#my beloved my light in the morning my joy of life

[wildsaltair]

how DARE he if he’s not going to blow my back out immediately after

[lizzyiii]

hey, so ur works are literally heaven in itself (im in love with u)

you guys reading my works are what validate me in life (i'm so in love with you too, babe)

Scales and Arpeggios

pairing | aemond x wife!reader word count | 4.3k words summary | aemond and his wife share tender moments with their children, engaging in music lessons that bring warmth and joy to their family amidst the shadows of the dance of dragons.

note | slight angst, hotd au (greens win), KING AEMOND, toothrotting fluffff, children, no description of reader, fluffy Aemond, soft aemond, pregnant!reader a/n | aristocats inspired (duchess and her kittens), I thought of this this morning. I really needed this fluff after all my negative thoughts and feelings. also don't worry, I have all my requests in the making, and in my draft's - prepare for the angst and feels.

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Aemond was tired.

Day upon day, his life was mired in endless council meetings, audiences with quarrelsome lords, and grievances of the peasantry, all in the name of healing a realm ravaged by war.

It had been two years since the Dance of the Dragons had torn through the land, yet the scars remained, as fresh as the charred ruins left in the dragons’ wake.

And here he was, King of the Seven Kingdoms—but at what bitter cost. He had bested Daemon in the fierce clash over the God’s Eye, and his half-sister, the self-styled Queen, had been devoured by her own madness.

She met her end as Sunfyre tore her asunder upon Aegon’s command. Not long after, Aegon himself succumbed to his wounds, leaving the crown a hollow prize.

Aemond had defeated the Blacks. The traitors were vanquished, their cause snuffed out. But his family had been taken in the fires of war. Jaehaerys murdered; young Maelor torn apart; Daeron slain.

Helaena, dear Helaena, had taken her own life. And Aegon—Aegon had burned away with his dragon, his defiance crumbling under the agony of his wounds.

All that remained of his bloodline were fleeting shadows of memory and ashes of kin. Only his wife, the woman bound to him since he was but fourteen, remained steadfast.

Through the dark days of the war, you had been his only constant, his sole source of solace. In the end, that was all he had left: his bride, his son Aeron, his niece Jaehaera, and his mother, Queen Alicent, who clung to life with a frail resilience.

It was his wife, too, who had stayed his hand when he considered the fates of Daemon’s daughters. You had urged him to spare the lives of Baela and Rhaena, allowing them sanctuary with their sole surviving brother, Aegon the Younger, now far away in Driftmark.

And yet, his mother had been torn asunder by grief, the madness that followed the loss of three of her children consuming her like a wildfire. Just months ago, Alicent had succumbed to the cruel grip of Winter Fever, and with her passing, the warmth of their family had dimmed further.

He blamed himself, for in his fervor to protect his own—the children he adored and his beloved wife—he had allowed himself to be blind to his mother’s decline. Each day, he devoted himself to the care and nurturing of Aeron and Daenys, ensuring Jaehaera felt the presence of family, while the ever-looming responsibilities of the crown overshadowed his duties as a son.

Now, he barely caught glimpses of the life that remained. He would rise in the early hours, the dawn light casting a soft glow upon his wife’s sleeping form, a fleeting moment of peace before he was swept away by the relentless tide of royal obligations.

In the fleeting minutes before he departed for court, he could only admire the serene lines of your face, knowing that the day would steal him from your side again.

The children were no better; brief encounters in the corridors felt like whispers of a past he could hardly grasp. Aeron would be playing with his toys, and Daenys might be crawling after the palace cats, laughter echoing softly in the halls, but those joyful sounds seemed distant, muffled by the duties that consumed him.

But on this day, a flicker of fortune shone upon him; he had managed to complete his duties earlier than usual. Typically, he toiled long into the night, only to return to the warmth of their chambers when all were asleep. Though it was after supper, a glimmer of hope sparked within him that perhaps he could still find them, to grasp those precious moments he had so dearly missed.

Through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, the young Prince Aeron and Princess Jaehaera raced, their laughter echoing against the cold stone walls as they hurried toward the music lesson that awaited them. The air was filled with the thrill of their spirited competition, each eager to claim the title of first to arrive.

As they rounded a corner, Jaehaera noticed Aeron pulling ahead, determination etched across his small face. In a quick, daring move, she reached out and tugged at his tunic, managing to pull him back just enough to dart ahead. “Me first!” she shouted, her voice ringing with triumph.

Not to be outdone, Aeron swiftly grabbed hold of her arm, attempting to halt her advance. “And why should you be first?” he challenged.

Jaehaera strained against his grip, lifting her chin defiantly as she met his gaze. “Because I am the future queen, that’s why!” she declared, her voice bold and unwavering.

With that, she broke free, dashing down the corridor, but Aeron was quick on her heels, bumping her to the side in a playful shove that almost sent her sprawling against the wall. “You’re not a queen! You’re nothing but my cousin!” he yelled.

Jaehaera shot him a fierce glare, her brows knitting together. “I’ll show you if I’m a queen or not,” she murmured under her breath, determination simmering in her tone as they neared the door to the music room.

In a last-ditch effort to claim victory, Jaehaera pushed Aeron aside just as they reached the threshold. He stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, throwing a frown her way. “Fight fair, Jae!”

Without missing a beat, she rolled her eyes and slipped into the room, only to be met with an unexpected shove from Aeron as he followed closely behind. He hadn’t meant to, but the force sent Jaehaera tumbling to the ground with a hard thud that echoed in the hall.

She shot him a fierce glare, her lips forming a pout as she rubbed her side. “Now that hurt!” she exclaimed, the hint of a whine creeping into her voice.

“Aunty! Aunty!” she called out, her tone shifting to one of urgency.

Moments later, you entered the room, carrying Daenys on your hip. A mixture of sternness and affection danced on your face as you regarded the two children. “Jaehaera, my darling, Jaehaera,” you said, your voice firm but softening with a smile. “You must stop that; it is really not ladylike.”

Your gaze shifted to Aeron, your tone turning slightly admonishing. “And you, Aeron, such behavior is most unbecoming of a lovely gentleman.”

Aeron’s cheeks flushed, and he scowled at Jaehaera, ready to defend himself. “Well, she started it,” he retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

Jaehaera, unfazed, lifted her chin in a gesture of regal disdain, pointedly turning her gaze away from him. “Queens do not start fights,” she declared, her voice dripping with authority. Then, with a scrunch of her nose, she added, “But they can finish them.”

Aeron rolled his eyes dramatically at Jaehaera, sticking out his tongue in mockery, but the jest was short-lived as he heard his mother’s voice call out from across the room. “Now, Aeron, don’t be rude,” you scolded, your tone firm but laced with affection.

He turned to you, flashing an innocent smile, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “We were just practicing fighting and pushing,” he replied, his words punctuated by an exaggerated shrug that only added to the mischief of the moment.

You felt a jolt of discomfort at his words, a wave of haunting memories crashing over you. The echoes of past conflicts flickered in your mind—battles fought and lives lost, the heavy price of such lessons. “Targaryens do not practice fighting and pushing and things like that,” you replied, your voice low, the irony of your own words hanging heavily in the air. “It is just horrible.”

With a determined effort, you sought to redirect the conversation and lighten the mood. “Now,” you began, your expression softening as you turned your gaze to Daenys, nestled in your arms, her tiny form clearly on the brink of sleep.

You smiled adoringly at her, a sense of calm washing over you as you looked back at Jaehaera and Aeron. “Why don’t you two head over to the piano, and let’s begin our lesson?”

��Yes, Aunty!” Jaehaera chirped, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she practically danced toward the instrument, subtly shouldering Aeron aside.

Aeron glared at Jaehaera, his indignation flaring up momentarily, but he quickly turned to you with a soft nod. “Yes, Mama,” he replied.

“It’s time to practice your scales and your arpeggios,” you encouraged, as you moved toward the piano. You settled onto the chaise beside it, Daenys resting her head comfortably against your shoulder, her eyes half-closed as she watched her brother and cousin with a sleepy fascination.

Jaehaera stood poised beside the grand piano, her back straight and shoulders squared, a picture of determination. She cleared her throat, the sound echoing softly in the air, and waited expectantly for Aeron to begin.

However, she cast him a pointed glare as he took his sweet time, leisurely warming up his hands as if the lesson were no pressing matter.

Finally, after an impatient moment, Jaehaera announced, “I’m ready, Maestro,” her voice ringing with a blend of authority and hautiness.

Aeron shot her a sideways glance, his mischievous grin returning as he subtly shifted his foot and stomped down hard onto Jaehaera’s, eliciting a sharp squeak from her.

“Aunty, he did it again!” she exclaimed, turning her wide eyes toward you, indignation clear in her voice.

Aeron, unfazed, looked away, propping his chin on his hand with an exaggerated air of nonchalance. “Tattletale,” he whispered in response.

You carefully rubbed Daenys' back, the gentle motion soothing your daughter. Your patience was unwavering, as you said, “Now, Aeron, please, darling, settle down and play me your pretty little song.” Your voice was calm, and your tone both firm and nurturing.

With a resigned sigh, Aeron nodded, his playful demeanor shifting as he positioned himself at the piano. “Yes, Mama,” he murmured, fingers poised above the keys. As he began to play, the room filled with the soft, melodic strains of his music.

Aemond was at a loss, frustration tightening his chest as he searched the sprawling halls of the Red Keep for you. He had scoured your shared chambers, his personal solar, and the children’s bedrooms, but you were nowhere to be found.

The sinking feeling in his gut only grew as he realized he needed assistance, and at last, he sought out one of the guards stationed nearby.

The guard cleared his throat and straightened slightly, sensing the prince’s impatience. “At Her Grace's music lessons, sire,” he replied, his tone respectful.

“Music lessons?” Aemond murmured to himself, brow furrowing in confusion. He had not realized such an event was taking place, nor had he been informed of it.

Without another moment's hesitation, he rushed in the direction indicated, making his way down a seldom-used wing of the castle, its walls lined with faded tapestries and the whispers of history.

As he drew closer, he heard the unmistakable sound of a piano, its notes cascading through the air like a gentle stream, drawing him forward.

Coming closer to the door, he opened it quietly before he peeked his head inside, his heart melting at the sight as he heard Jaehaera's voice.

"Do mi sol do do sol mi do," the girl of six summers sang, her voice young and somewhat pitchy as she sang confidently, "Every truly cultured music student knows. You must learn your scales and your arpeggios Finger music ringing from your chest And not your nose. While you sing your scales and your arpeggios"

Aemond stood just beyond the doorway, a swell of pride filling his chest as he watched his five-year-old son, Aeron, seated at the piano. The boy’s fingers danced across the keys with a mixture of enthusiasm and concentration, his small face lit with determination.

To Aemond’s surprise, Aeron broke into song as well, his voice sweet yet tinged with the tremor of youth. “If you’re faithful to your daily practicing, you will find your progress is encouraging,” he sang, each note imbued with his budding confidence.

Beside him, Jaehaera stood, arms crossed and a hint of exasperation in her eyes as she rolled them subtly at Aeron’s exuberance. Aeron continued, his voice growing bolder yet still wavering, “Do mi sol me do, mi sol me fa la sol, it goes. When you do your scales and your arpeggios.”

Jaehaera lifted her voice to sing her part again, “Do mi so do,” but she was abruptly cut off by Aeron, who had become overly enthusiastic at the piano, his fingers now racing across the keys with fervor.

“Do mi sol do, do sol mi do,” you chimed in, your voice ethereal and melodic, casting a gentle spell over the room. Aemond found his gaze drawn to you, the light catching your features as you sang alongside the children.

Jaehaera quickly fell in with you, her voice harmonizing beautifully, “Do mi sol do, do sol mi do. Though at first it seems as though it doesn’t show, like a tree, ability will bloom and grow.”

In your arms, Daenys, who had previously been drifting off to sleep, now sat wide awake, her bright eyes filled with wonder as she attempted to mimic the words you and Jaehaera sang. Her babbling intermingled with the melody.

The three of you continued in unison, your voices intertwining, “If you’re smart, you’ll learn by heart what every artist knows. You must sing your scales.....and your arpeggios.”

Aemond leaned against the doorframe, a small smile gracing his lips as he took in the delightful scene unfolding before him. The flickering light of the candles cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the joy radiating from his children.

Aeron beamed at you, his face aglow with pride as the final notes of the song faded into the air. “How was that, Mama?” he asked, his bright eyes shining with eager anticipation.

You turned to him, your heart swelling with affection. “Absolutely wonderful, my love,” you replied, your voice laced with warmth and encouragement. Just as you opened your mouth to add more praise, a small, excited voice broke through the moment.

“Kēpa! Kēpa!” Daenys cried out, her tiny hands clapping together in delight, her wide lilac eyes fixed on the door where Aemond stood.

All three of you turned your attention toward the threshold, and Aemond couldn’t help but feel a slight flush of warmth at the sight of his little girl’s enthusiasm. He stood there, somewhat awkwardly.

“Do you wish to join us, my king?” you teased gently, a playful amusement dancing in your tone as you gestured for him to enter.

Aemond gave you a small smile before striding into the room, the familiar weight of his crown momentarily forgotten in the presence of his family.

Daenys, her cherubic face lighting up with excitement, eagerly raised her arms toward him, and he scooped her up effortlessly from your embrace, her giggles filling the air. “I was not aware there were music lessons in the first place,” he remarked, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Merely for the children’s entertainment, I assure you,” you replied softly, your heart warmed by the sight of your husband.

Aemond shot you a skeptical glance, an eyebrow arching slightly as he nodded. “Oh, I am sure,” he replied, a hint of teasing lacing his tone.

“Father, did you see how I played?” Aeron asked eagerly, his small hands still resting on the piano keys, a bright grin spreading across his face.

“Yes, I did,” Aemond said, his expression softening as he smiled down at his son. “Much better than any bard I’ve heard.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Aeron beamed at the praise.

“And did you see how I sang, uncle?” Jaehaera chimed in, her voice a melodic chime that danced through the air like the notes of the piano.

“Yes, of course,” Aemond replied, nodding with genuine admiration. “One day, you might even come to rival the Queen’s voice.” The compliment brought a bright flush to Jaehaera's cheeks, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“She’ll be even better than me,” you murmured, a soft smile gracing your lips as you watched the exchange unfold.

As the children chattered excitedly, desperate for their King's attention, your gaze drifted to the doorway, where you spotted your maid, Emery, standing patiently, signaling that it was time for bed.

You cleared your throat gently, drawing the children's attention back to you. “Children, it’s time to go to bed,” you announced softly, your voice laced with warmth yet firm.

Aeron turned to you, his wide eyes shimmering with innocence as he clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Do we have to, Mama? Father just got here,” he implored, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made your heart ache.

You sighed, feeling your resolve weaken under the weight of his pleas. However, Aemond came to your rescue, his hand affectionately ruffling Aeron’s fluffy silver hair. “And I’ll come say goodnight once you are in bed, little king,” he promised, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You tilted your head toward the door, giving a gentle nudge. “Emery is waiting for you,” you murmured, the soft authority in your tone guiding them toward the inevitable.

Disappointment flickered in both Jaehaera’s and Aeron’s eyes, yet they nodded reluctantly. Jaehaera approached your side and planted a tender kiss on your cheek, her small frame radiating warmth as she bid you goodnight.

Following her lead, Aeron hurried to do the same, his kiss lingering a moment longer before he bent down to press his lips against your swelling stomach, his sweet gesture eliciting a smile from you.

Aemond, observing the tender moment, passed baby Daenys into your arms. She giggled excitedly, her laughter a delightful sound as you smothered her with kisses, before you handed Daenys to Emery, who was prepared to lead the children out.

As the soft patter of little feet faded down the corridor, the lively laughter and chatter of the children ebbed away, leaving you and Aemond cocooned in the warm embrace of the cozy chamber.

A serene silence enveloped the two of you, a precious moment amidst the storm of duties and the remnants of grief that lingered in the air.

“Hello, husband,” you greeted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to shatter the comfortable stillness that settled between you.

“Hello, wife,” Aemond murmured in return, his tone low and warm as he lowered himself onto the piano bench beside you.

With a gentle grace, he let his hand drift over the piano keys, pausing just short of touching them. It was a silent acknowledgment of his lack of skill, yet he seemed fascinated by the instrument nonetheless.

