#is that not enough for it to be special itself?

[darkbluekies]

Christmas tendencies

Yandere!king x fem!reader

Summary: spending Christmas with Edmund can't go wrong<3 can it?

Warnings: Edmund not being nice, in fact being quite naughty, jealousy

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: i thought it'd be a waste to not post this when it was so near completion! So please enjoy and have a merry Christmas if you do celebrate it♡

As if on purpose, the snow has graced the earth for Christmas after not showing itself for the entirety of december. But now, a thick layer of snow covers everything that was once dead and grey. You can’t help but feel excitement. Maybe Christmas with Edmund won’t be hell after all? 

You’re standing in one of the gigantic windows, looking out over the castle grounds—the very same you’re not allowed out in. The castle’s gardeners have decorated every bush, every tree, with lights and decorations. 

“You’ve been standing here for a good forty five minutes now, my jewel”, Edmund says as he walks over to you, fixing his golden cufflinks. “How much more interesting can it get after ten?” 

“You don’t get it”, you reply over your shoulder. “The gardeners have spent a lot of time decorating the grounds, shouldn’t one get to admire their hard work?”

You feel how Edmund comes up behind you, sneaks his arms around your waist and buries his chin into your shoulder. 

“The staff has put a great detail into the interior too”, he mumbles. “Why don’t you stare at that for an hour or two?”

You scoff. 

“I think it’s pretty”, you reply and turn your eyes out the window again. “With the snow and everything. Besides, I’ve already inspected every decoration inside, I helped hang them up.”

“You did, and it’s very pretty. Just like you. I like your dress.”

It’s a red velvet dress reaching down to the floor with long, cape sleeves. 

You turn around to get a look at him. He's wearing a black suit with loose white pieces that puff out. Golden cufflinks and a white bow. His fluffy dark hair has been brushed back, face newly shaven—although there never was anything to shave to begin with.

“You look like you've been tortured”, you joke.

“Haha, funny”, he replies sarcastically, clearly not impressed. “I've told them time and time again that I have an extremely sensitive scalp but no one listens, they force me to do silly hairstyles like this. I think I must have lost at least half of my hair.”

You reach to fix a strand of hair that escaped his hairstyle. You can feel him shudder under your fingertips.

“You’ll live”, you say. “Besides, you look more grown this way.”

“Do I?” Edmund smirks proudly. “Do I look manly?”

“Don’t push it.”

He scoffs. 

Weirdly enough, Edmund has agreed on letting you out of the castle today. Just because it's a special day. The townsfolk are having a market that you have begged to visit and who is Edmund to deny your Christmas wish?

“Are you ready, my love?” he asks and takes your hand. “The carriage it out on the front yard. Let’s get this over with.”

“Can’t you at least pretend to be excited?” you ask with a sad pout. 

He sighs and rolls his eyes before nodding. 

“I’ll have to take a long, scolding bath right after coming back”, he mutters. “Who knows what kind of diseases they can carry? Oh, you’re taking that bath with me, by the way. My Christmas wish.”

He’s like a child when it comes to your bare body, getting eyes wide as moons when he gets to see the most vulnerable parts of you. It confuses you. In his past he has allowed himself to a majority of women and their bodies, so why does he look at you as if he’s never seen it before? 

It’s one of the few times you see him without his cocky exterior. He looks at you with eyes of gratitude, as if showing yourself to him is the greatest gift of mankind. 

Edmund holds your hand tightly as you walk out to the royal carriage. The driver holds the door open for you, but Edmund insists on helping you up in it. He sits down in front of you. The carriage is decorated with golden details and small cherubs.

“You don’t have to look like you’re being driven to your execution”, you say and raise your eyebrows. 

“I’m not happy about this”, he says. “This is something you want.”

“Can’t you be happy for me, then? Please, Eddie?”

His cheeks take on a red tone. The nickname has only been used by you, ever. You gave it to him, you’re the only one that is allowed to say it. The firs time you had said it, he hadn’t known how to react. He had been staring at you with large eyes, wondering what prompted you to give him a nickname when no one else had ever imagined to do such a thing. At first, he was unsure what he thought of the name. He was king Edmund. Had once been prince Edmund. Rarely Edmund. Never Eddie. 

“Fine”, he says and clears his throat, trying to play it off. “I’ll try. But don’t call me that when we’re there.”

“Are you scared that the townsfolk will lose respect for you if they hear that you have a cute, little nickname?” you giggle. 

Edmund rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. 

“No”, he says, smirking devilishly. “Because I don’t want other people to know what you call out in bed.”

Your jaw hangs open in shock and you grab the pillow behind your back, hitting him. Edmund covers himself with his arms, laughing. 

“Watch the hair!” he shouts. 

“You didn’t like the hair anyway”, you remind him. 

“It’s Christmas, you’re supposed to be nice. Don’t be naughty!”

“Naughty? Who the hell started talking about naughty stuff? You started it!”

Edmund laughed. His blue eyes glittered. 

The carriage rolls into the town. You turn your eyes out the window to look at what you’ve been watching from afar. You get out together, Edmund holding onto you so that you don’t fall. The townsfolk keep a distance, knowing that the knights will go to attack if they come to close. Their bright eyes watch on as if they’ve seen something extraordinary. And maybe, you think, for them this is something extraordinary. 

Their eyes follow you to the christmas market. 

“All eyes are making me shy”, you whisper to Edmund. 

“Drink it all in, darling”, Edmund replies quietly. “They worship you, but not as much as I do … and if they try I’m going to kill them.”

“Be quiet!” you hiss. 

Edmund scoffs and rubs your back with his hand. You walk through the streets to the town’s square where multiple small sheds are put up, full of candy, baked bread, knitted goods and alcohol. While you walk around chit-chatting with the vendors, Edmund stands close behind you, a hand on you always. A warning, to everyone around you. You are his, and no one is going to forget that—absolutely not you. 

You buy something from every stand and insist of carrying it yourself. Edmund can’t understand why you want such … cheap crap. He can give you the same things but done well, made by professionals who cost him a fortune. He doesn’t let you eat anything and keeps a constant, watchful eyes around. 

“Smile a bit more, why don’t you?” he mutters in your ear. 

His jealousy is like a wildfire, spreading through him quickly and dangerously. With no easy way to stop it. 

“Edmund”, you whisper quietly. “Stop it.”

“You bought so much from that man”, he continued. “What did you hope to achieve?”

“Edmund!”

He stays silent the rest of the Christmas market. As soon as you get back to the carriage, he can’t keep quiet anymore. 

“Those are so fucking ugly”, says as the door to the carriage closes. 

“That is so unnecessarily mean”, you hiss back at him. “They don’t have what you have. They do their best. And, for having as little as they do, I think they look great.”

You hold your new treasures in your lap closely. 

“I don’t want to spend more time with you if you’re going to be like this”, you mumble without looking at him. 

You’re happy for your new things. But he doesn’t understand. Edmund sighs heavily, clenches his jaw and nods. 

“Okay”, he mutters and takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry … but I could have given you so much better things. If you wanted new mittens, I could have given you them. These things … who knows what could actually be in them?”

You put on the hand knitted mittens. 

“Take them off”, Edmund says, but he doesn’t sound angry or demanding like before. “Darling, my jewel, I’m serious. I don’t want you getting a rash, or something.”

“We’re taking a bath when we get back, don’t we?”

Edmund sighs and gives up. You hold up your hands.

“Aren’t they kind of cute?” you ask. “A little?”

“Fuck no.”

“What if I had made them?”

“You wouldn’t have. If you had knitted mittens, they’d be a thousand times better.”

“You are so mean.” You keep your eyes on your hands. “You were jealous out there too.”

“Of them? Of those filthy peasants?”

“Of those men.”

Edmund leans back in his seat, jaw tightening. 

“Men”, he scoffs and turns his head towards the window. “I wouldn’t call them ‘men’.”

“Childish jealousy doesn’t look good on a king”, you point out.

“You like it when I’m childish though. You laugh, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“You don’t need to be jealous over them. I don’t know them.”

“Everyone wants you. And it makes me sick.”

“Everyone wants you too.”

“They want to be me. But they want you. And I will never let that happen. You are mine.”

“I know. You’re the last person to let me forget that.”

When you get back to the castle, the two of you walk straight to the bathroom where the maids have poured a hot bubble bath that is burning to the touch. Edmund holds you close to him in his arms. 

The rest of the day is spent in the big living room, in front of the gigantic christmas tree that needed a dozen workers to decorate. Edmund wanted the entire town to be able to see the lights from his tree. 

“Merry Christmas, my love”, he says and holds out a red box.

You remove the wrapping smd open the box, finding a necklace with large, round pearls. It's heavy in your hands, and even heavier around your neck.

“These pears cost me quite a lot”, Edmund says and touches the pearls carefully. “But they're cheap in comparison to what my love for you is worth.”

And he means it. He really does.

[lovegalor333]

Naughty List (nsfw)

part two of paigemas

paige bueckers x reader

a snow storm and power outage leaves you and paige no other option but to keep each other warm

⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆

“Turn it up more!” Paige shouts from the living room as you battle with the furnace, desperately trying to warm up the house. “I have!” You call back as you twist the dial to MAX. A snowstorm was currently sweeping through your state and after running inside post snowball fight, you and Paige were met with a freezing cold house.

“It’s not getting hotter.” Paige is right behind you now, arms wrapped around herself tightly, nose red from the minus temperatures. “I think it’s broken.” You pout, rubbing your hands together for some sort of heat. “You’ve got to be kidding. It’s freezing cold!” Paige groans, kneeling beside you to get a look at the furnace herself.

You’re side by side, brows furrowed looking at the furnace like either of you know how to fix it when everything cuts to black. For a moment, you think you’ve passed out from hypothermia but when you hear Paiges confused, “What the fuck?” You realise you’re still very much conscious and the power has just cut out.

With no heat and no lights, you and Paige scramble around the dark, cold house in search of candles and flashlights, “We could always start a fire.” Paige suggests and she lights the three small candles you found, “Paige. There’s no fireplace, the house would go up in flames.” You say looking at your girlfriend seriously. You loved Paige but sometimes she spoke without thinking.

“We have to do something. I think I might die I’m so cold. You can die from being cold right?” Paige asks with a shiver, “Ok Little Miss Dramatic, let’s get some blankets and huddle like penguins. We can keep each other warm. I’m sure everything will come back on soon enough.”

You and Paige bundle together on the couch, every blanket and duvet in the house piled on top of you. You’re in Paiges lap after she insisted it would keep her warmer and her arms are around your waist, hands tucked under the hoodie you’re wearing.

“I wish we could watch a movie or something, I’m so bored.” You grumbled, nestling further into Paige and she held you closer, hands under your sweater rubbing on your stomach. “I mean…I can think of something we can do.” She says against your neck and the heat of her breath makes your hairs stand on end.

“What? It’s dark and cold, there’s nothing-“ Your sentence is cut short as Paiges hand inches itself down your stomach and into your trousers, “Oh.” You breathe out, opening your legs wider for easier access. Paiges hand is cold against you and you shiver unconsciously, “Just relax.” She husks into your ear and you rest your head back onto her chest as her hand slips into your panties.

Paiges pays special attention to your clit. Rubbing soft circles over it and you hum in response to her touch, your body begins to warm immediately. “Feels good?” Paiges voice is thick and sensual and you buck your hips up, “S’good.” You mumble, eyes falling closed as pleasure begins to take over.

Paige runs her fingers through your folds, already sticky with your slick before pushing two inside of you. You gasp at the feeling of her slender digits filling you up and your mouth remains open as she pumps in and out, your breath heavy and panting.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Paige groans into your ear before sucking your earlobe into her mouth. You move your head to the side so she has better access and she presses her lips to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“Keep going.” You whine and your hand finds Paiges inbetween your legs and rests on top making sure she doesn’t stop her movements.

“Use me baby.” Paige coos, “Tell me how you want it.” Her voice is several octaves deeper and breath hot on your neck making your thoughts hazy and sordid. Your mind that was once focused on how to keep yourself warm was completely distracted by the building pressure in your stomach, the temperature could drop another ten degrees and you’d still feel like you were on fire.

“Faster…harder.” You moan coaxing Paiges hand to speed up and push in deeper. When her finger hits that soft, gummy spot your legs unconsciously writhe, “Shit. My clit…touch it.” You all but beg your girlfriend. Paige loved when you were vocal, telling her exactly how and where you wanted her. She always wanted to make you feel good, she prided herself on it, in fact.

“I said use me baby.” Paige softly asserts, her other hand moving to your thigh, she squeezes it tight, pulling your legs wider apart, “Do whatever you want.”

Your grip on Paiges hand tightens as you guide her fingertips to your clit, pressing them down and moving them in circles, just the way you like it. Just the way they’ve gotten you off so many times before.

Both yours and Paiges fingers were covered in your wetness and it made it easy for you to push them back down and inside, resuming the knocking motion against your g-spot. You could never get enough of Paige, no matter how deep inside you she was, no matter how fast she was driving in, no matter how close to you she was, you always wanted more.

You began to grind your hips on her fingers, your ass pressing into her crotch and the quivery moan that escaped her lips intoxicated you. If Paige Bueckers was a drug, you were an addict. “Shit baby, grinding on me like that makin’ me so wet.”

You were getting needy and desperate to cum and with one hand still focused on hammering Paiges fingers inside of you, you used your other to take her free hand and press it back to your clit. With your hips still grinding and both of Paiges hands on your sopping cunt, you knew your climax was imminent. “Gonna cum soon.” You breathed out and as if on cue, your legs began to twitch, pussy clenching as your heart hammered in your chest.

“That’s it baby, doing so good.” Paige praised, her lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck again. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, everything you were feeling was pushing you over the edge. Her fingers, her lips, her crotch against your ass, her chest rapidly rising and falling against your back, “Oh fuck, P! I’m cumming.” You cried out as your body jerked against hers.

You no longer had the energy to guide Paiges fingers but she continued without you, working you through your high, slowly easing her speed and pace as you relaxed into her.

Your eyes were closed as you basked in the post orgasm euphoria, rested on Paiges chest. You heard a faint click first before the lights flickered back on and the sound of hot air filtered out of the vents. You chuckled, “Perfect timing.”

“Uh huh, perfect timing for round two. Bedroom now. Need to taste you so bad.”

schedule out the window but i promise everything will be posted 😭🙂‍↕️

🏷️: @buecketsnbueckets @rosemariiaa @avvwritesstufff @sierrale8ne @blackbarbie96 @melpthatsme @jnkbueckers @cloclos-posts @onlyhereforpazzi @paigeshirleytemple @mattsmunchkin @bueckersbitch @rizzlerbuckets @numberonepartyanth3m @washing-machine-heart245 @katemartinlvr @girlslovee @taylynbueckers44 @thatonequeer0358 @the-other-half @xxxggggsh @evry1luvzza

[xhyjin]

thinking about nanami kento! (when am i not) with a s/o that is socially awkward/shy

he knew from the start that you were distant. during work parties, you never showed up, only clocking in to work and leaving once your duties were done, never lingering to chat or mingle. the rare times you did attend, you stayed in the corners, quietly observing with wide, nervous eyes and a faint blush coloring your cheeks. he couldn’t help but be intrigued, and one day, curiosity got the better of him. he approached you. your words stuttered, your face burned red, but there was something about the way you responded that made him instantly drawn to you. from that moment, you became his reason to look forward to work every day.

he began to notice the little things about you. how you stayed tucked away in your cubicle, only speaking to coworkers when necessary. how you spent your lunch breaks alone, either watching a show on your phone or quietly eating, lost in your own thoughts. and how, at the end of the day, he’d sometimes catch you smiling to yourself in the elevator, as though you’d found happiness in the smallest of things. it fascinated him how content you seemed in your own world, and after weeks of silently admiring you, he finally decided to approach you properly.

but he was careful—patient. he knew you were shy and reserved, so he didn’t want to overwhelm you. he started small, spending lunch breaks with you. at first, the silence between you both was awkward, though not unwelcome. you blushed furiously at the attention but didn’t push him away. instead, you quietly shared bits of your lunch with him, a subtle gesture that said, i’m glad you’re here. he knew you struggled with words, so he didn’t press. instead, he let his presence speak for itself, slowly building a bridge of comfort between the two of you.

when kento finally worked up the courage to ask you out, making it clear that this wasn’t just work-related but a date; you could hardly believe it. your eyes widened, and then you nodded eagerly, your happiness shining through. his heart swelled at your reaction. he had planned a simple outing, maybe a cafe, but seeing your excitement, he wanted to make it special. he made reservations at a nice restaurant, ensuring you’d have a secluded spot to enjoy your time without pressure.

the date started just as he expected. you were quiet, your voice barely above a whisper when you responded to him, sticking mostly to “yes” or “no” answers. but kento was nothing if not patient. he asked small, simple questions, easing you into a conversation, and when he mentioned something you loved, your entire demeanor changed. your eyes lit up, your voice grew stronger, and you started talking more, rambling on about your interests. you didn’t even realize how much you’d been speaking until the waitress interrupted to take your order. your face turned crimson as you sulked in embarrassment, worried you’d talked too much. but when you glanced at kento, his gaze was soft, a gentle smile on his lips, he looked utterly captivated.

ordering was its own challenge. you felt embarrassed, too shy to tell the waitress what you wanted. kento noticed your hesitation and, with a subtle nudge of his foot under the table, gave you something to focus on. you nudged him back, and it was enough to calm your nerves, allowing you to place your order. he was thoughtful like that, always finding quiet ways to make you feel at ease.

by the end of the date, you’d grown comfortable enough to start asking him questions. the two of you talked for so long that you didn’t notice the restaurant had emptied. when you finally left, the night felt far from over. kento drove you to the beach, where the two of you walked hand in hand along the shore. the sound of the waves filled the comfortable silence between you, and when you stopped to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water, he turned to you and asked, “may i kiss you?”

your heart raced, but you nodded, and when he kissed you, it was as if you were something fragile, precious. he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable, but under the glow of the moon, he couldn’t resist the beauty of the moment—or of you.

after that, the two of you continued to grow closer, going on more dates and eventually making it official. over time, you began to come out of your shell, though you still retained your social awkwardness. kento loved every part of you, from the way you stumbled over your words to the way you blushed under his gaze. to him, you were perfect exactly as you were, and he made sure you always knew it.

