ease of simply waving her wand when she could take the opportunity to feel every inch of skin she revealed by releasing the buttons on his shirt.

Freckled - just as she’d suspected, and with a neat nest of dark hair over the swell of his pectorals that her palms begged to rest on.

“Wait, wait.” He huffed, hands coming to halt hers before they had time to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.

“No - not wait as in stop -“ he’d seen the crease between her brows. “Wait, as in… slow down.”

”You seemed rather impatient a minute ago when you were dragging me through the place.” She said wryly.

“Impatient to get you alone, yes.” His knuckle grazed her cheek gently, reverently studying what little of her face he was able to see.

“But…” It was as transient as a ghost, at first. A phantom of touch over the swell of her lip, and then firmer as his thumb outlined the shape. “I’d very much like to kiss you first. May I?”

That he even asked such a question - let alone made his intentions to savor the night clear - was enough to poke another hole in her notions of a one-night affair. What if she couldn’t stand to never have this man again when it was over?

Well… there was always the luxury of dreams.

“Yes, of course.” She whispered.

She’d been right earlier - the taste of wine clung to the corners of his mouth, somehow even sweeter when combined with a hint of peppermint cooling the sharp breath he took the moment their lips fit together effortlessly. Her tongue sought to part them in search of the buzz that the alcohol couldn’t take credit for; finding his and groaning with delight as he melted into her.

A soft tug on her scalp announced the presence of his fingers as they threaded through strands of hair with the sole purpose of eliminating any and all space between them. Eagerly he rolled their tongues together, smearing the red painted on her lips across his chin.

They only paused to share a breath that left her dizzy. The sight of his skin stained with rouge was more beautiful than any art piece hanging on the tapestried walls - and there would be more colors adorning it by the end of the night, if she had anything to say about it.

“Now…” The brunet exhaled when they broke apart, lips brushing with each word. “Now, you can take off my clothes.”

No need to tell her twice.

His vest slumped to the floor, giving her leave to continue her work on that long trail of buttons ending at the waist of his trousers. Before long it, too, was little more than a rag at their feet. When she was privy to every square inch of his bare torso, her hands took liberties to caress the panes of his chest, marveling without shame.

“If you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to even the score.” His voice was near a husk as he watched her intently.

No complaints arose (alright, perhaps one — when he spun her around; effectively depriving her of the ability to keep touching him) as the skilled wizard sought the eye hooks at the back of her bodice, dexterous fingers releasing each one with a snap that seemed to echo. All the while his mouth found her skin - tongue laving over her throat, teeth nipping where it met her shoulder to plant a bloom of deepest red.

“Mmm… keep doing that.” She hummed appreciatively, head lolling to the side.

“You don’t mind if I leave you a few reminders to find in the morning?” He chuckled. By then, he’d succeeded in freeing her of the constricting garment, tossing it to the carpet by the fire before he started to untie her skirt.

“Not at all.”

”Good,” another kiss, just below her ear this time. “Because I want to be able to see that it’s still there next time we meet.”

If he wasn’t careful, she’d start to think he already had plans to do this again.

She didn’t wait for him to move her this time; taking control back once she was only clad in her underthings by going for the buttons holding up his bottoms. Oddly enough, her fingers took on a tremulous quality - one she’d rarely (if ever) experienced in an intimate moment since her very first.

He seemed to adopt a similar growing impatience that made him forgo the back and forth to slip the sleeves of her chemise down, guiding the garment over her figure.

”Gods, you’re a vision.” He groaned and reached for the curve of her waist, feeling out the shape only to travel upwards until he could cup a breast in each hand, thumbs teasing the peaks hardened against the air.

Even as she shivered when he leaned down to bestow a kiss on either one, she managed to get him out of everything but the long undergarments concealing that which she craved most. But when she went for them, he stopped her yet again - catching her wrist only to sweep the startled witch into his awaiting arms with a self-satisfied grin.

The mattress depressed beneath her weight, bouncing back as she blew away a stray lock of hair to look up at him. Watching the way his arms — corded with thick veins — flexed and his eyes narrowed. With barely concealed impatience he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her thighs.

“Quite the man handler, you are.” She giggled once he’d yanked her towards him so her legs fell open on either side of his knees.

That drew the attention of his wandering eyes.

“Somehow I doubt that was a complaint.” His mouth quirked in earnest. ”Nor do I envision you’ll have any after I’m done with you.”

He began to toy with the idea of removing her drawers - the last thing preventing her from losing her mind, potentially - by sliding his fingers beneath their frilly hems, nails prickling the skin of her thighs as they scratched up and down in a taunting rhythm.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered out of the clear blue. “Anything. The only things I know about you are that you’re French, love the color red and Merlot… oh, and you’re a much better dancer than me.”

Sharing random factoids wasn’t necessarily the foreplay she’d been expecting, nor the kind she was used to, but she couldn’t say she minded when his voice alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Uhmm…” She had to think of something vague; a throwaway tidbit useless to anyone else.

While he watched, waited with wide and patient eyes, she sighed, “I can’t go a day without coffee. Never quite developed a taste for tea. And I drink it with three sugars.”

He blinked twice in quick succession. All the while he had yet to stop playing with the edges of her knickers, though he gradually let one hand inch up her covered thigh, as if testing the waters. But, she wondered… what was there to test? He had been so self-assured outside this room, yet now there was a hint of nerves beneath the cool exterior.

”So dark and sweet is the way you like it, huh?” He simply couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

The smirk she donned was enough of an answer. “Tell me something about you, then.”

”Me… well.” His mouth quirked before he shifted on the bed - lying on his stomach to greet the center of hers with a kiss. Then each of her hips with a gentle nip.“I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on, really. Fiction, nonfiction, magical and otherwise… I’ll devour it all.”

A slight pinch followed by the softness of his lips alerted her to another cluster of marks he began working onto her lower stomach, covering as much ground as he could on her thighs. His breath, heating her core as it came in little pants, was beginning to become a significant problem - one made her feel warm and heavy. Like sinking into a hot bath, if it were near-boiling.

“In fact, if I had to pick my favorite place in the world, it would be sitting in front of a fire with a good book.” His fingertip ever so slightly grazed the inner curve of her thigh.

“A man of charm and intelligence…how ever did I get so fortunate?”

He chuckled at her teasing lilt, the sound tickling her sensitive skin while he began to make way for the kisses left up the length of her thigh — bunching her drawers up until his fingers just brushed the soft nest of curls at the top.

“Although right now I have to say; I’m very much enjoying this spot, as well.” The wicked man smiled up at her.

“Well, if you’re waiting for an invitation, you’ve got it.” She tried to sound casual about it all, but truth be told, she was fighting every urge to rip his underwear off and throw him onto the bed herself like some sort of madwoman.

He might make her into one before the sun rose, anyway.

She was sure of it when he began pressing tortuously chaste kisses to her other thigh, and when his fingers slid lower to deliver a gentle stroke down the center of her slit had her shuddering with anticipation.

“And how long have you been this wet, love?” His deep rasp was muffled by the fabric of her underwear.

She chuckled. “Hmm…since the moment you took me to the bar, probably.”

He sat up with a distinctly prideful grin, slipping the soft cotton undergarments down her legs, his eyes alight as he settled back between them.

She could almost see the words hanging off his lips as he gazed up at her (that sight was enough to make her hips shift needily), but for whatever reason, they weren’t cut loose. No, he busied his mouth with far more important pursuits. After pausing briefly to indulge his eyes in an appreciative sweep of her naked body, he at last found the perfect spot to make her whine (and on the first try, too) with naught but a languorous sweep of his tongue.

It wasn’t nearly enough to quell any bit of the ache driving her into inevitable madness, but he showed her mercy by flattening the wet muscle against her folds and following a slow trail up until the tip of it lightly flicked her clit.

“Oh, please do that again.” She pleaded (had she been reduced to begging so quickly?), one hand inching towards her breast — seeking any more stimulation she could find — as the other slid through the silken waves atop his head.

