#I wonder if she had anything to do with it all or if she just knew from Silverwolf's script and is fucking with us

[xjulixred45x]

Imagine an adult Yuu who arrived at Twisted Wonderland PREGNANT.

This could be considered part of the Yuu! Parent variables (?). Perhaps the poor woman was returning from an early ultrasound (at 2 or 3 months old) when the black carriage hit her, scaring her to death upon her appearance in TWST. She must have thought she was about to be sacrificed to a cult.

I can definitely imagine the Squad characters being much more understanding/soft of this Yuu, especially Ace and Deuce. Ace wouldn't be so malicious at the beginning of the game (I'd like to believe that not even he would be capable of laughing in the face of a pregnant woman), and instead feels obvious guilt because Crowley has entrusted her with a mediocre job.

Deuce, my sweet boy, will set off all his alarm bells. He's the most outraged that the headmaster is forcing a pregnant woman to work ALONE, and if his dorm leader hadn't been so strict in the beginning, he definitely wouldn't let Yuu sleep in a dorm that's falling apart. Has Crowley gone crazy? Does he have no shred of decency?!

Grim probably thought at first that Yuu had eaten her baby, haha, and had to receive the wonderful "birds and the bees" lecture (much to Ace's amusement at Grim's horrified reactions). Let's just say Grim now insists on standing sentry in case Yuu decides to do anything too "dangerous for the baby" (humans are fragile even with magic; he has to take care of his minion!).

Jack, bless him, also tries to help make the ramshackle dorm safer alongside Epel, whether by removing the most rotten parts of the structure, helping clean, assisting with Yuu's errands, etc. Especially when she starts showing more of her bump.

GOD, IMAGINE THE DORM LEADERS!

Riddle was probably the only one who didn't realize Yuu was pregnant until the events of the Savanaclaw episode. And when he found out he almost seriously hurt a PREGNANT WOMAN? Trey and Cater practically had to keep him from banging his head against a wall for half an hour out of embarrassment and shame. He also drafted a LONG apology for Yuu, which was delivered with a giant strawberry cake (and one of those exaggerated bows I KNOW Riddle would do).

Thanks to his mom (for once in his life), Riddle is the most knowledgeable about useful pregnancy stuff! Whenever Yuu goes to Heartslabyul, she has access to calcium- and iron-rich meals (prepared by Trey), and teas that boost her immune system and combat morning sickness. Riddle is careful not to give her things like black tea or rosemary tea, knowing they could have negative effects (if it were up to Riddle, Yuu probably wouldn't walk unaided).

Leona is much more respectful to a female Yuu, we know that, but I don't think he has the energy to be rude, or be especially , well, Leona, to a PREGNANT woman. This ends up bringing out a side of Leona no one thought existed: an almost delicate side. Sure, he's still lazy and sarcastic, but he doesn't say no to Yuu when she asks for help with something, whether it's bringing something to her dorm or dealing with a difficult situation. he dosent even COMPLAIN. what did he do to the real Leona??

We all know Crowley doesn't give Yuu and Grim enough money to live comfortably, let alone considering they could soon have a new member on ramshakle. Yuu is now surprised to find extra money in the dorm after certain visits. Not that he'll admit it, but it makes everyone feel more at ease.

Again, I want to believe Azul wouldn't be capable of leaving a pregnant woman homeless, at the very least he offered her a place to stay in Octavinelle. It turns out the twins (especially Floyd) quickly took a liking to Yuu.

A cute scenario I came up with, when Yuu already has a prominent baby bump, is that she tries to joke with the Leechs that the nickname "shrimpy" doesn't suit her anymore, and that maybe they should change it to "whaley."

AND FLOYD IS LIKE, "Why are you saying that, Koebi-chan? :( Is someone calling you that? Come on, tell me :)"

I think the Octavinelle folks genuinely don't know how human pregnancy works, so they're surprisingly gentle and caring with Yuu (even when the baby is born, I can see Monster Lounge having a kids' menu for them).

Kalim, my god, Jamil is going to have to stop him from giving Yuu a completely equipped nursery for both her and the baby. Ironically, the one who's the most normal about pregnancy (the guy has 30 younger siblings, so he KNOWS about these things) and genuinely knows some home tricks that helped his mother when she was pregnant.

offers to organize a baby shower/gender reveal party! The bad thing is that it ends up being a whole festival with all of Scarabia participating. But hey, it's the thought that counts.

There's no way Yuu, who's already 6-7 months along, will wear the school uniform simply for comfort, so if you need help finding comfortable AND cute clothes, Vil will gladly help! Obviously, he's not as strict or harsh with Yuu due to the circumstances, but he still wants the best for her. Who knows, maybe they can pick out some clothes for the baby in advance.

Idia is afraid to get close to Yuu, not only because of social anxiety, but because of the thought that he might "ruin" the baby in some way. He needs a lot of support from Ortho and Yuu to even allow himself to have normal physical contact with Yuu, and just as he does, the baby kicks. Idia's heart is gone (everyone wants to feel the kicks now, especially Ace, Floyd, and Malleus).

They probably use some STYX or Ortho equipment for some of the baby checks, and he even gives an approximate due date, which feels bittersweet. Even if everyone does their best, Yuu still hoped to have his baby at home, but he doesn't complain when the boys do all this for them. It feels like Home.

Malleus is another who doesn't fully understand human pregnancy and is incredibly intrigued. It doesn't help that Lilia's answers to his questions are even more confusing, so he ends up going straight to the source of his intrigue, Yuu. Malleus is completely mesmerized the first time he hears the baby's heartbeat, completely fascinated by what human life is like compared to fairies/dragons.

That said, he proceeds to "scold" the baby when it kicks Yuu for "hurting its mother," not quite understanding the concept, but he has the spirit. Malleus is very scared of the idea of childbirth once he's educated on it (WHERE will the baby come out? HOW!?) and will probably try to improve his healing magic SOLELY because of that.

All I can say is that if the baby is born in Twisted Wonderland, they'll have a wide array of adoptive siblings, father figures, babysitters, and weird and eccentric uncles who will take very good care of them and its mother. So you can rest easy.

__________

(ESPAÑOL)

Imagínate una Yuu adulta que llego a Twisted Wonderland estando EMBARAZADA

Esto podría considerarse parte de las variables de Yuu! Parent(?)Talvez la pobre mujer estaba regresando de un ultrasonido de los primeros meses (2 o 3 meses) cuando el carruaje negro le paso por encima, dándole un susto de muerte cuando apareció en TWST. La pobre mujer debio pensar que estaba a punto de ser sacrificada a un culto.

Definitivamente puedo ver a los personajes del Squad mucho mas suaves con esta Yuu, especialmente Ace y Deuce. Ace no sería tan malicioso al principio del juego (digo, quiero creer que incluso el no seria capaz de reírse en la cara de una mujer embarazada) y más bien siente una obvia lastima de que Crowley le haya metido en un trabajo mediocre.

Deuce, mi dulce niño, le disparan todas las alarmas. Es el más obviamente indignado de que el director haga trabajar a una mujer embarazada SOLA, y definitivamente si su líder de dormitorio no fuera tan estricto al principio, no dejaría que Yuu durmiera en un dormitorio que se cae a pedazos ¿¡que acaso Crowley perdió la cabeza, no tiene el mínimo de decencia?!

Grim probablemente al principio pensó que Yuu se había comido a su bebe lol, y le tuvieron que dar la maravillosa charla de las “aves y las abejas” (para diversión de Ace por las reacciones horrorizadas de Grim). Solo digamos que ahora Grim insiste en actuar como centinela en caso de que Yuu se le ocurra hacer algo demasiado “peligroso para él bebe” (los humanos son frágiles aun si magia ¡tiene que cuidar a su secuaz!).

Jack, bendito sea, también trata de ayudar en hacer el dormitorio destartalado mas seguro junto a Epel, ya sea quitando las partes mas podridas de la estructura, ayudando a limpiar, ayudar con los mandados de Yuu, etc. Especialmente cuando empieza a mostrar mas la panza de embarazada.

DIOS, IMAGINENSE LOS LIDERES DE DORMITORIO.

Riddle probablemente fue el único que no llego a darse cuenta que Yuu estaba embarazada hasta los eventos del capítulo de Savanaclaw ¿y cuando se enteró que casi lastimo gravemente a una MUJER EMBARAZADA? Trey y Cater tuvieron que físicamente detenerlo de que se golpeara la cabeza contra la pared por media hora por la vergüenza, también redacto un documento LARGUISIMO de disculpa a Yuu, que fue entregado con una gran tarta de fresa (y una de esas reverencias exageradas que SE que Riddle haría).

¡Gracias a su madre (por una vez en la vida), Riddle es el que sabe más de cosas útiles para el embarazo! Cada vez que Yuu va Heartslabyul, tienen acceso a comidas nutritivas en calcio y hierro (hechas por Trey), Tés beneficiosos para el sistema inmune y para combatir las náuseas matutinas, aparte de que Riddle es cuidadoso de no dar cosas como Te negro o romero, sabiendo que podrían tener malos efectos (si fuera por Riddle, Yuu probablemente no caminaría sin ayuda).

Leona es bastante más respetuoso con una Yuu mujer, eso lo sabemos, pero no creo que tenga la energía para ser grosero o especialmente, bueno, Leona, con una mujer EMBARAZADA. Esto termina sacando un lado que nadie creía que existía de Leona, un lado casi delicado. Claro, sigue siendo perezoso y sarcástico, pero no le dice que no a Yuu cuando le pide ayuda en algo, ya sea llevar algo a su dormitorio o con una situación difícil.

Todos sabemos que Crowley no da ni de lejos el dinero suficiente para que Yuu y Grim vivan bien, mucho menos pensando que PODRIAN TENER UN NUEVO INTEGRANTE PRONTO, por lo que Yuu ahora se sorprende después de ciertas visitas, aparece algo de dinero extra en el dormitorio. No es como que lo vaya a admitir, pero todos están más tranquilos de esa forma.

De nuevo, quiero creer que Azul no sería capaz de dejar sin hogar a una mujer embarazada, aunque sea le ofrecería una estancia en Octaville, ya que, además, resulta que los gemelos (especialmente Floyd) se encariñaron con Yuu muy rápido.

Un escenario lindo que se me ocurrió, ya cuando Yuu tiene una panza de embarazada prominente, es que ella trata de bromear con los Leech de que el apodo “camarón” ya no le queda bien, y que a lo mejor tendrían que cambiarlo a “ballena”

Y FLOYD ESTA COMO “¿Por qué dices eso Koebi-chan?  ¿alguien te está diciendo asi? Vaaaamos, dímelo ”

Creo que genuinamente los de Octaville no saben muy bien cómo funciona el embarazo terrestre, por lo que son sorprendentemente gentiles y cuidadosos con Yuu (incluso cuando nace el bebe, puedo ver el Monstre Louge teniendo un menú infantil para ellos).

Kalim, dios mio, Jamil tendrá que detenerlo de regalarle a Yuu absolutamente toda una guardería completamente equipada tanto para ella como para el bebe. Irónicamente el que es el mas normal al respecto del embarazo (el man tiene 30 hermanos menores, el SABE de estas cosas) y genuinamente sabe algunos trucos caseros que le sirvieron a su madre cuando ella estaba embarazada.

¡ofrece organizar un baby shower/ fiesta de revelación de genero! Lo malo es que termina siendo todo un festival en el que participa todo Scarabia. Pero hey, la intención es lo que cuenta.

No hay forma en la que estando ya en los 6-7 meses Yuu use el uniforme de la escuela por simple cuestión de comodidad, por lo que si necesitan ayuda en encontrar ropa cómoda Y bonita ¡Vil le ayudara con gusto! Obviamente no es tan estricto ni duro con Yuu debido a las circunstancias, pero sigue queriendo lo mejor para ella. Quien sabe, talvez puedan elegir algo de ropa para él bebe de adelantado.

Idia tiene miedo de acercarse a Yuu, no solo por la ansiedad social, sino por la idea de que podría “arruinar” al bebe de alguna forma. Necesita mucho apoyo de Ortho y Yuu para siquiera permitirse tener contacto físico con Yuu de forma normal, y justo cuando lo hace, el bebe patea. A Iidia se le salió el alma del cuerpo (ahora todos quieren sentir las pataditas, sobretodo Ace, Floyd y Malleus).

Probablemente usan algo de equipo de STYX o Ortho para algunos controles del bebe, incluso el da una fecha aproximada de nacimiento, lo cual da una sensación agridulce. Aun si todos hacen su mejor esfuerzo, Yuu esperaba poder tener a su bebe en casa, pero no se queja cuando los chicos hacen todo esto por ellos.

Malleus es otro que no entiende el embarazo humano completamente y esta increíblemente intrigado, no ayuda que as respuestas de Lilia a sus preguntas son aún más confusas, por lo que termina lleno a la fuente de su intriga, Yuu. Malleus se queda completamente hipnotizado la primera vez que escucha los latidos del bebe, totalmente fascinado por cómo es la vida humana en comparación a las hadas/dragones.

Eso sí, procede a “reprender” al bebe cuando patea a Yuu por “lastimar a su madre”, no entendiendo bien el concepto, pero tiene el espíritu. A Malleus le asusta mucho la idea del parto una vez que se educa al respecto (¿Qué el bebe saldrá DE DONDE? ¡¿COMO!?) y probablemente trate de mejorar en magia curativa UNICAMENTE por eso.

Solo puedo decir que si el bebe nace en Twisted Wonderland, tendrá un vasto abanico de hermanos adoptivos, figuras paternas, niñeros, tíos raros y extravagantes que lo cuidaran muy bien a él y su madre. Así que pueden estar tranquilos.

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[ceesimz]

roses

you want to make your first sant jordi together perfect for her.

“Ale?” You called out, hearing a hum from the vague direction of the lounge. 

You'd just arrived at her place, reluctantly waking up in separate apartments on a free Sunday in early April since Alexia had a family thing the night before, and you spent the evening at Ingrid’s with a few friends. Individually, both of you had a good time, but it wasn’t without a grumble from you at having to walk up alone. You slept better with Alexia beside you, somehow she helped with your sleeping problems better than anything else you had tried. Whether that be because she’s a naturally calm person and that seeps into you, putting you at ease, or having her there worked as a distraction since you always fall asleep drowning in each other’s arms or with her fingertips running up and down your back soothingly.

The night before, however, you didn’t sleep too well. Your mind wouldn’t shut off at all. But, it allowed you to do some thinking. And the next morning, you walked into her apartment with a plan of action.

She was, what would seem uncharacteristic to others but not to you at all, sprawled out on her sofa, all long limbs in an oversized navy Nike tracksuit. The girl was like a sloth sometimes, a description of her she didn’t appreciate, yet one you loved to tease her with. As you rounded the corner from the hallway, she dropped her phone against her chest and glanced up at you with a warm smile. The sight of her so happy to see you never got old.

“Bon dia.” She uttered with a content sigh, moving an arm behind her head as she watched you take off your jacket and slide your shoes off. Then, you headed over to her, and her smile got wider as she braced herself for you to lay on top of her. You didn’t, to her disappointment. You sat by her feet, a determined look on her face. “What’s up with you?”

“I need you to tell me everything I need to know about Sant Jordi.”

Well, that, the brunette wasn’t expecting.

“Why?” She asked curiously, sitting up a little to lean back on her hands, her eyebrows pressed down into a confused scowl. All she wanted was a hug, but here she was having to give a history lesson.

“Because you said it’s your favourite holiday. So I need you to tell me all about it, so that I can make plans for us.”

Your words offered her a hug instead; her heart fluttered in her chest at the demand from you. It was incredibly sentimental to her, so much so she felt her cheeks heat up the tiniest bit.

“You want to make plans for it?” Alexia wondered, eyebrows now raised with a hopeful smile on her face that she tried to disguise.

“Of course I do. It’s your favourite.” You repeated, replying to her question like the answer was obvious. Because of course you wanted to make her favourite day of the year live up to her standards, and more.

“Okay.” Alexia blinked as she looked at the seriousness on your face, trying to process what was happening. There were butterflies in her stomach, like she was a teenager after their first kiss. But no, it was just you, and your limitless thoughtfulness and compassion. It only made her love you more, made her more excited for the holiday to come, because it was her first with you and that was good enough for her without all the added extras you seemed set on adding. “Well, what do you want to know?” 

You pulled your phone out, opened up your notes, pressing on the already half-written page from your impromptu research the night before, and looked back up at her.

“Everything, Alexia.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at your response. Not at your dedication, because she found that outrageously endearing, but at how deadset on this you were. How deadset you were on making her feel loved, and that was something she treasured more than you could ever know.

“Only if you actually give me a hug first. Maybe a kiss too for extra motivation if I have to tell you everything.”

You rolled your eyes at her, though fell for it regardless. You dropped your phone and watched as she shuffled closer, visible excitement on her face as if she hadn’t kissed you a hundred times before. She sat up properly and held your face with her hands on the side of your head, leaning in so fast you almost clashed heads, but that was the last thing on your mind the moment her lips landed on yours. They were soft, like always, soft and familiar, and the way they moved against yours had you wondering why on earth you’d delayed the moment when you arrived. 

Until your thoughts trailed off from her and back to the task at hand.

“So,” You started as you pulled away from her mouth with a wet smack. Your phone was back in your hand and you were straight back to business before she’d even registered that you had broken it off. “Tell me about it.”

Her hands were still cradling your face, eyes on yours as she caught her breath back. You looked down at her, eyebrow raised as you waited for her to compose herself again. After she inhaled another deep breath, she searched your eyes to check for any ounce of doubt or sarcasm as she took a moment to realise… just how much it meant to her that you were offering this.

“You’re really serious about this?” She murmured a moment later, a sheepish expression on her face. 

“Yes. I am. It’s our first together, I want to get it right.” You admitted quietly, a slightly embarrassed red tinge to your cheeks as she beamed at you, her thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. She leaned in again, a gentler kiss this time, one that conveyed her adoration rather than any other meaning.

“That means so much to me.” She whispered against your lips when she pulled away. A soft smile formed on your face at her words, because they alone were worth it and you hadn’t even done anything yet. That was exactly why you were doing it.

“Can only do it if you tell me.” You teased, turning your head to kiss her palm.

Alexia chuckled gently, shifting to sit back against the sofa and wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into her a little. You turned slightly so that your back was to her shoulder and her hand slipped down to your chest, your own reaching up to link with hers and resting there. With a warmth in her chest, finally having you where she wanted you and a topic at hand where its future with you both excited her immeasurably, she was wholly content.

“I don’t even know where to start with it.” 

How could she explain it to you? The day spoke for itself. She hadn’t ever explained it to anyone before because it’d always just been there in her life, woven into April and she’d never known anything different. Now though, she had you, who hadn’t even heard of it until one movie night early on in your friendship where she rambled about it for twenty minutes straight when you asked if she liked Valentine’s Day. She had scoffed, to your confusion, before giving a hundred-and-one reasons why Sant Jordi was far superior due to the deep-rooted culture and everything else about it that fascinated her still, even after thirty years of it. Maybe you would have better knowledge of it, had you actually paid attention to what she was saying rather than how she looked. 

It wasn’t a holiday, exactly, more like the heartbeat of her city. A day where love drifted in the wind, swirling in the air, like oxygen, which it almost was. Nobody could survive without love and that’s what the day was about, always had been, since that time with the dragon and the rose that sprouted after. Since then, no matter what a person was going through, a simple rose was enough to put a smile on anyone’s face. Because a Sant Jordi rose wasn’t simple, it was more than just a tradition. It was love with roots, dating back centuries and sure to last for yet more to come. Giving a rose to you and receiving one from you on this day, to Alexia, meant that you had both chosen to love each other and wanted to tell so in the language of the place that meant everything to her. As she was explaining, she felt herself become giddy with excitement. It was hard to put it into words when all that was on her mind was you and roses and books and dragons and-

“You’re trailing off, Ale. Stay on topic.”

Right.

The brunette wholeheartedly believed there was never a more beautiful day in Barcelona than on Sant Jordi. There was a particular way the city softened then. Streets transformed from fast-moving busyness to slow streams of people stopping in their step, not out of obligation but from wonder. From actually pausing their life, taking a breath, and appreciating things they missed in daily life. Love, community, humanity. Something shifted in everybody during the holiday. Strangers smiled easily, weightless from their usual burdens, desperate to share the serenity they felt with others. Vendors with hundreds of the most gorgeous roses you could find handed them out willingly to everyone with the same care reserved for their loved ones, because that’s just what the day made you do. It was good, whilst also unfairly rare to have a reason to give beauty just for the sake of it. 

Deep down, maybe that’s why most people loved it. It was an excuse to share the pure sides of humankind in a world that lacked it so much.

And the way people showed these things was with the roses, yes, but books too. Alexia recalled her mother saying something to her when she was younger, where she had asked why it was books and roses, and her answer was ‘one for the mind, one for the heart.’ That memory came racing back to her, bringing a reminiscing smile to her face, before echoing it to you too. There was the legend of the knight and the dragon, of blood turned into rose, of course, but there was the celebration of two authors too, Cervantes and Shakespeare. So while the rose speaks of love, the book speaks of connection. To give one is just as precious as receiving one. It’s a gift of thought and attention, where someone has listened to another and decided on something that will resonate with them, whether it’s a topic about what they long for, what they fear, what they want to learn, or what they treasure. It’s sacred, in a way that’s different to the rose, but just as meaningful. 

The day was solely dedicated to care, to language, culture, and love. All the things that were most important to Alexia. She thought about it often in the weeks leading up to it, and apparently so did you. That gave her even more reasons, added to the already infinite list, of why you were her person.

“Wow.” You breathed out in awe when she finished, thumbs paused over your phone screen because you hadn’t quite expected her to go so in depth. She opened up to you about it, completely and honestly. You might be the worst person ever if you didn’t make it the best day of her life. 

“Yeah.” Alexia hummed, her ramble having caught herself off guard. But, sharing her adoration for the day with someone new, where she had to explain all the reasons she enjoyed it which she hadn’t really done out-loud before, simply reignited her love for it and made it stronger. “Was that… too much at once?”

You put your phone down, it being the last thing on your mind then, then turned around to face her. The midfielder seemed a bit shy, embarrassed even, and you had to change that.

“No. Never too much. You explained it a million times better than I thought you would. Thank you for sharing all that with me.” You told her, eyes wide and sincere as she met your gaze. She let out a small relieved sigh, before her lips widened into an admiring smile. 

“I can’t wait to spend it with you.” You gave a cheesy grin at her adorable comment, then got straight down to business.

“Who do you want to spend the day with?” You questioned, waiting for her answer expectantly as she frowned at you.

“You, obviously.” The midfielder answered.

“Okay, but I mean, don’t you want to see your family too? Some friends maybe? You don’t want to have lunch with Alba and your mother, dinner with your close friends, that kind of thing?” 

“No. Just you.” 

Oh. That took you by surprise a bit. You were flattered by her, and you couldn’t exactly hide it either with the way you blushed a moment or two after she spoke. She noticed and smirked at you, proud of her charm.

“Well, I still think we should visit Alba and Eli anyway, give them some roses.” You compromised, feeling a tad guilty for snatching your girlfriend away from her family.

“Sure.” Alexia shrugged. “As long as I get the whole day with you.”

“You will.” You mumbled under her piercing attention, her eyes unmoving from your face. “And where do you want to go together? What would you like us to do?”

It was then that she looked away. How could she say what she wanted to say without extinguishing your excitement?

“Let me take the lead on that. I know you want to surprise me, and you still can, but I want to show you to some of my favourite places, okay? I know all the good spots and I want to show you why I love them. I'd really like to share them with you.” You seemed to deflate at that, her wishes going against the rough plan you had for how this conversation would go, as well as Sant Jordi itself.

“But I want to surprise you, Ale.” You said dejectedly, which only made her smile. She leaned forward and kissed your cheek, hoping to cheer you up back into your good mood.

“I know, and I’ll let you. But I want to give you a good day too. Let me organise where we go, what we see, and you can do anything else you would like. Fifty-fifty.” She suggested, watching your reaction as you took a minute to think. After a moment or two, your eyes narrowed skeptically at her.

“Sixty-forty.” You bartered, which she laughed at. Nevertheless, she agreed.

“Fine.” 

