#now this is a character i'm comfortable writing for

[bluzebub19]

I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

[beingatoaster]

Re: how you skip a section and keep on writing: you determine enough about the skipped section's progression to know what the next point will be, and then start at that next point, without sorting out the exact details of that progression. E.g., for the aforementioned WIP, I have a written section where two characters wrap up a date they went on together and agree on the date for the next one, a scene break, a couple notes in the style of the OP about what scenes I want in the week in between, another scene break, and then I start back to writing in full narrative form about the second date.

...I was starting to describe it vaguely but hey, you will recognize the fandom, so:

As if setting that plan was a cue, Diluc starts to clean up the remains of the picnic, and Jean leans in to help him. He takes the two boxes the skewers had come in and carefully divides all the food out between them, handing one to Jean before tucking the other into his basket, and rises to offer Jean his hand. She lets him help her up. Together, comfortably discussing their tortoises, they head back to Mondstadt. *** [her evening with Barbara! maybe could lead to the 'keep Barbara from coming along' later on] [Kaeya is doing things to try and make the situation up to her, which Jean can tell he's doing and wants him to stop -- second Kaeya scene, with him taking work, moves here] *** On her next day off, Jean rises with a refreshing sense of anticipation. She picks through her civilian wardrobe for something practical for the trek down Drunkard's Gorge and wrangling tortoises. Even if it has to be practical clothing, though, it's nice to plan for this trip without automatically donning her uniform.

Now, those notes in the middle aren't clear here because I already know what tensions I'm pushing with these scenes (the main plot is Jean dating Diluc out of hanahaki-based obligation; Barbara is oblivious and happy for her, while Kaeya talked Jean into doing this but is now very guilty about it) and thus I don't need to describe them in more detail to myself. But I know what they are, I know what they're doing, and I don't need to know the exact wording of the dialogue or the exact actions taken in them right now to move on with the main-focus relationship, which is Jean and Diluc and the slow-motion train crash that is occurring between them.

And because said slow-motion train crash is the main driver of the plot, I can skip the side-character scenes for now because as long as I know what they're doing in the larger scheme of things (adding friction to the wheels such that individual cars on this train are beginning to tilt under the pressure), I can go back and fill in the exact details later. The Barbara scene needs to have her induce guilt in Jean about the lie. The Kaeya scene needs to emphasize that their relationship is under strain, leading later to Jean not being willing to trust him with a future plot development. I can write the guilt and the reluctance into later scenes knowing that in the second draft, they'll have a basis.

(I would bet every single example in OP's work is not a "I have no idea what goes here," it's a "I know that X needs to be here for Y reasons," but the note, like my notes, is just a placeholder in the text for that line/scene's actual story-function as they have it in their head.)

Also, a smaller within-scene example that works the same way:

"Thank you," Jean says again, less formally, a tightness in her throat. She hesitates there, not sure what else to say, what else she *can* say without further thinning the line she has to walk. Diluc solves the problem for her. "You'll have to handle the clean-up personally to be sure it's done right," he says, and that sounds irritable, this time, but at least his irritation isn't at her. "I'll do a final sweep for any stragglers. I expect managing other Knights' incompetence will take you the rest of the night." [some transition that DOESN'T include negging the Knights, that makes her think of the flower and/or how they're focused on the same goals] "Wait," Jean says, as he turns away.

I can figure out the exact dialogue I want to put there later--what matters is knowing what it does to move the story forward. Since I know what effect it will have, I was able to carry on with that scene and into the next one it effects without getting bogged down in the exact verbiage, which wasn't coming to mind at the moment.

So I guess the point is, you can leave blanks to fill in later as long as you know what those blanks do. Scenes/moments in a story are links in a chain, and you can always temporarily loop some baling twine in to connect lengths of a chain together until you have time to go to the store and buy a replacement, but that doesn't mean you aren't continuing the chain. I still think of myself as writing this story in order! It's just got a lot of baling twine in it right now because if I stop to go to the store while counting links, I will lose all forward momentum and won't continue on down the chain.

...Which is, to be clearer, why I'm suggesting trying this for motivation problems. The moment I hit friction when I'm writing a first draft, my motivation starts to die. On the other hand, once I have a finished first draft (by which I mean, still with these notes and unwritten bits scattered through, but with all the main scenes written and a solid ending), going back and writing those bits is not "friction" but "enrichment." Which may also prove true for you.

Or it may not! Your approach to writing is fine if it's working for you! Or if the reason it's not working for you is because something completely different is tripping you up and you need to troubleshoot from that direction. I'm just talking on and on about my approach because it's the only thing I know that works for me, and also I love navel-gazing. XD;; Hopefully you can find something that works for you!

me: yeah I'm pretty close to finishing this fic

the fic:

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 23/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@boonalina ha chiesto: Question: Why does Wukong's biblically accurate form have two faces? Also, was there some inspiration for you that made you want to design him like that? (Since I know he doesn't have any canonical Kaiju form in LMK) Also also, DAMN that Kaiju fight was so freaking pretty!! The colors were so well done!

thank you!! He has 3 actually, but in the panels you can see 2 bc the third is facing away from the camera aha.

Anonimo ha chiesto: would you make a Shadowpeach bio parents au zine?

yes I would. But it requires an enormeous amount of organization, plus you need multiple people to organize a zine, from contacting, to marketing, to production, to logistic etc… I don’t have the time right now as I’m already working.

@stro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Head canon that Red Son uses/used to use the ‘rubber duck’ method while working. The rubber duck method is: when making something by yourself you may get stuck/stressed out because you can’t find a solution to a problem. Have a rubber duck on your desk just so you can verbally explain your problem, which could help you solve it by actually hearing it out loud. But a side effect of this is now Red Son will talk to himself while he works, even if it does help it still freaks his parents out hearing him mumbling to himself when they pass his room. Just something I learned recently when watching a video about writing a characters backstory 👍 I thought you might like this too! Bye <3

i know need Red Son just talking about project to a cute rubber duck and MK finding it adorable.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will LBD come back ? Even if it is just in a dream ?

maybe

Anonimo ha chiesto: how old is MK ? Like 18-21 ???

almost 22.

@haru7110 ha chiesto: IS MEI IMMORTAL LIKE MK AND REDSON IN THE SHADOWPEACH AU??? I NEED TO KNOW!! Fornoreasonwhatsoeverobviouslyhahahahaha (angst purposes)

no Mei is not immortal, but I would guess she has a lifespan slightly longer than average bc of her family.

@cutvdo ha chiesto: When you first draw Red Son in his human form he looked small, but later he looks bigger (probably from you getting more comfortable drawing him). I like to think he changed his human form a bit because he found out MK likes big man

this is the best conclusion ever. He would fr fr

Anonimo ha chiesto: Guess you could say MK got his own personal monkey tree

omfg-

@aizieweex ha chiesto: Hey Kyri!!! I LOVE your art, aaaand thanks for the recent repost of my animatic (or animatik?...I honestly don't know which is more correct, I'm not a native speaker at all), I literally screamed, lol (And still screaming). I wanted to ask, how many parts of the comic are you counting on? Do you already have a certain planned number of chapters? Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! How long will the shadow peach bio parents au be?

there will be 9 parts in total. I don’t know the exact number of chapters left but I can assume around 30.

@copyrightedbystarkindustries ha chiesto: Love your art!!! Are you planning on putting shadowpeach au stuff on your redbubble in the future?

Yes I do! But first I need to finish my job which will be more or less on the 20th of January.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK use a glamour to hide some scars or something his parents aren’t supposed to find out about ?

yes

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: When you said during the livestream that MK will have a new outfit when he is magical girl, What do you mean by that ?

that he will eventually own a new outfit as “official outfit” let���s say. That isn’t his temporary fighting outfit he has now.

@magician-kitty ha chiesto: You think Mac will get more flustered now that Wukong’s more muscular thanks to all that weight lifting from the previous chapters?

a little bit yes.

@whotookfinn ha chiesto: Hey!! I’m absolutely in love with your art, it’s so beautiful and wonderful and IM OBSESSED. Anyway, I’m not sure if you’ve been asked this before, but who’s your favorite lmk character to draw?

macaque and Mk, they fluffy.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I HAVE A QUESTION! after your shadowpeach AU will be finished will you do other lmk Au????

nope.

@cjtuy ha chiesto: My question is about tang and pigsy are they married I've always wondered this

no they are not married, but it’s something they have been thought for a little bit. They known each other for years and got together for one. They know they work very well as a couple, and marriage would only be a more “official” way to show their union. It’s on their mind, maybe they will plan it in the near future

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you seen that Brandon Roger's clip where he loses his kid? I can just imagine macaque going through that right now with mk being kidnapped. "Mothers adrenaline is kicking in!!" "have you seen my son, he's about this tall, clearly gay but we haven't had the talk" https://youtu.be/dJJUFrENZ_o?si=lbacsYlJr8XpaDQQ (this is the sound just in case)

LMAO I know that video by heart yes absolutely those would be the parents.

Anonimo ha chiesto: In the Bioparents AU, is Redson actually going to be able to court so Mk in the end after the whole celestial situation?

they will have time to do their stuff after the heaven shenanigans.

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: I hope you are having a lovely day/night and are healthy and well AND TYSM FOR THAT SPICYNOODLES KISS I LOVED IT AND MY HEART WAS ABOUT TO BURST! Anyway I was wondering if mk and Redson parents are gonna have quality time with there Nephew in spirt/potential son in law?

mm yes. Post heaven shenanigans but yes.

@cpazy ha chiesto: About that,

It means that Mac and MK's powers have to do with the moon cycle, like on a full moon they get stronger or something like that? And if there is an eclipse where the moon turns red, their powers would go out of control?

Yes, but the opposite. On a full moon they are weaker, while on a new moon they are stronger.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! Not a question but I just love and ADORE your shadowpeach bio parents au! ❤️ Recently you had posted about LMK fic recommendations, I wanted to recommend "The Constellations Within Us" and it's sequel "Epilogue: Axis" (ongoing) by cloud_somersault on AO3. It's one of my favorite LMK/Shadowpeach fics! The writing and world building are stellar and it includes similar themes as the ones in your comic, like the themes of reconciliation, shadowpeach angst and repairing their friendship and their joint custod- I mean- mentorship of MK! It's a really good fic and I highly recommend giving it a read! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48308065 And again, love your comic so much! Have a great day! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

aaahhhh I will definetely check them out!

@astro-nomaly ha chiesto: Per ur Bio Parents AU, what happens when a courtnapping occurs, but the person getting napped isn’t actually into the courtnapper, and doesn’t want to be napped? Does courtnapping have a “leave whenever you want” clause or..? (I love ur au akshhenwb)

they are allowed to refuse anytime. If the kidnapper doesn’t allow the he’s a dick

@thecardboardbutterfly ha chiesto: Since everyone is starting to fear for tomorrow, I decided to share my convoluted thought I got yesterday night at like, 3AM to lighten the mood a bit (.3.)~* So Technically, given that Lmk is very much based on Journey to the West, maybe it's not that much of a stretch to call Lmk fan content of JTTW, like some kind of future AU or something. Which means your AU is fan content of Lmk. See where I'm getting at? Because your comic is so popular in the fandom, there is fan content of your AU out there, which is already fan content. Which means we reached a point where we have fan content (fanarts and various inspirations of the bio parents AU) of fan content (said bio parents AU) of fan content (Lmk) of a piece of content (JTTW). The chain is GETTING LONGER BOYS. I personally think it's funny. My apologies for everyone who lost their brain/ last remaining braincell reading this x)

omg. It’s a fan-inception!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will Red Son and MK ever have a bad date?

I like to believe EVERY date will have would be comically bad. But I think that’s because they still need to understand that they don’t fall under the “typical demon date” or “amatonormativity” umbrella. The best date they could have is just them training and having lunch later, or them playing videogames or netflix and chill.

@sollythesalt ha chiesto: Dumb question but do you remember the scene in lmk where Wukong said he has stage fright? I wonder if you're gonna do something with that knowledge…. Ps: Keep doing your magic queen we love you and your art✌️💅

oh u bet I did

[pomefioredove]

May I please have a sugar cookie, order number 15, with sprinkles & chocolate chips?

I'm super excited I came in time for this event, I adore your blog & am excited to see what comes of this.

(Pardon me as I cross my fingers in hoping to get one of my babygirls or just one of my faves)

—🐈‍⬛

you get one of MY babygirls. praise mana-sama for helping me through requests today

order #15, sugar with sprinkles and chocolate chips

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ unlike yourself

tropes: hurt/comfort, fake dating characters: rook additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, short and sweet, probably ooc

It's strange, you think.

Rook Hunt, the mysterious, distant vicewarden, loved you more in an evening than anyone else had in months.

Only an act. You had to remind yourself of that, every time he squeezed your hand or pulled you closer to him.

Every time he whispered something silly in your ear, every time he kissed the back of your hand. Only an act.

"I could write a thousand poems of you, mon amour, and never become bored of it,"

At some point, you had stopped looking at the others. You had forgotten they were there altogether.

It's only an act.

It felt like a fairytale, glittering, iridescent and silver, yet one that still ended at midnight in rags and pumpkin seeds.

You didn't want to think about that.

That by sunrise, the event would be over, and you would be back to your life. Back to your drafty dorm and secondhand clothes, back to your cold, lonely mornings. Back to yourself.

Back to the person you so hated.

Rook made you feel something unlike yourself. You were someone beautiful to him, someone interesting, someone loveable, someone worth teaching to dance, no matter how many times you stepped on his toes.

He only smiled.

You had asked him to be your date, to lie with you, to act with you, to prove to everyone that you were that someone, so unlike yourself, that you were beautiful and interesting and loveable, and worthy.

It had been your request. Just two hours, you said, and now you selfishly want more. You want years.

You want to make him feel the way he makes you.

"Your eyes are watering," Rook whispers, holding your face and drying your tears with the gentle touch of his gloved thumbs.

"Why are you sad, mon ange?"

You can't tell him. It's only an act. It's only an act. You want him to stay. He can't. He won't.

You can't ask him to stay.

"You are tired," he says, smiling sweetly, his cupid's bow curving. "Let's get you home, Trickster."

He's right, of course.

And you don't want to leave, you don't want to lose something on the velvet steps of the dorm, but you do, for him.

He walks you back to Ramshackle himself. He tucks you in bed and makes you something warm to eat since you both know the silver-plated hors d'oeuvres weren't enough.

You don't want to close your eyes. But he asks you to sleep, and you do, for him.

And so you wake up in your drafty dorm and your secondhand clothes in a bed that isn't really yours, feeling like yourself again.

But today, on this cold morning, he's sitting with you, and it isn't lonely.

"Oh, Trickster," he whispers, leaning over your, holding your face and gazing at you with something like softness.

"You did not have to ask me to stay. The answer is always yes."

And he kisses, again and again, your lips, your cheeks, your nose and head. He kisses that person, the one in rags, the messy one, the lonely one, you. He kisses you. He wants you.

And you think, perhaps this person, this yourself, isn't so bad.

Rook loves them, after all.

[vengefultakeover]

Yes, Doctor

I tapped my foot as I waited for the doctor to come in and see me. I had just gone through the normal procedures with the nurse, checking my weight, taking my blood pressure, the works. I was nervous to get the results of my last test after a scare with my platelet count. I had gone down a long spiral of online searches and pushing myself towards an anxiety attack I would probably had not come back from. The phone call to schedule an appointment was normal, unable to detect anything in the voice on the other end.

"You will be just fine." She said before hanging up. Maybe I should have been worried.

"Hello there, how are you doing today?" He was holding the clipboard like a shield. Bad sign. You would think they would try to make me as comfortable as possiblle to break the bad news.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked, wincing as he sat down next to me.

"Nothing at all - we just wanted to go over some of the results with you to talk about a healthier future." He said with a smile that melted away my worries. The moment I returned the smiled I saw something clear out of the corner of my eye. I snapped my head towards it and could make out a head poking through the wall.

"What the fuck?" My jaw dropped as I looked at it and when the doctor looked back at the apparition peeking in through the cinderblocks he looked back at me with a confused face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching out.

"You can see me?" The head said. I nodded. What else was I supposed to do.

"I think maybe we should get you psychologically evaluated." The doctor said, writing something down. The specter emerged from the wall with a glowing aura and he quickly rushed the doctor. He dropped his clipboard shield and pen sword and gasped as the ghost slid his fingers between his lips and pulled his mouth open. With a gag, the ghost shoved his head into his mouth while I stared in awe with the sounds of slurping filling the room. My cock twitched as the tight scrub pants tightened and the doctor's bulge appeared. Inch by inch the ghost filled up the doctor's body, his neck bulging and his eyes tearing up until he got knocked back in his chair. The last of the tail disappeared with a wet pop and the doctor looked at me with wide eyes. His left arm flailed away from his body and I could see where the ghost was inserting itself into his limb. The rest followed suit, his legs kicking out from underneath him until he spun around like a cartoon character and was looking down at himself with a shit eating grin.

"What the fuck just happened?" I watched him slide his hands down his body, the musculature of the doctor poking through the fabric. Within seconds he wanted to see more and stripped off the scrubs, tossing them to the side while returning the stethoscope to his neck like an accessory.

"Let's have some fun, fleshie." He pushed off his underwear and was now standing in the room without any clothes on, smirking at me.

"I'm not sure what's going on. What are you?" I asked. He took a step closer to me and I could feel his warmth. His cock was getting harder and so was mine.

"I'm shocked you were able to see me. I've never had a living see my ghost form. You weren't scared of it?" He chuckled.

"I think there are worse things in this world to be afraid of." I shrugged, the list growing longer in my mind.

"I suppose that's a good way to think about it." He inched closer to me, his cock grazing against my bulge.

"I guess so." My breath was starting to pick up.

"What do you say we have some fun while we're here?" He was grinning now, his hands sliding around my waist. A light tug and I was pressed against him, his cock sandwiched between us and pulsing. I pushed my hand up against his chest and squeezed, feeling his fuzzy pec in my hand.

"Will he know?" I wondered.

"They never do. We'll call it ghost-patient confidentiality." He got a kick out of that and his abs tightened as he laughed. I leaned in and kissed him, initiating the aggressive push against the wall and the grinding into my body. He couldn't really control himself, he was like a sexy doctor rabbit in heat. His hands squeezing me as I worshipped his body, suddenly finding myself bent over the examination table while he was beginning to explore my hole with his tongue. The crinkly white paper crunched below me and when I squeezed the sides of the bed my fingers turned red.

"Fuck yes. I want you so bad." I don't know what came over me as the doctor positioned himself behind me, his cock pulsing as he aligned it with my hole, squeezing it in. I bit my lip to prevent the moan from being heard outside of here. With each thrust I noticed I was barely breathing as I got so wrapped up in the pleasure. I could feel his cock starting to release inside of me and suddenly I was full of my doctor's seed while he was moaning, not keeping it from being heard.

"That was amazing. Maybe I'll haunt you outside of this stupid hospital." He slipped out of me and it made me shiver.

