#(like I would love to read that too but she’s not going to write it I’m sorry)

[strwberri-milk]

H! If you’re still taking requests, I was wondering if you could write about how the lads boys would react if the MC they were with wanted to initiate intimacy with them but was too shy/hesitant to do so since she has no relationship experience, making her new to physical contact? 

hihi!!! this request here is also similar if you wanna read that too!!

He wants to be with you in every way possible. Of course he does. He loves holding you and kissing you and doesn't mind initiating those things for you after you've expressed that's something you want him to do. He's also incredibly receptive to taking charge, so it's not like it's something that bothers him.

If you're too hesitant he won't make any moves. He's worried that he'd push you too far and make you uncomfortable. He'll keep things the way they are - touching you sweetly and pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips. He'd wait until the world ended if he had to to have you. He really doesn't mind as long as he can see a smile on your face.

You'd have to tell him that you want to move to the next step, his heart beating erratically in his chest as you start to stutter in an attempt to voice your desire. He holds you tenderly, letting you take your time. As you speak he does butter you up by kissing you all over, holding your hands as you feel your mind melt with his tender affections.

He's going to take very good care of you the entire time. He's slow and gentle, laying you down and constantly doing consent checks to make sure you're still enjoying everything he's doing to you. He loves the look on your face and the soft noises of pleasure you're giving him and he's going to do everything he can to draw that out of you.

[star-forg]

Art piece for a human au I have in my brain. Perks of being an artist include doing your own art for a fic that you wrote for you. The self indulgence is crazyyyy

Insane ramblings and such under the cut

Made a small (and rushed, and overall low quality) Azura doodle for the project too.

In my head this is a very similar story to "Eliza and Her Monsters" if you know it. Except I haven't read that book in years and I can't tell what ideas are mine versus the book but I don't want to go back and read it all lmao

Anyways, the premise of this would be Luz is a recent high-school graduate and she is in her last summer before college. She's known online as TheGoodWitch, the creator of the hit series The Legend of Azura (it's not as overly flowery in this au, more like Boiling Isles weirdness, as is custom from our Luz). Seemingly overnight the fan base of this series went from big to wayyy too many people and Luz has never felt more seen but also like there is so much pressure on her.

She had always promised herself she would finish the comic before college, so she has a goal that she'll finish it by the end of the summer. But than an Incident happens (undecided what) and Luz goes to spend the summer with Eda, a close family friend and job giver outer.

So she's working in this small town of Gravesfield, and meets all these interesting characters around town and a particularly pretty Amity Blight. A rich girl with a summer home right down the road. And wow! Amity turns out to be the biggest fan ever of The Legend of Azura!

It would be a shortish fic and mostly lighthearted because I think silly goofy vibes would fit this story best. But yeah. I think I'll write it to get it out of my system. And I also want to play around with maybe it being a part of a series because I love huntlow too and want to write about them... I'll find a way mwhahaha~

Anyways. That's my (very brief explanation of my) story idea. It's rough but I'm having a lot of fun coming up with diffrent interactions, and where diffrent characters have settled jn this human realm. Very fun. Would recommend.

[lunamond]

I know this is by no means a new take (especially here on tumblr) but I'm of the very strong opinion that as written, the Acotar series actually provides a lot of evidence that most (if not all) of Rhysand's actions are in some shape or form always about Tamlin. Even his relationship with Feyre is about Tamlin.

A lot of people hold up Acomaf ch54 as this super romantic turning point for Rhys' character, which is incredibly funny to me because to me it only ever cemented the unfathomable levels of homoerotic obsession Rhysand has for Tamlin.

He admits that during Acotar he convinced Amarantha to let him go out of Utm to check on Tamlin and the Spring court, where he then left a decapitated head branded with the Night court symbol, like some weird bat shaped cat.

He also visits for Calamnai. (What are you doing here on the spring sex festival night, Rhysss?!? He isn't going to pick you!)

Obviously his meeting with Tamlin in Acotar is a classic for any Tamsand fan, his voice is a "lover's caress," he demands Tamlin call him Rhys instead of Rhysand for old times' sake (???!!), he threatenes Feyre‘s life to make Tamlin get on his knees and specifically fixates on her sexual thoughts about Tamlin.

When he kisses her utm to cover up Tamlin‘s scent, she also weirdly remarks on the fact that Rhysand can still taste Tamlin, which... is quite the odd thing to point out, if I'm meant to believe he is only interested in Feyre.

He also has literally admitted, to Feyre herself no less, that his weird roofy lapdance humiliation of her utm was specifically to upset Tamlin.

It just screams of "if I can't have you than I'm going to make your life miserable and steal your girl" behavior.

All his posturing in front of Feyre, presenting himself as the most powerful HL, the prettiest, the best and most just ruler, etc just comes across as him desperately trying to prove how much better he is than Tamlin, which obvs was intended to make him appear more attractive as the new love interest, but quite frankly it just seems kinda pathetic (I mean this affectionately, especially in the context of Tamsand. But eve beyond the ship, I just really adore pathetic fictional men).

Even in Acofas, he cannot stay away from the Spring court, he claims he needs to go there for diplomatic reasons, but he literally has courtiers? He has send both Cassian and Lucien on diplomatic missions before? Why would he personally need to go?

But, when he meets with Tamlin, he tells him that being with Feyre (his mate and supposedly love of his life?!) isn't enough, and he tries to goad Tamlin into a fight. (He wants to wrestle him so bad it makes him look stupid fr). When Tamlin doesn‘t respond like Rhysand hopes, he gets disappointed and dejected. Later, he returns and cooks Tamlin food, an action that has been explicitly romantically coded in this series...

Also, as a side note throughout that entire interaction, Rhys' internal monologue can't shut up about how green Tamlin‘s eyes are.

I'm hyper critical of the Acotar series and Sjm on the best of days, I don't like how Rhysand's character is written at all. But reading him as the most egregious case of a closeted gay guy channelling all his surpressed feelings into being the most toxic ex might be the only way his character writing can be redeemed for me personally (unfortunately Sjm is too much of a coward to ever purposefully write this).

I know its never gonna happen in canon, but to me the perfect resolution to the series would be Rhysand and Tamlin resolving their gay rivalry and finally getting together to live out their thruth as the disaster couple they were clearly meant to be. While Feyre and her sisters get to go off and be free from the clutches of all these toxic men.

[andy-15-07]

Could you please write a pedro pascal x reader, where the reader has the flu/fever and she's acting like she's fine and Pedro takes care of her even if he's a terrible cook? 🥺

Flu Season with Pedro

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 654| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Pedro had been watching you like a hawk all day.

It started when you woke up with a slight sniffle, your forehead warm to the touch, but you brushed it off, claiming it was nothing. He wasn’t buying it.

“You’re sick,” Pedro stated firmly, arms crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I’m fine,” you replied, waving a dismissive hand as you sipped on some lukewarm tea.

Pedro narrowed his eyes. “You’re literally sweating and shivering at the same time. That’s not fine, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to stand up and make your way to the couch, but the moment you did, your vision blurred, and you wobbled slightly. Pedro was by your side in an instant, steady hands on your waist.

“See? Not fine,” he murmured, his brows knitting together in concern.

You sighed, leaning into him just a little, your body betraying you. “Okay… maybe a tiny bit not fine.”

Pedro let out a soft chuckle and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”

You groaned. “Nooo, I wanna be on the couch. I’ll be bored in bed.”

“You’ll be bored wherever you are because you feel like shit,” he pointed out. “At least let me make you something to eat.”

That made you perk up, but not for the reason he’d hoped. “Oh no,” you said, deadpan. “Pedro, last time you ��cooked,’ you almost set the kitchen on fire.”

Pedro scoffed, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense. “That was one time.”

“It was last week.”

“Details,” he muttered, guiding you toward the couch anyway. “Now, sit. I’m making you soup.”

You opened your mouth to protest but gave up. Your body was too exhausted to argue, and honestly, the thought of him fussing over you was kind of sweet.

From your spot on the couch, you watched as Pedro banged around in the kitchen, muttering to himself. He read the back of the soup can like it held ancient secrets, turned the stove on with the careful precision of a bomb expert, and nearly dropped the pot twice. You couldn’t help but laugh, weak as it was.

“This is very stressful,” he called out. “How do people just… cook?”

“Some would argue that soup from a can isn’t really cooking.”

Pedro shot you a playful glare before dramatically stirring the contents of the pot. “You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled.

You smiled, watching him struggle but knowing his heart was in the right place. “I know.”

Eventually, after a few more mishaps (including but not limited to nearly adding sugar instead of salt), Pedro approached you with a steaming bowl of soup. He sat beside you, carefully blowing on a spoonful before holding it up to your lips.

“Alright, open up,” he instructed.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Pedro, I can feed myself.”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m already in caretaker mode. Let me have this.”

You sighed dramatically before obliging, letting him feed you. The soup was… well, edible. Barely. But the way he was looking at you, all warm brown eyes and soft smiles, made it taste a little better.

After a few spoonfuls, you leaned back against him, exhaustion creeping in. Pedro immediately wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know,” he murmured against your hair, “I hate seeing you sick.”

You nestled closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “I know. But you taking care of me almost makes it worth it.”

Pedro chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. “Almost?”

You hummed sleepily. “If the soup was better, maybe.”

“Rude,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “Go to sleep, troublemaker.”

You closed your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. With Pedro holding you, whispering soft reassurances, you let yourself drift off, knowing you were in the best hands.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg, hey friend! I'm so excited to see what you thought of all the angsty dancing!! loll 😜

First I want to say that I am here for the reader rifling through Michael's drawers, YES girl, channel Daphne for Dean!! But I really love this little bit here because of the way you described Michael's gaze on her. Yes, we hate Michael... but goodness it was such a wonderful poetic line and all I want is that 😭

Hahaaa I love that comparison! And yeah, believe it or not but there was a time when Michael wasn't a total dick. (And even now, he thinks he loves his wife.) How he looks at her is how I wish my future husband would look at me. *dreamy sigh*

It's so good because my mind immediately shot to the idea that Dean is already subconsciously comparing the women/girls he's going out with to the reader. And on the inside I was doing this:

lol YES, thank you for catching that! Dean's having his fun, but subconsciously he knows there's something missing there -- that intellectual connection between equals, or at least someone who can hold a real conversation with you.

The boys running into the reader at the club was so wonderful, and there's really something beautiful about the way you build the scene with the dancing, the drinking, the people playing cards, and the description of the outfit the reader wore is stunning! I love the dark lipstick, dress, hat combo that shields her face is just everything I want- but above all, I really loved the banter you had between the reader and Dean. The give and take with the dialogue is beautiful. This piece especially, because I literally needed to take a moment after reading it and the way Dean looked at the reader. 👀

Oh my goodness thank you! I really concentrated on creating that ambiance inside the club, trying to make it feel visceral and true to the era. 💖 And you know I love me some witty banter/sexual tension loll. 😏 That moment in particular was fun, because Dean doesn't know that she knows he's been running around all over town with all these women, but she's attracted to him anyway, just like he's attracted to her. ❤️‍🔥

Oh my word IT'S HAPPENING!!! The tension! 😱 Also, I'm a complete sucker for a dance scene. I've written them a few times, and there's something so magical and intimate about them. You wrote this one between Dean and the reader so beautifully, because you made it filled with attraction, but you also made it a little melancholy when the reader is remembering a part of her life when she was happy in her marriage. The almost kiss is KILLING me lol

Girl me TOO. You're so right -- there's something "magical and intimate" about a dancing scene, especially in the '40s. Everything just feels so romantic in this era, in both senses of the word. There's a couple different layers of subtext going on here, but honestly the almost kiss was hard to keep "almost." 😂😂

Alright, it's official Alex my soul has left my body. It's been nice knowing you 🤣 I knew this would happen someday when I read one of your fics lol

LOLL I take that as a giant compliment, my friend!! 🤭 Though I apologize for the vacancy of your soul. 🩵

Ohhh my word this chapter was so good! The historical fiction vibes are just so impeccable, and the entire scene with the reader and Dean in the club is going to live rent free in my head the rest of the year! Cannot wait to revive and read the next chapter lol!! 💗

Honestly I so appreciate you for saying that because it's my first time writing a '40s AU, as you know, and I've tried my best to make it feel like the setting. The club scene's probably been one of my favorites to write for this little series! I so hope you enjoy the next chapter!! 💖💗💖

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Devil May Care

After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.

Predictable. Michael was still out.

This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.

You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy. 

That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.

You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.

You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.

You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.

The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.

In one of the pockets, you found a receipt. 

You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.

“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well. 

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.

“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.

“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”

“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.

“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?” 

Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”

“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.

Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.

He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.

“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.

“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”

Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.

“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.

Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”

Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”

“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”

“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself. 

Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.

“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.” 

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.

It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.

Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife. 

The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.

Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.

You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.   

You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.

“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.

Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards. 

Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you. 

Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise. 

“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.

“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”

You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”

“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.

Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.

You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.

Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”

“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.

Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.

“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”

You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled. 

“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”

I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.

His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face. 

“Want me to do better?” he teased. 

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.

It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.

Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.

You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.

The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.

“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.

“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.

“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.

“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.

You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.

“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.

Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine.

“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.

His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…

“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.

You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.

Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.

It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.

Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.  

Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.

The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.

“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”

Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.

You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.

“No, thank you,” you said thickly.

After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.

You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.

Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.

“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked. 

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” 

You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.  

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.

Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs. 

His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.

Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened. 

Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps. 

Ladies first.

With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.

AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...

Next Time:

You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.

“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”

Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”

You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.

Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”

“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”

Dean laughed freely at that.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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WHEN THE WORLD GOES QUIET PT.2 | LN4

an: i'm seeing a lot of love for this and i'm glad! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this - i'm now omw to the library to write some more stories for you guys hehe

wc: 6.1k

part one

FOR DAYS, SHE MOURNED.

She barely left her bed, drifting between fitful sleep and hollow wakefulness, the hours melting into each other like wax from a candle burned too long. The world outside continued - newspapers shouted about the war, footsteps echoed in the stairwell, rain pattered softly against the windowpane - but none of it touched her. It all felt so distant, like she was floating just outside of reality, unable to reach it, unwilling to try.

The soldiers had come back two days later after the first visit. They handed her a small box - Lando’s belongings. He didn’t have much. A pocket watch, the glass cracked but the hands still ticking. A battered deck of playing cards, edges worn soft from use. A few letters he never sent to her, some half-written, some only a few lines long. A book of poetry she gave him with his name scrawled inside the cover, the pages dog-eared and stained with ink. He lied to her, he said he’d never read it. A cigarette case, dented, still holding one last cigarette as though he was going to come back and smoke it with her in the rain while she sang.

She ran her fingers over each item carefully, as if memorising the feel of them, as if holding these things would somehow bring him back. She placed the box on the small table by her bed and left it there, untouched after that, unable to look at it for too long.

A week passed. The grief didn’t lessen, but it settled into something quieter, heavier, pressing down on her ribs with every breath.

And then, on the seventh day, there was a knock at the door.

It was weak. Barely there. Just a soft, uncertain tap tap tap, as if the person on the other side wasn’t sure they had the strength to knock at all.

She ignored it at first - probably some children selling biscuits. She barely had the energy to move, let alone answer the door. But then it came again, a little stronger this time, though still unsteady.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, wrapping her dressing gown around herself as she crossed the small, dimly lit room. Her body felt leaden, her mind sluggish, and for a moment, she thought it must be one of her neighbours - maybe Mrs. Holloway from downstairs, coming to check if she was still breathing.

She unlocked the door with tired fingers and pulled it open-

And nearly collapsed where she stood.

Lando.

He was standing in front of her, barely upright, swaying slightly on his feet like a man who’d been fighting gravity for too long. His face was bruised and still slightly bloodied, one eye swollen, a cut running along his temple. His uniform was tattered, stained with dirt and dried blood, his left arm cradled against his side as if even the weight of it was too much to bear. He looked ruined. Wrecked by something that should have killed him.

But he was here. 

Alive. 

A slow lopsided grin pulled at his split lip, his voice rough and hoarse as he rasped-

“Missed me, sweetheart?”

Her breath hitched, her vision blurred. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare, her hands gripping the doorframe to keep herself upright.

Then, before she could think, before she could stop herself.

She threw herself at him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her body colliding with his so suddenly that he let out a low groan of pain, but she didn’t care for a brief minute. He was solid. Real. Her fingers curled into his torn uniform, her face buried in his shoulder, and the sob that has been trapped in her chest for weeks finally broke free.

He let out a shaky breath, his good arm tightening around her waist as he whispered, “Took a long bloody way home, but I got here, didn’t I?”

Home.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands cradling his face, her thumbs brushing over the bruises there. He winced slightly but didn’t pull away.

“You-” Her voice cracked, raw from days of silence. “You died.”

He gave her a faint, crooked smirk. “Nearly died. Big difference, sweetheart.” His voice softened. “They shot us down over France. I-” He swallowed, something dark flickering through his bruised gaze. “I shouldn’t have made it.”

Her fingers trembled against his jaw, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs “But you did.”

“Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Yeah, I did.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her breath uneven, her thoughts a tangled mess of grief and disbelief and absolute, crushing relief.

Then she grabbed his collar, yanked him forward and kissed him.

He made a low sound in his throat, startled, but he melted into her, his lips warm despite the cold that clung to his skin. It was desperate, messy, edged with too much pain and too many unsaid words, but neither of them cared. 

When they finally pulled apart, he let out a breathless chuckle, his forehead resting against hers. “Blimey. If I’d known I’d get a welcome like that, I’d have come back sooner.”

