#its been staring at me from the corner since december

[sintoxic]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Dead by Daylight (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Frank Morrison Characters: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face, Frank Morrison, Clive Andrews Additional Tags: Suggestive Themes, Recreational Drug Use, Marijuana, Shotgunning, Violent Thoughts, Attempted Murder, Implied Sexual Content, Possibly Unrequited Love, Making Out, Boys Kissing, Friends With Benefits, but without the friends part, Frank wants a serial killer bf, Danny 'what are feelings' Johnson, Not Beta Read, Unhealthy Relationships, Danny's POV, 1990s, Pet Names, Sexual Tension, Older Man/Younger Man, Insecurity, Two Shot, Feelings Realization, Death Threats, No Smut Summary:

At that moment, all Danny could think about was how pretty his boy was. Over and over, the word replayed in his head like a hymn.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

“Danny?” Frank said. “You good? You’re lookin’ at me all weird again.”

—

Or Danny shows up at Frank’s place unannounced and gets more than he bargained for.

[noira-l]

𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝙻𝚒𝚙𝚜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: On the most romantic night of the year—December 24th—what should’ve been a simple mission leaves you walking home through snow-dusted streets with Gojo Satoru, a boy you’ve had a hopeless crush on for as long as you can remember. The falling snow and quiet glow of streetlamps set the perfect scene… until he casually asks if you’ve had your first kiss.

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — teen!gojo satoru x gn reader

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 — really shy reader, pining, reader has a crush on Gojo, first kiss, romantic setting.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 1,5 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — Just a mini special! Consider this a small Christmas gift from me to all of you. I hope this brings a little joy your way. Thank you for being here, and Merry Christmas! c:

𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 — sia - snowman

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

"What a pain..." he groaned, his voice cutting through the stillness "Why’d we even have to do that mission tonight? Christmas Eve, seriously?"

The snow crunched softly beneath your boots, muffling the sound of your steps as you walked beside Gojo. The mission had taken longer than expected, and now the two of you were making your way back through the quiet streets. A thin layer of snow blanketed the ground, dusting the branches of the trees lining the road. Street lamps cast faint halos onto the snow, their warm light stretching out in pools along the empty path.

Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh, stuffing his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he tilted his head back, staring dramatically at the falling snow.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, feeling the way your cheeks warmed up despite the chill in the air. It wasn’t unusual for him to complain - if anything, it was part of his charm - something about his tone always made your heart flutter.

"It wasn’t that bad." you said quietly, your breath curling in the frosty air.

He shot you a sideways glance, his glasses lowered, white hair speckled with snowflakes. His scarf, sloppily thrown around his neck, billowed slightly in the wind.

"Not that bad? We could’ve been in warm beds right now, drinking hot chocolate or something. But nooo, we’re out here fighting curses in the snow like in some tragic drama."

You suppressed a smile, biting the inside of your cheek.

He had a point. The mission had been cold and tiring, and you were already beginning to feel the weight of exhaustion creeping into your legs. Still, there was something... so nice about this. Just the two of you, walking side by side in the quiet winter night.

And the imagine of you with him, under a blanket, sharing hot chocolate as snow gently tapped against the window. Dreamy, to find yourself in such a scenario with him.

Well, it wasn't surprising, you had a crush on him since forever.

Gojo’s breath puffed out like soft clouds as he spoke again "Everyone else gets to be at home, watching movies or doing couple-y stuff." he nudged you lightly with his elbow, his tone turning teasing "Bet you’re sad you’re stuck with me, huh?"

Your heart stumbled in your chest, you gripped the edges of your scarf tighter, as if it might somehow hide the heat blooming on your face.

"N-no." you mumbled, hoping your voice didn’t betray the way you felt.

"Aw, come on." he leaned closer, peering at you with that mischievous glint in his eye "Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this."

"I—I just think the snow is pretty." you deflected, focusing intently on the snow-covered path ahead. The way the street lamps lit up the flakes made them look like falling stars. Anything that might help turn his attention away from you.

Gojo hummed thoughtfully, falling quiet for a rare moment "Yeah." he said softly after a beat "I guess it is."

His voice had lost its bratty edge, settling quieter, almost thoughtful. When you glanced at him again, you noticed the way his gaze softened, lingering on the snow-laden branches overhead. The orange glow from the lamps highlighted the curve of his jaw and the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You catch yourself looking at him, heart squeezed in your chest at the realization. You quickly looked away, afraid he might catch you staring.

"Hey." Gojo’s voice broke the silence again, but this time his tone was playful "Have you had your first kiss yet?"

You nearly tripped over your own feet "W-what?!"

Gojo snickered, clearly enjoying the sight of you flustered "I’m just curious. You seem like the type who’d get all red and shy about it."

"I—I don’t see why that matters!" you stammered, feeling your face heat up more with every word.

He grinned, watching you with that, stupidly handsome amused expression of his "Ohhh, I’ll take that as a no."

You huffed, pulling your scarf higher over your face, but the warmth in your chest lingered despite your embarrassment. You desperatly wanted to hide you face from him.

Suddenly, Gojo tilted his head, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur "Want me to change that?"

Your eyes widened in shock, your heart racing painfully in your chest "W-what?! No—I mean, I—"

The more you tried to respond, the hotter your face felt, your words tangling over themselves hopelessly. You became a blabbering mess. Gojo burst out laughing, his breathless chuckles filling the cold air.

"Relax, I’m just messing with you." he said with a grin, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

You slowed your steps, letting him pass you by just slightly. The sound of his footsteps continued ahead as you lingered behind, your breath visible in the cold night. You glanced down at the snow, your breath curling like smoke as it left your lips. The quiet was heavy, but it felt like the kind of silence that could shatter with just one word.

And it did, with one sentace.

"I... I want you to change that." you said softly, barely above a whisper, more to yourself than to him.

Gojo stopped mid-step, the snow crunching softly beneath his feet. Slowly, he turned around to face you, his expression unreadable under the dim light of the streetlamp.

Then, with a devilish grin, he leaned slightly forward.

"Oh? You really just said that? Bold of you. What if I’m terrible at it?" he smirked wider, tilting his head playfully "But~ I could go all out – twirl you under the streetlamp, dip you low, and make it look like a scene straight out of a cheesy romance movie. How’s that sound?"

Your face burned hotter than ever, and for a second, you couldn't even look at him. The thought of Gojo actually doing that- of his hand gently reaching for yours, his face inching closer under the soft glow of the streetlamp - felt like too much to bear. You think you're on a verge of heart attack.

"Forget it!" you blurted, your voice higher than intended. So many emotions mixing under your shy shell. You stared walking again, embarrassed.

Gojo laughed again, hands behind his head as he strolled ahead.

After a few steps, he slowed, letting his arms drop to his sides as he turned and stepped closer to you. You also stopped your steps.

His face hovered just a little too near. Intense gaze lingered on yours for a heartbeat too long, his bright blue eyes glimmering under the faint light, framed by delicate white lashes that catched the falling snow.

Slowly, he even stepped closer, his hand gently curling around your wrist as he pulled you toward him, the soft fabric of his coat brushing against your arms. Your breath hitched in surprise, but you didn't pull away. You couldn't grasp what was going on.

His breath warmed the space between you. Then he leaned in, the tip of his nose grazing yours for just a split second before his lips met yours.

Oh wow.

He kissed you.

It was so shy, so soft, that it almost doesn't resemble his style at all. You dreamed of tasting his lips, which proved to be warm, plush and faintly sweet, like the lingering trace of candy or the memory of laughter shared on a quiet afternoon. The brushes of his pink lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning in without realizing it.

Gods, you're kissing him.

The heat from that though spread through your chest, making your heart hammer loudly in your ears, drowning out the world around you. His white lashes fluttered faintly as his eyes half-closed, and for a second, you thought he might pull away.

But no, instead, his hand slid gently to your lower back, pulling you impossibly close, and his kiss grew more assured. A little more intense. You rested your hands against his chest for stabilization, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. His heartbeat thumped faintly beneath your touch. Your head began to spin and you knees slightly bend from the sensation of his tongue against yours.

His arms tightened around you, as if he could feel you melt in his embrace.

You pulled away after a while, breathless, hearts racing wildly. That was the best first kiss ever.

"How'd that go?" he asks, his voice low and playful, but still mesmerized as if he was still savoring the kiss as much as you were.

You, completely captivated, red and mushy, manage a soft.

"Amazing." your voice wavers slightly, betraying the lingering breathlessness he left behind.

He chuckles, the sound warm enough to melt the snow between you, and reaches out to adjust your scarf with a gentle touch. His fingers brush against your neck for the briefest moment, sending a ripple of warmth through you despite the chill in the air.

"How about more of that… and some hot chocolate when we get back?" he suggests, his signature boyish grin on place, yet there’s a bit of softness in his expression that makes your heart flutter all over again.

You nod, unable to suppress the big smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

© noira-l | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

[theonottsbxtch]

SACRED ASHES | CL16

an: this was a request from @waytooobsessedwithlife and i think edgar allen poe possesed my body and wrote this, enjoy

warnings: religous themes

wc: 5.2k

THE CHURCH WAS COLDER than she’d expected. A frigid December draft seeped through the old wooden doors, curling its way up her spine like an unwanted hand. She hadn’t been in a place like this for years, not since she was a child and her Sundays were dictated by her parents’ piety. The smell of wax and ancient wood was the same, though, as was the hollow echo of voices ricocheting off the high, vaulted ceiling.

She sat stiffly in the pew, her arms crossed over her chest, her mouth set in a defiant line. The hymns washed over her, half-forgotten verses bubbling up from the recesses of her memory. Her grandmother sang with fervour, her voice wavering yet unyielding.

And then, she saw him.

He was standing near the altar, his head bowed as though in prayer, the soft light from the stained-glass windows painting his pale skin in hues of crimson and gold. He was slender, boyish in a way that made her stomach twist unexpectedly. His dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, and his lips moved in quiet harmony with the hymn, though his voice didn’t rise above the others.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him, curious despite herself. He seemed untouchable, like something out of a painting—an angel that had stumbled into the wrong century. And yet, there was a fragility to him, a softness that made her bold gaze feel like an intrusion.

When he finally glanced up, his eyes met hers. They were a soft green, wide with surprise, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fall away. She tilted her head slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. He blinked, his face colouring as he quickly looked away.

“Mm,” she hummed softly under her breath, leaning back against the pew. Interesting.

The service dragged on, but she hardly noticed. Her attention flickered to him again and again, drawn to the quiet way he moved, the way his hands fidgeted with the hem of his choir robe when he thought no one was watching.

After the final hymn, she slipped out with the first rush of people, desperate for fresh air. Outside, she lit a cigarette, cupping her hands against the wind. The first drag filled her lungs, sharp and bitter, grounding her.

And then he was there.

He emerged from the heavy oak doors, his coat too thin for the biting cold. She recognised him immediately, even with the way he kept his head down, as though willing himself to be invisible. But when he noticed her, his steps faltered.

She exhaled a curl of smoke, the grey tendrils spiralling between them like a challenge. “You look like you’re freezing,” she said, her voice low, tinged with amusement.

He hesitated, his cheeks flushed from either the cold or something else entirely. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice soft, almost musical.

“Sure you are.” She tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made him shift awkwardly. “You always this shy, or is it just me?”

He looked away, his lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. “I… don’t usually talk to people out here.”

“Lucky me, then.” Her smile was slow, teasing, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper—curiosity, maybe even a touch of admiration. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them filled only by the distant hum of Christmas carols spilling from the church.

“You shouldn’t smoke here,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s… disrespectful.”

She raised an eyebrow, letting the cigarette dangle from her fingers. “Disrespectful?” Her tone was incredulous, but her gaze was steady, probing. “And what would you call staring at me during the service, then?”

His mouth opened, then closed again, his face turning a deeper shade of red. “I wasn’t—”

“Oh, you were,” she interrupted, the corners of her mouth lifting into a wicked grin.

He faltered, his breath visible in the cold air, before finally meeting her gaze. “I’m Charles,” he said, the words almost lost to the wind.

She let the name linger in the air between them, savouring the sound of it. “Charles,” she repeated, as though testing it. “Well then, Charles, maybe you should’ve kept staring. It’s the only thing about church that’s caught my interest in years.”

His lips parted, but no reply came. She took another drag, her eyes never leaving his, and for a moment, the world seemed to still once more.

Charles shifted on his feet, his breath fogging in the frigid air. “I… I wasn’t staring,” he said again, but the colour rising to his cheeks betrayed him.

She tilted her head, a slow smirk playing on her lips. “Sure you weren’t. You just happened to look my way… what, five times?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing nervously towards the church as though hoping for a divine intervention to save him. “It wasn’t five,” he murmured, his voice almost lost in the cold wind.

“Four, then.” She exhaled smoke in a languid stream, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Before he could stammer out a response, a voice cut through the evening air. “Darling! There you are!”

She winced. Her grandmother’s voice, clear and commanding, carried with the ease of someone used to making themselves heard. She turned her head to see the older woman striding towards her, a knitted shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Charles’ eyes widened. “You’re Lady Carden’s daughter?”

She raised an eyebrow, flicking ash from her cigarette. “Granddaughter,” she corrected, her tone sharp enough to slice through the frost. “Why does that matter?”

He blinked, looking flustered as he glanced between her and the approaching figure of her grandmother. “I just—” He hesitated, fumbling for the right words. “I mean, Lady Carden is so… devout. I don’t understand how…” He trailed off, gesturing faintly towards her cigarette and the defiance etched into her every move.

Her lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. More like a flicker of something darker, something veiled. She leaned in slightly, just enough to make him take a half-step back, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “That’s the thing about belief, Charles,” she said, her words laced with a quiet, almost mocking amusement. “It’s not hereditary.”

He stared at her, speechless, as she straightened and tossed the cigarette onto the ground, grinding it out beneath the heel of her boot.

“Come along, dear,” her grandmother called again, her tone softening as she drew nearer. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Coming,” she replied, turning away from Charles without another word.

She had taken only a few steps when she glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “See you around, Charles,” she said lightly, before slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat and disappearing into the night with her grandmother.

Charles stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot. The smell of smoke still lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the crisp scent of winter. He couldn’t help but feel as though she had left behind more than just a cigarette stub—something intangible, something that stirred in the pit of his chest.

He whispered her words to himself, testing them on his tongue. It’s not hereditary.

And then, with a faint shake of his head, he turned and walked back into the church, his thoughts a tangle of confusion and intrigue.

The next evening, Charles found himself standing awkwardly at the doorstep of Lady Carden’s house, a modest but stately home tucked neatly behind an iron gate. He adjusted the strap of his bag, which was slung over one shoulder, and glanced up at the window where a wreath hung perfectly centred.

Lady Carden had asked for his help transporting the church’s nativity set. The pieces were too delicate and numerous for her to manage alone, and he, ever eager to assist, had offered without hesitation. Still, now that he was here, he felt an inexplicable twinge of nervousness—not because of Lady Carden, but because of her.

She hadn’t left his thoughts since the night before. The way she had spoken to him, so self-assured and enigmatic, had unsettled him in a way he couldn’t explain.

The door opened suddenly, and Lady Carden’s warm smile greeted him. “Oh, Charles, thank you for coming,” she said, ushering him inside. “It’s so good of you to help.”

“It’s no trouble, Lady Carden,” he replied politely, stepping into the warmth of the house. The scent of cinnamon and pine enveloped him, mingling with the faint strains of a Christmas hymn playing somewhere upstairs.

“The nativity pieces are in the sitting room,” she said, gesturing down the hall. “I’ll start wrapping them while you have a look. Oh, and my granddaughter’s here—she’s just upstairs. She might come down and give us a hand.”

Charles nodded, his throat suddenly dry. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face her again, not when her words from the night before still echoed in his mind.

He made his way to the sitting room, carefully examining the carved wooden figures of Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds spread out on the table. They were beautiful, each one intricately detailed and painted with care. He was just reaching for the angel when he heard the faint creak of footsteps descending the stairs.

And then she was there.

He turned, and the breath caught in his throat.

She wasn’t dressed for the weather at all—just a loose tank top that hung low on her shoulders and a pair of shorts that revealed long, bare legs. Her hair was mussed, as though she’d only just rolled out of bed, and a faint sheen of sleep still clung to her eyes. But even in her dishevelled state, she was radiant.

Her eyes lit up with recognition when she saw him, and a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. She leaned casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, the movement drawing his attention to her collarbones.

“Well, if it isn’t the choir boy,” she said, her voice low and teasing.

Charles felt his face heat immediately. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His mind had gone blank, the words tangled somewhere between his thoughts and his tongue.

Her smirk deepened, and she took a step closer, tilting her head as she studied him. “You’re blushing,” she said, a hint of delight in her tone. “What’s the matter, Charles? Cat got your tongue?”

He shook his head quickly, forcing himself to look away, back at the nativity figures. “I—I’m just here to help with the nativity,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm,” she murmured, leaning slightly over the table to inspect the figures as well. The movement brought her closer, and he caught the faint scent of her—a mix of something floral and the remnants of cigarette smoke.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” she said, picking up the angel and turning it over in her hands. “All these neat little pieces, everything in its place.”

“It’s just… careful work,” he managed, still unable to meet her gaze.

She set the angel back down and straightened, her expression softening just slightly. “Careful work,” she repeated, as though tasting the words. “You’re such a contradiction, Charles.”

He frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she smiled—a small, almost wistful smile—and shook her head. “Never mind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Before he could ask her to explain, Lady Carden appeared in the doorway, holding a box filled with straw for padding. “Thank you both for getting started,” she said brightly. “Charles, would you mind carrying this out to the car once we’re done?”

“Of course,” he replied quickly, grateful for the distraction.

But as he busied himself with the nativity figures, he couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes on him, or the lingering curve of her smirk as she leaned casually against the wall, watching him work.

Lady Carden bustled into the room, her cheeks slightly flushed. “You know,” she said, placing the last wrapped figure into the box, “I really ought to start dinner. Why don’t you drive the car to the church, darling?”

The suggestion was aimed at her granddaughter, who was still leaning lazily against the wall, one eyebrow arching at the proposal.

“Drive the car?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “What about choir boy here?” She tilted her head toward Charles with a sly smile.

“Charles has been kind enough to carry everything,” Lady Carden replied, smoothing her skirt and giving her a look that brooked no argument. “It’s the least you can do.”

Her granddaughter groaned, pushing off the wall. “Fine,” she muttered, dragging out the word. “But don’t blame me if I crash into a lamp post or something.”

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly capable,” Lady Carden said with a serene smile.

With a huff, she turned to Charles, her eyes glinting with a mix of defiance and amusement. “Guess you’re stuck with me, choir boy.”

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but before he could string together a coherent sentence, she disappeared up the stairs, her footsteps echoing faintly through the house.

He tried to focus on the nativity figures, carefully arranging the last few in the box, but his mind was elsewhere. The thought of being alone with her in a car, of the charged silences and her sharp, teasing remarks, made his pulse quicken.

Minutes later, her voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. “Ready when you are.”

Charles turned toward the staircase—and froze.

She was wearing a skirt, short enough to show just a hint of her thighs, paired with a tight-fitting top that accentuated every curve. Her hair was tousled, her eyes bright with mischief, and she moved with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly the effect she had.

“Something wrong, Charles?” she asked, her lips curving into that now-familiar smirk as she descended the stairs.

“No,” he said quickly, averting his eyes to the nativity box in front of him. But his face betrayed him, flushing crimson as he busied himself with adjusting the straw.

She stopped in front of him, reaching out to pluck a stray piece of hay from the box. “You’re blushing again,” she noted, her voice low and teasing.

“I’m not—” he started, but his voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat. “I’m not blushing,” he finished, though it sounded more like a plea than a statement.

She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Let’s get this over with, then.”

Lady Carden reappeared, oblivious to the tension thickening the air. “Thank you both so much,” she said warmly, clapping her hands together. “Drive safely, and don’t dawdle, dear. Dinner won’t cook itself.”

Her granddaughter rolled her eyes but said nothing, grabbing the car keys from the side table and tossing them into her bag.

Charles followed her to the door, his heart thudding in his chest. As they stepped out into the crisp winter air, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on the way the hem of her skirt swayed with each step.

He swallowed hard. This was going to be a long drive.

The car rattled softly as they drove through the winding country roads. The heater struggled to keep up with the winter chill, and the faint scent of pine from an old air freshener lingered in the air. She drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absently against the doorframe.

Charles sat stiffly in the passenger seat, the nativity box wedged securely between his feet. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, and he kept glancing her way, unsure whether he was more intrigued or unnerved by the nonchalant way she handled the car.

Without warning, she reached into her bag, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one with a practised flick of her lighter. The sharp scent of smoke filled the car, and she cracked the window to let the cold air swirl in.

Charles frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “Do you have to do that?”

She glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. “Do what?”

“Smoke. In the car.”

She took a drag, her lips curving around the cigarette before exhaling slowly. “Why? Does it bother you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice firmer than he’d intended. “It’s not good for you. Or me.”

For a moment, she looked like she might argue, but then she sighed and rolled the window down farther, flicking the cigarette out into the night. “Fine,” she said, her tone laced with mock exasperation. “Anything else you want to complain about, choir boy?”

He shook his head, looking out the window. “Thank you,” he muttered.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, the tension between them crackling like static. When they reached the church, she parked haphazardly near the entrance and leaned back in her seat, watching as Charles climbed out with the nativity box in his arms.

She stayed in the car, fiddling with the radio as he carried the pieces inside, arranging them carefully on the altar. When he returned, he hesitated at the open car door. “I can walk home from here,” he offered.

She snorted, leaning across the seat to look up at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Get in.”

He hesitated, then sighed and climbed back into the car. The door shut with a heavy thud, and she started the engine, pulling out onto the road without another word.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The low hum of the engine and the faint buzz of static from the radio filled the space between them.

“What does Christianity mean to you?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Charles blinked, startled by the question. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, glancing at him briefly before turning her attention back to the road. “What does it mean to you? All of it—God, Jesus, the prayers, the hymns. What’s it for?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. What did it mean to him? It wasn’t something he’d ever really thought about—not like this, not in the way her question demanded.

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smirked, her eyes flicking to him again. “You don’t know? You spend all this time praying and singing hymns, and you don’t even know what you’re praying to?”

Her tone wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was challenging, like she was daring him to dig deeper, to confront something he’d never questioned before.

“I—” He faltered, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I feel it. When I’m in the church, when I’m singing… I feel something.”

“Something,” she repeated, her voice sceptical yet not entirely dismissive.

“Yes,” he said, a little more firmly this time. “Something bigger than me. Something… good.”

She didn’t respond right away, and he didn’t notice that the car had stopped moving until the faint roar of the engine quieted.

When he looked up, they were parked by a lake, the water still and dark beneath the moonlight.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

She turned off the car and leaned back in her seat, her eyes fixed on the shimmering surface of the water. “You tell me, choir boy,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with mystery.

She stepped out of the car without a word, her boots crunching against the frosty gravel as she made her way toward the lake. A large rock jutted out near the shore, its surface smooth and pale under the moonlight. She climbed onto it with the kind of ease that spoke of familiarity, sitting cross-legged as the night wrapped around her.

Charles lingered by the car for a moment, watching her. The stillness of the lake seemed to mirror the confusion in his chest, the weight of her earlier question pressing heavily on his mind. Finally, he stepped forward, his shoes scuffing against the cold ground as he followed her.

She didn’t look up as he approached, but when he climbed onto the rock and sat beside her, she shifted slightly, making just enough space for him.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The lake stretched out before them, vast and quiet, its surface catching the faint glow of the stars. The crisp air smelled of damp earth and winter frost, and the only sound was the gentle lapping of water against the shore.

“I don’t really know what religion means to me,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was low, hesitant, as if the words themselves were fragile.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes catching the silver light of the moon. “Then why do you cling to it?”

He exhaled slowly, the cloud of his breath dissolving into the night. “Because it’s the only thing that’s ever stayed the same. My parents…” His voice wavered, and he glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. “They’re not… happy. They haven’t been for a long time. The fighting, the silence—it’s like living in a storm that never ends.”

Her gaze softened, but she didn’t interrupt, waiting for him to continue.

“When I’m at church,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s different. It’s quiet, but not the kind of quiet that feels heavy. It’s… safe. Like maybe there’s something out there that sees me. That cares.”

She was silent for a moment, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. Then she asked, her tone gentle but probing, “Do you really believe that? Or do you just need to believe it?”

Her question landed like a stone dropped into the still water. He blinked, startled, and turned to face her. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

She tilted her head, her hair catching the faint light. “Have you ever wondered what you’re actually praying to? Not the words, not the rituals. Just the feeling. That something you talked about.”

Charles hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I’ve always thought it was God.”

“Maybe it is,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a breath. “Or maybe it’s hope. Or love. Or the part of you that doesn’t want to give up.”

Her words settled over him like a blanket of mist, filling the empty spaces inside him that he hadn’t even known were there. He stared out at the lake, the reflection of the stars rippling across its surface, and tried to find an answer.

“I don’t know,” he said again, the frustration creeping into his voice. “I’ve never… I’ve never questioned it before.”

She leaned back slightly, propping herself up on her hands. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know everything right now.”

He turned to look at her, the moonlight catching the faint curve of her smile, and for a moment, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.

She glanced away, her eyes tracing the outline of the lake. “Sometimes, I think it’s less about finding answers and more about figuring out what questions you’re really asking.”

Charles let her words sink in, the stillness of the night pressing softly against him.

The stillness of the night wrapped around them like a cocoon, the faint rustling of the wind through the trees the only sound beyond their quiet breaths. Charles shifted slightly, glancing sideways at her. She was gazing out at the lake, her expression distant but calm, as if the vast expanse of water mirrored something inside her.

“Why don’t you believe?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a quiet weight.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let the question hang in the air, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the surface of the rock. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost bitter. “Feels pathetic to pray and not get listened to.”

Charles blinked, caught off guard by the rawness of her words. She pulled a cigarette from her jacket pocket and lit it with a practised flick of her lighter, the flame briefly illuminating her face. She took a long drag, the tip glowing like a tiny ember in the dark.

He hesitated, watching the smoke curl lazily into the air. “So… you seek your refuge in smoking?”

She smirked, exhaling a plume of smoke that caught the moonlight. “At least it doesn’t pretend to care.”

The words stung, but before he could respond, she turned toward him, the cigarette held delicately between her fingers. “Want one?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. That’s not… I don’t smoke.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug, but there was a faint glint of amusement in her eyes as she brought the cigarette back to her lips.

He tried to focus on the lake, on the cold night air biting at his skin, but he couldn’t ignore the warmth radiating from her, the faint, heady scent of the smoke mingling with her perfume.

And then he realised just how close she was.

Her shoulder was barely an inch from his, her breath warm as she exhaled again, the smoke curling between them. The world around them seemed to blur, the lake, the stars, the cold—all fading into the background as his awareness narrowed to her presence.

She tilted her head, her eyes catching his. In the dim light, they were dark and unreadable, like deep pools that threatened to pull him under.

“You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “Cat got your tongue?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as she leaned in. Slowly, deliberately, her gaze dropped to his lips and then back to his eyes, as if waiting for him to stop her.

He didn’t.

Her lips met his, soft and warm, and the sensation sent a jolt through him, like the first spark of a fire catching on dry kindling. The kiss deepened, her hand brushing lightly against his jaw as if to steady him, and he felt himself sinking into her, the world falling away entirely.

But then, as suddenly as it had begun, he pulled back, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“I’ve sinned,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling.

She stared at him for a moment, then let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh. “Sinned? Oh, come on, choir boy. It’s just a kiss.”

“To you, maybe,” he said, his cheeks flushed, his breath uneven. “But to me…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair as if trying to make sense of the chaos swirling inside him.

She tilted her head, studying him with an amused but not unkind expression. “Relax,” she said softly, leaning back slightly. “Your God’ll forgive you. Isn’t that his whole deal?”

Her words didn’t soothe him, but they didn’t anger him either. Instead, they left him even more confused, his mind spinning with questions he didn’t know how to answer.

The smoke lingered between them, faint and warm, as he stared at the lake, struggling to catch his breath.

Charles stared at the lake, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The weight of everything pressed down on him—the kiss, her words, the sudden chasm between what he thought he believed and what he felt now. His hands trembled slightly as he buried his face in them, his elbows braced on his knees.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” he said, his voice muffled, almost to himself. “Church, the hymns, the prayers… the rules. It was meant to make sense of everything. But now…”

She didn’t respond, didn’t press. She simply watched him, her gaze steady, the cigarette burning down between her fingers.

“What if none of it means anything?” he continued, his voice cracking. “What if it’s all just… rituals we do to distract ourselves from the silence? What if God’s just… nothing?”

The lake seemed to mirror his turmoil, its surface rippling faintly in the night breeze. He let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humour in it.

“I’ve built my whole life around this,” he said, lifting his head, his eyes bright with anguish. “Every prayer, every song, every confession—what was it for? To feel like this? Lost? Alone?”

Her lips curved into the faintest of smirks, though it lacked her usual sharpness. “Existential crises look good on you, choir boy.”

He shot her a look, but there was no real venom in it. If anything, her calmness grounded him, kept him from spiralling too far into the void opening up inside him.

After a moment, she exhaled softly, the smoke curling around her in the cold air. “Want me to take you home?”

He shook his head almost immediately, his voice hoarse. “No.”

Her brow arched slightly, but she didn’t press. Instead, she took another drag of her cigarette, the ember glowing faintly. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, almost tender. “I can take you back to my apartment if you want. No expectations. Just… somewhere to land.”

He hesitated, the war in his chest visible in the tense set of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed restlessly against his thighs. But then he nodded, barely perceptibly, and she smiled, just a little.

“Come on,” she said, stubbing out the cigarette on the rock before flicking it into the dirt. She stood and offered him a hand, and after a moment, he took it.

The drive back was silent, but it wasn’t the awkward silence of strangers or the heavy silence of unspoken words. It was the kind of silence that allowed space to breathe, to think, to unravel.

When they pulled up outside her place, she climbed out first, waiting for him by the door. He followed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were walking through a dream.

Inside, the air was warm and faintly scented with the lavender sachets she kept tucked into drawers. She flicked on a lamp, its soft glow casting long shadows across the walls, and motioned for him to sit.

He sank into the worn sofa, his head falling back against the cushions. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I don’t know who I am without it,” he said finally, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

She sat on the armrest beside him, her fingers idly brushing against the fabric of the sofa. “Maybe that’s the point,” she said softly. “You’re not supposed to know yet.”

He looked up at her, his expression raw, open. “What if there’s nothing? What if I let go and it’s just… empty?”

Her gaze softened, and she leaned down, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder. “Then you build something. Brick by brick, piece by piece. You don’t need a God to tell you who you are, Charles. You figure that out on your own.”

Her words echoed in his mind, sinking deep, unsettling and grounding all at once. He closed his eyes, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

And as the silence settled over them once more, it carried with it a weight he couldn’t quite define—a strange, aching liberation.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t pray.

And that terrified him.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[ataleofcrowns]

Chapter Progress [NOV/06]

Hey all, it's been a while since I've written one of these 🍂

I've been posting regular previews on my Patreon, but a proper update was long overdue! As a refresher, my last update was this one, and I've got lots more to update you on now that I'm further along!

I've struggled a lot with this chapter and have been trying to wrangle it into shape as best I can, and I'm happy (and relieved) to say that I can finally give you an estimated release date: you can expect CH12 to be uploaded in December this year.

I won't be putting a specific date on it yet, since it could be anywhere from early December to late December depending on how much progress I make in November, but I'll let you know! Now, onto specifics.

The Main Plot

I'm currently balancing out LI specific content in the main plot! Regardless of what you chose in regards to Kham and the peri trader, players will be spending some time with D and X to make up for their absence in CH10 at the beginning of this chapter, and I've really missed writing their dynamic with each other as well as the Crown.

I genuinely can't decide which branch is my favorite. Meeting with Kham directly gives so much juicy verbal sparring and tension between not only her and the Crown but her and D and X as well. But meeting directly with the peri trader let me dig more into the worldbuilding, explore the city a bit, and have some more lighthearted shenanigans with D and X too.

I'll add some previews here for both routes that I've also already shared for people on the Patreon. Here's a little excerpt for people meeting with Kham:

“There is one thing I have been wondering, princess,” you say as you stare back into her eyes, watching the way the orange orbs of light flicker like flames. “When you first arrived here, you were accompanied by a retinue of guards. Whatever happened to them?” Kham does not raise her brows at you, exactly, but something similar to the motion as the wood above her eyes arches upwards with a stiff creaking sound. “They are not merely my guards, they are my servants first and foremost. Naturally, they run errands for me.” “What kinds of errands?” “Surely you do not think I would fetch all I require by myself?” She appears amused by the line of questioning rather than offended. “They trade with the peri merchants in your city on my behalf. Although, calling it trade is perhaps not accurate, as I hold the right to lay claim on their supplies whenever I please. They are representatives of my mother, after all.” You consider the explanation, but nothing about it seems notable or inconsistent so far. “So you have never dealt with this peri trader I wish to meet with yourself?” “Of course not.” She smiles, her wooden mouth briefly pressing together. “That would be beneath me.” “A shame,” $xname muses casually from beside you, contrasting the sharp look in their eyes. “We had hoped you might have some insight to share.” “As much insight as you are willing to offer me regarding this flower you seek,” Kham returns, her smile still in place. “The blue siren, yes? A rather strange fixation…” You feel the urge to tense, but withhold yourself from it by taking a slow, relaxed breath. All the rigorous physical training you have underwent over the course of the past month is already showing its benefits: you feel more aware and in control over your body, able to maintain your composure. A necessary skill when dealing with someone like Kham, as conversing with her feels like a dance of sorts. The two of you are watching each other’s steps, waiting for the other to slip.