"I think I'd like that, Doctor." I said, standing up as we were both returning the crime scene back to its original condition. I pinched his nippled just as he slip the scrubs back on and I sat down where I was when the doctor's body was invaded.

"What are you doing?" He asked at the door.

"Oh, are you going to leave him?" I asked.

"Not today, we're going to go have some fun." He extended his hand and I was whisked away by this possessed hunk. I came in with the fear of a horrible diagnosis and somehow left closer to death than I ever thought I would be.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

My Top 10 Fics Of 2024

So, I have decided that I am gonna do the same thing that I did last year because I had so much fucking fun with this last time and it's a great way to look back and reflect on all the hard work I have done this year. And I am counting these down not based on statistics - not how many likes these posts have or how 'popular' they are, but based on how much I like them, and I get to really reflect on how writing these fics made me feel. And that is truly the most important part of fanfiction - how much fun I am having. So I am really happy and excited to reflect on all the awesome stuff I have written this year.

And I think a really great sign is that I had an incredibly difficult time with this year's ranking. Because I wrote so many amazing fics that I had so much fun with. Even if I had a really (not so fun) incident where I came very close to quitting fanfiction altogether, I had a lot of fun, and I wrote a lot of amazing things that I am so fucking proud of. And I'm only including fics in this ranking that I have posted (which is why I strategically waited until after certain fics were posted to write and make this ranking) - and not even including ones I have written and not yet posted, which are also fics I absolutely fucking love. So even if this year may not have been great for my mental health or my physical health, this year was a year where I felt great and comfortable and happy as an artist.

Anyway, here's the ranking!!

This year I posted 20 different fics consisting of over 250,000 words - and that is not including the fics I have not edited and the unfinished WIPs I have in my drafts.

Also keep in mind, if you randomly see this post in tags and you don't follow me, this is my main blog and not my fanfiction blog. My fanfiction blog is @sundrop-writes - you can follow me there to check out my fics and follow me for all my exciting fanfiction adventures in 2025.

Honorable Mentions:

Meddle About - Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader (6,300 words). I was slightly conflicted about if I should put this on the list or not, because currently, this is (in terms of statistics) the most popular fic on my blog right now, and usually when a fic is super popular, I am less inclined to like it. But this list is supposed to be strictly about how I feel about my fics and the experience I had while writing them. And I did really enjoy the experience of writing this fic - it was really fun to write something absolutely kinky and filthy and to write a fic that was so truly stuck in my head. I had a lot of fun with it.

The Restricted Section - Dom!Hermione Granger x Sub!Fem!Reader x (Secret Voyeur) Harry Potter (4,400 words). This is one of my absolute favourite fics that I have written this year, and it just didn't make the top ten because other fics were more my favourite. I loved writing this because it was such a fun PWP and it was one of those instances where I had the idea and then the fic was posted like a day later. It's a lot of fun.

Tongue Twister - Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!GN!Reader (2,000 words). This is one that I actually forgot that I wrote this year - it feels like so long ago lmao. But I really loved it when I wrote it, I love it now. I will always love Gar so much, and I love writing slutty fics about him.

Eager Little Puppy - Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!GN!Reader (2,700 words). This is by far one of my favourite things I have written this year - Isaac is one of my new favourite characters, and I have absolutely loved writing about him (and I look forward to writing more about him in the future). This is just a representation of how much I love him.

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson - Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader (8,300 words). This is another one that I forgot was from this year because it feels like so long ago. I really fucking love the concept and I really, really want to continue it further in 2025 (feel free to send me messages if you are excited about it and want to see more, because I would like to set aside some specific time to work on it). Anyway - I really love the start of it and I really love what I have planned for this fic in the future.

Now, onto The Top Ten:

10. Precious Time Alone (aka The Knot Fic) - Gar Logan x Fem!Reader (11,800 words)

Even with the ability to see the future, you never would have guessed that your life would lead you to falling in love with the perfect man - someone sweet, caring, funny, cute. Someone with the passion and fire to protect the ones that he loves no matter what. A precious guy with green hair who had the ability to transform into a tiger at will. And when you finally made love to him for the first time, you never could have guessed how that unique ability affected his sex life. You weren’t exactly complaining, but you wished you had seen this coming. At the end of the day, it was just another thing about him to love. Or - Neither you nor Gar knew that he has the ability to knot, and you both find out for the first time when you have sex together. Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

It's such an interesting coincidence that both this year and last year, the number ten slot contains a Gar fic that is a re-make/re-post. I have a lot of fics that are only on AO3 and not on Tumblr, and I highly recommend that you check out my AO3 for that reason, but if I am transferring a fic from AO3 to Tumblr, I love to go through and do some edits on it and see how I can improve it before I post it again.

I absolutely loved this fic when I first posted it, and I love it even more with the edits - including the new scene that I added. It is such a fun idea that could be considered Crack Fic (so often, I write Crack Fic concepts but I treat them seriously) - the idea that Gar has a Knot because he is 'an animal' (or because he has animal DNA). It's such a funny idea, but it was fun and hot to write porn about it.

I love this fic, and if it is your thing and you would enjoy reading it, I hope that you enjoy it too.

9. The Way You Miss Me - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader (18,500 words)

Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn’t need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled. And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred’s strength and determination. So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he’s the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he’s looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would? Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.

This fic is one of the reasons that the ranking was so difficult. This one got moved around a lot because I had so much fun writing it and working on it. I am also super proud of this fic because originally, the idea was going to be part of a much longer fic, and I am so glad that I was able to pull off the emotions and the tone that I wanted in a much shorter word count that took me a lot less time. It makes me incredibly proud of myself - that I don't feel like I have to spend months and months on an idea in order to truly pull it off.

I fucking love this fic and I am so happy with how it turned out.

8. Why Am I The One? - Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader (15,200 words)

Isaac loves you. He loves you more than anything else in the world - which is exactly why he has stayed away from you for so long. But when Derek kicks him out onto the street in the pouring rain with absolutely no warning and no reasoning as to why, Isaac has nowhere else to go. He could claim that he sought you out because you’re close by, because he knows that you won’t turn him away in his time of need - but deep down, it’s because he misses you. And staying away from you for so long is the hardest, stupidest thing he has ever done. Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 4.

Again, this is one that made the ranking very hard. I enjoyed the process of writing this so fucking much. I was immediately inspired when I saw the episode, and as soon as I saw it, I started working on this fic - the imagery of Isaac so slutty in his white shirt sparks the temptation to write smut, but I love the emotional depth of him being a literal kicked puppy (after being kicked out by Derek) and being emotionally vulnerable and needing some place to go and someone to turn to. It is literally a perfect recipe for the kind of smut I write - super hot sex with emotional depth because one of the characters is feeling vulnerable. It's perfect.

This fic is exactly what I wanted it to be when I set out to write it, and I especially loved exploring Isaac's grief for Erica (which is by far not explored enough in the show) and I might do a continuation of it in the future, I'm not sure. Either way, I think it's fantastic, and it definitely deserves a spot on this list.

7. She Keeps Me Up - Dom!MILF!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader (3,100 words)

JJ is protective of you. When you offer yourself up as ‘bait’ to lure in an UnSub who is killing women of your type, she protests endlessly about it - but ultimately she can’t stop you. She can, however, possessively lay her claim on you when you get back from the ordeal with nothing more than a tiny scratch. Dom!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader. Established Dom/Sub Relationship. Smut/PWP.

Like I said, this list is all about reflecting, and I was considering wiping all Criminal Minds fics off this list because of the experience that I had - but that wouldn't be fair to my past self or fair to my art. Especially because this is one of my favourite fics I have ever written and whenever I listen to the song that I titled it for, I still have incredibly fond memories of writing this fic.

I think that MILF!JJ is my favourite version of JJ, even though - ironically - I haven't seen a lot of the later seasons. But way too many people obsess over Professor Reid and Grey Haired Prentiss (who I also love, don't get me wrong) - but I think there is not enough love for MILF!JJ. Not by far. I want to be her controversially younger girlfriend.

I actually have something in my drafts that is MILF!JJ centric, and if I finished it, it would be the only thing that could get me to stray back into the Criminal Minds fandom. I am so down bad for JJ, it's not even funny. (So - if you wanna see more of her, feel free to come in my inbox and let me know.)

6. Blood In The Water - Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader (11,700 words)

Being Stiles’s best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He’s not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you. And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he’ll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles. He wants your pain. He wants your tears. Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Another one that made the ranking so hard. This fic was so much fun to write, because as I said in the A/N for it - I fucking love writing villains. I love writing characters who are absolutely unambiguously evil. I do think it's a big of a shame that the recent cultural shift is to write villains as morally ambiguous or to take characters who are evil (or morally grey shifting more towards 'bad' in the canon) and soften them up so much in fanfiction to make it seem like they did nothing wrong.

A lot of people write Void as one of those "he is bad but he won't hurt me because he loves me uwu" characters and I really don't like that - because I want to write him as a character who is absolutely fucking incapable of love. He does not know love, he doesn't know what it is, and he has absolutely no softness or fondness for any person.

I really want to write a sequel to this fic - I have one drafted out that I think would be so fucking good - and I think I want to make it one of my goals for 2025 to complete and post the sequel. Anyway, just this fic as it is, I fucking love it, and I had such a fantastic time writing it.

5. Downhill - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (20,100 words)

Draco knows his place in the world. He is a Malfoy, he is Pureblood. He is supposed to marry, carry on the Pureblood line. He is supposed to do everything that his parents would - including killing, if it’s what his Dark Lord wishes. Draco Malfoy is not supposed to hesitate. He is not supposed to feel fear. He is not supposed to have room in his heart for fondness, or even love. Not even when it comes to his bartered and bought fellow Pureblood fiancee. Love is nothing but a weakness. And Malfoys are not weak. Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage/Hesitant Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Half-Blood Prince.

This is one of the fics that caused me to strategically wait to make and post this whole list lmao. And I am glad that I actually got this fic posted when I wanted to, and I'm glad that I waited. I have had this fic brewing in my drafts for a long time, and I have had the general idea for it in my head for a lot longer. I've actually had the idea in my head for longer than the original fic existed (the fic that this is a prequel to) and when I figured out that I could utilise my idea here, I was so excited.

I love writing about the real consequences of Draco being a Death Eater and I fucking love writing the Arranged Marriage trope, and this was all my favourite things to write about rolled up into one. And I also loved writing the inclusion of Harry having a very shallow one-sided crush on the reader when she is too busy actually falling in love with Draco to notice. This was incredibly fun for me to write and I absolutely love how it turned out - so it is by far one of my favourite fics I have written this year.

4. Figure It Out - A Criminal Minds Casefic (18,000 words)

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team. When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance. Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I did not include the fic I obsessed over as my first fic of the year. This fic really did a lot for me as an artist - for so long I have been wanting to write something with a similar concept to the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood (something where the story essentially goes in reverse and more details are revealed along the way, constantly changing who you believe is the villain vs who is the victim). The first time I saw that music video, it changed me and I have been so radically inspired by it ever since.

And because this idea has been sitting in my head for literal years, I am so fucking proud that I managed to do it justice. And I do think that Criminal Minds is the perfect backdrop to do this kind of idea with, and I think that this is actually a kind of radical artistic episode that they might actually do.

I would also love to use this format for other fandoms (I think it would work so well for The Walking Dead especially, and you guys know that I want to apply everything I do to Titans) - so I am so glad that I wrote this fic and gained confidence in writing something with an usual format and that I just got to have fun with it.

3. When Doves Cry - Jason Todd x Gar Logan (11,100 words)

At Dick’s insistence, Jason comes back to Wayne Manor to help the Titans end Crane’s deadly plan. Jason doesn’t want redemption or forgiveness - he’s done believing that he’s worthy of those. Once Crane is back at Arkham where he belongs, Jason plans to disappear, never to be heard from again. But Gar - someone who never stopped loving Jason and never stopped believing in his goodness - has other plans. Jason Todd x Gar Logan. Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 13.

This fic is absolutely so fucking special to me. This is actually one of my only fics that has a dedication, even though most of my romance based fics should be dedicated to @nctzenkane - because he is the love of my life and he inspires most of my romance based fics in one way or another.

I wrote this fic at a time when I was really struggling as an artist. If you have been following me all year, then you will likely know about an incident where I spent months writing a longer fic, and that fic garnered some complaints and hate comments, and when I spoke up with my distaste for those comments - I was basically told to shut up, and I was told that fanfic readers have a right to be rude and treat fic authors like shit the second that we post our work to the 'public'.

And it really demotivated me and the whole incident really made me thoroughly consider quitting writing altogether, especially considering the fact that my chronic illness is getting worse each year and every single time I successfully post a fic, more and more work has gone into that fic behind the scenes (past my illness) in order to make that fic 'visible to the public'.

All of this to say that I was feeling down, disappointed and lost, and I asked Jaycen what to do - what I should write to truly make myself feel confident and good in my art again. I asked him to request something because I needed some inspiration and some artistic direction. And he requested this fic - because he usually only enjoys romances between canon character pairings (and he loves JayGar because I majorly fed him the juice on that) and he knows that Titans is my strong suit.

The fic is also incredibly special to me because the song is also incredibly special - even though I fucking love 80s music, I didn't really listen to Prince until Jaycen encouraged me to, and when I listened to this song for the first time, it really wormed its way in as one of my all time favourite songs. And it suits these characters and their dynamic so well in addition to being such a beautifully personal song to me.

So yeah - this fic is gonna go down in history as one of my top five favourite fics of all time, not just from this year. And it definitely made the ranking a lot harder.

2. Heaven's Gate - Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader (24,200 words)

Hope. Not the fragile, delicate thing that everyone mistakes it to be. Hope is stubborn, and grows inside of you long before you ever realize its purpose there. Hope can’t be crushed by a thousand pound tank or torn apart as easily as concrete walls can. Hope is balanced on the backs of songbirds, it whistles quietly in the wind, and it brings you right where you need to be (even if you don’t know it). Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff. Set during Seasons 1-5.

This is another fic that is so fucking special to me, and that's why it's so close to the top of the ranking. I have had this idea in mind for years probably - I fucking love the concept of any fic that involves reunions when it comes to The Walking Dead (and I could write 10,000 more fics based on this concept) because every single moment of reunion in the show just fucking gets me. Even though I don't really like Rick and Lori's relationship (and I love Lori, don't mistake me as a Lori hater - never), the moment where Rick gets out of the cube van and reunites with Carl and Lori for the first time in the first season - it gives me goosebumps every single time without fail.

So I simply aim to recreate that feeling with my fics.

Also - the bird symbolism. When I lived at my old place, I had a bird feeder right outside my window, and I used to do a lot of bird watching. And I became familiar with certain bird species and the rarity of certain types of birds, and there is just something hopeful that ignites within you when you see a particularly rare bird - and it is a myth I have heard that cardinals represent good luck (likely because of their rarity) when you see them.

And I love how the whole fic evolved to represent hope, which I think is something we all need more of in our lives. During this year of existential dread and sadness, it felt really good to write something that was purely about happiness and hope.

1. The Jaws of Life - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (19,900 words)

You and Jason don’t really hate each other - at least not anymore. Your feelings for each other are more than complicated, and before you have time to figure it all out, you have to part ways. Jason goes back to Gotham at Bruce’s behest, and you’re off to visit a long lost relative that you didn’t even know cared about you. Unfortunately, while you’re apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Friends With Benefits to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut, Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 3. 

Here is the big number one! I am giving this one the top spot even though it's incomplete (and I am kind of biased because in my head, I am including how amazing stuff from the second part is) - and maybe it's just an excuse to include such an amazing fic in two different 'Top 10 Fics of The Year' posts lmao. Because when I post the second part in January, technically it will count for next year too.

But anyway - I love this fic so fucking much. This fic has been so long in the making, and I love every single aspect of it - the emotions, the metaphors, the length. This is one of those fics that is perfect to me because it came out exactly how I wanted it to be in my head. I am so utterly proud of this fic, and I am so glad that people are getting to read it now, even if it is just the first part.

Anyway - that's all for this year, and I am sooo looking forward to seeing what I can come up with next year.

[angelltheninth]

Every Time He Leaves

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, reunions, teasing, family planning

Word count: 0.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I heard that the sequel isn't coming in 2025 but that won't stop me from writing fics for this amazing man.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccuping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

[amethystarachnid]

Hello! Could I ask for Steve Rogers for your Marvel Christmas specials? Number 23 (Santa’s Little Helper  – You and your character end up volunteering together at a local holiday charity or helping out in a Christmas toy drive.) please.

I don't know why, but I think he's the perfect match for something like volunteering for charity, especially if it were for kids in need. Just some sweet sweet fluff, I know the kids would love to play around with him (climbing all over him y'know)

A PLACE TO STAY - part I

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, some angst, more fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k (I told you the fic wrote itself)

ᯓ★ Summary: Steve and y/n decide to buy some gifts for the kids in an orphanage, what they don't expect is to have a little girl attached to the hip. how will they leave now?

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abandonment and abandonment issues

ᯓ★ I'm so sorry I know you asked just fluff but I swear the fic wrote itself, and I will sure as hell write a second part where Steve and Y/n adopt Olivia because I'm crying.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The soft hum of Christmas music plays from the speaker tucked into the corner of your apartment, filling the room with warmth and a sense of the season. Outside, snow falls lazily, blanketing Brooklyn in a pristine sheet of white. Inside, the two of you are curled up on the couch, a fuzzy throw blanket draped over your legs and a half-empty mug of cocoa forgotten on the coffee table.

Steve’s arm is slung over your shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your upper arm through the fabric of your sweater. It’s a lazy December evening, the kind where the world feels a little slower, a little softer, and you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be than here, in this little pocket of warmth with him.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling, a touch of amusement in his tone as he looks down at you. You’re nestled against his side, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Mhm,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head. “I could stay like this forever.”

His chuckle vibrates through you, deep and rich. “Not a bad idea. We can hibernate till spring.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, catching the teasing glint in his blue eyes. His hair is slightly mussed, one of your favorite looks on him, and his sweater—a soft navy one you’d insisted he get because it matched his eyes—clings to him in a way that makes you want to tug him even closer.

“I think you’d get stir-crazy after a day,” you say, smiling. “You’re not built for sitting still, Rogers.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “But if I’ve got you here with me, I think I could manage.”

Your heart squeezes at the way he says it, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way Steve looks at you, like you’re the most important thing in the room, in his life. You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his temple.

“I love you,” you say softly.

He doesn’t answer right away; he never rushes when he looks at you like this, like he’s savoring every second of it. Then he smiles, that slow, sweet smile that makes your knees weak even when you’re sitting down. “I love you, too,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of it all—the faint crackle of the fireplace app on your TV, the weight of his arm around you, the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you both decorated a week ago. Then Steve shifts slightly, his hand moving from your arm to rest on your thigh, and you catch the thoughtful look in his eyes.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, tilting your head to study him.

