#she’s a mess but she’s a familiar mess

[wosoloml]

— second chance || emily fox x reader

[ “I messed up by breaking up with you, because ever since then, I’ve been missing you everyday.” ]

summary: After having her heart broken by Emily, the reader decided to seize the opportunity for a fresh start in her career by moving to London. Little did she know, her worst nightmare wasi about to come true. But sometimes, nightmares have a way of transforming into the sweetest of dreams.

from this request

wc: 1,744 words. | masterlist

warnings: fluff, mention of heartbreak, angst, secret flirtings, jealousy, happy end

——-

"There is no future for us. I need to leave," were the last words Emily said to me as she walked out of our apartment. Well, not our apartment anymore.

This was the last thing I expected when I came home after interviewing the local handball team, excited to share some amazing news I had received at work.

I walked in with the biggest smile on my face, and we both said at the same time, "I want to talk to you about something." Little did I know that by the end of the conversation, I’d be alone in what used to be our home.

Usually, I’m the one who shares big news first, but this time, I decided to let Emily go ahead. I thought she’d need time to process the fact that the Arsenal Football Club had offered me a position on their media team. Letting her start felt like the considerate thing to do.

What a mistake that turned out to be.

If I’m honest, I don’t even remember how I survived the first night. Curled up in my bed, crying my eyes out, and consumed by the question, "Why?"

Everything began a few years ago when we met at UNC. It started with a little crush on the athletic girl, stealing glances every time we passed each other in the hallway.

After months of back-and-forth and a lot of help from our friends Alessia and Lotte, we finally started dating. It was never easy, especially with football becoming such a big part of Emily’s life, but she always treated me like I was the girl of her dreams. I couldn’t have been happier.

Doing long-distance was a significant challenge for us. She signed her first professional contract with Racing Louisville FC, while I was just starting my first year at the sports journalism academy. But our love was always stronger—stronger than any distance or circumstances. We were supposed to be a team.

Everything became so much easier and better when she finally moved back after joining North Carolina Courage. It felt like the greatest relief.

For days after she told me she was coming back, I fell asleep and woke up with the biggest smile on my face.

Eleven months, two cats, and one apartment later, here I am—without anything. I lost the love of my life simply because she "needed to focus on her career."

We were a team, but now she preferred a solo performance.

She was even too cowardly to come here and pick up her things when I was home. The only message I got from her was:

"When does your shift start, so I know when to get my stuff?"

- EF

EF? Is she serious? We spent the last six years together, went through everything, and shared so many firsts. And the only thing she adds to her message are her initials?

It's pathetic.

---

At 9:00, I arrived at the base camp of THE Arsenal Women's Football Club for this year's training camp in Spain.

It’s been a year and a half since I made the decision to start fresh and begin a new life. A year and a half since a certain American girl broke my heart. Coming to London was the best decision I ever made.

One of my closest friends from college is here with me. Without Lessi and Lotte’s support in those early months, I don't know where I'd be. I came to London with nothing but two cats and a suitcase. Now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

"Y/N!!" I heard a familiar voice shout my name. As I turned around, I saw my favorite defender.

"Lottee, my girl!" I grinned, my smile growing wider as I pulled her into a tight hug.

"How’s my favorite girl? Ready for today’s media day? The first one during training camp in Spain?"

She chuckled. "I can’t wait to get sunburned. You know my British skin isn’t used to that much sun."

As I followed Lotte to her first media date of the day, we passed the changing room, and I suddenly heard a familiar voice. My heart stopped. This can't be real. No, it's not real—maybe I just overheard something.

"What's up, Y/N?" Lotte immediately noticed the shift in my behavior, but I tried to play it cool.

"Nothing. I just thought I heard someone's voice, but that can't be real," I replied.

She nodded, but I could sense a slight change in her mood.

I’m just paranoid. That’s it, for sure.

"Y/N? Could you possibly anchor the 'First Day at Arsenal' segment with our new signing today? It's not public yet that she transferred to London, but we wanted to take advantage of our training camp in Spain to shoot some nice scenes," the media team leader said.

I looked at him, confused. "I didn't know we got a new signing."

"Really? Everyone knows that. Especially Alessia and Lotte Wubben-Moy—they already know her from previous teams. Funny, huh?"

No. I’m just paranoid again. I know it. This cant be happening.

---

"Hey y/n".

That's it. That's the moment I’ve been scared of the whole day. No, scratch that—I've been scared of it for the last 18 months.

I haven’t heard her voice since that specific day she left me in our old apartment. I thought I’d be okay hearing my name from her lips again. God, was I wrong.

"Since when are you here?" I had to hold myself back from laughing at my own question. The first thing I asked her after she cut me out of her life was when she came to Arsenal. If someone had told me this morning that I’d say that, I would’ve laughed in their face.

"My plane from North Carolina landed this morning. It’s not official that I’ve transferred, but they decided spontaneously that I could join the girls here at camp already. I didn’t know you were working here, I promise. I would’ve told you about the transfer."

It’s over for me now. A small chuckle escaped my lips. "You would’ve told me? What would you have said to me? 'Hey, Y/N, by the way, I’m moving to the club where you work, after destroying your life a year and a half ago. Ready to ruin your new life too?' Because that’s what you’re doing right now. You’re destroying my new life. I came to London with nothing. But not with me, Emily. This time, you won’t take everything from me. This is my home."

I slightly shouted at her. She just stared at me. I’m done with her now. Turning around, I left.

---

As the days pass, I have to admit that maybe I’m not completely over her.

It all began when we both became nervous around each other during the "First Day at Arsenal" segment, and it continued with secret touches on the beach and our eyes searching for each other in a room full of teammates and staff.

It’s been difficult to admit that I still get butterflies when she’s near, and that this chapter isn’t as closed as I once thought. Am I ready to let her in again? She hurt me in a way no one else ever has, and that’s something I’ll never forget. But I just miss her, that’s all. Nothing more... or is there more?

It was our last evening in Spain, and the entire staff and team went out for drinks at a local bar. This time, my mind wasn’t occupied by a certain brunette American.

Instead, it was an Irish defender who caught my attention.

It wasn’t the first time Katie McCabe and I had spent time together outside of work. I wouldn’t exactly call it flirting, but we always had a good time laughing together. She knows how to talk to a woman, and let’s just say she’s not hard on the eyes either, so it’s a win-win situation, isn’t it?

When Katie rested her hands on my waist, it was enough to set Emily off. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me outside. I was too stunned by her actions to even react.

"Is she your new girl?" she asked, her voice sharp. I had to hide a smirk.

"What do you mean, Emily?"

"You heard me. Is Katie McCabe your new girlfriend?" I chuckled again, maybe a bit tipsy from the drinks Katie had bought for me.

"No."

Emily didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes.

"Then explain to me why you’re giggling at every statement she makes and why the hell are her hands allowed on your body?"

My face grew serious. "What’s this, Emily? Are you jealous of someone who’s just being friendly? You? The one who ended this relationship, if I may remind you?"

That was it. That was the boiling point for Emily.

"I messed up by breaking up with you, because ever since then, I’ve been missing you every single day," she shouted, her voice frantic. My eyes widened, and my heart melted at her words.

Without thinking, I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

"Finally!" Lotte and Alessia cheered from inside the bar. Finally.

The plane landed in London. Coming back home, my hands locked with the girl I’ve always loved. This is us now—forever.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

It’s My Job

Summary: The reader’s having a rough night but the stranger at the bar decides to offer some assistance when she has nowhere to go...

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Enjoy!

______________

Someday you’d have to thank that boy in seventh grade that taught you how to throw a punch. 

Don’t put your thumb inside your fist unless you want to break it. Do a small twist of your wrist right before impact to deliver more momentum. Throw your body weight behind it to make it hurt more. That’s what you got for being lab partners with the class bad boy but at least you had a chance because of him. 

He neglected to tell you your knuckles would ache, your skin would scrape open and bleed, or even that the adrenaline would make you so jumpy you’d nearly trip on your own feet when you sprinted the hell out of there.

It was eleven at night, your feet taking you to the nearest open door, a bar from the looks of it. You took a deep breath when you got inside, nearly groaning when you saw how dead it was.

“We’re closing up. Tuesday is an early night,” said the bartender, the lone man at the bar swigging down the last of his drink, slapping a few bills down and spinning in his seat to stand.

“No, you don’t under-”

“Out,” said the bartender, your head shaking. “Or I call the cops. I’ve had enough shit for one night.”

“No, I need the cops, I-”

“Out,” said the bartender, shooing you out after the man, the door closing up tight behind.

“No, I...” you said, turning your head to catch sight of the man from the alley hanging out by a wall about three stores down.

“Hey,” said the man nearby, scratching his head, the expression not matching his sour face. “Can you pretend to give me directions while you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“What?” you said, glancing behind him, the guy’s face in a snarl.

“Don’t look at him,” said the man, making shoulder shrugs like he was confused. “You said you need cops and your hand is messed up so I’m guessing douchebag down there did something?”

“W-Was walking and he grabbed me but I hit him and ran...” you said, remembering what he said, fake pointing to an area behind him, wearing a forced smile.

“I see. There’s a black muscle car just up the street behind you. You walk that way and I’ll deal with the asshole back there,” said the man, a dark smile on his face. 

“But-”

“Trust me, kind of my job, sweetheart,” he said, pretending to make a thank you expression, spinning around and walking down the street. You tried to do what he said, not taking too many steps before you heard a thump on the ground, your head turning to find the man shaking out his hand over the out cold alley guy. “He went down like a lightweight. A little proper training and you probably would have gotten him out yourself.”

“Y-Yeah,” you said, the guy pulling his belt from the loops, tying it around the alley guy’s wrists.

“That’ll keep him until the cops show,” said the man, pulling out his phone, giving it a few presses. “Hey Derek...Yeah, it’s Dean. You on duty tonight? Got a pervy assclown down near Chuck’s that could use with an ambulance and an assault charge...he went after some chick in the alley nearby. She got away, bumped into me...yeah, I’ll be sure to tell her what a lucky night she’s having...see you in a few buddy,” he said hanging up the phone. “Cops will be here soon.”

“Thanks...Dean,” you said, the man chuckling.

“You’re very welcome whoever you are,” he said with a smile, squinting his eyes. “You seem super familiar, like extremely familiar. We didn’t go to the same school or something, did we?”

“I’m...I’m in a movie that just came out,” you said, glancing down. “I didn’t realize...”

“Ah, I’ve seen that trailer a thousand times. They won’t stop playing it,” he said, glancing back at the alley guy. “Scumbag like him probably doesn’t give a shit if you’re famous or not. You might want to think about some protection though...maybe a self-defense class at the very least.”

“Maybe...maybe I’ll do that,” you said, nodding your head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t wanna,” you groaned a few weeks later, sitting in a conference room at a protection agency, your manager rolling her eyes at you.

“Okay, your knight in shining armor had a point, Y/N. We were headed down this road anyways,” she said.

“But I took the class. I can kick someone’s ass now,” you said, earning a small laugh from her. “You did too! Anybody messes with us, we got this.”

“Alright Rambo,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you don’t need one all the time but for events and stuff. Besides, maybe you’ll find a cute bodyguard? Find the Costner to your Houston.”

“I ain’t no damsel,” you said, crossing your arms as the door opened.

“Oh, well that’ll make my job...” said the man in a suit, blinking his eyes at you. 

“Dean?” you said, standing up. “What are...”

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “When I said to get some protection, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that let alone pick my agency.”

“He’s cuter than you said he was,” said your manager, giving Dean a little wave.

“Sara,” you growled, Dean smirking down at you.

“Would you like to start the interview, Ms. Y/L/N?” asked Dean, nodding to the chairs.

“This may seem entirely unprofessional but why were you drinking at a bar by yourself late at night?” you asked, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“I was supposed to go on a blind date that night but got stood up. I was somewhat pissed off so I had a drink or two,” he said. “You should give her a call and thank her.”

“You think I didn’t have the situation handled myself?” you asked, Dean shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I took the guess work out of it for you though. That’s my job. You don’t have to wonder if I’ll kick the guy’s ass. You know I will,” he said.

“You’re kinda cocky,” you said.

“You’re kinda stubborn,” he said.

“You’re hired,” you said.

“Already knew I was,” he said, looking you up and down. “My manager will provide you both with a full work history on myself as well as work with Ms. Saxley over there to determine your needs more specifically.”

“That’s it?” you asked, Dean smiling but all business.

“No, you and I are just getting started. Let’s get a coffee down the street and see how well you can follow a few rules to start with.”

_____________

[kruegerspillow]

the look of love ; jayce talis pt.2

creators note: sigh i lowkey made this half awake so i hope this isnt too bad. still, i hope you all enjoy this !!

word count: 2k

warnings: reader is a Zaunite, Piltovans being a bunch of dicks and not proofread.

part one — part two — part three

Work.

His own work haunted him, always chasing him like a shadow; sticking onto him like a curse. He swore to act according to his reputation— the man of progress. But, despite the distractions: the gala, Mel, and Viktor— he can't ignore the people who won't stop breathing down his neck. It was frustrating, to say the least. Even the most sociable creatures get tired of the constant chattering, and today was no different.

Another gala, it was announced. Another, another and another. It’s the same every damn year.

But Jayce never complained. Will he ever? Probably not. He's now apart of the Council, anyway.

The bright lights nearly blinded Jayce upon entering the edifice. The chattering from others became clearly audible now. Jayce adjusted his tie, greeting one person to another as he made his way to the main hall. His legs moved on its own, easily squeezing in and out of the crowds.

“Yep, ah, yeah, sorry there.” He apologized almost awkwardly, stumbling through the horde of people here and there.

The people of Piltover, of course, looked at him with utter respect, having no idea how exhausted he was. His hands constantly trembled from the lack of sleep and his hair had started to be more disheveled by the day. His popularity was something that he’s used to these days, though he did not fully cherish it. On some days he even despise it. Jayce had always wondered how easy it’ll be to disappoint these people if he didn’t live up to their expectations.

“The Golden Boy of Piltover is here!” People whispered to each other with every step they took, gazes locked onto him as if he was some kind of God. They’d blindly worship the ground he stepped on, if they were asked to.

Jayce brushed off the praises and words, trying his hardest to not start another awkward conversation with these Pilties. That was, until he spotted you, in the corner of the room. You were sipping your wine, swirling it in your glass with a carefree look on your face. For you, the room smelled of polished wood and fine wine, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of the Undercity air. Even the way people moved here—graceful, deliberate—seemed like an art form.

Jayce’s heartbeat quickened, his face heating up like some kind of deer caught in headlights. He didn’t want to be seen like this, well, he didn’t have a reason to, did he?

“—Jayce?” A familiar voice called out to him, so sweetly—so soothingly, that he almost fell onto his knees like an idiot.

His head immediately twisted towards the source of the sound, just to find Mel, who’d been staring at him with an almost… confused look. One of her eyebrows raised as she took in the sight of Jayce.

“Ah, Mel, yes. You— you must be here for some kind of political favour?” Jayce asked abruptly, seemingly lost in his own world. That caught Mel’s attention. Political favour? Where'd he get that from?

“No… no, I’m not. I just wanted to converse, that’s all. Though, you seem to be busy at the moment,” she paused. “Whether it’s busy admiring someone from afar or busy with your own work, it doesn’t matter. So, if I may—I’ll bother you next time.”

He cursed himself in the inside, feeling his thoughts turn into a jumbled mess as Mel gave him a small nod of understanding, walking away to talk with other members of the Council. Jayce could’ve sworn that he saw that smirk on her face, and he mentally facepalmed himself. He made himself look like a fool—in front of the Council that he’s most fond of.

A small, defeated sigh left his lips before his gaze returned to you. You didn’t move a single inch from when he’d spotted you. The gears turned in his head slowly but surely, before he made his choice. It’s his chance to finally talk to you, ever since the day of his speech—and he won't waste it.

And like they said, one may die from curiosity.

He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before striding towards you. His steps were steady and calculated, a stark contrast to his beating heart. You looked… magnificent, though he won't admit it himself.

“Hey there,” he'd greeted you awkwardly, standing by your side with a small smile on his lips. Very out of character for the Man of Progress.

His sudden appearance nearly caught you off guard, causing you to look at him wide eyed. With that look on your face, he could only wish that he didn't give you the worst first impression of him. His shoulders tensed momentarily, taking in every detail of your expression. Was there confusion? Indifference?

“Oh? Council Jayce, fancy seeing you here.” You quipped, your voice nearly coming out as a purr.

“Yes, yes. Missing the gala would be… a very unprofessional move from one of the Council members themselves, no?” He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing.

You laughed softly, “hm, fair enough.”

A few seconds of silence passed with only the sound of chattering from others present in his conversation with you. Sweat slid down his palm as he thought of a way to create a smooth flow for the interaction.

“And you are…?” He started.

You paused briefly, amused by the sudden question. The Man of Progress himself is right in front of you with the intention of... getting to know you? Surprising. Your gaze fixed on Jayce's, meeting his hypnotizing hazel eyes that nearly got you in trance. A soft smile tugged from the corner of your lips before you gave him your name.

“Great, it's nice meeting you.” He replied, his mind already chanting your name. “Sorry, where are you from?”

A sigh escaped your lips as you pondered about your answer, “the unpleasant Undercity.”

He noticed the shift in your tone as your gaze moved from him to the crowd of people around you. He'd heard about how differently the Pilties had treated the people of Zaun—it was something that's quite hard to go unnoticed, especially for someone like him. His eyes softened at the mention of Zaun. On the contrary, his muscles tensed beneath his suit.

Zaun wasn't a place that everyone was fond of. It was full of crime, very much unhinged people and so, so much controversy. Though ever since Viktor, his view on the Undercity had shifted a little. Just a little. He's no longer so… defensive around Zaunites, though his full trust wasn't fulfilled—yet. In understanding, he pushed the topics away, wishing to create a comfortable atmosphere for both you and him.

On the other hand, the abrupt silence was unnerving for you. In fear of making him perturbed, you quickly thought of a way to ease the sudden tight atmosphere.

“Sorry, I know it's not the best place to reside from.” You blurt out.

“Wait, no, it's alright, really. I know what it's like.” Jayce quickly assured you, “no judgement from me.”

You gave him a nod of appreciation, hoping that you could change the topic as quickly as possible. You raised your glass to your lips, the wine sliding down your throat with a burning sensation.

“So, how do you like the Gala so far?” He (thankfully) asked, pushing the previous topic away.

“... Loud, fancy, cheerful, you know? I feel like I don't belong here as a Zaunite,” you attempted a poorly made joke.

