#{ you whispered and now you have to sit down and think about your life }

[ochacoca]

MY GOOD-LOOKING BOY

now playing ♫ good looking by suki waterhouse

IN WHICH you take care of your boyfriend who turns into an absolute toddler when he's ill.

wordcount: 753 words + text messages

timeskip!oikawa x reader

You knew that the minute Oikawa started complaining about his sore throat that it was over. You could officially say goodbye to your freedom. All of your weekend plans had to be canceled so you can take care of your fully grown boyfriend who has transformed into a helpless, miserable baby.

And of course if he went down, you had to go down too. ‘We're a package deal’ He would say. What an excuse.

When you walked into the house you were met with the sound of groaning and the sight of Tōru looking extremely pale with a mix of green with a reddened nose. He looked like Rudolph. “Help me.” He said dramatically reaching out to you as if he was about to take his final breath, his voice filled with congestion and two octaves lower than his usual tone.

You barely had time to set down the plastic bag from the counter before he crashed onto you with a grunting sound. He loosely wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. “Why did you get out of bed?” You asked as you leaned back slightly, pressing your hand on his forehead to check his temperature. Still burning hot.

“You were taking too long.” He mumbled, leaning his body impossibly furthur onto yours. You sighed and grabbed his arm, slowly guiding him upstairs to his bedroom.

“I thought you were never coming.” He muttered under his breath, speaking so lowly because of his sore throat. You couldn't help but laugh at him.

“I only took for 20 minutes.” You reasoned, struggling to keep him up as he leaned onto you with all of his deadweight.

“20 minutes too long.”

Once you arrived, he plopped down on the bed and stretched his limbs everywhere, taking every blanket his could find and stacking them ontop of him.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, already knowing the answer. You brushed his bangs back on his sweaty forehead, slightly pouting at your boyfriend's sicken state.

He grumbled and turned over on his bed, wrapping his arms around himself. “I think I'm dying.” He croaked out.

You scoffed and playfully rolled your eyes. “Quit being so dramatic, youre not dying.” You said as you fixed his position on the bed. “You have a fever.”

“Google told me I have 3 days.”

You jaw slightly dropped. “You trust google more than your pre-med partner?”

“Yes.”

“Tōru!”

“I'm SCARED.”

You tried to fight off the smile the made its way onto your face but you couldn't help it. He could be so annoying when he was sick, but he could be so adorable as well.

You grabbed the medicine and the water you bought from the store. Pouring some pills into your hand, you handed it to him and unscrewed the water cap for him. He reluctantly took the medicine then laid back on the bed after it went down. You placed a wet cloth on his forehead in hopes it'll settle his fever before the medicine kicks in. “Now rest. You really do look like you’re dying.”

He grumbled in response but did as he was told. He was fading out quickly. His eyelids were threatening to shut as he forced himself to keep them open and his cheeks were flushed pink from the fever. Tōru grabbed your hand and held it tightly against his chest.

“I love you so much,” He said drowsily. His eyelids were drooping and he seemed as if he was fading in and out of sleep. “The love of my life. My future nurse. My guardian angel.”

You shook your head and gave a short laugh. “You're just saying that cause I'm taking care of you.”

“Maybe,” He mumbled. “but it's still the truth.” He shut his eyes and stuffed himself further in his blankets.

You continued to sit on the edge of the bed, slightly pressing your body against his. Your hand found its way to his hair, brushing the brown locks back while your hand lingered for a seconds longer than it should've.

“My good looking boy.” You whispered softly as you gently played with his hair. “Still cute even when you're sick.”

A small smile etched its way onto his face. “Especially when I'm sick.” He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You laughed then pressed a kiss onto his fevered temple.

“Yeah. Especially then.”

requested by @miiikooooooo !

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

[engie-ivy]

690 words.

Remus could never date Sirius’ ex.

Sirius’ Ex

“Isn't this… I dunno, crossing a line?” Sirius asks hesitantly.

“Nah,” James waves his hand. “Moony and I used to spy on your dates with Dearborn all the time.”

“You what?”

James scrunches up his nose. “Yeah, those are some hours of my life I'm never going to get back. Godric, your dates were boring.”

Really, the juiciest thing they got out of those spy-sessions was a goodbye kiss that lacked any passion. And Remus was always in a bad mood when they went spying on Sirius’ dates, so it was never much fun.

“Well,” Sirius says pointedly. “Excuse me for boring you while you were spying on me.”

“No worries,” James says easily, ignoring Sirius’ sarcasm. “Though it's a good thing you and Dearborn broke up, you two had zero chemistry.”

“True,” Sirius acknowledges, making a face remembering those dates.

“Well, let's see if we get more juice spying on Remus’ date!”

“Remus did say he and Fenwick are only hanging out as friends,” Sirius says, sounding a tad insecure.

“Let's find out if our Moony was telling the truth then, shall we?” James suggests, throwing the invisibility cloak over Sirius and himself with practiced ease.

Remus was telling the truth.

The whole thing definitely has a ‘two friends getting a drink’ vibe, no ‘first date’ vibe at all. James is already bored out of his mind having listened to Remus and Fenwick discussing their latest Potions assignment for the last twenty minutes, but Sirius and he are silently sitting at the corner of the table tucked away under the invisibility cloak, and they can't possibly leave without being noticed.

“So, guess what?” Fenwick says, placing their second round of butterbeer in front of Remus.

“Ah, you're finally going to tell me the big news?” Remus asks, picking up his mug and taking a sip.

Fenwick arches his eyebrow. “You're not one for guessing, are you?”

“Out with it, Benjy.”

Fenwick grins broadly. “I've got a date tomorrow!”

So definitely just friends, James thinks.

“You do?” Remus puts down his mug. “With whom?”

“Caradoc Dearborn,” Fenwick practically beams.

James quickly glances over at Sirius, but his expression hasn't changed.

“Dearborn?” Remus asks. “Sirius’ ex?”

“Among other things,” Fenwick replies dryly, taking a sip from his butterbeer. “But he says both he and Sirius are absolutely fine with the other dating other people.”

Remus shakes his head. “Still, I could never date Sirius’ ex.”

James notices how, now that the hypothetical situation of Remus dating Sirius’ ex is mentioned, a slight frown has appeared on Sirius’ face.

“Well, I'm not as close to Black as you are,” Fenwick reasons. “And besides, we're all seventh year Gryffindors, it would make things way too difficult if we can't date each other's exes.”

“Not just that,” Remus says. “I mean being the one who comes after Sirius. Being compared to Sirius.”

“I guess some comparison is inevitable,” Fenwick shrugs. “But it'll be fine. Caradoc and Sirius broke up for a reason, after all.”

“Still, I couldn't take the idea alone of potentially being compared to Sirius Black in a relationship,” Remus insists. “Sirius is just so… you know.”

“Eh, not really,” Fenwick says.

“So… perfect, I guess.” Remus sighs. “He's of course ridiculously good-looking,” he continues. “Merlin, those eyes and that hair… But besides that, he's so smart and talented, always top of the class! And he's utterly charming, but behind that charm, there's so much more. He's brave, of course, great with animals, kind and caring…” Remus trails off.

“Well, well,” Fenwick crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. “I see why you couldn't date Sirius’ ex.”

Remus’ face turns beet red. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he mutters, picking up his butterbeer and trying to hide his face behind his mug.

“So, that turned out to be interesting after all, didn't it, Pads?” James whispers, but as he turns to Sirius and sees the look on his face, he realizes that the next time he goes spying on a date, he'll have to do it on his own.

[wandanatsgf]

Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls

Pairing: Artist!Wanda x Reader

Summary: what starts as you helping a friend with an art project quickly turns into something more

Warning this contains: a little bit of brattiness, praise kink, strap on use

You’re lying on your side, using your left arm to support yourself. A cream colored cloth drapes your figure, forming to your curves. It almost looks like a dress from the way it’s laid across you.

You’re on Wanda’s couch while she stands in front of you, easel and canvas off to the side. She’s covered in white, beige, brown, and black paint. It splatters her body and clothes, leaving her a mess. But that is the life of an artist, at least that’s what she tells you.

“Paint me like one of your French girls, Wanda.” A fake sultry tone laces your voice. You wiggle your eyebrows and bite your lip, making Wanda laugh.

“You know you’re the only girl I paint.” She laughs at your silly antics and shakes her head. Wanda was always doing that, saying pretty words that make your head spin. Words that make you question your friendship, but you were too scared to make any moves. Too scared to lose her.

“Now hold still. I need to get this shape right.” She dips her paintbrush in the paint and makes gentle strokes across the canvas. Her eyes flick back up to you every so often, making sure she’s capturing your likeness just right.

“Move your head up a little bit love,” she says. Love. That’s a nickname shes never called you before. The two of you always playfully flirted with each other, you even teased her sometimes, but she had never called you love. You’re not even sure if she noticed. But you don’t mind the nickname, you rather like it.

“Love huh?”

“I-what?!?” Wanda’s confusion is evident in her voice.

“You called me love.”

“Oh just slipped out. Habit I guess,” she tries to dismiss your question.

“Just slipped out? So you call someone love often?” You try not to let your jealousy be obvious. It’s not like Wanda is your girlfriend. You have no reason to be jealous. You know this, yet you’re jealous anyway.

“You jealous?” Wanda ignores your question entirely.

“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

“You know why. We both know you like me.” Wanda’s words send a shock through you. You always thought your feelings were hidden well, but clearly they weren’t.

“You have no reason to be jealous baby. I like you too,” Wanda whispers like it’s a secret.

This time you’re the one that’s speechless.

“Surprised?” she sets down her brush and walks over to you.

You nod yes, words escaping you at this moment.

“You shouldn’t be. I’ve liked you for a while.” She smiles at you, it’s a teasing sort of smile. The kind that makes you nervous about what’s to come. “Can I kiss you?”

Yoy nods yes and that’s all it takes for her to get up and kiss you. You’re still grasping the cloth that has been covering you like it’s a lifeline. It’s grounding you, making sure you know this is real.

The kiss is fiery and passionate. It’s full of pent up feelings and years of pining.

Wanda sits down on the couch, pulling you on top of her. She takes the cloth from your grip and let’s go, letting the cloth fall down.

“You’re so beautiful,” she says. You blush and try to look away, but Wanda won’t allow that.

“Don’t hide baby. I wanna see you.”

You do as she says, embracing her attention. Your legs are on either side of her hips. You grind down against her and the two of you moan into each others mouths.

Wanda’s lips detach from yours and move down your neck, sucking and biting wherever she can. Her paint covered hands are on either side of your waist, leaving white marks in their wake.

Your hands are wrapped in her hair, pulling her even more against you.

“Is that the best you can do Wands?” Your voice is breathless as you speak. You think she’s doing an amazing job already, but you just can’t help it. You want to tease her. To push her buttons and see what she does.

“Are you always such a teasing little brat?”

“Just for you.” You’re still teasing her, you just can’t help yourself. Even before this you loved teasing her, even if it was in a more safe for work way, why would you stop now?

You grind down against her again, a vulgar moan leaving your mouth.

“Wands,” you pant out.

“What do you want baby? Use your words and tell me.”

“I want you Wanda. Please touch me.”

“I am touching you honey.” To make her point more evident she drags her hands up your sides.

“You know what I mean Wanda.”

“Do I?” Her eyebrow turns up.

“Look who’s being a brat now,” you say under your breath.

Wanda’s right hand immediately leaves your side and wraps around your neck, just resting there.

“You want to say that again baby?” You can feel yourself getting even wetter than you already are at Wanda’s display of dominance. You’re dripping all over her leg.

“No.”

“Good girl.”

“Now what do you want me to do baby?”

“Please touch my pussy.”

“You’re such a good girl. Using your words for me.” Her praise goes straight to your head, making you feel foggy.

Her hand makes its way to your pussy, cupping you. Her middle finger grazes your clit, making you jump.

“That feel good?” She rubs your clit in circles making your hips buck and moans fall from your lips.

You nod, but that’s not good enough for Wanda. She pinches your thigh in reprimand.

“Yes Wanda that feels good.” Your body moves like it has a mind of its own, like someone else is controlling it. But you guess that’s true because Wanda is controlling it, controlling you.

Wanda continues to rub circles on your clit, and you’re sure she’s leaving some paint marks along the way, but you could truly care less.

The harder she rubs the closer you get. The pleasure her fingers are giving you is too good. It makes you wonder if shes this good with her fingers, how good is she with her mouth?

“Oh god,” you say as your orgasm approaches. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me baby,” she says, rubbing you even faster. You cum all over Wanda’s hand, making a mess on her and her pants.

As you settle down you notice the position you’re in and the mess you just made.

“Sorry Wands,” you say, apologizing for the mess.

“Don’t be sorry baby.” She brings her own fingers to her mouth and licks your wetness off them. The sight makes you horny all over again.

“Wanda,” you whine.

“What is it? You need more baby?” her words are full of fake sympathy and you know it, but you could truly care less. You need her in ways that you can’t describe.

“Yes please,” you say.

“Bend over the couch. I’ll be right back,” she says. You bend over the couch and wait for her. She quickly returns with a scarlet red strap on around her hips. It sways as she walks over to you.

“Good girl,” she says once she sees that you’re in position.

She walks behind you and grips the shaft of the strap. She rubs the tip up and down your slit, teasing you.

“Wands stop teasing.” You wiggle your hips to try and get more action from her, but it doesn’t work.

“I can’t tease you but you can tease me? That doesn’t seem fair baby.” She continues to tease you even more, driving you mad.

“Please Wanda. Fuck me,” you yell out.

Wanda slides into you in one single thrust, bottoming out. You moan out, the feeling of her inside you is just too good. Her hands rest on your hips, pulling you back to meet her thrusts.

“Wanda,” you moan.

“I know baby,” she says. She thrusts into you at a lightning fast pace, also chasing her own orgasm. The base of the dildo runs against her clit perfectly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

She continues to fuck into you. Her left hand moves to hold on to your hip while the other tangles itself in your hair, pulling you back.

“Oh god,” you scream out, your orgasm approaching. Your body moves back and forth as she thrusts into you, moving to Wanda’s whims.

“Come on baby. Cum with me,” she says while she continues to thrust into you.

A few more thrusts is all it takes for you to see stars. Your body trembles as your orgasm rolls through you. Wanda’s body trembles too, a powerful orgasm rolling through her.

Once the two of you settle down Wanda carefully slides out of you.

“There you go baby,” she says gently. You slump against the couch, too tired to move so Wanda moves you herself.

She pulls you up to sit next to her on the couch, holding you. The two of you just sit there in silence until you finally break it.

“I’m covered in paint,” you pout, finally noticing the mess Wanda left all over you.

“It’s ok baby. We can just go wash it off together.” Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

You agree, more than excited for what’s to come.

