#are we all meant to just firm it and shrug it off and just let him do and say whatever???

[mr-hopkins]

After Hours with Sunghoon ✨

Synopsis: Seeing Sunghoon cook while wearing a cute apron truly brightens up your day. But what he really wants to devour is another question completely.

Enjoy Reading!

The front door creaked open as you dropped your keys on the table, letting out an exhausted sigh. Work had been relentless, and all you wanted now was a warm hug and some time to unwind. The faint smell of butter and spices had you perking up. Sunghoon’s cooking. A small smile tugged at your lips. Even the thought of him brought warmth after a tough day.

You kicked off your shoes and plopped onto the couch, scrolling through your phone aimlessly, until your boyfriend came out of the kitchen to greet you.

There he was, in a simple tshirt and joggers, with a cute apron on top, looking as breathtaking yet fluffy as always.

“Waah- So you didn't even come inside the kitchen to see me after you got back?! ” he taunted playfully, as if his entire existence wasn’t a walking distraction.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice coming out softer than you intended. You couldn’t help but stare—okay, ogle. The long day at work suddenly seemed worth it if it meant coming home to Sunghoon wearing a cute apron, a little too small for him.

“Rough day?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe, completely oblivious—or so you thought.

You nodded, setting your phone aside. “It’s looking up now, though.”

He raised an eyebrow, catching the teasing lilt in your tone. “Oh, really? And why’s that?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “No reason. Just a nice view to come home to.”

Sunghoon chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’re not even subtle, you know that?”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” you shot back, standing to close the distance between you. You reached out, pretending to fix his hair, but your fingers lingered, brushing against his neck as they slid down. “You don't realise how aggressively irresistible you look wearing this, do you? Walking around like this?”

“I just got done with cooking” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “But if you’re offering me something else to eat…”

Your cheeks burned at the suggestive comment, but you didn’t back down. “Maybe I am."

His laughter filled the room again, and you pouted, playfully smacking his chest. “Stop laughing at me!”

“You’re too cute when you’re flustered.”

You crossed your arms, turning your head away dramatically, but Sunghoon stepped closer, his hand reaching for your chin. He tilted your face back toward him, his touch gentle but firm. The playful glint in his eyes softened, replaced by something deeper.

“You’re serious?” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“Would I flirt this much if I wasn’t?” you whispered, the air between you charged with electricity. Sunghoon’s lips quirked up in a half-smile before he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Then I guess we shouldn’t keep ourselves waiting.”

The world seemed to blur as he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was soft at first, but quickly grew more intense. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer as the day’s exhaustion melted away. Tugging at the apron and untying it in the process.

In that moment, it was just you and him, tangled in a warmth that nothing could ever match.

[lovebugism]

“you were outside for one minute, how can you be dying of hypothermia?” with Steve and ditsy reader🥹

ty for requesting! — you walk in the freezing cold to ask steve if he would still love you if you were a worm (ditzy!fem!r, established relationship, 1.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Your arrival is marked, first, by an ignored knock. 

Steve’s lazing on his couch, heavy with post-work exhaustion, with his resident schmuck slouched at his side. Robin acknowledges the tapping at his door before he does. “You gonna get that?” she mumbles, mostly uncaring and partly distracted by the TV.

Steve shrugs, unblinking. “It’s probably just a package or something.”

“Or maybe it’s your girlfriend,” she retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm as she turns to him with wide ocean eyes. “Remember her?”

Steve scoffs. “She said she wasn’t coming over today… Why do you think you’re here?”

Robin would punch him in the shoulder if she wasn’t so tired. “Asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

Another knock echoes down the foyer. This time, followed by a voice — muffled and achingly familiar. “Can somebody let me in before I die out here?” 

Steve jumps off the couch without thinking, filled suddenly with newfound life and distant horror. He vaguely hears Robin mumble “told ya” as he rushes to the door. 

He wrenches it open with an iron grip around the knob. He’s smacked in the face by the bitter breeze waiting on the other side. Snow falls from heavy clouds, swirling with freezing wind, and you’re standing out in the middle of it all.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Steve blurts. Not because he’s unhappy to see you, but because it’s basically a tundra outside, and you’ve got on the thinnest jacket he’s ever seen.

Your brows pinch as your face swirls something pitiful. Eyes wide and glassy, you blink snowflakes from your lashes. “Dying of hypothermia,” you murmur into your knit scarf, shrinking into your crossed arms.

Steve manages a small laugh. “Okay, you were outside for one minute. You’re not dying of anything— now get in here before you freeze.” He ushers you in with a warm hand pressed against the small of your back. “And I meant, what are you doing here? You said you were staying home ‘cause of the snow.

“I had a very important question to ask you,” you insist while he helps you peel off your jacket and scarf. Crystalline flakes fall from the fabric and onto the hardwood, melting almost instantly.

He hangs both on the rack for you. “You walked half a mile in the snow to ask me a question? Why didn’t you just call?”

“‘Cause it’s too important— I had to see you first.”

Your pout is childlike and firm. Steve concedes with a nod. “Okay. Well, uh— Robin’s here. Is that okay?”

You’re beaming almost instantly, forgetting about the boy entirely as you duck past him and down the entrance hall. You find Robin slumped on his sofa, still in her Family Video vest because unbuttoning it was too much work. Her bitten lips curl into a smile at the sight of you, the ball of sunshine Steve’s trying to tame.

“Are you guys having a sleepover?” you ask, all giddy at the thought.

She leans her elbows along the back of the couch and shrugs. “Well, we were. But since you’re here, I’m thinking we should just kick Stevie out.”

“Yeah. No. Not happening,” Steve deadpans as he appears behind you. He guides you towards the stairs with a warm arm around your shoulder. “C’mon— Let’s go.”

You pout. “Wait. Where are we going?”

“To get you some fresh clothes. I just got a load outta the dryer— Remember when you said you were freezing?”

“I’m past freezing, Stevie. I’m dying.” You groan and lean much of your body weight into the boy beside you. He laughs and carries it no problem.

“I’ll warm you up. You’ll be okay.”

He gets you into his bedroom and starts taking off your clothes. “At least take me out to dinner first,” you quip in a tiny voice as he pulls your sweater up and over your head. He scoffs and replaces it with a sweatshirt. Hissweatshirt. From the laundry basket full of fresh clothes he hasn’t folded yet. Then he sets you on the edge of his bed and tugs your jeans down your thighs, only to put a warm pair of baggy sweatpants over them again.

There’s something distinctly domestic, you think, about someone taking off your clothes only to put fresh ones on you again.

And then, even though he knows you’re perfectly fine, Steve cuddles with you under the sheets of his bed for a moment. He says it’s to help you warm up faster — “‘cause you were dying, remember?” But really, he’d just missed you. In a very simple, human way. And it feels good to hold you to his chest like this.

“Feel better?” he asks, filling the silence of his bedroom, chin bobbing against your head.

“I feel more alive now. If that’s what you’re asking,” you answer.

“Less than an icicle?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you’re the cutest damn icicle I’ve ever seen—” He pulls just far enough way to see your face, smiling when he finds you grimacing at his dumb attempt at flirting. He plants a chaste kiss on your pouted mouth. A low smack fills the bedroom. You’re beaming all over again when he’s gone.

“What was your question again?”

Mouth still sparkling with longing, your face swirls with confusion. “Huh?”

“You said you came over to ask me something.”

“Oh, yeah!” you shout, wiggling out of his hold to face him more. You grow suddenly serious — as serious as a person like you can be, anyway. You talk wildly with your hands as you ramble. “Well, I was at the trailer earlier, and I was talking to Eddie, and I’m pretty sure he was high—”

“Figures,” Steve scoffs.

“—‘Cause outta nowhere he was like, ‘Would you still love me if I was a worm?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah. Obviously. I mean, I’d be sad about it and everything, but I’d still take you everywhere with me.’”

“He might be easier to tolerate that way,” he jokes, pink lips curled into a small smile.

You don’t seem to hear it.

“And then I thought— ‘Oh my god, what about Steve? Like, would he still wanna be my boyfriend if some evil witch turned me into a worm?’ And it really freaked me out, and Eddie was zero help, and then I got so sick about it that I had to come over here and ask you.”

You don’t take a single breath until you’ve vomited all the words out.

Steve — equal parts impressed and worried by you — nods slowly and with wide honey eyes. He calculates carefully what to say, lest the wrong thing spill from his mouth and send you spiraling all over again. “Okay… Well… For starts, yes, I would still love you.”

He swears you breathe a sigh of relief then.

“But like… Can I ask why you got turned into a worm?” he wonders with pinched brows.

“The optics don’t matter,” you insist girlishly.

“Right. Well. Can the evil witch-woman turn me into a worm, too? Or is that against the rules?”

Your doe eyes begin to sparkle, wide and full of hope. “You’d wanna be a worm with me?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distant with disbelief.

Steve scoffs. “Of course, I would. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere without you.”

You knock the breath from his lungs when you lurch suddenly forward. Chest against chest, your arms wrench tight around his neck. He’s stunned for one moment, then hugging you back the very next. His wide palms rest warm along your spine. He manages a laugh despite being halfway strangled.

“I mean, think about it. I could spend the rest of my life hugging you like this if we were a couple of worms.”

“Well, you’re gonna do that anyway,” you quip, muffled into his neck.

Steve hums. “Touché.”

You pull away from him after a moment or more, serious all over again. There’s a firm furrow to the center of your brow and an unsmiling glint in your eye. “We have to set ground rules, though. Just in case.”

“Of course,” the boy concurs, fighting back a smile.

“If I get turned into a worm, and you couldn’t be one with me, what would you do?”

“Like… If I wake up and there’s just… A worm on your pillow?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, face pinching ‘cause he’s really thinking hard. “I’d be really sad.”

“But what would you do with me?”

“I’d get you a tank or something. Or, like, a little necklace to put you in— so I can carry you around everywhere.” He figures that’s the most perfect solution to this wildly unlikely situation, given the risk he couldn’t be there with you. Then your pout deepens, and he second guesses. “Is that okay?”

He can’t believe he’s entertaining this at all, really, but you’re worrying’s got him stressed about it, too.

“I want you to hold me in your hand,” you tell him, quiet and sincere.

Steve nods. “Deal.”

“…And hold me at eye level at all times.”

He laughs before he can stop it. “Sure.”

You start to smile, but don’t let yourself. “But how would you find me?”

“If you got turned into a worm?”

You nod, slow like a sheepish child. “How would you know which worm was me?”

“I’d find you,” he insists.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs with a shrug, mostly uncaring because the idea of finding you has never worried him before. There isn’t a world where the two of you aren’t together. Even in the infiniteness of time and all its parallel existences, Steve thinks you’ve found each other in every single one. 

“I’d always find you. In every universe,” he assures, wearing a crooked smile on his lips when he boops the tip of your nose with his finger. “And out of every worm.”

[zeroseuniverse]

Just Friends?

Word Count: 774 Summary: “Are you two dating?” Haechan would laugh, wave it off, and insist, “Nah, we’re just friends.” Pairing: Haechan X Fem Reader

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Haechan had always been a little too loud, a little too playful, and maybe a little too reliant on the presence of his best friend. But that’s how it had always been—natural, easy, and entirely platonic. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

From the moment they met in high school, they were inseparable. They’d spent countless nights gaming until sunrise, laughing until their sides hurt, and pulling off the kinds of pranks that got them both into trouble. People constantly mistook their closeness for something more, but every time someone asked, “Are you two dating?” Haechan would laugh, wave it off, and insist, “Nah, we’re just friends.”

But recently, the "just friends" label didn’t sit quite as comfortably as it used to.

The cracks began to show at a mutual friend’s wedding. Watching his best friend dressed to perfection, effortlessly chatting and laughing with other guests, made something in Haechan’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore. His usual confidence wavered when he saw her smiling at someone else, and for the first time, he felt like a spectator in her life instead of the main character.

The night only worsened when someone asked them to dance. Haechan’s jaw tightened, his grip on his drink a little too firm as he watched her take the stranger’s hand and head to the dance floor. He tried to focus on anything else—his other friends, the music, even the buffet—but his gaze kept drifting back to her.

Why was he so bothered?

Later, when she finally returned to their table, Haechan’s teasing smile faltered. “Nice moves out there,” he said, his voice a little too casual. “Should I be jealous?”

His best friend shot him a look, half amused, half curious. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of your new dance partner,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light, though the edge of sincerity crept in despite himself.

She shrugged, giving him a playful nudge. “Please, like anyone could compare to you.”

The words were meant to tease, but she sent Haechan’s heart racing. He forced out a laugh, but the knot in his chest tightened. What was happening to him?

Over the next few weeks, everything felt different. He started noticing the little things—how her laugh was his favorite sound, how her presence made everything feel brighter, how he always looked for her face in a crowded room.

It wasn’t one-sided, either. She began noticing the ways Haechan had always cared for her, in his own chaotic but thoughtful way. The way he’d bring her favorite coffee without being asked. How he’d always make sure she got home safely, no matter the hour. How his teasing never crossed a line, always laced with affection instead of malice.

Their friendship became laced with new tension—awkward silences that hadn’t been there before, lingering touches that felt electric, and stolen glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

One night, after a particularly long gaming session, they sat together in the quiet of Haechan’s living room. The only light came from the TV, casting soft shadows across their faces.

“Do you ever think about us?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Haechan froze, his heart pounding. He played dumb, because that’s what he did when things got serious. “What about us? Like, our legendary gaming skills?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft. “No, I mean... us. You and me. Like, if we ever—” she stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

But Haechan didn’t let it drop. For once, he didn’t deflect.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think about it all the time.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. His best friend stared at him, wide-eyed, as Haechan rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“I don’t know when it started,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. And not just as my best friend. I... I think I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “You think?”

“Fine,” Haechan said with a dramatic sigh, his humor creeping back in to mask his nerves. “I know. Happy now?”

She  laughed, and the sound made his chest feel light for the first time in weeks.

“Haechan,” she said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You’re stuck with me forever, you know that, right?”

He grinned, his usual playful confidence returning. “Good, because I’d really like that.”

And just like that, the walls between them crumbled, leaving only the warmth of something real, something inevitable, and something neither of them wanted to let go of.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: "Three's a Party"

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x Aubrey Griffin x fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: three's not a croud if you're with the right people...

Taglist: @elalfywhore @paxaz535

The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears as I leaned against the lockers in the women’s basketball locker room, waiting for KK. The team had just obliterated Seton Hall, 96-36, and the energy in the building was electric. I’d come to every home game this season, partly to support KK and partly because… well, I might’ve developed not one but two massive crushes on two of her teammates: Paige Bueckers and Aubrey Griffin.

They were both captivating in their own way. Paige was smooth-talking and confident, with a sly grin that could make anyone’s knees weak. Aubrey was quieter but no less magnetic, her quiet strength and warmth pulling me in. And as much as I tried to play it cool, KK had caught on to my predicament weeks ago.

“You good, Y/N?” KK’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she appeared beside me, still in her jersey and with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Huh? Yeah, totally,” I lied, standing up straighter.

“You’re lying,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “Is this about the dynamic duo?”

“What? No!” I squeaked, but KK just raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” She shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “You better figure it out before they drive me insane trying to one-up each other.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

KK smirked. “Oh, nothing. You’ll see.”

It didn’t take long to understand what she meant. Paige caught up with me in the hallway as I waited for KK to finish changing. She leaned casually against the wall beside me, her smile disarming.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her voice smooth. “You coming out to celebrate tonight?”

“I was thinking about it,” I replied, trying not to get lost in those piercing blue eyes.

“Well,” she said, leaning in slightly, “if you want something more low-key, I was thinking we could hang out. Just the two of us. You know, celebrate properly.”

My cheeks heated. “Oh, um… I’ll think about it.”

“Cool,” she said, her grin widening. “Let me know.” With a wink, she sauntered off down the hallway, leaving me flustered.

Before I could fully recover, Aubrey appeared. Her approach was quieter, but the intensity in her gaze made my heart race.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You were great cheering tonight. We could hear you.”

I laughed nervously. “Thanks. You all didn’t really need it, though. That was a blowout.”

“Still,” she said, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You always show up for us.”

I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “Of course. KK’s my cousin.”

