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starseungs · 1 year ago

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after the curtain falls. lmh

lee know x gn!reader — spring was a season welcomed by all. what a pity that the notion of ‘all’ exempted you.

genre/s — angst, fluff, its just hurt-comfort, university au • 2.9k words

warning/s — break-up aftermath, profanity, commitment issues, minho gets called a bad bf (sorry), there's a twist i swear !

note — its quite literally been a year since i last wrote a fic so i would love to know how the quality of my writing is !! feedback is greatly appreciated 🫶

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Spring was never supposed to be this lifeless.

It was a season of new beginnings, where growth is celebrated and life is nurtured back into full bloom. A time of bright colors and freshly scented air floating all throughout the expanse of space, bringing soft smiles of comfort towards anyone who takes it in. Springtime was welcomed by all.

What a pity that the notion of ‘all’ exempted you.

You didn’t know why your spring was so vastly different from the others near you. You’d like to think that your winter started off just as normal as everybody else: watching the crisp fallen leaves on the ground get replaced by a fresh coat of snow, feeling the familiar prick of the icy season’s breeze on your skin as your body tried to suppress a giggling shiver, as well as seeing puffs of steam come out of every warm breath you took, reminding you that despite the cold weather, you still held a warmth inside of you.

Just who would have known that your spring would be the complete opposite, with your heart frosted over despite the rising temperatures? But somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew exactly why. You would never want to catch yourself admitting it, but maybe it was the way your winter ended in a snowstorm of emotions.

It wasn’t every winter that someone had a fight that could completely shatter an intricately built mosaic. It also wasn’t every winter that you would watch your other half walk out of your life without so much of a single falter.

You knew so damn well that it wasn’t every winter that you could get your heart broken.

Perhaps that was why you allowed your heart to get glazed over by ice. After all, it was the only thing keeping it together without requiring you to spend too much effort. Sure, it melted a bit every now and then, but it was easier to freeze liquid than it was to achieve the complete opposite.

It was for the same reason that you found solace in the springtime evenings, where it resembled even half of the winter that was keeping you human. The dimmed atmosphere of the surroundings was able to neutralize all the parading palettes of color, leaving you with a monochrome wonderland that was much more comforting to the eye.

The walk back to your dorm building wasn’t anything special. It really wasn’t supposed to, nor did you expect something to happen. You had just gotten over the hurdles of coursework back in the school’s library when you decided to call it a day, peacefully trek back to your dorm room, and get to sleep the hours away until duty calls. That was how your evening was supposed to go.

Except it didn’t.

When you first saw a figure more or less passed out near the lower steps of your dorm building, you were visibly concerned. Why wouldn’t you be? At this time of the day, it would be dangerous to just leave yourself undefended in public. That, and who in their right mind would be willing to snooze away amidst the midnight breeze?

That was enough for you to start a little jog toward them. Was this person locked out? Were they drunk? Should you help them? All sorts of questions popped into your head as you got closer to the steps the figure took as their bed for the night.

And yet all those same questions vanished into thin air the moment you caught a glimpse of the person’s face.

“—Minho?”

His name came out of your lips so frail, as if any stronger, and the scene before you would shatter into nothingness, telling you once again that it was all in your head. That you had wished to see him again.

It was almost comical just how fast the sight of him brought back the familiar prick in your eyes—the tears fighting the crisp blow of the wind to keep themselves at bay. This wasn’t how your evening was supposed to go.

Granted, the fight between you was a petty one. Well, not more so petty than sudden since it literally blew up out of nowhere. It started off with a question about commitment. Arguably simple one of where you saw each other in a few years. You had gone first after you asked, rambling happily about graduation and living together. Minho chuckled along with your plans, and to you, he even seemed glad to hear them.

Yet, when the topic of marriage was brought up, his smile immediately turned blank.

Of course, you noticed his drastic change of mood right away. What kind of significant other would you be if you didn’t? But when you reached out to ask him what was wrong, he merely brushed it off as being tired.

Except that both you and him had done nothing but lay around the whole day.

Maybe you, too, had a fault in all of this. You prodded him more about the topic, not knowing you were agitating a ticking time bomb running out of time. If you only knew, then it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he eventually exploded, spitting out that he wasn’t too sure about marriage.

In your view, that would have been fine. You were willing to talk it out; perhaps he had other plans for the both of you that would settle just fine in yours. There was no way you’d pressure Minho into doing something he didn’t feel like doing. You had too much love and respect for him to do so.

It was in an unfortunate turn of events that you had to find out the sentiment wasn’t shared in the same way you did, as when he slammed your room’s door shut after expressing that it wouldn’t work out, he took a piece of your heart with him that left you incomplete on the days that followed.

And yet, there he was again. Marching into your life like nothing ever happened.

In a blinding flash of hot white fury, you marched up to Minho’s peaceful figure, blissfully unaware of the chaos headed his way. Your body shook in the repressed burst of energy, trying not to lose yourself in public despite the area devoid of people. After reaching him in less than a minute, you saw no hesitation in leaning down to wake him.

“Minho,” you grasped at his right shoulder, trying to shake him out of slumber. You saw the action as intense in a way that was borderline frantic, not a care for the state of the joint you had grabbed. After all, why would you? Yet, while you’d like to believe you did a great job at expressing your displeasure, a small voice pestering at the back of your mind begged to say otherwise.

It was a mere whisper—directed at the act you just committed, one that shouldn’t even bother you in the slightest. Yet, it did. So painfully so.

That kind of gentleness isn’t reserved for a heart swirling in rage.

The slight squeeze in your heart at the notion only made you grit your teeth further in displeasure. Curse your damned heart for keeping its fondness for the man before you. The same man who was still up in dreamland while you were fighting your own war at the present. You clicked your tongue in building irritation.

“Wake up, or else I’m leaving you out here to freeze.” With one last shove, Minho finally came back to Earth.

You watched as he fluttered his eyes open, ignoring the warmth that seemed to spread over you once you got a glimpse of his big almond eyes. Minho sure took his sweet time to process his surroundings, causing you to purse your lips in uncertainty when his gaze lingered on your figure towering over him a bit too long with an unexplainable emotion.

“Hi,” he mumbled slowly, a small smile ghosting on his rosy lips. “Even in my dreams, you never fail to look so lovely.”

Cold air filled your lungs as you sucked in a breath at his words. You hated the way he easily melted the ice that you had covered your heart in. Without even meaning to, Minho had already managed to tear down the first layer of protection you had set up to keep yourself sane. There were a lot of things you wanted to tell him back, but you held your tongue. This wasn’t the right time.

Nor would that time ever come.

“It’s not a dream,” you opted to inform him of what was left of the goodness in your heart, partly feeling guilty for his disoriented state. “Get up, Minho. It’s cold out here.”

“You’re—what, wait!”

Minho scrambled frantically from his seated position on the dorm building’s steps, clumsily finding his balance to get up. The rush of suddenly standing after a nap came over him like a wave, causing him to stumble with a groan as he let the blood that came up settle. You sighed at Minho’s efforts, turning back around to continue your way towards the entrance.

“You should go back home.”

“I won’t!” He replied in haste, pure desperation seeping over his words. “Not again. Not when I spend every passing hour regretting that I did back then when I clearly shouldn’t have.”

You felt your world still at what Minho had just said. Did you hear it correctly?

“Please, Y/N.”

Minho’s footsteps echoed in your mind, telling you that he was moving closer. But your body had yet to listen to the warning bells you had set off, keeping you still in the same place you had stopped in. You surprised yourself with the small whimper that escaped your lips after feeling warmth radiating right behind you.

“Can—can I hug you?”

And just like that, the dam broke as the first fits of sobs spluttered out of your body in waves, barely getting contained as Minho wrapped you with his arms firmly. You turned to face him just to throw weak punches at his chest. “I hate you so much!”

“I know,” he said, hugging you tighter, as if you would disappear the moment he eased his hold. “I know you do.”

“Do you know how hurt I was? How could you just leave me like that!”

“I don’t know,” Minho answers again, completely giving in to your inner turmoil. He let you dampen his hoodie with your tears without any reference. “I was stupid.”

“So stupid!”

“Very stupid,” he repeats your words without hesitation, finally pulling back slightly to see your tear-stained face, gently wiping the fresh drops that escaped with his thumb.

You cursed the way your body naturally leaned into his touch. You disliked the way his voice soothed your running mind from the horrors it placed upon yourself. You hated the way you felt comforted by his presence, the same way he hurt you with his absence.

And most of all, you despised the way you couldn’t bring yourself to stay mad at him.

“I’m sorry,” Minho said heavily, visibly trying to keep his own tears at bay. “I know that won’t fix all the things that happened, but I still wanted to let you know.”

You exhaled shakily.

“I—I won’t force you to accept my apology,” he continued. “But please—God, Y/N. I don’t think I’d be able to handle you telling me to go home and never fixing us. I wouldn’t survive in this world without you by my side. I promise I’ll do better for you. I’ll reflect on what I need to, just—”

Minho breathed in deeply.

“Give me another chance.”

The two of you breathed in unison for the first time in weeks.

“Cut!”

“Nice,” Jisung’s squeal of joy could be heard throughout the wide space, carefully fumbling with his video camera to watch the scene’s replay. “That was a great take!”

Seungmin groans at the noise level. “Seriously, would it hurt you to keep it down? Some people are already asleep,” he scoffs, really not wanting to deal with a complaint filed against them this late into the night.

The younger of the two only juts his lower lip forward into a childish pout. “But it’s only midnight. We’re in university. Who gets to sleep that early in university?” Seungmin only bites back a retort after sensing genuine confusion in Jisung’s tone.

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

At the sound of their bickering, the late night’s breeze didn’t seem to be as frosty as it was a few minutes ago. You distantly hear Seungmin and Jisung continue to talk, now finding themselves in a heated discussion about the next scene. A light chuckle was heard coming from the man still holding you.

“Well, I’m glad that they’re having fun,” Minho comments, greatly amused at the duo. You felt his gaze drop down towards your head, still resting on his shoulder. “Feeling okay?”

You could only nod at his query, too exhausted from enacting the scene that just finished. He hummed at your non-verbal approach to answering, running a hand through your hair to soothe your dropping emotions.

“What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?” You let out a soft giggle at his wording before snuggling yourself closer to his figure. Minho lets you do your thing with a smile.

“Let’s not ever do that.”

“Do what, love?” He asks, requesting that you elaborate. You listened to his heartbeat thump calmly before speaking up.

“Break up,” you said, the thought leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. “I don’t like the feeling. It hurts.”

Minho laughs again, but this time it was aimed at you. “Well, of course it’s going to hurt,” he says with a light tone. “You’re going to be losing me!” You slapped his arm in annoyance.

“You are such an ass, Lee Minho!”

“Ow—hold on!” He chokes out in between chuckles. Minho takes hold of the hand that was assaulting his arm, slipping it into his own and entangling both of your fingers. You couldn’t help the heat that washed over your face at the intimate action. Minho seemed satisfied with your reaction. “If it makes you feel better, it’s going to hurt me too.”

You pull away to raise a brow at his statement. “Why? Since you’ll be single?” Minho pretends to think for a second.

“I mean, I guess?” You shot him an icy glare at his admission, but the tender smile he gave back at you made your angry facade falter in an instant. It looks like on-screen you had the same issues with their own Minho—both being undeniably weak when it came to them.

“Stop giving me that look,” you sigh amidst a smile you were suppressing.

“What look?”

“That look,” you say, almost in a breath as you struggle to chase the words out of your mouth. “The one when you look at me like I’m the only person in this world.”

It was a look you’ve seen too many times. One that he would give you both at the most intimate of moments and the most random of times. You see it when you wake up in the morning to him already awake beside you; you saw it when you squealed in joy after winning a prize from those rigged claw machines in the arcade across town; and you see it especially when he sees you waiting outside his class’ building after an extensive lecture, holding two cups of coffee for both you and him. It was from those times that you realized—it was Minho’s gaze of unfiltered love for you.

Minho pulls you back into his arms, still unable to let go of his endearing grin. Your head finds its way back into the crevice of his neck, finding home in it once again, like second nature.

“That’s because you are the only person in my world.”

“We beg to differ.”

Minho could only roll his eyes at the eerily synchronized voices of Jisung and Seungmin, leaving you to crumble into fits of laughter. He scoffs before replying, “If I lose my beloved darling, then you guys are losing an actor.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be trying to salvage your relationship if you stopped being such a shit boyfriend!” Jisung bites back at Minho’s threat.

“What, so you would rather watch us be all lovey-dovey in front of you? I didn’t take you for that kind of person, Jisung.”

“Seungmin, he’s fighting me again!”

“What am I, your mom?”

The night continued on in blissful laughter and amused smiles, finally fitting for the season of spring. Even with the chilled breeze of the evening air, the warmth exuding from the four of you would remain, defrosting the ice you had layered on your heart for the scene given to you. Deep in your mind, you knew that this was really how your night was supposed to go.

That as much as you loved creating little scenarios for your friends’ films, you’d always prefer the life you had after the curtain falls.

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu

sorry for anyone tagged that didn't want to be !! i used my old mastertag from a year ago for this fic. i'll be creating a new one soon, so kindly just tell me if you want to be included still 🤍

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ghostyuri · 10 months ago

Text

sour times

click here!

pairing…jackson!abby x gn!reader x ellie

in which…you confront your not-so-great relationship with abby after she had stolen your best friend from you.

before you read…angst *sigh.* brief sexual content (for the plot!! no smut) you’re kinda mean here but i forgive you. 🫶

“do you like her?” “i don’t…i don’t know…i think so.”

her perfect blonde braid taunts you. you believe this is what hell is, following the lead of abigail anderson while the biting wind howls around you, snowflakes hitting your tender skin.

the landscape is a winter wonderland, but you can’t seem to enjoy it in this state. perhaps if you were in the comfort of your bedroom, hot chocolate in your hand, and ellie williams by your side, you’d be in heaven. but that’s not even achievable these days. her time is spent with abby, the two in the woman’s garage, doing whatever when you’re not around, and you never are.

it’s torturous to be the third. you had ellie first, your first real friend in the small town. you weren’t hers, cat had that blessing. but regardless, it appeared no one could even crack the bond you two had. and then she came along.

strolling into jackson like a puppy with eyes that resembled a stormy sea, her long hair adorned in a neat fishtail braid. she was sweet, but not in the naive way. she stood her ground when challenged, she showed her strength when needed, and she proved just how valuable she was to your community.

she also had a face you could admire for days, like some goddess one would worship many lifetimes ago. tan freckles scatter across her nose like lilies in a field, compared to ellie’s that are like stars in a busy midnight sky. they make their way down to her chest, sprinkled on her shoulders, and dancing over her biceps— her fucking biceps. god. abby was just fucking perfect. it aggravates you.

maybe that’s why ellie took a liking to her so rapidly. you get it— you hate it. and last night, you couldn’t help but ask your friend about their relationship, asking the auburn-haired woman if it was a crush. such a silly word, you had thought as it left your mouth. ellie even laughed quietly at it, avoiding an answer. then, you had asked again, ‘do you like her?’

and ellie had answered after hesitation, ‘i think so.’

i think so. jealousy coursed through your veins at the simple and uncertain answer; but you cannot pinpoint why, exactly. you never thought you liked ellie in that way. there was no doubt she was attractive, ellie happens to own that word, but your friendship was simply that.

a friendship. no delving into romantic territory besides some lingering touches and a bit too deep all-nighters. there was nothing that made you yearn for her, when you already had her in such proximity to you, at your very fingertips. abby did a good job fucking that up, though.

so you sat there, like a void was sucking you up at her answer. the idea of them…being a thing…sent chills down your spine. a nightmare possibly becoming a reality, if the feelings are mutual. and that scares you even more, abby finding herself enamored by ellie. somehow spending even more time with her than she already does. spending nights and mornings in her bed. it was all wrong.

something that has yet to happen, already terrorizing you. it just can’t happen.

abby slows down her horse to walk beside you rather than in front of you, “you’re quiet…something wrong?”

you meet her eyes, legitimate concern within them. you were never the most talkative with her, but abby isn’t stupid and the tension in the air is almost as painful as the harsh weather you’re enduring. she wonders if she’s the cause of it.

did she forget to wish you a good morning at the stables, something she did every single patrol? give you the wrong impression when she stared at you, utterly captivated by you? make you feel weak when she pulled an infected off of you, hands wandering your body making sure you were okay?

you answer her bluntly, “no.”

she tries again, “you can tell me if i did something…”

“you didn’t,” you insist, and surprisingly, it’s only a half lie. it’s the conversation with ellie that’s hanging over you like a dark cloud, and abby happens to be the focal point of it.

abby seems to accept your response, for now, and tears her eyes off you. the wind has managed to pick up, and the horses are growing slower as they trudge through the snow.

“that house up there,” abby motions with her head, a red house amongst the beige ones that surround it, “let’s hold up there.”

a stubborn part of you wants to tell her that she can wait there, and you will continue home. but you’re not a moron, and you don’t exactly feel like dying today, as much as ellie tempted you with the morbid idea. you’re freezing and crave shelter, even if that means being stuck another hour or so with abby.

you follow abby to the home, waiting on your horse as she hops off hers, lifting the garage door for you to enter. when you do, there’s immediate relief in your body, abby behind you whispering sweet words to her horse, stroking the golden fur as she does so. it’s, unfortunately, cute. you keep your smile to yourself, patting your own horse when you get off her, then reaching for your gun before entering the home.

“wait.” you pause and look back at abby, who walks in front of you, taking the lead yet again. an innocent yet condescending action that irks you deeply, watching the woman quietly slip past the wooden door, scanning the area for any sort of threat.

you’re not as quiet when you follow behind her, stepping on some wrapper that crackles beneath your shoe, abby eyeing you like you spit on her. you brush it off, “i’ll check upstairs.”

“i’ll go with you.” “jesus— i don’t want you to.”

your sharp tongue takes her back, but there’s no anger in her eyes, it’s that same concern from moments ago. it makes you feel bad, but instead of apologizing, you leave her there, going upstairs like you said you would.

the old stairs creak with each quick step that you take, you forget the purpose of you coming up here. you just wanted to get away from her. that’s the reason why you’re immediately against a wall, snarling in your ear from a rotten corpse trying to bite it off.

you resist, holding it at an arm's length away with one hand, the other reaching in your pocket for your pocket knife. your hands are cold and shaky, dropping it the moment you pull it out, when the splatter of blood meets your face. the thing is dead, falling before you, eyes meeting hers.

“a-are you—” “i’m fine,” you say coldly, bumping your shoulder with hers when you take a step forward and continue on. abby is really fucking confused, remaining frozen in the hall, staring at the dead infected at her feet. her eyes trail to your pocket knife, then back to you.

you push open bedroom doors as you pass them, hardly searching them for any more infected. you assume if they wanted to, they’d attack you right then and there, and maybe if you’re lucky, a blonde knight in shining armor will save you. she had an annoying habit of doing so.

“hey,” abby jogs toward you, trapping you in a doorway, “dropped this.”

the metal glimmers in her hands, and you’re quick to take your beauty of a weapon from her. oddly, you’re protective of the inanimate object, a thoughtful gift from ellie herself. the handle is a dulled shade of your favorite color, and the blade is a bit rusted, but that doesn’t bother you. “thanks,” you mumble, waiting for her to move. she doesn’t.

“wanna tell me why you’re acting like this?” “like what?”

“like that.” “what’s that?”

abby blinks at you, and you remain unfazed. you can tell her calm demeanor is deteriorating before you, patience running thin. “what did i do to you?” she asks, “since i showed up in jackson…it’s like you hate me.”

ouch. the words sting you more than her, and you cannot blame her for believing in such a thing. what have you done to show her otherwise?

held back smiles when she made kind remarks, generous gestures, and stupid jokes? left her out of conversations, not daring to spare eye contact when it was you, her, and ellie, sitting together? made weak small talk that made her feel like nothing but an acquaintance in town, when she just wanted more?

you sigh, “i don’t…hate you.”

“you make that really hard to believe,” abby replies, crossing her arms. this close, you examine how the tip of her nose and cheeks are a hue of red from the bitter weather. it almost matches her lips…her lips. you’re watching her lips. you catch yourself, and whatever this is, pushing her away. you swallow the dusty air, fast steps taking you right back downstairs.

of course, abby is on your trail. “you know we’re stuck here, right?”

like a flip had been switched, you’re once again snappy with her, “no shit.”

“you confuse me, you know that?”

you pretend to ignore her words, focusing on the fireplace in the living room. there are enough logs to last as you wait out the blizzard, so you tug your backpack off and drop it on the distressed coffee table. you search for your matches, that are always in the first pocket in your bag, but they’re not there.

you’re trying to remember when you took them out, or if they fucking ran away on their own. it doesn’t matter— abby is already ahead of you, and an orange glow suddenly illuminated the dim room. you turn your head, seeing the obnoxious sly grin on her face. “you’re welcome.”

you don’t thank her. you sit on the worn-out floral sofa a few feet away, eyes boring into the flames that are quick to warm you. “do you want a blanket?” abby offers, which you shake your head at. “you hungry?” again, you respond a ‘no,’ with your head.

the problem with abby is that she’s genuine. she cares about you even if you have not shown the same worry toward her. and maybe that speaks for you more than abby.

you don’t notice her reaching in her bag, pulling out some crumpled up gauze, until she sits beside you and reaches for your face. you move away when you feel her touch, furrowing your brows at her. “wanna be stubborn and keep that blood on your pretty face?”

your cool cheeks heat up, hardened appearance softening just slightly, then allowing her to wipe the nasty fluid off. she’s soft as she does so, taking her time, and the opportunity to adore your features at such close proximity. you’d probably give her a scowl if you realized so.

“is it her?”

“what?” “ellie. did she piss you off?”

abby is too observant for your own good. there’s only one…two people in jackson that can invoke such strong emotions from you, even if you hide them poorly. “no…”

“you kinda suck at this lying thing,” abby calls you out, large hand on your cheek, turning it so she can clean up any remaining blood on the other side of your face. “if she did, i could kick her ass.”

the somewhat joke leaves you with a puzzled expression. and then you laugh. “yeah, okay,” your tone is nothing but sarcastic, “like you’d ever take my side over hers.”

“what do you mean?”

you bite your lip, tearing your eyes off her and into the burning wood. it’s not a loaded question, but it’s a loaded answer. to explain to her that ellie is her priority, as abby is hers, and you’re just there. someone that was kicked to the curb, left for envy to grow on you like poison ivy.

you keep it short, “you guys are close.”

“well, yeah, we’re friends.” for now, you think, a humorless chuckle quietly escaping your lips. abby catches it, opens her mouth, and immediately shuts it. she finally lets go of your face, tossing the crimson coated gauze on the floor, her pupils still trained on you. the loss of her touch almost bothers you. then she speaks again.

“do you…do you think i like her or something? because we aren’t…anything.”

seconds pass in silence as you debate the question dancing on your tongue, curious if it’s overstepping but more intrigued about the answer. even if it will hurt to hear, you simply need to know. “do you want to be?”

“no, of course not.”

guilt ruins through your veins at the relief that settles in your body, knowing poor ellie would frown at the unrequited feelings. but there’s something else that gives you hope…why the fuck do you have hope? you gulp, “okay.”

“do you like her?” “what?!” “is that what this is about?”

