#here i thought it was going to be a chill morning before the chaos of the premiere

[kindahoping4forever]

📸: Jordan Knight for Alternative Press

[neferaskingdom]

♡ From Podiums to Playpens | LN4 & OP81

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Lando and Oscar’s lives take a wild turn when an unexpected baby crash-lands at their doorstep. With zero parenting skills and all the wrong instincts, they bumble through diaper disasters and frantic calls, discovering that the only thing harder than winning a Grand Prix is keeping a tiny human alive!

A/N: Inspired by the fanart @mecachrome did of Oscar and Lando holding the baby, though this is exactly the opposite of what happened in the artwork 😝. Also I can't confirm if this will have a part 2 or not so sorry to everyone in advance for that and the cringey song at the end 🫠.

LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | OSCAR PIASTRI MASTERLIST

Oscar Piastri had a problem. A big, life-altering, scream-inducing problem.

He was many things: a rising Formula 1 star, a recent Monaco resident, and a man who liked things calm and orderly. What he was not, however, was someone equipped to handle finding a baby on his doorstep.

Yet, here he was.

At 8:00 AM, standing in the doorway of his new Monaco apartment, staring at a very real, very giggly baby girl bundled in pink. She was nestled in a stroller beside what looked like a mountain of baby supplies, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just detonated Oscar’s entire sense of normalcy.

He stared blankly at the tiny human swaddled in pink, her wide, curious eyes blinking up at him as she gurgled happily in her stroller. His brain was stuck in neutral, wheels spinning but going absolutely nowhere. There was a baby on his doorstep, and not in a cute, ‘aww, how nice’ way. This was in the ‘what fresh hell is this?!’ kind of way.

Oscar re-read the note attached to the stroller for the tenth time.

Oscar blinked, reread the note, then blinked some more. “Tim? Who the hell is Tim?!”

Dear Tim,

I’m leaving the country. You can take care of Amelie now. She’s your daughter too. Good luck.

—Evelyn

This was not Oscar’s baby. Oscar had no babies. Babies did not spontaneously appear in Formula 1 drivers’ lives, certainly not on doorsteps. But there she was, this tiny little bundle of chaos just... chilling. Like she was meant to be there, like this was her grand entrance into his thoroughly unprepared life.

Panic hit Oscar like a sledgehammer. He paced in frantic circles, one hand on his phone and the other on his head, like physically holding onto his hair would stop his brain from leaking out of his ears.

He needed backup. No, he needed a miracle.

Oscar frantically dialed the only person dumb enough to know what to do in a situation like this: Lando Norris.

The phone barely rang twice before Lando picked up, sounding as annoyingly chipper as ever. “Hey, Osc! What’s up?”

“There’s a baby on my doorstep.”

There was silence on the other end.

“...What?”

“A baby. There is a living, breathing baby. On. My. Doorstep.”

Lando laughed, but not the good kind of laugh, the kind that suggested he thought Oscar was messing with him. “Mate, what? You sure it’s not a prank? Did someone send you one of those doll things? Is it like, a fan thing?”

“I’m not joking, Lando! There’s a real baby with a note that says I’m supposed to take care of her. Only, I’m not Tim. I don’t even know who Tim is! She’s right here, staring at me. What do I do?!”

Lando, clearly suppressing laughter, said, “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m on my way. Hold the fort, mate.”

“Hurry!” He said, squatting down, staring at the baby like she was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode into tears, vomit, or... whatever babies did. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m not built for this.”

Twenty minutes (that felt like twenty years) later, Lando burst through the door with all the grace of a caffeinated squirrel, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Where’s this mystery baby? Let me see the little rascal!” Lando scanned the apartment and spotted the baby, his face lighting up like it was Christmas morning. “Oh my God, look at her! She’s so tiny!”

Lando immediately dropped to his knees and scooped up Amelie without hesitation, hoisting her into the air like she was Simba from The Lion King. “Aw, hi, Milly!”

“Milly?” Oscar repeated, a horrified expression plastered on his face. “You already named her?”

“Amelie’s too formal for a baby, don’t you think?” Lando said, casually ignoring Oscar’s panicked state. He bounced Milly in his arms, pulling silly faces at her. “See? She loves me.”

Oscar stared at him in disbelief. “Lando, focus! We need a plan! We’re not renaming the baby; we’re getting her out of here!”

Milly just let out a joyful giggle, tiny fists batting at Lando’s face. Oscar’s eyes widened in horror as Lando juggled the baby like a sack of flour, his nerves stretched thinner by the second. “Lando, stop! You’re gonna drop her! Babies are fragile!”

“Nah, she’s tough. Look at her! Strong grip. Good potential for karting,” Lando said, wiggling his fingers in front of Milly’s face. “Who’s a future world champion, huh? You are!”

Oscar grabbed the back of the couch like it was his last lifeline to sanity. “This is insane. We’re not keeping her. We need to call someone. Her real dad. Where the hell is Tim?!”

“Oh, relax,” Lando waved a hand dismissively, “it’s just babysitting for a few hours. How hard can it be? The mom even dropped off all the supplies we might need!”

Turns out, it was really fucking hard

By midday, the chaos had reached DEFCON 1. Lando had somehow managed to knock over a stack of baby formula cans in the kitchen while Oscar was trying to decipher the instructions on how to make a bottle.

“This says... 50ml of water for every scoop of formula,” Oscar muttered, staring at the weird spoon-thing. “But how big is the scoop? What the hell is a scoop measurement?”

Lando, who was now wearing Milly in a baby carrier that he had insisted on trying out, leaned over the counter and squinted at the instructions. “It’s like... a baby science experiment. Just add more water, it’ll balance out.”

“That’s not how science works, Lando!”

“Sure it is!” Lando grinned, opening the microwave to heat the bottle, but then proceeded to accidentally set it for five minutes instead of thirty seconds. How someone even manages to do that Oscar will never know.

Inevitably the bottle exploded.

Milk sprayed everywhere, coating the inside of the microwave in an unholy mess. Oscar screamed. “What did you do?!”

“I thought that’s how long babies need it!” Lando yelped, staring in horror at the milk-splosion.

Milly, blissfully unaware of the carnage, was happily chewing on one of Lando’s shirt buttons.

Oscar stared at the ceiling, praying for strength. “We are going to kill this baby. We’re going to accidentally kill her.”

Lando, ever the optimist, patted Oscar on the back. “Nah, babies are resilient. They’ve got, like, soft heads, right? So they can handle stuff.”

“That’s the opposite of what soft heads mean, Lando!”

Lando grabbed a spoon and casually scooped up some of the spilled milk, giving it a taste. “Hmm. Tastes weird.”

“STOP EATING THE BABY’S MILK, LANDO!”

After the bottle fiasco, they decided to tackle diaper duty. Or rather, Oscar decided, while Lando found new and creative ways to not help. At one point, Lando was making airplane noises with Milly’s pacifier while Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, furiously Googling “how to change a diaper without gagging.”

“This can’t be that hard,” Lando said confidently, grabbing a diaper and attempting to strap it onto Milly’s squirming body. He failed. Multiple times.

“You’re putting it on backwards,” Oscar muttered, half in disbelief.

“Am I? Wait, which side is the front?”

Oscar was too stressed to even respond, choosing instead to help flip the diaper the right way around. But Milly had other ideas. She kicked her tiny legs, laughing as both boys fumbled with the diaper tabs.

After several failed attempts and at least two accidental kicks to Oscar’s face, they stood back and admired their work. The diaper was barely holding together, half askew and duct-taped in place because Lando thought duct tape “solved all problems.”

Oscar looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. “We duct-taped a baby.”

“She seems cool with it!” Lando pointed at Milly, who was now rolling around happily in her makeshift duct tape diaper. “Duct tape solves everything!”

Oscar grabbed his phone. “This is not sustainable. I need to call someone. We can’t keep doing this. I need to find Tim.”

Several hours later, after a very frustrating call with his real estate agent, Oscar finally got a number for Tim—the previous tenant, who, as it turns out, had moved to America. 

Oscar punched in the number, already bracing himself for the nightmare conversation ahead. Lando sat cross-legged on the floor, Milly in his lap, reading her a book that was upside down?

Tim picked up after a few rings, his voice groggy and irritated. “Hello?”

Oscar wasted no time. “Timothy?! It’s Oscar. I live in your old apartment in Monaco. Listen, there’s a baby here. Your baby. Evelyn dropped her off with a note and now she’s... well, she’s here, with us. What do we do?!”

There was a brief silence, followed by a sound like a man whose soul had just left his body. “Oh, fuck,” Tim groaned. “Evelyn left her? Again?”

“Again?!” Oscar sputtered. “This is a thing that she does? she just goes around... leaving the baby lying around like a sack of potatoes?”

Tim let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, man, I’m in New York, okay? I got stuck with this job, corporate America’s been eating me alive. I’m lucky if I can get ten minutes of daylight. I haven’t even unpacked yet and now you’re telling me Evelyn just dropped Amelie off without a heads-up?”

Oscar’s jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack. “She didn’t just drop her off—she basically abandoned her and ran! What am I supposed to do with her? I’m a Formula 1 driver, not... not a babysitter!”

Lando, overhearing this, piped up helpfully, “We duct-taped her diaper! Worked like a charm.”

Tim screeched on the other end. “You what?”

“Look, it was either that or she’d be laying around butt naked,” Oscar said, rubbing his temples as he paced. “Focus! I need you to come back and get her, like, now. Please.”

“Man, I wish I could!” Tim sounded frantic now, as if the weight of the universe had just been dumped on him. “But I’m up to my neck in work! I’ve got back-to-back meetings, deadlines, projects—I can’t just hop on a plane!”

“Are you kidding me right now? You can’t just leave your baby with two random blokes! What kind of corporate job is this? Are they holding you hostage?”

Tim let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, might as well be! Thanks, late-stage capitalism. I’m chained to a desk, and Evelyn’s probably off somewhere sipping cocktails while you two... duct-tape diapers together?!” He sounded like he was spiraling. “Why is my life like this?”

Oscar was losing his grip on sanity. “What are we supposed to do, Tim? We’re trying here, but we can’t even heat up a bottle without blowing up the microwave! She’s going to be in worse shape than we are if this keeps up!”

Tim let out an exasperated groan. “You think I’m not freaking out here? I don’t want to leave her with you two! But I can’t do anything about it! I’ll have to talk to my boss, and that’ll take days—corporate policies, you know how it is.”

Oscar slumped against the wall. “Tim, I swear to God, if you don’t get on a plane soon, Lando will start raising her to be the next world champion, she’ll probably know more about tire degradation than I do by the time you’re back!”

Tim started to ramble, sounding more unhinged by the second. “Oh, I’m gonna kill Evelyn. I swear, if I ever make it out of this job alive, I’m flying back just to wring her neck. She’s gonna pay for this, and I’m gonna—”

Oscar interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tim, focus! Just tell us what to do. You’re the dad, for God’s sake!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Tim practically shrieked, his voice going full meltdown mode. “Change her, feed her, keep her alive! That’s all I’ve got. Just... just don’t screw it up!”

“Don’t screw it up?!” Oscar was losing his mind. “That’s your parenting advice?”

Tim sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to get there as soon as I can. Maybe two weeks, tops. In the meantime, you’re it. You’re her only hope.”

Oscar stared at the phone, incredulous. “Two weeks?!”

“Yeah, yeah, two weeks. You’ve got this, man,” Tim said hurriedly, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. “You’re a driver. You’re adaptable. Just, uh, adapt to... fatherhood.”

Oscar hung up, staring blankly at Lando, who was now trying to teach Milly how to fist bump.

“So... what did he say?” Lando asked, not looking up from Milly’s tiny fist.

Oscar felt like his life was spiraling out of control. “He’s not coming back for two weeks.”

Lando, completely unbothered, grinned. “So… we’re keeping her?”

Oscar buried his face in his hands. “We are not keeping her. This is temporary. I am not a dad, and I’m not about to become one!”

Lando shrugged, giving Milly a finger to grab. “Relax, Osc. It’s just babysitting. We’ve got this.”

Oscar collapsed onto the couch, defeated. “We’re screwed.”

Lando grinned, still blissfully optimistic. “Nah, we got this. How hard can it be?”

Famous last words.

By the time evening rolled around, Oscar was teetering on the edge of a complete nervous breakdown. His hair stuck out in every direction, dark circles framed his eyes, and he was sporting the look of a man who had seen too much in one day. Meanwhile, across the room, Lando was in his own little world, completely oblivious to the chaos he had helped create.

“Please fall asleep,” Oscar muttered, his head in his hands as he slumped into the couch. He shot a pleading glance at Milly, who was, of course, still wide awake, her big eyes blinking up at him like she was in on the joke. “Please, I am begging you.”

Milly giggled in response, showing no signs of slowing down. If anything, she seemed to be gaining more energy as the night went on. And Lando, ever the optimist, had decided the solution to everything was a lullaby.

A lullaby that had nothing to do with actual lullabies and everything to do with... Formula 1.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, grinning like this was the best night of his life. He cradled Milly in his arms, swaying back and forth like some deranged nanny. “You wanna hear a song, Milly? ‘Course you do.”

Oscar groaned into his hands. “Lando, for the love of God, just—”

Too late. Lando had already kicked into full performance mode, belting out a song so chaotic and nonsensical it would’ve made any sane adult bash their head into the wall

He bounced Milly with every line, and to Oscar’s absolute horror, she loved it. She giggled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, her little fists grabbing onto Lando’s shirt as if demanding more.

“♪ Ohhh, race cars and pit stops,

Tires go screech, engines go vroom!

Zoom around the track, don’t look back,

Lap time’s dropping, we’re gonna attack! ♪”

Oscar rubbed his temples harder, as if somehow massaging his skull would stop the growing headache. “Why are you like this?”

But Lando was in the zone, not stopping for anything. He twirled in a circle with Milly, who was now laughing uncontrollably and continued the absolute madness.

Oscar looked on, his mind unraveling. This wasn’t a lullaby. This was... some kind of fever dream. Lando, still dancing around the living room like he was in a one-man musical, clearly had no idea how to get babies to sleep.

“♪ Pit lane’s calling, gotta switch the tires!

Box, box, baby, we’re dodging all the fires!

Fuel up quick, no time to chill,

We’re racing to bedtime, going in for the kill! ♪”

“Lando,” Oscar said through gritted teeth, “she’s supposed to be winding down, not revving up!”

Lando shot him a cheeky grin. “It’s working, mate. Look at her. She’s loving it!”

Milly squealed in delight, grabbing onto Lando’s face and pulling at his cheeks, while Lando just kept on singing like it was the most normal thing in the world.

We’re gonna celebrate with a chicken dinner! ♪”

“♪ Final lap, we’re almost there,

Through the checkered flag, feel the air!

Who needs sleep when you’re almost a winner?

Oscar could only groan in despair as Lando finished with an overly dramatic spin, still holding Milly like she was some kind of victory trophy. She clapped her tiny hands together, thoroughly entertained, while Oscar’s sanity crumbled just a little more.

Lando grinned as he plopped down on the couch next to Oscar, baby Milly perched on his knee like a royal princess. “See? We’ve got this.”

Oscar’s eye twitched. “Lando. Why do you keep saying that?”

Lando shrugged, completely at ease. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Oscar stared at him, wide-eyed, as if trying to mentally telepathize all of the worst possible things that could happen, starting with the fact that they were two twenty-something Formula 1 drivers responsible for a baby for the next two weeks.

Milly, still very much not asleep, gurgled happily and slapped Lando’s cheek, clearly delighted by the chaos she had caused.

Oscar leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling in defeat. “I’m not going to get a single second of sleep these two weeks, am I?”

Lando beamed at him, completely unfazed. “Nope. Welcome to fatherhood, mate.”

Oscar groaned and pulled a cushion over his face, muffling his scream as Milly giggled uncontrollably at his suffering.

This was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.

[fictionalsweethearts]

CONVENIENTLY CLOSE | VI X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Seven years have not passed in vain, and the woman in front of you seems to be Vi's sign, but hardened by prison, stronger, taller, eager to live the lost years. And to see you again. Faced with old habits and the need for a place to lay low, Vi takes refuge in your apartment and stays conveniently close, maybe too close.

Contains: arcane!vi, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of arguments and dialogues, nsfw, explicit stuff, arcane universe, childhood friends, romance why not?, SESBIAN LEX

Word count: 6,780

Note: This fic was born from this bot which gave me juicy material to use here, part of the story arises from it, all credits to the creator!

Also, english is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

It happened in the blink of an eye, the fleeting eye contact, a chill running down your spine as you stopped to look again at who you thought was dead or gone. You paled like a ghost, barely taking a step before her arms were around you, and you let out a gasp.

You barely recognized the woman whose face buried in your neck; the toned arms, the network of tattoos on her arms, the gear on the side of her neck, the pronounced hairstyle and the piercings moved this Vi away from the one you once knew, seven years did not pass in vain and both had changed a lot, but the memories still endured. You wrapped her with doubtful arms, insecure but at the same time overwhelmed by the situation.

Your mind was flooded with memories the moment you dared to inhale the essence of her neck, that sweet aroma hidden behind the sweat and leather of her jacket, the same smell that crept into your nostrils on those afternoons on the couch, practicing boxing together, hiding in the alleys to avoid the poor victims of your pranks full of enthusiasm and malice. Of that last hug that morning, before the paths separated, life changed, Vander died and Zaun sank into chaos commanded by organized crime. Everything had changed but that hug brought you back to sweet adolescence for a few seconds, before you pulled away.

"For God's sake, you're... muscular." you murmured then, looking at the taller woman with attentive eyes.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Vi's hands start to roam, finding their way over your shoulders. A smile appeared on her lips, the same thought kept repeating in her mind 'it's her, it's her'.

"It's an statement."

You could barely form a question in the face of such a situation, your childhood friend returning from a seven-year disappearance to stand before you in all her glory, alive, healthy, certainly different but still her nonetheless. At your sudden silence, Vi giggled, patting your shoulder gently. "Long story. don't wanna talk about it just yet."

You nodded, studying the Vi who was once four inches shorter and scar-free, realizing that wherever she was, circumstances had hardened her. “You were in prison,” you said then, not as a question.

“Surprise, surprise,” Vi muttered sarcastically. “I wasn’t dead. And i'll spare you the gritty details, cause I didn't exactly break out. I served my sentence, somehow."

She'd always had a habit of being vague, even during your childhood years. She never answered your questions directly, and she never explained herself when she got into trouble. It frustrated you back then, and it's no different now. "Enough about me. you're gonna have to fill me in. it's been like, what? Seven years?"

"Wait, I-" you had to shake your head and take a breath, cause suddenly having Vi before you wasn't among your plans. You were still at the alley. "Can we... go somewhere else? Grab a drink, talk this out?"

For a moment, she looks like she might refuse. For a moment, you wonder if she'll duck away, the way she always did. But then Vi sighs softly and nods.

"Lead the way, then." she takes a step back, folding her arms behind her neck. "I'm not payin', though.”

Gathering your thoughts and whispering a 'what a night' under your breath, you begin to lead Vi through the backstreets of a Zaun she no longer knows, but you do. Jericho served a wonderful octopus stew, and Vi was able to verify it once again after so many years. You sipped your cocktail, watching the hungry girl in front of you devour the plate, the Zaun market maintained its usual flow of customers and workers, a swarm of smells and sizzling of embers, murmurs, knives and pans to the fire filled the place.

"Now. You better start explaining how did you break out jail." you said.

The question doesn't come as a surprise - Vi had been expecting it. She sighs, and her eyes flutter up to yours, trying to find the words, trying to find the right way to say it. "I didn't break out. I served my sentence." she can see your skepticism, your disbelief, and she adds: "I got parole. Good behavior. That kinda bullshit."

"Good behavior. You?" you scoff.

"Yeah yeah, I was a saint, believe it or not. Guess I had a change of heart, people grow and all that."

"And now you're out and hungry." you comment, watching Vi finish the bowl and let out a hint of a burp.