He obliged. But with more pressure this time, and so, so slow, observing her reaction as if she were the most scintillating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

It really was something about those eyes. With such unfairly long lashes that fanned over russet cheeks, and the way the candlelight flickering off the walls would touch them just so to light the near-black irises with a rich gold. His lips stretched against her skin, noticing her attention and giving her an approving hum that was met by the push of her hips towards his tongue.

“Mmmph —“ he grunted when her thighs pressed to his ears, entrapping him between them greedily. “Like that, do you?”

Her answering moan earned another grin followed by a gentle suck on her clit that only brought out another breathy, low sound.

“But gods, you taste so sweet…decadent, just as I’d said.”

Merlin, his voice…the way it rumbled with barely contained desire and pulled obscenities from her own throat was sinful.

Drowning in sin didn’t seem such a bad way to go, at present.

The possibility became reality once he re-added a finger to the mix; curling it beneath his tongue to trace the folds before sinking gradually into her awaiting heat.

“Oh, f—“

One of her own fingers rolled her nipple atop the breast she’d been playing with as she shivered. If he kept this up much longer, she would surely come undone right on his tongue; wrapped around that rough digit gliding in and out of her as it stroked her upper walls.

But that didn’t feel right. As wonderful as the softness of his lips enclosing around her clit was, she couldn’t imagine a proper substitute for the stretch his cock would provide instead.

“I need…” she had been about to voice her request when the tip of his tongue prodded her entrance. Both of her hands now gripped his auburn waves like they were keeping her tethered to earth, legs trembling with the effort to fight off the warmth swelling in her core.

“Need what?” He took an eager breath in, only to release it through pursed lips over the throbbing bud he seemed to adore. “I want to hear it loud and clear, lovely.”

An impatient groan parted her bitten lips. “I need more. I need you inside me when you make me come.”

“There you go. Gods, you sound so pretty when you ask to be fucked…” It took one last excruciating pump of his finger inside of her before he withdrew to push himself up onto his knees with a mess of her own making shining on his clean-shaven chin.

“First, though…” The finger coated with her fluids was sucked between his reddened lips. When it was pulled out with a slick, slow draw, he crooked it in her direction. “Come here. I want you to get a little taste, too.”

Don’t mind if I do.

On trembling hands she raised herself up on wobbly knees pressed into the soft mattress, sucking in a breath when she curled her fingers over the band of his underwear and waited for approval.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed gently.

It was difficult not to be at least a little intimidated by the proud shape outlined through his bottoms (and leaving a very telltale wet spot in the light fabric), but she pushed past it with a firm swallow.

Her breath whooshed out without prompting as she rolled them over his hips and the rather shapely swell of his backside. And, as it had before taking a sip of the wine he’d offered earlier, her mouth watered when she was rewarded with the view of his cock as it twitched at the first rush of air over the leaking tip.

Personally, she wasn’t much of an artist. She preferred a wand to a brush and blood over red paint, but there was something about him that begged to be immortalized on canvas. How satisfying it would be to perfectly capture the artful tapering from wide shoulders to a slimmer waist, or even to carve from marble the thickness of his thighs.

She doubted it would do him justice.

“Are you going to paint a portrait?” He teased, as if ripping those very thoughts from her mind.

“Just might. And could you blame me?” She answered with a bite of her lip. But there was too much bloody talk going on. In the spirit of action, she lowered her mouth to meet the curve of his hipbone and began marking a wet trail downwards.

The light scrape of his fingernail over her cheekbone made her lashes flutter as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, his breathing growing more labored when her palm slipped over the softness of his length — only to fold her fingers around it with gentle pressure. By the time she brushed her lips over the head — then her tongue to collect the salty fluid now leaking down the shaft — he was keening under his breath.

“Mmhmm…keep going, please.” he murmured.

As if she would stop. On the contrary, she wrapped her mouth around him, making a circle around the ridge of his cockhead with the tip of her tongue only to trace the length of him by following a thick vein. He was thick — stretching her lips wide when she took him in inch by inch, allowing him to prod the back of her throat to moisten her mouth.

“Just like that. You’re doing brilliantly, love; just perfect.” He said breathlessly, scraping her hair back into a haphazard updo with a broad hand.

Spurred on by the praise, she hollowed her cheeks for a better seal, dragged her mouth along his shaft until he rewarded her with a broken, guttural moan. She kept it up until finding a rhythm that his hips desperately pushed forward to match.

“I won’t… fuck, you’re going to make me embarrass myself…” he chuckled weakly.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. As much as the idea of swallowing his seed enticed her, there was a far better option in her mind. Which is why, despite his immediate protest in the form of a low grunt and a harsh tug on her hair, she gave one last slow lick before pulling away.

The increasingly flustered wizard tracked her movements with lust-glazed eyes. “I was hoping to drag this out, but I think you’re proper ready for me, aren’t you?”

Her enthusiastic nod spurred a laugh as he unfolded her legs from beneath her, wasting no time in hooking one around his hips and propping the other up to rest on his shoulder. The view was… magnificent, and he seemed to agree as his tongue darted out to taste her essence on his lips.

She’d expected another round of teasing. How relieved she was when instead, the blunt head of his cock parted her readily, sweeping through the slickness there with a stuttered, needy groan.

And just when she was about to insist —

A gasp tore through her dry throat as he pushed himself inside of her with little resistance. She was suddenly so full; though it wasn’t until he was fully sheathed that she let out a long, breathy sigh.

“Good? You alright?” He murmured, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of her thighs. When she nodded, his mouth curled into a smile that she felt amidst the kisses left along her calf.

Oh, it was more than good — by the time he dragged his length out just to drive himself forward again, she was positively keening for more; her hands blindly reaching for some part to grab and managing to splay them flat on his lower back to force him deeper. He could hardly fight her, and it seemed like he didn’t want to anyway. The wizard’s eyes had grown hooded with lust, those sumptuous lips parting to make way for a moan that sent a shock down her spine. Her own eyes fluttered shut as he began to glide in and out of her in languid, practiced thrusts.

“Mm mmm,” he hummed chastingly. “I’d like to see those pretty eyes.”

His boldness — so wildly sexy.

Looking at him was almost a taboo in itself. Nine times out of then, her trysts had involved a lot of pleasure-filled sounds and heavy breathing; but conversation? Not so much. Some people didn’t even like to be kissed — and others found a prolonged gaze entirely too intimate.

This man didn’t just fuck. It was a different experience altogether, and it was bloody incredible. So, like the hopelessly besotted witch she was, she met his gaze and responded with a wanton moan at the sight of his head thrown back in pleasure while his hips made wide circles against hers.

“Gods, you fit like a glove,” his body shuddered with a stuttered exhale. “Feel so good…”

She canted her hips up to meet his in protest of his lazy pace, earning a broken chuckle before being rewarded with the head of his cock roughly probing her to its absolute limit.

“Godric…” she whined pathetically. “Again — right there.”

“Is Godric Gryffindor the one providing your pleasure right now?” He mocked. “No, I don’t think so.”

”Well, then tell me your name, and I’ll scream it as much as you want.”

Locks of mussed hair fell over his forehead as the man shook his head, ignoring her small pout, but soothing the disappointment by giving her something else she’d wanted.

Again, he speared himself nice and deep. And again; and again, until her nails were carving crescents into the muscle of his back and he was whispering streams of filth into her ears between husky groans. Just when she was about to warn him of her rapidly approaching release, he had to go and stop — worst of all, he dragged his length out of her.

“You must be joking,” she panted.

A wicked grin told her she was in for it, and her thighs squeezed together in anticipation as he twirled his finger midair. “Oh, we’re not done. Sit up for me, love, and turn around. That’s it… now put your hands on the headboard.”

When her fingers curled around the solid chunk of wood, the bed dipped and creaked as he came up behind her, chest to spine and fingers curling over hers.

“Make sure you’re holding on tight.” Without warning, he ripped a sharp cry from her throat by driving back into her lonely heat until his hip bones dug into her ass and she swore she could see the night sky in that very room.