[dreamdragonkadia]

p.jackson x reader

You weren’t sure when exactly Percy started calling you “love.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You could pinpoint the first time he said it, but when it became his default for you? That was harder to place. If anyone asked Percy what he found most exciting about being in a relationship, he'd grin and say, "The nicknames, obviously." And oh, did he try plenty.

It started with the classics. “Babe” lasted for a solid few months. You’d hear it at random moments—whether he was tossing you a can of soda during a movie marathon or tugging you into a last-minute hug before a quest. But one day, as he passed you a granola bar while training, he made a face. "You deserve better than 'babe,'" he’d declared, like it was some sort of grand epiphany. “Too generic. You’re… you’re you.”

And so began Percy’s experimentation phase.

“Princess” made its debut during a campfire. You’d rolled your eyes at him, calling it “cheesy,” but he insisted it suited you. “Come on, it’s perfect. You’re badass enough to take on a cyclops but still fancy enough to deserve a tiara.” It stuck, kind of, but only when he was in an especially playful mood.

Then came “Beautiful.” It wasn’t anything special at first, just something he blurted one morning while handing you a plate of pancakes. But the way his face turned pink when he realized what he’d said made it impossible for you to tease him about it. That one lingered, though it was mostly reserved for quiet moments—soft whispers when the world felt like too much or murmurs as he held your hand under the stars.

But “Sweetheart”? That one had a purpose. It was Percy’s go-to for calming you down, for reminding you to breathe when your ADHD made the world spin too fast or when the stress of demigod life crept in. “Sweetheart,” he’d say, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

Then came “love.” And oh, did that one stick. You remember the first time he said it like it was yesterday. You’d been on a date, the rare kind where monsters weren’t interrupting and the world wasn’t crashing down on your shoulders. Somewhere along the night, the heel of your shoe broke. Classic demigod luck. Percy, being ever the gentleman, crouched down in the middle of the street without hesitation. His fingers were deft as he worked, steadying the broken strap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hold still,” he muttered, his warm hands brushing against your ankle as you wobbled slightly. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders for balance, and he glanced up at you with that crooked smile you loved so much.

When he finished, he pressed a kiss to your thigh, his lips lingering for just a second. “There you go, love,” he said, his voice soft, intimate in a way that made your chest feel tight and warm all at once.

You blinked down at him, heart pounding a little faster. It wasn’t the word itself that got to you—it was how he said it. Casual, like it had always been yours, but with an undercurrent of something so deep it nearly knocked the breath out of you.

Since then, it’s stuck, weaving itself seamlessly into your lives. He’ll toss it out when you least expect it—“What do you want for dinner, love?” or “Careful, love, that monster looks meaner than usual.” And every time he says it, your stomach does a little flip.

Because Percy Jackson doesn’t just say “love” like it’s a word. He says it like it’s a promise.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕬NGEL BABY

Katseye x fem!reader

summary: katseye’s eldest can’t seem to get enough of her bandmates, who gave them the permission to be so cute? here’s a compilation of moments y/n has had with every individual member of Katseye, handpicked by eyekons <3

warnings: none, just fluffy moments

Y/N ABSOLUTELY BEING LOVE DRUNK ON THE KATZ (FT. YOONCHAE AS A CO-PARENT)

Sophia Laforteza: On an interview with Billboard playing “How well do you know your bandmates?”, Y/N and Sophia were sat next to each other.

The interview was going smoothly—at least, that’s how it seemed at first. The band had gathered in a chic, minimalist room for the Billboard video. But it didn’t take long for the interviewer’s eyes to flicker between Y/N and Sophia, both of them sitting a little too close, Y/N’s knee brushing Sophia’s. It wasn’t unusual for them to be near each other, but today, something felt different.

Y/N had been unusually clingy all day. She kept stealing glances at Sophia, leaning in just a little too much when speaking, and the way she kept hovering around her made it obvious: they were really attached today. The rest of the girls noticed it almost immediately, but none of them could resist having a little fun with it.

“So, we’re here with Katseye,” the interviewer began with a bright smile. “It’s great to have you all here. And, of course, the music speaks for itself. But... I have to ask—Y/N, is everything alright? You seem a little... extra close to Sophia today.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard, but tried to play it cool, leaning back in her chair just slightly. “I—I’m fine. Just... you know. Just hanging out. No big deal.”

Sophia, who had been quietly observing her bandmate’s behavior, shot a playful smile at Y/N, the corners of her lips curving up. She knew exactly what was going on but wasn’t about to call them out too loudly—at least not yet. The others laughed at their eldest member being teased for her affectionate nature, unable to resist the urge to poke fun at the woman themselves.

“Oh, it’s definitely a big deal,” Manon said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Y/N’s got a serious attachment to Sophia today. Haven’t seen her this clingy in a while.”

Lara, ever the instigator, chimed in. “It’s like they’re physically connected. It’s honestly impressive. I didn’t know two people could share the same personal space so literally.”

Daniela added with a sly grin, “Yeah, Y/N, are you trying to move in with Sophia and kick poor Yoonchae out? I can already see the ‘sophisticated roommate’ aesthetic forming.”

“More like an ‘and they were roommates’ aesthetic,” Megan chimed, cackling at her own joke.

Y/N, cheeks flushed, glanced down at her hands. “I’m not—! It’s not like that, guys. I’m just... I don’t know. Feeling close to Sophia today, alright? Is that a crime?”

Sophia, who had been trying to stifle a laugh, leaned in with a teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s really fine, guys,” she said to the interviewer, her voice light but carrying a touch of mischief. “Y/N’s just a little extra affectionate today. They’ve got a lot of love to give, I guess.”

The interviewer raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “It’s definitely something we’re noticing,” they replied with a grin. “But, Y/N, is this a regular thing? Or is this just a special day?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I mean, can you blame me? I guess Sophia’s looking a little too cute today, I needed to support her.”

“Supportive, huh?” Manon smirked, leaning forward in her chair. “You know, I’ve heard of having each other’s backs, but you’re practically on Sophia’s back at this point.”

Lara let out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re like her human shadow. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you to take a step back and breathe for a second.”

Y/N sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m clingy today. But it’s not that bad.”

“That bad?” Daniela teased, crossing her arms. “I mean, we did see you whisper something into Sophia’s ear a minute ago. Was that an emergency cuddle request?”

Sophia, still chuckling at the whole situation, nudged Y/N with her shoulder, a soft but knowing look on her face. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N groaned, her face turning redder by the second. “You guys are the worst. Can we please talk about the album? Or literally anything else? Please.”

The interviewer laughed along with the rest of the band, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the bandmates. “Sure, sure,” they said, still grinning. “But one last question before we move on—Y/N, are you sure there’s not something more going on with you and Sophia? The way you’re sitting so close, it’s starting to look like a rom-com.”

“As if you guys wouldn’t kill to be the co-lead in a rom-com with Sophia.” Y/N protested, but even she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

Manon shook her head. “Yeah, right. We’ve got the whole thing figured out. Can’t fool us, Y/N.”

The band erupted into laughter, and Y/N, despite being embarrassed, couldn’t help but join in. Sophia nudged her again, a quiet reassurance in her touch, and in that moment, Y/N realized—despite the teasing, the awkwardness, and the jokes—Sophia wasn’t going anywhere. Neither were any of their bandmates.

But even as the conversation shifted, the warmth between Y/N and Sophia didn’t go unnoticed—Sophia and Y/N, best ship?

Manon Bannerman: During Manon’s live when she was trying on different wigs and outfits, Y/N joined in halfway through the live just watching her try differnet things on like a personal modelling show

As Manon tossed her cap aside to fish through her pile of clothes for another hat, Y/N kept her phone company to carry on with the live. Fans could hear Manon make noises here and there as she dug through her closet, but most of them were pretty engaged with the woman reading their comments.

“‘Y/N, what’s your favourite thing about Manon?’ Oh, that’s a very good question,” Y/N announced, looking up to ponder about the question. “There’s so many things I love about her.”

“You’re such a cheeseball, you freak nasty hoe.”

Y/N chuckled at Manon’s remark, glancing between Manon changing and the camera, making sure the Ghanaian singer was kept offscreen as she switched into a new outfit.

“I would say… Manon definitely pulls me out of my comfort zone a lot. She takes me to places to do things I never would’ve done myself if I wasn’t with her,” Y/N chuckled, “I’ve become so much more comfortable being myself with different people on different places thanks to her. She’s really molded me into the person I am today.”

Manon coos, pouting and throwing the older an ‘aww’.

“Yeah, I’m really grateful for Manon, but she can also be a real loud spirit sometimes.” Y/N mumbled through gritted teeth to the camera, leaning forward as if telling the eyekons a secret.

“Hey, way to ruin the moment,” Manon barked, tossing a hoodie straight at her head.

As the older squealed in surprise at the material colliding with her head, it gradually morphed into a stunned gasp at the outfit Manon had put on. Her hands flew to cover her mouth as her eyes widened, the live grew silent for a moment before Manon’s laughter at Y/N’s reaction rung evidently.

“Oh my God, you look absolutely stunning, babe. Get in here right the hell now,” Y/N reached out, her hand grabbing at Manon’s arm to drag the woman into frame.

Manon did a little spin for the camera, pouting and winking as she flaunted her outfit. She had a camo cap on, a skin-tight dollar bill shirt and some low waisted dark blue jorts that showed off her slender figure.

“Face card, lethal. Body, tea. Oh my God, this woman.”

Y/N gasped, a hand over her chest and falling backwards to lie flat on the floor. She crossed her arms, closing her eyes. “I’m actually dead. Dead by being gagged by such a pretty lady.”

Manon’s infectious laughter reverberated off the walls of the room, leaning backwards and away from the camera to drape herself over Y/N in a tight embrace. The two of them a clump on the floor, the fans spent the next two minutes just watching them laugh and cuddle.

“Wait, wait, I want you to do a catwalk.” Y/N perked up.

She repositioned the phone, ushering for Manon to stand at the other side of the room. Holding up three fingers to countdown, Manon began strutting her way towards the camera. Y/N let out wolf whistles, a hand over her mouth to muffle a squeal as she hyped the woman up.

“God is a woman and she’s posing for me,” Y/N teased, “I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

Maybe Y/N and Manon is the best ship in Katseye, who else showers their friend with compliments the way Y/N does?

Daniela Avanzini: [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Dance Practice for 2024 MAMA Awards (Mainly Daniela & Y/N Goofing Off)

Moving with the beat had never been a problem for Y/N, the woman practically had perfect rhythm. It was what made her such a talented producer, she could forge a beat out of anything with just her mouth. But something about this choreography was stumping the eldest member of Katseye, and no matter how many times she’d ask their instructor about it, she still just couldn’t get the hang of it.

Daniela and Megan were in their own little world, already syncing together for the next part of the choreography none of the others had learnt yet.

The camera panned from the main dancers to Y/N, who seemed to be struggling to execute a certain back-bend motion smoothly. Sophia was beside her, picking up tips on how to make her motions more fluid as well. After a couple seconds of footage of them just trying, it cut to Y/N waving a hand and walking off after thanking their instructor.

The camera followed the Katseye member to their water station, where the girl eyed the camera, shaking her head.

“I’m tapped out. I love a challenge, and I’m grateful they gave me the move instead of one of the other girls, but this is taking me out.” She mumbled to the camera, sloshing around a mouthful of water before swallowing it. Sweaty and exposed, Y/N fanned herself. “If you’re watching this after the MAMA performance, please don’t hate on me. I really tried here, Eyekons, I’m just not flexible enough.”

Done with the next section of the choreography, Daniela decided to stroll over to the camera, still trained on Y/N.

She could see why the crew was focusing on her more, she was wearing a wife-beater and some really low waisted gray sweats. It was the gym guy combo most tiktok’s loved thirsting over. Smart PR move to appeal to that audience.

Taken aback by Daniela coming onscreen, Y/N hadn’t anticipated the hug the younger member was about to entrap her in. Nonetheless, her arms were open and she welcomed the Latina into frame. “Oh, Dani, perfect timing. I actually needed to ask you for a quick favour.”

The blonde nodded, “Shoot.”

“I know you’re in the centre for this move, but I wanted to know if there was any tricks I can use to be able to make the transition between me standing and me falling to my knees to bend smoother.” Y/N’s hands rested on her hips, watching the Latina’s expression twitch as she thought of ways to help.

“Okay, wait, show me what you’re doing now.”

The camera backed away, giving the two space before Y/N ran through the moves once. She ended with the move on the floor, sitting before staring back up at Daniela for a reaction.

The Latina clapped, “That was already pretty smooth, I don’t even know how to make it look better than it already does.”

“Dani…” Y/N whined, propping herself up, “Stop being nice and just tell me the truth. That move felt clunkier than an elephant tap dancing.”

Daniela giggled at the older’s joke, leaning against her with an arm over her shoulder. “I can assure you, Y/N, you’re undermining yourself. You look so much better than you think you do.”

Y/N suddenly bent down, picking the Latina up and setting her over her shoulder with her ass in the air, earning a loud shrill scream from Daniela. The camera followed the two, panning from a red Daniela forwards to Y/N, who was carrying her around the room.

“Dani’s too nice for her own good, but if I could just kidnap and have her be mine forever, I would.”

Come on, Daniela wouldn’t let anybody else do that to her, Dann/n truthers where we at?

Lara Raj: [ WEVERSE LIVE ] KICKBACK STUDIO SESSION WITH LARA & Y/N

“No, no, we love Surf Curse. Lara and I have actually been talking about producing a song on the next that’s like an indie rock vibe, but I don’t think we’ve got the go for it yet.” Y/N announced, her focus on the computer in front of her as her hand tinkered with the soundboard. She had an electric guitar in her lap, a pick in her free hand and you could see Lara holding a microphone in the background.

“Yeah, we absolutely love The Backseat Lovers, uh… Wallows, Hotel Ugly—Y/N and I have a designated playlist just for indie rock,” Lara said. “Wait, should we show them the demo we’ve been working on? Like just the chorus or something?”

The older shrugged, glancing over at her phone sitting on the table, the immediate influx of comments urging them to play their song was criminal. Y/N chuckled at the fans’ reaction, “I think they really, really want to hear it.”

Lara nodded, “Then let’s get it.”

Y/N searched for a file among her many saved demos in her folder, clicking on one titled, “Growing Old (the one by the narwhals)”. Lara nodded, flipping through their songbook of lyrics to find the page that was titled the same. It was definitely one of both their favourites, of all the demos they have produced together.

“Okay, guys, so basically I’ve recorded the drums and bass to this song, but I’ll be playing the main tune on my guitar. Lara will be singing it and if you guys like it, we might pitch it to our team to get it on the next comeback.” Y/N said, looking back at the Indian singer, who gave her a thumbs up.

Clicking the space bar on her keyboard, it played.

“I’m growing old… my thoughts are changing, but will you change with me?” Lara’s silky voice rung into the microphone, the only sound in the room over the rough music. Y/N nodded along, fingers working the guitar strings as her eyes watched her bandmate intently. “Oh, will you change with me?”

user01 omg Y/N’s literally in love

user02 Need someone to look at me the way Y/N looks at Lara

user03 IF SOMEONE WROTE THIS FOR ME ID FOLD

user04 they’re stronger than me cuz i’d fall in love

As about thirty seconds of their song played, Y/N had a big smile on her face, bearing her teeth in pride as she clicked for the track to come to a halt.

The moment the song ended, the older set her guitar, nearly tackling the Indian to the floor in a bear hug.

“Oh my God, you’re actually a Godsend,” Y/N squealed, “That song will never ever get old because it’s you singing it to me.”

user05 SHES SO GF FOR THAT??

user06 Why is Y/N so shippable

user07 you can’t convince me lar/n isn’t real

“It’s only ‘cuz you wrote that sick tune. I think with the amount of people loving this right now, there’s a good chance it’ll be on the next album,” Lara nodded towards the positive feedback flooding the comment section.

“Guys, when I’m telling you I’m actually the luckiest woman alive to be able to sit and hear that voice over and over again, I’m not exaggerating.” Y/N squeezed the younger’s shoulder.

No, it is 100% Lar/N. A studio match made in heaven.

Megan Skiendiel: Katseye was gathered around a PR package sent by Olivia Rodrigo to be opened, Megan and Y/N were sat at the back of the group as Sophia and Manon did most of the speeches to thank Olivia.

“Thank you, Olivia, so much for the gifts, we love you and we can’t wait to see you.” Sophia spoke to the camera, “So, onto the unboxing of the package.”

As the girls ripped apart the package and explored the snacks and trinkets in the box, Megan and Y/N were fond of the bag of popcorn that was left in the box. Y/N immediately popped open the bag, letting the younger grab a handful first before she dug into it herself. Megan hummed, feeling the popcorn melt on her tongue with a foreign taste.

When Y/N popped one into her mouth, she immediately scurried to check the bag, her frantic motion catching the girls’ attention.

