#am i only writing this because i had this same realization today?

[sleepy--anon]

It's My Job

Reblog first, like later please, reblogs do more

Here's who I write for

In-ho is 35 and Jun-ho is 19 here

Most people would assume that siblings with a 16 year age gap wouldn't be that close but Jun-ho practically glued himself to his big brother and In-ho absolutely adored Jun-ho from birth. They obviously still had their fair share of sibling quarles but ultimately, the two were inseparable for the most part.

"You work too much!" Jun-ho whined loudly, half hanging off his brother's bed, In-ho rolled his eyes as he continued his paperwork. Jun-ho showed up randomly, wanting to see his brother.

"Considering you're only on your second year of academy I'd assume you'd appreciate the calm atmosphere of us just doing our own thing in peace Namdongsaeng." Jun-ho's eyes narrowed at how his brother didn't look at him while he spoke.

"I came to see my Hyung because I missed him, is it a crime to be upset that he's ignoring me?" Jun-ho turned to sit on his legs and give In-ho an exaggerated pout and the biggest puppy eyes he could muster. He felt a prideful flutter in his chest when In-ho looked at him and visibly melted.

"Nobody said it was, and I am not ignoring you, you just have a completely different view of attention than I do." In-ho got up from his desk, walking over to his little brother, gently cupping his face, smiling softly at Jun-ho's bright smile.

"Well I felt ignored Hyung, you should've known how I feel about your attention." In-ho's eye twitched at his tone, his hands slipping to Jun-ho's shoulders.

"You want attention Namdongsaeng? Fine, I'll give you some damn attention." He quickly shoved his bother back, jumping up to straddle his hips, pressing his wrists into the mattress as he watched Jun-ho process what had just happened.

"Are you comfortable Hyeongje~? Cause you're gonna be there for a while~" Just then did Jun-ho finally realize what was happening. In-ho's change in tone flipped a switch in Jun-ho's brain.

"Noooo come on! That's not what I meant when I said I wanted your attention and you know it!" He whimpered, trying to worm his way out of his scarily effective hold. When Jun-ho was 6 his brother had graduated from the same police academy he was currently in, which meant In-ho knew all the little tricks he didn't and boy did he use that to his advantage.

"Its no use Little One~ You might as well accept your fate~ You practically asked for this anyway~" Jun-ho grunted as he tried to overpower his brother, huffing at his smug face when he barely budged.

"I did not! Can't we just go get food? Or watch a movie? Both of those work as alternatives" Jun-ho felt the pressure of In-ho's knees on his wrists, pulling a long whine of protest from his throat.

"What whiny~? You wanted my attention right~? You now have my undivided attention~" In-ho smirked mischievously as he crawled his fingers from his hips up to his ribs. Chuckling at Jun-ho's strained grunts as he tried to fight the sensations.

"Oh come on Jun~ This isn't a battle, you can let loose~ or do you need a little help~?" In-ho's fingers pressing into a few of his higher ribs, smiling at the bright, childish laughter the began flowing from his brother.

"Nohohohoho! I dohohon't neheheed any hehehehelp! StohohoOHOP!" In-ho hummed as if considering his request.

"I don't know if I believe you~ You've been pouting quite a lot today~"

"I'm FIHIHIHINE! STOHOHOP dohohoing THAHAHAT!" Jun-ho's laughter pitching up and down based on In-ho's occasional flicks up into his underarms.

"Why~? Would you prefer I did this instead~?" In-ho's hands jumped to his brother's stomach pinching and squeezing all over, paying extra attention to the lower portion towards his hips.

"FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!"

"Ooooo~ Jun-ho's using his big boy language now~" He could feel his bed shake from the drumming of Jun-ho's feet.

"LEHEHET MEHEHE GOHOHOHOHO! HYUHUHUNG PLEHEHEHEASE!"

"Oh alright~" He skittered his fingers quickly across his little brother's neck before climbing off him.

"You're way too ticklish to be pulling that kind of shit Jun, you always have been" He teased, pinching his cheek and fixing the pillow under his head.

"Just say you like bullying me In-ho, we know that's the real reason you just nearly killed me"

"Don't be so dramatic Namdongsaeng, you're just a little out of breath, think of it like endurance training. You're welcome."

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[entitled-fangirl]

A good father.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader

Summary: fatherhood is different than what Gwayne expected. Daeron worries that it will be the same as Otto and Gwayne's relationship.

A/n: so I saw that this was the most voted for the poll so far, so I just decided to write it today! Surprise!

Masterlist

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Otto Hightower had returned to Old Town only days ago, and things could not have been more awkward.

Well, not for Gwayne.

That cocky little shit just said everything that came to mind.

It seemed he liked to battle his father.

…

"Daeron?" Her soft voice came over the yard.

Young Daeron sat in the garden of Old Town, a frown upon his face. But at the sound of her voice, he turned and his eyes brightened.

Y/n Hightower slowly walked to him. Five months had passed and finally, she was beginning to show the child that was growing inside her. And she seemed to glow all the more for it.

Daeron moved to the side of make room for her on the bench, as well as hold his hand out to her to help her sit.

"Something is bothering you." She stated and pushed his blonde hair behind his ear. 

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Daeron," she tried again softly.

She had a way with him. She never had to raise her voice to get her way, for everyone that heard the meek tone of her voice still listened and obeyed. 

"It's Grandsire," Daemon explained. "More… it's the constant bickering."

She nodded, running a hand through his hair affectionately. "Gwayne and his father have never seen eye to eye, not since Alicent became queen. They are just two very different men."

"Is that how all fathers and sons talk?"

She pulled his chin up to make his eyes meet hers, "No. Not all fathers and sons speak in ill regard of one another."

"What if he does it to his own son?"

Her brows furrowed, "What?"

"What if Gwayne speaks like that to the babe?" 

She just realized how his eyes glazed over with tears. "Oh, sweet boy." She pulled him to her. "Gwayne is a man with a temper, but he would not do that. There is a barrier between Gwayne and his father. One that cannot be fixed now, and only because of that do they fight."

Daeron considered her words for a while, "So, because there is no barrier with the babe-"

"-Gwayne will love this child with his entire being, I promise you."

She held him for a while, promising to talk to her husband about it later.

…

"Might I speak with you?" Her voice echoed out.

Gwayne turned slowly, his face lighting up at her sudden appearance. "You and I both know that you may."

A soft smile came to her lips as she walked to him, "I've missed you as of late."

His head tilted, "I've been here."

She rested her hands on his chest, "Yes, but your mind has been elsewhere."

One of his hands moved to her swollen stomach, "Very much so. My father has been occupying my attention." He scoffed thinking about it, "He's a foolish man."

Her hands rubbed soothingly across his chest. "Even now, you only think of him." She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, "Don't neglect your wife and future child to argue with your father."

He let out a soft sigh as her words broke his angered facade. "Forgive me."

"No." She leaned against him. "You need to apologize to Daeron."

"Daeron?" He asked in surprise. "Why Daeron?"

"He's worried for you. Well… for the child."

His eyes moved to her to stomach. "I don't understand. He has no reason to worry."

"He's seen the way you bicker with your father."

His hand rubbed up and down, "I'm still rather confused. What does my relationship with my father have to do with the child? Are you alright? Is the babe alright?"

She placed her hand over his, "I am fine."

He tilted his head in worry, "You're sure?"

"I am. Daeron is frightened that you'll speak to our child the way your father speaks to you."

A worried look came over his face, "I would never."

"I know that."

"I did not realize he noticed that."

"I told him I'd speak to you to reassure his worries."

He nodded and looked to her face. "Let me talk to him."

She nodded, "Alright. He should still be outdoors."

Gwayne placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll go now. Wait for me?"

She hummed a questioning noise, "What? Why?"

He grinned, "I want to make up for lost time when I return."

A blush came to her cheeks, "Do make it quick then."

He smoothed down her hair, "I shall."

…

"Come here, nephew."

Daeron looked up and saw his uncle. He stood and smoothed out his shirt. "Yes, uncle?"

He ruffled the boy's hair and smirked, "I've been told that you're worried about something."

A guilty look crossed the boy's face, "Aunt Y/n told you that?"

"She did. But I want to hear it from you." He pointed to the bench, "Sit." Gwayne sat next to him. "I understand that you worry about the way your grandsire and I speak to one another."

Daeron nodded, "You fight often."

"We do." He wanted to fully explain it all, but his nephew was still a child. "We do not… agree often. That is all."

"You and Aunt Y/n disagree often," he pointed out.

He realized the direction that the boy was going, and was earnestly trying to make him see his side. "I'd never speak negatively to that woman."

"But why is that different to Grandsire?"

"Well, I love my wife," he said immediately.

Daeron's eyes watered, "Do you not love Grandsire?"

"I…" he looked away in thought. "He is my father. Do you love your father, Daeron?"

"I believe I do," he answered. "But I do not know. I've lived here for almost my whole life. I don't know father well at all."

"May I tell you a secret? I do not know my father at all, either." Gwayne leaned back against the bench. "My father has always been in King's Landing with your father. Seems we're the same."

Daeron nodded, "I didn't… I didn't think about that."

Gwayne put a hand on Daeron's shoulder, "I will always stay by the babe's side. I will not part from my family."

The boy relaxed at that. He stared in thought, something clearly bothering him. "What is my mother like?"

Gwayne frowned, "W…What?"

"The queen. What is she like? Surely you know."

"Why not ask your Grandsire?"

"I don't know him well enough. I try to avoid him in all honestly. Is that wrong of me?"

Gwayne considered the thought. "I don't think so. I was very frustrated to see him return too."

The Targaryen prince stared up at his uncle, "Did he treat his wife poorly?"

Gwayne felt a smile come to his face at the mention of his mother. "No. No, he loved her very dearly, as I love my wife." He looked out over the garden. "And Alicent is much like your grandmother. Very headstrong but very kind, and as fiery as the Hightower hair. Or, at least… I think she is. She was." He turned to look at Daeron, "Do you wish to visit your mother at some point?"

"No. I'm content here."

"Are you?" A soft voice interrupted. 

Y/n approached the two, a slight waddle to her step due to her condition.

Gwayne stood up and held his arms out to her. When she was close enough, he helped her sit on the bench. 

She still looked to Daeron. "You're happy here?"

He nodded.

"I'm very glad," she smiled.

Gwayne knelt in front of the boy, "I promise to you that I will love my child unconditionally. Now, I want you to stop worrying. Will you do that?"

Daeron nodded again.

Y/n reached up to smooth the boy's hair, "And you'll still be loved the same when you have a cousin."

"You'll be an excellent cousin," Gwayne chipped in.

"I don't know how to do so. I… I am hardly a brother."

"Do not fret, Daeron. It will come to you naturally," she cooed.

…

A few months later, Daeron entered the couple's chambers in nervousness, eager to meet his cousin.

Gwayne sat against the headboard of the bed, his exhausted wife leaning against his chest. "Daeron?"

He looked up at his uncle, "Is she alright?"

Gwayne nodded and pulled her just a little closer. "She's perfect."

"And the babe?"

Gwayne looked across the room. 

Otto Hightower sat on the sofa across the room, the babe held securely in his arms. 

It was clear that there was a little tension between the two men.

Otto looked to Daeron, "C'mere."

Daeron walked to his grandsire curiously.

Otto lowered one shoulder to let Daeron see the babe. "A boy."

Daeron's eyes widened, "A boy?"

Gwayne spoke up, "Are you happy?"

He nodded immediately.

Y/n's eyes opened and she let out a groan.

Gwayne shifted her, getting her more comfortable. "Need something?"

"Wanna get up," she whispered. 

Gwayne looked at the others in the room, "Leave us."

Daeron nodded, leaving with the maester.

Otto wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't. He stood and went to put the babe down, but Gwayne spoke up, "Bring him here."

Y/n's eager arms took the child from Otto. 

Lord Hightower smiled softly, "You'll be a wonderful mother."

She grinned. "I hope so."

Otto then looked to Gwayne. He stared at him for a while. Gwayne was expecting an insult. 

"I was so scared the day you were born."

Gwayne was confused by the sudden confession. "What?"

"The day you were born. I remember the way my hands shook." He looked between the two, "Your mother was so confident."

"I heard she was wonderful," Y/n chirped in softly.

Otto nodded, "She was."

"Gwayne, I need to feed the babe."

Gwayne nodded. "I'll fetch the midwife to help you." He stood and led his father out.

The two walked down the corridor in silence. Finally, Otto spoke. "Your son will be a strong warrior."

"He will be. I'll be here to ensure it," Gwayne said bitterly.

Otto sighed. "We've never gotten along, I understand-"

"-No, you just weren't here."

"I was leading the realm," Otto tried to reason.

"You left," he grunted.

"I am still your father."

"No. Only by blood."

Otto scoffed, "Do not be weak."

"I will raise my son properly. I won't leave my child. And I won't leave my wife." Gwayne grunted. "Something you didn't do."

"Do you believe that I returned here only because I wished to?"

Gwayne stared at him for a while, "I… I do not pretend to understand your choices."

Otto took a step forward, "I was terrified the day you were born. I did not know how to be a father. I didn't have one long enough to learn from him."

Gwayne's head tilted, "And?"

"And…" Otto sighed as his frustration grew. "The king granted me a few months leave. Do you believe I just so happened to time out my arrival with end of your wife's condition and the months after?"

He crossed his arms in annoyance, "What are you saying? You wanted to be here? You wanted to see the child?"

"I WANTED TO SEE YOU!" Otto yelled. "YOU AND YOUR FOOLISH PRIDE!" He brought a hand to his forehead, "I remember the feeling of holding your first child. It is not easy to be a new father and to lead. I only wish to help you in the ways I know how."

"You came back for me?" He asked incredulously.

"Entirely," he admitted. "I see your mother in you. In every word, in every deed. Even in death, she haunts my narrative."

"Would you change your choices if you could restart?"

"Very much."

That was all Gwayne needed to hear. "We are both too stubborn for our own good."

"I want the best for you, Gwayne. I am sorry if I have never stated that. Your wife lives, as does your child. That is the greatest blessing that a man can receive."

"I am well aware," Gwayne smiled lightly. "I… I had to rule Old Town in your absence. I suppose it has been hard to step aside now that you've returned."

Otto smiled. "For now, I wish for you to tend to your family. Leave the rest to me."

Gwayne nodded, "I will." He turned to leave, but hesitated. "Father."

Otto's brows lifted.

Gwayne forced the words out, the feeling new. "Thank you."

Daeron had hidden around the corner, listening to the entire exchange.

…

"Do promise to write often," Y/n smiled as she held the small infant in her arms.

Otto strapped the last bag onto the horse, "I shall try."

She shifted the babe in her arms, "Gwayne has… spoken well of you, as of late." She smiled teasingly, "Do you know why?"

Otto faked a confused look. "Has he? Haven't the faintest idea."

"Well, know that he does. Perhaps he's only now respecting the challenge that fatherhood brings."

He grinned, "I will pray that your son is only half of the battle that Gwayne is."

She laughed, "He is a Hightower. We both know that a prayer like that is worthless. He will be a fighter until his dying day."

Gwayne walked to the pair, pulling his wife to his side, "When will you return?"

Otto shrugged, "When I am granted leave next. I am uncertain. Care for Daeron for me still."

The red head nodded, "You know I always will."

Y/n stepped forward and kissed Otto's cheek, "We shall await the day you return."

He looked at the two. The love they shared was obvious. "As do I."

He mounted his horse. 

Y/n muttered something about feeding the babe and excused herself, leaving Otto and Gwayne.

"And Gwayne? You're a good father."

He felt a small twist in his gut.

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[theereina]

Where You Going?

Pairing: Toxic Husband!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, Dom!Terry, Toxic!Terry, alluding to spanking *if you squint*, rough sex

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

As my opened suitcase lay on the bed, I only thought of getting as much of my stuff packed before he came home. I had no other priorities besides leaving. It was 7:02, so I had less than 2 hours before he left work.

“Fuck! I can't find my ring,” I said rushing into the bathroom.

I was struggling to search for it in the chaos I had created. The entire house was a mess. I had singlehandedly destroyed every room in less than 4 hours. No room was left unturned, and I didn't care about how the house looked. This would become his problem after I left. Maybe, he would finally pay attention to something other than his job and friends.

I lifted all of the items on the bathroom counter. To my surprise, I still couldn't find it. I remembered taking it off and sitting it on the counter before doing my hair a few days ago. The prongs always found a way to get tangled in the coils of my 4c hair. I chose to take the ring off rather than deal with my hair constantly getting snagged. Since removing my ring was something I always did, I didn't notice that I didn't have it until this morning.

“You know what?! He'll find it. I don't care anymore,” I said, huffing as I leaned against the counter.

I looked into the mirror, taking in my appearance. This was something I hadn't done in weeks. I was frightened by my reflection in the mirror. My hair hadn't been done in weeks. I was still slicking back the same low bun from almost a month ago. There wasn't an eyelash left in my lash extensions. My eyes were sporting dark circles and sunken from exhaustion. My chin and forehead were covered in stress pimples. Had I really let this man's bullshit drain me of the energy to even take care of myself?

“Arghhh… What the fuck is happening to me?” I said, swiping everything thing off the counter onto the floor.

I stumbled backward and braced myself against the outside glass of the shower door. I was falling apart at the seams. There was no way in hell I would spend another moment crying. All I wanted was for my husband to notice me and say something.

I hadn't heard an “I love you” in weeks. We barely slept in the same bed because he was always working overtime. Even simple conversations were non-existent or interrupted by phone calls. I was tired of the same fucked up routine— wake up, work, gym, home, sleep. Terry was no longer even a part of my current life routine, and he, for damn sure, wasn't making me a part of his.

I walked out of the bathroom, feeling dizzy. I knew that meant my anxiety was about to start whooping my ass.

As I walked up to the bed, I pushed a pile of unwanted clothes out of my way. I practically threw myself on the bed. I lay back and began taking deep breaths. I needed to calm down.

After what I thought was a minute or so, I leaned up and stared at my suitcase. I was honestly so exhausted after today.

I looked down at the watch on my wrist. It read 7:34. Realizing I was running out of time, I grabbed the suitcase and zipped it quickly. I wanted to be gone well before he left work so there was no chance of us running into each other.

I stood up, holding the suitcase. I let it fall to the floor and extended the handle. I turned towards the bedroom door. All I had to do now was walk out the front door and leave.

I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. Walking out into the hallway, the house felt eerily quiet. Pulling the suitcase down the hall, I realized how cold it was inside the home. That meant it was even colder outside.

I left my suitcase to sit at the corner of the wall which led to the opening of the living room. I quickly turned on my heels and walked back towards the room. I practically sprinted through the open door. Walking back to the bed, I began to toss the clothes onto the floor in search of a small jacket or sweater. Once I found the top of my black velour tracksuit, I slipped it on and zipped it up.

Back on my mission, I exited the room. It was the same ordeal as before. I went back down the hall, grabbed my suitc—. Where's my suitcase? I stopped to stare at where my suitcase was supposed to be. I turned back to look down the hall. I walked into the living room and began to panic.

“Where you going?” said a male's voice. I knew that voice all too well— Terry.

I spun around to find him sitting in a recliner in the dark. I couldn't see anything but the outline of his frame. Even in this state, his energy was nerve-racking.

“Huh?” I asked, spotting my suitcase on the floor beside him.

“I mean, you walked in here and put your suitcase down like you were about to go somewhere. So, where you going?” he asked, standing from the recliner.

With that statement, I realized Terry had been here the whole time. There was no telling when he had gotten home.

“Baby girl, I asked you a question. Where you going?” he asked, crossing his arms.

From this angle, I still couldn't see him. The small amount of moonlight from the window only illuminated the bottom of his pants and shoes. I felt like I was talking to a shadow which was making this so much harder than it needed to be.

I refused to answer his question. I knew if I talked it would only lead to me stuttering like a fool.

I quickly walked across the living room and snatched the suitcase from the floor. I turned to make a beeline for the door.

“You don't think I noticed your spoiled ass pouting?” Terry asked, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“Well, you didn't act like you did!” I yelled as I turned to face him. Unbeknownst to me, Terry was now right behind me. Not a sound was made to alert me of his movements. I stood there in shock, startled by his presence.

“Why should I? You're a grown a— grown woman. You have no problem using your mouth any other time. Why didn't you this time, huh? You forgot how to communicate, love?” Terry asked, leaning down.

As much as I wanted to curse him out, I couldn't. Every emotion was raging through me all at once.

“Fuck you!” I yelled, fighting back tears of anger.

I was pissed at myself. I had planned out this whole scenario— how I would act and what I would say. It was as if everything went out the window when he was in my face.

“Simmer down, baby girl,” Terry said, kissing my forehead.

“Or, what?” I said, stomping my foot and pushing him away.

Terry stood there, glaring at me. I don't know whether he was pissed or impressed. Hell, he may have been both. I forced myself to hold eye contact, trying my hardest to stand my ground.

Terry stood to his full height and scoffed. He took a single deep breath and let his hand run over his mouth. He was clearly agitated, but I couldn't care less.

I pulled the suitcase closer to me, backing up towards the door. Terry reached out and grabbed the handle of the suitcase.

“Hey!” I yelled.

I reached out to snatch it back, but Terry was quicker. He pushed the suitcase behind his back.

“You want it, then come get it!” he said, walking towards the hallway.

“Fuck it. I don't need it,” I said, turning to walk towards the door.

I open the door halfway before Terry's hand reaches over me to slam it shut, bracing his hand against the door. I tried to pry the door open, but even with one hand, Terry was stronger than me. I yell out in frustration.

“Imma ask you one more time. Where you going?” he asked, looking down at me.

I walked back into the living room, pouting. This was clearly not going the way I planned.

“Leave me the hell alone!” I yelled, turning back to the door where Terry was standing. His body acting a blocker.

“Imma let you know this now if you walk out this door, I'm changing the damn locks. TONIGHT!” Terry shouted, pointing at the door behind him.

“You can't lock me out of my house!” I yelled, getting closer to him.

“Our house, and try me. I can, and I will!” Terry declared, crossing his arms. He widened his stance as he glared at me.

“I can't stand you!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

“Oh, really. That's how you feel, baby girl?” he said, smirking.

“That's what the fuck I said, ain't it?” I rebutted.

“You know what? Fine, here. You wanna leave so bad. Go! Here's your chance. I'm not even gonna stop you!” he said, putting the suitcase in front of me and opening the door.

I placed my hand on the handle. I stood there unsure of what to do. Why the fuck was he just giving up like this? What the fuck was going on?

“All you gotta do is answer my question. Where you going?” he asked, stepping closer to me.

I looked back and forth between him and the floor. I didn't have an answer because I didn't plan on having to explain myself.

“I…. I… I don't know!” I yelled, stomping angrily.

“You don't even have a plan, do you?” Terry scoffed in disbelief.

“No…. So, what?” I asked desperately trying to save face.

“Of course, you don't! Give me the suitcase,” Terry said, rolling his eyes.

“No!” I yelled.

“Give it here! I ain't asking you. I'm telling you. Do you not understand the difference, baby girl?” he asked, holding his hand out.

I contemplated my next move. Truthfully, I was all out of options. I handed Terry the suitcase. He grabs the handle and lifts the suitcase in the air. He unzipped it and dumped all of my clothes on the floor. He slung the empty suitcase across the room.

I look down at the pile of clothes in disbelief. My eyes dart back up to Terry's. This man was insane.

Terry used his foot to slam the door shut. Without turning around, he reached behind him and locked the front door.

“Don't look at me. Go in the room. We need to talk before we go to bed,” he said, flexing his hands. He stood in front of me rolling his shoulders.

“We can talk right here!” I blurted. I knew that if I walked back into our bedroom, I was in for a “treat”.

“Nah, we not doing that kinda talkin'. Let's go!” he barked.

I looked at him, fighting through my thoughts. I stood in place and crossed my arms.

“Ughh!” Terry grunted and picked me up.

“No! Put me down!” I yelled, pushing at Terry's back.

He carried me out of the living room and down the hallway. Walking into the bedroom, he placed me in front of the foot of the bed.

“You got one minute to strip, or I'm ripping it off of you myself!” Terry said, standing in front of me.

“And if I don't?” I mumbled under my breath.

“You keep acting like you really got options here. I'm being polite by letting you think you do. Don't play with me, baby girl. Strip!” Terry said.

“Why do you always do this?” I asked, pouting even harder. I threw my head back in defeat.

“Do what?” Terry asked, licking his lips. His eyebrows knitted together as he waited for an answer.

“This! You always… just… I don't know. This! I can never just leave!” I shouted. I didn't know what to say.

“Take a second to think about what you just said. You do this same thing over and over again. Yet, every time you do I stop you. If I am always able to stop you, did you ever wanna leave? Love, maybe I know my wife better than she does. Maybe, I'm used to your bullshit and tantrums, baby girl,” Terry said through gritted teeth.

“I hate you,” I sulked, feeling stupid. He had me all figured out. This was pissing me off.

“You what?” Terry challenged, getting closer.

“You heard me. I fucking hate you!” I yelled in Terry's face.

“Hahaha, imma make you eat those words. I hope you know that. Tuh! You so funny, baby girl,” Terry laughed, leaning so that his forehead rested on mine. “Now, strip! Don't think I forgot. Since you wanna play games, you got 30 seconds this time,” he lulled as he stood back and crossed his arms.

I begin to strip as slowly as possible. I unzipped my jacket at a turtle’s pace and pulled the arms of my jacket off one at a time. I could see this was pissing Terry off. His face was telling it all as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Without warning, Terry grabbed me and pushed me on the bed. Clothes be damned!

20 minutes later

I had taken my punishment of 15 spankings with pride. Honestly, that was nothing compared to what he was doing right now.

“You gone clean this shit up, right?” Terry said, pounding my pussy in.

I could feel his dick bottoming out and kissing my cervix with ease. I knew he was going to wear my ass out, but I didn't expect this. He hadn't let up since we started. He went from tearing my ass up to stuffing me with dick.

“Yes, Daddy!” I screamed out.

Every inch of his dick was being swallowed by my pussy. He didn't care that I was fighting for my life. He was too busy watching himself slide in and out of me— egotistical green-eyed bastard.

Terry grabbed the back of my legs and pushed them into my chest. My knees were practically hitting the mattress. I was feeling an intense burn in my abdomen and thick thighs from this man folding me in half.

“Baby girl just wanted some dick, huh?” he asked as his hips snapped against my already sore ass.

“Yes, I'm sorry!” I moaned out into the air.

I glance up at Terry to find him smirking at me. Terry's arms wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“Nah… You hate me. Remember?” he asked as a devilish grin spread across his face.

He flattened his body on top of me and let his full weight fall on me, pressing me into the mattress. I didn't know what this position was, but I knew it was about to fuck me up.

As if his dick was magic, this position made me feel like he was deeper than before. How? His dick couldn't grow, could it?

He rested his forehead on mine and looked into my eyes.

“Tell me you hate me, now! Come on! Go ahead! I wanna hear it!” Terry said, leaning in and kissing me softly.

Terry slowed his strokes down, punishing me. Unfortunately, I couldn't speak or think. I didn't know what he expected from me.

“Daddy, I can't!” I mewled through gritted teeth. Hot tears flowed freely down the sides of my face.

“Nah. Stop telling me what you can't do! Tell me you hate me again. I wanna hear it!” Terry said, sliding his hand around the front of my neck.

Terry applied a small amount of pressure to the front of my throat, causing me to whimper from the pressure. I was beginning to squirm under him. I couldn't focus on anything but my half-assed breathing.

“Don’t worry, love. I'm about to make you hate me,” he said, kissing me again.

He grabbed a hold of the back of my neck and pulled me onto his lap. Lifting me slightly, he reached his hand between us to enter me again. I let out a small and desperate whimper. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. (position)

“You givin’ up on me? Baby girl… Look at me. Stay focused on me,” he said, thrusting upward.

Sadly, I was too fucked out to fuck back. It was as if all of the power and energy he had left was being used against me right now. His hands gripped the underside of my ass tightly. Using this as leverage, he would lift me a little and let me drop down into his thrusts.

I promise you from this day forward I will never tell this man I hate him again. The sound coming from our skin slapping together was deafening and thunderous. I couldn't believe the amount of energy this man still had. My pussy was gonna love hate me later.

“Daddy wants your apology to be as loud as your disrespect! Let me hear it!” he shouted, pulling my hair so that my face was pointed at the ceiling.

It was clear to me that this was purely punishment for me and amusement for him.

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” Terry asked, kissing all over my face.

“Yes, Daddy!” I groaned, falling into him.

“Then, I better hear my goddamn apology! Come on! You better not cum before I get it either!” Terry said, licking the side of my neck.

I honestly could have cum from that alone. I moaned out in a whimper. His hands released from my body, but I knew better than to think he was done. He grabbed my waist and flipped me over. Using one hand, he pulled me back onto him and into a kneeling position. His chest now rested against my back.

“Don't move,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my shoulders and neck.

Entering me again with ease, he wrapped one hand around my throat while holding my body taut to his. In this position, I could feel every breath he took.

“Now, what did I say? You can't cum until you apologize, right?” he taunted.

His thrusts became slow and intentional. It was evident that Terry had a point to make, and he was going to drive it home whether I could handle it or not.

As if he could hear my thoughts, his other hand found my clit. He began rubbing and stroking along the underside of it. I felt like I was physically melting.

Before he could say another word, I began to speak. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't… ahh… fuck… I don't hate you. Please!” I screamed into the air.

I was being fucked into submission clearly because instead of letting up, he went harder. His fingers began to rub my clit even faster, his other hand tightened around my throat, and his stroke became more vicious. I was falling and fast. My ears were ringing and listening was becoming impossible.

“Nah… Say… that… shit… louder. Come on!” he said, enunciating with every thrust.

I gasped and drew in a deep breath, causing me to cough.

I could finally feel the beginning signs of his orgasm, which meant relief was near. However, I knew Terry could hold off as long as he needed or wanted to.

“Please, Daddy! I’m sorry. I’ll never… ahh.. I’ll never say it again. Please, just let me cum!” I yelled even louder than the first time.

I was struggling to catch my breath at this point. I was so close. I could feel the muscles of my pussy tightening around Terry’s dick like a boa constrictor, and the pressure building up in my abdomen had reached its peak.

Pulling me back into a kiss, Terry spoke low and directly into my ear. “Cum! Now! You… got… this,” he said in between kisses.

With a potency laced with pleasure, I released the biggest flood I ever had. My legs began to shake, and my body fell forward. Terry instantly tightened his hold on me, forcing me to stay up. I couldn't feel my legs. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, preferably under him.

“Oh, baby. We’re almost done. Let Daddy finish,” Terry rumbled into my ear.

It wasn't like I had a choice anyway. He clearly wasn't stopping. He let go of my body, letting me fall forward with his dick still inside me. Of course, he would finish like this. His favorite position is doggy style. Placing one hand on my upper back, his hips dipped with every thrust. Miraculously, I felt the need to cum again. I wasn't even going to ask for permission with this one. Hell, I couldn't.

“That’s right, baby. Now, tell Daddy what we learned?” Terry demanded.

I pressed my face into the mattress because how in the hell was he expecting me to speak? Pulling my head up by my hair and undoing the last remnants of what was supposed to be a bun, he positioned me on all fours.

“Talk! I need to know that this ain't gone ever happen again. Because in this house, we respect Daddy, right?” he said, slowing his strokes again.

‘Ahhh, fuck… Yes, we… Daddy respect!” I yelled drunkenly.

“Awww, listen to my baby. You so dick dumb, right now. Daddy’s dick fuckin’ you up, huh?” he asked, pounding into me slowly.

All I could do was respond with a low yes and moan, causing Terry to let out a ragged laugh.

“Mmmm… cumming, now!” I yelled.

“Daddy is too. Don’t move!” he said, gripping my hip and pushing me deeper into the mattress.

Terry’s climax crashed with mine. His cum and mine flooded my pussy. The intense combination of fluids forced Terry out of me. I fell forward on the bed, immediately laying flat on my stomach. My body was exhausted and sore. I crashed into recovery mode as my eyes immediately shut. I was practically half-asleep as soon as my body hit the bed.

Terry laughed behind me. “And what did we learn?” Terry asked, stepping backward off the bed.

“Mmm… We don't disrespect, Daddy. I'm sorry. I love you,” I mumbled.

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” Terry said, smacking my ass.

The lesson of today is that I’m not going any-fuckin’-where.😉

Taglist: @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kimuzostar @episodes-ff @megamindsecretlair @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @brattyfics @avoidthings @keyaho @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @onherereading @nayaesworld @phuckyoreblogs @venusincleo @1darknymph @insertcatchynamerighthere @honeytoffee @mitruscity @ladypegusus-blog @lettersofgold @jimmybutlrr @5headsupremacist @blowmymbackout @babybratzmaraj @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @pinkpantheris @talkswithdesi @helloncrocs @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned

[abigailmoment]

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

-

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

-

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 

-

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him. 

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

-

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

****

[nightwngz]

Older bat! Damian with super or wonder reader who's like sheltered and oblivious to the real world and they go on a mission or smith together and the whole times she's just doing whatever he says because that's what she's used to and he's just like damnn and finds that really attractive

— 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ! ☆

older!damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble smut. porn with a plot. dirty talk. fingering. Damian uses Arabic nicknames.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I don't know how I feel about myself today, but I decided to write this for you anyway. I hope you like it. <3

It was one of the first times you, a young girl exiled from the real world and born on an island paradise inhabited only by women, had contact with what was considered 'the real world.' You were not yet accustomed to many things, especially the existence of men, or perhaps men like Damian Wayne.

On Themyscira, you were used to following orders. When the Queen or your trainer told you to "do this," you knew exactly what to do. But when you joined the Justice League and met Batman, you initially believed you were supposed to act the same way. You soon realized that maybe you should have listened when Jon told you to ignore him completely.

At that moment, Damian Wayne, now known as Batman, was the last person you wanted to be trapped with in a situation like this. The two of you were locked in a reinforced room with no way out, where neither your strength nor your wits could help you get out. So you found yourself trapped with the one man who liked to bark orders like he was the king of Gotham.

— You really don't know what to do? — He asked, annoying you again. — Before, Wonder Women were effective.

However, you tried to heed Jon's advice; thus, you responded to him without intending to participate in his game.

— Yes, and in my land, men didn't even exist. So I'm just getting used to working with the inefficiency of one.

Damian slowly approached the box you were sitting in with an annoying grin on his face.

— In fact, I am a detective. Of course I know how to get out of here.

Your confused expression made him smile even harder at your confusion. You weren't sure if it was fair to feel like a complete idiot, but that was exactly how you felt at that moment. Besides, you didn't like him at all.

— And you never thought to open the door, or are you just trying to annoy me by making me live with you?

— Actually... — He replied, moving even closer to you. — I'm testing you. Go and open the door as best you can — He finally ordered.

And as if it were a sacred word, you stood up, determined to open the door to the room at any cost. At first, you tried to break it down with blows, but your strength wasn't enough. It was probably made of some incredibly strong material, possibly of alien origin.

— Try pulling the doorknob with your lasso — he suggested, and once again, you listened.

Damian couldn't help but find the way you obeyed like a trained dog incredibly attractive. Deep down, he felt that he had you at his mercy and that no matter what he asked you to do, you would listen.

Totally exhausted from the effort, you knelt on the ground, but you didn't give up. Feeling sorry for you, he reached over to stroke your hair, trying to calm you down.

— Pretty obedient little thing. — He flattered, lifting your chin so you could look him in the eye. — You don't know how to say no, do you?

A wave of intense heat enveloped you. Perhaps it was the first time you had ever found yourself in an intimate situation with someone, as you had always believed that your body was trained solely for an impending war. Yet, when Damian was around, that was the one purpose of your training you occasionally forgot.

— If I asked you to take off your underwear, would you be so obedient, habibati?

Your cheeks reddened immediately. You knew you should avoid this kind of situation, but having been trained on the island, you understood that you had to follow the orders of a superior. Batman was more experienced than you, making him your superior, and you felt obligated to obey him.

Immediately your panties fell down under the metal skirt of your suit, exposing your pussy to the man in the room.

From what you knew about men, you noticed they often looked for specific qualities in women. However, Damian had never shown any boldness towards you. As time passed, the 'sexual tension' that Jon had mentioned began to feel more like an annoyance.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he smiled as usual. But his smile was not one of despair; it was one of desire.

He knelt down to be at the same height as you. Gently, he slid a finger down your soaked pussy while keeping his eyes on yours, watching for any reaction on your face.

You understood what he was doing and how he was touching every part of the anatomy between your legs with precision. What you didn't understand was how he was so skilled at it.

You couldn't hold back your moans as you felt him gently pinch your now throbbing clit. His touch drove you crazy as you felt waves of pleasure crash against you.

— Damn, what a good girl. Sorry to tell you, Habibati... I have a weakness for obedient women.

[jensthwa]

a very show & tell christmas (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

It's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first Christmas as a couple but not your first one together. As he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

PAIRING: mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: stablished relationship, holidays special!

WORD COUNT: 7k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI), mingi's pov, a loooot of fluff and love talk, pet names (love, my love, babe), mistletoe kisses, heart felt gifts, messy kisses, mingi and reader briefly discuss something that i've come to learn is called sweater fetish but i don't know if the scene counts as that but just letting you know, oral sex (f receiving), reader asks mingi to 'use' her, hard but romantic sex, unprotected sex (booo, wrap it up please), marriage discussion at the end omg?

NOTES: happy holidays everyone! I've been wanting to write mingi's perspective of everything that went down in s&t for a while so I took the chance to write it for the holidays because what better time to reminisce about everything you've ever lived than december am I right? [nervous chuckle]. I hope you're having a wonderful month and i hope next year treats you even better! THIS IS PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH SERIES BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 25th 2024.

Mingi remembers the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. It's an image so vivid, so impactful in his life that there's no way he could ever, ever forget. 

He was playing soccer on the street, with two friends who moved away that same year and he doesn't really remember them all that well now. He kicked the ball so hard it landed in your yard as you were doing something else. Playing with dirt? He doesn't really remember, you might've been but it didn't matter because it was also the first time he realized he could fall in love.

Granted, he didn't fall in love immediately. He was, after all, just a fourteen year old boy and he didn't understand those feelings just yet. It was that transitional period of a kid’s life where the desire to connect with someone else was strong but definitely not a priority. 

Besides, he didn't realize, until many years had gone by, that the first time that he saw you and he felt time stop, he also saw a life with you: the five seconds it took for the ball to roll over to your feet after almost punching you in the face and he sort of assumed you were going to be in his life forever. 

And you are going to be in his life forever. In one way or another, but he promised you that forever a while ago, in his head, in his dreams and in the way he cares about you, for you. In the way his heart hurts when you're not around, when you two fight. In the way his heart sings when he kisses you, the way it dances and beats against his chest when you smile at him, because of him, around him. 

And when he hears you laugh? Pfft. He melts at the sound. 

He's melting even now, after being officially together a little over a year, as you laugh with your mom and his mom while decorating the Christmas tree at his house. 

Well, not decorating it exactly. You three went shopping earlier today and somehow your mom convinced his mom that the old ornaments did not go with the living room aesthetic anymore and she bought new ones for them. 

The only ones that are old now, that the redecorating party is finishing with the tree, are the ones you and him have shared over the years. 

The one you got at fifteen, that resembles a snow globe with two snowmans inside of it, holding hands and with your names engraved in wood underneath it. The one he got at seventeen that's a little simpler but you say it's your favorite: two gingerbread cookies holding a heart sign with your initials in it, one of the cookies kissing the other’s cheek. 

You two have been alternating years of getting each other ornaments and deciding which house they're staying at. This year, however, you went for a different approach to the tradition. Each of you painted an ornament, a traditional one, with something festive that alludes to one another. 

He, seeing that you've been talking snoopy for half a year, tried his best to paint the character on top of his dog house, decorated by Christmas lights and with a red ribbon to tie it to the tree that illuminates your living room up the street. 

Now, he watches carefully as you hang near the other ornaments, the one you hand painted to look like a chicken. Initially, you tried to convince him it was a penguin but it can't possibly be. It's more yellow than black or white and even if you tried to tell him it's a specific type of penguin you saw in happy feet there's nothing that indicates that it's not a chicken.

“Oh, well, it fits him.” His mother says at your explanation, hugging your mother tightly as she fondly watches you hang the ornament up. You turn around when you finish, tongue out at him childishly. 

He pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and getting up to playfully tug at the tongue you're sticking out to him still “Mom, you're supposed to be on my side.” 

“I am!” She defends herself, smiling like she's totally not on his side. “It does look a little bit like you, dear. Even your little mole here.” 

You take the opportunity to press on your tippy toes and kiss the mole his mom is pointing out, only to get more aws from them. 

“I win.” You whisper to him, proud of yourself and he can't help but smile at you as you pull away. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you. It was the first time he called you by his favorite endearment: love. 

He remembers the ice cream shop you both were at, he remembers the conversation being more of a confession that you had a crush on a friend of his, he remembers the guy serving the ice cream complaining about the fridge hardly working and he remembers the blush on your cheeks as you admitted to want to be called love because…

“That's what good boyfriend's do,” you said, ice cream on your fingers that you quickly wipe away with an already sticky napkin, “So we're going to get together and I'm going to be called love from that moment on.” 

He knew you were talking about his friend but his heart skipped a beat anyway. He had to focus on what you were telling him, not on the pretty smile you gave him or the relief he felt when he realized the one thing that would lead you straight (or not so straight) to disappointment. 

His friend was a very proud but not that  out gay man. 

But Mingi decided to not mess with it, he always let you fight your battles alone if those battles ended up with you learning a lesson and without a scratch, anyway. 

“Good luck with that, love.” 

“Ugh, no, you don't get to call me that!” 

The nickname stuck either way. Even if, at the time, he pushed those feelings down deep inside of him. 

Because you were his love, but you were also his best friend ever and he was just a dude. A boy, even. 

He didn't know better and so, eventually, you got a boyfriend. Great dude, worshipped you like you deserved and all.

Mingi remembers the way he felt when you told him you loved Han. He hated the guy, hated the way he made you smile, hated the fact that he trusted him of all people because, well, there was and there will never be someone who loves you more than Mingi. 

Han thought he was the one, you didn't. But even after breaking up with Han, Mingi stood still. He understood his feelings, his protectiveness over you, as something platonic. But he didn't really have time to think about it with your head on his chest, on his bed, over the sheets and with the door wide open because it was a school night after all. 

School night meant no sleepovers, but his mom didn't ask you to leave when she saw you with tears in your eyes at their front door. Mingi didn't ask you to leave as you soaked his sweatshirt with said tears, either. 

“I don't know why I did it, Mingi. I don't… He did nothing wrong.” 

“You said you felt he was not the one.” 

Your regretful eyes looked up at him “But what if he was?” 

“He's not,” he whispered back to you and, at the time, he didn't know why. He had no reason to tell you Han wasn't the one for you, but his subconscious knew things he didn't accept back then. “You wouldn't be doubting it at all if he was, love.” 

You ended up sleeping over that night, door wide open still, your mom texting him when she couldn't reach you on the phone. 

He helped you through that breakup, just like you helped him with his first breakup as well. 

He helped you mend your own wounds, he saw you grow stronger after the pain went away, he felt proud of you when you started showing up to your first uni parties without him having to convince you to go. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he wanted to kiss you. You two were laying under the stars, a little hazy and on a rooftop you definitely shouldn't be up in. 

That probably wasn't the actual first time he wanted to kiss you, just the first time he admitted it to himself. Your friends were on the rooftop as well, dancing around, yelling, being silly, just as drunk as you two were or worse but, for a moment, it was quiet. Now that he thinks back to it, he probably imagined it. 

The noise quieting down, that is. 

Mingi remembers that he had turned to you to ask what you thought was going on but your eyes were closed. He remembers the breath he took in as he traced the side of your face with his eyes, carefully, like the staring alone would get you out of whatever peace you were enjoying at the moment.

Have your lips always been so perfect and inviting? He answered himself immediately: Yes, of course they are perfect, she's perfect. 

He doesn't really know how he didn't realize it right then and there. When his heart soared at the thought of it, of disturbing your peace only to kiss you. 

And then the noise came back, laughing and screeching and something alarming came out of Jongho’s mouth. 

“Shit, shit. Security!”

You opened our eyes and found him already staring at you. He should've felt embarrassed to be caught, but you smiled at him before rushing to your feet, offering your hand and shaking it for him to take it. 

“Can you get up or should I stay and be escorted out with you?” 

No one got caught that night except, maybe, his heart. 

Because he realized he loved you around a week after that, as he saw you do the most mundane task ever: washing your teeth in front of your bathroom sink, still trying to rant about something that pissed you off in one of your classes. He remembers pressing his shoulder against the doorframe and looking at your and your frown through the mirror. He also remembers the frantic beat of his heart as he realized he wanted to do just this with you every day of his life. 

Going to bed together, waking up next to you and listening to you rant about things you're going to forget the next day. He never wanted that with anyone else, only you. 

You, you, you. He got so lovesick the next year after that he tried desperately to cover it up. With different activities, with people kissing his neck at parties after dancing for a while, with anything and everything that could distract him from the fact that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you. 

Not because he didn't want to explore but because every single time he tried to say something, the words would die down under the weight of years of friendship and loyal companionship. 

He couldn't lose you, he didn't even know how to make sure you liked him back! 

And so the yearning got unbearable enough for everyone in your friend group to notice it, except for, well, you. 

“At some point you have to tell her about it, right?” 

No one in the group presses on things. Woo and Gyuri (Woo’s ex girlfriend who, somehow, is still his friend and everyone's friend as well) maybe, but when it comes to matters of the heart, they let everyone be. So it surprised him when Seonghwa, of all people, spoke on it. 

“You can't keep looking at her like that from a distance and waiting for it to pass, Mingi. It's not going to pass.” 

He remembers sighing and then giving you one more glance before turning to his friend.

“She probably doesn't feel the same.” 

“Who cares? You're never going to find out keeping it to yourself.” Seonghwa gave him a tiny smile before bumping his shoulder against his, both teasingly and reassuring. “Besides, she loves you too much to allow some romantic feelings to get in the way. Just… Think about it, yeah? Not forcing you here,” he shrugged, “but we all do, kind of, maybe, want you two to kiss.” 

Snorting a laugh, Mingi remembers shaking his head no and then thinking about it for, at least, three months after that before actually making a move. 

He remembers feeling humiliated by one of his attempts to put his feelings for you to rest, he remembers confiding in you and your friends, he remembers when you agreed to tell him how to make it right the next time he slept with anyone else. He doesn't really remember asking you to show him. 

His mind disconnected after he saw the blush painting your cheeks beautifully, his heart took over him when he kneeled in front of you to kiss you that first time, when he allowed himself to give in and touch you like he had wanted to for so long. 

And then the days and the months blended so gracefully after that summer that he doesn't really recall when the weather started getting cold, just that the color of the snow contrasts against your winter coat when you both go outside after having Christmas dinner at his house, with both your parents and his present. 

They were friends before, but now? They see each other more than you two. 

Well, that's a lie, but almost. And, like all best friends do when spending the holidays together, they get lost in good conversation and company, in a bubble made out of wine and laughter, cozy enough that it allows you and Mingi to slip out of his house hand in hand easily. 

You have a little smile as you look around the street like you don't know the houses you pass on the way to yours. He wants to indulge you, but the words slip out his mouth without even thinking about it. 

“Am I walking you home because you wanted to change into something more comfortable or because you want to give me an additional Christmas gift, love?” 

“Stop ruining it! You know I'm not good at hiding things,” you click your tongue, pretending to be disappointed and kick the snow with your boot when you stop and pull him close, “We haven't got alone time in forever.” 

“Two days,” he says with a nod, arms going around you and head going down to kiss your lips tenderly for a quick second, “Three, if we count today.” 

You pout “That's like… A lifetime.” 

“I know,” he gives in, chuckling against your lips, “I'm going through withdrawal symptoms and all.” 

He watches as you close your eyes and lean in. He gets ready for it, inhaling cold air that hits his lungs as a reminder where you two are, what he's allowed to enjoy in public, and closes his eyes as he waits for your kiss that never comes. 

Instead, your nose nuzzles his softly, barely nudging the skin and you take a step back, taking his gloved hand and intertwining it with yours “I also may or may not have a gift for you.” 

Smiling in victory, Mingi fakes an annoyed gasp “I knew it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you're so smart,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and entering your front yard without letting go of him. “Hurry, I'm freezing!” 

“This was your idea, love.” He deadpans but hurries anyways and afterwards, as the warmth of the foyer allows him to shrug off his coat and leave it in its designated spot by the door, he laughs at your clear enthusiasm. 

You're already shoeless, coatless, gloveless and scarfless and waiting at the third step of the stairs, impatiently blinking at him as a signal to hurry up, again. And when goes upstairs with you, you make him promise to keep his eyes closed as he walks towards your room. 

“You're too tall, I can't cover them with my hands so promise, Song Mingi.” 

“My eyes are literally closed!” 

He hears a door open. It has that creaking sound the door to your room has and when the smell of your perfume hits him as you press your hands to his chest to stop him, he doesn't have to open his eyes to know where he is. He knows his way around these halls anyway. 

You turn him, so that his back is probably facing your room, and then instruct: 

“Look up and open your eyes.” 

Mistletoe. That's what he sees when he opens his eyes: mistletoe that is badly tape to your door frame, just above him. It makes him smile and then the best friend in him takes over when he looks down at you and your blushed cheeks. 

“Love… That's so chees—” 

“Just kiss me, you idiot.” 

And he does. He lifts you up from the floor and you bury your fingers in his hair before securing your legs around his waist and he walks the room he knows like the back of his hand until he reaches the bed. He doesn't sit down or puts you down yet, lazily opening your mouth with his tongue when you sigh against him. 

“Wait— Mm,” you speak against his mouth, words silenced by his eager tongue a second later. He has to physically throw his head back to stop himself from kissing you further, but when his eyes return to his face, his will almost falters. “That was not the gift.” 

“Okay.” He breathes out, smiling. 

“Sit on the floor.”

He does and the carpet is soft under his fidgeting hands as he watches you move around the room. You go into your closet (literally, you disappear behind the closed doors) and when you come back with a large box he blinks a few times in astonishment.

Huge box, really. It almost doesn't fit the space between you when you sit down in front of him and glance at him excitedly, a shy color to your voice when you speak again “Open it!” 

There's no way he can help the smile that curves his lips when he opens the box and finds an assortment of handmade things. Yes, the ornament that you made may have looked like something else entirely, but he starts to believe you made it on purpose when he pulls out the first gift: a bouquet made out of candy, his favorite sweets. 

“This is beautiful, love…” 

He lets out a chuckle when you steal one immediately and he promises to dig into it once he goes through all the gifts. 

There's a box with a card underneath that he goes to pick up but you stop him with a trembling hand “Save that one for last.” And he notices you're a little bit nervous, so he does, his own heart skipping at what might've inside the box, a similar yet smaller one weighing on the pocket of the coat he left downstairs. 

The other things left on the box are a few bills in the shape of hearts and a wooden sphere that he finds out, seconds later, it's a picture museum. 

“I couldn't fit every important picture we took together in a regular shaped box so I had to get this one.” You explain as he looks at the inside of the sphere. It looks like a miniature museum and Mingi feels like crying a little, so he takes your hand in his and gives it a kiss to ground himself “They're in chronological order, too, I had to consult the ancient texts to get them all right!” 

He laughs, confused “The ancient texts?” 

“Yes, my Instagram story archive.” You return, nodding and he gives your hand another kiss before letting it go to set down the museum next to the bills and the bouquet.

You let out a shaky breath when he returns his attention to the box and picks it up. You pick up the card. 

“Before you open it, let me read this to you.” 

“Of course,” he returns softly and takes the trembling hand you're extending in his direction. 

“First of all, look at how cute this is,” you turn the card and inside of it, it's decorated with kisses. Your kisses. Mingi would recognize them anywhere and he tries to take the card from you but you bat his hand away with it. “Later, let me read this to you. Um… 

“Dear Mingi,” he giggles at the formality of your tone and then forces himself to stop at the look you give him. “Dear Mingi,” you start again, “I don't have a way with words and I've re-written this letter a thousand times but I think I have come to terms with the fact that there are no words invented, no language discovered, that can accurately immortalize my feelings for you. The love I hold for you transcends everything and everyone, every concept ever created and every new idea future generations come up with. And, as I try to come up with a joke that can give this overdone confession any lightness, I have also come to terms with the fact that you're it for me. I already knew this, of course,” you laugh and he has to laugh a little, heartbeat on his throat and eyes full of tears and all, “I already knew how much I loved you. Platonically, romantically, it all has just blended into one because it doesn't really matter how I loved you, it just matters that I have the opportunity to do so, my love. I love you.” 

When your eyes catch his, the tears are already wetting his cheeks. 

“And now what didn't fit in the letter, because I chose this tiny ass card,” you laugh again, eyes already wet even though he can see you're telling yourself not to cry. “Our first Christmas together was the time I realized I wanted you in my life forever. It just felt right, like we belonged somehow and we do, Mingi. So I— Open the box.” You quickly say and when he does, the whole thing falls apart. 

Kind of. 

When he pulls the rope tied in a bow at the top and the sides fall he makes a noise of surprise that makes you laugh.

The sides have more pictures of you two and in the middle of the box there's another tiny box that he opens to find a necklace. 

With a ring that could fit him as its charm and a silver chain that's not too delicate but not too rough, just like the one he uses on a daily basis. 

The ring has your initials engraved on the inside and his initials engraved on the outside. He lets out a sob that prompts your tears to flow freely down your face and he catches you wiping them.

“I didn't want to give you this with the rest of your gifts this morning because, well, I'm shy and—” 

“You are not shy.” He speaks over you, wiping his tears. 

“And I didn't want our parents to scream marriage at us. I don't want to scream marriage at you either, my love,” you say before he gets any ideas. And it did cross his mind a second ago, but he's far from terrified of it. “But I wanted you to have something to remember me by, with our initials in it, as a token of how much I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't even know what to say. 

“A lot. I love you a lot, if you couldn't tell.” You add and he laughs and manages to scoot around the box of gifts to wrap his arms around your frame. You laugh into the skin of his neck, hugging him back. 

“I love you too,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear and his heart beating fast still. When he pulls back, you try to give him a kiss and he stops you, which prompts a confused look on your side. “You know that they say that overtime couples start to think alike?” 

“Look alike,” you correct with a tilt of your head and he gives you a look, so you backtrack, smiling. “No, yeah, couples start to think alike.” You nod and then let out a noise in protest of him getting up. 

He points his finger at you “Wait here.” 

And then he bolts downstairs, to his coat. 

It really does say something about you two, about the way your minds sync up at most needed time. Because as he enters your room, box in hand and knees hitting the carpet in front of you, he can tell you got his point immediately. 

“I'm not screaming marriage at you yet, love and I also didn't get you a letter or a chain to go with it, but—” He hands you the box and lets you open it, head immediately trying to paint into his memory the way you gasp at the ring, the way you take it delicately into your hands and examine it with care. “But I bought this months ago, in that antique shop you like so much because it reminded me of you and how could it not? Do you see how beautiful it is?”

It sparkles under your bedroom light, but he can see it from a distance: all the delicate details that make it look like there's two hands holding the pearl in the middle. In a way, it looks like two hands holding a heart. 

Just like you hold his heart. 

“As a token of your much I love you, Y/N.” 

You pout as he takes the ring and puts it on your finger. 

“You can't just steal my speech, Song Min—” 

He kisses you again. He can't not kiss you, he can't help but get you into your arms and thank you for choosing the ground to present your gift because he's anything but careful as he stands up, drags you with him, and sits on the bed with you on top of him. 

“Shit, hold on—” 

“Hm?” There's concern in the way your eyebrows crease and Mingi gets briefly distracted by how kissed out and breathless you look for a second before reaching for the floor. 

“My necklace,” he explains, reaching for the box and successfully getting it in his hand without having to take you off his lap. “Put it on for me, love?” 

“So you liked it?” You ask nonchalantly as you take the necklace, legs opening a bit more so that you're sitting further into his lap.

“You literally made me cry, Y/N. Tears,” he says, making a face that you catch before closing the clasp behind his neck. 

“Of joy?” You return in a whisper, eyes so sweet and smile so shy it makes him want to cry all over again. 

“I love you.” He says instead of answering the question, lips touching yours again, softly, wanting, forgetting you don't have a lot of time before your parents wonder where you went. 

There's no way careful thoughts can get through the fog your sighs against him create, in the way your teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip and pull until he's moaning, the sting of pain passing by as your tongue caresses his. 

You've been getting a little bold lately, the nature of your encounters is always passionate but, somewhat, normal. Mingi loves every second you decide to give yourself to him but he also fucking loves when you do shit you like. 

Like taking control of the kiss, pulling his hair so his head can fall back and you can slowly make it messier, sloppier, even after the sweet moment you two just shared. 

Hands start to roam freely and, by the time you pull on his hair to detach your mouth from his fully, he's already breathless and hard against the fabric of his pants, mouth wet with shared spit. 

He's sure his pupils are blown, he's sure he's red on the face and fucked out already. He knows his expression mirrors yours as you take him, and the necklace, in, eyes scanning his frame before you roll your hips against him. 

He moans pathetically. 

You smile at the sound. 

“Like anything you see?” He tries to tease you to no avail. 

“You look so hot like this…” The hand tangled in his hair moves and he closes his eyes to welcome the feeling of your nails softly digging into his skin as they make their way into his neck, over the necklace and the ring resting against his collarbone. 

“With the necklace on?” 

“And the sweater.” 

He glances at his beige sweater with an arched brown and then he looks at your sweater, a warmer tone of beige than his, the neck a little high but not high enough to be considered a turtle neck, with the same expression. 

He puts the pieces together and then scoffs out an impressed laugh. 

“Where did you learn this kink, love?” 

“It's not a kink,” you defend yourself immediately, laughing when he looks at you like he doesn't believe it and then he leans in again, peppering your jaw with slow, open mouth kisses, “I just saw a video the other day and…” 

“And?” He encourages you with a shift of his hips of his own, gaining a curse that slips past your lips. 

“And then I saw you today in this.” The palm of your hand slips from his neck and into the fabric of the sweater, thumb passing over his nipple with purpose. He hisses in response. “So… We could leave it on, hm? What do you think?” 

He raises an eyebrow, trying to bite his smile back “What did they do in the video, love?”

“Oh,” you giggle into his shoulder as he kisses every inch of skin available to him, “it was a homemade video. I don’t watch anything super produced, you know that. They, uhm… Fuck, babe,” he licks his way up the side of your neck, successfully making you melt against him. “She was looking at her phone and he was eating her out,” you manage to get out. “And then she got on her stomach, legs straight a-and closed while he fucked her. Used her, kinda.” He pulls back at that, both intrigued and wanting to see if that’s what you actually want. 

“Used her to get off?” 

You nod and he leans in, nose brushing yours. 

“Is that what you want me to do with you?” 

“After you get me off,” you whisper back, smiling without any shame at your request “yeah.”

Mingi takes his time to think about it. On purpose, letting the tension linger as he presses both palms against the mattress, leaning back just enough so you can catch him checking you out unapologetically. Truth being told, his dick is twitching in his pants at the thought of helping you explore. This has always been your dynamic in bed: exploring, searching, discovering new things that make you wet, researching new ways of making you come and there’s nothing that gets him off more than the idea of you getting away with what you want. 

Even if that means sweating the fabric of this expensive sweater through. It’s okay, he has a washing machine. The way you wait for an answer, with eyes so bright and expectant, makes him bite his lip in return. 

Yeah, there’s nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you. 

He also knows you enjoy this. 

The anticipation. The teasing, the way his hand returns to your legs and slides the material of the sweater up slightly, only to neglect the idea a second after and, instead, turning his hand and letting his knuckles brush against the fabric of it deliberately, with laced intention into the touch even though his expression remains pensive at the proposal. 

A proposal he accepted, like, the second after you said it outloud. 

“Do you know how much I love your tits, love?” 

You let out a sigh as your answer and one look at you is enough to encourage him to keep going. Knuckles brushing upwards, he catches your firm nipple through the fabric. It's a little hard to do; considering you're probably wearing two layers underneath to shield you from the December cold; but he manages and you let out a needy whine. 

“Do you know how much I love you if I’m going to fuck you without taking one look at them?” 

Damn. He doesn’t really mean for his voice to sound so raspy but it does and the way your lips curve in mischief let’s him know that you catch it for what it really means: He’s so lost in it, in the sensual bickering, that he can’t help but show how affected he is, one way or another. 

And then there’s the urgency of getting on with it because you don’t know how much time you get alone, until someone calls your phone and asks for you or until your parents get tired of the wine and come back home. 

So it really does happen in a flash when you grab the collar of his sweater and smash his lips against yours with need, with a newfound spark that excites him. He practically rushes to take your bottoms off, to slide down until they pool at his ankles, to turn on the bed until you’re laying on your back and his mouth is marking your inner thighs, adding new color to the bruises already lingering there. 

You’re twitching under his touch and he has to press your hips down to keep you still when he takes your panties off and dives into your folds. Usually, he would be prepping you to make a mess. You teached him how to make you squirt months ago, the day before you officially got together and he has had the pleasure of making you see stars since then. 

Today, there’s not enough time. 

So he wastes no time in devouring you like he knows you like it. Your leg thrown over his shoulder, the sweater and the shirt underneath rising just enough for him to thrust his hips against the bed at the image of your skin. 

You try to keep it down, he sees you trying to contain yourself and under any other circumstances, he would scold you for depriving him of the sounds you make. But this time around, the view edges him. He wonders briefly what other scenarios he can propose to have you gulping down your moans, to make you gasp for air after pressing the palm of your own hand over your mouth so no more whines slip out of your lips.

He doubles his efforts, just to see you trying to contain yourself and failing to do so, again. It makes you double your efforts as well, probably just to spite him as you thrust your hips and chase your high, but it doesn't bother him. 

If anything, it makes him harder than ever. The way you ride his face, the tongue that flattens out and then curves around your clit and your conviction falters, hips falling still at the way he sucks into your sensitive nub. Your hand in his hair pulls a little and the sting of pain almost makes him come untouched. 

Chuckling into your heat, Mingi catches the exact moment your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels your limbs locking, he tastes your release when your orgasm hits you, he helps you ride out the sensation while pleased moans fill the room. 

And, usually, he would kiss his way up to your lips. He could right now too, over the sweater, the idea of the fuzzy material mixing with your orgasm it's tempting but he remembers you have to see people after this as well. 

He remembers he doesn't have much time. 

And your words are ringing on the back of his head when his mouth latches onto yours again, when you moan after tasting yourself on his tongue. 

He pulls away to silently ask the question: Do you want to keep going? 

You nod, nose nuzzling his briefly before he turns you around. Harshly, like he knows you like it. He sees you grasp the comforter and a pillow between your fingers when he sinks himself into your wet heat, he hears the muffled cry when he adjusts a little and when you close your legs to lie flatly on the bed and in-between his, he all but sees stars at the feeling. 

You're not tight. That's good, that's a sign that you're comfortable with him, trusting of him, a sign that you want you. This position makes it a snug fit, though, and when you purposefully squeeze around him he presses on his hands on your lower back with a groan.

“S-stop stalling, baby, we're running out of ti— Fuck, Mingi!” 

Pulling out and then slamming his hips back down with measured force, he marvels in the feeling of you genuinely squeezing around him, out of pleasure and not to tease him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, forehead connecting with the soft material of the sweater when he leans over you, on your shoulder and smiles when you moan at the way he picks up the pace. 

“Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck,” you mumble in response, head turning and breath fawning on his cheek that you attempt to kiss a second later, so he complies and turns his head to kiss you sweetly, a complete contrast of the way he's thrusting into you.

He falters when he notices just how hard he is going but your hand shoots back, attempts to grab his hip and your head shakes in disapproval. 

“Don't stop,” you ask, breathless, eyes scanning his face to see if he's not into this but he assumes you don't find that because he is into it, “use me, my love. That's what I want.” 

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He leans back up, hands finding a secure spot on your hips and uses you like you asked. He’s hardly the one to seek his own relief so soon. He likes to take his time with you, even when you don’t have much, and that means making you come undone at least twice before he even allows his dick to be touched, but now? 

With how turned on he is? With how full of love he is for you? 

He remembers the time, the years he didn’t allow himself to see you in nothing but platonic light. He remembers the feeling of your lips on his for the first time, he remembers the love you professed to him today and the way you make him feel so wanted, so adored, so—

“Oh— fuck.” 

His pace falters, his orgasm so close he’s unable to keep chasing for it with the same measured force he was using before. 

“Yes, Mingi,” you encourage, somehow managing to move your body upwards, meeting his own, “don’t stop, baby, please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

He vaguely registers himself moaning, babbling nonsense as his movements pick back up. He hears your voice distantly, like he’s underwater, like the way you tell him to come inside of him and that you love him it’s what’s pulling him back up. 

And when he releases inside of you, his ears ring slightly and his forehead meets your back, eyes closed and chest heaving. He feels his heartbeat on his throat, he feels your heartbeat on your back and its rhythm matches his beautifully. 

No one says anything for a few minutes where you both try and recover from the intensity of what you just did. Something new, something that leaves you both exhausted and he can see it on your sleepy and content smile when he pulls out and you turn around, not giving a fuck that you’re bedding is probably going to get sticky with his cum. 

He throws himself besides you and your nose touches his cheek immediately. 

“That was…” 

“So good,” you say and he hugs you close, breath still ragged, “and we should definitely look into sweater fetish or whatever it’s called. I think you enjoyed it more than me.” 

He gasps in feign offense. 

“Stop projecting, love.” 

“Am not—”

“Yes, you are,” he sing-songs back and you weakly hit his arm with your fist. You don’t say anything afterwards and Mingi stops staring at the stars in your ceiling to look at you. 

You’re staring at your ring. He smiles, all the emotions that your words brought to him coming right back. 

“I want to marry you, Y/N.” 

He says it without really thinking it through. He doesn’t regret it even when you look up at him with a little panic behind your eyes. 

“Now?” 

He laughs “Someday,” shrugging, his lips connect with your hairline and you sigh, snuggling up to him a bit more “There’s going to be two more rings that I’m going to give to you and only you.” 

“Good thing you got my ring size right.” 

Your joke makes him laugh and you lean up against his chest a bit to look at him. 

“I’m going to say yes, Mingi,” you whisper and he melts against the pillow, his hand on your cheek a second later. He sees your eyes go down to the ring on his necklace and the smile that brings to your lips makes his heart pick up again.  “And then I’m going to show off my ring to everyone and I’m going to be insufferable as a wife. I hope you’re ready.” 

You fall back down on his chest, cheek just above the beating of his heart and eyes closed. The smile lingers on your lips and, as he brushes your hair back with his hand and smooths his hand under your sweater, he can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t want it any other way, love.” 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH and happy holidays! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[loves-77]

You Are My Honey

*TW* Yandere, obsessive tones, mates, Bear hybrid, NOT PROOFREAD (Tell me if you notice anymore)

THIS IS MY FIRST STORY I HAVE EVER WRITTEN SO IGNORE ANY MISTAKES, I AM STILL TRYING TO FIND MY PERFERED WRITING STYLE!

TELL ME IF YOU WANT A SMUT PART 2!!

*One part of my story is inspired by a scene in another story I read, don't remember the author*

*Not My Picture*

What had the world become? You sit alone on your couch in a small little apartment you could barely afford, for what? To get up in the morning go to your job at the floral shop and make a couple bucks a day?? All alone because you don't have time to invest in a romance that would probably end after a month, because who would want to be with a 'workaholic' who only has time to stay at their job. All your friends got some husband or boyfriend or...... mate.

The subject of 'mates' confused you, hybrids are just now being accepted into society and now are 'mating' on people. With how many hybrids are finding their mates the government is passing a law allowing them to be with said mates. The thought scared you, maybe because you didn't know enough about it. Imagine going about your normal day and some random person, with ears or a tail, starts talking about how you are destined to be together. Scary, or romantic??

Finally getting out of your daydreaming you look at the clock and realize you are gonna be late for work if you don't leave this second. Running out the door, almost forgetting your bag, you rush downstairs and run down the street. You lived pretty close to the floral shop so it was easy for you to get there fast. Barley making it on time your boss gives you a long list of orders you have to prepare. Your day has officially started..

*Time skip*

After work you make it back to the apartment, dropping your keys in your tray and making a bee line to the couch. Your phone rings and you realize your best friend was asking if you were free. Once you text them you are you start getting ready. They didn't give you a lot of details but told you to dress casual.

They text you to meet them outside your apartment in 30 min and they were gonna pick you up. Getting ready you finally make it down the stairs and wait outside for her. Seeing her car pull up and her getting out you both greet each other. "You are gonna love it" she said, "I got invited to some party on the nice side of town, supposedly there is going to be a lot of nice, respectable men there!!!" Winking at you she started the car and started driving. "You know I am not looking for anyone right now, no one is gonna wanna be with me when I can barely go out. I mean I got lucky today and my boss let me off early!" "You might find someone who doesn't mind.... Or someone who makes some money, so you don't have to work as much." Both of you start laughing.

Finally making it to the house you guys pull into the drive way and a bunch of people walking around, inside and outside. "Is the house made of just glass" you question. "I guess it is the new thing with rich people, let everyone see your business" You both get out of the car, after parking it, and walk toward the entrance. Suddenly the both of you tense, realizing there weren't just humans at this party. Now you both don't have a problem with hybrids going into public places or having the same rights you have, but never being near one before and seeing their sharp teeth or ears freaked you both out.

You were the first one to relax a little, realizing they were just there to have fun, like everyone else. "I didn't know they were gonna be here sorry" your friend apologized. "It's OK, they are here just like us, no problems." You both walk in together and browse around to see who and what exactly was here.

A loud booming voice can be heard across the room. Everyone's heads turn towards the owner of the voice. You freeze in fear, or maybe just shock, you aren't quite sure. But you know for sure that the owner of that voice is not someone you want to cross paths with ever again.

He was ginormous with arms that could pick you up and throw you a mile away.... maybe even more than that. His shaggy honey brown hair draped around his face almost majestically. He smiled and you noticed his canines are pointier that anyone you have ever seen before.... wait, wait, wait. You could hit yourself for not noticing the round brown ears on the top of his head. That is why he is so much bigger than everyone in the room.... he is a grizzly bear hybrid.

You look to your friend in panic and notice she had the same look on her face. Grizzly bear hybrids are rare and tend to be more aggressive than other predator hybrids. You have never seen one before in person, you considered yourself lucky until now.

Finally zoning back in from your panic you realize that some non-hybrids share the same look as you and your friend do. Looking back over to the owner of the voice you catch his stare. Freezing up once again you can't look away from those... black eyes? or maybe they are a dark brown, you can't tell from the distance. Snapping out of your shock you realize he stops to... sniff.... no he can't be sniffing the air... can he?

Then realization hits you when he starts heading your way. You heard that hybrids could smell who their mate is, but it couldn't be. You can't possibly be his mate. Panic sets in again and you couldn't tell if you were overreacting, it couldn't be you he was heading towards. But still, you grab your friend's arm and bolt away before he could get close enough to start a conversation.

"What- Where are we going??" Your friend asks "We need to leave right no-" "WAIT, YOU IN THE (F/C) SHIRT!!" You could have sworn the ground shook with how loud his voice was. You don't freeze, now that you know for sure he was looking for you. "Is that-" You cut your friend off "We need to leave." She doesn't hesitate to grab her car keys from her pocket and catch up with your fast steps.

Looking behind you see the hybrid trying to make his way through the crowd. "WAIT, WAIT!!" He sounded so desperate, you almost felt bad if you still didn't feel the pit in your stomach. Looking ahead of you again, you both make it to the front door, storming out of the house and to the car. While your friend was starting it you both hear the front door slam open, turning your head to the side you see the hybrid rushing out. Your friend gets the car started and hits the gas to go forward. Looking back, you see him chasing the car with.... were those tears in his eyes? No, it couldn't be, he didn't even know you. Finally relaxing in your chair, you lay back and look at your friend and say, "I don't think I am going to go to a party with you for a while." Making eye contact you both start giggling. "I understand completely" she says in between her giggling.

*Time Skip*

You wake up with a raging headache, barley remembering what happened yesterday you groan and sit up. Then you pause as you remember who you saw and ran away from yesterday. A chill goes down your spine and you remember his smile with those pointed teeth. But you snap yourself out of it and say, "He didn't do anything wrong; I shouldn't be scared for no reason." But you can't shake the feeling of fear you felt when you saw him.

Getting out of bed you get ready for work, which you are supposed to be there in an hour. Changing into a cute shirt and jeans you make yourself your (Favorite breakfast). Once you finish your food, you grab your keys and head for the door. Getting in your car you start heading over to the floral shop. Entering the store was a whole dream, all the beautiful flowers and the addicting smells you can't help but smile. Making it to the back your boss greets you and gives you the orders to start the day.

A couple hours later you hear the door open and close, looking up to greet the customer you freeze. "Welc-...." Standing before you was the (at least 6'3) huge hybrid from yesterday. "I have been looking all over for you! Since you left so abruptly yesterday, I tracked down your scent and found you here! I was going to go to your apartment, but I thought that might have been too far." The smile on his face not disappearing, even after you didn't respond and just stared at him.

"You found me by my..... scent??" The sheer surprise you had confused him, his eyebrows furrowing. "Well of course honey, how else would I find you?" ..... Honey?!?!? Why is he calling you that?? Shaking the shock off you respond "Excuse me? I don't know you sir and I don't appreciate being called honey." If it could even be possible his eyebrows furrowed even more, before it looked like he realized something. "Oh dear! I forgot to introduce myself!! My names is Caleb, and I realize this might seem weird for you but... how do I word this.... well you are my mate!" The smile on his face grew 10 times when he said 'mate'

Chills rushed down your spine, and not the good kind. "Did you just say mates? No that can't be, I am sorry, but you have the wrong person." You almost felt bad as his face dropped, but you reminded yourself he basically stalked you to work! "But -" You cut him off, "I am really sorry and I wish you the best of luck finding who you are looking for." Tears started welling in his eyes.

"(Y/N)!" Turning around you see your boss, "Yes, sir?" "Come here right now!" Looking back at Caleb you quickly turn and rush to the backroom. "Wha-" You were cut off, "You need to leave, and take the b-bear with you!" "What si-" "LEAVE! You are gonna make business go down, so take him with you!" "Bu-" You were being shoved out of the room towards a very hopeful looking bear.

"You kids have fun!" Turning around the store door was closed in your face. Turning around to look at Caleb, you turn and start walking towards your car, keeping silent. "Wait!" Your arm was yanked backwards. "LET GO!" "No." He growled with a snarl on his face. "You are going to come with me so we can talk. Don't argue because you aren't going anywhere." Shutting your mouth, you start to walk with him, not wanting to be on his bad side. But you can't stop the small tingle you feel in the spot he touched.

He led you to a black car, opened the door, and gently pushed you inside. Once he got in, he started the car and got on the road. "Where are we going?" you managed to get out in a calm voice. Smiling over at you he replied, "Home of course." You had the feeling that it wasn't your house he was talking about.

*Time Skip*

It seemed like you had been in his car for hours, but it was just 30 minutes. Glancing over at him he seemed very content with a light smile on his face. You realize this might be because he finally has what he has waited his whole life for, his mate. Thinking back, you feel bad you just ran away from him and didn't even give him a chance to talk. Looking at his face you think he is very handsome, and you are surprised you didn't notice before. His jawline sharp, light freckles dusting his face, his shapely nose, and he had longer lashes then you did. "I hope you are pleased with how I look." His deep voice scared you out of your daze. Quickly looking away from you stare at the road ahead of you. Out of the corner of your eye you see him look towards you and say "You are so beautiful. So much better than what I imagined my mate to look like." You felt your cheeks heat up as you take a quick glance at him, luckily, he was looking back at the road.

Now going through an internal debate, you realize you don't feel scared anymore. It was almost like your body was relaxing after being with him and not fighting it. Trying to fight off the feelings you can't help but look over at him and say "Why am I feeling like this?" He glanced at you before turning his eyes back on the road. Looking concerned he said "Feeling like what? Are you feeling ill?" Sighing you say "No I don't feel sick but why do I feel comfortable with you? You basically just kidnapped me." You see a small smile making its way on his face, "It is because we are mates, you don't feel it as intensely as I do, since I have better senses than a normal human. But we were destined to be together it's only natural your body is reacting to my pheromones while your brain might be denying it." He suddenly reached a hand over and grabbed your hand. Tingles exploded everywhere just from that touch. You didn't move your hand away, even though you probably should have. Staring at your intertwined hands you couldn't help it, it just felt.... right.

Not even paying attention to the time anymore it takes you a quick second to realize the car stopped. Looking up you make eye contact with Caled. The smile on his face was so sweet you practically felt yourself melting, those dang pheromones. He turned and got out of the car, gently dropping your hand. You can't help but want to hold his hand again, even after everything. He opened the door for you, gently taking your hand again as you got out. As he went to pull his hand back you held on, refusing to let you go. You could see a big smile formed on his face as he looked at your hands.

Looking up you realize how far you must be from the city; you look at the beautiful cabin house, the log details, and the wrap around porch. The forest surrounding you was just as beautiful. Looking to the side of the house there is a small gravel pathway leading into the forest.

"Welcome to my home, well I guess it's ours now."

Looking at him, the sentence and you lightly pull your hand away from his. There is no way you are going to move in with him after just meeting him.... mates or not. A big frown formed on his face when you pulled away and hurt flashed in his eyes.

"I am not moving in with you. We just met! I don't appreciate being pushed into things. I know nothing about you, and you don't know anything about me."

Stepping back from him just a little. You see a change in his eyes, anger, or frustration? You are not completely sure.

Completely ignoring what you said before he continues on.

"My grandparents built this cabin when hybrids were still outcasts. Then it passed to my parents and now me. My parents built their own house further into the forest and decided I could have this house for my mate when I found her. No one knows about it."

Something flashed in his eyes when he said the last sentence. A chill ran down your spine and not a good one. You didn't like the implication of that at all. Your instincts were screaming to run and you couldn't fight your instincts. Not even giving your brain a chance to think, you bolted.

Running straight into the forest you curse yourself for not wearing running shoes to work today. You heard Caleb behind you shouting something, he sounded desperate and wounded. He sounded far enough away you know you surprised him by running. But you knew he would catch up to you eventually and you could hit yourself for not thinking about it before just bolting. There was a pain that you felt in your chest, but your adrenaline stopped the pain. You jumped over rocks and logs not wanting to slow down or trip. You could hear behind you Caleb was gaining on you and fast. Your legs burning you suddenly change routes. You hear a loud curse behind you and knew you shook him off your tail for just a second. That small victory didn't last long as the back of your shirt was yanked. Your back hitting a soft but solid chest.

You were absolutely winded while it seemed like he didn't even break a sweat. Looking at his face you shrink into yourself seeing a furious look. He had a snarl on his face and his eyebrows were furrowed together. You can't help but whimper slightly and you see sadness flash in his eyes just for a second before going back to anger.

"Where do you think you are going." He growled and you couldn't help but flinch at his tone.

"I was being nice and showing you my home, the one you are going to live in with me. I was going be nice and give you a week to stay at your house before moving in but after that stunt you pulled aren't ever going back."

"I'm sorry!" you practically cry out, shaking with fear. Turning around and grappling onto him, crying into his chest.

You couldn't explain it but the moment you ran it felt like your heart got torn out. But now, next to Caleb, the pain stopped.

"Why do I feel like this?!?!" Tears streaming down your face.

"Why do I want to be next to you so bad? Why did it hurt when I ran away!?"

You feel his muscular arms wrap around you and start rubbing your back. He started cooing and telling you it was ok, and he would explain later. His anger completely dissolving as he realized you felt the same pain he felt when you ran. Like someone just stabbed his heart out. Feeling yourself get picked up, you wrap your legs around his waist, stuffing your face in his neck, and wrapping your arms around the back of his head. You felt yourself calm almost instantly after putting your head in his neck. But the tears didn't stop even if you felt better.

"Let's get you back home, then we can clean up and eat something." He spoke so softly you almost wouldn't believe the anger he held in his voice not even 10 minutes ago.

Relaxing into his body you think to yourself, maybe it wouldn't be to bad if you just stayed with him.

[copper-16]

Elena and Alexia Day!

Elena and Alexia’s tradition of spending a day together to celebrate the little girl’s birthday!

(a/n: give me allll the cute, fluffy moments rn, this was so much fun to write. Forgot how much I loved writing kid fics 🫠)

Mapi knew as soon as the door opened that nothing good was going to be happening that day. 

Alexia’s smile was simply too wide, and the midfielder was practically bouncing with an uncharacteristic amount of excitement, looking past her friend and into the apartment, her eyes eager. 

“Where's my child?” She asked hurriedly, practically breathing down Mapi’s throat in an attempt to get into the apartment. The center-back rolled her eyes, but she was fighting a smile at the same time. 

“Last I checked, she was my daughter,” the brunette pointed out, but she stepped aside just as Ingrid rounded the corner carrying Elena, and the blonde pushed past her, making a beeline for the baby. 

“Pequeña! How is the best little girl,” Alexia cooed softly, her heart bursting as the young girl immediately reached for her, being quickly transferred into her godmother's arms. 

“Tía!” Elena squealed, wrapping her arms around the Barcelona captain and pressing her cheek into the blonde’s shoulder. 

Even if Mapi pretended to be annoyed, she couldn’t ever bring herself to really mind it that much. She loved how much her daughter adored her godmother, and she loved that Alexia found just as much joy in interacting with her. 

“What are you doing here?” Elena asked, looking around at all the adults. The midfielder reached down with one hand to tickle her stomach slightly, sending her into a fit of giggles as Elena shoved her hand away playfully. 

“What am I doing here? It is Tía and Elena’s day, no?” Alexia asked secretly, whispering rather loudly as Mapi and Ingrid fought to contain their laughter. 

“Because it is my birthday soon, right?” The green-eyed girl’s face lit up in realization of what day it was, her excitement ballooning at the prospect of spending the day with Alexia. 

Every year before her birthday, Alexia came over and stole Elena for the day, and they did whatever the little girl asked. Last year they had gone to the zoo, where the Barcelona captain had carried the little girl around the whole zoo, much to the Spanish girl’s delight. Her Mami and Mama always made her walk more, but Alexia never complained about the opportunity to carry the dark-haired girl around, instead laughing that it was her arms workout for the day. 

“Si, si! What do you want to do today? We can do anything you want!” The older woman asked, her smile only growing when Elena’s forehead creased, the little girl clearly lost in thought. 

“Can we go to the park together?” She asked, her face hopeful. Alexia nodded instantly, looking back at Ingrid and Mapi, who both nodded. She set Elena down, helping her with her shoes and taking the offered bag with the little girl’s things before she began to fetter them out of the apartment. 

“Come on, let’s go!” Alexia exclaimed, her excitement getting the better of her as she swept the little girl out of the apartment, leaving Mapi to scramble after her. 

“You need the car seat!” She hollered after them, causing the Catalan to circle back on a dime, her eagerness unable to be dimmed. 

“Let’s go…right after we get the car seat!” She repeated with equal enthusiasm, causing Elena to laugh as raced after the Barcelona captain, her giggled echoing in the hallway infectiously. 

—

The park was surprisingly busy as they arrived, much to Alexia’s surprise. She had expected it to be much more desolate than it was, but she remained unfettered by the number of people there, unbuckling Elena from her car seat and walking her into the park.  

The little girl loved going to the park with her Tías, especially because they were all wildly overeager to spend time with her, always going on the slides and pushing her on the swings without any prompting, unlike her mothers. 

The green-eyed girl was clearly elated, pulling Alexia straight for the slide, waiting patiently for their turn as Elena talked the Catalan’s ear off for five straight minutes about everything and nothing at all. But it didn’t matter to the midfielder, who listened as intently as she did during a halftime speech where the team was two goals down. 

“Your turn Tía!” She exclaimed from her spot at the bottom of the slide, clapping her hands together as Alexia awkwardly scooted down the slide, not having the same smooth ride that the little kids did. 

But she was entirely undeterred, especially when she stood and Elena came running over, crashing into her legs with a hug and then jumping up and down. 

“You did it!” She rejoiced, holding her hand up to high-five Alexia, something that the midfielder responded with instantly. 

“So did you! Look at us go!” Alexia exclaimed, pulling the sunglasses off her nose to sit on the top of her head as she bent down to give Elena a big hug. 

The little girl could see from behind her the way that some of the people at the park were beginning to point and stare in their direction, but she didn’t think much of it, too engrossed in spending time with her godmother to really care. 

“Can we go on the swings next?” The dark-haired girl asked, and the captain nodded eagerly, taking Elena’s hand to lead her over there. 

“Alright, up we go!” She exclaimed as she picked the green-eyed girl up and popped her onto the swings, turning back to head toward the other side so that she could push Elena. 

It was at that point that a little boy and his mother approached, nervous smiles on their respective faces. The mother pushed the boy gently toward the football, and he wrung his hands together anxiously before speaking. 

“Uhm…could I maybe get a picture?” He asked, and the captain glanced back at Elena, who was looking at them curiously, her brow furrowed together, before she turned back to the little boy. 

“Yes, of course. But just me please,” she asked apologetically, hoping that they could snap the picture quickly and allow her to fully focus back on her goddaughter. 

It only took a few seconds, and her attention was back on the little girl instantly, smiling at her widely as she began to push her once more. 

“Higher Tía, higher!” She cheered, smiling as well when Alexia laughed easily, pushing her as high as she was willing, not wanting her to get injured. 

She only slows the swing when she feels another tap on her shoulder, and she tries to hide her annoyance when she finds that it’s another person, asking for a picture. Regrettably, she stopped the swings for a moment, telling Elena to stay put for another moment as she took the picture, hoping that this would be the last one of the day. 

The sunglasses went back on, but even then people still approached her, even when she refused a photograph with them, trying to remain focused on her goddaughter. 

And every time they were stopped or interrupted, the little girl’s smile seemed to dim just slightly, as first confusion and then a slight sadness settled over her. 

It wasn’t that she wasn’t ever stopped when her mothers were asked for pictures, but it wasn’t usually like this. 

Mapi and Ingrid weren’t stopped for pictures all that often, and when they were, they usually took individual pictures while the other kept their daughter entertained, to the point where it never bothered her.

With it being just her and Alexia though, every single time they were stopped Elena had to step back, when all she wanted to do was spend time with her godmother. It seemed that every person they passed wanted a piece of the midfielder, pulling her away from the green-eyed girl even as she tried to remain focused on her goddaughter. 

Elena didn’t know Alexia as the two-time Ballon d’Or winner, one of the greatest players of their generation. 

All she knew was the woman who loved spending time with her, the woman who showered her in love and kisses and carried her whenever she asked. She had known Alexia for her entire life and didn’t understand the Catalan woman’s popularity, especially given her age. 

After Alexia had rejected a sixth picture, she turned back to the dark-haired girl, trying to recover a smile on her face. 

“Do you want to go play over there?” Alexia asked hopefully, but Elena just shook her head, looking down at the ground insistently. 

“Can we go?” The little girl asked instead, and the midfielder’s heart dropped into her stomach as she nodded tersely, taking Elena’s hand and leading her out of the park, racking her brain on what to do. 

They made a quick pit stop at the car to grab a hat for Alexia before they began to walk toward more shops, something the green-eyed girl agreed to with a nod, still not really speaking. 

The captain’s heart sank once more, and she swallowed nervously. Elena wasn’t usually this reserved, and eventually she couldn’t take it, looking around to make sure there was nobody around before she sat down on the sidewalk, pulling the little girl toward her gently. 

“What’s wrong pequeña? I can tell something is bothering you,” Alexia said gently, her face contorted in worry. 

Elena shrugged for a moment before she pushed her hair back roughly, quiet for a moment. When she looks up at Alexia for a second, there is a wash of insecurity painted across her features, one that makes the midfielder’s heart squeeze uncomfortably. She never wanted the young girl to feel uncomfortable or worried around her.  

“You’re…you’re still here to spend time with me, right?” She asked in an unsure voice after a moment, stepping toward Alexia slightly, reaching forward to fist the material of the Catalan’s shorts in one of her hands. 

“Of course I am! It is our special day just the two of us, no?” The blonde replied softly, placing her hands over the little girls. 

“It feels like everyone wants to spend time with you,” Elena countered gently, and the Barcelona player kicked herself, just slightly. She hated this part of fame, the part that came between any of her relationships, the part that made anyone around her feel bad. 

It was especially hard to see the dark-haired girl so upset, even though she was trying to hide it. 

Alexia let out a slow sigh, trying to gather her thoughts. She should have started with a better disguise, and she should have never said yes to the first picture she took. The balance of fame was a tricky one, and she hated that she didn’t do better today. 

“I’m sorry everyone kept coming up and interrupting us when we were at the park,” she started, trying to explain this as best as she could to an almost four year old. “I think people get really excited to see me sometimes, and they want to come over to say hello and ask to take a picture with me. Just like they do with your Mami and Mama sometimes, right?” She inquired, and Elena finally lifted her head to look at the Catalan woman, nodding as she blinked rapidly. 

“I wish I could tell them all to go away, but sometimes they still come up and interrupt, and I’m sorry that I can’t stop them. But I promise you Elena, I am only here for you, and you are the only one I care about right now. It is our special day, and we can do whatever you want,” she promised, trying to keep her voice less desperate than she felt. She really didn’t want to let this come between the two of them, and she hated seeing her goddaughter upset. 

But luckily the little girl seemed to appreciate her words, her worries mollified as her godmother explained. 

“Could we maybe get ice cream, please?” She asked hopefully, her green eyes looking at Alexia with renewed and yet still reserved excitement, and the blonde wanted to sob in relief as she nodded, moving to get up and take them before the young girl stopped her. The dark-haired girl gestured to her to come closer, pulling the midfielder in closely to whisper in her ear. 

“Maybe we could…we could take a picture together too?” She suggested in a small, shy voice, and the blonde’s smile widened considerably, nodding zealously as the little girl’s enthusiasm seemed to return in full force. 

“Come on, we can send it to your Mami and Mama,” the midfielder decided, pulling Elena into her lap and removing her sunglasses before she began to snap selfies of them. At first, it was just the two smiling, before Alexia leaned forward to kiss the little girl’s cheek, sending her into a fit of giggles. 

They pulled funny faces at the camera before Alexia allowed Elena to take her phone and take photos of her sitting on the sidewalk, before they swapped and the Barcelona player took photos of her goddaughter, both of them giggling as they did so. 

Ingrid and Mapi received an onslaught of photos as Alexia replaced her hat and sunglasses back on her head, standing to lead Elena toward the ice cream store. 

She bought both of them a scoop of ice cream, choosing chocolate for herself while Elena asked for some heinously sweet concoction. 

“Do you want to try?” The dark-haired girl asked politely, holding out her cup of ice cream to Alexia with a smile on her face. 

“Yes! Thank you so much for sharing,” the blonde replied, wanting to encourage the little girl to share, while trying not to skeptically eye the bright blue ice cream now sitting in front of her. 

She offered the green-eyed girl a bite of her chocolate ice cream, before she finally lifted the spoon to her mouth, taking the tiniest of bites and trying not to shudder at how intensely sweet it was. 

“Delicious!” She said instead, reaching for her water instantly to rid her mouth from the aching saccharine feeling of the ice cream. It was worth it when Elena smiled brightly, taking her cup back and continuing to eat, chattering away. 

And even as they ate, they were interrupted just a few more times, with each time Alexia politely declining, before she turned back to Elena swiftly. She was worried that the little girl would be downtrodden with the interruptions, but rather she seemed to flourish under the captain’s attention, and it didn’t bother her as much now that the midfielder was declining the people who came up to her. 

“You know what I think we need to do now?” The blonde asked, her voice low and secretive as she wiped the remnants of ice cream off the dark-haired girl’s cheeks. 

“What?” Elena questioned, her eyebrows furrowed together adorably, truly having no idea what the blonde would suggest. 

“I think it’s time to go shopping! It is almost your birthday, after all,” Alexia announced, never mind the four wrapped gift boxes she already had sitting in her apartment. 

“Yay!” Elena cheered, the sugar rush beginning to hit her as she hopped around the midfielder with excitement. 

“Come on, let's go pequeña!” Alexia declared, taking the overeager girl’s hand in her own and leading them out of the shops. 

It was only once she had tired the little girl out, going from shop to shop and looking through all the different things that she could buy, that she finally took her back to the car, ready to go home. 

She placed the bags into the boot of the car before she swung Elena up into her arms, hugging her tightly and relishing in the way that the green-eyed girl hugged her back easily, her whole body sagging into the midfielder. 

“I love you so much Tía,” she mumbled sleepily, and it only made Alexia hold her tightly, and wish suddenly that she would never get big. She wished deeply that she could stay this small forever, that she would always be able to carry Elena to the car, or take her to the park, or get sickly sweet ice cream together. 

But it also meant that she got to enjoy living in the present, making sure to appreciate all the little moments like these, to make sure to treasure these memories. She places one of her hands on the back of Elena’s head as she presses a kiss to the side of her head. 

“I love you more, little one,” she replied easily, rocking her back and forth for a moment before she got her situated in her car seat, getting them ready to go home. 

—

When Ingrid opened the door, she frowned, looking at the scene in front of her. 

Because all that seemed to be in her doorway was her captain, smiling at her widely (and rather guiltily), holding so many bags she was giving Carrie Bradshaw a run for her money. 

What was lacking in the doorway, however, was any trace of her daughter, the daughter that Alexia was supposed to be bringing home right now. 

“Did you lose Elena?” The Norwegian asked skeptically, her eyebrow raised suspiciously. 

“I’m right here Mama!” Elena announced, jumping up from behind one of the bags, her head popping up over the multitude of bags in Alexia’s arms. 

Ingrid fought the urge to burst out laughing, shaking her head as she turned back into the apartment. 

“María? Can you come here please?” She called out, waiting just a few seconds before her wife appeared in the hallway, walking toward them. 

“What is it…Alexia?! Where is my daughter?” She exclaimed, coming to stand next to Ingrid, looking equally perplexed. 

“I’m here Mami!” Elena reached a hand up to push one of the bags down, smiling brightly at her mother’s, looking up at Alexia with a huge grin. 

“How did you…how much could you have spent…I…really?” Mapi asked as her hand came up to rub at her forehead, unable to really formulate a response. 

Alexia opened her mouth, but appeared unable to come up with an appropriate answer for Mapi’s line of questions. 

Ingrid, on her account, fought an amused smile as she reached around the bags to lift Elena up, poking her daughter in the cheek and smiling. 

“Did you have so much fun?” She asked, her face brightening when the little girl nodded insistently, immediately beginning to tell her all about their day as she gestured with one of her hands, causing all of the adults to chuckle. 

“How about we go get you ready for dinner?” Ingrid interrupted softly, redirecting Elena away from her long-winded story, and the green-eyed girl nodded before turning back to Alexia and Mapi. 

“Thank you so much Tía! I love you, and I love Tía and Elena day,” she proclaimed, pressing her hand to her mouth and blowing Alexia a kiss before Ingrid looked over at the two Spaniards, stifling a laugh. 

“I will leave you two to deal with…this,” she decided, gesturing to the pile of bags that now littered their entryway. She turned swiftly, leaving the two Spanish women alone, as Alexia looked over at Mapi with an apologetic smile. 

The brunette looked unimpressed, staring down at all the bags before she looked back up at her best friend, disbelief etched into her face. 

“Really Alexia?” 

“I couldn’t help it!”

[itscherrylipsforme]

When were you planning to tell us?: Theseus Scamander x fem!reader

Summary: During their wedding your recently married friends can't stop asking questions about your "mysterious" husband. Little they know he is the same man who has been flirting with you during all the ceremony

Warnings: Drinking a little, I guess? But nothing else except that Jacob and Queenie being unaware of the world around them; Leta and Theseus ot being able to hide their chuckles; and Dumbledore being a funny smartass. Takes place after Dumbledore's secrets and in Au where Leta doesn't die and she wasn't enganged with Thesesus

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1130

Author rambles: This is kind of inspired in a wedding I attended a couple of years ago and the situation fitted quite well with the request

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Bright smiles, sparky eyes and some tears of pure happiness, that was a quick and accurate way to describe most weddings. Jacob’s and Queenie’s was not an exception to this. A small and intimate ceremony on the bakery, only family and friends attending, perfect for the couple union. While the bride and the groom, now wife and husband, were looking at each other with love-dove eyes, you and the rest of the guests were enjoying the sight.

“She looks beautiful today, even more that normally” You whispered to Theseus who was by your side leaning in the desserts table.

“I still believe you were prettier in your wedding” He replied a small grin playing on his lips.

“You are a charmer with words, Theseus Scamander” Your hands slowly moved to take two glasses of champagne, handing one of them to your companion.

“Only because you deserve it, darling” He took a quick sip of the pinkish beverage, which had been Queenie’s idea.

You would have scolded him for his smarmy antics if it wasn’t for your nosy friends who had been half-listening to your talk. Yeah, a small bakery was definitely not the best place to hold a private conversation. It wasn’t long until Mr and Mrs Kowalski came to your way with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“y/n you never told us you had been married, honey” Queenie sweet voice echoed in your ears. The realization hit you, you had been caught.

“Actually, I still am” Thesus couldn’t help but chuckle at your words.

“And who is the lucky man?” Jacob managed to speak while taking a bite from the nuptial cake “Do we know him?”

Theseus cheeks were starting to tint in a similar tone to his hair. You wondered how an auror like him, who has supposed to be calm and stern in every situation, couldn’t stop that grin from spreading on his face right now. Luckily for the two of you, Leta Lestrange, your best friend since your Hogwarts years (your guardian angel as you should call her from now on), appeared on the scene.

“What is the fuss for?” she joined the group and thanks to her endearing smile and her ability to put the focus on herself in every situation, you could enjoy a few seconds to think what would you say next. You were so relived thanks to her entry that you didn’t even get annoyed when she playfully stole your glass of champagne.

“y/n has just told us that she is married” The bride explained enthusiastically.

“Ohh…” Great, the last thing you needed right now was another person who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. Surprisingly, she decided to play along. After all a little fun never hurt anyone “Of course she is, I was the bridesmaid”

“Leta…” You tried to interrupt her in order to finally reveal the truth.

“Wonderful!” Queenie clapped “So you can tell us more about that mysterious husband of hers”

“Yeah y/n, you never told us anything about him” Theseus took a sip of his drink and still he couldn’t hide his smirk.

Oh, he made a big mistake… Never play games with a girl who can play them better, Scamander. You should remind him that later.

“Well, he is the perfect gentleman. Sweet, chivalrous, caring…” You dreamingly looked at the celling “But also a little bossy, stubborn, touchy too. And he always overworks himself with his job to the point its annoying” Your audience was expectant to hear more about it. Theseus tried his best not to look slightly offended while Leta patted his back.

“But you love him, don’t you?” The older Scamander brother asked, his eyes shinning hopefully. One of the many things that made you fall for him since the first day.

“With every piece of my heart” Your gaze was locked in his.

That intimate moment which had somehow grown in a room full of people faded a wide the instance the door’s bell rang, announcing Tina’s and Newt’s arrival in the bakery. God knew what they had been talking about while the rest of you were enjoying the desserts.

“Guys, you will never guess what happened” Jacob said as soon as they came to his sight.

“Y/n is married!” Queenie announced as the sweet gossiper she was.

The young magizoologist’s eyes travelled back and forwards from yours and his brother’s face, clearly confused. The elder Goldstein sister just looked unaware, waiting for an explanation.

“Of course, she is” Newt finally broke the silence “I was the best man”

“You too?” Jacob said surprised “Are we the last ones to discover this?”

“I didn’t know until today either, Mr Kowalski. Although I have been having my suspicions since you two were students. You have never been good at hiding your feelings, Miss l/n”

Dumbledore laughed from the other side of the room where he was leaning on the wall absent-mindedly eating his piece of cake. A privileged position which he took advantage of to listen to the whole discussion.

“Or should I say Mrs Scamander now? Congrats anyway, thanks to your marriage Professor McGonagall owes me ten galleons now” Gasps of shock echoed between the bakery’s walls.

Your husband made himself comfortable, his hands now proudly around your waist in a gentle grip.

“Thanks Professor” he replied.

“When did you make it official if I can ask?”

“Just after he returned from the war. We wanted to keep it simple, Newt and Leta were the only guests” You softly squeezed your husbands hand.

“And when were you planning to tell us?”

“Jacob, sweetie, focus on what is important” His wife corrected him “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You two shrugged the question off. Being honest, you had never truly hidden your union, not intentionally at least. Theseus did not wear his ring on his finger, but in a necklace around his neck. Too afraid that he would lose it in a mission due to his work as an auror; so you decided to do the same. He didn’t keep the gesture of love low-key either. Always calling you pet names or protectively staying by your side. But it was true he did the same for Leta and his brother, and that kisses were always reserved for closed doors for unknown reasons. With those reasons, it was understandable that your friends hadn’t realized sooner you were in fact married. They just took you for an old friend duo. How wrong they were, but as no correction had been said before by either of you they were still ignorant of the fact.

As they say: “Actions speak louder than words” and that was exactly what your husband did. Arms tangled around your hip and lips that were leaning for a kiss which ended up in a resounding applause. In the next years you would receive endless teasing for it, but enjoying the moment you couldn’t care any less about it.

[nathaslosthershit]

Birthday Celebrations (Teen Dad!OP81)

(Part 5 of my Teen Dad AU [can be read in any order])

Summary: The Piastri twins, with the help of their mom, try to make their Dad’s 23rd birthday as special as it can be. Warnings: I am currently pregaming a pregame so I am not writing this while sober. Also I decided to make this super fluffy because it only makes Tensions Rise so much sadder.  A/N: Name reveal for the twins! Also this takes place before Tensions Rise, which originally took place at the Silverstone GP but I have changed it to Suzuka :)

6 am on April 6th, Honey woke up to her alarm. It was earlier than she would usually wake up. On most days, her 3 year olds woke her up at around 7:30, but today she decided to make sure she was waking up ahead of them, in order to intercept any attempts to wake up Oscar on his 23rd birthday. 

She had finished decorating the kitchen when she heard tiny footsteps approaching. Two bleary-eyed toddlers entered the kitchen and looked around, eyes opening wide with a sort of wonder only young children seem to have, as they saw all the balloons and streamers around the room.

“Hi babies, are you excited for today?” Honey asked as she hugged each of her kids. Seeing the confusion appear on their faces, she added, “It's your dad’s birthday! And I think it's about time to wake him up. Are you both ready?”

She was met with enthusiastic nods and once promising that they would get the cake they so desired, she held both their hands as she quietly opened her bedroom door, letting the twins loose to wake their dad up. 

Oscar had been blissfully asleep when he felt weight on him, suddenly throwing him out of sleep. Immediately concerned, he sat up with an impressive amount of swiftness before he realized it was his children sitting on top of him.

“Happy birthday Daddy!” They both screamed at the same time, immediately shoving the cards they had made him a few days prior in his face. They couldn’t write properly yet, so Honey transcribed what the scribbles meant in her much nicer handwriting below. 

“Aw, thank you both. What a frightening but sweet way to wake up.” He said as he gave them both a kiss on the head. He then turned to Honey, who had let the toddlers get their moment with him. Kissing him passionately, the adults only stopped once they heard the ‘ew’s from their two kids. 

“Happy birthday, darling.” She said as she handed him a jewelry box.

“I thought we said no gifts for holidays? That the money should go towards the kids?” Oscar asked as he held the box.

“That was when we were teens and you weren’t making F1 money.” She sassily replied.

Opening the box, he was confused when he saw two gold bands inside, a perfect fit for his and Honey’s ring fingers.

“Look at the engravings.” She quickly added. There, the names Frances and Hudson were engraved, the names belonging to the two kids sitting next to them on the bed. “I thought I would buy the bands ahead of time. I know we aren’t getting married for a bit but I really wanted to add their names to the inside and knew you aren’t big on getting gifts. Think of it as our first step towards our wedding” She rambled. She got nervous the longer he stared at the gift, was it too soon? Did he hate it?

“Honey, this is the sweetest thing ever.” He said as he began to tear up. They hadn’t started wedding planning, with how busy things had been, it seemed impossible to find the time. This was the first real step towards their forever. As he looked at them, it finally settled in how much he needed to marry her as soon as he could. 

“God I can’t wait to marry you.” He whispered, more to himself than to her. 

“I can’t wait to marry you too, Oscar. Now, let's go feed these hungry kids. I made special birthday pancakes.”

[ficsbyrike]

Your Possessiveness Will be the Death of Me

pairing: caleb x reader

TW: graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, toxic relationships

Summery: caleb won’t let you go to the hospital

Word count: 3,833

Notes: I promised someone that my next Caleb fanfic would be fluff but apparently I am incapable of writing anything happy 😭😭 might be a little ooc

A wanderer. Claws. The stinging feeling on your abdomen. The rest was a blur.

The city had recently become more dangerous with an increase of wanderer sightings. You thought—foolishly—that because of your hunter training, this wouldn’t affect you in any significant way. More on site work, perhaps, but nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It never occurred to you that you could become a victim of a wanderer yourself.

You had been walking down the street when out of nowhere, in a cruel sneak attack, a wanderer had jumped out and ambushed you. Rendered defenseless for a few moments, it was able to leave a pretty nasty gash on your abdomen before it was promptly dealt with.

It stung badly.

It felt as if the sky was very low. It was cold as shit out. You could see your hot breath rise up in puffs of white through the inky black sky, and as if the universe conspired to spite you even more, it had begun snowing.

Your blood glistened brightly in the neon lights of the city.

It was around 2:30 in the morning. You have to be up early tomorrow. God…

You raked your brain for a moment. The warm blood seeping between your fingers made it hard to focus.

Linkon Hospital was too far away for you to walk to without collapsing half way through. And, in some cruel joke, your phone had been smashed on the pavement while you were fighting the wanderer so there was no way you could call anyone for help.

You only had one option. But it was your last resort.

Caleb lived close by, but he didn’t want to see you. It wasn’t just a hunch or a feeling, you knew. Although he didn’t outright say it, you ended on pretty bad terms last time you saw each other. Regrettable words were thrown, tears were shed. Even though Caleb tried to explain himself—why he left, why he lied about being dead—you called the conversation there, saying you weren’t in the mood to fight anymore. Since then, Caleb has sent you countless text messages in hopes of staying in touch. At first, he would apologize continuously. Then, when he perhaps realized that his attempts were futile, he resorted to simply sending short messages about how his day went, what interesting things he saw today, and good morning good night texts. You pridefully ignored all of the messages. They angered you, even. You felt as if he was trying to guilt you into forgiving him by using his status as a long-time best friend and pretending like nothing was wrong.

He knows what he did. And you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

With those thoughts in mind, you promptly blocked his number until further notice. Although sometimes you wondered whether he was still sending you messages despite knowing they weren’t getting through to you.

If you showed up at his door now, would he turn you away? Even if he was angry at you, he wouldn’t turn away a shivering, injured woman. Right? But even if he didn’t, it would be so awkward to confront the issue with him again. Perhaps you just won’t say anything unless he brings it up himself. Still, he could simply shut the door in your face and leave you on the street. And he had every right to do so, with the way you’ve been treating him. You probably would have done the same in his situation. Probably.

Swallowing your last bit of pride, you began shuffling over to Caleb’s residence, your hand pressed tightly against the fresh wound. He had sent you his new address during one of his routinely text messages, and you had unconsciously memorized it because it was a part of town you always passed by to get to the train station.

With every step you took, you felt pressure in your wound. It would open up again and again and fresh blood would seep in between your fingers. This only made you more antsy and you felt your heart speed up.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long walk, you finally stood at the front door of Caleb’s house. It was cute. A townhouse surrounded by similar looking buildings in the middle of the city. Even though the others had distinctions about them—flower beds hanging out windows, chairs and fairy lights dotting the balconies—Caleb’s house was the one with the least character. It stood there, gray with no lights in any of the windows, as if he had only just moved in a few days ago.

You brought your hand up to knock on the door, but then you hesitated. You were angry at him, but that was fine because you knew that sooner or later you would forgive him. But you couldn’t have the same assurance that he would forgive you.

You shook your head, eracing the image of Caleb’s darkened eyes from your mind, and knocked.

Whatever happens happens.

For a few moments, there was silence. It would only be natural if he had gone to sleep, considering the deep hours of the night. But then, to your surprise, you heard the noise of shuffling coming from the inside, followed by another short silence. Just as you thought that he was ignoring you, the door swung open, revealing Caleb’s tall frame in the doorway.

He was a bit paler since the last time you saw him. And a bit thinner too. You guessed it was just in your nature to worry about him, as you had done so many times in the past.

It was still cold as shit out. Your thin hunter uniform is doing little to protect you from the chilly air. But somehow, your skin still felt hot. Snowflakes still slowly glided down into your hair.

You cleared your throat, “Caleb.”

Just as the words had left your mouth, you wished for the earth below you to open up and swallow you whole. You come to his front door in the middle of the night looking like hell—exhausted, dirty, blood pouring out of your side and your nose—and the only word you can manage is his name? Were you stupid?

You scanned Caleb’s eyes for any emotions. Was he angry? Or at least disappointed in you?

He didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze falling onto your wound. You shifted self consciously.

“What happened to you?”

His question caught you off guard, prompting you to look up at him again.

“I got into a fight.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit,” he said, and you sighed.

Surely this was the same Caleb you knew. He wouldn’t just leave you out here.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

You swiftly shake your head.

“It's minor. I’m not crippled. I’ll live,” you lie through your teeth, “can I crash at your place? I’ll be out of your hair by morning. It’s really cold out here.”

You dragged your one of your hands against the bottom of your nose, smudging the blood pooling there.

Caleb stepped aside, a familiar smirk decorating his face, “be my guest.”

***

Caleb’s residence was just as barren inside as it was outside. Only the bare necessities scattered his living room. But it was warm.

You tried taking off your shoes, but with your wound, it was a little hard to do. Once Caleb saw you struggling, he quickly leaned down and helped you.

“Thanks. Do you by chance have any disinfectant? And some gauze?”

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt.”

“No. It seriously doesn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me missy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Go sit on the couch.”

You did as he commanded, stumbling over to the couch before sitting down. Momentarily, there was the sound of running water and soon enough, Caleb came back with a clean, wet towel. He tried to gently lift up your shirt, but your hand stopped him.

“I’m fine. Really. Can I sleep on your couch? I’m really tired.”

Caleb’s worried eyes met yours, “you are not fine. You’re bleeding all over my floor. Stop being so stubborn and work with me here, yeah?”

He spoke in that same friendly voice, but it was obvious that there was concern in his expression.

You gently let go of his wrist with some hesitation, biting your bottom lip as he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the couch next to him. Your wound was now completely exposed, along with your bare stomach. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but just having the wound out in the open was enough to put you on edge.

He inspected your injury. His brow furrowed before he brought the damp towel to your skin. You hissed and recoiled slightly. Caleb flinched, but held the towel gently in place.

“Sorry pipsqueak. It’s gonna hurt no matter what. Just… squeeze my arm if it gets too much.”

You didn’t say anything.

Caleb’s touch was warm. You felt his soft fingers on the tender skin of your side. It almost made you shiver.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? Any later, and you would’ve bled out on the goddamn street,” he murmurs, and for a moment, you didn't know how to reply.

“My phone broke,” You say dumbly.

Then there was silence for a few moments. It was quiet. The only sound was his steady breathing and the clock ticking as the seconds slipped by.

“Are you angry?” You ask when he didn’t say anything.

Caleb shook his head, “no. You have every right to want to avoid me,” he sighed, “I just wish I wasn’t your last option.”

Silence again. Tik-tok… tik-tok…

“I thought you might turn me away,” you finally admitted.

“You know I wouldn’t let you bleed out on my doorstep. No matter how angry I get at you.”

“No, I don’t know that,” you whisper, “I feel like I don’t really know you anymore…”

Caleb finally looks up at you, a hint of hurt betrayed in his eyes, “Do you think… you think I changed that much?”

“I don’t know. But the Caleb I knew would never pretend to be dead for a whole year, leaving me by myself. So, yeah… I guess I don’t really know you anymore.”

“You had other people to turn to for help.”

“Sure. But in the end, who’s taking care of me?”

Caleb sighs again and turns back to your wound. Although he is trying to seem preoccupied, you can tell that he has a lot on his mind.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” he finally says, “for now, let’s take care of your wound, yeah? The bleeding hasn’t stopped yet. I’ll need some water to wipe you down and see how deep your injury really is. Let me take you to the bathroom. It’ll be easier to do this there.”

Caleb helps you up. Then, he helps you walk over to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your upper torso firmly but gently. Then, when he’s sure that you are able to stand upright on your own, he meticulously picks out the temperature of the water, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold.

He soaks the towel under the thin stream of water. Your old blood dyes the sink red, leaving a gruesome sight.

You feel dizzy from the blood loss. And slightly sleepy too. You grab onto the edge of the skin in an attempt to pull yourself together. The dim, buzzing light and the splashing of water continuously lull you to sleep.

Finally, when Caleb decided that he got most of the blood out from the towel, he wrings it, and brings it up to your wound again.

You take a sharp breath, colorful curses spilling out of your mouth unchecked, “haah… Caleb…”

He gently wipes away at the edges of the wound, trying hard to be as tender as possible. Despite this, he cleans up your wound with practiced efficiency leaving you to wonder how many times he has patched himself up during dark nights like these.

“You’re doing well,” Caleb says, running the towel under clean water again.

The cycle repeats a few times. By the time Caleb deems that he had cleaned the wound thoroughly enough, you are standing there, subtly trembling in pain. The sink, the floor, and both yours and Caleb’s hands are covered in your blood. You hope that it looks worse than it actually is.

“How is it?” You ask finally.

Caleb rustles through one of the storage compartments, and takes out fresh white gauze. However, your blood on his hands stains it as soon as he touches the bandages.

“It’s pretty deep. You’ll need to take it easy for a while,” he says.

Gritting your teeth as he wraps the gauze around your abdomen, you hold your breath.

“Relax,” Caleb utters, “the worst part is over.”

He wraps the gauze around you a few more times before securing it with a little bow at the end.

“There. Good as new.”

He lets out a sharp sigh, dusting his hands off like a mechanic, and straightens out to look at you again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. But I’m worried. Should I go to the hospital?”

“No need. I’m here to take care of you, right?”

You nod.

You didn’t know what came over you then, but your body acted faster than you could think. You placed your hands on either side of his face and planted a small kiss on the edge of his lips.

He seemed stunned for a minute.

“You know I missed you, right?” You whisper, your fingers gently running through his raven hair.

“I thought you hated me,” he breaths.

“I do. But I can do both at the same time. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I missed you too.”

“I hope you never leave again. Because I won’t forgive you a second time.”

Caleb’s eyes flicker before he leans in closer and presses a firm kiss to your lips.

God, it was as if you were made for each other.

All of these years of yearning to the most recent worries that plagued your mind came bubbling up to the surface until they finally exploded like a volcano.

He wraps his arms around you. The need for him to be closer to you became stronger, to the point where it was almost animalistic. Your exhales became his inhales as he pushed you up against the skin, deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled within his hair, and his hands slowly mapped out the bare skin of your back. You couldn’t help but shiver.

You hated him so much. But God… it was impossible to stay away. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing that nothing good was going to come out of this. Maybe he would hurt you again. Maybe you were stupid to come running back to him at the first sign of affection. But that didn’t matter at this moment. Right now, you only knew him. He was your world. And you were his.

“Wait, wait. Caleb,” you gasp suddenly, “fuck.”

Caleb immediately steps back as if he was burned.

“What’s wrong?”

You look down at your wound. It was still bleeding. A faint dark red color peaked out from behind the bandages, a signal to it probably opening up again.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay. It’s very late. We’re both not in our right mind,” you say, heart still hammering in your chest.

Caleb hesitantly nodded. His face and t-shirt was smudged with the blood that undoubtedly came from your hands.

“Maybe I should go to the hospital,” you say again.

A dull throb pulsed over where your wound was, and although you trust that Caleb did a good job of cleaning it, you knew that he wasn’t a medical professional. Maybe you needed stitches. It would be a shame if you bled out in Caleb’s apartment for no reason other than your own carelessness.

“Damn it,” He curses, “I should’ve been more careful, you’ll bleed through these bandages too.” Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re probably right, but I’ll be honest, I’m not really comfortable with letting you out of my sight just yet. I just… just let me try to add a few more layers of gauze, yeah? And if that doesn’t work, we’ll figure things out from there.”

Caleb takes out more gauze and wraps it around your lower torso again, a bit more tighter this time. He steps back to inspect how much of the gauze has already been bled through, his brow furrowing.

“Damn it…” he mutters.

You put your hand on his arm to stop his continuous fidgeting, “Caleb. Calm down.”

“You’re right. No… I just… You’re bleeding. How are you still bleeding? I’ve never seen you be this chill about an injury before. You remember when you were learning how to ride a bike when we were kids? You would cry so hard when you so much as scraped your knee against the pavement and would run to grandma so she could comfort you.”

“I remember. You were not the best teacher. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten my front teeth knocked out.”

“You were sensitive as a kid.”

“I grew out of it.”

“Apparently.”

There was another pause. It seemed that every time you and Caleb found a common ground, there was something that would always bring you back and remind you that everything had changed. He was not the reckless little boy from your childhood that you remember. And, in turn, you were not the sensitive little girl that he remembers.

When did everything become so different?

Caleb’s apartment suddenly became cold again.

Caleb shook his head before speaking, “never mind. Have you had dinner? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know if I can stomach anything right now.”

There was a beat of silence again, as if Caleb was choosing his words carefully, “not even rice? Or maybe some broth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I’ll order you something. Whatever you want.”

***

Caleb lended you one of his shirts since yours was stained with blood.

As promised, he ordered you takeout from a place that worked late and forced you to eat dinner. Even though you felt a little sick, you still made yourself eat.

He didn’t have a dinner table, so you sat on the couch while Caleb fed you.

“Why don’t you have a dinner table?” You inquire, “haven’t you moved in months ago?”

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

It was nice to catch up with him, even though it was a little awkward at times. You would talk for a few minutes before falling into silence again. Then someone would say something and the conversation would strike up again.

No one mentioned the kiss from earlier.

The familiar and slightly domestic atmosphere was almost enough to make you forget your previous worries. Almost.

There was a slight buzzing in your head, and then a wave of dizziness overcame you, harder than before.

You calmly, although wobbly, got up from the couch, and looked down at Caleb.

“Caleb, take me to the hospital.”

Caleb followed you up, “Hold on. Wait.”

You started walking towards the door, feeling like you could collapse at any moment. Caleb beat you to the front door, blocking it with his body.

“You’re not in the condition to go anywhere. Look at you. You can barely stand!”

“Then you take me!”

“Listen. I’ll take care of everything. You can’t go anywhere, even with my help.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me on this, pipsqueak,” He grabbed your arm a little more forcefully then he intended, “You’re not leaving in this state. No one will take better care of you than me.”

You bite at your bottom lip. What has gotten into him? Was he really just willing to let you bleed out just because he didn’t want you to leave?

Mustering up your last bit of courage and strength, you forcefully tug back on your arm that Caleb was holding, causing him to stumble forward a few steps. The plan was to get around him when he was caught off guard, however, when you retreated your arm in such a sudden motion, the muscles on your abdomen contracted, causing you to shudder in pain.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to put up a fight any further.

“Damn it, pipsqueak. I told you not to argue with me on this.”

Caleb gently helped you up, not minding your little stunt. He helped carry you to his room, tucking you into bed, bringing the covers all the way up to your chin even though you were hot. His scent enveloped you.

He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, “you know I only want what’s best for you.”

You nod.

You realized that perhaps you should’ve seen this coming from the very beginning. The way he clung on to you when you first came, the way he never let you out of your sight. He wouldn’t let you go now. No matter how much you struggled against him. And you couldn’t say that you hated the idea. This was the person you loved the most. The person who knew you best. The person who would take care of you better than anyone.

He was the person you turned to at the end of the day.

Caleb respectfully sat down on the floor across from you, resting his head on the edge of his bed. Lost in thought, his fingers met yours. Then he brought them up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss.

“I’m mad about you,” he whispers, “I think I’ll die if you ever continue to ignore me like you did.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Sleep tight, pipsqueak.”

It was four in the morning and the door was closed and Caleb's breathing gradually evened out. The light sound of cars passing on the street below was the only sound. In the haziness of the deep hours of the night, you were back in grandma’s house for a moment. You had snuck into Caleb's room again because you were scared of the sound of cars outside and the shadows on the wall of your room.

The pain in your side is unbearably excruciating. You carefully peel the blanket up to see Caleb’s sheets covered in blood. Your shirt had completely soaked through, and there was no doubt that your gauze had done little to prevent the blood flow. You felt unbearably hot, and your heart was thumping out of your chest.

Without thinking much further, you covered yourself with Caleb’s blanket and turned to the side, scumming to deep sleep shortly after.

At least you were with the person who knows you best.

At least you were with the person who loves you the most.

Masterlist

[maladaptivewriting]

since the tiktok ban, i've been seeing a lot of stuff where people blame americans for jegulus and i can't stop thinking about it. i don't know why people feel this way, but i am prepared to make an argument. so please allow me to make my case.

[also this is completely based on generalizations. i know americans that hate jegulus and love jily, and i know british people who hate jily and love jegulus]

so i've never been a jily girl. even years before i found jegulus, i never cared about that ship. i straight up didn't even know that people wrote fics about them specifically. (i actually still don't know if people do write fics about only them because i would never seek out something like that).

originally, i'd thought it was just because i only cared about the golden trio characters and occasionally sirius and remus, but the more i got into the marauders era, the more i realized that james and lily together were the standouts, i just really didn't care for them.

it got to the point where i only read fics that referenced jily if they were extremely background to the story (which they almost always were bc there is just not that much to say about them) or preferably if both of them were already dead and it was just remus, sirius, and harry who remained.

shortly after i really started getting into the fandom and writing for jegulus, i spoke to someone who hated jegulus and loved jily, and i told them that i'd always felt like james and lily were on the road to divorce before they died. this person was SCANDALIZED. they could not understand why'd said that.

now granted, this person was in their early twenties and in my experience, if you haven't lived long enough to see a lot of your friends go through divorces, then the idea that james and lily might divorce may seem crazy.

however, and this is where the american thing really comes in, i realized after this conversation why i felt that there was no way that james and lily were going to make it and that was specifically because of growing up a conservative christian bible belt ass place.

do you know how many couples i knew in high school who started dating their senior year even though they seemingly had nothing in common, had sex one time and didn't use protection because sex education is extremely limited down there, got pregnant, and had to have shotgun wedding?

so. fucking. many.

do you know how many of them are still married?

only one.

so when i see jily, two characters who have nothing in common beyond being gryffindors, get together, have a kid, and get married (not necessarily in that order) all within like two years, i know that the odds are not in their favor. those two aren't staying together. don't play with me.

now i don't know how people feel about young marriages in other parts of the world, especially in the uk, but i've spoken to a lot of americans, especially ones from the south, and so many of them have had the exact same experiences with their peers. i just can't help but wonder if that lends itself to less people being interested in jily.

i have other arguments to this, like that jily is not as entertaining as almost every other ship that james or lily could be involved in and americans being partial to entertainment above all else, or the american (and christian) obsession with the concept of redemption and self sacrifice making regulus a more compelling character than one that lived and died good (lily and james), but this was the one i wanted to focus on today.

[kiyo-cant-write]

hey, this is my first time sending a req, but can you write azul learning that reader has a crush on jade? like they tell azul and whenever they’re asked why they like him, they say something like “he’s cute” or “he’s so babygirl” or something and they’re just totally smitten

sorry if reqs aren’t open! ty <3

reader with a crush on jade talking to azul ✧･ﾟ

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Thank you for requesting! Yes, they are open (for anyone wondering!) Very happy to write some biases because I have a personal situation atm that is very stressful for me /gen pos

I love this request and I am excited to tackle it. I saw a few ways for this to go and ultimately went with the most comedic route!

So I am sorry if you wanted unrequited love, pining, and angst. Feel free to request again with more details if you think my take wasn't what you were looking for xD

Anyways, enjoy!! ^^

.

Summary: [Name] has one person on their mind and his name is Jade Leech. However, the person they choose to share these sentiments with is Azul Ashengrotto, owner and proprietor of the Mostro Lounge. And he is so happy to hear about it (/s)

TW/CW: None

Notes: gender-neutral reader, the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, they/them pronouns for the reader, pre-relationship Jade/Reader but Jade isn't really present for most of it in narrative-

Guest Stars: Floyd Leech, Jade Leech (mentioned, brief)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Azul Ashnegrotto (& Jade Leech)

Azul is annoyed from the moment it comes up.

He thinks that this meeting will be about business and instead... It's about Jade. Jade? Not even the twins, literally JUST JADE.

He wants to sigh but withholds it for the first half to be polite.

[Name] is very passionate in their rant[?] about Jade.

They say many phrases that Azul does not understand.

He knows many things... slang just isn't one of those things.

He hardly understands why they are so captivated by Jade.

Jade isn't a bad person, outright, but to Azul, he's just... been there. The same could be said of Jade's twin brother, Floyd.

Azul wants this interaction to be over, it's awkward.

But [Name] did not answer, they just kept on yapping. /ref

This is getting tiring for the young merman. What even... is this?

As it continues, Azul finds himself starting to see their point.

This octomer maybe realizes that he is bisexual during this interaction. But he's not sure he wants to think about that yet.

He does not intend to help [Name] woo Jade unless they ask.

Floyd is also there. Being Floyd.

Azul was quite sure he didn't plan for this today. It wasn't on his schedule, he couldn't imagine why it would be. Who let them in? He sighed at the thought. He knew that this was an esteemed guest of the Mostro Lounge, he should be nice to them, they were a "friend" to him now, after all... And he valued them within reason...

Floyd had gone as far as to say that he and [Name] were the "best" friends of the group. Azul didn't really care. But he supposed the value must be true if the twins were interested. Jade seemed equally enthusiastic about this when it had been discussed.

Sigh. But this? This was pressing every button he had in the worst of ways and he was having trouble ignoring it. Every word grated on his last nerve and made him want to scream (and that would not be good for his image!).

"[Name]..." he began, only to be cut off by their (ongoing) speech.

"Azul! Don't you just love Jade?"

Azul paused. What? What did [Name] just ask me? Had he misheard them? He had to have misheard them. There was no way...

Composing himself, he answered.

"He is an associate of mine, yes—"

He was cut off by [Name] before he could finish the sentence.

"But isn't he dreamy?" they asked him.

Double what? Oh, this was happening. Joy.

"Well, you see—" Azul began, trying once more to explain before he was cut off again by the over-excited Prefect of Ramshackle.

"I just think he's so babygirl."

"You... what?" Azul said, turning to them with enough force to be cause for worry about the state of his neck.

"I said—" [Name] attempted to repeat before he cut them off.

"No, I heard you," Azul told them, "You consider Jade as a woman?"

This had to be some kind of land thing. Right? That, or he was once again spending too much time with books and not enough time with real people. It was just as his mother and grandmother had always said back home under the sea. He sighed at the very memory of it.

"No?" [Name] said, "Well, I mean, unless I should. Should I?"

Azul thought about it for a moment. Jade wasn't one to care about gender but he had never mentioned anything about womanhood. Noting that he answered their question with honesty.

"...He hasn't said anything to me about the matter."

"Oh, good. I wouldn't want to misgender Jade."

[Name] seemed relieved.

"You. I. You?" for a moment, Azul was at a loss for words, "Nevermind. [Name], what in the world has you so captivated with Jade today?"

They seemed to melt a little at the mention of Jade's name. They were clearly... invested in Jade. Surely this wasn't normal? Was it?

"He's just so—"

Azul sighed, cutting them off to explain he understood the concept.

"A young girl, I heard you the first time," the octomer said.

"He's just so perfect I can't even right now!!" [Name] gushed.

A second sigh escaped Azul, he wanted this moment to end. It was painfully awkward to hear about his... colleague like this. Not to mention inappropriate! They should just go tell Jade about this interest they had. Why him? What did he do to invite this?

"That makes two of us, though my frustration hardly lies with Jade."

"Hm?" [Name] asked, confused by the statement.

What did Azul mean by that, exactly?

"Nothing, nothing," Azul assured them through gritted teeth.

Like that, [Name] was back on their Jade high.

"Just... Jade."

"Indeed, er, I suppose," Azul said, relishing in the quiet that grew between them as [Name] observed Jade working from afar.

Jade and Floyd were waiting tables today. Floyd had complained that he was not in a "cooking mood" and decided that running orders around the lounge was much more "fun." That one gave Azul a headache, but that was normal.

Regardless, Azul only had one thought as [Name] watched Jade...

Silence! Sevens, finally.

But as he took a moment alone with the subject, his mind wandered down every path that [Name] had suggested about Jade, about the world. What would be different if Jade were a woman? Was Jade attractive? These were possibilities that Azul had never entertained.

It was enough to push toward a headache if he wasn't careful. Too much new information could be harmful to the mind, he knew this well. But it was something that his thoughts seemed to hook into, holding on tightly as if to say "Try to take this from me."

Azul's mind was a montage of every moment between himself and Jade (Floyd was also there but that was not important at the moment) since they had come to land. From Land Camp to Night Raven College... He had spent a lot of time with Jade.

Had something changed? For him? Jade? Anyone? Floyd?

...Maybe not Floyd. Unless? Hm, the twins in this light. Men in this light. Men? Men? Oh, dear. Well... it was something to think on. Something to not tell Mother, or Grandmother... or Stepfather...

"..."

He stood silently until [Name] poked his shoulder.

"Uhm... Azul? Are you okay?" they asked him, seeming a tad worried.

"Hm? I am fine, I suppose. You've given me something to..." the octomer trailed off for a moment, "Think on, I suppose."

"I did?" they asked, confused at the statement.

He didn't want to elaborate on this just yet. Too soon, far too soon.

"You did," he told them, "Just some... New information."

"Oh," [Name] said, "You're welcome, then?"

They laughed albeit a bit awkwardly as they spoke.

"SHRIMPY!!" a voice rang out from across the room.

Ah, they were noticed by a moray. The moray was sprinting toward them, closing in. Closer, closer... Target acquired. Squeeze. It was much gentler than when Azul instructed Floyd with clients.

"Hi, Floyd!" [Name] greeted him.

"Heyy," Floyd offered, "What are you doing with Azul, huh? Is he keeping you to himself?~"

[Name] tilted their head to the side at the question. What did Floyd mean by that? They liked Jade. They thought Floyd knew that but they shrugged it off as a Floyd-ism.

"We were just chatting," they told him.

"Maa, sounds boring! Wanna come play with me?"

Azul was almost thankful that there was a distraction from his obvious inner confusion. He had to hand it to Floyd's eccentricities, they came in handy sometimes (not often, but sometimes).

The eelmer picked up the human and slung them over his shoulder with ease. This was why people were scared of Floyd. He has monstrous physical strength.

"Eh?? Floyd, where are we going?" [Name] asked him, holding onto his shoulder to keep from accidentally falling onto the floor.

"We're playing 'Let's Bother Jade'!" Floyd told them, running toward his brother at the same speed he'd run towards [Name] earlier.

Azul turned to see Floyd (and [Name]) inches from colliding with Jade (who was holding 4 plates of food)...

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[chiiyuuvv]

jo's diary ★

classmate!jo 1.2k words

notes! inspired from "when &t likes you" brief of harua, taki, maki, and being drunk

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

august 2th, friday, 11:20 am

dear diary.. never thought i’d be writing in my journal during school hours, i must have accidentally slipped it in my bag when i was studying with maki last night. i know i should be paying attention to my lecture, but i can’t focus when she’s around. i have no clue what her name is, but i know she’s the prettiest girl i’ve laid my eyes on. apparently her class dispersed, or did she need to have a word with my teacher? i can’t remember, my mind went blank when she stepped in the room. anyways, there’s a test coming up and i really need to focus, no matter how difficult it is. cya :) 

6th, tuesday, 9:39 pm

i saw her again, the pretty girl. i bumped into her in the hallway.. literally. she was carrying some books and couldn’t see what was in front of her while i was zoned out on my music. her books fell when we collided, and i quickly rushed to help clean up the mess. i didn’t even realize it was her until we made eye contact. truthly, i had forgotten all about her after she entered my class, so imagine how shocked i was when i saw her again. she looked.. so precious up front, i completely froze when our eyes locked. there’s so many things i wanted to say, so much i wanted to do, but our time was cut short when the ball rang. she mustered a small, very cute “sorry,” took her books out of my hands, and ran to class. i was still frozen solid. i even got a tardy for being late. i’m such a loser.

8th, thursday, 7:56 pm

i don’t know what came over me, but i asked for the pretty girl’s name today. it’s y/n.. it suits her well. i learnt she has a tendency to carry large books half her size everywhere, so i offered to take them off her hands. at the time, it felt natural to want to help her but to think about it, that was so weird. everyone knows me as the quiet guy, i don’t know when the random surge of confidence blossomed. i’m sure my friends are probably cheering me on, that is.. if i told them about y/n. i’m keeping her as a secret as of now, i don’t want someone like taki scaring her off. that is, if she even likes me. i doubt it, she’s so out of my league. 

10th, saturday, 3:21 am

she has the cutest giggle, it keeps ringing in my head. i can’t get her out of my mind.

12th, monday, 7:39 pm

i didn’t know y/n had the same bus route as me. as soon as i got onto the vehicle, she immediately waved me over so we could sit together. it warms my heart that she got excited to see me all because i helped carry her books. she’s so funny, my face hurts from smiling so much. and she’s also so sweet! she gave me snacks during the bus ride. i think i’m falling for her.

21th, wednesday, 6:28 am

i have a habit of carrying her books, therefore walking her to class. she’s says i’m so cute for helping her everyday, and i told her she’s even cuter. i don’t know what type of demon possessed me to say that, it just flew out my mouth. i thought she would get so uncomfortable from my remark, heck, even hate me, but she only laughed. the cutest laugh, i should say. i watched her cheeks pinken, and she had this little smile tugging at her lips whenever she looked at me. she’s so adorable, i can’t wait to see her today.

22th, thursday, 9:38 pm

i’m going to kill maki, WHY would he shout “jo’s got rizz!!” when i’m talking to the love of my life? i meant y/n. what does rizz even mean??? i definitely need to study english more.

23th, friday, 10:47 pm

the confident surge came back. this time it was even worse. i asked her out to lunch, and then her number. i guess that’s pretty tame for others, but i’m scared of making the first move. it makes me feel vulnerable. y/n was pretty chill about it, so it made me feel better about my actions. she’s so good at assuring me with things. the boys said i had hearts in my eyes while i was eating lunch with her. it probably was true considering butterflies kept roaming in my stomach from talking to her. anyways, should i put one heart beside her contact name, or two?

27th, tuesday, 8:29 pm

i’m still shaking from what happened a few hours ago. y/n invited me for ice cream after school and of course i said yes. i could never say no to that ball of sunshine. i offered to walk her home after. i was talking about something stupid when she suddenly walked super close next to me, the back of her hand brushing against mine. my heart jumped at the contact. i noticed her getting quieter as we talked, and i kept seeing her steal glances at me out of the corner of my eye. help, i got so nervous, i kept stuttering T_T and when i was about to drop her off at her house, she grabbed my face and kissed my cheek. i’m so.. i.. she ksiised mj ceek seh kassid..

28th, wednesday, 11:38 am

i bought her flowers. i bought her flowers. i bought her flowers. and then i gave them to her in front of her friends. speaking of her friends, they’ve been smirking and nudging y/n whenever i’m near. harua was with me when it happened, and he says y/n likes me. does she? there’s no way.

september 7th, saturday, 2:39 am

there was a party a few hours ago, and now y/n is asleep in my bed. i’m on the couch right now. i’m not even sure what happened, i’m still a little buzzed from the drinks. all i know is we were partying, and then i took her to my place with our hands intertwined. did i kiss her? i can’t remember anything.

7th, saturday, 8:00 am

i woke up just now feeling something heavy in my arms. turns out it’s y/n. she must have sleep walked out of my bed and to the couch, and now her face is nuzzled in my neck. i never thought this would feel so comfortable. 

21th, saturday, 12:00 am

dear diary.. after a few weeks of stressing out, i finally asked y/n out on a date. i’m so thankful for the boys and her friends for help because i was such a nervous train wreck. she looked so cute, all dressed up with a necklace i bought her a few days prior. we laughed so much, our time together was very memorable. i kissed her goodnight as well. her lips tasted like sweet strawberries. my heart is still swooning right now, and i doubt i’d be able to get a lick of sleep tonight. still, goodnight diary, and goodnight y/n, my pretty girl ♥︎

︴bonus! think i got a little carried away.. heh. anyways its midnight and i should be sleeping rn but wtv wtv wtv. ALSO it's "bandtober" meaning my updates will be slower than usual. see you in november!

▸ taglist 📬 @cherrycolaberry , @slytherinshua , @enhacolor , @lakoya (welcome!!)

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[theocddiaries]

Shadow: I've been like this for as long as I can remember. Therapist: Can you give me an example? Shadow: Well… I remember that sometimes the Professor would spend time with Maria and me, just the three of us, and we used to play educational games. It wasn’t part of the tests or trials they made me undergo to assess my performance and endurance. But I had to do it perfectly, too. I guess I realized that night when we played spelling words; I felt this huge weight on my shoulders, that I had to win. Therapist: And did you? Shadow: Yes. Know what the winning word was? Responsibility. Therapist: Is that what you feel? A responsibility to win all the time? To always be the best? Shadow: That's one way to put it. Therapist: And this responsibility, where does it come from? Shadow: I'm not sure. It's just… there. Therapist: So it's an internal pressure. Shadow: Kind of. I mean, people expect things from me. Therapist: Like what people? Shadow: The Professor, Maria, the scientists back in the day. Nowadays, too. GUN… It's not all internal. Don't get me wrong. I like the way I'm wired. It's what makes me who I am. Therapist: And how is that, being who you are? Shadow: I don't know. Mostly good. A little exhausting. Sometimes hard. I guess there's your answer. It's hard being me. Therapist: What about your friends? Would you tell me about them? Shadow: They're pretty normal, I guess. I'm not like any of them, but that doesn't really bother me. Therapist: Ever? Shadow: Only when they say things like, "don't freak out" or "go do something fun." Therapist: So, you feel like they don't experience the same pressures you do. Shadow: Not at the same level, I guess. Therapist: Hmm. Why do you think that is? Shadow: Why are we even talking about that? They don't have anything to do with this. They don't get me. Therapist: And how's that feel? Shadow: I don't know. Therapist: You're a smart guy. Try a little harder. Shadow: I said I don't know. Therapist [waits patiently] Shadow: …I feel… Kind of alone. [Meanwhile, at GUN HQ] Abraham: …And when you're done, secure the area and get testimony from the locals. Then, write it all down and give me an oral report-- Sonic: Sure thing. For when? Abraham: For today. Sonic: Today? Abraham: Shadow can handle it. Sonic: Oh, no no, I'm sure he can, but… I’ve got more things to do while I cover for him today, you know? I have to take Omega to the mechanic, go grocery shopping because Rouge is out, babysit Cream-- Abraham: What my agents do in their free time is their own business. If he’s managed to juggle his time and you all didn’t notice, then it can’t be that hard. Sonic: …I guess not… [A couple of hours later, Sonic is waiting for Shadow. Shadow gets out the building] Sonic: Hey! How did it go? Shadow: Good. I made another session for next week. How was your day? Sonic: Intense. I had no idea the kind of pressure you're under. Shads, I was just you for half a day and I could barely hold it together. I don't know how you don't have a meltdown every day. Shadow [lunges at him to hug him] Sonic: I--Oh… You okay? Did I say something? Shadow [sobbing]: Yes. Thank you. Sonic: …Okay. [reciprocates the hug slowly. Exhales and rubs his back]: Okay. It's okay.