“Buggering hell —“ she blurted. This new angle was sure to be the end of her, and he was well aware of it from the delighted chuckle he huffed in her ear.

”You’ve got such a mouth on you for a lady… damned if I don’t love it.” The wizard panted with pride.

He wasn’t taking it easy on her any longer. The sheer force of his thrusts was enough to rock the bed frame against the wall; the thuds as the headboard struck exposed brick likely heard by everyone in the surrounding rooms (not that she had any room to care in her sex addled brain). It was enough to wring every last coherent thought from her, rendering her a shaking, mewling mess and unable to do anything but meet each snap of his hips with her own — while holding on for dear life.

“Oh, yes…” he was on his way to leaving bruises on her hip from the force of his steadying grip, but the sparks of pain only led her to greater pleasure.

Well-attuned to the signs of her mounting release as it threatened to overwhelm her for the third time, he released her hand to reach around and find her clit, abandoning the precision and prowess from before. Those dexterous fingers worked tirelessly, and coupled with the uneven little pants warming her neck between his kisses…

“I know you’re close, love,” he shuddered. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

He threw every last bit of his energy into shoving her over the edge; and as his cock prodded that spot inside of her once more, she gave in and fell apart under his hands. Every unbridled, broken sound that tumbled out as she rode through her orgasm was met with an encouraging whimper from the wizard. Just when the last bit of pleasure was wrung from her body, he pulled out with a groan, releasing ropes of warm seed over her backside and spine.

There he rested for a moment. While he caught his breath, the man’s hands traced the shape of her body, slipping in the essence coating her with a proud chuckle. “Evanesco.” he murmured, restoring her skin to its unmarred state.

“Are you…” he gulped in a lungful of sex-scented air. “Are you alright?”

“Brilliant.” She panted, letting go of the headboard to turn and rest her back against it instead. “You?”

It was an understatement, really: all that stress pounding between her temples and tension in her shoulders had disappeared. She felt spectacular.

“Never better.”

He sank back to his knees, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he admired her with a lazy grin. How she wished she could peel the satin from his cheeks to see that smile reach his dark eyes…

“Only wanted to make sure. You were getting quite loud.” The question seemed more taunt than anything.

Walking might prove difficult for the next couple of hours (at the least), and her hair was likely in a right state (along with her marked-up skin), but none of that mattered when the lingering rush instilled her with a rare lightness.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not at all. I was very much enjoying the sounds you made. Means I did my job well.”

She gave him a playful eye roll, rolling onto her side with the intention of returning to the solace of his arms before she realized — pillow talk and cuddling were sort of an unspoken faux pas when it came to casual encounters. Usually, her or her partners would leave the bed before the sweat had dried on their skin, and for once the expectation felt…lonely.

It truly struck her when he cleared his throat a moment later, gingerly untangling their weakened limbs to climb out of the bed seeking the various items of clothing discarded across the room.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyes darting to her before he located his pants. “Water, food..? Anything.”

Though appreciative, she waved his offer away with a quiet laugh. “I’ll be just fine. Though I’m sure I’ll need a hot bath at home.”

Sitting idly in bed while he already had a foot out the door picked at her pride, and so the Auror dragged herself out of it on trembling fawn’s legs. She managed to locate her underthings and slip them on before plucking her gown up from the floor.

“Oh,” a flash of gold caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve his trousers — as well as the shiny pocket watch that had evidently fallen out while they were distracted earlier. “Here, you don’t want to lose this.”

He was dragging his shirt over his bed head when she walked over to return it. She couldn’t help but admire the piece’s subtle artistry; the metal so perfectly preserved with intricate curling ivy etched into the rim of the case. Such a unique design…

So unique that she could easily recall seeing one just like it before.

And it, too, had been monogrammed with the letter S.

If he hadn’t snatched the watch out of her hand before the shock hit, she might have dropped and broken one of the last artifacts of the Sallow family.

Merlin, the irony of her asking for his name to say it in bed when she wanted to scream it in outrage now. And of course he had the audacity to take a step towards her, to soften his wide brown eyes (how had she looked into them and not known) and adopt an innocent frown; the one he had always used before begging for forgiveness.

She took a step back in turn and fixed him with a look that could have frozen the fire in the hearth. It was enough to confirm for him exactly what conclusion she’d reached.

“Blast it all, it is you.” He breathed.

“Sebastian?”

[ranticore]

in inver verse (inverse, if u will), what's the difference between a faerie and a god? it seems to be less a matter of innate difference, and more a matter of whether or not a given entity is socially acceptable to worship. the Immortal Hound is a god, the Puca is not, despite both seeming to be of a similar nature

and if this is true, does that mean that the Southern God is also a faerie?

actually i will answer this but it's a waffling nonanswer as is my custom

although the monarchy & upperclass of inver (and lower class ppl from the regions in the west like Moya, arranged along what were once ancient battle-lines between Inver's founding people) certainly have their own set of cultural practices, celebrations, and rituals, they would not describe kossith as a god nor think of him as one. for a definition of god as we would understand it (i.e let's take the prechristian irish pantheon for example since i guess that's an apt base state to compare against. it's not like that). although the practices are on the surface somewhat worshipful it is not worship, and neither is it mandatory for any citizen of inver loyal to the monarchy to do the same. you, random person, you are free to take or leave the Immortal Hound. it doesn't matter what you choose or how you think of him because your disbelief is not an existential threat.

people who are in some sort of contact with faeries exist on a spectrum from witch (active communication) to any random everyday person who leaves a set of iron tongs by a cradle to guard a baby. if you aren't a witch you wouldn't be considered to be associated with any one entity - the farmer who stops to turn his jumper inside-out to ward off any faeries who might trap him in a field isn't participating in an act of worship or even self-defence. that's just mundane common sense. anyone would do that.

it was not just the monotheism of the church of suzette that was originally considered so unacceptable that it was banned from entry to inver, but the thought of 'organised religion' in and of itself was kinda fucked to consider for even ordinary people of inver. by the 1860s there would be small enclaves of converts, particularly along the border with Aquitan (which is a theocracy after all), but they were poorly understood by their peers. "so it's just the one faery?" they'd ask. "And you're answering to a bishop instead?"

but god is not a faery, the converts insist

conceptualising 'the actual Christian god' as presented by the Suzette Church posed a problem to the uncivilised barbarians of Inver. "now hold on," they would say, "the leader of Aquitan is a bishop? not god?"

"no," the missionary would reply, "the bishop serves under the Throne, who is in communion with God."

"sure we could just talk to god ourselves then, cut out the middle men"

tying the Church to its medical services (and other philanthropic activities) was the only method by which it got any foothold at all in Inver. their miracle cure, penicillin, was considered on the same level as a witch's spell. "god did that, I suppose." but the dilution of Suzette's faith by the inevitable incorporation of Inver folk magic was also a reason for it not to spread too quickly there, and to guard the foothold it had without trying to step any further.

is there evidence for god? any fool could look outside and know faeries and their servants are real. god, though?

[thiswasneverthat]

him as your bestfriend (who's secretly in love with you.)

happy belated birthday, sweetest christopher.

First and foremost, the term 'secretly in love with you' didn't quite apply to Chris.

It was not because he ever vocalized his affection; but rather, the poor guy's emotions weren't the type that could easily be concealed. There were times when the heat would slowly creep up his cheeks at the moment you unconsciously grabbed his arm during movie night; or when you simply sit a little bit too close to him.

From the very moment you crossed paths in college, your lives became intertwined. Fast forward a few years, and even in the professional world when the two of you worked at the same company, nothing had altered. You and Chris remained inseparable, like two puzzle pieces that had found their perfect fit.

All along, you were acutely aware of his feelings for you. It wasn't like he was the master of subtlety, despite his best intentions. He convinced himself that his emotions were a well-kept secret, solely because he never uttered a word about them.

But, oh, the truth was far from his perception.

Your mutual friends, the ones who witnessed the sparks fly whenever you two were together, were not as oblivious as he thought. They quietly shared knowing glances behind your backs, exchanging unspoken truths that floated in the air, forming an invisible thread of connection between you and this affectionate but seemingly covert admirer.

