#maybe a shine sound? or like a glimmer or sparkle?

[transgender-catboy]

Oh?! You think you don't get anon haters huh?! Do ya?! DO YA?! Weeeelllll buddy do I have NEWS FOR YOU!!!!

I☝️, an Anon🕶️, Think💭 You're🫵 STINKY🤢

AND CRINGE😬

AND GAY🏳️‍🌈

also I'm not stinky! I showered today!

[cerisereids]

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗔𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗛𝗶𝗺 𝗪𝗮𝘀 𝗠𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗠𝗲- 𝗦.𝗥.

Pairing- early seasons!Spencer Reid x bombshell!Reader

Summary- You’re completely and totally enamored with Spencer Reid. When you have to flirt as part of a case, he is not happy.

Contains- not proofread we die like men, fem!reader, mention of reader's boobs and ass, the most unhinged work place flirting you've ever seen, Spencer is Horny, the case isn't rly canon compliant but fuck it we ball, nasty suspect who reader has to flirt with, Spencer gets insecure, they make-up and make out on the jet

A/N: divider from @saradika-graphics !!!

The soft, golden glow of sunlight filters through the window. The glimmer coats the BAU in an extra layer of warmth from the early spring chill. You adjust your light pink blouse as you approach the desk of your favorite coworker, Spencer Reid. You prop yourself up on his desk, your floral skirt pulling taut around your hips as you settle.

You swing your legs playfully, waiting for him to turn his attention away from his case file and on to you. A small smile curves his lips, and you know you got him. A heeled foot hooks behind his shin, running along the length of it until his gaze finally finds you. His eyes shine when they meet yours, a large hand moving to grip your ankle and bring it to his knee. He keeps it there, a soothing thumb rubbing the expanse of the skin there.

Your heart flutters at the action, his own cheeks tinting pink at his temerity. This has been a recent update between the two of you, Spencer's touch, his affection. Since you started at the bureau, only a few short months after him, you've been fascinated by the genius sitting beneath you now. At first, he was shocked by your immediate friendship, not used to such affection without having to earn it. In the past few months, though, his hands will graze your waist, his hugs lingering a moment too long. This change in behavior sparks a flicker of hope in your chest. Hope that, maybe, he sees you the way you see him.

You see him now, looking up at you with sparkling brown eyes. The early morning light highlights the caramel tone seeping through the dark brown. It captivates you. Your eyes drift down the rest of his face, it's all you can do to not get completely lost in him, in those eyes.

"Whatcha looking at, handsome?" you drawl, sweet as honey as you reach for the case file on his desk.

You can't help the small smile that forms as heat rushes into his face, deepening his complexion a deep red.

"It-" his words catch in his throat, which he clears before continuing, "it's for a potential new case. From Hotch."

His tone is clipped, as if he's forcing himself to sound casual. He does that when he's nervous, you've come to find out. You wonder if the pointed toe heel resting delicately on his knee has anything to do with that. You press the ball of your foot into him playfully, reveling in the way he flushes even deeper.

"Can I see?" you ask lightly, tilting your head and pouting your lips, "I want to see if it's the one I passed along to him on Monday. I still haven't heard back from him about it."

You hop down from his desk, grabbing the chair adjacent from his desk. Maybe you pull it a little too close to his chair, but you can't seem to care too much once his bicep grazes your own. The smallest touch sends shock waves through you, a surge of electricity pumping straight to your heart.

You hear his breath pick up as you reach across his lap to grab the file. A small smile spreads across your lips as Spencer nods his head frantically, long, deft fingers passing the file to you.

"Yeah-yeah, I think it is. The white collar case on Cape Cod, right?" he asks, and you nod.

"Yeah, he wanted you to look at it?" you look towards him with bright eyes, hopeful. "I wasn't sure he'd be okay with us picking this one up. It's not really something we normally cover, but I have a feeling about it. Something's not right..." you trail off, scanning the details once more.

"I agree," he says, and it's almost laughable how relieved you feel at his approval. "I couldn't help but notice the fraud charge. They wired the money to an account in Germany. If this crosses country lines then we might be dealing with something more than just fraud."

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" your fingers latch onto his forearm in excitement. His eyes flash to your touch, his breath catching again.

Your eyes linger on his face, tracing each freckle of his smooth skin. His eyes flit up to yours, and the contact stops time. Everything around you comes to a standstill, you and Spencer are the only ones that exist in this moment.

A tap of a manila folder snaps you out of your Spencer-induced-haze, cheeks heating as you look up to find Hotch. A knowing look glimmers in his eye, and you twist your hands in your lap.

"Get ready to leave for Cape Cod," is all he says, tone definitive before he goes to brief the rest of the team.

Spencer's heart clutches in his chest as they exit the plane, right onto a coastal beach. She's dressed for the occasion, an airy, floral sundress ebbing and flowing around her gorgeous figure. He shoves his hands in his pockets, willing his gaze to focus anywhere else. He finds solace in his Converse, the way they squish against the sand deters him from the way her dress dips lower at the chest.

He shakes his head, as if to rid himself of the thought, as guilt creeps into the pit of his stomach. He's been fighting these feelings ever since she joined the bureau. The magnetic pull she has on him, the grip of want clutching his heart, his lungs, until he can barely breathe. As always, she saddles up next to him, as if she knew she's on his mind. She's always on his mind.

A mix of coconut and chemicals fill his nostrils, her sunscreen infiltrating all his senses. Her bare arm grazes against his, her proximity nearly suffocating. He'd rather die than move away from her, though.

They're assigned the same task, analyzing the letters sent to and from various money launderers. She's bent at the waist, palms flat against the white folding table set up on the beach. Hormones rage through him, he feels like a perverse teenager, but the way she pops her hip out nearly gives him a heart attack.

His arm lifts, almost involuntarily, his hand lightly grazing her elbow as he makes his presence known. He revels in the way her eyes light up as they find him, her hand finding his shoulder. He feels dizzy when she gives it a light squeeze, the prettiest smile painting her glossy lips.

"What have you found?" he ponders. She raises her brow at him.

"We've been here for not even five minutes. How do you know I've found something?" she inquires. A light chuckle escapes his lips, his eyes finding the letters she's been scanning.

"You have that crease in your brow when you know something," he mentions softly, her smile widening. "What is it?"

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, the plump flesh ever so tempting. She's so beautiful when she works, it takes his breath away.

"This. Look at this sentence, here," she points about halfway through an old, crinkled letter. It catches his eye immediately.

"'It's been handled. There's nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.' What do you make of that?" he asks, though he has some theories himself.

"A partnership. It almost seems romantic, 'pretty little head'," she repeats, "it's almost flirtatious. Like he wants to take care of the partner, man or woman."

Spencer has no idea how the perfect combination of beauty and brains found him, of all people, but God, is he thankful.

"I agree, nice work," he smiles at her, and he revels in the way she preens at his praise. The sun coats her skin, and the natural light makes her shimmer like an angel.

"Thanks, Spence," she nudges his shoulder with hers, and his cheeks heat. It's not from the sun.

An arrest is made not long after they touch down- a 25 year old manager of a local golf club. He's a broad, muscly type, the kind of guy that's always made Spencer feel smaller, less-than. He sees it. The moment he clocks her. It makes him sick.

He's handcuffed, Hotch dragging him along the beach to the interrogation space. On his way there, his eyes lock on the girl right next to him. Acidic bile rises in his throat as his eyes scan up and down, sizing her up like a lamb for slaughter.

Hotch approaches them a few minutes later, his gaze directed at her.

"He says he'll only talk to you. He wants 'the pretty one'," Hotch informs. A shiver unzips Spencer's spine at that, the sick feeling from earlier creeping up his throat once again. He can't help but link his pinkie finger through hers, a reassuring gesture that she's more than this.

Hotch leans closer, his voice a low timbre. "Between us, this guy is a bona fide creep. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

A wave of relief rushes through Spencer at this, though his stomach drops when she removes her pinkie from his. He sees her straighten her spine in his peripheral, and his head snaps up to look at her. He knows the second he sees her. She's going to do it.

"No," she says to Hotch, almost defiant, "I can do it. I want to help in any way I can."

Hotch studies her for a moment, his brow furrowing in a concern Spencer shares. He nods tersely, and Spencer knows fighting this is a lost cause.

"Alright, let's go," Hotch says lowly, letting her go before both of them.

Spencer follows. It's against his better judgement, he knows he'd probably be of better use elsewhere. He can't let her go in alone, though. Not even if he tried.

Your heart is thumping in your chest, your blood thrumming in your veins as you near the interrogation room. Spencer's behind you the whole time, you can tell. A tiny flame of hope flickers in your chest as he stands at the glass, a white knuckle grip on the table beneath him.

You make eye contact with him one last time before opening the door. You see the restraint in his big brown eyes, how badly he wants to tell you to not go in. You take a deep breath and open the door anyway.

A sickly feeling creeps its way into your stomach, acid bubbling in the deepest part of you. You watch as he sizes you up, his gaze lingering a little too long on your chest. You're used to this, to men treating you like a piece of meat. It never gets easier, but you find a small bit of comfort in the fact that you're helping your team. So, you plaster your sweetest smile, falling into the role that's expected of you.

"Hi! How are you doing? Uncomfortable?" you pout your glossy lips, tone sickly sweet as you perch on the edge of the table. His eyes linger on your ass, the fat of it emphasized by your weight on the table. You arch your back slightly. You know you look good, you decide to lean into it instead of focusing on the man in front of you.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" he asks, sarcasm lacing his tone as he rattles his cuffs. "You help, though."

Your stomach churns, but your smile never falters. Your experience with men like this isn't foreign to you. You know every button you need to push.

"Yeah?" you drawl, your manicured nails crawling to his forearm, resting gingerly there. "Anything I can get you? Food? Water?" you bat your lashes sweetly. The glint in his eye reeks of objectification, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Get me a cheeseburger and fries from Louie's. Oh- and a chocolate milkshake, cherry on top," he winks at that last line. You pity him for how proud he seems of it.

You place a hand on his forearm, leaning in so your face is parallel with his. You watch his eyes flit down to your chest, now even more exposed in your position.

"You got it," your tone is saccharine, your nails dragging lightly against his arm as you stand to leave. You make sure to sway your hips a little extra as you leave, looking over your shoulder one more time before opening the door.

You exit the interrogation room to the shocked expressions of your team members, most are impressed, others in pure shock. You catch Spencer, though, and it doesn't take a genius to see the incredulous expression on his face. His brows furrowed, a pout hanging low on his lips.

"Way to work it, honey," Morgan claps you on the back. Hotch nods his agreement.

Pride swells in your belly at their praise. You can't shake Spencer's lack of enthusiasm, though. His inability to look you in the eye sparks a flame of disappointment, blazing through the content you felt just moments before.

You weave your way through the small room, linking your fingers around Spencer's wrist and pulling him out into the precinct. He still can't look at you.

"Spencer, what's wrong?" you're not really sure where to start. You hope this gets him talking.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," his voice is high pitched in the way that it does when he's lying. "I just- I can't watch you put yourself on display for someone that looks at you like a piece of meat! Is that just your natural state? Since it clearly comes so easily to you."

He mumbles the last part under his breath, and it shocks you into silence. Frustration flares in your chest, spreading like wildfire from head to toe.

"You don't have to watch, then, Spencer," you spit out his name, and he flinches at your tone. "I'm trying to help our team solve this case. If you can't watch, then maybe your skills would be used better somewhere else."

You stalk off, hurt piercing through every nerve in your body. You wiggle your fingers, stretching your neck side to side as you try to shake off the feeling. It finds its way back to you, no matter what you do, rising like bile up your throat.

You open the door back to the interrogation room, watching the man behind the glass eat his food without a care in the world. You stew for a moment, letting yourself sit in the hurt, the anger. You decide to let it fuel you.

You reach your hands into your dress, pushing your boobs up so they rest perkily above the neckline. You turn to Hotch, who looks like he regrets the day he was born, fire blazing in your eye.

"I can crack him," you say assuredly. Hotch nods in response, and you turn the knob to the interrogation room.

Spencer can't help but find his way back into the interrogation room. He sits in the back, behind Hotch and Morgan, back hunched, arms crossed over his chest. His brows are furrowed, the pout on his lips everlasting.

Guilt boils in his stomach as she saunters back in the room. The way his eyes light up when he sees her makes Spencer physically ill. He clears his throat uncomfortably, which causes Derek's head to cross over his shoulder, finding Spencer immediately.

Spencer shrinks into himself even more as Derek moves to join him at the back table. They sit for a moment, watching as she bends over the table at the waist, popping her hip out in a way that's sinful. Spencer bites his lip, completely giving up on hiding his feelings from Derek. He figured him out months ago.

"The way I spoke to her, Derek..." Spencer trails off shamefully. He shakes his head, unable to look at her without feeling nauseous.

"She's going to forgive you. She just needs to know you're coming from a place of concern, not judgement," Derek says, his poignancy grating Spencer's nerves even further. How dare he have such good judgement?

"How do you know she'll forgive me?" Spencer murmurs. He can't remember the last time he sounded so weak.

"Because I know," his certainty draws Spencer's gaze up to meet Morgan's. They sit in loaded silence, the only sound cutting through is her saccharine tone from the other side of the glass. It churns in Spencer's stomach like bad milk.

Derek moves back to where he was before, next to Hotch at the glass window. It's then that Spencer finally wills himself to look at her. She's got her hands on her hips, all her weight resting on one foot in a way that highlights her figure. She flips her hair, and the suspect is completely drawn to her.

"You're a smart guy, I can just tell..." she croons, moving closer towards him, "but being smart doesn't mean you can hide from me, you know?"

The suspect blushes at this, though a smug smirk paints his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about, baby. I didn't do anything."

Spencer white knuckles the table beneath him. It's all he can do to not go in there and wipe that smile right off his face.

"I know you're not used to pretty girls pushing back. Most of them just fall for that smile, huh?" her voice is lower, more intimate, as a nail traces the shape of his lip.

The suspect tenses then, turning his gaze down to his hands. Spencer sits up at this, adrenaline striking him at the suspect's discomfort.

"I...I didn't do anything. I swear," the suspect emphasizes that last part, and Spencer knows she's got him.