“Not just for KK,” Aubrey said, her eyes holding mine for a moment too long. “Anyway, I was thinking… if you’re not doing anything later, maybe we could grab a bite. Just us.”

My heart did a flip. “Oh, uh… maybe. I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable, before heading back toward the locker room. I watched her go, my stomach twisting into knots.

Later, as KK and I walked back to my dorm, I groaned. “What am I supposed to do? Paige wants to hang out. Aubrey wants to hang out. I can’t choose, KK. They’re both… perfect.”

KK snorted. “Perfect? Please. Paige talks too much, and Aubrey broods too much.”

“KK,” I whined, smacking her arm lightly.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Y/N, you don’t have to pick. You could just… I don’t know… make it a group thing.”

I shot her a look. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be awkward.”

KK shrugged. “Whatever. I’m just saying, you don’t have to stress about it. Besides, it’s obvious they both like you.”

“Thanks, that helps so much,” I said sarcastically.

She laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop meddling. But seriously, they need to chill before I have to beat them up.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’d pay to see that.”

What I didn’t know was that KK wasn’t done meddling. When we got back to my dorm, she excused herself with a suspiciously vague excuse and disappeared. Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find both Paige and Aubrey standing there, looking equally confused.

“What…?” I began, but KK appeared behind them, grinning.

“Three’s a party, right?” she said, winking at me before walking off. “Y’all figure it out.”

Paige and Aubrey exchanged glances before looking at me. “So… this is awkward,” Paige said, scratching the back of her neck.

“No kidding,” Aubrey muttered.

I sighed, stepping aside to let them in. “Come in. I guess we’re celebrating together.”

They both hesitated before stepping inside, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how awkward they looked. For two people who were usually so confident on the court, they seemed completely out of their depth.

It didn’t take long for the tension to ease, though. We ordered pizza, turned on some music, and started talking about everything from basketball to embarrassing childhood stories. By the time the food arrived, we were all laughing like old friends.

“So, Y/N,” Paige said, leaning back against the couch. “Be honest. Who were you gonna pick?”

Aubrey shot her a look. “Smooth, Paige. Real smooth.”

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I’m curious!” Paige said, grinning. “Come on, just tell us.”

“No way,” I said, shaking my head.

“Fine,” Aubrey said, smirking. “We’ll just have to guess.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Game on.”

The two of them spent the rest of the night playfully competing for my attention, from seeing who could make me laugh the hardest to who could stack the most pizza slices on one plate without it toppling over. By the end of it, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

As the night wound down, I found myself sitting between them on the couch, my head resting on Aubrey’s shoulder while Paige played with the hem of my sweatshirt.

“Okay,” Paige said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” Aubrey said, though she was smiling.

“Why don’t we just… share?” Paige suggested, looking between the two of us.

I sat up, my heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Paige said, her grin mischievous, “why does it have to be one or the other? We could all hang out. Together. No pressure.”

Aubrey considered this, then shrugged. “I’m not opposed.”

I blinked at them, my mind racing. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Paige said. “Besides, three’s a party, not a crowd, right?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Aubrey said, smiling softly. “But we mean it. No matter what you decide, we’re here for you.”

In that moment, I realized that maybe I didn’t have to choose. And with Paige and Aubrey by my side, I knew one thing for sure: this was going to be one hell of a ride.

---

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       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[pandapetals]

…i have an idea that im unsure on whether or not i can write it myself & i’m OBSESSED with how well you always characterize logan so hear me out

i’m always thinking about the boxing scene in origins, so perhaps some boxer!logan where he’s teaching his girlfriend self defense in the gym after hours? you can make it as steamy or fluffy as you want!

i’ve just been dying to submit a request because i’m a fan of your work <3

AHH, thank you so much. I love your account so much! I have been wanting to write about Boxer Logan for some time so this request is literally perfect.

boxer!logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, fighting, teasing, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, established relationship

"Alright, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the empty gym walls. He stood in front of you, hands casually raised. The white tank top he wore clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the sheen of it caught in the flickering overhead lights. He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing in a way that seemed entirely unfair. "You gotta learn how to defend yourself."

You fiddled with the straps of the red gloves he’d given you, tugging at them. "I know, Logan," you said, arching a brow, "but do we really need to do this? I mean, c’mon—what’s the point? I don’t want to hurt you."

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Hurt me? Darlin’, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried." He tilted his head at you. "But you’re welcome to give it a shot."

You narrowed your eyes, torn between amusement and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. He looked too at ease, standing there with his hands up and that teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," you huffed, stepping forward. "But don’t come crying to me if I accidentally break that pretty nose of yours."

"Pretty?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you muttered under your breath.

Logan spread his feet into a fighting stance, nodding toward you. "C’mon, then. First lesson—don’t telegraph. You gotta keep me guessing." He raised a hand to gesture toward your shoulder. "See, you’re tense here. Makes it obvious what you’re about to do. Relax."

"Relax? That’s easy for you to say," you shot back, shaking out your arms. "You don’t have to punch you."

"Exactly," he said with a wink. "Now focus. Don’t think. Just swing."

Taking a deep breath, you stepped in and threw a jab toward his chest—not too hard, but enough to show you meant business. Logan dodged it effortlessly, leaning to the side as though it were a breeze that brushed past him. He gave you an almost pitying look, clicking his tongue.

"Sloppy," he teased, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. "That all you got, sweetheart? I thought you said you didn’t wanna hurt me."

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. "Oh, I will hurt you, Logan," you shot back, a spark of determination lighting in your chest. "Just wait."

He chuckled, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "That’s more like it. Now stop aiming for where I am—aim for where I’m gonna be."

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing as you watched him move. He was testing you, but there was something about the glint in his eye—like he was enjoying this, not just the sparring, but you. You tried to read him, to guess his next step, and when he shifted ever so slightly, you swung again, this time aiming lower.

To your surprise, he stepped right into it, catching your gloved hand in his palm with a sharp smack. His grip was firm but careful, and he grinned down at you, clearly pleased. "Not bad," he said, his voice softening. "You’re getting there."

You groaned, tugging your hand back. "You let me get that one."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, the cocky edge returning. "But you still gotta work on your follow-through. What if I wasn’t nice enough to stop it, huh?"

"Nice? You’re about as nice as a brick wall," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the way he was looking at you.

Logan’s grin softened into something almost fond. "You’ve got more fight in you than you think," he said, reaching out to gently adjust your stance. His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a second before he stepped back. "Now, one more time. And this time, I want you to mean it."

You nodded, steeling yourself. He was still smirking, but there was something else there too—a flicker of pride, maybe, or just the satisfaction of seeing you rise to the challenge. Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him down.

You shifted your weight, fixing your gaze on his chest as if it were a target. Then, without warning, you lunged forward, throwing your whole body into the punch. He moved to dodge, but this time you were ready—you adjusted mid-swing, your fist just grazing his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him blink, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Well, look at that," Logan said, stepping back and rubbing his side with exaggerated drama. "You almost got me."

"Almost?" you said, crossing your arms. "Pretty sure I felt that connect." 

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Next time, maybe try a little harder. You might even make me flinch."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Whatever, let’s just go again.” You stepped back, shaking out your hands like a boxer psyching themselves up.

Logan smirked, circling you slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. His confidence was infuriating—like he was untouchable, always one step ahead. But as he moved, you caught his focus was on your gloves, like he thought that was all you had to work with.

Big mistake.

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as if you were done. "Alright, you win," you said, feigning defeat. "You’re too good, Logan. I give up."

He tilted his head, one brow quirking in suspicion, but the grin never left his face. "Oh, c’mon now, don’t quit on me, sweetheart. Where’s that fire I saw a minute ago?"

"It’s gone," you sighed dramatically, letting your gloves hang at your sides. Then, as he paused in his pacing, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Logan’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something coming.

Instead of throwing a punch, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a split second, Logan froze. His lips were warm and slightly parted, caught completely off guard by the sudden move. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, and then—just as he started to kiss you back—you shifted your weight and swept your foot behind his ankle, knocking him clean off balance.

“Whoa—!” Logan grunted as he hit the mat with a thud, his broad shoulders absorbing most of the impact. He blinked up at you in shock, sprawled out flat on his back.

You straightened, grinning down at him as you tugged your gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. “Gotcha,” you said, hands on your hips.

He stared up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was more surprised or impressed. Then, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’ll be damned. That was sneaky."

You crouched down beside him, trying to look innocent. “What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle a little creative thinking?”

“Creative thinking, huh?” Logan propped himself up on his elbows, his grin turning wolfish. “I don’t think that counts when you cheat.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cheat? Cheat? I think you’re just mad I finally got the drop on you.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he drawled, his tone playful but laced with a hint of a challenge. Before you could blink, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You let out a startled laugh as you tumbled down onto the mat, landing half on top of him.

“Logan!” you protested, trying to pull back, but his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. He was grinning up at you now, his eyes bright with amusement that made your breath catch.

“You’re gettin’ cocky, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I gotta admit, that was a hell of a move.”

You smirked, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “Guess you’re not as quick as you thought you were, huh?”

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along your side. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, your voice dropping to match his. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, Logan pulled you down the rest of the way and kissed you, slow and deliberate. His lips were warm and firm, and he kissed like he fought—with total confidence and just a hint of something wild beneath the surface. The world narrowed to just the two of you: the heat of his body against yours, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his hand slid up your back like he didn’t want to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was a low, satisfied rumble. “Lesson one,” he said, his smirk returning. “Never let your guard down.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Accident II

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Gorry!Reader

Summary: Lunch with your sister

It wasn't often that Kyra got scared of Mini. Sure, Mini got annoyed at her sometimes but it was never like this.

Kyra ducked to hide behind her menu, unwilling to make eye contact as you chattered away to your sister.

Mini nodded along with whatever you were saying but it was clear she wasn't fully focussed on you. All of her attention was firmly on the hand of yours that Kyra was currently death gripping.

She thought, briefly, about dropping it but then she realised that it was the only thing keeping her in even the same country as the awkward interaction that was brewing. If she let go now, she would be out the door sprinting back to Australia the first chance that she got.

Kyra tightened her grip.

You noticed, smiling at her before you refocused on your sister.

"So," Mini said, her first words since you all settled down at the table," How did you two meet?"

"At the pub. We-"

"No," Mini laughed fondly at you," I want to hear it from Kyra."

You didn't seem to find the malice in her tone so you just nodded, pivoting so you were facing Kyra.

Her throat bobbed, suddenly feeling parched. She cleared her throat. "Well...Katie and Caitlin took me to a pub after one of our matches. I tripped..." Kyra pointedly left out that she had tripped and landed her lips upon yours. "And we just started talking."

Mini nodded. "Hmm, okay." Her eyes narrowed briefly as she stared at Kyra before turning back to you. "And you," She said," All it took to get you into football was dating one of my teammates?"

You grinned. "I wouldn't go that far. I just like supporting Kyra."

Mini's gaze returned to Kyra again as you slipped off into the bathroom. Kyra wondered briefly if she should have gotten up to go with you because being alone with Mini right now felt like a nightmare come to life.

She shrunk under Mini's gaze and busied herself with sipping her drink.

"That's my baby sister, Kyra," Mini said, her tone firm like the one she used to tell off Harper.

"I didn't know at the time," Kyra replied," Honest! I would have told you if I knew!"

"Would you?"

Kyra winced. Now that she thought about it, no, she probably wouldn't have told Mini that she was dating you. "I would!" She lied.

"You would have what?" You chose that moment to return to the table, drying off your hands as you slipped into your seat.

"Kyra was just telling me that she would have happily told me that you two were dating if she'd known we were related."

You scrunched up your nose. "I wouldn't have," You said," You're scary sometimes, Kat. If I'd known you two already knew each other then I would have hidden this for longer."

Mini scoffed. "Yeah? And why's that?"

You shrugged. "You're scary," You repeated," You scared off people I wasn't even dating. I don't want you to run off Kyra too. I love her."

Mini rolled her eyes and Kyra grabbed your hand again.

She was worried, you knew this but you'd had years of practice with Katrina to know when to stand your ground. To Katrina, you'd always been (and probably always would be) her immature little sister. You'd always had to stand your ground to get her to take you seriously.

She stared at you, eyes narrowing in an attempt to get you to submit to her will. You had to admit, ever since having Harper, Katrina had perfected the mum look - having practised on you for years.

You stared back, unwilling to even blink.

Kyra looked between you both, a chill running up her spine at the battle of wills you were locked into.

"Er..."

"If she hurts you, I'll kill her," Mini promised you. It seemed like a threat that was meant to go to Kyra but she said it to you instead.

You shrugged. "As if I'd let you find her."

"Good."

"Good."

You picked up your menu. "I'm thinking gammon."

Mini picked up her menu too. "Funny, I was leaning more towards the eggs."

Kyra sat there in shock as she stared, eyes wide. "Wait, is that it?"

You frowned. "Sorry, I should have asked. Kyra, what did you want? I assumed we were going to share. Did you want something else?"

Your words didn't solve Kyra's shock at all and she was left to scramble for what she wanted on the menu.

[withahappyrefrain]

I ALMOST MISSED THIS?!

“You’re a sweetheart” “Believe me, I’m really not” + Jake Seresin pls? 🥰

FE YES THIS IS SO HIM also would you like a little Jake and Venus AU? We got some language and sub!Jake here aka my favorite

Jake Seresin had a routine.

Step one, find who he wanted to talk to have for the night. Not someone who was clinging to the corner (they were for Bob), but also not the life of the party. He didn't like to share.

Step two, make eye contact. Sometimes Jake would be able to make it happen with the power of his lustful stare. Sometimes it meant playing pool at a different table or going up to the bar.

Tonight it meant going up to the bar, to order his drink loudly, ramping up his accent and 'yes m'am's to Penny. He didn't mind, he loved the spotlight.

Once eye contact was made, he could move on to step three. Bring her a drink.

He noticed she had ordered a gin and tonic at the bar. Jake practically strutted to her table, feeling confident that he would be walking out of here with the woman of the night in less than an hour.

"Howdy darlin'. I've always been told a lady should never have an empty glass. May I?" Jake pointed to her first drink, which was nearly empty.

She pursed her red painted lips together, looking Jake up and down, as if deciding whether he should be allowed to stay. At least, that's how Jake felt under her strong gaze. He tried not to falter, fighting the urge to close his free hand into a fist.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was seductive, dripping with honey like a trap to lure Jake in.

"Aren't you a sweetheart?" Her coy smile gave Jake the confidence to sit down at her table. Though, he couldn't help but chuckle at her words.

"Believe me doll, I'm really not," it was said with a wink as he handed her the drink.

"Oh, I think you are," she winked back, causing Jake's heart to skip a beat, "However, I'm not a doll."

"Then what shall I call you? I was also thinking Goddess," Jake smirked.

She playfully rolled her eyes, "Sorry to break it to ya, but you aren't the first to call me that. My name actually means Venus."

Venus. How fitting, with her full lips and big eyes and hair full of curls. Jake couldn't think of a better name. If she was Venus, he would be her Mars, her fiery, passionate lover.

Just for tonight.

"I'm Jake," he stuck his hand out. He was a gentleman, after all.

She hesitated, just long enough to see his large hand begin to tremble before taking it.

Her skin was soft, though her grip was firm. She never broke eye contact, holding her own. This woman, this goddess, was different, confident. Jake couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't out on the dance floor or talking to other pilots.

"So Venus, what brings you here? Other than faith," He asked with a charming smile.

"Work was hell and my coworkers kept saying I should go here to blow off some steam," she shrugged, "I'm just looking for a sweet man."

Jake leaned back in his chair. Her words didn't match her mischievous tone. And there was that word again, sweet.

Sweet was not what anyone had ever used to describe him. Hot, charming, driven, successful. But never sweet.

"Well Venus," he shrugged as he looked up at her, "I don't know if I can offer you that. But what I can offer is a night you'll never forget."

"Shouldn't sell yourself short, Lieutenant," she giggled before taking another sip of her cocktail, "But why don't we just see where the night takes us?"

Jake expected the night to end one of two ways; either on top of her or going home with someone else.

What he didn't expect was to be underneath her in his car, her manicured fingers stroking his cock as he whined into her neck.

"That's it," She encouraged, "You deserve it. Been so fucking sweet to me."

