#was just so much more beautiful to me than any kiss

[okwonyo]

ℰ SWEET LOVER, ❛ 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂’𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

𝖠𝖫𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖸──── they love you, their wallet loves you too.

( 𝑓𝗍 ) ㅤㅤ𓈒 日语 + fem!r 𝑖𝑛 8OO ⟡​ fluff established relationship 警告 kissing skinship crying ࿁ 𝘮𝑢𝘴𝑒𝘶𝑚

antescriptum. can be read as christmas gifts or not ♥︎

reblogs&feedbacks ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა click

HEESEUNG ｡｡ spends several weeks running through every beauty stores he knows to find the perfect gift to give you. the man would spend hours on end to find a fragrance that would be ‘perfect for the most perfect girl in world’—as he says to every employee that tries to help him. his world would change to wonderful colors when he finally finds the one. a fragrance that matches your beauty and aura, luxurious and, oh, so beautiful. he gives you the perfume like it’s nothing on chistmas day, even if his hands are sweaty from anticipation.

JONGSEONG ｡｡ gives your gift to you—if you can even call it like that— in the morning. while the sunlight is peaking through the blinds and the winter’s cold can’t get under the covers. “baby,” he calls you softly as you are hidden in his arms. “remind me what is you dream travel again,” he asks gently. while he smiles, you go on a rent about northern italy in the summer, in a big summer house, close to the sea. he hums all along amd when you finish he nuzzles his nose in your hair, “great, because we are doing that this summer, baby.” it takes a while for you to process, but when you do, you get up so fast that you almost feel nauseous… because, what?

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAEYUN ｡｡ he does get your presents. not only one or two. so much more, as if he bought a gift for you every month of the year to make sure he had something to give to the ones he loves. he gifts your favorite type of clothes, in you favorite colors, from your favorite designer brand. to them, he add expensive bags that you mentioned vaguely over the year. he remembers when and where you said you liked this specific clothing from this one brand— he keeps it’s name in his notes like a secret that is waiting to be shared. and he give these gifts to you with a smile that translates his adoration for you.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ he makes you enter the living room with his hands covering your eyes. “here you go,” he whispers in your ear as he reveals a dozen little blue boxes with bows on them sitting all over the room. there is jewelry in each one of them, each one more beautiful and pricey than the other. then, when your eyes are already watery, in his hands, he offers you a beautiful red box. in it, a darry ring. the one that can be bought only once in a lifetime— a silent promise that you are together for the rest of your lives. he puts the ring on your finger as your tears fall, then he wipe them with his thumb.

SUNOO ｡｡ he knows how much you love to take care of yourself, how good pampering yourself makes you feel, how bad you adore looking beautiful. it is logical that he buys you the best skincare and makeup he can find. he looks at it for months, finding the perfect products for your skin, the one that nourish and make it glow at the same time. he buys you loads of products, because he wants you to have a tons of choices. he takes the bear ones, no matter the price. “your beauty is unmatched,” he tells you. “cannot let any bad products ruin your beautiful face.”

JUGWON ｡｡ listen, at first, he was really thinking of buying you only two or three jellycats. seriously. he didn’t think that he would end up with so much. his heart just knew you too well, it murmured what you would want to your boyfriend. it guided him to the jellycats that you would love— which are every single one of them. and yes, of course, he ended up with the entire collection. you enter your room with jellycats plastered everywhere, covering every single space. you moth fall agape when you see your boyfriend face amongst all of them. “i couldn’t choose, so i took them all,” he defends himself with a grin.

RIKI ｡｡ he loves to play video games witt you. it might be his favorite moment when he comes over, which is everyday because he never really leaves. he adores when you punch him because he is allegedly cheating, when you hug him every time you win and when you have to kiss his cheek because he it is turn to hold victory. his love for those times sits in your heart as well, he knows it, which is why he buys you a nintendo switch. with almost every game you love on it, pretty stickers to put on it and everything that comes with it. the expression on your face is enough to make his entire year.

ᩰ ᩙ𓈒◞ ˕ ◟𓈒ᦡ ’s .. have a wonderful day, luvdolls 🎀 thanks to @soov for the help >3<

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open。

[papaya-twinks]

merry christmas - l.n

Warnings: Smut, 18+, praise, choking, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, mentions of sex toys, choking.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“Look how happy they are,” you said, your voice a quiet whisper as you stood by your son and daughter’s room. Marshall was holding a little toy F1 car, zooming it back and forth, as Brittany carefully brushed the hair of a doll. 

“They’re so beautiful,” Lando whispered in acknowledgment, “just like their mama,”. You giggled as you felt his lips across your collarbone, peppering your skin with kisses, his warm breath spreading across your neck.

“Reminds me,” he said after a few seconds, taking the handle of the door slowly and moving it so only a sliver of yellow light could shine through, “haven’t given you your present,” he said, backing you from the children’s room.

“Lando, they’re still awake-,” you started, silenced by his finger on your lips. “You’ll just have to be quiet, then,” he said, walking you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed, your head falling onto the plush mattress with an ‘oof!’

“Marshall’s born in September, ain’t he?” Lando said, slowly dragging your shirt off, followed by your pajama pants, leaving you in your bra and panties as he threw his joggers off. “Yeah?” you said, confused where this was going.

“9 months before after December,” he hummed into your skin, massaging your breast through your bra. “Just like picturing me getting you all pregnant on Christmas,” he mumbled, kidding your lips softly as you giggled.

“You think about these things way too much,” you said, working at pulling juist joggers down, taking his thick, hard cock into your hand, spitting om the palm of your free hand and massaging it into his member, his lips meeting yours again.

“Now look what we have,” you mumbled into Lando’s lips, “a beautiful girl and a beautiful boy,”. Lando smiled, taking his cock from your hand as he pumped himself, trailing your panties down your legs with his other hand.

“Wanna get you pregnant again, just to see you all big and pretty,” he moved his cock to your entrance, slowly sliding into your folds, the room warmed and lit up by the fire in the corner as you moaned softly, keeping quiet.

“Maybe I can get you some toys for Christmas next time,” he mumbled as you blushed, imagining him using a vibrator on your sensitive clit…though nothing would beat his cock, never. It was too good, if you were honest.

You sighed contentedly, his cock pushing in and out of your wet folds as you moaned quietly, your whimpers mixing with his groans as he buried a hand into your hair, the other one wrapping round your throat - your favourite necklace.

You moaned again, going lightheaded with pleasure mixed with the feeling of his hand tightening round your neck, cutting off enough of your air for it to be a turn on rather than a huge restriction of oxygen. “Wanna see you pregnant so bad,” he repeated again.

You responded with a choked moan, grinding your hips down onto his for some more friction as he chuckled. “You’re always so needy,” he commented, moving the pad of his thumb down to massage small circles into your throbbing clit, extracting a whimper.

“Love my baby mama,” Lando kissed your cheeks, pulling you into a heated, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue battling yours as his hips snapped against yours - it was almost like he was trying to make you scream.

“Lando, s-slow down, oh m-my-,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back desperately, trying to contain your moans, the loud shrieks of pleasure threatening to fall upon your lips, but all he did was smirk and speed up.

You could half-remember how he’d fucked you before you had any kids, the bruising pace he’d ravage you at, the numerous noise complaints from your screams of his name, your nails clawing at his back.

“I’m g-gonna-,” you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence at the pace he was going, your boyd bouncing, your tits tight in one of his hands as he crashed his lips into yours, his hips snapping against yours as his thrusts became sloppier and messier.

His pace was savage, his cock plunging in and out of you, so fast you could barely comprehend it, before your orgasm hit like a ton of bricks, your body spasming as he panted into your shoulder, his seed spilling in thick hot ropes inside of you.

“F-Fuck,” he gasped, his eyes rolling shut as his legs shook. “M-Merry fuckin’ Ch-Christmas, babe,” he painted, sitting up straight as you laid there, snuggled into the pillows, your hair a messy, his hand detailing from your locks.

“Daddy!” a sudden voice yelled from the door as Lando’s eyes widened, hurriedly pulling on a shirt. “Marshall! What is it?” he rushed to the door, peaking out so his lower half wasn’t visible. “Brittany won’t give me back my car,”.

“Your car?” Lando said, discreetly pulling on his joggers as he made sure you were hid from view, “she has her doll, don’t she?”. Marshall pouted, nodding as he took his father’s hand, leading him to the play room.

“Daddy, it’s not fair!” Brittany whined, “I want a car too, why does Marshall get one and I don’t!?”. Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls. “What about…” he looked round, taking a little display McLaren car from the side.

“Here,” he handed it to Brittany as Marshall shrieked. “What?!” he gasped, “that’s not fair, daddy! Now she has the better one!” he whined. Oh god, sometimes Lando did wish maybe that Christmas Day hadn’t happened.

“Just…ugh, here!” he handed Marsh the other one, “but don’t you dare break those,” he said warningly, “I need to help mama shower, now,” he said, shutting the door, going to the room to see you still lying there. “Wanna shower?” he leaned against the doorframe.

“Absolutely,”.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝘿𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙒/ 𝙎𝙆𝙕*

Pairing: Hyung - Line x Reader (GN)

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Could I have made this just all one? Yes. Why didn’t I? Because I wanted something to post tomorrow on Christmas too lol. Hopefully these turned out as cute as i thought. Happy holidays to all! PS. Sorry for any mistakes!

Hyung Line | Maknae Line

-🎄

Bangchan:

Both bundled up for the cold weather as you walked into the tree farm. Chans hands interlocked with yours. This was the first Christmas you were spending living together and he wanted to make it perfect. He came up with the idea to go find the perfect tree for what he says “the perfect person.”

“How about this one?” He asks pointing at a tree.

“Chris- that’s gigantic” you said laughing making him laugh.

“Fine fine, let’s keep looking” he said smiling taking his hand from yours to wrap it around your waist.

After a few minutes of strolling you came to a medium sized tree, it had the perfect amount of leafiness. “Oh oh! This one’s perfect!” You say smiling. His heart melted at the way your eyes just lit up. You were smiling so widely looking at him with those beautiful eyes.

“Alright this one it is! I’ll go get someone you protect our new son” he said with a teasing seriousness.

When he came back with the guy he helped cut it down and took it to the car. As you got it back home he listened to you talk about decorating it. Smiling ear to ear just listening to how excited you were.

“You know, I’m happy I get to do this with you” you said smiling taking his hand that was on your lap.

His cheeks and ears started to turn red blushing at your words. He brought your hand up to kiss it “me to love, and many many years to come” he said blushing even more. His words making you blush along with him.

As you decorated you both couldn’t help the warm feeling of it all. Chan helped you up to put on the star stepping back to look at your work. “It looks perfect” you said smiling. The lights from the tree making your eyes look even more sparkly than normal.

“Not as perfect as you” he says pulling you to him. He kissed the top of your head as you smiled looking at the tree. He insisted on taking a bunch of pictures and making sure to get one or a ton of you both in-front of it.

Minho:

You weren’t completely sure if he’d be down to do it but you were hopeful. You had gotten all the stuff for it plopping down all the bags on the counter. You sat everything up before he got there. Placing all the little candies out and the boxes for the gingerbread houses. You may have went overboard but you were just excited.

When he arrived he couldn’t help but chuckle making you jump. “So this was your big plan hm?” He said with a grin.

“Yep! But if you don’t want to it’s-“ you started to say only for him to interrupt you.

“No I want to, gonna build a better house than you” he teased.

“Oh yeah? Wanna make a bet?” You say.

“Name your price loser” he teased.

“If I win you have to match PJs with me and take a picture!” You say.

“Fine and when I win you have to make those cookies for me” he says.

“Oh it’s on!” You giggle.

You both sit down at the table crafting your masterpieces. However he was getting frustrated with the house. It kept sliding “I think this was rigged” he huffed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his house was leaning, the one side falling off. You wanted it to be a fun time so you decided to help him. “You’re using too much if you do this” you say as you fix it making it stand perfectly.

“There” you say smiling.

“You know you shouldn’t help your opponent” he said with a chuckle.

“Well I was planning on making those cookies either way so” you still smiling as you decorated the house.

“Yeah? Guess I’ll do the PJs buuut we gotta get the cats in the picture” he said.

“Deal” you say kissing his cheek.

As you finished the houses Minho took a glob of icing smearing it on your lips. “Oops” he laughed. “Let me get that for you” he said kissing it off your lips.

“Smooth” you blushed.

“Of course, it’s me” he said before kissing you once more. “Missed a spot”

Changbin:

It had been snowing a lot the last couple of days. Changbin had come over surprising you because you thought he worked. “Hey gorgeous, get your snow stuff on” he said smiling.

“For what?” You asked confused.

“Just do it pleeease” he whined.

How could you say no to him? You got up putting all your stuff on. He smiled taking your hand as you both went outside. It was still snowing a little but he had a few things In a bag.

“Let’s make a snow couple” he said grinning ear to ear.

“Gonna be together human and snow form?” You say laughing.

“Duh” he teased back.

He helped you roll the snow up as you both got to work making cute little snow people. He had a few item to put on them like hats and scarfs. He found the perfect sticks for the arms as you made little faces in the heads.

You decorated them both stepping back to look at the snow couple you made. “They’re in love” he said smiling. “Oh wait!” He said moving their hands so they were holding “now they’re in love” he said making you giggle.

“If we stay out here any longer we’re gonna be the snow couple” you said.

“Right, let’s go inside and get some hot chocolate?” He said smiling.

He made you sit on the couch in a bunch of blankets making you both some hot chocolate. He handed you the mug snuggling up to your side. “Warm?” He asked. You nodded prompting him to put his cold hands on your stomach. You jumped at the coldness “hey! I just got warm!” You pouted.

“Yeah, now I gotta get warm” he said chuckling putting the rest of his cold body against yours.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin found a flyer for a holiday market that was going on this weekend. He excitedly asked you if you wanted to go with him and of course you said yes.

He had cute couple outfits picked out for the both of you making the whole day even more special. You both strolled down looking at the booths. Some had holiday candles, snacks and clothes. “I’ll be right back.” He said with a grin running off to another booth.

When he came back he had that smile of ‘I did something’. He moved your coat placing a little necklace around your neck with the letter H on it. He had another in his hand with the first letter of your name on it. “Would you do the honors” he said smiling moving his hair.

God why was he so freaking cute. You placed the necklace around his neck. He brought you into a tight hug kissing you softly. He couldn’t help but smile looking at you. “I love you Angel” he said kissing your cold nose.

“And I love you hyune thank you” you said softly.

“For what?” He asked.

“The necklace silly”

“Oh right” he laughed “of course! Thought it would be cute.” He blushed. “We should take some pictures” he said pulling his phone out.

You both strolled, stopping at more booths and to take more pictures. After it all you ended up with bags full of clothes, one with a few candles and of course all the snacks. He couldn’t help it, anything that you even so much as looked at he bought.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑

╰┈➤ ❝ yoichi isagi x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (without plot), aged-up isagi (obv), snowed in, kissing and making out, heavy petting, slight clit play, slight nipple play, slight dry humping, oral (f. receiving), praise, body worship, veerryyyy slight degradation (use of "slut" like twice), overstimulation, use of pet names "baby" "pretty". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : ~1.6k

an : had this queued up for christmas day !!!! as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa event, merriesttttttt christmas to @eevees-hobbies !!! 🥰🥰 hoping you like this and that i did isagi justice, i do love him dearly and i was super happy to see him on your list hehe >< sending soooo much love and joy and christmas cheer your way!!!

How it started, you couldn't quite tell. But the colorful sets of fairy lights lining the living room ceiling were all the light you'd left on, and the snow and the wind outside seemed insistent on knocking on your windows. Views were completely blocked out in a full, snow-white color; the heating system was almost doing very little to keep you from thinking about the blizzard outside.

Because it was cold.

And it would have remained cold… that is, had it not been for your boyfriend running his hands all over your clothed body, slipping beneath your shirt at the last minute. His touch was light and gentle, more to ease you into comfort than anything else, really…But you knew he was only teasing. Not to your surprise, his lips were on yours in mere seconds, body shifting to cage you beneath him.