You watched him, the lines of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the chamber, and felt a pang of affection.

“I apologize for not informing you about the lessons,” you said, your voice steady yet filled with sincerity.

“Tis alright,” he replied, though his gaze remained fixed away from you, a flicker of concern shadowing his features. “When did it begin?”

“The day of your mother’s funeral,” you replied gently, choosing your words with care. “Your duties had taken you away, and Aeron and Jaehaera were feeling very down. I thought music might lift their spirits, and it has. Jaehaera even asked me to teach her to sing and play.”

At the mention of that day, Aemond’s expression shifted. Guilt washed over him, and memories flooded back—his mother’s service at the Sept, the heavy atmosphere of sorrow, and how he had been swept away in the currents of his responsibilities, never given a moment to truly mourn.

He nodded thoughtfully, his voice barely above a whisper. “Aeron seems particularly skilled.”

“He is a very intelligent little boy,” you agreed, your eyes not leaving his as he continued to stare at the piano, lost in thought. “He has an eagerness to learn that reminds me of you.”

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound breaking through the solemnity that hung in the air. “I fear he has far more talent than I ever did,” he said, a hint of pride seeping into his words. “But I’m glad to see them find joy in something so beautiful.”

“Music has a way of healing,” you remarked, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “Especially in times like these.”

He turned to face you fully, his piercing violet eye searching yours. “And what of you? How do you fare amidst the shadows of loss?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. “I carry the grief, as we all do. But I find solace in our children. Their laughter reminds me of the light we can still find in our lives.”

Aemond’s gaze softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours with an intimacy that sent warmth coursing through you. “You are stronger than I,” he said earnestly. “I often wonder how you manage to bear the burdens we both carry.”

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, you replied, “We bear them together, my king. That is what family is for.”

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly, and he murmured, “Aeron... he shall be a better king than I.” His voice held a weight of expectation and uncertainty, a reflection of his own doubts.

You turned your gaze toward him, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes as you stood and swiftly settled beside him on the bench.

Reaching out, you cupped his face in your hands, grounding him with your touch. “Only because he shall learn from your mistakes. Every king should be better than the former.”

Aemond stared into your eyes, his heart swelling with gratitude. In truth, he had often wondered what he had done to deserve your steadfast presence. Memories washed over him—of the day he first met you when he was merely fourteen, a boy angry and hateful at the world.

He leaned his forehead against yours, finding solace in your warmth. “You are very wise, my queen. You never lead me astray.”

“Destiny has its designs,” you replied softly, a small smile gracing your lips. “And I am merely fulfilling mine. To guide you, to stand by your side.”

He chuckled lightly, the sound a blend of affection and admiration. “Even when I do not deserve it?”

“Especially then,” you countered, your tone playful yet sincere. “Every king needs a queen to keep him grounded, to remind him of what truly matters.”

Aemond took a deep breath, the weight of the realm and his responsibilities momentarily lifted. “And what is that, my love?”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It is love, loyalty, and the hope for a better tomorrow. The kind of future we want for our children.”

Aemond leaned back, a rare lightness settling in his chest for the first time in what felt like an age. He placed his hand over your round belly, feeling the warmth radiate from within. You tilted your head, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as you caught his gaze.

“Aeron has taken to kissing my stomach,” you said, your tone playful. “He believes that if he shows enough affection, it might persuade my body to grant him a brother. He claims it would make his chances of having a fair fight against the girls much better.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. Then, nodding toward the piano, he added, “Teach me. I may never reach the heights of Aeron’s talent, but perhaps I could aspire to match little Daenys’ skill.”

Your laughter chimed like music in the air, a sound that warmed his spirit. Aemond grinned at the absurdity of comparing his potential to that of his infant daughter. “Very well,” you said, your eyes sparkling with delight. “First, let us see what you can do.”

You guided him closer to the piano, instructing him to place his large, slender hands over yours on the keys. “Feel the movement,” you encouraged, your voice soft and patient. “It’s not merely about the notes; it’s about the rhythm and the heart behind them.”

Unbeknownst to you and Aemond, enveloped in your own intimate world, three pairs of curious eyes peered in from the slightly ajar door of the chamber. Jaehaera, Aeron, and little Daenys had quietly slipped away from their caretakers.

Jaehaera, though only six years of age, sighed wistfully as she watched her uncle and aunt. “How romantic,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a sense of longing.

She cradled baby Daenys in her arms, the infant unusually calm, her wide eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the room as she took in the scene of her mother and father together.

Aeron, standing beside Jaehaera, observed his parents intently, a thoughtful frown furrowing his brow. “Do you think our marriage will be like that?” he asked, glancing over at Jaehaera to gauge her reaction.

Jaehaera turned to him, her gaze sharp and serious, her little brows furrowing in determination. “It has to, Aeron. It has to.”

“Do you think we’ll be that happy?” he pressed, his youthful innocence shining through, even as the shadows of doubt crept into his mind.

She nodded vigorously, her long silver hair bouncing with the motion. “Of course! The king and queen love each other. If we love each other like they do, it will be just as wonderful.”

Aeron pondered her words, his gaze drifting back to the sight of you and Aemond, lost in your shared moment. “And what if…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “What if things become difficult, like they do in the stories?”

Jaehaera frowned slightly, her youthful optimism momentarily faltering. “Then we fight for each other, just like they do,” she declared with conviction.

Aeron nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I like that idea,” he said softly, his gaze drifting back to the happy scene of his mother and his father.

“We’ll make it the best story ever.”

[Jaehaera, Aeron, Daenys]

headcannonsss:

— aemond and reader end up having six children in total: aeron (18), daenys (15), mikael (13), jaemes (10), elaena (7) and aelora (4) + jaehaera (19)

— aeron and jaehaera marry

— daenys falls in love with aegon (rhaenyra's son)

— mikael comes out as gay

— jaemes and elaena marry

— aelora refuses to marry and part with her mother (sophie/donna relationship)

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

 "We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[vampzity]

𝘼 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚

Pairing: husband! San x f! reader

Genre: fluff, nudity w/o smut, husband au, valentine’s day series, mini idol au, one shot, pet names (angel, princess, baby girl), LOTS of flirting

Synopsis: It’s Valentine’s Day, but not just any Valentine’s Day.. it’s your first as a married couple with your beloved husband, San. You had the entire day planned out and what you wanted to in celebration of this special day, or so you thought. San was not just one but two steps ahead of you and your game plan. He knew exactly of your plans for him, and decided to turn it around on you.

Now Playing: POV - Ariana Grande

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! There’s a lot going on in my personal life- I couldn’t tell you guys how excited I’ve been to write this one shot… it was literally haunting me!

Yeosang’s Pt. Masterlist Mingi’s Pt.

You lay on your bed, practically suffocated by the covers that wrapped around your body. You felt a pair of soft paws pass through your legs, soon pushing at your head to wake you. You yawned widely, eyes closed as you lifted the covers to let the furry animal under them with you. You heard a small purr as the animal nuzzled against your chest, resting its head under your chin.

“Good morning, my sweet Byeol.”

You pet her softly, eyes still closed as you didn’t want to accept the fate of it being morning so soon. Your eyes fluttered a bit as you continued to yawn a bit more, poking your head out from above the covers. To your surprise, your dearly beloved wasn’t there.

You poked your head out a little more, looking around the room. Nowhere to be found. Glancing over to the nightstand, you realize his glasses are gone as well. You raised an eyebrow suspiciously, shrugging slowly as you sat up in bed to stretch your limbs. Byeol tip-toed from under the covers and sat on your husband’s side of the bed. You stretched your arms and back, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the morning sunlight shining in the room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze. You looked over to the door, seeing your husband standing there with a towel, a basket of miscellaneous items, and roses. He beamed a soft smile at you, his glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

He walked over to you, placing the items on the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face, leaning in to plant a soft but warm kiss on your forehead. Your face flushed a light red, ears turning hot with it. San hovered over you, pulling your chin up to meet his eyes as you sat in bed below him.

“Good morning sleepy head. Ready for your princess treatment today?”

You stood there, completely at a loss for words as your face now turned a dark red. Normally, you’d wake up early every morning to feed Byeol and make San breakfast for the day. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Acts of service were simply how you showed your affection to him, and that’s exactly what you wanted to do today but heightened. Unfortunately for you, San beat you to it.

He walked away from you, grabbing the box of miscellaneous items to hand over to you. In the box were different kinds of soaps you adored, bath bombs, and scrubs that made your skin glow. An entire bag of Epsom salt sat in the corner of the box and made you grin slightly, as San knew how much it helped your feet when they were sore.

You smiled at the box, feeling love fill your heart with joy as you accepted the gift. Looking back up at San, he smiled at you holding his hand out for you.

“Well, c’mon. I already have a bath ready for you with warm water. Today, I spoil you and you cannot interfere. Understood?”

You looked at him, completely speechless at his words. An entire bath was ready for you? Whatever happened to your plans for him today? It was such a sudden change of events for you, that you weren’t sure of how to respond to his offering.

“But, San. You ca- Shhh.”

He placed his finger against your lips, cutting you off to shush you. He smirked, leaning in to bring his face only a few inches away from yours.

“What did I say, princess? I’m spoiling you today.” He backed away from you, grabbing your hand to pull you out of bed. “I’ll do whatever you want today, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your special treatment.”

He walked you towards the bathroom, closing the door behind you two. The tub was covered in rose petals along with other flowers. Different honeycomb scrubs rested afloat as a soothing aroma of vanilla and lavender filled your nose. Curtains rested on the windows, allowing for a darker room only lit by small candles laid about.

He let go of your hand and stuck it into the bath water to make sure its temperature was still warm for you. Humming pleasantly, he turned back to you.

“Still nice and warm for you.”

Your cheeks flushed red as he once again, moved hair out of your face to admire you. He moved out of your way and walked towards the door, allowing you the privacy to relax and rewind without him there. However, a quick thought hit your mind. A devilish one at that, and it was indeed something that he wouldn’t expect from you.

“Sannie?” He turned his head to you, raising an eyebrow as it was rare that you ever used his nickname with him.

“You said you’d do anything I want right?” His head nodded softly, turning his entire back to face you as he began to cock his face to the side. He meant what he said, but he wasn’t as positive about you taking such a vague request seriously. You looked down at your nightgown, smirking slightly as you met eyes with San once again.

“Undress me.”

San’s eyes widened as you gave him a smug look. His face immediately shot red with nervousness, feeling the room turn hot. A few seconds passed by until you grew impatient, so you grabbed San by the arm and pulled him to you, placing his hand on the strap of your gown.

“Do it,” you mumbled, feeling your heart beat out of your chest.

San gave you a soft glare, kissing your shoulder softly. He pulled your straps off your shoulder, as your arms slipped out of them. The nightgown fell to your ankles, revealing you only in red underwear. San’s eyes widened at the sight of you. Sure, he has seen your body plenty of times, but it still shocked him at how bold you were compared to your normal shy self. He continued to give you small pecks along your neck and shoulders, soon planting a kiss against your hand.

He pulled your body to him, his hand resting underneath your chin as a soft kiss was shared between you two.

"Is there.. anything else that you want me for, princess?"

You blushed hesitantly, shaking your head no to the young man. He smiled, letting go of you and making his way back towards the door. He picked up Byeol, who stood at the door frame and turned to face you once again.

"Take your time. I'll be making breakfast for you."`

San closed the door, allowing you to be alone for some time to gather yourself. You sighed happily and removed your underwear, stepping into the warm bath water. You allowed the water to engulf you as you soaked. It was relaxing, soothing even. You felt refreshed and felt like yourself again, especially after the week you’ve had.

What seemed like a few minutes soon turned into 30 as you heard a few knocks on the door. You perked up, seeing Byeol make her way through the door only to be followed by San’s head.

“How’s my baby girl doing? Feeling relaxed enough?”

He walked over to the counter, placing a warm towel and fuzzy robe down. You tilted your head at him like a dog, confused as to what his mind was thinking. He came and kneeled by the tub, petting your head softly as he kissed your forehead. You smiled, your eyes meeting. You nodded to his question.

“I am, Sannie. Thank you.”

He stood up, walked back to the door, and opened it. As he did so, the fresh smell of breakfast hit your nostrils. Bacon, pancakes, eggs. Smells that made your stomach growl with hunger and tastebuds eager.

“I left some clothes for you on the bed. Try them on for me, will you? Then come eat breakfast with me.”

His eyes beamed through the lens in his glasses as you nodded once again, permitting him to leave the bathroom. You looked at Byeol, who snuggled herself on the mat. She was always so precious to San, but it gave you warmth in your heart to know that you were just as precious to him.

Getting out of the tub, you dried off with the warm towel San had brought for you and wrapped the fluffy robe around you as your feet dipped into your slippers. Opening the door, Byeol made her way out with you following behind. As San said, there were a pair of clothes laid out for you on the bed, nicely placed so they wouldn’t wrinkle. It was a pink turtle neck paired with a pleated denim skirt. You smiled at his choice of fashion, as San always went out of his way to buy you the cutest clothes.

You removed your robe, grabbing some undergarments to wear before putting the outfit on. Without looking in the mirror yet, you slipped on knitted white socks to match and smiled, pleased with the outfit. Before you could get up to admire it, a small knock interrupted you.

San cracked open the door, peeking his head through to see what you were up to. Upon seeing you, he paused, feeling his heart skip a beat. He invited himself into the room, his eyes refusing to turn away from you as your face turned red.

“You look beautiful, baby girl.”

Turning your head away from his gaze, San made his way torward you. As you sat on the bed, his arm reached out to the side of you as he hovered over your figure. He stood above you as he leaned in closer to kiss the side of your neck fondly. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he placed his other hand on your upper thigh, slowly bringing it up. He continued to peck at your neck softly.

“San—”

He pulled away, his eyes meeting your flushed face. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him this morning, as he knew you weren’t always one for displays of affection. However, today he just felt so much love towards you. He wanted to kiss you, hold you, love you, touch you. There was no end to the overflowing amount of adore he felt towards you today that he could not resist.

He pulled you over to the mirror to see the outfit on you as you stood in complete awe. You smiled, hitting a small pose as San stood behind you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple softly.

“I told you. An absolute angel.”

He pulled your hand, allowing you to follow him into the dining room. Different plates of food were placed on the table, from bacon to assorted fruit, to fluffy pancakes, and even some white toast. Your eyes widened in awe seeing the glorious amount of food in front of you. He pulled out a seat for you, gesturing for you to sit down. You took a seat and San pushed the seat in, placing all your favorite foods in front of you so that you could indulge yourself. Smiling, you grabbed a piece of bacon, biting into it happily.

“Mmm, so good.”

You sat at the kitchen table, curious as to why San had left you alone for a moment. You were full from all the breakfast he had made and yet somehow, he managed to eat your leftovers with his food. It was only 11 am and San had already spoiled you so much on this special day.

You heard footsteps approach you as San appeared in your sight of vision again. He was holding a blindfold in his hand, giving you a slight nervous feeling in your stomach. He smirked softly, coming behind you and leaning next to your ear.

“I have a surprise for you, princess.”

Your face turned red as you felt his warm breath hit your neck. He kissed the top of your ear, placing the blindfold around your eyes and tying it lightly. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat, guiding your walking with his own. You held out your other hand for balance, curious as to what surprise was awaiting you.

You both came to a stop. San let go of your hand and came behind you, allowing you to feel his presence brush by you so you weren’t startled. He untied the blindfold, letting it fall on its own into his hands.

Before you, were dozens of rose petals laid against the ground. Heart-shaped balloons covered the ceiling in various areas from red to pink. Candles lit the room up, as San put up darker curtains to set the mood. As you began to walk into the room, you realized more rose petals covering the bed and a small lingerie set sitting nicely on it. You blushed as your breath hitched, San coming up next to you.

“I know you don’t like to reveal yourself, and that’s okay. So, don’t feel pressured to try it on, k?” He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

You eyed the sight, nodding quickly. It was a light pink baby doll set. The spaghetti straps had small butterflies sewn to them. The sides of the lingerie were a sheer pink, and the body’s middle was simply laced with butterflies and flower patterns. A baby pink hem wrapped around the middle of the gown, small ruffles hanging off the cups of it.