“no— no it’s not, it’s not that.” “then what is it?”

you, honestly, cannot give her a proper response. this isn’t about some stupid nonexistent crush on your friend, yet that would make the most sense for whatever these feelings of resentment are.

you’re quiet as you try to think of something, and it doesn’t help that her blue-grey eyes are zoning into you, as if she’s trying to peel the complicated layers off of you. she’s trying to understand, she really is, and it painfully makes your heart swell. you truly do get ellie.

your façade of disinterest is chipping away like the paint on these very walls, her gaze on you making you want to break— to give in —and the moment your eyes fall to her pink lips, you do exactly that.

you close the space between you two, nearly crawling on the couch and in her lap when you gently grab the sides of her face, kissing her before you even realize that you’re kissing her. it was an urge you couldn’t simply couldn’t resist. and abby welcomes it.

she moves in sync, pushing her lips against yours deeper, surprised when you pull away. the moment hits you at once; you and abby. abby and you. it has your eyes widened and lips parted, searching for something to say. sorry? no…that doesn’t feel right. you’re not sorry. and abby doesn’t want you to apologize, she needs you to keep going.

as if you both read the others mind, you lean into each other, connecting your lips once more.

you think of ellie, what she had told you with such vulnerability, and then you think of abby. abby, who had a intense desire to taste you, and was making that evidently clear. the aftermath of whatever this is, will be dealt with when that time comes.

you swallow the guilt when your tongue mixes with hers, abby tugging you on top of her, gripping your shirt like her life depends on it. her eagerness sends shivers down your spine, more intense than the horrid weather outside ever could to you.

it feels too good to stop, she feels too good. abby is unbuttoning her jacket, while you’re tugging yours off, the kiss suddenly messy as you’re both failing to multitask. you giggle against her lips when you both manage to do so, her callous hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you closer. if that were possible.

you deepen the kiss, your hands slipping beneath the knit long sleeve shirt she wears. you explore the abs you’ve only ever seen through tight shirts that had you in a daze, not that you would’ve ever admit that to her, though. she attempts to say your name against your lips, her voice weak and breathy.

you pull away and tilt her chin up with your fingers, trailing your lips down her jaw, to the side of her neck. the world outside vanishes as abby loses herself in the sensation of your lips on her neck, sweet kisses that shift to gentle bites.

it’s the tender spots that you suck, that earn hushed whimpers from her. and you make sure to do it over, over, and over again. like a damn vampire, sinking your teeth into her, and marking your territory, when she’s not even yours.

and then you stop, noticing the room was dark. the fire had gone out. “we should— uh,” you climb off of her, the woman catching the breath she seemed to hold still the entire time.

“yeah…” she agrees, chest rising, licking her lips.

the wind has calmed down by now, a tolerable ride home that’s extremely quiet, besides the occasional gust of wind. except it’s not awkward the way it was hours prior. you’re exchanging short glances at the other, small smiles when your eyes would meet.

you make it back to jackson safely, both of you dropping off the horses at the stables, making small talk as you walk home. you’re not talking about what just happened inside that red house, both of you are too shy to bring it up, to ask if that meant anything to the other.

it truthfully drifts from your mind as abby is explaining a childhood story, until your eyes fall on her. ellie, heading in your direction, toward you two.

it’s when she gets closer, that her pupils fall to abby’s neck; the pale skin decorated with purple marks, caused by you. she had been so worried about you two, and now, she feels dumb. and hurt.

especially when you just give her a tight-lipped smile, knowing exactly what you have done. and more importantly, that you wanted her to see it.

#-🐈‍⬛#uhhhh *scratches back of neck*#this is heavily an abby fanfic but there is ellie x reader everywhere for those with the eyes to see #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby x reader #abby anderson x gn!reader #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #wlw fanfic #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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purple-writer8 · 1 year ago

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Suburban Legends - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“When you hold me, it holds me together.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, self loathing, reader is a handful, ice powers, groping, lesser fae slander

1.7k words

Part Two to Heather

Masterlist :)

He kissed you. Azriel kissed you. And then you winnowed away, because he kissed you in a way that you knew would screw you up forever. Because Azriel could never love you. You were not soft like Elain, were not some soft baker with beautiful High Fae features.

No. You were just a winterling. A lesser fae that iced everything around her. You paced the House of Wind, paced and paced through the entire manor— scared out of your mind of seeing Azriel again. Why would he kiss you?

Your mind raced and raced and raced.

Azriel deserved someone better than you, he deserved Elain. Not some winterling that got jealous because of a sweater, jealous and you two weren’t even together. Oh, you were so embarrassed— you wanted to die. You got a quick snack in the kitchen, thanking the house for it, and then you rushed up to your room.

Cauldron, you would die of embarrassment if you saw Azriel.

The way that he kissed you, it killed you, because you knew that you were doomed. How were you supposed to live now that you had tasted him? He had kissed you out of pity, you were sure. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do.

As you ate your chips and dip, you noticed a shadow slithering underneath your door. You ignored it. He probably just wanted to know if you were freaking out or something.

You heard footsteps outside your door and froze when they stopped in front of it. You whispered a curse when your plate with your snack turned to ice, you really had to start controlling your powers.

A knock sounded against the wood of your door, and you wanted to die. You could feel the ice appearing through your body, invading your skin as it did whenever you were in distress— a winterling defense mechanism. You remained silent, unmoving, and after not answering the door for minutes, the shadow and it’s singer left— footsteps disappearing down the hall.

You were tempted to run out of your room and go after him but you were never going to do that. You would die of embarrassment if Azriel simply rejected you, telling you that he only kissed you because he felt bad.

Azriel knocked on your door every night for an entire week, maybe to reject you, or maybe to send you on a mission. You were not sure, but you had barricaded yourself in your room. If you were needed for a mission, Rhysand would reach you, you were sure. Your room had turned into a winter wonderland, your anxiety making your ice powers almost uncontrollable— and frankly unbearable. You were sure you had frost bite by now.

A knock sounded to your door, and instantly you turned to it, watching for the shadow that would always check on you when Azriel came. But no shadow appeared. “Darling? It’s me.”

Surely you could die from embarrassment when you heard the High Lord outside your door. You whimpered when more ice manifested from your fingertips, it fucking hurt and you were sure your fingers could be thawed off your hands any moment now.

Dark majestic talons caressed your mind, and you were tempted to let them in— but instead reinforced the walls that kept Rhysand out, because how fucking embarrassing is it to let your High Lord see how you’ve iced your entire room just because a guy doesn’t want you.

You are supposed to be better than that. But you weren’t.

“Open the door,” the High Lord ordered, and you complied.

His violet eyes widened when he took in the state of your room. “I… What… I… Ice.” Was all he managed to say as he stepped into the room, shivering as the cold hit him.

You smiled awkwardly, unnaturally, “hey.”

“So when Cassian said you turned his room into ice… he meant this?” Rhysand asked and you nodded, awkwardly shifting your weight on your feet. His eyes took in your form and you almost covered your face, but you didn’t. Because the one person who knew all your flaws and ugliness was your High Lord, and he accepted you that way.

It wasn’t a pretty sight when you lost control. As a winterling lesser, the powers that you had were all ice ones. You could wield ice from your fingertips, and when distress happened upon your body— ice bloomed through your flesh, because your blood turned cold. You weren’t good at controlling them; so when anxiety hit you, your veins turned black and you froze everything around you.

Every vein in your body was noticeable, your eyes were white, and you were covered in ice.

Rhysand was probably disgusted by you.

“Azriel says you’ve been cooped up here since game night. Says you won’t open the door for him.” Rhysand stated as he looked around your room, blinking slowly as he took in all of your belongings being frozen.

“For him. But I opened the door for you,” you answered sheepishly.

“He let me know what happened… that night when he went to get you outside… I…” You put your hand up when he said those words.

“I know. I know. He doesn’t like me. I was stupid to complain about a sweater. I mean, my audacity, right?” You laughed dryly. Rhysand frowned, eyeing you— then eyeing your room.

With a snap of his fingers, your room was back to normal. “We’re going out to Rita’s tonight, join us,” Rhysand stated simply, and you were about to decline, but his stern gaze told you that it was a command— not a suggestion.

“I would much rather stay in,” you try anyways. Rhysand shakes his head. “So you could drown in ice and self pity? Get a grip, darling.”

You don’t admit that it hurts. It was not self pity, it was self hate, loathing. You ultimately nod, because you know he is not gonna let you just wallow in your sadness even though it’s all that you want. “Talk to him,” Rhysand said before winnowing away.

You scoffed at nothing. Absolutely not. If he rejected you, which you were sure he would, it would cause you more self hate than you could ever deal with.

You got ready that night in your usual attire. Glittering gowns with diamonds that resembled little snowflakes, reminiscent of your origins. You would look at the clock as you did your hair, and when ten pm rolled around and Azriel did not knock like every other night that week— your whole life was ruined.

At eleven you called for Rhysand in your mind so he could take you down to Rita’s and that he did, though the flight was silent. You were not very fond of him ordering you to hang out when you were miserable.

At Rita’s, you wanted to die.

Azriel was there, sitting silently next to Elain. And instantly your evil mind was hoping she got poisoned by the cocktail she was gently and elegantly sipping.

You truly were unlovable and unlikeable, huh?

You could feel those hazel eyes on you, though no shadows came to greet you. You did not dare meet his gaze because you were sure you would hurl ice all over the floor, so you rushed to find your High Lady and Mor who were chatting by the bar.

They greeted you happily, chatting you up over things you could care less about— because how could you focus when you could see everyone fawning over the shadowsinger in your peripheral vision. He was so magnetic to every fae that it was almost obnoxious.

Feyre started talking about the mating bond with Mor, indulging her in a debate about whether all mates were meant to be. All you could do was fantasize about you and Azriel, mismatched as you may be, surprising the whole court by being mates.

A fae can dream.

A male appeared out of the blue— a handsome male— and he asked you to dance. You indulged him. It was better than standing there pretending to care about Feyre and Mor’s conversation. You loved them, but your mind was elsewhere.

The male danced to the music, swaying along with you, his eyes focused on your white ones. “Shit… I can imagine you sucking my cock with those looking up at me… a perfect lesser fuck,” you gasped at his lewd words because, what the fuck?!

Your heart thudded and you smelled danger, so you gave him an awkward smile and stepped back from him, only for him to snake one strong arm around your waist, tugging you close. “I-Uh, have to go,” you chuckled nervously, looking around for your friends, though the sea of people dancing made it near impossible for you to see their usual booth.

“What does a little lesser like you have to do that is better than being with me?” He asked, leaning down to your ear, an act that sent shivers down your spine. Fear. Which was stupid because you were a spy for the Night Court, you could handle him.

Before you could even snap at him, his hand groped your behind, causing you to gasp and push him away— but in that moment he was stronger, so he tugged you right back to his bulky body. “Who do you think you are?” You scoffed at him, a snarl on your face.

“I’m taking you home tonight, lesser.”

“Over my dead body.” The man stumbled backwards as he looked over your shoulder, to the shadowsinger that had appeared between the crowd. Every fae in the room turned to look at Azriel, at the icy rage that surfaced on his perfect face. He parted the crowd as he stood there, his wings tucked tight as he glared at the High Fae that had been harassing you.

A comforting shadow slinked to you, wrapping around your icy wrist gently. Its gentleness was a stark contrast to the sheer anger it’s master exuded from his being.

“Fuck… I didn’t know… didn’t know she was yours, shadowsinger.”

“Now you know not to fucking touch my mate.”

Part Three

Author’s Note:

this definitely needs a part three i know

General Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

Series Taglist: @illiicits @dee-writes-smut @going-through-shit @saltedcoffeescotch @evergreenlark

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lesservillain · 1 year ago

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alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

cw: omegaverse dynamics, knotting, bonding/marking, breeding kink, unprotected piv, semi public, mutual pining

wc:~5.7k

Music plays at a low hum from the small radio at your desk. The only station that comes in clear has been taken over by Christmas music since Thanksgiving break. Not even Wham!’’s Last Christmas was giving the same sense of relief after hearing it every day for almost a month now.

Despite the winter wonderland outside, you still seek out the coolness of your water bottle against your skin, the chill helping to ease the flush that’s been making you sweat like it was mid July in Texas. You’d even cracked the window behind your desk in hopes that the fallen snow would help with your elevated body temperature. But you knew that all of your efforts were for nothing. That no matter how cold you made it, there was really only one thing that would actually be able to ease the discomfort that you felt spreading under your skin; the burden of being an omega in this world.

Ever since you split with your ex this past spring you’ve been having to deal with your heats on your own. It's not impossible for an omega to go through heats without an alpha to ease the pain, but when you go cold turkey after years of having someone there to satisfy the overwhelming biological need to mate, it can take a huge toll on any omega.

Science has made leaps and bounds over the last 20 years to improve suppressants for both alphas and omegas. They’re not perfect by any means, but they’re better than dealing with the intense urges that you feel when that time of the month comes.

The current suppressants you're taking are…experimental. Mixed with a birth control that’s supposed to be able to stop even the swimmers of an alpha in rut from reaching an egg of an omega they’ve marked. They were suggested by your doctor as a preventative, since omegas after losing their long alpha tend to subconsciously scent to seek out a replacement.

And they worked really well the first few months, not having a heat for nearly half a year. But the added stress of moving to a new town on your own and starting a new job where you were constantly playing catch up after inheriting a mess from the school’s previous nurse, your heat came back full swing within the first month of the school year. The dizziness, increased appetite, a dull ache in your lower back, and hot flashes put you out for three days before you could get a suppressant strong enough to make you functional again.

Now you’re having your winter heat, which, so far, has been much tamer by comparison thanks to the increased dose of your medication. But the combination of your heat with the influx of students seeing you due to peak flu and strep season, your body has been practically screaming at you by the end of each day this week to go home and relax.

The sudden overzealous opening of your office door takes your attention off your sweltering body. The all too familiar voice of Mr. Harrington calls out “Helloooo, nurse!” as he occupies the space in the doorway.

Steve Harrington was one of the school’s sophomore history teachers, as well as the football and basketball coach and the leader of the Student Achievement program. All of the staff, and probably some of the students, swoon over him at any given moment, his presence never missed due to the air that surrounds him. Unfortunately you’re not immune to his charms either. In fact, the natural attraction between the two of you was palpable at times, regardless of how much you try to ignore it.

Steve could feel it, too. And maybe it was the way his alpha brain was wired, but his flirty personality is jacked up to 10 whenever you’re around. It’s not on purpose, at least not in a conscious way. His amazing hair, the way his clothes hugged his toned body, and his almost unnaturally handsome face made him the poster child for the perfect alpha partner.

Well, perfect except for the fact that he’s the clumsiest man you’ve ever met in your life, leaving your office at least once a week with a Strawberry Shortcake bandaid after giving himself a paper cut or an ice pack on his head when a ball hits him in the face.

Despite his accident-prone nature, Steve is a highly desired, single alpha in his prime. And with you being the only unclaimed adult omega in the building, it’s put a huge target on your back for your jealous coworkers who think they have a shot with him. To remedy this, you’ve maintained a firm level of professionalism and platonic friendliness at all times with him, despite his flirty personality testing your willpower.

His intoxicating scent invades your senses sending a wave of warmth to wash over you before you can even give him a quick glance. You pull at the collar of your blouse willing the air to cool down your shirt. “You feeling okay there, nurse? You look a little flushed. Or are you just that happy to see me?”

“Mr.Harrington,” you say flatly, following with teasing sarcasm as you continue looking over your paperwork, “I was starting to worry you weren’t going to see me this week. Thought you’d finally broken your streak of bad luck.” He lets out an airy chuckle that makes the sides of your lips threaten to curl.

“Oh, honey, you know I can’t stay away from you.” He means it. He would fake appendicitis if it gave him a greater chance to be doted on by you. To get closer to you. “I would have been in here sooner if I hadn’t been glued to my desk all week getting grades in before break,” he says, voicing his grievances that were the result of his own negligence.

“I see,” you hum, continuing with the sarcastic tone. “I guess I won’t have to replenish my box of bandaids just yet.”

“Weelll,” he draws out, “All that sitting time must have built up my bad luck, because, uh, I think this one may need more than just a bandaid.”

When you finally lift your eyes from your desk, they almost bulge out of their sockets at the sight of him. Where you initially thought his arms were just crossed, you see his right hand is actually covering his left bicep, blood staining down the sleeve of his light and navy blue striped dress shirt. The lack of urgency in his tone had you thinking nothing was wrong, but of course Steve Harrington would find the time to flirt with you while he’s bleeding.

Tossing your water bottle on the desk and jumping up from your seat, you practically fly across the room to assess the damage, pulling his hand away to find a tear in the sleeve and blood spread messily on his skin underneath.

“Oh my goodness, what happened?” You ask with concern, pulling him into the office by the hand and leading him to a cot, shutting the door behind you.

“Mrs.Harmon asked if I could stay and help set up stuff around the auditorium for the choir performance tonight,” he explained as you pulled at the material of his sleeve, trying and failing and get a better look at the wound, “and I accidentally knocked a shelf off the wall while trying to get the decorations out. I moved fast enough that it didn’t crush me, but it did knick me a little.”

“A little! Mr.Harrington—” you start with a stern tone, preparing your normal lecture to him about being safe.

“Steve,” he corrects with a smug grin, insisting that you call him by his first name since you’ve met.

“Mr.Harrington,” you repeat like a warning, trying to remain professional when he’s so close to you. It’s hard when he’s staring at your face with those big hazel eyes as he watches your face scrunch in frustration while you fiddle with his shirt. A shirt that’s straining to stay together around his large bicep, leaving no give for you to get a better look at his wound.

Losing your will to argue with him, your hands rest to your hips with a sigh. “Can you, just, slip your arm out of the sleeve, please?”

“Of course,” he says with faux seriousness as you can see his all too satisfied smile, rolling your eyes at him.

Turning on your heel, you walk a few feet to grab the things from the supply cabinet to treat his wound. Your back is turned to him as you fill your arms with gauze, tape, cotton balls, and anything else you may need for a cut that large.

“You know, you’re probably the clumsiest alpha I’ve ever met,” you tease as you turn to face him again, “Sometimes I think you get hurt on purpose just to see m—“

The rest of your remark dies on your tongue as your mouth goes dry. Taking liberties with your request, you watch Mr.Harrington completely remove his shirt, dropping it on the cot behind him and facing you once more. The white under tank he’s wearing leaves little to the imagination as it hugs his broad chest tightly, thinning the material and making it almost see through. His skin still has the last lingering tint of the tan he was sporting on the first day of school, and different sized freckles and moles decorate his body like constellations in the sky. You’ve never seen so much of him all at once, head feeling fuzzy as you drink him in.

“I think you might be drooling a bit there, Ms. Nurse,” he says pointing to the corner of his own mouth to further his teasing. But you can barely hear him, the words muffled as your ears start to ring and your vision tilts as if you’d been drinking. The boil you’d been dealing with all day felt like a slight shimmer as your fever suddenly spikes, your body on fire as the scent coming from his newly exposed skin has you reeling.

The supplies you’re holding dropped to the floor, freeing your hands to grasp at the counter behind you. Steve rushes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and easing you to the ground. He barely makes it without dropping to his knees himself, the smell of your pheromones hitting him like a brick.

“H-hey, what do you need,” you hear him ask, but you can hardly register the words as his scent in close proximity only spurs your heat on more. Even with your clothes covering your skin, the touch of his hand on your waist and the one he’s rested on your knee make you crave more of him in a carnal way, the urgent need to close the gap between the two of you has your body shifting until you’re on your knees and crawling towards him.

His hands hover in the air, slightly trembling as you lean into him. He falls back on his ass as you get closer until you’re practically laying on him, rubbing against him with your face like a cat. “I need you, Steve,” you purr. He takes a sharp breath in through gritted teeth as your hand drifts lower, lower, until your fingers land on the very prominent bulge straining against his deep blue slacks. “Shit,” his head snaps back at the contact, before dropping back down to look at you with hungry eyes.

“What happened to keeping it professional?” He tries to joke, unsure if this is all just a test from the universe to see how he would react to having his nightly fantasies come true. And while Steve may be resilient in many ways, he wasn’t sure if he could hold back with the way you’re looking up at him through your lashes as if he’d hung the moon and the stars. The scent of his musk permeates the room as he gives into your needs, his desires, letting the primal urges he’s been pushing down since the day he met you front in his mind.

If you were in a different state of mind you probably would have laughed at his comment. But the intense ache that bloomed between your legs as all your senses start to leave your body has you whimpering against his chest.

Strong arms scoop you up swiftly, tossing you down on the cot and pulling the privacy curtain behind him. In the split second he was away from you, you managed to grab his discarded shirt and pull it to your nose, inhaling his lingering scent. It was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of, your thighs rubbing together and hips moving against air as your body seeks out any kind of relief for the ache.

Suddenly, the shirt is torn from your grasp roughly. You cry out, hands reaching out aimlessly before they’re being grasped tightly around the wrists and pinned to the bed. The cot dips as a weight wedges its way between your legs, pressing against your core in a way that has you instantly bucking against it with reckless abandon, your clouded mind only thinking about satisfying the throb in your core.

“God, look at the mess you’re making on my thigh already,” Steve says with a low growl, watching you use him in a pathetic attempt to relieve yourself. The grit in his voice hits every nerve in your body on its way from your ear drums to your cunt.

“You smell so fucking sweet,” he groans as he brings your wrist to his nose and inhales, “Like vanilla or honey, o-or something better,” he stammers. He leans over you, hot tongue licking a thick stripe from your collar bone to behind your ear, lightly biting the lobe and pulling, goosebumps rising on your skin. His hair is just as soft as you imagined it would be as it tickles your cheek, a sharp contrast to the way his teeth bite at your neck, his tongue soothing over the skin.

You press your cheek into him, whining his name right into his ear, practically begging him to put you out of your misery. He releases one of your hands to grab your face, lips pursing together, making you look him in the eyes. His pupils fully blown out and close enough that you can see your own fucked out reflection in them.

“Listen to me,” he says, swallowing, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this for five fucking months. Five long months of fucking my fist to the thought of getting you under me just like this, making you a mess and having you beg for me.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as the last bit of his resolve begins to waver. “So if we do this, you’re mine from now on, got it? No more of this back and forth, pretending you don’t want me as much as I want you bullshit. Once I start…I’m not going to be able to stop. Do you understand?”

There’s no hesitation with how quickly you try to nod your head against his grip. The heat coming off of your cheeks warms the tips of his fingers. “Nuh-uh,” he tuts, giving you a little shake, “Need to hear it. Tell me you want this.”

“Want you, Steve. Need you. Need your cock, please, please please.”

He curses under his breath before his lips crash into yours. The kiss is hot and heavy right off the bat as teeth clash and tongues dance together in desperation. Your free hand finds its way into his perfect hair, pulling slightly at the nape, eliciting a moan from him that you catch as it leaves his lips.

Steve pulls away from you with a wild look in his eyes. Both of his strong hands release their hold on you so that he could rip open the front of your blouse, sending buttons flying and hitting the floor with a clatter. His mouth is back on you, nipping and biting the skin while his hands pull your tits free from the cups of your bra.

Mouth moving at lightning speed, he hungrily takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and tonguing the bud while needing at your other breast with his hand. His eyes are glassy when they look up at you, half lidded and unfocused, drool dribbles down your breast from his mouth.

Everything next happens so quickly you can barely register it. Steve pulls away from you completely, standing up fully to rip your pants down your legs. Once he throws them to the floor, he’s making quick movements to undo his own pants, his right thigh drenched from the slick that had soaked through while grinding against him.

His cock is so hard that the pressure against the crotch of his pants has the zipper undoing itself once he frees the button. Wasting no time, he shucks down his slacks and boxers in one go, his large cock and heavy balls now on full display for you, the sight making your eyes widen in surprise—and maybe fear?

Alphas are known to be bigger than even a well endowed beta, and omegas are built to handle the size of an alpha’s better than a beta can, but the size of the Steve’s cock less than a foot from your face has you mesmerized at the sheer size of it. But while your mind may be in shock, your pussy has a mind of its own, slick dripping in anticipation for the stretch you’d be receiving. Even in his large hands it looked massive, bigger than any alpha you’d been with before.