Once that had been decided, she wrapped her arms back around you and pulled you into her. She nestled her head into your neck and dotted kisses up and down it, before settling comfortably on the couch with you in her hold as she smiled into your skin, with daydreams of the two of you on Sant Jordi clouding her mind.

—

Then the day arrived, finally. It felt like you’d waited an age for it. 

You were up as the sun rose, Alexia still away with the fairies in bed, and moving around the apartment as you checked your preparations for the millionth time. There was email after email on your phone, confirming your various orders of roses and their deliveries. Yellow ones for Ingrid, since she was your best friend and it felt wrong not to acknowledge how much you loved her on a day like today. Then some more for Jana and Aitana, who had helped you in planning and with where to get the best roses one could find in Barcelona, as well as their meaning. You felt endlessly grateful for everyone in your life, you’d give roses to them all if you could. 

However, your main focus was the sleeping form in your bedroom, whom you were about to make breakfast in bed for. On the menu for her, a smoked salmon omlette with traditional Catalan toasted bread, and a coffee. Simple, but her favourite for a day-off. Except it was her favourite when… she made it. It wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were going to give it a try, considering you wanted to surprise her. 

And it worked, it didn’t come out half bad, and just as you’d served it up onto a breakfast tray for her with a coffee from the ridiculously fancy espresso machine she didn’t need (and took you months to learn just how to turn it on), the door rang with the most important delivery for the day. Her roses. Perfect timing for you to pick one out, wrap a Senyera ribbon around it, and put it on the tray with her breakfast. 

She was still out for the count when you walked back in, on her side with an arm outstretched where you would lay, something that brought a smile to your face as you put the tray on her bedside table. You sat on the edge of the bed and gently nudged her shoulder, causing her to stir.

“Bon dia, Ale.” You whispered, hearing her usual grumble at being woken up before she naturally woke up. “Wake up, you’ve slept long enough.”

“Wow.” She huffed groggily, rolling onto her back and rubbing her face tiredly. As she did so, you leaned over and grabbed the rose, presenting it to her as she opened her eyes. Her grumpy expression faded instantly, replaced by one of shy gratitude as she reached out to take it. “Thank you, amor.” 

“Feliç Sant Jordi.” 

Sitting up properly, Alexia met you halfway as you leaned in with a hand on her thigh to steady yourself. A kiss full of tenderness, brimming excitement for the day ahead, was the best way to start her day. Even better? It was followed by breakfast cooked with care and a coffee brewed to perfection (you couldn’t take credit for that, it was the machine) that hit the spot for her. It was only early morning, and it was already her favourite one she’d celebrated so far.

“Happy first Sant Jordi.” Alexia grinned sleepily, gazing at you with an admiration like it was your first day on earth. “You did a good job with the rose, it’s beautiful.”

“I had some help.” You admitted sheepishly, to which she shrugged it off. 

“Don’t care. Still your brain behind it.” She murmured, leaning back in again to steal another kiss from you. “I love you. Love everything about you. Happier than ever with you.”

“Shut up, eat your food.” You blushed, cheeks burning as she smirked at you before reaching for her coffee. “I love you too.”

“I can’t wait for you to see the city later.” Her eyes had a look of childlike wonder in them as she thought of what waited for you both outside the walls of your apartment. Before that, she had some bigger priorities she needed to deal with. She swallowed her mouthful of coffee before addressing you with a desperate question. “Did you leave time fo-”

“Yes, I left time for us to spend in bed after breakfast. Hurry up and eat, then we’ll have longer.” 

The girl was nothing without lazy mornings in bed, wrapped up in each other. Neither were you.

—

A couple hours later, after time together in the peace of the bedroom and a quick trip to her mother’s, the pair of you were wandering the streets, hand in hand and taking in the relaxed nature of everyone that you passed. There was this mutual contentment which possessed each person that celebrated the holiday, something that you loved being around. You hadn’t even made it to the main parts Alexia wanted to take you to.

She looked different. More relaxed than you’d seen her. She was calm, fully in the moment, everything loud in her life far away from her mind. Not a second went by without a smile on her face, whether it be one that stretched across her cheeks or one that was simply an upwards quirk of her lip. You adored seeing her so happy, seeing how much she loved the day.

At first, the city didn’t seem too different. There were red petals scattered every few steps on the tiled ground, some fresh and some bruised, and there was something poetic about that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The sun had decided to come out too, only adding to the atmosphere around. But apart from that, everything seemed normal. Just the early stirrings of Barna waking up.

Until you got closer and closer to the very heart of the city, where you turned one corner, and the streets became something else entirely. It was a slow unravelling of everything the day embodied; each person had a rose and a wheat sprig with an unbridled smile on their face, there was stall after stall as you stepped foot onto Passeig de Gràcia, tin buckets filled with bouquet after bouquet of flowers, wooden tables creaking under the weight of the countless books stacked on them. It was unlike anything you had ever seen.

Barcelona truly did look like something out of a fairytale, just like your girlfriend had rambled about.

“This is the best place to be.” Alexia murmured into your ear as you paused to take in everything that was happening ahead of you.

And like every time she’d declared something before, she really wasn’t wrong.

Despite the crowds, you didn’t feel overwhelmed, because every single individual was sharing the same passion, celebrating the same traditions, holding their love to a higher importance. It was addictive, you wished everyday was like it. You would be more than happy, consider yourself lucky even, to live in this city for the rest of your life.

You moved slowly through the street, another ripple in the current of people fascinated like you were. The scent of roses was strong, how could it not be with how many hundreds there were in every square meter, with the metallic echo of scissors cutting stems each time a fresh flower was bought for someone that was treasured by their company. Honestly, that might have been your favourite thing about it, like Alexia had said; the love was so easily shared, each person so deeply valued, it didn’t matter that you were all strangers because it didn’t feel like it there. With the contagion of love in the area, you felt bonded to everyone that passed by you. It was a weird phenomenon to feel such a way, but you didn’t question it. No one questioned it. That’s just what Sant Jordi was, that was its pride.

Alexia had given you a rose after breakfast, having hid a bouquet for you out on her balcony. Even if you had expected it, it still did something to your heart as she handed it over to you. However, neither of you had exchanged books yet. You had a plan you kept to yourself, and so did Alexia. Yours was the first that came to fruition. 

One of her favourite authors had a stall that day where they were selling a new book Alexia had spoken about a number of times in the last few weeks. You had to, shamelessly, stalk her Amazon account to make sure she hadn’t pre-ordered it for herself. Fortunately, she didn’t, and the days since it was released ticked by without it suddenly making an appearance in her travel bag or on her coffee table. So when you saw the stall in question, the book standing out to you instantly on the table, you stopped the pair of you in place and turned to her with a beaming grin.

“Stay here.” You told her randomly, before rounding the corner and disappearing from her view. 

She frowned, a little suspicious, but did as you said regardless. As she waited, she saw a stall for fresh churros with chocolate off in the distance, mouth already watering as she thought of them. Anyway, just as you’d demanded, she stayed where she was until you came back, twiddling with the rose she’d tucked into the pocket of her jacket over her chest whilst she took in the surroundings. All that crossed her mind was that this truly felt like home. It grounded her, a reminder of where she came from and what she was representing on the global stage that football was. And she was proud to do that, indescribably so.

“Close your eyes, hold your hands out.” You appeared in front of her again, hands behind your back as you waited for her to follow through on your instructions. Once she had done as you said, you placed the book into her hands, the seller having even gone one step further and tying a red ribbon around the item too. “Open.”

The brunette looked down at the gift and let out a tiny gasp, glancing back up at you in slight disbelief. There was something about not only being heard and seen by people in her life, but having someone actually do something with all they learnt that landed inside her with a quiet kind of significance. 

“Mi amor.” She exhaled a shaky breath, a downturned smile on her face at the surprise. “Thank you. This is… thank you. You’re amazing.”

She drew you in for a tight embrace, there, in the middle of the avenue, where you couldn’t fend off the pleased grin that grew as a result of her reaction. Maybe she had wanted to buy it for herself which, to some, might have made it less of a surprise, but not to her. Things like this struck a chord within her, triggered that sentimental part of her that couldn’t ever really get over the fact people adore her so much they’d do something this thoughtful. 

“I had to muddle through the limited Catalan I know to get it but… luckily I know how to say that I need a gift for my hot g-” 

“Alright, you ruined it.” Alexia tutted, cutting you off with her words and a kiss that silenced your teasing pretty quickly. “You keep beating me to things, I need to step up my game.”

“God, you really have to turn everything into a competition.” You scoffed, to which she grinned and took hold of your hand again to start leading you both down the avenue.

“Of course. And I’m going to win myself back a goal by buying you the best churros you can find, right now.” 

Suddenly, the most sickeningly sweet scent you’d ever experienced invaded your senses and you had to hold in a groan at the deliciousness of it as she slotted you both into the queue. Churros had fastly become one of your favourite treats, but not something you indulged in often since, obviously, you were a footballer and they weren’t exactly the most nutritious things in the world. When else was a better time to share some with your girlfriend than on Sant Jordi? 

“You’re saying churros are better than your book?” You feigned a dejected expression and tone, feeling a tiny bit guilty at the panic on her face, but not when she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and grazed her lips against your temple.

“Never.” She reassured you, rolling her eyes when she heard you giggle. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Very lucky, it turned out, because she wasn’t lying when she said they were the best churros. For a little while longer, you walked along the avenue, your hand on her upper arm which held the cardboard tray, each of you picking from it every so often and laughing when some of the chocolate dripped down Alexia’s chin. You swiped it away with your thumb before letting her lick it off, not even ashamed about being that couple in public. You were in your own bubble, basking in the company and the devotion that thrived between you. It was quickly turning out to be one of your favourite days with her, maybe even ever in your life.

Shortly before you left Passeig de Gràcia, Alexia brought you to the place everybody wanted to see on Sant Jordi – Casa Batlló. It was front and center of the holiday, the photo that marked every headline in the news, and rightly so. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it. 

“Worth letting me plan the day, no?” Alexia joked quietly, standing behind you as you gazed up at the building. Her hands were low on your waist, thumbs stroking up and down. As the day ticked by, it got seemingly harder and harder for her to control her devotion, it was just overflowing from her.

“This place is amazing.” You stated in awe; the longer you looked at it, the more details you spotted. From that building alone, with so much history embedded into its architecture, was enough reason to love Sant Jordi. “I never knew all this about Barcelona and Catalunya when I joined.”

“Now you have me to show you. Every year, for the rest of our lives.” She spoke soothingly, the words meant for you and you only. This woman.

“Somebody is really in their feels today, huh.” 

You were joking about it, but the whole day it’d set you alight. Never had being in a relationship felt so right to you. You were certain that you hadn’t known love before her, and she was really taking advantage of the holiday to show exactly how she felt towards you. God only knows you were feeling the same about her.

“What better day to do it? I love you. Let me love on you.” She replied, raw, vulnerable, honest. Her openness was one of the things you adored most about her, she never shied away from saying exactly what was on her mind. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” 

With her hands that sat on your hips, she span you around to face her, drawing you in closer just a bit. Her gaze was intense, communicating things that you didn’t want to share with anyone else, wanting to keep it between the two of you. 

“Your book.” She said out of nowhere, dragging you out of your thoughts and back to the present. One hand slipped away, reaching behind her back and presenting a small book, small enough to fit in her jeans pocket. You scanned over it, not quite sure what it was. “It’s a poetry book in Catalan. A lot of my favourites, some that are really important to me. Some that I’ve shared with you before and some that I haven’t yet because they feel too special to speak aloud, too sacred to translate. I wanted you to read it because it’s everything I’ve never said. But it’s always been for you, about you. And, I don’t know, maybe you’ll read the things in there and… think of me.” 

You didn’t answer, not right away. You stared at her, then the book, and back to her. The object turned from something light, like a feather in your hands, to something heavy with a pulse. This was the closest she could get to giving you her heart.

No part of you could quite comprehend how esteemed and dear this gift was. Whether the crowds were dying down or you were just honed in on the book and your girlfriend, but it was like the world around you knew not to intrude on such a moment. Nothing ceased to exist outside this pocket of time where you stood, with the woman you love, in the city that raised her, and a piece of her soul in your possession. 

One deep breath, then two, before you blinked and a tear fell. You didn’t wipe it away. She did.

“I don’t know what to say, Ale.” You whispered as if afraid that a decibel higher would steal the memory away from you. “This is everything to me.”

You couldn’t believe she had chosen you to share this part of her with. 

“You’re everything to me. That’s what I wanted to show you.” Came her response, in a soft, dulcet tone. Her knuckle wiped away another tear. “Don’t cry outside of Casa Batlló, that is so guiri of you.” 

Her humour broke through your astonishment and caused you to burst out into tearful laughter, the brunette joining you instantly. You tucked the book against your chest, coincidentally right over your heart without even thinking, before rushing forward to get a hug from her. She accepted it immediately, leaning her forehead against your temple, her heart rate higher than ever from the nerves she felt at giving you her book. In that silence, punctuated periodically by your sniffles of disbelief, she held you. Like she always did. 

—

It was a miracle that the pair of you made it to the dinner you’d booked later that evening. You with your emotions and Alexia with her lack of restraint at keeping her hands to herself. 

You did make it, though, of which you were glad for. Not only because you were hungry after a day of walking and a few too many tears, but also because the restaurant you’d booked a table at was difficult enough to find a reservation for, nevermind on Sant Jordi too. It was one of Alexia’s favourites and yours too, a surefire way to cap off the day successfully. 

Neither of you could stand being away from each other for a second; had anyone been with you for the duration of the day, it would have been sickening for them to see. But you just didn’t care. You sat in the same side of the booth at dinner, either with hands linked, a hand on the other’s thigh, or knees touching as you used your cutlery, like a couple that hadn’t seen in each other a year, not one that had spent the last twelve hours constantly in each other’s company. Dinner was perfect, the company even better, and the aftermath back at home just to top it all off.

Together, you ended the night with a bath. A cliche, rom-com type setting, with low light and candles and glasses of champagne seated next to each other on the ledge of it. You had your back against her chest, her legs caging yours, with her arm around your waist. In her hand, the book you’d given her. In yours, the poems in her mother tongue you were slowly making your way through with a little help here and there. 

You wanted the day to last forever. 

Instead, midnight was drawing near, the water was cooling, and yawns kept sounding from the pair of you as you read your books. Eventually, you heard the gentle sound of Alexia closing her book echo through the bathroom, before she carefully dropped it to the tiled floor. Both her arms came to wrap around your torso then, her head ducking down to scatter kisses across your shoulder, back, neck, any bit of skin she could comfortably reach. Then, in a low, coarse, tired voice-

“Best Sant Jordi ever.” 

[overadores]

⋆˙⟡ must be love.

⋆˙⟡ pairing: manon bannerman x 7th!member reader ⋆˙⟡ about: it’s supposed to be a simple trip—just you, the snow, and a board beneath your feet, but then manon joins and suddenly, the air feels warmer. the silence feels louder. she says she wants to learn, but you’re starting to wonder who’s really teaching who. ⋆˙⟡ genre: fluff fluff fluff ⋆˙⟡ wc: 1.2k ⋆˙⟡ tune in: must be love by laufey ⋆˙⟡ a/n: as promised a fluff! not my best one tho, but i tried to make one T-T. I'll make another one cuz im not really satisfied with this. oh and i'll try to start on my smau hehe, and try to make a sabrina or jenna fic :D

It started with a Weverse post.

Just a photo of the chalet, half-covered in snow like powdered sugar dusted over gingerbread, with a lazy caption that barely hinted at anything: “Back home for a bit. Time to fall on my face snowboarding again ⛷️❄️”

Meant as a joke. Meant as a “don’t forget I exist” kind of thing.

I didn’t expect the flood of comments, or the stream of DMs from our fans. But most of all, I didn’t expect Manon to come knocking on my door five minutes later—literally, not metaphorically—still in her pajama pants, holding her phone like it had personally offended her.

“You didn’t think to invite me?” she said, pouting like I’d just eaten the last cookie.

I blinked at her, rubbing my eyes. “Invite you where?”

“Switzerland. Snow. Boards. You. What do you mean ‘where’?”

I laughed, thinking she was just teasing. But Manon wasn’t joking. She crossed her arms, stubborn. “You’re gonna teach me how to snowboard. That’s what’s happening. You promised once. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me.” “I’m dead serious,” she said. “You promised”

“I did?” I asked, still groggy.

She nodded, determined. “You did. On the tour bus. In Tokyo. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me how to snowboard.”

Of course she remembered. I vaguely did too. I probably said it in passing, like I always do when I’m too tired to filter myself. Still, I didn’t think she’d actually take me up on it.

But now she stood there with her bottom lip sticking out and her eyes all wide and serious and a duffle bag already packed behind her.

So I said yes.

The flight was quiet, save for the moments she kept humming the melody from one of our unreleased songs, except for the moment Manon fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled a little bit , but I didn’t mind. I kind of smiled to myself, tugged the blanket higher over her, and let her sleep. Switzerland in late winter was pure magic. The kind of cold that wakes you up without hurting. 

My family’s vacation home sat tucked away in the Swiss Alps like a secret. The house was warm with pine-scented candles and the fireplace my mom insisted on lighting even if it wasn’t that cold inside. My brothers dropped by to say hi, and Manon charmed them within minutes, laughing at their jokes, stealing bites of fondue, slipping into our little world so easily it almost hurt. I watched her make my older brother laugh until he cried. That was new.

She always had this way of doing that. Blending in, but somehow shining just a little brighter than everyone else.

We hit the slopes the next morning.

“Okay,” I said, strapping on my board and tightening my gloves. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

Manon looked up at me from where she was awkwardly trying to balance on her board, an innocent expression plastered across her face. “Not really, no. I mean, a little. I went skiing once. Does that count?”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s slippery snow things. Same vibe.”

“Right.” I laughed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

It wasn’t, though. Or rather—it was, but in the best way.

Manon pretended to be clueless, but I caught her adjusting her stance just a little too well. And every time I gave her advice, she already seemed to know what I was going to say. She let herself fall a lot, though. Mostly into me.

“Oops,” she’d say, her laugh muffled against my jacket.

“You totally did that on purpose.”

“Nooo,” she’d drawl. “Never.”

But the way she looked up at me from the snow, grinning like a devil in a beanie, told me otherwise.

After a few hours and a lot of falling—real or otherwise—we collapsed near the edge of one of the quieter trails, just past a ridge where the snow dipped into soft rolling hills. The sky was blushing pink, the sun slow and syrupy as it slid behind the peaks. I pulled off my gloves, breath fogging in front of me, cheeks flushed.

Manon flopped beside me in the snow, still laughing from her last fall. “Okay,” she said, rolling onto her back. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. I only almost died three times. That’s a win.”

I chuckled and stretched out next to her, watching the sky change. Everything was quiet up there. No fans, no cameras, no pressure. Just cold air and the smell of pine and the sound of her breath beside mine.

She turned to me, her hair a mess of curls escaping her hat.

“You really love it here,” she said softly.

I nodded, squinting up at the sky. “It’s the only place that doesn’t feel loud. It’s quiet without being empty. You know?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

We were quiet again, the kind that feels full instead of empty. I watched the sun kiss the snow golden. Manon was watching me.

Then she said it.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just—

“You’re really pretty when you’re not paying attention.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She sat up fast, panic flashing across her face. “Wait, I didn’t— That came out weird. I just meant— You look…happy. Here. It’s nice. You’re nice.”

I laughed. “You’re rambling.”

“I know,” she groaned, flopping back down. “Ignore me. It’s the altitude.”

But then, quieter: “I think I might be in love with you.”

The words were soft. No drama. No buildup. Just a quiet, accidental slip. Like she’d said it a million times in her head and finally forgot to keep it there.

I sat up slowly. My breath caught. “Wait, what?”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I did, but not like this. I know we say ‘I love you’ a lot in the group, but I don’t mean it like that. I mean—”

A pause.

“—not in a friendly way. I love you, and I didn’t plan on telling you, but you looked like that and it just sort of happened.”

I stared at her. My heart was thudding like a drum line in my chest.

She was looking everywhere but at me now, cheeks red—but maybe from the cold, maybe from everything else. I sat up slowly, brushing snow from my coat.

“Manon.”

She groaned. “Don’t. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just—”

“I love you too,” I said finally.

Her head snapped up. She blinked. “Like—?”

“Like,” I added, shifting so I was facing her directly, “not in the group, we’re-besties kind of way. I think I’ve been trying not to think about it. Maybe I didn’t want to mess things up. Pretending it was something else. But it’s not. It’s you.”

Manon blinked. “Oh.”

For a beat, neither of us moved.

And then we were laughing again — breathless, snow-damp, joy bubbling up in our chests like we didn’t know where else to put it..

She leaned in, slowly, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay.

I met her halfway.

Our lips were cold, noses red, teeth clinking a little from nerves and cold. But it was still perfect. It was real.

Somewhere in the distance, the sky melted from pink to lavender. The stars were just starting to wake up.

Later, when we walked back to the chalet, Manon’s glove slipped into mine. 

We didn’t say much. 

We didn’t need to.

She leaned her head against my shoulder as we trudged through the snow.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel the need to post about it.

Some things, I think, are just for us.

[merakiui]

I headcanon Georgina is head of the Leech family. She's known as a pretty brutal woman but has a soft spot for her sons.

She frequents a hole in the wall known bakery who's cakes and teas are just fabulous. She develops a friendly relationship with a waitress she hit it off with. They gossip for an hour every time she's there. Her darlingsons are a frequent point of discussion.

It's gets too the point your boss wants to tell you to get back to work, but the smile Mrs. Leech gives him is nothing short of menacing as she tells him this is just good customer service leave her be.

One day a bloodied individual is brought to her begging for his life. Saying he'd give her anything. His gambling debts had left him with little else other than a daughter. When Georgina looks at the provided photo it's her waitress!?

... Well who is she to squander such an opportunity.

You find yourself forced into a car on your way home from work. Georgina is there playing up how awful it is to have a father willing to sell his daughter to pay off his debts, but don't worry Mama Georgina will look out for you, all you have to do is one tiny favor and the debts will be considered repayed! You're practically shaking as it's just you and her in an elevator. Once you're at the top floors penthouse you're shoved out, falling into the arms of twins you recognize from her pictures.

Mama leech hits the button to go back to the lobby "Be gentle with the poor thing..." she gives her sons a smile that basically says:

"I want a positive pregnancy test in hand by the end of the week."

Ohhhhh….. orz orz that’s perfect,,,

Forming a bond with her favorite waitress and it pays off in her favor when your terrible father owes a serious debt. She’s so seamless with her motherly manipulation, sympathizing so sweetly to your circumstances, and insisting she’s here to help you. Even though it does nothing to ease your anxieties, considering your father essentially used you as compensation for his debt. >_< for the first time since you met her, you don’t trust the “sincerity” in her smile.

Nor do you quite understand what she means when she tells her beloved sons to “be gentle.” You’re immediately scared. They’re so tall and strong-looking, and their razored grins are too intimidating. You realize what’s happening when they’re guiding you to a bed, promising to treat you nicely just as their mama asked them to~

Suddenly, you’re resisting. You don’t want this! You’ve never had sex before and if you ever were to you always imagined your first time to be full of love and sweetness. This is nothing like this as your legs are pried apart and they tell you you’re cute when you squirm. You’re so scared. This isn’t what you want, but it’s what you must do because you were practically handed on a silver platter to them. ;;;

It’s impossible to hold back your moans, too. You try your hardest, but that just makes them even more determined to unravel you. One of them eats you out with a long, skilled tongue while the other teases your nipples. You cry out when you’re stretched open on a cock that feels too-big, choking on the other stuffed into your mouth. They’re mating pressing you into the sheets to ensure you won’t waste a single drop of cum. >:) that way you’ll be mothering a child or two (or three) in the near-future.

Mama Leech simply adores you. She knew you’d be a perfect match for her darling boys. And it’s a wonderful thing they seem to like you just as much.

[mirclealignr]

for the better | james potter [7.7k]

james potter x fem!slytherin!reader

requested by anonymous wherein james’ love for harmful pranks is the one thing that keeps y/n and james divided.

warnings; alcohol & food consumption, swearing, james being a bit james, mentions of someone like drowning a bit, she / her pronouns used for the reader.

a/n: i’m not really confident on the actual quality of my writing here or this fic at all really, but oh well. have it anyway xxx

James Potter elicited conflicting sentiments from Y/N. He could be selfish, conceited, and aggravating but, in spite of that, he could also be considerate, charming and amiable. Nevertheless, his fondness for immature pranks could infuriate her to the ends of the Earth. He and his friends could oftentimes overdo it, push it much too far, and Y/N could never understand the enjoyment they experienced from humiliating others. 

