#I think it’s absolutely a fantastic book though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elikajinnie · 26 days ago

Note

Hi!! Idk if you do actual Hogwarts crossover but Heeseung and Draco Malfoy in the same story would be a dream 🙌💞💞

Just a thought though… haha. I love your work!

I Am Not In Distress - L.H & D.M

a/n: .... i could kiss you.. i LOVE THIS! Thank you for ur support! Hope you enjoy<3

P: Slytherins!Heeseung & Draco Malfoy X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Rivalry, Tension, Teasing, Suggestive Content, Ambigious Ending, they both desperate for you.

Synopsis: Purebloods are bad news—that’s what you always told yourself. Yet here you are, caught between two of them, both determined to have you. And this? It’s far from a friendly rivalry.

now playing: heartless by the weeknd | alejandro by lady gaga | bored by ari abdul

hogwarts au masterlist

You disliked purebloods to an extent—not enough to hate them outright, but just enough to stay clear of most of them. It wasn’t hard to form that opinion, not when so many of them walked around with a superiority complex, like the simple fact of their lineage made them better than everyone else. Half-bloods? Muggleborns? Practically dirt under their expensive shoes.

Most of them were in Slytherin, of course, which only cemented the stereotype further. And while you knew not every Slytherin was like that, it was easier to assume the worst and keep your distance. You didn’t have the patience for their arrogance, their entitled sneers, or the way they always traveled in packs, like a group of sharks smelling blood.

Out of all of them, though, two stood out as the absolute worst in your book. Draco Malfoy and Lee Heeseung.

Both were practically Slytherin royalty, both pureblooded to their cores, and both annoyingly aware of it. Wherever they went, people trailed behind them like lost puppies—giggling, flattering, desperate for their approval. It was sickening. You never gave either of them a second glance, which wasn’t difficult considering they were always too busy basking in their own popularity. And honestly? You thought you’d never have a reason to interact with either of them. Hogwarts was a big school, after all. You could go years without crossing paths in any meaningful way.

Or so you thought.

One stupid dungbomb. That’s all it took. Filch had caught you red-handed, and before you could even think of an excuse, you were marched off to detention, grumbling all the way. Cleaning duty. Fine. You could deal with that.

But what you hadn’t expected—what you couldn’t believe—was that you’d be stuck in the same room with both Draco Malfoy and Lee Heeseung. Just the three of you.

Fantastic.

This was shaping up to be the longest detention of your life.

When they spotted you, their conversation halted mid-sentence. Both Heeseung and Draco turned their heads, their sharp gazes locking onto you like a pair of predators catching sight of their prey. You could feel their eyes tracing over every inch of you, sizing you up, as if your mere presence had somehow interrupted their perfect little world.

It was unnerving.... to say the least. Their stares weren’t casual—they were calculated, assessing, almost intrigued. You shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of your robe as if that would somehow shield you from their scrutiny. Without sparing them another glance, you made your way to the table and began organizing the potion ingredients the way Professor Snape had instructed. If you focused on the task, maybe they’d leave you alone. Maybe you could get through this detention without having to speak to either of them.

But, of course, life wasn’t that kind.

“Well, well,” Heeseung drawled, his voice smooth and just a little too smug for your liking. “Who would’ve thought you’d end up in detention?”

You didn’t look up, keeping your eyes trained on the jars of dried herbs in front of you. “Yeah, real shocking,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he’d take the hint and drop it.

He didn’t.

Draco chimed in next, his tone dripping with his usual snide arrogance. “Didn’t take you for the type. I thought you were supposed to be all proper.” He let out a quiet laugh, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Or did I get that wrong? Maybe you're more suited to being a troublemaker.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay focused on the task at hand. You weren’t about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. “Maybe you should mind your own business,” you said evenly, not even sparing them a glance.

That only seemed to encourage them.

“Oh, don’t get all shy on us now,” Heeseung said, his voice laced with mock amusement. He stepped closer, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty room. “You’re already in detention with us. Might as well make the most of it.”

Draco chuckled at that, his laughter light but tinged with malice. “Exactly. It’s not every day we get to be with someone so... charming.”

The sarcasm in his voice was impossible to miss, and your patience was starting to wear thin. You slammed a jar of powdered asphodel down onto the table a little harder than necessary and finally turned to face them.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing as you glared at them, “but I’m just here to serve my detention and leave. So why don’t you both do the same and stop bothering me?”

For a moment, they both just stared at you, as if surprised you’d actually spoken up. Then, to your irritation, Heeseung’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile.

“Feisty,” he remarked, his tone almost teasing. “I enjoy that.”

Draco smirked as well, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the table. “Careful, Heeseung,” he said, his voice dripping with mock warning. “You might scare her off.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the ingredients with a muttered, “Idiots.”

The three of you carried on with your assigned tasks in silence—at first. If you pretended hard enough, it was almost like you were alone in the room.

But, of course, they couldn’t leave you in peace for too long.

“Is it just me, or does she seem a little too focused on her work?” Heeseung mused aloud, his tone light and deliberately provoking.

Draco snickered. “Overcompensating, maybe? Trying to make up for their little... incident.”

You ignored them, carefully placing a jar of beetle eyes onto the shelf. They were just trying to get a rise out of you. If you didn’t react, they’d get bored and move on.

“Oi,” Heeseung called out after a moment, his voice laced with mock curiosity. “You’re not ignoring us, are you? That’d be rude, don’t you think, Draco?”

“Oh, very rude,�� Draco agreed, feigning an exaggerated gasp. “But then again, I suppose we shouldn’t expect much better. Detention and manners don’t exactly go hand in hand, do they?”

You tightened your grip on the jar in your hand but still refused to look at them. Breathe in. Breathe out. They were just words. Nothing worth wasting your energy on.

“Think she’s mad at us?” Heeseung asked, leaning lazily against a nearby desk, his voice full of mock innocence. “I mean, it’s not like we’re the reason she’s here in detention. Are we?”

Draco chuckled, leaning forward slightly as if to get a better look at you. “Oh, I don’t think she’s mad, Heeseung. I think she’s just too embarrassed to talk to us. Can’t blame her, really.”

This time, you rolled your eyes but kept your mouth shut, stacking a few jars onto the shelf with more force than necessary. You could hear them snickering behind you, clearly pleased with themselves.

“Nothing to say?” Heeseung pressed, stepping closer, his voice taking on a teasing sing-song quality. “Come on, it’s not like we’re that scary. Are we, Draco?”

“Terrifying,” Draco said with a smirk. “Absolutely petrifying.”

You finally turned your head just enough to glare at them over your shoulder. “Do either of you ever shut up?” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Heeseung’s grin widened. “There it is,” he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Knew you couldn’t hold out forever.”

You gritted your teeth, cursing yourself internally for giving them even the smallest reaction. Without another word, you turned back to your work.

“You know,” Draco said, clearly still enjoying himself, “it’s actually impressive how much restraint you’ve got. Most people would’ve cracked by now.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung agreed, his tone dripping with amusement. “But I think we can do better, don’t you?”

Fantastic. They’d taken your response as a challenge.

The rest of detention dragged on painfully, with both Draco and Heeseung continuing their relentless teasing. It was as if they’d made a silent pact to see who could irritate you the most.

Draco started by pretending to inspect your work. He sauntered over, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the ingredients you’d just organized. “Hmm,” he muttered, tapping his chin dramatically. “You’ve mislabeled this one, you know. Wouldn’t want Snape to find out, would you? He’s not exactly forgiving when it comes to incompetence.”

You didn’t even glance at him, your voice flat as you replied, “I didn’t mislabel anything, Malfoy.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, picking up a jar and holding it just out of your reach. “So confident, aren’t you? Let’s see… powdered bicorn horn, is it? Or was it powdered something-else-entirely?”

“That is powdered bicorn horn, genius,” you shot back, snatching the jar from his hand and placing it firmly on the shelf. “Try harder.”

Draco blinked, as though surprised you didn’t falter, but the smirk quickly returned to his face. “Not bad,” he said, a lazy drawl in his voice. “But I wasn’t wrong about Snape, you know. One slip-up, and you’ll be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year.”

“Good thing I don’t make mistakes, then,” you retorted, already turning your back on him.

Draco huffed softly but didn’t push further—for now. Heeseung, however, decided it was his turn.

“You’re pretty quick with comebacks,” Heeseung remarked, his voice smooth as silk. He leaned against the table next to you, watching you carefully. “Must’ve had a lot of practice, huh? Who do you argue with so much? Your friends? Or maybe your professors? Bet they love you.”

You exhaled sharply, doing your best to ignore him. Heeseung’s teasing was less obvious than Draco’s, but it was no less infuriating. He had a way of making everything he said sound like a compliment, even when it clearly wasn’t.

“You know, it’s kind of impressive,” he continued, smirking when you didn’t answer. “I mean, most people would’ve lost their temper by now. You’re… stubborn.” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Or is it pride? Which one is it?”

“Neither,” you muttered, slamming another jar onto the shelf. “It’s called wanting to finish this detention without having to listen to you two.”

“Ah, so you are listening,” Heeseung teased, his grin widening.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to take the bait. If you kept engaging with them, this detention would feel even longer than it already did. You just had to make it through this. Just a little longer.

But they weren’t done yet.

“Do you think she’s always this serious?” Draco asked Heeseung, loud enough for you to hear. “I mean, look at her. Practically fuming. It’s like she’s never heard of having a bit of fun.”

“Probably doesn’t know how to have fun,” Heeseung agreed, shaking his head mockingly. “Sad, really.”

“Very sad,” Draco echoed with a smirk.

It wasn’t until the end of detention that they finally let up, though not without a parting shot.

As you were putting away the last of the ingredients, Heeseung leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “You know, this wasn’t so bad. We should do it again sometime.”

Draco snorted, smirking as he added, “Yeah. Let us know next time you get caught. We’d hate to miss out.”

You shot them both a glare before turning on your heel and leaving the room without another word. Their laughter followed you out, echoing down the corridor.

As frustrating as it had been, you were proud of yourself for not giving them the reaction they’d wanted—at least, not entirely. But as you walked back to your dorm, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking suspicion that this wasn’t the last time they’d try to get under your skin....

Turns out, your guess was absolutely, fucking correct.

The very next day in History of Magic, you settled into your usual seat near the back of the classroom, fully prepared to endure another hour of Professor Binns’ dull droning. Your plan was simple: take notes, avoid eye contact with anyone, and maybe even catch up on some homework if Binns got too repetitive. Easy.

Or so you thought.

The first sign that your day was about to spiral downward was the sound of a chair scraping obnoxiously close beside you. You looked up, confused, only to see Draco lowering himself gracefully into the seat next to yours, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His smirk was already in place, and you could feel your blood pressure rising.

Before you could even process his sudden and unwelcome appearance, Heeseung dropped into the seat on your other side with the kind of casual arrogance that only someone like him could pull off. He leaned back lazily, his long legs stretching out under the desk as if he owned the entire classroom.

“Morning,” Heeseung said smoothly, as if the two of you were old friends.

Draco didn’t bother with pleasantries, instead glancing at you with a raised eyebrow and a mocking smile.

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting for a moment as you stared at the two boys flanking you. They were both watching you expectantly, like they were waiting for some kind of reaction.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” you hissed, your voice low enough to avoid attracting Binns’ attention.

Draco shrugged, his expression annoyingly smug. “What does it look like? Sitting. Breathing. Existing.”

“Unfortunately for you,” Heeseung added, his lips twitching with amusement.

“Plenty of empty seats,” you snapped, gesturing to the rest of the classroom. “Go exist somewhere else.”

Draco leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the desk as he tilted his head toward you. “Why would we do that when we’ve got you right here?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could respond, Heeseung cut in. “Don’t be so cold. We’re just here to keep you company. You looked a little lonely.”

“Lonely?” you repeated, incredulous. “I was perfectly fine until you two showed up.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, smirking. “Too fine. Can’t have that, can we?”

You groaned quietly, dragging a hand down your face. Of all the people in the school, why did they have to decide you were worth bothering?

Class started, and you tried your best to ignore them, determined to focus on Professor Binns’ lecture. But, of course, neither Draco nor Heeseung had any intention of letting that happen.

Every few minutes, one of them would whisper some snide remark or another, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Do you even understand what Binns is saying?” Draco muttered at one point, leaning closer to you. “Sounds like he’s speaking Mermish, doesn’t it?”

You ignored him, scribbling furiously in your notebook.

“She’s actually taking notes,” Heeseung whispered to Draco, his voice dripping with fake awe. “How noble.”

“Very noble,” Draco agreed. “But, then again, she does have a reputation to uphold. Isn’t that right?”

You gripped your quill tighter, willing yourself to stay calm.

When you didn’t respond, Heeseung leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you really going to keep ignoring us all class? That’s no fun.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give them the satisfaction of looking at them.

Draco, clearly delighted by your silence, smirked and added, “Maybe she’s just shy, Heeseung. You know how it is. Some people get nervous around greatness.”

At that, your quill snapped in half.

The sound was loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby students, but thankfully, Binns remained as oblivious as ever. You let out a slow, frustrated breath, carefully setting the broken quill down before turning to glare at the two of them.

“What do you want?” you hissed, your voice low but venomous.

They exchanged a glance, their smirks widening.

“To keep you entertained,” Heeseung said innocently.

“Consider it a public service,” Draco added with a mock bow of his head.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your notes. “You’re both insufferable.”

“Thanks,” Heeseung said with a grin, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

For the rest of class, they didn’t let up, continuing until you were practically counting down the seconds until the end. By the time class was over, your nerves were completely frayed. Bolting upright, you were determined to escape the classroom and leave Draco and Heeseung behind. But before you could even take two steps, you felt a hand at your waist.

You froze, glancing down to see Heeseung’s arm wrapping itself around you in a way that was far too casual for your liking. His hand rested lightly at your side, as if this was something he did every day.

“What are you doing?” you asked sharply, trying to twist away, but his grip only tightened—gentle, but firm enough to stop you from slipping free.

“Relax,” he said smoothly, his tone far too self-assured. “Just thought I’d help you out. Wouldn’t want you to get lost on your way to class, after all.”

You glared at him, but before you could retort, Draco sauntered up beside you. “Heeseung’s right,” he drawled. “We are all headed to the same place, after all. It would be terribly rude of us not to walk you there.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You tried to step away again, but Heeseung matched your pace effortlessly, keeping his arm firmly around your waist as he steered you toward the door.

“See? She appreciates it,” Heeseung said, ignoring your tone entirely.

Draco chuckled, falling into step on your other side. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t say thank you,” you shot back, glaring at them both.

“Not out loud,” Draco said, his smirk widening. “But I can tell you’re grateful. You just don’t want to admit it.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, deciding that arguing with them would only make things worse. Instead, you focused on walking as quickly as possible, hoping to reach your next class and put some distance between yourself and the two infuriating Slytherins.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have other plans.

As the three of you made your way down the corridor, Heeseung kept his arm firmly in place, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Draco, meanwhile, kept up a steady stream of commentary, most of it designed to annoy you.

“Do you always walk this fast?” Draco asked at one point, easily keeping up with your hurried pace. “Or are you just trying to get away from us?”

“Obviously the second one,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.

Heeseung chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he guided you around a corner. “Aw, don’t be like that. We’re just trying to be friendly.”