Jake groaned, not caring if the whole bar heard him. He continued mouthing at her breasts, not caring about the tank top she had on.

"Made me cum with your fingers, let me get off on your thigh," She admired the stain he now had on his khaki pants, "What will your teammates think Lieutenant?"

"Don't....Fuckin' care," Jake gritted between his teeth, hips jerking up towards her.

"I knew you were a sweetheart. Makes up for your ugly as sin car," Venus chuckled.

Jake didn't care about her comment on his car. Truth be told, he didn't care too much about whether he came or not.

Truth was, he was too busy thinking of what engagement ring to get his Venus.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Liar, Liar

Summary: When the reader catches Dean in a big lie, she questions what the hell is going with her husband...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, lying/angst, eventual fluff

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, standing over a frying pan, not glancing up when you wandered into the kitchen. “Dinner’s not ready yet.”

“I have writer’s block again,” you said, slumping into one of the barstools, resting your head on your arms.

“Quit for the day. You’re past working time anyways,” he said, holding up a spice shaker and sprinkling some in the pan.

“I wrote like half a page all day and it’s crap,” you said. “I think I’m all out of good ideas.”

“You better not be. I like being a trophy husband,” he teased.

“You are far from a trophy husband,” you said, lifting your head up, resting it in the palm of your hand. “You’re too smart for that.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said with a smirk. “I’m a genius, aren’t I?”

“Don’t push it, Einstein,” you said, Dean chuckling as he stirred the meat around. “Maybe I should quit and go back to an office job?”

“No way,” said Dean. “You were miserable.” 

“I’m miserable now,” you said, Dean chuckling again.

“You’re in a rough patch,” said Dean. “Plus now, you get to wear sweatpants all the time.”

“Sweatpants are pretty great,” you said, Dean humming in agreement. “But I think I really might be out of ideas Dean.”

“You need a vacation,” he said. “Recharge yourself.”

“But you have work this week,” you said, Dean shrugging. “I don’t deserve a vacation.”

“Have a Staycation then. Just don’t go in your office. It’s not like you need to request time off from the boss,” he said, carrying the pan over to a few plates. “Take a week off. I’m sure the ideas will come back.”

“Can I go to work with you?” you asked.

“With me? Why?” he asked, dishing up the food, letting it cool off to the side.

“Your job is interesting,” you said.

“I’m a tax lawyer. Yes, my life is just riveting,” he said.

“Maybe I need to write a story about a tax lawyer. Maybe a thriller or a murder,” you said.

“No,” he said, pushing a plate in front of you.

“Please? Like one hour on your lunch break?” You asked, Dean’s face scrunching up.

“I said no,” he said, grumpily taking a seat beside you, stabbing into his dinner.

“Alright. Sorry I asked.”

You waved Dean goodbye the next morning, watching him pull out of the driveway and down the street. You tried to take his advice and ignore your office, settling for watching TV instead but by eleven you were already antsy.

You decided to surprise him at work, bring him in a nice lunch with his favorite sandwich. You’d driven by the building his office was in before but the place was huge and you were more than a little lost when you got to the reception area.

“Hi, is Golden and Bash law firm on this side of the building or the other?” you asked, the receptionist pointing you down a hall and through a pair of double doors.

The lobby was quite grand and you had to hide your laugh that your Dean worked in a place like this.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk.

“Yeah, I’m here to see my husband. I brought him lunch,” you said, the woman offering a smile.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. What’s his name? I can call him up to the desk,” she said.

“Winchester,” you said.

“I didn’t know little Sam was married,” she said, standing up with a wave. “He’s right-“

“Sorry, I meant Dean Winchester,” you said with a wince. “Sam’s my brother in law.”

“Miss we only have one Winchester in employment here. Sam Winchester. He started on Monday,” she said.

“That’s some kind of mistake,” you said, the receptionist looking back at her computer.

“No, it’s not,” she said, your head shaking. 

“Can you take me to Sam? I need to speak to him. Now,” you said. She didn’t say another word as you followed her back to a small office, boxes all around.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” asked Sam. “Is something wrong?”

“Dean said he worked here,” you said quietly.

“What? No way. I just got this job and he definitely isn’t here,” said Sam. “He’s at Greenwich, isn’t he?”

“No. He said he got a new one here a month ago,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“He definitely doesn’t work here, Y/N,” said Sam.

“Then where has my husband been going all day, Sam? I know he gets a paycheck, insurance...what the hell is going on?” 

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “I have to finish up a couple things here but I’ll be over the house in an hour.”

“Thanks,” you said, tossing the sandwich in the trash. By the time you got home, the Impala was in the driveway, Dean wearing a big smile in the kitchen.

“Hey! I decided to come home for lunch,” said Dean, holding up a pair of wraps he must have picked up along the way.

“Really,” you said, Dean nodding his head.

“Super busy morning down there. Had to get out of there and see a friendly face,” he said.

“Busy at the firm?” You forced a fake smile, your blood boiling as he hummed.

“Oh yeah. You know how busy tax time of year is. Everyone freaking out,” said Dean.

“That’s interesting,” you said.

“What is?” asked Dean.

“Your super busy morning at the law firm...considering you don’t work at the law firm,” you growled. You saw Dean about to shake it off but he took one look at your face and knew he was screwed. 

“How long have you known?” he asked quietly.

“Oh I have plenty of questions and I think-“

“How long?” asked Dean, your eyebrows raising.

“About twenty minutes. Now how about-“

“Does anyone else know?” he asked. 

“Sam. Now-“

“I’m not a tax lawyer,” he said with a sigh, setting his wrap down on the plate. You scoffed, crossing your arms.

“No shit,” you said.

“I can’t tell you what I am,” said Dean. You cocked your head, Dean’s jaw clenching.

“Why the hell not?” 

“It’ll…scare you.”

“Try me,” you said, getting in his face, Dean taking a deep breath.

“I’m a professor,” he said. You shook your head, holding up your hands.

“Okay? Why is that such a big secret?” you asked. Dean looked away, grimacing.

“At a…private school,” he said.

“Still not understanding the secret part,” you said.

“It’s a unique school,” said Dean.

“Is it fucking Hogwarts?” You scoffed. “Tell me the truth.”

“It’s called Hunters,” said Dean. You grit your teeth. 

“You are this close to me walking out-“

“You want a divorce? Fine. Divorce me,” he said. You grabbed his shoulders, Dean’s gaze turning harsh.

“Dean, talk to me,” you said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve said all I can,” he said.

“You being a teacher doesn’t scare me so what exactly is it you do at this school,” you said.

“You will never ask me about it again,” he said. 

“Tell me the truth!” 

“Hey,” said Sam, walking in through the front door, both your heads turning towards him. “I took care of the secretary.”

“Good,” said Dean, Sam barely looking at you.

“You killed-“

“No, he didn’t kill her,” said Dean with a sigh. “Just made her forget. Just like how you’re going to forget real soon.”

“Dean,” said Sam. “We can’t keep doing this every time you slip up.”

“I’m not telling her,” said Dean, grabbing your arm, pulling you over to the couch. “Just help me with this.”

“Dean, I don’t really think we’re solving the problem here,” said Sam, Dean forcing you to sit down.

“Thirty minutes of her life gone, she’ll think she took a nap,” said Dean, swallowing hard when you stared up at him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Do I even know you at all?” you asked, Sam crossing his arms off to the side. “Who are you?”

“Dean, just tell her,” said Sam. “I’m tired of hiding this.”

“I am not telling her all that crap,” said Dean. “I’m not gonna lose her over this.”

“You’re losing me already,” you said, Dean rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell me the truth.”

“I can’t!” said Dean, stepping away. “I have to protect you.”

“Tell me,” you growled.

“Sam, give it to me,” said Dean, holding out a hand.

“I didn’t bring it,” said Sam.

“You what?” asked Dean, eyes blinking rapidly.

“Didn’t bring it. I’m tired of making her forget. She’s your wife. Stop lying to her,” said Sam.

“Sammy, considering I’m the one that volunteered for this, you don’t get a say,” said Dean.

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” said Sam.

“I know. But I have to live with it so I get to choose how,” said Dean.

“What about Y/N’s choice? Does she not get one of those?” asked Sam.

“Apparently not,” you said, Dean running his hands over his face. “You know what. Forget it. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me whatever this is, fine. Don’t expect me to be here when you get home from your fake job.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, catching your arm when you stood up. “I trust you. I need you to trust me right now. I am not doing this to hurt you. The exact opposite really.”

“Then trust me that I can handle whatever this is,” you said.

“I can’t take it back after this. You’ll know and if you leave, I won’t make you forget again. I can’t if I know that’s how you really feel,” he said.

“Dean, trust me,” you said. He closed his eyes.

“I teach at a special school...our grandparents taught there and people before them. Someone from the family line always has to teach there after a certain age...once they have experience,” said Dean.

“Experience in what,” you said, Dean barely meeting your eye.

“Hunting…monsters,” mumbled Dean.

“You hunt monsters,” you said.

“Hunted. I haven’t been in five years. Not since I started teaching,” said Dean. “That’s right around when I met you.”

“Is that why you keep a shotgun full of salt under the bed?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. 

“And the symbols on the subfloor when we put in the new hardwoods you said were just scratches,” you said, Dean nodding his head. “And the matching tattoo of yours you convinced me to get on my hip?”

“It means a demon can’t possess you,” said Dean. “I know, I’m nuts.”

“I think you were a dumbass for being scared to tell me but not nuts,” you said, Dean’s head snapping up. “You read my first book. The horror one that sold like two copies? Yeah, that might have happened to my dad for reals. At first I thought it was a scary story but he told me to be careful out in the world. So vampires are real, huh?”

“Yeah. A whole bunch of other stuff too,” said Dean quietly.

“Told you so,” said Sam, Dean ripping a pillow off the couch and chucking it at him. “If you’re not going to kill each other, I have to get back to work.”

“Are you really a lawyer?” you asked.

“Yeah. Dean kept me out of the family business so I wouldn’t have to deal with that stuff,” said Sam. “I’ll catch up with guys later.”

“So…” said Dean when it was just the two of you. “Are you still going to divorce me?”

“How many times did you make me forget?” you asked.

“Twice. I never gave you a chance to talk really before, just sort of did it as soon as you knew I lied,” he said. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you.”

“I would not advise lying to me again,” you said. “Or making me forget. Understand?”

“Yes,” he said. “You hate me though. For lying.”

“If I didn’t know you so well, I might. But I also know your head is twisted up with stuff I never pushed but hoped you knew you could come to me with. You beat yourself up enough. I don’t hate you. Be honest with me is all I ask,” you said.

“Okay,” said Dean, pausing a beat. “What do you want to know?”

_________

[kooktrash]

a little thing called jealousy | jeon jungkook drabble

ugh okay I’m sorry I tried making it a bit more of an argument but I just can’t give this couple angst 😭

anyway, 2.9k straight fluff. a little bit of jealous Koo and they’re both clingy af

READ STORY HERE

Jungkook will be the first to admit that this was really all his doing. His homebody girlfriend would have preferred to stay in tonight and he would’ve loved to join you but this was Hoseok. Your shared friend Hoseok was having people over and he begged and begged Jungkook to get you to come out. He wanted to have a fun night with his girlfriend too so of course he was going to beg you to come out, right?

Well… apparently he’s an idiot.

You’re having fun alright, you’ve been drinking a bit and he’s happily taken the liberty of being sober tonight so he could still drive home but unfortunately for him that meant he was very aware of the things happening around him. For instance, you talking to some guy who you apparently knew. Jungkook is not the jealous type, he’s never been because he’s never had a reason to be. It’s been known for a while now that he could get a girl if he wanted to and you’ve been the only one in his life to make him really work for it and for that he’s thankful. You helped him be able to fully explore what he felt toward you until it was all he could think about and now he’s obsessed with you. He’s not the jealous type…

“Where’s Y/n?” Sungha asked coming over to him after watching him sulk on Hobi’s couch like there weren’t at least thirty people around him getting drunk. Jungkook shrugged, “She’s talking to someone.”

“Who?” Sungha asked, looking around with a smile on her face, “Oh! That’s Jisoo, wow, I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

Jungkook turned his attention to her, “Wait, you know him too? Who is he?”

“Uh,” Sungha thought for a moment, “He’s Y/n’s ex but It’s been years since we last saw him. Last I heard he moved to Tokyo for some time, he must’ve just gotten back.”

“Y/n’s ex?” Jungkook asked looking back to you and you felt his stare, turning to him and giving him a soft smile that made Jisoo look at him too, “I thought all her ex boyfriends were shitty.”

“All but Jisoo,” Sungha shrugged, not noticing the way Jungkook’s leg began to bounce anxiously and his lip caught between his teeth, “But it was so long ago and we were all young so it makes sense that there’s no hard feelings there.”

“I’ll be back,” Jungkook said in a rush as he hopped off the couch and practically ran over to where you were.

Your breath hitched as firm arms wrapped around your waist pulling you flush against their back and for a second you couldn’t think of who it was. You’ve been drinking all night and when you get like that you tend to just talk and talk and forget everything else. It wasn’t until you felt Jungkook place small kisses along your neck that you smiled, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jungkook whispered into your eye as he kissed you one last time before looking at Jisoo, “I’ve been waiting for you to remember I was here too.”

Your brows seemed to furrow in confusion. You’ve only been away from him for at most five minutes. You had seen Jisoo from across Hobi’s apartment and you wanted to see how he was doing. You dated when you were 17 and it was so long ago and now you were both adults so clearly there were things to catch up on. It had been a mutual break up and since you were young it didn’t hold too much meaning so in truth you thought nothing of it.

“Jisoo this is Jungkook,” you introduced them to each other casually, Jungkook was busy kissing your neck lovingly for you to pay attention without squirming. You tried moving his hands off you because he was beginning to squeeze you a bit too much but he wouldn’t let up.

“Her boyfriend,” Jungkook clarified and you could hear the harshness in his tone. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good to meet you man,” Jisoo said missing the way Jungkook glared at him and he looked to you, “Alright, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Sungha or Jimin so I’m gonna go find them.”

“Yeah, go do that,” Jungkook said as you finally freed yourself from your boyfriend’s death grip. Jisoo’s brows scrunched together in confusion but he still smiled and waved you both goodbye.

“You having fun?” You asked him, slurring on your words a bit as you felt his hand go back to you waist not letting you get far from him without holding onto you. He shook his head no, “You ditched me.”

You laughed softly, still not processing how he was feeling in your drunken state, “I was just talking to Jisoo. I haven’t seen him in year—“

“Yeah and he’s your ex boyfriend that you ditched your current boyfriend to see,” Jungkook said following you down the hall toward the bathroom, stepping on the back of your shoe on accident.

You shook your head, “Yeah sorry, we ended up talking about his work so…”

You cut yourself off when you felt him step on your shoe once again but this time your foot actually lifted and it kind of hurt. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbled, “Can I go with you?”

“Where?” You asked before it dawned on you, “To the bathroom?” He nodded his head eagerly and you released a sigh, “Sure.”

You let him in and as you tried using the bathroom Jungkook distracted himself by rummaging through Hobi’s things. You hurried up to finish and you practically had to push him to the side to get to the sink. When you left, he was right there trying to hug you like you weren’t trying to walk and it was beginning to be a bit much. You were a little drunk and when you drink you tend to get hot and with him trying to hold you and step on you, you were starting to get a little annoyed. What was his deal?

He followed you into Hobi’s kitchen where you left in search of something to drink other than alcohol. Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you into him before you could even grab a drink, “Can we leave yet?”

“We just got here not that long ago,” you told him, feeling him begin to kiss along your neck again.

“Yeah but you’ve been ignoring me all night and I just want to lay in bed with my girlfriend an—“

“Jungkook!” You groaned when he accidentally pushed you too close to the counter in an attempt to follow you even if you didn’t move and made you hit your hip against the corner, “Ow!”

“Sorry,” he rushed out to say, hand down on your hip to try and soothe the pain but you were annoyed and drunk and hot.

You released a huff in annoyance, “Jeez, you’ve stepped on me and now you made me hit the counter, can you give me some space?”

