#….he’s impossible to not like even just a little bit too. maybe

[jjsmermaid]

⋆.˚౨ৎ thinking about how bsf/baby daddy!jj and puppy!reader even got into this mess of raising a kid together

cw: profanity , unplanned pregnancy , smut 18+ ( unprotected sex , daddy kink , degradation , praise , size kink , accidental cream pie ) , plan b not working

in a house full of really hot people , it’s bound that the single ones are going to fuck like rabbits any chance they get. it’s science.

that’s what jj would say every time you two had the discussion of maybe calling it quits on the friends with benefits that live together with all of their friends thing you had going on. but of course , it never lasted long. you were too horny— for him specifically. he knew your body like his own , and he had no problem showing you just how much he knew you all of the time.

it’s not like you could avoid him. he was your best friend. you did everything with him. if jj maybank was anywhere , everyone knew you weren’t too far away. people noticed that you were closer to each other than most best friends , but they never commented on it. just once.

“sorry we don’t fit your social norm , john b , but i’d like to remind you that you kissed kiara once. that’s not very friendly either,” you’d reply , defending you and jj’s friendship whenever jj’s hand drifted a little too low to grip at your ass when you hugged. john b would just whine that it was years ago and he was sorry for saying anything.

later that night , jj couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth , low and raspy in your ear. “do friends do this , baby? huh? cause you’re the one always wanting my dick. actin’ like a bitch in fucking heat,” he grunted , grinding his hips into yours from behind. his entire weight was pushing you deeper in the mattress , forcing you to take everything he was giving you.

and god , you just took it , moaning back as he gave you an especially hard thrust before wrapping his arm under your throat and pulling you up just a little bit. “y’gonna answer me?” he asked , a hint of a moan ripping from his mouth when he saw the fucked out look on your face, “we just friends?”

“fuck , no , daddy!” you cried , trying your best to move your hips back into his , needing more, “please don’t stop!”

jj let go of you , causing your face to drop into the pillows again before he was flipping you both over and situating you on his lap. you whined , knowing he’d make you put in some of the work , and looked down. his cock rested against your stomach , stopping just below your belly button. “put that shit back in , pup. go to fuckin’ town,” he instructed , catching his breath and slapping the side of your ass, “c’mon.”

you lifted your hips , hand guiding him to your entrance before sinking back down into jj’s lap in one go. “fuck , s’big,” you mewled , yanking him into a sloppy kiss as you started bouncing up and down. you were swallowing each other’s moans at this point while you humped his lap as fast as possible.

“you take it so good , though,” jj smiled up at you , hand coming down on your ass again before helping your hips move, “can see myself up in your stomach,” he almost laughed , taking his other hand to rest on your lower belly and pressing down. your head fell back as you held onto jj’s shoulders for dear life. moans were floating around the room , yours mixing with his.

“shit , shit , shit. m’gonna cum , daddy,” you tried to warn him before it happened , but the head of his dick pounding into you just right was enough to make you cream around him and plant yourself on his lap.

“fuck! get off , get—“ jj whimpered , hips stuttering into yours as his hands gripped at the fat on your hips as his orgasm finally hit. you could feel his cum shooting into you , filling you impossibly more. “fuck,” he groaned , letting his head drop to your chest.

you swirled your hips when jj’s mouth latched onto your nipple , sucking it in and moving his tongue over your sick. “j,” you sighed , starting to build your rhythm again.

because shit , he’d already busted inside of you. might as well go a few more rounds. make the plan b worth it.

now here you were , sneaking through sarah’s bathroom cabinet to find the spare pregnancy test you knew she had. it had been far too long since you’d gotten your period , and you know the pill always fucked with you and your flow , but something felt wrong.

your tits hurt. so much so that jj smugly offered to suck on them until they felt better. and usually , you’d comply , but this time you smacked his hand away before going to your room. you’d been nauseous and crankier than usual. you just needed to know. so , you’d take the stupid test now and replace it before sarah noticed.

that was the plan before you looked down and saw the happy , little smiley face staring back at you. “jj!”

it had been so long since jj heard someone screaming his name like that. he didn’t hesitate to jump from the couch and come running upstairs to make sure you were good. “what’s goin’ on?” he asked all out of breath as he stood in the bathroom doorway. and then he saw it.

“looks like we should’ve stopped hitting it raw that night,” you chuckled , tossing him the test with tears in your eyes. he caught it , bouncing it between his hands for a moment before being able to properly read it.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3])

the river flowing. mushrooms and lichens growing from a fallen tree. nicky's other mom is always with them.

agatha clearly loves teaching nicky all she knows about magic, because she is a teacher at heart! and he's literally the first person she gets to pass her knowledge on to, she's relishing every minute of it.

meanwhile poor nicky is just hungry. because the fucker makes him live in the woods.

and I guess she finds it easier to be honest when it's about explaining how magic works.

oh no the way they're whispering is so cute??? and she'll keep calling it her purple long after nicky's death.

and this has been pointed out many times, but when nicky smiles you're sure reminded of how they went out of their way to find a kid who looked like aubrey plaza too

another thing that has been pointed out ad nauseam and it will be repeated again, because it's so good: I cannot heal you, like jen would. I cannot protect you, like alice would. and I cannot divine, like lilia would.

could a real coven have healed nicky, protected him, saved him from his fate? did she kill him sooner than necessary by keeping him cold and starving in the woods? agatha will never know, because despite all her love, she put her own fear over his safety. maybe nicky would have died anyway, but it's still cruel and unfair that he had to spend the little time he had on earth in such a lonely way.

agatha, despite all the mind tricks she plays on herself and on others, is simply too smart to not see that what she's doing is selfish, harmful to nicky, and ultimately futile. this is why she'd rather blame rio, and it's why she can't go to nicky in the afterlife: she can't face her own guilt.

(also, she's afraid she'll find a version of him that can now understand what she did and will hate her for it.) (and I imagine that a grown up nicholas would have had a hard time coming to terms with his childhood too.)

and still. and still. this whole mess of a person doing a terrible job at raising her son? she's also the daughter of an abusive mother who is trying to be better, she is trying to give him what she never had - love, support, knowledge. her selfish choices don't negate all the love and joy she gave him too.

and on top of everything else, nicky is about to freaking die! in modern times we'd say he has a terminal illness, she doesn't know how much time she has left with him. that is an impossible lot to navigate, especially for a person alone and carrying with her so much baggage and trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. keeping nicky so isolated is the only way she feels like she has an illusion of control over the inevitable.

agatha is not only denying nicky a coven, she's denying herself a community that would have helped her carry this burden, that would have taught and encouraged her to do better, that would have ultimately shared her pain in mourning. isn't that another tragedy within the tragedy? knowing what could have been?

agatha teaches him magic, even though he doesn't have any. maybe he was still too young, maybe he really was just a regular kid. still, she teaches him.

NOT THE DANDELION. i'm about to bite my screen in anguish

sure, sure, the time has come to go. I'm fine, I'm totally fine.

aaaaaand some more scamming!!!

agatha the ham is one of my favorite agathas. but wait, I'll make you sad again now! they're doing this shit because they don't have any money to eat. and nicky is clearly sick, and agatha is still making him do it. because they don't have any money to eat.

meanwhile witches everywhere are getting curious about the Ballad. (doesn't she look a bit like sadie sink?)

for the THIRD TIME a witch notices nicky coughing / how sick he is and offers her coven's help.

nicky looks agatha straight in the eyes and refuses to lure witches to their deaths. he stands up for himself. he disobeys.

and yes, the obvious double meaning: my other mother needs me home.

agatha forgets all her scheming and runs after him in a panic. she is losing control over him. she is losing him.

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: t cw: implied car wreck, traffic, smoking tags: pining idiots, pre-steddie, mentioned Buckingham, word count: 928

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "traffic"

-

“Remember when you had the hots for Tiffani?” Eddie asked, his feet kicked up on the dashboard as he relaxed into the corner of the seat.

“Why is she the one everyone holds against me?”

“Because she made you a doll…of yourself.”

“So? You made a little guy that was me, hand-painted and everything,” Steve shook his head and grabbed the cigarettes.

Eddie knew he was pushing the guy’s buttons and should probably tread lightly but it was so fun and almost too easy. Plus, there wasn’t anything else to do. All they had for entertainment beyond riling up Steve was watching the daylight slowly disappear. Even the radio couldn't save them as they conserved gas.

He watched the cigarette find its home between Steve’s lips and fought every urge to hold his lighter out, lit and desperate for the closeness it’d require. Instead, Steve stared off into the horizon and waited for the lighter in the van to warm up.

“That’s different. First of all," Eddie started, finger to the sky. "You asked me to make that. I didn’t do it for fun and I never sneakily cut your hair to use for realism.”

“Neither did Tiffani.”

“You sure about that, I swear we all saw a little bald patch for a while.”

“You could, ya know, you could walk to Indianapolis. I think you’d probably beat me there,” Steve huffed.

It was so perfectly Steve that it made Eddie want to scream. He was literally pushing Eddie away but wrapping it up with a neat little bow. Get the hell out of the car but also then you wouldn’t be stuck in this god-awful traffic. I'm helping you more than I'm helping me.

He’d probably give Eddie his coat, a couple of quarters to call anyone should he need to, and a snack before literally kicking him out.

Of course, that was all if it wasn’t such a hollow threat. Eddie had more than learned that in all their time together. Something he hadn’t expected to say but here he was spending a lot of his free time with The Steve Harrington. Perhaps the weirdest thing to come from this whole monsters and alternate dimensions thing was learning what made the guy tick.

“God and miss hanging out with you? I love being trapped in my van and snapped at because you can’t control the weather.”

“We don’t know that the weather did this,” Steve finally lit his cigarette and cracked the window. Eddie tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away. It was some kink Eddie didn’t know he’d had until Steve.

“Either directly or indirectly, it did. So who are you kissing at midnight?”

“Is that why you were asking about Tiffani?” Steve said, passing over the cigarette just like Eddie knew he would. It was why he didn’t light his own, he wanted to share with Steve.

“You think Robin and Chris invited her to their place for the party? Robin likes to make you squirm but that feels too much for even her.”

“Nah because then she’d had to admit she was flirting with her too,” Steve laughed, holding his hand out for the cigarette.

They were losing the last bits of daylight and Eddie started to feel a little anxious. They’d been there for far too long and they had a limited break in the weather. The longer they sat here the worse it was going to be when they finally got moving. Hanging out with Steve was starting to rub off on Eddie. He was thinking practically. It was awful.

A few brake lights ahead of them lit up and gave Eddie a bit of hope. He shook his head and said “Gross” to what Steve had said.

“So who are you kissing at midnight then? You’re not going to be doing any better than I am,” Steve poked. Eddie deserved this for getting him worked up but he didn’t enjoy it.

“I dunno, maybe our odds are about the same,” he said, feeling just a little brave as he refused to make eye contact. Even as he felt the cigarette offered again.

All of this was ramping up to something but Steve wasn’t following the script. He was on edge and quicker to fight than normal. Something Eddie usually loved and even now was enjoying a bit but that’s because it was better than thinking too hard about asking the man to be his New Year’s kiss.

To confess he’d been harboring a crush so big it was impacting everyone around them seemed the perfect road trip confession. Eddie was even blessed with traffic. Which did little more than give him more time not to pull the trigger. It shouldn't be this hard, yet Eddie stayed silent.

He sucked in a breath and tried to stop thinking about it. The more he tried to set up the perfect conversation, the harder it seemed to be.

And as mentally planned, the van filled with whoops and cheers, only they weren't for Eddie’s confession. It was joy punctuated by Steve slamming the gear shift into drive. “We’re moving!” He said, shaking the wheel. With one last drag from the cigarette, he passed it off to Eddie. “Come on, I don’t think we’ll even be late.”

“Great,” Eddie sighed and watched the moment slowly creep by like the discarded McDonalds bag he’d been staring at for the past hour. He’d missed his chance and there was no way the universe was going to hand him another. Not like that.

[niallerspayno]

About Last Night - Part 3

Masterlist

You and Louis continue to navigate your pregnancy and relationship together.

Tags: Louis x reader, a lot more fluff, smutty smut too

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

…

The morning is unbearable. It’s not the nausea or fatigue this time, but something far more insidious. You’re hot, your skin tingling, and it seems like everything the boys do only makes it worse.

Louis lounges on the couch in the green room, his t-shirt riding up slightly as he scrolls through his phone. You can’t help but notice the way his muscles shift beneath the fabric, the curve of his shoulders—God, how do you never notice these things?

Harry sits nearby, running a hand through his damp curls, fresh from the shower. You catch the glint of water droplets clinging to his neck, and your stomach flips in a way it shouldn’t. Niall is eating an apple, his jaw working in a way that you definitely don’t need to pay attention to.

Meanwhile, Liam stretches his arms above his head, his t-shirt tightening across his chest, and Zayn just stands there with his quiet, composed presence that somehow still draws your gaze.

Shit. You’re a walking hormonal disaster.

You sit stiffly on the armchair, gripping a book as though it’s your last defense, though you haven’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. Every little movement or sound seems to draw your attention: Louis laughing softly, Niall humming a tune, Harry leaning back with that lazy, confident smile.

You try to focus, but everything feels so... different.

“Y/N?” Louis’s voice pulls you back to reality, and you blink at him in confusion.

“What?” you say, a bit too sharply.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

“Fine,” you reply quickly, burying your face in your book, but you can feel his eyes on you, and it only makes everything worse.

“Sure, she’s fine,” Niall says, his voice full of teasing skepticism. “Look at her, gripping that book like it’s her last defense.”

You glare at him. “Shut up, Niall.”