Knowing Chris for years had granted you an unparalleled understanding, almost as though you possessed a special ability to read him like an open book. It was in the subtle nuances, the unspoken gestures, and the way his eyes lingered on you just a moment longer than anyone else. The way he uttered your name held a unique cadence, a tenderness that set it apart from the rest of the world.

His actions also spoke volumes, a silent declaration of his affection. From those daily post-work rides that ended at your doorstep to the steaming cup of coffee that appeared magically in your hands each morning, even though he was no coffee aficionado himself. As if it was the most natural thing, he wove his affection into your everyday life.

And then there were the moments of solace where he held you close when tears welled in your eyes, offering hushed comfort when words fell short. On holidays, Chris became your reliable chauffeur, ensuring you reached your parents' house with ease.

But perhaps the defining moment was when he stepped inㅡ a knight in modern armor, to protect you from the advances of an unruly drunkard during a night out with friends. It was in these moments, when his affection for you transcended mere words and blossomed into the unspoken verse of actions.

Well.. How endearingly oblivious he was.

He carried this fallacy that by keeping his feelings unspoken, they would remain a well-guarded secret. 

More often than not, you also found yourself yearning for a different script, one where Chris would step out of his best friend persona and take the role of someone more than that.

You really couldn't help but wish he would just muster up the courage to articulate those elusive words, breaking free from the confines of the 'best friend' charade that he maintained with such dedication for years. 

The frustration, like a relentless drumbeat, echoed within you because you had lost count of the times you teetered on the edge of confessing your own feelings.

However, in the grand scheme of things, you were very much aware of the added layers of complexity. The cliché was undeniable: you wanted him just as fervently, if not more so. Yet, your hesitation served as a sentinel against reckless decisions.

You understood the profound risk involved. The weight of the question lingered in your mind like a persistent echo: was it worth jeopardizing the treasured friendship you shared for the possibility of something more like.. love?

Because the fear loomed largeㅡ that one day, if the tides turned unfavorably, your beautifully woven friendship with him might fray and unravel.

And more than you would like to admit, the mere thought of losing him shattered you into a gazillion pieces.

So, until the time you would be ready, or until that one point where you just really couldn't take it anymore, you convinced yourself to put on a smile and pretend to be blissfully oblivious as he was. 

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 12

Part 11

Last Time: Steve's struggling with Eddie being back in town, and Dustin just tries his best to help

~~~

Eddie’s been in Chicago for almost three months and Jeff’s only called once. They’d chatted for a few minutes before Eddie spilled all the beans about Steve. Jeff wasn’t all that surprised, which surprised Eddie in return, and when he told Jeff as much, his friend laughed. “It was only a matter of time, Eddie.” And he’d said it with such grace that Eddie felt the anxiety slough from his shoulders. Either with or without him, the band would be fine. 

Now, Eddie’s learned to savor the casual routine he and Dustin have established over the past month. It’s been nice, relaxing– normal.

While Dustin spends his days working from his home office upstairs, Eddie cooks, cleans, and avoids calls from his manager. Somedays Nancy and Jonathan invite him over for dinner. He’s also started meandering the neighborhood, discovering all the reasons Dustin picked here to settle down. Around the corner is a small game store which hosts DnD nights on Wednesdays and Magic the Gathering tournaments on Saturdays. It’s next door to a record shop and a small cafe that serves the best cranberry orange muffins Eddie’s ever tasted.

He’s starting to gain some of the weight back he lost, so the small amount of clothes he brought with him are starting to dig in. Dustin says it’s thanks to the home cooked meals and down time, now that he’s not partying every night. Cooking is another part of everyday living Eddie’s come to love. Steve had done all the cooking before, not just because Eddie didn’t know how, but because Steve genuinely enjoyed it. He doesn’t think his skills will ever be that good, but that doesn’t matter much. Eddie’s already halfway through a cookbook and hasn’t felt this proud of himself since he learned how to play.

It’s well into April when Dustin suggests renovating the downstairs guest bedroom into a temporary recording studio. Eddie considers it for a grand total of three hours before he calls his manager– much to their relief– to have his guitars and equipment shipped from LA on the promise of starting a new solo album. By the time it arrived, the room’s sound proofed with mounted wall hooks for each of his sweethearts. He’s also furnished it with a few plush couches and a black leather barstool beneath the hanging microphone.

This is where Eddie sits now, headphones pulled up and plugged in, his old-school acoustic swung across his back as he leans over a notebook scribbling out the lyrics falling muffled from his lips. He hums the melody, repeating the last verse to himself when there’s a soft poke on his shoulder. Startled, Eddie shouts and barely manages to catch his guitar before he tumbles off the barstool on top of it. Loose sheets scatter across the floor as he fumbles the notebook. He gathers as much as he can, but when he stands, he finds Dustin scanning some before he can snatch them away.

“Those are private, dude,” Eddie exclaims, shoving them unceremoniously into his pocket. Hopefully later he’ll be able to make out the writing through the wrinkles. 

“Yeah, seems like it,” Dustin replies. He avoids eye contact, shuffling back and forth, and picks at his fingernails. “So, are those–”

“New songs.”

“–breakup songs?”

Eddie sighs, rubs his hands down his face. Dustin’s eyes are on him when Eddie moves his hands away. He feels seen, overly scrutinized, much in the same way Max and Nancy first looked at him. Dustin’s the only kid who’ll talk to him, but Eddie’s been living here for two months now and on some level, it feels like they haven’t talked about anything. Stuff like what’s for dinner, shopping lists, TV shows, video games. Things that don’t really matter.

The studio’s suddenly claustrophobic, but as Eddie moves towards the door, a half-hearted bullshit reason to leave stuck in his throat, Dustin steps in front of him.

“You know Steve’s happy, right?”

Ok so they’re talking about it. Eddie’s been anticipating this since the phone call, but is still unprepared for the solid earnestness scrawled across Dustin’s face.

“Yeah, Nancy told me everything. About all of it.” Eddie crosses his arms, can’t help hunching in on himself. Big, loud, and obnoxious never worked around Dustin, who could match him step-for-step. And after his initial conversation with Nancy, all Eddie wants to do is hide– preferably here in Dustin’s basement. “She takes care of him, she’s practically obsessed with him, wants kids– the whole package.”

Bitterness coats his tongue, and Dustin doesn’t miss his seething tone. 

“She likes sports too,” Dustin adds, defensive. The kid’s always stood up to bullies to protect the people he loves. He used to do that for Eddie. Now Eddie’s alone on the opposite side of a chasm, wondering why he never considered what kind of relationship Dustin could have with Becky. 

“Nancy mentioned something about sports journalism.”

“Becky gets press tickets and front row seats. They go to Blackhawks and Cubs games all the time.” Tone rising, Dustin’s cheeks are flushed, hands clenched at his sides.

“That’s–” Eddie starts, but is interrupted.

“Has he called you?” Dustin shouts at him.

Eddie freezes, body coiled tight and ready to run, but also horribly, devastatingly confused.

“What?” Cold sweats break out down his spine, his hands tingle with tiny pinpricks. “Dustin, I don’t–” he wheezes, swallowing around the dryness in his mouth. “No, we haven’t talked at all.”

“Good. Right, yeah– that’s good.” Even though Dustin’s impeding stance doesn’t change, his tone is laced with uncertainty. 

“I swear,” Eddie pleads.

“I believe you,” Dustin heaves a great, heavy sigh, his body slumps. “Just– please don’t answer if he calls. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Eddie can’t help the snap of irritation. “Why?”

“Uhh,” Dustin’s voice drags out, dripping with defensive sarcasm that has Eddie deflating, “maybe because he’s planning a wedding with his new fiance and his ex showed back up out of fucking no where.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. I’m sorry.” Regret and shame crawl under his skin.

“You keep saying that, but it still doesn’t feel true.” 

His eyes are hot, the panic of confrontation bubbles up through his grief. “I want it to be true, Dustin, I’m trying to make it true. I know nothing I do will ever make up for what I’ve put you all through, but– fuck.” Eddie wipes at his misted eyes. “I’d give up everything if I had to. Everything I have, all the money and clothes, the parties and the awards. I’d grovel and I’d–”

He doubles over on a long exhale that lurches from his chest unrestrained. Eddie grounds himself by counting the checkered pattern on Dustin’s socks until his breathing evens out. 

“I’d give up Steve.” He almost vomits as the words leave his mouth, and at that moment he can’t tell if it’s the truth or not. “I just want my family again, Dustin– you and Nancy and Mike. I don’t want to be alone anymore. And if he’s truly happy with her, I don’t want to hurt him. He deserves to be happy, even if that means I never see him again.”

He stands up and sees Dustin’s crying now, soaking the tears into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Years or minutes or days pass as he waits for Dustin to answer, to say fucking anything after Eddie just carved himself open and spilled his guts on the floor. He can’t imagine never seeing Steve again, never hearing the sound of his laugh or grazing his hands against the moles on his neck. 

Except if Steve’s actually happy– truly down-to-the-marrow-of-his-bones happy– like Dustin says, Eddie can’t stand in the way of that. He won’t. He’s already hurt his baby so much, he won’t ruin the rest of his life too.

The realization tips Eddie’s world on its axis, the foundation of his life crumbing beneath him. As he does his best to reorient himself, Dustin scoffs a wet chuckle. “There’s going to be so much groveling. Like, a shit ton of groveling.”

A wide, relieved grin breaks out across Eddie’s tear stained face as Dustin smirks. The tone is teasing, but they both know he means it. Eddie wasn’t lying, he’ll grovel on the ground until his knees are soaked in blood. Giving up Steve feels wrong to the depths of his soul, but he’ll do it. Eddie’s not promising he’ll move on, but he can let go. He’ll do whatever it takes to earn the love and respect of his family, and he’s willing to rebuild his entire life to do it. Reconstruct it into something softer, more mundane and normal and utterly filled with a new kind of love.

And when Dustin pulls him into a hug and squeezes the air from Eddie’s lungs, he can’t help but feel overjoyed at the thought he’s already started.