You walked over to it, picking it up. You looked up at San as he gestured to the bathroom for you. He gave you a warm smile and you blushed once again, feeling the heat inside of you.

You walked over to the bathroom with the set, closing the door behind you as you went to change your clothes. San waited for you patiently by the window, petting Byeol as he gazed out into the streets. He felt his heart thump louder and louder as he waited for you to come out. He has never felt this nervous for you before, it was a new feeling. Even though he’s seen you in all your beauty thousands of times before, this time was different for him. It was the first Valentine’s as a wedded couple and he wanted to make sure everything went in your favor.

“Well, how does it look..?”

San turned his head to see you standing by the bed shyly. Your hands clasped together as you looked down at your feet, feeling slightly insecure. He admired how nicely the lingerie hugged your figure, how perfectly it enhanced his favorite features about you.

San walked over to you until you caught his feet meeting your own. His hand slowly made its way under your chin. He lifted your head to meet his eyes and smiled at you subtly. You felt your cheeks warm up at his actions, not sure of what to do. He took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.

“You look stunning, princess. Exactly what I envisioned.”

He kissed your forehead softly, picked you up bridally style, and placed you on the bed. You sat there confused, following his body as he walked across the room to take off his hoodie. He had a simple white tank top under, giving you a full show of his broad muscles and shoulders.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as he made his way towards you, smirking with every step he took. He hovered over your body on the bed as he stood and his hand came up to caress your cheek.

“Remember what I said earlier?”

Your breath hitched as he spoke, feeling caught off guard by his sudden question. You stood silent, feeling your body continue to melt under his control.

“I’ll do anything you want today.”

He pulled his hand away from you and climbed onto the bed, his body now hovering over you. Your knee brushed against his member, making you close your eyes in embarrassment.

“Tell me, princess,” he laid a soft kiss against your neck, soon making his way down to what was exposed of your chest.

“What do you want from me?”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did hehe🤭 Was literally giggling and kicking my feet writing this. Again, sorry for such the long wait!

Taglist: @skzline @evidive @kittykat-25 @amuromio @xoxkii @losrpark @classyrbf @sundaybossanova @owmoiralover @vrtualsins @sanslovesblog @honeyhwaaa @mingisbbokari @scarfac3

*comment to be apart of future taglists!*

[sketches4mysw33theart]

To Indeed Be A God

The title has almost no bearing whatsoever on the writing, I'm just obsessed with the Dead Poets Society right now.

Pairing: Henry Winter (The Secret History)

Summary: A drowsy morning at the country house with Henry Winter involves a row around the lake, a breakfast picnic, and falling asleep in the boat.

Warnings: Google translated phrases, please let me know if these are wrong!

Check out my previous Henry Winter piece!

I awoke to a throbbing in my head, a contrasting harmony to the soft twittering of birds floating in through the open window. I couldn’t resist the groan that forced its way from my mouth. It felt as though my head was being split open repeatedly, like a misguided executioner was standing at the head of my bed and swinging an unsharpened axe.  

It was several moments before I moved at all after I had rolled over, my body feeling scarily heavy yet weightless at the same time. I had little desire to so much as breathe manually, let alone open my eyes and face the merciless joy of the sunlight.  

As I lay there, eyes closed firmly, hands grasping the thin silk duvet, flashes of the previous night came to me as though through a camera’s lens.  

The dinner, a large affair to mourn the passing of the twin’s beloved dog. The wine sloshing in the Abernathy’s prized crystal wine glasses. Those same glasses raised in multiple toasts and clinking together like blood-soaked moths in the candlelight. Charles at the piano playing melodies of sweet summers past. The bottle of Bourbon passed between us without a care for tumblers. Francis plucking Camilla from the armchair she had curled herself up in to stumble around the library in a clunky dance. Bunny’s face, lined with confusion and acidity, watching us all through rolling eyes. Richard’s reflection, gaping at the chandelier-lit room through dazed eyes, as I stared out of the window, looking for stars but finding only my own distorted face.  

And Henry, tall and proud and stoic and quiet. Him I could picture clearly, as sharp and focused as a still life portrait. He’d drank as much as us, more, yet he’d never fizzed over like we did. Only watched from the sofa as we exploded like fireworks, flashing reds and yellows reflected twofold in the whites of his eyes through his glasses.  

Then, me falling into place beside him, head spinning in dizzying circles even as I laid it back on the plush sofa cushions with my eyes shut, light popping behind my eyelids.  

Then, him whispering to me, the soft, cold anchoring of his deep voice, but either I couldn’t tell what he was saying, or I was not in tune enough to listen.  

Then, I was there, waking up in bed. 

I opened my eyes when the pounding in my head began to lessen, allowing the bird song to wash over me rather than suffocate me. The thick curtains were open, weak sunlight creeping across the oak floor and furnishings, lighting them up like whisky. It was cool, that early morning chill before the last of the lingering summer heat could settle in again.  

I watched the floor for several minutes, praying for my headache to cease. Of course, praying never did anyone much good. Henry would be disappointed.  

I didn’t have a clock in the room I stayed in during nights at the country house. Francis’s great aunt, whose room that used to be, couldn’t stand them. She felt they made her rush.  

Still, I could guess it was early. There was no noise. Francis wasn’t singing in the kitchen as he made breakfast, Charles and Camilla weren’t bickering meaninglessly in the depths of the house, Bunny wasn’t honking his laugh at some ridiculous jibe. There was nothing except pure tranquillity.  

I knew of one other person, for certain, who would be up so early. That was motivation enough to get out of bed. Still, it was a struggle. My body fought it as I sat up, pushed myself to my feet, scrabbled through my bag for clothes, and checked myself over in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. 

Finally, I exited the room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. The hallway was quiet, eerily so, and I paced down it, focusing on the soft, luxurious carpet against my bare feet over the pounding of my head. 

On the stairs at the end of the hallway, Francis was curled up, still fully dressed, like a small child unable to stay conscious on a drive back from the beach, snoring obnoxiously and fiercely cuddling a near-empty bottle of whiskey. His overcoat tails were tangled between his bent legs, pale, slender ankles poking out conspicuously from his half pulled-off socks. In the country house, this was not an uncommon occurrence. 

I clambered over him, trying not to catch his limbs or face with my foot. As though sensing my presence as he slumbered, Francis uncurled his body, spreading himself out across several steps and out of the way of my bare feet. Smiling, I leant down to pat him gently on the cheek, careful not to disturb him. He looked incredibly peaceful, for once.  

I left Francis on the stairs, snoring in the shadows of the half-shuttered windows, and headed towards the library. There was a fair chance Henry would be there and, if not, I would likely spot him on my way over. 

As expected, it did not take me long. Henry valued the morning hours, the weak light illuminating the thick pages of his books, the quietness of a dawn tainted only by the songs of the birds.  

He was sat outside, of course, fully dressed, a suited silhouette through the ornate glass doors, a splatter of ink against the canvas of autumn. Although I pushed open the doors as softly as I could, his head shot up as soon as it began to squeak. 

“Good morning,” he said, with a smile. “Drink up.” A slight gesture of his hand brought to my attention a full glass of water and a sleeve of ibuprofen sparkling in the cool, creeping light. 

“Good morning,” I mumbled, fumbling with the package in my desperation to push out two of the pills. When I managed to do so, I swallowed them quickly with a large gulp of water, which I drained gladly straight after.  

Once I’d swiped at my lips, I took the few steps to his seat. Standing behind him, I rested my hands on his broad shoulders and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. I caught the smile on his face, which did little to lessen the furrow of his brow. 

“How’s the translation going?” 

This question elicited a heavy sigh from him. “It’s all wrong, unfortunately. The verbs won’t translate well, and these sentence structures are ridiculously tricky.” 

“Boreís na to káneis éfkola agápi mou,” I breathed into his ear, bringing my fingertips to his sharp shoulder blades. You can do it easily, my love. 

He laughed. “Óchi ótan eísai étsi, den boró.” Not when you’re like this, I can’t. 

I hummed humorously, spreading my massaging fingertips along his taut shoulders. Spread out before us was the house’s garden, as pure and fierce as Eden, coming swiftly to life in front of my eyes. The sun was just emerging, lingering in the far east like God, watching His creations come to life as on the seventh day. Henry was watching it too, finally relieving himself of his books in favour of the glitter of the autumnal flowers, Gomphrena and Didiscus and Goldenrod. 

It wasn’t often I was up early enough to catch Henry on mornings like this. Despite our circumstances, we never shared a bed during our stays at the country house, primarily because Henry didn’t want to disturb me during our short vacations, or so he said. But also, because, I believe, he was rather shy about our activities around the rest of the Greek class. They knew, of course – we were never as subtle as we thought - but, still, there was something prudish lying within Henry. Or perhaps it was possessive. Not that it matters now, I suppose. 

“Let’s go to the lake,” he said, suddenly, startling me from my observance of a large bee bumbling its way drunkenly through a flowerbed.  

“Now?” I questioned, surprised. Henry enjoyed the mornings because of the quiet solitude they offered him, the time to be alone with his books and his papers. Things he valued even more, I think, than me. 

“Would you like to?”  

I was still sleepy, even more so after taking the ibuprofen Henry had laid out. Still, I could picture how lovely it would be: the drowsy, sun-laced walk through the dandelions and uncut grasses, the heady smell of nature flourishing around us, the somniferous sound of waves lapping at the gently rocking boat, the mesmerizing feeling of floating on air. 

“Yes,” I said, “I would, actually.” Henry was always confidently persuasive. Eerily so. Not that I would have needed much persuading, really. I just liked to think there was something magic about him.  

He sighed, stretching out his aching limbs as he got to his feet. Pre-emptively, he removed his jacket and folded it meticulously, leaving it on the seat of his chair. “Good. Perhaps we should take breakfast with us?” 

It was a wonderful idea, and we slipped back inside to prepare a breakfast picnic: a full bottle of orange juice, a half-full stoppered bottle of champagne left over from the previous night, a package of strawberries, a selection of pastries bought from Camilla’s favourite bakery on our way to the country house the previous morning, and a packet of large blueberry muffins.  

With our breakfast packed in an old wicker basket, we set off into the morning sun, meandering through the budding flowers and tall grasses, clasped arm in arm. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to the lake, but we lingered meaninglessly on the way, I to admire the nature and wildlife, and Henry to momentarily relieve his arm of the picnic basket and watch me with a smile when he thought I couldn’t see him. 

Eventually, we made it, and eagerly hopped into the lonesome boat oared at the makeshift jetty, picnic basket still in hand. Considering it was so early, Henry was alive with vigour, and rowed eagerly, pushing us quickly to the centre of the lake. He had been somewhat withdrawn over the last few weeks, particularly during our days at the country house, so seeing him come to life among the falling birch leaves was a gift.  

We covered one lap of the lake at a fairly quick pace, talking about our latest classes, Julian’s theory of Dionysiac architects (which was, essentially, that the secret language they spoke was more akin to modern day English than any other language throughout history), and the startling resemblance that morning of the pond and surrounding countryside to Jan Brueghel the Elder’s ‘Odysseus and Calypso’ - one of my favourite paintings.  

Henry slowed as we began our second lap of the lake, and I watched his concentrated expression in the water’s reflection.  

“Aren’t you tired?” I was feeling a little peppier now, despite the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping gently at the boat, and I knew Henry had been up significantly longer than I had. “Can I take over?”  

“No, you don’t have to do anything.” I was still watching him in the warped shine of the water, and he caught my eye through the fairy-dust covering of birch leaves. “Just sit right there and look like you do.” A smile flittered across his face briefly, and I shook my head, laughing.  

“If you say so,” I said, still laughing. Henry rowed on and began to fill the silence with his stream of thoughts on Heraclitus’ ideas of opposites, and how the philosopher decreed Hades and Dionysus as the same God, a belief Henry was strongly against. Occasionally he’d break his speech to mumble a suggestion for his translation, which he no doubt tucked away into another corner of his mind for later. 

At some point, I lay back across the seat of the boat, head coming to rest on the lip, one hand stretching over to trail in the lukewarm water. Francis had said once that one of the neighbours had seen leeches in the lake, and Bunny always swore blind that there were water snakes in there. Yet, still, we all went out on it as often as we could, swimming and fighting and trailing our hands through the ripples.  

Listening to Henry speak tantrically and feeling the warm water kiss my fingertips was as delicious and satisfying as being carried in Charon’s boat across the rivers separating the worlds of the living and the dead. I wanted it to last forever. The best kind of purgatory. Psuche. 

But eventually, we did come to a stop, once Henry, with some difficulty, had managed to turn the boat and situate it towards the centre of the lake. I sat up and stretched, groaning at the creak of my bones.  

As I heaved the picnic basket up on to the seat, Henry balanced the oars properly, wiped at his brow, and rolled up his sleeves, eying the cutlery and plates I was laying out. He must have been starving.  

I looked to him to ask if he had any preference for pastries as I began doling out them onto our plates, but the question died on my lips when I saw a constellation of bruises flowering in a strange pattern along his freshly revealed arm. They were fresh, a shocking purple tinted with red. 

“Henry,” I exclaimed, croissant held in one frozen hand. “What in God’s name have you been doing?” 

He furrowed his brows at me, following my eye line quickly. I saw him flounder for a moment, but in a flash, he was as composed as the Queen’s Guard.  

“Don’t fuss, it’s nothing. I fell in the garden yesterday morning, those damn dogs left more garbage on my front path. Is that for me?” 

I believed him, of course. It was a perfectly sensible answer, and certainly not the first time something like that had happened. If only I’d known... 

I gave him the croissant, and finished plating up the food as he poured two Mimosas into the old teacups we’d packed, using far more champagne than orange juice. We ate in a comfortable silence, broken sporadically by random thoughts and anecdotes; we were both slipping into fatigue once more now the sun was fully risen, not too warm against our skin, and the inebriating smells of flowers and the birch trees were reaching out to us, woody and smoky like winter night’s gone by.  

Four Mimosa’s later (between us), we had finished our breakfast, and were lying, nearly unconscious, in the boat, which was very slowly bobbing its own way around the lake once more. Henry was stretched out completely, arms acting as a pillow, and I was tucked in on my side next to him, resting my head on the broad stretch between his shoulder and chest. 

God knows how long we stayed there in the boat, moving listlessly without direction or need, bumping lightly against the bank until one of us made the effort to lift a foot and push us away, listening to the birds' tweet and fly above us, feeling the gentle caress of the birch leaves across her skin, hearing the soft intermingling of our breaths just over the gently lapping water as it granted us passage, seeing the shades of light and dark through the shield of our eyelids. Zoe. The divine life of God. 

When we were roused, the air, the very nature around us felt different, alive, charged. The sun was crawling towards the centre of the sky, but several dark clouds were on its heels. Hours must have passed.  

I came back to life first, awaking as though from death’s sleep, drowsy and confused. What came to me, however, was the distant call of my name, the familiar cadence of the voice. Francis. It was Francis.  

As his shouting got closer and slightly more frantic, I pushed myself up with one hand braced against the smooth wood of the boat’s sole, using the other to first wipe the sleep from my eyes and then shield them from the sun.  

Francis was on the far bank, heading towards the small jetty, and waving his arms as though welcoming in a plane. He was, I noticed with some amusement, still wearing the same clothes he was in when I’d stepped over him that morning. I waved my free hand at him, and he shouted my name again. “Are you insane? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Is Henry with you? It’s gone 12, you know.” 

I couldn’t muster up the energy to respond to him, but I did lay a hand on Henry’s shoulder to shake him awake. With a bit of resistance, he came to, and sat up in the same sluggish manner as me, stretching out his arms, back, and neck. 

Francis called to him now. “Henry? Henry! Bring the damn boat in, will you? Julian’s coming to dinner tonight, and I need everything to be ready.” 

Henry waved his fingers at him, a dismissive acknowledgement, a king sending away a disobedient courtier. Finally, he opened his eyes, landing his gaze directly on me. He smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth so quickly I did not have time to respond. “Piso ston politismó,” he said lowly, a melancholy look setting in his features. Back to civilization.  

He situated himself carefully on the seat while I stayed where I was watching him like I was at the feet of one the post-Socratics. He picked up the oars once more and started rowing us back to bios. Back to life. 