"You gotta admit, the food behind bars is not so good." Vi grins at you again, her eyes flickering to your drink. "And the drinks either, care to share?"

Vi takes the glass, wrapping the fingers of her free hand around the base. She stares at the liquid for a moment, then her gaze drifts to meet yours, she's thinking, a lot. "Seven years... seven years is a lot of goddamn time. Almost don't recognize ya. What've you been doing all this time?"

"Let's see…" you say, your eyes scanning the market as you gather up seven years of your existence and rank them in order of importance. "I have a job, I'm… an interpreter."

"A what?" she asks, raising a brow.

"I translate, dumbass."

"Oh, right right." Vi giggled. "You work for the pilties, do you?"

"Actually, yes. I get many academic texts to translate."

"Ah, a sneaky rat. No wonder you'd take any job," she snickers. "I'd almost feel betrayed if you said you never went back to your old life of stealing and pickpocketing."

"I realized I couldn't lean on crime forever." you shrug. "Languages fits me better."

Catching up had never felt so necessary. Vi had undergone a true metamorphosis in prison, a wild flower torn from its roots and still able to cling to life with minimal water, in hostile, dry, cold soil. Now she was outside, eager to feel the putrid Zaun air against her skin, no matter how foul-smelling it was, to continue a life that hadn’t even begun yet. Yet it was the means that worried you.

"What's your plan?" you asked after a short moment of silence. "Now that you're out."

"Well, I gotta lay low for a while. They ain't gonna be lookin' for me out in the streets, but that don't mean I should be causin' trouble." her lips pull into a small smirk, as her eyes flicker to you. "Maybe I'll start robbin' the rich and givin' the profits to those in need. Or something like that."

"You'll get yourself in prison all over again." you said, rolling your eyes.

"What, you think I need you to lecture me, mother?" Vi's mocking tone couldn't help but annoy you. Again with that blind confidence and smug smile, hasn't changed one bit.

"Where are you staying?" you asked, sipping your drink which suddenly tasted bitter.

"Don't have a place. Can't exactly go back to my old apartment, for obvious reasons." her expression shifts into a smirk, a gleam of an idea passing her eyes. "Why? You offering a place to crash?"

"Huh, figured out so. You don't have a goddamn place to crash and still you intend to start robbing again?"

"It's not robbing, it's just taking something that some rich snob doesn't even need. Besides, I'll manage, alright?"

The conversation wasn’t going in the direction you expected, a sour feeling settling in your stomach as you recognized an old pattern that the years had accentuated in Vi; her stubbornness. It was one thing to be happy for an old friend who had gotten out of prison, but it was quite another to still believe that crime was a way of life and support that. And you were sick of that shit.

"I gotta go." you said, laying a bill on the table. "I have a paper to submit due tomorrow."

Vi's expression changed to as if she had been slapped. “Hey, I thought we were catching up. Where the hell are you going in such a hurry?”

"I'm happy for you, Vi, but I'm not who I used to be anymore. And neither should you be." you say, your tone so sober that Vi thought you were pulling her leg until she saw you get up from your seat and start walking away. Vi scowls and grabs the bill you left on the table, crumpling it up in her hand.

"Damnit."

Zaun had changed. It was no longer the fragile balance between misery and hope, but an overwhelming network of crime, wrapped in the growing business of Shimmer and prostitution and the certain tacit anarchy that ruled its existence. Vi needed a few days to get used to it, to recognize the city that saw her grow up and find a way to make her way through that melodious chaos. Crime had evolved, the presence of enforcers was increasingly scarce, which gave way to more aggressive, more experienced, more ingenious criminals when it came to benefiting from the few assets of the rest. In Zaun there were no rich people, only the owners of manufacturing factories, who pulled the strings and commanded drug trafficking, who could not be counted on more than one hand's fingers. However, Vi was not going to allow herself to feel strange in the city she called home, not before playing her cards and making her way into the market she knew best apart from crime: fights. With raw confidence and the certainty that seven years of training behind closed doors had given her the skills to hold her own in the ring, Vi went to the Pit and signed up for one of the night's matches. The result? A downcast and barely alive opponent, Vi claimed a spot she didn't intend to give up, and a bag full of coins. She felt right at home.

It took her three days to make a small fortune, yet her name was frequently whispered and attracted unwanted attention, putting her in a position where she had to remain low for a few days. She could keep that up long enough to make a living after seven years in confinement, but to do so she needed the hospitality and goodwill of someone in particular; you. You assumed Vi wouldn't incur in invading your precious privacy, but that wasn't the case. Not when, working on one of your latest translations, in the quiet of your apartment just a couple of blocks from the red-light district, you felt the fleeting passing of a shadow in front of the window and your alarms went off.

She had to admit, you'd picked yourself a nice little spot to settle down in. Vi could have sworn you would have moved to Piltover, after hearing about your choice of profession, but here you were, all cozy in a fancy apartment in Zaun. She couldn't be sure it was exactly safe, but you probably had ways to deal with that. A couple hours of lurking around in the shadows, and she found herself outside of your apartment window, looking in. Vi takes a moment to study the view through the window, observing your movements inside. She should probably announce her presence, but she can't help the little thrill that comes from the thought of spooking you. 

Believing herself undetected, Vi stepped into the house while investigating what she thought was your office. A room cradled with an aesthetic chaos of shelves, books and plants, a kitten sleeping by the window, very self-absorbed in his feline dreams to recognize a strange smell in his safe space. But you certainly had better instincts than Pepper.

"Stop there or I'll blow your fucking head." you stated, holding a gun against Vi's head, not even recognizing her in the darkness of the room.

Vi's eyes widen as you suddenly speak, the cold metal of the gun pressing against her skin. She raises both hands in a small surrendering gesture.

"Woah, woah! Easy, doll, it's just me."

You remove the gun from her temple, realizing that it was Vi and not another petty thief. "For god's sake." you grumbled, putting the pistol down and turning the lights on. You were in your pajamas, messy hair and still glasses on from working for hours. "What the hell are you doing by breaking into my place?"

She responds to your question with a dismissive shrug. "I need a place to crash, darling."

"Oh, fuck off." you spat, quickly walking towards the desk to put the gun into the drawer again. Pepper woke up with a hiss, just then realizing a intruder was inside. He bristled. "Why would I? You got yourself in trouble, don't you?"

"Technically not trouble. At least, not yet." she glances down at the hissing ball of fur on the floor, and scowls. "You got a damn cat. Of course you do."

She averts your gaze, shifting awkwardly. "I need a place to crash. at least for the night. My place from... before ain't exactly available to me right now."

You can't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, holding your hands akimbo. "I can't afford to have tenants, you know? Especially not the troublesome ones."

"I ain't a tenant, I'm just asking for a sofa to sleep on for one night. It's not a big deal." insists Vi, her tone softening, just like her eyes. Gosh, no, not that look.

When it comes to Vi, you resistance diminished. It was the years of friendship perhaps, or the fact that this ex-convict with deep eyes and attractive bearing softened something inside you, but to tell her 'no' has been always difficult. Even now.

"Just for tonight?" you asked, as Pepper descended from his pedestal to sniff the boots of this new guest. He didn't liked what he smelled.

"Yeah, just for tonight." she hesitates for a moment, before a small smirk spreads across her face. "Unless you have a queen-size bed that I could fit in instead."

"You'd wish." you grunted.

While you were looking for a blanket for this unplanned guest, Vi studied the room she was in. Apart from the academic chaos that surrounded the desk, the rest of the room was tidy and harmonious. In front of the plum-colored sofa, there was a coffee table, on it a couple of books and a candle, along with what Vi soon recognized as a stash. The candle catches her attention for a moment, and her gaze flicks to the small pipe sitting on the coffee table. Interesting. definitely not the doll I remember.

Behind her, a large shelf stood, next to a series of windows that allowed the moon to sneak in, in addition to Pepper's pedestal, fluffy and scratched. The room was composed of green, purple and orange tones, the string of lights hanging from the ceiling gave it a cozy and calm air.

"Here." you said, handing Vi the blanket.

"Thanks." she mumbles.

"Stay away from my stuff, you hear me? And the booze as well, you drunkie."

A small scoff escaped her lips once you closed the door, and she shifts under the blanket, getting comfortable. She takes a moment, before her gaze drifts over towards Pepper.

"Watcha glaring at, ya little shit." She mutters, the corner of her mouth curving up again.

Vi didn't want to abuse your trust, but she couldn't help but inspect the privacy of your office the next morning. Her desk was really a source of curiosity for her, with that amount of trinkets, sheets, books and notes. The carnivorous plant next to them seemed to be watching her, as if she wanted to bite her finger off if Vi dared to sniff through the drawers. But she was an ex-convict and that was a fucking plant.

Inside the drawers were spread documents and bills, you earned quite well for translation, and many orders came from the science district in Piltover, or failing that, from the shimmer factories in Zaun. You made no distinctions, you just worked. This could not help but annoy Vi a little, working for drug producers was certainly not ethical, but a woman like her had no right to talk about ethics either.

Pepper's hiss took her out of her thoughts, the gray cat looked at her with the disdain and suspicion of a human. As if he knew of her past mistakes, of the fact that she turned to crime from a young age, that she was unable to protect Powder when she needed it most, that as soon as she got out of prison her life seemed to point to repeating the same pattern of crime she had grown up with. But Vi had to be wiser this time, play her cards right, break a cycle she was too accustomed to. She let out a sigh, grabbing her jacket before she left the apartment through the window.

Vi was a silent visitor during the nights, she preferred not to bother you since she knew that her ability to stay on the couch depended on the owner's mood, but you also didn't admit that you were starting to get used to and even wish for the presence of the pink-haired woman at home. First there were brief conversations under the cover of night, then a shared cigarette and an improvised dinner, then it was talking about aspirations and fears. Suddenly Vi felt as close as when you were both fifteen. But mischief no longer appeared as the main act of your interactions, but something else that certainly felt different, an unknown spark that was missing before and that made Vi so pleasant to look at.

Days went by, she came brusied and exhausted from her fights to just crash on the sofa and sleep her pain away. It's been two months with such dynamic and you accepted it.

Vi shifted on the couch, an unusual weight on her stomach saying good morning to her and soon, with sunlight filtering through the curtains, Pepper let out a feline complaint. The cat rested on Vi, naturally comfortable after so many visits from her. Sitting up, Vi studied the room and was surprised to see a lump lying on the desk in front of the couch, you had been up late working again.

“She’s going to work herself to death at this point.” Vi muttered, carefully pushing Pepper off her lap and heading to the desk. Vi knew about the constant commissions that rained down in a never-ending stream of work, but she’d also seen you falling asleep during the day, forgetting to eat, and the dark furrow under your eyes worsening. The woman sighed, gently pushing you off the surface to lift you up with ease, carrying you to your room. You mumbled something along the way, ineligible but akin to a complaint that did nothing but amuse Vi.

As your back hit the soft surface of the bed, your hands sought out Vi’s, pulling her along with you. The woman was initially taken aback by this sudden display of affection, you weren’t one to hug or seek contact, but you looked sick and tired and she couldn’t say no to a person in that condition. She snuggled up to you, running a calloused but gentle hand up your arm, burying her fingers in the strands of your hair. "You really ain't taking care of yourself, cupcake." mumbles Vi, cupping your cheek as her thumb gently stroked your nose.

And at the sight of you, your haggard face against the mattress, the sun streaming through the window and outlining your huddled figure, Vi found a new purpose, someone to protect. And as soon as you fell asleep, she got up, put on her jacket and headed to the only place she knew for sure would allow her to make some quick money.

“Black?” you asked, only a month later, holding the small bottle of black dye as Vi wet her hair in the sink. If Vi understood anything about street fighting, it was that a character was the best way to get the public’s attention, the attention turning into bets and the bets into money. For several weeks now, Violet had been arriving at the apartment late at night, bruised, exhausted and with a small bag of coins in her pocket. “For you, doll” the woman would murmur, barely taking the time to kick off her boots before landing on the couch and falling asleep. At first you thought it was just another risky business Vi was getting into, but after a couple of weeks you realized that the name “Vi” was whispered among the alleys and the market, and that she carried the title of undefeated for more than five matches in a row. She was a champion, no doubt about it, and the beneifts from her profession meant more support for household expenses. Suddenly Vi had become your partner, and all she asked in return was a good talk and for you to heal her wounds. And certainly you would do so.

A smirk crept over her lips at the sight of the bottle resting in your hands. "Yeah, black. I'm sick of standin' out. The pink's too bright." her eyes flick to you again, a mischievous look in them. "You're gonna help me out, right? I don't wanna make a mess of myself while trying to do it alone."

You looked at the little bottle of dye and then at Vi, knowing that once she gets an idea inside her head, nothing can erase it unless she tries it. You sighed. "Sit down," you said at last, reaching for the plastic gloves and the cup in the cabinet.

It took you a good hour, but together, you both managed to dye her long pink hair a dark, natural black. Vi's face had hardened, her scars and freckles seeming to stand out against her dark hair. It was then that, in the face of a silence that spoke volumes, Vi was the one to dare to say the first word. "Gotta say, doll. You did a good job."

"You look like you fell into a pool of oil." you said, clearly disapproving of the new look. Even Pepper, who stepped into the bathroom, hissed at Vi.

"Ah, so even the goddamn cat's against me now, eh?" she asked, making you let out a chuckle. The dye wasn't the only thing that changed Vi's appearance, she left the striped pants and red jacket at home, getting herself tight jeans, ripped at the knees, leather boots, a jacket of the same material, provided with gold studs and the print of a two-headed wolf on the back and covering her bust, bandages wrapped tightly. She looked almost unrecognizable, intimidating. Watching her grab her bag and head for the door that night, you couldn't help but feel anxious and think of the worst case scenarios.

You let out a sharp sigh and spoke up. "Vi, wait. You don't have to keep doing this, y'know? Fighting. I'm sure we can find another way."

Vi frowns at your words, her grip on the doorknob tightening.

"Nah, don't start with that." Her eyes narrow slightly, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. "I've always fought, y'know? it's what I'm good at. I don't know anything else."

"I don't want you to get hurt." you insisted, stepping closer.

"I know how to take care of myself, dollface. I'm not some weak little kid anymore." her voice is a little gruff as she tries to deflect the concern.

"You've never been weak..." you mutter, your expression softening as Vi hovered closer. "But you're not invincible neither."

"Yeah, well, who is invincible?" she takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. her eyes dart across your face, searching for something. "You worry about me too much, cupcake."

"You'd like me to not give a shit about you?" you inquire, looking into Vi's eyes.

she scoffed. "Yeah, i'd like to see you try." her eyes flicker across your face again as her thumb briefly brushes over your chin. A moment of silence passes between you, the room feeling almost charged as the two of you stare at each other intently.

Her proximity was electrifying, the smell of hair dye and grease filling your nostrils, her firm yet gentle hand on your chin preventing you from looking away, your field of vision dominated by her, by her light blue eyes, her scar on her upper lip and eyebrow, her straight eyebrows, her messy makeup, her dark lips. "I couldn't stop worrying, Vi. Even if I tried to." you whisper at last.

"Yeah, probably." she mutters, her voice a hoarse whisper. You let out a gasp as Vi leaned in to kiss you, a simple, almost shy kiss, but capable of wreaking such havoc on your insides that your heart began to pound.

She captures your mouth in a gentle kiss, her lips moving against yours slowly, almost tentatively, as if she was testing the waters. When you gasp in response, she deepens the kiss, her hand on your face moving to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Her other hand moves to rest on your hip, pulling you a little closer as you feel your skin burning with an unexpected thrill. But you find yourself pulling back, a hand against Vi's chest.

"No." you whisper, exasparated, overwhelmed, as Vi's breath brushes your lips.

"No?" she repeats, her voice cracking slightly. Her hand remains tangled in your hair, the other still lingering on your hip, its grip having tightened. "You don't want me to keep going?"

"We shouldn't..." you weakly whisper. It wasn't just the kiss, it was about kissing a woman, and that woman being your lifelong friend. How much were you risking by crossing that line and delving into the taste of her lips and the firmness of her hands? God, you could barely explain it to yourself.

She pauses at your words, her grip on your hip loosening as she processes the conflicted look in your eyes. Her gaze drifts across your face, taking in every detail, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"Y'know..." a brief silence stretches between you, the only sound being the faint hum of the city outside the window. "We can stop... if you want."

Her hand slowly falls from your hip, and she takes a measured breath as she steps back, putting a short distance between the two of you.

You feel her slip away from you, backing away as a look of disappointment settles on her face and the glow of desire fades. You swallow. "I've never kissed a girl." you suddenly confess.

She runs a hand through her dark hair, visibly processing this new information. There's a moment of tense silence before she speaks again, letting out a huff. "I figured out so."

Your eyes widened, watching Vi taking a step back towards the door. "I should get going, there's a match I have to win." she says, leaving the apartment, leaving you confused, almost upset.

During Vi's absence, you couldn't find anything to distract you. As soon as you sat down for a moment to rest after feeding Pepper, tidying the living room, doing the laundry, heating up dinner or taking a shower, the touch of her lips flooded your senses and produced an almost unknown tingle in your belly. The smell of her skin, the gentleness with which her hand settled on your hip and pulled you against her. You couldn't stop replaying the scene, with some uncertainty if you were allowed to think that way about a childhood friend, or a woman. You only found some peace once you fell asleep that night, in the wee hours of the morning you felt an extra weight on the bed with you, an arm around your waist and an "I'm home, cupcake."

The next morning, you found the space next to you empty. You assumed Vi had fallen asleep on the couch, but her boots beside the bed and her jacket on your dresser said otherwise. You got up, hearing Pepper meowing in hunger from the kitchen. You barely noticed the overflowing bag of money on the coffee table or the sound of the shower running, only sleepwalking into the kitchen to feed the hungry cat. With the animal crouched before its bowl, you poured yourself a glass of water and only then turned back to the coffee table. “I told you I had a fight to win,” Vi said from behind you, watching you count the coins and bills in shock. The woman stood by the door, her hair still damp and a not-so-disguisable cut across the bridge of her nose, eyebrow, and cheek. “This is a bunch of money.” you muttered, studying the woman before you.

"Bets paid good last night." she nonchalantly replied, coming closer as she ignored the money. You were the center of her attention then, you and your robe. "I want you to take a break, alright? From your job."

"A break?" you asked, Vi's sincere smile speaking volumes.

"Yeah, for a while." she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, her touch surprisingly gentle. "You work too much."

Your expression softened, noticing the sweet gentleness which Vi treated you, how tender her eyes were at that moment. You couldn't help but lean against her touch. "About last night..."

Her hand cups your chin, her thumb gently grazing over your bottom lip. "You don't regret it, do you?" her voice is hoarse and low. Beneath her confident façade, there’s a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, a subtle fear that you’ll reject her.

"No." despite the inner turmoil, you couldn't regret it, not when you wanted more.

Relief flickers across her face, and that cocky smirk returns to her lips. "Good." her hand cups the side of your face, fingers lightly brushing across your skin, and she leans in to whisper against your lips. "Cause I’m gonna kiss you again."

This time it wasn't a fearful kiss, but deep and ambitious from the first moment, Vi pulling you against her and wrapping her lips around yours with a soft moan that only served to ignite a timid flame of desire that now sought to become a fire. You closed your eyes and dared to hold her cheek, testing a terrain unknown to you but dominated by her. She wanted to be gentle with you, to ease you into this new terrain, but her desire for you overpowered her self-restraint and the kiss quickly turned hungry and greedy.

"Please, just..." she whispered against your lips, a hand sneaking underneath your robe to grasp your waist. "Let's sit down."

Vi landed on the couch, pulling you closer until you were straddling her, taking possession of the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. You moaned against her lips, savoring every sensation as if it were a dish you’d never tried before but surprisingly tasted delightful and addictive. Vi smelled like shampoo, her lips were soft and her hands were calloused but gentle. One of them ran down your spine over your robe, and you stepped back to quickly remove it.

