#he wants to write a song about his fairy tale

[rookmoon]

Why do I keep doing this to myself

[eglerieth]

Some of y’all are not appreciating Bilbo Baggins enough. I am here to remedy that. This guy has:

• somehow managed to establish himself as a respectable, staid hobbit by the time he was fifty, despite being both a grandson of Bullroarer Took and the Shire champion of pretty much every aiming-game known to hobbitkind

• had an in-depth debate on pleasantries with a random guy passing by in the street, who turned out to be GANDALF

• collapsed in front of his own fire shaking and muttering “struck by lightning” over and over again in response to hearing about dragons and danger

• mind you, this was after he screamed loud enough to startle a roomful of Dwarves

• signed up for a dangerous quest completely outside of his league out of spite

• when told to scout out a mysterious light, saw some trolls, and instead of reporting back with the information, decided to PICK THE TROLLS POCKET

• arrived in Rivendell for the first time and said it “smelled like elves”

• upon meeting a strange creature that visibly wanted to eat him, he decided to play a riddle game with him- and guessed pretty much every one, and made up his own riddles, afraid and alone, that not only were good and full of linguistic puns, but actually stumped the other guy- AND THEN CHEATED AND WON WITH A QUESTION

• showed mercy to said strange creature who wanted to kill him, and was now standing between him and freedom

• eavesdropped on the dwarves arguing over whether to try to save him, then popped up casually smack in the middle of them just as they were debating

• somehow managed to sleep like a log at the really really high eyrie full of wild predators

• found himself in a bad situation, said eff it, and turned around and antagonized and fought off an insane amount of man eating spiders, like enough of them that fifty was a small portion, by singing at them with incredibly complex and punny insulting songs composed on the spot, while simultaneously slaying them in multitudes despite having zero combat training. Seriously, we don’t discuss enough how epic the spider scene is.

• broke a company of dwarves out of the very secure prison of the Elvenking by inventing white water rafting with barrels

• charmed his way out of being eaten by a dragon

• stole the frickin Arkenstone from the guys who employed him, one of whom was a king

• took part in an epic battle, only to be knocked out in the first ten minutes and miss the entire thing

• was named elf-friend by the guy who’s prisoners he sprung

• wrote his own autobiography, complete with all the narrative recognition of his own heroics

• spent 60 years writing said autobiography

• taught his lower class neighbor’s kid how to read

• taught his nephew Elvish- not only Sindarin, but Quenya too

• spent decades telling his cousins his own story as fairy tales, complete with character impressions accurate enough that one of them was able to fool a servant of the Enemy with a second hand impression

• used the One Ring of Power to hide from his neighbors

• planned an elaborate feast with multiple social faux pas to mess with his neighbors, complete with a purposefully bewildering speech and culminating in him vanishing into thin air in front of everyone

• left his cousins and neighbors very unsubtle passive aggressive gifts in his will

• settled into Rivendell, randomly befriended the heir to the throne of like half of Middle Earth, and apparently spent his time writing very personal poems about his hosts and reciting them to crowds of elves

• after being invited to a Council of basically every major kingdom in the continent, spent a quarter of the time reciting vague poems about his friends, a quarter of the time telling anyone who would listen about his heroic past, and half the time interrupting to ask when lunch would be

• volunteered to bring the ring to Mordor

• became one of only four or five mortals in history to live in Valinor

Seriously, Bilbo Baggins may well be the most chaotic, insane person in the entire legendarium, and that includes the likes of people like Finrod “bit a werewolf to death to save the life of guy who he just met and gave up his kingdom for” Felagund.

[blue-eyed-beastie]

A Closer Look at Belle's Book: Part II

In Part I, I went into some detail about the illustration inside Belle's book, but now I want to turn the page, so to speak.

Thanks to the magic of 4K, I was able to zoom in on some details in Beauty and the Beast that I had never noticed before, and this time I wanted to see what story Belle was reading. I've seen theories that it was either foreshadowing Aladdin or referencing Sleeping Beauty, and I myself noticed that it bears some artistic resemblance to Snow White... but it turns out that it has nothing to do with Disney, or its fairy tales.

It's something else entirely, and it's in French!

After zooming in and studying each frame, I managed to make out the following text:

une languissante sirene! Enfin, il sera bientôt heureux, si c'est là ce qui doit causer son bonheur. Je sais que je suis agréable à regarder, puisque j'y ai du plaisir moi-même, et de ce plaisir je ne priverai pas mon mari, au contraire. Je ne sais si je l'aimerai, je l'espère; mais je veux qu'il m'aime lui, et je ferai pour lui plaire tout ce qui lui plaira. Ah! chère Adélaïde, je suis pleine de rêves absurdes et de pensées contradictoires! Je songe à des choses qui me semblent à la fois douces et vilaines, et j'ai des imaginations qui me font rougir en même temps que pleurer! Au moins, je ne m'ennuie pas. Je vis plus en une heure de ces journées que l'an passé je ne vécus en toute l'année. Chaque heure me renouvelle, me grandit et m'épanouit. Je me semble un rosier qui fleur rirait à vue d’œil, je suis fraîche et parfumée; je suis légère et forte: j'attends le bonheur. Paul est plus beau que je ne l'avais encore jamais tu. Il est pâle avec de grands yeux pleins de fièvre et d'amour. Je le trouve sublime quand il s'agenouille près de moi pour me regarder comme en prière. J'ai envie de le prière aussi, parfois, et de coucher ma joue sur ses genoux, mais quand j'ai cette envie-la, je me fâché contre moi-meme et je boude Paul.

Which, roughly translated into English, means:

a languid siren! Finally, he will soon be happy, if that is what will make him happy. I know that I am pleasant to look at, since I take pleasure in it myself, and of this pleasure I will not deprive my husband, on the contrary. I do not know if I will love him, I hope so; but I want him to love me, and I will do whatever he pleases to please him. Ah! dear Adelaide, I am full of absurd dreams and contradictory thoughts! I think of things that seem to me both sweet and ugly, and I have fantasies that make me blush and cry at the same time! At least, I am not bored. I live more in one hour of these days than I lived in the whole year last year. Each hour renews me, makes me grow and blossom. I seem to myself a rosebush that blooms laughing before my eyes, I am fresh and fragrant; I am light and strong: I await happiness. Paul is more handsome than I have ever seen him before. He is pale with big eyes full of fever and love. I find him sublime when he kneels down next to me to look at me as if in prayer. I want to pray to him too, sometimes, and to lay my cheek on his knees, but when I have this desire, I get angry with myself and I sulk at Paul.

By the way, there is one more sentence (maybe even two) at the bottom of the page that is partially obscured by Belle's shoulder and right hand. It may or may not be important to the rest of the excerpt, but for completion's sake, I'll share it here:

Il est ... maintenir un homme dans les ...

Which translates to:

He is ... to keep a man in the ...

Intriguing, isn't it? What was she trying to say?

Overall, the author appears to be an unwed woman dreaming of her future marriage to a man named Paul. Her confidante is someone named Adelaide, but I suspect she is actually writing to herself. Regardless, she is either betrothed to Paul or she longs to be, since she calls him her husband. Perhaps it is an arranged marriage? She goes on to dwell upon his handsomeness, and how she longs to be close to him, but then she gets angry at herself for feeling this way. The last line of the passage is incomplete, but my best guess is that the author is saying that Paul is not to blame for her sulking, so it is not right to keep a man in the dark, i.e. ignorant. I could be wrong, though. In any case, she is conflicted about her feelings on the matter. You could even say that her feelings are "new, and a bit alarming".

I can see why the filmmakers chose this passage for Belle's book.

It may not be a fairy tale, but it certainly has elements from the film. There are references to beauty, roses, imagination, and eyes filled with love, and passion.

Belle:

"Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because—you’ll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter Three!"

Do the lyrics match the story hinted at on the page itself? No, but I really respect the filmmakers for going out of their way to include this kind of detail in the film. They could have taken the easy way out, by writing out something like "Once upon a time" to echo the opening narration, or used "Lorem ipsem" Latin filler, or even meaningless brush strokes just to fill the page... but they didn't. They chose something in French that Belle herself might have liked to read. And I think that's really cool.

[whirlpool-blogs]

whirlpool's personal MOTA fic recs!

I've actually been dying to put this together for a while now...today is as good an excuse as any! I might not know everyone's tumblrs vs ao3 names so I will NOT be offended if you tell me to correct something!! <3

the big list = going alphabetical order in my folder because YES I do download my favorites, it's like having your own little bookshelf!!

non-clegan fics:

nine mothers' sons by @reallylilyreally (truly beautiful, breathtaking, and **THE** John Brady bible for the fandom so make sure you pray to it every night)

at your heels by @reallylilyreally (this one is Ev Blakely, another really beautiful story that helps you understand just why Crosby's memoir speaks of Blakely with such love and affection)

clegan (or gale-centric, or john-centric) fics:

A Direct Solution by @sweaterkittensahoy (Gale & Marge proposition Bucky...so cute and so hot)

ain't it easy? by @stereobone (dom/sub with john as the dom but ohhh man it's so much more than just that!!!!! this fic is so full of FEELS. and it's also HOTTTT. and also the FEELSSSSS.)

all the rest of what I want with you by @london-cowboy (the level of care that went into writing this fic is insane and impeccable. down to its own internal timeline, little egan kiddos, and the ANGST. but it's all worth it, I promise!!)

back home where you're from, that's the measure of a man by wolfhalls (nice little oneshot of the bucks, I love the back-and-forth of their dialogue in this one, it really does feel like two people who know each other well)

bittersweet between my teeth by @blixabargelds (post-war adjustment...love when the two majors are a little messy and a little sad and also john calls gale the prettiest thing he ever saw so there's that <3)

bluebirds singing a song by ourdarkspirits (Marge jumps Bucky's bones. Then Gale joins. Super fun, super hot!)

Close and Yet Closer by Anonymous (LITERALLY THE MOST!!!!!! FIC OF ALL TIME!!!!!!! Gale is a little bit mean and John is a lot bit sweaty. Like all the time. it's amazing and you should read it and it WILL change your life.)

Corpse Song by birdwif (oof. john is miserable in the stalag he's scratching at the door he's gnawing his own leg off.)

deep breath baby by @defnotanarc (um FISTING. yeah. intense and delicious. side note sometimes the world isn't fair and people who are really talented and amazing at drawing are also really good WRITERS too LIKE WTF!!)

DOG DINNER by @wompire (super interesting writing style, extremely poetic and striking. hits you right in the gut.)

everything and the kitchen sink by @swifty-fox (YEAH THIS ONE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE TOO. modern au where gale is a professional dom and john is a journalist who hornily consents to both (1) fucking around, and (2) finding out. in top ten fics of the decade in general tbh)

Freed From Desire by @feyd-meowtha (yoooooo such a fun and free and sexy fic!!! such a great writing style and such a cool remix of all the characters we know and love!)

He wears his love around his neck by kasugayamaisforlovers (Gale character study, he tries to run his little gay thoughts away which is always so fun to see)

hold me like a knife by storm_warning (tw: self-harm, this REALLY gets into John's self-destructive stalag spiral and it's super visceral and wet and heart-wrenching and written with such, such care and precision)

Hound Within the Heart by Anonymous (fairy-tale esque, gets super crazy and pushes the limits of reality but in the best ways possible)

I Don't Wanna Be Alone Tonight by @johnslittlespoon (cuddling for warmth <3 and then a little more <3 <3 so sweet and intimate!!)

I Like A Bad Boy by @nicijones (modern college AU and bucky is a fratty fuckboy type & in this fic he DOES punch a guy for Gale and it's all very hot and sweet and a delight to read)

i wish you wouldn't tell me (about your hawaiian party) by @whitetrashjj (when the fuckbuddies thing gets messyyyyyy because gale catches feelingsssssss, so delicious and meaty!!)

if that isn’t love, it’ll have to do by @irregularcollapse (ALWAYS such incredible character reads from this author, never misses. also facefucking. also FACEFUCKING <3)

i'll be seeing you by @puffanities (a quick 1.6k oneshot but still packed with some really great characterization and powerful language!! 'when the numbers of planes don’t match...')

i'll find you before the dust settles by butidontreallycare (a Westworld AU!! super cool)

in our bedroom after the war by @stereobone (one of those fics that's just like. a pillar of the community, y'know? iconic. classic. eternal.)

Into the Unknown by Melanie_Mikaelson (big win for john whump enjoyers. BIG win. like 20+ chapters of winning)

it ain't for meatball by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky. Curt puts the dog collar on Bucky....and it's HOTTTT arf arf i'm barking just like bucky is in this fic...)

It's Not Love, but It's Fun by @sweaterkittensahoy (Curt/Bucky, 500 words so it's short and sweet just like Curt ahahahaha, ANYWAY still such an interesting little read regardless!)

judgment by the hounds by @puffanities (PG, very visceral and tender apology after the stalag fight scene <3)

level-off maneuvers by wormringers (sweet little oneshot of the Bucks in London)

little fix by ForASecondThereWedWon (Algeria <3 <3 you just kNOW those two gay pilots were sniffing and huffing and licking each other's sweat.....this author GETS it)

love means nothing (in tennis) by @irregularcollapse (fics that make you go WEEEEEEEE!!!! every word, every physical action that these characters take is SO precise and well-written. truly like wrapping a soft bathrobe around yourself and also the bathrobe is incredibly sexy and also they're sucking each other off post-game but PRE-shower. also gale's dad!! also margie!! truly such a well crafted AU)

make you feel alive by @sig-nifier (really sweet little oneshot of gale being a little protective of john. and i am ALWAYS a sucker for the 'call off your dog' trope... and it's done perfectly here!)

meet me at the chapel by @swifty-fox (still in-progress and SUCH a creative, inventive universe!! outlaw john you will always be famous to me!!!!)

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by @swifty-fox (swift can really weave a story like no one else. so many lines that pack a punch. and in the end, they make it <3)

my type by @spaceshipkat (this one is SOOOOO well-written, I always go so crazy for the dialogue!!! such a great push-pull dynamic in this fic)

night terror by @antiquitea (hot! and sweet! and HOT! and angsty!!!!! highlights include: gale gives john a literal countdown deadline to get off)

Obligate Mutualism by bowhuntress (Gale-centric story of trying to get John through the stalag, then returning the England without Bucky, a fic very obviously written with a lot of care and love)

obsessions, and other things by @sig-nifier (the Bucks cope. really great pacing and dialogue, and I always love when fics take the care to delve into john's struggle with alcoholism as well)

of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world (he walks into mine) by @whitetrashjj (really fun parallel universe where Buck owns a bar, just a great read all-around!)

Oh, I do, do I? by @defnotanarc (DIRTY TALK, like the most delicious, incredible dirty talk you can imagine, this fic nails it!!)

One of your Girls by @soliloquy-dawn (9k oneshot and it's great all the way through, Gale is jealousssss of John fucking around, don't worry they resolve it <3, definitely captures that innocence of pre-Bremen MOTA episodes)

peacetime like a liminal space by @spaceshipkat (this one is PHENOMENAL. post-war, John goes to New York City and turns out it doesn't fill the emptiness. luckily Gale shows up. <3)

Putting Words to It by @impalachick (YEAH THIS ONE IS REALLY HOT. John is a snoop and reads Gale's letters to Marge <3)

Reunited by Flowersandthings (PG, cute & funny oneshot of the Bucks being reunited after Gale makes it over from Greenland!)

Reverie by @avonne-writes (REALLY creative, well-crafted story. Gale and John are soulmates and can visit each other's dreams since adolescence. INCREDIBLE journey and arc in this story, the stalag part is just wow. truly such a gift to the fandom!!).

Rugire by Anonymous (umm omegaverse-ish but with deer dynamics. messy. and SO good.)