"You really think I'm going to let you get away with that answer, when I know the truth?" she's resting on the table now, her hip delicately perched just inches away from the suspect. "It's okay to let go, you know," a nail lightly grazes up his arm. He shivers. "You've lost control already, haven't you?"

The last question comes out as a whisper. The suspect jolts away from her, the legs of his chair scraping the floor.

"I didn't mean for it to go this far, okay?" the suspect exclaims. Spencer stands fully upright now, moving to stand in-between Hotch and Morgan.

"She's got him," Morgan mumbles, and Spencer's chest swells with pride.

"But it did go that far, didn’t it? And now you’re here. You can’t run anymore. What happened that night? I’m right here. You can tell me," she's batting her eyelashes, yet venom laces her tone.

"It was just supposed to be money laundering. They told me I'd be making seven figures if I did. That's all I wanted. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," he groans, head falling back.

Spencer, Hotch, and Morgan all exchange weary looks, brows raised in surprise. Pride blossoms in his chest like an early spring flower, his cheeks warming at the sight of his best friend. He's so, so proud of her. He was such an ass earlier. He'll spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

Her head tilts to the side, a faux pout painting her lips. She pats his shoulder definitively before standing.

"Thanks, babe," her tone is sarcastic now, and she winks before leaving the room.

She's caught off guard to see Spencer there, stopping in the doorway just briefly before closing it behind her. The pride swelling in his chest dissipates to that boiling guilt from before, bubbling deep in his stomach.

"Good work," Hotch nods at her, a prideful smile on her lips, "Morgan, have Garcia research any connections to our unsub. He said 'they', we may be looking for a team."

Hotch follows Morgan out, and he's left alone with her now. It dawns on him that he's never been speechless with her before. She's always made him feel comfortable expressing whatever's on his mind. Now, as her eyes gleam with hurt, he doesn't think he's earned that right.

"You did it," he breathes. He gets a heavy scoff in response.

"I knew I would, since it comes so naturally, I thought why not lean into it?" her venomous tone pierces through his heart as she walks past him. She pats his shoulder the same way she did with the unsub, is skin aflame at the contact, even though she's mad at him.

A wine glass is perched between your fingers as you curl up on the jet. It's a celebratory drink, insisted by Morgan for your involvement in solving the case. You look out the window to the setting sun over the coast, the sparkling water. You take a deep breath before taking a long sip.

It's not soon after you take off that night falls, your teammates falling asleep in waves. One certain member hasn't, though. You feel Spencer's eyes on you as you make your way to the back of the jet, spilling out the remaining contents of your glass in the small sink at the bar.

You relent on your way back, the blaring anger you felt earlier dulled to a hum of frustration. He looks tired, vulnerable in his current state, curled up on the couch of the jet. You crouch in front of him, a delicate hand perched on his shoulder. His eyes meet yours in record time, regret flashing through them almost immediately.

Your heart aches, as if two large hands are squeezing as hard as they can. You've missed him. It doesn't feel right to celebrate your win without him. You push back a strand of hair that's fallen in front of his eye, and they gleam at your touch. You can't help but smile at his softness.

"Spence..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"I'm so, so sorry, honey," the words burst out of him. Your heart clutches at the pet name.

"It's okay," you smile meekly, but your acceptance is sincere all the same.

"No. No, it's not," he says as he sits up, facing you properly now. "I should have never said what I did, it was-it was awful of me. I never want to make you feel like that again."

"Why did you say it, Spencer?" you inquire, the breath robbed from your lungs, "it was so unlike you. It hurt, but it caught me by surprise more than anything."

His eyes squeeze shut at the confirmation that he'd hurt you, and you rest a delicate palm on his forearm. A sincere gesture now, compared to the hollow touches you'd doled out earlier.

"Spencer, I want you to talk to me," you whisper, and he shudders at the softness in your voice. You know he thinks he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

"That guy, the way he looked at you, he looks nothing like me..." he trails off, and it clicks in your brain.

He wasn't mad at you for flirting, he was scared you were leading him on. That he wasn't as important as a guy who looked like that.

"Oh, Spence..." you can't help yourself, you plop right in his lap. You pull his neck into your shoulder, a deep hug as he breathes shakily.

"You're just so beautiful, any guy like that could have you. Yet you pay attention to me. Why?" he pulls back and looks up at you, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"Spencer, for one, that guy is being charged with fraud and murder in the first degree. Don't compare yourself to him," a teasing lilt laces your tone, and he groans playfully into your neck.

You cradle him for a moment, and can't help but notice how normal this feels, how right it is to be with him in this way. You're so in love with him. You have been ever since you first met him, and you need him to know.

"Spencer, you don't give yourself enough credit for how hot you really are," you smirk. He scoffs at that, an involuntary noise that almost wakes up the whole jet.

"Shhh!" you giggle, nails scraping the back of his scalp. You watch the way he shudders at the action, you give him another little scratch before continuing.

"You're so beautiful, Spencer," you cup his cheeks, pressing your forehead into his. "I'm sorry you don't see it."

"Do you see it?" he asks, and you know what he really means. Do you really love me? Or are you just being kind?

"Of course I do, Spencer. I see your kind eyes, your full lips, your hands..." you trail off, finding his hand splayed on your back. You grab it, putting your palm flat against his.

"My-my hands?" he laughs out in disbelief. His cheeks are tinted pink, and you don't think you've ever wanted anyone this bad in your entire life.

You nod. "Yeah, your hands, Spence. They're huge," you lace your fingers together then, and he shudders at the touch.

"But it's not only what's on the outside, though I do enjoy it so very much," he blushes even more profusely. You never want him to stop. "Your heart, Spence. It's so kind, and loving, and forgiving, I'm sorry you don't see yourself as enough. I'll spend as much time as you'll let me proving you wrong."

He looks you in the eye, then. His brows furrowed, lips pouted. The air between you thickens in the silence, your chests move up and down in time together.

"I love you," you whisper, and the shuddering breath that leaves Spencer's lips makes you want to cry.

He buries his face in your neck once more, the heat from his still-red cheeks radiating off of him.

"Oh, angel. I love you, too. I'm so sorry. I love you, I don't deserve you-"

You cut his rambling off with the sweetest kiss to his lips. He groans into it, pulling you closer into him with his hands.

"This dress, honey. I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all day," he whispers in between kisses.

You let out the smallest whimper at that, the thought of driving him crazy just from your outfit giving you a confidence boost for the ages.

"Yeah?" you ask playfully, moving his hand to rest against a bare spot on your thigh. He looks up at you, submission gleaming in his eye as he nods.

You could just destroy him.

"If you guys start to hook up on this jet, I'm snitching," you and Spencer both jump at the voice coming from behind.

It's Morgan, sitting awake amongst the rest of the sleeping team. Your heart pounds from the shock, though a smile still splays across your face. Spencer looks the same, flushed but content, his cheeks bunching up around his eyes.

"It is about time. We've had a running pool throughout the whole office over who was gonna cave first. Looks like I'm getting a cut, thanks, pretty girl," Derek ruffles your hair as he walks past, going to make himself a coffee at the bar.

"Morgan!" Spencer whines, his head falling back against the couch.

You giggle, too in love to care that you were caught. You snake your arms around his neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"We'll finish what we started when we get home," you're seductive in your tone, and you can tell you're successful from the goosebumps rising on his flesh.

He shivers as you move off his lap, settling into his side as you begin to descend on Quantico. A flight home has never felt so long.

[aventurineswife]

hear me out, aventurine wraps himself up in ribbons or something (with help ofc (how is he supposed to tie himself in ribbons by himself)) for reader, for christmas

i just had this thought bc of your status thing :3

hes the only present we will ever need :3

I WANT AVENTURINE TO BE A REAL PERSON SO I CAN LOVE AND SPOIL HIM😭

(maybe it's also bc i wanna wrap myself up as aventurines christmas present.. BUT NOT IN THAT WAY)

-:3 anon

The Greatest Present Awaits You

Summary: As Christmas approaches, Aventurine decides to surprise you with the most unique gift he can think of—himself, wrapped in silk ribbons and nestled beneath the tree. His charm and flamboyant flair shine through as he turns an ordinary holiday into an unforgettable evening. But the question remains: will you unwrap the greatest gamble of the season?

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Winter Special, Playful Banter, Gift-Giving, Suggestive Undertones, Wrapped-Up Present, Over-the-Top Gestures, Flirty and Fun Dynamic.

Warnings: Mild Suggestiveness (by the end), Mischievous Behavior(it's Aventurine we are talking about💀).

A/N: Funny thing is, I had something planned like this for other characters on Christmas but I lost motivation to write all of them so whoops🫣🤧

Snow cascaded gently outside the frosted windows, cloaking the world in a serene white. Inside, the room was warm and filled with the glow of the crackling fire and the twinkle of fairy lights. The towering Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its branches adorned with ornaments, garlands, and a star shining atop it. Beneath it sat an array of presents, but one, in particular, stood out—a large, expertly wrapped box with shimmering green and gold paper.

The evening had been calm, but you noticed Aventurine's absence more acutely as the hours ticked by. He had been unusually secretive for the past few days, dodging your questions with a mischievous grin and cryptic remarks about “the ultimate gamble of the season.” It wasn’t unusual for him to keep you guessing, but tonight, the suspense felt deliberate.

As you approached the oversized gift by the tree, a soft laugh echoed inside the gift.

“Ah, my dear, I see your curiosity is as keen as ever,” Aventurine’s voice purred.

Turning toward the sound, you were met with his signature smirk and sparkling eyes peeking out from inside the box. His tousled hair shimmered in the light, and his presence alone was enough to quicken your heartbeat.

“I had some help preparing this,” he said, his tone teasing. “And I promise, it’s a gift you’ll treasure.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion until he gestured toward the box. “Open it.” he urged, his smile widening with barely contained amusement.

Kneeling by the tree, you carefully untied the golden bow and peeled back the wrapping paper. The box opened with an exaggerated flourish, revealing a sight that took your breath away.

Aventurine sat inside, wrapped in vibrant red and green silk ribbons, his arms crossed casually over his chest. The ends of the ribbons formed an intricate bow around his neck, and his white trousers were tucked neatly under the glimmering coils. His blazer was nowhere in sight, leaving his spade-cut shirt to reveal glimpses of his toned chest beneath the crisscrossing ribbons.

“Well?” he drawled, leaning forward slightly with an amused gleam in his eye. “Am I everything you hoped for this Christmas?”

You blinked, stunned, before laughter bubbled out of you. “Aventurine, what—”

“Ah, ah,” he interrupted, holding up a ribbon-bound finger. “Don’t ruin the moment, darling. You see, I’ve been thinking. This year, I wanted to give you something truly irreplaceable. And, well...” He spread his arms in a theatrical gesture. “I am rather one of a kind, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your laughter softened into a fond smile as you reached out, gently tugging on one of the ribbons wrapped around his wrist. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening. “Now, I must confess, getting wrapped up like this was no small feat. It took several attempts and a very patient co-worker of mine. But for you, my dear, no gamble is too great.”

He leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. “Of course,” he added, his voice dipping into a suggestive murmur, “unwrapping me is entirely up to you. Take your time—or don’t. The choice is yours.”

Your cheeks warmed at his tone, but the twinkle in his eye revealed his playful intentions. It was classic Aventurine—charming, ostentatious, and utterly devoted to making you smile.

“Well,” you said, matching his smirk with one of your own as you tugged on another ribbon, “I suppose I should see if this gift is as ‘irreplaceable’ as you claim.”

“Careful, darling,” he murmured, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “The best surprises are always at the end.”

And as the ribbons began to unravel, Aventurine’s smile remained as enigmatic and captivating as ever—a gambler who had staked it all on this moment, and somehow, against all odds, had won once again.

[paperclip-skz]

I think I Fell in Love

A continuation of Deep Talk

fem*Reader x Changbin

*WARNING*

WC: 2.6

Contains: oral (F receiving), over-clothes stimulation, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex (don't), rough dom, nicknames; I'm sure I missed something

Deep Talk

Two days had passed—two restless days since you had seen Changbin.  

You both didn’t sleep together after that night. You both got really close, but something in him snapped and he stopped before things progressed any further. Even though you desperately wanted him, you respected that he wanted to wait, and he left only a few moments after the fact. 

You tried texting, calling, and even reaching out to his flatmate just to make sure he was okay. You both never went a day without at least texting each other a few times; it felt strange, almost like he was ignoring you.

The pang in your heart felt like a bat against glass. You hated the thought that he might regret a single moment of what you two shared. Maybe you went too fast, or he didn’t feel the same, or he realized something about you that made him turn away, and your head spun. 

You walk into work on a glorious Monday. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, but you are the very essence of doom and gloom. You nod at your coworkers as you make your way to your desk when a friend stops you in your tracks. It’s the new intern—what was his name? Jinnie? Hyunjie?

“Hey, Y/N!” he says with a smile that reaches his eyes. He’s quite pretty, you think, his buzz-cut blonde hair shining in the light.

“Hey… you,” you respond with a smile.

“Hyunjin,” he says with a knowing smile. He’s only been around for a week. You sigh with an apologetic relief. “There’s something on your desk,” he winks.

Your brows furrow in curiosity. What could it be? With quick steps, you make your way over to your little desk and see something that makes your breath hitch.

Right next to your computer, glimmering in the light and brightening your entire cramped space, is a small vase of bright white calla lilies—your favorite. In front of it sits a small note.

I can't stop thinking about what happened, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to apologize for how I acted, in person. How about dinner at my place tonight at 7? I want to make it up to you—just the two of us.

You could almost hear him whispering those tantalizing words, his voice wrapping around your ears like a warm embrace. The note. The flowers. It all made your heart swell, and the ping of anticipation made your whole body come alive. You couldn’t wait for dinner. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was coming at seven. She had to be. You wouldn’t stand him up…right? 

His head snapped to the door, the sound slicing through the ambient noise of sizzling meat and crackling flames on the grill. That little knock, soft yet distinct, was one he recognized instantly, and it sent a jolt of electricity through him. Eagerly, he strode to the door, the aroma of spices mingling with the rich, savory scent of the meat wafting through the air, teasing his senses.

As he opened the door, a broad smile spread across his face, radiating warmth and welcome. But the instant his eyes landed on you, that smile faltered, replaced by a look of awe. You were stunning, a vision in his favorite dress—one he had lovingly helped you choose. 