He hesitates, which is rare for him. Steve’s always been the type to speak his mind, but you’ve learned that sometimes he takes his time when it’s something that really matters to him.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he says finally. “Something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, sitting up a little so you can face him better. “What is it?”

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing toward the window as if he’s searching for the right words. When he looks back at you, there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart ache a little.

“You know how much I love Christmas,” he begins, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And not just the lights and the music and all that. It’s always been about... giving back. Doing something meaningful.”

You nod, already feeling a warmth spread through you at the direction this is going. “That sounds like you,” you say, your smile matching his.

“Well,” he continues, his fingers brushing against yours, “I was thinking. This year, maybe we could do something together. Something for kids who don’t have as much. Like in orphanages, or shelters. We could bring them gifts, spend some time with them. Make their Christmas a little brighter.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes hold yours like this idea means the world to him. He’s always been like this—big heart, bigger dreams. And he’s always thinking about how to make the world a better place, one person at a time.

“That’s a beautiful idea, Steve,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Of course I’ll help. I’d love to.”

The way his face lights up is enough to make you forget the chill outside, forget everything but him. “You mean it?” he asks, like he can’t quite believe you’d say no but still needs to hear you confirm it.

“Of course,” you say, squeezing his hand. “We’ll make it happen. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his smile soft and grateful. Then he leans in, cupping your face with one hand as he kisses you. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl under the blanket and your heart feel like it’s trying to escape your chest.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can’t help but smile at how close he keeps you. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

“I try,” you tease, though your cheeks are warm from his words.

He laughs, a sound that feels like sunshine breaking through the snowstorm outside. “We’ll need to start planning soon,” he says. “I was thinking we could make it a mix of things—gifts, maybe some activities. And definitely food. Can’t forget the food.”

You nod along, already picturing the two of you wrapping presents and brainstorming ideas together. “Sounds perfect,” you say. “And you know I’m good with organizing stuff. Just tell me what you need.”

Steve’s grin widens, and he pulls you back against his chest, holding you close like he can’t quite let go yet. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asks, half to himself.

“You saved the world a couple of times,” you reply with a grin, earning another laugh from him.

“You make it sound so casual,” he says, shaking his head.

You just smile and settle back into his embrace, letting the warmth of him and the moment wrap around you like a second blanket. Outside, the snow keeps falling, and inside, you know this is going to be a Christmas to remember.

The following weekend, after a week of planning and buying supplies, you and Steve are seated together at the kitchen table in your Brooklyn apartment, an array of colorful gift bags, wrapping paper, and toys scattered around you. The room is cozy, the hum of the heater mingling with the faint sound of the radio playing a Christmas song. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere, warm and inviting, for the task you’ve set out to do.

You unwrap another toy—a little plush giraffe—and place it carefully into one of the gift bags. Steve does the same with a toy truck, grinning as he reads the label on the back. “I’m just saying, I’d be pretty excited if someone gave me one of these,” he says, giving the truck a little shake as though testing it out.

“You’re 100% a kid at heart,” you reply with a laugh. “But yeah, I think they’re going to love these.”

Steve shoots you a sideways glance, eyes glinting with mischief. “Are you calling me immature?”

“Not at all,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m just saying you’re very easy to shop for.”

He pretends to look hurt, dramatically clutching his chest. “Ouch, that cuts deep.”

You can’t help but giggle at his theatrics, your heart swelling as you watch him. You’ve always known Steve had a playful side, but it’s moments like this that remind you how much you love his ability to make even the most mundane tasks fun.

The two of you have spent the last few hours going through the kids’ wishlists, some of which were surprisingly simple, while others tugged at your heart. One little girl, age seven, asked for a "doll with long hair." Another boy, maybe around ten, wrote that he wanted "a toy airplane, but one that could fly like a real one." You’re constantly amazed by the purity of their wishes, the things they dream of that seem so small yet are filled with so much hope.

“That’s a pretty big ask for a toy airplane,” you say, looking over at Steve. “What do you think? Should we get him something that flies, or...?”

Steve rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Something that actually flies?” He grins at you, his eyes twinkling. “You know I’m always down for a challenge, but I think we should stick with something more realistic. How about a remote-controlled one? They’re fun, and it’s not like the kid’s asking for a jet.”

You nod, smiling at his practicality. “Good call. We’ll grab one of those.”

After a few more hours of sorting through toys, checking and double-checking the lists, you and Steve are finally finished. You stretch your arms over your head and look at the pile of wrapped gifts you’ve managed to create. It’s a satisfying sight—brightly colored paper, neat bows, and the satisfaction of knowing these toys are going to bring joy to kids who might otherwise go without.

“I think we’re done here,” you say, smiling at Steve, who is just finishing the last bit of wrapping on a small box.

“I think you’re right,” he says, glancing around at the festive chaos of wrapping supplies scattered across the table. “This is actually kind of fun. We should do this every year.”

You beam up at him. “Agreed. And next year, we’ll probably need a bigger table.”

After packing everything up into several large bags, Steve helps you load them into the back of his car. The trunk is already half-filled, and as you stand side by side, looking over the pile of gifts, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

You glance up at him, your smile softening. “Right back at you. You came up with this idea, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who made it happen,” he says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, his gaze soft as he studies you. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you forget about the gifts, the plans, everything except Steve’s presence. “I love you,” you whisper.

He smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I love you, too.”

The drive to the orphanage is peaceful, the streets of Brooklyn decorated with twinkling lights and signs of holiday cheer. You both chat about your plans for the rest of the day—maybe grab a coffee afterward, or walk around the city—but the closer you get to your destination, the more your thoughts turn to the kids and what they might be like. You wonder if they’ll be excited, nervous, or shy. It’s all a bit of an unknown, but you’re both determined to make it special for them, no matter what.

As you pull up to the orphanage, a large, older building with a faded red brick exterior, you can see children peeking out from behind the windows, their curious faces illuminated by the soft glow of the Christmas lights draped across the building. You grab the bags of gifts from the trunk, and Steve takes the lead, walking toward the entrance, holding the door open for you.

The building’s interior is warm, with a low hum of activity—kids running around, laughing, some playing with older toys, others reading books in the corner. You both stand in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.

A woman who must be one of the caretakers approaches, her face lighting up as she sees you both. “You must be Mr. Rogers and Miss Y/n,” she says warmly. “Thank you so much for coming. The kids are going to be so excited!”

Steve smiles, a little bashful as always, but his voice is confident. “We’re happy to be here. We’ve got lots of gifts for them.”

The caretaker’s eyes flicker between you and Steve, and you can see a hint of surprise, though she hides it quickly. “It’s really kind of you,” she says. “We don’t get many visitors, especially not ones with such... generous hearts.”

“We’re just glad to help,” you reply with a smile, adjusting the strap of your bag.

With the gifts handed off to the staff, you’re introduced to the children. There are a lot of them—some shy, others enthusiastic, but all of them curious about the strangers in their midst. You and Steve work together to hand out the presents, and there’s something magical about seeing the kids’ faces light up as they unwrap their gifts. A shy little girl squeals in delight as she pulls a stuffed unicorn from her gift bag, and a boy nearly trips over his feet in excitement as he gets his remote-controlled airplane. The joy in their eyes makes the whole experience worth it.

But there’s one little girl who stands out from the crowd.

She’s tiny, maybe three years old, with soft, curly brown hair and big, brown eyes that never seem to leave you. She’s holding a teddy bear close to her chest, and when you kneel down to give her a gift, her gaze flickers between you and Steve, her lip trembling.

“Hi there,” you say softly, offering her a brightly wrapped present. “This is for you.”

Her eyes widen as she takes it, clinging to her teddy bear with one hand while carefully unwrapping the paper. You watch her closely, noticing how she seems a little unsure of everything—her speech not quite clear as she murmurs something unintelligible under her breath. You don’t mind, though. You’re in no rush. You’re here for her, for all of them.

Steve squats down beside you, his large hand hovering just above her shoulder in a quiet show of reassurance. “What’s your name, little one?” he asks gently.

The girl looks up at him, her eyes wide as she shifts her gaze from you to him. After a beat, she gives a little shrug, her brow furrowing as if she’s unsure how to respond. You smile softly and tilt your head toward her.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice gentle and soothing. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But we’re really happy you’re here.”

Her eyes stay fixed on you, still uncertain but drawn to the calmness in your voice. She pulls the ribbon off her gift, her tiny fingers fumbling with it for a moment before she manages to untie it, revealing a small, colorful doll.

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and she looks up at you, her eyes a little brighter. Her voice is soft, but you can just make out the words she stumbles through. “Doll... for me?”

You nod, your heart swelling. “Yes, sweetheart. That one’s all for you.”

She hugs it close to her chest, glancing back and forth between you and Steve, before shyly reaching out for your hand. You gently take it, your heart swelling at the small but trusting gesture. She might be too shy to speak much, but her little hand in yours speaks volumes.

Steve’s gaze softens as he watches the interaction, his hand resting lightly on her head. “She’s got a good grip for someone so little,” he murmurs.

You nod, smiling at the way the little girl is clinging to you, her eyes softening as she curls into your side. “She’s a sweet one,” you say, your voice low as you kneel down beside her, letting her feel safe and calm in your presence.

As the day goes on, the room fills with more laughter and joy, and the connection with the children deepens. But it’s this little girl, the one so small and yet so full of trust, who tugs most at your heartstrings. She doesn’t speak much, but when she reaches for you or Steve, you know she’s found a quiet comfort in both of you.

The morning slips by in a flurry of laughter, bright eyes, and the shuffle of little feet. The toys you and Steve brought are scattered all around the orphanage’s common room, and the kids are absolutely absorbed in them—trucks zooming across the floor, dolls being tucked into makeshift beds, and a few kids giggling as they watch the remote-controlled airplane soar through the air.

Steve, of course, is in his element, kneeling down beside the boys to help them maneuver their toy trucks. The grin on his face is enough to make anyone believe he’s reliving his own childhood. You can’t help but watch him, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you at the sight of him. He’s so good with the kids, so patient, so kind. He’s always been a hero, but in moments like this, you see him in a new light—he’s not just Captain America; he’s just a man who wants to make the world better, one small moment at a time.

As he engages with the boys, you turn your attention back to the little girl who’s been quietly following you. She’s still clutching her doll close to her chest, her eyes a little unsure, but there’s something in the way she watches you—something soft, something tentative, that tells you she’s starting to feel a little less guarded. You smile gently, crouching down to her level, and the moment your eyes meet, she ducks her head shyly, clutching her doll even tighter.

“Hey there,” you say softly, trying to coax her out of her shell. “You like your new doll?”

She looks up at you then, her dark eyes wide, as if she’s not quite sure what to make of your question. Slowly, she nods, her gaze flickering between you and the doll. Her little fingers run over the fabric of its dress as she hugs it to her chest.

“Pretty,” she murmurs in a soft, childlike voice, the words almost too quiet to hear.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at the sound of her voice. “Yeah, she’s pretty. Just like you.”

The girl doesn’t respond, but she looks up at you again, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles. It’s enough to make you feel like you’ve won a small victory. The quiet way she’s speaking, the way she’s reaching out to you, is a sign that she’s starting to trust you, even if only a little.

You reach out slowly, letting her take her time. “Do you want me to hold her for a while?”

The girl hesitates, looking down at the doll and then back at you. Slowly, she reaches out and hands you the doll, her fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, but it means so much to you. You cradle the doll in your arms, and for the first time, the little girl seems to relax a little, stepping a fraction closer to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of quiet admiration for how brave she’s being.

Just as you’re about to say something else, a loud burst of laughter rings out across the room, and you turn to see Steve kneeling on the floor with the older boys, showing them how to make the remote-controlled airplane do loops in the air. One of the boys is cheering, clapping his hands in excitement, while the others are watching with wide eyes.

The sight of Steve interacting with the other children seems to pull your attention away for just a moment, and when you glance back at the little girl, you’re surprised to find her standing right next to you, her gaze fixed on Steve with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

“Steve’s fun,” you say, offering her a gentle smile. “He’s really good at playing.”

The girl looks up at you with a small frown, still holding onto her doll but inching closer to you. “Steve?” she repeats softly, as if testing the name on her lips.

“Yeah, Steve,” you affirm, your voice gentle. “He’s a good friend.”

Her gaze flickers toward Steve, who’s still helping the kids with their toys. His laughter rings out, so easy and light, and the girl takes another step closer to you, her fingers tentatively reaching for your hand. You smile softly, taking her hand in yours.

“That’s Steve,” you say again, nodding toward him. “He’s nice.”

At first, the girl hesitates, but after a few moments, she seems to relax a little, still clinging to you, but her eyes on Steve now. It’s like she’s testing him in her own way, trying to decide if she can trust him, too.

“Play?” she asks in a tiny voice, pointing toward Steve. Her words are still so soft, and her speech is still uncertain, like she’s not yet comfortable with the world around her. But there’s an openness in her that makes your heart ache a little.

“Do you want to go play with him?” you ask, kneeling down to her level again. “You can. I bet he’d love to play with you.”

The little girl looks at you, and for a long moment, it seems like she’s not sure. But then, she takes another step closer to Steve, her doll still firmly clutched to her chest. You watch her with a quiet sense of hope, feeling your heart swell with the tiniest bit of pride. She’s trusting you. And now, it seems like she’s starting to trust Steve, too.

Steve catches sight of her moving toward him and offers a warm smile. “Hey there, little one,” he greets her softly. “You want to play with us?”

The girl looks at him for a moment, her eyes still uncertain, but she nods slowly, taking another cautious step toward him. Her tiny hand reaches for his, and Steve gently takes it, kneeling down so he’s at her level.

“Want to fly the airplane with me?” he asks in a calm, kind voice.

The girl looks at the airplane, her gaze lighting up for just a moment before she looks back at you. She’s still holding onto her doll, but she’s looking at Steve now, waiting for his next move.

“It’s really easy,” Steve continues, gently guiding her to sit beside him. “You just press the button here, like this.” He presses a button on the remote, and the airplane zooms into the air.

The girl watches, eyes wide with awe. She turns to you, her gaze searching for approval.

“It’s safe,” you assure her with a smile. “Steve’s really good at it. You can try it, if you want.”

After a long pause, she turns back to Steve, a little more confident now. “Try?” she asks, her voice a little stronger this time.

“You bet,” Steve says, his voice full of encouragement. “I’ll show you how. Just press this button.”

With a tentative hand, the girl reaches out, her tiny fingers brushing the remote. Steve guides her hand gently, and when the airplane soars into the air again, her face lights up with joy.

You watch the interaction with a quiet sense of happiness, but at the same time, there’s something pulling at your heart. The little girl is so small, so fragile, and yet she’s starting to trust not only you but Steve as well. It’s like she’s blossoming before your eyes, and it feels like a privilege to witness it.

But as the day goes on, a small pang of worry starts to creep into the back of your mind. You know how these moments go. You know that sometimes, when kids get attached, it can be hard for them to understand why people leave.

As you’re helping a few of the younger children color pictures, one of the caretakers—an older woman with kind eyes—approaches you. She’s got a solemn expression on her face as she quietly pulls you aside. Steve’s still busy with the other kids, so he doesn’t notice the exchange.

“Miss Y/n, Mr. Rogers,” she begins, her voice low and cautious. “I’m so grateful for the gifts and for everything you’ve done for these children today, but… there’s something you should know about the little girl who’s been sticking to you.”

Your stomach tightens. “What’s wrong?”

The caretaker looks over at the little girl, who’s still playing with Steve, her focus entirely on the remote-controlled airplane. “Her name is Olivia,” she says quietly. “She’s been here since she was about one, and… well, she’s had a hard time with attachments.”

Your heart sinks a little. You try to keep your voice calm. “What do you mean?”

The caretaker hesitates for a moment, glancing at the girl again. “She was abandoned. Left at the hospital when she was a baby. And ever since, she’s had a difficult time trusting people. She gets attached easily, but when people leave her, she—” The woman trails off, clearly not wanting to say it out loud.

When she speaks again, it’s with a quiet sense of warning. “She’s just starting to open up to you two. But if she gets too attached, if she starts to think of you as her… family, it could break her when you leave.”

You look at the little girl—Olivia—playing with Steve. She’s so innocent, so sweet, and the idea of her being hurt is almost unbearable.

“I understand,” you say softly, feeling a knot form in your throat. “We’ll be careful.”

But as you glance back at Olivia, sitting on Steve’s knee, her eyes wide with wonder, you know that it’s already too late. She’s already attached to you both in a way that no one can truly predict, and as much as you want to protect her, you know there’s nothing you can do to stop the inevitable heartbreak. The heartache that will come when she realizes you’re not staying.

And yet, despite the warning, despite the ache in your chest, you find yourself taking another step toward her, watching her smile up at Steve, her tiny hand resting in his. Some part of you knows that whatever happens, whatever heartbreak comes next, this moment, this tiny piece of joy, is worth everything.

As the day continues, the laughter and excitement in the orphanage grow louder, the sound of children’s voices mingling with the cheerful chime of Christmas music in the background. The toy airplane flies through the air again, spinning in dizzying loops, and Steve’s gentle voice guides Olivia’s small hands as she tries to control it, her grip still unsure but filled with an eagerness to learn.

You watch the two of them from the corner of the room, your heart swelling as you see how Steve is patiently showing Olivia how to work the controls, guiding her small hands with the same careful attention he always gives everyone. Olivia, in turn, seems captivated, her wide eyes focused solely on the airplane as it soars and dips. She lets out a small giggle when it flies low, and you can see a flicker of something like trust beginning to settle in her features.

A soft pull at your sleeve draws your attention, and you turn to find Olivia standing right beside you again, her big brown eyes wide and expectant.

“Y/n,” she says in a soft voice, and the way she says your name makes your heart ache. It’s still so fragile, so tentative, but there’s a quiet confidence behind it. “Pick up?”

You blink, surprised. For most of the day, Olivia has been content to stay a few steps away, observing, watching as you and Steve interacted with the other children. She hadn’t made any real attempt to get closer to either of you, and the fact that she was now reaching out in this way is a small but significant shift. Your chest tightens as you realize what this means.

“You want me to hold you?” you ask, your voice soft and full of tenderness.

Olivia nods, her tiny hands reaching up toward you, and there’s a quiet plea in her eyes—one that says she’s seeking comfort, seeking warmth in the middle of the excitement, something that’s just for her.

Without hesitation, you bend down, scooping her up gently, being careful not to disturb the doll she’s still clutching. Her tiny body relaxes as she’s lifted into your arms, and she nuzzles against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. You feel the weight of her trust settle in your arms, and for a moment, you close your eyes, savoring the feeling. She’s so small, so fragile, and yet she has placed her trust in you so completely.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you hold her close.

She responds with a soft, contented hum, her little hand wrapping around your neck, clinging to you as if she’s afraid you might disappear. You tighten your hold on her, making sure she feels safe in your embrace.

From across the room, Steve watches the two of you, a soft smile on his lips as he continues to play with the other children. But his gaze flickers back to Olivia now and then, his protective instincts flaring in ways you can only imagine.