“Someone’s snappy,” Harry says, smirking as he leans forward. “What’s got you so worked up?”

You groan internally, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Nothing’s got me worked up.”

“Sure,” Zayn adds with a knowing look, his sharp gaze catching yours. “You’re red as a tomato, love.”

“I’m not!” you snap, but your protest only makes them all chuckle.

Louis tilts his head, studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “She’s definitely flustered. Wonder why…”

“Maybe it’s the hormones?” Liam offers, shrugging. “I read that they can make you… you know, extra emotional. Or, uh… other things.”

That’s when it hits the rest of them, and you can see the realization dawn on their faces.

“Ohhhh,” Niall says, drawing out the word with a mischievous grin. “So that’s what’s going on.”

“It’s not,” you lie quickly, your voice high-pitched and unconvincing.

Harry laughs, leaning back in his chair. “It totally is. You’ve been eyeing us all morning, haven’t you?”

You freeze, looking between the boys, all smirking now. “I have not!”

Louis raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Even me, love?”

“Especially you!” Niall chimes in, earning a sharp glare from you.

“You’ve been checking us all out, huh?” Zayn adds, crossing his arms with a knowing, amused look.

You feel the heat in your cheeks turn up several notches. “I’m not—”

“Don’t worry, love,” Niall says, a wink in his voice. “We’re all here for you.”

“You are?” you snap, trying to sound exasperated, but even you can hear the breathiness in your voice.

Louis leans forward, his smirk replaced by something softer. “I mean, if you need help with anything... you know, I’m happy to step in.”

Your heart skips, but you roll your eyes, trying to keep your cool. “Oh yeah? You think you’re gonna help me out, Lou?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice suddenly low, teasing. “I think I can help you out.”

“You guys are impossible,” you mutter, standing abruptly to make your exit.

But before you can reach the door, Louis is right behind you, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you back toward him. “Hey, I’m serious,” he says quietly, his smirk now replaced with something genuine, something soft. “If you need anything, I’ve got you. Anything at all.”

You can’t help it. The moment Louis pulls you closer, the warmth of his body against yours, his breath against your skin—it all feels too much, but in the best way possible. Your body hums with anticipation, your nerves buzzing with an energy that you can’t seem to shake.

Louis smiles down at you, his hands resting lightly on your hips, the touch warm and comforting but undeniably charged. He knows, as much as you do, where this is heading.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice husky, his thumb stroking along your lower back in slow, soothing circles.

You nod, biting your lip, trying to suppress the growing tension between you. “I’m fine. Just... been thinking about this all day.”

His eyes darken slightly, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What, me?”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

“I definitely noticed,” he grins, then leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ve been looking at me all day like you wanna pounce.”

You shiver at the low tone of his voice, feeling the heat pool in your stomach. “Well, I’m not gonna wait any longer.”

Before you can even think about what you’re doing, you grab his hand, tugging him toward the hallway that leads to the more private part of the venue, away from prying eyes. The adrenaline and heat coursing through your veins make you bold.

Louis follows you, a smile playing on his lips, but there's something in his eyes—something that makes your heart beat faster, the anticipation almost unbearable. “You sure about this?”

You stop in the hallway, pressing your back against the cool wall, your breath coming faster. “I need this. I need you.”

It’s heated, messy, and full of pent-up desire. His hands slip around your waist, lifting you off the ground as you wrap your legs around him, the two of you moving instinctively toward the nearest private space.

When you reach a small, unused room, Louis kicks the door shut behind you with his foot, his hands already tugging at your clothes. You don’t stop him. You’re desperate for him, for the closeness, for the way your bodies mesh together like it was always meant to be this way.

His hands roam your body, firm but reverent, sliding over your waist, your hips, your thighs. You’re already tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against yours. He lets out a low groan as you manage to pull it over his head, and the sight of his bare chest makes your pulse race.

“God, I need you,” he mutters, his voice rough as he presses you back against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake.

“Then take me,” you breathe, your fingers tangling in his hair as your back arches instinctively, your body pressing closer to his.

Louis lets out a low, needy sound, his hands sliding under your shirt to lift it over your head. He pauses for a second, his eyes roaming over you, dark with desire. “You’re stunning,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his tone sends a rush of warmth through you.

You don’t have time to respond before he’s kissing you again, his hands fumbling to remove the rest of your clothes as yours do the same to his. The cool air against your skin is nothing compared to the heat radiating between you, and when his hands grip your thighs, lifting you, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

The hard press of the door against your back contrasts with the softness of his lips, the roughness of his hands as he holds you steady. He pauses for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting as the tension between you reaches its peak.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice husky but laced with concern.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling but certain. “Please, Louis.”

That’s all it takes. He shifts, his hands guiding you into position, and then he’s pushing into you with a slow, deliberate movement that makes you gasp.

The sensation is overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you completely, his body fitting perfectly with yours. He stays still for a moment, his hands gripping your hips as he presses his forehead against yours.

“God, you feel amazing,” he groans, his voice strained as he starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a rhythm that has you clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

The pace is unhurried at first, almost teasing, but it doesn’t take long for the desperation to take over. The rhythm becomes faster, more urgent, your bodies moving together as if they were made for this.

The room is filled with the sound of heavy breaths, muffled moans, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Your hands find his hair, tugging gently as your head falls back, a gasp escaping your lips as he hits just the right spot.

“Louis,” you whimper, your voice shaky as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable level.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection as he grips you tighter, his movements becoming even more precise, more deliberate.

You can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, the heat spreading through your body as you approach the edge. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and when you finally tip over, the pleasure crashes over you in waves, leaving you trembling in his arms.

Louis isn’t far behind, his movements becoming erratic as he groans your name, his body shuddering against yours as he finds his release. He holds you tightly, his face buried in your neck, both of you catching your breath as the aftershocks ripple through you.

For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, the quiet intimacy of the moment sinking in as he gently lowers you to your feet. His hands stay on your waist, steadying you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you rest your forehead against his. “Better than okay.”

He grins, that familiar mischief returning to his expression. “Good, because I don’t think I’m done with you just yet.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest, but the warmth in his gaze and the way he’s still holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world—it’s enough to make your heart feel like it’s going to burst.

...

You and Louis sneak back into the green room, trying your best to look composed, but the slight flush in your cheeks and the way Louis’ hand lingers on the small of your back make it impossible to hide what just happened.

Niall is the first to notice. He’s sprawled across one of the couches, scrolling on his phone, but his eyes flick up as you walk in. His lips immediately twitch into a knowing smirk. “Well, don’t you two look... refreshed.”

Louis scoffs, but his grin gives him away. “We’re just fine, thanks.”

“Sure, mate,” Harry pipes up from the other side of the room, his legs draped over an armchair. “You’ve got that smug post-shag glow. It’s practically blinding.”

Your face burns, and you swat at Louis’ chest. “Couldn’t you have waited until we were far, far away from them?” you mutter under your breath.

Louis only shrugs, his arm slipping around your waist. “What can I say? You were irresistible.”

Zayn glances up from where he’s fiddling with a guitar pick, his brow raised. “You two do realize we all know, yeah? You’re not exactly subtle.”

Liam clears his throat, leaning forward from his spot near the mini-fridge. “Honestly, I think we’d all appreciate a bit more subtlety. This is a shared space.”

The teasing is relentless, and despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the embarrassed laugh that escapes you. “Okay, okay! We get it. You’ve all made your point.”

“Just one more thing,” Harry adds, his grin downright wicked. “You might wanna check your hair, love. It’s a bit... tousled.”

You groan, running a hand over your head while Louis glares playfully at Harry. “Oi, leave her alone,” he says, tugging you closer. “She’s already been through enough dealing with you lot.”

“Dealing with us?” Niall scoffs, feigning offense. “Pretty sure she’s got her hands full dealing with you.”

The room erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but join in, despite your embarrassment. Louis presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “Don’t worry, love. They’re just jealous.”

You glance up at him, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “If this is what jealousy looks like, I think I’ll survive.”

The playful banter continues as you and Louis settle onto one of the couches, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. For all the teasing, there’s an undeniable warmth in the way the boys interact with you both—a silent show of acceptance and affection.

And for a moment, in the midst of their laughter and your quiet contentment, everything feels perfectly right.

...

You’re sitting on one of the speaker cases at the edge of the stage, sipping on a bottle of water and watching the boys rehearse. The soundcheck is in full swing, and Louis is front and center, mic in hand, as he belts out the final chorus of one of their songs. His voice is strong and warm, and you can’t help but smile.

It’s been a good day so far. You’ve felt more energized than usual, and being back on stage—even if you’re just sitting there—makes you feel like part of the band again.

Then it happens.

A strange, fluttering sensation low in your belly. It’s soft at first, almost like bubbles or a gentle nudge from the inside. You freeze, your hand instinctively pressing against your bump. The sensation comes again, a little stronger this time, and your breath catches.

The baby.

The baby just kicked.

“Everything alright over there, love?” Louis calls, noticing the stunned look on your face. He’s stopped singing now, the rest of the boys turning to look at you with concern.

You blink, a smile slowly spreading across your face as you wave them off. “I’m fine!”

But Louis isn’t convinced. He hops off the stage, jogging over to you with the mic still in hand. “What’s going on?” he asks, his voice laced with worry.

You grab his hand and place it on your belly without a word. For a moment, nothing happens. His brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to say something, but then—there it is.

The baby kicks again, this time against Louis’ hand.

His eyes widen, his jaw dropping as he stares at you. “Was that…?”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yeah. That was him.”

Louis lets out a breathy laugh, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “He kicked. He actually kicked!”

“Wait, what?” Niall’s voice cuts through, and suddenly all the boys are rushing over, crowding around you with wide eyes and eager grins.

“Did the baby just kick?” Harry asks, practically bouncing on his heels.

“Yes, but one at a time!” you laugh, overwhelmed by their excitement.

“Lemme feel!” Niall says, reaching out before Louis swats his hand away.

“Oi, back off!” Louis says with a smirk, still keeping his hand firmly on your belly. “This is my moment.”

“Don’t be selfish, mate,” Zayn jokes, nudging Louis with his shoulder.

Liam kneels next to you, his voice soft. “How did it feel?”

“Like a little flutter at first,” you explain, still smiling through your tears. “Then it got stronger. It’s the weirdest and most amazing thing.”

Louis leans down, his face inches from your bump now. “Hey, little man. That was a good kick. You’re gonna be a footballer like your dad, huh?”

“Or a dancer!” Niall suggests, earning a laugh from the group.

The boys are all talking over each other now, making jokes and suggestions for the baby’s future, but you’re only focused on Louis. He’s still crouched in front of you, his hand on your bump and the softest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

He looks up at you, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “I can’t believe we made him.”

Your throat tightens, and you nod, brushing a tear off your cheek. “Me neither.”

In that moment, with the sound of the boys’ laughter and the warmth of Louis’ hand on your belly, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

…

The tour bus hums steadily beneath your feet, the low vibration doing nothing to ease the persistent ache in your lower back. You shift in your seat at the small dining table, propping a pillow behind you in an attempt to get comfortable. But at 22 weeks pregnant, it doesn’t help.

“Ugh, this sucks,” you mutter, pushing the pillow onto the floor in frustration. “I swear this baby is doing gymnastics in there.”

Louis looks up from his phone, his brows furrowing in concern. “You alright, love?”

“No, Louis, I’m not alright,” you snap, immediately feeling guilty but too irritable to rein it in. “I’m sore, I’m tired, I feel like a whale, and this bloody bus is making me dizzy. Can we just get off already?”

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he gets up and crosses to your side, sliding onto the bench next to you. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, his hand finding your knee. “Take a deep breath, yeah? We’ll sort it.”

You roll your eyes. “You keep saying that, but unless you’ve got a magic wand hidden somewhere, I doubt it.”

“You never know,” he quips, trying to coax a smile from you. “I might surprise you.”

Across the bus, Niall looks up from his guitar, his expression cautious. “Did you eat this morning? Could be why you’re feeling dizzy.”

You glare at him, though it’s half-hearted. “I tried, okay? Nothing sounded good. And when I did eat, I felt like I was going to puke.”

“Right,” Louis interjects, standing abruptly and tugging you to your feet. “That’s it. We’re handling this now.”

“Louis, what are you doing?” you demand, but he’s already steering you toward the back lounge where Liam, Harry, and Zayn are sprawled out.

“She’s feeling like crap,” Louis announces as he marches you inside, ignoring your protests. “We’re fixing it. Ideas?”

Liam sits up straighter, his brows knitting. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you snap before immediately contradicting yourself. “No, I’m not fine. Everything hurts, and I’m sick of being treated like I’m breakable.”

“Whoa, okay,” Zayn says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Nobody’s saying you’re breakable.”

“Really? Because all of you have been acting like I can’t handle anything lately!” you retort, crossing your arms.

Harry exchanges a look with Liam, then stands up. “Alright, how about this: I’ll make you some tea. Ginger or mint might help with the queasiness.”

“Tea isn’t going to fix everything,” you mutter, though your tone softens slightly.

“Maybe not, but it’s a start,” Harry replies, his voice calm.

“Foot rub,” Zayn suggests, leaning back lazily but giving you a small smile. “That’s my go-to for stress. Works wonders.”

Liam nods. “Or some light stretches. I can guide you through a few if you’re up for it.”

Louis cuts them all off with a wave of his hand. “Tea first, then foot rub, then stretches,” he declares.

You roll your eyes again, but this time it’s accompanied by a reluctant smile. “You lot are ridiculous.”

“And you’re stuck with us,” Niall calls from the front, grinning cheekily.