“Hey, don't say that." He jested, though his voice held a serious edge to it. “This Gala is not exclusive for Piltovans—well, it might seem like it, but no, it isn't. I know some Zaunites are... capable and worthy.”

“You really think so?”

“I've seen them with my own eyes,” he paused before leaning in. “You.”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you watched him, a soft look present in his eyes before he straightened his posture once again. Jayce could feel his own heartbeat quicken, not knowing why he'd made that risky move that could possibly shatter the upcoming bond between the both of you.

“Well, I'm flattered.” You admitted, “though, I'm curious. What makes you think that?”

“Seeing you in the Piltover Academy is enough.”

“Ah, so you saw me during your speech?”

He flashed you a nervous, toothy grin at your reply. He didn't think that you would make a remark about that. He gulped, shaking his head in disbelief as his face heated up.

“It's... It's hard to not notice, especially with unfamiliar faces, y'know?” He countered, his demeanor quickly changing.

A small laugh escaped your lips as you nodded in understanding, placing your empty wine glass aside. His shoulders slumped in an almost defeated way.

“I believe you, don't worry—”

A sudden voice erupted, “Councilor Jayce, tell us more about your upcoming inventions!”

The enjoyment from the conversation was quick to fade away as Piltovans, specifically interviewers, began to approach Jayce, overwhelming him with all kinds of questions about his inventions and the Hextech gemstones.

“What's your most complex invention of all time?”

“Why hasn't the Hextech company created a Hexstrap?”

Jayce was quickly crowded with questions, losing sight of your figure as the amount of interviewers gradually increased by the second.

“This wasn’t what progress was supposed to feel like,” Jayce thought bitterly, his forced smile faltering as the questions bombarded him.

He watched as people brushed you away as if you were nothing. Frustration bubbled up inside of him as his gaze shifted from one person to another. At this point, they were invading his privacy.

“I—uh, sorry, can't you see that I'm busy?” Jayce grunted, the tone of his voice was filled with hidden anger.

His brows furrowed as he made his way out of the crowd, leaving some Piltovans stunned at his small outburst. He'd never been seen like this—all worked up and hot-headed.

“Sorry, excuse me.” He murmured underneath his breath, trying to not bump into another interviewer.

His mood immediately dropped as he watched you from afar, your back turned against him as you walked to the exit. His eyes widened, almost pleading before he quickened his pace. He didn't care about the eyes that stared daggers into his figure. He kept his gaze on you before managing to catch up to you. Softly, he called out your name, causing your movements to halt.

“Jayce?” You called back, your voice softer than before. “You didn't need to chase—”

“Why're you leaving?” He unintentionally cut you off, his voice breathless.

You fully faced him, watching as his chest heaved up and down. Your eyes met his gaze, the confusion and desperation evident in his hazel eyes.

“Figured that I should rest, I have work to do soon, anyway.” You replied casually.

Jayce paused, disappointment seeping in. “I see. Right, right. Get some rest, okay?”

“Of course, you too.”

“If you don't mind, we can... meet up in the Hextech lab tomorrow? I'll—probably be there for the whole day, with my partner, Viktor. He's... he's a Zaunite, too. We can talk more tomorrow, come anytime, will you?”

The mention of another Zaunite working together with him piqued your interest. You took in his words, nodding along before making up your mind.

“Sounds nice, I'll see you there tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.”

And with that, you withdrew yourself from the conversation. You shot him an appreciative smile, knowing that not all Piltovans were kind enough to even acknowledge the presence of a Zaunite.

His eyes softened, mouth agape as you turned your back on him once again. He didn't know why he felt so... drawn to you. There was something about the way you carried yourself—aloof, yet grounded. You didn't clamor for his attention or approval. You simply existed.

As you disappeared from his sight, he'd noticed the soft look on your face, hiding away the disappointment and hurt from how the Piltovans had pushed you away. His heart was about to burst, the frustration still present inside of him, because deep inside, he understood why the Piltovans had treated you like that—but he wished he hadn't. He shook his head in disbelief, and with a final murmur of your name, he dragged his body back into the Gala.

mini taglist: @blueorchid-rain, @sseleniaa

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work to post it around. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[lilmisssona]

☃︎♡Dynamic And Vibing ☃︎♡

☃︎♡Pairing - Hyunjin × Fem Reader

☃︎♡Plot - You always thought only women got nervous meeting their boyfriend's family, but your boyfriend proves otherwise. He’s adorably stressed about finding the perfect outfit for Christmas dinner, and a shopping trip leads him to a sparkling pair of iconic boots. Little did you know, those boots would be the start of some unexpected holiday drama

☃︎♡Genre - Comedy, Crackhead Energy, Fluff

☃︎♡Warnings - crackhead energy, non idol au, strangers to lovers au, established relationship, comedy, fluffy ,dramatic

☃︎♡Word Count - 8.7K ☃︎♡ Screenshot Count - 1

☃︎♡A/N - Belated Happy New Year! Episode 4 of Staymas is here, and it's all about Hyunjin + chaotic family drama with a side of the sweetest fluff so buckle up! This is just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️

☃︎♡SKZ Masterlist ☃︎♡ Staymas Masterlist

Chuseok at your parents’ house was always a beautiful chaos: comforting, loud, and brimming with life. It was everything you’d missed while studying abroad. For two years, you’d spent the holiday alone in a foreign city, attempting to recreate the flavors of home with store-bought tteok and shaky video calls with your family. But now, finally back in Seoul, the world felt familiar again, as if the missing pieces had finally clicked into place.

The past year had been a whirlwind....finishing your degree, landing a great job, and, most unexpectedly, meeting Hyunjin.

He wasn’t just an artist; he was the artist. The kind of guy who wore paint-streaked hoodies like they were high fashion and could make you laugh until you cried over his “accidental masterpiece” of spilling glitter on his sneakers. Hyunjin had an extraordinary gift for turning the ordinary into unforgettable moments, though most of those moments came with a dose of mild disaster.

But this Chuseok, Hyunjin wasn’t with you. He was neck-deep in preparations for a massive art festival, surviving on caffeine and two hours of sleep a night. Lately, your time together had been reduced to rushed coffee dates and late-night video calls.

“I promise I’ll be there next year,” he had said during one of those calls, holding a paintbrush like he was making a solemn vow. “But this festival…”

“I know,” you had reassured him, even as you wished for his presence now more than ever.

“Gotta go!” he’d added abruptly. “I need to channel my soul into these paintings, babe!”

You’d rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but deep down, you missed him - the chaos, the charm, the electric energy he brought into your life. Being home for Chuseok after two years felt monumental, but you couldn’t shake the wish that he could experience it with you.

Your family? They would’ve either fallen in love with him or been completely bewildered. Probably both.

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

The chaos hit you the moment you stepped through the door of your parents’ house. Your mom’s voice greeted you before her eyes did.

“Close the door before all the heat escapes!” she scolded, not even looking up as she deftly flipped jeon and rolled mandu in the kitchen. The dining table was a vibrant mess of ingredients: bowls of sesame oil, chopped scallions, and a pile of persimmons waiting to be transformed into something beautiful. On the stove, galbijjim simmered away, its rich, savory aroma filling the house.

Your dad was at the table, valiantly attempting to fold rice cakes into their traditional half-moon shapes. As always, his songpyeon were hilariously lopsided, with sweet sesame filling threatening to spill from every edge.

“I think they look artistic,” he said, raising an eyebrow at your mom, who shot him her signature look of disapproval.

You smiled, imagining Hyunjin in this setting. He’d definitely find some poetic beauty in your dad’s uneven creations and probably call them “symbolic of imperfect perfection.”

“These songpyeon look like they need a rescue team,” your brother teased from his corner of the kitchen, where he was supposed to be grilling sweet potatoes. Instead, his phone was firmly in hand while the sweet potatoes burned, their charred skins proof of his negligence.

And then there was your grandmother, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, beaming as soon as her eyes landed on you. “Ah, my big-city granddaughter is back!” she exclaimed, patting the floor beside her. “Do they celebrate Chuseok over there?”

“They have Thanksgiving, Halmeoni. It’s… different,” you said, settling down next to her.

“Thanksgiving?” she repeated, her voice dripping with playful skepticism. “Do they have songpyeon?”

“Nope. That’s why I’m back here.”

“Well, come on, you haven’t forgotten how to shape songpyeon, have you?” she asked, handing you a ball of rice dough.

“I think I have,” you admitted sheepishly, eyeing the tray of perfectly crafted rice cakes.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a wink. “You’ve got me to teach you before you run off again.”

But Halmeoni wasn’t one to sit still for long. Before anyone could stop her, she was up on her feet, a piece of jeon in one hand and a fork in the other. “You don’t get legs like these by sitting around!” she declared, twirling across the room with a flair that belied her years.

Her laughter echoed through the house, and soon you were all joining in, your cheeks sore from smiling.

The house was alive with everything you’d missed - the clatter of pots, the hum of overlapping conversations, your mom’s occasional scolding, and the playful bickering between your brother and dad. After being away for so long, you’d almost forgotten how full, how warm, a home could feel during Chuseok.

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

Later, as you helped your mom set the dishes, you couldn’t help but think of Hyunjin. He would’ve turned the whole process into a comedy sketch, complete with exaggerated groans and theatrical hand gestures. You could almost hear him whining, “Why do mine look like deflated dumplings?” as he somehow managed to get sesame filling smeared all over his face.

At dinner, the table overflowed with every Chuseok dish you’d dreamed about while abroad. Your mom didn’t hold back, piling your plate high with galbijjim, japchae, and perfectly steamed songpyeon.

“Eat, eat,” she urged, watching you with that particular kind of satisfaction only a mother can feel.

“Mom, I can’t eat all of this,” you protested, though you knew you’d try anyway.

“You’ve been living on convenience store food for years. You need to eat properly now,” she said, her tone playful but her eyes filled with concern.

As the meal went on, the chatter and laughter filled the room, with everyone reminiscing about old times and grilling you about your life abroad.

Your brother, his devilish grin fully intact, suddenly decided to strike. “No boyfriend again this year? Does he even exist, or did you make him up?”

“What’s his name again?” your mom asked, peering at you over her glasses.

“Hyunjin,” you replied with a sigh, already exasperated.

“He’s real, bro, by the way,” you added, flicking your brother’s forehead in mock annoyance. “He’s just busy with an art festival.”

“Oh, an artist!” Grandma exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Does he paint bowls of fruit or naked ladies?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Neither, Halmeoni. He’s more… abstract.”

“Abstract? Like splatters of paint on a canvas and calling it deep?” she asked, unimpressed, raising an eyebrow.

“More like…” You hesitated, recalling the time Hyunjin had proudly shown you a painting and described it as “a metaphor for a squirrel discovering capitalism.” Clearing your throat, you finished, “…Yeah, let’s go with that.”

At that moment, your dad set down his chopsticks, his posture shifting into something thoughtful. He leaned back in his chair with the kind of slow deliberation that meant he was about to drop some classic dad-level wisdom.

“This artist boyfriend of yours,” he began, voice low and serious, “does he know how to hold chopsticks properly?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Uh… yes?”

“Good,” your dad said with a solemn nod, as if he’d just concluded a critical evaluation. “Then I want to meet him. Christmas dinner. Bring him over.”

The entire table went silent.

“Wait, what?” you stammered, your heart rate spiking. Was this a heart attack or just sheer panic?

Your brother perked up instantly, a Cheshire grin spreading across his face. “Oh, this is going to be so good,” he said, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Why Christmas?” you asked, your voice rising with desperation.

“Because,” your dad replied matter-of-factly, “I need to see if this ‘artist’ is worthy of my daughter. And Christmas feels right. Festive, but serious.”

“Festive, but serious?” you repeated, incredulous.

“Oh, this is a classic move,” your brother chimed in, clearly savoring your discomfort. “Dad’s going to ask him all the hard-hitting questions. Like, ‘What are your future plans?’ and ‘Do you plan on starving for your art or earning a real income?’”

Your dad shot him a sharp look. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“But you thought it,” your brother teased, not missing a beat.

“Dad,” you began, struggling to keep calm, “Hyunjin is not… he’s not just some random guy. He’s—”

“Exactly,” your dad interrupted. “He’s not some random guy. He’s someone important to you, which means I need to make sure he’s… let’s say, ‘qualified.’”

“Qualified? For what?!”

“For you,” your dad said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your grandma, still contentedly munching on songpyeon, decided it was her turn to chime in. “Oh, don’t scare the poor boy too much. Artists are sensitive, you know. One wrong word, and they’ll write a tragic poem about it.”

“Or paint a metaphor about a squirrel’s heartbreak,” your brother added, snickering.

You groaned, slapping your palm against your face. “He’s never going to agree to this.”

“Oh, he’ll agree,” your dad said confidently, like he’d already won. “If he cares about you, he’ll show up. And don’t worry, I’ll be nice. At first.”

“Dad,” you warned, your voice a mix of disbelief and dread.

“What?” he said innocently, blinking at you. “I just want to get to know the man who might steal my daughter away someday.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, Dad.”

He shrugged, utterly unbothered. “If he can’t handle me, how’s he going to handle the rest of this family?”

Your grandma chuckled knowingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll back him up. Unless he says something stupid.”

“Like what?” you asked, your frustration mounting.

“Oh, you know,” she said airily, waving her hand. “If he starts talking about ‘artistic expression’ and goes on about how it reflects the struggles of the modern soul.”

“That actually sounds like something Hyunjin might say,” you muttered under your breath.

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

The conversation shifted to dessert, but the looming prospect of Hyunjin’s impending “interview” with your dad hung over the room like a storm cloud. Naturally, your brother, ever the instigator, couldn’t resist stirring the pot.

“You know, Dad,” he began, leaning back in his chair with a grin that rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s, “you should start with something dramatic. Like, ‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’”

“Good idea,” your dad replied, stroking his chin as though preparing for a high-stakes interrogation.

You shot them both a withering glare. “This isn’t the 1800s. He’s not proposing with a cow and a handshake.”

“Well, he’d better not come empty-handed,” your mom chimed in, her tone light but firm. “A nice bottle of wine or a fruit basket would do. Something thoughtful.”

“Fruit basket?” your brother echoed, practically doubling over in laughter. “What is he, visiting a hospital?”

Your grandma, completely ignoring him, nodded sagely. “Yes, a fruit basket is good. Grapes show generosity, and apples mean good health.” She paused, then added with utmost seriousness, “But if he brings bananas, I’ll have questions.”

“Halmeoni!” you gasped, nearly choking on your water as your brother descended into uncontrollable laughter.

“What? They’re too casual!” she said, completely unfazed. “Bananas say, ‘I remembered this on the way over.’”

Your dad tapped his chopsticks on the table, like a judge calling for order in court. “Let’s focus here. This young man...Hyunjin, right?—he’s an artist. So, I need to know…” He trailed off dramatically.

“…Know what?” you asked, your patience thinning.

“If he paints with his heart or just his hands.”

“Are you serious?” you asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“Absolutely,” he replied, deadpan. “And if he paints with glitter, we’re going to have a long talk.”

“Why?” your brother asked, barely containing his amusement.

“Because,” your dad said with a grim finality, “glitter is the devil’s confetti. Once it’s in the house, it’s everywhere.”

You slapped a hand to your face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Oh, it’s going to get better,” your brother teased, practically bouncing with glee. “Dad should ask him about his five-year plan. You know, see if he’s planning to be a tortured artist or someone who can actually pay for a date.”

“I pay for dates, thank you very much!” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“Good,” your dad said with a nod of approval. “That means you’ve got a backup plan.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is a disaster.”

“No, no,” your mom said soothingly, patting your shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Just tell him not to take your dad’s poker face too seriously.”

“My poker face?” your dad echoed, visibly offended. “I don’t have a poker face!”

“Yes, you do,” your mom, grandma, and brother said in unison.

Your dad huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. But I’ll keep it light.”

“Define ‘light,’” you demanded, narrowing your eyes.

“I’ll just ask him simple things. Like, does he prefer oil paints or acrylics? Does he have any famous artist friends? And why is he dating my daughter instead of focusing on his career?”

“Dad!”

Your grandma waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t scare him too much. Artists are resilient. They’re like weeds...they’ll grow anywhere.”

Your brother cackled, adding, “Or like glitter. Impossible to get rid of.”

Your dad raised a finger triumphantly. “Exactly. And we’ll see if he’s the kind of glitter we want sticking around.”

That night, as you slipped into your room, still chuckling at your family’s antics, the evening felt like a scene from a sitcom. Your dad’s mock-interrogation plans for Hyunjin, your grandma’s deadpan commentary about “sensitive artists,” and your brother’s relentless teasing played on a loop in your mind.

Beneath the laughter, though, your thoughts wandered to the day you first met Hyunjin.....

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

It had been months ago, during a wedding planning consultation. Your client, overwhelmed by the details, had sent a friend to meet you instead. “Don’t worry, they know everything,” your client had reassured you. “Hyunjin’s a good friend. You’ll be fine.”

You’d arrived at the café expecting someone serious, maybe a bit frazzled but focused. Instead, Hyunjin walked in like he was auditioning for a rom-com. Confidence radiated off him...until he tripped over the rug and went sprawling across the floor in a spectacularly ungraceful tumble.

For a moment, you were too stunned to react, staring as he scrambled to right himself. Then he looked up, grinning, and waved as though this were all part of his plan. “Hi! I’m Hyunjin,” he said cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just wiped out. “I’m here to meet the wedding planner?”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. “That was… an entrance.”

Hyunjin shrugged nonchalantly, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket. “I like to keep things interesting,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But don’t worry...I’m all business now.”

“Business, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Totally,” he said, sitting down and immediately knocking over a sugar packet with his elbow. “The bride sent me. They’re handling the important stuff...catering, keeping Aunt Jeon from overdrinking, you know ? The essentials. I’m here to make sure the wedding’s a masterpiece.”

You stifled a laugh. “A masterpiece? Are you a wedding planner or…?”

“Artist,” he said, leaning back with a dramatic flair. “I paint, sculpt, create installations...basically, I make a mess and call it art.”

“An artist?” you repeated, surprised. “Then how did you end up here, planning a wedding?”

Hyunjin waved a hand as if it were no big deal. “The bride’s my friend. They needed someone with vision, and who better than an artistic genius? I don’t know anything about weddings, but I’m great at making things beautiful.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “So… you’re suggesting we turn a wedding into an art exhibit?”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Like, why have a boring tiered cake when you could have an abstract sculpture? A cake that’s a statement piece!”

“An avant-garde wedding cake?” you teased.

“Why not?” he replied, completely serious. “It’s not just dessert; it’s a metaphor. And seating? Who needs assigned seats? Let people pick where they feel inspired...it’s freedom, an artistic rebellion!”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “You’re really leaning into this chaos, huh?”