You sit up in the bed slightly, reaching out to take him in your hand, your fingers barely able to wrap around him as you stroke the angry red tip. He curses under his breath as you let your hand roll over the tip, feeling the veins against the skin of your palm with each stroke.

A little bead of precum bubbles at the tip and something in your mind snaps. Your mouth is on him in an instant, any sense you may have had left is completely gone out the window when that salty taste hits your tongue.

“Fuck, look at you,” he cooes, followed by a guttural moan at the sight of you trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. “Such a good girl. Trying your best to take me in that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?” His words egg you as you continue to suckle at his tip, lapping up any of his spend that leaks out as you keep pumping at his shaft.

You want to keep going, want to be good for him, but ache between your legs is becoming unbearable the longer you go on. Slick is slipping down your thighs, a puddling forming under you on the sheets as your body involuntarily preps itself to take Steve’s massive cock. You look up at him with teary eyes, lifting your ass in the air as a silent plea for him to take you like the bitch in heat that you are.

And as much as he’s loving watching you pitifully mouth his cock, seeing you present yourself for him turns off the evolved parts of his brain, leaving him to run on primal instincts only.

Grabbing you by the throat, he manhandles you onto your back and positions you so your ass on the edge of the cot. Your legs fall to the sides, opening as wide as you can get them, pussy on full display and ready to be taken.

“Hoooooo, fuck,” Steve shudders, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt, hole clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill it up. He runs his fingers through your folds to collect some of your arousal, barely brushing over your throbbing clit. He brings his fingers to his mouth, shoulders slumping in satisfaction.

“Damnit, of course you taste sweet, too. Can’t wait til I can get you in my mouth,” he says with a slight slur.

You panic for a moment, unsure if you could wait any longer for him to finally be inside you. As if he can read you like a book, he lets out a soft chuckle, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it slowly. “Don’t you worry, baby girl, I’m not gonna keep you waiting any more. Next time, though…”

The sticky tip of his cock taps your clit, sending shock waves throughout your body with every touch. It’s too much and not enough all at once. His name falls from your lips, and he shushes you in return, lining himself up with your entrance.

The breach of his tip stretching you wide is like a shot of morphine in an IV drip, your body becoming numb and a live wire at the same time, replacing the pain with a fuzzy haze all over.

Steve watches the way your face contorts with pleasure as hips rock back and forth slowly. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying his hardest to hold back so you can get used to his size, but the vice grip you have on his cock has him quickly losing his resolve. Body falling over you, he brackets your head between his forearms as he finally folds. His breath fanning over your face has your eyes fluttering open. Met with the most divine visual of Steve’s pinched brow, scrunched up nose, and slack jaw fill your vision entirely. Your breath is punched from your lungs as he makes that final thrust, bottoming out inside of you with a shuddered whimper.

“Oh, my god,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, rubbing his face against your skin, marking you with his scent. He begins to move, setting a pace that makes every thrust feel like heaven, the tightness of your walls amplifying every ridge and bump of his cock as it drags back and forth. “Fuck, Steve, you’re so big,” you whine, “Never felt so full be-fore!” The last syllable comes out as a gasp as he thrusts into you hard, spurred on by your words.

His arms wrap around you tightly, laying all of his upper body weight against you to pin you in place so he can fuck into mercilessly. The feeling is mind melting, nonsense words mixed with repeating his name over and over fall from your mouth with each punch of his cock against your cervix. Each thrust hits that spot inside of you dead on, throttling you towards the edge quicker than your mind can handle in your current fucked out state.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve’s voice is strained next to your ear, thrusts slowing as you “Don’t squeeze so tight, baby, I don’t wanna cum yet.”

His words have the opposite effect on you as your whole body trembles beneath him, cumming so hard his cock your vision goes white. Your chest presses into his as your back arches off the mattress, the skin to skin friction against your hardened nipples stimulating you more as he fucks you through your high.

He lifts his head to watch you come undone with a wide eyed, feral look. He’s panting, too, with a string of saliva from his tongue to the skin of your shoulder where he had latched on, the skin red and already speckling with broken blood vessels.

“You’re so pretty when you cum on my cock like that,” he says with heavy breaths, “Wanna see you do it again, and again, and again,” he babbles, leaning in to trail kisses along your jaw, continuing to thrust into you harder and harder, in his own world now. You can only cling to him as he ruts into you, nails scratching down his back. “Gonna fuck you over and over and over until it takes. Big, round belly on full display for everyone to see. You gonna tell everyone Mr.Harrington got you pregnant when you can’t hide it anymore? What will all the other teachers think?”

“Fuck, Steve, please.”

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Want it, Steve. Want your knot.”

“Oh, is that right?”

Suddenly, he pulls away and out of you completely. It’s such a shock to the system you can help but cry out at the loss of him. But the vacancy doesn’t last long, his strong arms lifting and flipping you with ease until you’re face down into the mattress, ass being propped up on shaky legs so he can bottom out in you once more.

This new angle changed everything. A wanton moan feels like it was being pushed out of you as it felt like his cock was in your lungs. One hand grabs a hold of your hip while the other pushes down on the back of your neck, effectively pinning you down so he can pick back up his brutal pace. There was no rhythm to his thrusts, driven purely on animalistic instincts as he chases his own pleasure, using you as a means to get him there.

“You want my knot, huh?” The question is rhetorical, said in the heat of the moment as he feels his peak nearing. “Want me to give you my knot and really knock you up? I’ll ruin you for any other alphas that think they have a chance. Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, sweet girl? No other alpha’s gonnna fuck you like I can, right?”

“No-no, Steve! Don’t want anyone else! Only want your knot! Please, please!” Your eyes lull as he fucks you stupid, mouth parted open as you drool onto the sheets.

His weight shifts, trailing kisses down your back until he gets to that spot on the back of your neck. A chill runs down your spine as his teeth scrape against the skin over your scent gland. “Well, if that’s the case…Guess you wouldn’t mind if I held you to that, right?”

The primal part of your brain is screaming for him to do it; mark you and make you his, permanently. The logical side fights for dominance, reminding you that you never wanted to be owned by an alpha, which is why you and your ex broke up in the first place. But the way he was making you feel right now had you second guessing all your morals. He hums over you, lips lingering against your skin as he speaks.

Before you could answer, his hips were stilling inside you, the base of his cock swelling as he pumped you full with his spend. It would have been painful if it didn’t trigger the release of oxytocin in your body, making you cum with him. Your legs start to give out, but his hold on you tightens as his spend continues to spill into you., the His body shakes above you, chest heaving as tries to catch his breath.

The two of you take a moment to come down from your highs. The air around you feels electric as the two of you become one, his knot settling within your walls snuggly, the steady stream of Steve’s cum filling you to the brim until you couldn’t possibly take anymore. He rests his head over your scent gland, rubbing his face against it out of comfort while you still emit that sweet, sweet smell.

Everything feels right in the moment, until it’s interrupted by a knock and an intruding aroma. To you, it smells like smokey wood and cinnamon, but to Steve, it’s a threat. The smell of another alpha trying to get near his omega and claim her over him. You can feel his body tense up, breathing picking up in a panic, lips pressing against the skin as his mind races.

“Steve?” You say his name meekly. There’s a short pause between you, a split second before you feel it, his teeth clamping down on your skin. It’s like every nerve in your body lights up all at once. The sensation is powerful it makes you cum again, clamping down on Steve’s still hard cock buried inside of you. The moan he lets out against you is pornographic, teeth still clinging to your skin tightly as his saliva mixes with your body’s natural scent.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” The muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

“Get the fuck out of here, Eddie!” Steve yells out to the janitor, another alpha that you’d seen in passing, pinching your skin as he does his best to keep his teeth on you. It’s quiet for a moment, and you think that Eddie left until you hear a loud, booming laugh, and a faint “About damn time!” as the new smell starts to dissipate.

Steven feels your body jolt slightly beneath him and refocuses his attention on you. You do it again with an audible snort. At first he thinks you might be crying, guilt creeping in as he’s realized what he’s done to you. But as you get louder, it’s clear that you are actually laughing.

“Was tho funneh?” He asks, drooling down onto your back.

“I don’t know,” you say through fits of giggles. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Thounds like et,” he says, laughing along with you.

“Sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting any of this.” Your body shifts under him, growing uncomfortable in the position you were in. Steve senses this, releasing your skin and licking your wounds so that, with careful maneuvering, he’s able to get both of you comfortably on your sides. He wraps his arms and legs around you, holding you close to his strong chest, eyeing his handiwork of his mark as you rest your head on his arm.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” he says softly, kissing the back of your head. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I took things too far…But if I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t regret it.”

It could be the residual high from your heat, or the change in your brain chemistry from his mark, or just the fact that you’ve been pushing down how much you really wanted this with him from the moment your hands touched when you both went for the same bagel at the first staff meeting over the summer, but you couldn’t deny that you didn’t regret it either.

For so long you’ve been in denial, trying to ignore that he was the reason your suppressants stopped working because you wanted him so badly that your body was rejecting them when he was around. Denying how happy you get when he brings you coffee in the morning, or how much you look forward to when he sits with you during his lunch period to talk about whatever shenanigans his multitude of friends get into, or how the whole reason you started this heat was because he let you sit in the passenger seat of his BMW while he jumped your car after work on Tuesday, the inside smelling so overwhelmingly like him that you had to jump out and rush straight to your car before you ended up jumping him in the middle of the parking lot.

“Steve?” You request his attention just above a whisper, breaking the silence between you. He hums quizzically, resting his cheek against yours. “Did you really need to grade papers this week, or have you been avoiding me this week because you knew I was going through a heat?”

His cheek vibrates against yours as he chuckles from his throat. “You’re so smart, you know that, right?” He kisses your cheek before settling back with his head on the pillow, forehead resting against the back of your head.

As the two of you lay there you ask him a million questions, picking his brain to its fullest extent with this new closeness the two of you share. Really, you just like the sound of his voice, but he does say a few things here and there that make you belly laugh.

“Don’t do that,” he laughs along with you, “We’re never going to come undone if you keep squeezing me like that!”

“I can’t help it,” you wipe a tear from your eye, trying your hardest to suppress your giggles.

Thirty minutes pass and Steve’s knot finally goes down enough that he can pull out of you. It feels like a part of you is missing now that he’s no longer occupying you after so long. Hot, sticky cum pours from you like a storm drain onto the sheet below. With a sigh, you make a mental note to add new sheets on your list of things to replace, right under a new box of bandaids.

Oh, shit. Steve’s arm.

As he starts to gather the discarded clothes on the floor, you see that that blood has dried up and mostly rubbed off after everything. After the two of you redress, you wearing Steve’s button up after he made your blouse no longer wearable, not that you were complaining as the need to nest was starting to kick in, you cared for his wound. Just a cut left behind that would be okay with a little disinfecting and a few steristrips.

“You forgot the most important part,” he says with a shake of his head as you place the last strip on his arm. You tilt your head at him in confusion, a smile forming on his face as he looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

#steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington stranger things #teacher!steve harrington #teacher!steve harrington x nurse!reader

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inuyashaluver · 1 year ago

Note

Hello Bestie could you maybe write a Christmas fic with Maya or Leah?? Where player and reader are Christmas tree shopping and they end up kissing under a mistletoe

sneaky - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which you and your girlfriend go christmas tree shopping, you oblivious to her little plan in store for you

warnings: pure fluff, not even close to christmas but still cute, swearing

a/n: this is so cute are we kidding, do you know how hard it was for me to chose, i was dying lmao, enjoy bestie! ❤️ not me writing WAY past christmas

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, leah had alternative feelings towards christmas. you didn’t really mind it, whereas leah thought christmas was the best part of the year.

though, as the time progressed, you’d grown a love for christmas because of what it meant to leah, her happy smile the greatest gift of all.

over the four years that you and leah had been dating, you’d spent each christmas together, leah made it her personal mission to make your shared home a winter wonderland.

—

it was november 31st and you were both lying on the couch, the blonde resting comfortably on your body as you lay flat. her hands are planted under your back, buried into the warmth of your (her) hoodie as you both watch a movie.

her hands gently roam your warm skin as you both giggle along with the movie. when she hears you laugh, she looks up at you in adoration, taking in every little detail she could before you caught her. you were beautiful and she couldn’t take her eyes off you.

when you looked down slightly to investigate why leah had gone so quiet all of a sudden, you were shocked to see your girlfriend looking at you with a lovesick expression that made your heart beat rapidly. “hello” you breathe out with a little laugh.

she smiles bashfully when you make eye contact, moving to hide her face on your chest as you giggle at her affectionately.

you place a hand through her hair and she melts into you instantly, humming at the contact before placing gentle kisses on the base of neck.

after she avoids your gaze for about two minutes, she can’t help but look at you again, this time you were already looking at her and her breath caught in the back of her throat. you looked at her with so much love, she honestly couldn’t believe it.

“you’re so pretty” you whisper, leah shakes her head at you amusingly and moves up a little to be face to face, “you’re beautiful, my girl” each word brushes your lips as she smiles down at you.

she closes the gap between you to seal your lips in a kiss. it was tender, gentle and full of so much mutual adoration, it was sickeningly sweet.

that’s when you were broken apart by leah’s phone buzzing with an alarm. she excitedly gasps and kisses your lips repeatedly, relishing in the sounds of your melodious giggles that made her heart soar.

“it’s 12 o’clock” she gushed, moving to turn the alarm off before moving to kiss you again. you gasp against her lips as she deepens the kiss before she abruptly pulls away to hover over you, “do you know why i’m excited it’s 12 o’clock, baby?”

you shake your head at the girl’s words and she rolls her eyes, “for sleep?” you smile, training had kicked your ass today, mainly because leah was marking you the whole time.

“no, it’s december 1st!” she exclaims, kissing the tip of your nose with a bright grin. you knew what this meant and it made you smile.

“christmas shopping” you point out, making leah smile at you proudly. she appreciated how much you let her share the love of her favourite holiday.

she nods at you excitedly and squeezes you into an embrace, kissing your cheek before hoisting you up, carrying you towards the bedroom so you two could sleep before surely a stressful time for you and a happy time for leah.

—

you had woken up first for the day and had to pry yourself out of the warm embrace of your girlfriend to get up out of bed.

leah shortly after you woke up with a slight scowl at you not being in her arms when her eyes opened, making her pad around the house to search for you to see you bundled up on the couch scrolling on your phone.

“traitor” she grumbles, glaring at you slightly as you look up at her with a bright smile. “good morning, baby” you cheese out, she can’t help but smile a little and trudges over to you, planting her body on top of you as she sinks into your embrace. “good morning” she mumbles into the skin of your neck.

“someone’s not as excited as i thought she’d be, on the 1st of december too,” you tease, making the blonde shoot up in remembrance, “shit! i forgot!” her eyes are wide as she looks at you, quickly transforming into a look of excitement as she remembered what you’d be doing today.

“what are we waiting for? get up! get up!” leah ushers, dragging you off the couch and ignoring your protests of being cold as you both make it back to the bedroom.

you smile in amusement as leah sits you on the bed to pick out your clothes for the day, giving a satisfied smile as she holds the clothes up to your body.

she grins and gives you a quick kiss before forcing you to get changed. she rushes to get ready herself, running back to the living room to wait for you. not forgetting to complain that you were taking too long.

by the time you’d both made it into the car, leah’s hand would squeeze your thigh every couple of minutes to express her eagerness.

you’d both shopped for decorations and gifts for what felt like days but you wouldn’t utter a complaint at all, leah was so extremely happy despite it being such a stressful time that it eased your worries instantly.

you were happy to follow her like a lost puppy as she showed you a bunch of different items with a bright smile, agreeing with her instantly without a second thought.

it had reached later in the day, it was dark and was now the time where you and leah would go and get a tree after dropping all of your other items at home.

leah insisted you both needed to get a real tree for christmas every year because that’s what she was taught to do and you were happy to oblige.

when you both make it to the tree stall, leah rushes to open your door and laces your fingers excitedly as she pulls you along the hundreds of trees lined up to chose from.

though, what you didn’t notice was that leah was taking you along a specific path, you were unaware that she had spotted a mistletoe towards the far right of the area when you first entered and made it her mission to get you there and steal a kiss.

her cheeky smirk didn’t go unmissed by you as you both walked along looking at the trees and the pretty lights. “what are you up to?” you narrow your eyes at her as she tries to stifle a giggle when you were nearing the area where the mistletoe was.

“nothing, baby” she smiles down at you, kissing your cheek before dragging you off again.

you’d looked at so many trees, you were surprised leah hadn’t picked one yet as she’s usually quite quick. “you don’t like any of these?” you question, leah shakes her head at looks at you with a grin,

“the best ones are usually at the end” she shrugs, both of you walking, chatting and giggling. it was truly a wholesome experience for the two of you, something so sacred and special that you would treasure forever.

by the time you reached the last row, leah visibly perks up and increases her speed. you struggle to catch up with her excited steps before she suddenly stops and faces you.

she takes both of your hands in hers and gives them a gentle squeeze, smiling at you lovingly. “hi” leah smiles cheekily, pulling you forward slightly. “hi” you breathe out, looking at leah sheepishly.

“you look so beautiful” leah says in awe, pulling you closer again. you could tell she was up to something, by her cheeky smile and the way she kept pulling you closer every time she spoke but you weren’t complaining.

“you look very beautiful” you smile, “you also look sneaky, what’s going on?” she laughs at your words and shakes her head amusingly, you both knew when the other was up to something.

“hm” she hums with a laugh, her eyes flickering upward with a smirk. you follow her gaze and that’s when you see it, a mistletoe hung directly over you two. you keep your eyes on it and laugh, looking back at leah with a big smile.

you both giggle when you make eye contact and leah places her hands on your hips, pulling you closer until you were pressed up against each other gently. your arms instinctively wrap around her neck as you smiled at each other.

“mistletoe, huh? knew you were up to something” you smirk, leah chuckles and nods, “who are we to deny the rules of the mistletoe, baby?” leah scoffs, you nod and ghost your lips over hers. she bumps her nose with yours and you both giggle again before she closes the gap between the two of you.

it starts off soft and gentle before you take initiative and deepen it, carding a hand through her hair and gently grazing your nails on her scalp, prompting her to squeeze your hips in appreciation.

she quickly dominates the kiss as you both whine into each other’s mouths. when you both pull away absolutely breathless, she rests her forehead on yours, your breaths mingling as you smile with each other.

you pull away slightly to make eye contact, “you know, we’re still under the mistletoe” you whisper, she laughs brightly at you and smiles with a nod, “mhm, we are” she looks up at it for a moment before looking back down at you,

“who are we to deny the rules of the mistletoe? huh, leah baby?” you quip, leah nods gently before pulling you into another breathless kiss, lasting a couple of seconds before pulling away.

“the tree?” you smirk, leah nods before grabbing your hand again, lacing them together as you walked. “i already know what tree i want” leah chuckles, taking you to the very first row of trees, pointing out the third one.

you can’t help but laugh brightly, you knew her too well, of course she set her heart on one of the first trees she saw but dragged you all the way to the mistletoe.

—

you both get home and set up the tree, decorating it together under leah’s very careful and specific instructions. the house is warm and full of love, fairy lights providing light as you both laugh and chat while decorating.

once done, you both pull away satisfied, leah tucking you into her side as you both look at the decorated tree.

“it might be our best tree yet, my girl” leah chuckles, kissing your temple as you lean into her. “why? because you dragged me around 10 different isles of trees just to kiss me and then took me all the way back to pick this one?” you recount cheekily, leah nods with a giggle.

“exactly” she grins, “not like you were complaining” leah bumps your hip with hers and you laugh, leaning up to kiss her cheek, making a light pink dust the skin there.

“no, i’m not, in fact..” you start, pulling out a small mistletoe from your pocket to hold it up over your heads. leah raises her eyebrows before she throws her head back in a laugh, “well, who are we to deny the rules?” she smirks, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you in a searing kiss, your hands dropping the mistletoe in the purpose.

it was a good christmas already.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by liawaelti and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: me and my girl put up the christmas tree, favourite time of the year!

view all comments

yourname: leah did the whole thing

↳ leahwilliamsonn: baby! no, we did it together!

↳ yourname: leah, my love, you told me where to put each and every ornament, i don’t know if it counts

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you still put it on with your pretty hands

↳ yourname: mhm

↳ leahwilliamsonn: meet me under the mistletoe in 5 minutes?

↳ yourname: sold

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

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6feathered6siren6 · 6 months ago

Text

Matching Skin(Ronin x V X Reader)

Notes: For the prompt soulmates. I struggled getting this one out but I hope you enjoy it!

────୨ৎ────

Soulmates.

You heard tales from your parents and everyone around, the moment you turned 18, words would be written on your skin. Ones from your soulmate.

And that you can reply back.

You always thought you won’t get one, relationships in your life were bitter and messy. You figured, it was not for you. You weren’t a good partner, maybe, not a good soulmate.

And the moment's countdown, you were about 18 in 2 minutes. Would they write something? Like do both of you turn 18 on the same day? Or was it a feeling?

Only a minute awaits, you stare at the clock as it ticks. It was getting closer and closer. You, somehow, feel hope. Can it be true that you love someone? A soulmate?

DING! DING!

Your father’s grandfather clock alarms you from your mindset. You run to your bathroom and look in the mirror. The hope, the anticipation… turned… sour. Maybe later? Maybe when your birthday is done. Right?

Your parents said it happened just on their birthday, maybe it happens at noon or… something…

જ⁀➴ ♡

It was a week after your birthday, no letter, no word. Nothing was on your skin.

🖇

It’s been a year. 19. Not a trace of a letter. You honestly gave up. There are tales when a soulmate died before they turned 18. Maybe… you were an unlucky person with a dead soulmate. You just allowed it to happen, allow the other to write to you.

And got nothing.

➤─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You’re 23 now. A lost soulmate, a term of the people who lost their soulmate. Sure, your life was missing romantic love, but you had everything you needed. A job you loved doing, friends who didn’t care about soulmates or even dating.

You were having another day, got off of work, ate some dinner with a coworker, then on the way home. For some reason, you feel really positive. You could hear the crunch in the leaves. It is autumn now. You enjoyed the cooler air instead of the blazing heat or the icy winter wonderland. You could smell the cinnamon from the coffee shop you just passed. You saw the flowers blooming inside the flower shop. You were fond of the red roses this time around. Not the cyclamen or marigolds.

Your night was going amazing in your opinion. Until… you were about to take a shower. When you saw your skin, a message.

‘Fuck you, R.’ in a dark green ink, then a weirdly drawn middle finger in dark red ink. You… you had a soulmate, and didn’t know until now.

How?!

You watch as another message appears, in the same dark green pen, ‘You are so childish.’

You had two.

You felt your hand go through your hair. How? How did you miss it? How did you not see their messages? How did you miss it?

When you thought about it, you never looked much at your body, not on your skin. You were afraid of it. The reality about it… And now… you didn’t have one… you had two. One you knew a letter about, ‘R’.

But then you realized… you basically ignored them… you couldn’t just invite yourself in. They only think they have each other. You… didn’t want to bother them.

You took a shower with a mindset in mind. You weren’t gonna contact them. Not now or ever… you couldn’t. Not after ignoring your own skin.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You were researching for soulmates before your passion project. 3 soulmates linked. Well, from everything you can find, it is possible, there are traces of them even before the research of soulmates became of matter.

Looking back at your arm, it seems the owner of the green ink washed it off to write another message, ‘Don’t be irrational, or I will catch you.’

Catch you? Are they playing some kind of game? Tag? You rolled your eyes, leaving soulmates for another day, covering your arm with your sleeve. Maybe working on your novel can get your mind away from it.