And here's the excerpt for if you choose to meet with the peri trader:

You manage to make it through the marketplace, finally arriving at a large building with an open front, wrapping around the corner of the street. Tables and shelves are lined with various flowers and plants, perused by a few passing customers. This appears to be the peri trader’s shop, signaled by the sign at the front that reads Eshkar’s Garden. Eshkar being the name of the peri trader in question. Most of the flora on display you recognize, if not by the labeled names then by sight alone, but several look entirely new to you. Pale white flowers whose hanging bulbs pulse with light when a customer brushes against its leaves; bleeding vines wrapped around a miniature roofed trellis atop a tall table, its crimson flowers slowly dripping down pink juice caught by bowls below; a tall flower with only two black petals, large and pointed, that nearly startle you when they snap together several times in sharp, cracking sounds, almost as if the flower were clapping. IF CROWN IS INTELLIGENT Momentarily forgetting about your intended purpose in being here, you approach the clapping flower with curiosity, wondering what set it off. Sure enough, you see dead and decomposing flies of various sorts collected at the center of its bulb as you lean over to peer inside, taking care to avoid leaning in too close lest your nose get caught between the aggressive petals. Does it catch and eat small insects? How fascinating. You glance at the labeling of the flower, its name fittingly given as ‘black ovation’. IF CROWN IS INTUITIVE Eyes drawn by the visual spectacle of the white flowers, you find yourself wandering over to its shelf, glancing at the labeling that reads ‘stardrops’. The bulbs look ordinary at first glance, but sure enough, when you reach out to touch its petals, the flower begins to glow like you saw before. A ring of light travels up its stem, through the petals to the very ends, where it erupts into tiny little golden sparks. Hence the name, you suppose. Unable to stop yourself, you touch the flower again, mesmerized by the light show, until you notice a shop attendee frowning at you from nearby. Feeling scolded, you quickly pull your hand away and offer an apologetic smile.

Lots of fun going on in both routes! I don't envy you for having to make this choice lol.

Aside from this big branch, the main plot will converge for everyone again in the latter half of the chapter, where the Crown gets do to some more typical Crown things: hearing public petitions! They'll contain 2 smaller scenes where your character will hear out some citizen concerns, which will let you rack up reputation points with either the public or the nobility, and 1 major scene that affects a future plot point.

Not gonna spoil these since I've already talked so much about everything else regarding this chapter, so this will have to remain a surprise ✨

The Romances and Friendships

While the start of the chapter is X and D focused, if you have a specific (platonic) LI you want to spend more time with as buddies and perhaps get a little relationship advice, you'll have that opportunity at the start of CH12! I've had to write 12 variations in total for each friendship scene, which was a lot of work, but completely worth it.

Some LI routes also have big additional differences depending on if you have a low or high romance (such as A and R), while it matters a little bit less for the others for the time being (such as D and X). So if you screwed up on D or X's romances and have a low status, you're mostly in the clear from immediate consequences… for now.

Here's a little excerpt, taken from a playthrough of a Crown who has a high romance with A and chooses R's friendship scene:

Something like mischief gleams in $rname’s eyes as $rthey looks at you. “I’ve noticed you and $aname seem especially close nowadays.” You shift a little on the couch, averting your gaze to avoid $rname’s eyes as you strike a casual tone. “Do we?” “Mhm.” When you do glance over at $rname, you find $rthem studying $rtheir nails, and you begin to relax as you think it was just an idle remark. Until $rthey adds, “All the hand-holding underneath the table is endearing, I must admit. Especially since the two of you seem to think you’re being subtle about it.” IF CROWN IS RESERVED Heat flushes up your neck at being seen through so easily, remembering breakfast earlier that morning where $aname’s fingers hooked around yours beneath the table. “We were just… we’re not…” $rname looks up from $rtheir nails to grin at you. “There’s no need to look so embarrassed! I’m happy for you. The two of you seem well-suited for each other.” Trying to move past your flustered state, you clear your throat. “You think so?” “I’ve never seen $aname so at ease as when you’re around,” $rname considers, eyes narrowing with teasing and fondness both. “You look more unburdened with $athem near, as well.” IF CROWN IS FLIRTATIOUS You almost laugh at the remark and give it away completely, only managing to keep it in at the last moment and grinning back at $rname instead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” $rname looks up from $rtheir nails with a sly smile. “No? What a shame. I was going to say how well-suited the two of you are for each other.” That catches your attention, your playfulness easing into something more sincere. “Really?” “I’ve never seen $aname so at ease as when you’re around,” $rname considers, eyes narrowing with teasing and fondness both. “You look more unburdened with $athem near, as well.”

This scene aside, CH12 will also contain another dedicated romance scene with your LI, dealing with some of the fallout from last chapter whether good or bad. If your romance is high, you'll be coasting- except maybe for D romancers, who are in Pining Hell either way haha.

If your romance is low, though, prepare for some delicious angst 🙏🏼

That's all I've got for now! Thank you all so much for your patience and support as always, especially for how long I've been making you all wait. You're the best 💖

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (2/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The first breakfast together is a good idea to get to know each other better. And to make the first arrangements. And to cheer each other up.

Warnings: google translated French, mention of "nice guys"

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: part two my loves! please tell me if you liked it!

Back when you went to school, you always woke up to the cooing of the pigeons that lived in the tree outside your childhood bedroom. They announced the new day, which was filled with learning, friends and fun. True, the time of your graduation had been incredibly exhausting, but in all the summers that followed, you woke up in the morning to the same sound and nostalgia felt like an old friend.

But now it's mid December. There are no birds outside whose chirping might wake you in the morning. And yet you've been lying awake in your bed for an hour.

All night you've been thinking. Charles apparently didn't try to break into the bedroom to kill you. You haven't heard any strange noises all night. But deep sleep was still out of the question with a complete stranger sleeping on the couch one room over. He did seem nice last night - after you had talked things out halfway - but the "nice guys" are also the worst in the end. 

After all, you had to experience that firsthand. 

Hands clasped behind your head, you stare at the white ceiling of your room. Your cell phone is lying next to your pillow. Some time ago, you lost it somewhere in your bedspread, and when you had to shake it out, the phone flew into the nearest wall. Since then it has its permanent place near your head.

A quick glance at it tells you that Charles will theoretically be asleep for just under two more hours - if you can believe him. Normally, you'd be getting ready for work right now and eating breakfast. Maybe you'd fry up some fried eggs or make some yogurt with berries. And then you'd go to work in peace.

Frustrated, you put your forearms over your face.

Right after you woke up, you googled for new job openings, but except for a new dog-sitter job posting, there doesn't seem to be anything new. Nothing at all. If the job were advertised with a reasonable salary that would allow you to continue financing your life in Monaco, you'd think twice about applying.

Finding a job that suits you, is fun, and pays a good salary is incredibly difficult. Almost impossible. When you were younger, you once saw a picture of a triangle on the internet. One corner said "friends," the second said "good grades," and the third said "sleep." The caption read "You can only choose two." That's exactly how job hunting feels.

You wouldn't tell Charles about it. Your unemployment, like his affairs, is private. If he asks, you'll simply say you're off because the company requires its employees to take vacation days in December. Doesn't sound convincing, but at least it doesn't completely suck.

Oh God, hopefully he won't ask.

As your stomach speaks up with an almost embarrassingly loud bubbling sound, you can no longer suppress your hunger. You slip out of bed and change from your sleep outfit - a big shirt and comfy sports shorts - into a pair of jeans and a comfy sweater before quietly turning the key in the door lock.

The rest of the apartment is silent. You sneak into the bathroom on your socks to brush your teeth and quickly comb your hair. As you slip on your shoes at the front door, you glance toward the couch to make sure you weren't dreaming last night.

The fact that a stranger is suddenly standing in your apartment, claiming that it is his apartment, sounds very far-fetched. And that he then spontaneously starts cooking sounds even more implausible. 

But you didn't imagine it. Charles is lying with his back turned to you between the pillows, the blanket tangled between his legs. He seems to be sound asleep, because when you open the apartment door, he doesn't move a bit. 

After taking a good look at the dog-sitting job this morning - two cute dachshunds, Hubert and Guenther - you had drawn up a chart of the things your new roommate and you would need to discuss.

Cleaning the apartment, for example. Since you'd still be staying in the bedroom, you'd obviously keep the room clean. Maybe you could also clear out a drawer in the dresser for Charles to put some of his things in, so he doesn't have to live out of a suitcase. But it's definitely too early for that. After all, you've only known each other since yesterday.

Although the morning has just begun, the sun is shining pleasantly warm as you walk to the nearest bakery. Having breakfast together definitely can't hurt if you plan to get to know each other better so that your shared apartment can function well. As long as Charles doesn't kill you and gets a little involved as far as organization goes, you'll be fine. Last night he already said that there are some things that need to be discussed today. And as long as the organization and in the end also the execution is not only dependent on you, the ship will probably not sink. 

Marie, the incredibly nice saleswoman who gives you a small, free piece of cake every Saturday, bags you two pain au chocolat and two croissants before you pay and she wishes you a nice day. While you don't know what Charles likes to eat for breakfast - if he eats breakfast at all - you're certainly not barking up the wrong tree with the pastries. Besides, breakfast isn't just about getting to know each other better and getting some structure, but you'd also like to apologize. For being willing to hit him over the head with the newspaper.

You quietly enter the apartment, only to find that Charles is already awake despite the time - 8:13 a.m. He's sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you close the door behind you. His brown hair is sticking up from his head, and he wearily runs a hand through his strands before looking at you.

"Bonjour." His voice seems to have dropped an octave since last night, and it's rougher than yesterday, too, which is probably due to waking up. His gaze moves from your face to the bags in your hand. "Petit déjeuner?" Breakfast. You nod. "Pour nous deux?" For both of us? Again, you nod. Charles closes his eyes briefly before rising from the couch. "Give me a moment. Be right back."

While he's in the bathroom, you put two plates on the dining room table and add everything that could be used for a good breakfast. You quickly rinse the dishes Charles put in the sink yesterday and put them away. 

When your new roommate rejoins you, he looks more awake. He sits down across from you at the table and reaches for a bag. As he grabs a croissant, he looks briefly surprised, but you're too distracted by the pillow print on his cheek to notice. 

"How did you sleep?" he asks as you take a bite of your pain au chocolat. 

You swallow. What are you supposed to answer him? That you slept fitfully all night, afraid he might be a murderer after all? Would be a great topic of conversation to start the day. 

"I don't know," you answer neutrally. Charles tilts his head. "I mean, it was kind of weird knowing that someone completely foreign was sleeping just one room over."

"I'll bet." His smile is faint, but genuine. Little dimples bore into his cheeks. "Maybe we should make sure we're not particularly strangers to each other then. After all, we'll be living here together for quite some time. And I'd hate to be responsible for you not getting a decent night's sleep."

"It's okay," you answer him. "I haven't slept properly in ages."

"I'm always told that a good night's sleep is important. That's why mine is sacred to me." He rubs his free hand over the dark stubble on his chin. "Besides, it's not healthy not to sleep soundly. From that point of view, it's worth a try to me. And I'd hate to be responsible for your poor sleep. 

Most of all, you'd like to tell him that while his presence unsettled you last night, he's not the reason you can't rest, or sleep through the night. That he's not responsible for you falling asleep late and waking up early. But you don't. Because it's none of his business.

"While we're on the subject -" you put your pain au chocolat on the plate in front of you, "why are you up already? Did I wake you up? I swear I was trying to be really quiet, but -"

"I got a call," he says curtly. "Until you were standing in the doorway, I didn't even know you were gone. So, everything's cool." The smile is gone from his face. Apparently, his caller is just as popular as the one you pushed away last night. Or maybe he's just tired.

Since it's none of your business, you try to distract him. "So, Charles. How about it? What else is in you besides being able to cook? What do I need to know about you?"

Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc turned twenty-five in October, born and raised in Monaco. He has two brothers, one of whom is older than him and the other younger. He speaks English, French and Italian and does a lot of sports. He likes to eat pasta, but his nutritionist - who the heck has a nutritionist? Someone who can afford to have a second home in Monaco, of course - always advises him against it. 

He also travels a lot for work reasons. On his cell phone he has a lot of photos that he has taken in different countries and to be honest, you are already a little envious. Except for your home country and Monaco, you've never been anywhere else. What would you give to be able to travel so much? A dream that will probably remain denied to you, if your bank balance is to be trusted.

Some of the photos, he confesses, were taken by Joris - your Joris. You knew Joris was also a photographer by trade, and judging from the pictures, he's incredibly good at what he does. Apparently, the two of them travel together more often. Either the two are best friends or Joris is Charles' personal photographer. Or both. 

He won't tell you exactly what the Monegasque does for a living, though. "Something with cars," is his answer, and since you have relatively little idea about it, it's quite enough for you. He tells you a lot about himself, and you secretly hope that the information he gets from you will be enough for him, and that he will please not ask about your job.

But there you are mistaken.

"So what do you do for a living?"

The pastries are eaten so you crumple up the bags and throw them in the trash can. You stand up, and as you turn your back on Charles, your face contorts briefly. "I'm a photographer."

You hear Charles rise from his chair as well, stacking the plates. You barely noticeably flinch as he suddenly stands next to you. "And who do you work for?" He places the plates in the empty sink, grabs the sponge and detergent, and begins washing the dishes.

"For a small magazine, nothing wild," you reply curtly, drying the clean plate Charles holds out to you with his foam soaked fingers. It clanks as you put it in the cupboard with the others. 

"For that one?" He points with a nod to the magazine lying on the small coffee table. Of course, it's the one you threatened him with yesterday. A wide grin spreads across his face as you roll your eyes. 

"Sorry," you apologize, but are secretly glad for the opportunity to change the subject. "What would you do if someone strange suddenly showed up at your apartment?"

"I'd probably threaten to call the police." You don't know how that's possible, but his grin gets even wider and his dimples even deeper.

You have to grin. "Ah, so we're joking about that now? That I was standing there all scared, armed only with a magazine?"

Charles' gaze is amused, but gentle. The green in his eyes sparkles as he looks at you. "Just wrapped in a towel, not to mention. But I'm sure you would have kicked my ass."

Charles stows his bedding in the hall closet while you wipe down the table to clean up the last remnants of your first breakfast together. After fluffing the couch cushions, he sits down and pulls his laptop from his backpack. Stretching out his legs, he gestures for you to join him. 

"So," he begins as you sit down at the other end of the couch. You pull your knees to your chest as he waits for you to get comfortable. There are only a few inches between your feet. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I've been thinking about all the things that come up when you have a roommate." He looks up from his laptop for a moment. "Well, actually, I was just Googling."

You're pleasantly surprised that he actually thought about it. And apparently, not just a bit. He's even created an Excel spreadsheet, with weekly plans, tasks, and a financial overview, as far as grocery shopping goes. He included every little detail in his lists. 

Very dedicated, the young man in front of you. 

"We're summarizing." Charles stretches out his arms and folds his hands behind his head. You've spent an hour talking everything out, going over several possibilities, and finally you've come to a common denominator.

"Since you live in the bedroom, it's also your job to keep the room clean." That was the easiest point. "And that's why it's up to me to clean the living room. The bathroom gets cleaned weekly, on a rotating basis. Since you just cleaned it recently, it's my turn next week."

You come to an agreement that you will buy groceries from the money in the joint household fund - a small cookie jar where you actually stored sewing supplies - and he will cook instead. Since you're more of a frozen pizza kind of person and his nutritionist sends him a weekly meal plan, Charles also wants to put more money into the household fund. The fact that you benefit from both the meal plan and his generosity doesn't seem to bother him.

"That settles the organizational stuff," he finishes, setting his laptop aside. "But we should establish other rules. For the interpersonal stuff."

You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow. "Interpersonal?"

"Yup." He stretches again, and his white shirt slides up a little so you can see a strip of skin from his belly. You quickly look away. "Communication and stuff. So if something's bothering you, please tell me." Charles crosses his arms in front of his chest, his shirt straining over his biceps. "I don't feel like having to ask five times to get you to finally come clean. My patience is definitely too thin for that."

Understandable. Your patience is not quite that thin, but when someone doesn't speak up and then acts passive-aggressively, that's a no-go for you, too. 

"Open communication. Got it." You cross your arms in front of your chest as well. "But then please give me a heads up if you're bringing someone home with you. I don't want to come home at some point and be left in just a towel again. And if you do bring girls, I'll stay the night somewhere else." With his looks, you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have at least five women wrapped around his little finger. Maybe you're crossing a line with the request, but if this whole thing is going to work out, it should be cleared up.

The smile that just now had a firm place on his face disappears. "Don't worry. It's not going to happen."

Apparently you have crossed a line, or rather hit a sore spot. All of a sudden Charles seems tense, the relaxed atmosphere seems to be lost and you would love to take it all back and apologize, but your roommate is faster.

"I don't think we need to talk about privacy. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with. If someone wants to talk about it voluntarily, that's fine, but no one is being pressured into anything here." You nod silently. "And I think honesty is important. I experience so much dishonesty in my job and it makes life so much more difficult and stressful. Just be honest with me, no matter what, and I promise I'll be honest with you, too. No matter what it's about."

The topic of unemployment pops into your head, but disappears again as Charles scoots closer to you on the couch and sits up straight. "We'll work it out. As long as you promise not to murder me in my sleep. After all, I don't have the option of locking myself in a room." His smile has returned to his face. It's faint, but at least it's there. 

"You caught that?" you ask, biting your lower lip.

"Like I said, the walls aren't very thick. But I don't blame you." He winks at you. "But I hope I'm not a complete stranger to you now."

He's actually not. True, you haven't talked about much personal stuff yet, but that's sure to come with time. Or maybe it won't. Sharing an apartment doesn't necessarily mean you'll become best friends. And that would be fine, too.

"I'll think twice about locking the door tonight," you quip, and his smile widens. It's so infectious that you follow suit.

"All right. I think we can work this out. I haven't drawn up a roommate agreement now, but we're both adults. We'll stick to the agreements and if one of us thinks of anything else, we'll talk it over and work it out." He holds out his hand for you to shake. "Deal?"

You hold out your hand as well, but before you can shake his, the cell phone in your pocket rings. You pull it out and when you see who's calling you, your smile vanishes in a millisecond.