“Chaos is just art waiting to happen,” he said with a wink.

The rest of the meeting was a whirlwind of wild ideas, each one more absurd than the last. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but enjoy his infectious energy. Hyunjin was unpredictable, chaotic even, but there was a charm to the way he embraced his quirks so unapologetically.

Over the weeks, he continued showing up to meetings, always armed with another outlandish idea. You never knew what to expect, but his presence made the planning process more fun than you’d anticipated.

One rainy afternoon, as you walked back from yet another meeting, a car sped through a puddle, sending water flying toward you. Before you could react, Hyunjin darted forward, attempting to shield you. Instead, he caught the full force of the splash.

Soaked from head to toe, he turned to you with an apologetic grin. “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Next time, maybe skip the heroics?”

Hyunjin shrugged, dripping water but still smiling. “Hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

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

After that day, you and Hyunjin started spending more and more time together. Between wedding meetings, he’d randomly show up with plans for coffee runs, surprise visits to art galleries, and quirky little outings. Whether he was making you laugh unintentionally or with deliberate mischief, you found yourself falling for him, one laugh at a time.

One particularly stressful day, you were drowning in wedding prep, timelines, budgets, and last-minute crises piled high on your desk. Hyunjin waltzed in unannounced, his usual grin plastered across his face.

“You look like you need a break,” he said, pulling up a chair beside you. “How about a little distraction?”

You sighed, leaning back in frustration. “I don’t have time for distractions, Hyunjin. The wedding is in three days, and everything is falling apart.”

He tilted his head, studying you thoughtfully. “Okay, counteroffer: one hour at an art gallery. I promise it’ll clear your head.”

You frowned, torn between the mountain of work and the temptation in his eyes. Finally, you relented. “Fine. One hour.”

One hour turned into two. By the time you returned, the weight of your stress had lifted, replaced by the calm and joy of Hyunjin’s chaos. His ability to ease your burdens with simple, thoughtful gestures was just one of the many reasons you’d started to fall for him.

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

The months with Hyunjin had been a whirlwind of laughter, spontaneity, and moments that left you breathless. It wasn’t just his charm or his creativity that captured your heart-it was how he made the mundane feel extraordinary, as if life itself were art, waiting to be experienced.

That magic followed you tonight as the two of you wandered along the Han River under a warm, starlit sky. The breeze carried the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of cicadas. Lanterns strung along the walkway cast a golden glow, illuminating his face as he animatedly talked about his latest project...a series of paintings inspired by emotions that couldn’t be put into words.

“One of them is all jagged, sharp strokes for when you want to laugh and cry at the same time,” he explained, gesturing enthusiastically. “And another is this swirl of soft, pastel shades...it’s supposed to feel like when you’re overwhelmed but kind of happy about it. It’s chaos, but that’s the beauty of it!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Hyunjin, your whole life is chaos. How do you manage to make it look so effortless?”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling like the river reflecting the city lights. “That’s the secret! Chaos isn’t something you manage...it’s something you embrace. Like a dance.”

“A dance?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “So, my life should be an interpretive dance of chaos?”

“Exactly!” he said, snapping his fingers as if he’d made a groundbreaking discovery. “And who better to teach you than me, the master of chaos?”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming, you mean?” he quipped, his dimples making an appearance as he flashed you his signature cheeky grin.

But before you could retort, he stopped walking, his expression shifting into something softer, almost hesitant. The playful light in his eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

“Actually…” he began, his voice quieter now, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What is it?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’d come to recognize. “I know I’ve been a bit of a whirlwind...crashing into your life with all my ridiculous ideas and dragging you into my chaos. But through it all, I’ve had the absolute best time getting to know you. And… I don’t want it to end.”

Your breath hitched, his words settling over you like a warm summer breeze.

“So,” he continued, stepping a little closer, “will you go on a date with me? A real one. No brainstorming, no interruptions...just you and me.”

You blinked, caught between surprise and the warmth blooming in your chest. “A real date?” you repeated, pretending to deliberate. “Does that mean I finally get a break from your creative chaos?”

He laughed, the sound light and full of relief. “I can’t promise that,” he admitted with a lopsided grin, “but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. Controlled chaos.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you smiled at him. “Alright, Hyunjin. I’ll go on a date with you.”

The joy that lit up his face was brighter than the lanterns around you. He let out a breath he’d clearly been holding, his grin widening until it reached his eyes. “Really? You will?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, feeling your cheeks heat under his gaze. “But remember! you promised me controlled chaos.”

“Deal,” he said, his laughter carrying through the warm night air.

Then, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Your heart raced as you nodded, unable to speak.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice trembling with nervousness.

“Because I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, and I just… I can’t wait anymore.”

The sincerity in his eyes made it impossible to resist. You nodded again, your breath catching as the world seemed to slow around you.

The smile that spread across his face was gentle and full of warmth. His hands reached up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “I’m kind of terrified right now,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice just as quiet.

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was everything you didn’t know you needed - soft, warm, and filled with unspoken emotions that made your heart soar. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as if he was afraid to let go. The warm breeze swirled around you, carrying the faint scent of flowers and the promise of something new.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a breathless laugh. “I didn’t mess that up, did I?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled, your hands resting on his chest. “Not even a little.”

His laughter bubbled up again, and he pulled you into a tight hug, his joy so infectious you couldn’t help but laugh along. As you stood there, wrapped in his arms beneath the warm summer sky, you realized something: Hyunjin wasn’t just chaos...he was your chaos. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

Fast forward to now, as you lay in bed scrolling through your phone, a fond smile tugged at your lips as you reminisced about how you met Hyunjin. Suddenly, your screen lit up with an incoming call, his name flashing across it. Without hesitation, you answered.

“Have you eaten?” he asked immediately, his voice warm and familiar, like a favorite melody.

You laughed softly. “Yes, Hyunjin, I’ve eaten. Have you?”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Barely. Today was insane. The exhibition was pure chaos..like, actual chaos. One of the canvases fell off the wall mid-display, someone tripped over the lighting cords, and, oh, let’s not forget when I spilled paint on the gallery owner’s shoes.”

You winced, barely stifling a laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault my art invites so much… energy,” he defended, though the amusement in his voice was impossible to miss. “Anyway, how was Chuseok without me? Did your family miss me?”

“Oh, you know,” you teased, “the usual chaos: food, teasing, and… questions about you.”

“About me?” he asked cautiously, suspicion creeping into his tone. “What kind of questions?”

You hesitated, knowing his reaction would be priceless. “Well… my family wants to meet you. On Christmas.”

There was a brief pause. “They what?”

“They want to meet you,” you repeated, biting back a grin.

Hyunjin groaned dramatically. “Like, face-to-face? ‘Sit-down-and-talk-about-my-life’ meet me?”

“Exactly,” you said, barely suppressing your laughter.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “This is bad. Your dad’s going to grill me like I’m the main course. He’s probably already drafting a list of questions about my job, and when I panic and start talking about spaghetti metaphors, it’s all going to spiral. Your brother will just sit there smirking, waiting for me to mess up. And your grandma… she’s going to judge me for the way I hold chopsticks, isn’t she?”

You burst into laughter. “Relax, Hyunjin. My grandma only cares about two things: whether you bring good wine and if your fruit basket game is strong.”

“Wait, what?” he asked, his voice laced with panic. “I have to bring a fruit basket and wine? Is this a Christmas dinner or a survival challenge?”

“It’s festive but serious,” you replied, grinning. “Dad calls it:

‘An occasion for celebration and evaluation’

Which is basically code for: let’s judge you while enjoying ham.”

Hyunjin groaned again. “Why does your dad sound like he’s hosting auditions for the role of son-in-law?”

“Because he kind of is,” you teased, trying not to laugh at his distress.

“Great,” he deadpanned. “I’m walking into a festive firing squad. And I have to come armed with fruit and wine? Do they prefer a classic fruit basket or something more avant-garde? Should I arrange it in the shape of a Christmas tree? Or is that too much?”

“You’re overthinking it,” you assured him, still grinning. “Just grab some nice apples and oranges. Maybe throw in a pear or two for flair.”

“And the wine?” he asked, his voice rising in panic again. “Red or white? Sweet or dry? What if your dad secretly prefers whiskey and silently judges me for bringing wine? What if your grandma’s secretly a sommelier and I offend her with a cheap bottle?”

“Hyunjin,” you said, struggling to keep a straight face, “my grandma thinks boxed wine is fancy. You’ll be fine.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Okay, fruit basket, wine. Got it. Anything else? Do I need to dress up? Is there a secret handshake? Should I prepare a speech?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Just be yourself. Chaotic, but respectful chaos, remember?”

“Respectful chaos,” he repeated as if it were a mantra. “Alright. I can do this. But if your dad starts grilling me and I start rambling about spaghetti metaphors, you better jump in and save me.”

“Deal,” you said, still laughing.

“And if I survive this dinner,” he added mischievously, “you owe me a nice, peaceful date. No questions, no interrogations.”

“Deal,” you agreed.

As you hung up, you could already picture Hyunjin wandering through a store, agonizing over fruit basket aesthetics and wine labels. You knew Christmas dinner would be chaotic...after all, it always was. But with Hyunjin? It would be a chaos you wouldn’t trade for anything...

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

You used to think meeting a significant other’s family was nerve-wracking only for women. Oh, how wrong you were. In your case, it was your boyfriend, Hyunjin, who was spiraling into a full-blown, Oscar-worthy meltdown about Christmas dinner with your family.

Currently, you were perched on his bed, cross-legged, watching the spectacle unfold with a mix of amusement and secondhand anxiety. Hyunjin was on his third frantic lap through his closet, tossing sweaters and shirts around like a tornado. You leaned back against the pillows, silently debating whether to intervene or just let him burn off his dramatic energy.

“Hyunjin,” you finally said, trying to sound soothing, “it’s just dinner, not the Met Gala.”

He whirled around, clutching two wildly different sweaters: a classic black one and something that looked like it had been stolen from an 80s ski lodge. His face was the epitome of despair. “Just dinner? Do you understand what’s at stake here? This is Christmas dinner! Your dad is going to interrogate me like he’s hosting a true-crime podcast. He’ll ask about my job, my future, my intentions, and when I inevitably panic, I’ll start talking about spaghetti metaphors!”

“Spaghetti metaphors?” you repeated, biting back a laugh.

“Yes, it’s a thing!” He threw the black sweater onto the floor with a dramatic flourish. “When I get nervous, I talk in analogies. And somehow, everything ends up being about pasta. Last time I described my art process as ‘like boiling spaghetti,’ and the gallery owner looked like he wanted to fire me on the spot.”

By now, you were laughing so hard your stomach hurt. “Okay, so my dad might ask a few questions....”

“A few questions?!” he interrupted, his hands flying to his hair. “Your dad is going to stare into my soul, your brother is going to roast me like a Christmas ham, and your grandma...oh god, your grandma! She’s going to judge me for how I hold my chopsticks, isn’t she? Is there a secret technique? Should I start practicing now?”

“Relax,” you said between giggles. “Grandma doesn’t care about chopsticks. She cares about two things: if you bring good wine and if your fruit basket game is good or not. "

“Wine and fruit basket. Got it,” he said, nodding like he was preparing for battle. “Okay, one disaster averted. But what about my outfit? I can’t just show up looking like I rolled out of bed. I need to look… professional. No, wait—approachable. Charming. Like the perfect boyfriend. Do I look like the perfect boyfriend in this sweater?” He gestured to the ski-lodge monstrosity he was now wearing.

“Honestly?” you said, grinning. “You look like a backup dancer for an 80s Christmas music video.”

“Great,” he groaned, tossing the sweater aside. “I’m doomed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Or… we could just go to the mall and find something nice. Something that says ‘respectable artist’ instead of ‘escaped circus performer.’”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Mall? Yes. Let’s go. I can feel it—I’m going to find the perfect outfit.”

Fast forward to the mall, where Hyunjin had already tried on and rejected half the men’s section. Three blazers, two turtlenecks, and enough dress shirts to outfit a boy band later, you were starting to lose hope.

And then it happened.

You saw it before Hyunjin did...a pair of metallic, shimmering boots that practically glowed under the store lights.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, already sensing doom.

But Hyunjin’s eyes widened with pure delight. “Oh yes,” he whispered, making a beeline for the display.

“Hyunjin, no,” you said firmly, following after him.

“Hyunjin, yes!” he countered, picking up one of the boots like it was the Holy Grail. “These boots are everything. They’re bold, they’re iconic, they scream ‘fearless boyfriend.’”

“They scream ‘disco ball meets midlife crisis,’” you deadpanned, staring at the blindingly shiny boots.

“Your family will love them!” he said, slipping one on and striking a pose. “Look at this. I’m making a statement.”

“Yeah, the statement is, ‘Please stop staring at my feet,’” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

A sales assistant wandered over, clearly trying not to laugh. “Those are… bold,” she said diplomatically.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin replied, beaming. “I’ll take them.”

“Hyunjin, no!” you protested, but it was too late. He was already at the counter, handing over his credit card like he’d just won the lottery.

As you left the store, Hyunjin practically skipping with his shiny new boots, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You know,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “your family is going to remember me forever.”

“Oh, they’ll remember you,” you said. “They might even still be talking about you next Christmas.”

“Good,” he replied with that signature grin. “First impressions matter.”

“You do realize my dad’s going to ask you about your job, right? While you’re wearing those?”

“Exactly!” he said, his grin widening. “When I tell him I’m an artist, the boots will speak for themselves. They say, ‘This man is fearless.’”

You groaned, shaking your head. “You’re killing me, Hyunjin.”

And as you both walked toward the parking lot, Hyunjin proudly clutching his shiny new boots like they were priceless treasures, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and dread. Christmas dinner with your family was already shaping up to be an unforgettable event...though whether for good or chaotic reasons remained to be seen...

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

“Alright, so we’ve got the boots,” you said, trying to suppress a grin. “But there’s still one tiny thing left to handle: the fruit basket.”

“Yes, the fruit basket,” he repeated, nodding seriously. Then, with a sudden drop in his voice, he added, “I really hope I don’t mess it up.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing at his dramatic tone. “It’s fruit, Hyunjin. Not a job interview. Let’s just find something nice and call it a day.”

The two of you headed to a fancy grocery store, where Hyunjin immediately locked eyes with the aisles of meticulously arranged fruits. To him, it seemed, this was no ordinary shopping trip. He surveyed the scene like a warrior choosing his weapon for battle.

“I’ve never felt so much pressure over fruit,” he muttered, holding up an apple like it was a rare artifact. “Do you think this one says, ‘I’m responsible and thoughtful’?”

“It’s just an apple,” you replied, trying to keep him grounded.

“But it’s the apple,” he insisted, turning it over in his hands. “It needs to symbolize my commitment to this dinner. The apple is my ticket to acceptance!”

You watched as he placed the perfectly fine apple back and instead grabbed a comically oversized one, clearly trying to make a statement. “Hyunjin, it’s a fruit basket, not a résumé.”

After what felt like an eternity of inspecting, analyzing, and overthinking every piece of produce, you finally settled on an assortment. Hyunjin proudly selected a particularly dramatic pineapple, claiming it “looked artistic” and would anchor the whole basket.

At checkout, his confidence was back in full force. “I think I nailed it,” he said, beaming. “This fruit basket says, ‘I’m here for family, but I’m also a little extra.’”

“Perfect,” you said, nodding. “Now just don’t forget the most important part of Christmas dinner.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his curiosity genuine.

“Grandma’s dance,” you said casually.

His face fell instantly. “What?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised,” you teased. “Every year, after dinner, my grandma gets up and does her little dance. It’s her tradition.”

“No,” he said, wide-eyed and panicked. “Please, no. I can’t do this. I can’t even dance in front of you, let alone an audience.”

“Sorry, but you’re in it now,” you said, smirking. You could already picture the scene...your grandma in her festive red sweater and apron, hopping and twirling around the living room with surprising energy.

“You’re telling me... your grandma dances?” Hyunjin asked, his disbelief apparent.

“Yep,” you said, barely holding back your laughter. “And she’s good at it. Don’t be shocked if she pulls you up to join her.”

Hyunjin looked like he was seriously considering fleeing. “This is my worst nightmare.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, nudging him. “It’ll be fun. You’ll blend right in.”

“Blend in? Wearing shiny boots and holding a fruit basket, dancing with your grandma in front of your entire family? Sure, what could go wrong?” he muttered, shaking his head in despair.

“Exactly. Nothing to worry about,” you said with a grin.

He shot you a look. “If I trip, I’m blaming the boots.”

“And I’ll be in the front row with my camera,” you teased, watching him glare at the boots like they were both his greatest triumph and his downfall.

“Great,” he sighed dramatically. “Immortalized forever on your grandma’s Instagram: shiny boots, fruit basket, and all. Perfect.”

You laughed as you both headed back to your place, bracing for the chaos to come. Between Hyunjin’s flair for theatrics, your grandma’s impromptu dance moves, and a family that wouldn’t let anything slide, Christmas dinner was bound to be a spectacle.

But as you glanced over at him, shiny boots and pineapple in tow, you couldn’t help but smile. If anyone could survive the night...and somehow make it charming...it was Hyunjin. Chaos, quirks, and all...

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

As you and Hyunjin approached your family’s front door, his steps growing slower with every inch closer. For the fifth time since leaving the car, he adjusted the fruit basket in his hands. “Do you think the pineapple’s too much?” he asked, glancing nervously at the artfully arranged assortment.

You turned to face him, stifling a laugh. “Hyunjin, it’s a fruit basket, not a dowry. Relax.”

He sighed, unconvinced. “But what if your dad thinks the pineapple is, I don’t know, pretentious? Or worse!, what if he hates mangoes?”

“Who hates mangoes?” you asked, amused.

“I don’t know!” he whispered dramatically, his eyes wide. “I just really want to make a good impression.”

“You’ll be fine,” you said, reaching up to straighten his slightly crooked tie. “Just be yourself.”

He shot you a skeptical look. “Being myself has historically led to chaos.”

“Lucky for you, my family thrives on chaos,” you teased, giving him an encouraging smile before ringing the doorbell.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing your grandma, her face lighting up when she saw you. “There’s my favorite granddaughter!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a quick hug before her gaze shifted to Hyunjin. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And who’s this tall drink of water?”

Hyunjin, caught off guard, thrust the fruit basket and bottle of wine toward her like peace offerings. “Hello, ma’am. I brought this for your family. The fruit selection is... uh, curated.”