She huffed out a tearful laugh, skating her head as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well,” he murmured, his fingers brushing weakly over her wrist. “You love me anyway, don’t you?”

She didn’t really know what love was growing up, she was raised knowing that she could only love God and the Church. But here, staring at this messy boy with his messy curls and lopsided grin, she thought of how much she mourned him, the lie she voiced for him and realised that yes, she did love him.

She exhaled, her fingers still cupping his face, and nodded.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, like he was letting it sink in, letting it steady him. Then, with a small, pained sigh, he leaned into her touch and muttered-

“Reckon I might need a lie-down, sweetheart. Nearly dying’s exhausting work.”

She let out a watery laugh, shaking her head as she finally pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

She still didn’t know how this was possible, how he was here, when she had already mourned him. She didn’t know if she would ever stop waking up in cold sweats, thinking it had all been a dream.

But for now, he was here and that was enough for her.

Once inside, she took care of him. Took care of him in the only way she knew how, with love.

The small flat wasn’t much, but it was warm, and it was safe, and for now, that was enough. She helped him out of his tattered uniform with careful hands, breath momentarily taken away as she took in his build. Her fingers ghosted over the bruised ribs, torn skin, the places where war had left its mark on him. He hissed when she pressed a damp cloth to the cut on his temple, but he didn’t complain, only watching her with a look that made her chest tighten.

She tried not to meet his gaze, tried to focus on the task at hand. But then-

“So,” he drawled, his voice still rough, still weak, but carrying the familiar edge of teasing. “Heard you called yourself my fiancée.”

Her hands froze.

Her stomach plummeted.

Her eyes snapped up to his, wide with horror. He looked far too smug for someone who had nearly died, his bruised lips curling into something that might have been a smirk if he wasn’t so exhausted.

She stammered, struggling for words, but before she could say anything, she glanced down at her hand.

And her heart stopped.

The ring.

It was still on her left hand. She had never switched it back.

Heat flooded her face so quickly she thought she might faint. She dropped the cloth to his lap and yanked the ring off, shoving it back onto her right hand, fingers trembling, her whole body ablaze with mortification.

“That was- I had to,” she spluttered. “They wouldn’t have told me anything otherwise, and I needed to know.”

Lando let out a low chuckle, wincing at the movement. “I dunno, sweetheart. Sounds an awful lot like a proposal to me.”

She picked up the cloth and threw it at his chest.

He let out a breathless laugh, catching it before it fell to the floor, but the sound faded quickly, something heavier settling between them. She swallowed, focusing on cleaning his wounds, pretending she wasn’t still burning from the embarrassment.

“You really did that?” he asked for a moment, his voice quieter now, “You went all the way out to Bovingdon?”

She nodded, dabbing gently at his brow. “Didn’t have a choice, did I?”

Something flickered in his gaze- something unreadable, something deep. “That was dangerous darling, what if something happened to your train?”

“I needed to know, Lan.”

He went quiet after that and she continued to work, washing away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of everything he had endured. The worst of it was his ribs, bruised and maybe cracked, but there was nothing she could do except wrap them, murmuring soft apologies when he flinched beneath her touch.

When she was done, she sat back, studying her work.

“You should be in the military,” Lando muttered, voice laced with exhaustion. “Proper little nurse, you are.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I would be in the military, if they let me fight.”

His gaze softened. “I reckon you’d win the whole bloody war if they did.”

She scoffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. For a moment, just a moment. Things almost felt normal.

But then, Lando let out a slow breath, the teasing fading from his face.

“I lost Oscar,” he said.

Her heart clenched.

Lando’s right hand-man. His best mate. She had met him once- just once, outside the bar, both of them too drunk to be serious about anything. He had been tall, full of quick wit and easy laughter, and Lando trusted him with everything.

She didn’t know what to say.

Lando didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed somewhere far away - empty. “We were shot down over France. They got us good. We tried-” He exhaled, his hands twitching, curling into fists. “We tried to jump, but Oscar- his parachute wouldn’t open. I saw him go down. Couldn’t do a damn thing.

She reached for his hand instinctively, gripping it tightly.

“I don’t know how I made it back,” he admitted. “I ran back for Oscar, took him as far as I could and gave him a final prayer. Silly right?” he chuckled. “I took a bullet to the leg after that, nearly starved, but some French boys found me. Got me out before the Jerries could.” His throat bobbed. “But Osc-”

He didn’t finish. 

She squeezed his fingers, her heart aching. “I’m so sorry, Lando.”

He nodded once, slowly. But she knew this wasn’t something he would ever truly move past.

The war took and took and took.

And yet, somehow, against all odds. Lando had come back.

She let the silence settle between them, her fingers still wrapped around his. It wasn’t comfortable, not with the weight of what he had just said, but she knew better than to rush him. Lando seemed like the type of man who carried his grief quietly, let it sink into his bones where no one could reach it.

After a while, she exhaled softly and asked, “So, what happens now?”

Lando tilted his head back against the wall, his bruised face illuminated by the dim glow of the gaslight. He looked tired. Bone tired. But the ghost of a smirk still tugged at his lips.

“Well,” he drawled, “I’m on the injury list until I heal. Not much use to ‘em like this, am I?” He gestured vaguely to himself, to the cuts, the bruises, the way his left arm still hung stiffly at his side. “Can’t fly, can’t fight. Means I’m stuck here for a bit.”

She nodded, trying not to let the relief show too plainly on her face. He was here. He wasn’t being shipped back out - at least not yet.

Lando glanced at her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Father O’Connell said I can stay at the Church until I’m good.”

That made her pause.

“The Church?” She repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed a quiet laugh, as if he had been expecting her reaction. “They’ve got a spare cot, and it’s better than the street, sweetheart.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile. "You? Sleeping under a roof dedicated to the Lord you don’t believe in?"

Lando smirked. "Reckon I’ll be fine, so long as the walls don’t cave in the moment I step inside."

She laughed then, shaking her head. "Blasphemous and injured. You’re on dangerous ground, Lando Norris."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," he murmured, wincing slightly as he shifted.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully. He was exhausted. She could see it in the way his body sagged slightly against the chair, the way his hands trembled faintly from either pain or sheer fatigue. He was trying to keep up the bravado, but she knew better.

"Stay here."

The words left her mouth before she had fully thought them through, but as soon as she said them, she knew she meant them.

Lando blinked at her. "What?"

She crossed her arms, feigning nonchalance. "You heard me."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Offering up your flat to a war hero, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Just an injured man who can barely stand upright."

Lando chuckled, but then he really looked at her—like he was trying to understand if she was serious. "I don’t wanna be a burden."

"You won’t be," she said, softer this time.

He studied her for a long moment, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to argue. Then, finally, he let out a small, resigned sigh.

"Alright, sweetheart," he murmured. "You win."

And for the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.

She looked after him because someone had to.

She changed the bandages on his ribs with careful hands, wiped the dried blood from his temple, made him tea even though he grumbled that he wasn’t some fragile old man. She forced him to eat, nudging a half-stale biscuit toward him when he thought she wasn’t looking. And when his body ached too much to sit upright, she guided him to the small bed in the corner of the flat, ignoring his protests as she threw a blanket over him.

It was quiet work. Steady. Something to keep her hands busy, something to stop her from thinking too much about the fact that just two days ago, she had been mourning him.

She was pouring him another cup of tea when she spoke, her voice quieter than before. "I prayed for you."

Lando, sitting up against the headboard, glanced at her. His injuries had settled into something duller now—still painful, but less sharp, less all-consuming. He wasn’t wincing as much when he moved, but his face still bore the bruises of war.

He studied her, something unreadable in his gaze. "Did you?"

She nodded, fingers tightening around the cup. "At the church. When I thought—when I thought you were gone."

His jaw tensed slightly, as if the thought of her grieving him was harder to bear than his own suffering. Then, after a pause, he exhaled and said, "I prayed."

Her head snapped up.

Lando Hargrove, the man who scoffed at church, who smirked every time she wore her cross, who always had something sharp to say about the God she wrestled with.

She swallowed. "You mentioned, you were serious?"

He nodded, looking down at his hands. His voice was quieter now, rougher around the edges. "When I was out there. Alone. Before the French boys found me, with Oscar." His fingers curled slightly, as if remembering the feel of the earth beneath them, the cold, the hunger, the absolute isolation. "Didn’t know if anyone was listening. Didn’t know if I even believed it." His gaze lifted to hers, raw in a way she wasn’t sure she had ever seen before. "But I thought of you."

Her breath caught.

She didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to unravel the knots twisting in her chest. So she just nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

The night carried on, slow and steady. She cleaned up the small mess from their tea, doused the gas lamp until only the dim glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains. Lando had already sunk lower into the bed, exhaustion pulling at him with an unrelenting grip.

"You should sleep," she murmured.

His lips twitched. "And where are you planning on going, sweetheart?"

She hesitated. The flat was small—there was only the one bed, and the chair in the corner wasn’t much of an option.

Lando let out a quiet chuckle, shifting slightly to the side. "Come on, then. I don’t bite."

She rolled her eyes but, after a moment, relented. Carefully, she climbed in beside him, keeping a respectful distance, but the bed was small, and warmth carried between them in the sliver of space that remained.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then, just as her eyes were beginning to slip shut, Lando’s voice came, barely above a whisper.

"Still wearing that ring?"

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t open her eyes. "Go to sleep, Lando."

He let out a quiet, tired laugh.

And with that, for the first time in what felt like years, they both let themselves rest.

The night was still. The distant hum of the city had quieted, leaving only the occasional echo of footsteps on the cobbled streets below.

She had been deep in sleep, cocooned in warmth, when the bed jolted beneath her.

Then—

"Oscar!"

Her eyes flew open.

Lando was thrashing beside her, tangled in the blankets, his face twisted in something raw, something agonising. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his fingers clenching around the sheets as if he were still there, still on the battlefield, still losing his best friend over and over again.

"No—Oscar—wait—"

His voice cracked, broken apart by a sob.

She moved before she could think, shifting onto her side, reaching for him. "Lando—Lando, wake up—"

But he wasn’t awake, not really. He was trapped in the depths of it, in the nightmare, his chest rising and falling far too fast, his body trembling under the weight of something she couldn’t see.

Her heart ached.

She touched his face gently, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. "Lando, love, it’s alright," she whispered, voice steady despite the tightness in her throat. "You’re here. You’re safe."

His breathing stuttered.

She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to bring him back. "It’s not real. You’re with me."

His eyes snapped open.

Wild. Glassy. He was still lost, still caught somewhere far away. But then his gaze landed on her—really landed on her—and something in him broke.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and then he was clutching her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. His body shook, and before he could turn away, before he could hide it, she felt it—

The tears.

Hot, silent, unstoppable.

Lando Norris was crying.

She didn’t hesitate. She lifted herself up, pressing soft kisses to his damp cheeks, tasting the salt of his grief. She wiped the tears away with her lips, her hands, her whole being, as if she could take the pain from him, as if she could bear it for him instead.

His hands curled into the fabric of her nightdress, his breath shuddering. He didn’t speak, and neither did she.

Instead, she held him.

And then, quietly, she whispered a prayer.

She didn’t know if he believed. Didn’t know if she believed anymore, not fully, not in the way she used to. But she prayed anyway, murmured soft words into the hollow space between them, words for Oscar, for Lando, for the war to end, for something greater than all of this.

Lando’s breathing slowed.

His grip on her loosened, just slightly.

She stroked his hair, pressing her forehead against his temple. "Sleep, love," she whispered. "I’ve got you."

He let out a shaky breath, and for the first time that night, he let himself fall.

And she held him, long after sleep claimed him again.

The rest of the night passed in fits and starts.

Even as Lando drifted back to sleep, his body remained tense, like he was waiting to be dragged back into the nightmare. Every so often, he’d shift against her, his fingers twitching in his sleep, a quiet murmur of Oscar’s name escaping his lips.

She didn’t let go.

She kept him close, her arms a steady anchor, her warmth something solid against the cold weight of his grief. When his breath hitched, she whispered reassurances into his skin. When his body shuddered, she ran soft, soothing strokes through his hair. And when dawn finally crept through the curtains, bathing the room in a muted grey light, she barely realised she hadn’t slept at all.

Lando stirred first.

It was slow—his body unwilling, his mind reluctant—but eventually, his brow furrowed, and he let out a low groan, pressing his face into the pillow.

She smiled softly. "Good morning."

A pause. Then, groggy, voice rough with sleep, he muttered, "Bloody hell."

She huffed a quiet laugh. "That bad, is it?"

He peeled one eye open, squinting at the light before shifting onto his back with a deep exhale. His gaze flickered to her, taking in the way she was propped up beside him, watching him with something gentle and knowing.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, voice lower now, almost hesitant.

She hesitated before answering. "You were already asleep when I came back," she murmured, "but you weren’t resting."

Lando’s jaw tightened. He looked away, exhaling slowly through his nose. "I—" He swallowed, then shook his head, running a hand over his face. "Shit."

"You don’t have to say anything," she said, watching him carefully. "Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want to."

Lando was silent.

And then—quietly, reluctantly—he said, "I dream about it."

She stayed quiet, letting him find his own words.

His fingers curled slightly into the sheets. "Sometimes it’s just flashes. The airfields, the engines, the bloody gunfire. Other times…" He exhaled sharply, his throat bobbing. "Other times, it’s Oscar. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. He’s still there, still trying to hold on, and I can’t—I can’t—" His voice faltered, raw and uneven.

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

Lando blinked hard, then let out a small, humourless chuckle. "God, you must think I’m pathetic."

Her grip tightened. "I think you’re human."

He glanced at her, something vulnerable in his expression. Then, without a word, he squeezed her hand back.

The moment lingered.

Then, as if suddenly aware of their closeness, Lando cleared his throat and made a weak attempt to sit up.

She rolled her eyes. "Slow down, soldier."

"I was never a soldier," he muttered. "Just a bloody pilot who got too good at running from death."

She didn't argue. Not about that.

Instead, she shifted out of bed, stretching her stiff limbs. "Come on, then. You need tea, and I need breakfast."

Lando gave her a lopsided smirk. "That an offer to cook for me, sweetheart?"

She arched a brow. "You think I’d let you in my kitchen with your injuries? You can barely stand."

Lando chuckled, wincing slightly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Reckon I should milk this while I can, then."

She threw a pillow at him.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the morning felt light.

The days passed in something dangerously close to peace.

For the first time in months—years, perhaps—she felt as though time had slowed, folding itself neatly around the four walls of her flat. Outside, London was still at war. Air-raid sirens still screamed through the streets, rations still stretched thinner by the day, and grief still clung to the city like fog. But inside, in the small space she shared with Lando, there was warmth.

Routine.

Something almost like a life.

She looked after him, of course. Changed his bandages when he let her, scolded him when he tried to do too much, forced food into his hands when he muttered that he wasn’t hungry. But he, in his own way, looked after her too.

He made her laugh, sometimes without meaning to. He occupied the space beside her like he belonged there, like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. He helped her with supper, standing over the stove with a cigarette perched between his lips, poking at potatoes with the wrong end of a wooden spoon.

One evening, after she had taken a pan from his hands with a sigh and done it herself, he leant against the counter and smirked.

"You know," he mused, watching her work, "you’d make a bloody good wife."

She nearly dropped the spoon.

The words caught her off guard, lodging themselves in a place she couldn’t quite reach, settling into the corners of her mind like an ink stain.

She glanced at him, half-expecting some cocky grin, but his expression was unreadable. He was watching her in a way that made her chest feel tight, made her hands shake ever so slightly as she turned back to the pan.

"Shame, that," she said, forcing lightness into her voice. "Don’t suppose anyone’s taking applications."

Lando hummed. "Well, I dunno about that," he said. "I did hear you’ve already got a fiancé."

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I knew you wouldn’t let that go."

"Course not." He grinned, stepping closer. "Imagine my surprise, waking up from the dead to find myself engaged. You could’ve at least let me propose first."

She swatted at him half-heartedly, but the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

It stuck with her more than she wanted it to.

After that, the thought wove its way into everything.

When she was brushing flour from her hands after baking the world’s most pitiful loaf of bread, she caught him watching her, and the words you’d make a bloody good wife flickered through her mind before she could stop them. When he reached for something on a high shelf, when he nudged her with his shoulder as he passed by, when he said ta, love with that easy grin—

It settled in her chest like a secret, like a whisper of something neither of them dared say out loud.

The week and a half passed like that. Cooking together, filling the flat with the scent of onions and broth, losing themselves in the simple pleasure of warm meals and soft laughter. The war felt distant, just for a little while.

She knew it wouldn’t last.

But God, she wished it would.

Another week passed, a haze of quiet mornings, warm meals, and the occasional conversation that lingered too long, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile cocoon they’d woven around themselves. There were days when they barely noticed the outside world at all, as though the war had turned into nothing more than a distant rumble, something happening on the other side of a window that had been carefully closed.

The mornings had become routine—her getting up first, brewing tea, him shuffling into the kitchen in a half-awake stupor, ruffling his hair as he grumbled about being woken. The evenings fell into a rhythm too, with them sitting on the small couch, half a room away, each wrapped in the comfort of the other’s company, while the world continued its war somewhere beyond the windows.

One morning, she woke with the warm weight of Lando's arm around her, his breath soft against the back of her neck. She hadn’t realised it at first, but somehow, during the night, he had pulled her close, and now she lay pressed to his chest, his hold tight, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

She shifted, careful not to disturb him, and the soft sound of bells reached her ears—faint at first, a distant chime that grew louder. She frowned, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t the air-raid sirens, and it wasn’t a church bell for a funeral. No, this was different. This was... celebration?