๋࣭ ⭑⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆๋࣭ ⭑

It was December, you somehow joined a server of killers. Cool… kinda… if you aren’t fearing them killing you… But surprisingly, two catches your eye, K9 and goreboy. You didn’t know what was up with it, but… you actually caught feelings. Maybe… you can fall in love with someone who isn’t your soulmates.

Sure, V thinks you’re a killer and Ronin thinks you’re not. But it brings you ideas. A lost soulmate in love with a pair, a soulmate duo. But the duo are killers on the opposite side of justice. 3 opposite people from each other but complement each other well.

You remember when Misaki pulled you into a voice call, telling you some of the server history and how it is. Ronin and V have this tension to them, that people think they might be dating, but no one knows. Angel maybe but to them, that's a story for you to find out.

It was after Vince’s christmas dinner, you pondered as Ronin invited you to a video call. It was near 1 in the morning, you were doing some late night writing. So what would he want now?

“Staying up so late, Darlin’?” His arms were behind his head. His smile was wide as well. A grin. You nod as you stretch, “Yeah, working on something.” You yawned as you grabbed your drink nearby. “Why are you up this late? Killing someone, Ronin?”

“Nah, just was pissing off V, thought it would be your turn now.” You see his chair turning back and forth on his video.

“How generous. I feel the love radiating off of you.” You snarked back.

“Y’know it.” He snickered. “So got a question for you, Mx. enigma.”

You raised your eyebrow as you rested your head into your hands. “And that is?”

“V wants you to hang out with us, so would you join our game?” His grin of mischief was on. Your stomach twisted as your heart seemed to flutter. “It would be fun for us.”

You looked at the time, you aren’t working tomorrow so it should be fine. “Alright. I’ll join.”

“Sweet, Darlin’, one moment and we killin’ tonight.” He said before he ended the video call. You rolled your eyes as you smiled. Classic Ronin.

Waiting for the male now, you got back to your other tab, your novel. You paused wanting to take a break from it and go back to your ‘other side project’.

Soulmates. Sure, you’re never gonna interact with them, the ones with skin that are in sync with yours. Like you don’t want to harm the other two, it is your fault about this… And you like Ronin and V, nothing more.

Looking into a website a friend recommended to you, a detail spoke loudly to you. ‘Soulmates and fate are intertwined, you will see or meet your soulmate sometime in your life. You might never know. Even then, it’s been recorded that soulmates knew each other but never knew they were soulmates.’

You, V, and Ronin soulmates? You smiled as you shook your head. That’s a fucking joke to you. Yeah, right.

The iconic ‘ping!’ alarms you out of your thoughts.

goreboy: in Vc

goreboy: hurry Up he’s started to Monologue Again

Making you laugh, it means V is ranting at Ronin’s murders again and how he is gonna capture him. You might have to save Ronin from boredom.

Entering the call, you hear V’s rant. You stayed quiet listening in for a few moments, and the moment he paused. Ronin finally spoke up, “Welcome to the shitshow, Darlin’”

“Hey, so what are the both of you doing up so late?”

“Well, I was pissing off V again and he-” Ronin was interrupted by V.

“Annoying me with his murders, actually. And trying to tell him that he shouldn’t kill almost everyone he meets.” V sounded tired of dealing with Ronin alone. A bit of dark red caught your eye. ‘R’ was writing something again.

‘y’know you Love me’

You covered your arm with your sleeve. You didn’t want a reminder as you talk to these two. “Sounds like a night for the both of you…” You tried to mask that something was wrong and somehow, you succeeded. They didn’t catch it.

“A stressful night, but how is your evening, Reader? Hopefully better than mine.” Which makes you snicker.

“I’m good, just working on a passion project.”

The rest of the night went smoothly, spending an hour talking to them, ranging in topics of murder to seeing Ronin and V fighting again. You are starting to understand why Misaki said about their tension. And now even you are questioning if they are dating.

Well, after leaving the call, you see another message but in green now. ‘Why do this to them, R? They don’t seem interested.’

‘Don’t worry your pretty little detective brain, you’ll see.’ Red.

Something must have happened to get Green to question R, did R get into a fight again? Green does get lengthy on them when they do.

Sighing, you wanted to pick up a pen, but you still couldn’t do that to them. You looked out of the window and saw the stars. Wishing life was easier.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

February. The month of love. Usually, you were able to ignore, like you didn’t know that you have 2 soulmates. Now… it’s just worse. Feeling like water is filling up in a room with you locked inside. Deciding to not wallow in your place, you took a walk while it was night. It was calming and you really needed it. Fresh air and calmness was what you needed. The street lights brightened your way as you walked. Peaceful, not much sounds other than the cars passing by.

Reaching upon a ledge with railing, leaning on it, you stare at the view. Looking at the stars above you again, it looked pretty. If you didn’t mess up, would this be different?

“Reader? Is that you?” You know that voice. You turn your head and see V. Was he hunting?

“Yeah, it’s me.” You looked back to the view. You didn’t want to talk to him. It was near midnight, and tomorrow was Valentine's Day. You didn’t want to take another’s soulmate away from them.

“Why are you out this late? Thought you would be at home with that project of yours.” He seems to walk closer and look at what you were looking for a moment. Then he looks back at you.

“Needed a break and fresh air…” You paused, you also needed to get away from the place you felt trapped at.

“I see. Well, I hope you are fine with me keeping you company.” He walked a bit away and sat on the bench just a few steps away. You looked at him again before taking his lead and sat next to him. It was quiet, but the air was filled with a soft atmosphere. Relaxing even. “You know Reader, Ronin was worried for you. I am as well.”

You stilled before whipping your head to look at him with a shocked look. Blinking a couple times, you didn’t know what to say.

It leaves V chuckling, “Both Ronin and I care about you. Ronin has his own way of showing it. Bloody at times as well. But you haven’t spoken in the server in a while. And you skipped the last two mafia games, it doesn’t feel fun without you.”

You stared at him then smiled. A couple soundless laughs left your mouth. “I… I wasn’t feeling well and needed to be myself for a while.”

V was about to speak again when, “There was a party and I wasn’t invited? How rude of you?” It was the self-claimed devil himself.

“Thank you for ruining a moment, Ronin.” V looked annoyed as Ronin leaned onto the back of the bench, looking down at you. He had his iconic smile.

“You are very welcome. Now, Darlin’, it’s nice to see you, flesh and bones.” V sighed as rolled his eyes. He was shaking his head with annoyance.

“Nice seeing you both. In person and not on a screen, I mean.” You continued to have a smile on your face. It felt like this was right. To be with both of them. You tuned out the mini argument, looking back at the night sky. Ignoring that righteous feeling, you look back at the males bickering or flirting. You still didn’t know but… you wanted to stay with them.

Ronin, jumping over the back of the bench to sit between you and V. Putting arms around the both of you and V. “Now, let’s have a real party, a murder party.”

You guys didn’t murder anyone, all you guys did was walk around talking. And by the time you got home, you just wanted to go back and talk to them. They have different soulmates, that soulmate was not you.

You really need to stop on this soulmate bullshit…

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You woke up and it was 5 hours before Valentine's day was over. You were on your bed, just staring at your computer. Do you want to talk to the group? Or to just stay away again?

Looking at your arm, there was a message. A place and time. In red. And dread fills in.

‘Done waiting for this K

Other soulmate, come to this (place) at midnight. I’m done waiting for you to write something.’

They knew. How?

Do you.. go.?

Looking out at the night sky, you like Ronin and V. You like V with his acts of kindness and making sure you are fine, how he can keep you calm as well. Ronin is a man who creates chaos, making anything fun. Keeping you guessing when V was in the call as well.

You made a decision.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Walking to the location, it was near one of your favorite cafes. You grabbed drinks there on Valentines with V and Ronin. V paid for all three of your drinks, and Ronin made sure to keep your mouth shut when he did. Only to solidify your decision.

“Darlin’? Walking around at night again?” Turning your head and you saw it was Ronin. He wasn’t wearing his iconic jacket. You could see the words that matched your own. You felt your heart drop. Your eyes blurred as you felt your body tense up. “Darlin’?” You felt hands on your arms, holding you up, it felt like they were burning you.

“I… F- fuck…” Your words weren’t even above a whisper. “You’re my…” You looked up at the male in front of you. You released a breath as you spoke. “You’re my soulmate.”

Ronin snorted before laughing. “Took you this long to realize it? Thought you were playing games with us.” He moved a bit to show V was nearby.

“You both knew…” You felt like throwing up, all the hints were there.

“And we thought you knew as well, and thought you prefer not to write on your skin. We did try reaching out before you joined the server but never got a response from you. We first thought you died, but then we randomly got ink on our arms. Neither one of us caused it, and we knew.”

“And found out it was you on a video call. My video call, Darlin’.” V rolled his eyes as he looked at you with that similar gaze from earlier.

“You… are my soulmates. And you’re not mad?” You started. “I ignored it, I ignored my skin, ignored the messages. I…”

“You most likely have a reason. And that could be talked about later, but Ronin here wants to take you out for dinner, and I agreed after losing a game with him. So please indulge him.”

Ronin lets you go, as you could stand by yourself, to put his arm around V’s shoulder. “Like you also didn’t want to do this. Now, let's grab some food. I am starving.”

You stared at your soulmates, before smiling. You were gonna tell your soulmates that you liked someone else. But you didn’t have to. V grabbed your hand and started pulling you as they walked. Maybe this soulmate thing wasn’t a lie. It was fate, and you were definitely played with.

#killer chat #killer chat game #killer chat v #ronin killer chat #killerchat #killer chat ronin #ronin beaufort #ronin x reader #v x reader #killer chat v x reader #V x Ronin #V x Ronin X Reader

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mapsthewanderer · 4 months ago

Text

Caleb’s headcanon -

The Vanguard

Synopsis: It’s been a handful of weeks since the lanterns lit the sky, since whispered wishes melted into the night. You’ve spent the last couple of days in the Arctic with Dr. Zayne, chasing down another lead. Exhausted and buried in work, (which wasn’t exactly your wish for the new year), you’ve finally booked yourself a much-needed retreat for the night. But just as you’re on your way to unwind, you unexpectedly run into Caleb.

Details: Long 3000ish w. A lil role for Dr. Zayne (lol I just had to). Yearning losers. Fluff. Banter. And Caleb. Lots of Caleb. Caleb being Caleb as in always being around the MC. Some unresolved emotions. Roleplay. And as always: Rrrromance. (We just getting started peepz)

The Yearning: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290

Onsen mist | Chapter I

The research facility hums with quiet energy, the rhythmic clatter of keyboards filling the space like an ever-present pulse. The sterile glow of the overhead lights casts sharp contrasts against the frost-rimmed windows, beyond which the Arctic night stretches vast and endless, a deep indigo canvas dusted with soft, falling snow.

Dr. Zayne is exactly where he’s been for the past several hours—seated at his workstation, fingers flying over the keyboard, sharp eyes flicking between lines of data cascading across the screen. The soft glow from the monitors reflects off his glasses, making his expression unreadable, though you know him well enough to guess he’s lost in the depths of his analysis.

You stretch, rolling your shoulders to shake off the tension of the day. “That’s enough for tonight,” you say, half-command, half-exasperation. “Even you need rest, Zayne.”

A grunt. A slight adjustment of his glasses. More typing.

You sigh, shifting your weight onto one hip. “You’ll burn out before we crack this, you know. Turn into one of those conspiracy theorists who forgets how to blink.”

That earns you a glance—brief, unimpressed, but tinged with something vaguely amused. “Good night,” he says simply, already half-immersed in his work again.

You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Another grunt. Another hint of movement as he continues typing. Shaking your head, you shoulder your backpack, pull on your mittens, and adjust your woolen hat, tugging it snug over your ears before stepping outside.

The Arctic air slams into you, crisp and bracing. Any lingering warmth from the facility vanishes instantly, replaced by the sting of winter against your skin. The world outside is a quiet, frozen wonderland—snowflakes drifting lazily through the air, catching the light from the facility’s windows like scattered diamonds.

The last few days have been relentless—long hours of research, chasing leads, pushing closer to answers that still dance just out of reach. And while the pursuit has been thrilling, it’s also drained you. Your muscles ache from too many hours hunched over data, your mind is a tangled mess of theories and possibilities.

That’s why you booked the onsen.

A smile spreads across your face as you descend the steps, humming softly to yourself. You can already picture it—the warm water enveloping you, steam curling into the frozen night air, your entire body sinking into a state of perfect relaxation.

Maybe even cucumbers on your eyelids, if you’re feeling extra indulgent. Yes. Perfect.

Thrilled by the anticipation, you instinctively grab your phone, eager to share your excitement with Caleb and keep him in the loop. Without hesitation, you type out a quick message.

You: Just finished work. On my way to the onsen now. If I don’t resurface, assume I’ve melted into bliss.

Your thumb linger over the screen for a second, a small smile tugging at your lips. You had messaged him earlier about this, gushing about the outdoor onsen you found, about how perfect it sounded.

You: You won’t believe what I just found! An actual outdoor onsen in the middle of nowhere. Hot water, steam, cold air… perfection. Booked a late-night soak. I need this so bad.

Had he even answered?

Frowning slightly, you pull your other mitten off with your teeth, thumb hovering over your messages as you step into the snow-covered path leading away from the facility. But before you can check—

Leaning casually against the wall just beyond the entrance, arms folded over his chest, is Caleb.

Your stomach lurches, your entire body going still in the freezing night air.

Wrapped in sleek athletic winter gear, his fitted turtleneck clings to his frame beneath an open, puffy winter jacket, the fabric shifting slightly with the easy rise and fall of his breath. His dog tag, ever-present, hangs just below the collar, catching the faint light as it sways with his movements.

Snow-dusted pants, built for movement, hug his legs, and his boots are planted firmly in the powder beneath him. Ashen-brown bangs are flecked with snow, strands falling loose beneath a broad, warm headband. Ski goggles sit atop his head, their lenses reflecting the facility’s dim lights like twin mirrors.

And his eyes. Those impossible violet irises gleam with cheekiness as they lock onto yours, filled with a teasing spark. A calculated glint.

Next to him, propped against the wall, are a pair of downhill skis—fitting, considering the way your mental state is also currently plummeting at an alarming speed.

Caleb flicks his phone into the air, catches it effortlessly, and, without the slightest hesitation, reads aloud in a smooth, amused tone, “On my way to the onsen now. If I don’t resurface, assume I’ve melted into bliss.”

He glances up at you, violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Melted into bliss?” he echoes, tilting his head as if considering it. Then he smirks, tucking the phone away. “Nah, can’t have my Pip-squeak dissolving into oblivion without me. Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly.”

Caleb steps closer, the cold air curling between you. “Sooo… Figured I’d join in—purely for your safety, of course.”

Your breath stutters. “Uh—”

Your brain has completely short-circuited. Between the overwhelming presence of him, the ridiculous way he just happens to be here, and the nickname—Pip-squeak—the one only he calls you, always, no matter the situation, like it’s your actual name rather than just something he made up. And now, with that smug edge in his voice and the absolute audacity to hijack your private relaxation like it was his all along, it’s enough to send your thoughts scattering into the cold air like the snowflakes around you.

His smirk lingers, that damnably confident curve of his lips. “I promise I won’t get in the way. The onsen’s big enough for the both of us, right?”

And before you can even process the situation enough to say anything more than a bewildered ‘uh,’ he lifts a gloved hand.

Between his fingers—

An identical ticket to the one sitting in your coat pocket.

——————————————————————————

The Arctic night yawns wide and silent around you, a world blanketed in snow and soft moonlight. The only sound is the steady crunch of your boots against the packed frost, your breath curling in delicate silver clouds before vanishing into the dark. Snowflakes descend in slow, lazy spirals, catching in your lashes, clinging to the fur lining of your coat. The cold is sharp, invigorating—but not unpleasant.

Not with him beside you. Yet, a thought lingers—

The last time you were in the Arctic, you hadn’t felt this kind of warmth beside you. No steady presence in the cold.

That absence is something you haven’t let yourself dwell on. Not really. But now, with Caleb walking next to you, solid and real, the contrast is impossible to ignore.

“You didn’t mention you were coming out here.”

Your voice is even, casual, but the words hang in the space between you—lingering, testing.

Caleb shifts the skis on his shoulder, adjusting their weight with practiced ease. The motion is smooth, effortless—just like his timing.

“Figured I’d pick up an old winter hobby—kill some time while you worked.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. Of course he did. Caleb has always done this. Appeared. Slipped into your orbit like he was always meant to be there, whether you had invited him or not.

Unshakable. Inevitable.

The thought lingers as the two of you walk, his presence a quiet heat against the Arctic cold. Even through layers of wool and winter gear, he radiates warmth—a constant, steady ember against the frozen world around you.

A gust moves between you both, crisp and cutting, but the silence is sharper.

Then, after a beat, Caleb’s voice slips through the cold, smooth and low—deceptively easy.

“Been a while since we’ve done this.”

A statement. Not a question. As if he has any right to say it—to claim that time, that absence, like it was just a minor inconvenience.

Caleb was supposed to be constant. The one thing in your life that never drifted, never disappeared. And then he was gone. No warning, no goodbye, just a hollow space where he used to be—a space you had to carry alone.

You don’t say it. But you think it. And it stings.

And now he walks beside you like he never left. Like the space between then and now is nothing more than a fortnight passed.

The worst part? Sometimes… it feels that way.

How Caleb came over at New Year’s with that knowing smirk, like he had every right to be there. How he settled onto your couch, arms draped over the back, watching you with lazy amusement as you practiced your drawing skills on him. How he tilted his head just so, baring the line of his throat for you, letting you sketch the curve of his neck with slow, careful strokes. How you let him stay.

The feeling rises too fast, sharp and jagged—caught between the ache and the quiet betrayal. One part of you still can’t forgive him for making you mourn him; the other aches to let it go, to pull him even closer.

And because you don’t know what to do with all of it—

You do the most logical thing.

You lunge for the snow, scoop up a handful, and—without hesitation—shove it straight into his face.

A satisfying crunch. A sharp inhale.

For the first time all evening, Caleb is the one caught off guard.

He jerks back, shoulders tensing, breath sucking in sharply as the freezing snow collides with his skin, clings to his cheekbones, melts against the heat of him. His lashes are dusted white, his hair flecked with frost, his lips parted in surprise.

For one perfect moment, he is stunned.

And then—

Caleb relaxes his shoulders. He exhales slow, deliberate, and tilts his head, smiling.

Not just any smile. That smile.

The one that always, always means trouble.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Pips.”

Before you can even get a second step in, he’s already moving, his speed unfair, his reflexes honed from years of training. His gloved hand catches your wrist in a firm but gentle grip, spinning you back toward him. The world tilts as you stumble into his chest, and suddenly, he’s right there, looming over you. Close.

In that closeness, his grip around your wrists tightens—not rough, but firm. As if he’s grounding himself as much as holding you there, unwilling to let go. Snowflakes cling to his dark lashes, melting against his skin, and his violet eyes shimmer—something unreadable flickering beneath the weight of his gaze. His breath curls between you, a whisper of warmth against the cold, dissolving into the space where neither of you move.

The playful spark in his gaze dims for a fraction of a second, something raw slipping through the cracks of his carefully maintained composure. His eyes drop—to your lips, to the small space between you, to possibility.

You don’t think. You don’t question. You just rise onto your toes, closing the distance, pressing the lightest, barest kiss against the corner of his mouth.

It’s fleeting, barely there—but it shatters something.

Caleb stills. Completely.

For the second time that evening, you catch him off guard.

His grip on your wrist loosens, but he doesn’t pull away, his breath warm against your cheek, his exhale slow, measured—like he’s trying to process what just happened. And then, finally, he blinks, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips—but it’s not his usual one. It’s softer, warmer, something almost reverent.

But instead of saying anything helpful, he only murmurs, “You are so, so unfair.”

And then—he lets go.

You step back, suddenly reeling, suddenly aware of what you just did. But Caleb only chuckles, shaking his head—like he’s already committing this moment to memory, already tucking it away where he keeps the things he’ll never forget.

——————————————————————————

The warm glow of lanterns spills over the snow-dusted entrance of the onsen, casting golden reflections onto the smooth wooden floors. The air shifts the moment you step inside—the biting Arctic cold left behind, replaced with the scent of cedar, damp heat curling through the hallways.

Caleb steps in after you, pulling the door shut behind him, and for a moment, there’s just silence—the kind that makes your skin prickle, makes you hyper-aware of every movement, every shift in the air between you.

The receptionist greets you with a warm smile, bowing slightly as she gestures toward the entrance hall, lined with low wooden benches for guests to remove their shoes and outer layers. You move first—because moving is easier than thinking.

Your fingers feel almost clumsy as you tug at your gloves, slipping them off one by one before reaching for your coat. The layers are heavy, the fabric thick with frost from the journey here. Caleb doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him watching as you unwind your scarf, pulling it free from where it had been tucked against your collar.

You steal a glance at him—just a quick, fleeting thing—but it’s enough.

His gaze flicks back to yours, and the corner of his lips quirks. And tose impossible violet orbs stay on you—like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, like he’s giving you the chance to acknowledge it.

You sit down, fingers moving automatically to unlace your boots, the motion practiced, steady—your silent answer. But your heart hasn’t settled. It’s still thrumming, still caught in the moment where your lips brushed against his, a fleeting, chaste outburst of weakness you refuse to address.

Boots off. Thick socks peeled away. You tuck them neatly beside your belongings before standing, pressing your hands against the smooth wood of the bench to ground yourself. Caleb mirrors you without hesitation, toeing off his boots in a fluid motion, rolling his shoulders like shedding the layers makes him lighter.

Like he’s comfortable here, comfortable with you—settling back into a space that was always his, as if time never carved him out of it.

And just as you start to turn away, he moves closer, a whisper of contact trailing behind him. His hand skims against your waist, featherlight but intentional.

A question, a test. Then comes the softest press—barely a kiss, nothing more than the warmth of him against the shell of your ear.

“So… are we pretending that didn’t just happen, or should I act accordingly?” he murmurs, voice low, edged with something dangerous and knowing.

Your breath hitches—a fraction, almost imperceptible.

And then—he steps away.

As if nothing happened.

As if the tension humming between you is nothing but steam in the air, waiting to dissipate.

The receptionist returns, all polite enthusiasm, bowing as she welcomes you both. And just like that, the moment is swallowed up, tucked neatly away under the weight of formality.

“Welcome,” she beams. “Ah, and what a lovely couple!”

Your brain short-circuits.

You open your mouth—to politely protest, to correct her—but Caleb, damn him, is faster.

His hands find your waist again, like a tide returning to shore—inevitable, familiar, unhurried.

“Appreciate it,” he tells her smoothly. “She booked us something nice, didn’t she?”

The receptionist nods eagerly, already convinced. “Oh, of course! You’re both in for a wonderful experience.”

Caleb leans in just enough—his voice low against your ear, smug as hell.

“Don’t look so shocked, Pips. It’s not like we haven’t had practice.” Caleb smirks, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Who knows? If we keep this up, maybe they’ll knock a little off the bill.”

And you hate that he’s right. Because you’ve done this before—played pretend, slipped into roles without thinking.

In high school, when Caleb needed a buffer from whatever girl had decided she was in love with him that week. In college, when he’d throw an arm around you at parties to keep unwanted attention off you.

It had always been easy, effortless.

And if it ever meant securing a couple’s discount at the cinema, neither of you had ever hesitated to lean into the act—his arm draped lazily over your shoulders, your head tucked against his chest, the cashier none the wiser.

The receptionist furrows her brows slightly as she scans the reservation details again.

“Oh! It looks like there was a mix-up in the system.” She tilts her head, flipping through the records. “You both had individual reservations for the public onsen with single rooms, but it should have been processed as a couple’s booking. That must have been an error on our end—our IT system has been acting up all week!”

