#after he was like it’s okay we’ll get you out of here

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ instructions !

↳ logan howlett x reader

logan didn’t do crying.

not his own, not anyone else’s.

so when he walked into the bedroom and saw you sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders shaking, face buried in your hands, he froze. the sound of your soft, broken sobs was enough to make his chest tighten, but it didn’t come with instructions.

“hey.” his voice was soft, rough around the edges like it always was, but it lacked his usual confidence. he hovered in the doorway, boots rooted to the floor. “what’s wrong?”

you didn’t answer. maybe you couldn’t, or maybe you didn’t want to. either way, it left him staring, feeling like an idiot for not knowing what to do.

“c’mon, darlin’,” he tried again, this time stepping into the room, hands flexing uselessly at his sides. “talk to me.”

you shook your head, a tiny, jerky movement that made his stomach twist.

he was used to fixing things with his fists, not his words. if there was a bad guy to take out, he’d handle it. if something broke, he’d patch it up. but this - whatever had you sitting there, tears slipping down your cheeks - this wasn’t something he could fight.

logan dragged a hand through his hair, pacing in a small circle like that would suddenly make the answer appear in front of him. “dammit,” he muttered under his breath before turning back to you. “you gotta tell me what to do, sweetheart, ’cause i - ” he stopped himself, swallowing hard.

your hands dropped just enough for him to see your face, eyes red and glassy, lips trembling. it hit him like a punch to the gut.

you sniffled, voice barely above a whisper. “just… come here.”

he moved instantly, sitting down beside you, the bed creaking under his weight. he still looked hesitant, though, his fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure where to put them.

“your hands,” you murmured, reaching out and guiding one of his rough, calloused hands to rest on your shoulder. then you leaned into him, head resting against his chest.

logan stayed still for a second, startled by how natural it felt to have you pressed against him like this, even though he didn’t do this kind of thing often enough.

“like this?” he asked gruffly, wrapping his other arm around you carefully, like you might break if he squeezed too tight.

you nodded against his chest, a shaky little sigh leaving your lips. “yeah. just… hold me.”

“okay.” his voice was quieter now, less gruff, as he pulled you in closer, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. the only sounds were your soft sniffles and the steady, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

logan rubbed his thumb in slow, absent circles against your shoulder, his movements awkward at first but gradually smoothing out.

“you’re alright,” he murmured, the words awkward but sincere. “whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. you just gotta let me know how to help, yeah?”

you didn’t answer, but your breathing evened out a little, the tension in your body easing bit by bit.

“better?” he asked after a while, his voice low and rumbly.

you tilted your head to look up at him, your cheeks still damp but your lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “a little.”

“good.” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at you. “you scared the hell outta me, y’know.”

“sorry,” you murmured, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“don’t be,” he said firmly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “just… next time, maybe let me know when you’re feelin’ like this? i don’t wanna screw it up.”

you chuckled softly, a watery sound that made his lips twitch into something resembling a smile. “you didn’t screw it up, logan. you’re perfect.”

“damn right,” he said, but there was no bite to it, just a quiet sort of relief that you were starting to feel more like yourself.

he kissed you then, soft and lingering, his lips brushing yours over and over like he couldn’t quite get enough. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his hands still cradling you gently.

“love you,” he mumbled, the words gruff but undeniably genuine.

“love you too,” you whispered back, the smile on your face now reaching your eyes.

logan might not have all the answers, but he had this - you - and for him, that was enough.

ᰔ logan howlett : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[extinctlesspains]

plzzzszszs write fluff for thanos 🙏🙏

A/n: YAYAYAYYA I've been waiting for a Thanos request 🙂‍↔️♡

𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 [𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑠]

*:..｡o○　○o｡..:*

*:..｡o○　○o｡..:*

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏs (ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ 230) x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ғʟᴜғғ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟ sǫᴜɪᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇs, ᴛʜᴀɴᴏs ᴏғғᴇʀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ʀᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇss, sʜᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀ sᴀᴠᴇᴅ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇɪɢɴɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀ ᴏғ ʜᴏᴘᴇ. ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜɪs sᴛᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴀ sᴍᴀʟʟ ʙᴜᴛ sɪɢɴɪғɪᴄᴀɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ғɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ.

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘᴜʀᴇ ғʟᴜғғ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The main room was dimly lit, the faint buzz of the old fluorescent bulbs the only sound. You sat in the corner, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the floor. Each game took another piece of you, leaving only scraps of hope behind.

The room was mostly empty, contestants scattered in their own corners, each dealing with their fears and grief in silence. You were so lost in thought you almost didn’t notice someone approach.

“Mind if I sit here?” a deep, gentle voice broke through your fog.

Looking up, you saw Thanos, Player 230. He was tall and broad, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting. His features were rugged, a scar tracing his cheekbone, but his brown eyes were warm, and his purple hair was goofy. You managed a small nod, shuffling over slightly.

He lowered himself beside you, sitting with his legs stretched out and arms resting casually on his knees. The quiet stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, his voice softer now.

You shook your head, your chin trembling. “Not really,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, considering you. “Figured as much. No one’s really okay here.”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s an understatement.”

Thanos smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes but still felt genuine. “Still. You’ve made it this far, haven’t you? That’s no small thing.”

You glanced at him, skeptical. “Feels like luck more than strength.”

“Luck’s important,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s not everything. It takes guts to survive here. And you’ve got that. I can see it.”

His words caught you off guard, stirring something in you that you hadn’t felt in days: belief. You wanted to dismiss it, but his steady gaze made it hard to argue.

“Why are you being so nice?” you asked softly.

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall as he thought. “Because I know what it’s like to feel alone,” he said simply. “No one should have to go through this without someone watching their back.”

His answer made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, with a sincerity that felt rare in a place like this.

After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of candy. “Here.”

You blinked at it. “Where did you even get that?”

“Been saving it,” he said, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Figured I’d need it for a rough day. But looks like you could use it more.”

You stared at him, the gesture so unexpectedly kind it left you speechless. Tentatively, you took the candy from his outstretched hand, unwrapping it carefully as though it were a precious treasure.

The sweetness melted on your tongue, and for the first time in days, you felt something other than despair.

“Thanks, Thanos,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Stick with me. We’ll get through this.”

You wanted to believe him. In this place where betrayal and cruelty ran rampant, someone like Thanos was a rarity.

“Why are you so sure we’ll make it?” you asked, curious despite yourself.

He shrugged. “You don’t survive by giving up. Besides, if anyone’s got a shot, it’s you. You’ve got fight in you—I saw it in the last round.”

His confidence in you was disarming. You weren’t sure if he was just saying it to keep your spirits up or if he actually meant it, but either way, it worked.

For a while, you sat there together in comfortable silence. The world outside the break room seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—a small beacon of hope in the unlikeliest place.

“You’re not bad company, Thanos,” you said eventually, managing a small smile.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth fighting for.

[wincore]

I faked my engagement for free cake samples and got sued after I ran away AIO | haechan

pairing: haechan x baker!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, rivals (?) to lovers (?)

warning(s): quite possibly you will be inflicted with cringe, shameless scamming, mild swearing, one (1) innuendo

words: 5.4k

song recs: santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter, too late for chocolate? by kana hanazawa, like a raspberry by 宇宙ネコ子, honey by kara

a/n: ty to my queens lana and cat for gassing up this dumpster fire i wrote in a caffeine haze while watching my bf die every 20 secs in ds3. the initial plot was going to be far longer and more fleshed out but i fear i'm past my prime ( ._. )" i still hope you guys have fun with this one!! i got to play around with hallmark comedy far more this time, so overall it was a fun time writing <3 happy new year, my lovely mooncakes!!

part of a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab <3

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 3h

I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

I (24F, small bakery owner) faked my engagement to get free cake samples at my rival bakery but the employee said I needed my fiance to be there. I panicked and grabbed the first guy to come through the bakery door after me. Turns out he’s not just some random customer. To top it off, he was ridiculously attractive even though he pissed me off every two sentences. I had a panic attack, told myself it’s totally not my fault, and moved on by baking fourteen cakes over the weekend. I thought I got away with it, but three days later, I got an email from him—he’s now suing me for “emotional damages” and “theft of pastries.” Am I doomed, or is this just karma with extra frosting?

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 2,701 Comments

bun_theory0222 • 2h

INFO: Did you at least try the samples? Were they worth the lawsuit? We’re all dying to know here.

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.2k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h

nah cuz why is he suing when he CLEARLY wants to flirt??? this man is embarrassing but so are you. somebody matched ur freak <3

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m

YTA why can’t this shit happen to me. AT LEAST I would commit to the bit.

➥ Reply ⥣ 420 ⥥

cerealfordinner0323 • 2h

Bro sued you just to slide into your life again. He’s not slick, and neither are you. Good luck with that wedding cake.

➥ Reply ⥣ 9,011 ⥥

. . .

If you could hop a few steps to the right, feign unconsciousness, and climb right into the active fireplace, it could potentially make everything okay. For you, that is. Not for the poor bakery employees who would have to call the cops. 

“I’m sure he’s a handsome one!” The girl behind the counter giggles, light pink dusting her cheeks. “You’re- you’re so gorgeous!”

Setting aside the fact that most gorgeous women you know end up with malformed gargoyles, your current predicament is almost equally sinister. What started as an innocuous process to gain free wedding samples (in other words, a scam) has led to a question that should be obvious but completely escaped your mind following your trailing success.

“We’ll need to have you come in with your fiance for the free wedding cake samplers. Is he around?”

Is he around?! Boy, you sure hope so. Because now you’re also frantically looking around with the employee after you blurted out another lie: “He’s going to be here soon!”

When did you turn into a compulsive liar? You’re not sure if your mom would be proud of you for being so good at nabbing free food, or disappointed that you’re a filthy liar. After all, she did tell the buffet employees you were under 10 all the way till you were 14. So, really, you’re not the source of the problem! You brush your festive red skirt of invisible crumbs, trying to busy yourself.

The cafe itself is well decorated for Christmas—a silver reindeer bores holes into your head from by the front door, a small Christmas tree stands at the center that’s a little emaciated but the cute Sanrio ornaments in Santa hats make up for it, and most importantly, a beautiful Mont Blanc cake sparkles from atop the glass counter. (Seriously, why didn’t you think of this? Your own bakery is all sparkles and no play.)

You move out of the way of other customers, and casually glance at the source of your awe and joy. Powdered sugar dusts the top as idyllic snow, covering the sugared cranberries and sugared chestnuts, not dent in them under the white fondant star. The base of the cake is tied with an edible red ribbon, completing the seasonal aesthetic of it. A sigh rests momentarily upon your lips before it escapes. 

You love Mont Blanc cakes, but you never quite get it right. That’s your biggest failure as an up-and-coming baker, and such is the reason for your unhinged serial sampling scam. You swear it started off as a search for inspiration in a creative rut but before you knew it, a lie had spilled from your eclair-sweetened lips, and another, and another. 

It is at this point that you briefly consider bolting for the door. Tibet is great around this time of the year. Maybe if you convert to a monk lifestyle and atone for your sins, you’ll be granted a pardon in the form of delicious sweets. Before you can make your escape, however, the front door jingles, and in strides a sight unbelievably reassuring. A man with caramel hair enters, who might as well be wrapped in a giant red ribbon and seated atop a snow-white horse in golden ornaments.

It’s a Christmas miracle. Hallelujah! They still apply to you.

His smile—soft and sweet as meringue hearts—lights up the room as he inhales the warm, sugary air of the bakery. You’re hit with the vaguest sense of familiarity. He might be one of the few customers you get these days. For a moment, you falter. Are you really going to victimize this stranger?

Yes. Yes, you are. The situation is dire.

“Hi darling!” You exclaim within earshot of the employee, before lowering your voice. “Could you help me out a little here?”

The man blinks, dazed for whatever reason. “Uh… sure?”

“Okay, then follow along and ask questions later,” you reply, and loop your arm through his gingerly. The touch of his fuzzy winter coat makes you relax a little. It is chocolate-colored, with beige fluff around the collar. Not now, you think to yourself, You need to stop thinking about sweets for one goddamn moment.

“Here he is,” you laugh sheepishly as you bring the man forward. Gosh, what in the heavens are you doing? You didn’t even ask his name. 

The employee stares, jaw agape. What’s with the reaction? He’s not that hot. 

“O-oh,” she responds. “That’s quite the surprise. I never knew. Congratulations, sir!”

You turn to look at him. He simply scratches his chin with a sheepish smile, and manages to respond with a “Thanks, Kimi.”

He must be a regular, you think. Oh, (Name), what did you get yourself into? You’re just gonna have to read his name off his coffee order first.

“We have a selection of samples for our wedding cake choices,” the girl, Kimi, moves to the far side of the counter, offering a small menu card to the two of you. “I know you’re not a big fan of wedding cakes, Mr. Lee, but the latest tiramisu flavors should suit your tastes, no?”

Just how close are they?! You chew on your lip and try to calm your depraved little heart.

“Well,” he responds, thinking for a second, “I actually hadn’t thought this far. What do you think, honey?”

He turns to you with a radiant smile, but you sense a hint of mischief. You don’t have time to think of that though—so you just change the topic. 

“Actually, do you have a Mont Blanc flavor? I’ve always had trouble perfecting it myself.”

Truth be told, that ‘honey’ had flowed from his lips and struck you straight in the heart. He’s not too bad to look at, you think now. His tousled hair catches the light with a playful sheen, framing his face and accentuating his disbelieving smile, while his fluffy coat adds a cozy touch to his charming, boyish demeanor. If you were to overthink a little, you’d find a hint of mischief in his voice. Alas, you’re a simple girl who only overthinks sweet treats, not boys.

“You bake?” He blurts, before his ears turn red from realization.

Kimi shoots him a puzzled look and your breath hitches in your throat. Was the miracle an idiot in disguise?

“I mean, uh, gosh, you make me so nervous, honey.” He looks like he’s trying his very best to ace an exam he never studied for. “I meant to ask if you're going to bake.. today? Don’t look at me like that.” 

Maybe you should’ve picked a candied apple and prayed that a witch had poisoned it. You can’t even force out a smile at that pathetic save.

“You’re a lucky man, Mister,” Kimi jabs, a look of distrust in her eyes before they flash to you. “I’m afraid Miss (Name) in a wedding dress would make me drop dead at the altar.”

“Oh, you- you flatter me,” you choke out, “I promise you wedding gowns aren’t my thing at all. Besides, you’d look beautiful in white yourself.”

Why is she so into this wedding conversation? How close are these two? You’re not sure how to react, and neither do you know how this man is going to explain your mysterious disappearance the next time he visits the bakery. You’re sure as hell not going to continue the act beyond this. It’s time you retired from this scam business. You’re not even sure how you’ll talk your way out of this with the man, currently engaged in small talk with Kimi. 

And— is he blushing?! Does he have something going on with the girl—Kimi? Did you just ruin something? Your heart tightens a little, and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to the floor, head in your hands.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. When you open your mouth, you are interrupted.

“Actually, Miss, I think I take back what I said about the handsome part,” Kimi jokes, evident disdain sent towards Donghyuck.

Your natural response is a little laugh that leaves before you know it. Maybe, the feelings you sensed were of unrequited resentment. He does have the kind of face that looks like it’s often smacked by girls. No offense to him.

Kimi hands you the first sample (two delicious slices of Mont Blanc) and excuses herself to fetch the rest. The two of you make your way to a booth with the heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced. You might as well be at a funeral.

“So… free samples are that good, huh?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“I’m Donghyuck, by the way,” he responds with a youthful laugh. “Might I have the honor of knowing my fiance's name?”

“(Name). And stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a short breath.

“You know, maybe we should’ve pretended it was an arranged marriage.”

“Quite proficient in the scamming business, are you?”

“Oh, you’re better off not knowing my dirty secrets.”

You couldn’t care less about his secrets but the look you shoot at him is certainly dirty.

He opens his mouth but you interrupt him to absolve yourself first. “Listen, I don’t do this often. And I’ll have you know it’s nothing personal. Well, not against you. The owner of this place maybe.”

Donghyuck blinks. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all for being a hater with my fiance.”

You stare at him, not impressed.

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so this started a month or two ago. I had been working tirelessly, testing recipe after recipe, trying to perfect the Mont Blanc cake. It was my dream to make it iconic, you know? But before I could even settle on the perfect combination of flavors, some smug bastard opens a bakery right across from me. And what does he have as his specialty? Why, the Mont Blanc cake of course. Seasonal! Cute, elaborate new decor every two weeks! Just how rich is he? I bet he doesn't even bother to create his own recipes. This guy didn’t just steal my idea, he’s turned my passion into some overpriced, generic trend!”

You heave, tired from the onslaught of frustration. Chewing on your lower lip, a pout naturally makes its way onto your face, and so do more complaints. 

“And that’s not all, okay? I never see him at the bakery. I refrain from entering my competitors' establishments unless I greet them in person. But this asshole is just never there! What, is he too good to work at his own bakery? Too good to grace us lowly bakers with a visit? How could he just swoop in and steal my signature item?”

Donghyuck listens to your rant with intent, cheek resting against his palm. He even looks a little ridiculously charmed right now. 

“Wait… so you’re the infamous Free Cake Phantom everyone’s talking about?” He gasps.

You’ve finally turned to your poor, neglected Mont Blanc sample, just for your heart to jump out. “What?”

“Just kidding. Your secret is safe,” he says, digging into the cake with infuriating nonchalance. “But hey, you’ve got good taste. This Mont Blanc though? It’s my personal recipe.”

Your fork halts halfway to your mouth. “Your recipe? What, you work here or something? And, no offense, but it’s overwhipped.”

If that’s a joke, it’s not very funny. The man looks more like a confectionary than a confectioner. There’s no way he works here. He’s probably some jobless guy drifting from bakery to bakery on early Saturday mornings.

His jaw drops. “Overwhipped? Are you kidding me?”

You wave the fork at him like it’s a weapon. “Chestnut puree shouldn’t have the texture of mousse. It’s called finesse, Mr. Lee.”

Before he can respond, Kimi returns with another tray, and you slip back into character, placing your hand on Donghyuck’s. “Thank you,” you coo at her. “I can’t wait to share all these flavors at our wedding.”

Donghyuck stiffens slightly at the unexpected contact, but he recovers quickly, plastering on the fakest grin known to man. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Kimi laughs. “You’re such a lovely couple. When’s the big day?”

You freeze, and so does Donghyuck. For a moment, neither of you has an answer.

“Oh, we’re still, uh, deciding,” you blurt, glancing at him for backup.

“Yeah, we’re thinking spring,” he adds smoothly. “Cherry blossoms. Very romantic.”

“Y-yes. Maybe the Raspberry Rose should be in the winner’s spot then.”

As Kimi bows politely and walks away again, Donghyuck leans in to whisper. “Should I book the honeymoon now, or…?”

“Don’t push your luck,” you hiss, elbowing him in the ribs. 

He makes a pained sound, but recovers quickly. 

The second flavor is dubbed “Marble Eclipse”, a decadent blend of rich chocolate and vanilla, perfectly balanced with a luscious buttercream frosting. You try to focus on the taste, but Donghyuck’s smug grin as he watches you take a bite is more distracting than you’d like to admit. You’re not easily flustered, not by men. Unfortunately, he would have been the exact type you’d have tried to nab in college.

You shake your head. Focus, (Name), you think to yourself, You’re in the enemy’s lair right now!

“So… I might as well come clean,” Donghyuck says with a serious tone, right after you’ve taken a bite. You pause in horror. What arcane knowledge is he going to use for your humiliation this time?

“I visit your bakery often, and I must say your selection is just as good, if not better.”

You exhale.

“Oh, it’s better alright,” you retort, before realizing the unwarranted passion in your voice. You compose yourself. “I mean, maybe their Mont Blanc is… a solid competitor.”

Donghyuck laughs, clearly amused by the bashfulness on your face.

“Wait, are you patronizing me?”

“Of course not!” He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I think the difference is that this one keeps up with the youth.” He waves his fork about, explaining his point further. “Everyone loves new, shiny things. Cycle those as much as possible. Have you ever considered holding blind box events with your cupcakes? I’m sure the kids would love to find out which flavor of panda bear cupcake they got—matcha, my personal favorite, or coconut cream, or… god forbid, chocolate mint. Ugh. Have you considered removing that from the menu? Anyway, that shouldn’t take too much time and money, right?”

The youth? What is he, forty? However, however, the look on his face as he describes your own baked goods to you is enough to make you intensely flustered. Has this man visited so often? And you never noticed him? How could you miss that easy-going smile?

A familiar figure saves you from whatever awkward, garbled response you were going to muster.

Despite Kimi’s arrival, Donghyuck has a hard time taking his eyes off you. Lashes swaying with each flicker of his eyes over your face, he’s hardly taking a bit of the delicious marble cake, in fact. What, have you got something on your face?

Kimi apologizes profusely before you can say anything to greet her. 

“There’s only one slice prepared for the Tiramisu Dream sample,” she explains. “I’m so sorry about this. Would you mind sharing this one? I apologize again.”

“No worries, Kimi,” Donghyuck responds, laughing a little. You shake your head and reassure it’s alright too. 

Anyway, that slice is going to be yours. You’re ready to pry it from his cold, dead hands.  

To your surprise, though, he shoots a friendly smile at you. 

“Want the first bite?”

“May I?” You ask, just to be sure.

“By all means,” he says, gesturing grandly. “After all, what’s mine is yours, fiance.”

You swear, if he calls you that one more time, he’s going to end up in the cake display.

Kimi stares at the two of you blankly for a moment. It instantly flusters you and Donghyuck both, so much so that the idiot digs his fork into the cake slice and holds it up to your lips with a soft ‘ah’ —and so much so that you actually accept it graciously. 

And all that only for Kimi to not even notice as she excused her way back to the counter. So now you’re just two idiots deep in your romantic charades. Donghyuck clears his throat, too late to cover his coral-tinted cheeks and ears. You’re certain you wear a similar expression.

“You’re- you’re so weird,” you jab, unable to come up with an insult higher than middle school grade. 

“What, you wanted me to do airplanes too?!”

“Take that fork and drive it through your tongue, will you?”

“Woah, woah, no need for violence, Miss (Name). Peace and Love.”

Unexpectedly, it makes you break character into unbound laughter. The weariness of the act and the silliness of the whole situation leaks into the sound, and it’s enough to make Donghyuck join in. For passersby, you are just a couple already past your third, fifth and seventh dates.

“Any comments for the tiramisu cake?” Donghyuck asks, grinning ear to ear.

You catch your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, I have a comment: who puts this much cocoa powder on top? Are you trying to choke your customers?”

“Awh, and I thought you were gonna be nice,” he whines, “Your smile is just so… inviting.”

As if on cue, he chokes on the cocoa powder. 

“I still like it,” you continue. “I’d just do it better.”

“I have the utmost confidence in that.”

Gosh, his smile is nauseating—too bright, too easy, like he’s actually enjoying this. Maybe he’s a rising actor, and you’re the one being hoodwinked. After all, who looks at someone like that on a first meeting?

A moment passes, and suddenly his thumb is at the corner of your lips, brushing off the cocoa powder with a touch so casual it feels anything but. “Got it,” he murmurs, and the air between you shifts, warm and oddly heavy.

“So, how do you know all this?” you ask, changing the topic. You’re forcing yourself to focus, to breathe. 

He leans back, a small laugh slipping out like he’s grateful for the lifeline. “You- uh- you could say I’m a connoisseur of pastries,” he offers, his voice lighter now. “I like to sample the best around town—just, you know, legally. I even take notes of my favorites.”

He gestures towards you, and you scoff.

The words settle between you as you toy with the edge of your skirt, smoothing the fabric down over your lap. There’s something about the way he speaks—so casual, so effortless—that needles at you. For a man so annoyingly confident, he sure seems relieved to have redirected the conversation.

Your hand grazes the tiny snowman buttons on your cardigan, tracing the cold plastic absentmindedly. His gaze flickers to the movement, then back to your face, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. You don’t know what’s more embarrassing—getting outed as the Cake Thief or the fact that he’s bound to know he flusters you.

You tilt your head, giving him a skeptical look. “How professional of you.”

The bite in your tone is softening, and you don’t like it one bit.

He holds up his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey, it’s an art. Someone’s gotta appreciate it, right?”

The faint chatter of other patrons fills the room, but his presence sharpens the moment, making it feel like it’s just the two of you. For a fleeting second, you catch yourself wondering what kind of person would take notes on pastries for fun. It’s so bizarrely specific, so utterly unnecessary—and yet, so like him.

His smile deepens, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the traitorous grin threatening to break through. You refuse to indulge him, even as you feel the faintest crack in your defenses.

"Maybe,” you say, finally.

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, before leaning back against his chair with a satisfied air, as if he’s won something. You glance at the tray, willing yourself to focus on anything else.

How awkward. How warm. 

You spot a napkin fluttering off the table, carried by a sudden draft from the door. Instinctively, you step out of your chair to grab it, but Donghyuck beats you to it, scooping it up with an exaggerated flourish and a bow.

“Your knight in shining armor,” he declares dramatically, holding it out like a trophy.

“More like my nuisance in sugar-stained armor,” you retort, snatching it from his hand.

He laughs, unabashed. “Ah, so sharp. Yet here you are, sharing cake with said nuisance. Life is full of mysteries.”

“I’m just here for the cake,” you deadpan, dusting your hands off.

For a second, his smile falters—not in hurt but in sheer disbelief. He tilts his head, studying you with an incredulous expression, and you suddenly feel like a frog under a magnifying glass.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, almost to himself, his voice low but still playful.

“Get what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Donghyuck presses his lips together, fighting back a grin. He steps closer, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of chestnut cream. “I mean, I could spell it out for you, but that might ruin the fun.”

“Spell what out?” you press, a little flustered now.

He straightens with a laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing, you airhead. Absolutely nothing. Is your head full of cotton candy, by any chance?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, he’s already pulling his chair back, resuming his seat with a sigh.

“Mont Blanc, Marble Eclipse, and Tiramisu on the first date,” he states, deep in thought. “Maybe Matcha Lemon, Lavender Peach, and White Chocolate on the second… Perhaps a Red Velvet and a Strawberry Shortcake before you realize I literally own this place?”

You feel the heat intensify on your cheeks. You almost miss the last part, clouded by the implications of the rest of his words. He… wants to go on more dates with you? Was this a date all along? You’ve been swindled into having fun with a man somehow. He even knows the ins and outs of a baker’s life. And he’s charming in an oddball sort of way. You shouldn’t be feeling solidarity with this weirdo. But then again, somehow, his laugh is very… endearing. 

Wait a minute.

“You- you really own the place?!” A scream dies in your throat.

Donghyuck looks positively taken aback. “So you actually weren’t aware?!”

“What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know?! You described yourself as a connoisseur of pastries. I thought you were some kind of freelance failure so I didn’t pry!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, either that or you’re unbelievably rich. But then you don’t look it. Your sleeves have flour and oil stains on them, and your shoes are all dusty too, and there’s gold flakes in your hair—okay, how did I miss this?”

“Geez, way to judge someone by their looks. I’m not taking that from the local tart snatcher.”

The retort barely registers because your brain is too busy replaying the words “I own this place.” The realization hits, and before you can think better of it, the chair screeches back as you bolt upright.

“Wait, where are you—” Donghyuck’s voice is cut off by your shrill, mortified “Bye!” as you make a beeline for the door, leaving behind a very startled staff and a half-empty tray of cakes. Immediately after your exit, you let out a shriek. 

What the hell are you doing?!

Your face burns as you speed-walk down the street, each step punctuated by the memory of your impulsive retreat. You must have cast your senses away at that moment, like some wide-eyed fool in a fairy tale, almost charmed by that silly man and his absurd little quirks. It’s not your fault, of course—it’s his, with his flour-dusted sleeves, that stupidly endearing laugh, and the way he talked about pastries like they were a love language. What was wrong with him?! you think, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was your awkwardness and runaway theatrics that had caused the scene. You’d blame it on sugar overload if it weren’t for the nagging realization that maybe—just maybe—he’d gotten under your skin, and the fact that you deserved it.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Not after your embarrassing getaway. But three days later, you’re staring at an email with the subject line: "Notice of Legal Action for Unauthorized Sampling."

You open it with trembling fingers, only to find what can only be described as the world’s most dramatic—and definitely fake—lawsuit. 

Your jaw drops as you scroll through the email. He’d even attached a fake case number: #CAKE-404-NO-FUN.

The body of the email was littered with ridiculous legalese. Phrases like "egregious acts of confectionery negligence" and "failure to properly appreciate artisanal craftsmanship" were scattered between absurdly specific accusations.

There is a diagram. An actual diagram. Arrows pointing to "Exhibit A" (the Mont Blanc) and "Exhibit B" (the empty spot on the tray), annotated with notes like "victim of hasty consumption" and "left to fend for itself."

And then, at the very bottom, there it was—the pièce de résistance:

“This suit may be settled by one (1) heartfelt apology and one (1) coffee date at the aforementioned bakery. Should you require legal counsel, I suggest bringing your A-game. I am, after all, a connoisseur of arguments… and pastries. 😉”

You groan, head thunking against the back of your chair. The audacity. The drama. The fuckass emojis. 

This man is getting to you.

Your first reaction is, of course, panic. Your second? Rage. And by the time you storm into the bakery at ass o’clock before it even opens, Donghyuck is waiting for you, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. (Which he does, actually.)

He’s propped on his elbows, his posture easy and unhurried, as if he’s been expecting you. The black apron around his waist is slightly askew, and his beige T-shirt bears faint streaks of flour across the chest, a testament to an already busy morning. His fluffy brown hair is an artful mess, the kind that looks unintentional but infuriatingly perfect, with a few errant strands curling over his forehead. There’s a streak of something golden—sugar, maybe?—on his cheek, catching the light as he tilts his head to regard you with an expression that’s equal parts curious and smug.

“You’re early,” he remarks, his voice low and teasing, as though he isn’t the root of all evil.

“You think this is funny?” you demand, shoving your phone in his face.

Donghyuck grins, unbothered. “Hilarious, actually. Did it get your attention?”

“You can’t just send someone a fake legal notice!”

“Worked, didn’t it?” He shrugs, leaning back with infuriating calmness. “Besides, you owed me an explanation for your Houdini act. You know, poor Kimi had to clear your tray. She almost cried.”

“She did not!”

As if on cue, Kimi pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, she absolutely did. It was tragic,” she deadpans before ducking back in.

You groan, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. “You’re unbelievable.”

Donghyuck leans back, smug as ever, and gestures to the email still open on your phone. “Unbelievable or resourceful? Let’s review: I sent a single, harmless message—full of creativity and wit, I might add—and look where we are.”

“At me wanting to strangle you?”

“At you running right to me,” he corrects, his grin widening. “What, were you worried?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap. “I’m here because—” 

You stop, realizing you don’t have a decent answer. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I took you seriously.”

“Oh, you absolutely took me seriously.” He nods sagely. “I saw the panic in your eyes. Admit it: for a second, you thought you were going to have to pay me a hundred grand or grovel at my feet.”

“I- ugh- fuck you!” is all you can muster, stepping forward without thinking.

He mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by degrees. 

“But seriously, you ghosted me, and I had to get creative. What the hell was I supposed to do? I figured the legal drama might get my point across.”

“What point?”

“That I wanted to see you again.” The words come out so easily, so matter-of-fact, you don’t know how to respond. When you finally glance up, he’s watching you closely, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“Just because you’re all cute and covered in flour like the star of some indie chef movie doesn’t mean you get to toy with me.”

“Ha! You’re presumptuous—despite all the fine details on me you seem to observe.” He leans in. “But guess what, I’m a greedy bastard that loves attention. So, look closer.”

And you look anywhere but his lips, too pink and too plush, as your face grows hotter than a convection oven on broil.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you manage, staring resolutely at the display of cakes. “That hardly counts as details.”

“Details,” he echoes, his grin growing wider. “Like the way I look at you?”

“You’re just a flirt,” you mutter.

He gasps, mock-offended, and gestures dramatically to the kitchen. “Kimi, did you hear that? I’m just a flirt!”

“You said it, not me,” Kimi calls back without missing a beat.

You laugh despite yourself, the sound surprising you. And Donghyuck doesn’t miss it. His gaze softens, the teasing edge in his voice dropping slightly. “There it is. I knew you could laugh without running away.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

For a moment, the air shifts, the humor giving way to something quieter. Donghyuck’s gaze lingers—not on your awkward posture or flushed cheeks, but on you, as though trying to piece together something he doesn’t quite understand.

“What?” you finally ask, defensive.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, but there’s a small, genuine smile now. “Just... you’re such a fidgety person.”

“Are you trying to shell out an insult?”

“No, I mean, I always see you scuttling here and there. Always on the move. Always observing, but never stopping long enough to be seen. You just… don’t seem like someone who takes much time for yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s crossed a line.

“I’m wrong?” he asks, almost sheepishly.

“I—” You pause, unsure of how to respond. “You’re nosy, that’s what you are.”

“That’s a yes,” he decides, grinning again.

Donghyuck chuckles, leaning just a little closer, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. “Tell you what,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I’ll prove I’m not just nosy. Let me take you out. Somewhere you don’t have to bolt out the door halfway through.”

“You think I’d agree to that?” you retort, though your words lack bite. The proximity is doing something to your brain, and you’re acutely aware of how close he’s leaned in.

His grin is confident and infuriating. “I think you’d be curious enough to say yes.”

Your breath hitches as you realize how little space is left between the two of you, your noses almost brushing. “Woah,” you whisper, trying to play it off, “my mommy warned me about boys like you. All up close and personal with flour in their hair.”

He raises a brow, unrepentant. “Smart woman. But she didn’t tell you we’re pretty good at first dates, did she?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, soft but genuine. “Fine,” you say, straightening up and taking a step back before your pulse betrays you further. “But you’re paying. And no weird cakes this time.”

“Deal,” he replies, his smile softer now, more sincere.

And for a moment, you believe it—not just the act, not just the cakes and the banter, but the idea that maybe, somehow, this strange, sugar-dusted series of events has led to something real.

. . .

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 16h

UPDATE: I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

Fine, you guys were right. We’re dating now. Let’s just say we’ve been filling my cream puffs lately  🫠

Edit: I also got the Mont Blanc recipe!!

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 3,297 Comments

kimikakes • 13h

KIMI HERE, REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE: they literally argued over frosting consistency for half an hour yesterday. This relationship is built on chaos and croissants.

➥ Reply ⥣ 7.1k ⥥

bun_theory0222 • 2h

Hellooo where are the recipes. Priorities, OP :/

➥ Reply ⥣ 4.1k ⥥

lil_sugar_daddy0813 • 1h

man i was betting on donghyuck dying alone i dont wanna lose my $20

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h Give me your money NYEOW ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m why are you suddenly a furry ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h pays the bills ➥ Reply ⥣ 2.7k ⥥

[antoncyng]

౨ ( 이희승 ) ৎ — 𝐸𝒱𝐸𝑅𝒴 𝒮𝒰𝑀𝑀𝐸𝑅𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸

☆. : ,｡ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — a story where you look for heeseung in every sunset of the summer, until he’s finally yours. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 . lee heeseung x f!reader 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 / 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). crushing, est. relationship, fluff, kissing. 𝐰𝐜. 0.5k

💌 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 — special birthday comeback surprise for my baby @ourhees ( ◠‿◠ ) you’re finally 18!! after my hiatus, i’m making a little comeback gift for you :33 i hope you enjoy!!

the orange yellowish light shining through your sheer curtains, the beautiful ocean waves visible from your bedroom’s window. sunsets like these remind you of the summer a year prior, hands held as you walked along the beach.

“you know this can’t be forever, right?” heeseung speaks up, your heart clenching at the reminder as you nod. “i know, but i want to treasure the moment while i can.” he nods, knowing his heart is reaching out for you too.

heeseung was always traveling, every summer his family would come back to your town to meet up, giving you little time to yourselves as your family spent time together, today was his last day of his travels, but the first day he realized his feelings for you were true.

“why can’t you ask your parents to stay a little longer? i hate thinking that you’ll forget me everytime you leave again..” you say, hurt in your voice as he packs up his things from your room, dropping his bag and walking over to you, cupping your face in his hands. “i could never forget you so quickly, angel. you know my parents are busy with work, that’s why i even have time to come out here. we’ll meet again next summer, i promise you.”

he always says that, the same every year since you were kids. looking into your eyes lovingly with his pupils widened, knowing you couldn’t stay mad at him as he held his pinky out, waiting for you to interlock yours. “you better be back quick..” you mumbled, crossing your pinky into his, his grin growing on his face while he nods.

it was finally summer, sitting by your window as you watched the waves rise and fall over the sand, the sun setting beautifully as it always does. ‘was heeseung coming back this year? what will he look like now?’ was all you could think of.

knocking at the door, your parents already excited to get it as you almost sprinted downstairs, seeing heeseung’s smile as he stood at the door, waiting for a hug from you.

nuzzling his face into your hair, he held you closely by your waist, holding you as if you could disintegrate any second now. he pulls away from the hug, still holding you close in your arms. “i’m staying, i’m staying for good” he announces, grinning at the shock on your face.

“so i’m taking this chance now while i’ll be staying for good.. yn, can i take the honor of being your boyfriend?” he asks with a nervous smile, his hands rested on your waist as you nod your head eagerly, cupping his face and kissing him gently and lovingly.

now, you didn’t have to wait for every summertime.

💌. — 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 ; heheh i hope you enjoyed this one savvy :33 this is officially my comeback post it might be kinda bad bc it was very rushed but its okay HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAV i love u so dearly have an amazing birthday hehehee ( also.. kinda new layout what do we think heh)

tags ( @ourhees @flwrstqr @cupidhoons ) idk who else to tag tbh

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLI)

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for a bit of Christmas fluff!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2641

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Mistletoe

Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go Nodding under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), No footsteps came, no voice, but only, Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, Stooped in the still and shadowy air Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

Walter de la Mare

“In the lane, snow is glistening… a beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight…”

You smiled at the sound, stopping your movement to listen to Andrew’s rich voice while he sang mindlessly to the tune you had heard on the radio earlier that day. You were left with wrapping paper only half-folded over your gift for Andrew’s mother.

You would spend Christmas with his family, travelling all the way back to Bray for the occasion. It was your first time with his extended family, but you already knew things would go well. You were growing close to Andrew’s parents and brother, had met several of his uncles and aunts already as well, and everything had happened smoothly. You weren’t so nervous this time around. You were simply… happy.

On the 25th, there was a gathering with some friends planned. You had invited Colm and Siobhán as well as Andrew’s close friends. You couldn’t wait for that too, for your best friend to finally be including in the family you were joining. Next week, it would Andrew would blend perfectly in your own little tribe, the way he always did, to celebrate the coming of a new year and all the promises it withheld.

“… walking in the winter wonderland…”

Andrew looked up at you now, noticing your pause, that you were lost in thoughts. He tilted his head a little at the sight, and your heart was filled with warmth at the domesticity of it all… wrapping presents in his living room, with Elwood playing with one of the toys you had bought for him nearby, the glow of the Christmas tree you had decorated together, and Andrew looking warm and cozy with a messy bun, his glasses, his casual jumper…

“You’re okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, a tender smile growing on your lips.

“What got you lost in thought like that?”

“Hmmm… I think I’m gonna make some hot cocoa.”

“Oh! Can I have one?”

“Of course, baby.”

You resumed your wrapping, carefully folded the paper around the painting supplies you had bought for Raine.

“I’m really happy you’re coming for Christmas, you know?” Andrew let out in a dreamy sigh. “I’m glad we can spend the holidays together.”

“I’m glad you invited me. Besides, I could never pass on an opportunity to question John about more humiliating stories about you.”

You both laughed, bright, solar, carefree.

“Perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea, then… but we’ll see Siobhan tomorrow! Which means I get all the juicy stories about my brilliant girlfriend getting trollied while in college…”

“I would like to protest, but it’s a fair payback, and I’m too entertained by your family stories to pass on them.”

You tried to think back of a time before Andrew when you had been as happy, as safe, as yourself than during that simple, quiet afternoon. You couldn’t…

“We need to leave early tomorrow morning,” Andrew went on. “There will be some traffic, and we must get there before noon to help preparing for the feast!”

“I can drive, if you’d like,” you offered. “You can sleep a bit more in the car then.”

“Or I could drive so you can sleep in the car.”

“You could. But you’re the night owl here, who won’t be asleep before 1 a.m. no matter what…”

“Touché,” he chuckled.

“I’ll drive. And I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

“Sure.”

“I’d love to watch a Christmas movie before bed, though. One of the disgustingly cute ones!”

He chuckled, gave you tender smile and a roll of his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you’d like.”

You thought about all your clothes folded with his, in his closet. About all his clothes fitting perfectly in your closet. How there were pictures of the two of you in both your flats, how his smiling face was your lockscreen now, how on your phone he was now called Honey with a red heart next to it to match how he owned yours now.

Sometimes you worried about being betrayed again, about your happiness ending… but then you looked up at him again, caught his hazel eyes with yours and read the love hidden in them. And you knew everything would be fine, somehow.

“Honey?” you called in a whisper.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can you keep on singing?”

He blushed, but couldn’t refrain his grin. And then his voice was back, warm and deep, starting over again.

“Sleigh bells ring, aren’t you listening...”

“Maggie, calm down!”

Andrew was laughing at his tiny cousin’s daughter struggling to put on her coat on her own. The three-years-old was stubborn, and getting frustrated.

Patiently, he crouched by her side, held the coat so she could aim her tiny fist and slip her arm in her sleeve. He pulled up the zipper, readjusted her beanie, helped her with her gloves.

Christ, how could you fall even more in love with him?

“Alright, you’re all set for the snow.”

The little girl jumped up and down excitedly.

“We’re going in the snow!”

“Yes, we are.”

“Can we make a snowman?”

“Of course! We have to make one!”

The girl’s mother, Helen, hurried in the room, a baby in her arms.

“Oh… thanks, Andy!”

He merely smiled, bending to hold the child’s hand. And then he turned to you.

“You’re coming, love?”

He held out his free hand for you, and you easily slipped your fingers in his palm, without thinking, an offering you so easily made every time.

“Alright, we’re going to enjoy the snow, and then we’ll get ready for games!” Helen told her daughter, her young baby boy in her arms.

Meanwhile, John was helping his father cross the hall, his mother in tow, chatting with her sister.

It was a little overwhelming. As one of Andrew’s uncle was starting a conversation with you, it felt overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people, people Andrew loved dearly. It was going well, though. You weren’t surprised to find that people longed to make you feel welcomed, that Andrew was showering you with affection, something proud shining through his smile every time he introduced you to someone new.

The cold bit at your cheeks as you stepped outside the house, hurrying in the garden to help the children build their snowman. You swore revenge when Andrew threw a snowball at you, and maybe it was your terrible aim making you hit one of the cousins instead of your boyfriend that started the fight. You weren’t sure, maybe it was simply one of the children. No matter who started it, you couldn’t stop laughing as you watched Andrew falling over in the snow, and then being showered with snowballs by all the adults present.

When he sat up again, his hair and beard were white with snow.

“So, that’s what you’ll look like when you’re old,” you laughed, offering him an open hand to help him stand again.

“You don’t like my impersonation of Santa?”

“You’re a little skinny, but I’ll give you a B for the effort.”

“How generous, ma’am…”

He gave you a crooked smile, and despite the silliness of the situation, you felt your heart stumbling in your chest at his innuendo.

“Don’t start! We’re with your family!” you admonished in a whisper.

He laughed, let you help him back to his feet. You brushed some snow off him.

“You need to get dry, or you’ll catch your death.”

“I like it when you do that.”

“Do what, honey?”

“Get all… worried about me. When you take care of me.”

You rolled your eyes, but still felt your chest grow warm at his words.

“Well… it’s only fair of me, cause you take really good care of me, too.”

He bent to peck your lips a couple of times, but before he could hold you in his arms again, he was shivering.

The rest of his family was going back to the house anyway, as Maggie was now yelling in excitement.

“GAMES!”

Dinner had turned into quiet conversations. Sitting by your side, Andrew was chatting and laughing with his favourite cousins, while his mother and aunts were busy luring you into the next yearly family gathering.

“We just come together and spend a nice day catching up!” Raine explained.

“Aside from Christmas, it’s the one time of the year when everyone is gathered and we can all be together,” her sister nodded. “You need to come to the next one… we usually plan these around May or June.”

Andrew’s heart was filled with happiness and love as he caught your answer.

“I’d love to,” you nodded.

“And then you need to come every year!” Raine warned you, and you nodded.

“Of course, I’d love to come.”

Andrew’s favourite aunt reached for your hand.

“We like you a lot. You’re a very nice girl, very smart… you and Andy have our blessing.”

Your answer came in an emotional breath.

“Thank you…”

“OI! EVERYONE UP! IT’S NOT EVEN MIDNIGHT AND EVERYBODY’S BORING!”

The sudden voice of his uncle Danny came booming into the living room. Before anyone could argue, he was putting on some music, and soon, most people were dancing.

Not Andrew, of course. He was everything but a dancer, that was not his thing, and he didn’t want to go through any kind of humiliation. Especially not in front of his cousins, who would make sure to remind him of his glorious missteps until his death…

You snuggled closer to him on the couch, wrapping your arm around his, locking your elbow with his.

“Are you okay, my darling?” he asked, voice tender as he dropped a sweet kiss to your temple.

“Yeah… just getting tired.”

“It’ll soon be midnight.”

“Hmm…”

“Are you having a good time? You’re not too overwhelmed?”

“I’m having a really good time. Your family is very nice. Okay, perhaps Finn is a little… boring…”

“He could put any insomniac to sleep in two minutes. Tops.”

You both laughed. But then, the song that was played changed, and he didn’t like the look in your eyes as you looked up at him… he didn’t like it one bit…

“Andy! Come and dance with me!”

“I don’t dance, love…”

“Come on! Or else I’ll have to dance with another lad…”

He rolled his eyes.

“Terrifying thought.”

“Please… please… It’s Christmas… do this for me…”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, and God, he couldn’t resist you. He simply couldn’t…

“Alright, alright…” he grumbled, faking annoyance when he didn’t mind, really. Dancing with you meant being near you, and he welcomed any occasion to be close to you.

You were already singing along to Last Christmas when you took his hands in yours and pulled him into a silly, carefree dance. Your laughter warmed him more than the sun in the heat of summer, the way you looked at him with so much love made him believe in everything good in this world all over again… did you know how much he loved you? How happy you made him? How much better his life was now that you were in it?

“Babe… about that family gathering in spring…”

“Yeah?” you asked, before you would twirl, and land back in his arms with a giggle that spread to his own lips.

“I… I would love for you to come. I… I really want you to come. But if you’re not comfortable, if you don’t want to, I’d understand…”

“I want to come, baby. I want to come.”

You exchanged a pair of bright grins.

“Grand… that’s grand, like…”

He cleared his throat, tried to hide the wave of affection that overtook his senses, made his brain all fuzzy with a happy static.

He sang along too when the next chorus came, laughing at your silly dance and your over-excited singing. You seemed so happy… He was so happy…

“This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special…”

Oh, Andrew had indeed given his heart to someone special, this time around. Someone extraordinary…

Andrew drove you both back to Dublin the next day. In the trunk of his car rested the two piles of books you had offered each other for Christmas. Books you had been excited to read, you were surprised at how accurate his selection had been. But then again, why were you so surprised? Andrew listened.

Your friends and Andrew’s finally arrived. You were glad to see Alex again, he had been off to the West Coast for a few weeks because of work, while you were growing accustomed to spending more time with him. It felt strange to have him away for too long, Andrew and him were too close for that.

“So… what kinds of terrible things has this one done while I was away?” Alex asked you, sipping on a beer, sitting next to you on Andrew’s sofa.

Andrew merely rolled his eyes.

“Nothing too outrageous, I’m afraid,” you laughed. “What about you? What outrageous things have you been up to?”

“Oh… the usual. A bit of drinking, a lot of bass guitar… a lot of working.”

“You’re no craic.”

“Neither are you, Pr. Boring Job.”

“What about your love life? Is it still the Sahara Desert?”

“How dare you? Have you looked at what you settled for?” he asked, nodding towards Andrew, who laughed good-heartedly.

“Oh… you mean, the hottest and smartest guy in the room?”

Andrew gave his friend a bright smirk.

“You were saying, mate?” he teased, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t mind him, he’s deflecting the question,” you reassured your boyfriend, before focusing on Alex again.

He laughed, admitted defeat.

“Yeah… nothing serious happened, at least.”

“You know what your problem is? I think you’re a romantic at heart.”

“Me? You’re the one dating the biggest sap ever born on this island!”

“I think you want to really fall in love before it becoming serious enough to actually date. That’s why you’re always single.”

“Or maybe it’s because of my shitty ex.”

“Hmm… that too,” you nodded, making all three of you laugh. “But you know… maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not looking for love anyway, you’d be wasting your time.”

“If love came when we feel ready, it would be a lot easier than it actually is.”

“You’re talking from experience?” Alex asked, nudging his best friend, who merely shoved him away playfully.

You were about to fight back, when the door rang, and you were too excited to carry on that conversation. Instead, you jumped to your feet, ran to the front door. The second Siobhán saw you, she jumped into your arms.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, it’s been too long!” she complained.

“Yeah, it has… Come on in! I’ll get you a beer.”

“God, I need that… the traffic was awful around Dublin…”

You offered her a drink, introduced her to your friends gathered in Andrew’s apartment, then you invited her to take a seat with you, Andrew and Alex.

“This is Alex, by the way,” you indicated as your friend sat down. “Andy’s best friend.”

They greeted each other, Siobhán warm and Alex a little shy.

But you looked around the room, caught Colm deep in conversation with Rory and his wife, looked at how your world and Andrew’s blended beautifully together. You were a little nervous, but your best friend was no exception, and she fitted into your new bubble of love perfectly. You were surprised at how well she and Alex were getting along, both of them seeming to silently agree to team up to tease you and Andrew endlessly.

When Andrew took your hand in his, gave you a goofy grin, you felt so loved, in this place you called a home, with these people who loved you as much as you loved them.

[cigsaftersuh]

૮ jeno’s sweaty room with jeno ྀིა .ᐟ

prev 𐙚 next

ㅡ my youth, your kitchen.

you were curled up on the edge of jeno’s bed, the blanket he had thrown over you earlier still draped across your shoulders. your phone rested on your lap, the text from earlier weighing heavier than you wanted to admit.

a soft knock pulled your attention away. before you could respond, the door creaked open, and jeno stepped inside, balancing a small plate in one hand.

“hey,” he said softly, stepping inside. “thought you might want some s’mores… and strawberries. we made way too many.”

you looked up as he walked over, setting the plate on the desk. s’mores and chocolate-covered strawberries were neatly arranged, and the sight made you smile despite the lingering weight in your chest.

“thanks,” you said softly, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

jeno leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. “figured you shouldn’t miss out, even if you’re hiding in here.”

“not hiding,” you mumbled, though the corner of your lips tugged up. “just needed a breather.”

jeno shrugged, setting the plate on the desk beside the bed. “you’re missing out on all the chaos out there. thought i’d bring a little of it to you.”

a small laugh escaped you, and you tugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “i appreciate it, really.”

he pulled the chair out from his desk and turned it toward the bed, sitting down with an easy grace. “anytime,” he replied, his tone casual but gentle. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his gaze flicked to your phone.

“everything okay?”

you hesitated, your fingers grazing the edge of the blanket. “just got a text earlier,” you admitted. “kind of threw me off.”

jeno nodded, his gaze steady but understanding. “wanna talk about it?”

“it’s not a big deal,” you said quickly, waving it off even though part of you still felt the weight of it. “just... annoying? i guess.”

jeno nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “still, it’s not fun to deal with.”

you smiled faintly, appreciating how he didn’t press for details. instead, he reached for the plate, holding it out to you. “here. chocolate fixes everything”

you took a s’more, the marshmallow still warm. “thanks.”

“it’s way too loud out there anyway,” he said, nodding toward the door. “renjun and mark are still arguing about marshmallows. haechan’s just adding fuel to the fire. classic.”

you smiled faintly, the mental image pulling you out of your thoughts a little. “sounds like them.”

jeno’s lips quirked up. “jaemin’s pretending he’s above it all, but he’s been stealing s’mores when they’re not looking.”

“he would,” you said, laughing softly.

for a few moments, the two of you ate in comfortable silence. the faint laughter and voices from the living room filtering through the closed door, but it felt far away compared to the comfort of jeno’s room.

“so,” he said after a moment, leaning back in his chair, “you feeling any better? or do i need to make you another plate of s’mores?”

you smiled, shaking your head. “this is plenty. and yeah, i’m feeling a little better.”

“good,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “i’d hate for our s’mores night to be ruined.”

“well, you’re doing a great job of saving it,” you teased, taking another bite of your s’more.

jeno laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the blanket wrapped around you. “you’re seriously cold? it’s not even that chilly.”

you shrugged. “i get cold easily.”

“noted,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful. “next time, we’ll just build a fire inside.”

“thank you” you joked, and he laughed again.

you glanced at him, noticing the way his smile lingered even after the laughter faded. he looked comfortable, his posture relaxed, like he had nowhere else to be but here.

“you don’t have to stay, you know,” you said, though part of you hoped he would.

jeno raised a brow. “what, and leave you here to overthink? not a chance.”

“i’m not overthinking,” you protested, though you couldn’t help but smile.

“sure you’re not,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “but just in case, i’ll stick around.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue. instead, you set your empty plate on the desk and shifted under the blanket, the warmth finally starting to sink in.

“so,” you said, breaking the silence, “what’s the verdict on the marshmallow debate out there?”

jeno groaned, running a hand through his hair. “don’t even get me started. renjun thinks he’s some kind of marshmallow expert or something.”

you laughed softly. “he does take his s’mores seriously.”

“too seriously,” jeno said, shaking his head. “mark and jisung are just trying to toast one without setting it on fire, and haechan’s... well, being haechan.”

“so, chaos,” you said, smiling.

“the usual,” he replied, grinning.

for a while, the two of you talked about everything and nothing — renjun’s marshmallow lectures, mark’s accidental disasters, and the ridiculous things chenle always managed to say. the conversation felt easy, like you’d known him much longer than a day.

at some point, you realized you weren’t thinking about the text anymore. instead, you were focused on the way jeno’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he leaned forward slightly when he was telling a story, like he couldn’t help but get caught up in it.

“thanks, jeno,” you said suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

he blinked, caught off guard. “for what?”

“for this,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “for staying and making me feel better.”

his expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on you. “anytime,” he said simply, and you knew he meant it.

you smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading as the laughter from the living room carried on outside. for now, you were content right here, in the comforting presence of jeno’s room, with him by your side.

with love,

© cigsaftersuh

ʚ taglist - open ɞ

@t-102 @niniiflwr @dudekiss3r @defzcl @stqrgr7 @imalwaysjeno @jeongjaeleftbicep @rubiiisyeon @jae10velies @cookydream @222low @dearlyminhyung @mmjhh1998 @gukuwii @hyucksunset @chenlesfeetpic @urlocalbeaner5 @taeeflwrr @fullhyucksunny @hyuksworld @nmmsmari @jeonghansshitester @hyuckleberriii @yukisroom97 @zgzgzh @tannieflix @olladecaramelos @haelvrty @nujeskz @kukkurookkoo @remgeolli

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part — 15 | 16 | 17

masterlist

the three of you found yourselves settled into the transfer bus after retrieving your luggage — a sleek, black car with leather seats and a defining dotted with tiny, star-like lights. the driver was an older man; hair white, face wrinkled and a clear lack of personality. he remained silent for the duration of the journey, his presence as unremarkable as the hum of the engine.

rafe had taken the seat directly across from you. the layout of the car featured two rows of seats facing each others making the proximity unavoidable. sarah sat close beside you, leaning into your side — her long slumber on the plane still having after effects.

“once we’ve unpacked,” she murmured softly, her voice was barely above a whisper in your ear, “i need to head to my dress rehearsal. is that okay?”

dramatically, you ket out a mock sigh, your tone exaggerated as you groaned, “ugh, so i’m stuck alone with rafe? what did i do to deserve this?”

amused by your dramatics, sarah let out a laugh, her head tilting against your shoulder slightly.

“hey, don’t sound so disappointed. we’ll have a great time, sweetheart,” rafe interjected with a prominent smirk on his face, his tone smooth and suggestive, but — luckily — sarah didn’t catch on to the meaning behind his words.

you shot a hard scowl in his direction. half of you was annoyed because he was spiriting dangerously close to exposing your secret. the other hand was furious at the continuation of this game he kept playing with you.

you were supposed to be just friends.

he’d said so himself.

your close friends’ story

sarah cameron replied to your story

oh this dress rehearsal better hurry UP!

rafecam replied to your story

orrrrr you could make love to me instead… while you wait for sarah ofc

johnbr replied to your story

do i get a say in this?

305. that was the room you were sharing with sarah. while rafe was down the hall, in 306.

your room featured a king-sized bed dressed in crisp linen sheets, it’s wooden headboard adding a rustic charm. floor-length curtains framed the window, concealing the beautiful view of california below. the bathroom was nothing short of stunning, with sage-green tiles complemented by gold accents. a spacious shower, stocked with every essential, and a perfectly placed window — ideal for selfie taking — completed the luxurious space.

you hadn’t even been here an hour, and already rafe’s antics had begun…

your phone

a/n: teehee, going to make my chapters longer from now on!

i’m just a sucker for a cliffhanger…

taglist: @my-name-is-baby @yesshewrites1 @urbrunettebombshell @leather-n-velvet @fruitcakerafe @littlefreak-liz @wdwbts101 @akobx @lossfairy @marleymarleymarleymarley @jjmaybankmylovee @mbella607 @scream4mami @mrsdrewstarkeyy @honeyluvsatj

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 2

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, bickering, mention of toxic relationship, aftermath of a toxic relationship, arguments, tension

I step carefully through the wreckage of my apartment, trying to see what’s salvageable so I could have a few things to live out of, staying with the triplets. Most of my things are either smashed, torn, or covered in a fine layer of dirt and glass shards. Ethan didn’t just take his belongings, he left destruction in his wake.

I sigh, kneeling down to inspect what’s left. A lot of it can be replaced, I tell myself. Furniture, dishes, even the picture frames, it’s all just stuff. But as I rummage through the mess, a sinking feeling sets in. Something’s missing.

My heart races as I scan the countertop near the bathroom. I dig through drawers, lift pillows off the bed, and even check the edge of the shower where I remember setting it.

“My locket..” I whisper.

The small, gold locket my grandfather gave me before he passed. Engraved with his writing, something I felt always brought me good luck. I only take it off to shower, but this morning, in the rush of everything, I forgot to put it back on after. Now, it’s gone.

I stand still, gripping the edge of the sink. Of all the things Ethan could have taken or destroyed, why this? I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, but the loss feels heavier than the rest of the chaos combined.

“Y/n?” Nick’s voice snaps me back to reality.

“I’m almost done” I call back, my voice cracking slightly.

“We’ll wait in the car, take your time.” Nick says, as the three of them leave my apartment.

I grab my suitcase, throwing in whatever clothes and keepsakes I can save. My heart aches as I step over broken memories, knowing I’ll never feel at home here again.

As I walk out of the apartment, I take one last glance at the space that used to be mine. Now it’s just a reminder of what I’ve lost, and what I need to leave behind.

Outside, I see the triplets waiting in Chris’s car. Chris is leaning against the driver’s door, scrolling on his phone. Matt is in the passenger seat, looking like he couldn’t care less about the situation. Nick spots me and jogs over, taking the suitcase from my hand without saying a word.

“You okay?” Nick asks softly.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Chris looks up as Nick loads my suitcase into the trunk. “You sure you’ve got everything?”

“Yeah..” I reply, forcing a weak smile, wanting to grab the empty space on my chest where my locket would’ve lay, knowing the one thing I promised to never lose, is now gone.

Matt lets out an exaggerated sigh as I climb into the backseat. “Thank god, I’m still starving.”

The drive to their house is tense. Chris hums along to the radio, Nick tries to lighten the mood by cracking a few jokes, and Matt stays silent, occasionally scrolling on his phone. I stare out the window, trying to focus on anything but the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. But for now, I had no choice but to figure out how to move forward.

We pull into the garage of the triplets’ house, a place I’ve been to more times than I can count. Between my friendship with Nick and working with Chris, this house isn’t unfamiliar territory. The three story house is a place full of energy, chaos, and, right now, tension.

Chris parks the car, and I step out, clutching my suitcase in one hand. Nick is already out of the car and at the door, holding it open for me like the good friend he is, while Matt trails behind us, dragging his feet like he’s walking to his own execution.

“You know where everything is” Nick says as he ushers me inside.

I step inside, suitcase in hand, the stairs creaking slightly as I lug my suitcase up to the main living area. Chris floated off into his bedroom on the way in, and Matt made comfort for himself on the couch. From there, I follow Nick up the next flight to the top level of the house. My new “room” is just outside Nick’s.

The podcast room, or what used to be the podcast room, is a tiny square area tucked at the end of the top of the stairs. The artificial walls are still standing, flimsy and paper thin, painted in mismatched shades of white, pink, and turquoise. It’s like stepping into a DIY project someone abandoned halfway through. The floor is covered in black and white checkered lino, glaringly out of place against the rest of the house.

“It’s not the Ritz” Nick says, scratching the back of his neck, “but we can make it work. I’ll help you get set up.”

“No it’s fine, I appreciate it” I reply, offering a small smile. “You’re saving my ass right now.”

I drop my suitcase on the floor and glance around. The space is.. A space. Let’s go with that. It doesn’t have a door, just an open entrance directly leading to the stairs, and Nick’s bedroom door opposite me, but I can’t exactly complain. I knew this was a temporary solution.

Nick gestures to the far corner. “We can fit a bed over there, maybe a little shelf or something for your stuff. I’ll start looking for furniture now.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

He grins. “What are best friends for?”

I glance at the walls, noticing faint pencil marks where posters and soundproofing foam used to be. The room is oddly quiet, considering how thin walls are, I know on a day to day basis they aren’t much of a barrier, but they’ll give me some semblance of privacy.

I roll my suitcase over to the corner and I unzip it, beginning to pull out my toiletries, placing them on the floor beside me as I try to figure out the best way to organize everything. Toothbrush, toothpaste, skincare stuff, my shampoo and conditioner.

“Uh, Nick?” I call out, glancing over my shoulder at him. “I’m not really sure where to put my toiletries. Using your bathroom would mean I’d be going in and out of your room all the time, and that could get pretty inconvenient.. especially if you’re asleep or something.”

Nick tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that might get a little awkward. You could always use Matt’s bathroom, I mean it’s not in his room, and everyone uses it anyway.”

I freeze for a second, side eyeing Nick. “Matt’s bathroom?”

“Yeah” Nick says, as if it’s the simplest solution in the world. “It’s easier, and you won’t have to tiptoe around me.”

I glance down at the stairs knowing Matt’s down there, already dreading how this conversation is going to go. As if on cue, Matt’s voice echoes from somewhere below. “Wait what?”

Nick leans over the railing. “I said Y/n could use your bathroom since it’s easier. It’s not a big deal.”

Matt appears at the bottom of the stairs, his expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Why does it have to be my bathroom? You’ve got one. Chris has one.”

“Because it’s not in anyone’s bedroom” Nick explains to him. “And it’s right down the stairs.”

Matt runs a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed.

I sigh, standing at the top of the stairs, crossing my arms. “Look, I’ll keep my stuff out of the way, and I won’t use it when you’re in there. It’s not like I’m going to live in your bathroom.”

Matt narrows his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Feels like it.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic. It’s not like she’s going to redecorate your shower.”

I shoot Matt a pointed look. “Believe me, this is just as awkward for me as it is for you. But I’m not exactly drowning in options right now.”

Matt throws his hands up. “Fine. But if my stuff goes missing or gets moved, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “You’ll survive, Matt. Trust me.”

Matt mutters something under his breath before heading back to sit on the couch. I turn to Nick, who just shrugs with a lopsided smile.

“Don’t worry about him” Nick says. “He’ll get over it. Eventually.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Yeah, let’s hope that happens sooner rather than later.”

Deciding that keeping my toiletries in my little makeshift room for now is the safest bet, I arrange them neatly in the corner. I’ll just grab what I need when I need it and take them down to Matt’s bathroom individually. No reason to make this situation worse, or give Matt another excuse to complain.

Nick, still leaning against the doorframe of his own room, looks up from his phone. “I just checked some spots online for a bed. Macy’s has a decent one we can go pick up today.”

Matt, who’s clearly eavesdropping from the couch below, calls out, “I’m not driving. Ask Chris.”

“You’re so helpful, Matt. Seriously.” Nick yells down the stairs.

I sigh, standing up. “It’s fine, I’ll go ask Chris.”

Leaving Nick and Matt to bicker, I head down the stairs to the bottom floor of the house where Chris’s room is. His door is slightly ajar, so I knock lightly. “Chris?”

No response. I push the door open a little more, peeking inside. Chris is sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep, with one arm draped over his eyes. His phone is charging on the nightstand, and a half empty bottle of pepsi sits next to it.

For a moment, I debated whether I should wake him up. I decided against it since I’ve just moved into the place, the last thing I want to do is make demands or step on anyone's toes. 

I turn on my heel to walk back up the stairs, Nick and Matt still bickering in the distance, I hesitate at the bottom, my hand gripping the banister tightly as I hear Matt's voice. His tone is sharp, laced with irritation.

“I just don’t get why she has to live here” he hisses, clearly unaware that I’m within earshot. “Like, does she not have any other friends?”

My stomach twists at his words, and my steps slow, barely making a sound.

“She does, Matt.” Nick retorts, his voice firm. “But she’s also my best friend, and I’m sure Chris would consider her one of his too. This will also make things easier for them both for work purposes. Like you’re the only one with an issue here.”

I stay frozen in place, torn between storming up there and pretending I didn’t hear a thing.

“Yeah” Matt scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “and I bet Chris only gave her the job because he wants to smash.”

His comment lands like a punch to the gut, my heart sinking. I stand there, gripping the railing, trying to push away the sting of his words.

Nick lets out a frustrated sigh. “Seriously, Matt? That’s low, even for you. Chris gave her the job because she’s good at it, and you know it. Maybe if you actually got to know her instead of acting like an ass all the time, you’d see that too.”

There’s a brief silence, and I think about heading back to Chris’s room to avoid hearing any more, but my feet feel glued to the spot.

Matt’s voice cuts through the pause. “Whatever, man. Just don’t expect me to be all buddy buddy with her. She’s your friend, not mine.”

I take a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. I’ve always known Matt and I didn’t get along, but hearing him talk about me like that feels different.

Determined not to let them see how much it affected me, I make my way up the stairs, forcing my steps to sound casual. As I approach, Nick glances over his shoulder at me, his expression softening into something apologetic. Matt doesn’t even look my way, his jaw set and his arms crossed.

“Chris is asleep” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I didn’t want to wake him.”

Nick sighs, pushing himself up from where he was leaning against the wall. “Alright, guess that leaves us with Plan B.”

Matt immediately looks skeptical. “What’s Plan B?”

“You.” Nick says as if that was a stupid thing to ask.

Matt groans, his head tipping back dramatically. “Are you serious? Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you’re here, you have a car, and Chris is asleep” Nick counters, folding his arms. “Stop being difficult and help.”

Matt looks between the two of us, his jaw tightening. “Fine” he finally says, his tone clipped. “But if I’m driving, you both owe me food, since I never got it earlier..”

Nick smirks. “Deal.”

“And I’m not spending hours out here either, I’ve places to be later.” Matt says firmly, as he grabs his keys.

Nick, already halfway down the stairs, doesn’t even look back. "Relax, Matt. Looking for bedding isn’t going to make you miss your date later."

I glance at Matt, who scowls, his expression hardening even further. "Good. Because I’m not ditching plans to play chauffeur."

“Yeah, yeah, we get it” Nick says with a dismissive wave as we step outside toward the car.

I follow behind, trying to suppress my irritation at Matt’s attitude, silently wishing this entire situation didn’t feel so awkward, and I didn’t overhear that conversation.

As we climb in to the car, I silently promise myself I’ll try to stay out of Matt’s way as much as possible. If only it were that easy.

a/n: my sleep pattern is FUCKED so parts might be all over the place

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Back home p.20

Hii guyss, if you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist and if you missed part 19, here it is.

Your life in Monaco was idyllic, growing up alongside the Leclercs. But everything changes when you're forced to leave. Now, returning to the place you once called home, you're confronted with a dilemma: not one, but two Leclerc brothers vying for your heart. Old bonds and unresolved emotions collide-what will you do when the past and present merge in unexpected ways?

The morning after discovering the slashed tires on Charles's Ferrari was nothing short of chaotic. Charles had been frustrated but surprisingly calm, arranging for a tow truck while reassuring you that he’d get it handled. However, the day took another downward turn when Charles’s phone started buzzing nonstop. His number had been leaked online, and fans and strangers alike were bombarding him with messages and calls.

As if that weren’t enough, a rumor started circulating that Charles had been involved with another girl—completely fabricated but enough to draw unwarranted attention. The universe seemed determined to test both of you, but despite everything, Charles remained steady, his hand constantly finding yours whenever he saw you begin to spiral.

“Hey,” he said softly as you sat on the couch that evening, your knees tucked to your chest. He crouched in front of you, his green eyes searching yours. “We’ll get through this. Together. I promise.”

His voice, calm and reassuring, was a lifeline. You nodded, reaching out to cup his cheek. “I know. It’s just… a lot.”

“I know it is,” he said, pressing a kiss to your palm. “But no matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Okay?”

You nodded again, this time with a small smile. Charles had a way of making the world feel a little less heavy, even when everything seemed to be falling apart.

After the day’s whirlwind of events—you both decided a change of scenery was exactly what you needed. When Pascale had invited you for dinner earlier in the week, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to relax and reconnect with someone who always radiated warmth and positivity.

By the time that evening rolled around, things had calmed down somewhat, and you found yourself heading to Charles’s mom’s house for dinner. Pascale had been thrilled when Charles told her the two of you were together and had insisted on hosting you both.

The moment you walked through the door, Pascale enveloped you in a warm hug. “Oh, mon ange, I’m so happy for you two,” she said, her smile radiant.

“Thank you, Pascale,” you said, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

“I always knew,” she said, pulling back to look at you both. “Since you were kids, I could tell there was something special between you.”

Charles laughed, his arm sliding around your waist. “You’re just saying that now because you’re happy we’re together.”

“No, I mean it!” Pascale said, wagging a finger at him. “A mother knows these things.”

As the evening progressed, the three of you shared stories and laughed over old memories. Pascale had made your favorite dish, and the warmth of her home wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

At one point, Pascale turned to you with a curious smile. “So, how has it been so far? Dating my son?”

Charles started to answer, but you noticed the way his lips parted and the slight tension in his jaw. He was about to bring up Arthur.

Quickly, you interrupted. “It’s been wonderful,” you said, giving Charles a pointed look before turning back to Pascale. “He’s so thoughtful and sweet. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.”

Charles blinked at you but didn’t press, instead slipping his hand into yours under the table and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Pascale beamed. “I’m so glad to hear that. You deserve to be happy, both of you.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the rest of the evening was filled with laughter and love. Before you left, Pascale insisted on taking a picture of the three of you, which she handed to you later, saying, “Post this one. The world should know how happy you two are.”

Back at Charles’s apartment later that night, you posted the photo Pascale had taken. In it, you stood between Charles and his mom, all three of you beaming. The caption read, Family dinners are the best ❤️.

It didn’t take long for the likes and comments to start flooding in, with fans gushing over how adorable the picture was. You set your phone down, smiling as Charles came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You think mom is already planning our wedding?” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“She wouldn’t be Pascale if she weren’t,” you joked back, leaning into him.

The moment felt perfect, a brief respite from the chaos of the past few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur was staring at the same Instagram post in his room. His jaw tightened as he scrolled through the comments, many of them praising how happy you and Charles looked together.

“Family dinners,” he muttered under his breath, his grip on his phone tightening.

A flicker of jealousy burned in his chest, twisting into something darker. It wasn’t just about Charles stealing the girl he had feelings for—it was about Charles always winning, always coming out on top.

Setting his phone down, Arthur stared out the window, his mind racing. The possessiveness he felt wasn’t rational, and he knew it. But that didn’t stop the gnawing sense of injustice that Charles had taken something else that was supposed to be his.

For now, he stayed quiet, but the storm brewing in his mind was far from over.

Tag list: @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @janeh22, @victoriaholland, @abq654, @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @anaferreira-4, @larastark3107, @itgirlofthecenturysposts, @boherahpsody, @iamkaku, @jz12, @boherahpsody, @urfavouritef1girly, @meglouise00, @charlesgirl16, @a-beaverhausen, @lol6sposts, @linnygirl09, @weekendlusting

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Before you can even think it through, you’re tossing your jacket over Sevika’s lap and shooting her the nastiest glare when she tries to remove it. For the first time since you’ve met her, she cowers. Yes, she had shrunken when she’d apologized yesterday, but she still had an air of cockiness about her. Now, there’s no fight left in her; she simply hangs her head and remains still. Assured she won’t move, you hop to your feet and rush to King’s saddlebags in order to dig out the first aid kit. Gripping it but not yet bringing it out into the open, you look over at Jinx and make eye contact with her.

“Get the kid out of here. Sevika and I will stay back to make sure nothing’s going to come out of the pit, but that kid shouldn’t be here if something does,” you order her in the sternest voice you can manage.

Jinx opens her mouth to argue and shuts it just as quickly, nibbling on her lip. Her head nods in a jerky motion as she glances from the pit to Sevika to the kid and back to you. “If you’re sure – Sevika looks a little wobbily. Might be good to take her and the kid back first; let Ekko and me doublecheck the hole and all.”

“The kid’s scared. The last thing she needs is for Sevika to take a turn for the worse on the ride back; it’ll only scare her. She needs someone strong and dependable right now –“ you walk around King, holding the first aid kit in one hand and placing your other hand on Jinx’s shoulder. You give her your best reassuring smile – “We’ll be right behind you; I swear it. It’s not my first rodeo out in the apocalypse.”

“Right – right – shit. Okay; however, if you’re not back an hour after we ride into town, I’m coming back out to get you. So, don’t go snogging against the tree like Sevika’s dying or anything –“ Jinx pulls a face, sticking out her tongue and screwing her eyes shut – “I don’t want to catch you tonguing Leftie like a pair of teenagers in the back of my dads’ bar.”

“No promises,” you joke, flicking the tip of Jinx’s nose. “Now, get outta here. That kid needs a hot meal, not field rations.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep her safe,” Ekko promises, helping Isha onto his horse. He sits her in front of himself, holding her securely as she grips his arm with white knuckles.

You can see that she’s shaking in the cold air of the mountain, used to the humid, hot climate of the bunker. Walking over to the side of Ekko’s horse, you take off your flannel and wrap it around the girl’s shoulders, bundling her up tightly. It’s far too big on her, even as she puts her arms through the sleeves, but she relaxes a little nonetheless, and that’s more than enough.

“Hey, kiddo, you be good for Ekko and Jinx, okay? They’ll keep you safe. You’re about to see a lot of people – don’t worry, they’re all friendly, even scary ones. Sevika and I will be along as soon as we’re able,” you reassure her, readjusting her miner’s hat so it doesn’t stab Ekko in the gut on accident.

The girl nods her head furiously, signing for you to stay safe. You smile softly and nod your head, signing back that you promise.

You watch as the trio rides off, waiting until they’re out of sight before turning back to Sevika. She’s breathing heavily, still staring at her leg, yet having left your jacket covering it. Delicately, you pull the jacket back and wince at the mess of blood and puss. Your jacket is tossed to the side, to be washed or thrown away back in town. For now, you need to assess the damage. Pouring some whiskey onto a cloth – okay, this definitely was not ideal. You understand that most drugstores are raided by now, but even in the 1800s, this wasn’t as effective as it is made out to be. Unfortunately, you lack a better alternative, so the whiskey will have to do.

Doing your best to meet Sevika’s gaze (an impossible feat given that she’s hanging her head), you whisper: “I’m sorry, Sev’; this is going to hurt like Hell.”

She barely grunts at you, making your heart sink in your chest. Lacking the ability to comfort her, you focus on doing what you can for her. She nearly screams as you pour the whiskey over her leg and rub it clean with the cloth. A hand flies up and grips your shoulder, trembling so hard she can barely keep a firm hold. You let her keep the hand there as you straddle her leg, peering at the wound. The teeth definitely pierced the skin, sinking in far enough to have spread the shimmer infection to her; however, beyond the bitemark, you can’t find the tell-tale signs of shimmer. The bite lacks the ever-present purple veins that typically snake away from the injury, spreading the infection’s hold. Furrowing your brow, you pull and press and wipe at her thigh, trying to find any sign of infection. Instead, you find thin, white veins similar to the ones on dead infected – shimmer loses all colouration when its host body is killed.

“Huh, that’s weird,” you mumble to yourself, pressing against the wound. It spurts out a small bit of blood, but no purple puss synonymous with infection.

Sevika hisses in pain, growling out: “The fuck you on about? I’m dying – I ain’t no science experiment for your journals.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what I’m wondering… you see these here?” you ask, pointing to the white veins.

“Yeah, what about ‘em? Mean the infection’s spread so fast I’ll turn into one of those freaks or some shit?” Sevika spits out, getting more defensive by the moment.

“No, I don’t think so. It looks like… your body is actually fighting the infection. Shimmer only turns white when the host is killed – the infection dies without nutrients. These shouldn’t be white, they should be purple,” you explain your findings, tilting your head up to look her in the eyes.

Sevika finally meets your gaze, her eyes wet and terrified as she searches your face for some kind of answer. Your heart plummets further in your chest, begging you to find some way to comfort her. You may have found your bravery in the face of this horror, yet that doesn’t mean she has done the same. This once proud woman has been reduced to nothing more than a terrified girl in the middle of a hostile forest. You want nothing more than to reach forward and wrap her into a tight hug, but her leg needs to be bandaged now – it has been exposed to the world far too long.

“So, what are you saying? That I’m – am I dying? Am I dead? Is this it? Am I just dying faster than I should be?” her voice trembles and wavers, on the brink of tears.

Dropping the cloth into the first aid kit, you grab her face, cradling it between her hands. “Hey, hey, look at me. I never said that. You’re not dying. I promise you, you’re not dying. This is – this is good. I think you might be okay. Maybe? I’m not a doctor, but this isn’t textbook. Any normal person would have died from being bit the first time, yet you survived – granted, by amputating your arm, yet you survived. What if Shimmer works like chickenpox: get it once, your body develops antibodies, and you’re immune? The only problem is surviving the infection. Let me bandage your leg, we’ll go back to town, and we can go to Singed. He might know what to do?”

Sevika’s gaze snaps to you, eyes wide as she grips your wrist: “No. No Singed. Let’s just… if you’re right, how about we wait it out? I’ll hole up in my house for a few days, claim that I’m traumatized from this patrol or some shit.”

“Okay, okay, no Singed. I can do that. Just promise me, you’re not writing yourself off yet. You’ve still got a chance – I still believe you’ve got a chance. Please, promise me you’ll try to survive?” you ask, swallowing the tremble in your voice. You will yourself to stay strong right now – just one last push, then you can break down once you’re home.

“As long as you promise to finish the job if I don’t.” Sevika’s words strike you through the chest, chilling you to your core. You’re not sure if it came to it that you could pull the trigger… but you know you’d have to, in the end. Too many people would try to do something rash to save her when she’s far past the point of saving. She doesn’t need a saviour; she needs mercy – as much as you’re able to muster, even when you’re dealt the worst cards.

“I promise,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss her before you can stop yourself. Your lips yearn to press against hers, to deepen the promise. Until you catch yourself at the last moment and settle for resting your forehead against hers instead. “I promise, Sevika.”

“I’ll try not to hold you to that,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb against your wrist. It’s the closest you’ll get to a promise, yet comforting nonetheless.

For a long moment, you stare into her eyes, comforted by how her gaze slowly hardens into something stronger. You brush a tear gently away from her cheek, hearing a heavy sigh rumble from her chest. She leans forward in your hands and presses a kiss to your cheek, slowly and deliberately, keeping her eyes closed as she pulls her head back. Your heart swims in your chest, hammering away as it screams at you to kiss her back – a plea which you ignore. When she opens her eyes, they are no longer cloudy with fear and doubt, and you know you have said all you can to reassure her. The sturdy walls that protect her have been rebuilt, and before you sits the same gruff woman who had found you in those ruins nearly a week ago.

“Let’s get you bandaged up and home. We’ve probably got something in the cupboards I can whip up for dinner. Maybe soup or mac and cheese. Which would you prefer?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood as you pull back from her.

“This’ll hurt, won’t it?” she grunts as you reposition yourself on her lower leg.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, reaching for the bandages.

Sevika nods her head, bracing herself as you wind the bandages around her leg. You have to cut away the rest of her pant leg in order to fully bandage the bite. It needs stitches, but you don’t have the equipment or sterile field out here for them, meaning you have to get her back to town as soon as she’s able to be moved. Sevika still hisses when you press the gauze against it, tensing under your hands as she tries not to flinch away and ruin your hard work. The wound has stopped bleeding for the moment, although it will probably open getting Sevika astride Duchess. Trying to allow it time to close up, you survey the area to ensure no more infected remain. You let Sevika sit by the tree, cradling her shotgun.

Eventually, when there is no sign of infected and you can’t wait any longer lest it grow dark, you help Sevika onto Duchess. She valiantly tries not to make you worry, biting her lip as she shifts uncomfortably in her saddle. You pat her unbitten thigh gently, attempting to reassure her.

“Don’t worry, Sev’. You’re going to be okay. If you were infected, you’d already be halfway through your rations by now,” you say, smiling up at her.

“Right,” Sevika grunts, hand twitching on Duchess’ reigns. “You will keep your promise – if I am, I mean – right?”

“You can trust me,” you say solemnly, squeezing her thigh before letting go. “We should get back before Jinx comes looking for us.”

Sevika nods her head in agreement. You mount King and turn him around, heading back the way you came. Someone else can finish the patrol tomorrow; you need to get Sevika home and warm in case everything starts to go sideways. Hopefully, Silco and Vander will understand the risk you’re taking. If not, you might end up friendless and alone once more…

Regardless of the consequences, you have to try. You owe Sevika that much, at least.

~~ /// ~~~

Zaun is as busy as ever when you ride back into town. Luckily, it means no one pays you a second glance as you help Sevika limp through sideroads and alleys back to her house. She leans heavily on you, arm wrapped around your shoulders, pained noises escaping her intermittently. Your heart sinks each time, desperately wanting to give her something for the pain, yet having nothing to offer. Any alcohol you had was drunk on the way back to dull her senses as Duchess jostled her in the saddle, and you left your weed sitting on the desk in your bedroom. All you can do is mutter apologies profusely, pushing her to move faster until you finally reach her backyard.

The gate is stuck in its treads, taking both of you to force it open. Once it does, you help her limp to the porch and inside. She drops onto her couch heavily, groaning as she shoves her foot onto the other armrest. You let her rest for a moment, grabbing a bottle of mead and two glasses from the kitchen. You pour both, setting one in her hand and the other on the coffee table with the bottle.

“Here, drink this and rest. I’m going to go take a shower, then I’ll pour you a bath and get your leg stitched up,” you say, peering at her bandages. The blood has stained the majority of the white cloth – you’re going to need to take a quick shower.

“I’ll try not to go anywhere,” Sevika grunts, and you blink down at her.

“Did… you just crack a joke?”

“Yeah, is that not allowed? Allow a dying woman a joke or two, jeez,” she grumbles, taking a swig of her drink.

“That’s – I – I’m just surprised, Sev’. I think all this alcohol is starting to make you delirious,” you giggle, running your fingers through her sweat-slicked hair.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, taking another sip. “Go have your shower before I bleed out.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she says nonchalantly, drink glass on her chest. Yet, you feel her hand drop to hold yours as you pull away, her fingertips chasing you until you’re too far to muster the effort. A spoken plea for you to stay that breaks your heart as you climb the stairs.

Your shower is quick – if you can even call it a shower. You barely scrub shampoo through your hair, wash the dirt off your body and give yourself a quick rinse downstairs. It’s not like you can’t shower again tomorrow. After nine years of caked-on grime, you have adjusted admirably to the feeling of dirt under your nails, so much so that it doesn’t even phase you. You really only had a shower to wash the blood out of your hair. Clean(er) clothes feel wonderful against your skin – a tank top, no bra and a pair of sleep shorts. Clothes you had grabbed at the start of the apocalypse, when department stores still had all the fun garments, as a little luxury for yourself. There are tiny flowers printed in various rainbow colours all across the shorts, and the ties dangle against your thighs in the world’s laziest bunny ears.

You run the bath before fetching Sevika, who is exactly where you’d left her, except now with a finished glass. She stares out the window as the street goes dark and the stars come out to play. Her face is melancholic as if she’s resigned herself to infection, and that simply won’t do.

Rounding the couch, you down your glass in one swig (a task far easier to do given that mead is sweet, like cold tea). Then, you lean over her and take her glass away, setting it on the table. Her eyes follow you as you grab her wrist and attempt to pull her up. She sits up slowly, letting you think you had pulled her up yourself.

“Come on, Sev’, you need a bath,” you chirp, looping her arm around your neck. “Then you can fall asleep in your nice warm bed with a belly full of dinner. I’m thinking a can of soup; don’t know if I have the energy to go to the grocery store and get something fancy today.”

“Grocery store’s probably closed anyway,” Sevika sighs, stumbling up the stairs with your help.

“You would know – since you’ve lived here longer than I have, that is. I didn’t know if you liked bubble baths, but I do, so I added some to the bath for you. It’ll help disinfect your leg since soap kills germs. I only wish we had some music for you. My headphones died years ago, and there aren’t enough batteries left in the world to keep the shitty Walkman I found alive either,” you ramble, trying to fill the silence as you reach the bathroom and help her inside.

“I’ve got a radio, it’s… upstairs. On the dresser,” Sevika mumbles, ducking her head and refusing to meet your gaze.

“Sev’, you told me not to go up there. I won’t break your trust just because I think baths are better with music,” you backpedal. This is probably a test to see if you can remember her boundaries even while she’s injured, and you do not want to fail.

“I’m tellin’ you to go get it,” she grunts, sitting on the edge of the tub and testing the water with her hand. “And a clean pair of clothes – just don’t go snooping around up there.

“Right – okay – sure,” you stammer, blushing a little. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to leave her in the bathroom alone in case she slips and falls getting into the tub. But the hard glare she fixes you with jolts energy through your body (maybe a little too well if the wet spot forming between your legs is any indication), and you bolt out of the room.

You don’t even realize you’re headed upstairs until you’re standing in the middle of Sevika’s room, blinking owlishly at the space around you. There are old posters on the walls of various bands, movies and art pieces. In the far back of the loft sits a queen-sized bed with a hundred different blankets on it, barely made up. A book sits on the nightstand; the cover is too faded to make out the title. A few LEGO sets sit in the corner on a shelf, clothes are strewn across the floor, and two dressers proudly display a wide array of trinkets, from an incomplete Dune series to a couple of ratty plushies to a collection of framed photographs that appear to be of the Last Drop from the old world. Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi and Sevika stand outside its doors, underneath a Grand Opening sign, with two other kids that you can’t recongize. Likely Milo and Clagger – the young boys Sevika mentioned when she told you about her arm. Next to the photographs sits an old boombox, with a few cassette tapes. You grab the first one without looking and open a few drawers on the dresser until you’re holding a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Then, you scamper back downstairs to the bathroom.

Knocking on the bathroom door, you wait until she says you can come in. Sevika has sunk into the bathtub, bubbles covering her chest as she lounges back, eyes partially closed. You can still see her gear tattoos and the white scars that snake across her skin from where her arm was amputated. Her brow is furrowed in pain, her arm under the water, most likely gripping her leg. You wish you had something to give her to ease the pain, but this far into the apocalypse, medicine is sparse at best. Slowly, her gaze levels you, and she arches one eyebrow, doing her best not to appear weak.

“I grabbed you something to wear, and a random tape off the dresser,” you blurt out.

“Plug it in over there,” she grunts, pointing to a nearby outlet. Right, power – you had forgotten they had that!

You hastily plug the boombox in, put the cassette in the top, and turn it on. The slowest, saddest love song starts to play out of the speakers, and you stare in horror at the melancholic music. Glancing at the tape, you see a bunch of hearts doodled on the top instead of an actual name for the tape.

“I swear, I just grabbed the first tape I saw!” you squeak, face flushed red. You sneak a glance at Sevika and find her face bright red in embarrassment, refusing to meet your gaze.

You fucked up – oh, you fucked up bad.

You set the clothes down on top of the toilet quickly, staring at the floor as you manage to say: “I’m going to leave you alone now – I’ll be down the hall, so just yell if you need me. I can get you another tape if you –“

She grabs your hand and tugs you until your knees hit against the tub. You will yourself not to flinch, heart hammering in your chest.

“Can you… stay? I don’t – I don’t want to die alone,” she asks the bubbles, her voice barely above a whisper. The music nearly drowns it out.

“Oh,” you breathe, the fear in her voice settling into your bones. “Yeah, I can stay.”

You want to reassure her that she’s not dying – or remind her of the promise she made to you at the very least, but now hardly seems like the time. She can process the events of today however she needs to. It’s not your place to force her to think positively.

She nods her head, loosening her grip on your wrist. You take your hand back slowly, grabbing a nearby stool and sitting on it next to the head of the tub. She sinks a little into the water, getting her hair wet. Without being asking – too afraid of what might come out of your mouth if you do – you lean over top of her and grab the shampoo bottle. The room is quiet, apart from the singing of Linda Ronstadt as you lather the shampoo in your hands. Working slowly, as you’re attempting to wash the fear out of her mind, you scrub your fingers through Sevika’s scalp. Her hair is oily and gross, turning the lather a brownish colour as you work the dirt out. She hums, leaning into your hands as you focus all of your energy into washing her hair.

“That feels nice,” she sighs contently, eyes falling shut.

You don’t trust yourself to say something back, so you say nothing at all. Simply continuing to scrub her hair as she continues to rest in the tub.

Silence falls back over the two of you like a warm blanket as you shampoo and condition her hair. Even as she washes herself off with the bar of soap and the water drains out of the tub. She sits quietly on the foot of it, letting you stitch her leg shut now that it’s clean. Her hand grips the tub, nearly breaking it, yet she never says a word. Not once does she complain, even as you bandage her leg up again and pass her the shirt. Deadpool’s face is printed across the front, yet your heart is so far away that you barely muster up a snicker. Once she’s dressed, the two of you leave the boombox running, music drifting through the house. She sits quietly on the kitchen counter as you heat up a can of soup, eating in silence once it’s finished. Sevika is rarely a talker, and you don’t have the heart to break the silence with something foolish and spoil the mood. So, instead, you help her around the house as best you can. The two of you have a second drink on the couch before you help her back upstairs to her room. She takes each stair painfully slowly, not wanting to pop the stitches on her leg. You can’t bring yourself to care; you’d spend an eternity on each stair if she asked you to. The heavy weight of her tired body on your shoulder blanketing you with warmth – a steady reminder that she was still alive.

Sevika has you switch off the boombox before helping her up to her bedroom. You leave it in the bathroom – you can put it back in her room tomorrow when you don’t feel utterly exhausted.

She doesn’t say a word as you reach her bedroom and help her into her messy bed. You adjust all the blankets, smoothing them over her so it looks more like a proper bed. She chuckles softly at your diligence, doing her best to help by smoothing out the top of the blankets. When you’re done, you stand awkwardly at her side, mustering up the words for a moment so you don’t make an utter fool of yourself.

“I should let you sleep now. The more you get, the faster you’ll heal,” you say – it still sounds clunky and awkwardly, the words sour on your tongue when your heart wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with her.

“I know,” she grants, pulling her hand out from under the covers and grabbing your wrist. The grip is barely there, letting you know you can pull away at any moment if you so choose. Her voice shakes as if she’s unbearably close to tears, the fear of death wadded up in her throat, suffocating her. “You can stay here, if you’d like.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, heart heavy in your chest as you brush her hair from her face gently. You can’t bear to see this woman – who holds herself up as a pillar of strength, unmoveable and unrelenting – crumpled into nothing short of terrified. “I’ll stay if you want me to, Sevika.”

“I do,” she rasps, and it’s all the persuasion you need.

You slip into bed beside her as if it is all you were ever made for. She wraps her arm around you, pulling you close to rest your head against her chest, keeping her leg straight so it can heal properly. You wrap your arm around her middle, fingers splayed against her side as you listen to the dull beating of her heart against her chest. Your heart thunders in your chest as her body emanates warmth like a bonfire, cradling you in her remaining arm. She sighs, lifting and dropping your head slowly as she relaxes into the bed underneath you. You’re not sure when she falls asleep, as you’re out like a light mere moments after you close your eyes.

[lilyevansxoxo]

@wolfstarmicrofic / january prompt n.3: first time meeting the family (766 words)

In the summer after their sixth year, Sirius pays Remus a visit. Lupin’s cottage is a white dot in the midst of the endless greenery, which blends with their rubble-walled garden. Sirius had never seen so much nature all at once. It was different from what he was used to seeing in Scotland, harsh and sublime. This—the earthy smell seeping up and all around him, the clement warmth of the sun, the distant buzz of bees and nameless insects, as he walked up to the yellow front door—felt like a hug.

He knocks on the door, at the faded speck of paint, and waits with his hands folded behind his back, mustering up his most perfect shit-eating grin.

It's a surprise, his visit. Remus had sent him a letter a week prior, mentioning his low morale since his mother Hope had fallen even more sick within a week of returning home from Hogwarts.

From inside the house, a rustling of paper, something heavy falling to the ground, a curse said sottovoce, socked steps—then the door opens to reveal a quite shocked Remus.

Sirius spreads his arms wide. “Surprise!”

Remus opens and closes his mouth dumbly. “Sirius? What–what are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“I just wanted to pay a visit,” he simply says, tilting his head, “you know. I thought you’d like some company or a bit of help, since your mother’s sick.”

Remus’ mouth formes an ‘o’, then his expressions grows pleased. “Come, come inside,” he encourages him in after clasping a hand on his shoulder.

The house is cozy and cram-full with furniture and knick-knacks. The living room’s ceiling is lined with wooden joists, a simple lighting fixture hovers above the small table at the far end of the room, where Hope sits. Sunlight dances on her skin, exacerbating its paleness, as the curtains gently move with the breeze coming from the open window.

Sirius smiles, tight-lipped, and gives her a nod. “Good afternoon, Mrs Lupin.”

She doesn’t respond but her expression grows more confused, eyes vacant.

“Get your shoes off and leave them there on the steps,” Remus says, before he reaches his mother’s side.

Sirius does as he’s told. He sits on the carpeted stairs in front of the entrance door, works on the laces of his combat boots, struggles to get them past his heels, then neatly places them beside him.

He tries not to snoop at the hushed voices coming from the other side of the house. He stands up and remains there, wedged between the console table and the coat hanger, and wonders if, all things considered, it was a good idea coming unannounced. A familiar sensation of unease creeps up his spine to the back of his neck. He grows tense, mind reeling.

“Sirius,” Remus beckons him to his mother’s side.

Sirius crosses the room with quick steps until he stands in front of them.

“Mum, this is Sirius Black. I’ve mentioned him a few times before,” Remus says, articulating his words.

Hope looks at him then slowly turns to Sirius, who extends his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, Mrs Lupin,” he says.

Hope shakes it weakly, cold palm against his own warm one. The ochre cardigan draped over her shoulders slips down with the motion. She whispers something but Sirius can’t make out her words. Still, he smiles.

Remus repositions the cardigan over her shoulders and places a hand on her arm. “We’ll be out  in the garden, okay?”

After her approving nod, Remus leads Sirius through the kitchen—copper pots and pans hang along the stove hood, a red teapot sits on a turned-off burner, the stone sink is filled with food-encrusted plates, rags everywhere—and out the backdoor.

They silently sit on the stone steps, socked feet buried between the blades of grass.

“Your father?” Sirius asks, after a while.

“He’s at work for most part of the day. He takes care of her in the evening,” Remus says, then his shoulders suddenly sag. “It’s the pain meds.” His voice is almost a whisper as he speaks to the space before him. “They’re quite strong, that’s why she’s like that.”

Sirius lifts his head. He doesn’t say anything as he places a hand on Remus’ back. The fabric of his vertical striped shirt wrinkles under his palm. 

Remus turns to him, teary-eyed. And Sirius’s heart breaks.

“Thank you for coming here.” Remus nudges Sirius with his shoulder. “Can I give you a hug?”

Sirius nods, smiling, snorting a little at the ridicolous request. “You shouldn’t even ask,” he says and envelopes a sniffling Remus in his arms.

[five-rivers]

Ancestral Chapter 27

AO3

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the communication with Vlad.  He wanted to know, somewhat reasonably, what they already knew about Revyvtech and Alicia’s situation, and also the security team.  Danny would have honestly told him to forget getting any information at all about the security team (he didn’t think Vlad would turn this into a hostage situation, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t), but Gwensyvyr convinced him to go talk to Matthew and the others, since he hadn’t been taking notes on Revyvtech and, really, any instructions to the security teams should come from Matthew and Mr. Kynbaz.

“Just to summarize,” said Matthew, “there’s an evil billionaire syvyr who wants to marry Maddie, adopt you and he let out Pariah Dark at some point?”  He looked terribly gaunt and worn in his pajamas, but he hadn’t been sleeping anyway, so Danny didn’t feel as guilty as he could have.  

“He did help lock him away again, so I think that bit was more just poor planning,” said Danny.  

“And you’re absolutely sure he had nothing to do with the assassination attempt?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “He sucks, and he has used blood blossoms before, but he hasn’t even tried to kill Dad since he found out about me, and even if he’s deluded enough to think that Mom wouldn’t care about that, he’d know she’d care about this.  Besides, I don’t think he knew Avlynys, like, existed before this.”

“And our honored ancestor… approved of telling this man about Alicia?  And letting him into the country?”

“It was her idea,” said Danny.  

“I understand the concern,” said Gwensyvyr, “but I would say that having him run about without information is more of a risk than otherwise.  He is the type who would be used by our enemies quite handily.  They would only need to reach out, as we have, to find a way in for him.”

“Wait,” said Danny, “the whole thing was about giving him information?  Not about Aunt Alicia?  Or, um, the other thing?”

“Well, if he is successful at either, it is a bonus,” said Gwensyvyr, shrugging.  “It is more important that he stay away from Revyvtech, however.  Would he have listened, if you told him the information outright?”

“No,” said Danny.  “He probably wouldn’t have.”

Matthew sighed heavily.  “Is this ‘other thing’ important right now?”

“No, it’s actually probably better not to talk about it until after all this stuff is sorted out,” said Danny.  

“Alright,” said Matthew.  “Okay.  I’ll come back to that later, then.”

Danny nodded, a bit embarrassed.  He was sleepy, too.  He couldn’t think of everything he shouldn’t say or do.  He’d had adult supervision.  

“Is there anything else?”

“I… don’t think so?”  He looked at Gwensyvyr, who shrugged and shook her head.  

“Good,” said Matthew.  “So, what we’re all going to do is go back to bed, then we’ll get up in the morning and hopefully some of the things we ordered for the Trials will be here…”

“Mom and Dad don’t want us to be in the Trials,” cautioned Danny.  

“Yes, I know.  They were quite vocal about that only a few hours ago.”

“Oh,” said Danny, “yeah.  I’d, um.”

“They can’t legally stop you from participating, anyway, Danny.”

Danny made a face.  He’d honestly forgotten.

“We’re all tired,” said Matthew.  “Go to bed.”

.

“So,” said Danny as he finally crawled into bed.  “Is there something else?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t carry you away from here,” said Gwensyvyr.  “Why?”

“Because you’re still here?”

Gwensyvyr raised an eyebrow.  

“Sometimes, you can’t sleep when you’re being watched.  It’s weird.”  It was one thing when they couldn’t communicate very well, and another thing when they’d had several conversations.

Gwensyvyr sighed dramatically.  “Times were, all members of a family slept in the same room.  It made it much easier to keep track of everyone.”  But she floated up.  “I will keep an eye on the others, then.”

“Matthew,” said Danny.  “He’s the most likely to be assassinated at this point.”

“Quite so,” said Gwensyvyr.  She flew up to Danny and took his wrist.  She traced a shape there, over his pulse.  “For luck,” she explained, before leaving.  

“She’s going to come back as soon as I go to sleep, isn’t she?” Danny asked himself.  Then he shrugged.  It wasn’t like he never peeked in on anyone, just to make sure.  

It was, he reflected, as he snuggled into his pillow, probably a ghost thing.

.

He woke up to the sounds of a fight.  Not a ghost fight, or a gunfight, or even a swordfight, but a verbal, screaming at the top of each other’s lungs fight.  Even so, Danny was out of bed and halfway to the door before Gwensyvyr stopped him with a hand on his chest.  

“It’s only Madlyn,” she said.  “There was a delivery only a few minutes past, of clothing for the Trials, among other things we discussed yesterday.  Matthew wanted them to come quickly.”

Danny blinked a few times, not as awake as he would have liked.  “Let me guess, there was stuff in there for me and Jazz?”

“Indeed,” said Gwensyvyr.  

“I am trying to follow the law!”

“I refuse to lose my children to the same medieval nonsense that killed my parents!”

Danny winced.  Really, this was just a continuation from last night, but, still, Danny had hoped…

Wanting to distract himself, he asked, “What things?”

“Vesklydys.  Clothing, that is, for the Trials.  And weaponry as well.  The twins came with it.”

“Um, you don’t mean Iris and George?”

“Kerytyk and Karys,” said Gwensyvyr.  “My twins.  They are gysys smythe, now.”

Spirits of the forge.  It was a fitting title, since they’d been master smiths and swordsmen when they were alive, according to the, well, he couldn’t call them myths anymore, really.  But he felt as if there was probably something more to the title than just the words.  

“And that’s, um,” started Danny, who still wasn’t entirely awake.  

“They help with the rites for the ritual knives,” explained Gwensyvyr.  “That one bit of syvyry is well remembered enough, but…”

“But sometimes there are problems,” filled in Danny.  “Like someone not doing it exactly right, because they just think it’s a tradition, or not being able to, uh, I guess there must be some ectoplasm involved that gets moved around…”

Gwensyvyr nodded.  “I thought that, as you are grounded, I could teach you some syvyry.”

“I’m not grounded,” protested Danny, “and I do already know how to use my ghost powers.  

“Mm, yes, yes, and considering that you fought Pariah Dark - no matter how that came about, or what help you had - you must be very skilled at wielding them.  And you can see and hear us, when no one else can.  But you know there is more to syvyry than that.”

Danny opened his mouth to argue about that, but it was true.  He did know.  There was the Great Gate Key, for one thing, and the ritual knives for another, but he’d thought those were sort of extensions of ghost powers, like Ember’s guitar, or some rudimentary version of ghost tech, like how blood blossoms acted sort of like the Specter Deflector.  

And, he realized, they might be, even if Gwensyvyr was drawing a distinction.  But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be useful to learn them, if he could.  

He nodded, thoughtfully, and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“I do not know how much you can learn in the little time we have, but many things have been lost that will still be useful.  Either for you, or for those you can teach.”

Danny sat up straighter.  “You think the others can learn?  Jazz and Matthew and everyone?”

“Maybe,” said Gwensyvyr.  “The smiths yet make the knives, even though they cannot hear the ghosts that gather round their forges.  Our churchyards are yet hallowed, although no priest I know of has ever glimpsed me.  Should one of my own line who has long lived above something like the sacred pool do something similar, even blind, even deaf?”  She shrugged.  “I wouldn’t be shocked.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “So, what do we start with?”

Gwensyvyr made a face.  “That,” she said, “might be tricky.  I can tell you all the ways we have taught things in the past, but…”  She frowned down at her hand, opening and closing it.  

“But not with this little power?”

“Not without being able to touch things,” she said, smiling wryly.  “Although, many times an apprentice starts with meditation and philosophy, I do not think that is useful here.”

“Sorry,” said Danny.  

Gwensyvyr waved away his apology.  “We ought to start with something practical.  Protection charms, I think.  Do you have paper?”

“Yes, somewhere,” said Danny.  He’d brought some expecting to do homework while he was here.  He was really going to be behind when they got back to Amity Park…

“Get it.  Spellwork of this type all begins with what the English might call a schematic.  A skepyn.  You will have to trace after me, like with the board, but more precisely…”

.

Learning magic, as it turned out, was hard.  

Following Gwensyvyr’s instructions closely enough to get a result when she couldn’t demonstrate directly was difficult.  Danny was having trouble understanding what a success looked or felt like.  The materials syvyrys usually used included a lot of things made from natural ingredients that Danny and Gwensyvyr were both pretty sure either contained ectoplasm or had special effects on ectoplasm, and they didn’t have substitutes on hand.  The periodic and continuing fights downstairs didn’t help either Danny or Gwensyvyr focus.  The Trials were happening as soon as everything could be put in place, even if exactly when that would be was unclear, so each mistake came with the sense of time draining away.  It was a bit of a mess.  

But Danny had certainly learned skills under stricter time constraints and worse circumstances.  Like in the middle of ghost fights.  

(Gwensyvyr had given him a look after he’d mentioned that, and he decided not to bring it up again.  Ever.)

Gwensyvyr nodded.  “I think that worked,” she said, examining the ectoplasm-bright lines he’d painted on his bedsheet.  “Go ahead and try to set it on fire.”

“Okay,” said Danny, snapping his fingers so that a tiny tongue of ghost fire hovered above them.  “Wait, is this wool?  Wool doesn’t catch fire, does it?  Tucker was reading to me about internet drama and that’s big in the knitting community.”

Gwensyvyr blinked at him.  “How could I know what it’s made of if I can’t touch it?”

The door opened.  “I think it’s okay to come down for lunch, since–” She broke off, staring.  “Are you lighting your sheets on fire?”

“No,” said Danny, hastily extinguishing the light.  “Do you ever knock?”

“No, and Mom and Dad don’t always, either, which is why you should lock your doors.”

“There isn’t a lock,” pointed out Danny.  

“Barricade, then.”

“There is a spell for that, actually,” said Gwensyvyr.  “But you should go.  You haven’t eaten, and it may be the best chance you have to see what was brought.”

Danny stood up and started folding the sheet.  “What ended the fight, anyway?”

“Which one?” said Jazz.  “Matthew had to actually go to work a while ago, Joanna is crying in her bedroom, that’s the first time I saw Eugene get mad like that, by the way, and the rest…”  She sighed.  “I think Mom really thought that she might get Iris and George on her side, since they didn’t believe in ghosts before, but then they started talking about peer review and double blind studies, and I’m not sure how relevant everything they said was to studying ghosts, or if they even meant it to be relevant or if they were just, you know–”

“Trolling,” supplied Gwensyvyr.  

“Yes, that,” said Jazz, before doing a double take.  “Gone again.”  She shook herself.  “What are you two doing up here, anyway?”

“Well, I’m probably going to explain everything wrong,” said Danny, depositing the neat square of the sheet on his bed, “but it’s like this…”

[goosewriting]

do you suppose we could have a rise donnie x gn! (kinda ace coded) reader where they’re in a recently established relationship, and one day, out of nowhere, he just calmly kisses their cheek? And it leaves the reader stunned for a moment as it sinks in that he did that purely because he wanted to, and they tear up a little over it. (inspired by the song we’ll never have s3x)

please, and thank you 💜 I absolutely adore your writing

♫ You kissed me just to kiss me / Not to make me cry ♫

summary: Donnie’s kiss takes reader by surprise. (spotify link to the song: we'll never have sex - leith ross)

relationship: Rise!Donnie x gn!ace!reader

warnings: none

word count: ~600

A/N: i recently watched the rise movie again so i was in the mood for some turtle love, and i still have a bunch of requests for them, so here we are! i meant to keep this shorter so you could listen to the song while you read but, uh, guess you’ll have to listen to it twice lol sorry it took so very long to get to this one but i hope you like it :’) 

[all masterlists] 🪶 [rottmnt masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Like many afternoons before, you spent this one at the lab with your favourite turtle. 

Donnie was fiddling with his newest invention at his console, but ended up moving his work to the table in the centre where you were sitting, taking a seat across from you.

You softly hummed a little tune to yourself as you watched him for a moment. It was with him that you discovered the concept of ‘parallel play’: existing within the same space but engaging in different activities. You came to realise soon that this was one of his favourite ways to spend time together. And you enjoyed it too, of course. Donnie met you half-way more than enough by making time to properly taking you out on dates, ranging from movie nights at home to visiting some event outside.

You came here to work on your own project, but quickly found your mind wandering, lulled by the soothing white noise of Donnie’s tinkering. Instead of properly writing down your notes, you flipped to the next page  on your notebook and started doodling. Your pen effortlessly glided over the page, forming different shapes and little creatures.

Several minutes went by, and you didn’t notice that Donnie stopped working, with a comfortable silence settling in. You didn’t look up when he excused himself from the room, saying he’ll be right back.

It was only when he came back and sat down next to you instead of where he’d been before that your daydreams came to a stop, and you straightened up in your seat. Donnie placed a steaming mug in front of you, and the smell of your favourite warm drink hit your nose. He was the only one who could get it perfectly, just the way you liked it. You smiled up at the turtle, picking up the mug to blow on it, and took a sip. Aah, just the perfect temperature. 

As you set it back down, you wanted to thank him, but the words got caught in your throat as your eyes met his. With his head leaning on his propped up elbow, Donnie studied your face intently, warmth held in his gaze.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked after a while of just looking at each other.

He didn’t reply, instead leaning in and placing a kiss only our lips. It caught you by surprise, but you only froze for a second, immediately melting into his touch as his hand came up to hold your face. You thought he was going to pull back, but he readjusted his angle and kissed you again on the cheek. Only then did he sit back, unable to hold your gaze, blush evident underneath the mask.

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching out your hand over the table to graze your fingertips over his knuckles, giving him the chance to pull back. Donnie didn’t usually initiate kisses or touches, and you were okay with that. While you enjoyed the kiss, you were also surprised. “You know you don’t have to force–”

“I know,” he interrupted you, eyes daring up to meet yours. “I just… wanted to.”

The sudden gesture and his words hit you hard, for some reason. You could feel the sting of tears prickling behind your eyes, and a sniffle escaped your nose. Donnie’s face switched to concern.

“If I did something wrong, I’m sorry–”

“No, not all, Donnie,” you said, taking his hand in yours this time. “It just makes me… really happy to hear that. You make me happy.” 

The device Donnie was working on earlier beeped, and you both turned to look as a robotic voice coming from it announced, “Upload complete.”

Giving you one last smile and with a squeeze to your hand, Donnie stood up and walked back to his invention to continue working. You took another sip of your tea, and you weren’t sure if the warmth that spread in your chest came from the drink or from him.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @theoriginalmintyyyshake @dybynyght @lieutenantlashfaz @galaxtic-writings @mountain-wire @Lovestruckfictionadict @salty-s-r @sleebykei @miso-sopas @wings-of-sapphire @ashtheboookworm2 @xxnoxx @crystal-crax @lunaramune @luckynesser @rowaaaaan @strange_fella @thesafireartist @toelady @hardkiddonut @asras-sweetheart

[justa-smalltown-gargoyle]

In the sex lives of college girls I think it’s wild how a love interest will be the perfect person ever and then suddenly they invent a new reason that they’re terrible and it’s like a brand new character trait that wasn’t present at all before

[tenwhiteandalusians]

is episode 8 the domitian arc ? more on this and EVEN MORE narratives i’ve been ignoring that the show said “actually,,,” about in 5

[chobunz]

── enha + make-up sex ! ּ 𓂅 ⋆ 🥛

˙✧˖ pair: hyung line (+ jungwon) ㅊ f!reader | warnings: pwp, smutty smut, angst/arguing (??), hurt/comfort, bratty!reader, they’re a little mean lol srry, punishments, d/s dynamics, mentions of crying, daddy kink, praising/degrading, thigh riding, fingering, size kink (kinda ?), piv, unprotected s.x, oral (m. rec), breeding kink, c.m swallowing | words: 4.7k (very much not proofread so i’m sure there’s plenty of typo’s lawl)

a/n. based on this request that i got !ヾ(￣□￣;)ﾉ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

౨ৎ heeseung

“can we go to ‘phora after you finish ?”

“no, sit down.” heeseung referred to you tugging on his shirt from behind. “why’re you moving around so much today ?”

you provided a hum, quickly ending the conversation you just started. you’ve been sitting here all day, on this leathery brown sofa. you’d been needing to go to the beauty store to buy a new concealer since last week, and it’s been annoying you that you can’t go today as it seemed your boyfriend was practically almost done with this track he’s working on.

you sat on the far end of the couch, farthest from him. there’d been nobody in the studio as of now, he took a short break earlier but was barely spending any time with you. that in itself made you sorta upset, you craved his attention more than anything.

you were feeling like a burden to him by even being here, and he made it no better by not giving in to your demands. you knew he was doing something, but you hated when work inclined with your time with him— and you know it sounds extremely selfish, but it’s okay to be a little selfish sometimes…

“well can you hurry up ??” “i kinda wanna go home.” you spoke up, the agitation overwhelming your tone.

“you can wait, but if you’re gonna have a fit, step out.” heeseung, was known for not putting up with any of your shit, no matter how much of a sweetheart he was. when it comes to his work he doesn’t really play around.

“i wasn’t gonna !” you poked your lip out, pouting.

“i can hear it in your voice, babe. don’t start, i'm busy; we’ll leave in a bit..” he put an end to the commotion you were about to start, he didn’t have the time do deal with your mellow drama. that was being only if he doesn’t have to fix it himself. and he knew just how to do that. all he has to do, is wait.

“ugh, okay. but hurry..”

๑ ๑ ๑

you were still upset with heeseung about not going, and you had sparely spoken a word to him since the incident from earlier. but the guilt of it all was only eating him away inside, seeing your sulking state made him feel even worse and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“babe.. c’mere,” heeseung’s voice filled the quiet room, his tone much softer, a striking contrast from the way he acted hours ago.

you didn’t wanna give in so easily with him, not after he told you no when all you wanted was some new concealer.. you wanted to put up a little bit of a fight; but the minute he flashed that apologetic, doe- eyed look at you it was enough make you want to melt in a puddle. curse him for being so damn cute..

“m’sorry baby.. let me make it up to you,” he attempts to atone for his actions, caging his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him, “we can go tomorrow if you want.. i’ll buy whatever you want pretty.” your body trembles the minute his lips find the soft spot of your neck, playing with the hem of your short skirt.

“mmh.. hee,” a tiny moan slips from your lips when his hands get closer to your core, a surge of heat rushing through. “oh gosh,”

his fingers swirl around your entrance, collecting your wetness, bringing it up to decorate your clit before dipping them back into your entrance. he looks up at you, a chuckle on his face, so cocky and arrogant. he swipes his middle harshly on your clit, you were feeling ecstatic, already on the verge of coming as he kept up his ministrations. you begin to gush on his fingers as you writhe your hips.

“fuck..” he groans. “you only get this wet for me, right baby ?”

your eyes slightly rolled to the back of your head as you felt the slight pressure on your clit, your chest heaving, trying your hardest in collecting yourself. his palm slaps your pussy when you don’t answer him, and you whimper out a “y-yes..” quickly. he’s been doing this for what felt like hours and you swore you were going to pass out just from this alone.

he chuckles again, sounding like a curt scoff. pulling his lip between his teeth, you notice the look in his eyes, and you gulp. he pulls your thighs further apart, stretching.

you squeak at the stretch, your thighs are burning.

“stay still,” heeseung grunts out. “i don’t wanna make you cry right now, baby you know i hate that.”

heeseung takes both fingers into your pussy, scissoring them in and out of you. you watch as glob of his spit falls onto your clit as he smiles at the squelching sound of everything. your eyes rolled all the way back to your skull when you start to hear how messy it all is.

“baby.. you’re squirting,”

౨ৎ jay

“why do you keep pushing me away ?” “can you not?” jay’s voice surpassed the boundary between calm and annoyed. he didn’t seem to understand you at all today. and it’s more of a problem that you refused to talk with him about any of it. all you continue to say is ‘nothing.’

“i’m not.. it’s just, really hot in here..” you exhaled, shifting your gaze to avoid direct eye contact with him.

“could’ve just said something, i’ll go turn the ac on.”

“no !” you pulled his arm almost dragging him back onto the couch. “i don’t want to turn it on.”

“what ? aren’t you hot ?” he blinked in confusion.

you nod.

“then why not..?”

“cause i don’ wanna !” you roll your eyes in discontent, by this point you were being unreasonably stubborn for no reason and jay was quite literally over your attitude you’ve been giving him all day.

“babe, i’ll either touch and hold you while it’s cold so you’re comfortable, or make you sweat like a bitch and not care.” “but you’re infront of me, i’m gonna touch you. i don’t care. so choose.” he eyed you, face calmed but holding so much emotion. confusion, anger, love. but it’s all just mixing up like a bowl of açaí and he can’t pick out which one he’s feeling right now.

“neither !” you retaliate, but to your demise, you got his cuddly wrath anyway.

“jay ! get— hey !” you pushed and nudged but no hope. he wasn’t gonna let you go, felt like you needed comfort, but he couldn’t depict if it was just his instincts or not.

“ow !” you felt the weight of his body rise leaving you feeling like a light weight blob of mass. “y/n, did you just.. hit me ?” his face, was all misshapen. a furrowed and betrayed look caping his features in like they were a precious jewel sworn to never see light of day.

“baby— i.. i didn’t mean it !” “it just happened..” you broke a huge no-no in your book. sworn to never put your hands on eachother in a vile way, that is unless consented. meaning, the two of you should never hit one another. look at you now, your stubborn little ass is in a huge mess.

“mhm, yeah” you watched as he left the couch the both of you once sat on together. now you’re sad, cold and alone, in the once hot area.

“jay, i’m serious, ’m sorry!”

“corner.”

“huh ?..”

his hand cupped the back of your head, leading you to the nearest corner in the room, only for him to finish you off; shoving your face into the corner. “sit. and don’t move a damn inch. got it ? mrs. y/n ?”

“yes..” you sulked, look what you did, being a spoiled fucking brat. should’ve got over your little drama party when you had the chance. but look at you now.

“yes what ?”

“yes daddy..?” your voice wobbled. the mere thought or feel of being in trouble is terrible. yet you saw through your punishment and done your vile actions.

“oh ? good girl, finally using that mouth for what it’s worth. finally listening. over that pity party? huh ?” he joked, a cackle bubbling from his throat as he walked away from your smaller being.

half an hour had passed and he’d left you there to reflect on your actions, but he knew he couldn’t keep you there alone for too long. instead, he’d much rather release each other’s frustrations by fucking it out— that always works in the end to resolve your differences, doesn’t it ..?

๑ ๑ ๑

“jay, p-please slow down !” you stuttered, begging for mercy. eyes fluttering as you ride on top of his big cock. being on top with jay felt like nothing of the sort.

he still had all the control, his thickness sliding in and out, your juices leaking everywhere with each and every thrust; your entrance giving that tickling feeling that you knew all too well.

sometimes your boyfriend could be super soft and gentle with you, while other times he’d fuck you rough and mercilessly, leaving you completely dumb as you’re full of nothing but his cock. jay likes putting you on top just to fuck you like you were laying down.

he slows down just a liiittle bit... but not without leaving a light slap on your cheek. noticing the way you’re bringing your bottom lip into your mouth, tears streaming down your face. he coos at you, rubbing your thigh.

“sorry baby,” he pouts, gently rubbing your clit. “come closer.” you watch in confusion as he pants but you obey.

he pinches your cheeks with his right hand, squishing your face. you could smell your pussy wafting from his fingers. “you did soo well taking my cock,” jake hums at you proudly, “yeah ? so tight.”

“do i get a reward for being good, daddy ?” you mutter.

your boyfriend hums again, before tapping your cheek. you try opening your mouth knowing exactly what he wants. gazing into his eyes, you greedily stick your tongue out. he suddenly slams his cock back into you, making you gasp from the sudden fill.

“uh uh,” he says sternly. “keep your mouth open.”

you watch as he let’s a string of his spit fall right on your tongue.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

౨ৎ jake

“does it really take that long to unlock a door ?” your hands met your hips, knee at a bent degree, tips of your shoe tapping the ground. “i’m getting tired of standing here, c’mon !”

“does it take a lot for you to shut your pretty fuckin’ mouth ?” “shit baby, what’s your problem today, you've been acting bratty the past few hours.” his key forcefully twisted into place, giving jake a satisfying click.

“nothing..” you quickly mutter.

“really ? nothing?” “so, you’re being disrespectful for no reason ?, don’t you know where that gets you ?” his figure caged you between the passenger side door, eyes locked on yours. you knew you had no reason to be upset, and even knowing that, you were terrible angry.

“i’m speaking to you.”

“yes jake.. i know.”

“then get in the car and act fucking right.” he pulled you towards him, reaching out to open the door for you. “hear me ?”

“good.” he closed after hearing a complying hum from you before reaching over your lap, buckling your seatbelt.

you honestly couldn’t stay mad at him, look at how he treats you even after he scolds you. a man everybody wants, but only you have. and you felt ungrateful, like you didn’t deserve him.

the real reason you were so upset in the first place was only because jake had wanted you to come to these dinner reservations he made with his friends and although you really did enjoy his friend’s company sometimes, you didn’t want to go anywhere.

all you wanted was to stay in and be with your boyfriend all day but instead you took your anger and frustration out on him— which only made you harbor more guilt inside.

the car ride went completely silent for the first ten minutes, then an idea sprang into your mind. why not show how sorry you were for your attitude by giving him some road head ? you’ve never tried it before, but there’s a first time for everything you suppose. plus, you genuinely felt remorseful, and there wasn’t a more perfect way of apologizing than doing that in your opinion.

๑ ๑ ๑

“hpmh,—” your lips kiss his pinkish-red tip, when you unzipped his pants to expose his hard on, a small bead of pre-cum leaked out. dipping your tongue out to lick it up, his cock flinching at any slight stimulation. “babe— yes ! fuck..”

opening your mouth wider to take his full length, your eyes began watering when the end of his shaft hits the back of your throat. “look at you, already taking it all.. look so fucking hot like that with your mouth full of my cock.” his hand gripping hard onto the steering wheel, the other grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling hard as he forces more of himself down your throat.

you gag and choke a bit from his hips rutting into you, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do on earth. giving all your efforts to please him, looking up with bright big eyes while you deepthroat. your pussy was uncomfortably wet, you could feel your slick leaking on your thighs. moaning as you continue bobbing your head up and down, feeling him throbbing in your warm mouth from the sensations.

“yeah baby… just like that keep going.. fuck…” jake wanted to swing his head back from the pleasure so badly, but he had to focus on the road.. pulling your hair tighter as he feels himself getting close.

you could sense he was close too by his erratic movements, and you know exactly how to get him to cum. collecting more saliva as much as you could to make it even sloppier, some of it almost dripping from the corners of your mouth as you keep going. he felt like the end was nearing for him, he grunts loudly, bucking his hips up in a frenzy.

“shit- ’m gonna come… you better swallow of all of it like a good fucking girl.” you nod, feeling him pulsate even more in your mouth, humming around the base of his length as you send him to a higher state of pleasure. the back of your throat gets hit with shots of hot cum, milking every last bit of him until you know for sure he’s done.

“you really have no idea what you do to me y/n, do you ?” he pants while trying to catch his breath, wanting to look down at the beautiful mess he’s created.

“i swallowed it all daddy, look.” you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue to show him it was all empty.

“that’s my good girl,” jake praises you, quickly glancing down to see you looking all lazy and defeated. he wanted to say to hell with it and skip the plans, turn back around just so he could fuck you. there’s no way he’d able to last more than an hour without having his cock buried inside of you..

౨ৎ sunghoon

an hour, a whole god damn hour, you were being completely ignored, concealing all your tiny sobs. you were sorry for your actions, hell, even sorry for yourself, but also sorry for your boyfriend, the man who had to put up with all of your brattiness.

today you just decided to chose violence and pick a fight with your boyfriend for absolutely no reason other than you just felt like it. but now you were paying the consequences of those actions by his silent treatment he gave you. when he’d finally noticed you’ve been crying, he couldn’t hold anymore of this little grudge against you, he couldn’t see you like that no matter what.

your thought process was cut off once you felt a warm compress on your back. making you bawl your eyes out even more.

“babe, what are you crying for ?”

“i don’t know.. i’m—”

“you’re sorry?” his hands caressed your sides, his mouth kissing along your shoulder. “i know baby. it’s okay.”

“did i leave you alone for too long ?” he pulled you further into his build by your waist, cupping you in his hold. his tough demeanor shrinking to bits once he saw your puffy, red eyes.

“no..” you quickly turned to wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling yourself into his embrace. you can’t believe how sunghoon deprived you were for just an hour. the hold this man had on you..

“you wanna tell me what happened today ?” “or no ?” he added, hearing nothing in reply.

“maybe later.. ?” “i miss you.”

“i miss you too babe, i just don’t like when you act that that. i feel neglected, like you can’t open up to me.”

“i know.. i’m sorry, i just didn’t feel good today..” you retracted your nuzzle from the crook of his neck.

“just one of those days ?” “you know i won’t ever know what’s wrong unless you tell me, right?”

you hummed. “yes, but.. i don’t know i was just being selfish and i took it all out on you..”

“you’re a really good girl, baby, i love you okay ? you don’t have to ever close yourself off with me. ‘kay ?”

“mkay..” you reached for a kiss in which he gratefully returned.

“baby.. well, maybe.., did you check yourself?” he cautiously approached the upcoming topic. he could feel parts of his sweats sticking to his skin like rice cake on a hot day. and he had a feeling that your attitude wasn’t just an attitude.

“what do you mean ..?” your brows furrowed at the random question displayed before you.

“you know, like.. are you on ?”

“my period?” he hummed in response to answer.

“noo..? i checked earlier.. plus i didn’t feel any paining.. or any symptoms like usual..”

he nods at your reassurance, knowing how cranky you can get when it’s close to that time of the month. that’s when everything shifted, you were suddenly pulled onto his lap and kissing him roughly on the couch, his hands exploring each and every inch of your body. you knew exactly how this was gonna end— you being completely ruined by the end of this night.

๑ ๑ ๑

“babe, you’re fucking squeezin’ me.” sunghoon groaned, gripping the sides of your hips in a tight manner. “pussy still begging for more, huh ?”

“please hoonie..” you whined at the friction of his cock colliding with yours perfectly, feeling every ridge and vein. like his cock was made just for you. “want it so bad..”

he wasted no time in burying himself deeper inside you, in all honesty he wanted you no more than you wanted him. he needed you the most right now. the fact that he’d spent so long ignoring you today because of his stubborn, selfish actions left him feeling more than guilty, and he was going to show you just how much he wants you.

sunghoon’s hand pressed on your stomach with every stroke he landed in you. every curve his length went through to touch your G. “fuck..” he landed a sharp slap onto your tits.

you couldn’t help but grind your hips back up against him. a tense burning sensation sprawling throughout your whole body. it make you urge for more, like nothing was enough, even though you were in pure bliss. you were nothing but a mewling, shrieking mess.

“hoon ! ugh, please ruin me..hmm please..” your arms reached up, grasping around his neck.

“you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know ?” he airly chuckled throwing he head back. the feel of your slick creating sticky vines across his skin whenever he’d pull out. the sound of it, the look of it. all of it turning him on even more.

your back arched at the thought of maxing out around his thick shaft. the praise you’ll get since you’ve done so well for him.

“i love you..” you mumbled bittersweet nothings one after another.

“shit, loosen the fuck up.” his hands entangled your sweaty hair gripping it in a careful but aggressive manner. “fuck, i’m gonna come.” he began to thrust into your messy cunt relentlessly, pounding you into oblivion.

“hoon— mm’nside please.. !” you slurred, drool heaping out the corner of your mouth.

“inside ? huh? you want my babies, princess ?” “you do, don’t you? want me to fill your fucking pussy with my seed.” sunghoon chuckled at your pleading. he was tired as hell, but soo turned on by you, by the thought of you bearing his children.

“ ’es yes, yes hoon !”

“whatever you want, baby.” his length pumped into you filling you up, not an empty fucking crevice in your soppy cunt.

“thank you .. daddy.. ”

౨ৎ jungwon

you know why you were in the situation you were in right now, but you imply that you don’t care, yet and still it seems like your silly boyfriend does indeed care.

“babee, talk to meee !!” he lingered the letters of the petname he’d so rightfully honored to you, on his tongue. “why won’t you talk to me ?!” he sat up, his pout where it always is. (in his greedy ass bottom lip. upper lip = TT)

yesterday night, you were in jungwon’s position. being ignored, all because he wanted to be on call and play games with his friends the whole night. he still made it up to you afterwards but who cares ?? you could do the same. he’ll get over it the moment you kiss him.

“pretty girl ??” he crawled on top on you, dodging the arms you held in the air as your eyes scanned the screen of your nintendo. “what’d i do.. ?” he talked into your neck. you can’t lie.. your hearts fluttering, it might as well fly off leaving your mouth hanging open gasping for air.

he was too cute for his own good, so soft.. but you wanted to show him the emotional castle you walked through when he sat on his game for 10 hours straight after having a date with you. aftermath cuddles where ??

your skin tingled as jungwon’s lifted himself infront of your screen to pamper kisses all over your face, “won- stop it..” you groaned clearly ‘upset’ he’s disturbing you.

“oh- so you can talk? mm ?”

you ignore his presence once more this time with your cute little furrowed brows. only this time, you could feel him burning holes through your face. “would you stop staring ?? what do you want jungwon ?”, you look away from your game to see his wide-eyed features.

“'jungwon'? really baby what did i do.” his lips swell into his signature pout.

“nothing, just move a little, you’re too close i can’t focus.” you said nonchalantly. he only caught an attitude and pushed himself back into the sofa gazing at the TV, after rolling his eyes at you.

he’d sat for so long waiting on your worry, and you got so caught up in the game and actually forgot about him sitting there.. that was until you heard his little sniffles. “baby ?” you sit up looking at him and slowly putting your nintendo away. “hm..” you could hear how annoyed he was with you. there’s no way he’s actually upset by all of this ??

at this point, you were beginning to feel really bad, but you couldn’t help but giggle just a bit, he was the cutest thing on earth !! his pouty lips, his glossy eyes, just everything about him. “i’m sorry.. i just wanted to show you how i feel when you do it to me.” you pulled him towards you and sat on his lap, proceeding to wrap your arms around his neck.

“that’s right, be sorry, you’re a mean girl ! give me kisses everywhere, here, here, here, and here !” he points all over his facial area.

you could only do as he said, how couldn’t you ? look at him ;(

“i’m sorry, do you forgive me ? huh wonnie ?”, you hugged him tightly. “hmm... no !” you felt him grow under your thin little shorts.

“maybe after you fix my boner though. maybe i will.” you pull back from his embrace, your face resembling confusions and shock. “how could you say something like that while looking so.. sweet and adorable !?” he giggled at your response.

“i dunno, but you should get to work,” he shrugged. “you wouldn't wanna waste a good tap, right ?” you could feel the heat rising.

“but-”

“but ?? shouldn’t you be begging for forgiveness?? huh, baby ?” he slapped the softness of your ass causing you to jump at the friction. “be good for me. don’t make me wait. y/n.” he glared at you, a hidden smirk on his face.

“yes sir.”

you knew he liked being called that a little too much.. you giggle to yourself sliding off his lap onto the pads of your knees.

๑ ๑ ๑

at this moment you thought of nothing but pleasing him right, your hands gripping his thighs while your head bobbed slowly on his length. once you were comfortable you quickened yourself. you loved when he’d get all whiney— especially for you. his hands gripped your hair as he groaned your name, feeling him throbbing inside you.

“mhm.. hell yeah.. just like that princess.” he praised, that moment causing you to squeeze your legs together.

you sucked him harder as your mouth slid off his tip, hands replacing it. your hand added a pressure your mouth couldn’t as you jerked him. his balls sat in your mouth and you suckled and licked until he couldn’t take it anymore of it.

“shit !” he tapped your shoulder before making lift back up onto your feet once again. “all fours, and hurry up.” he groaned, “but i didn’t fi-” you felt his hand swash against your ass causing you to yelp and hurriedly get into position.

“ah, fuck fuck fuck !” your moans grew louder the more his cock slams into your walls, the way you’re swallowing him up makes his brain all fuzzy, you feel so warm and inviting, could stay like this forever.

his insatiable lust for you was displayed even more than usual tonight as he thrusts into you deeply, thinking about the fact that only he gets to have you in this way and no one else; he should appreciate how good he has it more often. it only makes him want to pleasure you even more, changing angles and positions that have you clenching around him hard, cumming over and over on his cock.

he immerses himself in the feeling, holding your hips close and he grunts, “no one else will ever make you feel this good”, eyes closing at the way you flutter around him, “don’t forget that, yeah?”

and you can’t find anything in yourself to disagree. moaning his name out, too out of it to even talk because all you can think about is him— how perfectly his cock fills you up and how good he feels cumming inside of you, marking you as his.

“love how you clench around me baby.” he bit your shoulder compressing and moan that dared to slip from his mouth.

he deliberately pounded into you, like he wanted everyone near to know how he was ruining you. he wanted to hear you begging for a break.

“please.. won, so good..”

the sound of your bodies smacking together fills the room as he fucks you faster with his arms holding himself up, paying close attention to how beautiful you look under him.

“gonna come in your tight dewy little pussy.” he captured your waist, pulling you closer into him. “wann’ put a baby in you, want my babies, huh ?”

“yes.. in me please baby ! please come !..”

you notice his eyes lingering on each of your features and all you can do is pull him in for a long kiss, which causes jungwon to groan into your mouth and suddenly fill you up with his load, overwhelmed and wanting you even closer as he (momentarily) lays on top of you.

he swears each time the both of you cum it’s never the last, pleading to give you one more, telling you that he knows you want it from how much your pussy pulls him in, inviting him to breed you again and again..

so i’m officially back, i think ?? >-< gonna try to be more consistent on here but we’ll see….

alsoo shoutout to my besties @leeechin & @pshbites, i was thinking of y’all while writing jay and jungwon’s parts hehehe. luh y’all sososo bad <333