She kissed your neck, running gentle palms up the expanse of your neck and chest, shyly cupping one of your breasts before you pulled away to look at her. She understood the approval in your eyes, bringing her hands behind your thighs to hoist your hips so your chest faced her. You let out a sigh at the wetness of her mouth enveloping your nipple, a gentle, tentative suck that made you clench in a new way. “Fuck…” you moaned, at the same time as their hands massaged your buttocks and dared to slap them.

"I was waiting for you to start swearing." she whispered against your tits, one of her hands running along your spine before you felt the urge for more.

Your ass landed again, this time Vi’s knee between your legs as she kissed you again. You wanted more, you wanted to know what else could be offered by a woman whose experiences had hardened her character but were unable to sour her kisses and moans. Vi still had so much love to offer, and you knew she loved you, every action, every look said it. The way she made you breakfast while you dealt with endless loads of work at your desk said it, her banal conversations that sought to lift your spirits said it, her hands holding you as if you were physically a necessity said it, the bags of money resting on the table said it, and her bruises from brutal fights where her main motivation was you, said it. Vi always loved you, but it was only a matter of time before you realized it was a romantic affection, not a friendly one.

You were exasperated, your hips rocking as Vi pressed her knee into your core, a delicious friction that produced a pleasant, addictive tingle, your wetness speaking for itself. Vi gripped your waist tightly, setting the pace, watching you with attentive eyes and parted lips. You found yourself moaning against her lips, kissing her in fits and starts before you had to pull back for more. "You're so pretty." she whispered.

You leaned in for another kiss, before your hands went down to pull Vi's top off. The contrast was clear, Vi standing out for her muscles and roughness, the network of tattoos on her arms and back capturing your attention for a moment before you ran a hand over her chest. Discreet glances spoke, and the moans that indicated something was going (very) right. Vi patted your thigh before you withdrew from her lap, sliding your panties down gently as she placed a trail of kisses from your hip to your knee.

You felt self-conscious, Vi’s gaze seemed to take in every last detail of your body, from the bones of your hips, to your navel, to the pubic hair that covered your crotch. But your insecurity had no place in the eyes of a woman who simply wanted you for being you. “Don’t give me that look, you’re gorgeous.” She smiled, her hand settling between your legs as she probed your wetness. “Shh… just checking.” She whispered, her thumb gently circling your clit. “Does that feel good?”

"Yes..." you moaned, the suggestive wet noises making you shiver. "Really good." you spread your legs wider, giving Vi the consent to continue further.

You lifted one knee onto the couch as a finger gently entered and curled towards the nearest wall of your insides, giving you a sweet tickle. Vi studied your expressions, the way your breathing quickened and your hands rested on her shoulders for support.

"You're so soft..." she murmured, her own breathing labored as she continued to watch your expressions closely, seeking any sign of discomfort. "Tell me if it hurts." her free hand lightly stroked your thigh, a gesture of reassurance while she checked on you constantly, realizing your reaction came from sole pleasure and not pain at all. Soon enough she eased a second finger and a sigh escaped her lips as she felt you clenching around her.

"That's it..." she muttered against your mouth as she leaned in to kiss you, her fingers slowly working in and out of you. Her touch was gentle but firm, as if she was being careful not to hurt you.

Your knees threatened to buckle, the constant motion inside you awakened nerve endings you thought were inert, Vi’s ears searching to pick up your every grunt and moan. Her breathing quickened, before she let out a hiss and pulled her fingers away. A quiet whine escaped your lips and she took a moment to catch her breath. "Sorry... just a sec..."

Vi stood up from the couch, cupping the back of your neck to give you another kiss before gently motioning for you to lie down. "Lay back for me, cupcake." she whispered, finding a way between your legs as she trailed a way of kisses from your chest to your groin. There was a certain urgency to Vi's movements, a desire that made her breathing quicken and her fingers squeeze the flesh of your thighs as she parted them, skipping the main course in favor of running her tongue along the inside of your thighs, placing brief kisses and bites that allowed the blood to flow to your core, awakening your muscles, making you desperate for relief.

"Please."

"Shh, I've got you." she whispered against your skin, her voice a low and sultry rumble, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your inner thighs. "Patience."

You leaned your head back, eyes closing at the wet feel of her tongue as it ran up and down your core. She kept one hand firmly on your hip, the other on your thigh as she kept it apart. You moaned, looking down into a pair of lustful, delighted eyes, her mouth covering your folds, sucking and alternating with the tip of her tongue. Watching you, studying your pleasure, relishing on your sweet whimpers. “Fuck.” You moaned, your hips bucking slightly in search of more contact.

Vi's tongue worked you slowly and deliberately, mapping every inch of your core with a mixture of delicacy and desire. She released your hip and brought her hand up to your chest, her fingers finding your nipple and giving it a firm pinch. "That's it, just feel it..."

Her hand kneaded your breast as her tongue circled your clit, unashamed to make wet, suggestive sounds, to moan against your folds and to stop and look at you from time to time. She smiled, you looked splendid, needy but at the same time pleased, your cheeks slightly rosy, your lips parted, letting out moans and light gasps.

"Breathe, cupcake. I wouldn't want you to hyperventilate," she said mischievously, sticking her tongue out to deliver a long lick along the length of your core.

"Easy for you to say..." you panted, trying to catch your breath. Your mind was spinning, your body aching and desperate. But Vi had something else in mind, a way to drive you to the edge.

“Take a breath.” she whispered, pulling her mouth from between your legs to settle on her knees. “Look at me.” Vi caressed your thighs and moistened her ring and middle fingers with her mouth as you forced yourself to inhale and not exhale gasps of anticipation. Suddenly you felt her hand cup your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. You rested on your forearms behind your back as she inserted both of your fingers, twisting them in a specific motion that managed to draw a muffled whimper from you. It was sparkling, sweet, precise, and in the perfect spot. "Goddamn..." you whined.

"I know." Vi chuckled, kissing you again as the throes of an orgasm built in your lower belly and made your legs tense. "I know, pretty."

You reached a point where your thoughts were cut off, each and every one of them about Vi, her lips against yours, her fingers inside, curling and keeping a steady rhythm that did nothing but lead you down the right path to orgasm. You moaned into her mouth, pulling away to breathe once an electric wave shook every fiber of your body and your legs locked in an involuntary spasm. Vi rested her forehead against your chest, placing soft kisses as your arms cradled her head, yearning to be close to the person who was able to make you come so hard. Vi smiled, studying the way the pleasure settled into your muscles and your arms slackened.

"Good, babe, good..." she whispered, taking a look of your teary eyes before you pulled her to kiss her deeply.

You stared at the ceiling, the sun streaming through the window as your hands ran through Vi’s thick hair. You missed the pink, the dull black hardened her face too much. The boxer sighed, also processing the fact that she had just had sex with you and it had been wonderful from start to finish. This peace was new, it wasn’t temporary or fragile, it was latent, substantial, tangible. It was as if Vi had spent twenty-three years of her life searching for the calm that only lying on your chest gave her, and she couldn’t help but feel genuinely happy and satisfied. This is what life is about, not just surviving, but breaking down defenses and forgetting for a moment about being the strong one. You kissed her crown, Pepper climbed on the sofa and curled up between your feet and Vi's, purring calmly, like a lullaby.

"Looks like Pepper has finally accepted you." you whispered, making Vi lift her face.

"It was damn time. Just like her mom, stubborn as hell." she agreed, looking at the cat briefly before she nuzzled against your chest again. "He better get used to it, cause I ain't leaving your side anytime soon."

[foreignjaykay]

company (a jungkook fic)

part one - "you wish i'd miss you,"

company - a jungkook fic

can we keep each other company?

their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are so silly and unserious, mean boss - yeah no she sucks, ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, yeah i guess thats it...for now hehe

notes: hello everyone!!! hehe its my first fic on tumblr and my first ever jk fic so i really hope you guys like it. im writing after so many years so please ignore mistakes eh. its kinda based on my personal experiences. things will only get interesting as this fic progresses.. lots of new characters will come in the next chapter! this fic will honestly pick up its pace from the second chapter!! anywho lets get into it!! <3

moodboard • playlist • series masterlist

The first thing you saw when you unlocked your phone this morning was a text from Jungkook. That in itself was weird—he wasn’t the type to be up this early, let alone texting people.

jaykay (work) [8:50am]: hi :)

you [8:50am]: oh my god. what did you forget?

jaykay (work)  [8:51am]: have some faith in me. i was texting for something entirely different. 😒

you[8:51am]: are you sick? held hostage? blink twice if you need help.

jaykay (work) [8:52am]: how da hell are u so dramatic in the morning

you [8:52am]: come to the point jungkook

jaykay [8:52am]: fine. 🙄 don’t bring lunch today

you [8:53am]: why?

jaykay (work) [8:53am]: lunch is on me. taking you, shane and mingyu out for ramen

you [8:53am]: 🤨🤨🤨

jaykay (work) [8:54am]: see you in office🥰

You squinted at the screen, trying to process the words through your morning haze. This man barely made it to work before noon on most days, always breezing in with an iced americano and a sheepish grin. And yet here he was, awake and making lunch plans at 9 AM? Suspicious. Very suspicious.

It’s fixed, you know? Him being late to work, getting sarcastic remarks from the bosses - Natasha, the reporting manager (god did she love micromanaging the team) and Kim Song, the director of your company.

But whatever, free ramen was free ramen and, on that note, you finally woke up and went to get ready for the weird day that was ahead of you.

By the time you got to the office, the usual chaos had already begun. Natasha, wasn’t physically present today, thank the lord for that, you thought, but her presence loomed over Zoom calls like a dark cloud. You had barely set down her bag before her laptop screen lit up with an incoming call. Does this woman ever chill?

“Good morning, team,” Natasha’s clipped voice rang out as the screen loaded. “Let’s go over the deliverables for today.” Her screen was hidden and she was on a holiday like she had very explicitly mentioned the week before she left.

You suppressed a groan as you saw Jungkook and Mingyu joining the call too. Shane, their CS intern, looked half-asleep. Jungkook, though, was oddly quiet, his usual playful banter nowhere to be seen. His leg bounced under the desk, fingers drumming against the tabletop.

You shot him a look, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

Okay that was weird, wasn’t it?

You looked towards Mingyu and Shane to see if they noticed Jungkook being a little off today but to your surprise they were engrossed on what Natasha was instructing on the upcoming event which was the luxurious Cartier dinner.

Classic Natasha, putting her work on us while she sips on pina coladas on the beach after this 10-minute meeting. You wanted to be as carefree as her sometimes, how easily she just threw her tasks on others.

Throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Jungkook which thankfully he didn’t notice.

Or at least that’s what you thought.

Jungkook knew you. He knew how curious you got sometimes and he also knew currently the wheels were turning in your head wondering why he was being so awkward. He smiled internally, thinking how much you knew him and how much he was going to miss you.

If you kept looking at him like that, he was going to crack. He just hoped you wouldn’t figure it out before he told you himself.

Once the meeting was over, you quickly went towards the design studio in the office, greeting Yuna and So-hee who seemed like had just come to office with the way they were switching on their systems for the day.

“I really need the final design renders for the stage setup and the seating plan for Cartier, Yuna,” You said worried knowing that if you don’t get these renders in next half an hour then the costing would delay and then Natasha…yeah no.

Its as if Jungkook got a sign, he entered the design studio greeting Yuna, So-hee, and Dae and standing next to you as if to ease the tension you had going on.

“Babe, give me 10 minutes, the renders are ready. I’ll email it to you, Natasha and Namjoon,” Yuna said as she started working on her system. You nodded your head and gave her a worried smile.

“Mark me in the email too,” Jungkook said instantly and you gave him a pointed look. Yuna seemed to mirror your thoughts and raised her eyebrows towards him.

Seeing that you both were confused, Jungkook chuckles and says, “__, you should be happy that I am willingly asking to be marked on emails,” which makes you roll your eyes playfully and smirk.

“Also, I don’t have nothing big going on currently, project wise, so I’ll follow up for the costings and Natasha will stay away from my ass,” Jungkook continues and laughs with Yuna, So-hee and Dae.

You looked at him as he was sort of back in his carefree self but something still felt off. You just couldn’t put your finger on what this feeling was.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough. The second Natasha’s second call for the day wrapped up the call, you shut your laptop and turned towards Jungkook who along with Mingyu and Shane was joking and was waiting for you to get done.

“Okay, spill. What’s with the mystery since today morning?” You immediately asked him and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously.

Mingyu slung an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, dude. You’re making me nervous.”

Shane, ever the observer, just raised a brow. “Is this about work? God I can’t wait to dig into some good ramen after hearing Natasha ramble since past 15 mins. 15 mins with her feel like 2 hours,” Shane continued rambling earning laughs from the three of you.

Jungkook let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get to lunch first.”

That didn’t help your growing suspicion, but you let it slide—at least until the 4 of you reached the ramen place.

The aroma of rich broth and sizzling garlic filled the tiny ramen shop. Shane and Mingyu were already practically vibrating with hunger, menus discarded, ready to order. You, however, were still scanning the options, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. Just as you were about to decide, you and Jungkook spoke in unison: “Japchae.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up. “You wanna have japchae too?” you asked, a little thrill of connection sparking despite the weirdness of the morning. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, and ordered for both of you.

Minutes later, steaming bowls of ramen and the shared plate of japchae arrived. The savory scent made your mouth water. You took a tentative bite of the japchae, the noodles perfectly chewy, the vegetables crisp and flavorful. It was delicious. But Jungkook just sat there, chopsticks hovering over his bowl. He had a strange expression—not quite annoyed, but… something. You knew that look. It was his tell when food was exceptionally good. That’s just his weird trait.

You took the second bite yourself to see if it was and it was really good.

“I got another job.”

Silence.

Your stomach dropped.

Then, Mingyu blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, avoiding their gazes. “I got an offer from an event company. They handle production for A-list musicians—concerts, world tours, all of it.” But you could see how proud he was. This was his dream.

“Oh, shit, that’s huge,” Shane said, eyes wide and dramatically keeping his chopsticks on the side.

Jungkook looked at you trying to gauge for your reaction.

You swallowed, gripping your chopsticks a little tighter. “Wow. That’s… incredible, Jungkook.” You said genuinely but why did it feel so off? Why did it feel like you were losing everything? People leave jobs all the time and this is no different, so why was it feeling all to different suddenly?

When you congratulated him, you meant it. You really did. He deserved this. But there was a weird, hollow feeling in your chest. Something tight that you couldn’t quite name.

Jungkook was watching you and asked, “You okay?”

You forced a smile but to everyone it looked genuine. “Of course. This is a big deal. I am so happy for you, Jungkook!” Mingyu and Shane mirrored your smile and congratulated him to which Jungkook threw an honest smile.

His eyes still lingered for a second longer before he nodded, turning his attention back to his food. But you could tell he didn’t fully believe you.

Mingyu and Shane immediately started asking him the questions about his new company and the new job and Jungkook excitedly answered them all and you were interested too to know all the details.

Once the 4 of you were done with the lunch, you asked him, “So when are you telling Natasha?”

“Next week, and then 2 weeks’ notice,” He said looking at you as if he was trying to find an emotion out of you.

“Damn bro, you are leaving us so soon.” Shane said and you looked at Jungkook.

“Now at least I will have some proper desk space at the office,” You tried to joke which earned you a playful eye roll from Jungkook.

“Oh my god, I have to plan a farewell party for you now,” Mingyu joked and you laughed. For the whole lunch, this is the first time Jungkook noticed you genuinely smiling and it was all thanks to Mingyu’s dramatic nature.

The rest of the workday felt strangely off-balance. Even though nothing had technically changed yet, you felt the weight of the upcoming shift pressing down on you. The knowledge that soon, Jungkook wouldn’t be here anymore—wouldn’t be there to roll his eyes at Natasha’s ridiculous demands, wouldn’t be crashing at her desk with an iced coffee and a new piece of gossip, wouldn’t be around to share those unspoken glances when things got too absurd.

You had started hating how much that realization unsettled you.

It was Jungkook who got you out of your dazed thoughts when he said, “___, I have asked Namjoon hyung for the Cartier costing and he is working on it,”

You threw a sincere smile towards him and nodded while he went back on his desk and worked on some small projects he had going on.

gyu (work) [3pm]: are you okay?

Once you read the text, you immediately looked at him but he acted to be so engrossed in his work and you couldn’t help but look back into your phone and text back

you [3:01pm]: yeah, why?

gyu (work) [3:01pm]: you sure about that? ever since jk dropped that bomb, you have been quiet and so has he.

That got your attention. Were you that obvious?

you [3:02pm]: no nothing like that. im happy that he got this. he deserves it!! also when is the blue label bottle engraving costing going to the client? natasha has been on my ass about it since morning. send it asap please <33

gyu [3:03pm]: girl i gotta give it to you, nice attempt to change the convo but we aren’t done yet. ugh why are you my senior? im sending it in 5

By the time the day ended and finally the costings for Cartier had gone out (thanks to Jungkook and Joon), you had convinced yourself you were just being dramatic. People left jobs all the time. This wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

Mingyu and Shane had already left for the day and the design studio was also empty leaving only you and Jungkook in the client servicing department. For a Monday, people had left earlier than usual, you thought to yourself.

You looked at the clock and saw it was 7pm already.

While you packed your bags, like routine, Jungkook waited for you. He dropped you home everyday given that you both lived nearby and your apartment came on the way to his.

However, the silence between the two of you felt heavier than usual.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said as the two of you entered the elevator.

You forced a laugh and adjusted your purse, trying to look anywhere but at him. “So are you.”

The two of you exited the elevator and sat in his car, he started the engine. For the first time ever, the silence between the two of you was uncomfortable.

Jungkook sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he took the familiar route and said, “Are you really happy for me?”

You immediately turned to look at him, meeting his gaze in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Yes, I am. Why would you think I am not?”

His smile was small, a little sad. “Alright. You and I haven’t spoken much since lunch,”

You didn’t know why, but something in your chest ached at that. But you ignored it,  and looking towards and giving him a smile and said, “Jungkook, I am so happy for you. I am. I know you wanted this and now you have it,”

For the first time in the whole day, he smiled genuinely at you.

“Will you miss me?,” He asked as he stopped the car right out of your apartment and looked at you with his doe eyes that carry the sta-

Wait what?!

You ignored whatever that thought was and quickly composed yourself and laughed at him. “You wish I would miss you,” You joked playfully and he rolled his eyes.

“On a serious note, yes I will. Who will I tolerate Natasha with?” You continued and he let out a small chuckle.

“Anyway I have to go. See you tomorrow boss,” you finally said, and then you were gone, disappearing into the building.

Jungkook sat there for a moment, staring after you.

He knew you better than you thought. He knew when you were genuinely happy, when you were just pretending, when you were holding back something you didn’t want to say. And tonight, you were definitely holding back.

Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the car seat. Leaving this job was supposed to be exciting, a step up, an opportunity of a lifetime. And it was.

But why did it feel like he was losing something, too?

© foreignjaykay

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent Calendar Day 25!!!!!!!

Shadow X GN Reader

Merry Christmas

Twas the morning of Christmas and all through the house

not a creature was stirring not even a chao.

The Stockings were filled with gifts and much more

And presents under the tree there was so much was in store.

the lovers were snuggled nice and warm in their bed

with dreams of each other dancing round in their head.

and that my dear reader sets the scene,

for I quickly grew tired of this rhyme scheme.

🎄

Shadow was the first to awaken, cracking his eyes open he saw that you were still wrapped in his arms from the night before. he looked down admiring how beautiful you looked as you slept, so serene and gentle. he couldn't help but lay a kiss between your ears, holding you close as you snoozed.

your eyes fluttered open after about thirty minuets, feeling a warm embrace and the sweet sensation of Shadow petting your hair you looked up at him and smiled.

"Good morning sweetheart" you said your voice still a little groggy.

"Good morning my love, merry Christmas" he said gently.

"Is that really today?"