She carefully pulled herself out of his arms, wincing at the small space between them, and padded quietly across the room. Her fingers brushed the curtains aside, and she peered out of the window.

The street below was buzzing with life. People were spilling into the streets, laughing, shouting, and cheering. Flags were being waved. And there—there were the children, dancing in circles, holding hands like they were marking the end of something heavy. The sounds of joyous voices drifted up to her.

Her heart began to pound. No... it can’t be…

"Lando," she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

She turned back toward the bed, her heart thundering as she crossed the room in a few quick strides. She leaned over him, shaking him gently at first, then more urgently. "Lando, darling—wake up!"

He groaned, rolling over and blinking up at her with a dazed expression, his messy hair sticking up in all directions. His face softened when he saw her, but it didn’t last long as the sound of the bells filled the room.

"What—?" He froze, his eyes suddenly clear, his breath catching.

She couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Lando, the war—it’s over. They’re celebrating. Can’t you hear the bells?"

His eyes widened, then narrowed as he slowly pushed himself up, confusion flickering across his face before realisation dawned on him. The sound of the bells reached his ears, clearer now, and he could hear the cheering too. The world outside, the noise, the celebration—it was undeniable.

He sat up, blinking as he rubbed a hand over his face, disorientated for a moment as if he were still in a dream. Then, a half-laugh, half-sob escaped him, and for a moment, he didn’t move. He just looked at her, his gaze flickering over her face.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. "Is this... is this really happening?"

She nodded, her own disbelief mirrored in her wide eyes. "It’s true, Lando. They’re celebrating. The war’s ended. It’s finished."

He sat there, silent for a beat too long, before shaking his head as if to clear it. Then, he suddenly sprang from the bed, moving quickly, as if the news had sparked something deep inside him, something that couldn’t be contained.

In a few long strides, he was at the window beside her, his eyes scanning the crowds below. People were hugging, crying, dancing in the streets. And for the first time in years, there were no sirens, no orders to follow, no planes overhead.

Lando’s hand reached for hers, his fingers squeezing with a kind of urgency she hadn’t felt in days. His voice was soft, still somewhat stunned. "It’s over," he whispered, his lips curving in something fragile—something that might have been a smile, if not for the look of wonder in his eyes.

She nodded, her heart swelling with something she didn’t know how to name. "It’s over, Lando."

He turned to face her, his hand still holding hers, his thumb rubbing along her knuckles in a slow, tender motion. His eyes softened, the hardness that had lingered around the edges of them for so long finally ebbing away. "What now, then?" he asked quietly, as if the question itself was almost too much to ask after everything.

She thought about it for a moment, the uncertainty of the future heavy in the air between them, but the weight of the moment didn’t seem as daunting now. The war had ended. The world was open. And somehow, impossibly, they had made it.

"I don’t know," she replied, her voice soft, "but we’re still here. And that’s enough for me."

Lando smiled then, the warmth returning to his face, and for the first time since she’d met him, it wasn’t just a smirk or a teasing grin—it was something full of hope, something genuine.

Then, without another word, he leaned down and kissed her.

The moment his lips met hers, the world outside—the cheers, the bells, the war that had just ended—ceased to exist.

Lando kissed her like he had waited his whole life to do it, like he had been holding it back for weeks, months, maybe even longer. His hands cupped her face, rough and warm, his fingers sliding into her hair as he pulled her in like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

She gasped against his mouth, barely catching her breath before he kissed her again, deeper this time, more desperate, more real. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fisting the fabric like she needed to hold onto something solid, like if she let go, she might slip away into whatever fever-dream this felt like.

His body was warm against hers, his breath uneven as he pressed her back against the wall, his lips trailing from her mouth to her jaw, then to the hollow of her throat. She shuddered at the feeling, at the way his hands mapped out every inch of her like he wanted to memorise her in case she vanished before his eyes.

She felt alive.

After everything—after loss and grief, after nights spent in silence, after waking up to a world that had been at war for too long—this was the only thing that felt real. This moment, here, with him.

His forehead pressed against hers as he caught his breath, both of them dizzy from the weight of it all. His voice was low, rasping against her lips, breathless and full of something she couldn’t quite name.

"Well, what to do with my life now?" he murmured, his mouth quirking into something like a smirk, "s’pose I’ll just live here then. With my fiancée."

She let out a breathless laugh, her hands still tangled in his shirt. "Oh, will you now?"

"Reckon so." He grinned, but there was something warm and certain behind it. "Would be a bit odd for me to be staying with a woman I’m not engaged to, don’t you think? The people they’ll talk and your reputation. It’ll be ruined."

She raised an eyebrow. "Lando, you do know you never actually asked me, right?"

For a second, he looked taken aback, as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. But then, without hesitation, he stepped back, took her right hand in his, and before she could say another word—

He dropped onto one knee.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering wildly as she watched him, watched the way his fingers gently pried the ring from her right hand and held it between them.

His eyes found hers, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no bravado—just Lando, raw and real, looking at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

"I haven’t got a real ring," he said, voice quiet, steady, "not yet, anyway. But I’ll get one. I swear it." He swallowed, his thumb brushing against the band between his fingers. "I’ll find a job—something stable. I could go to school, or work at Billy’s pharmacy, or whatever pays enough to get us something real, something good. And then..."

He took a breath, his lips quirking up into a lopsided smile.

"Then, if you’ll have me, I’ll marry you proper. But for now, all I can do is ask."

He reached for her left hand, slipping the ring onto her finger where it belonged.

"So what d’you reckon, sweetheart?" His voice was softer now, his eyes never leaving hers. "Marry me?"

She stared at him, her chest tightening, her whole body light and heavy all at once.

And then, with the weight of the war finally lifting, with the streets outside alive with celebration, and with the man she loved on his knee before her—

She nodded.

"Yes," she breathed, tears pricking at her eyes. "Yes, Lando."

And before he could even stand, she threw herself at him, kissing him again like she would never stop.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore @driverlando

[marauder-misprint]

Hiii! So I wanted to request a Remus fic where the reader is really cheerfull flirty outgoing physical with everybody and bubbly but her English is not that good. If her native language would be hungarian would be great. So she sorta struggles. And like fluff. I'm so sorry if I come off as rude. 🫶

Hi! Thank you for this request and I'm sorry it took me a while to write it. I really hope you like it and that the Hungarian isn't too horrible. And your request isn't rude at all ❤︎ All of the Hungarian words/phrases are translated at the bottom

Édesem

Remus Lupin x Hungarian!reader

2.5k words

cw: fluff :), Hungarian from Google Translate

So many people loved you at Hogwarts. You sported a bright smile everywhere you went. If someone forgot their quill, you let them borrow one of yours. They forgot their book? You offered to share yours. When your words didn’t fail you, you were the first to compliment people when they gave an insightful answer or looked especially nice or whatever could earn them a compliment. You were also quick to offer hugs and high fives, to give someone a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, to ‘boop’ someone’s nose or ruffle their hair. 

Your biggest issue? English wasn’t your first language. It meant you missed things in class and in passing with other students. Maybe that was part of why your smile was so prominent. You didn’t get half of the negative things that gossiped about. You could live in your world at times and spread the positivity that you saw. 

But then Professor Flitwick held you back after class. He had your most recent essay in front of him and a frown on his face. 

“This essay is simply illegible,” he said.

You mimicked his frown as you looked at your impeccable handwriting. 

“Mit?” 

“It’s incomprehensible. Makes no sense.”

“Ah. Can I… ah, írj… write again?” 

“Yes, I was going to ask you to. With the help of Remus Lupin. He’ll meet you in the library tonight after dinner.”

He handed you the essay. You reread your work. You thought that it made sense, but apparently not. You tucked it into your bag and offered the professor your thanks before leaving his classroom. For the rest of your day whenever you had downtime in classes, you took out the essay and reread what you wrote, trying to see where you had room for improvement. Something must’ve gotten dropped or left out during your translating. It’s your main focus for all of dinner, making it easier to block out the conversations that are happening around you. 

You hugged your friends after you were done eating. You’d see them in the common room later and now, you needed to go to the library. You quickly scanned the library when you got there, trying to see if Remus was there already. You found him at a table near the back. 

“Remus, hi!” you said as you sat down right night to him, moving your chair as close to him as you could and knocking your knees together.

The look he gave you was unreadable. You were blissfully unaware of how your closeness and brief moment of touching threw him off. He was relatively closed off to anyone who wasn’t a close friend. As bubbly and sociable as you were, you didn’t qualify.

“Rewriting that essay for Flitwick, right?” he asked before subtly moving his chair away from you.

“Yes! Thank you for help.” 

You pulled out your first attempt of the essay along with your Charms book, fresh parchment, your quill and ink. Everything you needed. 

“And….” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed your Hungarian to English dictionary that you carried with you. “Okay. Where do we start?”

“May I read what you wrote?” Remus asked, slowly reaching for your essay.

You slid it toward him with your hand barely brushing his. While he took the time to read your essay and occasionally scribble notes in the margins, you opened your textbook to the section you were supposed to be using. The air was still for a few minutes. You prepared to rewrite an entire essay and handle the criticism. 

Remus cleared his throat when he finished reading. He placed the essay down back in front of you. 

“It’s not bad, but I agree with Flitwick. There are sections that, erm, I can’t read. I noted which ones.” He reached to point to what he was referring to. “But the overall content is fine.”

You placed your hand over his. “You think so?” 

“Wouldn’t have it if I didn’t mean it.” 

You read over his notes and started to rewrite your essay. Remus watched you work for a few minutes before he took out his assignments to work on. He snuck glances at you, telling himself that he was just checking your progress. It definitely wasn’t to watch you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you focused. It wasn’t to see you twist your lips as you reread your essay and his notes. And he most certainly didn’t smile at the way the candle light made your eyes shine. 

“I think… I think I fixed it? Can you read?” you asked, setting your quill down.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can read it.”

Remus set aside his own work and took your essay. Without the confusing segments, the essay was much better. Remus nodded, giving it back to you once he finished reading it. 

“Flitwick will like that one. Much better.”

The smile that you gave Remus took his breath away. Almost as much as when you then leaned in to hug him. He awkwardly patted your arms as they wrapped around him from the side. You barely knew him and yet here you were, hugging him as if you were lifelong friends.

“Thank you, Remus,” you said before letting go. 

You started to pack your things away and Remus returned to his assignments. He tried to steady his breathing and heart rate. He expected that to be the end of the interaction. You stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder, pausing to look at Remus while he worked. 

“Could you help more? Essays are hard,” you said, your voice soft.

Remus looked up to see your pleading eyes.

“Yeah. We can meet here on Tuesdays and Thursdays?” 

Your smile somehow widened. 

“Thank you!” 

Then you left. He watched you leave, curiosity about you flowing through his veins. He knew everyone loved you and with this short evening together, he absolutely understood why. You emanated joyful energy. You were beautiful. You were… fantastic. And you had just asked him to spend more time with you. Was it for homework? Yes, but Remus wasn’t going to let that deter him from enjoying your presence. 

From then on, Remus looked forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays. He had classes with you and could see you during passing or meals, but those evenings in the library? You were all his. You sat mostly in silence, but you were always right next to him. Sitting too close, touching his hand, smiling at him, hugging him. He could sneak glances at you without the risk of anyone noticing how often he did so. 

“Can you read, Édesem?” you asked, sliding him a Transfiguration essay you had been working on. 

“Of course.”

Since that first session together, Remus didn’t usually make notes on your essays. In sections when your Hungarian messed with your English, he tapped his wand to the essay to make grammar and spelling changes. The only notes he made were when the content of the essay needed edits. He couldn't help pride he felt when he noticed your essays having fewer and fewer errors. He told himself that he was part of why that was happening.

Most of the time, you busied yourself with something else while he read over your work. Not today though. You watched him read, your eyes tracing over the scars on his face, forearms and hands. Because he was reading your essay, you stopped yourself from brushing his hair out of his eyes. It had grown a fair amount since your first session. 

You sighed. “Jóképű vagy…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, not looking up from the parchment. 

You flushed and looked away. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. And then Remus said your name.

“Mit?” you asked.

“Did you say something?” 

“No.” Did you say that too quickly? Did you sound uncertain? 

“Oh… I thought… Ah, never mind…” A moment passed. “Here’s your essay back. It’s good.”

“Thank you, Drágám,” you said with a slight smile.

“What’s that mean? Dragon?” 

You knew your blush was becoming more prominent. 

“It’s…” You couldn’t tell him what it actually meant. Your Hungarian pet names were supposed to your secret way was expressing your feelings. “It means friend.”

“Huh. Cool.” 

He seemed to believe you. You had been calling him Drágám and Édesem for a few sessions now. He had never explicitly asked what they meant until now. He assumed that they meant something along the lines of friend, but he wanted to be sure. And now he knew. 

You hugged him again before you left. Then you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks, again, Remus. I appreciate the help.” 

As soon as your back was to him as you walked away, Remus brought his hand up to his cheek where your lips had just been. He used to think that the hug was overkill for the level of friendship you had and the amount of help he was giving you. A kiss, albeit on the cheek, but still a kiss? It felt like a lot. 

Then he noticed the small book you accidentally left behind. The Hungarian to English dictionary. He put it in his bag. He could give it back to you when he saw you in class. Remus was positive it wasn’t something you’d want to lose. He worked for a bit longer before returning to his dorm.

As he lay in bed that night, he flipped through the dictionary. He came across words he heard you say from time to time and words you mixed up for English ones. There were a few that caught his eye as he lazily scanned the pages. Édesem and Drágám were two of the big ones. The little nicknames you had called him and they certainly didn’t mean friend. 

He closed the book, setting it on his bedside table with a deep blush covering his entire face. You had been calling him terms of endearment in your native tongue. Did you call everyone that? As he observed you in the past few weeks, he noticed that you hugged a lot of people. You seemed to have a lot of love to give, not that it was a bad thing. But he hadn’t paid attention to how you spoke to others. He knew he needed to. He needed to know if these terms were your normal vocabulary or reserved for your study buddy. 

He found you the next day before Charms to give you the dictionary back. 

“You left this last night. Thought you’d like it back.”

“Remus! Köszönöm, jóképű! Thank you!”

As if to enforce his observations, you pulled him into a hug and then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I would be dead without this,” you said as you pulled back. 

He gave you a polite smile and made his way to his desk. He knew he had interrupted your conversation with your friends and now he was kicking himself for not trying to listen to how you spoke before he interrupted or lingering after you let him go. He also regretted not having the dictionary any more. Jóképű? That was a new name. What if that one really did mean friend? 

He figured he’d just have to wait.

And he did. He waited until your next study session together. He planned to wait until you let one of the pet names slip and he’d ask you about it again. 

It didn’t take long.

“Hello, Drágám,” you said cheerfully as you walked up to your usual table. 

Remus waited until you sat down and subconsciously moved your chair closer to his, like you did every time. 

“There it is again, Drágám.”

“Mit?” you asked, tilting your head as you looked at Remus. There was something new in his warm honey eyes that made you melt.

“Drágám. The name I asked you about.”

You cleared your throat. “Right. Friend.”

Then he chuckled. 

“It doesn’t mean friend,” he said matter-of-factly. He gestured to your bag where he knew the dictionary was tucked away. “I… I, ah, I looked it up.”

Your face burned bright red within seconds. 

“You looked it up?”

“I was flipping through the pages. Curious, you know. And I, erm, I came across it. Precious? Honey? And the other one… Éde-something.”

“Édesem,” you whispered, the sinking feeling of embarrassment covering you from head to toe. You wanted to disappear into your chair. 

“Sweetheart,” he said. 

He didn’t look angry when he said that. If anything, he looked nervous.

“What was it that you called me when I gave you the dictionary back? I couldn’t look it up… Obviously.”

You bit your lip before saying, “Friend?”

Remus chuckled and then gestured to your bag. “Do you mind if I check?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached into your bag to grab the small book. You handed it to Remus without looking at him. 

“It was… ahem, jóképű,” you said in a small voice.

Remus flipped through the pages until he found it. Then his face was covered in a matching shade of red. Handsome. It seemed to glare at him from the page. He swallowed thickly before allowing him to look at you.

You were staring at your hands, which were clasped in front of you on the table. He slowly reached out and placed his on top of yours. 

“Do you say that to all of your friends?” he whispered.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice or your own words. 

“Édesem, please look at me,” he said. 

Your heart leapt at him using the endearment back at you. He was using it to refer to you, right? The sweet look on his face only made you think that he was. He leaned in slightly.

“Do you really think I’m… joke… ah, I can’t pronounce it…”

“I do…” 

You slid one of your hands out from under his to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s a… um, előnye… a…” You then held up a finger and reached for the dictionary. After a moment of you scanning a few pages, you continued, “It’s a perk of studying with you.” 

“And I thought I was the only one with that perk,” Remus said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?”

“Having a pretty study mate. Bit distracting for getting work done, but nice all the same.”

You gave him a confused look so he continued.

“Édesem, you’re breathtaking. And I really like being near you, working with you, helping you. It’s the highlight of my day.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your blush once again deepening.

This time it was Remus who removed a hand to move some of your hair. He tucked it behind your ear before letting his hand rest on the side of your face. 

“Can I… ah… Can…” he stuttered before leaning in more. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he kept moving closer. And then you realized what he was doing a moment after his lips brushed yours. You leaned into the kiss as your silent way of accepting it. 