“Y/n—“

“No, I’m starting to get annoyed,” you said pushing past him, “And I haven’t been ignoring you. I’ve been with you all night, I only left for like five minutes so stop being so clingy.”

Jungkook’s jaw couldn’t help but tense up at that as he looked down at you. You really did look annoyed and typically Jungkook would apologize and do what you asked but he felt annoyed too. How was he supposed to feel when you left him to talk to your ex boyfriend, “Fine, go do whatever you want then, I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Before you could say anything you watched him storm off angrily and just before you could get to him, Sungha and Jimin were calling you over. You walked over to them reluctantly, “Hey.”

“Hey, where’s Kook?” Jimin asked offering you another drink but you refused it. “I don’t know… he went to the car?”

“Why?”

“I think he’s ready to go, I’ll probably just say goodbye to Hobi and Jisoo and leave too,” you told them apologetically, “He’s acting weird, and I got a little mad at him.”

“Y/n… what happened?” Sungha asked making you shrug.

“I don’t know, he was fine earlier and then when I was talking to Jisoo he just came over and got super clingy and…” you paused in thought, “Oh…”

Sungha’s smile dropped, “Oops, that might’ve been my fault. I told him about Jisoo being your ex and he got up a little upset.”

“Sungha!” Jimin yelled, “They dated for a month when they were seventeen! Why would you tell him that?”

“I don’t know!” Sungha panicked, “I didn’t think it was a big deal. Jungkook never gets jealous!”

You released a huff, feeling exhausted and a little more sober now, “Alright, I’m gonna go talk to him, bye.”

You practically ran out to Jungkook’s car and when you found him inside he was slumped over his phone, pout evident on his face.

“Ready?” You asked him shyly, wondering how you could talk about it and if he really was upset. He didn’t give you a verbal response, only nodded his head as he started the car.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “I think I drank too much.”

Jungkook didn’t respond once again as he drove quietly, not even music playing and you felt the need to keep going, “Thank you for getting me to come out tonight. Next time I’ll drive and you can get drunk, alright?”

Jungkook just nodded as he drove. His feelings were very obviously hurt. He didn’t mean to step on you or making you hit the counter but he was anxious. The second he learned Jisoo was your ex he felt his anxiety shoot up and he just needed a little reassurance from you.

It’s just… it took him so long to get you to even think about him romantically. He put in so much work for the two of you to be where you are and he genuinely thinks he’s in love with you. He can’t help but feel hurt knowing your ex can come out of nowhere and have all your attention right away and if you’re still on good terms then who's to say there’s not still lingering feelings there? He doesn’t want to lose you when he just got you.

Tonight Jungkook was staying over at your place even if he was a little mad at how you yelled at him when he just wanted to be with you. Even mad he wanted to spend the night with you so obviously he was going to follow you.

“Koo,” you said softly as you followed him up to your own apartment. Jungkook waited quietly for you to unlock the door and you had to repeat yourself, “Are you hungry? Should I put a pizza in the oven?”

“If you want,” Jungkook shrugged as he threw himself on your couch sullenly. You released a small sigh, “Do you want water?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t mean to brush you off but he really was upset. Maybe he’s overthinking it but it really was hard to get you to like him back and he’s just worried… he doesn’t want you to realize that you could probably do better than him.

“Jungkook,” you used his full name now as you set the glass down on the coffee table and made him sit up. Without thinking you planted yourself on his neck but he couldn’t even look at you, “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“A little,” he admitted, not wanting to bottle this feeling up, “I didn’t mean to be too clingy but you yelled at me in front of everyone and… and you didn’t even introduce me to your ex as your boyfriend. It’s like you didn’t want him to know.”

You shook your head sadly, “No, it’s not like tha—“

“Then what is it, Y/n? You ditch me to talk to your ex boyfriend then get mad at me for wanting to be with you?” Jungkook felt a bit annoyed now, “Sometimes I still feel like I’m just a bother to you and you just can’t wait to get rid of me.”

“What?” You looked genuinely taken back as you turned to straddle his lap, his hands absentmindedly finding your waist even if he was mad, “No, baby, it’s not like that. I love being with you, I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap on you. I know you didn’t mean it, and I’m sorry for ditching you but Jisoo and I…”

Jisoo and I? Great… Jungkook thought, he felt his anxiety spike up and couldn’t help but move you off his lap, too distracted with you so close. You released a small sigh, “I mean, we only dated for a month. It was nothing serious, we tried to see where it would go but we were 17 and better off as friends. Him and I never meant anything.”

Jungkook was up, trying to find a way to distance himself so you wouldn’t see how hurt he was. Maybe he was being dramatic but what if now that you’re adults you want to try it again with Jisoo? What will happen to him if you do?

“Jungkook…” you whined as you hopped off the couch, surprising him by wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him from behind, “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there, I’m sorry.”

Jungkook took a deep breath, feeling his anger slowly dissipate but he needed to stay strong. You yelled at him and you were mean, it wasn’t fair.

He tried to talk but you only clung to him harder, “Kooky, look at me please.”

He took a deep breath, hand going over yours as you hugged him, “I’m upset.”

“I know,” you told him honestly as you moved to hug his front, feeling his arms slowly come up to your waist, “I’m sorry, I don’t want you thinking I want to be with anyone but you. I’m serious, I feel really bad.”

Jungkook huffed in defeat as his hand came up to the back of your head, “Are you going to yell at me like that again?”

“No!” You said feeling hopeful, looking up at him like he was the moon and stars, “I mean it. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“Mm,” he released a sigh as he thought about it, “Was I really being too much?”

“No! No,” you should your head, “No, I get it now. I was ignoring you and you just wanted to be with me but I got mad. No, I love when you get like that, it makes me feel wanted.”

“Of course I want you!” He said suddenly, “Baby, I’ve never felt that way before… I just felt scared that you would realize that you only began dating me because I basically pressured you to and seeing someone you used to have feelings for made you reali—“

“Jungkook, I love you.”

He froze, words getting caught in his throat, “You do?”

You nodded cutely, still hugging him tightly, “Of course I do, you’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met! And you’re so cute and funny and I want to be with you all the time even if I suck at showing it. I’m sorry for making you feel like I would leave you, that’s not right. I want to be with you and only you, nobody else, please don’t be mad at me. I don’t like it.”

Jungkook brushed your hair out of your face as he thought about it for a second, “I’m so in love with you, Y/n. So fucking in love that I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before and I don’t know how to respond to this new jealousy feeling.”

“I’m in love with you,” you repeated and this time around he felt his heart burst into millions of butterflies, “And I’m so sorry.”

“Ugh,” he huffed out, “I can’t be mad at you even if I tried.”

“But it’s okay if you are,” you told him honestly — and cutely that he had to smile — “I don’t blame you for getting mad if I’ve done something to upset you. Don’t feel like you always have to be happy with me and let me have my way.”

“Okay,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “But I love you too much to stay mad.”

“Koo!” You whined, stomping your foot a little as you tried to pull away, “You can’t always be happy with me—“

“I can’t help it,” he whined too, cheeks flushing red at how cute he thought you were, “I was just being dramatic.”

“No, you weren’t, I was in the wron—“ you ended with a small squeal as Jungkook picked you up.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Jungkook finally said, “For now let’s get to bed and let me cuddle you.”

“I’m sorry for earlier,” you said, legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, practically clinging to him, “Seriously.”

“I know,” Jungkook smiled, “And if you really want to make it up to me then you can get your cute butt in bed and go to sleep.”

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?” You asked with a small yawn as he made it into your room and set you down gently on your bed. He went ahead and closed the door, shutting you into darkness as he joined you, “No, baby, I love you too much to stay mad.”

“I love you more,” you said and you felt disgusted by your own cheesiness.

He smiled though, loving every second of it, “No, I love you more.”

“Not true.”

“Yes true.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No—“

“Yes! Now go to sleep.”

::.

ugh I just genuinely feel like they can’t stay mad at each other for long

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[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

More to Love | Sebastian Sallow x OC

listen we are all guilty of describing tall, model sebastian with a perfectly toned body and abs who is never insecure BUT NOBODY, AND I MEAN NOBODY, can rid of me of the headcannon that adult seb is a chunky man. nobody. you can tear it from my cold dead hands. have y'all seen solomon? beyond adolescence, sebastian does not have the genes for a fast metabolism, nor does sebastian possess self control against his vices (aka sweets). anyway this is a completely selfish indulgence. thick sebastian supremacy. that is all, tysm.

p.s. if anyone finds any fan art of this version of him i would literally go feral...

Words: ~5,400

Tags: Post Canon, Insecure Sebastian, Established Relationship, Romance, Fluff, Implied Smut, Size Kink(? I mean like I guess but I feel like we should just be appreciating all bodies ?)

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of their cozy cottage, casting a warm golden glow over the kitchen. The faint, sugary scent of last night’s baking still lingered in the air—Evangeline’s attempt at perfecting a new cookie recipe. Sebastian remembered how she had glared at a plate of the so-called failures, muttering something about them being “too dry." Sebastian had happily devoured them, brushing off her perfectionist grumbles with a wink and a mouthful of cookies.

Now, the house was quiet, save for the occasional chirping of birds outside. Evangeline had already left for the market, a wicker basket in hand and a determined spring in her step. She’d kissed him on the forehead before leaving, murmuring something about getting the perfect flour for a sourdough recipe she’d been researching all week. He could still hear the echo of her soft laughter as she disappeared out the door.

Sebastian stretched, his muscles aching faintly in that satisfying way that came from a week filled with physical work. Being an Auror meant he was constantly on the move—tracking leads, chasing dark wizards, and, more often than he liked, dealing with paperwork that made him question all his life choices. But spring Saturdays like this, when he didn’t have to be anywhere but home, were his favorite.

He yawned and shuffled out of bed, raking a hand through his disheveled hair as he made his way to the wardrobe. Spring had finally settled in, bringing mild, sunny weather that called for something lighter than his usual layers. His hand landed on a familiar flannel shirt, one of his favorites. It was soft from years of wear, its faded green pattern perfect for the season.

Smiling faintly, he shrugged it over his shoulders and reached for the buttons—only to stop short when the fabric pulled taut across his shoulders and chest.

Frowning, he tugged harder, but the shirt refused to cooperate.

“What the…?” he muttered, stepping back toward the mirror.

Sebastian frowned deeper as he studied himself, his hands resting on his hips. The reflection was still undeniably his, but as his eyes trailed over his freckled skin, mapping the same familiar constellations he’d had for years, he realized the framework beneath had shifted in ways he hadn’t realized.

He rolled his shoulders experimentally, watching the way the muscle there still moved, still held its strength. Yet the sharp edges of his collarbones and the cut of his shoulders weren’t as defined as they used to be.

Turning slightly, he ran a hand down his chest, his fingers brushing over the faint dusting of hair. His pecs were still firm, still solid beneath his touch, but there was give there now, a softness that made his jaw tighten. He pressed lightly, testing the subtle give in his chest, before his hand drifted lower, skimming over the newfound curve of his stomach. His fingers prodded experimentally at the softness, sinking slightly into the layer of flesh, and he let out a quiet, frustrated huff. The firmness of his abs was still there—he reassured himself of that much—but they were now buried beneath the gentle padding that had crept in without him noticing.

In response, he straightened his posture, tightening his core instinctively as though to pull it all back in. The mirror reflected the faint impression of his old shape, but as soon as he relaxed, the softer curve returned.

Sebastian sighed in frustration, raking a hand through his messy hair. His fingers lingered at his jawline, as though suddenly aware of it, and his thumb brushed along the edge. Even that felt different—less angular than he remembered, the sharpness subtly softened, apparently, by one too many of Evangeline's cookies.

He turned back to face the mirror head-on, his fingers curling into his sides as he tried to reconcile the man in the reflection with the one he thought he’d been. The man Evangeline married had been sharp and lean, all hard edges and restless energy. Now, he looked... well, not like that.

Sebastian shrugged off the flannel and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, staring down at the worn rug beneath his feet. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and the movement made him acutely aware of a sensation he hadn't noticed before: a fold of flesh creasing above his waistband.

His hand hovered over it for a moment before he pressed his palm flat against his stomach, as if to confirm what he already knew.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing deeper.

His mind began to spiral, his thoughts moving too fast for him to catch hold of any one of them. How long had this been happening? Why hadn’t he noticed sooner? And worse—what did she think?

Evangeline saw him every day. She touched him, kissed him, curled up against him at night. She must have noticed. How could she not?

He thought about the way she looked at him—the warmth in her hazel eyes, the teasing curve of her lips. She’d always been affectionate, always quick to rest her head on his shoulder or slide her hand around his waist. But now that he really thought about it, was that affection the same as it had always been?

Or had it changed?

Sebastian’s mind raced through their recent interactions, searching for signs that Evangeline might have been... humoring him. Was she still as playful as she used to be? Did her hands linger on him the way they used to, or had she started pulling away without him noticing?

And what about the times when they weren’t just sitting on the couch or cooking together? What about the moments when they were truly alone, when her touch was softer and her voice was breathless?

The soft creak of the front door opening startled him out of his reverie. He heard the familiar rustle of her skirts and the gentle thud of her basket being placed on the kitchen table.

“Sebastian?” Evangeline’s voice called out, light and cheerful as ever. “I’m back! They had the flour I needed—oh, and I found those dried cherries you like!”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. He stood, throwing on a plain linen shirt that still fit well enough, though he couldn’t help but feel hyperaware of how it clung just slightly more than he remembered. He made his way to the kitchen, forcing a casual smile as he leaned in the doorway to watch her unpack.

Evangeline was a vision, as always. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, slightly windswept from the walk back. She wore one of her simple spring dresses, the fabric hugging her curves in a way that always made his stomach flip. Her cheeks were pink from the breeze, and her eyes lit up when she spotted him.

“There you are,” she said warmly, walking over to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re up late. I thought you’d already be in the garden or reading by now.”

He shrugged, his smile faltering slightly. “Just... taking my time this morning.”

Evangeline tilted her head, studying him the way only she could. She had a knack for sensing when something was wrong, even when he tried to hide it. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, stepping past her to lean against the counter. He busied himself inspecting the contents of her basket—flour, herbs, fresh berries—anything to avoid her gaze. But Evangeline wasn’t one to let things go so easily.

��Sebastian,” she said softly, moving to stand beside him. “What’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing—I know you too well.”

Sebastian hesitated, the weight of her gaze pressing on him as she waited for an answer. His jaw tensed, the words tangled in his throat. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to seem ridiculous, but Evangeline’s gaze was so steady, so full of gentle concern, that it made it nearly impossible to brush her off entirely.

So he did the next best thing—he distracted her.

With a soft hum, he stepped forward, closing the small gap between them. Before she could press him further, his arms slipped around her waist, pulling her snug against him. His head dipped to the crook of her shoulder, his nose brushing against her neck in a way that made her breath hitch.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice soft but curious. “What are you—?”

He nuzzled closer, his lips grazing her skin, and she immediately burst into laughter, her hands coming up to push lightly at his chest. “Stop that!” she giggled, squirming against him. “You know that tickles!”

“Do I?” he murmured innocently, his voice muffled against her skin. He pressed a light, teasing kiss just below her ear, which made her laugh harder.

“Yes, you do!” she managed through her laughter, twisting in his hold. She turned her head, her face still alight with amusement, and gently flicked his shoulder. "Release me!"

Sebastian grinned and nuzzled into her neck again, his voice low and teasing. “Not a chance."

Evangeline squirmed more, her laughter bubbling out in a way that always made his chest feel lighter. “Sebastian!” she giggled, half-protesting, half-delighted. “I mean it! Let me go before I—”

“Before you what?” he interrupted. “I don’t scare easily, love. You know that.”

Evangeline huffed and flicked his ear this time. “Before I refuse to share the bread with you, that’s what!”

Sebastian gasped, feigning shock as he finally released her. “Now, now, let’s not say things we can’t take back.”

Evangeline turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she adjusted her skirts. “Then behave yourself,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in a way that wasn’t remotely threatening.

Sebastian chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the counter, watching her return to unpacking her basket.

“Goodness me,” she said, rolling up her sleeves with purpose. “I’ve been waiting all week to try this recipe and the minute I try, you attack me. Are you going to help to make up for it, or are you just going to stand there being smug?”