Why is he calling you? Hasn't he humiliated you enough? Embarrassed you? Made you the joke of your - former - friend group? What does he want from you now?

You press the call away and, frustrated, toss the cell phone between you on the couch and rub your hands over your face. You don't notice that Charles has caught on to the situation until he speaks up.

"Are you busy now?" As you look at him, he's still smiling, but a little softer. His smile doesn't reach his ears now, but the green in his eyes gleams nonetheless. 

You exhale loudly. You're out of a job. What could you possibly be up to? "No. Why?"

Charles gets up from the couch. "Then let's do something. I know a really good lookout point. You can see all of Monaco from there."

Whether he actually feels like doing something with you, or is suggesting it out of pity, you don't know. But maybe Charles deserves a little benefit of the doubt. And you definitely don't feel like sitting around on the couch waiting for anything to happen.

"Come on, Y/N," he tries to coax you out of your shell.

"Are you going to take me to a secluded place to kill me? Or are you really going to show me a nice lookout point?" You stand up so that you are facing each other. You have to tilt your head back a little to look him in the eyes.

Charles looks down at you. "Do you really think I'd kill you now, after we've spent ages discussing our shared apartment? Wouldn't that be wasted energy?" He rolls his eyes playfully. "Give yourself a break."

"Fine," you reply to him. You raise your hand and point your index finger at him. "But if that lookout isn't the most beautiful I've ever seen, I may kill you."

Charles laughs. He almost closes his eyes at that. The sound is so heartfelt you have to grin.

"Deal."

next part

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Thirteen: Pregnant @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3

just fluff. wasn't really wanting to post but here we are

.*.*.*.*.

Morning Light

Winter hung low over the city one early morning in December.  The gray clouds were impenetrable, even to the brightness of the sun, leaving the world in a pale gray haze.  Ever since October, the weather had taken a turn.  It left everyone in a violent desperation for warmth.  Instead, Terrasen was gifted freezing rain, cold wind, and darkened skies.  Everything had transformed in the span of a few weeks leaving Aelin desperate for summer.

She’d always preferred those warm months with the bright sun, blue skies, and warm air.  Summer was when everything felt alive and real.  Now, as she stared out the from window and at the trees that surrounded the house, the world simply felt bare.

It was strange considering most of the trees in the forest were evergreen and there was only the occasional alder and maple stripped bare to empty branches.  And the foliage was still rich and vibrant.  Not even the freezing weather could kill the sword fern or blackberry bush.

Still…the world felt different now.

She raised her mug of hot chocolate to her lips taking a long sip.  Most of it was still whipped cream.  She fully believed that if a mug wasn’t at least half full of either marshmallow or cream, it wasn’t hot chocolate.  The sweet drink seeped through her body, warming the near perpetual chill that had been settled in her bones since September.

Through the window she watched a red breasted robin land in the bird feeder, plucking away at the seed she’d refilled yesterday.  It didn’t seem bothered by the chill.  Or maybe instinct had driven it from its nest.

She took another sip of cocoa.

Upstairs she listened as the bedroom door opened and a pair of soft feet descended the stairs.  She didn’t turn, waiting for the inevitable feel of her husband coming up behind her.  In a matter of moments, she was wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re up early,” Rowan said, his voice rough with sleep as he nestled his nose into the juncture of her neck.

Aelin smiled, enjoying the feel of him against her. “I had to pee.”

A chuckle rippled through Rowan’s chest.  He pressed his lips to her skin, kissing and nipping a small love bite there.  One of his hands stretched out over her stomach.

“Is the little firefly causing grief again?” he teased.

“Always,” Aelin said.  Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.  She couldn’t help it these days.  Ever since learning she was pregnant; she’d been so damned emotional.  Every little thing set her off.  If it wasn’t Rowan’s gentleness it was the dog giving her morning kisses.  And if it wasn’t either of those things it was eating a warm piece of toast.  She couldn’t even go to Wal-Mart in case she accidently walked past the baby department and saw little baby slippers for sale.

She pressed a hand to his, keeping it rooted on her barely swelling belly.  She was only about three months along and would honestly say that she was still in shock over the whole thing.  After five years of marriage, she and Rowan had been slowly moving on from actively trying to grow their family.  They’d seen doctors and even done a few hormonal treatments to try and help things along.  But with money being tight anything more was outside of their budget.  They’d been told it would just take time (some doctors even saying there was nothing to do).

In short, they’d given up hope.

“Please tell me you already ate something?” Rowan asked. “Hot chocolate isn’t real food.”

“It’s what the baby wants,” Aelin insisted.  “You know I can’t keep anything down.”

It was true.  Everything she even looked at made her queasy.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full meal.

“What about waffles?” Rowan insisted.  He pulled back enough to turn Aelin in his arms so he could kneel down and press a kiss to her belly. “What do you think, Firefly?”

“You know he’s not going to start moving for another three weeks, right?” Aelin rolled her eyes, though still endeared at her husband’s antics.

“It’s a girl,” Rowan replied swiftly.  He kissed her belly one more time before standing, taking the hot chocolate from her. “And baby agrees with me.  Waffles are in order.”

It was a common argument of if they were having a boy or a girl.  Neither was planning on yielding anytime soon.

“With strawberries,” Aelin conceded.  It was the one fruit that she could stomach.

“Absolutely.”

Aelin let her husband lead her to the kitchen and sat at the table while he insisted on bustling around to get breakfast in order.  He even made her more hot chocolate without her even having to ask.

It was a simple Saturday morning, but she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

[luvfy0dor]

Fyodor & Nikolai (separate) practicing their vows with fem!reader? I doubt with their lives they’d ever be able to marry, but I thought it’d be cute!!

“I Take This Magnetic Force of a Man to be My Lover ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warning; u might wanna marry me when u see the vows I wrote for this, infinite charisma, established relationship beginnings, Nikolais isn't proofread

Description; Practicing your wedding vows ♡⁠˖

A/n; I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THIS I WAS GIGGLING AND JUMPIN ARIUND I HOPE ITS ALRIGHT!!!! THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST ❤️❤️❤️

Fyodor Dostoevsky★

You stood in your kitchen, scribbling down the last of your vows down, hoping to have just created the final product for your wedding. Your fiance stood in front of you, his own cards readied in his hands. "Are you finally finished, Myshka?" He smiles and grabs your hand, guiding you closer to him. You sigh and nod, putting on a smile of your own. "Yeah, but don't make fun of me or anything." You say playfully, standing up straight and squeezing his hand. You open your mouth to begin reading, but you can't force anything out in embarrassment. "Ugh, you can't look at me~." You say, trying to keep yourself from giggling as you cover your mouth with your note cards. He rubs your knuckles with his thumb and chuckles. "I'm not going to laugh at you. Goodness, you're going to be helpless during the real thing, aren't you?" He teases. "I'll go first if you'd like." He offers, to which you nod exasperatedly. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

The dark-haired man clears his throat, giving your hand another brief squeeze before starting. "Y/n, you have been here with me through my toughest moments, always at my side to support me and give me that extra push towards success. Your unconditional love has greatly effected me in the sense that it has given me motivation. With you, I'm sure I can do anything, whether I am poor or rich, dying or thriving." You couldn't help but give a down-turned smile at his sweet words. It didn't matter how many times you heard them, considering this was the third time you were practicing. They always had the same, butterfly-inducing effect on you. "When we met on December 23rd at the cafe you were working at and you miss pronounced my name because of stress from the holiday rush, you mispronounced it in a way I had never even thought of before. Instead of feeling annoyance with your naivety, I laughed. I knew I had to go back. I wanted to see how many teas I would have to order for you to get it right. While I became a regular in your workplace, you became a regular in my mind, visiting atleast hourly. Now, you're most of my thoughts, and I couldn't be happier. In exchange for the happiness, motivation, love, and everything else you have bestowed upon me, I promise to give you the same, ideally ten fold." You stared with your mouth slightly agape, still flustered from his vows.

You gently flailed your arms. "How am I supposed to beat that?!" You laughed. He sighed in amusement, a toothy grin on his face. "I don't know. Good thing it's not a competition, myshka." You rolled your eyes and organized your cards, nervously flicking the corners of the cardstock. "Okay, uhm..." He set his cards down and placed his hand on your hip, rubbing it soothingly. "F-Fyodor, uhm, I used to hate tea. Before I met you, the smell of it made want to wear a clothespin on my nose to work everyday. Coffee was my preferred beverage." You mutter. "Speak a little louder and clearer, darling." He says, cupping your cheek. You nod and draw your lips into a tight line. "But every single day, you'd come in and order one. Earl Grey was your thing, and since it was the only job I could find at the time, I would make it for you, every single day. Eventually, I became fond of the scent because it reminded me of you. Of your pretty smile, soft voice, and calming aura. You broadened my horizons, from hating something, to being so fond of it that my mornings feel off if I'm not making a cup for you. I see that as a positive. You've changed me as a person for the better, and I promise to pay you back for all the positives you've given me. I love you more than anything, and I love the me that I've become because of you. I've really never been happier." You do your best not to stumble over your words. He stares at you with soft eyes and a matching smile, his cheeks dusted a rosy pink. "See, that wasn't bad at all."

You smile sheepishly and lean in to him, slightly embarrassed. "It wasn't too cheesy, was it?" You ask him, resting your head against his chest and hearing his heart beat at a steady pace. "Maybe a little, but isn't that the point?" He kisses the top of your head affectionately. "I am craving tea now, though." He turns his head towards the kitchen in longing. You push yourself back up to your feet and pull away from him, heading over to make him his drink. "I already made you a cup this morning." You groan with faux annoyance, making him chuckle quietly. "What's one more then?" He follows you into the kitchen, keeping a hand on your hip for the short duration of the walk, his gaze lingering on you as long as possible. You really were perfect, and he definitely picked the right person to marry. Even if you stumbled over your vows. It made you you.

Nikolai Gogol ★

Nikolai laid his head in your lap while he recited his vows from memory, having them down nearly perfect. Nikolai had a good memory when he wanted to, and he was putting it to good use in this moment. "-and I'm so grateful that I'm the one who gets to see your gorgeous smile an make you laugh every day." He finishes off and tilts his head to look directly at you. "How was that? Great, right? If it were up to me, we'd be at the alter right now." He smiles and closes his eyes with a sigh, imagining the sight of you both in white. You hum in the affirmative. "Yup, amazing as always, Kolya. Have you just read it so many times that you've already memorized it all? Or do you have little flashcards that you use to practice when I'm not around?" You tease.

He shakes his head and grins. "Nope, I'm just that good, my love." He reaches up and cups your cheek. "When was the last time you read yours?" He asks you. You hesitantly wince and suck in a sharp breath of air. "Uhhhh...a week ago?" He immediately sits up. "Are you able to recite them from memory right now?" He asks inquisitively. You shake your head sheepishly before he grabs you by the hand and pulls you off the couch. "Oh, that won't do, dove! Come, where'd you put the written version?" He asks. You think for a moment before pointing to the 'junk drawer' in your kitchen. "In there." His eyes widen and he places a hand over his heart. "In the junk drawer? I'm almost offended." He pulls it open and rummages around, searching for the piece of paper you tore from a legal pad to write your vows on. You also looked, watching over his shoulder before you spotted it, reaching under his arm and yanking it out of the clutter.

You straighten out the paper dramatically and read over the first few lines, refreshing your memory. You then clear your throat and begin to speak. "Nikolai- ever since we've gotten together, I feel as though you've reformed me. Your free spirit and good humor has really opened me up as a person and a partner. I used to be uptight and cold, but now I melt inside from something as simple as your smile." You take another glimpse at the paper. "I really do think that even with all your wrongdoings- to put it lightly- that you are the best person that could have ever fallen into my life." Nikolai smiles proudly, twirling his hair around his pointer finger. "Wow, what a way with words you have!" He giggles. "Continue." He says. You stared at him blankly.

"Kolya, that's all I got." You tell, watching his brows knit together. "What? No it's not, you had more every other time you practiced." He lets go of his hair. "That was all improv that I never wrote down." You murmur. There's a silence before you both start giggling. "You're so irresponsible! Come on, write something else down, we're going to keep going until you have it down perfectly!" He says and places a ballpoint pen in your hand. "Alright, Kolya." You playfully huff while grinning and starting to write. You never would have thought that Nikolai would take vows this seriously, but you suppose his desire and fondness for words of affection make it all check out. So there you sat for about another hour, until Nikolai finally felt that you had it all down well enough for the evening, but eventually he rewarded you with a whole bunch of kisses and tips on how to make your writing sound less repetitive, so you'd consider it worth it.

A/n; CHAT ON TUESDAY I SAW BLINK-182 W PTV AND I WAS LITERALLY FOUR ROWS BEHIND THE PIT OMG IT WAS SO AMAZING I CANT BELIEVE I DIDNT CRY DURING STGFTK CUZ I RESONATE W THAT SONG SO BAD BRO BUT IT WAS AMAZINGGGGG OMG

[wonnieluv]

Can I Be Him? - Jay x reader

Summary: After meeting Jay by chance one day before leaving home for Christmas, you can’t get him out of your mind. After texting him while you were home, you’ve finally returned to Seattle just before the New Years. Who knows what will happen next between the two of you

Warnings: none!

This is the pt. 2 to I Met You In The Dark… You Lit Me Up. Read pt. 1 here!

masterlist

December 30th, 2024 — Ever since that rainy Wednesday night 2 weeks ago, Jay has somehow found a way to occupy almost every corner of your brain.

It started with a text from him on Christmas day. At that point you had almost assumed that he had forgotten about you and moved on with his life, but you couldn't have been more wrong.

☔︎ ☔︎ ☔︎

December 25th 2024 —

Your heart skipped a beat when you checked your phone after you and your family finished opening presents when the name Jay flashed across your screen. His sweet Christmas message being the first you’ve heard of him since that evening a week prior.

Ever since that message, the two of you talked nearly everyday. You told him about whatever you were up to oh your family, he told you about some songs he was planning to sing at the cafe. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling that bloomed as he messaged you. You began to get to know him even more, finding out he has some friends that love to go finishing when the weather permits, he enjoys spending his free time strumming on his guitar, he’s really close to his father and his father is super supportive of his pursuit of music outside the family business, he looks AMAZING in the color brown (you did some insta stalking to figure that one out). It didn’t take long for you to begin to develop some sort of feeling for him. Now, all of your relationship, besides that night, has been based on the texts you two have exchanged while you were clear across the country, but everything that led up to this moment made you want to see him even more and lucky for you, that day may be coming soon…

☔︎ ☔︎ ☔︎

December 29th 2024 —

You squeal into your blankets as you reread your conversation.

I have a date… for New Years… oh my god

☔︎ ☔︎ ☔︎

December 31st, 2024 — you stare out the window of the airplane as you see the now familiar outline of Seattle come into your view.

Ever since Jay asked you out you haven’t been able to think of anything else. You didn’t think it would be possible for him to occupy ur mind as much as he had already but you were shown that it was in fact possible.

As you grab your luggage you eagerly exit the terminal and get in your cab. Your plan is to get home, unpack, eat lunch, PANIC, and then get ready. Maybe panic some more if there’s time in between.

The thought that it’s been 2 weeks since you let this man and he’s got you all giddy like you’re in high school again almost worried you but, what the hell it’s literally New Year’s Eve! You may as well let yourself have fun!

With that mindset you continue to go about your day. Unpacking and relaxing from the traveling you did this morning and getting ready for this evening. Before you know it, 7pm is approaching fast and you’re doing your last minute touch ups before you put your shoes on.

At 6:59 you’re waiting for the elevator when your phone buzzes in your purse.

With the acknowledgment that you’ll be seeing him again momentarily, your heart immediately picks up its pace as you impatiently watch the floors tick down in the elevator.

As you step out you immediately walk towards the front door where you see Jay waiting looking as mesmerizing as ever.

Based on the messages the two of you had exchanged to confirm your plans, you knew he’d be taking you somewhere nice as you had dressed accordingly but the sight of him standing outside your apartment with a small bouquet in a black button up paired with black dress pants and some nice shoes made your knees want to buckle mid step. He look AMAZING

You were so caught up blatantly staring at him that you failed to notice the slight drop of his jaw as his eyes raked over your figure. What could he do? You looked HOT

“You look stunning, Y/N” he says as you finally reach him. He can’t contain the smile that paints his handsome features as he extends the bouquet out to you.

“You don’t look to bad yourself” you respond with a shy smile as you take in the scent of the flowers. “These are beautiful Jay”

“I’m glad you like them… I had my mom help me pick them out” he says sheepishly as he scratches the back of his neck as a faint blush creeps up.

You immediately soften at the thought of him asking his mother for help with picking the flowers. “I think the both of you did an amazing job” you lean up and slightly rise onto your toes to give him a peck on the cheek.

The faint blush on his neck and cheeks become a bit more noticeable as he tries to not get too flustered by your actions. “Shall we… get going?” He says with a shy smile holding out his arm to you. You nod with a smile hooking your arm with his as he leads you to his car.

The car ride wasn’t overly filled with chatter but it was just enough. Jays playlist playing softly in the background as you gazed out the window. You two conversed about some pretty mundane things but you didn’t mind. He asked you how your travels went this morning and you asked him about what he’d been up to today.

Your comfortable small talk made the time fly by and before you knew it you were outside of a nice Italian place by the water and Jay was at your door helping you out of the car.

The restaurant had a nice intimate setting with dim overhead lighting and candles on every table. It felt very romantic with the live band playing on the small stage on the corner. As you’re led to your seats, Jays hand holds yours while you walk through the restaurant not letting go until you have reached your table.