But on the other side of it, the side where James Potter could charm her into almost anything, she saw the sense of fun he sought from everyday life. She saw the young man who thought deeply about things, who could plan meticulously, who was strangely organised and clean. She saw someone who could make her feel as if the only adoration he relished was her own.

But, still, Y/N maintained her vigilance. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” called James, spotting her amongst the littered students of the Sunday morning breakfast rush.

Y/N stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall and exhaled, turning around to see the cocky grin stretching across James Potter’s face. With a quick sarcastic smile in return she continued on her way to the Slytherin table without so much as a word. 

She could barely admit to herself that she hoped he would follow. 

“Oi!” James called after her. “Can’t get away that easily, Y/L/N.”

James delighted in the thrill of the chase. 

“What do you want, Potter?” Y/N rolled her eyes, turning to face him before she reached her friends who would tease her endlessly for entertaining him in the first place.

James caught up to her with a little jog, ignoring the Slytherins giving him a distasteful eye as he whisked past them. 

He shook his hair about, letting it fall back into its natural place. “Er, just wondering if you’d…started the Potions assignment yet,” he shrugged, clearing his throat. 

“Really, James? You wanted to know if I had started the Potions assignment, due tomorrow, that much?” She cocked an eyebrow. 

Well, of course not, James thought. He just wanted to talk to you. “Yeah, thought you could give me some pointers, if you had.”

She shook her head, strolling further down into the Great Hall, avoiding her friends’ mocking stares. “Yes, I’ve finished it, actually. And no, why don’t you ask Remus?” 

“Lost a bet with him. Can’t get any help off him for another two weeks,” admitted James, sighing.

“Well, you’ll have to find someone else, then. Or just…do it yourself?”

James feigned a breaking heart and winced. “You’d do that to me?”

“You’re more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, Potter. Now piss off, I want to eat.”

James stood still.

“Go on!” She shooed. 

This time, he scurried off, obeying his instruction. But when he reached Sirius, Remus and Peter, he was not himself. They could spot it immediately and their eyes honed in on the Y/N across the Hall laughing with her friends. They turned quizzically back to James who was more than happy to reveal the reason behind his altered demeanour.

“She complimented me,” James swelled with pride. “I told you I’d get her to come round.”

Sirius didn’t believe it for an instant. Remus cocked a suspicious eyebrow, and Peter was busy eating his cereal. James looked at the three of his closest friends, the boys he would do anything for, and their disbelieving expressions with disappointment. It was betrayal.

“You’re all dead to me.” 

Remus sighed, putting his novel down. “Now, Prongs, what else did she say?” he probed.

James spluttered, scoffed and waved his hands. What did it matter? She complimented him and she meant it. Everything else was simply besides the point, a mere subtext to the main event. He picked up two slices of toast, buttering them rather aggressively as Sirius and Remus waited for an answer. 

“She told him to “piss off,”” said Peter between mouthfuls. 

James chortled in pure disbelief, almost choking on his first bite of his freshly buttered toast. He quickly looked to Remus and Sirius who hid their smirks rather pathetically. “How did you know that’s what she said?!”

“I didn’t, but that’s what she usually says,” laughed Peter, joined by Sirius and Remus. 

“Just you wait,” James promised.

It had taken nearly six years for James to seize Y/N’s attention. These days she’d actually have a conversation with him, she’d even laugh at the jokes he made just for that very reason. That, and to watch her smile grow. He hadn’t thought much of Y/N in the beginning, considering she was a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor. But as he grew older, a little wiser, both him and his friends had realised these divisions weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Sure, some Slytherins really were evil, but a lot of them weren’t. Some Ravenclaws were rather dopey, some Gryffindor’s a little too cowardly. 

It didn’t matter to him anymore.

As Remus headed to the library and Peter to the dorms, James chatted with Sirius, bringing up the idea of a prank to shake up the Monday morning to come. Sirius wasn’t so sure, but he could easily be persuaded. They walked through the halls of Hogwarts brainstorming ideas all afternoon, winding through the corridors before finally heading outside to enjoy the June sun. 

“It’s perfect, Padfoot, we just need Moony and Wormtail in on it too.”

“You know them, they’ll be up for it,” winked Sirius, lying back on the patchy grass not far from the Whomping Willow.

James leaned against the trunk of a tree, fiddling with a daisy in his hand as he thought of Y/N, now that his distraction had taken its leave. If only he could make her see he was worth her while. He pulled blades of grass from the soil below, ripping them to shreds as he thought of some way to make her see that she was missing out by not giving him a chance. He could be utterly perfect for her. 

“What are you two doing being so quiet?” Asked Y/N, blocking the sun from Sirius’ face as she stood over him. 

“Relaxing, Y/L/N. You should try it some time, maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight,” remarked Sirius without even opening his eyes. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to James. “Something on your mind or?” She nodded to the pile of ripped up grass at James’ feet. 

He looked down sheepishly. “No,” he said bluntly, unable to think of an excuse or a sarcastic response to keep the conversation flowing. 

Y/N felt a small pang of embarrassment and went to go on her way. Had she upset him earlier? They always spoke that way to each other, she thought, it was just part of their banter.

James hit his hand to the floor muttering a profanity under his breath as he shot up. He hesitated before going after her. Over the past weeks he struggled to know what to say to her like he used to. For a while he thought he was losing his touch or that something in her manner had changed his own. But she was just as she was before. It was him who had changed.

“Wait up, Y/N!” He shouted. 

Y/N spun around, scrunching her brows together in confusion. As she waited for James to catch up, she wondered what he could have to say to her that he couldn’t have said before when she was clearly making an effort to talk. 

“Sorry about before,” James said, “Don’t know why I just said that.” 

She melted into his apology. “It’s okay. Are you alright?” 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m all right. You just caught me thinking, that’s all,” James laughed, taking slow steps with her towards the castle. 

“What were you thinking about?” Asked Y/N. “Not your Potions assignment, surely?” She laughed. 

James laughed too. Merlin, he did love to hear her laugh. “Of course not, I’ll just get an extension for that or something. No, just thinking about what Sirius and I have planned for tomorrow.”

Y/N tensed. She hated that they were always scheming, that he was. “Not another prank?”

James quickly felt himself become defensive, though he wished he could have stopped it. “What’s wrong with that?” He snapped.

Y/N stopped, turning to James. Behind him was the view of the tumbling Scottish hills, shades of green spilling over onto one another, all the way down to the water that shimmered in the sunlight. She leaned over the side of the bridge, and James followed her.

“I just don’t get it, James,” she started. He loved it when she called him by his name, his first name. “School is hard enough, you know? We’re all just trying to make it through to the end when we can finally feel safe enough to be ourselves. For most people, they can’t be themselves here, they’re just trying to fit in so things aren’t so hard. You and your mates make it that much harder for all of us. You always seem to single out the people who just want to be invisible.”

James felt almost as if he was being attacked. She’d never said anything like this before. “You never seemed to mind before,” James grunted. 

“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I didn’t have an opinion. Just thought you’d grow out of it, is all,” she shrugged, continuing her slow walk back to the castle. 

So really, this whole time he never stood a chance. She was baiting him? He couldn’t help but take this as a personal attack, as much as he wanted not to do so. “I don’t understand-”

“No, you won’t understand,” sighed Y/N. “I’m not trying to attack you.” 

She traced his thoughts as easily as a well-worn path. 

“I’m just saying I don’t think you realise how harmful your stupid pranks can be for people who already have it hard.”

“They’re just pranks.”

“But they’re not. Publicly humiliating people is not a prank, it’s cruel. Haven’t you ever thought, after all these years, there’s other ways to make people laugh without hurting them?”

James was taken aback. She’d suggested something no one ever had done before. Did he really do this sort of thing just for attention? Sure he liked the way it made him feel, the way people laughed because of something he had done, the way people greeted him in the corridors, knew his name before he had introduced himself. But he hadn’t realised it might have all started because he wanted people to see him. It was just fun, wasn’t it? 

That’s all it was.

But before he had the chance to tell this to Y/N, the person whom he needed to convince, she was gone, thinking perhaps it really was best to keep her distance.

- - -

James had spent days thinking over what Y/N had told him, about the can of worms she had opened inside him. He didn’t go through with the prank he had planned for that Monday morning, and had not thought of following through on any of the ideas the rest of his friends had come up with either. All he could think about was Y/N and what she had said. 

The hours he spent mulling over it had done some damage. Perhaps he was just in it for the way it made him feel, knowing so many people adored him or at least liked him. The way first years knew who he was before any of the professors, the way they looked up to him. The laughter he brought to the school and the swell of pride he felt in hearing it. But after he thought of this with much gratification, he lingered on the other side of it. 

How many people had he left crying in their dorms, frightened to come to class and see him again? He remembered one Slytherin he’d fed vomiting candy to - Merlin, they spewed their guts up all over the classroom. He had never once thought how he would feel if it had happened to him, because his friends would never do that. They were the instigators, not the receivers. He wondered how many students avoided him any chance they could. He wondered at the empty seats next him in the lessons he didn’t share with Sirius or Remus.

It was tedious, he had never had to think of all these repercussions before.

“James, mate, what is wrong with you lately?” Sirius asked, settling into an armchair by the common room fireplace. 

James shook his head, twirling his wand between his fingers, eyes pouring into the fire in front of him. “What if we changed the way we pranked people?”

“What do you mean?” Asked Sirius, waving Remus and Peter over.

- - -

The next morning James enacted his plan. It was elaborate in the way that he had to be up nearly all night with Remus, Sirius and Peter to make sure it worked. He hadn’t really spoken to Y/N much since their conversation nearly a week ago but he was desperate to see her smile. He was desperate to make her smile, in the hopes it would break the tension between them.

Being the reason for her smile made him feel as if he had accomplished something worthwhile. 

The four of them sat in the Great Hall, anxiously eating their breakfast as they waited for it to begin. Sirius was not at all confident - it was so unlike them, so ‘off brand’ as he had described it. Remus, on the other hand, quite liked the idea and was committed to its success. Peter hated it, but didn’t care as long as James stopped dragging through the days - for he had been awfully boring as of late, Peter thought.

James fought to look behind him to the Slytherin table, but at least twice every few minutes he failed. He watched her for as long as she permitted him to - for as long as he went unnoticed. It was Y/N, in fact, that alerted him to the beginning of their stunt. She turned to the doors of the Great Hall as the first of the owls swooped in, dropping various letters at a plethora of tables. 

“I’ve got a howler,” a student gasped from the Hufflepuff table. 

One of their friends consoled them with a pat on the back and a sigh. “Just get it over with.”

The Hufflepuff was about to rip open the sealed letter when another student behind them declared they had received one too. At first, they had imagined it as coincidental bad luck, but there began a chorus of students admitting the same fate. Y/N looked around in confusion as students began to stand and show their respective howlers. And then she knew. Her eyes flickered to James in a silent rage, knowing he had not grasped the gravity of her words, that he had absorbed nothing, and that her words that day had been taken by the wind, scattered amongst the hills of the highlands.

None of the students had opened their howlers as of yet, waiting for the last of them to be delivered from the owls still filtering in and out of the hall. She watched James through the rain of letters, keeping her eyes fixed on him until a letter of her very own fell onto her plate.

As the last owl departed, students began looking around apprehensively at each other, soundlessly deliberating on who would be the first to open their howler or if anyone would open one at all. But it was a Slytherin who opened theirs before anyone else, watching as the letter assumed sentience and hovered in midair. It said nothing, simply popped with a quiet bang and exploded in confetti. The Slytherin watched it, speechless and in shock.

One by one, students began opening their howlers, and the hall was soon filled with low pops and colourful confetti. The coloured pieces of paper hung aloft, painting the bland stone walls in coloured refraction as the sun shone through the tall windows. Y/N watched the scene with a radiant smile that had slowly drawn across her face. Finally, Y/N opened her own howler and watched it pop, exploding with confetti and flowers, floating down from a short distance above her table down over her hair and plate. 

She caught James’ eye across the room, laughing with her friends. She said nothing, mouthed nothing, gave him nothing but a smile. But to James, this was enough. 

They were talking again like they used to, becoming more intimate than they had ever been. Something had shifted within their relationship and James felt the more he learned about her, the harder he began to fall. Y/N felt as if distance from James Potter was the last thing that would make her happy.

He talked to her about music, muggle movies, even books, though he had read very few. They talked about their ambitions, about their favourite foods and hobbies, their favourite ways to spend a sunny afternoon.

“A bunch of people are going down to the Black Lake this Saturday,” Y/N said, looking at James, “Are you going?”

“I might be,” James smirked, “Do you want me to?”

Y/N blushed, shaking her head. “Don’t get too cocky, Potter.”

Yes, James thought, she wanted him to. Good.

“Yeah, I’m going,” he said softly.

“Good.”

James felt his stomach churn as a warm rush swirled through his body. His heart beat with such ferocity at the mere notion of Y/N wanting to be near him. He was both intoxicated and exhilarated from the mere presence of her. How he yearned for Y/N. If only he could prove himself to be worthy of her. He knew she would only bring out the best in him, he knew she would open his eyes to new ways of living which before, he could but dream of. 

James knew he needed her, he just wished she wanted him.

- - -

He could not wait another minute to head down to Black Lake. She was probably already there, and he was losing precious minutes. There were simply not enough seconds in the day for him to admire Y/N the way she deserved to be admired. He rushed with heat in his cheeks and warmth in his heart to the lake, his friends flagging behind. He saw her from a distance, lounging on a picnic blanket with her friends, a nearby tree providing them with shade, though the both of them sat in the sunlight that everyone knew was not to last in Scotland and must be taken advantage of. 

He felt his heart pumping the blood through his body. She looked truly beautiful. 

“James is staring at you,” Y/N’s friend teased. 

“Good,” she laughed. 

The sun shone through him, she could see his beauty even from this far. Though she knew the moment she woke up that this was going to be a good day, and that she was happy in the friends she had and the life that she had built, she didn’t really feel happiness until she saw James. Yes she was happy, but he made her feel so.

“He’s coming over,” her friend hissed in excitement.

“All right, Y/N?” Asked James, strolling over to their designated tree. 

“Just fine, Potter. You’re here a bit late, you know? All the good trees have gone.”

James laughed, looking around. “Shame. Wonder if anyone would be willing to share.” 

Y/N looked around at the many students that had flocked to the lake to enjoy the sun. They were all in their own worlds, enjoying their own days. “Doesn’t look likely.”

Y/N enjoyed the moments that led up to what she wanted. “Oh, you mean you want to share with us?” Y/N looked toward her friend who only rolled her eyes. 

She had given prior permission had James acted out this very scenario.

“I suppose you can share with us, if you have to.”

“My goodness, Y/N, how kind of you,” James bowed in thanks, eliciting a small chuckle from her. 

He waved his friends over and settled next to Y/N and her friend beside their tree. James sat nearest to Y/N. He stared at the side of her face, the way her neck accentuated when she turned her head, the way her cheeks plumped when she smiled. 

After nearly an hour chatting amongst themselves, Sirius and Peter left to walk down to the shore. The two of them were complaining of the heat and fancied a cool down. Soon after, Remus offered Y/N’s friend to join him in dipping his feet in the shallow shoreline. She obliged his request, winking at Y/N before she left.

Her cheeks flushed as she waved her off dismissively. 

“And then there were two,” laughed James. 

Y/N laughed too, turning to really focus all her attention on him for the first time since he had joined them nearly an hour ago. James suddenly felt under a spotlight, it was as if perfection was asking for him to imitate her to his greatest ability, and yet he knew he was to fall short. 

“Err, I- You look nice,” James stuttered.

It was amusing to see him this way, but she almost took pity. “Thanks,” laughed Y/N. 

She put him at ease, just the way she looked at him as she always did. He fell into his usual rhythm, chatting and teasing and joking with her. He felt more connected to her than he ever had been. He shifted closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. It ignited her with such an intensity she couldn’t help but shift uneasily, fiddling with her fingers and breathing a little more unevenly than before. James could think of nothing more natural to do at this moment. And as it so happened, there was nothing he longed for more than this.

He leaned in, breath hitching as he caught the scent of her perfume she’d applied hours before in the early morning. He watched the fine hairs on her neck stand up on end. As his eyes flickered to hers he realised her gaze had softened, her pupils wide, anticipating his next move. 

“James!” Sirius called from the water. “He’s gonna kill me!”

Upon hearing his name James turned to its origin. Peter was waterboarding Sirius. 

“Fuck,” he breathed under his breath. 

Y/N had already been snapped from her reverie, and was laughing awkwardly as Sirius flailed around in the water. James, though extremely disappointed, laughed along with her before dragging himself up and heading to the shoreline. 

The moment was lost.

Y/N watched intently as James stripped his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, for he had not thought he would be entering the water that day. He preferred staying dry. With her mouth agape, Y/N examined the grooves of his body and the way his skin stretched over his toned muscles. How she wished they hadn't been interrupted. It felt as if she had waited a lifetime to embrace James - there was always something in their way.

More often than not, it was James himself.

James launched himself in the water, coming up for air and sweeping his sopping hair back. After a few moments of tearing his friends apart, Y/N watched the three of them discuss something. She instantly became nervous, but checked herself and calmed down, believing James to have taken her advice on board. But as she watched the three of them lift their wands, she couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat.

Sprinkles and spirals of water danced above the students in the lake, forming creative and pretty shapes, conjured by James and his friends. While everyone was distracted by the shimmering water droplets playing a scene in front of them, none of them noticed the series of waves headed towards the body of students. 

In an unrelenting sequence, towering waves crashed the shallow end of the lake, filling it almost to neck height. Students screamed and laughed, swimming to safety. Some chuckled in annoyance, some in good humour. There were few who cursed James out and others who scurried away in a quiet rage. But Y/N, with her heart pounding and legs carrying her faster than they ever had before, was screaming in terror. 

“Stop! Stop!” 

She forced herself into the water, sinking below the surface, swimming with such purpose. James had not noticed her yet, too caught up in the heat of the moment with his friends, taking pleasure in their antics. It was Remus who first caught a glimpse of Y/N waving frantically before launching herself back under the water, seemingly searching for something. 

“James! Stop!” She pleaded.

Y/N searched desperately for the Slytherin girl. Desperately in fear. Finally, with one more piercing scream for James to stop what he was doing, he heard her, and put a stop to the incoming waves in an instant. Y/N looked around the water, searching and searching for signs of movement as the height of the lake slowly decreased and returned to normal. 

A hand reached above the surface, silently pleading for some sort of relief. Y/N rushed forward, grabbing her with such a force, pulling her to the surface. The poor girl coughed and spluttered, accumulating as much as oxygen as she could in a single breath. 

James and the others rushed towards her, helping Y/N drag her out of the water. Though the girl clung to Y/N as she reached safety, she left her in the capable hands of her friend. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

“What is wrong with you? She can’t swim!” bellowed Y/N. 

She threw her hands to her head, shaking it in shock and disbelief, trembling with adrenaline and fury. She really thought James was susceptible to change. “I thought you were done with this sort of shit, James. She could have died! She could’ve-”

Oh, but it didn’t matter. What was the point of screaming when it all fell to deaf ears? Sometimes people weren't meant to intertwine.

But still she felt so disappointed in someone she saw such capability, such potential in, that she thought she could cry there at that very moment in front of everyone. The moment she felt as if he really was lost to her.

“This is over, Potter.”

- - -

James had not been himself for weeks. 

He could not forgive himself for what he had done - to the girl, to Y/N, to himself. He cursed that day as his undoing. He was unkempt, uncaring and could think of nothing but Y/N, though now she would not even grace him with a look. He had never seen someone so disappointed in him, had never cared for others disappointment in him. He had never learned the type of humility that came with adhering to the expectations of those who esteemed him. 

He had never wanted to.

He enjoyed where being selfish got him. At first, Sirius tried to persuade him that James shouldn’t want Y/N to change him anyway, that he shouldn’t have to, just for some girl. And he was right, he shouldn’t have to change. He didn’t want to change. He wanted to be better, for her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose what made himself James Potter.

Pranks had become the way in which James expressed himself. And it was the only way he knew how to communicate with Y/N now. 

After weeks of self pity and wallowing, James pulled himself together, more determined than ever before. This wasn’t about a feeling he wished to maintain, about a popularity he desired to be upheld. It was about admitting he was wrong and that he could do better.

He started off slow, cautious. He knew this was important to win back her trust. He started by pretending to be McGonagall’s secret admirer - flowers, chocolates and love letters written on her black board all causing sniggers in class whenever it was brought up. Harmless fun.

Then he moved onto bigger things. 

James managed to steal a few personal items of some fellow students. A pair of shoes, a quill, a textbook. When people finally began to realise, James announced at dinner that he had hidden these personal items and would offer a Galleon to all those who managed to locate the whereabouts of their personal belongings. If they did not succeed in the next twenty four hours, they were not to fear, James would return them all safe and sound. 

James’ efforts had not escaped Y/N’s notice, not in the least. She wished beyond anything it could be enough to fix what he had broken, to mend what he had handled so carelessly. She had almost resigned herself to the notion they didn't belong, but a glimmer of hope kept her awake during the nights, hoping she might be wrong after all.

She could feel him watching her, gauging to see whether her feelings toward him were changing. She kept her cards close to her chest, and gave nothing away, hoping James would not see through her carefully constructed shield. 

While she valued his efforts, it was not enough. She still felt as if she had overstepped her boundaries and that she should have left well enough alone. Besides, she couldn’t begin to trust him again until he did the unthinkable. 

“Apologise?!” James scoffed. 

“It’s a completely logical solution!” Remus retorted. 

“I know! Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that? But I- I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say,” James sighed and shook his head. 

He’d never had to apologise above more than a quick, half-hearted “sorry, mate” with a slap on the back and a swift moving on. He didn’t know how to truly convey his feelings into an apology, how to make it sound like he meant it. 

“All you’ve been talking about is making it right with her,” Remus reminded him. “This is your chance.” 

James knew he was right, but this did not take away from the fact he still did not know how. 

- - -

Y/N had been trying to study for three hours now, but was always distracted by something outside the castle walls or some sound within the library. She couldn’t concentrate, she could think of nothing else but how much she wished James could understand or at least show that he was trying. But, as violently as she craved this, she didn’t want to force some kind of change on him and end up being resented for it in the end. 

She shouldn’t have to change someone in order for them to fit her standards. And James shouldn't feel obliged to change for her either.

If she wanted him to change at all, it was only to see him succeed.

Change. So complicated, so understudied. What did it mean to change? What really was it, at its core? What did it mean to her, to James, to love and to hate? How closely and blurred the lines of love, hate, desire, and resentment really were.

For another hour she tried to write notes on the theory of Charms. In the end, Y/N thought, she just wanted to talk to him, to hear his thoughts and listen. Even if nothing came from it, she yearned for some sort of closure. At least then, she might be able to move on.  Nonetheless she pushed James to the sidelines, pushing that small sliver of hope down into the depths of her memory.

Meanwhile, James was pacing the Gryffindor common room. Everything sounded wrong, fake and disingenuous. Regardless, James began to search the grounds of Hogwarts for his target, practicing some sort of speech in his head as he did so.

“Y/N?” Someone pulled her from her day dream. 

James himself. 

“Oh, hey.” 

“Can we talk? Can I talk?” James asked. 

Y/N nodded to the seat in front of her. She closed her textbook and waited for what he had to say. 

“Look, I’ve always been a bit…selfish, a bit shallow. Never really thought to be anything else ‘cause everything’s always worked out for me the way I wanted it to,” he began. “I-” James shook his head. This was pointless. 

“Fuck. Okay, I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened. Not just because it upset you and it might have ruined my chances, but I’m sorry about the girl and for what I did to her. I’ve already set things right in that respect and don’t get me wrong, it felt good to do that, but I’ll never be right until I fix things with you. Or at least try to,” he explained, rambling. “I don’t want you to feel as if you’ve changed me or that I have to change for you, I don’t think that’s how it should work. But since I’ve gotten to know you I’ve wanted to be better and I have been. I like the way you make me feel, I’ve liked the way I’ve felt from doing things differently. Merlin, anyway, now I feel stupid. I’m just sorry.” 