Sebastian chuckled. “I suppose I can be convinced,” he said, moving to her side as she began gathering the rest of the tools she’d need.

For the next hour, the kitchen was filled with the quiet hum of their voices, the occasional clatter of mixing bowls, and Evangeline’s soft laughter.

Sebastian found himself relaxing, the familiar rhythm of their routine soothing the restless energy that had been gnawing at him earlier. He teased her gently when she smudged flour on her cheek, earning a playful swat in return, and when she handed him the dough to knead, she watched with an amused grin as he muttered about how much effort it took.

"Thought you were supposed to be a big, strong Auror, Sallow," she quipped, her lips twitching with amusement as she leaned against the counter, watching him wrestle with the dough.

“I am a big, strong Auror,” Sebastian shot back, narrowing his eyes at her. “This stuff is just... deceptively difficult. And sticky. Are you sure this is how it’s supposed to feel?”

Evangeline laughed, the sound light and musical as she stepped closer, her hands lightly dusted with flour. “You’re doing fine,” she reassured him, slipping in beside him. “But here—let me show you.”

She reached out, her smaller hands folding over his to guide his movements. The closeness made Sebastian pause, his earlier insecurities threatening to resurface as her warmth seeped into him. He glanced down at her, the way her long lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks, her eyes focused intently on the dough. She looked so at ease, so utterly content, and it twisted something in his chest.

“See?” she said softly, her voice breaking through his thoughts. “Gentle pressure. You don’t have to fight it, Sebastian. It’s not a dark wizard.”

Sebastian let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head as Evangeline’s hands guided his own, working the dough until it was smooth and elastic.

When they were finally done, Evangeline patted it into a neat ball and placed it into a bowl to proof, covering it with a clean cloth. “There,” she said, brushing her hands off on her apron.

Sebastian stepped back, wiping his flour-dusted hands on a towel. “So, what now, boss?” he asked, his tone playful.

Evangeline grinned, tilting her head toward the door. “You, my dear husband, are going to go sit on the porch and enjoy the sun while I tidy up. I’ll bring lunch out in a bit.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I can help clean—”

“Nope,” she interrupted, shooing him toward the door with a wave of her hand. “Go. Relax. You’ve earned it after that battle with the dough.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, if you say so,"

With a glass of lemonade in hand, Sebastian made his way to the porch. The gentle warmth of the spring sun greeted him as he stepped outside, the wooden boards creaking softly beneath his feet. He sank into one of the chairs, letting out a contented sigh as he leaned back.

The village stretched out before him, quiet and serene, with the distant hum of life carrying on beyond their little corner of the world. The sun’s rays warmed his skin, the light breeze ruffling his hair. He took a sip of the lemonade, the tart sweetness refreshing as he let himself sink into the moment, his earlier insecurities and worries far away now, dulled by the laughter and warmth Evangeline always brought with her.

He was so lost in the peace that he didn’t hear her approach until she appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray with two plates and the pitcher of lemonade.

“Lunch is served,” she announced cheerfully, stepping out onto the porch.

Sebastian sat up as she set the tray down on the small table between them, his eyes flicking to his plate: a neatly arranged sandwich, a small side of crisps, and, of course, three cookies nestled together like a tempting afterthought. He masked a frown, the sight of them stirring the same pang of self-consciousness he’d been trying to forget all morning. So much for putting his extra fluff out of his mind—it was staring back at him in the form of three perfectly golden, innocent-looking biscuits.

Still, he didn’t say anything, brushing the thought aside as he focused on enjoying lunch with Evangeline. The sandwich was delicious, the crisp, fresh lettuce and savory meats hitting the spot as they chatted easily about her market trip and his plans to tend to the garden later.

When Evangeline finished her plate, she leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh, the light breeze catching her hair and carrying the faint scent of flour and sugar. Sebastian moved to gather their plates, standing to take them inside, but paused when Evangeline frowned, her gaze dropping to his untouched cookies.

“Are they that bad?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she leaned forward to inspect them. “I thought they turned out alright this time.”

Sebastian froze, feeling her question land with a weight he wasn’t ready to address. He hesitated for a fraction too long before shaking his head, mustering a smile. “No, not at all. They’re great. I’m just... not in the mood for something sweet right now.”

Evangeline’s frown deepened, hazel eyes narrowing as she tilted her head. “Not in the mood?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “Sebastian, you’ve never turned down cookies. Not once. Not even when you had the flu.”

“I just... figured I’d save them for later,” he said quickly, avoiding her gaze as he balanced their plates on one arm. “Don’t want to ruin my appetite for dinner.”

That earned a soft laugh from her. “Dinner’s hours away, and we both know you could eat a Hippogriff and still have room for dessert.

Sebastian forced one of his trademark grins, the kind he knew could distract her from just about anything. “I promise I’ll eat them later,” he said, his tone light as he grabbed the empty plates and moved to the door. “No need to worry, love.”

But he should have known better. Evangeline was many things—kind, brilliant, a phenomenal baker—but above all else, she was stubborn.

“Sebastian,” she called after him, her voice sharp enough to stop him mid-step as he crossed the threshold back into the kitchen.

He sighed, shoulders sinking slightly as he turned to face her. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

“What?” he asked, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Evangeline huffed and stepped forward, plucked the plates from his hands with a deftness that left him blinking, and set them firmly on the counter.

“Alright,” she said, turning back to him and crossing her arms. Her gaze pinned him in place, sharp and unyielding. “Spill. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” he replied quickly, too quickly. He reached up, scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit she knew all too well. “I just told you—I’m not in the mood for something sweet right now. That’s all.”

“Sebastian.” Her voice softened, but the determination in her expression didn’t waver. She stepped closer, her hands uncrossing to rest lightly on her hips. “You can’t lie to me, you know that."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as his gaze flicked away. He wanted to brush her off, to dodge her questions and let the moment pass. But the way she looked at him—so patient, so steady—made it impossible.

He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “It’s just… earlier, I tried on that green flannel shirt—the one you like—and it didn’t fit. It was too small."

Evangeline frowned, her brows knitting together. “So? Clothes shrink, Sebastian. Especially when someone—” she gestured pointedly at him “—refuses to follow proper washing instructions.”

He huffed a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It didn’t shrink,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely at himself. “It's me, Evie. I looked in the mirror, and I realized I’ve… gone all soft. I mean, look at me.” He motioned to his chest and stomach, his voice tinged with frustration.

Evangeline blinked at him, her expression shifting into something softer—warmer, with a teasing glint in her eyes that Sebastian immediately recognized. She stepped closer, her hand sliding from his arm to rest lightly against his chest, her lips curving into a small, amused smile.

“I do look at you,” she said softly. “I look at you all the time, Sebastian. And quite often, without clothes in the way.”

His ears burned instantly, a deep flush spreading across his face and down his neck. “Evie, please,” he groaned.

“What?” she asked innocently. “You act like I don’t see you—really see you—all the time. You’re my husband, silly.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he avoided her gaze.

Evangeline tilted her head, her lips twitching with barely contained amusement. “What exactly do you want me to say, Sebastian? Do you want me to say ‘Oh, darling, I’ve noticed you’ve gotten a bit squishier lately, but don’t worry—I still love you?’ Because that’s ridiculous.”

“So you have noticed then,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He crossed his arms, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze. “And you just didn’t tell me?”

Evangeline blinked at him again before laughing outright—a soft, melodic sound that filled the kitchen. “You’re unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head. “Sebastian, I didn’t say anything because there’s nothing to say! You’re acting like this is some monumental change when it’s not!

“It feels like it, is” he muttered, his arms dropping to his sides. “I’ve let myself go, Evangeline. And you’re just—what? Too nice to admit it?”

Her laughter faded, her brow furrowing slightly. “Too nice to admit it?” she repeated, her voice soft but incredulous. “Sebastian, do you really think I’d lie to you about something like this?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Not lie,” he admitted quietly. “But maybe… spare my feelings.”

Evangeline sighed, her expression softening as she reached up to cradle his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. "Listen to me. I’m not sparing your feelings. I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will."

He sighed, his hands coming up to loosely grip her wrists as her fingers remained warm against his skin. “But you’re not blind, Evie. This is... this is not the version of me you married."

Evangeline scoffed. “Do you really think the reason I married you had anything to do with how sharp your jawline was?”

“I mean... maybe not completely,” he muttered, his voice trailing off as his ears turned pink. “But it didn’t hurt.”

She sighed, a sound heavy with both exasperation and affection. She tilted her head back slightly, studying his stubborn expression. Clearly, her reassurances weren’t enough to break through that thick skull of his. If soft words and patience weren’t going to work, it was time to switch tactics.

Her gaze darkened slightly, a mischievous glint sparking to life as her lips curled into a sly grin. She slid her hands from his face to rest on his shoulders, her fingers trailing down to the broad expanse of his chest.

“Alright,” she murmured, her tone dropping into something low and silky. “You want me to be honest? I’ll be honest.���

Sebastian blinked, momentarily startled by the shift in her demeanor. “What are you—”

She cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. “Hush. You’ve been doing a lot of talking. It’s my turn now.”

He swallowed hard, his ears burning as she stepped even closer, her body brushing against his, and tipped her head to look up at him through her lashes.

“Of course I’ve noticed the changes. How could I not? But Merlin help me, I love you like this,” she said, her voice smooth and steady, each word punctuated with intent. “Do you know why?”

He shook his head, utterly at a loss for words, his hands falling to rest uncertainly on her waist.

“Because,” she continued, “It tells me that you’re happy and comfortable and loved and well-fed—all the things you should be when you’re with someone who loves you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

His throat tightened and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. “Evie...” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

“I love you with all my heart, and yes, I love the way you look,” her voice was soft but steady, her hazel eyes locked onto his. Her hands trailed down to rest against his chest, her fingertips brushing over the slight softness he’d been agonizing over. “You're the most incredible man I’ve ever met. You’ve got these strong arms I adore, shoulders that make me weak in the knees, and those deliciously thick thighs I can't get enough of. And now there's just more of you for me to love."

Sebastian’s face burned a deeper shade of crimson, his ears hot with embarrassment. “Evie,” he mumbled, his voice caught between a groan and a laugh.

"Sebastian," she said firmly, gripping at his shirt now. "You have always been handsome, but now? Now you’re downright dangerous.” Her hand moved to his stomach, giving it a light pat.

Sebastian stared at her, completely floored. Her words hung in the air between them, weaving through his spiraling thoughts and silencing them one by one. The heat from his ears had spread down to his chest now, but the lingering twinges of doubt started to fade, smothered by the mischievous glint in her eyes and the way her hands lingered on him like he was the only man in the world.

“Dangerous, am I?” he murmured, his voice low, his lips twitching into something dangerously close to a smirk.

Evangeline’s grin widened, a spark of triumph lighting her expression. “Oh, absolutely,” she said, her fingers curling into his shirt as she tugged him closer. “You’re entirely too good-looking for your own good—and mine.”

Sebastian’s lips twitched, but as her words settled over him, something stirred in the back of his mind. Hang on a minute...

He replayed moment after moment from the past few months. The way her hands lingered just a bit longer when they curled up on the couch together. How she’d started sneaking up behind him in the mornings just to wrap her arms around his waist. How she’d tug him back into bed, her lips pressed against his neck as she muttered some excuse about not wanting to let him go yet.

She had been insatiable—more so than usual.

He’d chalked it up to the honeymoon phase lingering well past its expiration date, or maybe the warmer weather putting her in an unusually good mood. But now? Now, standing here with her hands sliding over him like she wanted to memorize every inch of his body, it all clicked.

His lips curled into a slow, wolfish grin, the confidence that had been knocked loose earlier returning in full force. “You have been extra fond of me lately, huh?” he teased, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that always made her cheeks flush.

Evangeline arched an eyebrow, unbothered by his sudden shift in demeanor. “Maybe,” she replied coyly.

Sebastian chuckled, the sound deep and rich as his hands moved to her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I suppose I should’ve known,” he murmured, his eyes roaming her face before locking onto hers. “All those extra little touches, the way you’ve been looking at me... You’re absolutely relentless, you know that?”

“And you’re just figuring this out now?” she teased, her smirk widening.

He shook his head, his grin growing wider as he tilted her chin up with one hand, his thumb brushing over her jawline. “I don’t think I’m the dangerous one here, Evie. You’ve been plotting this, haven’t you?”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and unrepentant. “I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his grin never faltering. “Oh, you definitely know what I’m talking about,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, sending a shiver down her spine. “You’ve been playing the long game, haven’t you? Buttering me up—literally and figuratively—until I couldn’t resist you.”

Evangeline’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but her smirk didn’t waver. “If by ‘buttering you up’ you mean showing my husband how much I love him, then yes, guilty as charged,” she replied, tilting her head smugly. “And judging by the way you’ve been letting me drag you back to bed at all hours, I’d say you haven’t exactly been resisting.”

Sebastian laughed, the sound low and full of warmth as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “I don’t think anyone could resist you, Evie."

Evangeline laughed, her hands tangling in his hair as she gazed up at him. “Good,” she said, her tone light and playful. “I’d hate to think I was losing my touch.”

Sebastian smirked, his hands settling on her hips as he tilted his head down, their foreheads almost touching. “Losing your touch? Not possible,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “If anything, you’ve only gotten better at wrapping me around your finger.”

She grinned, leaning in to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling back. “Exactly as planned,” she quipped, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest again. Her expression softened as her thumbs brushed over the fabric of his shirt. “But seriously, Sebastian, as much as I love you like this—and I do—if it really does bother you, if you really want to change something, just tell me.” Her lips curled into a small, teasing smile as she added, “I can always go a little easier on you, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning wry. “Go easier on me? What does that even mean?”

Evangeline laughed again, her fingers toying with the edge of his shirt. “It means I won’t bake as many pastries,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Or at least I’ll stop making so many batches of your favorites.

Sebastian scoffed, though his lips twitched with amusement. “You make it sound like I have no self-control,” he said, his tone laced with indignation.

Evangeline arched an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want me to list the number of times I’ve caught you sneaking into the kitchen at midnight? Because I’ve been keeping track, and let’s just say the numbers don’t lie.”

His ears flushed pink, but he shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Midnight snacks are perfectly reasonable. I’m a growing man, after all.”

“Growing where, exactly?” she teased, her grin widening as she tapped a finger lightly against his stomach.

He groaned, though a laugh escaped him despite himself. “You’re merciless,” he muttered.

“Only because I love you,” she replied, her tone softening as she slid her hands back up to his chest. “But seriously, Sebastian, we’ll figure it out. After all, we can’t have you ruining all your shirts, can we?"

Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shook his head. “Merlin forbid I ruin all my shirts,” he said, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “What would I even wear then?”

“Oh, I’m sure we could come up with something,” Evangeline replied, her grin widening as she tugged playfully at the hem of his shirt. “Or nothing at all. That’s always an option.”

Sebastian's grin turned positively wolfish. “Nothing at all, huh?” he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that made Evangeline’s cheeks flush. He took a small step closer, effectively pinning her between him and the counter. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Evangeline tilted her head, pretending to consider it. "We would have to give it a try first... for science."

"No time like the present," he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m fully committed to advancing scientific discovery, after all.”

Evangeline laughed softly, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “Well, I’d hate to stand in the way of progress,” she teased, looking up at him through her lashes. “Who am I to deny such noble pursuits?”

Sebastian’s grin widened. “That’s the spirit,” he murmured. “Let’s not waste a single moment, then.”

Before she could respond, his arms slipped under her, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Evangeline let out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, her laughter vibrating against him. The sound alone was enough to make his chest swell with affection, and the way she leaned into him, utterly unguarded, set his pulse pounding.

Evangeline’s lips brushed against the shell of his ear as he carried her toward the bedroom, her voice a teasing murmur that made his blood hum. She didn’t hold back—her words playful, wicked, and laced with affection. Every syllable sent heat pooling low in his stomach, her tone the perfect mix of mischief and adoration.

The bread, meanwhile, sat forgotten on the counter, the plans for the afternoon abandoned, and the lingering doubts that had gnawed at him all morning slipped away, irrelevant in the face of the one truth that mattered most: Evangeline adored him, every inch of him.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

“Perhaps that was another part of your planned… entrapment.”