“Babe, there’s cinnamon in this,” Y/N said, pouncing to her feet to go grab a tissue paper from a staff member. Megan froze, eyes darting between the stunned Katseye members and the cameras. When Y/N came back onscreen, she shielded Megan from the cameras, holding the tissue over the Chinese girl’s mouth so she would spit it out. She then wiped her lips clean, brushing hair away from her face as Megan fixed herself up.

“For reference, Megan’s allergic to cinnamon,” Lara chimed, glancing back at the latter in concern.

The girls turned their full attention back to Megan. “How are you feeling now?”

Megan nodded slowly, her breathing finally returning to normal. “Good. Y/N caught it before I swallowed, so hopefully I don’t die. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Of course,” Y/N insisted, crossing their arms and settling in beside her. “You rest. I’m keeping watch. You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay.”

Megan rolled her eyes but smiled. “Okay, Mom.”

Y/N just shrugged. “Yeah, I just saved your life, so... you better keep that attitude to a minimum, Skiendiel.”

Megan shook her head, but there was no denying the gratitude in her eyes. The bandmates were often playful with each other, but in moments like this, it was clear that they were more than just a group—they were family. And Y/N, in their usual overbearing way, wasn’t going to let anyone slip through the cracks.

Megan sighed theatrically. “Fine, I guess I’ll survive with you hovering over me.”

Sophia chuckled softly, turning back to the PR package they had abandoned earlier. “Well, I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N said, their grin widening. “I’ll make sure Megan doesn’t eat anymore popcorn this time. There’s an epipen right there just in case.”

And with that, they stayed together, a little closer than usual, but with a quiet understanding that, no matter what, they had each other’s backs.

Y/N really babied Megan… #Y/gan anybody?

Jeong Yoonchae: [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Behind the Scenes of Making “Touch” Music Video

The set was bustling with energy. Crew members scurried around, adjusting cameras and lights, while stylists and makeup artists made final touch-ups on each band member. It was the day of Katseye’s highly anticipated music video shoot, and the excitement was palpable. With every moment, the vibe on set grew more intense—until it became clear that two members of the band, in particular, were completely lost in their own little world.

Y/N and Yoonchae had their looks touched up first, leaving the two of them ready and alone next to the set while other members got their looks done.

“I’m so excited for this! It’s like a—like a…!” Yoonchae said, hopping from one foot to the other as she adjusted her outfit. She was trying to find the word for what she was feeling, but her accent made it all the more adorable.

Y/N watched her with an amused expression, smiling at the camera at her excitement. “Dream come true?”

Yoonchae nodded, grabbing Y/N’s arm. “Yes, dream come true! It’s so cool! Look at the lights, the cameras…” She waved her hands dramatically, gesturing toward the crew, and then flopped onto a nearby chair. “Y/N, I always thought music video shoots were more glamorous. But it’s kind of chaotic.”

Y/N chuckled, walking over and sitting down next to her. “Yeah, for all the eyekons watching at home, there’s so many things going on at once here right now. We’re working really hard to give you guys the best video ever.”

Yoonchae looked at them, eyes curved. “Yes!”

Y/N’s smile grew. “You’re right,” they said dramatically. “I have to be the mature one. The one who has everything under control. No falling or tripping allowed.”

“Well,” Yoonchae began with a mischievous grin, “that’s not what I heard last night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”

Yoonchae leaned in, lowering her voice as if telling a juicy secret. “I heard... from Manon...” She paused for dramatic effect. “That you, Y/N, have the worst luck when it comes to... stage outfits.” She grinned even wider.

Y/N groaned, sinking further into the chair, clearly mortified. “Oh, no. Don’t you dare. That was one time.”

But Yoonchae was enjoying this too much. “One time? Wasn’t it, like, three times? Or four?” She pulled out her phone and started to scroll through her pictures, clearly looking for the embarrassing photo evidence. “Wait, I have a picture...”

“Yoonchae,” Y/N whined, slapping a hand to her forehead, “I swear, if you show that picture—”

But it was too late. Yoonchae had found it. She turned the phone toward the camera with a wicked grin on her face. The photo was a candid shot of Y/N from one of their earlier shoots, where she’d tripped over a cable, lost her balance, and ended up on the ground in an ungraceful heap. To make matters worse, she were wearing a sparkling strapless top that seemed to be caught on the edge of the stage, adding to the chaos. Yoonchae was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, while Y/N simply buried her face in her hands.

“Yoonchae!” Y/N exclaimed, half-laughing, half-sighing in defeat. “Why would you do this to me?”

“You look so cute!” Yoonchae protested, still laughing uncontrollably. “It makes me really happy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks flushing. “I’ll admit, it was embarrassing, but—”

“You admit?” Yoonchae interrupted, cutting them off. “You looked like a baby deer.” Yoonchae collapsed into her chair, clutching her stomach as she continued to laugh.

Y/N shook her head, clearly trying to maintain their dignity. “You’re so cruel, you know that? You’re lucky you’re the youngest. If I were the youngest, I’d be way more merciless.”

Yoonchae stuck out her tongue, teasing. “That’s because you’re old, and you’ve got to be all serious and responsible.”

Y/N let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head into the camera, pretending to be resigned to her fate. “Alright, fine, I’ll give you that one. But I’m never telling you another embarrassing story again.”

Yoonchae’s eyes widened in mock horror. “You have to!”

Y/N shot her a look, pretending to be stern. “I’m serious, Yoonchae. I’ll tell everybody but you.”

But Yoonchae only pouted, clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please, please, tell me more! I’m begging you! I’ll be really sad if you don’t!”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back the smile tugging at their lips. “Fine. But only because you said ‘please’.” They paused, thinking for a moment. “Okay, how about the time I accidentally dyed my hair neon green before a concert?”

Yoonchae gasped. “No way! Tell me more!”

Y/N, now fully enjoying the teasing, leaned in closer. “Well, I thought it would be a fun, bold look, but the dye got all over my hands, my clothes, and the stage lights made it look like I had an actual glow-in-the-dark head. It was so embarrassing that I wore a hat for the entire set. Not one person told me I looked ridiculous. Not even you!”

Yoonchae gasped dramatically. “How could I not tell you? I think I need to have a word with our bandmates.”

Best sibling dynamic, hands down.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Christmas Bells

Pairing: Dark Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: It’s your first Christmas with Bakugo and he makes sure it’s memorable. 

WARNINGS: Kidnapped reader; Implied Noncon/Abuse; Minor violence. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊 Merry Christmas!

--

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, your name being called less than a moment later. 

“One minute!”

Suffocating back the sobs that insist on freeing themselves, your fingers desperately reach to wipe away the warm, sad tears that refuse to stop. You sniff, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the gross snot that clings to your nose. 

Looking in the mirror for a quick check turns out to be a mistake. Deep under eyes circles, runny nose, red puffy eyes - you look awful.

Even more when you compare your ugly crying face with the red and yellow soft cotton Christmas pajamas you’ve been coerced into wearing, the one Bakugo is matching.  

Couple pajamas, he had grumbled when giving you the box. Because it’s your first ever Christmas together and he wants it to be memorable. Special. 

Special for him yet a nightmare for you. 

The last couple days have been hell. Bakugo’s been unbearable to deal with, having taken a week off of the hero duty just so he can spend quality time with you. You fervently wish he hadn’t.

Every moment spent by his side makes you uneasy and anxious, constantly walking on egg-shells as you await for the bomb that Bakugo is to set off.

Truth be told, you don’t want to spend time with him. You simply want nothing to do with him. He has a special way to become abhorrently overwhelming. 

Forced to play house with a delusional Pro-Hero isn’t what you want. 

You don’t want to wake bunched up in the suffocating embrace of his arms as his thick cock forces itself inside you.

You don’t want to set up the Christmas tree with him, pretending to care every time he asks you where do you want each fucking shiny ornament to be.

You don’t want him to kiss you like you’re his everything - like you’re a happy loving couple that has just assembled their first Christmas tree together.

You don’t want to play the role of a diligent girlfriend that peels off vegetables, sets up the dining table and washes the dishes and yet you do all of these tasks, knowing otherwise you’ll receive nothing but a nasty backhand and a speech on being a ungrateful brat, something that will sour both of your moods for the rest of the day. 

You don’t want to-

There’s a harder knock on the door. 

“Hey, you died in there or what?” 

Tilting your face up, your eyes lock into the ceiling at the same time as you take in a deep breath that does little to calm your nerves. You’re so tired, so fucking exhausted. Can’t even spend five fucking minutes without the asshole hunting you down. 

Knowing you have less than 60 seconds till Bakugo gets angry or worried enough to break down the bathroom door, something you’d like to avoid given it’s the only door in the apartment that has a lock, you reluctantly drag your feet to the door. 

Bakugo pushes the door forward as soon as you turn the lock open, entering the bathroom as he takes a good look at you, fixing his glare at your red eyes, still moist from your latest crying session. 

“What took you so damn long?” his question resembles an accusation, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart around the bathroom, looking for whatever proof of an imaginary escape plan or so. 

“Nothing, was just washing my hands.” you lie, offering a placating smile. Bakugo nods, although distrust is still evident in his face but if there’s one thing you’ve learned is that suspicion is like a second nature to him.

Perhaps you deserve it but now, after almost 7 months after your last failed escape attempt, you’d think you’d been able to earn some trust. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” 

His hand reaches for yours, hot and firm as he always is, and you follow his lead as he takes you back to the living room. Confusion rattles your mind and you look up at Bakugo as he makes you settle on the couch by his side. 

“Hum…” you hesitate, lips parting as the blonde man lays his heavy arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, “...I thought-” 

“Huh?” he doesn’t bother looking at you, busy fumbling with the TV’s remote control. He skips movie after movie till he finally settles at one of the Home Alone movies. A Christmas classic, you think. 

“I mean, isn’t it past bedtime?” A glance towards the digital watch on the wall reveals it’s  five minutes till bedtime. Surprising and shocking at the same time, as never once did he let you - or him - to stay up till this late. “I thought the curfew was nine thirty?” 

“Will you shut up and just watch the damn movie?” he snaps. You seal your lips tight after that, face immediately whipped to the front to stare at the cinematic 34-foot TV although you pay little attention to it. 

Awkward silence reigns as you watch the movie.

Nostalgia hits you hard as the movie carries on, your mind wandering through old dusty memories. You as a child, watching this exact movie curled in between your parents, laughing your ass off at the on-screen shenanigans. Simpler and happier times.

A dull pain stabs your heart at the thought of your family. How are they coping with the fact that their daughter went missing so many months ago, not even a single clue to her case. 

A part of you wonders how Christmas is going to be celebrated back in your home country, if your mom is planning to leave a sock for you in the fireplace, as she always has or if your dad is finally gonna buy that gift you had not to subtly begged for Christmas all those months ago…

Your nails dig deep into the back of your hand, a microscopic attempt to keep the tears from spilling as your eyes begin to burn. You can’t fucking cry - you reprimand yourself - if you cry, Bakugo is gonna be upset. If Bakugo gets upset, then you’ll have to deal with the consequences. And you don’t want that. 

“It’s Christmas.” his deep voice breaks out the silence, so random and unexpected you’re not even sure he said anything. He keeps his face straight forward, locked into the screen, even as you’re under the impression that he’s paying as much attention to the movie as you are. 

Bakugo sighs, finally looking at you and you don’t like how his red eyes pierce right through you, leaving you helpless and naked under his gaze. Like he can read every single emotion that boils inside you.

“It’s Christmas.” he repeats, voice softening. “First Christmas together, I mean.” 

“Yeah.” you stiffly reply. 

“Besides, we gotta wait till midnight so you can open your gifts.” he adds, pointing a finger towards the lit up Christmas tree, where some packages wrapped in red paper lay by its base.

A side of you feels curious about them, but another part warns you that nothing good ever comes with Bakugo. When did he ever give you something that is free of restrictions? 

“I didn’t get you anything.” 

“Huh?” 

“I don’t have a gift for you.” you explain. 

It’s a silly statement, although evident. You spend all day caged in his heavily-secured apartment with no way of leaving, no matter how much you’ve asked for it, and the few online shopping you’re allowed to do is on Bakugo’s laptop with the blonde man hunched over your shoulder, eagle-eyes following every purchase of yours. 

Bakugo shrugs off his broad shoulders, seemingly unbothered. 

Lacking the strength to further keep up with the pointless conversation you leave it at that. After a few minutes, the film fails to maintain your interest and soon you start drifting into a calm slumber, eyes drowsily slipping closed and barely aware of when Bakugo re-positions you so that your head lays onto the comfortable muscle of his bicep. 

Just a small nap, you sleepily think… 

“Hey, wake the hell up.” 

There’s an annoying tug at your arm. 

“Wake up, it’s time.” 

“Hm?”

Opening your eyes proves to be a difficult task with your eyelids awfully heavy. You yawn, sleep coating your features. 

Bakugo is no longer sitting by your side, but is bent in front of you, occupying all of your vision field. 

“It’s Christmas, already.” 

That certainly catches your attention, hands pushing against the couch to leverage you into a standing position. 

“Oh.” 

The clock marks exactly midnight and you stare at it, empty-minded. For a moment, you believe none of this is real, that you’ve imagined everything.

Any moment now, your family is going to start cheering and hugging you, felicitations and merry christmas’s being thrown around while everyone exchanges their gifts. 

Instead, reality hits you like a brick thrown to your face in the form of Bakugo’s squeezing hug, your face being pressed against his toned chest. 

“C’mon, let’s open your gifts.” he drags you to the tree, sitting on the wooden floor with his legs crossed as he pulls you into his lap, heavy arms immediately caging you in. 

“Start with that one.” Bakugo nudges a box with a rectangular shape to your way. 

It’s a bit heavy but as soon as your fingers reach for it, you immediately figure out it’s a book. 

As you unwrap the paper from the book, Bakugo squirms and pushes you a bit backwards, so your back meets his brawny chest.  

The cover of the book shows him - well, Dynamight portrayed in a comic artstyle.

“Dynamight’s Explosive Adventures” 

“It’s a comic book. Part of the new merch.” he slowly says. "Hasn't been released yet, and I warned the jerk editor that it can’t be published until my girl gives it her approval.”

You are surprised to learn how much Bakugo cared about your approval and opinion. A pleasant surprise and warmth rises to your cheeks. 

“That’s… really sweet.” you comment as Bakugo gives your neck a small peck. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” he brushes it off, “Just make sure to read that quickly.”

“Okay.” you almost sing the word out. You hesitate for a moment. “Thanks.”

The atmosphere feels strangely lighter, happier. It’s silly to feel like this when it’s something so small, so insignificant.

Still, you can’t stop the little smile that tugs the corners of your lips as you open the remaining presents: a shiny golden hand bracelet that Katsuki immediately fastens it down your wrist, a lip oil collection that you vaguely remember being on your wishlist. 

All of them are just nice presents and you wonder if you were being a bit too dramatic about it earlier. 

Reaching for the last one, Bakugo practically throws the small box into your hands, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder, his breathing obnoxiously heavy in your ears but you don’t dare to complain.

His arms tighten around your waist for a moment and you wonder if he’s nervous about this one. 

You receive your answer soon enough, heart dropping to your stomach as soon as you open the velvet black box, revealing an elegant ring inside.

A diamond encrusted ring band, to be exact. A engagement ring. 

No. 

Oh God, please no.

All of your jovial carefree behavior vanishes into thin air as Bakugo takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto your annular finger and you wince when he pushes it down with a brutish strength until the overly small ring finally sits at the base of your finger. 

“Mrs. Bakugo Katsuki.” you can practically hear a satisfied grin behind those words.

That's all it takes for the dam that's inside your eyes to burst into miserable pitiful tears. From behind you, Bakugo growls - all traces of relaxation now gone - replaced by anger as he violently tugs your arm behind, forcing your body to face him.  

“No. No fucking tears.” his tone is harsh, and he takes it upon himself to swipe his big thumbs against your cheeks, cleaning up the endless fountain of water that your eyes have become.

Your hands weakly attempt to push him away, never meeting success in putting distance between your bodies as he immediately clutches your wrists. 

“I…Bakugo, I don’t want to-”

His lips capture your wobbling ones into a fervent, boiling kiss. His palm is large enough to cover the back of your head, stopping you from pulling away from the kiss. You’re trapped under his powerful strength, as you always have. You’re so stupid for fooling yourself into something that was never the reality. 

He kisses you with all of his ravenous, destructive passion until you’re nothing more than a limp body, until all signs of pathetic rebellion have left your body but not your mind. Your throat dries when his burning lips move to suck little spots on the sensitive skin of your neck, too many sharp teeth involved.

Your whole body itching to squirm away from him but somehow you manage to stay as immobile as a statue. You can only cry your eyes out. You’re weak, you’re pathetic, you’re-

“You asked ‘bout my gift, right?” his voice booms in your ear and you yelp as Bakugo pushes you down to the floor, crawling on top of you like the dangerous predator he is. His calloused hands already reaching for your pajama pants.

“You can fucking give it to me in nine months.” 

[24galaxies]

My Home

Story line:- Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You’ve been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You’re a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Azriel x Reader

The crackling of the fireplace was the only sound that filled the sitting room. It should’ve been comforting—warmth wrapping around me like a favorite blanket—but tonight, it felt oppressive. Maybe it was because of him.

Azriel sat across from me, his form sharp and precise in the soft firelight, every inch of him exuding the kind of quiet power that left me breathless. As usual, his focus wasn’t on me. He was next to her—Elain Archeron. The golden one. The one with a mate.