You shift slightly, carrying Olivia toward the group of kids Steve is playing with. As you approach, Steve looks up and gives you a quiet nod, his smile widening when he sees how Olivia has settled into your arms.

“She’s getting more comfortable, huh?” Steve says, his voice soft, but there’s a hint of both pride and concern in it.

“Yeah,” you reply, your tone full of quiet wonder. “She really is.”

Olivia doesn’t say anything, but her fingers curl around your shirt, her head still resting on your shoulder. It’s as if she’s found a place she can finally feel safe—something that, up until now, might have felt impossible for her. There’s something in the way she’s clinging to you that makes your heart ache with a mixture of love and fear. She’s so little, and the world can be so big and unpredictable, but right now, in this moment, she’s holding on to you with everything she’s got.

Steve moves closer, kneeling down to be at her eye level. He reaches out a hand, gentle and steady. “Olivia,” he says softly, his voice full of warmth. “You want to play some more? We’ve got a lot of fun toys.”

Olivia looks up at him with big eyes, her small face still somewhat wary. For a moment, she seems unsure. But then, she surprises you both by shifting her little body in your arms and turning toward Steve. There’s a softness in her gaze now, a hesitant trust that wasn’t there before.

“Play,” she says in that tiny voice, her words still so soft but filled with a quiet determination.

You let out a small breath of relief, your grip on her loosening just enough for her to be able to step away from you. But even as she moves toward Steve, she reaches back for you with a small, almost imperceptible gesture. Her fingers brush yours, seeking that connection.

You smile, touching her hand briefly before letting her go to Steve. It’s a small step, but it’s one that means everything.

Steve, ever the patient one, offers his hand to Olivia, guiding her toward a small table where the other kids are building with blocks. As he walks with her, his smile never fades, even as she seems to shy away slightly from the other children. He gives her space, letting her explore on her own terms.

“You wanna help me build a tower?” Steve asks her, his voice warm and encouraging.

Olivia looks up at him, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Tower?” she repeats, sounding out the word carefully.

“Yeah, a big one,” Steve affirms. “I think you’re gonna be great at it.”

She nods, her focus now entirely on the colorful blocks in front of her. She picks one up carefully, turning it over in her small hands. You watch her from where you’re standing, a quiet sense of pride swelling in your chest. This little girl, who had been so withdrawn just hours ago, is now actively participating, engaging with the world around her.

As you step back, you join the other children who are sitting on the floor, coloring pictures or playing with dolls. You try to keep an eye on Olivia without hovering too closely, giving her the space she needs to grow and trust on her own terms. It’s not easy, though, because your heart keeps pulling you back to her. You can’t help but worry about her, about what’s going to happen when the day comes to an end and you both have to leave.

For now, though, you try to focus on the present. The kids around you are still deep in their own activities, and there’s a sense of joy in the room, one that you can feel radiating from them. It’s infectious, this energy, and it makes you grateful for the opportunity to spend this time with them, to give them a small piece of happiness.

Olivia, it seems, is growing more comfortable with Steve. She’s fully immersed in building a tower now, and when she picks up another block, she looks up at him for reassurance. “More?” she asks, and Steve chuckles, nodding.

“Of course, more. We’ll make it the biggest tower ever.”

Her eyes light up, and she enthusiastically starts stacking more blocks, the tower growing taller and taller with each passing moment. Steve doesn’t rush her, doesn’t push her to go faster. He simply watches her, offering encouragement when needed, making sure she feels proud of every little step she takes.

The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the orphanage as the day winds down. The cheerful chaos of children’s laughter and playful chatter starts to quiet, the toys being gathered up, the Christmas music fading to a gentle hum in the background. The once-bright room is now filled with a soft, melancholy glow, signaling the end of the day.

You can’t help but feel the bittersweetness of it all. The day has been filled with so much joy—so many smiles, so much laughter. And yet, as the clock ticks on and the children begin to gather their things, a heavy weight settles in your chest. You know what’s coming. You know that the moment you and Steve walk out the door, you’ll be leaving behind a part of yourself, a piece of your heart, with these children, especially with Olivia.

As you stand near the door, watching as the children slowly start to gather their jackets and shoes, your gaze drifts to Olivia. She’s standing near the coat rack, her tiny hands reaching for her jacket with the same determination you’ve seen in her all day. Her wide, trusting eyes are fixed on you, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Steve is at your side, his expression equally heavy, his hand resting on your shoulder as you both watch the little girl from a distance.

“I think she’s getting ready to leave with us,” you whisper, your heart aching as you see Olivia struggling to put on her coat, her movements clumsy, her tiny fingers fumbling with the buttons. It’s like she’s already made up her mind that you’re going to take her home with you.

“Yeah,” Steve replies quietly, his voice rough, filled with a quiet pain that mirrors your own. “She’s really attached.”

You take a deep breath, but it feels like there’s a lump lodged in your throat. The promise you’d made to her—to come back and see her again—feels almost impossible in this moment. How can you leave a little girl who’s already started to trust you, to care for you, when all she wants is to stay with you?

Slowly, you step toward her, trying to keep the tears at bay. Olivia has finally managed to get her jacket on, and now she’s walking toward you, her small legs moving with a determined little waddle. When she reaches you, she lifts her arms up, holding her jacket out to you with a hopeful look on her face.

“Go now?” she asks, her voice small but insistent, her lips trembling with the effort of saying the words.

You kneel down to her level, your heart hammering in your chest. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her eyes. “Olivia, sweetheart,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “we can’t take you with us right now.”

Olivia blinks up at you, her eyes wide and confused. “But go now?” she repeats, her little hands clutching at her jacket, her expression one of complete innocence and trust.

Steve crouches down next to you, his own heart breaking as he reaches out to gently rest a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, we can’t take you home with us today,” he says gently, his voice full of warmth but tinged with sorrow. “You have to stay here for now. But we promise we’ll come back. We’ll see you again soon, okay?”

The words come out easily, but the promise feels like it’s weighing a ton on your heart. You know she doesn’t fully understand, not in the way an adult would, but she’s heard the word "promise" before, and she’s holding on to it as though it’s the most important thing in the world. Her face scrunches up, and her small lips tremble.

“No,” she says, shaking her head frantically. “Stay with you. Please.”

Your heart cracks at the desperation in her voice, at the sheer helplessness in her small form. You reach out, wrapping your arms around her in a gentle embrace, holding her close as her body trembles in your arms.

“Oh, baby, I wish we could,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I really do.”

Olivia clings to you, her little arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug, as though she’s trying to hold on to you for dear life. The small, helpless sob that escapes her lips pierces your heart, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to break. You rub her back gently, trying to soothe her, trying to tell her everything’s going to be okay.

But it’s not okay. It’s not okay for her. Not when she’s so desperate for love, for safety, for someone to hold her and take her home. The tears in her eyes are a reflection of all the things she’s been through, all the abandonment, the fear, the loneliness. And now, she’s finally found something she can hold on to, someone who loves her, even if just for a short while. And the idea of losing that… of losing you… is too much for her to bear.

“Please,” she whispers again, her voice cracking as she pulls away slightly, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

You feel your own tears begin to fall, and you quickly swipe them away, trying to be strong for her. “Olivia, we’ll come back,” you promise again, your voice breaking slightly. “We’ll come back and see you. We won’t forget about you, okay?”

But even as the words leave your lips, you can see the doubt in her eyes. She’s been abandoned before, left alone by the people who were supposed to take care of her. Your promise feels like just another thing she’s heard before, another empty promise that’s been broken. And that realization, the understanding that she’s already been through so much and still doesn’t trust that anyone will come back for her, makes your heart break even more.

Steve kneels down beside the two of you, and for a moment, he doesn’t speak. His hand rests on Olivia’s back, and his eyes are filled with the same sorrow that you’re feeling. He doesn’t know how to fix this, how to ease her pain. All he can do is be here, offering her comfort, offering her warmth in this moment.

“I know it’s hard,” Steve says softly, his voice filled with quiet tenderness. “But we’ll come back. We’ll be here again, and we’ll make sure you’re okay. You’re not alone, Olivia.”

But the little girl doesn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she pulls away from you completely, her small hands pushing against your chest as she backs away, her sobs growing louder.

“No, no!” she cries, her voice shaking with the force of her emotion. “I want to go with you!”

The sound of her tears rips through you like a blade, and you’re not sure how to react. You want to hold her, to comfort her, to make everything okay, but you know that this is a hurt you can’t fix. Not right now. Not in this moment.

Steve stands up, his hand reaching for you as he gives Olivia one last, long look. You see the same look in his eyes—one of helplessness, one of sorrow. You know he’s feeling the same thing you are: the ache of leaving this sweet, innocent little girl who’s finally found something to hold on to.

“We’ll be back, Olivia,” you say one last time, your voice breaking. “I promise.”

The words sound hollow even to you, and you know that the moment you leave, she won’t understand. You can only hope that in time, the promise will mean something to her.

With a heavy heart, you turn away from Olivia, feeling as if you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind. Steve follows you, his hand brushing against your back as you both make your way to the door.

The sound of Olivia’s sobs follows you all the way to the exit, echoing in your ears as you step out of the orphanage. And with every step, it feels as though your heart is breaking just a little bit more.

When you finally get to the apartment, the silence feels deafening. The weight of the day, the weight of Olivia’s tears, is still heavy in the air. You try to focus on something else, anything else, but all you can think about is the little girl you had to leave behind. The little girl who just wanted to be loved.

You sit down on the couch, your hands shaking as you remove your coat, and Steve follows you, sitting beside you, but there’s a coldness in the room now, an emptiness that wasn’t there before. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you try to hold them back, but the weight of it all is too much.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears finally fall.

Steve pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you as you bury your face in his chest. His hand strokes your hair gently, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. There’s nothing to say, really. The pain is too raw, too fresh.

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “I know. It’s hard. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this either.”

But as you hold each other, you know there’s nothing else to do except try to keep your promise. To keep coming back. To keep showing up for Olivia, even if it means facing this heartbreaking reality every time.

For now, though, you let the tears come. And when you close your eyes, you can still see Olivia’s face, the way she cried, the way she reached for you, and you know, deep down, that she’ll stay with you in your heart. Forever.

The days following that heart-wrenching goodbye at the orphanage were difficult, but in a way, they also brought a sense of purpose. After the promise to Olivia, you and Steve began returning to the orphanage as often as you could, every other day, just as you’d said you would. It wasn’t always easy to make time for those visits, but seeing Olivia’s face light up the moment she saw you both made everything worth it.

Each visit began to feel like part of your routine. The orphanage became a second home of sorts. You and Steve would walk through the doors, already expecting to be met by the eager eyes of the other children. But it was Olivia who always sought you out first, her face breaking into a wide, joyful smile the moment she spotted you.

“Y/n! Steve!” she would call, running to meet you with her arms wide open. The joy in her voice was unmistakable, the sparkle in her eyes shining as brightly as the Christmas lights still twinkling above the doors.

Every time you saw her, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. She was growing more comfortable with you both, more trusting. You would spend hours with her, building towers, drawing pictures, playing with the toys you’d brought, anything that made her happy. And in return, her love for you both seemed to deepen with each passing visit.

There was something undeniably special about Olivia—something that pulled you in every time you saw her. The way she would snuggle into your arms for comfort, the way she’d tug on Steve’s sleeve when she needed help, and the way her face would light up when either of you showed her affection. She had an innocence that you couldn’t help but protect, something about her that made you feel like she deserved all the love the world could give.

One afternoon, as you and Steve walked into the orphanage, you immediately spotted Olivia sitting on the floor, playing with a puzzle. She looked up when she heard your footsteps, and her face broke into a delighted grin.

“Y/n! Steve!” she called excitedly, rushing over to you both. Her little arms stretched wide, and you both knelt down to meet her, your arms open as she threw herself into your embrace.

It had become a comforting routine. Every time you walked in, the other children would eagerly welcome you, but it was always Olivia who seemed to run to you the fastest, her need for connection clear.

You and Steve made it a point to always be there, every other day. Sometimes, you’d bring toys, other times you’d just spend time with her—drawing, building things, or even just sitting and watching her play. It felt like the more time you spent with her, the more you understood her. The more you could see the layers of hurt and fear in her small eyes, but also the joy and hope that began to bloom in her as she spent time with you.

She had learned to trust you. And you had learned to love her.

One of those days, after spending the afternoon together, you and Steve walked with Olivia as she held your hand tightly, her small fingers curling around yours with a confidence she hadn’t had when you first met her.

“Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?” you asked her gently, your voice soft as you knelt down beside her.

She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up. “Home!” she repeated, the word a simple declaration that seemed to hold all the hopes and dreams of a little girl who had never truly known what it was like to have a place to call her own.

And in that moment, it hit you—the weight of it all. The idea that Olivia was waiting for someone to take her home. To give her a real family. You hadn’t expected it, but you had grown attached to her, deeply and irrevocably. The thought of her leaving the orphanage, of her being taken away by someone else, made your heart ache in a way you didn’t fully understand.

You looked at Steve, your heart in your throat. He was watching Olivia too, his eyes filled with the same love and tenderness that you felt for her.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your hand brushing against his.

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Olivia. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t know. I feel like we’re doing the right thing. Being here for her.”

You didn’t need to say anything more. You both knew what you meant.

The visits continued. Every other day, you found yourselves back in that small, brightly lit room with Olivia, spending hours just playing and talking with her. She was growing so much, and you could see the progress in her. She had become more confident, more comfortable. And every time you saw her face light up with that smile, you couldn’t help but think about her future.

As the weeks passed, you and Steve found yourselves more and more immersed in the routine of visiting Olivia. The orphanage had become a place of warmth and hope. You both began to talk about her future more—what she needed, what she deserved. You both had formed such a deep bond with her, and yet there was a nagging feeling, a longing, that neither of you could ignore.

One evening, as the winter air settled over Brooklyn and the two of you sat on the couch in your apartment, a quiet moment of stillness passed between you. The Christmas lights twinkled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow across the room.

Steve was the first to break the silence.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice low and contemplative, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Olivia lately.”

You turned your head to look at him, your heart beating a little faster. His eyes were filled with the same seriousness that you’d seen before, but this time, there was something else there—an undercurrent of hope, a quiet kind of yearning.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot too. I think about her every day.”

Steve took a deep breath, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. “What do you think about… about becoming her parents?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you weren’t sure you heard him right. You looked at him, trying to read his face, searching for any sign that this wasn’t what it sounded like.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean… adopting her,” Steve said, his words slow but firm. “I can’t stop thinking about how much she needs us. How much she needs love. And I want to give that to her. I want to give her a family. I want to be her father. And I know… I know you’ve felt the same way about her.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. You had thought about it too, many times, but the reality of it, of truly becoming her parents, seemed so overwhelming. There were so many things to consider, so many uncertainties. But the thought of it—of giving Olivia a family, of offering her a real home—made your heart swell with an emotion you couldn’t describe.

“I… I do,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I love her, Steve. I love her like she’s my own. I just didn’t know if we could actually do it.”

Steve’s expression softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours. “I know it’s a big step. But I think we can do it. Together. We’ve already built such a bond with her. She trusts us. She’s already looking to us for that love and security. We can give her that. We can be her family.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him. You never imagined that this was where your life would lead—to a point where you could offer a child the one thing she needed most: love and stability. And yet, as you looked at Steve, you realized that it was the one thing you both were ready for. To build a life together, with Olivia at the center of it all.

“I want to do it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want to give her everything. I want to adopt her. I want to be her mom.”

Steve’s face lit up with the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of finality. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice soft, full of love and relief.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. “I’m sure, Steve.”

And in that moment, as you held each other close, everything else faded away. The doubts, the fears—they didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was the love you both had for Olivia, and the life you were about to build together.

“Yes,” you said again, more firmly this time. “I want to adopt Olivia.”

Steve pulled back, his eyes shining with happiness and gratitude. “We’re going to be her parents. I can’t wait to give her the family she deserves.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart full of hope. This was the beginning of something beautiful, something real. A family, a future—together. And you knew, with all your heart, that this was just the beginning of the rest of your lives.

[aggieharkness]

Masterlist

Avis Amberg

Have I earned it, mother? (wip) (smut)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Lilia Calderu

The world is perfect when I'm with you (fluff)

Agatha Harkness

Thirsty for more than blood (smut)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Lily of the Valley (on standby) (family/comfort)

Part 1

Part 2

If it comes down to one of us, I’ll always choose you. (angst/comfort)

Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch

I'll see you in a minute (angst/comfort)

If any of you would like to request a character or a story, please, don't hesitate to send me a DM or an ask. I would love to write for you. As of right now, I have a preference for Patti Lupone in any of her characters, but I would not mind writing Agatha at all. I'm good with smut, fluff, you name it, whatever makes you people happy.

[jazeswhbhaven]

I couldn't help myself I wanted to write something about this....(credit to @bakdbfi for the screenshot)

(soft, vanilla, passionate sex, serious!Asmodeus, GN!Reader)

When you arrived at the designated cabin in the dense forest and mountains on Earth, the snow quietly falling, the chill air nipping at your nose...you had no idea what Asmodeus was thinking inviting you so suddenly.

Stepping into the cabin, it's warm, the scent of smoky wood and cinnamon greeting you like a blanket of comfort. Your mind was set at ease, despite the location being in the middle of nowhere and the usual antics of the devil you met in Hell. What could he really be planning?

As you take off your boots you see a trail of rose petals on the floor, leading you to the back of the cabin where you're certain the bedroom is located. This seems...out of character for him, right? You're normally met with the usual in your face, cock out, flirty intensity where you swear he was in heat by the way he drooled at the sight of you.

Not tonight. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. You weren't sure if you should be worried, but you walk the path set before you. When you reach the bedroom it's even more cozy than the living room. Warm lights, a thick and fluffy bed with plenty of pillows and blankets, a small fireplace with the sounds of crackling and pops of burning wood. The window though covered with sheer curtains, giving you a romantic view of the snow covered pines. It was perfect in every sense of the word and your comfort levels were more than relaxed.

"I can tell by your body language, that you love it."

Large, soft hands reach over your shoulders and down your collarbones as Asmodeus whispers tenderly in your ear.

"I said I'd make this a wonderful memory, though I'm sorry I couldn't give the full experience of putting the little ones to bed."

Your first reaction is soft laughter, realizing that his text to you on Christmas was serious now that the two of you were here. This was the only time he could get you alone and away from the other Kings, but you assumed it was just another quick dick appointment.

However, right now he wasn't laughing with you, or saying his usual overly sexual comments that made you cringe. In fact, he was peppering kisses on your neck, gently massaging your chest and tugging at your sweater.

"Get in the bed, please?"

It shouldn't have made you shiver, but it did. While it was a request, the hint of controlled restraint in his voice had you realize he was struggling to be patient in your presence. If he could do that, then it must meant this was serious. You couldn't help but oblige. Though, you didn't have to be told to remove your clothing because you knew what was going to happen in this room. He made that abundantly clear.