Colin Bridgerton could live to be eight-and-ninety, and those words would forever be the nine he was most ashamed of. He had not known a moment’s peace since uttering them, his bones heavy with grief and regret as the words circled his memory, again, and again, and again.

Worse still had been Penelope’s response — soft and unbearably genuine; watery and honest. “I did not mean to entrap you, Colin. I love you.”

I love you.

He held onto that part of the memory fiercely, mind focused on her singular mercy, the use of present tense — love, not loved — fervently hoping it would drown out the rest. That it would make him forget the feel of her fingers, warm against his own, slipping the frigid metal of her betrothal ring back into his palm; forget the way he felt his heart split in two immediately, the crisp sound of its cracking masked only by the angry clack of his boots as he stormed after her, livid and ludicrously in love, because how very dare she?

How dare she think to leave him, as though that were even a possibility for two people whose souls were so deeply intertwined?

He said as much, though admittedly, not quite as well.

“Penelope,” he whispered the warning into her hair as he caught up to her at the bottom of the staircase. His fingers curled around her elbow, just firm enough to keep her in place. Gently, he spun her to face him, and implored seriously, “you cannot leave.”

Me, was what he meant. You cannot leave me.

Even the thought of it made the air leave his lungs, so he pushed it away, and chose instead to say, “the banns have been read.”

She scoffed in a way that was so easy, he felt another shard of his heart come loose. “As though we are the first pair to ever call off a wedding. Was not Miss Edwina already at the head of the altar? If anything, we are conscientiously early in our decision.”

‘Our decision’. Of all the insults. As if Colin would ever permit such foolish thinking as this, let alone contribute to it.

He narrowed his eyes at this sudden display of hardness he did not recognize in her. “We have been intimate,” he reminded her then — determined that she understand just exactly how inevitable they were.

He had uttered the very same excuse not five minutes prior, and yet this time, instead of her earlier sweet sorrow, he was met with a startling flash of anger, the blue of her eyes thunderous.

“No one need know that if you would only stop repeating it,” she hissed, quiet and angry. “Or are you to tell me you will stupidly aid in your own entrapment,” the word fell from her tongue like arsenic, heavy and poisoned, “by announcing it over and over until we are caught?”

It was infuriating how truly clever she was.

No matter, he was clever, too. Her soul’s perfect match.

“And if you are with child?” He snapped.

She rolled her eyes at him, derisive laughter in her tone. “My courses have come and gone, Mr. Bridgerton, you need not worry.” Somehow, her words left him stricken, a sharp pang of something akin to disappointment hitting him squarely in the chest. She, however, was unmoved, her expression as fiery as the auburn of her hair. “It seems even my body has graciously decided to relieve you of your most honorable duty.”

It was scathing and deserved, and yet all Colin could say in return was what he hoped was true, “You lie.”

“I do not,” she said simply, a near murderous smile playing at her lips now. “Or maybe I do,” she shrugged, unbothered. “It is not as if you can lift my skirts in an attempt to ascertain the truth.”

It was all he could do not to gape at her, his beautiful, sweet, gently-bred betrothed — for she was his betrothed still, make no mistake — speaking in such a manner to him.

“Penelope,” he chastised harshly.

“Miss Featherington,” she corrected, tone sharp as she tipped her chin up towards him, eyes stony.

It was the final straw. Colin had never been so angry, and so desperately in love. His fingers fell from her elbow to her wrist, and he yanked it towards him much less gently than he should have, before slipping the ring back onto her finger with the kind of finality that brooked no more argument. He watched as it found its rightful place again, before announcing, irrefutably, “Mrs. Bridgerton.”

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 6

Part 5

Come for the sugar daddy fantasy stay for my everybody-loves-steve agenda

Eddie insisted on helping Steve with his suit the night of the soiree. Steve allowed him into his apartment for the first time, after some extensive cleaning. Eddie was already dressed in his suit, red, no shirt underneath. He took the garment bag from Eddie, kissed his lips, and then went to his bedroom. Eddie got a glimpse of his nest before the door was shut.

"Uhh? Baby?"

"No peeking", Steve said from behind the door.

"Babyyyy", Eddie whined, pressing his face to the wood.

Steve grinned to himself as he listened, getting dressed on his own anyway. "I don't want to be late. And if I let you 'help' that's exactly what will happen."

It wasn't just what Eddie would do. It was what Steve would let him get away with. It would be very easy to let Eddie in and then tumble in his nest. The thought of letting Eddie's scent mix in... Steve wondered if he could get away with sneaking a piece of his clothing away. But Eddie had promised him a fun night out and said he'd be meeting his bandmates as well.

He finished getting dressed and came out. Eddie stumbled, being nearly glued to the door. Steve almost made a joke about falling for him.

"You gonna be this attached to me all night?", he asked instead.

Eddie righted himself and stood up straight. "If I let you out of my sight, the wolves will descend on you Lil Red."

Steve put his hands on Eddie's chest and leaned in. "Good thing I've got a big, strong woodsman to keep me safe~"

Since it was a band event, Eddie had a personal driver this time. That meant he could sit in the backseat and play with Steve the whole way. Eddie's hand was firm on Steve's thigh while the other held his hip. He'd wanted to bury them in Steve's tresses but one firm tap and reprimand 'don't touch the hair' and here they were.

Eddie was nibbling on Steve's neck, wishing he could put something more permanent on him. Let others know who he belonged to. When they arrived, Steve took a moment to get himself together. Eddie thought he looked just as radiant now as he did with sex-tousled hair but he liked seeing his baby primp too.

Eddie led him, arm in arm, into a nightclub. The music was energetic but didn't really seem to fit with Eddie's usual metal scene. Steve had done some research on the band, listened to a few songs, learned the other members names too. So even through the blaring music, he was able to understand when Eddie brought them over to a reserved table where the rest of them awaited.

"So this is the guy?", Jeff asked.

"This must be the guy", Gareth nodded.

"Can't be anyone else but the guy", Grant raised his glass to Steve.

Steve smiled at Eddie. "You've been telling them about me?"

"You're a secret I don't wanna keep, babydoll", Eddie smiled back.

"DJ here is mixing a set around one of our albums", Jeff said. "Kind of a little promotion for us. And when we share the video, he'll get a bump too."

"I thought this was a little out of the box for your sound", Steve said.

"You listen to our music?", Eddie asked.

Steve shrugged, playing it off. "I've dabbled." He leaned into Eddie's space to take a sip from the drink in his hand. "What about you? Do you dabble in this?"

"Not quite my scene, no. I'm an appreciator of most genres though."

"Can we finally break the silence on Eddie's jazz phase?", Gareth said.

"What's wrong with jazz?", Steve asked.

"Music was fine", Grant clarified, "He just got super pretentious about the different subgenres."

"He was insufferable", Gareth added.

"What about you guys, then?", Steve pointed the question to them. "Are you into this kind of music?"

"It's something to dance to", Jeff replied.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Care to dance?", Steve asked.

Jeff gave a look to Eddie, asking permission. Amused, Steve also looked to Eddie for his response. Eddie's arm had been wrapped rather possessively around him for most of the night, so he could feel how antsy Steve was getting. Eddie gave his hip a pat.

"Go have fun."

Steve kissed his cheek and then went down to the dance floor with Jeff. He loved to move and he'd been itching to dance all night, but Eddie didn't seem like a dancer, at least not to this kind of music. And he wasn't about to just go out and dance with someone random in the club. Jeff was the perfect partner, knowing when to be close and when to give him space.

He felt a finger tap his shoulder and when he turned, Grant was there. Following the beat of the music, Steve gave him his attention. He was able to catch Eddie's eyes just once and saw the hunger in his eyes. When Gareth came to dance, he was a little more hesitant to touch Steve until Steve himself pulled Gareth's hands to him.

The way they all touched him was polite but there was an underlying desire. They were showing appreciation, but they weren't going to challenge the pseudo-claim Eddie had on him. He caught Eddie's gaze again and it was darker this time. He began to walk off the dance floor, ignoring a few calls from voices he didn't recognize.

Steve returned to Eddie and straddled his lap. "Sure I can't tempt you to dance?"

"There's not a thing you can't tempt me into, sweetheart. But you'll have to give me something dance-able. Liked seein' you have fun though. My boys take care of you?"

"Mhm, they were very gentlemanly." Steve's hand dipped under Eddie's suit jacket, needing skin to skin contact.

"Music to my ears", Eddie said against Steve's lips before meeting them. He growled against his mouth as he was able to detect the scents of his friends on him. Steve was pack. Steve was his.

Eddie practically dragged him out of the club and back into the car. The door was barely closed before Steve was in his lap again. He was writhing, probably very close to ruining the nice suit pants.

"Come with me", Eddie breathed.

"Yes, Daddy", Steve moaned into his ear.

"No I mean, on tour. Come with me on tour baby."

Steve paused in his humping to look in Eddie's eyes. "You want me along for the ride?"

Eddie nodded, eyes wide and big as if there was ever a chance that Steve would say no. But he also couldn't just say yes.

"For how long?"

Eddie licked his lips. "Two months."

"My job..."

"I'll take care of anything you need", Eddie said quickly.

"My apartment-"

"I'll handle it, baby. Just please say you'll come."

Steve's head tilted to the side. Robin's words echoed in his head. Wasn't this the scenario he'd been running from? An alpha having control over his life? If for even a moment, Eddie changed his mind about him, he'd be out a job and a home. Steve looked back down at him and that was his undoing.

"I'll need a new suitcase, and wardrobe, and-"

"Done, done, and whatever else you can think of, it's done." Eddie kissed him in elation, much sweeter than anything else they'd done all night.

-------------------------

Steve at least tried to sell the whole 'can I bounce for two months and come back later' at his job but obviously that didn't fly. It was fine. It wasn't really the work or even the miniscule paycheck he was attached to. It was simply the comfort of doing the same thing in the same place every day. He could fill out applications on the road and get the same job anywhere.

True to his word, Eddie took him out shopping just a couple of days later.

"I meant to tell you", Eddie said as they walked through the mall. He was dressed very casually in jeans and a t-shirt under a vest with the band's logo on the back. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he kept his shades on inside. "That lunch meeting with sushi? Went pretty good. Your advice worked."

"You sound surprised", Steve teased. He was wearing a green sweater and light jeans.

"Not surprised, beautiful. Just in awe." Eddie put an arm around him as he led him into the first store.

Just like at the tailor's Eddie let Steve loose, letting him pick and choose what he wanted. After the third store, Steve was looking at him hesitantly.

"You're really going to spoil me. Going to turn me into a brat and anything."

"What? You? My sweet angel babydoll? Never", Eddie smirked. "You're acting like no one's ever lavished you like this."

Steve shrugged. "Well, not like this but-", then he thought better of it. "Never mind."

"I don't think so, baby. I think I deserve at least one story of past-Steve. You got to google search my life story."

"How do you know I didn't ask Jeeves?"

Eddie put a hand to his heart, then took his hat off like a sign of respect. "RIP to a real one. But you're not gonna distract me, Stevie. I feel like you've been keeping something from me. Not something big, just something you don't think I should know."

Breaking his gaze from Eddie's, Steve spied a restaurant inside the mall. "Let's eat."

Eddie had them get a booth in the back, figuring Steve would want some modicum of privacy for this. He wasn't expecting a bombshell, but he figured it must mean something to Steve.

"So, when you met me, you probably thought I was this... downtrodden, poor omega with nowhere to go." That rainy night seemed so long ago.

"That's not what I thought at all", Eddie said with a shake of his head. "Honestly thought you were waiting for someone. Made no sense to me that you were all alone."

Steve smiled. "Well, I wasn't always alone. Not physically, at least. My parents are Layton and Margaret Harrington. They've got a hand in a lot of things but most of our money comes from apple orchards of all things."

"So you're the heir to a vast apple fortune", Eddie surmised.

"Was the heir to a vast fortune."

"Is there a story behind that?", Eddie asked, watching Steve pick at his food.

"Not an original one", Steve said with a chuckle. "They paraded the alpha sons of their associates. I was also paraded. I was offered a life where all I had to do was look nice and speak little and eventually bring up the next generation of whatever old money family my parents chose for me... It was suffocating."

Eddie's leg stuck out from under the table and rubbed against his. "You got your own place. And your own job. You got out. Why would you keep this from me though? Doesn't sound particularly scandalous."

"I don't know", Steve shook his head. "Maybe I didn't want you to think I was a gold digger, or maybe I didn't want you to think I had super high expectations, or-it just felt like I shouldn't tell you. I'm tired of carrying my parents around."

"They're really that loaded?"

"Didn't you hear me say 'old money'?"

"Is there some scorned ex-fiance I should be worried about?"

"Hmmmnope."

"You sure about that, sweetness?"

"I'm sure. None of them are looking for me. And none of them hold a candle to you."

Eddie could understand wanting to leave the past in the past. After eating, they continued their shopping spree. Eddie paused at a costume shop that showed a few of the outfits on mannequins in the window. Steve followed his line of sight and grinned.

"Gimme your card."

"Sure, what for?", Eddie asked as he handed it over to Steve.

"For a surprise. Go get a pretzel. I'll text you when I'm ready." He kissed Eddie's cheek and then went into the costume shop.

Whipped like cream, Eddie did in fact go get a pretzel, fantasizing about all the little outfits Steve could be buying right now. When they met up, he wasn't allowed to peek. So while he knew there must be a costume of some kind in Steve's wardrobe now, he was oblivious to the lingerie he'd bought as well.

Part 7

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx  @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @marklee-blackmore

[harveysweakness]

hi! do you think you could make a story where harvey’s wife gets really sick at work after working on a case non stop and he has to take care of her? i loooove a good domestic harvey story :))

A/N: i love domestic fics and i loved this request!!!!! I’ll write more in the future I’m sure :) also the gif didn’t load before i chose it so we’ll see what random one we get

You cleared your throat, signing the final documents for the case you’d just won. You’d been working non-stop and everyone in the office knew it. This case was personal, meaning you hadn’t trusted your personal associate with it. And that had meant you were the one working without sleep.

A knock at your glass door caught your attention.

“Congratulations are in order,” Jessica smiled.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You worked yourself into the ground, didn’t you?”

“I’m fine.”

She laughed lightly. “Harvey won’t let that go like I will.”

“Well, he can suck my-“

“Feel better, Y/N,” Jessica interrupted, laughing. “And congratulations, again.”

You sighed after she left. The annoying need to sniffle every five seconds from your running nose and the constant itch in your throat was a sure sign that you had indeed run yourself into the ground.

———————

A few hours later you were freezing, one of your comfy blankets wrapped around you while you focused on finishing up last minute little jobs you hadn’t done due to preparing for trial.

“Someone told me you weren’t feeling well.”

You looked up from your computer, unable to stop the smile that formed, the same smile anytime you saw your husband.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, watching him walk around your desk to sit on the edge right next to your chair. You kept your face neutral while he analyzed you.

“You’re flushed, I can feel the heat radiating off of you, I can hear your breathing which means you have a stuffy nose, and your voice sounds hoarse.”

“So?” You retorted, crossing your arms. He rolled his eyes.

“So, you’re coming with me and I’m taking you home.”

“No.”

“Don’t argue with me, Y/N. You won your trial and now you need to rest.”

“Harvey-“

“Sweetheart, please.”

You sighed, giving in. You muffled a cough into your blanket, your husband brushing his hand across your forehead before tucking fallen hair behind your ear.

“What about your work?” You asked.

“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” he shrugged. “Mike can handle it.”

Your heart warmed. It wasn’t often your husband took a day off of work, especially not for something as simple as this.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head, before he stood. “Come on, let’s get your coat.”

You stood, shrugging off your cozy blanket and moving right into your wool coat Harvey had open and ready for you. He grabbed your scarf, wrapping it snugly around your neck. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and grabbed your bag, letting his hand rest on your lower back as he guided you out of your office and down the hall towards the elevators.

Donna caught up with you on the way, giving your arm a brief squeeze, mouthing ‘feel better.’

“Donna, canc-“

“All of your meetings for the day are canceled, Mike has been made aware, and he asked me to pass along ‘feel better and congrats on the trial.”

Harvey nodded his approval.

“Thanks, Donna,” you smiled. She winked before moving to stand directly in front of Harvey, stopping you both effectively in your tracks.