"Yes, would you like some breakfast, or maybe open up some presents?"

"mmm, In a little while, I want to stay here for a bit."

"very well love, take as long as you need."

You two spent the next hour snuggling in bed holding onto each other keeping the cold weather at bay. the two of you holding each other's ungloved hands enjoying the soft intimacy of skin on skin contact. sweet nothings were whispered as the wind blew softly against the window.

"I suppose we should have some breakfast" You said finally ready to begin the day.

"How would you like me to help?"

"Could you feed the Chao and grab our pancake toppings from the pantry"

"Consider it done"

The two of you quickly got to work on your tasks You brewed some coffee and grabbed Shadow his beans. Within a half hour you had a pancake feast ready for the two of you.

After breakfast you couldn't wait anymore. It was time for presents.

The two of you took turns opening one another's gift's. Much to your surprise Shadow was a very advanced gift giver. he gave you things you never thought to ask for, like a replica of your favorite toy from childhood, the perfect accessory for an outfit that never felt quite complete to you, a signed album from your favorite musician. what warmed your heart the most wasn't the things themselves but the fact that he had listened to you, he took the time to know you well enough and chose your gifts from the heart, that was the best gift you received on Christmas morning.

after presents you went on a walk enjoying the winter weather. you played in the snow even letting Shadow's Chao in on the fun.

Vanilla insisted on having everyone over for Christmas dinner. Her home filled with the most wonderful aromas imaginable. a meal made with love and served to a company of your closest friend's, what could be better than that.

That night after the two of you had gone home, you were snuggled up by the fireplace.

"Did You have a good Christmas?" Shadow asked

"The best" you responded

"I'm glad you think so."

Shadow placed a kiss on your lips, warming your insides any hint of a chill destroyed by his love.

"Merry Christmas Shadow"

"Merry Christmas Y/N"

Note: Oh my gosh it's Finally Done!!!! I want to thank everyone who has read this series even if you only read one or two it means so much to me, every like, comment, and reblog really helped push me forward and keep going with this series. this is the first time I've ever completed a project like this and I'm so proud of myself. I started this blog to help me get through a really tough personal time and thanks to all of you lovely readers you helped me get through it. I will be taking a short break for now not too long maybe just a week or two. I have been writing for this blog non-stop since October and I want to avoid any burn out. I will be back soon with Regency Au part three (which is looking to be very long) and chapter one of my enemies to lovers series so be sure look out for those soon. I will continue to do my one shots as well as I really enjoy doing them I think I'll probably need to figure out a schedule lol. until next time, Merry Christmas and have a beautiful Day.

Much love,

-Chrystal

[woso-story]

Mila's Norwegian Christmas

Ingird Engen x Mapi Leon x BabyMila

It was the kind of December morning that promised magic—crisp, clear skies and a chilly breeze that danced through the streets of Barcelona. In their cozy apartment, the morning sun stretched its golden fingers through the windows, spilling light onto the living room floor. Inside, there was a beautiful chaos: Mapi was sprawled on the floor with Mila, their three-year-old daughter, alongside her. And, of course, Bagheera, their fluffy, sassy cat, was curled up in the middle of it all, soaking in the sun too.

Ingrid had just come home from running errands, her arms full of shopping bags. As she entered the living room, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before her. There was Mapi, still in her warm oversized sweater, lying down on the floor next to Mila, who was in her own little world, chattering happily. Bagheera was stretched out between them, her fur catching the rays of the sun like a golden halo. 

It wasn’t a typical morning, but Ingrid adored moments like this—simple, cozy, and full of love. But even though it looked peaceful, she knew there was an underlying challenge ahead. This was going to be their first Christmas in Norway and Mila had never experienced winter there. 

Mila had met Ingrid’s parents before, on the few occasions when they had visited Norway in the past. However, those trips had been in the warmer months, and Mila had never known Norway during the winter chill, the snow, or the frost-covered trees that Ingrid had grown up with. Ingrid had always talked about her family’s Christmas traditions in Norway—how magical it was to wake up to snow-covered streets, how fun it was to go sledging, ice-skating, and to sit by the fire with family. It all sounded wonderful, and Ingrid was determined to share it with Mila. But there was one small problem: Mila was very much a Barcelona girl. She loved the warmth, the sunshine, and the comfort of her familiar surroundings. The thought of a snowy Christmas in a freezing Norway didn’t excite her in the slightest. 

“Maria,” Ingrid said with a mischievous smile, leaning against the doorframe of the living room. “Do you realize that Mila and Bagheera are both the same—perfectly content to just lay in the sun all day?”

Mapi laughed, her bright blonde hair falling softly over her shoulders. “I guess I did pass on my love of sunbathing,” she replied. “But I can’t blame them. It’s the best part of the day.”

Mila, noticing that her mom was talking to Mapi, bounced up on her little feet, her curly hair bouncing with her. “Mama!” she said in a sing-song voice, running over to Ingrid, “Look! Bagheera is sleeping with us!”

Ingrid smiled at the way her daughter’s face lit up at the simplest things. Mila was still young, but her spirit was already so vibrant. She was curious, always on the move, and had a fierce love for her family—especially for Bagheera, their black cat who had been with them since Mila was a baby. 

Ingrid took a deep breath, watching Mila curl back up beside Mapi. The thought of the cold, snowy trip ahead weighed on Ingrid’s mind. They had talked to Mila about their plans for Christmas in Norway, explaining that they would fly to Ingrid’s parents’ house, where they could enjoy snow, sledging, and maybe even build a snowman. At first, Mila had been intrigued, her eyes wide with excitement at the idea of snow. But as soon as Ingrid mentioned the cold, Mila’s face fell. 

“I don’t want to go to Norway,” Mila had said, pouting slightly. “I want to stay here with Bagheera. I don’t like the cold.”

Ingrid had tried to reassure her. “It’s going to be so much fun, sweetheart! You’ll get to play in the snow, and you’ll see your grandparents, and you’ll have lots of fun with them! And don’t worry—your grandparents will be so happy to see you.”

But Mila had shaken her head. “I want to stay here with Bagheera,” she repeated stubbornly. 

“I know, baby,” Ingrid had said, smiling softly. “Bagheera will be fine. We’re just going on a little adventure, and soon you’ll see how fun snow can be!”

Despite Ingrid’s words, Mila wasn’t convinced. As the day of their flight approached, the little girl remained grumpy, unsure about the whole idea. It didn’t help that they couldn’t bring Bagheera with them. Ingrid and Mapi had explained that Bagheera would stay with her grandparents in Zaragoza, but Mila’s concern about her beloved cat was palpable. 

And so, two days later, they found themselves on a flight to Norway. Mila had her arms crossed over her chest, a pout firmly in place. She looked like a tiny replica of Mapi—her fiery look, the pout, and even the way she folded her arms. Mapi noticed it too and couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s definitely my daughter,” Mapi said with a grin. 

When they landed in Norway, the first thing Mila noticed was the cold. It was a sharp contrast to the warmth of Barcelona, and the snow-covered streets looked nothing like the sun-drenched beaches Mila was used to. Ingrid, wrapped in a thick coat and scarf, kept a watchful eye on her daughter as they walked to the taxi. Mila, bundled up in layers, had a look of complete disbelief on her face as she tugged at her scarf. 

Mapi, standing beside her, pouted just as dramatically, mirroring Mila’s discomfort. Ingrid laughed, snapping a picture of the two of them in their matching winter gear. She sent the photo to the Barcelona team chat with a note: “Twins in the cold. Not amused.”

When they arrived at Ingrid’s parents’ house, there was a warmth that instantly made Mila feel better. Ingrid’s parents were ecstatic to see their daughter and granddaughter, and Mila quickly forgot her grumpiness when she was swept into the arms of her grandparents. She loved seeing how tall they were, and the best part of any visit was always when her grandad, Orjan, would lift her onto his shoulders. Mila loved that feeling of being the tallest person in the room, and she couldn’t stop giggling whenever her grandpa would spin around, pretending she was the queen of the world.

But despite her grandparents’ excitement, Mila was still a little homesick. The snow was beautiful, but it wasn’t Barcelona, and she missed her familiar routines. Ingrid could see her daughter struggling with the change, but she wasn’t worried. She knew that soon, Mila would find her rhythm. 

Later, they went ice-skating at a nearby rink. To everyone’s surprise, Mila was a natural. After a few wobbly attempts and some help from Ingrid, she was skating around the rink like she had been doing it for years. Mapi, on the other hand, was struggling to stay upright, clinging to the edge of the rink and laughing every time she fell. Mila skated circles around her, calling, “Come on, Mami! I can do it. You can do it too!”

And then, something changed. The first time they went sledging down the hills, Mila’s mood shifted. The excitement of zooming down the snow-covered slopes with Mapi, who was laughing just as much as she was, was too much to resist. Mila’s giggles filled the air, and soon she was asking to go again, eager for the next run.

---

Everyone laughed as Mapi took yet another tumble. Ingrid, offering a hand to her wife, couldn’t resist teasing her. “Looks like we’ve got a little Norwegian ice princess on our hands,” she said with a grin.

Christmas Eve came, and the family gathered around the beautifully decorated tree in Ingrid’s parents’ home. The sight of all the presents underneath it made Mila’s eyes widen in wonder. She was amazed at how many gifts there were, and most of them had her name on them. Her grandparents even gave her a surprise gift—her very own pair of ice skates. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged a look of pride. It was clear their little girl had won over Norway, even if it took her a little while to adjust.

Mila beamed. “I’m going to be the best skater in Barcelona! Watch out!” she announced proudly, already planning how she would show off her new skills to her friends back home.

---

That evening, as they sat by the fire, enjoying the warmth and the comfort of family, Ingrid leaned back, watching Mila talk animatedly about her new ice-skating skills. “She’s definitely more Spanish than Norwegian,” Ingrid murmured with a smile.

“She’s a perfect mix of both of us,” Mapi said, her heart swelling with pride. 

And as they boarded the plane back to Barcelona, Mila surprised them by asking, “When are we going back to Norway again? I want to build another snowman!” 

Ingrid and Mapi exchanged a glance, smiling. Maybe their little Barcelona girl was more Norwegian than they thought.

[draftdweller]

Chilled to the bone

More Logan x Reader fluff

Y/N and Logan mistakenly book the same cabin for a winter getaway, and their trip turns them into a very close pair after they're snowed in.

Warnings: Fluff, Light kissing, Grumpy!Reader, a hint of angst if you squint hard enough, tiny amount of sexual behaviors, MDNI

A break from all the chaos, A week by yourself in a cozy cabin, that was all that was on your mind as you packed your bags. You had booked this trip weeks ago after a particularly rough mission where nothing had gone according to plan.

Little did you know that upon your arrival, you wouldn't be by yourself at the cabin. Logan Had the same idea of getting away for a little while, and it seemed that the listing for the cabin on that week had not been changed. When you arrived and set your bags down, you noticed his belongings on the bed and your jaw drops to the floor. Everyone in the mansion knew your feelings for the man, how indifferent you were to him when everyone could see the two of you.

They had also noticed the look you gave him when you thought no one was around. The pining, longing glances that seemed to linger a bit too long until he looked at you. He would barely acknowledge you most days, seemingly uncaring. But you knew he had a past, and whatever that past was, it made him hard on the outer edges. Jagged even, just enough to cut deeply if you got too close.

When you had seen his belongings on the bed, you toed closer to the bathroom door, that was shut, giving a shy knock, and shortly after, the door swinging open. He looked just as surprised as you when he saw you standing there. His brows knit together, and he tilted his head. "Y/N, what on god's earth are you doing here?"

"I booked this place weeks ago, logan. The question is, why are you here?" Your words come out accusingly and curt, not actually caring why he was there, but more irritated that you weren't going to be alone after all it seemed.

"I booked here, almost three weeks ago, bub. Didn't realize I wasn't going to be alone." You shook your head and huffed, turning on your heel to walk away, you could hear the snowstorm outside picking up and the wind howling. You were almost tempted to leave, and he noticed it too. "Don't go out in that, I hear it's only supposed to get worse through the night." His voice was gruff, and his back turned to you.

"Well, I'm not sharing a bed with you logan." "Never said you have to. I can take the couch. If it picks up anymore, it could be dangerous to go anywhere." He was so nonchalant about the entire thing; it only irritated you further. You wanted a week away from him, from everyone. But from him mostly, so you could get over this stupid crush you seemed to have on him. "Well. Get your things off the bed. I might as well sleep then" As you spoke you noticed him already moving to do so, and as soon as his stuff was off the bed, you laid down, nestling under the blanket and closing your eyes before drifting off to a dreamless slumber.

By the time you woke up, it wasn't even morning, but you were laying there shivering. It was warm in here when you got here. You got up, and wrapped yourself in the comforter, walking to the living room area, and seeing a fire going in the fireplace, logan tending to it with candles lit around him. "Why is it so goddamned cold in here, logan?" "Lost power and heat. Come sit by the fire, I'll make some hot chocolate or something over it"

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to the window and looked outside. You couldn't see through the flurry of snow how bad it was, but you eventually turned back to face him and walked over to the fireplace, sitting on the floor in front of it. You didn't want the hot chocolate, but you took a pillow off the couch and laid in front of the fire, trying to warm your bones. You couldn't help the shivering, but eventually being by the fire warmed you enough you could fall back asleep.

By the time the morning came, the heat was still out, but the power was at least on now. The wind was still howling outside, but from the kitchenette you could smell bacon and eggs being cooked. Your stomach growled at the smell, and you got up, walking to the kitchen and rubbing your face with a groan.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine" Logan drawled out, you didn't understand how he wasn't freezing his ass off right now, and didn't say anything. You just sat at the table, which had been set for two, and had a cup of coffee prepared just the way you liked it. You were never a morning person, and everyone knew it.

He looked over at you, sleep addled face, messy hair and wrapped in the blanket and chuckled. He knew you had to be cold, because you were still sitting there shivering, even as you drank the hot coffee. He set a plate down in front of you "Dig in. I know you like bacon, but I wasn't sure how you liked your eggs, so I scrambled them" "Scrambled works just fine, Logan." So does fertilized, you thought to yourself and quickly shook your head. Staying here with him was definitely not helping your crush, or the way you wanted to feel wrapped in his arms. You quickly dug into the food, and groaned at how good it was. He was a good cook to say the least. But you still needed to find another cabin to stay at, you didn't want to deal with the fact that every move around him made you just want to hide. You had a feeling he could sense your feelings for him but didn't say anything.

You felt his eyes on you while you ate, and as soon as you finished you got up and dug through your bag, and grabbed the warmest of your outfits. You walked into the bathroom and changed, before walking to the front door and opening it, attempting to leave. As soon as the door opened, you saw snow piled up over half the height of the door. You looked back to see Logan standing there with a glass of amber liquid and then turned your attention back to the door. You were stuck here with him, at least until the doorway was cleared. You sighed and looked at him "No heat, and no chance of me finding another place to enjoy the small vacation."

His lips quirk up slightly as you shut the door and walk back towards the couch, but before you could make it, he grabs your wrist gently. He pulled you to him, turning to cage you against the wall with his arms "Well, it's a good thing I enjoy your company then, isn't it, bub?" His voice was low and sultry as he spoke, and your eyes went wide "Logan, what, what are you doing?" You were tripping over your words as they came out, fast and rambling. "C'mon bub, you think I never caught you looking at me. You were never quick enough to look away before I caught it." Your cheeks were hot to the point you knew your entire face was red. Your eyes were gazing into his, and he leaned closer, your lips parting as your breath caught in your throat. This had to be a dream, there was no way he was doing this.

As if it couldn't be any more like a dream. He leaned in and kissed you. His hand coming up to catch your jaw in his fingers. You let all restraint go and kissed him back. You had to admit, he was a great kisser, his lips soft, tongue gently exploring your mouth. You could taste the alcohol on his breath. It was too soon when he pulled away and looked at you with hooded lids, his eyes glimmering softly and his thumb stroking your chin softly.

"I wanted to have a chance before you found someone to settle in with" You spoke softly and looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, fearing you'd never be enough for him.

"Hey, Y/N. I never wanted to settle in with anyone, as much as I did you. But I don't ever want to hurt you, and I know I'm more than capable of doing so."

A/N: This is going to be the beginning of a small series, let me know what you want in the next part!

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, angst, mentions of shooting, confusion, flufffffff

The morning light beamed through the windows of the bridal studio as I quickly unlocked the door, stepping into the familiar sight of lace and silk. It was a quiet Saturday morning after my date with Chris, and the shop felt like a safe space from the thoughts swirling through my mind since last night. I flicked on the lights, the soft glow illuminating the rows of white gowns hanging in neat lines. Saturdays were always busy, especially with brides coming in for final fittings, but today felt like it would be a bit harder since there was a heavy weight in my chest that I couldn’t seem to lift.

As I settled behind the counter, I turned on the small radio, keeping my normal routine. Soft music played for a few moments before the news interrupted.

“Breaking news this morning: Boston police are investigating two separate shootings that occurred last night. One incident took place in Somerville, while the other took place in the South End area. No fatalities have been reported yet, but authorities believe both incidents may be gang related. More updates to follow.”

I paused, my fingers freezing over the appointment book. Two shootings? I felt a chill run down my spine as I listened. How awful it was that violence like this was so common here the last few years, and how easily lives could be shattered overnight. The mention of gangs tugged at something deep within me - a sense of unease I had been trying to push away since Chris abruptly left last night. I shook my head, trying to shake the thought.

I went through the motions of my normal working day, greeting brides and their families with the same professional smile, but my thoughts kept drifting. The night before had left me feeling.. off.. and heavily single. Chris and I had started the date on such a high, but the way he left so suddenly, without really explaining much, left me with a sinking feeling. It wasn’t just disappointment, it was confusion, too. Was I the only one catching feelings? It made me feel fucking stupid.

After my shift ended, I headed home, my legs heavy with exhaustion. As soon as I walked through my bedroom door and threw myself on my bed, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it, expecting a message from Willow, and sure enough, her name lit up my screen.

Willow: “Hey girl! There’s a party at Tyler’s tomorrow night. You should totally come! And see if Chris wants to join ;) Maybe ask him to bring along a certain friend too..”

I sighed, dropping my phone on my bed. A party. Part of me wanted to go and let loose, but the other part was still tangled up in confusion about Chris. I hadn’t gotten the chance to fill Willow in on it yet. Was I being ridiculous for feeling this way after one date? I barely knew him now.. he wasn’t the same Chris I’d remembered from my teenage years. He was more.. closed off, like there were parts of his life he couldn’t or wouldn’t let me see. The uncertainty of it all scared me.

I told myself I’d wait a bit to reply to Willow. As I was about to set my phone down, it buzzed again.

Chris: “Check your tree house.”

I blinked, confused. What could he possibly mean? I pushed myself off of my bed and stepped toward the balcony door, pushing it open as the cool evening air washed over me. My gaze shifted to the old tree house in the backyard, a relic of someone’s childhood that hadn’t seen much use in years. With curiosity tugging at me, I slipped outside, my heart pounding as I squinted across into the tree house window that was now glowing inside.

I stopped once my eyes fixated on what was inside, my breath catching in my throat.

The tree house was transformed. There were fairy lights hung around the edges of the roof, blankets and pillows spread across the floor, pizza boxes neatly stacked in the corner, a bouquet of wildflowers lying on top. It was perfect in a way I hadn’t expected.

I looked down from the treehouse and standing there was Chris. His eyes met mine, a small smile forming on his lips as he waved.

"Hey.." he called up softly. "Can I come up?"

I couldn’t help but smile back, my heart doing backflips. “Yeah get up here” I laughed.

Chris climbed up with ease, as I climbed in through the window. He glanced around at the setup, his expression a little smug. I laughed, warmth spreading through me. "This is really sweet, Chris. You didn’t have to do all this."

"I wanted to" he said, his eyes meeting mine in a deep, sincere way that made my heart race. “I wanted to make up for last night” he said quietly. “I’m sorry about the way things went.. I really didn’t want to leave like that.. I felt like I messed up, and I don’t want you to feel like... I don’t care. Because I do."