Translations from google translate

Mit - what 

Írj - write

Édesem - honey/sweetheart

Drágám - my precious

Jóképű vagy - you’re so handsome

Köszönöm, jóképű - thank you, handsome

Előnye - advantage/benefit/perk

[tswaney17]

Wildest Dreams - Part 2

She liveeeeessss.

Sort of. I want to thank the incredible @moonfalles for helping to inspire this chapter (I had no idea that this fic needed a second part, but I was desperate for some tender Azriel/Elriel moments). The headcanons we've been sharing with each other gave me that burst of creative energy to write this in one day. So, bless you, my darling, for being my muse. 🥰

Am I back? No. Am I working on stuff to possibly be back one day? Yes.

Remember, writers need engagement to keep going. If you liked this story, please share that with me! I'd love to hear your thoughts. 💕

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Trigger warnings: None

Word Count: 1,978

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.

Azriel landed on the back terrace of his and Elain’s home. It was a beautiful spring afternoon and he knew that his two girls would be spending it in the garden, Elain pruning her various flowers with Rosalie buzzing around her like a little bumblebee.

He smiled at the thought. His daughter earned that nickname a few years back when she was toddling around with her mother. Azriel had said she reminded him of a bee orbiting its flower. Elain had smiled at that, asking him if Rosalie was his little bumblebee.

Without hesitating, he looked at his wife with a broad smile and said, “Yes.” His heart ached at the memory. She was only a bumblebee to her Papa. That was his special nickname for his sweet girl.

Striding through the yard, Azriel took note of the blooming flowers, his shadows flitting between the shaded spots cast by the petals and leaves.

As predicted, he found them in a back corner of Elain’s garden, pruning a section of night-blooming jasmine. It was one of Elain’s favorite sections of her garden, and his too, as it always smelled like her. Azriel couldn’t get enough of his wife’s sweet jasmine scent.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

I'm done using a taglist. So, if you'd like notifications when I post on Tumblr, please subscribe to my fanfic account! Otherwise, follow me on AO3. 🥰

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

[delight-angelsbliss]

Can I get sonic, knuckles, or shadow trying to help reader dealing with an ed like annawrecksya or bullymia. Fan of either romantic or platonic <3

Precis: knuckles, sonic and shadow with a reader who has an ed (seperate) can be read as both platonic or romantic

Warnings: ED, anorexia, mentions of puking, hurt/comfort, Sonic feeling so guilty he starts to take mental hits, lowkey that happens with most of them but I won't spoiler

Notes: in the psychiatric hospital my roommate taught me unhealthy ways to lose weight like making yourself puke with a toothbrush or even puking up meds to not gain weight since usually in the hospital everyone gained weight and became a victim of this. Guys I swear I can write angst trust 🙏 also might of yapped a bit too much sry for the delay to the other requesters heh cuz I usually go from first to last request until the first one is finished!! Also yapped a bit too much with sonic heh I decided to only go with anorexia because that's what I know better but maybe I'll make one with bulimia if y'all want

Sonic (anorexia part)

Sonic is already pretty skinny (as everyone can see) , he's gotten many compliments and weird comments about it before. It never bothered him. He likes himself and how fit his body is, he doesn't see a reason why people would hate their body. That all changed when he met you, the moment he looked at you, he could tell something was off. You rarely ate and would always immediately go to the bathroom after, only coming back with somewhat shaking legs, your breath smelled like puke, and your eyes looked lifeless. It made him so sad knowing that's how you valued your health, purely based on how your body looks.

Sonic made sure to check that you've eaten your food, and stayed with you for the next few hours so you didn't have any way to puke it put, even if that didn't work most of the time. Sonic knew you could excessively exercise after, or even starve yourself for days if you so please. He knew there we're ways to prevent it, but damage was already done, Sonic tried talking to you, getting you to a hospital, therapy, ANYTHING to help you. Yet for some reason he never truly saw the happy image of you he used to have. You'd drink water and put on more layers when getting your weight taken, openly reassuring him everything is fine and twisting his words to make it seem like he's overreacting. He knew this was a hard thing to avoid, he couldn't just avoid his precious loved ones treating themself so bad! It felt like he was hearing the world on his shoulders. His world; you.

Sonic slowly started withdrawing himself from his friends and other events, he started hanging out more with you to make sure you were eating properly. Sonic would sometimes withdraw or act off when going on a mission and this is basically like a mission to rescue you! That was always his excuse when he spent countless nights thinking of you and going back to friends, he felt so guilty leaving you all alone to fend anorexia alone. He wasn't going to let you live like this, that's a promise. Sonic felt tired after weeks and weeks of getting his concerns dismissed; "she gained 2 kg when we checked last week! She might need to cut, haha" "didn't you see how bloated she was? That's because she's eating more food" he knew those were lies, water can easily pass and help weight loss while making most bloated from lots of water, he knew you could put on socks and extra layers to 'gain more' when getting weighed. Sonic started hiding your pills like fat Blocker to help you gain more weight, instead he replaces them with iron pills

He started seeing real differences, so did you. You knew you would blow your cover if you said anything, sonic knew that too, he backed you into a corner (with kabedon 👅) so there wasn't anywhere to run, you wouldn't be able to outrun him anyway. He will always find a way to help you. He was determined, he won't give up! No matter what pills he has to replace, what methods he has to use to talk to you, he will help you!

Knuckles

With the mountain of version of knuckles it's hard to find common ground but I tried to go in the middle of them all

When knuckles first met you, he saw you as a happy and healthy person, but slowly. Something shifted, he noticed your weird behavior when going out to eat, how everything always in your home looked full; food expiring/never running out. He thought it was odd that foods, especially snacks, were always there. It worried him beyond comprehension. Knuckles is already pretty muscular and happy with his body so why can't you be? It worries him that you have to deal with these kind of thoughts

Knuckles trying to talk with you, wanting to get you to eat more. It had some lasting effects for a week... Or maybe not-? He would hear you making yourself puke each time after eating, it made him sick, sad, betrayed. It all felt like a roller coaster of emotions that he couldn't escape, he tried distancing yourself. It's better for me! Is what he thought to himself, but he realized; he's hurting you more if he just leaves you to deal with it all, the guilt ate him. So he started subtly pushing back into your life.

When he did push back inside, he noticed how broken you seen. You haven't been taking care of yourself, you've dropped many kilos, your body looked so broken and he could tell you felt the exact same way. Knuckles knew this was not healthy, he felt every bone in his body go limp, he couldn't break down now and he knew it! He had to help you! It was just a time race at this point to get you to be healthy again, a healthy weight, healthy diet, and knuckles wasn't going to give up

Shadow

We all know Shadow is a loner, he hasn't met many people in general so seeing an anorexic one was surprising and concerning to him. Under the presumption you two already built a relationship (platonic or Romantic doesn't matter) Shadow knew what he was signing up for when being friends with you, he knew you could starve yourself to death any second, the thought made shivers run down his spine every single time. He didn't want to lose another. He won't let you die. In my head, I'd see Shadow be extremely difficult, protective, overbearing, and much more! He won't let you have privacy because he wants to ensure your safety, no matter how much you communicate with him, it won't help his thoughts ease up

Shadow isn't gonna get crushed that easy, he isn't a communicator and he certainly won't try in this scenario... Until he realizes just how uncomfortable you are, you won't shower, dress, eat or anything really when he's near, he slowly realizes just how uncomfortable he makes you. That's when he truly eases up, going to sonic and the gang for help to find ways to correctly help his loved one! That's when he gives you more privacy, trying to communicate (surprisingly) making sure you have a nice filling meal prepared and more stuff that should help promote eating

I know this is probably annoying, but he bans you watching movies or series that have even a glimpse of an ED. He doesn't want you seeing it on TV or anywhere else, no insecurities, no movies that make fun of insecure people! He might loosen up sometimes when he sees you watching it without any problems, but otherwise. You're always going to be in good care with him

[charmed-asylum]

I want to start with saying this among so many things I’m gonna say though out honey idk about u but damn u are talented like way you wrote this and wrote it so realistic so authentic so well amazing. Lee not perfect plastic version of himself or foam at the mouth monster but a more if this was everyday thing I see this and the reader too. He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

As I said we start right off the back on an odd way to start him out ( which he probably done so often ) eating lunch on watch or should I say watching her. ( which u so wonderfully done brought it back and put a bow on it ) He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. I mean it in my mind feels or looks what a ballerina would look like . All in her own little world .

We know from his little thoughts to himself that he been watching her for a long time . How long is she like 5 years younger or so and he grew up with her or longer. Fascinated !! lol like from what goes around to watching to even speaking to your parents and they didn’t see the signs probably how reader been missing it but let’s be realistic sometimes it’s like that which is probably like many others I too find myself drawn and maybe 🤔 rooting for the two .

Isn’t funny how it’s the ones that don’t do or act the same like the general does that look away . Little things and poof they draw it up to a big thing “ Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest. “ I like how you add it more of a separation then the others. Because it makes it feel idk show more realistic not just oh she different because she has brown hair and blue eyes not blonde hair and blue eyes or what not which I mean if that’s your reader good but way u write it feels more like you ( as in the reader reading it) . Then we got him talking about his little fantasies hehe man OO man this man something else

It’s so sad but true how many of us can relate again to this reader, “ It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.” And again this is a prime example of why like me why this story means so much . I mean what do we do all time from a sport to video games to online videos or simulation games we all do something to escape. It’s funny because she this adorable girl and she so innocent huh something I’m sure Lee Lee drool a water fall if he knew knew maybe guess but not knew. And she reading smut fantasy fairy tales lord if only Lee can read your mind u be wrap his chubby fingers.

In all the places I assume Lee be somewhere else but to pick her at a library lord he bold. Hehe just imagining him in his uniform between those book shelfs . But dang a lang snap me out a brown paper bag and glass cup of ice and water bc I never thought I saw this but man o man was this such a scene.

“They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him” now silly but it’s a question he was always been pleasant do you mean like she always seen him but in hindsight or in general because this kinda goes with beginning when he lays the ground work on his history with reader. So she been aware of him but still doesn’t realize it. Man o man I can’t say a thing bc I tend to act the same way.

Remember how I said I see now and agree w Lee well haha that went to 💯 percent higher after watching they laugh at her about chairs CHAIRS really shit we all need a little bit of comfort Im sure no one laugh at Goldie locks so why her I swear ooooo I will attack w my small hands and sharp nails rawwww and kick them til they are nothing bit soup 🍜. Like really really well this is the world we sadly live in . “ So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.”

Then we hear what she feels about her parents. “Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.” I mean shit this poor girl can’t win. LEE SAVE HER OR USE I NEED AN ALIBI FOR WHOOPING THIER ASS. and in walks Lee once again coming to save the day. Again once again it’s like having to take it from page one. Hehehe like he doing it all and she so use to not being treated or ask her opinion she doesn’t know how to deal with it. Small convocations complements etc etc all I wanted to do was eeek with excitement and then again pass out grab a brown bag and glass of ice water . Like way she was so into the story and ask about chickens or how she blurted out her favorite color. And he offers her how to drive ahhhhh loving it. Way he spoke to her and kept giving her words of encouragement ahhh my god or calling her cleaver or what not I am getting tattoo this story name to my heart bc I’m who always was addicted went more by now even about wanting a cat or learning to drive being lonely my god I don’t know how she made it I be dead but in all it’s smart on him getting the ability to talk to her with no way out and calling her a good girl he won just with that even though I don’t think she realizes what happening being she was like oh I will help him find a good girl but also was left a smile and was like I need to find ways to talk to him better next time in all this was such a good 1st chapter

Dream Of A Girl

Part 1

Summary: The sheriff had his eyes on you for a while, the town's joke of an Omega. You never thought you'd find love, but around him you just can't help acting on your inner instincts.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Word count: 3899

Warnings: Lee, small town gossip and bullying, neurodivergent reader, slurs\insult of neurodivergent back in the day, no cats🥺, turns slightly non-con at the end, Alpha\Omega

Notes: absolutely loved writing this, got really into it, I hope you'll enjoy it, and make sure to drop me a comment, I would love to hear what you think!💕

Series masterlist

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

He was watching you again. Inside his car, on his lunch break, slurping from his milkshake as his eyes never left your form. Your head was turned down, watching the pavement as you moved, yet you seemed to be aware where everyone else was because you never bumped into anyone. He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. You flinched if someone did.

You were alone a lot. Listening to the noises around you, or he would sometimes hear you murmur to yourself. Sometimes you made strange noises if you were excited. He knew what they said about you.

They thought you were weird.

He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

Of course, he was the sheriff, so no one dared to say it to his face. But they did to you. He had watched you for years. With your pretty hair, and that body…

He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. You always had an effect on him.

He loved your eyes, although you barely look up to him. You do that. You glanced past people, or talked with your face turned a different way. Some people looked at you funny when you did.

But he knows why. Your parents told him once. When you got dared into doing something naughty. You didn't like it, but told him you had said you would do it before they told you what you were supposed to do. And you needed to keep your promises.

He talked to you sternly about how wrong it was of you, and you sat there with tears in your eyes. Head down. Like you had committed the worst crime. You were a good girl. Your parents told him that. It wasn't your fault. It was those kids. They thought it was funny. School talked to them. They left you alone. But you didn't make many friends.

Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest.

He liked that about you. He didn't need to wonder what you thought. You weren't two faced like all the other bitches. Who smiled at him in hope for favors, or in hope he would turn his eyes away from what they were doing. You were, you.

When you were alone, or thought you were anyway, your shoulders relaxed and he could sometimes see you smiling. Most times you would if you spotted an animal. Talking to it, like it was your friend. And you were good with kids. Really good. They flocked to you and you easily handled them. You didn't like sudden noises, and you were very clear about that, and they listened to you.

That's something people did like about you, they had no problem ditching their kids on you. You were a natural.

It was one of the things he noticed first about you. That drew him towards you. Your natural motherly instincts. He knew you would do excellent with your own. And the idea of you, one or 2 kids by the hand, belly swollen with another, made him rock hard each time.

God, you would be so pretty. He imagined your children; babies with brown hair, maybe a cleft in their chin, like his. The family Bodecker. You, all soft and sweet smelling. A ring on your finger. It made him come so swiftly once he touched himself.

He was happy no one snatched you up. They all couldn't look past your different behavior and see the gem underneath. They were blind to your qualities. What fools. But it worked in his favor though. Such a good, sweet girl. All ripe for the picking.

You were growing and seemed to not be aware of him. That was okay, he was fine with letting you have this time for yourself. Just out of college, young women needed to find their own way. He didn't want you to feel like you missed out on everything once he married you. That led some housewives to turn a little crazy, he saw it all the time, married at 18 or even 16 at times, high school lovers, and by the time baby number 2 was on the way, they looked worn out and disappointed in life.

Not you though. You finished school, you had a nice job, good parents. He gave you that time. He never was far away though. Watching you. Making sure you stayed out of trouble. Or trouble didn't find you. There weren't many boys to approach you, but those with eyes did, those who were too eager to be bothered with your quirkiness. He made sure to scare them off. He didn't need the competition.

He had a good job, a job that gave him power over this town, a nice house. He could afford a family. When the time came, he could convince your parents he was a good match. But most important was he needed to convince you.

📖

You walked into the library to return your books and pick up new ones. You came here at least once a week, often twice, as you loved reading. It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.

Lately you got very into fairytales again. Consuming every book you could find, rereading classics, daydreaming about the magic that was both wonderful and scary. The Alpha King, and Omega and the false mate, Sleeping Beta…they were all lovely stories and you couldn't get enough. You walked through the rows upon rows of books, feeling calm and like you were amongst friends. Here you were safe. Here you were liked.

Your hands occasionally picked up a book and read the cover, lost in thought. You didn't even notice the presence next to you, until a voice shook you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me.”

You froze and looked up. Sheriff Bodecker looked down at you.

“Oh”, you said, stepping away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I didn't mean for you to leave. I just wanted to grab this book.”

You watched him as he picked up a faded green book. He flipped through the pages. You hadn't expected him to read. You scolded yourself after the thought. You didn't know him. It's just that…he didn't seem the type. You heard stories about him. They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him.

Gossip was tricky, though. For years rumors went around that you were stupid. That you were rude. That you were mentally challenged. They didn't understand you. And you honestly often didn't understand them. Luckily your parents loved you and stood up for you. They might not always understand but they didn't punish you the way other parents would have. They didn't make you feel bad for not always looking them in the face. Or for being blunt and too honest. How your head was in the clouds at times. Or how people overwhelmed you sometimes. But other people, they didn't get it. And they didn't like what they didn't get.

You watched everyone around you making friends and falling in love. Easily getting through events you struggled with. They got married, and started a family. It was difficult at times, to realize you wouldn't have that, but eventually you accepted it. You were comfortable with your life. You had your family, and one or two acquaintances, and you were okay. It was nice being alone. Quiet. When you were alone, no one expected something of you.

You watched out of the corner of your eye how he assessed the book, before he looked at you again. “Do you know if it's any good?”

You glanced at the title like you had to think about it. “It's a little boring. But I don't know what you're looking for.”

“Just a little something to entertain me in the evenings. I was never much of a reader, but I thought why not read a book once in a while instead of always putting the telly on, ya know?”

You nodded. “What genre are you interested in? Action? Or mystery.”

“Romance.”

You blinked. “Romance,” you quietly repeated. You're eyes gliding past the titles of books and thinking to yourself.

“I don't mind it being a little…naughty, might motivate me even more to be honest,” he chuckled.