~~~

Part 13

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21 @jaytriesstrangerthings @thewickedkat

@stripey82 @a-lovely-craziness

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Any fics that have Fresh as a main/important character? I would prefer angst but I know it’s slim pickings with Fresh already

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Sweet Sweet Swagger (After Dark) by MissPawTastic (Mature, Incomplete)

When a 90s jester skeleton one day decide to skedaddle himself into your everyday life casually without hinderance - you don’t know what to make of it at first. Living life in a world where the closest thing to a ’real-life’ skeleton appearing before you is only during Halloween - the very impossibility of his eccentric appearance and over the top personality pulls you slowly in. Having being dealt a bad hand with existing and simply living lately due to a difficult personal loss, you warily assumes he wants something from you with this ’forced’ friendship. But the more time passes in his company, the more you realize that - perhaps he genuinely just wants to be your friend despite your differences? And why does it feel like he knows things you’ve never told anyone before about yourself so… easily? …Tho, why is he so adamant about never taking those shades off..? *A feel-good story about the values of friendship, laughter, the gift of living and possibly the meaning of having a Soul.*(Rating may change later on)

Fresh New Antivirus by Hidden_Ajinn (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Fresh is Admin of the Multiverse!? This can't end well ... or can it? This is an alternate universe - er, multiverse - where Fresh is responsible for the monitoring and disciplining of Players and Hackers as well as hunting down and eradicating any virus or external threat to the multiverses balance systems. Now what's this about some unrad lady called Fate? Welcome to Admin Fresh Verse (AFV for short i guess lol) *** FGoD concept by Harrash6 Characters belong to their respective owners Undertale by Toby Fox

Two Worlds One Family by Scared_of_styrofoam (General Audiences, Complete)

In the Momma CQ universe, a different set of Error's, Ink's, and other characters exist. Fresh and Error were having a fight when Fresh's magic ended up pulling them all into a portal. While Fresh was always aware of the potential variants of himself and his family, he had steered clear up until now. He steered clear because it was dangerous. Even meeting their counterparts is dangerous, although that's exactly what is going to happen. Things are not exactly what they seem though. Their older selves have many issues that align with their own. Maybe they can help each other?

Why Me? by InkyOverlord (Teen And Up, Complete)

out of everyone in the school,why in world would Fresh befriend a bully? after all bullies never change can they?

The Parasite's Pyjamas by InkyOverlord (Mature, Complete)

Fresh ends up stuck in a mafiatale AU, all is not lost as a crime leader known as the 'Puppetmaster' takes a liking to them and offers them to work for him. At this point they can't say no.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Kinktober day 14: Master/Slave /Claiming Servant, Diavolo + Barbatos (branding, treating servant like property, pain play, no real smut)

-

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” You asked, carefully adjusting the restraints around Barbatos’ wrist. “If this is an important tradition, I don’t want to butcher it-“

Diavolo interrupted you. “Don’t worry, it’s different when a human does this verses a demon, if you make mistakes there’s no consequences especially given how well trained Barbatos is.” Diavolo ruffled his hair, speaking about his servant like he’s a dog.

“Thank you, young Master.” Barbatos replied quietly, looking ip to you. “You needn’t worry, I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t want it, I want you both to officially be my Masters.”

To think…he’s saying it so calmly when you’re basically going to claim ownership over him along side Diavolo. You carefully adjust to remove his collar, revealing the pale skin underneath. “Do I need to actually leave a mark? Even for a demon this has gotta hurt.”

Barbatos nodded. Diavolo was the one who responded. “It’s to symbolize that he cant leave you, the mark can be healed with magic, but he’ll probably want to keep it, right?”

Barbatos excitedly nodded. “Somewhere I can see it please? I wish to see it everyday.” You don’t miss the smile that goes across his face.

You look him over, his shoulder is too visible, he cant see it if it’s on his back…maybe thigh? “Here?” Your foot nudges his outer thigh. He nodded, quickly undoing his belt and pants and pulling them down just to his knees.

Like this his boxers were exposed, leaving little to the imagination though you’ve seen him naked before. “Leave the iron on his thigh for thirty to sixty seconds, remember he has a safe word if it’s too much.” Diavolo chimed in.

Barbatos braced as soon as you picked the branding iron up. You were wanted to let it cook for a second but if it cooled too much, you’d have to do it again. You press it to his thigh with not much pressure, testing the waters briefly.

He hissed but actually leans into it. “H-harder.” He hissed out with clear discomfort in his tone. “if you don’t use enough pressure, it w-won’t stay.” Barbatos groaned out.

Diavolo grabs your hand, putting enough weight into the iron that made you feel like you’d cause him bruising. To your surprise though, there was a visible tent forming in his boxers.

“See? He likes it.” Diavolo hummed out, notifying you that enough time has passed. You hesitate to pull away now that you know it’s arousing him.

“You enjoyed being marked?” Barbatos nodded, collapsing as soon as you released him. He was panting fast, to your confusion there was a wet spot where his cock head was resting in his boxers. “Shit it looks like you peed yourself a bit.” You nudge his arousal with your foot and earn a moan.

Diavolo checked Barbatos’ branding, grabbing one of the water bottles put aside and pouring it over the wound. Barbatos yelped, jumping a bit before relaxing enough that Diavolo could clean the wound. “Want to keep this?”

Diavolo asked Barbatos, who in turn moaned out a ‘yes’.

[hurkules]

Gale Headcanons with some NSFW ones below the cut

He loves kissing. He will never be a peck and go kind of man. Every kiss is deep and full of love. He’ll kiss your hands, your arms, your neck, your legs, your stomach, your back, and especially your lips. The two of you get carried away quite easily and before you know it, it’s been an hour of just kissing

Gale loves when you play in his hair. Whether you’re mindlessly running your fingers through it and massaging his scalp or purposely find your way into it during more intimate moments, he loves it. His eyes instantly close and he’ll hum (or moan) in pleasure

He’s touchy. Somehow, someway, he will touch you. Holding hands is fine and lovely, but he’d rather link arms or have his hands around your waist. If you’re leaning into him, he’s satisfied

Speaking of touching, he loves having you in his lap.

