#i do still have the entire opening song memorized

[mostharshrepose]

🎶 Who would've guessed that the girl we described/Was just exactly what the doctor prescribed?🎶

Fran Drescher is a treasure.

And I wouldn’t be opposed to a Terminator reboot where she saves the day. 

[brunchable]

Meet Me On a Midsummer's Night.

Pairings: beefy!Bucky x F!Reader [ pre-established rs ] Warning: MUTUAL PINING. FLUFF. BUCKY SMUG AND A TEASING MF. PDA. Summary: On a hot night, you can’t fall asleep thinking about this and that— you finally call Bucky. You didn’t know he'd come out to meet you but he did. A/N: I've been digging my playlist and I stumbled upon my old korean hip-hop playlist. It's summer here in Aus and the song is about meeting someone they like in the middle of the night and this is the product. I'll leave the song here, and if you know this song, you're awesome.

The ceiling fan creaked overhead, pushing the thick, summer air around your room without mercy. You kicked off your sheet for what felt like the hundredth time, staring at the faint glow of your phone on the nightstand. Midnight, it whispered, daring you to do something impulsive.

Your thumb hovered over Bucky’s name in your contacts, nerves coiling in your stomach. The sensible part of you begged you to stop. But the other part—the part that lingered on his laugh too long, memorized the exact shade of his smile—urged you forward.

Your thumb hovered over his name in your contacts for an embarrassing amount of time. You bit your lip, debating, until finally—finally—you pressed Call before you could change your mind.

It only rang once before his voice poured through the speaker, low and warm like honey.

“Hey.”

His voice was warm and a little raspy, like he hadn’t quite shaken off sleep. The sound wrapped around you, and your lips curled into a smile you were too glad he couldn’t see.

“Hey,” you whispered back, trying not to sound too breathless. “What’re you doing?”

“Not much. Just… chilling.” A faint rustle came through the line, like he’d sat up. “You?”

You pressed your palm to your forehead, silently berating yourself. What were you doing? What was this? And why did your heart feel like it was trying to climb out of your chest?

“I, um—can’t sleep,” you blurted before logic could catch up to your words. “It’s the heat. Thought maybe… you’d want to meet up?”

There was a pause on the other end, long enough that you bit your lip and cursed yourself for saying something so ridiculous. Then Bucky chuckled, low and warm, like he couldn’t quite believe you.

“It’s midnight,” he said, his tone teasing. But then, softer: “Sure.”

You blinked, your stomach flipping in a way that felt entirely too much for someone agreeing to meet you. 

“Cool,” you said, trying for nonchalant.

“Cool,” he echoed. There was a pause, and you could almost picture the amused quirk of his lips. “Uh… so… we actually need a meeting place, if we’re doing this.”

“Oh, gosh, yeah,” you stammered, flustered. Your fingers curled into the sheets as you scrambled for an idea. “Um… your favorite bar? Death and Taxes? That’s still your favorite, right?”

He laughed, soft and deep, like he couldn’t help himself. “Still my favorite. Death and Taxes it is.”

You could almost picture him leaning back against the headboard, his lips quirking up at the corners.

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

“Yeah… see you.”

The call ended, and you pressed your phone against your chest like it could stop your heart from breaking free of your ribcage. For a moment, you just sat there, letting the giddy, reckless feeling take over. You stared at the ceiling, cheeks warm, a wild smile tugging at your lips.

Then you bolted out of bed.

Your closet door creaked open as you rifled through it, tossing rejected options onto the floor. Something light, something comfortable—it wasn’t like this was a date. But still, you didn’t want to look like you’d just rolled out of bed, even though you absolutely had. You finally settled on a loose, flowy top and shorts, tying your hair back with a lazy knot and slipping on your sandals.

The walk to the bar felt longer than it should have, every step only adding to the fluttery mess in your stomach. It wasn’t nerves, exactly—okay, maybe it was nerves. It had been so long since you’d seen him. Long enough that you weren’t entirely sure if you’d even recognize him.

He wasn’t big on social media, wasn’t one for selfies or tagged pictures. Sure, you had the version of him burned into your memory—the sharp jawline, piercing eyes, the way he always looked like he belonged in a leather jacket, even if he wasn’t wearing one. But people changed. What if he’d changed? What if he walked up, and you had to pretend to place him? The thought made your cheeks flush with secondhand embarrassment.

You arrived first, of course. The bar was quiet at this hour, the neon sign glowing faintly against the brick wall, casting soft red and blue hues onto the sidewalk. You stood just outside, rocking slightly on your heels, the night’s heat sticking to your skin. The air buzzed with crickets and the faint hum of cars in the distance, but all you could focus on was the wild beat of your heart.

Would he even look the same? Would it be weird? Would he—

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name cut through your thoughts, and you turned on instinct.

The world slowed.

It wasn’t just a turn. It was a pivot, a gasp caught in your throat as your eyes found him. And oh. Oh, Bucky.

He stood a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of dark jeans that fit him almost criminally well. The kind of fit that made your brain short-circuit. His shirt was simple, black, stretched over broad shoulders that practically dared you to look away. His long hair, slightly tousled, caught the faint glow of the neon light, framing his face like he’d just stepped out of a movie poster. And that face. God, that face. The sharp lines of his jaw softened only by the faint stubble that made him look rugged in the most devastating way.

Tall, solid, impossibly handsome—this wasn’t the boy you’d known. This was… something else entirely.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower, richer than you remembered, like he’d spent the years perfecting it. His lips curled into a small, almost shy smile, but his eyes—blue and bright—were locked on you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You stood frozen, blinking up at him, every coherent thought scattering like confetti. It felt like the kind of moment people wrote songs about, the kind where the summer air turned into something magical just because he was in it.

“Bucky,” you managed, your voice embarrassingly breathy. “You… you’re here.”

“I am,” he said, his smile widening slightly. He stepped closer, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him even from a foot away. “You… okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Sorry,” you blurted, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “It’s just… it’s been a while. And you—” You gestured vaguely at him, your face hot. “You’re… you look…”

His brows lifted, his grin turning into something teasing. “I look…?”

Like a Greek god. Like a walking, talking fever dream. Like you’ve ruined every other man for me.

“Good,” you finished lamely, your voice pitching up slightly at the end. “You look good.”

His chuckle was soft, but it wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you caught the way his gaze swept over you. Not hurried, not lazy—just deliberate enough to make your skin tingle.

“So do you,” he said, his tone casual, but the way he said it—low, like it was just for you—sent your heart tumbling into your stomach. “Better than good, actually.”

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy as you tried to deflect. “What, like you expected me to show up in pajamas?”

He shrugged, that teasing smile still playing on his lips. “Wouldn’t have minded. You could probably pull them off.”

It was impossible to tell if he was joking. It was even more impossible to figure out why your brain was suddenly turning into melted butter.

“Anyway,” he said, glancing toward the bar before looking back at you. “Shall we?”

“Y-Yes, let’s go.” you replied, your voice steadier now, though your pulse was still racing.

He smiled again, the kind of smile that felt like a secret, like you were the only one who got to see it. Then he stepped aside, motioning toward the door. 

“After you.”

You hesitated, glancing at him, then the bar. The thought hit you suddenly, startling and unshakable.

You hadn’t seen him in years, but in this moment—on this hot summer night—it felt like no time had passed at all.

× × × × 

The corner booth of Death and Taxes was quieter, tucked away from the hum of late-night laughter and clinking glasses. It wasn’t completely silent—the bar was alive in that effortless, summery way, the air buzzing with heat and conversation—but it was as close as you’d get. You slid into the seat first, leaving him no choice but to take the one directly across from you, where the glow of the dim light caught your face just right.

Not that he was looking too hard or anything.

Except he absolutely was.

“Two cold ones,” you told the waitress, already glancing at him for confirmation. Bucky raised a brow, smirking. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” you said simply, shrugging like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing. It was a beer at midnight in a corner booth with you. And he was about two seconds away from grinning like an idiot over it.

When the beers came, you both dove into the fries first—crispy, golden, hot—and he realized he’d missed this. You weren’t in a rush, just talking, the way you always had. The kind of easy, back-and-forth rhythm that made him feel like no time had passed.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back in his seat. “How’ve you been?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, your lips curving into a small smile. “Oh, you know. I haven’t really changed much. Still working hard.”

Your voice was light, but it made his chest ache anyway. He knew that look, the way you brushed off the weight of your own life like it wasn’t worth mentioning.

“I’m the same. Still working hard,” he replied. His eyes lingered on you for a beat too long before he asked, “You still dating that same guy?”

He shouldn’t have asked. He knew it the second the words left his mouth. But curiosity—or something else entirely—had gotten the better of him.

“Oh. Um, no.” You busied yourself with your beer, the glass cool against your hand. “We broke up.”

His heart gave a little kick, though he tried not to show it. “You guys broke up? Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He reached for a fry, half-smiling. “It’s good to see you anyway.”

“It’s okay,” you said softly, looking up at him again. There was something unreadable in your gaze, something he wanted to spend the rest of the night deciphering. “It was a while back. But it’s good to see you too.”

God, stop looking at me like that.

He leaned forward, his elbow on the table, watching the way your fingers idly traced the condensation on your glass. “Time goes by so fast, huh?” he mused. “We’ve already come all this way, but how come you haven’t changed at all?”

You raised a brow at him, playful but curious.

You tilted your head at him, your brow arching slightly, the corners of your mouth quirking.

“You’re still pretty,” he added, and though he chuckled, his words landed softer than he expected. Half-joking, yeah, but the truth was so clear it hurt.

Your reaction wasn’t what he expected. You looked down, your fingers brushing the rim of your glass as a quiet laugh escaped you. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said lightly, waving him off before quickly changing the subject. “So, what about you? Been up to anything exciting?”

Why are you changing the subject? The thought rolled through his mind, unbidden but persistent. His eyes lingered on your face, the way you avoided his gaze with that bashful smile. Is it because of the alcohol or because you’re shy?

He shifted in his seat, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned forward. “What, you don’t want me getting sentimental on you?”

Your laugh bubbled up again, the sound warm and easy, but you didn’t answer.

Yeah, he thought, watching the way you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, your cheeks just a shade warmer than before. It’s because you’re shy.

And god help him, it only made him want to say more.

Bucky took another long sip of his beer, the cool bitterness doing little to distract him from the way your smile lingered in his mind, soft and teasing. The overhead lights cast a warm glow on your skin, and he could see the faint sheen of summer heat clinging to your collarbones. You were leaning forward slightly, your chin propped on your hand, completely at ease—or so it seemed.

His thumb traced the rim of his glass absently, the thought bubbling up in his chest before he could push it down.

“I want to tell you something,” he said, his voice low but steady.

You tilted your head slightly, the curious quirk of your brow pulling his attention to the way your lips curved.

“Hm? And what’s that?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He swirled the beer in his glass once, then set it down deliberately, as if that might make this easier. 

“I used to like you before.”

For a moment, he thought he’d miscalculated. That he’d said too much too soon. But then your reaction broke through his nerves like sunlight on water—a faint laugh, soft and disarming.

“I know,” you said, your tone light, but your gaze flicked to your drink, your fingers tracing the condensation on the glass like it might give you something to hold onto.

The simple words knocked the air clean out of his lungs.

You know? His mind stumbled over the implications. Had he been that obvious? Had you noticed the way he looked at you back then, the way he’d hovered just a little too long when you stood close, his fingers itching to brush yours?

He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. 

“Guess I’m a little drunk. Don’t mind my ramblings,” he muttered, leaning back like that would somehow lessen the weight of what he’d just said.

You gave him a look, one brow arched, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You don’t get drunk.”

Shit.

“I—uh—” His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, heat creeping up to his ears as he tried for a laugh. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to.”

Your smirk grew, but you didn’t press him further. Instead, you took another fry, dipping it in the ketchup and nibbling on the end. His gaze followed the movement like he had no choice in the matter, his thoughts spinning helplessly.

You knew? He wanted to ask, wanted to make you spell it out, wanted to hear it in your voice. Did you really know? Or was this some casual observation, something you didn’t think twice about while it had consumed him for years?

But then you glanced up, your eyes meeting his, and the warmth there—gentle, a little shy—unraveled something in him.

He leaned forward again, resting his arms on the table, his beer forgotten. “If you knew,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost teasing, “why didn’t you say anything?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but the smile that followed was soft. “Why didn’t you?”

His laugh was quiet, rueful. “Touché.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The noise of the bar faded into the background, the space between you charged with something unspoken, something almost tangible. Bucky watched as you took another sip of your drink, your lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, your lips brushing the edge of the glass.

“Do you still?” you asked suddenly, your voice tentative, like the words had escaped without permission.

His heart stuttered, the question catching him off guard. He could lie, brush it off like he had before, but the thought of hiding how he felt—after all this time, after you—felt impossible.

Instead, he leaned forward, close enough that he could see the way your breath caught. 

“What do you think?” he murmured, his voice low, his gaze fixed on yours.

And the way your cheeks flushed, the way your lips parted ever so slightly, was enough to make him think that maybe, just maybe, you already knew the answer.

You let out a nervous huff, the sound breaking through the air between you, as fragile as it was charged. His words hung there, lingering like they had weight, like they could change everything if you gave them room. But you didn’t trust yourself to stay in that moment—not when his gaze was locked on yours like that, steady and warm and impossibly deep.

“It’s getting hot in here,” you said quickly, your voice pitched higher than usual as you slid out of the booth. “We should, um… we should take a walk. Go someplace else.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you dared a glance at him. He was leaning back in his chair now, his head tilted slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. But then he nodded, standing with that same effortless grace that had always made him seem larger than life.

“Sure,” he said simply, his voice easy, as if he hadn’t just made your heart feel like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. He nodded, standing with that quiet ease of his, reaching for his wallet before you could protest.

You jumped up quickly, your excitement spilling over as you moved toward the door without waiting for him. The cool night air hit your skin as soon as you stepped outside, a welcome relief from the stuffy warmth of the bar. You breathed it in deeply, the summer heat still clinging to the pavement, but at least the air felt freer out here.

“We’re walking, huh?” Bucky said from behind you, his voice teasing but warm. “Got a specific destination in mind, or are we just wandering?”

“Wandering,” you said brightly, not slowing your pace. “Who needs a plan, anyway?”

You felt light, like your feet barely touched the ground as you walked ahead of him, your sandals clicking softly against the pavement. The streetlights cast golden pools along the sidewalk, your shadow dancing playfully as you moved. You threw a glance over your shoulder to see if he was keeping up, and the way he was watching you—his hands stuffed in his pockets, his lips curved into a soft, crooked smile—made something inside you flutter wildly.

“You’re gonna leave me behind,” he called, his tone mock-scolding.

“Then hurry up!” you called back, laughing as you skipped a few steps ahead, your movements careless and free.

For a moment, it felt perfect. Like something out of a summer dream, the hum of crickets filling the quiet spaces between your laughter and his easy steps.

And then—oh god.

A shadow darted near your face, too fast and too sudden, and you froze in the middle of the sidewalk. It took you half a second to process it—a beetle, its shiny wings catching the light as it buzzed straight toward you.

“AH! GO AWAY.” The words tumbled out as you flailed, stumbling backward and nearly losing a shoe in the process.

Bucky stopped in his tracks, his brows shooting up. “What the—?”

“BUG!” you yelped, pointing wildly at the air around you. “It’s flying! Do something!”

The beetle buzzed again, its wings making a high-pitched hum as it veered closer. You squeaked, ducking dramatically and running behind Bucky like he was a human shield.

He turned, his expression somewhere between concern and disbelief. “Are you serious right now? It’s just a beetle.”

“It’s not just a beetle!” you hissed, gripping his arm like your life depended on it. “It’s a flying. Look at it!”

He glanced at the beetle, then back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’re freaking out over that? It’s like… half an inch.”

“It’s not the size that matters!” you shot back, still cowering behind him. “It’s the intent! Look at it—it’s coming for me!”

That did it. He broke, his laughter spilling out in soft, rich waves that vibrated through his chest. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but he stepped forward anyway, waving a hand to shoo the beetle away.

When it finally buzzed off into the night, you peeked over his shoulder cautiously, still clutching his arm. 

“Is it gone?”

“Yes, it’s gone,” he said, still chuckling. “You can come out of hiding now.”

You straightened, brushing imaginary dirt off your top as if that might restore some of your dignity. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Don’t mention it, bug magnet.” His voice was full of barely concealed laughter, and you turned to glare at him, but he only grinned wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Not funny,” you muttered, though you couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

“Oh, it’s very funny,” he countered, and the warmth in his gaze made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the beetle.

And when his hand brushed against yours as you both started walking again, your heart skipped so hard you thought it might give out entirely.

× × × ×

The hill wasn’t far—just a short walk past quiet streets and through a small park. The city stretched out below like a sea of twinkling lights, the soft hum of distant traffic blending with the chirping of crickets. The air was still warm, but up here, a slight breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of grass and something faintly sweet.

You spotted the bench first, nestled beneath a tall tree, its silhouette just visible against the glow of the city below. Without waiting for him, you made your way over, plopping down with a contented sigh and stretching your legs out in front of you. The wood was cool against your skin, grounding you after the walk.

Bucky followed, his steps slower, more deliberate. When he reached the bench, he hesitated for a moment before sitting beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched. Almost.

“Nice spot,” he said, leaning back and resting an arm along the back of the bench, his fingers just brushing your shoulder. His voice was low, casual, but there was a softness to it, like he wasn’t just talking about the view.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze fixed on the skyline. The city lights flickered like a million little stars, stretching endlessly, but you couldn’t help feeling like the real magic was sitting next to you. “I used to come up here a lot.”

“Alone?” His voice tilted just enough to make the word feel heavier than it should.

“Sometimes,” you said, glancing at him. His profile was sharp against the faint glow of the streetlights, his hair falling in soft waves that caught the breeze. You looked back at the city quickly, your heart tripping over itself. “It’s peaceful. Helps me think.”

“Think about what?” His voice was closer now, like he’d leaned in just a little. You felt the weight of his gaze on you, like he could see through every answer you wanted to give and straight to the truth.

“Stuff,” you said vaguely, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. “Life. Work.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, and when you glanced at him, his lips were curved into that crooked, teasing smile that made your chest ache.

“I’m not lying!” you protested, though your voice betrayed you, the words coming out more flustered than you intended.

“You’re thinking about me,” he said, so casually it took you a second to realize what he’d said.

Your head snapped toward him, your mouth falling open in protest, but the look on his face stopped you cold. His smile was soft now, his blue eyes steady and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “I take up way too much space in that head of yours.”