Y/N listened without judgement, without interruption. She thought for a moment, letting James absorb the silence. He was certainly going lengths to make amends, and she appreciated his candor, his efforts. She couldn’t help a small smile perch upon her lips as she looked over at James, so sullen. What she was afraid of was not coming to fruition.

The person she desired could still be hers if she wanted him to be.

“Thank you,” she smiled. 

James lit up. “You forgive me?” He asked. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think too. I think it was unfair of me to put those kind of standards on you. And I don’t think it was your intention, for once, to hurt anybody that day. It was reckless but it wasn’t malicious. Yeah, I forgive you.” 

“Thank Merlin,” James let out a sigh of relief and he knew he could put his final plan into action. Something he had been planning since the day he met her, he just didn’t know it. "By the way, you didn't force anything on me. I didn't change for you, but you showed me the person I could be and I liked the way he looked."

Y/N didn't know what to say, only smiled softly.

“I um-” James rubbed the back of his head. “I missed chatting with you.” He could actually feel the heat burning in his cheeks. 

“Me too, Potter.” 

She felt the familiar feelings she had for James bubble to the surface once more. She was no longer concerned with keeping them in check. So easy it was for James to earn her forgiveness.

- - -

Y/N saw James again the next day at breakfast, just as she was finishing up. She headed over to his table, greeting his friends before asking if she could sit. 

James found this a little odd, she’d never bothered with his mates before. 

“All right?” James asked, playing it cool. He didn’t want to embarrass her, whatever she was doing. 

“Yeah, thanks. So listen, my friend is throwing a small party tonight down by the Forbidden Forest. I know, I know, probably a bad idea but there’s a few people going, not just Slytherins,” Y/N eyed the four of them. “She said we could invite people, so I wondered if you guys might like to go?” 

Remus and Sirius smirked at each other knowingly, while Peter eagerly accepted her invitation. James stared at her, a brilliant smile adorning his features. 

Merlin, she was beautiful. And she wanted to spend quality time with him.

“Yeah, we’d love to go,” James answered for the rest of the group. 

James spent the rest of his day deciding what he should wear and thinking about the possibilities this party could present. Down by the Forbidden Forest, Y/N drenched in firelight. His mind swam amongst the potential. 

“Ready to go, Prongs?” asked Remus. 

James nodded, flicking the collar of his jacket up. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

Y/N waited by the fire, eyeing the direction of the castle, keeping her eyes fixed to the last piece of land the fire illuminated. She’d been waiting a mere ten minutes but it felt like an age. Where was he? 

She didn’t quite know why she had been so bold as to invite him and his friends to this party. She wasn’t sure what she thought it would achieve, if it would achieve anything. What she knew was that she liked the way James made her feel, she liked that she felt important to him.  

“Can you chill out? Have a beer or something,” her friend offered her a freshly opened bottle.

Y/N took it off her hands and took a swig, turning from the empty abyss ahead and instead focussed on the party. Her friends were already a few beers down by the time she had arrived; she had a little catching up to do. 

Meanwhile James had taken a shot of firewhiskey on the way down as liquid courage. Sirius was patting him hard on the back, hoping this would somehow help the spluttering that followed his single shot. 

“Wimp,” Remus sighed. 

“Fuck of, Moony.” 

Remus shook his head in disappointment, taking a swig of firewhiskey straight from the bottle and moving onwards towards the Dark Forest. Peter caught up with him, asking for a drink, but Remus only laughed. 

James recollected himself, smoothing down his hair and flicking the collar of his jacket up once more, ignoring the burning in his stomach. He continued down the hill to the Dark Forest, seeking the light of a blazing fire until finally, he saw a flicker of orange in the distance. There, Y/N would be waiting. 

“Why do you even bother with Potter?” Asked her friend. 

“I don’t know. There’s more to him.” 

“There’s not much more, lad’s a kiddy pool.” 

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” 

“Whatever,” her friend laughed. “If you’re hung up on him, then I’ll support you.” 

“Hung up on who?” asked James, approaching. 

Y/N smacked her friend’s arm, she’d done that on purpose. “No one!” Y/N lied, turning to face James. 

He looked…nice. 

James let it go. “All right?” 

Y/N nodded. “I’m a couple bottles down, so yeah, I’m pretty good,” she laughed. “Want a drink?” 

“I’d love one.” 

James and Y/N all but abandoned the party for each other’s company. They talked more than they had for quite a few weeks. James was elated with how easily they fell back into rhythm. It was so easy to talk to her, he felt he could reveal his deepest secrets without even knowing he’d done so, even if she hadn’t asked. But, he didn’t really have any. He was, for the most part, an open book. 

And this is what Y/N liked. James was all on the surface. And because of this, sometimes it was hard to see who he was, because he laid it all out on the table, everything mingled together, everything messy and unorganised. One really had to look at James to understand him. 

But she read him like he was a language only she knew how to translate. 

The embers of the fire still burned hot, but the fire itself had long fizzled out. The cold summer air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and James could see the shivers trembling through her body. Most had returned to their dorms, but there were the odd few still sitting around the fire, chatting with their friends. 

“Here,” James wrapped his jacket around Y/N’s arms. 

She shifted closer to him as he wrapped his coat around her, looking up at his flushed cheeks and messy hair. He looked like someone she could love. Y/N had been waiting at a crossroad, stoic in this stillness as she waited. James, sometimes lost in the detours, had finally reached her. This moment had been building to its peak for an age.

“Y/N-” but he was brutally interrupted.

“Filch!” 

Everyone scattered. James took Y/N’s hand and led her behind a tree on the edge of the Forest away from the light of the fire and safe from Filch’s wandering eyes. He’d no idea where his friends had gone, and Y/N had no idea where hers were either. What she was agonisingly aware of, was that James had pushed her against a tree, watching the surrounding areas for any movement. He hadn’t realised how close to her he was. But she had. 

She felt James’s entire body flush against hers. His hand wrapped around her wrist, his neck pulsing with concern. The snap of a twig sounded in nearby proximity, and James instinctively brought his hand to Y/N’s mouth, silencing the gasp he knew was about to pierce the silence and alert someone as to their whereabouts.

Y/N felt her blood pumping in her veins, the heat rising to her face, her heart pounding in her chest.  She wanted him.

“Prongs? Is that you?” Someone whispered. 

James seemed to know what this meant, and responded with a low ‘yes.’ 

The marauders and Y/N snuck their way back into the castle without being caught and James left the rest of his friends to escort Y/N back to her common room. She thanked him at the door, finally letting go of his hand that she had been clasping ever since they had been hiding in the Forest. 

James wished he could have kissed her then, but he let her close the door behind her, and walked away with a quiet ‘good night.’ 

The next morning however, he spurred his plan into action. He spoke to people he never thought he’d have to, and never wanted to again. But it was worth it for the outcome he was hoping for.  

He knew this was to be his most elaborate “prank” yet. And if it was successful, it would be his most rewarding. 

The weekend could not come fast enough. Throughout the week he and Y/N shared lingering looks, caught each other staring from across the classroom, passed stupid doodles, laughed at cheesy jokes and pick-up lines that James had learnt from Sirius. He sat in the library with her while she studied; he watched, mostly.

And while the week had been one of the best he’d had so far, he couldn’t help but wish for it to go faster. And when Saturday morning finally arrived, he was more than ready. 

Y/N woke early in the morning, preparing for a day of studying, again. She showered quickly, got dressed and headed out of her common room for the Great Hall. 

“Hi Y/N,” her friend greeted, handing her a rose. 

“Uh, what’s this?” she asked. 

“A flower? Are you stupid?” 

“Bite me,” she chuckled. “Thanks?” 

But she only smiled and walked away. Odd. 

She carried on her way, heading up the great staircase, happening upon no one else until she reached the top. 

The Slytherin girl said nothing, simply handed her another rose and scurried off. Y/N stood dumbfounded for a moment, looking at the two roses in her hand before shrugging it off and walking onwards. People are weird, so what? 

When she reached the Great Hall doors, one of her Ravenclaw classmates called out to her. 

“Wait up!” He called, holding out a rose for her when he caught up. 

“What the Hell? Are you asking me out or something?” 

“No,” he sniggered. 

Y/N took the rose and watched him walk off, more confused than ever. She almost wanted to turn back to her common room and stay there for the rest of the day, safe where no one could find her. Something was off. 

But upon hearing her stomach growl, she braved the Great Hall and entered cautiously. Big mistake. Before she even got to her table, she’d received three more roses, practically holding a bouquet now. She just couldn’t understand this. Was there some kind of holiday she didn’t know about? 

Quickly shoveling down two pieces of toast, Y/N took herself and her roses out of the Great Hall and all but ran to the library where she could study in peace. But on her way she encountered two more people with two more roses. She couldn’t take this anymore, what was going on? 

It wasn’t until she saw Remus, Sirius and Peter standing at the doors in the library, a rose in each of their hands, that she realised this was all a joke, a mindfully constructed prank. She couldn’t help the smile that rose to her lips as she neared the boys. Accepting each of their roses, she thanked them. Following her thanks, they each outstretched their arms, inviting her inside where James awaited. 

Rose petals adorned the library floor, all the way to the aisle she had been studying in for weeks now. There, upon the desk that was wedged between the bookshelves, was a bouquet of roses. And James. 

He smiled effortlessly, a single rose in hand. 

“Hey,” she laughed in disbelief. 

“Hello, Y/N,” James smiled. 

“How’d you pull this off?” She asked, in awe of his efforts for her affection. 

“Doesn’t matter, love. What matters is whether you will agree to go on a date with me,” he said, handing her the last rose as an offering. 

“Where?” 

“That’s for you to find out, if you accept.” 

Y/N laughed, giving into her instincts. She wrapped her arms around James’ neck, inhaling his scent, feeling his skin against her face, his arms holding her, running up her back. 

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes, holding him tighter, relishing in the feeling of finally having him.

Such relief. Y/N felt her new peace, her home wrapped in skin and flesh and a heartbeat. James.

She could feel him pulling away from this embrace, and she loosened her grip to look at him. His eyes were hooded, taking all of her in. 

“Finally,” he laughed, connecting his lips with hers in a fiery embrace that set their bones on fire.

tags 🏷️: @foolexby

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[piroulinewafers]

𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: mechanic! caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: caleb hates her car— the dents, the rust, the constant need for repairs— but he loves that it always brings her back to him. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

the morning sun hadn’t fully climbed over the rooftops when the unmistakable sputter of her car chugged its way into the lot behind caleb’s garage. it coughed once— loudly— then shuddered to a stop with a sad little wheeze that echoed across the quiet street. she winced, gently patting the dashboard like an apology.

she hoisted herself out of the driver’s seat and closing the creaky door with more care than it deserved considering the amount of near fatal accidents the hunk of metal had gotten her into.

caleb looked up from where he was flat on his back beneath the lifted frame of a vintage pickup. the summer heat had done little to cool his workshop-stained clothe, his coveralls were rolled down on his waist, thick blue fabric stained and oil-splattered, tied in a knot around his hips. his sweat-dampened t-shirt clung to his chest like a vice and broad arms, glistening with the sheen of sweat, flexed as he sat up to give her his full, undivided attention. as always, his treasured dog tags remained around his neck, an unspoken good luck charm, clinking softly as he sat up on the creeper.

caleb simply grinned when he saw her. the same grin he’d had since they were kids, when he used to dare her to eat worms or race her to the pond at the edge of town. except now, the grin came with the added charm of a sharp jaw, broad shoulders and arms that looked carved from marble, carved in smudges of car grease instead of fine polish.

she couldn’t help but find herself staring for a moment before snapping herself out of it. oh. right. the car.

“well, well,” he drawled, standing up and wiping his hands on a used rag that probably hadn’t been clean in a while. “look what the cat dragged in, my favorite hunk of junk.” 

“i-it’s not a hunk of junk,” she mumble defensively. she shifted awkwardly, glancing back at her car. “so… do you think you could take a look? it started making a new noise. kinda like a… whimper? or maybe a dying dog.” 

caleb laughed and headed towards the car, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “sounds serious, let’s have a look, hm?” 

she trailed after him, hands in the pockets of her pants as she watched him work. she quietly marvelled at the ease in his movements, the way his muscles flexed under the grime as he circled her car, eyeing it intensely. 

“alright sweetheart,” caleb drawled, crouching down beside the front of the car. “pop the hood for me, would ya?” 

practically tripping over herself, doing as he asked as he rolled beneath the car on the creeper, tools clanking as he worked. she wasn’t sure what she expected, but the sight of him so focused— brows furrowed, lips slightly parted as he muttered something under his breath— was oddly mesmerizing. 

“looks like your alternator’s strugglin’ again,” he called out from underneath the car. “and i’m guessin’ you ignored my advice last time about replacin’ this belt, huh?”

she shifted on her feet. “i mean… i thought maybe it just needed a little encouragement.” it came out as more of a question than a statement if anything at all.

caleb rolled out from under the car, an exasperated look on his face. “cars don’t just run on hope.” he shook his head, amused, before sitting up and wiping swear from his forehead. “you’re lucky i like ya. otherwise, i’d be lettin’ you deal with this mess yourself.” 

the mechanic stretched, almost purposefully in front of her, before turning his attention to the open hood. 

“your oil is looking dark and gritty too. that means its not circulating properly and that can cause all sorts of trouble for your engine,” he explained, glancing over at her. “no wonder this hunk of metal sounds like it’s on its last legs.”

she leaned in awkwardly, trying to get a better look at what he was referring to. “o-oh, so that’s not good?”

caleb simply grinned. “no, baby, that’s not good at all. but don’t you worry, i’ll get this thing runnin’ like a dream again in no time.”

“so… you can fix it?” 

“‘course i can. i can fix anythin’.” he leaned in a little closer. of course, he wouldn’t properly fix the things, only do enough to ensure she was safe on the road but not enough that she wouldn’t need his help anymore. he liked having her come running to him all teary eyed with her car troubles so he could swoop in and fix them for her. 

“but i charge extra if the customer looks at me with those big, dumb eyes and doesn’t even pretend to know what i’m talkin’ about.” 

immediately, her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “i’m trying to learn, caleb…” 

the man simply chuckled, reaching for a wrench. “then here’s lesson one: why don’t you make yourself useful and get hand me the torque wrench.” 

she blinked, dumbly. “which one is that?” 

“you’re a big girl, i’m sure you can figure it out, right?” 

flustered, she moved to the tray, picking up a tool and holding it out hesitantly. “this one, caleb?” 

he took it from her, brushing her fingers in the process. “close enough.” her shy attempts at comprehension were beyond adorable to him. 

caleb could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his touch, the softness of her hair as it brushed against his fingertips. there was a part of him that wanted to linger, to trail his fingers down the slope of her neck and across her shoulder, but he resisted the urge. for now, at least. 

instead, he stepped back and grabbed a rag, wiping his hands thoroughly before turning his attention back to the task at hand. 

caleb’s eyes flickered over, watching her fuss with the edge of her sleeve, flicking from the engine to him and back again. like she wanted to ask something but didn’t quite know how. caleb smirked, rag still in hand, and slowing rounded the open hood. 

“you sure treat this car like it’s made of glass,” he drawled, voice low, teasing. ‘you sure you aren’t the one makin’ it whimper?”

her brows furrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, he was in front of her. close. closer than he should be. one step forward and she was pressed between the now closed hot hood and the firm press of his chest. 

she blinked up at him, strartled but not pulling away. her breath caught, the warmth of the metal behind her meeting the heat of him in front of her, arms caging her as he rested his palms on either side of the hood. his grin was lazy, boyish, but his gaze razor-sharp.

“you know,” caleb murmured, dipping his head just enough for his nose to skim along her cheek. “for a car that rattles like a tin can, you sure get real protective of it.”

“i-its not that bad,” she whispered, voice hitching. her hands hovered uncertainly between them, fingers twitching as if deciding whether to push him away or pull him closer. 

he chuckled, low in his throat. “sweetheart, i’ve seen shoppin’ carts with smoother steering than this thing. “then, softer, closer, “but i kinda like that you keep comin’ to me anyway.”

her lips parts, flustered, eyes wide. 

“you said you liked her…” she mumbled, trying to sound accusatory.

“i like you,” he corrected, effortlessly, without shame or hesitation. “the car’s just a bonus.”

and then he kissed her. 

it wasn’t rushed, he kissed her like he meant to fix all her broken parts, like he could find out everything she’d never said just by the way she tasted. his hand came up to cradle the side of her face, thumb brushing against his cheek as his other arm stayed firmly braced beside her on the hood. she leaned into him like she’d been waiting to fall.

when he finally pulled back, just a breath away, his grin had softened into something quieter, dangerous.

“you’re real cute when you try to talk shop with me,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, before smearing their mixed saliva on her lips with the pad of his thumb. 

“you always bring me the best kind of trouble, you know that?” he said, humming as his hands settled on either side of her thighs on the hood of her car.

caleb just smiled. “don’t look at me like that, baby,” he murmured, something sinful curling in the edges of his smirk. ‘you’re the one who came waltzin’ in here with those big eyes and that little voice beggin’ me to look under your hood.”

her breath hitched. “i— i didn’t mean it like that—“

“didn’t say you meant to,” he cut in gently, one hand brushing lightly along her bare thigh where her shirt was ridden up from the heat. the touch was barely there. “doesn’t change what i heard.”

she sucked in a sharp breath, her hand instinctively finding the hem of her shirt like a lifeline. 

he noticed. of course he noticed.

“you always fidget when you get nervous,” he said, tone mock-thoughtful as his fingers toyed lazily with the edge of her skirt. 

her cheeks flamed, eyes darting fro his lips to his eyes and back again, and oh, that only made him bolder.

he leaned in, brushing his mouth against the shell of her ear, like he had all the time in the world. “you know,” he murmured, “there’s something real sweet about you sitting here all shy, actin’ like you don’t know how pretty you look pressed up against my car.”

it wasn’t his car, of course, and yet he took ownership of it with his words so easily and she didn’t have it in her to refute him. 

she couldn’t speak, her mouth opened and closed once, then again. useless. she was burning alive in broad daylight and all he did was smile like he was watching it happen for sport.

“if you keep lookin’ at me like that,” he warned, brushing the tip of his nose along her jaw, “i’m gonna start thinking you want something else fixed too,”

her hand shot out, pressing lightly— hesitantly— against his chest, like she meant to stop him, but the way her fingers curled into the fabric told a different story.

caleb stilled at the touch, his eyes meeting hers again. this time, his grin was gone, replaced by an intense, honest look. 

“you can tell me if i’m pushing too hard,’ he said quietly, fingers ghosting along the outside of her knee. “i’ll back off. i will. you just gotta say it.”

she shook her head, quick and small. “you’re not— i don’t want you to back off.” 

the words were barely a whisper, but they landed like thunder and they were all he needed.

his mouth was on hers again, hungrier this time. not rough, but deeper, fuller, like he wanted to know what it tasted like when he resolve cracked. one hand cradled the back of her neck, thumb stroking soft at the nape as he tilted her chin up just enough to kiss her better. the other slid along her side, slow and reverent, like he was mapping out places he’d memorize later.

she melted into him, fingers gripping his shirt like she was afraid he’d vanish. 

caleb pressed closer, chest to chest, the edge of the hood biding gently at the backs of her thighs. the car groaned under their weight, and she made a startled sound that broke the kiss, but he only grinned.

“don’t worry,” he breathed out. “i reinforced the suspension last time you brought it in. guess i had a feelin’.”

she buried her face in his shoulder, mortified. he laughed, low and warm, wrapping his arms around her as if that would keep her from melting straight into the pavement from embarrassment.

he dipped  back down to her lips, catching her in another kiss, this one messier. less patient. like her permission had flipped a switch in him and now he couldn’t be bothered to hold back anymore.

caleb’s fingers dragged up the hem of her shirt, palms slipping under the soft fabric to feel the curve of her waist and the warmth of her skin beneath his calloused hands.

she gasped, jolting when he tugged it up over her ribs, fingers fumbling as she tried to stop him. 

“c-caleb— !” she whispered, voice high and panicked as her shirt bunched under her arms. “someone might see!”  she lightly scolded, cheeks pink.

he paused, just long enough to murmur against her throat, “nobody’s gonna see, baby. this is my lot, my garage. don’t worry.” 

“but my car— “

“forget the car,” he groaned, dragging the shirt over her head anyway, her arms caught awkwardly in the sleeves as he wrestled with it. “damn it, it’s like undressin’ a stubborn toddler— “

“i’m trying!” she let out, flushed all over as he finally get her shirt off and tossed it onto a nearby seat. “but if someone walks by and… and what if it makes noise again? you said it was on it’s last legs, caleb…”

he pulled back just enough to look at her, exasperated but grinning wide, chest heaving just a little. 

“i don’t wanna hear about you talking about this stupid thing while i’m getting my hands on you, alright?” 

he wiped his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of grease across his forehead. “here, hold this wrench for me, would ya?” he asked, pressing the cool metal into her palm, as she grasped it, he used the opportunity to hook his fingers into the waistband of his coveralls bunched around his waist and tug them down, exposing more of his tanned, muscular thighs till the fabric pooled around his ankles. 

caleb easily plucked the wrench from her hands and dropped it back into the toolbox, the loud clatter causing her to scrunch her nose before his calloused fingers moved to burst against the smooth skin of her inner thighs. 

“shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “no one’s going to hear us. i promise. you trust me, right?” 

she clumsily nodded, sniffling softly as her hands moved to settle on his strong forearms, a shaky breath leaving her. 

his fingers crept higher, hooking into the waistband of her panties and tugging them down with a swift tug, letting them drop to the ground and gently pinching her thigh to get her to step out of them. 

“turn around for me, baby,” he commanded softly, his voice low and rough with desire. “let me see that pretty back of yours.”

almost in a trance, she allowed him to guide her, turning to face the hood of her car, gasping softly as caleb pressed against her and forced her to lean forward onto it. 

caleb’s hands slid over the curve of her ass, squeezing the firm globes appreciatively. “aren’t you just the prettiest thing…” he groaned, leaning down to press a hot kiss to the nape of her neck. “i could just eat you up.”

she felt his hard cock pressed against her bare ass, the heat of him searing her skin as hr rolled his hips. 

caleb’s breathing grew heavier as he positioned himself behind her, thick cock pressing against her ass. he wrapped a hand around his shaft, giving it a few slow pumps before notching the swollen head at her entrance. the sensation of his hot flesh pressing against her sensitive fold made her gasp and squirm.

“fuck, you’re so wet already,” caleb groaned. without warning, he spat crudely into his palm, slicking up his hard length with the makeshift lubricant. 

the crude gesture had her huff in disapproval, her brows furrowing. “you’re so gross,” she whined, feeling a mix of embarrassment and reluctant excitement mixed with her faint disgust.

he just chuckled, amused by her cute display of discomfort. “what’s wrong now? getting shy on me?” 

before she could respond, he gripped her hips tightly and thrust forward, burying himself deep inside of her with one hard stroke. a loud cry of pleasure escaped her lips, only to be muffled by caleb’s quick thinking as he shoved two thick fingers into her mouth. 

“shh, remember what you said about someone hearin’ us?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. his hips began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained before slamming back in, driving into her with deep, powerful thrusts.

each snap of his hips rocked her forward, the hood of her car creaking softly beneath her with the force of his rough coupling. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air as he fucked her hard and fast.

“you’re being so loud, baby,” he teased, his voice a low, lust-filled rasp. “someone’s going to hear you.” 

to emphasize the point, he pressed his palm firmly against the palm of her back, forcing her to arch it, to lean forward until her breasts were flat against the car hood.

the new angle allow him to drive into her even deeper than before, thick cock kissing her cervix with each brutal thrust.

“fuck, you liked them, hm?”

her whimpers and moans only grew louder, more desperate, as he fucked her with wild abandon. in response, caleb shoved his fingers deeper into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue until her mewls were muffled.

drool began to leak out around his thick fingers, words and moaned pleas coming out in garbled words and whines as her tongue feverishly worked against the digits, but caleb simply kept pressing down enough to keep her pleasured sounds quieted as best as he could.

caleb was relentless, hips never slowing their punishing pace. he could feel her body tensing, her cunt fluttering around his thick shaft as her climbx approached. he knew she was close, could sense her desperation to cum, to find release from the overwhelming pleasure he was inflicting upon her willing body.