Gale is sickeningly romantic. He’s all about grand gestures and professions of love. Nearly everyday he finds a new way to say “I love you.”

He likes to lay on your chest especially after s rough day. In the past, he’d spend his time poking around in the library or cooking his feelings out. Now, he’ll crawl into your arms and lay his head against your chest

He always brings you back little gifts and trinkets. “I passed this on the way home from the academy, and I thought you’d love it” he’ll say with a grin

Since being in waterdeep, you’ve taken up baking. As a result, he’s started to gain a little weight. He’d never complain about it because everything is delicious, he’s glad you’ve found something to enjoy (he was worried about leaving you in the tower alone so often), it’s a simple fix, and he’d never turn down something from you especially when you’ve worked so hard

He shows you off. If you make him lunch, he’ll go around showing everyone what his lovely partner made. He jumps at the chance to introduce you as his wife/husband

He’s a crier. He cries at the wedding. He cries on the honeymoon. Sometimes, he cries just thinking back. He’ll hug you and through tears he’ll admit “I’m so grateful to you. I was a man long gone, and, somehow, you brought me back.”

He’s not a good dancer but he never resists when you pull him towards you giggling. When he noticed how much you love dancing, he does practice in private with a mirror image. After a while, he can follow along with you pretty well.

He unironically does a big dip and kiss and often.

Yes, he will make love to you in front of the fireplace and the piano will play a melody in the background.

He will also make love to you on the balcony. If you’re well versed in magic, you’ll cast a spell so one can see or hear you. If you’re not, he’ll cast the spell. At night under the full moon is your favorite. He’s more than happy to pleasure you any time of day, but his favorite time is at sunset. He just thinks you look so incredibly beautiful in the light with how the sun reflects off your skin

The two of you will never make love at the academy but he will definitely sit you on his desk and make his way between your legs. He’ll lock the door and cast the silence spell from before and he’s going in

We all know that when it comes to intimacy, he’s more of a giver than receiver. The man loves being between your legs. He hates quickies because he likes to take his time and admire you. He wants you to feel as much pleasure ad possible and quickies feel disrespectful. It feels like you’re a toy to be used and discarded, and you mean so much more to him than that. Despite that, he will find time to make you see stars from oral, give you a long loving kiss, and then return to whatever he was doing, elated that you’re satisfied

He loves all of you equally but he is a boob guy. Wear a low cut a shirt and he’s tripping over his words and struggling to maintain eye contact.

He can’t hide his attraction and he’s not ashamed of it. Even with this, he always asks permission. A gentle “May I?” while kissing you before moving to your neck. A breathless “is this okay?” as he’s lowering himself and kissing your legs.

Sex is slow and gentle with Gale. He likes to take his time with you, so nothing is ever hard and fast. If you wanted something rougher all you’d have to do is ask but it’s not his first instinct.

He’s pretty vocal during intimacy. He grunts, groans, and the occasional moan. Mostly, he talks. He for sure talks you through it and loves complimenting you throughout the whole ordeal.

[fadeawaywithyou]

inspired by the new minecraft movie trailer and how it reminds me of a shit jumanji, here is my take on the minecraft plot. this took me like 5-10 minutes, so it's not super serious.

I actually want to try spitballing a better plot in about five minutes-

Unnamed Man in Blue and Unnamed Woman in Green wake up in a forest and meet each other while exploring. Anyway, the Plot is killing the ender dragon. Why? It's the most basic thing about minecraft. The achievement is literally called "free the end" so maybe flesh out why. So, the plot is Gather Materials, Find Stronghold, Defeat Ender Dragon, and the end scene is them looking out into the world and talking about going on other adventures. In the movie they come across a variety of monsters, but specifically a Warden and Wither. The Warden could be a genuinely scary chase scene where they don't kill it. Maybe they have to summon the wither as part of a beacon fetch quest.

The movie has lots of references to minecraft community things. minecraft youtubers and developers act as cameos in people they meet. "don't dig straight down" is on a sign near a cave/town's quarry. Maybe they find books similar to those survival guides i saw in all the scholastic book fairs. Have someone hum Don't Mine At Night or go "awww man" when a creeper explodes. Have a reclusive but friendly town of "hermits" (hermitcraft). maybe you pass by someone saying "the aether is just a conspiracy/myth!" just, things the community of all ages will recognize and go "hey! the thing!"

other:

They decide on the names Steve and Alex themselves, idk when though. The nicknames of Green and Blue between them can stick around. Also while i'm here, idc about romance. have them be friends, or partners by the end, or implied whatever.

I want Steve and Alex to have a personality but also have a generic backstory for the "blank slate" appeal and function of their in-game selves. I have a couple ideas- amnesia or being an everyday person, for example. maybe they are orphans, idk. Waking up in a forest is all i'm set on because that could be the equivalent of "spawning in."

I also have a fun idea where it could be an entirely implied Isekai. ("implied" is the keyword because it's never admitted and the only canonical dimensions are the nether, overworld, and end.) Not like the movie, where you aparently watch them get Isekai-ed, but with how they react to Tree Physics, magic, monsters, etc. and people going "you're not from around here, are you" and/or "how do you not know what X is? have you been living under a rock?" (which would then introduce the audience to minecraft concepts and exposition.)

they live in a "post-age of heres" world where it could be implied that the Old People who build all the strongholds and shit are long dead and they disappeared going after the dragon. this immediately puts an added sense of danger to the quest. also an underdog story.

i also would like a reason WHY Blue and Green can defeat the dragon while the others can't beyond "they are the main characters." this could be the new thing the movie brings in, like a new enchantment or making netherite something the Old People didn't have but necessary? idk, this could go into "movie-verse" logic and doesn't necessarily have to be in-direct canon to the game.

you know those characters that minecraft made a while ago? like the different races and genders? those skins could be characters in the movies.

the soundtrack does have the most popular minecraft sounds, in-game sound effects are used, but maybe some "movie remixes" or maybe they pay and jump through hoops to have Revenge playing for the end Credits.

also this is all animated. embrace animation.

[ashreclaimed]

I'M GETTING TIRED EVEN FOR A PHOENIX, ALWAYS RISING FROM THE ASHES, MENDING ALL HIS GASHES.

paul mescal, homosexual, cis male + he/him/his → isn’t that ryker feinhalnaar? i’ve seen them wearing the crest of varlinnis. i hear they’re 29, but they’re also a sorcerer. they’ve risen up the ranks to become the youngest prince of varlinnis. they seem to be compassionate & tenacious, but also stubborn & naïve. if you look closely, you’ll see their aesthetics include long days training in the art of fighting and magic, resulting in sweat, grime and grit dirtying armours and clothes; hidden trips out of the castle walls into the city; dipping fingers into other people's pockets.

ryker feinhalnaar. 29. compassionate, tenacious. stubborn, naïve.

elemental and combat magic.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: [ RYKER AODEN UVEVRINAS FEINHALNAAR ] NICKNAME: [ RY, RYKE, UV ] TITLE: [ YOUNGEST PRINCE OF VARLINNIS, RYKER THE RESILIENT ] AGE: [ 29 ] GENDER: [ MALE ] PRONOUNS: [ HE/HIM ] SPECIES: [ SORCERER ] KINGDOM, HOUSE, SEAT: [ VARLINNIS, HOUSE FEINHALNAAR, ATÓGTHALNAAR ] HOUSE WORDS: [ FROM CINDERS WE RECLAIM ] DESCENDED FROM: [ HOUSE FYNWYRIEL ] OCCUPATION: [ PRINCE, WARRIOR, SORCERER ] RELIGION: [ THE FLAMED BIRD ] LANGUAGE, IN ORDER OF PROFICIENCY: [ COMMON, VARIOUS OTHER LANGUAGES ] ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: [ HOMOROMANTIC ] SEXUAL ORIENTATION: [ HOMOSEXUAL ] SEXUAL TEMPERAMENT: [ SWITCH-DOM ] SEXUAL POSITION: [ TOP ]