SHOTGUN. by pornogirl (YEAH this one is awesome, it's not safe it's not sane but oh boy it is consensual)

Song of Songs by @swifty-fox (sweaty sex sweaty sex sweaty sex)

Spin, Sit, Roll-Over by @glumbabie (Gale is a little mean to John and it's VERY sexy of him tbh. 'DOGS DON'T TALK'???? 'YOU CAN EAT'???????? yeah. read this.)

the chimneys hardly ever fall down by @redbelles (another Gale/Marge + John, and it's HOT. it's SEXY it's awesome!!)

the hand of a good man by @stereobone (John rewrites Gale's daddy history <3)

the jacket by @dogmetaphors (REALLY great sense of dialogue and characterization even in 1.6k words, also shamelessly horny and SO yummy)

The Major’s Wife by tryingmyhandatwriting (John/Original Female Character but like. give this one a chance, I'm telling you!! I'm always soooo compelled by sex scenes that like. are actually a little bit unhappy. and this one SERVESSSSS.)

this must be the place by @blixabargelds (BIG win for Gale whumpers. broken bone and LOTS of blood and super well-written)

To be alone with you by Damn_Illusive (THIS ONE IS SO, SO SPECIAL AND CREATIVE!! freaky army experimentation gives gale and john telepathic communication. incredible separation arc while gale is in the stalag. really, really unique story that is such a staple in my mind as one of the the most incredible clegan stories ever. I think about this one A LOT!!!)

To the Moon and Back by @rambleonwaywardson (iconic astronaut AU, written with SUCH care and love, it's so obvious!! and BIG win for john whumpers. who said that -)

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me) by @johnslittlespoon (sooo fun and creative and inventive, Bikeriders-esque!Gale and a sweeter, more innocent John. really well crafted)

trading paper dolls by ForASecondThereWedWon (Alex draws Gale pinup girl style in the stalag.....John swipes it.... super great fic!)

two slow dancers by everywordnotsaid (unrequited love, John for Gale, through their journey. I genuinely, actually sobbed for a long time at the conclusion of this fic. I am always thinking about this fic. I think it really captures something about the experience of watching the show and realizing in that hopeless, lovesick kind of way that there's no way to go back in time and save all of them. I still get teary whenever I think about this story or hear the song. It's one of those fics that's not just good, not just great, but somehow also really fucking IMPORTANT. this story MATTERS. you should absolutely read it and save it and imprint it onto your heart. I know it's imprinted onto mine.)

Un Chant d’Amour by @counting0nit (really intriguing take on the interrogation center time frame!)

unicorns, and other extinct animals by @spaceshipkat (really, really incredible reading experience. something that actually touches other aspects of my life, even now. I see planes overhead and I think about this fic. I see letters on a table and I think about this fic. just. this author GETS IT, you know? just absolutely nails every aspect of this kind of fic: post-war adjustment, the pain, the LOVE. this fic will make you FEEL it. let it happen.)

Up In Our Bedroom by @steeseman (ICONIC. really one of those pillars of the community type fics, y'know? it's funny and it's sweet and it's painful and the hot parts are HOT. clearly written with SO much care, and SO much love, and SO much precision. every single word packs a punch. absolutely one of my top reads of all time, across time, across fandoms)

When the bones are good by @aramblingjay (a really incredible post-war fic, such a beautiful, rich writing style!! isn't afraid to dig at the hard parts - john's relationship with alcohol, their nightmares from the war. stunning visuals -- the author uses setting and place and motion in such a tangible, real way. I can still see the little hideout spot in my mind's eye, even now. one of those fics that's just. such a treasure to the fandom.)

your dreams, whatever they be by @drylite (this one is super new, and it's just SUCH solid writing!)

You're A Dog (I'm Your Man) by @johnslittlespoon (one of those fics that's a pillar of the fandom for SURE!!! definitely a classic)

[victoria-grimesss]

tear you apart - part I

masterlist

->Pairing: König x fem!reader

->Words: 2.2k

->Warning: sexual thoughts, use of Y/N, close proximity, and tension, eventual smut

->Summary: König is kinda mean, dark and a little possessive but it’s all in good fun! A new girl catches the colonel's eyes, and he won’t let her go. Inspired by my favorite song Tear you Apart by She Wants Revenge.

->A/N: please let me know what ya’ll think, this is my first time writing anything spicy so im open to feedback. Also my requests are always open :)

The base is cold as it should be at this time of year, you transferred from the states to the Austrian KorTac base against your own wishes, you are a specialized stealth agent that the higher ups thought could be a valued member to the KorTac team. Wishing to be back in the sun but alas your new skies are clouded and mean.

It is what it is, you thought to yourself, lacing your boots, and emerging from your room. It’s always a weird adjustment process when you transfer to a new base, learning the way around like learning a new maze each time. The people were friendly enough although you didn’t know if it was because you were a new soldier or just because you were a new pretty face around that hadn’t heard any rumors about the seedy guys and their proclivities.

Altogether you have heard one rumor,

One big, tall, menacing rumor.

König

“The king”

Curiosity killed the cat and God help you, all you wanted was to know if what they said was true. Before you left for transfer you heard whispers when they found out where you were going.

“She’ll be miserable under his watch.”

“He’ll have her running laps and doing reps the first day for sure.”

“He’ll eat her alive.”

 “He’ll eat her alive.”

 Did these whispers make her shiver? Yes

Did these whispers make her restless? Yes

Did these whispers make her ache in anticipation? Absolutely.

 It’s been a long while since the last body occupied her bed, a touch a century ago, a kiss eons ago. All these fairy tales about this big, tall strong man that could throw her two football fields didn’t help her desperation at all.

She knew these thoughts weren’t appropriate, sleeping with a superior was frowned upon. He was probably married and happy, men like that don’t stay on the market for long. And from the stories she heard she obviously has no shot with him.

She rounded a corner from the barracks and exited to the outside courtyard, the air nipping at her skin. Dark clouds looms and the trees are barren of leaves ready for life anew. Approaching the main building the smell of sweat and metal entered her nose making way to the meeting room.

——

The debriefing was the same as all the others, the captain explaining what to do and who goes where. She nearly fell asleep until the doorknob turned, that’s weird, usually people don’t barge into these things halfway through… unless they’re king of the castle.

He enters the room, his aura dominating those around him. His stature is something to behold, well over six feet of pure muscle. He could break me over his knee like a glowstick and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it…

He stalks into the room greeting the captain, his voice it deep and dark and you want to hear more of it.

His gear makes him all that bulkier, his mask concealing his face and yea, if I were the enemy and I saw him running towards me I would definitely shit my pants.

He stands at the front of the room observing everyone in it and maintaining concentration on the presentation the captain is giving for the next mission. You try your hardest to maintain the same concentration but he’s just so tall and all the rumors are true he’s an enigma. You find your eyes drinking him in, from his shoes to the metal plates on his shins, to his..oh god… his broad broad shoulders. You imagine taking your hands and tracing over them feeling the thick muscles underneath his war-torn skin as you bring your hands lower-

 He shifts in place.

 Your eyes quickly dart away then to his eyes, his eyes locked on yours like a predator watching his prey.

You immediately break into a sweat, his eyes like a spotlight and they don’t move from you.

You look again to see if he’s still looking, he tilts his head a bit to the side and raises an eyebrow teasingly. Shit. oh no he’s hot. Like really hot.

Shifting in your seat, nervous beads of sweat dripping down your neck, the meeting is coming to a close and people start tucking in their chairs. König is still standing by the door, his eyes still locked on yours, I wonder what he’s thinking. I mean, surely if he’s a married man he wouldn’t be looking at me so hard….right? Maybe no one told him you were transferring so he’s just confused on who the fuck is this new girl in here I didn’t approve this. By now most of everyone has left the room, the projector is turned off, the map put away, the captain gone. You move your gaze to the floor and get up and tuck in your chair, clearing your throat, now realizing how eerily quiet the room is and you haven’t heard König make a noise since he greeted the captain. You make your way to the door, preparing to walk by him and out of the room.

An arm shoots out to block the doorway and you are forced to stop dead in your tracks keeping your eyes dead set on the long dark hallway in front of you.

“Your name soldier.” He barks, his voice smooth and dark like black coffee. The sweat beads up again and you know for a fact your face is growing hot.

“Y/N, sir.” You straighten your back and maintain my straight state.

He leans down. You can tell he’s looking at you and you raise your eyes to meet his and your heart is racing a million miles an hour and nerves are on fire you breath is uneven and you know he knows, I mean who wouldn’t be uneasy this close to him.

“I-I���m the transfer from the states sir, from the stealth unit.”

“I know who you are hübsches Mädchen, read your file. Approved your transfer myself.”

He replied, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s even more intimidating this close but something deep within you wants to reach out to him and quell this thirst for his touch.

“I appreciate you thinking me worthy to serve on this team, I won’t let you down.” You affirm with the little strength you have left. His gaze is piercing but intoxicating all the same.

He removes his hand slowly from the doorframe and straightens his back standing at his full height again. His begins again,

“Training at 0700 tomorrow morning be there, I’d like to see you demonstrate some maneuvers see if you need any additional training. I will be watching closely, do not disappoint me.” His arms are crossed now and he’s even larger than before.

“Yes, of course sir, I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to it.” His tone is light now, maybe even teasing.

You swear you saw him wink but maybe it was just the lighting and how it hit his mask.

“Well run along kleiner Hase; you need your beauty sleep after all.” He motions to the hallway and you take quick steps back to your room, cheeks still hot and breath still quick. It was going to be difficult to have him as your commanding officer.

——

Sleep didn’t come easy, tossing and turning and thinking about the way König devoured you with his eyes made you sweat and frankly being that close to him and replaying that moment over and over again didn’t help with your insomnia. You thought of him a lot that night, more than once, enough to make your hand cramp up. By the time it was daylight you were running off 4 hours of sleep and a large coffee you picked up from the mess hall. You trudged your way over to the main building again where the gym and training room was, once again passing through the courtyard.

The trees are still barren, and you almost slip on the sleet left on the pathway cursing to yourself and hoping to god no one saw.

The gym smells musty, the air vents clearly working overtime since the gym has some activity. A couple groups of pairs work on sparing on the far side and others work out alone. You walk over to the mats and stand to the side watching the two pairs fight for the upper hand, takedown training great, you knew how to do it most of the time on missions you were equipped with a silenced pistol and other quieter tools. Stealth takedowns are your forte but it can’t hurts to get more practice with face to face takedowns.

The fight with the two are done and you were too busy thinking to hear your voice being called.”

“Sergeant L/N!, to the mat.” König barked, his authority shaking the ground, not the best first impression on training day.

You apologize quickly and step onto the mat, your opponent being someone a bit taller than you but not by much, a weight to weight equal, should be easy enough.

König’s eyes watch you as you grapple with the opponent twisting his arm and throwing him over your shoulder onto the mat, you brace your knee on his neck and apply a small amount of pressure, the opponent taps out. He won’t lie, König felt his pants get tight from seeing you work so effectively. Your work is certainly good, he won’t lie, taking down someone so easily.

“Again, another.” He barks once more, his accent thick.

You take down another three opponents, you clearly are growing restless from the muscle exertion and signal to take a break. König watches with amusement.

“A break? What if this was real combat kleiner Hase, will you beg your advisories to adjourn their dissatisfaction for you? Beg them for a time out?” By now he’s stepped onto the mat with you, today he’s shed the outer layer of his gear just wearing his mask and usual military uniform, he still looks just as hot.

“There’s no time for breaks out there as you know, and when you come up with a larger enemy you must be able to take them down as well.”

Fuck.

He wants you to take HIM down, your muscles are already weak from the last three fights he surly knows you’ve exerted yourself right? Right?!

“Go on schatz, I’ll let you make the first move.” His voice has an edge of teasing to it and you want to rip off his mask and see the smirk you know he’s displaying.

You huff

“Very well sir.”

You move to grapple his middle trying to take out his legs, he’s sturdy like a tree and you think if you can take out his legs he’ll go down like one. He budges only slightly when you hit on a pressure point and just when he’s moving and you think you’ve gain the upper hand he sweeps your legs from underneath you and has you pinned. Your wrists are bound by one of his hands above you head and he’s got both of his very thick thighs straddling you.

Your face grows hot at your defeat, especially all your other coworkers seeing it too. But it burns even hotter when he comes down close to your ear and whispers to you,

“You look very pretty underneath me schatz, so pretty when you are short of breath.” He laughs, that bastard.

You can’t admit it but your panties grow damp at his words and your body is on fire, although to those around you it just looks like you’ve over exerted yourself with a tad too much training.

König stand, his height from down here is astonishing. He reaches a hand down and lifts you to your feet but he’s so strong you accidentally collide with his chest before taking a quick step back. You mumble an apology.

“You fight well L/N, no doubt you will be a fine addition to this team. Although you will need to know how to take down large adversaries so I can help you with additional training of course.”

He holds his hand for you to shake it and you meet him halfway, his large hand grips yours and you get a flashback to feeling it wrapped tightly around your wrists, you shiver.

König’s gaze casts down upon you, no woman has yet to capture his attention the way you have. Many have tried. Thrown themselves at him in an unsavory manner, but you, oh you’re different. He admires the way you speak to him, although not many words have been exchanged between the two of you he prays there are more.

Your hair, your eyes, your body, all of it has entranced him and the moment he laid eyes on you, the others know. The way his gaze is steady and dark on you the others know you’re off limits. He yearns to learn more of you, to hear of your history as he strips your clothes off one article at a time under the dim lights of his office. He must be patient though. You are like a deer, scared in the spotlight and he must not spook you, he stands still until you come to him. For now he stares.

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.3 (Daffodil) a2d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 3,060

Notes: Happy very late birthday to my dearest moot @thatgirlangelb! Thank you for always letting me babble away in your DMs <3 You give me so much motivation to write whenever we talk, I swear over half of BFP wouldn't be written without you. You're a magical and special human being and I hope life treats you so incredibly well <<<333

This chapter is on the shorter side, but it's longer than I was expecting it to be? That seems to be the trend for SG lmao. This one actually came out pretty smoothly and there weren't as many small edits as usual. Ofc I say that and then I'll come back in 4-8 business days and absolutely abhor it lmao. I tried to make it pretty obvious who Reader encountered in this chapter before the little reveal, but y'all'll have to lmk how I did. I tried to do it with actions instead of descriptions bc I'm rlly bad at describing body shapes.

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, allusions to past domestic violence?

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part (Coming Soon <3)

Taylor spends all of the next morning bugging you about your soulmates.

It’s mostly friendly teasing, you know. A fanboy excited that you’re connected to his idols and a friend who wants you to feel more at ease in a difficult time.

It’s still annoying as hell.

Over breakfast, “Listen, I know men ain’t shit, but these ones have benefits! For me. Maybe give them a chance?”

While you brushed your teeth, “I’m all for independence! Feminism and all that. But they’ve got crazy money.”

Through the door while you were getting dressed, “They’re dancers! I’ve never met a dancer who didn’t know how to use their hips.”

Even as you were walking out the door for work, “They produce their own music, they might even write songs for you!”

You finally turn around to face him, the lucky bastard still in his pajamas since he was smart enough to get the day after the concert off from work. You place your hands on your hips and cock your head to stare him down.

Immediately he starts to stumble and sweat, your quirked eyebrow a hint to your waning patience.

“I-I just- I mean- I was just sayin’-”

You roll your eyes at him and quickly slug him in the shoulder. Ignoring his yelp of pain, you relieve him of his stuttering misery.

“Listen, I know you’re excited because I’m your Idol’s soulmate and whatnot, but I don’t even know them.” You chide him. “Besides, only Bangchan is for sure my soulmate right now. For all we know the other seven are completely unrelated.”

Taylor just gives you a flat look for that. Neither of you believed in coincidences very much, and you knew as well as he did who your remaining soulmates were.

“But you could know them,” Taylor counters, “Soulmates are a lifetime kinda thing.”

“Exactly why I don’t want to meet them right now!” You nod as if to agree with your own point, “We said we’d let fate do it’s thing and we’re gonna let it.”

Taylor opens his mouth to start bargaining with you again, so you cut him off before he could annoy you too much.

You and Taylor didn’t fight much. You’d quickly learned each other’s limits way back when you'd first moved in. Unfortunately for him, you'd woken up with a migraine this morning because of everything that had happened the night before.

He was lucky he still had a head.

“And anyway, what would I even do? Track down their hotel? Chase down their plane? Email JYPE? I’m sure they have fans claiming to be their soulmates all the time. Bangchan didn’t even seem to notice the bond forming, they’d probably file a restraining order.”