Your cheeks heated, but you tried not to show any signs of your discomfort. A heated romance. Of course you could list a few, but it felt awkward sharing that with him. You hummed softly under your breath, more out of nerves than anything, but you grabbed a book eventually. “A little naughty, and definitely romance,” you told him.

He hummed and turned the book in his hands. “Thank you, I didn't know where to start.”

“The librarians are happy to help if you can't find anything.”

“Yes, I'm sure they are, but you seem like you know more about this stuff.”

Maybe you did. Maybe it was easier to approach a visitor than the strict ladies running this place? You continued your search, but he did not leave.

“Don't you have enough books?”

You frowned. How could anyone have enough books? And why was he criticizing you? “I like reading.”

He laughed. “ No, I can see that, but do you really read all these in a week?”

“No. Sometimes I read them in a few days.”

“Oh, really. Okay. That's impressive. I really need to catch up if I were to compete with you.”

“It's not a competition. You can read how you want.”

“Oh I know, I was just joking.”

It wasn't a very good joke in that case. “Oh.” You thought, then replied. “Do you need anything more?”

There was silence, then he answered awkwardly. “No, you helped enough.”

You nodded.

He said your name quietly and when he didn't continue, you looked to the side at him. Your eyes locked and you blinked before you looked away.

“Tell your parents hello from me, will you?”

You nodded. You would, if you remembered.

He walked away and you were left feeling a little weird about the whole conversation. Sheriff Bodecker, reading a romantic book. It seemed a little silly. But maybe he was a little lonely. He was unmarried and didn't seem to be in a hurry to get settled.

He asked for something a little naughty, though. If he wanted anything naughty he should've gone to a different section of the library. They had a few of those, although most people didn't dare to pick them up and give the ladies anything to gossip about. Sheriff Bodecker, with a naughty book. You smiled to yourself. It would be the talk of town.

🤎

You wrapped your scarf around your neck, it was a little chilly today. Maybe you were just tired. It had been a long day at work today, your hands were cramped from all the typing, and your colleagues had left you feeling a little upset. Normally you tried to not listen to their chatter and ignore if they were ever negative about you. But today…they had stood a little nearer and you had more trouble filtering their voices.

They had talked about Marcie, who had found herself a beau. If only it had stayed about Marcie, it would have been fine. But they had looked over at you and pretended to lower their voices.

“Spinster”, they had used. They giggled slightly during it. You pretended not to see them staring at you. Or how they didn't care if you heard it.

“She’s never going to find anyone, I mean did you hear her talk about the different office chairs to mr. Johnson? One would think she had to sit on spikes.

You bit your lip. You did not want to cry in front of them. They had changed the chairs two days ago, the old ones too worn out to be pleasant. But you had liked them. You were used to them. And it felt like an old friend had been ripped away from you. So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.

And now they kept bringing other things up in their conversations. Like they enjoyed your discomfort.

You did your job well, however, so you were pretty sure if you laid low for a while, mr. Johnson wouldn’t fire you. You always made sure to finish all your work, even if you had to stay longer. Got the job done.

But now, at the end of the work day, you felt exhausted. It was tiresome keeping up pretense. The constant noise of the workplace around you. A short break to try and relax and be alone wasn't enough. You knew maybe things would be easier if you sat with them and told them things you heard, so they could gossip about someone else for once. But you didn’t like them. And they were too much. You needed your break to rest before getting back to work. You often sat outside on a bench alone, or took a walk.

You took a deep breath. Tonight you were going to read your new book, and ask your daddy if he wanted to play the piano. He didn’t do it as often as he used to, but you always enjoyed his music. He would do it for you, you knew it.

As a single Omega, you still lived with your parents. It was common to do so. You couldn’t live alone with your designation and it didn’t seem like you would ever move out and get your own home to look after. Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.

You walked past the shops, occasionally looking through the windows. You liked window shopping. Seeing all the new things on display, even if you didn’t buy much. You didn’t need it. But sometimes you saw something pretty and pondered if you should get it. You should buy a new dress. Most of the ones you had were getting a little old. But they were so comfortable and new dresses felt a little tight and rough. Perhaps your mother would buy some fabric and sew one for you. She knew your tastes.

A car honked next to you and you startled. When you looked around with a beating heart you noticed the car of the sheriff. He had rolled down his window and called out to you.

“Sorry, little lady, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you walking and thought maybe you wanted a ride home?”

You blinked. A ride with the sheriff. You had never done that. “I’m fine walking.” You replied and tried to smile.

“You just look tired, is all. And it is going to rain soon.”

Was it? You didn’t feel much like getting wet. Still, this was weird. Different. What were you even going to say to him?

He opened the door from the inside though, clearly expecting you to get in, and you didn’t want to be rude. He meant well.

You clambered in, fixed your dress and your hair.

“Long day?” he mentioned. “You look tired.”

“Yes.” you answered.

“I get that, I’ve been busy since 5 this morning myself.” he sighed. “Got a call in for a robbery. Those damn Callen boys always stealin’ them chickens from the Bookers farm. Not exactly the most exciting job.”

You blinked, thought of how to reply. “Did you get them back?”

He chuckled. “Well some of ‘em. They ate at least two, but I arranged for them to work a few weeks at the place to pay them back. And I'll make damn sure they're going to show up and do the work.”

You nodded. The Bookers were cheapskates, but a theft was a theft, and you were sure they enjoyed the free labor. Those chickens couldn't be worth that much.

“You look nice today,” he mentioned suddenly.

You looked down at your dress. A little frayed around the edges. Your hair must've been less than proper because you tended to play with it if you were in thought. Maybe he was being nice. “Eh, thank you,” you mumbled.

He hummed. “That dress is a nice color.”

“Blue is my favorite,” you blurted out. You wore red today, you didn’t know why you said it.

He chuckled. “Is that right? Well I love blue.”

Your eyes looked anywhere but him, at the passing buildings and bushes. What else were you going to say? It was polite to talk back, your mother had told you. Ask about something!

“Ehm, this is a nice car,”

He turned to look at you again, not keeping his eyes on the road and you swallowed. “Well, it comes with the job, but it does its work.”

You nodded.

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Oh no. No, no. I do not.”

“I could teach you.” he offered, and your heart rate increased.

“No!...no. I don't think I can, I get nervous.”

“Well everyone gets nervous the first time, but you’ll learn soon enough, you’re a clever girl.”

You blinked at him. No one had ever called you clever before. You weren’t stupid, you werent, but no one thought you were particularly bright. “I get nervous.” you told him firmly.

He hummed “Well alright, If you change your mind, I'm more than willing.

“I don't mind walking.” you told him.

“Yeah, I see you walking around. You like looking at things don’t you?”

You looked down, ashamed, but his finger lifted your chin. You startled at the contact.

“Wasn't mocking you. I just see you sometimes. Gotta keep an eye on the crowd to make sure nothing happens, part of the job, I can’t help it. So I see you walking and befriending the neighbors cats.”

“Oh.” You didn't know what to think of this. Being watched. You always felt like you were. “I like cats.”

“I like them too. They’re a little feisty. You got one at home?”

You shook your head. “No, my parents don’t want one.”

“I was thinking about getting one. Might be nice to come home to something, you know? House is all empty.”

You understood. You’re parents rules, however, nothing you could do about it.

He sighed “ Yeah…. gets real lonely for a man by himself. You got someone waiting on ya?”

“Eh no. No, no one.” You felt nervous. You knew it was common for a girl your age to settle, or have settled already. It was embarrassing to admit.You had never even kissed before.The thought of it made you anxious though, How to even do that with a tongue, and how to move? It seemed mighty complicated.

“Me neither,” he admitted. “It’s a hard job, and not everyone can deal with being the wife of a sheriff. I’d treat her right, though. Yessir. I’d be a good husband. For the right woman. I always wanted that. A house, a wife, some kids. A nice meal when I get home…”

You hummed, like he had done before.

"You can cook?”

Your eyes moved rapidly over the car interior. “Why, yes?” it came out as a question.

“Yeah I expected you to. You’re a good girl after all. Momma raised you right.”

You felt warmth shoot through you. You didn’t know why. He was being nice. And you weren’t used to that. You actually were a pretty good cook. And you liked doing it. Relieving your mother from the hard work running a household was. And showing you cared. You know you weren’t always good with that. Often absorbed in your own head and your own feelings. So cooking was something you could do.

“Would love to have a home made meal again. It’s been so very long.”

You nodded.

He eyed you. And as the silence lingered he tsked. “Well, who knows, maybe someone will invite me someday.”

“Oh. Yes. I'm sure,” you were quick to agree. It would be nice for him. Someone cooking. Maybe Miss Oleson would, the woman was all alone and about 70, she probably would love the company.

You would ask her, so he wouldn't feel embarrassed. Miss Oleson would watch you sometimes when you were younger, and she was kind to you. She always gave you candy even if your parents had told her not too. You were fond of her.

You arrived at your house soon and you got out. He leaned towards the window again.

“If you want, I can come pick you up again tomorrow.”

You blinked. Why? Was it going to rain again tomorrow?

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s my pleasure.” he grinned. “Unless i’m being called away, but if so, I’l call you.”

“I don’t have a phone.” You eyed the laces of your shoes.

He laughed. “No silly, at your office, I can call the company.”

“Oh. Yeah that would work. I guess.”

“That’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” you mumbled and turned to walk towards the door.

As you heard him leave behind you, you suddenly remembered you hadn’t said goodbye, or thanked him. You felt your cheeks heat. You were supposed to thank someone for helping. You messed up again. Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you would make sure to thank him then. Maybe he wouldn’t think you rude anymore. And maybe you should find some questions to ask him about. So he didn’t ask you weird ones when there was silence.

You hung up your coat at the door, suddenly smelling a nice scent coming off it.

The fabric had absorbed some of his that lingered in the car. You sniffed carefully and then reared back in shame. It was kind of improper to just smell someone. You only did that to someone you knew better. Like family, or…or a suitor.

Still, the scent lingered in your nose as you walked away, and it was pleasant enough for you to feel a little lighter for the rest of the evening.

Part 2

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

prev post inspired by reading brandon taylor's filthy animals, which is, like, fine i guess, which is kind of simultaneously not surprising bc i've never read a collection of allegedly well observed stories focused on the minutiae of human interaction that i actually liked and also disappointing because i like his writing in his newsletter so much lol. (and to be fair i also really liked his story "prophets" which is not in the collection.) and actually for the most part the dialogue feels more or less human which stood out to me because of how much i fuckin hated severance (novel, not currently buzzy apple TV show i have also complained about lmao). but then you get an exchange like this:

"I do like him," Sophie said after a moment, and it startled Charles.

"How? You don't know him. I don't know him."

"There's something good and wounded about him. Like you."

and it just instantly pings my bullshit-dar. i'm like, she would not fucking say that, where "she" is "any human ever to live, ever." and for whatever reason when it comes to this kind of thing (literary short stories invested in the minutiae of human interaction) my instinct is then to be like, well i guess i am a dummy. i guess i am being stupid and unfair to read this and be like, girl what? and maybe i am, i don't know. maybe when on the next page charles says "So I cleaned it, swept the glass, you know? And it was the weirdest thing. I don't think I've ever seen a person more exposed." i am also being stupid to be like, you've never seen a what? what? who talks like this? i don't know. a lot of people love this writing, according to goodreads, which as we all know is an unfiltered and objective accounting of human opinion. maybe lots of people talk like this and i just happen not to know any of them. or maybe, again, i'm totally missing the point of literary fiction and there's some kind of reason i'm just not sophisticated enough to understand for why you would write texts as naturalistically as "u there?" and also have this emotionally repressed dancer say "i don't think i've ever seen a person more exposed" like that is a normal, not weird thing to say, a thing that would just come out of your mouth naturally. like obviously i am not so stupid as to believe literary dialogue ever actually is "naturalistic" or should be... but perhaps i am barking up the wrong tree if i want it to convincing? if i want my disbelief to be suspended?

(tw in the next paragraph for suicide & ED stuff discussed in the book)

the thing that compelled me to post mid-book comes from a story later on that also concerns these characters (sophie, charles, and lionel, who is the "him" they have met the previous night and that charles has slept with and sophie is... befriending? ish?) lionel is the POV character in the first story, and i liked that one actually partly because it's about a guy trying to have a normal time at a campus party at the school where he is proctoring while on leave of absence which he has been taking since his suicide attempt last year. none of these exact biographical particulars apply to me but the general vibe has some overlap with my college years for sure lol and so i was like, well true. anyway. so in a later story we're back with lionel and sophie is like, are you with someone, and he said no, god no, and she asks why not, and he............. rolls up his sleeve to show his suicide attempt scars? and she asks what happened and he tells her, and then he gives this little monologue essentially describing what it's like to be depressed which is fine and they talk about that and his recent self-hospitalization, and then she's like... ok i'm actually going to type this one out too:

"My parents died. And then my sister, a few years ago, died. Overdose. And sometimes, I think, Fuck. Enough. Or sometimes, it's like, Why not make it a full set?"

"Yeah," he said.

"I used to purge. Everybody thinks it's about being skinny and being light for ballet. They think it's to look a certain way. But I think most of us purge because of the control. Like, there's a moment when you go from feeling full and awful to feeling clean and clear and bright. There's just a moment, right before you get it all out, before you're burning up and convulsing, when you feel something go ping and you know it'll be all right. Thats what it's about. That little ping of clarity. Anyway, I used to purge. When I lived with my grandma. All the other girls in ballet did, too. It's not special or anything, but I did. And then I got these awful ulcers. And I couldn't dance because I had no energy and my vision started to get weird? I felt like my body was betraying me."

Lionel sat up then. Sophie's thumb traced his knuckles.

"Then my sister died, and I thought, I can keep doing this or I can try to fucking live. Really live. Dance is awful, don't get me wrong--if your foot is too big or your shoulder doesn't bend a certain way. There are fewer than zero jobs. And everyone is on coke or a serial rapist. But when I'm dancing, sometimes, I feel that little ping. I know where I am in the world. I can feel myself. And, like, yeah, my technique is not classical. Come on. I learned to dance in Arkansas. But as long as I can dance, I'll be okay. I don't need ABT. Or Royal Ballet or anything. I just want to dance for as long as I can."

"It's your something," Lionel said.

"Everybody deserves a something, right?"

Lionel nodded, and Sophie blotted the corners of her eyes with a sleeve.

and i........ uh.............. fucking hated this lol??? i fucking hated this entire scene. like it really activated my "oh fuck OFF" instinct." and i hated it in a way that felt unusual and unexpected because i think of my problem with literary fiction, when i have a problem with literary fiction, is that it is too, like, withholding or afraid of emotion or afraid of seeming sentimental or whatever, but this..... is....... fucking sentimental. this feels really actually quite fucking cheap to me? i DON'T UNDERSTAND why this collection of short stories is giving me an EATING DISORDERS 101 POST FROM HEALTHLINE.COM???? like i... ok. not everyone in the world has spent as many hours of their lives reading about eating disorders as i have "lol." but this literally feels like Very Special Episode dialogue. including the part where the connection between these two people feels too easy. which, again, up this point i was like, well this is just a mode of developing relationships i don't understand because of my intellectual deficiencies... but now i'm like, actually maybe it's just bullshit, because this degrassi ass monologue is bullshit. the scars thing, also bullshit - bullshit in a specific way i found irritating because, lmao, back when i was drafting a certain wildly self-indulgent fanfiction of mine, there was a period of time in which i entertained the concept of a character dropping the same kind of reveal with the same scar-revealing gesture, and then i opted not to do that, because i was like, "on reflection, this feels like a bullshit." like this feels stupid! it feels actually stupid! hollow and melodramatic and unearned! not, like, not to my taste or too sophisticated for me to get or too subtle for me (an idiot) to be into... and actually not even just "not that good." like this is actively bad, to me. maudlin! distasteful! cliché! cheap!!!

anyway. idk. i guess i was just startled by this because it seemed so obviously self-indulgent and unserious that i was really unprepared to find it in a book by, like, a serious author, that people take seriously. i want there to be a lesson here but i'm not sure that there is one except maybe that i gotta get more comfortable with embracing being a hater even if i'm worried it will make me look dumb. but, like, having a character say out loud, in dialogue, "i know everybody thinks it's about being skinny, but it's actually about control," in a book published in 2021? flowers for spring... groundbreaking....

[xylianasblog]

Big big big ask 👉🏻👈🏻 teehee….. 🤭

So like, what if reader was a scientist that worked alongside Norm and Grace that grew to have a crush on human Jake, she watches as he is ecstatic to go to every lesson he’s getting from Neytiri and reader dies a little on the inside because she believes Jake to have grown feelings for Neytiri….

She doesn’t say anything to him or anyone for that matter, but Grace or Norm (or maybe even Trudy?) can tell that something is bugging reader? (If they have a one on one is up to you? But if not thats okay too!)

Fast forward to reader wearing her mask (since she doesn’t have an avatar) to watch as Jake’s consciousness gets transferred over to his Avatar body and she see’s Neytiri planting soft kisses on his eyelids- but to Neytiri all of this is a show of how close she grew to Jake as friends, nothing more.

Reader has to go have a cry and grows distant from Jake, only for him to come by (kind of in a rush because he didn’t expect to run into her during his Olo’eyktan duties) but ditches his duties to fix her attitude with his 🍆??

‼️Feel free to completely disregard this ask if you’re not up to it, but if you do end up writing it, I thank you and appreciate your hard work! 🤩

More than meets the eye.