You crawl into the thick blankets, soft to the touch and luxurious in quality. Everything is off your body, well aside from your underwear. Asmodeus smiles, crawling after you and picking up your leg to kiss your ankle up to your calf. As he holds your foot against his cheek he looks at you lovingly, taking in the sight of you before he speaks again.

"I said I was going to make love to you, and I mean it..."

Your breath hitches as he pulls you forward, one leg propped up as he easily slides off the only garment left. He groans softly when he sees how ready you are, your sensitive parts swollen, glistening with arousal that had been building since he started kissing your neck.

He taps your hips, giving you the signal to flip over on your stomach. The moment you do, he bends down, his tongue sliding over your hole as he eats you out from the back. You arch your hips, the sudden sensation driving you wild. Between the flicks and kisses of his lips and tongue you're already a mess of pleasure and he keeps at it for a few moments, until he changes your position again.

You're on your back again, legs spread as he goes back down to continue running his tongue against your parts like he was starving. You could feel just how wet and slick his lips were, how his tongue dipped in and out of you as you try not to clench so early or it would send you past your peak. But he doesn't care, repeatedly hitting the same spot over and over until you come, the first of many the night would bring.

He changes your position once again, not done with you just yet. having your back rest against his chest, your head titled up to meet his gaze as he leans down to capture your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. In the meanwhile, his long and slender fingers plunge into your quivering hole, pumping and curved against that sweet spot deep inside that he knew so well. He was slow, intentional and considerate, speeding up when you whimpered, slowing down when you were more focused on intertwining your tongue with his. He didn't stop until you gasped, moaning into his mouth to indicate another orgasm.

"I think you're ready for me, my love..."

With a soft smile and kiss on your forehead, he pushes you down face forward on the comforter, the part that wasn't covered in your fluids. He carefully brings up your hips, pressing the tip of his cock at your entrance as you wiggle against him to wordlessly beg for it. He gives you a playfully smack on the thigh, sliding into you, making sure every inch is felt.

His thrusts aren't like how they usual are, each stroke deep, with care his hips rolling and grinding like a sensual dance. There was even a point where he leaned over to kiss your back as he pressed further and stayed there just for a moment. You wish he'd stayed there forever as you cockwarmed him but he moves again which has you whimpering and moaning back to back.

"I want to see your face..."

The position changes again, both of your legs pressed back and your hips spread. All the time you'd hear about the "mating press" position and Asmodeus took this to heart. As he locked eyes with you, you swore he was thrusting into you so deeply that your insides were being rearranged. He'd lean down to take your lips again, the same deep-seated strokes that brought you to climax more times you could count.

It was like this all night, each position he'd switch you to was close, your body never leaving the comfort of his own if he could help it. There was a point when you were on your stomach again, but both of your arms were pinned against your back as he went wild, losing himself in the moment. The amount of times he had came were irrelevant to you because you were too drunk in your own ecstasy to notice.

It was only until the sun was shining through the window, your face against his chest as the two of you slept did you realize the night was over. You don't move, but your eyes look up at your lover surprised to see that he was asleep and not awake. He was mumbling in his sleep pulling you closer to him with no intent of letting go. And you had no intention of getting up either, your body and your energy spent with the lingering soreness of making love for hours. You didn't know how long he'd keep this up, but the change of pace made your heart full. Maybe, just maybe, you could do this forever.

[starlightandfairies]

Okay, first of all, sorry for my bad English, but could you maybe write a story with Kalus where you are all together (his siblings and Elena, Damon, Stefan etc.) in a room and spend time together, or rather solve another problem. Klaus notices how absent you are and how quiet you are the whole time. And later you disappear to a quiet place where you can be alone but then he shows up? The story need to be sweet😪

Description: gets overwhelmed and needs some time to relax

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view, f/ice/c

Word Count: 1,013

First Person's pov

Everyone was here. Bonnie, Elena, Damon, Enzo, Stefan, Elijah, Rebekah, Caroline and Niklaus. My house was normally the meeting place, today was no different. I couldn't tell you what the issue was this time, I've been out of it for the past week. It's been hard, at the start of the week, I nearly got badly hurt while the next big-bad came along and after Stefan saved my butt, I got reprimanded by him for being so reckless and stupid. 

 I hated being yelled at or being near someone being yelled at. Ever since I was little, I've hated loud noises, so that incident at the start of the week just became a series of things building on top of each other. It was late, I was already overwhelmed and overstimulated, everyone was shouting at each other, demanding they be heard and that they were right. 

"Dammit Damon! You cannot just expect us all to run around your agenda!" 

"What else can we do?" Damon roared, I stared at my hands in my lap, fiddling with the skirt of my dress. I could feel Niklaus' eyes on me, they have been for the last little while, I have no clue what he was thinking or what he wanted but having him look at me, analysing me and my every move. 

"Love, are you alright?" Niklaus softly murmured, I simply hummed in response, not meeting his eye or the disapproving hum that came from his lips. Everyone kept yelling, hitting my furniture in frustration, I could feel the tears bubbling and the prickling in my throat, If I didn't get away now then I'd breakdown in front of everyone. 

While everyone was gathering around the table, writing out a plan for stopping this big bad, I slipped away and sat in my bedroom. I let out a shaky breath, letting the tears slip from my eyes and sobbed into my hands. I curled into my mattress, clutching my teddy bear to my chest and hoping all the chatter in my brain would fade away. 

"So, this is the great Y/n L/n's bedroom." I sat up, rubbing my eyes, watching as Niklaus sat on the edge of my bed and turned to face me. I took a deep breath, pushing myself up and rested my teddy bear in my lap, watching him as he gazed around my room before his eyes landing me again. 

"I am going to ask again... love. Are you alright?" His voice was smooth, gentle and even caring. On any normal day I could listen to him talk for hours on end, he had such a pretty voice. 

"No... no, I'm not alright." 

"Tell me what's wrong, love." It was a gentle demand, something I wouldn't fight against. 

"I've just been feeling very overwhelmed and overstimulated. Got too much." Niklaus simply nodded, took my hand into his and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. Niklaus hummed, his face scrunching up in thought before it relaxed and his eyes gazed upon me soothingly. 

"I will kick them out from your home. They can take this to the Salvatore manor." 

"Thank you." He nodded and looked at my teddy bear. 

"What is this lovely thing's name?" I was grateful for the distraction, clutching to the arms of the bear a little tighter and smiled. 

"Her name is Pebbles. I got her when I was a baby. I know it's silly... not being a kid anymore and having a teddy bear still." Niklaus shrugged, seemingly not bothered by this. 

"Does it bring you comfort?" I nodded. 

"Then why should it matter?" 

"I suppose you are right, Niklaus." He chuckled once I said his name, I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my own smile at bay from his sweet laughter. 

"You always call me Niklaus. I don't think I have ever heard you call me Klaus."

"I like calling you Niklaus. It sounds nice, it just rolls off the tongue." He chuckled nodding, turning his body to face me better. I took another breath, finding the uneasy feeling fading away the longer I sat in Niklaus' presence. It was quiet up here, I could just here the others and every time I would react to the group becoming more vocal, Niklaus would bring my attention back to him by asking about something in my room. 

My cat walked into the room, jumping onto Niklaus' lap, curling into him and hitting his hands with her paw to get him to pet her. 

"She's a sweet thing, I'm sorry, I'll call her off." 

"It's okay, I do not mind, your cat and you are quite welcome to my lovely presence and comfort whenever." I chuckled at the light sound of arrogance in his voice. He continued petting my cat for a little while until she jumped off and he took that as his moment to stand up and held out his hand. 

"Y/n, I think you need some time away from these headaches. Do you trust me?" I nodded, I really did, not once had Niklaus used me for his gain, he hadn't betrayed my trust once and I don't believe he ever would. 

"Yeah, okay." He picked me up, then sped out my window. Niklaus took me to a look-out in a couple towns over, it overlooked the water and no one else was nearby. The water brushed up against the rocks, soothing and peaceful. Within a blink he disappeared and within another he had a cup full of f/ice/c. 

"Thank you. Y-you didn't need to do this."  "You are feeling down, a sweet treat can always help. As I am told." I took small spoonfuls of the ice cream and started swaying to the gentleness of the violin. 

"You know my favourite ice cream, my favourite instrument and my favourite song. How?"  

"I have my ways, love." He whispers, letting me bask in the peace of the music. 

[roonotrue]

Day 2 - Snowmen & Snow Angels with Kalim!

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Prologue, Day 1

Prompt: When Kalim hears about Christmas from Lilia and Cater during a Pop Music Club meeting, he is so excited by the idea he goes to ask you more about the holiday- but he runs into your group of morons friends and they decide to recruit him to help distract you while the freshies enact their plan, now referred to as Operation 'Christmas Miracle!'

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and reader is called 'MC/Prefect.'

Included Characters: Kalim Al-Asim

Warnings: Mild Swearing.