“cum for me, baby,“ he growled, his voice a dark, seductive command. “cum all over my cock like a good girl, m’kay? you can do that for me, right?” his words were punctuated by a particularly hard thrust. and easily, she fell apart beneath him, hands attempting to cling to anything but unable too, hair shielding her face as he had her pressed against the hood.

her body shook as her orgasm crashed over her, waves of intense pleasure radiating through every nerve ending. 

caleb groaned long and low as he felt her pussy clench and ripple around his shaft,  her release triggering his own. with one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside of her, cock pulsing and throbbing as he spilled his hot seed deep inside of her spasming walls. 

finally spent, caleb slumped forward, his muscular chest pressing against her back and pinning her to the warm and now stick hood of her car. 

the both of them were panting, chests heaving in attempt to catch their breath in the aftermath of their passionate coupling. he nuzzled in her neck, lips brushing against her swear-damp skin as he placed soft kisses along her nape.

“mm, that was incredible. you’re incredible.” caleb murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. “i could just stay like this forever.” 

she just let out a tired huff, almost pouty. “you’re squishing me, caleb.” she complained lightly. “i can barely breathe with you slumped on top of me like this.”

caleb just laughed, a deep rumbling godsend that vibrated through his chest and into hers. “sorry,” he chuckled, finally pulling away and relieving the pressure on her back. “i guess i got a little carried away there.”

as he sat up, she felt his softening length slip out of her, a gush of combined fluids leaking out and trickling down her inner thighs slowly. the sensation made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. caleb, noticing her discomfort, smirked wickedly at her.

“here, let me help you out,” he offered, his voice dripping with false innocence. before she could stop him, he reached down and smeared the lingering remains of his release along the insides of her thighs, marking her as his. 

“caleb!” she yelped out, trying to bat his hands away as he purposefully smeared the excess on his cock on her sensitive skin. “stop that! it’s already all sticky and gross..” 

he just laughed at her flustered reaction, grabbing her hands and hauling her upright with ease. “you’re so cute when you’re all disheveled and uncomfortable like this,” he teased, eyes glinting with amusement.   

she pouted up at him, cheeks burning still as she extended her arm to reach for her shirt, knowing she couldn’t properly reach it and caleb would go get it for her. “you’re such a jerk,” she murmured, but there was no heat behind her words.

caleb wordlessly moved to get her shirt for her, pressing it easily into her hands. “but i’m your jerk, i hope.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, warm and unhurried.

she huffed and tried to look unimpressed, even as her fingers curled into the hem of the shirt he’d never taken off like they didn’t want to let go. 

“come on,” he said gently, brushing her hair from her face with a grease-smudged thumb. “let’s clean you up and get you somethin’ to drink. you look all tuckered out.” 

she blinked up at him, flushed and fussy, still trying to tuck herself back into some semblance of composure. then, with a little breathless pout, she muttered under her breath, “and who’s fault is that?” 

caleb froze for half a second before letting out a laugh, squeezing her closer as he wrapped an arm around her waist, allowing her to lean against him on her wobbly legs.

he didn’t need to say anything, he could see the flustered expression on her face at just the sound of his laughter, catching the faintest ghost of a smile she was trying to hide in her efforts to be ‘upset’ with him. 

and god, did he love that— how easily she softened for him, even when she didn’t mean to. how her stubborn little protests melted under his touch.

if every busted belt and crooked alignment brought her back to him, again and again, then he hoped her car never ran right. 

𝐚/𝐧: i've been trying to write this for at least 3 weeks but i just couldn't get from point a (whatever the fuck i was writing) to point b (where i wanted it to eventually lead). we'll see if i delete this later. mechanic caleb one day ill do u justice...

[kxsagi]

hihihi!!! i was wondering if you could do a pt 2 of the bride's polaroid's but with rin, yukimiya, and any other characters u would like!! thank u mwa mwa :33

“𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐”

a/n: i'm glad that people are liking pt. 1! ofc i had to deliver pt. 2 and thank you for being patient 🤍

ft. itoshi rin, yukimiya kenyu, shidou ryusei

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧

he’s suspicious the second your maid of honor walks up to him with a sly smile and an envelope tucked behind her back. “she told me to give this to you before the ceremony,” she says, and rin takes it reluctantly, side-eyeing the bridesmaids giggling in the corner like this is a setup. 

because he knows you. and he knows that when you’re nervous, you get impulsive. he can already feel something unholy waiting inside that envelope, so he opens it slowly, heart thudding. 

the first thing he sees is skin. a lot of it. his entire body jerks like he’s been electrocuted. 

“what the fu–” he whispers, snapping the envelope shut like the polaroids personally insulted his blood pressure. he blinks at the floor, stunned, trying to reboot his brain. then he checks again, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. nope. you’re definitely wearing that lace thing he told you he liked in passing once. only that lace thing. maybe less. 

he flips to the next photo and feels his soul leave his body. 

now his hands are shaking. he glances around, panicking. no one can see this. no one should see this. it’s a sin. he’s already planning to burn it and also guard it with his life. rin tucks the envelope inside his suit jacket with such urgency, you’d think it was a state secret. 

someone asks what it was and he glares, cheeks red. “mind your business.” 

later, when he sees you walking down the aisle, veil soft around your face, looking all angelic and innocent, he narrows his eyes. 

you are a menace, he thinks, heart racing. but also, you're his menace. 

and someone help him, he’s never been more in love. 

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮

when he’s handed the envelope, yukimiya thinks it’s a letter. a sentimental note. something poetic and sweet. so he opens it with this soft smile, already rehearsing the romantic things he’ll say to you after reading it. 

then he pulls out the first polaroid. 

and promptly forgets how to breathe. 

his eyebrows shoot up, lips parting in genuine awe. oh. oh, you didn’t write anything, you posed. posed in that lingerie set he half-jokingly sent you a link to two months ago. except now it’s not a joke, it’s very real, and he is officially the luckiest man alive. 

“my goodness,” he whispers, blinking at the photo like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. 

he’s quiet for a while. just taking his time with each polaroid. handling them like they’re priceless artwork. he’s not even thinking indecent thoughts, he’s just floored by you. by how beautiful you are. how confident, how thoughtful. it’s the most intimate kind of present. and it’s for him. 

when he finally looks up, his cheeks are flushed and there’s a dreamy glint in his eyes. “she really did this for me,” he says, to no one in particular, sounding absolutely smitten. 

one of the groomsmen teases him and he just laughs, all flustered. “i’m marrying the most stunning woman on the planet. i’m allowed to gloat.” 

he tucks the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit like it’s sacred and keeps checking it every few minutes, like he needs to reassure himself that it’s real. later, he pulls you into a quiet corner after the ceremony and leans in, voice low and warm. 

“those photos were dangerous,” he murmurs against your ear, brushing his lips over your cheek. “you’re not sleeping on our wedding night, you know that, right?” 

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢

the moment one of your bridesmaids slips him the envelope, shidou’s grinning like he’s just been handed a lottery ticket. “what’s this, huh?” he drawls, already shaking it next to his ear like it’ll talk back. “a secret mission from my sexy bride?” 

he doesn’t wait. he never waits. just rips it open right there with zero shame, surrounded by his groomsmen, a few cousins, and, unfortunately, your grandma. 

he pulls out the first photo. his jaw drops. 

“OH HELL YEAH,” he shouts, holding it up like it’s his new prized possession. “SHE’S TRYNA END ME BEFORE THE CEREMONY EVEN STARTS!” 

the room goes silent for a second. then erupts into chaos. people laugh, someone gasps, and your grandma clutches her pearls. but shidou? he’s thriving. flips through the photos like a guy watching a fireworks show. each new picture gets a new reaction – whistles, groans, straight up kneeling on the floor at one point. 

“this woman is gonna be the death of me,” he mutters dramatically, lying on his back like he’s been slain. “what a way to go though.” 

he clutches the envelope to his chest and looks up at the ceiling. “i love her,” he sighs. “she’s a freak and she’s all mine.” 

some poor relative tries to walk past and accidentally glimpses a photo, and shidou just shrugs. “don’t look if you can’t handle greatness.” 

he pockets the polaroids like a dragon hoarding treasure and proudly announces, “these are coming on the honeymoon. framed. maybe laminated.” 

and when you finally see him at the altar, he winks at you like you just told him a dirty secret. 

“you’re in so much trouble later,” he mouths. 

and he absolutely means it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[existence-is-a-pain87]

A quick drabble as I try to escape the Writers Block I was trapped in:

They Hear You

Yandere!Self-Aware!Dandy's World x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, swearing

--☆☆☆☆☆--

They weren't entire sure when the first heard you. Nor were they sure why you were the first one they heard.

At that point, they had all long since become used to 'Players' in the 'game'. Using their bodies and facing against twisteds. Some people played many runs a day. Others used their bodies for 'roleplays'.

They were painfully familiar with all the copies of them that existed. Them being made to say things as their God created more. Tweaked things about them.

They always knew they were never real. But when they heard you?

They felt real.

Oh, so real.

You spoke. Often blabbling to yourself, unaware they could hear.

Even if they didn't remember the day they first heard you, they remember exactly what you said.

"Dang it, everyone's gone... I'm so fucked..."

And all of them heard. Even if many were not on the floor, they all heard.

And then you left. Shortly after dying. But before that,

You kept talking.

Babbling to yourself, asking Finn to leave you alone so you could complete that last machine, and giving up when a blackout occurred.

And when you rejoined the game later?

They heard you again.

--☆☆☆--

Everyone's reactions were different.

Some, like Boxten, were initially skeptical of you. Others, like Rodger, were curious. And even more, like Goob, were excited.

Shrimpo was angry.

How are they able to hear someone now? How dare it be you! HE HATES YOU!! HE HATES THAT HE LOVES HEARING YOU SPEAK, TOO!!

Shelly wondered if you liked her.

But none are as interested in you as Dandy is.

Oh! How she hoped you liked dinosaurs! What's this? You're wearing a dinosaur hoodie for good luck? Wow! You do love dinosaurs! You two would be great friends!

Glisten was surprised when he learnt how much you liked him.

He's your favorite? Well, why wouldn't he be! And look at you constantly trying to stay around his Twisted self. How sweet of you! Don't go leaving him now, though...

What's this about a 'Dandy Run'? Are you trying to ignore him?

He hates it when you don't buy from the shop.

So his stock is bad? He'll improve it! Huh- stop calling him 'Baldicus Baldifer' already!

He's the first Toon that falls in love with you.

The others are quick to follow.

--☆☆☆--

Soon things about your game start to change.

First they're weird, but small. Almost unnoticeable.

Like Twisteds being significantly less aggressive. Targetting anyone else you're playing with, seeming to do anything to avoid damaging whoever you're playing as. And if you do aggro them, they seem to lose aggro almost instantly.

But they do stay close. And never aggro on you when chasing the others.

Once you played Brightney and tried to get the Twisteds to aggro on you instead of anyone else.

It didn't work.

Then the changes get more noticeable.

You mention wanting research for a toon? Suddenly, their Twisted is on the next floor! And the one after that! And they're on there until you're satisfied!

They just want you to be happy.

Do you need a heal? Well, Dandy's shop is now selling both band-aids and medkits! And the next floor has a whole bunch littered about!

They don't want you to go. Go on, speak some more. They love hearing you talk.

You soon started to notice these changes. Often voicing your confusion. Especially when you started to get tons more ichor and research than ever.

Then the incident occured...

--☆☆☆--

It was a day not too different from any other.

But you were complaining about how every attempt at a Dandy Run failed, how you were just desperate to encounter him to complete the unlock requirement for Astro.

And Dandy heard these complaints. And he was annoyed.

Do you hate him? Were you trying to ignore him?

Then he realized it was just your silly little completionist brain.

My, aren't you just a silly thing, dewdrop! Had him worrying there, hehe.

So he decided to solve this little problem for you.

It didn't take long for the entire team you were with to be wiped out on the earlier levels, much to your disappointment. This wasn't even a Dandy Run, just your average Main Hunt.

Just ignore how the Twisteds were all rarer and weirdly aggressive...

And when you remarked about how you were going to die soon, it took everything in Dandy for him not to just jump out and tell you to wait a moment for his surprise.

Then, the elevator opened up to the next floor. And Dandy nearly grinned when the Toon you were playing ceased to move.

The floor was littered in research. Clearly over 100 capsules at least. And roaming past? A Twisted Dandy.

Immediately, he heard you start panicking. Wondering how he spawned despite the fact you were consistently buying things from him.

So you quickly just started collecting research, barely noticing how Twisted Dandy didn't aggro on you. Just roamed nearby. Always staying close.

Then you got confused how this floor had well over 100 capsules of Dandy research. It took one floor for you to have enough research for his trinket.

But this incident weirded you out. You were concerned your game was hacked. You didn't want to get banned.

So you stopped playing.

And they were NOT happy.

Thankfully, they figured out how to reach out to you in other Roblox games.

And Roblox just so happened to have your phone number for voice chat...

--☆☆☆--

The texts seemed to never end.

Questions of why you left. Begging you to return. Offering you anything you want to come back.

You kept blocking the unknown numbers. It didn't stop the texts.

You thought you were hacked.

And you soon decided to reply to one of these texts once to beg them to leave you alone.

Didn't you like my surprise?

You questioned what the surprise was.

Well, you wanted to encounter my Twisted form, yes?

This isn't Dandy.

Who else would he be other than Dandicus Dancifer himself?

You told them to leave you alone.

Come back to the game first and the texts will stop, dewdrop.

Why should you trust him?

Why shouldn't you?

--☆☆☆--

You returned to the game.

You don't know why. You're desperate and rather not change your phone number or Roblox account.

Even though you probably should've just deleted Roblox.

Oh well, you could just do it after this, couldn't you?

You think they'd let you go that easily?

Upon loading up, you spawned in one of the elevators on a private server you never bought.

They love you.

You had your classic Roblox avatar.

They're not losing you.

You began asking questions, demanding answers from the game.

They love you they love you they love you.

You didn't get a response.

Love love love love love love love love love love love.

They were all in awe.

Because, finally, after so long...

They could see you.

[owls0ma]

dark cacao is one of the most mischaracterized characters in cookie run and I don't see anybody talking about it

not a lot of you know this but dark cacao is my favourite character. he shares a spot with burning spice (begrudgingly, he HATES his insane ass)

and I look at people's different interpretations of him and I think they're cool! sometimes I'll see things they do and I'll use it as inspiration for my interpretation of him

but one headcanon of his that I despise with all my being is dark cacao having anger issues because it's so painfully out of character for him

he’s a serious character. he takes things seriously because he's a warrior, and he has to always have his guard up because he's constantly fighting the licorice sea. he’s also stubborn and strict, and he doesn't take bullshit from anyone. he's honestly probably one of the more patient characters in the game from what he's had to put up with in his life.

not a single one of those things makes him angry. he's just serious

sure, you could use the council scene and his fight with dark choco against me but here’s something i’ve noticed; the only time I’ve ever actually seen dark cacao get incredibly angry like that is when someone hits him in a sore spot. I'll start with the council scene

iirc it was just revealed that white lily cookie, one of his closest friends and allies, who was presumed dead at that point to everyone (except for pure vanilla) was revealed to be dark enchantress cookie, the cookie that started the dark flour war, killed his subjects, completely destroyed the golden cheese kingdom and the vanilla kingdom, and almost killed him, the other ancients, actually killed pure vanilla and several other cookies in the process. and he learned ALL OF THIS from a complete stranger and not from pure vanilla, who knew but chose not to say anything.

mind you, when he arrived in the vanilla kingdom, this had been the first time he had actually seen the place, as well as hollyberry and pure vanilla, since the dark flour war. I’m pretty sure anybody would get emotional after reuniting with old friends who you haven’t seen in a while (especially ones you thought were DEAD). Keeping in mind the fact that he was probably still processing the fact that pure Vanilla and hollyberry were both alive, and then after that getting hit with the fact that one of your other closest friends was revealed to be the cookie that almost killed you and your friends, is a lot of emotions, both positive and negative, to process in only a few days. all of this combined with immediately afterwards being compared to said cookie after everything she had done, COMPLETELY unprovoked, is what set dark cacao off

let's also not forget he had just gotten done dealing with affogato, one of his closest and most trusted denizens trying to kill him and steal his kingdom as well as the cookies of darkness trying to steal his soul jam

clotted cream compares dark cacao to dark enchantress because he's unwilling to share his soul jam. to the person who just dealt with someone attempting to steal his soul jam, on top of everything I mentioned before, it's no wonder he snapped

even pure vanilla, who agreed with clotted cream in that the ancients should share their soul jam told him afterwards he went too far 😭😭

now onto his fight with dark choco in episode 14

I’m pretty sure at this point it’s been established what happened between dark cacao and dark choco, so we can all assume that the topic of dark Choco is a sore spot for dark cacao. which, fair enough, his own son tried to KILL HIM

seeing dark choco again after so long, especially under the circumstances that he appeared in the dark cacao kingdom, would result in a mixed bag of emotions. When dark cacao first saw dark choco again, he seemed pretty surprised to see him. he wasn’t immediately angry, and that was most likely because deep down he really missed dark choco, and he wanted him to come back, but he wanted him to do it on his own, hence why he didn’t go looking for him directly (which has been directly stated by dark cacao to hollyberry in their kingdom interaction). and after that, dark cacao learns of affogato's betrayal, and then gets pushed off the great wall.

now, this is the second time dark choco has tried to kill dark cacao. the first time was all those years ago when dark choco was much younger, and he hadn't seen him since that point

so no wonder his reaction is to get angry because. I dunno, if I was a father and my son tried to kill me twice, I'd be pretty pissed too.

their later interaction when they fight after dark cacao had gotten his sword out of the tomb of blades is where dark cacao says "It is my life's greatest regret to have called you my son" to dark choco. he says it out of a place of hurt and anger because iirc dark choco had just threatened to lay waste to the citadel with dark enchantress' armies (whom he mentions by name, and we all know by now that she's a sore subject for him)

we know he didn't truly mean this when he says his big speech to dark choco after their fight concludes, in which he apologises to dark choco for how he was raised

he got mad and said things he didn't mean because of his complicated relationship with his son, not because he has anger issues

it genuinely upsets me to see people take this amazingly written character and just dumb him down to "grumpy peepaw with anger issues" because he isn't that, he's so much more than the fandom portrays him as and it upsets me that nobody sees that

anyways sorry for the yapping this subject means a lot to me lol

[cacartoon]

Ay there saw ur fairytale designs n they look p lovely i was wondering whats ur interpretation on snow white , rupinzel and cinderellas story

Ok time for me to geek out over fairytales that are so ancient they all deserve senior discounts (sorry if my descriptions aren’t the best)

Also I’ll do this one at a time because I’m about to try and story book this.

SNOW WHITE

Snow White is the only child of a kind king and queen.

Before her birth, the queen was an artist, who saw beauty and value in just about anything. While painting in the winter, she had dropped the apple she was eating. The queen couldn’t forget the striking beauty of the red apple against the pure white snow, and the ebony trees pulling it together. She painted that exact scene and told the king, “I hope for our child to be just like this. Pure and bold, yet gentle and beautiful”. Soon Snow White was born. Unfortunately the Queen couldn’t recover from the birth, and died not long after.

As time went on the king was pressured into another marriage, and so he wedded the new queen. Though a striking beauty, she was truly vain and cruel. She’d scoff at the late queen’s paintings and creations, and brought a chill into what was normally a warm and inviting home. She had many mirrors, and her favorite was one from her homeland. Whenever she asked the question, “My dear my magic mirror, tell me so, whom in this land is the fairest? Tell me true” and the mirror would tell her that it was she who was the fairest, for it was all that it’s ever seen. Until one day, Snow White, now a young lady, came across the mirror not knowing it was enchanted. The mirror saw true beauty as she’d assist the serving girls with carrying trays, offering to clean up the guards’ shields and weapons after a long days work, speak warmly of her late mother’s art to guests, and watched a blossoming romance between her and a neighboring prince, who were the bestest of friends.

One day, the new queen asked her mirror the same question, “My dear my magic mirror, tell me so, whom in this land is the fairest? Tell me true.”, only this time the mirror said a new answer. “My queen, though your beauty is striking and rare, Snow White is truly pure and far more fair”. The queen became enraged. She never really cared for children, and this was her final straw. Snow White was to be taken cared of, and she’d soon see a chance.

A message arrived at the castle from one of the kingdom’s allies. The King was summoned for immediate assistance, along with men and supplies. Soon he left, leaving his beloved daughter and wife alone to care for the kingdom. The wicked queen summoned a huntsman, one of her many servants who joined her from her homeland, and gave him the following orders. “Huntsman, tomorrow you are to escort the princess to the woods to pick fresh fruit. And there, you are to execute her. And to bring me proof? Bring her heart, for I want to be the one to crush it.”

The next day Snow White and the huntsman arrived at the edge of the woods where a great apple tree and berry bushes grew. It was a hot day, but this did not deter Snow White. She happily picked the fruits, even offering apples and berries to the huntsman. Even more, she gave him fresh water she had brought for the journey, as the huntsman was sweaty and tired from the heat. The kindness of this girl touched the huntsman, so much so he wept. Snow White comforted the huntsman, but was taken aback by what she heard next. The huntsman confessed his true intentions, revealing the wicked jealousy of the queen. He begged and begged for the princess to forgive him. Though she was hurt by the news, and frightened, she continued to comfort the man. “Please my princess, you must flee! I cannot bear to watch you perish at the hands of one so cruel.” Snow White wept, “But what about you? She will surely punish you!” The huntsman helped the girl to her feet, “I may have been loyal to my queen, I have a new crown to protect. You. Now go!” Snow White thanked the huntsman and fled into the woods as fast as she could.

The huntsman returned to the castle, hiding his rage and scorn. He had brought a boar heart instead to fool the queen. She was delighted as she crushed the heart. The queen then told her subjects and loyal friends of the princess’s “fate”, and ordered a message to be sent to the king. The princess, was dead…

The sun was rising, the woods once again showed light. Snow White tripped and stumbled over rocks and roots of trees. Her golden dress down torn and ripped, her ebony hair loose and messy, and her freckled face flushed from exhaustion and tears. She had been running all night. Snow White hadn’t the slightest clue where she was going. All she thought of was her poor father. She couldn’t go home until he had returned, if she could get home at all. As she trudged through the dense woods she saw a well. Without hesitation she fetched water from it and drank. Then she spotted a little cottage. The cottage was simple, yet oddly welcoming. She knocked to see if anyone was home, but no one answered. The door was left unlocked. Inside were dishes and clothes strewn about, dust covering shelves, and pickaxes worn and covered in dirt. Snow White was shocked. “Now this can’t be just left like this. No one should live like this.” Though tired and hungry, she immediately began to tidy up. Helping the servants and guards for years had taught her many skills, though she wasn’t nearly as good as the true professionals. She swept, she dusted, she washed and scrubbed. Soon the cottage was tidy and clean. Snow White was proud at her work, but now was even more tired. Her sudden cleaning job also made her think. She had wandered into a house that wasn’t hers, and she had drank from their well and imposed herself to do their chores. And now seeing how tired she was, she knew eventually she’d have to rest. But she continued to work, even making fresh bread as she was truly now hungry. As the bread cooled she grabbed a nearby paper and quill and wrote a note. As her eyes grew heavy, she took off a pearl necklace had had been wearing and placed it with the note. Snow White then fell into a deep sleep there on the ground.