Pairings: Jake x FemHuman Reader

Summary: You only saw surface level, never trying to see deeper than what you could.

Warnings: MDNI, mentions of sex, mentions of p in v, creampie, uhh uhh sex?? Like.. Fhsudhsj just.. lemme know if I missed anything 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

A/n: there are probably a lot of grammatical errors and mistakes, it’s not entirely beta read.. sooo i apologize. I worked so supper hard on this because I wanted it to be just right! I really hope you al enjoy this 💕

꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦MDNI꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦

There had been all kinds of different people who came into the avatar program but definitely not one like him.

Jake Sully.

A crippled man who seemed to have it all figured out, well at least a little bit. Seems like most times he was really just winging it, and while some would find that stupid you thought it to be admirable. Mostly due to the fact he seemed to be doing the impossible, plus it was pretty cool that he was able to get a chance to do something this cool.

What you hadn’t expected was to start to fall for the dim-witted marine.

He was simple yet you could see just how hard working and serious he was. The more you got to know him the more you fell for him, however you weren’t the only one to notice. Grace knew and she never pestered you about your feelings, never even pushed but she did seem to hover on occasion.

You were so happy for him, Jake enjoyed being in Pandora. He loved his avatar you knew that getting to use his legs again was a god sent gift for him. Each time he spoke it was of nothing but excitement and admiration for the world and life that Pandora held, however that also meant that his teacher held such a high value for him as well.

When Jake first began his lessons you listened intently to the knowledge that he shared, his experiences, and his time. You loved the radiant look in his eyes, the way they seemed to sparkle with happiness for his new found life. “Today she taught me how to track the animals, and to tell which animal is which by scent.” Jake said and your eyebrows raised, you couldn’t imagine how badly it would make you feel seeing how much he enjoyed his time with his teacher.

Each time was the same he’d show so much enthusiasm, he changed in more ways than one. While his human body was slowly deteriorating his avatar body was prospering. The changes were evident and even you could compete with that, with the life that Neytiri could possibly give him.

The distress you felt was palpable, easy to dismiss but the remnants lingered on your features. That also meant that Grace being the ever observant woman she is noticed the turmoil you seemed to face.

“You haven’t even fucked him and you’re moping around. If you like him why not say something?” Grace sauntered over her lab coat swaying with each step she takes closer to you.

Your eyes widened at the manner of her speaking to you and you couldn’t help but flush. “Grace it’s..” you stumbled over your words, face flushed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Grace scoffed lightly as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Anyone could see how just how much you like that marine, everyone but him apparently.” Grace looked over your face intently and for a moment she was quiet. “Just speak to him. You won’t know unless you use your words. You’re smart you’ll figure it out.” With one last pat to your shoulder Grace walked away leaving you to your thoughts.

It had been a few weeks since your talk with Grace. Her words playing over in your head, her encouragement yet truth, and while you wanted to let Jake know how you felt you saw just how much he longed to be in his other body. His better body.

As his human body deteriorated you watched as his avatar body became his hold, the way he prospered in the world of Pandora. Instead of interfering you distanced yourself, putting Jake in the deepest depths of your mind. This should have been easy you couldn’t be hurt anymore or bothered by thoughts of him and Neytiri.

You were sure your suspicions were true the moment he transferred bodies for good. The kiss Neytiri bestowed upon his eyes seemed more intimate than anything, and the pain itself was deeper than you were prepared for.

The once dull aches that faded now felt like stabbing pains against your chest. Each time one faded a new one took its place, the cycle continued over and over and the distance grew greater. You were certain that you were depressed, all motivation for things you once loved gone, they no longer brought you the joy and comfort. It was easy to forget the pain but now it all seemed like a waste of time the ache never really seemed to fade anymore.

Once Jake really took part in his role as the clan chief the crippling feeling of sadness was never ending, it always seemed to linger larger the ache harder. Neytiri was by his side proudly whenever you’d visit the clan. Deep longing had now settled within your aching heart, you wanted him first, you had liked him first.. but you stayed silent on your own, never speaking your words of love.

You made sure to avoid Jake like the plague always turning and leaving or making up excuses so you both never crossed paths. You knew Neytiri wasn’t fond of humans and you wish to not get on her bad side. You always managed to get luckily in avoiding him until today.

The one time you weren’t quite aware of your surrounding you vaguely heard your named being called, your brows rose in surprise as you looked up to see Jake coming your way, his famous smirk settled nicely in his lips. Without much thought you dropped everything you had and turned to walk away. That meant you weren’t to focused in your surroundings while you tried to make your escape, you always didn’t think about the the fact that since he was taller than you he could easily catch up to your small frame.

You stiffened the moment you felt his large hands wrap around your waist, his hold firm yet gentle. He didn’t turn you around and you didn’t dare make any moves. It was silent, just the sound of your breathing and his, slow and steady.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you since after the war. Why have you been avoiding me?” You could tell by his tone that he was serious, he wanted to know, needed to know. You hesitated maybe a bit too long because without warning he picked your body up, hoisting you up over his shoulder as he began walking deeper into the forest.

You watched the way his tailed swayed idly with each steady step he took. “Jake..” you began only to be shut up by a slap to the ass, the resounding ‘CLAP’ had your yelping. “Shut up, Y/n” there it was again the firm tone you couldn’t help but sigh as you stayed quiet. Each step he took had your mind racing yet you still trusted this Navi male with your life.

After a moment he came to a stop, his free hand resting on your thigh before slowly gliding up until his hand covered your ass. “You’ve been avoiding me and don’t lie and say it’s because you’ve been busy, you haven’t.”

Jake set you down your feet sinking into the soft moss on the ground, your toes digging into the ground beneath you as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers. Feet shuffling as you worked up the courage “Well.. you’re mated with Neytiri so I thought it was better to keep my distance.. especially..” you mumbled just loud enough for Jake to hear.

Jake’s ears perked up and his eyebrows raised in confusion, his head tilted slightly to the side. “Me and Neytiri aren’t mated. She’s with Tsu’tey.” You looked up at him just as he crouched down, though he wasn’t entirely at your level it was less strain on your neck. “Why did you think that instead of asking me?”

At this moment you didn’t answer instead you looked away to hide your embarrassment, the slight flush of your cheeks had Jake smiling. “It doesn’t matter, you two always looked so cozy.. umm.. besides you two seemed really..” your words were cut off by a soft gasp that left your lips just as Jake’s lips covered yours.

One of his hands moved to hold your face still as his other gently began to rub and caress your body. He deepened the kiss just a bit before trailing kisses from your lips to the side of your neck muttering a soft, “silly girl.” He continued to press kisses against your neck as his hand began to knead and rub at your thighs. “Fuck.. you smell so good.” You let out a small moan as his fingers brushed against your covered cunt. “It’s about time that I make up for all the lost time.” There was no way you’d refuse, especially now that you knew he never mated to Neytiri.

Without much else being said between the two of you, clothes went flying, being discarded left and right until you both were naked. Left exploring each other’s bodies. Gentle touches, open mouthed kisses, getting ost in the overwhelming pleasure.

Ignoring the the fact that he had duties to attend Jake focused on ravaging your body, each thrust of his member into your sopping went cunt sent his reeling. He couldn’t get enough, being able to walk was one thing but being able to take you over and over until his hearts content was another.

Once he was satisfied with the use of your body, you lay beneath him body full of and covered in his seed. Your dazed, fucked out expression had him hardening once again, his semi hard length resting against your stomach. “I hope this is a lesson.. ask questions next time, babygirl.”

꒦꒷❀꒷꒦༻❀✿❀༺꒦꒷❀꒷꒦༻❀✿❀༺ ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦

Taglist: @xstarsdiary @etherial-moon-blog @neteyamyawne @torukmaktoskxawng @quicktosimp @anemonelovesfiction @erenjaegerwifee @cardi-bre91 @maniisplxnet @pandoraslxna @rivatar @thepeonysbackup @tallulah477 @eywaite @luvv4j4ybe11

[nthspecialll]

Okay, so I agree with some of these, but others not so much. I am just going to give my thoughts and it is absolutely not any hate to the OP.

Hosea and Dutch have been running together for many many years, about 25, and back when they met Dutch seems to have been the more passive of the two. Hosea admits that he was a very aggressive person, believing he was right in killing and robbing, and being above the law, while Dutch for example was the one who taught Arthur to read. While in 1899 Hosea is trying to keep Dutch back, he was the one who enabled Dutch back when they met, leading him further into a life of crime. That is not to mention that Hosea is eleven years older than Dutch, meaning Hosea was around 31 when they met and Dutch was 20.

OP and anyone else is naturally allowed to dislike Susan, but I think those two situations were a bit too different to compare them like that.

Micah is absolutely disgusting, but you can still like a character despite that and be an okay person. I don't particually like Micah, but I think he is very well written and I think it is interesting how he doesn't quite know if he is okay with the isolation he is in or if he wants to make friends. People can like him without being okay with the things he does, otherwise we would all be condoning murders, because that is what all the gang members are. Similar to how people can like John but be aware he was a shit dead beat dad at first and not condone that.

You thinking Javier is overrated is okay, that is a personal oppinion and you are intitled to that but saying "I just don’t see how people flock to him when we have characters like Charles" is like saying "I just don’t see how people flock to vanilla ice cream when we have ice cream like strawberry." because everyone has different taste and that is okay.

I honestly have not seen anyone hate on Pearson but yeah people need to give him a bit more love and I sure hope he got himself some kids too, especially after that interaction with Mary Beth.

I agree, she wasn't. And calling her a 'bop' is a bit strange, glad I have not seen that.

I don't read a lot of fanfic, so I have not seen a lot of people writing him, but I have heard that it is bad, and if it is then yes.

Yep! Just one example is that recently I have started getting drunk in camp and greeting folk and he says some... things, like saying Abigail should smile some more or that he could mistake Trelawney for a circus monkey, and that is GREET.

I don't ship Bonnie and John either, but people can ship whatever they want, that is part of fandoms, if you don't wanna see it just go into the ship tag and press block. Ships are not meant to make sense, just let people have their fun. Crackships, rarepairs and similar and the backbone of fandoms.

Absolutel love Molly, she really did deserve a lot more.

My red dead hot takes:

1) Vandermatthews sucks. Hosea deserves so much better then to be shipped with that car wreck of a human being.

2) Miss Grimshaw fucking sucks. She didn’t hesitate to shoot Molly but hesitated to shoot Micah and Dutch and never did shoot at him. I didn’t feel bad when she died, I’m sorry.

3) If you like Micah, you give me the ick. The man killed a dog, kicked a four year old, is a rapist and racist who kills for fun, and killed Arthur. I don’t care how much you try and defend him, he’s disgusting.

4) Javier is WAY too overglazed. Like, he’s alright. I just don’t see how people flock to him when we have characters like Charles.

5) Yall need to ease up on Pearson btw, I see some mean stuff about him and it makes me sad. I was so happy when I found out he was running the general store in Rhodes, and was married. He seems like such a girl dad, I hope he had kids.

6) Abigail wasn’t the second rat. Get over it. She was child when she was doing sex work, stop calling her a “bop”

7) Y’all are a bit too comfortable with stereotyping Charles, yes his half Native but that’s not all his personality. Did you not pay attention to his character at all?

8) Arthur isn’t a great man. I love him, SO MUCH. But he’s not a good man. He did good things and believed in good things, but still

9) I don’t like it when people ship John with anyone besides Abigail. They are ment to be in my mind, JohnxJavier makes me roll my eyes and JohnxBonnie makes me wanna gag. She’s 27 and he’s in his early to mid forties in rdr1

10) Molly deserved SO MUCH better. My poor darling girl was just in love, not only did Dutch and the majority of the gang not give a fuck about her, but so did the whole fandom. Luckily I’ve found a bunch of people who adore and defend her.

People play the whole game and sweat up and down that Molly really was the rat when Micah and Milton both admit who the rat was. And I KNOW it’s just it’s some back wash drinking misogynistic cretins that hate on Molly for no real reason.

[haologram]

get to know me! 🍀

i was tagged by many people, but only remember @seungkw1 atm LOL note: if you were tagged and are looking for it, it is likely at the bottom! feel free to scroll past to see what was pinged for you <3

what's the origin of your blog title? i love xu minghao. that's about it <3

favorite fandoms? unfortunately, i have been neckdeep in fandomland since i was a kid, and i've been across many different ones. currently: enhypen, seventeen, stray kids, ateez, got7, monsta x, bangtan...lots of 'em 😭 but i am also into some games, a lot of show fandoms and such.

more under the cut!

otp(s)/shipname? oi vey...i am BALLS deep in jeongcheol land 😔 however, i do love wonchan and i am an avid enjoyer of verkwan. i just like people having fun i guess...if they kiss that's their business and idgaf !! (and you shouldn't either 💘)

favorite color? contrary to the color i've chosen for this tag game, i am a purple fiend. i love purple and i've loved purple since i was 5 years old. borahae, putas.

favorite game? video game wise, stardew valley! everything else...idk, i like jenga. i like...uno. monopoly. i fuck bitches up at monopoly.

song stuck in your head? million years ago by adele, my i by svt junhao, pink pony club by chappell roan

weirdest habit/trait? uhhh i'm not sure! probably that i make a lot of weird little noises for no reason

hobbies? writing, singing, dancing, drawing, makeup, cooking, baking, sewing...i just like making stuff LOL

if you work, what is your profession? i currently work at a pharmacy! but i am also a med student :)

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? a novelist, or a songwriter.

something you're good at? making people laugh

something you're bad at? driving 💀

something you love? music. my faith. my family, the homies. i also love shoes and fashion.

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff? southern barbecue. have done it before, will do it again!

something you hate? i am incapable of hatred (people who refuse to change after issuing bullshit apologies.)

something you collect? photocards but not currently. i also like collecting jewelry and blankets!

something you forget? nothing. i have a very good memory, which is both a blessing and a curse.

what is your love language? i like to recieve & give gifts. however, i am also very fond of quality time and often indulge in parallel play with my friends. physical touch and i are not very good friends but if i am dating someone, it is very important to me.

favorite movie/show? so many! law & order svu, 2 broke girls, bob's burgers. as for movies, i love it, brave, mulan...the list goes on. i love films.

favorite food? anything my mom makes. i am a very finicky eater and i rarely eat at other people's homes.

favorite animal? cows!

are you musical? yes! i come from a very musical father, he loves to sing and dance and i am the same, however it is a very big part of my personality and i love to involve other people in singing with me and such.

what were you like as a child? i wanted to be cool :( i wanted people to like me! but aside from that, i was a very loud kid with introverted interests. i read a lot of books, i used to do speed reading competitions, and i struggled with a lot of things outside of the realm that i am willing to talk about. however, i was also a very anxious child who wanted to be liked and did everything she could to make that happen. as i grew older, i was bullied a bit but there is a lot of dynamics that play into that that i don't really want to get into. but, i wish little me knew she'd grow up to be pretty cool, anyway.

favorite subject at school? art and biology!

least favorite subject? math. i have dyscalculia.

what's your best character trait? funny, honest, confident.

what's your worst character trait? talks too much, anxious, selfish is 50/50.

if you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be? nothing! i'm about to go to bed! :)

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? my grandparents.

rec your fave fanfics (spread the love!): i will never shut up about favorite coworker by @sescoups (I'M SORRY JOSIE I CANNOT SHUT UP ABOUT IT!!) other fics i love and never stop reading over and over: - fake it til you make it by my angel tara @diamonddaze01 - orbit & perspective by my beloved tomogotchi @tomodachiii - hi (i love you) by my sweetest rania @wheeboo - rivers & roads by my dearest @miniseokminnies

tag others to complete (no pressure!): @wonuwoe @heechwe @be-my-sunrise @hanniesbrat @c-oupsie @wooahaeproductions @wqnwoos @bitchlessdino & whoever else wants to do it! say i tagged u <3

[snowball-doie]

✮⋆˙ 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ˙⋆✮

| pairing: johnny x manager!oc

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Tooth-aching fluff.

Aurora wondered if it was too late to jump ship.

After waking up hungover in Yuta's bed with no recollection of how she got there, she wondered how she could’ve possibly said yes to going on a date with Johnny Suh. And how was that the only thing she could remember? Granted, she wasn’t drunk at the time, though she wished she was so she had an excuse to not go… But everyone and their grandmother was talking about how Johnny finally asked out Aurora and she actually said yes to it! Her headache was killing her, but that was not the problem. The problem was Johnny already texting her, asking if she wanted to go out not that night but the following night… for dinner…

“Ah, fuck me,” Aurora groaned, throwing herself back down against the mattress.

Yuta walked into the room, shirtless, a smoothie in one hand while the other was tucked into the waistband of his pajama shorts to keep it warm. Men. Aurora rolled her eyes— She was surrounded by men. Disgusting, run-of-the-mill men.

“Ohaiyo,” he said.

She glared at him. “I blame you.”

“What did I do?”

“I don’t know, but I blame you.”

“Okay, well, while you do that, do you want breakfast?”

“No. I have to figure out what I’m gonna do about this.” She turned her phone to show him her screen, but without his glasses on he couldn’t see anything from such a distance, so while squinting and leaning forward, he approached the bed then took her phone to read Johnny's texts. “I’m going back to sleep and never waking up.”

Yuta scoffed. “I love that you can tell Ten helped him write these.” He handed her phone back. She raised a confused brow. “They went home together last night.” She shrugged. “He was way too drunk to text you a coherent sentence like that.”

“Yuta-kun, please convince me this is all a bad idea.”

“He’s a good guy, and he’s down bad for you, I don’t see the harm in giving him a chance, oneesan.”