He was warm.

This was warm.

His touches, no matter how feather-light he was dead-set on keeping them, left trails of heat in their wake. It was enough to draw out a shaky breath from you; enough to try—to no avail—to pull away for some more air.

He wouldn't quite let you.

Instead, you felt the corners of his lips curl up into a smirk, and it was warmth enough that you could melt.

"Mmfph—Yoi…chi…!"

His hands lay deftly beneath your sweater as he kissed you, tracing soft patterns into your skin. But even speaking was barely an option; a muffled "Mmm… Shh, m'tryin' to keep you warm…." was all you got in reply before his lips crashed back into yours.

Eyes closed, moans and gasps swallowed into the way you couldn't keep your hands off each other. And his hips moved to settle between your legs— Not warm enough, was what you figured he was thinking.

Because a low moan tore from your throat as he moved to grind against you, the outline of his bulge neatly slotting itself between the clothed shape of your folds. "Fuck, shit, baby…." he murmured against your lips, grunting with every rutting motion that he couldn't help himself from making. "Feels so good… Mmh, shit, m'never gettin' enough of your pussy—"

You could lose yourself in this. Even as he trailed kisses down the side of your jaw, relishing the way you arched yourself up into him, matching the now-frantic rolling of hips against hips… Even as your mind began to slowly peel away the layers of the reality around you, leaving only… him.

Him, him, him, him, him.

And when he looked at you then, a thin string of saliva connected his swollen lips to the patch on your neck where he'd just now left a stinging, red mark. His hips slowed down, but he was breathless when he spoke next—

"Baby, can I taste you?"

He licked his lips at the mere thought, eyes clouding with lust and desire in that oh-so-familiar way you knew well enough. The image before you made you swoon; you could feel the wetness pooling into your panties, practically smearing arousal on the fabric.

But he wasn't finished speaking.

Instead, he trailed a hand lower, lower—

The pads of his fingers caressed the skin of your stomach, before reaching down to cup your mound.

"It's just… You're so beautiful, baby."

He could groan at the mere sight of you.

"Makes me wanna do all sorts of stuff to you, and worship you… And, shit—you know I love your taste."

Slow caresses over your panties had your hips bucking. He knew your body by heart; could easily glide over the seeping wetness to rub tight circles over your clit. Obscene squelching noises echoed out with every movement, and it didn't take long for your eyes to shut, lips parted in pleasurable moans.

"Yeahhh, that's my pretty baby…"

He pressed into your panties as he leaned down, nuzzling against your breasts, your stomach, your thighs—"So fuckin' pretty."

He looked up to give you a silly grin, nearly sighing at the sight of the blush tinting your cheeks.

And before he would slot himself between your legs, right where he wanted to be, he leaned up to give you another kiss. It was sloppier this time, not much concerned with any technique, just clearly wanted to have his lips on yours once more—his hand reached up, stroking your curls, sighing into the kiss.

"God, I love you." He murmured when he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. "Y'know that, right? I'm so damn lucky to have you. Thanks for always being with me, baby…"

His words made you smile, and it was your turn to reach out to cup his face.

No words needed to be shared, not really—even without all the sappy confessions, you'd have known the truth of those words either way.

But you nuzzled against his nose, and said it anyway:

"I love you too, Yoichi."

He chuckled against your lips, planting another quick kiss. "Yeah? Now m'gonna want to kiss you all over…"

He was true to his word—lips back to trailing over every inch of your exposed skin, hands sliding back up your sweater to knead at your breasts. He'd sneak in a lick against your hardened nipples, wetting the fabric of your sweater in the process, but nearly grinning at the resulting visible outline of your peaks.

With every moan and buck of your hips in response, his touches and kisses grew more daring—worshiping every inch that he could, leaving a spark of heat to settle into your skin.

And then his hands intertwined with yours as he kissed atop your mound, slowly inching towards your clit. Your legs moved to rest on his shoulders, and he looked at you—there was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "You don't mind me spendin' hours here, right?" he joked, giving your hands a squeeze.

It made you laugh, because it was just so like him to want to, but—his tongue darted out, licking a stripe over your panties, tasting the wetness that had completely coated it. The laugh quickly turned into a moan. It was a sensation that made you jolt, nearly closing your legs, and he looked at you with a pout. As if to retaliate, he pushed his nose right up against your clit, and gave you another lick. And another. And another.

"Open up, pretty," he mumbled.

It was difficult.

Every lick he made against your cunt drove the fabric of your panties right into you, clinging to your folds and nearly melting into it enough that it might as well have not been there. The added friction it provided was perfect, the sensations forcing your thighs to close around him—

"No no no, pretty baby… Y'gotta keep them open f'me…"

His hands left yours to spread your legs open, pinning them to the mattress.

A smile played at his lips.

"See? Just like this. All spread out like a good girl…" He placed a kiss to your clit, and momentarily slid a hand down to push your panties to the side.

He licked his lips.

"You're such a slut for me, baby, look at how wet you are… It's perfect…"

You keened.

A whimper fell from your lips at the use of the term, pussy fluttering around virtually nothing.

He chuckled, because he knew it was what you wanted—but he didn't quite repeat himself.

Instead, with no more use for words, he buried his face into your cunt, licking and slurping up all of the juice that you could offer him.

He was right, of course; he could absolutely spend hours here between your legs, and you would let him.

"Y-yoi—Yoichi—!"

Broken cries of his name began to fall from your lips in an instant, grinding your clit into his nose, allowing is tongue to dig into your hole and take in every last drop. He would suck, coaxing as much as he could, lewd squelches echoing in the room and mixing in with your moans like a symphony to his ears.

"Mmmm, such a tasty pussy," came his muffled voice, eyes closed as he lost himself in you.

It was sticky, and messy, and obscene—

Your hands moved to grip his hair, pulling him against you as your hips moved, and his nails nearly dug into your thighs.

"Ichi!" you cried out, arching your back.

His mouth moved over your clit to suck, tongue flicking side to side in the way he knew you liked it best.

"I-Ichi! I-I'm gonna—!"

He didn't stop.

Wouldn't stop.

Not even as your thighs shook in your orgasm, pussy twitching, a long, drawn-out moan escaping your lips.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he kept going, licking, and sucking, and gulping down your juices—

"M'not done, baby. Be a good slut f'me and lemme eat s'more."

He said it again.

You cried out.

The phrase tumbled around in your mind, almost as if planting itself right in there, and you were sensitive, and swollen. But he liked it that way—and it felt so, so, so good. You almost felt yourself get wetter at his words, sopping wet, and it was more than enough to spur him to take even more.

At this point? You were well aware that he'd meant it.

He might as well spend his hours eating you out—

At least it would keep you warm.

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[nagis-wife]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.

--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡

Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.

“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt. 

Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.

Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.” 

You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here. 

Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently, 

“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude” 

“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine. 

✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nagi Seishiro  ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?

He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned. 

“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. “Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something. 

An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again. 

With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.” 

Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.

You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.” 

Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you. 

“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.

Rin Itoshi ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too. 

Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts. 

Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all. 

The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head. 

“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone. 

“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll” 

A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet. 

“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.” 

Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared. 

“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.

Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down. 

“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home. 

“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before. 

Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall. 

Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later. 

Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek. 

“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck. 

This was perfect. You were perfect.

♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Likes and reblogs are appreciated! My requests are open as well!.

tags: @pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @hayatoseyepatch @sugurouge

taglist is open for bllk content, lmk if you want to join.

[ikeuluvr]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE || Nishimura Riki

synopsis - surviving months on end without you while he’s touring is the equivalent of torture for bf!ni-ki, but thankfully facetime exists…

idol!ni-ki x reader / established relationship - fluff + teeny bit of angst / warnings: none! / word count: ~1k

part of ikeuluvr’s song series ᵔᴗᵔ — works inspired by songs! requests are open for other songs + anything else you would like to see from me <3

Ni-ki loves the rush of performing more than anything in the world. Standing on stage in dozens of different countries—looking out at the faces of his fans while some of them cheer, some laugh, dance, or even cry. The sound of everyone screaming his name makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. He dreads leaving the stage each night; watching the lights of the crowd slowly disappear as the screens close in front of him, giving him one less thing to look forward to. However, the one thing he knows he can always count on is speaking to you at the end of the night.

As much as Ni-ki adores touring, a small glint of guilt always resides in his heart each time he has to leave you for months at a time. Each goodbye is never easier as you go from having him sitting in front of you to propping up your phone screen at the table with him on a call. The time difference was nothing enjoyable either, the both of you waking up at the crack of dawn or going to sleep obnoxiously late depending on where Ni-ki is to make sure you have a chance to speak to each other that day.

As tonight marks week five out of six of being apart, Ni-ki feels especially restless wishing nothing more than for you to be in his arms as he sleeps his exhaustion off tonight. Once he’s driven back to the hotel, he doesn’t waste any time to say good night to his members before trudging to his room and throwing himself onto the bed. He pulls out his phone and speeds to click your contact to start a FaceTime call. Letting out a sigh, he stares at his tired face on his screen until it’s replaced with yours.

“Hi beautiful,” he hums, a smile plastering on his face as all of the energy he lost suddenly rushes back into his body, “I miss you.”

“Hi Riks, I miss you so much too!” you respond excitedly as you get comfortable on your couch, the sunlight peeking through your curtains while the moonlight peeks through Ni-ki’s, “How was the show tonight? I saw clips on social media, you guys were on fire.”

Ni-ki lets out an endeared chuckle at how adorable you are—the way you always keep track of every performance makes his heart flutter, “It was really really good! I love the Chicago crowd, they’re amazing. They were so loud tonight I could barely hear myself sing even with my monitors in.”

You flash a smile, listening intently as he speaks, his eyes sparkling with each word, “Aww I’m glad, it’s what you guys deserve,” you say, “I wish I could’ve been there. It looked so fun.”

“Yeah… me too,” Ni-ki answered, his tone dropping softly as the pain of missing you starts to hit again, “I keep wanting to look for you in the crowd until I remember you’re not here.”

A frown takes over your face as Ni-ki’s voice gets solemn, your heart slowly breaking at the way his face immediately drops, “Honey… only one more week, right? Only one more week and then we can spend every night cuddling in bed again while I kiss you all over your pretty face,” I grin, trying to cheer him up a little bit.

Ni-ki lets out a laugh as a pink blush covers his cheeks, “I’ll be counting down the week by the minute, don’t worry,” he hums before pausing, a smirk drawn on his face, “Do you think you could drop of of university to start touring with me?”

“Well! No…” you laugh, “Probably not the best idea sweetie, but good question.”

“I’m kidding, I wouldn’t let you do that even if you wanted to,” Ni-ki smiles, “But I really do wish you could be here with me every night. I love my job, but I love you so much more and I just-” he lets out a defeated sigh, “I wish I could bring you along and triple the joy I feel on tour by having you in the crowd each night.” His face falls again, a mix of irritation and heartache quickly filling his voice.

You tilt your head with a pout as Ni-ki’s eyes leave the screen to look somewhere else, the pained look on his face killing you inside, “I know Riki… I wish more than anything I could be with you too. In the future when things are a little different, we’ll travel the world together, hm? I’ll make you my cute little tour guide in every country,” you snicker with a smile, trying to bring him out of his melancholic state.

He lets out a snort at your response, playfully rolling his eyes, “Okay babe, I promise to be your cute and very handsome tour guide in the future,” Ni-ki retorts, letting out a long breath, “Hey love, can you give me a kiss?”

You quirk an eyebrow at his request thinking the jet lag may be getting to him at an exponential level and pause for a second to think of how to respond, “Ummm… I would love to baby, but there’s kind of an obstacle in the way if you haven’t noticed.”

“No, no I know, I’m not stupid I promise,” he chuckles, “But I miss you, I miss you, I really wanna kiss you…”

“And how are you expecting me to do this, Riks?”

“Baby, kiss me thru the phone,” Ni-ki says in a shy whisper, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips making you smile and flush a rosy pink, “Come on… I know you want to.”

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” you laugh, absolutely smitten with your boyfriend on the other end of the line, “But fine… I’ll kiss you thru the phone babe.”

Ni-ki lets out a giggle as he cheeses a boxy smile, quickly bringing the phone closer to his face and planting a kiss to his phone camera just as excitedly as if it were your actual lips he was kissing. You do the same with a lovesick grin painted on your face, pulling away a few seconds later to see the same adoring smile on Ni-ki’s lips, “We get to do that but for real in 7 days you know…” you remind him with a playful smile.

“Can’t wait baby… see you then.”

masterlist

[mmeskywalker]

|| second date update

summary: you were confused to as why ANAKIN SKYWALKER didn’t call you back. after being friends for so long, you finally got the chance to go on a date with the guy, and he completely ghosts you. what went wrong? you asked yourself. eventually, the question got to be too much to bear, so padmé helps you out…

word count: 2.6k+

a/n: this is lowercase intended. please do not be alarmed! i’ve been watching brooke and jubal tiktoks all week sooooo, here we are.

warnings: modern!ani, a little angsty, but that’s literally it.

——————————————————————————

“no, padmé, that’s exactly the problem.” you groan into your palms. “he won’t call me back!”

just your luck, you go out on a date with your best friend of 4 years and he decides he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

of-fucking-course.

“well—honey,” she sighs, her slender fingers pushing your hair out of your face. padmé pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to tell you until suddenly her head perks. “do you listen to the radio at all?” she asks.

you shake your head. “only when i’m really bored.”

“well, there’s this radio show called brooke and jubal in the morning… they do a segment where they call the people who leave their listeners confused about why they aren’t calling them back.”

“really?” you lift your head. tempting, you think before furrowing your brows. “okay, no—i am NOT having a radio show call anakin to ask about why he’s not calling me back.”

padmé laughs, opening up her macbook, “if you don’t email them, i will, y/n!”

your eyes widen as she clicks on the gmail app, her mouse edging against the button that allows her to contact brooke and jubal. you close your eyes, a hand reaching over to squeeze her arm as if giving her permission to do it despite your heart racing faster than it ever has before.

before you know it, she’s written a message and hitting send.

“what’s the worst that will happen?” padmé says. “they get hundreds of emails a day, they’re unlikely to even respond.”

“right,” you reluctantly agree.

——————————————————————————

you wake up to your phone buzzing beside you. with a groan, you roll over, your hand plopping on the device as if trying to turn off an alarm. it doesn’t turn off. your head perks up, confused until you recognize the number.

brooke and jubal.

“shit!” you shout, stumbling your phone in your hands before clicking the glowing, green button, answering their call.

“uh— hello?” you try to keep your composure, but embarrassment is rushing through your entire body. you’re on the phone with a radio show trying to get ahold of anakin.

pathetic.

“hello! this is jubal, from brooke and jubal in the morning.” a host-like voice booms from the other line. “is this y/n we’re speaking to?”

“it is!” you say, sounding just as excited despite the pit forming in your stomach.

jubal laughs, “wonderful! did we wake you?” he asks. “sorry about that, we just wanted to hear a more detailed version of what happened the other night.”

“this guy… anakin?” brooke jumps in. “you say that he was your best friend?”

“yeah!” you rub your face. “yeah—we were close for 4 years. he asks me on a date, and afterward completely ignores me.”

brooke makes a sound of sheer confusion from the other line. “huh, that’s so weird,” she exclaims. “tell me more about this date. was there anything that could have indicated this out of him?”

you scrunch your forehead, trying to recall a bad moment. “he seemed a little nervous, but that’s just anakin.” you chuckle. “we had a great time. he came over to my house and we prepared picnic foods, laughing and cooking together until he drove us to our favorite park. i thought everything was going really well.”

“there was even a moment where it looked as if he wanted to kiss me,” you continue. “we had just stopped laughing, and he started to look at me with his big, beautiful, blue eyes… it was as if the entire world momentarily stopped spinning.”