Taylor finally deflates at your argument. He’d know even better than you what kind of environment surrounded celebrities and their soulmates.

“I’m just saying,” He whines, “that you don’t have to run from them when you meet them.”

You feel your ears burn with embarrassment at the reminder of how you’d panicked last night.

After you’d dropped the Bangchan bomb on him and closed your door to get to bed, Taylor had thrown it right the way back open to interrogate you. You’d spent another hour explaining the whole harrowing tale before he’d finally let you go to bed.

It was a good thing your hours were as flexible as they were, you’d have been waking up seconds after you’d gone to sleep otherwise.

“I wasn’t gonna run!” You mutter petulantly. Taylor just raises a brow at you. You’re getting tired of how communicative his face is.

“I wasn’t!”

“If you run,” he smirks at you, eyes glinting meanly, “You owe me twenty bucks. If you don’t, I’ll owe you.”

You pout and protest, but end up shaking the devil’s hand anyways. Letting fate do it’s thing included not fleeing when you were confronted by it’s design.

You leave the house a grumpy mess, Taylor seeing you off with a blinding smile.

The rest of your day goes about as swimmingly as the start of it.

You’re already grumpy, irritated, and hurting. Your soul mark prickles at your side every now and again, as if annoyed at you for ignoring it.

You hope Bangchan isn’t experiencing the same thing, the poor guy deals with enough.

Work goes as smoothly as you always expect it to, which is not at all. There’s always some emergency to deal with, another fire to put out. Always started by someone higher than you on the corporate ladder so you can’t even yell at them.

The relief you feel when your lunch break rolls around could power a city.

You leave the building with haste, avoiding all of your coworkers as you went. It’d be a tragedy to be flagged down with more work at this exact moment.

You make your way out to mix with the crowds of L.A, letting the flow of people carry you to your destination a few blocks away: A quaint little coffee shop at the mouth of an alley.

It's quite possibly your favorite spot in the whole city. Decked out with a jungle of plants, walls crowded with framed art from a variety of local artists. The lighting was always warm and natural, large windows at the front making the tiny space feel so much larger than it was. You could even buy the pieces on display if you wanted, prices carefully stuck onto the frames.

Your point being, the vibes were immaculate.

You also swear they put something extra in their coffee. No other place carries you through your day in the same way.

When you enter your little midday safe-space, greeted by the charming bell above the door, you’re faced with a busier interior than you’re used to.

Usually at this time of day you can march right up to the counter to chat with the barista while they make whatever caffeinated atrocity your brain cooks up that day. Today, though, it seems like half the city’s population has decided to give your little spot a go.

You’d normally be happy for them. More business; more money and all that. But today the low din of chatter filling the air just scrapes across your brain like a rusted spoon. Your headache from this morning had only gotten worse throughout the day, and you wished you could just call it quits and go home.

Unfortunately for you, you have bills to pay and only so long of a lunch break. The walk here ate up enough of it for you to suck it up and join the line.

When you join the que you’re basically halfway out the door, practically plastered to the back of the man in front of you. He doesn't seem to pay you any mind, yapping away on his phone in quiet Korean.

You study the back of your new line neighbor with bored interest. Your eyes trace the slopes of his shoulders, drifting down to his waist, before moving back up to gaze at the back of his beanie’d head. You notice the straps of a mask around his ears and wonder how the person on the phone can hear him with his voice so muffled and low.

Apparently the person on the phone can’t hear him very well, because soon he’s raising his voice a bit more. It has you wondering if his tone is just naturally that soft, or if he’s just conscious of the space he’s in.

Soon enough you’re two people closer to the counter, halfway into the coffee shop now, and your line buddy has entered into a full blown argument with whoever he has on the phone.

He’s speaking way too quickly for your barely conversational Korean to keep up with- not that you’re trying very hard to- but you can guess from the keywords “Jagiya”, “Soulmate”, and “coffee” that it’s the usual lover’s quarrel.

From the sounds of it, it was a very “We’ve already talked about this” sort of conversation as well. Poor guy. You hope his soulmate and lover get cool with each other soon.

The conversation goes on as the two of you inch closer to the counter. You’re fully invested in the drama at this point, absorbing what little bits you can to rehash with Taylor later. Your own mini soap-opera.

After a bit more back and forth with what you assume is his partner, he begins resorting to some very creative threats to express his displeasure.

You wonder if this guy might be a bit too comfortable speaking a foreign language around English speakers, because if he didn’t sound so damn fond while he was doing it you might’ve needed to tip the police off to a potential murder. Via tissue, if your line neighbor had anything to say about it.

That sends you down a path of your own creative murder options, wondering what sort of other common items your murderous que friend might use. Stabbing their partner through with a straw, maybe? Perhaps a fork, if the straw proved too flimsy.

You can’t see his face from where you’re stood, but you’d bet it’s the face of someone who stabs. Just one of those “don’t mess with me, I can and will put whatever I’m holding through your nearest body part” type of looks. You can feel it in your bones.

You're shaken from your revery as the line moves forward and the potential murderer snaps at his phone for his partner (presumably) to put a "Lixu-yah" on the line. This sparks another argument, and though you can only hear one side of it, it seems that the desired "Lix" is unavailable. Bummer for stabby-guy.

You might be entertaining yourself too much with a stranger's conversation. You can’t feel too guilty about it though, this is the best mood you’ve been in all day. You’d entirely forgotten about your headache there for a minute. Laughter really does heal all ills, you suppose.

It's a bit of a relief when it becomes Stabby's turn and he hangs up with a grumbled declaration of love. If they were fine enough to say their 'love you's then they’d probably make it through whatever soulmate-related rough patch they were going through. You silently wish them luck.

When your stabby friend (who doesn’t know he’s your friend, but you’re endeared now) steps up to the counter it becomes very clear why he’d asked for a particular person to be handed the phone. You assume this “Lix” must have been an English-speaking friend of his, his own halting English giving him trouble with placing what seems to be a behemoth of an order.

He manages the first part of his order alright, a whopping five drinks already, when he finally reaches the limit of his English vocabulary and begins trying to describe what you think might be a shaken caramel macchiato with some extra bits.

He and the barista go back and forth for several moments, a mix of pantomiming, alternative words, and guesses from the poor flustered barista. You watch him grow more and more frustrated, though he remains very soft spoken and polite about it.

Finally, after another moment of watching them struggle, you can't take it anymore.

You gently tap the stranger on the shoulder, earning a startled little jump. He turns to you with weary eyes and you confirm that there’s a mask covering the lower half of his face. With his beanie pulled low over his eyes, you wouldn't have been able to even tell the color if you hadn't been just that bit shorter than him.

As it is, you get lost in deep pools of brown for a moment before you manage to collect yourself.

"Hi," You chirp in Korean, "Do you need help?"

The man seems to war with himself for a moment, clearly stuck between stranger danger and relief at hearing his native language. After a long moment he accepts your offer.

"Yes, please." He gestures back to the counter where the barista is also clearly relieved by your intervention. "I have a large group and they enjoy making my life difficult."

"No problem," You assure him, "where were you at in your order?"

He takes a moment to check a note app on his phone and begins to slowly relay the final 3 drinks in his 8-drink order. It takes some time, even with you translating, but the energy is a lot less frantic.

He's finally able to pay and you catch him give the name 'Lee' for the order. You wonder if it's his first or last name.

He thanks you for your help as he moves off to the side, and you just give him a small smile and a nod in return. You quickly order your own drink, waving off the barista when she also thanks you. This place was haven enough for you to owe them six times over, anyway.

You and Stabby Lee end up waiting next to each other by the pick-up counter. You feel a bit awkward, having entertained yourself with his private conversation, and end up idly rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet with nerves.

He must have realized you’d heard his entire conversation, right? You hoped not. As fun as it had been, you really hadn't meant to invade his privacy.

Besides, the only serious thing you’d heard was the soulmate thing! You defend yourself in your own thoughts, pursing your lips and nodding your head to your invisible argument. The rest of the argument had seemed to be about a vacation plan. The threats didn’t start until someone said “Zipline”.

You thought that was kinda valid. Heights weren't for everyone.

His name is called before yours, but just for one of the simpler drinks from his massive order. He takes a simple iced americano over to the table with the creams and sugars and begins to doctor it to his liking. Your name is called shortly after and you take your red-eye over to do the same.

The two of you quietly shake and stir your drinks for a moment before he speaks.

"Thank you again for your help," he says, "I really do appreciate it."

You're kind of enchanted by the softness of his voice, now that's directed at you. You’re becoming convinced that this really is just his usual tone. He's speaking normally, but you honestly feel like he's murmuring directly into your ear. He could be a hypnotist or something. An ASMR person, at least.

You wave away his gratirude as you pour unholy amounts of creamer into your drink. "No worries!" You dismiss, "I should be thanking you for the chance to practice my Korean."

"Your Korean is very good." He compliments quickly. You laugh a bit and shake you head.

"I doubt it's that good, I'm really put of practice. It's been a while."

"No, your pronunciation is great." He flashes you a bit of an eye smile to show his sincerity and you find yourself even more charmed by a perfect stranger.

You chuckle bashfully as he finishes up his drink, turning to lean against the table so you can continue to talk. You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to the way he moves, enchanted by the simple action.

"I'll make sure to brag about it everywhere." You assure him, earning yourself another eye smile and a soft chuckle.

Good heavens, you think you might be halfway in love.

"Please do."

Scratch that, you might be all the way in love.

You do your best to contain your smile and push down the blush on your cheeks. You don't think it works, if his amused gaze is anything to go by. It’s not your fault this random guy has rizz for days!

"Well, I gotta scoot." You finish turning your drink a pale tan and shoot him your best 'excusing myself from an ended conversation' smile. You're kind of sad you probably won't run into him again after this.

"I wish you good luck getting that monster order to wherever you're going." You say, shooting the pick up counter with it's growing mountain of beverages an amused look.

He huffs another little laugh and you swear your heart skips a beat. "Thanks, you take care." he offers you a tip of his cup and you tip yours right back.

You do your best to scootch past him in the tight space between the tables and the little counter, but don't quite manage not to bump him on your way. Your elbow meets his forearm and you apologize as you wiggle through.

You're already two steps out the door when the pain of flowers blooming across your right side registers in your brain.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a hiss of pain, the hand not holding your coffee automatically going down to press down where it hurts. Your eyes naturally follow it, and when you finally process what just happened your head snaps back up to the glass door. It's still swinging shut.

You meet eyes with your second soulmate behind the glass, his gaze just as wide and startled as yours.

For a moment, you’re lost again in the depths of his stare.

For a moment, you can almost smell something sweet and floral.

For a moment, you feel peace wash over you.

And then sunlight bounces off the swinging glass, breaking eye contact between the two of you. Spell broken, your soulmate moves, takes just a single step toward the door, and memories of shattered glass and echoing yells ricochet across your brain with all the power of a rocket engine.

You turn tail and book it.

By the time Minho exits the coffee shop, drink abandoned on the counter, you're already lost in the mid-day crowd. A glimpse of your bright blue sweater is the last thing he sees of you before you're gone.

He reaches behind himself to gingerly rub the sore parts of his back and pulls his phone from his pocket.

When you get home that evening, you slam a twenty down on the counter in front of Taylor and storm off to your room without a word.

Perma Tag list: @mbioooo0000

[baby-yongbok]

Seventeen

Best friend!Lee Know x Afab!Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers?? Angst?? Fluff??

Summary: Mysterious letters from a stranger made you fall in love despite your best friends apprehensions. You think back to every moment that's led to you meeting your secret admirer but the memories do little to prepare you for the mystery you're about to uncover.

Word Count: 2.4k A/N: This is a repost because I just kinda... wanted to repost it? Idk. I don't think that it did as well as it could the first time so here we go againnnnnn!

❋ Italicized parts are flashbacks

❋ This One shot was inspired by the song i love you by Billie Eilish

✧ Masterlist ✧

Six months of mystery has led you to this moment. You started getting letters from a stranger, dainty decorated notes with cursive words declaring their undying admiration for you and all that you are. You’ve never been the type of person who’s felt seen by those around you, you’ve grown content with floating in the background and only being heard when someone chooses to unmute you. Maybe that’s why these letters felt like a thunderbolt hitting uncharted territory. Maybe that’s why each word that you read when you plucked the baby blue stationary from your mailbox made you feel dizzy as you burned with the desire of a thousand suns. 

“You don’t even know who’s sending these letters. What if it’s some creep?” Your best friend, Minho, grumbled on the other line as he struggled to give his stubborn cat her medicine. 

“No creep could ever write the things I’ve read. He’s emotional and profound and - and he’s…” Your mind wanders off into a daydream as you think of all that he could be. 

“A stranger, he’s a stranger. Listen, I’m all for fairy tales but I don’t want you getting hurt. Just let me take you if you decide to meet the guy.” You huff, he’s right he is a stranger and you shouldn’t meet with this guy alone. “I’ll hide behind a tree or something.” 

You giggle at the thought but agree happily. “If that’ll make you happy then sure. I’ll let you know when he can meet me.”

“Thank you.” A comfortable silence settles on the line before Minho speaks again. “Wait, how do you know that he’ll want to meet up? He doesn’t put a return address, you can’t send him anything back.”

“He’ll want to meet, I just know it.” You stare up at the ceiling with stars in your eyes and butterflies in your stomach. Minho scoffs on the other line.

“You’re so hopelessly romantic that it’s sickening.” 

You sat knee to knee with Minho on the Subway, three more stops and you’d be there. Three more stops and your prince charming would be sitting and waiting for you by Gapstow Bridge. You’ve been to Central Park dozens of times since you’ve moved to the city but nothing could ever top this. You watched as people piled on and off of the subway car, eyes glued to their phones and headphones blasting music or some mystery podcast that would keep them up all night but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to anything other than the hammering of your heart in your chest, what if his is beating at the same rhythm?

“You really don’t have to go with me. I’m a big girl. You have to go all the way back to Korea the day after, you should be packing and resting and spending time with the cats and -” Minho nudged your shoulder as he glared at you with narrow feline eyes. He looked annoyed but you could tell that he was amused. 

“I want to take you, let me see Central Park one more time before I have to leave for half a year.” a weak chuckle escapes you but it quickly drags off into a despondent sigh. 

“I don’t want to go either, trust me, but I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll video call in the middle of the night and early morning and we’ll use our friendship lamps and you can send me a million pictures of Central Park in the winter. I know how much you love Gapstow Bridge.”

“It’s beautiful when it’s covered in snow, really. You have to see it in person, there’s nothing else like it.” You force a smile onto your lips but Minho doesn’t have to pretend. His smile is genuine, it’s just the effect that you have.

“Promise to spam my phone?” He holds out his pinky, his boba eyes upturned at the corners. You can’t help but to smile back, your doe eyes turning into shining moons that no lunar eclipse could rival.

“Promise.”

You turn to look out of the window as the train turns the last bend to your stop. You gasp, a smile spreading over your lips and a plum colored blush adorning your chilled cheeks. 

“Min! Min, it’s snowing. It’s sticking, look!” You tap your best friend, he’s been fiddling with his fingers the entire ride. His usual jokes have been nonexistent this evening, maybe he’s nervous for you. He seemed so worried after all. “I get to spend the first snow with you!” 

You smile over at him, eyes wide like Venus or maybe the moons of Saturn would be a better comparison. No matter the celestial object they could never compare to the shine of your hazel orbs. They are mere specks found in the never ending galaxy of your irises. 

“Maybe this is a sign of good luck.” He grins as his eyes scan the scenery. “Maybe you can make a wish on a snowflake tonight.”

“Look who’s being a hopeless romantic now.” You stick your tongue out at him, squinting your eyes and shaking your head playfully. He huffs a laugh with the crooked smile that he’s known for as he watches you. “Oh! This is us, let's go!”

You grab his hand and pull him out of his seat as you race towards the sliding subway doors. You race up the subway steps, your agile friend trailing behind you quickly with a tight grip on your hand. Once you make it to the top you stop and stare. A thin layer of icy white covers the street and sidewalks. You watch with wide eyes as the slush settles onto the tree branches and falls around you like feathers during a pillow fight. Soft, pretty, comfortable. 