He couldn’t shake the memory of you stepping out of the dressing room, a nervous excitement dancing in your eyes. The deep, luxurious red velvet clung to your figure, wrapping itself around your waist in the most flattering way, making your curves all the more enchanting. The skirt flared gracefully just above your knees, giving it a playful bounce with each movement. 

The dress sparkled under the soft light as if it had been kissed by the stars, while the delicate pink roses woven throughout the fabric added an element of charm; they danced along the hem and brought an air of innocence with the dress’s alluring design. As he stood there, captivated, his heart raced, and he felt a wave of admiration wash over him. You looked like a dream, the kind of dream he never wanted to wake from. Yet, despite the overwhelming urge to express how breathtaking you were, he kept those words locked away, choosing instead to let his eyes convey the depth of his wonder.

He could sense you getting nervous from his stare; he had to say something, do something. “Um-” he stuttered, his palms becoming oddly sweaty. “You look” he gestured to the dress, but all he could let out was a sigh and a small smile. 

“I look?” he nodded to the dress.

“Breathtaking” Suddenly, the memory of your lips against his came rushing back his hands clenched at his sides; he could still feel how your tongue swirled around his cock like you were devouring him; he itched to touch you. Not yet, not yet, he chanted to himself. 

You smiled, a blush that couldn’t be hidden by make-up adorned your cheeks. He stepped aside to let you in. 

You stepped into his apartment, smelling the irresistible smell of cooking meat. “My god, that smells amazing,” you groaned, and Changbin had to physically stop himself from moaning. He wanted to make you groan again. He wanted to make you moan…

“Have a seat, I’ll serve you a plate,” he said. 

And he did just. You both ate and talked about each other's day, not yet venturing into the topic you both were dying to discuss. He didn’t want to ruin the moment just yet; he wanted to hear your laugh. 

He waited as long as he could until he got up to take your dirty plates away. The laughter in the room was draining. “Bin,” you say. Your voice soft. “Can we talk about the other night?” 

His smile faded, and his shoulders slumped. He nodded as he set the plates in the sink. Then, he rounded the corner, leaning his back against the counter to steady himself and look you in the eye. 

You looked so hurt. So worried about what he was going to do. “I’m sorry I ran out the other night. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve-”

“Not if you were uncomfortable. I won’t be mad at you for not wanting to sleep with me. That’s okay. I just want to know why?” 

Your words leave him breathless. Thats what you're worried about? Him not wanting to have sex with you? That’s what had your mind spinning? My god, he royally fucked up. “No, no, no. thats not- shit” he rakes his hand through his hair. 

You step out of your chair, making the move to comfort him, reaching out a hand. You touch his shoulders, trying anything to ease his stress. Your touch is so soft and gentle. This isn’t right; he’ll ruin you. 

“What's wrong? Talk to me, Binnie, please,” you're begging. My god, you're begging him. He’s going to lose the last bit of control he has. 

“It's not that I didn’t want to have sex with you. You don’t know how badly I want to take you to my bedroom right now and show you just how badly I want to fuck you into next week.” he pauses, and your eyes go wide. “But,” he holds your shoulders, “You're the one girl I’ve always wanted to do right by; I didn’t want to take you to bed without a proper date and ask you the proper question first. It was bad enough I took advantage of you that night; I didn’t- I didn’t want it just to end. I didn’t want to lose you.” 

His chest heaves with each breath. It's out. Everything he wanted to say, you know now. But you don’t say anything; you stare at him like he’s growing another head. He’s shrinking under your stare. " Say something,” he demands. 

Your mouth moves to say something, but nothing but a sigh leaves your lips. “I knew it.” his eyes bruns with the threat of tears. “I knew you wouldn’t feel the same.” 

His head hurts. He’s holding all his strength so tears don’t fall, and his whole body aches to be held. He’s so engrossed by his dooming thoughts that he doesn’t see the surprise on your face or how your eyes go wide with the realization that he’s shutting down. 

Suddenly, you grab hold of his face with both hands and slam your lips against his. Both of you pour every bit of emotion into that kiss. Your lips move along one another, saying a hidden sentence. Changbin holds the back of your head, deepening the kiss, demanding entrance past the barrier of your lips. 

Changbin takes complete control, gripping you like you might vanish before him. You swing your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. You pull away for a breath, staring in Changbin’s eyes, tears glassing over your vision. “I’ve loved you from the day I met you. That night you kissed me was the best night of my life. I never wanted it to end.” 

His piercing gaze travels from your eyes to your lips, sweeping over your entire face as if he had just experienced a surge of adrenaline. Your smile—the one that lights up the room—makes his heart shatter into a million blissful fragments. It’s that radiant smile that he treasures above all else, a beacon of joy in his life. Your eyes twinkle like stars caught in a clear night sky, and the intoxicating scent that clings to you drives him to the brink of madness, awakening a whirlwind of desire within him, but he could watch you smile all day and not complain. He would watch you smile because you didn’t want this end, this want’ going to end. He was going to keep that smile on your face for as long as he could draw a single breath.

He kisses you one more time, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around in his hold. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. “Then why don’t we pick up where we left off, hm?” he smirks. 

…..

Heat bubbles in the pit of your stomach, twisting a turning, a sheer excitement that you can’t ignore. Changbin carried you all the way to his bed, the dirty dishes forgotten. 

With a gentle fall, he threw you onto the bed. Your arms flying above your head. Your dress rode higher on your thighs, exposing a sheer piece of lacy fabric between your legs. You could visibility see Changbins eyes darken. 

“I want you laid out like my own personal feast,” he growled. Then he pounced. He braced himself on either side of you, ravishing your lips, then your neck, leaving love bites in his wake. Your hands flew to anything you could grab: his hair, his arms, his waist, desperately trying to cling to him in any way. 

Changbin’s kisses trail lower and lower until he kisses the inside of your thigh. He lifts the skirt of your dress, revealing the lacy material you wore just for him. He kisses the fabric, the light touch making your whole body shiver. “Binnie”, you moan, itching to touch him.

“Shh, shh, let me take care of my pretty girl,” he says, his hot breath making you clench. His words didn’t go unnoticed. The idea that you were now “his girl,” that you are his and he is yours, made your whole body sing with a new desire. 

Changbin hooks his fingers around the apex of the fabric, pulling it to the side to reveal your soaking sex. The first lick of Changbin’s tongue sent you reeling, feeling the burning firelight. He moaned in approval as he saw your body arch in pleasure. His hands slid to your thighs and then to your waist, pinning you in place. Your hands searched for anything to grab hold of; they started in his hair, pulling him closer to you as his tongue plunged deeper inside you; then they searched for the edge of the bed to grip the edge of the world that you were very near to falling off of. 

He licked and kissed, alternating between your folds, your clit, and the inside of your walls. The noises you let out were pure animalistic, and he showed his undying approval with a sheer determination to send you barreling over the edge. 

His fingers joined in, moving in tandem with his tongue. He kept a consistent motion, his tongue twirling your bud like he was playing with candy while his fingers pumped inside. It was all too much. Your whole body caved in on itself as you felt your climax shudder through you. 

“Bin,” you rasped. 

You needed him. Now. 

He stood up from the edge of the bed, your body panting along with his breaths. “Your mine” he whispered to himself, but your whole body scattered in goosebumps, and that burning desire returned to the pit of your stomach. 

Without delay, you hurriedly pulled the dress over your head and threw it across the room to a neglected corner. Meanwhile, Changbin began unbuttoning his pants and tossed his shirt off. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Broad shoulders with defined muscled arms. Thighs so strong it was no wonder he could pick you up so easily, and the prominent length between those thighs…..you wanted him. You needed him. You didn’t care if it was up against a wall or on the kitchen counter; you needed him. 

He collapsed on top of you, bracing himself and crashing his lips to yours. The kiss, open and passionate, a mix of teeth and tongues in a beautiful symphony. You locked your legs around his waist,t pulling him closer. You hiss as his tip slid against your sensitive bud. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers which sends chills against your bones. He nudged at your entrance and finally slid in…and in….and in. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and thoughts and words died before they could form. He started slow, deliberate, delicate. You clawed at his back until you were sure marks would appear in the morning. His face contorted into a mix of pain and pleasure; he was holding back, and you knew it. “Please, Bin,” you begged. 

“Say it,” he pleaded. You knew what he meant. 

“I’m yours,” you said, gripping his bicep and moving your hips in tandem with his thrusts. “I’m yours,” you repeated. Again, he pulled out only to connect with your hips. Again. Again. “I’m yours,” you moaned loudly as his thrusts were faster, deeper. 

“You're mine. And I’m yours,” he whispered against your ear. Release ripped through your body with one final thrust, shaking your entire beginning. Changbin groaned as he felt you clench around his length, and then you felt him twitch inside you. 

…..

The soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on the disheveled sheets that tangled around you both. The world outside felt distant, fading into a gentle background hum. The only sounds in the room were the rhythmic breath you shared and the occasional soft sigh that slipped from your lips.

With a tender touch, Changbin brushed a wayward strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering against your skin for just a moment longer. His gaze was earnest, filled with something that made your heart flutter and your stomach twists with anticipation. “I think I fell in love with you,” he confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You met his penetrating gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. “I think I fell in love with you, too.”

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THEIR FAVORITE BODYPART OF YOURS…

fandom. honkai star rail

pairing. blade, dan heng, gepard, jing yuan, sampo, welt x fem!reader

content warnings. nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, heavy focus on bodypart for each character, mentions of oral, vaginal and unprotected sex, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.5k

notes. have this until i'm done with my other stuff ;-;

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ your eyes. [gepard]

he noticed them the moment he saw you. eyes wide in wonder, sparkling the moment you notice something of your interest— your eyes are truly the windows to your soul, leaving you bare before him. they shine with innocence and curiosity, something twisted in him wishes to corrupt. he wishes you would always look at him like this, eyes wide, with wonder, with love, with lust. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ your hands. [welt]

he always seems to be staring at them, your hands so much smaller than his, fingers dainty and skin untouched by hard labor or any injuries. you take care of them, your fingernails are always manicured, clean and shortly cut— something he approves of. he loves to trace mindless shapes on the back of your hands, kiss your fingertips, but he especially loves it when you wrap your soft hands around his cock, making him pant and moan with simple strokes. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ your mouth. [blade]

blade loves your mouth, running filthy with spitting insults and sassy remarks. he loves your mouth, those pouty lips when you don’t get what you want. he especially loves it when your mouth is full with his dick, lips stretched and shining with your spit. but what he loves the most are the sounds you make, gasps and moans when he fucks you stupid and choked whimpers when you try to take more than you actually can. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ your titts. [jing yuan]

he’s your typical boobs man. eyes dark when his hands always search for your breasts, fingers tweaking your sensitive nipples. jing yuan is mean about it, whispering filthy things, while you try not to show a reaction to his needy hands. but you fail every time, he just knows you too well. knows what he has to do, so you end up shaking beneath him— so he can admire your beautiful titts. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ your ass. [sampo]

he’s your typical ass man, absolutely obsessed with how the fat feels beneath his hand, no matter if he’s a bit rougher and slaps you, or simply lets his hands rest there. he praises you, running his mouth filthy, all while taking you from behind, eyes fixed on your ass— completely and utterly obsessed, and so proud that he can call you his (and of course your magnificent ass-)

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ your pussy. [dan heng]

there is something primal about dan heng the moment he sees your pussy bare. maybe it’s his instincts, screaming at him how he has to stuff you full, with his tongue, fingers, cock and cum. but maybe it’s just because your pussy is so pretty, glistening and glimmering under his attention, fluttering when you come with a choked moan. 

taglist. @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @verxsyon , @auraxins , @lupicalbestwolf

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[ahqkas]

I have like a supernatural request and I’m obsessed with mermaids…LIKE 😕 but I would like to request something where mattheo is by a lake. He heard a lot about how there’s a Hogwarts mermaid by this lake. But she only comes out at night. Reader’s scales are so beautiful and it makes him memorized and he starts to sneak out a lot to see her.

-🦋anon

PRECIOUS LIKE THOSE PEARLS ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE BLACK LAKE WAS CALM AND STILL UNDER THE PALE LIGHT OF THE CRESCENT MOON. Mattheo Riddle stood at the water's edge, his eyes scanning the dark surface, hoping for a glimpse of the creature he'd heard whispers about. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. He'd been coming here every night for the past week, driven by curiosity and a strange, unexplainable pull. Something must be in this lake.

Tonight, however, felt different. The usual silence of the lake seemed charged with an interesting energy. As he stood there, he noticed a faint shimmer beneath the water, a glimmer that was neither a reflection of the moon nor a trick of the light. His heart quickened as he took a step closer.

Suddenly, the water's surface broke, and a figure emerged. You were breathtaking, with scales that glimmered like precious jewels in the moonlight. They ranged from deep emerald green to a soft, iridescent blue, shifting and sparkling with her every movement. Your eyes, perhaps shining even more than the scales, locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"You're the mermaid," Mattheo exclaimed softly, more to himself than to you. His breath hitched in the back of his throat.

You tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. "And you must be the boy who has been watching me."

Your voice was melodic, carrying a soothing quality that matched your ethereal appearance. Mattheo felt his breath hitch for the second time in a minute, captivated by the sight before him. He nodded slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The shock of your appearance resided in his system.

"Call me [Name]," you replied, eyes twinkling with curiosity as you swam closer, examining his human features. "And you are?"

The boy appeared almost like from another realm. He was beautiful. His features, so distinctly human, seemed strange to you. The round curve of his ear, the redness of his cheeks. Only the look in his eyes matched yours. Wild curiosity for the other world.

"Mattheo," he answered, taking another cautious step closer. "I've heard stories about you. They say you only come out at night."

A chuckle escaped past your lips, a sound that reminded Mattheo of the tinkling of small bells. "The night is my comfort, where I feel most at home. It's safer, too. Humans can be . . . unpredictable."

"I suppose we can be. But I'm not here to harm you. I just wanted to see if the stories were true."

"And now that you've seen me?" you asked him the question, your gaze never really leaving his.

"I'm more mesmerized than I ever thought I would be," he admitted. "Your scales . . . they're beautiful." You are beautiful.