By the time Harry hands you a steaming mug of tea, Louis has settled you onto the couch, propping your feet up on a pillow. He sits at the other end, pulling one of your feet into his lap and beginning to massage it with firm, practiced movements.

The relief is immediate, and you let out a soft sigh despite yourself. “Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad.”

“Told you we’d sort it,” Louis says smugly, his grin infectious.

As the boys continue to fuss over you—Harry adjusting your tea, Zayn offering snacks, and Liam jotting down stretching tips—you feel your frustration start to ebb away. The soreness remains, but the unwavering care and attention of the boys remind you that you’re not alone in this.

Louis leans down to press a kiss to your ankle, his touch tender. “Anything else, love?”

“No,” you murmur, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “This is... good. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he says softly, his gaze steady. “Always.”

And as you look around at the boys—your family—you realize that even on your worst days, you’re in the best hands.

...

You sit cross-legged on the couch in the green room, arms folded over your chest as the muffled sound of the band’s soundcheck seeps through the walls. It’s not like you don’t understand why they insisted you sit this one out. You’re twenty-four weeks along, your feet are perpetually swollen, and exhaustion seems to be your constant companion. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’re part of the band, not some sidelined spectator.

The door creaks open, and Niall pokes his head in. “Hey, you alright in here?”

You glance up, plastering on a weak smile. “Yeah, just resting. Like everyone’s so keen on reminding me.”

He frowns, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “C’mon, it’s not like that. We’re just looking out for you and the baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your belly absentmindedly. “It’s just... I miss being out there. I miss being part of it.”

“You’re still part of it,” he says firmly, sitting down beside you. “The boys wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t feel like it. I mean, I get why they’re being careful, but every time I have to sit something out, it feels like I’m losing pieces of myself.”

Before Niall can respond, the door opens again, and Louis walks in, his face lighting up the second he sees you. “There’s my girl.”

“Hey,” you mumble, your voice lacking its usual enthusiasm.

Louis narrows his eyes as he sits on the arm of the couch. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“She’s feeling left out,” Niall supplies, earning a glare from you.

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” you snap, though the edge in your voice is more from frustration than anger.

Louis tilts his head, watching you carefully. “Left out, huh? You do realize you’re the heart of this band, yeah? Baby or no baby, that hasn’t changed.”

“It feels like it’s changing,” you admit quietly. “Like this pregnancy is slowly taking me away from everything I love.”

Louis slides off the arm and crouches in front of you, his hands gently resting on your knees. “Listen to me. You’re not being taken away from anything. This—” he nods at your belly “—isn’t the end of something. It’s the beginning. And yeah, it’s gonna be different, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less a part of us.”

“Exactly,” Niall chimes in, grinning. “You’re stuck with us. Pregnant or not.”

Louis reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “You’re still our chaos queen. Don’t think for a second we’d let you go anywhere. And if you need to yell at us now and then to remind us of that, go ahead. We can take it.”

You let out a soft laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter. “I do miss yelling at you guys.”

“Good,” Louis says with a smirk. “Means you’re still you.”

“Now,” Niall says, clapping his hands and standing up. “How about we smuggle you a snack from catering? Soundcheck’ll be done soon, and then it’s showtime.”

You smile as Louis leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and warm. “We’ve got you, love. Always.”

And for the first time that day, you truly believe it.

...

The arena vibrates with energy as you glide across the stage, microphone in hand. At 26 weeks pregnant, performing has become more challenging, but you refuse to let that stop you. Singing with the boys keeps you grounded, reminding you that you’re still part of the band.

But tonight, something feels off.

It starts as a dull ache low in your abdomen, then shifts to a sharper, more persistent pain. You grit your teeth and push through, determined not to draw attention to yourself. Louis’ voice cuts through the music, full of charisma as always, but even his reassuring presence can’t distract you from the discomfort building inside you.

As the next song begins, the pain intensifies, and a wave of dizziness crashes over you. You falter mid-step, your hand instinctively going to your bump.

Louis notices immediately. His eyes widen, and he steps closer, his voice momentarily dropping out of the harmony.

You lean into the mic, your voice shaky. “I—I need a moment,” you manage before turning and heading offstage, gripping the wall for support as you navigate the wings.

“Y/N?” Louis’ voice is urgent behind you. Within seconds, he’s at your side, helping you into a chair. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“It hurts,” you whisper, wincing as another cramp grips you. “It’s my stomach—I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Louis kneels in front of you, his hands hovering protectively over your bump. “Stay with me, love. Just breathe, yeah?”

Back on stage, Harry notices the commotion and steps up to the mic. “We’re going to take a quick break, everyone,” he says smoothly, though concern flickers in his eyes. “We’ll be back soon.”

As the crowd murmurs, Niall and Liam rush backstage, their faces etched with worry.

“Y/N?” Niall’s voice is gentle as he crouches beside you. “What���s going on?”

“She’s in pain,” Louis answers, his jaw tight. “We need the medic.”

Liam is already flagging down a crew member, who hurries off to fetch help.

The medic arrives moments later, their presence calming as they kneel beside you. “Tell me what’s going on,” they say, their tone reassuring as they check your pulse and gently press on your bump.

“It’s like cramps,” you say, biting your lip. “And I got really lightheaded.”

After a few moments of examination, the medic looks up. “It seems like growing pains,” they explain. “Your body’s stretching to accommodate the baby, and you’re probably a bit dehydrated. I don’t think it’s labor or anything serious, but you need to rest.”

Louis exhales sharply, his relief evident. “Rest. Got it.” He turns to you, his tone firm but gentle. “You’re sitting out the rest of the concert.”

“No,” you protest weakly. “I’m fine. I can do it.”

“Love,” Louis says, his voice low but resolute. “I’m not asking.”

“Louis is right,” Niall chimes in, his hand on your shoulder. “We’ve got this covered. You need to take care of yourself and the baby.”

Liam nods in agreement. “The fans will understand.”

Reluctantly, you nod, tears stinging your eyes. “I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You could never let us down,” Louis says softly, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll finish the show. You just rest, yeah?”

The boys head back to the stage, and you’re left backstage with a blanket draped over your lap, sipping water and trying to breathe through the soreness. As Louis’ voice carries through the arena, you close your eyes, grateful for him—and for the little life growing inside you.

…

The crowd’s cheers echo through the arena as the boys take their positions on stage. You’re seated at the edge of the platform, where they’ve set up a comfortable chair. Despite your protests, they’ve insisted you sit for the remainder of the tour performances to keep you and the baby safe.

It’s hard not to feel sidelined, but the boys go out of their way to make sure you’re still part of the magic.

As Niall picks up his acoustic guitar for the next song, he glances back at you and grins. “Mind if I join you for this one, love?”

“Of course not,” you say, smiling despite yourself.

He hops down from the stage and plops onto the floor beside you, guitar in hand. The intimate sound of the strings fills the air as he strums the opening chords of Little Things. He leans into his headset, his voice soft and soothing as he begins to sing.

The audience swoons, and you can’t help but laugh as he nudges you with his shoulder mid-song. “Still got the best seat in the house,” he teases, his eyes twinkling.

Before you can respond, Louis saunters over during a break between songs, pulling you into a quick side hug. “You’re not bored over here, are you?” he asks, his voice warm and teasing.

“Not when I’ve got Niall serenading me,” you reply with a smirk.

Louis rolls his eyes dramatically. “Figures. Always stealing my thunder.”

“You’re free to sit here too, mate,” Niall quips, patting the ground on your other side.

“Tempting,” Louis says, his hand drifting to your bump for a brief rub. “But I’ve got a show to finish. Keep her company, yeah?”

“Always,” Niall says, strumming a playful tune on his guitar.

Harry and Liam check in between songs too, taking turns to chat or joke with you, making sure you don’t feel left out. Zayn even tosses you a wink from across the stage at one point, which earns cheers from the crowd.

By the time the concert ends, your cheeks ache from smiling. The boys come offstage, sweaty and energized, but each one of them makes a point to check on you before anything else.

“How’re you holding up?” Louis asks, crouching in front of you.

“I’m good,” you say, your heart full. “Better than good. Thank you for keeping me part of this.”

Louis leans in to kiss your forehead. “You’ll always be part of this, love. You and the little one. Always.”

…

You sit backstage, legs crossed and bouncing impatiently as the boys rehearse. It’s been a long morning, and at 30 weeks pregnant your body is aching in ways that make you want to scream. Your back is sore, your feet feel swollen, and your hormones? They’re wreaking absolute havoc.

You tried fixing things yourself last night—twice—but it just wasn’t enough. Now, every glance at Louis, or any of the boys for that matter, is enough to set your teeth on edge. Louis, especially, is not helping. He’s standing front and center, his shirt clinging to him just enough to outline his shoulders and back, his voice cutting through the air as he sings.

Your mind drifts somewhere it shouldn’t, and you press your thighs together in a desperate attempt to calm the growing heat low in your stomach. It doesn’t help.

You force yourself to look away, but it doesn’t matter because Niall’s there, perched on a stool, his arms flexing slightly as he strums his guitar. And then there’s Harry, who has sweat beading along his neck.

“Oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, dragging a hand down your face. You’re absolutely feral, and it’s getting harder to keep it under wraps.

Louis catches your eye mid-verse and grins, his boyish smile making your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the baby. He finishes the line, winks, and you’re done. Absolutely done.

When they wrap up the song, you’re out of your seat in an instant. Louis barely has time to register your approach before you grab his wrist. “We need to talk,” you say, your voice low and urgent.

He looks surprised but doesn’t resist, letting you tug him toward a quieter corner of the backstage area. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern flickering across his face. “You okay?”

You glance around to make sure no one’s watching before stepping close, your body practically pressing against his. “I’m not okay,” you whisper, your voice strained. “I need you, Louis. Right now.”

His brows lift, but the corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk. “Oh,” he says softly, his hand finding your waist. “That kind of need.”

“Yes,” you hiss, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve tried handling it myself, but it’s not enough. And this bump…” You gesture at your stomach, frustration spilling out in your voice. “It’s making everything harder.”

Louis lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “You should’ve come to me sooner, love,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his lips brush the shell of your ear. “You know I’m always happy to help.”

Your breath hitches, and you tug him closer. “Then help me now,” you plead.

He glances around, then takes your hand, leading you toward the dressing room with purpose.

Louis locks the dressing room door behind you, and the sound of the latch clicking feels like a promise. He turns to you, his blue eyes softening as he takes in your flushed cheeks and the way you shift uncomfortably on your feet.

"You've been struggling, haven't you?" he asks, his voice low, filled with something tender.

You nod, the weight of his gaze already making your knees weak. "It's the hormones. The bump. I can't... I just need-"

He steps closer, his hands cupping your face as his lips brush over yours, soft but deliberate. "Say no more, love. I'll take care of you. Let me."

Your breath stutters as his hands drift down your body, tracing the swell of your bump with reverence before settling on your hips. He guides you backward until the backs of your thighs hit the plush couch in the corner of the room.

"Sit," he murmurs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You obey, your heart pounding as he kneels in front of you, his large hands spreading your thighs gently. The position feels vulnerable, but the way he looks at you-like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen-makes your insecurities melt away.

"God, you're stunning," he breathes, his lips trailing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver through you, and you can't help the way your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly.

"Louis," you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

He glances up at you, his smirk equal parts playful and reassuring. "I know, love. Just relax for me, yeah?"

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt out of the way as his lips follow, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses. Every touch feels electric, and by the time his mouth finds you, you're already a trembling mess.

The first brush of his tongue makes you gasp, your head falling back against the couch as a moan escapes your lips. He hums against you, the vibration adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

"Louis," you whimper, your thighs threatening to close around his head, but his hands hold you firmly in place, keeping you open for him.

"Let me," he murmurs, his voice muffled but full of intent. "I want to make you feel good."

And he does. His tongue moves with a precision that leaves you breathless, alternating between soft, teasing strokes and firm, purposeful movements that send waves of heat through your body. He knows exactly how to unravel you, how to read every gasp, every arch of your back, and adjust his movements accordingly.

Your fingers tighten in his hair as the pressure builds, your body trembling beneath his touch. The ache in your muscles and the frustration that's been building for days dissolve under his ministrations, replaced by a consuming heat that leaves you on the brink.

"Louis," you cry out, your body tensing as the climax washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling. He doesn't stop until you're squirming from the sensitivity, and even then, he presses a final, gentle kiss against you before pulling away.

His hands rub soothing circles on your thighs as he looks up at you, his lips glistening, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Better?"

You nod, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. "So much better," you manage to whisper, a smile tugging at your lips.

He grins, rising to his feet and leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Good. Because there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, love."

You reach for him, pulling him down for a proper kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The moment is soft, tender, a quiet reminder of just how deeply he cares for you.

"I love you," you whisper against his lips, and the way his eyes light up makes your heart ache in the best way.

"I love you too," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

Louis helps you fix your hair and straighten your clothes, his smirk never fading. “You look ravishing,” he teases as he smooths a wrinkle on your skirt.

“Shut it,” you mutter, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrays you.

He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, let’s head back before they come looking for us. Niall’s got a knack for barging in at the worst moments.”

You let out a soft laugh, following him out of the dressing room. Your legs are still a little shaky, but Louis keeps you steady with his arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

The moment you step into the green room, four pairs of eyes snap to you and Louis. Niall is the first to speak, his grin so wide it practically splits his face.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to rejoin us,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Harry raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Took you long enough. We thought we’d have to send a search party.”

Liam clears his throat, trying to look serious but failing miserably as a smirk creeps onto his face. “You two are terrible at sneaking off, you know that, right?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, but the amused quirk of his lips and the knowing look in his eyes speak volumes.