Some miles from the cottage was a cave, and in that cave was a mine. The mine was filled with minerals and jewels, veins of gold and silver. And in the mine were little men hard at work, 7 in total. The leader, Oswald, wrote down all their findings. The biggest, Leopold, hauled heavy bags filled with priceless gems to carts. Another with one, Phillipe, inspected the jewels and other metals. A blindfolded one, Merlin, felt the caves for new veins with such accuracy. One with one eye, Harold, smelted down the gold and silver. The eldest, which they all called Grandpa, crushed down minerals into fine powders. And the youngest, Oliver, watched his elders with wide eyes. Oswald called his fellow miners, for it was time to return home with their treasures. With their carts, they left the mines and returned to their….clean cottage? They had been gone for some time, this haul being very large, and were stunned by their home looking better than usual. The men grew wary, could an intruder have played a joke on them? As they inspected their home, Oliver came across a shocking sight. The men gathered and saw on their ground a girl, quietly sleeping. “Who is she?” “Where did she come from?” “What has happened to her?” Oswald picked up the note she had written and read it aloud. “To the owners of the cottage. I am truly sorry I entered your home without your consent. I had been running for quite some time. I’m sure you’re a little confused by my actions, and I’m truly sorry if I offended you. I do not expect forgiveness nor will I stay. But please, accept my pearls as a payment regardless. Your well and home have saved me. And for that, I owe you many thanks.” “-Princess Snow White”, Oswald read. The men couldn’t speak. This girl was a princess? Phillipe inspected the pearls, they were real alright. “What should we do, Grandpa?”, asked Oswald. Grandpa spoke, “Let’s allow the girl some sleep, though I don’t believe the floor is proper for a lady.” “She can use our spare. I’ll take her there”, Leopold said. He carefully picked up Snow White and they all helped her into another room of the cottage. There they laid her to continue her sleep. Once they closed the door, Oswald and his family agreed, “We shall ask more in the morning. For now, let’s let her rest.”

Snow White’s eyes fluttered open from a stream of light. It was morning now, and she was…in a bed? She sat up and yawned. Then she looked around. “How did I?…”, she said to herself. There was a sudden knock at the door, which made her jump, “Oh! Um, come in!” The door opened and the men trailed in. Snow White gasped, the owners. She quickly got up from the bed, her face filled with guilt, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to impose on all of you! Thank you for your hospitality! I shall take my leave!” “Now now hold on there my dear.”, Oswald stopped her, “There’s no need for apologies. We’re all more curious than offended.” Snow White steadied her nerves, though that didn’t do much. “You are Snow White, correct? The princess?”, Oswald asked. Snow White nodded. Oswald continued, “Please, tell us what has happened to you.” The men listened to Snow White’s tale of distress. How the queen had ordered her execution but she was spared, how she ran and ran until she couldn’t no more, and how her discovery and subsequent cleaning session occurred. Snow White then stated, “And as my note says, please accept my pearls as payment. I know I’ve done wrong by entering your home, imposing myself on your chores, drinking your water, and using your materials to make bread. I am deeply sorry. I shall take my leave if you insist upon it.” “That will not be necessary.” Grandpa cut in, his old cane making a little sound with every step, “You appear to mean us no harm, actually quite the opposite. Though odd for a first instinct, you have nothing to worry about.” “And besides,” , Harold began, “what kind of hosts would we be if we let a young lady be sent back into the woods?” “Can she stay with us?”, Oliver asked. The men looked at each other and nodded. Oswald turned to Snow White, “That is, if you’d like to stay here. We can’t offer much, but you’re more than welcome to share our home.” Snow White’s eyes were filled with tears, and her smile returned to her face, “You really mean it? Why yes! Yes of course! Oh! But please no need to show me special treatment. I can help! I can cook and clean and keep home. If that’s okay?” The men smiled and laughed. “I hope you can make a good stew if you’re offering.”, Harold joked. “And you certainly will not be doing any work in that. We’ll get you proper clothing if you’re to hide here with us”, interjected Phillipe. “That settles it then.”, said Oswald, “The guest room is yours, princess. And I believe I speak for us all when I say, you may stay here as long as you’d like.” Snow White eyes lit up, and her smile warmed up the room, “Thank you…Thank you so much. And please, call me Snow.”

Back at the castle, the queen wore a mourning face. The servants and guards were quiet, no one smiled or laughed. How could they? Their dear princess was no more. The king’s letter ordered a period of mourning, and upon his arrival home they would hold a proper ceremony to honor his daughter. Once alone, the queen was giddy! She arrive at her mirror and asked the same question, “My dear my magic mirror, tell me so, whom in this land is the fairest? Tell me true!” The mirror spoke, “My dear queen, though your beauty is striking and rare, hidden in the woods in a cottage , Snow White is far more pure and fair.” The queen’s glee turned sour. How?! How could she be alive?! She realized she had been tricked. Pure rage filled her face, and then panic. The king would soon learn the truth! She had to act and act fast.

Meanwhile, Snow White was now simply Snow. Her torn royal robes now replaced with average peasant clothing, courtesy of Phillipe. She spent her days keeping the cottage tidy and clean. Snow prepped hardy and filling meals, and the men savored each bite. They returned each day with fine jewels and metals and showed her the art of jewelry and metal works. Once their treasures were made, some of the men would travel to a town to sell their goods. They’d bring back supplies and food with the money. The cottage had never been so lively. Snow would hum songs as she worked. She would clean the pickaxes with Leopold and Harold, sew and mend clothes with Phillipe, read poems and tell stories with Oswald and Merlin, and help care for Grandpa and Oliver.

One day, the men had to leave for another large haul in the mines, and Snow was left to her chores. She was hanging to laundry when an old woman walked on through a bush and got caught on the thorns. Snow quickly helped the old woman and check her over for injuries. The old lady laughed, “I’m alright my dear, no worry. Thank you for being so kind. Would you care to see my laces? I was on my way to town to sell them.” Snow’s eyes sparkled at the laces, many shimmered in beautiful colors. The one that caught her eye though was a crimson red lace, a simple yet elegant piece. She taken out her little pouch of money from helping the men with their jewelry and paid for the lace. “Allow me to help you with that.” , the old woman offered. She laced up Snow’s dress and bid the girl farewell. As Snow looked at her lace with glee, she began to feel a tight pain. Her breathes were growing faint, and she could stand. The lace was pulling tighter either every breath until she collapsed onto the cottage floor. Later the men returned to the cottage, carrying another large haul of goods when they gasped. They hurried to Snow’s side, frantically trying to wake her. Grandpa grew serious and ordered the lace to be cut. Without hesitation, Phillipe cut the lace. Then the lace morphed into snakes! The men were startled and tossed the snakes outside, and they slithered away. Snow’s eyes began to open once more. “Snow, what happened?! Who did this?!”, they asked. Snow told of her encounter today and dread ran down all their necks. There was only one person it could be; the queen. Snow looked ashamed at being tricked. They called a house meeting and all agreed, Snow needed better protection. The next day they got to work. Grandpa and Merlin showed Snow the minerals they gathered and how they made elixirs and cures. Leopold gifted Snow a little dagger to keep on her person at all times. Oswald and Harold showed Snow what poisons to be wary of. And to comfort her, Phillipe made snow new laces, ones far more beautiful and elegant than the one that almost took her life. Oliver, who had grown quite attached to Snow, insisted on staying back to protect her every day. The me didn’t oppose, perhaps another pair of eyes would be useful. Snow thanked her friends for all their help, and learned all she could from them. She hoped this wouldn’t happen again.

“My dear my magic mirror, tell me so, whom in this land is now the fairest? Tell me true!”, the queen asked the mirror. The mirror again told her, “My dear queen, though your beauty is striking and rare, hidden in the woods in a cottage , Snow White is far more pure and fair.” The queen shrieked in rage. Her plan had failed! She ordered more materials from her servants. This time she couldn’t fail!

The seasons began to change, it was now autumn. The woods were now orange and yellow, and the air grew colder. Snow and the little men worked together to prepare for winter. They chopped woods, gathered roots and berries, and all while laughing and joking. On one of these days, they all entered the woods to gather herbs. They split up into groups to cover more ground. While Snow was picking herbs, she heard a twig snap! She readied her dagger, remembering what Leopold taught her, and stood her ground. Before she could act she was thrown back to the ground. Another person had collided with her, tripping on a rock. The stranger apologized profusely, and then stopped. Their eyes met. Snow recognized that voice. The prince she grew up with, who was her best friend, “Archie?!””Snowy?!”, he cried. They two friends begun to cheer and laugh, and immediately threw themselves into each other’s arms. Archie cried as he held his old friend close, and Snow wept into his shoulder. “We were told you were torn apart by wild beasts…”, he said. Before Snow could explain, the men quickly arrived, ready to defend Snow from another attempt. Snow stopped them and joyfully introduced Archie. Archie was a friendly fellow. Very warm and very inviting. The men and Snow led Archie to the cottage where they spoke and caught up. Snow explained her story and Archie’s eyes filled with anger. He explained the queen told everyone that she was dead! Archie felt ashamed for being so easily tricked and wanted to confront the queen himself. Snow stopped him, and told him that until the king returned he could not. The men allowed the two some time alone and Snow told Archie everything. Archie had only been on a hunting expedition, only to find his friend hiding as a peasant, waiting for her father to return to expose the queen’s lies without putting anyone in danger. Archie understood. More than anything he was thrilled Snow was okay! They embraced and Archie promised he’d return again, checking up on Snow and the men to ensure their safety. He thanked the men profusely for protecting Snow, and left to return to his castle.

On one of Archie’s visits, now also disguised as a peasant to conceal his involvement in protecting Snow White, an old man stumbled near the well and wheezed. The youth hurried to help the man and gave him water. The old man thanked the pair . As Snow left to the cottage to return the cup they used, the old man saw the love in Archie’s eyes. He told the lovestruck prince, “I see you are in love, and I too once had a girl I cared for. And as a sign of good faith, please accept this hair piece. It was my late wife’s and we had no children. I know she’d be honored if a new couple could continue our tradition.” Archie, hesitantly eyed the comb and accepted it. It was a simple piece, possibly silver. The old man wished the prince good luck with his courtship and left. Snow and Oliver were washing dishes when Archie entered the cottage and presented the piece to Snow. Snow was touched by the gift. Oliver was confused, now understanding women’s fashion. Snow and Archie laughed and demonstrated for the young boy. Snow placed the hair piece into her hair and twirled, showing off her new look. The boys laughed and clapped and Snow bowed. Then she shot up! Her eyes were wide, she couldn’t speak. Archie and Oliver hurried to her side and she slumped over. The hair piece was digging into her scalp! Archie quickly got the hair piece off Snow and tossed it away. It morphed into a black widow spider, it hissed at the youngsters. Oliver hurried out the door and ran to the mine to bring the other men. Archie held Snow and cried out, trying to wake her. The men returned quickly. Merlin felt Snow’s head and ordered herbs and minerals. They quickly gathered up the supplies and were told to put it in water. Doing as they were told, they presented the elixir to Merlin. Merlin told Archie to have Snow drink it and quickly. Archie did as he was told, helping Snow drink. It was silent for a moment…and then Snow coughed. Her breath returned, though labored. Archie held her close and told the men what had occurred, and begged for forgiveness. The men comforted the couple, relieved that again they avoided a tragic loss. That night they came up with a new plan. It was no longer safe for Snow to stay at the cottage. None of them were safe. Archie invited the men and Snow to his castle, at least there they’d be guarded. It would take time though to prepare for more guests. They agreed, saying they had to prep the cottage for a long leave.

“My dear my magic mirror, tell me so, whom in this land is now the fairest? Tell me true!”, the queen asked the mirror. The mirror again told her, “My dear queen, though your beauty is striking and rare, hidden in the woods in a cottage , Snow White is far more pure and fair.” The queen was now engulfed in rage. She had tried the laces, and failed. She had tried the hair piece, and she failed again! Her attempts were thwarted time and time again and soon the king would return from his journey! She thought long and hard. She needed a plan that would ensure Snow White would never return. And she looked at the late queen’s old painting….a single apple among the winter snow. And evil grin now on her face.

Winter was fast approaching. The men stayed at the cottage now that the weather was turning cold. Soon they’d head to Archie’s castle to hunker down for the winter. The king was to return by spring, and so all they had to do was lay low. They gathered apples and berries to bring on their journey. Snow picked as many as she could when one caught her eye. While the others were a mix of yellows and reds, this one was fully red and ripe. She thought back to the painting her mother made before her birth and her heart filled with sadness. She picked the apple and kept it close, returning to the men with her bounty. They all sat and rested. They enjoyed their little snacks and Snow had the apple she picked just for herself. As she bit into it she thought of her father, how happy she’ll be once she reunites with him soon. She thought of the men who risked their safety for hers. And Archie, the prince who she had fallen in love with and was ready to help her and her friends. Snow felt her worried were almost over….and then she collapsed. The men hurried to her. They gave her elixirs and herbs, but nothing woke her. Grandpa and Merlin inspected the apple, and horror spread across them all. It was enchanted. No herb or elixir would save Snow this time. They tried in vain to wake up their friend, but it was no use. They started to weep.

The queen asked her mirror once again, “My dear my magic mirror, tell me so, whom in this land is now the fairest? Tell me true!” The mirror spoke, “My queen…it is now you…” She cackled and cheered! She had done it! Now all that was left to to keep the king in the dark.

The men carried Snow back to the cottage. They made her comfortable, flowers lined her bed. Oswald called for his fellow men, newfound determination filled him even if it was only a little, “ We’ve come this far just to quit? Did she quit when she ran? When she offered her services? When she kept escaping death’s grip time and time again? I think not!” The others wanted to cheer, but they were uncertain. Grandpa spoke, his voice low but still a little hopeful, “If none of our elixirs and cures can help, then I’ll continue to find a way…” “We must tell Archie of the news, he might be able to help.”, said Merlin. Harold left the cottage with Leopold and Oliver, as fast as they could to Archie’s kingdom.

Meanwhile Archie and his castle staff had prepared fine rooms and essentials for Snow White and the men. Though Archie was growing worried. It was still a few days ride from the castle to the cottage. Hopefully the snow didn’t slow them down. And then suddenly the castle doors swung open as Harold, Leopold, and Oliver hurried to Archie. As they told their story, Archie’s heart dropped.

The party returned with Archie, who now gazed upon Snow White’s face. It’s like she wasn’t even dead. Grandpa and Merlin looked tired, they had been searching for answers. Oswald and Phillipe stayed by the princess’s side, praying. Archie heart ached, if only he had been there. They all moved aside as Archie knelt down to Snow White’s side. He took her hand and wept, “I’m so sorry Snow…” Grandpa spoke up, his hope now dashed, “I’ve looked through everything I could…I couldn’t find a way to break the enchantment…” The men wept for their lost friend. Archie pressed his forehead against Snow White’s, “I love you Snow White…and I hope somehow you’ll know…” He gently kissed her forehead, a kiss farewell, and bowed his head…

A glow began to shine from Snow White’s throat. Everyone stopped and watched in awe as the apple piece that had been caught in her throat had lost its enchantment. Snow White coughed up the piece and began to breathe once again. She opened her eyes and sat up, and looked around, “What happened?…Are we at your home already Archie?” The men and Archie cheered with joy and wept happy tears. Archie hugged Snow White tight, and Snow White simply smiled and went along with it. They explained what had happened, and Snow White now understood. She got up from her bed, now standing tall and determined. “My step mother had tricked me, and tried to take my life. And she used my mother’s memory to do it. If her offenses weren’t treasonous enough, now she had truly crossed the line. Now my friends, we must hurry and plan our next move. For if she’s now stooped to this point to end me, I can only wonder what she’ll do to my father.” They all left the cottage and left to Archie’s castle, planning their next move.

Spring had finally arrived. The king was now home, and mourning had begun. Everyone in the castle was quiet, only soft weeps were heard. The king looked upon the old paintings of his wife and now his daughter. How could he fail them both…The wicked queen comforted her husband, now fully satisfied she convinced him of Snow White’s demise. A messenger arrived and told the king and queen their ally, Prince Archibald and his entourage have arrived for an audience. They met the young prince who had his men with him. Not just his men, but 7 smaller men and his wife’s huntsman too. The king was happy to see the young prince he had watch grow from a boy to a man, but his heart grew sad as he told of Snow White’s fate. Archie stood tall and informed the king he and all the kingdom have been tricked by the queen. The queen scoffed and lied, saying grief had clouded his mind. The king asked if there was proof of these allegations. The seven men presented the king with their proof. The snakes that once were laces, the spider who was once a hair piece, the apple that was still fully ripe and red with a piece missing. Then, Prince Archie presented his evidence. Walking past him to the king was none other than SNOW WHITW!!! She was back in royal robes, her hair and face adorned in jewels and gold made by her friends, and she was very much alive. The queen was silent. The king ran to his daughter in joy and hugged her tight, weeping. Snow White cried with her father, overjoyed. “Is this true child?”, the king asked. Snow White nodded, “I’m afraid it’s all true.” Suddenly guards arrive, frazzled and confused. They were carrying many bottles and potions, and even worse; poisons. “Your majesty! We have recovered these from the gardens! Someone had them buried!” The King looked at the queen, who was now even paler. “Is this true my love? You tried to have my child killed?!”, the king barked. The queen was silent. Then she chuckled. Her chuckled quickly changed to a cackle. It sounded angry and wicked. The queen confessed. Everything they said was true! The king was enraged and called for the queen to be arrested, but she ran past them all in a hurry. The little men and the prince chased after the queen, and Snow White followed not long after.

On top of the castle the queen was chased. She cursed and threw all she could to stop them from capturing her until she was cornered. The men surrounded her, and Snow White arrived soon after. She looked at her step mother, hurt but no longer afraid. “We welcomed you to our home, and treated you as family. Even if it was a marriage of convenience, we loved you. I do not understand why you are the way you are, but I wish to show mercy. You are to be banished from our land and to never return. Your family will be informed of your actions.” The queen was enraged. “This isn’t over you vicious brat! I won’t be made a fool! I won’t be outshined by a small insignificant child! And I’ll die before YOU outshine ME!” Before anyone could act, she lunged at Snow White and tackled her down, but she over shot and the two fell over the side of the castle ledge. Snow White quickly grabbed onto the ledge and grabbed the queen’s hand. Snow White, though upset, didn’t wish to see anyone die. The queen looked up at the child, who she looked down upon now looking down on her, and sneered. She clawed and scratched at Snow White, trying one last time to end it all, but her thrashing only made her lose her grip. The Queen plummeted to the ground, her cries loud and then silent. Archie and the men quickly rescued Snow White and pulled her to safety. Snow White sighed in relief, the first time since the day she was first to be killed.

The king begged Snow White to forgive him for allowing such a woman into their lives, but Snow White comforted her old father. “Now is not the time to dwell on the past. Spring has arrived, and a new day is upon us. Let’s all celebrate a new era and new beginnings.”

The kingdom celebrated the return of their king and princess. The streets were filled with music and dancing. The little men were richly rewarded and honored for their selflessness and compassion. Snow White then told Archie with pure love in her heart, “I love you too, Archie”. The young couple shared a kiss as the celebration went on, for a new future awaited them all.

And they all live, happily ever after.

(I spent like 2 hours writing this what the heck, I hope it’s not bad 😭)

[lowkeyerror]

My Wife, My Everything

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: Requested, established relationship, Rio in the coven, fluff, wedding

Summary: It's been over 300 years it might be time to put a ring on it.

An: 🫣 hey... how yall doing? It's nearly 3 months since my last post, it's also 3am. The inspiration came and died and then i got scared to go the app 🫣 idk if I'm back, but hey

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

It just made sense. That’s what you told yourself when you decided to propose to Agatha. She hadn’t hinted at wanting to get married or pressured you into it, but it had been years. Hundreds of years, that you had been committed to each other. You’d been married over and over if common law had anything to say about it.

You were in the backyard of your house late on night. Simply going down memory lane with each other. Sharing stories and laughter easily. Agatha was looking out at the sky while you were looking at her. The ring box flat in your pocket.

“We should get married,” you had said casually.

“Is this you asking me?” Agatha had an amused tone in her voice.

“Give me second.”

It’s not graceful as you get out of your chair. Her eyes follow you as you get down on one knee. Your hand finds one of hers.

“Are you-?”

She watches carefully as you pull out the ring box from your pocket. It opens, and inside is one of the most beautiful gems Agatha has laid her eyes on. The central diamond sparkles something fierce while the band also gleams.

“I think it’s fair to say that I’ve already made the decision to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s nearly been 3 centuries that we’ve been together.  Which perhaps makes this very long overdue, but neither of us are too keen on good timing. I don’t want to ramble too much. I did have all these things I wanted to say and express, but I think in the simplest terms, it’s just that I’d love to marry you.”

Agatha had tears welling in her eyes, she wiped them away dramatically, “I mean you could ramble a little.”

You roll your eyes but begin speaking nonetheless, “We never really talked about marriage so it never really crossed my mind. Recently though, I’ve been wondering, why not? Why not add, my wife into the vocabulary of all the other things I call you? It’s a new age, it’s perfectly legal. I decided a long time that I wanted forever with you and I'd like to think you want forever with me. This ring is just me doubling down on something I already believe in, us.”

She takes your face in her hands, “You’re taking my last name.”

You surge forward, lips pressing against her’s. Her soft palms feel warm against your face. You melt like it’s the first time you kissed her.

You pull away first a giggle escapes your lips, “I figured that much.”

She pecks your lips once more, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Wedding planning wasn’t something you and Agatha were necessarily good at. However, your coven was more than capable of handling the special day. It wasn’t going to be anything extravagant, just a backyard affair with your closest friends.

Rio handled the flowers, Jen and Billy worked on the set up, Alice was preparing the music, and Lilia would be officiating.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you look at yourself in your wedding attire.

The classic white color with accents of purple had you smiling.

“About time any longer and I would’ve stolen her back from you,” Rio approaches you from behind.

“Very funny Vidal,” you say dryly.

She turns you to her straightening out your clothes a bit, and fixing a loose strand of your hair. She smiles at you brightly, “There, now you look a little more ready to marry the love of your life.”

“Thank you, Rio. For all your help,” you get sappy with her.

In classic fashion she rolls her eyes, “Don’t go all soft on me. I just want to see my girls happy. Now get out there and make it official after 300 years.”

You go out first, standing to the right of Lilia as your other friends looked on. You couldn't stop the smile on your face waiting for Agatha to walk down the aisle.

Alice begins playing the classic wedding song. Your posture straightens a bit. When you see Agatha in her dress for the first time it knocks the air out of your lungs.

You don’t fight the tears that spill from your eyes. How could you? She was stunning possibly even more than the day you met her.

When she’s directly in front of you, you reach for her hands and she takes yours.

Lilia properly starts the ceremony and when she gets to the vows you’re prepared, but Agatha wants to go first.

“I never thought that someone like me could be afforded a happy ending. The life I lived is far from innocent and pure. It had been an uphill battle for as long as I could remember. Then you came into my life and did something that I didn’t think was possible. You loved me. Despite all of my… flaws, despite my reputation, despite my stubbornness, you loved me. There’s not a second that goes by that I don’t feel your loved wrapped around me. Something like a warm hug shielding me from a snowstorm. It doesn’t seem like enough, but from you it is. I vow to be that for you until my last breath because for over 300 years you’ve been saving me from freezing me to death."

It takes everything in you to keep from sobbing during her voes, your speech forgotten in your brain. You look into her eyes when it’s your turn, speaking from your heart.

“When I proposed I said I didn’t want to ramble, because if I started, I’d never stop. There’s nothing that I don’t love about you Agatha. I love when you scowl at the kids at the mall, I love when you use magic for mundane things like turning the lights on, I love when you hum to yourself while you work, I love when you yell at me for not wearing my glasses. You say that I’ve been saving you, but love, you’ve been saving my ass since the day we met. You quite literally saved me from those hunters, you took me in when you didn’t have to. When everyone was saying it was against your character. Maybe I saved your from freezing, but you’ve saved me from burning myself into the ground. I don’t have anything new to promise you after over 300 years. All I have is the same thing you’ve had since the beginning; my everything.”

There’s not a dry eye in the audience as you two stand across from each other. Tear streaks running down your faces. Even Lilia has to wipe her eyes.

“If anyone has a reason that these two shouldn’t be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Rio slowly pretends to raise her hand before Jen smacks her in the back of the head. It earns a chuckle from the audience, everyone knowing it was a joke. It was needed after such intense vows.

 “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Neither of you hesitated. Though you had an audience there was no use in trying to hold back the passion. The vows had charged the moment. With rings on your fingers and tears on your face, you melted into each other.

Applause and boisterous cheers rang out when you parted. When you looked into her eyes it’s as if she was the only person there.

“I love you, my gorgeous, powerful, and brilliant wife,” you can’t help but smile while saying it.

Agatha lets out an endearing laugh, “I love you too. My wife, my everything.”

[highprettybabyy]

Seeing Red

Part 8 - Breaking Bread

jenna ortega x fem!reader apocalypse au

summary: Y/N recovers from her injuries

warnings: enemies to lovers, typical apocalypse stuff, violence, blood, zombies, gore, maybe angst... some fluff...