“How did you find this place” you ask him as you look around in awe. You haven’t lived in Seattle long at all, but you would’ve loved to have known about this place sooner.

“My dad brought my mom here on their first date, so I felt it would be good luck to bring you here” he says as he gazes at you softly. “The food is also pretty good I guess.” He says in a light tone.

You chuckle at his light joke. “You really care for you parents huh?” You say almost in awe at the mention of his parents. You can tell they mean a lot to him and the fact that he seems so close to them is definitely an attractive point.

“I owe them everything you know? I wouldn’t trade them for the world” he says with a fond smile “so when I have a hard time with something I normally turn to them for advice.”

“Was deciding flowers difficult” you say in a joking tone at his response.

“Well when I have a date with the most beautiful girl and I don’t know where to take her, it’s a pretty big problem. I gotta impress her don’t I?”

“I think she’s impressed” you say as you almost have to bite back a smile. You can already tell your cheeks are going to be hurting from how hard you’re going to be smiling tonight.

☔︎ ☔︎ ☔︎

Needless to say the dinner was nothing short of perfect. The food was incredible, Jay is incredible. Everything feels too good to be true.

At the moment the two of you are walking in an unpopulated park. It’s up on a hill with the most beautiful view of the city. The two of you walk hand-in-hand down the path taking in the atmosphere. you come to a bench that looks straight out at the water and you sit comfortably with your head on Jays shoulder, still holding his hand.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry, I left something in the car. I’ll be right back I promise it’ll only be 5 minutes!” He says hurriedly

“It’s okay I’ll be waiting” you say with a smile. With your reassurance he immediately bolts back along to the path to the car.

Now sitting in silence you take a deep breath in. You almost feel like this is the moment you wake up from your dreams and come back to the reality of the fact that you are painfully single once again on New Years. You lean back on the bench as you look up at the night sky hoping to savor this feeling when all of the sudden you hear a rustling behind you.

You snap up at the noise immediately looking behind. You know you aren’t too worried and Jay will be back any moment, but it is a dark park and there is virtually nobody around at the moment.

“Keep quiet you idiot” you hear a whisper come from behind the bushes

“ow! don’t hit me” you hear another voice one from a similar direction.

“shhh you idiot, she’s gonna see us”

At this point you’re a bit worried. You know these voices are talking about you because there’s nobody else around. You look back in the direction Jay came from and have yet to see him return down the path. You stand up and back away from the bench a little in case you need to run away. But before you have the chance to think about it, you hear a guitar softly coming from down the path.

Your head snaps in the direction the music is coming from and the next thing you see is Jay with his guitar around his neck as he begins to song

You walked into the room and now my heart’s been stolen

You took me back in time to when I was unbroken

He begins to approach you slowly as he continue to sing the songs.

Now you’re all I want, and I knew it from the very first moment

He looks deeply into your eyes only straying to glance down at his guitar

Wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips, it’s all I’ve been thinking about

As the song continues you can’t think of anything other than him in that moment.

Cause a light came on, when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again,

He sings the words so deeply, so passionately. Seeing him sing for you and only you brings you back to the first time you heard him perform in that small cafe. The way his gaze pierced yours, the way he made your heart beat out of your chest. It’s all the same now, except 100x stronger

When the lights come on, and I’m on my own will you be there, to sing it again?

The tears begin to pool in your eyes as you stand so close to him. The only thing holding you back from embracing him in that moment is the guitar that he’s playing.

Can I be the one you talk about in all your stories?

Can I Be Him?

He steps even closer until he’s as close as he possibly can be

Can I Be Him?

His voice drowning out your surroundings to the point you don’t notice the sound of figures appearing from the bushes they were previously hiding in

Can I Be Him?

As he finishes the last line he strums the last chord on his guitar he adjusts it to sit on his back as he moves closer to you pressing his forehead against yours.

“Y/N… will you let me be yours?” He asks you softly

“Yes Jay… of course yes!” You say through your tears. At your response he pulls you into a tender kiss overcome with happiness.

It was a scene from a cheesy rom com movie. The two of you sharing a sweet kiss as the fireworks begin to go off behind you. You pay no mind too engrossed in the boy in front of you at the moment. What does snap you out of it is the being flash from behind.

“Riki you dumbass I told you to tune the flash off!” You hear as you immediately snap away from Jay turning to see the sheepish smiles of 6 boys holding a variety of party poppers, champagne, sparklers, a cake, and whatever other festive stuff the probably found at Party City.

Your initial shock fades as you hear Jay groan “seriously guys…” he turns to you “when I told them I was gonna ask you out they insisted they should be apart of it because I was ditching them on New Years Eve”

You slap his shoulder in disbelief “you told me you had no plans!”

“What! C’mon man we hang every year” you hear one of the boys exclaim in response to your disbelief

“Oh shut up Jake! Ur just jealous because ur single”

“Oooooooooo he got you” you hear one of the other slap the boy you assume to be Jake on the shoulder

“Whatever man can he just cut the cake” he says

You chuckle looking up at Jay “shall we?”

He pecks ur lips “we shall”

“Yall can be PDA later I don’t wanna barf up my first meal of 2025” one of them whines out causing everyone the laugh in response

☔︎ ☔︎ ☔︎

As the 8 of you say on the grass in the park for a little while with respect to the fact that you did have to work the next day.

You learned the group had all met in college and became inseparable since and were basically brothers. Jay met Heeseung first at his orientation as he showed him around campus and they bonded over their love for music. Sunghoon is the same age and they were roommates freshman year. They met Sunoo joined them after having a group project with Sunghoon a year later and he brought Jungwon into the group the year after that. Jake joined after coming to their school as an international student who had been able to get a job in the city and extend his visa. Riki joined not too long after because he was in the same dance team as Jungwon and would play basketball with Jake sometimes in pickup games on the weekends.

The 7 boys, in just one evening, added so much laughter back into your life. Things had been so lonely for you since moving and meeting Jay had made a bigger impact on your life than you could have ever imagined. Sitting in the park leaning back against his chest feeling of vibrate with his laughter as they reminisced on their year made you feel so complete. You finally felt you could make a home for yourself here with your new found friends (and boyfriend *cough cough*).

You returned to your apartment hand-in-hand with Jay as he made sure you made it in the building safely just like the first time.

“I’m sorry the others kinda busted into our moment” he says sheepishly as the two of you arrive

You shake your head “please don’t apologize. It made me so happy to meet them.” You smile at him

Hearing that you can see the light in his eyes knowing you liked his friends. “I think they liked meeting you too” he says with a chuckle.

“I’m glad” you step forward and hug him “thank you Jay…” you say softly into his neck

“I should be thanking you angel…” you responds as he strokes your hair.

You pull back locking eyes with him you move forward and give him a kiss before stepping back “I should probably go in now” you say still locking eyes with him. Despite your words you make no effort to move any farther away

“Yea you should” he says also not moving from his spot

The two of you basking the silence of the eye contact the two of you are holding

“Jay…?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to come up for a drink” you offer hesitantly

“Is that a good idea angel? You need to work in the morning” he asks genuinely not wanting to get in the way of your sleep

You nod taking his hand and pulling towards the doors to your apartment complex.

Needless to say those drinks led to you two talking on your couch until the sun came up and you fell asleep in his arms on the sofa (not before calling in sick from work)

You’ve never thanked yourself more for stepping out of your usual routine and heading to that cafe that one Wednesday night and you slept with ease feeling safe knowing the man holding you would continue to offset your life in the best way possible with nothing more than his honey voice, caramel eyes, and charming smile that caused you to fall head over heels for him.

I’ve loved writing both parts of this and I really hoped you all enjoyed them!

@chlorophylliaa @ikeuluvr

[ultragift]

FROM: @elpisnyx

TOO: @nyanderthal16

If Gabriel was told months prior to this, that he’d be snuggled on a couch with his arch-nemesis on the remnants of a cold, dead Earth, he would’ve thought it as an insult. Yet here he was. Warm metal arms held Gabriel in as much of a loving embrace as they could, careful to not pinch or harm him. Nestled on his chest was V1, resting. The machine had its optic closed, seemingly to appear “asleep”. It was honestly endearing to the angel. To see such a powerful and hyperactive mechanical force, sleeping in his arms, warmed his heart. Gabriel gently moved his arm up, reaching to pat V1’s head. Its optic peaked open, the light from it casting a glowing amber hue on him.

“Finally done resting, Machine?” He spoke.

The word had become more of a term of endearment to refer to V1. They stared at his helmeted face, and with their feedbacker hand, went to cup Gabriel’s cheek under the helmet. He chuckled.

“Didn’t take you for such a cuddly type. Then again, you’re full of surprises.”

V1 slowly got up off of him, and stood up, stretching their robotic joints. In quick motion, they signed out “YOU ASKED FOR IT” to him. He chuckled.

“I’M GOING TO SCAVENGE FOR FOOD AND PARTS; YOU CAN STAY BACK, GABE.” it then signed. He nodded, waving goodbye as V1 scrambled off. Gabriel took a second to think of what to do without his love, his mind wandering to reminisce on first getting here.

Since coming to live on earth, the two had gotten quite settled in, despite the ruined conditions. The sky was a clouded mess most of the time, harsh snow pelting the frozen grounds. But occasionally, the sun’s light would shine down, illuminating the barren world, if only for a minute. They had together found and restored a cozy home on the outskirts of some old city. It took a while, but it was worth it. They had even managed to make a fireplace to warm the two on the coldest days of winter. Every now and then, they’d explore the abandoned city to find anything that caught their eye. Sometimes it was scraps of shiny objects that Gabriel hoarded, or it was old electronic parts that V1 would try and repair. Either way, it provided them with something to do, other than spar or cuddle.

It also came as a surprise to both of them to find lots of fauna and even some animals still alive, even in the harsh conditions of the neverending snowstorm. V1 used this opportunity to hunt for blood rather than use Gabriel’s. It made him wonder, how fascinating, that life could go on, even in the absence of The Father.

The sounds of birds chirping startled him out of his thoughts… Wait, birds..? Gabriel got up from his spot, strolling outside, curious. Sure enough, on a fallen tree beside the house, a flock of Mourning Doves cooed and chirped, nestled together for warmth. He smiled. A sudden sound of trees rustling started the doves, and they scattered. Gabriel looked to the source of the noise, only to find his beloved dragging a tree from a closeby forest.

“...Machine..? What are you doing..?” Gabriel inquired. V1 looked up, dropping the tree to sign something out.

“THOUGHT I COULD SURPRISE YOU WITH A CHRISTMAS TREE.”

“Wait.. It’s Christmas???” He said, surprised. He never knew what month or day it was since humanity died out.

“YUP. MY INTERNAL CLOCK SAYS IT’S DECEMBER 25TH, 2330. DIDN’T KNOW IT EVEN WORKED UNTIL NOW.”

Gabriel stood still, shocked at the revelation. Had… Had it really been that long…?

“WOULD YOU MIND HELPING ME GET THIS TREE IN, OR ARE YOU GOING TO STAND THERE IN THE COLD?” V1 signed. Gabriel scoffed.

“Can’t you do it yourself, or have you gotten weaker since we last fought?” He teased. V1’s optic gave him a dirty look.

“Ok.. Fine, I’ll help.” Gabriel walked over, grabbing the other side of the tree and lifting it up. Together, they carried the tree in, setting it down in the corner of the living room.

The tree wasn’t in too bad shape, all things considered. Gabriel looked over to the tree, and then to V1.

“How… How do you know what Christmas is? For all I know, we are the only two beings to be celebrating it in decades.” He asked.

“CREATORS WOULD HAVE A TREE IN THE LAB EVERY CHRISTMAS.” The machine signed. “I LEARNED FROM SOME ENGINEERS WHAT IT ALL MEANT.”

“Interesting… Do you know how to decorate a tree, Machine?”

“YOU HANG DECORATIONS ON IT. COULD WE USE SOME OF THOSE SHINY SCRAPS YOU COLLECTED INSTEAD?” It inquired. Gabriel nodded.

“Before we do that… I…” Gabriel began, unsure of what exactly to say. V1 tilted their head, curious.

“I’d like to thank you, for being with me all this time. You mean the world to me, V1. I’m… I’m happy to celebrate Christmas with you. Merry Christmas, Machine.” He said, smiling under his helmet. If V1 could smile, they would too.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOVE.” It signed, hugging the angel. He hugged back. Despite everything around them, life was good with those you cherish.

[foibles-fables]

What's that? Random asks? Don't mind if I do!

How did you hear about Horizon that made you want to play it, and how was that first time?

Howdy hello and HECK YES! I love this question.

So--summer 2020. I'd just come back from a decade-long hiatus from fandom in general, and was starting to learn the new ropes and spaces (this former livejournal clown breaking into discord and twitter, etc.). One night, I was scrolling through my twitter timeline and happened to stumble upon the freshly-posted E3 announcement trailer for HFW. And even though I hadn't really played a narrative video game since the PS2 era, I decided to watch it. And, huh! I remember saying, "Badass freckly redheaded archer...seems relevant to my interests." The graphics were absolutely gorgeous and what little hints of the story were present in that trailer (especially for someone who knew nothing of the narrative background presented so far) were compelling.

So I looked up some info and found out that it was a sequel to a 2017 game. Cool. Filed that away for later, deciding to get a PS5 when they released later that year.

Jump-cut to late December. I managed to get my hands on a PS5, and it was delivered a couple days before Christmas. Which was awesome, because life was not going super well and I needed a heavy-duty distraction. At this point I had kind of pushed Horizon to the backburner and was instead excited to play AC Valhalla as my first game! But when I booted up, I learned that my mother had bought me the disc version as a Christmas gift. I was left with a couple of days to try other stuff out before I could dive in to ACV.

So, I shrugged and downloaded HZD instead. And the rest is kind of history.

Went into it kind of ambivalent and really hoping I would like it. I had tried to play BotW and was completely overwhelmed by the open-world aspects, and not in a pleasant way, and I hoped that wouldn't be the case here. I'd also never really been into a ton of action games before, as most of my old faves were turn-based. The gameplay itself wouldn't be the clincher for me--that would be the story.

WELL, good news is, I was hooked from the prologue. I would equate playing HZD to not just watching a narrative masterwork unfold, but being in the driver's seat of one. Each discovery Aloy and I made was enthralling and exhilarating, and I legitimately could not stop playing. Could not stop exploring. Every side quest, every collectible, every corner of the map (besides the hunting grounds after earning my Suns at the Nora one, SORRY TALANAH). The entirety of "Deep Secrets of the Earth" had me staring into the darkness of my gaming room in a mix of existential horror and pure amazement. I wept at the ending. The HZD cast left an indelible mark on my heart, and it really reminded me of just how powerful game stories can be. Still trapped in hyperfixation hell (affectionate) over it.

The fun didn't stop there, though. By the time I finished the game (I took my time!), it was early February 2021. I feel very lucky to have sauntered in when I did, because it really seems like it was the perfect time to join the fandom. Folks were coming out of hibernation from both 2017 and the 2020 PC release, hyped with excitement and theories for HFW. Within those first months I met some of the most fabulous and now-lifelong friends (and more <3) I've ever had.

Bottom line: after playing HZD, Horizon and the fandom pulled me through a very very very difficult time in my life. I'm eternally grateful to this series and the meaning I derive from it. Especially from the first game--its vibrant narrative, and its absolutely fantastic characters. Lightning in a bottle, man.

And no, I still haven't finished AC Valhalla. lmao.

[underratedandoverit]

both times

~1,4k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

you know that feeling when you find out all of a sudden that "clementine" is NOT a new nickname kip has used for cassidy and it evokes some kind of an emotion in you? and THEN you find out the context of that promo and everything just kinda clicks in your brain and youre like "OH OKAY"

well yeah heres a fic for you about that lmao

i hope it makes sense since its trying to include two scenes at the same time, one from following the events of full gear 2020 and the other from december 2022 with that famous "sweet little clementine" promo, which this one takes place during/after in current time. i really hope thats clear in it

theres nothing explicit or even really mature here, we hint at stuff but its very in between the lines. kip is kinda possessive and can be read as an asshole about it tho. also i banged this out in like an hour and only did very minimal editing on it so thats on me i just want this out of my brain

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate

on ao3

---------------------------

Cassidy could feel the hand print burning against his cheek like it had just happened. In reality time had continued to pass for over two years since then, without showing signs of stopping or waiting for those that it was leaving behind.

The moment he heard the words “sweet little Clementine” escape from between Kip’s lips on the interview set, Cassidy had mentally checked out. His mind was running back, through those months without the Brit hanging around backstage, sitting in the crowd with an obscuring box on his head. Through the last remaining moments of Arcade Anarchy he could remember, the matches leading up to it, the wedding he had effectively ruined with the help of Chuck.

All the way back to Full Gear.

Cassidy’s fingers curled into a fist, nails pressing into his palm trying to keep himself from acting without thinking on the spot, trying to focus on what Kip was saying to him in the present time.

He could remember the intensity of the moment. How Kip, Miro and Penelope had approached the Best Friends during the interview. Kip demanding an apology from him.

“This has everything to do with you, Clementine.”

Clementine.

Clementine.

His sweet little Clementine.

Cassidy couldn’t look at him. He didn’t remember anything else from that moment except the slap and the nickname Kip was calling him. Mocking him with, trying to get under his skin with. Much like he was doing right now.