“This is what you call ‘friendly’?” you shot back.

“Of course,” Draco said, his smirk never faltering. “You should consider yourself lucky, really. We don’t do this for just anyone.”

“Oh, I feel so special,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“You should,” Heeseung replied, his tone teasing. “Not everyone gets to be escorted to class by the two most charming people in Hogwarts.”

You snorted. “Charming? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Don’t act like you’re not impressed,” Draco said, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time you finally reached the door to your next class, your patience was hanging by a thread. As you tried to step away, Heeseung finally released his hold on your waist, but not before leaning down slightly and murmuring, “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shot him a glare, but before you could respond, Draco spoke up. “Looks like we’re all here,” he said, glancing into the classroom.

You groaned inwardly, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. This was going to be a long day.

You slipped away from them quickly, weaving through the rows of desks until you found a seat at the very front of the class. If there was one place they wouldn’t dare to bother you, it was here—right under the professor’s nose. At least, that’s what you hoped.

You were determined to focus, to shake off whatever bizarre fixation Draco and Heeseung had developed on you since detention.

But, of course, you should have figured it out by now. Once you had their attention—for whatever inexplicable reason—they weren’t going to let up.

You’d barely settled into your seat when you heard the faint scrape of chairs moving directly behind you. Your stomach dropped as you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the two boys taking the seats directly behind yours, looking far too pleased with themselves.

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his arms casually on the edge of your desk. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low so only you could hear, “running away isn’t very polite. We walked you here, after all.”

“Not to mention,” Draco added from your other side, “we were hoping for a nice little chat. But here you are, acting like we’re some kind of nuisance.”

“Because you are,” you hissed under your breath, glaring at them both.

Draco feigned a wounded expression, clutching his chest dramatically. “How cruel. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Keep dreaming, Malfoy,” you muttered, turning back to face the front of the class.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Heeseung said, his tone light and teasing. He poked you lightly with the end of his quill. “We’re just trying to make your day more exciting.”

“By annoying me?” you shot back, swatting his quill away.

“Exactly,” he replied with a grin.

Before you could retort, the professor entered the room, and the class fell into a semblance of quiet. You let out a relieved breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. Surely, they wouldn’t risk drawing attention to themselves now—not with a professor watching.

But you should’ve known better.

Throughout the lecture, you felt the occasional nudge against the back of your chair—Heeseung, no doubt, trying to get your attention. You ignored him. Then there was the faint sound of parchment being crumpled, followed by a soft thud as a tiny ball of paper landed on your desk.

You unfolded it reluctantly, your irritation mounting.

Inside, in Draco’s neat handwriting, was a single line: “Having fun yet?”

You crumpled the paper back up and tossed it over your shoulder without a word, not caring where it landed. You heard Draco chuckle softly behind you, clearly amused by your reaction.

A few minutes later, another paper ball landed on your desk. This time, it was from Heeseung, the writing messier but just as irritating: “You know you can’t keep this up forever, right?”

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. Without looking back, you scribbled a reply on the paper and tossed it over your shoulder.

It wasn’t long before you heard Draco snicker. “Looks like she finally have something to say.”

Heeseung unfolded the paper and read your message, keeping his voice low. “Leave me alone before I hex you both into next week.”

“Hex us?” Draco repeated, his tone dripping with mock disbelief. “How positively violent.”

“Indeed,” Heeseung added with a grin.

By the time class ended, you were practically bolting for the door, hoping to escape before they could follow. But, of course, they were right on your heels, flanking you once again as you stepped into the hallway.

“See?” Draco said, falling into step beside you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I barely noticed you were there,” you lied, shooting him a sideways glare.

“Ouch,” Heeseung said, clutching his chest dramatically. “You really know how to hurt a guy, don’t you?”

You quickened your pace, hoping they’d get bored and leave you alone. But as they continued to trail after you, still grinning like they’d won some kind of game.

You were practically weaving through the crowd of students filling the hallways. Surely, they had better things to do than to keep following you like persistent shadows?

Right?

But, of course, they didn’t.

“So,” Heeseung said casually, keeping stride beside you as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “What’s next on your schedule? Care to share?”

“I bet it’s something riveting,” Draco added on your other side, his smirk firmly in place. “Like Herbology or... Divination.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to answer.

“Silent treatment again?” Heeseung asked, leaning slightly closer. “You know, that’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

“I didn’t realize you had feelings,” you shot back before you could stop yourself, your frustration finally bubbling to the surface.

Draco let out a bark of laughter, clearly delighted. “There it is! Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever.”

“Careful, Malfoy,” you said sharply, stopping in your tracks to glare at both of them. “If you keep pushing me, you’ll find out exactly how much quieter your life will be with a Silencing Charm.”

“Oh, scary,” Heeseung teased, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes that made you want to hex him right then and there.

Draco, ever the instigator, stepped closer with that same irritating smirk. “Go on, then. Let’s see it. I could use a good laugh before our next class.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Heeseung, clearly enjoying himself, stepped in as if to defuse the tension—though his tone was anything but sincere. “Now, now, let’s not resort to violence. We wouldn’t want anyone to get detention again, would we?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving past them both and continuing down the hallway. “I don’t have time for this,” you muttered under your breath, hoping they’d finally take the hint.

But, they didn’t.

Instead, they followed you all the way to your next class.

“Should we place bets on where she’s sitting this time?” Draco mused aloud as you entered the classroom.

“I’m guessing front and center,” Heeseung replied, trailing after you. “Seems like their style.”

You ignored them completely, choosing a seat near the middle of the room this time.

And the moment you sat down, they flanked you on either side, their presence looming before you could even pull out your notes. Heeseung plopped into the seat on your right, draping one arm casually over the back of your chair, while Draco claimed the seat on your left with his usual air of entitlement.

“Miss us?” Heeseung asked, flashing you an infuriating grin.

“Not even a little,” you replied, your tone flat.

“Liar,” Draco said smoothly, leaning just enough to invade your personal space. “Admit it. You’d be bored out of your mind without us.”

“I was doing just fine before you two started this little... whatever this is,” you shot back, glaring between them.

“‘This little whatever this is’?” Heeseung repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Ouch. You’re really struggling with words today, huh? Must be the company.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the professor walked into the room, signaling the start of class. “Will you two just—”

“Shh,” Draco interrupted, holding a finger to his lips. “Class is starting. Let’s be respectful, shall we?”

You shot him a glare, but he only grinned in response, clearly pleased with himself.

For the next hour, they both continued their antics—soft whispers, poking at your notes, and the occasional “accidental” nudge to your arm. Every time you tried to focus, one of them would find some new way to distract you, and by the end of the lesson, your patience was hanging by a thread.

As soon as the professor dismissed the class, you bolted from your seat, determined to escape before they could follow you again.

But, they were right behind you in an instant.

“So,” Heeseung said as the three of you stepped into the hallway, “what’s next? Lunch? Study session?”

“Or,” Draco added, his smirk widening, “are you finally going to admit that you enjoy our company and stop running away?”

You stopped in your tracks, spinning around to face them both with an exasperated glare. “Why are you two so obsessed with bothering me?”

They exchanged a glance, their smirks never faltering.

“Because it’s fun,” Heeseung said simply, shrugging.

“And because you’re so bad at ignoring us,” Draco added, his tone practically gleeful.

You groaned, turning back around and storming off down the hallway. “You two are unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath.

You were on the verge of snapping, your fists clenched at your sides as Draco and Heeseung trailed after you like determined shadows.

And just when you thought you’d never get a moment of peace, salvation arrived.

“Draco! Heeseung!”

A loud, familiar voice rang out from the end of the corridor. You glanced up to see a group of Slytherins heading toward you. Blaise Zabini was leading the pack, with Pansy Parkinson and a few others following close behind, their expressions curious as they spotted the two boys at your side.

“Oh, great,” you muttered under your breath, praying that this didn’t somehow make things worse.

“Looks like our friends are here,” Heeseung said, his grin widening as Blaise reached them.

“Friends?” Draco drawled, shooting you a quick, smug glance before turning to greet the others. “They’re more like pests.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Blaise retorted with a smirk, crossing his arms as his gaze flickered to you. “And who’s this? Your new... project?”

You bristled at the comment, opening your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Pansy cut in.

“Draco, Heeseung,” she said, her voice dripping with honey, “we’ve been looking for you everywhere. What are you two doing hanging around here?” Her eyes flickered to you briefly, but she didn’t seem all that interested.

Draco waved her off lazily. “Just having some fun.”

“With her?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You decided that was your cue to leave. With their attention now firmly on Draco and Heeseung, you took a slow step backward, careful not to draw attention to yourself.

To your immense relief, neither of them seemed to notice as you slipped away, blending into the crowd of students moving through the hallway.

Once you were out of sight, you quickened your pace, weaving through the corridors until you reached the library.

Finding an empty table near the back, you set your things down and let out a relieved sigh. Finally, some peace.

You pulled out your notes, determined to get some studying done before your next class. For the first time all day, you felt like you could actually breathe without the weight of two smirking Slytherins bearing down on you.

But as you started reviewing your notes, a nagging thought crept into your mind: why had they suddenly decided to fixate on you? And more importantly, how long would it last?

Whatever their reasons, you weren’t going to let them distract you any more than they already had.

Finally, without Draco and Heeseung’s incessant teasing, you could concentrate. The words on the page seemed to make sense again as you worked through your assignments, your quill scratching quietly against the parchment.

You were so immersed in your work that you didn’t notice someone approaching until they were right next to your table.

“Found you,” a familiar voice said, smooth and far too smug.

Your head snapped up, and your heart sank as you saw Draco standing there, his arms crossed.

Behind him, Heeseung strolled in, looking far too pleased with himself as he dropped into the chair across from you. “Nice hiding spot,” he said, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. “Took us a minute to figure out where you’d run off to.”

You stared at them, utterly dumbfounded. “Are you serious? Do you two not have anything better to do?”

“Not really,” Heeseung replied with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious.

“We were bored,” Draco added, sliding into the seat beside you without waiting for an invitation. He propped his chin on his hand, turning to you with an almost lazy smile. “And you’re far more entertaining than whatever Blaise and Pansy were droning on about.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “What do you even want from me?”

Draco leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. “What’s wrong with wanting to spend time with you?”

“Plenty,” you snapped, your tone sharp. “Because I don’t want to spend time with you.”

Heeseung let out a low chuckle, clearly unbothered by your hostility. “See, that’s what makes this fun. Most people fall over themselves to get on our good side. But you?” He gestured to you. “You’re not afraid to tell us off. It’s refreshing.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your notes in the hopes that ignoring them might make them leave. “I don’t care if you find it refreshing. Go bother someone else.”

But, of course, they stayed put.

Draco pulled one of your books closer to him, flipping through it idly. “History of Magic? Boring,” he commented, wrinkling his nose.

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he peered at your notes. “Are you really studying, or are you just pretending so we’ll leave you alone?”

You slapped your hand down over your parchment, glaring at him. “I was studying until you showed up.”

Draco laughed, tossing the book aside. “ Admit it. You’d miss us if we left you alone.”

“I’d celebrate if you left me alone,” you shot back.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Heeseung said, leaning even closer. “You’ll hurt our feelings.”

“I doubt either of you has feelings,” you muttered under your breath, turning your attention back to your notes.

Draco raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”

For the next few minutes, they continued their antics—poking at your books, making sarcastic comments about your notes, and generally being as insufferable as possible.

But then Madam Pince’s sharp voice cut through the air. “If you three can’t keep it down, I’ll have you removed from the library!”

You seized the opportunity, shooting to your feet and gathering your things. “Good idea,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’ll remove myself.”

Before they could say anything, you slipped past them and hurried out of the library, your heart pounding with equal parts irritation and relief.

Another thing you hated about pureblood Slytherins was their egos—massive, sky-high, and unrelenting. It would take a catastrophic event to bring them down a peg. And because of that ego, they always went for things that would feed it, things that would boost their status, power, and sense of superiority. They believed they deserved the best—whether it was fame, wealth, influence, or...

Well, apparently you.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Because here you were, in the middle of yet another detention (this time for hexing a Gryffindor who wouldn’t take no for an answer—big deal), and somehow, somehow, you’d ended up against the wall of the empty Potions classroom.

Kissing Heeseung.

Your brain struggled to catch up with the situation, thoughts running in frantic circles as his lips pressed firmly against yours. It wasn’t soft or hesitant, no—it was confident and teasing, much like the boy himself.

How the hell had it come to this?

Just moments ago, you’d been sitting at your desk, silently fuming as Snape rattled off on a long lecture before leaving you to clean up the mess of spilled potion ingredients. Heeseung, had been there too, lounging in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” he had said, leaning back with an infuriating grin. “Hexing people now? You’re starting to sound like us, you know.”

“Don’t lump me in with you,” you’d snapped, aggressively scrubbing the cauldron in front of you.

“Why not? You’ve got the temper for it,” he’d teased, standing up and sauntering closer.

You’d turned to glare at him, your grip tightening on the rag in your hand. “Say that again, and I’ll hex you next.”

“Oh, scary,” he’d murmured, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Go ahead. Hex me. I dare you.”

And then, before you could even think of a retort, he’d closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours with the same audacity that he carried in everything he did.

Now, here you were, pinned against the cold stone wall, your heart racing and your hands frozen mid-air as he kissed you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your first coherent thought was to push him off, and you did—your palms pressing against his chest as you shoved him back. He stepped away with a smirk, completely unbothered, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Heeseung tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “What does it look like? It’s called kissing.”

“You don’t just—just do that!” you sputtered, your cheeks burning with anger.

“Why not?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” he said smoothly, running a hand through his hair like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down.

“Don’t thank me—it wasn’t a compliment!” you snapped, still trying to wrap your head around what had just happened.

Heeseung laughed softly, stepping closer again—but this time, you pressed your back firmly against the wall, holding up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, your eyes narrowing.

“Relax,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not going to kiss you again.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Because it wouldn’t happen even if you tried.”

“Really?” he asked, as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Because I think you liked it.”

Your jaw dropped, and you opened your mouth to argue—but no words came out.

Because, unfortunately, a very small part of you had liked it.

And from the way Heeseung was looking at you, he knew it too.

That brief moment of hesitation—barely a second—was all Heeseung needed.

Before you could pull yourself together or think of something sharp to say, he closed the distance again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, it was different. It wasn’t rushed or teasing—it was confident, and demanding.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your hands shot up to push him back, but he was faster. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, and with a swift movement, he pinned them above your head against the stone wall.

The shift startled you, and your lips parted to protest, but Heeseung used the moment to deepen the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his body pressed against yours.

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. You hated the way his touch sent a shiver down your spine, hated the way his lips moved against yours like he knew exactly what he was doing.

But most of all, you hated that you weren’t stopping him.

It had been a while—a long while—since you’d let anyone get this close to you. And you couldn’t deny that Heeseung was... handsome. Annoyingly so. And, as much as it pained you to admit, a damn good kisser.

You fought it at first, your pride screaming at you to push him off, to put him back in his place. But the longer the kiss went on, the harder it was to ignore the way your body was betraying you by leaning into his.

Heeseung must’ve felt the shift because his grip on your wrists loosened slightly, as he realized you weren’t resisting anymore.

So, you let yourself indulge, just for a moment. Your lips moved against his, tentative at first, then more certain as you gave in.