RELATIONSHIPS

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: [ TBD. ] PARENTS: [ KING EAGAN FEINHALNAAR, QUEEN ADARA. ] SIBLINGS: [ MALIK NIAMH FEINHALNAAR. ] FRIENDS: [ DARIUS SKYWARDEN. ]

PHYSICAL TRAITS

FACE CLAIM: [ PAUL MESCAL ] EYE COLOUR: [ BLUE, GLOWS DIFFERENTLY DEPENDING ON MAGIC USE ] HAIR COLOUR: [ BROWN ] HEIGHT: [ 1.81 METRES ] BODY BUILD: [ ATHLETIC, BUFF ] FACIAL HAIR: [ TRIMMED SCRUFF CENTRED AROUND THE MOUTH, EXTENDING TO THE SIDE OF HIS FACE. SLIGHTLY THICKER MOUSTACHE. ] TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: [ TWO EARLOOPS ON HIS RIGHT EARLOBE. ] NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: [ VARIOUS SCARS FROM TRAINING AND MOCK BATTLES. ]

PHOBIAS AND DISORDERS

PHOBIAS/FEARS: [ tba. ] MENTAL DISORDERS: [ MAYBE SLIGHT UNDIAGNOSED ADHD. ]

PERSONALITY

INTELLIGENCE: [ INTELLIGENT. MORE BATTLE SMART THAN PEOPLE SMART. WELL-VERSED IN HISTORY. ] LIKES: [ FIGHTING. USING MAGIC FOR EVERYDAY LIFE. PICKPOCKETING. THE COOL NIGHT BREEZE. ALCOHOL. ] DISLIKES: [ BEING TRAPPED WITHIN THE CASTLE WALLS. BOREDOM. EXTRAVAGANT PARTIES. ] ALIGNMENT: [ CHAOTIC GOOD ] POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES: [ COMPASSIONATE, TENACIOUS. ] NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES: [ STUBBORN, NAÏVE, CAREFREE. ]

COMBAT INFORMATION

WEAPONS: [ SWORDS. SHIELDS. ] POWERS: [ MAGIC, CHIEFLY ELEMENTAL AND COMBAT. ]

AESTHETICS

AESTHETICS: [ LONG DAYS TRAINING IN THE ART OF FIGHTING AND MAGIC, RESULTING IN SWEAT, GRIME AND GRIT DIRTYING ARMOURS AND CLOTHES; HIDDEN TRIPS OUT OF THE CASTLE WALLS INTO THE CITY; DIPPING FINGERS INTO OTHER PEOPLE'S POCKETS. CLIMBING WALLS AND ROOFTOPS TO WATCH THE MOON AND/OR SUNRISE. ] INSPO: [ ROBB STARK. PANTO TROST. ] LYRICAL INSPO: [ ALL MY FLOWERS GREW BACK AS THORNS, WINDOWS BOARDED UP AFTER THE STORM, HE BUILT A FIRE JUST TO KEEP ME WARM. // THERE WILL COME A SOLDIER WHO CARRIES A MIGHTY SWORD. HE WILL TEAR YOUR CITY DOWN, OH-LEI, OH-LAI, OH, LORD. // AND LIKE THE DAWN YOU BROKE THE DARK AND MY WHOLE EARTH SHOOK. // AND WHEN THEY BREAK YOUR HEART, AND WHEN THEY CAUSE YOUR SOUL TO MOURN. REMEMBER WHAT I SAID, "BOY, YOU WAS BATTLE BORN." // YOU STEAL THE AIR OUT OF MY LUNGS, YOU MAKE ME FEEL IT. ]

KINKS

KINKS: [ BREEDING. COLLARS. LEASHES. VERBAL FEMINISATION. BOOT KISSING/LICKING. PUBLIC. CHOKING. HUMILIATION. DEGRADATION. SOMNOPHILIA. WATERSPORTS. FACE FUCKING. COCK WARMING. WORSHIP. PRAISE. GAPING. FINGERS IN OTHER PEOPLE'S ORIFICES. MARKING. AFFECTION. AFTERCARE. ] ANTI-KINKS: [ VORE. SCAT. INFANTILISM. ]

BIOGRAPHY

born during a windy red moon night, it was said that the queen's bed caught fire for the briefest of moments. it rained heavily for a whole day after... during a period of no rain in the year.

has been training and honing both his fighting skills and his magical talent since he was a child, becoming somewhat of a protégé.

as the youngest, even though he was thought about the world, he is a still a little naïve in his worldviews, believing in the general good of people.

with his position as the youngest, he is also carefree and a little rebellious, enjoying secret trips into the city without his guards... bar one most of the time.

he can be so soft towards people he cares for.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello, I wanted to ask if you know any games where magic system isn't that diverse? I mean, I like magic but it seems in most of games everyone can have tons of different spells which is a bit overwhelming for me, so is there any game where magic user could use only one type of magic like fire, water, illusion etc?

Theme: Specific Magic

Hello friend, I've got a few games for you here. All of these games come from very different houses of design. I hope you find a fit that is right for you!

Weave, by UFO Press.

A game about fashion, travel and everyday magic. You are mages who draw power from fabric, threads and garments. Your search for mystical power will take you to new lands and new cultures.

Fall in love with a local. Drink too much at a festival. Get entangled in town politics. Summon a spirit of yarn and tradition. Bargain for power, and try not to cause irreversible harm to your host culture.

Learn responsibility.

You've lived your entire life in the enclaves of your cult - until now. As a coming-of-age rite, you're travelling the world. You'll visit new cultures, find out why they value the fashion they do, and summon the spirits of garments to learn magical secrets. You're only novices, and things won't always go well. You might fall in love, get involved in local politics, or overindulge at a festival. When you summon spirits, be careful. You might twist them into a rampaging monster, or destroy the culture's relationship with the garment. What right do you have to power?  

This is a diceless game focused on fabric-magic. The character sheet contains a series of threads dedicated to “protects”, “Conceals” “suffices” and “reveals,” as well as three abilities called Traditions. There’s also a number of areas drawn as blank graphs, for you to fill in glyphs.

I don’t own this game, so I can’t tell you how it works but the loops on the character sheet and the presence of the graphs tell me that you likely have limited resources, and you’ll also be expected to create your own magic. It looks like there’s plenty of possibilities within the magic system here, but limiting how you can use it in the form of glyphs tells me that this might be a game that is specific enough to provide limitations for creativity.

Sordid Truths of Fire, by Shouting Crow.

You are a pyromancer, an avatar of flame. Kleptothermic parasites have frozen your world.You must walk the line between fire and flame-- feeding off of and transforming into the things which feed off of your energy-- without losing your sense of self in the drifting snow.

Sordid Truths of Fire is a classless, rules-lite TTRPG. It uses a roll-under system and is basically the bastard child of games like Tunnel Goons and The Black Hack.

This game is for the OSR lovers out there. With three base stats and a roll-under mechanic, character creation is fairly simple. I especially like the events that happen when you roll a 1 or a 20. Rolling a 1 grants you burnout. A little bit of burnout isn’t too bad, but accrue too much, and cannot cast magic. You do, however, gain the features of a creature called a walking torch. Rolling a 20 grants you a point of frostbite - which also takes away your magic, and grants you the features of a monster called a Heat Vampire. You can sacrifice points in your stats to save yourself, and gain points when you roll just right. Will you burn too brightly or get snuffed out?

Nancy Druid, by 9th Level Games.

In Nancy Druid, you will play as a druid scout who solves mysteries along with a trusty animal companion! Your magic is drawn from the natural world, the day-night cycle, and the turning of the seasons.

Will you be a sun druid, who brings brightness and a warm glow to all, with the help of your scout troop's companion critter? Or will you be a moon druid, versed in all things celestial and able to transform into an animal yourself?

The Polymorph system assigns different kinds of dice to roles, based on the character you have. Your role determines what kinds of things you are more likely to succeed at, giving clear strengths and weaknesses among players. This system usually also eschews lists of abilities or catalogues of spells in favor of a special ability that expects you to fill in the blanks.