“Are you sure that you want to do this? He could be a creep, ya know.” Minho has asked the same question about fifteen times since the two of you started walking to the train station and your answer has been the same every. Single. Time. 

“I’m positive and if he is, which I doubt that he will be, you’ll be there to do a quick one two jab and save me.” An eye roll and a sigh are all that he offers you as the two of you make your way down the steps to the station. 

“Just… prepare yourself okay? You really don’t know what you’re walking into and I don’t want you to walk out of there with a broken heart.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl, remember?” You take the lead, heading for the turnstile and swiping your MetroCard. You walk through just as you hear the train pull up and turn to Minho with wide eyes of excitement, your heart is still full, he can’t let that be taken away by someone no matter how infatuated you are with them. “It’s here, come on! Run!” 

You run up the metal stairs, the heels of your boots making a song out of each step and Minho follows right behind you, jumping the turnstile and running quickly as he ignores the staff yelling for him to pay. He’s sure that he’ll pay soon, he’ll pay in a currency greater than any atom in his body can handle. 

“There! He said to meet him on the bridge.” You jog towards the attraction that’s always held a special place in your heart. The stunning aged stone and the shining water underneath it made for a beautiful scene. “I don’t see anyone yet though.”

You walk up the slope of the bridge, squinting into the evening darkness. The sun set two hours ago but the lights of the surrounding buildings make up for the stars absence. Despite the orange of the surrounding lights, the air is cold. Your presence is all that makes the atmosphere feel warm. Comfortable.

“Maybe we should just -” You turn to Minho, your fingers laced together across your chest. Your black gloves that are slightly too big slipping up your wrist.

“He’ll be here. He wouldn’t let me down.” Minho sighs, looking over towards the small lake with crisp leaves flowing with each careful ripple that the wind creates. Maybe that’s how this will go, it’ll be smooth like he’s guided by the wind. Certainly he won't shatter the universe in your eyes.

“Y/n.” It was barely a whisper but you heard him. You’re on your toes looking in the other direction when he calls your name but you snap your neck to look up at him. That sparkle in your eyes is so bright. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean?” He can see it, a star dying in real time. What kind of monster would do this?

“When I- It wasn’t supposed to go this way.” The tear that trails down Minho’s cheek is nearly turned to crystal by the cold bite of the winter air. It blows his parted hair as he stares down at you. You’re putting it all together. The stars dimming at a pace that would leave NASA baffled, confused, anxious.

“Minho, stop messing with me.” You smile and for a second he thinks that he can see them come back. For a second he can spot Orion and the big dipper seems to take one last breath but when he looks away, when he squeezes his eyes shut and chokes back a sob, that’s when the lights go out.

Minho’s never seen a shooting star, he’s never seen light fall at such an alarming rate that we call it beautiful and now he wishes that he never had. He hates that the one time that he got to wish upon a falling star was when he broke your heart. 

“When I started sending them I thought that I had more time, I thought that we…”

“It was you?” A tear trails down your cheek as you whisper, your once sparkling eyes are clouded with frost as the snowflakes catch and melt on your lashes. “You knew about every letter, I read them to you, I told you everything but you already knew because you - you wrote them.”

“I had to tell you. I had to tell you how I felt I couldn’t take it anymore; it was eating me alive. It was killing me.” He turns to you, tear stains on both of his blushed cheeks. His eyes are glazed with worry, panic, and so much love. They’re packed with so much adoration that you wonder how you ever missed it in the first place. “Not being with you was killing me. I just - just wanted to tell you and then I got that damned call. If I would've known that I'd get called back to Korea I wouldn't have done this.” 

“How long have you known?” You cross your arms, staring at his chest rather than his face. “You sent twenty-six letters… which one did you send after you found out that you had to leave?”

“Please.”

“Which one?” Your voice is weak, hoarse with sentiment as you hold back the hurricane of emotions in your chest. 

“Seventeen.” 

“Wow.” Your mouth hangs open in a silent cry of disbelief as you turn to look into the distance of the dark park. 

“I should’ve told you, I know that. I should’ve stopped and confessed I shouldn’t have done this to you but - but you looked so happy. You were so in love with being seen and I was so proud of you for finally believing that someone sees you. That’s all that I’ve ever wanted” You scoff, laughing a bit as you blink up towards the sky, welcoming the snowflakes onto your skin, offering them a safe place to melt as you come undone in the night. 

“Did you have to do it like this?” 

“You love Gapstow and I knew it would snow.” You huff, grinning sadly. You turn to face him again, large eyes searching his anxious ones. He can see the wounds that he’s created but of course you make it look beautiful. Of course your wounds bleed constellations, he’d expect nothing less from you. 

“You never cry.” It’s his turn to grin now. 

“You make me do a lot of things that I said I never would.” 

“Like what? Write twenty-six love letters and sneak them into my mailbox?” You chuckle, are your stars coming back?

“Like love. Believe in love enough to give it a chance. Fall in love so hard that I profess my endearment on expensive stationary just so I can see you smile. Even if you didn’t know that you were smiling for me, because of me.”

“Minho…”

“I’m an idiot and I don’t deserve to love you.” His words are rushed as he smiles down at you. They're a sad and pitiful attempt at masking how much he hates himself right now. It's an attempt to hide how much he wishes he could take this all back and call it all a joke just to see you shine like you did a bit ago. “I don’t deserve to have you love me back either.”

“But I do.” Another tear escapes the floodgates behind your eyes and the hurricane in your chest grows stronger. “I do and I have for so long.”

He stares at you with tears falling faster than before, they chase each other down his cheeks and drip off at the edge turning into snowflakes themselves. Maybe he can make a wish on one.

“I don’t want you to love me.” He chokes out as he blinks the tears away.

“It wouldn’t make you leaving hurt any less. I’d just be losing a different version of you.”

“I put every ounce of myself in those letters, as long as you have them you’re never losing me.”

The thread behind your eyes snapped in that moment and it sent your hurricane of emotions free from your chest. You expected for the trees around you to be lifted up into the air. You expected for you and Minho to be whisked away as you twirl like ballerinas in violent gusts of frigid air but it never came. All that visited you were tears as you began sobbing into your hands.

Your oversized glove slipped to your fingertips, holding on desperately just as you were. Minho wasted no time before wrapping you in his arms, you clung to his chest like a sad child on the playground. Whining sobs into his coat as he quietly matched your emotion.

He knew it. He knew he’d pay for this in a way much bigger than him. He knew he’d empty your heart once you found out but he was selfishly in love with you. How could he confess to you like this when he knew he had to leave?

 He should’ve stopped at letter Seventeen.

This fic was also heavily inspired by this photo of the Gapstow Bridge in Manhattans Central Park:

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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[perfectlyoongi]

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who has your city in the weather app on his phone. as soon as Namjoon started talking to you and felt a little flower blooming inside his heart, he was quick to add your city to his app. seeing it every day, Namjoon made sure to always remind you to wear a scarf or take your umbrella with you. whatever the weather in your city, Namjoon was always ready with little pieces of advice and reminders to make your day better. “it’s going to be quite hot there today.do you have your water bottle with you? carry a fan in your backpack and stop for some ice cream before you get home. you deserve this treat.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who swears the only music that warms his soul is the sound of your voice. Namjoon was in love with you. in a way, your presence in his life had made the world a worthy place to live. you were like a ray of light in the grayest of days. with your laughs and stories, you could warm Namjoon’s heart even if you were miles away. and it was in your voice that Namjoon knew the true comfort of existence. being an eternity away from you, it was in your voice that Namjoon found true love. and there was no music or symphony that could compare with the melody of your voice. “talk to me. tell me about your day. describe the sky to me. say whatever you want, but speak. i need the calm that your voice brings me.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who offers you a set of cards titled ‘open when…’. the world was cruel and challenging, that was a truth known to everyone; as such, Namjoon tried to make your distance less painful by writing a set of letters for you to open at specific times. from a drawing of two arms for when you need a hug, or a recipe for soup when you want comfort, an extensive array of letters were delivered to you on a blustery winter morning — and you swore the sun came out the moment you saw that set of cards. “i think i planned every possible scenario. but if you need a card and don’t find one in this set, send a text. i leave everything to write you a digital letter, just ask.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who says he already missed you before he met you. when he met you, Namjoon felt at peace. for some reason, since the day he met you, Namjoon stopped being so heavy. it was as if you had brought with you the garden of eden that Namjoon delighted in from the moment he met you. in a way, Namjoon’s heart stopped bleeding when the two of you formed a friendship. and oh, when his flower expanded into bushes and trees, Namjoon could feel, for the first time in years, what true happiness was. “meeting you was like coming home after a long day of work. meeting you was a comfort i already knew but had never experienced. meeting you was meeting me for the first time. and i missed you and your soul so much.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who writes a song about you and the distance that separates you. it was more than obvious that Namjoon would express his feelings in a song — it was the only way he knew to alleviate some of the pain he felt. but unlike all the other songs, that one was just made for you. from lyrics to melody, the song was made from scratch, always with you in mind, wanting to show you how much he loved you and how unfair fate was for having put you so far away. “i wrote this song to ease the weight of my heart. it’s a simple poem about my feelings, but i want you to know that my entire soul is forever engraved here. and only for you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who reads to you every night. fairy tales never sounded so innocent when uttered by Namjoon’s tender lips. telling you various adventures and love stories, Namjoon read to you every night before you went to sleep, hoping that his voice would be enough to bring you some comfort even though he was on the other side of the phone. with delicate words and graceful pronunciations, Namjoon lulled you into a deep sleep at the end of an extremely exhausting day — a reminder that he would always be just a call away from you. “today i want to do something different. when i went to the cafe, i heard a conversation between two strangers and i would like to repeat it to you. it’s about a flower’s love for water.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who left everything behind just to be able to hug you. Namjoon was at a stage in his life where only you mattered. yes, he loved his friends. yes, he loved his family. yes, he loved his job. but, oh, how he loved you. the world only made sense because Namjoon knew you existed; all light came from you, all happiness came from you, all life came from you. you were the world to Namjoon and he didn’t mind leaving all his other loves behind if it meant having you in his arms for the first time. “my heart was begging to come home. i really needed to see you. we spent a lot of time apart. now i’m here. now i’m home. me and my heart are at home.”

[futurewdclandonorris]

Silver Springs | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x ex!fem!reader

Requested: yes

Warnings: angsty with a hopeful ending

A/N: This is my first request ever and I hope I managed to fulfill the expectations. I took a little liberty and played with the style and format and just listening and studying the song made me want to write it this way. I'm sorry if this isn't what anon had in mind when requesting this so with that make sure to leave as much details as possible when requesting things if you want something specific. Feedback on this would be very much appreciated. 🥺🧡

You’ve found yourself thinking about Lando more regularly as of late. It has been ten months since your break up and you don’t remember feeling like this at the time. You guess you were in a state of denial, trying to convince yourself that the relationship was worth saving despite knowing that it wasn’t.

Of course, in the beginning everything was like a fairy tale. At first it was so wonderful that every ounce of you was convinced that it couldn't possibly get any better. And then, slowly, inevitably, the house of cards collapsed. Maybe that should've been your first clue, but every time you would stick your rose colored glasses further up your nose and focus harder on all those positive aspects of the relationship.

Time spent with Lando was the best time of your life. He always gave you the best he could offer. Taking you out on dates, vacations, accompanying him to races across the world... He truly gave you that only-girl-in-the-world experience. He was always there, present. Until he wasn't.

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Lando Norris. But there was no way you could've prepared yourself for how it would all end up.

He was a Formula One driver and his life was always going to be busy. The paparazzi, the rumors, the constant pressure of being in the public eye. It all took a toll on your relationship.

But what you didn't anticipate was how much time he would start spending away from you. It started off with a few missed calls and texts, but soon he was gone for days at a time without a word.

You tried to be understanding, knowing how demanding his job was, but it was hard not to feel neglected and unimportant. You tried to talk to him about it, but he always seemed to have an excuse or an apology that would temporarily ease your worry.

As the months went on, you began to realize that the relationship was becoming more and more one-sided. You were always the one making compromises, always the one putting in the effort to make things work.

One night, as Lando was getting ready to leave for yet another race, you finally confronted him about it. You told him how you felt and how you needed more from him. But instead of trying to work things out, he simply brushed you off and left without a second thought.

For the first time, you began to wonder if maybe it was time to let go. Maybe it was time to walk away from a relationship that was causing you more pain than happiness.

It wasn't an easy call. You were still in love with him and a part of you wanted to believed that he loved you too. But you couldn't keep living like that when you knew you deserved more. So, after a lot of tears and internal conflict, you made the decision to end things with him.

He took it calmly. “Maybe it’s for the best. We’re at different stages in life-”

But you weren’t interested in reasoning. You were done.

Few days later as you sat alone in your room thinking about him, you couldn't help but wonder if it could all be different. Maybe if you had just tried harder, fought for the relationship a little more, things could've ended up differently. Maybe you could've been the one he came home to every night, instead of just another girl in his life. But relationships were a two way street and you couldn’t do it just on your own.

Months went by and slowly but surely, you started to heal. You threw yourself into work and hobbies, spending time with friends and family. You had to reduce your social media and tv time, fearing you’d accidentally see something about him, or maybe even search up his name on your own that would ruin all the progress you just made. Mutual friends had to be cut off too. Everything that even had a slightest relation to him had to be eliminated from your life so you wouldn't crumble back into old habits.

Finally, you were ready to try dating again. It felt strange to be putting yourself out there again, going out on dates here and there. And although nothing ever really clicked, it was working to distract and make you forget. Up until now.

He just crept into your thoughts on a random Tuesday. You scoffed, shaking them away. Then little (in)significant things started to happen. Like seeing number 4 everywhere in various combinations. You would turn on the radio and first thing you’d hear would be the song you two proclaimed to be yours one drunk night in a bar.

“Are you kidding me?!” you spat, turning the radio off. It wasn’t even a love song.

Dreams began next and they were so life-like that it was almost as if you had gone back in time. They would be so vivid, reminding you of his touch and sound of his voice. In one of them, you would be back together and he would be holding you in his arms. You’d feel safe and loved, just like you used to. One of those nights you woke up to the sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, but when you turned over it was just you and the void of the bedside he used to fill. Your eyes shifted to a digital clock on the nightstand. In hauntingly bold red it read 04:44 am.

And you really should’ve known better than to turn the tv on on weekends. Not every weekend, you reminded yourself, but really, what were the odds that you would catch him racing that Sunday?

You tried your best to ignore it all. Tried to push Lando back to the farthest corners of your mind. But every time you tried, he came back stronger, like a boomerang you couldn't escape from. It was like he was haunting you, his memory a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

It was frustrating. It was maddening. You didn't want to think about him anymore. You didn't want to care. You didn't want to love him.

When it all became too much, you decided to go for a walk to clear your head. You grabbed your coat and headed out the door, the cold afternoon air hitting you as you stepped outside. As you walked down the street, you realized that you were headed in the direction of the park where you and Lando used to go on picnics and take walks together. There was no point in avoiding going there now. Every part of the town was marked with the two of you in one way or the other.

As you walked through the park, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. You remembered how happy you used to be with Lando by your side, how the two of you laughed and talked for hours on end. You wondered if he ever thought about those moments, if he ever missed you. If he ever thought about you just in general. Your heart felt heavy as you thought about how things could have been different if only he had been willing to put in more effort into your relationship.

A sudden movement caught your eye and you turned to see a man walking towards you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your heart leaped out of your chest and you found yourself frozen in place. But the man who passed you wasn’t him. He might’ve had his hair or his eyes, but it wasn’t him. You closed your eyes and sighed a sigh of relief.

I’m starting to see things now, you thought to yourself, shaking the image away. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that type of encounter just yet anyway.

After a few minutes, you continued on your way and eventually found yourself in front of a cozy cafe. You looked up at the simple yet inviting storefront and decided this was as good a place as any to take a break. You opened the door and stepped inside, the warm atmosphere immediately embracing you like an old friend.

The cafe was quite busy with customers, but despite the crowd it still had an intimate feel to it. The smell of fresh coffee accompanied by the sound of jazz music created a relaxed atmosphere that made you forget all about your worries for a while. You walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of your favorite coffee blend before sitting down at one of the tables in the far corner.