His groan deepened, vibrating against your mouth, and the sound sent another shiver down your spine. His hands slid from your wrists, releasing you as his palms settled on your waist instead, pulling you closer.

For a moment, it was easy to forget where you were, easy to ignore the fact that this was Heeseung, an insufferable pureblood Slytherin.

But the moment couldn’t last forever.

The sharp creak of the classroom door opening snapped you out of it like a bucket of cold water.

You shoved Heeseung away, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants as you turned toward the sound. Filch’s scruffy silhouette loomed in the doorway, his squinting eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

“What’s all this noise?” he barked, his voice gravelly and accusing.

Your face burned as you quickly stepped away from Heeseung, who looked frustratingly calm and unbothered, like he hadn’t just kissed you senseless against the wall.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, smoothing down your robes and hoping your flushed face wasn’t too obvious.

Filch grumbled something under his breath before narrowing his eyes at the both of you. “Get back to work,” he snapped, before turning and stomping off down the hallway.

As the door slammed shut behind him, you turned to glare at Heeseung, who was watching you with a satisfied smile, his hair slightly mussed and his lips still pink from the kiss.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed, keeping your voice low just in case Filch was still nearby.

Heeseung shrugged, his smirk only widening. “You didn’t seem to mind it by the end.”

Your face burned again, and you clenched your fists, tempted to hex him on the spot. “Don’t push your luck.”

He stepped closer, leaning down just enough to whisper in your ear. “If that’s how you react when you resist, I can’t wait to see how you act when you’re not trying to fight it.”

Before you could respond—either with words or violence—he was already moving away, leaving you standing there, furious, flustered, and more confused than ever.

Okay, so maybe kissing Heeseung wasn’t that bad. The guy had practically acted desperate for it, like he’d been waiting for that moment forever. And fine, you’d kind of enjoyed it.

But you’d sworn to yourself—repeatedly, in fact—that it would never, ever, in a million, trillion, gazillion years, happen again. You wouldn’t allow it.

…Except, apparently, self-control was harder than you thought.

Because here you were, pressed up against the cold stone wall near the Slytherin common room, Heeseung’s robes fanning out around you as he shielded you from view, his hand gripping the side of your neck while his lips moved hungrily against yours.

Your hands weren’t much better—they had a mind of their own, one gripping his tie and the other clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was reckless. It was stupid. It was everything you’d sworn you wouldn’t let happen again.

And yet, when his thumb brushed the sensitive skin of your jaw and his tongue grazed your lower lip, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Heeseung broke the kiss for just a second, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re terrible at keeping promises to yourself, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and slightly ragged.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite to it, not with the way your chest was heaving and your fingers were still gripping his tie.

Heeseung chuckled softly, leaning down to press another kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw, making your breath hitch.

“This is a bad idea,” you said, even as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“The worst,” he agreed, his voice muffled against your skin.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you added, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

“Then stop me,” he challenged, pulling back just enough to look at you, his smirk creeping back now.

You hated how smug he looked, like he knew you wouldn’t actually do it. And the worst part? He was right.

Instead of pushing him away, you pulled him closer, tugging on his tie and crashing your lips back onto his. His quiet groan vibrated against your mouth as his hand slid down to your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you might change your mind.

But you didn’t.

At least, not until the sound of approaching footsteps made both of you freeze.

Heeseung cursed under his breath, quickly adjusting his robes and stepping back just enough to make it look like nothing had happened. You smoothed down your hair and robes in record time, silently praying that whoever was coming wouldn’t notice how flushed you looked.

A group of Slytherin students rounded the corner, laughing and talking amongst themselves. One of them narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the two of you as he passed.

“What are you doing lurking out here?” he asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.

“Just talking,” Heeseung said smoothly, flashing one of his charming smiles.

The slytherin didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged and kept walking, the rest of the group following him into the common room.

As soon as they were out of sight, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, turning to glare at Heeseung.

“This is why I said it was a bad idea,” you hissed.

Heeseung grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Bad ideas are more fun, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him as you headed down the hallway. “Don’t get used to it, Heeseung. It’s not happening again.”

“Whatever you say,” he called after you, his tone confident. “But you’re terrible at keeping promises, remember?”

You didn’t bother responding, but the heat creeping up your neck told you that, once again, he was probably right.

And he was right… again, and again, and again.

It was infuriating how easily Heeseung managed to worm his way back to you, over and over. At first, it was once a day—a moment between classes or in an empty corridor. Then once became twice, twice became four, and before you knew it... you’d lost count.

It was like he’d memorized your schedule, always managing to find you at the exact moment you were alone. Whether it was slipping into an empty classroom, pulling you into a alcove, or even cornering you in the library when no one else was around, Heeseung always found a way.

And the worst part? You let him.

Every time, you told yourself it would be the last. Every time, you promised you’d shove him away, hex him, or at least say no. But the moment his lips were on yours, his hands gripping your waist or threading through your hair, your resolve crumbled like parchment in a fire.

And it was always him who started it—Heeseung who instigated, Heeseung who sought you out, Heeseung who acted like you were his personal secret to keep.

And you hated yourself for how much you didn’t hate it.

This time, it was in an empty stairwell, tucked away from prying eyes. You barely had time to register his presence before he was there, his hand grabbing yours and pulling you into the shadowed corner.

“Heeseung,” you hissed, but he didn’t give you a chance to protest.

His lips crashed onto yours with the same familiar desperation, one hand curling around the back of your neck while the other slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You gasped into his mouth, fingers curling into his robes before you could stop yourself.

“Missed you,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice low and breathless.

“You saw me two hours ago,” you muttered, but your words were muffled as he kissed you again, stealing away whatever resistance you’d managed to muster.

Two hours, four hours, it didn’t matter. The way he kissed you made it feel like he’d been waiting an eternity.

And it was addictive.

“People are going to notice,” you said between kisses, your hands gripping his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping you upright.

“Let them,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, though you knew he didn’t mean it. Whatever this was between you, it was still a secret. A forbidden, reckless secret that you both somehow managed to keep under wraps.

For now.

But Heeseung didn’t seem to care about the risk. If anything, it only seemed to fuel him.

“Stop overthinking,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw before trailing down your neck. You shivered, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his robes as he pressed a particularly firm kiss just below your ear.

For someone you were supposed to dislike, Heeseung had a way of making you forget all the reasons why this was a bad idea.

You would’ve thought that someone would’ve noticed. With the way things were escalating, it seemed impossible that no one had caught on. But somehow, miraculously, no one did. You figured you and Heeseung would keep this up for a while, maybe until one of you got bored, or until your resistance finally cracked through.

But of course, that didn’t happen.

Instead, what happened was Draco.

It started off like any other day—just another class, just another moment when you were certain you’d get through the day without any major complications. You were walking down the hall, trying to get to the library for a study session when you felt a familiar, irritating presence looming just behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Draco. The smug aura he exuded practically followed him like a cloud.

But then, before you could even make the decision to ignore him, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, a sharp edge to your voice as you yanked your wrist back.

“I think we need to talk,” Draco said, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light you didn’t trust for a second.

You crossed your arms, eyeing him with suspicion. “What, about what? How much of a pain you are?”

“Something like that,” he murmured.

You barely had time to react before Draco closed the gap between you, one hand gripping your shoulder as he pulled you towards him. His lips pressed against yours with a force you hadn’t expected, and your body tensed in shock.

It wasn’t like Heeseung’s kisses, not in the least. Where Heeseung was often teasing, in a way that made you shiver, Draco was… commanding. He kissed you like he thought he had every right to, like there was no room for resistance.

Your first instinct was to push him away, but then you froze. Your body didn’t react the way it had with Heeseung—there was no heat flooding your chest, no rush of excitement. Instead, you were caught between the confusion of why this was happening and the overwhelming sense of deja vu.

Draco pulled back just slightly, looking at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Surprised, aren’t you?”

You blinked, still trying to process what the hell had just happened. “Why would you—”

“Because I can,” Draco interrupted smoothly, his tone all too familiar, like he was enjoying this more than he should.

You scoffed, trying to push him off, but his grip on your shoulder tightened, keeping you locked in place. "You’re insane,” you muttered.

“Yeah," Draco said with a smirk. "But you’ll always remember that i gave you attention.”

And with that, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, dazed and more confused then ever.

Well, this was a lost cause.

You really didn’t know if they had taken something, or if you had somehow been sprayed down by some potion that made them act this way. Or maybe they’d both gone completely mad. Because now, you were stuck in this strange, twisted mess where both Heeseung and Draco seemed to think they had the right to kiss you whenever they felt like it. And worse, you couldn’t resist.

Every time they were near, your resolve crumbled faster than you could rebuild it. One would find you in the hallway, the other in the library, and then it would happen again. Another kiss. Another moment you had no control over.

It was maddening, but also… tempting.

There was a part of you that couldn’t deny it. Sure, you could resist them, keep pushing them away, but what was the fun in that? Attention like this didn’t come regularly at all. Hell, it wasn’t normal for anyone to have two arrogant, handsome Slytherins fighting for their attention. And if you were honest, even just for a second, you kind of liked it.

So why not have a little fun with it?

It wasn’t like you had anything to lose, right? Besides your pride, maybe. But pride was overrated, especially when they were both so good at what they did. And maybe it was the thrill of it all—the secrecy, the danger of getting caught, or maybe the idea that you were wanted by two of the most insufferable, yet undeniably attractive, people at Hogwarts.

You didn’t know. You weren’t even sure you cared anymore.

One evening, you found yourself slipping into a quiet corridor, headed to the library for some much-needed solitude. But, of course, Heeseung was there.

“You’re awfully quick to retreat these days,” he remarked, his voice light, teasing. “Hiding from me?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “Hardly.”

“Then why don’t you stay and chat with me for a bit?” He stepped closer, his eyes scanning you.

Before you could even answer, he’d cupped your face in his hand, pulling you toward him. His lips met yours with an ease that made it feel like nothing had changed. His kiss was soft at first, but the pressure grew quickly, the heat of his touch igniting a familiar spark within you.

And, just like that, the resistance was gone.

A few breaths later, Heeseung pulled back, looking at you with that same, infuriatingly smug smile.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “You like this more than you want to admit.”

You opened your mouth, about to defend yourself, to argue, but before you could form the words, Heeseung leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss.

You didn’t fight it. You didn’t want to.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his robes, the feel of his body against yours sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, Heeseung guided you backward, his lips still on yours as he moved you toward the wall.

When your back hit the stone of the wall, Heeseung broke the kiss just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was hungry, but there was also something tender in the way he watched you.

"See? I knew you’d come around,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts. "Sure, sure," you muttered, but even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

He smiled that smile, the one that made your stomach flip. “Admit it. You like it when I’m like this.”

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve told him to stop, to back off, but all that came out was a small, frustrated sigh as he kissed you again, this time more insistent.

His hand suddenly gripped your thigh, lifting it effortlessly to hitch it around his hip. The movement was quick, and before you could think, you found yourself pressed even closer to him.

You should’ve pulled away, told him this wasn’t you, that you weren’t this person. But instead, you let him.

His mouth left yours for a moment, just for a moment as his lips trailed down your jaw as you gasped for air, your hands moving instinctively to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his robes like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

"You're not pushing me away," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with satisfaction, like he knew exactly what you were feeling. "Might start thinking you want this."

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to admit that he might be right, as he pulled you closer, his hand sliding to your back, his lips finding the soft spot beneath your ear.

Damn him.

All you could focus on was him—his touch, the way his body moved against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth paying attention to.

You should’ve stopped. You knew you should’ve. But when his lips found yours again, slow and deep, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

Then Heeseung's hand suddenly, ever so subtly, glided underneath your skirt, his touch gentle. You could feel his fingers trace the curve of your thigh, a sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached for his green tie, your fingers working to untie the knot. The fabric slipped from his neck, falling away with a soft rustle.

Slowly, you tugged at the collar of his shirt, pushing it aside, revealing more of his neck, and Heeseung let out a low, appreciative sound. His lips moved back to yours in a needy kiss.

And just when you thought you’d lost yourself completely, a voice—unexpected, unmistakable—cut through the haze of your thoughts.

"Really?"

You broke away from Heeseung, looking up to see Draco standing at the end of the hall, his eyes narrowed, his posture tense. He’d been watching the entire exchange, his expression a storm of emotion.

"Really!?" Draco shouted now, his voice was sharp, like a whip crack. "You think you can just—" He cut himself off, stepping forward, his eyes flicking from you to Heeseung. "Just take her like that!?"

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling your skirt rise higher as Heeseung kept you in place. You tried to ease out of his grasp, gently attempting to pull your leg down, but his hand tightened on your thigh in response, pulling you back toward him. It was like he refused to let go of you, like you were a prize he wasn’t ready to relinquish.

“Let her go, Heeseung,” Draco spat, stepping closer, his jaw clenched in frustration. His eyes darted between the two of you, and it was clear he didn’t like seeing Heeseung so close to you. “She doesn’t belong to you.”

Heeseung’s gaze remained cool, as he leaned in closer to you. "She doesn’t belong to you either," he replied back. His fingers traced the edge of your skirt, the contact sending an involuntary shiver through you. "But if she chooses to be here, with me," he added, "then that’s her choice, not yours."

Draco was visibly seething now, taking another step forward, his hand reaching out as if he could just take you from Heeseung. But before he could get any closer, Heeseung suddenly spun you around, his arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The movement was quick, shielding you from Draco’s view, and you were now facing Heeseung, back to Draco, as Heeseung’s hands gripped you tight, his breath warm against your ear. "You want her?" Heeseung’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it. "You’ll have to do better than that."

You were trapped between them—caught in their struggle, their silent battle for possession. And as you stood there, something inside of you wondered how you’d gotten here, caught between two people who seemed determined to claim you, as if you were a prize in their war.

But you weren’t anyone’s to take, were you?

Before you could fully process the thought, Draco’s voice sliced through the air again, a low, mocking laugh slipping from his lips.

“You really think you can keep her to yourself, Heeseung?” Draco sneered.

And yet, Heeseung didn’t let go, didn’t back down. Instead, he kept you pressed against him, his breath still warm on your neck.

“Let her decide,” Heeseung’s voice was a growl, holding you like he wasn’t about to let go.

For a moment, everything went silent. You felt the heat of both their glares, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from Heeseung’s grasp.

They had given you time to decide, but it was clear they were both impatient.

But you didn’t want any part of this. You hadn’t asked for this—any of it. All you wanted was a peaceful year, a chance to get through your classes, study, and avoid being caught up in whatever power struggle was unfolding between Heeseung and Draco. But here you were, stuck in the middle, torn between two people.

How were you supposed to choose between them?

Your heart raced, thoughts spinning in every direction. Both of them were waiting for you to make a decision, but the truth was, you didn’t want to choose at all. You didn’t want to get involved in their rivalry, didn’t want to be the reason for whatever animosity existed between them.

"I don’t want to be part of this," you muttered, frustration boiling beneath the surface as you finally spoke up, unable to keep it in any longer. "I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to be some kind of... trophy for either of you."

But both of them merely exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to you.

"Nobody said you were a trophy," Heeseung replied.

Draco, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, stepping closer as if he were trying to close the gap between the three of you. "No one gets to walk away, not when we’ve already made our intentions clear," he said, his voice low. "So you either pick or let me show you why i am the better choice."