“looked as if?” jubal asks. “so he didn’t actually kiss you?”

that stings a little, but you shake your head. “no, he didn’t actually kiss me.”

“bummer!” brooke replies. “i wonder why? it sounds as if you guys had a really great night. a romantic picnic with your best friend—i don’t understand what went wrong, do you jubal?”

“no, i don’t either!”

jubal pauses for a moment, “and you’re sure nothing weird or embarrassing happened during your date?”

“i’m positive, jubal.” you are quick to reply.

“well,” he sighs. “i’m pretty confused too then. i say we call him and get to the bottom of this. before we do that though, you need to prepare for the worst. whatever he’s about to say will be broadcasted on the radio, and it might be embarrassing. are you okay with that, y/n?”

you nod your head, your tone shifting slightly. “yes, i—i just want my best friend back.”

“you seem like such a kind girl,” brooke frowns. “we’ll figure this out for you.”

“we aaarrrrreeee going to have to ask you to mute though, y/n,” jubal adds, “i know it’ll be tempting but try not to join into the conversation until we signal you in.”

you let out a quiet laugh, nodding silently. “okay, i’ll try my best!” your nervousness begins to pile into your gut as they warn you about adding anakin the the call. it’s all beginning to feel a little too real. you swallow thickly, double checking that you’re muted.

“hello?” anakin stretches, his voice groggy from sleep.

“hello, good morning!” jubal says, excitedly. “can i speak to anakin, please?”

“uh, yeah, this is him.” anakin replies, confused.

jubal smiles warmly, his voice clear on the other line, almost as if he were catching up with an old friend. “hi, how are you?” he asks.

“good— who is this?” anakin is clearly not in the mood, and you look to the side, ashamed to be contacting him this way.

“this is jubal, from brooke and jubal in the morning!” before he can finish, anakin cuts him off. “broken what?” he asks, mishearing jubal’s declaration.

some guy in the background laughs as brooke comments, “well, we are broken.” before jubal chuckles, cutting them off. “no, brooke and jubal in the morning, we host a radio show!”

“we’re calling you because we got an email about you from one of our listeners,” jubal says. “an email?” anakin replies. “yeah it’s from a girl that you went out on a date with!”

“what, i’m sorry— i don’t understand what’s going on.” anakin sighs, scratching his head.

“i know, you’re not supposed to yet, i’ll explain… okay, so i host a radio show, and we do a segment called ‘the second date update’, that’s where you go out on a date with somebody and then don’t call them after. when that happens, they email us to see if we can get you on the phone and ask what happened.”

“okay…” anakin says, his attention beginning to focus on the phone call.

jubal raises a brow. “so you went out on a date with a girl named y/n?”

you hear anakin stand from his bed and know exactly what he’s doing. whenever he gets stressed he starts to pace back and forth, and it causes you to hold you breath. “y—yes i did,” he mutters, almost as if he were embarrassed.

“you sound a little ashamed there, buddy?” jubal states. “is everything alright?”

“yeah, everything’s fine.” anakin clears his throat. “why are you asking about y/n?”

jubal doesn’t hesitate to answer. “well, she told us that you guys had a really romantic evening. you went out on a picnic, enjoyed some alone time together, and there was even a moment where she thought you would kiss her.”

“i don’t know if i want to talk about this on the radio…” anakin says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“listen, man,” jubal sighs. “i get that, i do, but y/n agreed to hearing whatever it is you have to say, no matter the outcome.”

anakin exhales sharply, and you can practically hear him running a hand through his hair. “she said that?” his voice is quieter now, more cautious, like he’s speaking directly to himself and not the hosts.

“she did,” jubal says, his tone warm, almost encouraging. “she just wants her best friend back, man. but she also doesn’t understand what happened. you’ve got to help us out here—what’s going on? why’d you ghost her?”

anakin groans, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of his pacing. you know exactly what he looks like right now: hair a mess, his hand constantly fidgeting at the back of his neck, that crease forming between his brows like it does when he’s stressed.

“it’s not like i wanted to ignore her,” he finally mutters, almost defensively. “but it’s… complicated.”

brooke hums, and you can picture her leaning closer to the mic like she’s about to pull the truth out of him. “anakin, you know we’re not letting you off the hook with ‘complicated,’ right? y/n told us the date was perfect—picnic, laughs, chemistry. what could possibly have gone so wrong?”

“nothing went wrong!” he snaps, but then he sighs, his tone softening. “that’s the thing. it was perfect. it was too perfect, okay? y/n’s been my best friend for years, and suddenly, she’s there, and she looks… she looks beautiful, and she’s laughing at my dumb jokes, and we’re just… making sandwiches in her kitchen like we’ve done a hundred times before, but it doesn’t feel the same. it felt like… like I was standing on the edge of something huge.”

jubal chuckles lightly. “sounds like you’re describing a rom-com moment, dude. you’re telling me you ghosted her because it felt too right?”

anakin groans again, frustrated. “you don’t get it. if it went wrong—if i messed it up—i wouldn’t just lose a date. i’d lose her. and I can’t… i can’t lose her.”

your heart squeezes painfully at his words. it’s everything you’ve been dying to hear, but it’s also infuriating. he was scared? that’s why he disappeared without a word?

brooke clicks her tongue, her voice playful but firm. “anakin, honey, i’m gonna be honest—you sound like a massive idiot right now. instead of risking messing things up, you actually messed things up by ghosting her. she thinks you don’t care.”

“but i do care,” he blurts, almost desperate. “i care so much it freaks me out. y/n’s… she’s everything. she’s been there for me through everything. and then that night, it wasn’t just friendship anymore—it was something more. i didn’t know what to do with that.”

there’s a long pause, and you realize you’re holding your breath, your hands gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles ache.

“look,” jubal says, breaking the silence. “i get that you’re scared, man. love’s messy, and yeah, maybe it’s risky. but if you don’t talk to her, you’re gonna lose her anyway. is that what you want?”

anakin’s voice is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “no. that’s not what i want.”

“so, can we bring her in?” brooke asks gently, her voice softening now. “she’s been listening this whole time. do you want to talk to her?”

your stomach flips as the words register. this is it. the moment you’ve been waiting for—and dreading.

anakin hesitates, and for a second, you’re terrified he’ll say no. but then he exhales, his voice steady despite the emotion laced in it. “yeah. yeah, let me talk to her.”

jubal gives you the signal, and your thumb hovers over the mute button. your chest feels impossibly tight, the rhythmic pounding of your heart drowning out every other sound in the room. you try to steady your breathing, but it’s no use—the nervous energy coursing through you is electric. swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally press the button, unmuting yourself.

“anakin?” your voice wavers, barely above a whisper.

there’s a beat of silence so long you’re sure he’s left the call. just as you’re about to check your phone, his voice filters through, quiet and uncertain. “y/n.”

his tone carries so much weight that your stomach twists painfully. “so…” you begin, your words shaky. “you’ve been ignoring me because you’re scared?”

he groans softly, the sound distant, like he’s pacing again. you can almost picture him: one hand tugging at his hair, the other shoved deep into his pocket. “it sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”

“because it is stupid,” you shoot back, though your voice lacks venom. “do you know how much i’ve been overthinking this? how many times i’ve replayed that night in my head, wondering if i did something wrong?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, almost tripping over his words in his eagerness to reassure you. “you were… perfect.” his voice dips lower, softer. “that’s the problem, y/n. everything about that night was perfect. and it terrified me.”

your breath catches, the sincerity in his words catching you off guard. “terrified you? why?”

anakin exhales heavily, and when he speaks, his voice is laced with raw vulnerability. “because i realized that night that you’re not just my best friend anymore. you’re… so much more than that. and if i mess this up, i lose you. i don’t know if i could handle losing you.”

his confession hits you like a tidal wave, a mix of emotions swelling in your chest—relief, frustration, affection. “anakin,” you say softly, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “you’ve been my best friend for four years. do you really think i’d just disappear if something went wrong?”

he hesitates, and you can hear the faint creak of floorboards as he shifts his weight. “i don’t know,” he finally admits, his voice so small it makes your heart ache. “but i couldn’t take that chance.”

“you idiot,” you mutter, shaking your head even though he can’t see you. there’s no malice in your words, only exasperated affection. “do you have any idea how much i wanted you to kiss me that night? how much i’ve been hoping you’d just talk to me instead of leaving me in the dark?”

“i wanted to,” he says, the regret heavy in his tone. “god, y/n, i wanted to kiss you so badly. but then i started overthinking, and all i could see were the ways i might screw everything up. so i panicked.”

you let out a dry laugh, the bitterness in it surprising even you. “well, congratulations. you managed to freak yourself out over nothing and made things awkward anyway.”

he laughs, a soft, breathy sound that carries a hint of his usual warmth. “yeah, i guess i did.”

silence settles over the call, thick with unspoken emotions. it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy, like both of you are trying to figure out what comes next.

finally, he breaks it. “so… where do we go from here, y/n?” his voice is tentative, like he’s afraid of the answer.

before you can respond, jubal’s voice cuts in, light and teasing. “how about i pay for your second date?”

you can’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just enough for you to breathe again. “i think that’s be wonderful, jubal.”

“good,” jubal adds, clearly grinning. “because it sounds like you two could use a do-over. no pressure, though.”

anakin’s chuckle rumbles softly through the line. “i wouldn’t mind that. a do-over, i mean. but only if you’re up for it, y/n.”

your chest tightens at his words, but this time, it’s not from anxiety. it’s hope, tentative but real. “yeah,” you say quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i think we could use a do-over.”

the radio show hosts cheer dramatically in the background, and even brooke chimes in with a delighted laugh. “now that’s what we like to hear!”

as the call winds down, anakin’s voice softens again. “can i call you later? you know, without the whole radio audience listening in?”

you grin, the weight of the past few days finally starting to lift. “yeah, anakin. call me later.”

“i will,” he promises, and for the first time in days, you believe him.

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent Calendar Day 25!!!!!!!

Shadow X GN Reader

Merry Christmas

Twas the morning of Christmas and all through the house

not a creature was stirring not even a chao.

The Stockings were filled with gifts and much more

And presents under the tree there was so much was in store.

the lovers were snuggled nice and warm in their bed

with dreams of each other dancing round in their head.

and that my dear reader sets the scene,

for I quickly grew tired of this rhyme scheme.

🎄

Shadow was the first to awaken, cracking his eyes open he saw that you were still wrapped in his arms from the night before. he looked down admiring how beautiful you looked as you slept, so serene and gentle. he couldn't help but lay a kiss between your ears, holding you close as you snoozed.

your eyes fluttered open after about thirty minuets, feeling a warm embrace and the sweet sensation of Shadow petting your hair you looked up at him and smiled.

"Good morning sweetheart" you said your voice still a little groggy.

"Good morning my love, merry Christmas" he said gently.

"Is that really today?"

"Yes, would you like some breakfast, or maybe open up some presents?"

"mmm, In a little while, I want to stay here for a bit."

"very well love, take as long as you need."

You two spent the next hour snuggling in bed holding onto each other keeping the cold weather at bay. the two of you holding each other's ungloved hands enjoying the soft intimacy of skin on skin contact. sweet nothings were whispered as the wind blew softly against the window.

"I suppose we should have some breakfast" You said finally ready to begin the day.

"How would you like me to help?"

"Could you feed the Chao and grab our pancake toppings from the pantry"

"Consider it done"

The two of you quickly got to work on your tasks You brewed some coffee and grabbed Shadow his beans. Within a half hour you had a pancake feast ready for the two of you.

After breakfast you couldn't wait anymore. It was time for presents.

The two of you took turns opening one another's gift's. Much to your surprise Shadow was a very advanced gift giver. he gave you things you never thought to ask for, like a replica of your favorite toy from childhood, the perfect accessory for an outfit that never felt quite complete to you, a signed album from your favorite musician. what warmed your heart the most wasn't the things themselves but the fact that he had listened to you, he took the time to know you well enough and chose your gifts from the heart, that was the best gift you received on Christmas morning.

after presents you went on a walk enjoying the winter weather. you played in the snow even letting Shadow's Chao in on the fun.

Vanilla insisted on having everyone over for Christmas dinner. Her home filled with the most wonderful aromas imaginable. a meal made with love and served to a company of your closest friend's, what could be better than that.

That night after the two of you had gone home, you were snuggled up by the fireplace.

"Did You have a good Christmas?" Shadow asked

"The best" you responded

"I'm glad you think so."

Shadow placed a kiss on your lips, warming your insides any hint of a chill destroyed by his love.

"Merry Christmas Shadow"

"Merry Christmas Y/N"

Note: Oh my gosh it's Finally Done!!!! I want to thank everyone who has read this series even if you only read one or two it means so much to me, every like, comment, and reblog really helped push me forward and keep going with this series. this is the first time I've ever completed a project like this and I'm so proud of myself. I started this blog to help me get through a really tough personal time and thanks to all of you lovely readers you helped me get through it. I will be taking a short break for now not too long maybe just a week or two. I have been writing for this blog non-stop since October and I want to avoid any burn out. I will be back soon with Regency Au part three (which is looking to be very long) and chapter one of my enemies to lovers series so be sure look out for those soon. I will continue to do my one shots as well as I really enjoy doing them I think I'll probably need to figure out a schedule lol. until next time, Merry Christmas and have a beautiful Day.

Much love,

-Chrystal

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

highschool sweethesrts with jame, and reader and james are playing music in his car while driving around and looking at lights, then they get hot coco qnd watch the sunrise? OR james getting a new guitar for christmas qnd being like super duper happy👅👅

Warnings: None, just fluff, reader is from a different country that doesn’t celebrate Christmas

“Where are we going?” You asked, accent coming out thick. You were tired but James hauled you out for the night for something but he wouldn’t tell you what and made you put on a blindfold.

You and James met while he was on tour and you truly loved him at first sight. Metal wasn’t your thing, you had no idea who he was and he didn’t know who you were, all he knew was he loved you.

You came back with him and haven’t left his side since.

It’s your first Christmas together, your first Christmas. James’s family wasn’t big on the holiday but he wasn’t with his family anymore, and he celebrated big.

Where you came from Christmas wasn’t really a thing, not just with your family but the whole country, you had traditions and lights but it wasn’t Christmas.

James wanted to show you everything, he wanted you to love the holiday as much as he did.

“We’re almost there, just hold on.” He said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

He found a place to park, nearly impossible to do when Christmas rolled around. He went around to the other side of the car and opened your door and helped you out.

He led you through the crowd, standing behind you and holding your shoulders, using himself as a shield since he was taller than you, bigger than you.

“Are we almost there yet?” You asked, turning your head back to him as if you could see.

“Yes, just keep walking.” He said, giggling in your ear.

His hand left your shoulder and he guided your hand to a cup. It was warm and frothy and chocolaty. It was so good and just what you needed.

James moved you over to the side of the walkway and pulled the blindfold down so you could see the hustling and bustling, more importantly you saw the joy and smiles, the lights everywhere and the grand Christmas tree.

“I wanted to show you this.” He said, kissing your cheek as he stood behind you.

“What is this?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the beauty of it all.

“This is Christmas in L.A.” He said, rubbing your arm with his free hand, the other holding a matching cup to yours. He let you sit with the lights, seeing the amazement in your eyes. “Did you get me any presents?” He said, pecking your cheek again.

You chuckled and nodded. “I did, I didn’t get it but I did get you presents, do you want to help me wrap them?”

James snorted and shook his head. “I can’t help you wrap them.” He looked down to you, seeing the way you bit your lip. “I’ll get Kirk to teach you.”

[foolishlovers]

Last year, I collected all of the Good Omens Christmas fics I read in December so I figured I’d do the same for 2024 and share the wonderful stories I’ve come across this month in case you’re also looking for something cosy and sweet to read over the holidays!

[here’s the 2023 list]

Schemes and Dreams and Kisses and Things by White Queen Writes (DivineLady91) (1.4k, T)

In the hopes of getting a first kiss from Crowley, Aziraphale hangs the largest ball of mistletoe he can find over his desk. And then ... he waits.