You scoffed, trying to sound indignant, but the laugh that followed betrayed you. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m right,” he countered, leaning just a little closer, his arm still stretched along the back of the bench. His fingers brushed your shoulder again, light and deliberate, like a dare. “And you know it.”

You rolled your eyes, looking away, but your lips twitched into a smile. “You’ve got a big ego, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, and when you glanced back, the grin he gave you was pure trouble. “But I’m not wrong.”

The moment stretched, the silence between you filled only by the faint breeze and the hum of the city below. His gaze never wavered, steady and unrelenting, and you felt yourself drawn in despite every effort to look away.

“You still haven’t denied it,” he pointed out, his voice quieter now, softer. 

Your heart pounded, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “What’s the point? You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

He laughed softly, the sound rich and warm. 

“You’re right,” he admitted, his smile tilting into something almost sheepish. “I wouldn’t.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your own laugh, but it slipped out anyway, light and breathless. 

“Ugh.”

“I mean who did you call to meet you out here? At midnight?” he shot back, his tone lighter now, teasing but full of warmth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, the way the light caught in his eyes, the faint crinkle at the corners of his smile. 

“Maybe I should’ve called someone else.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up, his lips twitching into an incredulous grin. “Someone else?” he repeated, leaning in slightly, the faintest spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You wound me, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I’m serious. Maybe Sam—”

“Sam?” he cut in, a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. He leaned back, spreading his arms along the bench like he was getting comfortable for the show. “You think Sam would leave his comfy bed and perfectly air-conditioned apartment to meet you at midnight? Please.”

“Well—”

“And don’t even say Steve,” he continued, cutting off whatever rebuttal you had. “You know he’s asleep by nine. The man’s practically a grandpa.”

You laughed, unable to help yourself, and the sound only seemed to spur him on.

“Face it,” he said, leaning forward now, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch. “I’m the only one you could call. You wanted me here.”

Your mouth opened, a half-formed protest on the tip of your tongue, but his expression stopped you cold. The teasing curve of his lips was still there, but his eyes—they were steady, intent, like he was daring you to deny it.

“I…” you started, faltering when you realized he wasn’t going to look away.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of challenge. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you managed, your fingers twisting in your lap.

“That you wanted me here.” His smile turned into something softer, warmer, but no less devastating. “That when you couldn’t sleep, I was the first person you thought of.”

Your breath hitched, and you could feel your face heating under his gaze. You tried to look away, to laugh it off, but he leaned in closer, his elbow resting on his knee, his face just inches from yours.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, his voice dropping even lower. “Admit it. It’s only fair.”

“Fair?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Yeah. I already told you I used to like you.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest second before finding your eyes again. “Your turn.”

Your heart pounded, your hands freezing in your lap, and you swore the city had gone completely silent around you. His eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unyielding, like he was ready to wait forever if he had to.

And god help you, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run—or pull him closer.

“Pft—it’s not like it’s going to change anything,” you reasoned, though your voice betrayed you, soft and unsteady. You looked away, focusing on the skyline instead of the man sitting far too close, his presence making it impossible to think straight.

Bucky didn’t move for a moment, letting your words hang in the air between you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, quiet—dangerously deliberate. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Your breath caught, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back at him. He was leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. But his eyes—they were locked on you, piercing, like they were unraveling every carefully constructed excuse you’d ever made.

“How is that wrong?” you challenged, though your voice wavered, giving you away.

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that felt like it had been pulled from deep in his chest. “Because,” he said, leaning back again, his arm stretching across the bench behind you, his fingers just brushing your shoulder. “It changes everything.”

Your stomach flipped, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” he shot back, and there was that teasing edge again, soft and warm but dangerous because it was him. “Tell me, doll, what happens if I kiss you right now?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, and you froze, your hands gripping the edge of the bench like it might keep you grounded. 

“You wouldn’t.”

Bucky tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—didn’t waver. He was studying you like you were some sort of puzzle, his gaze tracing every line of your face, every small movement you made.

“Wouldn’t I?” His voice was low, rough, like gravel smoothed over by honey. And god, it wasn’t fair, the way it made your skin prickle, the way it sent your heart into a dizzying spiral.

You turned your head sharply, staring out at the city like it might save you from whatever this was. But it wasn’t saving you. Not with the way he leaned just a little closer, his arm still draped casually over the back of the bench, his fingers now brushing against your shoulder. The heat of him was impossible to ignore.

“No,” you said, your voice firmer this time, but it still wavered at the end. “You wouldn’t.”

He let out a soft laugh, the sound so low and intimate it curled around you like smoke. “Why’s that?”

“Because—” You faltered, your brain scrambling for a reason, for any reason. “Because you’re all talk.”

Bucky’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, his lips curving in that maddening way that made your stomach twist and your chest tighten. 

“All talk?” he repeated, his voice a low murmur that slipped over your skin like silk. “That’s what you think of me?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to look at him, even though you could feel his gaze on you—hot, heavy, and completely unrelenting. Your pulse thundered in your ears, a wild, uneven rhythm that made it impossible to think.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat because suddenly, he moved.

He shifted closer, the bench creaking softly under his weight. His arm stretched further along the backrest, and when you finally glanced at him, he was right there. His face hovered just inches from yours, his blue eyes impossibly intense, locked onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

“How about,” he whispered, his voice low and rough enough to send a shiver racing down your spine, “you kiss me, and I’ll show you.”

You inhaled sharply, awareness flaring through every nerve in your body. Kiss him? God, he wanted you to kiss him? He was so close, his lips so close to yours, his warm breath whispering across your mouth. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, and the faint scent of beer and something unmistakably him made your head spin.

“Kiss me,” he said again, his voice low and almost hoarse. He was hovering near you, so tantalizingly close, but decidedly not kissing you. He was waiting for you to press your lips to his, but coming as close to you as he could. Tempting you, encouraging you, pulling you in.

Do it. The thought whispered through your mind, reckless and insistent. He was so close. So impossibly close. One small shift forward, and—

Instead, you faltered, glancing down at his lips. “You’re bluffing.”

His lips twitched into a small, infuriating smirk. “Try me.”

You felt drawn forward as if by a magnet. Lightly, delicately, you pressed your lips to his, feeling how much you trembled, how insubstantial and frail your kiss felt but unable to do anything more. You lingered for just a moment, and then pulled back, uncertainly.

Bucky remained still, not moving, so close, his chest now against yours. He didn't kiss you, he didn't smile, or say anything, and you felt an unfamiliar tremor of panic rise in you.

“I thought you said you'd show me,” you said ruefully, your cheeks beginning to burn. Had you done it wrong? Could a kiss be wrong? You could barely remember your name right now, let alone how to kiss someone. 

Especially this someone.

“Oh I will,” Bucky whispered. “I'm just waiting for you to really kiss me.”

Something in the timbre of his voice, something in the drowsy desire of his words emboldened you. You leaned forward and kissed him more sensuously, taking his lips with yours, opening your mouth and savouring the fullness of his. And with only the slightest of pauses, Bucky took over.

He leaned against your heavily, almost surging into you, his mouth roaming over yours with a heady, sensual slowness that ignited you. His lips moved over yours possessively, with a slow, languid rhythm as his tongue dipped into your mouth to taste you. When his tongue met yours, you let out a little cry of pleasure, feeling an arrow of desire shoot right down to your core.

He groaned at the sound and dipped his tongue into your mouth and out again rhythmically, as if making love to you. One hand slipped around your back and held you while the other slid up to your breast and felt you, owned you, roamed over you like you were a longed-for prize. He groaned against you, and his kiss deepened into a hot, sensual exploration.

You felt weightless, boneless, all but liquefied by the heat of his mouth on yours and the strength of his hands caressing every part of you. His sounds of pleasure, his soft groans and heavy breathing, every male expression of pleasure made you even more desperate for him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down into you, kissing him with abandon.

There was no time for words, no breath to be stolen for the little flirtations of new lovers, there was simply this kiss. You fell into each other, seeking, needing, as if making up for all the years you had denied yourselves this pleasure. It was never enough, there was never a moment when it seemed right to part, never the need to break and bring lips to skin, or to fumble with clothing. It was all consuming, and erotic enough, this deep, soulful kiss, this meeting of mouths and breath and sounds.

You weren't friends...not now, and not ever, you suddenly knew. You had always been this to each other, always one breath away from this, always one kiss away. .  one breathless, soulful, beautiful kiss.

Finally—finally—when the need for air had peaked, when the thundering of your hearts needed calming, he reluctantly pulled away, his chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. He smiled at you, a soft laugh escaping through his breathing.

“Now that,” he said, bumping his nose against you as his breath finally began to slow. “Is kissing back.”

Your fingers brushing against your own lips as if to confirm what just happened. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks, and you suddenly couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“I—I should probably get home,” you stammered, your voice higher than you intended. “It’s late.”

Bucky’s brow lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he straightened slightly, his hand lingering at your elbow for just a moment before dropping away. “Alright,” he said softly, his voice warm and steady. “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You think I’d let you walk home alone?” His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone shifting to something more serious, though the teasing lilt never fully disappeared. “Not a chance, doll.”

Before you could protest again, he was already on his feet, reaching out a hand to help you up. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers warm around yours, and when you stood, the faintest squeeze sent another ripple of heat through you.

The walk started quietly. The soft noise of crickets filled the summer night, the distant glow of the city lights casting a faint halo on the horizon. The air was thick with unspoken words, every glance and sidelong look charged with the memory of the kiss you’d just shared.

Bucky fell into step beside you, his pace unhurried but purposeful. You noticed it immediately—how he positioned himself closer to the road, his body a silent barrier between you and the passing cars. It was such a small thing, something most people might not even notice, but it made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering taste of his kiss.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy, the kind that made you acutely aware of everything—of the way his shoulder brushed yours every now and then, of the soft scuff of his boots against the pavement, of the way your heart hadn’t quite settled back into its normal rhythm.

And then, without warning, his hand brushed against yours. It was fleeting, accidental, but the spark it sent through you was impossible to ignore. You glanced up at him, your pulse quickening as you caught the way his lips quirked into the faintest smile.

He didn’t say anything—just slipped his fingers through yours, his grip warm and steady, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles. The gesture was so simple, so natural, but it felt monumental, like crossing some invisible line you could never return from.

You couldn’t help but glance at him again, your lips parting to say something—anything—but the words died on your tongue when you saw the way he was looking at you. His expression was soft, almost shy.

He didn’t look away, and neither did you. The streetlights flickered as you walked beneath them, their glow casting golden pools on the sidewalk, but all you could see was him.

“Are you always this quiet after a kiss?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and teasing, though there was a softness to it that made your heart flutter.

Your face heated, and you looked down at your joined hands, your laugh shaky. “Are you always this smug after one?”

He laughs.

“Depends,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again,“Was it good enough to be smug about?”

You shot him a look, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Wow, you’re already smug anyway. . .”

“And yet,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, “you’re still holding my hand.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. Or maybe you did, but it was lost somewhere between the heat of his gaze and the warmth of his palm against yours. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit.

The walk to your door felt like it ended too soon. One moment, the quiet streets were stretching ahead of you, your hand warm in his, and now, here you were—standing on your front step with no excuse to linger.

Your fingers twitched reluctantly as you let go of his hand, the cool night air rushing in where his warmth had been. You caught the faintest flicker of something on his face—hesitation, maybe?—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a soft, crooked smile.

The faint glow of your porch light cast soft shadows across his face, making the lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips seem even sharper, even softer all at once.

“I had so much fun today,” Bucky said, his voice quiet but steady, the kind of low timbre that seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest. “It was so good seeing you.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile even as your heart ached. “Me too.”

He shifted slightly, the smallest movement that still felt impossibly significant. “Good night,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, almost hesitant.

You nodded, your own voice barely above a whisper. “Good night.”

But he didn’t turn to leave. Instead, he lingered, his gaze holding yours like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“You have a sweet dream,” he added, his words softer now, gentler, and they hit you like a warm breeze. His lips tilted into a small, almost bashful smile, and the tenderness in his expression stole whatever breath you had left.

You barely managed to nod, your throat too tight to speak. But before you could even think about what to say, he stepped forward, closing the space between you in one unhurried movement.

His arms wrapped around you, solid and warm, pulling you into him without hesitation. It wasn’t hurried or awkward—it was grounding, steadying, like he’d been waiting all night for this. The scent of him—faintly woodsy, clean, and musky—washed over you as his hands settled lightly on your back, and your face pressed against his chest. You could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing, the strength in the way he held you as though he didn’t want the moment to slip away.

“Good night,” he murmured again, his voice rumbling softly against your hair. His arms tightened slightly before he finally, finally let you go, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary before dropping to his sides.

You stepped back, your heart thundering as you looked up at him. 

You swallowed hard, your lips curving into a smile as you opened your door. “Good night, Bucky.”

As the door clicked shut behind you, you leaned against it, your chest rising and falling as you tried to calm your racing heart. On the other side, you imagined him standing there for just a moment longer, smiling to himself the way he always did when he thought no one was looking.

And somehow, that made everything feel perfect.

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @veronicapaula

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Your works beautiful, so much detail 👍Request: Alastor × female reader. They've been together for a long time; Alastor decides he wants have sex with reader. Reader tells him she's a virgin, which makes him want this occasion to be very special. On the night they plan it, Alastor gets called by his soul owner making him go away before their time together. Alastor's fearing that he won't make it back in time. He makes it back and they have a very romantic sex time. Soft, gentle, lots of kisses.

Trust - Alastor x fem!reader

MATURE CONTENT AHEAD! MINORS DNI!

Hello! Thank you for this request!! Sorry if it came out a bit angsty. I haven't written smut in a while (since the ones posted until this one were written a month ago) and I kind of got more into the emotional side of it. Also, I had this song from TDG stuck in my head while writing this. Hope it's sweet tho!❤️

Words: ~1800 TW: vaginal sex, first time sex, oral (female receiving), fluff and a bit of angst

You thought he forgot. You thought he only filled your head with empty promises, just to make fun of you. To prove to you that he was not going to be tied down to you in any way.

But not now - not when his hands slowly lifted up your shirt, the brief touches sending shivers down your spine. Now, when he kissed you so eagerly, but at the same time so soft, as if not to scare you.

"I thought you left me..." you said, as he stopped, his eyes meeting yours. He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. He didn't blame you for thinking that. Even he didn't believe he would make it back in time - but he was here now.

“I would never willingly leave you behind, my dear. Something…unfortunate arose, but I returned as swiftly as I could.” he captured your lips once again, almost as if the thought of not returning made him miss you, even though you were right there, underneath him.

"Will you ever tell me what's going on?"

You knew Alastor had a deal. Who was the one on the other end remained a mystery. Alastor kept an open heart towards you, the idea of having someone he could open up to was not so dreadful as he thought it would be. But you never pressed things any further. If he wanted to tell you, he would do it himself.

"It's really nothing you should be concerned about, my dear...." he whispered, his soft smile faltering for a moment. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, freezing like this for a moment, your fingers brushing through his hair and occasionally caressing his ears. "I just..." he started, lifting his head slightly to look at you, but something made him stop, his smile reappearing. "Now, now... Let's not destroy the mood, right?"

His lips found yours, hesitant at first, then gradually more assured, every brush of his skin against yours igniting a fire within him. His fingers ghosted over your shirt, pausing as if waiting for unspoken permission, before slowly moving upward, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. A gasp made his ears twitch, as he started playing with your soft boobs, massaging them and occasionally pinching the already hardened nipples.

Alastor's kisses slowly reached your neck, the sensitive skin burning underneath his touch. He needed to let go of all his thoughts - he needed to get lost in the moment. To get lost in you.

He wanted to forget about everything he's ever done: the murders, the deals, the mistakes. He wanted to have you - the only thing that could still make him feel some warmth, something not even he thought was possible anymore. His fingers ghosted over your skin, more reverent than possessive, as if he feared you might vanish.

Your shirt slowly came off, exposing all of you entirely, a soft blush burning on your cheeks. Every little touch of his lips won a gasp from you - his tongue slowly encircling your nipple, while his claws left little trails behind them. His lips traced slow, delicate paths across your skin, lingering as though he could memorize each sensation. Every kiss was a quiet promise.

In a swift move, he took down your panties, leaving you completely vulnerable in front of him. You felt so small, like a deer in front of a wolf. But you weren't scared. And he knew that.

Alastor grabbed your knees, slowly opening your legs, your core glistening in the soft lighting his bayou provided. He ran his hands up and down your thighs as he leaned down, his breath sending shivers through your body.

"Are you trembling because you're scared, my love, or is it something else entirely?" he asked, his voice soft, a hint of amusement in it.

"Just... a bit nervous, I guess..." you whispered back.

He chuckled slightly, the sound of it making you clench slightly around nothing. "There's nothing to worry about, my dear... Now lay there and let me taste you."

Without warning, he gave you a long lick before his lips connected to your core, harshly sucking and eating you up like a starved man. Your hands quickly grabbed his hair, pulling it slightly as moans filled the room. Soft grunts from him made your heart skip a beat, the sight of Alastor between your legs mesmerising you completely.

He abused your sensitive bud with no remorse, your screams of pleasure going unnoticed by the deer demon. He was too lost in the moment, your taste awakening something feral inside of him.

"Ahh~ Shit! Al-Alastor, fuck!" you tried to move, but his claws tightly grabbed you, stopping you from escaping. His tongue flicked over you, the new sensation making you lightheaded. Slowly, he pushed his index finger inside of you, slightly spreading your walls that were desperately clenching around him. His tongue never slowed down, as his finger started pumping in and out of you.

You felt yourself melting into his touch, the sounds of your arousal making his bulge grow with every second. He never thought he would get so weak hearing you like this – vulnerable and begging him to make you feel good. Completely at his mercy and despite all these, you trusted him entirely.

Trust—a concept so foreign, yet here it was. He could shatter it, yet the idea of doing so left him hollow.

Something he earned easily as a way to manipulate others, to destroy them completely when they least expect it. No, he didn’t care about trust. Not when it came to others. But you were there. He could break you, he could torture your soul in ways you never even expected, but you still trusted him. And somehow, a part of him hated it.

He hated it because a part of him knew he would disappoint you. No, he didn’t care if Charlie failed. He didn’t care if that hotel one day just collapsed, taking everyone with it. But failing you...

Alastor's chest tightened. He'd always been the predator, never the prey. Yet, at this moment, the thought of failing you gnawed at him in ways he never imagined. Love was foreign to him — too tender, too vulnerable. But here, with you, it was the only thing that made sense.

It wasn’t just a mere thought that passed his mind from time to time – just a dark possibility that lingered in his mind. It was something that made him go crazy. Just like how he disappointed his mother, it hurt him to the deepest parts of him.