Your stomach twisted as the pressure mounted, and you felt that sense of dread creeping up on you. You had no idea how to navigate this—how to choose one of them.

It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. You just wanted to survive the year, get through it without becoming a pawn in some twisted game. But as you all stood there, waiting for you to make your move, you couldn’t help but feel like there was no way out.

How could you even choose?

a/n: im gonna end it here and leave it up to you dear reader! who would to choose? personally i was never a draco girl so yeah.

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 11 months ago

Text

Michael Ralph, the Good Omens Production Designer, interview for Movieweb :), summer 2023

Question: What is your reaction to your fan's positivity?

Michael Ralph: It's unbelievable. To see your work reflected in the eyes of people that love it is incredibly complimentary and it feels on, you know, you're honoured by having that response .It's rare that you get to experience it. You know, I think that we were involved recently in a fans' view of the set where all the fans who'd been involved in a competition were able to walk around the set. It's extraordinary. And I got hugs and people in tears. And it is an overwhelming experience to stand in that street and be in that bookshop when you didn't think, even though you knew, but you didn't quite know it really existed as a place that you could walk around in is quite phenomenal.

Question: Do you see locations as extensions of characters?

Michael Ralph: My feeling is that we would all, if possible, choose to live where we believe and within an environment that we believe suits us, doesn't suit anyone else. It's a fingerprint thing. It's like, where are you most comfortable? Where are you most comfortable to read or to write or to watch a programme or where do you feel the most secure?That bookshop is an anchor point visually for the show and always has been an anchor point since day one. And it is where you feel most secure. It's where the door closed, you feel safe within it. And what emanates or resonates with that bookshop, not only from the character and the position or who Aziraphale is, is that everybody that walks into that bookshop feels the same thing. Everyone that walks in that bookshop, I've said it before, just want to live upstairs and drink red wine and read books all day and they feel comfortable and they feel nostalgic and it creates a sense of security and protection. And I think that if you can create that sort of sentimentality in something that you're walking around in, it must transcend the lens. And it obviously does because people feel it all the time and they want to go there and sit around in the corner and feel comfortable. So I think that from character point of view, I started really emotionally from Aziraphale. And Neil, whenever I've thought of a great idea that I tell Neil about and he tells me how amazing it might be or how fantastic or inspired it was, I suddenly start to realise it's probably in the book or it's probably in the script between the lines. What stimulates my apophenia, what stimulates my vision and my emotional motivation to design anything is what I can see in the page. So if he has written something so universally empathetic to an audience, then I'm seeing the same thing you are, in my variation, but it really is the same warp or the same sentimentality as I said, or any of those things. So if I can find how to get my fingernails under the edge of that, how I can actually depict it, then I know that it's going to work. And that's obviously... and you can believe in it then, and you can say it with all honesty, rather than impersonate your love for something or say something because your ego tells you you should, or produce something that's a duplicate of something you saw once in Italy. This is something you've got to feel that's specific to the project and specific to the written word, you know.

Question: Do you have the freedom to do what you want?

Michael Ralph: I must admit, reading the book the first time, it was difficult to get my head around how it was going to be depicted. You've got to be very careful that you don't impersonate what you've seen before, you don't copy and then call it original when it's not, because that's sort of like a cop out. You really, honestly have to live with it 24 hours a day, even while you're asleep, and search and search and search and search to find what it is that gets your fingernails under it, to find out what it is you really believe in. And it sounds so ethereal, but it's absolutely true. If you can get that, if you can openly find that, and you've got to feel that, if you can get that, then you're absolutely on something you can invest in and then something you can produce. Because then it's not something that's duplicated. All the furniture, literally all the furniture, all of the dressing on the walls, all of the bookshelves are all built but Bronwyn, a set decorator, will buy me a lot of brown furniture that she finds as really interesting furniture. Furniture that's got spindles and handcarved pieces and reliefs in it. And she gets me stuff that she believes goes with the character of the place. And then I'll break it open. This is what construction. I love working with construction with, because I'll break it open, cut it down, reattach it, and I'll remake wholewalls and bookshelves, like in the magic shop that none of it existed until we put together loads of stuff the set decorator found, that Bronwyn found. And then all that stuff ends up having a profile of the period, or echoes to you, little visual trip hazards of the period, of size and weight. But it isn't really anything you've ever seen before. It's not from a higher shop. It's not from a piece of furniture you bought, just plunk there. Because the camera sees things differently. And we have to lift all that up and make it bigger and larger in scale to punctuate the vision. So all of that is... there's all sorts of theories, I could go on forever, you know. I was saying to Bronwyn today that I think I've been working all my life on trying to raise my intellect, to be able to incorporate a vocabulary to explain what it is I do creatively. I'm not there yet.

Question: Is there something you'd like to explore in the future?

Michael Ralph: And it's funny you should say that, because that process, from what I've explained to you, doesn't originate with me. So you need to get that book or that source material, and someone has to say, you're the guide for this, I'd love to see what you see. And then it's like this massive submerge, you submerge into it. And then it's a journey, a journey that you embrace and it reveals things that I could guess maybe 15-20 things I'd like to do on Season Three, but it's not scripted. So what is that? You know, I've got imaginary things that I will adopt because I know that they've got weight or purpose that will work for Season Three. But I need to see what Neil shows me, you know, what Neil teaches and tells me, and then once I've seen that, I can run with it. He's such a wonderful appreciator of what you achieve. He's never questioned anything I've done, ever. And it's been hundreds of things, hundreds of sets and ideas. And no matter how crazy what it is, I might end up drawing the craziest things first. But he still loves them, you know. And it feels like it probably was there already between the lines. And all I've done is pick up on it. You got to really get into it to mime what it is that affects you and what moves you. What it is you love about something. You can watch a show and read a book and not love it. You don't know why you didn't love it, it's unequatable, but you just didn't connect. But what we're trying to do with everything we do cinematically is to connect, is to somehow get through the equation. So you feel it. And I got a feeling that's why Good Omens works so well. Because of the amount of love and emotion that people put into it and amount of faith people have in what they're doing, because it's only done out of joy and it's only done for the goodness of that wonderful story that is developed and matured, within it, between the characters. And because of that, you can do nothing but sprinkle magic on it all the time.

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #interview #michael ralph #michael ralph interview #s2 interview #videos #video interview #transcripts #movieweb #bts #bronwyn franklin #aziraphale's bookshop #fun fact #neil gaiman

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 11 months ago

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Boys Day Out.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - these new pictures are making me go feral, like his hair grew back so quick and ngl im absolutely loving it 🥰

word count - 2.8k

in which, manchester united are playing luton town fc in the premier league, and so what better thing to do then take your two football obsessed children to watch there favourite team hopefully win.

Friday 16th February, 2024.

Last Friday was a rare moment of tranquility in your household.

You sat nestled in your shared bed, Harry's arm draped around your waist, pulling you close. As you lost yourself in the pages of your book, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his eyes sparkled with every scroll on his phone.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm aura around the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere that enveloped you both. With each shared smile and whispered exchange, the bond between you grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of love and companionship that filled the space between you.

As the subtle silence enveloped the room, Harry gently broke it, his voice filled with excitement. "Y’know, m’love, I was thinking... How about taking the boys to the Manchester United match on Sunday? A mate has a few tickets spare. It would be a fantastic day out for them, and I reckon it'd do you good to have some time for yourself."

You paused, considering his suggestion. " H, I don't mind staying with the boys. Besides, it's a big game, and they might get restless."

Harry shook his head, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Nonsense, they'll love it! And you deserve a break, you do so much for them already. Plus, it'll be a chance for me to bond with the boys, just the three of us."

You couldn't help but smile at his earnestness.

"I suppose it would be nice to have a bit of me-time," you admitted, though still hesitant about leaving the boys for the day.

Seeing your uncertainty, Harry took your hand in his, his gaze softening. "Trust me, m’love, it'll be a day they'll never forget. Besides, it'll give you a chance to relax and unwind, do whatever you fancy without worrying about the boys."

His words warmed your heart, and you found yourself nodding, a sense of relief washing over you.

"Okay, you've convinced me. Let's make it a boys' day out on Sunday," you agreed, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of a few hours of peace and quiet.

Sunday 18th February, 2024.

Harry navigated his Range Rover through the familiar streets, the excitement palpable in the air as they neared Kenilworth town where the football match awaited.

In the backseat, Cameron, his eight-year-old son, gazed out of the window with a mix of wonder and anticipation, his Manchester United kit proudly worn.

Cameron Harry Styles was conceived only five months into yours and Harry’s relationship, it definitely came as a shock seeing as he was only twenty-two, but he absolutely wouldn’t change it for the world.

"Dad, do you think Rashford will score today?" Cameron asked eagerly, his eyes alight with excitement.

Harry glanced at Cameron through the rearview mirror, a smile playing on his lips.

"M’reckon he's got a good chance, Cam. But y’know how football is, anything can happen," he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, in the other car seat Dexter Robin Styles, your youngest child who was conceived on your honeymoon.

Dexter, just turned two, slept soundly in his car seat, blissfully unaware of the excitement surrounding him. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his youngest son, his heart swelling with love.

"Look at him, out like a light already," he remarked to Cameron.

Cameron grinned back, his excitement bubbling over.

"We can wake him up when we get there, Daddy," he declared confidently, already planning the day ahead in his mind. "I can't wait to see the players up close!"

The journey continued for another half an hour, the excitement building with each passing mile. Cameron peppered Harry with questions about the match, his eagerness infectious as they drew closer to the stadium. Dexter stirred in his sleep occasionally, but Cameron kept a watchful eye on him, eager to share every moment of the adventure with his little brother.

Finally, they pulled up in the stadium's private car park, greeted by the bustling atmosphere of fellow fans and the distant sounds of cheers from inside. Harry turned off the engine, glancing back at his sons with a grin.

As Harry stepped out of the car, he made his way around to Dexter's car seat, his heart full of anticipation for the day ahead. Gently, he opened the door and leaned in to wake his youngest son.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he murmured softly, giving Dexter a gentle shake. "It's time to wake up, buddy."

Dexter stirred, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly emerged from his deep slumber.

"Daddy?" he mumbled, his voice groggy from sleep. "Carry me, please?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at his son's request, knowing full well that Dexter was a total daddy's boy.

"Of course, little man," he replied, ready to scoop Dexter up into his arms. "You ready for some football?"

Dexter nodded, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. "Yeah, football!" he exclaimed, his voice still laced with sleepiness.

Harry chuckled softly, planting a kiss on Dexter's forehead.

"That's right, buddy. But first, we need to get you out of this car seat," he said, gently manoeuvring Dexter's sleepy limbs.

Meanwhile, Cameron had already made his way out of the car and stood next to his father, his hand clasped firmly in Harry's.

"I can't wait to see the players, Daddy!" he exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

Harry chuckled, ruffling Cameron's hair affectionately.

"I know, buddy. It's going to be an amazing day," he replied, his heart swelling with love for his two sons.

The stadium wasn’t that busy, but that may be because the match didn’t kick off for another hour.

No one had managed to spot him thus far, so it was all smooth sailing.

Dexter was still in his arms, thumb in his mouth and Cameron was holding his fathers hand, his shoulder length curls tied back in a loose man bun that you had done this morning.

As they made their way through the bustling stadium, Cameron's stomach rumbled loudly, coincidently as they passed a nearby food stand.

Oh how he craved some warm food right now.

"Daddy, m’hungry!" he exclaimed, tugging on Harry's hand.

Harry chuckled. "Hungry, huh? Remember, it's not 'want', it's 'would like'," he gently corrected, trying to instill good manners in his son.

Cameron nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food stand.

"Okay, Daddy. Can I have a slice of pizza, please?" he asked politely, his stomach grumbling impatiently.

Harry smiled, proud of Cameron's manners.

"Of course, buddy. Let's see what they have," he replied, leading the way to the queue.

As they waited in line, Harry turned to Dexter, who was still cradled in his arms.

"And what about you, Dex? Would y’like anything to drink?" he asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from Dexter's forehead.

Dexter nodded enthusiastically, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Fruit shoot, please, Daddy!" he chirped, his little voice filled with anticipation.

He should have guessed.

Harry chuckled, planting a kiss on Dexter's cheek.

"Fruit shoot it is, champ," he replied, making a mental note to grab a couple of bottles for the boys.

Finally reaching the front of the queue, Harry ordered a slice of pizza for Cameron and a couple of fruit shoots for Dexter. As they walked away from the food stand, Cameron eagerly bit into his slice, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. And with Dexter happily sipping on his fruit shoot.

In the stands of the bustling stadium, Harry sat between his two boys, each in their own seat. Dexter, perched proudly in his own seat, had insisted on being a "big boy" for the match, his determination shining through as he sat upright, his legs swinging with excitement.

Though still too young to fully grasp the intricacies of the game, Dexter's eyes sparkled with wonder as he took in the sights and sounds of the stadium, his tiny hands gripping the edge of his seat in anticipation.

Cameron, on the other hand, was completely engrossed in the action on the field. With his Manchester United scarf wrapped around his neck and his eyes fixed on the players, he leaned forward eagerly, his heart racing with each pass and shot. His passion for the game was palpable, his entire being consumed by the thrill of the match unfolding before him.

As the game entered its fifth minute, Manchester United surged ahead with an early goal, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he watched the excitement ripple through Cameron, his son's eyes shining with pure joy. And beside him, Dexter's infectious laughter filled the air, a constant reminder of the simple pleasures of being together as a family.

As the game entered its seventh minute, Manchester United's Rasmus Højlund seized an opportunity and scored a magnificent goal, sending the stadium into a frenzy of cheers and applause.

Cameron, unable to contain his excitement, leapt up from his seat, his eyes wide with jubilation as he started jumping up and down.

"Yes! Go, United!" he shouted, his voice filled with exhilaration.

Beside him, Dexter watched with wide-eyed wonder, not quite understanding what had just happened.

Sensing his confusion, Harry leaned down and whispered in Dexter's ear, "Dexter, our team just scored a goal! Isn't that exciting?"

Dexter's face lit up with understanding, and he clambered down from his seat, his tiny legs carrying him over to stand in front of Harry.

With a beaming smile, he reached out for Cameron's hand, eager to join in the celebration.

"Goal! Goal!" he exclaimed, mimicking his older brother's excited jumps.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his two boys jumping up and down in unison, their laughter echoing through the stadium. Quickly pulling out his phone, he aimed the camera at them, capturing the precious moment for posterity.

As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match with Manchester United emerging victorious with a score of 2-1, Cameron was buzzing with excitement. He bounced around, his energy infectious as he reveled in his team's triumph.

Meanwhile, Dexter, nestled contentedly in Harry's arms, gazed up at his father with sleepy eyes, still basking in the excitement of the game.

Unbeknownst to the boys, Harry had a surprise in store for them. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he decided to keep it a secret until the perfect moment. As they made their way out of the stadium, Cameron and Dexter assumed they were heading home, completely unaware of the surprise awaiting them.

A kind-hearted stadium staff member, noticing the boys' enthusiasm for the game, discreetly approached Harry and whispered about a special opportunity to visit the dressing room of Manchester United. Sensing the boys' excitement, Harry nodded gratefully, knowing that this unexpected treat would be the perfect end to an already unforgettable day.

They soon arrived at the changing rooms.

