#Thank you so much for the ask!!!! Hi fives you

[entitled-fangirl]

I'll always be thanking you.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The reader goes through postpartum depression after she gives him yet another girl. Cregan reassures her that he loves his daughters.

Warnings: postpartum depression, recovering from childbirth, sexist culture

Masterlist

A/n: it's a two fic kinda day

...............................................................................

It had happened so suddenly.

Cregan thought all was right in the world. Everything was set in place by the Old Gods as it should be. Everything was perfect.

But he knew that the last two pregnancies had been unkind to her, prompting a horrid depression after them that went on for months. But when it hadn't shown yet for this last one, he thought that perhaps it had stopped completely.

Until now.

He stepped into their chamber with a broad smile, lightly bouncing the two-year-old on his arm. Arya. She giggled with each one, the sound distorted with the force of the bounces. Witnessing the intimidating man turn soft for the little girl was entirely endearing. 

"Your mother is still in bed," he chipped lightly as he observed his wife covered by the furs they shared every night.

"She always in bed," Lyanna, their five year old said as she trailed behind them.

"Not always," Cregan corrected firmly. "She just gave us your new sister. It takes a long time for the body and mind to recover from something that great."

A small shaking of his wife's shoulders from her laying form in the bed caused him to worry slightly. "Lyanna, why don't you take your sister?"

She wanted to complain but knew better than to argue with her father. She took the toddler's hand and they walked out from the room.

Cregan's recovering wife laid in their bed, completely unmoving except for the small shoulder shake he'd seen. It was a quiver and it sent him on edge. She only ever did that when-

"Are you crying?" He whispered as he sat on the bed, her back to him.

Finally she turned. She had been awake the entire time. Her face was red from crying, the paths of her tears evident on her face. Her lips pouted down as she suppressed a sob.

Cregan was quick to comfort her. He practically laid his body over hers, keeping an arm around her to let her weep into his collarbone. And she did so.

He cooed every few moments, his free hand rubbing at her hair. The tears pained him almost as much as watching her endure the harsh labor only a two weeks before.

When the violent part of the crying was over, he pulled her face away to look at her. "Now," he caressed her cheek, "What is all this for?"

She sniffled and hiccuped between words. "It's just… just… Sarra."

His face fell. "Is something wrong with the babe?"

"No. It's just…" she caught her breath. "Another girl."

Cregan's head tilted. "It is," he reckoned. "What is the problem, my love?"

"Can I not give you a boy?" She whispered in fear of the answer.

Realization flooded Cregan. "You're doing nothing wrong," he assured. "I love my girls with all my heart. Did you want a boy this badly?"

"I just want you to be proud of me."

He visibly flinched. The thought of his postpartum wife crying over giving him a healthy baby was too much for him. "I'm proud of you. You've given me three girls now."

"But it's not a boy." Her eyes continually welled up with tears. "I was so sure it was a boy."

"Do you think me that shallow, dear wife?" He asked in a firm tone. "That I'd have you birth children until I got a boy?"

"Two," she corrected. "You need an heir and a spare and I-" her breath caught. "I cannot even give you one. A cursed womb-"

"Don't say that." His voice was a firm growl, his hand grabbing her jaw a bit harder than he meant to. "Do not say that."

A few tears ran down her cheeks.

Cregan forced a sigh and let his anger die down. He sat up a bit, giving her space. "Do you think that all I wanted in this world were two sons? Do you think that is all my heart desires?"

It was clear that she knew deep down how ridiculous she sounded. "Well-"

"-I've said it many times. What does my heart desire? Hmm? What brightens my day more than the sun?"

She let out a breath through her nose.

Cregan continued, tilting his head down to catch her gaze. "My wife and what? What else?"

"Your children," she whispered.

"Hm?" He asked, though he clearly heard it. He just wanted her to say it once again.

"Your children," she said a bit louder. 

He smiled. "Yes, our children." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Whether we had had one or you give me an army, I shall love them all until my remains in the crypt are long gone. Being a boy or girl doesn't change it."

"But… Winterfell-"

"-We'll deal with the succession when it is meant to happen. Until now, you're going to rest, and I'm going to spend time with our children. But I'm not going anywhere until you've done your part."

"The maester said it would take much longer to heal this time," she muttered. To herself or Cregan, she wasn't sure.

"That's alright. We've got all the time we need for now, don't we? No need to rush things."

"But the sooner we try-"

"-No-"

"-And Sarra was such a surprise-"

"-Stop-"

"-The next one could be sooner-"

"-Love," he said with a slightly raised voice. "When you're healed and ready to try once more, I will be eternally grateful. But I can wait a lifetime if I need to. I have all I need in the world already."

There was a small knock on the door. "Papa?"

No doubt it was Arya.

Cregan grinned and kissed his wife's temple before going to the door. In the doorway stood little Arya, her hair a sandy brown like Cregan's, her bright eyes like her mother. "What do you need?" It was a firm ask from him, but not one without care.

Arya had yet to say complete sentences yet, only a few  words here and there and the lord would be forced to try to make sense of them. She babbled about something and Cregan's brows raised, completely at a loss. "Um… I-"

"Here, darling," Y/n's soft voice came from behind Cregan as she walked to them. In her hand was Arya's doll that she had no doubt dropped earlier. It was a carefully sewn piece from Cregan's bastard sister, Sara, of whom the new babe was named after. "I see Aunt Sara got a new dress for her, hm?"

Arya grabbed the doll quickly from her mother and hugged the doll tightly. 

Cregan wrapped an arm around his wife. He wanted to scold her for getting up but he would refrain from that for now. "Aye. A very pretty dress," he tried to compliment. Cregan didn't know the first thing about sewing or doll making, or even the fashion of ladies, but he tried anyway to please his girls.

Arya's brows came together in clear confusion, prompting his wife to lightly elbow him. He gave a grunt and gawked.

"It's a battle dress," she spoke through her teeth. "It's a doll dressed like a female warrior."

He decided to go along with it, though he clearly didn't understand it. "I mean, what a very fierce dress. Seems very… protective."

Arya accepted that answer and held the doll out for Cregan to truly see. His gruff hand reached out and took the doll, bringing it up to his level to admire. His sister had done well with it, even he could see that. "So very pr-" he caught himself. "So very strong."

Arya jumped up to grab the doll and Cregan handed it back to her. The two parents watched her take off again like nothing had happened. 

"How'd you know what she wanted?" He asked his wife.

She rubbed at her tired eyes, ignoring the slight ache in her thighs. "She said so. Didn't you hear it?"

"We have three lovely girls and I still have so much to learn," he remarked, amusement oozing from his voice.

She gave a tired grin at that. She began leaning more into him than before and he held her hips taught. "Now," he remarked, "to bed with you."

"Sarra might need me-"

"-I'll check on Sarra."

"And Lyanna was hoping to play outside-"

"-I'll see to it."

"And Arya-"

"-What of Arya?" He asked quietly.

She paused. "I- She always needs something."

He let out a deep chuckle, guiding her back to the bed. "I'll see to it all. I promise you. I can be a father, whether you believe that or not."

She hummed. "I do."

"Alright. Then let me." He kissed her cheek, his scruff rubbing at her skin. "We'll get you in bed."

"Can the girls visit later?" 

He couldn't deny those bright eyes of hers. The same ones each of his girls inherited. It was his one weakness. "After you sup, then yes. But that is in a few hours."

Relief and excitement pulled at her shoulders, a comforting feeling washing over her. "Thank you."

As he tucked her back into the bed, he smiled at her. "Don't thank me. You've given me everything. I'll always be thanking you."

................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar @kidd3ath @yujyujj @misswynters @cosmosnkaz @sithapprentice @kaniromi @lovemesomevesey @its-jackie-bb @thorins-queen-of-erebor @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn @callsignwidow @a1lexh-blog @alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867 @helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[awrkive]

Wer is grumpy jk! We badly need it 😫😭

summary: you and jungkook are getting closer, moving forward – but to where, exactly? what does that entail for your relationship? 

w/c: 3.3k

note: this is for all the girlies who asked for part 2 for this drabble. nothing but fluff in here ): ive been thinking abt college jk lately and i lowkey like this grumpy!jk guy… basically this takes place two months after the first drabble u may read this amm for grumpy!jk for a brief bg on what their relationship has become before u go read this parr. anyway the ending is a bit diabolical and im saying sorry in advance

also pls listen to come here by kath bloom, its literally so them 😮‍💨😖

It’s almost natural the way Jungkook immediately slings his backpack on one shoulder, heads straight out of the lecture hall, and starts the almost ten-minute walk from his department building to yours the moment his last class for the day was dismissed. 

He waits outside by the hallway along the lecture room, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, knowing that any minute now you’ll be coming out of the door. 

And just as a slew of students’ chattering becomes louder, their heavy footsteps coming out from the hall, Jungkook instantly spots you; talking to a friend animatedly – Joy, maybe? – before you look to the other side and finally see him. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim with excitement, smiling up at him and even doing a little wave. Jungkook watches as you turn to your friend. “Sorry, I gotta go. Zoom meeting at five, right?” He hears you say before she nods, bidding your goodbyes to each other before she goes in the opposite direction while you saunter towards him with that usual dashing grin on your face. 

Jungkook meets you halfway, lips curling up slightly at your enthusiastic greeting. Even more so when you don’t fight off the way he goes for your tote bag, taking it off your shoulder and wearing it on his own, the weight not adding that much to his own bag perched on his back. 

He remembers the first time he tried to do it (awkwardly, might he add), and you vehemently refused. But Jungkook can be persistent sometimes when he wants to, and eventually you gave up trying to resist.

Currently, as you walk along the hallway out of your building, standing close together, Jungkook tries not to think too much about how easy this feels. Like it’s normal the way you immediately interlock your arm around his own, skipping a little bit upon your walk as you begin speaking.

“You really did cut your hair.” You marvel at him when he looks down at you. And he can’t help it; the blood rushing to his cheeks and certainly on his ears. 

“I sent you a picture.” He simply says. It was yesterday. He originally went to his barber for just a trim but he remembers you saying something about a particular actor’s haircut… and look, it’s not like he was trying to look like that man but it may have influenced the decision a little bit… 

Anyway, he thinks it looks okay on him. He trusts his barber and Hoseok said it suits him. From your response, you also said it looks nice. 

And you tell him so. “I like it! You look so good. Especially with this frame!” You point to his eyeglasses, smiling up at him. “I was thinking you were just sending me a random picture last night.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “I wasn't, and uh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. Anyway,” you say, “Did you wait for long earlier? Sorry ‘bout that. Prof. Shin had to extend a little bit ‘cause there were a lot of questions about our new project.” 

“You have a new project?”

“Yeah, but nothing really heavy. Just a hotel lobby interior design. We got a week and it’s a paired task thing, that’s why you saw me with Joy earlier—”

He sees a flock of students ahead huddling by your side of the pathwalk, and because you have a tendency to not really pay that much attention to your surroundings, he takes you by the waist slightly to avoid bumping with them, causing you to stumble closer to him. 

You crane your neck to look behind you for a moment, gaze falling back up to Jungkook with widened eyes. “Sorry.” you say with a jutted lip and a little frown. 

“It’s okay.” Jungkook says with a reassuring smile. He means it. He likes being close like this and if you don’t watch your surroundings, he’ll just do it for you. He doesn’t mind. 

You grin. “Anyway… I was saying, it’s a hotel interior. But! The thing is, it’s a themed hotel, which I’m really excited about ‘cause I’m tired of designing contemporary, luxury ones. They always tend to be so redundant.” 

Jungkook nods. “I think so too. What’s the themed hotel about?” 

“Have you heard of a film called Metropolis?” He shakes his head. You nod at that. “Well, yeah, me neither. At least a week ago. Prof gave it to us as an assignment and it’s a silent film from the ‘20s. A sci-fi tale, so very futuristic – at least for that time. So that’s the theme of the hotel, right, and Joy and I immediately thought of art deco.” 

Jungkook intently listens as you go on about your initial ideas, and he doesn’t even have to worry about the terms he doesn’t understand because you always take time to explain it to him in layman’s. It’s funny, really, because ever since he’s learned that you study interior design and started to talk to him about it, he found himself taking interest in it as well. Two months ago, he couldn't have given a single care about a couple named Charles and Ray Eames and their weird chair called La Chaise, but here he is, anyway.

Maybe it’s because of the way you so passionately talk about it. Your zeal oozes out so much when it comes up as the topic of conversation, and there’s always been something about you that pulls people right in. And Jungkook’s at peace with himself now that he’s just one of those people. 

He’s willing to be pulled right in, anyway. You don’t exactly make it hard to. 

And Jungkook finds that the newfound dynamic between you two isn’t… so bad. He finds excitement at the prospect of seeing you after his classes are concluded, going to Fro-yo for a quick snack because you’re obsessed with it, and studying together at his place later in the day.

A lot of people would say he’s making up for all the times he’s ignored you. The times when he pretended to not care about you. The times when he was just unprovokedly mean and treated you the way he regrets now. And sure, it may have started that way. Ever since your Environmental Science project was finished and the term was over, Jungkook started to feel like he couldn’t go back to the life where you weren’t within his perimeter. Couldn’t imagine you both being back to – practically – regular strangers, so he just… opened up to you more.

He shares his own stories now. Tells you about his day after you do so, and invites you to Fro-yo and other cafes and restaurants around campus whenever your schedules align. 

And maybe at first it was, indeed, because he was trying to make up for his past behavior – but that may have only been what he convinced himself of for the first few weeks. When the week stretched into months and the months suddenly involved you doing sleepovers at his place whenever his roommate, Hoseok, is not around, Jungkook is starting to question himself if this is all still about simply making it up to you. 

Because frankly, he’s starting to feel like it's a little more than that.

He’s not just buying you frozen yogurt and helping you with any assignment (that requires his silly and minuscule math and science expertise) and letting you borrow and keep his hoodies and shirts whenever you sleep over because he’s trying to make up for the past – he’s doing all of these because he genuinely enjoys your company and would like to do more for you… with you… to you… and just… just more. 

He wants more with you. 

And every single day is a daunting battle for his internal mullings. 

Because he knows he’s been stupid all this time not to realize right away that he’s got romantic feelings for you. That his confusion when it comes to you didn't come from the reason that you were extremely extroverted and had way too much energy – it was that those things made him like you and his little heart and brain couldn’t comprehend any of it the way he can easily wrap his head around math equations and concepts.

But he keeps himself on the sidelines. Thinks about keeping himself there until he’s sure of what you truly think about. 

You’re always nice to him. But you’re kind of nice to everybody… so that gets him a little twisted.

On Monday, when you were supposed to hang out – when you usually sleep over at his place, you bailed on him to study with Jae, as per Taehyung's words, your mutual friend.

He just can’t tell if the way you treat him is different to the way you treat everyone else, and that’s what’s been on his mind lately. 

“Oh, Kookie,” you say as soon as Jungkook takes out his keys, going for his keyfob when you arrive at the parking area. He looks at you in question, completely ignoring the way his heart flutters a little at the nickname. He kind of hates it, thinks it's too childish when other people call him that – but with you it sounds so much like an endearment, so he doesn't protest. You press your lips into a thin line before you say, “I can’t go to Fro-yo today. Joy and I agreed to have a zoom meeting later to start conceptualizing.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Rain check?” 

You pout. “Yeah.” 

“You can do it at my place? Hoseok’s doing an all-nighter with his study group, so he won’t be there ‘til the morning.”

“But I didn’t bring my laptop today.”

With furrowed brows, Jungkook steps closer to you. “It’s alright. We can drive to your place, get your laptop then go to mine,” he smiles. “Sleepover?” 

Jungkook doesn’t want to toot his own horn but he may have seen your face light up at that. But it comes off easily and he begins to worry.

“I want to, but I don’t want to impose.” You say. 

Instantly, Jungkook’s forehead creases. “You won’t be imposing.” When he sees that you’re about to decline again, he lets out a, “Please?” 

At that, you stop. You stare at him for a moment. 

“Uh…” you trail off. “You sure? Are you not busy tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll probably start on an assignment so we can be both busy–” you nudge his arm at that, laughing. “– but other than that, no. I’ll cook us something. Or do you want to get take-out instead?” 

“I’d really, really appreciate your black bean noodles tonight.” You muse, looking at him like he holds the stars in the sky. With you gazing up at him like that, how can he say no?

“I think we have the ingredients in the fridge. Black bean noodles it is, then.” Jungkook says before you’re muffling your own squeal in your excitement, saying your little delighted “thank you” when Jungkook ushers you in the passenger seat after opening it for you. 

He rounds the car before he settles on his side, and when he starts the engine, he can’t help but smile slightly at the way you lean comfortably on your seat, as if you’re so used to being in his car – which you are.

And Jungkook finds he likes that. He likes you that way; being used to being around him. 

“You’re done?” Jungkook looks up from his computer, seeing you doing some arm stretches and leaning into his gaming chair to do it on your neck as well. 

“Yep.” 

“Then come here already.” He shuts his laptop close, places it on the bedside table, and pats the space on the mattress next to him. 

It’s nearly 10pm and your zoom meeting with Joy went for nearly 4 hours. You got on it immediately after you two ate your dinner, and like clockwork, asked to borrow one of Jungkook’s shirts because your top was getting a little too uncomfortable on your body. You’ve both already showered – separately, of course – and that’s one of the many things that Jungkook smiles about when he enters his bathroom sometimes. Because the fact that you shower in his bathroom means your essentials are slowly making a space for themselves in his own place; the yellow cup holder of your toothbrush sits next to his blue one, and a bottle of your moisturizer is also in his lavatory cabinet. 

“‘M so tired” You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing a little on it face down, sprawling across the bed like some starfish, your other hand landing on Jungkook’s abdomen. 

“Meeting went well?” Jungkook asks, and he’s a little disappointed when you remove an arm on him, but that’s okay, because soon you’re leaning sidewards to properly look at him and it makes him smile to see you so cozy like this. Barefaced and in his shirt. 

“Yeah, we got some work done,” You say. Jungkook watches as you try to get comfortable on your side of the bed. “I think I’m sleepy now.” 

“Yeah?” He follows after you, and he doesn’t hide his huge smile when you go and turn your back to him immediately after he slides his arm under your neck, spooning you from behind. Snuggling closer to him, Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist and lets out a contented sigh against the back of your head. “My first class is at one thirty pm tomorrow.” 

“I have one at eight am. Then the next one is at ten.” 

“Tough.” 

“I know… I wish I didn’t enlist in morning classes.” 

He chuckles, closing his eyes as he starts to feel that familiar lull of sleep dancing behind his eyes. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to give into that just yet.

“You were with Jae on Monday?” He asks, carefully treading through the subject. It’s Thursday now. It's not like Jungkook’s a jealous guy… it just kind of threw him off a little, because you didn’t tell him you were with Jae. 

“Uh… yeah?” Jungkook feels you freezing in his arms. “How’d you know?” 

“Taehyung told me.” 

“Oh.” He can practically hear the wince. “He has such a big mouth.” You say drily. 

That earns you a laugh from Jungkook. But he decides to take down the jokes for a more honest and open conversation with you tonight. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not accusatory. It’s soft and gentle, the way he asks it, with his thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your hip due to the hem of your – his – shirt riding up. 

Your answer takes awhile. 

“I was… getting help with estimates.” 

“... Okay,” Jungkook tightens his hold around you, growing confused. “But I’m really good with estimates. I could’ve helped you.” It was easy math for him. And you never shied away from asking him for help before… why now?

“Well, he offered.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease deeper. “That’s not…" he trails off, then continues, "You know you can ask me for anything, right? Jae’s not even on the dean's list. How’d you know he’s teaching you the right stuff?”  

Silence hangs in the air before Jungkook hears your laughter. Shuffling in his arms, Jungkook loosens his hold around you to let you turn to him. When he sees your face, there's a huge grin on it.

“He’s not even on the dean’s list?” You sound intrigued.

Jungkook assumed you were curiously speaking, and so he nods, looking into your eyes seriously. “He isn’t. Look, I’m not saying–” when he notices your smile only getting wider by the second, he realizes you’re just trying to fuck with him, so Jungkook cuts himself off, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole.”

You scoot closer until both the front of your bodies are stuck. Jungkook tries not to think too much whether you’re wearing a bra underneath his shirt or not. 

You shake your head. “Not really. I believe you’re way smarter than him.” 

“Then why come to him and not me?” 

You stare at him for a moment, then you let out a heavy breath. “I just feel like you’re doing so many things for me nowadays. You were also really busy on Monday– don’t deny it–” you say before he opens his mouth to oppose that. He shuts his lips close, listening to you go on instead. “– and I was just being considerate. Jae offered because we saw and sat next to each other at the library, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Jungkook blinks, processing your words. After a pregnant pause, he slowly nods, still dumbstruck. 

“Ah… okay. I understand.” he says, embarrassment slowly filling his system. 

You smile at him. Playfully. “Sorry for asking help from someone who’s not on the dean’s list.” Jungkook drops his expression into a poker face at that, which makes you laugh even more. You nibble on your bottom lip before you stretch your hand to his cheek and pinch it. He doesn’t bother dodging your hand. With a giggle, you say, “Sorry, sorry. That was just so funny. You’re so funny without even trying sometimes, you know?” 

“Not really.” Jungkook says and you can tell the tell-tale signs of his grumpiness starting to kick in.

What he doesn’t expect is the way you suddenly squeal and launch yourself on top of him, causing him to lie fully on his back with you sprawled all over his body, hugging him tight and burying your face in his chest. 

“You’re so cuddly and warm. Can we stay like this for awhile?” You break away from his chest and look at him from a low angle. 

Jungkook meets your gaze. 

Sure, you’ve been cuddling (platonically) all these past few months – but they never went to this length. And he’s not sure what the difference is, anyway – just that you’re much closer like this and Jungkook can feel everything. Still, that doesn’t deter him from wrapping his arms around your waist, slightly locking you in the position. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even want you to move. 

“Alright.” Is his simple answer. Not like he needed to think about it.

“I’ll sleep now, okay?” But you don’t wait for his response before you lay on his chest again with your cheek pressed on his hoodie.

Because the moment just feels right somehow, Jungkook lets his hand wander on your head. Then slowly, he lets his fingers comb through the strands of your hair, tentatively at first, lest you didn’t want him touching you or something like that – but once he hears a sound akin to a purr coming from you, he continues and finds himself getting comforted by the action as well. 

“The Jae thing really bothered you?” You ask suddenly, not breaking away from the position you’ve assumed on top of his body. But your words are slightly slurred in the haze of sleep.

Jungkook hums. “Yes.” 

“Sorry for not telling you myself.” 

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures you. His gaze falls to the ceiling, hand still caressing your hair. The surface is empty, and there’s not really much going on. Meanwhile, in your own bedroom, you have those glow in the dark star stickers pasted on your white ceiling. He’s never slept over there, but he thinks it would be nice to lay under your makeshift galaxy with your homely scent surrounding the two of you. “Are you not gonna ask why I was bothered?” He says after a beat. 

“I was gonna. But I think I know.” You answer, and Jungkook doesn’t expect that one bit.

He stops his ministrations on your hair, and it’s obvious that you’re about to question it when you suddenly peel your face away from his chest again. 

When you do, Jungkook meets your gaze and with a leveled tone, he asks the question he’s been mulling about for the past two months.

“__, what are we?” 

[prentisslvr]

congrats on 100 followers. i’ve been following since your first spencer fic, checkmate. i absolutely love your writing. could i ask for a spencer reid, with prompt 4 (he’s saying it) and then 8 (with reader saying it)

WHATS MINE IS YOURS

summary; you spill something on your shirt and you borrow spencer’s

genre: fluff, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers.

prompt; “is that my shirt?” & “stop looking at me like that.”

authors note: i’m not sure if i like this, this was a little rushed but 🤷‍♀️

you had arrived at work in a haste, two cups of freshly made coffee in your hands, one for you, the other for spencer.

which was what you did every morning, but it’d just so happened that today, emily had her intern running around completing tasks, one of them being running right into you, causing you to spill piping hot coffee all over your white top.

you would’ve screamed had it not been for the fact the intern looked like she was going to burst into tears right then and there, so with a strained smile, and a pat on her shoulder you’d made your way back to your car looking around for something to wear.

the only thing being a spencers fresh laundry you’d picked up from the laundromat for him, he woke up pretty early in the morning, but he lived a walk away from the nearest laundromat.

and since you had a car, you grabbed them for him.

he appreciated this greatly, even if it had taken you weeks to convince him to allow you to do it, you lived like five minutes away from the laundromat, he live about fifteen minutes away in a car, probably thirty minutes to walk like he did.

you just liked making things easier, penelope had once said your love language was acts of service, whatever that meant.

you walked into the bullpen in one of his button up shirts, you sigh taking a seat at your desk, the shirt was white with stripes, it wasn’t your usual attire and it drew attention, from almost everyone.

especially the man who owned it, at first, he’d just thought you changed up your style for a moment, but when he really looked, he noticed what you were wearing.

his shirt.

and, god, he was having palpitations, you were in his shirt, and you looked really good.

it was no lie to the entire team, and well, pretty much the world, that whilst you and spencer were best friends, there was something more than that between the two of you.

“is that my shirt?”

your eyes shoot up from your paperwork and you guiltily nod. “i spilt coffee and im not exactly the most prepared person in the world, i had your laundry and—”

“don’t worry about it.” he smiled cutting your little rant off. “what’s mine is yours.”

you sigh thankfully. “thanks spence, you really are a lifesaver.”

as you continued work though, spencer would not stop sending you glances, if it were someone else, you may even have seen a hint of desire in his eyes.

but it was spencer, surely he wouldn’t.

“stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, it’d been ten minutes and spencer wouldn’t stop staring at you, granted you’d been looking too, but still.

spencer blinks. “like what?” his ears going red, he’d been caught, but he couldn’t help it, you just looked so good in his shirt, he’d never felt so attracted to you before now.

“nothing, nevermind.” you bite your lip looking down at your work with frown and spencer smiled, he’d tell you one day.

but for now the dr would settle for his stolen glances and making sure he kept a couple spare shirts in case you ever happen to ruin one of your own once again.

[eupheme]

ahhh I’m in love with the way you write oldman!logan! Lately I’ve been thinking about dom!logan bending his girl over his knee and giving her a couple spankings, and of course rewarding her for her good behavior later ;) love ur page so much!

oh! 😳💖 dom!old man logan has my heart and he for sure wouldn’t hesitate to put you over his knee - I love this so much!! I hope this little blurb did your idea justice because I am obsessed!! (and thank you so so much!! for the kind words and this awesome ask! 💕)

lessons | old man logan x f!reader

550 words | impact play, spanking, sub/dom vibes, teasing, begging, fingering

He can hear each sound that slips from you. Every gasp and whine. The sharp, inhaled breath you hold, with the twist of his wrist.

Bracing for impact.

If his eyes were to shut, he thinks he’d hear more. The hammering of your heart beneath your ribs, the creak of your fingers as they fist in the fabric of his trousers.

Feel more - the hot exhale of your breath, buried against his thigh. The shift of your knees as they inch wider.

Your scent rolls off you in waves. So much of him has diminished over the years - the once-sharp shine of his claws now dulled. That silver gleam now scuffed up, matted.

But not his senses. Helpless with the way you overwhelm him, all that want and desire building to a crescendo.

It’s supposed to be a punishment, and he can’t pretend it’s not torture.

“How many left?”

It’s more gruff than he means to be. Demanding - a hard edge to the words.

A breath, before you’re answering, “F-five.”

“And you got it through that head of yours?”

“Yes.”

The syllables draw out - the slightest flinch in anticipation, when his hand lifts from the armrest. The cool roll of his now-empty whisky glass against a cheek, the liquor now faded from his tongue.

Followed up the cup of a broad palm. The skin warm beneath, where he’s already begun. Ten, placed swiftly.

Resisting the urge to twist his wrist once more. Let his fingers drift against your seam, knowing they’d come back slick. Tilt his head down enough to drag his tongue against the glossy ring of condensation left against your skin.

But, you’d never learn that way.

“Good,” He rasps, “Gonna finish them out.”

Fingers curling, unable to help the slightest squeeze. You clench with your sigh, his thumb stroking skin just above where your leggings are tugged down, framing the pretty curve of your ass.

“Not gonna take it easy on you, just ‘cause you said yes.”

You nod. An arch to your back, as you breathe out a, “Thank you.”

His jaw ticks. A curse bitten back as his cock throbs, where it presses against his trousers - your hip rubbing against him each time you jolt forward.

It’s enough that his hand is swinging again. A sharp crack, punctuated by the gasp as the air is pushed from your lungs.

“Count ‘em, sweetheart.”

“Five.” You pant.

Then four. Then three, two. One.

Logan’s rougher than he needs to be. A real cry pulled on the last one, a punctuation to the lesson he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

Your thighs flex, where you’re bend over his knees. Eyes half-lidded and tear-rimmed, when your head turns - cheek pressed against a thigh.

His own admiring his work. Unable to help the drift of his hand, now. Thumb denting your skin, tugging.

“Please.” You squirm - always wanting, “Logan-”

His own name, whined out. None of the pretty names you call him, dripping with submission. Forgetting yourself with your need, and it does something to him.

He sinks into heat. Two fingers tucked together, burying between your slick thighs. Feeling how you give around him, a pitched-high moan that has the edge of his lips twitching.

Giving you what you need, once more. A reward, for how well you took him.

Because along with the rest -

Maybe he’s grown a little less patient over the years, as well.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

[woncon]

➳ sick duty.

➶ poly!ateez x gn!reader (yungisang focus) ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ Yunho is sick, and you and Yeosang are on sick duty. When the others still haven't arrived with jelly, you decide to go to the nearest shop in the raging storm and buy some, because Yunho really wants them.

➴ genre: slice of life, sickfic, estabilished relationship, polyamory, non-idol!au

: ̗̀➛ warnings: poor yunho has a fever, one sexually suggestive offer, petnames, nudity

⌨ :: 3.5K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ This idea came to me when I saw a double rainbow in early June while listening to Golden Hour Pt1. It was supposed to play in the summer, but I never got to the end. Now autumn came and I decided to write it. But in this rainy, gloomy weather it seemed better to set it in a more autumnal setting. That changed my basic idea a lot, but I'm happy with it as it is.

⁀➷ My lovely @wonsheep, I'm still sorry the rain poured on you so heavily on Wednesday. :( But it was very motivating, as you can see. Many thanks for reading through the story and founding my silly mistakes!

➳ mlist

I'm hot.

I want tea.

I'm cold.

The sickly season of the autumn-winter months spares no one. Yunho, who is hard to dislodge from whatever well-endowed giraffe's legs he has, is now curled up in the middle of the bed, disconsolate because he didn't pull on a thick enough scarf, or was carelessly underdressed in the living room, or simply spent too much time around a co-worker who has been lurking with some virus. Whichever the case, the poor guy is in a terrible mood.

"I want medicine," he whispers his next wish.

You look at your watch.

“One more hour before you can take the next one,” you say, brushing his hair away to touch his sweat beaded forehead. It's still as warm as underfloor heating.

Frustrated, he rolls to the side and buries his head fully into the pillow. You drop your hands back into your lap, helpless. It's simply exasperating to watch him suffer, to listen to his snotty, ragged breathing mix with the rain beating against the window.

“Do you want something to help?” you ask, when he turns to you again and raises his feverish eyes to you. The skin around his nose is flushed from all the blowing.

“Jelly.”

Yunho is convinced that jelly sweets can help him. Or at least when he's sick, he likes to eat sweets. Other times, not so much. Unfortunately, you guys weren't prepared for Yunho being sick in the near future. Plus, there's a storm brewing, the kind you haven't seen in a long time. It's been raining steadily for a week now, sometimes more, sometimes less. The others went to do the shopping with the car, leaving Yunho behind with the promise to bring him some jelly. He responded with a small, grateful smile.

Now, looking at his tortured expression, you would give a lot to see that smile again, the hope in his eyes. You reach out and take his hand. You sigh. Gently, slowly, you caress the back of his hand, knowing how sensitive he is to touch when he has a fever. You don't want to overdo it and hurt him, but at the same time you want to let him know physically that you're there for him.

"It's on the way." You really hope it is. The last time Jongho called, they were already at the checkout. Your youngest friend boasted that they were bringing five full bags of jelly beans. That was about twenty minutes ago. No news since then. It bothers you that you can't offer an immediate solution to Yunho's every wish.

Before Yunho can ask any more questions, the door opens. Yeosang arrives with a tray holding a steaming mug and something wrapped in napkins that you can't identify yet. With cautious steps, he moves to the other side of the bed among some discarded clothes - because Yunho didn't want to shower this morning, just threw everything off the bed he'd chosen as his regular place - and then takes a seat, placing the tray safely on the bedside table, gently moving Seonghwa's half-finished book.

“I've brought the tea," he says to Yunho. "And I found some biscuits to go with it."

Interested, the patient moves up on the pillow, but still looks vulnerable. Yeosang holds the cup in his hand and gives the man small sips. Meanwhile, you get up and gather up the laundry strewn around the bed and take it to the bathroom. On the way, you hear a conversation emanating from the kitchen, from which you hear the word 'jelly bean' clearly spoken at one point. So after throwing the laundry in the hamper, you go to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. The room is filled with the smell of hot water and tea leaves. Mingi is putting away the tea ingredients. The call is already finished, his phone is on the counter.

Originally, Mingi wouldn’t be on sick duty today. Today's subordinates are you and Yeosang, Mingi just didn't want to leave the apartment in this crazy weather and he’s helping you instead. It's not like this sick duty thing is strict in your relationship, and it's set in stone that Mingi can only nurse Yunho on Mondays and Fridays and holidays or anything. That said, there are rules. For example, Mingi usually only needs one nurse when he gets a cold or something more serious, but at such times it is Yunho for most of the time. Then there's Jongho, who, if he falls ill, no matter what the schedule, has all eight of you at his disposal twenty-four hours a day. Or, again, there's Seonghwa, who hides the fact that he's sick until it's too obvious, and you're all freaking out as to why he won't let you take care of him.

Yunho usually hardly gets sick. When he does, even a mild cold will get him down. And when he is ill, he's even fussier than the sick Wooyoung, and only one lover has a hard time coping with his demands. Usually two people are enough to care for him if there are jelly beans nearby. Which, for now, there aren’t.

“Are they on their way home?” you ask Mingi, who's packing honey. 

"It's worse downtown than here," he says. "The traffic's bad. They're just moving towards home inch by inch."

You both look out of the window, and the tapping of the rain remains as unrelenting as the fever that plagues Yunho.

“Is the tea to his liking?”

“I'm sure of it,” you smile at him. Mingi is usually insecure when it comes to Yunho's well-being. You suspect that the boy's illness was a more significant reason for Mingi to stay home than his desire not to get wet. “But you can ask him.”

You return to the bedroom with Mingi at your side. You remind yourself that this room now functions as a ward. The patient is huddled near the edge of the bed, munching on biscuits soaked in tea, so that they don't scratch his throat.

“It's not jelly,” he mutters, then pulls away from Yeosang and lies back on the upholstered cushions.

You look at Yeosang. Your theory is that you're thinking the exact same thing. If jelly beans are the only thing that helps your boyfriend, you'll do anything to get them. You're even willing to go to the convenience store in the pouring rain, because when you are on sick duty, Yunho mustn't lack anything.

"We'll go and get jelly beans," you say. Yeosang nods his head in commitment.

“We'll go?” Mingi looks terrified. “All of us?”

You can't leave Yunho alone in this state. It's a good thing that Mingi is here, in addition to Yeosang and you, ready for action, and not stuck in traffic with the others downtown. 

“No. You stay here with Yunho and look after him.”

Mingi continues to blink. 

“We'll be quick, don't worry, you don't have to multitask. Yuyu will probably fall asleep soon.”

"It's not me I'm worried about," he protests, "You'll get wet and cold."

"The store is not far away. We won't have enough time in the rain to freeze to death."

Yeosang wraps Yunho in a blanket and kisses him on the head.

"Mingi?" The man folded in a burrito addresses the worried individual.

“Yes?”

“Gimme a hug.”

Mingi doesn't resist, but climbs onto the bed, swapping places with Yeosang, who pats his shoulder as he passes. Before you even leave the room, you hear Mingi apologize and ask for Yunho's forgiveness.

Yeosang sticks the umbrella out the door. Just a little to test how much it rains. There's really barely any surface out, but the wind immediately grabs it and tugs it further. He pulls it back in time before the umbrella swings out or the wind wins, and you close the door with a great struggle, which also wants to jump off its hinges from the violent gusts of wind.

“I think this will stay here,” Yeosang says, and then drops the solid black umbrella behind you.

You zip up your raincoat. It occurs to you that maybe Mingi is right, and you're so wet you'll get stuck in a puddle of icy water. Yet the idea doesn't discourage you, doesn't make you stay, because Yunho needs the jellies.

Yeosang adjusts his hood, then holds out his hand. You embrace him tightly. You check your wallet stashed in the waterproof pocket one last time and place your hand on the doorknob. Then you push it down. The door swings open, and you let it drag you along with it. The back of your coat gets soaked immediately. The rain doesn't fall, it instead pours down from behind in a wave with the wind. Clinging on to Yeosang in vain, it's hard to keep up your own pace and not lurch forward like a rag doll. It's a wonder your boyfriend can close the door.

Although the shop is indeed a block away, at this time it feels like you're wandering for eternity. For one thing, the scenery is completely different in the rain, it's harder to navigate, especially in the raging, commanding wind. Around one corner, Yeosang has to pull you in, because out of nowhere a car appears, its wheels gallantly splashing a full puddle onto the pavement.

Somehow, you do reach the store. As soon as the automatic door closes behind you, the storm is out of the way. Inside, the weather is pleasant. Only the clothes clinging to your skin and the small puddles and mud stains on the floor left by other shoppers are reminders of what a doomsday is happening outside.

“Huh,” you sigh in relief. The first game of the war against weather is over. You only have one more to go to succeed in the jelly bean mission.

“We're crazy," Yeosang shakes his head in disbelief. Then he smiles up at you, sweetly and lovingly, because he's proud you're crazy. You return it.

Insanity is part of sick duty to some extent. Last time San must have used up thirty tissues a day, and ran out in the middle of the week. Hongjoong ran so fast to replace the used-up packets that he was almost hit by a truck. And when you were sick and craving nothing but a mug of hot tomato soup when all the shops were closed and there were no tomatoes at home, only ketchup... Well, Jongho tried.

You purposefully seek out sweets. Luckily, you don't have to wander around and scout the place, you'll often find yourself here. You take off two bags of Yunho's favourite flavour, sour apple. You remember again how pitiful your otherwise healthy and cheerful boyfriend looks.

“This will help him,” Yeosang says encouragingly, as if he's reading your mind.

You nod, then head for the cashier. You get in line. From here, you can see the window and the rain pouring down.

For the first time since the jelly bean plan was born, you have time to think about Mingi's excuse when he cuddled up to Yunho. It's my fault. I'm sorry. But how could it be his fault that Yunho caught a cold?

You're rewinding the previous two weeks. Yunho was in home office the whole time. He really enjoyed it, and when he wasn't working, he was playing video games. He didn't put his foot out until one time when he had to pop down to the shop for something. It didn't rain so heavily that day, just a gentle drizzle. Maybe Mingi had taken off Yunho's blanket one night? It couldn't be, either, because they'd been sleeping far apart lately.

It's your turn, so you suspend your musings. When you get back, you'll ask Mingi and hope it's not too embarrassing for him not to tell you. If he feels guilty, you could help him and reassure him that it's not his fault.

You and Yeosang pay. You put the bags in your coat pockets. You pull the hood up, not that it matters. You cling together again, then step out onto the soggy pavement. 

The way back is harder. This time the wind brings the rain from the front. Each blast smacks you in the face. Neither of your hoods can stay up. Your hair gets wet, the rain drips under your coat. You successfully step into a puddle, literally splashing in the muddy water, and the inside of your boots get soaked. You're wet everywhere, from your elbows to your toes. It's really annoying, but you don't falter, clutching Yeosang's arm until you reach the sheltering door of your home to drop in like two wet rags on the threshold and with a combined effort you shut out the cold, ominous wind. Yeosang slides along the door, his hair leaving a wet streak on the wooden panel.

“We did it,” he sighs, and proudly rattles one of the jelly beans he pulls out of his pocket. The bag is intact, of course.

“We did,” you agree, and pull him up off the ground.

Suddenly you're faced with the problem of not knowing what to take off first because everything is equally soaked. It's almost as if your clothes are the cool part of your skin, plus outer layers. Finally, following your boyfriend's example, you throw your coat on the floor first, then your shoes on the doormat, and socks after.

Before you reach for the next layer of clothing, there is the sound of footsteps. You think Mingi is coming, but when he sighs, you realize it's not your tall lover.

“You guys are adorable and dedicated, but silly at the same time," says Hongjoong with crossed arms.

“But at least Yunho’s jellies will hold out until he heals,” answers Yeosang, taking off his shirt.

“When did you arrive?” you ask.

“About a minute ago. But we'll talk later. Now go take a shower before you too end up feverishly next to Yunho,” Hongjoong advises, then retreats and San steps forward. He unconcealedly runs his eyes over Yeosang's naked torso, and yours, which still has your shirt stuck to it, rather tightly, so it might even be useless.

“If you get sick, I'll be on sick duty every day. The thing is, the adorable, dedicated, silly people are just my type” he winks.

“Move over, Sanie," Wooyoung appears and nudges the other one in the side, "You promised to help hyung pack up.”

San hums and walks away, but still smiles in your direction. You all love to oblige Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and that goes for when there's an opportunity to flirt as well.

“You two are sexy, all wet,” Wooyoung admits. “If you need help with the shower, let me know. I'll be within earshot.”

“We'll consider it,” you promise. Wooyoung nods with a grin, and he also retreats to the kitchen.

You pass through the hallway, but before you can go to the bathroom, Jongho stands in front of you with a plate of jelly beans. “Here. I thought you should be the ones to give it to him. You made a greater sacrifice, and most of us stayed dry. Except for Hwa hyung, who opened the door and held the umbrella.”

“Thank you,” you say at the same time. While Yeosang takes the bowl, you press a kiss on Jongho's cheek.

When you retire to the bedroom, the scene is quite cozy. Yunho is in bed, hugging Mingi, craving jelly beans, and you offer him what he craves most, and what you fought Mother Nature for.

“We got it,” you report.

Yunho snaps his head up. The mere hope brings life to his sick features. You stand by the bed, careful not to get rainwater on it.

“Here, hyung," Yeosang hands the bowl to him in a soft whisper.

“I hope you weren’t too desperate, baby. We hurried as much as we could.”

“You're the best," says Yunho, touched, between bites. “I love you.”

“We love you too, giant baby. Very much,” you assure him.

And he smiles up at you. The mission is a complete success. Whether all that time and getting soaked was enough to put you to bed remains to be seen. In the meantime, you bask in success.

Mingi sneezes. Then he reaches under the pillow and takes out a handkerchief. “My throat may be a tiny bit scratchy.”

“Should we set up someone on sick duty for you too?” Yeosang offers readily.

“Our poor boyfriends,” you sigh, watching them. Yunho in the midst of illness, Mingi as he probably slips into a state of flux.

“I deserve it,” murmurs Mingi, looking ruefully at Yunho.

“Why do you think so?” you ask the question that has been nagging at you for a good twenty minutes.

“When we ran out of milk last week, Yunho and I went to the grocery store... I offered to make out with him in the rain. It didn't rain much, and there was no wind. Still, that's how Yunho got cold.”

"Come on," the other protests hoarsely. He sucks on a jelly bean with great enthusiasm. You wouldn't believe he can taste it. “You offered, I agreed, I could have said no, but I didn't. All in all, it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” Yeosang raises his eyebrows. “You were dying before the jelly arrived.”

"If you haven't kissed Mingi in the rain, you won't understand," he declares, then turns to Mingi. “Want a jelly, princess?

Yeosang and you leave them alone, let them romance each other in the infirmary. Barefoot, you stomp off to the bathroom. You open the door, and a thick, fragrant steam rises from the room. A pleasant warm breeze reminds you how cold you are. You hurry inside. Yeosang closes the door to keep the comforting steam from escaping.

Seonghwa is already drying his hair and got dressed. You look at him expectantly, ready to be reprimanded. But he has no such plans. He takes your face with one hand and Yeosang's with the other. “I am proud of you. Take a bath, then we can watch a movie. We made a whole list while we were stuck in traffic.”

Yeosang hums, you nod in response. Good idea. At this time of year, there's no point in doing anything other than curling up on the sofa together.

You bask in Seonghwa's soft touch until the last moment, and the knowledge that he's proud of you. It's really enjoyable to play good cop, bad cop with Hongjoong, and they don’t scold you twice. Regardless, you need to figure out a way to cheer up that boyfriend of yours who called you adorable, dedicated, and silly all at the same time. 

“So he probably caught it while kissing,” you acknowledge what you've heard by tugging your trousers down after Seonghwa has left you alone.

“Interesting.”

“And understandable. Sounds romantic.”

“Do you want to go back?” Yeosang glances up at you as he pulls towels out of the closet. The look in his eyes is willing. It embarrasses you to know that he would take a single word from you and go back with you into the pouring rain to fulfill that desire.

“I wouldn’t do it in this weather. But, for example, standing in a cool summer drizzle, refreshing after the heat. When me and my partner won’t be so likely to have a fever for a week.”

“Last summer Woo did it with someone. I think it was with Sanie, but I'm not sure. Maybe he caught Hongjoong hyung in a moment of weakness.”

“Really? Is it fashionable to kiss in the rain in our relationship?”

“A bit.” Yeosang undresses completely. 

Your hand is over the laundry basket, you've dropped the last of your clothes in it, yet you don't move. You’re looking at Yeosang. At his naked back, how rainwater is dripping from his hair, onto his delicate muscles. The line of his shoulder blades as his back narrows, ending in the lovely hips you'd hold in your hands for days. And of course you can't neglect his ass or his thighs or his whole being, because once you start looking at him, one part of him is not enough, and the whole of him is overwhelmingly wonderful.

He turns back to you. “Are you coming?”

“Sure.” You follow him into the bath. You take his face in the palm of your hand and kiss him on the lips. “Wooyoung was right.” 

“About what?”

"You're sexy when you're wet," you explain, and at the same time you probably reveal that you were just staring at him.

"He didn't just say that to me, love," he replies, pulling you close. Then he opens the water. The warm, soothing drops fall on your head and drip down your chilled skin. Like rain.

“I have an idea. Let's kiss here like it's raining.”

“Oh,” Yeosang smiles sweetly. His thumb caresses your cheek. “Okay.”

And you shower until the hot water runs out.

[magicalrocketships]

pretty much every day i just think abt small!max saying "daniel, my daniel" when he sees dan. it's with me forever!! ok that's all

Okay, this awakened something in me, and I've missed Go Small! Max. Thank you, anon!

All earlier parts can be found in this masterpost and on AO3 here.

Five times Max calls Daniel ‘my Daniel’ (and one other time)

One. 

"No," Max says politely but with zero room for negotiation. "I don't want that."

That is a plate of sandwiches that look decidedly soggy, oil softened vegetables leaking out of a thickly sliced sourdough. 

Daniel looks up at the waiter. "Could you do some sliced bread and butter instead?" he asks, moving Max's plate out from in front of him. He finds room for it on the table next to him and opens up the sandwiches, starting to scrape the vegetables out onto the plate. In hindsight, it was a bad order. He'd seen the tomatoes and thought that Max might like them. 

The waiter comes back over with two slices of bread and a pat of butter; Daniel makes yet more room on the table to butter the bread and cut it into halves, then deposits it in front of Max. He goes back to scraping the mediterranean vegetables out of the sandwich, dumps the bread on his plate, then starts to pull out the tomatoes so that they're separate from the rest of the vegetables. He offers the plate to Max, who stares at it dubiously. 

"You like tomatoes," Daniel says. 

"Hmm," Max says. 

Daniel doesn't force him. He sets the plate down and shows Max his fork in case he wants to try anything, then eats his own pesto chicken on toasted sourdough. 

Max picks at his bread and butter, then after eating a piece, he uses his fork to carefully eat two little roasted tomatoes. He clearly considers this enough vitamins and nutrients for this meal, and goes back to his bread and butter. He does, however, drink his apple juice. 

"Is the bread nice?" Daniel asks. His sandwich is decidedly mediocre. 

Max considers. "Yes," he says finally. "Thank you, my Daniel."

Something inside of Daniel's chest shifts. He's changed forever. 

"Good," he says, his voice catching. "I'm glad."

&&&

Two. 

Max hasn't wet the bed in weeks. The nightlights had finally managed to turn frequent into infrequent into barely ever. 

Barely ever isn't not ever, though. Daniel's woken up by an insistent little hand on his shoulder. "My Daniel," Max says, sniffling. 

Daniel blinks away sleep. "What's up?"

"The bed's wet," Max says. 

Daniel sits up. "That's okay, Maxy-Max," he says. "That's okay. Nobody's mad."

Max sucks in a ragged, tearful breath. 

Daniel kisses Max's flushed forehead. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

Max tucks his hand into Daniel's, sleepy and tearful, and holds on. 

&&&

Three. 

"I didn't know where you were," Max says reprovingly, once he's discovered Daniel face down on the sofa, snoring into a Pokemon cushion with the TV on low, and poked him awake. "There's no breakfast bowl."

That is a reprimand. The rule is, no TV before breakfast. TV is allowed with breakfast, but the new rule came into force last week when Max refused to eat anything because he wanted to watch Detective Pikachu through to the end even though his tummy was rumbling. So: no TV before breakfast. 

Daniel didn't go to sleep until after four, though, and he's only out here in the living room because he'd finally got bored of watching the time tick by on his sunrise alarm clock and had resigned himself to pulling an all-nighter. He'd come out here to drink coffee and watch whatever he could find on TV in the middle of the night, then had promptly passed out eight minutes into an old episode of Friends. 

"You have to turn the TV off," Max repeats. 

Daniel obliges. He still feels mostly asleep. He rubs his fists into his eyes. 

"Hmm," Max says. 

"I didn't sleep very well," Daniel says. He doesn't look at his watch but Max likes to be awake pretty early. As an adult Max likes to sleep late, but kid Max doesn't feel the same way. Consequently, Daniel's life has flipped to an early bird timetable. His body hasn't quite caught up, though, and there have always been nights where he's stared at the ceiling for far too many hours. "Might have to be careful with me today, champ." He does finger guns to try and make it cool, but he's just tired. 

Max blinks at him. "Okay, my Daniel." He turns on his heel and disappears out of the living room, before coming back in clutching Pikachu. "You can hug Pikachu," he says. There's a pause. "Can we have breakfast now?"

Daniel laughs. "Sure can," he says, wrapping an arm around Pikachu's round middle. "What are we having today? Would monsieur like a fish? An omelette?" He does his silliest French accent. It's very bad. Max laughs. He always has the exact same breakfast. Max likes cereal. Cereal, and his milk in his own special jug. He won't entertain anything else. "A croissant, Max? A fried egg? Un oeuf?"

"No, no, no," Max says. "Cereal, please."

"Coming right up, monsieur," Daniel says, and as Max pads into the kitchen in his pyjamas, Daniel's heart skips a little soft beat. 

&&&

Four. 

"Daniel, my Daniel," Max calls, barely even waiting for Daniel to get out of the car. Daniel's been into the village to get fresh bread for lunch, and he's come back with wine for him and his parents, a few bits and pieces his dad had wanted for their dinner that evening, and a new bat and ball game for if Max can be tempted out of the pool for any significant period of time. 

Daniel grabs the bags. "Maxy-Max," he calls back, finishing off with his best camel impression just to make him laugh. He wanders around to the back of the house to the pool, where his mum and dad are — predictably — in the water with Max. "Mum, Dad. Everyone present and correct, I see."

"Watch me," Max tells him, clambering out of the pool and getting water everywhere. "Look what I can do now!" 

"I'm watching," Daniel says. 

He watches Max sit down on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. He puts his hands above his head, shaped like he's going to dive, and Daniel knows what he's going to see. This is how he got taught to go into the water face first. His parents taught him and now they're teaching Max. 

Max tilts forward and forward until he's going into the water in a little seated dive. He emerges from the water, beaming, to Daniel's mum and dad clapping him, and Daniel cheering. Max swims over to the steps, and Daniel's waiting for him at the top of them. He gets a very wet and very excited hug. 

"Did you see?" Max asks. 

"I saw," Daniel says. He blinks away tears. He doesn't know why he's crying. "I saw, and you were brilliant."

"Good," Max says solidly, and follows Daniel inside, little wet footprints all the way after him. 

&&&

Five. 

Max is three. He's sleepy and full, a solid little lump in Daniel's lap. He's demanded three stories already before bed tonight, and Daniel's accommodating because in the morning this little version of Max might be gone. Daniel might get his seven year old Max back, or he might wake up to an empty bed and two missing cats, and Max having left to pick his life back up. 

Daniel kisses the top of Max's head. "This is the last story," he says, but he'll probably stretch it out until Max falls asleep right where he's sitting. There's no rush, anyway. There's nothing for either of them to do with their days. He turns the pages in their little book about kittens.

"My Daniel," Max says sleepily, a little garbled around his thumb. He sucks his thumb when he's three, and Daniel hasn't any interest in stopping him. He'll let Max have anything he finds comforting. He deserves the little kindnesses. 

"My Max," Daniel says softly. Max is falling asleep in his arms, his eyes drooping. It's time to put him to bed. "Time for sleep, my little Max. Time for bed."

Max is asleep by the time Daniel's carried him through into the bedroom. He doesn't stir as Daniel tucks him in, as he makes sure the nightlights are all turned on and that Pikachu's in easy reach. 

He stands in the doorway for a long time before he turns away. 

&&&

(And Another Time)

Daniel is so, so tired. His body feels heavy. His mum had gone with him to the doctor's yesterday, and they'd stopped at a pharmacy on the way home to pick up his new pills. She'd brought him a glass of water and a plate of crackers to have with the first dose. He'd downed them all obediently. 

They're not magic. He's not woken up this morning feeling happy again, or like his chest is more than the black, sucking hole where his heart used to be. 

He doesn't open his eyes. A tear escapes without his permission. He hates this. He hates feeling like he does right now, hates the nothingness, the weight of his body against the earth. 

"Hey, Daniel, my Daniel." It's Max, sleeping next to him for the fourth night in a row. He's big but he hasn't left. He always leaves but this time he hasn't. He's still here. He strokes Daniel's hair. "It is okay. I am here and your mum's here. We will make it all all right again. I promise, Daniel. You don't need to cry." He strokes his thumb under Daniel's eye, catching Daniel's stray tears. He wipes his thumb on the sheets then curls his hand into Daniel's. He laces their fingers together. "We've got you."

And Daniel, desperate, holds on. 

&&&

(thank you to Lin @andwegogreen for reading these as I wrote them tonight 🧡🧡🧡)

[1920sladydectective]

Hey i saw requests and had to ask, ambessa x reader for a wounded reader. I mean like a well executed plan goes to shit and Reade gets hurt much to ambessa's suprise. Passed and frustrated, ambessa traces readers old scars and stews on the new ones.

Hello my lovely! Thank you for your request! Very awesome and fun idea, I hope you like what I’ve done with it 🫶🫶🫶

I’m always happy to take them, especially with Ambessa if anyone is wondering! I shall try to get to them all.

This may not be quite what you wanted, I wrote it at half three in the morning and it’s a tad sillier than I’d intended. I’ll probably rewrite/add to it, but here it is for now!

Some mentions of blood etc - reader is hurt after all ❤️

Hurt Reader x Ambessa Drabble -

It was a shock, the warm slice sinking through your abdomen as a tall knight appeared.

This plan had been ridiculously simple and after ten years working under and loving Ambessa Medarda, you were notoriously difficult to surprise.

That being said, you were currently bleeding out as you stumbled away with the stupid bastard’s blood covering your front. You couldn’t let him live, but you did hope you didn’t die in the process.

Nearing the Noxian camp, you allowed yourself to cry out, spluttering slightly as everything blended into one.

Ambessa was discussing land division with Rictus, eagerly awaiting your return so you could retire to bed and then finally leave this back water hellhole.

Cries and clamouring had her dashing from her tent. You were there, unconscious, dragged along by shaking rookies.

The physician was already running to you, a loyal and efficient member of Ambessa’s staff, had it been anyone else her worries would have ended there.

She could tell all the blood was not yours, but it did nothing to dissuade the bile in her throat. This was impossible. This couldn’t be right. Part of her, foolish and soon to be carved out, had mistaken you for invincible. Despite the war wounds you wore as proudly as she wore her own, you were faster than her, always less risky. You were her sly fox, and the stab of fear she felt at you being caught made her snarl.

Hours seemed to drain into nothingness, her large hand stroking your serene face, muttering your favourite pet names and telling you stories. You had always hated the silence of rest, a feeling that only dissuaded with Ambessa. Her feelings were a muddle of thick, pulsing anger and desperation. Her fingers traced against the most faded of your marks, a melancholy filling her. Your story was mapped here, your journey with her visible in each gash and cut. It had seemed beautiful to her before. It still was, but as the cuts grew newer and fewer an uncharacteristic reservation filled her.

You were too precious to lose, and this had been your worst brush with death. The reason was inexcusably stupid, as Rictus had found out. A knight leaving his rotation slightly late because he was chatting up some maid, meant you’d been caught mere seconds before you would have fled. Ambessa felt hypocritical wanting to suddenly bundle you in furs and lock you in your chambers, but as she traced the crimson bandage on your midriff the plan seemed more and more plausible.

It took two days for you to wake and she never left your side. Murmuring all the while, her voice growing hoarse, Ambessa brushed your hair and ensured you stayed warm. The physician had said you would be fine and that she could benefit from some rest herself. Ambessa had nearly killed her, for some reason.

That, it seems, was what woke you.

“Do stop being stupid,” Your drug addled lips slurred, glassy eyes looking between the physician and your imposing wife, “She’s right, you look like shit,”

“Hello, Dear,” She muttered, dropping her blade and kneeling at your side.

“That was a tricky one, eh? What happened was-”

She let out a relieved sigh, kissing you tenderly on the lips, “We are not debriefing right now you fucking idiot,”

It took five months, eight hours of continual sex and a trip from Mel, but Ambessa finally seemed to mellow at the idea of you returning to her side in combat.

In the end you think it was your constant gasping and fawning at her own scars that did it.

Overreacting to your lover’s aged scars as if they were fresh was irritating apparently…

It was nice to know you were loved

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Just to Stop the Feeling

bi!Theodore Nott x m!reader; angst & fluff

summary: in the wake of his mother’s death and his father’s ever increasing expectations of him, Theodore finds love in a place he never would have expected

a/n: a year in the making and this might be the gayest thing i’ve ever written. big shout out to @suugarbabe for listening to me yap about this for weeks, the anon who requested this, and everyone who’s been supporting me the past year. here's 6.2k words of bi awakening, enjoy ♡

The Great Hall was loud, too loud if you asked Theodore. The Sytherin was sat at his house table, head propped up on one hand as his friends chattered around him. The sorting ceremony had just wrapped up which meant everyone in the Hall was catching up about their summers. Theo thought back to just a couple days ago, the oppressive silence that haunted the Nott Manor in stark contrast to just how lively and crowded it was now. His father was rarely in common spaces nowadays, thank Merlin, but that left Theo to stalk around the Manor much like the ghosts floating above him now. If only it was as interesting an existence as Sir Nicholas or even Peeves. Not even a poorly rolled cigarette in the garden brought much enjoyment to him these days.

“Theo! Are you with us mate?”

His eyes drag up to meet the inquisitive look on Enzo’s face. He hums in acknowledgement.

“We’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes.” Theo takes the cue to look around and see the group looking at him, some in amusement and some—Mattheo specifically, though he tries to hide it—with concern.

He slips on his signature lazy half smirk with minimal effort, rehearsed and perfected. “Tired from the train, what did I miss?”

Enzo perks up and launches them back into conversation, Mattheo visibly relaxing in his peripheral. Arm still supporting his head, he jokes and laughs and nods along to everyone recapping their summer breaks, feeling hollow.

The Slytherin common room wasn’t cozy in the traditional sense, with its cool lighting and excess of stone architecture, but Theo found it comforting nonetheless. He was sitting on one of the leather couches in front of the fireplace, this time only in the company of Mattheo and Draco.

Cool leather against his skin contrasted nicely with the heat of the fire, the familiar voices of his friends putting his soul at ease for the first time in months. He loosely kept up with what they were talking about, his mind simultaneously wandering to thoughts about the new term. Evidently, Draco and Mattheo were on the same wavelength as the topic shifted to Hogwarts and—much to Theo’s dismay—girls. “So Nott, got your eye on anyone this year?”

Theo rolled his head against the back of the couch to face Draco, that smirk back on his face. “Eh, hadn’t thought about it too much. I know Pansy has hers on you, Malfoy.”

The blond scoffs, “as if I wasn’t aware.”

“Like a predator on prey,” Mattheo cracks, smile evident in his voice. Theo allows himself to chuckle as Draco looks at them helplessly. Theo feels Matt’s elbow nudge at his side. “Too bad it isn’t Granger looking at him that way.”

A pillow flies past Theo’s head and smacks the boy next to him square in the face. Mattheo dramatically falls back onto the couch before erupting into laughter.

“Too bad you aren’t a beater, huh Malfoy?” Theo quips, quickly putting up his hands to potentially block another projectile pillow.

Draco just groans, “I’m going to bed.”

The first month of classes flies by fairly quickly, everyone falling into their usual rhythm. Quidditch practices a few times a week, late nights smoking in the astronomy tower and the odd party here and there. Theo is itching to get off the castle grounds.

That’s why he jumped at the opportunity to go when Enzo asked the group for company on his shopping trip that Saturday morning. Theodore loved Hogsmeade in the fall. The shops would put up festive decorations and the entire atmosphere of the small village grew extra cozy.

With a Slytherin scarf loosely draped over his shoulders and Butterbeer on the brain, he met his group of friends at the beginning of the path to Hogsmeade.

The breeze was comfortable as they walked through the village, stopping every couple of shops to peruse the new inventory. They finally make their way to the Three Broomsticks, finding a table for the group.

Theo groans as he gets voted to go up to the bar for drinks. Sitting at one of the stools is a guy in scarf showing off a badger emblem. As he gets closer, he realizes he vaguely recognizes the Hufflepuff. Theo settles himself down on the stool next to him, causing the guy to look over.

He has a quizzical expression on his face, eyes lighting up as he figures out who he’s looking at, “You’re Nott, right? I think we have a couple classes together.”

His heart thumps a little harder at his name on the boy’s lips. The boy in front of him tilts his head when Theo doesn’t respond, reminding him to give a quick nod.

The Hufflepuff’s lips tug up into a small smile as he offers up his name.

Theo blinks a couple times and stammers out something about seeing the guy around sometime before he’s speed walking back to the table, no drinks in hand.

“Whoa, who got Nott blushing?”

Theo furrows his brows together in confusion, a hand coming up to his face. And sure enough, heat was radiating off his cheeks.

“Never mind that, Theo! Where’s the butterbeer?”

Monday morning Theo is sitting in History of Magic before class starts, getting ready for an hour of boredom, when books hitting the desk with a thud catches his attention. He’s startled to see you, the Hufflepuff boy from the Three Broomsticks, standing there already looking at him.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Theo nods, feeling like an idiot. Why was this Hufflepuff boy able to completely shut off his ability to speak, let alone think?

That bright smile is back on your face as you take the seat next to him. And his heart flutters.

“So glad this is the last year of having to put up with Binns and his masterclass story telling,” he can practically feel the sarcasm dripping from your voice and finds himself cracking a smile. An actual smile, not the smirk he usually puts on.

“I know, it’s a wonder anyone manages to stay awake.”

You gesture to the travel mug in your hands, “gotta keep at least a bit of caffeine on me for emergencies. One of my muggle-born friends gave me something called an energy drink? It’s…a lot, to be quite honest.”

Theo huffs a laugh, “energy drink? You’d be better off with some espresso than whatever muggles put in those things.”

You give a contemplative nod, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before he can figure out something else to say, to keep existing in the surprising warmth of conversation with you, Binns is starting up his monotone ramble. Theo feels his heart sink as you look away from him to at least make an attempt to pay attention. He silently looks through his textbook, trying to ignore the weird sensation in his chest.

“Hey Theo, wanna come to the Astronomy Tower tonight?” Mattheo’s voice comes from behind where he’s sat in the common room the next evening after dinner.

He pulls his nose out of the book he was buried in as he thinks it over. It had been a while since he’d had a proper smoke with the lads, and he didn’t need to ask to know that’s what Mattheo had in mind. It doesn’t take long for him to set his book down on the table with a nod, “yeah, sure.”

As he turns around to face him, he sees Enzo right behind the other boy, grinning with a thumbs up. The look on his face makes Theo debate changing his mind, but he walks out of the common room with the pair anyway. 

The walk up to the Astronomy Tower is long and filled with so many stairs that Theo is very quickly reminded why he doesn’t bother coming up here as often as he thinks he’d like to. Enzo and Mattheo walk slightly in front of him, talking about something Theo doesn’t really bother to listen in on, Quidditch perhaps? How those two don’t run out of things to talk about, he’ll never know. He’s so lost in thought he barely notices the last two flights of stairs to the top and he’s suddenly hit with the cool air of early fall. He’s also suddenly aware that Mattheo and Enzo are no longer talking, but instead looking at him. He blinks.

“Huh?”

“Told ya he’s just been on a different planet lately,” Enzo quips, nudging Mattheo with his elbow. Mattheo nods in agreement but doesn’t comment on it, instead repeating his question, “I said do ya got your own smokes or are you taking one off me? Cause if you are, we’re fucked. I’m out.”

Theo isn’t surprised in the slightest, “is that why you invited me? Free cigs?” Nonetheless, he pulls a pack out of his pocket and holds it out for him.

Matt grins as he swipes one, “nah, but it doesn’t hurt. You’ve always got nicer ones than me.” Enzo immediately scoffs.

“It’s cause you’re broke Matty—”

“Shut up, no I’m not!”

“Then explain why you keep mooching off of me—” they continue to bicker before Theo cuts them off. “Matt, got a light?” 

Mattheo shuts up and holds out a lighter, flicking it to life with practiced ease. Enzo swoops in with his joint before Theo can even pull a cigarette out of his pack, rolling his eyes at his friend. Mattheo raises an eyebrow quizzically, “weed? Seriously?”

Enzo just shrugs nonchalantly, cocky little smirk on his face. “Not my fault neither of you know how to have fun—hold on, is that my fucking lighter?!” Mattheo gives him a shrug, moving it away from where Enzo’s leaning in to get a better look. 

Theo sighs, “I think he meant on a school night—”

“Who are you? My mum? Didn’t think you cared about actually attending lessons, Teddy—” Theo immediately scowls at the nickname, making Enzo raise his hands in surrender, smirk still planted on his face. Merlin, he could be insufferable.

Theo returns the shrug, trying to play it off, “just figured with OWLs coming up—”

He’s cut off once again, this time by Mattheo, “don’t tell me, you wanna make sure you don’t miss sitting by that Hufflepuff.” Damn his ability to see straight through him. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you two sitting together yesterday in Binns’ class.”

“Well, I didn’t…” Enzo interjects but is ignored by Mattheo other than an exasperated eye roll.

“You seemed pretty chatty; wasn’t that the same guy at the Three Broomsticks last Saturday?”

Theo quickly lights the cigarette on Mattheo’s still flickering flame and shoves it between his lips. He receives an unimpressed look at his attempt to avoid the question, but to his credit, Matt refrains from pressing further. The same cannot be said for Enzo.

“So what, you’re fraternizing with Hufflepuffs now, are ya mate? Never thought I’d see the day—” his teasing is abruptly ended by Mattheo whacking him upside the head.

Mattheo lights his own cigarette before putting the lighter away, taking a deep drag from it. There’s a beat of silence between them. A gentle breeze passes through the tower as Theo looks out at the Scottish Highlands bathed in the light of the moon.

“He’s just…nice, I guess. Doesn’t seem to mind I’m a Slytherin,” Theo finally answers, releasing a stream of smoke.

Enzo chuckles, rubbing the back of his head where he was whacked. “Fair enough. I feel like usually only girls that want a little fun are willing to break that barrier.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively as he takes a drag as well. Mattheo snorts with a nod. “At least it's not a Gryffindor.” Theo’s nose subconsciously scrunches.

“Yeah, remember that Gryffindor Enz was all over end of last term because word was going around he had a good pot stash?” Now it’s Mattheo getting shoved, but he barely reacts besides a huff of a laugh. 

“Didn’t even have the goods,” Enzo pouts petulantly, “wasted a whole 2 weeks for nothing.”

“I think you’ll live, mate.”

Theo leans back against the railing, cigarette between his lips as he watches his best mates as their bickering shifts into them laughing and joking like it always does. He adds a couple quips here and there, mind wandering to the Hufflepuff boy periodically as the cigarette slowly dwindles. Once it’s reached the end of its life, he snuffs it out, pushing himself off the floor where they’d ended up sitting for the past hour. “I think I’m heading back down to the dorms, it’s getting late.”

Mattheo shares a look with Enzo. With a smirk, Enzo wolf whistles, “gotta get your beauty sleep for your little badger, eh Nott?”

Theo just flips him the middle finger as he crosses the tower to the first of many, many stairs. As his descending footsteps echo through the stairwell, Enzo turns to Mattheo, “poor fucker is whipped.”

Mattheo nods, “and down right oblivious…how many galleons are we betting for how long it takes him to figure it out?”

There’s a mischievous smirk on the other boy’s face. “How much you got?”

The next morning, Theo is once again startled by the Hufflepuff boy dropping his books on the table with that same dramatic thud. If Theo didn’t know any better, he would start to think it was intentionally to get his attention. This time, he speaks first.

“Morning.” 

There’s that bright smile again and Theo’s chest feels…odd.

“Morning!” you chirp as you slide into the seat. “I took your advice and got some espresso, much better than that muggle concoction. Figured since it was your suggestion, I’d bring you some. Mum got some beans from a cafe in London when I wrote her about it.”

Once again a warm sensation floods Theo as a second mug is set on the table and slid his direction. He carefully picks it up and takes off the lid, finding a double shot inside. It’s still hot from what he assumes is a temperature charm on the mug and the warm sensation in his chest gets stronger.

He raises the cup to his nose, inhaling the comforting aroma of coffee before taking a sip. It’s not quite the taste of home, but it’s close. He nods appreciatively. 

Then before he can stop himself he’s making an offer, accent a hint thicker than he typically tries to control, “I’ll have to make you a cup the way I had growing up sometime. This is good though.”

Theo doesn’t have time to backtrack or change his mind before your smile is turning softer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

To hide the flushing of his cheeks, he quickly downs the rest of the liquid and hands the mug back. For maybe the first time ever he’s glad Binns decides now is the perfect time to begin the monotonous period. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you put the mug back in your bag, soft smile still on your face. And maybe Theo doesn’t hate this class as much as he thought he did.

Over the following weeks, Theodore does the unthinkable: he looks forward to bloody History of Magic, just for the opportunity to chat with you before class. 

His friends share looks at breakfast as he starts leaving earlier and earlier each Monday and Wednesday, hoping to get even just a bit of extra time with you. Because he’s too nervous to ask you to hang out. And he cannot for the life of him figure out why. 

He’s Theodore Nott. The stoic, level headed and lusted after Slytherin. Right? He makes people nervous. He flusters pretty girls. So what the bloody hell is going on? 

He’s never, not once in his 5 years at Hogwarts, ever considered the possibility that someone could do this to him. Let alone a stupid, pretty Hufflepuff boy with a gentle, excited smile that’s way too eager to mingle with a snake. But somewhere in his gut Theo knows he’d be devastated if the other boy stopped. 

And that terrifies him.

One morning after several weeks of sitting together, you once again drop your books onto the desk with the theatrics Theo’s come to expect from you. He subconsciously finds himself perking up at the sound just before you start chattering away, something he’s also grown almost fond of. He likes that you tend to fill the space he’d otherwise find awkward or tedious in conversation, seemingly undeterred by his often quiet nature. And he’s more than happy to just listen to you and bask in your welcoming presence. 

This time you’re talking about the History of Magic exam coming up in a couple weeks and your lack of a study partner, something that instantaneously catches Theo’s attention. 

“Yeah, my usual study buddy bailed on me, the nerve,” you laugh. “So now I’m on the hunt for a new one…” 

Theo’s heart rate picks up as you trail off, there’s no way you’re going to say what he’s hoping you will. Right? There’s no way he’s that lucky. Hell, there’s no way someone like you would want to be around him outside sitting next to each other in the worst class offered at Hogwarts. He’s pretty sure you have less controversial friends to ask than a brooding Slytherin whose best mate is the son of Voldemort, for fucks sake—

His internal pity party is cut short by you looking at him almost… nervously?

“Would you maybe be free to, I dunno, study together some time next week? It’s cool if you’re not, I just thought—well, I’m not sure what I thought—other than that I would offer,” your question starts to shift into a ramble and your cheeks flush as you seem to realize it. Meanwhile, Theo’s heart has stopped and his breath catches in his throat. He has to hold himself back from shouting a thrilled “Yes!”

He clears his throat, desperately clinging to his composure. “Yeah, sure, I could make that work. When did you have in mind?”

Theo feels nearly sick with nerves as he sits at the Central Hall fountain outside of the library waiting for you. He was at least 15 minutes early, mostly because Enzo said he would hex him if he kept pacing around the dorm room like he had been for the prior half hour. His foot taps anxiously in a way he is not used to. He's no stranger to stress, but this is on a different level. All he's going to be doing is go over the most boring aspects of wizarding history with you for a couple hours and here he is, worried he's going to end up in the Hospital Wing with heart palpitations. He takes a deep, shaky breath as he looks up at the snoring dragon mural above the library. Just breathe you idiot!

“Hey Theo, sorry I'm late. My dormmate would not shut up.” He hears your voice before he sees you, his head turning to follow the sound. And he tries to keep the surprise off his face at hearing you call him Theo instead of Nott like you had been since that afternoon in the Three Broomsticks. “You ready for the most exciting next couple hours of your life?” Oh, and what he wouldn't do to see that teasing little grin on your face more—

“Ready,” he stands from the fountain bench, following behind you through the heavy wooden doors of the library.

He walks half a step behind you as you weave your way through the tables and shelves, finding a relatively remote spot in the already quiet space. For maybe the first time in—your friendship? Theo hopes that's what you two are at least—the entire time he's known you, your set your books down without the slam.

You must have noticed the look he was giving you because you smirk. “I don't just go throwing books when you're not around. And close your jaw, you'll catch lacewing flies.”

Theo lightly bites on his lip as he sits next to you at the table, your shoulders almost touching. You flip the massive textbook open and pull a couple quills and parchment from your bag as you settle in to go over the material.

There’s a feeling of familiarity with you that Theo wasn’t anticipating. Conversation comes more naturally than when he’s spoken with you before class and he realizes he really, really likes spending time with you. There’s no bickering like there is with Matt and Enzo, no snarky comments thrown around for laughs. It’s peaceful and warm. 

He feels like that around you a lot, he realizes, warm. Comfortable. His arm brushes against yours.

Theo and you spend the next couple hours working through the exam material, interspersed with getting to know each other. He listens to you ramble about your favorite classes this term, your friends—anything you’re willing to tell him, he wants to drink it all in.

Neither of you seem to notice how close you’ve gotten to each other until he can feel your breath on his face and that warmth that seems to radiate off of you. Then, you’re getting closer.

There in the back of the library, Theo’s world comes to a standstill as you gently press your lips against his, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. It takes him a couple seconds to regain his senses before moving his lips back against yours, losing himself in the kiss. 

He notices you taste like earl grey which blends with the woody scent of your cologne in an intoxicating mixture. Much too soon for his liking you’re pulling back and he has to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. 

His eyes flutter open to find you haven’t gone far. In the silence he thinks about how pretty your eyes are and maybe—no, definitely—that’s his new favorite color.

“Was that okay?” your voice is just above a whisper.

Theo just leans forward and recaptures your lips in another kiss. First his mind swirls with this is what kissing is supposed to feel like. He’s dumbfounded that it really can feel like fireworks and it’s not just some sappy bullshit made for the romance novels Pansy and Daphne read.

Then it all comes crashing down.

The next thing he feels is dread. Overwhelming, overpowering dread. He can’t quite place why, but it’s there. And suddenly he’s pulling away from your lips like he’s been burned.

He sees the shock on your face, but before he starts to apologize or explain, his father’s voice is itching in the back of his mind. He steps back.

Your voice saying his name is muffled by the ringing in his ears and your concerned expression is taken over by that all too familiar disappointed look in his father’s eyes. He runs away, feeling more like a coward than he’s ever felt in his life. 

And the worst part is he knows he’s leaving you alone, confused and hurt. But he does it anyway.

After wandering the corridors of the castle for the better part of 10 minutes, lost in thought, he finds himself in front of the music room. Like his body instinctively knew where he needed to be. He pushes the door open, relieved to find it empty. The wooden stairs creak as he walks up. He sits on the rug by the piano, hugging his knees to his chest.

Theo is alone in the music room not 20 minutes before Mattheo finds him. A bloodhound that boy. Or maybe he just knows Theo too well. 

“Your little badger sent me.” Mattheo eases down onto the rug next to him, close enough for his knee to lightly graze Theo’s thigh. “He was freaking out like the world was ending or he kicked your cat or something. Didn’t know where to find you, but he did find Berk and I in the Astronomy tower. So I said I’d take care of it, you’re welcome.”

Theo just hums in acknowledgment.

“So…did he actually kick your cat or what?”

Theo shakes his head.

“Well it must have been pretty bad since you came here. Haven’t seen you hiding out here since, well—” his mum died. Mattheo doesn’t have to finish his sentence, they both know.

A long breath he didn’t realize he was holding breaks out in a sigh as his eyes shut. The soft enchanted piano music is the only sound for a moment as he wills away the emotions threatening to surface. “I don’t know, maybe the world is ending.”

A couple more beats of quiet. “Wanna talk about it?” He knows deep down it’s a question Matt will respect the answer to. And he briefly debates turning him down, but something compels him to slowly nod.

“He—we kissed.”

“Was it bad?”

“No.”

Mattheo nods as he considers the response he was given. “So the problem was that it was good?”

“Yes? No? Maybe?”

“That’s kinda dodging the question, mate.”

Theo groans, “I don’t know, okay?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I just— cazzo! This is wrong, isn’t it? Feeling like this?”

“Theo—”

“I can’t feel this way for another guy. My father would disown me and it’d ruin my life. I’m supposed to marry a pureblood witch and produce an heir and—”

Before Theo has time to stop him or even process what’s happening, Mattheo is grabbing him by the face and pressing their lips together, and that same fluttering sensation is back. It’s not as strong and thrilling as kissing you, Theo’s not sure that’s even replicable, but it still feels nice in a way none of his previous kisses have been. Where he was going through the motions for some reason even he didn’t understand. But no, once again he can understand why people would want to do this.

Then as quick as he was pulled in, his best friend is pulling away, silently observing him for a moment.

“Did the world end?” 

“…No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

They sit staring at each other as Theo’s brain struggles to formulate a response. 

“Matty, I—” he hesitates like this is going to be what destroys their friendship, “I don’t think I’m…straight.”

“I didn’t think you were.” 

And something about the way he says it makes Theo feel better. Like he’s not being judged or ridiculed for feeling this way. Like it’s something natural. A no-brainer, boring fact of life. Theo thinks he might cry. 

Instead he leans forward and connects their lips again, just briefly. And part of him knows Mattheo can feel the underlying sadness and fear in it. But when they pull apart once again, neither of them comment on it. A weight feels like it's been lifted off him.

“I think,” Theo pauses as he debates speaking about this out loud for the first time, like it will make it real. “I think I haven’t really felt like myself since my mum...y'know?” He says it like it’s a question, but they both know the truth. “I know it’s been 2 years, I should be fine. But I’m not.”

Mattheo, who had been quietly listening, speaks. “I don’t know Theo…I’ve barely heard you talk about her since you came back to school third year. Have you talked about it to anyone? Hell, have you let yourself grieve?”

“I…I don’t know how. My father stopped mentioning her after the funeral and—he barely acknowledged she was even gone.” He pulls his knees back up to his chest. “I miss her.”

He feels the comforting warmth of Matt’s hand on his shoulder blade. And the gentle touch of his thumb across his cheek, wiping a tear away is the first indication that he’s started to cry. He quickly sniffles in an attempt to stop the tears, but it doesn't work. If anything, it just makes them fall faster. He tucks his head down, forehead against his knees. Mattheo's hand gently rubs his back as they sit in silence as he cries. He's grateful Matt doesn't try to help by speaking, the gentle piano filling his ears like a warm hug after being lost in the cold for days with no reprieve.

The silent sobs eventually slow, his body no longer shaking from the force of them. And weirdly, he feels better. He’s spent his whole life being told that men don’t cry, especially pureblood wizards of their status, so when the weight comes off his chest he’s shocked at how easy it is to just breathe. 

He pulls his head up to look at Matt, who isn’t looking directly at him but keeps his hand on Theo’s back. A soft murmured, “thanks,” passes his lips and causes the curly haired boy to return his attention to him. Mattheo doesn’t comment on how red and tear-stained his eyes are, much to Theo’s relief. 

“You good, mate?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Mattheo hesitates before speaking again, “you don’t have to listen to me, cause what do I know, but I think you should talk to him.” Theo thinks back to you, how lost and hurt you looked when he ran from the library and he sighs. 

“When did you get so wise?”

Mattheo shrugs, “we’ve all had to grow up pretty fast…you’re my best mate Theo. It sucks seeing you like this, y'know?” He lightly nudges Theo’s shoulder, “kinda ruins the vibe.”

Theo can’t help but chuckle, “you’re an idiot.”

“And here I thought I was wise.”

“I was wrong, you’re fully a dumbass.”

“Nah, that’s Enz. But seriously, talk to him. We’re all tired of you pretending this isn’t something you want, whether you realize it or not.”

Theodore reluctantly nods, “fine. Fine, you’re right. I think I like my, what did you call him? Little badger?”

Mattheo grins and shifts away from Theo, looking a bit too happy for a man that just watched his friend cry over a crush.

“What are you so cheery about?” Theo raises an eyebrow as Mattheo gets up to return to the Astronomy Tower.

Mattheo throws a smirk over his shoulder as he lingers at the top of the stairs, “Enzo owes me a hundred galleons.”

“Wait! You two idioti bet on this?!”

Despite feeling somewhat better after his talk with Matt, Theo avoids you for the rest of the week. Come Wednesday morning, he’s sliding into the seat next to Mattheo in History of Magic, ignoring Enzo’s annoyed “Hey!” in protest and Mattheo’s side-eye.

He doesn’t turn around to see the disappointed look on your face as your books softly thunk on the desk behind him where you two usually sat. But he doesn’t miss the lack of usual flair the sound has. His heart aches.

“Riddle said you’d be in here.”

Your voice breaks through Theodore’s thoughts, pulling his eyes toward you walking up the steps and over to him.

He'd been finding himself coming back to the music room over and over again since he started avoiding you. He wasn't entirely sure why, maybe he just wanted to stop the dull ache of loneliness in the absence of you. He pushes the thought out of his mind.

You settle down on the rug next to him, jarringly similar to the position he'd been in with Mattheo a week ago. Only you were further away, and while he couldn't blame you, he hated it.

“Sorry for kissing you so suddenly, I just—I’d been wanting to for like a month and I guess I was hoping you wanted it too. I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

He quickly shakes his head, “no, don’t apologize, it was—I liked it. I’m sorry for running off like that. I think I got…overwhelmed. I didn’t exactly know I was, y’know, into guys before…you.” He forces it out despite his embarrassment, cheeks a light shade of pink.

You look at him with a small, somewhat sad smile, “it’s fine. Kinda reminds me of that day we properly met in Hogsmeade. You ran then too.” You pause briefly before adding, “and don’t worry about it, this is new for me too.”

Theo flushes more intensely at the memory as you turn your head to look around the music room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before. Riddle had to give me directions...Why here?”

His mouth goes dry as he stares at you. “My, uh, my mum used to play the piano. She tried to teach me, but I couldn’t fully get it before…” he trails off for a moment before pushing past it, “I come here to feel close to her.”

A look of realization passes over your face, “oh, I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t really like to talk about it.”

A hesitant hand reaches out to rest on his knee. He didn’t even realize he’d relaxed his legs down from his chest. 

“We don’t have to talk about it, Teddy—”

He gasps at the nickname, soft and filled with raw emotion. “I want to.”

“She was… the only person I felt truly got me, before Mattheo at least. And she uh, she used to call me Teddy. So since she—” he hesitates, the finality of it all hitting him at once like it’s the first time he heard the news all over again, “since she died, I haven’t let anyone call me that.”

He sees the way your eyes soften further, but it’s not from pity, like he’d come to expect from the topic, no, it’s deeper than that. It’s empathy. “I didn’t know,” your voice is quiet, like you’re about to apologize, but truthfully that’s the last thing he wants. So he keeps speaking.

“She would have loved you.” His hand shifts to rest over yours, still on his leg. “She would have loved how…happy you make me. So, I want you to call me Teddy, please.” It comes out a bit more desperate than he intended, but when did anything ever go as planned when it came to you?

But you don’t run. You don’t look at him in disgust for showing emotion. You just nod with a soft, “okay Teddy.”

And god, that fluttering sensation is back. A small smile tugs on his lips; before he knows it he’s leaning forward, needing to be closer, as close as you’ll possibly let him. And this time, without any guilt or shame or fear, he kisses you.

And he feels like he’s drowning. Drowning in your lips, in your scent, in you. Like water filling his lungs, it burns so sweet. Surrender to the unknown, letting his lingering heartache and worries about his father’s expectations go until all that’s left is you.

It’s pure bliss. 

As your lips move together in sync, his body heats up and he finds himself craving more. He’s just received a taste, but he can already tell he’s going to be insatiable; the need to devour you, to become one with your very essence, is overwhelming. But he doesn’t run away. He pushes deeper. 

He feels your hand cupping his face, almost to steady yourself from falling over as his tongue brushes against your lips, begging, pleading for mercy. Like he’ll fall apart if you don’t let him explore every inch of you. Your lips part. 

Tongues dancing together, he pushes you down until your back hits the rug, his torso hovering over yours as his hands on either side of you hold him up. Your fingers caress his cheek, touch featherlight. 

The kiss lasts until neither of you can breathe, parting only to gasp and pant, inches from each other’s face. You suddenly laugh, a sweet sound that rivals the room’s quiet piano in its beauty.

“You’re still here,” your eyes search his, like you’re trying to find doubt in them, but there is none. He wants to kiss you like that for the rest of his life.

“I don’t think I’m scared anymore.”

Your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him back into another kiss catches him off guard, but he melts into it like his body was made to meld with yours. It’s soft and sweet and feels like home.

The next morning at breakfast, you’re sitting next to him like you belong at the Slytherin table, at his side and getting acquainted with his friends. Enzo’s in the middle of asking you for details on which Hufflepuffs have the best weed when Draco comes over and sits down, an apprehensive look on his face. “I suppose this is something you just expect us to get used to?” 

“Yes.” It’s Mattheo who speaks, grabbing a bit of toast off Draco’s plate and taking a bite. “He makes Theo happy, he’s one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

Enzo pipes up from beside him, “I’ll do anything to never have to listen to Theo hopelessly pine like that ever again.”

Draco huffs and as Theo’s about to say something, he hears you laugh softly next to him as your hand gently squeezes his thigh. “Just gonna have to live with some yellow brightening your mornings, Malfoy.” The other two boys snicker at the defeated look on Draco’s face and start to tease him that he’s just jealous Nott grew a pair and managed to ask someone out. But Theo barely notices.

He presses a kiss to your temple, heart fluttering as you grin up at him and for the first time in a long time, he’s happy.

[daisymbin]

Hii!! I found out your account and fell in love with it!! You're insanely talented, your writing is amazing 💗 Could I request a suggestive fic with jeonghan and female reader with prompts 14 and 24? Thank you soo much!🫶

omg thank you!!! I'm so glad you enjoyed my works 🥹 & yes! of course you can 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

suggestive prompt #14: "you've been staring at my lips for the past five minutes." +

suggestive prompt #24: "you know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"

jeonghan liked to think he had a lot of patience. he could handle long practice days, tease his members for hours without losing his cool, and charm his way out of just about any situation. but this—this—was testing him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

you were sitting next to him in the quiet corner of a book cafe, sipping your drink and occasionally glancing down to read your book. nothing out of the ordinary.

except for the fact that you’d been staring at his lips.

at first, he thought he was imagining it. but five minutes in, with the same pattern repeating—your eyes flickering up to his face, lingering just long enough to make his pulse quicken, and then darting away—he knew it wasn’t in his head.

he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“you’ve been staring at my lips for the past five minutes,” he said suddenly, his voice light but edged with something unspoken.

your eyes snapped up to his, wide with surprise, and he didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed.

“i have not,” you protested, though your voice wavered just enough to make him smirk.

“oh, you definitely have.” he leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the table, closing the distance between you just enough to make you squirm. “don’t lie to me.”

you looked away, fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater. “you’re imagining things.”

“am i?” his tone was teasing, but his heart was pounding in his chest. he wasn’t sure why your gaze had him feeling so on edge, why the way you looked at him made his skin tingle.

you didn’t answer, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing further.

“you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” his voice dropped slightly, enough to make you glance at him again, your expression caught between nervous and intrigued.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, your tone defensive but your eyes betraying you.

“you’re messing with me,” he accused, though there was no heat behind his words. “you’ve been doing it all day—giving me these little looks, acting all innocent like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his smirk growing.

“it’s working, by the way,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

you blinked, caught off guard. “what is?”

he tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he was just beginning to piece together.

“making me think about it,” he admitted, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “about you.”

your breath hitched, just barely, but he noticed.

“jeonghan,” you started, but he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“just tell me one thing,” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “do you want me to kiss you as much as i want to kiss you right now?”

your eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought you might pull away, might brush it off with a laugh or a teasing comment. but instead, you stayed frozen, your lips parting slightly, like you were trying to find the right words.

he didn’t give you the chance to respond.

“because if you do,” he continued, his gaze fixed on yours, “all you have to do is ask, angel.”

the space between you felt smaller than ever, the air charged with a tension he didn’t know how to describe.

you swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “and if i don’t?��

his lips curled into a grin, one that was equal parts playful and confident.

“then i guess i’ll have to wait,” he said, leaning back just enough to leave you wanting more.

the disappointment in your eyes was fleeting, but he caught it, and it sent a thrill through him as a smirk makes its way up to his face.

“do you want to kiss me, too?” jeonghan asked again, but this time, his voice was lower, more earnest, and the teasing was gone.

“you’re so cocky,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts.

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, leaning his chin on his hand against the small table as he watched you with a satisfied expression.

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and he saw the moment you made your decision.

“hannie,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the flush in your cheeks.

"hm?"

"kiss me,"

and that was all it took for him to close the remaining distance, his lips brushing against yours in a way that was both teasing and deliberate. the first kiss was slow, testing the waters, but the second—when you grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer—was anything but.

his hands found your waist, tugging you into his lap with a smoothness that made you gasp against his mouth. your fingers tangled in his hair, and he couldn’t help the low growl that escaped his throat when you tugged, just slightly.

“you’re such a tease,” you muttered breathlessly between kisses as jeonghan's hands roam your thighs.

he grinned, pulling back just enough to look at you, his lips red and swollen. “me? you’ve been staring at my lips all day, and i’m the tease?”

"I can't stand you—"

“and yet, you’re still here, on my lap now no less.” he murmured, his voice softer now, his hands tracing lazy circles on your hips.

you didn’t have a response to that, but you didn’t need one. instead, you leaned in again, capturing his lips in a kiss that felt like everything you couldn’t say out loud.

jeonghan melted into it, his control slipping entirely as he lost himself in the way you felt against him, the way your hands gripped his shoulders like you didn’t want to let go.

you weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, caught in a web of feeling, of wanting, of something so much more than just friendship. but when you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, your forehead resting against his, jeonghan’s smile was soft, tender.

"that was nice," you whispered, though your voice wavered with uncertainty.

"yeah," he agreed, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. "it’s nice... but i think we both know this isn’t just a kiss between friends anymore. friends don't kiss each other like that."

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

FIRST

CHAPTER TWO: DINER

synopsis: dinner with the Skywalker family becomes tense when Anakin's lingering glances and flirtatious comments about you blur the lines, leading to a drunken performance that upsets Padmé. What should have been simple becomes dangerously complicated.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, mild flirting in front of his wife

words: 1.6k

a/n: hello there, I am really happy with your receptiveness to this idea, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. I'll take this opportunity to let you know that there will be some hotter things happening, but we'll go through a little slow burn along the way (but not so slow, lol)… thanks again, and happy reading ;)

CHAPTER TWO: DINER

The dinner had been strange. You were already on edge, meeting the entire Skywalker family for the first time while keeping up the fragile lie of being Luke’s girlfriend. Lying wasn’t your strong suit, you had agreed that Luke would answer any relationship questions to not cause any suspicion. You kept the stories simple, only a date of the start of dating or a place, which you two already have gone, fearing you’d trip over more elaborate details.

Luke being late only made things worse. You tried to keep your nerves in check, smoothing invisible wrinkles in your light blue summer dress—a simple design that, to your surprise, drew a lingering glance from Anakin. You met his eyes and quickly looked away, unsure why his gaze left your skin tingling.

The awkward silence stretched until Padmé’s gentle voice broke it. “You must be Luke’s girlfriend. I’m glad to finally meet you,” she said with a polite smile, though her eyes seemed distant, the warmth not quite reaching them.

Anakin added, voice laced with playful sarcasm, “Though Luke didn’t mention you existed until two days ago.” Padmé elbowed her husband. “Hey,” he murmured, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

Padmé's soft chuckle felt more like a well-rehearsed mask than genuine amusement. “Ignore him, dear. Let’s sit at the table while we wait for the kids.” Her suggestion carried a hint of formality—like an actress on a stage, maintaining appearances.

You followed them, feeling like an outsider intruding on an unspoken drama. The dining table, set for six, had two chairs on either side, with Anakin taking one end and Padmé the other. A trivial detail, but one that made your brows knit. Twenty-five years of marriage, yet they chose to sit so far apart?

Anakin’s eyes locked onto you, his intense blue gaze both assessing and amused. A faint, almost secretive smile played at the corner of his lips. “So, tell us…” he began, his voice deep and inviting, yet sharp as a blade. “You made the first move, huh? ‘Cause, let’s face it, Luke doesn’t have an ounce of attitude.”

Padmé’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly, her eyes darting toward her husband, but she said nothing.

“What, dear?” Anakin continued, tone casual but with a teasing edge. “We both know our son didn’t even have the guts to say his order was wrong. It was always Leia who did it for him.” His eyes flicked back to you, glimmering with something between curiosity and mischief. “Let alone asking a pretty girl out…”

Heat flushed your cheeks. It was a throwaway comment, surely not meant seriously, yet the word “pretty” lingered, stirring a whirlwind in your chest.

Padmé’s spoon clinked softly against her plate, her gaze fixed downward. He shrugged, an air of indifference cloaking him. Yet, when he looked back at you, there was an intensity—a fleeting moment where his mask slipped. You couldn’t tell if it was defiance, regret, or something else entirely.

The charged tension between you and Anakin dissolved like mist with the arrival of Leia and her boyfriend. Padmé's face softened, a genuine smile breaking through her composed exterior as she hugged her daughter. For a moment, the warmth felt real, unforced.

Anakin’s voice, however, sliced through the atmosphere, sharp and bitter. “Ah, still you, Han. I was hoping Leia’s taste might have improved now that her brain is fully developed.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, and he made no effort to hide the disdain etched in every word.

Leia shot her father a glare, but Han’s smug grin didn’t falter. He extended a hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Always a pleasure, father-in-law.” The greeting oozed sarcasm, a barely veiled challenge.

Anakin’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as he gripped Han’s hand, his knuckles white. The firm shake—a trick he’d perfected in the army—conveyed all the contempt he couldn’t say out loud. Han’s smirk faltered for a split second, his fingers flexing as he pulled his hand back. He masked the pain well, but you caught the flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

“Where’s the boy?” Han muttered, shaking out his hand subtly, scanning the room for Luke.

“Here. Sorry I’m late.” Luke’s voice broke the tension as he slid into the seat beside you. Relief flooded through your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tightly wound you’d been until his familiar presence settled next to you.

“I almost thought I’d have to keep your girlfriend entertained while you were gone.” Anakin’s voice, soft yet edged, drew your gaze. His smile seemed innocent, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed something else—a quiet, knowing challenge.

Your heart stuttered. There was something about the way he looked at you, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through your façade. Like he knew exactly how he unsettled you, and took a quiet pleasure in pushing just enough to watch your reaction. You glanced away, trying to steady your breathing.

Padmé’s polite voice broke the silence, a thin thread of calm against the undercurrent of tension. “Now that we’re all here, shall we have dinner served?”

You forced a smile, nodding, but your mind was elsewhere. You had expected dinner to be calm. A sweet mistake, you realized too late.

As the courses were served, the conversation flowed naturally, wine glasses refilling with a quiet, unnoticed regularity. Leia shared news about college and her efforts to establish a student league. Luke chimed in about his progress in his engineering internship, and Padmé’s pride shone through her warm, attentive smiles. She spoke about her projects in the Senate, her tone composed and confident—a stark contrast to the simmering tension in her eyes whenever Anakin refilled his glass.

Han joined in, detailing his venture with Lando Calrissian. You listened, suspicion tingling at the back of your mind. Something about his elaborate plan didn’t sit right; it sounded too slick, too legally ambiguous. You said nothing, sipping your wine, letting the conversation wash over you. Anakin noticed your quietness, his piercing gaze lingering on you more often than it should.

“Oh, please, let your girlfriend talk a little, Luke… indulge us with your voice, dear,” Anakin drawled, his voice already hoarse and slurred from the alcohol. His eyes, sharp even through the haze of whiskey, locked onto yours. “What’s your major again?”

You swallowed hard under his intense stare, the heat rising to your cheeks. A sip of wine helped steady your nerves. You answered softly at first, but as the alcohol worked its magic, your voice gained confidence, words flowing more freely.

“Tell me more, dear,” Anakin urged, leaning forward, chin resting on his hand, eyes fixed on you as though you were the only person in the room. It was intoxicating—the way his attention pinned you under its weight. You knew it was the drink talking, but it still sent shivers down your spine.

He kept you in his focus, each question drawing you in deeper. But when his questions drifted to teasing—like what you wore to work—Padmé intervened, a strained smile barely concealing her frustration. She ordered dessert, trying to regain control of the evening.

The fragile calm didn’t last. Anakin, more energized with each drink, pushed back from the table and grabbed a microphone from the small stage in the dining room.

Leia and Luke exchanged worried glances. Padmé’s eyes widened in alarm. “What is he doing?” you whispered to Luke, but he just shook his head, jaw clenched.

Anakin’s voice, thick with whiskey, echoed through the room. “Feel my heat taking you higher, burn with me, heaven’s on fire!” He sang with an intensity that made the room shrink around you. His voice, rough yet commanding, filled every corner of the space. Padmé rubbed her temples, clearly embarrassed, but Anakin didn’t care.

“Come on, Padmé, don’t be boring. You loved this one…” His eyes flashed with a wild, rebellious light. “Paint the sky with desire, angel, fly—heaven’s on fire.”

You watched, heart pounding, as he prowled the stage, the lyrics rolling off his tongue like a promise. It was wrong—so wrong. The family’s discomfort was palpable. Yet, before you knew it, your head was nodding gently to the rhythm, drawn in by the raw magnetism he exuded.

Anakin noticed. His gaze locked onto you, a slow, dangerous smile playing at his lips. “I got a fever raging in my heart, you make me shiver and shake.”

The world narrowed to the space between you. The intensity of his stare sent heat flooding through your veins, your breath catching in your throat. How could a man be so intoxicating?

“Baby, don’t stop, take it to the top, eat it like a piece of cake.”

Your cheeks burned. It felt like a private serenade, a message only for you, even with everyone watching. You knew it was reckless, dangerous even, but in that moment, you were caught in the undertow, unable to look away.

Padmé’s voice cut through the haze. “That’s enough, Anakin,” she snapped, the sharpness of her tone slicing through the air. Leia and Luke exchanged uneasy glances, tension radiating between them.

Anakin ignored her, eyes still locked on you. “I’m getting closer, baby, hear me breathe. You know the way to give me what I need.” The words felt like a confession, a challenge, an invitation.

Padmé stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed,” she announced, her voice brittle. She walked out without another word. Leia and Han followed, the air thick with unspoken conflict.

Luke touched your arm, guiding you toward the exit. You stumbled slightly, your pulse still racing, Anakin’s voice lingering like a phantom touch. As you left the room, you could still hear him humming, his presence a storm you knew you couldn’t outrun.

[lisacameron99]

Second (JJ x reader) (outer banks)

warning: angst, fighting, fluff, fluffy ending, feelings of insecurity, nakedness but no sex, illusions to sex

“I’m late, I know I’m late,” JJ said, rushing into the house. You stayed silent. There wasn’t much to say. “You’re soaked… did you walk?”

“Yeah, JJ. I didn’t want to stay on The Cut all night.” You deadpanned.

“Why didn’t you call somebody?”

“I did JJ! I called you! Pope! Kie! Johnny! Even Sarah. But nobody answered. Too busy helping John B find dad!”

“… Y/N…” JJ said, guilt swimming in his eyes.

“I mean, God, JJ. I don’t think I asked a lot when I asked you to pick me up.” JJ swallowed hard. He knew he fucked up. He knew he did. But they were so close on finding Big John, “And you don’t have anything to say because you know I’m right.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m going to shower. You should go back to Johnny, because he clearly needs you more than you think I need you.”

“Babe,” JJ ran a hand through his hair and over his jaw.

“Just - just - don’t.” You were growing more frustrated. “I’m going to take a shower.” You dragged yourself to the bathroom, piling you clothes by the sink. Stepping into the shower, you had it on the hottest setting your body could handle. The water pressure wasn’t the best, but you loved your little shower. Tears ran down your face, but you knew JJ wasn't going to be able to tell the difference between the tears and the water when it was on your face.

You prolonged your shower, longer than you normally would have, just so you could think everything through. Johnny was just going to have to suck it up and pay the water bill. JJ was sitting on the toilet, fiddling with his hat. He just wanting to be near you. You knew he did it as much for himself as he did you. You both thrived on both quality time and physical touch.

He handed you your towel when you opened the old curtain. “Thanks,” you muttered, squeezing your hair out and watching the drops hit the floor. You wrapped the towel around your body, drying yourself off.

You guys both made your way to the room you shared, and JJ threw an old shirt of his at you. Because you weren’t paying attention, it hit you smack in the face and fell on the floor. You stared at it before looking back to JJ. Your e/c met his blue and you both burst into laughter. JJ snagged it off the ground and pulled it over your head. A smile graced both of your faces as your eyes met.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” He returned the gesture. You blinked, still keeping your eyes on his blue ones. After a few beats, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

You shrugged, trying not to think about the stinging feeling in your chest. "It's fine." You said shortly.

"It's not." JJ said, rubbing your arms. "It's not fine. I told you I'd be there and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's done and over with now." You shrugged again before sitting on the bed. "No sense in dwelling on it."

"You think John B matters more than you do. And that's just not true." JJ responded. "I love John B, he's my brother. Always has been, always will be. But you matter to me. I love you. And I'm sorry that I made you feel as though you are less than him."

Tears welded up in your eyes. "I'm just very tired of this happening. JJ, I literally called you five times. I called Kie twice, Sarah twice, Pope twice, and Johnny three times and none of you answered. I mean, I work all the time because I have to keep groceries in the house, and the mortgage and the electricity bills paid for. Johnny takes care of the water and gas and what not, and you always, always, always do what you can, but I'm tired of being made second best just because I'm keeping us afloat."

"I'm sorry." JJ whispered, beginning to pace around the room. "I'm so so sorry." JJ sighed, mad at himself for making you feel low about yourself. "I love you, Y/N. More than I've ever loved anybody. I'm sorry that I'm bad at showing it, and I'm really sorry that I left you at The Cut today."

"I love you too, JJ. But we need to be better at being there for each other when we commit to each other." JJ pulled you to your feet and hugged you too him. Face planted against his shoulder, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. He threaded one hand through your hair and the other around your shoulders. You stood there hugging each other tightly for a few moments before words came to JJ.

"You don't need to be better at it, you already are great at it. I need to be better. And I will be."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" JJ asked you, gesturing to the bed.

You nodded, flopping on the bed. JJ went to go on his side of the bed, but you dragged him to be on top of you.

When his eyes glanced up at you, you gave him a soft smile. "Hi."

"Hi yourself." He placed his mouth on yours and kissed you deeply. You both pressed into each other, trying to feel as much of each other as possible. Your hands ran through his hair, clutching tightly while his rans down your sides and planted themselves on your hips.

You finally pulled yourself away from JJ, panting as he kissed down your neck. What a perfect way to end the night, you thought to yourself, as JJ kissed further down. Make up sex was so underrated.

End.

lmk if you all want a part two!

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ CH. 2 TEASER

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you. 『 series masterlist 』

✧ TEASER WARNINGS: none!

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: ask and you shall receive! i still don't have a set drop date for this chapter, but i wanted to post this short teaser for y'all anyway since you've been waiting so patiently. i am so thankful for all of the love i'm getting for this series already!!! chapter one is almost at 500 notes which is SO insane. i get so stupidly giddy every time i receive a reply, reblog, or an ask about this series! feedback and interaction keep me writing and i am so looking forward to what all of you think of this teaser. reminder that you can track the tag 'glossdebut updates' to stay updated on drop dates/word counts/etc.!

P.S. just like with all of my teasers, wording is subject to change when the chapter actually comes out <3

✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 481 words

✧ STATUS: ongoing

Yoongi hasn’t touched a cigarette since he was twenty one years old.

He picked up the nasty habit at sixteen, when one of his friends doled out African Ice Jacks amongst the group, bragging that his hyung had bought the pack for him. As soon as the lighter was flicked on and the bittersweet taste of bubblegum and tobacco filled Yoongi’s lungs, he was hooked.

It was stupidly easy to get his hands on cigarettes before he was of legal age, even when his friend’s hyung couldn’t supply them for whatever reason. All of the adults around him smoked, including his parents. 

It felt as though cigarettes were an extension of his hand, felt wrong when he didn’t have the option to light one up. During school hours, Yoongi’s fingers would twitch on his desk as he waited for his last class to end.

He was a fucking anxious, wound-up kid. Smoking was the only thing that helped, sometimes. If he had a shit day, at least he could have a cigarette.

When the band got signed, though, things changed. Despite the fact that the majority of the population in Korea smoked, celebrities were vilified for it in the media. For whatever fucking reason. Yoongi didn’t care much what the media had to say about him, but he reasoned that it would be pretty stupid to let his dream die over Ice Jacks. So he quit.

It was hard at first, but it’s been five years now. After so much time, it’s rare that cigarettes even cross his mind, even when others smoke around him.

Sitting across the table from you now, though, Yoongi’s fingers twitch just like they had when he was in grade school staring at a clock.

He and the band started frequenting Yoojung Sikdang long before there was any real hope for fame. It was their chosen spot after every practice. The ajumma who owns it knows their names, remembers their orders by heart. Over the years, the only part of the restaurant that’s changed is their autographed photos on the wall. They’ve celebrated every single milestone here, big or small, just the five of them. Alone.

Wrapping up their first world tour should be no different. It’s their biggest milestone yet, and all Yoongi wanted was to eat ssambap with his best friends. Remind himself that none of the fame matters as long as they still have this.

But here you are. Of course. Encroaching on everything Yoongi’s built, everything he holds dear to his heart.

The only time it’s ever been more than the five of them here was the night they signed their contract, accompanied by two label executives. Even if you’re allegedly riding Jeongguk’s dick, no way are you that fucking important.

Yoongi would laugh if he wasn’t so pissed off. You are such a fucking pest. He just can’t shake you off.

✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle

@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822

@yoongiphoria @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @this-most-assuredly-counts @sugafun @binniesbabe

@1800lxcifrrr @whoa-jo @amarawayne @kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @angellekookie

@jalexad @tarahardcore @valhallawhispers @chimmisbae @notsevenwithyou

[demonic-intervention]

Tommy found her in his first year after becoming a fully fledged firefighter.

There's a fire at a wholesale market hall. It isn't big but all the products are ruined, the market is closed for the day. Obviously, the vendors aren't happy which complicates the firefighters' work. Tommy is doing one last sweep of the hall after getting into an argument with a particular pissed-off vendor.

That's when he hears it. At first, Tommy thinks it's the high pitch of a valve somewhere. But walking closer, he realizes those are meows.

There's a broken fish tank. The fish and the water went all over the place. And in the middle of this mess of shards and fish is a kitten. She is wet and oh so tiny. And probably scared for her life.

Tommy has no idea how she got here — she seems to be alone, no mama cat in sight — but he scoops her up without hesitation. Her meowing quiets down the moment she is cuddled against his chest, inside his jacket where it's warm and dry.

Back in the engine, Gerrard tells Tommy to hand the cat to animal control or whatever. Let them handle it. Tommy agrees — with no intention to do so.

He is lucky. It's the end of his shift so he takes her home. Watching her eating, he remembers how she sat in the middle of those fish and decides to call her Minnow.

~

Tommy gets home and drops dead on his bed, thinking how much he doesn't deserve this comfort after what he just did. Breaking up with Abby was the right thing to do but that doesn't change anything about how guilty he feels.

Minnow jumps on the bed and nudges Tommy's arm until he hugs her close. She's no longer a small kitten but she still acts like she's tiny despite being a fully-grown Maine Coon now. Tommy is defenseless to her charm.

And when she nuzzles into his chin and starts to purr, he thinks he might be able to heal someday. A new part of his life has just begun. Tommy lets himself get a little bit excited as he's petting her scruff.

~

The night at the bar was a flop. The first five guys who had shown interest Tommy had rejected immediately. The next few weren't his type or too shy to be a good idea. In the end, he had blown a guy in the bathroom just so the evening wouldn't be a total waste. It wasn't particularly good; it wasn't exactly bad either. All part of the process, he guesses.

Tommy smiles when he closes the door behind him. Minnow chirps and comes up to him. "Hi, precious," he says as she winds around his legs. She pushes her head into his hand, demanding head pats until she's satisfied. Then she sniffs his hand, pulls away in disgust, and walks away.

"So you don't like those guys either, huh?" Tommy jokes. At least he won't ever come home to an empty house as long as Minnow is by his side.

~

He feels absolutely miserable. The painkillers barely take the edge off. But one more day at the hospital and he would have gone insane.

The side where the shrapnel piece pierced him just a week ago hurts like hell. Tommy is happy once he finally gets himself settled semi-comfortably on his couch, although it makes him feel like he has just run a half marathon.

Tommy blindly fishes for a pillow and then wedges it underneath his head. He stares at the ceiling, just thankful for the familiar environment.

Minnow is staring at him from afar. When Tommy doesn't react to her chirps, she investigates. Agile as ever, she lands on Tommy's stomach, one paw punching his still bruised spleen.

"Ow," Tommy groans and curls to the side in pain before remembering how much that hurts. Tired, he lifts a hand to scratch her behind the ears.

"Did you miss your old man?" he asks. He has certainly missed her. His neighbor seems to have fed her well by the way she doesn't immediately beg for food by gnawing on Tommy's fingers.

Without a sound, Minnow plops herself down on Tommy's chest, right over the bandaged and healing wound. It hurts at first but then she starts to purr and all the tension begins to seep out of Tommy. He lays a hand on her back and cries, so happy to be home.

~

A familiar scene, though many many years later. Tommy throws his keys into the bowl by the door and heads straight for his bed where he flops down face first into the pillow that still smells like Evan. He inhales deeply, taking it all in and committing it to memory before the smell can fade away.

Tommy feels so thoroughly rotten. He doesn't understand how this evening could have taken such a turn so quickly but he should have seen it coming. He feels naïve and sad and guilty. But Evan will find someone else, someone better, and Tommy will get over it eventually, too. It will hurt and it will take time but it's not like he's never done it before.

The gutting work of rebuilding his confidence as if the situation didn't make him feel as inadequate and broken as it does. No one ever sees him for who he is. But he can't blame them. He can only blame himself for hoping things would be different this time.

Still, his heart aches. His whole body aches and longs for Evan.

Entering the bedroom, Minnow meows and nudges at his hand that is hanging off the bed. Electrified, Tommy snatches her up in an instant and lies down with her.

He holds her close until she settles down and drapes herself across his chest. Likely catching onto Tommy's distress, she starts to purr. It's as loud as his helicopter at take-off.

Tommy sighs, brushing over the length of her body. "Sorry, Minnow, I don't think purring can heal this wound."

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ THE BOOK CLUB — GRAYSON HAWTHORNE + READER ‧₊˚

a/n: pt two here we are!!! do i have any idea where this plot is going??? no. but you're along for the ride bitches so enjoy!! also if this is shit its bc im sleep deprived :)

[part one] i'm a fan

"it all happened so fast. everyone was happy... and then something happened... and now... now he's dead!" alya sobs from her spot on the couch.

"did you just spoil the book we're all reading together??" kira shrieks from her position on the mattress.

"i think the bitch actually just spoiled the entire book," pheobe rolls her eyes from underneath her blanket on the mattress next to kira's.

"oh come on you knew something like this was gonna happen!"

"yeah but i wasn't expecting it to be screamed aloud while i'm halfway through," kira says exasperated. "i mean please its not even five thirty yet, we got here an hour ago, how are you already finished?"

"alya, this is why we don't come over anymore," pheobe groans. "none of us were expecting that and now you've spoiled it."

"oh cry about it, i'm moving onto my next book anyway, does anyone want some snacks while i'm in the kitchen?" alya smiles nodding her head when kira requests some food and a bottle of water.

"so we're clearly never having a book club sleepover again guys," you say looking at the camera.

"no we're gonna have another," pheobe says shuffling over into the frame. "alya's just not invited."

────

yn.books

liked by alya.green, maxine.liu.loo, pheobethereader, kirasbooknook, graysonhawthorne and 672, 983 others

yn.books the book girlies unite!! for a sleepover a trip and a readathon (alya will not be invited back) stay tuned for the yt video!

tagged: alya.green, pheobethereader, kirasbooknook

view all comments

alya.green I AM OFFENDED

kirasbooknook good

pheobethereader had a lovely time with you girls can't wait to do it again (except for you alya)

alya.green u guys are so mean wtf

user1 im desperate to know why alya's in trouble lmaooo

user2 and im desperate to know why grayson is still in the likes

user3 THE GIRLIES ARE IN TEXAS I SAW THEN TODAY AND ASKED FOR A PHOTO!!!!

user4 they're in texas you say 😏😏

user5 divine rivals crushed me oh my goshhhh

graysonhawthorne divine rivals was a enticing read, thank you for the recommendation.

user6 ok so i died-

user7 OH OH OK SO WTF WHO WAS GONNA TELL ME GRAYSON IS HERE???

maxine.liu.loo the book girlies are together again!!! (invite me next time)

yn.books already done ;)

────

"they're mine," max's voice snips through the quiet of the room. she's staring directly at grayson and clearly referring to the book girls she watches.

"i'm not trying to steal anyone," grayson tries to reassure her.

"you're obsessed with my favorite one! why couldn't you have gone for pheobe or kira?" max huffs, you were her favorite. grayson had no right to become - rightfully - infatuated with you, and no matter how much he tries to deny it everyone can see he likes you. its painfully obvious.

"again i'm not stealing anyone, i've interacted like three times with-"

"grayson! the girl you're obsessed with posted another youtube video," jameson's extremely loud voice cuts through the room and emits a groan from grayson.

"i'm not obsessed with anyone," he says rising from his spot on the couch and picking up ruthless vows, which by the way he definitely went out and bought after he read divine rivals. what? he wanted to know what happened.

"oh my gosh they're in texas!!!" max screeches clearly watching the video. "they're in texas for a red carpet that they've been invited to!" she pauses watching for more conext. "they been invited to ask the people on the red carpet about books! oh my god- XANDER. we have to go to this event oh my gosh please?"

"sure and you can bring grayson along so he can officially join the book club, and meet his new idol," jameson smirks from the doorway

grayson responds by flipping him off.

────

graysonhawthorne

liked by thehawthorneheiress, ticking.time.bomb, yn.books, kirasbooknook and 4, 892, 647 others

graysonhawthorne a nice day out

view all comments

user1 i need him religiously

user2 NO BOOK THIS TIME???

user3 oh he is scrumptious isn't he

ticking.time.bomb i saw you obsessing over what photos to choose in case a certain someone saw this gray.....

user4 PLS TELL ME ITS WHO I THINK IT IS

thexanderhawthorne oh it is...

user4 OH MY GODDDD

user5 IN THE LIKES LOOK WHOS IN THE LIKES!!!!!!

user6 they're so into each other

alya.green we gotta catch up and talk about this whole situation buddy boy

user7 ALYA 😭💀

user8 i need him to go to the red carpet so they can meet!!!

────

maybe grayson should go to that red carpet... i mean he was invited. whats the worst that could happen?

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ���

@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @maybxlle @reminiscentreader, @sweetreveriee

@elysianwayy77 @tornqdowarnings, @catapparently, @zenikswaffleshop, @thelov3lybookworm

[lostintransist]

This song inspired a whole fic I don't have the time to write. But here is the blurb I threw at @backseatsoldier and @scaredyspooks

Background Johnny has low self esteem and accepts whatever affection he can from a friend bitch who takes advantage of that, shoving him in boyfriend situations emotionally for far to long. His best friend, you, has been pinning for him so long you have started to give up hope.

When the bitch moves to a city far away and you see her give Johnny a goodbye kiss that you don't realize is such. You turn on a heel and walk away, ignorning Johnny's calls and texts for the next few days.

Johnny thinks it unusual but it is about time for your period to start and you tend to be a bit wonky until the blood starts flowing. He brushes it off until a random man on base asks about his girlfriend.

"My what?"

"You're girlfriend sir, the woman on your home screen? She is your girlfriend right? I've seen her at some of the parties hanging out with you. Always has hearts in her eyes when she's around."

"Do you love me?" "Johnny I can't talk about this right now," she pushes on the door. It catches on his boot. "Please, I-I need," Johnny swallows down the fears crawling up his throat, "Do you love me?"

The dam breaks.

"I have loved you for a long time," your jaw quivers as you stare into his eyes, more familiar than your own.

"Oh thank god," he rushes forward, pulling you into a hug. One arm wraps around your ribs while the other grips into your hair, pushing your head into his shoulder. He kicks the front door shut. "I thought I would be to late," his voice breaks on the last word.

"What do you mean? You want Shannon?" Your fingers burrow into the back his shirt.

"I did. She represented everything I thought I deserved."

You try to pull back. Johnny isn't to much taller than you but the mucsle he maintains for his job robs you of the ability to flee from his words.

"What happened then? Why are you here?" You bite the words out in the space you could create between his chest and your face.

"Someone asked me today if I had broken up with my girlfriend. I was confused until they said the woman on my home screen, the one I am always gushing about. That is when I realized that he meant you."

That makes you pause in your efforts to escape. You were his home screen? Looking up at him Johnny shifts his hand from your hair to caress your face, thumb sweeping the leftover tears from your cheek.

"How long have I been your lock screen?" You whisper.

"Years," he whispers back.

The tears start up again.

"Why?" You can't force your words any louder than a whipser.

"There was a challenge a few Christmases back, to change your home screen to a photo of something that brings a smile to your face every time you see it. The last photo I had taken had been you. I've updated the photo a few times but it's been you since."

"Why did you never say anything?" The words hurt your throat as they leave.

"How could I tell one of the most important people in my life that I love her but I am a bad man who has done unspeakable things and don't deserve time or love from her? Why would I set myself up to be rightfully refused? For you to scoff at my affections?"

It's your turn to caress his face. He loosens his arms enough to allow you to touch him, but not enough to step back.

"You don't get to make that choice for me Johnny. And I don't like the version of me that lives in your head if you thought I would ever scoff at you."

He recoils, eyes slamming shut and chest caving in as if he took a bullet to the chest. Feckin' hell, she was right. It had to be him that didn't think he deserved anything resembling love though you had been peppering him with it for years.

You give him five breaths to deal with the emotional revelation before you are squishing his cheeks into his teeth, causing his lips to pop out.

"I would like to sit down and talk about this instead of being held hostage in my entryway. Would you like something to drink while we talk Johnny?"

You give him the softest smile he had ever seen, the gentlest crinkles forming around your eyes.

"Aye love, I think I need a drink." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "Can I hold your hand while we talk?"

"I would love that."

[otomehoneyybearr]

Kagari Amagase

Things I can Only Do With You at Night: Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Card

A few days later—I found myself running around town alongside Prince Kagari.

Emma: "Good work out there! I’ve placed the signs and flyers in the designated locations!"

Kagari: "I’ve picked up the supplies. I’ll leave them here."

The corner of an inn serving as the festival’s operations headquarters was overflowing with packages.

A staff member at the counter poked his head out, bowing repeatedly as he rushed over.

Man: "Thank you so much! You’ve been a great help."

Man: "I must admit, I was startled when Prince Kagari arrived, but having extra hands is always welcome."

Man: "Still, Miss Emma, you’re a visitor from another country. Are you sure you’re okay with this?"

Emma: "Yes! In fact, helping out is a great way to learn more about the town, so it’s a win-win for me."

Kagari: "You seem like the type who gets taken advantage of easily."

Emma: "…Are you really one to talk, Prince Kagari?"

●●●●●● Flashback ●●●●●●

Kagari: "Among all the regions in Kogyoku, my territory is relatively the safest. It even attracts a fair number of tourists."

Kagari: "Even if this festival is small in scale, it has more liveliness and entertainment than festivals in other territories." Kagari: “Which is why—you’re going to help with the festival preparations, Princess."

●●●●●● Flashback End ●●●●●●

Emma: "If you’re going to say that, then I’ll demand five dorayaki as payment instead of just one!"

Kagari: "...? Who said anything about one? I was planning to give you twenty."

Emma: "That’s way too many for me to eat!"

Kagari: "Then I’ll help you eat them. Problem solved, right? No leftovers to worry about."

Emma "But it’s supposed to be MY reward. Isn’t this just benefiting you, Prince Kagari?"

Man: "Haha, you two get along well. Still, I’m surprised Prince Kagari has a girlfriend!"

(Ah… there it is again…)

I’d already heard that comment dozens of times since arriving in town, but I still wasn’t used to it.

Emma: "Um, no, we’re not a couple."

Man: "Really? Then are you long-lost siblings? Or newlyweds, maybe…?"

Kagari: "None of the above."

Man: "I see… It’s just unusual to see Prince Kagari with a woman, so everyone was talking about it…"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Prince Kagari sigh quietly, looking slightly annoyed but still expressionless.

Kagari: "It’s always the same kind of talk wherever we go. It’s starting to feel tedious correcting them."

Kagari: "Maybe it’d be easier if I just made it true."

Emma: "Th-that’s obviously not an option!"

Kagari: "Relax, it’s a joke. Don’t take it so seriously. Your face is red."

(He’s teasing me!)

Kagari: "Still, even if I correct them, people might assume you’re my favorite which might actually be more convenient that way."

Emma: "Huh?"

Kagari: "Let’s go, Princess. We still have work to do."

Emma: "Oh, right."

(He brushed past that like it was nothing, but what does he mean by ‘favorite’…?)

(And why is he okay with the townspeople thinking I’m this…?)

Even if it didn’t matter to him, the thought left me feeling awkward and self-conscious. I’d need to steel myself every time I walked through the town from now on.

(Come to think of it, why did Prince Kagari ask me to help with the festival preparations?)

(From the conversation with the kids earlier, it didn’t seem like they were short on people…)

As I mulled it over, I walked toward a pile of wooden crates and checked a sheet of paper nearby.

(Next, we’re supposed to deliver these supplies to the sweets shop… Oh.)

As I reached for one of the crates, a hand appeared beside me and effortlessly lifted the crate away.

The crate should have been filled with heavy items like flour and fruit, yet Prince Kagari’s expression remained composed.

Kagari: "Your job is to guide me to the sweets shop, Princess."

Kagari: "You’ve been running around all morning, so you should know the way by now."

Emma: "Understood. Um, thank you."

The sudden subtle kindness made my heart skip a beat.

At the same time, I couldn’t ignore the stares from the people busy with the festival preparations.

(…It really feels like everyone’s convinced I’m Prince Kagari’s ‘favorite.’)

The destination for the delivery was the shop owned by the family of the boy I had met at the dojo.

Boy: "Miss, you were so excited about the festival, but you didn’t get invited by Teacher, huh?"

Emma: "I never wanted him to invite me, nor did I want to go with him, you know."

Boy: "…Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right."

While I waited outside for Prince Kagari and the shop owner to finish their conversation, the boy gave me a look of pity.

I swallowed the faint frustration I felt.

Boy: "Oh!"

As if suddenly remembering something, the boy dashed inside the shop and quickly returned.

He handed me a long, slender wooden box.

Boy: "Here, take this. These sakura sparklers are sold a lot during festivals here in Kogyoku."

Boy: "They might not seem like much to us, but they could be something unique for someone from another country."

Emma: "Wow, how pretty! Thank you!"

When I opened the lid of the box, I found several delicate, pink-colored sparklers inside.

(I’d heard about these from the owner, but this is my first time seeing them.)

The tips of the thinly twisted paper were filled with gunpowder, and each handle was adorned with a single sakura flower.

Boy: "Oh, by the way, did you know?"

Boy: "There’s a legend in Kogyoku that—"

.....

(A legend in Kogyoku.... I wonder what is was?)

Just as he was about to explain, Prince Kagari stepped out of the shop, and I didn’t get to hear the rest.

On the day of the festival, the town was bustling with excitement.

Lanterns adorned with sakura patterns and rows food stalls lined the streets, filling the town with vibrant colors and happy faces.

Carefully navigating through the crowd, I wandered from stall to stall, soaking in the atmosphere of the Kogyoku festival.

Stall Owner: "Here you go. One extra skewer of dango, on the house!"

Stall Owner: "Is Prince Kagari not with you?"

Emma: "No, I haven’t seen him today."

(I thought I might have the chance to bump into him, but finding him in this crowd seems impossible.)

(Actually, knowing how busy he is, he might not even be here.)

Suppressing the inexplicable sigh welling up inside me, I thanked the stall owner.

Stall Owner: "Miss Emma, here’s another skewer, on the house! Eat up and enjoy the festival to your heart’s content!"

Emma: "Thank you so much! I’ll enjoy it!"

(This feels more like a consolation gift.)

I accepted the dango, feeling both happy and slightly apologetic, and slipped away from the stall.

.....

Finding a quiet back alley to avoid the crowd, I began savoring the food I’d bought at the stalls when—

Kagari: "You’re eating that with real enthusiasm, Princess."

Emma: "gulp… Cough…! Pr-Prince Kagari!?"

I looked up in shock as Prince Kagari suddenly descended from the rooftop without a sound.

I should’ve been happy to see him, but his sudden, stealthy arrival startled me so much I nearly choked.

(He’s a prince, but he moves like a spy.)

Before I could recover, he casually grabbed my arm and took a bite of the skewer of colorful, sweet bean-paste-topped dango I was holding.

Emma: "Don’t steal bites of my food!"

Kagari: "You’re the one who made it look so delicious. You’d make an excellent food advertiser."

Kagari: "Here, finish the last bite before it gets cold."

Kagari: "Or would you prefer me to feed you?"

Emma: "I can manage, thank you."

(…From the way he’s acting, he probably doesn’t even think twice about this kind of thing.)

I glanced at the now slightly nibbled dango, steeling myself to eat the last bite.

The heat rising in my cheeks made it hard to focus on the flavor.

Kagari: "Are you enjoying the festival?"

Emma: "Yes! The sakura-themed food and decorations are adorable, and the unfamiliar music makes it more exciting!"

Emma: "Also, the shopkeepers were incredibly kind and gave me more than I could ever eat."

Kagari: "The people in this territory are naturally friendly and generous. They’re the type who thrive on camaraderie."

Kagari: "Looks like you’ve been well-received, Princess."

Emma: "That makes me happy to know that."

Prince Kagari’s eyes softened slightly with satisfaction as he reached into his pocket.

Kagari: "Here, take this."

Emma: "Huh?—Mmph!"

Without warning, Prince Kagari gently cupped my chin, prying my mouth open with his thumb before tossing something inside.

(Huh…? Candy? Wait, this flavor…)

Kagari: "It’s a dorayaki-flavored candy. I had it specially commissioned and supervised its production myself."

Emma: "Your passion for dorayaki is truly impressive."

Emma: "The flavor is spot-on. If it were a product, I’d definitely buy it."

Kagari: "It’ll be on sale at the confectionery shop starting tomorrow. Make sure to support it."

As the candy melted on my tongue, the taste of dorayaki spread in my mouth, creating a strange yet delightful sensation.

(I should stop by and buy some tomorrow.)

(I knew Prince Kagari loved dorayaki, but to go so far as to create a candy… I underestimated him.)

(He’s the type to pour himself entirely into the things he loves.)

Emma: "Wait… Prince Kagari?"

When I looked up, Kagari had vanished without a trace.

The lingering taste of the candy reassured me that the events just now were real, even though his sudden departure left a strange sense of emptiness.

(I guess he was on duty after all.)

(Maybe he called out to me because he happened to see me…)

(If so, I’d be happy...though that’s probably not it.)

Shaking off my hopeful thoughts, I felt a small pang of loneliness as the candy melted away.

(...It’s so quiet now.)

Prev | Next

▼・ᴥ・▼