“If you don’t nurse her back to full health, I will personally make sure Louis ends up alone in your office and touches all of your records.”

Harvey gave a pointed look. “I swear to you, Donna, I will make sure she gets back to full health.”

“That’s what I needed to hear.” With that, she left.

“Ever since you came to this firm, people suddenly prefer you to me,” your husband wondered aloud.

“Can you really blame them?” You teased.

“No, I can’t,” Harvey answered simply, hitting the elevator button.

—————

“What is that smell?” You questioned, wandering into the kitchen.

“I’m surprised you can smell at all,” Harvey replied. “It’s soup.”

“I can smell a little bit, and that is one good-smelling soup.” You sat down at one of the counter stools, watching your husband stirring the large pot on the stove, his laptop open on the counter next to him.

“Harvey, if you have work, you don’t need to stay here and take care of me.”

He turned, wiping his hands on the towel next to the sink. “It’s just the recipe.”

He turned to remove the pot from the hot burner before coming over to you.

“You’re not as flushed,” - his hand came to rest on your forehead- “and you’re fever is down.”

“So why do I feel worse?” You asked quietly. His brow furrowed before he moved closer, his arms circling around you, letting you burrow your face into his chest.

It wasn’t easy for either of you to show vulnerability, something you were both trying to work on since you both cared so much about the other.

“Why don’t I get you a bowl of soup and then we can cuddle in bed and watch whatever show you want.”

You nodded, hesitantly pulling away from him. Before he went back to the stove he hooked a finger under your jaw and lifted your chin up, leaning down. You put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“You’ll get sick.”

“I don’t care.” He closed the gap easily, your hand moving from his chest up to his neck. His lips met yours for a moment before moving to your cheek and your forehead and your nose.

“I love you, Harvey Specter.”

“I love you, Y/N Specter.”

[charlesslut16]

-It is called lovebombing-

summary : mick uses lovebombing to get you back....

PAIRINGS : mick schumacher x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : LOVEEEE YOUUUU

masterlist ; DECEMBER MASTERLIST 24’ 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been months since you last saw Mick Schumacher. Your ex. Life had somehow pulled you both in different directions—his racing career, your career, everything that came with it.

But the connection, the spark, the bond you had shared never truly faded. It just got buried underneath the chaos, the distance, and the quiet ache of missing him.

And then, one cold December morning, your phone buzzed.

You were scrolling through emails, sipping your coffee when you noticed the notification. It was a message from Mick. Your heart skipped a beat.

Hey, I know it’s been a while, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Let’s catch up soon?

Simple, yet the words hit you like a wave of nostalgia, a wave of something stronger than just a friendly hello. There was a warmth in those words, something that made you pause, something that made your heart flutter even after all this time.

You hadn’t expected to hear from him, not like this. After all, it had been months, no messages, no calls. Just a simple, “let’s catch up,” felt like an invitation to revisit something you weren’t sure you were ready to feel again.

But you couldn’t resist. Not when it was him.

You quickly typed back.

I’d love that. When?

A minute later, the phone buzzed again.

How about this Saturday? I’ve missed you.

Your heart melted as soon as you read it. That’s when the love bombing started.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day arrived faster than you expected, and when you stepped out of the car in front of the cozy café you’d agreed on, there he was. Mick stood near the door, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket, his signature grin lighting up his face as he spotted you.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his voice carrying that warmth you missed so much.

You smiled back, a little unsure of what to say, but the moment you met his eyes, it all felt natural again.

"Hey, Mick. It’s good to see you," you replied, and before you could think, your arms were around him, pulling him into a hug. It felt like no time had passed at all.

Mick hugged you back just as tightly, his chest rising and falling against yours. You stayed like that for a moment, letting the world around you fade. It was a simple gesture, but one that felt like a promise of something more.

When you pulled away, Mick’s hands found their way to your shoulders, his eyes searching your face with a soft, almost adoring expression.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice low, sincere.

You laughed, feeling a mix of warmth and nerves rush through you. "You always know what to say."

Mick’s grin only widened, his eyes sparkling with something more than just fondness. "I mean it. It’s been too long."

The café was warm, cozy, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filling the air. You both sat down at a corner table, the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of cups surrounding you as you settled into the familiarity of each other’s presence.

"I’ve been thinking about you a lot," Mick confessed, his voice gentle but firm. "I know we didn’t end things the best way. I regret how things turned out, and I… I just want to make it right, if you’ll let me."

You felt your heart flutter again, but this time with a mixture of surprise and hesitation. You weren’t sure what he meant by "make it right," but the sincerity in his voice, the honesty in his eyes, made you feel like he was serious.

"I—Mick, it’s okay. We both had things to figure out, right?" You shrugged, trying to brush it off, but you could feel the lump in your throat. "I’ve missed you too."

His expression softened, and he reached across the table to gently touch your hand. "I’ve missed you so much," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I’m sorry. I know I hurt you."

Before you could respond, the waiter arrived with your drinks, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but the air between you felt charged, full of unspoken words and a growing tension that both of you were skirting around.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of shared stories, jokes, and that familiar connection that you both seemed to fall back into so easily. But deep down, you could feel it. Mick was trying—no, he was actively working on showing you that he cared, that he hadn’t forgotten about you, and that he wanted to make things right.

As the café began to close, Mick stood up and pulled you into another hug. "I really am glad we met today," he said, his voice soft against your ear.

"I’m glad too," you replied, your heart full in a way that felt both safe and exciting.

Before you parted ways, Mick gave you his number again, just in case you didn’t have it saved. "Don’t be a stranger, alright?" he said, his smile warm, but there was something else in his eyes—something that made you feel like this wasn’t the last time you’d see each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And then, Mick’s love bombing began in earnest.

It wasn’t just one text or one call. It was daily messages, sweet, thoughtful notes that came at random moments. They made you smile, each one a reminder of the person Mick was—the attentive, thoughtful, caring side of him that made your heart ache in the best way possible.

Good morning, beautiful. Hope you have a lovely day!

I was thinking about you today and just wanted to remind you how much I care about you. Always here for you.

I saw something today that made me think of you. Can’t wait to show you when we meet again.

There were also little surprises—like the small bouquet of flowers that arrived at your door, the handwritten note that came with it, or the way Mick would randomly send you photos of something that reminded him of you. Whether it was a funny picture of a dog or a snapshot of a sunset, it was always accompanied by a short message, something that showed he was thinking of you.

Each message felt like a little piece of warmth, a piece of him being sent directly to you, across the miles. And you couldn’t help but smile, each time a little more, each time a little more certain that maybe, just maybe, there was something here worth revisiting.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Christmas drew closer, Mick’s messages continued, each one more affectionate than the last. There was one that stood out, though, one that made your heart race.

I’ve been thinking about Christmas. Would you want to spend it together?

The simplicity of it, the sincerity behind the question, caught you off guard. Mick wasn’t asking for anything big or extravagant. He just wanted to be with you. And that’s when you realized how much you’d missed him, how much you’d always cared for him.

Yes. I’d love that. You quickly typed back, your fingers trembling a little as you pressed send.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Christmas Eve arrived, and the night was colder than you’d expected. The streets were lined with twinkling lights, the shops had their windows decorated with festive cheer, and the air smelled of pine and cinnamon. The world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the holiday magic to fully settle in.

You stepped out of your car and immediately spotted Mick. He was waiting for you near the entrance of a small restaurant, his hands in his pockets, his breath visible in the cold night air. When he saw you, his face lit up, that warm, genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice low as he walked toward you. "You look amazing."

You laughed, feeling the warmth of his words spread through you. "Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself."

Mick chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, I cleaned up well for you."

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the comfort of being around him once again. As you walked inside, the warmth of the restaurant wrapped around you, and you both shared a quiet dinner, just the two of you. The conversation was easy, natural, but there was an underlying current between you, something more, something that felt like a promise.

As you finished your meal, Mick took your hand in his, his thumb brushing across your knuckles gently.

"I’m really glad we’re here together," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. "I’ve missed you so much. And I’m sorry for everything before."

You squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It’s okay, Mick. I’ve missed you too. And I’m just happy we’re here now."

As the night came to a close, Mick drove you home. When he stopped in front of your place, he turned to you, his eyes soft.

"I know it’s late, but can I walk you to the door?" he asked, his voice sincere.

You nodded, feeling your heart beat a little faster. You didn’t want this night to end, but you also knew that everything was finally falling into place.

As he walked you to the door, you turned to him, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting off his face. "Mick, I’m really glad you reached out to me again."

He smiled, his eyes warm. "I’m glad I did too."

And with that, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a kiss that felt like the beginning of something new. Something real.

Mick pulled back slightly, his hand resting on your cheek. "Merry Christmas," he whispered.

You smiled, your heart full. "Merry Christmas, Mick."

And as you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but feel like this was just the beginning. The love bombing had brought you back together, and this time, you knew you wouldn’t let go.

[jetblack4realz]

beautiful - bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary - growing up as bradley's best friend and ride or die, then going to college and suddenly realizing it's more than that

warnings - don't think so

word count - 1.8k, just a cute little guy

______________________________________________________________

you couldn't remember a time that you weren't with bradley bradshaw. you had grown up by his side, from kindergarten to now sophomore year of college, you had been his wingman. and he was yours.

you had the same friend group, all of whom dated each other, which left you and bradley to do your own thing which was fine. everyone expected y'all to get together eventually, but when freshman year came to a close they all lost that hope.

until now.

it was well known by your friends that harrison ralph was the biggest douchebag UVA had ever seen. bradley knew that, carlie knew that, georgie knew that, and so did beckham and lara. but you, well, let's just call you optimistic.

harrison had approached you at a frat party a few weeks into the senior year, catching your attention quickly with some pretty words and an even prettier smile. with his arm leaned against the wall behind you, he was getting close, and bradley was getting pissed.

"y/n!" he called with an exaggerated smile, reaching forward and grabbing your hand. harrison leaned away, eying bradley as if trying to size him up. georgie laughed at the scene, knowing that 5'10", 160lbs harrison stood no chance against 6'3", 200lbs bradley bradshaw, even though his attitude sure made up for some of it.

"bradshaw," harrison hummed. "what do we owe the pleasure?"

bradley didn't look at the boy, instead directing his attention to you. "lara and carlie want to go get food."

it wasn't an invitation, nor was it a question of whether or not the two of you would be attending. you were going to leave with him or he wasn't leaving you.

"are they drunk?" you asked. when bradley nodded his head, you sighed. "where's the nearest arby's?"

"you're not seriously leaving, are you?" harrison asked, grabbing your arm as you stepped towards bradley.

"sorry, i've gotta take care of some friends. i'll see you around," you said with a polite smile, letting bradley pull you away. harrison reached forward, grabbing your other hand with a firm grasp.

"text me, ok? i'll wait up for you," he said, winking quickly.

"well, don't," was bradley's sharp response. he dragged you back to the group who had already left to get in their cars. a text buzzed on your phone in your back pocket as you pulled the door open to bradley's bronco, and as you fished it out to read the text, your brows knitted closely together.

"lara said she's going back to beckham's," you said loud enough for bradley to hear on the other side of the truck. "and georgie's dropping carlie off at the dorm."

so you hadn't seen the boys dragging their girlfriends off with smirks and winks thrown in bradley's direction? probably a good thing.

"let's just go home then," bradley shrugged as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"well, maybe i can go back-"

"let's go home," he said again, slowly with his eyebrows knitted. "you don't need to see that harrison douchebag."

"well, i don't wanna go back to the dorm to carlie and georgie banging again," you sighed, hopping into your usual passenger seat and shutting the door next to you. "i think a third round of bleach will officially ruin my eyesight."

"just come back to my place," he shrugged, turning the truck on and beginning to pull out of the small space he'd managed to parallel park into earlier that evening.

you didn't answer immediately, instead staring down at your shut off phone.

"do you think harrison meant what he did?"

"what?" he asked quickly, glancing over at you as he continued to drive down the backroads of charlottesville to his apartment.

"i mean... guys like him don't look at girls like me like he did. and they certainly don't tell them they're waiting up for their text."

"sweetheart, i think he's waiting up for something else," bradley told you with a sigh. "and he meant it. he damn sure meant it."

"are you sure?"

"he seemed pretty interested. dunno why he wouldn't be."

"i don't know why he would be."

"what are you on about?" he asked, glancing at you again as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. it was dark, only lit by two streetlamps on complete opposite sides of each other, and you could barely see the walkway into the complex. not that it mattered - you both knew the place like the back of your hand. he parked as you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

"guys aren't interested in me. ever. it's just unbelievable."

"except it's entirely believable. do you know how many guys i've seen check you out over the years? for starters, before they met carlie and lara, georgie and beckham were obsessed with you."

"no they weren't," you laughed, shaking your head.

"they were, i swear!" he said, a smile pulling at his lips as he watched you smile too. "they were sixteen year old boys with functioning eyes, of course they were obsessed with a beautiful girl like you."

"i may be pretty cute now, but i definitely wasn't a looker then," you laughed, recalling the awkward stage of high school.

"oh trust me, you were and still are insanely beautiful, sweetheart. nearly every guy on the football team asked me to give them your number and they always wanted to know if you'd been asked to homecoming or prom or whatever yet."

"they asked you for my number and you didn't give it to them?" you asked with a dramatic gasp and wide eyes.

"oh hell no! you were mine and mine alone, i definitely wasn't willing to share you with the meatheads that were the bedford high football team."

"i was yours?" you asked curiously, turning completely to face him with a smirk pulling at one side of your mouth.

"my best friend, i mean," he corrected quickly, grinning your way.

"mhmm, we'll go with that for now," you hummed, laughing as he looked at you incredulously.

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"but moving on - why didn't you tell me all of this before? because i've been convinced that i like always have something in my teeth or something the way some of these guys look at me, because it's not flattering and doesn't seem anywhere near that they'd wanna kiss me."

"darlin', they're staring lower than your teeth and they're hoping for more than just a kiss, let me tell you that," bradley informed you with a frown. "guys are prudes and jackasses and that's why i never told you. ain't any of 'em that i thought were good enough for you."

"is that why you dragged me out of that party?" you asked. he furrowed his brows, but you just smiled and laughed. "i know the girls didn't wanna get food, you just needed an excuse to pull me away from harrison ralph."

"that's cause he's also a douche," he nodded. "ain't no way in hell you're spending a night with him."

"but he's a cute douche," you sighed, laying over on the middle seat between you and bradley dramatically. "i haven't been on a date in months, brad. it's like suddenly every single guy in virginia has gone off girls."

"it's because they're intimidated," he answered softly, messing with the splayed out ends of your hair as you looked up at him. "you're beautiful, crazy smart, naturally talented at everything you do, super ambitious and driven - they know you're out of their league."

"i wish they'd just try. i feel like they've all given up on me or something." you sounded defeated, because you were. bradley hated to hear it, leaning back in his seat as you grabbed his hand, messing with his callouses as he worked up the courage to say what was on his mind.

apparently, he took too long and you were sitting up and sliding out of the car. he followed quickly, locking the bronco and coming to your side as you pulled a hand through your hair, the other arm crossed over your chest and the other quick to join it.

"what's going on?" he asked. "what is this really about?"

you continued walking, your eyes on bradley's door just down the outdoor hall as you sighed. "i got into flight school today."

"what? that's awesome, congratulations," he told you with a smile.

"yeah, well, i'm not even gonna go, so it's all pointless," you said, lips a straight line and a small crease between your brows slowly forming.

"why? what's wrong, why can't you go?" he asked.

"my mom was pissed enough as is that i came here and if she learns that i'm graduating just to not come home and instead go to flight school - she's gonna flip, she's not gonna let me go."

"what do you mean? you're an adult, y/n, she doesn't get to tell you what to do anymore."

"no, but she can guilt me into going into business with her. she's got the bakery and she needs me to run the business side of it. it's why i got my marketing degree-"

"you got your marketing degree because you needed something to do while figuring out what you really want. and you want to fly. we've talked about being in the navy for years together, frankly i was surprised you said you were going to college even before my papers got pulled."

"well, mom needed help and-"

"and she can hire some. you get to choose what to do with your life, y/n," he told you. "you're like, this crazy brilliant girl who's been surrounded with people who tell you that you can't do anything your whole life and they just need to get out of your head; your mom, teachers, idiot guys, all of 'em."