[fawnsflowerbed]

leon x pregnant reader 🥹 you can choose the plot. just fluffy smut or just a fluffy fic. i love your leon writings

Thank you my love!! AlsO UGHHH YES THIS IS ADORABLE I LOVE IT!!!

Leon always wanted that classic white picket fence life with a loving spouse and a child. A perfect little life to call his own. Now that you’re well into your pregnancy, he feels the need to express just how much he loves you.

Warnings/content: Fem reader, 2nd person (you/yours), RE6 Leon, domestic bliss vibe, BIG OL’ FLUFFBALL!!

Word count: 2,400 (est)

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

All of those stories about motherhood being a blessing, glowing experience where you get to connect with yourself and your child on a cosmic level? 

Absolute bullshit. You were due in about 14 weeks and wanted this thing out. Did you love them? 100 percent. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss the days where leaning down didn’t feel like you were being stabbed in every muscle imaginable, or when you could actually sleep. Not to mention some days you marvelled at how a life was about to be brought into the world thanks to you and others you sat crying in Leon’s arms about how fat you were because you’d easily outgrown all of your clothes and some shoes thanks to the swelling. Hormones. Hormones were the devil.

But it was true, you found yourself running your hand over the rather firm skin of your belly in the sun streaming through the kitchen window, trying to ignore the ache in your feet whilst you stood in front of the sink. You could somewhat feel it, that bliss and awe of knowing there was a life growing inside of you. One that you’d made. No matter how sore you were, no matter how big your belly, you refused to be helpless. So you stood, glass in hand over hot soapy water. You gave it a final wipe down before setting it in the drying rack. Next you moved onto a plate.

“Excuse me miss, but you should be laying down.”

Leon’s voice had you turning to see him enter the kitchen, fresh from work but ever so happy despite his busy schedule. He’d been that way ever since you’d found out about your little one, a beacon of light and domestic joy. You hadn’t seen him this happy in a while, although there were a few occasions where he seemed this joyful; the afternoon he asked you out, the night he proposed, your wedding day, when you announced your pregnancy to him. He was happy around you, but positively ecstatic at those times.

“We’re lucky I’m even doing this without rushing to the bathroom again.” You scoffed.

His hands were resting under the weight of your swollen stomach, lifting up slightly to take some of the pressure off of your back. You had those pregnancy books to thank, Leon had studied those things like they were a mission briefing. He wanted to be fully prepared for up until the baby arrived, and that included keeping his beloved wife as comfortable as possible.

You groaned out with a creased brow of relief, lulling your head back against his shoulder. “God, that's so much better. Also I’m already on Kennedy house arrest, might as well keep myself busy while you’re gone.” 

He nuzzled his nose affectionately into the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Yeah well I won’t be gone anymore. I’m talking to the board about family leave, considering the fact that junior is giving you hell.”

You frowned at him. “Baby, I'm not due for another three months.”

“First off, doctor said it’s actually 14 weeks.”

That earned him an eye roll. “Same thing, smartass.”

“Second, better safe than sorry. You’re still prone to swelling, and we’re more than comfortable money wise.” 

“How can I not be safe when I’m walking around with a husband for an ankle monitor?”

A grin crept up his face with a slight shrug, ensuring not to disturb you nestled into his shoulder. “At least I’m a handsome one.”

True, the morning sickness was a pain in the ass, stomach, throat and mouth and half the time the smell of certain things like citrus had you rushing to the toilet to throw your guts up, but god if you didn’t love moments like these. Where all you had to focus on was each other and the life you were building together, despite the world constantly trying to fall out from under your feet. This sense of normality amongst the chaos of Leon’s career and the strain it put on your lives that you both powered through, fighting for one another. And now you were both willing to fight for your child and the home you’d spent so much time working for.

With gentle hands he slowly lowered your belly back down much to your dismay, gaining him a disappointed moan as you felt the weight of your unborn baby drag you back down. He then reached around you to take the dish from your hand. Unwillingly you let him.

“Alright, off you go. Rest up on the couch.”

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass.” You grumbled. 

A sweet kiss to the cheek was the closest thing to an apology you got for his statement. “Well you might as well be. I love you sweetheart, but you’ve always been accident prone, pregnant or not.” He took a step back to allow you to slip out of his arms. “Go on now.”

So you did just that, taking your step by step waddle away from the sink and into the doorway of the living room. But not before calling back to Leon.

“Alright, but I’m still cooking dinner! You aren’t allowed near that stove!”

You could hear him huffing from where you stood. “You burn water once, I swear.” He turned his head into the living room for you to hear. “And you aren’t any better, your tastes have gotten weird.”

You couldn’t help but scowl playfully, shouting back. “It’s called cravings! Complain about it when you’ve got a 7 something kilogram bowling ball using your organs as a pillow!”

You were now making some kind of attempt to take a nap but god only knows that was impossible when your child was swimming olympic laps through your uterus and making a very rough effort to barge at your pelvis.

It was time for some mama to baby talk. You pressed both hands to your stomach, whispering down at your unborn baby.

“Listen here, kid. You’re gonna get the shit loved out of you when you get out of me, so how about cutting your mum some slack for now, yeah? Might even score you a puppy.”

“Are you making empty promises because Tiny’s putting stress on you?” Clearly finished with your job and likely planning to order something for dinner, Leon came in to see you talking down at your swollen belly.

“Not like they’ve been using my bladder as a trampoline since forever. Oh, and playing hide and seek around my goddamn ribcage. Perks of their daddy being a government agent, your stupid strength must be hereditary.”

He gave you a shit-eating smile, taking a knee down next to you as you stayed laying on the sofa. “I’m flattered. Means they’ll be a worthy crash tackle competitor.”

Another frown. “You crash tackle our child in the house and I’m putting you in time out.”

“Yowch. Got it.”

Once again you felt the short-lived embrace of domestic bliss, both of you staring intently at the roundness of your body thanks to the life growing inside of you. But something was still eating away at you.

You took his hand in yours to catch his attention. Leon turned to look at you, now seeing the concern on your face.“You’re not- scared, are you? Or is that just me?”

His light chuckle hit your ears as a sign of comfort. “Oh honey I’m petrified. This is scarier than anything I’ve ever done. But I know it’ll be worth it.”

You ran your thumb across his knuckles. “We both waited long enough for this.”

“God, if that ain’t the truth.” He swallowed, eyes looking down for a moment before he looked back up into yours. This time with a touch of sadness and longing. “I never- I never thought I’d get to have a family after everything that happened. After being strung along by my job day after day I thought I’d never have that life I always dreamed of having. But then I found you.”

A loving squeeze to his hand in return to his loving nature, followed by your own joke to lift him back up. “Yeah and your swimmer found the egg, asshole.”

Just as you planned he was smiling, leaning up and over to kiss at your forehead. “Grouch all you want, sweetheart. You’re allowed to, considering the fact that you’ve been carrying around an extra tiny human.” Then his hand was leaving yours to rest on your belly. “I just- I love you so much, and if this baby is anything like you then I’m confident we’ll be okay.”

You’d marry this man for a thousand lifetimes if you could. Leon had been nothing short of a saint to you ever since you’d met, and the glow of dating turning into marriage and then parenthood had made your bond stronger than ever.

Maybe it was from seeing you talking to them or maybe it was that fatherly instinct but Leon was now craning his neck down to start talking at your stomach.

“Don’t you go being too much like your papa, okay? You can take my rugged looks and cunning wit, and definitely my humour. But you’re gonna have your mama's heart. And hopefully her laugh.” He turned to you for a second. “Man, can you imagine if they have your laugh?” Now back to the baby. “You just wait until you can hear it properly, junior. Your mother has the most amazing laugh.”

You shrugged through sore shoulders. “It’s not that great.”

Your husband was quick to disagree. “I’m sure the baby thinks otherwise.”

“Well-”

And then there it was. A hard budge to the swollen shell of your stomach, right next to Leon’s hand as if reaching out at him. 

The first full forced movement. 

You both instantly looked at each other in awe despite your obvious discomfort.

Leon stumbled for a moment. “Holy shit, did-”

“That was a kick. The baby kicked.”

If you thought he was smiling before this he was now positively beaming with pride, drawn right back down to your child. “A kick. That was a kick! It’s like she hears me, oh my god.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, she?”

“I’ve got a knack for these things, your cravings gave it away.”

“Okay the fact that I wanted strawberries and cheese does not prove your theory, that’s a myth. They just made it look really good in Ratatouille.”

“Yes, and our daughter made you so emotional you cried when Remy got kicked out of the kitchen but that’s besides the point.” His ear was pressed right up against you, head tilted slightly against your tummy to speak against your skin to the baby in a soft voice. “Hey baby girl, do you hear me? You hear your daddy?”

Another swift kick, one that had you resting your own hand on your stomach with squinted eyes. Yup, strong like their dad. But you didn’t want to complain too much, not when Leon sat with his eyes wide and teary in absolute delight and awe. With two large hands cradling either side of your belly and an ear up to your skin almost in disbelief. The joys of fatherhood were hitting him all at once and it was nothing short of beautiful to witness.

“It’s like I can hear her heartbeat. There’s- that’s our baby. That’s our baby in there.” He was saying it quietly, as if to himself out of shock of the life inside of you.

“Lee, you’re crying.” You acknowledged with a saddened tone, wiping a stray tear from under your husband’s eye without even acknowledging your own thanks to your rushing hormones. “Honey, are you okay?”

No response, not yet anyway. He was still too busy memorising the way your child was responding to him. When the haze lessened just a smidge, Leon leaned up to rest his forehead against yours, a wide smile on his face as he spoke in a hushed whisper.

“I’m just so happy.”

Your heart could’ve broken right then and there. All Leon ever dreamt about was a family, ever since before Raccoon City. And he thought that dream was lost forever along with the place he’d sworn to protect on that day, but now it was your shared reality. He was about to have a baby with the love of his life, and he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Thank you, love. Thank you.”

You smiled right back, a smile short lived as you groaned out in pain, feeling the baby barging up against your bladder. That was your warning. “Oh yeah we gotta move. Bathroom.”

He shook his head slightly with a light-hearted scoff, blinking back up his tears. “On it.”

That was the cue for him to shift so you could waddle your way on sore feet to the bathroom, somewhat of a ritual at this point. If you weren’t overwhelmed with emotions or begging the baby to let you sleep, you were peeing. Leon stood outside the toilet as you finished up, leaning against the wall as you continued your conversation.

“I’m gonna hate you when this thing comes out.” You called out from the bathroom while drying off your hands, your voice echoing off the tiles before coming back out to join him.

Leon seemed to be the one glowing throughout your pregnancy, and he was showing it off right now in the way he stared at you like you were the most heavenly thing to walk the earth. He found you beautiful before you were pregnant, the most beautiful person in the world, but seeing you bearing his child just made you so much more gorgeous to him. “I’ve been warned of labour hate, I’m ready for it and the thousands of swear words.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, settled against the wall with his hands on your hips. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much that you have no idea. Thank you, for all of this. For letting me have you. You and our tiny.”

“We love you too, Lee. But get me pregnant again and I’ll have you neutered.”

[xthejazzdalorianx]

Chapter Two ~ Against The Odds

pairing(s): logan (the wolverine) howlett x non-mutant!f!reader, uncle!wade (deadpool) wilson x non-mutant!f!reader, grandma!althea x non-mutant!f!reader

warning(s): explicit, minors do not interact! SMUT SMUT SMUT, plot with porn, yearning, needy, fluff, p in v sex, oral sex, sexual tension, wholesome, family, baby fever (to me because i want a baby lol), wade being a girl dad???

a/n: hello, this is a continuation of Chapter One ~ Fragile. i honestly don’t know how many chapters this will be, but i am very excited to release this one. it is a much longer read, but it is literally wade being such a girl dad. in a way, having wade and althea live with the reader and her daughter really teaches them to be better in a sense. either way, i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did! let me know if there are any errors. :) <3

word count: 6.1k

- - - - - - -

summary: in this chapter, the bond between mara and you, as her mother, deepens as you navigate life after logan. with wade as a vital support, you enjoy a day at the park, where mara’s innocent questions about her father lead to heartfelt discussions on love and family. your emotional journey toward accepting love reemerges through your growing feelings for wade, highlighting themes of healing, family connection, and the complexities of moving on.

- - - - - - -

It had been a couple of years since your beloved daughter, Mara Howlett, was born. She showed her intelligence by imitating her first words, which weren't "mama" but "Uncle Wade." It was a heartwarming moment. Mara and Wade were already playing together and running around the house, engaging in games of hide-and-seek. Every morning, they cooked breakfast together and brought it to you in bed.

Uncle Wade had always been there for support, and even Grandma Althea, who was blind, pitched in financially as much as she could. To help with expenses and ensure that your little one had everything she needed, you took on a job at the nearby grocery store. As you worked long hours stocking shelves and checking out customers, your mind was always consumed with thoughts of your precious daughter and how grateful you were to have her in your life.

She was your light, your reason for pushing through the exhaustion and tedium. Every time you felt your eyelids growing heavy or your feet aching from hours of standing, you pictured her smile, her tiny hand in yours. You imagined the moment you'd walk through the door and she'd come running, arms outstretched, shouting "Mommy!" with unbridled joy.

During your short breaks, you'd sneak a peek at the photos on your phone - her first steps and the two of you with Wade at the beach last weekend. They never failed to bring a smile to your face, even on the toughest days.

As you restocked cans of soup and boxes of cereal, you made mental notes of items she might like for her lunchbox. When ringing up customers, you'd spot a toy or book she'd love, setting aside a mental reminder to pick it up later. Every decision, every action, seemed to revolve around her now.

The store's bell chimed, and you glanced up to see Mrs. Henderson shuffling in, her weathered hands gripping her walker. You smiled, already reaching for her usual items before she made it to the counter.

"How's that daughter of yours?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind thick glasses.

"Growing like a weed," you replied, your chest swelling with pride. "She starts kindergarten week."

Mrs. Henderson clucked her tongue. "My, how time flies. Seems like just yesterday you were telling me she'd been born."

As you bagged her groceries, your mind wandered to the little girl waiting for you at home. You imagined her curled up on the couch, engrossed in her favorite cartoon, and holding her favorite stuffed unicorn.

It was moments like these that made life feel simple and complete again. But then those thoughts would be interrupted by memories of Logan, the father of your child. Mara's blue eyes and black hair were a constant reminder of him, even though he wasn't there with you.

Some nights, the pain would become too much and you would wake up crying, only to have Wade embrace you until you fell back asleep. He had been so supportive and present lately...but did that mean you were falling for him? Could you actually love someone else after everything Logan put you through? It didn't seem fair to Wade, but then again, he wouldn't hurt you. Maybe you can talk to him about it when you get home.

"All done, Mrs. Henderson," you say, handing her the bags. "Have a great day."

As she shuffles out, you glance at the clock. Your shift is almost over. Just a few more customers and you can head home to Mara, Wade, and Althea.

The next person in line steps forward, and you force a smile. But your mind is elsewhere, grappling with the swirl of emotions that have become your constant companions.

Later, as you drive home, you rehearse what you might say to Wade. The words tumble around in your head, never quite falling into place. How do you explain the tangle of grief, gratitude, and budding affection?

- - - - - - -

As you drive into the parking structure of your apartment complex, you park and make your way up the stairs to your shared apartment. The sound of laughter greets you as you approach the door. You smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort. You quickly grab your keys and unlock the door.

You enter the room and witness him playing with Mara. Her laughter echoes throughout the space as she rides on his back, her hair flowing behind her. Your heart feels full as you watch them, overwhelmed with love.

"Mommy!" Mara squeals, spotting you in the doorway. She scrambles off Wade's back and runs toward you, her little arms outstretched. You scoop her up, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the softness of her cheek against yours.

"Hey, sweetheart," you murmur, holding her close. "Did you have a good day with Uncle Wade?"

She nods enthusiastically. "We made a fort and had a tea party with Mr. Unicorn!"

Wade stands up, brushing off his knees. His smile is warm, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes. Concern? Uncertainty?

“Hey there, welcome home!” he says, sauntering over with the enthusiasm of a kid who’s just seen their favorite movie. “How was the grind today? Did you dodge any major disasters, or was it more of a ‘stuck in traffic’ kind of day? Either way, I’m here to make it all better—snacks and terrible jokes included.”

You set Mara down, and she immediately tugs on your hand. "Mommy, come see our fort!"