Grandma took the basket, inspecting it like it was a work of art. “Curated, you say? Well, look at this pineapple...very artistic. You’ve got an eye for detail, young man.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hyunjin said, bowing slightly.

“And wine, too?” she added, holding up the bottle. “Now we’re talking. Come in, you’re already off to a good start.”

As you stepped inside, Hyunjin scanned the room, taking in the cozy chaos of your family’s Christmas decor. Twinkling lights covered every surface, stockings hung unevenly on the mantel, and the Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, laden with mismatched ornaments.

But before he could comment on the festive ambiance, his shiny boots betrayed him. He slipped on the polished floor, flailing for balance until his arm instinctively grabbed the closest thing - your beloved Christmas tree.

Grandma, still holding the fruit basket, let out a laugh that echoed through the room. “Well, that’s certainly one way to make an entrance.”

Hyunjin quickly let go of the tree, brushing pine needles off his sleeve with an embarrassed grin. “Honestly, it’s a very... huggable tree.”

Your dad, watching the scene unfold from his armchair, raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “So, this is the boyfriend?”

“Yes, Dad,” you said quickly, stepping in before Hyunjin could spiral. “This is Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin straightened up under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. “Sir,” he said respectfully, bowing.

Before your dad could say anything, your mom entered from the kitchen, her festive apron dusted with flour. “Hyunjin, welcome! You’ve already charmed Mom with that fruit basket, so you’re doing well so far.”

Hyunjin gave a small, nervous smile. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m happy to be here.”

“Let’s see how long that lasts,” your brother said as he strolled in, a smirk on his face. He gestured toward the tree. “Hugging the decorations already? Bold choice.”

“It was... an artistic reflex,” Hyunjin replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your dad cleared his throat, the room falling silent as he leaned back in his chair. “Hyunjin, let’s talk. What do you do for a living?”

Hyunjin hesitated for a moment, glancing at you for reassurance. “I’m an artist, sir. I specialize in abstract painting.”

“Abstract painting,” your dad repeated, his tone even. “Interesting. How does one make a career out of that?”

Hyunjin straightened his shoulders, his voice steady. “I showcase my work in galleries and take on commissions. It’s about creating connections and telling stories through colors and forms.”

Your brother let out a snort. “So... finger painting for grown-ups?”

You glared at him, but before you could defend Hyunjin, he laughed. “Not quite, but I’ll admit it can get messy sometimes.”

“Messy, huh?” your dad said, leaning back in his chair, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “And what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Hyunjin’s face turned a shade redder than the poinsettias on the table. “My intentions are... entirely honorable, sir. I care about her deeply, and I...”

“Want to hug her like the tree?” your brother cut in, earning a sharp glare from you and a chuckle from your mom.

“Enough teasing,” your mom said, stepping in to rescue him. She smiled at Hyunjin. “For what it’s worth, I like you. Anyone who can handle my mom’s humor and not run for the hills is good in my book.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hyunjin replied, his relief evident.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” your grandma piped up, a mischievous glint in her eye. “There’s one final test. Every Christmas, we dance. And since you’re part of this gathering now, you’re up.”

“Dance?” Hyunjin repeated, his voice rising slightly in pitch.

“Oh, yes,” your grandma said as she made her way to the stereo. “You’re going to have to keep up with me.”

Your brother leaned back on the couch, smirking. “This is going to be epic. Grandma’s got moves.”

Your dad crossed his arms, an amused glint in his eyes. “Consider it part of your initiation.”

Hyunjin shot you a look of pure desperation as festive music began to play. “You’re not going to save me, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said, laughing.

With surprising agility, your grandma started twirling across the room, her movements almost defying her age. Hyunjin took a deep breath and hesitantly joined her. What followed was a chaotic, laugh-out-loud performance as Hyunjin tried to keep up with your grandma’s energetic spins and dips. He stumbled through a few steps, narrowly avoided tripping over a stray stocking, and accidentally sent a candy cane flying off the tree.

Your brother was in hysterics, snapping photos. “This is comedy gold. I’m framing this.”

Your mom leaned toward you, her expression warm. “He’s charming,” she whispered. “I think he’s a keeper.”

You smiled, watching Hyunjin finish the dance with a dramatic, albeit unsteady, flourish. “I think so too.”

Panting but triumphant, Hyunjin received a hearty clap on the back from your grandma. “Not bad, artist boy,” she said with a grin. “You’ve got spirit.”

Hyunjin gave a shaky thumbs-up, still catching his breath. “I told you... I’m dynamic... and vibing.”

The room erupted into laughter, filling the space with the kind of warmth only family can create.

As the laughter subsided, Hyunjin collapsed into the nearest chair, wiping his brow. “Your grandma should be a dance instructor,” he said, still smiling. “I feel like I just survived an audition for Dancing with the Stars.”

Your grandma smirked, pouring herself a glass of wine. “Oh, honey, if you think that was tough, wait until I challenge you to a salsa battle next year.”

“Next year?” Hyunjin repeated, his eyes wide as he looked at you for backup.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, patting his shoulder. “You’ll have a whole year to practice.”

Your brother, still scrolling through the pictures he’d taken, held up his phone. “I’m definitely printing this one,” he said, showing a particularly unflattering shot of Hyunjin mid-spin, arms flailing wildly.

Hyunjin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is going to haunt me forever, isn’t it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” your brother replied, grinning. “I’m thinking Christmas cards. Maybe even a calendar.”

Your dad, who had been quietly observing the chaos with a faint smile, finally spoke up. “All right, enough tormenting the poor guy. Let’s move on to dinner. I’m starving.”

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

Your mom emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tray of appetizers with practiced ease. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she said, setting the tray down. “In the meantime, why don’t we all sit and let Hyunjin catch his breath?”

As everyone moved toward the dining table, Hyunjin leaned in close to you. “Your family is... something else,” he murmured, equal parts amused and overwhelmed.

“They like you,” you whispered back, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. “Even my brother. This is just how they test people.”

“Test me?” he asked, arching a brow. “I feel like I’ve just survived an Olympic event.”

“Consider it a rite of passage,” you said with a grin.

Once everyone was seated, your dad picked up where he’d left off, his tone now more conversational. “So, Hyunjin, tell me more about your art. Where do you find your inspiration?”

Hyunjin straightened up, clearly more comfortable with the question. “A lot of my inspiration comes from emotions - joy, chaos, even moments like this,” he said, gesturing to the lively scene around the table. “I try to capture the energy of an experience and translate it visually.”

Your grandma, mid-bite of a canapé, perked up. “So, you’d paint this? A Christmas dinner with a fruit basket centerpiece and a tree barely standing after you hugged it?”

Hyunjin laughed. “Exactly. I’d call it Festive Mayhem.”

Your brother smirked. “Can I be in it? As the voice of reason, obviously.”

You rolled your eyes. “Voice of reason? You’re the cause of most of the chaos.”

“Hey,” your brother said, holding up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just making sure the boyfriend is worthy of my favorite sister.”

“I’m your only sister,” you shot back.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” he replied with a wink.

Your dad chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, Hyunjin, you’ve made it through the dance floor and my questions. That’s no small accomplishment.”

“And you’ve won over Grandma,” your mom added with a warm smile. “That might be the hardest part.”

Hyunjin let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Honestly, I was prepared to sneak out of here in the fruit basket if things went south.”

Your grandma raised her glass, eyes twinkling. “To Hyunjin and his shiny boots! May they carry him through many more family gatherings.”

“Hear, hear!” your brother chimed in, lifting his mug of hot chocolate.

Hyunjin laughed, finally letting his guard down as he clinked glasses with everyone. As dinner was served and the conversation turned to lighter topics, he leaned over to you again, his tone softer. “You were right,” he said, smiling. “Your family thrives on chaos... but I kind of love it.”

You glanced around the table....your dad telling one of his signature groan-worthy Christmas jokes, your mom debating recipes with your grandma, and your brother mock-arguing over the “correct” way to hang tinsel...and smiled. “I told you they’d like you.”

Hyunjin’s fingers found yours under the table, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I’m starting to like them too. Even your brother. Sort of.”

“High praise,” you teased, nudging him lightly.

By the time dessert was served and gifts were exchanged, Hyunjin was laughing alongside your family as if he’d been part of it for years. Your grandma even roped him into another impromptu salsa dance, which he tackled with much more confidence and far fewer collisions.

----------------------------------‐-----------------------

After dinner, the house buzzed with the warmth of a festive afterglow. The hum of your family’s laughter and chatter filled the living room, but you and Hyunjin slipped upstairs to your bedroom, seeking a moment of quiet amidst the chaos.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the lively sounds from downstairs became a muffled hum. Hyunjin leaned back against the door, exhaling dramatically. “That was... an experience,” he said with a breathy laugh, his face a mix of relief and amusement.

You smiled, crossing the room to him. “An experience, huh? That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Okay, fine. It was borderline chaotic. But also kind of amazing.”

You laughed softly, reaching out to brush a stray pine needle off his shoulder. “You survived. That’s what counts.”

“Survived?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I conquered. Well, maybe stumbled my way through, but still...points for effort?”

You chuckled, leaning against him. “You more than earned your points. My family already adores you...pineapple and all.”

Hyunjin’s face softened, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “Your family is wild, but I can see where you get it from. They’re... wonderful.”

His arms found their way around you, pulling you into a cozy hug. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The whirlwind of the evening melted away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, perfect moment.

“Thank you for tonight,” you murmured, your voice soft against the fabric of his sweater. “For putting up with my brother’s teasing, Grandma’s dancing, and everything in between.”

Hyunjin chuckled, his chest vibrating lightly under your cheek. “Honestly? I loved every second of it. Even the salsa battle I wasn’t prepared for.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your smile widening. “You were amazing out there. I mean, the tree might not agree, but still.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart flutter. “I was just giving the tree some love. It looked lonely.”

You playfully swatted his arm, and he caught your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Seriously, though,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’d go through all the chaos in the world if it meant being with you.”

The sincerity in his words made your cheeks warm, and you felt your heart swell. “You’re too good to be true,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Me too. Chaos and all, this is one of the best nights I’ve ever had.”

The distant sounds of your family’s laughter drifted up the stairs, a warm reminder of the love and joy that had filled the evening. But here, in this quiet bubble with Hyunjin, it felt like time had slowed. His gaze dropped to your lips, and his hand came up to gently cradle your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with emotion.

Your breath caught, and you nodded, unable to hide your smile. “You don’t have to ask.”

His lips curved into a soft smile before he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was tender, sweet, and slow, like he was pouring every unspoken word and feeling into it. The world seemed to blur and quiet around you, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the taste of his kiss.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes still closed. “You make all of this worth it,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of sincerity.

Your heart swelled, and you smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re worth it too.”

Hyunjin laughed lightly, the sound vibrating between you. “Are you sure you’re not a dream? Because this feels too good to be real.”

“If I’m a dream, then don’t wake up,” you teased, your voice playful but full of affection.

He grinned, stealing one more quick kiss before pulling you back into his arms. And as the muffled sounds of your family’s laughter continued downstairs, you stayed wrapped up in the quiet joy of this perfect moment with him, knowing it was one you’d never forget....

☃︎♡ Bonus - Man's so hot he really makes even shiny boots and shiny pants stand out with an artistic impression 😌🤌😍🫠 ( Like how can you not drool 🫣)

☃︎♡Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve   @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek @oreoqueen @freekyfangirl

Comment your @ If you wish to be added or removed from this list ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

☃︎♡ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

[romanscool]

Hey I love ur stories so I was wondering if u could give me recommendations for the best AO3 MAXIEL stories you've read if u don't mind, thnx 💜💜

hi anon! thank you so much for this ask!! I always love recommending maxiel stories,,,

i have way too much, but I've tried to skim through them and pull out the ones I could read over and over again without ever being bored of it. so anyways, here you go, my fav 13 maxiel fics in no particular order:

I know your name (but not who you are) by @prongsofficial (rated G)

“Hi, Daniel,” the man at his door says, tentative with a sideways smile. There’s sweat on his hairline and two cage-like boxes in his hands. He hears a meowing come out of them when he shifts to set them down. “Max,” Daniel breathes out, floored and caught in the way Max rubs at his own arm awkwardly. Max just smiles. -- Based on the Stick Season (Forever) album by Noah Kahan

a hauntingly beautiful nine-chapter non-linear fic about what could've happened if Daniel had to retire after his hand injury in Zandvoort 2023. Gorgeous. Just the right amount of angst, fluff and crushing dialogues.

dead heat by @powerful-owl (rated E)

"Oh my god. Okay, you’re an alpha. Yeah, Max? You’re an alpha?” Max looks up, tongue lapping at the webbing between Daniel’s fingers. He waits for his thoughts to print into words: paper roll unfurling, sticky nozzles stamping please, need, yours. He just nods. “You’re an alpha.” Daniel laughs, reedy and weird. “Max, what the fuck. Why are you on your knees?”

I'm not usually into a/b/o fics but this one. this hit and still hits me everyday. I have read it almost three times now (keep in mind this is a 35-chapters/200k words fic) and I can't believe how well written it is. the smut is beautiful, angsty and punch-to-the-gut. worth every seconds spent reading it. I also really liked the fact that this is not your traditional a/b/o dynamics, with the little weak omega getting roughly fucked by perma-rut alpha. nope. it's so much more.

breaking every rule for you by @magicalrocketships (rated E)

Daniel's always been competitive. He's never backed down from a challenge, even if it's one he doesn't understand the rules of and doesn't remember signing up for. But he knows this: if Max sends him a dick pic, then Daniel sends one back. Or, it’s Daniel's first year at Renault, and Max hasn't spoken to him in months.

soul-cushing, kink-finding, whatever the fuck even fic. no words to describe this one I think. it's messed my brain up. anyway. 200k words of max and Daniel being idiots, max with a girlfriend he doesn't love and Daniel not accepting he's in love with max. all that while sending dick pics everyday. hot. beautiful. made me cry and bite into my own arm because of how I wish I could just grip both their heads and smash them like barbies so they can kiss.

that's where I am by @flawlessassholes (rated E)

“Her name is Emily,” Daniel says softly. Max’s eyes snap down to the baby, still sleeping on Daniel’s chest. It’s—she’s snoring a little. In that snuffly way that babies snore. “Short for Emilian.” His eyes snap back to Daniel’s face, so serious, and Max knows it’s a joke, of course, but he still opens his mouth to say— Then Daniel’s face breaks into that wide grin, the real one, the one Max hasn’t seen since. Well. In a while. It feels at once so familiar, and also like seeing something rise from the dead.

There’s a month between Melbourne and Baku. A month to convince Daniel to return to racing. A month to learn and relearn how to love. A month for everything to feel right amidst a season that has felt nothing but wrong. A month to create a family, and a month to maybe lose it all.

daniel has a baby and max learns how to deal with that. all that while Emily (dan's kid) is the cutest baby ever. made my heart ache in the best way, had me having a baby-fever for 8 chapters. the smut is gorgeous, the story had me weeping and I could not believe how someone could even come up with such a well-rounded idea. gorgeous.

haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? by vivienne_xoxo (rated E)

Daniel is on the verge of quite possibly nothing in his last year of high school. Max is on the verge of everything in his sophomore year. The one thing that connects them is soccer, squash, and track and field. Being at different schools, they only see each other once per season for games. However, they find themselves meeting in the spaces between, unknowing of what it all really meant. As Daniel nears graduation with a GPA of a whopping 2.0, a sexuality crisis, and a blonde twisted in his bedsheets and his brain, the one thing he really knows is that he's so, so fucked. OR: A sports rivals with benefits, strangers to lovers Maxiel fic that no one really wanted. Literally just the school I go to right now but with changed names.

everything a teen!maxiel fic could ever want to be. teens in love, max and Daniel going through everything that comes with that. sexuality crises all over the place, hormones, too. love it. this is the fic that made me want to start my own teen!maxiel. it's funny, angsty, has way too many crack-worthy dialogue. I love it.

a sure thing by @thewindowatkirkland (rated E)

Afterwards, once they’ve headed back inside on unsteady legs and showered in Max’s insane ensuite, Daniel pulls on his clothes and watches Max do the same. He’s always quieter after sex, once the adrenaline and dopamine have receded some. Daniel gets it, the whole hooker thing is more awkward for most people once the fucking is actually over. “How much do you charge for a full night?” Max asks, after he transfers the fee for today, the little notification pinging on Daniel’s phone. M. E. Verstappen has sent you a payment. Daniel doesn't bother to check the amount, Max will have rounded it up to the nearest thousand anyway, just like he always does. OR: daniel is an escort, max is a five time world champion, and also one of his regular clients. (aka, the hooker!dan au)

gorgeous. no words. 30k of hooker!Daniel that had me going a little crazy. so many good smut scenes, so many insane dialogues, so many insane angsty moments that aren't angst but feel like it... love love love it. I've read it a couple times already and it always has me on the floor. beautiful and breathtakingly so.

growing sideways by @thewindowatkirkland (rated E)

“We’re in Monaco,” Max says, “and you haven’t lived in either of those places for a very long time, Daniel. Since 2013.” It must be fucking amnesia, Daniel reasons, because when he went to bed last night it was July 2012. And here a grown up Max Verstappen is, telling him 2013 was a very long time ago. OR: daniel wakes up in a bed he doesn’t recognise, next to a man he doesn’t know.

what if Daniel woke up as his 2012 self with braces and awkward limbs but he's in his 2024 self bed, next to his 2024 self boyfriend (max) and he can't understand how any of this is happening? that's it. that's the plot. loved the little references, the race watching, the max trying to make Daniel learn everything they've had since 2012. the virgin smut. hot. but. everything about this fic is so, so sweet. it's gentle. like a hug after a long day, it takes you in and you never want to let go, especially because it has Daniel's fucked up teeth/braces in it. (joking but you know how I am with teeth, right?)