"Daddy, where are we going?" Cameron asked, his voice tinged with excitement and curiosity. Before Harry could respond, the door swung open, revealing a sight that left Cameron speechless.

His eyes widened in awe as he took in the scene before him—the dressing room of Manchester United, filled with his favorite players. For a moment, Cameron was rendered silent, his mouth hanging open in disbelief as he stood in the presence of his idols.

Meanwhile, Dexter, wide awake and brimming with enthusiasm, squirmed in Harry's arms, eager to explore. Spotting one of the players nearby, he wiggled free and dashed over without hesitation, his extroverted nature shining through as he greeted the player with a wide grin and a burst of chatter.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Dexter's boldness, his heart swelling with pride at his son's fearlessness. As Dexter chatted animatedly with the player, Harry followed after him, a fond smile on his face as he watched his youngest son soak up the moment with unbridled joy.

Beside him, Cameron held onto Harry's trouser leg tightly, his shyness evident as he observed the scene with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Harry knelt down beside him, offering reassurance and encouragement.

"S’okay, Cam. They're just regular people, like you and me," he whispered, gently squeezing Cameron's hand in support.

Harry noticed Cameron's apprehension and knelt down beside him, offering a reassuring smile and a comforting squeeze of his hand.

"S’okay, buddy. Y’don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to," he whispered gently, understanding his son's discomfort.

As the bustling activity in the dressing room continued, a familiar figure approached the trio.

It was Marcus Rashford, Cameron's favorite footballer.

The moment Cameron caught sight of him, his eyes widened in awe, and he instinctively tightened his grip on Harry's hand.

Harry smiled warmly as Marcus crouched down to Cameron's level.

"Hey there, buddy! Did you enjoy the game?" Marcus asked, his voice gentle and friendly.

Cameron nodded eagerly, his heart pounding with excitement.

"Y-yes! It wa-was amazing! Y-you're my favorite player," he stammered, his cheeks flushing with nervousness.

Marcus grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Thank you, mate! That means a lot to me. What's your name?" he asked, reaching out to ruffle Cameron's hair.

"C-Cameron," he replied, his voice trembling with excitement. "I-I've always wanted to be like you when I play football with my team."

Marcus's smile widened at Cameron's words.

"That's fantastic, Cameron! Keep working hard, and who knows, maybe one day you'll be playing for Manchester United too," he encouraged, his words filled with genuine warmth and encouragement.

Encouraged by Marcus's friendly demeanor, Cameron slowly began to relax. With Harry's reassuring presence beside him, he found the courage to step out from behind his father's leg and engage in conversation with his idol.

Harry, holding onto Dexter with his other hand to prevent him from wandering off again, watched proudly as Cameron and Marcus chatted animatedly. Despite Cameron's initial nervousness, his admiration for Marcus shone through, and Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his son's bravery.

And as they continued to talk, Cameron's stutter gradually faded away, replaced by an excited chatter as he eagerly shared his love for football with his idol. In that moment, surrounded by his father's support and the friendly encouragement of Marcus Rashford, Cameron felt like anything was possible.

As their conversation with Marcus continued, he noticed the excitement radiating from both Cameron and Dexter.

With a warm smile, Marcus gently interrupted their chatter.

"Hey guys, would you like to take a photo together?" he offered, extending his arms towards them.

Cameron's eyes lit up with excitement, while Dexter's face broke into a wide grin.

"Yes, please!" Cameron exclaimed, eager to capture the moment with their idol.

Marcus chuckled warmly as he scooped Dexter into one arm and Cameron into the other.

"Alright, let's get a picture," he said, positioning them carefully for the shot.

As Marcus held onto the boys, he glanced over at Harry, who stood nearby, watching with a proud smile.

"Would you like to join us in the photo?" Marcus asked, extending an invitation to Cameron and Dexter's father.

Harry's heart swelled with gratitude at the gesture.

"Absolutely," he replied, stepping forward to join the group.

With Harry now in the frame, another player from the team stepped forward to take the photo.

"Say cheese!" he called out, readying the camera.

Cameron, Dexter, and Harry beamed with excitement as the photo was taken, capturing the moment they shared with Marcus Rashford. As the shutter clicked, Harry felt a sense of overwhelming gratitude, knowing that this experience would be a cherished memory for years to come.

After the photo was taken, Cameron ran straight over to Harry, his eyes shining with tears of joy.

"Daddy, I love you so much! This has been the best day ever!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Harry in a tight hug.

Touched by Cameron's heartfelt words, Harry wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close.

"I love you too, Cam. M’so glad we could share this special moment together," he replied, his voice filled with emotion.

Feeling left out of the hug, Dexter toddled over, his arms outstretched.

"Me too! Hug, Daddy!" he chimed in, joining the embrace with a giggle.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Dexter's enthusiasm, his heart overflowing with love for his two sons. Pulling them both close, he held them tightly, savoring the moment of pure happiness and love.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, laughter mingled with tears of joy. In that moment, surrounded by the love of his family, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the beautiful memories they had created together. And as they headed home, hand in hand, he knew that this day would be etched in their hearts forever.

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buckysgrace · 3 months ago

Text

Sleepless Nights

Steve Harrington X Fem!Reader

Flufftober 2024

Steve and you celebrate your first Halloween with your baby.

The air was crisp and cool, chilly as you struggled to get the door shut as the gust of wind slammed in behind you once again. Discarded leaves danced inside, adding to the pile at your doormat.

Inside was warmer, the heat already on and comforting as the warm glow of the lights kicked on. It was only about four, but the sun was already dipping below the trees. And despite your house being older and much too large for the three of you, it was cozy. You had done a lot of touch ups over the summer, before you had to wiggle around to get off of the couch. Now, you were just too sore.

“It’s freezing out there,” Steve huffed, rubbing his hands together as he helped you carry the rest of the bags in the kitchen. He stalled at the kitchen table, peeking into the bundled form, “We might not get many trick or treaters this year.” He commented, though he sounded far away.

“How is she?” You asked, dipping your head down to where Steve had placed the baby carrier. He grinned, tilting his head back a bit to reveal the slumbering baby for you. Full cheeks and soft lips, her hair thick like her father’s. She was the cutest little thing you had ever seen.

Eloise Ester Harrington. Named after his grandmother and one of your favorite book characters. A fair comparison you had thought. She had been just under eight pounds and was still very, very fussy. But you still loved her all the same.

“Out like a light,” He smiled, a proud look in his eyes, “I told you she wouldn’t do bad.” He gave you a cocky look before he turned, unbuckling the little straps of her harness before he lifted her to freedom. She pulled her knees up to her chest, eyes still tightly shut as he brought her to his chest.

“Yeah she was fine after she puked everywhere.” You reminded him, pressing your lips into a smile as you worked on dumping the candy you’d just bought into your Halloween bowl. It was orange with dancing skeletons on it. You liked it a lot.

“She has a sensitive tummy,” He defended playfully, gently rubbing circles into her back, “How do you feel?” He asked you, checking up on you for what had to be the third time since you’d left a little bit ago. You appreciated it.

“Fantastic,” You teased as you unwrapped a lollipop and placed it into your mouth, “Really, I’m fine. I liked getting out of the house.” You admitted, enjoying the fresh air even if it had felt like your fingers had grown frozen.

“Do you still want to dress up?” He asked you curiously, tilting his head as he rocked the newborn back and forth in his arms. She stretched her little arms out, yawning before she dropped her face against his chest once again.

“Absolutely,” You told him seriously, “We’re supposed to match, I’m not gonna be left out.” You reminded him quickly, knowing that you would have fun with him. The previous years you’d dressed up and gone to some silly party, but this year it was just going to be the two of you. Well, now three.

“We’d never leave you out,” He teased, giving you a little kiss on the cheek, “I can make dinner.” He suggested, as if he hadn’t been doing that for the past few months. You often felt guilty for him working and spending so much time taking care of you and Eloises.

“I think we should order pizza,” You suggested instead, wanting him to have a little break, “We can get dressed and then get the movie set up, how does that sound?” You suggested, giving his hip a little squeeze as you walked with him up towards the room.

“Good,” He nodded his head, “Can we watch mine first?” He asked you, gently balancing Eloise against his side as he pulled the closet open.

“Gremlins?” You questioned, biting back a grin at the sheepish look he sent you, “Then we’re watching The Evil Dead.” You told him seriously, desperately needing to watch your favorite movie.

“I don’t mind it,” He defended himself quickly, “I just like the little mice things more.” He shrugged his shoulders as you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to determine if you would classify the Gremlins as rodents. Perhaps.

You both had decided on something easy, something loose so you didn’t have to wear anything too constricting. You both bore overalls, similar long sleeved button up shirts and cowboy hats to be farmers. Eloise was your little piggy, her little onesie pink and tight against her tummy that was full of milk.

Steve was the first one at the door, happily passing out rounds and rounds of candy as he showed you and Eloise off the whole time. You couldn’t help but smile, excited that he thought so highly of you.

Some time later you had decided to leave the rest of the candy outside, fearing that the wind might be too chill for little Eloise. You felt safe with your worries with Steve, especially since you were both new time parents. Perhaps a little more paranoid than you needed to be.

“Hello,” Robin grinned, her smile tight as she entered the house, “Steve said I didn’t need to knock.” She replied awkwardly, arms placed down to her sides as she stared at you.

“You don’t,” You reassured her, “There’s leftover pizza if you want some.” You offered, turning your attention fully towards her and away from the TV. You pointed towards the kitchen, not wanting her to feel so stiff and nervous.

“Awesome,” She nodded as she placed her hands in her pockets, staring at where you had Eloise resting against your chest, “But can I hold her first?” She asked hopefully, her blue eyes twinkling as she glanced down at the baby in your arms.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Steve smirked, moving his hand away from where he had been resting his cheek against his knuckles, “She’s pretty cool, isn’t she?” He commented, watching the gentle way you passed Eloise to her.

“Wow,” Robin commented, brushing her fingers gently against the top of Eloise’s hair, “Who knew you could make something so cute, Harrington?” She grinned as she nudged you with her elbow, making you shake your head.

“Ha, so funny,” He scoffed in return, “It’s almost like you’ve said that already.” He responded dryly, rolling his pretty brown eyes as you found yourself watching in admiration. You thought that your baby had the perfect mixture of him. And that he was very handsome. Pretty.

“Four times,” She whispered to you, “Hey, Eloise and Steve can learn to count together.” She continued to mock him, looking excited as she brushed her finger across Eloise’s nose. He huffed, placing his hands on his knees before he forced himself up from his spot.

“Your baby privileges are banned,” Steve replied, shaking his head as he scooped the newborn back up, “You can have her back when you learn to be nice.” He told her with a nod of his head as she gaped in surprise.

“That’s not fair.” She pouted as she looked at you, but you only shrugged your shoulders. He didn’t want any negative talk around the baby.

“He’s a bit of a baby hog,” You admitted, grinning at the way Eloise rested easily against his chest, “But he’s helpful. He gets up every single time she cries.” You explained, smiling softly as you watched him. He had been more than helpful, before labor, during and after.

“I try to be,” He cocked his eyebrows at Robin, seemingly showing off as he rested Eloise across his chest, “She’s a good baby.” He added, pretending to pet your baby’s back.

“I wouldn’t know.” She grumbled, dramatically crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him.

“You’ve seen her plenty of times,” He rolled his eyes dramatically, “Was there still candy out there?” He asked a second later, glancing towards her curiously. She furrowed her eyebrows together.

“What candy?” She asked you both seriously, her knees bumping against your thigh as she faced the two of you better.

“In the candy bowl,” You explained, “It got too cold for us to sit out there any longer.” You told her, glancing back over your shoulder to ensure that you had kept the outside light on.

“Sorry to tell you,” She said slowly, “But there was no candy bowl out there.” She held her palms up to the air, shrugging as she broke the news. You gaped, understanding that the kids might want the candy but could they not leave the bowl behind?

“Someone ran off with our candy bowl?” Steve grumbled, “Crotch goblins.”’ He shook his head, playing with Eloise’s thick hair.

“Dad of the year.” Robin teased, grinning at the way he rolled his eyes once again. You laughed at their relationship, not quite understanding how they were always so mean but loving towards one another.

You and Robin chatted about how her work was going and about her struggling relationship as you fed Eloise. You were still trying to get used to breastfeeding, feeling a little embarrassed as you kept yourself closely covered.

“Can you get a picture of us?” Steve asked suddenly as he returned from the kitchen, a can of Coke in one hand as he passed the camera to Robin without waiting for her response.

“Can I hold the baby again?” She asked quickly, eyebrows raised as she linked her fingers together over her stomach. He placed a hand on his waist.

“Do you remember her name?” He asked seriously, making you press your lips into a smile. Eloise popped her eyes open slowly, glancing around as you wiped drool from the corner of her lips.

“Her name should’ve been Robin, but yes. I do.” She agreed, making you laugh softly. She had been suggesting that ever since you and Steve had found out you were having a girl.

“Why would I name my baby after you?” He scoffed playfully, gripping her hand and forcing her out of the chair. He plopped down where she had been sitting.

“Why would you name her after your grandma?” She asked in return, making him pause for a second as he thought over his answer

“Fair,” He nodded in agreement, smiling as invited you closer to him, “C’mere, baby.” He smiled, brushing his nose against your cheek as Robin got the camera set up.

You wiggled your way underneath his arm, resting your head against his as he gently held Eloise up. You smiled as you squeezed onto his waist, your heart fluttering as you listened to the soft rumble of Steve’s voice.

“Happy Halloween!” He exclaimed to know one in particular, but caught your attention as you glanced at his full smile and relaxed expression. You could get used to this.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x female!reader #Steve Harrington x female reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x YN #Steve and Robin #Steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington is a good dad #steve harrington fluff #Flufftober #Flufftober 2024 #Steve Harrington x mom!reader

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out-of-the-forest-i-come · 6 months ago

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Queer romance recs for the summer

Summer is here and I know many like to read more lighthearted books during that time, so here are some queer romances I've really enjoyed and that I think are perfect for the summer.

Anything by F.T. Lukens. Most specifically, those I've read are So This Is Ever After, In Deeper Waters, and Otherworldly. If you're looking for cute queer romantasy novels to read this summer, look no further. F.T. Lukens' books are fun and lighthearted even when they deal with heavier topics, and they contain mlm, mlnb, and nb rep.

Running Close to the Wind by Alex Rowland. I've talked about this book before and I'll probably talk about it many more times because I adored it. It's hilarious and refreshing even though it handles some heavy topics, so if you like pirates, accidental treason, and dirty jokes, this book is perfect for you. In terms of representation, it has polyamory rep, various sexualities, and intersex (if I remember correctly) and non-binary rep.

Gwen and Art Are Not In Love by Lex Croucher. This book is an adorable, fun romance set in a historical setting inspired by Arthurian times. It's perfect if you're looking for not one but two forbidden romances, banter and adventure, humour, and wlw and mlm rep.

Delilah Green Doesn't Care by Ashley Herring Blake. I remember I absolutely loved this book when I read it during the summer a couple of years ago, and my feelings after two years are still the same. This book is an adult romance novel (with one or two sex scenes) with vivid and complex characters, amazing sapphic rep, and a fantastic romance. Even better, it's a completed trilogy, and though I've yet to read the two other books, I'm sure they're great too.

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell. You've probably already heard of this one, and it is a book I've really enjoyed. Carry On is fun and captivating, and reads easily.