You stiffen. Caleb, meanwhile, looks entirely composed.

The receptionist claps her hands together, beaming. “No worries, though! We just had a last-minute cancellation on our most exquisite suite—the only room available that accommodates two guests. Since the issue was on our end, we’ll upgrade you both at no extra charge!”

Her smile turns even more delighted. “Oh, and what perfect timing! I just love seeing young love.”

Caleb hums in approval, clearly entertained.

“Hear that, Pips?” He tilts his head toward you, his grip at your waist tightening ever so slightly. “She loves young love.”

You stomp on his foot.

At least, you try to.

Caleb moves before impact, smoothly adjusting his stance, unshaken, and laughs under his breath.

“How generous,” you manage, forcing a strained, polite smile.

Caleb’s grin widens. He leans in just enough—just to you, just to press his voice into your ear.

“Maybe we’ll get champagne too if you hold my hand.”

You consider shoving him into the koi pond at the entrance.

But the receptionist is already gesturing down the hall, giving you an enthusiastic rundown of the suite’s luxurious amenities. Caleb doesn’t move his arm from your waist. He doesn’t have to—because whether you realize it or not, you’re already leaning into him, already falling into place.

This is a game you’ve played before—played so well, for so long. But something about it feels different this time. When you finally glance up at him—when his violet eyes flick down to meet yours—you swear he isn’t pretending.

And the worst part? Neither are you.

Chapter II

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Part one of the series, yay! Peepz we’re looking at a slow burn, but I hope it’s as enjoyable for you as it is to me. I just love writing their dynamics, simpsimp. Okey then, thank you for reading pt1 🫶🏻

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 months ago

Text

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part VII/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, death, gore, religious themes (blink and you'll miss it)

A/N: woah look at that. We made it to D-Day. I thought I'd leave this on hiatus before reaching this point BUT I DIDN'T. This one's a little longer but I don't care and neither do you. If you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know and enjoy<3

GIF credit

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

READER'S P. O. V.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come; thy…

Thy…

"Fuck."

The cuss got lost in the deafening racket of the plane.

I clenched my jaw, blinking away the sting of sweat caused by the stress and the ridiculous amount of gear we were supposed to drop with.

I'm gonna die.

The thought settled in like it had always been there— and maybe it had been. It wasn't a question, not even fear; just a cold, undeniable fact.

My fingers dug into my straps. I tried to picture what it would feel like —why?—, if I would know, if would have time to know. If it would hurt or just… end.

The plane rocked, metal clattering around us. My stomach lurched. A frustrated swear on my far left. A properly muttered prayer in front of me, unlike mine. My knuckles had gone bloodless around the straps, my mind running too fast.

I'm gonna die.

I exhaled slow. Forced my hands to unclench.

Should've taken that second pill.

I checked my gear again. Helmet, straps, chute. Leg bag, M1, grenades. My grandma's cross. Compass, knife, my helmet again. Was the strap too loose?

I'm gonna die.

Lieutenant Compton walked the row, his booming voice barely cutting through the engines' roar. I nodded when he looked at me, mechanical, automatic.

The crammed space smelled like metal, sweat and oil. My skin was too tight, my pulse hammering slow and deep in my throat, my stomach still twisting.

The light overhead burned red.

Almost time.

The plane rocked again. Someone screamed. I would have sworn the plane gained speed.

But the light turned green.

Time to go.

JOE'S P. O. V.

The plane rattled like it was about to fall apart.

My head rested against the vibrating metal wall, eyes half-lidded as I attempted to keep my stomach from doing another somersault. That little pill they gave us—meant to stop... airsickness? Had kicked in hard.

Everything felt just a little too slow; my limbs felt like they were moving through molasses, and the weight of the equipment wasn't helping the bizarre sensation.

My thoughts, out of step with my body, were running at full speed.

Not that they were worth much right now.

Please, God. If you're listening, make it quick.

That was about as much praying as I was willing to do.

The red interior light casted ominous shadows on everyone's faces, turning them into a row of ghosts strapped in with jump gear. The grumble of the engines swallowed almost everything, but ever so often, I caught a cough, the sound of someone sucking in a shaky breath, someone shouting for smokes.

I didn't look at anyone. I didn't want to see fear on their faces. I didn't want to see the absence of it, either.

I focused on my gloved hands, resting on my lap. I flexed my fingers. Loosened, clenched, loosened. Checked my weapon for the tenth time.

It's not going anywhere. Let it be.

Winters did his best to have his last-minute instructions reach us. I barely heard him, so I just nodded along, licking my lips.

Focus.

The taste of smoke and sweat.

The bite of adrenaline that hadn't hit full force yet.

The cold touch of the hook strapped in the line.

The thought of her.

"The fuck..."

Not on purpose.

It wasn't sentimental, nothing dramatic—just a flash of Y/n's face, half-shadowed, rain dripping off her collar, a cigarette hanging from her lips, curved into an open smile.

"This damn pill."

"WHATCHA SAY?!!" Someone behind me —who was supposed to be behind me?— yelled straight into my ear.

"THIS DAMN PILL!!"

A couple if pats on my shoulder blade.

"YOU BETTER WAKE UP, LIEB!!"

I shook my head, exhaled through my nose.

Focus.

I could see flashing lights through the clouds. Lightning, maybe. Something worse, probably. France beneath us.

Jesus.

My fingers curled tighter around the edge of my reserve chute. The air inside the plane shifted, like everyone had started breathing a little shallower. Lieutenant raised a fist. Equipment check.

I swallowed, rolling my shoulders.

"Shit. C'mon."

Please, God. Make it fucking quick.

The light turned green.

READER'S P. O. V.

The ground came up too fast, the impact rattling through my spine and knocking the air from my lungs. The canopy that had barely stopped my kneecaps from busting against the french soil dragged me half a foot before I managed to fight the buckle free.

A strained gasp left me when I rolled onto my stomach and sat back on my heels. Just a moment, just to check everything was in place.

The grass was damp, the earthiness of the air mixing with the gunpowder. My palms patted my body from top to bottom, acknowledging what was left of my gear by touch alone.

The knife strapped to my calf, the loose rounds digging into my pockets, my compass, my M1.

No helmet.

"Shit!"

A ragged burn where my chinstrap had dug into my skin before the force of the blast blew it off.

I wasn't dead, though. Not yet.

That was the only thing I knew for certain.

My surroundings were pure chaos, partly because of the mayhem of sounds, partly because my sight relied solely in whatever bit of the landscape the anti-aircraft tracers lit up intermittently.

I wasn't dead. I strained my ears, listening for voices, for movement, for anything I could catch nearby despite the drone of planes overhead.

Somewhere ahead of me, something moved. I heard it before I saw it and I prayed for the cover of darkness and my lack of helmet to work in my favor. But the movement was slow. Intentional. Close. A shuffle. Closer.

I squinted my eyes and, rifle raised, I caught a figure. Low in the grass, barely visible. My first instinct was to shoot. I had been trained to shoot, we all had. Shoot first, think second.

Shoot first.

Shoot.

But recognition had bloomed in me before thought, before instinct.

"Liebgott?"

The person slithered fast in my direction, triggering an uneven stammering in my heart. A hand clamped down on my arm, bringing me forward so fast I almost faceplanted into the dirt.

"Jesus Christ, Y/l/n." Joe's voice, rough and sharp. Too close. He was crouched in front of me, knife gripped so tight his knuckles were white, sweat slicking his forehead under his netted helmet. "Flash. Thunder." I could feel his breath against my cheek, his grip still firm on my arm, holding me low. "How 'bout you don't throw out my goddamn name in enemy territory?"

"Fucking flash, asshole." I yanked free but didn't bother on putting distance between us.

"Where's your damn helmet?" There was a certain frustration in his tone, not quite at me, nor at the helmet, but at the situation. They had fucked us over.

"Somewhere over Normandy."

"That's lovely."

"You don't have a gun?"

"What's it look like, smartass?"

His tone was biting, but his eyes, widened and on edge, were scanning our swamped vicinity.

"How long have you been down here?"

"Couple minutes." His response was low and sort of absent. He was focused on something else. "Saw your chute. Thought you'd be someone from my stick."

"Missed the drop zone."

He glanced me over. "You or me?"

"Don't know yet." I took a look around and, thanks to the deathly flashes shot at the C-47s, I got a glimpse of the chaotically scattered canopies still dropping from the planes, too fast, too low, too dispersed. "Maybe everyone."

Just when Joe looked like he was about to reply something, the air split.

We both spun to face the thud of a body hitting the ground beside us, my rifle up in no time, breaths frozen in our throats. The figure writhed, tangled in his chute, gasping something between a groan and a curse.

Joe was quicker than me to recognize him. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Petty."

Petty twisted onto his back, still winded. "Hell of a way to wake up."

I let my rifle lower, pulse hammering, but still found the nerve to turn to Joe and spit, "What happened to flash, thunder, 'don't throw out names in enemy territory'?"

Joe wiped a hand down his face. "Give me a fucking break, sweetheart."

"You call me sweetheart again, I swear to God—"

"No, I swear to God," Petty interrupted, cutting himself loose from his chute to join us. "if you two don't shut up, the Krauts won't have time to get you before I do." He shot us an exasperated glare, checking his sidearm. "My friggin' luck."

"Don't sound so thrilled there, buddy." Joe bit back.

"Let's just move." Petty loaded the pistol and quirked a brow at me, expectant. "Y/l/n?"

"I'm on it." I pulled my compass from my breast pocket and took advantage of the German artillery barraging our planes. "Alright." Think. You don't need a map. Just think. "We're moving out to those hedgerows." I pointed behind us. "Look out for railroads. They'll make this much easier."

"Who needs a map when you got Y/n Y/l/n, am I right?" Petty slapped Joe's shoulder and eagerly followed my indications.

We needed a damn map.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

JOE'S P. O. V.

The first dead soldiers we came across weren't Germans. They weren't Nazis, shot down with an M1, laid on the french grass.

They were ours.

A couple of unlucky men.

No, not men. Kids.

The first one was hanging by his risers on the higher branches, swaying like a butchered pig.

The second one was a few feet lower, limbs tangled like a broken marionette. Their chutes had failed to cut loose. Or maybe they had been shot before they had the chance. Maybe they hit the trees wrong and snapped their necks before they could even fight for air.

It didn't matter. They were dead all the same.

We knew their faces. Not their names—just faces. We had all trained together at some point, ate in the same mess halls, stood in the same formation. I was sure one of them had played poker with us back in Aldbourne.

Y/n forced herself not to avert her eyes.

Petty turned away, finding solace on the dewed grass.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

So I stared, my stomach twisting at the unnaturally shaped silhouettes hanging above us.

"We need to grab their gear." Y/n noted, not quite contemplating the bodies as much as assessing the easiest way to reach them.

I forced myself to blink. "Yeah."

"Who's climbing?" Petty's inquiry was hushed, as if he didn't want to disturb the hanging men.

Y/n moved first, brushing past me to get to the base of the twisted trunk. She tested her footing, sizing up the climb, then glanced over her shoulder.

I didn't even let her ask. I just knelt, clasping my hands together. Her mud-covered boot setting into my grip served as a prompt for me to boost her up, which I did. She caught the lowest branch and pulled herself higher.

The tree groaned softly under her weight. She climbed fast, steady, the rope of her dog tags catching the faintest rays of dawn slipping through the dark clouds with every shift of her body.

I wasn't able to discern her expression while her knife forced the risers to give with a few purposeful slices.

One body dropped.

It hit the ground heavy, wrong, all limp limbs and dead weight. Something inside me flinched like I had been yanked backward by the spine.

She climbed higher, a poorly contained gasp pushing out her throat when her grip slipped.

"Shit—" Petty hissed, both of us taking an instinctive step closer to the base of the tree as if to catch her.

She dismissed us with a vague wave of her hand and, with a stretched arm, she slashed the second soldier's tangled straps.

And another body dropped, this time closer, harder. The sound wasn't as loud as a gunshot, but it might as well have been. A dull, sick thud.

God, they didn't train us for this.

Y/n didn't dwell on it; she just started climbing down like she hadn't just sent a couple of american paratroopers crashing lifelessly to the ground.

I stepped forward, bracing her by the waist to help her down.

She immediately bristled. "I don't need fucking help—"

My fingers clenched against her uniform, too tight —tighter than I meant— and hauled her down. "I'm not in the mood, so shut the fuck up."

"Joe, c'mon." Petty halfheartedly chastised me, like he knew this moment would inevitably come and he really didn't want to be caught in the middle of it.

"No, don't start with me" I snapped, throwing him a look over my shoulder. "when she's the one bitching and moaning."

My attention immediately returned to Y/n, who had gone uncharacteristically still, her eyes trained on my form.

Not because I hadn't let go of her yet.

Because my hands were shaking.

Just a tremor against her ribs, a flex of my fingers like I was willing them to stay steady. But she noticed.

I let go of her uniform like it had burned me. Petty, who had given up quickly on trying to keep peace, was now kneeling by the fallen soldiers, rummaging through their gear. My hands were still trembling. I rubbed them together once, twice, like it might shake the feeling out.

"Okay." Y/n's tone shifted. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. Not soft. But not the usual edge either. A tilt of her head. "Okay..." A frown. "Alright."

Not worried, not exactly. Maybe careful, but not by much.

She reached out, gloved fingers brushing the fabric of my sleeve briefly before fisting it with a quiet, determined yank.

My first instinct was to jerk away, so I did; I pulled my arm free in one clean motion.

"We gotta move." Petty's voice broke the silence, attracting our glances to him. He wasn't looking at us. His eyes were scanning the trees, the low grass, the quiet farmhouse at his six.

Y/n didn't budge. "Give me a second."

Petty groaned, did a half turn and commented something I barely caught above the scattered gunfire about having to land with us out of everyone. But he indulged her nonetheless.

She yanked my sleeve again, more forceful this time. The sound of it scraping against my arm was unrealistically loud —at least to my ears.

Her pitch was calculated, nonchalant enough to almost pass as casual. "You good?"

It threw me off. If she had picked up on it, she didn't bring it up. Maybe later on, in the middle of a pointless argument, she would.

My reply was clipped and fast. "Fuck that."

"Joe."

It's wasn't the word that got me; it was the way she said it, and the faint glimpse of genuine care in her pupils, visible only when the occasional flak fire going up into the late night turned early morning illuminated her features.

Get a grip.

"I'm good. C'mon."

My voice didn't exactly sound convinced, but at the very least it sounded resolved and stubborn, and that would have to cut it.

Y/n stared at me for a beat. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment I thought she might press again.

She didn't. Instead, she just tilted her chin up once as if to say 'fine'.

She moved past me and reached the corpses in a couple of strides, catching the helmet Petty threw her way.

Get a fucking grip.

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andy-15-07 · 5 months ago

Note

Hii! I would love to see a fic where Paul Mescal and the reader are snowed in their apartment in London and it’s just cute and cozy!

Snowed In with You

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 810 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Paul Mescal Masterlis

The snow outside their London apartment had been falling steadily since the early hours of the morning, blanketing the city in a thick, soft white. Y/N stood by the window, her fingers curled around a steaming mug of tea, watching the world turn into a winter wonderland.

"We’re officially snowed in," Paul announced as he walked back into the living room, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. He stretched out, clad in sweatpants and one of his thick jumpers, looking every bit as cozy as the atmosphere around them.

Y/N turned, a smirk playing on her lips. "And this is a problem because…?"

Paul grinned. "It means I have no choice but to spend the entire day annoying you."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the amusement in them. "You do that every day anyway."

"True," he admitted, reaching out his hand. "Come here, let me keep you warm."

She obliged, padding across the wooden floors before settling against him on the couch, tucking herself under his arm. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his stubble scratching lightly against her skin. "This is nice," he murmured, his voice a soft hum of contentment.

Y/N smiled, snuggling deeper into his side. "It really is."

They spent the next hour lazily wrapped up in a blanket, flipping through films on the telly, neither of them able to agree on what to watch. "Rom-com," Y/N suggested, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Paul groaned. "We watched one last night."

"And your point?"

"Something with a bit more action? Maybe a thriller?"

She scoffed. "We’re snowed in, Paul. I need cozy, not heart-pounding."

He sighed dramatically but reached for the remote. "Fine. But you owe me."

"Owe you what?"

He smirked. "I’ll think of something."

They settled on Notting Hill, much to Y/N’s delight, and halfway through the film, Paul had given up pretending to protest. His fingers traced lazy circles on her arm as they watched, the warmth of their little cocoon making the outside world seem like a distant place.

When the credits rolled, Paul stretched, pulling her even closer. "Alright, I have an idea."

"Uh-oh."

"Oi," he nudged her side. "Trust me. It’s a good one."

Y/N raised a skeptical brow but let him pull her to her feet. "Are we making a snowman?"

"Nope."

"Sledding down the stairs?"

He chuckled. "Tempting, but no. We are making the best hot chocolate in the world."

She grinned. "With whipped cream and marshmallows?"

"Obviously."

They moved into the kitchen, working together to heat the milk and melt the chocolate. Paul insisted on adding a pinch of cinnamon, claiming it was his "secret ingredient." Y/N scoffed but let him have his moment.

As the hot chocolate steamed in their mugs, they clinked them together in a silent toast before taking a sip. Y/N let out a happy sigh. "Okay, fine. You were right."

Paul smirked. "I always am."

She lightly kicked his shin, making him laugh. "Careful, love. I’m fragile."

They carried their mugs back to the couch, curling up once more. Outside, the snow continued to fall, thick and endless, but inside, everything was warm, soft, and perfect.

Paul looked at her, eyes shining with something impossibly fond. "You know, if we’re stuck here forever, I wouldn’t mind."

Y/N smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Me neither."

The afternoon passed in a haze of soft touches and quiet laughter. They built a blanket fort in the living room, draping fairy lights around the edges to give it a golden glow. Paul crawled inside first, patting the space next to him. "Come on, love, it’s got everything—cushions, warmth, and most importantly, me."

Y/N laughed but crawled in beside him, settling between his legs and resting her head on his chest. "This might be the best snow day ever."

Paul hummed in agreement, running his fingers through her hair. "Told you I had good ideas."

They lay there for a while, wrapped up in their little world, until Paul suddenly whispered, "You hungry?"

Y/N turned her head to look up at him. "Always."

"Alright," he said, reluctantly pulling himself up. "Stay put. I’ll make us something."

She watched as he disappeared into the kitchen, hearing the familiar sounds of cupboards opening and the clatter of pans. Minutes later, he returned with grilled cheese sandwiches and another round of hot chocolate.

They ate inside their blanket fort, giggling between bites. "I think we should do this every time it snows," Y/N said, nudging his knee.

Paul grinned. "Deal. But next time, I get to pick the movie."

She pretended to consider. "Fine, but only if you keep making me hot chocolate."

"Done."

As the snowstorm raged on outside, inside their little cocoon of warmth, everything felt perfect. And for that day, at least, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

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sai-int · 8 months ago

Note

Ophan!reader going to johnnies (bf/fiance/hubby) parents to meet them, and is like immediately accepted by his massive family (it’s cliche but cute)

the worms in my brain did a happy dance when I read this

fluff, established relationship, Johnny x reader

The jolliest of seasons had arrived with December’s first snowfall. Soft, fluffy flakes floated down, tapping against the windowpane before gathering in a thick, gentle layer over the ground. Outside, string lights stretched from one side of the street to the other, casting a warm glow that made the whole block twinkle like a scene from a holiday postcard. The snow caught in the lights, making it look as though the whole street was dusted in stardust, each flake reflecting the winter wonderland that was forming.

Inside, the cozy warmth made the contrast even sweeter.

You and Johnny were nestled on the couch, wrapped up in each other's warmth as you watched the snow drift quietly outside. The low hum of the TV and the soft crackle of the fireplace were the only sounds in the room, creating a comforting, blissful silence. His warmth beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, made you feel safe and perfectly content despite the winter chill just beyond the walls.

"Edinburgh's beautiful this time of year, ya know?" Johnny murmured softly in your ear, his voice a gentle warmth against your skin. Your back was snugly pressed against his chest, the thick blanket you’d crocheted wrapped around the both of you, adding to the cozy cocoon.

"Ah was thinkin'," he continued, his tone a blend of tenderness and hope, "since ah ken how ye get around these times… maybe ye should come with me this year… meet my mam, my family."

You knew what he meant. Christmas. Family, joy, love—the things you’d always kept at a distance. But with Johnny, Christmas had started to feel like something magical, like a season worth celebrating.

"You think so?" you asked, turning to meet his gaze. His cerulean eyes were filled with warmth and certainty, a soft glow in the firelight that made your heart skip.

"Aye, lassie." he whispered, his voice sure and steady, wrapping you in a warmth that reached deeper than the blanket around you both.

By the end of that night, plane tickets were purchased, dates were set, and his family was well informed.

...

It was Christmas Eve, and you and Johnny were pulling into his mother’s driveway. As he parked, you glanced over at him, nerves fluttering in your chest. You worried about what his family might think, unsure of what to expect, how to act—and especially not feeling ready to celebrate Christmas.

You hadn’t known what to get anyone, or even what made a good Christmas gift, but Johnny had guided you through it. What was meant to be a quick trip to Target turned into two hours, $500, and a sack of gifts hefty enough to rival Santa’s.

Sensing your unease, Johnny turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar warmth. He placed his hand over yours, his steady touch calming the anxious knot in your stomach.

"They’re goin' tae love ye, Bon. Promise," he murmured reassuringly, his voice soft yet certain.

You nodded, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. When Johnny saw that you were okay, he flashed you a reassuring smile and stepped out of the car, circling around to open your door. He pulled the massive sack of gifts from the trunk, giving it an amused look.

“Ah think ye overdid it, lass,” he chuckled, his smile so warm it felt like it could bring world peace.

Your cheeks flushed, wondering if maybe you had overdone it. You’d picked out gifts for everyone expected tonight—his parents, grandparents, three sisters, two brothers, and all six nieces and nephews.

“I just hope they like the gifts…” you murmured as he took your hand, balancing the sack over his other shoulder.

The door opened to reveal a petite woman who could only be Johnny’s mother. She had the same deep blue eyes, filled with that unmistakable kindness and warmth.

“Seven hells! Johnny, where ye been hidin' ‘er? Right bonnie lass, ain’t she?” his mother exclaimed, grinning as she stepped aside to welcome you both inside.

“Don' go scarin' 'er away no', Ma,” Johnny laughed, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as your cheeks flushed. His mother shut the door behind you, mumbling something about keeping the house warm.

The moment Johnny spoke, a lively hum broke out from the living room, where nearly every face you’d bought gifts for was gathered. You braced yourself, expecting everyone to greet Johnny first while you stood awkwardly in the background, but reality couldn’t have been further from that.

Small children, all under ten, dashed over and hugged your legs as three beautiful women (Johnny’s sisters, you assumed) moved to embrace you, pressing warm kisses to your cheeks. They immediately pulled you into the family circle, showering you with questions and heartfelt compliments. It was as if Johnny wasn't even there.

Johnny’s mother could have left the door wide open, letting the winter winds blow through and settle into the bones of the house, and still, nothing could have cooled the warmth spreading through your heart.

mlist

#𓄧 angel’s asks #♱ angel’s writing #soap cod #soap call of duty #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap and angel sitting in a tree

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kezdispenser · 6 months ago

Text

Cuddling Isn’t in the Goddamn Manual

A Soldier Boy Christmas one shot

The snowstorm outside coated the city in a perfect winter wonderland. Streetlights cast a soft glow over the white-blanketed streets, and your apartment felt like a cozy little bubble insulated from the cold chaos beyond. The Christmas tree in the corner glimmered with fairy lights, and the smell of cinnamon cookies mixed with the faint aroma of the hot chocolate you’d just poured for yourself.