-

He had thought about you a lot that summer. It wasn't just the memory of you that lingered in his mind; it was the way you made him feel. He missed the way your hand fit perfectly in his, and the sound of your laughter that could light up a room. He missed the long conversations you used to have over the phone when he was away, and the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you were passionate about.

He had missed you, more than he was willing to admit to himself. He had tried to ignore his feelings, to push them down and pretend that he was perfectly okay without you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the memories of your time together.

Sometimes the air would smell like your hair, the wind would caress his cheeks like you used to. He remembered the picnics in the park, the late night conversations, the lazy Sunday mornings spent cuddled up in bed on his weekends off before he would have to pack for another race week. He remembered how happy he used to be with you by his side, and he cursed himself for not realizing how much he needed you until it was too late.

Being without you on tracks was the worst. He didn’t know it would be like that when he had you calling before and after every session, giving him a false sense of security. He was racing for himself, building his career, but  he couldn't focus on anything else. The roar of the engines and the adrenaline rush of it all losing their appeal without you there to share it with him. He had to force himself to keep going, to keep racing, but every achievement felt hollow without you to celebrate with him.

But he never reached out to you. He never tried to make things right, even when he knew he was wrong. He was too prideful, too scared of rejection, too afraid of admitting that he had made a mistake. So he stayed away, hoping that time and distance would heal the wounds.

It was late autumn now and after yet another decent weekend, he decided to fly home for his week off and recharge. Maybe time spent with family and friends would help and stop you from creeping in his thoughts.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness. His career progressed drastically since your split, but what did it matter? He only had himself to share his success with.

The flight was uneventful, and before he knew it, he was back in his hometown. He stepped off the plane and was greeted by the familiar faces of his family. Their hugs and laughter made him realize he was making yet another mistake. He missed you more than ever, and being home without you will only make it worse.

Lando tried to keep busy by spending time with his loved ones and focusing on his training. But it was like trying to hold back the tide with a broom, he couldn't escape the memories of you. The sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, the warmth of your embrace. It was all too vivid in his mind, haunting him day and night.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he drove out in his car, desperate to find a way to move on. He had no destination in mind, and maybe driving to clear his head wasn’t ideal, but it was the only other thing he loved that he had left. And it was like universe was having a laugh at him, when he turned on the radio it was your song that was playing. He thought of changing the station, but his fingers lingered too long in the air over the button that he ended up listening to the whole thing.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Lando let out a heavy sigh and pulled over to the side of the road. He found himself parked in front of a cozy cafe that he had never noticed before. It looked warm and inviting, the smell of coffee wafting out to greet him. He found himself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

Without much thought, he opened the door and stepped inside. The sound of jazz music greeted him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over him as he took in the warm atmosphere. He walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee before finding a seat at one of the tables.

Looking around, he spotted you purely accidentally, sipping coffee and reading a book. His heart skipped a beat as he watched you sit alone in the far corner. You looked beautiful, just as he remembered, with your hair falling in loose waves around your face. He couldn't believe it was you. The one person he had been thinking about for months was sitting just a few tables away from him.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, his heart racing with emotions he thought he had buried deep within. He tried to catch your eye, but you didn't look up from the book. He felt his heart sink as he realized that you didn't even know he was there.

Lando hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Part of him wanted to approach you and try to start a conversation, while the other part of him couldn't bear the thought of seeing you again after all this time. He had hurt you deeply, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face the consequences of his actions.

But as he sat there, lost in thought, he suddenly realized that he couldn't just sit idly by and watch you from a distance. He had to do something, even if it meant facing his fears head-on. It was now or never.

He got up from his seat and slowly walked over to your table, his heart beating faster with every step. You finally looked up from your book as he approached, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw who was standing in front of you.

-

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Quickly you made a mental check on what day it was. Early Friday evening.

Lando sighed, nerves getting the best of him as he stood before you. “I’m… I came home for my week off.” he said, his voice sounding small and unsure.

“You have a week off,” you weren’t sure if you were asking him, accusing him, laughing at your own stupidity or a secret fourth thing.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, his eyes unable to meet yours. “You’re saying it like it’s a crime,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here on a weekend.” you defended, realizing you were setting yourself for a trap. Not every weekend.

“Were you hoping I was out of the country?” he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm. He knew he was being defensive, but he couldn't help it. Being around you made him feel vulnerable, exposed.

Lando's question hung heavily in the air, his eyes still fixed on you. You felt a pang of guilt, knowing full well that you had been hoping to avoid him for a little while longer. But now that he was standing in front of you, you couldn't deny the pull you still felt towards him.

"I don't know what I was hoping for," you admitted, your eyes finally meeting his. "I just know I didn't expect to see you here."

"Neither did I," he said softly, taking a step closer to you. "But now that I am, can we talk?"

You looked at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him. He looked good, but different somehow. He seemed more vulnerable, more open than you remembered. It made your heart ache for him, but you tried to push the feeling away.

"Okay," you said, nodding your head. "Let's talk."

Lando let out a sigh of relief, his tense shoulders relaxing as he took a seat opposite of you.

“So, how have you been?” he asked, shuffling his feet slightly.

“I’ve been okay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to keep busy.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between you as you both tried to gather your thoughts. You couldn't help but notice how much he had changed since the last time you saw him. His hair was shorter, and he looked like he had put on some muscle. But it was his eyes that caught your attention the most. They looked tired and distant, like he had been carrying a heavy burden for a long time.

“How are-How are things with you?” you choked out.

Lando let out a small laugh, but it sounded hollow to your ears. "Things have been good, I guess," he said, his eyes flickering towards yours for a moment before darting away. "Work has been keeping me busy."

You nodded, not sure what to say. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him thriving without you. It didn't seem fair that he could move on so easily while you were still struggling in a way.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "For everything. For how I treated you, for how I acted. I was a fool, and I should have never let you go."

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not.” he cut you off harshly. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve set my priorities straight.”

“But you did.” you smiled to hide the pain as you said that, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“I was wrong. I was so wrong.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lando could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face, and he knew that he had a lot to answer for. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts before he spoke again.

“I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry.” he said. “I should have fought for you, instead of letting my pride get in the way. I missed you more than I could ever say, and being away from you only made me realize how much I need you in my life.”

You looked at him skeptically, unsure if you could believe him after all the pain he had caused you. But as you looked into his eyes, you could see the sincerity and regret that shone through.

“I don't know if you're ready to forgive me, and I don't expect you to right away,” he continued. “But I had to come and tell you how I feel and to try to make things right. If you’ll let me.”

He looked down as he finished his speech. You sat a few moments in silence, letting it all sink in before leaning over and reaching for his hand.

As soon as your fingers interlocked with his, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body. It had been so long since you had touched him, and it felt like coming home.

“Lando,” you called, wanting him to look at you. You only continued when he did. “I already forgave you. But as for the rest… I will need some time.” you said softly, not wanting to give him false hope. “But I appreciate your apology.”

"I understand," he said, squeezing your hand gently. "I'll give you all the time you need. Just know that I'm here whenever you're ready."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It wasn't a complete resolution, but it was a start. You sat in silence for a few more minutes, just holding each other's hands, before you finally pulled away.

"I should get going," you said, grabbing your book and standing up.

“Let me drive you home.” Lando said, standing up as well.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to spend more time alone with him. But as you looked into his earnest and apologetic gaze, you couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"Okay," you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. "Let's go."

Lando walked you to his car, opening the door for you and then walking around to the driver's side. As he started the engine, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. This was the same car he had driven you around in when you were together, and it felt strange to be sitting in it again.

The ride was mostly silent, with both of you lost in your own thoughts. But as you pulled up in front of your apartment building, Lando turned to you with a serious expression on his face.

"I know I have a lot to make up for," he said, his voice low and intense. “But I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious about this. I want us to be together again, if you'll have me."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. It was true that you still had feelings for Lando, but you weren't sure if it was enough to give him another chance. You needed time to think, to process everything that had happened between you two.

"I appreciate your sincerity, Lando," you said finally, meeting his gaze. "But I need some time alone to figure things out. Can you give me that?"

"Of course," he said, nodding his head. "I'll respect your wishes. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude towards him. Despite everything that had happened between you two, he still cared about your well-being. It was a comforting thought, and it made you realize that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the two of you.

"Thank you, Lando," you said, giving him a small smile. "I'll talk to you soon."

With that, you got out of the car and walked towards your building, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. Part of you was relieved to have some space to think, while another part of you was still hopeful for a future with Lando.

As you walked up the stairs to your apartment, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Would you be able to start anew, or would you remain apart forever? Only time would tell, but for now, all you could do was take things one day at a time.

[moonydustx]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Crocodile, Mihawk, Buggy (Cross guild), Whitebeard, Izou, and Charlotte Katakuri x Reader where They are in a Disney/ Fairy tale Story? (I've been watching Disney lately, and it's living in my Brain-Free.) Also a bonus: They break out in a song number.~

Hi Hi! I think this was the most complicated request I've ever received and to be honest, all my drafts didn't get anywhere that was interesting to read. So, in order not to be left without an answer, but also not to deliver something terrible, I decided to change the format a little (and I really hope you don't hate me for it)

--

Even though her father (grandfather in this version) is against all this, our little mermaid wants to find the surface world (again, pirate world) and see all the wonders that await him. You'll make different friends along the way and, above all, collect incredible things like a certain hat along the way.

Luffy

Our Beauty and the Beast story is a little more troubled here. Instead of a beast cursed by the witch, we just have an evil-looking and somewhat threatening man who still hasn't found a reason to let anyone get close to him. When the right person arrives, he will definitely become someone lovable - even if it involves some fights, wars and everything that can prevent anyone from interfering in the lives of the two of you.

Crocodile, Katakuri

Living the best life, without growing up, without responsibilities, just him and his people living happily in Neverland and disturbing the life of the pirate who passes by. Despite trying to bring our beloved Peter Pan to the real world, you would ultimately understand that Neverland is the place made for him to be free.

Buggy

I know, I know it's not exactly a fairy tale. But, our beloved Puss in Boots would be just as stubborn, adventurous and showy as this one. His sword would be the sharpest and most agile of all the kingdoms, apart from all the flame that only he has.

Mihawk

Bonus point: in a universe where Cross Guid is made up of enemies and we are in fairy tales/animations, Crocodile would be the wolf in the second film.

This one would be Sleeping Beauty, I don't think we even need to explain why. However, this sleeping beauty here chose to sleep for days straight after being in battle and when you tried to wake him up in a kind way - aka, the kiss of love - he hated it, after all, he was in the best part of sleep.

Zoro (and I'd include Buggy here too, I can see him grumbling about it).

The world was just a small view of the tower his mother trapped him in and of course, his mother knows better. Until he found himself being saved by someone fearless, brave (a bit of a scoundrel) who took him from his cruel mother's clutches and took him to explore the world - and that includes the nearest bakery.

Charlotte Katakuri, Sabo (I mean, his parents were pretty shitty)

He would definitely be Mufasa and he would make us suffer terribly with his loss, but he would have been a great father. (and you can't tell me that Ace wouldn't be the son with the chaotic and adventurous spirit also known as Simba)

Whitebeard

Bonus:

He would have to put up with you singing Let It Go in any situation, but he probably wouldn't get angry about it. Except when you were in a more intimate moment and you said that the cold wouldn't bother you anyway (and of course, he would create little ice drawings for you in the winter)

Aokiji

We also have Snow White: dreamy, kind, fearless too. Instead of seven dwarves, he has loyal companions. Some are more serious and angry, but ready to help our Snow White here and other cute and funny eaters.

Shanks (and yes Benn Beckman is our angry one in this one) ---

a/n: ok, I had more fun writing this than I thought I would

[amethystarachnid]

15. A Handcrafted Gift – The reader makes something special for the character—something unique and meaningful that reminds them they’re cared for. How does your character react? Can you write this with Tony Stark for me, please? Something for their first year anniversary (one idea)... but it can be whatever you think it's the best ❤️

CHRISTMAS SECRETS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: on the 25th of December it will be y/n and Tony's first anniversary and y/n wants to make something special, handcrafted by her, but hiding something from Tony stark (who almost lives at her apartment given of often he's there) is very difficult, especially when he knows something's up, and he isn't scared to use some smooth talk and kisses and stuff like that to convince her to tell him what his gift is. 

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The soft hum of Christmas carols plays from the small speaker on your kitchen counter, mingling with the scent of cinnamon and pine. Your apartment glows with the gentle light of fairy strings and the flicker of candles, a haven of warmth against the December chill outside. You’re seated at your dining table, fingers nimble and focused as you work on Tony’s gift, the details etched in your mind since October finally coming to life. A faint smile curls on your lips as you imagine his reaction—a rare moment of speechlessness from Tony Stark, the man who always has something to say.

The project is ambitious, maybe overly so. Handcrafting a personalized keepsake for a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist isn’t exactly straightforward. But you’re determined to make this first anniversary one he’ll never forget. Each brushstroke and detail feels intimate, a piece of you poured into the gift. You pause to sip your cocoa, glancing at the clock. The late afternoon stretches long ahead of you, promising hours of uninterrupted work. At least, that’s the plan.

Your peaceful bubble pops with a sudden buzz at the intercom. You glance at it, your heart skipping, and then rush to cover your work with a throw blanket. The clatter of your chair echoes as you step back to assess your hasty camouflage. Decent enough, you hope.

The intercom buzzes again.

"Hey, Y/N," Tony’s voice drawls, his tone warm and teasing, even through the crackly speaker. "Open up, would you? I’m freezing my nuts off out here."

You exhale a laugh, your chest tightening. Of course, he’d show up unannounced. He always does. Padding to the door, you press the button to let him in, smoothing your sweater as if that’ll somehow erase the slight guilt of hiding something from him.

Moments later, his presence fills the doorway. Tony’s bundled in a dark wool coat, a scarf loosely draped around his neck. Snowflakes cling to his messy hair, and his grin is lopsided, that infuriatingly charming mix of boyishness and arrogance. "Miss me?"

"Always," you say, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against his cheek. His cologne—a heady mix of spice and something distinctively him—lingers as he steps inside, shaking off the cold like it’s a minor inconvenience.

"You’ve been hiding," he remarks, his sharp eyes scanning the room with a casualness that doesn’t fool you. "No calls, no texts. Almost like you didn’t want me to come over."

You roll your eyes and shut the door. "Or maybe I’ve just been busy, Stark. Not everything’s about you, you know."

He smirks, peeling off his coat and hanging it on the hook. "Oh, but it is, sweetheart. You’re just too modest to admit it."

His gaze sweeps over the room again, lingering on the table for a beat longer than necessary. You follow his line of sight and curse inwardly. The blanket isn’t lying as flat as you thought.

"You redecorating or something?" he asks, sauntering toward the table. His fingers twitch like they’re itching to peek under the cover.

"Nope," you say quickly, stepping into his path. You plaster on your most innocent smile, which you know he sees right through. "Just, uh… rearranging some stuff. It’s nothing."

He stops, close enough that you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes. "Nothing, huh?"

"That’s right."

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You’re a terrible liar, Y/N."

Your breath catches, but you manage a nonchalant shrug. "And you’re terribly nosy."

"Fair. But it’s part of my charm." His hands settle lightly on your hips, thumbs tracing idle circles. "C’mon, tell me. What’s under the blanket? You’ve got that look—like you’re plotting something."

"It’s just… some stuff for work," you lie, cringing internally at how weak it sounds.

"Work?" He quirks an eyebrow. "Sweetheart, you’re not even convincing yourself."

You’re about to retort when he dips his head, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your neck. The heat of it makes your resolve falter, and he knows it. Damn him and his unfair tactics.

"Tony," you warn, though your voice comes out softer than intended.

"Y/N," he murmurs against your skin, his tone all mock seriousness. "What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing!"

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression a mix of amusement and suspicion. "You’re a terrible poker player, you know that? If we were in Vegas, you’d be broke in thirty minutes."

"Good thing we’re not in Vegas, then," you quip, trying to sidestep him. He blocks you effortlessly, grinning like the cat who’s about to eat the canary.

"Let me see." He moves toward the table again, and panic rises in your chest. You dart in front of him, arms outstretched like a human barricade.