You groan, sinking into a chair and burying your face in your hands. “Can you all not?”

Louis, on the other hand, looks entirely unbothered. He plops down beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Jealous, are you?” he quips, grinning at the others.

“Jealous of what?” Niall shoots back. “The two of you disappearing for a quickie? Hard pass, mate.”

Your cheeks burn as Harry chuckles. “I mean, considering how you two look right now…” He gestures vaguely at you and Louis, his eyes twinkling.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Louis says, though his tone is more amused than annoyed. He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Zayn finally speaks up, his voice calm but laced with humor. “We’re just glad you’re happy. Both of you.”

You glance at Louis, and the soft smile he gives you makes your heart swell. Despite the teasing, you can feel the genuine support radiating from the boys, and it makes you realize just how lucky you are to have them in your corner.

“Thanks,” you mumble, your voice quieter now. “For everything.”

Niall waves a hand. “Ah, don’t get all emotional on us. Just… maybe keep the sneaking around to a minimum, yeah? Some of us are trying to enjoy our snacks without mental images we didn’t ask for.”

You laugh despite yourself, and Louis squeezes your shoulder. “Noted. We’ll try to be more discreet next time.”

Liam shakes his head, but his smile is warm. “There’s no hiding anything with this group. You should know that by now.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned,” you reply, leaning into Louis and letting the warmth of the moment wash over you.

…

Part 4

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 3

cw: isolation, cold weather, injuries, lovely things, overprotective price. mature language. angst.

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three

wc: 1311

Price noticed you were no longer on the base, all that working trying to find you all gone to waste because of General Shepard. His frustration grew each day you were gone. Each day you weren’t around the four. Did it matter that it was only a week? Fuck no.

What did the General hope would happen? Delay the inevitable? What kind of foolish man did they take Price for? When he found out you were sent down from a helicopter in the dead of night to Siberia? His blood began to boil. His temper began to rise higher levels.

The man was a monster, and you were his latest victim. The medical results came in. Not that you would ever get the chance to see them. To know what you are. Why people were so keen on taking you or killing you, or both. Not just a weapon, either.

“You can’t do that. You have no right to enforce that. It’s against protocol to send out an unknown operative.” Price argued. He tried making him see the error of his actions. He had to. Not many others were willing to stand up for you. He had to save you.

“Protocol can go to hell, Price. She’s special. The intel says so. We need her. And I will do whatever it takes to ensure she’s safe and on our side. Even if it means throwing her to the wolves and seeing if she comes back to us. That’s an order, Captain!” Shepard’s voice was cold, final. The conversation was over.

The medical evaluation you received years before your imposed, forced exile had always eluded you. Your results never even reached your own hands. They left you there in the middle of the forest with your Barrett M82, SIG Sauer P226, colt python, and a Bowie knife made from Damascus steel. 

Siberia wasn’t meant to be kind nor loving to you. It was supposed to have killed you long ago. They assumed you would be dead by now. Hoped to be rid of you by now. A detriment to what they wanted. Too much of an improbable, uncontrollable unknown. A freak.

The log cabin you made into your home was relatively small, easy to miss, and hard to find within the gusts often sweeping across the snowy landscape. The trees keeping the location of the log cabin a hushed secret. A stone fireplace and varying large cast iron pots and pans. 

Stolen from military vehicles you spotted along the road to a base in the area. Indirectly helping task force 141 from afar. Nikolai said, “Looks like some of their supplies were taken, no signs of a struggle, no signs of combat, and whoever it is. Knew exactly what to take.”

Captain Price remarked incredulously as he frowned deeply, “What do you mean by taken? Nikolai, they’re either stolen or they’re lost. It can’t be any more or any less simple than that. I don’t think ghosts exist to steal supplies from the back of enemy trucks. We would know otherwise.”

“Oh, but Captain, the world is a mysterious place, full of secrets and unexplained occurrences. Maybe, just maybe, there is something, or someone, out there we haven’t accounted for.” Nikolai cooed a little too cryptically for his own good. Possibly even too mysteriously for Soap’s liking. Like he knew more.

The snap of the bear trap's claws clamping onto your leg set out by Nikolai, “See? The little mouse came out to play.” He set out a nice steak within enough reach to tempt you. Purposefully trying to make you do something stupid enough to try stealing it from him.

Price managed to take a closer look at you, Nikolai’s mouse, who bit Price for trying to touch you without consent. Feeling your wolf like teeth into his hand. Digging into his flesh, not hard enough to break bones. But hard enough to leave behind a deep enough bruise.

Your jaw locked in, making it impossible for him to remove his hand. With every movement of his met with a low growl ripping through your throat. Refusing to let go. Price didn’t know what to think. But Nikolai seemed to have his thumbs up, soap and are distressed. Where’s Ghost?

Who knew ghost would be the one to find your log cabin first? There he was. Standing outside your log cabin, staring at the crate you were parachuted down from the military helicopter. Smelling your intense sweet smell of your previous heat. The scent still remaining on the fur blankets.

The place you still go into when your heat comes around again. Tally marks along the walls marking how many times your ‘heat’ came around. The thick, soft fur blankets soaking in the hot water in the giant metal tub in the shed. Which also served as your bath tub. 

Learning your scent could attract far more dangerous predators than you. You bathed once a day when you weren’t in heat. Twice a day during the period of your heat. Once in the morning, and once in the evening. As you found it to be rather productive for your benefit.

Price sniffed around the crate you used to live in before shifting to your cabin permanently. The scent of yours is stronger than any of theirs. Their combined scent could match it. But singularly? No. They’d be drowned inside your scent with enough ease. Like a Megalodon swallowing someone whole.

“I can’t believe we missed this. This is a fucking goldmine.” He whispered to himself. “Nikolai! Soap! We’re not the only ones who know she’s here. She’s been living here, right under our nose!” He waved his comrades over, getting their attention and to come closer to what he found. 

Their footsteps grew louder as they approached. Soap’s eyes widened as he saw the state of your living conditions. The way you’ve adapted. The way you’ve survived. It’s a miracle, really. “How long have you been out here?” He asked, his voice filled with a mix of amazement and horror.

You were patching your leg up and bathing in hot water, hoping to sterilise and clean the wound. It was the sight of your naked body that made them rather peculiar. You were a miracle wrapped inside the cold, tendency to bite people’s hands if they touched you without consent.

Your clothes discarded into the corner of your cabin. Soaking in cold water to get the blood from your clothes. The atmosphere of your log cabin, warmer than what you felt on the inside. After the stitches, your leg is wrapped in clean cloth. You were about to get dressed.

The door slammed open like the gusts of wind came through like a shout rather than a soft, sultry whisper. The four of them must have found you quicker than you suspected. Another 12 months living, surviving, on your own. 

The first to enter your cabin was someone you didn’t expect to see again. Considering the two of you yelled at each other like you wanted to rip each other’s throat out. “What the fuck do you want?” You spat, your teeth still clenched from the pain of your wound.

“To bring you back. You’re in no state to be alone, you’re in no state to be left to pick up leftovers to live off again. I don’t want to hear your protests because frankly, I don’t care. You’re coming with us.” Price's voice was firm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes as he stepped into the cabin, the warmth of the fireplace hitting him like a welcoming embrace.

You stared at him. Shocked. In total state of shock. Price heard the meek, “I can go back now?” Soap helped you get dressed and patched up. Ghost packed up your things, because he knew it was valuable

[shatcey]

Jude's route

First of all!!!! I DO NOT recommend going on this route immediately after Alfons. The atmosphere on these routes is completely the opposite. Ally tries his best to make a joke in any situation to lighten the mood… It's not the light route, but Ally is doing his best to make everything less gloomy. But Jude… is so damn dark. This contrast is so huge that for several chapters I've been asking myself what I'm even doing here. But I believe it won't be so difficult with literally any other route.

Okaaaaay… (claps the hands) Let's go!

I won't say much, so as not to spoil your fun. Again I'm a very kind and generous person. You have to experience that for yourself. I can only say that this is absolutely NOT what I expected.

@.judesmoonbeauty is made a lot of theories and assumptions about this route and I tried to add a bit from myself, but none of them turned out to be true. I've never been so disappointed in myself.

But!

My wishes for this route have mostly come true. I haven't read his chronicles yet, but I think I'll find the rest where… Surprised. Maybe I asked for too little? A note for the future: I can ask for more!

Jude turned out to be completely different from what I expected (his words "perverted masochist", which are canonical in literally every event, appear only in the ending).

Kate turned out to be completely different from what I expected (I admire her and fear her at the same time, very-very much so).

The main theme is completely different from what you might expect from a teaser. Not the moon, guys, it's not the damn moon. Yes, it plays a huge role in Jude's life, but that's not the main topic.

His childhood wasn't as terrible as I thought (at least he didn't live on the streets, but maybe it would have been better if he had lived there. Hmmm).

And I still have question about where he got the medicine for Ellis' epilogue? He don't work in developing medicine. Is his trading company cooperating with a drug manufacturer? I have more questions, but that would be spoilers.

There is no information about Vivi! Like…@.dear-mrs-otome noted that there was a line about loneliness… And there was a pretty big scene with him in the Romantic Blind Love ending… and my imagination ran wild. Butler? Why is it so tempting when I think about Vivi? (Ally, don't look at me like that, you have nothing to worry about). That's all. OR… I'm really inattentive (which is quite possible). But… I don't know when I will have time to re-read Jude's route, maybe Ciele will translate it even earlier… Yes, Vivi appears here and there, but mostly to dispel the rather gloomy atmosphere of this route. But, as usual, he only shows his goofy and caring side.

I'm slightly (not slightly in the slightest) disappointed that there weren't much twin boys. Nica was a bit present, but there was more of him on Roger's route. And NO Ring at all. But… one expression on Nica's face in response to Darius' question and… I like this guy, I need to know more about him. I expect to see Nica in dramatic Mad love ending… his words hint at this very strongly.

And… just a silly joke before I say a few words to people who aren't afraid of spoilers.

In the main part of the story, Kate gets into a very dangerous situation... twice. And… saying Jude's name out loud (or just thinking about him)… will summon him. He's a superhero! (superhero music is playing).

And now my thoughts on the route… with spoilers

Depression

I understand why Jude is depressed. He has no goals in life. Life is practically meaningless. Hatred and violence… he doesn't have anything else. And day after day, he literally does the same thing. No goals, no plans… nothing. He feels that it is impossible to fulfill the promise (I believe that the level of development of engineering at that time was not very helpful). And that promise was the only thing that kept him going, and it's starting to slip away, as well.

I just thought he wasn't the only guy with depression at Crown.

Liam… He doesn't have a purpose in life either. He's just going with the flow.

Elbert… a very vague goal. It can be very depressing if you have no idea how to achieve it, in which direction to move, or where to even start… And Elbert, by definition, is depressed because of how he sees himself.

Ally… as I mentioned earlier… the same… has no purpose in life. But at least he has no desire to die. He just doesn't care.

Harrison, Williams, Roger, Ellis - they have goals. So they're fine. But some of them are very odd… I'm not judging, the goal is the goal. Everything is right if it works for you!

I'm not sure about Vivi… I think we'll see pretty soon.

Kate

I think Jude's Kate has an adrenaline addiction. It just feels that way. She said herself that life has become more interesting since she became a part of the Crown… Her decisions are very daring and putting her in danger… constantly. It's like she's doing it on purpose. She ran into a room full of armed men (to save Jude), decided to search for evidence alone in enemy territory (for Jude), and at the end of a romantic ending… she works undercover in a criminal gang (again to help Jude). She just too obsessed with him or she has adrenaline addiction. Maybe (most likely) both. It's not bad. Just… unusual.

Additional characters

I can't help but mention Gilbert. He's awesome. He's definitely someone Willy would love. Stubborn and full of conviction about what is right and what is wrong. Who is ready to do literally anything to defend what he considers right. He really looks like Gilly-bee, but… he thinks of himself as "white".

And, of course, Theo. A funny guy who has no idea where he should shut up. The whipping boy. I thought Ellis would be such a person for Jude, but they created Theo for that very purpose. I feel sorry for the guy…

Main theme

I think the main idea of this story is...

This is again my free interpretation.

So… Jude doesn't ask or demand that she do this (he's not Roger, I still not get over it). He really doesn't understand why she's doing this. He really wants to know how far she's willing to go. And the story is all about that. How far she would go… to be with him, to gain his trust, his respect, to safe him, to give him a reason to live...

Maybe I'm wrong, and this story is about something else entirely. But that's how I see it. She is ready to follow him to hell no less. It's obsessive love. I'd say it's no less obsessed than the one we saw on Will's route. She accepts him completely. And just follows the same path.

I'm Ally's Kate, and it's a little weird for me to just accept their fate. I would have struggled, tried to find a solution… I would never give up. Perhaps that's why I'll never agree with them, never delve into their stories. I understand that it's just the concept "they just have to have the same craziness to be together." And I think my craziness is too different from that.

Similarities

Some parts of this story made me feel very similar to the routes of Harrison and Alfons. I'm not saying they're the same or story repeats itself. Not at all. But some of the thoughts were so similar that it was impossible to ignore.

I haven't found Jude's exact words, but it's pretty obvious… He constantly pushes her away because she doesn't belong to this dark world. She's too bright… too soft-hearted. It was the same with Harry. He stays away from her, for her own good.

And this one from romantic blind love ending...

Once again… my very free interpretation.

This is so familiar. The meaning he puts in is a little different, but the words are almost the same. I felt the similarity in the main part of the event, but now I can't remember where exactly.

And again… there is nothing similar either in situations or in stories, just the same vibes, mood, intentions. Nothing else.