Winter Warmer by Icegirl592 (1.4k, T)

Christmas time is particularly hard for Crowley. Thank Her, a certain angel is there to make him feel better

Anathema's Solid Right Arm by White Queen Writes (DivineLady91) (1.6k, T)

Anathema takes it upon herself to bring together two customers she knows have a crush on one another ... drastically, if necessary.

Under The Mistletoe by badwolfgirlicouldkissyou (2k, M)

It's Christmas in the South Downs! Aziraphale is trying to cook a turkey despite a certain someone causing distractions, and tradition discussion blooms into something bigger.

All I Want For Christmas Is Festive Snacks (And You) by Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon) (2.3k, G)

Crowley is feeling anything but festive as he settles in for another retail shift, complete with hated festive uniform. But perhaps the spirit of Christmas has some magic in mind for him after all, in the shape of an angelic actor with a brilliant smile and zero baking skills.

Christmas is Definitely Not a Humbug by CemeteryAngel725 (3k, E)

It is 1843, and Crowley brings home a brand-new copy of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol as a gift for Aziraphale. Aziraphale shows his gratitude in the best way he knows how.

for the first time by summerofspock (3.1k, E)

Six months. It’s been six months since they’ve seen each other any way besides over FaceTime and Aziraphale is desperate for the sound of Crowley’s voice without the filter of the tinny speakers of his iPhone, for the smell of the crook of his neck, for the way his body fills the space beside him. He knows Crowley will be here soon and yet his heart hardly believes it is real.

Home For The Holidays by Sodium_Azide (3.4k, T)

Gabriel always means well. Aziraphale has to remind himself of this frequently. It would have been much more convenient if his big brother had held off on his well-meaning gestures for a time other than Christmas. He had been planning...well, it will be fine. Maybe. Assuming Gabriel doesn't give himself tetanus from a carpet tack. It all works out in the end.

Angel Actually by CrentTrimm (4.4k, T)

“Crowley raised his eyebrow, paused for a moment, and reached for his coffee. His fingers brushed against Aziraphale’s hand delicately as he grabbed the cup, causing the blond’s heart to pound in his chest. Crowley glanced up at Aziraphale before lifting the drink to his mouth and taking a sip.” It’s the day of the Home, Hearth and Garden Christmas Party. Aziraphale sits next to his handsome colleague Crowley at dinner.

An Angel Among the Evergreens by EveningStarcatcher (4.9k, G)

Crowley works at a Christmas Tree lot and finally decides to talk to the strange (beautiful) man that's been coming to the lot every day, but never buys a tree.

So Hey, I Drew You In A Coffee Shop Before Christmas, You're Welcome by ServantOfMischief (4.9k, G)

Aziraphale decides to go to the coffee shop right by his bookshop just to relax a bit and read a book, even doodle a little bit if inspiration struck him. And inspiration just walked in the door in the shape of a redhead with the most ridiculous shades.

If the fates allow by seekwill (5.3k, E)

Aziraphale flushed slightly under the lights and his gaze shifted off to the side, a still-familiar anxious tic. “I’m so sorry that it took me a moment. It’s just that it’s-” “-been a couple of decades, yeah.” Crowley smiled broadly to show there was no harm done, and extended his hand for Aziraphale to take. “Wouldn’t have surprised me if you didn’t recognize me at all.” “I do, though. I do. Of course.” Aziraphale took his hand and Crowley nearly reeled at the softness of it. Dry and soft and--God. Pretty?--A pretty hand. “It feels like--my God--it feels like only yesterday.” A chance encounter, reminiscing for times long past, and discovering the fire he thought had been put out long ago still burns bright? This might be Crowley’s best work Christmas party yet.

Wrapped by AppleSeeds (5.4k, G)

After enduring the stress of Christmas shopping, Crowley takes his presents to a charity gift wrapping stall. Finding himself completely enamoured with Aziraphale, the adorable angel in an elf hat who wrapped his presents, he keeps going back with random objects from his flat and asking Aziraphale to wrap them as an excuse to see him again.

A Christmas Wish by Supergeek21 (6.1k, T)

Aziraphale and Crowley are planning to spend Christmas together without any pretext for the first time ever, but when both beings wish for a way to confess their feelings to their best friend, their plans go a bit awry.

'Tis the Damn Season by KiaraMGrey (6.2k, T)

After a disastrous proposal, Crowley boards the night train with no destination in mind. He was never expecting it to lead him right to a kind bookseller who offers him a place to be on Christmas Eve.

Coffee and Cake by TawnyOwl95 (6.2k, E)

Everything in Crowley’s life has changed. New town, new flat, new job (hopefully). The only constant is his window table at Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, and the angel he shares it with.

Maybe Next Christmas by crepesandoysters (21.3k, T)

Airports were tricky business, but waiting in airports was as close to hell as one could possibly get. Nobody knew it better than Aziraphale, whose luck had made him end up in one right on Christmas Eve of all days. Although his airport experience turned a little less hellish and a whole lot more entertaining after he ran into an old college friend in that same airport. And then again. And again…

a little bonus: my own Christmas fics

wasting my time (chasing the high) (3.7k, T)

As a keyboardist in an up-and-coming pop-punk band, Crowley is finally living his dream, playing shows all over Europe with his friends. Yet no amount of music can drown out the echo of his ex's absence on stage. When the festive season rolls around and the tour winds down, Crowley is faced with the inescapable truth: he should have never let Aziraphale go. Can he find the courage to ask for a reprise, or is the melody of their love already lost for good?

not where the storyline ends (14.4k, T)

This Christmas, the only thing keeping Crowley going is the release of his favourite romance author’s latest novel, scheduled to launch on Christmas Eve. Yet his already sour mood takes another turn for the worse when he’s forced to conduct a last-minute job interview just before the holidays. Enter Aziraphale: the applicant who is utterly unqualified for the marketing role at the publishing house. Somehow, however, he manages to break through Crowley's carefully maintained indifference—if only for the duration of their meeting. After all, they're bound to part ways after the interview, never to cross paths again. But amid missed opportunities and holiday chaos, Crowley is about to discover that this Christmas still has a few surprises left in store for him.

The Anon Before Christmas (66.7k, E)

When Crowley’s friend, blogging buddy and business partner Anathema announces her annual Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr, she is very adamant Crowley should join this year. The old-fashioned (but admittedly compassionate) man he gets assigned to send anonymous messages to every day until Christmas sounds awfully similar to the fussy bookseller that his friends adore, yet Crowley tries to avoid at all costs. But surely his friends would have mentioned if Aziraphale had taken an interest in the Bad Omens fandom as well… right? Or: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Santa Tumblr AU.

[five-and-dimes]

🍀🍀🍀

Ah, immortal throuple my beloved. I have a bunch of fic ideas for follow-ups to "Every Hand to Hold", and currently it's all clustered together in a single doc, but here's a scene I've had in my head for a while that you've finally motivated me to actually type out! 💕 This is from the fic where Hob and Calliope have dedicated themselves to wooing Dream properly:

Hob wanted to get to the pub early to make sure he could grab a decent table for them. Something by the window, a little out of the way from where the crowds tended to gather and get the loudest. As he turns the corner though, he is halted by the sight of Dream already there.  Dream’s dark silhouette is stark and recognizable even on opposite ends of the block. He is standing just beside the pub entrance, facing away from Hob. Hob smiles to himself, a little giddy that Dream had wanted to be early too. He starts walking again, and is just opening his mouth to call out when Dream turns. His gaze is downcast, and he looks… sad, and scared, and like he is mostly likely saying not very nice things in his head.  And he is holding a red rose.  Slowing to a stop, Hob feels frozen as he watches. Dream hasn’t seen him yet, is too focused on the flower in his hand as he bites his lips raw. Finally, Hob sees his shoulders slump, deflated and defeated. Dream turns to enter the pub, and as he does, he tosses the rose onto the ground, abandoning it.  There is a long moment where Hob still feels rooted to the ground, brow furrowed as he replays the scene in his head. When he walks up to the entrance, he kneels down to scoop the rose off the ground. It is beautiful. A little battered on the side it had landed on, but vibrant and lovely, the thorns carefully snipped and a few picturesque leaves still attached to the stem. It is beautiful, and thoughtful, and so very sweet, and all Hob can think about is how Dream seems constantly convinced that he is too much. As though giving Hob a flower on a date would somehow scare him off.  When he finally steps into the pub, he finds Dream quickly, grinning when he sees that he has snagged the exact table Hob was hoping for. Catching his eye, Dream smiles shyly, giving him a small wave as he makes his way over. But as he gets closer, Hob sees the exact moment Dream spots the rose tucked into the lapel of his blazer. His face goes bright red, his shoulders hitched up around his ears as he drops his gaze to the table, looking like he would like nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.  Hob has to nearly crouch to plant a soft kiss on Dream’s cheek, “Thank you,” he whispers, “it’s lovely.” As he sits in the chair across from him, Dream glances up warily, searching for any sign of Hob being mocking or disingenuous. But Hob only smiles, “I’m embarrassed I didn’t get you anything. If I don’t muck it up completely, I promise I’ll do better on the second date.” It breaks his heart to see the surprise on Dream’s face at the mention of a second date. “You don’t have to,” Dream replies softly. “I know,” Hob smiles sadly. Dream looks lost, and overwhelmed, so Hob reaches out to take his hand and starts rambling about his day, only pausing when they place their drink orders. Slowly, Dream relaxes, smiles a little easier, chimes in with his own comments and stories. At the end of the night, Hob walks him home like a gentleman, kisses him a little less like a gentleman, and then politely declines the invite upstairs, promising to call him tomorrow. When he gets home, he puts the rose in a vase and hugs Calliope tight, burying his face in her neck. “Flowers,” he chokes out, “On your date, you should get him flowers.”

[gullemec]

Lion's Den

Golden Cage - Chapter Three

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: A late-night stake out with Butcher turns into something unexpected. You and Hughie embark on your highest-stakes mission yet.

Warnings: mentions of death, depictions of grief, language, alcohol use, smoking, Homelander is his own trigger warning, needle injection, body horror/gore, blood, murder, explosions

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7k

A/N: This chapter contains one of the first scenes I ever came up with for this fic and I'm super proud of how it turned out. Thanks for reading <3

Your chest heaves in fits of laughter, the sound escaping in gleeful bursts that ripple through the warm summer air. Hair floating behind you like the tail of a comet, catching the light as it swirls and dances. The soft fabric of your dress billows around you, its folds fluttering with every swing. Your toes stretch forward, daring to brush against the edge of the sky. For a fleeting moment, a hint of fear creeps into your belly. 

Too high, too fast. 

But then there are hands at your back, firm and steady, guiding you. A gentle push, a quiet assurance. The embrace that follows is warm and full, carrying the familiar floral scent of comfort, safety, and love.

Nothing can hurt you now, not while I’m around.

Your high school prom. A shimmering haze of hairspray and perfume, your gown a vibrant turquoise that catches the light like sunlit waves. Awkward poses frozen in the flash of cameras. Corsages pinned with trembling hands. Laughter and whispers shared between girlfriends as music thrums faintly in the distance.

And then her voice, soft yet full of pride, as she peers at you from behind the lens. Her eyes crinkle with warmth, her smile radiating maternal joy.

So beautiful. So special. I love you so much. 

Later, a university acceptance. The email you read over and over, half in disbelief, and the student visa that followed. A one-way plane ticket tucked carefully into your carry-on. At the airport, the crowd swirls around you in a blur of movement and sound, but all you feel is her arms wrapping tightly around you, her lips pressing a kiss to your temple. You promise to call every weekend, visit every holiday.

You're so smart. I'm so proud of you. You can do anything you set your mind to. 

And you believed her. You always believed her.

The fatherly absence always stung. The missed recitals, forgotten birthdays, the empty chairs at family dinners. He was a phantom presence, his love expressed through impersonal checks and extravagant gifts, always with a neatly written card promising: Next time. When things aren't so crazy at work.

But she was enough. More than enough. Her laughter, her warmth, her unwavering belief in you filled every void he left behind.

Until the night it didn’t.

A phone call at 1AM, shattering the quiet of your dorm room. Your heart lurching as you fumble for the phone, squinting against the harsh glow of the screen. The voice on the other end is jumbled, nonsensical, the words bleeding together.

There's been an accident. I'm so sorry. 

Mourners clad in black gather under a colorless sky, their umbrellas dotting the cemetery like wilted flowers. The rain is steady but light, just enough to soak through the fabric of your dress and chill your skin. A closed casket sits before you, a hollow, unyielding box you can’t bring yourself to approach. You really shouldn’t see her like this. It’s for the best, the funeral director told you. The six foot deep trench yawning before you, her new home. Your father stands beside you, his hand resting awkwardly on your shoulder. His touch feels foreign, unwelcome, but you don’t shrug him off. You don’t have the energy.

It's okay. You'll be alright. Don't cry. 

But how can you not? How can you not cry when the one person who made the world feel safe, who saw the best in you even when you couldn’t, is gone?

You stare at the grave, your vision blurring as raindrops mingle with tears, and you wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again.

~~~

The sticky heat of the laundromat clings to your skin like a second layer, oppressive and inescapable. The hard plastic of the school chair you’re perched on digs into your thighs, leaving faint indentations every time you shift your weight. You adjust your tank top, its damp fabric sticking stubbornly to your back, and glance at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time.

The rhythmic hum and occasional clang of the washers and dryers should be soothing, but it only grates on your nerves. Across the aisle, an elderly woman works on a crossword puzzle, her lips moving soundlessly as she taps her pen against her chin. She’s utterly oblivious to the undercurrent of anxiety rolling off of you.

You’ve been here nearly half an hour.

Where the fuck are the Boys?

Your mind begins to spiral. Had they changed their minds about bringing you into the fold? Decided it was too risky to work with someone so closely tied to CytoGenix and Vought? It wouldn’t make sense—Starlight works with them, after all. Starlight, who comforted you when you were on the verge of breaking, who fought on your behalf, who insisted you call her Annie.

No, they hadn’t forgotten about you. They were just being cautious, you reason. But the nagging thought lingers. Maybe they’ve written you off after all.

You’re startled out of your reverie by movement behind the abandoned front desk. A familiar head pops up. It’s Frenchie, grinning and offering a quick wave to follow.

You jump to your feet, abandoning the chair with such urgency that the crossword woman glances up, giving you a sidelong look. You don’t care. You follow Frenchie through the hidden doorway and down the creaking staircase to the basement.

The Boys are gathered in their usual disorganized fashion. MM leans back in a chair with his arms crossed, Hughie paces idly, and Kimiko sits cross-legged on the floor, her sharp eyes scanning the room with quiet intensity. Butcher, as always, is the picture of brooding discontent, his trench coat draped over the back of the couch.

Annie is the first to notice you, her face lighting up as she waves you over. “Hey, you made it! Just in time for the riveting sixth hour of our surveillance party. So far, the highlights include... absolutely nothing. But hey, fingers crossed for the next six.” Her words are drenched in sarcasm, but her grin is infectious, and you find yourself laughing despite yourself.

“Ah, don’t listen to her,” Frenchie says, gesturing grandly as he flops into a chair. “It is not nothing. We are detectives, uncovering the truths of the universe!”

“Yeah, well, the truths of the universe are boring as hell,” Hughie mutters.

Butcher throws him a sharp look. “You’d think babysitting a couple of blinking dots was rocket science, the way you’re whining about it.”

Your attention shifts to the screen dominating the far wall, where two red dots move steadily across a digital map of Manhattan.

“Who are we watching?” you ask, curiosity overtaking your nerves.

“Your dear ol’ dad and his ball and chain,” Butcher says without looking at you, nodding toward the screen. “Been swannin’ around the city all bloody day. No idea where they’re off to next.”

You squint at the map, noting the dots’ meandering paths through Manhattan. “Yeah, they’re networking,” you say, rolling your eyes. “That’s what they call it when they spend hours sipping $500 bottles of wine with their friend and patting each other on the back for being obscenely rich. My dad swears it’s ‘essential for business,’ but it’s just an excuse to indulge.”

Butcher huffs out a low chuckle. “Sounds about right. It’s all bollocks, anyway. Rich pricks just finding new ways to circle jerk each other.”

You snort, caught off guard by the crude but accurate assessment. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

Butcher starts filling you in on the day’s surveillance. You sit beside him on the couch, leaning in as he explains the patterns of movement they’ve been tracking, the occasional stops your father and Monica have made, and how they’ve been prioritizing intercepting conversations with the bugs. His voice is low and steady, and for a moment, you forget everything else, your nerves, your exhaustion, even the slight embarrassment of sitting so close to him.

For the rest of the evening, the group takes turns monitoring the screen, scribbling down notes about the movements of the little red dots. The mundane nature of the task feels a little silly considering the high-stakes world you’ve stepped into, but you don’t mind. You feel like you’re contributing, even if only in a small way.

At one point, Hughie grumbles, “You know, we don’t have to watch this in real time. Everything’s being recorded. We could just check back later.”

Butcher doesn’t even look at him. “And if they do somethin’ worth jumpin’ on? You wanna miss it, do ya?”

Hughie mutters something under his breath, and Annie shoots you a knowing grin. “He’s been like this all day. Hyper-focused and grumpy as hell. Don’t take it personally.”

You glance at Butcher, his jaw tight as he studies the screen, and feel a pang of understanding. It’s not just determination driving him; it’s something deeper. Something raw and unresolved. You’ve seen that look before—in the mirror.

The grief radiating from him is palpable, even if he hides it well. You don’t know the details, but you can sense it. Loss has a way of marking people, leaving a shadow that never fully fades.

It draws you to him.

Misery loves company, you suppose. 