"Tony, no."

He stops short, tilting his head. "No?"

"No."

His grin widens. "Now I really have to see."

"Tony, I’m serious," you insist, trying to sound stern, but the laughter bubbling undercuts your tone.

"And I’m curious," he counters, his hands sliding into his pockets as he studies you. He’s clearly enjoying this far too much. "This is cute, though—watching you scramble. What’s the big deal? Is it a new boyfriend? Should I be jealous?"

You snort. "Yes, Tony, I’ve replaced you with someone who doesn’t try to weasel secrets out of me every chance he gets."

"Sounds like a boring guy. You’re way too smart for that."

"Exactly. So why would I date someone who can’t take a hint?"

He laughs, his shoulders shaking, and for a moment, you think you’ve deflected successfully. But then his gaze sharpens, and he nods toward the blanket. "So, what’s under there?"

The shift in his tone catches you off guard. It’s softer now, less teasing, but no less persistent. He steps closer, his warmth radiating as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

"You don’t have to tell me," he says, his thumb brushing your jawline. "But if it’s important to you, I want to know."

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You bite your lip, torn. Telling him would ruin the surprise, but keeping it a secret feels like trying to hide sunlight behind a curtain.

"It’s nothing bad," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know that," he says gently. "You’re not exactly the supervillain type. But you’re being… weird. And as someone who thrives on weird, I’m intrigued."

You exhale a shaky laugh, your resolve wavering again. "It’s just—"

Before you can finish, your phone buzzes loudly on the counter, the sound breaking the moment. Tony glances toward it, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

"Saved by the bell," he says, though his tone carries a hint of disappointment.

You take the opportunity to step away, grabbing your phone to answer the call. As you speak, you glance over your shoulder, watching him lean casually against the table. His eyes linger on the blanket for a moment before shifting to meet yours, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

This isn’t over. You can feel it.

You end the call and turn back to Tony, who’s still leaning against the table like he owns the place, which, to be fair, he nearly does with how often he’s here. His eyes are on you, twinkling with mischief, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity that you know won’t go away anytime soon.

“So,” he says, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Where were we?”

“Where I tell you to mind your own business,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light as you walk over and nudge him away from the table. He lets you, but not without a knowing chuckle.

“Sure, sure,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll drop it—for now. But don’t think I’ve forgotten, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing the blanket-covered project and subtly moving it toward your bedroom. Tony watches you with amusement, clearly aware you’re up to something, but he doesn’t press. Not yet, anyway. You shove the whole thing into your closet, burying it under a pile of sweaters for good measure. He can’t find what he doesn’t know exists.

When you return to the living room, Tony’s kicked off his shoes and is sprawled on the couch like he’s lived here his whole life. One arm is slung over the backrest, and he’s scrolling through something on his phone, his face lit by the faint glow of the screen.

“You staying?” you ask, arching a brow as you lean against the doorway.

“Obviously,” he says without looking up, his tone casual. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you all alone on a cold December night? Besides, I’m invested now. Can’t leave until I crack the case.”

You snort, walking over to pluck his phone out of his hand. He protests weakly but lets you do it, his gaze flicking up to yours with a grin. “You’re not cracking anything.”

“We’ll see.” He tugs you down onto the couch, pulling you into his lap with ease. His arms wrap around your waist, warm and secure, and you feel the tension of the day start to melt away. “Missed you, you know.”

“I saw you two days ago,” you point out, though you soften at his words.

“Two days too long,” he says, nuzzling your neck. “You know how I get. Can’t go more than 48 hours without my favorite person.”

Your heart flutters despite yourself, and you lean back into him, letting the moment linger. His lips brush against your shoulder, and you sigh contentedly, your earlier panic about the gift momentarily forgotten.

The evening unfolds with an easy rhythm. You throw together a simple dinner—pasta and garlic bread—while Tony hovers in the kitchen, stealing bites and offering unsolicited commentary on your cooking techniques. He insists on setting the table, which mostly involves him putting plates and glasses in all the wrong places until you shoo him away with a laugh.

Over dinner, the two of you talk about everything and nothing. He tells you about the latest project at Stark Industries, his words animated as he sketches out ideas with his hands. You tease him about how many times he says “game-changer” in one conversation, and he retaliates by stealing a piece of your garlic bread. The sound of your laughter fills the apartment, blending with the faint hum of the Christmas carols still playing in the background.

Afterward, you settle back on the couch with a bottle of wine, the two of you nestled under a blanket. The city lights twinkle through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. Tony’s arm is draped over your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm as you talk.

“So,” he says eventually, his voice low and playful. “Are you ready to tell me what you’re hiding yet?”

You groan, burying your face in his chest. “Tony, drop it.”

“Can’t,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s against my nature. You should know that by now.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though there’s no real heat in your words.

“And yet, you love me,” he counters, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin.

You glance up at him, your gaze meeting his. The warmth in his eyes makes your heart ache in the best way, and for a moment, you forget why you’re even trying to keep something from him in the first place.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I do.”

The smirk fades, replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring the moment. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, and for a while, the rest of the world fades away.

When you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not off the hook, you know,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I figured,” you say, laughing quietly.

The rest of the night passes in a comfortable haze of laughter and quiet moments. You put on a cheesy Christmas movie, and Tony spends most of it making sarcastic comments about the plot, though you catch him humming along to the songs more than once. By the time the credits roll, you’re curled up against him, your eyelids heavy with sleep.

“You’re staying the night, right?” you murmur, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” he says, his hand brushing through your hair. “Not when I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Your heart swells, and you tilt your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Good.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, though you’re smiling.

As you drift off, you feel his arms tighten around you, his presence a steady anchor. Despite his relentless curiosity, you know he’ll respect your secret—for now, at least. But you also know this is Tony Stark, and he’s nothing if not persistent.

Tomorrow, you think with a small smile, you’ll just have to be a little more creative in keeping your secret safe.

The morning light filters through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the bed. You stir slightly, still cocooned in the warmth of the blankets and Tony’s arms. He’s awake—of course he is—his head propped on one hand as he watches you with a soft smile. His other arm is wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close, his fingers idly tracing patterns against your hip.

You mumble something unintelligible, burrowing deeper into the pillow. Tony chuckles, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. He leans down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs.

You groan in protest, pulling the blanket over your head. “Too early,” you mumble.

“For you, maybe. For me, it’s the perfect time to ask a few questions,” he says, his tone teasing.

You crack one eye open, squinting up at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He grins, devilishly handsome in the morning light. “What? I can’t help it if I’m curious.”

“Tired,” you mutter, trying to bury yourself back into his chest. He obliges, pulling you closer, but you don’t miss the way his hand moves in gentle, coaxing strokes, as though his touch alone might loosen your sleepy resolve.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “What’s under the blanket?”

“Hmm?” you mumble, half-asleep.

“The blanket,” he continues, his voice a velvety murmur. “What were you hiding yesterday?”

“Not telling,” you mutter, more coherent now, though you still sound groggy.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he coaxes, his fingers brushing along your arm. “Just a little hint?”

“Nice try, Stark,” you say, your voice muffled but amused. “Still not telling.”

He sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re relentless,” you retort, a small smile tugging at your lips even as you drift back to sleep.

By the time you fully wake up, Tony’s no longer in bed, though the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen suggest he’s taken it upon himself to make coffee—or at least attempt to. You stretch lazily before throwing on a sweater and making your way out to join him.

Sure enough, he’s at the counter, wearing a shirt that definitely belongs to him but somehow ended up in your closet. He’s already sipping a mug of coffee, and another waits for you on the counter.

“You’re up,” he says, turning to greet you with a smile.

“And you’re already drinking my coffee,” you tease, taking the mug he’s prepared for you.

“Guilty.” He winks, leaning casually against the counter. “But in my defense, it’s not stealing if I made it.”

You take a sip, humming in approval, and he looks entirely too pleased with himself. As you sit down at the small kitchen table, he slides into the chair across from you, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous glint.

“So,” he starts, resting his chin on one hand, “about this little secret of yours—”

“Tony.”

“What? I’m just saying, I’m very good at keeping secrets. It’s literally in my job description.”

“You mean the job where you tell the press everything about yourself?” you ask, arching a brow.

He feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart. “I don’t tell them everything. Just the stuff that makes me look good.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Nice try, but the answer’s still no.”

The day unfolds with the same playful banter. After breakfast, Tony changes into another outfit he’s left behind—a testament to how often he’s here—and the two of you head out to run a few errands. He insists on carrying the groceries when you stop at the store, though he spends most of the time sneaking extra snacks into the cart while you’re not looking.

At one point, as you’re walking back to the car, he leans down, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You know, if you told me what you’re hiding, I could help you make it better. Two heads are better than one, right?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, but I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m very good at surprises. Have you seen my resume?”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” you reply, grinning. “But this one’s all mine.”

Back at the apartment, the two of you spend the afternoon decorating the tree. Tony insists on making it “high-tech,” suggesting LEDs that sync to music and other ridiculous ideas. You veto most of them, though you let him tinker with the lights just to see him light up with excitement.

Later, as you’re putting the finishing touches on the ornaments, he sidles up behind you, his hands settling on your waist. His lips brush against your neck, and you shiver, though not from the cold.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “If you tell me, I’ll stop asking.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” you reply, your smile evident in your tone.

He laughs, spinning you around to face him. “Okay, you’re right. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of laughter and shared moments. When the sun dips below the horizon, you find yourselves curled up on the couch again, a movie playing in the background while Tony’s hand rests on your thigh.

At one point, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that starts slow but quickly deepens. His hands slide up to cradle your face, and for a while, all thoughts of his relentless curiosity melt away. But then he pulls back, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Still not gonna tell me, huh?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “You’re killing me, Y/N.”

“You’ll survive,” you reply, running your fingers through his hair.

As the evening stretches on, his attempts to charm the secret out of you become increasingly creative. At one point, he peppers kisses along your jawline, his hands roaming over your sides as he murmurs promises of “no judgment” if you tell him. When that doesn’t work, he tries distracting you with a massage, his hands firm yet gentle as they work out the tension in your shoulders.

“Tony,” you warn, though your voice is softened by a contented sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Isn’t it?” he counters, his tone playful. “Because you seem pretty relaxed to me.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face.

“And you’re stubborn,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “But I like that about you.”

By the time the two of you crawl into bed that night, he’s still no closer to cracking your secret. But as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close against his chest, he seems content to let it go—for now.

“You know I’ll figure it out eventually,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Good luck,” you reply, your voice laced with affection.

As sleep begins to claim you, you feel his hand resting lightly on your back, his presence a steady comfort. Despite his endless curiosity, you know he won’t push you further than you’re willing to go. And for that, you love him even more.

The apartment is blissfully quiet, save for the soft hum of Christmas music playing from your phone. A few candles flicker on the counter, casting a warm glow over the room as you work. Your hands move quickly yet carefully, the finishing touches on Tony’s gift finally coming together. It’s taken weeks of planning, hours of trial and error, and more than a few late nights, but now it’s done, and you can’t help the swell of pride that blooms in your chest.

The gift—a handcrafted, personalized piece that speaks to Tony’s love of tech and your shared memories—rests on the table before you, gleaming in the soft light. It’s small but intricate, with hidden details only someone as brilliant as Tony would appreciate. You’ve designed it with him in mind, every element a reflection of how much he means to you.

Just as you tie the final ribbon on the wrapping paper, your phone buzzes on the counter. You glance at the screen, heart skipping when you see Tony’s name pop up.

Be home in 10. Mission wrapped early. Miss me?

A pang of panic flutters through you as you glance at the clock. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another few hours, which would have given you plenty of time to hide the gift properly. Now, though, you’ve got ten minutes to make sure he doesn’t find it—or worse, that he doesn’t unravel the entire surprise.

Grabbing the gift, you rush to your bedroom, your heart racing as you shove it into the deepest corner of your closet. You pile a few blankets and boxes over it for good measure, muttering under your breath about Tony’s impeccable timing. By the time you hear the sound of the elevator, you’ve just managed to close the closet door and smooth your hair.

The door swings open, and there he is—Tony Stark, looking every bit the part of the hero who’s just come back from saving the world. His hair is slightly tousled, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, and his trademark smirk firmly in place. But his eyes, warm and familiar, light up when they meet yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Miss me?”

“Always,” you reply, walking over to greet him. He pulls you into his arms without hesitation, his embrace warm and grounding. The scent of his cologne lingers on his skin, mingled with the faint metallic tang of the suit he’d undoubtedly just peeled off.

You tilt your head up, and he kisses you softly, his lips brushing against yours in a way that makes the world fade for just a moment. When he pulls back, his gaze lingers on your face, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Something smells good,” he says, his eyes flicking toward the kitchen. “Were you baking without me?”

“Not baking,” you say, stepping back to give him space to shrug off his jacket. “Just… working on something.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and Tony’s brow arches in interest. “Working on something, huh?” he repeats, his tone instantly suspicious. “Let me guess—it’s the same ‘something’ you’ve been hiding from me for days?”

You try to play it cool, shrugging casually as you walk back to the kitchen. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s none of your business.”

He follows you, leaning against the counter with a knowing smile. “You know, the more you try to hide it, the more curious I get.”

“I’m aware,” you say, rolling your eyes. “That’s why I’m not telling you.”

He narrows his eyes, studying you like you’re one of his blueprints. You know that look—he’s piecing something together, and he’s far too clever for his own good. His gaze drifts toward the living room, where the remnants of your crafting supplies still sit on the table. You mentally kick yourself for not clearing them away sooner.

“Hmm,” he hums, pushing off the counter to walk over. He picks up a stray piece of ribbon, turning it over in his hands. “You’ve been busy.”

“Tony,” you warn, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

He looks back at you, a glint of triumph in his eyes. “It’s a gift, isn’t it?”

You cross your arms, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, persuasive tone he uses when he’s trying to get his way. He steps closer, the ribbon still dangling from his fingers. “You’re killing me here.”

“You’ll survive,” you reply, though your heart skips when he’s suddenly so close.

He sets the ribbon down, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” for emphasis.

His lips twitch with a smile, though there’s a hint of frustration in his eyes. “You’re too good at this.”

“I’ve had practice,” you tease, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “And you’re predictable.”

“Predictable?” he echoes, feigning offense. “I’m the least predictable man you’ve ever met.”

“Sure,” you say with a grin, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “Whatever you say, Stark.”

The playful tension lingers as the evening goes on. Tony changes into something more comfortable—another outfit he’s left here over time—and the two of you settle in for dinner. But even as you laugh and talk, you can feel his curiosity bubbling beneath the surface. Every now and then, he throws out a casual question or a sly remark, clearly testing the waters.

“So,” he says at one point, leaning back in his chair with a glass of wine in hand. “This thing you’re hiding… should I be worried? Is it dangerous? Explosive, maybe?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s not dangerous.”

“Explosive, then.”

“Not unless you decide to blow it up.”

He smirks, taking a sip of his wine. “Tempting.”

After dinner, the two of you end up on the couch again, Tony’s arm draped over your shoulders as he fiddles with a remote to adjust the lights. The room glows softly, the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner.

“You know,” he says, his voice casual but with an edge of mischief, “if I just looked around while you were in the shower or something, I’d probably find it.”

You shoot him a look, sitting up slightly. “Don’t even think about it.”

He grins, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Good.”

“Not yet, anyway,” he adds under his breath.

“Tony!”

He laughs, pulling you back against him. “Kidding. Mostly.”

The playful back-and-forth continues late into the night, his questions becoming more creative—and borderline ridiculous—as he tries to trip you up. But you stand your ground, refusing to let him ruin the surprise you’ve worked so hard on.

Eventually, he sighs dramatically, resting his head against yours. “You’re lucky I love you, you know.”

“I know,” you say, smiling against his shoulder. “And I love you too.”

As you drift off in his arms, you can’t help but feel a sense of triumph. The gift is finished, the secret intact—for now. But with Tony Stark, you know the game is far from over.

The 24th of December arrives in a flurry of excitement, the crisp winter air carrying with it the smell of snow and the faint sound of carolers in the distance. Your apartment is aglow with festive cheer, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree casting playful shadows across the room. You’re in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner, while Tony, predictably, has made himself at home on the couch, scrolling through his tablet with one hand and nursing a glass of mulled wine with the other.