He stopped for a moment, looking up at you, watching as your chest rapidly rose. “Alastor?” you whispered as you tried to regain your composure.

What if he failed his part of the deal? What if he was never going to return to this? What if you were going to get hurt?

He quickly climbed back on top of you. With trembling hands, he gently cupped your face before leaning in, his lips brushing against yours. This kiss felt desperate as if he were savouring what could be the last time, his every move filled with longing. A desperate kiss before you were going to be taken away from him, just like everything he dared to love.

But when he opened his eyes, you were still here, and a part of him got warm again. “Are you sure you want this, my dear?”

You pulled him closer, his forehead resting against yours. “I want you, Alastor… More than anything…” Something in his mind broke. With one hand, he reached for yours, bringing it down to his hard bulge, your face burning at the sudden gesture.

"I never thought I'd be capable of this… of wanting someone as much as I want you," Alastor whispered as you felt his hardness. "You're killing me..." he buried his face into your neck as he quickly unzipped his pants. He didn’t plan to give in so easily, but he needed this. He needed to make sure you were really there. He needed to feel you entirely.

You closed your eyes as his lips placed trails of kisses down your neck, his tip pressed against your core. He slowly moved it in and out, barely entering you, as you winced a bit at the discomfort. It was like a torturous game between pain and pleasure. With every move he entered more and more, stretching you out as soft moans enlightened him.

Alastor pressed his thumb against your clit, circling fast as he went in deeper, careful not to hurt you. Low grunts echoed in your ears as your walls clenched around him. He had to fight back the urge not to pound you into the mattress right there, the slow pace making him go crazy.

Every thrust sent shivers through your body, the way his finger moved against your clit making the coil in your stomach twist. The way he dragged around your sensitive walls made you melt against him, pulling him deeper into your embrace.

His mind was a mess, taking in every detail of this moment. He wanted it to last forever, to feel you there with him until you both would die once again, whatever that could mean for a sinner. Because maybe this time, he would die happy.

His pace quickened, your wetness gushing around his cock as you felt yourself getting closer. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers slowly tugging at his hair. Your moans were everything he could think of, flooding his mind like a sweet melody.

A deep thrust made you cry out in pleasure as he never stopped abusing that sweet spot. His name was everything you could think of as you tightly clenched around him, the waves of pleasure making your body spasm against his bigger frame. And, despite his attempt to engulf himself more in this moment, it was enough for him to finish. With powerful thrusts he spilt his cum inside of you, filling you up entirely.

You sat there, watching him as his body went numb against yours, pulling you closer towards him. You knew there was something he pushed in the back of his mind, something he would never tell you unless ready to. So you just pulled him closer, at least making him feel a bit relieved.

“I love you, Alastor…” you whispered, as his ears twitched slightly at the words. He pulled you closer, wanting to feel that warmth you never failed to provide for him.

“I…” The words were right there, lodged in his throat. He had never spoken them before, not with this kind of weight. What was he without the walls he built around himself? But as his gaze locked with yours, the warmth in your eyes broke him down, word by word. You cooed him, running your hand through his hair, his breath soft.

“I don’t want you to leave me too, my dear…”

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @xghostnuggsx @vxllys

@ustulia @n0tmentallystable @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog @alastorthirsty

@l3rittany @catticora

[felixbit]

songwriter

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader w. 0.7k genre: fluff summary: your boyfriend jisung's birthday is right around the corner and you have the brilliant idea to make him a song. you learn it's not easy, and you begin to worry it won't work out. warnings: reader overthinks and gets a bit insecure, jisung is of course there to reassure a/n: im so sorry this one is so short!! i promise i'll make up for it with a better hanji fic in the future. felix fic coming tomorrow!

Being a songwriter's partner has benefits.

Every new Stray Kids album that would come out would have some sappy love song written by your boyfriend, Han Jisung. He would send it to you after the album would drop, asking if you liked it. He would then reveal that it was about you, and you had to act surprised.

Of course you loved all his songs. They were beautifully crafted and every single thing made your heart go wild. He put words to feelings you didn't know you had. But, he was so painfully obvious.

His birthday was coming up, and you had a great idea: what if you wrote him a song?

As it turned out, it was a little harder than you expected.

Lines were so hard to piece together and it was near impossible to make proper rhyme schemes. Jisung's ability to write a song was quickly becoming even more impressive than it already was. Even when you started to get lyrics on paper, you had to figure out how it was supposed to be sung.

Whenever Jisung went to the studio, you took special care to see just how he put together melodies. You tried to ask inconspicuous questions, and so far hadn't risen suspicion. You'd settled on trying to figure out playing his guitar instead of doing anything fancy with production.

Learning guitar chords had your fingers aching and sore. Building up calluses and memorizing just where to place your fingers in a short amount of time was no small task. But, you had basic chord progressions down in a few weeks and were on your way to something.

You'd let Chan and Changbin in on the secret of the birthday song, and you were eternally grateful when Chan extended an invite to use their studio. He gave you a ride, showing you inside and some basic functions of how to record.

Even if you didn't end up recording the song, the space was perfect for sitting and conceptualizing music. You had the lyrics pretty much solid, even if you questioned their quality every time you read them.

Halfway through trying to run through the song, anxiety started to creep up on you. Jisung's birthday was tomorrow, and you couldn't decide if you liked the song enough to show him.

Another half an hour of brainstorming, and you were tempted to scrap the song entirely. Everything you had come up with in your head wasn't sounding right when you tried it aloud. How could it compare to his songs?

You heard the studio door open, turning and expecting to see Chan. Instead, standing in the doorway looking perplexed was Jisung himself.

"Jagi, what are you doing here?" Jisung looked at you suspiciously before approaching the couch you were sat on.

You pulled the guitar out of your lap and propped it up against the couch. Shit. "Oh, you know.. you come here often?"

Jisung let out a loud laugh, sitting down next to you and scooting closer. "Your one-liners won't distract me. Why are you here? I mean, I don't mind you being in the studio, but.."

"I.." You looked down at the lyrics still pulled up on your phone screen before handing it over to your boyfriend, "I was doing this."

His eyes scanned over the lyrics a few times with a perplexed look before they shifted back to you. "These are.. lyrics, did you write this?"

Fidgeting, you nodded. "Yeah.. I was thinking it'd be a good thing for your birthday. If I wrote you a song."

Jisung stopped for a moment and looked at you, stunned. "A song? For my birthday? Honey.."

"I know, it's not great, really nothing compared to yours, but-"

"I love it."

You looked up to him, taking your eyes off the floor. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. "You do?"

"I mean, it's really sweet. These lyrics, they're... I don't even know how you put these words together in the way you did. The feeling is so real, I didn't think I could feel that through words on a screen like that."

You felt your heart swell in your chest, leg bouncing as your eyes drifted back to the floor. "I mean, it's not that good.."

Jisung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Don't give me that! It's the best! I would say it's just as good of a birthday present if you'd let me work on actually recording this with you and making it a full song."

"Really?"

Pulling you into a kiss, Jisung smiled. "Yeah! Now, would you please play it for me?"

[dubina-dawkins]

THE LAST TIME

~1k words

>you find out dean is going to die soon. and he wants to spend his last meeting with you well.

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! set in the 2nd half of the 3rd season, may be kinda angsty, oral (f!receiving), fingering, gn/afab reader, no usage of y/n

REBLOGS WILL BE APPRECIATED!

You were shocked.

Starting from scratch...you and Dean ended on a bad note. Horrible notes. If those notes were put together into a song, it would be the ugliest melody known to man.

You really wanted to help him find his father, you could have - but somehow Dean thought it was too dangerous. Like you two weren't both hunters when you were kids.

But you still forgave him when he hadn't been around for weeks... months. years. You called, and he didn't pick up, changed numbers.

And then you just find out that the Winchesters opened the gates of hell. It was enough to shock you. But it was compounded by the way he and his brother just showed up at your hotel room - they probably found out where you were from Bobby - and in casual fashion just decided to help you with the case. And Dean, as if inadvertently, on your refusal, threw in the fact that he'd be dead in less than six months.

This case wasn't easy, yeah. You've never dealt with real demons before, honestly. Werewolves, vampires, wendigos, ghosts of all kinds-- but no demons. A bunch of demons took over an entire town. You couldn't have done it alone, yes; but with news like this, it was impossible to focus on the case.

Dean could have died so soon, and you still spent those few years just waiting for him. If you wanted to, you would have been there. You could have fixed it-- it tormented you.

"You know, it'd be funny if I died without ever fucking you again."

He said it with a smile, as if it were no business at all. You'd known him for so long that you definitely realized how strained that smile was. On Dean Winchester's smile sincerity scale, which rated a pure and genuine laugh at ten, this smile you rated at one and a half at most.

But you also knew that this distraction...it wouldn't hurt you both, to be honest.

You were cuddling on a decrepit motel bed. Sam is somewhere in the library, trying to find something you haven't found yet. You rest your nose in his hair, resting your hand on his jaw, lifting his head slightly. "I always knew you were a jerk, Winchester, but not this much."

It's his turn to silence your complaints with his lips as he raises his head sharply. And you don't resist at all. Why would you ever resist?

You didn't notice the moment the gentle cuddling turned into something more sultry.

His hands all over your body, as if he was trying to imprint every cell of your body in his head, to memorize every mole and hollow and bulge.

Where before he'd been lying against your shoulder, now you were under him, tangling your fingers in his short hair. There was nowhere to tangle, and yet you were doing it.

"I'm not letting you go. No fucking hell, you're stuck here with me," you whisper in his ear, kissing his temple and cheekbones. Dean can only grin as he moves down to your neck. He knows there's no way out, thanks to Ruby for opening his eyes.

But he doesn't say anything back, just mumbles into your skin about how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how he fucking loves you. Like you don't know that.

A few long moments of his worship of your body, and Dean is already pulling the waistband of your unbuttoned jeans and underwear down with his teeth. A few long moments of his worship of your body, and Dean's teeth are pulling the waistband of your unbuttoned jeans down, along with your underwear, and the black lace falls to the floor along with the denim as he bumps his nose against the inside of your thighs, stopping abruptly.

He inhales your scent and visibly shakes. His breathing is shaky, like he's ready to cry. He knows for sure that the only thing he'll remember in hell is Sam and you.

"Dean?" You call out, gently lowering your hand to caress his cheek and lift his face up by his chin. He rests his head on your stomach and kisses the soft skin, smirking.

"Forget it, baby" And he lowers himself sharply, pouncing on you like he's starving. His tongue first passes from bottom to top, licking away the moisture of your arousal, then flicks the clit a few times until Dean's lips press against it, sucking. Vacuum drives you crazy, that's for sure.

He knows how to do it, and you know it. And over time, he clearly hasn't lost his skills, although your brain pushes the idea that his tongue could be in someone other than you away.

Dean doesn't hold back, he literally whimpers. He missed it as much as you did, maybe more. His thick fingers play with your slit until one middle finger slips into the wet walls, and he literally moans in pleasure.

"Still just as supple," he whispers, sending vibrations through your lower abdomen, the fingers of his free hand stroking your waist and stomach as he returns to your clit and wet folds.

His finger doesn't give you a break; God, his finger alone could replace any toy, honestly. Especially when he pushes the second one in and pauses for a few seconds to make sure you're okay with the shift, but when your hands roughly clutch his hair in your fist, he knows he's doing it right and goes back to the same pace.

You're on the verge of release, of edge--

"Baby, baby, love, let it out, come on..." He growls, encouragingly - but lightly, nonchalantly - spanking your ass. And God, that was the last straw as you squeak his name loudly, clutching his head between your thighs.

But if this was his last sex with you in his life, he wasn't gonna stop so soon.

A/N: unexpected dean winchester smut :D wasn't on my today's to-do list but i needed it. divider made by @bernardsbendystraws .

thx for active on my past works <3

[fiona-my-love]

I meant general relationship hcs! Can I request for hcs of what they’re like on a date when you're done with my request? Thanks!

What Stolas, Husk, Blitzo, and Alastor are like on dates

Of course! I’ll finish this first since it’s what I thought what you meant originally, so I already made some of it!!

Stolas

- Oh my! You want to go out with him? Well, then he might as well prepare an entire festival for you!!

- But in all seriousness, he’s quite over the top. But at the end of the day, he kind of prefers to stay indoors and just decorate.

- But it’s pretty 50/50, depends on his mood! He’ll either treat you to a fancy restaurant or just decorate his dining hall for you, and end the date off with you two heading to the bedroom. ifykyk

- Despite being a horny bastard, he’s quite the gentleman on dates!

- He’ll always be courteous to you, opening each door for you and paying the bill.

- He’s pretty good at giving compliments, you gotta admit. He knows just how to fluster you!

- But say anything back and he’s lovestruck, beet red, and turned on.

- He thinks you look absolutely ravishing, no matter what you wear! You’re his queen/king/royal, how could you not be stunning?

- Very good with small talk, but he can get burnt out if you don’t talk much. Just make sure to seem interested in him and you’ll have a great time!

Blitzo

- He’s.. quite creative, you have to admit!..

- His dates are rarely something as simple as getting lunch. Nono, he wants them to be memorable.

- So, what’s his idea of memorable? Hmm..

- Sneaking into a horse riding class on earth. Murder. Arson. Treason. Theft. Public indecency.

- So yeah.. have fun with that!

- But at the end of the day, one of his favorite things to do with you is just kick back, relax, order some food, and cuddle on the couch while watching shitty romcoms.

- He doesn’t really care what you guys do, honestly. You guys could literally be sky diving and he’d just be happy to be with you.

*LITERALLY FALLING FROM AN AIRPLANE THATS HUNDREDS OF FEET IN THE SKY*

“OH SHI- Hey, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?”

- But at the same time, he likes it when dates mean something.

- For example, murdering your ex together!

- But seriously, he loves to just spend time with you in places you went to when you were still in the crushing phase.

Alastor

- Oh boy! He’s quite the gentleman, he’ll take you anywhere you want! It’s not like anyone can turn him down!

- Loves dancing with you, he’d absolutely adore to go on a date where you two just dance to his favorite songs!

- He’s always dressed to the nines! And by that, I mean dressed to the 1900s!

- Not particularly a fan of newer fashion. But hey, he’d be more than happy to fetch you some clothing from his time period if you so wish!

- He spoils you absolutely rotten! You are his one and only, after all!

- Oh, what’s that darling? You’d like some dinner? Why, of course! He’d say, before going on a killing spree, on the search for the perfect meat. Only the finest for his beloved!

- Would absolutely melt if you cooked for him.

- He actually enjoys cooking with you! He’s pretty good at cooking, and by that I mean he’s good at cooking people.

- All in all, he’s a classy guy who likes to show his darling the finer parts of this afterlife!

Husk

- Let’s get one thing straight. He’s just not really all that romantic of a guy.

- But hey, if you want to go out, then who is he to deny you?

- He’d be more than happy to spend some of his hard-earned gambling money to treat you to a lovely dinner at the local bar.

- He’s gotta admit, he loves the way you get so happy whenever you go out together.

- And my god does he love to see you dressed up all fancy, just for him. As much as he is a grump, he’s really fell for you!

- If you go shopping together, he’ll act annoyed when he has to help carry your bags, but if you offer to carry them all by yourself he’d act like you’re asking too much of him.

- He also acts reluctant to spend money on you out of embarrassment, but he refuses to let you pay for anything.

- He may be a bit of a gentleman with you, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotta be happy about it!

- He really likes going to bars with you. Shots on him, obviously.

- To give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s really trying to be a gentleman, but don’t expect him to last more that an hour without getting blackout drunk.

[lxvebun]

Sleepy mornings with Suguru brainrot😩🩷

Notes: fics are a little less edited and checked because I don't have access to my pc rn. So I hope it still looks okay!

Content: Suguru x gender neutral reader. Sickeningly sweet morning fluff! Kissing. Consensual kisses while asleep/half asleep. Eng is not my first language. Not entirely proofread lmk if there are any annoying mistakes!

Suguru is an early riser. He finds comfort in getting up at dawn. birds softly chirping their morning song and air crisp and fresh, gently swaying the curtains as the sunlight filters through . The moment the star clustered dark blue sky begins to show orange and golden streaks of sunlight, he's out of bed and running about doing household chores that really can wait until later but he insists on doing now.

Now while the air still feels fresh, now that it's early enough to set the tone for the day. His heart beats a little easier knowing everything is taken care of. Knowing you are taken care of. Even in the smallest of ways like cleaning up last nights dishes so you awake to a nice and clean kitchen, or putting the throw blanket into the dryer so it's nice and toasty for when you eventually stumble out of the safety and warmth of your bed to face the morning breezes coming through the kitchen window

He doesn't enter the bedroom again other than occasionally peeking his head through the crack of the door when he hears you move. Busy wiping down the kitchen counters or watering the flowers. footsteps coming through in your dreams.

All while your sleepy self is missing his body warmth, the rise of his chest against your back and the comforting weight of his arms around your waist. You're not cold, he made sure of that by tucking you in just a little more before leaving the bed. Leaving behind a constellation of kisses to your warm cheeks and sleep ridden eyelids, airy chuckles floating around the room as you whine for him to stay just for 5 more minutes. His Kisses are laced with tenderness and adoration intertwined with silent prayers soothing you back to sleep. you prefer his warmth over the cozyness of the blankets, but in your sleepy haze you'll settle for it for now.

This goes on until it's around the time you usually get out of bed, something his own internal clock has memorized for you as well.