(just let me) adore you by @sillystappen (rated G)

One night, Max confronts the monster under his daughter's bed. Turns out, that monster is a very kind mothman called Daniel.

adorable. mothman!daniel (beautiful, beautiful, woah) takes car of max's daughter because other monsters might want to hurt her. so, so sweet. max is gentle but obsessed, and who can blame him even, Daniel is gentle, gentle, gentle, and caring, and so. argh. sorry. I'm obsessed with the fluff, the daughter, the developing bond between max and moth!Daniel. short and so cute.

auditory stimulator by togenkyo (rated E)

There are no rules for falling in love. It can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere. Max may not be well experienced in love, but he's pretty sure that "Falling in love with a guy you met when you accidentally picked up the phone at a sex hotline." should be a rule.

so funny. had me giggling in a public space over silly roommates trying to get max laid/in a couple. so fun and quirky, really had pulled in from seeing 'Phone Sex Operators' in the tags. I'm glad I read this. great dialogue, story and characters.

hey, remember that time by @powerful-owl (rated E)

There’s a snowstorm outside and a snowstorm in Max’s head. “Yes, okay. What.” “I think I’m gay? Pretty sure. Or like. Hella bi. Cause I think I’d still – if you were a – sorry. My body likes you, Max.” — (Max owns an inn and Daniel has amnesia.)

so funny... love, love, love. I always love those kind of stories, the AU with amnesia and all, but this one is genuinely the best I've ever read. I love all of @powerful-owl 's fics, but this one. it has me in a chokehold. read it again during the holidays for the snowy/angsty/smutty vibes and the scenes always have me giggling or crying. sometimes both at the same time. can't believe she has the power to write such good scenes like the bathroom one. description is just gorgeous, smut is always really good and goofy and. yeah. love it. can't say I've ever been let down by one of her works.

new wave (new emotions) by nothoughtsjustvibes (Kitkatieb) (rated G)

In which Max realizes he’s in love with Daniel and flies to Colorado to make it Lewis’s problem. Lewis just wants him to leave – preferably on a plane to Australia.

so so fun. lewis' POV, which is always really fun to read, especially since it's maxiel. just. lewis objective on the whole 'yes max, Daniel is in love with you, too' situation without actually saying it out loud. cause max has to figure it out for himself. really, really cool and original. loved reading.

two's company, three's a crowd by Whippasnappa (rated E)

“I need to be good at these things so it does not matter when. When they see.” Max says. He's- Daniel's chest feels like its caved in. Max looks so fucking ashamed, and his eyes are wet, lashes fluttering like he’s trying to blink away tears. “See what? Max?” He can’t- there’s nothing about Max that Daniel could imagine would be so off-putting that someone wouldn’t want him. Clearly there’s more to it, then, the reason why Max hasn’t hooked up before. “It is small.” Max says.

whippasnappa is a genius on this one. small dick!max is alway shy fav max but this one,,, gorgeous. breathtaking. couldn't stop staring at y screen even if I died. could've died actually. had me having three heart attacks. have never come back from this one. arghhhh

we predict blue skies and tight pants by dontburnme

The sight just made him dizzy. The hottest man he’s ever fucking seen flipping off a cliff into the murky Oslo waters twenty seven meters high up. Or, Daniel’s a Red Bull high diver and Max experiences an out of body experience watching him.

in which, Daniel is a diver and max watches him dive. and dies, a little. it's crazy, crazy good. had me a little crazy, pulling my hair out by the end of it. I, too, had an out of body experience. crazy, crazy, crazy, and such a fun concept. alway love me some short and sweet AU-fics.

bonus!!: high and dry by @jermeows

real cowboys ride cock, y'know right?

technically not a fic but. it's such wonderful fanart I HAD to include it. maxiel cowboys; what more is there to say...

[itwdoris]

yuuji can't hold on, he knew that box of small chocolates was tempting but to see them on your lips? oh, smiling silly when you covered your mouth to laugh at something he said or the way you chewed so cute, was something that made him weak.

...oh, do i have dirt on my face? you curved your eyebrows and ate the chocolate you were holding to run your fingers around your mouth, even without an answer, chewing slowly. but what took you by surprise was the way itadori grabbed your face and pulled you against him, kissing you so passionately and so messily, nervous tongue tangling in yours as if he wanted to make a mess, turning his face to fit better and sometimes sucking on your lips. so sweet, so good... both of you probably had dirty mouths right now, with so much saliva and chocolate mixing together, but he didn't care!

he just wanted to eat that chocolate from your mouth and kiss you until his cock he exploded.

ew yuuji, in front of me? that's disgusting! you can hear a familiar voice, opening your eyes and using your peripheral vision, just a female silhouette that you recognized when he let go of your face, gently, still holding it. anyway, nobara had a look of disgust on her face and her arms crossed as she watched the whole scene

he looked at her, his face dirty with chocolate and his eyes a little wide, cute. you left a kiss on his cheek on impulse, hearing kugisaki grumble some more as she turned to leave the room, itadori just looked at you with shining eyes before smiling foolishly, ready to come back and devour your mouth.

don't think it's the way i wanted it to be, but im with a fuckin headache and been sick for a couple of days, just wanted to write it down before i forget it... oh and think you all know im a bit disgusting, not going to hide anymore

[its-the-allure]

My year in review

Can't remember who tagged me, but thank you! I joined fandom in late 2023 and started writing just this year, so this is very resident for me. So grateful to be here, and so grateful to all the amazing folks I have collabed with, alpha/beta/cheergirled for and had A/B/C for me! It's the best. You are the best. ILY.

Hot Boy Summer

Explicit | 3.3k words

Art collab with @ree-dee-art, Gift for @edieblakee

Summary: A surprise visitor leads to more than Harry was expecting.

lost for you i am so lost

Explicit | 758 words

Gift for my first fandom bestie @phoenixortheflame, seven deadly sins challenge for DCC Monthly Microcreations

Summary: Harry didn’t sleep well, and often came to bed late. Draco never minded being woken like this.

Worshipping at the altar of Harry James Potter

Explicit | 2.4k words

Inspired by art by @itsphantasmagoria, Gift for Harry's birthday!

Summary: “You had mentioned you were interested in adding a little play,” Draco said to Harry. “I thought you might enjoy giving it a go today, to celebrate your birthday.”

Down and (nearly) out

Explicit | 6.6k words

Art collab with an anon friend, Gift for my bestie @kamaela

Summary: A story told over several evenings out, during which Harry Potter rapidly becomes obsessed with Draco Malfoy for a whole new reason. In his defense, everyone loves a crop top.

Eyeliner!Harry, Part 1 of The Eyeliner Chronicles

Explicit | 3.5k words

Art collab with @itsphantasmagoria, gift for my bestie @jelliewrites

Summary: Draco Malfoy returns to a mandatory eighth year at Hogwarts with a massive crush on Harry Potter. Harry has returned wearing eyeliner and black nail polish. Draco never thought he’d be into this look on a man, but has to admit, it’s working for Potter. It’s also working for Draco.

Magie Noire

Pansmione | Mature | 7.2k words

Art collab with an anon pal, Gift for @sleepstxtic

Summary: Pansy is checking email on her mobile when another witch gets into the lift. Their eyes meet, Pansy’s shock mirrored on the face of Hermione Granger. Pansy’s wand slips from her sleeve without a thought, and suddenly she’s gripping it tightly, her heart hammering. “Hello, Granger. What are you doing in Paris?” Or, the time Pansy and Hermione keep running into each other. Mischief follows.

[podfic] The Scariest Witch by sweaters_in_the_summer

Gen | 0-10 min

My first podfic! Collab with @sweatersinthesummer (who wrote!), get outside your comfort zone challenge for DCC Monthly Microcreations

Summary: Harry and Draco celebrate their first Halloween together with Harry’s babies.

Come As You Are

Explicit | 35k words

My first anon fest submission! For @hd-fan-fair. And my longest fic to date. Collab with the amazing and wonderful and supremely talented @itsphantasmagoria

Summary: When Harry Potter visits a sexy internet chatroom site, he does so with the hope of answering a niggling question: Am I interested in men? He finds more than he anticipated when he stumbles upon a free strip show starring a very familiar person. Just what is Draco Malfoy doing on a Muggle pay-per-view site? And when did he get so fucking fit?

[ART] HJP is the sun

A gift for the amazing peu_a_peu, for the HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: A truly terrible comic, made with the utmost love and respect. Inspired by peu_a_peu’s The Sun (chapter 4 of the legendary Crack This Thing Wide Open).

Cease and Desist

Explicit | 1.2k words

A gift for @saijordison, inspired by his art, for the HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: After the war Draco makes a fortune selling Potter fan merch, and Harry Potter wants to shut it down. He sends a cease-and-desist letter. What's Draco to do but show up to court wearing their bestselling "Future Mrs. Potter" jumper?

Little Black Dress, Part 2 of The Eyeliner Chronicles

Explicit | 4.9k words

Art collab with @itsphantasmagoria, Gift for @tessacrowley, for the @hd-tarot fest

Summary: Returning for a mandatory eighth year and secretly dating Harry Potter, Draco is a bit of a mess. Harry wants to go public with their relationship, but the last thing Draco needs is another reason for people to hate him. As they work on their Tarot assignment for Advanced Divination, could a change of heart be in the cards?

Oroboros

Mature | 558 words

Gift for @thisbloodycat, for the DCC Holiday Exchange

Summary: Through eight years at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy cannot keep his eyes off Harry Potter.

Leather Cheerio

Explicit | 2.2k words

Gift for @itsphantasmagoria, for HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: I hate writing summaries. Just fucking read it. 😈

Or, when Allure wrote crack smut for Phanta's birthday, using the worst words from the Lewd Vocabulary in Erotic Fiction survey results.

Tagging @kamaela @dodgerkedavra @itsphantasmagoria @sweatersinthesummer @cailynwrites @phoenixortheflame @jelliewrites @smehur @sleepstxtic @pl0tty @fastbrother @faiell @drwhoisginnyholmes @thusspoketrish and everyone else who sees this and wants to! Let's celebrate!!!

[lunaatthezoo]

The Light Between Sin & Salvation: Chapter 4

I'm feeling unhinged about this fic right now. HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER.

Chapter 4: Willpower

Summary: Az plays the piano for Elain. And then he makes some violent and unhinged decisions in the name of his crush. Elain uses her eyelashes to get Az to do yoga with her Az and tries not to die on the spot. Previewwww below <3

CW: Depictions of violence and blood; discussions of a parent's addiction and related abuse/neglect of children

“Will you play the piano for me?” 

Az slid his hand off Elain’s and swallowed. 

“Really?” He asked, and then he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't usually…” 

But she was looking at him with such pleading in her huge coffee eyes, like this would truly help her. 

She blinked at him slowly. Fuck, she knew how to work those lashes. 

“Alright,” he finally acquiesced. 

She gave him a sweet little smile and they rose. 

The only people he had ever purposefully played in front of were Maria, when she was still alive, and his brothers, when they had bullied him to the point of abuse when Rhys had gifted him the piano. Otherwise he made a point to play when he knew he was alone in the house. 

But he was fairly certain he would give Elain literally anything she asked for when she looked at him like that. 

He felt clammy all of a sudden as they approached the family room. Playing the piano was second nature to him, as easy as breathing. But he felt nervous displaying this part of his soul in front of Elain. She remained silent, curling up on the sofa and hugging her knees in that pose he was starting to become all too familiar with. He was actually kind of impressed she could pull it off in her skirt and tights. 

He swallowed and sat down at the piano, stretching his fingers. 

He cleared his throat. 

Don’t be a fucking coward. It’s just a piano. Just touching some keys. 

And then a horrible, depraved little part of his brain said to him, maybe she’ll want to fuck you when she hears you play .

Az punched that part of his brain square in the jaw. If it had a jaw. God he was a fucking mess. 

He took a deep breath to clear his thoughts, feeling Elain’s eyes on him, and started playing. 

[xfangheartx]

Little Octavia Scenario

I just now thought of this.

So, Octavia's still living with her mom and her uncle. She's forced into going into another one of their formal parties and made to wear a frilly dress that she hates, but she forces herself to endure it. Octavia's sitting by herself, looking sullen and forlorn. She's alone because none of the other heirs or heiresses share her interests.

She can't bring herself to socialize with any of them. She tries not to show it, but she misses Stolas a lot, but as far as she knows, he's better off living with Blitzø.

But Octavia actually misses someone else, too. She actually misses Loona, her one and only friend who relates to her so much. She actually hadn't maintained contact with her as she would have liked. She hasn't been able to follow what she's been doing on Sinstagram because Stella took her phone away.

Then, as Octavia goes to get herself a little snack from the table, one of the Goetia kids stops her and says "Hey! You're that princess whose dad gave up everything for an imp!"

Soon, everyone starts to laugh. Octavia looks at her mother, who simply looks away from her, ignoring her pleading expression as she continues to talk to her friends. The last time this happened, Stella only tells her "Suck it up. Maybe if your worthless father hadn't done what he did, you wouldn't be in this situation."

Octavia desperately wants comfort and familiarity. She wants her father.

Then, out of nowhere, someone says "Your dad's a real fucked-up mess, you know that?"

BAM!!

Someone goes flying through the air. Octavia is standing over the smartass, glaring at him with a fist covered in black blood. Then, she stomps on the bully's chest and says...

"That was a fucking warning, bitch. Don't you EVER insult my Dad!"

The rest is up to your imagination. ^^

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt11/?

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fluff, 18+, KINKS

The living room was alive with laughter as the cast huddled around the coffee table, snacks strewn everywhere, and a heated game of Pictionary underway. Jack was furiously scribbling on the notepad, his tongue sticking out in concentration, while Erin and Antony shouted wildly incorrect guesses.

“Is it...a car?” Erin yelled.

Jack groaned. “Does this look like a car?!”

“Maybe a horse?” Antony guessed, squinting at the mess of lines on the paper.

“It’s obviously a toaster,” Karl said with a straight face, making the rest of us dissolve into giggles.

Jensen sat beside me on the couch, his arm slung comfortably around my shoulders. He was terrible at hiding his amusement, his chest rumbling with soft laughter. I leaned into him, feeling that warm, easy comfort that only he could provide.

“You’re not even trying to help,” he teased, nudging me gently.

“Because this is too much fun to watch,” I replied, grinning up at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered with a smirk, pressing a kiss to my temple.

The moment felt perfect. The room was filled with the kind of joy that made everything else fade away—the drama, the stress, all of it.

But then my mind wandered, unbidden, to a conversation Jensen and I had just days ago.

-

“I’m done, Jensen,” I had said, pacing the length of our hotel room.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with a calm that only made my frustration grow. “Done with what?”

“My manager,” I snapped, spinning to face him. “I’m done with the constant criticism, the pressure, the...the bullshit.”

He stood and walked over to me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, my voice softening. “That’s why I’m firing him.”

Jensen’s lips quirked into a small, proud smile. “About damn time.”

“I just...” I hesitated, glancing down. “What if it backfires? What if—”

“No.” His voice was firm, cutting through my doubts. “You’re not doing anything wrong. If someone in your corner isn’t supporting you, they don’t deserve to be there. Period.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” he said, cupping my face in his hands. “You deserve better, and if firing that asshole is what it takes, then do it. I’ll be here no matter what.”

-

“Earth to Y/N!” Erin’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?” I blinked, realizing everyone was staring at me.

“It’s your turn!” she said, holding out the notepad and pen.

Jensen chuckled, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

I groaned but took the pen, determined to draw something only slightly better than Jack’s unrecognizable toaster—or horse, or whatever it was.

The night carried on in the same playful, lighthearted spirit, the memory of my decision to fire my manager leaving me with a quiet sense of empowerment. For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

The house was still and quiet as we stepped inside, the only sound the faint click of the door locking behind us. Jensen turned to look at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tossed his keys onto the counter, his movements unhurried but deliberate.

“Feels weird without the kids here, huh?” I said, kicking off my shoes and letting out a long sigh as I sank onto the couch.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice low and easy, “but I’m not complaining.”

He crossed the room toward me, his strides purposeful. His eyes had that familiar gleam, the one that always made my heart race. When he reached me, he crouched in front of the couch, his hands resting on my knees.

“You’re too far away,” he murmured, his voice tinged with mischief.

“I’m right here,” I replied, trying to keep my tone steady, but his touch had me unraveling already.

“Not close enough,” he countered, slipping his hands under mine and tugging me gently forward until I was perched on the edge of the couch, our faces just inches apart.

He kissed me then, slow and deep, one hand sliding to the back of my neck while the other rested on my thigh. There was nothing hurried about it—just the deliberate, intoxicating way he always made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I laughed softly, my hands curling into the front of his shirt. “You’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“I don’t say it enough,” he said, his tone turning serious as his fingers traced idle patterns on my leg. “You’re everything to me.”

The intensity in his words had my chest tightening, my throat threatening to close up with the weight of emotion.

“Jensen…” I started, but his name barely made it past my lips before his hands began to wander.

Jensen leaned back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, but his eyes were anything but casual. They were filled with a mix of desire and mischief as he watched you, his gaze lingering on your chest.

“You know,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “I’ve always had a thing for… well, let’s just say I appreciate a good pair.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “Is that so? What do you appreciate about them?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. “Everything. The way they look, the way they feel… and the way they drive me absolutely wild.”

You felt a rush of heat at his words, your heart racing. “Maybe I should give you a better view then,” you suggested, your voice playful yet inviting.

Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire as you slowly lifted your shirt, revealing your bare skin. His breath hitched, and you could see the hunger in his gaze as he took in the sight of you.

“Damn,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “You’re stunning.”

He shifted closer, his hands finding your waist, fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled you toward him. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“Can I?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your chest, a mix of eagerness and respect in his gaze.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart racing with anticipation.

With a swift motion, he leaned down, his mouth capturing one of your breasts. His tongue swirled around your nipple, and a moan escaped your lips as pleasure coursed through you. Jensen’s hands roamed, squeezing and kneading your other breast, his touch firm yet gentle.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment of pure bliss.

“Jensen,” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming. “I need more.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. “You got it, babe.”

With that, he shifted, positioning you so that you were lying back against the couch, your body arching toward him. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze filled with hunger. Then, he leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that you never wanted to extinguish.

As he kissed you, his hands continued to explore, tracing the curves of your body, his fingers brushing against your breasts, teasing and tantalizing. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him closer.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and desire. “I want you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your heart racing. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a wicked grin, he leaned back down, his mouth capturing your breast once more, his tongue flicking and teasing as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel the heat building between you, the world outside forgotten as you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you.

Jensen’s mouth moved with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. He lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling and teasing, while his hands explored the curves of your body. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, a desperate need building within you.

“Jensen,” you gasped, arching your back as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. “I need you… please.”

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk playing on his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re driving me insane.”

With that, he shifted his position, kneeling on the couch beside you. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in every curve. You felt exposed yet empowered under his scrutiny, the heat of his gaze igniting a fire within you.

“Let me show you just how much I appreciate you,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

He leaned down, his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed them apart. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as he settled between your legs, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your heart racing with anticipation.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, he leaned in, his mouth finding the sensitive skin between your thighs. A moan escaped your lips as his tongue flicked against you, teasing and exploring. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against you, his breath hot against your skin.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer as he continued to work his magic. He was relentless, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting as he expertly brought you closer and closer to the brink.