Ben—better known to the world as Soldier Boy—was slouched on your couch in full “tough guy” mode. His leather jacket was still zipped halfway up, his boots propped carelessly on the coffee table, and his beer dangling loosely in one hand. The perfect picture of a man who thought he was too cool for comfort.

“You know,” you said as you walked in and set your mug down on the side table, “you could at least take off your jacket and pretend to enjoy yourself. It’s Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t even glance at you, eyes fixed on the TV where some black-and-white holiday classic was playing. “Jacket stays on. Gotta stay ready for action.”

You snorted, flopping down onto the couch beside him. “What action? The reindeer uprising?”

That earned you a side-eye and a faint smirk, but he didn’t dignify it with a response.

“Anyway,” you continued, nudging his knee with your foot, “I was thinking we could cuddle for a bit. You know, really lean into the festive spirit.”

Ben’s laugh was loud and derisive, the kind of laugh that made it clear he thought you’d lost your damn mind. “Cuddling? You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be kidding? It’s Christmas! It’s cold! I’m cute!”

“Yeah, well, cuddling’s not exactly my thing,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “Not manly. Never has been.”

“Oh, please,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re telling me the guy who once hugged a flamethrower like it was his long-lost lover can’t handle a little cuddle?”

“That was different,” he said defensively.

“Uh-huh. Sure it was.” You leaned back dramatically, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. “Fine. Guess I’ll just have to cuddle myself. Or, I don’t know, maybe the throw pillows. They’re softer than you, anyway.”

He scowled, his jaw tightening in that familiar way that meant you were getting under his skin. You knew him too well; you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the way his hand stilled on his beer bottle.

“You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully, scooting a little closer to him. “Look, it’s Christmas Eve. Just one night, Ben. One tiny cuddle. No one’s gonna know, and I promise not to tell anyone you’re secretly a big teddy bear under all that macho posturing.”

He gave you a flat look. “I am not a teddy bear.”

“Sure you’re not,” you teased, poking his arm.

For a moment, you thought he was going to dig in his heels and keep up the act. But then he groaned, setting his beer down on the coffee table with a thud. “Fine. One night. But if you so much as think about telling anyone, I’m gone.”

Your grin was instantaneous and shameless. “Deal.”

Before he could change his mind, you crawled into his lap, making yourself comfortable as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He stiffened at first, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself, but you weren’t worried.

“Relax,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, though his hands slowly settled on your back.

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt him relax, his body softening against yours despite his grumbling. He was warm, solid, and oddly comforting in a way that didn’t match the image he projected to the world.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he said after a while, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

“Of course not,” you said, biting back a laugh. “Just a totally meaningless Christmas cuddle.”

“Damn right.”

The movie played on in the background, the faint sound of holiday music filtering in from the street below. You closed your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you. His hand started tracing slow circles on your back, and you smiled to yourself.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your smile widening. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

And for that one night, Soldier Boy let himself be a little less soldier and a little more boy.

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

A/N: A little christmas miracle from soldier boy and from me to you guys.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #christmas #cuddles

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icrypop · 6 months ago

Text

Oh my Love

---

Domestic shorts with the boys on Christmas Eve

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylus

The Onychinus leader rarely indulged in domesticity, but tonight was different. His usually sharp demeanor softened as he stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, assisting you with a clumsy attempt at baking cookies.

“Sylus,” you teased, smirking as he managed to get flour on his face. “You’re supposed to mix it, not attack it.”

His amber eyes narrowed playfully. “If your instructions weren’t as vague as your bedtime stories, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

You chuckled, stepping closer to wipe the flour off his cheek. His hand caught yours, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his. “I’m not much for holidays,” he murmured, his voice low. “But if they’re with you…” His lips ghosted over yours, making your heart flutter.

Later, you sat in front of a modest tree, wrapped in his arms as the fire crackled. His fingertips traced lazy patterns on your skin, and for once, the galaxy’s troubles felt light-years away.

---

Xavier

Xavier's refined taste transformed your living room into a winter wonderland. Twinkling lights, elegant garlands, and the perfect tree stood as his handiwork. “It’s beautiful,” you said, admiring his work.

“It pales in comparison to you,” Xavier replied, his silver hair catching the soft glow of the lights. He handed you a mug of hot cocoa and guided you to the couch.

You spent the evening wrapped in his arms, his soothing voice reading a classic Christmas story as snow fell outside. Every word felt like a melody, his love evident in every glance he gave you.

When the story ended, he tilted your chin up and kissed you, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. “Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered, his smile as soft as the snowfall.

---

Rafayel

Rafayel’s laugh echoed through the cabin as you threw another snowball his way. “You think you can take me down?” he teased, dodging with ease.

“Maybe!” you shot back, managing to land a hit on his chest. He feigned hurt, clutching his heart dramatically before rushing toward you.

Before you could escape, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, spinning you in a circle. You squealed, laughing as he fell back into the snow with you in tow.

Lying beside each other, gazing at the stars, Rafayel brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You make even the coldest nights warm,” he murmured. His lips found yours, the kiss both playful and tender.

Later, back inside, you sipped mulled wine by the fire, wrapped in a blanket with him. The mischievous glint in his eyes softened into something deeper as he held you close.

---

Zayne

Zayne was surprisingly skilled at decorating, meticulously placing ornaments on the tree. “You’re such a perfectionist,” you teased, watching as he adjusted a bow for the third time.

“Details matter,” he replied, smirking. “Besides, I want this to be perfect for you.”

Once the tree was finished, he dimmed the lights, letting the soft glow of the decorations take center stage. He pulled you to the couch, where a cozy blanket and a platter of your favorite snacks awaited.

You leaned against him, feeling his steady heartbeat as a holiday movie played in the background. “I never thought I’d enjoy something this... domestic,” he admitted, his voice soft.

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. “Guess I’m rubbing off on you.”

He chuckled, brushing his lips against your temple. “Merry Christmas, my heart,” he said, pulling you closer. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of his love.

---

#my fic #x reader #love and deepspace #lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lads zayne #lads rafayel #lads #rafayel l&ds #merry christmas #christmas

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rainforestakiie · 2 months ago

Text

Tarot Love AU

hello everyone~

this is my new au. i really do hope you like it. i am aiming to have a part two, hopefully next week or the week afterward. i really hope this make sense, i loved it. it is a wonderland/card-themed sort of things? i really like my idea of it. it will get more drama in part 02, part 01 is more of, introducing you to this world.

Part 01 - Part 02

info:

 Spades (♠) – Wisdom, action, conflict, power. (Often associated with winter and the swords in tarot.)

 Hearts (♥) – Love, emotion, relationships, joy. (Tied to spring and emotions in general.)

 Diamonds (♦) – Wealth, work, material things, energy. (Linked to fall and practicality.)

 Clubs (♣) – Growth, creativity, willpower, achievement. (Connected to summer and ambition.)

 Spades (highest)

 Hearts

 Diamonds

 Clubs (lowest)

A searing fire raged in Adam’s chest, radiating from the small, one-eyed Sinner's cruel stab. His entire body pulsed with agony and numbness alike, a throbbing ache that somehow felt like nothing at all. Colours smeared across his vision, swirling together in waves of blue, gold, crimson, and green. A single bead of cold sweat slid down one side of his face, while on the other, something warm trickled, as if he were caught between frost and flame, he exhaled a shallow, broken breath, his throat raw and burning with a strange, haunting familiarity.

With a faint, almost sorrowful hiss between pale lips, Adam forced his heavy eyes open, expecting to see the waxy, bloodred deserts of Hell or, if fate was merciful, the shimmering clouds of Heaven, steeped in white and violet. Maybe Sera had descended to pull him from the jaws of death? Maybe Lute had dragged him back through the portal?

Maybe dying wasn't as terrifying as he had feared. A faraway bell tolled in his ears, a sound he knew, yet could not place, its echoes twisting through his rattling mind.

Adam flinched, long lashes trembling. He stirred slightly, feeling something soft, cool, almost damp, beneath him. His toes curled; his fingers twitched, the hairs on his arms rose as he shifted again, uncertain of the sensation beneath his skin.

He knew he had died. He remembered the blade sinking in during the battle at the cursed hotel, the tiny maid-Sinner slipping through the chaos to strike him down.

He remembered the weight of his extermination robes, thick, layered, and suffocating, a far cry from the pure white garments he once wore in the service of Heaven. Those robes had wrapped him tightly, hiding the shame of his mortal form, ever since the day he bit into the forbidden fruit, s shame that had never left him.

So... why, then, did he feel bare? Naked as the day the Angels first crafted him among the gardens?

Adam wriggled his feet, testing the sensation. No fabric clung to his legs; no robe shielded his body. His hands moved instinctively, brushing down his stomach, covering himself in modesty and yet... somehow, his hands remained motionless at his sides. He covered himself but he also didn't.

Confusion rippled through him, his brow furrowed as he pried his eyes open once more, blinking against the strange new light. Above him, pale branches wove a tangled canopy, the grass beneath him was soft and fragrant, sage-green and speckled with tiny yellow and pink blossoms that swayed in a breeze he could not feel. The sky above was a gentle blue, with clouds the colour of rosewater drifting lazily.

The sun... it was wrong, it looked more like a star, burning cold and distant.

Slowly, Adam sat up, shame gnawing at him even in this strange new world. His hands, or what he thought were his hands, covered himself in reflex but something was wrong, terribly wrong.

His hands weren’t moving... and yet, he was covering himself. His breath caught in his throat, his skin turned deathly pale, and horror widened his eyes.

He had four arms.

Four arms, four hands and twenty fingers.

A strangled, piercing shriek tore from his lips, scattering the peaceful birds from the trees. They fled in a rush of golden feathers, raining down like drops of sunlight.

Adam remained, trembling in the tall grass, staring at his foreign limbs with growing terror, he struggled to move them, fought to control the twitching of alien muscles. He rocked from side to side, attempting to rise, only to fall back again and again, stumbling, crawling, grappling with himself until he simply collapsed in the grass, dazed and frightened.

What had become of him? What had he become?

Dizziness spiralled through him like a storm and Adam stumbled forward, collapsing onto his knees in the soft grass. His body felt foreign, unfamiliar, a vessel no longer fully his own. Four arms twitched and trembled at his sides, but mercifully, only two legs carried his weight. Thank the stars, he thought faintly; he didn’t know how he would have endured four legs as well.

Breathing slowly, eyes squeezed shut, Adam fought to steady the frantic drumbeat of his heart. He listened, truly listened, letting the world speak to him, the wind hummed a soft, mournful tune as it weaved through the trees; birds flitted high above, their feathers whispering secrets into the air; the cool kiss of grass cradled his trembling skin.

Finally, with great effort, Adam peeled his eyes open and glanced down at himself, but the sight told him little. He was naked, bare and exposed as he had been once, long ago, in Eden’s embrace.

Eden?

A crease formed between Adam’s brows as his gaze swept the world around him. A desperate hope flickered in his chest. Had he returned? Had death, at long last, gifted him the impossible, a path back to where it all began?

Slowly, almost reverently, Adam shuffled forward on his knees. He reached out to the grass, the flowers, the towering trees, his upper arms stretched willingly, but the others...the others clung to him, wrapping protectively around his waist, trembling with the unspoken fear pulsing through him. Adam tried to ignore the phantom limbs, there were greater mysteries demanding his attention now.

His heart thundered in his chest, trembling on the cusp of hope and dread.

Was this Eden? Had he truly come home?

Could it be that all his whispered prayers, his silent weeping, his endless yearning had been answered at last?

He tried to stand, legs wobbling dangerously beneath him, joints cracking and popping in protest. Somehow, Adam found his balance and rose to his feet, eyes wide as they devoured the forest around him, his heart ached with longing, for his mother, for his garden, for forgiveness.

Had God, at last, taken pity on him? But... as he stood there, a slow and chilling realization began to weave its way through his thoughts.

This was not Eden.

He knew Eden with a lover's memory, every leaf, every petal, every breeze imprinted onto his soul. He had spent centuries retracing its beauty in his mind, living it over and over in dreams. But this place... this world... it was alien.

The forest shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light. The colours were deeper, richer, more haunting, shades of violet, indigo, and gold bled into one another, painting the trees and sky in hues no mortal tongue could name. The bark of the trees glowed faintly, pale silver-white shot through with opalescent veins, as though starlight itself had been woven into their skin.

The flowers were unlike any he had known. Adam knelt, breath hitching in wonder, reaching towards a bloom that should have been a red carnation. It smelled sweet and familiar, its petals soft against his fingertips, but the shape was wrong. Instead of the familiar frilled blossom, it curled upward into a strange, club-like form, heavy and otherworldly.

He looked around, seeing the same pattern everywhere. Every leaf, every blossom, even the rugged bark of the trees twisted into soft, club-like shapes. Strange stones littered the ground, tiny pebbles and larger rocks, all worn into the same unnatural curves.

Above him, a bird settled onto a low branch, its feathers a tapestry of gold and sapphire. Adam gasped softly; even the bird's wings bore those faint, ghostly club-shaped patterns, woven through the feathers like forgotten runes.

This was not Earth…this was not Heaven, and it most certainly was not Eden.

Adam’s breath trembled as he stood alone in the heart of this unknown garden, four trembling hands at his sides, staring into a world that should have been home... but was not.

What was this place?

Adam’s breath caught painfully in his throat as he staggered deeper into the alien woods. His wide, shimmering eyes darted from shape to shape, drinking in the unfamiliar, the impossible. Nothing was as it should have been.

The world unfolded around him like a broken reflection of home, beautiful, yes, but twisted and wrong in ways that gnawed at the edges of his mind. Trees stretched high into the endless pastel sky, their branches curling like skeletal fingers, flowers bloomed in impossible colours, breathing sweet, dizzying scents into the air.

Even the creatures, once a source of comfort and love to him, now seemed like strangers wearing familiar skins. Some were monstrous, ten times their natural size, cloaked in rippling fur the colour of jewels, club-shaped patterns etched in shimmering threads across their hides. Others had shrivelled down to almost nothing, tiny and fragile, blinking at him with too-many eyes, wings sprouted from beasts that should not fly, while others, who should have soared, dragged themselves along the ground, wingless and silent.

Adam glimpsed a horned horse, lazily sprawled in a meadow that glowed gold beneath the strange star-sun. The creature’s wings, wide and translucent, stirred the golden grasses, but Adam dared not approach. Something deep inside warned him to keep his distance.

Yet even as he stumbled forward, he felt eyes following him, when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the creatures trailing after him, silent and slow, as if drawn by the scent of his fear, or perhaps by something deeper, a bond he couldn’t yet understand.

Anxious and trembling, Adam continued to wander through the haunting, dreamlike Eden. Every step felt like walking through a memory that was never his.

He tilted his face to the eerie sky. "Sera?" he called out, his voice thin and cracking.

No blinding light descended from the heavens. Only soft blue skies, pink-tinted clouds, and that strange star watched over him.

"Sera?" he shouted again, more desperately. "W-Where are you? Are you punishing me?"

But no answer came, no angelic voice, no divine whisper. Only the wind, rustling through the alien trees, responded, a sound that felt too much like a sigh of mourning. Adam’s skin prickled, every hair on his body standing rigid, he realized with a cold, creeping dread that he was utterly, devastatingly alone, this loneliness was deeper than anything he had ever known, more suffocating than the bitterest of his nightmares.

"I...I don't want to be alone," Adam whispered, his knees buckling beneath him.

He collapsed into the tall, breathing grass, lowering his head as warm tears blurred his vision.

This was no Eden; this was no home. It was a cruel imitation, a place stitched together from dreams and horrors alike. He sniffled, broken and small, he didn’t understand. His body had changed, warped with four arms, strange and monstrous.

That one-eyed Sinner had killed him. He had felt the blade, had felt the life bleed out of him. So how…how had he awoken here, in this wrong, twisted garden?

A sharp gasp tore from Adam’s lips as the ground trembled softly beside him, domething enormous had settled at his side. His skin crawled with dread as he dared to lift his tear-soaked face, blinking through his grief to see what had come to him.

It was a lion.

But not any lion he had ever known, this one was colossal, its body the size of a mortal bus, its muscles rippling beneath a coat of fur as dark as the endless void between stars. Its mane shimmered with tiny silver club patterns that pulsed and winked like distant constellations, the creature's golden eyes gazed at Adam with a depth of sadness, of ancient understanding, that struck him to his core.

Adam trembled, frozen, and then the lion moved, slow and deliberate, lowering its great head to nuzzle gently against his side. Its fur was impossibly warm, impossibly soft, like sinking into the night sky itself.

Something inside Adam cracked.

A broken sob escaped him as he leaned into the massive creature's warmth, burying his face into the thick, starlit mane. His four arms trembled, clutching handfuls of fur as wave after wave of grief and loneliness tore free from his chest.

The lion did not flinch, did not pull away, it stayed, anchoring him against the wild, cruel sea of his sorrow.

And for the first time in what felt like eternity, Adam allowed himself to weep, not as a sinner, not as an exile, not as an angel or even a human but as something small, something lost, cradled in the embrace of something just as strange, just as broken, as he was.

Adam didn’t know how long he remained like that, pressed against the endless warmth of the great black lion. Time itself seemed to drift and scatter like dust in the twilight air. He couldn’t even remember when his sobs had faded into trembling silence, his eyes burned, his body ached in strange, unfamiliar ways, as if something inside him was unfolding, growing, changing. There was a low, persistent buzzing between his shoulder blades, but he pushed the feeling away, too drained to care.

The wind here, soft and sweet, kissed his skin like a tender lover, calming him in a way he didn't understand but welcomed with a tired sigh. Adam closed his eyes, listening to the lion’s deep, soothing purrs, the sound throbbed through his bones, slow and rhythmic, massaging his wearied spirit until he nearly slipped into sleep but then the lion shifted, rumbling low in its chest, and Adam stirred with a sleepy groan. He rubbed the back of his hand against his sore eyes and blinked blearily around him.

He froze, all around him, nestled close in a loose, reverent circle, were creatures unlike any he had ever seen , creatures of myth and dreams, stitched together from the wildest fantasies of another world.

There were massive elk with branching antlers woven with silver vines, their hides painted in soft swirling blues and golds. Great birds with feathers like molten glass perched upon the twisted trees, their wings humming with club-shaped sigils that shimmered in the pastel light.

Tiny foxes with too many tails, some sprouting delicate, leaf-like appendages, darted playfully around heavier beasts, like bears with coats of soft lavender and luminous club-shaped patterns rippling across their thick hides.

Even serpents slithered among them, their scales glinting like precious stones, each eye a swirling pool of green and gold. Unicorns with wings, wolves with horns, hares with butterfly wings, all creatures seemingly stitched together from forgotten dreams and secret wishes and each bore the same strange mark, somewhere, in fur or feather or scale, the pattern of a club.

Adam blinked at them, heart trembling, a strange warmth pooling inside his chest. Maybe they hadn’t followed him out of fear, maybe they came because they cared for him…maybe they loved him.

The creatures began to lean forward, brushing past him with breathless grace, moving toward something just beyond where he sat. Adam tilted his head and gasped softly.

Before him was a lake, a glittering, crystal wonder that he had somehow not seen until now.

The water shimmered a pale lavender, reflecting the dreamy sky, and club-shaped lily pads drifted lazily across its surface, their dark green shadows dancing below. One by one, the animals dipped their muzzles into the cool water, drinking as if it were the sweetest nectar.

Swallowing hard, Adam shifted closer, crawling forward on hands and knees, all four of his hands brushing against the soft grass, until he reached the edge, tentatively, he reached out to touch the surface.

The water kissed his skin with a cool, delicious sweetness, no pain, no sting, just a soothing touch that sent a ripple of comfort through his aching body.

Slowly, Adam leaned over, peering into the rippling water as it stilled into a perfect mirror, he gasped.

It was his face and yet not.

His skin, once sun-kissed and golden, now held the soft olive glow of early summer, kissed by some unseen sunlight. His body was lean and slender, almost delicate compared to what it once was in Eden, he was smaller. His shoulders not as broad, his frame lighter.

And his cheeks…Adam reached up with trembling fingers, lightly tracing the faint shapes that adorned them. Club-shaped marks, soft and green, brushed like whispered kisses across his face, not harsh or sickly, but the gentle, vibrant green of life in full bloom.

His eyes, once sharp and narrow, were now larger, rounder, a mesmerizing blend of green and gold, his pupils shaped like tiny clubs. There was no sign of the wound that had once ended him, instead, a single green club-shaped mark rested over his heart, pulsing faintly as though alive but that wasn’t the most astonishing thing.

Sprouting from between his shoulder blades, lush and luminous, were two great wings, pure green, shaped like enormous clubs, patterned with faint veins of light that shimmered each time they shifted…the buzzing he’d felt, it was his wings.

His hair, too, had changed, soft brown strands threaded through with living club-shaped leaves and delicate red flowers, forming a crown that seemed to grow naturally from his head.

Adam trailed his gaze down to his limbs, his arms and legs were sprinkled with more of that summery green, vines and tiny blossoms curling gently around his wrists and ankles like living jewellery.

How had he not noticed all this before? How had he not felt how much he had become something… new?

"What..." he breathed, leaning back in pure shock, confusion swirling inside him like a storm. "What... is this?"

Suddenly, the forest shivered around him. A voice, loud, desperate, shattered the dreamlike stillness.

"Adam?!"

Adam flinched violently, his heart leaping into his throat. The animals around him whined, scattering like startled leaves, their graceful forms vanishing into the forest’s endless depths.

Only the black lion stayed, it remained steadfast by his side, its giant paws stretched forward, purring deeply, as if anchoring Adam to the earth.

Adam turned, crouching low behind the lion's massive body for shelter as another figure burst into the clearing, not walking, but flying, weaving urgently through the gnarled, club-blooming branches.

"Adam?" the voice cried again, familiar, beloved, but laced now with something raw and cracked. "Where are you? I heard you cry out! What happened?"

Adam’s breath hitched, his trembling hands gripping the lion's soft mane. Was this truly someone he knew or was it another dream stitched together by this strange, broken Eden?

Home, they had said…home but Adam wasn't sure what home even meant anymore, he wasn’t even himself anymore…

"Adam? Where are you?" the voice cried, raw and trembling with desperation. "Are you hurt? Did they harm you? I can heal you, please, just let me find you!"

The sound struck something deep inside Adam, familiar yet strange, like a half-forgotten lullaby. It was new and ancient all at once, close but distant, like a memory blurred by tears.

Slowly, hesitantly, Adam lifted himself onto his toes, peeking over the endless sea of black fur belonging to the midnight lion, even stretched tall, it was difficult, the lion was simply too large, too solid, but Adam managed a glimpse.

His heart pounded furiously in his chest, his club-shaped pupils dilating wide enough to hurt, that couldn’t be who he thought it was. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

"Adam!" the voice called again, and now he heard it clearly.

Adam stood frozen, his mind struggling to catch up, to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. Lucifer, but not Lucifer. A ghost and yet not a ghost, not the same stupid, traitorous angel who had stolen his life, who had torn Eden apart with his greedy, golden hands, who had taken everything from him.

Panic clawed up Adam's spine, he yelped, stumbling backward. His clumsy feet tangled together, and he tumbled onto the ground just as the figure rushed toward him, faster than a falling star.

"Adam! Ah, it’s you! It's really you!" the boy-shaped vision cried, radiant and wild, glowing with a light too beautiful to be real. He surged toward Adam without hesitation, not even noticing Adam’s frantic attempts to crawl away.

"You’ve come home, finally! You look, ah! Just as beautiful as I remember!"

"W-What?" Adam croaked, blinking rapidly as the short, brilliant figure closed in on him. His wings fumbled awkwardly against a tree, leaves shivering from the impact.