You follow Mara to the living room, where an impressive structure of blankets and pillows dominates the space. "Wow, sweetie, this is amazing!" you exclaim, crouching down to peek inside.

"Uncle Wade helped me build it," Mara says proudly. "We even have a secret password to get in!"

As you admire the fort, you feel Wade's presence behind you. His hand briefly touches your shoulder, a gesture of support that sends a small shiver through you.

He gently comments, “You look like you’ve been wrestling with a bear and lost. How about you kick back and let me whip up some dinner? I promise not to set the kitchen on fire this time.”

You turn to face him, your initial reaction is to chuckle but then you feel a pull on your heartstrings. You are taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. These moments leave you feeling torn and wistful. "Thank you, Wade. That would be wonderful."

- - - - - - -

As Wade heads to the kitchen, you settle into the fort with Mara, listening intently as she recounts her day's adventures. The soft glow of fairy lights strung inside the blanket structure casts a warm, comforting light on her animated face. You can't help but marvel at her boundless energy and imagination.

"And then, Mommy, Uncle Wade pretended to be a dragon, and I had to save Mr. Unicorn from his evil clutches!" Mara giggles, hugging her stuffed unicorn tightly.

You smile, running your fingers through her silky black hair. "That sounds like quite the adventure, sweetheart. Was Uncle Wade a scary dragon?"

Mara shakes her head emphatically. "No, he was a silly dragon. He kept making funny faces and tripping over his own tail!"

The sound of pots clanging in the kitchen momentarily distracts you both. Mara's eyes widen with excitement.

"Ooh, I think Uncle Wade is making his special pancakes!" she exclaims, bouncing on her knees.

A chuckle escapes your lips, as you recall Wade's infamous "special pancakes" that are always loaded with an excessive amount of chocolate chips and whipped cream. "Maybe you're onto something. But at this time of night? I suppose... we should lend him a hand?"

Mara shakes her head vigorously, her pigtails swinging. "No, no! We have to stay here and protect the fort from the tickle monster!"

"The tickle monster?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Mara nods seriously. "Uncle Wade said the tickle monster comes out when little girls don't eat all their vegetables. But I ate all my broccoli at lunch, so I'll protect you from the tickle monster!"

You can't help but laugh at her earnest declaration. "Well, I'm glad I have such a brave protector. But maybe we should check on Uncle Wade, just to make sure he's not burning down the kitchen?"

Mara considers this for a moment, then nods. "Okay, but we have to be really quiet so the tickle monster doesn't hear us!"

Hand in hand, you and Mara tiptoe out of the fort and towards the kitchen. The smell of butter and vanilla wafts through the air, confirming your suspicions about the pancakes.

As you round the corner, you see Wade at the stove, his back to you. He's wearing an apron that says "I’m Not Actually a Cook, I Just Play One in the Kitchen" and humming off-key to himself as he flips a pancake with impressive flair.

Mara giggles, alerting Wade to your presence. He spins around, spatula in hand, a comically exaggerated look of surprise on his face.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here? A couple of fort-dwellers venturing out into the wild?" he says, grinning. "I hope you're ready for the breakfast-for-dinner showdown of the century! Spoiler alert: it’s going to be epic."

Mara runs up to him, bouncing on her toes. "Are you making your special pancakes, Uncle Wade?"

"You bet I am, munchkin!" Wade ruffles her hair. "And I've got a super secret ingredient this time. Want to know what it is?"

Mara nods eagerly, and Wade leans down to whisper dramatically in her ear. Her eyes widen, and she lets out a delighted gasp.

Rainbow sprinkles!" Mara exclaims, clapping her hands with glee. "Can I help put them on, Uncle Wade? Please?"

Wade pretends to consider it, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know. Sprinkling rainbows is a very important job. Do you think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, yes!" Mara bounces on her toes, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Alright then, my little sous chef," Wade says, lifting her up to sit on the counter. "But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. And also a lot of colorful mess."

- - - - - - -

You lean against the wall, watching as Wade guides Mara's hand, showing her how to sprinkle just the right amount of rainbow bits onto each pancake. The sight of them together, laughing and working in tandem, makes your heart swell with a mix of emotions you can't quite name.

"Hey, don't just stand there looking pretty," Wade calls out to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come join the pancake party!”

You push off from the wall, shaking your head with a smile. "Someone's got to be the responsible adult here," you tease, but you move closer anyway.

"Responsible? In this kitchen? I don't think so," Wade quips, flipping another pancake with unnecessary flair. "We left responsible at the door, along with our dignity and our fear of sugar crashes."

As you approach the stove, the warmth from the griddle and the sweet aroma of pancakes envelop you. Wade hands you a spatula with a flourish.

"Your turn, chef," he says with a wink. "Show us how it's done."

You take the spatula, your fingers brushing against his for a moment. The touch sends a small jolt through you, and you quickly focus on the task at hand.

"Alright, let's see if I remember how to do this," you say, positioning yourself in front of the stove.

As you pour the batter onto the hot surface, Mara cheers from her perch on the counter. "Go, Mommy! Make it a unicorn shape!"

You laugh, attempting to form the batter into something vaguely unicorn-like. "I'm not sure if this is a unicorn or a blob with a horn, but we'll call it artistic license," you say, chuckling as you watch the misshapen pancake sizzle.

Wade leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours as he inspects your creation. "I'd say it's more of an abstract expressionist unicorn. Very avant-garde."

His closeness makes your heart skip a beat, and you fumble slightly with the spatula. Wade's hand quickly covers yours, steadying your grip.

"Careful there," he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. "We don't want any pancake casualties."

You turn your head slightly, suddenly aware of how close his face is to yours. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the kitchen fading away except for his eyes, warm and full of an emotion you're afraid to name.

"Mommy, it's bubbling!" Mara's excited voice breaks the moment. You blink, coming back to reality, and quickly flip the pancake.

"Nice save," Wade says, stepping back with a small smile. "I think you've got the hang of it now."

You nod, unable to find your voice for a moment. The pancake sizzles on the griddle, filling the silence.

"Can I put sprinkles on this one too, Uncle Wade?" Mara asks, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Of course, kiddo," Wade replies, his voice cheerful as he hands her the sprinkle shaker. "Just remember, a little goes a long way."

As Mara carefully sprinkles the rainbow bits onto the cooking pancake, you steal a glance at Wade. He's watching Mara with a soft expression, his eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine affection. The sight makes your heart ache in a way you can't quite define.

As the evening progresses, the kitchen fills with laughter and the sweet aroma of pancakes. Mara's excitement is contagious, and soon you find yourself relaxing, the stress of the workday melting away. Wade keeps the mood light with his jokes and silly antics, but you catch him watching you with a soft, thoughtful expression when he thinks you're not looking.

- - - - - - -

After dinner, as you're helping Mara get ready for bed, she asks, "Mommy, can Uncle Wade read me a bedtime story tonight?"

You hesitate for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions. "Sure, sweetie," you finally say. "If Uncle Wade doesn't mind."

Wade, who's been cleaning up in the kitchen, pops his head into the room. "Did someone say bedtime story? I thought I heard my cue. What'll it be tonight, munchkin? 'The Princess and the Pea' or 'Wade's Totally Awesome and Definitely True Adventures'?"

Mara giggles, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "The Wade story! Please, please!"

You can't help but smile as Wade dramatically clears his throat and settles into the chair beside Mara's bed. "Alright, gather 'round, young padawan. Let me tell you about the time I saved the entire world from an invasion of sentient, evil broccoli..."

As Wade launches into his fantastical tale, complete with silly voices and exaggerated gestures, you lean against the doorframe, watching. The sight of them together fills you with a bittersweet warmth. Mara's eyes are wide with wonder, hanging on Wade's every word, and Wade is fully immersed in his storytelling, his face animated and full of joy.

You can't help but think of Logan, wondering if he would have been this way with Mara. The thought sends a familiar pang through your chest, but it's dulled now, softened by the scene before you.

As Wade's story reaches its climax, with him dramatically reenacting a showdown between himself and the Broccoli King, Mara's giggles turn into yawns. Her eyelids start to droop, even as she fights to stay awake.

"And so," Wade says, his voice softening as he notices Mara's drooping eyelids, "the day was saved, the evil broccoli was turned into a delicious soup, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end."

Mara yawns widely, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "That was a good story, Uncle Wade," she murmurs sleepily.

Wade leans down and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sweet dreams, munchkin. Don't let the bed bugs bite - or the sentient broccoli."

As Wade stands up, you move to Mara's bedside, tucking her in and giving her a goodnight kiss. "I love you, sweetheart," you whisper.

"Love you too, Mommy," Mara replies, her eyes already closed.

- - - - - - -

You and Wade quietly exit the room, gently closing the door behind you. The sudden silence in the hallway feels heavy with unspoken words. You both linger for a moment, unsure of what to say or do next.

Wade breaks the silence first, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "She's really something special, isn't she?"

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "She is. I don't know what I'd do without her."

There's a pause, and then Wade says, "Or without you. You're an amazing mom, you know that?"

His words catch you off guard, and you look up at him. In the dim light of the hallway, his eyes are warm and sincere. You feel a flutter in your chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else you're not quite ready to name.

"I couldn't do it without your help," you admit, your voice soft. "You've been... incredible, Wade. With Mara, with everything."

Wade's expression softens, a hint of vulnerability showing through his usual jovial demeanor. "Hey, that's what family's for, right?" he says, gently nudging your shoulder with his. "Even if we're a bit of an unconventional one."

You both chuckle quietly, mindful of Mara sleeping nearby. As the laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. You find yourself studying Wade's face, noticing the tiny laugh lines around his eyes, the way his lips curl up slightly even when he's not smiling.

"Listen," Wade begins, his tone more serious than usual. "I know things haven't been easy for you, with Logan and everything. And I don't want to complicate things or make you feel pressured in any way. But I just want you to know that I'm here. For you, for Mara, for whatever you need."

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your heart races as you process what he's saying - and what he's not saying.

"Wade, I..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. How do you express the tangle of emotions you're feeling? The gratitude, the affection, the fear of letting someone in again.

Wade takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "You don't have to say anything," he says softly. "I just wanted you to know. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, I'm not going anywhere."

As you look up into Wade's eyes, you can see the sincerity and the hunger there. Without thinking, you lean forward, and your lips meet his for the first time. They're soft, warm, and inviting. A spark ignites between you, unfamiliar but thrilling. Wade's hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your jawline gently.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and husky. His breath tickles your lips, sending shivers down your spine.

- - - - - - -

Without breaking the kiss, you both make your way towards the living room couch, your lips locked in a heated kiss. The soft fabric of the couch cushions your bodies as you collapse onto it, your hands roaming over each other's bodies with increasing urgency.

Wade's hand travels up your shirt, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your waist. He groans as he feels the smoothness of your skin, whispers hotly in your ear, "Fuck, you're so soft... Logan doesn't know what he's missing out on."

You smile against his lips, feeling a thrill at the mention of Logan's name. Wade's rough hands feel even better against your skin now, as if you're sharing a deliciously dirty secret. You tug at the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head to reveal his muscular chest. The sight of his defined abs and pecs makes you feel weak in the knees.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your neck, and you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. "You taste so fucking good," he growls, his teeth grazing your skin.

You moan softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips. You can feel his heart pounding against your palm.

Wade's hand travels up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, and you squirm beneath his touch.

He groans as he feels how wet you are. "Fuck, you're so ready for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "I need you, Wade," you whisper, your voice shaky with desire.

He doesn't need any further encouragement. He tugs at the hem of your panties, sliding them down your thighs to reveal your wet and swollen folds. He takes a moment to admire the sight before lowering his head to lavish attention on your clit.

You cry out as his warm tongue circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He groans as he tastes your sweetness, his tongue darting in and out of your folds.

Meanwhile, your hand travels down his body, finding the hard length of his cock straining against his boxers. You stroke him gently, feeling him throb beneath your touch.

Wade groans as you touch him, his hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel him growing even harder in your hand.

He slides his boxers down his hips, revealing his thick and throbbing cock. You can't help but stare at it, mesmerized by its size and power.

Wade smirks as he sees the look of desire in your eyes. "Like what you see?" he asks, his voice teasing.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "It's so big," you whisper, your voice full of awe.

Wade chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. "And it's all yours," he murmurs.

He positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You moan as you feel it slide against your wet folds.

"Please, Wade," you beg, your voice needy and desperate.

He doesn't make you wait any longer. He slowly slides inside you, filling you up completely. You gasp at the sensation of being stretched and filled, your walls clenching around him.

Wade groans as he feels your tightness, his hips bucking involuntarily. He starts to move, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes.

You moan as the pleasure builds, your nails digging into his back. Wade leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he moves inside you.

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs it gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You do as he says, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Your body shakes and trembles as you cry out quietly, your nails digging deeper into his back.

Wade soon follows, pulling out quickly as his orgasm shudders through him. He came onto your stomach.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "That was amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with wonder.

You nod, smiling up at him. "Yeah, it was," you agree.

As the evening light fades, you and Wade reluctantly rise from the plush couch, but let's be real—who can resist that level of comfort? You both find yourselves sinking back into those soft cushions like two marshmallows in hot chocolate. Wade grabs the throw blanket that’s been carelessly flung over the armrest like it was a battle flag and drapes it over you, creating a cozy fortress of solitude as you snuggle in.

- - - - - - -

The following morning, you wake up abruptly as a soft tickle dances across your nose. The bright light shining down on you reveals Mara's adorable face, radiating sunshine and mischief. You can't help but smile back at her. With delicate fingers, she nudges Wade's hand, which is resting comfortably on your hip, startling him awake with wide eyes. "Thor! I thought we were battling frost giants!" he exclaims before realizing the situation. You roll your eyes and laugh.

Your bodies are feeling the effects of last night's activities - as if you just survived a zombie apocalypse, but in a much more enjoyable way. Just then, Mara interrupts your thoughts with an insistent voice, "Hungry, mommy!" She toddles over, clutching onto Mr. Unicorn for dear life, her wild hair tousled in the cutest way possible. She's like a miniature whirlwind of adorableness.

You stretch out your limbs like a cat, each muscle protesting slightly before swinging your legs over the side of the couch.

"Alright, sweetie, let's get some breakfast," you say, scooping Mara up into your arms. She giggles as you plant a kiss on her cheek.

Wade sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. "I vote for pancakes. Again. Is it possible to overdose on pancakes? Asking for a friend."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I think we've had enough pancakes for a while. How about some eggs and toast?"

"Eggs!" Mara cheers, bouncing in your arms. "Can I help crack them?"

"Sure thing, munchkin," Wade says, standing up and stretching. "Just try not to recreate the Great Egg Disaster of last Tuesday, okay?"

As you head to the kitchen, Mara chattering excitedly about her plans to become a world-famous egg cracker, you can't help but steal glances at Wade. He catches your eye and gives you a warm smile that makes your heart flutter. There's an unspoken understanding between you now, a shift in your relationship that both excites and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

In the kitchen, you set Mara on a stool at the counter while Wade retrieves the eggs from the fridge. As you gather the other ingredients, you feel Wade's hand brush against your lower back as he passes behind you. The touch, though brief, sends a shiver through you.

"Alright, Chef Mara," Wade announces, setting a bowl in front of her. "Show us your egg-cracking skills!"

Mara's face scrunches up in concentration as she carefully taps an egg against the side of the bowl. To everyone's surprise, she manages to crack it perfectly, the yolk sliding into the bowl without a single shell.

"I did it!" Mara exclaims, her face lighting up with pride.

"Way to go, kiddo!" Wade cheers, giving her a high five. "You're a natural!"

You can't help but beam at your daughter's accomplishment. "That was perfect, sweetie," you say, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

As you whisk the eggs, Wade starts on the toast, humming a tune under his breath. The domesticity of the moment strikes you - the three of you working together to make breakfast, moving around each other with easy familiarity. It feels right in a way you hadn't expected.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Wade asks, popping bread into the toaster.

"Well, I have the day off," you reply, pouring the whisked eggs into a heated pan. "I was thinking...we could take Mara to the park. She's been begging to try out the new playground equipment they installed last week."

"Yay, park!" Mara cheers, clapping her hands excitedly.