I studied him for a moment, trying to find the right words. “It’s okay” I replied, though a part of me had been hurt. “I was just.. a little confused. I thought we were having a good time, and then you had to go so suddenly.”

Chris nodded, his face full of regret. “I know. I didn’t plan for it to go that way. But I really did enjoy our date, and I wanted to make it up to you with something a little more.. private.” He gestured to the tree house, the pizza, the flowers. “I figured this was a good place to start.”

I smiled, warmth spreading through me. “It’s perfect.”

We sat there for a while, sharing slices of pizza and talking. It was so easy to fall into conversation with him. Every now and then, I’d catch him looking at me with that same intensity I remembered from years ago, only now, it was deeper, more meaningful. It was like he was seeing me, really seeing me, for the first time. I had to admit, I liked the way it made me feel.

"You know" Chris said, his tone becoming a bit more serious, "when we were younger... I always thought you were going to do something amazing, I was always in awe of you."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You were always so determined, so driven. I mean, you seem to really be doing things for yourself Y/n."

I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, and the way he seemed genuinely interested in me. It made me feel seen, like he really cared. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was scared. Scared because I could feel myself falling for him. Fast.

We kept talking, the hours slipping by as we shared stories, hopes, and dreams. The conversation flowed easily, and before I knew it, it was near midnight, and a cool breeze had started to creep into the air.

I shivered slightly, and Chris noticed immediately. "You’re cold" he said, concern flashing in his eyes.

"A little" I admitted, hugging the blanket around myself.

He glanced toward my house, then back at me. "Do you want to go inside? I mean, if you’re okay with that."

I hesitated for a second, but then nodded. "Yeah. My parents are still away, so.. there’s no issue."

We climbed out the tree house window, making our way back inside through the balcony door. The warmth of my room wrapped around us, and I gestured for him to make himself comfortable. Chris settled onto the edge of my bed, his eyes scanning the room before landing back on me.

"This is nice" he said, smiling softly.

I sat beside him, my heart racing a little faster now that we were inside. The atmosphere was different - more intimate, more charged. And yet, there was a sense of comfort that made me feel safe. Chris shifted closer, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him as he gently took my hand in his.

“This place is exactly how I imagined it would be” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head in curiosity.

Chris chuckled softly, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “I don’t know.. It just feels like you. Neat, organised, but with a little bit of chaos thrown in.” He nodded toward my cluttered desk, where textbooks and random papers were strewn about. “Like that.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing as I sat down next to him. “Hey, I’m busy! College life is no joke.”

He grinned. “I know. And I still can’t believe you’re studying law.”

I felt my cheeks warm at the compliment, but his tone had a hint of something else - something more uncertain. “What?” I asked, studying his face. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“No, that’s not it” he said quickly. “I just.. I don’t know. It’s a lot. A lawyer and a guy like me?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s one hell of a combo.”

I nudged him playfully. “A guy like you?” I repeated, teasing. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Chris.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Maybe.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the moment. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen for a split second before putting it back without replying. The name had flashed across the screen too quickly for me to see, but there was something about the way he ignored it that made my stomach churn. Was it another girl? 

“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

Chris hesitated for a beat, then smiled. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t, maybe I’m overthinking.. There’s no way he’d do all of that if there was another girl in the picture.

Chris’s hand was still held in mine and I could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. His presence felt so calming, yet there was this underlying tension, a kind of electricity I couldn't quite ignore.

I shifted slightly to face him, our eyes meeting. For a second, we just stared at each other, as if both of us were trying to figure out what the other was thinking. His gaze dropped briefly to my lips, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken.

“Chris..” I started, not even sure where I was going with it, but his name felt like the only thing I could say in that moment.

He leaned in a little closer, his hand gently finding its way to my cheek, his thumb lightly brushing my skin. The touch sent a wave of warmth through me, and I instinctively leaned into it.

“I’m really glad we reconnected.” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were so sincere, so full of something I hadn’t expected to see – vulnerability.

I felt the same vulnerability rising in me, too. “Me too” I whispered back, and before I could say anything more, he closed the small gap between us.

His lips met mine gently, testing at first, almost hesitant. But when I responded, pressing back into him, it was like something clicked between us. The kiss deepened, his hand moving from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. I could feel my heart racing, but this time it wasn’t out of nervousness or fear. It was because this felt right.

For a moment, everything else melted away. The awkwardness of the previous night, the confusion I had felt.. all of it disappeared as the kiss continued, soft yet filled with an undeniable intensity. It was like we’d been waiting for this moment for years, and now that it was here, neither of us wanted to let go.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, and I smiled softly, my lips still tingling from the kiss.

“That..” I began, still trying to catch my breath, “was.. unexpected.”

Chris chuckled lightly, his hand still gently holding the back of my neck. “Yeah” he murmured, his voice low and husky, “but in the best way.”

I couldn’t help but agree. There was something about being here, in this moment, with him, that made everything else seem so far away, like we were the only two people in the world.

Before I could second guess myself, I looked up at him and smiled. "There’s a party tomorrow night, Willow invited me.. do you want to come? She said you could bring Nate too if you’d like"

Chris smiled, his eyes lighting up in that familiar, charming way. "I’d love to. I’m sure Nate would too."

For the rest of the night, we stayed close, talking in whispers, sharing more smiles, more laughs and even a few more kisses. It was like we were stepping into something new together, something unspoken but full of possibility.

The nervousness I had felt earlier about catching feelings seemed to evaporate, replaced with something even scarier – hope. Maybe, just maybe, this thing between us could actually work.

a/n: are things going to work out???

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend

[kathlare]

family matters

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando returns home to London for a visit with his family, and during the evening, he opens up to them about his relationship with Amelie. His family reacts with excitement, teasing him about dating a famous actress.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

December 20th, 2023 - London, United Kingdom

Lando walked up the narrow pathway to his parents' home, the chill of the London winter biting at his cheeks. It had been months since he last visited, and although he cherished every moment with his family, this visit felt more significant. His bag slung over his shoulder, he adjusted his scarf as he knocked on the familiar wooden door.

The door swung open, revealing his younger sister, Flo, her face lighting up when she saw him.

—Finally! Look who decided to show up!— she teased, stepping aside to let him in.

—Hey, Flo. Miss me?— Lando smirked, pulling her into a quick hug before kicking off his boots and stepping into the warm house.

—Barely, but Mum has been going on about you all morning, so maybe she did.— Flo grinned, leading him into the cozy living room. The scent of freshly brewed tea and homemade biscuits filled the air, instantly making Lando feel at home.

His mum, Cisca, appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her face lit up when she saw her son.

—Lando! About time, love.— She enveloped him in a warm hug, holding him a little longer than usual. —How was the flight?—

—Uneventful, just how I like it.— He smiled, enjoying the warmth of his mum’s embrace.

As he sat down, his younger sister, Cisca Junior, joined them with a mug of tea in hand.

—So, are you going to tell us what you’ve been up to? Or do we have to pry it out of you?— she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Lando hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. He knew he wanted to tell them about Amelie, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. His sisters and mum loved gossip, especially when it involved him. He decided to dive in.

—Actually... there's something I wanted to tell you.— He paused, looking at the three women in the room, their curiosity piqued. —I’ve been seeing someone. For a while now, actually.—

Cisca nearly choked on her tea.

—You? Seeing someone? And you didn’t tell us?— she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and excitement.

—Wait, wait, wait.— Flo leaned forward, eyes wide. —Who is it? Do we know her?—

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t shake.

—Yeah, you know her. It’s Amelie.—

The room went silent for a moment, and then both of his sisters erupted.

—AMELIE DAYMAN?— Flo practically screamed. —As in THE Amelie? The actress, the singer, the absolute queen?—

—Oh my god, Lando!— Cisca’s eyes were wide. —How did you even manage that? She’s so far out of your league.—

Lando rolled his eyes, cheeks turning pink.

—Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cis.—

His mum, who had been quietly smiling, finally spoke up.

—I always liked Amelie. Such a sweet girl. How long has this been going on, then?—

Lando exhaled, grateful his mum wasn’t joining in on the chaos.

—We’ve been together properly since November, so it’s still pretty new. But we’ve known each other for years, and we’ve been close for a long time.— Lando leaned back on the couch, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile as he thought about Amelie.

Flo was already pulling out her phone, likely to Google every recent photo or interview of Amelie.

—Hold on, hold on. You said ‘properly’? Does that mean... oh my god! Did you guys date before? Spill!— Flo’s excitement was contagious, her curiosity razor-sharp.

Lando sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get away with keeping things vague.

—Alright, fine. We kind of had... a thing a few years ago. It didn’t work out back then, but we reconnected this year, and... yeah, now we’re together.— He shrugged, trying to downplay the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of her.

—This is wild.— Cisca grinned, her hands clasped in excitement. —You’re dating Amelie Dayman. Do you realize how obsessed the entire world would be if they knew? People ship you two constantly.—

—We’ve seen the edits!— Flo added, scrolling through her phone. —The “Lanmelie” is basically a thing. And they’re right; you guys do look amazing together.—

—Well, it’s not public yet, so don’t go blabbing to anyone.— Lando gave them both a pointed look. —We’re keeping it private for now. Just close friends and family know.—

His mum sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

—I think that’s a good idea, love. Relationships in the public eye can be difficult. But I can tell she makes you happy.— Her warm smile made Lando feel at ease.

—She does, Mum. She’s brilliant. And she’s been amazing through everything.— He ran a hand through his hair, thinking about how Amelie had been by his side despite their demanding schedules.

—Well, now I really want to meet her again, properly this time.— Cisca’s grin widened. —You have to bring her here for Christmas Eve. We need to welcome her properly to the family.—

Lando hesitated. The idea of Amelie spending Christmas with his family made his heart race, but he wasn’t sure if it was too soon. They were still figuring things out, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

—You sure about that?— he asked, raising an eyebrow. —It’s not like she’s a stranger to you lot, but this would be… different.—

—Different how?— Flo interjected, leaning forward with a dramatic flair. —She’s Amelie. Mum loves her. Cis and I are basically her biggest fans. And Dad? He’ll just be thrilled you brought someone home.—

—Exactly.— Cisca grinned. —If anything, we’ll embarrass you more than her.—

—Brilliant. That’s exactly what I’m worried about.— Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face.

His mum’s expression softened as she squeezed his knee again.

—If you think it’s too soon, love, that’s fine. But from what you’ve told us, she sounds like someone who fits right in.—

Lando nodded, appreciating her reassurance.

—Alright, I’ll ask her. No promises, though.— He pointed at his sisters. —And if she says yes, no fangirling. I mean it.—

—No guarantees.— Flo smirked, clearly already planning her questions for Amelie.

—God help me.— Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands.

—So, this Amelie...— Adam began, his tone casual but his eyes curious. —She’s the actress your sisters have been fawning over since God knows when?—

Lando groaned, tossing a pillow over his face.

—Don’t start, Dad.—

—Oh, come on!— Adam chuckled. —It’s not every day my son dates someone famous. Besides, I’m just trying to keep up. I feel like the entire family’s already planned the wedding, and I haven’t even met the girl properly.—

Lando peeked out from under the pillow, his cheeks tinged pink.

—We’ve only been dating for a month. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.—

—A month this time,— Flo teased from her spot on the floor, where she was untangling Christmas lights. —But technically, you’ve been in love with her for years.—

—Flo!— Lando sat up, glaring at her. —I’m not “in love,” alright? We’re taking things slow.—

—Sure, sure,— Cisca said, smirking as she sipped her hot chocolate. —Taking it slow with someone you’ve already had a thing with. Totally believable.—

Lando groaned again, but his mum came to his rescue, walking in from the kitchen with a tray of biscuits.

—Alright, leave your brother alone.— She placed the tray on the coffee table and took a seat beside Lando. —It’s sweet that he wants to take his time. Amelie’s probably just as busy as he is. Right, love?—

—Exactly.— Lando nodded, grateful for her understanding. —We’re both trying to make it work without rushing into anything.—

—That’s very mature of you,— His mum said with a warm smile, handing him a biscuit. —But if she does come for Christmas Eve, just know she’ll be treated like family. You’ve picked a good one, Lando.—

—Thanks, Mum.— He couldn’t help but smile at her encouragement.

His sisters, however, weren’t about to let the conversation end on such a wholesome note.

—If she does come, can we ask her about Little Women?— Flo asked, eyes lighting up. —And The White Lotus! Oh my God, she was incredible in that. I still can’t believe you’re dating her!—

—She’ll think you’re insane,— Lando muttered, shaking his head.

—No, she won’t!— Cisca defended. —Amelie seems really down-to-earth in interviews. She probably wouldn’t mind us geeking out a bit.—

—A bit? You two are incapable of “a bit.” She’ll think she walked into a fan convention.—

The room erupted in laughter, and Lando couldn’t help but join in. Despite the teasing, he loved how genuinely excited his family was about Amelie.

As the evening went on, the house filled with the sounds of Christmas music and chatter. Lando helped his dad string up the Christmas lights outside, while his mum and sisters prepared dinner. It was a rare moment of calm in his busy life, and he found himself thinking about Amelie more and more.

Later, as he settled into bed in his childhood room, he pulled out his phone and opened their chat. He couldn’t resist sending her a quick message.

Lan🧡: Mum and my sisters have decided you’re coming to Christmas Eve. Apparently, it’s not optional. Hope you’re okay with being interrogated. 😂

He didn’t expect a reply right away, but his phone buzzed almost immediately.

Ames💛: Interrogated by your sisters? Sounds terrifying. But your mum? She’s a sweetheart. I’d love to come.

Lando smiled as he read Amelie's message. His heart swelled a little at the thought of her spending Christmas with his family, but at the same time, he was a little anxious. He knew how excited they all were, but he wasn’t sure if she’d feel overwhelmed. She had her own family, after all, and this was all moving a lot faster than either of them had probably expected.

Lan🧡: Well, you’ve been warned. I’ll tell them you’re down. Just... be ready for a lot of questions about Little Women, The White Lotus, and... everything else.

Ames💛: Oh god. I’m going to get roasted, aren’t I?

Lan🧡: Probably. But I’ll protect you. 🤞

Ames💛: You better. But seriously, I’m looking forward to it. Your mum’s always been lovely to me.

Lan🧡: Yeah, she’s excited to see you again. I’m pretty sure she’s already planning how to bribe you with food.

Ames💛: I mean, I’m not going to say no to that. 😂

Lan🧡: Alright, it’s a deal then. See you tomorrow?

Ames💛: Can’t wait. See you tomorrow. 💛

Lando put his phone down and exhaled deeply, feeling both excited and a little nervous. He had never been in this kind of situation before, balancing a relationship with someone like Amelie. It wasn’t just about them anymore; his family was already making plans, and it felt like everything was moving so quickly.

But at the same time, it felt right. He had known Amelie for years, and despite everything that had happened between them in the past, they were still figuring things out. He was ready for it.

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 10: The Art of Potion Making

!!! An important poll regarding the upload schedule for this series can be found here. !!!

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4.5k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Potion making is easy, but command over the dark arts is a skill derived from centuries of experience.

Two days came and went of unpacking as much as you could before going to your work and delving into books, notes, experiments, and taking care of patients. In the chaos of everything, there was no time for you to sit down and relax. You woke, ate quickly, unpacked as much as you could before Amara and Liriel came to get you ready for the day, and went about your duties in the healing facilities. 

In that time, not much progress was made in your research or Daeron’s. The two of you had hit a wall, which seemed impossible to overcome. It became a topic of tension between you two. Each knew that it was not the other's fault and did not blame them, but the feeling of hopelessness began to wear down on you two. 

You were finally granted a moment of reprieve. 

The cool breeze of the morning chill flowed through your open windows. Scents of blooming plants filled the space as you broke your fast. You had spent the morning reading the last filled-in pages of your father's journal. It may not have been the best decision, as you struggled to maintain your composure at parts. He would write about his days however a large focus was on you. He went on of how proud he was of you and of the young lady you were becoming. His written words gave you both a sense of comfort and a deep sharp pain in your chest. 

Your hand turned to the last entry and you took in the date. It was the day before he left on a trip, the one he vanished on. You sucked in a breath and looked outside, tears brimming your eyes. While your father’s disappearance was devastating, you managed to get used to the pain over the years. Reading his journal seemed to open those cuts you long thought were healed. 

Your eyes scanned the delicate ink stains of his writing. His writing had always been a topic of jealousy for you, for it was always neat. He spoke of his upcoming journey. While he originally told you he was heading north, his writing revealed it was not the case. Your brows furrowed as you scanned the writing, certain excerpts reaching out to you.

The southern lake of Rosemagne… is the topic of contention among my fellow researchers because of the… I believe it is a good place to gather samples to…

You scanned the words with a rushed fervour. You did not recognize the lake's name and found yourself leaving the table and moving toward your bookshelf. The chair scraped against the floor. Once you grabbed the book you were looking for, you dashed back and sat down. You flipped to a map of the known lands and scanned the various bodies of water. Your finger dragged across the parchment as you scanned, but you could not find it in your kingdom. A tiny feeling settled in your stomach; a queasy sickness that churned the food you had eaten. 

“Please tell me you were not so foolish…” Your voice barely came out, a whisper so imperceptible even you did not know if you actually spoke it. 

You began to go over the known lands of the elf kingdom. Far larger than your own, you spent longer scanning the land. To your horror, but also correct assumption, the image of Lake Rosemagne sat just under your fingertip. 

Oh, gods…

Your father entered elf territory without permission. His disappearance could only mean a single thing; he was caught and properly dealt with. The cup on your table was hurled at the wall quickly and you began to lose control of your breathing, chest heaving with sobs that threatened to spill. This whole time you held to the belief he was still out there. 

Your mind conjured up scenarios where he decided to stay in a place he thought promising to his research. While naive, it was how you coped. There was no way you wished to admit the truth that had been clawing down your throat for years. The thought of him dead, of you being parentless and thus alone and without grounding in this world, was not an option for you. 

Your suspicion then turned to Aemond. Surely, he would have known about your father. As king, he would have been notified of any trespassers. There was the very possibility that he may have executed your father himself. 

No. 

Your brain refused to admit it. He would have told you or perhaps Helaena may have known. You shook your head at that, if Helaena knew she would have informed you immediately after piecing it together. She would never hide a thing like that from you, but Aemond… 

Was Aemond’s agreement to Helaena’s proposal of you coming here nothing but a way to lure you in? To finish the job and get rid of all possible people who would have known?

The two of you had just begun to bridge the cavern that separated one another. Assumptions would get you nowhere. Whether or not he had a hand in your father's likely death, this had to be handled with care. There was no proof he had done what your brain jumped to and you would not condemn him until there was evidence. You would play the field as necessary. Not reveal that you know and pretend to be unaware of it all. 

The room felt stifling. The walls closed in on you and you needed to get out. You composed yourself and splashed water on your face from the wash basin to get rid of the redness on your skin. You placed your father’s journal under the pillows on your bed to hide it. While not a good spot, you were in no headspace to think of someplace better. 

All you cared about was leaving the suffocating room.

The door to the library by your laboratory was a welcoming sight. You believed it was time to shuffle through the shelves again in hopes that you could find something new for your research. A title you may have brushed off in previous visits could stand out and be worth the read. 

You pushed open the wood and are greeted with a sight you wished to avoid. Aemond stood beside one of the tables, casually flipping through the pages of a book that had been likely left behind by some visitor. He looked bored as if he had been waiting for something. Alerted by your presence, he turned his head to see you. 

“Good morrow, your grace.” You bowed respectfully, but truthfully you wished to run as fast and far as you could. Images of your father flashed across your vision when looking at the king. The speculation of your father’s death conjured up just moments ago pressed down on your chest. 

Aemond spoke your name. It was incredible how shamefully you relished in the way it rolled off his tongue. While you stated that you did not hate him, you also did not like him. At the very least, you had begun to think of him positively, but with your discovery that trust was thrown away. 