AN: I should clarify that these are all alternate version stories, not some harem shit (not that anything's wrong with that). These are just different versions of the freshies finding one other person to help with their plan by distracting the MC aka you. Also, this series will continue until it's complete even if it bleeds into January so don't worry about it being discontinued or anything. I'm doing the full 12 days y'all.

~~~

"You... Want to go build snowmen?" You raise a brow at Kalim's cheerful words.

You just opened the door to Ramshackle, expecting one of your usual troublemakers to be the one frantically knocking at your door.

You even mentally bet money on it being Ace needing a place to crash to escape Riddle or something.

So you were decently surprised to see the radiant ray of sunshine that is the Scarabia Housewarden standing outside your door. Dressed in multiple thick maroon and gold layers of expensive-looking winter coats, thick white wool mittens, and a white and gold knit hat with a puff ball on top of it, he's also carrying a black and maroon backpack with the Scarabia dorm symbol on it.

All of this, you're sure, is due to Jamil being overly cautious so the young heir doesn't get sick. Then again, you've seen Jamil a few times too, and he was bundled up similarly. He told you they're not too used to snow in the Scalding Sands.

Who would've guessed?

"Yep! It'll be fun! We can make some at the main street so everybody will see them as they pass by!" Well, anything with Kalim is usually fun- mildly terrifying at times, but fun.

"Does Jamil know you're here?" It is the first question you need answered.

The last thing you want is a lecture from Jamil for playing in the snow with Kalim when he's meant to be doing something important.

"Of course! He wanted to come along, but I told him I just wanted it to be a 'me and you' thing, you know?" He says so sweetly, the words running through your heart like an arrow to your chest.

How could you possibly say no to him?

A cold wind runs past Kalim into the open doorway, and you shiver. You're still in your PJs, not really expecting to go out today since classes were canceled because of all the snow the night before.

"Uh, why don't you come inside Kalim? I've got to go get ready and it's freezing so I don't want to leave you waiting out here for me." You remark, beckoning him inside.

"So you'll come with me!? That's great! We can build the biggest snowman ever! And we can have a snowball fight, and-" He lists as he walks inside setting his bag down by the door.

"Slow down Kalim! Let's stick with snowmen for now and see how the day develops. Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna go get ready, and tell Grim where I'm going." You smile, motioning to the couch as you head up the stairs towards you and Grim's shared room.

"Okay! I'll be waiting!"

When you get upstairs, Grim is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, with a big yawn that pins his ears to his head. You struggle not to coo at him like he's a normal kitten.

"Who was at the door, henchhuman?" He asks as you shuffle through your closet.

"Kalim, he wants to go out and build snowmen, will you be fine on your own for a while?" You ask, and Grim suddenly jumps up.

"He's here already!?" The little outburst startles you and you turn away from the closet to look at him.

"You knew he was coming over?" You ask and Grim suddenly looks nervous.

"Uuuh- he mentioned coming over yesterday, didn't he? You were right there when he did!" Grim laughs nervously, and you narrow your eyes.

That definitely didn't happen. Grim has been acting odd the last two weeks, sneaking off, avoiding you, and blatantly lying.

You have half a mind to have cornered him days ago and demand answers, but the odd thing is- all your other friends are acting the same.

And so you're curious. They're planning something. Something they clearly don't want you to know about. Something that you will definitely get dragged into one way or another.

You want to confront them all before that happens, but you can never pin them all down in the same room- like rats they seem to scatter the second they see you approaching. So it's something big.

"Hmm. So will you be fine or not?" You repeat and turn back to the closet.

You'll let it go right now since Kalim is waiting downstairs, but you're interrogating him once you get home.

"Yeah! I'll be great! Just leave me a can of tuna, got it!" He smiles, and you duck away into the bathroom to change into your school uniform, and the winter coat Crewel had to scold Crowley into getting you.

"Got it, I'll leave it on the kitchen counter for you." You smile to yourself and head back downstairs.

"Okay, you ready to go, Kalim?" You ask as you get downstairs looking around the living area, where he's happily shuffling through his bag.

"Yep! And I remembered Jamil wanted me to give this to you!" He smiles as he holds up a folded piece of paper.

"Oh?" You tilt your head, curious, and grab the note, carefully unfolding it, you see Jamil's neat handwriting.

MC, Make sure he's back by nightfall- seriously. If I have to stop and take time away from frantically deep cleaning the dorm before winter break to come looking for him, I will overblot again.

That said, don't let him come back before nightfall either please. It's easier to clean when he's not here. Thank you.

Also - I packed you both hot tea in a thermos, and lunch.

I trust you to keep Kalim from doing anything stupid. Have fun.

- Jamil

"Ah. Okay. He hopes we have fun!" You decide to keep the rest to yourself, smiling as you tuck the note into your pocket.

"Aw, that's nice of him! Next time I'll be sure to bring him and we can all have fun!" Oh, you're certain he'll hate that, but that's a future problem for future you.

"Well, we'll see, I'm not to sure Jamil likes the cold that much." You nervously stutter out the white lie, leading the way to Ramshackles entrance.

"Really? I like how different it is from the heat of the Scalding Sands and Scarabia dorm! The snow is so pretty, and everything looks so different when it covers the campus!" He declares, even as he shivers from the cold air rushing in when you open the front door.

"It is, but I don't reckon it's the snow Jamil doesn't like, Kalim, just the cold." You laugh, subconsciously reaching out and fixing the others scarf, making sure it's tied properly.

"Hmm, yeah, I can see why he might not like it, we're not used to this kind of cold after all. But I'm kind of getting used to it! If I just keep spending time outside everyday, then eventually it won't bother me anymore!" He adjusts his mittens as he speaks, and you chuckle once more.

"Just don't stay out too long, or you'll get sick. So what are you planning on doing over winter break?" You ask and he lights up as you ask.

The two of you walk side by side towards the main street of NRC, you can see the condensation of your breath puffing up in the icy air as you talk, and he tells you all about his plans.

"Well, Jamil really wants me to focus on studying over break and getting the homework done- and since everything that happened last winter break, I'm really trying to do as he asks more to make things easier for him- but it's so hard! How can I sit still and study when I could be having fun with my family?" He sighs and you cringe a bit.

"It's good that you love your family so much and want to have fun with them, but it's important to study. You have to set a good example for your younger siblings right? And all the students in your dorm. If they see that you're not working hard in school, they won't either." You tell him, and he makes that funny face he makes.

When his face scrunches up in thought, brows furrowed, eyes cast down, a slight pout on his lips.

It's adorable.

"You're right, I know, it's just so hard to focus sometimes."

If you were in your world you would tell him he should get tested for ADHD, but you've learned that Twisted Wonderland really doesn't have much mental health awareness let alone care.

This school would have a lot less problems if it did.

"Well, I know a few tips and tricks. Maybe you can stop by again before winter break and I can give you some." You tell him and he smiles, bright as the sun.

"Really? I'd love that!" As to how the entirety of NRC doesn't thaw from his warm presence alone is a wonder.

"Yeah, really. You can bring Jamil too, that way I can show him a few tricks on how to help you if you need him to." A solid idea.

You knew a few people with ADHD and other problems that made it hard for them to focus back in your old world- hell, a large majority of the population had trouble with their attention span. So by proximity, you know a lot of things that may help him.

And a lot of things that will help Jamil help him.

"Oh... Does Jamil really have to be there? You could just write it down for him." Kalim suggests with a nervous smile that doesn't at all feel natural or right for him.

"Why don't you want him there? You just mentioned wanting him to come out for a snow day with us sometime." You tilt your head curiously, and Kalim rubs his arm sheepishly.

"Well, I do, it'd be nice if he could have fun with us, but I also like spending time with you when it's just the two of us? That's pretty selfish though, isn't it? I mean, you're so fun, and amazing, and supportive, it's not fair to want to hog all your attention, but..." He goes quiet his gaze falling to the ground, an uncertain, guilty look in his eyes that makes your heart clench painfully.

"Oh, Kalim, that's not selfish at all. It's okay to not want to hang out with a whole group of people all the time. We can hang out just the two of us whenever you want- well, so long as I'm not busy." You assure him with a gentle smile just as you two reach the main street.

"That would be amazing, MC! We should hang out tomorrow then! And the day after that! And this weekend! And-" Well... At least he's got that smile you love so much back.

"Okay, okay, why don't we just focus on today? And we can make arrangements for tomorrow later." You giggle, fucking giggle, the seven help you, you are down bad.

"Okay- so... How exactly do you make a snowman?" He asks, a thoughtful hand on his chin as he looks at the snowy area in front of you both.

You're not far from the statues of the seven, a perfect spot to build some snowmen where everyone who passes will see them.

"Well, we've got to start with the base- we just make a simple snowball, and then make it bigger and bigger until we roll it around on the ground, and it's big enough to support the middle and head of the snowman." You explain, ducking down and gathering some snow in your hands and making a snowball.

Kalim mimics your movement.

"So, Cater was telling me about this Christmas holiday you have in your world, and it made em wonder about what other holidays you have that Twisted Wonderland doesn't- if you don't mind me asking?"  Kalim asks as you both reach the point of rolling the snowballs on the ground.

"Oh, I don't mind at all... Well, you guys have a few holidays that are similar to the ones in my world- like Halloween, we have that in my world- you can stop there with that one, Kalim, we'll make that the body." You motion for him to stop rolling the snowball.

"Really? What do you usually dress up as? Scarabia dressed as kitsune- that has to be my favorite costume so far." He asks, a silly smile on his face that makes your chest flutter.

You two spend the next fifteen minutes talking about your Halloween experiences in your world, and what your costumes were, etc. Kalim tells you about his younger siblings about how one year, three of them decided to dress as ghosts with sheets over their heads, and he nor his parents could tell them apart as they were running around their home.

It's sweet, and you'd love to meet some of them one day. Though you're going to have to have a serious talk with Jamil about which of Kalim's siblings you need to avoid like the fucking plague.

"Okay, so these should all be good, now we have to stack 'em! Here, the middle one you rolled, can put it on the big one." You direct and he listens, focusing entirely on carefully lifting the large snowball and placing on top the even larger one.

Once he does, you place the smallest snowball on top.

"And there's the head. Now we decorate! I'm sure there's some sticks around here that we can use for the arms, and rocks for the eyes, mouth, and buttons." You look around on the ground- and Kalim follows your lead.

"Oh, here! Will this work for one arm?" He holds up a rather large stick that would make a decent arm you suppose.

"Yeah, we just gotta find another one like it. You look for that, and I'll find some stones." You tell him and go about looking around on the main street itself.

The stone path has some loose pebbles scattered about that you certain no one will miss, so you go about collecting the larger ones to act as your snowman's face and buttons.

You almost wish you'd stopped by Mr. S's for a carrot. But alas, you'll stick with a plain old rock for a nose.

Onc you fill your pockets with a handful of ideal rocks, you head back to the snowman to find Kalim looking really hard at two sticks on the ground.

"Didja' find another stick?" You ask, making your way next to him, breaking him out of his thoughts, he flashes you a bright smile.

"Yep! But it's way smaller- so I was thinking we should break the other one to make it smaller to right?" He says and you look at the sticks.

"Hm. Or we can use them as they are? It'd be kinda funny having a snowman with wonky arms." You chuckle at the mental image, and Kalim is quick to agree with you.

"You're right, it would! And it'll make people laugh on there way to class these last few days before break!" He picks up the sticks and hands you one, and you in turn hand him a handful of rocks.

"For his face- I'll let you do that bit, and I'll do the buttons."

It doesn't take long to give your snowman all his features, with Kalim dedicating extra time to it's large smile.

"Did you make snowmen a lot in your world?" He asks as you both back up to look at your work.

"Hm, a few times, yeah. I liked making snow angels too." You sigh wistfully, and turn to find Kalim's eyes on you.

Studying your face with a curious expression for a long moment before his eyes actually meet yours, and he looks almost startled out of... Whatever he was doing/thinking.

"What's a snow angel?" He asks, and you smile.

"I'll show you- over here." You waltz a little ways away from you two's snowman and turn to face Kalim head on.

"Step one, spread your arms out!" You show him, pointing your arms directly out on either side of you.

"Step two, fall!" You laugh as you let yourself fall back.

"Ah! MC!" Kalim shouts, startled by your actions, you even see him reach out to try and catch you.

When you hit the ground, the the soft thicker blanket of snow on the ground here softens the blow enough that there's not an ounce of pain. Just cold, creeping in through the cheap fabric of your coat.

But it's not that bad, so you press on.

"I'm fine, Kalim, it's part of the process! Now step three, swing your arms and legs back and forth like this!" You show him and he looks on with wide curious eyes.

Completely fascinated by whatever it is you're doing.

"And then, you get up real carefully- ah- can you help?" You sit up, and reach out to him, not wanting to put your hands down and ruin it.

"Of course!" He grabs both of your outstretched hands and yanks you up.

A tad to forcefully as you lift up off the ground you're pulled forward to much and tumble into him.

The first thing you note, is that he radiates warmth. The second thing you note, is that you're so close that every time you breath, your noses lightly brush together. His eyes are trained on yours wide with shock.

"Ah! I'm sorry- are you okay, MC!?" He asks, stepping back, you laugh, trying to will away the blush on your face.

"I'm fine, Kalim, uh- look! The final product! That's a snow angel." You turn away, making a ta-da motion towards your imprint on in the snow.

A perfect snow angel.

"Oh! It's like a lady with wings! A bird beastman?" He asks, his attention successfully redirected to the snow.

"Well, we don't exactly have those in my word, but we do have stories about human-like beings with wings, that act as guardians for human, watching over us and stuff. A lot of people believe their real, a lot don't. Either way, they're real fun to make." You explain, brushing the snow off the back of your coat and head as best as you can.

"It sure looked fun! I want to try! I just spread my arms like this, right?" He copy's your previous motions, a foot away from your snow angel.

"Yeah, just like that- make sure the snow is deep enough to catch your fall without hurting." You warn him and he nods looking back to assess and then letting himself fall just as you did.

He laughs as he plops into the snow, and swings his arms and legs back and forth.

You help him up just as he did you- though a bit more carefully, and admire his work.

"Perfect! A top tear snow angel. You're a professional, Kalim." You compliment with a wink, and he scratches the back of his head with a bright smile.

"Thanks! You're a great teacher! We should make more! Oh, and another snowman! So the one won't get lonely!" He suggests and you really do start to feel like a kid again as you both run around plopping into the snow, making snow angels.

And you end up making a few more snowmen- having to go out of your way and leave to find more sticks out by the Botanical Garden, stopping every so often when you find a good spot to make another snow angel.

You pass by several students during this who look at you both like you're crazy- but you really can't find it in your heart to care.

Not when Kalim is looking at you with that radiant smile, and his laughter is ringing in your ears like music.

"We should stop and warm up inside the garden for a bit Kalim, maybe have some of that tea and lunch Jamil packed us." You remark, flexing your fingers as they grow numb.

"Yeah, I am getting pretty hungry..." He trails off as you both enter the garden- the warmth immediately surrounding you both.

You shrug off your jacket and move to sit at one of the benches nearby, and Kalim follows, pulling his backpack off and in front of him to unzip and grab your lunches.

"Jamil made us some grilled sandwiches, is that okay?" He hands you a container with yours and you smile assuring.

"Of course it is."

You two enjoy a long moment of silence, enjoying your food, tea, and the warmth around you before Kalim speaks up again.

"You know, I've never wanted to hang out with people alone before." he says suddenly and you look up at him curiously.

"Ah- or well, what I mean, is that I never mind it when others join us. The more the merrier you know? I've never had the feeling of truly wanting to just... Hang out with one person and no one else before." He elaborates, and turns to meet your gaze.

"I don't really understand why, but it makes me really happy, doing fun stuff just with you, building snowmen, making snow angels, and even just eating lunch together... I'd like to do fun stuff like this with you all the time, if that's okay with you?" He asks, a little bashfully, head tilted down with a gentle, nervous smile.

"Kalim..." You murmur his name, thoughts suddenly very uncertain.

Yet your face flushes when he glances up at your voice, eyes meeting yours in a hopeful bloom of poinsettia red.

From the very day you met him- despite a lot of the initial poor circumstances, Kalim has always been one of the friendliest faces at NRC. Always happy to see you, always the first to go out of his way to try and help you, and always the first person you look for in the hallways when you need cheering up, or just to see his perfect, radiant smile.

"You, uh, might wanna be careful there, you might make me think you're asking me on a date." You chuckle nervously, rubbing at the back of your neck as you turn away.

Your face feels hot and you're really starting to miss the cold outside.

Kalim is silent for a long moment, such a long moment that it makes you glance back at him.

He's wearing a wide eyed expression, mouth slightly agape, as a flush paints his face. There is a slow creeping emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place, that leads them to dart around your face- looking for something maybe?

But then he meets your gaze directly and lets out a small gasp of realization.

End then he's tumbling forward out of his seat to grab at your upper arms.

"Ah! Kalim-"

"That exactly what I want!" He shouts and a wide smile back on his face, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"Huh?" Not the most eloquent response, but you're completely dumbfounded by the suddenness of... All of this.

If you weren't flushed before, you certainly are now, eyes wide, and jaw on the floor.

"I want to date you, MC! You're amazing, and smart, and kind, and fun, and-" He says with a brilliant smile, listing off the compliments like they're the most obvious things in the world.

"K-Kalim! Slow down, this is-" Everything you could have wanted. Wrapped up in a sparkling bow, with a gift tag that says 'to good to be true.'

"You don't mean that- I know we're good friends-" He's said it so many times, there's a permanent dent in your heart where the words are hammered in.

"Of course I mean it! MC, you're wonderful, and I wanna be able to hug you, and kiss you, and take you out on dates, and magic carpet rides so we can look at the stars together!" He interrupts you, eyes blazing with determination.

Oh geez, he's really serious about this, huh?

By the seven, of course Kalim would only realize he liked you when you pointed it out directly. He's just like that- not really understanding things unless you say them outright. He can't take a hint for the life of him.

"Please, MC? I promise I'll be the best boyfriend ever! And we'll go on the best dates! And we'll make snowmen and snow angels ever single winter!" He continues, grabbing your hands into his.

You note just how warm they are- or maybe yours are just still cold, but with how warm it is in the garden you doubt that.

It's just Kalim.

Warm, radiant, fun, and joyful Kalim.

You stare at your interlocked hands for a long, long moment as Kalim waits for your response, lost in a sea of emotion.

He likes you. He really, actually likes you.

"MC?" He squeezes you hands tighter, pulling your gaze back up to him.

"Kalim, you are so oblivious it's painful at times- of course I'll date you!" You smile, and watching as his whole face lights up like fireworks is a beautiful sight.

You laugh as he jumps forward, pulling you into a tight hug that you gladly return.

"Really? Thank you, MC! You won't regret it, I promise!" He vows and you pat his back gentle.

"I know I won't. Now we should get back to the snowmen, they probably look pretty silly just standing out there with no arms." You chuckle and Kalim pulls back.

"Yeah, you're probably right. You're always right." He sighs wistfully and you hold back an eyeroll, a smile permanently stuck to your face.

You both pack up pretty quickly, with Kalim pausing to look at you several times for long moments with a dopey smile on his face, before turning back to putting things back in his bag and putting his gloves and scarf back on.

When you two head back outside, the cold takes a moment to adjust to, and in the corner of your eye you can see Kalim try and pull his scarf tighter.

"Here, let me-" You move forward, grabbing his scarf, undoing it, and then tying it properly around his neck so it keeps him warm and stays in place.

It's a quiet moment, suspiciously so, and when you look back to the white haired boy his scarlet eyes are staring at you intensely.

You both are a lot closer then you thought, and you can see the fog of his breath mixing with yours.

"Kalim?" You ask, leaning further forward almost subconsciously, and his hands come to rest at your sides.

"Can I kiss you, MC? Please?" He asks, in a low whisper, and you give a gentle nod.

When your lips connect it's almost scalding how warm he is. But even more notably, he's so gentle.

Like he's nervous.

So you take the initiative. Pulling him closer by his scarf, and kissing him deeper, you feel him smile into the kiss, and you can't help but smile to as you pull back, but not far.

You noses still brushing together, Kalim giggles, his breath warm on your face.

"Can I do that again?" He asks, and you chuckle.

"Well, we're dating now, so you can do it whenever you want." You inform him and he jumps forward, holding you tightly as he kisses you, quick sweet pecks, over and over. Mostly on your lips, some on your cheeks and nose.

"K-Kalim!" You stutter between laughs and kisses.

"I can hug you too whenever I want, right? And come visit you, and get you gifts, and-" He starts listing and you have to put a cold hand over his mouth to pause him.

"Yes, yes, and only every once in awhile. I don't want Ramshackle overflowing with a sea of lavish gifts, Kalim. I don't need any gifts really. I just like being with you, that's enough for me." You tell him and he smiles, but it turns to a slight pout after a moment.

"Are you sure? You deserve nice things, and Jamil tells me you don't have many in Ramshackle." He asks, and you roll your eyes.

"I have what matters, Kalim. A roof over my head, clothes on my back, edible food, and okay roommates. Having an amazing boyfriend is the cherry on top. I'm not a fancy or extravagant person, Kalim, so please, don't go getting me anything extravagant." You tell him, and he sighs in defeat.

"Okay... I can get you a few things, right? Like flowers, and jewelry, and pretty clothes-"

"Flowers. You can get me flowers, and maybe some of those other things on special occasions only." You tell him firmly, even if there's still a smile on your face.

"Okay, I can do that! You have to tell me all your favorite flowers!" He asks (demands?) and you let out a gentle laugh, pulling away, grabbing his hand to hold as you both walk back to your snowmen.

You list some of your favorite flowers, up until you get back to the snowmen, and finish them off with their stick arms.

"There! They look great." You comment, backing up to admire the finished product.

Surrounded by snow angels all over the snowy ground, the snowmen actually look quite nice.

"Hm, we should get them some clothes- scarfs and hats, you know?" Kalim says from beside you.

"Hm, maybe we can swing by Sam's later and get some cheap ones, but I think we ought to call it a day, Grim will be wondering where I am by now." You check the time on your phone, seeing it's nearing early evening.

"H-huh? But we should go now so they don't get cold!" Kalim stumbles out, rushing to stand in front of you.

He has that panicked look in his eyes.

"... Kalim, they're made of snow." You say we an amused smirk and a raised brow.

"I- I know, but... Um, I wanna spend more time with you..." He comments, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen, and you let out an defeated huff.

How can you say no to that face?

"Alright. But we gotta be finished by sunset, got it?" You sigh, and Kalim quickly steps forward and places another loving peck on your lips.

"Alright! And I can walk you home after." And he kisses you again.

And then again.

"Kalim- we should get going." You chuckle, putting a finger on his lips to stop him from pecking your lips again.

"Oh! Right, okay. I just really like doing that." He chuckles bashfully, and you smile, this time kissing him on the cheek playfully.

"I can tell. Now let's get going." You pull him along and he follows dumbly, a goofy smile on his face the whole way.

This is going to be an amazing Christmas. You can just tell.

~~~

Vote for the next character below!

[starlightsearches]

Hello~ congrats on 2k~ I'm absolutely delighted you're including writing for Hux to celebrate, I've read absolutely all of your Hux works a million times and I love them so much still!!! I'd love if you could write Track 7 for Hux please~ thank you ^-^

Track 7: Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates  - Give me a character and a fluff prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Together

AN: This is a second part after this request for those of us who can't handle angst 😬 and thank you for the request, pookie! I hope you all enjoy!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated tee hee

Warnings: Mainly hurt/comfort whoops, language, heavy embarrassment for the reader, lots of talk about gossip, Hux is an awkward little freak, I made up a bunch of stuff about First Order bureaucracy, some brief mentions of sex but nothing too raunchy, and fluff at the end!

There are a lot of rules—both written and implied—when you're working for the First Order.

You're not sure where you'd find don't cry when you're on duty on either of those lists. But you know how dangerous the sting in the back of your throat is, either way.

You've never felt like crying on the bridge before, except for maybe from boredom. While there were tense moments, those were few and far between—like the stretch of empty space between stars.

And still, no battle or pursuit has come close to the horrible feeling that's smothering you as you stare down the back of the general's great coat.

He refuses to look at you, addressing all your orders to the viewport or the space above your head, his back to you whenever he can manage it.

There had been a senseless, simmering thrill that used to rush through you, before you had ruined everything—all those times you had caught the general staring, when you had watched the pink flush of blood crawl over his skin and imagined what the heat from him would feel like echoing from his hands, the press of his body, his wet, flushed mouth.

Stupid. Wanting him. Wanting anything, but especially this—to feel cared for, held, desired, by a man like the general. A man so single-minded, so dedicated to the cause his name was practically synonymous with the First Order itself, the unmitigated power that formed weapons and machines and the ruthless people who wielded them.

And why wouldn't he be ruthless with you? Maybe you were just one of many for the general—another subordinate, something to be used, designed to be discarded in the end.

You've made yourself thoroughly miserable following this trail of evidence to this conclusion, but it's difficult to find an alternative. Why else had he sent you away so soon after you had been together, had banished you from his quarters with the marks he'd left on your skin still stinging?

A voice you recognize too well interrupts your thoughts.

"Fall in. Uniform inspection."

Speaking of misery. Captain Cardall's had arrived on the bridge, sharp eyes wandering, always stained with a shade of loathing he saved just for you.

But you fell in to line, regardless, doing your best to school your expression into something neutral, if not a little resigned. You had given up long ago, trying to find some way to meet Cardall's impossible standards. No matter how much time you spent reading over the uniform regulations, he'd manage to find something you missed—or make up a new rule on the spot, couched in official language as an excuse to redress you, to take you down a peg.

Something he found necessary, although you couldn't imagine why.

You're near the end of the line, and so you're forced to wait, watching as the rest of your team is excused without comment, even Tawani, whose boots are so scuffed they're starting to look gray.

Whatever. Cardall and his pettiness and his stupid demerits were the least of your concerns.

It's your turn now, and you can smell the captain's breath as he nears—day old caff and the rotting stink of his soul. You snap to attention, eyes forward, doing your best not to keep your expression still and stony.

The man circles, looking for a loose stitch, a wrinkle, a crooked cuff. You don't dare breathe, but you can't miss his deepening frown as he scans each and every inch of you, desperation practically oozing out of him.

Fuck. Had you actually managed this time? It's a small consolation prize on the shittiest of days, but you'd take the wins you were offered, even if they couldn't possibly make up for your losses.

You've celebrated too soon. Cardall's face juts toward yours, only inches from pressing against your skin and your stomach rolls with nausea. You can't stop yourself from flinching, from turning away from him and his glacial gaze.

It's hardly a millimeter that you've moved, but you've given the captain everything he needs. A pit forms in your stomach as the joy returns to Cardall's features, the slow curve of his wicked smile.

And you know you've irreparably fucked up.

"Officer," he addresses you, two of his gloved fingers slipping into the space between your collar and skin. His touch is sickening, even through the leather, makes you want to run, but you're stuck, glued in place with fear. "What is this?"

Gods, if you had any luck left in you, any good-will from some unseen power, you'd drop dead right now.

It doesn't happen, though. You stay on your feet, even with the way your knees go numb. Everyone on the bridge has turned to watch. You think, although you may be imagining it, that the general's eyes are turned your way as well, the burn of his attention tracing up and down your spine.

"It's . . ." fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, "a hickey, sir."

You're half surprised Cardall doesn't start doing a little jig with the way he preens, brimming with excitement at this new and wonderful opportunity to humiliate you.

"A hickey?" he asks loud enough for everyone to hear—as if they weren't already engrossed in your torment—and you nod, his thumb just brushing the edge of the edge of the bruise you had tried to cover.

The general had done a number on you, truly. And left the galaxy's worst souvenir.

"Well," Cardall continues, finally pulling away from you to clasp his hands in front of his chest, "this is a serious infraction, isn't it?"

He takes his data pad from his assistant, a mousy young cadet who never utters a word. Cardall makes a big show of bringing up the uniform regulations, making a note on your personnel file that spares no details, narrating the description of the bruise and its location in enough detail it brings heat to your cheeks.

You're immobile, in flames, your own personal funeral pyre lit with shame. And still, you can only think of the general, of the way he must be feeling, watching this display. Did his shame mirror your own, his cheeks pinked as he remembered the feel of your skin between his teeth? Or was he disgusted by you, by this connection he wished so desperately to sever?

"Now," Cardall says, ready to deliver his killing blow, "to whom shall I send the fine for damage to First Order personnel?"

There's a nasty snicker from somewhere outside your line of sight. Everybody was familiar with the rule about visible marks left on other officers—meant to keep younger, and more volatile, cadets from fighting, the threat of a fine pulled from their pitiful service stipends enough to curb most tempers. Or convince the cutthroat ones to be cunning enough not to get caught.

But there was a secondary consequence—officers strutting into work, bruises painting their necks and a smirk on their lips when they announced the responsible party. For the younger and less responsible among you, it had become a particularly bold way to announce a serious relationship, a sign of commitment.