You glance at the clock—7:45 p.m. Dinner is almost ready, and you decide it’s time to move the gift from its hiding spot. Tony’s been suspicious for weeks now, but he still hasn’t pieced together the full picture, and tonight is the night to finally set the stage for your surprise.

Quietly, you slip into the bedroom and head to the closet. Your heart races a little as you uncover the box, carefully wrapped in festive paper with a ribbon you painstakingly tied just so. It’s perfect, and as you carry it out to the living room, you feel a mix of pride and nervous anticipation.

Tony glances up as you reenter the room, his brows lifting when he sees the gift in your hands. You ignore the way his gaze sharpens, walking calmly to the tree and setting it down right next to the neatly wrapped box he’d placed there earlier.

When you turn around, he’s already halfway out of his seat, his tablet forgotten on the cushion beside him.

“So, it is a gift,” he says, his tone triumphant.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “What else would it be?”

“I knew it,” he declares, striding over to the tree. He crouches down, his fingers brushing the edge of the paper as if he might unravel the mystery right then and there.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn, folding your arms and giving him a pointed look.

He glances up at you, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “But it’s Christmas Eve.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” you counter. “You can wait a few more hours.”

“Four hours, to be exact,” he says, standing up and crossing his arms in mock indignation. “And you’re really going to make me suffer through all of them, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you say simply, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

The battle begins in earnest after dinner. By 8 p.m., Tony is back on the couch, his glass of wine refilled, and his focus fixed entirely on you. His earlier attempts to deduce what you were working on pale in comparison to his newfound determination to get you to crack.

He starts off slow, his tone casual as he gestures toward the tree. “You know, I’ve got a pretty solid track record of opening presents early. Just ask Pepper.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Good for you. You’re not breaking that record tonight.”

He huffs, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you hear that? That’s the sound of my spirit breaking.”

“Your spirit will survive,” you reply, your voice light but firm. “Midnight, Tony. Not a minute sooner.”

He groans dramatically, leaning his head back against the couch. “You’re a cruel woman, Y/N.”

The hours tick by, each one marked by Tony’s increasingly creative attempts to persuade you. At 8:30, he tries bribery, offering to cook dinner for a week if you let him open it early. At 9:00, he switches tactics, leaning close and murmuring sweet, persuasive words against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in a way that makes your resolve waver—if only slightly.

“Tony,” you say, laughing as you push him away. “You’re not playing fair.”

“All’s fair in love and Christmas,” he counters, his grin unapologetic.

By 10:00, he’s practically begging, sitting cross-legged in front of the tree and staring longingly at the gift. “Just one peek,” he says, holding up his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate how small a peek he wants. “I won’t even unwrap the whole thing. Just the corner.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“It is tonight.”

At 11:00, he tries reverse psychology, dramatically declaring that he doesn’t care what’s in the box and doesn’t want to open it at all. You roll your eyes, laughing as you call him out on his obvious bluff.

“Fine,” he says, standing up and pacing the room. “You’re good. I’ll give you that. But the clock is ticking, Y/N. Midnight’s not far off.”

By 11:45, he’s abandoned all pretense of subtlety. He flops down on the couch beside you, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you. His head rests on your shoulder, and his voice is soft but laced with mock desperation.

“Please?” he whispers. “Just this once?”

You turn to face him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. His brown eyes are warm and pleading, and for a moment, you almost—almost—consider giving in.

“No,” you say, leaning down to kiss his nose. “But nice try.”

He groans, falling back against the cushions. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re relentless,” you reply, smiling as you snuggle into his side.

When the clock finally strikes midnight, Tony’s impatience reaches a fever pitch. He all but dives for the tree, grabbing your gift and holding it up triumphantly. You laugh as he tears into the wrapping paper, his excitement contagious.

Tony’s hands linger on the unwrapped box, his expression softening with curiosity and something more vulnerable—an unspoken gratitude for the care you’ve poured into this moment. Inside, nestled within protective foam, is your creation: a custom, miniature arc reactor-inspired keepsake, its polished metal surface glinting under the tree’s lights.

But it isn’t just a replica. You’ve painstakingly designed it as a fusion of his world and yours. Around the glowing blue center are intricate engravings: constellations marking the night sky on your first date, subtle notches forming coordinates of the spot where he first confessed he loved you, and a delicate frame inlaid with a looping pattern—your initials and his intertwined in Morse code.

The piece is mounted on a solid base, its underside inscribed with a quote from Tony’s favorite piece of literature, “Part of the journey is the end.” But in this context, it’s no farewell—just a testament to the continuous journey of your relationship, one you’re building together.

Tony cradles the gift, the glowing core reflecting in his eyes. “Y/N…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. For a moment, he seems at a loss for words. His fingers trace the engravings, pausing at the Morse code. When he deciphers it, a faint smile curves his lips. “You did this? All of it?”

You nod, a mix of pride and nervousness fluttering in your chest. “I wanted it to feel like us. Something… meaningful.”

He turns to you, setting the piece down with the reverence it deserves before pulling you close. His hands cup your face, and his eyes are searching, warm. “Sweetheart, this… this is unbelievable. I mean, I’ve had some fancy gifts in my life, but this? It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You laugh softly, touched by his sincerity. “I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. I wanted to show you.”

“You didn’t just show me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You knocked me off my feet. You always do.”

For a moment, you both sit in the glow of the tree, the gift gleaming between you. Then, with an almost childlike excitement, Tony springs to his feet and grabs the package he’d set under the tree earlier.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says, handing it to you with an eager grin. “Open it.”

You hesitate, partly to tease him, but mostly because his anticipation is contagious. Finally, you tear into the paper, revealing a sleek black box embossed with gold lettering: Van Cleef & Arpels.

“Tony…” you begin, your breath catching. This isn’t just a gift; it’s a statement.

“Keep going,” he urges, practically vibrating with excitement.

Inside, nestled on a velvet bed, is the most exquisite necklace you’ve ever seen. It’s delicate but striking, a white gold chain with a pendant shaped like a starburst. The center of the star gleams with a brilliant diamond, surrounded by smaller stones that shimmer like captured starlight. It’s timeless and beautiful—elegant in a way that mirrors his perception of you.

He kneels beside you, gently taking the necklace from the box and holding it up. “I saw it and thought of you,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Not because of the sparkle or the price tag, but because it reminded me of how you light up every room you walk into. You’re my north star, Y/N. You always find a way to guide me back when I need it most.”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Tony, it’s… it’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmurs, brushing your hair aside and clasping the necklace around your neck. His hands linger on your shoulders as you reach up to touch the pendant, your fingers brushing against his.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, turning to look at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he interrupts, his tone firm but full of affection. “Because you deserve it. You deserve everything.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and for a moment, there’s only silence—comfortable, full, brimming with the unspoken love that defines your relationship.

Then, in true Tony Stark fashion, he breaks the moment with a teasing grin. “So, we’re both amazing gift-givers. I guess this makes us a power couple now, huh?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think we were already there.”

“Well, it’s official now.” He pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. “But seriously, you’ve outdone yourself, Y/N. That arc reactor? Genius. How’d you even manage it without me noticing?”

“Trade secret,” you reply, smirking.

“Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “And here I thought you loved me enough to share your secrets.”

You grin, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Maybe next year.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Dating Neige LeBlanche Headcanons

I write Reader/Yuu as female

Masterlist

He’s the absolute epitome of a fairytale prince I swear. Like Snow White, he’s such a forest nymph - animals just flock to him (honestly same)

His favourite pet name for you is ‘dove’ but he does love calling you ‘snowdrop’ 

He’s so kind and gentle and he’s filled with so much tender adoration ♡

He is fair and beautiful both outside and in and it shows all the time okay

Think of the personification of innocent young romance. He’s that.

You both are constantly giving each other butterflies, it’s adorable. 

Since you live in NRC, he likes to send his bird friends to give you his love. Usually white doves would nestle and rub against your cheek, softly cooing, or blue birds would fly to your window with a scented love letter attached to their talons.

Your animal friends are very much acting as your wingmen and they love to playfully push you together

The seven dwarfs love you and have been shipping the two of you since the moment you met

Being a celebrity, he knows the importance of privacy and whether you want your relationship to be secret or public he’ll be 1000% supportive

If you’re comfortable with a public relationship, he’s definitely written at least one love song thinking about you

You’re the first person to get any of his new products - even the ones that aren’t even released yet

One the first things he does with you, before you even start dating, is show you his secret hideout in RSA and the wishing well he loves to sit and sing by

He has a white mare and he loves it when you ride with him

His favourite pieces of outerwear are his cherry red cape, cloak and jacket and he just loves to drape them over you (you love it more since they never fail to carry his scent)

Berry picking dates! Strolls along the forest dates! Baking dates! Just being in each others’ presence dates!

Definitely an acts of service kind of guy

Prince Rielle is the president of your ship (this doesn’t really have anything to do with the headcanons I just wanted to get that out there)

This sweetheart just lives for forehead and cheek kisses (both giving and receiving)

He’ll take any opportunity to sing - his motto is ‘with a smile and a song’ after all

He’s very much a classical romantic and absolutely adores poetry 

He likes to dance with you - he gets so excited waltzing with you in public but the intimacy of being alone with you is incomparable 

He never fails to give you a bouquet of flowers (if that’s your thing) whenever he meets you no matter how swift or mundane the meeting is

He’s so considerate and open about everything. He only tries to hide his feelings when he gets upset or overwhelmed or not as sunny as he usually is - not necessarily because he wants to keep things from you but because he knows that if you see him upset, you’ll get upset and he never wants to see you upset. This only lasts for a minute at most because he hates keeping things from you and you can see right through him (not that it’s an easy feat - this boy is an award-winning actor)

He’s a king at sympathy and comfort and always knows exactly what to do when you’re feeling down

The both of you like to read and act out fairy tales together.

If you enjoy singing, you bet that he’d duet with you

He never fails to text you good morning and goodnight

He’s only got one heart that’s constantly singing one song, only for you.

[aqwnstars]

Give me siren scara or bratty mermaid scara hc pls. I'm begging you. I'm on the floor. I'm bashing my head on the wall.

HEY POOKIE<33 TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!

- A.N- I haven't been writing lately because my schools getting harder and I recently got an F in an exam so i have to study so the alpha scara isn't coming out soon so sorry my lovelies :(( I try to do my requests first, and then any other fanfic i started doing, but since fanfics take me a week or so to write, this one.... will be written in a headcanon format.. I'm not that experienced with writing a hc format so any criticism is appreciated, in a later time i might make a whole fanfic<33 (FUUCKKCKKKS I FORGOT TO WRITE HIM AS A BRAT ONEOMFMKOAKXKSK)

uhhmmmm i keep noticing i always write scara pining over reader which im not sure if its TOTTALLLYY in character, but writing him pinininy is cute so stfu🙏🙏🙏

Siren Scaramouche x partially deaf gn reader

Word count: 686 (short one..)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None!!

Pronouns: You/Yours, reader can be any gender (meant to be gender neutral!!)

Loving waves

Siren! Scaramouche who was known in the underwater world as the most majestic siren out of all.

His voice was such a lulling song so much so that anyone who gave him their listening ear couldn't help but be entranced.

And how shocked he was when he met a person he couldn't lure in.

He began to only think about them, at first planning on how to kill them because he wouldn't let someone he choose to lure in and kill survive, due to his ego, but that began to turn into a genuine interest a few weeks later.

Without thinking about it, Scaramouche had spent hours just staring at you, he wouldn't say it's admiring of course.

It has become a routine at this point, you'd go work outside, maybe take a walk and he'd just stare at you, gazing longingly at your features from afar.

The way you two met would be as if it was straight out of a fairy tale, he'd get caught up in a fishing web, and you'd be his knight in shining armor!!

Him, being a siren, is seen as a terrifying being, a coldblooded murderer, but to you he was such a majestic being, if you were more naive you'd think he was a God (in which case, he wouldn't complain!!)

Everyday since you had saved him, you started to visit him. You brought little trinkets from your home, and he brought you a few shells. (sometimes that is, if you're lucky!!) Might I add, the shells he gifted you were like no other. They range in colors and shapes, not even the most avid collecters saw the shells he had given you.

He enjoyed spending time with you, more than he thought he would. He has gotten used to being alone, so a daily presence in his life was something unusual.

He'd let you touch his tail, his face turning pink as you compliment him. Your fingers on his tail, lightly caressing his scales. He couldn't help but look away as you admired him. If anyone else had requested to touch his tail, he'd plan a new song just for them, ...let's ignore the fact he offered to let you touch his tail, that's an unimportant detail.

One of the things he loved, ahem... liked most about you is the gentleness your eyes hold. He has gotten so used to the trashing waves of hatred in the mankinds eyes, but to see one's with calming flowing water? He could and would get lost in that body of water, no hesitation, of course he wouldn't tell you that though!

He wanted to listeh to you all day, anyone who said his voice was enchanting has never heard yours. Although you sometimes slur your words, stutter and at times get too loud, he loves that about you.

At times he wished you were a siren too, how beautiful would you look under the waters light he wonders. How would your tail sway in the oceans, rivers and seas?

One time, you asked him whether or not he can sing without indangering someone, he had never thought about that. Well of course he's not gonna risk losing his only love to find out, but that's a story for another day.

A few things I can definitely see him doing is;

Giving you his scales! He could tell how you always admired his tail, your eyes glowing at how his tail would practically shine under the Suns light. One night, he'd pluck a scale out, later in the say give it to you, saying: "It had accidentally fallen out, here. Don't think for a second I pulled it out for you." All while looking away, trying to look as non-chalant as possible while.. panicking inside over your reaction.

This might seem cruel, but he'd sing to insects, without the intention of killing them, to see if he can sing to you without putting you in danger.

He'd look around the seas floor for hours to find a shell that you'd like!! (.. you like everything he gives you so that's... pointless..)

AND THAT'S ALL I HAVE ON SIREN SCARA!!! :DD I HOPE I SATISFIED YOUR REQUEST POOKIE!!! (hope i did the hc format right..............

[pandapetals]

Slim Pickins

logan howlett x fem!reader- angsty, reader lowkey hates logan, inspired by sabrina carpenter's song slim pickens

read on Ao3

Without a doubt, you knew you were going to end up alone. The thought crept in after every disappointing date, every one-night stand that left you cold, every late-night text that led nowhere. All the guys you met were the same—douchebags with oversized egos and nothing real to offer. It was a pattern you couldn't break, a cycle that seemed destined to repeat. Why was it so hard to find a decent guy?

You didn’t even need perfect. You weren’t looking for some fairy-tale romance or a knight in shining armor. You just wanted someone who didn’t make you feel like you were settling for less than you deserved.

Then there was Logan.

You’d sized him up the moment you met him—jacked, rough around the edges, with a perpetual scowl and a short temper to match. He walked like he owned the room, his shoulders tense, his eyes dark, and he had the kind of attitude that practically screamed “trouble.” You’d rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, dismissing him in an instant. He wasn’t your type. You knew his kind. And after a few clipped conversations, you were more than certain Logan was exactly the kind of guy you couldn’t stand.

“Douchebag,” you’d muttered after he’d walked off from another pointless exchange.

And you didn’t hold back either. You bitched and complained about him to anyone who’d listen—Charles, Scott, Storm, anyone within earshot of your growing frustration.

“He’s impossible,” you’d said one night over beers with Storm, your voice rising with indignation. “He’s not a team player, doesn’t listen to anyone, and doesn’t even get me started on his attitude. You know what he said to me earlier?”

Storm had given you a knowing look but let you rant anyway. Everyone had opinions about Logan, after all. He was easy to dislike, a ball of raw energy, constantly on the edge of something dark and dangerous.

“He’s just... ugh,” you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t get why anyone puts up with him.”

But deep down, beneath all the complaining, something gnawed at you. Something you didn’t want to admit.

You hadn’t seen it right away—not until one mission changed everything.

It had been chaotic, a nightmare situation where nothing went as planned. The team had been dispatched to rescue a group of mutant kids who had been captured by some underground militia. The operation had gone sideways almost immediately. You’d been cornered, pinned down by enemy fire, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as panic crept in. And then—Logan.