“I was informed of your curiousness regarding dark magic,” Aemond continued. You got nervous as such information could likely have you in dire straits. He picked up another book that was on the table and walked over to you, “This was something I read a few centuries ago. I completely forgot about it until I was browsing my shelves and thought you would need it.” 

The way in which he casually threw out that he had read it a few centuries ago came across like a person reminiscing on an event from just a month or two ago. Your heart quickened at the notion that, while he was browsing his personal collection, he stumbled across a book and thought of you. It was a dangerous mode of thinking for you, to go down such a speculative path. 

Aemond held out the book and you went to grab it. The tips of your fingers brushed against his and a flurry of heat coursed up through your arm. You almost reflexively dropped the book by the shock you felt. 

“Thank you,” You responded once it was in your arms. You held it to your chest, like some kind of shield between you two. 

“I was thinking that I could also peruse the shelves here with you. I can translate the ones in other languages.” It was yet another olive branch extended from him, except this time you did not want to meet it. The thought of your whole presence being here as a trap set by him threw you off. 

The most dangerous creatures are often beautiful. 

You had not remembered where exactly such a phrase was ingrained into you. You had heard it from someone, but their words rang true. It was best for you to put up a wall before it was too late. There was nothing wrong with you and Aemond’s relationship just a few short days ago – barely acknowledging one another. 

“I do not need any help, your grace,” You interjected, “Daeron has translators if I need them.” 

It may have been a trick of the light or perhaps a misinterpreted thought, but you could have sword a gleam of disappointment flashed across Aemond’s eye. He shuffled almost awkwardly on his feet and moved his hands to be clasped behind him. 

He gave you a curt nod, “I shall leave you to it, then.” He moved past you to leave and his scent lingered. Burning wood and parchment undercut by a medley of spices. It was entirely too intoxicating.

The familiar sight of Lyra lying in her bed greeted you as you walked into the sick hall. She had been fiddling with a doll in her lap, stuck in the childlike wonder of imagination. As you approached, she spotted you and a smile made its way on her face. 

Lyra spoke your name, “You’re here!” 

“I’m here. And how have you been, sweet girl?” You sat on the edge of the bed and made a trained scan of her body, checking the progression of the taint as the purple-black darkness spread on her skin. 

“I am fine, other than the fact that I wish to know what is going on outside this hall,” Lyra answered. It was no surprise she wanted to leave. Most patients expressed the same sentiment. Their bedbound lifestyle was suffocating. While they were not contagious, their frail conditions would make any instance of walking painful and could worsen their condition. 

“I’m sorry, but you know you cannot leave this bed.” You reasoned. 

Lyra nodded and held out the doll. It was small - only slightly bigger than your hand and sizeable enough to fit in a pocket. The doll shared a remarkable resemblance to Lyra. Gold embroidery string replicated her hair and a small sewn outfit adorned the doll. 

“Could you take Lady with you? It does not matter what adventure she goes on, I just want her to see outside this hall.” Lyra asked you. Your hands reached out to take the doll and made sure to handle it with extra care. 

“I will take her on many adventures.” You promised. While you gave her a wide smile, your inner self was in turmoil. It ached at the sadness of her situation, something that many others were suffering through. You looked around the room and saw Daeron walking in from one of the balconies. 

You leaned over to tuck Lyra in, “I have something I need to discuss with Daeron. Get some rest, sweet girl.” Lyra nodded at your words and closed her eyes to go to sleep. You tucked the doll gently in one of your dress pockets and got up to stop Daeron as he moved down the centre aisle. 

Daeron greeted you before his face went still, “How serious is it?” 

“Pardon?” You responded. 

“You get this look on your face when you are going to talk about something serious.” Daeron raised one eyebrow, “Am I correct?” 

You grabbed his arm and started to pull him in the direction of the laboratory. You proposed many days ago the option of using dark magic against the taint off of the basis of your poison hypothesis. He promised he would think about it and you gave him space to do so, but now you were more anxious than ever for a response. However, you could not bring it up in a space full of other witnesses. 

Once in the safety of the laboratory, you moved to the book you had used for this discovery and pulled out the mortua terra flower samples as well. You had already gathered all of the other ingredients that made up your old formula – the one with the most success. 

Daeron looked back and forth between you and the table, “And this is?” 

“My proposal,” You told him, “I gathered the flowers in this book. I am ready, but are you?” 

He kept his gaze on the jar of flowers in front of him and rested his hands on his waist, “Dark magic is something that marks your soul. I cannot, with consciousness, allow you to do this alone.” 

You moved your mouth to speak, but Daeron held his hand out to stop you, “You do not need to pretend you wouldn’t have gone and done it yourself regardless of my decision.” There was something almost comical in the way he could easily read you and you wondered if the other elves could do that as well.

Daeron went about organizing the ingredients and prepping everything to work. You followed in his steps, cutting and juicing the ingredients while he spoke, “There are things such as light and dark plants. They are incompatible in mixtures together, but each serves well on their own. Light plants are easy to manipulate. Those flowers you collected are dark, so working with them requires extra preparation steps.” 

“And I am guessing those steps are difficult,” You interjected. Daeron picked up a single mortua terra flower and inspected it. 

“Yes,” He answered, “We need blood to leech out its magical properties.” 

You paused your movements and the metal stirrer halted but the liquid inside the pot continued to swirl, “Blood?”

“The blood is just a grounding force.” He lit a small fire under two potting zones and poured the liquid from your pot into them. “I am curious to see the difference between human blood and elf blood.” 

“But if we just need blood to activate it, what makes it dark magic?” You questioned him. Daeron turned and dragged two comfy chairs across the stone floor to be placed near the table. He adjusted the pillows. 

“The blood is a connection to you and your soul. The more potent it is, the more energy it takes from you. That is the risk with dark magic, it sucks your energy and your soul the more you do it. However, the more you do it, you eventually cannot stop. It becomes addicting.” Daeron then unsheathed a dagger that was strapped to his waist. The metal glimmered in the candlelight. 

He picked up one of the flowers and dropped it into one of the pots. Once it sank into the simmering mixture, he held his hand out and slowly cut a line on his palm. Beads of blood pooled to the surface and dripped into the pot. His brows furrowed as he winced. Daeron cleaned the blade in a washpot that was on the table. He then held it out to you.

“Your skin must make contact with the flower. Drop it in, wait a few seconds, and then cut.” You took the blade from him and a small wave of reluctance came over you. This is what you wanted, but it was still terrifying. 

You followed the steps carefully. Afterwards, Daeron gestured to the chairs, “Sit down. The longer it brews, the more energy will be drained. We will be here all night.” 

The two of you sat in the chairs that were placed next to one another and listened to the bubbling of the liquid. Silence enveloped the two of you. As predicted, drowsiness settled over you. It was not intense, but began to creep up on you. Daeron did not look as affected and you assumed that largely had to do with your races; elves were stronger than humans.

To occupy yourself, you decided to speak, “Why is your brother the way he is?” 

“I do not even know where to begin with Aegon. He-” 

“Not Aegon,” You interrupted, “King Aemond. Why is he…” You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. One moment, Aemond is holding a sword to your throat and the next he is offering you a book and help. It was incredibly dizzying. It made you feel mad. Aemond’s attitude threw you off, but the shreds of kindness that extended your way erupted a flurry in your stomach and burning in your veins.

Daeron sighed, “He is guarded. Some of the things he has gone through made him-”

“Cruel?” You finished his sentence.

He shook his head in denial and adjusted his posture in the chair, “As I said before, everything my brother did was to protect his people.” 

You waited a few moments before responding, “I’ve met your family, all of you are incredibly kind. I’ve heard the stories of what he did during the Great War. Why is he so different?” 

“Most of the stories about him you humans tell are exaggerated.” Daeron stretched his legs out, some drowsiness already starting to come over him.

“So he does not drink the blood of his enemies?” You asked. 

“No.” Was Daeron’s quick response. 

You decided to go through all of the stories you could remember, “Hangs men up by their balls? Feeds dead children to their parents? Leaves field of impaled men as a warning?”

“No.” 

“He doesn’t set fields and towns on fire? Raid strongholds that had already surrendered, killing all the men inside?” Your tone moved to a more teasing manner. 

Instead of answering, Daeron got quiet. His silence was a confirmation and you sunk further into your chair. You could, if you tried hard enough, picture it in your head. Aemond, standing in a blazing field, bodies littered around, and the screams of humans being all that could be heard. You cringed at that and felt an overpowering feeling of guilt for ever allowing yourself to be entranced by him. 

In your state of exhaustion, you leaned your head on Daeron’s shoulder. He rested his cheek against the top of your head and the two of you stared at the brewing pots. There was one last question that burned at you, one you had asked Aemond but received no response. 

“What does rūklon mean?” Your pronunciation had not gotten better, but the point was still made. 

You could feel Daeron adjust his head slightly, “Why?” 

“I just…” You paused and wondered if you should tell him that Aemond referred to you by that word to Helaena, but decided against it for fear it might be bad, “I heard it in passing and wondered.”

“Well, it could refer to a blooming plant, but more often it just means flower,” Daeron answered. Helaena’s voice – mimicking Aemond’s words – echoed through your head.

That stupid little rūklon risking her life… 

Little flower…

Was it a connection to the fact that you wore the azure perfume that reminded him of his childhood? That may have charged extra anger towards you. You highly doubted, out of all possible reasons behind it, that Aemond meant it as some kind of nickname. Daeron’s confirmation of Aemond’s cruelty just moments ago came back to you. 

Some weird part of you felt the need to justify his actions. They were at war and he was their king. He had pressure over his shoulders like no other to keep his people safe. Aemond had to make decisions, hard ones, for the continuation of his kingdom. Quickly after that thought came more guilt. You felt cruel yourself for trying to find a likely reason behind his actions – to somehow justify the wholesale slaughter of your own kind. 

Perhaps, if you were lucky one day, you could hear Aemond’s side. 

Daeron was the one to break the silence instead of you, “I love my siblings, I truly do. Helaena is my closest friend and I am grateful to have her as a sister. But… I’ve always wanted a little sister. I know it hasn’t been a while since we’ve met, but I think of you as one.” 

You did not know if he was just sharing this with you because he wanted to or if the gradual exhaustion had something to do with his confession. Regardless of the reasoning, his thoughts matched something you had always had. 

“I’ve always wanted an older brother.” It was a simple response, but gave Daeron the comforting answer he wanted. He went back to resting his head against yours. In your shared state of comfort, the both of you eased into a dreamless sleep.

You were caught in that haze of sleep and awake. There were no dreams, just an abyss of darkness that wrapped you in warmth. In the distance, a part of your consciousness was creeping forward. It spun into action upon hearing your name being whispered. You felt a light press on your shoulder and came to. Your eyes opened to see Daeron crouched in front of you. He shook your shoulder with care. 

Your energy had been regained and you saw the table with the brewing pots to be on a low simmer. It likely had burned through the energy needed and made it so you and Daeron could wake. It was only when you adjusted in your seat that you saw Aemond standing next to the table and watching you with his arms crossed. 

“Your grace,” You shot out of the chair, but in doing so made your head spin. You would have tumbled if Daeron did not catch you. One of his hands gripped your right forearm and the other wrapped around your waist with care. You blushed deeply with embarrassment as the flush moved across your cheeks and down your chest. 

Aemond observed with a careful eye. You could see his one eye drift down to where Daeron’s arms held you and he pursed his lips. He had likely seen you and Daeron asleep together and wondered what was going on. 

“Burning a candle at both ends?” Aemond spoke. It was a weird question coming from him; to tease you about working late. Daeron released you and walked to the table where his brother was. 

Daeron gestured to the two simmering pots, “We are starting a new experiment that may likely be promising.” Aemond peered over to look into the pots and hummed. You approached warily and moved to the other side of the table to create distance between you and the two elves. 

“They should be ready for testing on samples, your grace.” You spoke. Aemond continued to look at the mixture brewing. 

“The flowers she brought back was a stroke of genius,” Daeron praised. 

Aemond then looked up at you, his expression unreadable, “The same ones collected from the forest?” His tone bordered on scolding. Any words you could think of got caught in your throat and you nodded. 

Daeron sensed a bit of tension and clapped his hands together once, “Well, you should tell him about your hypothesis,” You sent him a look of challenge and he reciprocated with a nervous smile. You did not know why Aemond was being combative. While he was quick to attitude, there was something that must have soured his mood. 

You cleared your throat, “Well, some poisons can be used to counteract others. I thought the same could be done to the taint but it only worked temporarily. I thought, perhaps, the taint was not poison but some kind of dark magic. That is why we needed those flowers,” 

Aemond opened his crossed arms and clasped his hands behind his back, “Smart.” That seemed to ease the king's annoyance and you were able to breathe. 

“I must get going to tend to patients,” Daeron announced. He addressed you and spoke, “Keep watch on the brew.” The prince said his goodbyes and left. You wanted to reach out and tug at the collar of his shirt, drag him from the door, and place him right next to the table. There was an overwhelming urge to curse him out that overcame you. He left you alone with Aemond, knowingly and seemingly acted as though it was funny.

You decided to distract yourself from the tension and moved to start organizing ingredients and other items on the table. The piercing gaze of Aemond’s eye fell like lead on your skin. 

“The two of you have gotten close,” Aemond uttered. You continued with your task, though you could still see him in the corner of your vision. The table between you two did not feel like enough room, yet at the same time, a part of you wished it was not there. 

“Well, the prince has been incredibly helpful in teaching me-”

“I would advise against engaging in anything further.” He interrupted, “You best understand that elves and humans do not mix.” 

Your brows furrowed and you ceased your movements. His words took a few thrumming beats of your heart to register. Aemond’s insinuation finally hit you. He believed, upon seeing you and Daeron asleep against one another, that feelings were beginning to bloom. You understood why he was suddenly so sour. 

You were a human and the slightest notion of you so much as coupling with an elf must have been what angered him. He expressed his reservations about you being less because of your race in the past. It had angered him even further that he thought you were not just trying to go after an elf, but a member of the royal family no less. He barely thought you were good enough to consider a friend.

“Oh, no-” You tried to interject and clarify, but Aemond interrupted again. 

“Best get back to work.” He gave you an uncomfortable smile as if hiding a tinge of pain and quickly exited the room. You were left alone in the laboratory. The bubbling of the pots became a background noise as the thrumming of your heart took over. You did not know why it was beating so quickly. At no point in that exchange did you feel scared or hunted, yet your heartbeat betrayed you. A heat had returned to your face and you shook your heat in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You moved to stir the two pots all while trying to ease the unknown feelings budding in your chest.

Chapter 11: A New Ally Preview

His eyes narrowed and you could tell his temper had flared. He then stood chest to chest with you and raised his arm. You stood with your shoulders straight, willing to take whatever he threw at you. Cole would not have you act out in violence towards him. Despite having made incredible progress here, your record was not entirely clean since your run into the woods. If you chose to attack an elf – especially a council member – no amount of advocacy on Helaena’s, Daeron’s or even Aegon’s account would save you from harsh punishment. 

As Cole narrowed in to strike you, a voice interrupted, “I hope I am gravely mistaken for what I am witnessing.”

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[m4rv3l-girl]

A Confession

Bucky x Y/N

An awkward encounter leads to some exposed feelings…

Requests Open!

Warnings: None. Some fluff

The evening air was crisp and cool as you returned from your jog with Bucky, breath visible in little puffs as you exchanged laughs and easy conversation.

You'd fallen into this comfortable rhythm over the past few months. What started as two friends going on runs together had quickly become one of your favorite parts of the day, a time where it was just you and him, away from the chaos and noise of everything else.

He grinned as he held the door for you, his cheeks tinged slightly pink from the cold, that subtle warmth of his smile lingering as you headed into his apartment to grab a towel.

“Thanks, Buck,” you murmured, giving him a grateful nod.

“Anytime. I’ll be right here, just getting my water, let me know if you need anything, Doll ” he replied, that gentle glimmer in his blue eyes making your heart flutter, though you quickly pushed the thought aside.

Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, relishing the quiet.

Bucky had let you borrow his bathroom while your apartment was getting some long-overdue repairs done, and the routine had somehow settled into something comfortable. The cold morning left a chill on your skin that only a hot shower could fix, so you slipped into the bathroom, set the water to just the right temperature, and stepped under the stream.

With your eyes closed, you let the warmth soak into your skin, humming a quiet tune as you started to unwind.

In that moment, the world seemed to melt away, just the sound of water and your own soft humming filling the room.

Meanwhile, Bucky had downed his water bottle, already looking forward to the breakfast you usually cooked together after your run. He moved toward the bathroom to ask if you’d wanted him to start on coffee, but as he got closer, he noticed the faint sound of water running and stopped, remembering you were in there. Normally, he would’ve just waited—but there was something about that humming. He paused, catching himself leaning in just a bit closer than he probably should have.

Without thinking, he lightly tapped the handle, the door opening a few inches before he could stop himself.

The scene caught him entirely off guard. There you were, the mist swirling around, head tilted back under the stream. The blurred outline of your body arched under the water was almost ethereal. The moment felt like something from a daydream he hadn’t realized he’d been having, and every instinct told him to look away, to back out silently. But for one suspended heartbeat, he didn’t. He felt his shorts tighten at the mere sight.

And then you turned around.

"Bucky?” Your voice snapped him out of it instantly.

His face flushed a deep, instant red, and he yanked himself back into the hallway, letting out a mortified laugh. “Oh my God, I am so sorry, Doll—I didn’t mean to… I just… uh…”

The door clicked shut, leaving you with wide eyes, an embarrassed chuckle escaping your lips.

Later, the moment replayed between you both as you cooked dinner together.

The silence that usually sat so comfortably between you was now charged, heavy with an unspoken tension neither of you could ignore.

Bucky, nervous but unwilling to show it, tried to bring it up casually. “About earlier—I swear, I wasn’t trying to, y’know, walk in or anything. Just wanted to check if you wanted coffee,” he said, his eyes flickering to yours before quickly turning back to the stove.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension melting a little. “It’s okay, Buck. It was… an accident,” you murmured, though even as you said it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. His gaze lingered a little too long, his cheeks a little too flushed.

The days that followed felt strangely electric, like you were each waiting for the other to say something that was always left unsaid. The stolen glances, the little laughs, the familiar touches—all took on a new weight.

One night, after a particularly long day, the two of you ended up sprawled on his couch, feet propped up on the coffee table as you laughed over some random show.

Somewhere between jokes and casual conversation, you realized Bucky was watching you, his gaze soft and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re staring,” you teased, giving him a light nudge.

He didn’t break eye contact, didn’t laugh it off like you’d expected. Instead, he took a breath, voice quiet but firm. “I know, Kitten. I think… I think I’ve been staring for a long time.”

The sudden intensity in his voice caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat as you looked back at him. “Bucky…”

“Let me get this out,” he said quickly, as if afraid you might brush it off. “You’re… you’re more than just a friend to me, Doll. I’ve been pretending that it’s fine, that I could just be around you every day without it meaning something more, but I…” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to be more than just the guy you go jogging with, or the guy who cooks you breakfast, or who’s there just to laugh with. I want… I want all of it, with you.”

The room felt still, his confession hanging in the air like a secret finally set free.

You swallowed, heart racing as you looked into his eyes. “Bucky, I… I’ve been wanting the same thing. But I didn’t know… I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

He let out a soft chuckle, reaching out to take your hand, fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt as natural as breathing. “Doll, you couldn’t ruin it if you tried,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “You’re my best girl. I’ve known it for a while now. Just didn’t know how to say it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, letting the weight of those words settle between you. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft and tentative, yet filled with everything that had been building up for so long. The world faded away, leaving just the warmth of his hand on your cheek, the taste of his lips on yours, and the gentle strength of his arms pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless and grinning, he brushed a stray hair from your face, his smile warm and easy. “Guess that means no more awkward bathroom encounters?”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst way to start a morning…”

“Then let’s start tomorrow morning together,” he murmured with a mischievous smirk, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft. “And every morning after, if you’ll let me.”