[godjustkys]

male reader x frank castle drabble . . . (all plot, no smut or freaky shit)

“fuck you, man.” you muttered, wiping the blood away from your face as you caught your breath. “i had it.” frank seethed, his boots creaking as he stepped after you, all bloody and beaten as well. “you had it?” you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “if it wasn’t for me, the police would’ve had a great time wiping your brains off of the walls here.” you reasoned, your voice sharp and firm. you placed a hand over your forehead, sighing deeply. one guy had slammed you hard against the wall and you hit your head. you felt a bit dizzy. frank stared at you, not saying a thing. you made eye contact and you held it. eventually, it got.. weird. you placed your hands on your hips, looking at him with a perplexed expression. “what.” you spoke, staying still. “sit down.” he told you, voice rough. “yea? m’fine.” you responded, shifting on your feet. he stepped closer — slowly, deliberately. as if his steps were supposed to be a threat. “sit.” his voice was barely above a whisper, low and rough.

you didn’t budge, of course. like hell you’d be ordered around by a wanted criminal. you saw frank’s fists clench and unclench. someone was getting upset. “back up. police are on your ass like crazy and you still have the gall to act reckless?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you looked into his eyes. his jaw flexed; you swore he was going to lunge at you. attack you. but he seemed to hold himself back with a harsh swallow. frank stepped into your space, close enough for you to smell the iron and sweat clinging to him. “is that it?” he murmured, voice like gravel. “you think i was bein’ reckless?” his eyes burned into yours, dark and intense. “you’re bleeding like a stuffed pig.” he spoke. “you don’t got a damn clue how close you were to being a red stain on that wall. next time you pull a stunt like that, i won’t be savin’ your ass.”

“a stunt like what? oh, the stunt where i saved you from a suicide mission? ah, yes, sue me for not wanting you dead.” you said with a roll of your eyes, relaxing your posture. “you don’t know me.” frank reasoned, completely disregarding the concept of personal space. “do i look like i give a fuck? genuinely.” you started, not backing down. “look into my eyes. tell me where is the big sign that says ‘i wish to know frank castle’.” you mocked, your voice teasing and bordering on annoying. “i don’t care about you, i need your skills.”

“yeah, we’ve been over this. i ain’t working for you.” frank responded to you, his head tilting to the side a bit. “tomato, toma-toh, you’ll come around eventually.” you said with a small shrug of your shoulders. “you keep on wishing.” frank stepped away, turning his back to you. “have you been hanging around that daredevil guy again?” you inquired, making him stop in his tracks. “i’m gonna start thinking he’s making you all soft with his ‘no-killing’ rule.” frank’s shoulders visibly squared. “red ain’t got nothing to do with this.”

“red? isn’t that just adorable. you two on nickname terms already?” you teased with a grin. “no, seriously, frank. stop being so stubborn.” the anger radiating off of frank was immeasurable. “i’m not for hire. i couldn’t care less about what you want.” he spoke, his stance tense and stiff. “i figured you wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows about this.” with a small sigh, you crossed your arms. “though i suppose i don’t need you happy.” frank was losing it. his irritation was skyrocketing. “i can give you the normal life back, frank. no more hiding, no more running. you’d have everything.” you spoke, clearly trying to coax him. “well, besides your family, which i am sorry about.” you added flatly. in a literal second, frank was back in front of you, grabbing the front of your shirt and slamming you against the wall. “this is my life now. stop talking.” he gritted out, his face an inch away from yours. “ooh, you do know i’m into this, right?” you breathed out, not phased at all. though the initial slam hurt your head more than it should’ve. frank didn’t respond, he just kept glaring at you. “as much as i’m enjoying this,” you started, placing a hand over his injured forearm. “don’t get so riled up. you know what i meant, i wasn’t trying to be rude. or insensitive.”

[reesereadsalot]

𝐹𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒶

previous chapter - next chapter

Pairings: Finnick x pregnant!reader

Warnings: TW for child loss. Other than that refer to series masterlist

Desc: Your 7 months pregnant with Finnicks baby. When your the happiest you were in your life, your whole world comes crashing down. You were reaped for the 3rd Quarter Quell.

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

｡𖦹°‧masterlist

a/n: Again TW for child loss.

The gel was sticky. Hard to walk through even. It made a suction sound every step you took. But, it wasn’t poisonous. The group walked for what felt like forever until the goo started to thin out. On the fifth block we could start seeing the roofs of houses. The squad takes cover in one.

When the squad gets to the second floor of the apartment we hear a chain of explosions.

“It wasn’t close,” Jackson assures us. “A good four or five blocks away.”

“Where we left Boggs,” says Leeg 1.

Although no one has made a move toward it, the television flares to life, emitting a high-pitched beeping sound, bringing half the party to its feet. You don’t rise as you are trying to get Ronan to sleep.

“It’s all right!” calls Cressida. “It’s just an emergency broadcast. Every Capitol television is automatically activated for it.”

They play a live feed of them blowing up the houses you were just in. You gasp. Then you watch as you are all pronounced dead. They play the Capitol anthem as they show each of the squads faces. Just like in the Hunger Games. When it shows Finnick he smiles and you shoot him a look that says ‘not the time’. When it shows you, you see a picture of yourself holding Ronan and his name is on there too.

You forgot that he has also been pronounced dead.

District 13 does not intervene which means they think it’s true. District 13 thinks it’s true. The squad is on their own. You are on your own. Ronan only has you and Finnick.

“So, now that we’re dead, what’s our next move?” asks Gale.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Peeta says, finally tearing his gaze away from the windows to look Katniss directly in the eyes. “Our next move . . . is to kill me.”

“No!” You protest.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Jackson, which feels like a rather ironic protest considering she’s the one still holding him at gunpoint. You snort and she shoots you a look.

“I just murdered a member of our squad,” Peeta says steadily, as if his suggestion is only logical.

“You pushed him off you. You couldn’t have known he would trigger the net at that exact spot,” says Finnick.

“Peeta, you couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.” You say bouncing Ronan up and down.

The conversation continues but you enter your own world. Where Ronan is a little boy playing by the water with Finnick as you watch on a beach towel. You occasionally resurface when the squad is eating food or when Finnick is whispering in your ear.

When you finish eating Finnick brings you to a corner to talk to you. You doubt anyone had forgotten about your outburst and your announcement. In the corner of the room, you have Finnick cover you so you can feed Ronan. When he gets a good latch Finnick talks.

“So you are?” Finnick begins “Pregnant, I mean.”

“Unfortunately.” You say with a sad smile.

“Why is that unfortunate?” Asks Finnick.

“Well, we’re here, and we could die. I don’t know if we are going to survive and I don’t want to slow anyone down.” You say.

“We are going to live.” Finnick places a hand on the small of your back. He sits behind you, still covering you from people seeing Ronan eat. “How far along are you?” Finnick asks.

“Ten weeks,” you begin and a ghost of a smile is on your face “I see a little of a bump.” You put your index and thumb close together to indicate how small.

“Can I see?” Finnick asks placing a hand on your belly.

“You don’t need to ask.” You say as he pulls your armor down a bit more and uncovers your belly. Your armor open at the top for easy breast feeding access. He has tears in his eyes.

“I see it.” He says swallowing the lump in his throat.

You pull your armor back up and place Ronan down as he has finished. “We will be okay. I promise.” You say as your thumb draws circles on his cheek and you hold out your pinky. He smiles at you.

“You better keep it.” He says before wrapping his pinky around yours. You smile at him. You can’t help but feel excited for your soon to be family of four after this war.

You escape to your own world where your family is now a family of four not three. And you all play in the water.

You wake up to the whisper.

“Katniss”

How did you get here? Where’s Ronan? He’s not in your arms. You begin to panic and look around.

“Y/N, Ronan is right here.” Finnick says and you turn to him.

“Where are we?” You ask Finnick.

“Underground.” He says confused as to why you don’t remember. Then he thinks back and remembers your glossed over eyes. He should’ve known. He silently curses himself.

“Katniss”

Peeta says it along with whatever is whispering it. “Katniss” he mumbles again. Katniss raises her bow at him and you close your eyes, scared as to whats may happen to him. “Katniss!” He screams and you open your eyes. Peeta’s eyes are frantic but there’s no hint of evilness in them. “Katniss! Get out of here!” He yells at her and you stand up.

“Why? What’s making that sound?” Katniss asks and you want to tell her that the squad should leave. Why does everyone lack survival skills here?

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta “Run! Get out! Go!”

Everyone looks around confused before Katniss speaks. “Whatever it is, it’s after me. It might be s good time to split up.”

“But we’re your guard,” says Jackson.

“And your crew,” adds Cressida.

“I’m not leaving you,” Gale says.

Katniss looks at the crew. A lot of the squad doesn’t even have weapons. Katniss suggests that Finnick should give one of his guns to Castor. Eject the blank cartridge from Peeta’s and load it with a real one. She has a hard time deciding who should get the gun. You hope she would choose you but it’s a lost cause. Finnick arms Pollux. Gale and Katniss give their bows to Mesalla and Cressida. Now the only ones without weapons are you and Peeta. You understand why Peeta didn’t get a weapon, but you? You trained for this. You lock eyes with Peeta and shrug. You wrap the cloth that holds Ronan around your belly loosely because they need to leave. You place Ronan in it and you kiss him on the nose. He giggles.

You guess that the mutts are tracking the squad based on scent. Katniss and Pollux work out a plan. They decide that if the squad works swiftly they can reach Snow’s mansion before the mutts reach them.

The squad has covered three blocks with Finnick behind you. He makes sure you keep up the pace by placing a hand at the small of your back and lightly pushing you along. Screams begin and you panic. You try to conceal it but it’s so scary.

“Avoxes,” says Peeta “That’s what Darius sounded like when they tortured him.” Oh right. The torturing they talked about which you blocked out.

“The mutts must have found them,” says Cressida.

“So they’re not just after Katniss,” says Leeg 1.

“They’ll probably kill anyone. It’s just that they won’t stop until they get to her.” Gale says. He is probably right.

Katniss tries to convince everyone to let her go alone but the squad protests.

“Listen,” Peeta says quietly.

The screams have stopped but the mutts continue to whisper “Katniss”

The squad starts to run and so do you. Katniss scans for a possible alternative on the Holo when she starts gagging.

“Masks on!” Jackson orders.

You try to slip Ronan’s on but your shaking hands and his crying doesn’t help. You start to cry.

“Finnick.” You whisper. “Help me please.” Finnick notices what you’re struggling to do and slips on Ronan’s mask. You let out a sigh of relief before slipping on yours too.

We continue on and Katniss orders us to go around a pod.

“Katniss!” Finnick stops Katniss. You turn around.

Mesalla is under golden light that radiates from the ceiling. You watch in horror as he melts like wax. Bile threatens to rise out of your throat but you keep it down.

You round an intersection when you see them. Peacekeepers. Except they aren’t peacekeepers. Katniss yells something but you don’t hear. They look like lizards but white and big.

What is going on? You come back to reality while your climbing a ladder. You look down at Ronan except he’s not there. You look back down the latter to see Finnick and others fighting the mutts. You see Ronan crying on the floor with the cloth that’s supposed to be around you. You start to climb down the ladder. Ronan screams and cries as he thrashes around.

“Finnick, Ronan!” You scream. Finnick notices Ronan but it’s too late. He’s swept up into the mouth of a mutt under the ladder. You kick your boot into the mutts face until it drops Ronan. You grab him quickly and without looking back you scream, Finnick! Come on!” You climb up the latter with your baby in your hands.

Finnick follows you, trident in hand. When you reach the top you turn around and grab onto Finnick’s hand. You feel like you’re being pulled down. You look down to see a mutt has latched its mouth onto Finnick’s foot.

“Finnick!” You scream.

You feel yourself slipping down along with him. You’re clutching Ronan while someone pulls you and Finnick out of the sewers. You keep a tight hand on Finnick.

You hear Katniss whisper as she drops the Holo in the tunnel “Nightlock, Nightlock, Nightlock”. It causes a big explosion that leaves ringing in your ears.

“Finnick!” You sob as you pull Finnick into your arms. You expect to hear another person crying but you don’t. You quickly place Ronan down.

“No!” You scream as you see the big gash in Ronan’s chest. He isn’t breathing. “No, no, no, no, no!” You cry compressing his wound to stop the bleeding. “You’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” You say as tears roll down your cheeks. Finnick comes up next to you.

“Y/N.” He says while tears free fall from his eyes. He tries to pull you off of Ronan but you resist. You meet his sea green eyes now glassy and red.

“No!” You cry. “He’s okay! He’s gonna be okay! He’s going to live!” You sob to Finnick as you start doing compressions on your baby. Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence. He’s going to live. A small pool of blood surrounds him. He is too far gone but you refuse to accept it. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” You repeat over and over as Finnick stares into oblivion. You lean over and throw up your last meal that you had been struggling to keep in. Time freezes. Every memory you have of Ronan plays in your head.

“Y/N.” You hear someone say your name but you’re not listening. Someone tries to pull you back. Tears and blood soak his tiny black armor.

“No!” You scream. “He’s okay!” You say giving him more compressions when you hear a crack.

His ribs.

“No.” You say picking him up. “I can’t. I can’t. It’s all my fault!” You sob. Finnick is still somewhere else. Gale comes beside you.

“Y/N.” He says placing a hand on your bicep that’s covered in your son’s blood. You place him down and curl into a ball around him. “Y/N we have to leave. I’m sorry.” He says.

“Leave him?” You ask him still sobbing.

“Yes, we can’t take him.” He says. It takes everything in you not to slap him across the face. You sit up angrily.

“No! I can’t leave him! No!” You scream as Finnick comes to. He sees Ronan’s dead body and begins to break down. He pulls you into a big hug. You lay your head against his chest. He whispers in your ear.

“We have to leave.” He says to you. He kisses your hair on the top of your head.

“I can’t leave him Finnick!” You sob. “I broke my promise! I’m sorry!”

“We have to.” He strokes your hair. You begin to protest before he interrupts you. “Shh. We have to leave. Ronan wouldn’t want you to give up.” He pulls you out of the hug and wipes your tears. His thumb rubs circles on your cheek.

You kiss him, salt on your tongue from both of your tears. He rubs your stomach as he pulls out of the kiss. You’re reminded of the other life inside of you. You put two protective hands over your stomach. You nod at him, tears still streaming down your face, and stand up.

You pick up Ronan and cradle him in your arms one last time. Touch his face for the last time. A face that could’ve grown into a boy then a man. You lost years of seeing him grow up.

You lay him down in a hidden area. One where nobody—you hope—will find him. You close his sea green eyes with your fingers. You let out a strangled sobbing noise. His hair the same shade as yours ruffles in the wind. Your lip quivers and your hands shake as you kiss his forehead one last time blood smearing on your lips. Finnick is at your side kneeling by Ronan. You look him in the eyes and see Ronan’s. Another strangled noise comes out of you. He strokes Ronan’s cheeks and places a kiss on his noise before covering his body with a blanket. A baby blanket. His favorite—or so you think—one that’s as blue as the ocean and has little darker polka-dots on it.

You find the will to keep going. That’s what Ronan would want.

Then something you aren’t used to sets in you. Anger. No stronger than anger.

Rage.

Chapter 12

[notjustjavierpena]

I read Comfort and felt so bad for Javier not getting a chance to comfort his girl after her nightmare!!!! Can you write hubby comforting Inés after a bad dream? Pls and ty ❤️❤️

Brave

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here’s a little quick thing I wrote for you, anon! Inés loves her father so much, don’t worry! 