I closed my book for the third time in as many minutes, unable to focus with the two of them so close. It wasn’t that they were doing anything inappropriate—Azriel wouldn’t, and Elain…well, she didn’t seem to notice his lingering looks. But I noticed. I always noticed.

I hated how it made me feel. A bitterness that lodged itself in my chest, turning my heart into something small and sharp. I wanted to tell myself it didn’t matter, that Azriel could love Elain if he wanted. But it wasn’t just love. It was something deeper. Something quieter.

And that made it worse.

I stole another glance, careful to keep my movements subtle. Elain was speaking to him, her voice soft and melodic. Whatever she said made Azriel smile—not a big, broad grin like Cassian’s, but a small, fleeting thing. I hated that I wanted to be the one to pull that smile from him.

“Y/N.”

The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to find Azriel’s hazel eyes locked onto mine. My heart skipped, the intensity of his gaze startling me.

“You’re frowning,” he said, his voice low.

I blinked, scrambling to compose myself. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted, tilting his head slightly. “Something wrong?”

It wasn’t fair. That look, that tone—like he cared. Like I was more than just a mortal girl who happened to land in their world.

“No,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

His gaze lingered, like he didn’t quite believe me, but then Elain spoke again, drawing his attention back to her.

And just like that, I was invisible again.

I didn’t stay in the room much longer. The fire was too warm, the tension too thick, and I needed air. Slipping outside, I welcomed the crisp night breeze that kissed my skin. Velaris was beautiful at night, the stars scattered across the sky like shards of silver.

It had been two months since I arrived here, and I still wasn’t sure if I belonged. Rhysand had insisted I was special, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. Mortals didn’t winnow, didn’t teleport from one place to another in the blink of an eye, but somehow I could. And no one—not even the High Lord himself—could explain why.

I let out a sigh, rubbing my arms as I wandered the gardens. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should’ve stayed in my world, where things were simple and I wasn’t caught up in…this.

The sound of footsteps startled me, and I turned to see Azriel standing a few feet away.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

I shook my head, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at the sight of him. “Just needed some air.”

He didn’t move closer, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space between us. “You left in a hurry earlier.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Interrupt what?”

I glanced at him, biting my lip. “You and Elain.”

Something shifted in his expression—subtle but there. His shadows swirled around him, their movements restless.

“Elain and I…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” I challenged, folding my arms. “Because it looks pretty clear to me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I cared for her. That she could be—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. “It doesn’t matter.”

I stepped closer, my chest tightening. “It does matter. You can’t just…pretend it doesn’t.”

Azriel’s gaze snapped to mine, sharp and intense. “Why do you care?”

The question caught me off guard, and I opened my mouth to respond, only to realize I didn’t have an answer I was ready to give.

“Forget it,” I muttered, turning away. “Goodnight, Azriel.”

I didn’t look back as I walked away, but I could feel his gaze burning into my back.

The tension between us only grew after that night. Azriel kept his distance, but there were moments—fleeting glances, accidental touches—that left my heart racing. It was maddening, this dance we were trapped in.

It wasn’t until Cassian suggested sparring that I found an outlet for my frustration. The training yard became my escape, a place where I could channel all the emotions swirling inside me.

“You’re getting better,” Cassian said, blocking my latest strike with a grin. “But you still telegraph your moves.”

I rolled my eyes, adjusting my stance. “Maybe you’re just predictable.”

Cassian laughed, lunging at me with renewed vigor. I barely managed to dodge his attack, stumbling as I tried to regain my footing.

“Careful,” he teased, winking. “Wouldn’t want Azriel to think I broke you.”

My cheeks flushed, and I glared at him. “Shut up, Cassian.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his grin widening.

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Enough.”

Cassian and I both turned to see Azriel standing at the edge of the yard, his expression unreadable but his tone leaving no room for argument.

Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you two alone.” He shot me a knowing look before sauntering off, and I resisted the urge to throw my sword at him.

Azriel approached slowly, his wings tucked tightly against his back. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing the dirt off my clothes.

He didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, more sharply than I intended.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he took a step closer, his voice softening. “I know you can. But you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

My breath caught, his words hitting me harder than they should’ve.

“Why do you care?” I asked, echoing his question from that night in the garden.

Azriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.

“Because I see you,” he said quietly. “Even when you think no one else does.”

My chest tightened, and I opened my mouth to respond, but he closed the distance between us before I could say anything. His hand cupped my cheek, his touch warm and grounding, and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and restraint breaking like a dam. His shadows swirled around us, cocooning us in a world that was just ours.

When we finally pulled apart, Azriel rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered. “I was afraid.”

I smiled, my hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

For the first time since arriving in Velaris, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Over the next few weeks, everything shifted. Azriel and I found a rhythm, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. He still had his shadows, his secrets, but he let me in, piece by piece.

Elain…she seemed to understand, too. There was no bitterness, no resentment—only a quiet acceptance that made me respect her even more.

As for me, I finally started to feel like I belonged. Rhysand’s court wasn’t just a place; it was a family, one I was proud to be part of.

And Azriel?

He was My Home.

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine with a reader who prefers to spend more time indoors during winter. (oh to be born in winter and despise the winter weather itself)

-Smooch Anon 💋

Where the Cold Can’t Touch Us

Summary: You prefer to stay indoors, safe from the winter chill. Aventurine understands your distaste for the cold yet finds a playful way to coax you out of your comfort zone. Suggesting a wager, he challenges you to a game of cards: if you lose, you must brave a winter stroll with him.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Cozy moments, Winter Special, Playful banter, Gentle teasing, Warmth in the cold, Indoor dates, Sweet gestures, Companionship.

As winter's chill wraps itself around the city, you find yourself once again nestled indoors, wrapped in the warm, soft embrace of blankets and layers. The frosty air outside and the biting winds are not your friends—winter may have birthed you, but it certainly hasn’t won your favor. Fortunately, a certain blond gambler with vibrant eyes understands this about you perfectly. And, as always, Aventurine finds a way to make even your self-imposed winter sanctuary a place of light and laughter.

You’re sitting by the window, a cup of tea warming your hands, when you feel the sofa dip beside you. Aventurine slides in, his arms draped casually over the back, wearing that playful smirk that always gives him away.

“I see my favorite winter hibernator is hard at work,” he teases, eyes glinting with mischief as he wraps his arm around you, gently pulling you closer. “Tell me, love—if you despise the cold so much, why insist on being born in winter?”

“It wasn’t exactly my choice,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Believe me, if I had a say, I would’ve picked a sunnier season.”

He chuckles, his voice rich with amusement. “Consider it fate, then. The chill just had to bring something warm to this world.”

You blush slightly at the compliment, nestling further into his side, the warmth of his presence seeping through the layers of blankets. Aventurine tilts his head back thoughtfully, as if considering some new scheme. With him, everything is a game, even these cozy moments, where he skillfully makes you forget the dreariness of the season.

“Since you refuse to step out,” he continues with a dramatic sigh, “it looks like I’ll have to bring the entertainment to you. How does a little winter wager sound?”

“A wager?” You raise an eyebrow. “What are we betting on this time?”

He pulls a deck of cards from his pocket, shuffling it with practiced grace. “A simple game of chance. If you win, I’ll stay in and play the dutiful winter companion. If I win, you’ll have to endure a brief winter stroll with me—nothing too far, just enough to get a bit of rosy color in those cheeks.”

You laugh, knowing full well he’ll somehow manage to twist the game in his favor. Still, you agree, because with Aventurine, even a losing hand feels like a victory.

In the end, after a series of close calls and playful accusations of cheating, you “lose,” as expected. But as you bundle up reluctantly, Aventurine takes your hand and leads you to the balcony instead of out into the cold streets. You pause, looking up at him, confusion etched on your face.

“I thought you’d try to drag me outside.” you say, shivering slightly as a gust of cold air swirls around you.

“True,” he replies, slipping an arm around you to pull you closer. “But I couldn’t make you too uncomfortable, could I? Besides, this way, you get your fresh air, and I get to keep you right where I like you—next to me, warm and cozy.”

Aventurine’s warmth, combined with the gentle embrace, makes the winter seem almost bearable. His presence is all you need, a reminder that even the coldest days can be filled with warmth as long as he’s by your side.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

To Walk the Old Path

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Lia Costayne (OFC) Warnings: Slightly smutty. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Otto is displeased with Lia's choice of attire for Helaena and Aegon's wedding, but she always gets her own way. Part of the Fire on the Mountain universe, but could be read as a standalone (this is a significant jump into the future from chapter one and likely won't feature in the series itself)

Author's note: Day ten of Smuffmas - dressing up and dry humping. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Lia sat at her vanity table, the rings on her fingers catching the light as she moved them across the soft fabric of the bell sleeve of her gown. She had had it specially made in the colours of House Costayne; the golden satin had been meticulously embroidered with black roses, and its neckline plunged just enough to emphasise the subtle curve of her breast without the risk of being considered unseemly. It made her feel beautiful, the way it clung tight to her waist and then widened again at her hips, giving volume to her skirts. It was an unashamed display of her femininity, an affirmation that she was now a woman – a powerful woman.

“The First to Rise,” she uttered her house words quietly to herself, as she adjusted the silver chalice brooch that fastened her bodice at the front.

“Are you certain you wish to wear it down, my lady?” Marybel asked. The handmaiden fussed behind Lia, teasing her long, raven curls with a boar bristle brush. “It is not customary for ladies to wear their hair loose on such occasions.”

“Fuck what is customary,” Lia replied with a playful smirk, lightly swatting Marybel’s hands away as she turned to look at her over shoulder. “It is bad enough I should have to attend something so farcical, I will not have one of your awful braids tugging mercilessly at my scalp the entire day too.”

Lia’s sharp words were often enough to send most servants scurrying from her chambers, red faced with humiliation. Marybel was not most servants though, and that was precisely why Lia chose to keep her so close.

The handmaiden huffed through her nose in quiet amusement. She leaned over Lia’s shoulder as she turned around again, and placed the brush back on top of the vanity table. “As you wish, my lady.”

Lia’s eyes watched in the looking glass as the door to her chambers swung open behind them both, and she felt Marybel stiffen in silent discomfort as the tall, imposing figure of Otto Hightower stepped through.

“Leave us,” Lia uttered quietly, giving Marybel’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The handmaiden nodded, turning and leaving the room with hurried steps that took her in a wide semi circle in order to avoid the Hand of the King. Otto did not say a word, even as the door thudded closed.

She did not move, did not acknowledge his presence, simply observed as he slowly stalked about the room in his forest green, crushed velvet finery with his freshly polished hand pin gleaming brightly upon his chest. She knew precisely why he was here – he had come to hurry her along, though he would never dare say the words aloud, knowing they would have the opposite effect of what he desired.

She could see it in the way his fingers brushed against the backs of the chairs beside the fireplace. Hurry up.

His brow was slightly furrowed, and his shoulders tense, a sign that he was annoyed. You are making us late.

Finally, once he had walked a full circuit of the room, he settled into a high backed chair by the hearth, leaning forward to grasp the pewter wine jug and pour himself a goblet of Arbor gold. Still, she ignored him, making a show of pretending she was readying herself, as she toyed with her hair, stealing a glance at her husband every so often in the reflective surface.

“Is that what you intend to wear?” Otto eventually asked, to Lia’s delight – he had given in first. He always did.

“Of course it is,” she insisted, rising from the vanity and stepping slowly towards the seating area around the fireplace, where Otto reclined. Despite his attempt to appear relaxed, she could see how tense he was in how tightly he gripped his wine cup. “Do you not think I look nice?”

She made a show of spreading out the skirts, swaying slightly to allow the drape of the fabric to move with her, all the while looking at him with a pleased grin, as she saw him shift in his seat, his gaze raking over her appreciatively.

“You look beautiful,” Otto admitted grudgingly, taking a sip of his wine and swallowing thickly, “you know you do. But that is not the gown that we agreed you would wear today.”

“I agreed nothing,” she corrected him with a roll of her eyes, “I do not like what you picked out for me. It is unflattering.”

“Then choose something else,” he said matter of factly, setting his wine down upon the table in front of him and fixing her with a piercing stare.

“Something green you mean?” Her flesh prickled with irritation as she narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms defensively across her middle.

“Hightower house colours,” Otto said darkly. His fingers grasped the wooden arms of the chair tightly, a subtle indication that he was losing his patience. Lia did not care.

“I am not a Hightower,” she answered with a soft shake of her head and a shrug.

“Today is about unity,” Otto rose from his chair suddenly, his nostrils flared in annoyance as he pointed an accusatory finger at her, “not about you clinging to your principles like a stubborn child!”

“Unity?!” Lia spat back, her own voice rising as her anger flared. She uncrossed her arms, her hands balling into fists as she strode towards him defiantly. “If today were about unity then you would have allowed Rhaenyra to wed Jacaerys to Helaena. Instead, you are making this disgusting display of marrying brother to sister, and there has never been more divide between us all.”

A flash of anger appeared in Otto’s hazel eyes as quickly as it disappeared again. He drew in a steadying breath, schooling his features before replying, his voice calmer than it had been previously. “It is at the request of the King that his children shall be married, to strengthen the bloodline of House Targaryen.”

“House Targaryen?” Lia scoffed, tilting her head as her blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Did Viserys tell you that between doses of milk of the poppy? Spare me, Otto, for if that were the case, surely you would insist I dress in red and black?”

“You test my patience, Lia,” Otto glowered, inhaling deeply.

“And you test mine,” Lia stepped forward, placing the flat of her hand against his velvet covered chest and pushed him – not hard enough to unsteady him, but enough for him to know she wanted him to sit.

Otto did just that, resuming his sitting position in the high backed chair beside the hearth. Swiftly, Lia climbed into his lap, positioning herself to straddle his lap, lifting her skirts just enough so that the bare flesh of her womanhood pressed flush against his thigh. A sense of satisfaction settled over Lia as she felt his breath hitch, his large hands coming to rest upon the swell of her hips.

She leaned in close, the scent of pine oil and leather filling her nostrils as the tip of her nose brushed against the coarse hair of his beard, making her throb with desire. Reaching up, she stroked her fingers through it, caressing his jaw as she spoke softly to him.

“Now listen to me, I am your wife, not a pawn to be used for your political gain. Is that understood?”

She punctuated her point with a subtle roll of her hips, exhaling a shaky breath at the friction against her sensitive pearl. She laid her free hand upon his shoulder, keeping the other cupped within his beard, tilting his face to look at her.

Otto’s expression had softened considerably, his eyes hooded and filled with affection as he looked upon her. His hands aided her movements against him, gently squeezing the plushness of her flesh through her gown. “You are incorrigible.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed in agreement, her breaths growing heavy as she continued her lazy rocking against him, “and I shall wear what I please.”

Her hand dropped from his shoulder to snake between them, her fingers immediately seeking out and finding the hardness that strained against the laces of his breeches. She palmed the rigid length gently, continuing to fuck herself against his thigh as she watched with delight as his lips parted, a soft groan escaping them.

“I do not answer to you,” she whispered breathlessly, her movements becoming more erratic as she felt the coil of tension in her belly grow taut. The insistent rubbing of his trousers upon her delicate bundle of nerves built a steadily growing ache within her, that she was eager to chase to its end. “I do not answer to anyone.”

“As you wish,” Otto breathed, his head falling back against the chair with a soft thud as his eyes fluttered closed.

Lia grinned, squeezing his hardness more firmly, eliciting a hiss from him. He moved her more roughly against him, and the ache became more prevalent until the coil within her snapped. She stilled her movements, her body shuddering against Otto’s. White hot waves of ecstasy rippled through her, making her heat convulse uncontrollably as she cried out in pleasure.

She rested her forehead against Otto’s, panting softly, moving her hand away from his erection and placing it back upon his shoulder to steady herself. Despite her boneless state, she felt triumphant. Marriage was all too often a battlefield, but Lia prided herself upon being an excellent strategist. She had won this, and not for the first time.

Otto’s eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he regarded her with fondness. “You shall be the death of me.”

“But not today,” Lia quipped, shifting off of his lap and adjusting her skirts as she stood. It was then that she spotted the damp patch of arousal that she had left upon his trouser leg. “And it appears to be you who needs to get changed.”

[randomcreator-09]

Small Heath's Songbird: Christmas Eve Special (Thomas ShelbyxOCY/N)

(GIF ain't mine > I forgor ack pls dm me if it's yours)

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS SCENE MADE ME WANNA EXPLODE XD

Part One - Part Two

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨Pure fluff, Lil Angst, No Grace, Smut >:D [pnv (wrap it before you tap it), slight choking, bottom!dom Tommy, switch!dom reader, overstimulation(m&f)] Happy Ending ^^ (cuz I've had enough bad endings irl TvT)✨

🐧Hoe Hoe Hoe all of us HAHAHAHAHAHHA XD. I hope ya'll getting laid this Christmas Eve cuz, I aint X"D. Anyways you do not need to read part one... this can be just a one-shot itself, but fair warning you might not understand who our OCY/N is so... yeah... go read part one XD Tried to make it as short as possible since it's just a special but seemingly failed :"D but ey... Merry Christmas ^^!!!🐧

Own character description but it's Y/N POV

3.2k words

REBLOG TO SPREAD ADDICTION and kudos are appreciated too thank you ^^

Enjoy reading ^^

Part One - Part Two

-----

It has been more than a week since your last encounter with the owner of Arrow House, Thomas. Your first kiss with him last December 15th was something that kept you giddy to work as soon as the morning sun rose and before Miss Florence could knock at your door to wake you up, your room was already empty.