The hand colliding against Cassidy’s cheek was the one thing he could remember from that exact moment. The slap felt real, the intensity behind it clearly having been built up for Kip for the sake of the show. He had looked actually mad at him, Cassidy remembered that much from what he was able to see from the corner of his eye before Chuck and Trent scared him away.

Much like they had walked out of the interview with his friends back then, Cassidy watched Kip turn and leave the set, the blond at this point running on autopilot of his stoic character with no reaction to anything.

He excused himself fast, following after Kip. His mind was still racing back to two years ago, finding some kind of weird comfort in comparing the two situations that felt incredibly alike to him, only with their roles slightly reversed and the situation twisted around them. Cassidy stared at the back of Kip’s head as he followed the other man a few steps behind down the hallway, despite Kip never looking back at him there was something in Cassidy that told him that he knew exactly what was happening.

Unlike him, Kip always seemed to be on top of the situation. Keeping mental tabs on everything while Cassidy barely had the energy to process what was happening in front of him. Maybe it was for the better at times, when he didn’t need to be in control as he stepped inside the locker room after Kip, the Brit immediately pushing him against a wall as soon as the door closed behind Cassidy, locking him into a kiss.

It felt sudden, but comfortable, familiar.

It wasn’t the first time. That one Cassidy could still remember almost too clearly.

The situation felt eerily similar. Kip had called him names. Affectionate names, whether he knew it or not. The first time the confrontation was physical, this time Kip chose the verbal, more mental approach. It led to them trapped together in an otherwise empty locker room, one pinned against the wall, hastily making out like they were afraid of getting caught.

Maybe they were. That’s at least what the first time felt like. Kip had to convince him that everything with Penelope was just for the show, nothing about the engagement or the wedding was real. That by doing this Cassidy wasn’t making him participate in infidelity or anything like that. Kip was a free man, ready and willing to do what he wanted.

And he made sure it was clear that that night what he wanted, was very much Orange Cassidy.

Kip pulled away from the kiss briefly to catch his breath, Cassidy dropping the backpack from his hands that he had been holding, hands snaking their way around Kip’s hips. He could see the soft blush on Kip’s face, a combination of both desire and embarrassment of how easily he allowed himself to be consumed by these feelings in the presence of the blond. Cassidy simply didn’t care, he found it more endearing than anything else.

Rarely would anyone respond back to him and his lack-of-everything personality with such enthusiasm and assertiveness as Kip did. And Cassidy didn’t mind that at all.

The hand still burned on his face the first time Cassidy had kissed him. That time he took the control, Kip’s worried tone asking if he was okay and if the slap had been too hard pushing him over the edge. Kip allowed it, although being slightly shocked and confused, but easily coming to terms with it, much like Cassidy was doing in his hold right now as Kip pushed him slightly harder against the wall, leaning as close to him as possible without letting their lips touch again.

“My. Sweet. Little. Clementine.”

He knew exactly what he was doing. Cassidy knew he knew. He knew Kip knew that he knew. Each word accompanied with his hot breath tickled Cassidy’s lips, wanting to desperately close that gap again, to have those lips on him, to have those hands on him. Kip knew exactly that he was playing with his prey, but they both allowed it.

That was maybe the one thing that was different from the first time, when they both had just gone with the flow of the situation. This time was very clearly more methodical, Kip just playing around with him, teasing him with his lips pressing against his neck instead, knowing that it had been so long since the first time that speeding to catch up wasn’t going to do this any favors.

Slowly Kip’s hands reached for Cassidy’s, untangling them from around him, gently but firmly pinning them against the wall over his head. The blond didn’t resist, he only let out a quiet but clearly shaky breath that made Kip smile against the soft skin of his neck.

Cassidy could remember this being exactly like the first time, but their roles reversed. Kip remembered it exactly the same way as he did, playing into the memory hanging over their heads almost perfectly, giving Cassidy the hopeful longing that maybe tonight would end much the same way as it did last time two years ago.

“My. Clementine,” Kip mumbled against his neck, giving him a soft nibble, gathering a much wanted rough breath out of the blond. Kip chuckled, pulling away again, the smirk of clear satisfaction crossing his entire face as he stared back at Cassidy, even from behind the sunglasses the intensity of the eyes being very obvious to him.

“You want to continue this somewhere more private? Or are you… Too impatient?”

Cassidy tried to steady his breathing, his mind circling around his options as Kip had now freed him from the memory he had been playing along with by breaking the chain of events of that night. This was a new turn, but a turn that Cassidy welcomed as he quietly managed one word out of his mouth.

“Hotel.”

Kip nodded, his hands releasing the hold they had of Cassidy’s arms, the blond only now really becoming aware of how numb they had become over the course of the last few moments. He had been too deep in his own head to really notice, but Kip was clearly once again a step ahead of him, reaching for the backpack on the floor as he threw it on his shoulder without getting any resistance back from the owner of it.

Kip leaned closer to him, stealing a quick kiss from his lips. Cassidy tried to lean into it more, still obviously craving what he was denied of, but Kip pulled away with a soft laugh.

“Everything in due time, Clementine,” he stated, a little mischievous glint in his eyes. “Everything.”

[phoebeyates-archive]

○ location: phoebe's apartment ○ date: monday 8th january 2024 (with flashbacks to 2002, 2008 and 2023) [tw: toxic parent-child relationships, manipulation, abandonment, money issues, implied mental health issues including dissociation]

Whatever was in the box was heavy, and it was a struggle for Phoebe to get it through the doors up the building, up the stairs to her floor, and through her front door. Not sure what else to do with it, she dumped it on the coffee table, heaving for breath that she wasn’t entirely sure was from the physical exertion or the unease of anxiety she felt since getting that phone call early this morning, tucked up beside Foster in his (admittedly, now quite comfortable) bed, having to sneak into his bathroom and figure out what was going on through hushed tones, leaving without saying goodbye so she didn’t have to wake him.

It had been a painful experience, from being ushered into the Director’s office whilst scrambling to put her phone on Do Not Disturb, watching Aslihan fight for her over the fact that of course Phoebe wouldn’t willingly order anything to the museum address. That whatever it was clearly wasn’t a security risk, and that they were just looking for an excuse to get her in trouble. Phoebe had studied the large package, a big square box in non-descript wrapping, giving away no indication if it was a late birthday or Christmas gift, or something else altogether. The return address sent a shiver down her spine as she recognized it from that drive to Boulder, awkwardly admitting it was from her mom, avoiding Aslihan’s thunderous look at the box, as the assistant awkwardly took it and promised the Director that this would never happen again.

Staring back at the box, Phoebe debated whether to open it or contact her mom, though she couldn’t find where the hell she put her phone in during the journey of hauling it up the stairs. In the end, she vied for neither, deciding that running a bath would clear her head, and melt away the sudden crawling feeling on her skin, trying to fight off the memories of the past.

December, 2002

“Oh my God! I love it!” Phoebe squealed as she ripped off the wrapping paper of the box her dad handed her, revealing the Barbie Rapunzel she had eyed at for months. Sat on the sofa, glass of eggnog clutched in her hand, Lisa snorted.

“Damn, he gets a promotion at the big fancy firm and can suddenly afford…one branded doll?” She asked with an eye roll.

Michael’s smile tightened, the previous light in his eyes of watching his daughter unwrap her Christmas gifts faded. “Lisa, can we not right now?” He kept his voice light, as if Phoebe were a dog who couldn’t understand words but rather tone instead, turning back to his daughter who was tracing the patterns of the box with her finger. “You know, sweetie, you can open her. She’s for playing after all.” 

Phoebe turned the box over, scratching at the tape securing the packaging together when Lisa cleared her throat. “Not until you open my gift, Pheebs.” And she nudged her head to the very big box in the corner. The box Phoebe wasn’t allowed to touch until the ‘right moment’. Almost greedily, Phoebe shuffled over to the box, ripping open the intricate wrapping. 

“Oh my god!” She yelled at the same time Michael exclaimed “Jesus, Lisa, really?!” as the PlayStation 2 logo was revealed, with the game SingStar and its microphones with it.

“What? I can’t spoil my daughter at Christmas?” She argued. At this, Michael stood up, grabbing his ex-wife by her arm, and dragging her  into the direction of the kitchen. 

“Is that what you called me up sobbing about when you lost your job earlier this month?” Michael had hissed, thinking Phoebe couldn’t hear, as her two parents launched into an argument in the other room, as if the thin walls of the house could cover up their hurtful words. Phoebe at that point decided she didn’t want to play with either of her gifts anymore, choosing to delicately place them to the side.

Within six months, she donated them. Her mom was pissed about the PlayStation, even though they both knew she only did it to upstage Michael after all.

October, 2008

“He didn’t show.” Phoebe hated to state the obvious, but she figured it was going to be the question that left her mom’s mouth as she joined her daughter on the creaky porch, watching the golden leaves softly drop from the trees and onto the floor. She had just turned thirteen, and had been dreading it for a number of reasons. The fact that the fair-weathered friends of her mom had been making sly remarks about her being a ‘woman’ in a way that made her skin crawl, down to the big party she was being strong-armed into throwing, knowing full well no one would come.

“What excuse did he use this time?” Lisa asked. Last year, when she had turned twelve, he texted her to say something happened at work and he’d call later. He never did. At Christmas, said he had a business trip and wouldn’t be back in time. They had seen him at the mall on Boxing Day, when Lisa was returning the gifts from her boyfriend of the time, but chose to pretend he didn’t exist either.

“He didn’t,” Phoebe replied truthfully. In all fairness, he didn’t actually get in touch to say he’d show up for his daughter’s thirteenth birthday, but Phoebe was under the assumption he would, at least. 

“I figured,” Lisa sighed, before going inside for a minute, returning with a small box. “I was going to give you this at your party, but well, I think you deserve it now.” 

Hesitantly, Phoebe took the lid of the box, letting out a small gasp at the shiny iPod Touch that looked up at her. “Oh my god…Mom, this is amazing!” 

“Micah helped me put some songs on it. And he said, anything you wanna add, he’ll help you too.” Lisa promised, smiling as she spoke of her newest boyfriend, reaching over and stroking her hair. “My best girl, thank you.”

Phoebe leaned into her touch. It would be a while before she learned the bigger the present meant that Lisa was trying to get something, or do something. Ruin Phoebe’s image of her father, break the news she lost another job, or failed another relationship. Try and seem like she was the best, put together parent ever.

But in that moment, the thirteen year old, who’s upcoming November would be overtaken with Taylor Swift and Twilight, both on her iPod before Micah bailed in December, just took her mom at face value. Because why wouldn’t she believe otherwise?

February, 2023

Phoebe stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and arms crossed. Lisa stood at the top, confused frown on her face.

“There’s a suitcase with your name on the luggage tag in the living room.” Phoebe explained, slowly, like trying to describe something otherwise obvious to a toddler.

“Great deduction skills, Sherlock.” Lisa drawled, heading down, an ominous creak on every other step, as if the years of neglect and damage were threatening to collapse the rotted wood. 

“Where are you going?” She hated it, how small she felt asking the question. She was twenty-seven now, and she and her mom didn’t have to explain things to each other such as their whereabouts. But there was a sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach that she couldn’t ignore. Phoebe noticed the way Lisa thought she was slyly hiding the envelopes on the kitchen table, the big red letters of ‘FINAL NOTICE’ plain and clear to the naked eye. Her mom’s new boyfriend, Carl, had been extremely jumpy too. Like they were planning something Phoebe wasn’t allowed to know about.

And she was tired of being handled with kid gloves.

“I have something for you...” Lisa sing-songed, completely avoiding the question. Phoebe’s stomach twisted in on itself further, especially as she watched her go to the coat-rack, the turquoise gift bag making her gasp.

“No.” Phoebe declared as her mom handed her the Tiffany gift bag. “Mom, you can’t -,”

“Well, it’s from Carl, moreso. I just helped choose. The architect money you know. Go on, Pheebs, open it.” She urged.

She stood frozen in shock for a minute, thinking about whatever was in the box and how much it would cost. Money that they didn’t have. Clearly annoyed at her daughter’s slowness, Lisa snatched the bag back, pulling out a box in the same color as the bag and opening it. Phoebe could see her reflection in the large diamond earrings staring back at her.

“He just was so grateful you made him feel so welcome in our home,” Lisa continued, apparently uncaring about her daughter’s shell-shocked reaction, snapping the box shut and firmly placing it in Phoebe’s hand. “Especially since you’ll be solely responsible for it for the next few months.”

Now that got a reaction from the brunette. “Wait, what?”

“The trip.” Lisa stated, matter-of-factly, smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Carl is taking me across Europe, babe. He wanted to take you, really, but what with your vacation hours and the fact you don’t own a passport and are scared of planes and all that -,”

Phoebe didn’t know what else to say, just nodding numbly. “And Carl, he’s paying for all of this?” It didn’t really sound like the man, who was more sleazy than charming with a questionable combover and thought tweed was fashionable. She remembered the first time she met him, out for dinner with him and Lisa, and he heavily hinted that Phoebe should be picking up the bill, as a gift to the lovebirds finding their happiness.

Her suspicions only rose when Lisa’s face fell for just a second, and all she wanted to do was shake her mother. How she got the money for the trip, she didn’t even want to know right now. But this was extremely irresponsible, even for her. “Look, my darling girl,” She stammered, cupping Phoebe’s face in her hand. “I think this will be good for me, I can explore my passions, and when I come home, can work on starting that business I always dreamed about! And you can quit working at the hotel and be my partner. This is just…experience. Plus, I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. You know how much I love pasta!” 

The rest of the day went by in a blur, with somehow Phoebe being coerced into driving Lisa and Carl to the airport. The earrings stayed in their beautiful blue box, until Phoebe had time to return them, finding out that they weren’t a gift from Carl at all, but from her mom’s credit card. 

If Lisa ever noticed the return, or how Phoebe never wore them in their sporadic video calls, she never commented on it. The younger woman doubted her mom even remembered the buttering up gift after all. Because that’s all it was, some sort of bribe, to stay pliant.

January 2024

She didn’t know how long she had been in the tub, but long enough that the water had turned cold, her body beginning to shiver as she slowly came back into it. Something had disrupted her from her trip down memory lane, itching at the back of her mind, when she heard it again. Her door buzzer. Erratic, furious,as if whoever was downstairs was looking for a fight. Phoebe quickly stumbled out of the bath, drying herself haphazardly as she found some sweats and a hoodie to throw on, to the accompaniment of the mechanical drawl of her buzzer.

Then, taking a deep breath, she slowly approached it and answered.

[maria-scribbles]

meet me at midnight

summary: new year's eve, 1983. a rooftop, an epiphany, and a kiss that changes everything

wc: 5k

ship: eddie munson x f!henderson!reader

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs and smoking, mention of barb's death (rip queen), stancy (eugh), kissing, the reader being jealous and insecure and also kinda stupid.

a/n: writing stancy made me physically ill. i really do love nancy but i'm afraid i wrote her terribly ooc in this ugh. also, do i headcannon eddie as a saxophone player? yes, yes i do. why? no fucking clue. robin's favorite band is named 'blush' after maya hawke's first album.

-

meet me at midnight

December 31st, 1983

"Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?"

You were inclined to, that's for sure.

Annie Lennox's voice booms throughout the house as you tuck yourself further into the corner you've managed to claim, a lukewarm cup of punch in hand. It feels like the entire student body of Hawkins High is here at Tina's party, bodies jostling each other on the makeshift dance floor and spilling down the hallway like an overflowing sink, even trickling outside onto the deck to smoke despite the frosty air.

You shift your weight from one heeled boot to the other and choke down a sip of your drink, wincing at the alcohol burning its way down your throat. Leave it to some thickheaded jock to make a punch that's almost entirely rum, you think as you abandon the solo cup on the nearest shelf and pull your sweater sleeve down to check the time.

It's not nearly as late as you'd hoped, the glowing green numbers reading ten-thirty, and you drop your arm with a sigh. An hour and a half before midnight and an hour and a half way too long in your opinion.

"Having fun?" Nancy's face is flushed as she squeezes her way through the dancing crowd to you, dragging Steve by the hand.

Absolutely not.

"Oh, totally!" Your smile feels so forced you're sure she'll notice and call you out but it never comes, both to your relief and disappointment; once upon a time you'd been thick as thieves, the best of friends just like your little brother and hers, before she'd ditched you for Barb and left you behind in the dust.

Barb, whose body lies in another dimension, frozen forever at sixteen.

Yeah, you're still processing that last part and you were there, standing beside Dustin as Eleven confirmed Nancy's worst fear, heart breaking for your former best friend as she cried into Jonathan's arms.

(Later that night, when everything was said and done and you were safe in bed with your little brother sleeping soundly across the hall was when you cried for Barb, too, a girl who was kind and innocent and undeserving of her terrible fate.)

Your relationship's been on the mend ever since but as much as it hurts to admit, you'll never be as close as you once were and Nancy's inability -or unwillingness, you think bitterly- to pick up on your unhappiness is only further proof.

"Wanna come dance with us?" She asks, oblivious, and you shake your head, crossing your arms to keep her from grabbing your hand because as bored as you are, being a third wheel would be even worse. You already feel bad for crashing their date by tagging along for the drive here, even though they both insisted on giving you a ride.

"Trust me, that wouldn't be pretty. Dusty says I dance like a school chaperone."

Steve bursts out laughing at that and it makes your heart do a little flip in your chest, even as Nancy fondly shakes her head. "Come on, you're not that bad."

"Oh no, I am." You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as someone opens the front door and lets in a freezing blast of air. "Seriously, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go grab some snacks."