~~~

The clock reads just past midnight, and the room hums with the kind of stillness that makes every creak of the old laundromat basement feel loud. The dim light casts long shadows over the haphazard mess of wires, surveillance monitors, and makeshift furniture. It’s just you and Butcher now. The others have drifted off to sleep or left for the night.

MM had slipped out hours ago, muttering something about tucking Janine into bed. Hughie and Annie left together not long after, their quiet farewells fading into the night. Frenchie and Kimiko are sprawled together on a cot in the next room, limbs entangled in quiet comfort.

The audio transmitters have been silent for hours. The dots on the tracker map haven’t moved, signifying the cars have both come to rest at the CytoGenix office. Your father and Monica must be asleep in the office quarters. You glance at the dormant monitors, feeling the weight of the lull settle in your bones.

“Think you’ll stay awake much longer?” you ask, stretching to ease the stiffness in your back.

Butcher, leaning against the armrest of the couch, shrugs. “Suppose so. Don’t usually sleep ‘til mornin’.” He watches you with a detached air, like he’s trying to gauge why you’re still here. “You can head home if you like.”

You nod absently but don’t make a move to leave.

The truth is, you don’t want to go. The long hours of surveillance have been uneventful, sure, but there’s something about the waiting, the anticipation, that grips you. Every crackle of static, every blip on the tracker, feels like it could be the moment everything changes.

And the alternative? Returning to your empty loft, with its hollow silence and the weight of your own thoughts? No contest.

You hedge your bets with William Butcher. 

“Mind if I stay?” you ask, careful to keep your tone light.

He gives you a sideways look, one brow quirking upward. It’s a look that says, Why the hell would you want to do that?

You respond by flopping back down on the couch next to him,  pretending the blank computer monitor is the most fascinating thing in the room. You can feel his stare lingering on you, his skepticism practically radiating.

“So,” you say, assuming an air of casualty about you, aloof and haughty. “How many people have you kidnapped?”

Butcher snorts, leaning back with his arms crossed. “That’s usually a second date kinda question.”

You smirk, meeting his dry humor with your own. “So you make a habit of kidnapping young women, then?”

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

Feigning shock, you gasp and place a hand on your chest. “I’m your first? I’m flattered.”

For a moment, his face contorts into genuine bemusement. “Hardly,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Your laughter bubbles up, filling the room with a warmth you hadn’t expected. There’s something oddly satisfying about getting under Butcher’s skin, peeling back layers of his gruff exterior.

When your laughter subsides, he shifts the conversation. “How long you been workin’ for your dad?”

“Six months. Six long months.” You inhale deeply. “I moved home after graduating university. Cambridge, actually. Started interning at his company pretty much right away. It wasn't really my choice, you know? But I do it because…” 

Shit. What do you say? Because having your father's approval means regaining some small shred of self-confidence? Because Monica's preoccupation with your wardrobe, despite her infuriating mannerisms and less than ten-year age gap with you, feels just enough like motherly love that you're willing to entertain it? Because you're so goddamn desperate for love and belonging that you'd lick it off a knife at this point?

“Because it's the right thing to do,” you say finally. And really, is there a better answer than that? 

He nods, his expression softening slightly, though his eyes remain sharp. “And how’s that workin’ out for you?”

You hesitate, tempted to spill everything—the suffocating expectations, the desperate need for approval, the resentment simmering beneath it all. But you settle for a noncommittal shrug.

“What about you?” you counter. “How long have you been in the Supe-killing business?”

His grin is slow and wolfish, the kind that sends a ripple of unease down your spine even as it intrigues you. “Too damn long.”

 Shit, he's charming. 

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, swapping stories that seem to stretch the hours until they blur. You tell him about your time at Cambridge, the interns at CytoGenix who annoy you, the monotonous ways you fill your free time. He lets you in on how the Boys were first formed, telling you all about a remarkable sounding woman named Grace Mallory. He offers you an abridged version of what happened to his late wife, Becca. The conversation, which began light and easy, takes a quieter, heavier turn as the night stretches on.

Butcher leans back, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the room. He swirls whiskey in a glass, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light. “You ever love someone so much it felt like they were the center of your whole bloody world?”

The question catches you off guard. You pause, searching his face. “Yeah. My mom.”

He nods faintly, the corner of his mouth pulling into a bittersweet smile. “Becca was that for me. She was my whole world. Smart, stubborn as hell… too good for the likes of me, if I’m being honest. But she had this way of makin’ you believe in yourself, y’know? Like you were worth somethin’, even when you knew you weren’t.”

There’s a softness in his voice, a vulnerability that makes your chest tighten. You don’t interrupt, sensing how rare these moments are for him.

“I thought I’d done it, beaten the odds,” he continues, his voice quieter now. “Found somethin’ good, somethin’ real. And for a while, I had it. We had it. Then one day, it’s just... gone.”

You don’t know what to say, how to respond to this sudden vulnerability in the stoic man.

“What happened after she was gone… it weren’t just grief. It was like someone ripped my bloody soul out and left me with nothing but rage. I didn’t know how to function without her. I still don’t, most days.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away, as if the memories are too much to face. You see his fist clench, knuckles turning white.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “She needed me, and I failed her. And after that, I had nothin’ left to lose. So I made it my mission to take down the bastards who took her from me. All of ‘em. Vought. Homelander. Every Supe who thinks they can play god.”

You reach out hesitantly, your hand brushing against his arm. “Butcher… none of that was your fault. What happened to Becca… it wasn’t on you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe not directly, but I didn’t exactly make it easy for her, did I? I put her in the crosshairs just by bein’ me. She deserved better. Better than me, better than this whole bloody mess.”

You sit in silence for a moment, letting his words settle between you. “She loved you, though,” you say softly. “It sounds like she really loved you.”

He exhales sharply, his expression hardening as if trying to shake off the vulnerability. “Yeah. And look where it got her.”

You don’t know what to say to that, the weight of his pain pressing down on you. For all his bravado, for all his rage and resilience, there’s a part of him that’s still broken, still carrying the ghost of Becca with him everywhere he goes.

“You’re not just fighting for revenge, Butcher,” you say finally. “You’re fighting because you want to make sure no one else has to go through what you did. That’s worth something.”

He looks at you then, his gaze softening for a fleeting moment. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But it don’t bring her back, does it?”

You shake your head, your throat tightening. “No. But it means her loss wasn’t meaningless. You’re doing something with it. And that matters.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence feels heavy but not uncomfortable, as if the words that needed to be said are enough to fill the space between you. Butcher just sits there, his expression unreadable, and you wonder if there’s anything more you can say.

So you offer him stories of your mother, warm pockets of safety and love tucked away in the otherwise chaotic mess of your childhood. You tell him about the way she’d hum old jazz standards as she folded laundry, the soft, lilting tunes filling the house with a strange kind of peace. You remember how Sunday mornings smelled of pancakes and maple syrup, her insistence on cooking breakfast herself rather than letting the kitchen staff take over. Those moments were hers, small rebellions in a life that otherwise wasn’t her own.

“She wasn’t perfect,” you admit, picking lint from the couch. “But she tried. She did her best to give me... something good. Something that wasn’t him.”

Butcher leans back, watching you with a quiet intensity. “Your dad?”

You nod, your lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Mom stayed with him for years, not because she wanted to, God knows she didn’t, but because she was terrified of what would happen if she left. He would’ve dragged her through every court in the state if she tried to take me. And with his money? His connections? She didn’t stand a chance. So she stayed. For me.”

Butcher nods, his expression guarded but attentive. “Sounds like she had some steel in her.”

“She did,” you admit, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “But steel can break, too. He wore her down, little by little. Made her feel small, worthless, like she was lucky to even be in his orbit. And then…” You hesitate, swallowing hard. “Then there was Monica.”

Butcher curses under his breath at the mention of her name and you can’t help but laugh.

“My dad didn’t even wait six months after my mom died before marrying her,” you say, your voice laced with bitterness and resentment. “She’s this perfect little trophy wife. Perfect hair, perfect nails, perfect clothes. She treats me like I’m some stray dog she’s graciously let into her perfect little world. Every look, every word, it’s like she’s reminding me I don’t belong. God, I can’t fucking stand her.”

“She sounds like a right piece of work,” Butcher says, his tone laced with disdain. “For the record, I’d never confuse you for her. Frenchie and Hughie are just idiots.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thanks, I guess?”

It's comfortable, this dialogue between the two of you. He's sarcastic, sure, and rough around the edges, but he listens to you when you speak, never cutting you off or zoning out mid-sentence. But above all, you realize, you feel safe with the man. 

The two of you are engrossed in a heated discussion about just how deep the Vought rabbit hole goes when the crackle of the audio transmitter cuts through your banter like a blade, and you both snap to attention. Your father's voice hums through. You glance at the computer clock: 4AM. It's not unusual for him to get up this early to start his work day; his associates know to remain on standby to accommodate his erratic working hours. 

“Henry, it's Stanley.”

Your ears perk up at the name. You know Henry, having worked alongside him throughout your internship. 

Your stomach knots. You mouth quality control to Butcher, who nods, his expression sharpening.

“Listen, my wife wants to bring her friends down for a presentation on what you’ve been working on. I told her she could bring them Monday at ten.”

There’s a pause, then a heavy sigh from your father, the kind you’ve come to dread. A sigh that meant dissatisfaction, and god help the man who dissatisfied Stanley Morgan. You ground yourself, remembering that you are here in this laundromat basement with Butcher, safe.

“Look, Henry, I'm tired of you complaining about cutting corners. You're already way behind schedule, so just do whatever you have to do, and give my wife and her friends a good show, alright?”

You hear the phone receiver land in its cradle with a satisfying click. 

You turn to look at Butcher, finding a devious smile on his face. You return it, beaming at him. Finally, a lead. 

“Monday at ten,” he repeats, his voice practically dripping with glee. “How’s that work for you, sweetheart?”

You can’t help it. You beam back at him, the thrill of finally having a lead coursing through you. For the first time in a long time you no longer feel like you’re treading water. You’re moving forward.

~~~

Sunlight filters through your eyelids, prying you from a restful sleep. You squirm against the intrusion, desperate for a few more minutes of oblivion. Your hand reaches instinctively for your alarm clock, searching for the familiar plastic edge atop your side table. Instead, your fingers meet only air.

Your eyes flutter open, and the world comes into focus. You’re not in your room. The chipped paint on the walls and the musty smell of the basement remind you of where you are—the couch, the monitors, the remnants of last night’s vigil. And then it hits you.

You freeze, gaze snapping to the far end of the faded floral couch. Butcher.

He’s sprawled out awkwardly, face mashed into the armrest, one arm hanging limply over the side. The other, to your horror, is resting on your leg, his large hand curled protectively around your calf.

Shit. 

The memories flood back. You’d celebrated the breakthrough, the first solid lead since you joined. There was laughter, more than you’d ever expected to share with Butcher, and a quiet, companionable silence as the adrenaline faded. Somewhere in between, exhaustion had claimed you.

You’d promised him you’d stay awake. Promised you’d call a taxi as soon as the sky started to lighten. But here you are, wrapped in a scratchy blanket you don’t remember asking for, with Butcher asleep next to you like you’d both done this a hundred times before.

Heat floods your face, embarrassment unfurling in your chest. Embarrassment that you'd fallen asleep on the job, despite your protests that you were fine. Embarrassment that you'd let Butcher see you so vulnerable. But more than that, you feel embarrassed at how deeply and comfortably you’d slept, nestled on a decrepit couch with a man already too large for the shabby piece of furniture, more comfortably than you'd ever slept in your King-size memory foam bed at home.

But you're clearly not that embarrassed, because you give yourself several long, lingering moments to let the warmth soak into your bones. 

With great effort, you shift, slowly extracting your leg from beneath his hand. The warmth lingers as you pull yourself upright, and you let out a soft sigh of relief. The motion is enough to wake Butcher.

He jerks upright with a sharp inhale, eyes wild for a split second before they focus on you. His hair is a tousled mess, and his expression shifts from alertness to something resembling guilt.

“What’s all this?” he mumbles, his voice gravelly with sleep. His gaze flicks to the abandoned blanket, then to you hastily shoving your things into your bag. “Where you off to in such a rush?”

“I, uh…” You avoid his eyes, too flustered to form a coherent excuse. “I just—I need to get going.”

Realization dawns on his face. He glances back at the couch, then down at himself. “Ah, shit,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to... y’know.” He gestures vaguely, his expression unusually sheepish. “Thought you might be cold, that’s all.”

You freeze mid-step, one hand gripping the doorframe. His tone is softer than you expect, less of the brash bravado you’ve grown used to.

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, your voice tight. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” he counters, leaning forward now, elbows on his knees. His dark eyes are sharper, scrutinizing you even in his groggy state. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I just… I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep,” you say, a bit too fast. “I should’ve gone home last night.”

He snorts softly, leaning back against the couch. “You and me both, then. Not like I planned to kip here either.”

You glance at him, your rush to leave faltering at the casual way he shrugs it off.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” he continues, voice dropping into something softer, almost teasing. “Not like you drooled on me or anythin’. Far as disasters go, I reckon this one’s survivable.”

A small laugh escapes you before you can stop it. He smirks, pleased with himself, and the tension in your shoulders eases.

“Thanks for the blanket,” you murmur, glancing down at it again.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, waving a hand dismissively. “You looked knackered. Figured it was the least I could do after you went an’ pulled a late one with me.”

You nod, unsure of what to say, the warmth from his small gesture still lingering. You glance toward the stairs, bag in hand, ready to leave but no longer feeling the need to escape.

“Monday,” you say, breaking the silence. “We’ll need everyone ready. Let Hughie know?”

He nods, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Got it. You take care, yeah?”

With one last look at him, still sprawled on the couch, already reaching for his phone, you head up the stairs. The door creaks as you push it open, sunlight spilling into the hallway.

As you push the door open and head up the stairs, you hear him mutter something under his breath, probably a jab at your dramatics. You don’t turn back. The slam of the door echoes behind you, but his gravelly voice lingers, like the warmth of the blanket you left behind.

~~~

It's Monday. 

The air outside the laundromat is brisk, carrying with it the faint metallic tang of the city morning. You lean against the brick wall, one hand stuffed into the pocket of your coat while the other holds a cigarette between your fingers. The cherry glows faintly as you inhale, the smoke curling into the cold air like a soft exhale.