Oddity

Jude is one of the characters who literally looks at me (one of his sprites). I don't feel that way with many characters. And it's quite unnerving… It's like the very intense gaze that makes you feel uncomfortable. In the real life I pretty much get used to stares and don't feel them anymore… it was totally impossible to not feel it here.

I'm so weird...

And one more thing. I remember that on Will's route or his events, Kate kept asking him why he was laughing. Damn it, girl, he's happy. Why else are people laughing? But on this route, at least at the end of it… the roles have changed. Jude gets very angry when Kate laughs. And it's so... funny.

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

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

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

[otherone12]

Merry Christmas, Guys!

MCR x Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey! Merry christmas, everyone! I suppoused to post this december 24th... but there was a blackout in my neighborhood and I didn't have internet… so, here it is! Hope u like it!

Summary: Some of my head cannons of Christmas stuff...

- Warnings: Really cliché

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

-> Gerard

- You both decide to make gingerbread houses, but despite your best efforts to make them look Pinterest-perfect, they end up being a bit more "creative" than expected. There’s icing everywhere, and the candy decorations seem to defy any sense of order, but you both end up laughing at the masterpiece you’ve created;

- Of course you will cuddle and watch "Nightmare Before Christmas", You cozy up on the couch with a blanket and steal kisses in between your favorite songs, laughing when you both get the lyrics wrong;

- If you’re hosting the Christmas dinner at your house, he’ll help set the table, making sure everything’s in place, and then pitch in to cook something simple yet delicious—maybe even letting you take the lead, but staying close to help whenever you need it;

- You both sit together, painting Christmas balls before placing them on the tree. Each ornament is covered in little snowflakes, reindeer, gifts, and all sorts of whimsical designs. You have fun being creative, and it’s the perfect way to make the tree even more you.

- You will make garlands and have long debates about where to place each element of it;

- You both can’t wait until Christmas Eve to exchange gifts. The excitement is too much, so you agree to open your presents early. You both give each other thoughtful, sometimes funny gifts;

- On Christmas Eve, he’ll convince you to stay in bed until midday. Wrapped up in blankets and holding each other close, he’ll tell you you’re his “Christmas gift,” making you smile at how sweet and cheesy he’s being. But you don’t mind one bit, especially when you're together;

- He’ll look at you with a teasing grin, saying, “You look pretty even in this awful sweater,” as you both wear your ridiculous holiday-themed outfits;

- After the Christmas dinner, he sets up a cozy spot by the fireplace where you both just talk and enjoy the warmth;

- He’ll take you ice skating even though neither of you are great at it, and you end up holding hands to avoid falling over.

___________________________________________

-> Frank

-He'll casually walk around with mistletoe in his pocket, waiting for the perfect moment. When he holds it between you, he'll smirk and say, “Hey… I didn’t make the rules,” before stealing a kiss, acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world;

- He will probablly prank you with a fake terrible gift before give you the real one;

- You’ll settle in with hot chocolate, blankets, and maybe a couple of cookies as you watch "Home Alone". He’ll quote the lines with you, laughing at the same jokes every time, and getting cozy as you both enjoy the movie.

- He won’t be able to wait until Christmas Eve to open gifts. If you even try to hold out, he’ll beg and plead, giving you puppy-dog eyes until you finally cave and let him open them early. He’ll be so excited, it’s impossible to resist;

- You’ll decide to bake something together, but it’ll end up going hilariously wrong (maybe the cookies burn or the cake falls apart). Despite the mess, he’ll laugh it off, saying it’s part of the fun, and you’ll both end up eating your imperfect creations anyway.

- Get ready for some cheesy holiday humor! He’ll tell the corniest Christmas jokes like, “What do you call an obnoxious reindeer? Rude-olph,” and you’ll roll your eyes, but secretly, you’ll be laughing because his bad jokes are part of his charm;

- He’ll spend way too long messing with the Christmas lights—maybe they won’t work, or they’ll keep short-circuiting. But when they finally light up perfectly, he’ll stand back with a proud grin, like he just won an Olympic gold medal, and say, “Told you I could do it.”;

- He’ll surprise you with a last-minute Christmas date, where you both drive around to see Christmas lights, eating candy canes and hot chocolate, talking and laughing;

___________________________________________

-> Ray

- ou’ll spend the day watching a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies, laughing at all the overly dramatic scenes and predictable plot twists. You both make fun of the corny moments, quoting lines and sharing playful jabs, but secretly, you both enjoy every second of it;

- Ray takes charge of cooking the Christmas dinner, but you insist on helping. Despite your best intentions, he’s the one doing most of the work, guiding you through each step. He laughs and reassures you that you're the “taste tester” for his creations, giving you playful kisses whenever you offer a critique;

- You will dance together to old Christmas Songs, not like serious dance, but having fun while he spin you around the living room and stole kisses;

- He’s the type to get you a really thoughtful, sentimental gift that might be something that reminds you of a memory you shared together, like a framed photo of your first holiday together.

- Ray creates a personalized Advent calendar for you, giving you small, meaningful gifts every day throughout December. It could be a necklace, a book you’ve been eyeing, or even a tube of your favorite lipstick. Each gift is carefully chosen, with a note attached, making you feel loved every single day;

- Ray is the type of person who insists on giving you a “Christmas morning breakfast,” which usually consists of pancakes, waffles, bacon, and eggs—and he’ll serve it in bed while you both relax.

___________________________________________

-> Mikey

- : Mikey surprises you with a Christmas card, and as you read the message, you can’t help but laugh. It’s a perfect blend of humor and sentimentality, somehow making you feel incredibly loved while still getting a good chuckle;

- You and Mikey head to the ice rink for a fun day of skating. But what starts as a casual activity quickly turns into a competition to see who can fall the least. Mikey, with his trademark coolness, insists that slipping isn’t a big deal, even when he takes a small tumble, and you both end up laughing so hard you can hardly keep your balance;

- Mikey takes over the kitchen to bake you a batch of gingerbread cookies. They might not win any baking awards (some are a little too crispy or misshapen) but Mikey’s proud, and he looks at you with a grin, saying, “Hey, they’re homemade, that’s what counts.” The thought and effort make them taste all the sweeter;

- He’ll sneak up on you during Christmas morning, offering you a cup of hot cocoa and a sweet smile before you even open your presents.

- He will make you a personalized Christmas playlist filled with songs that remind him of you, including some rare tracks he thinks you’d love;

- He will probably get sentimental about Christmas, often recalling funny stories about past holidays, making you both laugh and get lost in the warm memories.

- You both will end up having snowball wars during de Christmas season. It starts out lighthearted, but soon, you’re both throwing snowballs with serious determination, laughing and dodging as the snow piles up around you;

___________________________________________

- So, that's it! Hope u liked! <3

- Tag List: @bossiestbitch @mimilovesnumetal

[ylangelegy]

LOVE&LETTER REPACKAGE ୨ৎ my favorite SVT work from 2024!

i'm a firm believer that some of the most creative writers on the internet are on svtblr. couldn't let the year end without showing love for the fics that have set the bar impossibly high when it comes to writing for SEVENTEEN. thank you to all writers for making this corner of the internet such a great place to be! ❤︎

footnotes: some of these work may contain explicit content. please heed the warnings when checking them out.

hush by @sailorrhansol

You can’t seem to sleep, but the strange man in the bar that you can’t visiting promises he can help.

hali's entire body of work is awe-inspiring, and i personally believe hush is something of a magnum opus. there's just so much density in all of her verses but hush does something that's never-before-seen when you think of this genre. it's so easy to lose yourself in the liminality of this work— throw in the premise and the dynamics, and you've got a breathtaking example of creative writing at its finest.

achilles’ heel by @pochaccoups

after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

sometimes, you can just tell when a writer cares about the character/member they're writing about. that's 100% the case with achilles' heel. it's one thing to nail seungcheol's personality; it's another thing to treat him with such well-deserved consideration. the smut is terrific, yes, but so is the love. you know that any version of seungcheol is in good hands when char is writing him.

full throttle (part one & two) by @diamonddaze01

jeonghan's not used to someone who pushes his buttons as easily as you do, and you're not used to someone who challenges you as quickly as he does. maybe it's time to go full throttle, both on and off the track.

i like to think that even if i didn't know tara, i would be absolutely insane over full throttle. there's a mix of everything here— fast-paced races for formula one fans, killer lines that read like poetry, and a full spectrum of human emotion. you're on the edge of your seat from start to finish. journalist!reader may be the best writer in the paddock, but tara is the best writer on this site.

the first snow by @junkissed

you think of joshua every time it snows. but does he think of you, too?

i feel like june has mastered the art of hook, line, and sinker. the first line of this draws you in— come for the opener, stay for the writing. this is a brilliant play on a known trope, and i was particularly endeared by how snow was used both in the literal and figurative/metaphorical sense. in love with how descriptive it was, too.

chemistry read by @chanranghaeys

in which junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read.

chemistry read is the probably the most recent work in this list. as of posting, i am still thinking of just how well haneul nailed jun's personality. there's something to be said about the relatively unconventional pairing— actor x actor fics are to be expected, so a casting director!reader is a rare treat— but the dynamics of their relationship is the real clincher. haneul has a way of writing things that leaves you wanting more, and this is a prime example.

araneae by @haologram

when you realize your friend (with benefits) actually has feelings for you, a tangled web of lies and avoidance ensues.

altair's treatment of soonyoung in this fic should set a precedent for how to write him across the board. the push and pull in araneae is superb, and the reader has the perfect amount of bite. i'm obsessed with the conflict and how it's eventually resolved, though what gets me the most is just how hoshi-like soonyoung is in this au. 10/10, no notes.

in front of me (part one & two) by @wonustars

jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolescence and early adulthood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

in front of me is a study into the human condition. not a single word in this 40k+ word fic goes to waste. it's an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish, particularly because there's a rawness to the conflicts and relationships that it presents. anna deserves all the flowers for putting out such a real piece of work; in front of me is her heart on a platter, and it just goes to show that her heart is a good one.

wonwoo + ramen by @fxstpace

“i want ramen,” you say in response to his question. “i’m really hungry.”

i've told aspen this, but this drabble is one of the first things i read when i made this blog! i adore how soft this piece is, and how she managed to encapsulate an entire relationship in a handful of words. the dialogue and rapport is riveting; the image put on your mind is a comfort. we may not always have a jeon wonwoo to cook for us, but at least we have aspen's writing to get us by.

first snow by @cxffecoupx

lee jihoon + sharing a warm kiss during the first snow of the season.

drabble-writing is a monster in its own right, but ris coasts through it with ease. sometimes, a fic can fall under the 'healing' category, and that's what first snow is. four hundred something-words of the kindness that jihoon deserves, wrapped up prettily in a story brimming with affectionate and domesticity. doesn't matter that it's a winter fic; the love here is for all seasons.

dressing as winx—musa for jihoon's birthday & god of the music!woozi x fairy of the music!reader by @hoshifighting

after a moment of lost creativity, the god of music accidentally evokes a beautiful music fairy who is willing to help him.

i've said it once, and i'll say it again, and again, and again: lyla is a cornerstone when it comes to svtblr. her work is astounding and this is one of my favorites from this year. the writing for the ask is terrific in itself, but the au where jihoon is god of the music? cherry on top. i'm always awed by how she can take a prompt and run with it; these two pieces are just proof of why she's an absolute paragon for writing, smut or not.

boyfriend shaped by @seokminfilm

Dinner with your boyfriend was something you looked forward to.

something about kindergarten teacher!seokmin just bowls me over. this is a lovely ode to the absolute sweetheart that is seokmin, and it scratches the itch of his influx of boyfriend material photos. his personality is characterized so well in this; overall, it's the type of fic that has you swooning.

stuff to talk about by @kkaetnipjeon

The sight in front of you is pitiful, honestly. Makes you wish you'd just sent Hansol straight to voicemail, like you usually do. Makes you wish you hadn't responded to that anonymous post on the student forum four years ago. Physical therapy grad student, male, 23, looking for roommate in Yeonnam area, open to all.

i fear that i've spent the past weeks screaming in my tags about how MJ is one of my favorite writers as of late, and this is the fic that started it all. i've sent this out to at least three different people, which should say just how much i adore it. the world-building is intricate. the pacing is exquisite. the dialogue is a living, breathing thing, and the characters are well-rounded from start to finish. MJ's entire masterlist is worth running through; stuff to talk about is the best place to begin.

late night talking by @junkissed

the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am.

a masterclass in writing xu minghao. late night talking is rich in emotion and dialogue, but the heart of it is in how it soothes aches that can be universal to anyone who has loved/lost/tried/failed. there's a certain vulnerability to writing angst that can be terrifying, and june put it best when i first expressed how much i love this fic: "if everybody has the same insecurities, then maybe the world is a kinder place than we all think." how lucky are we to exist in a time where someone like june can put these feelings into words.

an ode to hands and voice by @ddeonghwa-s

a moment of seungkwan fucking you, inspired by his hands and voice.

there's a lot to love in an ode to hands and voice. it's descriptive and evocative, and just overall stellar in how it handles seungkwan. what makes this so special is the intimacy which bleeds through all 1.3k words. there's some parts where you feel like you're intruding, like you're interrupting something, because the entire scene is executed beautifully.

reverb by @gyuhao5

In his clumsy attempts at trying to befriend you, Vernon slowly discovers that the pull he feels toward you might be more than purely friendly.

one of my favorite things is when writers take on vernon and you can hear his voice in the dialogue. reverb nails everything from his mannerisms to his tone, and the eventual smut is also just painfully accurate for what you might expect from him. overall: this is as vernon as vernon will get, if we're talking fanfiction.

untitled drabble by @seungcheorry

dino will be damned if he doesn't spend some time with you.

cherry's drabbles are as good as required readings if we're talking about svtblr greats. this piece in particular is short and sweet, but it packs all the right punches. the narrative choices in this— paired with the imagery and the tenderness— can truly steal the air out of your lungs. dinonaras beware; this one will do a number on you.