You went with your usual routine of sweeping off dust on paintings and sculptures, careful not to break or tear anything. This wasn't the first house you became a personal maid for someone, you've basically worked as a royal made once before getting kicked out by the head maid for "Eloping" with her man (which you didn't. The man was just accusing you because you said no to all his advances, which ended up with you on the whore house with 'Missus'). Humming as you cleaned and twirled, Miss Florence saw you and turned away with a smile.

-----

However, as fast as you were giddy that day, it was also punched right out you when you were called to attend to one of Thomas's whores.

"Ah! Y/N?" She slutterly (is that even a word??? XD) mentioned your name as she walked around you with the same dark coat Thomas had placed upon your shoulders to keep you warm yesterday.

"Yes." you muttered between gritted teeth, trying not to yank the coat away from her filthy body.

"Mmm... Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name in our session." She said with great despise. That information had your body in tingles. 'My name? in sex? in a normal convo? with another woman?' this came up to mind as the whore walked away after wafting her hair and up the stairs to Thomas's room, possibly to regain his favours to her.

Questions bursts out your mind to the thought that was left behind. "...Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name..." but why?

-----

After that day, you have never seen Thomas again in Arrow House. Miss Florence said he was on a business trip somewhere and would not be back till Christmas. That gave you time to think and to reflect on the kiss. AND to that whores last comment on their 'sessions'. Weird enough you thought that maybe she just heard it wrong, if not wrong then... why?

That had your mind busy for the rest of the week. Although with all the chores in hand, it made you forget Thomas easily. Suddenly remembering that the audition to the Garrison bar was going to be held on Christmas Eve. You had asked Miss Florence to be excused for that day, which she allowed.

-----

"Y/N!" a familiar voice called out to you through the swirling snow. You turned and saw ‘Missus,’ bundled in her thick, patched-up coat, her breath visible in the cold air as she waved enthusiastically.

“Missus,” you greeted her with a smile, tugging your own coat tighter around you as the wind picked up. Despite the chill in the air, her warmth was contagious.

“Still don’t know why you’re wastin’ that voice of yours on dusty houses. Tonight’s your chance, love. Show ‘em what you’re made of!” she declared, stepping closer. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or the drink she’d likely had before venturing out, you couldn’t tell.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you teased lightly, though you were secretly glad to have her there.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, let’s get inside before we freeze to death.”

The two of you entered the Garrison, the warmth and chaos of the pub hitting you like a wave. The air was thick with smoke and laughter, and the smell of ale lingered heavily. At the center of it all was a rather tone-deaf singer, standing on the makeshift stage, belting out a rowdy tune. Her pitch was so off that even the drunkest men in the room winced occasionally.

The pub owner, Harry, stood near the bar, shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough! Off you go!” he barked, waving her down.

The woman staggered off, her cheeks burning as the crowd erupted in laughter and went back to their conversations. Harry rubbed his temple, muttering to himself as he reached for another pint.

Missus nudged you forward with her elbow. “Go on, love.”

You hesitated, your nerves getting the better of you, but Missus had no patience for second-guessing. She marched you straight to Harry. “Oy, Harry!”

The man turned, clearly unimpressed. “What now?”

“She’s here for the audition,” Missus announced proudly, gesturing to you like you were already a star.

Harry raised a skeptical brow, his eyes raking over you lazily. “You sing, do ya?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firmer than you felt inside.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a shrug. “You lot are all bloody awful anyway. The men are drunk enough, so go ahead—ruin my ears like the rest of ‘em.” He waved a dismissive hand toward the stage.

Before you could argue or even steady your nerves, Missus grabbed your arm and practically dragged you toward the stage. “That’s my girl!” she shouted, her voice echoing over the clamor of the pub. She plopped herself down at a table near the front, pint in hand, cheering you on with the enthusiasm of ten people.

You stood on the small stage, feeling the weight of every eye in the room—except for the ones you wanted most. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Thomas and his brothers seated in the far-right corner, engrossed in their own conversation. Thomas was leaning back in his chair, cigarette in hand, his expression unreadable. His brothers were equally disinterested, laughing at some joke you couldn’t hear over the din.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to the piano and sat, your hands trembling slightly as you placed it on the notes. The room began to quiet down, curious about the new face on stage.

>>>>MOOSIC<<<<

As the first notes of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” left the piano chords, the pub seemed to hold its breath. As you started to sing though that's when everyone was in awe. The soft, ethereal melody floated through the room, starkly different from the raucous atmosphere moments ago.

"It came upon the midnight clear,

that glorious song of old,

from angels bending near the earth

to touch their harps of gold:

"Peace on the earth, good will to men,

from heaven's all-gracious King."

The world in solemn stillness lay,

to hear the angels sing."

You glanced around as you sang. Some of the patrons were swaying gently, their mugs forgotten for a moment. Harry stood behind the bar, his usual gruffness replaced with a look of mild surprise. Missus was, of course, beaming at you, her pint raised high in salute.

And then your gaze landed on Thomas. He was no longer leaning back in his chair, his cigarette halfway to his lips, forgotten. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on you, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the pub had melted away.

His brothers seemed to notice his sudden silence, exchanging glances before following his gaze to the stage. But Thomas didn’t move. He simply watched, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something that sent a thrill through you as you hit the chorus:

"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,

from Heaven’s all-gracious King..."

Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as the room continued to listen in hushed awe.

"Still through the cloven skies they come

with peaceful wings unfurled,

and still their heavenly music floats

o'er all the weary world;"

Your voice rang clear and steady now, weaving through the smoky air like a hymn in a sacred hall. The clamor of the pub had ceased entirely, save for the occasional clink of a glass or the creak of a chair as someone shifted to get a better view.

"Above its sad and lowly plains,

they bend on hovering wing,

and ever o'er its Babel sounds

the blessed angels sing."

Your eyes swept across the room as the words spilled effortlessly from your lips, each note carrying a haunting beauty. The drunkards, their mugs poised mid-air, watched you with wide eyes. Missus raised her pint higher, tears glinting in her eyes as she mouthed along with the words, clearly as proud as any mother watching her child’s first recital.

But it was Thomas’s gaze that kept pulling you back. He was leaning forward now, his elbows on the table, his piercing blue eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your heart falter mid-note. His brothers were as amused as Thomas was, their quiet singing along going unnoticed by him as he remained transfixed.

The pub faded into a blur around you, and for a moment, it was just you and him. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, not quite a smile, but something softer, something rare. It made you feel both seen and exposed, like he was peeling back every layer of your soul with just a look.

You closed your eyes, letting the final verses of the carol guide you.

"For lo! the days are hastening on,

by prophet bards foretold,

when with the ever-circling years

comes round the age of gold;

when peace shall over all the earth

its ancient splendors fling,

and the whole world give back the song

which now the angels sing."

The last note hung in the air, delicate and trembling, before dissolving into the stillness.

The room erupted in applause, shattering the quiet spell you’d cast. Missus was on her feet, cheering loud enough to make up for anyone who wasn’t clapping. Harry nodded approvingly from the bar, a rare grin on his face.

And then there was Thomas. He didn’t clap, didn’t cheer, but his eyes said enough. There was something unspoken there, something electric that left you breathless as you stepped off the stage.

Missus grabbed you the moment your feet touched the floor, pulling you into a bear hug. “That’s my girl!” she hollered, spinning you around.

-----

As the noise swelled back into the room and the drunken revelry resumed, you glanced toward the far-right corner one last time. Thomas was no longer were he was, you looked around to see his brothers were eyeing you. John was grinning from ear to ear as he tipped his hat to you, you gestured with a soft smile. Arthur, visibly high from whatever he took, winked at you, making your soft smile widen a bit at the gesture as you shook your head continuing your drink with missus.

"Got a voice young lady, you ain't no whore like missus here ain't you?" Harry asked as he passed you your glass of water (you don't drink, taking care of your voice).

"No sir," you said in a hushed tone as missus and Harry glared knives at each other, clearly having a mental fight.

"Alright! you got the gig, every Saturday at noon. Don't be late." he huffed as he tended to other customers on the pub.

You beamed as you silently squealed with Missus. You now had enough jobs to be able to earn and go for an adventure; now it's just time to earn until-

Your reverie was cut short when a sudden familiar voice lingered behind you.

“Looking for me, darling?” His voice carried that familiar gruffness, the edges softened by something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned, startled but delighted. “Thomas,” you breathed, standing instinctively. His sharp blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, the entire pub seemed to dissolve around you.

“You’ve got a voice, Y/N,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. “Had the whole pub hanging on your every note. Even Arthur stopped his nonsense to listen.”

A faint blush crept up your neck at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze falling briefly to the floor.

“I mean it,” he pressed. “Didn’t know you had that in you. If I’d known, I’d have dragged you to sing long ago.”

You smiled shyly but then felt the weight of a lingering question pull you back. Gathering your courage, you glanced up at him. “Thomas... about something the other day…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhaled deeply, your words tumbling out before your nerves could catch you. “That woman. Back at the Arrow House. She said you... mentioned my name. During her... visit.”

For the first time, you saw Thomas falter. His jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat, glancing away. “Ah, bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well?” you prompted, your heart pounding.

He sighed, cursing himself softly before meeting your gaze again. “I did,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “She said somethin’ about loyalty or... some nonsense, and your name just... slipped out.”

“Slipped out?” you repeated, your brows arching.

“Can’t help what’s on my mind, love,” he said with a sheepish grin. “After our kiss in the kitchen that night I couldn't stop thinking about you, I couldn't possibly have you on your knees all of a sudden," he paused as he huffed another batch of his cigar. "You-your were a lady when I first saw you. Not a personal maid, so I fell for your soul and well voice now too and it’s going to be bloody distracting now that I have these in mind.”

He paused yet again, seemingly trying to recall all his thoughts, which were now visibly in jumbles. "I like to get to know you," he said as he stubbed his cigar dead on the ashtray. "It seemed like I've known you for years when we had just met that very day, and I won't be able to stop thinking about you now."

Your cheeks burned at his confession, and you averted your eyes, a small, flustered laugh escaping your lips. “Well, I... I suppose I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” you confessed, your voice barely audible over the noise of the pub.

His grin widened, the rare softness in his expression making your heart stutter. “Then we’ve both been fools, haven’t we?” he murmured, stepping closer. “Let me make it right. Take you out. Like a real lady.”

Before you could answer, Missus yanked you back by the arm, her eyes narrowed. “Not so fast, lover boy,” she said, pointing a finger at Thomas. “I’m takin’ her home, since you two might start shagging when she goes back to Arrow House today.”

“Missus!" shocked by her boldness but not surprised as she was already dragging you toward the door.

“Tomorrow, then!” Thomas called after you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

-----(Present Day, December 25th)

The warmth of the fireplace cast a golden glow over the living room as your daughter sat cross-legged on the floor by the Christmas tree, her curious eyes fixed on you. “But Mommy! Missus says she did no such thing!” she exclaimed, giggling.

You shot a playful glare at Missus, who was sitting comfortably in the armchair by the fire, sipping her tea. “Oh, did she now?” you teased, shaking your head.

Missus laughed, her graying hair framing her face. “Don’t listen to her, love. I was just keeping your mother out of trouble.”

The room filled with laughter until a familiar voice interrupted. “Baby, Daddy needs Mommy for a while, yeah? Why don't you go and play with Missus for a while.” Thomas said, stepping into the room.

Your daughter lit up and nodded. “Okay, Daddy!” she chirped, running over to Missus with her toys in hand.

Thomas extended a hand to you, his expression as unreadable as ever but his eyes warm. As soon as you were in the hallway, he leaned closer. “What were you tellin’ her?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Just the story of how we met. You know, the softer version.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Softer version, eh? Did you leave out the bit where I killed Luca Changretta for your hand?”

A laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. “No, it’s a bit too brutal for a five-year-old, my dear Tommy.”

He smirked, his hands sliding over yours. “In time, then,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “But for now…”

Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly toward the stairs.

“Thomas!” you squealed, laughing loudly as you clung to him.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered, his grin widening as he carried you up, your laughter echoing through the house.

-----(Thomas's POV)

Thomas scooped you into his arms, holding you close as though you were the most precious thing in his world. He started up the stairs, his steps steady yet unhurried.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Oh, I do. You’re my princess tonight—and every night.”

Your cheeks flushed as you playfully swatted his shoulder. “You’re so cheesy, Thomas.”

“Only for you,” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your forehead.

As he entered the room, he nudged the door shut with his foot and gently placed you on the bed. The golden glow of the fairy lights illuminated your face, making you look ethereal. He slowly placed you down onto your shared bed and paused, taking you in as if committing the moment to memory.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your lips curling into a soft smile.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your smile faltered, replaced by a look of vulnerability. “You make me feel that way,” you murmured.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “That’s because it’s true,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

He began to trail kisses along your cheeks and down your neck, his movements slow and deliberate. “Tell me if I ever do too much,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and comforting.

“You could never do too much,” you replied, your voice steady but filled with emotion. “I trust you.”

His lips curved into a smile against your neck. “I’ll make sure you never regret that,” he said, his tone serious yet filled with love.

As your connection deepened, you let out a soft laugh. “You’re so gentle, Thomas. It’s like you’re afraid I’ll break.”

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, his voice a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “I just want you to know how much I adore you—every part of you.”

As he said those words, his lips were now down to yours. Tickling your lower abdomen with soft kisses and slowly licking your clit from top to the bottom, making you hiss in pleasure.

He couldn't get over the taste of you, finer than the whisky he drinks and the cigar he smokes. He can forget Ophium, when you are one addicting woman.

"Fuck... I love you Y/N" He mutters as he laps his wet tongue through your slit and holds your hips as you were twitching heavy. His thumb on your clit drawing circles slowly and at rhythm to his tongue.

When he hears you scream his name like a prayer his pants suddenly felt tight and he couldn't let it wait any longer, he had to make you cum on his mouth now or never.

"Cum for me baby. Please... Oh God Please let me taste you" as he enters his tongue in you and his nose nuzzled on your clit and fingers twisting your nipples, fast.

"Th-Thomas! I-I'm Ah!" and release you did. However that didn't stop him and he kept his ministering to you until you could feel that satisfying release on the depths of your stomach.

"Thomas! I... I might make a mess..." You plead him as you trashed on his grasp without avail for his biceps were locked on your hips and legs. "Then make a mess. I'd love to see you make a mess for me, love"

And you squirted on his mouth. As he slowly pulls himself away and smirks looking at your majestic image, "Fuck, love you look gorgeous".

He was about to come back down and devour you once more but you won't let that happen this Christmas day. So, when you took control, he couldn’t help but smile up at you as your fingers traced the sharp angles of his face. “You know, I don’t think I say this enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips as he gazed up at you, completely captivated.

“I love you,” you said simply, your words carrying the weight of your feelings.

His eyes softened, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “You don’t have to say it all the time. I feel it every moment I’m with you.”

When you finally lay side by side, your breaths still mingling, Thomas turned to you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re my everything, you know that?” he said softly.

You smiled, your eyes glistening. “You’re mine, too,” you replied.

He chuckled, his voice warm and low. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas, Thomas,” you whispered back, as you kissed him softly on his lips.

Thomas groaned, a low sound of pleasure, as you shifted your position, straddling him. Inserting his cock to yours, His hands instinctively found your waist, holding you steady as you began to move. His breath hitched, and he looked up at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and adoration.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” he murmured, his voice strained yet teasing, as his hands tightened slightly on your hips, guiding your rhythm.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I think you like it this way.”

A chuckle escaped him, though it quickly dissolved into another groan as you continued. His head fell back against the pillow, exposing his neck as he surrendered entirely to you. Your fingers slid to his jaw, tilting his face back toward you.

“Look at me,” you said softly, your voice firm but full of affection.

His eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours as your hand moved to his throat. You applied the slightest pressure, watching as his breath hitched and his gaze darkened.

“Is this okay?” you asked, pausing briefly to ensure he was comfortable.

Thomas’s hands slid up your sides, his grip reassuring. “Perfect,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

You continued, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment as much as he was. His hands roamed your body, occasionally tightening as he got closer to the edge.

“I’m not going to last,” he murmured, his voice strained.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips as you whispered, “Then don’t hold back, baby.”

Moments later, the tension in his body gave way, and he groaned your name, his voice heavy with release. You followed shortly after, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

Breathless, you collapsed onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. Neither of you spoke for a while, the only sound in the room being your steady breaths mingling together.

Thomas finally broke the silence, his voice soft and full of contentment. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You smiled against his chest, your fingers drawing lazy patterns on his skin. “Merry Christmas, Thomas.”

----

🐧Hopefully I ended that well :"D aha... mhen :"D I just wanted it to be cute and all since its christmas aha~ so merry christmas everyone ^^ have a happy holiday ^^🐧

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Part One - Part Two

[misspelledwordswizard]

ok, we see waterbending and bloodbending but what about firebending and lightningbending?

I think the Chain going to be crazy see reader redirects a lightning un middle of the battle.

Thank you so much for the request, I really love writing about this! Mixing fandons might be my weakness… hope you like it <3

The dark sky was barely lit by the moon, which was hidden by the dark, heavy clouds, dumping heavy gusts of rain on the world below. The wind howled loudly, carrying the rain with it and making the experience all the more extreme in itself, it was as if the forces of nature were determined to prevent us from advancing. 

All this chaos was experienced by our group of ten, somewhat distant at the moment, while we still had to deal with the horde of monsters that followed right behind us. Due to the darkness and the heavy rain, we had made a mistake, without seeing the monster camp a little further ahead of us, all we could do was try to create distance to gain some time and think of a decent strategy to deal with them. 