She groaned and kicked her feet around like a kid throwing a tantrum. “You’re not helpful!”

Sipping his smoothie, Yuta started walking out of the bedroom again with a final comment about how he was going to cook something for her to eat because they needed to go shopping. Shopping? Why shopping? “Because you’re not going on your first-ever date looking like that,” he replied all the way from the kitchen. What was that supposed to mean!

Yet there they were, at Hyundai mall, Yuta hiding under a million layers of clothes to keep himself warm but also to protect himself from anyone that would recognize him as he chauffeured Aurora around the place. He was a man on a mission, searching for the best stores with the cutest clothes that he thought Johnny would like to see on her. She couldn’t imagine that. She knew Johnny, but not well enough to assume what he’d like on her… But Yuta had known Johnny for nearly a decade, he’d seen various girls come and go out of Johnny's life, and he heard all the praises and complaints Johnny had to give about each of them. He liked neutral tones, apparently. While Aurora was more inclined to wear pink, she wasn’t opposed to the thought of wearing the cream colored sweater and brown sweatpants Yuta made her try on.

“No,” he immediately said once she stepped out of the dressing room.

“Why!”

“It doesn’t fit you right.”

“It fits me just fine.”

“Sure, it fits you, but it doesn’t fit you right.”

Aurora stared at him. “Nihongo.” She crossed her arms and stared at him flatly, almost glaring at him if it weren’t for the fact that he immediately grabbed her wrists to push her hands back down to her sides.

In Japanese, he explained perfectly that Aurora looked best while wearing things that fit her slimly on the top with high waisted pants that were tight around her waist yet bell-bottomed. “You’ve got tits for a reason, show them off. And you’ve got big hips and ass, you don’t want all of that to hide you like a tent in the shirts you wear.”

“It’s too cold outside to wear a crop top,” Aurora argued after she put on the next outfit for him to see. A black crop top with the same brown sweatpants. “I’ll freeze to death before I even make it to his place.”

“Yeah, but you look sexy.”

Aurora rolled her eyes.

Yuta bought the outfit for her as an apology for secretly betting against her and Johnny. After seeing the total at the cash register, Aurora really had no complaints when it came to Yuta tapping his black card against the scanner, because she couldn’t wrap her brain around how a black crop top sweater and brown sweatpants could cost nearly $300 USD. That was why she didn’t shop at Hyundai mall or Lotte World mall, though. Her income didn’t give her many opportunities to even go window shopping at the various luxury stores around Seoul which all of the boys at work always raved over. If she were back in America, she knew that she would have found the same outfit at Walmart or Target for approximately $50 USD— And even then she would’ve considered putting it all back on the racks.

Yuta wanted to spend the day at the mall even after settling on an outfit. Aurora was too worried about being seen, so she convinced him to at least leave the touristy area surrounding the mall so they could instead get lunch somewhere together where they weren’t as likely to run into fans. She was right, of course. No one said a thing as they entered the dak-galbi restaurant and were seated at a table against the wall. No one bothered them as they ordered and ate. The only time anything happened was when the owner came over to deliver their receipt, she asked if Yuta would sign something for her daughter who was a big fan of NCT. With a smile, Yuta nodded before taking a clean paper napkin where he wrote a note and signed his name on it before handing it over to the owner— along with his credit card for the meal. She bowed deeply at the hip while thanking him profusely. “My daughter loves you. Thank you so much.” Yuta shrugged it off with a laugh, “It’s really no problem.”

At a nearby cafe, no one bothered them at all, not even for a signature or to snap a photo from across the room. For a couple of hours, Aurora and Yuta sat across from each other, drinking matcha, talking about work, missing Japan, the new album, when and where they would go on their next vacation, and Aurora’s date with Johnny.

“Do you think you’ll kiss him?” Yuta asked with a smirk.

Aurora rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Not even if he’s a perfect gentleman who walks you all the way to your door after dinner?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Why? You have another bet on that or something?”

Yuta rolled his eyes too. “Fair enough… Are you at least nervous?”

Of course she was fucking nervous! How could he ask such a stupid question when he’d caught her regretting her entire life after waking up hungover in his bed, asking if she could find any way to get out of the whole thing. Aurora had never been out on a proper, official date with anyone, and it was Johnny Suh whom had asked her out, so those two factors mixed together made Aurora’s stomach queasy, and the matcha wasn’t helping, so she got up to order a croissant to help settle herself.

“It’s cute to see the two of you like this,” Yuta admitted after she sat back down.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… Not ‘in love’, but something like that.”

“Yeah, maybe let’s hold off on the L word ‘til after the first date.”

Yuta reached over to pick a bite off of Aurora’s croissant until she smacked his hand away and muttered something about his diet and not wanting to get yelled at by his trainer. Aurora picked the bite off for him then, out of pity, fed it to him.

“So when are you going to ‘not in love, but something like that’ with someone, Yuta-kun? You can’t just always bully me. I need an excuse to tease you too.”

“Maybe if our schedules weren’t so busy I’d be able to go out and meet someone.”

“Ha ha. I’m being serious.”

Yuta shrugged and stretched his arms over his head with a slight groan. Once he settled again, he slumped in his chair. “I promise, oneesan, when I find someone, you’ll be the first to know, then you can get back at me for all of this.”

“Deal.”

Aurora didn’t sleep that night because of her upset stomach. She really had half a mind about texting Johnny to tell him that she didn’t feel well and would have to cancel their date, yet every time she picked up her phone and saw Johnny's excited message that read: “I can’t wait” in response to her confirming their date, she couldn’t bear the thought of flaking on him after all the effort he’d put into catching her attention just to ask her out after getting a little bit of that liquid courage in him. So she remained restless in her bed while counting down the hours until the sun would come up and she’d at least have an excuse to sit at her desk and play video games with Haechan or something until she would have to leave to see Johnny.

In the early hours of the morning, around the time Aurora elected to get ready for a long day of gaming, Johnny texted her while she was showering to ask if she was alright with having the date at his house. Her stomach did another uncomfortable somersault while reading that. Who did he think she was? There was no way he thought that it would be that freaking easy to coax her into his bed! After all that time of Ten and Yuta reassuring her that Johnny wasn’t the playboy guy anymore and was indeed really down bad for Aurora, he was just proving to be a little bit of a fuck boy.

Aurora immediately made it clear that she wasn’t looking to fuck, so if he was inviting her over with that in mind, then he could just forget about it and pretend that the whole thing never happened. However, Johnny insisted that he was only doing it because he had a fun at-home-activity they could do together since it would be hard to go out and be comfortable. If they went somewhere, he would have had to cover up completely, they would’ve had to stay separated from each other so as to not stir rumors if the media saw them, and they would’ve always had to be on their guard about who was around and who was looking at them. It wouldn’t have been fun. He wanted it to be perfect, and by being at home, they could actually hang out and talk honestly. So she decided to give it a shot and go over. Typically she wouldn't have taken someone up on an at-home first date because of all the horror stories she heard— But Aurora had known Johnny long enough, and they had far too many mutual friends for anything bad to happen. She trusted that it would be okay.

It was the first time she had ever been over to his place. When they became close, it was during lockdown, so they never visited each other, and after the pandemic’s peak passed and they returned to work, there just wasn’t any time for Aurora to invite him over to her place or think about stopping by his. Besides, she thought they were friends, but not like that. So when she arrived at his apartment building after taking a train and then a bus, she stopped. There was a gate surrounding the entire property of luxury apartment buildings which prevented just anyone from coming and going, so she had to buzz in using Johnny's apartment number and a code that he gave her via text an hour before she left her own apartment; and once she was inside the building, she felt sick. Did he really make that much money? She knew how much the boys made off of NCT work, but it was never enough to sustain having a place that nice, so it must have been all those side hustles of his, modeling and whatnot.

Aurora checked the apartment’s floor number when she got in the elevator. That couldn’t be right… Right? She pressed the button, but she doubted herself as the doors closed and she began ascending floor by floor, higher up into the air until it stopped and the doors opened. The hallway was nice. Not gross, moldy, decrepit. White and clean, almost like it had been freshly painted even though it hadn’t— But that just went to show the difference between the type of lifestyle Johnny could afford versus Aurora who warily walked down the hallway until she reached Johnny's door.

Was it really, really too late to jump ship?

Before she knew it, Aurora had rang the doorbell and moments later the door opened to reveal Johnny who seemed a bit flustered and out of breath when he saw her. He relaxed and smiled, like his body was telling her, “Oh, it’s just you.” In fact, he practically said it himself when he welcomed her in and said, “I thought you were the caterers. You’re a bit early.”

Aurora blushed as she stood awkwardly in his entryway, unsure of what to do with herself, meanwhile Johnny walked further into his apartment to set up some stuff. “Sorry, I just… I like to be early rather than late. People being late’s a pet peeve of mine.”

He peeked his head around the corner. “I know.”

He flashed a cheeky smile before disappearing again, prompting Aurora to take off her shoes so that she could follow him, but after taking a step forward, she remembered that she should find a place for her jacket and purse to be polite, so she awkwardly settled back in the entryway and stared at the wall of hooks next to her. Johnny had a lot of jackets. Various colors, weights, lengths, and purposes for occasions like going somewhere fancy versus just walking to the office. There was one empty hook in the middle of it all, so Aurora dared herself to just go for it. She peeled off her jacket then hung it up before securing it with her purse hung over top.

“You fine with waiting a few more minutes ‘til the caterers show?” he asked.

Aurora turned the corner to find Johnny in his kitchen, cleaning up the counter space so that there would be room for whatever food he was having brought directly to them. She nodded and shrugged. “Sure.”

After seeing him in his element, which was his home, Aurora found herself relaxing a bit upon realizing that she wasn’t underdressed at all. She worried that Yuta might have accidentally set her up to fail with such a casual outfit for a first date, however Johnny was just as comfortable as she was. He was wearing just a black t-shirt and grey pants— Nothing fancy at all. Yuta made the right call, Aurora would have to remember to thank him later.

But then of course, timing was seemingly on their side as the doorbell rang again, prompting Johnny to jog around Aurora in order to answer it. She continued to linger awkwardly. Wasn’t he supposed to be the lingerer? What was she doing? She felt stupid.

As the caterers entered, Johnny directed them towards the kitchen using Korean before quickly telling Aurora in English that she should make herself comfortable— Which really meant that she was in the way and needed to sit down so that they could work in peace. So she listened, shyly making her way to his couch which she sat on just barely… Lounging entirely felt weird. She would've been even more uncomfortable if she ended up reclining, so she called it good by sitting with just her butt and a bit of her thighs on the cushions, and that was it. Johnny made sure the staff of three people knew what they were doing before he stilled in the middle of the kitchen and glanced in Aurora’s direction with a bright smile that said: “Okay, we’re good.” When he was ready, he joined her on the couch.

“Do I want to ask, or…” Aurora gestured with her eyes in the direction of the kitchen.

Johnny peeked over his shoulder to watch the staff who were platting some finger foods and pouring wine in glasses Johnny had on hand. “You know those, like, mug painting places in the States?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not as popular here, but this company provides private catering and mug painting dates, if that makes sense.”

Well, she was witnessing the set up first hand, so it did indeed make sense. While they sat and ate some snacks that were catered for them, the company set up Johnny's dining room table with all of the paints, brushes, and mugs so that they didn’t have to lift a finger outside of just sitting and painting together. Watching the whole thing, Aurora knew it was an expensive date. Far more than if it had just been the two of them at a restaurant or at a movie theater— Even if he had rented it out completely. But she also understood that he wanted something at home to maintain their privacy, and that doing something like watching a Netflix movie while eating a delivered pizza wasn’t exactly special. Hell, Johnny never really gave her the vibe of “casual dates”. He always came off as the type of guy that would go all in to impress his partner, which she undeniably found appealing…

“Did you find my apartment alright?”

Aurora nodded. “I figured I was in the right place when I was shell shocked by how expensive the building looks.”

Johnny chuckled at her. “Yuta lives in a nice place, too. Same with Taeyong.”

“Yeah, but not like this…” She glanced around his living room one more time to catch a glimpse of the book titles he had on his shelf. “Do you read a lot? Besides manga, I mean.”

“Depends… I’m usually too busy to get invested, and when I do have time to read something, I’d rather spend it on manga you recommend.”

Aurora blushed while still looking away from him, so she spent another minute collecting herself before she settled back in her seat to look at him. “You should get hobbies besides what I think.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Sillyehamnida” one of the employees shyly called from the empty walkway between the kitchen and the living room. Johnny turned to face them. “Everything’s ready.”

Johnny stood and bowed gratefully. “Gamsahabnida.”

They bowed in return, not saying a word, until they scurried to the exit with the other staff members, at which point they all bowed again and told Johnny and Aurora to enjoy themselves. They left as quickly as they had initially appeared. Once the door was shut and locked, Johnny inspected the state of his dining table and kitchen. The dining table had plates for dinner, silverware, and wine glasses set at place settings across from each other, meanwhile the mugs, paintbrushes, and paints with caps screwed on were set to the side for whenever they wanted to paint. As for the kitchen, they’d set up a catering pan across two of the stovetops which were set to low to keep the food warm, and there was a pot of sauce beside it.

“I requested pesto tortellini since I know you like it,” he told her as he sniffed the pesto sauce. Smiling contently, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

She could eat, yeah. She was more concerned with the idea of how he knew he liked pesto tortellini when it was such a niche meal she didn’t have too often because it wasn’t a popular thing in Korea. Actually, she couldn’t remember the last time she had it. Maybe when they were in France a couple of years ago and she wandered into a touristy place with Yuta and Taeyong in search of Italian food… in France…

So while Aurora sat at the dining table, Johnny grabbed their plates to spoon the pasta onto. From her spot at the table, she could see that there was fresh garlic bread and a salad too on the other countertop, so Johnny made sure to get plenty of that for her as well.

“Wine?” she offered.

“Please.”

She opened the bottle of red wine on the table in front of her before pouring half a glass for Johnny first then a little less than half for herself. Curious, she lifted her glass up to her nose to swirl and smell the wine. Expensive. That was her first thought, that it smelled expensive because of the hints of chocolate and cherry aromas which countered the fact that the wine had been aged a long time. Between the smell of pesto, garlic, and wine, Aurora couldn’t help but feel oddly flattered— Or perhaps wooed, if people even used that word anymore.

Johnny served Aurora first to make sure that he’d done everything to her liking before he sat down across from her, at which point he fidgeted with his own plate, wine glass, and all of the paints on the table in order to make sure everything was perfect, just the way he wanted in order to impress her properly. Aurora tried to hide her grin. It really was funny seeing the usually confident and nonchalant Johnny Suh struggle with trying to go above and beyond for silly old Aurora.

They spent the next two hours talking. Honestly, it didn’t even feel like two hours to Aurora, but it had indeed been that long from the moment she entered the apartment. The meal passed quickly because it tasted good and also because the company was enjoyable. Johnny was funny as per usual. He made Aurora laugh with the stupidest jokes imaginable, and he always smiled when he managed to get a laugh out of her even when she tried so hard to keep a straight face in order to not let him think that he was actually funny otherwise it would get to his head. Too late. It was like every other time they had chatted on Discord while playing video games or at work when he was trying to linger, the only difference was that there was a hint of flirting in the way they spoke to each other while under the pretense of being there for a date. Aurora wasn’t quite sure how first dates were supposed to go, but she decided to treat it like she was testing the waters. Did she actually like Johnny like… that? Yes. Did they have chemistry? Absolutely. Could she bear the thought of going on a second date with someone who had the same humor as the ahjussis? If that was part of the package deal that came with Johnny Suh, then alright.

In the two hours that they talked, Johnny moved their dinner plates to the counter top to make space for them to paint their mugs. Aurora was honestly the worst when it came to things like that. All of her creativity flew out the window any time she had a paintbrush in front of her, so she spent the first few minutes sipping her wine while waiting to see what Johnny would do. Much to her surprise, he went for the pink first. Knowing him and reflecting on what Yuta said about Johnny's favorite colors, pink was the last thing she expected him to do to paint his mug. He didn’t say anything to tease the look on her face as he painted. He just continued on with the conversation like nothing was amiss… So she took a paintbrush and dipped into the green to draw some drop vines from the lip of the mug.

“One of these days I want to take my mom to South America or something. She doesn’t get many opportunities to travel the world like we do, but I really think she would enjoy it, you know? She likes food, and she likes to sight see. It’s not really my thing… But I like doing those things with her because it makes me appreciate the little things in life.”

“Like what?” Aurora asked as she washed her brush.

“Going to random restaurants in the middle of a new city and sitting there, people-watching. No matter where you are in the world, people are always going to be people. Adults running to meetings that they’re late for. Families playing with their kids who are discovering things for the first time. Couples falling in love. Old people feeding birds.” Johnny laughed to himself. “I get to see all of that while getting to appreciate the fact that I’m privileged enough to take my mom to see those things in different corners of the world.”

“Is this your way of telling me to put Brazil on the next tour?”

“Chile, too.”

“Oh, yes, can’t forget Chile.” Aurora also chuckled quietly before putting all of her focus into painting a black cat beside the handle of the mug.

Johnny looked up briefly to ask her, “Is there anywhere in the world you’re dying to go to?”

Aurora took a moment to consider while still silently painting. She’d been to plenty of places ever since she started working with NCT 127. They’d been all over the United States— As if she hadn’t already done that while growing up— They went to Central America, a city or two in Argentina, and they bounced around Europe so much that Aurora could never remember which city they were in every morning when she woke up during press tours.