Not an option for you, of course.

"I take responsibility for the damage, sir," you state, feigning confidence and hoping no one will notice the way your voice shakes, "I'll cover the fine."

A hum of disappointment, a rush of whispers. It's allowed, certainly, but will only increase the intrigue, the rumors that will follow you around for weeks, or even longer, if all other wells of drama stay dry.

Captain Cardall sneers, but he's left impotent in this, at least. He makes another note on his data pad and stalks away to the next officer in line, but he must be at least a little satisfied with his torment, given the little hop in his step and the set of his shoulders.

You breathe, in and out, in and out, but just barely—too aware of your still-captive audience to allow yourself anything like relief. Instead, you blank your mind of everything that's just happened and turn back to your station, becoming a machine, emotionless and unblinking.

You spend the rest of your shift ignoring the unmistakable burn of the general's gaze.

Your time on the bridge comes to an end, and your replacement materializes at your side, finally releasing you. It's a quick walk back to your quarters, one you manage without tearing up or screaming in the halls, relishing the way your door sounds as it falls closed, sealing you safely from the shitstorm outside.

Finally alone, you fall back against the wall and take your first real breath.

Now you could break down in peace.

"Are you alright?"

It's mortifying, the way you jump at the whisper, the way your eyes—blown wide with fear—find him in the center of the room, watching you.

The general looks achingly handsome; you can't help but recognize it. High spots of color in his cheeks, his dark eyes flashing in the light, and it breaks your heart all over again to have him here in front of you.

"General," you force the word out, then try for some semblance of decorum, straightening your posture like it could ground you in such strange circumstances.

He only nods, and though you'd never truly trust your ability to read him ever again, there is something about the expression he wears—brows furrowed and meeting in the center, eyes turned down at the corners.

The general is worried, and the expression is not at home on his face.

He must not want you to see it, because he's swift to glance away from you, eyeing the walls without seeing much, the fingers on one hand tapping at the palm of the other.

It's so different from the last time you were alone. Any awkwardness had been swallowed up by the heat of the moment—his arms wrapped tight around your waist, those hungry and desperate kisses that still made your knees grow weak.

You can't speak, and even if you could, you're not sure what you would say. Why had he come here? To berate you? To thank you for letting all the embarrassment fall squarely on your shoulders?

"I—" the general starts, then pauses, flashing his eyes to yours, "I would have waited for your return, but given the circumstances—"

The circumstances. That's one way to put it.

"Of course," you mumble, and you do understand. If anyone had seen him waiting for you outside your quarters, it would have only offered greater fuel to the blazing stories that were undoubtedly already traveling the ship, red-hot and sparking from one person to the next.

"Are you alright?" The general repeats his question, still watching, still unreadable, but there's a softness to his voice that's entirely unfamiliar.

You nod, barely, throat tight and sore, eyes ready to well with tears at this small sign of concern—that he had sought you out, despite everything.

The general presses his lips into a tight line, and there's something in the cant of his body, tense with forward energy, leaning toward you like this small distance pains him.

"I've taken care of the fine," he tells you, "discretely. And the notes in your file."

You open your mouth to speak, to thank him, but no sound makes it out. There are tears now, pooling at the bottom of your lashes, but you won't blink, won't let them fall.

General Hux does step forward at the sight of them, fervent, the space between you shrinking, close enough he could reach out and touch you, if he wanted.

"And I'll take care of Captain Cardall, as well."

The words, and the severity behind them, drain the color from your face.

"No, please," you caution him with a shake of your head, "it will only make people talk more."

Cardall would certainly not react well to any kind of criticism—especially not where you were concerned—and the well of bitterness inside him was deeper than any other you had known. He'd spread the story himself, no doubt, and the connections were easy to make.

But the general is undisturbed.

"I don't care if people talk."

Spoken with all the authority in the world. You should have known a man like the him couldn't be frightened by a few whispered words.

Against your will and without any influence on your part, a little hope blossoms in your chest. He isn't embarrassed by you, isn't ashamed that others might try to guess at a relationship.

The general's eyes drop from your own, tracing the collar of your uniform, and he reaches out a hand, pausing just before his gloved fingers meet the skin of your neck.

"May I?" he asks, and you nod in confirmation, breath catching in your throat as he pulls your uniform out of the way, eyes the mark he had left on your skin.

His skin goes pink, cheeks rosy when he sees how he had stained you in the heat of the moment, sees it with the eyes of all the others who had witnessed the spectacle of you.

"I'm-" he flushes deeper, eyes bewildered," You must know how very sorry I am for— for this."

"Don't be."

It's the polite thing to say, you think, in a moment like this one, but you mean it. Being with him had been worth all the pain.

His eyes flash, wide with surprise now, and you don't miss the way his fingers brush at the column of your throat, reaching for more of you.

"Really?"

His tone incredulous, so different from what you're used to that you breathe out a laugh, letting your own hand reach up to rest on his outstretched arm, just brushing at the bare stretch of skin between his glove and the cuff of his sleeve.

He takes another half-step forward, his hand moving to cup at the curve of your neck.

"I had thought—" he starts, but he can't get the words out, eyes so wide and open, marveling at the touch of your hand.

He doesn't need to say it. You know what he had been thinking because those same fears had been yours.

How delightful it is to have been proved wrong.

You pull him closer, stroking your hand down the sleeve of his uniform and there's only a little hesitation in his touch when his other hand meets your waist.

General Hux smiles at you, really, and the expression is miraculous, has him glowing. Your heart stops beating.

He kisses you, slow, so very unlike the last time, and you feel that miraculous smile pressed against your own.

Nothing could be better.

[eliasorchard]

okay i finally settled comfortably enough to read it and WOAH.

to say im pleasantly surprised is an understatement tbh. i haven't read a well written william x reader fic in SO LONG so this really made me happy. just so you know, i'm going to pretend this is my christmas present

i knew you had good vocabulary but damn ayumi, this was good. all the sentences you put together are so descriptive and vivid, it really lets you picture the scene

im in love with the teasing comments they make to one other in passing, it feels light and realistic, and so intimate. agh this is so good 😭 you did so well, well done. AND WILLIAM IS SO SMOOTHAJASJIWIS, i really liked that. the words you used to describe him and the actions he did/sounds he made made him sound attractive as hell

the environment...the build up...the dialogue...the little details... there wasn't one moment where i wasn't impressed fr

also, the relationship between the two was extremely nice to see as well, they're comfortable with each other but you can still feel some tension between each other. sometimes i have issues trying to make the perfect balance between the relationship of two (or more) characters where there's both some tension and banter, and you captured that extremely well.

all in all, this was such a wonderful read whdusjs i loved this and i would love to go in more detail but i'll refrain for now 👍 as always, i'm excited to see what you'll be able to come up with next. i really do love your writing ayumi 🫶

edit: the playlist cover thing is so cool, love your vibes

"𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓"

"𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙮."

ꕥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: william james moriarty / reader

ꕥ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied female reader, +18, smut, nsfw, oral (f + m), fingering (f!receiving), sex (p in v), edging, unprotected sex, mutual pining, romantic intimacy, emotional vulnerability, mention of crimes and society's problems.

ꕥ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: william james moriarty, the infamous lord of crime, is now your ally. but when he stands at your door late at night, you find yourself questioning if being just that is enough. there’s a tension between you, something more than simple partnership. as trust and desire intertwine, you can't help but wonder—what is it that draws you to him? is it mere fascination, or something far deeper?

ꕥ 𝐰𝐜: 4135!

ꕥ thank you @eliasorchard for your support

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤

The room was still, the only sounds being the faint scratching of your pen and the soft crackle of the candle burning low on your desk. Books lay scattered across the surface, open to pages filled with intricate diagrams and notes you’d carefully scrawled over the past few hours. The faint scent of wax and parchment lingered in the air, familiar and comforting.

The knock on the door broke the fragile silence. It wasn’t loud, just a gentle rapping, but it was enough to pull you from your focus. Your pen stopped mid-stroke, hovering over the page as your gaze shifted toward the sound. A rare disturbance at this hour.

You rose from your seat, tugging at the edges of your skirt to smooth the fabric. The floor creaked softly beneath your bare feet as you approached the door, hesitating for a moment with your hand on the handle. Taking a quiet breath, you turned it and pulled the door open.

"William?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. The faint flicker of candlelight casts shadows over his face, making his expression even harder to read. He stood there, as calm as ever, but something in his stance gave him away—something small, but enough to make your curiosity spike.

"Is everything all right?" you pressed, your voice softer this time. “It’s unusual to see you at this hour.”

"I do apologize," he said, his tone as polite as ever. The golden strands of his hair fell lightly over his scarlet eyes, catching the faint light in a way that made it hard to look away. "But I assure you, I am here on business, not merely for the pleasure of your company."

"First of all, it’s quite rude to leave a guest standing at the door, don’t you think?" you remarked, a quiet chuckle escaping your lips as you stepped aside to hold the door open. Your gaze flickered briefly over the sharp lines of his black cloak, a garment clearly chosen for its ability to conceal more than just his identity. Though your tone carried a playful edge, your posture remained poised, every movement calculated with the kind of grace that bordered on instinct.

You gestured toward the leather armchair by the fireplace, its surface gleaming in the soft, golden glow of the flickering flames. "Please, make yourself comfortable," you added smoothly, your words effortlessly mingling warmth with precision. "I’ll prepare some tea."

William chuckled, a spark of amusement flickering in his scarlet eyes. "Your consideration is truly remarkable," he said, the edge of a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Though, I must say, I’m rather surprised you’d welcome me after such an ungodly hour and finding you, of all places, in your own room."

With a smooth nod, he entered the room, his movements effortless, like he had all the time in the world. His gaze swept the space, lingering on the flickering fire that cast shadows across the walls and shelves. He lowered himself into the armchair with a languid grace, his fingers finding each other almost instinctively as he settled in. "Quite cozy in here," he remarked, his voice laced with dry humor.

Some minutes later, you proceeded to pour hot water into the teapot, which had been previously filled with tea leaves. You presented him with an exquisite fine china cup, worth thousands of pounds, in a serene manner.

William accepted the delicate porcelain cup with a small, appreciative smile, his fingers wrapping around the smooth china with careful precision. He brought the cup to his lips, inhaling the floral fragrance before taking a sip. "I must admit," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, "you truly have a talent for creating...environments." His eyes briefly scanned the room before returning to you. "I hadn’t imagined a study would require quite so much furniture." There was a playful note, but his tone remained gentle, his gaze sharp as he watched your reaction.

He was bold, that much was obvious, and you couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at your lips. He had that effect on you — no denying it. There was something about him that screamed genius, that rare kind of brilliance that only comes once in a lifetime. Or, as you liked to joke, a damn mastermind. It wasn’t easy to hide anything from him, though. His eyes were sharp, always watching, always noticing. You could try to mask your thoughts, but he seemed to see right through you, like an open book.

"I realized I was working into the late hours, so I thought, why not make things convenient?" You lifted your cup, savoring a sip of tea, before gesturing casually toward the king-sized bed nestled behind you. A subtle smile played on your lips as you added, "Besides, I think it adds a certain charm to the room, wouldn’t you agree?"

"I assure you, that charm pales in comparison to the owner's," he murmured smoothly, the comment slipping from his lips with such ease that it almost went unnoticed. Before you could muster a reply to his casual flirtation, he seamlessly shifted topics, his tone adopting a more serious edge. "Speaking of pressing matters, did you receive the documents regarding the labor exploitation and trafficking schemes between the French and British elites? Or perhaps any updates from your meeting with the Queen?"

"I wouldn’t say receive—more like acquired by stealing," you chuckled softly, shifting slightly in the armchair beside him, your body moving with a fluid grace as if to shake off the weight of the conversation. "But don’t worry, I’ll fetch them for you, all right?"

Rising to your feet, you crossed the room with purpose, the soft tap of your steps barely audible against the rich carpet. At the mahogany wood drawer, your fingers traced its edge before pressing a hidden button beneath it, revealing a concealed compartment.

William observed the process with a faint, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His crimson gaze followed each movement you made, noting the precision and ease with which you executed even the simplest of tasks. It hadn’t escaped him how much more efficient his life had become since forging an alliance with you—an ally who, thus far, had never failed him.

Yet, it was him who messed things up, since your relationship was supposed to be strictly professional. But there he was, lingering in those moments you shared—debating, reading, or planning together. It was like he couldn’t help himself, enjoying it more than he probably should.

He didn’t even notice when she was standing right in front of him, handing over the documents he’d asked for. That expression of surprise lasted only a second, then he masked it, quietly diving into the information like it was the only thing that mattered.

"So, there really is a cartel between the English and French elites, keeping the textile industry under the control of those arrogant bastards." he muttered, his voice low with a tinge of disgust. His lips curled slightly, his tone almost mocking as he continued, "And as if that wasn’t enough, they’re linked to the deaths of workers and the suppression of popular movements."

William let out a dry chuckle, running a hand over his face, his fingers briefly lingering at his temples as if trying to rub away the weight of the revelation.

"Thankfully, you’ve prepared a plan, Liam. At least those monsters will see their power diminished," you said as you reached for the empty cups. With practiced ease, you placed them on a silver tray, the porcelain making a soft clink. Turning back to him, you folded your arms lightly, tilting your head with a hint of curiosity. "So, what’s next? What am I required to do now?"

"Don’t worry about work now. You’ve already done enough, risking your life for those documents," he said, offering you a reassuring glance. His voice was soft, almost gentle, though the edge of his usual sharpness lingered. "Enjoy your rest for a while."

"Are you going home now?" you inquired, watching him carefully. You figured he had accomplished what he came for and didn’t have any other reasons to stay. "Do you want me to call my coachman?"

"I was lying when I said I was only here for business," he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He shifted slightly, a faint trace of embarrassment coloring his expression. "But, are you willing to listen to what I have to say?"

Was he implying he felt attracted to you ?

You glanced at his eyes—scarlet, like a deep, burning flame—and then, almost involuntarily, your gaze shifted to his lips. There was something dangerous about the way he stood there, words hanging between you both like a heavy fog. The air felt charged, and you weren’t sure whether you were ready to step into it or pull back.

He raised from his seat with deliberate ease, his movements carrying a quiet confidence. He leaned down, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his fingers brushing softly against your lips as if testing the waters. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with something raw and unguarded. "Please, tell me, name... May I kiss you?"

"Do you really think I would reject you?" you murmured, a playful edge to your tone as you closed the gap between you. Your hands reached up, pulling him into a kiss that was anything but shy. His fingers found their way to your neck, the touch insistent as he deepened the moment, his warmth consuming you entirely.

Without breaking the kiss, he swept you into his arms with ease, carrying you as though you weighed nothing. The world tilted for a moment before you felt the soft sheets beneath you. He placed you down gently, his touch careful, as his scarlet eyes met yours, searching for permission to go further, silently asking for permission.

You answered without hesitation, your gaze and the way you drew him closer saying everything he needed to know.

He then used his lean, slightly calloused fingers to trace along your thigh, moving deliberately. Each touch was firm yet careful, stirring sensations that sent shivers through your body. You tensed under his hand, your breath hitching as his fingers circled the hem of your skirt, playing just at the edge.

The slowness wasn’t accidental—he enjoyed drawing out your reactions, taking his time as if savoring every second. You could feel the subtle pressure of his fingertips, rough but measured, igniting a mix of frustration and longing. A soft sigh escaped your lips, one you couldn’t suppress, and his low chuckle followed immediately after.

“Patience,” William murmured, his breath brushing your ear. His tone carried the faintest hint of mockery, making the flush on your cheeks deepen.

His fingers slid just beneath the edge of the fabric, and the warmth of his touch against bare skin made your pulse quicken. The teasing was unbearable, every nerve in your body screaming for more. The tension was maddening, and finally, you couldn’t hold back.

“Just take this off already,” you huffed, trying to sound commanding but failing to hide the tremble in your voice. Your fists clenched at your sides, as if the small motion could keep you grounded. “Stop toying with me, William.”

He paused, a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back slightly. His crimson eyes traveled slowly across your form, a deliberate sweep that left you feeling bare under his gaze.

“Why would I stop?” he asked smoothly, his voice low and teasing. “I’m enjoying the view.”

Then, with infuriating calm, he moved his hands to his waist, undoing the button of his pants with a soft click.

"If you’re not going to do it, I’ll just handle it myself." You inverted your positions, placing all your weight on top of him – a silent reminder that you, too, had the strength to equal him.

That surprised him, though not in the way you might have expected—he visibly hardened beneath you. Glancing down, a smug grin spread across your lips, satisfaction glinting in your eyes as he tasted his own poison.

William's pupils dilated when you had the brilliant idea of starting to take off each piece of clothing from your body. He could no longer suppress his desire, not when he finally had your bare skin touching his. "I surrender," he murmured, your name lingering on his tongue. His voice was hoarse with longing, tinged with the faint embarrassment of admitting defeat in this intimate battle.

He gently placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer until his lips captured yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. The tenderness quickly gave way to passion as his lips explored yours with a fervent curiosity, eager to uncover every hidden detail. A low groan escaped your throat when his tongue slipped into your mouth, the intensity of his desire igniting something equally heated within you.

"It seems you're skilled in more than just academics, Mr. Moriarty," you teased, your voice slightly breathless as your lips parted. The unusual fervor in his kiss contrasted with the composed, calculated persona he so often wore, making your remark all the more fitting.

A mocking expression played across his face, silently taunting you, as if to say your situation was no better than his. To stoke the flames further, his fingers began to explore the delicate heat between your folds, teasingly tracing the slickness that had escaped the confines of your now-forgotten undergarments, abandoned somewhere on the floor.

"I can show you many other things I skilled as well, my lady."

Your eyes fluttered shut from the overwhelming stimulation, breaths uneven as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Instinctively, your legs attempted to close, but his firm hands pushed them apart, holding you in place. Without hesitation, his head dipped lower, drawing closer to your womanhood with purpose. "Liam, it's so good. I can't take it anymore," you gasped, your voice trembling and pitching higher with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

He looked up at your face from below, a soft, almost predatory smile tugging at his lips. "Darling, I know you can," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire.

The words sent a jolt through you, your body arching slightly in response. Before you could protest, his tongue returned to its relentless pace, circling your clitoris with maddening precision. Each flick and swirl sent waves of satisfaction that spread like wildfire through your body, leaving you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled as his hands pressed into your skin with just enough force to ground you while his tongue pushed you higher. When he slid a single finger inside, the intrusion was almost too much, your walls instinctively clenching around him. But it was the curl of his finger — achingly precise, particularly for his first time — that sent shockwaves through your core.

A strangled moan escaped your lips as he found your sweet spot, a sensation so intense it was almost unbearable. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut as the world outside this moment faded into oblivion. The faint rustle of sheets beneath you and the warmth of his breath against your most sensitive skin grounded you, while your thoughts spiraled—momentarily forgetting that you were ever rivals.