"Thank you," your smile widened upon hearing his words. "It's rare for someone to see me like this. Most are too afraid or simply don't believe."

"Well, I'm not most people," Mattheo said with a hint of pride. "I've always been drawn to the mysterious, the things others overlook or dismiss." And it was the truth. Mattheo had always been curious, his caretakers used to say.

Your eyes softened, and you swam a little closer to the shore, towards him. "Why do you come here, Mattheo? What is it that you seek?"

He thought for a moment, considering your question. "I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe I'm looking for something beyond the ordinary. Something that makes me feel alive."

"You find that in me?" you asked, a touch of vulnerability in your voice. No one has ever treated you with such kindness. No one from the human world, that’s it.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "There's something about you, [Name]. Something magical." And it wasn’t the Hogwarts.

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the silence between you filled with an unspoken understanding. Then, you broke the spell.

"Would you like to come closer?" asking, you extended a palm toward him.

Mattheo hesitated for only a second before he knelt by the water's edge, reaching out to take your hand. Your touch was cool and soft, sending a shiver up his spine. You gently pulled him closer, and he found himself sitting on the damp ground, his feet almost touching the water, knees soaking the dampness in.

"Tell me about your world," you proposed, eyes wide with interest. "What's it like above the surface?"

Mattheo smiled, realizing he had so much to share. "It's . . . chaotic and beautiful all at once. There are mountains and forests, bustling cities and quiet villages. People can be wonderful, but also terribly complicated. It's a world full of contradictions."

"That sounds fascinating," your voice was full of wonder. "I wish I could see it for myself."

"Maybe one day," Mattheo said, his tone hopeful. "But for now, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

You spent hours like that, talking and sharing stories. Mattheo told you all about Hogwarts, the magical creatures, and the adventures he'd had. You, in turn, shared tales of the lake, its hidden depths, and the creatures that dwelled within. With every word, the two of you grew closer, the bond between you strengthening.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you let out a sigh. "I have to go. The sun is rising."

"Will I see you again?" Mattheo asked, not wanting your time together to end. He has never felt more connected with someone.

"Yes," you promised. "Come back tomorrow night. I'll be here."

With one last, lingering look, your figure slipped beneath the water, disappearing from sight. Mattheo stood up, his heart full of a strange mix of emotions. He knew he would return, drawn back to the lake by the pull of the mysterious mermaid who had captured his heart. As he walked back to the castle, he couldn't stop thinking about you, the night you had shared, and the promise of more to come.

[coveofthesiren]

Crimson Snow

Pairing - Carl Grimes × Reader

Warnings - Mentions of blood, Severe injury, Potential implied reader death

The wind is cold, sharp against your skin as you wander around, unsure now of where you are at all.

He had told you.

Carl had told you not to go on that run, but you didn't listen. It had been days more since you'd seen anyone from the group. A horde had come through, separating you from the rest.

Snow had begun to fall in the early hours of the morning, and by now it coated the ground. Everything was so quiet, eerily so. The only sound the sea of white didn't dampen was that of the wind whipping through the trees.

As you continue to trudge through the powdery landscape, a new sound emerges from the distance. It's like a whistle. The sounds of metal coming into contact with the harsh icy breeze. A glimmer of hope sparks somewhere in your chest at the idea of maybe being close to the walls of Alexandria.

After what feels like forever spent shuffling forward, a wall comes into view, an oh-so-familiar sign catching your eye.

WELCOME TO THE ALEXANDRIA SAFE ZONE

MERCY FOR THE LOST

VENGANCE FOR THE PLUNDERERS

All at once, the pain becomes too much. Looking down, blood covers much of your clothing, staining them various shades of red. Your knees suddenly feel weak as you fall to the ground, the bite wound on your thigh starting to become much more painful than it had been up to this point.

You were so close yet so far. Carl stands somewhere on the other side of the wall.

You can hear him.

Your voice is too frail after days of disuse. It was devastating. You had almost made it. Why did this have to happen now?

If nothing else, the blood-stained snow was beautiful. The deep red stands loudly against the pure white, the sun shining down just right to make it sparkle.

The crimson snow was enchanting in a way, bringing a sense of peace as your eyes flutter shut.

[reivrze]

burnt | park sunghoon.

in which you try to help out sunghoon with his burnt tongue pairing. sunghoon x reader word count. 0.4k note. very random ngl, i was just bored, hope you enjoy !

Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. The fragrant aroma filled the room, comforting and inviting. The steam curled up in lazy wisps, dancing under the soft kitchen light.

As Sunghoon took a sip from his steaming mug, his eyes widened in surprise. He had underestimated the temperature, and the scorching liquid seared his tongue, causing him to yelp in pain. He quickly set the mug down, fanning his mouth with his hand.

Not far away, you entered the kitchen, drawn by his sudden outburst. You had always been captivated by Sunghoon's playful nature, and you couldn't resist teasing him whenever an opportunity arose. A gentle smile played on your lips as you witnessed the scene before you.

Approaching Sunghoon, your eyes danced with amusement. "Careful, love," you teased. "Looks like your love for hot beverages got the better of you this time."

Sunghoon pouted, pretending to be offended. "You're not going to console me, Y/N? No sympathy for a burnt tongue?"

Your expression softened, and you stepped closer, your eyes twinkling. "Well, I suppose I can't let you suffer alone. Maybe I have a solution for that."

Sunghoon's curiosity was piqued, and he watched intently as you leaned in, your lips hovering just above his. The playful glint in your eyes matched his own mischievousness.

With a playful smirk, you pressed your lips gently against Sunghoon's tongue. It was a tender, lingering kiss, filled with warmth and affection. Sunghoon couldn't help but feel a jolt of electricity shoot through him, a mixture of surprise and delight.

Pulling away, you chuckled softly, your voice a melodic sound in the air. "There, all better," you said, your tone laced with amusement.

Sunghoon blinked, momentarily speechless. The burning sensation in his mouth had vanished, replaced by a pleasant tingling sensation. A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with gratitude.

"You, my dear, have magical healing powers," Sunghoon declared, a playful glimmer in his eyes. "I should burn my tongue more often if that's the cure."

You laughed, your laughter filling the kitchen and washing over Sunghoon like a warm embrace. "I don't think that's necessary," you replied, your voice light and teasing. "I'd much rather see that playful smile of yours without any pain involved."

Sunghoon's grin widened, and he pulled you into a tight hug, your laughter blending together in the air. In that moment, the playfulness and affection between you created a bubble of joy, encapsulating the kitchen with your shared happiness.

As the embrace ended, you playfully tousled Sunghoon's hair, your touch gentle yet full of warmth. "Now, let's make sure you don't burn anything else today, okay?". Sunghoon nodded, his eyes shining with a mixture of mischief and adoration "Deal."

© miyu 2023 - do not copy, translate, repost or plagiarize my work anywhere !

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

BuckTommyFluffebruary day 6: Stargazing

I really like day 6 of the challenge by @bucktommyfluffebruary It's cute

Night Skies and Love

Read on ao3

Rating G / Words 1109

A warm breeze feathered over their bodies in the bed of Tommy's truck. Buck had laid a couple blankets down before pulling Tommy into the bed and cuddling with him. Their hands were tangled together while Buck used his other to trace constellations in the sky above them.

“That one is the Big Dipper and that one is the Little Dipper,” Buck explained, his fingers moving along the shapes so Tommy could see them.

“Where did you learn all the constellations?” Tommy asked, tilting his head to kiss Buck's temple. 

“Montana,” Buck replied, closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss. “One of the older guys on the ranch was obsessed with stars. He taught me. The others didn't wanna listen to him anymore.”

“Well, I'm glad you did,” Tommy replied. “I've never really learned all the constellations and I like hearing you talk about them. What's your favorite one?”

Buck sat up just a little bit and twisted his body so he could look over the top of the cab. It was winter and they'd driven far enough out of town that it should be visible. Where was...

“Ah, there,” Buck said, tugging on their joined hands until Tommy sat up with him. He used his other to trace the constellation that hovered near the horizon. “Orion, the hunter. That one is my favorite.”

“What's he hunting?” Tommy asked, turning to look at Buck's face. His breath caught at the sheer beauty of the wonder in his eyes.

“Hang on, let me see if I can remember the story,” Buck squinted his eyes, studying the stars as he thought. 

Tommy was content to sit in silence, alternately watching Buck and glancing up at the stars. He'd seen them often enough flying. When he'd been in the army, they'd seemed so distant. So far from the conflict he was embroiled in. So free. On the really bad nights when he couldn't sleep, he'd taken a walk and just stared at those distant pinpricks of light. Imagined himself escaping into unlimited black and speckled light.

Now, the stars seemed close enough to touch. They spangled the sky, sparkling like little gemstones. A whimsical part of him thought that if he reached up, he could gather a whole handful of glimmering stars. Maybe he'd sprinkle them in Buck's hair, lay them around his eyes, place them just so at the corners of his mouth. Decorate the man he loved so that everyone could see how much he shined.

“Okay, Orion's story,” Buck said, interrupting Tommy's thoughts. “He was a great hunter and said that he could hunt any creature. He made a vow to hunt every living thing in the world. But, that vow angered Gaea, the goddess of the Earth. She sent a scorpion to kill him.”

“A scorpion? Wait, isn't there a constellation that has something to do with scorpions?” Tommy asked, drawn into the story by Buck's voice.

“You're getting ahead of me,” Buck teased, tapping Tommy's lips with his free hand. “After Orion was killed by the scorpion, Zeus put him up in the sky as a constellation. He did the same thing for the scorpion. So now, Orion eternally hunts through the night skies while the scorpion pursues him.”

Tommy looked back up at the constellation and thought about the story. It seemed a little lonely, Orion all by himself in the night sky. The animal that killed him perpetually chasing him. But, if he kept moving, kept hunting, he could evade his pursuer. And he was doing something he enjoyed and excelled at for eternity. So maybe a little lonely but maybe also not so bad. Being part of the night sky sounded like a pleasant afterlife to Tommy. It would be like flying forever.

“He reminds me of you, a little bit,” Buck mused, drawing Tommy's attention back to him.

“Oh? How so?”

Instead of replying, Buck laid back down. He drew Tommy with him, using his free hand to pull Tommy’s face to his. For a few moments, Buck just looked into Tommy’s eyes. Then he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. It lasted for a few seconds, Buck's lips moving gently against Tommy’s. Then he moved, placing featherlight kisses on the tip of Tommy's nose, over the curve of his cheeks, and in the center of his forehead. Then, as Tommy melted into him, their bodies pressed flush together, Buck dragged his lips down the bridge of Tommy’s nose. He bypassed his lips, chuckling quietly when Tommy made a small whining noise deep in his throat. He stopped at Tommy’s chin, kissing the cleft that he was still obsessed with. Only then did Buck move back up and claim Tommy’s lips.

They kissed for a honey sweet eternity as another breeze ruffled their hair. It was warm and soft and comfortable. There was no rush, no need to hurry. Instead, there was an abiding patience, joy in the touch of lips to lips, and a love multiplied as it was shared. Finally, the need to breathe made them both break the kiss. Though Buck didn't move far. He just rested his forehead against Tommy’s. 

“Orion was competent and dedicated,” Buck whispered, finally answering Tommy’s question. “He knew what he was good at and he pursued it. Now, he flies through the vaults of the sky, concentrating on his task. It reminds me of you, flying your helicopter. Well, with less hubris and death.”

“Less death is preferable,” Tommy laughed. When Buck laughed with him, Tommy caught his lips again to taste his laughter.

“Would you want to become a constellation?” Buck asked when they broke the kiss again. “Maybe if the worst happened and you died flying, would you want to be part of the sky forever?”

“It doesn't sound too bad,” Tommy mused, echoing his thoughts from earlier. Then he shook his head slowly. “But if it was only me, no. I wouldn't want to be alone up there.”

“I'd find a way to make it up there to you,” Buck promised, wrapping his arm around Tommy and pulling him close. “Zeus would just have to deal with it.”

Tommy laughed again, his heart thumping in his chest. An eternity in the stars with Buck at his side? Yeah, yeah that would be perfect. He kissed Buck again, pouring everything he felt into the kiss. It seemed Buck understood with how he kissed and clung to Tommy.

They didn't need any more words. Under the star-speckled, velvety black night sky, they loved and made promises with the gentle touch of fingers and the soft press of lips.

[randoimago]

Hi there! Could you please do headcanons on Astarion, Wyll, Karlach and Gale with a Druid reader? And if it’s okay to be more specific, one who’s in the Circle of Stars? Thank you!

With a Circle of Stars Druid Reader

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Wyll

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): Ngl when I was looking into Circle of the Stars, it made me very much want to make a Druid character (that I'll probably never get to actually play in a campaign 😔 )

Astarion

Oh good, finally someone that can use those random hovels that he always ends up coming across in his travels. He'd tell you to stay safe and don't play hero if you do decide to go through one, but also maybe find something shiny.

Asks if you're able to turn into a bear for research purposes. Is a bit disappointed if you can't. Sure, your shining dragon thing is pretty, but you're a druid. Why can't you turn into an actual dragon?

Just a bit of agree to disagreements with Astarion. Your fascination of the night sky is nice and all - and yeah, it's a bit romantic - but he's honestly a bit tired of the night. If your star magic can make him live in the daylight then that'll be great. Until then, he hopes this tadpole doesn't screw him over.

Gale

He's heard of druids that seek to control the cosmos, to meet someone from one of those circles is fascinating to him. Gale absolutely wants to hear of what findings you or your circle might have.

Honestly, he wants to hear about any interesting facts you have of constellations too. Just any knowledge in general, he'd love to learn. Gale is happy to tell you whatever knowledge he might have as well.

Gale is also a bit intrigued with our Wild Shaping abilities too. He has met many interesting creatures that he's summoned and while he knows you can't transform into many of them, he does have a request. Just now and then when he's reading a good book, he'd love if you can be a cat that he can cuddle with too.

Karlach

Karlach is so excited that you're a druid. She has a list of animals she's always wanted to pet, but has been unable to because of her running a bit hot. So if you'd be willing to indulge in becoming little critters for her to pet then she'll be ecstatic.