You really don’t try to make a habit of smoking, but your nerves are buzzing under your skin like live wires and the cigarette between your fingers feels like the only thing tethering you to reality right now.

The faint squeak of boots on pavement announces Butcher before you see him. He rounds the corner, a thermos in one hand, his coat hanging open like he couldn’t be bothered to button it up against the chill. His eyes land on you, and his brows jump just slightly, surprise flashing across his face like a flickering bulb.

“Didn’t peg you for a smoker,” he says, voice thick with that familiar edge of mockery. “What is it? Bit of rebellion against Daddy’s company policy?”

You exhale a stream of smoke, turning your head so it doesn’t blow in his direction. “Something like that,” you reply dryly. “Don’t tell HR.”

He snorts, stepping closer. “Secret’s safe with me.” He gives you a once-over, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Though I’ve gotta say, not exactly the picture I had of you. Thought you were more the yoga-and-juice-cleanse type.”

“I contain multitudes,” you say simply, flicking ash from the end of the cigarette.

“That you do,” he murmurs, his tone quieter now, less biting. He digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a crumpled pack of smokes, shaking it slightly to reveal one lone cigarette. “Want another for the road?”

You glance at the cigarette, then back at him, arching a brow. “Didn’t think you were the sharing type.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he says with a crooked grin, lighting it with a battered silver lighter. He takes a long drag and lets the smoke curl out of his mouth slowly. “Just figured it might take the edge off before you head in.”

You hesitate, then shrug. “Alright.” You take the offered cigarette, lighting it with your own lighter. The shared silence that follows is strangely companionable, the kind you wouldn’t have expected when you first met him.

“You nervous?” he asks after a beat, his voice softer than usual.

“Would it matter if I was?”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze sharper than you’re comfortable with. “It’s good to be nervous,” he finally says. “Means you’re payin’ attention. It’s when you stop that you get sloppy. Or worse, dead.”

“Comforting,” you say wryly, taking another drag.

He smirks, tilting his head toward the laundromat. “Come on. Hughie’ll start wringin’ his hands if we’re out here much longer.”

You stub out the cigarette on the brick wall, tucking the butt into a pocket so it doesn’t litter the street. Butcher watches this with a faintly amused expression but says nothing.

As the two of you head inside, the air between you feels lighter, the tension from earlier diffused into the cold morning. Hughie looks up from the monitors, his face a mix of relief and nervous energy.

“Ready?” he asks, glancing between you and Butcher.

Butcher claps him on the shoulder, all mock bravado. “’Course we are. Let’s get on with it, then.”