MORE & MORE & MORE!

seungcheol with a s/o that enjoys thrifting by cxffecoupx

seventeen as greek demigods (hyung + maknae) by chugging-antiseptic-dye

redemption (mingyu x reader) by gyubakeries

hockey player cheol x reader by thepixelelf

run (minghao x reader) by diamonddaze01

a regular korean citizen (jeonghan x reader) by chanranghaeys

childhoodbestie!chan x reader by gotta-winwin

green eyes and confessions (wonwoo x reader x mingyu) by svtiddiess

inside job (seokmin x reader) by seokgyuu

the alchemy (seungcheol x reader) by babyleostuff

staff!jeonghan x reader by hoshifighting

dove (minghao x reader) by cherryredcheol

[martynsimp69]

zombiewood enjoyer you’re so real

thank you im so normal about them. they suck so bad

[edwinisms]

you ever think about how edwin got like. no warning, no time time to process, nothing, when he reappeared on earth faced with the fact that virtually everyone he knew in life is dead. his parents? probably died in the 1950s or so (at best) almost forty years prior to edwin’s return. if any of his classmates were still around, they’d have been elderly, possibly senile, and in a few years they’d all be gone– except, of course, edwin. nothing looks the same, cars look like spaceships, there actually are spaceships, he can no longer see the stars, and everyone he knew is dead.

[dandyshucks]

need Guz to hug me tightly for like an hour solid oh my god dhdjdkl I went driving for the first time in over a year and I chewed my lip raw 😭😭

I'm starting to look like a caricature of Anxiety with all these physical symptoms and signs LMAO

[gothamhappiness]

Just in love (Jason Todd x f!reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, Batman is a bit of an ass, fluff

The batfamily was on edge because Jason seemed unusually quiet lately, in Crime Alley. They all were certain Red Hood was planning something bad.

But the reality was that Jason was very distracted by a pretty little Y/N. For the first time in his life, he was falling deeply in love to the point nothing else truly mattered to him. He was completely unaware of his former family's concern.

The first time Dick saw you, you were fast asleep into Jason's arms. Jason's book was lying on the ground as the giant guy was also resting his eyes. Dick was watching at the two of you through the window. Something warmed up inside of his chest, because things might get better for his baby brother. He hoped that Jason finally found some happiness in his new existence.

Actually, Nightwing was looking for Red Hood, because everyone was certain he was the reason behind the several buildings exploding during the night. Nightwing thought he could try and find clues at Jason's place. Instead, he saw the two of you cuddled up on the couch.

"Guys, we got the wrong guy. Clearly not Red Hood" he said over the comm's

"How so?" Batman replied

"He's currently asleep on the couch with a girl. Gosh he looks so relaxed. Maybe we all worried for nothing." Dick was almost smiling

"Let's focus back on the situation then, Nightwing" Batman hummed

The next day, Dick tried to find a way to run into Jason and you. He wanted to meet you, he wanted to talk with you. He needed to make sure you were good for Jason, but more importantly he needed to make an ally out of you. He was certain he could get Jason back in his life thanks to you.

Jason wasn't too glad to see Dick trying to be all frendly and chatty with you. However you seemed happy to listen to whathever Dick had to say and he couldn't deny you anything.

On the other hand, Dick loved being allowed to tell someone about all their childhood stories. It was making him feel like maybe not everything was lost.

Jason even smiled at your laughter and started to tell some of the stories himself, mostly to try and embarrass Dick (which was nearly impossible).

Perhaps brothers can still be brothers despite all the blood and violence.

[xo100]

Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

-

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

-

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

-

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!

[bratscave]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 THIS MEAL !

warnings/includes. sort of nsfw content, implied younger! reader x old man! logan

you sat perched on the edge of his rickety kitchen table, legs crossed in a way that made your short pink skirt ride up just a little too high. Logan tried not to notice, but it was impossible not to. His eyes trailed up from the scuffed leather of your heels to the way the fabric clung to your thighs, before resting on the innocent look you gave him from under your lashes.

"you really don't cook much, do you, mr. Howlett?" you teased, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you got up, eyeing the near-empty fridge, right behind him.

logan grunted in response, his attention more focused on the way your lips pouted slightly as you spoke. the years had made him rougher when fucking, he’d learned to channel it differently — steady hands, less rush.

but you.. well you, brought all the nasty ideas out that he thought he'd long have burried behind.

you weren't subtle, not even a little. every glance you threw his way was loaded, every touch lingered just a bit too long. he knew the type — hell, he’d had his fair share of girls like you in his youth, the 70s especially. but this time, the game felt different, heavier. maybe it was the way you looked at him, like you were waiting for him to make a move, or maybe it was just the reminder that he wasn't the man he used to be.

"i manage," he says gruffly, forcing himself to focus on the sparse contents of the fridge rather than the way your legs look in that damn skirt. he could practically hear your heartbeat, fast and eager, the scent of something sweet in the air.

"oh yeah?" your tongue trails over your lip as if you were thinking when he knew damn well whatever you were about to say was pre-planned, "what about we eat out then? something cute, nothing to fancy."

you did in fact not eat out.

it ended up with the both of you not even making it till the restaurant. his hands wander over you, not slow, yet also not to face. lifting up your skirt, inspecting, whispering filthy things into against your skin.

whispering as if there were people around, as if it was dangerous little secret to keep, you should be very careful about you being sort of a 'slut' (he said it so endearingly you almost couldn't believe your ears).

he's so talkative, talks about anything and everything in that deep, gravelly voice of his — comments on the material of your underwear, turns out he 'loves lace' and you 'should wear it more often'.

before you could process the fact that he just implied this wouldn't just be a one time thing, he was all over you again, mouth sucking, teeth bitting, the little stubble scratching your fragile skin but you didn't have time to really think of that.

and when you came, not once, not twice, thrice, in the back of his limo, made a mess of the plush leather seats, he mumbles what a good meal he just had; could taste you forever.

[fatherbrat]

the amount of sexual tension between defense attorney!suguru and you, his client.

being his client is agonizing because you know you have to maintain professionalism. he’s not a hookup, or a friend, or even a colleague. he’s your lawyer, tasked with the hefty responsibility of keeping your ass out of jail. but, god, every time you have to see geto, your resolve weakens bit by bit.

you’ve wondered how he would react if you proposed paying his fee with sex instead of a direct deposit. you'd sooner ask him to represent you pro bono—or even discharge him—before ever considering letting that question leave your head. still, you'd be lying if you said you hadn’t touched yourself to the thought. multiple times.

having to work with you isn’t easy for geto either. he wishes that you would’ve met another way, because having sex with a client is completely, totally, utterly out of the question. he dreads the meetings you have together. being stuck in his office with you sitting a less than two feet away and not being able to touch you feels like torture.

as if that wasn't trying enough, every time you meet him at the courthouse you do a little spin and ask if your outfit is appropriate enough or if you need to wear the cardigan you brought along. his answer is always the cardigan.

maybe that was the driving force behind all those late nights at the work he’d been pulling lately. putting in extra work to make sure that he won your case and wouldn't have to endure this torment anymore. (or maybe it was because your perfume lingered in the air after you left his office and he wanted to jerk off to the thought of bending you over the desk while your scent surrounded him.)

for you, having to watch suguru in court is the worst part. you can smell his cologne wafting off him as he sits next to you at the defense table, something musky and woody and just a little vanilla-y that makes you want to jump his bones right there in the courtroom. you gnaw on your bottom lip as he cross-examines a witness, appreciating his tailored suit and leather oxford shoes and the way he commands attention before he even gets up. you wouldn’t be surprised if some of the jury members were swayed by his looks. you were.

you should be listening intently, fixing your posture, and trying to portray a look of innocence. it feels impossible when suguru's smooth voice is echoing throughout the courtroom and your clit is throbbing between your legs.

it’s a relief when the jury finds you not guilty, not for the obvious reasons, but because you won’t be obligated to see him anymore. when you invite him out for a few celebratory drinks after the final court appearance, you have nothing but pure intentions. it’s the polite thing to do. the proper way to thank him. a neat little bow tied on the end of your professional relationship.

however, in the soft lighting of the bar you suggested, suguru looks good enough to eat. you want to blame the wine, but you know the reason you feel so warm is because he's laughing and smiling and looks terribly handsome with the top buttons of his dress shirt undone.

he looks at you with half-lidded eyes and leans in too close. this time, you do attribute it to the alcohol. that is until you catch him staring at your mouth for a beat too long and all of your remaining resolve crumbles. you incline your head towards him, your lips just barely brushing against his before he closes the gap.

the kiss is feverish and disorienting and definitely too much pda. there's a string of spit connecting you when suguru pulls away and asks if you'd like to go back to his office for a nightcap.

begrudgingly, you remind him that you shouldn’t. you can’t. it’s inappropriate. he’d likely lose his license if anyone found out.

he reminds you that the case is closed now. you’re not his client anymore. the two of you can do whatever you want.

that's all the convincing you need.

[solxamber]

Making Up After an Argument with: Overblot Gang + Rollo

part 2 with vice housewardens + kalim

on this day, i offer you some hurt/comfort

It’s been two days. Two long, awkward, and uncomfortable days of silent treatment between you and him. The argument had been petty—something so small that you can’t even remember what sparked it. But pride, stubbornness, and a little bit of frustration had taken over, and now, here you are, locked in a stalemate.

You’ve been tiptoeing around each other, avoiding eye contact, pretending not to care. But in reality, the silence feels like it’s stretching forever, and you hate it. You hate the feeling of distance between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You miss him. Even with him just a walk away, it feels like miles.

The realization hits you hard as you sit there, staring at your phone, hoping for a sign—any sign—that he’s willing to break first. But of course, nothing comes. He’s just as stubborn as you are. Maybe even more.

You let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back in your seat. Ugh, fine. I’ll be the one to give in this time. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. But deep down, you know you love him too much to let this go on. And you know he loves you too, even if neither of you will say it right now.

Riddle Rosehearts

You sigh dramatically, dragging your feet as you head towards Riddle’s dorm. The argument was dumb—you know that now. And if anyone could hold onto stubbornness like a grudge, it was Riddle Rosehearts. You, on the other hand, are way too tired of the silence, so it’s time for drastic measures.

As you approach his door, you pause, a silly idea forming in your mind. What’s the best way to apologize to someone like Riddle? With a flourish, of course. You rummage through your bag, pull out a red rose you happened to pick up earlier—totally coincidental, you promise yourself—and start plotting.

A few minutes later, you knock on his door, taking a deep breath. You hear footsteps, and then the door creaks open, revealing Riddle’s ever-serious face. His eyes flick up to you, then down to the rose in your hand, then back up again. He doesn’t say anything, though the faintest hint of curiosity flashes in his eyes.

Time to execute the plan.

You drop to one knee in an exaggerated, overly dramatic fashion, holding the rose high above your head like you’re a knight pledging allegiance to his queen. “My dearest Riddle, Queen of the Rose Garden, I come bearing an apology for my grievous offense. I’ve come to beg for your forgiveness,” you say, loud enough for the whole dorm to hear.

Riddle's eyes go wide, and for a moment, his face goes completely red—not from anger, but from pure, unfiltered embarrassment. He glances around, hoping no one else is witnessing this absolute spectacle you’re making.

"Please," you continue, voice wobbling as if you're on the verge of tears, "Grant me one more chance to bask in your presence! Your mercy, oh merciful ruler!" You bow dramatically, forehead almost touching the ground.

He sputters, clearly flustered beyond belief. "W-What are you doing? Get up! That's completely unnecessary—!"

"No!" You hold up the rose like a peace offering. "Not until you talk to me again! I will stay here on my knees if I must! Forever! Or until I get a cramp, whichever comes first!"

He’s torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of it and dying from second-hand embarrassment. “This is ridiculous! I—” He looks at the rose, then at you, eyes softening just a bit. “Fine, fine, just… stand up already.”

You spring to your feet, grinning triumphantly. “So, we’re good?”

Riddle sighs, rubbing his temples. "You're impossible."

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him playfully.

“Yes. But stop being so dramatic. The whole dorm probably heard you…”

You don’t care. You throw your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and for a second, Riddle freezes, stunned by the unexpected affection. Then, hesitantly, he returns the hug. He’s still embarrassed, but there’s a softness to his grip, a sign that he missed this closeness just as much as you did.

He pulls you into his room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, the embarrassment on his face fades, replaced with a quiet vulnerability. He avoids your eyes, walking over to his desk, his voice quieter now. “I… I was afraid,” he admits. “That maybe you were getting tired of me. I know I’m difficult sometimes, and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” you interrupt, stepping closer. “Where is this coming from?”

He sits down, staring at the floor. “You could be with someone more… easygoing. Less rigid. Someone who doesn’t argue over every little thing.”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you. I chose you, remember?”

He looks up at you, eyes filled with uncertainty, and you notice his hands trembling just slightly. “But what if I drive you away? What if one day you just… stop trying?”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. Before you can think, you step forward, kneeling in front of him. Without hesitation, you cup his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek. “That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

His eyes glisten slightly, the tension of the past few days unraveling as he leans into your touch. “But—”

“No buts,” you insist softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you. Stubbornness, rules, and all. And honestly, I think the petty arguments are kinda fun. It keeps things… interesting.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel a few tears slip down his cheeks. “You don’t know how hard it is for me,” he whispers. “To balance everything, to try and be perfect all the time… I don’t want to lose you because of my shortcomings.”