“Jensen, I’m so close,” you gasped, your body trembling with need.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “I want to feel you come for me,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

With renewed vigor, he focused on your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing in a way that sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body arching as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

As you came down from your high, Jensen crawled back up your body, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it only fueled the fire within you.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal his chiseled chest. You couldn’t help but admire him, your hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips.

He leaned down, capturing your lips once more, his hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension building as he pressed against you.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with need.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes, Jensen. I want you.”

With a primal growl, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. A moan escaped your lips as you felt him stretch you, the sensation overwhelming. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes locked onto yours.

“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, but the urgency quickly built as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel every inch of him, the heat and intensity building with each thrust.

“Jensen,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as he picked up the pace. “Harder… please.”

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more frantic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You could feel the heat pooling in your core once more, the pressure building as he drove you closer to the edge.

“Let go for me,” he urged, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to feel you come around me.”

With a final thrust, you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. Jensen followed closely behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his release, filling you completely.

As you both came down from your highs, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the afterglow wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“Damn,” he said, satisfied.

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

A/N: Hey you guys, I'm back, I hope you guys had fun during the holidays, idk if I'm back to posting regularly but I can try.

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7 @spxideyver @stoneyggirl2 @star-yawnznn @quietgirll75 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[ezrazwrldz]

abstragedy week day 1 writing (yes i’ve already done art but i wanna do writing too!!)

zooble’s pov

sat in my room, i stared at the obnoxious walls, a blue decorated with purple triangles. i suppose it fits, with all the loose parts that were strewn across the floor. i’ve never minded mess, i suppose it’s just a part of me nowadays. i reached up to remove one of my antennae, running my hand across the smooth, yet spiked surface. it was far from my favourite that i’ve tried, but then again, all of them sucked equally. none of them really screamed ‘zooble’. or even whispered it, for that matter.

jolting me out of my thoughts, a knock echoed on the door. a familiar timid, quiet knock. gangle. what was she doing up this late..?

“come in. door’s unlocked,” i called out, not wanting to get up from where i was sat. i was comfortable. when she walked in, the first thing i noticed was despite having her happy mask on, she seemed upset, nervous. she was trembling, in fact, holding her arms close to her chest. a pang of concern fills me as i sit up straight, asking, “..you okay?”

“…no…” she mumbles, sniffling a little as she slowly approached, sitting on the edge of my bed, “..jax.. he tore up my drawings..”

it all added up, and i felt a pang of anger within me. “..he.. what?” i asked, making sure i heard her right. i didn’t doubt that he did just that, but i just wanted to make sure. “that b@$*#-d.”

she jumped a little at my response, holding her hands up.. almost defensively. “please don’t do anything- i don’t want him to be mad at me— can i just.. sleep in here tonight..? itsokayifnot-“

“i don’t see the issue. c’mere.” i outstretch one of my arms, inviting her to lay next to me. she happily obliges, crawling into my arms and letting her eyes flutter closed. she fit perfectly, like the perfect part i’ve been seeking. eventually, my eyes close too, but i don’t quite fall asleep yet. i wait until she does. i knew i have a tendency to snore, so i didn’t want to disturb her with that.

eventually, i feel her relax in my arms, breaths slowing and evening out. so, with that, i let myself drift to sleep too.

[deprivedreality]

CHAPTER II. Getting To Know Your Mechanic.

Series Masterlist

The hum of the machines, the occasional clang of metal hitting the floor, and the familiar scent of soldering iron filled the air in the tech division. It was another normal day for Y/n, sitting at her workstation and surrounded by blueprints and gadgets. The world of support tech was bustling, full of designs, and constant requests for gear modifications. But there was an unusual calmness in the air, especially considering her favorite (or most frequent) hero client wasn’t in yet.

Y/n was so used to Bakugo barging into her lab at any hour, demanding her attention like she was his personal repairwoman. The day before, although very unusual of him, he had stormed in to complain about his jetpack prototype. She had watched, thoroughly entertained, as he tried it out, zooming around the testing area only to crash into a pile of mats, much to his irritation. She hadn’t stopped laughing. Honestly, the sight of Bakugo tumbling in the air had almost made her forget how much of a pain he was.

And yet, for the first time in their long, complicated history, he hadn’t yelled at her for some reason. Instead, he'd glared at her, but there was something different in his expression. It wasn’t the usual fiery anger—it was something like embarrassment mixed with a strange sense of... pride.

And that had been the last time he’d been in, at least for now. Y/n had expected him to come storming in today, demanding yet another modification. But when the door opened at exactly 10:00 a.m., it wasn’t the usual Bakugo. No loud voice. No aggressive step. Just the soft click of the door and the shuffle of footsteps. And... is that chocolate?

“Y/n,” Bakugo’s voice was gruff as usual, but there was no complaint in his tone. Instead, he simply walked into the room, holding a bag in his hand. It was a case for his impossibly big gears, and a cup.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, glancing up from her workstation. “Well, well, if it isn’t Dynamight himself. To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

Bakugo’s usual scowl was there, but it wasn’t as intense as usual. He had his hero suit folded neatly in his bag, so it was clear he wasn’t here for a mission. It was his day off—or so she thought.

“I need a checkup on my gear,” he grumbled, placing the bag down on her desk with a small, almost hesitant tap. And then, to her delight, he placed the cup of hot choco on her desk. This was nice, she hadn't had her morning drink yet.

Y/n couldn’t help the smile on her face as she stood up, eyeing the coffee. “A checkup, huh? This is a first. You usually come in here screaming that I’ve messed something up.”

Bakugo didn’t respond right away. He just crossed his arms and looked around the lab, seemingly distracted by something. Maybe the quiet atmosphere today was throwing him off too. What an idiot.

“Well,” Y/n said, grabbing her tools and walking over to him. “Let’s get to work then.”

She sighed. Y/n had always watched Bakugo's fighting styles whenever she had the chance. She would look it up just to figure out why the heck he keeps popping in her workspace, yapping and strutting like a damn chicken. It hurts her that his gears were the only ones that kept breaking out of all of her client's.

She started going over his gauntlets first. It had always been the gauntlets—he couldn’t go a week without something malfunctioning with them. Maybe it was because he was too rough on them, or maybe it was because he was too impatient to notice when things were on the verge of breaking. Either way, it was always a constant battle.

As Y/n worked, she couldn’t help but try to start a conversation. She had gotten used to Bakugo’s scowls and sharp retorts over the years, and now that there was a change in his demeanor, she couldn’t let it slide. It's also convenient, considering he was eyeing her while she worked.

“So, what’s with you today?” Y/n asked, glancing up from the gears. “You’re not yelling at me or storming around. Did you lose your voice?”

Bakugo’s gaze flickered towards her for a moment before he sighed, almost reluctantly. “No, I just… don’t have anything to yell about right now.”

Y/n snorted. “You sure? Seems like you always find something to yell at me for.” It's ticking her off, and she couldn't help but try to flame him.

There was a long pause before Bakugo spoke again. This time, his voice was lower, almost nostalgic. “I guess I’ve been yelling at you for a long time now.”

Y/n’s fingers froze on his gauntlet, and she looked up at him. “You know, Bakugo, you’re a real pain sometimes, but it’s good to hear you admit that once in a while.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she quipped back, trying to ignore the strange flutter in her chest at the rare moment of peace between them.

The two of them worked in silence for a few minutes. Bakugo just stood there, watching her work with a mixture of impatience and something else that Y/n couldn’t quite place. She was so used to him being impatient, rushing her through repairs and tech modifications, but this was different. It wasn’t the usual storming in and out. He was actually waiting for her to finish.

“So, what happened to your face?” Y/n asked, suddenly remembering something that had always piqued her curiosity. She had noticed the scar running across Bakugo’s face, but she had never had the chance to ask about it.

Bakugo blinked, then scowled. “You gonna start asking about all my scars now?” he muttered.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. But that one’s pretty big, and I’ve never actually asked how it happened.”

Bakugo shifted slightly, his gaze softening just a fraction as he rubbed the side of his face where the scar ran. “It’s when I was a first year. I was fighting this villain, and I was way too cocky for my own good. The guy scratched me pretty bad, but we got him in the end.”

Y/n was surprised by how casually he spoke about it, as though the pain from that moment didn’t even matter anymore. But there was a flicker of pride in his voice, something she hadn’t expected.

“That sounds… intense,” she said, half in awe. “I can’t believe you were so young and already taking down villains like that. When I was a first year, all I did was draw.”

Bakugo gave a half-smirk, rubbing the scar again. “Yeah, well, that’s how I roll. Heroes don’t wait for villains to come to them. I go straight for them.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll give you credit for that. You’re definitely stubborn.”

“Stubborn? You have no idea,” Bakugo muttered under his breath. He then sighed. “I’m not some softie. That scar, though? It reminds me to keep pushing. Keep getting stronger.”

Y/n nodded, impressed. Bakugo glanced at her and smirked, "People say it makes me handsome. That's also a fact you should know."

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. She had always admired Bakugo for his strength, both physical and mental. But hearing him talk about his scars with such nonchalance made her realize how far he’d come. It wasn’t just about the explosion anymore; it was about his own growth and the battles he fought.

“Well, you’ve definitely got guts, I’ll give you that,” Y/n said, finishing up the checkup on the rest of his stuff. “But maybe you should take it easy on yourself. You’ve got more scars I can count, and I don’t think you need any more.”

Bakugo grinned, but it wasn’t the usual smug grin—it was almost like he was pleased, but didn’t want to admit it. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll make sure your gear keeps you in one piece, then,” Y/n said with a teasing smile. She finished the checkup and stood back, wiping her hands on a rag. “There. All set.”

Bakugo gave her a sharp nod, finally uncrossing his arms. “Thanks. You’re not as useless as I thought.”

Y/n laughed. “Oh, I’m glad to hear it. I’ll keep that in mind, Bakugo. Shit, maybe even have it printed and framed. ”

For a moment, Bakugo just stood there, looking at her. What the fuck is up with her? It was a good thing his hair was uncut or else his red ears are exposed. "Fucking nerd."

He seemed like he was about to say something else, but instead, he just muttered, “You know, I’ve got nothing else to do today. Might as well stick around.”

Y/n looked at him, surprised. “Wait, really? You’re just gonna hang out here?”

“Why not?” he grumbled. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Plus, you seem like you need someone to keep an eye on you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but scoffed. “Fine, then. You can stay. But I’ve got work to do. Just sit in the corner.”

And with that, the two of them fell into a comfortable silence as Y/n began to sketch out a new design. She had been thinking about creating a new kind of jetpack, something more advanced that could offer better mobility for heroes who relied on speed.

Bakugo watched her, seemingly not paying much attention, but Y/n could feel his gaze on her from time to time. He wasn’t hovering—he was just... there. It was a strange, quiet companionship that neither of them had expected. She did kind of felt deja vu, he was just in the corner like that time in the disco inferno.

After some time, Bakugo spoke up again, his voice less gruff than before. “You’re making a jetpack, huh? Think I could test it out?”

Y/n paused, glancing up at him. “Huh? You want to try it again?” At this point, she's looking at him confused.

Bakugo smirked, the familiar cocky attitude returning. “Hell yeah. I’m not gonna back out just ‘cause I crashed last time.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure about that, let’s give it a go.”

As she set to work on the prototype, Y/n couldn’t help but notice how comfortable she was with him around. Maybe it was the small, quiet moments like these that made their bickering feel a little more like... camaraderie. And, just like that, she realized that maybe things were starting to change between them.

At least it's for real this time.

A few weeks passed, Bakugo had become a more frequent visitor, hanging around while Y/n worked. Their interactions had shifted from tense silence and sarcastic jabs to something softer, almost... familiar. Y/n found herself not minding his presence as much as she used to. In fact, she kind of liked it.

She could feel him becoming a little more touchy, too. Small things like their hands brushing as she passed him a tool, or him offering to hold things for her when she needed both hands. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

One afternoon, after a long day of work, Bakugo stood by the door, looking like he had something to say. He was still in his hero costume. Y/n glanced up from her desk, wiping her hands on her apron. Expecting another problem with his gear. "What the fuck is wrong this time?"

“You wanna grab dinner?” Bakugo asked, his usual bravado covering the slightest hint of hesitation.

Y/n paused, feeling a bit confused and surprised. “Uh, what... are you sure?"

"DID I HESITATE?! I'M HUNGRY!" Bakugo yelled, looking like a beaten tomato. "If you don't want to, then don't! Fuck it!"

Y/n paused and looked at him basically sulking. "Woah, calm down. Sure, I'm hungry too." She laughed off and punched his shoulder.

"Also, It felt like weeks since I've seen you crash out like this." Approximately 10 weeks since his last crash out.

As they walked out together, Y/n couldn't help but feel that maybe their rivalry was finally becoming something else entirely. It was refreshing.

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2024 | all rights reserved.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 7 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇Pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇note: this one’s also kinda short

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/N moved swiftly through the dark, narrow passageways, her bare feet barely making a sound on the cold stone floor. She muttered to herself as she went, swatting at cobwebs that clung stubbornly to her hair and clothes. “He’s so dramatic,” she grumbled, brushing off a spider that had found its way onto her shoulder. “It was just a stupid figurine. It’s not like I burned the whole palace down.” The image of Telemachus’s furious face flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Honestly, calling me a maneater. As if I’m the one stomping around like a cornered animal. Little wolf indeed.”

She ducked under a low hanging beam, wincing as her tunic caught on a protruding nail. “And what’s with all the yelling?” she continued, tugging herself free. “I swear, I’ve met warriors on the battlefield with less of a temper. Maybe if he didn’t bottle everything up, he wouldn’t explode every time someone so much as looks at him sideways.”

A faint draft of air signaled she was nearing her own room’s hidden entrance. She sighed in relief, eager to be free of the suffocating darkness. “He should really thank me,” she mused aloud, her voice echoing slightly in the empty corridor. “That little tantrum was probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to him in months.”

She reached the trapdoor that led to her room and pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit space. Closing the door behind her, Y/n dusted off her hands and plopped onto her bed with a groan.

“Over a stupid ship,” she muttered, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “What’s next? He’s going to cry if I so much as breathe near his quill collection?” She stretched her arms above her head, a smirk returning to her lips. “Still, it was kind of cute, in a way. All that righteous indignation. I should call him a little lamb next time, see how he likes that.”

Her thoughts lingered on Telemachus’s anger, the way his voice had cracked as he shouted at her. For a moment, something like guilt flickered in her chest, but she quickly pushed it aside.

“He’ll get over it,” she said to herself, closing her eyes. “They always do.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The night was unusually quiet, save for the faint creaks of the old palace and the distant sound of waves brushing against the shore. Y/N lay on her bed, staring at the wooden beams above her, but no matter how much she shifted, sleep wouldn’t come. With a frustrated sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The air was cool against her skin as she padded barefoot to her door, deciding that a walk might clear her restless thoughts.

The halls were dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long, dancing shadows along the walls. Y/N moved with practiced ease, her footsteps soft on the stone floor. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, just letting her instincts guide her through the familiar twists and turns of the palace.

As she approached the main hall, she heard voices. Familiar ones. Her pace slowed, and she stepped lightly, keeping to the shadows.

Antinous’s booming laugh echoed through the corridor. “You’re dreaming! Eurymachus, little N/N? And Telemachus? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all week!”

Y/n’s brow furrowed. She leaned closer, staying just out of sight as Eurymachus’s voice, smoother and quieter, replied. “Is it, though? Have you seen the way she needles him? She’s practically carved herself into his head. That kind of attention has a way of turning into… other things.”

Antinous scoffed. “Please. Y/N likes to mess with people, that’s all. She’s been like that since we were little kids. Telemachus is no different, he’s just another toy to her.”

“But what if he’s not?” Eurymachus pressed, his tone more serious now. “You never know, Antinous. Telemachus might surprise you. And if he manages to catch her heart, well…that could be a problem for us.” Y/N stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. She wanted to burst in and demand to know what they were talking about, but her curiosity held her back.

Antinous let out another laugh, though there was a sharpness to it this time. “Telemachus? Catch Y/N’s heart? You’re giving him way too much credit. She’s out of his league, and she knows it.”

“Maybe,” Eurymachus said thoughtfully. “But emotions are tricky. Sometimes, the people you least expect to fall for each other do. And you should be careful, Antinous. If Telemachus got her on his side, she could become a real thorn in ours.”

Antinous grunted. “Let me worry about Y/N. She’s my sister, not some wild card. Besides, she’d never take that boy seriously. He’s all bark and no bite.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Eurymachus added. “And I wouldn’t underestimate her, either. Y/N unpredictable, and unpredictability can be dangerous.”

Antinous chuckled darkly. “Dangerous? Please. The only danger Y/N causes is to my patience.”

Y/N decided she’d heard enough. Turning on her heel, she stalked back the way she came, her mind racing. “Catch my heart?” she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a sly smile. “As if.”

But as she climbed the stairs back to her room, a small part of her couldn’t shake the idea. What if they’re right? What if I am getting too… entangled? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. “They’re just overthinking things,” she said to herself. “Per usual.”

Still, as she slipped back into her room and climbed into bed, the conversation lingered in her mind longer than she cared to admit.

[limelemonleaf]

When you get into batfam content you automatically get dragged to Danny Phantom apparently (not complaining)

So anyway I made an oc shut up you knew it was coming

Her name is Rafaela "Raf" Saunders and her ghost self's name is The Revenant

I wandered about the possibility of another halfa that was made before Danny and the what ifs that came with the idea; the most fun being Vlad having another one-sided beef with them if they were to mentor Danny after he "offered"

It would mostly be Danny's way of getting under Vlad's skin. He doesn't tell Vlad who The Revenant is or anything about them really. All he knows is this silent, 2m+, humanoid halfa carries themself so elegantly it pisses him off.

For Raf, being The Revenant was like performing on a stage, and if she broke character she turned back into Raf. And she could not afford that while someone could still be watching. The show must go on (cough cough theater kid cought).

Danny became familiar with The Revenant's game of charades when they didn't project any text. They COULD talk, but their voice was overlapping with their own and others that sounded too different to be theirs, so understanding them was hard at times. Danny got used to that too, but they keep the game of charades on whenever Plasmius appears.

I just imagine how The Revenant would just wave Phantom to go catch whatever ghost was left while they dealt with Plasmius and the latter being absolutely furious because how can Daniel not even argue back and just do what they say??? (The kids talked about this a lot before as another way to annoy Vlad. After each meeting they discuss what was affective and what not)

Since Danny told Raf who Plasmius is and their previous encounters, she had an upper hand when talking to the man. He's manipulative yes but so can Raf; especially because unlike with Danny, she didn't have any personal relation to the guy in any way, plus the lack on identity identification, she had all the cards! Danny, Raf, Sam and Tucker would often come up with things to say to the guy to aggravate him.