Summary: Javier comforts his daughter after a nightmare and they have a little talk about bravery. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, hurt/comfort, nightmares, implied reference to PTSD, fluff, family fluff, healing my own and my readers’ childhood!!!

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65312092

Brave

Javier sleeps with his senses on high alert. It is a habit that he thought he would let pass on after leaving behind Colombia and returning home to Texas. Yet after having kids, he finds that the skill of being aware of his surroundings and listening for any signs of danger has settled in him permanently and even improved significantly since he isn’t just worrying about his own safety anymore. 

So when he hears the tiny feet shuffle down the hallway followed by a sniffle, he is sitting up in bed before he has even registered the command from his brain to his body. Beside him, you stir slightly because of his movements and mumble his name half-asleep. He leans down over you, runs a hand over your head.

“Shh, just go back to sleep, mi amor (my love),” he whispers into your skin after kissing your bare shoulder, “I’ll check on her.”

He says her because he could recognize his daughter’s presence anywhere and from even the tiniest of tells. Exactly like now by just hearing how her soft feet shuffle on the wooden flooring and from the shallow, stuttering sobs of anxiety that have his old heart aching to hold her. A nightmare again, he bets, due to her wild imagination. She has them a lot. 

He swings his legs out over the edge of the bed and plants his feet on the cold floor, the cool temperature forcing him to be fully awake. He thinks for a moment that he wouldn’t even need to be awake to find his way to her. 

The hallway seems longer and scarier as it is only lit up by the sliver of light that comes from the nightlight in Inés’ bedroom. He finds her a few feet from the door to his bedroom, clutching her stuffed Eeyore in her hands like he is the sole protector in the darkness. Her eyes are huge and wet with tears, her bottom lip wobbling as soon as she spots her father. 

“Daddy,” she sobs.

“Inés,” Javier coos when he has closed the door behind him, already moving forward to pick her up. She wraps around him like a koala bear wraps around a tree trunk. Eeyore is squished between the two of them but he doesn’t complain, “¿Qué pasa, monita? (What’s going on, little monkey?)”

“I had a bad dream again,” she sniffles into his neck, and he can feel the warmth of her wet tears on his skin. He hugs her tighter even if it makes her cry more. It is only good that she lets her emotions out if she needs to, “There was a monster chasing me really fast and it had a million eyes looking at me. I couldn’t find you.”

“That sounds really scary, mi vida (my life). I understand why you’re upset,” he kisses her soft hair a few times while she clings to him, “I wish you would have called me or mamá.”

He is already carrying her back to her bedroom. He could have let her sleep between the two of you, but given how often this is an occurrence these days, you and he have talked about reminding her that she’s still safe in her own bed. 

When he crouches down to put her back under the covers, she draws back and wipes her face with the hand holding Eeyore even if it is awkward and his leg nearly pokes at her eye. She heaves for breath as another sob threatens to break free from her chest, “But I didn’t wanna wake you.”

“You can always wake me or mamá if you need us, baby,” he lets her know without hesitation, trying to keep his voice in a tone that tells her that she hasn’t done anything wrong, not even by staying quiet when he wished she’d called for him. 

“I know,” she says, her hands picking at the edges of her pink blanket, “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells her, “Papá just doesn’t want you to be alone when you are scared and upset. It’s okay to need me when things feel too big.”

She gives a tiny nod, “O-okay.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, already moving to stand, “Alright, mi amor (my love). Try to get some sleep now, okay? Buenas no– (Goodnight)”

When he is just about to be back at his full height, she signals that she still needs him by letting the stuffed toy fall to the mattress and pulling at his arm in a silent plea. Her eyes and nose are red and puffy from tears but they’re not wet anymore. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately understands what she wants when she scoots over. 

Javier crawls under the covers with her, making the bed creak underneath him when it is so clearly not made to support the weight of a grown man. Her sheets smell like children’s shampoo and sleep. To a father, they smell like the kind of love that softens any rough edges of his soul. 

With an exaggerated and comical huff, he carefully shifts onto his side to face her. She looks almost shy as she mirrors him and looks at him adoringly. He tugs Eeyore into the crook of her arm, brushes a stand of her hair behind her ear. She drags the covers over their heads with determination.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks in a whisper when they’re in their makeshift den of safety. 

“A little,” she responds with renewed calmness and hugs her toy tightly. She tries to whisper but she’s not very good at it, “It felt like the monster was real but it wasn’t. And– and it felt like you were really gone!”

He nods in understanding, “I know what you mean. I have dreams like that too that feel really real.”

Her eyebrows furrow. He can see the confusion in her eyes, mixing with disbelief that anything could get the better of him, “You have nightmares like mine? But you’re not scared of anything!”

“That’s not true. I get scared sometimes,” he gives her a tired smile, trying not to let her see how he is experiencing a taunting flash of terrible things that his brain has conjured up over the course of his life. Bullets, empty cribs, and blood on his hands, “It’s not fun, huh?”

“No,” she agrees and shakes her head. Absent-mindedly, she reaches for his hand and holds his pinky, “Daddy, what do you do when you have a nightmare?” 

“I try to remember that it isn’t real and nothing bad is going to happen to our family. I’m home and in bed next to mamá,” he answers after a beat where he pretends to think, “If that still doesn’t help, I get up to check on you and your brothers. Sometimes, I try to think about something nice that makes me happy.”

She tightens her grip, stuffs her nose in Eeyore’s blue fur, “Like what?”

He taps his mustache with his index finger, suddenly playful to make her relax more when talking about the harder things, “Hmmm… Pancakes for breakfast. Or you and Lucas jumping on the trampoline. Mommy dancing in the kitchen with Seb.”

The picture makes her giggle and then yawn. Javier feels a warm flash of pride at getting her to be comfortable again and very cute while doing it, watching her sink further into the mattress as she grows tired again. It is hot underneath the pink covers but he powers through for her, if it means her feeling safe and secure. 

They are quiet for a moment. Inés’ eyes start to droop, her breathing slowing down but she’s still not asleep. Instead, she is fighting it and looking like she is turning over every little word of their conversation to make sense of it. After a moment, she crawls into his arms and presses her cheek against his chest. 

“I like being like you, Daddy,” she murmurs softly and Javier’s throat goes tight with emotion. He hadn’t expected the profoundness of those words at three in the morning in a bed full of stuffed animals. 

“You do?” He blinks away tears. 

“Yes, because…” she trails off, trying to piece together her thoughts while he hugs her close and tries to be patient, “If you have dreams like mine… then mine don’t feel so bad. Because you are brave and if I’m like you then I am brave too.”

Javier is speechless for a moment and fills out the silence, busies himself, by reaching up to stroke his daughter’s hair repeatedly. He is sure that his heartbeat can be felt against her little face, that he is one wrong breath away from giving into a sob. He hides it to not make her feel like she has made him upset, but if she were to ask, he would say that her very being is mending something in him that he didn’t know was broken. She is so small, so precious to him that it hurts. It aches so gloriously in his very soul to love someone so deeply.

“You are brave, baby. You’re my brave girl,” he eventually gathers himself enough to reply, “Coming to get me when you had a bad dream? That was brave. Telling me about it? Even braver. Asking me to stay with you? The bravest.”

She draws back to read the sincerity on his face, but then looks down with embarrassment. She fiddles with Eeyore’s ear, “But I cried.”

“Look at me,” he tips her head up again to find her tired brown eyes and there she is, trusting him even when she’s unsure of herself. He can tell she is listening from the way she is watching him, “Crying doesn’t make you not brave, Inés. Crying just means that your heart is working like it should.”

“That’s good,” she agrees thoughtfully. She looks like there’s more she wants to say but she is interrupted by another yawn as sleep deprivation hits her. He takes the opportunity of her tiredness to adjust the covers around them, uncovering them so he can finally breathe in the air of the room again. She shifts beside him to find the perfect spot in his embrace, Eeyore lying between them. 

“What are you thinking about?” Javier whispers to give her a sense of it still just being the two of them even if they’re out in the open land of her bedroom. 

“Can we think about pancakes now?” She inquires. 

“You can dream about pancakes, monita (little monkey),” he corrects her with a little laugh, nose in her hair to kiss it again and breathe in her strawberry toothpaste on top of the sweet shampoo, “You need more sleep or you’ll be cranky in the morning.”

“And I am like you,” she giggles and hides behind Eeyore. 

“Yeah yeah, and you’re too smart for your own good,” he clicks his tongue at her in jest and drags her into a squishing embrace that makes her protest with happy laughter. He shushes her, “Less giggling. More snoring.”

“You have to say goodnight to Eeyore,” she demands into the soft fabric of his shirt. Her words are slurred as if the very action of closing her eyes has brought her to the brink of sleep. 

Javier fishes out Eeyore so he doesn’t suffocate underneath her. He settles him on the headboard of her bed so he can watch over her, conjuring up the tone he used to use when he was the boss in Cali (minus the unfathomable amount of swearing), “Goodnight, old Eeyore. You’re on monster-hunting duty now.”

Inés lets out a tiny noise that tells him that she is pleased. It doesn’t take long for her breathing to even out after that, telling him that she’s fast asleep in his arms. It feels sacred. 

Javier stays for a while. He doesn’t want to disturb her moment of peaceful sleep. He’ll get up soon, he tells himself, will ease her gently off his arm and return to his own bed. However, he dozes off too after a few minutes, not that he means to but her soft breaths knocks him out like a hammer to the head. 

He only wakes up again when you gently rub his shoulder. He startles but only momentarily, then heaves a yawning sigh and blinks in confusion at being woken up. 

“I’m awake,” he whispers and holds up his hands in surrender. 

“I can see that,” you stifle a snicker. 

“Another nightmare,” he explains. 

You don’t need any elaboration, “She okay now?”

“Yeah, she’s good.”

“And you?” You question and he loves you a little more.

“I’m okay,” he answers and it is the truth. 

You lean down to kiss his lips, “Don’t fall asleep in here or your back is gonna hate you in the morning.”

“She said she likes being like me,” he blurts out a little sheepishly like he is still in shock while you pull away from his mouth. 

“Smart girl,” you hum lovingly, “You’re a good one to be like.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[enflixx]

room for three - park sunghoon

summary: In a cramped college studio apartment, you and Sunghoon discover you're expecting a child while barely making ends meet on your part-time jobs. As your belly grows, so do the quiet moments of fear, love, and unwavering commitment between you stolen between lectures, shifts, and sleepless nights. Through heartbreak and hope, you build a life with nothing but each other and the promise of someone new.

genre: fluff

warning(s): reader is pregnant

word count: 1084

It starts with a late period. Then two.

But it’s easy to dismiss at first. Stress, probably. You’ve been juggling classes, midterms, a closing shift at the café, and that awful stomach bug that went around campus. Your body is tired. That has to be it.

But when you sit in bed with Sunghoon one night, knees curled under you, and absentmindedly mention how your breasts are sore and how your jeans don’t zip quite as easily anymore, he stills. Just for a second. Not panicked, not even questioning, just still.

“You okay?” you ask, brushing his shoulder.

He nods quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Just… you don’t think...?”

You look at each other in the dim light of your desk lamp. Neither of you says it. But you both think it.

The next afternoon, you walk to the pharmacy together in silence, fingers intertwined. You don't speak. He glances at you once just once, then you pick up the test, and his grip on your hand tightens slightly like he needs to make sure you’re still there. Still his.

You take it in the bathroom with shaking hands. You lock the door even though Sunghoon says he’ll wait right outside. The apartment is so small that your nervous breathing bounces off the tile and echoes back at you.

Three minutes have never felt so endless.

When you finally walk out, you hold the test like it might break in your hand. You sit on the edge of the tub, barefoot, your knees touching his where he squats in front of you. You both stare down at the plastic.

Two pink lines.

The air is thin. Like if you breathe too hard, the moment might shatter.

Sunghoon’s eyes scan the test, then lift to meet yours. There’s something unreadable in his face, shock, maybe. Wonder. Fear. All of it wrapped in that gentle stillness he always carries, the one you fell in love with.

He doesn’t speak for a long time. Then: “You’re sure?”

You nod, eyes burning. “Yeah.”

He exhales, lips parting like he wants to say something measured and adult something about timing or money or the fact that you live in a one-room apartment and can’t even afford a microwave that works but all that comes out is: “We’re gonna be parents.”

Your lip quivers. You don’t mean to cry, but you do. You bury your face in your hands and cry into the tiny, broken bathroom you call home.

And Sunghoon? He pulls you into him. Arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, voice warm and cracked against your ear.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers. “We always do.”

By the time your second trimester starts, everything about your body feels different.

The tiny apartment, which once felt romantic in a broke-college-student kind of way, now feels suffocating. Your clothes don't fit. Your bras hurt. And Sunghoon, god bless him, tries so hard. He brings you water, makes you toast, ties your shoes when your belly starts to press outward.

You cry because the faucet drips too loud one night. You cry because the neighbors have sex too loud. You cry because the takeout place got your order wrong. And through every tear and hormonal breakdown, Sunghoon just holds you.

“You’re growing a whole human,” he whispers one night, rubbing your back as you hiccup over spilled rice. “You’re allowed to be mad at the world.”

You curl up against him on the mattress on the floor, belly between you. His fingers trace lazy patterns across the curve of it. “What if we’re not ready?” you whisper.

He’s silent for a long time. Then he presses a kiss to your temple. “I wasn’t ready to fall in love with you either. But look at us now.”

It’s not a promise. Not an answer. But it’s enough.

The clinic is two bus rides away. You hold his hand the whole time. Neither of you speaks on the way there, but his thumb runs slow circles over your knuckles over and over, like a prayer.

The sonographer is kind. She makes small talk. Asks if it’s your first.

Sunghoon says “Yes” and laughs nervously. You say “Yeah” and bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying.

When she places the cold jelly on your stomach and turns the screen toward you, the entire room shifts. Soundless, breathless awe.

There it is.

The heartbeat flickers. A tiny, beautiful, furious pulse. A life.

“Oh my god,” Sunghoon breathes.

His hand trembles in yours. His mouth parts, his whole face folding into something you've never seen before, something young and scared and full of impossible, indescribable love.

“That’s our baby,” you whisper.

You hear him sniffle quietly. When you look over, he’s wiping at his eyes, embarrassed but glowing.

You’ve never loved him more.

Money is tight. So tight you start measuring grocery trips in terms of how many meals you can stretch from one carton of eggs. You cry in the bathroom with the lights off because you didn’t want to tell Sunghoon that you had to skip lunch to afford your prenatal vitamins.

And he notices. He always does.

“I picked up a few extra shifts,” he tells you one night while rubbing your aching feet.

“You don’t have time.”

“We need the money.”

“I need you here.”

The fight is soft. No screaming. No doors slamming. Just quiet desperation clashing against even quieter love.

When he finally crawls onto the mattress beside you, he cups your swollen belly and says, “I don’t care if we’re broke. I just want you both safe.”

You fall asleep holding his hand, scared out of your mind, but somehow, somehow grateful, too.

Your belly has a mind of its own now. You waddle. You cry when you drop things. You sleep in strange, propped-up positions that make Sunghoon laugh and take blurry Polaroids.

“You look like a goddess,” he says one morning when you catch your reflection and groan.