She Gets the Girl by Rachael Lippincott and Alyson Derrick. A cute love story inspired directly from the real-life romance between the authors (who are married, if I'm not mistaken), and a great way to cheer yourself up.

Café con Lychee by Emery Lee. I read this book a couple years ago already, but it was super cute and it read so easily that I finished it in a day. If you're looking for a light-heared, coming-of-age mlm romance, then this is the book for you.

Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall. Last but not least, one of my favourite books from last year. Boyfriend Material is a hilarious mlm romance that somehow manages to be a light read even though it deals with some dark topics. The characters are amazing, their relationship and how it develops even more so, and this book was an immediate favourite for me. Some people have disliked the sequel, Husband Material, but I loved it just as much, and the third and final book is due to come out some time next year.

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hihhasotherfixations · 2 years ago

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John Price headcanons sfw & nsfw

I don’t usually do headcannons so please bear with me 👉👈

I hope you enjoy them tho :3 Will I use many of these in my writing? Yes, yes I will. These are both in general as well as him with you ;3

Part 2

Sfw:

He has an entire routine for his beard. Keeps it trimmed regularly and takes very good care of it, which causes it to feel very nice and soft to the touch.

Absolutely LOVES when you’re the one doing it though. It’s a small act of love that he can never get enough of. Whether you’re the one trimming it or just putting some products in. It’s a moment where he can sit on the bath rim and have you stand between his legs - or the other way around where he props you up on the sink and stands in between your legs. He just places his hands on your hips and closes his eyes, trusting you with something so important to him. It’s a very intimate thing that he treasures.

He has reading glasses. I won’t budge on this. Square(rectangle) ones with a very thin frame. Tends to forget whenever he puts them on his head and proceeds to go searching for them for five minutes.

He is very warm blooded. Always runs hot like a furnace. A blessing in the winter, a curse in the summer. Especially because he loves to cuddle.

Has a little trinket on his desk representing each of the 141 (+ Nik, Laswell and Farah). Be it a gift they gave to him or something that reminds him of them. There’s something for everyone. It clutters the edge of his desk a bit but it’s worth it because whenever the paperwork gets too much, he can just look at the little shrine he built and smile.

His love language is physical touch and quality time. While he loves giving you gifts and being romantic too, nothing beats holding you in his arms while you cuddle on the couch or in bed.

Speaking of- this man absolutely adores you. He doesn’t think he deserves the love you give him because of the things he’s done in his life. But every day he sees you, you prove that you do love him and he wants to return that love twice over.

His biggest fear is coming home after deployment to an empty house. Finding a letter on the table stating you can’t wait for him any longer. He’d understand, of course. But it would crush him.

While we’re on the sad train already- he suffers frequent nightmares due to PTSD. Feels really guilty for waking you up but also can’t stop himself from seeking your comfort after one of them - craving it. If you allow him to (he wouldn’t bring it up unless you suggested it), he’ll call you if he’s out on deployment or at base. Give him that privilege to phone you awake just to comfort him? There is nothing that man won’t do for you anymore.

He is terrified of being the one to leave you too though. He knows that if he’s ever faced with the option to sacrifice himself for one of the 141, he would. But it also breaks his heart because it would mean he’d leave you for them. He tries not to think about it like that, but it’s a constant conflict in his mind.

While he’s probably more likely to be a dog person, I can also really see him with cats just curled up on his chest. Once again, this man is always warm. The little felines will search him out like a bloodhound, preferring him over laying by the radiator.

THIS 👏 MAN 👏 CAN 👏 COOK 👏

And he loves to do it too. His idea of a hobby is either reading, building models or cooking. You can often find him in the kitchen with a cook book, making a five star meal. Loves to see your reaction to the taste of it, makes him proud of himself.

Also, yeah, he likes building models :3. Miniatures. In his spare time you can find him on the couch, bent over the coffee table with his reading glasses perched on his nose while he’s building a ww2 bomber plane out of matchsticks from some random pattern he found online. He has very steady hands and it causes the models to always look fantastic. His best and biggest work is a ship in a bottle from a kit you gave him for an anniversary between you two. He only works on that in short increments to make sure he doesn’t screw it up - it’s about 2/3 done. You’ve repeatedly tried to get him to share his work online but he always gets bashful and refuses.

If he ever got the chance to do it together with the team though?? He’s gonna be beaming about that single evening for a week straight.

His favourite colour is dark green, like the forests :)

This is less of a headcannon and more just snippets of canon proof that I found. But he can speak English, Russian, Arabic and Spanish. Maybe even more.

He’s a tea person. Can’t stand coffee. It’s not about the taste, simply that every time he tried it, it gave him a headache.

When he first introduced you to the team, he was very nervous. Really wanted them to like you. So when Soap immediately took you into a hug and thanked you for ‘taking care of the old man’, followed by Gaz introducing himself with a warm smile and a praising regalia of the things he’d heard from Price, he couldn’t be happier. And when he at one point saw you at the kitchen table with Ghost, talking calmly and laughing with the hulking man who’s tension had dropped from his shoulders? He knew you were the one.

Loves going on double dates with Laswell and her wife too. You’re all good friends and it’s a chance to truly unwind and just catch up with Kate outside of work.

Please for the love of all that is holy, take a bath or shower with him. He ADORES them. Really wants so bad to take care of you. Will do your whole cleaning routine for you if you let him. If it’s something he’s not used to? Teach him, he’s very eager to learn.

All in all, this man just loves you so much. He finds himself so so lucky that you chose him of all people as your partner. Whether you’re civilian or military, he’ll protect you with life and limb. Literally.

So, those were the sfw thoughts bouncing in my head. I hope you liked them. Now we’re moving onto the spicy stuff. Please respect the banner, thank you and more stuff for this man is coming! ^^

Nsfw:

He is an ass man. All the way. Don’t get me wrong, he LOVES your thighs, seeing the way his fingers indent the flesh when he squeezes, being buried between them - it’s heavenly. But there is just something about your ass that he can’t get enough of. If his eyes aren’t on it, then his hands are.

He won’t randomly smack your ass - doesn’t really sit right with him, doesn’t find it proper (except for certain situations ;3). But dear god does he always have a hand on your ass to squeeze if he gets the chance. Walking somewhere together? If he can, he’ll slide his hand from your back/waist down to your ass and hold there. Sitting on his lap? You already know it, his hand is on your ass, keeping you in place. Brushing past you? One hand on your waist, one hand on your ass while he apologises and squeezes past.

A gentle over a rough lover. While he can go both ways, he prefers to go slow and deep. Watching your face contort in pleasure as he fucks you, hearing every noise you make.

This man is an absolute pleasure dom. He gets off on seeing you get off. There’s plenty of nights where he solely focuses on you and doesn’t cum himself.

Doesn’t like the word daddy but for the love of god PLEASE use honorifics. Call him captain and sir and you’ll have an entirely different man on your hands.

Prefers giving over receiving oral. There’s just something about working his tongue and mouth on you that never fails to make him groan against you - even if his mouth is otherwise occupied.

Will always properly prepare you. He doesn’t like hurting you. He’s big and he knows it so he doesn’t want to take any chances.

While he doesn’t mind quickies (in his office is a favourite), he prefers the actual thing. Like stated before, he wants to focus on you and give you all the pleasure he can and a quicky just doesn’t allow for that.

For those instances where you rile him up enough to forego his gentler side however? He knows how to work you. He can push every button you have and have you seeing stars while he fucks the life out of you. Don’t expect to be standing on strong legs the day after.

Man has stamina for DAYS. Prefers to make you cum multiple times before he cums himself. Need a moment in between orgasms to recover before you can go again? That’s okay, you can cockwarm him while he waits.

Speaking of cum. It’s thick, potent and by god he cums a lot. Properly stuffs you if you let him.

Big on marking you. Loves leaving bites, hickeys and handprints. Give him the same too. Scratch marks, bite marks, hickeys. He loves checking his body over in he morning to see what you left.

He has quite the libido on him. He can’t help it, you’re the most inviting and enticing thing in his eyes. Bend over to pick something up and his cock can already be hardening in his pants.

He’s very considerate of your wants and needs though. If you don’t want to have sex, he’ll cuddle you and hold you instead. If you’re not into a certain thing, he’ll refrain on doing it next time. Very much wants to make it a time of pure pleasure and love for you, because that’s what it is for him too.

Very into kisses. Sloppy, long kisses where you moan and whine into his mouth. Better yet if you muffle your moans in his mouth while he fucks you.

Favourite positions are missionary, mating press, doggy style, lotus and spooning sex. He loves them for different reasons.

Missionary because of how close he can be, feeling your legs wrap around his waist while all of him touches all of you.

Mating press because of how deep he can hit and keep such control. He can see your face contort in pleasure while folding your legs up and holding you down.

Doggy style is obvious as to why. But he also really loves watching the way your back arches with this one. He can hold onto your hips and just let his eyes rove your body.

Lotus he loves a lot when cuddles on the couch evolve into more, or when he’s in his office and the need arrises for you both. Just having you seated on his lap, your legs around him, body pressed so closely into his while he gently fucks up into you? Heaven.

Spooning sex? You mean cuddles + sex? Hit. Him. Up. He absolutely loves fucking you like this in the morning. Lazy, tired, properly waking each other up with pleasure.

If you’re into it and allow him to, he’d even actually wake you up like that. Big on somnophelia like that for the thought of pulling you out of your dreams and your sleep with pleasure. If he gets to the stage where he’s opened you up and his cock is filling you without you waking up until then, he’s oh so proud of himself. Would only do it if you’re comfortable though.

Very big on cockwarming. Watch a movie together on the couch and let him rest his cock in you from behind. Can evolve into spooning sex on the couch while making you try to keep your attention on the movie. His hand on your chin, keeping your face pointed to the screen while he whispers against your ear.

I said it before, he’s big. Long and thick and knows how to use it well. He’s a very hairy man all over but he keeps it neatly trimmed down there.

The h a p p y t r a i l of this man. Run your nails over it and it instantly sends blood rushing into his cock.

Overall, John will fuck you whenever he gets the chance. And by the gods he will show you what it’s like to be truly worshipped.

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to interact or send me any asks, I’d love to chat ^^

Part 2

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #cod x reader #price headcanons #call of duty mw2 #cod mw #price mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare x reader #nsft headcanon

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ipso-faculty · 4 months ago

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Today's rabbithole: the origins of "dyadic" as opposite of intersex/h-word

TLDR: "dyadic" seems to come from 1970s radical feminism and seems to have entered intersex vocabulary via gender studies. This implies it is NOT a term coined from within the intersex community.

I've been reading Cripping Intersex since it's this month's pick for @intersexbookclub (and it's not too late for you to pick it up yourself! 💜). One thing that caught my attention is Orr spends a bunch of time presenting the origins of "endosex" and "perisex" as disputed for whether these terms were coined by intersex people or not.

Orr does this because they clearly prefer "dyadic" and are trying to justify why they're talking about "compulsory dyadism" rather than "compulsory endonormativity/perinormativity" etc. 🤨

Interestingly enough, Orr makes absolutely zero attempt in the book to find an origin for the word "dyadic". 🧐 Orr also never questions whether the term "dyadic" actually came from the intersex community. 🧐 So..... rabbit hole time!

Before I get into what I found on dyadic, I wanna quickly fact check Orr on the origin of endosex. Best as I can tell, the term was first used in German in 2000 by Heike Bödeker. Bödeker is controversial for supporting autogynephilia 😬, but I've never seen anybody doubt Bödeker having mixed gonadal dysgenesis. If anybody knows of an older use of endosex, please send it my way! But as far as I can tell, "endosex" was coined by an intersex person.

Okay, onto the origin of dyadic. Orr presents this word as though its only detractors come from its implication there is a sex binary, even though as @intersex-ionality discusses here there are other reasons people don't like it. One reason is that the term is considered to originate from outside the intersex community.

Orr never questions the origins of dyadic. But intersex-ionality's post got me wondering if I could track down an textual origin.

So I went to Google Scholar, searched for "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "intersex" or the h-word and kept changing the time period increasingly far back in time. (Initially I just used intersex until I remembered the h-word slur would be more common in older articles 😬.)

I went into this thinking maybe dyadic would be related to how in early intersex studies literature like Critical Intersex (2009) you can see authors trying out terms like "dimorphic" and "dimorphous" that reference sexual dimorphism. (Neither "dyadic" nor "endosex" show up in the book.)

But the earliest works by intersex scholars that invoke dyadic tend to use it in a way that implies to me it has its own origin - e.g. Malatino (2010) talks about "at one pole, the dyad of the dimorphic heterosexual couple and, at the other, the hermaphroditic body" and "the heteronormative promised land of proper dyadic, dimorphic sex" which gives me the impression dyadic has a more sociological origin rather than the biology origin of dimorphic.

This 2010 gender studies article by Mandy Merck that talks about the intersex rights movement was my first solid lead. Merck draws a direct connection between the intersex rights movement and the 1970 book The Dialectic of Sex by Shulamith Firestone. 😯

In the book, Firestone explicitly talks about the "male-female dyad". This book had a fairly big impact when it came out. Firestone was a big-name second-wave radical feminist. And as Merck puts it: "[Firestone's] aim is to release women and men from the culturally gendered[5] dyad of the “subjective, intuitive, introverted, wishful, dreamy or fantastic” and the “objective, logical, extroverted, realistic”[6] into a society undivided by genital differences. This she calls “integration.”" (emphasis mine)

Pushing the search terms to before the 00s, I found I there were some 1980s botanists kinda using "dyad" as an opposite to "hermaphrodite" (example). I don't know how standard this was though, and with Google Scholar it is important to remember that digitization becomes less common the further back you go. 🤷‍♀️

Judith Butler used "dyadic" in a 1985 article about Foucault's Herculine Barbin.

The Butler article got me searching for more generally - "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "sex-roles male female". I found lots of results using dyadic to talk about female/male sex roles from the 1970s.... and a rather sudden paucity of such articles in the 1960s. 🤔

When I restricted the search to anything before 1970, I get results from symbolic interactionist sociology. I.e. the sociology use of "dyadic" (i.e. any social interaction happening between a pair of individuals).

So looks like dyadic as a sex role thing entered the academic lexicon in the early 70s. Which lines up pretty damn well with The Dialectic of Sex coming out in 1970. 👍️ And indeed, many of the 70s uses of "dyadic" explicitly cite Firestone.

I'm guessing Firestone was probably influenced by the interactionist term. Lots of sociologists were talking about dyadic relationships and/or interactions such as teacher-student, parent-child, husband-wife, etc. In this context, it's not surprising that Firestone would pick dyad as a term to talk about male-female sex roles and interactions.

Other than the 1980s botany articles I didn't actually find much from the pre-2000 biology world, and no leads from the medical literature. This doesn't mean "dyadic" wasn't being used by physicans, just that it isn't showing up in my searches on Google Scholar.

I'm coming out of this with the impression that Merck's got it right to be connecting the intersex-related use of dyadic as originating from the writing of Shulamith Firestone. If anybody knows of competing evidence for an origin, *please* do send it my way as I'd be super interested. But in the absence of other evidence, I'd tentatively say that the term dyadic came out of second wave radical feminism and *not* the intersex community.