The best part was that Vlad would look for an adult when searching for Danny's "mentor" and never thought to look twice at the boy's little friend group and a certain colored hair kid who got integrated into it recently.

Is this oc an excuse to mess with Vlad? Mayhaps.

Also have this height chart just because

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 30/35

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3 (current chapter)

Read on AO3 (from beginning)

Why didn’t you tell me? You can’t expect me to believe she forbade you to speak immediately. From the very first?

Sally tried very, very hard to keep her voice calm, even. Tried not to let judgement creep into her tone, tried not to let a hint of the panic that was clawing up her own throat, choking her breath, show in her words or her manner. Sebastian was a weeping mess in front of her, nearly plucking his own feathers out in his despair.

I’m sorry! he wailed, his wings fluttering and flapping as he struggled to rein in his wild emotions. I swear to you, I never thought it would go this far. He wasn’t…he wasn’t like this at first. She thought she could handle it, she thought they could work through it, that he loved her enough to change. And then…and then when it got worse she was afraid of what it would mean for the coven, for her parents. For Evan. You know his family could make life even more difficult for Evan; we couldn’t…we didn’t want to risk it. I begged her, Sally! Please believe me, I begged her to ask for help. She bound me to keep silent the first time he left a mark. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!

Sebastian dissolved once again into great, hiccoughing sobs, and Sally was struck anew by just how damned young he was. One of the youngest familiars in the coven. Maddie Buckley was his first witch. His first experience with the sacred duty to guide and protect the practitioners of the magic they served that all familiars took up when they took physical form in the human world. His first experience, and he had to contend with…this.

She had never liked Doug Kendall. She knew his type—too in love with power and prestige and his own image for the meat beneath the veneer to be anything good. She’d counseled her witch’s sister to look elsewhere for a match as best she could, but Maddie had been too eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of her parents’ house and her parents had been too eager to curry favor with the Kendall coven. Maddie Buckley, sadly, was not the first young witch to be offered up on the altar of coven politics and she would not be the last. Sally had not expected her marriage to be happy.

But she had not expected it to be violent, either.

She’d been arrogant, she saw now. So certain in her ability to take the weight and measure of any witch after so long on this plane of existence. Stupid. Stupid.

Anger warred with the panic that wanted to overtake her, her magic crackling and snapping beneath her skin. Fury like she hadn’t known in centuries pulsed in her heart, so intense she barely knew what to do with it. She could almost hear her mentors from centuries past whispering in her ear. Who does anger serve Sally? What does anger help Sally? Channel it, Sally. Make it productive. Anger wouldn’t help anyone right now…but it was better than the panic.

The problem was the obvious target for her anger was already dead…and so she was left to keep it from splashing all over every other available target.

She was angry with Sebastian. A familiar’s first duty was to protect their witch. There was no getting around the fact that he’d judged the situation between Maddie Buckley and her husband poorly; let Maddie’s desires outweigh what he had to have known was the best course of action and had failed in his duty.

She was angry with herself for not seeing signs that she absolutely should have recognized if she was so damned smart and observant. For not stepping in to help the woman she���d watched grow up, the woman her witch adored above all others in his life, even herself. For not realizing the desperate, foolish plan her witch had come up with to protect his sister until it was too late.

Heaven help her, she was angry at Evan. Why hadn’t he called to her when he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to just drive to his sister’s house and bring her back to their parents’ home? Why hadn’t he called? He knew she would have come. He knew there was nothing she would not risk, nothing she would not give up to protect him. Maddie had had no choice but to defend herself, and she would have stood proudly by her witch to testify to that fact. He had to know that. She was one of the few beings in the state that had the clout to even begin to mount a defense for Maddie, though it mightn’t have been enough. The laws around using your magic to take another witch’s life were strict and all but merciless, for good reason, but…

No.

No, she knew exactly why Evan hadn’t called for her.

She could have done more for his sister than just about everyone else in their coven, but there was still a very large chance that Maddie would be executed. She could not truly guarantee that Maddie would not have faced the death penalty, particularly with a coven and family as politically powerful as the Kendalls on the warpath, seeking revenge for their son’s death. Evan…Evan was still technically a child, by human and coven law. There were those on the Pennsylvania high coven that would push for his execution, as close to the age of majority as he was, but Sally was confident that they would be outnumbered by those who favored banishment.

Banishment.

Evan was facing banishment.

Her witch. Her little love. Grown so tall and broad now, but forever small in her eyes. The boy she’d practically raised—alongside his sister—since he was ten years old. And banishment was the best case scenario. She was confident that the high coven would not vote to execute a seventeen-year-old boy…but she had been confident that Doug Kendall was only a political animal. Not a monster.

Foolish. Sebastian had been so foolish not to tell anyone the first time Doug Kendall lashed out at his wife in anger. Maddie had not recorded any evidence of the abuse she suffered with the human authorities, using her own magic and training to treat the worst of her wounds and hiding the rest until they faded from view. She had never come to her coven for protection, had never lodged any complaint that her marriage—an alliance between the Buckley and Kendall covens first and foremost, with certain rights and protections guaranteed to her because of it—was causing her harm. There was no paper trail, no evidence, nothing they could use to claim Maddie was justified in killing her husband. Intellectually, Sally understood. Oh she understood how well shame and fear and despair could work to silence even the strongest person. But Evan was in danger now. She cared for Maddie, but Evan was hers.

Pull yourself together Bastian, she said firmly, forcing her anger and fear back under her control by sheer force of will. Neither would help her witch. There must…there must be some way out of this.

There had to be.

How? Sebastian sniffled, shaking himself again and heaving in great gulps of air, visibly trying to regain his composure. Neither of us were there to witness. Maddie…Maddie’s still ill from the drain defending herself put on her magic, but Phillip and Margaret are already spinning a story of her having a breakdown over Doug’s death and her brother’s supposed betrayal. With Evan already confessing, no one will push to question her before she’s recovered—there won’t be any evidence that she’s the one who expended the magic to kill him.

And Evan was well-known to be a powerful witch. A powerful witch trained by a veteran of the Annihilation, no less. No one would question why Evan was not an insensate heap on the ground after murdering another witch. Maddie was in no condition to call her brother’s story into question or confess herself, and by the time she was…

Lying to the authority of the high coven was not as serious a crime as murder…but it was not far off.

Sally had only seen her witch briefly before he was hauled off for questioning by the high coven. If she lived another thousand years, she knew the sight of him would be burned indelibly into her heart and mind. Pale and shaking, hunched in over himself so that even with his great height he seemed little more than a child. Bound and shackled like the worst kind of criminal, left to stew in his own fear in a hastily warded room in his parents’ house while the local covens worked together to ensure that the true nature of Doug Kendall’s death was hidden from the human authorities. Neither of his parents had even deigned to come sit with him.

To her dying day, she would never be able to recall the pain in his eyes when she approached him, the way they’d instantly filled with tears, the way he’d breathed her name like the sight of her was the only comfort he had left in the world to cling to.

And in the next breath, he’d forbidden her to help him. Bound her in silence the way Maddie had done to Sebastian. Tears spilling from his eyes, shaking like a leaf—but his voice had been steady and sure. He’d known exactly what he was doing, exactly what it meant. He’d had to have known she would wait to speak to him before she did anything, would want the full story so she could decide how best to approach his defense; minimize the risk to Maddie.

At every turn, Evan had orchestrated everything to protect his sister. Terrified and traumatized, well aware that he was risking death or banishment, he’d taken the terrible, terrible cards he’d been dealt and played them all perfectly in service of making sure Maddie wouldn’t suffer any consequence for defending herself. In any other circumstance, she would have been bursting with pride.

As it was, all she could be was worried.

Sebastian looked around the attic space where he’d spent years training Maddie Buckley, misery in every line of his body. Seven years ago, in this very room, Sally had first laid eyes properly on her witch…and felt something about him call to her in a way that no Buckley witch had in over fifty years. She’d known in that moment that he was hers. She was meant to train him, to protect him, to make sure he was ready.

Ready for what, she’d never been able to tell. Divination, true divination, was a rare gift…even moreso in this day and age, and one that had never run in the covens to which she’d pledged her magic. It was true, though, that all familiars were at least a little sensitive to the whims of fate. You had to be, when your entire purpose in existence was to guide young witches in service of magic. The currents of magic that flowed around Evan and off into whatever fate had planned for him were so peculiar. She’d noticed it the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. Logic would dictate that what she’d sensed were the remains of the terrible thing his parents had tried to do when he was only a baby—but Sally had never felt like that was it. Or at least, that was not all.

All she knew was that Evan was meant to be her witch. That she was meant to make him strong, that he needed the kind of training that only a familiar of her age and experience would have been able to provide. There had been many in the coven that looked at her strangely for the way she trained Evan. And the heavens knew she’d clashed often with Margaret and Phillip over the perceived old-fashioned nature of the education she was giving their son. None of it mattered. She knew in her heart she was doing what was best for her witch. Her finest and most favorite witch she had ever bonded with, in all the hundred of years that she’d been training witches.

She could only pray that she had done enough; that Evan would be strong enough to face whatever the currents of magic were pushing him towards.

Sally, Sebastian said miserably. What are we going to do?

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sally had no answer.

*

She had known what it would mean when—not if, she had never let herself entertain the notion that Evan would be executed—Evan was banished. She thought she had prepared herself for it. Told herself that as long as he was still alive, that was all that mattered. She was, when all was said and done, a product of war…even as old as she was, more of her life had been spent in conflict than out. She well understood that hope was only gone when you were dead. As long as Evan was alive, she could have faith that there was some way to fix this mess. As long as her little love lived, she could still have hope. When the high coven handed down the sentence, though, the full enormity of what she would have to do hit her.

She had lost witches before. Of course she had lost witches. Many. Some to age and sickness. Some to accidents. Some…some had died far, far too young, screaming their pain and defiance as they lost their lives to another damnable coven war. She had lost her first coven, her entire coven, in one of the opening salvos of the Annihilation and that pain had never left her. That wound had never closed. She knew the pain of coven bonds going dark. Slowly and gently as her witch left this world for the next at the end of a long life. Harshly and violently as the bond did not fade, but broke, a jagged, pulsing injury that left her reeling for days on end. It was not an unfamiliar pain.

But never, in all her centuries, had she had to sever the bond herself.

She sat in a vestibule of the Pennsylvania high coven’s meeting hall, separated from her witch as she had been from the moment formal charges were brought against him. Nearly a month since she had been allowed to speak to him, see him, comfort and guide him. Their bond felt stretched to the breaking point, for all that she knew that was mostly in her head. She had spent her days trying to project calm and reassurance to Evan, even as she grew more and more frantic in her search for some way to prove that Evan had not murdered his brother-in-law within the directive her witch had bound her to, to not speak of it.

She could not even encourage the investigators indirectly to look for other explanations—the investigation had been a farce. Over so quickly that it was obvious they had not even entertained the possibility of another explanation than the one Evan gave. Especially after Maddie was questioned and confirmed Evan’s version of events.

Sally didn’t blame her. Well. She was trying not to blame her. By the time Phillip and Margaret had allowed the high coven investigators to talk to her, the lie had already taken root. Confessing what she had done would have resulted in her death and Evan would have possibly been banished anyway. The purely practical part of her—forged to diamond-like hardness in the fires of the Annihilation—understood that Maddie had not had a choice but to go along with the story, and also acknowledged that Maddie was sick with guilt over it. She regretted dragging her brother into the mess with every fiber of her being and even if things somehow, somehow turned out all right, Sally knew that guilt would stay with Maddie until the day she died. There was only one person responsible for this entire mess, and he was dead.

Sitting here, flanked by the Pennsylvania high coven’s familiars, flanked by Doug fucking Kendall’s familiar as witnesses to what she was now required to do…it was hard to remember that.

Evan was banished. It was forbidden for a familiar to remain bonded to a covenless witch.

My lady, the sentencing is over, one of the high coven familiars said, his voice quiet. She was older than all of the familiars surrounding her by at least a couple of centuries. Most of them knew her by reputation at the very least, and their discomfort was obvious in every interaction. At least they had been respectful.

Hrmph, Doug Kendall’s former familiar, a creature named Ichabod that had taken the form of a copperhead snake. The younger familiars tended to be more free with the forms they took—eschewing older generations’ habits of choosing common, innocuous animals like cats, dogs, and native birds. One of the high coven familiars sat in the form of a peacock in the middle of Pennsylvania. At least Ichabod had chosen a native animal for his form. Banishment. Too good for the bastard.

Sally’s eyes found his, and she stared at him coldly until he shifted in discomfort and slithered further away from her. It was a terrible thing to lose one’s witch to death. Even the long-expected death of old age was difficult. To lose your witch to violence was a pain Sally would not wish on anyone…but nor did Ichabod inspire an ounce of her sympathy. Not when she had no idea if Doug Kendall had bound him to silence over his treatment of Maddie, or if the creature simply didn’t care. Not when he was so damned gleeful over Evan’s trial, over the possibility that he would be executed for Doug Kendall’s death.

My lady, the high coven familiar—Joseph? Jeffrey? He’d introduced himself, but she couldn’t remember his name for the life of her—said again, dipping his head in a small bow that somehow managed to convey both sympathy and an implacable expectation that she would do what he had been charged with witnessing her do. He was nearly as old as she was, probably a veteran of the Annihilation himself, and spoke in a stiffly formal, old-fashioned manner that she hadn’t heard for a very long time. No one had called her a “lady” in over a hundred years. You must sever your bond with the boy.

She swallowed, closing her eyes briefly as she tried to draw on the strength that had carried her through the centuries. Through war and death and fear and chaos. Through the world changing all around her in ways she could never have imagined when she first took physical form on this plane. Through every trial and challenge she had ever faced. She had lost witches before.

But not like this. Never like this.

It was Evan.

It was wrong. It went against everything she stood for as a familiar, every vow she’d sworn to the Buckley coven to be fair and impartial, to be a guide and always treat her witches the same…but Evan had always been different. She’d loved all her witches, it was true, but Evan had worked his way into her heart in a manner that none of the others ever had. None of the others had ever needed her the way that lost, lonely little boy had. None of the others had ever called to her the way Evan did. He was hers. He was hers.

Well? Ichabod scoffed, a greedy, satisfied light glittering in his eyes. He was enjoying this. Reveling in the fact that Evan was about to lose everything. Get on with it.

Ichabod, the high coven familiar—Joseph, his name was Joseph, it came to her—said, a hint of reproach in his tone. Give her a moment.

Ichabod hissed, raising himself up to sway menacingly back and forth like a striking cobra instead of a copperhead. Why should I? Her bastard of a witch is banished! He deserves every bit of what’s coming!

Bite your tongue, Sally warned, her body going still, her magic churning within her. Ichabod whirled on her, scoffing again.

What? Can’t stand the truth? Perhaps if you’d accepted the rot in him sooner, like the rest of the coven, he wouldn’t have— The rest of his sentence was cut off with a choked cry as Sally flashed forward, faster than he was expecting, faster than any of them were expecting judging by the startled cries that went up around her. Between one breath and the next, Ichabod was pinned to the floor, her claws digging into his throat as he hissed and thrashed.

Bite. Your. Tongue. Or I’ll do it for you,she said, her voice deadly even.

My lady, Joseph interceded, stepping cautiously closer to her. My lady, this isn’t going to help anything.

She glared down at Ichabod, at this creature who had known what his witch was doing to Maddie Buckley. Even if he was bound to silence, even if he didn’t realize that it was Maddie who killed Doug Kendall and not Evan…he had to know that Kendall had deserved it. She pressed down harder on his throat, just to watch his eyes widen, just to watch the fear start to creep into his gaze as he thrashed helplessly under her. Then she released him, stepping back to sit primly down and wrap her tail around her feet.

Out, she said, the cold of the between dripping from the word. All of you. Joseph will witness when I sever the bond. She sat herself up ramrod straight, meeting each of the high coven familiars’ gazes unflinchingly while Ichabod sputtered and spit, hissing in fury.

Agreed, Joseph said immediately, nodding sharply at his companions. Sally watched in silence as Ichabod was escorted out of the room. Only when she and Joseph were alone did she let her shoulders slump, her head hanging.

I…apologize, she said softly. It has been a difficult month.

I’m not sorry to see that asshole put in his place, Joseph replied with a small smile. His witch had been one of the strongest voices on the high coven advocating for leniency for Evan, and Sally found herself comfortable in his presence in a way she only really felt with familiars around her own age. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe justice is being served here. Your witch…Randall and I both have our suspicions about what happened, and why you’ve not contested his account. If it had been almost any family but the Kendalls…

The players change, but somehow the story always remains the same, she said tiredly.

Joseph was silent a moment. Then, You love him as a mother loves her child, my lady. That’s a dangerous position for any familiar to be in.

She laughed, and Joseph was politely silent in the face of how wet and ragged it sounded. If fate had given him a better mother, perhaps I wouldn’t have felt the need to put myself in that position. But I did. And I do not regret it.

I am sorry, Joseph said, and he sounded sincere. He bowed his head again, and then said gently, It’s better not to draw it out.

Sally closed her eyes again, taking a deep, shuddering breath. I know.

There was no other choice. Regardless of her age or power, regardless of whether or not the law was just or fair or even still useful, she had to follow it. A familiar could not be bound to a covenless witch. She had to let Evan go. Her eyes stinging with unshed tears, she reached for the bond that had burned in the back of her mind for seven years, brighter and truer and more important than any of the bonds she’d had in her long life. She curled herself around its warmth for just one moment more, wishing, wishing, wishing that she could see Evan again. Talk to him. Tell him that she forgave him…that she understood why he did what he did, and that no matter what she was proud of him for defending his sister so fiercely.

Evan would be kept under guard for the seven days and seven nights he had to vacate the Pennsylvania high coven’s territory. He would not be allowed to see or speak to any of his coven except for the last night, when he’d be allowed to choose one member of his coven to accompany him to the edges of their territory…if any member of his coven was willing. It would not be wise, given the optics of the situation, but she knew Maddie would be the one to take that journey with him. They’d find a way to hide it, somehow. It had to be Maddie, however much she knew that Evan would want them both. It could only be one of them, and she would never take the chance to say goodbye from either of them.

Even if it meant she would not be able to say goodbye herself.

The bond between a witch and familiar was not quite an empathetic link. She could not share her thoughts with Evan, or even much more than vague emotions. She opened herself to the bond now, concentrating on the love she felt for her witch—as Joseph had said, a mother’s love for her child. She just hoped he could feel it. That he would understand.

I’m sorry, little love, she thought to herself. She steeled herself.