Considering a lot of her life has been stuck in the Hells, hearing that you are studying and learning about the skies sounds like a dream to her. She'll gladly hear any stories you have of the sparkling lights in the sky, happy to think back on those stories instead of remembering the ones from her past.

Might not quite understand everything you tell her about the stars and night sky - specifically the sciency stuff - but she does love listening to stories behind each constellation. Can't help but joke with you about one day having her own constellation in the night sky.

Wyll

With all of Wyll's traveling, he has some knowledge of the stars. He's needed to rely on them to help him travel a bit so he'd love to learn a bit about your star maps in hopes it'll also help him out in the future.

Can't help but be slightly in awe when he sees your Starry Form. He finds it absolutely gorgeous. The way you glimmer and look like the a star map yourself is amazing. As if he thought he couldn't fall in love further, you just prove him wrong.

Wyll is on a mission whenever your group stops at a city or town now. He's just looking for star maps or special inks and such for you to create and add on to your own. While it's not quite bouquets of flowers, he hopes that you appreciate the gesture.

[savingsallow]

On the mantle, sitting behind a row of neatly hung stockings, Val spots it: a mandrake. Its expression is sour, its leaves drooping slightly. It hasn't screamed - but it's definitely not pleased.

"Stockings," it mutters, its voice bitter. "Everyone gets a stocking. Even the cat. But me? Nothing. I've been good too! Where's my fuzzy sock? My little treats? Or is the mandrake too much trouble to include in your holiday cheer?"

What does Val you do?

The bustling Herbology greenhouse is filled with the warm scent of fresh earth and a swirl of vibrant green plants, each thriving under the enchanted glass ceiling.

Val's pink hair glimmers in the sunlight as she wanders among the rows of magical plants, her eyes shining with curiosity and delight. Today’s lesson is all about mandrakes, and the Slytherin girl's excitement is palpable—though she knows the little sprigs can be a handful.

As Professor Garlick is demonstrating proper handling techniques, Val glances over at her assigned mandrake, nestled snugly in its pot. To her surprise, it's wearing a particularly disgruntled expression, its leaves drooping and a faint moan escaping its lips.

"Stockings," it mutters, its voice bitter. "Everyone gets a stocking. Even the cat. But me? Nothing. I've been good too! Where's my fuzzy sock? My little treats? Or is the mandrake too much trouble to include in your holiday cheer?"

Val bites her lip, holding back a laugh. “Aww c'mon, little buddy!” she calls out, her voice warm and playful. “I know things can feel a bit…rooted in monotony, but this is Herbology class! You’re literally the life of the party here!” She leans closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Besides, I think your sour attitude might just be your only real accessory,” she added with a wink.

The mandrake glares at her, unimpressed, but the girl continues, undeterred. “Look, I'm no plant expert but I think I have an idea.” With a flick of her wrist, she reaches into her bag, pulling out a shimmering purple flower. “This is a Belladonna Blossom—very rare and known for enhancing plant beauty! Just a little sprinkle of this on your leaves, and you’ll turn heads, my dearest Mandrake.”

The mandrake narrows its eyes but can’t resist a peek at the Belladonna. “You really think that would work? You’re not just buttering me up for a scream practice, are you?”

“Oh, please!” she chuckles, shaking her head. “Just imagine it: You’ll be the talk of the classroom. ‘Did you see the Mandrake with the glow?’ Everyone will be jealous, especially the cat! And don’t get me started on all the holiday parties you can crash once you’re looking fabulous.” She pauses dramatically, grinning. “Plus, if you scream, at least it’ll be more like a rock star entrance than a scary concert! Think of that as your holiday gift to the world!”

With a theatrical wave of her wand, she lightly dusts the Belladonna Blossom over the mandrake. Instantly, a spark of shimmering light surrounds it, and its leaves perk up, transforming from dull and grumpy to vibrant and cheerful.

“There! See? Much better!” She stands back and admires her handiwork, clapping her hands together like a proud artist. “Now you’ve got the festive look to match your spirited attitude! Now, who’s ready to spread some holiday cheer?”

The mandrake blinks in disbelief, then lets out a soft giggle that sounds surprisingly like a bark. “Okay, Val. Maybe you’re not so bad after all.”

“Just wait until you see what I have planned for you at the end of class—a little surprise treat! Nothing dark or murky, I promise!” she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just a bit of holiday flavor for a plant who deserves it.”

As it adjusts to its newfound allure, the mandrake begins to sway, almost dancing with the rhythm of the lively classroom. "You know," it calls out teasingly, its voice bubbling with excitement, "I may have been a little too root-bound before! Who knew looking fabulous could feel so magical?"

With that, the mandrake launches into an impromptu performance, mimicking dance moves learned from watching the students. Its tiny arms wave in the air, and it spins around in its pot, exuberance washing over it as it basks in the attention.

Val grins wider, feeling a sense of triumph as she watches her little friend thrive in the spotlight. The other students, once wary of the mandrake’s notorious screaming, are now cheering and clapping, eager to join in the fun.

As the class progresses, it becomes clear that the belladonna has given the mandrake not just beauty, but confidence. It starts to bond with its peers, sharing jokes and playful banter, even poking fun at the stubborn cat who’s lazily perched outside the greenhouse, clearly feeling left out of the festivities.

By the end of the lesson, Val knows she’s made a friend for life. “Alright, time for your surprise!” she announces, producing small, colorful treats from her bag—little enchanted berries that shimmer with a hint of magic. “I call these ‘Jolly Jesters’! They’re sweet, festive, and sure to give you a little bounce!”

The mandrake’s eyes widen in delight, and as Val hands one over, it excitedly chomps into it, its expression lighting up with joy. “This is the best day ever! I can officially say I’m part of the holiday cheer now! Maybe stockings aren't such a bad idea after all—if they’re filled with goodies like these!”

As the bell rings and the students migrate out of the greenhouse, Val takes a moment to admire her handiwork. The mandrake, once sour and overlooked, is now a dazzling centerpiece of the classroom, ready to take on the world with a newfound zest for life.

After all, what’s the thrill of Herbology without a good dose of plants, puns, and a sprinkle of magic ✨

[smok3r7]

One Door Closes & Another One Opens

Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer

Explicit, 18+

Patience Is Key

Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and an old flame of Renae’s reignites in the same breath?

Chapter Summary: Sometimes love is a waiting game.

Word count: 3.9k

-Here’s the finale babes…I can’t believe it’s here! I hope this lives up to everyone’s wishes…I know I’m very happy with the outcome.

Maybe there will be an extra chap for these two in the near future … who knows?

But I wanna say thank you to everyone who’s been here for this story, I’ll love these two forever. And I think this will be my last Joel series … but I hope you guys stay for what I have in the future<3

—

“Sarah!” Joel yells up the staircase, “Ya’ ready to go?”

“Coming, dad!” Sarah yells from her bedroom, causing Joel to chuckle as he grabs his bags from the bottom of the steps. Suddenly he hears the stomping of Sarah’s shoes descending the staircase, and he looks up with bags on both his shoulders to see her eyes sparkle with excitement. Joel can’t help but smile at the sight of her. She deserves this more than she knows, he thinks to himself.

They’re about to embark on an adventure that has been months in the making. Their destination is Joel’s cabin, a couple hours out of the city, a place where they can escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life - for the week of the Fourth of July.

“You ready for the trip of your dreams, Renae?” Sarah giggles as she passes her in the driveway, now skipping backwards towards the truck.

Renae grins, excitement bubbling inside her, “I sure am!”

This road trip has been a long time coming, and she can’t wait to hit the open road with her boyfriend and step-daughter - Frankie coming along as well.

As Joel flies on the highway, the wind tousles the girl's hair and the music blares through the speakers, creating the perfect soundtrack for their adventure. With each passing mile, Renae leaves her worries behind and embraces the freedom of this week.

Because of their late start, the sun starts to set while they drive, casting a golden glow over the horizon. Renae can’t contain her excitement when she sees the sun descending in the distance. Joel can’t help but notice the radiant smile on her face as she gazes at the golden painting in the sky.

Her love for sunsets is infectious, so much so that Joel finds himself captivated by the beauty that illuminates her features. Her red hair shines, her blue eyes glimmer, and her cheeks are a bright gold.

The delayed start to their journey seems insignificant now, as they both bask in the mesmerizing sight before them. In the silence of the car, besides the sounds of Frankie smelling out the back window, a shared moment of appreciation for the simple joys of life bonds them in a way words can’t express.

"Dad," Sarah asks eagerly, "When we get there, can I start the fire?" Joel's eyes meet hers in the rearview mirror, his own smile mirroring Sarah's contagious excitement. "You most definitely can, dear," he replies warmly.

Renae marveles at the scene unfolding before her. Sarah's enthusiasm is a reflection of Joel's adventurous spirit, and as she playfully mimics his smile, Renae can’t help but notice the striking resemblance between father and daughter. They share the same twinkling eyes and infectious grins, a sight that never fails to melt Renae's heart.

"She's just like you, you know," Renae murmurs, planting her hand on Joel’s that rests on the center console. She smiles up at him, feeling a warmth spread through him at her words, Thank you, is all he chokes out and she feels his hand squeeze hers just a bit tighter.

—

Renae stands in awe as she gazes upon the cabin that Joel promised would be their sanctuary for the week. Its worn wooden exterior blends seamlessly with the serene forest surroundings, and a sense of peace washes over her. This is exactly what she needs - a break from the chaos of everyday life, especially work.

Her forest eyes sparkle with wonder as she stands at the edge of the lake, completely captivated by its simple beauty. The sun’s setting, casting a golden hue over the water, making it shimmer like a thousand diamonds. She inhales deeply, taking in the scent of pine trees and freshwater.

Feeling a presence behind her, she turns to see Joel, a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Renae can’t help but smile back. "Wow," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is just... beautiful."

"I knew you'd love it," Joel whispers, his eyes reflecting the same awe that Renae feels. Together, they stand in silence, letting the tranquility of the moment wash over them, taking in each and every second they can.

As the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Renae knows that this moment will be etched in her memory forever. It’s such a special moment, shared between two people in the presence of nature's breathtaking beauty, but in that simplicity, she finds a profound sense of joy and gratitude.

“Can I get some help back here, please!” Sarah hollers from behind them, back at Joel’s truck with a couple bags in hand, “I wanna start this fire, guys!”

Hand in hand, Renae and Joel chuckle to themselves before walking back towards the vehicle to unload their luggage, their hearts full and their spirits uplifted.

Walking into the cabin with bags in each hand, Renae's heart swells with anticipation. She can’t quite pinpoint why, but there’s an inexplicable electricity in the air that makes her pulse quicken. Perhaps it’s the way the trees whisper ancient secrets or the way the sunset casts a beautiful glow over the water.

A couple hours later, everything is set up to everyone’s liking, and Renae feels like she has stepped into a fairytale. In her leggings and loose sweater, she glides towards the living room area and is finally able to appreciate the work that Joel put into this space. The interior is cozy and inviting, with plush couches, a dark fireplace that crackles, filling the room with a warm, earthy scent that envelopes her.

Joel has truly outdone himself, and she can’t wait to spend the week here with him and Sarah.

Renae sinks into one of the plush couches, feeling utterly content in this environment, something she could get more than comfortable with.

Then, Joel and Sarah emerge from the kitchen, carrying steaming mugs of hot cocoa and laughter in their eyes. As darkness settles over the land, a canopy of stars emerges in the sky, twinkling like diamonds against the velvet backdrop.

As the night passes, they sit by the fire, just listening to the pops and cracks every few seconds. Renae feels a sense of serenity wash over her as Joel’s arm wraps around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his side, leaning her head against his shoulder and chest. While Sarah lays over Renae’s lap on her side with Frankie curled up to her, as she lets Renae softly run her fingers up and down the side of her torso and arm.

She’s not sure when she falls asleep, but between Joel holding her and Sarah’s love, she does.

—

Renae sits on the porch of the cabin early the next morning, cradling her steaming cup of coffee, she feels a sense of tranquility wash over her. The early sunlight filters through the dense foliage surrounding the cabin, casting dappled patterns of light on the wooden floor.

The gentle rustling of the leaves in the nearby forest provides a soothing soundtrack to the peaceful moment. It’s as if the trees are whispering ancient secrets, their branches swaying in a synchronized dance to an unheard melody.

She takes a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, pine-scented air. With her legs folded to her chest, she closes her eyes, allowing herself to be fully present in the moment, soaking in the sights and sounds of the wilderness around her. Even after her numerous hiking trips around the state of Texas, she had never encountered a place quite like this.

The cabin sits nestled among towering trees, their thick trunks reaching towards the sky like sentinels guarding a hidden realm. The earthy scent of the forest mingles with the aroma of her coffee, creating a sensory symphony that fills her with a sense of profound peace.

As Renae sips her coffee, she watches a pair of squirrels playfully chase each other through the underbrush, their chittering laughter adding to the magical atmosphere. She can’t help but marvel at the beauty of the natural world and the sense of harmony that seems to permeate every aspect of the forest.

Lost in contemplation, Renae feels a deep connection to the wilderness around her. It’s a place of serenity and wonder, a sanctuary far removed from the business of everyday life. A place she can most definitely get used to enjoying, with Joel and Sarah… and maybe one day, a little one of their own.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” his sleepy voice emerges from the front door, “Thank you for makin’ coffee.” A soft chuckle follows as she turns to see him approaching with a steaming cup in hand.

“Thanks for puttin’ me to bed last night,” she chuckles as she slides over for him to sit next to her, “That couch is comfy, but I would’ve felt like shit this mornin’.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement as he settles down beside her, his presence brings a sense of comfort and familiarity. He takes a sip of his coffee, the steam rising in the crisp morning air, and then, as if on cue, lifts his left arm behind the back of the swing. She knows that’s her invitation to nestle into her spot against him, the spot where their bodies fit together effortlessly as if they’re two pieces of a puzzle.

The peaceful moment lingers between them, the soft sounds of nature providing a soothing melody and their breathing synchronized into one. In that simple gesture of leaning on him, she finds a sense of belonging and contentment that words can never fully capture. It’s a quiet intimacy shared between two souls who have found solace in each other's company.

And as they sit there, savoring the warmth of the morning sun and the comfort of each other's presence, they know that no matter the things they’ve been through for the past two years, they have found a safe haven in the embrace of their love and they both are comfortable in knowing their love it true.