You smile gently, brushing away the tears with your thumb as you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. “You’re not going to lose me. You don’t have to be perfect, Riddle. I didn’t fall in love with perfection, I fell in love with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, tears still threatening to spill over, but his grip on your hand tightens as if he’s holding on to your words. “I… I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world,” you whisper, pulling him into a tight hug, cradling his head against your shoulder as he allows himself to cry softly into your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, gently whispering reassurances as he finally lets go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I missed you,” he mumbles between sniffles, his voice fragile in a way you’ve rarely heard before.

“I missed you too,” you say, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s never do this silent treatment thing again, okay?”

He nods, still clinging to you, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss against your shoulder, a wordless promise.

Leona Kingscholar

It’s been two long days of silence. And if you know one thing about Leona Kingscholar, it’s that his stubbornness rivals your own. You’ve been circling around each other, neither one of you willing to be the first to admit defeat. But the silence is eating away at you, and, well… you miss him.

So, you hatch a plan. A very dramatic, ridiculous, and completely unnecessary plan.

Armed with a large bouquet of sunflowers—because roses are too obvious—you march into Savanaclaw with all the confidence of someone who is absolutely not going to be embarrassed by this. Nope. You pass by several confused students on your way to Leona’s room, each one giving you strange looks as you carry the huge bouquet.

You stop in front of his door, take a deep breath, and knock. No answer. You knock again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Sighing, you decide to just barge in—because what’s a grand gesture without a bit of dramatic flair? Pushing open the door, you find Leona lounging on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes closed.

Perfect.

You march up to him and stand by his bed, holding the bouquet in front of you like a shield. “Leona Kingscholar, hear me out!” you declare, in a tone that’s probably more suited for a court jester than someone in an actual relationship.

One of his ears twitches, and his eyes crack open, glancing at you. You stand tall and proud, despite how ridiculous you feel, presenting the sunflowers like they’re some rare treasure. “I come bearing these humble sunflowers as an offering to ask for your forgiveness, O Great King of Beasts.”

He snorts. Actually snorts. “What are you on about, herbivore?”

You drop to one knee dramatically, holding the flowers up to him as if you’re a knight swearing fealty to his king. “Please, Leona! Forgive my transgressions! I was wrong to argue with you, and I cannot bear another moment without your esteemed company!”

Leona raises an eyebrow, staring at you with what can only be described as amusement. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

“I am but a humble servant, groveling for your mercy!” you continue, refusing to break character. “Please, take these sunflowers as a token of my undying affection and devotion!”

By now, Leona is fully awake, sitting up and resting his chin in his hand, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “Sunflowers, huh? How thoughtful of you.”

“Of course!” You stand up dramatically, thrusting the bouquet toward him. “They represent my radiant affection for you!”

Leona finally lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But do you forgive me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his face betrays his amusement. “Yeah, yeah, you’re forgiven. Just stop with the theatrics, would ya?”

You grin, knowing you’ve won him over. But there’s something still lingering in the air, some tension that hasn’t quite disappeared yet. Leona might be laughing, but you can tell he’s still a bit on edge, still a little distant.

Setting the sunflowers aside, you walk over to the bed and sit next to him. “Leona, I know it was a dumb fight, but… you know you’re the only one for me, right?”

He glances at you, his smile fading slightly as he considers your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, scooting closer. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, and you can see the tension in his shoulders start to ease. Then, without a word, he shifts, pulling you down onto the bed with him, his body practically draping over yours like a big, heavy, warm blanket. His arms wrap around you, his tail curling possessively around your leg, anchoring you to him.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, letting out a low, contented sigh. “You better not,” he mumbles against your skin. “I don’t feel like dealing with anyone else’s nonsense.”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his hair, scratching gently behind his ears. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Leona presses closer, his body relaxing fully against yours as if he’s been waiting for this. His weight is comforting, and you can feel the way he melts into your embrace, his tail tightening just slightly around you as if to say, mine.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him as close as you can, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “You okay now?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Just don’t pull that silent treatment crap again. Hate it.”

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Deal.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but the way he snuggles even closer to you tells you that all is forgiven. You hold him tight, and in that moment, with him lying on top of you like a big, lazy cat, everything feels right again.

Azul Ashengrotto

It’s been two long, dreadful days of silence between you and Azul. And for someone like him—someone who thrives on words, on negotiation, on control—it’s been absolutely agonizing. But his pride won’t let him be the first to crack. He’s stubborn like that.

And you? Well, you’re not much better.

But enough is enough. The tension between you both is suffocating, and while you’re both great at the silent treatment, it’s clear this little game of emotional chicken has to end. You’ve had enough of this cold war, and after mulling over how to make amends, you come up with the most absurd, ridiculous plan that just might work.

You stand outside the Mostro Lounge, a grin on your face, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. In your arms is the biggest, gaudiest, most unnecessary floral arrangement imaginable—an explosion of blues and purples that makes it look like you’ve picked half of the Coral Sea to present to Azul. There are seashells, ribbons, and even a tiny fake octopus plush dangling from the bouquet, like the cherry on top of your ridiculous masterpiece.

You march into the Lounge, catching the attention of several customers, who stop to stare as you make your way toward Azul’s office. Ignoring their looks, you throw the door open dramatically, the bouquet nearly tipping you over with its weight.

“Azul Ashengrotto!” you declare, bursting into his office. He’s sitting at his desk, and the second he sees you and the monstrosity of flowers in your arms, his eyes go wide. “I have come to beg for your forgiveness!”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the sheer audacity of the display. “W-What…?”

You march up to him, practically dropping the bouquet on his desk with a flourish. “These flowers represent my sincere regret for my terrible behavior during our argument. As you can see, they are over-the-top and completely unnecessary, much like my stubbornness.”

Azul stares at the bouquet, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Y-You…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself, but there’s a telltale twitch at the corner of his lips that suggests he’s seconds away from laughing. “This is absurd.”

“I know,” you reply with a dramatic sigh, throwing a hand to your forehead like a tragic figure. “I have been plagued with guilt these past two days, Azul. I couldn’t bear another moment without your lovely company.”

He finally cracks, letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only for you, darling.” You lean over the desk, waggling your eyebrows, and he sighs, shaking his head. His laughter is light, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that pulls at your heartstrings. He may be smiling, but something’s still weighing on him.

With a small smile, Azul stands from his desk and walks around it until he’s standing right in front of you. He reaches for your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles before looking up at you with a much softer expression than before.

“I’ll admit… I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “But I—” He pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if debating whether or not to say the next words. “Did you… only come back because you thought you had to? Or do you still… want me?”

His voice cracks, just a little, but it’s enough to make your heart break. You blink in surprise, your breath catching at the rawness in his question.

“Azul…” you say softly, stepping closer, cupping his face gently in your hands. His eyes dart to yours, filled with a mix of uncertainty and hope, and it almost shatters you. “Of course I want you. Always.”

He swallows hard, and you can see the tears welling up in his eyes, ones he’s desperately trying to hide. But you won’t let him. You pull him close, wrapping your arms around him tightly, holding him as if you could shield him from the insecurities swirling in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple. “I love you. I’ve always loved you since I met you, and I always will. No matter what.”

Azul clings to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder as his breath hitches. The tears come slowly, quietly, and you feel them soak into your shirt as he holds you like you’re his lifeline.

You kiss the top of his head, brushing your lips against his hair, then down to his tear-streaked cheeks. “I’m here,” you whisper between each kiss, your voice soft and soothing. “I’m right here. You’re not alone, Azul. You never were.”

He squeezes you tighter, as if afraid to let go, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving his body. You keep kissing away his tears, gentle and patient, letting him take all the time he needs. Eventually, his breathing steadies, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed but filled with so much affection it makes your heart swell.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs again, though there’s no bite to his words. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, his lips brushing yours in the lightest of touches.

“Ridiculous, but yours” you reply, grinning, and he huffs a quiet laugh.

“Yes… you are,” he whispers, and this time, when he kisses you, it’s slow and tender, his lips soft but firm against yours, filled with all the love and relief he’s been holding back. You kiss him back with just as much affection, your arms wrapping around him as you both lose yourselves in the moment.

When he finally pulls away, you rest your forehead against his once more, both of you breathing a little heavier but feeling lighter than you have in days.

“No more arguments, okay?” you murmur, smiling softly.

“No promises,” he teases, but there’s a warmth in his voice now, a comfort that reassures you everything will be just fine.

And as you hold him close, with his head resting against your shoulder, you know it too. Everything will be just fine.

Jamil Viper

After two long days of silence, the weight of the unresolved argument with Jamil has become unbearable. You’re done waiting for him to make the first move, especially knowing how he can be—cautious, calculating, always one step ahead but never one to make the first emotional leap. You miss him, and more importantly, you want to make things right, even if it means doing something absolutely ridiculous.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside his dorm, holding a tray of… pancakes. Not just any pancakes, though. These are heart shaped, perfectly arranged to spell out “I’M SORRY” in big, syrup-drenched letters. You’re not sure what possessed you to make pancakes an apology tool, but hey, everyone loves pancakes, right?

With a deep breath, you knock on his door. After a moment, Jamil opens it, his expression neutral, but the second he spots the tray, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What... is this?”

You grin sheepishly, lifting the tray up like a peace offering. “An apology. In pancake form.”

Jamil blinks at the sight, clearly trying to process this ridiculous gesture. “You… made pancakes to say sorry?”

“Yes. And they’re shaped like hearts. See? I even used syrup to write it out so there’s no confusion.” You point to the pancakes proudly. “You can’t stay mad at me after this, right?”

For a moment, Jamil just stares at the tray, his expression unreadable, before a slow, reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He lets out a quiet huff of laughter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe, but I’m yours.”

He shakes his head, but there’s no denying the amusement in his eyes. “You could have just apologized with words, you know.”

“I could have,” you agree, “but where’s the fun in that?” You give him your best hopeful grin, offering him a plate. “Come on, at least eat one. They’re good! I even made them heart-shaped.”

Jamil sighs, taking the plate from you with a resigned smile. He grabs one of the heart-shaped pancakes and bites into it, giving you a side glance. “I suppose I can’t stay mad after this.”

You watch him closely, noticing the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. You know him well enough to see through his calm facade. Beneath it all, he’s still embarrassed—mostly about the argument, but also because he let his temper get the best of him. You can tell that’s what’s really bothering him, even now.

“You know,” you say softly, stepping closer, “it’s okay that we argued.”

Jamil looks at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t have to feel bad for losing your temper. You don’t always have to hold everything in around me. It’s okay to let it out, to be angry, to argue. We’re not always going to agree, and that’s fine.” You place your hand gently on his arm. “I’ll always come back and fix things, even if you feel like you can’t. That’s what we do, right?”

Jamil stares at you for a moment, his expression softening as your words sink in. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one that he rarely shows, and it breaks your heart just a little. Slowly, he sets the plate down and reaches for you, pulling you into his arms.

“You’re too forgiving,” he murmurs, resting his chin on top of your head.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I meant it. You don’t have to be perfect with me, Jamil. You can be yourself, temper and all.”

He lets out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening slightly around you. “You’ll regret saying that one day.”

“I doubt it,” you tease, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “But if I do, I’ll make more food.”

That earns you a small, genuine laugh, and before you can say anything else, Jamil leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment, and when he pulls back, his expression is softer than you’ve seen in days.

“You’re serious about that promise?” he asks quietly, his hand cupping your cheek. “That no matter what, you’ll always come back?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “Always. Even if we argue, even if things get tough, I’ll be right here. I’ll come back and fix it, even if you can’t.”

Jamil’s eyes flicker with emotion, and before you know it, he’s kissing you—soft and slow at first, but there’s a desperation behind it, a need for reassurance. You kiss him back with the same intensity, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer, trying to pour every bit of love and understanding into the kiss.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, but the tension that had been there for the past two days is gone. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he exhales slowly.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” he whispers, and you can hear the relief in his voice. “Just don’t make me wait this long next time.”

You smile, reaching up to brush your lips against his again. “Deal. But only if you agree to eat more pancakes.”

He chuckles, pulling you back into his arms. “Fine. But only because they’re heart-shaped.”

And just like that, everything feels right again.

Vil Schoenheit

After two days of tense silence between you and Vil, you know you need to go all out if you’re going to get him to forgive you. Apologies are one thing, but Vil is someone who values effort, refinement, and, of course, aesthetic appeal. You can’t just go in with flowers—no, you need to apologize in a way that matches his standards.

So naturally, you end up outside his dorm with a full-on spa set-up. A luxury at-home facial kit, to be precise, complete with rare, imported skincare masks and the finest essential oils. You may or may not have spent more on this than you’ve ever spent on yourself before, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

When Vil opens the door, his eyes immediately narrow at the sight of you holding a basket filled with beautifully arranged skincare products. “What… is this?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You smile, trying to play it cool. “An apology. In skincare form.” You thrust the basket toward him. “I thought maybe you’d like to, uh, pamper yourself and—look! I even got the organic lavender serum you were talking about last month!”

Vil stares at the basket, then at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re bribing me with skincare?”

“Technically, I’m apologizing with skincare,” you correct, flashing a sheepish grin. “I know I messed up, and I know you like to unwind with your beauty routine, so I thought this might help smooth things over. Literally and figuratively.”

For a long moment, he just stands there, gazing at you with an unreadable expression. You’re starting to think you might’ve miscalculated when, suddenly, a soft chuckle escapes him. “You are… absolutely ridiculous.”