#intersex #actually intersex #dyadic #endosex #etymology #queer linguistics #intersex terminology #intersex studies #queer theory #feminism #actuallyintersex

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blessphemy · 18 days ago

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Heehee, I'm really enjoying the mystery of all the seemingly disconnected things you tag as 'translation state.' You're making me want to read it <3

i'm hoping to create my translation state quotes hall of fame post soon, this book is actually a situational comedy masquerading as a political thriller star crossed romance with alien cannibalism garnish. you know, normal stuff.

i would recommend reading Ancillary Justice first though! first book in the Imperial Radch trilogy. then the rest of the trilogy, Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy. i am dead serious i think the Imperial Radch trilogy is a modern sci fi classic, building on the sci fi canon that comes before it in such a fantastic way. Ancillary Justice is an absolutely beautifully put together work, master craft shit. no notes. (I do have notes on the structure of Translation State.) i have literally studied AJ's structure like I'm trying to dissect it and it's insanely clean. I can only think of like, maybe 1 thing I'd like to ask the author about regarding her choice of how she executed the ending. Leckie did you have Breq shoot the gun without public witnesses because it would've fucked up the logistics of the rest of a trilogy? part of me can't help but think the ending of AJ would've worked better as a final public showdown and it highkey felt like that's what it was building toward until—but on the other hand the ending as written mirrors the hidden situation with Awn so perfectly—anyway it makes me rabid.

GOD oh my god that scene with Lieutenant Awn (iykyk) when Awn dropped her mic on Anaander and then Anaander dropped her mic on Awn and I knew what was coming next and the whole arc of the book all clicked together right in the beating heart of the story I about screamed I had to put the book down and pace it out for a while before picking it back up.

the Imperial Radch trilogy punched its entire fist through my brain and i never truly recovered. it was everything i wanted. if you let me start talking about it i won't shut up for about 30-45 minutes minimum. it can be a little dense and I gather the tone/style is not for everyone but boy fuckin' howdy does it hit for the people it hits. every single character is my problematic fave. every single character is fucking unhinged in their own special way. <3 (except Queter. who may have built a bomb but she did nothing wrong ever in her life.)

Provenance and Translation State are in the same universe as the trilogy, but follow (mostly) different casts of characters. i suppose you could read Translation State first if you feel like a rebel, and I'd be fascinated to hear how it reads without the prior context. but also I really think it would land better if you read the trilogy first.

#translation state #imperial radch

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satansdarlin · 3 months ago

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Spring's comfort

Oh my God, two posts in one day? New record! Anyway I wrote this to indulge my shameless love for Scott summers. (My ACTUAL hubby). Also stoner!Scott cause I said so.

Scott summers x FEM!reader

Rating: M

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: talk about weed and the consumption of it, mention of sexual tension and slight alludements to it, talk of battle feild casualties, talk of self doubt and bullying for physical appearance, The xmen are nearly a sickingly sweet family.

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

The hill behind Xavier's School bloomed with early spring's awakening, dotted with cheerful dandelions that swayed in the gentle breeze. Below, the sounds of laughter and the crack of baseball bats echoed across the grounds, but your attention was fixed on the figure hunched beneath the ancient oak that crowned the hilltop.

You traced your fingers across the weathered bark, finding the initials you and Scott had carved years ago—back when white bandages had covered his eyes instead of his now-signature ruby quartz. Those early days felt like a lifetime ago, yet some things remained constant: like Scott's stubborn refusal to show weakness, even as spring's changing pressure systems wreaked havoc with his migraines.

"Don't," Scott said through clenched teeth as you settled beside him. "I'm fine."

You kept your voice soft, barely above a whisper, but couldn't resist a touch of sarcasm. "Oh yeah, you look absolutely fantastic. I especially love how you're definitely not about to accidentally vaporize that innocent shrub down there."

He pressed his face harder against his knees, a quiet groan escaping. "Please don't start. I've already had to deal with Logan's commentary today."

"No starting, I promise." You reached into your pocket, retrieving a small bottle. "In fact, I come bearing gifts of mercy."

The secret you shared with Scott—one that would leave the entire school slack-jawed in disbelief if they knew—clinked softly as you shook out a single gummy and pressed it into his palm. The straight-laced, by-the-book Scott Summers had discovered that sometimes the best medicine came in less conventional forms.

"You're an absolute lifesaver," he murmured, carefully placing the edible on his tongue. He let it dissolve slowly, a technique you'd both learned maximized its effectiveness against the crushing pressure behind his eyes.

You settled back against the oak's sturdy trunk, maintaining a comfortable silence as the spring breeze carried distant shouts and laughter up the hill. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for Scott—one he allowed few others to witness—and you were content to simply be there, a steady presence while he waited for relief.

Minutes passed in companionable quiet before Scott finally shifted, his shoulders gradually losing their tension. "Logan caught me in the Danger Room earlier," he admitted, voice slightly rough. "Told me I was being an idiot for pushing myself when I could barely see straight."

"Well, he's not wrong," you replied, bumping his shoulder gently. "Though I'm sure he expressed it with his usual delicacy."

A small smile tugged at Scott's lips. "Something about 'stubborn jackasses' and 'teaching while half-blind.'" He lifted his head slightly, the afternoon sun catching on his visor. "I had to cancel my advanced combat class."

"The students will survive one missed lesson," you assured him. "Contrary to what you might think, the school won't fall apart if you take care of yourself occasionally."

"Says the person enabling my highly unprofessional coping methods," he countered, but there was warmth in his voice now, the edge of pain finally beginning to fade.

You grinned. "Hey, I prefer to think of it as 'providing alternative therapeutic solutions.' Very professional. I could probably write a paper about it."

"Please don't." But he was actually chuckling now, the sound soft and genuine. The medication was starting to take effect, easing the vice-grip of pain that had been squeezing his skull. "Though I'd love to see the Professor's face if you tried to present that at a medical conference."

"'The Effects of Cannabis on Optic Blast-Induced Migraines: A Case Study,'" you intoned in your best academic voice. "I'm sure it would be very well-received."

Scott shook his head, but he was smiling properly now. The worst of the migraine was passing, leaving him tired but no longer in agony. He leaned back against the tree beside you, your shoulders touching. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For knowing when to find me. For..." He gestured vaguely, encompassing everything—the medicine, the company, the lack of judgment.

"Always," you replied simply. "That's what friends are for.”

The word "friends" settled between you like autumn leaves, delicate and somehow tinged with melancholy. You became acutely aware of where your shoulders touched, of the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the spring air. These moments alone with Scott had become both a comfort and a sweet torture—each one adding another crack to the careful walls you'd built around your growing feelings for him.

Scott shifted slightly, and you felt him tense, though not from pain this time. "Jean asked about us the other day," he said carefully, his tone deliberately neutral in that way that meant he was overthinking every word.

Your heart stuttered. "Oh?" You kept your own voice light, though your fingers nervously plucked at the grass beside you. "What about us?"

"She said..." He paused, seeming to wrestle with the words. "She said we have a connection she's never seen me have with anyone else. That even without her telepathy, she can see it."

You forced a laugh, though it came out slightly strained. "Well, shared delinquency does tend to bond people."

"That's not—" Scott started, then stopped. His jaw worked for a moment before he continued, softer, "You know that's not what she meant."

The air felt heavier suddenly, charged with unspoken words. You could feel your pulse in your throat, years of careful friendship teetering on the edge of something more. But the risk of losing what you had, of making things awkward and ruining the easy comfort between you—it seemed too high a price.

"Scott..." you began, not sure how to finish.

He turned toward you slightly, and even through the ruby quartz, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Sometimes," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "I wonder if I'm the only one who..." He trailed off, uncertainty evident in the set of his shoulders.

Your breath caught. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? You'd gotten so good at reading him over the years, at interpreting every subtle shift in his expression, but right now you were terrified of misunderstanding.

"You're not," you whispered back, heart hammering. "You're not the only one."

The confession hung in the air between you, delicate as spun glass. Scott's hand found yours in the grass, his fingers trembling slightly as they intertwined with your own. Neither of you moved beyond that simple touch, both afraid of shattering this fragile new thing taking shape between you.

"How long?" he asked softly.

You gave a shaky laugh. "Remember when you helped me practice combat moves last summer? You pinned me down, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. And it wasn't because of the sparring."

A slight flush crept up his neck. "I, uh, may have let that match go on longer than strictly necessary for training purposes."

"Really?" You turned to face him fully now, a smile tugging at your lips. "And here I thought you were just being thorough."

"I've wanted to tell you," he admitted, thumb tracing patterns on your palm. "But you're one of the few people who sees me as just... me. Not Cyclops, not the team leader, just Scott. I couldn't bear to lose that."

"You won't," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "That's not something that could change. Though I might have to start calling you 'just Scott' now, to make sure you remember."

He smiled then, one of those rare, full smiles that made your heart flip. "I think I can live with that."

The baseball game below had ended, the sun starting to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. But neither of you moved to leave your spot under the oak tree, content to sit in this new understanding, hands linked, watching the day fade into evening.

Sometimes the biggest changes came not with grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but with quiet admissions on spring afternoons, with the gentle understanding that what you'd been looking for had been right beside you all along but that was just the beginning of something new.

Your room had become a haven of soft lamplight and quiet laughter as evening settled over the mansion. You sat cross-legged on your bed, Scott beside you, both of you having shed the day's tensions along with your shoes. The small fan in your window hummed, pushing the spring breeze through your room and carrying away any telltale scents.

"I still can't believe you kept that," Scott chuckled, gesturing to the rather embarrassing photo on your cork board—him in his early days at the school, attempting to look serious despite sporting a truly regrettable haircut.

"Are you kidding? It's blackmail gold," you teased, feeling wonderfully light and warm. The evening's shared gummy had left you both in that perfect state of relaxed contentment. "Besides, you were adorable with that bowl cut."

"Adorable isn't exactly the look I was going for," he replied, but his smile was fond. The usual rigid set of his shoulders had melted away, and he'd relaxed back against your headboard, his leg pressed against yours.

"No? What look were you going for exactly? Because I distinctly remember—"

A sharp knock at your door made you both freeze.

"Hey, kid, you got a bottle opener in there?" Logan's gruff voice carried through the wood.

You exchanged panicked looks with Scott, whose face had gone notably pale. "Uh, just a second!" you called out, frantically waving your hands at the wisps of smoke from your incense burner.

"I can come back if you're busy," Logan drawled, a knowing tone in his voice that made your stomach drop. Right. Enhanced senses. Of course he could smell—

"No! No, it's fine, I'll just—" you stumbled off the bed, accidentally kicking Scott in the process, who barely managed to stifle a yelp.

When you opened the door, you kept it deliberately narrow, trying to block the view inside. Logan stood there with his signature raised eyebrow, a six-pack of beer tucked under one arm.

"Bottle opener?" you squeaked.

His nostrils flared slightly, and his lips twitched. "Interesting evening you're having."

"I don't know what you—"

"Summers in there with you?" He didn't wait for an answer, raising his voice slightly. "You know, if someone's having trouble sleeping or dealing with pain, there's this thing called the med bay."

You heard Scott groan from inside the room.

Logan's expression shifted between amusement and exasperation. "Look, I don't care what you two do in your off hours, but maybe try using the bathroom fan next time. Some of us have sensitive noses." He paused, then added with a smirk, "And thin walls."

Your face burned. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."

"Bottle opener?" he reminded you.

"Right! Yes!" You practically dove for your desk drawer, grabbed the opener, and thrust it at him.

He accepted it with a knowing look. "Have fun, kids. Try to keep it down." He turned to leave, then called over his shoulder, "And Summers? You got training with the junior team at nine tomorrow. Don't be late."

You closed the door and leaned against it, mortified. Behind you, Scott had buried his face in your pillow.

"So," you said after a moment of profound silence, "that happened."

Scott lifted his head, his hair adorably mussed. "Think he'll tell the Professor?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his worried expression. "Pretty sure Logan's the last person to snitch about recreational activities." Moving back to the bed, you settled beside him again. "Though we might want to invest in better ventilation."

"Or," Scott said, reaching for your hand and pulling you closer, "we could just use my room next time. Corner suite. Better air flow."

"Next time?" you asked, trying to ignore how your heart skipped at his casual assumption of future evenings together.

His smile turned slightly sheepish. "Well, I was hoping... since we already came clean about other things today..."

You leaned in closer, feeling bold. "Mr. Summers, are you suggesting we make this a regular thing?"

"The getting caught by Logan part? Definitely not." His hand found your waist. "The rest of it? Yeah, I think I am."

Before you could respond, his com unit chirped. Followed by yours. Then both of your phones.

"GROUP MEETING NOW," read Storm's text. "LOGAN SAYS IT'S URGENT."

You both stared at the messages in horror.

"He wouldn't," Scott said.

Another text came through: "BRING BOTTLE OPENER."

"He would," you groaned.

Scott let his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. "Think it's too late to run away and join the Brotherhood?"

You patted his knee sympathetically. "Look on the bright side—at least we don't have to figure out how to tell everyone we're dating now."

"Is that what we're doing?" he asked softly, tension creeping back into his shoulders. "Dating?"

You took his hand, lacing your fingers through his. "Well, I'm not sharing my premium edibles with just anyone, Summers."

His laugh, warm and genuine, was worth whatever teasing awaited you downstairs. Though you did make a mental note to start keeping backup bottle openers in every room—just in case.The walk to the common room felt like a march to execution, though you weren't sure what was more nerve-wracking—the prospect of facing the team or the way Scott's hand kept brushing against yours, sending little electric shocks up your arm. You were still slightly high, which wasn't helping your anxiety levels.

"We could always say we were studying," you suggested halfheartedly as you approached the door.

Scott snorted. "Right. Because that's totally why my heart rate is through the roof right now."

"You know I can hear you both, right?" Logan's voice carried through the door, followed by several poorly suppressed snickers.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door. The entire team was sprawled across various furniture pieces, trying and failing to look casual. Storm sat perched on the arm of the sofa, hiding a smile behind her hand. Kurt was hanging upside down from the chandelier, his tail swishing with barely contained amusement. Even the Professor was there, though he at least had the grace to maintain his usual serene expression.

"So," Logan drawled from his position leaning against the fireplace, "now that our fearless leader and his... study partner have joined us, we can begin."

Scott's ears were turning red, but he maintained his composure, crossing his arms. "You called an emergency meeting just to—"

"Actually," Storm interrupted, her eyes twinkling, "we've been taking bets on when you two would finally figure it out. Jean's been insufferable about knowing for months."

"WHAT?" you and Scott exclaimed simultaneously.

"Please," Jean smirked from her corner. "You think I needed telepathy to see those pining looks? The sexual tension in the Danger Room was getting ridiculous."

"There was no sexual tension in the—" Scott started.

"Dude," Bobby cut in, "you made us run extra drills every time they wore those new training pants."

Your face felt like it was on fire. Scott's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.

"If we could return to the actual purpose of this meeting," the Professor interjected smoothly, though you swore you saw him slip Storm a twenty-dollar bill. "Logan has brought to my attention that we may need to discuss updating some of our... recreational policies."

"Oh god," you mumbled, sinking into the nearest chair. Scott remained standing, looking like he wished his optic blasts could open a hole in the floor to swallow him.

"Specifically," Logan continued, clearly enjoying himself, "the proper ventilation requirements for certain activities." He tossed your bottle opener in the air and caught it. "And maybe a discussion about sharing resources."