Wade grins, his eyes lighting up. "Sounds like a plan. I'll pack us a picnic lunch. Maybe we can finally teach Mara the art of proper frisbee throwing without accidentally beaning any unsuspecting joggers this time."

You chuckle, remembering the last park incident. "Let's hope so. Mrs. Johnson from apartment 3B still gives me the stink eye in the elevator."

As you finish cooking the eggs, Wade assists by spreading butter on the toast and helping Mara set the table. Suddenly, Grandma Al emerges from her bedroom with her white cane in hand. "Did someone think of making breakfast for me as well?" The four of you settle down at the table and engage in lively conversation while enjoying your meal and sipping on coffee (or, in Mara's case, apple juice)

As you watch Wade help Mara wipe egg from her chin, you feel a surge of affection. This man, who had started as just a friend, had become so much more - to both you and Mara. The realization both thrills and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

After breakfast, you help Mara get dressed for the park while Wade packs the picnic lunch. As you brush Mara's hair, she looks up at you with her big blue eyes - Logan's eyes - and asks, "Mommy, are we going to live with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al forever?"

The question catches you off guard, and you pause, the brush hovering mid-stroke. "Well, sweetie," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "Since it is their home, it depends. But for now, yes, we're staying here. Do you like living with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al?"

Mara nods enthusiastically. "I love it! Uncle Wade is so funny, and Grandma Al tells the best stories. But..." she hesitates, her little brow furrowing.

"But what, sweetie?" you prompt gently, resuming brushing her hair.

"But sometimes I wonder about my daddy," Mara says quietly. "The other kids at daycare talk about their daddies. Where's mine?"

Your heart clenches at her words. You've been dreading this conversation, knowing it would come eventually but hoping you'd have more time to prepare.

"Your daddy..." you begin, trying to keep your voice steady. "Your daddy had to go away for a while. But he loves you very much, even though he can't be here with us right now."

Mara looks up at you, her eyes wide and questioning. "Will he ever come back?"

You take a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. "I don't know, sweetie. Sometimes... sometimes daddies can't come back, even if they want to. But you know what? You have so many people who love you. You have me, and Uncle Wade, and Grandma Al. We're your family, and we'll always be here for you."

Mara nods slowly, seeming to process this information. "Okay," she says finally. "But can we still talk about him sometimes? I want to know what he was like."

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

"Sure thing," you say, relief washing over you that the conversation has ended for now. "Let's go see if Uncle Wade is ready with that picnic basket."

As you and Mara emerge from the bedroom, you find Wade in the living room, struggling to close an overstuffed picnic basket. He looks up as you enter, a sheepish grin on his face.

"I may have gone a little overboard," he admits, finally managing to snap the basket shut. "But hey, you never know when we might be ambushed by a family of hungry bears, right?"

With a chuckle, you help Wade with the picnic basket, while Mara runs off to fetch her favorite frisbee. As you all leave the house, the sun is shining brightly, and there's a sense of anticipation in the air. The laughter and chatter on the way to the park is a welcome distraction from your earlier conversation.

Arriving at the park, you release Mara's hand and she dashes towards the playground, her laughter echoing in the air. Wade follows her, a playful grin on his face. You and Althea find a nice spot under a tree, laying out the picnic blanket and opening the overflowing basket. The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow on everything around you.

The park was alive with activity, and Mara couldn't contain her excitement as she ran from one attraction to the next. Wade was the perfect uncle, chasing after her and making sure she had the time of her life. Althea, on the other hand, was content feeding the ducks with leftover toast from breakfast. As you watch them, a warm feeling spreads through your chest.

- - - - - - -

As the day turns into evening, the exhaustion starts to catch up with everyone. Wade scoops up Mara onto his shoulders, her face lighting up as she takes another lick of her melting ice cream cone. Althea holds onto your arm as you all make your way back to the apartment.

The cool breeze brushes against your skin, providing a welcome refreshment. The sun slowly sinks in the sky as you make your way inside. You guide Althea to her room for some much-needed rest while Mara eagerly anticipates her nightly bath and bedtime routine. With everyone settled for the night, it's just you and Wade in the bathroom.

As the steam fills the room, Wade's fingers trace along the curves of your body, leaving a trail of warmth behind them. He backs you up against the sink counter, and you can feel his hard cock pressing into your hip. His mouth crashes into yours, and your tongues dance in a desperate, passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as his fingers trail up your thigh, teasing the edge of your panties.

Wade's hands slide up your body, gripping your hips as he drops to his knees. His breath hot on your skin as he hooks his fingers into your panties, tugging them down. He takes a moment to admire your wet, swollen pussy before diving in, his tongue lapping up your juices. You grip the counter for support as his tongue circles your clit, his hands gripping your ass to pull you closer.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so good," Wade growls, his voice low and husky. He sucks on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You cry out, your hips bucking against his face as he adds a finger, sliding it into your slick folds. He curls it upwards, hitting your g-spot with each stroke.

Your orgasm crashes over you unexpectedly, and you cling to him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Wade pulls back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he tugs off his boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing cock.

He lifts you up onto the counter, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he lines himself up with your entrance. He teases the head of his cock against your clit, making you writhe with need before plunging into you in one swift motion.

The feeling of him inside you is almost too much to bear, and you grip his shoulders as he thrusts into you, his movements strong and steady. Your moans fill the steamy bathroom as he takes you harder and faster, his fingers digging into your hips.

"You like that, baby?" he asks, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck yes," you gasp, your nails leaving marks on his skin. He chuckles and leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. Wade's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deep inside you, each stroke hitting that sweet spot that sends shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he growls, his voice low and rough with desire. He pulls out of you, his cock still throbbing and slick with your juices. His hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it a few times as he leans in to press a hard kiss to your lips.

With a final groan, he pulls back and you watch in fascination as ropes of cum erupt from his cock, landing in hot streaks on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of it against your skin, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"Fuck, that was intense," Wade pants, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He leans in to trail kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, his hands roaming over your body.

"Mmm, yes it was," you moan, your own desire still pulsing through you. You reach down to run your fingers through the sticky mess on your stomach, then bring them to your lips, tasting the salty tang of his cum.

Wade groans at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. "You're so fucking sexy," he growls, his hands sliding down to cup your ass and pull you closer. You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and it makes you ache for more.

The two of you continue to kiss passionately as he lifts you up from the counter. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist, while your arms drape over his neck as he carries you into the shower. The warm water washes away any thoughts of Logan, leaving behind only lingering sensations from a night of intense passion and pleasure. Your body still tingles with delight under the cascade of water, and you can't help but smile at the memory of Wade's skilled fingers playing your body like a finely-tuned instrument.

- - - - - - -

glossary: n/a

[melodic-haze]

Jinhsi is glowing in the game..i for real thought it was a bug or something and then i open twitter and people be saying the same things..how can she looks so goddamn beautiful..Like she can go from all softie to a literal badass woman..i want her so bad.

Imagine we as her lover omg i can't. Jinhsi is a type of lover who caress your face in the morning and put our safety first GAHGH WANT HER SO BAD

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Jinhsi x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: None :3

☆ — NOTES: I AM SO SORRY??? THIS WAS FROM FUCKING MAY OH MY GOD. I have another ask after that'll tie into this (more specifically, NSFW hcs for her 😊) saur yeah. Anyway GUYS LOOK A SFW DEMO....WOW I swear I'm multifaceted

☆ — PARTS: Part 1 (you are here), Part 2

She is like. Green flags all over idc idc I NEED HER man she's so sweet my baby 😩😩😩 I need her dawg just having this woman as your lover must be like. So nice as long as you accept that she's working with an extremely busy schedule

Even then though I DO think she'd make time for you. She's a very balanced girlie who's learnt how to balance between working and resting, preferrably with you :3

She makes a point to always ALWAYS wake up next to you. I'd say that she's an early riser as well so she probably just lays there on her side, brushing her hand on your face and your body as she waits for you to wake up. Could she just get up and carry on with work? Yes, and perhaps you've even offered that she could bc you KNOW being a magistrate means you're never NOT busy.. but she's always declined, saying that the first thing she wants to see in the morning isn't work but rather the joy on people's faces as a result of her hard work with keeping the peace.......and that is especially the case with seeing you alive and satisfied in her embrace 🥰🥰🥰🥰

The first thing you feel when you wake is a soft kiss on your bare shoulder, the contact warm and tender yet brief.. but then it comes back as quick as it went and you can't help but sigh in contentment as your eyes fluttered open.

The first thing you see is not Jinzhou's magistrate but rather a woman of pure elegance, her seemingly luminescent white hair flowing freely and expectedly unkept after a lovely night (and you could never tell if it was due to her connection with Jué or if it were a natural reflection of the light). Though to you, she was still nothing short of perfect, with the way the morning light had bathed her pale skin with such an ethereal glow.

"Good morning, dearest."

The first thing you hear is the sound of her soft voice, a groggy rasp to its undertone as a result of a good night's sleep with you.

"Mmm.. morning."

That was the only form of verbal exchange the two of you had for a while as you both laid on the bed without any intention of hastily diving back into the real world. You simply turned around to snuggle closer to your gentle lover, your limbs tangled together before you leaned in at the same time.

There it was, the first thing you taste and the first thing you smell being her, all five senses filled with nothing but her. And considering how busy her life is, you wouldn't have your mornings any other way.

You don't actually know how long you've spent there in silence, cradling each other and exchanging tender kisses without a need for words. You don't really care, and neither does your beloved girlfriend despite the responsibilities she has. But of course, you know better than to question her.

You could have stayed there until the end of time but alas, duty does call.. and so do your stomachs for a good meal.

The both of you sit up at the same time, as if attuned to each other, and give each other one more peck before parting.

"I can make something for breakfast," you offered, "though if you need to leave now, then that's fine too."

Jinhsi shook her head, "I have a counter-offer; let me do the cooking this time."

"You sure? You know you don't have to do that."

"Shh," she places a finger on your lips for a moment before dropping her hand, "I want to. You deserve to be treated every once in a while, so let me?"

"..You always convince me, even though it feels like you're wasting your time for me."

"I wouldn't, as you say, 'waste my time' in doing so if I didn't love you."

WIFE MATERIAL WIFE MATERIAL WIFE MATERIAL I LOVE YOU JINHSI

Throughout your day to day basis I feel like she likes to keep tabs on you to make sure you're okay. She isn't oppressive with it, doesn't have anyone directly guarding you and looming over you or stalking you at every direction, bc she knows you can handle yourself and function independently and she doesn't want you thinking she doesn't trust you!!! But she often asks people if they've seen you around and how you're faring. I think at some point, people end up doing it on their own bc they can tell (with much amusement, ESPECIALLY for Changli) how much she cares about you. Even Sanhua makes it a point to report to her if she sees you somewhere HAHAHA

Speaking of Sanhua, considering how you two are tied together then she's also technically your bodyguard by proxy 🫶 so expect to see her a lot. She'd have a soft spot for you as well, starting off bc you make Jinhsi happy but then over timr you'd probably bond anyway (and Jinhsi's cheery ab having her two precious people get along :3)

She also sends you gifts if she can't see you for the day or a certain period of time. A random courier delivers it to you personally with a knowing smile on their face and you're usually surprised with how it's either something you've wanted for a while now, something you thought about today as you passed by a certain store, or just something that she says in a note reminded her of you 🫠🫠🫠UGH I'M SO LONELY

Ofc being in a relationship with Jinzhou's magistrate also means suffering the downsides aka being basically the prime target for anything that may source as a way to get to Jinhsi with more.. hostile means. Doesn't necessarily happen much bc she takes safety SERIOUSLY but ofc it does happen. Not to mention in general as well, with all the tacet fields popping up left and right

She wants to be able to protect you 24/7 but she does know constant protection would suffocate anyone, with the way she's able to essentially assign the fiercest most intimidating people to basically surround you. But she does try, if not by having others to do so then by herself

Watching Jinhsi fight felt like nothing short of an ongoing art piece painted onto a canvas.

She was unfazed, unbothered and ever so graceful—her sword cuts through the Tacet Discords so cleanly as she executed each one without so much as breaking a sweat. Despite the chaotic conflict, however, it felt as if she were simply dancing through each Discord with their shrieks and screams as her very own orchestrated accompaniment.

..What a morbid thought, though your lover still seems to make it seem like a beautiful visage anyway.

The two of you had only wanted to venture beyond Jinzhou's city walls for a nice picnic, but of course the risk of encountering random dangers had caught up to you, hence the situation.

You knew you wouldn't have to wait for long though—and you say that with such jarring nonchalance because a situation like this is more than some random nuisance, except you have the Sentinel's blessed willingly protecting you—because Jinshi's making short work on the Discords like they're nothing. As expected, of course, though there was that valid twinge of fear mixing within your excitement and awe at her power and her fighting prowess.

A blink, and the final Discord falls to her sword, the metal of her blade echoing out a metallic, reasonating sound that announces the battle's finality. And with it, the Echoes of the last Discord she had felled is stood there, sparkling a glittering gold.

She looks back at you with a concentrated glare, the horns on her head and the aura surrounding her signifying the final fragments of her silent aggression, before she blinks out of her state and reverts back to the seemingly docile woman that you spend your days with.

The white-haired woman licked her lips before speaking, her gaze darting from you to the still Echo, "A see-through visage of you would make for a nice anniversary gift, no?"

You snorted, walking over to her now that the field's been cleared, "Are you implying that you'll kill me so that I end up like the Echo there?"

"Goodness, no! The Echo's presence simply sparked an idea within me." She laughs despite the fight she had just gone through, and the sound couldn't be more musical to your ears, "I simply want to immortalise your memory, perhaps with my presence as a cameo?"

"Even though you're arguably the more important public figure out of the two of us? Why not just have us together, on equal standing?"

"..Why, that possibility had slipped my mind. Perhaps I'm not thinking straight."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"You must be winded, then... How about we find a spot to sit for our picnic, and then you can rest all you like? I did promise Sanhua that I'll have you back relaxed, unhurt and in one piece."

She raised an eyebrow mirthfully, "I still think she should have been more worried about you. I can take care of myself, as you've seen."

"Yeah, well-- ..wait, do you think she'd chew me out for having you fight for me?"

Jinhsi simply gives you a cheeky grin as she walks off, the playful expression a rare view on the Magistrate.. but extremely beautiful nonetheless. And you are left to chase after her, the both of you giggling as you stride through the now-peaceful plains.

And the whole thing has you thinking, that perhaps there is a more.. convenient way of immortalising your bond together, without a need for artificial Echoes or transparent tributes.

All you'd need is a ring.

And maybe better accompaniment instead of the screams of her enemies.

Idk how I ended up with a proposal teaser I'm ngl tk you what the fuck LMAOOO this is what happens when I don't plan anything. Contrary to popular belief I think marriage is a scam but this isn't about me 🫶

Dating Jinshi's obvs not gonna be sunshine and flowers with the risk and how busy she is bc she's leading an entire region, but surprisingly it's pretty close :3

[callsigns-haze]

Ace of the aces

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Eris wakes up alone, realizing Y/N has taken their son, Finna, out for the morning. As he starts a fire and picks up a book, he drifts back to sleep. He wakes to Y/N and Finna returning home with a new hunting hound puppy, bringing back memories of his own twelve hounds from childhood. Warning: Mild language, Brief mention of past trauma. Emotional reflections, MOSTLY PURE FLUFF

*Serves as a one-shot but can be read as memories fade or the sequel loves haze series

Eris loved his little family more than anything, but ever since Finna was born, sleep had become a rare luxury. He shivered awake as the cool November sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. As he turned over in bed, he noticed the empty space beside him. Y/N wasn't there.

He sighed, pushing himself up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The bed was cold where she had slept, indicating she had been up for a while. Eris stretched, feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion in his muscles. He listened for any sounds that might indicate where Y/N and Finna were, but the house was unusually silent.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Eris stood up and made his way to the nursery. The room was bathed in the soft morning light, and the gentle colours of the walls seemed to soothe his tired mind. He walked over to Finna’s crib, expecting to see his son sleeping peacefully. But the crib was empty.

A jolt of worry shot through him, and he quickly scanned the room. There were no signs of Y/N or Finna. Eris’s heart began to race as he hurried down the hall, checking each room along the way. Finally, he headed to the kitchen, hoping to find some clue as to where they had gone.