"William—please," you gasped, voice quivering. The desperation in your tone surprised even you, but it didn’t faze him. If anything, it spurred him on.

His free hand moved to grip your hip, his touch rough yet reassuring as if to anchor you amidst the storm he was conjuring. The rhythm of his movements was unrelenting, every stroke and flick driving you closer to the edge.

Your breaths grew uneven, each inhale catching in your throat as the tension within you coiled tighter. The only sounds in the room were your soft whimpers and the wet, sinful noises of his ministrations — you felt yourself nearing your release, unable to hold on any longer.

"Come for me, darling. Don't hold back," he urged, his baritone voice coaxing as you reached your peak. A broken moan escaped you as your fingers tangled in his golden hair, pulling slightly to steady yourself, while he eagerly savored every drop of your release.

You let out a soft chuckle, the calming sensation washing over you leaving your body pleasantly exhausted and your head spinning faintly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin as you tried to steady your breathing. William rose from his position, leaning in close. His lips brushed against your forehead in gentle, lingering kisses, a tender contrast to the intensity of moments before.

"I believe it's your turn now. After all, I’m not one to allow imbalance, especially in matters of pleasure," you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you glanced at him with an air of confident mischief.

He couldn’t help but glance at you, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge, that highlighted his mixture of intelligence and a shadowed past—one you had yet to unravel. "If you insist," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine, "who am I to deny you this pleasure?"

With deliberate slowness, he spread his legs slightly, the fabric of his underwear tightening just enough to reveal the unmistakable length of his desire. Your breath hitched at the sight, heat rushing to your cheeks, but his gaze pinned you in place, unapologetic.

Placing his hands firmly on his thighs, he leaned back ever so slightly, the motion hinting a challenge. A wicked smirk danced across his lips as he taunted, "Come here—if you dare."

You weren't one to shy away from challenges, so pleasing the infamous Lord of Crime couldn't possibly be dangerous, could it? That question went unanswered as you pushed his underwear down with anticipation, sliding it off his feet before letting it fall to the ground. It revealed the most delicious cock you had ever seen – the tip swollen, a deep pink hue, and the girth, goodness, it could stretch you deliciously.

"I see why you're so popular in society, my my," you teased, your tongue flicking gently along his base. In response, he let out a low groan, his grip tightening on the bed sheets.

"Do you really think I would bed someone who doesn’t share my ideals?" His voice was low, barely a whisper, as you felt his body tense beneath your touch. His eyes closed, a faint hiss escaping him, not from pain, but from the pleasure your actions were bringing. "And do you honestly believe I have the time for endless physical relationships?" His lips curled into a slight, mocking smile, even as he fought to keep his composure. "You couldn't be more wrong."

"So, am I privileged?" Your eyebrow arched in anticipation, a playful challenge in your gaze. As you took the tip of him into your mouth, you circled it with your tongue, feeling the salty taste of his precum linger. You couldn't help but chuckle, the vibrations sending a thrill through him, awaiting his response.

"What do you think?" William murmured, his voice laced with a soft amusement. His hand moved to your head, a gesture both tender and possessive. Slowly, his fingers combed through your hair, savoring its texture as he massaged your scalp in a soothing rhythm. And then, your lips wrapped around him, moving up and down his length in a steady rhythm, your effort evident as you fought to suppress the urge to gag. The stretch and weight of him tested your limits, but you kept going, driven by the muffled groans of your name that escaped his lips.

"Shit, name, you're gonna make me cum," he murmured, his voice hoarse with restraint. But you didn’t relent. If anything, you pushed him further, your fingers trailing down to gently massage his balls, drawing out a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest. Determined, you took him fully into your mouth, the stretch overwhelming but intoxicating, your nose brushing against the soft tickle of his blond pubes as you moved.

And just as he seemed on the verge of release, you pulled away with a mischievous grin, leaving him with a devilish expression. "Little minx," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "do you really think you're going to get away with that?"

"With what?"

Without hesitation, he slipped his hands behind your back, flipping you beneath him with a swift yet deliberate motion. His crimson eyes burned with unrestrained desire as he aligned himself against your entrance, teasing you with the head of his length, as he rubbed it against your slit. "Now take all of me," he commanded, his voice low and thick with hunger.

Following that, he slammed into you, the slick heat of your walls wrapping around him with an almost perfect fit, causing his length to twitch with raw pleasure. "You feel incredible, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping with longing. With a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he pushed deeper, his tip grazing your cervix. "So wet and ready, all for me," he added, his words lingering in the charged air before he closed the distance, capturing your lips in an intimate kiss – his hands roaming into your body as he explored you.

While immersed in the kiss, your bodies shifted, and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap. Your hips moved in tandem with his, rocking back and forth, taking in the fullness of his massive length and girth with each motion. Soon, you buried your face in his neck, the aroma of his cologne enveloping you. It carried a sophisticated oud note, warm and smoky, with hints of spice and leather that lingered like a signature of his power. The heat of his skin against your cheek sent a subtle hum through your body, and you couldn’t resist brushing your lips softly along the pulse at his throat, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your touch.

You felt yourself nearing the edge, and it was clear he was too—his brows furrowed, his shoulders rigid with tension. His gaze burned into your breasts, the intensity sparking a shiver through you. His fingers didn’t falter, tracing deliberate, slow circles around your sensitive areolas, the coolness of his skin sending a contrast against your warmth.

Your hands clung to his back, nails tracing faint marks as your body tightened around his cock, your climax spilling around him in a slick, glistening ring. "I... I’m going to pull out now, name," he murmured, his voice strained and pitched higher from restraint. With a sharp exhale, he withdrew, and his release followed—hot, white streaks painting your belly in messy, heated patterns.

The room is still heavy with the warmth of the moment, while William moves with purpose, his hands gentle as they clean you up, the motions slow but steady.

"Jesus, I think we really need a rest now," you mutter, voice low. "Or we won't be able to do any work tomorrow."

He laughs quietly, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the room. His fingers are careful, wiping away with a handkerchief he found in a close wooden corner table any traces of him in your skin, and replied, "it would be perfect, since our bodies need to rest. Now, let me take care of you."

Seeing a nod, William moved with a quiet grace, slipping into his silk pajamas. The fabric clung to his frame just enough to reveal the sharpness of his form, the deep midnight blue catching the light as he adjusted the cuffs with ease.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, before he stepped closer, his hands gentle as he helped you into your own nightwear. Then, he carefully dressed you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he fastened the buttons.

You lay on your right side, facing the cool edge of the bed, while he settled on the left, a small gap between you that felt oddly familiar. The blanket, thick and heavy with a soft, worn texture, was pulled up to your chins as you both adjusted into place. You reached for the lamp on the corner table, which clicked off with a soft metallic sound, leaving the room bathed in silence and the intensity of each other's gaze.

"I think we overdo it a little too much."

"...."

"I agree."

"Maybe we should just accept it...no?"

"It would be a pleasure."

[animeomegas]

Warnings: non-consensual neck grabbing from enemy nin, non-sexual subspace, panic attacks, hurt/comfort galore

Necks are sensitive and delicate areas, but this is extra true for omegas. Being grabbed near or on the neck spooks them on an instinctual level that can be difficult to settle.

So imagine your omega comes back from a mission with his eyes wide, tinged with a feral tinge. He's shaking a little, on edge and hypervigilant. There's a bruise on his neck that gives away what must have happened during his mission.

Rage bubbles up inside you at the thought of someone hurting him like that, touching him like that. You're tempted to hunt down the perpetrator and make them pay, threaten his teammates too, for letting this happen.

But you can't leave him. Not your omega, not now.

Neji:

And if you were angry, then Neji was furious.

"They just- I didn't- How dare-" he had furious tears in his eyes as he approached you. You didn't hesitate to wrap him in your embrace. He didn't embrace you back but instead tucked his arms between your chests like he was trying to fold himself into you. You held him tighter.

"Are they dead?"

Neji growled a horrible growl into your shoulder. You waited for him to finish, trying to encircle him even more in your arms to protect him from the world.

"Yes," he finally pushed out. He tried to force himself closer to you, although there was no more space to occupy.

"Good." You pressed a kiss to his head. "I've got you."

And that was all Neji needed to hear before the tears bubbled over.

Kakashi:

"Do you need your collar, baby?" you asked, gently holding his face in your hands. He had crashed to your feet the second he had walked through the door, and was now breathing harshly, his eyes cloudy with panic.

A whine violently ripped out of him. You weren't the only one who jumped at the sound, and Kakashi looked equally shocked that such a noise had escaped him.

"Okay, okay, hold still," you swallowed your rage and tried not to fumble as you fastened the familiar collar around his throat.

As soon as you were done, he collapsed forward onto your lap, and you spent the next hour gently stroking the skin around the collar until your Kakashi could come back to you.

Itachi:

"What happened?" you demanded, storming your way over to him, you hands flittering over the vibrant purple bruise.

Itachi blinked at you, as though he wasn't quite sure why you were behaving like this. You waited for his response, but none came. He just blinked at you again, his eyes suspiciously foggy.

You lowered your voice and tried to remove any anger from your voice, even though it was impossible to remove it from veins. "Itachi?"

"Alpha?" he asked, voice slightly slurred. "Please- please don't be angry."

"I'm not angry at you, darling." You stepped closer, watching him intently for signs of discomfort. Ever so gently, you ran you thumb on the underside of his jaw. He let out a shuddering sigh, but no more recognition seemed to emerge. "Why don't we get you all cleaned up and safe in your nest, does that sound good?"

His foggy eyes jumped to yours for the first time, and he immediately nodded. "Please."

Naruto:

"It's-It's not as bad as it looks," Naruto laughed, entirely at odds with the way his whole body was still shaking with adrenaline. "They just, caught me off guard, that's all."

The anger was buried under the heartbreak at his reaction. Did he think you would brush him off? Tell him to get over it? You wordlessly opened your arms to him, and for a second you caught the way his fake smile fell and his face screwed up with emotion before he collided with you and buried his face in your chest.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I didn't mean to cry. I'm fine, I just-"

"You're just in my arms right now, and there is nothing in this world that would get me to let go of you, I promise."

Shikamaru:

"Mark me again, you have to- you have to bite me." His eyes were almost manic as he grabbed you and pushed you down onto the sofa before climbing on your lap. "Fuck! Please, you have to."

"Shikamaru!" You grabbed his face and tried to hold him still, but he wrenched it away in favour of shoving the juncture of his neck, bruised in blue and black, in front of your mouth. "Hold on a second-"

"No! They, they defiled it, you need to fix it!"

"It's going to hurt you-"

"I don't care! Just do it!"

Throwing caution to the wind, you indulged both him and your baseline instincts, still furious that someone had dared to touch his mating mark at all, let alone with such aggression. You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, over his previous mark, refreshing it in a small wave of red.

Shikamaru hissed at the pain, but as the endorphins flooded in, his eyes closed and he collapsed completely on top of you, breathing harshly. You lapped at the bite soothingly, and only then did some of the oppressive scent of manic omega clear from the air.

[itsabea]

March x sad Reader

Description: March tries his best to comfort you after you have a particularly busy day and end up exhausted

Warnings: not proof read, hinting at depression(reader), slight angst, swearing,

this is purely self indulgent- but then again, almost all of my writing is-

You had been so busy today, exceedingly more so than usual. First of all, it was raining, which you didn't mind because it meant your crops were already watered - but things only got more hectic and busy from there on on out..

You collected, put away, sold, and replanted your crops, then went to go fishing for a salmon for Jo's Request that you had accepted about a month ago.. Only to realise about an hour an a half in that it was currently Summer. Now with much less of your energy, you went to the general store to buy some more seeds and a few fruit trees, which left you with a total of 5 Tesserae as a result.

After going back to your farm and planting the saplings and seeds, you realised that it was only two more days until the end of the season. And so, you went back to fishing to try and catch the rest of the Summer fish you need for the Museum. Admittedly, most of that time was spent walking to and from the ponds to the beach, as that's where the rest of the fish you needed were found.

Once it hit 5:30, you realised that it wasn't just the third to last day of the season.. It was also a Friday. Sighing and slumping your head back, you defeatedly headed home to get ready for your weekly visit to the Inn. Hauling the bag full fish with you on your back, you got back to your farm and placed the not so important ones in your shipping bin, only to realise that you needed one more pond fish to finish that collection.... And it only showed up in the rain..

You were tired. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy your new life in Mistria; helping out the town and it's people. Or that today was bad; you had many content and joy filled moments between it all. But you were tired. So, so, tired..

Right now, nothing was more appealing than curling up in your bed, and crying.

So that's what you did. You put away your items, got showered and dressed into your pyjamas, and you laid down in your bed and cried out the remainder of what little was left of your energy.

You didn't even end up falling asleep afterwards like you usually did when crying in your bed.. Which upset you much more than you realised it would.

I mean.. Why get up just to do it all again tomorrow? The next day would likely end up being longer than today as well.. Not that today wasn't enjoyable- But it wasn't as enjoyable as others... People need you around town though, they always tell you that- You're not that important - the townsfolk don't rely on you to live....

You curled up in on yourself more, lying on your side as the tears began to flow down your cheeks again. It felt hopeless. Everything felt like it wasn't worth it anymore. And you continued to cry in your home until a knock sounded on your door.

At first, you thought you had misheard and simply sighed out a sob. But after a much firmer knock, you realised that it wasn't just you hearing things. Tiredly getting up, you assumed it was Adaline or Eiland, popping by to inform you about a new job that needed to be done around town. Or maybe Celine or Hayden needing some sugar or something?

Either way, you knew all four options were kind enough to excuse your tired, red eyes and pyjama clad form, so you didn't bother trying to make yourself the slightest bit presentable before opening the door. Which was a big mistake on your part, because March was the one that stood in your doorframe, looking down at you with a frown you could barley see through your slightly blurred vision.

"Why are you here?" March said suddenly, looking too the side as you rubbed at your eyes to try and clear them up. "Uhm- I live here?" You responded, no energy left to think up or question his presence on your farm.

After a huff and an exaggerated eyeroll, March rephrased went on to rephrase his question. "No- Why aren't you-" But he cut his words short when he watched your head bob forward like a sleepy child. "What, did you get tired from playing in the dirt all day? I can't believe you-" "Fuck you." You said back, one last tear rolling down your cheek as whatever energy you had that was keeping you standing left you.

In that same instant, you felt a falling sensation as your vision went black. You were tired.

Every so often you'd end up seeing glimpses of your home, but it was somehow moving? Your doorframe.. Black.. Your ceiling... Black... Your ceiling light.... Black.... More ceiling..... Black.....

Every time you saw black, you felt relieved and slightly less tired, especially compared to when you could see your home. And then, a warm sensation surrounded you, like you were being wrapped in a big hug that left you yearning for more.

When you reopened your eyes, you found yourself tucked into bed. The blankets were up to your ears as you laid on your side, about to roll over when you finally noticed the red head of hair resting on top of the blankets in front of you. Humming out, with a slight groaned mumbled, you went to speak up but were promptly cut off.

"Shup up and go back to sleep." March said, lifting his head from its resting position to look at you with stern, yet soft eyes. Feeling your tiredness envelope you, you closed your eyes but felt the cogs in your brain ticking. Why was March here? What was he doing? And why were you in your bed- You suddenly remembered falling into March in your doorway, and him carrying you to your bed before tucking you in.

You felt bad for cursing at him now, but you were also much more confused about why he was even at your farm in the first place. "March-" You started, only for said male to cut you off. "Shoosh. I said, 'go back to sleep'." He retorted, and if your eyes weren't still closed, you had a feeling that he'd glare at you again.

You didn't end up going back to sleep, but you did have a very calm conversation with March as you continued to rest with your eyes closed.

"I'm sorry." March said, being the first to speak after he told you to sleep for the second time. "Why-" "Shut up, you're supposed to be asleep." March said, cutting you off as moment of silence followed before he ended up answering your question. "I know I can be.. A rude asshole - a lot of the time.." March admitted as you felt him start to play with the top of the blanket slightly.

You didn't dare make a single sound as he continued to talk, telling you about how everyone at the Inn was starting to wonder where you were, and how Reina came to the conclusion that you might be over worked.. "-Then Olric offered to check up on you and-" March paused before continuing, having now moved his arm back down from the hem of the blanket as he ceased his delicate fiddling. "And.. And I told him I'd go instead."

The fact you were now frowning didn't go unnoticed by March, who must've been watching you to make sure you didn't open your eyes again. "I know, I know.. I don't why either.... You just-.... You made everyone worried.." March said, trailing off as he went silent again.

After feeling the blankets shift slightly beside you, you peaked your eye open to see March was doing, only to get told off again after seeing March's head resting on his arm directly in front of you. "Sleep." He said, but you had already closed your eye when you saw his eyes intently watching yours.

Your face ran hot with heat from the proximity, which was apparently very visible to March. "Fuck- Please don't tell me you have a damn fever.." He grumbled out, using the back of his free hand to touch your forehead as he continued to complain. "If you went diving and didn't fucking keep warm I'm taking you to Valen." March half threatened, prompting you to frown as he retracted his hand from your forehead.

"Your shipping bin smells like fish." He clarified before you felt him move against the blankets again. This time you felt weight remove itself from beside you, which had you shooting your eyes open with a desperation for company. March looked at you blankly from where he still sat on the floor beside your bed, leaning back on his arms as you watched him open his mouth to tell you off again.

"I'm sleeping..!" You said quickly, hearing a huff emit from the red head in front of your once more closed eyes.

"So.." March started after seconds more of silence. "Why weren't you at the Inn?" He asked, making an exhausted sigh leave you before you spoke. "Tired." You said, waiting for a moment before elaborating on your day. "Tended to crops.. Fed animals... Fished for a stupid non-existent Summer salmon.... Spent all my money on crops.... Planted them.... Went fishing again, but for the Museum.... Died inside.... No energy.... Cried in bed.." You said, starting to tear up again when March spoke up.

"I know it goes against what I always say to you.. But you do a lot around here- Too fucking much to be honest.. And I-" March paused for the umpteenth time that night as you pried your eyes open and looked at him.

He was sitting in the exact same position as when you last opened your eyes, only now he had his head turned from you. Yet, his eyes keep their sights on you, and this time he didn't have the heart to tell you off. March ended up breaking contact with your eyes, his face reddening slightly as he spoke.

"You're enough- More than enough.. You're honestly too much but- Sigh...." March quickly darted his eyes to, and away from you before he continued. "You're a lot. You're so much.. You mean so much- To literally everyone." He said, making another, single tear fall down your face. But this time you had just enough energy.

"Thank you.. March." You managed out, smiling as a few more tears fell down and onto the pillow beneath you.

March wasn't sure what had you crying this time, unsure on whether he did good or bad with his words. But he was by your side once more the moment he watched those tears form into droplets in the corners of your eyes. With a sigh of relief, March relaxed after seeing the slight smile on your face, only to watch it fall the next second as a soft snore left you.

Finally.. You were asleep.