……..…………………………………………………….……………………………………………..

Welcome to my imagination. Hope you liked it!

[hazyange1s]

i’ll give you the stars (ominis gaunt x f!mc)

summary: mc (diana) goes home for a quiet christmas to escape the chaos of her sixth year. ominis, still estranged from his family, has come to spend the holiday with her — and brings a gift in the hopes of lifting her spirits and showing her a bit of light in the darkness.

tags: fluff, ambiguous relationship but they obviously are disgustingly in love, suggestive themes while still keeping it “chaste” a la the struggle of Victorian expectations, excessive prose, smooching, Christmas Eve magic, sweet gentleman ominis, cheesy nicknames, lots of astronomy references

word count: 2.7k

a/n: I wrote this over a year ago. like, wow. but I don’t talk about these two enough so here we are, unearthing a relic 😭 this is set during incendiary (so, um, very mild spoilers ig since we haven’t gotten to christmas yet there) and has some references, but it can be read alone 🖤

The crackling fire filling the marble hearth casted shadows onto the floral papered walls, outlining Diana's petite frame as she slid a gauzy nightgown over her head before fixing the dark hairs misplaced by its skirt. Sighing with relief, she sank onto the plush mattress of her four-poster bed at last.

It had been a long day — but it brought the kind of fatigue that came from a day well spent, its leisurely passage of time due not to monotony or stress, but a chest full to bursting with warmth and affection for the people she’d spent it with.

The hours of ice skating, cooking, and telling stories by the fire before finishing the last wrappings on everyone's gifts ensured she was more than ready to be welcomed into the comforting embrace of sleep. Christmas would come in the morning, and with it her Aunt Celeste’s annual Yuletide Feast. She’d need a good night’s rest if she was to properly prepare herself to navigate the whispers and expectations of Celeste’s pontifical friends (who were even more unbearable after several glasses of elderflower wine).

Diana began twirling a lock of inky black hair around a slim finger, gazing absentmindedly out the snow-frosted windows as the day's events replayed in her head:

The way the sunrise this morning (a sight she'd usually ache to paint) was dim compared to the brightness of her best friend's smile; a rare treat as of late. How good the Earl Grey tasted in her mother’s old china, somehow much better than what they served at Hogwarts. And, of course, the many, many times a chill had skittered down her spine any time Ominis brushed her hand 'accidentally' or touched her lower back whenever he walked by.

All of it so wonderful, so familiar, so...maddening in its mundane joy.

Merlin, but my hair has seen better days. Diana sighed, now employing both hands to untangle a stubborn knot that wouldn’t budge, forcing her to drag herself out of bed with a groan and plop down at the vanity by the window. The tug of the brush through the nest atop her scalp elicited a nose-scrunching wince.

It was at that moment that a knock jolted Diana from her reverie, ringing out in the quiet room where only the fireplace crackled. Who would possibly need her at this hour?

It had to be important. Perhaps even urgent.

This was precisely the thought that catalyzed her movement from the mirror to the door, abandoning her hairbrush in favor of snatching up her wand to light the darkened hallway as she flung the door open.

“What? What is it?”

Her visitor appeared just as alarmed by the unceremonious greeting. Ominis jumped at the sudden gust of air, shifting his weight and exhaling forcefully when he’d settled.

"Er..." he began, clearly expecting to have this initially go a bit differently. A hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck, head dipping towards the ground. "Apologies, I didn't intend to intrude."

"Ominis,” Diana breathed. Her immediate reaction to cover her scantily clad form was abandoned the moment she realized it was unnecessary. "No, um, you aren't intruding. I wasn't doing anything important."

It began to feel like every word she said around the man came out sounding entirely idiotic. Truly, it was a mercy Ominis's eyes were not privy to the blush staining her pale cheeks.

Despite it, the corner of Ominis's lips tugged up into a soft, genuine smile. "Not sleeping, I take it? Have you been up painting again?"

Sometimes it shocked Diana to realize how well he had come to know her in just a year of friendship. Everything from the basics such as her birthday and middle name to the most unscrupulous of quirks and habits seemed to be engrained in his mind — not to mention some of her deepest secrets, as well.

"Well, I was about to, but I suspect I'd have had a hard time falling asleep, anyway." Diana lamented with a shrug.

"May I come in?"

Ignoring the way her heart did a little skip, she stepped aside, letting him hear the creak of the door as she held it open. Ominis’s wand hung limply at side, pulsing a vibrant red as it guided him through the doorway and into the spacious warmth of her bedroom. He stopped in the center before deciding to take up residence in a seat by the hearth.

Diana extinguished her own wand after the light from his faded into nothing, leaving only the glow of the fire and a few stray candles to illuminate the tight angle of his jaw, the thin press of his mouth. Ominis started to fiddle with the sleeves of his loose white button-down when she took the seat across from him.

"Is something the matter?" Diana asked.

"No, no. Nothing’s wrong." Ominis replied in one breath. She didn't miss the way his silvery eyes softened at her obvious distress (a state he knew all too well). “I wanted to give you something...well, that is to say...I'd like to give you your Christmas present early, if that's alright."

Of course it was alright, but Diana had to wonder why it had to be now — when the clock in the corner had struck midnight minutes ago, and Sebastian had made them swear to wait until morning before opening any without him.

"Is it time-sensitive? Don't tell me it's a kitten; I've enough animals to care for as it is,” Diana laughed, eying one of said beloved creatures that was curled up on the bed. Saoirse’s whiskers gleamed in the moonlight spilling over the gray cat's sleeping form.

"Not exactly."

She could have sworn Ominis's cheeks were red now, too. But perhaps that was simply due to the flames. "I had just hoped to gift it to you in a more private setting."

Diana didn't think he meant anything untoward by his statement, but it made her breath stall anyway. She had been trying not to think about the logistics of their current circumstances as it was, and then he had to go and say something like that. It was a small conciliation being able to let her wandering eyes sweep over his angular shoulders, down the arms corded with veins to his slender piano player's fingers while she mused if only those fingers could play across her body the same way.

The vulgar tirade of her fantasies was abruptly halted by Ominis's cleared throat. She couldn't tell if it had been meant to puncture the silence that had settled between them in the midst of her stupor, or if it was to steady himself.

Refocusing her gaze, Diana watched him reach into a pocket to produce a square box lined with velvet in the deepest obsidian that let her imagination run rampant, despite her logical mind telling her it definitely was not what she initially assumed. The box was far too large, and his expression all too casual as Ominis reached out to hand it to her.

His little smile told her he knew exactly what she had been thinking. "I hope it isn't too much. Or too little. You don't need to accept it if you don't —“

"Oh, hush,” Diana chastised him affectionately. "I'm flattered you even thought of me, especially since…well, I know you’re still cut off. You shouldn’t have spent money on me.”

"Of course I thought of you. You're worth every effort, every galleon and then some." Ominis said with a shake of his head.

Money was no object to most members of the Gaunt family. Even after he'd publicly disowned the lot of them — save for his older sister Cordelia — part of his inheritance would be granted to him regardless the moment he turned seventeen in January. But for now, the only money Ominis possessed was whatever he had left in his Gringotts vault.

His fingers brushed hers, tentatively, seeking the center of her palm where he placed the box.

The air around them seemed to still. Everything else became background noise to the soft sounds of their breathing and his soft, “Go on,” as she forced herself to tear her eyes away from a smiling Ominis in order to lift the lid on the box.

Her sharp inhale pierced the blanket of quiet. Heart fluttering like a caged bird that had caught a glimpse of the open sky, Diana reverently lifted a silver necklace from the plush bed of silk it rested on. Its chain sparkled in the dim light, along with the deep cobalt stone in the center, cut into a flawless oval and set in the same pale metal. A closer look allowed her to notice the starburst veining through the ebony-flecked gem.

"Ominis..." her voice betrayed every ounce of her amazement as she slid a thumb over the stone's center. "It's — I don't think 'beautiful' even begins to cover it."

Diana's eyes flitted back up to his. He was leaning towards her in his chair, elbows resting on thighs and keeping one of her hands clasped between them. The distance was small enough that she could see the lines of near-white in his icy irises. They reminded her much of the webbing in the crystal, yet somehow infinitely more captivating than any jewel or constellation.

"I suppose that means you like it?" Ominis glowed.

"Like it?" Diana scoffed, unable to contain the bubbling gratitude and affection that filled her to the brim. Every word she summoned to her tongue seemed to fall short, all of them abandoned before they left her lips, so it was decided there’d be only one proper way to show her appreciation.

The already marginal space between them disappeared completely as the Ravenclaw flung her arms around his neck, enthusiastically pulling her startled Slytherin into a hasty kiss.

Ominis's gasp of surprise stole the breath from her own lungs, sending her into a free fall that hopefully ended with him catching her. There was the briefest second that her friend hesitated and she thought she would die of embarrassment.

Their first couple of kisses — too few and far between, in her opinion, but she was patient — had been different than this. More layers between them, for one, and more time to consider her moves carefully.

Mercifully, Ominis did not pull away. On the contrary; after the initial shock wore off his arms came up to cup her cheeks gently, fingers sliding through her loose hair as he returned the gesture with just as much fervor and meaning. Diana instantly became pliant beneath his touch. He still tasted of cinnamon and currant from the wine they’d all shared earlier…

Yet it wasn't the evening's indulgence that had her feeling a bit dizzy, it was the pillowy softness of Ominis's lips combined with his startling heat and devotion.

Though he was sharp-tongued enough to get by with a few clever words, he hadn’t needed to say a thing in that moment. Diana understood what each slight tug on her hair meant and that every slow drag of his bottom lip across hers was a silent question.

Before she could answer, Ominis pulled away, his voice tremulous as he asked, “Will you allow me to put it on for you?"

Diana had almost forgotten about the necklace she still had wound around her palm and yielded it to him with a dazed nod. “I mean, yes. By all means.”

Her body moved automatically up from the chair, pivoting to face the window as Ominis followed suit and came to stand just behind her. It would appear that breathing wasn't so much in the cards for her tonight, because each time she regained it, it was snatched from her chest — this time by the drag of his fingertips along the curve of her neck until they came to rest at its nape, deftly closing the clasp of the necklace beneath her hairline.

"Thank you,” She murmured, not quite ready to turn around and be within kissing distance once again. The brief moment they'd shared had been like an appetizer that only made her hungrier for a main course, and Diana feared she would scare him away if it was too much, too fast.

Patience, remember?

"It's my pleasure,” Ominis's voice held all the same thinly veiled tension as her own. His breath disturbed a few stray hairs atop her head as he leaned in closer, mouth just barely grazing her ear in the most-spine tingling way. He had to know what he was doing, and yet he acted as though he was none the wiser.

"I only..." his admission was broken by a longing sigh, thumbs rubbing circles into her shoulders until they, too, paused.

"Are you...in your nightgown?"

The modesty she'd dismissed at the door returned with full force. Diana's arms snaked around her waist, hugging herself protectively as if she could somehow hide the way the thin material became translucent in the light despite knowing he remained oblivious.

Besides, she'd never been able to hide from him in any sense of the word. He had always sensed her coming up behind him, known the moment she walked into a room as well as every thought and emotion and physical state as if he didn't need the luxury of eyesight to peer into her very soul.

"I was getting ready for bed, so yes,” Diana's giggle was almost giddy. "Perhaps I should have warned you. I just thought —“

"It wouldn't matter, because I can't see it?" Ominis finished helpfully, his tone filled with wry amusement. "But, darling, I can feel it."

To illustrate his point, those wretched hands began a journey over the hills of her shoulders, down the planes of her arms and stopped only when they found the curve of her waist.

"It's likely for the best. I doubt I’d ever look at anything else if I had the pleasure of seeing you like this, but knowing you're wearing my necklace, too… I would give my wand hand to take in that sight,” Ominis pressed a kiss that was laughably chaste — given its lingering duration — on the dip of her collarbone.

Diana found herself beholden to the inner voice that urged her backwards, her back fitting into the angles of his torso and head snug between his pectorals where his heart beat.

"But there's more to your gift than meets the unassisted eye."

Regrettably, Ominis removed his lips from her skin before pulling his wand from his pocket and holding it in the elegant way only he could seemingly master. "Lumos."

Diana’s head tipped back further, eyes wide in awe as the heavens themselves seemed to burst forth from the gem at her throat. Stars danced on the walls, nebulas of swirling violet and startling indigo and colors she didn't even quite have a name for painting the room like watercolor.

She could have sworn tiny glimmers of it played in the shadows of Ominis's starburst eyes, too.

"You're quiet,” He mused. "I can't tell if it's because you love it or hate it."

"What?!" Diana raised a hand reverently to her chest, palm over heart and fingers grazing the underside of the necklace. “Absolutely not. It’s wonderful. No — incredible. I don’t really think I know the right word to cover it, actually.”

"Amit helped, so I can't take all the credit,” Ominis chuckled. “But I’m glad you like it, Di. I only wish…”

His palm cradled her cheek, thumb ghosting over the constellation of freckles there with a reverence usually reserved for praying to deities or admiring great works of art. “…I wish I could give you more. You’ve been through so much lately, and you, of all people, deserve the bloody world.”

“What more could I possibly want?” Diana leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as a deep sense of calm — a feeling she was granted so little of lately — settled over them like snow. “I have your heart, and that’s the best gift I could ever ask for.”

[stellar-haikyuu]

on the wings of love ☆ tanaka ryuunosuke & nishinoya yuu x reader

synopsis: reader is an absolute disaster of a lesbian. she’s been wondering how to tell her friends, but she quickly learns she has nothing to worry about despite a hilarious misunderstanding. details: coming out to your friends, comedy, ~1.3k words, f! reader. platonic friendship w/ tanaka and noya. original character for the reader's love interest. warnings: none! just a fun attempt to write gay panic and spread my haikyuuri agenda.

(from left to right: love interest, reader, love interest's twin brother)

“I swear, there’s something different about you,” Tanaka narrows his eyes, leaning into your personal space. You can count the crumbs clinging to his shirt from lunch.

You roll your eyes, planting a firm hand on his forehead to push him back.

“What are you talking about? We’re just eating lunch. Chill out.”

“Noya, tell me I’m not seeing things,” he pouts, swiveling dramatically toward his partner-in-crime.

Nishinoya tilts his head, staring at your face. His lips press into a thoughtful pout before he finally hums. “She seems happier—well, at least before you annoyed her.”

“Hey-” Tanaka protests.

“But maybe it’s because we started eating lunch together more.” He nudges your shoulder. “Right?”

You sigh, but your lips betray you with a small, reluctant smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

The boys light up at your response. But the peace doesn’t last long. Tanaka starts rambling about Karasuno’s third-year manager.

“Ooohh, did you see Kiyoko-san this morning? She was wearing a new…”

You start to tune him out automatically, nodding along out of habit. Well, you don’t blame your friends, really. Their manager was stunning, after all.

But unfortunately, someone else was taking up the space in your mind.

Futakami Rinka.

She stood with the easy grace of someone who knew how to command attention without asking for it.

Calm, cool, collected. 

Your crush barely floats through your mind before Tanaka’s face suddenly appears inches from your own, nearly making you drop your chopsticks.

“See. See. I told you,” Tanaka’s pointer finger in your line of sight snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You snap, glaring at him.

“You’ve been smiling at nothing!” he accuses.

“Can’t a girl just be happy?”

“Of course! But who is making you happy?” Tanaka’s squint deepens.

Nishinoya gasps dramatically, smacking the table. “You have a crush, don’t you?”

And there it is. You groan inwardly. 

Here we go.

“Classmate?”

“Teammate?”

“Someone we know?”

“Stop it. It’s no one,” you insist.

“You’re lying!”

“Come on, at least tell us your type!”

“No!”

“We won’t stop until you tell us!”

“Yeah! Tell us, tell us!”

Their voices grow louder with each demand, drawing curious stares from nearby students. 

You slap your hands on the table, hissing through clenched teeth, “Shut up, you two! Fine. Gray hair.”

The room falls silent. For a moment.

“Suga-san?”

“What? No! Not your third-year setter!”

The boys exchange glances, wheels turning furiously in their heads.

“That’s too hard, come on!”

You exhale sharply. “Guys, there’s literally a few people in our grade who have-”

“Futakami-san?”

You freeze, involuntarily confirming their guess.

“I’m not surprised.”

What? Did they know this whole time?

“He is attractive...”

Oh. 

Oh no. Not-

“Uh,” you attempt to interject, but the floodgates have already opened.

“Oooh, so he’s your type?”

“Ah, she likes those really mysterious guys.”

“Remind me, is he on a sports team?”

“Guys-”

“I don’t know. Wait, he has good grades too, right?”

“Oh yeah, he seems a little nerdy too.”

“Ah. Like Tsukishima-kun. But not as annoying.”

“Pfft!”

“Tanaka, Noya-”

“That’s so weird. What class is Futakami-san in again?”

Just as you open your mouth to set the record straight, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos.

“Uh, excuse me?”

You turn around so fast that you nearly give yourself whiplash. 

Oh. Oh my gosh.

“Futakami-san!” You greet with a smile, attempting to mask your inner panic. 

However, her name comes out too sharp and loud. Your brain had failed to coordinate with your mouth.

The boys immediately look at the new visitor, though they’re visibly confused when they see someone else.

You sincerely hope she heard nothing from your conversation.

“Hi,” she says, her tone smooth and composed. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“O-of course!” Your answer burst out before she’d even finished the question. 

Calm down!

“I ran into Sato-sensei earlier,” she begins, pushing a gray strand behind her ear. “She forgot that Irina-san will still be in Tokyo until next week. For a leadership camp thing. You were assigned in a trio for the project, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Great. Sensei asked me if it’s alright for us to be paired together for the project instead.”

It’s so hard to take your eyes off her lips that you nearly forget to respond to what she just said.

Wait.

“Oh- uh, the both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s uh, cool?” Your pitch spikes embarrassingly high, forcing you to clear your throat. “I’m, very much- um, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” she says, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to come over to our house this Saturday to work on it.”

“Wh-me?” You barely manage to croak out, your throat suddenly dry.

“Yes.” She tilts her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. “Ah, unless you’re busy-”

“No! No. Not at all.” The words rush out. “But are you, uh, um…it won’t be a hassle for you?”

Her smile softens. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my brother doesn’t bother us.”

The casual mention of her brother sends a jolt through you, and you are suddenly aware of the two sets of eyes burning into your back.

“Ha, well not that he would. He usually stays in his room when I have friends over. So, don’t worry about it!”

“Oh…okay. I- yeah.”

She hums for a moment, thinking about what to say next.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Huh?” You blink, her question catching you off guard.

“You’ve been stumbling over your words a little more than usual,” she notes, her tone light but observant.

“Oh- uh…” Heat rushes to your cheeks as you scramble for a coherent response. “I have, haven’t I? Yeah.” You laugh to fill the silence. “Uh-”

Then, before you can process what’s happening, she leans forward and her hand brushes your forehead.

Your brain short-circuits.

“Ah! What-”

“Sorry,” she apologizes in a low tone.  “Didn’t mean to scare you. I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well.”

“Uh, I’m not sick, don’t worry!” You want to melt.

“That’s good.” She smiles, standing up straight. “Maybe the science test got to you. Tough one, wasn’t it?”

You seize the excuse like a lifeline. 

“Yeah. That’s it. I’ve lost my vocabulary. Wasted it all on those compound names.”

What the hell is wrong with me?

Futakami chuckles softly. “Okay. Well, I’m sure you’ll get it back once we work on our project. See you later!”

“See you, Futakami-san.”

“Ah, just call me Rinka.”

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Sure. Sure, Rinka. Uh, you can call me by my first name, too.”

She tests it out, her voice wrapping around your name like a melody. 

With one last farewell, she leaves the classroom. You slump back in your chair.

“So…you’re going over to his house, huh?” Tanaka says with a sly grin.