On the kitchen table, he spotted a note in Y/N’s handwriting. Relief washed over him as he picked it up and read:

Good morning, my flame. I took Finna out for a walk to let you sleep in. We’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about us. Enjoy your morning off. Love, Y/N and your buddy.

Eris let out a long breath, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. He smiled to himself, grateful for Y/N’s thoughtfulness. She always seemed to know what he needed, even before he did. Folding the note, he placed it back on the table and went to make himself a cup of coffee.

As the rich aroma filled the kitchen, Eris leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee and thinking about how lucky he was. Y/N had given him the gift of a quiet morning, a rare opportunity to rest and recharge. He took another sip, savouring the moment of peace, and decided to take her advice.

Deciding to make the most of his quiet morning, Eris moved to spark a fire in the living room. He pulled on a thick robe and slippers before stepping outside to gather some firewood. The chill of the November air hit him instantly, making him shiver as he quickly collected a few logs and hurried back inside.

Once back in the warmth of the house, he set to work stacking the wood in the fireplace. With practiced ease, he arranged the logs and kindling, clicking his fingers and coaxing the flames to life. The fire crackled and roared to life, filling the room with a comforting warmth and the familiar scent of burning wood.

Satisfied with the fire, Eris grabbed the book he had been reading from the coffee table. He settled into his favourite armchair by the hearth, the flames casting a flickering glow across the pages. As he opened the book, the quiet of the house enveloped him, creating a perfect cocoon of tranquillity.

He lost himself in the story, the words transporting him to another world. Every now and then, he would glance up at the fire, the dancing flames mesmerizing him. The warmth seeped into his bones, and he felt the tension of sleepless nights slowly ebb away.

The book was a comforting escape, a beloved novel he had read countless times before. Each turn of the page brought a familiar sense of joy, and Eris found himself smiling as he immersed himself in the tale. Time seemed to slow down, the peaceful morning stretching out before him.

Eris couldn't remember the last time he had a moment like this to himself. Between the demands of leadership and the joys of fatherhood, these quiet moments were few and far between. He cherished the solitude, knowing it wouldn't last long but appreciating every second of it.

He read for a while, the fire crackling in the background, the house still and serene. His thoughts occasionally drifted to Y/N and Finna, wondering what they were up to and when they would return. But for now, he was content to simply enjoy the peace and quiet, the book in his hands, and the warmth of the fire beside him.

As Eris lightly drifted to sleep, the warmth of the fire and the cozy chair lulling him into a peaceful doze, he was abruptly awakened by the sound of the front door opening. He heard Y/N's giggling, followed by a delicate bark that made him sit up straight, his heart pounding in confusion.

They didn't own a dog.

Curiosity and a hint of anxiety propelled him out of his chair and toward the corridor. He moved quickly but quietly, not sure what to expect. As he turned the corner, his eyes widened in surprise and a mix of emotions.

There, standing in the entryway, was Y/N, her face lit up with joy as she held Finna in her arms. And beside her, wagging its tail energetically, was a hunting hound puppy. The puppy had the same sleek, powerful build and intelligent eyes as the hounds from the Autumn Court that Eris had grown up with.

Y/N looked up and saw Eris, her smile widening. "Surprise!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "I thought you could use a little company and a reminder of home."

Eris was momentarily speechless, his gaze shifting from Y/N to the puppy. The hound looked up at him with curious, bright eyes, and Eris felt a rush of nostalgia and unexpected emotion. It was as if a piece of his past had suddenly come to life in his present.

"Where did you find him?" Eris finally managed to ask, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N laughed softly. "We found him at a breeder at the market. I couldn't resist. And Finna seemed to love him at first sight."

As if on cue, Finna reached out a chubby hand to the puppy's head, giggling in delight as the hound licked his fingers. Eris felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the scene, the happiness of his family mingling with the poignant memories of his past.

Eris knelt down, reaching out to pet the puppy. The hound responded with a happy bark and a wag of its tail, nuzzling against Eris's hand. It felt like a bridge between his old life and the new one he was building with Y/N and Finna.

"Thank you," Eris said softly, looking up at Y/N with gratitude. "This means more to me than you know."

Y/N's eyes softened, and she leaned in to kiss him gently. "I know," she whispered. "I thought it might."

Eris gathered them all into a hug, his heart swelling with love and appreciation. The puppy barked again, as if to join in the family embrace, and Eris couldn't help but laugh.

"Welcome to the family, little one," he said to the hound, his voice filled with warmth. "You're going to love it here."

Eris watched as Finna continued to bond with the new puppy, his tiny hands grabbing at the hound’s fur while the pup wagged its tail excitedly. The sight tugged at Eris’s heart, bringing a flood of memories from his own childhood, surrounded by the twelve loyal hounds that had been his constant companions.

"I think I'll name him Ace," Eris said softly, a smile forming on his lips. "It's a strong name. Suits him, don’t you think?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling with stars of understanding. "Ace it is."

Eris knelt down beside Finna, gently stroking Ace’s fur. The puppy responded by licking Finna’s cheek, eliciting a burst of giggles from the baby. Eris’s smile widened, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.

As he watched Finna play with Ace, Eris’s mind drifted back to his early years in the Autumn Court. The memory of his twelve hounds was vivid—how they had been his guardians, his friends, his solace in the turbulent court life. Those hounds had understood him in ways no one else could, offering unconditional loyalty and love.

Eris felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with gratitude. He had vowed to create a better life for his own family, free from the shadows of his past. Seeing Finna bond with Ace, he knew he was on the right path. This little hound, named Ace, symbolized not just a new beginning, but a bridge to the cherished memories that had shaped him.

Looking at Finna’s happy face and Ace’s playful antics, Eris felt a surge of determination. He would protect this family with all his strength, ensuring they never experienced the pain he had endured. With Y/N by his side and their children growing up in a loving home, he knew they could overcome any obstacle.

Eris stood up, lifting Finna into his arms and cuddling him close. "Ace is going to be your best friend," he murmured to his son. "Just like my hounds were to me."

Y/N wrapped an arm around Eris, leaning her head on his shoulder. "We’re building something beautiful here, Eris. Our own little piece of heaven."

Eris nodded, his heart swelling with love for his family. "Yes, we are. And I’m going to make sure it stays that way." As the sun continued to rise, casting a warm glow over their cabin, Eris felt a renewed sense of purpose.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

@swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

@minaethrym

[k3m1y4]

“nothing in the world belongs to me.”

fyodor x gn!reader

summary: just a calm night with ease, nothing else belongs to you but for your love for yourself, and him, he was you. before you could die, let him be the heat that warms the cold. nothing in the world belongs to him, nothing. belongs to you.

author’s note: fluff and angst?, not proofread, no warnings. here’s a little fic before i go to sleep early because i need to fix my messed up sleep schedule <3 love u pookies, have a great morning/night/day.

. . . ecard: my love all mine . . . by mitski.

The breeze was indeed cold.

Your weakened body walked through the thickened snow. Your feet barely even moving by a single step, your tracks tainted the snow deep into the ground. Waiting for it to melt and disappear in a fragrance of a snowflake landing gracefully on the chill land. You hum quietly as you continued to forward yourself into finding your beloved, you hold him so dear. The dark shade of the leaves painted by the snow falling from the sky, what a keen eye could see from the mesmerizing scenery. The moon kept it’s guidance into leading you through the snowed forest. Light coloring your skin to a brighter tone as you pause in your pace. You flutter your eyes closed as you sigh, puffs of air blowing throughout the wind, carrying the last and first time of your breath.

You hum an unfamiliar tone; you were clueless must to know of what you sing. You’ll never hear the heavenly melody of the birds chant and echo during the spring. When the flowers will now bloom, welcoming it’s beauty it hides within the cold to keep a surprise of amusement. You knew you’d meet him here, back to where you met. The last will be the better of the first. Clasping on the trunk of the tall tree tightly as you lean against the wood. Breathing heavily as the warmth of your presence was no longer protecting you from the cold, it gave in to give up. You watch the snow continue to fly as the wind pushes it away from your gaze. You chuckle silently to yourself, wherein deaf ears could hear.

“Fedya…”

You impatiently fix your composure as you wait for the man awaiting you for your final remorse. “Fedya…” You say out again, you felt numb and weak. Though, there was no chains pulling you back to the darkness you merely seek at the chances life was already tearing you to shreds, unperfected and flawed. Just like any other fool lighting the world with its’ unmarked glow. You sigh in faux disappointment as you fold your arms, your vision started to blur in a trance as you blink twice to keep up with your fatigue. “Fyodor!” You weakly yell as you step on the chill as it sent a chill down to your spine. You hug yourself tightly as you shake your head, waving the pain away from you.

You knelt down, your clothed knees meeting the veins of the unsettling, cold atmosphere. The wind brushing your hair as it flew the flakes away from your flesh. You start to shape the piece of snow into a large rounded ball. Placing it forcefully on the ground, you make another, another. Repeatedly. The size decreasingly shrunken to your desired measurement. You stand up, inspecting the area surrounding you in barriers. You look down at your coat as you avert your eyes to a leaf slopingly resting on the coldness. You carefully put it on the rounded ball at the very top of the structure as you giggle in joy. Whether then it be your last snowman, you had the bit of joy from the heat of a candle so small and easily melted.

“Myshka.” Fyodor spoke deeply. You were back to him. You trace along the snowman’s head forming a curved smile on it’s face. Fyodor chuckles at your pointless yet adorable antics you’d always do during the winter season. Not like he was complaining. You gently decorated the snowman as you softly placed your headwear on your masterpiece as Fyodor watches you silently observing your actions as he sighs. “Моя любовь, ты можешь простудиться.” He reminds you at you just smile at him tilting your head as he rolls his eyes at you. “Stop being so stubborn for once, my love.” He walked towards you and poked your nose with his slender finger. “But Fedya! I’m going to die anytime soon. Let me have some fun…” You whine at him, but who was he to reject.

“Alright, alright, myshka. Just be careful, okay?” He runs his surprisingly warm hands against your silk hair. “Hmm? Fedya, your hands are unusually warm!” You exclaim at him as you test out how heated he was by hugging him tightly. Oh he was warm! He stumbled back slightly; his back gently hitting the wooden tree. You bury your face in his chest as he couldn’t help but just groan at your stupid acts. “Моя любовь...” He sighed, preventing his urge to just scold you he instead pulled you towards him. As you hug him, desperate and pleading for his affection.

He embraces you back in a form of acceptance as you “sleep” within his warmth. His eyes look down at you and gently caress your lifeless face, tilting your chin up, your eyes fluttered already closed. He smiles slightly as he lets your head lay on his shoulder as he leans his head back to relax in the slightest moments of these. You taught him how to love, when he couldn’t. You taught him to do the simplest forms of affection he could not show. You taught him how to love you. You gave him the lesson, nothing belongs to him, not you, not his treasure, nothing but only his, only love. Stroking your hair as his chest breathes, yours didn’t. Your heart slowed down quickly, he couldn’t feel your voice nor your life anymore carrying with him. And here he was. You were his teacher, and he was the student. Despite your intellect lower than his, you somehow managed to teach him things a normal human could simply display to those who they love. Love was weird to him, he hated the idea of affection, adoration, and admiration. He knew how to define its’ meaning, but never how.

He was grateful of you, when you unexpectedly barged into his life like the upcoming of his mistakes on the bumpy road all the way. He will die too, he will be with you. He is a bad person, you weren’t. You were the first to tie the string, you tied the strings. And you were the first one to cut it apart. You may disappear, but. You filled a hole in his heart; ripped many times. And you tainted him with your goodness.

“Sleep well, my love. I love you.”

He never received a letter written, I love you too.

—

GAAA. Not too angsty for me but idk idk. Tried to experiment here and it kinda failed. I’m sleep so i’m wayyyy tooooo lazy to read it. Kinda lazy for the plot. Thanks for reading tho 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[cocomintcat]

Heaven's Princess (Prologue)

Hazbin hotel x seraph!reader Platonic series

Part 1 || Masterlist

Songs of the chapter: Slipping through my fingers (Abba)

The fall, God lost one of his beloved children, his son, the morning star, Lucifer. He, alongside his other 7 children, mourned the loss. The siblings all cherished Lucifer dearly. He was one of the youngest. Years on earth were chaotic, God was angry and felt lost. Then, after he felt his duty to earth was done, he secluded himself only to ever talk to his children and seraphiel, his friend. 

After 50 years or so of Emily's birth, Seraphiel had an idea. God loved his children dearly. They always brought light to him. Unfortunately, now it is just being the 7 plus him taking lucifer's job. Their work kept them quite busy, leaving God on his own. Seraphiel debated if this idea would work or be worth it, but there was no harm in trying after all. 

He brought the idea to God. God showed no opposition, so the plan was set in motion. Seraphiel created a new baby seraph. Small she was. Pale skin with a purple blush, a cute heart nose, purple hair, and the most notable, lively purple eyes briming with life.

 Once God held her in his arms, he felt a familiar surge of love and warmth. Seraphial was glad his idea worked. He watch as God coo'd at the small girl. She giggled back at him flailing her tiny little arms.

That day she was named God's little princess, Eliora Sarai Starlight.

7 beings walked through the spacious and bright home. Upon entering the lounge room, they greeted their father.

“So what exactly did you call us all here for??” Azrael was the first to speak up.

“Well I wanted to introduce you to your little sister of course!!”

“Sister?!” Almost all of his children shouted out of pure shock, not expecting to ever add another to the family since the fall.

“YES! Well, I guess I should explain myself a bit…” God explained best he could of seraphiel's idea. He had given it a try, and it was more than worth it. Some of the siblings were a bit apprehensive about the idea. Some still missed their brother, who had fallen. They just hoped their sister wouldn't become just a replacement for him.

Seeing their mixed feelings, God took them to a very beautiful room. A soft yet elegant crib was in the center. The 7 siblings crowded around immediately to see the small princess. She awoke, sensing multiple new presences. Her big eyes gazed at each of the new faces before reaching out her arms to them. Leroy, the dominion angel, put a gloved hand out towards the little one who immediately grasped it before nuzzling it. Leroy smiled down at the little one, putting his hand on her cheek, gently stroking it.

“She's quite sweet isnt she?”

“Haha! She is.” God's smiled softly watching all the siblings interact. Cassius, the shortest of the siblings, immediately scooped up the small girl. Spinning with her in their arms the little girl squealed with excitement.

“She is absolutely adorable!! What did you name her?!”

“Eliora Sarai Starlight. She's heaven's little princess, so I thought the name would be fitting.”

“Thats so cute! Little Elly!” Cassius spoiled the little girl with kisses all over her face, which made her giggle and squirm.

“Ok let the rest of us have some time with our baby sister!” Azrael snatched her straight from Cassius, giving her a hug and nuzzling her with his face.

“What a little cutie! You got really lucky with this tiny angel!” The sibling each passed her around, giving the girl plenty of affection. Micheal was the last to hold his baby sister. Gently, he rocked her. She was tired out from each of his other siblings and their excessive affections. She snuggled in his arms, and he smiled softly at her tiny, sleepy form.

“She's so precious!” Cassius continued to coo over the adorable baby alongside Azrael and Leroy. The other watched fondly seeing the joy she resparked amongst the family. God felt a sweet familiarity at the scene. He was glad he could bring his family back together.

“Emy!!” A small seraph exclaimed, running into the arms of her friend. Eliora had grown significantly in the past 40 years. Though she was still small in stature, the princess had now aged to that of a 4 year old human child.

“Its good to see you too, lia!” The other seraph squeaked happily, squeezing her friend. Emily was 90 and a good foot taller than the tiny princess. Both had become good friends being close in age. After the princess was old enough to walk and talk, Seraphiel started bringing his youngest with him to visit God. The two girls got along extremely well, pleasing their fathers.

Eliora had also met some of Emily’s other sisters. They were all nice, Sera however was always very strict and bit too much for the princess. She lived with God, the Creator, and even he wasn't so strict with everything. Still, a good bond had formed between the young princess and the youngest seraphim daughter.

For a child, Eliora was very well behaved. She rarely got into any trouble, and most of the time, it was because she followed others when they got into trouble. She'd usually sit and watch others from her father's lap or side. If she was with her siblings, she'd maybe ask a question or two about what she had observed, but other than that, she was easily entertained by watching others. She was quite curious about things, but she wasn't so curious as to figure it out for herself.