“The Maldives… If I win the lottery some day…”

Johnny cleaned his brush then set it to the side to indicate that he was finished. “I don’t know if you could convince the execs to put on a show there.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

They both laughed.

“If you win the lottery, would you take Yuta with you?” he questioned.

Aurora put her paintbrush down too and spun her mug slowly to make sure there wasn’t anything she needed to fix or add. “Depends.”

“On?”

“If there’s someone who also likes to people watch who’d want to go with me.”

To that, Johnny didn’t say anything, but he bit his lip to stop himself from grinning as Aurora peeked up at him through her lashes.

“Alright, let’s see the Mona Lisa’s competition,” Aurora said. Johnny immediately scooped his mug up and hid it under the table. “What—” She leaned down to look, but Johnny lifted it back up over the table. She sat up again. “John—” He hid it under the table a second time. Aurora squinted at him, “Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s for you.”

“That’s not fair!” she protested.

He whined back at her, “Why not?”

“‘Cause I made mine for you too, but I was gonna show you.”

Johnny laughed. “It’s cute,” he said, gesturing to her mug. “I like it.”

She’d painted a mug which she figured fit his minimalist aesthetic yet had details of how she viewed him. The green vines were pretty on brand for Johnny, but the small sunflowers that hung from them were just her way of reminding him how nice his tattoo was, and the black cat trying to climb onto the handle was playful and cute like he was. She liked the idea of him being the black cat because he really wasn’t anything like that— Sure, he could be quiet and mischievous. Sure, he could get grumpy like that. However, Aurora thought he was just cute like those cats that tried to act tough until they inevitably gave in and cuddled up with their owner. The hope was to design something cute enough that Johnny wouldn’t want to hide it in the back of his cabinet, which was why she wanted to show it off to him with the intent to get a live-reaction so that she could change something last second if he didn’t like it, yet he was being that mischievous black cat again by refusing to let her see the mug he’d secretly made for her. No wonder he went for the pink first!

“So then show me the one you made for me—” She tried to sneak a peek under the table again, but Johnny continued to elude her. She huffed. “If it’s for me, I’ll see it eventually.”

“Yeah, when it’s glazed and everything.”

“You’re difficult.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

When they were done painting their mugs and drinking their wine, the caterers returned to take them so that they could be put into the kiln at their office; and once they were glazed and fired, they would be delivered back to Johnny directly so that he didn’t have to be inconvenienced by picking them up from their office. It was a good business plan. Aurora could tell why they charged so much and why the celebrities were jumping at every chance they could get to hire them.

Against expectations, Johnny invited Aurora to stay a little longer by joining him on the couch to talk some more while drinking the little bit of wine he had left in his fridge. Just talking! That was what he insisted. So she decided to stay until she at least felt tipsy enough that maybe the thought of kissing him was overwhelming.

“You did not!” he exclaimed through a loud laugh.

“Shut up! It’s embarrassing as it is without you making fun of me!”

Johnny held his stomach as he laughed so hard it hurt. “After all… After all this time… I thought you’d never done anything embarrassing in your entire life—” He nearly toppled off the couch.

“Says the one who does some stupid shit on live TV every week.”

“Yeah, but I never threw a tantrum at five years old and hit my head against the floor on purpose to make a point!”

Aurora rolled her eyes and leaned back against the arm of the couch. “I never should’ve told you that story.”

“I’ll make it up to you by telling you something embarrassing about me, you just gotta prompt me.”

“Prompt you?”

“Yeah, like what do you want to know about me?”

Without an ounce of hesitancy, she finally decided to bite the bullet by asking him what had been on her mind for months.

“So how come you’ve been so adamant about keeping your hair long and blonde these days? I thought you liked it short so you fit in more.”

Johnny picked up his glass of wine. “‘Cause you like it.”

So there it was, the answer Aurora and her friends had anticipated for months yet were too scared to poke at. Honestly, she was surprised that Johnny would even admit to it in the first place. Didn’t he have any shame? Surely it was somewhat embarrassing to tell her that he spent months and months growing his hair out and dying it just so that he could get her attention because he was really just waiting for the perfect moment to ask her out… But no. Johnny wore it like a badge of pride, which was also understandable considering his plan worked.

“But do you like it?”

He smiled. “I do. It’s not what I’m used to, but the compliments are nice, and it’s something for me to take care of rather than just waking up and mindlessly running a comb through it before racing to work.” He drank. “I think this has been my favorite era so far, just between the group I’m with, the song, the dance, and actually getting to participate more— Thank you for that, by the way—”

Aurora blushed.

“The hair just makes it perfect, in my opinion.” He finished his glass then set it down without bothering to refill it. “That’s not embarrassing, though.”

She didn’t find humor in embarrassing him, however, regardless of the fact that he was being a good sport about it in order to ease her mind about oversharing stories from her childhood. When she didn’t give into his lead-on, Johnny decided to just go for it himself.

“I got one. When I was ten, and I was still in America, I was sleeping over at my friend’s house for a weekend so we could go to this Star Wars marathon at the local movie theater, and in the middle of the night, I woke up because I felt, like, oddly wet, you know? So when I sat up, I saw that my friend’s cat had been on my chest, peeing all over me—”

Aurora stifled a laugh.

“He dug his claws into my shirt when I tried to push him off! And he just kept going! Like, come on, man, take me to dinner first or something!”

Aurora couldn’t hold back any more. Through her laughter, she told him, “That’s way worse than my story.”

“Maybe,” he replied with a satisfied grin, “but it made you laugh.”

Without really thinking anything of it in the moment, Aurora reached out to push his shoulder to say, Shut up, but she quickly remembered in the moments following that she wasn’t with Yuta or Taeyong, and she wasn’t sitting on Johnny's couch as his friend but as his date. Suddenly she was embarrassed all over again. However, Johnny didn’t make note of it or even tease her further, he just navigated the topic easily onto the next question in order to see what else he could learn about Aurora. She said he hardly knew her, right? Well, what was a date if not the opportunity to learn everything about her?

Johnny was the first to say something when he noticed that Aurora was getting tired yet was too shy to interrupt the flow of their conversation. He checked the clock on his living room mantle, then double checked his watch, and once he’d concluded it was late enough, he asked Aurora how she was planning on getting home. She shrugged and said the same way she arrived: public transportation. When he laughed at that and pulled out his phone, Aurora was mildly confused all the way up until the point where he admitted he called a taxi for her and that it would be outside of his building in the next seven minutes, giving them plenty of time to wrap up their evening properly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she insisted, feeling guilty.

“There’s no way I can let you go home on the bus in this weather and this late at night. I invited you over, I should be responsible for seeing you home safely, even if I can’t go with you.”

Aurora knew there was no argument she could make against that, so she simply smiled and thanked him with a slight bow of her head.

“I’ll see you out.”

They stood in unison, Aurora heading to the coat hangers to retrieve her winter coat and purse. Johnny didn’t grab anything to keep himself warm. However, he made sure to step around her to open the door wide enough for both of them to step out, his arm above her head while his grip didn’t waver. It was perhaps the first time she ever truly noticed how tall he was, at least in comparison to her and within the context of being on a date with him. On their walk to the elevator, Aurora realized why Johnny didn’t bundle up. She had to go down alone because they couldn’t be seen together, so he at least saw her to the elevator like a gentleman.

“Listen, I, uh…” He grinned to hide his shyness. “Thanks for coming over… For, uh, giving me a chance.”

“Well, all-rounder, it was impossible to not give you a chance after you spent so long drooling over me.”

“I wouldn’t call it drooling.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

They laughed together. He looked really happy that night, more so than she’d ever seen him, which made her smile never waver. That smile of his only wavered when the elevator dinged and Aurora stepped in, signaling the end of their night together.

“Next time, you should come visit my place,” she told him.

Johnny's face brightened up at the fact that she proposed there would be a next time. He nodded eagerly. “I’d like that.”

The elevator doors began closing. “See you tomorrow, all-arounder.” Before he could think to reply, Aurora was on her way down.

taglist: @tiredlittlevirgo , @henderysposts , @trash-number-one , @mystverse , @strawberryax0lotl , @hisunflower , @alili-milidoy , @junrenjun , @slayhaechan

[sturniolo04]

heyy i love your fics! i was wondering if you could write a dad matt fic where like his daughter gets their first period when her moms away on a work trip or smt and he’s panicking and has to deal with it. idk, their period cramp stimulator vid got me thinking, it was really funny. tyy

Girl dad!Husband!matt x girlmom!wife!reader

Dividers: @issysh3ll and @mintsturniolo

A/n: ofc I absolutely loved this request I put a slight spin on the work trip part and related some similar experiences I have had with my on time of the month but I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did writing it! Remember if you want me to write a request for you leave it in my inbox! Also, If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, its up to you :)-Charli

It was only a matter of time before your daughter, lily, hit that puberty point in a young girls life, her period, and you as a mom had always hoped you would be there to help her through her first one. Although because of your demanding career you had at the hospital you were gone for most of the day and often times come home early the next morning, like 2 in the morning early .

Today being one of the days you were at the hospital all day seeing patients and wouldn’t be home until hopefully midnight that night which leaves lily and your husband Matt to their own devices for the day.

“Hey lily bug”

Matt greets his daughter coming into her room curled up in a tight ball on her bed which raises concern immediately.

“What’s wrong are you okay”

Matt questions his 14 year old daughter quickly coming over and sitting on her bed next to her.

“My stomach is really hurting and I don’t know why dad”

Lily whines and groans out the cramps were setting in and of course she didn’t know that’s what they were.

“What does it feel like’

Matt questions trying to understand what he could do to alleviate her stomach pain.

“I don’t know it’s just hurting really really bad’

She huffs out trying not to cry. You hoped that lily wouldn’t inherit your severe cramps like you have when it is your time of the month but that might not be the case and Matt knew how to handle your cramps but that was simply because he was paying attention because he was dating you and married you but it was different when it was his daughter.

“I’m sorry sweetheart maybe try going to the bathroom”

Matt suggests not thinking too much of it as she listens making her way to the bathroom connected to her room. Matt heads downstairs sending you a quick text saying that lily wasn’t feeling too good today and that they would be home mostly all day. He immediately was startled when he heard lily scream for him.

“DADD’

lily exclaims from upstairs. Matt immediately runs upstairs to see what was wrong.

“It’s not the normal color”

She exclaims showing him what appeared to be a toliet paper with a shade of deep red on it.

“Oh my god okay calm down first go throw that away an-“

Matt states simply a little disgusted he witnessed that but quickly got cut off when lily crumbles to the floor sobbing seeing the cramps were starting to hurt more and more.

“Ah I don’t know what to do dad it still hurts”

She sobs out honestly laying in a ball on the floor.

“Uh okay hold on I know let me call mom”

Matt panicks out picking up his phone dialing your number.

“Hello”

He hears you finally speak on the other end of the line.

“Um hey babe so your daughter started her period and she’s freaking out and I don’t know what to do’

Matt rushes out to you in the phone running a panicked hand through his fluffy hair. Of course of all days it happens when you are at work

“Ok um ask her how bad does the cramps hurt from a scale of 1-10 10 being the worst”

You instruct. Mattt immediately following your instruction sits on the floor next to his daughter sobbing uncontrollably.

“Hey lil moms asking on a scale of 1-10 how bad it hurts’

Matt asks his daughter softly combing his fingers through her hair.

“A 11”

She sobs out looking up at matt with tears streaming down her cheeks.

‘She says 11 babe”

Matt replies to you in the phone. You couldn’t help but think of what matt could do to make her more comfortable, knowing the first day is always the worse for girls.

“Okay maybe grab my heating pack and place it on her stomach and see if that helps I know it helps me also make sure you grab some of my tampons for her to use throughout the day’

You suggest before hanging up the call because you were about to go into an appointment as matt quickly gets up to go into your guys master bed room to get just that. He brought it back plugging it up and laying it across his daughter stomach.

“Here leave this here and see if that works sweetheart”

Matt states softly sitting back down on the carpeted floor lifting lily’s head onto his lap as her sobbing starts to slow down feeling the heat on her stomach begin soothe the aching.

What felt like an hour passed by and it appeared that the heating pack was working and that she was able to go back to sleep for a nap but it wasn’t until Matt noticed her face and how it looked like she was trying not to throw up. Although this puzzled Matt because you didn’t throw up or get nauseous when it was your time of month or maybe you did and never told him that could potentially be a factor. Matt shook it off continuing to rest his eyes while he ran his hand through lily’s messy brunette hair.

“Dad-“

Lily softly speak out continuously swallowing not wanting to give into the nauseous feeling just yet.

“I don’t feel so good I feel like I’m going to puke”

Lily chokes out slowly sitting up from Matt’s lap. Matt didn’t know how to respond to his daughter because he never had to encounter this part of a girl’s cycle.. ever. Lily quickly standing up running to the restroom leaning over the toilet gasping preparing her body for the worse because she could feel the nauseous heat rising through her body.

“Oh goodness it’s okay lily bug”

Matt coos as he stands behind her leaning figure pulling her hair out of the way and grabbing the hair tie he always kept on his wrist to tie her hair into a ponytail, a skill he got really good at during your pregnancy with lily when the morning sickness was bad. He always made a habit of keeping hair ties on his wrist for both you and his daughter because you two were always loosing them collectively around the house which lead him to always picking them up and keeping them on him so, whenever you two asked for one, he had them ready knowing it was probably one that you two ended up loosing.

“Dad I-I’m scared”

Lily sobs out as she is still leaning over the toilet almost like she was holding herself back from spilling everything into the toliet. That’s the one thing you both knew about lily, throwing up was something she had an irrational fear of, seeing it, and most importantly when she herself had to do it, terrified her.

“It’s okay just let it out you probably will feel better if you do sweetheart”

He coos out to her and as if on cue lily spills everything in her stomach into the toliet bowl. Matt felt bad that he couldn’t do anything more to help her feel any better. Once she finished, her face appeared pale and colorless, she was really going through it.

It was about 11pm and the whole day it was an off and on struggle of throwing up and cramps, but eventually the nausea did die down to be able to allow lily to fall asleep on the couch. The house was a mess and it just occurred to Matt that she hadn’t been able to eat anything all day because of the nausea and throwing up. Matt lets out a quiet sigh seeing he and lily were on the couch with her head in his lap fast asleep. You finally walk through the door gazing immediately over to the couch to see the exhausted pair.

“Hi”

You quietly greet Matt since he was still awake, leaning over the couch to place a sweet kiss to his lips. Matt hums a greeting to you.

“How is she how’d she do”

You ask sitting down carefully next to Matt on the couch beginning to carefully tread your fingers softly through your daughters brunette hair that she definitely got from Matt color wise.

“It was a struggle but we made it through’

Matt sighs out as he places his free hand on your thighs you currently had tucked next to your body on the couch.

“I meant to text you and let you know that she was throwing up like off and on for the past four hours it was almost like a consistent schedule it was weird so she hasn’t eaten at all today yet because of it”

Matt huffs out leaning his head against the couch head rest.

“No my poor girl”

You sigh out. Lily slowly moves around slightly waking up but not fully yet.

“Is that normal”

Matt asks curious. You look at him with a confused face.

“Is what normal”

You question as you begin to take your free hand and run it through Matt’s messy curls.

“The throwing up like do you have that everytime you are on your period”

Matt asks as you quietly giggle. That was the part of your period you always concealed from Matt because it was simply gross.

“Um yeah”

You trail off trying not to giggle too loudly to wake up lily. Matt’s jaw goes slack at your reply.

“So what you throw up when it is your time of the month”

Matt asks gazing into your brown eyes truly perplexed that he was just now finding out this information about you. You let out a soft giggle and nod your head.

“What no way how come you never told me that every time when I came over to your place when we were dating and it was that time of the month you seemed okay to me other than the cramps”

Matt questions out chuckling slightly.

“Because one I didn’t want you to know”

You trail off as Matt chuckles at your serious expression painted on your face.

“And two I would always plan after or around the first day of my period so you never saw the first day because that day is always the worse no matter what your period is like regularly”

You giggle moving your hand caressing your husbands jaw leaning a pressing a sweet kiss to his lips after. You and matt chuckle into the kiss as lily starts stirring awake, sitting up carefully from Matt’s lap.

“Hey lily girl”

You greet her as she finally realizes your presence since she hasn’t seen you all day.

“Hi mom”

She groans out sleep still evident in her voice as she stands up to go over to the other side of the couch to cuddle into your sitting figure.

“I started my period”

She huffs out as you begin to gently rub your ringed palm up and down her arm comfortingly and also leaving a quick kiss to her temple.

“Dad told me how do you feel”

You ask already knowing the answer.

“Terrible they didn’t talk about this in health class at all”

She replies rolling her eyes. You let out a small chuckle.

“I’m hungry”

She sighs out slowly stretching her aching body from being constricted with severe cramps all day.

“Well what do you have a taste for”

You chuckling knowing that the cravings were bound to kick in.

“I don’t know pizza”

She giggles out a little as Matt rolls his eyes.

“Okay yeah that’s your daughter for sure”

Matt laughs out knowing that you always crave the exact same thing after your first day in previous conversations you two have had.

“Let me guess pepperoni and olives”

Matt questions knowing that those are the exact toppings you would ask for which always appalled him. You quickly smack his arm with your free hand as he laughs at the gesture.

“That sounds really good actually”

You daughter chirps out as Matt and you laugh.

“Okay then let me order it then”

Matt chuckles standing up leaving a kiss onto both of your heads and going to go and grab his phone.

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