"Try the snickerdoodles! I ate, like ten of them." Steve admits that last part pretty sheepishly and the way Nancy stares up at him with the most adoring look in her eyes makes you feel like you're intruding on something private.

You offer an awkward smile in thanks and with a tiny wave from Nancy, they melt back into the mess of bodies dancing along to Cyndi Lauper, leaving you alone once again.

For no less than the fifth time tonight, you wish Robin was here, not halfway across the state visiting her grandparents. While you might've lost Nancy as your best friend in middle school, you gained another: Robin had also been dropped by Barb and so it was only fitting that the two of you became fast friends, not just acquaintances that sat beside each other in the band's trumpet section.

(You miss Nancy honestly, you really do, but sometimes you think being ditched was one of the best things that's ever happened. You and Robin just click, two peas in a pod, and to you, she feels like the sister you always wish Nancy would've been.)

If Robin was here, she would've already made some quip about Steve and his coiffed hair, or Carol and the permanent expression on her face that made her look like she smelled something bad, or Jason and his attempts to impress Chrissy with his awful dance moves, and it would've had you doubled over in laughter.

She wouldn't let you wallow in the corner by yourself, an outsider looking in, both unwilling and unable to throw caution to the wind and just let go. But she's not here, so wallowing it is.

Being kind to yourself has never been your strong suit.

As if the universe is listening, mocking, a gap in the crowd grows just enough to give you a perfect view of Steve and Nancy swaying in each other's arms and you hate the bitter taste that suddenly floods your mouth.

You have no right to be jealous.

You've never admitted your little crush on Steve to yourself, let alone Nancy: how was she supposed to know? You're not even sure if it's all about him in the first place because sure, you think he's cute -you always have- but you get the same gnawing feeling watching Bradley spin Tina around the room in a playful waltz or Nate stealing a kiss from Georgina under the mistletoe still hanging in the doorway and you can barely tolerate either of those idiots.

It's all so terribly confusing.

Steve twirls Nancy under his arm and then dips her low to the ground, her delighted laughter reaching your ears even over the pounding music and something ugly blooms in your chest. You make your escape before you can do something stupid like cry, weaving your way across the living room and down the hall toward the kitchen with your head down.

…Which is precisely how you end up head butting one of your classmates directly in the chest when you turn the corner.

They give a soft 'oof' of surprise and you're absolutely mortified when you realize it's a boy, not just from the tone of his voice but from the toes of his white Reeboks bumping into your boots.

The same shoes you've heard keeping time in band every day since seventh grade, tapping along to the beat on the riser behind you with the rest of the saxophone players. The same shoes you see at the desk in front of you in third period English, still tapping along to the music that's always running through his mind, accompanied by the furious scribbling of a pencil across paper as he jots down lyrics for a new song.

You wince and keep your head down, hoping he'll just act like nothing happened and go on his merry way and just when you're about to think you're in the clear-

"Ow. You have a hard head, Henderson."

Shit, you think. Of course you had to literally run into the one person you feel like you can't speak two words to without making a complete fool of yourself; something about Eddie just makes you flustered beyond belief and you really wish you knew why 'cause it's, to put it frankly, annoying.

Really fucking annoying.

"Shit." You say out loud, quickly looking up to meet his big brown eyes before glancing away and staring at the zombie adorning the front of his Iron Maiden shirt instead. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"No shit, Sherlock." He teases but there's no trace of malice in his voice, just amusement, even as his ringed hand comes into view and rubs the spot where your forehead crashed into his chest. "You okay?"

Embarrassment burns your face and you cross your arms defensively, firing back with a weak insult you're sure he can see right through 'cause if there's one thing you're good at, it's looking like an idiot all day, every day.

"I'm fine. You're not looking very festive, Munson."

He snorts in laughter and you finally gather the courage to meet his eyes again, only to find him already looking down at you with something behind his gaze that you can't quite figure out.

"I think you're festive enough for the both of us." He gestures to your deep navy sweater dotted with bursts of silver thread that give the illusion of stars. "You look really pretty, by the way."

Your brain short circuits.

Pretty? You're wearing your mom's sweater and Eddie thinks you look pretty?

You're too busy trying to get your mouth to work as the silence stretches on -you'll take a 'huh?' at this point, or maybe even an unintelligible squeak, just say something, you moron- to notice the pink blooming high in his cheeks and the way he speaks in a rush, the words all jumbling together so fast it's hard for your frazzled mind to understand what he's saying.

"-your help, so keep watch, okay?"

Keep watch?

He turns and strides into the kitchen without another word and you end up following a few seconds later, after you've finally recovered enough to get your legs working, at least.

You find him standing by the big bowl of punch, rummaging around the array of bottles littering the island, every so often picking one up to inspect before putting it back in its place with a shake of his head. To your surprise, it's not more alcohol he finally picks up but a two-liter of Sprite and at last you get your mouth to work as you blurt out, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fixing this shitty ass punch." He's not even phased by your sudden question, save for the quick smile he sends your way as he pours the entire bottle in. "Have you tried it? Jesus, Jan would be disgusted."

You cross your arms and lean your hip against the counter, keeping an eye on the door just like he'd asked. "I have, unfortunately. Who's Jan?"

"Bartender at the Hideout." Eddie throws a reply over his shoulder as he digs around in the fridge, yelling triumphantly when he finds whatever he's looking for. It turns out to be a can of pineapple juice and he dumps that in, too, turning the blue punch a pretty shade of green. "My band plays there on-"

"-Tuesdays, I know." You interrupt without thinking and rush to explain yourself, almost tripping over your words when he turns his curious gaze on you.

"Um, there's this all-girl band Robin loves, Blush. We go see them sometimes and end up staying to watch you guys, too, because you're really good-" You pause at the smile slowly growing wider on his face and shake your head. "-but you already knew that, didn't you?"

He shrugs, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he stirs some cherries into the punch, then dishes out two cups and pushes one across the island to you.

"Yeah, I see you there a lot. You're kind of hard to miss when the rest of the audience is just five old drunk dudes."

Your laugh rings in the cavernous kitchen as you push off the counter to grab your drink, tapping it against his when he holds it out toward you.

"Cheers."

You're not sure what to expect when you take that tentative first sip but it's definitely not something sweet and smooth with just the right amount of fizz, the burn of the rum still present but not as overpowering as it was before.

"Okay, so I don't know how you managed to make this shit taste good but you did."

Eddie sweeps into a low bow and you hide a smile behind your cup at his theatrics. "Thank you, thank you. I do accept tips, you know, and all proceeds go directly to Jan so she can buy herself a car."

You smile wider and take another sip. "I'd love to donate but I left my purse at home, I'm afraid."

He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment before leaning forward across the island and waving you closer, dropping his voice to such a low whisper you would've had to move in anyway to even hear him.

"How about I make you a deal, Henderson? Come watch us next Tuesday, slip Jan a twenty, and I'll play a song -any song- just for you."

"Ooh, tempting." You whisper back just as quietly, tapping a finger against your chin even as a weird feeling takes hold in your stomach at his offer. "Any song I want? How about-"

"Hold on, I take that back. Any song but 'September.'"

Your jaw drops. "How'd you know-"

"Because I hear you humming it every day in band, that's how."

"Oh." How the hell does he know you hum that song when half the time you don't even realize you're doing it? You've annoyed Dustin enough to know it's true, after he told you in no uncertain words. "How about I make you a deal? I give Jan thirty dollars and Corroded Coffin covers Earth, Wind & Fire."

He stares at you for a beat longer before slowly breaking out into a smile. "…I'll think about it."

You've always know he has a pretty smile, catching glimpses of it across the cafeteria from where you sat with Robin and the rest of the marching band or in crowded hallways as you rushed to make it to your locker in between classes, but having its full force directed right at you knocks the very breath right out of your lungs.

"it's not a no, so…works for me." You say, propping your chin in one hand and swirling your cup in the other, watching the opaque green liquid spin around like the center of a hurricane. "Why'd you have me guard the door, anyway? I wouldn't call making this sludge drinkable very deviant of you."

"Please," Eddie scoffs, mirroring you exactly. "'Resident metalhead spotted adding mixers to the jungle juice?' I can't trash my reputation like that."

"No, never." You huff a laugh under your breath. "You'd be ruined."

He laughs, too, and you're not sure when it became so warm in here but it's making you want to roll your sweater sleeves up to your elbows.

"See! I knew you'd have my back, Henderson."

The more you think about it, the more you realize you always have. Every time the rumor mill paints him in a bad light, you're there to put it all to rest with nothing more than a perfectly directed scowl because you like Dio, too and wear black nail polish and occasionally play DnD with Dustin and his friends when they need a sub and no one's ever accused you of worshiping Satan for fuck's sake.

If any of them would bother to look deeper than the surface, they'll see what you do, that he's kind and sweet and caring and you know because you've seen him prove it with your own eyes: driving the rest of the Hellfire Club home if they didn't have rides, sticking up for the freshmen when the seniors decide to be cruel, and even now, witnessing him first hand try to raise money for a coworker to buy a car (granted that method might be called borderline manipulation but still, at least it's for a good cause).

"'Course I do." It's both too simple a statement and more than you ever wanted to admit and the way he's staring at you feels different, somehow, different and yet not unwelcome as you stare right back…

(Has he always had that dusting of freckles across his nose?)

…which is why you end up putting your foot in your mouth without even realizing it. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right, yeah."

Something flickers behind his brown eyes but it's gone before you can put your finger on it and he's smiling that smile again, pointed canines on full display as he hastily nods and straightens, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

"Do you have the time?" He sheepishly holds up his bare wrist. "Forgot my watch."

"Oh, sure." The sudden change of subject nearly gives you whiplash as you push your sleeve up to check. "Almost eleven fifteen."

"No time to lose, let's go." He grabs a napkin and swipes a few cookies from the counter, tucking them away into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Go where?"

"You'll see." Eddie nods his head toward the doorway and holds out a hand, silver rings catching the harsh kitchen lights. "C'mon, you trust me?"

"Against my better judgement." You tease and his laugh is downright devilish when you take his hand anyway, letting him lead you out into the hall.

You're not prepared for the warmth of his palm or the rough, calloused touch of his fingers or how your hand looks so small in his as he expertly weaves through your classmates milling about until you reach the bottom of the stairs, pausing just long enough to make sure the coast is clear before dashing up to the second floor.

"Are we even allowed up here?" You whisper and while the little conspiratorial grin on his face doesn't do much to ease your mind, the quick squeeze he gives your hand somehow does.

"Nope!" He leads you down the dark hallway with practiced ease, opening the last door on the left before pulling you inside and softly shutting it behind you both.

"I feel like a delinquent." Your quiet voice echoes in the large room, clearly Tina's from the Hawkins High cheer uniform hanging on the closet door and the over abundance of pink, and he snickers as he drops your hand to grab a blanket draped over the desk chair.

"Live a little, Henderson!" He opens another door, this one leading out onto a moonlit balcony -Jesus, you knew Tina's family was rich but come on- and holds it for you as you step outside. It's just beginning to snow, specks of white drifting down silently and forming a barely there dusting on the railing and you hold out your hand to catch one, watching as the tiny flake instantly disappears from the heat of your palm.

"C'mon, I'll give you a boost." Eddie says, tossing the blanket up onto the section of roof that's just a bit lower than the others.

"Don't tell me you shoot webs from your wrists." You joke, warily eyeing the spot even as you step forward and stand in front of him, grabbing the edge with both hands.

"Nah, I couldn't handle the responsibility of being Spider-Man." He moves closer and hovers his hands over your sides. "Still trust me?"

You nod.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is a low whisper in your ear and when a shiver runs down your spine, you blame it on the sudden gust of wind, nothing more.

You nod again.

His hands are big and oh so warm as he places them on your waist and before you know it, you're lifted onto the roof without so much as a warning, the rough shingles cold against your knees even through the thick denim of your jeans.

Holy shit, he's strong.

You don't even get the chance to offer your hand as he pulls himself up with an almost casual grace and spreads the blanket out, each step he takes so confident and sure, like he's done it time and time again.

"So, you sure know your way around Tina Williamson's roof." You carefully crawl closer and take a seat beside him, close enough that the length of your body is pressed right up against his to ward off the cold.

To be fair, you're also the slightest bit terrified of somehow falling right off the edge and it's like he reads your mind when he shuffles even closer and rests his arm along the curve of your back, not quite touching but near enough that you just know he'll catch you.

"Found out I could climb up here two years ago and-" He explains, pointing off somewhere beyond the back yard in the vague direction of town. "-it's got a killer view of the fireworks."

"It's peaceful." The sounds of the festivities have faded to nothing more than a faint thumping of bass and the occasional burst of laughter floating up from the smokers on the back deck. "So for the last two years, every party Tina's thrown, you've just been hiding up here?"

"More like escaping." Eddie shrugs and stares ahead at the snow-covered trees. "I don't even want to come to these things and I'm only invited 'cause I deal. Once these rich kids get their stuff and I get paid…no one really cares where I go so I just do what I want."

You care.

"All by yourself?"

He nudges you with his shoulder and when you turn to face him, that same look from earlier is behind his eyes, the one from the hallway and the kitchen that you still can't quite figure out. "You're the only person I've ever brought up here."

"Really?"

It's cold, the snow starting to fall a little bit heaver now, and yet you're so, so warm under his gaze as he nods, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly in the softest smile you've ever seen from him.

It's like hot chocolate on a snowy day or a cozy blanket on a cold night, safe and warm and feeling more than a little like home.

"I'm trusting you with this, Henderson. Don't abuse your power."

You smile and duck your head, pulling your sweater sleeves down further over your cold fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it, Munson."

You'd nearly forgotten all about the cookies hidden in his jacket pocket until he nudges your arm and hands you two, one of his own hanging out of his mouth and you realize they're the snickerdoodles Steve had told you to try.

For the first time, the thought of him doesn't make your stomach twist or your chest hurt. Honestly? You don't really feel anything in particular, other than the fact that he has damn good taste in desserts as you take a bite of your cookie, perfectly baked and covered in just the right amount of cinnamon and sugar.

No wonder he ate ten of them.

You finish eating in silence but you don't feel the need to fill it with anything other than the sound of your breathing; Eddie doesn't either and for who knows how long you sit side by side, watching tiny snowflakes lazily fall from the sky. They dot his dark hair with spots of white and a laugh slips from your mouth before you can stop it.

"What?" He turns your way and you just shake your head as you reach over and brush some flakes from the ends of his curls.

"The snow in your hair, it kinda looks like powdered sugar."

"Oh, so you think I'm sweet?" He waggles his eyebrows and you laugh so hard you have to lean on his shoulder to keep from falling over. The arm he has resting behind you's now fully pressed against your back and it feels like a live wire running along your spine.

"I never said that!"

"But you implied it." Your breath catches as he gently brushes some snow from your hair as well, the warm, calloused pads of his fingers glancing along your face. "And good thing 'cause I think you're sweet, too."

You suddenly get the feeling you've missed something very very important as you scoot away just far enough to turn and face Eddie fully. Down below, your classmates flood out onto the back deck to wait for the fireworks as the new year approaches but you could care less, all of your focus right in front of you on big brown eyes and tiny freckles and a beautifully devastating smile.

"Me?" You speak quietly into the cold air, the question forming swirling white wisps that float above your heads for a fleeting second before disappearing into the night.

You could elaborate but you don't have to because you know he knows exactly what you mean as his hand hovers in the air between you for a long moment before he finally reaches forward and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I thought I was being obvious." He says, a red hue coloring his cheeks that you know now is definitely not from the cold.

"Why?"

"Why did I think I was being obvious? Henderson, I'm gonna play Earth, Wind & Fire for you!"

"No, why do you…why me?"

It makes him pause, a gentle furrow to his brow, and the way he says your name so softly makes your heart skip a beat.

"Because you're you."

A minute to midnight is a pretty fucking weird time to have an epiphany but you've never had good timing.

"Oh."

It's like something just clicks, the last piece of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to solve slotting into place and it all makes such perfect sense you're not sure how you didn't see it before.

"I know you're into Harrington," Eddie says hastily, eyes darting away from yours for just a second before they come right back, wide and honest in the dark. "And I get it if you never want to speak to me again 'cause I just made things super weird but-"

"I'm not into Steve."

You don't know how he makes confusion look so cute but he does, eyebrows knit together and making a little wrinkle in his forehead that's just visible under his bangs. "You're not?"

"I thought I was but…" You trail off as more and more people flood outside, their voices loud and full of excitement as the countdown begins. "Turns out I'm falling for someone else and I finally figured out who."

"Ten, nine, eight."

You scoot closer, sitting on your knees so your face is level with his when you reach out to brush some more snow from his hair, letting your fingers graze over his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"Seven, six, five."

"Oh. It's okay." He sputters, a brilliant red flush slowly crawling up his neck like ivy. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now, ever since you joined the band when I was in eighth grade-"

"Four."

"-and you sat in front of me with your trumpet, wearing a Judas Priest shirt and I-"

"Eddie?" You interrupt because as much as you want to hear the rest of his story, you've got a more important thing on your mind.

"Three."

"Yeah?"

"Two."

"Please stop talking."

His jaw snaps shut almost comically and he watches with those wide eyes of his as you slowly cup his face in your hands.

"One."

The clock strikes midnight. The first firework shoots off from downtown and explodes in a brilliant flash of shimmering gold in the inky black sky. And you lean forward and kiss Eddie Munson.