“Daddy, whats the bible?”

“Why do you want to know little one?”

“I overheard some angels talking about it.”

“Its a book on Heaven and early Earth written by humans, you know the ones that some call winners. The angels that once lived on earth.”

“Oh? Can you tell me more about it?” Eliora now was 60. She knew a bit about heaven, earth, and winners but not a lot. Her family discussed what age each topic would be appropriate to explain to her. The fall she could learn once she reached 100 along with hell, but for now, just some of heaven and earth was allowed.

God proceeded to tell Eliora a bit about eden before Eve ate the fruit. He also left out Lilith. Mostly, he told her about all the animals, and here he learned her absolute adoration for all animals. He couldn't say he was all that surprised with her sweet, loving nature.

Eliora's 80th birthday was soon. She was currently out with Micheal to go on a cute lunch date. He loved treating her to these special outings. The place was a nice little restaurant owned by a sweet elderly winner who was fairly new. The restaurant dabbled in multiple styles of southern cuisines, as Micheal had told Eliora. The restaurant staff were all southern winners who agreed to join the sweet lady's team to bring a bit of old comfort to their new home. It was a popular lunch place among many new winners. Eliora and Micheal, being heaven born, asked the server for recommendations. They ended up with (your choice ;)) and some beignets for dessert.

“Wow didn't expect Mr. Head Angel Micheal to be out here having lunch with some kid. Fuck, your baby mama leave you huh? That must suck haha!” A man with a strange mask said. Eliora's nose scrunched at the way he talked to her brother.

“Adam i suggest you watch your language. As for the kid shes my little sister Eliora.”

Eliora politely waves at the man before going back to eating.

“Sister? I thought your familial editions ended after the fall?”

“She was given to us about 80 years ago.”

“damn so she really is a little squirt.”

Micheal was annoyed and managed to get Adam to say his goodbyes and leave.

“Elly two things. First don't listen or repeat any new words you hear from Adam. Second I'm sorry we got interrupted.”

Luckily, the rest of the lunch was peaceful and delightful. Eliora said she'd like to go to the restaurant again, Micheal decided to let his siblings know about it if they were to take her out to eat.

Soon Eliora’s 80th birthday passed. She had met Adam a few more times, mostly when she was out with Sera and Emily. Eventually, Adam was asked, Sera had an emergency to attend to, to watch both Emily and Eliora. He wasn't too happy but agreed. He decided to teach them electric guitar while they waited for Sera to return.

“So you hold it like this - yup, good job, squirt.” Adam started with teaching Emily. She struggled but had fun learning. Next, it was Eliora's turn. She had been watching in amazement. She left Adam speechless with how fast she picked up how to play. He decided to teach her a few more rock instruments, which she grasped the basics almost immediately.

‘yo Micheal wtf is your sister on. Sera is using me as an emergency babysitter and so I taught the 2 tinys some instrumental lessons and ur sister knows the basics to like 3 intruments’

‘what?’

‘yeah, bass, electric guitar and drums’

‘...’

Soon enough, Sera was back. Micheal had let his family know what Adam sent him and his theory. They decided to test it, and it was correct. Eliora’s heavenly gift was music related. She also told them how it also incorporated dance after they explained what heavenly gifts were. A celebration was held for the little princess. Adam was invited to which he gifted her some rock instruments, while her siblings gifted all sorts of traditional and modern instruments. Gabriel, however, gifted her dance shoes of all types. Emily was extremely excited and insisted the princess put on a performance for her birthday as a gift.

Over the next 60 years, Eliora practiced her heavenly gifts. She also became close to Adam, and he luckily learned to tone down his rude behavior around her. Anytime he took her around heaven, he'd put her on his shoulders or drape a wing over her like a brother resting an arm on their shorter siblings head.

Eliora had 40 years since learning about the Fall and Hell. She asked each sibling about their experience and about Lucifer. She tried to ask Adam but soon learned that it was a sore subject for him.

Eliora's relationship with God changed with the years, too. They're close, and hes a good father, but the realization of her growing up is starting to make him feel down. She tries her best to assure him that no matter how old she gets, she'll always be his little girl and stay in heaven by his side. Luckily, as long as she was around, his depression seemed to not be too bad. However, with age comes responsibility. She doesn't do any intense work or even a heavenly job, but rather, she observes others work in heaven. From each of her brothers to the seraphim. She didn't really know what she wanted to do, nor was there really a job that she was needed for aside from assisting to lighten others' workloads. Eliora also spent a good amount of time performing for others in heaven, dancing and singing to lift others' spirits or soothe new spirits. That's actually how Eliora made new friends. One went by the name Biatreh, but Eliora called her Bee.

More notes on god and 7 heavenly virtues, mostly based on the art by or for who i assume is @apieceofheaven 

I believe cassius is by mika_ji_ on X, they commissioned artists for their design so I can assume as they're the only person I found art of that exact cassius design!! (I love all the designs I hope yall like the ones I chose as reference since we don't know any of their cannon designs)

Also context seraphiel is head of seraphim family in this version, so sera and Emily are sisters (there so many versions of heaven and the names so I'm going with what ones suit this story best and I kinda like the idea of this)

Also name meaning "God is my light" "princess" and obviously starlight is English so you can assume why I chose that <3

[influenzalake]

'I've been behaving all night...' Damian Wayne x Reader 

MINORS DNI / SUGGESTIVE THEMES /       -VIEWER DISCRETION-

Damian and Y/N are in an established relationship, in their earlier stages (about 3 years). they go to the gala and Damian cannot help himself, fun times ensue 

fem reader, she her, about 700w

*no actual smut sorry :(

- - - 

Damian leads you to your seat after the millionth dance of the night. It was your first Gala, at first you were nervous but that has all dissipated into pure joy and love. You were dressed in the finest gown. A sleeveless sweetheart neckline that pushed your tits up juuust right. The gentlemen attendants have surely noticed... much to Damian's chagrin. Your hair and makeup professionally done. You were adorned with jewelry you got to personally pick. Your shoes were custom made to reduce the chances of pain the following morning. The marble floor reflected the golden light of the chandeliers above. You rubbed elbows with popular socialites and they had nothing but nice things to say about you. The older ladies thought you were the cutest thing. Your fresh face was the talk of the night. With your grin from ear to ear, you can hardly contain your laughter. It really was like a dream come true. 

You settle into the hand carved spruce wood chair, bringing your breathing and heart rate down. You were grateful for this fun night out. Damian didn't have to take you, as you still had your reservations. Dick said the Galas weren't that bad, Jason said they were insufferable, even Tim and Bruce always found excuses to leave. But now, with your hands in your lap, you wanted to take a moment to share your gratitude. 

You curl a hair behind your ear and face who you genuinely believe is the love of your life. You take his hand and start your speech. 

"That was amazing, I had so much fun. The live band really fills the air and all these lights..."

Damian is enthralled and happy you are enjoying it, but notices you're beginning to ramble. You still have that cute nervousness after all this time. 

"And these shoes, wow these shoes. Despite how they look I can actually move! And that means I can dance with you more! I mean, this is all so much and you're just the best and I'm so happy baby this is the best night ever-", now gesturing around to add to your story.

Damian loves to hear your voice, but it's getting a bit long winded for him. As you continue your chatter he gets an idea. 

He slowly leans into your shoulder and presses kisses up, leading up the shoulder, then a little bit to the collarbone.

"I never in all my years thought I would be in this mansion wi-t     I , With..."

Damian finds his way to the trapezius. Then that sly dog hides half his face behind you and starts tonguing that hot spot. Slow and sensual. In the middle of the gala. Completely nonchalant and normal.

You two are going to be news for the next month. 

You can't believe this naughty scoundrel! But then, your heart starts picking up again. You want to tell him that people are starting to stare, but your words are caught in your throat. You sit there in red faced silence as Damian has the time of his life in the crook of your neck.

After what feels like forever, Damian's hand finds yours. You think that he's finally come to his senses, but he keeps his head down, kissing your hand over and over. You dare to look and you seal your fate. Damian looks up at you from under his lashes, mouth still on your knuckles. 

Voice deeper than you're used to, he says, "I've been behaving all night beloved. May we leave now?"

You're absolutely caught off guard. Still dazed from the soft warm tongue on your skin, then those striking green eyes. That gravely voice was the end of you.

You want to stutter a response, but all that comes out is a gentle whine. You pray only Damian heard it...

Without releasing your first hand, Damian guides you up by your forearm and carefully leads you out of the Gala in all your weak kneed glory

Suffice to say it was a good night.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

For December do you think you could write decorating with genderfluid!Reader? If not that’s cool too and you have my thanks anyways!

logan howlett x genderfluid!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

as always with these, anyone can technically read it but it was written with a genderfluid reader in mind. there's really only one mention of reader being genderfluid since i wasn't sure how to add it into the fic in a way that felt natural.

decorating is one of your absolute favourite things to do. you suppose it makes sense given your love for fashion and aesthetics and art - you enjoy when things look beautiful. so for every season and holiday, big or small, you decorate.

the x-mansion is full of children who came from bad homes, or homes that were once wonderful but fell apart quickly when the parents found out their beloved child was a mutant, a freak of nature. you hope you can bring even a modicum of joy to these children’s lives through your over-enthusiasm for the holidays, making the environment fun for them, giving them enough good memories to hopefully outnumber the bad ones.

it leads to moments like these: half-full boxes of winter decor strewn around the room, the sound of overlapping laughter as everyone tries to find the perfect spot for the perfect addition to the room, music playing quietly in the background.

and logan, your logan, your favourite person, your very best friend, the love of your life. easily lifting kids high into the air so they can reach the ceiling, taping up paper lanterns in the shape of snowflakes that the taller patrons of the x-mansion will have to dodge for the rest of the winter season, ducking every time they walk through the room.

he used to refuse to do this with you, said it was too chaotic, too many people running around, too much noise for a temper like his. and yet this morning as you’d lazily gotten out of bed, he’d watched you with a question in his eyes, a hesitation that told you it wasn’t something bad, but certainly something you’d lord over him for a while.

you had exited the shower, felt his hands exploring your body as you tried to get dressed, sighing in exaggerated irritation every time he interrupted the process. he’d asked you his typical morning questions as he pressed kisses to your neck: how did you feel, what should he call you, how did you want him to refer to you today?

and then, “spit it out, logan.”

he’d admitted that he wanted to see what the fuss was about, why everyone was always so happy afterwards, reveling in the energy of the day even as the sky fell beneath the horizon.

it was strange for logan, a man so used to pain and suffering, hard after all this time for him to understand the simple joys of life, like celebrating holidays with people you loved. but he wanted to try being a part of something good. and besides, as much as he tried to hide it, you knew he had a soft spot for the children in the x-mansion, sneaking them treats and helping them get away with things, shrugging when asked if he’d seen anyone causing trouble.

he pretends to drop the kid he’s holding, a loud shrieking squeal piercing the air, giggles that sound like music to your ears following shortly after. he puts the kid down, who immediately runs off to his friends, leaving logan watching you, his eyes meeting yours from across the room.

“thought this was your thing,” logan mutters when he reaches your side, “looks to me like you’re letting everyone else do the work this time.”

you grimace at him in faux annoyance, but it’s impossible to keep up the facade, not when you’re looking at the winter decor, - a mix of hanukkah and christmas and kwanzaa and whatever else anyone wanted to add - disorganised and messy and absolutely perfect. it is, in your opinion, the closest thing to a physical representation of the word joy.

“you’re being distracting,” you reply, pressing a brief kiss to his lips, “but now that you’re here, you can help me! pick me up! i have a plan for these lights but i can’t reach where i want to put them!”

and he does, of course, because what are boyfriends for if not for indulging in your every whim?

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

[etherealhannie]

( oneshot ) ،، upon the ray ،، ⌇ 명호

pairing .ᐟ bf!minghao × gf!fem!reader genre .ᐟ fluff , established relationship word count .ᐟ 0.6k song rec. .ᐟ i know you know - chska

the morning sun began to creep through the thin, lace curtains of the cozy cottage, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. minghao awoke quietly, the warmth of the sunlight gently rousing him from his dreams. as he turned to his side, he found himself gazing at the serene figure of y/n, his beloved, sleeping peacefully beside him.

minghao felt his heart swell with tender affection as he watched her. the sun's rays delicately highlighted her features, creating a halo around her golden hair, which spilled over the pillow like silk. he marveled at the way each strand seemed to catch the light, shimmering with a gentle radiance.

her face, so calm and serene in sleep, held a beauty that never ceased to captivate him. he traced the delicate curve of her cheek with his eyes, noting the soft blush that always lingered there. her eyelashes, long and dark, rested gently against her skin, casting tiny shadows that danced in the morning light.

minghao’s gaze lingered on her lips, slightly parted and relaxed, inviting a memory of their sweet taste. he loved the way they would curl into a smile, lighting up her entire face, and he found himself yearning to see that smile again.

with a soft sigh, reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead, his touch feather-light so as not to disturb her slumber. his fingers lingered, caressing her skin, as he admired the perfection of her form. she was everything to him—his love, his muse, his reason for waking up each day with joy in his heart.

as he lay there, minghao reflected on the countless moments they had shared in this little cottage, their sanctuary. he remembered the laughter that filled the rooms, the quiet whispers of love exchanged late into the night, and the comforting embrace of her presence that made the world outside seem distant and unimportant.

in this moment, watching her sleep, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. he was thankful for every day they had together, for the love that bound them, and for the simple, profound beauty of mornings like this. he knew that no matter where life took them, as long as he had y/n by his side, he would always be home.

unable to resist any longer, minghao leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. y/n stirred slightly, a faint smile gracing her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. seeing him, her smile broadened, and she whispered his name, a soft murmur of love and contentment.

"good morning, tiánxīn," minghao whispered back, his voice filled with emotion. he wrapped her in his arms, holding her close as the sun continued to bathe them in its warm embrace.

“good morning too, haobao,” hearing the nickname he taught her just for fun now stuck as his nickname blooms thousands of flowers in his heart. she snuggled her face on his chest, seeking for his warmth even though the sun heats the room enough.

“did you sleep well?” minghao stroked her silky hair, giving her as much love as possible. hearing a breathy ‘hm’ from her already enough to answer his question. peeking on his chest and witnessing her gorgeous orbs looking at him, probably admiring him as well.

he can't help but to crack a small smile before leaning closer to her, pecking her tiny nose. as his lips travel down on hers, she holds him back.

“i haven't brushed my teeth, hao” she frowned. minghao lifts his right eyebrow, a bit puzzled by her statement that sounds more like an excuse.

“who cares?” he smooches her lips, before actually turning it into a love appreciation session. her fingers find their way to his hair, gliding through as a comfort. minghao placed his hand palm on y/n’s cheeks, stroking it as gently as he could.

in that perfect moment, they lay together, savoring the tranquility and the unspoken promise of a day filled with love and togetherness.

[aphroditelovesu]

yandere will solace x reader letter please thanks

My beloved,

On the soft wings of the morning breeze, my words fly in search of your heart, where my purest essence of love and gratitude resides. I write these words with a heart filled with a love that consumes my soul, a love so ardent that it finds no limits. With you, my life found a greater purpose, a purpose that comes down solely to protecting and loving you.

I feel like a faithful guardian, willing to face any challenge, to overcome all barriers just to be by your side. It's a visceral attraction, an undeniable love that consumes me, but also fills me with indescribable happiness. Every time I see you, I feel a spark of joy that illuminates my being. Your smiles are like rays of sunlight piercing the darkness, illuminating my world and filling it with warmth and hope.

In your eyes I find a reflection of the most beautiful sunset, a spectacle that captivates me and leaves me breathless. Your spirit shines like the golden rays of the sun, flooding my life with warmth and vitality.

My love for you is like the sunshine, intense and undeniable, and my devotion to you is deeper than the roots of an ancient tree. I promise to watch over you, protect you from any threat, even if it means facing the darkest shadows that may try to separate us.

Ah, my beloved, you are the ray of light that illuminates my dark world, you are the song that calms my restless soul. I will not allow anything or anyone to come between us, because our love is stronger than any obstacle.

Allow me to be your shield against the shadows, your support in moments of uncertainty and your eternal source of love and joy.I promise to honor you with the light of my being, warming every moment we share.

With eternal love,

Will Solace.