You follow Butcher and Hughie out, a small ember of calm glowing within you.

~~~

Exiting Butcher's discreetly parked van, you nudge Hughie down the narrow alley, leading the way toward your old smoking spot. It’s quiet here, and the less attention you draw, the better. You swipe your ID pass through the scanner, tossing a glance down the fluorescent-lit corridor. The hall stretches in that sterile, clinical way it always does, but today, it feels like a goddamn maze. It feels like you’re on the other side of a mirror, like you're not supposed to be here.

You bite back the urge to whisper “All clear!”  to Hughie, but you quickly swallow the words. It’s too risky; you know Butcher’s listening. One slip-up, and he’ll be all over you like a fucking rash, reminding you of your amateur status. You bite your tongue just in time to avoid the barrage of shit he’d throw at you later.

Inside the building, you inspect your new “intern.” You ditched your monogrammed designer lab coat in favor of a plain, CytoGenix-branded one, lifted from a storage closet. Nothing flashy. Hughie’s got one on too, also stolen, one of the last clean ones in the closet. You’ve opted for business casual today, trying to blend in as best you can.  In an effort to obscure yourself further, you'd styled your hair differently and worn fake glasses. You want to look like just another office drone. Like you belong.

“You good?” you ask Hughie, keeping your voice low. He nods, trying his best to look confident, but you catch that little tremor in his fingers as he adjusts the collar of his borrowed lab coat. Poor guy’s barely keeping it together, and you’re not doing much better yourself.

The mission, should everything go to plan, is simple. You and Hughie disguise yourselves as nameless interns puttering around in the lab, eavesdropping on Monica's tour. Once you figure out what it is they're working on in the lab, you quietly slip out and report back to Butcher in the van parked outside. Butcher who you've been avoiding since your makeshift sleepover. Butcher who, in turn, has seemingly rebuilt the cement walls of his gruff exterior that he let slip that night. Today feels just as much like a test as it does a reconnaissance mission. 

Here goes nothing. 

You guide Hughie to the Quality Control lab. Thankfully it's only three floors down into the basement, as Hughie blanches when you explain just how deep into the earth CytoGenix’s headquarters go. 

When you get to the lab, you spot the small group of VIPs that’s gathered for the tail end of the tour. Perfect timing. 

“So, as you can see, thanks to the cutting edge technologies at our fingertips, CytoGenix is leading the way in pharmaceutical breakthroughs,” says the chipper tour guide. Monica stands with the group, preening under Homelander and Ashley Barrett’s attention. The gooseflesh on your arms prickle at the sight of the evil Supe and corrupt CEO. 

The tour guide gestures toward a large window at the back of the lab. “Now, if everyone could follow me,” she chirps, her voice grating, “we’d like to give you all a demonstration of V2’s first human test subject!”

Your stomach twists. Human test subject. You weren't sure what you were expecting from this tour, but it wasn't this. The lab’s always been about gene splicing and advanced therapies, but this? This is something else. Something darker. Was your father’s company involved in testing on people, or was this just the tip of a very fucked up iceberg?

The crowd gathers around the window, tittering with excitement. You and Hughie hang back, miming preoccupation with the lab supplies laying around. 

A light flickers on, illuminating the dark window. A two-way mirror. Inside, the room is featureless and blindingly white, save for a young man curled up in the corner, his face drawn and terrified. As the light flickers on, he jerks upright, eyes wide with panic. You feel your gut twist.

A woman enters the room, clad in the same branded lab coat that you wear now. She carries a syringe filled with green liquid that seems to emit a glow from within. She murmurs something to the young man, who hesitantly rolls his sleeve up, offering his arm to her. She injects the liquid, taking a long step backward. 

Then the screaming starts.

Purple veins spread from the injection site, skin rippling unnaturally, his body contorting in ways that aren’t human. Suddenly the arm that had been injected begins to elongate, stretching into a grotesque tentacle. You can hear the faintest squelching sound as his body twists. The man stares at his arm in horror, mouth gaping, before his face suddenly goes slack, vacant eyes lolling toward the female lab technician. 

The woman is scrambling toward the door she came in through, but it's closed now, flush against the wall with no handle for her to grasp. She bangs and thrashes against the door, begging for someone to open the door and let her out. 

Then the tentacle shoots across the room, faster than you can react. It wraps around her head and jerks back. The sound of skin tearing from bone echoes in the sterile white room as her face is ripped off like peeling wallpaper. Her face hits the two-way mirror with a wet slap before her body collapses to the floor.

The tour guide quickly steps forward, flicking a switch on the wall. You hear a soft hiss as the room begins to fill with gas, the man's eyes rolling backward as he loses consciousness, slumping against the wall. The locked door is suddenly thrust open, and this time a man clad in biohazard gear enters. He makes a wide arc around the faceless lab tech, reaching down to grab the tentacle man around his armpits, dragging his limp body out of the room. The lights finally, blessedly, go out. 

The tour guide smiles like it’s all part of the show, like she’s done this a thousand times. The group is dead silent, some swaying with lightheadedness. Monica's eyes flit around the crowd, desperate for a reaction.

You can feel the tension in the air. Your hand clenches at your side, but you don’t dare look around. Not yet.

Then, slowly, the applause starts.

Clap. Clap. Clap. 

Homelander starts clapping slowly, grinning like a predator.

“Bravo!” he says, his voice rich with mock sincerity. “Truly remarkable.” He’s fucking giddy, practically glowing at what he just witnessed.

You, on the other hand, feel ill. There's no way that woman can't be dead. And the man… He seemed so afraid. There's no way he knew what would happen to him once he was injected. Was he dead now?

But then the crowd picks up, clapping, cheering. It’s all a fucking spectacle to them. Monica beams, her fake smile stretched to the limit.

“Everyone, V2!” she says, as if she’s introducing the next big thing at a tech expo.

More cheers.

“More potent than Compound V alone, V2 more reliably gives recipients powers in the A-tier or above,” she announces, spinning the whole thing like it's some kind of miracle drug. “It also inhibits the prefrontal cortex, meaning the Supes it produces will be more... suggestible. Easier to control.”

Homelander chuckles darkly. “So, a Supe lobotomy?” His voice is casual, but the tension in the air spikes.

Monica blinks, taken aback, but then her smile returns—brighter, more fixed. She can’t afford to offend him.

“Exactly what we need if we're going to make a Supe army,” Homelander agrees. “Excellent work, Monica.”

The crowd erupts in cheers again, and you feel like you're suffocating. The air is thick with their sick excitement, and you’re drowning in it.

 There was so much blood, so many little pieces of muscle and tissue painting the paper-white room, like a fucked up Rorschach. The man looked like he could have been younger than you. There's no way he knew what was going to happen to him, no one would ever agree to that. 

Monica's inhumanly white veneers are bared in a painful smile, beaming like a mother at what she'd help create. Was this how your mother died? Had she spent her last moments in fear and pain? It was a closed casket… Was that to hide the damage? Your heart starts to race. The air feels too thick, too hot. 

You catch yourself just as your vision darkens, hunching over a utility cart carrying empty test tubes. The tubes jostle, glass clinking, drawing the crowd's attention to you. Your hair, having fallen around your face, acts as a curtain separating you from the prying eyes. Still, you can feel the laser eyes on you, watching, only a moment away from thinking, Doesn't she look familiar? Is that Stanley's daughter? What's she doing here, with that guy? 

The woozy feeling in your body is immediately replaced with intense, soaring adrenaline. Before you can think, you make a break for it, keeping your head down to continue obscuring your face. Hughie follows, his steps frantic behind you.

The crowd hesitates before you hear quickening footsteps and yells. 

The frantic voice of a lab tech rings out “Homelander, no! No lasers in the lab!”

“Fuck!” You yank Hughie forward, forcing him to move faster.

The sound of lasers tearing through the air is unmistakable, the pops of small explosions echoing out. You dive into the stairwell, barely avoiding the beams as they scorch the air around you. The heat on your back makes your skin crawl.

You hear the security team yelling, but you don’t stop. You push forward, practically pulling Hughie up the stairs, praying like hell that the explosions Homelander triggered are buying you enough time. The sound of blood rushing in your ears deafens you to the metal clattering your steps make as you race to reach the ground floor. 

You burst out of the stairwell back into those fluorescent lights, not bothering to look upward on the chance that an errant glance might get caught on security cameras. You head straight down the hall, not breaking speed, not letting go of Hughie until you're both careening down the alleyway. Butcher's white van is waiting exactly where you left it. 

Only, the door you just exited out of slams open, a chorus of feet smacking the cement twenty paces behind you. They're close, too damn close. 

The van is so close you can see the flecks of rust around the wheel wells, can almost read the vulgar bumper sticker barely clinging to the back door. But they're too close. You'll barely be able to close the doors behind you before the posse at your backs clamor around the vehicle, blocking Butcher's escape. 

You make a split second decision and pray to whatever greater being might be listening that it's a good one. 

You're vaguely aware of the van in your periphery as you speed past it, unable to see Butcher in the driver's seat, but knowing he's there nonetheless. What you don't see is his panic, the frantic foot on the gas pedal, the mental math trying to determine what the fuck you two dimwits are doing as you descend into the New York subway system.

@bluemerakis

@mystic-writings

@imherefordeanandbones

[iovestuck]

HOT CHOCOLATE FOR TWO ☆ 심재윤

staring. boyfriend ! jaeyun × girlfriend ! female oc

wc. 1.5k | genre. fluff, soft, a hint of angst, etc. | warnings. kissing, a bit suggestive if you look closely, doubts, assuming, super cute moments, etc.

iovestuck's notes. I wrote this yesterday and finished it three hours before Christmas ends in my timezone. I love this Christmas fic and almost cried at this special part of the fic. I hope you love this so much! Please listen to Feel Like by Gracie Abrams and songs that are gentle and soft while reading this fic.

masterlist

IT WAS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL HOLIDAYS. Some were out partying, some were in their homes with their family, and some were with their significant other. But there are a few that were alone during this special holiday. One of them was a female.

She didn't have a choice to be alone during Christmas, but because she was sick. She has no choice but to be home alone. Her boyfriend had plans for them, but because she was sick, it was canceled at the last minute. Her family and friends rang her doorbell to give her presents and she gave theirs.

Now, she was alone in the cold empty apartment. She was sitting in the living room looking at the Christmas tree. She looked at her gift bag next to the couch. The only gift that was left for her to give. She sighed as she looked at that blue gift bag. “Does he hate me?” She thought.

She curled up into her warm blanket even more. Still feeling sick but didn't want to waste the day in bed. She hated how sick she was during her favorite holiday. Nothing is worse than being sick during something you loved so much. She then looked at the soup her mother made that she hadn't touched. The guilt was so unbearable that she didn't have any appetite to eat or drink anything.

Her boyfriend planned the day, but because of her, everything was ruined. Suddenly, she heard someone punching her passcode. She didn't move from her spot since it was probably her mother checking on her. Closing her eyes, she felt so empty and tired.

She heard the front door closed and footsteps slowly making their way. A warm hand softly touched her forehead before a sigh was heard. She slowly opened her eyes before widening them. “Jaeyun?”

Her boyfriend softly smiled at her when he saw her eyes were opened. “Did I wake you up?” She shook her head. “No, I was awake before you came.” She took a minute before saying the next words, “Are you mad at me?” Jaeyun's eyes widened before shaking his head with no hesitation. “No, why would I be?”

Eunu felt more embarrassed after she heard what he said. “Well, I thought you did cause we have to cancel the plans that you made months ahead.” She looked from the distance, not wanting to meet his eyes. She could feel his hand over hers and gently squeeze it. “I'm not mad and would never be even if I made the plans months ahead and had to cancel it. You are more important than the plans. Plus, I have better plans for next year, and we can go on a date when you are better if it makes you feel better, Eunu.” He gently smiled at her. “Why did you ask, love?”

She slowly met his eyes, and tears suddenly started to form. “It just…you didn't come here until later, so I thought…” Jaeyun's eyes widened before they softened. “Oh! That's the reason?” She slowly nodded. He quickly let go of her hands and went somewhere in the room. She followed him with her eyes before he went where she couldn't see him. “Close your eyes, love.” Eunu closed her eyes just like he said. She could hear footsteps walking towards her, and the couch sank a bit.

“Okay open them,” he told her. She slowly opened her eyes, and her eyes sparkled with tears. “Oh my goodness, this is so beautiful,” she choked on her tears. Jaeyun reached his thumb to wipe her tears. “I am glad. This is why I was late. I was running to the mall to pick up this and another present that I ordered two days ago. Then, I was stuck in traffic for a while.” Eunu quickly hugged her boyfriend as tears were still falling. “I'm sorry for having doubts and assuming that you hate me.”

Jaeyun hugged her back tightly, but not too tight. “It's okay, love. I am sorry for making you feel that way. I want to surprise you.” She shook her head before slowly pulling away. He quickly wiped her tears with his thumb. “What is your other present?” He smiled. “Do you want me to put this bracelet first?” She nodded.

Her boyfriend took the bracelet out of the box and gently put it on her wrist. She looked at the silver bracelet with a smile on her face. “It's so beautiful.” Jaeyun then went somewhere for a while before coming back with a medium-sized bag. He sat back down in front of her and took out another box from the bag. “I love you so much. You are so perfect and precious. Most times, I don't deserve you. You are my light through my darkness.”

He opened the box, revealing a necklace with a ring in it. Eunu was in tears again when he said his little speech. “Do you remember your ring I gave you during our first anniversary?” She nodded, a bit confused about where this was going. “Remember that one night, you thought you lost it?”

She nodded even more confused about what was going on. “Well, I found it, and instead of giving it back to you. I went to my friend's shop who can do something like this and asked him to make a special necklace and put this ring in the middle since it's special for both of us.”

Jaeyun took a deep breath, so he didn't cry when he said the next words. “I am not proposing to you yet since we are still in our 4th year of being together, and you want to wait until we reach at least 6 years of being together. So this is a promise necklace and ring. I promise to ask you to marry you. I want to promise to be with you forever until our death. You are the love of my life, and I don't want anyone else but you. Will you be my promise too?”

By the time he finished, Eunu was sobbing a lot. She quickly nodded to his question. “Yes, I would love to be your promise, too!” Jaeyun felt tears falling when she said those words. He quickly hugged her again and kissed her neck softly. “Oh my goodness, I love you more than anything!”

“I love you, too!” They looked at each other as Jaeyun slowly pulled away. He gently rested his forehead against hers. Smiles were on both their lips. “Do you want me to put it on for you?” He asked her. “Sure,” she answered. He pulled away and helped her put the necklace on.

Once the necklace was around her, she looked down, gently took the necklace into her index finger and thumb before she looked at it. “It has our initials,” she smiled. Jaeyun nodded. “Yeah, I asked my friend to also carve our initials together on the ring.” She looked at him and smiled. “I love both of your presents. I have presents for you, too. It isn't as great as these, but I know you will still love it.”

She took the bag next to the couch and put it in front of them. “Open them.” She watched him nervously as he took out his presents. His eyes widened when he saw the first present. It was a mug that had a drawing of his dog, Layla and him playing in the snow with a snowman. “I drew the drawing when you were at work in the past few months. I know you love Layla so much, so I want to do something special. Last month, I went to the pottery store to make that mug for you.” Jaeyun hugged her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love. It's so beautiful.”

“I also have something else for you.” She signaled him to look in the bag more. He put down the mug on the table before opening the bag again. He slowly took out the item. His eyes widened. It was a Nintendo Switch and a few games that he wanted for the Switch. Including Animal Crossing New Horizons + Happy Home Paradise.

“I know you wanted a Nintendo Switch for a while and wanted to play these games with the help of your friends and your parents. We brought the games and the switch. Plus—she pulled out her own switch from behind her—I brought my own switch and brought the Animal Crossing New Horizons + Happy Home Paradise for myself, so we can connect together!”

“Thank you, love!” He put down the present that was in his hands and pulled her into a hug. She felt much better now. They stayed like that for a while. “Do you feel better now?” He broke the comfortable silence. She nodded. He kissed her forehead. “That's good. Let's have an at-home date for the rest of the day.”

She nodded, not wanting to say anything and just wanting to be in his arms. “We can watch a kdrama that you wanted to watch and make hot chocolate with marshmallows for the two of us.”

She nodded, agreeing with him as her eyes slowly closed. He kissed her forehead once again. “Merry Christmas, love. You are so perfect, and I love you more than anything else.” He whispered softly into her ears as she slowly fell asleep in his arms.

TAGLIST. @senascoooop ,

© 2024-2025 — all rights reserved to user iovestuck, please do not steal, plagiarise, or translate any of my works without prior permission from me !

[awardenandacrow]

[THE ALMOST KISS FULL SNIPPET]

NOTE: I have done this snippet in two parts, one from Naimeryn’s POV, and one from Lucanis’s. It’s been edited & expanded since the gif set triggered the initial snippet.

CW/TW: SO MUCH ANGST, body negativity

——————————————————————————

“How do you.. always do that?” He asked earnestly.

Naimeryn tilted her head so she could hear him better. “Do what?”

He spoke slightly louder, and her heart ached with sheer appreciation. “Break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom.”

She smiled slightly, trying to decide how she should respond. He deserved to have the sunlight shine through, to feel the warmth on his skin, to know he was alive, and cared for, and important. Before she could articulate any of it, he looked away, and said more to himself than to her,

“You deserve better than to deal with my mess.”

For a moment, she was taken aback. She knew he struggled with Spite, and of course the situation was challenging, but he thought *he* was a mess? He thought that made him… what? Undesirable?

“You’re more than what you’re going through,” Naimeryn shook her head, thinking of all the sweet things he was always doing, for every member of the team. How strong he was, for surviving the Ossuray. How disciplined he was, keeping Spite at bay as often and as well as he did. “And you wear it well.”

Lucanis looked surprised for a moment, then something else came over his face. A small smile, an unfamiliar spark in his eye. He straightened up slightly, closing the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he told her softly, placing his hand on the wall near her head and leaning towards her. Naimeryn’s heart was pounding in her ribcage, her eyes locked into that smoldering brown gaze.

She’d told him “it had been a while” since she’d had a first kiss, and joked she might need a reminder. What would he think if he knew it had been a lie, a bluff? That no one had ever afforded her such a touch… or that she’d never wanted one as badly as she did from him?

“Sometimes a bad idea is better,” she whispered.

“You like to walk a little close to the edge,” he mused, his eyes trailing down her face to her mouth. Sweet Creators, he wasn’t even touching her and she thought she might catch fire. He smelled of fresh coffee and blade oil.

Tentatively, she reached for him, her fingertips brushing his collar, trailing down to his waistcoat. He smiled and flicked his eyes back up to hers. He really was beautiful to behold when he smiled.

“So do you,” she reminded him, leaning forward slowly.

“At least I know I’m doing it,” he smirked, tilting his head and leaning in. Their faces were inches apart, and Naimeryn’s breath caught in her throat. Was she dreaming again? Her fingers flexed softly against his chest, just before their lips met.

His expression shifted, suddenly, and he looked almost pained. He pulled back and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I… I need to clear my head. Excuse me.”

And with that, without so much as another glance in her direction, he practically ran from the pantry.

Naimeryn couldn’t breathe. His scent clung to the air, filling her lungs so there was no room for anything else. The stone beneath her fingers suddenly felt like ice, but she couldn’t push herself off of the wall. She stared straight ahead, willing herself to form a thought, or to suck in a breath, or to move, but her body simply wouldn’t comply. The pain in her chest was debilitating.

Of course he didn’t kiss you, a familiar voice whispered in her head. You’re the awkward one. The clumsy one. The *ugly* one.

He’s made it *very* clear he doesn’t care for Grey Wardens. Why would *you* be an exception?

At least he came to his senses before you did something you’d regret.

You know they *always* think better of it before it goes too far.

There’s a reason you’ve never been kissed.

What would the others think? He deserves better than you anyway.

Someone more like *Neve*.

Naimeryn gasped for air, feeling weak and unsteady. Why would he…? She felt the tears prickling at the back of her eyes, and decided that was her cue to leave, as quickly as she could. She was suddenly free from whatever spell she’d been under, and she threw herself away from the wall, walking fast to get out of his space. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get as far away from this moment as possible.

She threw the kitchen doors open, head down, and started back across the courtyard. Assan squawked at her, but she waved her hand dismissively at him and crossed to the other side. She tripped on the stairs, regained her footing, and all but ran to the library door. She ripped open one, then the other. She bolted through it, and ran right into Taash, who seemed to be heading back to their room from the Eluvian chamber.

“Crisis averted — Rook?”

Rook held up one finger, managed to squeeze a wheezing “sorry” out around the lump in her throat, and started up the stairs — changed her mind. She needed to get out of here. She spun back around and headed to the stairs down instead.

“You’re not goin’ alone in that state,” Taash said, and started to follow. Naimeryn wanted to tell them no. But she couldn’t speak. Taash followed her silently, down the stairs, through the Eluvian, and into the Crossroads. Once she was there, she realized she didn’t know where to go. Weisshaupt was gone. She had nowhere to run to.

Naimeryn collapsed onto her knees and screamed. She gripped either side of her head and sobbed into her legs. Stupid, stupid Naimeryn.

Taash sat next to her, and put a tentative hand on her back. They sat there, together, until Naimeryn’s grief was spent.

Naimeryn sniffled, wiping her nose and eyes with the back of her hands as she slowly sat up. Taash withdrew their hand.

“Do you wanna go get our gear and go find some demons to punch?”

“I don’t think it’s Spite’s fault,” she mumbled.

“Doesn’t have to be for punching other demons to make you feel better.”

In spite of herself, Naimeryn chuckled. “Honestly Taash… I don’t know what I want to do.” She looked helplessly at her hands.

“I’m not really good at this — talking,” Taash said after a moment. “But if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”

Naimeryn opened her mouth to tell them no. To tell them she’d be fine eventually. Instead, it all came tumbling out. How she’d never belonged anywhere, how no one even wanted to claim her when she found a new home, how everyone she’d ever cared about, even her mother, had always held her at arms length. How she’d always known there was something so innately wrong with her, that she would forever be unloveable. How no matter what she did, it never seemed to earn her a place in the room.