Took one more moment to bask in the light of her bond with her witch.

And then severed it.

*

She had been loyal to the Buckley coven for over three hundred years.

Once upon a time, she had thought she would be loyal to them until the day she left this plane of existence. They had taken her in when she was still reeling from the destruction of her first coven in the beginnings of the Annihilation—given her a home, a purpose, a coven again. They had been friends, family. She had trained many witches in their line. Even…even when things started to go wrong; when she started to notice a growing preoccupation with reputation, prestige, and power among the coven leaders. Even when she found herself turning away from the idea of training any of the young witches coming up in the coven, instead devoting herself to mentoring new familiars that found themselves called by the magic they all served to take physical form on this plane.

She had still thought she would stay with the Buckley coven.

When she found Evan, she thought she had at last found a reason to become more fully integrated in the coven again. She’d been aware of the boy, of course—she knew all the young witches in the coven. She’d even been vaguely aware that his parents and some ranking members of the coven seemed to think there was something wrong with him. Or at least, they seemed put off by him. A few of her friends among the coven familiars attributed it to Evan having been born shortly before Philip and Margaret’s other son had died, and it had seemed a logical explanation. Awful. But logical.

And then she’d followed one of the young familiars she was mentoring to his family’s house, after he’d announced that his witch was calling for him and it felt like she was frightened. She’d had no idea how much that single night would change.

She had learned so much about the current state of the Buckley coven since that night. More specifically, she had learned much about what certain members of her coven were willing to sink to in desperation…and what other members of her coven were willing to cover up in pursuit of maintaining an image.

If she had not already bonded with Evan when she discovered that Philip and Margaret Buckley had used a forbidden ritual in an attempt to save Daniel Buckley’s life, she would have left the coven that night. What they had tried to do was a relic from some of the darkest times in history for witches…and should have remained there. Even when Sally had been young, covens had gone to war over such rituals. That they had been willing to sacrifice their child…that they had conceived Evan solely to be a sacrifice…

She might still have reported them to the high coven if she’d had any faith that Evan and Maddie would not have suffered any consequence. If she’d had any faith that the coven would have taken care of Evan the way he deserved to be taken care of, that he would not have been blamed for something that was never, never his fault. She didn’t, though. The fact that coven leadership had been willing to sweep Philip and Margaret’s actions under the rug to preserve the coven’s reputation was proof enough of that.

She…she had no faith in the coven anymore.

She had planned to wait until Evan turned eighteen, until he was able to be out on his own in the world before she did anything. But with her bond with Evan broken, with her witch already out in the world alone…what was she staying here for?

Maddie and Sebastian were the only ones she’d even spoken to with any regularity in the three months since Evan’s banishment. She tried to be gentle and understanding, but the truth was talking with Maddie was painful for her. There was too much guilt, too much uncertainty between them and Sally…Sally knew she should be the one to breach the wall that had sprung up between them. For Evan’s sake, for the boy they both loved so much, had worked together to raise. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, though. It hurt too much. She couldn’t bear to even look at Philip and Margaret. Ignored any overtures that Philip’s familiar tried to make. The other members of their coven seemed not to know how to even approach her.

Why was she staying?

The coven that had taken her in and given her a home during the worst moments of her life had changed almost beyond all recognition. What was keeping her here? What was she being loyal to?

She could move on to a new coven. Any would take her, would be glad of the chance to add a familiar of her power and experience to their ranks. She could start over somewhere new. Couldn’t she? Or…

Or.

The thought came to her in the late hours of the night as she restlessly paced the perimeter of the Buckley coven lands. And once it came, it would not leave. It was forbidden for a familiar to stay bonded to a covenless witch—and familiars needed a coven bond as much as witches did. Without a coven bond, a witch’s power would eventually fade and die, and until then the strain of casting would grow ever, ever harder to bear. For a familiar? A being made of pure magic? For a familiar to be covenless would eventually mean death. A return to the source of the magic they wielded. Death.

Peace.

Rest.

Sally had walked this plane for over four hundred years. It would take a long, long time for her magic to fade to the point she could no longer maintain a physical form. Years. Decades, even. She would have her magic long after even Evan’s faded.

Hadn’t she always sensed that Evan would be her last witch?

Evan needed her. From the very first, something about him had called to her, told her he needed her. She had sworn to answer that call—sworn to protect him and guide him for as long as he lived. He was her witch. He was her witch, and he was all alone in the world. She might not be able to maintain this form for the rest of his life, but she would not fade for a good long while. Hadn’t…hadn’t she served magic for long enough? Hadn’t she done her part to guide young witches, bring stability to her covens, mentored young familiars?

Couldn’t she give herself over to a life lived with her last witch?

The idea would not leave her.

She had no way of contacting Evan. Maddie said he had promised her he would call when his magic faded…the girl had some notion of giving up her own coven bonds to make her way in the world with her brother. A beautiful idea, but Sally was skeptical that the Buckley and Kendall covens would allow her to leave so easily. Besides—it would be years yet before Evan lost the last of his magic. There were scrying spells, locator charms, but all of those worked best in fairly localized areas. If Evan had traveled more than a few hundred miles away—and in her heart, she knew he would be forced to be on the move fairly constantly, always driven away from coven territories as soon as they realized his banished status—most spells would be about as useful as picking random cities and asking people on the street if they had seen a young man with a birthmark. There had to be a way. There had to.

As Evan’s familiar, there had been no distance too great for her to be able to sense him. Find him. He would have been able to call to her from halfway across the world and she would have felt it. She could have followed him anywhere. Without the familiar bond, he was lost to her. She could no longer sense his presence, his magic.

Perhaps it was fate that the answer came to her on the day of Evan’s eighteenth birthday.

For years, Evan’s birthday had been mostly a private celebration between him and Maddie. No gigantic parties attended by the whole coven. Occasionally he would gather friends from school and go out for movies or pizza. Mostly, though, he and Maddie would pile into her car and spend the day together—sometimes they went shopping, or to arcades or amusement parks, or just out to dinner at Evan’s favorite restaurant. She and Sebastian would follow along at discreet distances, content to just watch their witches be happy together.

Evan’s eighteenth birthday was supposed to be a day of celebration for all of them. The day Evan was finally free to make a life of his own choosing, the day Sally had planned to finally make sure his parents paid for the horrific thing they had done to him when he was helpless and dependent on them, the day that was supposed to be the start of the rest of his life. Instead, Maddie was forced to pretend not to acknowledge the day at all. The Kendall coven was still circling around her like vultures, under the pretense of ‘helping her through her grief.’ Gloria Kendall, Doug Kendall’s mother, was particularly…intense around Maddie. Sally wondered if the woman didn’t suspect the truth of what had happened to her son, and was just looking for some kind of proof to bring punishment down on Maddie’s head. She knew Sebastian was almost afraid to leave his witch’s side these days.

The other familiars of the coven were avoiding her, barely able to meet her eyes when they did happen to cross paths. Once, it might have wounded her deeply—but there was nothing that could hurt as much as knowing her witch was waking up to a world that would barely acknowledge his existence, let alone his birthday.

She didn’t know why she found herself in the attic where she and Sebastian had spent so many years teaching Evan and Maddie. Philip and Margaret didn’t like her showing up at their house anymore, though Hepzibah and Gregor rarely made an issue of it. There were other places that held the same kind of memories for her, other places that made her feel close to Evan just by being there. Better places, even, as Evan had never been truly happy in this house, however much she and Maddie had worked to make it otherwise. The attic was where it all began, where she had truly been introduced to Evan, where his magic—so much stronger than it ever should have been for such a terrible reason—had called to her for the first time.

She wondered, sometimes, what would have happened if Maddie had never chosen to try and cheer her brother up by casting with him that night. Would she have come across Evan in some other way? She’d always been aware of the children of the cove, of course, but she had not been looking for another witch to train at the time. She’d even had vague thoughts of officially announcing that she would only be mentoring the coven familiars from then on, fading into the background of the coven’s day-today life even more. If the finding spell Evan had cast that night had never gotten so tangled in the outsized magic that Evan wielded…

The realization was like being struck by lightning.

She had been curled up on the threadbare carpet where she’d sat with Evan so many times, teaching him how to harness the magic inside him, how to channel the immense power he held, but now she leapt to her feet. Her eyes darted around the expanse of the attic, her magic curling within her and reaching outwards. Evan was eighteen now. An adult, by coven and human law. And that meant…

The spell he’d cast that night Sally had first met him would have found its anchor and solidified between them.

Any other witch, any other witch, and any other familiar, it would have been madness to even try. The echoes of years and years of magic and spells were thick in the attic, layers upon layers of Buckley magic that never quite faded from such an established focal point. To try and find the echoes of a singular spell…to try and follow it. But Evan’s magic was stronger and brighter than anyone else’s in the coven. Sally was stronger and older than any other familiar in the coven. This. This was the way she could find him.

The finding spell he’d cast when he was just a child…a powerful tether he’d unwittingly created with a child’s simple wish to be loved and a level of power that ought to have been impossible. The spell had spiraled out of control in Evan’s untrained hands, but it had been cast. Sally had always known that eventually Evan would be drawn to the person the spell had tethered him to. It had never worried her—it had been a foolish spell for Maddie to attempt, but Evan’s innocence would actually have acted as a shield against many of the ways it could have gone wrong. The spell as Evan had cast it really would find the person it was meant to—someone who would love her witch the way he deserved to be loved. Someone who would take care of him and protect him the way he deserved to be taken care of and protected. How could she be worried about that?

If she meant to do this—she would have to commit. She would have to give up her coven bonds. She would have to take the risk that the tether that bound Evan to the person he was meant for would lead her far, far away. And she would have to follow it to that person. Trying to trace the magic back to Evan himself had far less of a chance of success when he was all but guaranteed to be constantly on the move. Once the spell led him to where it had anchored, there would be nothing left for her to follow…she could waste all of the time she had constantly playing catchup to him. No…no, better to find the anchor point. It would still be like searching out a needle in a haystack—heaven help her, it might take years to follow such an ephemeral thread of magic—but at least it was less likely to be a moving needle.

If she meant to do this…

She did. She did.

She had never seen the value in dithering over a decision once it was made. This place, this coven—it was not home anymore. Home was with her witch, her little love…wherever that ended up being. Even taking the time to tell Maddie and Sebastian what she intended to do seemed an unnecessary delay. They might try to talk her out of it—might even insist on trying to come with her. As much as she cared for Maddie, the purely pragmatic part of her was forced to acknowledge that she had to play the part she was playing right now. It was not safe for her to leave her coven and seek her brother out. It might not be safe for a very long time. Still…she would not be so cruel as to simply vanish, not when she knew exactly how important having any kind of connection to Evan would be to Maddie right now.

She didn’t dare leave anything so mundane as a note on the table—Philip and Margaret did not seem to venture up here often, but they did occasionally make their presence known. Sebastian knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t simply leave with no warning, though…and he would know to look in the between. A simple mimic burst, spelled into the between in the attic—something no one but someone who knew her well would think to look for. Something only Sebastian and Maddie would want to look for.

How had the coven she had loved for over three hundred years come to this?

There was nothing she could do about it now, though…and Evan needed her.

She closed her eyes, breathing deep, and concentrated on the echoes of magic that swirled through the room, seeking out the remains of the wild burst of magic that had first drawn her to her witch’s side. She poured all of her power into her senses, clawed for the echoes of the tether that would eventually lead her to her witch’s side once more. Her heart beat wildly when she found it, a shining thread of magic that she could follow. It was faint to her senses—and she could tell that wherever the other end of the tether was, it was very far away. But it was there. It was there.

Sally stood in the quiet of the attic, contemplating what she was about to do—what she was about to give up. This had been her home, her coven for almost four hundred years. It should be a harder decision, shouldn’t it? She should feel some reluctance, she thought. Some apprehension. But no…

No.

This course of action would lead her back to her witch’s side, where she belonged. Where she would always belong. What could compare to that?

Sally gathered her power and reached for the connection that bound her to the Buckley coven, and had for centuries. Allowing her focus to shift to the faint tether that would take her to the person Evan was destined to be drawn to, she closed her eyes…and let go of her coven.

Then she plunged into the between.

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

New You Gym - 18

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Kylee laid back in her car seat, enjoying the post-orgasm haze as Emily drove her van ever closer to home. Kylee hoped to God that Michael would still be out running errands when they got there.

Kylee quickly realized that her wish wouldn't be granted as she felt the car slow and turn into her familiar driveway. Parked right next to Emily's van was Michael's car. Her husband was home, and she wasn't going to be able to hide her diapered state. Kylee started to panic.

"Emily! You can't bring me home dressed like this! Michael is going to find out about my arrangement with Nanny, and my life will be ruined!" Kylee pleaded. "Can't you take me back to your place to change into some more adult clothes and then drop me off?"

Emily looked at the anxiety filled face of the diapered, grown woman strapped into the car seat in the back of her van and smiled to herself mischievously.

"Now, Kylee, do you think I would let you into my van with big girl panties on? How many times have you wet your pants over the last three days?" Emily turned back in her seat to ask.

Kylee, looked down in shame and said nothing.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question Little Miss Pottypants. How many times have you wet yourself over the last three days?" Emily asked again.

"Um… Like four?" Kylee responded.

"Like four? You don't even know for certain how often you've wet yourself?" Emily responded. "No, don't answer that, of course you don't, that is why Julie is putting you through her special personal training program. But, you haven't just wet yourself, have you? Did you poop your pretty little pampers today?"

"Ye… yes," Kylee responded, defeated.

"So, why would I risk letting you make a mess in my car just so you could hide your shame from your husband for a little longer? I know Julie's rules for you. He is going to know what a little pants wetter you are soon enough. Plus, he already knows you had an accident today. You think that your Nanny didn't tell him about that back at the gym?" Emily continued.

Kylee felt her stomach drop at the realization that not only was Michael going to have to deal with her Nanny-mandated bed wetting soon, but that he also already knew about her prior accident.

"She told him that?" Kylee asked.

"Of course she did sweetie! Why do you think Michael was okay just leaving you at the gym? He wanted to make sure his precious little pants pisser had some time to decompress from her naughty little accident before she came home. Now, enough talking, let's get you out of my van. I need to get back to work."

Emily got out of her seat, walked to the back of her van, slid open the door, and began the process of unbuckling Kylee from the infant car seat she was trapped in.

Kylee did her best to ignore the humiliation she was feeling as Emily grabbed her under the armpits and helped guide her out of the van like a mother would a small child. Emily then reached into the car to grab something else out: The pink diaper bag that Julie had sent home with Kylee.

Emily slung the diaper bag over a shoulder.

"Wouldn't want to forget baby's new gym bag!" Emily declared as she grabbed Kylee's hand and started walking the diapered woman up to the front door of her house.

As they made it to the door, Emily knocked loudly, announcing their presence.

"You don't have to do that, you know?" Kylee said, "This is my house, I can just go in, and you could just take off back to work."

"Could I? I don't think your Nanny would approve of me just leaving you here without supervision…" Emily was interrupted as the door opened revealing Michael, looking more attractive than Kylee could ever remember in a tank top and his athletic shorts.

"Oh, Emily! It's great to see you again!" Michael said, his eyes instantly finding the stunningly beautiful woman rather than his wife.

"Yeah, I'm here to drop of Kylee, just like I said I would be," Emily said cheerily, her manner instantly changing from domineering to flirtatious once Michael opened the door.

"Oh yeah! Kylee!" Michael said, as his gaze drifted over to his wife for the first time. Michael's expression moved from one of slight amusement to worry as he noticed that Kylee was wearing nothing but the shirt she had put on this morning and the largest baby-style diaper he had ever seen.

"Oh, baby! Did you have another rough morning?" Michael said with the condescending tone of a father attempting to soothe his young daughter. "Come here sweetheart!"

Michael pulled Kylee into a warm embrace.

Kylee initially resisted the contact, too humiliated to feel she deserved any sort of physical affection. However, as Michael engulfed her in his arms, she let herself enjoy the bear hug, feeling protected and cared for in a way she couldn't describe. She started to cry into his chest as she felt comfortable enough to let her emotions from the day overtake her.

"Oh yes, Kylee had a very rough morning. She had another little accident, just like last time," Emily said, "Unluckily for her, all that Julie had for replacement bottoms in the daycare were the diapers."

"Oh, my poor baby!" Michael said, pulling Kylee in closer. "Let's get you in the house and changed into something more comfortable," he continued.

Michael started to let Kylee go and direct her into the house, but before he could turn around, Emily stopped him.

"Michael, before you go in, Julie wanted Kylee to have this. It's a new gym bag full of some… um… supplies she'll need when she comes back to the gym," Emily said hesitantly, handing over Kylee's new pink diaper bag. "Because of Kylee's little incidents, Julie and I think it's best that, when she comes to the gym, she wears a little protection in the future."

"Uh, okay," Michael said confused as he took the bag.

Kylee, standing next to him with his arm around her shoulder turned a deep shade of crimson.

"I guess that makes sense," Michael continued.

"Oh! But, don't worry! Julie has also taken a special interest in Kylee! She's going to start giving Kylee some personal training! Kylee is really excited about it, aren't you Kylee?" Emily said.

Kylee responded the only way she knew she could. She plastered a smile on her face and said with the cheeriest tone she could muster, "Yes! I am very excited to get some personal training!"

"Well, um… great," Michael said, confused and worried he only had half of the story, as he adjusted Kylee's bag on his shoulder. "Well, thank you again Emily for your help today, Kylee and I both really appreciate it."

"Anytime Mikey!" Emily said, pushing her way between Kylee and Michael as she gave Michael a warm hug. "I'll see you both at the gym tomorrow?" Emily asked, looking up at Michael.

Michael, who now had arousal joining his jumble of confused emotions, smiled down at Emily, enjoying the touch from the beautiful woman.

"Of course," he said to Emily before detaching from her embrace and turning back to his wife. "Alright, Kylee, let's go get you into some big kid clothes," he teased as he led his waddling, diapered wife, into their house.

Emily went back to her van, crawled in the driver seat, and watched as Michael led Kylee back into their house.

As she watched Kylee's diapered ass waddling away from her, she couldn't help but start to rub her throbbing pussy. Her growing fantasy of infantalizing and cuckolding another woman was starting to look like a reality.

Emily closed her eyes and imagined being fucked by Michael while Kylee watched from a crib in the corner, grinding her poopy diaper into a stuffed animal. The fantasy overtook her as she vigorously fingered herself over her yoga pants. Emily screamed as she came, sitting in the driver's seat of her van in Michael and Kyle's driveway.

Emily then drove off, hopeful of what the future was going to bring.