"I missed you," Lucifer whispered, breathless, cupping Adam’s cheeks in his cool hands. His thumbs brushed over the soft club-marks on Adam’s skin, reverent and gentle. "I missed you so much... Waiting for you nearly broke me."

Adam flinched, overwhelmed, but he never got the chance to answer. Lucifer leaned forward without warning, closing the distance between them and capturing Adam’s mouth in a desperate, trembling kiss.

The contact sent a jolt through Adam, not painful, but bright and bewildering, a sensation he had never known before. His wings flared wide without his permission, a sharp, electric buzz dancing along them, for a fleeting, horrifying moment, Adam nearly melted into it, into Lucifer's arms, into the starry pull of him but then something zapped along his wings, a jarring sting that snapped him back.

Lucifer. He was kissing Lucifer, the one who had betrayed him, who had shattered everything he loved.

A low growl ripped from Adam’s throat, he grabbed Lucifer's shoulders and shoved him back, forcing him to arm’s length.

"Adam?" Lucifer blinked, confusion clouding his bright blue eyes. "What's wrong? Didn't you miss me?"

Adam’s chest heaved, his lips tingling, his wings buzzing wildly, it was then he noticed, Lucifer’s wings had spread too, lining up perfectly with his own. The buzzing, the tremor in the air, it was between them. He didn’t know if he hated it... or if it terrified him even more that part of him liked it.

"What's happening?!" Adam cried out, voice cracking. "What the fuck is all this?!"

Lucifer's face twisted with worry, he held Adam’s face tenderly, refusing to let go.

"Adam... don't you recognize me?" he whispered, tilting his head like a lost child. "It’s me. Lucifer."

"I know who you are!" Adam snapped, trying again to wriggle away, but Lucifer only held him more carefully, as if Adam might break into pieces.

"And?" Lucifer asked, voice tight with fear.

"And…" Adam faltered, anger tangled with something else, something sad and heavy in his chest.

Lucifer’s wings stirred restlessly behind him, casting glimmering shadows. "Adam, don’t you remember?"

"Why would you kiss me?!" Adam demanded hoarsely. "After everything you did to me! After you ruined my life, after you stole everything from me! You hate me!"

Lucifer stared at him, stunned, as if Adam had struck him.

"Hate you?!" he gasped, as if the very idea was a wound. "Hate you? No, Adam, never, I love you, you idiot!"

Adam froze; the world seemed to tip sideways.

"Love?" Adam whispered, horrified. "You love me?"

Lucifer softened, inching closer, his eyes glowing like winter stars.

"Adam..." he said, voice low and aching. "Don’t you remember who I am? I’m Lucifer of Spades. Your mate."

Mate. Spades. The words hit Adam like falling stones.

He blinked hard, his body sagging against the tree behind him, trying desperately to breathe. Finally, finally, he really looked at Lucifer, he was the same... but changed, just like Adam.

Lucifer was still small and slight, with hair the colour of sunlight and duckling fluff but now his pale skin shimmered like stardust, touched by a faint dusting of soft winter blue along his arms and legs, as if kissed by frost, his arms, six now, three on each side, folded against his body like delicate wings of their own and on each of his cheeks bloomed a dark blue spade-shaped mark, glowing softly against the pale flush.

In his golden curls, tiny white specks glittered, not dust, not flowers, but tiny, perfect flakes of snow, crowning him like a winter king. Around his wrists and ankles were wreaths of white fur, threaded through with delicate frost flowers and crystal leaves. His wings…oh, his wings, stretched behind him in towering splendour, vast and silver-white, shaped like great shimmering spades, etched through with even tinier spade patterns beneath the surface.

Adam stared, heart pounding. "You’re..." Adam croaked, bewildered. "You’re cold."

Lucifer let out a soft laugh and sat back on his heels, giving Adam space at last.

"Of course," he said, smiling with a sad sort of fondness. "Spades are the winter evening. Just like you, Clubs, you are the summer dawn."

Adam squinted, trying desperately to piece together the fragments of sense in Lucifer’s words but everything slipped through his fingers like mist, nothing fit. Nothing felt real, this wasn't Lucifer... and yet, it was.

"Why are you naked?" Adam blurted out instead, the question falling from his lips before he could stop it.

Lucifer’s long white lashes fluttered like moth wings. "Naked? Adam..." he murmured, voice trailing off into the cold night air.

Before Adam could retreat, Lucifer leaned in closer, and Adam let out a startled, undignified yelp. His skin prickled, not with heat, but with an odd, unfamiliar sensation that made him fear he was flushing green instead of red. He pressed himself back against the rough bark of the tree, staring up at Lucifer warily, his chest tight with something he couldn't name.

"What-what are you doing?" Adam croaked, his voice cracking like brittle ice.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, the bright spade-shaped pupils of frosted blue seeming to pierce straight through him, reading every broken, tangled thought in his head. Without warning, Lucifer moved, swift as a gust of winter wind, and before Adam could react, his hand was seized in Lucifer’s cool, firm grasp.

"Can you fly?" Lucifer demanded, urgent and intense.

"Fly?!" Adam yelped, jerking and squirming, but Lucifer’s fingers only tightened around his own. "What-what are you talking about?!"

Lucifer flicked a glance toward Adam’s back, toward the summer-green wings that trembled against the tree bark.

"Your wings," Lucifer said sharply. "Do you remember how to use them?"

Adam turned, awkwardly flexing the leafy club-shaped wings behind him. They opened and closed, slow and unsure, like the first uncertain flutter of a newborn butterfly.

"I..." He swallowed, heart thundering. "I remember how to use wings," he said at last.

It wasn't a lie, he remembered how to fly, with his old, golden angel wings. Surely these would work the same... wouldn't they?

Lucifer’s gaze darkened with doubt; he didn’t look convinced.

"Prove it," Lucifer said flatly.

"What?" Adam bristled. "Prove what?"

"Show me," Lucifer said, stepping back and folding all six of his arms over his chest, like a king waiting for a jester to amuse him. "Prove you still remember how to fly."

Adam scowled, folding his own arms petulantly across his chest. "Why should I?" he muttered, his voice thick with stubbornness.

But his defiance only seemed to frustrate Lucifer further, his lips twisted into a deeper frown, sharp teeth glinting like deadly icicles. His glacial eyes narrowed to slits, sharp and cutting.

Adam felt a ripple of unease crawl down his spine under that look. He took a clumsy step back.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Adam asked, voice small, the words barely a breath against the heavy air.

"You either prove you know how to use them," Lucifer snapped, his voice cutting through the hush of the forest like a blade, "Or I will carry you myself. It’s your choice, Adam."

Adam stared back at him, momentarily stunned, confused But then, slowly, something ugly and burning began to worm its way up from the pit of his chest. Anger.

Who the hell does he think he is?

This was Lucifer, the Lucifer. The angel who had once come down to Eden like a golden comet, dazzling and bright, a friend who had laughed and played with him among the gardens, who had dared the impossible alongside him, stirred up mischief beneath the other Angel’s blind eyes, his guardian Angel.

The same Lucifer who had shattered everything. Who had stolen Lilith away, whispering promises into her ear, who had seduced Eve with silvered lies, who had crushed Adam without a second thought, who had hurt Adam and made him cry as if their friendship meant nothing to him.

Lucifer, who had toppled humanity from grace and then had the gall to humiliate Adam before all of Hell, like he was nothing and now here he stood, demanding something of him? Threatening him?

Adam’s blood boiled and without thinking, Adam shoved Lucifer hard, making him stumble back a few steps.

"Buzz off!" Adam snarled, voice rising, venom dripping from every word. "I’m sick of seeing your face! I’m sick of hearing your voice! It's driving me crazy, it's disgusting!"

Lucifer’s eyes widened slightly, stunned by the outburst, but Adam wasn’t done.

"I don't owe you anything!" Adam shouted. His wings trembled with rage behind him, scattering leaves from the trees. "I’m not falling for your lies, your games, your tricks! Never again! You claim to love me but guess what! I don’t fucking love you and I never will!”

“So do us both a favour and fuck off!" His chest heaved. "Don't ever come back!"

Spitting the last words out like a curse, Adam spun on his heel and stormed away, fists clenched, heart pounding but his rejection only seemed to ignite something fierce and furious in Lucifer. A winter storm brewed behind him, his icy wings flared wide with a sharp, crackling sound, beating the air like the fury of a frozen hurricane.

"Adam!" Lucifer roared, his voice echoing through the trees like a wrathful god.

Adam turned, just in time to see Lucifer surging forward. His mouth fell open in shock, too slow to react, as Lucifer effortlessly swept him up off the ground, cradling him in his arms like a bride. Adam's legs kicked wildly in disbelief, his hands pushing uselessly at Lucifer’s hard shoulders.

"Put me down!" Adam barked, squirming furiously. "Put me the fuck down, you crazy idiot!"

Lucifer glared at him; teeth bared in a flash of sharp, icy white.

"Shut up for once," Lucifer snapped, "And let me help you!"

Adam barked a harsh, bitter laugh, struggling harder. "Help me?! Help me with what, huh?!" he shouted, thrashing. "I don't need anything from you, you damn frostbitten freak! I hate you! I really fucking hate you!”

Lucifer only rolled his eyes with theatrical exhaustion but said nothing. Adam was still wrestling to free himself, clawing at Lucifer's arms, when, without warning, the ground dropped away. Lucifer kicked off from the ground in one smooth, powerful leap, and the next thing Adam knew, they were airborne.

The world tilted beneath him, the trees shrinking, the silver-glass lake sparkling far below. Adam yelped in sheer terror, the fight leaving him instantly as he scrambled to cling onto Lucifer’s neck for dear life, all pride forgotten, his heart hammered like a trapped bird against his ribs.

Lucifer held him firmly, wings beating a steady, icy rhythm through the night, carrying them higher and higher. Adam buried his face against Lucifer’s shoulder, too terrified to even glare at him anymore, the scent of cold snow and winter stars filling his lungs and somewhere deep inside, despite the betrayal, despite the fury still coiled in his chest, something fragile and aching stirred, reaching out.

Lucifer flew with a grace Adam had never seen before, not like the rigid, sharp flapping of angel wings he remembered from Heaven, but something slower, softer...almost like a butterfly drifting through the endless sky.

Each beat of Lucifer’s massive winter wings was languid and fluid, carrying them higher, gliding as though the air itself bent lovingly around him. His wings shimmered with each movement, spade-shaped patterns glowing like constellations beneath the thin, icy membrane.

Adam couldn’t help but notice it immediately, how different it was, how wrong it was compared to the stiff military precision of angelic flight, but he refused to look at Lucifer’s face. He kept his gaze stubbornly turned away, pressing his lips into a thin line, instead, he risked glancing down and what he saw stole the very breath from his lungs.

The world below was... impossibly beautiful…and so much bigger then anything Adam had ever seen before…

It was as if the land itself had been torn into great jagged pieces, like paper ripped apart, and stitched back together again with threads of golden light. Each piece was its own kingdom, its own breathing world, stitched neatly beside the next.

Directly beneath them stretched the realm of Clubs, Adam’s own land, summer incarnate. Vast, endless emerald forests tangled together with ribbons of sapphire rivers, waterfalls as tall as mountains spilled down in silvery veils, feeding gardens bursting with life, animals roamed freely, glittering birds soared in flocks that painted the skies with colour, and golden sunlight bathed everything in a warm, living glow, it was wild, free, humming with the heartbeat of life itself.

Beyond that, stitched with a fine silver seam, lay Spades, the land of Winter…and Adam guessed that was where Lucifer came from or this Lucifer anyway. Snow stretched endlessly like a soft white ocean, a colossal castle sprawled across the icy fields, made entirely of gleaming crystal, reflecting a thousand broken rainbows. The mountains rose like frozen gods, crowned with sleeping dragons whose breaths curled into mist.

Gentle snowfall drifted down without end, catching on the black pine trees and glimmering like stars fallen to earth. It was haunting and beautiful, a land where silence itself seemed to sing.

Further off, through a weave of sunshine and laughter, bloomed the realm of Hearts, the land of Spring. Rolling meadows sprawled beneath a sky so blue it ached to look at, fields of pink and golden flowers danced in the breeze, their petals spinning like tiny dancers, yellow-bricked roads twisted through cheerful little villages, where elf-like people bustled about, laughter ringing in the air.

Witches in patchwork cloaks zipped across the skies on crooked brooms, trailed by black cats, some with tiny wings, others with twisting horns peeking from their furry heads. The scent of fresh earth and honeyed air was so vivid Adam swore he could taste it.

And finally, stitched along the edge of a fiery crimson horizon, loomed Diamonds, the land of Autumn. A kingdom roared with life and motion, its cobbled streets shining like polished amber. The city buzzed with strange creature-people, fox-eared merchants shouting over glittering market stalls, women with eyes like fireflies laughing over gilded bridges, great hounds with antlers prowling beside knights in rust-red armour.

The scent of roasted chestnuts and gold hung in the air, as if the very air itself was rich, towering above it all was a palace carved from marble the colour of fallen leaves, crowned inspires of gold that caught the setting sun and made it seem ablaze.

Adam gasped aloud, unable to hold it back, his wings twitched against Lucifer’s chest, his heart thudding wildly. He had never seen anything like it, not even Eden, for all its perfection, had looked so heartbreakingly, achingly alive.

For a moment, Adam forgot his rage, his fear, his pride. Forgot the man, Angel or whatever Lucifer had become, holding him aloft, he could only stare, his eyes wide and shining with wonder.

Lucifer descended with a grace that defied the laws of nature, his wings barely stirring the air as they glided toward the shimmering land of Autumn, the realm of Diamonds. Adam felt a stir of curiosity deep within him, his eyes flicking over the figures below. These beings were unlike anything he had ever seen, not human, but something more. Their gazes turned toward the sky, fixed on him and Lucifer, and Adam caught the expressions that flitted across their faces: awe, wonder, and even excitement. The children gasped, their tiny hands pointing eagerly in their direction.

But Adam could barely take it all in before Lucifer’s wings, vast and powerful, cut through the air once more, guiding them toward a towering mansion at the heart of the kingdom. The structure rose like a jagged, opulent spire, sparkling with diamonds embedded in its walls, the light dancing off its faceted surface. At the top of this monumental edifice was a wide platform, open to the sky. It was a palace, yet something about its design had the warmth of a mansion, intimate yet grand. Around it, an imposing fence rose high, guarded by figures dressed in gleaming silver armor etched with diamond patterns, standing watch like silent sentinels.

Lucifer passed effortlessly over them, touching down with barely a sound on the platform that led to an archway, its shape an elegant, perfect diamond. Adam squinted, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Diamond?

“Diamond?” Lucifer’s voice was soft but insistent, as he stepped toward the archway. “Are you there? I need your help, Lils.”

Adam blinked rapidly, the name catching him off guard. Lils? His throat tightened. What was happening? He swallowed, a heavy lump forming there, as a figure appeared in the archway, stepping from the shadows, a presence as inevitable as the coming of dusk. Adam recoiled instinctively, his wings fluttering, a frantic surge of anger rising in him.

“Put me down!” he cried out, his voice sharp, breaking through the air like a whip.

In one swift motion, he wrenched himself free from Lucifer’s hold. His body fell, landing hard on the cold stone below. He barely had time to regain his balance before he jerked away, his chest tight with something between fury and fear.

Lucifer stood still, his arms still outstretched, frozen in shock, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Adam hissed, baring his teeth, his body tensed and ready to flee.

The figure who approached them, slow and deliberate, cast a long shadow across the ground. It was her.

Lilith.

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest. Lilith, the one who had once been his, and who had shattered everything he thought he knew about love, trust, and betrayal. The woman who had hurt him more than anyone else, the one who had run away with Lucifer without a second thought, leaving him broken and alone, his blood boiled at the sight of her.

She was just as breathtaking as she had always been, but in a different way now, something darker, more powerful. Her long hair was no longer the gold he remembered; it had deepened into a smoky orange, streaked with pale gold, like embers glowing in the fading light. Tiny, delicate golden leaves were woven through her hair, shimmering like whispers of autumn itself, her crown of flowers had been replaced with an intricate garland of sticks and pearls, each bead gleaming with the glow of distant stars.

Her wings were vast, larger than Adam’s, smaller than Lucifer’s, curling elegantly like autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze. The colours danced along their edges: rich purples, oranges, and golds, interspersed with diamonds that glinted and sparkled, her skin shimmered as though it had been kissed by moonlight, streaked with faint, glowing diamonds that traced the lines of her arms and legs like delicate jewellery.

Her eyes were a deep, haunting mix of gold and violet, with diamond-shaped pupils that seemed to pierce through Adam’s very soul, she stood taller than both Adam and Lucifer, an ethereal figure, impossibly beautiful, but with an air of dominance that made Adam feel small and vulnerable. She gazed at him with a quiet intensity, as though trying to decipher a puzzle, each moment spent in her presence like the unravelling of something precious, fragile.

Adam’s instincts screamed at him to look away, to hide, to run from her piercing gaze, but he couldn’t. She was naked, as he and Lucifer were, and yet in her presence, the rawness of their vulnerability only deepened the bitter resentment and sadness he felt.

Why? he thought, a fire of hatred burning in his chest. Why would Lucifer bring me to her?

“Something’s wrong with him,” Lucifer muttered harshly, his voice thick with frustration, his six arms crossing over his chest, his eyes were dark with a kind of bitterness Adam hadn’t seen before.

Lilith tilted her head slightly, her lips parting in a soft hum. Her gaze never wavered from Adam, and she slowly approached him, moving with an almost hypnotic fluidity, she knelt down before him, her movements elegant, yet relentless.

Adam instinctively tried to pull away, inching back, his wings flapping in panic. “Don’t touch me!” he hissed, his voice laced with panic and disgust.

But Lilith’s hand shot out with an effortless grace, her fingers cool and unyielding as she caught his chin, lifting his face to meet her gaze.

“He doesn’t remember?” she asked, her voice soft, almost concerned.

Lucifer snarled, stepping forward, his form looming like a storm cloud. “No. He doesn’t!” His voice was tight, raw. “He’s not supposed to come back like this, Lilith, he’s supposed to remember me.”

“I know,” she murmured, her voice almost distant, Lilith blinked slowly, her expression unreadable, her wings flickering gently behind her. “He was meant to return in the same state he was taken.”

“I told you not to make that deal, Lilith. Now look at what’s happened. He doesn’t even remember who he is. He’s in his real body, but his mind…” He trailed off, exhaling sharply, defeated, Lucifer’s frustration boiled over, his hands clenching into fists.

Lilith sighed, the weight of the moment settling over her like a cloud. Her autumn wings fluttered behind her, delicate but powerful.

“They wanted to use a soul,” she said, her voice taking on a softer edge. “To give humanity a soul.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with anger. “No, they wanted to cut corners, instead of creating a soul, building one as they should have, they chose to steal one of the Omega souls. You shouldn’t have agreed to it, Lilith. You didn’t care about the consequences; all you wanted was what you could gain from it.”

“It benefited us all.” Lilith’s gaze flicked briefly to Lucifer, a subtle frown pulling at her lips. “It benefited you, Lucifer.”

“No, it only benefited you,” Lucifer laughed, but the sound was bitter, mocking. “Diamonds never care about anyone but yourselves. It’s always about what you can take, never who you step on to get what you want.”

Lilith’s expression tightened, a flash of anger in her eyes, but she didn’t move. “Adam agreed to it,” she said, her tone firm. “This is not all my fault.”

“Yes, it is.” Lucifer’s icy blue gaze locked on her, his words cutting deep. “He only agreed because you talked him into it, Lilith, you made him believe it was a good idea.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes, a glimmer of amusement, or perhaps something darker, flickering within them.

"It was a good idea, Lucifer. A brilliant idea, in fact," she said softly, her tone almost too calm, too knowing. "We gained so much from the Avatar."

"No, you gained, you gained everything by handing Adam over to the Avatars, using him, experimenting on him, turning him into a human, for what? So, their little project can grow? So, these so-called humans can take form?" He threw his hands up in frustration, Lucifer scoffed, his voice laced with contempt. "What a load of bollocks."

Lilith’s eyes narrowed further, as if she’d been down this road with Lucifer countless times before.

"Spade," she began, her voice dripping with something cold yet strangely affectionate, "You are the soul of wisdom, of action, of conflict, and of power. Do you truly not see the benefits of their humans? At all?"

Lucifer shot her a disbelieving look. "Have you not seen that shit show? Have you not seen what’s happened over there?"

He gestured sharply toward the distant horizon, as if the human world itself was an affront to everything they were. "I know for a fact Eve, Hearts, they’ve been watching. We all have since the Avatars took Clubs. You’ve been watching too, it’s falling apart, the so-called human souls are at war with themselves, give it another century or so, and all of humanity will have killed itself."

Adam flinched, the words striking him like a slap, confusion flashing across his face. He shuffled backward on his backside, drawing his legs closer to himself as he tried to make sense of the strange exchange.

Avatars? What were they talking about? The way Lucifer spoke about humanity... it was dripping with bitterness, as if the very idea of humans disgusted him. What did he mean by Lilith giving the Avatars him?

She gave them Clubs? To borrow his soul for the humans? She had called him, Clubs…

Adam stared, his mind racing as Lilith and Lucifer continued their argument. It was like watching two people who could barely tolerate each other, there was no trace of warmth or affection between them, none of the love or bond one might expect between a married couple but… Lilith had left him for Lucifer, hadn’t she? She had chosen Lucifer, followed him to Hell, had a daughter with him… Adam blinked slowly, feeling a strange weight in his chest as his thoughts began to tangle together.

“Why…?”

He breathed out, his voice cutting through the heated argument, making the two of them pause, their attention turning to him.

"Why are you two arguing so much?" His voice wavered, soft and uncertain. "Don’t you... like, er, love each other? You’re married, with a kid and all that... I thought you’d be... er, happy to see each other?"

Adam winced, feeling foolish as soon as the words left his mouth. The way they stared at him, as if he’d just grown another head, made him feel small, like he was intruding on something much larger than he could comprehend.

Lucifer’s face darkened, and he shot Lilith a sharp, accusing glare.

Lilith merely rolled her eyes, brushing a hand dismissively through the air as if Adam’s question was of no consequence. "He’s confused."

"Clearly! He still has those human memories!" Lucifer bristled, his voice grew sharper, his frustration mounting. "He shouldn’t have them anymore!"

Lilith crossed her six arms in front of her, her posture casual, but her expression betraying a quiet irritation. "I’m aware, Lucifer. Your little tantrum made that quite obvious."

Lucifer’s icy wings beat against the air, sending a sudden chill across the space. Adam gasped as a layer of frost began to form along the floor, creeping like a slow tide. He jerked back instinctively, trying to avoid the ice that was spreading rapidly beneath him.

"Tantrum?!" Lucifer’s voice rose in anger, his teeth bared. "I’m not throwing a tantrum!"

His voice was a growl now, guttural and raw. "The Avatars' little pet project was doomed before they even took Adam’s soul, and it’s worse that they used our likeness to manipulate him! You saw what they did to him, used our faces, they mimicked our souls! They twisted him like a doll."

Lilith’s gaze flicked briefly to the spreading ice; her expression cool, unfazed. "Yes, Lucifer. They asked permission, and I gave it."

"You what?!" Lucifer’s voice cracked with disbelief. "Why would you do that?!"

“Because they had failed three times before.” Lilith regarded him with a long, steady stare, her gaze unreadable. "The soul of Clubs represents birth, life, creation, it wasn’t planting the seeds like they had hoped.”

“They were trying one last time to have Clubs react as they wanted.” She spoke calmly. “They suspected if they were able to mimic our likeness and project it onto their humans, it might help ease the soul of Clubs into its new vessel, so to speak."