“I look like a balloon.”

“You’re carrying a whole future inside you. That’s kind of amazing.”

And it is.

One night, he comes home from work smelling like deli meat and metal shelves. He doesn’t say anything just crawls into bed, pulls up your shirt, and rests his cheek on your belly.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers. “It's daddy, I hope you like grilled cheese.”

You laugh through tears.

Because this is your life. Messy, cramped, unpaid, uncertain.

But it’s yours.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[bettelaboure]

⊹The Art of The First Time⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

fourth part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: sexual tension, explicit sexual exploration, embarrassment, mature language, peer pressure, and high school dynamics involving gossip and judgment

⊹ Summary: the reader reluctantly agrees to be tutored by awkward and quiet Seung-Hyun, she fullfil her side of the deal to be the one teaching him life’s more intimate lessons

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

​​It was Thursday and you needed to blow off some steam.

"Come onnnn!" you groaned under your breath. "Just do it!" Your fingers moved faster, desperation tingling under your skin. "Please... please, God, let me."

Your eyes stared up at the ceiling, your other hand gripping the sheets. You were so close. So needy. So—

Knock, knock.

"Y/N?" your mom's voice rang through the door. "Is everything okay in there?"

For fuck's sake.

"Yeah! Everything's fine, Mom!" you called out, scrambling to pull the hoodie down over your legs.

"Okay. Your dad and I are leaving now. We won’t be back till late."

"Tell everyone I said hi," you muttered as you heard her footsteps fade.

You got out of bed, your legs still trembling slightly, frustration boiling just under the surface. You walked over to the mirror and looked at yourself—just a hoodie and your underwear. Your tanned skin stood out against the creamy white cotton.

"Why can't you just do it?" you whispered, cheeks flushed, hair a tangled mess. The irony wasn’t lost on you—here you were, tutoring Choi Seung-Hyun about sex, and you couldn't even finish yourself off.

Shit. Seung-Hyun.

You glanced at the clock. Less than thirty minutes to get to his place, and it was a twenty-five-minute walk if you didn’t stop.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed as you scrambled to find pants. Where the hell were they?!

Tripping over your own feet while pulling them on, you barely made it into the bathroom. As you brushed your hair and splashed water on your face, your mind raced.

What the hell were you going to teach Seung-Hyun today? You'd covered kissing. You'd made out. Was it time for... fingering?

Did you even want his fingers inside you?

You shook the thought off. It was too soon. Probably.

When you arrived, only a couple minutes late, he didn’t mention the time. Instead, Seung-Hyun opened the door and let you in, his usual soft-spoken manner putting you at ease.

It was another Past-tense session. You went through the basics. Another test sheet. A five this time. Better than a two.

"Do you even attend English class?" he asked as he handed back your paper.

You shrugged, eyes averted. It was a clear 'no'.

He sighed. "Y/N, you'd improve a lot faster if you went to class. One tutoring session a week isn't a miracle cure."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be the best tutor, right?"

"Did you even watch the documentary I sent you? The one on the History site?"

You didn’t need to respond. Your face answered for you.

"I'm not Superman. You gotta meet me halfway."

You knew he was right, but it was hard to admit. School felt like a void you were floating in, each class draining more energy than the last. Most of your teachers gave up on you last year. So what was the point?

"Have you ever dry-humped before?" you blurted, the words flying from your lips before your brain could catch up.

What. The. Fuck.

Seung-Hyun looked completely stunned. "What?"

"Never mind," you muttered, pretending to be absorbed in your test paper.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he kissed you. The feel of his lips, the scent of spearmint gum and apple juice. He was surprisingly good at it. Better than you expected.

"What is it?" he asked, still watching you.

You looked up and took a breath. "I can show you. If you want."

He hesitated, nerves warring with curiosity in his eyes. But then he nodded.

You led him to the living room and gestured for him to sit. He did, cautiously, like he was stepping into unknown territory.

"Shit," you muttered, checking your phone. "Two percent battery."

"I got it." He handed you his phone. A playlist started streaming through the speakers.

The Blackstreet.

"You like them?" you asked, surprised.

"Yeah. They're cool. You?"

"Never listened much, but Jae-mi says they have the best sex songs."

You walked back over to him and asked, "Is it okay if I... get on you?"

His nod was small but clear. You straddled his lap, adjusting your legs to fit over his tall frame. It was intimate, awkwardly so.

"Okay," you said, steadying yourself. "Kiss me."

His eyes widened. "I thought you were—"

"Are you or are you not trying to knock Se-mi’s socks off with your sexy skills?" you raised a brow.

He knew you were right. Again. He straightened up, lifted a trembling hand. He was so nervous.

You touched his cheek. "Look in my eyes. If you're gonna kiss a girl, start there."

He met your gaze. A storm of blue and gray, with silver specks flickering near the center.

"Now look at my lips," you whispered. He did. You could see his throat bob.

"Ask to kiss me."

"Huh?"

"Consent is sexy. Ask."

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

"Yes."

He kissed you, and this time, he meant it. His lips were soft but eager, his hands cradling your face. As your mouths opened and tongues explored, something shifted. The kiss grew desperate. Messy.

You shifted your hips, rising slightly before settling your core directly against his.

He gasped and pulled back, eyes wide. You met his gaze. "Is this okay?"

He took a shaky breath. "Yes."

You began moving your hips, slowly, letting the friction build. His breath caught.

"What... w-what are you doing?"

"Follow me. Move with me."

His hands found your lower back, tentative at first. Then he moved, hips pressing up into yours, matching your rhythm.

"Like this?"

You nodded, breathless. "Yeah. Like that."

The friction increased. Your lips returned to his, tasting each soft groan he let slip. The tension built. Your thighs trembled.

He bucked up harder. You gasped as you felt it—the pressure against your core. He was hard. Really hard.

Holy hell.

You cursed under your breath as a sharp jolt of pleasure pulsed through you.

His breath hitched. He moved faster. Desperation took over.

Until—

"Holy shit," Seung-Hyun grunted suddenly, voice strained. "Fuck."

He pushed you off him. You fell to the rug with a soft thud.

He bolted.

You sat there, dazed, staring after him as he fled into the kitchen.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered to himself.

You stood, smoothing your hoodie as you followed him.

"Seung-Hyun? You okay?"

He looked pale. Terrified.

And then you saw it. The dark stain across his jeans.

Oh.

You tried to keep your expression calm. "Hey. It’s okay. This happens. Especially the first time. Let me—"

"No!" he backed away like you’d just tried to slap him. "C-Can you leave, please?"

You wanted to laugh, but held it in. Poor guy.

He wasn’t just embarrassed. He was humiliated. Like it was something shameful.

Unless...

Wait. Was that... his first orgasm?

You blinked.

Holy shit. You just gave Choi Seung-Hyun his first orgasm.

Damn, girl.

“Soooo…” Jae-mi slammed her lunch tray onto the table with the kind of dramatic flair only she could get away with. She plopped down beside you, her eyes glinting like she’d been waiting hours to say what came next.

“What does Choi Seung-Hyun’s cum-face look like?”

You choked—full-on spluttered—your water going down the wrong pipe as your face turned red. You coughed into your sleeve, struggling to recover while she looked on like she'd just asked what you thought of his shoes.

“What?!” you wheezed, clutching your chest like she’d personally tried to kill you.

She just shrugged innocently. “Haven’t you guys even... y’know?”

“We didn’t.” Your voice was flat, immediate, automatic.

But your stomach twisted because it wasn’t entirely true. He had, but the way Seung-Hyun had reacted afterward—embarrassed, fragile, wide-eyed like he’d broken something inside himself—had left you reeling. Talking about it felt like betrayal. He was new to all of this, and you couldn’t throw that sacred little moment into the lunchtime gossip pile like a used napkin.

“You didn’t?” Jae-mi tilted her head, her voice slow and disbelieving. “Then what did you do?”

“Nothing,” you lied, fiddling with your spoon.

She stared at you.

You sighed. “We just kissed again.”

Still staring.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, feeling cornered. “You have no idea how innocent he is.”

She raised an eyebrow. You dropped your voice lower, almost whispering.

“He’s never had an orgasm before. Like... ever.”

Jae-mi paused, processing. “Wait. He’s eighteen. That’s, like, against nature.”

“I know! Every guy in ninth grade was obsessed with dick jokes and watching porn behind the bleachers. But Seung-Hyun? He’s like... a virgin Buddhist monk reborn as a K-pop visual.”

“But he must’ve gotten hard before. I mean, he’s still human, right?”

“Oh, he definitely has. Yesterday, actually. And girl, let me just say—he’s packing.”

Jae-mi almost dropped her fries. “Y/N!”

You fanned your face dramatically. “Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t trying to see it. But the boy’s got a nuclear weapon tucked in his pants, and it went off—without warning.”

She let out a wheezing laugh.

“But he skipped tutoring today,” you added, growing more serious. “I think he’s embarrassed. Do you think he even knows how normal all this is? I mean, he’s obsessed with science books. How can someone who studies biology not understand how his own body works?”

Jae-mi’s smile softened. “It’s not about knowledge. It’s about experience. Textbooks can’t teach you what sex feels like.”

You bit your lip and looked around. Soo-ah was definitely glancing over.

“It’s like he’s never done anything,” you whispered.

“When you say ‘anything’...”

You just gave her a look.

“Well, damn.” She leaned back. “Bathroom?”

“Bathroom.”

Everyone knew what ‘bathroom’ meant. Not ‘I have to pee’ bathroom—but the ‘I need to whisper secrets where the walls are tiled’ bathroom.

The echo of your boots hit the floor as the two of you entered the empty space. No stalling girls. Just quiet and the low hum of flickering lights. Jae-mi leaned on the sink. You paced.

“I seriously don’t know what to do,” you confessed. “I can handle that he hasn’t kissed many girls—or any. But how do I teach him without making him feel like a science experiment? It’s not like I can hand him a manual.”

Jae-mi started applying lip gloss like this was just another day in her guidance counselor fantasy. “Maybe you should show him.”

“You mean jerk him off?” you deadpanned.

She paused. “I mean—yeah, eventually—but start by showing him what he’s missing. Get him used to the idea of sex. The idea of women.”

You slumped against the tiled wall. “So... a porn movie night?”

Jae-mi chuckled. “I’m serious. He’s going to drown if you throw him straight into the deep end. You need to get him comfortable with the water first.”

You crossed your arms. “Most porn is terrible. It’s all fake moans, bad lighting, and men who act like jackhammers. If he learns from that, he’s going to think choking someone is foreplay.”

“That’s why you have me,” she said, tapping the gloss to your chest like a fairy godmother. “I know the sites for women. I know the books. We’re talking detailed, healthy, educational... and hot.”

You blinked. “You think this’ll actually work?”

“I promise. That boy will be rubbing one out daily by next week.”

You snorted. “Just don’t give him any of that BDSM crap you’re into. I don’t want him asking me to tie him up before he’s even seen a naked woman.”

Jae-mi turned scarlet. “I do not—”

You cut her off, grinning. “You literally have books with whips on the cover. And don’t think I didn’t see the ‘leather harness tutorial’ tab you left open last week.”

“Okay!” she shouted, flailing her hands. “Okay! I’ll pick the right ones!”

“Perfect.” You kissed her cheek and strutted out of the bathroom.

Behind you, her voice echoed, “And stay out of my sex life!”

You laughed. “Never! As long as your short ass is still my best friend!”

Later, after school, the mall practically called your name.

Jae-mi had gone home to study like the responsible gremlin she was, leaving you to wander Victoria’s Secret on your own.

You stood in front of a wall of thongs, debating.

Dark green? Mysterious seductress. Light blue? Virgin who says "oops" after moaning your name. There was also one in blush pink that made you feel like a cupcake with a secret.

Back when you were with Jun-ho, it was always babydolls. He liked them. You didn’t. They were itchy, got in the way, and made you feel like you were trying too hard.

But the yellow lace set the salesgirl handed you? That was a whole different vibe. You stood in the dressing room mirror, staring at yourself.

Curves highlighted. Chest lifted. Ass? Glorious.

“Damn, girl,” you muttered, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips.

You bought it. And a plum set too. Because why the hell not?

At the register, just as you were feeling peak hot-girl energy, fate decided to spice things up.

“Se-mi?” you asked, spotting the petite girl a few feet over, clutching a pack of neon booty shorts.

She turned, wide-eyed. “Um... yes?”

She hadn’t expected you to talk to her. You were enemies. Most girls like her thought girls like you only existed to ruin their GPA or date their crushes.

“I didn’t peg you as the booty shorts type,” you said with an easy smile.

Her face flushed. “I... Kim Jong-in said they were sexy.”

Of course. Of course it was Jong-in. High school’s answer to a walking STI.

“You should never listen to that idiot,” you said. “He thinks Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are the same characters.”

She blinked. “They’re not?”

You sighed. “Never mind. Point is—impress someone who wants more than ass. Someone who sees you.”

Like Seung-Hyun.

“He’s not that dumb,” she defended weakly.

“The guy thinks Catcher in the Rye is a baseball drama.”

Her face fell as she stared at the booty shorts like they’d just cheated on her.

“Oh.”

Then she looked up, smiled—genuinely. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.”

You shrugged. “Us girls gotta stick together, right?”

She nodded, paid, and left.

You didn’t love her. But you’d be damned if Seung-Hyun ever thought she was better than you.

He owed you. Big time.

Taglist: @petersasteria @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

[inwithrin]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ sevika doesn't know how to say 'i love you.'

thinking about sevika who doesn’t know how to say i love you back, not because she doesn’t feel it—but because she feels it too much, and it scares her.

cw: sevika and reader have a minor argument over reader being reckless.

she’s never been soft with anyone before. never had a reason to be. love, to her, was always something that came with conditions, power plays, and strings attached. so when you come into her life with that patience and the gentle way you look at her—she doesn’t know what to do with it.

she’s awkward about it, at first. clumsy in the way she shows affection—buying you your favorite snacks and drinks, pushing them toward you without a word, standing guard by your side without ever admitting she’s doing it on purpose, brushing your hair from your face with calloused fingers and then pretending like it didn’t happen.

but you notice, because you love her in ways she doesn’t even know. 

one night, after a long day and an even longer silence, you’re curled up in bed while she sits at the edge, elbow resting on her knee, cigar in hand. the room is low-lit, and she hasn’t looked at you in ten minutes.

“are you okay?” you ask softly.

she shrugs. “yeah.”

you sit up behind her, arms wrapping around her middle. her body tenses for a second—always like she expects you to pull away—but then she melts into it, leaning back into you.

“you don’t talk much,” you say into her shoulder. “why?”

“never been good at it,” she mutters. 

“you don’t have to be good. you just have to be honest,” you whisper.

she lets out a low laugh. “that’s the thing. not sure what to say.”

you pull back just enough to look at her profile, her tight jaw, eyes on the floor. “you could start with why you always act odd when i say that i love you.”

her eyes flick to yours, startled. she’s quiet for a long moment. “you mean it?” she asks.

you blink. “what?”

“when you say it. you mean it?” sevika clarified.

you sit fully now, cross-legged behind her. “of course i do, sev. i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t.”

she exhales slowly, rubbing her free hand over her face. “i don’t get it.”