The group of lizalfos seemed more than determined to pursue us, without giving us any room to counterattack. Shit, if only I could firebend now. It was no surprise to the heroes that I had a “special” ability to control and produce fire, the firebending that I was so proud of, and my main form of defense, but it wouldn’t be very effective in heavy rain like now. 

The rain seemed to intensify as we advanced, out of the corner of my eye I could see the team aiming arrows at the monsters, I preferred to stay focused on the path in front of me, but from the sound that echoed I could assume that he had hit at least one. Good. The others were trying their best in this situation, looking for various creative ways to achieve some kind of success. 

I felt useless, incapable, too dependent on firebending. Of course I have some experience in hand-to-hand combat, with arrows or bladed weapons, but I almost never use them, after all, why would I do that when a few body movements were enough for me to fight my enemies? Well, now I understand. In the distance I could hear the sound of thunder echoing in the sky, making me shiver. 

The cold of the rain was starting to affect me, I felt my frozen body tremble and my teeth chatter as I continued to advance. A real nuisance. It was when I turned to see how far we had gotten from the group of monsters that I became careless, tripping over a tree root and hitting the ground without further ado. I acted on instinct, trying to get up as quickly as possible when I saw a particular lizalfo coming towards me, approaching at speed, I felt unbalanced, trying to defend myself without even thinking, as I would do with firebending, I closed my eyes in fear as I did, realizing that it would have no effect, but now it was too late to stop.  

The loud sound of thunder echoed in the sky and at the same moment I felt a tingling electricity pass through my entire body, I felt alive, as if my brain sent a high dose of adrenaline to my body. The sensation was different from anything I had ever experienced, it seemed crazy.  I opened my eyes just in time to see the effects of the movements, seeing the lightning strike the monster that was just a few meters away from me, leaving it stunned. 

Did I do that? 

It wasn’t too hard to associate the action with the lightningbending that I had witnessed only once in my life, a long time ago, but that I never thought I would be able to reproduce. I could feel my heart beating fast, my body heating up as I recovered from my shock. How ironic. 

I blinked a few times before realizing again that I was in a dangerous situation, running again to gain distance, now more confident, but still unsure if I would be able to reproduce what I had done. I noticed some looks of surprise and concern coming my way as I reached the rest of the group, but not everyone seemed to have noticed my little discovery. When I considered myself to be at a safe distance, I tried again, remembering how I felt in that moment of pure panic and adrenaline.   

Before I could realize it, my surroundings were being illuminated by the lightning I produced, redirected to the monsters who were suffering without being able to react due to the high voltage that was passing through, until they turned to dust. I felt my head hurt and my heart raced, maybe this was all a bit too much for me at the moment, but luckily for me, I was not alone. Several arrows came from behind me, hitting the remaining monsters, while some of the heroes took the opportunity to get closer and deliver the final blow with their swords, finishing off the rest of the monsters. 

All tired of the rush and adrenaline, we could finally breathe again. I threw myself on the ground, enjoying the feeling of relief that overcame me while a fit of laughter hit me, making me receive confused looks. Who would have thought, right? I managed to calm myself down while breathing heavily trying to calm myself down, the rain now seemed like a relief to my overheated body. 

— I didn’t know I could do that. – Sky’s voice reached me, making me look at him and smile, as confused as he was. 

— Yeah, I didn’t know either. 

— That was really cool! – Wind exclaimed, throwing himself next to me and making me laugh. The others seemed to agree with the brat, yeah, I thought it was really cool too. 

Everyone took advantage of this moment to relax a little and catch their breath, all very exhausted after a long day and a not-so-fun chase. The sound of thunder now seemed more like a victory song, making me feel, in a way, powerful. But not powerful enough to deal with the freezing rain, apparently, because all it took was a sneeze from me for na uproar to start among the men in the group, something between scolding me for getting caught in the rain and looking for a dry and safe place to spend the night, as quickly as possible. 

[daosies]

a moment in a bottle

Neuvillette wishes he could preserve this moment forever: the aquarium; the blue light; you.

(Everyone knows that Neuvillette adores you. Except for you, of course.)

(additional, more helpful description: u & neuvillette go on an aquarium date and he pines after you like a fool)

modern, college!au

NEUVILLETTE ♡ GN!READER

@2024gisecretsanta gift for @aquatik !! ♡ i hope you enjoy this piece, and happy holidays!!!

it was so fun to participate in this event ^^ thank u to the hosts and everyone involved for making this so special!!

Neuvillette has always noticed you. 

But he notices a lot of things; like the musk of the earth after it rains, like the light that dapples the campus sidewalk, seeping in between the gaps of the leaves. Neuvillette notices a lot of things, some more than others—he muses, nearly tripping over an uneven slab of the concrete floor, periwinkle eyes fixated on nothing but—

You, similarly to him, are stumbling through the crowd. You, unlike him, are entranced in your own world, eyes darting to and fro, searching amongst the sea of people while he has only ever searched for you. There are too many people in this world, Neuvillette thinks, for him to notice every one. So he notices only one. He notices—

You return his gaze (and Neuvillette feels something shiver in his chest), your lips tugging into a smile (and Neuvillette thinks the sun has shifted, that the sun has reworked itself, tunnelling all its light towards you), your figure suddenly coming closer (and Neuvillette thinks that there is nothing left; he is complete; he is yours absolutely and that is enough). 

You return his gaze. You look at him! Oh, you see him! Neuvillette thinks, This is it, this must be it. This—this… 

(What is it? Neuvillette is no longer capable of thought. He is no longer sentient. He looks at you, and something slams against his ribs: this-is this-is this-is…)

“Neuvillette! I was looking for you!” you exclaim, your voice occupying his mind for much longer than it does the air. Your voice—its unfathomable timbre, its incomparable and fantastical sound! It’s enough, it’s enough!

Neuvillette opens his mouth to respond. There’s a word. He feels himself about to vomit. He feels it: the rush, the suffocation, the gag and the swallow and before he can utter it into existence he clamps his lips shut. There’s a word—or maybe three, or maybe there is no word, nothing in verbal language that is enough to liken your unutterable radiance. 

(What is it? The three words? The rush, the suffocation, the gag and the breathlessness? Neuvillette feels it sinking down his throat, ebbing, reduced from a violent blare to nothing more than a whisper, it goes…)

“[Name],” Neuvillette acknowledges. Maybe, that is enough. “May I ask why?”

Why are you looking for him? Why are you searching for him? Neuvillette wants to hear you say it for himself, to hear the words—which are, after all, nothing more than words—in your fantastical and wonderful timbre. He wants to hear you speak his name—which is just a word, which is just his surname—to feel the revelation, the awakening, the surge! 

“Just because,”—you say, and maybe that’s enough—”I was wondering if you had any plans over the weekend?”

Neuvillette blinks, astonished. Your smile is unwavering, your eyes—your eyes! Neuvillette briefly looks away. The image remains with him still; the color, the glint, the fraction of the sun that is vested within your soul. Neuvillette looks at you, your image devoured by periwinkle. 

“I don’t,” he replies. (He had promised Furina that he’d help her with her case study.) Momentarily, his gaze averts from yours. (He had told one of his professors that he’d volunteer during office hours—who was it, again?) The lie is bitter on his tongue; but Neuvillette isn’t lying. (He’s going to send an email to the professor later, once he remembers who he promised.) Your expression glows. (Maybe this is enough.) Your gentle smile evolves into an excited grin. (He’s going to have to draft a text to Furina, too.) This is enough.

“That’s great!” You reach for your bag, sifting through the various pockets, your hand emerging with two humble, paper tickets. “I won a raffle for aquarium tickets! Do you want to come with?”

He’s whole. He’s complete. This—this is it! This is the surge, the rush, the incomparable and unutterable word! Neuvillette feels it now; the spasm of his heart, the stutter of his throat, the shrink of his figure when you do so much as perceive him! 

Your gaze sinks into his skin. Neuvillette lets it. Your smile sears his brain. Neuvillette replays it. You blink. Neuvillette’s heart follows. 

(Do you ever realize the way he lives? The way he finds meaning only ever because it dances within you?)

This-is-this-is-this-is…

“I would love to,” he replies, unable to contain the smile that tugs at his lips, the smolder in his chest, the primal constriction of his lungs, heaving, desperate to breathe the air you exist in. A breath! A tinge! A fraction of your incomparable existence! This-is-this-is-this-is…

(Neuvillette wonders if you caught it: the word. The word, although pale in comparison, assigns meaning to the enormity that swells within him, the colossal creature, the colossal completion, the vitality; you! Oh, you! When he cannot say your name, he must say this word; this—this fraction, this tiny, insignificant thing: love, love, love! You, you, you!)

“Really?” you say, eyes growing wide. Your lips hang slightly agape, your expression wild and fantastical and bright (Neuvillette thinks this is it); but the shock dissipates into that of utter joy (Neuvillette thinks this is it), and you grin that grin of yours. That grin, (Neuvillette wipes his sweaty palms against the fabric of his dress pants), a simple little something that amounts into an enormous everything. 

“Of course.” Neuvillette knows that this is it. What else, if not this? 

You look at him. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, flowing without an ebb, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette doesn’t need to return your gaze; he was already looking at you), insignificant and worldly. 

All you have to do is look at him! All you have to do is perceive him!

“Does noon work for you?” 

Any time works, Neuvillette thinks, any time at all. You could ask for him at four in the morning and Neuvillette would respond; you could stir him from his sleep, from his stupor, from his life. (Take him! Take him from his life! Take him, already!)

“Yes,” Neuvillette says, unable to contain the waver of his voice, the way his fingers instinctively reach to fiddle with his sleeves, “that’s perfect.” 

You look away. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, ebbing without flow, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette wishes you would look at him; he wishes you would perceive him, for just a moment will do), insignificant and worldly.

“Alright,” you say, grinning. “Noon it is.”

This-is-this-is-this-is…

It is, Neuvillette thinks. This is it.

Neuvillette has an unspoken routine.

Every day, he wakes up at six, even if he has no morning classes. Every day, he takes a morning walk around the city, admiring the most mundane of sights, like the glow of the lamplights, reflecting off puddles that congregate along sidewalks, like the airplane that soars by, smoke trailing in its wake.

Every day, he returns to his apartment and drinks a warm cup of water. Every day, he opens his laptop, and he sifts through his inbox, responding to different emails and updating his calendar accordingly.

Every day, he saves a slot for you. Today, he fills it in officially; the weekend; the aquarium; noon.

Every day, Neuvillette shuts his laptop, and he takes a sip of his warm water, and he thinks. Sometimes, he thinks about legal cases. Sometimes, he thinks about assignments that are due. Sometimes, he doesn’t have any thoughts at all. 

But every time, he thinks of you. You weave yourself into his daily routine, the legal cases and the assignments. You appear! Even when you’re not there; even when he hasn’t seen you in a couple days, you’re terribly real and terribly vivid. 

And somehow, despite everything, you’re unfathomable. (But Neuvillette fathoms you so often, so poignantly, it’s as if you’re tangible. As if you’re worldly when all you have ever been, to him, was esoteric. Unable to be comprehended. Unable to be conjured within thought, in any comparable magnitude to the colossal vitality that is, so undoubtedly, real. So, undoubtedly, you.)

Today, Neuvillette dons his finest coat. He fits the warmest scarf around his neck. He pats his pockets, and he adjusts his wristwatch—what time is it, again? He looks down—ten o’clock, he should start leaving now. 

The door to his apartment swings open. Neuvillette glances up.

“Neuvillette?” Wriothesley remarks, shrugging off his work uniform haphazardly, strands of his obsidian hair sticking to his skin. “You’re still here?”

“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette acknowledges, “indeed, I am.”

“That’s a surprise,” Wriothesley says, pale blue eyes drifting over Neuvillette’s outfit. “What’s the occasion?” 

Neuvillette coughs into his fisted hand.

“I’m meeting with [Name] later.”

“Ah,” Wriothesley replies, smirking, “that adds up.”

Neuvillette has never considered himself to be transparent, but at the same time, he has never made it an effort to be enigmatic. But the knowing look that Wriothesley gives him is enough to make Neuvillette wonder: has he always been so plainly obvious?

Then, he thinks of you. Have you noticed how plainly obvious Neuvillette is? Have you known all along, yet never brought it up in an effort to spare his feelings?

(Have you ever wanted—for just a fraction, for just a moment—him to be so obvious? Have you ever looked at him—and held his image within your irises—when he hasn’t been looking at you (Which Neuvillette thinks, frankly, that’s impossible; he’s always looking at you)? Have you—have…)

Wriothesley chuckles. “Don’t think too hard about it. Who knows,”—he shrugs, his expression unreadable—“maybe you’ll be in for a surprise.”

Wriothesley has always known more than what he lets on; it’s just in his nature, as a part-time security guard and a student of criminal justice. 

He has never been wrong, Neuvillette thinks—his mind shifts. His mind forms an image, vivid and bright and fantastical; it’s you.

This time, however, he might be. Neuvillette thinks Wriothesley’s implications are outlandish. How could he expect a surprise from you, when you already do so much as exist?

Still, Neuvillette replies, “Maybe.”

There’s a magic that follows after your existence. It’s like the petrichor that swarms the earth after it rains; like the inevitable belief that night follows after day; like the certainty that vests within time; the fact that tomorrow will come, the fact that you are, despite everything, real. It’s unfathomable, really. Your existence. 

And Neuvillette has wondered when everything began, when the world started to shift, when the sun became more than the sun: when it became you. Maybe, it started when he was your partner in a group project back in physics class (which he barely managed to pass with your late-night tutoring and guidance). Maybe, it started when he realized that you were there throughout everything—through the years of his worst, when he loathed everyone, when he had no love in his heart, when the most mundane of things remained as they were: mundane.

Maybe, it doesn’t matter when things begin. All that matters is that they exist now.

“I should get going,” Neuvillette says, taking another peek at his watch.

Wriothesley nods. “Have fun. Let me know if there are any breakthroughs.”

Neuvillette blinks, echoing, “Breakthroughs?”

Wriothesley flashes another one of those knowing expressions. This time, all he offers is a hum. And this time, Neuvillette doesn’t pry; he gives in. Neuvillette does a lot of that—he thinks of you—giving in, and pressing onwards, and living in the unknown despite the answer being right—he thinks of you—in front of him.

He arrives at the subway station an hour and a half before noon. Neuvillette sneaks another glance at his wristwatch, thinking, I’m right on time. After taking a seat on a nearby bench, Neuvillette begins to observe, periwinkle gaze drifting across the sea of people, anchorless and free, his senses reborn as the world reincarnates anew. The air is crisp, the cold stinging the tip of his nose, puffs of condensation escaping his parted lips—Neuvillette feels everything. The fabric against his skin; the surge of life; the rush of the passerby; the frantic and erratic breath that life exhales with each gust of wind.

“Neuvillette!” a voice pierces the crowd, passing through the canal of his ear and stabbing cleanly through his heart. Although it’s just a sound, Neuvillette hears it wholly: the timbre, the tone, the familiarity of his name (which is, after all, not even his first name), the way the syllables sound sacred (and Neuvillette must attribute the fragility to the owner of the voice, not the name) despite it being uttered many times before. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… You. You! 

At your call, Neuvillette stands. His hands, unsure of what to do, reach for the sleeves of his coat, fiddling with the hem while his gaze fixates on you. Once more, periwinkle drowns in your figure. Once more, the world is right. 

“[Name],” Neuvillette replies, unable to contain the gentle smile that possesses his lips. “You’re early.”

You laugh. “You’re earlier!” 

“Yes,” he admits—this-is-this-is-this-is—“you’re right.”

The subway ride to the aquarium is peaceful. Neuvillette couldn’t have asked for anything else, because there you were, and there was the world, and there was the sun, and there you were, and—oh, did he mention that already? 

Neuvillette thinks you were the most wonderful of them all. You; your eyes, focused on the scenery outside. You; your voice, dipped into a whisper as you speak of precious little nothings which, to Neuvillette, seem to be worth everything. 

You’re radiant. Fantastically so. Neuvillette has this realization time and time again. Every time periwinkle swallows your image, and every time his heart shivers at the proximity of your presence, Neuvillette is made aware of how colossally significant you are. You’re like the world. Sublime. Wondrous.

“Neuvillette,” you suddenly say, and Neuvillette feels his ribs shudder. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

He swallows thickly—the way you say his name; oh, the way you, the way you—somehow, he finds his voice, breathing out, “It is my pleasure.”

“Neuvillette!”—and there you go again, calling his name, unaware of the spasm of his heart, the binding of his lungs—“come over here! Look, these are whale sharks!”

Oh, that’s right, Neuvillette thinks, this is your domain. Before he can open his mouth to respond, you usher him in the direction of the spotted creature, its wide mouth stretched agape while it drifts throughout the blue waters, followed by a squad of smaller fish. 

“Those are remoras,” you explain, “they attach themselves to sharks and feed off of parasites that grow on the shark’s skin.”

Oh, Neuvillette thinks, noticing the glimmer of your eyes under the aquatic light, noticing the way your words begin to slur together out of sheer excitement, unable to keep up with the tempo of your thoughts. 

You’re beautiful. 

“What are those?” Neuvillette asks, pointing towards the manta rays.

“Those are manta rays!” you exclaim. “Like the whale shark, they’re filter feeders!” 

“What does that mean?” Neuvillette queries. “To be a filter feeder?”

“It means both whale sharks and manta rays filter out the free-floating plankton drift in the water!” you say, and oh, Neuvillette thinks you look ethereal. This is your domain; the great ocean; the blue light; the knowledge; the passion. You own the sea. The world. Oh, the world! 