Only then he'll crawl back in bed with you, breakfast ready to be prepared in the kitchen, a mug of hot tea with honey on your nightstand, words of affection and sickeningly sweet kisses resting on his lips and arms wide open for you to crawl into<3

Oh to have the privilege of seeing sleepy suguru early in the morning😩🩷

[megistusdiary]

hiii! can i be 🕊️ anon? anyway,, what about s/o!fem!reader x s/o!arlecchino short fic w/ reader being able to play an instrument, possibly the piano or a guitar. and then one day, arle comes home after a long day of work to find reader playing (instrument) in their shared bedroom, and arle just stands there and watches them and then when reader is done, they turn around to find arle smiling (mischievously) and melts, super embarrassed idk im having brainrot 😭 i NEED more arlecchino content. ive already read everything i found

hi, omg. yes ofc you can be 🕊 anon!! welcome to my blog ✨️

that's such a cute concept. personally, i'd like to believe arlecchino can play the violin or piano too, so imagine a future duet 🤭

imagine living together in arle's fancy home, and it's her piano in your shared room, and then she finds you playing, which makes it extra special, right?? 😁

also, girl, i HEAR you. literally only came back to writing because there was a serious lack of content for all the pretty women. someone's gotta do it 🫡 i hope this is alright for you

arlecchino x fem!pianist ⋆.࿔*

contents: fluff, wlw pairing, reader plays piano

arlecchino walked into the door with a million problems on her mind, as per usual. she was silent as she tossed her jacket onto a nearby chair, rolling her sore shoulders and neck, eyebrows still furrowed from frustration.

her thoughts were as tense as her muscles, only to relax involuntarily when she heard soft music coming from the bedroom.

she took careful steps, minimizing the click of her heels on the tile towards the beautiful music. she instantly recognized the piece being played; one of her personal favorites that she had memorized the sheet music for entirely.

the bedroom door was already open partially, allowing music to flood out into the hallway. she slowly pushed the door further open, completely silent as she leaned against the doorframe.

her eyes fell upon you at her grand piano, a rather expensive and elegant model. arlecchino often played in the evenings for you or vice versa, though she had never heard you play when you assumed you were alone.

the stress from her day's work slowly melted from her face with each press of the keys from your fingers. she admired how elegant you looked at this moment, how you seemed to be completely pulled into the music, so focused you hadn't yet recognized her presence.

the corners of her lips quirked up as you neared the end of the song, the part you knew was her favorite. subconsciously, you drew it out longer, causing her heart to swell within her chest.

once the song was over, the minute you turned around, you let out a soft gasp, nearly falling off the piano bench. "you scared me! how long were you there?" your voice was rushed, embarrassment clear on your face.

her arms were folded over her chest, a slight smirk on her lips. "nice to see you too. you play beautifully." she walks over to you, leaning down over where you sat.

the way you looked up at her so sweetly had her melting, tilting your chin up to kiss your forehead. "did you mean to draw that last part out, or did you forget how the song ends?" she teased as she leaned back up.

she relished in the way you turned away, ears heating up as you stood up from the bench. "ah, forget it! i'm all done! the piano is yours!" you huffed, stomping away, leaving her to chuckle dryly at your retreating form.

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

🎵 Whoooo wants a nice little short 'n sweet post-Prime one shot with Sonic and Tails and some angst and also fluff and cuddles and nightmares and sadness and cuteness and the implementing of that one headcanon from the post I made about Sonic getting more cuddly and clingy when he's hurt or upset??? 🎵

Sonic Prime - Healing Hugs

Something had happened in the cave with Sonic. Tails was absolutely certain of it.

At first, it had just been pleasant changes, pleasant surprises. Sonic had suddenly switched to being a 100% team player, had started paying attention to each and every thing Tails instructed, and seemingly communicated with Shadow just as the Ultimate Lifeform arrived out of nowhere to Chaos Control the Paradox Prism to who-knows-where.

Then there had been the more weird changes.

Every time Tails opened his mouth, Sonic would drop everything to listen to every word with laser focus, even if it was about something as simple as what he was going to get for dinner or some cool comics he'd read. He was giving a lot more hugs, too, far more than usual. Sonic used to be a lot more selective about physical affection, but now, Tails couldn't seem to get through 30 minutes of a day without his older brother scooping him up in an embrace, however brief. Not that he was complaining, it was nice.

He kept catching the hedgehog lying around in the grass, fingering the green leaves with utter delight in his eyes. Once he found him on the beach, sitting in a palm tree and singing some kind of pirate-y sounding song. Another time he found him wandering slowly around the woods nearby, talking to the flickies about how pretty the trees were.

Something was off, but Tails couldn't put his finger on it. From his perspective, he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary happen during the battle in the cave, but Sonic's change in behavior made it painfully obvious something had.

Especially when the more negative changes started manifesting.

Not negative in a sense that Sonic was doing anything wrong. But he seemed . . . a little rattled. Some of his hugs were far more than just quick side squeezes. Sometimes he'd stare at Tails with an oddly pensive, faraway look in his eyes.

In bed, one night about a week after the cave incident, Tails found himself tossing and turning. These thoughts were driving him up the wall with how often they'd been occupying his mind lately.

He wanted so badly to sit down with Sonic and ask him what happened. He knew something had happened. But whether Sonic was willing to talk about it was another question entirely. He knew something was different, but he also knew his brother. Sonic didn't like uncomfortable conversations. If he felt unsafe, he would run.

Tails knew better than to confront him with questions that Sonic would likely not want to answer. If he'd wanted to tell Tails what was going on, what was different, he probably would've told him already.

With an exhausted sigh, Tails gave up trying to sleep and sat up in bed, casting a quick glance at the digital clock on his nightstand.

3:47 a.m.

Great. Even when I'm not working on a project, I STILL end up sleep-deprived. He smirked. At least Sonic can't get ticked at me this time, it's not my fault.

Speaking of the Blue Devil, he was right down the hall. Conked out on the couch, where he often slept. In fact, he'd been sleeping there every night for the past week.

Since he couldn't sleep, anyway, Tails slipped out of bed and crept down the hall, having memorized which boards creaked and which ones didn't. He half-hoped Sonic was awake so he'd have someone to talk to, but as he emerged into the living room, he saw his brother sound asleep, half-curled on his side.

Tails blinked and looked closer.

Sonic was asleep, but . . . he was also clinging extra tightly to his pillow. And he looked . . . incredibly stressed.

Was he having a bad dream?

Tails took a couple steps towards the couch until he stood right beside it. In past experiences where he'd found his brother having a nightmare, talking it out rarely helped. Sometimes even waking him up didn't help, either. He usually just wound up disoriented and panicking, and sometimes even ran off to deal with his feelings alone out in the wilderness.

Tails really didn't want him to leave. He also didn't want him to be alone.

He reached out and ever so gently placed his hand over Sonic's clenched fist, both ungloved.

One thing he had discovered about his brother during hard times like this was that he became more clingy. On the rare occasion he was visibly upset, he'd sometimes come up and just hug Tails without a word. When he was sick or injured somehow (and actually allowing himself to be taken care of), he tended to snuggle more. If he was in enough pain, he'd hold onto Tails as tightly as he could. Sometimes he'd do the same with their other friends, but Tails was always his go-to.

Not that it happened very often. Tails only knew these things because he'd known Sonic for most of his life. Sonic had raised him. He'd seen more of Sonic than anyone else had.

Now, he rubbed a finger over his brother's fist for a moment, then very carefully tugged the pillow out of Sonic's unconscious grasp. He set it softly on the floor, then carefully clambered onto the couch next to him, lay down, and hugged him tightly.

Without waking up, Sonic wrapped his arms around him in return and held him close, burying his face between Tails's ears with a barely audible whimper.

Tails could feel his brother's heartbeat racing, so he snuggled in closer and softly began to purr.

And, with time, he felt Sonic start to calm down.

A couple minutes went by, and his heart rate slowed down just a bit. The tension coiled throughout his entire body started to unwind, and his spiked-up quills lowered slightly in a more relaxed position. His ears were still kinda droopy, but he seemed a lot more restful than he had a few minutes ago.

Tails smiled, still bundled up tightly against Sonic. And his smile only grew wider when he felt his brother start purring, too.

There was something infinitely comforting about being held, about snuggling with his brother, the person who loved him to the moon and back. The person he loved in exactly the same way. For those moments, the very problems that had been keeping Tails awake half an hour earlier seemed to fade. He was here, Sonic was here, no words were spoken or needed, and they would be okay.

Tails slept soundly for the rest of the night.

-

The sound of flickies singing from the treetops woke Sonic the next day. He blinked blearily as his eyes came into focus, and he realized that Tails had joined him sometime during the night.

Once upon a time, waking up to find him right there had made him jump. It didn't anymore.

He smiled, carefully adjusting one hand so he could stroke his little brother's bangs and give him a tiny scratch behind one ear. Tails mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, and snuggled closer in Sonic's chest.

He grinned wider. Tails hadn't been snuggly to this level in a while. Granted, he'd always been the more snuggly one of the two of them, but still. It kind of reminded Sonic of the first couple years he'd been taking care of Tails, when the kit was between 3 and 4 years old.

His smile faded a little as he thought of Nine at that age, still alone, still being bullied and hurt, with no one to save him and show him the love and care he deserved.

He could only hope that the other Shatterverse variants were showing him such kindness now. The thought that he would never get to see him again made his heart ache in a way he couldn't quell.

Sonic studied Tails's sleeping face, noting the intense similarities and differences between him and Nine. He wondered whether Nine had always existed even before the Shatter event, as a part of his little brother that Tails would never bring to light. Was it the same with Mangey and Sails?

A tiny snort escaped him against his will as he thought about whether Mangey's existence was an implication that a part of Tails just wanted to go a little feral. Sometimes he couldn't blame him.

His suppressed laugh had Tails stirring, blinking open his big blue eyes. He looked back at Sonic, grinning sleepily. "G'morning."

Sonic ruffled his bangs again, smiling as Tails giggled. "G'morning, little buddy."

Stop calling me that!

He froze at the memory of Nine's angry shout, and Tails clearly saw it.

"Are you okay?" he asked with a gentle, inquiring frown, slowly sitting up.

Sonic sighed as he sat up as well, leaning back to stretch, then pulled his little brother close again. "I've got a story for you, bud," he admitted, deciding it was about time to open up about what had really happened in the cave.

Tails gazed up at him with surprise, but then smiled and nodded.

"I'm listening," he replied quietly.

AO3 version

Did I come up with this while hugging a giant pillow during my nap earlier today? Maybe :3

I also maybe just really wanted to implement that headcanon somewhere teehee

[chaifootsteps]

that tweet anon shared with the analysis clip - the guy's not entirely wrong that if Stolas said 'what can I do to prove [his love] to Blitz', Blitz wouldn't know what it would take

but here's the thing - Stolas doesn't even ask. He doesn't even make a commitment that he wants to prove it to Blitz no matter what, he doesn't promise to be better to prove it, he doesn't even give Blitz a minute to process his own feelings

Look My Way Stolas had the dramatic turning point that he was going to try to make amends for how he'd made Blitz 'a means to an end' (probably because Paranoid DJ wrote it, not Viv, and removing that moment wrecks the impetus of the whole song). Even When I See Him Stolas recognized he had behaved monstrously

but when it comes to the moment of truth Stolas wasn't interested in doing much more than ending the deal, then expecting Blitz's love immediately in return. There's such a disconnect here where in both songs Stolas is concerned he's treated Blitz badly, yet he doesn't consider maybe Blitz needs time to trust he means what he says and that he (Stolas) needs to be the one to put the effort in this time

but he just doesn't do that. It doesn't matter to Stolas that Blitz is the one who's bent over backwards to please him in bed all this time in order to keep his business going and the most effort Stolas has put in has been wishy-washy texts where he won't come out and say what he actually wants and is incapable of connecting with Blitz on any real level because he doesn't recognize the power imbalance and fails to take much real accountability for it

in Stolas' head Blitz may have been hurt but it doesn't matter that much, because ultimately the relationship he wants isn't that difference than the one he had. he wants Blitz putting in all the work to make him feel wanted and to validate his feelings. in his head Blitz's feelings are just confusing and inscrutable (and ultimately they don't matter that much) even though he's had several opportunities now where he could have conversed with him. Blitz gave him that on a silver platter in apology tour and Stolas bungled it again. like yes he was drunk but ditching to make out with another guy is really the sign of where his priorities lie

saying 'oh Blitz is too traumatized anyway to accept it if Stolas treated him well' or 'it's Blitz's fault for not indicating what he needs to hear to believe it' is shifting the blame again, because Stolas never asked about what Blitz needs or showed any signs of caring.

they have Stolas say 'we really must converse' in the duet but when the scene comes, he makes no attempt at doing that. he freaks Blitz out taking the book back, does a big grandstanding romantic gesture where he just talks at Blitz and then when Blitz doesn't immediately trust it's genuine (understandable) Stolas avoids the opening to converse with him and instead immediately shuts down because in his own words, he's got his 'answer'

that's not a conversation, that's a binary 'do you want me or not' proposition that Blitz clearly wasn't expecting or ready for

and after that Stolas just jumps right into 'I feel hurt therefore I'm the one who's been wronged', gaslights Blitz horrifically then still rejects him when there was yet another opportunity to talk

tl:dr but Stolas was never interested in proving anything to Blitz. He treats him like a slot machine where he assumes treating him with the basic respect of ending the deal entitles him to Blitz's love, immediately as he wants it and how he wants it

To sum it all up, here's a quote that Stolas and this fandom could both stand to memorize.

[keshetchai]

Greetings Friend,

I hope you can help me

How did you go about learning Hebrew? As in what resources, classes, books etc. did you use to get a handle on the language?

I really struggle with languages, so I was hoping you had some advice or tips.

As a bit of background, I am currently a conversion student, going on almost 2.5 years now. I have long since completed the formal learning requirement with my synagogue (conservative) and according to my rabbis, I am free to attend the Beit Din and Mikvah whenever I so choose.

I know my neshama is Jewish, I know this is who I am/supposed to be. I know because of some unusual childhood experiences, and then when I started converting most aspects of the learning and practices came so naturally (granted nowhere near an orthodox level of observance, which isn’t necessarily the goal at this time, but certainly not something I am opposed to perusing) except for the languages.

As previously stated my rabbis say it is okay but something is holding me back from taking that final plunge (lol), and I believe it’s the language.

I still bench in English, and find it really stressful to attend services because I can barely muddle my way around the liturgy, or songs during a Shabbat dinner.

Of course this is just a personal hang up, and absolutely no criticism or shame on anyone else who converted without knowing/knowing very little of the language. Just, for some reason it just doesn’t feel right. I cannot bring myself to say I am actually a member of this wonderful, beautiful tribe before I have overcome this hurdle.

So… any advice?

A few answers for you, the first is most important:

Very Early On in my studying, one of the two rabbis at my synagogue wasn't leading and so she sat in the back, and I decided to sit next to her because i was still finding my footing in the basic service.

And at one point, it may have been for mi hamocha, the cantor starts with a NEW tune I don't know, and I'm still relying on the transliteration entirely and was still trying to memorize the FIRST tune.

And my rabbi leans over and whispers to me: "I have never heard this tune before in my life either."

And the anxiety broke, then. I didn't know this version for the song already and I was lost. But the rabbi sitting next to me also didn't know this tune.

Being Jewish is about always learning something new, even if you are encountering the same thing you've seen or done before dozens or hundreds of times. THAT is being Jewish. Rereading the same book every year and the same passages over and over, but still being a little lost or even finding something you never knew before?

That is being a Jew.

Jews may open a siddur and know what they'll find there, but we do not open it and expect to know everything about how that material is used or applied. And we don't feel a guarantee that life will not teach us something new today, or that someone's minhag won't be totally different from ours. Jews may know the Torah, they may even choose to memorize the mitzvot by heart, but we don't expect this memorization will ensure we never have a halakhic question in life!

So you see, the big scary fact is this: you might become a fluent reader of prayer book Hebrew, you might someday daven entirely in Hebrew, or even graduate rabbinical school, but still sometimes be thrown into being a stranger to something, even something you thought you knew.

But when you identify this and then embrace it, it becomes less scary and part of your Jewish identity. Being perfectly settled, fixed in your knowledge or your thinking or your skills — it honestly doesn't feel terribly Jewish to me.

And for many people born as Jews this can manifest as a type of reflexive embarrassment or self-consciousness for failing at jewishness somehow or having less knowledge for one reason or another. It can make folks defensive or ashamed or feel frustrated for the disconnect. I'm here to tell you that as converts we get the chance to illustrate joyfully that no Jew knows everything Jewish, and that is the experience of being Jewish. The biggest thing holding any of us back from learning the things we don't know is

a) being afraid to seem not Jewish enough or

b) being afraid to not know something

I have excellent news for your (and my) anxiety:

A) almost all Jews worry about how Jewish they seem in some fashion or another so that's normal and,

B) since only hashem knows everything, our job is to not know everything, but to be willing to learn anything. Also we're better in numbers! Two heads are better than one and a minyan is better than that! Everyone doesn't know something, but none of us are alone as Jews. Which is why we become Jewish in community, and not alone. Because someone else might know what we don't!

Get it?

Step #1: you have to jump feet first into not already knowing something perfectly and start knowing less but learning more.

If you are reading the English words and English translations to daven, this means you need to stop. This was your training wheel. And you are not finding your own balance relying on it.

If your siddur has transliterations of the hebrew, bring a little index card next time and cover up the English as you daven for a start. I familiarized myself with the Hebrew because I was saying everything in Hebrew out loud every single time. Once you know the shema by heart more or less (for example), all you have to do is learn the alphabet to prompt your memory to progress further in your Hebrew learning.

That's how kids learn any language. We speak before reading as children. So speak and chant and sing in Hebrew. Whisper the Hebrew. As you get more comfortable, learning to read Hebrew will be an exercise you can even do during the middle of shabbat.

Because you know what the prayer says, and you just need to match the words you see to the sounds you know.

Step #2: know the aleph bet before you attempt reading comprehension of all words.

Things that I used to learn the aleph bet:

Hebrew scripts (the app by drops)

Write it! Hebrew app

Victoria Hanna's The Aleph Bet Song (Hosha'na) because uh she sings the aleph bet and pronounces it

Behrman House Books: Hineni: prayerbook Hebrew for adults; aleph isn't tough! For adults. The kids stuff is good too, I'm not ashamed to say I own "time to read Hebrew!" 1&2

(The Hebrew by inbal on Amazon looks new but good possibly?)

If you want a siddur set up specifically to practice matching transliteration and Hebrew aleph bet, I recommend Chayim Alevsky's My Siddur (choose the minhag variant you use! I bought the Sephardic/Israeli as I don't use ashkie pronunciations.

There will be slight differences of you're used to liberal inclusion of say, the matriarchs, but in general this is a solid practice book for anyone. Transliteration is given word by word, with full word blocks reading in the same direction as Hebrew. At the bottom of the page certain (possibly newer to the learner) words will be defined.

It also now has an app which looks like this:

So you see this is pairing the reading direction of Hebrew words with the sounds spelled out in English to strengthen your Hebrew. If you try to read the transliteration in the English direction word by word, you'll be reading it backwards and starting with v'kayahm, instead of "modeh" (or "modah" feminine). Further even if you're starting correctly with modeh, the English word is still left to right over the Hebrew right to left. so this forces you to be attentive to the Hebrew itself and slow down word by word!

The layout in the print versions means you can cover up the transliteration to test your learning of certain words, and only check if you forget.

I still am not perfect at everything and I truthfully attentively practice Chinese far more than Hebrew reading, but this is what helped me.

Good luck!

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Equinox (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Hello hello! I wanted to write something quick and fluffy just to kind of get back into the swing of writing, so who better to do that with me than my favorite scrungly guy. I will also say, now that seeing him face to face, I write Falk a little differently, so hopefully you enjoy the slight changes I've made to his character. More of a bigger posting update will be coming soon, thank you for reading!!

WARNINGS: None

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

The hallways were abuzz with an unusual rush of energy as you made your way down to the library. You set off to your usual morning tasks: reshelving books, organizing the checkout logs, and doing some light dusting. You stumbled across a group of girls excitedly looking out the windows at the front gates. They call your name when you come into view, one of them jogging over to you, taking your hand, and tugging you in their direction. “I'm surprised you're not down there waiting,” one of them giggles when she notices the confused expression passing over your features, “someone doesn't know what day it is.” She follows up in a sing-song tone.

“What do you mean I don't know what day it is? It's the twenty… first…” Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you state the date out loud. 

“Mhm.” She draws out her hum, giving you a playful smirk. 

“I, um… excuse me, ladies, there's something I forgot to handle.” You respond with a bashful chuckle before slipping away. “I am such an idiot!” you exclaim to yourself. You jog down the hallway. Hopefully, there weren't too many people down at the front gate. You had been waiting for them… for him to come home for weeks.

The Autumnal Equinox was always a bit hectic around The Abbey. Sabbats always tended to get everyone a little too rowdy, and this time would be no different. You heard shouts from the kitchen and orders to make sure all the chefs had enough prep for the special meal The Abbey prepares for the Siblings every holiday. The Great Hall doors were open, and last-minute decorations were meticulously placed around the room. It seems like everyone is putting in their best effort to make the celebration of the Equinox something special.

However, you couldn't have been less concerned with the party if you tried. There had been only one thought in your head about seeing him again for weeks. The members of the High Clergy had been traveling to spread the word of the church for the past couple of months, which shouldn't have affected you and your role in the library. But, it got awfully lonely while they were away. You had your friends around The Abbey, of course, and the rest of the Siblings that resided here were all kind and wonderful people, but something was still missing.

You managed to get to the gates just in time to see them heading up the long stone driveway to The Abbey’s entrance. You wiped your hands down the front of your habit, your palms growing clammy as your eyes landed on Falk, a smile on his face as he talked with Attila. His gaze turns to you, his long strides gradually slowing to a stop as his eyes meet yours. His grin softens, a fond expression settling over his features as he studies the image of you standing before him. He claps Attila on the shoulder before parting from the other man, adjusting the strap of his bag where it had twisted before starting in your direction. He stops a few steps in front of you, both of you memorizing the image of the other all over again as you both struggle to find the right words to say. You can't help but smile slightly as you study his features. You hadn't realized how much you missed getting to see his face every day until right this moment: warm golden brown eyes that captivated you yet put you entirely at ease, the subtle sharpness of his smile that never failed to make your heart race, the slight shadow of stubble that covered the lower half of his face, you missed all of it. “How are you?” He finally speaks, snapping you from your trance-like state.

“Good,” you suck in a deep breath to steady your pulse, “better now that you're home safely.” Falk breathes out a flustered chuckle at your response.

“Well, I had to make it back to my favorite Mäuschen, didn't I?” His hand comes to rest on the top of your head, gently patting your hair. Your heart pounded as you glanced up at him through your lashes. He removes his hand from your head, his fingers gently combing through your hair to push some loose strands behind your ear. His hand grazes over your skin, coming to rest on your cheek.

“Father Falk?” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the words bubbling up in your throat as you struggled to tear your eyes away from his. “I, um…” The warmth of Falk’s hand leaves your cheek at the sudden shout of his name, a group of Siblings barreling out of The Abbey doors now that someone has alerted them that the High Clergy had returned home.

“You, what, Maus?” he asks in a low tone. The intimacy of how he leaned in to speak to you, to ensure you knew that you had his full attention, sent a shiver down your spine.

“I'm just really happy you're home, Father.” You tried to muster your most convincing smile, but Falk saw through whatever façade you attempted to put on. As the crowd approaches, you attempt to slip off, only for Falk to catch your hand in his.

“You can stay, you know.” He remarks, offering you a patient smile.

“I'm afraid I’d probably just get in the way,” you respond with a weak, slightly defeated chuckle. “If you find yourself with a moment to breathe, you know where to find me.”

“Will I see you tonight?” You glance at him curiously. “For the party?” He finishes.

The party had already begun to slip from your thoughts. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be drowned out by the hoard of Siblings who had finally made their way down to where you were standing. Your hand slipped out of his as you took your chance to disappear into the chaos.

You hurriedly made your way back to the library, pressing your back against the cool wood as you allowed the door to slam shut behind you. You sigh, letting your head thud against the barrier. “I missed you.” You finally allow the confession to tumble from your lips once you find yourself alone.

You slide into the chair at your desk, smiling slightly as you see your handwriting on a tented index card. You pick it up, absentmindedly twirling it between your fingers as you allow your eyes to trace along the delicate gold letters etched into the book cover that sat atop the pile of reserved texts you had set aside by request. “Excuse me.” You scream as you're startled from your thoughts, clapping a hand over your mouth as you turn to look at who had approached the desk. Falk stood before you, his shoulders shaking slightly as he struggled to contain the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

“I'm sorry, Father–”

“No, really, I'm sorry; I thought you would have heard me come in.” He chuckles, gliding forward until he’s standing right in front of you. His forearms come to rest on the desk, his crooked smile making your cheeks grow warm as he casually leans in closer to you. “Surely I'm not that scary looking, hm?” He adds with a playful smirk.

“You're not scary at all, you just surprised me, that's all…” you trail off, fidgeting with the edge of one of the book covers as you pull the stack closer to you. “I happen to think you're rather handsome.”

“Is that so?” His grin widens slightly as his gaze scans over your features. “Well, coming from someone as beautiful as you, I'm flattered.” Your heart slammed against your ribs when you finally registered his compliment. His hand was warm as he took yours, thumb slowly running over the valleys of your knuckles. He breathes out a laugh at the difference between his massive paw as it engulfed your delicate fingers. His attention turns to your face; the subtle intensity behind his eyes keeps you firmly in place. “I don't believe I got your answer before we were interrupted earlier.” His expression softens, gently squeezing your hand when he feels your fingers trembling against his palm. “Will I be seeing you tonight?” Your mouth grew dry as you struggled to form any words in response. The question was so simple, yet Falk’s tone was so incredibly intimate as he spoke to you.

“I'll be there.” You finally managed to squeak out.

He lifted your hand slightly; his breath was warm against your skin. “Hopefully, I'll be able to steal you away for a dance then.” His eyes flicker over your features before he brings your knuckles to his lips. “Until then, Schwester.” He wordlessly scoops up the books you had placed on the desk between you, giving you one final lopsided grin before hurrying from the library, leaving you dumbfounded.

You couldn't believe it when you stood in front of your mirror. You were truly no better than a teenage girl getting ready for prom. You glanced at the chaos that had ensued behind you: a mountain of dresses covered your bed, practically every pair of shoes you owned scattered the floor, various piles of tried-on and later discarded jewelry, leaving you still standing in your bathrobe as you agonized over what to wear.

You had just finished putting on your earrings when there was a sudden knock at your door. “One second!” You call in response, grumbling as you trip over your shoes on your way to the door. You freeze as your eyes land on Falk, your gaze darting to the vibrant bouquet he held before returning to his charming, lopsided grin. “Falk?” You can't help the shy smile that slowly spreads across your features. “What's this for?”

“Well, I couldn't show up empty-handed. Now, could I?” He responds vaguely, slipping the bouquet into your hands.

“Well, that all depends on why you're here, doesn't it?” He chuckles at your playful tone.

“I'm here to ask if the beautiful young woman in front of me would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Equinox celebration tonight.” He motions to the gift he had presented to you. “Hence the flowers.” You share a laugh, carefully spinning around the bouquet in your hands to admire the vibrant oranges, golds, and reds.

“You… you want to take me?” Your voice came out soft, barely above the whisper, as if you spoke any louder, you would snap yourself awake from a dream.

“If you'll have me.” He responds with a slight nervousness in his tone. He holds out his hand for you to take, a hopefulness in his eyes as they meet yours.

“I think it might be the other way around.” You reply coyly, your cheeks growing warm as your fingers ghost over his palm.

“Please,” you can't help but giggle as he takes your hand and guides you through a spin. He smiles as he drinks in the sight of you. You're absolutely beautiful,” your breath hitches in your throat as he gently trails his knuckle across your jaw. Walking in there with you on my arm feels almost too good to be true.”

“Let me just grab my shoes, " you said as you began to turn. Feel free to come in, but I'll warn you it's a bit of a mess…” he glanced at you curiously. “I couldn't figure out what to wear.” You both exchanged a laugh.

“Well, I think you look incredible, Mäuschen.” You mumble out a flustered ‘thank you,’ Falk sticking close to your side as you head into your dorm. You set the bouquet in some water, deeply inhaling its sweet scent. “I'm glad you like them.”

“Thank you for bringing them for me; that was very sweet.” He shrugs nonchalantly in response, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Like I said… I couldn't just show up empty-handed.” He takes a few steps forward, allowing him to resume his usual position towering over you. “I honestly wish I had prepared a bit more.” He chuckles.

“Getting to spend the night with you is all I could ever ask for.” You admit softly, your eyes trailing to the floor.

“Well then, my dearest Maus,” he takes your hand, carefully bringing your knuckles to his lips, “why don't you grab your shoes so we can enjoy our evening?” Your heart pounded; you were sure Falk could hear it. You reluctantly separated from him, picking up the pair of heels you had decided on. Falk’s hand was warm as it came to rest on the small of your back. “May I?” He asks, taking hold of your shoes. He drops to one knee, taking your hand in his for a moment to bring it to his shoulder. He carefully moves your dress out of the way to delicately lift your foot. He easily slips your shoe on before resting or on his thigh, fastening the strap around your ankle and asking you if everything felt alright before repeating the process.

“Thank you.” You smile down at him. Electricity danced across your skin, where he lazily ran his thumb across your ankle. He takes your hands in his as he stands.

“Ready?” You nod in response, your grin widening as you watch him slowly trace over the contours of your face. “Beautiful.” He mumbles before breathing out a bashful chuckle. He tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow, “Let’s get going.”

You found yourself leaning into Falk’s side as you walked, hiding your face against his shoulder as you laughed at another one of his dumb jokes. You could hear the party raging up the hallway as glasses clinked together and the excited laughter and shouts of the entire Abbey broke apart the otherwise tranquil autumn evening. When you entered the room, it felt like every pair of eyes had landed on you. Falk squeezes your hand before confidently stepping forward. “Falk!” The crowd's attention quickly diverted as Attila greeted the two of you. He claps Falk on the shoulder, greeting each other jovially in German before turning his attention to you, “Sorry about all the staring.” He chuckles. 

“I thought I had prepared myself for that on the walk over here.” You respond with a laugh of your own.

“Just go have fun, don’t worry about them.” He leans closer to you to whisper, “Falk certainly isn’t.” He jokes. You glance at him over your shoulder, your heart leaping into your throat as you meet with his kind, adoring gaze. Attila straightens up, “I’ll see you both later.” He dismissed himself abruptly, surely trying to see as many people as possible before the night was over.

You turn to face him as Falk softly says your name. “Would you like to dance?” He offers you his hand, waiting patiently for you to accept his invitation. As you set your hand in his, a smile finds its way to your lips.

“I'd love to.” He tugs you in the direction of the dance floor. You can't help but laugh as he sweeps you into his arms, your heart fluttering as your hands rest against his chest. He takes your hand in his, the other settling against the curve of your waist.

“You look nervous, Mäuschen.” You share a playful grin.

“Can you blame me?” You reply softly.

“If anything, I should be the one that's nervous.” Your body instinctively begins to sway with his as he leads you around the floor.

“And why's that?” He carefully leads you through a spin before pulling you back to him.

“I showed up to a party accompanied by the most beautiful woman in The Abbey.” His arm fully encircles your waist, tipping you back towards the floor. “I just hope I don't manage to make myself look like a fool in front of you.” 

Your cheeks grow warm at his compliment, a soft laugh slipping past your lips. “Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about.” Your breath catches in your throat as he shoots you another charming, lopsided grin. His gaze drops to your lips, lingering there momentarily before meeting your eyes again.

You danced with him for hours. The pair of you never seemed to tire as Falk effortlessly spun you around the room. Your nerves quickly slipped from your mind, the jealous stares of other Siblings being entirely lost to the warmth that burned in your chest every time Falk made you laugh. Eventually, you noticed the once-raging crowd beginning to thin as the night started to wind to a close. “Why don't we get out of here?” Your pulse races as Falk whispers the simple question in your ear. You nod, laughing as he takes your hand and hurriedly leads you through the crowd.

Falk sighs loudly as he pushes through the door into the chilly autumn evening. Goosebumps immediately erupt across your bare skin, the oppressive heat of the party inside being sucked away from you in an instant. He turns to you with a soft smile, shrugging out of his jacket to draw it across your shoulders. He cups your cheek, allowing his thumb to stroke over your skin as he studies you languidly. “What?” You ask with a bashful smile.

“You're beautiful, Mäuschen.” He responds with unhesitating tenderness. “I'm sorry if you catch me staring. I just can't help myself sometimes.” He pulls you to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You wandered aimlessly around The Abbey’s grounds, just enjoying being in each other’s company. Neither of you wanted your time together to end, finding any excuse you could to lengthen the conversation. You paused at the distant rumble of thunder, jumping slightly when a raindrop splatters across your cheek. Falk grabs your hand, waiting for you to gather up your dress. You groan as you remember you're wearing heels. Falk chuckles, stepping closer to you to scoop you up in his arms. You let out a delighted squeal, your arms latching around his neck as he jogs off with you in his arms. It didn't take long for both of you to be completely soaked through with rain. He sets you down outside the greenhouse, the first unlockable door to shelter you came across. “I'm sorry about your dress.” He apologizes as he feels around the top of the door frame for the key.

“It'll dry.” You reassure him.

“I figured we could dry off here for a little while, wait for the rain to stop.” He explains as he finally slips the key into the lock. “I thought going for a walk would have been romantic.” He chuckles.

“Falk?” His attention turns to you as you softly say his name. “Would you like to dance with me?”

He chuckles as he nods. “I would love to, Maus.” He steps closer to you, “Here, let me help with your shoes. I don't need you getting stuck.” He meticulously helps you out of your heels, struggling to contain the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you step down to your normal height. You can't help but laugh as Falk gives you a low bow, offering you his hand. You gingerly lift your dress as you curtsy in response. Raindrops trailed down your skin; Falk swore you almost seemed to glow under the moonlight. He hums into the silence of the night, both of you moving in perfect synchronicity as you waltz through the wet grass. Falk bows once more as your dance finishes, bringing your knuckles to his lips before lifting you from the ground easily. The inside of the greenhouse was warm, immediately enveloping your whole body in a blanket of humidity as you hurried inside out of the rain. He carefully takes his sleeve, wiping away whatever water he could with his soaked shirt.

“Come here; I know where they keep some towels.” Falk smiles as you take his hand. You shake the handle of the supply closet, giving it a harsh twist before it finally gives way. It wasn't much, a few hand towels tucked beside a rickety old sink every used to wash up after a day of harvesting. You timidly raise your hand, carefully pressing the towel to his cheek to wipe away the ceremonial paint that now ran in dark gray streaks down his neck. Falk freezes under your delicate touch, his hands settling on the curve of your waist as he allows you to clean him up. As you slowly uncover his handsome features, a soft smile finds its way to your face. Falk was struggling to keep his eyes off of you; everything about you was just so perfect. The subtle curve of your lips as you cared for him just about made his heart stop.

“You'll catch a cold if you're stuck in that dress much longer.” He tuts, moving one of his hands to your shoulder. “Your skin feels like ice, Maus.” 

“I'll be alright-”

“There you two are! What the hell do you think you're doing out here in this storm?” It was Roel. The two of you startled apart; you yelped as you tripped on the long skirt of your gown. Falk’s hand shot out in an instant, steadying you, and he pulled you into his chest.

“How did you know we were out here?” Falk asks in a confused tone.

“I was doing a grounds check. Trust me, this wouldn't be the first time I've found someone hooking up out here, and I'm sure it won't be the last.” He chuckles. “But, from the fact you two look like a couple of wet dogs, I'm assuming this wasn't part of your plan.” You could tell from his teasing tone that Father Roel wouldn't let either of you live this down any time soon. The three of you rush back inside The Abbey, Roel giving Falk very clear instructions to ensure you get home safely before parting ways.

“Let's get you into something dry, hm?” He offers you his arm, and you gladly accept it as you lean into his side. Your hand slides into his, giving it a gentle squeeze to try and ease some of the tension that rolled off of him in waves. He seems to snap himself from his thoughts as he turns to glance at you. “I'm sorry I made such a mess of our date, " he suddenly admits with a chuckle.

“I don't think you made a mess of anything. Falk, I'm having a wonderful time with you tonight.” Your steps slowly come to a stop.

“After I got you caught in the rain and probably ruined your nice dress.” He responds incredulously.

“It's just a dress.” You rebuttal. You turn to face him, and despite how hard he tried to hide it you could see the worry laced into his features. Your hand slowly rises from your side, hesitating for a moment before it gently comes to rest against his cheek. Falk’s warm, golden brown eyes find yours. “I wouldn't change anything about how tonight has gone.” Your confession poured past your lips before you could stop it. “While you were away, I can't even begin to describe how much I missed you. Now, you're home. You asked me to one of The Abbey’s most important parties, and I got to spend the entire night wrapped up in your arms… Falk Maria Schlegel, I love being around you. Getting caught in some rain isn't going to change that. There isn't anywhere I would rather have spent my night than by your side.” He barely gave you enough time to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. The air was instantly knocked from your lungs, your hands fisting into Falk’s shirt in order to keep yourself upright and to pull him as close to you as you could manage. His strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you from the floor, leaving your toes barely skimming across the stone tile. His shoulders heave as he struggles to catch his breath, his eyes searching yours as you finally separate for air. You slide your hands over his shoulders, realizing he was making no move to set you down. Slowly, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips.

“You missed me, hm?” Your cheeks immediately begin to burn at the statement.

“Shut up.” You manage to respond through a flustered giggle. You let out a pleased hum as he pressed his lips to yours in a few short, sweet kisses. “Take me home.” You command.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk toying at the corners of his lips. “Yes, ma'am.” He sets you down for a moment to readjust his hold on you, his arm sliding behind your knees as he pulls you back into his chest. Swaying you with every step, Falk carried you back to his quarters so you could enjoy the rest of your evening alone.

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @belnovacaine @obsessed-and-possessed @crexpy34 @eentheekipekke @iamsarahsaysso

[nameless-ghoul-trash]

Hi, I’m new here! I’m not sure if requests are open or if you’re currently writing for ghost, but could we have a scenario where there is a new female ghoul and they’re trying to figure out where they fit in the hierarchy. She’s bratty and challenges sodo, but he’s having none of it and it gets a bit smutty/suggestive and has her submitting. Thank you and my apologies if you don’t write anything like this!

Hello! You got the honor of being my first request! I hope this meets your expectations! I tried my best!

Sodo x F!Ghoul!Reader

2.5k words

Minors DNI

Lightly proofread

Warnings: choking, degradation, male receiving oral, spanking, cussing. (Let me know if I miss any)

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  You walk down one of the many halls of the abbey. It was time for your third practice with the rest of the band today. You were still fairly new, only having been summoned a little over a month ago. You didn't entirely have everything figured out yet. Everyone was nice enough to you. All except for one. Sodo. Brought in to be a second rhythm guitar and backup vocals, he didn't believe they needed you. Not that you were here to appease him. You first impression on each other had exactly been great either. You had pushed you luck with all of them. Getting away with most of it, much to your enjoyment.

   Coming up to the practice room, you note everyone was already there, save for Swiss and Sodo. Making your way over to your guitar case, you begin pulling everything out. Tuning and securing your guitar, you take a seat on one of the risers. You messing with your finger while waiting on the other two to show when you note a pair of feet stop in front of you, you glance up. Papa smiles down at you. "Hey, are you doing, little one?" He says to you. "I am fine, Papa. Thank you for asking." You politely respond. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Swiss saunter into the room. "Good. Are you adjusting to life in the ministry well?"  To that, you shrug, not giving a verbal response. Placing his hand on your shoulder, he gives a quick squeeze. "Well, if you are ever in need, you can come to me." He reassures, going to step away. 10 minutes pass, and you start to grow irritated. Sodo had still not shown up. Swiss and Phantom were wrestling around trying to pass the time while everyone else just lounged around.

   Not paying attention, Phantom took a step back and landed right on your tail. You immediately let out a hiss, ears flattening. The moment he lifted his foot, you wrapped your tail around yourself. Turning to look at him, you glare. "Watch what you're fucking doing!" You seethed. "Jeez, I'm sorry." He grumbled throwing his hands up in mock surrender. Sodo finally decided to make his entrance when you turn back around, a lazy grin on his face. Scoffing you stand. "Nice of you to finally show up." His grin falters slightly, eyes narrowing in on you. "If you have a problem with me, write it on a piece of paper, fold it and stick it up your ass." He spat back. You hear someone try and stiffle a snort. You roll your eyes as he moves to get ready and stand in his spot.  Papa moves to stand infront of everyone. "Okay let's start at the beginning of the set list and make our way through. Yes?" With no objections he instructs you all to start. You muddle through the first 5 song with only having a few noticeable mistakes. You were now on Cirice. You make it through the first half of the intro, but completely mess up the timing for the second half. You hadn't had much time to memorize every song yet, struggling with most of them still. Papa waved his hand to stop everyone. You immediately feel you face heat, wishing you had your helmet right about now.  "How about we start from the beginning again." Papa asks. Letting out a frustrated sigh you prepared to begin. The first half goes fine, but when you get the same spot, you can't seem to play it right. Papa stops everyone for the second time. "Let's take a breather. Pick up where we left off in about 10 minutes." A couple groans could be heard at Papa's announcement, causing your frustration and embarrassment to grow. Phantom and Papa both move towards you. Phantom showing you the tabs and Papa helping you with timing. The three of you running through it together, only for you to still not get it quite right. After your third time, you finally get it right. With some praise from Papa, everyone returns to their spots. "Okay, from the top."  

   Making it thought the rest of practice without any more major hickups, you thank Satan. Wrapping up, you walk over to where you keep your guitar. You had noticed your strings needed to be replaced during practice. Placing your guitar down, you start to pull out all the necessary equipment. Feeling someone's eyes on you, you half tun to find Sodo staring at you a few steps away from the door, waiting for the other guys. You roll your eyes, flip him off, and continue what you were originally doing. Once you finish restringing your guitar, you turn around and realize you were alone. Sighing you, look at the clock on the wall 4:28pm. Deciding to use this time to get in a little more practice without the pressure everyone being there, you get comfortable. You would have to do it all over again tomorrow.

------

   In the same predicament as yesterday, everyone was waiting on Sodo. You sat quietly, strumming some cords. After about 20 minutes, Sodo finally made his presence know. He stops beside you and grabs his guitar, throwing the strap over his shoulder. "You know, for someone who's in such an important role, it seems to me like you sure don't like to be here." You mumbles loud enough for him to catch it. He pauses  looking at you. "I don't remember asking for your input." He bit back at you. You stand up, so you are toe to toe. The tension in the room was palpable. "Hey, how about we get started." Papa tried and failed to get either of your attention. The others were watching the interaction closely. "I'm just saying! Maybe that's why they brought me in. To cover for you late ass. Maybe I'll end up as your replacement. Can't preform if you don't show the fuck up. Maybe I'll end up better then you." You jab a finger in his chest, making him tense. You were pushing on a sensitive subject and you knew it. You could see his face contort in to one of anger, ears pinned back, and tail violently cutting through the air. "I'll show you exactly what you fucking are, you little bitch." The vemon in his voice threatening. You growl in a challenging manner and glare the moment the words left his mouth. Before he even made a move for you the others sprung into action. Rain getting to the two of you first, he shoved his way between, pushing the hot-headed ghoul back, baring his teeth, trying to get Sodos attention on him. Phantom going behind, he grabbed Sodos' raised arm. Sodo did not take to kindly to this, turning his angry gaze to him and ripping his arm out of his hands. "That is enough!" Papa bellowed out. Voice packed with authority. At his words, everyone froze. It startled you he had never spoken in such a way around you before. "I will not have you guys fighting. You have a job to do now fucking do it."  Slowly everyone moved to their respective places, Sodo's eyes tracking your movements. You stood your ground and held your head high, not letting him win.

   Practice went relatively smoothly. The room remained tense. Not many words spoken aside from Papa giving instructions. At the end, you were quick to put everything away and try to leave.  Meeting you at the door, Swiss offers a smile. "I'll walk back with you." Shrugging, you walk out to into the hall. "You know that took some real balls. Going toe to toe with our residential gremlin like that."  You give a snort. "Well, if he didn't waste my time, I wouldn't have done it." A lie. You probably still would find a reason to make a smart-ass remark one way or another. He chuckles a bit. "I think you should be careful, though. He can be a bit unpredictable at times."  You shake your head with a light chuckle. "Thanks for the warning, I guess. I'm sure I could handle myself, though. Plus, you guys can just save me again!" You say jokingly, giving a small smile. The rest of the way, you guys are in a comfortable silence. Getting back to the ghouls den you b-line straight for the kitchen. "Thanks for walking with me." You call back to swiss. "No problem." Grabbing a snack, you make your way to your room, locking the door. You typically avoid eating supper with the rest of the band, choosing to instead stay in your room. Normally, you wait for everyone to go where they would be staying for the night before leaving your room. 

   You decide tonight you would watch some TV in the common room once it was empty. Putting your snack of choice on your bedside table, you strip. Throwing on a tank top and a pair of sleep shorts, you burrow into your nest of blankets and open the book you've been working on to pass the time.

------

   Around 11:30, you had finally curled up on the couch, eating leftovers. Flipping through different shows, you finally pick a movie. Putting the remote down, you sink back into the couch and focus on the screen. Finishing your food, you pause the movie and head to the kitchen. You try to wash your dishes as quietly as possible. Putting the now clean dishes away, you walk back to the couch. Before you can sit back down, you hear a voice come from behind you. "So it does come out of its room."  Spinning around you face the unexpected presence "What the fuck do you want? And dont call me an it, asshat." Sodo snickers at you. "You know that attitude of yours, it's going to land you in more trouble then I think you realize." He warned.

   You take him in for a second. He was in a tee-shirt and a loose-fitting pair of sweatpants. His long hair flowing over his shoulders. His eyes are zeroed in on you. Slowly, he walks around the couch to stand in front of you. "And what are you going to do about?" You challenge stepping closer so your noses are barely 4 inches apart. His eyes darken. "I'll do exactly what I told you I would."  In one fluid motion, he grabs onto your right knee and drags it up to his waist, his other hand pushing you down to the couch by your neck simultaneously. You let out a surprised cry as your back lands on the couch, Sodos body above you. Hand still on your throat, he pushes your body to be completely on the couch and leans down. "I'm going to show you exactly what you are, and no one's here to save you this time." He whispered in your ear before chuckling darkly and nipping at the shell of your ear. Shivers trail down your spin, a pool of heat forming in your belly. His grip on your neck tightens, but not to the point that it would hurt you too much. His tail comes up the wrap tightly around the ankle of the leg he has pinned to his side so he could let go. Leaning back up, he looks you dead in the eye. "I suggest you be a very good girl." He pushed your shorts aside and runs a finger through your wet folds. His words and actions cause you to swallow a moan. You couldn't get your thoughts in order, just staring up at him. "Are you going to be a good girl for me? Or am i going to fuck that attitude right out of you." He questioned dragging his finger over your clit, pulling a gasp from you. You stare at him for just a minute longer before narrowing your eyes. "I don't think you could, I heard that your dicks about as short as your temper." You provoke him, trying to push his buttons. You must have pushed the right button because before you knew it he was getting off you and manhandled you so you were laying across his lap.

   Grabbing your tail with one hand to keep it out of the way, he slides your shorts down to expose your ass. "Count" was the only warning you got before a resounding smack rang through the room. The impact on you ass left a burning sting, making you gasp. He waited a moment, rubbing the now tender spot. When he didn't hear a word from you, he growled. "I said count." Smack. Gasping out a strangled one, he sounded pleased. He rubbed the spot again before landing another blow. Smack. "Two." Smack. "Three." Smack. "Four." By the fourth, you had tears rolling down your face. Letting go of your tail, he set you up he  and wiped them away. "Are you okay?" He asked softy, forehead touching yours. You nodded. "Can you keep going?" Another nod. "I need words." He pressed. You finally let out a small "Yes." To which he grinned, his kind and caring demeanor for a few seconds ago completely changed. "Good. Get on your knees in front of me." His voice full of authority. Looking at him, your eyes widen. "What?" He gave you a dark look. "I said, get on you fucking knees." Sinking onto the floor you do as he says.

   Lifting his hips he pushes his pants down, releasing his fully hard cock from its confines. He was anything but small. Studying him for a minute, you let out an unsteady breath. The head was a flushed, angry pink. The body of his cock had a slight curve and the perfect amount of veins running the length of it. Making eye contact you reach for it. "Be a good little slut. Suck it." He taunts. Taking it in your hands, you pump it a few times before bringing it to your lips. His body shudders under your touch, his eyes closing. Suckling on the head a bit, you continue to watch him, gauging his reactions.  Eventually, you sink down to take as much it to your mouth as you could manage. Bringing lips back up to the tip, you begin to bob up and down. Sodo's let's out a strangled moan. His hand reaches for you, entangling in your (h/c) hair, and presses you down harder. "You like that, don't you? You like chocking on my cock like the whore you are?" You moan on his dick at the question. Opening his eyes, listening to the sounds you make. He starts thrusts into your mouth a couple of times. "Your a little slut. A little slut who likes sucking on my cock. You dirty little whore." He then pushes to the back of your throat and stills. You suck hard as you drag up to the tip, ripping a groan out of him. Sliding back down as far as you can manage, you do it three more times.  With tight grip on your hair, he pulls you off his dick, saliva still connecting your lips to it. "You keep doing that your going to make me cum." Sodo pants, smiling. "That was the plan." You smile back. "How about we finish this in my room?" Sodo releases his grip on your hair and helps you up.

------

The next day, everybody was sitting in the practice room, waiting for Sodo. You had your insults locked and loaded but for different reasons now. You knew there would be consequences, and you were going to enjoy every minute of it.

------

Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for the read! Requests are open!

[corrodedbisexual]

@steviesbicrisis your Steddie Eurovision brainrot never left my brain, so now I'm thinking about Eddie going for the ultimate love confession by learning Stefano's song (Duolingo lessons paid off somewhat, he's got the pronunciation down at least and the lyrics can be memorized). He rearranges it into a beautiful metal power ballad, rents a studio, and they record the cover overnight (bless his bandmades for indulging his insanity when they could be out partying like the rest of the Eurovision crowd, but they end up having fun with it, too). Eddie uploads the song to their Spotify before he can chicken out and goes to bed to scream into his pillow.

Steve wakes up to about a hundred notifications of people texting him and tagging him in posts about Corroded Coffin's new cover track. He listens to it several times making sounds absolutely unbecoming of a grown man that he is, and kicking his feet, and texting Robin in all caps and heart emojis because he's absolutely GONE for that low gravelly voice singing HIS song. (Robin, who's currently in the US, texts him back a picture of her bedside clock showing 4AM, with a deadpan emoji. But then also "go get your man dingus" and an eggplant emoji.)

Later that day Eddie attends Steve's concert at a club, hoping to blend in with the crowd, but Steve notices him just as he's about to close with his Eurovision number, grins wide and says, "I think there's someone in the audience who might help me put a twist on this one. Hey Australia, get your ass on stage."

Before Eddie's brain even catches up with what's happening, there are lights on him, the crowd recognize him and all cheer and whoop and whistle; news travels lightning fast in the village, so all the Eurovision fans present have heard his cover already and are thrilled about what they're about to witness. Eddie's being pushed forward, his feet helplessly dragging him towards the stage, and there's an electric guitar shoved into his arms by someone.

It's only thanks to years of experience and muscle memory that Eddie manages to tune the guitar while his brain short circuits about being right next to this gorgeous man, hair a mess, neck all sweaty and shiny from the stage lights. And then he's playing, Steve's band follow his lead, and Steve sings the verses himself but pulls Eddie in for the choruses. They are both singing into the same mic, pressed together back to back, Steve's face and LIPS so fucking close the entire time, their cheeks almost touching, making Eddie buzz from more than just stage adrenaline.

The whole audience joins in on what was supposed to be the final chorus, Steve and Eddie turned around now to almost face each other; Steve throws an arm around his shoulders and grins so wide and dazzling as he sings, eyes moving between the crowd and Eddie, and Eddie can't stop grinning back at him; holy fuck, the man is so beautiful like this, Eddie never wants this to end. He repeats the chorus tune on the guitar over and over, changing up the rhythm to go faster and faster on what was initially a slow ballad, matching his own accelerating heartbeat. Steve's grin is absolutely brilliant as he matches Eddie's pace perfectly in this little improv, despite the lyrics going so fast now Eddie would never be able to do that, but Steve practically breaks into a rap by the end of it and he's ON FIRE. The crowd is going wild, everyone jumping up and down and just high pitch screaming when the lyrics get too fast for them to follow, too.

Eddie ends it with a quick improv guitar solo, Steve's eyes on him the entire time, wide and shining as he not quite headbangs, but keeps nodding to the rhythm. Then, with the final chord still ringing out, Steve leans into the mic to sing the chorus one last time a capella, slow and soft. The club immediately goes quiet as everyone listens, mesmerized, and so does Eddie. God, this man has a beautiful voice.

Steve's eyes are closed for the most of it, but they open on the final line and land on Eddie as he sings it, and Eddie remembers the translation of it. "Would you let me love you like it's our last night on this planet?" He is so gone, gone, GONE. When the set ends, and they both bow to the audience whose cheers are near deafening, it's only the fact that every single person has their phones out to record the performance that stops Eddie from kissing the guy right there on that stage.

Steve drags him backstage and slams him into a wall the moment they're out of sight, and it's kinda funny how they are making out like horny teenagers before they even had a single conversation, but after all, music speaks louder than any words.

[thoseboysinblue]

Unbroken

Part 3

Christian Pulisic x reader, Enemies to Lovers

You are best friends with Christian’s childhood friend, however, you and Christian cannot seem to get along with one another.

Word count: 7500+

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swearing, angst throughout the entire series

Part 2

You go up to your room, your heart a little lighter having cleared the air with, Christian. Hopeful that starting off on a new foot with him will lead to something better, even if it's just a friendship, you are just glad to know that you are no longer enemies. You brush your teeth and hop into bed, excited for your day tomorrow.

Y/N: Thanks for listening to me tonight, sorry if it was a bit much.

Christian: you never have to apologize for that, ever. I'm looking forward to our day tomorrow 😊

Y/N: Me too, hope I don't bore you to death 🫣

Christian: Never. Sleep well, y/n

Y/N: you, too Christian 😘

Your heart leapt in your chest to know he was also excited about your day tomorrow. You pull the covers up around you, hoping you can drift off to sleep.

The next morning you wake up ridiculously early, but too anxious about the day ahead to go back to sleep. You get up and take a shower, drying your hair and putting on some light makeup before deciding on what to wear, opting for something that will be comfortable for walking around.

You make your way downstairs, thinking Christian won't be up yet and that you will just make some coffee and sit in the back garden, enjoying the quiet until he wakes up.

Much to your surprise, he's already standing in the kitchen making his own cup of coffee, earbuds in as he hums along to a song when you walk through the doorway.

You stop in your tracks, taking in the way he looks, dressed casually, but still effortlessly gorgeous, his hair a bit messy, the last bit of a summer tan fading away, freckles on his cheeks, a slight stubble along his jaw, gorgeous brown eyes that you know you could get lost in, and soft lips that he presses to the edge of his mug, taking a long sip, before he swallows it down, Adam's apple bobbing.

He catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, and turns and offers you a bright smile, "morning, y/n" he beams at you, grabbing another mug and pouring you some coffee, adding cream and sugar just the way he'd noted when you made your coffee in front of him yesterday, still humming along to his music, never missing a beat.

He slides your mug to where you are standing, leaned up against the counter. "Morning, Christian" you smile at him, a bit overwhelmed at the fact that he'd picked up on how you like your coffee just from watching you make it once. This all feels surreal to you, normal, like a routine you've done for ages, except, you haven't.

He places his earbuds and phone on the counter beside you. As you pull your mug up to your lips, he watches as you take a sip, a smile creeping over his face when you hum in appreciation. You sit your phone down beside his as he grabs your hand, "Let's sit out back, we don't get many sunny mornings here" he says quietly as he pulls you towards the glass doors that lead to his garden. You let out a small laugh as he slides the door open, moving over to the seating area and dropping down on the small sofa, patting the seat next to him indicating where he wants you to sit.

You sit next to him, as he stretches his legs out over the coffee table in front of him, you tuck your knees under you, barely leaning into his side.

"This is nice," you say, motioning towards the area behind his house.

"Yeah, I like to spend my mornings out here when I can, it's usually a quiet, calming way to start my day" he says as he takes another sip of his coffee.

"Thanks for this, by the way" you say, lifting your mug slightly. "Not sure how you memorized how I like my coffee that quickly, but I appreciate it anyways," you smile at him.

"I'm very attentive to details" he shrugs, making you wonder what else he might have picked up on from you.

"So, what do you normally do in the mornings? Just sit out here and drink your coffee like a little old man?" you quip.

"Well, I'm not an old man" he chuckles "but usually, I drink my coffee and play chess on my phone, so maybe I am an old man" he grins at you.

"Oh, that's right, I forget you play chess, I've heard Em mention it a few times," you say as you take another drink of your coffee.

"I like this one" you hum, dancing your finger over the chess piece on his arm, "it's really pretty." You notice how it feels like there is an electric current running between your fingertips and the skin on his arm, certain he's felt it too judging by the goosebumps that are now dressing his skin.

"Do you play?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. "No," you shake your head, "but I've always wanted to learn" you smile at him shyly, pink tinging your cheeks.

"I could probably teach you, if you're up for it" he says still enjoying the way you are tracing the piece on his arm with your fingers and you nod in agreement, "yeah, I would like that, thank you."

"So, do you always wake up this early?" you quiz him, thinking of a whole list of questions you want to ask him.

"Yeah, I've always seemed to be an early riser, like to get my day started, you know? But woke up earlier than normal this morning, guess I was too excited to sleep any longer," he says, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

"Hmm, why's that?" you raise your eyebrows at him, taking another sip of coffee.

"I don't know" he says smirking at you while pulling his mug up to his lips.

"Really, no ideas?" you grin at him as he shakes his head at you scrunching his nose up.

"What about you, are you always up this early?" he says, turning the conversation back to you.

"Yeah, usually, don't like to waste the day, I guess, but I might have woken up before my alarm this morning" you say as you realize you're still absentmindedly tracing your fingers along his arm, but judging by the way he leans into you a little more, and moves his arm over your lap tells you he's enjoying it.

"Why's that?" he says, lips curling up slightly at the edges.

"No idea" you grin at him.

"Maybe I'm excited about spending the day with you" he says, barely above a whisper before pressing a feather light kiss to your cheek, enjoying the way your breath hitches in your throat when he does.

"Well, maybe, I'm excited about spending the day with you, too" you whisper back to him, seeing his cheeks flush just the way you are sure yours are.

"Why the tiger?" you ask, turning your attention back to his arm.

"Favorite animal, and I'm a Tiger Woods fan, and it makes for a cool goal celebration," he grins at you.

"Mmm, if you say so" you grin back at him. "Better than your griddy though, I suppose" you say, giggling when he pretends to be offended.

"And here I thought we were having a nice conversation" he chuckles at you.

"I'm kidding" you say. "Sarcastic asshole, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. All that tells me is that you've watched enough matches to see multiple celebrations" he winks at you.

"Emily forced me, completely against my will" you quip back at him.

"Really?" he says, eyes burning into yours, "you didn't want to see me?"

You shake your head at him, nose scrunching and a hint of a smile on your lips.

"What's your favorite color?" you continue down your list.

"Blue, what about you?" he answers and responds with another question.

"Orange, how do you like your coffee?"

"Two sugars, and a little less cream than what you put in yours" he sighs leaning his head back against the sofa.

"What's the plan for today?" he asks you.

"Well, I was kind of hoping to go to Westminster Abbey, and maybe the Tower of London, if that's ok with you. But I'm really up for anything if you've been to those already," you answer him.

"No, that sounds good, I haven't been to either of them" he says settling his hand over your thigh and giving it a slight squeeze.

"Want to go get some breakfast?" he says turning to look at you, admiring the softness of your features in the early morning light, "there's a good little cafe on the way to the train station we could walk to."

"The train?" you question him, "Figured you're too high profile for that" you grin at him.

"Nah, if we are being tourists, we are going to be tourists" he smiles at you, "and I take the train a lot for the record, I'm an American remember, I don't get recognized as much over here as the English guys do."

"So, breakfast?" he says standing up and stretching, reaching his hand down for you to take so that he can pull you to your feet.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'm starving, actually" you smile at him as you stand up.

"I just need to grab my bag. Can you text Em to let her know we are leaving so that she's not wondering where we are when she wakes up in about 5 hours" you chuckle at him.

"Yeah, I can do that" he says as you disappear upstairs.

He watches as you make your way back downstairs, embarrassed to admit to himself that he'd missed you for the few short minutes you'd been gone.

"Ready?" he asks as he opens the door, handing you a water and your phone.

"Yeah, but if this tour sucks, I'm calling Mason for the next one" you giggle as you drop your things into your bag.

"Did you see that video of him?" He chuckles at you.

"Yeah, I think everyone did," you grin at him, "I didn't even know who he was then, other than he played with you."

"Ahhh, so you have been paying attention?" he says, a wry smile on his lips.

"Maybe, a little more than I'd care to admit," you smile shyly, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, a color he's quickly learning he loves.

You continue chatting as you walk towards the cafe, asking each other questions as you both work to get to know one another a little better.

You can't help but notice the way he always shifts to make sure he's walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street, or the way he places his hand over your lower back when you approach anyone else, or uses it to steer you in a certain direction as you continue to walk.

You also notice the way your skin feels like it's on fire when he's touching you, and how you miss it when he stops.

Once you reach the cafe and he guides you safely inside, you both stand trying to decide what to order from the counter and he makes a couple of suggestions to you. Once you decide, you both place your orders for breakfast sandwiches and a coffee, and you grab your card to pay, as he bickers with you over it. You let out a little cheer when you manage to get your card over the card reader before him and hear the notification that the transaction has gone through.

"You should've let me pay" he pouts a little at you.

"You're letting me stay in your house, breakfast is the least I can do," you smile at him.

"Fine, but, I'm getting lunch" he protests and you nod in agreement.

You enjoy your breakfast, your conversation continuing to flow from one topic to another. "This was really good, we'll have to come back here" you say, catching yourself when you realized you said "we", dropping your gaze down to nervously pick at your fingers.

"Yes" he breathes out, placing a finger beneath your chin and tilting your head up to look at him, "we will" he says, eyes burning into yours.

You could've sworn he was going to kiss you, standing there in front of the cafe, and you were secretly wishing that he would, desperate to feel his lips against yours again.

But he didn't, instead, he mutters "we should head to the train station, before it gets too crowded" and you nod in agreement as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the people walking along the pavement.

"I’m going to warn you, I might cry today" you say to him as you settle down in the seat next to him on the train.

"Yeah, why's that?" he asks you.

"Because these places that we are going, I've read about them and dreamed of seeing them for as long as I can remember, and I feel like I will probably be completely overwhelmed once I'm actually standing there. They are oddly special to me, even though I have no real connection to them" you say as you look down at your hands.

"But you do have a connection to them, they are part of your dreams, they are special places to you. There's nothing wrong with being passionate about things, caring about them, even if it doesn't make sense to anyone else," he says softly placing his hand over yours.

"You know, you always look at your hands, or your feet when you are nervous, and you pick at your fingers sometimes, too" he says giving your hands a little squeeze. "Your cheeks blush when you notice me looking at you a little too long, and you twirl this one piece of hair when you’re thinking about something" he says, reaching across you to twirl the hair he is referring to around his own fingers.

You lift your gaze to be met with his honey-colored eyes staring intently at you. And just as he predicted, you feel warmth spreading into your cheeks as they blush.

"You chew on the inside of your lip when you are trying not to smile or laugh at something" you whisper quietly, "and you blush when I catch you looking at me too long, your eyes get lighter in the sunlight, you smile differently when you are really happy about something, there is a difference between the forced and awkward ones that are sometimes posted on social media and the ones that reach your eyes when you are actually happy."

"So maybe we've both been paying more attention to each other than we'd care to admit" he says as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Seems that way" you smile softly at him, your momentary confessions interrupted when you realize you've made it to your stop.

"Come on" he says as he pulls you from your seat "let's go see these places you've been dreaming about."

You make the short walk from the train station over to Westminster Abbey, stopping to take a few photos along the way, handing your phone over to Christian when he insists on taking a few of you, both of you laughing hysterically when his attempts at a selfie with you go horribly wrong. Eventually, you pull yourselves together enough to manage to get one decent one of the two of you.

As you enter into the church you become a bit overwhelmed by emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as you think through the last 24 hours, you take a few deep breaths as you work to set up your audio guide for your tour.

You feel a hand slip around your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze, "You ok?" he asks quietly, a slight look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I'm good, I'll probably be like this all day" you whisper back to him, "so, fair warning if you want to run away now" you smile at him as he shakes his head at you.

He stays close to you all morning, listening to his audio guide, following you as you explore all the various chapels and nooks and crannies, never rushing you, instead he takes it all in, watching as you stand in awe of certain things, noticing when your eyes fill with tears, taking a few pictures, including some of you when you aren't paying attention to him.

He does at times wander up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder to see what part of the guide you are listening to, occasionally grabbing your hand to get your attention, pointing out things he thinks you would like, asking you questions about a few things and listening intently as you explain who certain people are or how they are connected.

As you leave, he pulls you into the gift shop, "tourists need souvenirs" he smiles at you. You look around for a bit not really planning to buy anything when he wanders over to you holding a pair of coffee mugs.

"These seem appropriate for a chess loving old man and a history loving nerd" he grins at you as you nod.

"You don't have to buy me anything, Christian" you shake your head at him. "I know, but I want to, and whenever I'm having my coffee out of this mug, I'll remember today, and you can, too."

He heads towards the register to pay, picking up a couple of other things he thinks you will like while he's waiting. You wander outside to wait for him, taking a few minutes to drink some water and upload a few stories.

"So where to next?" he asks, holding out his arm for you to take.

"Maybe lunch? Or we can head over to the Tower and eat something closer to there?" you offer, slipping your hand around his arm.

"Yeah, let's do that, I've seen some pictures of places to eat along the Thames there" he smiles at you leading the way to the underground train that will take you closest to the Tower.

You get comfortable in your seats, as you settle in for the 20 minute or so trip, the two of you becoming increasingly aware of the lingering touches you've been sharing all morning, drawn closer and closer together by something neither of you are ready to admit you both feel.

He sits and fiddles with a ring you have on, the only piece of jewelry you are wearing, "this is pretty" he says as he continues twirling it around your finger. "It was my grandmother's. She gave it to me about a week before she passed away. She was the last person that told me she loved me." You smile at him softly, and he returns the smile, but you can tell something is bothering him.

"My mom was furious. She wanted it for my sister, but my grandmother gave it to me instead. She said she knew it would mean more to me and she knew that I'd take care of it. It's nothing fancy, but it was special to her, so it's special to me."

"Wait, y/n, I remember Em telling me about this, that's been nearly two years." he says a look of pain in his eyes.

You nod your head at him, "yeah, just about, why?"

"No one has told you they love you in nearly two years?" he asks quietly, finally working up the courage to slip his fingers through yours.

You shake your head at him. "I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've been told that I'm loved, Christian, I don't even think about it anymore" you give him reassuring smile, gently squeezing his hand.

"I told you, something about me is unlovable, broken maybe" you sigh, not really sure you want to be getting into this discussion again.

"And I told you, you are wrong about that, and that you deserve better" he says as he pulls your hand up to press a gentle kiss over your knuckles.

"Can you please not look at me like you pity me, Christian?" you whisper quietly, dropping your gaze to look at your hands in your lap, one intertwined with his, the other drawing soft circles on the back of his hand.

"I'm sad for you, y/n, but I don't pity you. This, that you feel from me right now, it's not pity, I promise" he says as he leans over to kiss the top of your head.

"Good, because whatever this is, I don't want it to be because you feel sorry for me or because you feel like it's your responsibility to fix it," you say to him, as you look over to make eye contact with him.

"It's not" he whispers as he shakes his head.

Your conversation moves on to something else, thankfully, and soon enough you find yourself exiting the underground station and facing the Tower.

"Holy hell, I can see why this place has intimidated people for over 1000 years" you gasp as you finally lay your eyes on it.

"Yeah, me too, I'll take 60,000 people yelling at me over this place any day" he chuckles as it hits you that there are so many things that are normal to him that you will never quite understand.

"So, what about pizza for lunch?" He asks you as walk past a few restaurants.

"That sounds good to me" you smile as you feel him slip his fingers through yours again.

"Good, because I might have done a tiny bit of research and there is a food truck here I'm dying to try" he grins at you and you let out a little laugh.

You decide to split a pizza, finding a quiet place to sit that overlooks the river and Tower Bridge.

"Is it as good as you expected?" you ask him.

"Hmmm, better" he says "oh, you are talking about the pizza, aren’t you?" he smiles at you a bit shyly, a twinge of pink coloring his cheeks.

"Well, yes, I am talking about the pizza. What are you talking about?" you ask him, a playful smile on your lips.

"The pizza is good, but I was talking about today, seeing all of this through your eyes, it's even better than I expected. I can appreciate it more because I know how special it is to you" he says, never breaking eye contact with you.

"So, I'm not boring you?" you ask him, genuinely wanting to know.

"Not at all, it's interesting to me, and I like seeing another side of you, one I feel like you don't let many people see" he says as he reaches across the table to pull your hand into his.

"No, definitely not" you say as you shake your head.

"Are you enjoying today?" he asks as you both toy with one another's fingers.

"Yeah, I am. Still having to pinch myself to believe that this is real. That I'm actually here, seeing these things, with you," you smile softly at him. "It's more normal than I expected, being around you" you trail off as he raises an eyebrow at you.

"I mean, I know you've been stopped a couple of times today, but it hasn't been as overwhelming as I thought it might be, honestly, I had no idea what to expect" you shrug your shoulders.

"Yeah, I can fly under the radar a little more here. I can go out and do things and stay fairly low key if I want to, it's a little different back home, but that depends on where I am there, too. There are lots and lots of people who don't know who I am, y/n, or don't care enough to bother me anyways," he gives your hand a squeeze.

"So what about you, what do you do besides play soccer and chess?" you ask him as you continue eating your lunch.

"Play guitar, play golf, read, catch up with people back home," that about sums me up he chuckles at you.

"I've always admired the way you called to check in with, Em. It's sweet." you grin at him.

"God, she's so chaotic" he laughs at you as you nod your head, "but I suppose that's why we love her."

"Speaking of, have you heard from her?" you ask him as you pull out your phone.

"No, I haven't heard back from her since I text her this morning" he says as he pulls his phone out as well.

"Oh, she messaged me a little while ago, she's going to Ben's" you say as you scroll through a few notifications.

"Uh oh" you say with a giggle as you open a message from where Mason has replied to one of your stories.

masonmount: your stories and Christian's stories look very similar 🧐

y/n: 🤫

"What is it?" he asks you, a little concerned.

"I think Mason is on to us" you chuckle turning your phone around so that he can see it.

"Yeah, I've been avoiding messages from him and Chilly all morning," he says with a smirk.

"Hmm. Ben has requested to follow me. Those two must be doing detective work together," you smile.

"Does my sister follow you?" he asks you glancing up from his phone.

"Yeah, she has for a couple of years I think, why?" you tilt your head at him.

"She's onto us too, then," he says as he ignores a message from her.

"It's not that I don't want them to know that I'm with you, I just wasn't sure how you felt about me telling them, and I'm enjoying having you to myself for a bit, if I'm being honest" he rambles.

"Chris, it's fine, you don't have to explain" you smile at him as you bring your hand up to his jaw.

"I like it when you call me Chris," he blushes slightly, imagining what his name might sound like rolling off of your lips in other situations, "but I don't want you to think I'm embarrassed to be with you, because I'm not, I just don't want to overwhelm you with everything that comes along with...well me" he says offering you a sympathetic smile before he turns his face to press a kiss to your palm.

"It's ok, really, I'm not bothered either way about you telling the people you are close with, but I'm enjoying having you to myself, too," you wink at him as you both stand up, taking your trash and throwing it away, "now if you want to tell your other 5 million or so followers, we might need to have a small chat first," you smile at him.

"It's 6 million or so, actually" he grins at you. "Well, keep posting those thirst traps and it will be double that before long" you quip at him.

"So, you've noticed" he raises his eyebrows, while you feign innocence. "Did you like them?" he asks with a devilish grin, but you just pretend to zip your lips shut.

You wander off to take a few pictures and videos, until you hear Christian call your name and motion for you to come over to where he is standing.

"He's going to take a picture for us, if you want one, figure it will be better than our selfie attempts" he chuckles as he slides his arm around your waist whispering "come here" into your ear as he pulls you into his side while you wrap your arms around his torso and lean your head into his chest.

He thanks the guy giving him a fist bump and taking his phone back before turning his attention back to you as he scrolls through the pictures while you lean against the railing looking out over the river.

"These are good" he says as he hands his phone to you, you look through them and notice that his smile is a genuine one. You both look happy to be with one another, not at all like two people who were barely speaking twenty-four hours ago.

"They are good, really good actually," you smile as you hand him his phone back and he shoves it into his pocket before he places one hand on the railing beside you, the other on your hip as he draws soft circles with his thumb.

You shiver slightly at his touch, as he leans in closer to you, resting his chin on your shoulder, before you slowly relax into him as your stomach flips over and over.

"Those pictures cost me one awkward smile selfie," he chuckles, "so you are going to have to ask someone to take the next one," he says giving your hip a squeeze.

"Not happening" you giggle at him, "I'll play rock paper scissors though, loser has to do the asking."

"Deal" he says, "but I'll warn you, I rarely lose."

"Well, neither do I, Pulisic," you say, glancing over to see his reaction noticing the slight smirk on his face.

"You ready to go inside?" he asks, turning his face slightly towards yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath along your jaw.

You nod slowly, unable to speak, and suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

You make your way into the Tower, both of you grabbing a map and audio guides before deciding where you want to go first.

As you make your way around the various sites within the Tower, Christian stays close to you much the way he did in the Abbey, asking questions, slipping his hands onto your hips as he leans his chin on your shoulder while he reads various things, noticing when certain things really capture your attention, holding out his hand for you to take as you walk up and down stairs and narrow passageways.

He's following along behind you, as you are climbing one particularly steep set of stairs followed by another and another, "my ass better look amazing after climbing all these damn stairs today" you say with a huff.

"Hmm, I've got no complaints regarding your ass" he says with a chuckle, and you aren't quite sure if he meant to say that out loud. "Christian!" you laugh as you reach the top of the stairs and slap him playfully on the chest.

"What?" he laughs back at you, "You think I've suddenly gone blind? Or are you forgetting I've seen you in a bikini?"

"Shit, I did kind of forget that we've known each other for a long time, considering the fact that today is the longest stretch of time we've been together and not wanted to kill one another" you giggle as he shakes his head at you.

You finish walking around, seeing everything you can possibly see. "I think I'm going to grab some ice cream; you want some?" you ask him as you turn to face him.

"Yeah, that sounds good," he says grinning at you, "I'm going to the gift shop."

"Don't buy anything ridiculous" you say, pointing your finger at his chest trying to pretend you are being serious.

"Yes, dear" he sarcastically rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a quick kiss to your cheek before he ducks into the small shop near the exit.

You get ice cream for the two of you and sit down on a small bench to wait for him. You see him emerge with two more bags in his hands and you can't help but grin and shake your head at him.

You hand him his ice cream as he sits down beside you. "So, what did you get?" you say trying to peek into the bags.

"For your books," he smiles as he pulls out a bookmark with Anne Boleyn on it, "I kind of got the feeling she might be your favorite."

"Thank you," you smile at him, "she really is, although, I'm a bit curious as to how you figured that out."

"Well, you lingered a while in the Chapel here, close to where she's buried and I kind of felt like you didn't want to leave her. You did the same thing in the Abbey earlier, with Elizabeth I. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't have to google it to see how they are connected," he says, a shy smile on his lips.

"I can't believe you've been paying that much attention to me today" you say quietly, blinking back a few tears.

"I've always paid attention to you, y/n, I just didn't show it until now" he says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"So, something for your books" he says nodding towards the bookmark, "and something for your bed" he says as you raise an eyebrow at him, your curiosity definitely peaked as he mentions your bed, before he hands you a small bear dressed in a Yeoman Warder costume.

You let out a little giggle "wasn't sure where you were going with that one, Chris, could've been anything in that bag, but I love this, it's perfect," you say as you lean over to quickly kiss his cheek.

"What's in the other bag?" you ask him, presuming it is something for himself.

"Well, I got this really cool ale tankard shaped like a skull," your eyes widen as he hands it to you, "hmm that's nice, thank God it's just something to drink beer out of and not a new tattoo." You notice his eyes light up when you mention a tattoo.

"No, uh uh, don't even think about it, skulls don't go with your Mike Wazowski vibe, babe" you say, closing your eyes when you realize you've just called him babe.

You open them back up to see him staring at you, a playful smile on his lips. "Want to see what else I got?" he asks, and you silently hope he's going to overlook your slip as you nod at him.

He pulls out a book about the history of the Tower along with his own bookmark with a knight on it, "can't let you be the only history nerd can I, babe?" he chuckles tapping you on the nose with the bookmark.

"Oh, don't think I'm going to let you live that down for a while" he grins as you bury your face in your hands.

You both finish your ice cream, and he puts all his purchases back into the bags as you carry the empty cups over to the trash can.

He meets you as you both walk towards the exit, "they also had this amazing chess set, but it was too bulky to carry home," he says, "that seems reasonable" you smile at him. "So, I'm having it shipped to the house instead," he grins, clearly overly ecstatic about his purchase.

"And I really wanted this massive suit of armor they had in there, but I don't think I have anywhere to put it so..." he shrugs his shoulders.

"Oh my God, you are never allowed into a gift shop alone, ever again," you shake your head at him.

"Looks like you are stuck shopping with me then, babe" he says wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your temple.

 "You really aren't going to let me forget that are you?" you roll your eyes playfully at him.

"Nope, not a chance" you clasp your hand over his mouth. "Don't say it" you chuckle. But as soon as you remove your hand "babe" he winks at you. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn't make your heart flutter every time he said it though.

You make your way back to the underground station and once you get settled into your seats, you fall into a comfortable silence. He wraps his arm around your shoulders while you lean your head on his shoulder and slip your fingers through his as you pull your phone out to see if you've heard from Emily lately.

"Holy shit," he says as he glances at your phone.

"What?" you look at him confused.

"Have you not noticed all of those follow requests that you have?" he says as he scrolls through them by the hundreds.

"Well, I turned my notifications off because my phone was vibrating itself to death, but yes, I've noticed all of those follow requests, I just don't have the energy to delete them right now. Guess that's what happens when 3 Premier League footballers follow you within 24 hours or so of each other. I'm sure someone somewhere has me dating or fucking all three of you. Oohh I'm going to like some posts, that will really send them into a tailspin" you giggle.

"I'm sorry" he whispers as he presses a kiss to the side of your head, "I can get someone to help you with all of that if you want me to" he says frowning slightly.

"It's ok, you're worth it, I guess" you smile, reaching up rub your hand along his jaw.

He keeps looking through the requests, seeing if he recognizes any. "That's Mase's private account, and that one's Chilly's, if you want to accept them. And there is Sophia of course, and Kai, and Reece. You're racking up your footballer body count," he chuckles. "And I accidentally hit accept on my private account" he winks at you.

"Hmm, accidentally clicking on things, that reminds me" you say as you go through liking a few of his posts, "someone liked a post of mine from about 2 years ago yesterday. Having a little stalk were you?" you grin at him.

"Well, it was a nice picture, and it was on my boat" he says as he tickles your sides.

"So, were you liking it because of me, or because of your boat?" you ask him as you toy with his fingers.

"I liked it, because it was you, on my boat, now can we talk about something else because this isn't the place for me to be picturing how amazing you looked in that tiny blue bikini that left very little to the imagination," he says quietly as he pleads with you to change the subject.

You switch to a different train, Christian showing you a few things about the app you are using to navigate the city. You settle into your seats for the final leg of your trip, a bit surprised at how easily you’ve both gotten used to being this close to one another.

He leans his head back on the seat, draping his arm over your legs that are propped up on the seat in front of you. You take his hand in one of yours, while slowly dragging the fingers of your other hand up and down his forearm. He hums in appreciation as he softly closes his eyes.

“You want to grab some dinner, later?” he says, never opening his eyes.

“Yeah, that sounds nice” you whisper as you lean your head over on his shoulder.

“Good, because I’m not quite ready for this day to end yet,” he sighs and you shake your head against his shoulder whispering “me either.”

You make your way back to Christian’s house, both of you staying fairly quiet as you walk back, hands linked together. Once you reach his front door, he stops you pulling you closer to him. “Meet me in an hour? he whispers against your jaw, causing you to shudder slightly as his hands wrap around your back. “Ok” you answer him, struggling to force your brain to think of words as you wrap your hands around the back of his neck.

He pulls you into a tight hug, craving more of the way every inch of his body reacts to the sensation of having you against him. He places a few lingering kisses along your jaw enjoying the way you hum in appreciation. “I really have had the best day with you, y/n” he says leaning back to look you in the eyes. “me too” is all you can manage to get out, suddenly nervous and overwhelmed by everything that seems to be happening between the two of you.

“Come on” he says opening and holding the door for you so that you can walk into the house.

You both disappear upstairs and you hop into the shower. Pulling your hair back so that you don’t get it wet. You step out of the shower, turning on some music as you pull on a t-shirt and shorts before touching up your makeup and brushing through your hair, adding a few soft curls before you start deciding what you want to wear. As you sit in the floor, re-folding some of the things in your suitcase you hear a quiet knock.

You open the door to find Christian standing there, a shy smile dressing his lips. “Do you mind if I hang out in here while you finish getting ready?” he asks you, eyes softening a bit.

You shake your head and motion for him to come in. He moves over to sit on the bed, stretching back and relaxing against the headboard while you sit back down in the floor next to your suitcase returning to your decision about what to wear. “Do you know where you want to go for dinner?” you ask him, hoping that his answer might inspire you.

“I was thinking about a little Mexican place that isn’t too far if you don’t mind walking again” he answers you.  

“No, I don’t mind, at all” you smile over at him deciding on a simple, flowy dress. “I’m going to go change” you say as you grab your dress and head into the ensuite, he nods, his eyes following you.

You change quickly, slipping your dress on and spritzing on some perfume, mentally noting the shoes you want to pair with it since they will be comfortable for however far you may be walking.

You come out of the bathroom to see Christian sitting on the bed, holding the picture of you and him and Emily. “Can I ask you something?” he says as he looks down at the photo. “Sure” you whisper nervously as you take a few steps closer to him. “Why didn’t you drink the other night when they mentioned kissing someone sitting at the table?”

“Oh, Christian, I” you stammered a bit, “I guess I knew if I drank, it would be obvious who I had kissed, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted that shared, and honestly, I wasn’t sure you even remembered,” you look down at your hands.

He places the picture back on the table, standing up and closing the gap between you quickly. He cups his hands under your jaw tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. “So, you do remember it then?” he says leaning in closer and closer to you as you feel his breath fan across your face. “Of course, I remember, Christian. How on earth could I forget?” you sigh.

He takes one more glance over your face, looking for any expression that might tell him you don’t want him to kiss you and when he doesn’t find one, he finally brushes his lips against yours. You both sigh into the kiss, giving in to whatever it is that you’ve both been fighting against. One of his hands slips around to gently hold the back of your head while the other blindly searches for your hand, once he finds it he intertwines his fingers with yours, giving them a squeeze, while you twist your other hand into the t-shirt he is wearing.

The kiss is delicate, tender, both of you trying to convey everything you’ve felt over the past twenty-four hours, or possibly the past few years. You both pull away naturally, bright smiles plastered across your faces. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he whispers, “actually I’ve been wanting to do that since the last time I kissed you” he says as he presses his lips against yours again, a bit heavier this time as you wrap your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him into you as close as you possibly can.

He moves to kiss along your jaw, whispering into your ear “can I tell you you look beautiful?” he sighs as you nod lightly. “Because, you do look beautiful, you are always beautiful to me” he says, punctuating his words with kisses across your cheeks and along your jaw. “Now, I’m the one that needs to be pinched” he says placing one final kiss to the tip of your nose, chuckling when you pinch him lightly.

“So, dinner?” he asks, pressing one more kiss to your lips.

Part 4

    @batmansb1tch  @breakablehcaven​ @neverinadream​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @mounthings @pulisicsgirl @opheliainwonderland​ @alwaysclassyeagle​ @dinonuggiesforliferz​

[darl-ingfics]

Christmas Chaos

Fandom: SHINee (+ SM family)

Sickie/Whumpee: Kibum (general illness)

Caregiver(s): SHINee

Word Count: 1,661

Notes: Early in my Kpop fan days, I fell in love with the concept of all the SM artists being like a family. A lot of those ideas are carrying over into these stories. It's likely I will eventually write the 'well one of us is simply going to have to change' story someday. For now, enjoy this little holiday themed shenanigan; it's more 'hey look, they're friends' than sickfic, but it is what it is.

The holiday concert was, without a doubt, the most unhinged thing SM ever allowed their artists to do. No matter how hard the managers tried to keep their groups in line, no matter how seamless and bulletproof the show order seemed, the artists always, ALWAYS found a way to cause chaos. It was often their last engagement of the year, and it was on their home turf. No competition, no live broadcasts. Just performing for their fans on stage with their label mates. 

Which, as many an SM manager had had to learn the hard way over the years, was just a fancy way to spell ‘tomfoolery.’

While it was standard at every holiday concert for each group to perform a few songs (usually the year’s biggest hits and one or two holiday tunes), the novelty of the program was the artists’ ability to perform with others outside of their group. The opportunities were endless. Performance pitches were due a month and a half before the show, and the chosen numbers were then created and rehearsed entirely by the idols themselves. It was the perfect way to end the year.

And this year was certainly no exception; the performance proposals had been particularly intriguing, and the concert’s length had been extended by ten minutes to accommodated a few additional acts (most groups had also agreed to shorten their sets to allow for more creativity). 

SHINee, specifically, was very busy during this show, something Jinki, as the leader, had had memorized since the setlist dropped last month. All five members were in the opening number; then, their group performance was fourth after Super Junior and Red Velvet; next, Minho was doing a rap battle with Yunho and Amber; then, Kibum and Jinki were in a partner number with Seohyun and Tiffany; then Taemin was dancing with Kai; then Jonghyun was in the quarter with Taeyeon, Luna, and Baekhyun; and finally, all five were in the finale. 

They would be busy practically the whole time. Or, at least they’d be busy as a group at the start, and would then take turns running around after that. 

Which gave them very few chances to fully relax, but they caught a moment together after Taemin’s duet when there were still two full group performances before Jonghyun’s quartet. Their dressing room was uncharacteristically quiet, and Jinki wasn’t sure what to thank for that, but had narrowed it down to two potential causes: 1. post-performance burnout, or 2. a sick Key. While he’d tried very, very hard to hide it, it was incredibly obvious to his members that Kibum was not feeling well. He was unsteady on his feet, sweating more than usual, swallowing funny, wincing at loud noises and bright lights and every funny swallow. Most significantly, he relied on the backtrack more than singing live, something he rarely did. All in all, Kibum faked healthy marvelously; no one outside of their group had likely picked up on it at all.

But this was his group.

So when Kibum had changed out of his partner number outfit into his finale clothes and had slumped on the couch next to Jinki, resting his head on the leader’s shoulder, they all knew he was barely keeping it together. There was little Kibum hated more than physical contact mid-concert; his adrenaline was usually too high to even consider getting that close to another person. And that silent demand for affection was enough to warrant him some peace and quiet. 

It was comfortable silence, a space for all of them to breathe and enjoy each other’s presence without the need to entertain. It was nice. 

The first real sound any of them made was Jonghyun looked at his phone and announcing quietly, as if to himself, that he had to change for his next number. He got up and moved to his pile of clothes, riffling around a bit before selecting a pile and ducking into the bathroom. Just as the door clicked behind him, there was a knock on the door to the dressing room. 

“Everybody decent?” Amber. 

“Physically or morally?” Minho called back. Taemin snorted, saving his game on his DS for later, anticipating shenanigans as soon as that door opened. 

Sure enough, said door swung open a moment later, Amber waltzing in, already dressed for the finale. “I would never question your character, sir,” she said in answer to Minho’s question. “I already know you were never morally decent.”

Minho chuckled as Luna and Sulli followed Amber into the room. Sulli was in her finale t-shirt like Amber, but Luna was prepped for the quartet in a cute red Santa dress and thigh high black boots. It took the girls no time at all to spread out around the room, easing right into the same comfortable energy as before. “Where’s your mom?”

“Vic’s helping Krystal change out of her last costume, the one with all the buttons and stuff?” Sulli replied, pulling a face at just the thought of such a costume. “But then they’ll be on their way.”

“Where’s Jonghyun?” Luna asked, looking around a bit skeptically. “We have to go backstage in like… ten minutes.”

“He’s changing now.” Jinki pointed towards the closed bathroom door. The motion seemed to draw attention to the duo on the couch. 

“Hyung, are you good?” Sulli asked Kibum, voice soft as she shifted to sit on the arm of the couch next to him. Her fingers gently stroked against his shoulder. 

Kibum shrugged once, melting at her touch. “No, I feel like shit.” 

Amber wrinkled her nose, her usual sarcasm winning out over concern. “Ew, what’s wrong with you?” 

“Probably you being so close to me.” Key stuck his tongue out at her. Amber stuck hers out right back, silently celebrating that sign of life from him. “But really, I think I’m coming down with a virus or something. Just that lovely year end hitting like a fucking train bullshit.”

“Well I see that your language surely hadn’t been infected…” Minho chastised jokingly. 

Kibum pointed a warning finger at him. “I know where you sleep.”

Minho scoffed. “Right back at ya, buddy.”

“I don’t think that threat works for you in this scenario, hyung,” Taemin pointed out, earning laughs from everyone not named Minho. 

“Seriously, though, can we help at all?” Sulli asked, turning her attention back to Kibum. 

Kibum shook his head as Taemin answer, “Nah, we’ve offered him everything possible and he only accepted the painkillers and Jinki cuddles.”

“I have been told they have healing properties,” Jinki supplied helpfully. 

“I believe it,” Amber added. 

“Okay, not to completely change the subject,” Luna said, worrying at her lip as she stared at her phone, “but where is Jonghyun..?!” 

Luna was cut off by the bathroom door swinging open and Jonghyun posing in the doorframe, adorned in the exact same Santa dress and thigh high boots as she was. The room fell into immediate chaos. Minho cackled, falling to the floor in hysterics while Amber wolf whistled. Taemin was laughing so hard he fell off of his chair, nearly pulling Sulli down with him as she was bent over, laughing so hard she was in tears. Both of them laughed even harder at themselves. 

Even Kibum chuckled, his chest vibrating against Jinki’s arm. 

“Well, one of us simply has to change,” Jonghyun said, mimicking the tone Luna had used three months ago when she’d pulled the same trick on him. 

Luna’s eyes rolled skyward. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right. I’m hilarious.” 

At that moment, Taeyeon’s head peeked around the still open door. “Oh, Luna, we were looking for you too! Is Jonghyun…?” She froze mid-sentence, catching sight of said vocalist still posed in the bathroom doorway. “Oh!”

Baekyun’s head appeared at that moment, and his jaw immediately dropped. “Wait! I thought we decided against that bit!” he exclaimed. 

Jonghyun shrugged. “We did, but I still had it packed in my bag and thought it was worth the joke. Clearly, it was.” He gestured around the room to the shocked faces and hysterical tears. “Besides, it’s not everyday I get to grace you all with the gift of my gorgeous legs.”

“Go change you goof, we got five minutes!” Luna exclaimed, pushing him softly on the arm, much to Jonghyung’s delight. As the door closed behind him, she rolled her eyes again. “Men.”

Baekhyung shrugged. “I’ll say it: his legs do look good in the boots.”

“THANK YOU!” Jonghyun’s voice carried through the door. 

Once Jonghyun was changed into his actual stage outfit, the quartet left, Amber and Sulli close behind them. Minho followed them out, wound up enough to sow chaos elsewhere, and Taemin left in search of something (he hadn’t been entirely clear on that point). But they were all dressed and ready for their final number, so Jinki wasn’t too worried letting them go. They’d survived the concert up until that point; he figured it was an okay time to let his leader persona rest. 

After a few moments of silence, Kibum asked, “Did he do that for me?” Kibum asked.

Jinki’s brow furrowed. “Did who do what?”

Kibum peeked up at him suspiciously. “Jonghyun. I was part of him and Baekyun scheming to throw the girls off, but also thought they’d dropped it. Did he do that for me?” 

Jinki shrugged the shoulder his dongsaeng wasn’t leaning on. “I don’t know. It’s not like he came to me last night with that exact outfit and asked if he should bring it or not.”

A small smile tugged at Kibum’s lips. “So it was to make me laugh?”

“It’s possible it was to make everyone’s day a little brighter. But he may or may not have done it specifically for you.” Kibum’s smile widened, but he only gave Jinki half a second to see it before burying his face into the leader’s shoulder. Jinki smiled, satisfied. “Merry Christmas, Kibum.”

“Merry Christmas, hyung.