“what don’t you get?” you ask.

“you see me. all of me. the scars. the temper. the shit i’ve done,” she looks back at you now, eyes sharp. “and you still love me?”

you reach out, brushing your fingers down her back. “yeah. i do.”

she looks away again, muscles clenching. “people like me… we don’t get that. not for real.”

“you do,” you say, gently but firmly. “you get me. you get this.”

sevika turns to you then, finally. there’s something raw in her face—something open and fragile, if only for a second. she doesn’t say it. not yet.

she puts down her cigar on the ashtray placed on the bedside table. sevika leans to cup your cheek with her rough hand, pulls you in, and kisses you like a vow. steady and real.

when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours. “i’m trying,” she murmurs.

you smile, eyes fluttering shut. “i know.”

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

“what were you thinking?” sevika’s voice is sharp—borderline panicked—but it comes out like anger because that’s all she’s ever known how to wield.

you’re pacing the concrete behind the bar, arms crossed over your chest, adrenaline still pumping from the confrontation that just ended. “i was fine. it wasn’t even a real threat, just some drunk man talking shit—”

“and what if it was? you don’t even know who he is or if he had a weapon!” she cuts in, brows furrowed like she’s holding back something far bigger than anger. “you can’t just walk around like you’re untouchable.”

you scoff. “i know i’m not! i didn’t even ask you to step in, vika.”

“didn’t have a fucking choice!” sevika says.

you look at her, exasperated. “you always have a choice.”

she steps in close, towering, teeth gritted. “not when it’s you.”

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. 

sevika runs a hand down her face, like she’s trying to wipe the emotion off with it. her voice is lower when she speaks again, but it shakes at the edges. “you don’t get it. there are people in this city who’d put a bullet in your head just to see me flinch. just to get leverage.”

you stare at her, stunned. “so you only care if they get to you?” the second you say it, you regret it. but it’s already out there.

sevika goes still. her jaw works silently for a moment. “of course not,” she growls, stepping even closer. “i care because if something happened to you, i wouldn’t fucking recover.”

your breath hitches.

“i’d burn this place to the ground if anyone so much as touched you,” she says, voice shaking now, fury and desperation bleeding together. “and i’ve been trying so hard to not need someone like that. but you—fuck, you ruined that for me.”

you look up at her, heart racing. “so what, that’s my fault?”

“no,” she says, softer now. “it’s not a blame thing. it’s a love thing.”

the silence that follows felt like surrender. she doesn’t say it pretty, doesn’t even say it with care—but it lands.

“say that again,” you order. 

she shakes her head, eyes flitting away for a second. “i’m not good at saying—”

“say it, sev,” you repeat.

sevika meets your eyes. “i love you,” she says, like it hurts. “i love you,” she repeats, quieter, but no less intense. “so don’t go walking around like your life doesn’t matter, because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

her shoulders drop the moment you press your hand to her chest, grounding her. “okay,” you whisper, leaning into her. “okay, i won’t. i’m sorry, sev—i love you too.”

she rests her forehead against yours, breath warm and ragged. sevika’s jaw is clenched, but the tension is starting to bleed out of her shoulders, now that she’s touching you. now that neither is yelling. now that you’re safe.

you brush your fingers up her chest, let them settle at the collar of her shirt. “you’re shaking,” you murmur.

she huffs out a soft laugh. “yeah. kinda hard not to when you almost get yourself killed in front of me.”

you smile, just a little. “you’re dramatic.”

“you’re reckless,” she retorts. 

you raise your brows. “and yet you love me.”

that gets her. 

her lips twitch, but there’s this look in her eyes now—exasperated and fascinated. like she’s still trying to figure out how someone like you ended up wrapped around someone like her. her mouth brushes against yours, soft and unhurried. you hum against her lips, hands sliding up to cup her face, and you feel her sigh into your mouth.

she pulls back just an inch. “you scared the shit out of me.”

you press a quick kiss against her lips. “i know.”

“you don’t get it,” she murmurs, voice rough. “i’d kill for you. die for you.”

you press your forehead to hers again, whisper, “i’d rather you just love me.”

[a-simple-imagine]

Moonlight across the Windowsill

requested by anonymouses: "reader sneaking teen Van in through her window, and just trying to have her over without getting caught by reader’s parents"

combined with

" Teen Van Palmer thinking that reader and Tai are dating,(into each other) reader has to knock some sense into Van that she likes her"

pairing: teen!van palmer x fem!reader

words: 5.2k

A/N - I'm not sure about this one or maybe I'm just insecure about my writing rn idk. this is my 7th van palmer fic, you guys not getting sick of them yet??

WARNINGS - Swearing, vague allusion to a volatile home life, homophobia and confusion about feelings

Nine PM. That is what the clock says as you slump further down in your seat. An array of paper paired with the books you had borrowed from the library, scattered across the small desk space, illuminated by the harsh yellow of a desk lamp. It feels like you have been sitting here forever. Trapped in an endless discussion about the themes and symbolism within old Shakespearean plays and how best to present them. Taissa had always been very bossy regarding school projects, but it's outweighed by her innate desire to be right. Her opinion held more value than anyone else's. So, no matter what you suggest, the other will simply tell you that it is a good suggestion before explaining how her idea was superior. At this point, you would much rather escape to the comfort of your bed, but you had to finish your half of the work before tomorrow, or Taissa would have your head on a stick.

"I just don't think-" An abrupt bang against your window almost makes you drop the phone. Pausing the conversation to look around your otherwise empty bedroom.

"Think what?" Taissa questions.

"Sorry, uh," You turn back to your work, raising the phone to its correct position against your ear. "that we need to go into that much detail if we want-" Another bang makes your heart leap. "one sec," dropping the telephone down onto the desk, you cautiously approach the window. Peeking out slowly in case it was some weirdo or a mass murderer. Even more surprising, you find Van Palmer standing in your garden. Butterflies immediately start to flutter low in your stomach. This couldn't be real. Why would Van be at your house this late? She waves up as you push the window open, hands perched on the sill as you lean out.

"Van?"

"Hey," She whisper yells.

"What are you doing here?" You yell back, trying to be as loud as possible without disturbing your parents. The girl just shrugs. "How did you even find my house?"

"Asked Shauna." What? Was Shauna just giving out your address willy-nilly to the other girls on the team? "Can I come up?"

"I don't know- give me one second." You rush back to the phone, hauling it to your ear. "Tai?"

"Hello?"

"Can I call you back?"

"Why? What's happening?" She wonders. "We need to finish this project."

"I know- I'll be quick."

"You better call me back," Tai insists. "You know how easily distracted you can get."

"Alright- yep, bye,"

"Bye-" Words cut off as you drop the phone back down against the receiver. Going back to the window, you now find Van clinging to the windowsill for dear life. Did she climb up the wall to your room? Was she insane? You hadn't even said she could come in.

"Jesus, you're fast,"

"Can you... help me- up?" Reaching for her upper arms, you take some of her weight and awkwardly assist in her dumb decision to scale the side of your house. Hands slapping against the floor, legs dangling outside, she crawls slowly onto your bedroom floor. You take a few steps back to give her space, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

"What are you, Spider-Man?"

"Maybe," Van says, standing up and brushing herself off. "This would be the part where you patch me up and we ignore the unbridled sexual tension as you so lovingly take care of me."

A joke that makes your cheeks burn. "Are you hurt?" Her head shakes. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Oh, so if I were, you would take care of me?"

"I mean... yeah, probably." Was she expecting anything different? "Wouldn't want you bleeding out on my floor."

"Good to know,"

"What are you doing here?" You ask again. "What if my mom came to the window instead?"

"Your parents are downstairs. I could see them when I walked past," Van explains. "The light was on up here, so had to be you."

"What if it had been the wrong house?"

"But it wasn't," Van insists, a flash of her pearly whites. You search her face for some kind of explanation. Like her eyes would tell the story of why she was climbing through your window at nine at night. They were red around the rim, a little bloodshot. Puffy cheeks with a hint of a shine in the dim light.

"Have you been crying?" It was obvious she had been, but what was the cause? Your eyes narrow. Inspecting further, but the red head spins sharply on her heel, breaking your view.

"Can I... stay here tonight?" Your heart beats a tad faster. Ambushed by the question. Could you really say no to a girl who needs help? Someone, you just said you would help if she needed it? Smart. Sneaky.

"I don't- I'm not sure my mom will let you. It's so late and a school night, so..."

"She doesn't have to know." Van takes a few steps around your room. Eying the walls. Judging your space.

"Van-"

"I'll sleep on the floor and leave real early."

"Van." It was one thing to hide a person for a couple of minutes, but all night? That was work. You were never particularly sneaky. And if your parents asked, you weren't sure you could lie convincingly.

"Please, "A frantic plea with a sharp turn. She is no longer smiling. You see sorrow in her eyes. Sincerity. Desperation. "I can't..." You wait for her to continue, but she doesn't. She won't. Swallowing down any sort of confusion. You cannot send her away. It would be cruel.

"Okay," you nod a little. "But you have to be quiet." You don't know what your parents would do if they knew you were letting people sneak in through the window. They obviously wouldn't throw Van out on the street, or at least, you hope they wouldn't. You would probably be in trouble, though, and you didn't want that. The corner of her lips curl up ever so slightly.

"I can do that." Your gaze lingers on her as she continues her journey around your room. How long had she been wandering around? And why did she decide to come to your house, of all people? You weren't exactly super close. Not in the way she is with some of the other girls.

"Are you hungry?" You ask. It felt like the best way to help right now, but she just shrugged. "I'll go see what we have. You stay here. You can borrow some clothes if you want."

It's a relief to exit the room. Hesitating against your closed door like you've trapped some kind of monster inside. Your stomach is surely making it feel that way. Anxiety like an endless pit. Fuelling every step as you navigate the halls of your home as quietly as possible. It was weird to think of the girl upstairs. Van Palmer was in your house. In your bedroom. Admiring your possessions. Looking through your things. You had always found Van to be a particularly interesting case. She wasn't quite like the other girls you knew from the soccer team. She was clumsy; imperfect. No desire to hide the messy parts. With bright red hair and the style of a teenage boy, you've always admired her. Wasn't afraid to express herself. Make jokes. Tease the guys. Van was special, but being around her made you nervous. Perhaps that's why you weren't as close as you might like. She makes your stomach churn. Your cheeks flush. Your heart beats that little bit faster. As you enter the kitchen, you half expect to hear your mom's voice. Each slow step in anticipation of your inevitable capture. But all is well as you open the cupboards and search the fridge. You find a sandwich that was probably for your lunch tomorrow and decide to take it. You could just make another in the morning. Grabbing a plate before sneaking back up the stairs and into your room. Van is still wondering about although she seems to be particularly interested in your mirror.

"This you?" You find a space on your desk to place the sandwich as you walk over. Your mirror was decorated with decade-defining stickers of varying electability alongside different photographs. Van has honed in on one in particular and is offering it out. It shows two kids standing on the sidewalk at night. One was dressed as a blue and red robot. The other is a yellow robot. They both had jack-o'-lantern-shaped plastic buckets in their hands.

"Yeah, that is," you point to the little yellow one, "and that's Shauna, believe it or not."

"Shipman?" You nod, looking down at the picture. It's a really old photo, but adorable.

"Mhmm, don't ask why we're dressed as Transformers. Probably my dad's idea." You express fondness.

"I didn't know you two had been friends that long,"

"Oh yeah, for as long as I can remember," You and Shauna had a long history. Your parents, as far as you were aware, had been friends before you were even born, so it's no surprise that you two ended up friends. You spent a lot of time together growing up. Always at each other's houses. Holidays spent with each other's families. You weren't together as much as when you were little. Jackie Taylor probably played a part in that, but you were still close friends. Your moms were still friends. "My mom has whole albums of us together." You step forward to take the picture back up and admire the rest. They ranged from when you were small to the present day. Photographic evidence of your growth.

"Cute," Van comments. "Where's that from?" She points to a small strip you got from a photo booth. It had three photos in succession of you alongside Taissa. You were just messing around. Killing time. It was one of the more recent additions to your collection.

"A while ago. She was staying over, and my mom dragged us to the mall." You shrug. "We look cute. I really like how they came out."

"You have a lot of pictures." She declares, looking entirely around herself as if your entire room was just covered in photographs. It wasn't. But there were quite a few. You like having little moments of the past scattered about. They transport you back to a happy instant.

"I'm sentimental," You giggle a little.

"And yet none of me," Van adds casually. "Must not like me." A bold question as she takes the plate from your desk and sits on the edge of the bed. Placing it down in her lap.

"I- I wouldn't say that." You respond quickly. It wasn't a result of not liking Van. Quite the opposite in fact. You didn't really have any pictures together anyway.

"Seems like it," She takes a big bite

"Van,"

"I'm just messing with you," Mumbled out through a mouthful of bread. Thankfully, she swallows before continuing. "There's so many of you and Tai."

"Well, we're friends, so,"

"That's all?"

Your brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

Van shrugs, taking another bite. "Thanks for the food."

You debate inquiring further, but decide not to dwell on it. Some things were better left unknown, and maybe she did mean nothing by it. "No problem. Sorry, it's not more. I couldn't find much."

"This is fine." You let her enjoy tomorrow's lunch. Awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with no idea where to go from here. What does one do when a stranger seeks comfort in their room at what is now almost ten? Should you ask? Do you even have the right to? Her showing up like this surely gives you that right.

"So..." Hummed softly as you took a seat next to her on your bed. "Do you wanna tell me why you just showed up at my house?" Van's movement stops, dropping what's left of her sandwich onto the plate. You're looking at her, keep her head down.

"I was just wandering about." She eventually responds. Voice especially reserved.

"So late?" It was nineish when she arrived. Your parents trusted you, but they would never let you wander the streets alone at this time of night.

Van turns to you. "Sorry."

All you can do is sigh. Not exactly the answers you were looking for. "Don't apologise. I'm just worried about you." You watch Van finish off her food. They really were such a mystery to you. It's only now, as you sit in silence, do you notice the addition to her outfit. A navy blue hoody with the school mascot on it. You're pretty sure she was only in a T-shirt before. "Is this hoodie mine?"

"Yeah, you said I could borrow something, but nothing was really my style. Found this in the back." Must be an old hoody, you don't even remember ever wearing it. "That okay?" You nod, getting up, and you decide to return to your project. You had wasted about an hour dealing with Van. Valuable working time. "What are you working on?"

"Homework," You tell her. "Tai and I have a project due, and before you interrupted, we were discussing my part. I don't have much left."

"Oh, I will stop being a distraction then." Your eyes survey the work you left spread out, trying to recollect your thoughts from before. Trying to remember what you and Tai had been discussing. You should have been finished by now. Could have been in bed. It's harder to focus with another person in the room. It feels like you're being watched, but you get to work as best you can. You can hear van rustling about behind you like a restless puppy. You try to ignore her. Tai will be mad if you don't finish.

"Are these all yours?" You glance back to find Van leaning over the edge of your bed, rooting through a box she'd half dragged out from underneath. "You have so many." She has pulled out a black VHS tape. Most of them are probably your parents, you weren't much of a collector. Your parents bought you films you really liked.