“You idiots. You got the wrong Futakami!” You hiss.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the female twin I like!” You bury your face in your hands.

Your table goes silent.

“Wait, really?”

“Is that why you went all weird?”

“Yes,” you say in a much softer voice. Their voices lack the teasing tone from earlier.

They wouldn’t be weirded out, right?

You all stare at each other for a few more seconds before Tanaka barks out a laugh.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” 

You glare at him. “I was trying to.” 

“Really?” Nishinoya blinks at you.

“You guys just kept on talking!”

“Oh gosh,” Tanaka was wiping tears from his eyes. “You’re actually a mess.”

“That’s bold coming from you,” you retort. “Pass your literature exam first.”

“Harsh,” Nishinoya clicks his tongue.

“Uhuh, that goes for you too.”

“Damn exam,” Tanaka mutters. “Forget that, we need to make sure you get the love of your life!” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re gonna be your wingmen.”

“My wingmen? I don’t know if I should be terrified.”

“Pssh, don’t be!” Nishinoya waves a hand.

“Let’s start planning after practice. Ask the team for opinions.”

“What-”

“Yeah, let’s do it! Ask Saeko nee-san too!”

You sigh, knowing the damage was done. But you wouldn’t trade your best friends for anything in the world.

masterlist

[reiwanwan]

A warm place for goodbyes

Summary: Hazel Shelby thought she had left chaos behind when she moved to London, but an unexpected connection with Alfie Solomons challenges everything she thought she wanted

Part 5

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content warning: Mentions of death, Casual Racism, slight violence

1925

A week before Christmas Eve

The morning was cold, the kind of biting chill that crept into your bones and made you want to stay in bed. But the bakery had to open, and the bread wasn’t going to sell itself. I unlocked the door, rubbing my hands together for warmth, and stepped inside, flipping the sign to Open. Everything smelled of flour and yeast, comforting and familiar. I had come to cherish the quiet routine of it all—the simplicity of kneading dough, the small talk with customers.

As I moved behind the counter, my eyes caught on a piece of paper lying near the door. At first, I thought it was just a stray receipt or an advertisement someone had slipped under the door. But when I picked it up, my stomach turned.

It was a photograph of a black hand, stark against the white background. Beneath it, scrawled in elegant handwriting, were the words: Happy Holidays from Luca Changretta and family. I stared at it for a moment, my hands trembling slightly. I knew exactly what it meant. It wasn’t a holiday greeting—it was a warning. A promise. I folded the letter quickly and shoved it into my pocket, trying not to think about it.

The bell above the door jingled, and I turned around, forcing a smile. “Good morning! What can I get for you?”

But it wasn’t a customer. It was Tommy.

“Loaf of bread,” he said finally, his voice as casual as if he were ordering a pint at the Garrison.

I nodded and went to grab a loaf, pretending everything was fine. But I knew better. Tommy didn’t come all the way to London for bread. He was here for something else, and it wasn’t going to be good.

When I placed the loaf on the counter, he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, “Did you get a letter?”.

My hand froze for a fraction of a second before I shook my head. “Not that I remember.”

His gaze hardened, and I knew he didn’t believe me. He reached into his coat and pulled out a letter, placing it on the counter. It was identical to the one in my pocket—the same black hand, the same chilling message.

“It’s from the Changrettas,” he said, his tone flat. “They’re coming for all of us. Happy holidays, eh?”

I turned to face him, my jaw tightening. “I don’t want to talk about this, Tommy.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded slightly, as if he understood but didn’t agree. “You need to come back to Small Heath,” he said. “By next week. Everyone will be there for Christmas eve, and it’ll be easier to protect you if we’re all together.”

“I don’t want to go back”.

“It’s your choice,” he replied, slipping the letter back into his pocket. He placed some coins on the counter for the bread and left without another word.

That night, I came home late. Ada wasn’t there, probably off at one of her meetings or running errands. I went into my room, pulled the letter out of my pocket, and sat down at my vanity.

I stared at the black hand, the words mocking me. My mind drifted to something Arthur had said months ago.

It was after the family had gathered for a meeting, all of us crowded into Polly’s parlor. Arthur had been pacing, restless as always, while Polly sat in her chair, her sharp eyes fixed on him.

“I shot him,” Arthur said abruptly, his voice loud and raw. “I shot him for mercy so Tommy wouldn’t keep torturing him.”

Polly had stood up then, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You fool! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Mercy? Mercy, Arthur? You’ve just signed our fucking death warrants!”

Arthur had just shrugged, muttering something about how it had to be done.

Now, sitting in my room, I cursed under my breath. One act of so-called mercy, and now the Changrettas were here to bury us all. Fuckin hell.

The next day

I went to see Alfie. He was down at the docks, his men unloading crates and barrels while he barked orders.

“Hazelnut,” he said when he saw me, his voice softer than usual. “Come to check on me, have you?”

“Something like that,” I said, trying to smile.

We talked for a while, the way we always did, but eventually, I brought up the letter. I knew he already knew about it—Tommy probably told him—but I needed to say it out loud.

“I got one too,” I said quietly.

Alfie nodded, his expression unreadable.

“I was thinking,” I continued, “maybe we could leave. Go to Margate. You’ve always talked about moving there, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his tone was firm. “I’m sorry Hazel. It’s not possible.”

“Why not?” I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.

“Because it just isn’t,” he said, avoiding my gaze.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Alfie—”

“Listen to Tommy,” he interrupted, his voice low and steady. “Go back to Small Heath with your family.”

I looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Hazel,” he said, stepping closer. He gently took my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’d rather see you safe and alive, dying from natural causes, than lying in a bloody grave because of some big-nosed fucking wop.”

I pursed my lips together and furrowed my brows disapprovingly.

“Have you been walking around without a gun?” he asked suddenly, his tone sharp.

I didn’t answer, which told him enough.

“Christ,” he muttered, pulling a gun from his pocket and handing it to me. “Keep this on you.”

I nodded, tucking it into my jacket. He kissed me then, a quick but lingering kiss, and told me to go home and pack.

When I got home, Ada was there, packing up her things.

“Tommy’s an idiot,” she muttered as she folded clothes. “Arthur’s an idiot. They’re all idiots.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Need help?” I asked.

She nodded, and I started packing too. After a while, she asked me to check on Karl.

I went into his room, watching him sleep peacefully. Sitting down beside him, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Luca and his men wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a child like Karl if it meant getting to us. My family isn’t any better of course. They kill and stain the clothes of those their enemies with their blood. And that’s why I fucking hated being called a Shelby.

When I came back, Ada was talking about her trip to Boston, laughing about the strange American customs she’d seen. But she noticed the look on my face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I hesitated, then told her about what happened with Alfie.

She gave me a look, one that said she knew exactly how this was going to end. I changed the subject. “What about John? heard you visited him.”

Ada sighed. “I told him to come back to Small Heath, and he said he would. But Esme…” She trailed off. I understood what she meant. John wasn’t coming then.

[wonlvures]

𐙚 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 𐙚

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: boyfriend!sunghoon x girlfriend!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff, comfort

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you’ve had a long, rough day and had sunghoon cheer you up for the rest of the day :)

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is my first ever post on here so please don’t judge :)

You had one of those days—the kind where everything feels like it’s out of sync. From the moment you woke up, it felt like the world was working against you: the bus was late, your morning coffee spilled, and your workday was filled with never-ending meetings. By the time you finally got home, you were physically drained, your mind running in circles, and all you wanted was to collapse on the couch and forget the day even happened.

But as soon as you stepped through the door, everything changed.

The soft, familiar hum of music greeted you first. It was the playlist you two always listen to when you need to unwind—a mix of chill beats and your favorite tracks. The warmth of the lights made the apartment feel cozy, and in that instant, you could almost feel the tension in your shoulders begin to melt away.

Before you even had a chance to take off your shoes, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Sunghoon, with his usual calm but warm demeanor, appeared at your side. He was already smiling, his eyes soft with concern.

"Long day?" he asked, his voice full of understanding. Without waiting for an answer, he gently took your bag from your shoulders and set it down by the door.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word out, he led you over to the couch, his hand resting lightly on your back. "Sit down. I’ve got something for you," he said with a playful grin.

You sank into the cushions, grateful for the chance to relax. Sunghoon, always so thoughtful, returned a moment later with a warm cup in his hands. "I made your favorite drink," he said, handing it to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. The smell of the caramel latte, sweet and comforting, instantly lifted your spirits.

You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you, and let out a long sigh. It felt like the chaos of the day had faded the moment you stepped into his care.

“How did you know I was craving this?” you asked, looking at him in surprise.

He smiled, shrugging slightly. “I remember you said something about it a few days ago, and I thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”

You couldn't help but smile back, touched by his attentiveness. Sunghoon had this way of making you feel like you were the most important person in his world, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed without you even having to ask.

As you sat there, sipping your drink and talking about the day, Sunghoon listened quietly. He didn’t interrupt, and he didn’t offer advice unless you asked for it—he just sat there, his gaze never wavering from you, his quiet presence a steady comfort. He had a way of making you feel heard, as if your thoughts and feelings were worth more than anything else in the world.

After a few minutes of conversation, he stood up and walked over to the side table. You watched as he picked something up, a small piece of paper. When he turned back to you, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’ve got something planned for this weekend,” he said, his voice teasing but warm. “It’s a surprise, but I want you to have it.” He handed you the note, which you unfolded carefully.

It was a hand-drawn map of a park, with an “X” marking a spot. "We’re going for a picnic," Sunghoon said, his tone light but with a soft sincerity. “I thought we could just relax, enjoy the weather, and maybe bring your favorite snacks.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple day outdoors. But the fact that Sunghoon had taken the time to think about it, to plan something just for you, made it feel incredibly special.

“I love it,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

He smiled shyly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s nothing. I just want you to be happy.”

The two of you spent the rest of the evening together—quiet moments, laughter, and small gestures of affection. Sunghoon was always so in tune with you, noticing when you were tired or when you needed a little space, but also quick to offer comfort when you needed it. There was a perfect balance in the way he cared for you: never overbearing, but always present.

Later, when you sat on the couch, he pulled you closer, your legs tangled together. He rested his head on your shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You could hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, and for a moment, there was just peace between you.

“You’re the best,” you whispered, running a hand through his hair.

He chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. “You say that now, but wait until I’m snoring on our picnic date this weekend.”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “I won’t mind. I’ll just bring extra snacks for myself.”

The teasing continued, but beneath the playful banter, there was a quiet, undeniable bond between you both. Sunghoon’s loyalty, his unwavering support, and the way he always had your back made you feel like you were never alone, no matter what was going on in your life.

As the night grew late, you stood up, stretching your arms overhead. "I should probably get some rest," you said, already knowing how tomorrow would feel if you didn’t get some sleep.

Sunghoon stood with you, his hand instinctively finding yours. “I’ll walk you to bed,” he said softly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to take care of you, even in the smallest of ways.

You smiled up at him, the affection in your heart for him growing stronger by the minute. Sunghoon wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your safe space, your constant, the person who made every day a little easier to face, simply by being there.

As he tucked you into bed that night, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The world outside could be chaotic, but with him, everything felt calm and right.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, as he kissed the top of your head. “Always.”

[bunnliix]

The Invisible Strings that Bind Us - Chapter Two

Chapter Two! We have some good cute fluff because it's gonna start getting angsty after this chapter, so prepare for that. But for now, we have some wholesome interactions between y/n and the boys. For anyone that saw this posted before, no you didn't.

a.k.a., I may have had to make a couple changes to it after it went live that I forgot about haha

Masterlist

word count: 1.8k

warnings: food, canon skz chaos, I think that's it

Y/n woke up slowly, feeling a bit disoriented. She felt whatever was beneath her shifting, before she heard an Aussie accent. 

“Good morning sunshine.” She heard, opening her eyes to see Chan looking down at her.

“Huh? What the fuck? That wasn’t a dream?” She mused out loud, forgetting that she wasn’t thinking about it. She heard laughter coming from across the room, finding Changbin and Han bent over laughing.

“This isn’t a dream, we promise you. Now, do you wanna sit up?” Chan asked her, to which she nodded. With his help, she sat up and moved to sit against the back of the couch. 

“You can stop laughing at me, god dammit. It wasn’t that funny.” She lightly glared at the two men. It really wasn’t that funny, honestly, she was ready to slap them. If only they were in reach of her.

“Guys, chill out, please.” Chan scolds the two members, raising an eyebrow at them. The boys apologized to Y/n, bowing and saying sorry to her. She waved away their apologies, telling them it was fine. She really didn’t mind, but it’s still not fun to get laughed at.

“So, where do we go from here?” Y/n spoke up, wondering what would happen now. It may not have been the ideal soulmate meeting, but obviously fate didn’t care about that. There may not have been a big outward sign that they were, but she had never felt more at ease with anyone else ever. Even prior girlfriends she had, that she almost thought were her soulmates, never made her feel this right as these eight boys were right now.

“Well, seeing as you landed right in our laps, and also Binnie has our initials plus one more set, and once we match yours up with the last initial, I’d say you’re our soulmate. We can figure everything else out from there.” Chan said, taking charge of the situation. 

Y/n told them all her full name, and her initials matched up with the last set on Binnie’s arm. This prompted Felix to come over and hug her, whispering in her ear how much he’s glad to have found their last soulmate. He laid his head on her shoulder, his arms still wrapped around her, not letting go of her now that she’s here.

All of the boys’ phones went off, pushing them to check and see who’s messaging. Hyunjin groaned, “Ugh, we have to head back to dance practice, they’re looking for us.” He told the rest of them. This prompted many complaints and cries, the boys not wanting to leave their newest soulmate yet. 

“How long do you have to practice? I can just stay here, honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I have my phone and I can entertain myself till you all return.” Y/n said, smiling up at them. She didn’t mind being by herself for a little while, it would give her some time to process everything that’s happened.

“If we’re lucky, an hour? Depends on how much of a hardass Minho-hyung is today.” Hyunjin replied to her, not managing to dodge the slap from the aforementioned person. He rubbed his shoulder, feeling the pain from the hit.

“Yah! I don’t want to be away from our soulmate either, but keep it up like that and I’ll make you practice for hours.” Minho snapped back at Hyunjin, looking annoyed.

“Okay, let’s chill out, okay? No need to get violent.” Chan tried to pacify the situation, and thankfully it worked

The boys begrudgingly packed up, Minho leaning in close to Hyunjin as they left, telling him that he’d make a nice snack after 20 minutes in the airfryer at 180 degrees. Y/n laughed as she watched them leave, before moving to sit against the armrest, getting comfortable. She decided to think about her situation later, and grabbed her phone, opening up tiktok and scrolling the time away.

An hour later…

Y/n hadn’t realized how much time had passed, and when the door to the studio opened, she jumped and threw her phone up into the air, as she panicked. She however, managed to not fall off the couch, but her heart was running a thousand miles a minute as she tried to calm down. She held onto her chest, looking at the door to see the entirety of the group standing in the doorway, a couple of them trying to hold back their laughter, as others looked concerned. 

“Could give a girl a bit of a heads up, yeah?” She said to them, a bit over the panic.

“We didn’t think you’d be that absorbed into whatever you were doing, honestly.” Chan replied to her, moving to grab her phone from where it had been thrown, and bringing it over to her. 

She sat up, letting Chan sit down next to her. “That’s fair. I didn’t realize an hour had passed, to tell you the truth. But that’s because I’m bad at telling how much time has passed.” She explained. She truly had very little concept of time. She could look at the clock and five hours had passed when it only felt like it had maybe been an hour. It was one of her greatest weaknesses.

“Don’t worry, some of them get like that too.” Felix piped up, moving closer and sitting on the arm of the couch. “Chan especially, the man works and zones out while doing so.” He continued.

“Yeah, and the rest of 3racha are the same way.” Hyunjin pointed out, to which Han hit his arm. 

“Yah, we’re not that bad!” He shouted, pouting afterwards. His little quokka cheeks made an appearance as he did that.

“I don’t think I believe that.” Y/n told Han. 

He continued pouting, even his newest soulmate was being so mean. He couldn’t believe it, and there were giggles from his other soulmates, showing that they were on her side, not his.

“Well now that you’re all back, and I assume free from idol duties for a little while, I’d like to talk about where we go from here, now that we’ve confirmed I’m your last soulmate.” Y/n spoke up, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.

“Well, I think the first thing to discuss is how prepared you are to be the soulmate of eight other people, who I assume live very far away from where you are from?” Felix asked her.

“Well, considering that I’m from Canada, that’s not horribly far, but still a bit farther than I think is reasonable. So I think I’d be moving here, and not the other way round.” She told them, starting to think about the logistics of moving here.

“Ah, yeah. You’d have to move here, but we can help you with every step you need to take. We wouldn’t leave you to do it all alone.” Chan turned to look at her. “We’d have to move into a bigger place too, unless you’d want your own space?” He continued.

“I wouldn’t mind either option, really.”

“Okay, that’s fine, we can sit down with management and get that figured out. They can also help us look for a place for you as well, just as an option.” Chan said.

Y/n nodded, fine with that. She wasn’t picky, it really wasn’t a big deal to her where she’d be living. She’d just be happy to be near her soulmates, honestly.

Everyone went silent as Y/n’s stomach grumbled, the girl herself curling in on herself to try and hide. 

“And maybe now is a good time for food.” Felix said.

“I’m hungry!” Changbin shouted, making a couple of the boys chuckle.

Chan stood up, holding a hand out to Y/n, who took it as she stood up as well. He pulled her along as they followed the rest of the boys towards the JYPE cafeteria, as it was the easiest place to get actual food. It thankfully wasn’t that packed when they arrived, and the boys quickly picked out their food, while Chan helped her decide on what she wanted. She went for some tteokbokki, and the other boys decided that they didn’t mind sharing bites of what they chose, so that nothing was wasted if she didn’t like it

Y/n tried bites of everyone’s food, and enjoyed most of it, with a couple exceptions. Despite that, everyone enjoyed their lunch, and after everyone finished and cleaned up the table, they all headed back up to their practice room, deciding it was a better place to talk than squeezing into the studio.

“So, obviously we have to tell management about this, and also figure out how long you can stay here before heading back to pack up your stuff.” Minho spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, and I have to talk to my university and try and get that figured out as well. I’m almost finished with my degree, so I’d like to actually finish it off fully.” Y/n told them.

Wows came from a couple of the younger boys, and Y/n blushed a bit. 

“What do you study?” Seungmin asked her.

“History is my major in university.” She told them, proceeding to tell them some of the subjects she’s studied within history. She talked more about her favorite periods or topics to study, after the boys asked some questions about what in history she enjoyed and why she decided to study it as a degree.

The group continued talking about their own hobbies and other things they’d like to do in life, as Chan moved to check his and the others schedules, as well as notifying management that they needed to have a meeting. He found their schedules to have been cleared for the day, after he got a response from management that they could have the meeting in 30 minutes. 

“Well, good news and maybe good news?” Chan piped up, everyone else going silent, waiting to hear the news. “So, we now have a free schedule for the remainder of the day, but we also have a meeting with management in 30 minutes.” He finished. 

A round of groans commenced at Chan’s announcement, as the boys dreaded the meeting with the managers. Y/n looked around in confusion, wondering why they were reacting this way. 

“What’s so bad about the meeting?” She asked, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“They’re not fans of the bureaucracy of being an idol, so they dread meetings with our managers and team.” Chan explained, rolling his eyes at the boys’ antics.

“Ohhh.” She understood now, it made sense that the whole bureaucracy of being an idol would be boring. She herself didn’t enjoy those things either, let alone how much of this administrative stuff goes on in the background of idol agencies.

The boys decided to go change into something a little less casual for their meeting, and thankfully, the boys had something that she could fit into. It wasn’t much, but it fit and didn’t look horrible on her, so that was what counted. They just joked around and the boys fought playfully until about five minutes till the meeting, when they all headed up to where the meeting was to take place, where they arrived just in time. Chan did a head count, before he pushed and held the door open for all of us to enter.

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