In Extremis, by Keganexe.

In Extremis is a tabletop roleplaying game designed for 2-6 players, about fighting back the man using necromancy, that uses the LUMEN system by Spencer Campbell. Inspired by The Locked Tomb trilogy, players take on the role of exceptionally powerful witches who use their mastery of life, death, and the human condition to keep them and their own safe from other planetary invaders who want to steal their land. As a Necromancer, you are one of a handful of hideously powerful death witches that protect the planet Hecate, the final holdout for The Coven, from the ever encroaching war of the Corvus Dominion. 

This is a game for feeling like a badass. Every character option uses a different kind of necromancy, but you only really need to worry about your character. You get 3 stats: Muscle, Bone and Nerve. You get a passive and active social spell, a list of combat spells, and a weapon. The setting takes place on a galaxy-wide scale, as the game is heavily inspired by Gideon the Ninth. Your source of your magic is a resource called Wells: necromancers only have so many, but the amount you have at any given time is dependant on the phase of the moon. If you want your magic to be gritty and used in high-stakes situations where death is everywhere, this is the game for you.

[theromanticslit]

The Alchemy of Passion: Romanticizing the Art of Being Alive

In the tapestry of our existence, threads of passion weave patterns both delicate and profound. To romanticize one’s passions is to view life through a lens of wonder and enchantment, to dance with the very essence of our pursuits as if they were stars in our personal constellation. It’s an act of alchemy—transforming the mundane into the extraordinary, the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Imagine passion as a garden, its soil rich with the dreams and desires that sprout from within. Each seed planted is a venture into the heart of what we love. When we tend to these seeds with care, they bloom into vibrant expressions of who we are. To romanticize this process is to recognize the beauty in each bud, each leaf, each blossom, even as it begins to unfurl.

In this garden of the soul, passion is not merely a pursuit but a poetic dialogue between the self and the world. It’s a conversation held in the quiet of dawn, when the first light kisses the earth and reveals the hidden hues of our inner landscape. It’s in this silence that the true romance of our passions is whispered—an ode to the beauty of our endeavors and the grace they bestow upon us.

To romanticize is to see beyond the surface, to savor the subtleties and nuances that might otherwise escape our notice. It’s to perceive the rhythm in the act of creation, the heartbeat behind the brushstroke, the melody in the written word. When we embrace our passions with this perspective, we become lovers of our own lives, each moment a tender exploration of what it means to be deeply and authentically engaged.

Consider the poet who gazes upon a blank page not as a mere canvas, but as a sacred space where dreams and musings coalesce into verses that breathe with life. Or the painter who regards their palette not as a collection of colors, but as a universe of emotions waiting to be expressed. Each artist, in their romantic embrace of their craft, transforms their work into a reflection of their deepest selves.

Romanticizing our passions means allowing ourselves to be fully immersed in the joy of our pursuits. It’s in the way we lose ourselves in a book’s labyrinth, the way we find solace in the cadence of our own footsteps as we wander through our favorite haunts. It’s in the quiet reverence of moments spent with our passions, where time seems to pause and the ordinary becomes a portal to the sublime.

This perspective invites us to celebrate not just the triumphs but also the trials along the way. It’s about savoring the journey as much as the destination, finding poetry in the process of becoming rather than merely achieving. The struggle, the labor, the moments of doubt—all become part of a grander narrative, a love story written with the ink of persistence and the grace of vulnerability.

Romanticizing your passions is, ultimately, an invitation to live with an open heart and a curious mind. It’s to be a connoisseur of your own joy, to revel in the act of creation, and to cherish every step along the path of your unique journey. It’s about seeing the magic in the mundane, finding beauty in the everyday, and letting your passions illuminate the way.

So, let us walk with reverence through the garden of our desires, let us dance with the rhythms of our creative hearts, and let us romance our passions as though they were the most precious of loves. For in this romantic embrace, we find the truest expression of who we are and the fullest experience of what it means to be alive.

-by The Romantics

[on-stardust-wings]

Findings from watching the season two opening. Here be spoilers if you haven’t seen it, begone all who seek to avoid those.

Crowley climbs up the rock (and does not look like he enjoys climbing much). Does that mean demons can’t fly? Crowley in particular can’t fly?

There is a moth (butterfly) that starts flying with Crowley and Aziraphale when Crowley lights the match. It’s the first creature that accompanies them. Is it important?

The fuck is this thing. I thought it’s an elephant first? With a trunk? But it’s on fire. Could just be a rock? Whatever it is, the angel with the box (Gabriel?) spawns right behind it. I would say portal to Hell, but angels don’t commonly come out of those. Or do they now? Anyway mysterious fiery thing.

There’s also a bunch of animals in the background of this setting. They seem to be mostly sheep and goats. And there’s huge bones/skeletons. Dinosaurs are fictional in the Good Omens verse, though. (Something about the dinosaurs are a joke thing? Please let it be something about dinosaurs being a joke, I love this bit.)

It’s raining fire and the poor goats and sheep get torched. :( Looking pretty apocalyptic for a season that (maybe) isn’t about the end of the world this time!

There’s the pickled herring from the spoiler/bts pics! And this person looks like Hastur IMO. “Everyday” apparently already died; it’s on a tombstone. What is the person in the back (behind the herring barrel) carrying? A miniature airplane? A rocket launcher? A big camera?

And THEN there’s the lamp with a face and feet guy, walking in front of the person with the headscarf. WTF is with lamp with a face guy. Lamp with a face guy even has a smaller lamp attached to his arm. I do not want to meet lamp with a face on a dark graveyard!

There are some more spooky characters joining the procession as it goes underground. What’s up with red head and a lamp on a stick guy for example?

Lovelovelove Hell with the magma and the giant spider and the office chairs on rocks (some of them upside down). Giant pentagram in the background that seems to be spinning! I loved the basement office hell vibe they used for Hell in S1, but this fiery Hell looks so cool. Creature with bat wings perching on top of a rock! Great vibes, very hellish.

London during the airstrike has a cool blimb, a tank, lots of wreckage, is apparantly a 30 zone, so no speeding, and there’s an ad for Stairway to Heaven. Seems like a play or a movie maybe?

Aziraphale and Crowley with their wings out walk in front of a bus with “wings for victory” written on the side. And then an aircraft throws a bomb on them.

It is raining rabbits in the entryway to the magic show theatre, and there’s person sized and shaped rabbit in the audience. Is it Harry the Rabbit?

Lots of interesting head dresses in the people following after Crowley here, and there’s Beelzebub. They’re being led to meet Aziraphale in his magic uniform, now upgraded with a cape! (He should have worn the cape to Adam’s party, capes are cool.)

Space! Spacespacespace! Look at the planets and stars! Also the tank, it’s still here. And there’s... a rabbit astronaut? With glowing eyes?

Little UFO crossing in front of that moon/planet! Looks a bit like the flying saucer from season 1.

Thy kingdom airways lol! And it’s raining hearts! On Aziraphale and Crowley on the bookshop roof.

“Give me coffee or give me death” is a very metal slogan for a coffee shop. And there’s lots of music themed stuff in the street. There’s a jukebox, a pile of records behind it, that decoration between the street lamps looks like vinyl records cut in half strung up? And the Bentley is there, probably blasting Queen. :D

The skycrapers are elevator shafts. The one in the middle has an angel in it, riding down. Down to Hell? Ding!

It’s the Dirty Donkey! And the movie theatre is called “The Arrival”. It’s screening today! That’s very clever, wonder if the opening will change with the different episode titles? :) Also, there’s the image from the box the angel is carrying again, on the film posters for The Arrival. Can’t tell what it is.

Look at them all walking into the light! They’re going to be enlightened! Or something. But it is a very bright light! Lighthouse! It’s also covered in scrap and  junk nearly to the top. Whatever that may mean. (Guys don't walk into the light, no!)

My friends, I am really looking forward to stop waiting and see what this is all about!