"Some are my parents, they get mixed up easily- why are you under my bed?" She puts the tape back but continues looking through the others.

"Bored." Van declares.

"It's only been like five minutes," Maybe ten, but the point still stands that it hadn't been very long.

"That's basically forever." She pulls out another tape, opening the case briefly before examining the back. "Can we watch one?"

"It's a little late," You insist. Van drops the tape and pushes the box back under the bed. Dangling over the edge, you turn back to your work. "Can you stop?"

"Why? What are you hiding down here?"

"Nothing- I don't know- just stop." You hear her chuckle. Peeking back as she sits up.

"You're so silly," Van comments. You wonder if that's a compliment or not. "Can we do something fun?"

"You can sit quietly while I finish this." You propose. "That's fun."

"Boring," She sing songs loudly.

"Shush," You huff. "My parents are gonna hear us." Van sighs loudly this time and you do the same. "Van, I really need to finish this. Tai will kill me if I don't."

"Always about Tai." Van hums. "What about me?"

Gosh, she was relentless in her pursuit of disrupting your workflow. You glance back at her, sitting cross-legged in the middle of your bed. Why was she so bothered by your friendship with Tai? "I'd also like not to fail." You express. "Why don't you try going to sleep or something?"

"You hate me."

"I don't hate you,"

Van smiles playfully. "Can I have some paper or something?"

"Why?" You question. Knitted brows.

"Something to do while I wait," She shrugs. A piece of spare paper and a small pencil from your case, you offer them out. Van crawls across the bed to collect the items.

"Can you let me finish now?"

"Course," Thankfully, Van Palmer seems to be a woman of her word this time around. As quiet as a mouse as you flip through pages and scribble things down. You're tempted to call Tai, but it's late, and with Van here, it would just feel awkward. You manage to finish, but not before the clock shows eleven. You should probably head to bed. If your parents come upstairs and find your lights still on, they'd probably tell you off. Turning back to Van, she's now lying down on the bed with all her attention on whatever she is working on. You stand up and walk on over. Lying down on the bed right beside her. Looks like she was drawing a picture. You reach for the paper, and she stops, but doesn't stop you; you pull it away to inspect it. It was clearly a person or an attempt at one, at least. Rough lines of graphite intersect much softer strokes.

"Whose this?"

"You," answered plain and simple. Suddenly, the lines come together in your brain, creating an image as she describes. A picture of you. Messy and imperfect, but she still chose to draw you.

"Me?" You question quietly, although it was mostly rhetorical. "Why did you draw me?"

"You looked pretty." Heat rushes to your face. The thumping of your heart. Van rolls over onto her back, looking up at you now. "It's not very good. I was just messing about."

"I..." All the words you can think of die in your throat. A testament to the power of a compliment when it comes from the right the right person. Lucky for you, Van changes the subject.

"So you're done with your work?"

"Uh," You place her drawing down, looking over at her. "Think so."

"So now what?"

"Bed." Answered plainly. "We have school tomorrow, and my mom will probably come in at any minute."

"Boring," She groans, but at least it's quieter than before. You ignore her, grabbing a pillow off your bed and tossing it on the floor alongside your blanket.

"Sorry, you have to stay on the floor. I'm just worried about my parents seeing,"

"It's fine," The redhead rolls onto her front before getting off the bed.

"Do you need another pillow or more blankets? I probably have some somewhere." You offer. Van is already making herself comfortable on the floor. Fluffing up the pillow and wrapped herself up in the blanket. You watch her for a moment. The blanket was pulled all the way up to her shoulders. A soft smile on her lips. A bad feeling about the fact that you're making her sleep on the floor. It can't be very comfortable, but if your mother comes up and sees her, you'd be in a lot of trouble. Getting down, you switch off the light before climbing back into bed. An eerie stillness envelops the room as you lie snuggled up in your bed. This wasn't how you saw your night going. Didn't expect to have Van Palmer sleeping on your floor. You wanna know more. Worried about why she'd be walking the streets at night, but you also don't wanna force her to talk about it. It feels awkward having her down there. You wonder if she is feeling it too.

"Van?" Asked quietly. Cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"Yep, it's not so bad down here. I can see all the secrets you keep under the bed." She teases. Ever the jokester. It's off-putting to your true intentions.

"Did..." Was it even your place to ask? What if she takes it the wrong way? Your fingers tighten around the fabric of your duvet. Holding it like a protective shield around your body. "Did something happen at home?"

The silence that follows makes your stomach churn. Had you overstepped? Did she get you now? "Everything's fine." She bites. "We should sleep."

"Okay," You say quietly. Sinking further into the bed. "You... you can talk to me, y'know? If you ever want to." Van doesn't answer. You don't bother her with it anymore. But you can't help but peek over the side of the bed. She's turned away from you. A strip of moonlight made the deep red of her hair almost glow in the darkness. You really should have shut the curtains or something. You linger a moment. Admiring her in her calmness.

"Do you like Tai?" She questions abruptly. Catching you in the act of staring as she moves to lie on her back. Immediately, you retreat back to safety.

"W-What?"

"I won't tell anyone, I swear," Van declares rapidly. "Just kinda seems that way."

Does it? Is that the impression your friendship gives off? "No," said a little too defensively. Too sharp not to seem offended. "No. Why would you say that?"

"Tai is beautiful and cool? You have like a million photos of her and you're always around her," Van explains. "Like I get it. Better than anyone."

You table your suspected crush on Tai to pull the focus back to Van. "What do you mean better than anyone?"

"Are you serious? Half the school thinks I'm a dyke. I don't really try and hide it."

You'd be lying if you said you had never heard rumours about Van, but that was just childish gossip. This was Van actually confirming it.

"How did you..." You hesitate. Voice quieter. "Know?"

"I think I've always sorta known," Van replies. "Also, the first time I saw Jessica Rabbit was crazy," You laugh a little at the thought of a very young Van Palmer being in love with a cartoon. It was cute. "I've never really met anyone like me, though, but then I saw how you are with Tai. Got me thinking. I'm nothing like Tai."

"Van, I don't like Tai," You state. Tai was really great, but you've never really thought about her that way. It had never been crossed your mind. Then again, maybe that was more because you didn't like to think that way at all. It seemed almost shameful to think of girls that way. Like you're doing something wrong. The only time those thoughts seem to get loud is when you're around Van. She makes them harder to push down with her cute, stupid little face. Her stupid, infectious smile. Every time she makes a dumb joke or makes a clumsy mistake.

"My bad," Van interrupts your thoughts. A faint creak hits your ear. "I-"

"Wait," You shush her. A tense silence. Maybe you misheard? Your bedroom door creaks open a crack. Your parents must be heading to bed. They always check. Lucky for you, it's not a very thorough one tonight. Your door closes again, and you let out a relieved sigh. You had gotten away with it. Peering over the edge, Van's eyes are closed tight. "Van," You whisper. She doesn't respond. You wait. She doesn't respond. Guess the conversation is over. You don't want to continue probing. She looks so peaceful, but there's no way she was asleep yet. "I think... I might like you," You admit quietly, expecting some kind of reaction. Any kind of reaction. But she doesn't so much as flinch. So you move back and settle back into bed for a good night's sleep.

You wake up early the next morning, disturbed by the gentle pitter-patter of footsteps in your room. Rubbing at your sleepy eyes before they flicker open, squinting in the premature morning sun. "Van?" Her name is but a sigh from your lips.

"I should go before your parents wake up," Van insists. "Thanks for letting me stay."

It's too early. How was she so awake? She's lingering by your window, and you're suddenly worried about her falling. "You can use the front door, Spider-Man."

A noticeable smile. "You sure?"

"I'll walk you out." You push up, struggling to stifle a yawn.

"No, it's cool," She replies. "Sleep, I can see myself out."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," She heads for the door. "I'll see you at school."

"Okay. The spare key should be on the hook, just make sure you put it back."

"Will do, MJ." And with that, she exits the room. It's not hard to fall back asleep after Van leaves. You were plenty tired after last night.

The morning is relatively uneventful. You keep expecting your parents to bring up the secret girl you had in your room, but they don't. Everything progresses normally. You even manage to arrive at school with plenty of time to spare. The minute you step through the door it feels like you're immediately greeted by a very intense Taissa Turner. Bright-eyed and ready for a full day of school before the weekend.

"So?"

"Good morning to you too, Tai," You mumble sarcastically. She falls into step as you walk through the building.

"Did you finish or not?"

Of course, that's her main concern. "Yes, it's done."

"And it's actually good?"

"Tai," you groan loudly, an abrupt stop as you turn to face her. "Can we do this later? It's too early."

"What even happened? You never called me back," Her eyes search yours for an explanation, you sigh and continue walking.

"Yeah, sorry,"

"You're the one who wanted to call," She follows, now a step behind. "said it'd help you work better, then you just hang up on me."

"Gotcha." An arm flung over your shoulder drags you flush against another person. Its Van. She's caught Tai in the other.

"I just had something come up," You tell Tai, offering Van a little smile.

"You're here early," Tai comments. You know it's aimed at Van as she steps out of her grip. You pat Van's hand before removing yourself, too.

"Yeah, I was ready early, so I walked today." You eye her suspiciously. "You coming to homeroom?"

"Yes," You agree eagerly. You just wanted to get away from Tai, honestly. She was easier to handle after the first period. "I need to go to my locker first. I'll see you later, Tai."

"It better be done," Tai urges. You just roll your eyes, paths diverging down different corridors. Now you walk alongside Van.

"So did you actually go home or just wander about and come to school?"

"I went home,"

"Van," Stated firmly. A warning to tell the truth.

"I went home," She urges, a little more defensively. "I grabbed some stuff and came here. She shows you her backpack as proof.

"Okay," You're reassured by her bag. She didn't have that last night, so she must have gotten it from somewhere. "If you need somewhere to stay over the weekend, I'm sure my mom won't mind if I actually ask this time,"

"Nah, it's cool," she waves away your concern like it's unwarranted. Like she didn't show up at your window last night. You approach your locker. "Maybe we can do something, though?"

"Oh," Such a blunt question. You purse your lips, turning to unlock the metal door.

"No pressure," Van adds sharply. "I didn't mean like..." Her words trail off, but you know exactly what she meant. Her inability to finish her sentence confirmed that. She was asking you out like on a date. Twisting on your heel, you find her eyes cast down. Part of you knew she was awake when you confessed, but the other part hoped she wasn't. That you could just continue on like you didn't have a conversation at all.

"Should we... do we talk about it?" Her eyes flicker up to yours and you turn away, shoving books into your locker.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Van wonders cautiously. Did you want to talk about it? Talking about it would make it real. " I can pretend I was asleep- didn't hear a thing. I'm good with that."

Somehow, that makes you feel worse. Like leaving her with a secret she should never have known. You don't want to do that to her. You can't do that to her. You just needed to be brave like she was. "You... don't have to," You insist, turning around to face her. "I meant what I said." Your eyes meet. Heat rushes to your cheeks, making you glance away. "My tummy always feels funny when I'm around you. I get all hot and like flustered. I just... I don't know."

"You know, last night all I could think about was seeing you," She admits. "Everything was really shitty but you always make me feel better. You're just... so nice and kind to everyone and fucking beautiful. Even when I thought you were into Tai, I was just happy being around you."

"Van,"

"I know it's scary, but I really like you," Van admits. She takes a step closer. "Can you look at me?" she presses, and your eyes flicker up. "I really fucking like you."

A squeeze in your chest. You're not sure if it's good or bad, but you kinda wanna throw up right now. "I just don't want to disappoint you,"

"You could never,"

"But I'm not sure about how I feel," You admit. "I think I like you, but what if I'm wrong? I don't wanna hurt you."

"I get it." She's hurt. You can see it in her eyes. She's putting on a brave smile, but the rejection stings. You didn't even mean to do that. Hurt her. You wanted to protect her from that until you could figure it all out. "Don't worry. Friends still?" You shut your locker, and a sigh. Why can't you just be like Van? Courageous. Fearless. True to yourself. Was there really anything stopping you other than yourself? That desire to stay hidden. To shove the feelings down instead of facing them. "Or not..."

"Let's do something this weekend," a spur-of-the-moment thing. A quick decision. "Yeah."

"Really?" The switch-up is jarring for her. "Like a... date or?"

"I... don't know," Her eyes search your face. It's confusing. Her brow is knitted together, trying to understand. "I get it if you don't want to. I think I like you- I know I like you and you're right. It's... scary but I shouldn't push you away because of it."

"Maybe we can like figure it out together?" Van suggests. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Like you've given her the world, but in reality, you have barely moved an inch. You're still confused. "If you want to?"

"You're not worried?"

Van shrugs. "I'm willing to try. It's worth it to me. You're worth it."

You swallow hard. Mouth running dry. Your whole body fills with indescribable warmth. "We can figure it out... together," you repeat her words back to her. An attempt to reassure yourself more than here, but it has that effect anyway.

"Together," Van confirms.

"We should... get to homeroom before we get marked absent." You offer a smile. Small but genuine, which she returns. You go to walk away, when Van takes your hand in hers. You freeze. Heart beating that little bit louder.

"Is this okay?" Van queries. You take a deep breath, glancing around the hallway. Nobody was paying either of you any attention. Nobody cared. And in that moment of realisation that you're not the centre of attention, you're just a little less scared.

"Yeah. Yes, it is." You express warmly. A gentle squeeze of her hand as she leads the way down the hallway.

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do one where the sls finds out she infertile and she tells the triplets but she’s scared to tell Nate, not sure how he would react she knew he would comfort her but the fear of knowing she can’t give him kids and that he might not want that scared her

“What If He Leaves?”

The doctor’s voice had echoed in her head all the way home.

Words like low ovarian reserve, not impossible, but unlikely, and infertility rang louder than anything else in the room. It didn’t matter how gently the news was delivered. It shattered her anyway.

Y/N sat curled on the couch in her hoodie, knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the muted TV screen. She hadn’t cried yet — not because she wasn’t sad, but because the numbness was louder than the pain.

Matt was the first one to notice something was off.

“You good?” he asked gently, sitting next to her. “You’ve been quiet.”

She swallowed hard.

Chris walked in next with a bag of chips, but stopped when he saw her face. “Yo… what’s wrong?”

“I went to the doctor today,” she said, voice brittle.

Nick came in last, and her words froze them all.

“I’m infertile.”

Silence fell heavy.

Matt’s brows furrowed as he leaned in closer. “What do you mean?”

“They said it’s not impossible, but extremely unlikely,” she murmured. “My body basically decided… that kind of future just isn’t happening for me.”

Chris sat down, his whole demeanor shifting. “Y/N…”

“I didn’t even know I wanted kids until they said I might not have them,” she whispered, tears pooling but never falling. “And now it’s all I can think about.”

Nick sat on the floor in front of her. “We’re so sorry. That’s—so much to carry.”

She nodded, barely holding it together. “And I haven’t told Nate.”

Matt exhaled. “Are you going to?”

“I want to. I have to. But I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “He deserves a chance to leave if that’s something he really wants — a family, kids. What if this changes how he sees me?”

Chris leaned forward, voice firm. “If it does, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

“But what if it doesn’t?” she said quickly, panic seeping through. “What if he stays and says it’s fine but secretly resents me years from now because I couldn’t give him that?”