You saw him, right in the thick of it, moving with a kind of brutal precision that took your breath away. He tore through the enemy lines like it was nothing, claws flashing, his eyes wild and fierce. But what caught you wasn’t the violence—it was the way he threw himself into the rescue without a second thought. No hesitation, no fear, just pure instinct as he fought his way to those kids.

The moment you saw him lift one of the terrified children into his arms, shielding them from harm with his own body, something inside you shifted. He wasn’t careful, wasn’t gentle, but there was a raw protectiveness in his actions that hit you like a punch to the gut.

You watched him take down another wave of attackers, blood streaking his face, his body moving like a machine—powerful, unrelenting. And then, as he brought the last of the kids to safety, something unexpected flared in your chest.

Respect.

He was more than your first impression.

You didn’t want to admit it, but Logan wasn’t just the hot-tempered, arrogant jerk you’d made him out to be. There was something deeper there, something you’d been too quick to write off. The way he fought, the way he protected those kids, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help—it unsettled you. Because it meant you’d been wrong about him.

Being wrong about Logan was a lot more dangerous than you wanted to acknowledge.

Days passed after that mission, but you couldn’t shake the image of him—the way he’d looked standing there, bloodied but unbroken, with a kid clinging to him like he was some kind of savior. The frustration you felt toward him softened, and changed. You found yourself noticing things about him you hadn’t before. The way his gruffness wasn’t just aggression, but a shield. The way he stayed on the fringes of the group, never quite fitting in, but always there when it mattered.

You didn’t complain about him as much after that. You didn’t have much to say when Scott made some offhand comment about Logan’s attitude or when Storm chuckled about his lone-wolf tendencies. Instead, you found yourself defending him in small, subtle ways, even if it was just a quiet “He gets the job done.”

It was a shift you didn’t want to admit, but one that was impossible to ignore. The more you tried to fight it, the more you felt the pull.

And Logan—he noticed.

You’d catch him watching you now, his dark eyes lingering longer than before, his smirk a little less cocky, a little more curious. He never said much, never one for words, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your pulse quicken.

One night, after a particularly long and exhausting mission, you found yourself alone with him in the briefing room. Everyone else had already left, and you were sorting through some files when Logan approached, his boots heavy on the floor. You didn’t look up, but your body tensed, already attuned to his presence.

“You were good out there,” he said gruffly, voice low and gravelly.

You glanced up, surprised by the unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” you muttered, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren’t his style, and it threw you off balance.

Logan leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. “You’re not as annoying as I thought,” he added, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “High praise coming from you.”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air thick with something that felt different now. Less hostile, more... charged. You didn’t know what to do with it, and this new dynamic was between you. It wasn’t the same as before, but you weren’t sure what it was either.

Logan pushed off the table and started to walk away, but then paused, looking back at you over his shoulder. “See you around, kid.”

You scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’m not a kid, Logan.”

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with something almost playful. “Yeah. I know.”

Just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding harder than it should have been, your mind racing with thoughts you weren’t ready to unpack.

Logan wasn’t perfect. Hell, he was far from it. Maybe there was more to him than you’d given him credit for.

That scared you more than anything.

[bones4thecats]

How Did They Meet Their Singer! S/O?

Type of Writing: #4 - Poll Result Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, and Eoel Felmier Name: How Did They Meet Their Singer! S/O? Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: In Vil's part, the story I mentioned in completely fictional, basically was something I made up on the spot, and I also mentioned songs after the piece of a characters that I can see them singing with their S/O!

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👑 Vil is a famous person within Twisted Wonderland, and, due to his standing, he was getting many different offers for some movies that were going into production

👑 One stood out more than others, it was the retelling of an old book series that his father used to read to him all the time as a kid, The Apple of the Roses

👑 This story was kinda like a fairy-tale, with its own twist, that being the main character turned out to be the real villain of the story, and it just felt nice having himself be offered such a role, as the supposed 'main antagonist'

👑 He knew there was going to be singing, as it was specified as a musical-re-telling, so, he also expected his character's love interest to be a grand singer themselves

👑 But, when it was announced that you, the newest addiction to a mass of rising singers, was set to be his love interest, he suddenly really wanted to meet you and start practicing, which was not normal for him

👑 When you stood in front of him, dressed up all nice while maintaining the most polite expression you could muster, he was quite taken-aback, normally people are super on-edge around him

👑 Well, everyone besides that damned Neige

👑 Vil set his headphones on his ears as he watched you do the same across the glass panel, laying the sheet of lyrics on the stand as you adjusted the microphone to fit your needs, and he cleared his throat and nodded his signal to the people viewing

👑 He'd be lying if he said he wasn't shocked when he heard you sing your lines, your honey-coated voice swapping between powerful and soft like nothing

👑 Oh, he was going to enjoy making this more than he thought...

Mount Rageous ~ Link Rewrite the Stars ~ Link Close ~ Link I Don't Wanna Live Forever ~ Link

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🏹 He was first introduced to your music when he joined Pomefiore, and Vil was speaking about his new friend in the industry, a singer by the name of Y/N L/N

🏹 Rook listened intently as Vil spoke about your talent, about how your voice could vary based on the tone and loudness of the music being played, and Rook was very much wanting to meet you and hear your voice

🏹 Not just by some app on his phone, but by a real-time show

🏹 So, when Vil decided to have Rook go with him on a small trip during Spring Vacation to watch him perform and record with you, he jumped up and pledged how amazing this was and honored he'd be to see the most fair and the fairest-voiced in the land in the same room

🏹 You walked inside and hugged Vil, asking how his time at Night Raven was and he answered with an polite 'well' and he introduced you and the hunter to one another

🏹 He put you off at first, with how blunt and lovely his compliments were. You, obviously, had many admires sending letters to your apartment, but, hearing how genuine his were, you got flushed

🏹 Vil smiled and lightly grabbed your hand, telling Rook to ready his ears, since recording was going to start soon

🏹 There was a small glass panel separating you and Vil from one-another, and, when you started the beautiful melody with a soft undertone while Vil was strong, his eyes sparkled

🏹 He heard you over the many apps that the students of Pomefiore would play, and he knew your voice was amazing, but, to him, it was far better in-person

🏹 Rook must speak to you about this later on! But, for now, he can enjoy himself in humming alongside you and his housewarden

Beauty and a Beat ~ Link Beautiful Mistakes ~ Link The One That Got Away (Duet Ver.) ~ Link You Are The Reason (French Ver.) ~ Link

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🍎 Oh boy, he was super confused when Vil asked him if he knew who was singing a song

🍎 Epel was just walking around, doing his, in his opinions, stupid lessons, when Rook ran into the room while playing one of your newest songs, which was a mixture of country and pop

🍎 He just stood there and answered with a solid no, and Vil face-palmed lightly, as to not damage his flawless skin, and he ordered for Rook to call you

🍎 This poor boy just wants a day off from these idiotic situations, please great seven send him to his farm for a day

🍎 You answered the call of Vil's and smiled, greeting your old friend, asking him what he needed, in which he answered with a classic 'someone wanted to talk to you'

🍎 Cocking an eyebrow lightly, you chuckled and told him to show you whoever wished to speak to your lovely self, and hearing that, Epel began to hide his face out of embarrassment

🍎 Of course, he had heard about you from his first year friends, Ace and Deuce, but he had never really dug into anything to find out who you were exactly, he grew up listening to pure country music, give him a break

🍎 You gave him a smile and a sweet-sounding hello, in which he stuttered lightly before eventually gaining confidence to ask you some questions that were 'appropriate' for the moment, at least in Vil's eyes

🍎 Epel looked through the screen and into your eyes, noticing how you were looking up every few second, and he noticed you were in a recording booth, that was when he asked if you were about to record a song

" Oh! Yes, actually I am rehearsing to sing my newest song; The Apple of my Heart. Would you like to watch and listen? You can if you want, I don't wanna pressure you! "

🍎 His eyes widened in curiosity and he answered with a yes, allowing you to nod and lay your camera down, pointing to you and your headphones snugly held onto your head and you gave a thumbs up to your live-audience and began singing

🍎 Holy hell-raising of a bad harvest, your voice was amazing! He could listen to you all day!

🍎 Before you could hang up and get back to work, you asked for his number and wrote it down as he said it, and you promised to give him a quick message, after all, he seemed really fun!

🍎 Oh, what has he gotten into now...?

Hold You ~ Link Never Say Never ~ Link Thank God ~ Link Meant to Be ~ Link

[ronsenthal]

Ron Speirs x Nurse Reader

Summary: During wartime some stories were created to scare and keep the soldiers on the line, but some other ones were slowly written to have a happy ending, just like fairy tales.

A/N: This was based on a prompt kindly sent to me by a lovely anon who wanted something with Ron x Nurse Reader and since then I was so OBSESSED with this idea so I had to try something. So dear anon if you are reding this I hope you like it, I had to change it a little bit because I'm truly awful with requests, hope you don't mind. Also this was slighthly based on the Rolling Stones song, because it so Ron coded and apparently I can't write anything not related to music? So here we go!

The first time you saw him was one week after D-Day, everybody was still scared and lost, many people went missing so naturally the first place the men went looking for their friends was the Aid Station. It was completely madness, you couldn’t take a pause to catch your breath even when your feet hurt, even when you couldn’t tell what time it was, when your stomach made loud noises, you pushed through pain, tears and tiredness. 

During one of your shifts you were attending to a private who was hit in the head by shrapnel after a potato masher exploded close to him. He was bleeding heavily since he arrived so you had to change the bandage from time to time. The Aid Station was always a noisy place with some people screaming in agony, others nurses and doctors were giving orders trying to save someone else and a few lucky ones were just chatting to pass the time. But in that afternoon it went quiet as if some spell was cast and suddenly the world was frozen, you could see heads following the footsteps of this soldier who walked in.

He slowly walked in your direction, you couldn’t see his features until he was at the other side of the stretcher of the man you were aiding. At first he didn’t say a word as he was looking at the other soldier, as if studying the damage that was done by the germans. He took a deep breath and finally asked quietly, “Is he gonna make it?” and looked at you with those big dark green eyes to which you couldn’t lie, so you honestly said “I don’t know”, he only shook his head giving you one sad look before turning into his heels and heading out.

You were awfully quiet that evening trying to eat some bread while the other girls were chatting. You tried your best but your long-suffering patient didn’t make it and yet you could only think about those sad green eyes. Some weeks went by, people would come and go but your thoughts would often drift aways to this face you couldn’t even put a name to. 

The second time you saw him was even less fortunate than the first one, this time he came in angrily shouting that he didn’t needed any help and assistance, but anyone would notice that he was limping and there was even blood on his uniform coming from his leg, his hands also were bleeding. 

Poor Jane, your friend was the closest nurse available, you only watched from a distance as she was addressing his wounds. At first he was reluctant but then finally gave in and let the woman quickly put some bandages on it, she only asked a couple of questions, filled a piece of paper and gave it to the man. Just as he went in he was suddenly gone, as he was heading out he saw you and nodded with his head before putting back his cap. 

Dinner was always gossip time and that night you made sure to sit near Jane to get some food but also try to get some information. 

“So who was that guy who came in earlier making a scene?”

“Are you kidding Y/N? That is Lieutenant Speirs, he is the one everybody keeps talking about, he killed 15 german POW or something on D-Day” Linda said, swinging her spoon 

dramatically.

“I heard it was more like 20 guys, he even offered some cigarettes before shooting them” the other nurse called Grace. 

“And do you believe those stories?” you asked them not even daring to take your eyes off your food. This couldn’t be true right? 

“I don’t know Y/N, I heard it from one of my guys the other day, he was telling his friend that they sergeant saw it” Grace told you two before changing the subject to talk about some soldier named Talbert that they both find so cute.

Lieutenant Speirs so that’s him, after that day you were always looking for his name in the morning reports at the Aid Station, you heart almost skipping a beat at the letter S but you never saw his name. You never forgot his name nor his eyes or his dark hair. 

From time to time you would see him with a cigarette on his lips from one side to the other, he was always followed by strange looks and a couple of whispers, his bad reputation was growing as time passed by, some stories were clearly too absurd to be true, others were creepier to say the least.

Third time's the charm right? Bastogne was a real nightmare, you had to move to the front line due to the heavy losses of people who had basic medical training, the supplies were short and the was was getting brutal, specially due to that fucking cold. One night you were trying to get some warm soup in the foxhole you shared with Eugene, you both couldn’t feel your fingertips as if they seemed to be frozen so you decided to try and warm your hands while eating something. 

“Y/L/N” came from a hard and harsh voice from behind, you were caught by surprise as you jumped from the scare “Y/L/N did I get your name right?”

“Yes sir!” you quickly said

“Pleased to meet you, I guess you know who I am. What are you and Roe doing here? It’s not safe enough you should stay aways from the line” he said as you both nodded quickly taking your belongings and starting to move, he kept watching you and offered his hand to pull you from the foxhole to which you said a shy “thank you”, his hands were strong and warm and you had to fight the urge to ask him how he could keep them so warm in the freezing temperature, but you didn’t said a word. 

Holding a gun in his hand he slowly and carefully escorted you through the white snow. Eugene was following you two but suddenly Joe Toye called for his help with something else. Speirs even helped you to settle in the new foxhole, putting some twigs and sticks to reinforce the cover. He then wished you goodnight before disappearing again. The man walked like a shadow between the lines, you took your time to thank the guy from above that he was at your side in this war, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you thought that he was the enemy.

Just a couple of days later the only thing the men would talk about was how the now Captain Speirs ran through the streets of Foy to link up with I Company after he released Foxhole Dike from his position and how bravely and fearlessly led Easy. The guys were so happy to have a good leader again, you were happier too because it meant now they were saffer.

The fourth time he was shot in his butt during one of your night shifts back at the Aid Station, he was soaking wet, pale and so tired that he didn’t have the energy to be stubborn. You asked what happened and Sergeant Lipton said he was hit while going across the river into the germans territory to get some information on the germans. You promptly gave him some medicine and started to take care of his wound as fast as you could. 

It was strange but you kept your cool and gave your best to stay calm and do your job as if he was just another guy. Except he wasn’t, after the bullet was removed he let out a big sigh of relief and as the medicine was starting to kick in he slowly falled asleep in a feverish state.. You couldn’t help yourself and stare at the man you’ve been thinking about for so long, you stayed by his side trying to quietly read a book but your eyes would move away from it and watch how his eyelashes peacefully rested, how soft his facial expression was and how his now slightly wet hair was falling in his forehead. 

You reached your hand to it with the excuse to feel his temperature, he was burning hot and as you were taking a wet piece of cloth to use it to cool him off a bit he opened those same green eyes you’ve been thinking about.

“Am I gonna make it?” he said with a weak voice and caught your hand in his

“Yes” you said, but this time you were 100% sure and when you realized you were smiling at him, he gave you a cute smile back before closing his eyes and falling asleep again. He was certainly a handsome man but on that night you could swear he looked like one of those princes from fairy tales your mom would tell you at bedtime. You couldn’t help but think how he could be soft and yet so stern, so scary but also so gentle and caring, you felt sympathy for the Devil after all. 

The next day he was feeling so much better and tried to get away as quickly as possible but you preferred to stay cautious and ordered him to stay a bit longer, which he couldn’t refuse and finally gave in. After some minutes of awkward silence he started to small talk asking where you are from, if you had any siblings back home and even if you had a boyfriend. You tried your best to keep talking just to keep him with you a bit longer but your peace was interrupted when a couple of soldiers came by heavily wounded and you were required to take care of them. 

When you finally came back he was gone, he only left a note apologizing for leaving without a proper goodbye but promised he would somehow make it up to you later. 

Of course he did it as soon as you set foot at Berchtersgarden, there the mood was totally different, especially after the german army officially surrendered. He took you out to enjoy some coffee at this beautiful place with an incredible view of the mountains, even through you thought that the view of the captain in front of you was even better.

You were so happy with everything that you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear and as you reached from his hand across the table, he didn't moved it and intertwined your fingers, then gave you a sincere and beautiful smile, you felt butterflies all over your stomach because you felt more than just sympathy for the Devil.

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