How Lucanis had made her feel special, on occassion. Like maybe she wasn’t as ugly and broken and worthless as she’d always believed.

“But I…” Naimeryn wiped away a tear that escaped her resolve not to cry again. “I was wrong. Again. I guess.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, then she blurted the last piece out.

“He was gonna kiss me, Taash. And then he just… *didn’t.* And I don’t know if he wanted to, but felt like he shouldn’t, or if… I don’t know? He wanted to try it and the realized he didn’t? I don’t know if it was something *I* did, or if maybe Spite *did* do something…”

She sighed and stared helplessly down at her hands. “I just… don’t know.”

——————————————————————————

PART TWO: LUCANIS’S POV

CW/TW: mention of child abuse, suggestive dialogue

——————————————————————————

He watched her flee, across the kitchen without glancing towards the deck where he stood, across the courtyard. Neve stepped out of her room as she darted by, but she didn’t seem to notice the other mage as she all but fell down the stairs. She recovered, tore open the library door, and was gone. Neve watched her, then pivoted. When she spotted him, she crossed her arms across her chest. Mierda.

Lucanis turned his back to Neve, hoping that would be enough to deter her from investigating the Lighthouse’s newest mystery. He should have known better. A few moments later, the distinct sound of her leg clacked across the kitchen floor with enough force to give him pause. She was barely to the top of the stairs and already she was asking, and in a thunderous tone,

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

NOT A LIE.

“Shut up,” he snapped. Served him right for giving in to a demon’s goading in the first place.

“What did *Spite* do?”

I WANTED YOU TO KISS ROOK.

“Nothing, that I know of,” he ground out. *He’d* wanted to kiss Rook. Of course he had. Mierda, he’d been so close. What was wrong with him?

“Lucanis.”

He sighed and turned towards her, feeling a bit like he had as a child, on the receiving end of one of Caterina’s lectures… before her cane. He must have looked the mess he felt, because Neve was so taken aback at his expression she physically took a step back.

“What happened? And don’t say *nothing.*”

“I was stupid,” Lucanis admitted, and found himself quite incapable of keeping eye contact with her. “I thought I could… I don’t know. Sweep her off her feet. I’ve watched Illario pick up enough women. But, I choked.”

“Illario… may not be your best choice to model after for this,” Neve said with a strange tone, like she knew something he didn’t.

“He is the most successfully flirtatious person I know,” Lucanis said with a helpless shrug.

“Right, but… you don’t need to ‘pick up’ Rook.”

Lucanis frowned. “What do you mean?”

Neve crossed her arms again. “When Illario picks up women, I imagine he entices them into his bed, they have their fun, and the women go on their way. That’s not your goal, correct?”

“Mierda, no.”

“Right. And you don’t need to work that hard. Rook would have been in your bed every night for months now if you’d let her.”

His heart thudded in his chest, and Spite cackled.

“Neve —!“

“Don’t get it wrong. She worries about you, and she’s a sap,” Neve laughed and leaned on the railing. “She probably wants to sing you lullabies and keep Spite under control so you actually get some rest.”

ROOK’S BORING.

Lucanis smirked in spite of himself. That actually sounded… really nice. Then he frowned again. “That’s not her responsibility. Spite is my problem.”

Neve cocked one eyebrow at him. “Maybe, but she *is* a mage. And the leader of this team. And you *obviously* know you’re special to her, or you wouldn’t be up here punishing yourself for whatever it is you did.”

Lucanis sighed and pulled one hand through his hair. “I thought I could be more like him. Impress her.”

Neve suppressed a laugh. “I hate to tell you, but you don’t need to impress her, and you *won’t* do it by acting like your cousin. She doesn’t like Illario much.”

*She doesn’t *like* Illario.* Wasn’t that what Teia had said?

His frown deepened. “You… are not the first person to tell me that.”

Neve looked genuinely surprised. “Well, hopefully you don’t need a third to make you believe it.”

“What… what is it specifically she doesn’t like?”

Neve smiled gently and she patted him on the arm. “That he’s always trying to flirt his way into her pants.”

Lucanis swallowed thickly. “Oh.”

SO YOU FUCKED UP? ROOK DOESN’T LIKE FLIRTING?

“She… seemed into it,” Lucanis played it over in his head. Before he’d panicked… her breath had gotten so airy. And… she’d leaned in too, hadn’t she? And she’d *touched* him, and he’d thought for a moment she’d used one of her storm spells on him. He’d never felt anything like that before, from her touch or anyone else’s.

“She’s into *you,*” Neve rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to be a suave charmer. You just need to be you. Maybe give that a try next time.”

“I… don’t know if I deserve a ‘next time.’”

“Well, then,” Neve tilted her head pointedly at him, “should you get one, be sure not to squander it.”

And with that, she left him alone with his thoughts… and Spite.

No smooch 😔💔

[presleyslilbaby]

~A Little Gift~

(70’s!Elvis X OC!)

(TW: Potential misspellings-)

(This is just a short little story I wanted to write for Christmas. I really should be resting, but I can’t rest until my brain is empty, lol-)

“Gianna,” Elvis called for his Girlfriend, grabbing her attention, though scaring her a little. “Y-Yes…?” She softly stuttered out, subconsciously pushing her glasses up, a nervous habit she’d recently developed. Sighing, Elvis sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his side. “Angel, you’re hangin’ out alone.” He motioned around. “We got a whole Christmas party to tend to, Baby.” A guilty frown tugged at Gianna’s lips, wrapping her arms around herself instinctively. “I know…I just- You know I’m not good with people, El…” She mumbled. “A-And besides- I-I can’t really relate to any of the Guys…I’m not very fun to talk to…” “Oh, sure you are,” He patted her on the head, trying to make her feel better. “You’re heaps o’ fun to talk to. Why do ya’ think I asked you out, hm? ‘Cause you’re sweet, adorable, and you’re real silly. Don’t you let them thoughts get to ya’.”

Gianna hummed softly, leaning into Elvis’s plush body, turning more toward him to snuggle closer. “I just don’t want to embarrass myself…And besides, I don’t want to hear Joanne complaining about how I need to talk more…” Elvis frowned at that, pulling his aviators off before grabbing her jaw gently to make her look up at him. “Do not let your Sister dictate your life. If you ain’t ready to socialise jus’ yet, then you ain’t ready. I know how hard it is for you.” She smiled. “Thank you…I just feel guilty because you want to go mingle and stuff, and here I am…Keeping you here…” He shook his head, running his hand through her brown hair. “You ain’t keepin’ me here. I know I can go back out if I wanted. But I’d much rather prefer takin’ the time to make sure my best Girl’s doin’ all right.” Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against her nose. “Because I care ‘bout you, Honey. You’re my heart, my world. I’d do anythin’ to make you feel better.” At his heartfelt confession, Gianna’s lower lip began to tremble with emotion, tears starting to gather in her eyes. She sharply inhaled, fanning her face as she made a silly sound. “Don’t say things like that! You’ll make me cry!” She partially joked, blinking rapidly. Elvis let out a laugh, the sound echoing in her ears. “Well excuse me, li’l Lady! I was just’ tryin’ to tell you that I cared!” He grinned.

“Oh-“ Suddenly standing up, Elvis quickly excused himself from moment before returning with a small, wrapped gift. “For you, Angel.” He spoke with such softness, his voice in its own feeling like a warm blanket as it reached her ears. Taking the gift from his hands, Gianna began to carefully unwrap her present, having kept the habit of not ripping the paper like a barbarian from when she was a child to save for next Christmas. Opening the small velvety box, a quiet gasp escaped her lips, and tears sprang to her eyes yet again. It was a beautiful Golden band adorned with real diamonds on top, the size and shine of the ring reflecting the expenses of the gift. “Oh, Elvis…” She gasped. “This is so gorgeous…H-How much did you spend on this…???” As much as she loved the present, she couldn’t help but worry over the price.

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry ‘bout the price, Gigi. It’s just a li’l gift I got for my Baby.” “A little gift? Elvis, this is more than just a little gift…It’s- Fuck, it’s so amazing…” Gianna watched on as he took her hand in his, then after having taken the ring out of its box, he slowly and reverently slid it on her finger. “Not as amazing as the beautiful Girl wearin’ it.” He said, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing his lips to the back of it like a Gentleman. “…I love you so much…” She whispered as a tear slipped past her eye. He gently brushed it away with his thumb. “I love you too, Cookie.” He said.

“Merry Christmas, Gianna.”

Merry Christmas…”

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 7

A/N: A Christmas surprise! Two chapters in one day! Merry Christmas, friends! Masterlist.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: none, this is pretty damn fluffy.

Word count: ~3.2k

“That's a fuck yes, babe.” He giggles and tickles her sides excitedly and they laugh together on the big-enough couch, naked and unafraid of the future… for now.

******

That night passes with Elvis and Jo talking for most of it until they finally fall asleep in bed all wrapped around each other just before sunrise. He's convinced her to stay home from work, so they make love when they wake up and then lay in bed until almost 3pm. Finally, she drags him out of bed and they spend the rest of the day in the kitchen. She has the idea for them to make Christmas candy and a gingerbread house. What they really make is a mess, but they have a blast licking icing and chocolate off of each other. They settle into the TV room with It’s a Wonderful Life on the projector and the candy they made that Elvis hasn't eaten yet. All in all, it's a beautiful day together and when they settle in bed at the end of it, Elvis is ready to spend every day like that. He mentions something to that effect to Jo and she makes a nervous sound.

“What's that sound for, Tink?” She looks at him with an awkwardly pained smile.

“I have to go home tomorrow.”

“Home?” He's confused, thinking she's already at home.

“To see my parents, I mean. For Christmas Eve.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve?” She rolls her eyes and giggles.

“Yes. It is. And my parents always have this big holiday party for the family.”

“Oh.” He gets a little sad thinking that he'll have to spend the next day without her.

“You could come with me.” She says cautiously. Elvis makes a thinking face.

“How many people?”

“Just my mom and stepdad and my step-siblings. You've already met my brother-in-law and niece. I also have a stepbrother who is married with 3 kids. My aunt and uncle will probably be there too. They don't have any kids, so they usually come to our holiday things. But that's all. Not a huge crowd.” She smiles and looks at him hopefully. He grumbles, knowing that he's going to have a hard time telling her no.

“Okay. I already went to a wedding and survived. I guess I can go to a Christmas party.” She squeals and snuggles into his chest.

“I love you so much.” He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head.

“I love you too, Tink.”

******

Elvis stands in his closet in his robe, staring at the rows and rows of clothing. They're late and he knows it, but he has no idea what on earth he should wear to a family Christmas party. All of his clothing is either formal paparazzi-worthy outfits, jumpsuits, clothes that don't fit him, or tracksuits. None of those seem appropriate for where he's supposed to be going right now. He hears Jo's voice as she calls out to him.

“Elvis! Come on, babe, we're late!” She's taken to calling him ‘babe’ as often as possible and he really likes it. But today it just seems to add to his anxiety. He feels like he's going to let her down or embarrass her no matter what he chooses. She finally finds him in the closet near tears. “Babe, what's wrong?”

“Nothin’, honey.”

“Then why aren't you dressed yet? We gotta go.” She clicks her tongue to indicate they need to hurry. He just closes his eyes and hangs his head. “What is it? Talk to me.”

“I don't have anything to wear.”

“You literally have more clothes than anyone I've ever-”

“I don't have anything right to wear.” He slides his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose. She wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes him.

“Anything you wear will be perfect.” He looks down at her in her red dress with her makeup perfect. She looks so young and pretty, like she doesn't belong with him at all.

“Tink, I should probably just stay here.” She pulls away from him and looks up at him with a frown on her face. “Now don't go makin’ that face.”

“You told me you'd come with me.”

“Honey, I've just been thinkin’ and I don't-”

“Do you love me?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Of course I do.”

“Do you trust me?” He sighs deeply.

“Yes.” She turns to the rows of clothing and picks out a black silk shirt with puffed sleeves, a red scarf, and some black pants and hands them to him.

“There. You can pick your belt and jewelry.” It's an outfit he never would've put together himself, but once he gets a gold belt and necklace on with his favorite black and red jacket, he's satisfied. He's especially pleased when he stands next to Jo in her red minidress with black tights and boots. They look like they belong together now and he smiles. There's just one thing missing. He walks over to a drawer and pulls out a box with a red bow on it.

“I was saving this for tomorrow, but I think you need it tonight.” She takes the box and looks up at him. She's no spring chicken, so she recognizes a jewelry box when she sees it. He watches as she opens the box to reveal a gold necklace with the letters ‘TLC’ around a lightning bolt, the whole thing encrusted in diamonds. “What do ya think?”

Jo is speechless as she looks at the necklace. She's never had anyone buy her such a lavish gift. Her voice comes out as a whisper.

“It's too much.” He tips her chin with his knuckle to make her look up at him.

“Nothing is too much for you. I can never repay you for what you've given me. So please, take the necklace and anything else I give you.” She nods slowly and he takes the necklace out of the box and puts it on her. He pulls back and whistles. “It suits you.”

“It's beautiful. Thank you.” She touches it with her fingertips gently.

“It goes with mine.” He pulls the gold ‘TCB’ necklace out for her to see. She’s seen it before, but never really given it much thought. “It tells people that you go with me.”

She wraps herself around him again and pulls him into a deep kiss. He holds her close and hums as he presses his lips to hers. When they finally break the kiss, he sighs.

“Alright, let's go. Meetin’ my girlfriend’s family. I'm not nervous at all.” She looks at him funny.

“Girlfriend?”

“Well, yeah. What did you think you were?” She shakes her head and shrugs.

“I didn't want to assume.” He grabs her and tickles her sides and she giggles, trying to get away.

“You're mine, Tink. If you've forgotten, I'm happy to throw you on this bed and remind you.”

“Later. Right now I have to take my boyfriend to meet my family.” She takes off running down the stairs and he follows her as quickly as he can, all the way to her car, where he pins her against it and kisses her, his tongue slipping into her mouth as he presses his hips against hers.

“You sure you don't want me to have Jerry drive us?” He whispers in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. She whimpers, but tries to resist.

“No, babe, your cars are too obvious. People will follow us. We need to be in my clunker.” He looks at her car. It really is a sad excuse for a vehicle.

“Well, okay then.” They slide into the front seat and he ducks so that the people at the gates don't see him.

******

When they pull into the neighborhood where Jo's parents live, Elvis looks at her in shock. It's one of the fanciest neighborhoods in Memphis with big, old houses that are both historic and beautiful. His jaw drops when she pulls up in front of a massive colonial mansion and stops the car.

“This is where you grew up?!” She laughs.

“God, no! This is my stepdad’s house. His family owns a lot of real estate in Memphis and he's some bigwig at a bank. They got married when I was 17.”

“Oh…”

“No, I grew up in an apartment with my deadbeat dad and my mother working two jobs to make ends meet. She's living the American dream now.” He nods and then leans in and kisses her cheek.

“So are you.” She looks at him and giggles.

“No, babe, I'm living a goddamn fairy tale.” He chuckles. “Now, come on. We're already almost an hour late.”

At the front door, Jo's not sure who is more nervous, her or Elvis. She holds onto the bottle of wine they've brought with a vice grip. Finally, her stepdad answers the door.

“Jo! You made it. And you brought… company…”

“Hi George. This is Elvis.” To his credit, her stepdad adjusts quickly and shakes Elvis’s hand without any further ado. As they make their way through the foyer, George grabs Jo.

“Your mother is going to have heart failure.” She looks at him with her eyes wide.

“Oh God. Let's hope not.” She runs to be in front of Elvis when he walks into the dining room where everyone is seated for dinner.

“Jo’s here!” Her mother jumps up from the table and runs to her, grabbing her in a hug. “And who have you- oh my God.”

“Hello, ma'am, I'm-”

“Elvis Presley.” Jo’s mom holds her hand over her mouth as Elvis stands there awkwardly. Everyone at the table is silently staring and Jo starts to panic. Maybe this was not a good idea.

“Elvis!” Amy launches herself out of her chair and onto Elvis like she's known him her whole life. He catches her in a hug.

“Hey, kiddo.” That seems to jar Rob back to reality as well, so he stands and shakes Elvis's hand.

“Nice to see you again. This is my wife Christine.” The introductions finally begin and everyone seems to relax significantly except Jo's mother. She's still starstruck, so Jo goes over to her.

“Mother. Please calm down. He's just a person.”

“A person you've idolized for two decades! How did you… when did… he…?” She stumbles over her whispered words.

“We met at one of his shows. We've been together since then. Now, please calm down.” Jo doesn't mention that the show was less than two weeks ago. Elvis walks back over to them, hoping he can put her mom at ease. He puts his arm around Jo's waist and holds his hand out for her to shake. She looks up at him and puts her hand in his and he promptly lifts it to his lips and kisses it.

“Elvis, this is my mother, Rose.” Jo looks up at him and he smiles.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Rose. Thank you for raising such an amazing daughter.” Jo’s mother giggles.

“Oh! Aren't you sweet? Thank you. It's lovely to meet you.” Once the initial pleasantries are finished, Rose and the rest of the room settle back into dinner as Elvis and Jo take their seats. The meal passes with good food and polite conversation that gets more and more comfortable as each minute passes. By the end of it, everyone is talking and laughing with Elvis like they've known him for years. Jo is impressed with his ability to blend in, and honestly he is too. But he reminds himself that he's just a person like they are. There's no reason he should act any different. He glances over at Jo every once in a while and smiles, his body filled with a kind of golden warmth when he looks at her.

“She's really something, isn't she?” Jo’s aunt Carol asks, catching Elvis as he stares at her.

“She really is.” He looks at Carol and smiles.

“She's been through a lot. It's nice to see her happy. My sister did her best to raise her, but they didn't have it easy. She's done well for herself.” Elvis nods, not sure where this conversation is going. “I'd hate to see her go through more. She deserves something real.”

Ah, there it is.

“Ma'am, I assure you, I have no intentions of hurting her.” Elvis looks at Carol seriously.

“We never intend to hurt people, do we?” Jo had mentioned that her aunt was tough and protective of her to a fault. This must be what she meant.

“No, I suppose not. But I'll say this: I've never loved anyone the way I love her. If I ever hurt her, it'll hurt me more.” Carol gives him a small smile and pats his hand.

“Good answer.” She moves the conversation to a different topic and he catches Jo's eye. Her eyebrows raise when she sees who he is talking to, but he gives her a warm smile and she's reassured. For a couple that's only been together for a matter of days, they communicate without talking pretty well.

The evening passes fairly quickly with the children opening presents and the adults drinking hot apple cider and eggnog. At one point, Jo's sister-in-law looks around the room for someone to take her six-month-old while she deals with something else for the kids. Without hesitation, Elvis takes him and holds him in his lap, playing with him and talking to him quietly.

“He's good with kids.” Jo’s stepsister Christine comments.

“Yes, well, he's a dad.”

“Mhmm. He only has the one daughter?” Jo answers without taking her eyes off of Elvis.

“Yes, Lisa Marie.”

“Have you met her?” She turns to look at Christine.

“No. I suppose I will tomorrow, though.”

“Sounds like it's pretty serious, then.” Amy runs up to her mom and Christine wipes the chocolate off of her face before she runs away again.

“Yeah… you could say that. He asked me to move in with him.”

“Oh, my. Is that what you want? A life with a rock star?” Jo purses her lips.

“I want a life with him.”

“You don't want a family?”

“Why couldn't we have a family?” Christine shrugs.

“He already had one and it didn't work. I'd think he's done with that part of his life. And I've read that he-”

“I'm going to stop you right there. Whatever you've read is probably not true. And as far as a family goes, he and I are all the family I need.” Jo means it when she says it, but the second she does, she starts to wonder if it's really true. Christine nods.

“As long as you're happy.”

“I am.” Jo takes a big swig of cider.

“Then I'm happy for you.” Just then, Elvis makes some face at Jo as one of the little girls puts a Christmas bow on his head and she almost giggles openly. Christine catches the interaction and puts her hand on Jo's shoulder. “He seems like he really loves you.”

“He does. And I love him.”

“Then that's all you need to know.” She pats Jo's shoulder and then Amy is back and she has to go get her something in the kitchen. Jo turns back to Elvis where he bounces her nephew on his knee and talks very seriously to her other two nieces, his hair now full of bows. Would he be willing to have more children? She's always thought of herself with kids someday, but is Christine right about that part of his life being over?

******

When the evening concludes, Elvis and Jo say their goodbyes and head back to her car to drive home. He's in the driver’s seat this time and she's leaned against his shoulder happily.

“Hey, honey, can we take a quick detour?” She sits up a bit and nods.

“Sure, babe.” He turns down a road that will lead them out to the country, but not really towards Graceland. About twenty minutes later, he pulls the car off of the road and parks in a small clearing.

“You got a blanket in the trunk?” She nods, glad that she does. He hops out and fetches the blanket. “Come on, Tink.”

She grumbles and slides out of the car. He wraps the blanket around his body and pulls her to him so that the blanket covers her too.

“Now look.” She looks out where he points and gasps. They're on a bit of a hill, so she can see the whole field below them filled with fresh, virgin snow. Above that, the moon is almost full as it glitters on the blanket of white crystals. The image is breathtaking and she almost cries with how pretty it is.

“It's beautiful.”

“This is one of my favorite spots. I love how many stars there are out here. And especially when there's moonlight on the snow.” She's quiet for a bit as she takes in the scenery. Then she whispers.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” He squeezes her and presses a kiss to her temple.

“I want to share everything with you.” Jo sighs. There's been a question burning inside her since she talked to Christine at the party.

“Can I ask you something?” Her heart flutters in her chest. It's not even what she thought she wanted, but being with him is different.

“Sure, Tink.” She hesitates for a moment, scared that this might be another thing that comes between them. He has the same fear, even though he doesn't know what she's about to say. Taking a deep breath, she continues.

“Would you want to have more kids?” He leans down and turns so that he can look her in the eye. She waits anxiously as he searches her face. At first, he's reluctant to make promises, but then the image of them in front of the fireplace with their little family passes through his mind and he knows his answer.

“Yes, honey. I'd love for us to have a little Elvis Junior or baby Jo runnin’ around.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Tink. I love kids and I love bein’ a daddy and I think you'd make a great mama. If it's what you want, we'll have a dozen kids.” She giggles.

“I think one would be plenty.”

“Whatever you want, honey.” He wraps the blanket tighter around them and she lays her head back on his chest. Fat snowflakes start to drift down from the sky as they stand there together.

Jo is as happy as she's ever been living her fairy tale. But she can't help the niggling thought that this might all be over as soon as he leaves for tour or Vegas. He's saying all the right things, but does he mean them long term? She's never been one to worry about the future, but the thought of losing him makes her stomach turn over. Still, right now he has his arms around her and she's perfectly content to stay there forever, looking out over the untouched snow with the moonlight sparkling like diamonds.

******

Almost the end!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy