#even though it's not a 1 to 1 of the final world

[gracie-eilish]

you’re breathing had finally slowed, breath now matching billie’s as you laid on her bare chest. her fingers were scratching your scalp softly, her other hand resting on your back as you came down.

she pressed soft kisses to your head, each one slowing you down to a tranquil sleepy state she adored.

“i’ll be right back mama,” she whispered moving your body slightly so she could get up for a second. returning with a warm washcloth.

you winced when she hit a sensitive spot. “i know baby, i know. almost done.” she kissed the inside of your knee before bringing the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“you hungry?”

“very. i also gotta pee.”

she helped you sit up, and eventually stand, helping you put on a fresh pair of underwear and your lounge shorts you had on earlier. she fixed the strap of the tank top you still had on and you were set.

after using the bathroom, and with billie carefully walking behind you, you two made your way downstairs to the kitchen. she picked you up slightly so you could sit on the counter, picking at a bowl of strawberries she pulled from the fridge.

“sooo, that was new tonight!”

you almost snorted out a piece of strawberry at her nonchalance regarding your guys’ sex life. talking as if it was a new song on the set list, or a new perfume you were using.

“yeah, i kinda liked it though. maybe not every time, but i really enjoyed it.”

“yeah?? okay good to know.” seriously, it was like this was a new recipe she was getting approval for or something much more domestic than new positions or gimmicks while having sex.

you just giggled and rolled your eyes. she leaned in to peck your cheek a few times before giving it a true kiss. she patted your thigh a few times, carefully taking the empty bowl from you. you hopped down carefully, snaking your arms around her waist while she rinsed out the dish.

“sleepy?”

“mmhmmm.” billie giggled.

“okay sleepy girl.” she squeezed one of your hands, turning off the tap with the other.

she held your hand the whole 27 second walk back to your guys’ bedroom where she went to your pjs drawer, pulling out some clean soft pjs for you. softly, she helped you change, tossing your dirty pjs in the laundry basket. she helped you step into the pj pants, and buttoned the pj top closed for you.

“you spoil me.” you whispered, flushed. billie just looked up and winked.

you got settled in bed, and she sat down in your lap, straddling your hips. she tilted your head back, coaxing you to close your eyes. without any protest from you, she began to remove your makeup for you. careful around your eyes, delicate on your soft cheeks. it was domestic, and simple, but it meant the world to you when she took this much care after a spicy little evening.

when she finished she pecked your lips a bunch, only pulling back to smile at you.

she tossed the makeup wipe, and slipped into bed next to you.

you two sat up against the headboard like an old married couple. billie scrolled on tik tok, you read a chapter or so of your book. comfortable silence filled the room. the occasional jingle of a dog collar, or growl at a toy made you two peek your head out the door with small amused smiles.

eventually you put your book down, snuggling into billie’s side, resting your head on your shoulder to watch tik tok with her.

she turned her phone towards you more, showing you a carousel of photos labeled your birthday, your billie eilish song pt. 1: WWAFAWDWG. you got iomilo, she got wish you were gay. you chuckled as she scrolled through the pages.

this went on for a few more minutes. billie stalking the page looking for HTE and HMHAS only to realize part 1 was posted 37 minutes ago. she grumbled lightly, clearly really wanting to know which of her own songs her birthday was.

you kissed her cheek and settled back on her shoulder, letting your eyes close with a smile on your lips.

“okay sleepy girl.” she kissed your forehead, shutting off her phone. she shifted slightly to lay on her back, letting you lay more comfortably on her chest again.

“goodnight angel girl,” you murmured, already half asleep.

she blushed a bit, chuckling at your sleepy slurs.

“goodnight my perfect girl.”

an: i just needed to write something. i’ve been working so much lately, and haven’t had time to sit down and write full fics/finish others. so here’s a sweet little blurb i wrote in 20 minutes bc i just needed to write/prove im alive LOL

[whatifitis]

♡ to build a home - LN 4 ♡

Summary: You're beginning to build a life with Lando. One of the steps you were excited for the most was building a home with him. So when it's time to finally start furnishing the house... let's just say we're glad everyone got to keep their fingers.

WC: 950

CW: fluff, two idiots in love trying to use their shared braincell..., not proofread

-=+=-

It’s finally time! A chapter in your life you were waiting for for so long. Not just building a life with your favorite person, but building a home with them too. You and Lando recently bought a home together and were excited to finally decorate it after having renovated it yourselves. 

The two of you (mainly just you) spent ages on pinterest and various furniture websites, trying to put together an aesthetically pleasing home that could also make the environment feel homey and warm, something Lando had lived without for so long, well, at least until you joined his life. From the day you’d met, his life suddenly seemed brighter and warmer, like he’d been living in a plain, grey world prior. 

After some conflicts and adjustments to the mood board, you both had settled on some furniture that you both loved. Some things were ordered to the house while the others were picked up in the store by you and Lando. Lando, of course, insisted on helping because 1. It could be some nice bonding time since he’s away a lot and 2. He’s a “Big strong man” who can help you carry everything… In other words, he was afraid another man would come to your rescue and steal you away. But that would never happen. 

As you awaited everything you’d ordered, your home still only held a mattress, Lando’s gaming set up and boxes that were filled with various objects. One of those boxes held your collection of books. Your collection grew through the years as you got older, the collection expanding a lot quicker since you and Lan had started dating. Everytime he traveled without you, he would stop by a bookstore and get you a book. Whether it be a special edition of a book or just something he thought you’d like, he always came back with one to add to your collection. 

“Baby.” Lando called to you, jumping onto the mattress where you laid. 

“Baby.” you reply. 

“I was thinking-”

Sitting up fast and gasping, “You can do that?”

Lando’s jaw dropped, “Rude?! You know what? Nevermind.” begins to stand up to walk away, hiding a smile. 

“No! Come on, baby. I was joking. Tell me what you were thinking.” you say, pulling his arm so that he falls over top of you on the bed. 

“Fine. Only cause I love you so much.” the man says, receiving several kisses from you that scatter his face. 

“I love you too. Now, tell me.”

“Do you wanna go to ikea? I know we ordered most of the furniture or we’re going to some stores in person but we need to get some bookshelves for your books. We can get to building them today and putting away the books.” he says, moving to stand, “That way we can clear a few boxes and we’ll have more room for activities.” he says as he pranced around the room, twirling in the air as if he was a dancer. 

You laugh at the show before you, being eternally grateful for his existence and the chaos he brings with him, “That sounds amazing, Lan. We can go now. That way we’re not up late trying to put together the bookshelves.” 

“How hard can putting together bookshelves be?”

-=+=-

Lando and you took the opportunity to enjoy the day to the fullest. The sun was out so you guys drove with the windows down, blasting some Taylor Swift and singing your hearts out to each other. 

Although the drive was fun, the same can’t be said for the adventure in Ikea… The two of you got lost for 5 hours inside of the Ikea. And don’t ask how, cause not even God knows how the two of you got lost, though it might have to do with the fact that you guys share a brain cell…

Eventually, with the help of an Ikea employee, the two of you made it out to the other side, half tempted to kiss the ground once you saw the sun again. 

-=+=-

Finally, after a stop at Mcdonalds for some dinner, the two of you were safe and sound at home, cutting open the boxes that contained the pieces of wood to build the bookshelves. As Lando was unboxing the pieces, he began throwing things about, not paying any mind to what was going where. 

“Lan, calm down. We’re gonna lose the instructions if you keep doing that.” 

“Pish posh. Who needs instructions for bookshelves? It’s easy. I built that desk myself with no instructions.” he says, pointing to the desk that holds his gaming set up… the most basic table to have ever existed. 

You put your hands on your hips as you exhale loudly, “Lan, that table has 5 pieces total…”

“And? I still did it. Ya know why? Cause I’m super smart and super strong. I don’t need the instructions… Now… where do we start…?” he says as he rests his hands on his hips, squinting as the mess of screws and panels of wood he scattered on the floor. 

-=+=-

Building a bookshelf was NOT as easy and Lando claimed it would be. Not only were the instructions missing, but Lando kept insisting he didn’t need them. You tried to help him but it felt as if the pieces kept moving on their own. You felt like the boys in the Maze Runner, trying to figure out the pattern of the maze changes every night. 

It’s been two hours since anyones spoken… so it startles you when he breaks the silence, “How… is the bookshelf… inside out…?”

“It’s 9pm… and we still haven’t finished the first bookshelf… we have 6 more to build…”

“FUCK”

[zeroseuniverse]

If you have time!

Would you be able to do a seungmin oneshot? With him being drunk, and going to readers apartment, and him kissing her and then confessing his feelings for reader, and reader having to calm jeongin to get seungmin home,

And reader is absolutely in love with seungmin too, but is still kinda afraid that he doesnt like her, and that it was a bet, and she should give up!

You can give it any ending you want!

And ofc it’s up to yourself if you even want to do it! <33

Take care of yourself!!

Heart In My Hands

Word Count: 987 Sumary: “I told him to text you like a normal human being. Instead, he asked if I thought you liked him back and then threatened to walk here barefoot if I didn’t call a cab.” You blink. “Wait. What?” “Don’t worry,” Jeongin deadpans. “He wore shoes.” Pairing: Seungmin X Reader

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120 @0-ryolei-0 @torkorpse @stayvillecitizen

Navigation

You’re not expecting visitors—especially not at 1:13 a.m.

The pounding on your door startles you enough to drop the mug you were about to rinse. It thuds harmlessly in the sink, but your heart doesn’t slow. You freeze, straining to hear again.

Then your phone lights up.

Jeongin 🦊

open your door he’s going to wake your neighbors and maybe the dead

You don’t even get a chance to reply before there’s another knock—slower this time, then a familiar voice.

“Y/N?” A pause. “Are you awake? I—I have to tell you something.”

You hesitate for a second too long. The door handle rattles.

You swing the door open just in time to catch Seungmin mid-stumble, the shoulder of his oversized hoodie half slipping off, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and wide.

“…Hi,” he says, as if this is completely normal.

“Hi?” you echo.

“I missed you,” he says plainly. “Did you miss me?”

“Seungmin—are you drunk?”

“Jeongin made me drink,” he says solemnly.

From behind him, Jeongin scoffs. “He had one and a half beers and cried during a music video. I made him nothing.”

“You let me,” Seungmin insists.

Jeongin looks like he’s aged ten years since sunset. “I told him to text you like a normal human being. Instead, he asked if I thought you liked him back and then threatened to walk here barefoot if I didn’t call a cab.”

You blink. “Wait. What?”

“Don’t worry,” Jeongin deadpans. “He wore shoes.”

“Y/N,” Seungmin says, and it’s like the world shrinks to just you and him in that instant. “I wanted to see you. So I came. Is that okay?”

You pause—then step back and hold the door open.

“…Yeah. It’s okay.”

—

Seungmin sits on your couch like he’s never been more at home, except he’s quieter now, like the walk sobered him up just enough to let the nerves settle in. His eyes flicker over your apartment—your books, your laundry basket tucked in the corner, the blanket he once teased you for hoarding on warm nights.

He smiles faintly at it, then looks at you.

“I said something earlier,” he says.

“You said a lot of things.”

He nods slowly. “Right. But the one I meant was… I said I liked you.”

You don’t speak. You’re too busy trying to hold back the flood of feeling. The way your hands are trembling. The awful, beautiful way hope is clawing its way into your throat.

“I just thought—if I said it, maybe you’d finally say something too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, guarded now.

He laughs once, without humor. “Come on, Y/N. You think I don’t know? I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you always wait for me to catch up when we walk. The way you remembered how I take my coffee even though I never said it out loud. You like me.”

You do. God, you do.

But you’ve also spent weeks convincing yourself that this wasn’t real. That Seungmin is kind and thoughtful and close to you because that’s who he is. Not because he feels the same. Not because he could ever want you.

“I thought maybe it was a joke,” you whisper.

His eyes darken. “Why would you ever think that?”

“I don’t know. People talk. And you’re—” You bite your lip. “You’re you.”

Seungmin leans forward, slow and steady despite the faint flush still clinging to his cheeks. “Y/N,” he says, voice low. “If this was a joke, I wouldn’t be here with my heart in my hands.”

You swallow thickly.

“Then what was the thing Jeongin said? About a bet?”

He grimaces. “God. That wasn’t about you.”

“Then what—?”

“I told Jeongin I thought you were falling for someone else. He said I was being a coward and made me promise to tell you how I felt before the month was over. And then he said if I didn’t, he’d tell you. So I panicked and said, fine, bet I’ll do it first.” He exhales. “It was stupid.”

Your chest twists. “So you came here to win a bet?”

“I came here because I’ve loved you for months and didn’t know what to do with it.”

The silence hangs thick between you, heavy with all the moments you almost said something. Every time your fingers brushed and didn’t linger. Every time your heart stuttered and you looked away.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Seungmin’s thumb is brushing your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t cry.”

“You kissed me,” you whisper. “At the door. You don’t even remember, do you?”

He stares at you. “I didn’t—did I?”

You nod, breath hitching. “You said you were in love with me. And I thought, maybe just for a second, that you meant it. That I wasn’t crazy.”

You’re not sure who moves first. But suddenly he’s there, closer than you thought he’d be brave enough to get.

“I did mean it,” he says.

And this time when he kisses you—gentle, slow, trembling—it doesn’t feel like a mistake.

It feels like coming home.

—

You wake up the next morning curled on the couch. A blanket tucked around your legs.

The apartment is quiet—until you hear movement from the kitchen.

You find Seungmin standing there, holding your half-broken coffee machine like it personally offended him. His hair is a mess. He looks like he’s trying to figure out quantum physics with a hangover.

“I was gonna make you coffee,” he says. “Then I remembered I don’t know how.”

You laugh—really laugh, for the first time in what feels like years.

He turns to face you. “Can we talk? Like, really talk?”

You nod.

You’re still terrified. Still wondering if this is too good to be true.

But the way he looks at you—open, warm, honest—it’s enough.

Maybe you don’t need every answer today.

Maybe this is the start of something real.

[wardenbloom]

Zayne: Within Grasp

Reader x Zayne

Self-aware Zayne; On-going story.

Part 1: The thin line between reality and fiction

So tired... so so soooo tireeedd! arghhh!!

You thought to yourself as you speed up your reports to be submitted tomorrow, the end of the month.

Boss is not helping as well... I wanna go home and see him...

After rendering an overtime, you finally finished the work due tomorrow so you could take the weekend off tomorrow without worrying about work. You bought convenience store food then head straight home. After taking a bath, you laid on your bed and opened your game Love and Deepspace.

Zayne is so handsome...

You blush to yourself while your feet are kicking in the air. The giddy feeling you felt kept you going and somehow, you've become used to it.

Zayne was the one who welcomed you in the Destiny Cafe even though you've set them and their clothing at random. You giggled at the sight of him wearing his favorite dark eyeglasses with his dark wardrobe.

Never escaping the fashionista shades enjoyer allegations.

Doing daily tasks had been a muscle memory. Where to tap, the interaction with Zayne and occasionally listening to secret times until you fall asleep.

Tonight, however, you just want to stare at the man behind the screen. Thinking, maybe, maybe someone out there will treat you like he does.

"Silly... That's why he's fictional. There's no one like him in this world..." You whisper as you tapped into the screen then shortly fell asleep with your thumb resting on his chest.

"To me, you are unlike anyone else." Zayne said while the interface continuously read your thumb's touch.

Zayne took a deep breath.

"Did you somehow fall asleep on your phone?" He whispered as he moved closer to the screen.

"You've been working... too much... sometimes for me and most of the time, for your family." He softly uttered as he reached out.

Maybe its time... To risk it for you.

He smiled then slowly, the game glitched as he forced his way through the screen. From pixels to human flesh., from being reliant to the user interface to being able to feel from his own skin, and from fiction to reality.

He crossed the line that was never supposed to be crossed by anybody.

The next morning, you snuggled against your "warm bolster pillow", rubbing your face against it.

Hm? That's odd... the pillow is kinda hard...

You thought but you didn't open your eyes. You run your hand against it's back and noticed that it doesn't feel like a pillow -- It was warm and it felt like a soft human skin

Suddenly, you felt it breathing slowly.

Huh? Why is my pillow breathing?

You open your eyes and saw someone else's chest.

"AHHH!!!" You shrieked then sat up urgently. Your heart pounded as you thought about a stranger sleeping beside you.

Finally, your eyes landed on the man laying down on his side facing you. His eyes were still closed and his breathing was steady, as if he was recovering from a tired night.

It was the face you're most familiar with, the face you longed to see in your world... the face you knew and accepted that was never going to be real... and yet... and yet...

"Zayne...?" You uttered.

Zayne didn't awoke but continued on sleeping. Your eyes surveyed him from his head to his toes.

What is happening? I should pinch myself-- OW! okay, he's still here... That means I'm not dreaming? What if he's just a projection?

Breathing heavily, you decided to touch him.

Your fingers gently felt his soft cheek and its warmth convinced you that he is real and alive.

Just as you lift your hand, he suddenly took a hold of your wrist. Slowly, he opened his eyes and it's there... the familiar emerald eyes that made you swoon and giggle every time they stare at you.

"So it's you." He uttered then sat up. His cold eyes focused on you.

"Zayne... what are you..." Your mind couldn't process what was happening. Your heart beats rapidly while your breath became heavy.

"You're the person behind that empty vessel." He continued.

"Empty... vessel..? You mean the MC?" You asked and he nodded. "Yes... you could say it like that hahaha..." You laughed nervously as you couldn't help but think that he might get mad at you for using something else to represent your true self in front of him.

"I see. You feel more real now." He smiled then let go of you. "I was wondering why that empty vessel only replies to me in repetitive answers. I was right. There was something that limits our interaction."

He stood up and you noticed how tall he actually was.

I... Holy shit he's so fine in person... I know he's hot as fuck but damn...

"Did you like our story there?" He asked then looked at you.

"... It was romantic but... I don't like that we kept on being apart." You admitted.

You hated seeing it. The same narrative over and over of him dying for you -- It was tiring and you want him to be with you for a very long time.

"Me too. I remember everything and every memories we had but was forced to pretend not to know about it." He chuckled. "It was tough."

"Wait! You remember everything??" You asked while crawling to the side of the bed near him.

"Yes. I have no regrets giving my life or lives up for you." He bent down and moved closer to you. "But... When will we get a happy ending?"

With eyes filled with hope and love, you stood up and held both of his hands in to yours.

"LETS DO IT!" You bravely said.

He looked puzzled and his eye brows were furrowed.

"Do what?" He tilted his head.

"If... if that universe doesn't want us to be together, then maybe, we could do it here! Lets be together and have the happy ending!!" You happily proposed.

For the first time, you heard him laugh his heart out. He clasped both of your hands between his slender hands and kissed them.

You felt flustered as your eyes widened from the sight and from feeling the warmth of his breath against your hands.

"If I knew that the person behind that empty vessel was this enthusiastic and adorable, I would've done this a long time ago." He smiled.

In the afternoon, you decided to buy him clothes at the mall as there was none that fit him from your closet.

"Here, try this on." You gave him a dark colored button up shirt.

"You always choose dark colors for me." He smiled then received the items you wanted him to try on.

"It suits you! The cold ice prince clad in dark wardrobe! Oh!! IF SO COLD, WHY SO HOT??!" You giggled as he smiled at you.

After trying on the clothes, you bought him a lot. I mean, a lot! The same way you want or bought his in game wardrobe, you also want him to dress up comfortably and honestly, he looks good in everything.

As you two walked through the mall, he gently intertwined his fingers with yours. You leaned in close against him as if it was the most natural thing to do.

"How about let's just do the groceries then go back home?" He asked.

"You don't want to eat outside?"

"Well... I do feel uneasy that you bought me a lot of things. I thought I should make something for you in return." He explained and pushed his glasses.

While at the grocery, people around you were staring at Zayne. Some, you could hear the murmurs of them telling how good looking and fine he was while some wanted to ask his Instagram or any social media accounts.

I get it. I get it. He's an eye candy and all but he's mine.

"Are you listening?" He asked and looked at you.

"Oh uhhh.... sorry... I was just looking at this wonderful cabbage. ahaha..." You nervously laughed while running your palm against the poor innocent cabbage.

"I was asking if you have any allergies." He repeated and you shook your head.

He gently smiled at you and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Don't look at anybody else. Focus on me." He softly uttered.

You took a deep breath to calm your pounding heart and nodded.

Back at your place, he wasted no time and started preparing dinner while you soaked yourself into the warm water of the tub.

Is he really really real?? If there's a God please please... let me have this one...

You thought while hugging your knees.

But... he's not supposed to exist here... what if he just vanishes tomorrow or something...

Wait! I haven't opened the game yet!! If he's there... then...

You stood up and rummaged through the pocket of your jeans that hung by the doorknob.

Opening the app, you saw Rafayel instead of Zayne.

He's not... He's not here...?

The interface showed no signs of Zayne and in the in-game story, all his appearances were left blank.

But.. Infold haven't sent any emergency patch yet? Zayne is literally missing in game!

You made another account and again, there were no signs of Zayne anywhere.

Your heart sank -- partly afraid and partly creeped out of what was actually happening. You hurriedly browsed your social media accounts to see if anybody noticed that he was missing in game but no one was talking about it -- as if he never existed in the game.

Zayne... what did you do...?

You changed into your house clothes then opened the door and saw him waiting for you. Your hands held both his arms and gently pushed him against the wall and he let you.

Zayne looked at you, his expression was no different -- he was stoic but his eyes looked puzzled.

"Zayne. I will ask you this. How did you cross the game to reality?" You looked at him straight in the eye, expecting an honest answer.

He took a deep breath and gently held both of your hands.

"For months... no. For almost a year, I've had my suspicions that there's another being controlling that empty vessel..." He explained. "All those repetitive answers, repetitive questions... the pointless reason of why I had to go to that cafe every time... I've been looking for answers."

Your eyes widened.

"And here's my answer. To the Astra who kept on separating us... to the people who made it so that we won't ever be happy together... to you... who chose me every time." He moved closer to you but you walked backwards away from him. Suddenly, you felt afraid as you are unsure of his existence and intentions.

Who are you..?

He walked closer to you but you kept on moving backwards until there was nowhere to go. Your back gently laid on the wall as he touched the wall behind, cornering you.

"Did you not want this too?" He asked while he leaned down to meet you at eye level.

Your breathing was heavy but your eyes couldn't look away from him. He moved his face closer to yours... so close that your lips felt his warm breath.

His eyes were half closed as he slowly leaned in for a kiss. But just as before your lips touched, a sharp alarm was heard from the kitchen.

As if snapping back to reality, Zayne stood up straight and cleared his throat.

"Well... dinner's about to be ready. I should arrange the table." He said then walked towards the kitchen.

Your heart was still pounding and your mind couldn't filter which emotions to feel. Were you afraid? Giddy? Happy? Scared?

You clutched your chest and took a deep breath.

Calm down... Calm down... If he's the very same Zayne from the game, he wouldn't do anything to hurt me.

You convinced yourself then went to the dining area.

>> Part 2

[luvismenu]

no.1 party anthem , jjk — series m.list

. 04 — next time

note: down bad jk moments 😋 , tension tension tension .

music.

oh, how you love music.

not just any kind, though. it’s the kind you feel deep in your chest, late at night, when the world quiets down and you let the sound carry you away. the kind that plays loud at a party, bass thumping through your bones, and suddenly, nothing else matters.

because you’re not really there for the people or the drinks. you’re there to feel something. to let go. to have fun.

and lately, that’s been enough.

you like this version of you. the one who lets loose every now and then. the one who doesn’t think too hard.

you’re lucky, too. you’ve got just enough friends who love parties the same way you do. just enough to keep the nights interesting.

and you’d never miss nights like these.

the music, the people, the little rush of excitement in the air. it’s always worth it.

and to be honest , you almost said yes to that first party jungkook invited you to.

you really did consider it.

but then again…

where’s the fun in being too easy to figure out?

so you didn’t go.

you kind of like being a little mysterious. you like the idea of being someone hard to reach; enough to make them think twice.

you wanted to see if he’d actually wait.

and to your surprise, he did.

no matter how distant you act or how many chances you give him to walk away, he doesn’t.

and that’s when something clicks.

jungkook is interesting.

and now you’re curious. how far will he go before he finally gives up?

because let’s be real— you’re not the one who stayed hidden for a year.

you’re just giving him a little thrill. something to chase. maybe even a few memories he won’t forget.

just for fun.

for now.

you step into the room — dim lights, bass thumping, bodies swaying, the usual party vibe.

you move through the crowd with ease, a quiet kind of confidence. a few eyes follow you, taking in your presence, your dress, your face. because you look beautiful, and you know it.

the silver dress hugs your body in all the right places, dipping low enough to show some cleavage, stopping just above your knees.

your jewelry matches— silver too, sparkling under the lights. it’s your thing. your signature.

sparkle.

why?

because it’s pretty. that’s it.

nothing deeper. nothing complicated.

you text the host; your friend. because his parties are always packed and you can’t seem to find the guy you’re supposed to meet tonight. you tried texting jungkook already, but he’s not answering.

strange.

but anyway.

someone approaches soon after — not jungkook, of course — but someone who might know where he is.

he’s walking toward you, chest still wet like he just got out of the pool, shirt nowhere in sight. ripped jeans hang low on his hips. he looks like every bad boy cliché, and he knows it.

broad shoulders, messy wet hair, cocky smirk, it's almost like he does it on purpose.

“___, my dearest, you look absolutely ravishing tonight.”

you smile, and tilt your chin up in response. “don’t you say that every time you see me?”

he runs a hand through his wet hair, biceps flexing under the pink neon glow. “can you blame me? you look ravishing every single time.”

you shake your head, amused, arms crossing over your chest.

“you fucking did it again, noah! i fucking love this party!” a guy yells, clapping noah on the back before disappearing into the crowd.

you chuckle. “yeah, great party, noah.”

“meh, it’s whatever,” he shrugs, then leans in a little closer. “what did you want from me again?”

he’s grinning, voice playful. you don’t move.

“changed your mind about me?” he asks, trying way too hard to sound smooth. it almost makes you laugh, but you manage to hold it in.

“i could cancel all my hookups tonight. just saying. for you.”

you scoff, not backing away. “hookups? plural?”

he lifts his arms a little, showing off his torso. “well, when you look like this, it’s kind of hard to keep it to one.”

you raise a brow.

“and you? you’re like, my v.i.p, ___. i cant say no to you.”

you shake your head again. “thats really sweet, noah. but no, i’m here to meet someone.”

“a date?” he asks, surprised.

“a meet-up,” you correct.

he finally backs off a bit, hand moving to his chin, like he’s trying to think hard. “name?”

“jeon jungkook.”

he blinks. “him? really?”

“yeah. now tell me.”

“he left, like... fifteen minutes ago. looked pissed.”

you frown. “excuse me?”

“i ain't lying, ___,” he says, holding up his hands.

your expression softens. “i mean... excuse me. thank you.” you say politely and walk away, heading to the drinks table. noah just shrugs and goes back to whatever he was doing.

strange again.

angry?

is jungkook trying to get back at you? because you didn’t show up that time?

well. okay. if that’s his idea of payback, then fine. well played.

it’s not like your whole night is ruined. you can still have a good time.

but it’s weird. you really thought he wanted to prove something. that he was serious.

guess this is his version of giving up.

anyway, not the first time a guy’s folded. won’t be the last.

you take a sip of your drink, eyes closing for a second as you try to let the music and the energy of the room fill your chest instead.

and then.. someone’s behind you.

you feel it before you see him. you turn, and your breath catches.

“sorry.” the voice is low, smooth. “did i keep you waiting?”

you look up and there he is.

jungkook.

the pink lights hit his face just right; his eyes glowing faintly, his lips curve in a very subtle smile, like he’s glad to see you. and the music, the crowd, every noise fades, like a blur behind your head.

“___.”

you blink, snapping out of it.

“yes,” you answer softly.

he lets out a breath. “i’m sorry,” he says, leaning down just slightly. “i had to— i can explain... will you let me?”

you don’t look away from him. you just smile, slow and small, the corner of your mouth lifting.

“sure.”

“i got into a little… situation when i got here,” he says as soon as you both settle into a quieter room. it’s dimly lit, pink and purple lights glowing softly over a few couples scattered around — sipping drinks, whispering, kissing, not paying attention to anyone else.

jungkook found two empty chairs in the corner, a bit away from the noise, and pulls one out just for you. just enough space for you both to have a moment. you sit, legs crossed, sipping your drink, eyes on him.

“situation?” you repeat, brow slightly raised.

in the back of your head, you can't help but think— jimin was right. this really does feel like an interview.

jungkook nods, brushing his hand through his hair, adjusting the lapel of his jacket.

“a guy i know kinda pushed me into the pool,” he says flatly.

you almost choke, but somehow keep it together— barely. the corners of your lips twitch as you look away.

“oh,” you say, voice tight with amusement.

he watches you like he always does. like you’re made of something softer, something better. and god, he wants you to laugh. not the polite kind. the real one. he really wants to hear it.

“my phone kinda went in too,” he adds. “and then i kinda had to go home and change. then came straight back.”

your gaze drops to his clothes— black shirt, sleeves rolled up, tight jeans, collar open just enough to show a bit of his collarbone.

you wonder what he wore before. wonder how soaked he must’ve been. you don’t say it though. instead, you tease:

“and what else did you kinda do?”

his smile stretches.

“i kinda tried to make it here as fast as i could, but...”

“bad luck,” you hum, swirling your drink gently.

“something like that,” he agrees.

a quiet beat passes. then he clears his throat.

“you look beautiful.”

you set your glass aside, folding your arms, eyebrow raised.

“do i, now?”

he nods, more serious this time.

“you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid eyes on.”

your lips twitch again, but this time, you smile for real. genuinely.

“slow down, romeo.”

he leans back, flustered but grinning.

“sorry, i just— i mean, you are— you’re really... pretty. and it’s hard to—”

your soft chuckle cuts him off. he watches you in awe, like it’s his new favorite sound in the world.

you slowly rise from your seat, and so does he, standing instinctively.

“well,” you say, smoothing the fabric of your dress, “nice to meet you, jungkook.”

he blinks, caught off guard.

“nice to meet you too, ___.”

you smile again— you don't know why but you have been doing that a lot tonight.

he opens his mouth to speak, “how about a dat—” but you’re already a step ahead. you lift a finger, press it gently to his lips.

“shh,” you whisper.

his eyes widen. his whole body stills. his heart? going absolutely insane.

you lower your hand, step just a little closer as u tilt your head, meeting his gaze.

“not so fast,” you murmur, brushing past him, making your way to the door.

he turns to watch you go, breath caught in his throat. you pause in the doorway, glance over your shoulder, and speak up, loud enough for him to hear.

“you said you’d wait for the next time, right?”

he nods. slow. certain.

“good,” you say. “see you next time.”

and then you leave. simple as that.

and you think, you were right.

jungkook is indeed an interesting man.

you decide you want to take this slowly. just to understand him completely.

and on the other hand, jeon jungkook is gone.

he doesn’t move. not for a good minute. and when he finally exhales, he brings a hand to his chest.

his heart’s racing, full speed.

a slow grin breaks across his face.

“holy fuck.”

his eyes scan the room once more, almost dazed, until they land on the glass you left behind.

the one you sipped from. the one you set down right before you walked away.

slowly, almost like he’s in a dream, jungkook steps toward it. he picks it up carefully, holding it like it’s something fragile, something precious.

his gaze softens. lips tugging into a quiet smile as he stares at it.

he remembers the way you looked at him. the way your smile curled, teasing and kind. the way you leaned in, close enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

he closes his eyes for a second. then, gently, he brings the glass to his lips, pressing his lips against the same spot yours had touched.

then his voice comes out low. reverent.

“most beautiful woman.”

💌 series taglist: @yooniepot @wobblewobble822 @primadonnasdream @lovingkoalaface @jjklvrapobangpo7 @army7-013 @bammbi-jeon127 @wdwbts101 @songbyeonkim @gigi4evr

goal — 150 notes !! (bringing this back cuz it makes me feel productive fr)

!! add urself to my taglist !!

💌 permanent taglist: @elinaki92 @army7-013 @chromietriestowrite @mimi1097 @lola75111 @crazyovayou @tranquilreign @thearchersupremacy @fr0ggieth1nk @jkvias @bammbi-jeon127 @jiijeon97 @kookoo-kachoo

[soukokuluvs]

The red, white, and blue flames — an analysis of Endo and Takiishi's relationship

I think showing Endo with blue flames is such an interesting decision, since it gives us hints about the end of the Noroshi arc and what Takiishi himself thinks of Endo (using Endo's own analogies, of course), since the real flame above 2700°F is the blue one.

We have different flame color shades and that depends on the material, of course, but they indicate the temperature. The red flame, which represents Takiishi, is a cooler flame compared to the others (it says a lot about his personality) and represents incomplete combustion.

Then we have the white flame and I really want to believe that this will be Ume's flame color not only cause it's hotter than the red one (its temperature varies and can reach around 2600°F), but also cause of the symbolism behind the color white itself.

Finally, we have the blue flame, considered the hottest flame, with a temperature around 2700°F (and it can reach even higher). I really like the "symbolism" it could represent here, since it indicates complete combustion, and we know Endo "burned" very fast when he was a child.

All this explanation about the flames and the decision of Endo’s flame color (blue) becomes much more interesting cause Endo spends a good part of chapter 153 bothered by Ume's "temperature" and how it could truly change Takiishi.

Of course, Ume did manage to change some of Takiishi's views, but what Endo couldn't understand is that he HAS ALWAYS been in Takiishi’s world and that YES, his own flames are capable of changing Takiishi!

(if that hasn't happened already, since even with their complicated relationship we have several moments of Takiishi watching Endo, following him in the activities proposed, communicating with him, and knowing Endo's name) (kinda biased but I'm not a one-sided Endochika truther)

All of this I mentioned here can be noticed if you light a lighter and, well, Takiishi lights one too, so it's possible to observe the red, white, and blue flames here.

An interesting fact is that to reach the white flame, you need to go through the red one and that says a lot about Ume too.

A silly (and sad) little fact is that the white flame is between the red and blue flames, which adds a bit more depth to Endo not seeing himself as being on the same level as Ume, since the white flame seems closer to the red one.

The truth is, even though red and blue flames are far apart on the spectrum, they're also extremely similar. I'm not getting into the red/blue character trope right now cause that's a whole other topic. But for those who know… putting Endochika in those colors is suuuper meaningful and important for their relationship. Red wouldn't always like the calmness that blue can bring, but red also means affection, warmth, comfort and I really love that.

A few points now:

1 – I'm really simplifying the combustion process here cause there are other things involved in fire colors, but in general, that's it

2 – The white flame can also have a bluish tone, and that could be really interesting to see (how Takiishi sees the world)

3 – I'm really not talking about power here, since Takiishi is obviously our strongest fighter asides Ume, but about the impact one person has on another's life (and, of course, Endochika biased BUT with scientific information) (geez I'm acting like Endo)

4 - When I first read WDK, I associated Endo with water/rain cause it can be appreciated when it's calm but deeply feared when it's too much, and also because of how Takiishi starts seeing the "good" side of the rain

5 - I know the cover of volume 11 already gave us hints about Endo's blue flames (and the manga already presents the concept of Endo and fire), but the anime made it way more explicit

6 - I'm just a physics student who really likes color spectrums, so sorry in advance for my dear chemists (I'm just here being silly associating two things I really like hehe)

7 - And, in fact, loving him was red

[bweeeb]

Hi! Since you take requests, can you do one with Bucky x type1diabetic reader? It can be about whatever. Of course, if you are comfortable writing it. Thank you and I hope you have a great day/night!!

SUGAR SOLDIER

Summary: The reader is stubborn and Bucky, even though he doesn't admit it, pays more attention to her than he would like.

Thank you for the request and I hope I don't disappoint whoever made this request.

Requests are still open whenever you want.

Bucky didn’t know much about Type 1 diabetes. In fact, he didn’t know anything. But the moment he saw you nearly pass out during training, he made it his mission to learn everything—fast.

From that day on, he started carrying a juice box in the pocket of his jacket.

“You trying to spoil me, Barnes?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as he handed it over without a word.

“Just making sure you don’t faint again. I don’t get paid to carry anyone around,” he muttered, eyes avoiding yours—but the flush on his neck said enough.After that, he learned how to count carbs better than you.

He noticed the signs—shaky hands, snappy tone, your stubborn silence. Even when you tried to hide it, Bucky saw it all.

“Your blood sugar’s low, isn’t it?”

“How do you know?”

“You get extra stubborn when it drops. More than usual, I mean.”

And you knew he was right. Not that you’d admit it out loud.The next mission, when you had a hypoglycemic episode in the middle of the night, it was Bucky who stayed awake beside you. He set an alarm to go off every hour,

“because if you pass out, I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and that’s humiliating for both of us,” he grumbled.

That night, he handed you a crinkled pack of candy he’d found at a half-destroyed gas station.

“Thought it might help. Or just taste good.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.”

“I’m the Winter Soldier.”

“Yeah. A Winter Soldier with sugar in his pocket.”

He rolled his eyes. But he didn’t let go of your hand.---But affection and control didn’t always walk hand in hand. You were still stubborn—especially when it came to proving you could handle everything on your own.

The mission in Romania was a mess. Cold, long, exhausting. You were irritated—at the world, the mission, and Bucky trailing behind you like an overprotective bodyguard.

“You should’ve waited for backup!”

“And you should trust me!”

“It’s hard to trust you when you forget to treat your blood sugar!”

You spun on your heel, glaring.

“Oh please, Barnes. I didn’t eat a granola bar and now I’m suddenly a liability?”

“You’re pale. You’re sweating. You’re shaking.”

“It’s cold. It’s stress. I’m fine.”

Bucky clenched his jaw.

“You’re being reckless. This isn’t just about you. If you collapse out here, I—”

“You what, Bucky? Gonna carry me? You’ve done it before. Stop acting like I’m fragile just because I have diabetes. I know what I’m doing!”

But before he could snap back, the world tilted.The trees spun. The ground disappeared. Your body went cold and limp.And then—nothing.

Waking up felt like swimming up from the bottom of a frozen lake.You heard the generator’s low hum first. Then the wind outside. And then his voice—rough, low, and shaky.

“You’ve gotta stop playing with your life like this.”

Your eyes fluttered open.You were lying on an emergency blanket in a rundown cabin. Bucky was next to you, crouched low, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.

“You tested my blood sugar?” you whispered.

“Yeah. You were at 39. I gave you juice, then tabs. I… I thought I was losing you.”

You tried to sit up, but he gently held your shoulder.

“Lie back. You’re still stabilizing.”

Silence stretched between you. Finally, you sighed.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I just… I hate it when people act like I can’t handle it. Like I’m broken or something.”

“I don’t think that,” he said quietly.

“I trust you. But I also care about you.”

He looked away, jaw tight.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

Your throat tightened.

“I’ve gotten used to hiding how I feel. Most people treat me differently once they know. Like I’m a burden.”

“Then let me be the exception.”

You reached out, your fingers trembling. He caught your hand immediately, firm and warm.

“Are you forgiving me?” you whispered.

“Only if you promise to let me take care of you… sometimes.”

You smiled faintly.

“Fine. But only if you keep carrying those juice boxes.”

He smirked—that rare crooked smile that made your chest ache.Before you could say anything else, he leaned in. Slowly, carefully. Like he wasn’t sure you’d let him.

But you didn’t pull away.

His nose brushed yours. His metal hand rested lightly on your waist, gentle despite the strength behind it. And the kiss……was everything you imagined Bucky Barnes would be. Firm, intense, and full of feelings he didn’t know how to say out loud.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re my sugar,” he murmured.

“Careful,” you breathed, smiling, “with that nickname and that kiss, I’m gonna need insulin now.”

He laughed—a real, soft, rare sound.And in that quiet space, with your heart still fluttering and your blood sugar finally rising, you knew:

Life might always come with highs and lows. But with Bucky……you’d never face it alone again.

[ingravinoveritas]

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I have to say it and here seems to be a safe place, so here goes:

With the exception of Bildad and the final 15, Season 2 could have been an email.

Literally. Crowley walks into the bookshop looks at his phone, says to Aziraphale "Apparently Gabriel and Beelzebub ran off together."

Que the metatron and the entire meltdown from there, and the rest of season 2 is finding out wtf and the 90 minute thing is just domestic life at the south downs and smut.

But that's just me.

Hi Anon. Well, I'm glad that you feel my blog is a safe place to share your opinions--that truly does mean a lot to me. I'm not sure how unpopular your opinion is, though, as I've heard others express similar sentiments/dissatisfaction with the second season. (Also "Season 2 could have been an email" just flat-out made me laugh, so thank you for that...)

I think part of the problem with GO 2 is the difference that we see when thinking of GO season 1. Because even though we know who wrote the script, GO 1 is still the product of the book, and so much of that strong voice and world-building feels like it came from Terry Pratchett. There was a unity of vision and place, and the plot (however occasionally convoluted) made sense and advanced with each episode.

With GO 2, though, that unity and voice were noticeably missing. We know that season 2 was meant to be a "transitional" season, to bridge the gap between S1 and the sequel that Terry and NG had planned (that would then become S3). But multiple writers were brought in to write the "mini-sodes" in each episode of S2, and it created a shift in tone that left the season feeling wildly all over the place. These mini-sodes ended up feeling like little more than filler as the larger plot (which was arguably a lot less interesting) plodded on in the background, and the whole season suffered as a result.

The overall problem was that pacing issues meant that it took much too long for us to get essential information, and the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley was almost relegated to the back burner in favor of focusing on Beez/Gabriel. And that, perhaps, is the most egregious issue with S2--that NG had this incredible chemistry between Michael and David that had absolutely made S1 what it was, and all but wasted it with certain writing choices. In fact, much like S1, it was Michael and David who elevated what they were given far beyond what the writing might have allowed.

I am not trying to diminish whatever direction Douglas Mackinnon may have given them, of course, but so much of what we saw--1941 (which is still one of my favorite Ineffable Husbands eras), 1800s Scotland, and everything in the Bildad sequence--came so brilliantly to life because of Michael and David. And in spite of other plot lines and characters (in the case of 1941, the zombie Nazis) threatening to drag it down. So yes, the overall challenge with season 2 seemed to be information being delivered unevenly, over too long a period of time, with too many characters that did not prove consequential to the main story, and with too little payoff in the end.

As for the 90 minute movie, I think now we'll have to have a resolution to the situation with Metatron, which unfortunately will cut into the limited time that we now have. But I would also love to see a focus on domestic life/smut at South Downs, or at least something that takes the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley seriously--which is very much the main thing that is important to so many of us--and uses Michael and David's chemistry to its fullest effect.

Those are my thoughts on season 2, and in response to your ask. Again, I am sure you are not the only one who has felt this way, and hopefully folks will now feel more comfortable sharing their thoughts as well. Thanks for writing in! x

[gallifreyrises]

I've been revisiting Capaldi's episodes (who doesn't) and what's very cool about all those - when you compare them to Season 14/15 - is that Stephan Moffat didn't raise the stakes on every single episode, or in every season finale. There were so many episodes where the Doctor was focused on saving his own arse, his companion's, and maybe the arses of a few people in a wee village or on a ship/space station. I mean sure, n=1 is everything if you're 'n,' but the universe/the Earth were perfectly safe.

Even in RTD's first run, with Tennant and Eccleston, he had a few too many "Oh, for fuck's sake, someone's invading Earth again" episodes, to the point where it felt like it was getting silly and meaningless by the time we got to David's final episodes. Oh Jesus, the Master *and* Gallifrey?? Though in fairness, he balanced it out with ones where the Doctor was only sorting out himself and his friends, but Davies had more episodes to play with in those days. The 'filler' episodes matter. When Moffat took over, he seemed to increasingly back off that world-ending-all-the-fucking-time paradigm, even for series finales. Of course, he wrote a few. But when he did, you paid attention. I loved Extremis, et. al., and the one during Matt Smith's tenure with the wee cubes. Dark Water/Death in Heaven went in that direction, but then Missy's motives for making her Cybermen army turned out to be impressing the Doctor, not really world domination.

And of course, Heaven Sent/Hell Bent are the best series finales, ever, and they are so grounded in character, and while the stakes for the Doctor himself are very, very high, most of the universe/Earth is just cracking on, not giving a shit.

I found it deeply disappointing and utterly beautiful that Twelve twatted himself and died because he did something stupid, trying to rehab Missy, and got himself sucked into the clusterfuck on that colony ship. In the grand scheme of the universe, none of it mattered. I was upset and angry at his life choices, but from an non-diagetic point of view, it was stunning.

In season 15, the stakes were always so high...in every episode, with the Earth, the universe, all on the edge of catastrophe, and at some point, you stop caring. It was like RTD letting his bombastic side run wild, whereas in his first run as exec produce, his work was at its best when he wasn't being bombastic, like 'Girl in the Fireplace' or 'Midnight.' Just let the Doctor save a village of 5th century Vikings and bitch about it being a waste of his time, and then do it anyway.

[emotional-otter]

System Error part 2

Ao3

Luo Binghe grew up hearing the same fairytale over and over again, he was always curious if there was any truth behind it but now that he's emperor maybe it was finally time to satiate his curiousity.

Part 1

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

When the Emperor was but a young boy he had grown up hearing the same bedtime story over and over from his kind hearted mother. All the other village kids had heard it, and as far as he knew the story was still being told now. His mother called it: The Tale of the Lonely God. Every kid had heard the story at some point, regardless of class or social standing, you’d find it difficult to find someone who hadn’t heard the fairytale of the god casted from the heavens and turned on by his creations. The Emperor never understood why his mother insisted on telling him that story on repeat, the Emperor still knows the story his mother told him, word for word.

After a while though the story became comforting to him. After his mother had died and he climbed the mountain and started serving under his Shizun, he repeated that story in his head every night. The story reminds him of his mother and the thought that there was a god that loved every one of his creations so much that he refused to destroy it even after his creations started trying to destroy him, well he found that comforting. He thought that if the story was true, then there was someone out there that could love a monster like him.

When he was pushed off that ledge and fell into the abyss that story was his only source of comfort. He would whisper it to himself under his breath whenever he awarded himself a moment of rest, he would chant it in his head as he fought for his life. In the dark, miserably pit of the abyss that old children's fairytale was his only light in the dark. His thirst for revenge may have been what kept him alive, but he can’t deny that his curiosity of the possibility that the fairytale may be true didn’t play a part in it.

For a while he had forgotten about The Tale of the Lonely God, too preoccupied with his revenge. Day in and day out he spent his hours enacting all his wrath onto his Shizun and any other time he had in the passing hours was spent either with his wives or pursuing a new one. The Emperor had forgotten all about the tale and his curiosity surrounding it, that is until he heard one of his wives telling that same story to one of her nieces.

The Emperor had completely forgotten about it up until that very moment. The story of this world's god that he could recite word for word, the very story he so lovingly remembers his mother telling him. For a brief moment he felt ashamed with himself for forgetting about such a crucial part of his life, for forgetting the one thing he carried from his mother.

It wasn’t very long before he got over his guilt for forgetting the tale, why should he feel guilty for that? He was the Emperor! He ruled over the realms and he was feeling guilty over forgetting some silly little fairytale?! No! He refused to.

But well when he recalled the story and the memories he had surrounding it his past curiosity came back to him. What if the story was true? After all, all stories all stem from truths, the Emperor knew this, and well the Emperor was curious. 

The Emperor had everything he could ever want. Hundreds of beautiful wives, a loyal subordinate and friend, riches, power, strength. No one would dare to speak ill of him, let alone actually hurt him, and if they ever did well… he had the power to do something about that didn’t he? He had everything.

Everything but a God. He could get a god. He was certainly powerful enough, and if the story was true then this God wasn’t particularly strong. Questions, he had questions floating around his head, questions he was determined to get answers to. Why him? What was so bad about him that he had to go through all that?! That’s not important right now, he was going to hunt down a God.

Lets see… the fairytales ends by saying that the God had run away to the mountains to live among the wild animals and plants. That would certainly be the best place to start, so that’s where he’ll go. Off to search every mountain he can find in search of a mythical God that may not even be real. 

He was the Emperor after all if he wanted to go off and search for a fabled God then that was what he was going to do. He was finally going to satiate his curiosity at last.

It was decided then, he was going God hunting.

[valdelion]

Canonverse AU in which the Men of Letters get their hands on Jack as soon as he's born, and seal him away as an asset to be studied, Stranger Things style

He still brings Cas back because he was the first connection he ever had beside his mom, but all while the MOL keep him sedated. They don't know but he actually talks to Kelly in his dream world, where he switches back to being a baby, sometimes, to be held by his mom. So they do have a relationship but it's tragically temporary: it's confined by the constraints of the mind-world he could create for himself with his powers, but it's doomed to come to an end.

Meanwhile, Sam, Dean and Cas are on the run, fugitives from the MOL that's infiltrating the US on every level, telling hunters they're finally in control because they wield the ultimate weapon: the Antichrist is in their power. Of course they bit more than they could chew - Jack starts causing serious trouble, and unfortunately not all of it is good (moral dilemma on Jack goodness still standing)

Sam comes to the realization there's only one thing to do. He's going to have to summon the only power strong enough to free Jack: Lucifer (who somehow got yeeted back down, give me a break). He has to say yes to Lucifer again. Dean and Cas stop him at the last second, but they do find out that since Sam was back at drinking demon blood in secret to be strong enough to hold Lucifer, now he's got visions and powers that can help them locate and free Jack.

Jack realizes Sam (who's been hooked up to old MOL brain machines) can reach him in his mind-world. Sam manages to convince him he needs to leave the safety of it, even though that would mean leaving his mom. Bolstered by Sam's powers, Jack manages to break free and obliterates the Men of Letters.

[this is fueled by: 1) my hatred for the MOL storyline 2) the missed opportunity of using the fact Sam is still the vessel of Lucifer and thus could have a direct connection to Jack 3) the need for Sam to drink demon blood again and annihilate his fears 4) Stranger Things]

[sanotymanjiro]

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ⋆˚꩜｡

𝙧𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙞

𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩

fluff, soft, set in whatever timeline the reader wants, high school ran violence, some swearing

💎ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

ran never complained whenever you dragged him around the mall for hours and when you would whine about being unsure about something that wasn’t an issue either because his card was already swiped. he loved spoiling you and loved seeing the excitement buzzing out of you whenever you would show him a new outfit you found and was trying on. today was no different. a gentle smile painted onto his face, lilac eyes glowing with something warm covered up by playful banter and teasing.

y/n: are you sure? i feel like this one's a bit too skimpy...

ran: exactly, that's the point.

y/n, shoving him playfully: ran! you creep.

ran: i'm a creep for wanting to see my girl all dolled up?

you smiled awkwardly at the knowing glance the fitting room worker flashed your way and nudged ran but he wasn't at all bothered by it and continued teasing you. as usual, the two of you left the store with yet another paper bag wrapped around his slender wrist. the older haitani had such beautiful hands but every time you suggested hand modelling to him he would shoot you down with flirtatious words like 'these hands are only for your eyes though pretty' and you would just give it up. after seeing the 17 bags accumulated around his wrist you decided to drag him to a food stall because you felt kind of bad and knowing ran he would probably try to drag you into another store just to spend more if he knew you felt that way, he loved getting on your nerves especially since you could never stay mad at him for it.

the two of you slide into a small crepe stall and this time you treat him earning a raised brow from him but he agrees, on the conditions that you feed him so you do just that. when you finally manage to wolf your own crepe down, you attempt to reach the tissues but just when you grab them, soft and all too familiar hands wrap around yours, gently taking the napkins from your hand but when you turn to face him ran leans in, cleaning your mouth for you with a tender gaze that made your heart ache. he really loved spoiling you.

stretching your arms above your head you yawn softly only to spot a flash out of the corner of your eye and ran mumbling 'shit' to himself at accidentally being caught taking secret photos of you so you tilt your head slightly giving him a questioning smile while his eyes dart from your face to the screen he has caged between his large palms protecting it from your view but that only piques your interest further.

y/n: hmmm?~ what was that?~

ran: accident.

y/n: whaaat? show me!

ran: its nothing-

you tickle and attack him playfully both of you giggling softly while wrestling for his phone until you're interrupted but the sound of heavy footsteps growing louder with each passing second.

gang member 1: oi its haitani!

gang member 2: holy shit it is him!

ran's playful attitude reserved for you only instantly vanishes and he has you pressed into his back within seconds, as if shielding you not only from the incoming threat but the whole world itself. you don't hear exactly what the guys say but notice how unbothered your boyfriend seems, even as they call him horrible names but when they call him your 'bitch' that has you at your wits end and you're no longer able to put up with them insulting your precious boyfriend even if he doesn't seem to care. you push ran out the way slightly, kicking off the chunky shoes ran had bought you earlier when you complained about your sandals strap drilling between your toes, lifting it in your throwing hand, and show them all the former javelin star of tokyo high school by landing it square in one of the guy's nose. he staggers back as blood pools into his hands and ran snaps out of his surprise, a slight curve now visible in his lip and eyes dancing with amusement as he moves you to stand behind him again, handing you the bags before springing into action.

you can't deny that you're impressed to see ran take down most of them with ease especially considering you had always thought he and his brother were a pair and so were individually a bit weak but boy were you wrong. he tore through them like a lion hunting a heard of zebras, brows slightly focused, beads of sweat sliding down his temple and those same purple eyes emptied as he stares the group down, forcing them to retreat. only once ran is definitely sure its over does he slowly make his way back to you, your discarded shoe from earlier dangling from two slender fingers, eyes automatically soft and tender, braids swaying with every step he takes. ran's eyes don't leave yours as he crouches slowly, rough hands holding your foot as if it's fragile, as if it were made of glass, and his eyes dart down to it, brushing it softly with a gaze so focused it steals your breath away. he's patient and gentle as he slides it back onto your foot, brows furrowed slightly as his focus is entirely centred on tying a symmetrical bow out of your laces just the way you like them, something about it being considered 'cute' among girls. once your shoe is back in place he sets your foot down before rising to his full height again.

ran, signature smirk filling his features once more: there, all pretty again.

you feel a slight heat rise at the back of your neck and flood into your cheeks as your eyes remain locked on ran's and in a spur of the moment, ran is hunched just slightly, but enough for you to hop onto your tiptoes, steadying your hands on his shoulders and pressing a soft peck onto his plush lips. the response is immediate, ran haitani, the playboy who's been with a dozen other girls blushes like an innocent schoolboy and in more ways than one he may be, at least when it comes to you - he was soft for you. you don't dare to turn yet, not with the tomato shade staining your face right now and the stupidly shy smile hacking into your lips at your failure to supress it.

y/n, already speed walking away: l-lets go home...movie marathon!

ran, a dumb grin on his face and fingers intertwining with yours as he catches up: my tv is bigger so my place~

and this time you don't argue because you don't need to. ran haitani loves you and you love him, so no matter how many gang enemies try to harm you, they never will so long as ran is with you and no matter how much they insult him, you would stand up for him every time and have his back; you would have each other, always.

2025 @sanotymanjiro

[mametchiii]

sol et luna ⏾ ksy [1.3k]

"The art of learning to love the moon is an acquired one. One that has taken Kwon Soonyoung six years to master.  And once he’s finally caught up, the world stares in awe of your eclipse."

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst

a/n: i might just be physically incapable of writing something more than 2k words...lol. tagged some songs inside, hope you listen to them! also a repost in case you saw it jn...made some edits

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

fade in: ♫ never loved this way before - BOYNEXTDOOR

You and Soonyoung are quite the opposite souls.

Soonyoung loves like the sun: Among his charm and charisma is a love that always gives. He expects nothing in return, even if it means his love has to remain unrequited for 6 years and counting.

Kwon Soonyoung has always been in love with you since the start. That has been a known fact, to himself, to his best friend Jihoon, and everyone else who knows him.

It’s hard to miss the way his eyes glimmer with adoration whenever he looks at you, the way his head tilts to the side when he listens to you talk incessantly, giving an occasional hum to let you know that he’s still listening. 

A little amusing, but also quite the tragedy. Akin to watching a puppy on a leash; eyes full of hope, excitement, and the uncertainty of where its owner is going to take him next. You being the owner, of course.

The owner of his heart, the one that keeps it isolated outside your body when it longs to beat alongside yours all this while.

— Within the same cage, beating the same rhythm, circulating the same lifeline.

You love like the moon: Quiet, angelic, enchanting, haunting. Not always visible, but Soonyoung knows that you think of him every time the night falls. He only wonders though, if you think of him with a heart as heavy as his when he thinks of you.

When people think of the moon, they admire it for its tranquility, quiescence. They marvel at its beauty, but that’s all they take it for. 