You blink. “So… that’s a yes on the skincare?”

Vil shakes his head, but the faintest smile is playing on his lips. “You’re lucky you’re my sweet potato.”

Relief floods through you at his words. “I’ll take that as forgiveness, then.”

He sighs, taking the basket from you and setting it on the table. “Yes, I forgive you.” But even as he says it, there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of something deeper that makes you pause.

You step closer, gently reaching for his hand. “Are you still mad?”

Vil glances away for a moment, and you can see the tension in his posture. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more vulnerable than usual. “No, I’m not mad. But… I was afraid. So, so afraid that I’d pushed you away too. That I’d lost the one person who could tolerate me.”

Your heart clenches at his words. You can feel the weight of all the pressure he’s put on himself, the fear of losing someone important. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight embrace, wrapping your arms around him as if you could shield him from that fear. “Vil, listen to me. I’m not here because I tolerate you. I’m here because I love you.”

He stiffens in your arms for a moment, but slowly, he relaxes, his hands coming to rest on your back. “You say that now, but—”

You cut him off, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, I mean it. Loving someone isn’t about tolerating them. It’s about being with them because you can’t imagine being anywhere else.” You brush a strand of hair from his face, your thumb gently tracing his cheek. “I’m here because you’re everything to me, Vil. Even if you’re mean sometimes. Even if we argue. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes soften at your words, and for a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your face. Then, without a word, he leans in and presses a soft, tender kiss to your lips, his hands gently cradling your face. The kiss is slow, almost tentative, as if he’s still afraid you’ll disappear.

When he finally pulls away, you can see the unshed tears in his eyes, though he quickly blinks them away. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You do,” you whisper back, kissing him again, softer this time, lingering against his lips. “And I’m staying. Forever, even if you’re a diva sometimes.”

Vil lets out a soft, breathy laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Forever?” he repeats, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Forever,” you promise, pulling him closer until his arms wrap around you fully. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight, and for the first time in two days, everything feels right again.

And as he hugs you back, his grip a little tighter than before, you know he believes you.

Idia Shroud

You stand outside of Idia’s room, holding a stack of video game cases in one hand and a ridiculously oversized plush of his favorite game character in the other. This might be the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, but it’s not like you could just waltz in and hand him a flower. Idia isn’t exactly the flowers-and-chocolates type. No, he needs something bigger. Geekier. Something so outrageous that it’ll leave him flustered beyond belief—something that only you would dare to pull off.

So here you are, wearing a custom-made cosplay of the main character from his favorite RPG. And if this doesn’t get him to forgive you, you don’t know what will.

You knock on his door, bracing yourself for what’s about to come next. At first, there’s no response, so you knock again, louder this time. After a few seconds, you hear shuffling inside and the telltale sound of something crashing to the floor—classic Idia. Finally, the door creaks open just enough for you to see a pair of glowing eyes peeking through the gap.

“What… are you wearing?” His voice is barely audible, and you can already tell he’s regretting opening the door.

With a dramatic flourish, you throw your arms wide and hold out the plush. “Oh, mighty Idia, Lord of the Underworld and Master of All Games, I come bearing offerings to beg for your forgiveness!” You strike a pose, holding the plush in front of you like it’s some kind of magical artifact.

Idia’s eyes go wide, and you swear his hair flares up a notch, turning into a bright pink. He blinks, clearly stunned, before his hand shoots out to yank you inside his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

“W-What are you doing?!” His voice cracks as he looks at you, then the plush, then the video games. His hair is now a brilliant shade of neon pink, a sign that he’s absolutely mortified. “Are you trying to kill me from embarrassment?!”

You can’t help but grin at how flustered he is. “Hey, I had to go big! You were ignoring me for two whole days!”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!” He fidgets, avoiding eye contact as his hair flickers pink. “I just… thought maybe you were tired of me or something…”

Your grin fades, replaced with surprise. “Tired of you? What are you talking about?”

Idia sinks into his gaming chair, nervously picking at the hem of his hoodie. “I just figured… you know, you’d realize you could do better. I mean, c’mon, I’m not exactly ‘catch of the year’ material. You’re always out there, living in the real world, and I’m… well, here. Playing games and… avoiding people.”

You take a deep breath, moving closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “Idia,” you say firmly, “if you seriously think I’d ever get tired of you, you’re out of your mind.”

He glances up at you, clearly unconvinced, so you kneel down, placing the plush in his lap before grabbing his hands. “You mean the world to me. I’d literally fight God in a 1v1 death match if it meant keeping you.”

His eyes go wide again, his hair flaring even brighter. “Y-You’d what?”

“I mean it,” you continue, squeezing his hands. “I love you, okay? Whether we’re sitting in here gaming or you’re talking to me about your latest game binge, or even when you’re convinced that you’re somehow not enough. You are enough, Idia. You’re more than enough.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you in the most awkward, yet endearing hug imaginable. His face is buried in your shoulder, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hair as it flares even pinker. “You’re… too good for me,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his voice small.

You chuckle softly, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability in them. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek, watching as his hair flickers with warmth. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Idia blinks a few times before he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you closer this time. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “But I guess… I forgive you. Not that I was really mad in the first place.”

You laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “Good. ‘Cause I missed you.”

His grip tightens around you, and for a moment, you both stay like that—wrapped up in each other, the tension of the past few days melting away. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes flicking toward his gaming setup. “So, uh… you wanna play something?”

You grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two of you settle onto the floor, your back leaning against his chest as he hands you a controller. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hair still glowing a soft pink at the ends as the game starts up.

As you start playing, he presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Thanks. For, y’know… everything.”

You smile, leaning back into his warmth. “Anytime, Idia. Anytime.”

Malleus Draconia

The wind howls as you trudge across the campus, dragging a massive stone gargoyle behind you. It weighs approximately as much as a baby elephant, and if anyone else saw you right now, they’d think you’d completely lost it. But you know exactly what you’re doing. You know the storm swirling above Night Raven College is because of him, and if there’s one thing Malleus Draconia loves more than you (or so you like to tease), it’s a well-crafted gargoyle.

So here you are, yanking the poor stone creature across the wet grass like you’re on some kind of mission. Your arms ache, your back is screaming, and you’re about to regret this grand gesture entirely—until you finally see the towering spires of Diasomnia in the distance. Almost there.

You pause for a second to catch your breath, leaning on the gargoyle like it’s an old friend. “You’d better work,” you mutter to it, “because if I have to drag you all the way back, I swear—”

A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, reminding you why you’re out here in the first place. You shake off the rain, grit your teeth, and resume your march toward Diasomnia’s courtyard.

Once you arrive, you park the gargoyle right underneath Malleus’s window. Perfect placement. You could be a medieval decorator at this point.

You pick up a few rocks from the ground, size them up in your hand, and start tossing them at his window, each one making a soft thunk against the glass. After the third throw, the window creaks open, and Malleus leans out, looking down with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. His eyes land on the gargoyle first, then on you, soaked to the bone and holding a rock like you’re about to reenact some ancient ritual.

“Huh?” is all he says, blinking at the sight before him.

“Malleus!” you shout dramatically, “Come down! I brought you a peace offering!”

He stares at the gargoyle, then at you, before disappearing from the window in a blur. Within seconds, he’s outside, standing in front of you, his expression unreadable but his eyes glowing faintly with that magical storm swirling around them. The weather above you rumbles ominously, thunder echoing across the sky.

“Malleus, I—”

Before you can even finish, he pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You freeze for a second, surprised, then feel his body trembling slightly against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and filled with regret. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. The storm… I didn’t know it would affect you too.”

You realize then that his hands are shaking, gripping onto you like you’re his lifeline. Your heart softens, and you return the hug, pressing your face into his neck. “No, I’m sorry,” you mumble into his skin. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should’ve come sooner… with or without the gargoyle.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel the tension begin to fade from his body. Slowly, the storm above you starts to calm—the wind softens, the rain turns into a light drizzle, and the ominous clouds roll back as if they were never there to begin with.

You pull back just enough to look at him, his glowing eyes now gentle as they meet yours. “So, uh… do you like the gargoyle?” you ask, grinning a little.

Malleus chuckles softly, his eyes flicking to the stone statue behind you. “It’s… impressive. Though you didn’t have to go through such lengths.”

You shrug. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

He smiles, a genuine, relieved smile, and before you can say anything else, he tugs you back toward the castle. “Come inside,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “You’re soaked, and you brought a guest. We should both dry off.”

The two of you (and your new gargoyle friend) make your way to his room, and as soon as the door closes behind you, Malleus pulls you onto his bed, wrapping himself around you like a possessive dragon hoarding his most precious treasure. His arms curl around your waist, and his body presses snugly against yours as he buries his face in your neck.

You stroke his hair gently, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last bit of chill from the storm. “You know I love you, right?” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“I know,” he replies quietly, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I just… sometimes, I worry.”

You pull back enough to kiss him properly, your lips brushing against his softly, reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry,” you murmur between kisses. “You mean everything to me. And if I have to drag a hundred gargoyles across campus to prove it, I will.”

Malleus chuckles against your lips, a low, warm sound that rumbles through his chest. “Please don’t. One is more than enough.”

You laugh softly, nuzzling into his neck as you both settle into a comfortable silence, the storm outside completely gone now, leaving only peace and quiet—and a very satisfied, if slightly confused, gargoyle standing guard outside.

Rollo Flamme

The argument with Rollo had left a strange tension in the air, but knowing him, it was probably accompanied by a quiet storm of overthinking and guilt on his end. Rollo Flamme wasn’t one to voice his frustrations loudly, but his brooding could be as heavy as the weight of the world.

You figure it’s time to fix this, and, because you can’t just do anything the normal way, you decide on something special—something that’d be just the right mix of thoughtful and ridiculous to get his attention.

That’s why you find yourself in the Bell Tower, with a bundle of parchment paper in your arms. Not just any parchment, though—carefully selected handwritten notes of every philosophical thought, poetry piece, and historical fact you know Rollo’s obsessed with. You’ve even bound it like a book, with a dramatic title on the front: “An Ode to Perfection: Why Rollo is Always Right (Sometimes)”. It’s sarcastic enough to make him smile, but sincere enough to show you care.

Climbing the stairs of the bell tower is no small feat, but you’re determined. Once at the top, you glance out at the courtyard, where you know he’ll be, and with a deep breath, you shout, “ROLLO FLAMME, I HAVE CLIMBED THE HEIGHTS TO OFFER YOU THIS SYMBOL OF MY UNDYING RESPECT AND HUMILITY!”

Your voice echoes dramatically through the courtyard, and sure enough, you see Rollo down below, startled out of his brooding. He looks up, eyes widening at the sight of you, but it’s hard to tell if he’s more confused or horrified by the spectacle.

“I OFFER THIS—” you hold the makeshift book high, “—AS A PEACE TREATY BETWEEN US, THAT WE MAY NEVER AGAIN BE SEPARATED BY MERE MORTAL PETTINESS!”

Rollo stares for a long moment, before he suddenly breaks into a full-on sprint toward the tower. He’s halfway up the stairs before you know it, and when he reaches the top, his face is a mix of red embarrassment and panic.

“What are you doing?” he half-hisses, half-pleads, his cheeks flushed from both the running and the mortification of what you’ve just done in full view of the school. His voice lowers as he grabs your arm and tries to pull you away from the edge. “Are you insane? You could’ve fallen, and—”

“I wasn’t going to fall!” you grin, holding out the “book” triumphantly. “I came to apologize.”

He stares at the bundle of papers in your hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What… is this?”

“An apology. Written in beautiful calligraphy and filled with all the reasons why you’re wonderful, overthinking, but still somehow right most of the time.” You wiggle the book in front of his face. “It’s all for you.”

Rollo’s face, already red from exertion, turns an even deeper shade of crimson. His lips part, but no words come out for a second as he glares at the book, then at you. “You… climbed the bell tower. Yelled in front of everyone. And wrote a whole book to—”

“Get you to forgive me, yeah,” you finish for him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I figured you’d appreciate the effort, Mr. Perfectionist.”

He looks at the book again, his hands shaky as he takes it from you, carefully cradling it as if it’s some kind of sacred artifact. His voice drops to a whisper. “You… didn’t have to go this far. I was never angry at you.”

You blink, surprised by his words. “What do you mean?”

Rollo glances down, his fingers curling tighter around the book. “I thought… maybe you’d realize you didn’t need someone like me. That you’d see how much of a burden I am.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Without hesitation, you step closer, reaching out to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Rollo Flamme, if you think for a second that I’d leave you, you’re wrong. I’d get into a fistfight with God for you, and win.”

His eyes widen, and a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. “That’s… quite dramatic.”

“You inspire drama,” you reply with a grin, but then your tone softens, and you pull him into a tight hug. “You mean the world to me, Rollo. I don’t care about your overthinking, your brooding, or your perfectionism. I care about you.”

He tenses for a moment in your embrace, but then slowly, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around you in return. His hands still tremble slightly, but he buries his face in your shoulder, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his temple. “You deserve all of it. And more.”

For a moment, he just holds onto you, breathing deeply as if trying to calm his racing thoughts. Then, after a long silence, he pulls back slightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looks at you. “I… apologize as well. For doubting… for everything.”

You smile, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face. “We’re both forgiven then.”

He nods, his face still flushed with embarrassment but now softened with relief. Without another word, he pulls you back into his room, where you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up together—Rollo resting his head against your shoulder, still clutching the book you made him, while you hold him close, reassuring him with soft kisses and whispered words of love.

The tower bells toll softly in the background, but for the two of you, there’s nothing but the warmth of each other’s presence.

Masterlist