—

Renae hums to herself as she chops vegetables in the cozy kitchen, the aroma of a delicious stir-fry filling the room. Joel and Sarah’s laughter float in from the beach, where they’re engrossed in a friendly game of volleyball. Surrounded by the sounds of the beach and the sizzle of the pan, Renae can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing from her life.

As she stirs the vegetables in the pan, her thoughts drift to motherhood. Watching Sarah grow up has been a joy, but lately, Renae finds herself yearning for a child of her own. Someone she can raise from infancy, pass on her wisdom to, and watch grow into a remarkable individual. The desire for motherhood tugs at her heartstrings, making her question her own path in life.

But Renae knows that bringing up the topic of having a child with Joel is a delicate matter. She’s not sure if he’s ready to start a family all over again, especially considering that Sarah’s already a teenager. The uncertainty of Joel's feelings about marriage and starting a new family weigh heavily on Renae's mind, causing a mix of hope and apprehension to swirl within her. But she refuses to bring it up to him, it’s just not the right timing.

Each rhythmic slice of the knife brings a sense of calm, allowing her mind to wander freely. As she continues cutting, the thought of expanding their little family lingers at the forefront of her thoughts - it won’t stop replaying on loop in her head. She imagines Joel's laughter blending with the innocent giggles of a child, filling their home with more joy and love.

Lost in her daydreams, Renae's focus wavers, and she winces as the blade nicks her finger. It’s a small cut, but enough to startle her. "Fuck," she mutters under her breath, unaware that Joel heard her from outside.

In a swift motion, Joel enters the cozy cabin, a look of concern flashes across his face. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry as he approaches Renae at the sink.

Renae plasters on a smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yeah, just a tiny cut. Nothin’ serious," she replies, her attempt at reassurance tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Joel reaches for her hand, inspecting the minor injury with furrowed brows. "Ya’ know you don't have to pretend with me, right?" he says softly, his gaze searching hers for any hint of what she’s truly feeling. “What’s really goin’ on?” He sincerely asks as he wraps her pointer finger in a piece of paper towel.

“Nothing-“

“N’ don’t lie,” he cuts her off, not rudely but stern enough to tell her to just tell the truth.

Tears well up in her eyes as Joel's warm touch envelopes her hand, the paper towel absorbing the blood from her wounded finger. The vulnerability of the moment makes her voice tremble, "I just… I don't wanna pressure you… but I want a baby of our own."

Joel's deep, chocolate eyes met hers with understanding. "One of our own?" he says at the same time, his voice full of compassion and love.

Her breath catches in her throat as she nods in response, her lip quivering as tears stream down her cheeks. The weight of her confession hangs heavy in the air, but she feels a glimmer of hope as Joel speaks, his words filling her with shock and disbelief.

“I do too,” he reassures her, in fact he gladly embraces the idea of starting anew, “You’ll be an amazin’ mother, just from the way you are with Sarah, I can tell you’ll rock it. I haven’t brought it up cause I didn’t think you’d want to have a child with me. So I left it alone, but darlin’…it’s what I want more than anythin’.”

She can sense a longing evident in his words as he expresses his desire for another child. The notion that Sarah would relish the role of an older sister brings a wave of comfort over Renae, her heart swells with gratitude for Joel's unexpected acceptance.

Renae throws herself into Joel's arms, their embrace is a sanctuary of understanding and unspoken promises. As they stand together in that peaceful silence, a newfound sense of togetherness and possibility enveloped them, igniting a flame of hope for a future filled with love and the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

“I love you so much,” she whispers into his neck, “you’re my world and I’d be so lost without you. Thank you for loving me.”

“I love you too, mama.”

—

Ouh baby, I'm a love man

That’s what they call me, I’m a love man

I’m six feet one, weigh two hundred and ten

Long hair, and pretty fair skin

Long legs and I’m a-out a sight

Hey, little girl, I’m gonna take you out

‘Cause I’m a love man

Renae softly sings to herself, her voice blending with the gentle lapping of the water against the pontoon. As the sun's warm rays kiss her skin, she closes her eyes, feeling utterly at peace. Sarah's laughter and splashing adds to the symphony of summer sounds, creating a harmonious atmosphere that seems to encapsulate the essence of happiness.

Joel had expertly maneuvered the boat to a sandbar near their cabin, a secluded oasis where time seems to stand still. The sky stretched endlessly above them, a canvas of blue punctuated by fluffy white clouds. The whole day had been a lazy blur of swimming, sunbathing, and endless laughter - and it’s only three in the afternoon.

Since the Fourth of July falls on a Wednesday, the whole week Joel says the lake will be busy. And just like he said, the sandbar is buzzing with kids and families all enjoying the summer heat. Children play in the shallow waters, their giggles echoing across the lake. Families picnicking on the shore, the smell of barbecue lingers in the air. It’s a scene straight out of a postcard, a snapshot of summertime bliss.

Renae's voice carries across the water, the melody weaving through the chatter and laughter. Next thing she knows Sarah joins in, her voice blending seamlessly with Renae's. Joel sits by the steering wheel, a content smile playing on his lips as he just watches the two girls sing, now to one another.

Which one of you girls want me to hold you?

A-which one of you girls wants me to kiss you?

A-which one of you girls want me to take you out?

Go on, I got you, gonna knock you all night

‘Cause, baby, I’m a love man

Both Renae and Sarah instinctively splash the water to the beat of the song and both end up laughing at the fact they did the same thing. “This is why I love you, Renae!” Sarah admits with a huge smile across her lips and Renae freezes.

It’s the first time she’s said it and it’s genuine, not forced by any means. It sounds so natural coming from her but it means the world to Renae. “Love you too, Sarah,” she chokes, still with a smile on her face.

Ottis Redding fades from the speaker and Elton John takes over, Your Song. The very song that Renae branded as her and Joel’s song, because it was the first song to play after Joel officially asked her out almost five months ago.

Without a second thought Renae turns her head behind her to look for Joel, “Baby, It’s our song-“ she stops her sentence as she sees Joel already standing in front of her with his right hand reaching for her to stand up. She pushes herself up from the pontoon floor and reaches for his hand for support, adjusting the strap of her bikini top so it’s not digging into her neck.

“May I have this dance?” He purrs softly with a smirk.

“Of course,” she feels her cheeks heat up from his words, her heart fluttering with excitement. The gentle melody floats through the air, creating a magical atmosphere around them.

Joel pulls her closer, and they sway to the music, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, the boat rocking just enough to feel like a dream.

Oh, I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do

My gift is my song and this one’s for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that’s it’s done

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind

That I put down into words

How wonderful life is while you’re in this world

The world fades away, leaving only the two of them lost in the moment. Renae looks into Joel’s shiny orbs, seeing nothing but love and adoration reflecting back at her. She finally feels like she’s where she’s supposed to be in life - she’s finally found her happiness.

You see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen

And you can tell everyone that this is your song

The song slowly comes to an end and Joel dips her slightly, causing her to let out a laugh of pure joy. He brings her back up, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity.

Tears gather in Renae’s eyes as she leans in to kiss him, her heart overflowing with happiness. The kiss is passionate but also sweet, short lived even. But the next thing she knows, Joel’s on one knee as he holds both her hands.

“Joel…”

“Renae,” he starts, “You are the love of my life. Your heart is so pure and full of joy, the way you’re passionate about your job is liberating. I find it incredibly attractive that you are your own woman and always have been. You don’t let others sway you, you stand on what you believe in.” He takes a breath to stop himself from crying.

“The way you treat Sarah, like she’s your own, is something that I love about you. N’ I know she loves you and would love to have you in her life as a mother figure. Then we can eventually have a little one of our own, to make you n’ me complete.” His words start to crack from the emotions he’s trying to hide, “Renae Russo, will you make me the happiest man n’ marry me?”

She's starstruck, she can’t believe he’s really asking her to marry him. Renae never thought he’d be open to the thought of marriage again, “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” She practically sobs between laughs of disbelief.

He stands up and wraps his arms tightly around her body as she latches hers around his torso, then quickly lifts her face to kiss him with love. Their love story has been a rollercoaster ride, filled with ups and downs, but through it all, they have grown closer and stronger together.

Joel, a man who had sworn off marriage after a painful divorce, that she had officiated, is so in love with her that he broke that promise to himself. He feels like Renae’s worth breaking his own rules, because of the way she treats him and his daughter.

Then just like that, Sarah comes from behind Renae and pulls out a small black velvet box and hands it to Renae with a large smile with happy tears. Renae’s heart flutters at the act of Sarah giving her the engagement ring.

Renae's heart skips a beat as she opens the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring glistening in the light of the sun. Tears of joy well up in her eyes as she gazes between the ring, Joel, and then Sarah. With shaky fingers she takes the glistening diamond in her hands and she slides it on her ring finger, and she finally loses her composure.

“I love you both so much,” she chokes out as she reaches for both Joel and Sarah.

As the rest of the evening unfolds, Renae finds herself unable to take her eyes off the exquisite ring adorning her finger. Every glance at the diamond fills her with a sense of gratitude and wonder, reminding her of the love that transcends boundaries and embraces all possibilities.

Joel, unable to contain his own happiness, showers Renae with affection, his touch a constant reassurance of their shared journey ahead. With every caress and whisper promise, he silently vows to be the rock on which their unconventional love story can always thrive.

Renae knows that with Joel by her side, she has the unwavering support to pursue her dreams and create the life she has always envisioned. Their love was a testament to the beauty of breaking free from societal constraints and embracing a connection that defied all odds.

And as Renae drifts off to sleep that night, the tears of joy that had welled up in her eyes earlier now sparkles with a newfound hope and determination. She knows that with Joel and Sarah standing beside her, anything is possible, and her heart brimmed with excitement for the adventure that lay ahead.

[minjisluvr]

i could get used to this | kim minji

The sand, a shimmering expanse, glimmers under the caress of the sun. It stretches out like a vast, golden mosaic.

The waves of the ocean crash softly against the shore, blending with the sound of your heart beating. Its cerulean depths unfold in gentle undulations, a symphony of blues that shift and blend seamlessly.

All you smell is her. A mixture of distant flowers, soap, and sun drying her hair. There's a sweet, almost flowery scent that surrounds her.

Minji's head rests on your lap, her eyes closed and a peaceful smile on her face.

It's the first time she's had a day off in what feels like forever. She's been working hard, waiting for this day, and she's finally free.

You take a deep breath, enjoying the ocean air on your skin. The sun is shining, the skies are blue, and everything is perfect. The two of you sit underneath a beach umbrella that the both of you struggled to stick into the sand.

You watch her as she lazily drags her hand in the sand, her thumb tracing small circles. You can't help but smile when she occasionally opens her eyes and looks at you.

"You know," she says with a smirk, "I could get used to this."

You chuckle softly, your fingers lightly brushing against her cheek. "Lazy beach days with me?"

She nods, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of playfulness and affection. "Absolutely. Just you, me, and the waves."

"Maybe when we're old and wrinkly," you tease, "but for now, I'll take what I can get."

Minji giggles, her laughter music to your ears. "Hey, don't rush us into old age just yet, bro. We've got plenty of time for lazy beach days."

Her words warm your heart, and you find yourself falling even deeper in love with her in this idyllic setting. The weight of the world melts away, leaving behind only the pure joy of being together.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you reach for her hand, gently tugging her closer. "Well, since we're here now, how about we make the most of it? What's on the agenda, beach explorer?"

She feigns a thoughtful expression, her finger tapping against her chin. "Hmm, let's see. We could find some shells, and maybe walk on the shoreline for a while. " Her voice trails off as she looks at you, her eyes eager and hope-filled.

You can't help but kiss her, your lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle kiss. "Sounds perfect,"

[hiddenmoonbeam]

The Nutcracker

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin | ~4k words | Read on Ao3

Here we are, with my entirely unplanned and belated Christmas gift to anyone interested, an au I never knew I needed. It only exists because Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy got stuck in my head out of nowhere one night when I was trying to sleep, and once the idea had formed it wouldn’t leave me alone: a cursed boy, a mouse king turned grey-backed rat, and a good-hearted hero looking at a thing deemed broken and undesirable, and seeing someone lovely instead. This is the beginning of the story. I might write the ending too, because I keep thinking about it. The fate of the middle is more uncertain, though I do have some ideas for that as well. We’ll see how it goes. But for now, I hope you enjoy this. Have a lovely end of the year, and beginning of the next. 💖

It’s Christmas Eve and every inch of Black Manor shines. First the ice sculptures in the garden, followed by the fragrant evergreen garlands hanging around windows and door frames. Candles flicker in chandeliers leading the way from the gates to the great hall. And in there stands the most beautiful tree, so high the star at its top nearly touches the ceiling. It casts a magical light over the sea of gathered guests, glimmering in the women’s dresses and jewellery. The banquet table overflows with delicious dishes, and servants silently pass through the chatting groups carrying trays of sparkling glasses. 

Maybe once upon a time, Sirius enjoyed these occasions. When he was too young to attend, and could spend these endless and magical hours sneaking away from the nanny to spy on the whole spectacle together with his best friend. But that was before said best friend’s parents expressed one too many unorthodox opinions, and the family no longer received an invitation to the yearly party. Before Sirius’s own parents decided he wasn’t a good enough heir, or brother, or potential husband – or person, in general. And now at 16, he would rather sneak away and hide in the attic than play this game of performative small talk with distasteful relatives and their equally bad acquaintances. 

Which is exactly what he’s successfully managed to do. Once he’d made sure enough guests had seen him, greeted them and listened to them boast about themselves, countered backhanded compliments with his own, shot back with a smile and such finesse they wouldn’t realise the insult until later – once all that was done, he made his escape. Praying his mother would be too busy acting the perfect hostess to have time to search for him.

He’s been here in the attic for at least an hour by now, reading his book by candlelight between boxes and old furniture. It’s all calm and quiet, but for the sudden scratching sound somewhere to his right. He ignores it at first, but as the noise grows worse, probably because whatever is causing it got company, he gets up to check what uninvited guests have joined his solitude. And much like he suspected he finds the pair of rats in a dusty corner behind an old table, chewing on what looks like a wooden toy. Sirius shoos at the pests, and watches as they skitter back into the dark. He’d ask where the cats are when they’re needed, but he knows they’re probably being fed by the cook in the kitchen. 