Lucifer’s face twisted with disgust. "They made the first human ‘wife’ look like you."

"I have no such connections, and so, it meant nothing to me." Lilith shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was nothing. “I am no mate of Clubs and Clubs have no desire to mate with me either.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed in fury. "Hearts agreed to have her likeness used for the second wife human?" His voice was thick with anger.

"I know," Lilith replied casually, almost bored. "It is no concern of mine."

"The Avatars requested permission to use our likeness, and I granted it," she continued, her tone smooth, like she was recounting some trivial matter. "It worked. The soul of Clubs birthed the humans they desired so much."

Lucifer’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "And my likeness was used to create someone who hurt him. Clubs is my mate, my lifetime partner. Why wouldn’t they just mimic my likeness to make the human husband or wife? That would have probably worked better!"

"The Avatars spoke of a new biology, something about man and woman.” Lilith rolled her shoulders in an exaggerated motion, her expression a mix of indifference and mild amusement. Our biology doesn’t follow, as humans, neither Clubs nor Spade would have been able to breed."

She tilted her head slightly, watching Lucifer’s frustration grow. "Why are you so upset, Lucifer? The Avatars made you one of the most powerful beings in their little project. They called you an Angel, or an Archangel, they say that is very powerful. It’s still in line with you, as Spade is on top, being more powerful than Diamonds, Hearts, and Clubs."

Lucifer hissed, his teeth flashing in a snarl. "They didn’t even make that clone a lover to him! They made him hurt him! We’ve already bred and that wasn’t right!"

“Yes, your precious egg.” Lilith clicked her tongue, eyes glinted with something like amusement, but there was no kindness in it. "It has no hatched yet, calm down, you still have time.”

Lucifer’s fury grew, his wings beginning to churn with icy winds. “How dare you.”

"You are being so dramatic, Spade," Lilith continued, almost lazily. "You have your precious Club back. He has been returned as the Avatars promised, once he died, he would be released from their project and returned to his true body. He has come back to you, hasn’t he?"

Lucifer glared at her with a dark, bitter intensity. "Not all of him has come back."

"Be grateful you have him back at all." Lilith regarded him with an unimpressed gaze, as if his words meant little.

Adam touched the side of his head, he could feel the begin of a headache starting. He was just so confused.

~#~

Adam was exhausted, adrift in a sea of confusion, his head pounding so fiercely it turned his stomach. His club-shaped wings fluttered restlessly behind him, opening wide like a great, fragile butterfly, only to fold again like a book shutting against his spine, again and again they stirred, restless, unsettled.

He had returned, no, been returned, to what Lucifer called the Land of Clubs, his forest. A realm that seemed the very heart of summer itself: lush, radiant, brimming with life, the breath of Mother Nature thickened every corner, a symphony of green and gold, of flowers and beasts, all belonging to the Clubs. And he, somehow, was their King, or Queen, depending on what tide he chose to sail, it was all so dizzyingly strange.

Adam leaned heavily against the broad trunk of an ancient tree, its soft branches cradling his weary head. Stretching out his legs before him, he stared down at his toes, before raising his four hands to his face, watching as delicate flowers and vines wove themselves around his wrists, blooming from his very being.

He didn’t know what to feel, everything was too raw, too loud, too overwhelming. Why? How?

Lilith, the true Lilith, was apparently the Soul of Diamonds, and it was she who had struck a deal with the Avatars, surrendering the Soul of Clubs for their great experiment, for the birth of humanity.

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the human Lilith, how he had tried to love her, to bridge a gap he could never quite cross. She had found him clingy, smothering, too heavy a chain and yet he had only ever been... lost but that Lilith was never truly Lilith. Just a reflection, a whisper of the real Queen of Diamonds, shaped by unseen hands to nudge him along a path he never chose.

Even Eve, sweet Eve, was born of the same deception, not merely crafted out of loneliness when Lilith fled, but shaped in the likeness of another: the Queen of Hearts. All of it, all of it, had been a cruel, elaborate stage play.

Adam groaned lowly, burying his face beneath his four hands, the movement still foreign but becoming easier now, even his body was strange to him. The flood of truth churned in his mind, dragging him into a whirlpool of questions.

Who was he, truly? Why could he remember his human life but not the one before? Was he ever anything more than a pawn?

"Adam?"

The voice came from above, soft but resonant, pulling Adam from the hurricane of his thoughts. Lucifer had come again. Adam lowered his hands slowly, fingers digging into his skin as he peered up and there he was, Lucifer Morningstar, if that was even his name anymore.

Lucifer was... different here, not the tempter, not the king of Hell, but something older, something truer. His mate, apparently, his mirror, the Spade to his Club.

Lucifer’s massive, spade-shaped wings shimmered as he landed lightly before Adam, scattering tiny flurries of frost like silver dust, his blue eyes glowed faintly as he tilted his head, surveying Adam with a small, crooked smile.

"Good morning... or evening? I’m never quite sure what humans call this hour," he said warmly. "How are you feeling, Adam?"

"I don't remember anything," Adam answered bluntly, eyeing Lucifer warily, part of him still expected this all to shatter, to reveal itself as some cruel joke.

Lucifer’s smile faltered slightly, a flicker of pain passing through his eyes before he masked it. Gently, he crouched down to Adam’s level, folding his legs beneath him with an effortless grace.

"I'm not asking you to," he said, voice as soft as the snow drifting from his wings.

"Right," Adam muttered, drawing his hands away as Lucifer reached for them. "Sounds about right."

Lucifer sighed, a low, almost sorrowful sound. "I know it’s overwhelming. I know it’s hard."

"You know? You really think you know?" Adam gave a sharp, humourless laugh.

Lucifer's lips curled into a faint, crooked smile. "More than you realize. I wasn't lying when I said we watched, I saw what the Avatars did to you... we all did."

Adam stared at him, something wounded flickering behind his gaze, he bit his bottom lip, uncertain, wary.

"Then... what are you saying?"

Lucifer shifted closer, the snow around him whispering against the ground. His voice dropped lower, more intimate.

"I saw it. I saw what happened in Eden," he murmured.

Adam stiffened at the name of his lost garden, his hands clenching.

"I saw what they made of you... what they made of me." Lucifer glanced aside, troubled. "It wasn't really me, Adam. It was... a shadow, a shell of who I truly am, twisted to guide you down the path they needed."

He shook his head slowly, snow cascading from his wings like fallen stars. "Lilith, Eve... even the serpent... none of it was what you thought it was, they were echoes. Ghosts, built from our faces to shape you."

Adam listened, heart pounding hard enough that he could barely breathe. This Lucifer... there was something heartbreakingly real about him. His voice slid through Adam’s ears like velvet, sweet and aching.

"I... think I understand," Adam whispered hoarsely. "No, not really but... you’re not him. You're not the Lucifer I remember."

Lucifer’s gaze softened, like mist parting for the dawn. "I would never have hurt you," he said fiercely, reaching for Adam again, this time, Adam let him.

Lucifer’s six hands enfolded his four, the last set of hands cupping Adam’s cheeks so tenderly it almost broke him.

"I saw what that version of me did," Lucifer whispered, anguish threading his voice. "I saw the betrayal, the lies, I don't know why he did it. But I am sorry, because he was shaped in my image... because of how deeply you loved me."

Adam’s breath caught. Loved him? Had he?

Lucifer traced slow, feather-light circles over the spade-shaped marks on Adam’s cheeks.

"He was made because of me," Lucifer continued softly. "And because of how much you loved me, they knew you'd follow him."

Adam’s heart was a drum in his chest, frantic and unsure. Was he falling in love again? Was it real? He barely heard his own voice as he asked, "Are we... truly in love?"

Lucifer smiled sadly. "We are more than that, Adam, we are bonded. We are the endless cycle of life itself, you are Summer, growth, life, birth and I am Winter, rest, death, renewal. You and I... we complete each other."

"I don't remember, I don't... remember anything before Eden.” Adam sniffled, overwhelmed, lowering his gaze. “I don't remember being the Soul of Clubs."

Lucifer’s smile faltered into a quiet, pained frown. "You weren't supposed to forget, when the Avatars were done... you were supposed to come home, whole."

"When you died, you should have returned to me," Lucifer whispered, voice trembling. "You should have remembered."

Adam hiccupped, the tears finally spilling over. "You don't understand. You don't get it."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his whole-body trembling. "None of it was real. None of it. Eden, Lilith, Eve... even me. It was all just a lie, a tool."

Lucifer moved closer, arms wrapping around Adam as though to shield him from the truth. "No, no, Adam, listen to me," he pleaded. "You are real, you were always real. They used you, yes, but that doesn't mean you were any less important. You are the heart of life itself, the Soul of Clubs."

But Adam couldn't stop crying, because if all this was true, if everything he had known was a carefully orchestrated lie, then who was he, really? Nothing more than a seed, planted for someone else's harvest.

Lucifer said nothing at first, he only moved, slow and sure, wrapping his arms around Adam. His embrace was warm despite the shimmer of frost that clung to his skin, with a heavy sigh, Lucifer’s massive spade-shaped wings unfolded behind him, dark and glistening like velvet night skies dusted with starlight. They opened wide, curling protectively around Adam, and in answer, Adam's own club-shaped wings twitched and slowly spread, as if drawn to the rhythm of Lucifer’s heart.

A soft gasp escaped Adam's lips, he tilted his head back, his watery green eyes meeting Lucifer’s glowing blue ones just as a shimmer of life danced between their wings, little flickers of green and blue arcing and weaving like tiny spirits, threading them together. Their wings pulsed, alive, resonating like the chords of a forgotten song.

Lucifer smiled, his expression tender and heartbreakingly soft. He lifted one hand, his thumb caressing the tear-streaked flush of Adam’s cheek, he leaned in, his voice no more than a warm whisper in the hush between them.

"See?" he breathed. "You feel that? It's our wings... they match up perfectly. That proves we're meant to be together."

Adam's chest tightened; more tears spilled over, his heart too full and too broken at once. He nodded weakly, unable to speak, and with a choked sob, he pushed his face into the curve of Lucifer's shoulder. Lucifer’s arms tightened, pulling him closer, until no space was left between them. He stayed that way, patient and steady, rocking Adam gently in the silence of the forest, his wings wrapped around them both like a cathedral.

Lucifer only spoke again when Adam’s tears had slowed into soft sniffles. His voice was low, soothing, careful as a kiss.

"I know you don’t trust me... not fully," he murmured. "And you have every right to be suspicious. It’s a lot to ask... to believe the Lilith and Eve you knew weren’t truly them, I know it hurts."

He paused, pressing a soft kiss into Adam’s hair. "Dimond and Hearts were first... they were part of us long before mankind was even a thought, and they loved you, at least, Hearts did." He gave a soft, almost sad chuckle. "Dimond... well, I don't think she's capable of loving anyone but herself."

Lucifer pulled back slightly, enough to catch Adam’s glassy gaze, his eyes burned with sincerity, clear as winter lakes.

"But me?" he whispered. "I love you. I adore you more than anything in all the realms, you were never just a tool to me, Adam, you are... everything."

Adam’s throat worked silently, he didn’t know what to say, but he clutched at Lucifer’s arms tighter, like he was afraid he might disappear if he let go.

"I know," Lucifer went on gently, "it’ll take time to separate the two Lucifers in your heart. The one you remember... and me. The real me, the one who has always loved you, long before Eden... long before even the stars were born."

He pulled Adam's four trembling hands into his own, cradling them like they were the most precious things in all existence.

"Just... trust me a little," Lucifer whispered. "Come with me, come see my home, the land of Spades, visit the Castle."

Adam sniffled, rubbing at his sore eyes, he looked up uncertainly. "The Ice Castle?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes, our castle…” Lucifer's face lit up with a dazzling grin, so bright it made the frosted leaves around them sparkle, he nodded eagerly. “Your castle too, if you want it."

He rose fluidly to his feet, his black wings stretching even wider, scattering snowflakes from their tips, still holding Adam’s hands, he gently urged him up as well. Adam stumbled slightly, unsteady in this strange new body, but Lucifer steadied him with a hand on his lower back.

Lucifer winked playfully, the old mischief glinting in his otherworldly gaze. "I’ll even teach you how to use your wings properly again, how to really fly."

Adam gave a small, broken laugh, the first real laugh he had managed since arriving in this new, overwhelming world. He looked at his club-shaped wings, feeling them shiver in the cool air, feeling the thrum where they touched Lucifer's own.

"I... I miss flying," Adam admitted softly, almost shyly.

Lucifer's smile turned tender again.

"Then let’s get you back to the sky, my summer prince," he said, voice like a promise, wrapping Adam's hands up in his own as they stood beneath the pale sunlight, surrounded by falling snow and the silent, humming heartbeat of two souls reuniting.

~#~

"Alright," Lucifer beamed, his skin shimmering like frost spun from the first breath of winter. "You open them... like this."

Adam stared, eyebrows lifting high into the soft wildness of his honey-and-oak hair. He watched, entranced, as Lucifer’s great spade-shaped wings unfurled with effortless grace, opening like the petals of some rare, midnight flower, they gleamed, each feather catching the light like shards of enchanted ice.

Adam chewed his bottom lip, his green eyes narrowing in concentration, he turned his focus inward, to the warmth buzzing faintly across his back. He willed his own wings to open, but instead they jerked awkwardly, knocking against his shoulders before snapping shut again with a sharp, embarrassed snap.

"Ah," Lucifer blinked, wide-eyed, his lips twitching with the effort of stifling laughter. "It's alright, truly. Just try again, slowly, carefully, focus on the fluttering under your skin, right here," he murmured, stepping closer.

Lucifer’s six hands moved in delicate unison, the tips of his fingers ghosting up Adam's arms in a touch so light it barely stirred the air.

"It feels like that..." he whispered.

"Oh..." Adam breathed.

Adam swallowed hard as goosebumps prickled across his skin where Lucifer had touched him, he rubbed his arms where the sensation lingered, like the fading brush of butterfly wings, so it would feel like that, the fluttering, under his shoulder blades?

Drawing a slow breath, Adam closed his eyes, he tried, tried so hard, to ignore the heavy weight of Lucifer’s stare. The Lucifer from Before had watched him, yes, but not like this, not with this raw, searing focus that made Adam’s chest tighten and his heart stutter, this Lucifer drank him in shamelessly, like Adam was the only thing in existence.

He would just have to...deal with it, he turned his mind inward, seeking that elusive flutter...

"I don't feel it," Adam whispered, his voice wobbling. His lips trembled, beginning to tilt downward.

Don't cry, don't cry, he begged himself. He was tired of tears. "I can't find it."

Lucifer blinked slowly, like an owl regarding something precious and fragile. He tilted his head with aching softness, his sweet blue lips parting, he smiled, a small, tender thing, and rose up onto the tips of his toes, leaning in close.

Adam’s breath caught sharply. Lucifer was so near that their lips nearly brushed, separated by a mere breath of space. He could feel Lucifer’s cool breath fanning over his own trembling mouth, and he blushed, not red, but green, the colour of fresh shoots after rain.

Lucifer purred warmly, his voice like velvet. "Turn around for me, Addie~"

"W-What?" Adam stammered, shivering.

"Turn around," Lucifer repeated, his voice a teasing lilt, twirling a finger in a lazy spiral. "Please~"

Swallowing hard, Adam turned, the tips of his ears burning green. He desperately hoped Lucifer hadn't seen how his skin had changed colour, but of course, Lucifer had seen everything.

Lucifer’s heart softened further. How he loved Adam, more than words could ever carry. He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, his long white lashes fluttering like snow moths, before opening them again to drink in the sight of him, his gaze wandered reverently down the elegant slope of Adam’s spine, lingering a little too long on the soft curve of his backside.

Lucifer stepped closer, his very presence exuding the cold hush of winter, Adam gasped when he felt it, trembling. Lucifer grinned and leaned in, purposefully blowing a stream of icy air along the nape of Adam’s neck.

"W-What are you doing?" Adam squeaked, beginning to turn back around.

"No, stay," Lucifer murmured.

Two sets of hands gently anchored Adam’s hips, while another pair curled over his shoulders, steadying him, the final pair skimmed down his back, tracing the tender slope of his spine.

Adam stiffened, green eyes wide as saucers. Six hands... touching him all at once... it was, it was a lot.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, he told himself feverishly. Focus on anything else...

Lucifer’s breath was a whisper against his skin. "That fluttering I spoke of," he said, his voice dripping like honey into Adam’s ears, "It’s right here..."

His fingertips slid with maddening softness along Adam’s back, stopping just beneath his shoulder blades, with a careful, deliberate touch, he pressed.

A startled gasp ripped from Adam’s throat, his face flushed an even deeper green as his club-shaped wings jerked open and fluttered wildly, out of control.

Lucifer chuckled, a low, delighted sound, and repeated the motion, tracing gentle circles beneath Adam’s wing bones. His lower hands still held Adam’s hips steady, squeezing and stroking with quiet possessiveness, grounding him as his wings continued to tremble and unfurl.

Adam’s breath came in shaky little gasps, his whole body thrumming under Lucifer’s many careful touches, it was overwhelming, terrifying, and yet impossibly sweet.

"Okay?" Lucifer purred, rising onto the tips of his toes once more, he leaned in, his breath cool as winter mist as he deliberately blew along the curve of Adam's neck, making him shiver.

"You feel it now, don't you? That fluttering," he whispered, voice like velvet. "Your wings are stirring, even if you can't control them yet, you should feel the tension, the strain right here, just beneath the bone. That soft flutter I told you about."

Adam nodded dumbly, his voice catching. "Y-Yeah, um..."

Lucifer tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Adam’s face. With a playful gleam in his eye, he reached out and gently pinched the tender space under Adam’s wing bone and Adam let out a startled, broken whine.

"Please stop," Adam gasped, covering his face with both hands. "It feels too..."

"Unhuman," Lucifer finished smoothly, chuckling as he withdrew his hands and stepped back, far too pleased with himself, he adored Adam's reactions, they were so wonderfully, painfully familiar. "You wouldn’t have felt anything like that in the Avatars' domain."

Adam's knees gave a soft buckle as he turned shakily to face Lucifer again. Peeking through his fingers, his green eyes wide, he rasped, "Did... did we used to do that a lot?"

"Hmm," Lucifer hummed, the sound thick with affection. A dreamy, almost starry smile curled his lips. "All the time, we're mated, Adam. We did things far more intimate than just that."

Adam shuddered, fighting the urge to crumple into himself. His heart thudded unsteadily, and he opened his mouth, then closed it again, managing only a soft, helpless little noise as he scrubbed his hands over his burning face.

He had never felt anything like that before, the thought gnawed at him: What other... things did being mated mean?

Lucifer’s voice softened, coaxing him gently. "Can you feel the flutter now?" he asked, his own cheeks dusted with a shy, faint blush, the urge to kiss Adam, to claim him all over again, sang through Lucifer’s veins, but he held himself back, barely.

"Fluttering..." Adam echoed weakly.

Yes…yes, he could feel it now. A delicate, alien sensation thrumming under his shoulder blades, over bones and muscles he never remembered having when he was human, strange new parts of himself, awakening.

"That's perfect!" Lucifer beamed, pure joy lighting up his face, two of his hands reached out, tender, insistent, and hooked around Adam’s wrists, gently pulling his hands away from his face.

"Don’t hide from me, my heart," he murmured. "I love seeing you. Every look, every little expression you make, they make me happier than you can imagine."

Adam bit the inside of his lip hard, holding back another whimper, the instinct to curl inwards, to vanish, clawed at him but somehow, somehow, he resisted it this time.

"O-Okay... fine," he stammered, voice shaking, he took a trembling breath, forcing himself to meet Lucifer’s shining, patient eyes. "W-What... what do we do now?"

"Good," Lucifer purred, his voice dipping lower, softer, brushing against Adam’s ears like velvet mist. "Now, come closer," he coaxed, the pads of his fingers, six hands, six ghost-light touches, resting warmly against Adam’s bare skin.

Adam shivered as Lucifer’s hands found his hips again, gently coaxing him forward, guiding him closer until their bodies almost touched. The space between them thinned, until even breath would have been enough to bridge it.

"Bring your hips to mine," Lucifer whispered, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in his frozen blue eyes. "Line up with me... just like that. Good boy~"

Adam’s breath hitched sharply, the cold sweetness of winter curling against his skin, making it pebble with goosebumps. His heart thudded wildly against his ribs, loud enough he feared Lucifer could hear it.

Lucifer smiled, oh, he knew exactly what he was doing and leaned in closer still, murmuring like a prayer against Adam's lips.

"Now arch your back... shoulders back, hips forward. Feel it, feel how your body knows this, even if your mind protests."

Adam’s green eyes widened, trembling like leaves kissed by a storm. A faint blush, that tell-tale flush of green, dusted his cheeks and the flowers braided into his honey-oak hair quivered, shy and unsure. Yet, when he obeyed, arching just as Lucifer instructed, that fluttering inside him unfurled wider, stronger, until it felt like a pulse beneath his skin, under his bones.

Lucifer’s own vast, spade-shaped wings opened and folded with slow, deliberate grace in front of them. He tilted his head, a silent signal, and Adam clumsily mirrored him, his smaller club-shaped wings twitching and stuttering in their motion.

"Good," Lucifer praised, voice dripping with pride and sweetness, he bent his legs slightly, brushing his knees against Adam’s, knocking them together with playful intimacy. "Bend your knees, press down with the balls of your feet... then spring, light as a whisper, up onto your toes."

Adam swallowed thickly, his whole body alive with nerves, with the whisper of power flickering under his skin, his knees bent, his heels lifted, and when he sprung up onto the tips of his toes, just as Lucifer said, his wings shuddered, gliding back and forth without him even thinking.

"Don't fight the flutter," Lucifer cooed, slipping even closer. "Let your body follow it, not your mind. It’s supposed to feel..."

He chuckled, low and wicked, seeing Adam’s growing blush. "That good."

Adam’s face flamed greener still, the flowers in his hair shuddering violently. He wanted to argue, wanted to claim Lucifer was teasing him, but when he followed the sensation, surrendering to it, his club-shaped wings lifted him tenderly from the ground.

A startled gasp tore from his lips as his toes left the earth, his body trembling with the strange thrill of floating, his eyes widened, glowing faintly, their green shining with disbelief.

Lucifer stayed below him, his six hands lifted gently upward, hovering close, ready to catch him if he faltered, his wings shifted slowly, a soothing rhythm in the air, as he watched Adam sway above him.

"That's it, Adam," he encouraged, his voice warm and bright with pride. "You're doing it~"

Adam hovered unsteadily, swaying in the open air like a petal caught on the breeze, a gasp shuddered out of him when he felt himself starting to dip downward, tipping headfirst, but before fear could snatch him, Lucifer caught one of his hands firmly.

Lucifer’s wings beat once, powerful and slow, lifting himself upward alongside Adam with no effort at all.

"You're okay," Lucifer soothed, pressing his forehead gently against Adam’s, their skin met in a cool, tender kiss, the world around them briefly shrinking down to just the two of them, suspended together in the frozen stillness of the sky.

"Don't let your brain trick you," Lucifer murmured against his skin. "The only way you’ll fall is if you think you will."

Adam’s green eyes widened even more, his breath escaping in a soft, broken laugh, half panic, half awe.

Lucifer giggled, a sound so sweet, so full of life, and fluttered his wings playfully, circling Adam in the air. Adam clumsily twisted to follow, and for a moment, they spun together like two butterflies tangled in a slow, dreamy dance.

High above the ground, between breaths and heartbeats, a new bond wove itself tighter between them, unseen but unbreakable.

"I really do love you, Adam."

Adam shyly looked away...

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #fanficiton #au #adam x lucifer #Tarot Love #Tarot Love AU

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