“Did you know manta rays don’t have skeletons? They’re made of cartilage.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Neuvillette replies, despite knowing that fact from the plethora of articles he read about marine life a couple days back. Neuvillette didn’t want to seem ignorant in front of you, a marine biology major, but at the same time, he thinks this is a much better alternative. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… 

You smile at him. “It’s all good! I go to this aquarium pretty often, so I know a thing or two.”

You’re lying, Neuvillette thinks. You know more than just a “thing or two.” You know—you know everything, it seems!

(Still, Neuvillette doesn’t pry. He does a lot of that, he supposes—he thinks of you—in your presence, and with the realization—he thinks of you—that you are, unbelievably, here. Tangible. With him. With him!)

Neuvillette wishes he could bottle this moment and keep it forever. 

He observes this aquarium through your gaze, measuring all the creatures with the same joy that you hold them to, learning all there is about different fin types and different species groups. Orcas are not fish, they are marine mammals—Neuvillette knew that too, from an article titled “What Are Orcas Truly?”—sharks breathe by swimming and passing oxygenated water through their gills—Neuvillette learned that fact last night from a video titled “Sharks Sleep While Moving!”

If he weren’t a law major, Neuvillette thinks he would’ve gone into marine biology, too. (And he wonders what it’d be like, to have the same classes as you, to be able to share this knowledge with you, to be able to discuss marine life on a higher level than the rudimentary facts you’re forced to share with him, who is unfamiliar with this world.) 

Neuvillette wishes that he knew more than what he knew. He wishes he could crawl into your brain and adore the ocean with the same passion that you have. He wishes he could share your struggles with strict lab professors, and discuss answers after difficult quizzes—but the boundary between your major and his is too large. He knows nothing. He can say nothing. He is nothing. So he opts to remain silent and stare. 

Can he ever return to this moment again? You; the blue light; the whale sharks; the manta rays; the world! Can he ever revisit this aquarium? Will you ever want to go with him again? Will you speak to him in the same, lovely voice? Will you call his name with the same, lovely timbre?

Oh, Neuvillette wants! He wants! He wants this moment! This aquarium! You!

His heart shudders.

This-is-this-is-this-is…

And the moment is ending. Everything returns to where it started. Neuvillette finds himself on the subway once more, sitting by your side, watching you watch the window, the sun setting in the horizon, the day slipping away.

He wants to bottle this: the pink hues, the orange glimmer, the blue memory, the aquarium, you. He wants to grasp this scene and slip it into his wallet, like a charm, like a reminder of the world and all that has meaning. He looks at you. He wants—and he stops there, because he’s overstepping his boundaries and that’s too much to ask for. 

A yawn escapes your lips, you apologize, muttering, “Sorry, I’m a little tired right now.” 

Neuvillette notices the lull of your head, the flutter of your lashes as you struggle to stay awake. 

“It’s alright.” His leg begins to bounce, his fingers reaching to fiddle with the hems of his sleeves once more. “If I may offer my shoulder, if you would, um… In case you would like to rest.”

Although you don’t seem to mind, or notice, the filler word that slips into his speech, Neuvillette is already questioning himself, berating his sudden inability to speak, reduced to nothing in your colossal presence. For how could he ever amount to anything if you are already everything?

“Thank you, Neuvillette.”

His heart lurches. His lungs heave. His brain falters, unable to form any coherent thought that isn’t composed, in its entirety, you.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head comes to rest against his shoulder, and Neuvillette thinks—while his leg bounces up and down, mad—that, if he could, he would bottle this moment, and—while his breath shutters, coming to a stop—and, and he would preserve it. And he would love it. This light; this subway; this world; you. Forever. 

Neuvillette has always noticed you. From the moment his periwinkle eyes first beheld your existence, from the moment the world incarnated anew, from the moment—which he wishes he could bottle—your gaze dawned upon him, when dusk dawned upon the two of you, when everything dissipated into darkness, he noticed you then. Even without sight. Even without speech. Even without his senses.

He notices you now, too. He notices the way your brow furrows when the sun’s light slips across your face, the world illuminating and perceiving your irrevocable beauty. He notices the way you turn away slightly, burying your face into the fabric of his coat, trying to escape the radiance which pales in comparison to your own.

His hand comes up to block the sun. Your expression eases. Your breathing evens out and the world is right again. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… 

Neuvillette rests his head against yours, his touch featherlight—the bounce of his leg comes to a stop—his lungs pausing, capturing the breath which holds the essence of your existence—and the moment is preserved—and the final incarnation is complete. 

This is… 

The sun’s final light disappears. The moment is over. 

Neuvillette feels your head against his. A new moment starts. 

And he supposes—without much deliberation—and he thinks—and he has thought this, for the longest of times—that this is love. 

(This is enough.)

[ciciyup]

Pack Wolf X Reader who doesn't reciprocate his feelings headcanons.

Summary: In their wanderings, they find their imprint as soon as they see her for the first time; However, she doesn't seem to feel the same way.

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Sam Uley:

Seeing you for the first time, he would have almost involuntarily gotten down on his knees if it hadn't been that they were in a public place and you were accompanied. It was something unique, something he didn't expect, but there you were, and Sam felt the need to get close to you no matter what. Him approaching you to talk about whatever as an excuse to get to know you wasn't rough enough; he needed to see you again.

As soon as he brought up any kind of topic he noticed how incredibly kind you were when you addressed him, but he also noticed how you didn't even seem to be feel the same. There was no spark in your eyes, no accelerated breathing, no special something that seemed to unite you. You were supposed to be soulmates, weren't you? You were supposed to be perfect for each other, so why as time went on did you seem to treat him like any other normal person? Why wasn't there "that" something in your eyes when you looked at him? Sam had imprinted himself on you, he knew it, everyone knew it, but they also seemed to notice his constant attempts to be closer to you, his constant silent pain.

You treated him well of course, you were friendly to everyone on the reservation, you were sweet to Sam more than he could ask for, but he still didn’t seem to be strong enough with his advances for you to see him the way he was expected. Even after explaining his secret and about the imprint, you seemed to try to feel a connection with him; you spent time by his side, you did everything you could, but the feeling just didn’t seem to be there. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t feel the connection and as time went on you began to wear yourself out and try to find something that just wasn’t there. Finally explaining to him that you couldn’t go on and giving him a clear rejection.

Even though your rejection seemed to hurt him much more than expected, he decided to suffer in silence, prioritizing your feelings over his. Sam would become understanding and calm, not losing his temper, even though he knew how painful it would be, knowing that imprinting shouldn't be forced. Though promising that if only you wanted him, he would be there for you, a good friend or brother, even a companion. Imprinting would involve prioritizing your well-being above all else, so Sam would do everything he could to make sure you were happy and safe, even if that meant keeping his distance so as not to make you uncomfortable.

Though Sam would try to be understanding, the pain he felt was indescribable. Even though you hadn't cut him out of your life completely, just being so far away from you would be hard to handle, starting to feel internal conflict due to the intensity of the imprint itself, having moments where it's hard for him to deal with the lack of reciprocity, seeking support in his pack or those closest to him to handle his emotions.

If you allowed them to stay close, even without a romantic bond, Sam would try to be a reliable friend, being there for you when you needed it, a shoulder to cry on, someone to tell your problems to; whatever you wanted, he would do it. Acting quite mature and empathetic, focusing on what's best for you, even if it meant giving up his own feelings.

Paul Lahote:

Being someone with an explosive temper, Paul probably wouldn't handle rejection well. Trying to get close to you intensely as soon as he meets you, mistaking your lack of reciprocation for shyness or fear towards him, as if you weren't looking at him confused enough since you barely know him and he already seemed to know you all your life. Even though you treated him friendly, he could immediately tell that there didn't seem to be that emotion in your chest upon meeting him, leading to frustration with the pack, following him on the way home, trying to reassure him and explain to him that it would take some time and you would finally agree. It didn't.

Despite his frustration, the instinct to protect you would be greater, as seeing you every few days wouldn't be enough to calm him down, frequently showing up to make sure you were okay, even without you asking, which could seem invasive.

Over time, Paul would have several changes in attitude; The great irritability would be clear to everyone in the pack, and the growing, unstoppable pain would lead him to have fits of rage at anyone who crossed his path, though he would avoid taking it out on you, deciding to walk away, which only made it worse by being away from you. He would feel hurt and disoriented, not being able to understand how it was possible that you didn’t feel the same; you were made for each other, he had imprinted on you. Why was nothing happening? Why was it different with you when you were supposed to be the perfect match for each other?

You tried, you seemed to try many times, more than you could imagine, wishing you could feel the same so that both of your suffering would end, but it wasn’t like that; you couldn’t manage to feel anything and you couldn’t force yourself any further.

Although Paul was unconditionally devoted to you because of the imprint, he would also begin to realize that forcing your feelings was not only unfair to you, but painful to both of you. Trying to stay away and trying to figure out how to handle the situation. Even though Paul was stubborn, he wasn't completely insensitive. His loyalty to the pack and its values would drive him to show respect for your feelings and be a silent support for you. Understanding that imprinting didn't mean control or obligation for you, he would start to act more understanding and respectful, prioritizing what you wanted. Still, he couldn't help but care about you, protecting you whether silently or not from any danger, be it supernatural or human, trying to do so discreetly so as not to make you uncomfortable.

With time and the help of Sam or the other pack members, Paul could accept that their bond cannot be forced. Choosing to be close to you as a friend or support in your life if you so desired, and if so, he would remain as someone protective and loyal, focusing on your well-being and happiness. Although rejection would not be easy for Paul, as he would feel a void in not being able to live the fullness he expected from imprinting, he would learn to accept it with resignation and maturity and less impulsiveness. Even without reciprocation, Paul would continue to feel a connection and be willing to do or be whatever you wanted without expecting anything in return.

Embry Call:

He had always heard about the stories of imprinting and its importance; most of his companions in the pack already had their imprints, although he understood it, he never really understood it, until he met you. It was a very strong pass on the ball, making his companions ask him to go get it, being the closest, and at the edge of the water there was you, who quickly grabbed the ball that was hitting your feet to give it to its owner.

The first contact was different, very different from what Embry had imagined; everything seemed to stop after seeing you, the waves of the sea and the noise of his companions playing seemed far away and took a backseat; everything was reduced only to you. Approaching somewhat nervously, not knowing how to act, he managed to have a brief chat with you, internally hoping that you would agree to see him again. Yes, of course he had noticed your great lack of emotion or bright eyes; It wasn't how his companions had told him in their own experiences, but Embry wanted to believe that maybe it was different with you, maybe it would take a little longer.

Although he approached it with patience and understanding, he would still be confused after not noticing any change in his advances towards you without achieving anything, trusting more than he should, with a silent hope that, with time, you could come to feel something for him. However, he would never act selfishly to force this possibility.

Embry would begin to experience an internal struggle during the following days. Sure, he felt a deep and unbreakable connection towards you, but, on the other hand, the lack of reciprocity on your part would cause him emotional pain. Although he would not be upset with anyone, much less with you, the feeling would squeeze his chest tightly. At those times he would try to seek help from the pack, trying to understand and deal with his pain, some of them even trying to advise him or encourage him to focus on your needs instead of his feelings so he wouldn't suffer so much.

In the face of your rejection, Embry would react immediately; the pain was inevitable, but the imprinting would lead him to accept this reality, putting his personal feelings on the back burner. Even if you didn't feel anything towards him, Embry would dedicate his life to protecting and supporting you, your well-being being his priority. Behaving gently, making sure not to cross boundaries that would make you feel uncomfortable. Being close to you when you needed him, acting as a calm and reliable guardian. He would try to establish a friendly relationship with you if you wanted it. Trying to understand your interests, your passions and the things that made you happy, adapting to your needs. Probably looking to spend time with you casually, so that the pain of separation in the bond that united you didn't hurt him too much, but at the same time he would try not to suffocate or overwhelm you. Trying to maintain a fun and relaxed attitude to make you feel comfortable and maintain a good atmosphere.

If you were to express at any point that you needed space or didn't want a close relationship, he would accept it, even though it would inevitably hurt him. Embry would completely respect your wishes and feelings, as well as your boundaries. Imprinting would guide him to be patient and understanding, willing to wait or just accept whatever you decided. Even if you didn't feel the same way, it would be hard for Embry to stay completely away because of the bond. Trying to be close in indirect ways, helping you without you realizing it, or making sure you were safe.

Although Embry would accept anything you asked him to be or do, he would act with great devotion, dealing with his own pain with dignity, striving to be positive in your life. The situation would be somewhat complicated and painful, but his character would allow him to find ways to cope with it without ceasing to be faithful to the bond that has been created, putting your happiness and well-being above all, only wishing the best for you, even if that meant seeing you with another person.

Quil Ateara:

At first, he might not fully understand why he was attracted to someone in particular, as it wouldn’t be something that happened consciously, but rather something instinctive. Seeing you for the first time only makes him feel confused and disoriented; he knows that he is something strong, something unique, needing to be closer to you.

His protective and caring nature would come to the fore, making him inclined to do everything he could to get closer to you and interact in some way. His pack mates would explain this to him as the poor boy seemed to still be just as confused, though unable to answer their questions as to why you didn’t seem as interested or why you didn’t seem to view him with the same affection and devotion as he had when they had first met; perhaps Sam would step in explaining that it would all be a matter of time.

While Quil would be understanding because of their bond, he would quickly become aware that you didn’t feel the same way. He could tell just by looking at you; When he arrived, There wasn't that emotion when I saw it, even if it had only been a few hours since you'd seen each other, noticing your gestures and your efforts to try to find something that didn't seem to be there, that tiredness of continuing to try something you couldn't force and that sudden distance.

This initial rejection could make him feel hurt, even if your actions weren't intentional. The pack members would be a constant support for him, but he would experience the pain internally. The impression is a powerful thing; this would make Quil put aside his regrets and feelings in order to understand you, beginning to respect your wishes and not force a relationship; however, his emotions would still be intense. He would become more attentive and protective, trying to help you in any way he could, trying to gain your trust without rushing things. He would show himself as a close friend or even a brother, doing things you liked, showing a more relaxed part of himself so you wouldn't feel pressured or uncomfortable. His desire to take care of you might be something that expresses itself in less obvious ways, such as making sure you're okay in everyday situations or trying to make you feel special.

If you were to continue to reject any attempts at closeness, whether romantic or emotional, Quil could go through severe pain due to imprinting. His nature would push him to fight for you in whatever ways necessary to even have some sort of relationship with you, even if it was minimal, but his respect for your own boundaries would keep him in check. Acceptance would be difficult, but over time, Quil could learn to live with the deep connection he feels towards you, without trying to pressure you. Making it clear to you that he would be there for you if you wanted it, like a brother or a friend, taking your health and happiness as a priority, and if you were to continue not wanting any interaction with him then Quil would accept it, prudently staying away, even trying to take care of you silently, since the bond would not let him go away completely.

Although he would approach the subject with enough maturity and patience, the pain would still be there and would not go away completely, affected by the events and why it had not worked out as expected with him regarding the imprint. He would leave room for you to make your own decisions without interfering and accepting what you wanted, but even deep down wishing that one day you could feel the same as he felt for you.

Jared Cameron:

He's confused. The imprint was supposed to be an unbreakable and deep bond, something that makes you feel like the person you're imprinted with is the only one who can fulfill your deepest needs, just as the other person should feel, in a way, the same, practically incomplete if the other wasn't there. What had gone wrong? You make him feel a great desire to protect and care for you, but in the face of this the reality check comes faster than he could prevent, realizing that you don't actually share the same feeling.

His astonishment was inexplicable, since it was incredible how in one moment he was playing with his companions and in the next seconds he saw you and everything seemed to stop. The experience was transformative and overwhelming, but it also came with the weight of understanding that you didn't feel the same. Jared can realize it, perhaps not quickly enough to notice it the first time he sees you, trying to deal with his own feelings in between, but as the days go by and as he gets closer to you, he could tell. He understood it immediately; He couldn't force you to love him on the same level. It seemed to hit him like a bucket of cold water, trying to process it as maturely as he could, but with it came frustration due to the unbreakable connection he felt and the lack of reciprocation from you; it was a constant, throbbing pain that he never imagined feeling.

The imprint bond would make him understand in part that he couldn't rush or force your feelings, just as his own personal integrity would make him understand and cope with it. He would make him respectful of your space, being kind and calm. Adopting a supportive stance, hoping that, in time, you would come to understand and accept the connection between you with or without a relationship in between.

Jared would feel a strong need to protect you due to the imprint. Driving him to be close, more than you would want. Despite his desires to be close to you, Jared would be aware of his limits, avoiding being evasive, but intervening discreetly if you were in danger. Even though the imprint makes him feel like you are his “everything,” he would understand the need to not be dominant or possessive, given that you don’t share the same feelings. Even though your rejection was already expected by him, when it comes, it seems harder to digest than he had imagined. Knowing that this was what you wanted, Jared would respect it by putting aside his thoughts and feelings to please you, trying to balance his desire to be close to you with the need to give you space and time to process what was happening.

Over time Jared would learn not to idealize this in a destructive way, even though the bond makes him think that you are the person he is meant to be with, he also understands that nothing can be forced. And even if you weren’t ready to feel the same or directly didn’t want anything with him, Jared wouldn’t pressure you, but he wouldn’t stop being there, waiting patiently.

Seth Clearwater:

When he first saw you, the world seemed to stop. The connection was instant and overwhelming; the imprint completely transformed him. Of course, he had heard of his pack mates and often saw them with their mates, but this seemed to be something much more intense than Seth could have imagined. You become the center of his universe, not just as a potential mate, but as someone to protect and care for no matter the consequences. The intensity of the feeling overwhelms him, but also fills him with hope and happiness.