Sirius’s gaze returns to the toy – a nutcracker, he realises. He sighs as he picks up the battered thing; one arm hangs loose, the paint is peeling off, and long jagged cuts cross the wood, both from time and the rats’ teeth. It’s not much to look at, yet something about it tugs at his curiosity. Like a whisper of something old and forgotten. With all its faults it’s rather misplaced in this Manor, where everything is clean and polished, and Sirius can’t help but relate. He wonders where it came from. The attic offers no answers.

It’s risky to return downstairs, but Sirius can no longer focus on the book he brought with him. So as silently as he can manage he sneaks down to his own floor, intending to retrieve the tool box he’s hidden under a floorboard in his room. Before he can get there though, he sees his mother by his locked door, demanding his presence downstairs. She hasn’t yet noticed him at the other end of the hallway, so he quickly slips into the old nursery instead, hoping no one will think to look for him in there among the covered furniture and toys neither he nor his brother has played with for years. It’s a ghostly room; decorated for Christmas like the rest of the Manor despite its lack of use, yet shrouded in shadows cast by the moonlight outside. The tree stands by the long windowed wall opposite the door, visible from outside, all for appearances. Everything else has been frozen in time, waiting for the next generation to bring life to it yet again.

Beneath a white sheet, a few steps into the room, Sirius uncovers the Clockwork Castle the Black cousins once received from the eccentric old clockmaker and inventor, Mr Lupin. The beautiful creation seems to glimmer with a timeless magic, even after all these years. It’s been nearly a decade, but Sirius still remembers his younger self’s fascination with the mechanics of it all. Mr Lupin showed him how to operate it, as well as the box of tools hidden beneath the silvery swans frozen still on the moat. He’s glad for it now, as he finds what he needs to fix the Nutcracker’s broken arm.

In the light from the candle, he settles in the corner farthest away from the door, not to risk the light breaking through the cracks around it and giving him away. Right behind him the moon shines through the tall windows, reflecting in the glass doors of the old toy cabinet. Close beside it, the grandfather clock ticks past eleven thirty.

While he works he tells the Nutcracker in a hushed voice about how much he wishes he could leave his family and the duties they’re set on forcing upon him. His mother caught him kissing a boy last summer, and now she insists on matching him with a suitable wife before he comes of age. Several of these young women are downstairs tonight, waiting for him to show himself again, to dance with them, and behave like the heir he is. How pathetic they’d find him if they knew he’d instead hidden away in this room surrounded by distant memories and childish toys. 

“There,” he says finally, placing the Nutcracker on its feet on the floor with a pleased smile at his handiwork. “As new.” 

The grandfather clock in the corner chimes for midnight – once, twice… but the third one falters. Sirius frowns up at the clock, the slowing pendulum. The fourth chime comes out eerie, the muffled music from downstairs suddenly quiet. 

At the fifth chime, a gust of wind swoops past, from nowhere; the Nutcracker topples over; the candle flame flickers, dies. A sparkle runs up his spine as Sirius rises to his feet, the comfort from just a moment ago now gone. Accompanying the still slowing chimes of the clock, he hears whispers and scurrying noises growing from inside the walls, like hundreds of tiny feet climbing closer. 

Sirius turns, and the room spins with him. Spins and spins, everything in it growing out of proportion while the ghostly chimes echo between the walls, through his head. He stumbles and barely catches himself against an accent table, vaguely aware through the turmoil that the height of it seems wrong; his knees hit the floor and he can no longer reach the edge.

Once everything stills, even the clock now frozen right before the final chime of midnight, Sirius stares up at furniture ten times their normal size, towering above him where he lies on the floor. To his right stands the extinguished candle, now nearly as tall as him. And to his left is the Nutcracker, the toy shimmering as the stiffness melts away, revealing a boy with skin scarred the same way the wood was marked. Sirius stares, mouth agape, while the boy, not quite human but also far from a lifeless piece, blinks back at him, eyes wide. His joints crack painfully as he moves, his motions slower than Sirius’s as they both rise to their feet.

Sirius’s head races with thoughts, one wilder than the last trying to make sense of what is happening. He must have fallen asleep – but that idea even crossing his mind suggests he actually is wide awake. Shrunk to the size of a doll, standing before a Nutcracker-turned-boy. Mind full of questions, but unable to voice any of them.

For a long moment the other boy doesn’t seem to know what to say either. He watches Sirius with a mesmerised expression, eyes flickering back and forth over Sirius’s features. As if it was Sirius who just magically came alive, wood giving way to that adorable face. Then it comes, a low, soft, “oh”. It pierces Sirius’s chest, etches into his core. Oh.

Something sad falls over the boy’s face then, his whole posture, as his eyes trail down to his scarred hands and worn clothes. Sirius knows that look; embarrassment, shame. As much as he hates seeing it, he understands the stark contrast between the two of them. Sirius in his beautifully embroidered waistcoat made especially for the festive occasion, and this boy in a uniform with the red paint peeling off. Because on closer inspection, Sirius realises the fabric isn’t fabric at all; it’s still wood, as are his hands, his almost life-like skin, even the soft curls peeking out from under his hat remain still in the same position no matter how he moves his slightly too large head. Yet he somehow feels more real than any of the guests downstairs.

Sirius reaches out, fingers to the boy’s wrist – and those pretty brown eyes meet his own again. Something passes between them, invisible, curious. Sirius opens his mouth, just about to speak, when a sudden noise from behind him breaks the moment. The boy’s gaze snaps over Sirius’s shoulder, his expression shifting to alarm. Sirius turns, and what he sees freezes the blood in his veins.

All over the other half of the room, from the Christmas tree to the Clockwork Castle, dozens upon dozens of rats have gathered, even more spilling out from the hole in the wall. And at the front stands the largest of them, risen on its hind legs and impossibly tall, a sword in hand, and head crowned with gold. 

The boy gasps, fingers clutching the sleeve of Sirius’s shirt – and suddenly the memories hit, old and filed away, of that Christmas when Mr Lupin presented them the Clockwork Castle. Of the Nutcracker found beneath the tree, and the story Mr Lupin told them about how it’d come to be; of far away lands steeped in magic, where toys come alive among gingerbread houses and castles covered in sugary frosting; of the vengeful Rat King and the cursed princess, and the young man finally breaking it by offering her the nut no one else had been able to crack.

And of course; the curse that befell him instead, turned him wooden and ugly. How the princess’ rejection made him shunned by all and cast out of society. Of the Rat King’s oath to hunt him down; the battle and love that must be won to free him again.

Staring back at the boy now, the terror on his face, Sirius’s own voice whispers in his mind from the past, What’s his name? Mr Lupin looked at him, startled and confused. So Sirius, slightly annoyed that this adult didn’t understand his perfectly reasonable question, added with a precocious tone, He must have a name, has he not?

“Remus,” he breathes now, echoing Mr Lupin’s soft response, and all of a sudden he understands the sadness in the old man’s eyes. The Nutcracker boy looks at Sirius with a similarly startled expression, and through the wood and growing age gap, Sirius sees the resemblance. “You’re Mr Lupin’s son.” 

It’s insane. Absolutely impossible. Yet Sirius is convinced it’s true – with the ghost of a nod, an illusion of tears in his eyes, the long lost Remus Lupin stands before him, the cursed boy from a bedtime story somehow alive and here in Sirius’s old nursery.

“Are you done hiding, little Nutcracker?” the Rat King calls, his wheezing voice sending shivers down Sirius’s spine. “Will you finally let me end your sad existence once and for all?” 

Sirius doesn’t know how he manages to push away from the insanity of it all to act. He scans the room, the army of rats in the opposite end of it moving in on them, and the closed door behind their growing number. Even if Sirius could reach it, there’s no way he would be able to open it while this small. Which only leaves the impossible option to fight, the two of them alone against a murderous army that would have been scary enough at his right size. Now, it’s downright terrifying. 

On the floor beside them lie the small screwdrivers he’d used to fix Remus’s loose arm. He dives for them now, desperate for at least some form of weapon; they’re heavy and awkward, and he hears the Rat King’s mocking laughter as he struggles to hold each with only one hand. He pushes one to Remus, who clumsily manages not to drop it. It’s clear it won’t do. They’ll need something better, something more sword-like, something made for their size–

Sirius’s racing thoughts and feverishly searching gaze finally settle on the toy cabinet, and fragile hope leaps in his chest. If only they can get inside, they’ll have an arsenal of swords and rifles, even cannons, at their disposal, though he has no idea how well any of those toys will actually work. But it’s something. He even thinks he sees movement in there, though he doesn’t dare wish for what that could mean. 

With a quick glance over his shoulder at the approaching rats, Sirius grabs Remus’s hand, and runs. 

“I’m not a fighter, I–I’m only, I was only a clockmaker apprentice,” Remus stammers out. “I don’t know how to–”

“I’m right beside you.” Sirius squeezes his hand, maybe as much to reassure himself as Remus, who stares at him in disbelief. “We will do it together.”

Remus shakes his head, though he looks ill from refusing the help. “I can’t let you–you have nothing to do with this. You might get hurt–”

But I do, Sirius thinks, and he can sense it, somewhere deep down, that it is true. Mr Lupin must have known what he was doing, leaving his cursed son here of all places, all those years ago. There must be more to the story than what he revealed to them back then. There’s a reason this is happening now; a reason Sirius has been magicked into it all, shrunk to fit the missing piece of the puzzle.

When they finally reach the toy cabinet, Sirius sees to his great relief that the movements weren’t an illusion of the moonlight. Behind the glass doors the residents of every shelf now stand up, joining forces to push them open from the inside. As their own rapidly growing side leaps past to the sound of the Rat King’s rage, Sirius can’t help a mad grin from spreading wide. He knows these toys; he gave half of them their personality, and the rest he learned from his brother and cousins. Tin soldiers with many a battle beneath their belts, wooden horses ready to charge, teddy bears with protection sewn into their very seams. Even his cousins’ pretty dolls gather at the rear, brandishing their parasols and purses with determined looks on their rosy faces.

They’re not alone, after all.

One of the toys hands Remus a sword – a real one, it looks like, made sharper and deadly by the same magic that woke them all up. Remus eyes it warily. 

“Do you know what’s needed to break your curse?” the doll asks, while a tin general barks orders for the gathered defence now between them and the rats. 

Remus looks towards the Rat King who swings at the first toys within reach with maddening force, and his wooden hand trembles a little as he grips tighter around the hilt. “I do,” he whispers. 

The doll gives a curt nod. “But you are not yet ready,” she continues. “The Rat King is a great warrior, and tonight you would not stand a chance against him. You must first return home, and learn how to defeat him.”

“Home?” Sirius asks, confused.

She points with her arm, and as if on cue, the Clockwork Castle lights up above the chaos of rats and toys, the mechanics coming alive, a musical hum rising from its core. “Once you’ve entered he cannot follow you that way, as those gates only work for toys and invited guests. It will buy you time.”

“But… the rest of you–”

“We can be mended. We are not fragile like bleeding humans.” She sends Sirius a look at that, before turning back to Remus. “Nor cursed to oblivion should we lose.” 

Sirius nods, while accepting another sword from a different toy. Again he scans the scene for their best option. The table with the castle still lies behind enemy lines, but the rats around the legs seem unnerved by the musical tunes, scattering away from it. Still, they will have to fight their way over there. He’s never had to fend for his or anyone else’s life before, not properly, but at least he’s somewhat prepared thanks to his fencing lessons. Remus on the other hand looks ill again; if a wooden face could pale, his would have lost all colour. But meeting Sirius’s eyes, determination still settles over his features.

It’s chaos. Tin cannon balls break through the army from a distance, the firearms powered by what can only be magic. Rats tear into the soft bellies of the dolls and teddy bears, stuffing spreading over the floor like fluffy intestines. The bizarre scenario is made even worse by the sickening feeling of slicing the sword through actual flesh, the screaming rats falling at Sirius’s feet. His hair, loose from the ribbon at his neck, whips into his face as he turns to fend off the next attack.

The Rat King fights to get to them. But the toys do their best to keep him away, shielding Remus while helping to clear a path towards the Clockwork Castle. Sirius doesn’t know why they’re so ready to protect him, or how they’re aware of his foretold and final confrontation with this vicious enemy. But it’s hardly the strangest part of the night, and so he lets his questions slide to the back of his mind, full focus instead on the task at hand.

They reach the table, wooden guards from the Castle already at the edge of it, throwing down a string of yarn for them to climb. Sirius pushes Remus towards it, not allowing him to argue which of them should go last. “I’m right behind you,” he urges when Remus hesitates. “Go!”

Behind them, just as Sirius grabs for the end of the string and the guards haul them upwards, the Rat King breaks through the defence. Sirius climbs as fast as he can, hoping against hope the rat won’t manage to follow after. But it’s a futile wish; he digs his claws into the white tablecloth, pulling himself closer with practised strength and speed. Far too soon he’s at Sirius’s feet, cruel eyes shining with malice as he grabs at his ankle, tugging hard. 

Sirius tightens his grip of the string, knuckles whitening, palms burning. He kicks down hard, boot connecting with the Rat King’s ugly snout. He lets out an angry roar, clawing towards Sirius’s leg again. But the force was enough to have him lose his grip of the cloth, and he tumbles back down to the floor.

Heart hammering in his chest, Sirius manages to climb the last bit to the edge. Remus is still there with the toy guards, wide-eyed and reaching down to grab Sirius by the arm. Sirius lets himself be pulled up, and even as the helping guard steps back to let him catch his breath, Remus’s hold on him remains.

One of the guards tells them they must hurry, that the rat is climbing again – and they’re back on their feet, rushing towards the towering, shining Castle now finally so close. They cross the moat, the crystal clear water swirling around the graceful swans gliding over the surface beneath the drawbridge. It’s raised behind them, forming the first solid structure between them and the threat. Cutting it all off like this place in itself is a different world altogether. Or at least an in-between, a break, a moment to breathe.