"I hate everyone in this room," Scott declared, but he finally sat down—right next to you on the loveseat, his thigh pressed against yours in a way that definitely didn't help your concentration.

"Even me?" you whispered.

His hand found yours between the cushions, hidden from view. "You're on thin ice," he murmured back, but his thumb stroking across your knuckles said otherwise.

"If you two are done having a moment," Logan interrupted, "we've got actual business to discuss. Like how I'm not gonna play delivery man every time someone needs party supplies."

"Wait," Kurt's eyes widened, his tail stopping mid-swish. "Is THAT why Scott's always so relaxed during movie nights?"

"Moving on," the Professor said firmly, but there was definite amusement in his voice. "Perhaps we should discuss the upcoming mission to—"

"Nuh uh," Storm cut in. "We're not changing subjects until they tell us how long this has been going on. I've got money riding on this."

You exchanged a look with Scott, and something in his expression made your heart flutter. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the edible, or maybe it was just that the secret was out anyway, but you felt a surge of boldness.

"Well," you announced, "officially? About six hours. Unofficially..." you squeezed Scott's hand, "probably since that time he tried to teach me to ride his motorcycle and we ended up in the lake."

"HAH!" Bobby jumped up. "That was eight months ago! Pay up, everyone!"

Money started changing hands around the room as Scott turned to you, eyebrows raised above his visor. "The lake incident? Really?"

You shrugged, feeling your face heat up. "You gave me your jacket, and your hair was all wet, and you had this little smile... it was a whole thing."

"If it helps," he said softly, ignoring the chaos of bet-settling around you, "I started falling for you way before that. Remember when you brought me soup during that mission planning session and told me I was being an idiot for skipping meals?"

"That was over a year ago!"

"Yeah, well," he smiled that rare, soft smile that made your insides melt, "apparently I'm slow to catch on."

"Oh my god, they're even worse now," Logan groaned. "I'm gonna need stronger beer."

But you barely heard him, too caught up in the way Scott was looking at you, in the realization that all those moments you'd treasured, all those little interactions you'd overthought—he'd been feeling it too. The team's teasing faded into background noise as Scott's thumb traced patterns on your palm, each touch a quiet promise of more moments to come.

"So," you whispered, "your room next time?"

His answering grin was worth every bit of embarrassment the evening had brought. "It's a date."

"If you two are done making heart eyes at each other," Storm called out, "we actually do have a mission to discuss."

Scott straightened, slipping into leader mode, but his hand stayed firmly entwined with yours. And if the mission briefing took longer than usual because people kept making poorly concealed jokes about "joint operations" and "higher planning"—well, you found you didn't mind so much anymore.

Sometimes the best things in life came with a side of merciless teasing from your found family. And maybe, you thought as Scott's thumb brushed across your knuckles again, that made them even better.

The mission had left you both battered and exhausted, more emotionally than physically. Your uniform still bore scorch marks from a too-close call, and Scott's jaw hadn't unclenched since you'd boarded the Blackbird for the flight home. The loss of civilians always hit him the hardest, even when there was nothing more any of you could have done.

You found yourself following him to his corner suite without discussion, neither of you wanting to be alone. The sun had long since set, casting the mansion in quiet shadows. His room was exactly as you'd expected—meticulously organized, minimalist, but with small touches that were purely Scott: a worn paperback on the nightstand, a framed photo of the original team, his leather jacket hung carefully by the door.

"Shower's yours if you want it," he offered quietly, already shrugging off his tactical vest.

You shook your head. "You first. I'll raid your dresser for something clean."

He paused, then nodded, disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the silence as you borrowed one of his soft grey t-shirts and a pair of track pants that you had to roll at the waist several times.

When he emerged, hair damp and wearing sleep clothes, some of the mission's tension had eased from his shoulders. He'd switched his visor for his sleeping goggles—the ones you'd helped him modify last winter to be more comfortable.

"Better?" you asked softly.

He crossed to where you sat on the edge of his bed, cupping your face in his hands. "Getting there," he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. "Today was..."

"I know." You pulled him closer, letting him wrap his arms around you, holding on as if to assure himself you were really there. "But we made it. We're here."

His fingers traced the edge of the scorch mark on your borrowed shirt. "When I saw that blast coming toward you—"

"Hey." You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips. "I'm okay. We're okay."

He exhaled shakily, then kissed you with a gentle desperation that made your heart ache. You responded in kind, trying to pour all your understanding and comfort into the contact. When you finally parted, his breathing was unsteady.

"Stay?" he whispered. "Just... stay with me tonight?"

"Always," you promised, shifting to make room as he pulled back the covers.

You settled into his arms, your back against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your spine. His arm draped protectively around your waist, hand splayed across your stomach, thumb tracing idle patterns that made you shiver.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your hair.

You laced your fingers through his. "More than okay." After a moment, you added with a slight smile, "Though Logan's probably going to have opinions about our sleeping arrangements at tomorrow's training session."

His quiet laugh rumbled through your back. "Logan can deal with it." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "I need this. Need you."

The simple honesty in his voice made your breath catch. You turned in his arms to face him, tracing the line of his jaw. "You've got me, Scott. For as long as you want me."

His answer was another kiss, deeper this time, full of unspoken promises and growing heat. Your hands found their way under his shirt, mapping the warm skin of his back as he drew you closer.

The world outside could wait until morning. For now, there was just this—the quiet sanctuary of his room, the comfort of being held, and the knowledge that whatever tomorrow brought, you'd face it together.

The first time you heard it, you were breaking up a disagreement between two students in the hallway. Scott had arrived moments after you, arms crossed, wearing what the kids called his "Dad Face"—stern but concerned, ready to dispense both discipline and guidance.

"Sorry, Mom, sorry, Dad," one of the students had muttered automatically, then frozen, eyes widening in horror at what they'd just said.

You'd maintained your composure until the students scurried away, then dissolved into laughter against Scott's shoulder. "Did we just get parent-zoned by the junior class?"

But it didn't stop there. Somehow, it spread through the school like wildfire.

"Mom! Bobby froze my homework again!" became a common complaint in your classroom.

"Dad's giving the disappointed face in combat training" was whispered in hallways whenever Scott had to correct someone's form.

Now, weeks later, you were grading papers in the library when Scott dropped into the chair beside you, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Three different students asked me if they were grounded today. I wasn't even disciplining them."

You tried to hide your smile. "Well, you were wearing your navy sweater. That's definitely peak dad energy."

"I like this sweater," he protested, then paused. "Wait, is that my cardigan you're wearing?"

"Maybe." You tugged the borrowed garment closer. It still smelled like him. "I'm just leaning into the mom aesthetic. Besides, you never wear it."

"Because someone keeps stealing it." But his mock annoyance was betrayed by the way he reached over to fix the collar, his fingers lingering against your neck.

"Mr. Summers! Ms.—oh gross, they're being cute again," came Jubilee's voice from behind a bookshelf. "I'm telling Logan our parents are making out in the library."

"We're not—" Scott started, but she was already gone, the sound of her laughter echoing down the hall.

You couldn't help chuckling at his flustered expression. "You have to admit, it's kind of sweet they see us that way."

"Sweet wasn't exactly what I was going for when I became a teacher here," he grumbled, but there was a softness in his voice.

"No? The great Cyclops didn't dream of being the world's most responsible dad figure?" You reached up to smooth his perpetually wayward hair. "Because you're kind of nailing it with the whole protective, supportive, slightly nerdy—"

He cut you off with a kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other steadied himself on your chair. You melted into it, papers forgotten, until—

"Ugh, LOGAN! They're doing it again!"

You broke apart to find Kitty's head sticking through a bookshelf, looking thoroughly scandalized.

"That's it," Scott declared, standing and pulling you up with him. "Field trip. Everyone's running laps."

"But Daaaad," Kitty whined, then phased fully through the shelf with a grin. "Does this mean we're getting a little brother or sister?"

You'd never seen Scott turn quite that shade of red before.

"Twenty laps!" he called after her retreating form. "And tell your friends thirty if they make any more comments!"

You tugged him back down into his chair, laughing at his flustered expression. "You know that's just going to encourage them more, right?"

He groaned, letting his head fall onto your shoulder. "How did this become my life?"

"Well," you mused, running your fingers through his hair, "you did decide to date the cool teacher. The one who lets them eat snacks in class and doesn't give pop quizzes."

"The one who enables their sugar highs and constantly undermines my authority, you mean?" But he was smiling now, that soft smile reserved just for you.

"Exactly. Face it, Summers, you're stuck being the strict parent. Someone has to maintain order around here."

He lifted his head to look at you, and something in his expression made your heart skip. "Yeah?" he said softly. "And how long do you plan on being the fun parent?"

The weight of the question hung in the air between you. "Well," you managed, throat suddenly tight with emotion, "I did help you reorganize your closet by color last weekend. I think I'm pretty committed to this co-parenting gig."

His laugh was warm and full of promise as he pulled you closer. "Good. Because I'm pretty sure the kids would stage a revolt if Mom left."

"Just the kids?" you teased.

"Well," he murmured, leaning in, "Dad might have some opinions about it too."

"Oh my god, AGAIN?" came Bobby's voice from somewhere behind you. "Logan! MOM AND DAD ARE—"

"FIFTY LAPS!" Scott shouted, but he was laughing as he said it, and when he kissed you again, neither of you cared who saw.

After all, every family had its quirks. Yours just happened to include superpowers, teenage mutants who called you Mom and Dad, and a perpetually exasperated Logan who kept threatening to send you both to parenting classes.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

You hadn't meant to ruin the rare day off. The local pool had seemed like a perfect escape from the summer heat, and seeing the younger students so excited about a normal afternoon out had been worth all the preparation and permission slips. But now you sat on the edge of your bed, still in your damp swimsuit with Scott's t-shirt hastily pulled over it, trying to pretend your hands weren't shaking.

The knock at your door was gentle. "Hey," Scott's voice carried through. "Can I come in?"

You made a noncommittal sound that he correctly interpreted as yes. He entered, still in his swim trunks and the long-sleeve rashguard he wore to hide his more visible scars. The ruby quartz sunglasses he wore for public outings were pushed up into his damp hair.

"Logan's got the kids back at the mansion," he said softly, sitting beside you. "Storm's making hot chocolate, despite it being about ninety degrees out. Something about comfort requiring chocolate."

"They shouldn't have had to leave early," you mumbled. "They were having fun."

"They were more worried about you." His hand found yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We all were. When those people started saying those things..."

You tried to smile, but it felt wobbly. "Guess they weren't fans of the swimsuitl." You touched your sides self-consciously. "I should have known better."

"Hey." Scott's voice went firm. "Don't. Don't let them make you feel like you did anything wrong."

A soft thud against your window made you both look up. Kitty's face was pressed against the glass, rapidly fogging it up.

"Um," you managed, "did she just climb up three stories?"

Another face appeared beside hers – Kurt's. Then Bobby's head popped up from below.

Scott sighed, but you could see him fighting a smile. "I think we're about to have company."

Sure enough, Kitty phased through the wall, Kurt teleported in with his signature BAMF, and Bobby created an ice slide up to your window before climbing through.

"The others are coming up the normal way," Kitty announced, plopping down on your other side. "Like boring people."

"Because doors are for losers," Scott deadpanned, but his hand squeezed yours when you let out a small laugh.

As if on cue, your door opened again. Jean entered with a tray of Storm's promised hot chocolate, followed by Storm herself, Logan, and what looked like half the student body.

"This is not regulation dormitory capacity," you pointed out weakly as teenagers began filling every available surface in your room.

"Screw regulations," Logan growled, leaning against your dresser. "We're having a family meeting."

"About?" you asked, though the way everyone was looking at you made it pretty obvious.

"About how we're gonna show those jerks that nobody messes with our mom," Jubilee declared from her perch on your desk.

"Language," Scott said automatically, then added, "But she's not wrong."

"We could ice their cars," Bobby suggested.

"Or I could accidentally cause a small rain cloud to follow them around," Storm mused, looking far too innocent as she handed you a mug of cocoa.

"No revenge plots," Scott said firmly, though you noticed he didn't sound entirely convinced. "We're better than that."

"Says the guy who was about to blast their windshield," Logan muttered.

"You what?" you turned to Scott, who had the grace to look slightly sheepish.

"I was... considering it," he admitted. "The way they looked at you, the things they said..." His jaw clenched. "Nobody talks to someone I love like that."

The room went suddenly, suspiciously quiet. You realized it was the first time he'd used that word – love – even though you'd both been dancing around it for months.

"Aww," Kitty sighed, breaking the silence. "Dad's getting sappy."

"Can we focus?" Scott's ears had turned red. "We need to discuss how to handle situations like this in the future, as a team."

"Already handled," Jean spoke up. "I may have... suggested to the pool management that they might want to review their discrimination policies. Telepathically. Very thoroughly."

"And I might have mentioned that my law firm would be very interested in hearing about any future incidents," Ororo added casually.

"Plus, we're totally starting our own pool club here," Jubilee announced. "Better than their stupid public pool anyway. We can do cool mutant stuff without boring people complaining."

"Yeah!" Bobby brightened. "I can make the best water slides!"

"And I can heat the water!" John called from somewhere in the back.

"Absolutely not," Scott said quickly. "No combining powers without supervision, we've talked about this."

You couldn't help but laugh at the familiar chaos, the tightness in your chest finally starting to ease. Looking around your overcrowded room at these people – your family – you felt the day's hurt beginning to fade.

"Thank you," you said softly. "All of you."

Scott's arm slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Always," he murmured against your temple. Then, louder, "But everyone out of this room in five minutes. There are actual fire codes we're violating right now."

"Ugh, Dad's back in teacher mode," Kitty groaned, but she was smiling as she started herding younger students toward the door.

As the room slowly emptied, people stopping to hug you or offer final declarations of support, you leaned into Scott's side. "So," you said quietly, "love, huh?"

He turned to face you fully, one hand coming up to trace your [mutation feature] with gentle fingers. "Yeah," he said simply. "Love."

"Even with all this?" you gestured vaguely at yourself.

"Because of all of it," he corrected. "Every part of you. Anyone who can't see how beautiful you are is an idiot."

You kissed him then, pouring all your gratitude and returning love into it, not caring that there were still students in the room.

"Gross," Logan commented from the doorway. "Come on, kids, let's give your parents some privacy. But Summers? Next time someone gives her trouble, you better not stop me from showing them why they call me Wolverine."

"Next time," Scott replied, not looking away from you, "I might help."

As the door closed behind the last of your impromptu support group, you snuggled closer to Scott. "Our family's kind of intense," you observed.

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But would you have it any other way?"

Looking around your room at the evidence of their visit – scattered cocoa mugs, a few ice crystals from Bobby's entrance, scorch marks on your ceiling from Jubilee's enthusiastic gesturing – you smiled. "Not a chance."

Sometimes the worst moments led to the best reminders of what really mattered. And what mattered was right here – in a too-crowded school full of mutant teenagers who called you Mom, a team that would face down any threat to protect their own, and a man who loved every part of you, even the parts others couldn't understand.

"Hey Scott?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you too."

His smile was brighter than any summer day, and worth every challenge that came with being who you were.

#xmen x reader #x men #x men 97 #scott summers #scott summers x reader #cylcops #cylcops x reader #logan is a little shit #logan is the AWESOME uncle #found family #fluff #suggestive

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