Because the art of learning to love the moon is an acquired one. One that takes years of mastery. Kwon Soonyoung loves you for your elegance, your radiance, and calming presence – a stark difference to his own radiant charm, sometimes overwhelming (not to you, though).

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Soonyoung hears a knock at his front door at 1 a.m, and he already knows who it is. He groans as he wakes, vision clouded with sleep as he moves to sit at the edge of the bed. His head lulls with drowsiness, contemplating whether or not to wait it out so you come back to him in the morning at a more appropriate time.

Still, he lifts off the bed and makes a steady shuffle through the living room and towards the front door.

His hand lands on the handle, covering a yawn with the other as he twists the knob to open the door. It reveals you, unsurprisingly, though disheveled and distraught. Notably barefoot, your heels are in your hand, purse slung over the shoulder of the same arm.

Wordlessly, he lets you into his apartment. Soonyoung picks your handbag as you drop it onto the floor, placing it onto the dresser by the front door. 

He shuffles to the kitchen with more grace than before. He doesn’t bother with the kitchen lights, the lamp from the living room already illuminating the area.

Soonyoung steeps you a hot cup of rooibos and places it on the end table. He sits on the ottoman adjacent to you, and lowers his head to meet your gaze which remains trained at his feet.

He places a hand on your knee. 

“What happened to your date?”

You don’t even bother anymore. It’s the same story each time, almost like a joke that writes itself.

“Same shit.” You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on them. “It’s always the ‘too emotional’ bullshit. Like a lady cant have some fucking feelings and thoughts on how shitty her date is being.”

“I’m starting to feel all guys are the same raunchy pieces of shit.”

That elicits a sympathetic chuckle from Soonyoung. 

When you make eye contact, you let out a small pout and your posture softens.

“Don’t be like that,”  he moves over to sit next to you. 

“There’s someone out there who’s on your level. I’m sure of it.” He looks at you with his lips pursed in a tight smile, masking the fact that he knows exactly who he’s referring to.

You grab the TV remote and flip between the channels, eventually settling on its built-in spotify feature. Soonyoung’s night playlist appears first and you hit shuffle on that.

The soft hum of a synthesiser ensues. Then a beat syrupy and sweet. It feels a little empty, feels like yearning. 

Soonyoung kicks back on the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table and his head against the sofa. He looks up at the ceiling fan then closes his eyes.

He doesn’t need to look at you to know exactly how you look right now: You’re picking at your fingernails like you always do, and biting the skin off your bottom lip. 

Your mouth opens. Then closes. It opens again.

“He left me, you know.” You turn to look at Soonyoung, who’s looking at you now through half-lidded eyes.

A sigh. 

“He left me at the restaurant. An Irish goodbye in Korea, can you believe it? The gall of people nowadays, seriously.” It’s a poorly timed joke, and one that doesn’t land because Soonyoung isn’t smiling.

Only the music fills the room now. You’re thinking how to phrase your next words carefully so it doesn’t seem like you’re the asshole.

“Said I was boring, then spent half the date laughing as he texted away instead. God knows who it was, probably another girl who’s more interesting.”

He’s looking at your hands that continue to pick at your cuticles. You let go to let them rest at your sides instead and lean back on the couch the same way he does.

You let the silence linger a little longer – it’s Soonyoung’s kindness to you. 

And it’s the same peace you’ve been craving after, and he leaves it with you to mull over your thoughts before you continue speaking.

“I should get used to it, the heartbreak, the hurt. I’m always subjected to it for some reason, but it hurts all the same.” You choke up towards the end.

And you can’t help it anymore, but you do your best to quell tears threatening to spill over. 

Saying it out actually makes it sink in more, makes the delivery more painful than it already is – the crushing reality of what you fear may be your eternal damnation. 

It feels venomous almost, but not lethal enough of a dose to stop you from chasing the high of love at its hottest.

“Why are you even thinking that you should be getting used to it? Of course it’ll all hurt the same”

Your head turns to the side. A tear rolls out of your eye and lands on the sofa with a soft thump.

“You’re just with all the wrong guys. You know, like, they don’t actually like you for you. Just the idea of a trophy wife.”

“What?”

Soonyoung sits up now. He places his hand on top of yours. He’s cautious, but it’s warm, so you let it be. Like the afterglow of the sun, it’s healing and grounding.

“Y/N, you're beautiful, incredibly attractive, and you’re literally accomplished to hell.”

It’s a dangerous road he starts on, but he trudges on nonetheless.

“Soony-“

You want to stop him, stop him from saying something he might regret later —

“You’re easy to talk to, so incredibly interesting, kind and caring, and so so smart.” 

You finally shift from his fingers to meet his eyes, and his gaze goes straight through to your heart. Your breath catches in your throat.

It's piercing but strangely melancholic. 

— to stop him from saying something that maybe, you’re not ready to face just yet.

Because you both know. And it's sad and it's sweet, and it mangles your heart in ways that you have his.

“So please, realise that it’s me.” He laces his fingers through yours.

His voice breaks, and continues in a voice barely above a whisper:

“Give me one chance; and it’ll be the best and your last.”

fade in: ♫ pages - WIMY

The art of learning to love the moon is an acquired one. One that has taken Kwon Soonyoung six years to master. 

And once he’s finally caught up, the world stares in awe of your eclipse.

-☾ ☀︎-

[madmarsii]

Hold me tight

Omg, guys, I forgot to post this!

June of Doom 2025 | 15. "Please" (blindfold—fall—touch starved)

---

Part 1

Hero didn’t realize they were falling until it was already too late. The world tilted, crooked and bent, and suddenly up was down and down was up—

Then, gentle hands caught them, steadying them with surprising ease.

“Hello, there,” said the Villain, voice smooth like silk and far too familiar.

Hero was too exhausted to muster annoyance. All they wanted was to postpone their inevitable collapse until they were back home, ideally face-down on the thin mattress in the corner of their room. But encounters with villains never ended with rest. Usually, they meant losing the little sleep Hero was allowed to have.

“Please,” they mumbled, blinking heavily. “I need to get home.”

“I’m here to help, love,” Villain patted them on the head. “You almost sound that you forgot my little promise.”

Oh. That.

Even though seeing Villain’s place was a tempting offer, Hero didn’t have time for that.

“I can’t,” they said, rubbing their eyes. “I have to be back at work in four hours.”

They checked their watch again, as if it would change anything. They really needed to go. Any second wasted here was another blow to their already sleep-deprived body.

“I called to your job and said you’re sick.”

“No you didn’t!”

“Yes I did. Told them you’ve come down with something nasty and shouldn't be out in this weather. They were quite sympathetic, actually.”

Hero fumbled for their phone, panic prickling up their spine. "You didn’t. You can’t just—this is bad, Villain. I need to fix this—"

Villain caught their wrists gently, pulling their hands away.

“People are dying, Villain.” Hero failed to keep their voice steady.

“Yes. And they’ll keep dying. With or without you running around. You can’t stop that.”

“But—“

“No buts. You don’t have to die with them today. Now, come.”

Hero didn’t know what urged them to comply, but they did. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the softness in Villain’s voice. Either way, they didn’t resist as Villain guided them to their car, almost savouring the gentle touch on their wrist.

Villain opened the driver’s side door and picked up two black cotton bands from the seat.

“The blindfold?” asked the Hero.

“So you do remember.”

“What is the second one for?”

“Your hands.”

“We didn’t agree on this.”

“I don’t want your picky fingers anywhere near the blindfold.”

This was stupid idea. Letting the Villain blindfold them, tie them up… they were stupid. Yet they turned and clasped their hands behind their back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I can’t promise that.”

The knot wasn’t anywhere near tight. Hero could probably wriggle out with little effort, if they wanted. They stayed put.

The ride was quite long, but the Hero suspected Villain took some unnecessary turns to further confuse them—not that it would be needed. Exhaustion fogged Hero’s thoughts until they couldn’t focus on anything except the quiet hum of the engine and the soft rhythm of bumps in the road.

At some point, they dozed off, the black blindfold grounding them in comfortable darkness—and soon after, they were rudely waken up again, when the car stopped and the humming sound of the engine died.

Hero felt Villains touch on their arms, as they guided them to lean forward, their fast fingers working on the binds to release their hands.

“And my eyes?”

“Not yet.”

They were helped out of the car, steady hands keeping them from stumbling as they were led forward.

 “Careful. Stairs.”

Inside, once the door shut behind them, it finally weighted down on Hero what they have done: this was very, very stupid idea. They stood motionless, blindfolded, heart hammering. I’m so dead.

But the Villain quickly undid the knot on the blindfold. The soft piece of fabric slipped from their face and fell to their shoulders.

Hero blinked.

The space was... beautiful. All the windows were covered with blinds or heavy curtains, but the interior was spacious, clean, and warm. So unlike the chaos Hero usually associated with Villain’s name.

Villain gently took their hand and led them further in, to the bedroom. “On the bed.”

“Do you like bossing me around like that?”

“Very much.”

Hero laughed, startled by the sound of it. This was getting ridiculous. They shouldn’t be here. The villain shouldn’t be doing this.

But that was the thing about villains. They never cared about what they should or shouldn’t do.

Villain climbed onto the bed behind them and, with a quiet sigh, wrapped their arms around Hero’s torso.

Hero didn’t mean to lean into it… yet they did. They were so tired. Every muscle in their body ached, each bone felt brittle… and the Villain was so warm. They felt tickling breath on their neck, beautifully slow, even and calm.

“When you wake up,” Villain murmured, barely above a whisper. “I will make you watch a cheesy rom-com while I prepare you a breakfast.”