The fireworks overhead are nothing compared to the ones you feel when he responds to your kiss with one of his own, his lips soft and sure under yours as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

He tastes like cinnamon sugar, spicy and sweet, and you can't get enough of him, of his warmth and his fingers sliding into your hair and the noise he makes low in his throat when you part your lips under his.

Kissing him is addicting, intoxicating. It's all you've ever wanted.

He's all you ever wanted.

You were just too blind to see it.

He's all you can see now when you finally part, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks and a smile that would've taken your breath if you had any left to give. The fireworks are long over but you don't even care that you missed the whole show as you lean forward to press your forehead against his.

"So, eighth grade, huh?" You ask and Eddie nods, rolling a strand of your hair between his thumb and pointer finger.

"You were humming 'Highway to Hell' and had holes in your jeans. And when I heard you talking about learning to play DnD for your little brother? That was it for me."

"I was nervous when I first joined band 'cause I had trouble staying on beat. I was so scared they were gonna kick me out." You say and when a snowflake lands on his cheek, you wipe it away with your thumb. "But I heard you tapping your foot behind me and you helped me keep time. Without you, I don't even know if I'd still be playing."

He tucks your hair behind your ear before taking your cold hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, his touch so soft and sweet it makes your head spin.

"Your hands are freezing."

"I don't want to go home yet."

You could stay like this forever with him and when he leans forward to press his lips to yours, you know he feels the same.

"Where to then?"

He's never looked more beautiful to you, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and full of affection and reflecting the shimmer of the stars overhead and a slow smile creeps onto your lips when you weave your fingers between his.

"Surprise me. I'm all yours."

An adorable pink blush sweeps across his nose as he pulls you in for another kiss and you know without a doubt you're speaking the truth.

You know you mean every word.

[opalthea]

I Wish I Were Heather..

♡ — Pairing : Xiao x GN!Reader

♡ — Characters : Xiao, Gender Neutral Reader, vague mentions of Zhongli at the end.

♡ — Summary : It's 3rd of December, and you return back to your homeland to celebrate the incoming winter.

♡ — Warnings : N/A!

♡ — Notes : I was supposed to post this on December 3rd, but couldn't get around to finish it. The fic's unpolished, I wrote this for fun and on a whim, so there's bound to be mistakes or things that don't sound right! Eitherway, this is the first part of my silly Xiao series, so I hope you'll stick around for the second part!! Much love <3

♡ — Links : The Post That Started It All. Next.

Tags for this Series : #heather - xiao

✧.

".. It's you."

"Ah, Xiao!" You gasp, then brightly smile, "I never thought I'd catch you here tonight. Well, it's not the first time, really.."

Xiao silently eyes your figure that stands by the doorway of his room, but eventually — reluctantly — pulls his gaze away. To you, it looked like he's scrutinizing you - but far from it is the truth. "What brings you here?" He asks gruffly, and silently, it's your cue to invite yourself in.

You take the chance to join his side by the window, and together, the both of you survey the landscape beyond Wangshu Inn. On nights like this when the moon is high, it's hard to find the adeptus lingering close to the inn, let alone find him mellowing in his special room. In fact - you don't think he's ever used this particular room, until you came.

A tiny part of you flutters at the thought; oh, you should really try to persuade him to be kinder to himself. The inn is really trying to look out for him, with how they cater to him, you almost feel bad for how hard they're trying.

"Well.. it's around the start of December. Some nations are near celebrating their seasonal festivities," you explain, averting your gaze from the sky to his eyes -- only to find that he had already been staring. When you realize that he has literally been staring at you — posture relaxed, eyes inquisitive and an eyebrow raised at your sudden pause — your smile wobbles, doubtful and flustered.

You clear your throat, and Xiao moves his head to look elsewhere, ceasing his study. Maybe he had found the topic to be boring? Oh- you sincerely prayed that's not the case.

"Ahem- so, like I was saying.."

Xiao cuts you off, "you're referring to the Snezhnayan holidays, I assume?" Crap- you thought he had lost his interest when he looked away! It causes you to blink owlishly, and stutter. Thankfully, it doesn't take you long to recover and reply, if not enthusiastically.

"Yes! Ah- you know about that, too?" You inquire, and Xiao playfully scoffs - something tells you that he doesn't really find your question absurd.

"Mortal customs and celebrations don't interest me in the slightest," Xiao crosses his arms — defensive, you note — but his gaze softens and you don't have the heart to tease, "but mortals and their childish concepts have long since existed before my time. It would be much stranger if I was not aware of its existence, at least."

Unbeknownst to you, he only knew of this when Verr Goldet had told her husband excitedly about your return to Wangshu Inn. He assumes you only came back because Liyue is your home, and that the holiday of your kin is simply a concept of returning to your homeland.

You shrug, a casual motion, "okay, you're not wrong there.. but it's still a surprise! C'mon, I thought you genuinely couldn't find the means to keep track of that kind of stuff."

But Xiao doesn't reply anymore to that, so you awkwardly let the topic go. 

Xiao, however, peeks at you from the corner of his eye, finds you scratching at your neck like you're nervous - and he can't help the next few words that tumble out of his mouth.

"Have you encountered a problem when you arrived here?"

What Xiao thought was your hesitance in asking for his help, is actually your nervousness in this silly little matter in your head. You sincerely look a little puzzled at his concern - but it's not hard to figure him out when you know him so well.

To avoid any more misunderstandings, you hastily raise your hands, "oh, no no no! It's nothing like that, c'mon." Ah, maybe you should really watch what you're doing around him; he's observant, but he's helplessly clueless, and you don't know what action would be best.. because you find yourself helplessly falling in love deeper!

His stare — glare, you gulp — is not helping your case.

"Okay, I admit, I didn't just come here to have a chat with you." You sigh, defeated by his gaze, and lean your head against the wall. Xiao still looks as protective as ever, so you need to quickly continue. "This celebration thing... There's a little concept of giving gifts to your loved ones, and, well, I've given all my presents to everyone in the harbor.."

You couldn’t find it in you to be a bit more courageous about your desire, so as soon as you fall silent, Xiao's shoulders slump, "I see."

It's hushed again. Xiao picks up from where he left off, "so are there any issues? If you seek advice, I suggest Cloud Retainer as your mentor." You think that's his own little way of saying he's not familiar with this act of gift-giving. It's a little funny, to be honest, when the reality of this situation is..

"Pft- Xiao," you laugh, and you pull out a whole sweater from thin air, "I don't need much advice, thank you. And, actually, this is for you."

Xiao stills, "what?"

You continue with a bright grin on your face - Xiao thinks it rivals the moon's elegant glow. "Have a look! I wasn't sure what would go best with your attire, but the color doesn't matter to you, does it? And- well, Liyue will get colder at this time of the year... Not that I'm doubting your resistance to the cold, I just-!"

You hardly hear Xiao calling your name until you feel each of his hands on yours, and the both of you clung onto the sweater you made. It's the first time he's ever stared at you with this.. how could you explain the way he gazes at you? Admiration? Or is it something past that formality?

You, of course, quiet yourself. Your heartbeat quickens with every second that silently goes, and once again, Xiao's staring did not help at all.

"Is it too much for you? The sweater? I know you're not that much of a fan of gifts, so if it's too much to accept, I could really just-"

"Thank you."

The silence returns, but it's not for long when Xiao starts to talk again. You don't realize how talkative he's been tonight.

"Mortal customs... Mortal traditions... These are not what I am made for, and yet, if it's you.." Xiao looks up at you, and his fingers curl around your hands, "I will accept this." Reluctantly, and painfully slow, Xiao trails his hands from your own pair to your hand-knitted sweater, and tugs. You don't know what comes over you — maybe it's the way you both tiptoe on the line, or it's the fact that the adeptus is just so hard to resist — but for once, and for all..

Only the moon bears witness to a bold human’s act upon the youngest yaksha – underneath its ethereal glow, with the faintest tunes of a familiar Dihua flute, your lips meet Xiao’s, pressed together like a couple of inexperienced kissers. The moment passes too quickly, and both of you pull away to catch your breaths. 

Xiao’s pupils are positively dilated, the golden in his eyes twinkling and shimmering like stars in the sky. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so enamored by something as small as a kiss.. but who are you to judge when your heart feels like it might as well jump out of your chest? And speaking of your poor, fragile heart…

Needing something to quickly cover up Xiao’s pinning stare, that sweater in your hands is now being pulled on, and he flinches from the sudden movement (and limited sight). It slips on his figure nicely — a little bigger, considering you didn’t have any references for his size —  and he looks at you quizzically, as if to ask ‘Why did you feel the need to do that?’

You exhale, something akin to pride bubbles in your chest. “It definitely looks better on you than it did me.” You say, recalling how the piece of clothing article didn’t look right on you. Perhaps because it was made specifically for only one person, or because you much preferred Xiao modeling your fashion work than yourself. Either way, he simply looks cozy, and warm, in the jacket you made for him, and that couldn’t have made you happier than you ever were. “..You look good.”

Might you add that he also looks a little bit red in the face, too.. but you’ll keep that one to yourself, lest he gets too embarrassed to stay or show up next time.

He looks away, of course, shy and uncertain of what’s next. “You are insufferable… But I will honor your gift.” A pause, then quietly he adds, “thank you.”

A hopeless and giddy grin stretches past your lips. In your moment of joy, you circle your arms around the stern, stern adeptus, and wonder just how is it that a human like you got lucky enough to be so close to someone as otherworldly as he... And on the 3rd of December, you lean in once more to steal another kiss from him.

Maybe there was good in listening to that man from the funeral parlor.. you should thank him someday.

✧ We are done, done! Thank you for your time, bubs! Stay tuned for the next, teehee <3

[sunshine-and-raincloud]

she's the weaving road (that'll lead me home)

pairing: bechloe

word count: 1291

AO3 link here

***

Winter has come quietly to Barden, the snow having fallen over the first December night. The white, shimmery stamp of approval marked the beginning of the holiday season in the Bella household. With wide eyes and happy squeals, its occupants eagerly got to work, decorating the house with garlands, wreaths, paper ornaments, and whatever else could be found in the boxes that had been bravely recovered from the basement.

It was now evening and the whole house was bathed in the warm glow of the Christmas lights. The Bellas were sprawled all over the living room, cozy in their fluffy pajamas, about to start their first Christmas movies marathon of the season.

Chloe was sitting at the kitchen table, half-listening to the constant chatter of her fellow sisters coming from the living room as she watched Beca prepare hot cocoa for the both of them. It's been happening more and more lately–Chloe catching herself looking at Beca, a soft smile always present on her lips whenever her best friend was around. She couldn’t help it; Beca was so nice to look at, and Chloe was so in love with her, how could she not look? Especially now that Beca has been single for the past couple of months. Also, Chloe caught Beca looking at her enough times to not feel guilty about her own staring.

Recently, there’s been a subtle shift between them. On the surface, not much has changed, but nowadays, their every interaction seemed to have an undercurrent of something else, something deeper than a close friendship. Gazes and touches lingered, smiles were wider, voices softer. They communicated without words, anticipating each other's needs with an ease born of hours spent at each other’s side. Even the rest of the Bellas seemed to sense the change, as they eased down on their teasing, seemingly waiting with bated breaths for something to finally happen.

As if sensing Chloe’s eyes on her, Beca turned away from the counter, her gaze instantly finding Chloe’s. She sent her an easy smile as she put a mug of steaming cocoa to her lips, taking a careful sip and swallowing with a small, satisfied sigh that sent a shiver down Chloe’s spine. Once Beca lowered the mug, Chloe noticed a brown smudge that the drink left around Beca’s lips.

Her body moved without a conscious command, covering the small distance between them in a few strides, and Chloe blinked in surprise as she found herself standing right in front of Beca, who looked at her with one brow raised in question, amusement shining in her eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“You, um-” Chloe cleared her throat. “You have a little something…” she said, gesturing at her own mouth.

“Oh!” Beca blindly swiped a hand over her face, only smudging the cocoa remnants more.

Chloe giggled softly, raising her hand towards Beca’s face. “Here, let me…”

Gently, Chloe moved her thumb over Beca’s cheek toward her lips. She shivered again as Beca opened her mouth slightly in a quiet exhale. Without thinking, Chloe slowly brought her thumb to her mouth, licking it clean under Beca's intent gaze.

“Did you get it?” Beca’s voice was a bit rough as she whispered the question.

“Almost.”

There it was again, the tension that’s been present in all of their interactions lately, growing more insistent the longer they stayed in each other’s orbits. Beca’s tongue peeking out to absentmindedly lick her own lips proved to be the tipping point. All coherent thoughts have long since left Chloe and she could only act on pure instinct and adrenaline. With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, she slowly, very slowly, leaned in, eyes trained on Beca’s face, looking for any indication that she should back away. Not seeing any, she closed the remaining distance, dragging her tongue over the same spot her thumb has just traced, catching the corner of Beca’s lips and lingering there for a heartbeat or two.

Beca’s soft gasp so close to her ear made Chloe pull away, but she only made it an inch or two before Beca’s hands appeared on both sides of her face, pulling her in for a kiss.

The gentle pressure of Beca's lips on hers was enough to stun Chloe for what was probably only a few seconds but felt so monumental to Chloe that she might as well have lived a lifetime in this tiny pocket of time. She’s wanted this for so long that she could barely believe it was actually finally happening.

Getting over the initial shock, Chloe placed her slightly shaking hand on Beca’s cheek, angling her face to kiss her more fully. She was rewarded with a tiny whimper from Beca, and Chloe might have made some kind of sound in response but she couldn’t be sure, as all of her attention was focused on the girl in her arms, on the softness of her lips, on hands holding onto her desperately, on the divine scent that Chloe couldn’t get enough of. The world might have been ending and Chloe would not care, everything that existed to her in that moment was Beca, Beca, Beca…

Once they eventually managed to separate, Chloe was met with her favorite sight–Beca smiling at her with this wide, radiant smile that seemed to be reserved specifically for Chloe. Beca was looking at her with an expression so tender, so full of what could only be described as love, that it made Chloe’s knees weak.

Needing a moment to ground herself, she lowered her head and focused on regulating her breathing. Beca took this opportunity to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. Chloe closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of warm lips on her skin and the tenderness of the gesture.

It was then that her senses slowly started to pick up the signals from her surroundings and Chloe furrowed her brows in confusion as she heard some peculiar noise that sounded like someone trying to smother a boiling kettle with a pillow, without much success.

Beca must have heard it, too, as they both turned their heads at the same time, looking for the source of the noise.

There, in the kitchen entrance, a mere few feet away from them, stood Emily. She was visibly vibrating with excitement as she tried to muffle the constant stream of high-pitched squeals with one hand, the other flailing about wildly. Noticing that she’s been spotted, she made a few steps back before turning around and all but running to the living room. Chloe could bet that the youngest Bella would be telling the rest of the girls what she’s witnessed as soon as she’s able to form words.

Shaking her head, Chloe turned back to Beca and they shared a bemused look.

“Was she standing there the whole time?” Beca asked.

Chloe hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure… Maybe?”

There was a very real possibility that Emily had been hanging around the kitchen since before Chloe even stood up from the table, she thought. Chloe did have somewhat of a tunnel vision whenever Beca was around. And apparently, Beca had a similar problem.

Beca let out an amused huff, at which Chloe started giggling, and before they knew it, they were both laughing so hard that their eyes teared up. Beca took the half step that had been separating them, wrapping her arms around her and pressing her face in Chloe’s neck. Chloe hugged her closely, burying her nose in Beca’s hair and sighing happily.

These last few years, Choe felt like she’d been living on borrowed time, dreading the moment she would inevitably run out of it. Now, she felt like she had all the time in the world.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

harringrove + christmas tree decorating 🎄✨

Steve’s always had a freshly chopped pine tree in his livingroom - ever since he could remember. His childhood Christmases had always been better than his present ones, filled with warmth and excitement as that 25th day drew closer, and he still tries to keep that feeling alive, even now, at 19.

“C’mooon,” he’d whined as he pulled at Billy’s muscled arm, “It’s tradition! We have to decorate the tree on December 1st!”

It’s his first Christmas with Billy and he’s determined to make it a memorable one.

Billy had rolled his eyes and grumbled about how stupid Christmas was, how it was nothing but consumerism at its worst, but he followed Steve down to the livingroom anyway, where the fresh pine and boxes of ornaments were waiting.

Steve had even put on a Christmas vinyl for the occasion, left at a gentle volume.

It went better than he’d expected, honestly. Billy’s reluctance had melted away the longer they worked. They hung the garland and put up the lights, handing off the cord to each other with every pass around the tree, plugging it into the wall afterwards and Steve even caught a ghost of a smile on Billy’s face as the warm glow of the lights came to life.

And he couldn’t help the way his chest filled with warmth as he watched Billy carefully place the ‘special’ ornaments onto the tree, ensuring they were hung properly before leaving them be.

It made him envision the Christmases to come - the second, the fifth, the tenth. All filled with soft music and hot cocoa and Billy.

Once the tree was decorated, Steve placed the angel on top and pulled Billy close as they admired their work from a few steps back.

“Okay, I’ll admit, it’s nice,” Billy muttered as Steve peppered kisses to his cheek with a grin.

“Thank you for decorating with me,” he whispered against that rough cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of Billy’s pink mouth until his boyfriend got the hint and turned his head to receive a proper kiss.

Billy pulled away with a small smile and stared at him for a moment, full of a certain softness Steve could only call love, before murmuring playfully, “Same time again next year?”