Nick reached up and held her hand. “You can’t control how people feel down the line. But what you can control is being honest now. And knowing Nate? He loves you. Not because of what you can give him. Because of who you are.”

Matt nodded. “And if he ever makes you feel less than enough for something that’s out of your control, we’ll handle it.”

That got a small laugh from her, watery and fragile. “You guys would fight him?”

“All three of us, immediately,” Chris said, dead serious.

She sniffled and finally let the tears fall. “I just feel broken.”

“You’re not,” Matt said firmly. “You’re hurting. That’s not the same thing.”

—

Later that night, Nate found her sitting in her room, blanket around her shoulders, eyes red from crying.

He sat next to her without a word, letting the silence stretch.

“I need to tell you something,” she said quietly.

And she did — voice shaking, eyes down, waiting for him to flinch, to sigh, to change.

But instead, Nate reached for her hand.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re… not upset?”

“I’m heartbroken for you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up at him, disbelief swimming in her expression.

“I didn’t fall in love with you because of the life we might have someday,” he said. “I fell in love with you because of the life we have right now. And I’ll keep choosing that, every single day.”

This time, when she cried, she let herself fall into his arms.

And for the first time since the appointment, the weight of it all didn’t crush her.

It finally started to lift.

⸻

[juicycoutureheaux]

Pairing: Mark Grayson x TransferStudent!Reader

A/N: This is inspired by @wordsofwhimsy southern belle reader. As a girl from Georgia, I loved the idea of a transfer student from the south. This is short fluff, I don’t know if I’ll turn it into a multi chapter or keep it as just a fluffy one shot. This is definitely AU. I didn’t know how to fit in Amber into this if it becomes multi chapter.

No TW’s.

Y/N tapped her pink-painted nails on the desk, a soft rhythm filling the quiet classroom. Her gaze wandered out the window, where a squirrel was in a full-blown loop of climbing up and down the same tree. It was almost funny enough to distract her from the knot in her stomach.

She was early. She was always early—part nerves, part habit. Her family had just moved up from South Georgia, and this was her first day as the new kid. She had gone to the same Christian school her entire life. Now, she was a senior in a public school where cliques were sealed shut, and no one knew her name.

The culture shock hit hard. No uniforms, for starters. She hadn’t known what to wear. Her first day outfit—a Lily Pulitzer shift dress and white cardigan—made her stand out like a highlighter in a sea of hoodies and skinny jeans. She tried not to let it get to her. She liked the way she dressed. That should be enough, right?

Today she wore a pink gingham dress and the same monogrammed cardigan. A delicate strand of pearls sat at her collarbone, and her golden-brown curls were half-pulled back with a ribbon. She felt like springtime in a room full of November.

The classroom door banged open.

A tall boy with black hair rushed in, clearly late. His backpack half-zipped, one shoelace untied. He scanned the room quickly—and his eyes landed on the open seat next to you..

He hesitated.

“Is this seat taken? I mean—of course it is, I’ll find somewhere else—”

“Wait!” You blurted. “It’s not. You can sit here.”

He blinked, caught off guard. Then offered a crooked smile. “Thanks.” He sat, dropping his bag with a thud. “I’m Mark.”

“I’m y/n.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, heart fluttering. He was the first person to talk to her all morning.

Mark gave a little nod, but the silence crept in quickly. You cleared your throat.

“So… how long have you gone to school here?”

Mark straightened in his seat. “Since freshman year!” he said a little too enthusiastically. His ears turned pink.

You giggled softly. “That’s awesome. Have you lived here your whole life?”

“Yeah, born and raised. You’re not from around here, I’m guessing?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Kind of.” He grinned. “You dress like you walked out of a magazine ad. In a good way!”

You blushed. “Thanks. I’m from Savannah. I used to go to a private Christian school. We had uniforms, so this whole ‘pick your outfit every day’ thing is… kind of intense.”

Mark laughed. “Honestly, uniforms sound great. Half the time I just wear whatever smells clean.”

She laughed again, brighter this time. “I kind of miss the simplicity. And the style here is so different—dark colors, graphic tees. I feel like a cupcake in a room full of Hot Topics.”

Mark’s gaze dropped to her dress for the first time. “Well, I like cupcakes. Especially pink ones. You look… um, really nice.”

She tilted her head. “Like Barbie?”

He winced. “Okay, that sounded better in my head—”

“No, no! I love Barbie.” Your eyes lit up. “She has, like, a thousand careers. What’s not to love?”

Mark chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Before he could say anything else, the teacher called class to order. They shared a textbook since Mark had forgotten his. Anna didn’t mind. She liked the way he kept whispering sarcastic comments during the video about photosynthesis. She had to bite her lip not to laugh out loud.

When class ended, Mark stood up slowly, surprised when you stood next to him.

“What’s your next class?” he asked.

“English, I think? Room 208?”

“No way. Me too.” He smiled. “Guess you’re stuck with me again.”

You blinked. “I’m never this lucky.”

Mark’s eyes widened, and he flushed. “Uh…”

“I mean—just having a friendly face in two classes. That’s all.” You fumbled over your words.

He smiled, heart pounding. “Where in Georgia did you say you were from?”

“Savannah. It’s all old trees and humid summers. And way too many tourists.”

“I’ve only seen it in movies. It sounds nice.”

“Yeah… quieter than here. And nobody wears all black.”

Mark laughed. “So is it a rule where you’re from? Skirts and pastels?”

You giggled. “Not a rule, just… tradition, I guess? It’s how my mom dressed, and her mom. It’s kind of fun, dressing up every day.”

“Well… I think it suits you,” he said, looking genuinely impressed now. “You make it look cool.”

Before you could respond, a tall, broad-shouldered blonde guy swaggered up.

“Grayson,” he sneered, eyeing Mark. “This guy bothering you?” he asked you, full of mock concern.

You blinked. “Do I know you?”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “I’m just wondering what a girl like you’s doing sitting next to him.”

You crossed your arms. “Weren’t you just leaving?”

Todd squinted. “What?”

You tilted your head, voice sweet as honey. “You said you were leaving. Or… was that wishful thinking?”

Todd’s face turned pink. “Uh—whatever.” He turned and walked off, mumbling something under his breath.

Mark stared. “He never leaves without trying to embarrass me. How did you do that?”

Anna smirked. “Gaslighting.”

They both laughed.

“Seriously,” Mark said as they walked down the hall together, “you’re kind of amazing.”

You smiled. “You’re kind of the first person who’s been nice to me today. I think I’m keeping you.”

Mark’s heart did a backflip.

[klarolinexluv]

No matter who you ship her with, the other is always down bad for Lily Evans because they don’t take lightly to someone messing with her.

James Potter? Well that’s self explanatory. He’d do anything she asked, anything. Nothing is too big or small. You wrong Lily and James is looking over her shoulder with the biggest grin, the kind of grin that is terrifying to see because rage is burning in his eyes. You’ll know he is planning something but you will never know what until it’s too late.

Regulus Black? Would kill for her, without question, without hesitation. He would go to any lengths, any means necessary to protect and love her. You say something remotely negative against her, (like whispering she has weird hair or something) and you will find yourself in a world of trouble. The rumours that come out about you will be unstoppable and so believable. You wouldn’t even know who started them but Lily knows.

Barty Crouch Jr? Would also kill for her but would deny he ever did it to everyone including her. Barty is so unhinged in how he looks after what he perceives to be his and Lily is no different. Think Regulus but without any restrictions/restraint (because Reg never goes too far, Barty crosses that line gleefully).

Evan Rosier? You said something he didn’t like about Lily? Damn, I hope your aunt recovers from that horrible poison she’s suffering from. Your best friend is ill? How worrisome, here give them this cookie. Nothing bad will happen, promise. Oh, you’re struggling in a class? That’s too bad, here have this potion, it helps with focus… no there aren’t any side effects, don’t worry about it.

Pandora Lovegood? You don’t see her coming until it’s too late. She will tear anyone a new one simply for looking at Lily wrong. You don’t even think that she will do anything, she’s so nice and sweet and suddenly you are hanging from your ankles outside the great hall with no way down, you’ve been there all night.

Mary MacDonald? You will never escape her glare. EVER. You slight Lily once and Mary will hold a grudge for all eternity. She will constantly bring up things that embarrass you casually into conversation and act like that was a normal topic to talk about. She’ll basically make your life an uncomfortable mess until she grows bored of playing with you. She will never forget what you did and she will randomly start up again later just because she can.

Narcissa Black? You will never step foot outside your house ever again. Your reputation would never recover. You’d be the laughing stock of society. People will stop talking when you approach them. You’re social life would be so awkward to nonexistant. And Narcissa will catch your eye and smirk so cruelly, you’ll quickly leave without second thought.

Marlene McKinnon? She is constantly around you for some reason. Constantly lurking. She offers to be your partner in class and has a glare so strong that nobody argues. She is constantly making snide remarks to your face about you. Little things that will get on your nerves. Marlene makes your life unbearable and then when it gets to a point where you are going to break, she’s suddenly gone. You are left on the edge of your seat waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’ll pop up every so often just to keep you on edge.

Dorcas Meadows? She isn’t afraid to use her beaters bat. It’s not that she carries it around her all the time but it definitely feels like it. She never makes the threat, not verbally anyway. But she’ll stare you down with her bat in her hands, swinging it or just playing with it to make the unsaid obvious. Once on Dorcas’ shit list, it is very hard to leave it.

Remus Lupin? He is the type to sit back and wait. Let you make the mistake of insulting Lily and then he will watch as your life falls apart. You worked for hours on an essay but now it’s missing? Oh and it’s due tomorrow and it’s like the biggest paper for your grade? How awful. He’ll make you think you are losing your mind, constantly moving or taking your things without you noticing and putting them somewhere else. He’s pulling Lily to his chest and glaring so coldly over her shoulder, most if not everyone will be scared off.

Sirius Black? He will prank you. Without mercy. And you will know he is pranking you because he is always there when it happens. Itching powder in your clothes. Dungbombs in your bag. Hexing your shoe laces together. Sticking charm on your seat. Everything. He will hold a grudge for the rest of his life, you wrong the people he calls his own, especially Lily and you will never know peace again. Sirius would also go to extreme lengths to make Lily feel protected and loved.

[tanobatcher]

heyyyy!! looking for a hurt/comfort + angst + soft!Hunter fic where the f!reader starts to notice how overstimulated he gets sometimes. how he winces at loud noises, flinches under bright lights, or rubs his temples when he gets overstimulated. she gently asks about it one day, but he brushes it off like it’s nothing. but later she finds him alone in his quarters, trying to quietly ride out a brutal headache caused by sensory overload. this time, she doesn’t ask any questions. she just helps him. maybe she dims the lights, speaks softly, massages his scalp, sits beside him in silence. something intimate but comforting like that. would love if he eventually lets his guard down, maybe whispers something like “you don’t have to do this,” and she responds, “you don’t have to deal with it alone.” just all the soft, quiet vulnerability stuff. thank you <3

waves

hunter x fem reader

summary: basically what the request says lolz sorry writing summaries is actually my worst nightmare so i will take advantage of the detailed-ness (??) above <33

warnings: none

a/n: i decided to make this more pabu civilian brainrot because post tbb finale life is all i think about tbh. also sorry for the delay on this, im wrapping up finals season 🥲

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚

You haven’t seen Hunter in a while. A little over one day, to be exact, but that feels like a long time when his presence is usually so noticeable across this tightly acquainted island. It’s unfair to say that he and his brothers stick out like sore thumbs in any crowd, and yet, it’s also true. There must be a different reason why your eyes always search for his specifically, though, lighting up when you’re successful. For this same reason, a pestering observation has caught your attention during moments he believes go largely unnoticed or ignored.

He’s oddly sensitive, not just to the weather but also to sounds that often fall into background noise for you and anyone else. He doesn’t like being in the sun for too long, only holding out for Omega when she spends her afternoons at the beach. “Did you sleep well?” You frequently ask him whenever he’s near enough for a conversation. And to this, he often shrugs before answering, “Better than what we’re used to.”

“It’s quiet here,” you would say back, thinking that makes this place the easiest in the galaxy, “Is it quiet for you, too?”

But again, it’s only quieter than what he’s used to. He doesn’t bother explaining that it’s almost too quiet, for he can hear skittering footsteps and the brush of wind against walls much better than the average person. He doesn’t bother telling you that he’s far from normal in that way, simply dealing with the noise as he always does. His discomfort extends beyond little irritations that he’s lived with his entire life, though. Sometimes, you find yourself craning your neck to look for him when he disappears like he needs a break from…everything. The last time you followed to ask if he was okay was the last time you tried to talk to him.

And now, according to “intel” you extracted from word of mouth, he’s holed up in his room on an exceptionally bright and hot summer day. There’s no response when you knock on his door, but you know he’s inside. The silence is worrisome, just like his sporadic absences, so you gently twist the knob while saying, “Hunter? It’s me.”

The room isn’t dark enough for you to miss the shape of his figure lying on the floor with his arm draped over his face. You’re unsure if he’s aware that you’re even here, standing under the dim light as all your questions about why he’s not outside like everyone else drain away. These curiosities are only replaced with more concern. He’s so still and calm, but he looks like he’s in pain. You frown, not knowing what to say, so you don’t say anything at all. Kneeling before him, you reach forward to touch his cheek, stopping when he catches your wrist in his other hand.

His eyes are still closed, and his voice is hoarse when he tells you, “Leave. Please.”

You ignore the way your stomach hollows out at this, wiggling yourself free from his grip to touch the back of your hand to his forehead. His temperature isn’t particularly alarming. Touching him might have been a mistake, though, because you can’t bring yourself to pull away anymore. You’re hesitant as you sit on the floor with him, gently pulling his head into your lap before swiping some of his messy hair out of his face. His eyebrows twitch in reaction, but he doesn’t fight you off like you expected. He lets you run your fingers through his hair, silent other than the sigh he exhales when you begin rubbing circles along his temples.

Some sunshine casting across the floor draws your attention away from his face to his window. The curtains are slightly strewn apart, letting this sliver of light paint a long line through the hardwood. You’re about to get up to close it more tightly when he notices your hands have slowed down and whispers, “Don’t stop.”

You relax your posture again, shifting him even closer as you whisper back, “I just want to close the window.”

He opens his eyes and looks up at you. “It’s fine.”

His stare makes you squirm, so you turn away from him a bit and sweep your gaze across his room. It’s emptier than you thought, with most of his belongings packed away in boxes and left to your imagination. Perhaps he still isn’t fully settled in yet. Your thoughts are startled when his fingers brush against your jaw, lingering until you glance at him in surprise. He meets your eyes with a certain heaviness behind his own before closing them, sinking into your touch despite his instinct to push you away before. It doesn’t seem like he’s fully processed this moment, maybe treating it like a dream as he simply breathes at the pace of your touch. Slow and patient, waiting for nothing in particular except for more.

“What happened?” You ask quietly, “Why are you down here?”

“Just dizzy.”

“You didn’t fall over, did you?” You slip your hands into his hair again, feeling for any signs of collision.

“No,” he nearly smiles, “But that feels good.”