AN: i love domestic fluff

word count: 3k

—//—

(Jenna's POV)

Y/N hadn’t moved in hours.

Not since you stitched her up, hands shaking, blood caked in your fingernails. Not since her body had gone terrifyingly still. You’d cried into your knuckles until your ribs ached, until the nausea passed, until the only thing you had left was focus.

Now… all you had was waiting.

You sat on the edge of the coffee table with your elbows on your knees, rifle across your lap. Every few minutes, you stood. Paced to the window. Checked the barricade. Looked through the cracks in the boards. There was nothing out there. Nothing. You still checked.

Y/N had said this place was clear. She’d said she cleared it out herself. But how could it be? She was attacked just five minutes from here. Five minutes. You couldn’t stop replaying it - the way she collapsed, the sound she made, the blood. God, the blood.

Your chest felt like it might cave in.

You leaned over her again. Checked her pulse. Still there. Still steady. Her face was flushed but calm, lashes twitching slightly as she breathed. She didn’t look like she was in pain.

That helped. A little.

You sat back down. Ran a hand over your face. Then, without really thinking, you reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.

It was softer than you expected. Tacky with sweat.

She didn’t stir.

You let out a breath.

Okay. Okay. She was okay. You could breathe. You could-

You needed to move.

You stood up and started wandering. Quietly. Careful not to step on anything too loud. You didn’t know what you were looking for. Just needed to do something.

The house was a strange mix of fortress and memory. There were barricades, yes - but there were also photos on the walls. Drawings on the fridge. A little ceramic owl on the bookcase by the stairs.

It was her home.

And she’d kept it standing.

You found a stack of notes in the dining room. Maps, lists, inventory logs. Dozens of watches in a plastic container marked “SYNCHRONISED.” A line of entries detailed times, alarms, and distances. Another page showed rough sketches of what looked like a toy car circuit.

You stared.

No wonder the streets had been so quiet.

She’d used the watches. Set the alarms. Mounted them to something that could move. Lured the zombies away on purpose.

You felt your chest rise, then fall.

She hadn’t just been surviving. She’d been planning.

Somehow it felt safer.

Years of disagreeing on stupid topics and petty arguments should've made it feel like the opposite- but it didn't.

You moved through to the kitchen. Checked the cupboards. A decent stash of canned goods, some dried fruit, a university student appropriate amount of instant noodles. You peeked into the fridge - and actually smiled when you found a covered pan of what looked like stir fry. Cold. Slightly wilted. But edible.

You hesitated.

Then you ate it. Quietly. Slowly. Every bite tasting like something sacred. You were sure she wouldn’t mind. Probably.

Outside, the sun was dipping lower. You headed into the backyard through the kitchen door and stared at the rain collector. It was rudimentary - a couple of tarps strung over poles, funnelling into a barrel - but it worked. There was plenty enough water inside to wash with.

You found a pot and took it outside to fill. Found a clean rag. Set the pot on the stove, pressed the button to turn it on. It turned on.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from cheering.

You boiled the water to sterilise it, then let it cool until it was barely warm. Dipped the cloth in, wrung it out carefully, and returned to the couch.

You cleaned her wounds one by one. Silent. Focused. Trying not to breathe too loudly.

When her face twitched in her sleep, you gentled your hand immediately. Soothing in strokes. Whispering nothings like she could hear you- except, you'd probably not say anything if she was awake.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. Just a little longer.”

The cuts across her shoulder. The gash near her ribs. The bruises blooming over her thigh. You did what you could. Bandaged. Re-bandaged. Checked for infection. No heat. No smell. Not yet.

You wiped her face last.

Her lips were dry. Skin pale.

But she looked… peaceful.

God, she was beautiful.

You shook that thought away. You’d already let too many things slip.

You dragged two blankets and a stack of pillows off the nearby armchair and set up on the floor beside her. Laid your Glock within reach. Turned your body toward hers.

And for the first time in a long, long while-

You slept.

Not with one eye open. Not with your hand on a trigger. Just… slept.

-

(Y/N's POV)

You woke to pain.

Sharp, raw, bone-deep pain that throbbed behind your ribs and across your temple. You groaned before your eyes even opened, the sound dry and broken in your throat.

Everything hurt. Your head, your gut, your chest. You could barely move. Something was wrapped tight around your midsection. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic. And something else - something warm.

Blankets.

You blinked your eyes open and tried to sit up.

Bad idea.

You gasped through gritted teeth, muscles spasming in your stomach. Stars danced across your vision. You slumped back with a strangled whimper, forehead damp with sweat.

Then-

“Don’t move.”

A voice. Right above you. Steady. Firm. Familiar.

You turned your head slightly and saw her.

Jenna.

She was kneeling beside you on the floor, hair mussed, shirt wrinkled. Her eyes were wide - too wide - and her jaw was clenched so tightly it made your own teeth ache.

She looked like she hadn’t breathed in hours.

“Wha…” You licked your lips. Your voice was barely there.

She reached out - slowly - and placed two fingers against your wrist.

Checking your pulse.

Her eyes searched yours like she was looking for something behind them. Then her lips parted, and she asked:

“What was the name of that professor we had for public speaking?”

You blinked.

“What…?”

“Just answer the question.” Her voice cracked slightly, like she was holding something back.

You frowned. Memory was fuzzy, but not that fuzzy. “Uh… Dr. Vesnik. The one who looked like a wax candle and spat when he talked.”

A pause.

Jenna exhaled hard and sat back on her heels.

“Thank fuck,” she whispered.

You stared at her.

Then it hit you.

The question. The way she was watching you. The fear in her posture.

“Oh my God,” you rasped. “You thought I was-”

“You passed out,” she snapped, voice wobbling. “You stopped breathing for a second. You were bleeding everywhere. You-” She broke off. Rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. “I didn’t know if you were gonna wake up.”

Something twisted in your chest. Not pain. Not exactly.

“Jenna-”

“No, don’t,” she said quickly. “Don’t do the thing where you pretend it doesn’t matter. It does.”

You swallowed.

The silence between you buzzed like static.

You shifted slightly, trying not to cry out as the pain lanced through your abdomen again.

She noticed. Of course she did.

“Here,” she murmured, moving closer. “Let me help.”

She adjusted the blanket around you, slipping a pillow under your shoulder. Her touch was careful, featherlight. Like she thought you’d shatter if she was too rough.

“I cleaned your wounds,” she said quietly. “Boiled water from the collector. Changed the bandages.”

You looked at her, blinking slow.

“You stayed.”

She shrugged, but the motion was stiff. “You would’ve died otherwise.”

“No.” You shook your head. “You stayed.”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

You stared at her for a long time.

“You didn’t have to.”

Her eyes darted away.

“Maybe I wanted to.”

The words hung in the air like smoke.

You weren’t sure what to say. Neither was she.

So instead, you reached for her hand - slow, tentative - and rested your fingers over hers.

She didn’t pull away this time.

-

The days passed in pieces.

Pain first. Then sleep. Then the hazy in-between, where time was soup and your body was glass. It was a blur of soft footsteps, rustling blankets, quiet humming, and the faint click of your front door locking and unlocking as Jenna came and went.

She never stayed gone long.

Sometimes you woke to her checking your bandages or replacing the damp cloth against your forehead. Other times you heard her muttering to herself while sweeping broken glass from the hallway, or rearranging the canned goods in the pantry like she needed them to be just right.

She was always doing something. Restless. Efficient. Calm on the outside.

You weren’t fooled.

On the third day, you finally managed to sit up on your own.

The movement made your side scream, and your ankle was still swollen and bruised. But you didn’t black out. That counted as a win. You hobbled slowly from the couch to the window, leaning your weight on the walls, and pulled back the curtain to peek outside.

Empty streets. Motionless trees. No snarls. No groans. Still safe.

She came back five minutes later, arms full of laundry from the upstairs bedrooms.

“You’re up,” she said, somewhere between surprise and scolding.

You gave her a tired smile. “Only took me three days.”

She didn’t smile back. Not yet. But she did set the laundry down and walk to your side.

“You should’ve called me,” she murmured, checking your stitches. “What if you ripped something?”

You shrugged, biting back a wince. “Then you’d get to sew me back up again. Your favourite.”

That earned you a very small, very reluctant eye roll.

You counted that as another win.

-

By the fourth day, you were able to walk the full length of the hallway and back. Jenna hovered like a mother hen. You made fun of her for it. She threatened to tie you to the couch.

Somehow, it worked.

When the pain dulled enough for longer conversation, you sat at the dining table with a heating pad against your ribs and let her talk you through gun handling. She broke down every part of her rifle, named each piece like she’d known them all her life. You’d held weapons before. You weren’t a stranger to fighting. But watching her talk about the tools that kept her alive - the reverence, the calm precision - it felt like seeing something sacred.

Later, you taught her how you’d lured away the zombies. Explained the watches, the race car, the alarm syncing. She asked questions. Smart ones. Took notes in your scavenged journal. She got it right away.

It was strange. How easily you fit. Like puzzle pieces that had spent years jammed into the wrong box.

She didn’t joke as much as she used to. But when she did - when she let it slip - it was quiet and sincere. And when she smiled, it reached her eyes now.

You caught yourself watching her too long more than once.

-

It was near sunset when it happened.

You were trying to fix the rain tarp outside - badly, slowly, but trying - and Jenna was sitting on the porch steps, fiddling with a knot of rope and listening to your instructions.

“Maybe I am a burden,” you said suddenly, wincing as you shifted your leg. “You haven’t said it, but I know what it looks like.”

Jenna looked up at you, eyes sharp. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not trying to guilt trip you. I just…” You shook your head. “You didn’t sign up for this. For me.”

“No,” she said slowly, “I didn’t.”

Your heart sank a little before she continued.

“But I’m here anyway. You didn’t sign up for me either.”

You met her gaze. It was steady. Grounding.

“I don’t think you’re a burden,” she said, voice softer now. “And even if I did - I think I’d still be here.”

You didn’t know what to say.

She took a breath. Looked down at the rope again.

“I never hated you, you know.”

You blinked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I know. I wanted you to think that.” She gave a half-smile, but it didn’t last. “You were the only person who could actually keep up with me. In class. In debates. Hell, even at parties. Everyone else just… fell in line. Not you.”

“I thought you were just trying to crush me,” you murmured.

“I was. But not the way you think.”

You stared at her.

She glanced up again, and this time her voice dropped.

“When I found you in that mall... I thought it was a dream. I thought I was losing it. I’d been alone so long. After what happened with my family… I didn’t think I’d ever feel okay again. But then you were there. Bloody. Snarky. Breathing.”

She paused. Her voice caught a little.

“I don’t know if I could’ve kept going if I hadn’t found you.”

You felt something deep and fragile in your chest begin to ache.

“Jenna…”

She stood quickly, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Anyway. That’s all I’m saying. Come inside before you pass out again.”

But her ears were pink.

And when you brushed past her on your way back in - just barely - her hand steadied your arm.

She didn’t let go right away.

-

By day five, the pain had faded to a dull hum, still loud enough to slow you, but no longer the tyrant it had been. You could move around the kitchen now, cautiously, hands bracing countertops, hips bumping drawers as you navigated the space like someone relearning their own home. You hadn’t realised how much you missed just… moving. Doing.

Jenna had claimed a corner of the kitchen table as her “tactical HQ.” A map of the area sat there now, covered in scribbles and markings that made sense to no one but her. Beside it: an old rag she used to polish her weapons, your lighter, and a pack of gum she insisted tasted like cardboard but kept chewing anyway.

It was weirdly domestic. The way she moved through your space without breaking it. The way you’d started finishing each other’s thoughts without trying.

That morning, you caught her staring out the living room window, arms crossed, lips slightly parted. You didn’t speak. You just passed her a cup of coffee - not great, but warm - and she took it without looking, murmuring a quiet “Thanks.”

You didn’t ask what she was thinking.

She didn’t offer.

But she sat closer after that.

-

By the afternoon, you were itching for something to do. So, bread.

Jenna, for all her stoicism, was surprisingly eager when you offered to teach her.

“You just want me to get flour in my hair,” she muttered, tying your old apron around her waist.

“I want you to do something stupid with your hands for once,” you said. “Let go of being hyper-competent.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Flirting’s gotten weird since the world ended.”

You smirked. “You wish.”

The dough was sticky. Jenna kneaded like she was trying to kill it. Flour exploded across the counter.

“God, it’s like a crime scene,” you wheezed, laughing despite yourself - which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

Pain shot through your ribs. You doubled over slightly, clutching your side, still laughing.

Jenna panicked. “Shit, shit-are you okay?”

You nodded, wheezing. “No- yes- I think- I think I’m dying of laughter.”

She groaned, but you caught the ghost of a smile before she turned away to find a cloth to wipe her hands. The bread ended up dense and dry.

You cut it anyway, slathered it in whatever preserved butter you had, and ate it like royalty.

It was perfect.

-

That night, while Jenna cleaned up, you made a plan.

You weren’t the kind of person who owed people things. Not like this. But she’d been there for you - really there - when you’d barely had the strength to breathe. And you’d promised her a warm meal, didn’t you?

You waited until she disappeared upstairs to check the traps on the window screens. Then you moved fast.

You pulled a thick cut of ribeye from the bottom drawer of the freezer earlier - one you’d hidden behind bags of frozen berries and forgotten veggie mix. You’d tucked it there days ago, when you first started planning this.

Now, it had thawed perfectly in the makeshift basin near the radiator.

You seasoned it simply - salt, pepper, a little oil - and pan-seared it until it hissed golden on both sides and tender . Avocado came next, mashed with salt and cracked red pepper, spread over toasted slices of bread.

Hashbrowns crisped in another pan. Coffee brewed low and slow in the French press. You moved on muscle memory alone, hands steady, heart oddly light. Ankle - aching.

By the time she came downstairs, everything was plated. Two mismatched forks. Two mugs of fresh coffee. The table cleared of maps and weapons. Just food. Warm, real, and waiting.

You heard her feet on the stairs before her voice floated in-

“Okay, so I’ve been smelling something for the past twenty minutes and I didn’t know if I was hallucinating or if you’d actually poisoned me in my sleep-"

She rounded the corner and froze.

You turned, already grinning.

She gasped. “No fucking way. Y/N.”

You said nothing. Just gestured to the table.

She covered her mouth with one hand. “This is- holy shit.”

You shrugged. “Told you I’d cook. You didn’t believe me?”

Jenna walked forward slowly, like you’d just built her a shrine.

“You made steak,” she whispered.

“You’ve earned steak.”

She sat down across from you like the meal might vanish if she blinked. Her eyes went wide as she picked up a fork, practically bouncing in place.

“This is insane. You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you said simply.

She looked at you. Really looked.

Then smiled. Wide. Unfiltered. Almost childlike.

It hit you like a truck.

You’d never seen her like this.

You hoped you’d get to see it again.

--//--

AN: see? it's fine! Y/N survived today :D

...

today.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

plane to paris

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k (including lyrics)

Warnings: angst, plane crash

Summary: Something tells you not to get on the plane, but all you want to do is go home and be with your boyfriend. The need to be in his arms is enough to ignore the glaring feeling in your chest. One that tells you not to get on the plane.

Square Filled: flooding for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: this is based on the song plane to paris by Nessa Barrett

x

Shouldn't think it or say it out loud What would happen if this plane to Paris went down? You'd be the first call I made to the ground What would happen if they told us today? Armageddon was minutes away I'd cry for you, would you do the same?

All you want to do is go home and sleep for the next few days. You must have caught a bug in Paris because you’re not feeling too well. Due to that, you’ve already extended your trip a few days than you planned to. Your mom and sister have been living in Paris for nearly a decade, and you visited them for two weeks.

You’re not closer to feeling better. Your mom wanted you to stay with them until you got better, but you miss your sweet boyfriend. He makes you feel better just by being in the same room as you, so you’re a bit eager to get home.

You’re sitting at your scheduled gate, waiting for the doors to open. You’re in first class, so you’ll be one of the first ones called. You down a small shot of cough syrup and chase it down with water. The gate agent steps up to the desk and starts to call forth the disabled, families with very small children, and military people.

“We’re now boarding first class,” she announces.

You stuff the cough syrup into your bag and get up. You take one step but stop because there is a heavy weight on your chest. A weight that has a clear message. Don’t get on the plane. You take another step closer to the doors, but your legs feel like cement pillars. Don’t get on the plane. You hand the gate agent your ticket, and she scans it with a smile.

“Have a nice flight,” she says.

Don’t get on the plane. You smile tightly and push yourself to walk across the bridge to the plane. You’re just being paranoid. It’s your sickness. Everything is fine. You put your bag in the overhead bin before taking your seat. Get off the plane. People pass by you to get to their seats, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. You just need sleep. You’ll be fine.

“Can I get you anything to drink before we take off?”

The aisles in first class are a bit bigger than the rest of the plane, so the flight attendant is able to stand next to your row while others pass by her.

Get off the plane. “Water is fine. Thank you.”

She leaves to take down more orders while you sit there in wonder. Get off the plane. Why? Why? What’s going to happen? Before you know it, everyone has boarded the full flight, and you try to relax in your seat. The flight attendant closes the door to the plane, sealing off any chance you have to get off the plane.

You should have gotten off the plane. You take out your phone and send a quick text to Spencer. Taking off now. Should be home soon. I’ll see you soon, my love. You put your phone on airplane mode as soon as the message goes through and lean back in your seat.

Everything is going to be fine. You’re just being paranoid. The plane is ready for takeoff, and everything is going as scheduled. Still, the unbearable weight on your chest continues to tell you that you should have gotten off the plane when you had a chance.

Now I know that nothing's promised Ridin' on a doomsday comet And all I can think of is you

Something doesn’t feel right. You don’t know what it is, but your internal moral compass is going off. 

The person next to you is calmly watching one of the movies on the screen in front of him. The person next to him at the window is reading a book. The girl across the aisle is busy playing a game on her phone. The other two next to her are deep in conversation. You look behind you to see everyone wrapped up in their own little world.

Everything looks fine, but something is wrong. You turn back around and down the rest of your water. Maybe it’s the sickness. You feel a bit light-headed. The cough syrup must have been the drowsy kind. It’s okay. Spencer is going to pick you up at the airport when you land, so you don’t have to worry about driving.

You’re about to try and catch some sleep when you notice someone passing you by. Aman walks down the aisle to where the cock pit, the bathrooms, and the flight attendant’s areas are. Something about that man has the hair on the back of your neck standing up. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom.

He mumbles something to the flight attendant, who immediately opens the door to the cockpit. Weird. This man didn’t look like the pilot. He steps inside and takes something out from his pocket. Right before the door closes, you see the glint of a gun in his hand. He aims it at the pilot's head and orders him to do something. The door closes, so you’re not sure what happens next.

Your first thought is of Spencer and what he might have done to talk the gunman down. You’re not a profiler. You’re not even in law enforcement. You’re a high school teacher. What makes you qualified to talk a gunman down? You’re thirty-thousand feet in the air. No one knows what’s happening up here.

Man, you really shouldn’t have gotten on the plane.

If you were with me in the exit row Wouldn't be quite so scared to go While the pilot prays and the engine blows Down we go

By now, the entire plane knows it’s being hijacked. Along with the gunman, there are three others that have bought seats. They roam the aisles to make sure everyone is behaving. Some children cry while their parents try to keep them calm. Mothers are protecting their children. Men are protecting their women. Even the ones who are traveling alone have found comfort in their neighbor.

You? Well, all you can think about is Spencer. What was the last thing you said to him in person? You can’t remember. Maybe if he were here with you, you wouldn’t be so scared. Maybe if he were here with you, you might make it out of this alive.

One of the gunmen walks past you, and you immediately take out your phone. You turn it off airplane mode so you can get a message to Spencer. Who knows if it will even go through? You’re probably over the oceanwhich doesn’t have cell towers. Still, you send the message with shaking hands.

Plane is being hijacked. Four gunmen. I’m scared. Please know that I love you and always will. It’s not fair to tell Spencer how scared you are because he is going to obsess over your last words. It’ll haunt him. He will know you’re scared. Still, you typed it because it’s the truth. The text doesn’t go through, but you know it’ll reach him eventually.

You slip your phone back into your pocket when the gunman walks by you. Suddenly, the plane is jerked to the side so hard that the overhead bins open. You look out one of the windows and see fire. One of the engines has blown.

Panic ensues. The plane is quite literally falling out of the sky, and there is nothing no one can do about it. Oxygen masks fall from the ceilings, and the gunmen scour the plane for parachutes they most likely stashed there themselves.

You’re not sure if you believe in a God, but you do what any other person does in a moment of true crisis: you pray. Pray that Spencer will be able to move on and live his life without you in it.

Mon amour, je suis tellement désolée Merci de me faire sentir aimée Je sais que j'ai besoin de toi Je t'aime pour toujours Je promets que ce n'est pas un au revoir Ladies and gentlemen This is your captain speaking You may want to make some phone calls at this time And get your affairs in order

Spencer has been feeling anxious all day today. It’s the day you come home after being gone for over two weeks. Not even that, but he might not be able to pick you up from the airport after all. Reports of a hijacked plane come through the channels, and Hotch needs everyone on this immediately.

Apparently, four men hijacked a commercial flight from Paris to New York. Why? He’s not sure. Is it about power? Do they want to maximize fear? Is there someone on the plane who is targeted? Is this just one attack, or are there more coming?

“Any news?”

“None. They haven’t even called in to Air Traffic Control for any kind of ransom or demands,” Penelope says.

Hotch turns on the news, which is covering the attack live. The plane is in the middle of the ocean, so there isn’t any live footage of it going down. However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t updates.

“I’ve just got word that Flight 2443 from Paris, France to New York, New York has suffered a blown engine. The plane is coming down hard with no chance of stopping. Police officials are working with the Coast  Guard to send out as many ships as they can before the plane can hit the water.”

Wait. Spencer’s eyes bug out of his head when he hears the flight number.

“Wait, Flight 2443?”

“Yeah. It left Paris this morning at eight,” Penelope says.

Spencer takes out his phone and checks on the messages you’ve been sending him. One of which is your flight information. There it is. Flight 2443, leaving Paris at eight in the morning.

“That’s the flight Y/N’s supposed to be on. She said she was sick. I hope she didn’t get on.”

He dials you first, but you don’t answer. He doesn’t wait a single second and calls your mother instead.

“Spencer, how nice to hear from you,” she answers.

“Is Y/N with you?”

“No, I dropped her off at the airport this morning. What’s going on?”

“I think…”

Spencer can’t say it. He fears if he does, it’ll be true. His phone pings, and he sees it’s a message from you. His entire chest caves with relief; however, it’s short-lived. Plane is being hijacked. Four gunmen. I’m scared. Please know that I love you and always will. You’re on the plane.

“Y/N’s on the plane.”

You're all I need At the end of everything You're all I see With the seconds left to live It's true that I loved you to death As I call your name with my last breath While the sky caves in You're all I need At the end of everything

The impact when the plane hit the ocean was jarring. The entire plane was broken into two, so the back of the plane is now missing along with its occupants. When the pressure was gone from the doors, all four gunmen had fled with parachutes on their backs, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves.

Screams ring in your ears as people fight to save themselves or their loved ones. Salt water fills whatever is left of the plane quickly. If you don’t get out of here, you’re going to drown. You sent your message to Spencer. He knows how much you love him. Half of what crashes into the ocean is never found. Will you be found? Will anyone?

You tug at your seatbelt, but it’s stuck. The water has either clogged the mechanics or frozen them. The girl who was next to you playing on her phone is now dead. Her neck was snapped upon impact. Who will get justice for these people?

You look to your left and are shocked when you see Spencer sitting there. The water is now up to your chin. You’re gonna die, but at least you have him sitting next to you. Even if it is all in your head. You take your final breath as you sink further into the ocean. It doesn’t take long for black spots to cover your vision.

Spencer looks as handsome as ever, unaffected by the water. You reach out and grab his hand just as your entire world goes dark.

x

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[haveihitanerve]

@ineveryfandom last one! (i think)

Bruce couldn't breathe. He wasn't complaining, but it was starting to ache in his chest a little.

He was sprawled across the couch, wearing nothing more than his boxers, and all six of his children were sprawled across his body, or at least touching him, in some way shape or form.

Dick was collapsed on top of his chest on one side, Jason on the other, while Damian had curled up right in the middle. Stephanie had chosen to go for his legs, koala tentacled around it like an affectionate leech, and Tim had claimed his right arm, curled around it like he'd never let go. Bruce had lost feeling in it a while ago anyway.

Dick had called up Babs and given her the rundown, and she had arrived only a few minutes before, and was contently working on a case, her wheelchair parked next to the couch, Bruce's left hand on her thigh to provide contact.

It was where Cass found them, slinking down the stairs to the kitchen, and stopped the moment she saw them all. Bruce offered her a smile, not daring to remove either of his hands to wave, and in a hushed whisper revealed to her what was going on.

Cass stared at him for a moment longer, let her fingers dance across Damian's cheek (the boy had passed out not long after his brothers had) before settling down next to Stephanie, grabbing his other leg.

Bruce sighed in contentment, and Dick shifted in his sleep, lightening the load on Bruce's chest, making it easier to breathe.

"Master Bruce-" Alfred froze on the threshold of the door, and before Bruce could say anything, the butler had out his phone and snapped a picture.

Bruce chuckled, opening his mouth to tell him the reason behind his children's sudden affection attack, suddenly a little nervous, when the man lifted a hand to stop him.

"Miss Gordon has already informed me of your predicament, my dear boy. I only wished to see if you needed refreshments, then I shall depart again."

Bruce felt something simultaneously hot and cold wash over him. "oh." He managed, tongue heavy. "No- no I'm ok. Thanks Alfred." He whispered, voice tapering off.

Alfred nodded swiftly, then hesitated a moment in the doorway, uncertain. Barbara squeezed Bruce's hand, lifting it discreetly off her lap. Bruce swallowed.

"Actually- Alfie?" He hadn't used the childhood nickname in years, and if he didn't know better, Bruce would've said his employees breath caught.

"I- I uh, was wondering." Bruce shifted a little, and Damian let out the cutest little sigh, burrowing closer. Bruce clung to the little child on his chest, the children across him, using their affection, their love, as a shield to the soon to come rejection.

He lifted his hand, smiling awkwardly. "Could I- do you maybe-?"

Bruce didn't know why he'd been worried. His dad read his mind, the way he always did, the way he always had, and crossed the room in a few quick strides, kneeling down next to the couch.

"My dear boy," He whispered, stroking a hand across Bruce's forehead, and Bruce let his eyes flutter closed for a moment, treasuring the rare moment of affection. "It would by my honor." Alfred whispered.

Bruce swallowed, and Alfred clasped his hand. Bruce wasn't sure he was breathing, and he was positive Barbara was holding her breath just to be annoying.

Alfred smiled, eyes suspiciously wet. "Just as I suspected." He murmured, squeezing Bruce's hand. "My perfect boy."

Zatanna was wrong. This wasn't a curse. This was a blessing. And Bruce intended to treasure it forever.

(anon that is writing the split emotions!bruce fic here) YOU ARE GIVING ME TOO MANY BRAIN WORMS

THEY SCREAM WITH IDEAS

SO I SHALL PLUCK ONE OUT AND GIVE TO U

Bruce gets Magic-ed to make others be able to feel his emotions if they make skin to skin contact

He does a bunch of tests to see if he's safe to be around since doesn't know the exact spell he got hit by and eventually Z gives him the green light to head back home

He gets out of his suit and the rest depends on the first batkid that he runs into

Just really want them to be able to feel the love, pride, worry, and fondness he's terrible at expressing (and them [un]subtlety trying to feel his emotions towards them again)

URGH NOOO!!!

Because this could go so many ways... fuck

Zatanna waved the stick around his face one last time, almost colliding with his nose, and Bruce did his best not to flinch. "Its called a wand." She growled under her breath, as though hearing his thoughts, but Bruce wasn't much interested in what the damned thing was called.

He knew she was being so careless on purpose, maybe even hoping she'd accidentally give him a good whack, but Bruce wasn't taking any chances bringing home some dangerous magical curse, so she would do her scans as many times until he was satisfied.

"There." She huffed, sacking back into her chair, and offered him a bland smile. "Completely harmless. I told you Bruce. The only thing this weird ass "curse" can do is warmth." Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow, as he had done when she'd first told him.

"Warmth?" He echoed hollowly, doubtful still. Zatanna rolled her eyes, smacking a hand to his forearm. Immediately, Bruce felt his blood buzz under his skin, forearms tightening. Zatanna let out a little sigh, smiling at him faintly, but it was more sincere than before.

"Yep!" She popped the p and stood, suddenly more energized. "Just passes over some warmth." Her smile didn't seem all too truthfully, but Bruce doubted her sudden good mood would last if he demanded another check.

"Alright." He sighed, finally standing, and Zatanna tapped him fondly on his chest.

"Just because you have seen the bad consequences of magic does not mean it can't be good." She murmured. "And this is a good one!" She grinned, smile almost too wide. Too mischievous. Bruce's eyes narrowed. He'd seen the expression one too many times on his children's faces to not be wary. "It's been cold in Gotham recently, maybe this will be a blessing for your home." Zatanna distracted innocently, opening the door to impolitely tell him to leave.

"Hn." Bruce hummed back, slipping his cowl back over his head, his gloves following. "Thank you Z." Her smile softened as she leaned against the door, though her eyes still sparkled in the dim glow of the streetlights.

"Anytime B. It should wear off in a few days. Until then, enjoy it." And the door was closed in his face. Bruce huffed in amusement, tugging out his grapple gun and swinging towards the Manor.

"Oracle?" He clicked his back teeth, coms activating. "Am I all clear to head home?" Barbara hummed back confirmation, the familiar and soothing sound of her typing quickly filling his ears.

"Yeah- hey can you swing by quickly? There's a package for Dick and I won't see him until later, I'd rather he get it now." Bruce rolled his eyes but obediently switched routes, running along the familiar roofs that led to the Clock Tower.

"I'm not an errand boy for y'alls love letters you know." He grumbled, even as he undid the hatch and slipped inside the slightly warmer confines of their communication tower.

Barbara grinned at him from the computer, spinning in her wheelchair to roll over to the couch and grab a small rectangular package. "Long day today or why am I being greeted by the Gotham "y'all"?"

Bruce rolled his eyes again, accepting the small parcel and wedging it under his arm. "Hilarious." He grumbled, leaning forward to capture Babs in a quick hug.

She started at the sudden embrace, but quickly relaxed, arms circling around his waist in a known fashion. "Any particular reason?" Her voice was muffled by his suit, but Bruce heard her anyway.

He shrugged, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before pulling away. Babs blinked, dazed, her hands fluttering near her head for a second, and she regarded him oddly.

"Just missing my kids." He murmured, one leg already out the window again. Barbara waggled her finger in his direction, already over her momentary lack of composure that Bruce wasn't quite sure where it originated from.

"Haven't adopted me yet!" She cried, faux dramatics and outrage. Bruce just lifted the package in response.

"If he doesn't hurry I will." It was an empty threat, seeing as both Barbara was already a legal adult and had a father of her own, but the emotion behind it was all that mattered. Barbara laughed, waving him away.

"Good night B." He smiled, slipping back into the night. His pace to the Manor increased, as Zatanna was right, it had grown exponentially chilly recently, and it was only a few minutes before he'd reached the cave and slipped inside.

"B-man!" Bruce almost jumped, almost, but the subtle flinch was enough to send Stephanie to the floor, cackling with laughter. "OH that's my best moment yet!" She cheered from the floor, grinning up at him as he loomed over her, glowering.

"Good evening." She greeted, sticking her hand up as though to shake, or ask to stand. Bruce rolled his eyes and ignored both, side stepping the child on the floor to place the package for Dick on the bat-table.

Steph sighed dramatically from where she lay on the ground, and shuffled her feet so that she was at a better angle to look at him. "Rough day today huh Boss?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he slipped off his cowl, depositing it onto the table as well. "Why are you here Stephanie?" Steph pouted, even going so far as to cross her arms.

"Sick of me already are we?" There was distinct teasing in her tone, but enough vulnerability that Bruce didn't immediately agree. Instead he rolled his eyes again, pretending he hadn't heard the moment of weakness.

"Stephanie I'm afraid you've grown on me. Like a tumor." He deadpanned instead, spinning in his chair once before smacking his feet to the ground to halt it, and leveled a hard look at her. "In order for me to be sick of you, I'd have to remove a piece of myself."

Steph laughed, and if her voice was a little scratchy he ignored that too. She lunged to her feet, using the trick Dick had taught all Robins at some point, and Bruce turned back to the computer as she draped herself across the back of his chair.

She and Dick scared him, sometimes, with their utter lack of bones. They were both limber to an incredible degree, and having lived under Selina's guidance for over a year, Steph was very much catlike in her movements, currently arching her back as she lolled over his chair. Bruce didn't even want to know how she managed to stay balanced.

"Bring me anything fun from patrol?" she asked after a few seconds of silence as Bruce filled out the usual after-patrol forms. He glanced at her, unimpressed. "From patrol?" He repeated, playing dumb.

Steph rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Boss. Don't play dumb. Did anyone have anything fun?" Bruce rolled his eyes(if he did it any more he feared they'd fall out of his head), returning his attention to his spreadsheet.

"You know my stance on taking things from the people of Gotham." Steph scoffed, rolling off the chair and instead taking a seat on the table, lounging across it.

"They're criminals." She pointed out, like they hadn't had variations of this conversation almost once a week since he'd met her.

Bruce sent her an unimpressed look. "By most people's standards, so are we." he pointed out, his usual argument. Steph rolled her eyes, dropping down onto the table, effectively cutting off his access to typing.

"Can we just skip the fight today and go to what you got me?" She asked hopefully, smiling up at him. Bruce frowned at her, tugging his hands back from where she'd flopping on top of them. Her smile widened.

Bruce sighed, tugging off his gloves, and reached into one of his pockets. Steph squealed, sitting up, hands out expectantly.

"This doesn't mean I took it from anyone." He warned. Steph chuckled. "Ok old man- ya bought it. Fair and square. I got it. But you still got something for me!" He had no counter for that, so he reluctantly handed over the small gadget he'd purchased a few days ago when he'd been window shopping with Harley.

Steph stared at the small wad of black fabric, her face lighting up as she unveiled its contents. "Lock picks?" She gasped, looking at him with pure delight. Bruce nodded the affirmative.

"State of the art. I know your old ones are-" Before he could explain his observation and why he'd bought the little treasure for her(a remnant of their Batman and Robin days when she'd dropped little trinkets into the pockets that she'd stolen from criminals they'd apprehended and he started returning the gesture with his own gifts) her arms were around his neck in a hug.

Bruce startled in surprise, and his blood buzzed as her arms came into direct contact with his skin, but hugged her back. Before he had fully wrapped his arms around her though, Steph flinched back, eyes wide.

"What was that." She whispered, breathless, hand clasped tightly around his gift. Bruce frowned, before he realized what she was asking.

"Apologies for not informing you." Bruce apologized. "It's why I was home so late, Zatanna was checking it was nonlethal. I was hit with a spell that makes me exude warmth when I come into direct contact with someone." He explained. Stephanie's eyes narrowed at him.

"Is that what you'd call it?" She muttered, eyes dancing around nervously. Bruce frowned, hand reaching to touch his neck where she'd touched.

"Is.. everything alright? That's what Zatanna said it did.." he repeated doubtfully.

Steph let out a humorless laugh. "Of course she did. Fu-" Bruce sent her a warning look. "Frickin witch." Steph hastened. He nodded, a small smile curling his lips.

"Well, what did you feel?" Bruce asked, curious now. Steph hesitated, hands bunching her shirt.

"i- uh. I felt. Warm." She whispered. "Yeah... I guess. I guess I did feel warm." A small smile tugged her lips. "Zatanna was right. It does provide warmth to whoever touches you Bruce. You provide warmth."

Bruce frowned at the strange phrasing, and the sudden agreement with Zatanna when she'd previously been so vehemently against it, but as Stephanie hesitantly curled up again in his arms, muttering a thank you for her new lock picks, Bruce decided the issues wasn't worth pushing. Not so long as it wasn't bringing her any harm.

-ugh so that did not go in a way i'd planned actually- im not upset about it, it's fine and I actually did want Stephanie and Babs to be the focus of this one because my girls get way too little time with their not-dad for my liking, but it did spiral a little in the middle there and I took a second to get it back on track- anyway thanks/no thanks for infecting me with that little brain bug, but i enjoyed writing it at least!

[piroulinewafers]

Omg omg omg….. could you write something about caleb x pregnant mc (if that’s ok!!)

Your abo fic has me rotating how completely and totally normal and not at all insane caleb would be about her /j

Ps I LOVE how you write caleb!!! I feel like your voice for him is so perfect and that you nailed how he is holds his tenderness and protectiveness for mc and the conflict of it all when they contradict 🫶🫶🫶

𝐚/𝐧: waaa, thank you so much 🥺 i really appreciate ur kind words !! i saw this and i was admittedly smitten, i swear i was just talking to some people on twt about this the other day. i feel caleb would be willing to do anything for the reader, undoubtedly, but the idea of bringing a child into this world, knowing the state of their lives and career paths... it would deeply concern him. and his capacity to love the child regardless of that too, i feel he wonders if he could possibly love anyone as much as he loves the reader considering his love for them is so... overwhelming to say the least and encompasses his whole being. i think he'd be a good dad though 🥺

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: caleb x fem! pregnant! reader 𝐜𝐰: none. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

the kitchen was warm with the smell of coffee and toast, soft light spilling in through the curtains as morning settled in around them. the walls glowed honey-warm, the wood floor cool under bare feet.

caleb stood in front of the stove, disheveled and sleepy but determined, spatula in one hand and a bowl of whisked eggs in the other. 

his apron— embarrassingly pink and proud— read “kiss the chef” in bold, cursive lets, a gag gift she had given him that he now wore religiously whenever he cooked.it was tied hastily over his faded plaid pajama pants and white t-shirt, still warm from sleep.

she shuffled in behind him with a yawn, her hair mussed from sleep and eyes still just barely open as she stretched. she was wearing one of his old t-shirts— threadbare, a little too big, but clinging gently to the swell of her belly.

her pajama pants dragged, just a little too long, and her slippers made soft scuffs against the floor as she approached him.

“look who’s finally awake, sleepy-head,” caleb hummed out with a sleepy grin, glancing over at her. his eyes trailed over her form, sighing softly. 

“go sit. i got it.” he said in response to her sleepy grumble of a good morning, returning his attention back to the stove as he flipped a slide of toast in the pan with the kind of careful precision he usually reserved for dangerous missions. 

she squinted at him, and he could practically hear the pouty huff that spilled past her lips. 

“you’re fussing again. i’m not helpless, know,” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. she leaned against the counter, watching him with tired eyes and a very evident pout. 

“you’re not supposed to be on your feet too long,” caleb said without looking at her, his voice laced with the kind of gruff concern that made her chest feel warm and achy all at once. “and you haven’t eaten anythin’. i’m makin’ you eggs. full of protein. you need protein.”

she wrinkled her nose, arms folding loosely over her belly. “i just wanted coffee…

“no,” he cut in, flat. “doctor said one cup a day, and you already had it yesterday.” 

“that was yesterday, caleb.”

he turned his head just slightly to give her a look. “you really gonna argue with me over coffee?”

“anyways, i saw you yesterday trying to reach your mug on the upper shelf, and you were twisting weird to reach it.” he said seriously, turning to properly face her. “you’ve been gettin’ sore. i’m not taking any chances.”

she looked up at him, all stubborn and pink-cheeked, and he couldn’t help it—his hand settled over her bump with practiced ease, thumb brushing slow circles there. he could feel the way she leaned into his touch

eventually, she moved towards the fridge and caleb turned back to the stove for a second too long, and in that moment, she was already reaching for a knife and an banana.” 

“what’re you doin’?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“helping.”

he stepped toward her immediately. “(name).” 

“i’m just cutting bananas,” she whined, soft and dramatic. “you know i like it with my toast!”

they moved around each other in a slow, familiar rhythm— caleb trying to herd her away from the counter and her dancing carefully around his hands, her motions nimble and practiced in the cramped space of their shared kitchen.

it was routine by now. her trying to help him. him trying to stop her. the dance between them slow and sweet and full of half-smiles and quiet affection.

eventually, caleb sighed and leaned in close, his hand settling on her lower back. “fine,” he let out. “you can cut the damn banana. but that’s it. sit on the stool while you do it.”

she grinned. “yes colonel,” that sing-songy tone would surely drive him mad with love. her lips twitched in amusement as she shuffled to the stool with a cutting board he’d given to her in her hands.

she sat, knife in hand, watching him from across the counter. his back was to her now, broad and steady, one hand holding the skillet while the other cracked eggs with practiced ease. the smell of butter and pepper filled the air, and for a second, everything felt simple.

“you’re babying me again,” she said quietly, peeling the banana. “like… a lot.”

caleb didn’t turn, but his voice was low and careful when he answered. “you’re carryin’ my kid.”

“still.”

“i don’t care,” he said, firmer now. “you matter more than anythin’, and i’m not gonna risk anythin’ happenin’ to you.”

truthfully, he was scared. every time she winced or shifted too fast, every time her breathing changed just slightly in the night, his heart caught. he’d spent years preparing for danger— facing it, chasing it— but nothing had prepared him for this kind of fear. the quiet, constant kind. the kind where his whole world sat on the other side of the bed, wrapped in flannel pajamas and soft smiles.

and sometimes, when he lay awake with her curled into his chest, one hand resting over her stomach, he’d wonder—could he love this baby the way he loved her? would there be enough of his heart left? or would everything just pale in comparison to her?

he sighed, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. he didn’t want her to worry over him when she already had enough on her plate.

she puffed out her cheeks and slumped dramatically into one of the kitchen chairs. “you act like i’m made of glass…”

caleb didn’t turn around, but she saw his shoulders shake with a laugh. “you’re not made of glass, baby. but you’re carrying somethin’ real precious. i’m allowed to hover.”

“i’m going to start hovering over you if you keep bossing me around,” she muttered, only half serious. “i like helping…”

“you help by existing,” he said over the sizzle of the pan. “that’s enough. that’s all i need.”

she let out a soft huff, dragging her chair back noisily as she stood up again. “then i’m making the eggs.”

“no, you’re not.”

“i am.” she shuffled up beside him, barefoot and defiant after having kicked her slippers aside beneath the kitchen island she had been sitting by. she reached around him to nudge the spatula. “sunny-side up. you always forget i like them that way.”

“i forget because i like mine scrambled and i’m selfish.”

he caught her wrist gently before she could flip anything, the spatula now dangling between them. “baby…”

her bottom lip jutted out, and she gave him that look— eyes wide and brimming with the softest offence, like a puppy scolded for something it didn’t understand.

caleb sighed, leaning in and kissing the top of her head. “won’t you just let me take care of you? you’re always so fussy about everything. i just don’t want you to strain yourself or the baby.”

caleb moved to press his palms against the roundness of her stomach. 

“hey, little one,” he murmured, voice low and sweet as he rubbed little circles with his thumbs, addressing their child. “your mama’s being a real menace. trying to play chef when she’s supposed to be resting.”

“i’m right here, you know.” she mumbled, pouting again. 

caleb just grinned, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “don’t think they didn’t hear that attitude.”

he dropped his voice to a soft, exaggerated whisper, like he was telling a secret. “she won’t even let me feed her properly. tried to sneak coffee this morning, real scandalous behaviour from your mom, can you believe it?”

she squeaked in protest, turning her head slightly so her cheek pressed against his collarbone. you’re going to make our baby think i’m awful…”

“you?” he chuckled, rocking her gently side to side in that slow, swaying way he always did. “nah, they already love you more than me.”

finally, she softened, hands finding his at her belly, nudging his fingers with hers. the egg sizzled quietly behind them, forgotten for a moment. 

“sometimes i think about how much i love you, and it scares the hell out of me,” he admitted. “and now, there’s this baby. somethin’ that’s half you and half me.”

she blinked. 

“i’ve never loved anything more than i love you. i don’t know how i’m supposed to fit this baby in my heart when you already fill it up.”

she simply hummed, a sleepy smile on her face as she looked up at him, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet her gaze. 

“you think too much, you know?”

“so i’ve been told.” 

he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment like her palms alone could quiet all the noise in his head. she was warm. familiar. his.

she stretched up on her toes and pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “your heart’s bigger than you think, colonel. i should know, i live in their rent-free.” she said with a giggle.

he laughed, low and. helpless. the sound tumbled from his chest like a wave breaking like something unspooling and softening inside of him. his arms slide around her waist again, this time pulling her flush against him, the swell of her belly snug between them.

“you really are trouble,” he murmured against her hair. “sweet little thing with a sharp tongue and a refusal to stay put.”

she sniffed, resting her chin on his chest and pouting dramatically. “i’m still craving coffee, you know. the baby is telling me it wants some.”

“i’ll make you a smoothie,” he barged, swaying her gently again. ‘and you get to sit down and let me finish breakfast before we set the whole kitchen on fire. i think the eggs are overdone at this point…”

he glanced over at them, and even though he’d set the stove to low heat, he’d noticed the eggs had started to stick to the pan.

with a sigh, she kissed his jaw and finally peeled herself away, waddling back towards her stool by the counter, pretending to be more pregnant than she was just to make him laugh. caleb rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove, muttering something about eggs and bananas and wives who didn’t know how to take it easy.

but every so often, his gaze flicked back to her, just to make sure she was smiling. just to make sure she was real.

because in a life full of chaos, war and uncertainty, filled with constant threats that wished to separate them, there was something steady and unshakable about the sound of her humming at the kitchen counter. something miraculous in the way her hand absently stroked her belly, like she was already holding their baby close.

he flipped the eggs with care. two sunny-side up— just how she liked them.

[thewertsearch]

JOHN: what i'm wondering is, once we crashed through that window, weren't we supposed to like… JOHN: enter a new game session? the reset one? JOHN: and meet up with karkat, and vriska, and all the trolls, and i guess maybe also a bunch of dead trolls too??? like troll ghosts or such. JADE: yes that was the basic idea

Hm. That might be a problem, actually.

These two are flying directly from one Fourth Wall to another, presumably emerging in post-Scratch Derse at some point during the B2 session. It doesn't look like they'll be able to take a quick detour to the Furthest Ring, except perhaps by taking a nap - so unless they find another solution, we'll be forced to split the party for a while.

I thought Jade might be able to teleport them directly to Rose and Dave, or vice-versa - but if she could do that, the two groups would already be united. It can't be that easy.

There's probably some restriction on Jade's powers, which prevents her from taking this obvious course of action. Like, maybe if she teleports someone who's moving at 99% the speed of light, it causes some sort of nuclear explosion.

JOHN: oh god, rose and dave!!! where are they now? did one of them do the suicide mission thing? and what about the other? did they get scratch'd??? […] JADE: they did not actually destroy the sun. trust me, i would know if it was gone. now that i know what i know, it was kind of silly of us to think it would ever be destroyed…

Are you sure?

Doc Scratch - if we assume his 'honesty' schtick was legit - certainly seemed to think it could be destroyed by the Tumor. It was created by the Tumor, after all, so it makes intuitive sense that a bomb on the same scale could at least fuck it up a little.

...god, I still haven't even begun to digest the implications of Scratch creating the Sun. It's yet another hint that English is motivated by more than just his appetite, and is working on something much, much bigger behind the scenes.

JADE: and as it happens, rose and dave are not dead either! i have received very reliable reports that they survived

...when?

JADE: when i was dead there for a few minutes, i had one last very informative nap

Oh, ok, that makes sense.

So - from now on, every time our heroes fall asleep, Aradia et al. can reliably fill them in on what's been happening in the afterlife. Everyone say thank you, Feferi!

JOHN: so is this place like that yellow lawn ring thing karkat was talking about? […] JADE: its the yellow yard JADE: we have to cross it to break through the next wall […] JOHN: thats not a yard. JOHN: yards are like these flat wide patches of grass, surrounded by fences and stuff. JOHN: if anything, it's more like a road. […] JADE: kinda like the yellow brick road? JOHN: sure, why not!

Well, we have plenty of Witches and tin men, but Nepeta's really more of a kitten than a lion. Plus, she sure ain't no coward.

JOHN: what… JOHN: the fuck… JOHN: is that?

Do not look upon the face of God.