"that's hard," you laughed dryly.

"well, let me tell you this then," he said as you came to a stop in front of his door. "you are amazing, y/n. in every way possible and there's not enough words to describe it. and-" he hyped himself up, taking a quick breath "-i haven't given up on you. you're everything to me."

you were smiling, like big, and that was all the clearance bradley needed to lean in and press his lips to yours. even though you were a little surprised, you kiss him back, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. he pulled away after several moments, breathing deeply and looking down at you with a smile.

"you're everything to me too," you mumbled, returning his smile. he kissed you again, shorter this time, and softer too.

"i'm really, really glad to hear that," he said.

you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and you reluctantly unwinded yourself from the boy in front of you, pulling your phone out to read the text.

hey beautiful, can i come over??

"i'd rather i be the only one to call you beautiful, beautiful," bradley said after reading it upside down. you clicked on the contact, scrolling down and clicking the red 'block contact' text. it disappeared from the screen and you grinned up at him.

"i think i'd be okay with that."

[aldisobey]

Fuel to Fire

AO3 Link - Fuel to Fire

A gift on this eve! Finally got it to a point where I don't mind sharing. Emmlich content, come get some Emmlich and Rook angst. It's got comfort and warmth and I've been with it too long just take it before I start hating it again. Tagging @emmg you asked for it! (oh yeah and the title is just the song I listened to the most, it's how I'm naming things because eugh naming things how). Technically part two in a series, check out Nascent Blight if you need more.

Word Count: ~3k

Relationship: Rook Thorne x Emmlich, M/M

Full story below because why not

Emmrich paced the room, green flickers of his skull mixing light with the soothing glow of the water’s reflection on the ground. Rook sprawled out on the divan, head back on the armrest, eyes closed, and rubbed at his temples. Peeked a moment at the towering necromancer gleaming soft in the muted room.

“Rook.” Emmrich’s stern tone made him squeeze his eyes shut. The lich ceased pacing and stood near the small table at the center. Hands folded behind him he faced the waters. “That was reckless.”

The Warden was still coated in lingering blight from the Wetlands. He’d meant to clean up and go celebrate the Eruption’s destruction on return to the Lighthouse, but it was all he could do to drag himself here. He could still feel the echo of it. Too close, too much.

He gripped his head, pressed hard as he dared to drive away the thrumming recollection of whispers. Thank whatever luck graced him it hadn’t…his hands dropped. One to the ground, the other his chest. Their pressures had provided no relief. It would fade, always had, should have stopped when they burned the thing, but something of it’s nature let that damnable echo persist. That or a head injury, he’d taken some hits.

He sighed. Slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to glance at Emmrich’s back facing him.

“Had to be done.” Equally stern in a quiet way, exhaustion clear.

“You might have left the matter to Davrin.” A resounding voice. The folded hands clenched, then released, flicked to the side as Emmrich turned round to fix Rook with his hollow stare, “Or Evka and Antoine, or any number of other Wardens in Lavendell.”

“Emmrich,” Rook responded more softly, slowly, but kept firm, “I had my reasons.”

“And?” The skull tilted, frustration snipping, “Were those reasons worth it?” Emmrich gestured towards Rook, everything said in that tone and movement. Today had not been easy for the rogue. Taash had to half carry him back.

“Yes.” Grumbling, he swung his legs off the divan, sat up properly to face Emmrich’s accusations. “They were.” He straightened his back and squared off his shoulders, suppressed the pulse built on his forehead with a heavy blink. “Look. I brought Taash because they can burn whatever comes their way. And I brought you because you’re undead.”

Emmrich twitched, almost imperceptibly, at that. Rook might’ve missed it had his attention on the lich been less than absolute, but the movement sent his stomach falling. He bit at his tongue and rushed on.

“We got the job done alright? Lavendell can thrive. Everyone safe.” He rushed the words. Kept them short. Folded his arms. He might’ve looked petulant, but the wear of the day was too loud. Holes in the sleeves, tears on the sides, slash on the leg, all red stained, all healed flesh below, but memories of wounds. Everywhere.

“Darling. What about you?” Emmrich’s voice shook, seeing more than the evident physical. Undead eyes exposed a roiling of lingering red pain whispers, swirling confusion, exhaustion like a leaded blanket.

“Hmm? I’m already blighted, it was no concern.” Rook shrugged, doing his best to appear at ease. Brush off the worry, confirm the wellness of the situation. They were here, they were whole, they…

“Enough.” A snarl of exasperation, Emmrich stepped closer, seeming ever taller as he approached, “Davrin would have joined us had it been no concern. You brought Taash.” There was finality in the words, a stillness as the simmering anger evened and burned with purpose, “I was there, Rook. Your Warden friends were quite clear on the danger that Eruption posed to you.”

Rook grimaced, rubbed his hands, felt over callus, cut, and bruise. It hurt. He added pressure, focused the pain there.

Emmrich was right of course. The lingering pounding in his head was testament to that. What if the Eruption had sparked something? It felt safer for Taash to be there with their fire. Why put more than one Warden at risk? How many was it if not him? If not Davrin? Thoughts roiling he shrank below that green gaze burrowing into him feet away. Rook realized then he’d gone slack jawed, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. But no. He had made the right call.

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Fine!” Rook growled and stood using the armrest with a stifled groan. Patience worn thin after all the drumming in his skull he put his hands to his hips when he reached his full height and glared up at Emmrich.

He didn’t shout, but matched the steaming frustration, “I knew it was dangerous for me. Alright? But I had to do it.” The words came out through grit teeth, biting back the desire to escalate.

Emmrich drew back. Not a step, but into himself. “Dearest...”

“No, don't dearest me.” It came out like a hiss, and Rook leaned the smallest degree forward, “The Grey Wardens need every last person after all this.” His hands flailed out, gesturing vaguely to the world at large, “After Weisshaupt…” A breath found him. The fury caught on his tongue. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He cleared his throat, kept strong, “My jobs done once we’ve killed those gods.” His hands returned to his temples for a moment to steady himself, applied pressure to calm the beat. The blood flushing to his face couldn’t be helping.

Rook gave his head a shake and looked askance, maker how did a skull appear sad, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to face Emmrich in that hunched posture before him. Bent, mourning, pathetic…no, Rook swallowed. Not that. The necromancer didn’t stand alone. The lean was enclosing him, protective. He dared a glance forward.

The lich stood draping the Warden in shadow like some gilded ribbed vaulting. And Rook, an insignificant supplicant come, with soft flesh aching, stinking of blight. Before a cathedral.

“Davrin’s got a book in the works!” He sputtered before he forgot all of the pieces reinforcing his decision. “Antoine makes such things?” Because it had been the right decision, “Can you imagine things if left to Evka’s hands?” They would all flourish after he did his part.

“You think I’d risk a single one of them?” Voice a hushed whisper of desperation. He couldn’t bear it.

No. The gods died next. No one else.

Tomorrow. His mind kept at a furious pace. A last check on Lavendell. Then Treviso, the Crows had word. He could feel cold sweat on his neck, they might have a location. Almost there. Not much longer now, almost safe, and all at once his legs went weak. Rook sank, barely controlled, back down to the divan. He settled with elbows on his knees, hands holding his head, and stared down at the floor. Could feel welling in his eyes, blinked it away.

“Rook,” Emmrich’s voice was slow, the gentle echo of a creek; water over stones as it traveled through him, “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity. Rook could feel it. Feel his nerves still at the serene appeal, “You carry the weight of every decision. Don’t you?” Not a question, a declaration, and in hearing it, so firmly spoken, Rook quaked.

“You were exemplary today.” Finally. A shuddering breath, a tiny lift, that voice of praise, a warming balm.

“My love,” The words sank deep past the skin, something in the tone kneading them firmly within the chest, past bone and into heart where a soul might sit, “let me help you.” Rook sniffed, didn’t trust his voice, dipped a nod once. Emmrich extended his hand, gestured towards Rook’s head.

Movements small, close, Rook leaned in, but then gave start, bit his lip, froze, “..wait.” He still needed to scour, make sure every speck of blight was gone, that could take awhile for hair.

“That’s of no concern.” Emmrich smirked.

Rook looked up as that comforting palm settled soft on his head. Peered past the linen, memories flashing of that arched brow, those lidded eyes, and met a crowned skull, flickering flame. He’d heard it in the tone.

His eyes went wide, tight pain gripped his chest. That was the cost wasn’t it? But then, he felt his heart beat. There was that…the desire...ever since…

'Rook’s Necromancer. An excellent subject to test how long one could go back and forth between life and death.'

Rook blinked at the perfect, beautiful, loving undead skull staring back at him, the whisper of hope escaping from dreams and solidifying here and now.

“You’re safe.” Rook choked out the words.

Then collapsed. Gone so limp he would have fallen from couch to floor had Emmrich not anticipated the movement and dropped to his knees to catch him in his arms.

They dropped together a moment, Emmrich’s arms a cushioning guide. And once stable, once still, he lifted, held the trembling man close, and carefully settled down on the divan with him. The Warden, for his part, was all snot and tears, clinging to the lich’s robes. His arms wrapped tight around the ribcage as he pressed close as he could.

"Emmrich, it can't…” His voice and body shook, words closing off in the shudder of relief.

Emmrich cradled Rook as tight as he dared, a soft hush drifting from him as he brought calm in his firm embrace. There was no measured breathing to guide the man hiccupping into his cloak, so Emmrich purposefully rubbed Rook’s back in the rhythm of a breath, and with a few extra movements green sprites darted from his fingers. All at once sound was still and calm around Rook’s hearing, and then began the sigh of trees, wind through leaves, in measured cadence to help level the rogue’s racing heart.

Rook almost felt a cool breeze on his skin same as he heard it, and the glow of water and flame mixed like light through the leaves to his eyes. He sighed, then lifted his head, buried it beneath the lich’s chin, felt his final quivers fade as a hum traveled in waves through the bones embracing him, back and forth, kissing skin where it touched, a fleeting doting touch. The beginnings of a smile and easy breath came to him at last.

Emmrich’s voice sounded quiet around…in…where his head lay. The traveling hum returned deep and pleasant, warming the skin where it passed. “My love. To think…you worried over me, to such...” Disbelief mixed with adoration, Emmrich’s voice eased its way into Rook’s waiting ears, pure love. The lost words saying more than any uttered.

Rook was steady now, melting instead of shivering, he clung to that genuine smile dawning on his lips, he could have this at least. They couldn’t take this. Rook tilted his head up to whisper to the air where Emmrich’s throat might’ve been.

“I love you.”

He put his head back down as he felt both of Emmrich’s hands move up to massage his scalp. The room was incandescent with green, the necromancer’s palms the epicenter of the glow. Focused. He plied at the Warden’s head. His movements were rhythmic, the magic alive with a pulse and rippling at his direction.

Rook could feel the echos become sated, the answering ebb of the necrotic channeling a path of release, carrying the riptide tight and rebounding in his skull back out to sea. Ease and push, gentle waves of magic and fingers worked the movements with Fade and physical, gently towing that ache out from the Warden’s skull.

Rook yawned, almost a thrum while in Emmrich's care, “Of course I was worried.” And he stretched in small movements, “You immortal fool.” His voice was low, pining, enraptured by the fool he entrusted with his care. Emmrich didn’t reply, his voice occupied in the ending incantations. Otherwise they kept in silence, the soft green glow encasing Rook’s scalp continuing to pulse, dancing with the shimmering from the tank.

“Darling,” when Emmrich's voice finally graced Rook again it sent warmth flashing through him, “I’m safe.” A rolling delight, the aches and pains losing hold, Rook groaned, toes curled as every muscle seemed to tighten, and hold. Then release.

The magic dimmed. Rook breathed heavy, then slow, then measured, calm. Almost asleep.

Emmrich sighed, his voice an echo that resounded through the room. He took a long laborious moment to take off his crown, and with utmost care placed it on the table behind them. Then, barefaced as possible, spoke gentle, the deep echo private now, tumbling only to the Warden’s ears, “But, Sir Thorne.” He looked down at Rook, tilted the man’s face to look up from where it lay on his sternum, kept his tracing fingers there, touch yearning. “You are most unsafe.”

Rook felt his eyes go hot at the words, if only because Emmrich’s couldn’t, and he could hear the despondent tears held in the lich’s tone. He tried to look away, but that meant leaving that soft touch on his chin, he pressed down into the palm instead.

“I’m sorry.” he twisted his head deeper into the hand, whispered the mumbled words into Emmrich’s thumb. The thumb traced Rook’s lips a moment, but seemed distant, moving further away.

“Those are words, Rook.” Emmrich’s hand withdrew, Rook looked up, sensing the gravity in the next words had been stressed by absent touch. “Please. If only out of love for me. Take more thought and action towards your safety?”

Rook gave the barest of nods, mind rebelling against the gross hope of self preservation. He nestled back down and away from the skull’s sight. Emmrich’s voice grumbled in old exasperation, his hands moving to cradle the Warden’s skull and massage along his neck. “If you remain so determined to put your life at risk I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the deepest tombs of the Necropolis. Seal you there until you develop a modicum of sense.”

“That a promise?” Rook’s voice surprised them both, and had Emmrich been able to feel heat his hands might have burned from where they held Rook. So quick and fierce was the flush on the man, so immediate the reply, it came without thought, driven by something deeper.

He could feel the lich’s fingers dig hard into his skin. Maker he really did want...The skull was staring up and away from him now. But Rook could hear the words resound in his own chest, “Don’t tempt me.” A low rolling warning, like thunder from a storm still away. But Rook could sense the ache, felt his heart quicken at what some choice words might lead to, felt the barest tremor in the hands holding him, but then they were gone. The storm gave way to trickling laughter at the thought.

Emmrich moved to extricate himself from the divan, took extra care to settle Rook comfortably in place. Hummed away the lighthearted mirth as he stood free and took off his cloak, gently draped it over the fading Warden, “Seriously, dearest, you mustn't jest.”

Rook held tight to the lich’s cloak and burrowed into it, buried his face deep in the lapel as he muttered half asleep already, “Don’t tease, you started it”.

He yawned. Felt warm, eased his mind to think of falling quiet, but the shiver of dreams crept up at him. The Fade always awaited, didn't it. Rook bit at his cheek, blinked an eye open to peek out from beneath the cloak. Emmrich was still there, though his back was turned to him now, he had taken to quiet pacing again, fish in the tank following as he glittered in the pale light.

“Emmrich.” Rook whispered.

“Hmm?” Emmrich paused midstep, fish paused midswim.

Rook stifled a chuckle, overcome at that moment with overwhelming adoration. He could ask this, a beaming smile hidden beneath the cloak, eye twinkling from beneath the fabric he muttered, “You once comforted me by saying the lich lords were, ‘Unlikely to visit your slumber’.”

Rook mused, calling back to that first time, that first terror. Emmrich had been so excited to share, so animated when explaining, the first time Rook heard the word ‘Lich’. Ice had taken Rook’s veins then. Fresh terror, new fear, but what emotion did he know better? And what a blessing it could be? His blood ran cold. Something deep in his gut warned him, but he ignored it. Looked long at the lich before him, fish following Emmrich’s concerned sway, and let the prickling sensation thaw, there could be warmth here, “Is that…something…you could do?” He finally asked.

“Oh.” The lich seemed to stand taller, an edge of excitement to his tone. “I hadn’t the time to consider it.” He started towards Rook, came to kneel at his side, put a hand on the cloak where the man’s shoulder lay, head tilting in question, “Would that interest you?”

Rook poked more of his head out so that his lips could be read, voice a hush, “Maybe…if you can, just uh check in?” He swallowed, “That song, it's in dreams…it’s worse…” Emmrich’s hushing tones cut off Rook. One hand going so far as to pull the cloak back up to cover the Warden's mouth and tuck him in.

“My love, speak no further. Sleep. Nothing will dare trouble your dreams.”

“Thank you…you know you can troub…”

“Another time darling. Please. Rest.”

Eyes closed Rook could hear the smirk again, felt a heaviness settle in his limbs, swore he was already dreaming when he heard the warmth in the immortal’s voice holding him, was that a lullaby? And sleep took him.