Your cheeks warm, and the room is silent once again from your lack of response. You’re unsure how to carry this conversation forward until you look at him again and decide you don’t need to. He appears to be more at peace than just a few moments ago, as the lines across his face loosen like the rest of him. You feel that you can watch him this closely forever. Minutes pass into the double digits from the time you lose track of until you notice that his breathing is now a little quieter and shallower. Maybe he’s close to falling asleep, so you try to figure that out for yourself without disturbing him. Leaning downward, your heart seizes in your chest when your mouth positions itself to be hovering over his. He looks even prettier up close, where you can see the dark coloring of his tattoo absorbed into his tan skin. There are some creased indentations here and there, too, and you imagine him laughing loudly with his family—people he might have less trouble opening up to, at least. You’d like to be one of those people, one day.

Your next decision surprises even you as you press your lips to his forehead so lightly that you don’t think he feels it. Not until you pull back a bit and find his eyes open, heavy-lidded but still staring at you. Your faces are still close as you murmur, “Let’s get you back in bed.”

He doesn’t protest as you sit him up slowly. You pause before guiding him toward his bed, realizing that he’s far from weightless. Still, you manage, and he rolls onto his side with a slight groan. You assume he’s not watching you cross the room to close his curtains, but his eyes follow your movements despite pulling against his fatigue. They’re sealed shut when you return to his bedside, sitting at the edge of the mattress while wondering if you’re taking up too much space already. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, you trail a gentle caress down the side of his face and look at him closely.

“Does this happen often?” You murmur.

He adjusts his position so that he’s lying on his back now, which forces your hand to fall toward his chest. Blowing out a breath, he answers, “More or less.”

A frown tugs at your lips at this. “How do you deal with it?”

“I just wait it out. It comes and goes.”

“I see.”

Pressing his head back into his pillow, he sighs and says, “I’m fine now. You don’t have to stick around.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you reply.

He opens his mouth to respond, wincing sharply instead of saying whatever he had in mind. Startled, you shift forward and cup his face with both hands, swiping your thumbs back and forth to soothe him out of whatever is bothering him at the moment. He’s breathing a little heavier now, staring at you as he calms the rise and fall of his chest. You don’t say anything as you lean over him and begin rubbing his temples again, occasionally stroking his hair since he seems to like that. The silence must feel better for him, too, since he finds the energy to rasp, “You don’t have to do this.”

You steal a touch to the tip of his nose while reassuring him, “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

He closes his eyes and releases a halfhearted chuckle. “It’s nice outside.”

“It’s nice in here, too. I…like what you’ve done with the place.”

“You can skip the flattery,” he mutters under his breath.

“No,” you stifle your laugh, “No, I mean it. Truly.”

“Uh-huh.”

You let him have the last word, smiling to yourself as the lines on his face relax more and more from the passing time. Any twitches of discomfort don’t slip under your radar, to which you respond with a soft whisper that reminds him you’re here. At one point, you find yourself curled up beside him while brushing your hand across his cheek and skimming the wilder parts of his hair. There’s enough space between your bodies for you to know he’s probably not planning on touching you in return—maybe he isn’t even thinking about it. Or so you believe when you pause, believing he’s sound asleep and safe from his pain. Just when you’re about to retreat, he reaches quickly and laces your fingers together before placing your joined hands in front of his lips. You feel the ghost of a kiss against your knuckles, but it spreads flaming goosebumps through your skin as if it’s something more.

You think you’re quiet enough when your breath hitches, but he hears and opens his eyes. He sees you so clearly despite the hazy darkness. Your vision hasn’t fully adjusted to capture the dark pupils staring right at you, seemingly telling you something you’re not sure you understand beyond this moment. Nonetheless, you feel his observation—his desire to keep you close. And he feels you, skin to skin, with only your palms and pulses. He feels your heartbeat quicken and leap, somehow controlling what he doesn’t know he has full access to. He feels your body like it's his own, vaguely hearing the ocean below pulling and crashing in the distance. In waves that collide before subsiding, like the way he imagines you. So near, and yet so far from the distance he tries to create himself. You would cross any island to prove him wrong, though. And you’d stay right there with him.

[theartofwoompwoomps]

I never knew we could coexist together 

Shadow x reader

Summary : shadow is surprised to learns that humans understand grief. And he learns it from the human that’s the most tolerable and happiest in his life. 

———————————————————————

“Do you really think you could ever understand.” 

His voice ragged and tight from the anger. There’s no way anyone could understand what he lost. Especially not you…

You have everything. A happy family, friends, a place in this world. 

 he had nothing…

Sure others may have accepted him, yet it has never been the same and it hasn’t ever taken the pain.

Someone as happy as you wouldn’t and shouldn’t ever understand his pain. 

His grip getting tighter in his hand, he can feel himself shaking a bit as he lowers his eyes to the ground.

He feels bad for snapping at you. He wasn’t expecting to have all his pent up anger explode on you. Finally the shame starts crawling it’s way and he was getting ready to leave. He didn’t want to see your face.

Not right now, when he feels so angry with you even though you’re the only one thats stuck around. 

All his emotions are spinning all over his head just waiting for another opportunity to explode, and he does not want you to be at the end of it.

Without saying anything else, he keeps his head down as he turns to leave. 

But just as he’s a few steps away his are is pulled back quite forcefully towards you again.

“What do you think you’re doing—“

You hugged him.

Holding tight making sure you won’t let go of him. He tenses a bit not fully processing what you’re doing. 

Why are still trying? Why do you still care even if he hurt you? He doesn’t deserve you.

Before he realizes it, he’s holding you close as well. 

Nothing is said between either of you, he’s simply shaking a bit in your arms as you rub his back a bit.

Memories come back to him. Those of maria, his actions, and of you.

Small tears roll down his cheeks but he could care less at the moment. “It hurts.” His voice broken and tired from all the pain that never goes away.

You hugged him a bit tighter as you whisper a bit into his ears, “I know shads, i know.” Not daring to let go or abandon him in this moment, you wait it out. Feeling your own tears slowly dropping as well as his cries intensify.

He feels like he just got ran over, but at least you’re still there, holding him. Both of you more calmed down from the whole ordeal. 

He finally decides to let go from your embrace and you let him. 

He sits on the ground and you follow along and sit next to him. Just waiting to see who’ll be the first to speak.

Surprisingly after a few minutes shadow softly starts speaking, “i don’t want to talk about it.” His brows furrow a bit, “i appreciate your kindness, but I don’t like speaking about my pain.” 

He feels you caress his hand. “That’s okay,” holding it firmly when turns it offering you to continue your action of affection, “i understand that pain can be hard to share.”

He turns to see you, eyes glazing over you face wondering what ever could have caused you pain to make that expression.

“You might be surprised but humans suffer from many things. Some of us are just a little better at pretending nothing’s wrong.” 

“Doesn’t it hurt to do that?”

You look over, seeing his worry through his eyes. “Of course it does. Suffering is always painful.” Your eyes and hands never leaving one another. Sharing more emotions this way than any words could describe.

You lean a bit onto him, “but you know,” he reciprocates as you continue, “i think that’s a reason why there’s so many of us in the first place. Maybe so we could  help each other through the pain… it’s too bad many seem forget the value of this”

He shifts a bit as he feels you move again. This time you’re kneeling a bit in front of him. 

“That’s why I’m so glad that I at least have you in my life.”

His heart twinges a bit, feeling guilty for trying to ever push you away. And you notice it before he even says anything.

“Please don’t shut me out,” you’re hugging him again.

And he hugs you back, holding you softly as he feels your breath on his shoulder. Your actions and words melting all the doubt and numbing the pain. He’s comforted knowing that you’re not going nowhere, staying right there with him.

“Im glad that it’s you, and not anyone else at my side.”

———————————————————————

masterlist

[somuchforahobby]

interrupted (pt. 3)

Part 1 ; Part 2

Summary: obi-wan & the reader explore their mutual desires through force bond in the middle of a strategy meeting

Tags: I have waited my whole life to say this #INAPPROPRIATE USE OF THE FORCE LETS GOOOOOO

Warnings: implicit sexual topics, nothing graphic

Word count: 1.5 k

Read on AO3

Strategy meetings were usually boring, mostly because you were still a knight and not allowed to speak, just sit and listen next to your master. The lights were dimmed, everyone focusing on the projection with the planets that were under the separatist’s grip. Bored to death and in urgent need of a distraction, your force signature brushed the man’s in front of you.

‘Sit properly, Kenobi’ you whispered into his mind.

He startled, looking over at you with furrowed brows, then answers in a surprised and unexpected, ‘what the fuck?’

You bit your lower lip to hide your smile, your sultry eyes on him.

‘Sit properly. You’re nearly lying on the chair.’

He looked at you with furrowed brows, but straightened nonetheless. ‘What are you doing?’ He asked.

‘I am bored, I thought to bother you a bit’

His eyes returned to the projection, and you think he will shut you out of his mind for good but instead.

‘On the contrary. This meeting just got much more fun.’

‘I am trying to find a place where we won’t be interrupted’

The smallest smirk played on his lips. ‘interesting place you choose, surrounded by the council’

‘they can’t reach us in here, nor prohibit us from anything’

‘the mind is the first place where the dark side lurks’

You snorted but quickly disguised it as a cough. “Are you alright?” Master Billaba asked you.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just a cold”

She kept talking about the possibility of an army but you returned to your friend’s mind.

‘careful’ Obi-wan teased.

‘you really are a prude’ You see the corners of his mouth quirk up.

‘is that so? don’t speak like that to a master’

‘master my ass’

‘is that an invitation?’

‘not to a prude’

Obi-wan places one elbow on the table and his chin on his palm, covering his mouth just enough to hide the smirk growing on his face.

‘You can always prove me wrong’ you pressed.

‘Oh I will, soon enough.’

‘Show me’

‘What?’

‘How you’d prove me wrong’

‘Right now?’

‘what? Are you afraid of getting caught? It’s your mind Kenobi, you choose who can have a glimpse of it’

‘You are having a glimpse without my approval’

‘Because your guard was down. Lock us inside and show me.’

‘Where could I begin?’ 

He shows you the hallway kiss.

‘Lame’  

‘You show me something interesting’ He dares you.

‘Aright’ 

You show him a memory of sparring combat.

He was pining you down, his blue lightsaber on your chin. Two of his fingers are solemnly raised pointing at your cuffed wrists above your head. Through the bond you share the thoughts in your head at the moment: your mind is spiraling into his damned fingers, right above your eyes, keeping your hands in place. You think you can still fight him off but the distraction was too great, too much of a liability, so you decide to surrender.

“Pax” you say. 

Your gaze lingers on his fingers as he turns off the saber and clasps it back on his waist.

‘Your turn.’ The projection stops. 

When you look at him he is not quite smiling, but you spot a faint blush on his cheeks. You feel a growing warmth in the bond.

‘That’s cute’

Then you are seeing yourself from afar; your hair is tousled and your clothing is slightly out of place. You are training with Master Windu. Your brows are furrowed in concentration, but Obi-wan’s gaze is spotting the curve of your back when you lean to defend; the dim shadow on your legs when you take a step, marking the muscle beneath.

He notices your tunic is crumpled on your bicep and a thin black strap wraps on your shoulder. He can guess what it is just fine, but knowledge of the garment doesn’t stop the growing desire.

He’s enraptured by the movement of your neck on every breath, the muscles of your shoulders when you raise your saber. He tries to think of your polished warrior qualities, tries to see you strategizing against one of the greatests masters in the temple, but all he can think of is to follow that damn bra strap down your chest and have you gasping for air like you are as he watches.

The memory snaps and now you are the one who’s blushing. 

‘Still lame?’ He questions you. 

You don’t answer, instead you show him the hallway of your personal rooms. It’s late at night, your arms are full of books, walking back from the library on one of Windu’s reading assignments when you halt around the corner. Obi-wan is there, pushing a woman against the wall. She is not a jedi, that much you can tell from the type of dress she is wearing. 

His lips are on hers and by the sounds she makes you guess he is good at it. Her leg is on his waist, one of his hands is climbing up her thigh. You can see how her skin reddens at the contact, but your gaze is locked on his fingers conquering like they own it.

‘Stop it’ He orders you, snapping the image away. ‘I didn’t know you were there’ 

‘It was an interesting discovery’ You swallow at the memory of his hands clutching her thigh. ‘Proof that you are not completely prude’

‘Why did you show me that?’

‘Because you looked hot’ 

Obi-wan coughed, all the masters turned to him with furrowed brows. 

“Rounding the room, a flu is” Master Yoda mused.

“Apologies, master. Please continue.” Obi-wan politely nodded to the elder.

His ears are crimson when he looks at you, but his attention returns to the meeting.

‘Game on, my dear.’ His signature force nuzzles yours.

He shows you the training room again, but this time he is the one you are facing. Your hair is flowing freely on your shoulders, hiding his main distractor: your neck. So he focuses on the task at hand, he attacks and blocks, rises and duks; the sound of your breathing hitching in his brain. He’s bewitched by that rapid motion, in and out with an occasional scoff. Your brows are furrowed and your lower lip is being tortured by your own teeth. He thinks of seeing you like this underneath him, so it makes it come true.

With a wave of his hand your lightsaber is off your grasp.

“Obi-wan!” You whine, further fueling his fantasy.

His feet are quick to unbalance you, grabbing your waist as he guides you to the floor.

You fall on your back agape, your brows furrowed and your eyes decisive. 

You try to raise again and that’s when his lightsaber goes to your chin and his fingers pin your hands above your head.

Straddling you, he looks at you from above.

It’s the same sparring session you showed him, but from his perspective.

Then you are somewhere else but you keep seeing the same: your hands above your head, your furrowed brows. He replays your harsh breathing and the feeling of his hand on your waist, your whines of his name and that damned black strap.

Suddenly your heart is beating too fast, too strong, a sense of relief is drowning your senses as a warm liquid wets your right hand. The only thing you see is a white plain ceiling that reminds you of your own bedroom.

You nearly gasp when you understand what Obi-wan had just shared with you, and the image snaps when the voice of Master Windu echoes in the room.

Your entire body is heating up, both from embarrassment and the knowledge of Obi-wan pleasuring himself to an image of you. You try to disguise your nerves as your head lands back into the meeting. 

“We need an urgent explanation, Kenobi.” Your master urges him.

Your heart stops. And by the look of Obi-wan’s face, his as well.

“Inappropriate, that is. Worried for the youngling I am.” Master Yoda continues. “A path to the dark side, his anger is. Stop him, you must.” 

Obi-wan exhales loudly. To everyone in the room it will pass as a gesture of exhaustion from his padawan, but you know is the fear of getting caught. “Anakin is” his voice is hoarse as he begins, “a very special kid. I am doing everything in my power to make him a good jedi.”

“A community task raising children is. Help you need from your fellow knights.” Yoda looked at you as he spoke.

You nodded in understanding. 

“Back to your padawan, you shall go.” 

Everyone stood up and left the meeting. You waited for Obi-wan just down the hall.

“What was that?” You asked him, still blushing.

“Oh? I thought I was the prude one.” 

He looked around before placing a warm kiss on your cheek.

You leaned against the cold stone wall, desperately needing to cool down.