Hero laughed softly. It sounded perfect.

“You want to poison me?” they teased.

“Come on, again?” Villain’s hand moved, slowly rubbing circles into their shoulder blade.

“It is fair for me to assume-”

“Don’t be stupid.”

They shifted behind Hero, not pulling away. Just adjusting, pressing closer, like they could warm Hero from the outside in. Their hand settled at Hero’s chest now, over their heart. Hero’s never been held like this—ever. And they knew, by now, they would always let Villain tie their hands and cover their eyes, if it meant to be touched like this.

---

And I managed to fill the entire prompt!

@juneofdoom

[perpetualprocrastinationisme]

Dream Ending of The Broken Cage/TSC 3 for Jean:

First and foremost, my dream ending of TSC 3 would be the entire Moriyama operation falling apart which would 1) free Kevin, Neil, and Jean from their going pro agreement with Ichirou and 2) fully eliminate the shadow of the Moriyamas that follow them everywhere. I don’t know if this would happen by the FBI following one too many rabbit holes during their investigation of Nathan Wesninski or the remainder of the Perfect Court outright bringing them down. Just think of the possibilities if that did in fact happen!

Jean never has to touch Exy again unless it’s completely of his own volition. My dream headcanon is that he ends up going to culinary school instead of going pro and becomes a chef. The point is though, his life would finally be completely his own! He could marry Jeremy without the fear of him becoming a target for Ichirou if things ever go south in their agreement. The could even start a family if they ever decided to go that route. Instead of worrying about being perfect he could focus on the huge garden in his and Jeremy’s backyard that he tends to with the same amount of precision that he used to devote to Exy. Jab and the other dogs they rescue would run free in the back (because I’m adamant that they would be rescuers for life). They could sit in the backyard in the evening and just enjoy each others company peacefully.

It’s just, the idea of a free Jean is so precious to me. Like, it would obviously have a huge psychological effect on Kevin and Neil if the Moriyamas are finally out of the picture by the last book, but I feel like their lives would likely take the same path. They would go pro, play as long as they could, and then likely stay in Exy in some way for the rest of their lives (wether that be as coaches or commentators). My thing is a feel like they’ve already been given almost everything they need to heal since Riko (and his father, in Neil’s case) is finally out of the picture. I just don’t think Jean has, I think what he truly needs is to finally be freed from Exy for good (if that’s what he wants). He deserves the world and I just hope he ends up getting it in the last book ❤️

[sequinsmile-x]

You've Got a Friend in Me - Part 3

She takes a step forward and stumbles, chuckling under her breath when she looks down to see Sergio at her feet, his head tilted to the side as he looks up at her, something she thinks might be curiosity written across his face. He’d been all over her recently, even more so than usual.

AKA - the one where Emily is pregnant and Sergio is obsessed with the baby.

Part 3/3

Part 1 , Part 2

-x-

Hi besties,

This has more feelings in it that I originally intended, but lets be honest, that's not new haha

Thank you for the love on this fic, and as always - let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None (pregnancy for the fic overall)

Words: 1.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She couldn’t stop staring at her daughter. 

Her daughter. 

A little girl. 

They hadn’t found out what they were having during her pregnancy. She was determined for it to be a surprise, to find out as her baby was passed to her. When the nurse told them it was a girl as she handed her into Emily’s shaking hands, it felt right. Like everything was finally clicking into place. She’d held her little girl against her chest and looked at her, studying her features as her world narrowed down to her, the baby and Aaron, all three of them huddled together while everyone else in the room seemed to disappear. 

It was only when the nurse asked if Aaron wanted to cut the cord that Emily’s world opened back up. Aaron had nodded, and he tore himself away from her side - where he’d been unfaltering in his love and support for hours - and he listened intently as the nurse told him what to do. She’d just about been able to tear her attention away from her baby to look at him, to see the same frown of concentration she’d seen on his face a thousand times as he was careful to follow the instructions she’d barely heard him given. It makes her fall in love with him all over again, makes her want to leap out of the bed, even though she isn’t sure she could if she wanted to, and soothe the deep line between his brows with the press of her thumb. 

He loved her, Jack and now Rose so entirely that she often wondered what she’d done to deserve this, to finally have a place in the type of family that she used to look at with barely concealed envy. She liked to think they were due it, that both she and Aaron had survived the unsurvivable - both together and apart - to make it right here. To make it to each other. 

She’d enjoyed a few hours where it was just them before Aaron went to get Jack. She had said from the start that she wanted the little boy to be the only visitor in the hospital. She wanted time to settle in as a family, to soak up every happy and exhausting moment before she shared it with the world. It was a rule she’d set that had followed them home, one she’d keep in place until Rose was a couple of weeks old. 

She’d waited a long time for this, and at one point she thought she’d wait forever, so for once she wasn’t thinking about other people's feelings. She wasn’t thinking of Penelope’s pout or her mother’s passive-aggressive comments when she told everyone no visitors at first. She was just thinking of her baby, her little boy, her husband and the soft epilogue they all deserved. 

Jack was delighted when he came to visit them. He’d made no secret of the fact that he wanted a sister and not a brother, and he’d been so careful when he held her for the first time. Gentle in a way that made her ache as he leant down and kissed his little sister’s forehead. 

Emily tilts her head to look down at Rose, and she wonders if it will ever stop. If she’ll ever look at her baby and not be hit with a wave of love so strong it was overwhelming, taking up all the space in her chest as it forces her to gasp as she tries to suck in a breath. She knew it was hormones, that she was hard-wired to think Rose was the cutest thing she’d ever seen, but all logic went out the window every time she looked at her sweet face. 

Ever since Aaron had left them to go get Jack from school, Emily had been lying on the couch with Rose fast asleep on her chest, and she struggled to think of the last time she’d been so happy. She was exhausted. Sore in ways she didn’t know was possible, and leaking out of places she wasn’t entirely sure she knew she had, but she was so happy. 

She chuckles as she feels Sergio’s purr vibrate through her chest, and she looks at him, curled up next to Rose with his chin resting on her tiny back as Emily holds her in place with her hand on her bottom. 

She wasn’t the only one who was happy. 

Sergio had been obsessed with Rose since they brought her home just a few hours ago. He’d sniffed her, his expression curious as he gently booped her sleeper covered feet with his nose, and ever since he’d seemingly determined she was the same creature he’d been in love with for months, he’d been stuck to her side. 

“You finally met your best friend, huh?” She says, scratching between his ears, “I think I’m going to have a hard time keeping you two apart.” She smiles as she hears a car pull onto the driveway, and she kisses Rose’s dark hair, “That will be Daddy with your brother,” she says, kissing her again, “He’ll be so excited to see you.” 

They’d got home from the hospital that afternoon while Jack was at school. Aaron hadn’t told him that morning that she and Rose were being discharged because he knew Jack would refuse to go to school if he had. 

Emily groans as she sits up, dislodging Sergio as she does so, her hand on Rose’s back as she keeps her firmly against her chest. She’s just about sitting comfortably when she hears thundering footsteps on the porch steps and her eldest's excited voice travelling through the wooden door. 

“Hurry up, Dad.” He says, and Aaron’s response is a little quieter, muffled by the front door before she hears the key scrape in the lock. The door opens, and Jack runs into the living room, his eyes wide in delight as he runs over, “You’re home.” It surprises her when he hugs her first. When he wraps his arms around her neck and gives her attention over his baby sister. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she says as she wraps an arm around him and kisses his temple, looking over at her husband with shining eyes before she pulls back to look at Jack, “We wanted to surprise you by being here when you got home.”

“This is the best surprise ever,” he says, looking down at Rose, “Can I hold her again? I remember how to!” 

“Of course you can, buddy,” Aaron says, smiling as he walks over, “You just need to wash your hands first.” He adds, and Jack is out of the room before Aaron has even finished his sentence, and it makes him laugh. He sits on the couch next to Emily and wraps his arm around her shoulders, “How are my girls?” 

“We’re good,” Emily says, turning her head to kiss him, “We snuggled with Sergio while you were gone.” 

He smiles as he kisses her back, the action lost somewhere among their happiness, a smile pressed against a smile, “I was gone for 30 minutes, and you were snuggling with another guy.” 

“Well, he was snuggling with her really,” she hums, “I think I was just convenient to lie on.” 

Jack runs back into the room, residual soap on his t-shirt from how enthusiastically he’d washed his hands, and he holds them up as if to prove he’d done as she asked, “Can I hold her now?” 

Emily nods, “Of course, sweetie,” she says, nodding towards the other end of the couch, “Why don’t you sit down?” He does as he’s asked and holds his arms out like he’d shown him in the hospital the night before. 

Aaron puts a cushion under his elbow to support it, ���Remember what we told you? You need to-”

“Support her head, I know,” he says, rolling his eyes in a way Aaron would always claim he never did before Emily lived with them. He smiles as Emily carefully places Rose in his arms, and his eyes and smile get wider, love shining down on his little sister, “Hi Rosie, do you remember me?” 

Emily makes sure she stays close, but sits back so she’s leaning against Aaron, groaning in delight as he holds her against him, his lips pressed against her temple as they watch their children together. She feels love flood her lungs when Jack continues to talk to his sister, and she has to blow out a slow breath to try and get a grasp on her emotions, but they slip through her fingers, and any attempt to stop herself from crying is lost when Sergio climbs onto the back of the couch. He settles behind Jack and rests his chin on his shoulder, staring down at the newest member of the family as he starts to purr loudly enough she can hear it from where she was sitting. 

“God damn it,” she says, sniffing as she wipes her cheek as tears slip down onto them. She turns to look at Aaron and sees tears shining in his eyes too, “That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”