Being sweet and genuine, Seth would not force his presence in your life, but would instead seek to approach you in a natural way. Starting with a few casual one-liners about the day, following it up with a few topics that led him to ask for your name, as well as his presence and humor, would have him confidently asking you to see him again. The following days he would show his kinder and more generous side: helping you with small things, making you laugh and spending time by your side as someone unconditional.

Over time, Seth would notice that, although you appreciated him and enjoyed his company, you showed no signs of feeling something deeper. Perhaps he would have noticed it much earlier, but he wanted to lie to himself believing that it was just a matter of time. Although his advances continued to be noticeable, you seemed to no longer enjoy the more intimate approach, which led you to confess that your feelings were not the same as those he had for you. This would be devastating for Seth, since the imprint was not something he could control or diminish. Despite this, Seth would not allow himself to blame or pressure you, understanding that everything should be free and mutual.

He would begin to go through an internal process of sadness and acceptance; his innate kindness would keep him focused on what was best for you. Although it would be painful for him to observe how you did not feel the same, he would commit to staying in your life in the way you wanted. In private he would lean on the pack, who comforted him and gave him advice, especially Leah, who would understand his pain due to her own experiences, helping him deal with the emotional burden.

Seth would continue to be a part of your life if you wanted him to be, and if not, then he would accept it with great internal pain, but accepting of your wishes, watching over you from the shadows. He would never impose his feelings on you or expect you to reciprocate, seeking the best for you. And if you wanted to cut contact completely, then Seth would accept it without complaint no matter how much pain it caused him, putting your feelings before anything else.

Despite the pain, Seth would maintain his hopeful nature by looking for ways to adapt, learning to handle his unrequited feelings and channeling them into something positive. He would dedicate himself to protecting you from a distance or focusing on strengthening relationships with his family and pack. Over time he could learn to balance his imprint with his own need to move on, although the connection would never completely disappear.

Jacob Black:

He had always found the subject of imprinting strange and even aberrant; seeing how his companions seemed to abandon themselves so that someone else could practically take them as if they were their own to do with as they pleased was simply something Jacob didn't seem to or wanted to understand. Everything changed when he saw you; he now understood what everyone was talking about. He feels the powerful pull of imprinting, an unbreakable bond that reconfigures his world around you. His senses sharpen, his heart beats hard, and the need to be close to you becomes overwhelming. In that instant you become his absolute priority, overriding any other connection or concern.

Jacob would look for ways to approach you naturally, using his charisma and sense of humor as tools to gain your trust. He would try to become a close and constant friend in your life, willing to listen to you, support you, and protect you from any danger, even if you weren't aware of the extent of his commitment.

Over time, Jacob would probably manage to become an important figure in your life. He would accompany you in your everyday problems, offering you solutions or simply his presence. His actions, driven by imprinting, would be selfless and focused on your well-being. However, as the relationship progresses, he begins to notice that although you appreciate him and feel comfortable, you show no signs of developing feelings towards him. Although you try hard to give and surrender to him, you know that you cannot match his commitment; despite your constant attempts, you just don’t succeed.

Once you confess to Jacob and give him the clear rejection, he would experience an emotional storm. His pain would not come from the rejection itself, but from the inability to fulfill what he perceives as his purpose: to make you happy. It would make him rethink and ask himself if he is doing something wrong or if he is meant to live with those one-sided feelings. Even though he wants you to see him the same way, he wouldn’t try to pressure or manipulate you due to imprinting forcing him to prioritize your desires and well-being over his own. Even though you didn’t feel the same way, Jacob wouldn’t be able to emotionally detach himself. He would continue to care for you, making sure you were safe. He would try to find comfort in friendship, focusing on being a support in your life without expecting anything in return.

If you wished instead to have no relationship with him at all, wanting to cut off contact, even though he would feel deeply hurt, Jacob would respect your decision. Having to fight his own instincts to not constantly seek you out, even going so far as to feel great constant pain and guilt, would lead him to isolate himself from the pack and his friends, constantly morphing to release pent-up tension and emotions, feeling unable to explain his suffering or find comfort.

Even though others in the pack couldn’t fully understand the pain of an unrequited imprint, they would offer comfort and support; Even Sam would try to guide him to handle his feelings so that the bond wouldn't be so painful.

Jacob would learn to deal with frustration and pain, taking comfort in secretly caring for you if you didn't want him around, and if that wasn't it, then he would settle for being a good friend in your life. Despite the lack of reciprocity, the bond wouldn't fade. The imprint is eternal, and although the pain might soften with time, he would always feel a special connection to you.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

[cakepoppresent]

Shareholders are Worse When Idle

Vaghun just wants the best for his Little Lady~

Transcript under the cut~

[Vaghun]: Its nice running into you here Princess.

[Veronica]: You stalking me now Leary?

[Vaghun]: Not at all. Just a coincidence.

[Veronica]: No such thing as coincidences when it comes to you. You just happened to be at Xavier's school? For what?

[Vaghun]: The Leary's are alumni of the school, I’m here on behalf of my father for a meeting. Seeing you is just a nice treat

[Veronica]: Whatever.

[Veronica]: Is that right? Thats weird since I don’t actually want to speak with you. You can leave~

[Vaghun]: It’s good that I caught you here. I’ve been meaning to speak to you

[Vaghun]: It’s important Princess. Has to do with you working with your father

[Veronica]: Excuse me?

[Vaghun]: I’ve been hearing rumours you’re having issues gaining the trust of the shareholders

[Veronica]: It’s just rumors. I’m doing just fine, nothing to worry about

[Vaghun]: Of course not Princess but shareholders can be vicious and I’m worried for you.

[Veronica]: “Worried for me?” Get over yourself. My work ethic and results speak for itself. The shareholders are just old losers with nothing to do

[Veronica]: Wait...What the hell are you saying?

[Vaghun]: Its not just about work ethic. They wanna know if you have any pull with other influential families in San My. And I’ve heard that’s not the case and that’s why they’re worried. Nothing good comes from worried shareholders

[Vaghun]: I’m saying you have no backing and they think you’re weak. Your father owning the company isn’t enough, especially if you're being groomed to take over

[Veronica]: Just stop talking for a second. Just shut up. Where are you hearing all of this? You know more about my company than I do? How?

[Vaghun]: The perks of being a Leary. We have eyes everywhere

[Veronica]: Don’t piss me off right now. You sound like a fucking creep

[Vaghun]: I’m just worried for you Princess. Its better that you know and be prepared

[Vaghun]: I don’t want to scare you Princess but I don’t want you to be blindsided if they try to pull the rough from underneath your feet

[Veronica]: Why hasn’t my dad said anything to me. I’m just supposed to take your word for it?

[Vaghun]: My sources are a bit different than your fathers but I'm sure he’s already aware

[Veronica]: I need to talk to my Dad about this

[Vaghun]: Let me help you Princess. This is something I specialize in

[Veronica]: God...This is the worst. Let me thi-

[Xavier]: Vaghun!!! I missed you so much!!

[Vaghun]: Little Dude! You’re looking much bigger now. What are they feeding you?

[Xavier]: Vaghun!!! I missed you so much!!

[Vaghun]: Little Dude! You’re looking much bigger now. What are they feeding you?

[Xavier]: Steak! Are you here with Veronica!? Can we all go out and eat?!

[Vaghun]: Unfortunately not Little Dude. I have a meeting with the school

[Xavier]: Awh...That’s so boring

[Xavier]: How long is your meeting? We can wait! Right V?! We’re just going home! Lets go eat!! Then to the aracade!!

[Veronica]: Absolutely not. You’re forgetting you’re grounded, I’m taking your ass right back home!

[Vaghun]: Grounded? You rob a bank or something?

[Xavier]: Nothing! I took my friends to have fun! There’s no crime in that

[Veronica]: Incorrect. Skipping your tutor lessons and spending over $500 at an arcade isn’t “nothing”

[Vaghun]: Can’t get you outta this one but once you're free I can take you out. With your sister's permission of course

[Veronica]: Hmm...I’ll think about it

[Xavier]: Ughhhh We don’t even have to tell Mom or Dad! Lets just go out and eat!

[Veronica]: No. Accept your punishment's and get over it

[Vaghun]: Don’t worry Little Dude. I’ll see you soon

[Veronica]: You can book an appointment with my secretory if you wanna speak with me Leary

[Vaghun]: We have more to talk about Princess. I just want to help

[Vaghun]: I can do that. See you soon Gorgeous

[Veronica]: Whatever

[howlingmod]

under the mistletoe

summary - every phighter (seperately) x reader, as it sounds

misc - HAPPY HOLIDAYS ..... smiles

sword

"What?"

-doesn't plan it ; i don't think he knows it's a thing. no reasoning i just don't think he would be aware. he's not totally in the dark about all the little romanticisms of the holidays but this one's a little lost on hi.

-he doesn't really get it is all ......... it's cute sure, but he kisses you all the time, what's so special about this?

-he'll still get a little shy though, he's kissing you! in front of people! and you're fine with that! what! he's confident enough in your relationship, but he's still a little awestruck everytime you guys do something so intimate in public

-he likes knowing you're fine with people knowing you're together about as much as he likes to show you how much he loves you.

skate

"C'mon baby! It's the rules!"

-doesn't actively try to set it up too much. he's moreso just nudging you in the right riection every now and then and staring at it for most of the night. it's very obvious to everyone else.

-he just thinks its a staple! the mistletoe kiss is right up there with the new years kiss, it's one of the most romantic gestures out there (in his book)!

-honestly very sweet about it, will probably put his arms around our waist or grab and hold your hands to pull you closer.

-also he just likes showing you off and this is the easiest way of doing that other than all the verbal bragging he's doing that night. whoops.

katana

"..."

-not going to set it up or care much. it's a cute tradition, but nothing super important to him. plus, it's really gonna depend on your surroundings. if you're around other people, he'll keep it in mind for when you're alone (consider it a delayed one). if it's just you two, then he's a lot more likely to oblige.

-it's really up to you. if you seem nervous or uninterested, he's not going to push it at all. he'd much rather go at your pace and make sure you're ready and comfortable than pry for a silly tradition.

-he's a very sentimental kisser, so expect to be there for a few seconds. he likes taking his time so he can put as much of his heart into it as he can.

-while the tradition itself isn't anything to him, the gesture is very important to him. he's got some pretty gnarly scars, so knowing you're still willing to do something so intimate when you can see and feel them makes him happier than he knows how to say.

banhammer

"Funny seeing you here!"

-doesn't plan it really. he thinks about it, he thinks it'd be cute, but he doesn't really push you over there. he might whine about it a little afterwards if he doesn't end up doing it (it's so tropey, he has to man), but that's about it

-he takes it a liiitle seriously. he's all for traditions like this man you don't get it, he just thinks they've got such a charm to them. they're so simple and yet have so much payoff ...

-he's dropping a shitty one-liner sorry. he thinks its fun to flirt with you like you two aren't dating. he's gotta prove to you he's a good boyfriend, alright?

-sweet kisser though. if you're especially shorter thn him, he might lift you up into his arms a bit to make it easier on the both of you. if not, you're still getting pulled right up to him. it's cold outtt .... ::]

-

rocket

"Well, you know what they say!"

-nudges you in the right direction. he wants at least one, it's a classic! he's pretty similar to skate in this regard.

-it's a big show of affection in his eyes just because it encompasses so many feelings for him- he gets to show you off, he gets to kiss you, AND he gets to do something stupidly cheesy, what more could he want?

-he's a little messy with it- more so because he's excited. he ends up going in a little too fast and maybe bumping eachother if you're not careful.

-he'll have an arm around your waist for the rest of the night. he's pretty proud of himself.

slingshot

"What? Oh- OH!"

-doesn't plan it at all. in all honesty, it probably happens at the cafe rather than a party. it just got thrown in with all the other holiday decorations, so he hung it up without really thinking about it.

-if it happens during the workday, he's a little iffy on it, he'd like to mantain as much professionalism as he can ... buuut he might still give you a little peck before rushing off to work on the orders. if you're alone, then he's more than happy to linger a little longer.

-the type to hold the side of your face or your shoulder while kissing. he likes the stability of it and just thinks it's cute ...

scythe

"Well well- lookey here."

-she planned this. she's the reason the mistletoe is there. this was not fate this was a grand plot and you don't even know the start of it.

-oh come on- of course scythe of all people would be all over this! it's an easy way to show off your relationship (she's possessive, sue her) and to get a free kiss. there's no way she's gonna pass up an opportunity like this.

-she makes a big show of it, sorry. she loves to get under your skin and fluster you, so she's gonna spend her time getting closer and teasing you about you looking a little embarassed.

-the kiss itself is surprisingly chaste and sweet, she likes showing you off but she's got class, alright?

shuriken

"Well, I'm waaaiting ..."

-plans it. he spends a good part of the night herding you over there at least once but most likely twice. sue him for wanting to kiss his partner...

-he's not super used to the tradition, so it's still got that allure of something new to him. he's got a hyped up view of it, so he's pretty excited and it shows in how he's grinning like an idiot the moment he gets the chance.

-this isn't to say its gonna wear off to him though- it'll get normalized, sure, but he still looks forward to it every time. it's romantic! it's cute! let him live!

-annoyingly sneaky about it too- please don't act too surprised, you're only going to feed his ego

hyperlaser

"Negative."

-it's a hard no in public. no explanation needed he's not doing it. If you really wanna you can kiss his helmet, and honestly ......... he would think it's cute. it's a stupid tradition but you pull it off.

-if you do, he'll return the favor later (once you have less eyes on you) by leaning his head against yours. it's not a huge deal but it's a little way of him sort-of doing it back .. in spirit at least.

-in private ... ehhhh. he's still iffy on it. if you ask really nicely he might lift his helmet up just enough, but that's about it. it's just not super comfortable for him.

-not a pda guy but he'll hold your hand and keep you at his side. it's nothing special toan on looker but to him it's a show of love and care- if he didn't love you, he wouldn't bother holding you so close to him. he values his space and privacy, so know that him including you in it is a way of him showing your importance to him.

-

medkit

"Really?"

-doesn't plan it ; he thinks its silly. around people, it's gonna be a no, he's not super into PDA. if it's just the two of you ... you could convince him.

-he still thinks it's stupid, but he's willing to do stupid things if it means you're happy. a very chaste kisser but that doesn't take any of the sentiment out of it, he really does mean every little gesture of affection.

-he's going to hold your hand most likely, it's a little comfort to him- he's prone to squeezing your hand in a nonverbal 'i love you.'

-he'll be thinking about it everytime he sees mistletoe again for the next few days. it's driving him a little crazy he's coming home and staring at your lips a little bit while you guys tell eachother about your day. expect a few more kisses than normal

boombox

"(You wanna?)"

-the truest of neutrals. he thinks it's cute and he doesn't mind pda, but it's not something he sees as super important. he's very confident in your relationship and he's pretty affectionate already, so it's your call really

-it'll probably be just a quick peck, but that's only because he's probably kissed you a few times already and has haf an arm around you the whole night anyway

-really, it's just not necessary. you're already pissing everyone off with how sweet the two of you are you don't need the extra gesture.

subspace

"Ugh- Don't be ridiculous!"

-he's only going to realize if someone else walks him through it. he's not super familiar with all the traditions that go with the season, so a lot of them come off as pretty strange to him.

-if it's around other people, it's not happening, sorry. at most, he'll take you kissing the mask, but even then he might grumble a bit (he likes showing off, being vulnerable and recieving affection is a little different). nothing personal, he's just not taking it off around others.

-if it's just you two though ... then he can be swayed. he'll still think it's stupid and you're being strange but he signed up for that. he'll do it if only to see what all the fuss is about.

-'that's it?' and then he's doing it again the next time you ask. he is not immune.

vine staff

"Oh! Well, only if you'd like to..."

-she will not notice unless someone points it out to her. she's spent a lot of holiday seasons with shuriken and slingshot, so she just forgot this was apart of the holiday honestly. she's a lot more accustomed to the chaos than the sweeter little things (help her).

-while everyone would ask first, she's the most 'whatever' about it. It's a cute thing, don't get her wrong! she just doesn't feel the need to perform, for lack of a better term. she loves you and knows you love her, she doesn't really feel the need to show that off too much.

-if it was a smaller gathering, she'd be a little more into it, but if it's a bigger party she's happy to just talk to you about anything and everything under the mistletoe instead.

-very short and chaste but sweet all the same. she might grab and hold onto one of your hands, she usually won't let go afterwords either. smile

coil

"Aww- Did you plan this?"

-he doesn't set it up at first. the first time, he kinda forgot it was a thing- he's been busy! but once he realizes he's got a free 'kiss s/o' AND 'show s/o off' card, it's over. he's so smooth with it it's annoying. whether he meets you there so you have to stop below it or he casually leads you over while you're both talking, it might as well say gullible on the ceiling.

-like skate, he likes pulling you real close. he's a fan of physical affection, so you bet he's taking the chance to throw his arms around you. even afterwards, he'll keep an arm slung around you.

-he can't go to big parties, so he's usually just around skates gang, but he'll still take the opportunity to brag. he knows you're a catch, he knows you're sweet on him, how could he not be a little smug?

-if you pull a fast one on him and pull HIM under the mistletoe though, you can bet he's impressed. he'll be teasing you about it for a bit, but only because he thinks it's adorable.

[chilapis]

I think every moment is eternal in its own right and we hold no authority to deny it that status. Even if it is a forever that will escape our memories, it’ll still exist as a forever in the history of time. In the memories of no-one but the Earth itself. In the records kept and made by no-one, where everything is stored for all time to come. No love is lost and no existence truly unacknowledged.