The courtyard looks even more magical like this, viewed from within rather than observed from above like by a god. Sirius stares, turning in a circle to admire the insane details of Mr Lupin’s handiwork, and how this magical night has spelled it all to life. On every side, figures are moving around, cogs and gears turning in their complicated patterns. Miniature Christmas trees line the roads, dusted with sugary snow and sparkling ornaments. Small lanterns hang on strings between beautifully carved columns, casting the setting in a warm glowing light. To their right a couple of wooden children skate around a frozen pond, a decorative fountain splashing water closeby despite the illusion of cold. To the left, a family of snowmen clad in hats and scarves sway to the tunes of the music. And ahead is the castle itself, front gates glimmering like a portal to yet another realm.

With a lurching sensation in his stomach, Sirius realises that’s because it is.

“The Rat King cannot breach these walls,” a guard informs them. “You will be safe here until the battle is over.” He says the last bit to Sirius, who responds with a grateful nod, though he has no intention to stay behind.

“I cannot thank you enough,” Remus says, also facing Sirius. Not until now does he let go of Sirius’s arm, and he finds he misses the contact instantly. “For all the help to get here, but also for fixing my arm, talking to me…” Sirius’s cheeks heat up when remembering what he’d been saying before all this started. But Remus doesn’t seem the slightest bit judgemental or uncomfortable about it. He’s wearing that mesmerised expression again, eyes flickering over Sirius’s face. “I feel like you even woke me up, though I cannot say how.” 

“I can’t take credit for that,” Sirius chuckles, averting his eyes and scratching at his own neck. His gaze trails back to the gold breaking through the opening gates, a strange, invisible pull tugging him closer.

Beside him, Remus adds apologetically, “I wish I knew how to turn you back to normal.”

“We’ll have to figure that out too, then.” Sirius steps towards the gates, a lot less concerned about his own state than he probably should be. He looks back at Remus, who frowns. “What? I’m coming with you, of course.”

An uncertain pause, then, “Of course.” Remus lets out a little laugh, nervous yet so endearing, before adding softly, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Sirius.”

Remus stills midstep, eyes widening. “Like the star.” 

Sirius almost responds with a good-natured eyeroll, pointing out that hardly warrants such an awed expression. But then he hears Remus’s added murmur, a whisper from the past, echoing the end of Mr Lupin’s tale.

His fate now lies in the hands of the stars.

Sirius freezes too, unease piercing his chest. Mr Lupin’s mysterious words were spoken with promise, hope, as he placed the Nutcracker with the older Black children. Three young girls then, now all of them married off, while Mr Lupin’s son remains in his wooden prison. And it hits Sirius then, that this role was never meant for him. He’s just the one the magic has to settle for, with the desired options gone. The idea of a part to play suddenly doesn’t feel as welcome anymore. Not like this, not if it means he will wield power over the outcome he isn’t supposed to have. It’s one thing to offer help, to do whatever he can to support and encourage. Another entirely to have the future of this already so mistreated boy laid into his hands, trusting him to somehow make the right choice, the one that will save him. It’s too much responsibility, too easy to fail, to ruin everything. And this time he won’t be able to fix him again, like his broken arm.

Remus eyes him in silence for a moment, head tilted. “You can stay here,” he starts, but Sirius quickly shakes his head. 

“No, no it’s not that.” Silence again, while Sirius chews on his lip, his words. “I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what it means, what I’m meant to do.”

Something soft falls over Remus’s face, a small smile meeting Sirius’s frown. “We will figure it out,” he says, holding out his hand. “Together?”

Ahead of them, the gates stand open. Golden light pulsing within the frames. The pull tightens, whispers wordlessly, their destination waiting beyond the shimmering veil. Remus faces it with his back, his edges shining with the magic. Sirius meets his gentle eyes, looks at the scarred fingers still held out between them. And he realises it doesn’t matter he isn’t meant to be here – wanted or not, he’s the help Remus has been given, and he won’t leave his side out of fear of failure. 

So Sirius returns the smile; moves forward; takes Remus’s hand. Gives it a squeeze, to reassure them both. “Yes,” he agrees. “Together.”

And side by side, they enter the unknown.

[wishfaux]

[Unsent Letters] Golden Hour

[Music]

The lights around the venue start to dim, leaving the audience in the dark to help gather their attention. A spark of light glimmers within the center of the round stage, growing into a single spotlight to set the mood for what is about to happen. A familiar Vulpera lies curled up in the center fast asleep. Adorned with his ever-familiar microphone, it’s noticeably a translator to help people hear in their native language.

A faint chime echoes from somewhere as those versed with the knowledge of magic might feel a slight tingle along their bodies. It’s clean, unaspected energy - leaving it safe for all.

A gentle swell of music gradually makes itself known. Amidst the soft beats of perfectly timed water droplets, unseen strings join, helping to set the mood. Such seems to stir the small, white fox awake who stretches and comes to life with a tiny yawn. Glancing down, a glittery note sits next to him which he picks up to look it over; cheeks puff as if unsure what to say��still, a small smile forms at the sight of his unsent letter.

Kou tilts his head, looking over the note. His sweet voice sounds fond of something when the words start to pour, almost smitten. “It was just two lovers… Sittin’ Orgrimmar, listenin’ to Tarts, Fallin’ for each other~.” Pushing himself up, the note is folded and tucked into an envelope and in his pocket in tandem with the chimes. Glancing around at the audience, there’s a soft, almost shy air in his tone. “Pink and orange skies, feelin’ super childish, no lucky clovers.”

The Vulpera lifts his paws to his chest, fidgeting at the words while trying to recount just what he wants the note to read. Maybe if he can get it off his chest, he can finally send it! “Missed call from our other, like, ”where you at tonight?” Got no alibi…” Eyes gaze around the circle, he tries to explain his actions but with each step, the dark floor briefly lights up in a gentle blue ripple. Even though the light shimmers around the audience, it fades before settling back into the dark, serene atmosphere.

Kou faces toward another section of the audience, his smile growing ever brighter, if not a bit embarrassed at the confession. “I was all alone with the loooove of my liiife, he’s got glitter for fur, my radiant beam in the night~.” He spins around on one foot, clutching his heart harder to try and keep the aching muscle restrained. Once more the floor under him shines - through the reflection below shows a hatted, speckled Vulpera mimicking his motions, yet the dark consumes the light again.

The little fox pivots on his foot to look up toward the spotlight, noticing the flicks of sparkles drifting down, lightly dusting his fur. Something within it causes him to draw a large breath, the music following his confession with a near angelic plea. “I don’t need no light to see you shiiiiiiiine! It’s your golden hooour! Oh-oh oooh…” Gravitating from his small frame, the words echo and even begin to fill the air with an almost powerful, radiant gathering of energy.

Kou lifts his paws up from his chest, drawing on that magical energy to light up the center stage in gentle hues of gold. Ears fall back in a vulnerable display while uncertainty quakes within. Even dancing glitter in the air slows, almost bending to the Vulpera’s heartfelt voice. “You slow down tiiime! It’s your golden hooour!” The music dances around his body and his arms fall back to his side, pouring out the light from his fingertips to help keep the circle illuminated.

The music shifts to a more whimsical beat as Kou jumps from the middle, flopping down between two audience members. His bright smile returns when the excitement in his voice and body struggle to be contained, leading him to almost bounce. His cheek first presses to the person on his left, “We were just two lovers!” He chimes, tilting his head to the person on the right, cheek to cheek, same as the first. “Paws up on the dash, runnin’ nowhere fast, Burnin’ through the summer!”

Kou spins out of the seat, skipping around the arena to leave golden leaves in his wake, the buds blooming moments after. “Fire Fest’s a blast, make the moment last!” In a twirl of delight, his momentum allows him to pluck up a translucent flower he’s created to offer it toward them. “He’s got solar power!” He doesn’t even wait for them to take it, instead, it’s tucked right into their hair with a perfect chime, and off he goes again. “Minutes feel like hours!”

He reaches up to grab his ears and tug at them, unable to keep himself from releasing a giddy little huff. “He knew he was the baddest, can you even imagine??” Jumping toward another part of the audience, the hype he gives shines with radiance, trying to convince the world of what he wants to say but can’t seem to find the right words. “Fallin’ like I did!” His finger reaches out to boop another right on the nose with the playful chime, leaving a small print of sparkles on it.

The vulpera moves away with another burst of energy, using it to skate around the center ring, leaving a trail of magic behind him. The graceful motions eventually place him back in the middle where he’d started. “For the loooove of my liiife, he’s got glow on his face, a glorious look in his eyes…” Reaching back into his pocket, the letter shoved in previously is plucked out and held, his eyes locked on it. The thoughts of it distract him, maybe it’s not good enough.

He softens when fingers release the letter, letting it fall, “my angel of light…” With those words, the envelope shifts and swirls around him, transforming into beautiful, feathered wings, giving Kou a heavenly glow. The magic pulses below him, further igniting the stage. When it begins to pour, the floor surrounding the seats is flooded in a dull, transparent liquid. “I was all alone with the looove of my liiife, he’s got glitter for fur, my radiant beam in the night.”

Kou closes his eyes, looking for his courage. “I don’t need no light to see you…” Drawing a deep breath, he belts out the words to help his emotions carry. Just then, a bright wave expels from him, the energy swirling around the audience. “Shiiiiiiiiiiine! It’s your golden hooour!” Singing with all of his heart, the vulpera scoops at the air around him to gather every ounce of magic he’s conjured thus far, allowing the tension of gold to warp into a visible amalgamation. 

“You slow down tiiiiime!” At the very crescendo of his confession, the energy drops from his body and explodes outward, painting the entire arena into an actual stage surrounding the tiny fox. The water created from his magic shines brightly in a brilliant blue and the splash of residual effects rain like stardust. Everything shimmers and pops with speckles of gold and blue paint in the starting event. It even consumes Kou, leaving him in a rather stylish gold and white attire. “It’s your golden hour!”

The last few chimes of notes come from the snowing glitter dancing in the bright blue mood lighting. Kou allows his magic to fade while each step he takes matches the drifting keys of the music, leaving ripples through the liquid under his paws until it transforms into the setting he needs it to be. The water evaporates, creating an arena stage with the delighted little vulpera standing there, smiling at the gathering around him.

Kou bows, turning on his heel in the process to ensure all angles are greeted properly, motioning to Tryxiel in appreciation “Welcome everyone, Succulent Tart’s Unsent Letters!”

| @succulent-tart |

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ DMC Agere HC's ໒ ˚⁎

can you do a like fic of Nico (regressor) and Nero (cg) (DMC)

The workshop was a cacophony of clinking tools and the soft hum of machinery, the scent of oil mingling with the faint aroma of coffee. A perfect blend of chaos and comfort. Nico, the inventive spirit of the place, sat cross-legged on a pile of spare parts, her hair tousled and wild, a stark contrast to the usual meticulousness of her craft. Today was different; today, she felt small.

A rush of emotions swirled within her, memories of childhood flooding back, overwhelming yet oddly comforting. She hugged her knees to her chest, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings. The usually bustling workshop felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven where she could let her guard down

As she drifted in and out of her thoughts, the door creaked open, and in walked Nero. His presence was both grounding and comforting. He had always been there for her, with a fierce protectiveness that belied his young age. He stopped short when he saw Nico, her expression a mix of nostalgia and innocence

"Nico ?" he called softly, concern lacing his voice as he approached her. "You alright ?". She looked up at him, eyes wide and glimmering. "I feel... little today" she admitted, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her usual voice. The word ‘little’ hung in the air, a signal that sent a shiver of understanding down Nero's spine

"Little, huh ?" He knelt beside her, his expression softening. "You want to play ? Or maybe we could get some snacks ?"

Nico nodded slowly, her heart swelling with warmth. "Can we have ice cream, Dada ? I want the blue one !!"

Nero chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Sure, let’s get some ice cream. But you’ve got to promise me one thing"

"What’s that ?" Nico asked, tilting her head, her playful curiosity shining through

"No more climbing on the workbench while I’m gone. I can’t have you breaking your neck, you know ?" He smiled, his teasing tone lightening the mood. Nico giggled, a sound that echoed like music in the workshop. "I promise !"

With a nod, Nero helped her up, his hand finding hers as they made their way to the tiny kitchen tucked away in a corner of the workshop. He felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders, but it was a weight he carried willingly. Nico needed him now more than ever, and he was determined to be the best caregiver he could be

In the kitchen, Nero rummaged through the freezer, his back to Nico. "Alright, let’s see what we’ve got…" He turned around with a tub of ice cream in hand, the bright blue hue making Nico squeal with delight

"Yay! Can we have sprinkles ?" she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes, her excitement infectious

"Of course, kiddo. Just don’t tell Dante; he’ll make a fuss about sugar" Nero laughed, carefully scooping the ice cream into two bowls. He placed a generous mound in front of Nico and sprinkled colorful toppings on top, watching her face light up with joy

They settled at the small table, the chaos of the workshop fading into the background. As Nico dug into her ice cream, she felt free, unburdened by the weight of the world outside. "Can we watch cartoons after this ?" she asked, her mouth full of ice cream

"Only if you promise to help me find the remote first. It’s always missing" he replied, smiling at her enthusiasm

"Deal !" she cheered, and for a moment, they were just two kids sharing a simple, sweet moment

Once the ice cream was devoured, they began the search for the elusive remote. Nico’s laughter filled the workshop as they searched behind cushions and under the couch, creating a mess that made Nero shake his head in mock exasperation

"Seriously, how does it always end up here ?" he muttered, pulling out a stray sock along with a dust bunny

"Maybe the dust bunny took it !" Nico suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief

"Right, I’m sure that’s it" he replied, feigning seriousness. "We’ll have to interrogate the dust bunny later.."

Finally, after what felt like a small eternity of searching, they found the remote tucked away in the depths of a box labeled "Do Not Open" Nero flicked it on, and the screen flickered to life, filling the workshop with the cheerful sounds of an animated show

As they settled in, Nico snuggled close to Nero, her head resting against his shoulder. The warmth of his presence was reassuring, and as the bright colors of the show danced on the screen, she felt the cares of the world fade away

"Thanks, Dada.." she murmured, her eyes drooping slightly. "I feel happy"

Nero smiled down at her, a protective instinct blooming in his chest. "Always, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe here"

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and light, Nico felt a peace she hadn’t known in a long time. No demons, no battles—just a dada and his daughter, and a world filled with possibilities.

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !