#best i can do is Think and plan some fics

[goldfades]

family ties | chapter one, DAYLIGHT | burrow⁹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference!

FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | the youngest kelce has spent her whole life navigating the chaos of her famous last name, always lingering in the background while her brothers took center stage. but when travis falls for taylor swift, she suddenly finds herself feeling like a third wheel in her own family. and after your heartbreak with an nba player, you never thought you'd find love again.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | just normal prologue stuff! kelce family bantering, mentions of jayson tatum, olivia h mention (IT WAS FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR), heartbreak (but no graphic descriptions), nothing else!

⟢ ┈ ev's notes: okay listen guys i had to think of a random basketball player and the first one i thought of was jayson tatum. if ur not attracted to him, just like... imagine someone else but the celtics are not mentioned so... it's fine!!!!! it's a minor little detail but yeah!

also, i might change some stuff that was from the OG fic just because it doesn't fit the plot i've made LOL. enjoy!

You were an accident in every possible way.

Born an astounding eight years after Travis, nearly eleven after Jason, you weren’t exactly planned. By the time you came along, your parents had been convinced they were done, their hands already full with two loud, competitive boys who spent more time wrestling in the backyard than sitting still. And then—there was you.

A baby sister in every sense of the word.

Your brothers treated you like some kind of rare, delicate thing at first, unsure what to do with you other than stare into your crib and poke at your tiny hands. But that didn’t last long. Before you could even walk, Jason was letting you sit on his lap while he played video games, and Travis had appointed himself your unofficial bodyguard, glaring at anyone who so much as breathed in your direction.

You grew up surrounded by chaos—loud dinners, backyard football games that almost always ended in someone getting tackled too hard, and a house full of laughter. Your parents tried their best to raise you with the same principles that had shaped your brothers, but you were different from the start.

Where Jason was responsible and steady, you were restless. Where Travis was loud and the life of the party, you were observant.

It wasn’t that you were quiet—no one raised in a Kelce household could be described as quiet—but you learned early on how to move through the world a little differently. Being the youngest meant you had to be quick-witted, fast on your feet, and always ready to hold your own. If you didn’t, you’d get run over.

By the time you hit high school, you had learned how to use your last name to your advantage. It got you free drinks at parties, easier conversations with teachers, and a built-in reputation before you ever had to prove yourself. But it also came with expectations—the kind that lingered over you like a shadow.

People expected you to be just like your brothers.

Maybe a little wild, maybe a little reckless. Definitely athletic. Definitely loud.

And you were some of those things.

You were an athlete, sure—your dad would’ve had an aneurysm if you weren’t—but not in the way people wanted. You had a sharp competitive streak, but you never cared about being the best. You played because it was fun, because it was expected, because you liked the feeling of winning, but you never had dreams of making it big. Not like Jason. Not like Travis.

And as for being reckless? You were a Kelce, so it was in your blood. But you were also smart. Calculated. Where Travis would throw himself into anything just to see what would happen, you thought three steps ahead. You weren’t scared of getting into trouble, but you were good at avoiding it.

That was the thing about growing up the way you did—watching your brothers carve their paths before you. You learned how to navigate things differently. You let them be the loudest people in the room while you played the long game, slipping through cracks unnoticed until you wanted to be noticed.

You didn’t date much in high school—not seriously, anyway. Not because people didn’t try (being a Kelce came with its perks), but because most boys were too intimidated by the idea of dating Jason and Travis Kelce’s little sister. You never really minded. Most of the guys at your school weren’t worth your time, anyway.

But you did notice the way people looked at you.

The way guys wanted to say they had a shot with you, even if they never tried. The way girls sometimes whispered about you, speculating if you were actually as down-to-earth as you pretended to be. The way teachers expected you to either be a slacker or a prodigy, like there was no in-between.

You weren’t sure when exactly you started feeling like an enigma—like people had decided who you were before you even had a chance to figure it out for yourself.

Maybe it was when your friends started bringing you to parties just because your last name got you through the door. Maybe it was when people started assuming you were only where you were because of your family. Maybe it was when you realized that, no matter what you did, you’d always be compared to the brothers who came before you.

By the time you graduated, you had perfected the art of keeping people at a distance. You knew how to smile just enough to be approachable, how to joke just enough to make people like you. But you also knew how to keep things yours.

And so you did.

You left home with the intention of making a name for yourself—outside of football, outside of the Kelce legacy. You weren’t running away from it, exactly. You just needed something that was yours alone.

And for the most part, you succeeded.

You built a life that had nothing to do with your last name. You found your own friends, your own career, your own world. You managed to exist outside of the NFL bubble, despite how often it tried to pull you back in. And for years, that was enough.

You were nineteen when you met Jayson Tatum.

Nineteen and reckless in the way only someone on the verge of something monumental can be—when success feels inevitable, and the world hasn’t yet taught you how cruel it can be. You had grown up in the shadows of your last name, in the periphery of stadium lights, in the echoes of your brothers’ roaring crowds. But Jayson was the first person who made you feel like the center of something.

You weren’t naïve. You knew what it meant to love someone like him—someone whose name was already in the rafters, whose presence carried weight before he even walked into a room. He was smooth, confident, charming in that way that made you want to believe him. And maybe that was the problem: you did.

It started fast, the way these things always do. Courtside seats, late-night flights, whispered phone calls from different time zones. He made you feel special, called you his “genius,” said he had never met someone like you before. But love with him always came with conditions. He loved you, but he wanted you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into the spaces left between his career, his schedule, his life. And you tried. God, you tried. You sat in the stands, smiled for the cameras, learned the rhythms of his world even when he never bothered to learn yours.

And it was never enough.

It was always push and pull, a constant cycle of breaking and rebuilding. He would tell you he couldn’t do it anymore, that you were too much, that he needed someone who understood his life. And then weeks later, he’d be back, whispering apologies, promising he had figured it out this time. And you—stupid, hopeful, nineteen, then twenty, then twenty-one—kept believing him.

Until December 2022. The last time. The worst time.

You had always been careful, always known how to exist just outside the spotlight, but this time, the breakup wasn’t just yours. It was public. Messy. Everywhere. Headlines dissecting your relationship, tabloids picking apart your heartbreak like it was something they were entitled to. Your face plastered across the internet, grainy photos of you leaving restaurants, ducking into cars, standing alone in a crowd. Strangers speculating about you, about him, about what went wrong, about whether you were as heartbroken as they hoped you’d be.

And the worst part? You were. You just didn’t want them to know it.

You had never cared about fame—not like that, not in the way the world suddenly seemed to demand from you. You weren’t built for it, for the attention, for the scrutiny, for the way people suddenly decided you were interesting now that you were broken.

It was the lowest you had ever been.

After that, you buried yourself in work, in building something no one could take from you. You stopped trusting the cameras, stopped giving interviews, stopped letting people in. And love? Love became something you didn’t have time for. Something you couldn’t afford.

Not until Joe. But that was another story.

⟢ JULY 2023

The Kelces did the Fourth of July the same way they did everything else—loud, chaotic, and with enough food to feed an army.

The backyard was still a mess from the day’s events. Empty plates stacked on tables, beer bottles scattered across the deck, remnants of water balloons forgotten in the grass. The kids had long since crashed, curled up in the living room after a full day of running around, and your parents had finally turned in for the night. That left just the three of you—Jason, Travis, and you—lingering in the kitchen, picking at the last of the food and settling in for what was, by tradition, gossip hour.

Jason was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking half-exhausted, half-amused as he nursed what was probably his final beer of the night. Kylie had gone upstairs an hour ago, throwing a “don’t let him stay up too late” over her shoulder before disappearing. Travis was still riding the high of a long day—barefoot, tanned from the sun, and grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

You, for your part, were perched on the counter, sipping a Coke because you had a feeling one of you needed to remain at least somewhat coherent.

“So, uh,” Travis started, reaching for the last deviled egg on the platter. “Speaking of cool people, guess who I started talking to?”

Jason shot him a tired look. “Oh, here we go.”

You glanced between them. “What do you mean, talking to?”

Travis grinned. “Taylor Swift.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jason groaned, running a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Trav.”

“What?” Travis said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s not a big deal.”

You snorted. “You just casually dropped Taylor Swift into the conversation like it’s the weather. That’s not normal.”

Jason pointed at you. “Exactly. Thank you.”

Travis rolled his eyes, shoving the deviled egg into his mouth. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been texting. I shot my shot, and what do you know? The Kelce charm works.”

Jason looked unimpressed. “Define ‘texting.’”

Travis chewed thoughtfully. “Like… texting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Travis.”

He smirked. “Okay, fine. I invited her to a game. She didn’t come, but she thought it was funny. We started talking. She’s cool as hell.”

You stared at him, processing. “Hold on. You shot your shot with Taylor Swift—arguably the biggest pop star in the world—by inviting her to a football game?”

Travis shrugged. “I mean, yeah.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I hate that it worked.”

You leaned forward, intrigued now. “Wait, so what do you guys talk about?”

Travis grinned. “Oh, you know. Life. Music. Football. Friendship bracelets.”

Jason made a strangled noise. “I swear to God—”

“I’m serious!” Travis held up his hands. “She thought it was funny! That’s what started it, actually.”

You narrowed your eyes, skeptical. “And how often are you guys texting?”

Travis took a sip of his beer, clearly stalling.

“Travis.”

He sighed dramatically. “Every day. Okay? Happy?”

Jason looked at you, then back at him. “Holy shit. You like her.”

Travis scoffed. “Of course I like her, she’s Taylor fuckin’ Swift.”

“No,” you cut in, pointing at him. “Not just, like, ‘fan’ like her. You actually like her.”

Travis hesitated. And that was all you needed to see.

Jason whistled low, shaking his head. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “Or… it’s gonna be the greatest thing to ever happen to you.”

Travis gave you a look, something half-serious beneath all the usual bravado. “You think?”

You shrugged. “I think you have a long road ahead of you if you actually wanna date Taylor Swift. But if anyone’s got the balls to do it, it’s you.”

Travis sat back, considering that. Then he smirked. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Jason groaned. “Oh God.”

You hopped off the counter, stealing the beer out of Travis’s hand and taking a sip. “I can’t wait for Mom to find out.”

Travis laughed, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

And just like that, the topic shifted—because that was the thing about being a Kelce. No matter how big the news, how crazy the story, at the end of the day, you were just family. Talking shit in the kitchen, making fun of each other, and watching history unfold in real time.

The whole thing kind of unraveled in front of you.

One minute, Travis was dropping Taylor Swift’s name into a conversation like it was nothing, and the next, she was there. Not in a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime, see-her-from-a-distance kind of way—but in the real way. The kind where she was suddenly just… around. Sitting across from you at dinner, feet tucked under her on the couch, sipping a drink at the same backyard parties you had been going to your whole life.

It wasn’t weird, not exactly. It was just happening.

You had been close to fame before, obviously. Jason and Travis had built their careers in the public eye, and you had spent your whole life in and around that world, brushing shoulders with athletes and celebrities who treated your last name like a golden ticket. You knew how to navigate it, how to smile politely and act like it didn’t phase you.

But this was different.

Because this wasn’t just fame. This was Taylor Swift—and she wasn’t just a headline or a name on a stadium marquee. She was here, in your world, existing in it like she belonged. And the strangest part? She kind of did.

You liked her. She was easy to like. Funny, quick-witted, smarter than people probably even realized. She had this way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room when she talked to them. Even you, at times, when she wasn’t entirely preoccupied with Travis.

And, well. That was the thing, wasn’t it?

Because she was preoccupied with Travis.

That was the whole point.

She wasn’t your friend. She wasn’t coming around to hang out with you. She was here for him. And that was fine. It was great, actually. You had never seen your brother like this before—completely, stupidly, out-of-his-mind happy. He glowed around her, and you were happy for him.

But somewhere along the way, you started to notice it.

The third wheel feeling.

It wasn’t obvious at first. Not in the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting and unbelievable.

But then came the dinners where you felt like a spectator to their conversations. The trips where you ended up walking three steps behind them. The inside jokes you weren’t a part of, the glances they shared across rooms like they were in on some secret that you weren’t.

And sure, Travis had always been larger than life. His presence had always been something you had to navigate around. But now? Now, there was them. And you? You were just… there.

It got to the point where even your nieces—who were still young enough to have no filter—started noticing. You’d barely sat down at one of your parents’ Sunday dinners when Wyatt, with all the innocence of a child, looked up at you and asked, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

You had laughed, mostly out of shock, but the sting was still there. And then it happened again. And again.

And that was how Elliot became your best friend.

At just over a year old, she was the only one who didn’t ask why you were always alone, or where your mystery boyfriend was, or when you were going to bring someone home like Travis had. Instead, she was just happy to exist beside you, happy to let you carry her around like a little security blanket when you needed an excuse to step away from them.

You spent more time with her than you did with the adults most nights, letting her babble nonsense at you while you tuned out the rest of the room.

--

Joe Burrow wasn’t born into greatness.

He was born into a world where nothing was guaranteed, where talent didn’t always mean success, where hard work didn’t always lead to the dream. He grew up watching his father grind his way through the football world, moving from coaching job to coaching job, never staying anywhere long enough to feel settled. He understood from a young age that football wasn’t just a game—it was survival. It was everything.

But for most of his life, Joe wasn’t the guy. He wasn’t the five-star recruit, the kid whose name carried weight before he even stepped on the field. He was good—great, even—but great didn’t always mean enough. Ohio State was supposed to be his shot, his moment, the place where he proved himself. Instead, it was where he sat on the bench, waiting for a chance that never came, watching other guys take the field while he tried to convince himself it wasn’t slipping away from him.

There were nights he thought about giving it up. That maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. That maybe football had already given him all it was going to. But he wasn’t built to quit, and when LSU came calling, he took the leap.

That was the moment everything changed.

LSU wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a resurrection. It was the first time he felt like the guy, like he wasn’t just taking up space on a roster but actually belonged there. The game slowed down, the doubt faded, and for the first time in his life, he thought: Maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can be great.

Then came 2019. The season. The Heisman. The national championship. The moment his life shifted from maybe to inevitable. He went from overlooked to undeniable, from backup to first overall pick, from fighting for a shot to standing at the top of the football world.

And somewhere in all of that, there was Olivia.

She had been there from Ohio State, through the struggles, through the late nights spent questioning everything. She was safe, steady, someone who knew him before everything changed. And for a while, that was enough. They built a life together in the in-between spaces of his career—through the transfer, through LSU, through the draft, through the move to Cincinnati.

But something had shifted along the way. Maybe it was the fame, the pressure, the way football consumed everything in its path. Maybe it was the fact that he had spent so long chasing this dream that he didn’t know how to slow down, didn’t know how to be the kind of man who could put something else—someone else—first.

Or maybe they had just grown into different people.

The love had been real. That was never a question. But real didn’t always mean forever, and when the cracks started to show, neither of them could ignore them. The long distance, the late nights, the feeling of being together but not really together. Football had always been his first love, and Olivia had always understood that. But understanding didn’t make it easier.

By the time the breakup happened, it felt inevitable. A quiet ending, no messy headlines, no dramatic fallout. Just two people who had spent years trying to make something work, finally realizing it wasn’t meant to.

Joe had never been one for public spectacle, had never been the guy who wanted his love life picked apart. But that didn’t stop people from talking. From wondering when he’d date again, who he’d be seen with, what kind of woman would fit into the world he had built.

But he wasn’t looking. Football was still everything, still the thing that took up all the space in his life.

At least, until you.

[hirayalore]

Can I please request Sirius with a single mama who happens to be a muggle? He would be such a good daddy 😭😭😭

[ sirius black x muggle!reader | fluff | in an alternate universe wherein there was no wizarding war | 3.1k words ]

note. well this got way longer than intended and yet for some reason still doesn’t feel enough??? anyways halfway through writing this i realized that jily is supposed to be 18 when they got married so for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that they’re in their late 20s hehehe,, hope you’ll like this one! 🫶🏻

Sirius got to meet you through Lily.

The meeting was unexpected, really. It was during the time James and Lily were preparing for the wedding, and Sirius, being the designated best man and all, was tasked to deliver some important items for the ceremony from the Evans home to the Potters. 

He knocked on the front door, clad in his usual attire of faded jeans, black shirt, with a leather jacket worn around his shoulders. His motorbike was still running in the driveway, an indication that he wasn’t planning to stay long, but as soon as you opened the door and locked gazes with him, Sirius suddenly thought that perhaps it would be okay to hang around even for a few minutes or so.

He flashed a smile, a smile he knew turned up the charm and made his handsomeness look a bit devilish, and stepped a bit closer, his hands placing themselves on the front pockets of his pants. “I didn’t get the wrong address, did I?” he asked. “Although if I did, I don’t think I should be in the position to complain.” His smile transformed into an easy smirk.

You stared at him, analyzing him, taking in the sight of his dark tousled hair and the manner in which his piercing eyes looked back at you, before opening the door a bit wider. “I take it that you’re Sirius Black?”

“The very one. And you are?”

“____ ____,” you said your full name, extending a hand out for a handshake but when Sirius took it, he didn’t do what you were expecting him to do.

Instead, he brought it closer to his mouth, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he replied smoothly, prompting your face to feel a bit hot.

As you were about to utter a response, Lily came behind you and saw what was happening. She rolled her eyes and playfully shoved Sirius’ shoulder, causing him to drop your hand. 

“What?” he asked, mock innocence on his features but he was already laughing.

“Don’t even think about it, Black,” she warned, though she too was chuckling. She then handed him the things he came for without delay. “____ is off limits.”

“Why? Is she taken?” he asked, glancing at you as if waiting for you to confirm it yourself.

“No,” Lily answered before you could (again), “but she’s my best friend.”

“And? I’m your fiancé’s best mate. Wouldn’t that technically make us meant to be?” He smirked, eyes flickering to you once more. “Don’t you agree, love? I reckon you’re the maid of honor too—my perfect match as the best man.”

You laughed, a soft melodic sound that he got momentarily mesmerized by. “Well, I see Lily was right about what she told me about you. You do seem like a menace.”

“But charming and handsome nonetheless?”

“Sirius,” Lily walked out of the threshold and began gently pushing him to the direction where the motorbike was parked, “go before I hex you,” she said. “Or worse, uninvite you to the wedding.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave.” He relented, waving a hand before heading to the vehicle and placing the fetched items in the compartment. 

Before he revved the engine, preparing to leave, he gave you one last look which consisted of a rather heart-fluttering grin and a very flirtatious wink.

Lily turned to you as he sped off, already reading what was on your mind. “No,” she said, her tone final.

You laughed. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.” She scoffed with a teasing smile, marching back inside the house and leaving you there, still staring at where Sirius rode away.

****

The next time Sirius got to see you, it was at the wedding itself.

It was a small ceremony. James’ parents were there, all happy and excited for this new chapter of their son’s life, and as for Lily’s family, only her parents came to attend.

Her sister, Petunia, still had an unprovoked dislike towards wizards, a feeling that apparently couldn’t be ignored even for one day in order to be part of her sole sister’s special day.

As for other attendees, aside from some friends they went to school with back at Hogwarts, there were quite a number of Muggle friends and relatives, mostly from Lily’s side. It was for that reason that the event felt… mundane, you could say, with the absence of magical decorations and whatnots—but in the best way possible, as it gave the whole affair a more intimate and solemn feel.

“Padfoot, you’re going to turn into a giraffe if you don’t stop craning your neck like that,” Remus retorted with a chuckle.

Sirius gave him a lopsided smirk, dropping the cigarette between his fingers and extinguishing it on the ground.

He was trying to search for you among the busy crowd, curious on where you might be. It wouldn’t take long before the entourage would be asked to take their positions and he would have the excuse of having your arm latched to his, the both of you ultimately walking across the aisle as the best man and maid of honor.

After a few more giraffe-like actions of trying to catch a glimpse of you, he finally saw you talking with Lily’s parents, a baby girl not more than three years old wearing an adorable dress carried in your arms. He didn’t think much of it, assumed that she was a flower girl, though he did notice a bit of similarities between your appearance and the little lady, such as the shape of your eyes and the color of your hair.

“Excuse me,” Sirius arrived just in time beside you as the Evans went off to greet a relative, “I believe that you’re my partner for the day?” he cheekily said.

His smile was directed to you at first, but it swiftly shifted to the toddler who you still had in your arms.

“This is Esther.” You introduced with a fond grin. “My lovely daughter.”

You watched as his eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“Daughter?” he repeated, though the manner in which he said it had no malice. “Well, that explains the pretty eyes.” He chuckled before doing a courteous prince-like bow to Esther. “Pleasure to be of acquaintance, Ms. Esther.”

Esther giggled, hiding behind your hair in bashfulness, though still peaked as Sirius like she was initiating a prompt peek-a-boo game.

“Where’s this cute one’s dad?” he asked next. You could tell that he was attempting to sound nonchalant about it, as if the question wasn’t being asked to check if you were single or not again despite confirming it last time. It seemed like what he wanted to confirm this time was your current relationship with the father of your child.

You shrugged. “No idea. Probably off at someone else’s bed.”

“I see.” He laughed, sounding a bit too pleased.

When you eyes met again, your lips curved upwards as his eyes twinkled.

****

For the rest of the ceremony, you and Sirius shared conversations then and there. 

You reckoned that without Lily’s focus on you, there was less chances of her reprimanding you if she saw you willingly involve yourself with the heartbreaker that is Sirius Black. You weren’t lying when you said that she had said several things about Sirius prior to your first meeting, all of which involved not letting your guard down and being seduced by his ‘bad boy charm’.

“He’s generally nice,” Lily told you. “As a friend, that is—I can’t say much as a significant other—but I do know that he made loads of girls cry and curse his name back then.”

And as Sirius made you laugh after one joke and another, you could understand why. He was the type of guy who knew what the ladies loved and used it to his advantage; the type who was aware of how good looking he was and yet acted as if he didn’t, this effortless aura surrounding him that pulled you in ever so naturally.

Whenever Esther was whisked away by a friend or any elderly couple that were enamored with the presence of a child, Sirius took it as an opportunity to level up his advances. He’d compliment you, look at you with a gaze that made you a bit weak in the knees, and spoke in a voice that was all velvety and smooth—giving you an even clearer picture that this definitely wasn’t the first time he went his way to woo a woman.

“Look at those two,” you said upon seeing Lily and James sway along the rhythm of the slow music, caught in their own world at the center of the dance floor, “I find it hilarious that he’s the lad she ended up marrying. Do you know how many times she complained about him whenever she came back from Hogwarts?”

Sirius snorted. “Well, in her defense, James was a bloody tosser. He followed her around, trying to get her to go with him for even one date.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yes, but I also heard that he was an arse, always messing with Severus.”

“Oh, you’re familiar with Snivellus?” He appeared amused for a second, daresay proud at the awful nickname—but then realization dawned unto him, and he shifted his expression to a more controlled and behaved one. “I mean, Severus, yes. Severus Snape—I didn’t know you knew him too.”

Your nose wrinkled.

Instead of answering his question, you tilted your head slightly to the side before uttering out what you have been itching to say since he began blatantly showing interest to you. “I know your reputation, Sirius,” you began, “and I’ll have you know that I have no time for funny business.”

“Great. Neither do I.”

“I have a daughter.”

“Yes, as you have introduced me to the little one earlier.”

“And does that not bother you? Or do you like knowing that you can have someone with a child wrapped around your finger?”

His features softened in an instant. “Love, I don’t know what you exactly heard from Lily, but I’ll tell you this. I won’t deny how much of a menace I’ve been when we were still studying, but it has also been a few years since we graduated. I’m not entirely the same lad as I was.”

You were skeptical. No matter how talking to him throughout the evening gave enough proof to support his case (he did prove that he was a man of substance and who knew how to lead a meaningful conversation), you were also wary of putting all your trust in him. After all, this wasn’t the first time that a man charmed you and made the implication that he was going to treat you the best, only to flee the moment you made it apparent that you needed him.

“Okay,” you said.

Sirius chuckled. “Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“As it’s supposed to be.” You shrugged. “It’s a free country. You can do anything you want, as they say.”

****

It has been 11 months since Sirius and you became a couple officially.

Was Lily mad?

She was furious. She scolded you nonstop for days, saying how she didn’t lack in warning you about Sirius and that you should be careful about letting men in your life, especially since the last man you let in was not only an embarrassment, but someone who had made it apparent that not everyone can stay true to their promises.

She was right, of course. You weren’t naive and you for sure were smarter this time around. There was no moment that you ever made it easy for Sirius the second he declared his intentions with you, always being transparent of your feelings and whenever he did something that you didn’t like. Your mindset was always that if he were to give up because of your ‘pickiness’ or ‘unrealistic’ demands, then it would save you the time of investing your feelings yet again to the wrong person.

But Sirius was a different breed. He was persistent. He met each ridiculous request with ease and listened to every concern you addressed to him with commendable willingness to change. Though there were still moments wherein his inherent mischievousness jumped out, when his sharp tongue rolled out at the presence of others and you saw a side of him that you didn’t particularly like—at the end, Sirius knew when to apologize and how to show you that he wasn’t all talk in saying that he was ready to change for the better for you.

As for his relationship with Esther… well, you thought that was the most compelling thing about being with Sirius, just seeing him effortlessly take on the role of her father figure without being asked to.

“Oh, Merlin, you must be the most adorable little lady in the world, darling,” Sirius cooed at Esther as he adjusted the backpack worn behind her shoulders, dressed in light denim overalls with a white shirt underneath.

She was going on a trip with your brother, along with his wife and two kids, and was going to be picked up a few minutes from now. Sirius had insisted the night prior to sleeping at your place to help you pack Esther’s things, given how the trip was going to last three days, and when you woke up this morning to prepare breakfast and some snacks she could bring, saw that Sirius had already prepared it for you.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” you mused.

“I don’t.”

“Then how—” you cut yourself off at the reminder of him being like Lily, a wizard, and the sight of the smirk plastered on his face. “Right, right. Almost forgot about that one.”

“Sirius,” you heard your daughter chime while you checked her belongings, making sure that everything was set, “will you still be here when I get back?”

Sirius smoothed her hair. “Hm, that depends, love. You know I don’t actually live here, don’t you?” He teased her.

“But you’s always sleeping here!”

“Yes, because I like spending time with your mum.” He chuckled. “And you, of course. You can’t quite sleep without me reading you your favorite storybook.”

She nodded. “Tha’s ‘cause I likes it when you read it.”

“More than you like listening to Mummy?” You jumped in the conversation, crossing your arms in fake hurt. “I’m wounded, darling.  Aren’t I supposed to be your favorite?”

Esther grinned rather sheepishly. “You’s still are, Mummy. But when Sirius reads me my storybooks, he makes the characters all come to life!”

Before you could process the implication of what she said, two loud honks from a vehicle outside announced your brother’s arrival and Sirius was quick to take advantage of the distraction, ushering you to greet your brother outside while he helped with bringing Esther’s things to the car.

Once all things were settled, you kissed Esther’s cheek goodbye, a wet smooch that she giggled to, and said your farewells to your brother, his wife, and your two nieces that you hugged tightly and gave sweet kisses to as well before you stepped back in the driveway, waving as they drove off.

You turned your heel around the second the car was far enough, looking at Sirius who was leaning casually on the door frame of the front door.

“What?” he asked, but you knew that he was already aware of what the look meant.

You reached him as you entered the small house. “Do you use magic whenever you’re reading books to Esther?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“No, absolutely not.”��

You raised an eyebrow, in which Sirius finally grinned. 

“Okay, maybe sometimes.” He yielded. “But I promise, it’s all harmless. I just make the drawings move and run around her bedroom.”

“You…” a sigh escaped your mouth at his statement, “you make the drawings move? And, and run?”

He nodded. “It’s a simple charm, really. Makes Esther all excited too. Sometimes she even requests that I make them life sized so she could play with them.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“Well, she’s a kid, so I reckon she’d blame it to her imagination if she ever does remember this in the future.” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but laugh too, seeing his point yet still being in disbelief at the reality of all of this. You were never that weirded out by magic—in fact, you were amazed by the existence of it—but as someone who grew up with completely mundane stuff, you still couldn’t grasp its possibility and how casual Sirius was whenever the topic arose.

“You’re lucky she adores you, Sirius,” you told him, laughing and shaking your head. “If not, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself out of this one.”

The grin was still on his mouth as he gently hauled you closer to him. “What can I say? My charisma is universal.”

“I think I beg to differ.” 

“Oh, are you saying that it doesn’t work on you? You haven’t fallen for my irresistible allure yet?”

“And if I were to say no?”

He kissed you, slow and lingering, enough to make your head spin a bit at how his lips moved with cognizance of what you liked. When he pulled back, he flashed you a rakish smirk that had you weak in the knees.

“Then I’ll have to change that. Can’t have Esther’s gorgeous mother not fall for me, can’t we?”

“You’ll survive.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Another kiss. You grinned at how you could feel the intent behind the gesture.

“But seriously,” you pulled back momentarily to look him deeply in the eyes, “thanks for being there for Esther. I appreciate how you make her laugh and all. I can see that she likes being with you.”

He smiled in response. It was sincere and warm, a side of him that you have come to witness and love for the past months. “No need to thank me, darling. The kid isn’t hard to adore either. I’d say I’m honored to be part of her life.”

You continued to gaze at Sirius, his words making you feel fuzzy and gooey inside. You never thought you’d get to this point of yours and his relationship. You always assumed that he was going to get tired one way or another, or perhaps realize that dating a single mother was not for him, but here he was, smitten with you and treating your daughter as if she was his own.

“Fine, I’ll take it back.” You slyly pulled the collar of his shirt down so you could be the one to kiss him, Sirius smirking against you as you did. “Maybe I’m not immune to your irresistible allure after all.”

He laughed, the beat of his heart syncing with yours. 

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[illbegottenfaith]

for the rose and the pearl (a I'm Not That Girl inspired fic)

attending Mattheo's wedding with Theo makes you realise you're not the girl he could truly build a happy life with (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - so my plan to write shorter drabbles backfired spectacularly 😭😭 I'm suchhh a slut for multiple meanings in a theme - I'm not that girl who's just going to cheer you on from the sidelines. I'm not that girl who's pretty/glamorous to be on your arm. IM NOT THAT GIRL WHO STILL KNOWS HOW TO LOVE YOU 😭😭😭😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :)))

tropes/warnings - angst, tw alcohol

word count - 2.6k

taglist - @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife @anikatcmh @starkeyszn @natbat666 @ebriton @shrekstoesblog @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @thaliashifts

True to his word, Theo let you pay for your dress. And yet, a week before the wedding, you receive a charming set of pearls, courtesy of one Mr. Theodore Nott.

"Thin ice," you say to him as a means of greeting at the wedding. He bends down to kiss your cheek in hello, and when he steps back you see him grinning. His gaze flicks down to the pearls around your neck.

"Whatever for?"

After the quick hello, he's almost immediately pulled away again into his best man duties. You drift around, saying hi to a few familiar faces. In fact, you only find him again while exploring the venue.

You spy the groomsmen gathered near the entrance of the reception hall, a loose circle of dark suits and polished shoes, some fixing their cornflower boutonnieres, others already nursing drinks.

Theo stands in the middle of them, one hand in his pocket, looking effortlessly put together with his crisp sky-blue pocket square - that is, except for the small white rose in his hand, still separate from his lapel. He rolls it between his fingers absently, half-listening to whatever joke Enzo is telling.

You know you shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t notice the way it’s just slightly crumpled from where he’s been holding it for too long, fidgeting with it restlessly, like he hasn’t thought to ask for help, like he’s waiting for someone else to step in.

“Here,” you say anyway, stepping forward before you can think better of it.

Theo barely reacts as you pluck the flower out of his slack grip. He only shifts slightly, angling himself toward you, allowing you to close the space between you as you pin it into place.

You focus on the task at hand, on the fine, expensive fabric beneath your fingers, on making sure the flower is positioned just right. You don’t look at him, and if you feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, you don't show it.

But he looks at you.

You feel it - the weight of his gaze, the way he watches you like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to be doing this for him, the way you've done it a hundred times before.

And that’s when it appears. That quiet, unwelcome thought.

This isn’t who I am anymore.

Because it’s not just a boutonniere. It’s the way this feels too familiar, too easy - slipping into an old version of yourself, one who smoothed Theo’s collar without thinking, who fixed his tie before he headed out the door, the one who looked after him like it was just second nature.

Years have passed. You thought you had clawed out, escaped, and yet the second he comes running back to you, you’re back here, in his orbit, making sure he looks good for a moment that isn’t even yours.

And the worst part? He anticipates it.

Not in an entitled way. Not because he thinks it’s your job. But because this is how it’s always been. Because he still sees you as that girl. The one who stands beside him, just slightly behind. The one who makes things easier for him. The one who's ready to cheer him on from the sidelines. The one who's agreeable enough to not take up any more space than he could afford.

But that's just it, wasn't it? You weren't ready to give up a life of your own for his. You tolerated it until you started resenting him for it. He hadn't understood it then. He probably didn't understand it now. Either way, it didn't matter. It was too late.

“There.” You finish pinning the boutonniere, stepping away before the moment can stretch too thin.

Theo glances down at it briefly, then back at you. His lips part, like he might say something. But then someone else claps him on the back, congratulating him on something, and just like that, the moment passes.

You slip away, back into the crowd, back into yourself.

You don’t look back.

The wedding is beautiful and the reception is a vivid, lively affair. You run into so many old friends and made so many new ones that you hardly felt the lack of Theo. You rather enjoy the swing band, but now the music is shifting into something slow, sweeping - a song made for moments like this.

Couples drift onto the dance floor, drawn in by the soft pull of violin strings bathed in candlelight. You’re content watching from your seat, half-listening to the slightly obscure conversation at your table until a hand extends into your view.

Theo.

You hadn't seen him since his toast, after which his attention had been demanded by a thousand other people for reasons that had nothing to do with his fame. Even at Hogwarts, people seemed drawn in by his aloof sincerity despite his somewhat reserved demeanour. You didn't mind watching him thrive in his element - you were more than happy in the company of the sparkling liquor at your table and friends-of-friends you'd only heard of.

Now, you blink up at him, a little dazed. Perhaps it would have been wise to stay a little more sober. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a shadow in his dark eyes. A quiet insistence.

“Dance with me.”

It’s not really a question. Your first instinct is to say no, but something in the way he looks at you makes you pause.

So you take his hand.

His palm is warm with a familiar roughness as it guides yours. He leads you onto the dance floor with a practiced ease, slotting a hand against your waist as if this is something you've done a hundred times before. As if this is something you still do.

It shouldn’t feel so effortless. It shouldn’t be this easy, falling into step with him. But it is.

The rest of the room falls away.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence between you isn’t unfamiliar—it’s lived in, worn down by time. But it doesn’t settle the way it used to. There’s something restless underneath, roaming and nervous. You wonder if he can feel it too.

His hand tightens slightly at your waist, the smallest of gestures, but it makes something twist deep in your chest.

“People will talk,” you murmur, more to fill the space than anything else.

He doesn’t even glance around. “Let them.”

Easy for him to say. He more than looks the part of someone meant to be here - sharp suit, easy confidence, the kind of presence that draws attention like gravity. He belongs in ways you can only dream of.

Your dress is simple. Pretty, but not remarkable. Not the kind of thing people would take a second look at. And yet, standing beside him, in the center of the dance floor, you can feel the weight of glances which linger too long.

You know what they see.

A girl in borrowed glamour, playing pretend in someone else’s world. A fleeting guest on the arm of someone who’s only ever been untouchable. They’re probably wondering the same thing you are - why he asked you to dance in the first place.

You draw Theo closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press your cheek into the crook of his neck. Anything to hide your face from him. For the first time in years, you feel inadequate.

“Relax.” You feel Theo's voice vibrate through his chest, low, almost amused, like he can read every thought passing through your mind.

"I am," you rasp. It's an unconvincing sound even to your own ears. Y

ou begin to wish you hadn't agreed to this. It was a stupid reminder of the trophy wife you never knew how to be.Despite what he might think, you hadn't abandoned your relationship at the first sign of strife. You tried - Merlin, you tried - squeezing yourself into a box to make even more room for him. But eventually, you had to accept that you just weren't that girl - the one who was glamorous yet self-fulfilled enough to be seen on his arm.

He imperceptibly slides his hand up your back. “You look fine.”

It’s a throwaway comment, a dismissive sort of reassurance. It shouldn’t matter. And yet, you feel the familiar sting of something old, something buried, something you promised yourself to forget. A part of you missed this, missed him, so here you were, play-acting at being man and wife.

The music swells, and he turns you effortlessly in time with it. You move like muscle memory, feet gliding through the motions without thinking.

Maybe this is why you said yes - because of the way his hand fits against yours, or the way his gaze softens when he thinks you’re not looking. Because the two of you can't help but work this well together.

You exhale, carefully schooling your expression into something even as you pull back to face him. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

Theo’s mouth lifts at the corner—barely a smirk, but there’s something knowing in it. He doesn’t reply.

The song begins to fade, the final notes melting into the hum of the reception. Theo slows to a stop, fingers loosening around yours, and something flickers in his expression. Like he wants to say something. Like he’s looking at you - really looking, as if for the first time.

But then someone calls his name from across the room. His attention flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough. The moment shifts and dissolves.

Tomorrow you'll wake up in a cold, empty bed with aching feet. The both of you will go back to living your separate lives, but each night you'll wonder if tonight was a dream that never really happened.

You step back, slipping out of his hold before he can do it first. Before the silence between you turns into something else.

“Thanks for the dance,” you say lightly, already turning.

You don’t look back to see if he watches you go. And if your hands still feel warm where he held them, well - that’s nobody’s business but yours.

The reception hall is empty now, save for the two of you. The candles have burned low, wax pooling in their gilded holders, and the last of the champagne sits in your glass, its fizz whispering in the quiet. The music stopped a while ago. So did the dancing, the toasts, and the laughter of people whose love doesn’t come with fine print and hidden clauses.

But you’re still here. And so is Theo.

He’s warm beside you, your shoulder tucked into his as he leans back in his chair, one arm slung lazily across the back of yours. The night has left you both a little drunk, a little drowsy, a little too comfortable in each other’s company. Even with the buzz of the drinks, it's getting harder and harder to ignore the chill creeping up your arms. You don’t remember when you started leaning into him, but he hasn’t moved away. You hope he doesn't anytime soon.

He turns his head, eyeing what's left of the extravagantly lavish cake. "Seven tiers, half of which will go uneaten," Theo mutters, voice threaded with amusement. "It is Mattheo's wedding, after all. Why have enough when you can have far too much?"

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head against his shoulder. "Like you're one to talk about...excesses."

Theo gives a long-suffering sigh.

"Is that what you think of me? Excessive?"

"I think," you say in a tone of faux innocence, "you don't want to know what I think of you."

He groans and throws his head back, eliciting a laugh from you. It's a strangely effective balm, this good-natured ribbing, or maybe it's the alcohol. You swirl the last sip of champagne in your glass. The gold catches the light, shimmering against the crystal, and you think—not for the first time tonight��how easy this is. How easy it always was with him.

Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s the fact that the wedding is over, and yet you’re still here, wrapped up in Theo like a memory, like you’ve forgotten that you were just supposed to be his date for the night.

"You’re warm," you murmur, shifting slightly to press closer.

He huffs a laugh. "You’re drunk."

"Just tipsy." You look up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. "Big difference."

The alcohol has made your consciousness deliciously blurry. You become aware of the cold, rigid surface of your shoes pressing against your aching feet. In your mind's eye, you see your slippers melting off your feet, clear as glass, dripping diamonds which promise to wound your feet.

But you're still curled up with Theo, perched on some delicate fence between exes or something more, and even now, years on, you know he won't let you fall - he never did and he never would.

If only things were the same with you.

You were no longer the girl who knew how to love Theo the way you once did, wholly and purely. You wished you were. Tears gather under your eyelashes like crystals, heavy with remorse. You wished you knew how. For the love of God, wouldn't someone tell you how?

He watches you for a beat longer than he should.

And then his hand comes up, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. His knuckles ghost over your jaw, then his fingers slip beneath your chin, tilting your face toward his.

You should stop him.

But the champagne is warm in your veins, his bedroom eyes are the worst kind of drug and the way he looks at you—like he still remembers exactly how you take your tea, like he still knows how to make you laugh even when you don’t want to—makes you hesitate just long enough for his lips to brush yours.

It’s not desperate. Not hurried. Just a quiet thing, lingering at the edges of something once lost.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into it.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget.

But then the thought creeps in—quiet, insidious.

I’m not that girl.

Not the girl he wants or the girl he needs.

You pull away before the thought can swallow you whole.

Theo blinks, exhaling like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. It almost sounds like disappointment. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with something unreadable in his eyes.

You don’t resent him for this. Not anymore.

It’s not his fault you still feel the echoes of something that should have faded years ago.

And it’s not your fault that you know better now.

[archangeldyke-all]

hii idk if you’re still writing the cowboy sevika fics but i’m actually obsessed with them you have no idea!! anyway i was thinking a fluffy little fic about sevika being depressed after shimmers death and reader, vi, and jinx do their best to cheer her up/support her!! do whatever you want i’ll literally take anything i just love your characters so much🙏🙏

YEEHAWWWW i miss cowboy sevika

men and minors dni

it's been a month since you and your girls buried shimmer by your garden. not a night has passed where sevika hasn't cried herself to sleep in your arms. it's breaking your heart.

watching shimmer die was hard enough. you were never much of a horse person before meeting sevika's trusty mare, but shimmer converted you. before sevika settled down with you; one of your greatest comforts when she was out wandering the desert was that she had shimmer there with her. the horse was so in tune with sevika, and they'd been riding together for so long, that they practically moved as one. you worried less about sevika losing her mind when she had shimmer to listen to her rambling. you worried less about her losing her life when she had shimmer to run her back home to you if she ever got too beat up.

and as sweet as sevika is when she claims you're her best friend-- you know that title really belongs to shimmer.

"we should do somethin' for sev." vi mumbles one night. jinx is fast asleep between the pair of you, after insisting she wasn't tired for an hour straight.

"like what?" you ask.

vi shrugs. "cait and her dad go hunting sometimes."

you giggle. "you're crazy if you think we're giving jinx a gun."

vi laughs. "no, no, we wouldn't hunt. we could just, y'know, go camping or something. there are some cold springs thirty miles west of here."

"and how would we get there without a horse?"

"we could borrow one of grayson's." vi suggests.

you smile and turn to face her. "you've been planning this?" you ask. she smiles guiltily.

"sevika's just been so sad. i wanna cheer her up."

your heart bursts with love and you dart forward, squeezing jinx between your body and vi's as you attempt to hug her. vi giggles. jinx wakes up with an annoyed groan.

so, a week later, you, your wife, and your girls set out with a horse drawn wagon and one of grayson's newest additions: a young colt named 'teddy.' grayson was happy to lend you the horse, muttering something about him being a pain in the ass to train. "if there's anyone i know who can get through to a stubborn horse like teddy, it's sevika." she sighed.

the ride out to the springs is rocky and bumpy, sevika getting used to riding a horse that isn't shimmer-- teddy being an ass just for the hell of it. at least the girls find it fun. their giggles and squeals are the soundtrack for your entire ride to the springs. even with all the curses she's spewing at teddy, sevika looks more relaxed than she has in weeks back on top of a horse.

"what're we even gonna do once we get there?" jinx asks. you snort and ruffle her bangs.

"well, i'm going swimming. you losers can do whatever you want." you say. the girls giggle.

"do you think there are cliffs we can jump off of?" vi asks. you shrug.

"i'm sure we can find some. we've got a whole river to explore."

"none of you are doing any exploring until we set up camp and get a fire going." sevika huffs from on top of teddy's back.

"boo! boring." jinx whines.

'setting up camp' ends up being sevika building the tent and jinx feeding teddy while you and vi attempt to make a fire the old fashioned way.

"how did the cavemen ever do this?" vi huffs as she rubs two sticks together. you snort.

"i'm sure they had tools. blubber to make it catch better, or something."

vi rolls her eyes. "i don't understand why she won't just give us her lighter."

you laugh and look up at sevika as she wipes her sweaty brow. "she doesn't trust us not to burn down the whole riverbed."

"or she's just bossy." vi mutters. you cackle.

"i think you're right, kid."

you don't make it into the river on your first night, but you don't mind much. when the sun sets, the heat of summer fades and the cool dark forces you all to squish together on a log in front of the fire while sevika cooks up beans and weenies on the fire.

"is that a planet or a star?" vi asks. jinx looks up and hums.

"i think it's venus."

"yeah?"

"i think so. sev?" jinx asks.

sevika glances up at the sky, smiling proudly and ruffling jinx's bangs. "you nailed it, kiddo."

"what constellations are out tonight, sev?" jinx asks, tucking herself under your wife's arm. sevika hums, leaning back to study the sky.

you don't bother to look at the sky. pretty as the stars are, they're nothing compared to the sight of your three girls, cuddled together and illuminated in the firelight.

"follow my finger. you see those three stars close together?" sevika whispers, her voice melding with the crackle of the fire and the roar of the river.

"yeah." vi whispers. jinx nods against sevika's shoulder.

sevika drags her finger across the sky. "see how they lead into a cross? there?"

"is that the northern cross?" jinx asks. sevika nods, her smile growing.

"you know it. anyways, the cross is in the center of cygnus the swan. backbone of the milky way." sevika's eyes flick down and catch yours, and she smiles shyly. you grin. there are more stars in her eyes than in the whole night sky.

you spend the next day in the river with the girls, laughing and splashing and squealing when fish nibble your ankles. vi and sevika ride upriver to try to find cliffs to jump off of, and you teach jinx how to doggy paddle. when the girls return, they're soaking wet and cackling.

that evening, with the girls fast asleep in the tent, you and sevika smoke a joint and go skinny dipping.

"did you have fun with vi?" you ask, your arms and legs wrapped around your wife. sevika giggles against you.

"i shouldn't tell you." she says. you giggle.

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"means she almost jumped onto some rocks several fucking times. gave me a heart attack."

you groan, shaking your head. "no, you shouldn't've told me." you agree. sevika giggles.

"but, we both lived, didn't we?" she asks. you laugh.

"y'know we're gonna have to adopt teddy from grayson?" you ask. sevika snorts.

"what makes you say that?"

"jinx is obsessed with him. braided and un-braided his mane like six times today. calls him 'teddy bear.' plus..." you trail off.

sevika darts forward to kiss you. you hum against her lips. "plus?" she asks, her lips brushing yours.

"plus, you need a new horse. you look good in the saddle."

sevika hums and kisses you again. "you take such good care of me. how am i supposed to keep up my bandit appearance when i got a wife that talks me into adoptin' horses and takes me out on vacation?"

you laugh. "you haven't been a bandit in half a decade. and the vacation was violet's idea. she was worried about you."

sevika sighs and leans forward to rest her forehead against your shoulder. "you still take good care of me." she says. you kiss her scalp.

"well... y'know. you're my dingus the duck."

"your what?!" sevika asks with a cackle. you groan and shrug.

"i dunno, those stars you were talking about last night!" you whine.

"cygnus the swan!?" she asks. you nod.

"that's the one."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" she asks though her laughs. you snort.

"y'know. you're the backbone of my galaxy, or whatever."

sevika's teasing expression melts, stars sparkling in her eyes. "that's awfully corny, darling." she whispers, her voice shaky with emotion. you smile.

"what the-- what are you two doing?!" vi squawks from the riverbank. you and sevika giggle guiltily, caught by your kids canoodling in the cold springs.

"go back to the tent!" you shout.

"awe, gross, are you guys naked!?" jinx whines.

sevika snorts. "we all bathed together three hours ago!"

"yeah, but you guys weren't all up on each other-- vi, let's go before we overhear something nasty." jinx groans, tugging on her sister's arm.

violet laughs and stumbles behind jinx. "don't drown!" she calls.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[kaiyunsim]

best lover —

pairing : bf!taesan x gn!reader

summary : after taesan works hard for the newest comeback you wanted to get him a gift... something perfect. but you don't know what exactly to get him so you get help from his roommate.

warnings : fluff, angst (just a little bit), tense confrontation, some music references, taesan gets kinda jealous, kind of a continuation of this fic

a/n : this lowkey made me relapse into the emo/punk genre and now i'm actively listening to them again ! taesan so silly here.

queueing : best lover - bibi, and july - heize + dean

[requested]

— wc : 4.8k — not proof read —

you’ve always known taesan was cool.

not in the tryhard way, not in the way people force an image to seem untouchable. no, he’s effortlessly cool. the kind of cool that comes from simply existing, from being so unapologetically himself that it draws people in.

his aesthetic is proof of that—dark clothes, silver rings, an ever-growing collection of band tees that he claims aren’t a collection but still seem to multiply every time you see him. his playlists are filled with gritty guitar riffs and melancholic lyrics, songs that feel like they belong in a coming-of-age film.

you love it. you love the way he leans against walls like a movie character, the way his fingers tap out drum beats on tables when he’s lost in thought. the way his voice gets softer when he talks about music, when he lets his guard down just enough for you to see the warmth underneath.

so, when their comeback is finally announced, when you see the hours of training, late-night rehearsals, and exhaustion culminate into something incredible, you know you need to do something. something that says, i see you. i see how hard you’ve worked, and i’m proud of you.

but what do you get someone like taesan?

he’s never been the type to want extravagant gifts. he shrugs off praise, mumbles “it’s nothing” when people tell him he’s done well. but you know he keeps every little note fans give him, that he still has the random trinkets the members bought him over the years.

so it has to be something personal. something that actually means something.

you think about it for days, running through ideas in your head. clothes? no, too easy. he already has everything he likes. accessories? maybe, but he’s picky, and you don’t trust yourself to pick out something he’d actually wear.

and then it hits you.

vinyls.

taesan loves music in a way that’s deeper than just listening. he collects records, always talking about how certain albums sound different on vinyl, how the warmth and crackle make it feel more alive. you’ve seen the way he runs his fingers over the covers, the way he carefully places them on his turntable like he’s handling something sacred.

but you don’t know enough about it.

you know the bands he listens to, sure, but not the specific pressings, not which editions are worth having, not which ones he’s been searching for. you need help.

so, you text the only person who would know and would be the most help.

sungho.

—

you: hey, random question, but do you think you could help me with something?

he replies almost immediately.

sungho: depends. am i gonna regret saying yes?

you snort. typical.

you: no, it’s for taesan. i wanna get him some vinyls, but i don’t know which ones he’d actually want.

a pause. then—

sungho: oh. you’re going ot make him a happy boyfriend for sure. sungho: yeah, i can help. you free tomorrow?

relief washes over you.

you: yeah. thanks, sungho. seriously.

sungho: don’t thank me yet. wait till we actually find something good.

you smile, pocketing your phone.

this is a good plan. a perfect plan.

now, you just have to keep it a secret.

the next morning, you wake up with a nervous excitement buzzing under your skin.

taesan is still half-asleep when you see him, his hair messy from sleep, the collar of his oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. he looks soft like this, different from his usual sharp edges and guarded expressions.

“morning,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can grumble in protest.

he mumbles something incoherent, eyes still closed, before reaching out and lazily wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you laugh, poking his side. “i have to go out for a bit.”

that wakes him up a little. his eyes blink open, groggy but alert. “where?”

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to play it cool. “just running errands.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t question it. instead, he just tightens his grip around you for a moment before letting go.

“be safe,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

your heart squeezes at that.

you brush his hair out of his face, letting your fingers linger for a second longer than necessary. “always.”

—

meeting up with sungho feels like a mission.

he’s already waiting outside the taesan's dorm room, dressed casually but still effortlessly put together, a stark contrast to the slightly chaotic energy you’re bringing with you.

“you look nervous,” he says, amused.

“because i am.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just vinyl shopping.”

“yeah, but it’s for taesan,” you stress. “i can’t mess this up. i need to find something perfect.”

sungho rolls his eyes but leads the way inside the vinyl store, hidden in the corners of the busy streets.

the moment you step in, you’re overwhelmed.

rows and rows of records stretch out in front of you, organized into sections you barely understand. the store smells like old paper and something nostalgic, a quiet hum of music playing from the speakers.

sungho glances at you. “you know what bands he likes, right?”

you nod. “yeah, but i don’t know what he already has.”

“then we start with the basics.”

he guides you through the aisles, pointing out albums that fit taesan’s taste. some are obvious bands you’ve seen on his playlists, artists you recognize from the posters in his room. others, not so much.

“this one’s a classic,” sungho says, pulling out a worn-looking album. “he’s mentioned it before, i think he even has a t-shirt of them.”

it was the black parade by my chemical romance

you take it from him, running your fingers over the cover. “do you think he already has the vinyl?”

sungho shakes his head. “nah, he would’ve bragged about it if he did.”

you smile at that. taesan isn’t the bragging type, not really, but when it comes to things he loves, he can’t help but share them with you. you can already picture the way his eyes will light up when he sees the gift, the way he’ll trace the album cover with careful fingers before hugging you in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

this is good. this is exactly what you wanted.

you glance at sungho. “i think we’re on the right track.”

he smirks. “told you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin.

this is going to be perfect.

if you can keep it a secret long enough.

you flip through the stacks carefully, the plastic sleeves crinkling under your fingertips as you skim the selection. rows of album covers stare back at you, some bold and vibrant, others muted and mysterious, each one a different piece of someone’s story.

sungho stands beside you, already pulling out records with ease, flipping them over to check editions and pressings like it’s second nature.

“how do you even know all this?” you ask, watching as he inspects a black-and-white cover, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes his head and puts it back.

he smirks. “taesan’s not the only one with taste, you know.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, but you act like this is your second home.”

he hums, running his fingers along the edge of a shelf. “it kinda is. when i first moved into the dorms, i’d come to places like this just to kill time. got to know a lot about music that way.”

that makes sense. sungho has that effortless, older-brother energy, the kind that makes you feel like he’s always been one step ahead of everyone else. but even so, you know there’s more to it. something about the way he says it, like music was a comfort rather than just a hobby.

you glance down at the album in your hands. the artwork is dramatic, painted in deep reds and blacks, the kind of thing you could easily imagine taesan leaving out on his desk just because it looks cool. it was titled a fever you can’t sweat out this time, by panic at the disco

you hesitate. “what about this one?”

sungho looks over, and to your relief, he nods in approval. “solid pick. taesan likes them. they have that whole raw, gritty sound he’s into.”

you exhale, setting it aside in the growing pile of vinyls you’ve picked out. “good. i was kinda guessing.”

sungho snickers. “if you were completely guessing, you would’ve picked something embarrassing.”

you give him a flat look. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“you sure? no boyband vinyls hidden in that stack?”

“why are you acting like that would be a crime?”

he laughs, shaking his head. “nah, but taesan would probably combust.”

you grin at the thought. he probably would. his whole tough, brooding image crumbling the second someone dared to associate him with anything remotely bright and upbeat. you’ve teased him about it before, played pop songs in his presence just to watch him pretend he wasn’t listening.

but this isn’t about teasing him. this is about him.

you glance around the store, taking in the dim lighting, the faint sound of a record spinning in the background. a few other customers linger nearby, flipping through vinyls with the same careful reverence, but none of them seem rushed. it’s the kind of place taesan would get lost in, taking his time with every shelf, soaking in the atmosphere.

you wish he was here.

you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep.

“okay,” you say, straightening up. “i think i need at least one more.”

sungho scans the shelves before reaching over and pulling out a record without hesitation.

“this.”

you take it from him, studying the cover. it’s striking… american idiot by greenday.

“he’s been looking for this one,” sungho explains. “i remember him complaining about how it’s always out of stock.”

your chest warms. “then that’s perfect.”

sungho grins. “congrats, you officially have a good gift… or multiple”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “thanks for the approval.”

“anytime.”

you head to the counter, placing the records down carefully as the cashier rings them up. the prices make you wince a little. vinyl collecting is not cheap. but you don’t hesitate. taesan is worth it.

when you step back outside, the air feels cooler, a slight breeze brushing against your skin. sungho stretches beside you, squinting up at the sky.

“so,” he says. “how are you planning to give it to him?”

you blink. “uh. just... give it to him?”

he gives you a flat look. “you’re really bad at this.”

“excuse me?”

“c’mon,” he says. “you go through all this trouble, sneak around just to surprise him, and you’re just gonna hand it to him like it’s a bag of chips?”

you frown. “what am i supposed to do? make a scavenger hunt?”

“i mean, that would be funny.”

“sungho.”

he chuckles. “fine, fine. but at least make it a moment, you know? like, put them in a nice box or something. set the mood a little.”

you consider that. he’s right. you don’t just want this to be a casual exchange. you want taesan to feel how much this means.

“okay,” you say slowly. “i’ll think of something.”

sungho pats your shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, i’m telling him i helped.”

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.”

his grin is downright evil. “try me.”

you groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs.

but despite the teasing, there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. because for all the effort, all the second-guessing, all the overthinking. you know this is the right thing to do.

you just hope taesan sees it that way, too.

you and sungho are now wandering the streets, bags in hand, the weight of them a constant reminder of what you're keeping from taesan. there's a knot in your stomach, anxiety creeping in at the thought of what will happen once you return to the dorm.

sungho notices you fidgeting with your phone, eyes flicking between your screen and the road ahead. "you've been checking your messages like every two seconds," he says with a knowing smile. "taesan giving you trouble?"

"i... i don’t know," you mutter, glancing at your phone again. "he hasn’t texted yet. i think he’s mad."

sungho snorts. "he’s always mad."

you roll your eyes but can't help the tension building inside you. it's not like taesan to be suspicious like this. sure, he's possessive at times, but you’ve always been upfront with him. today, though, everything feels off. you know he’s probably wondering where you are, especially after leaving so abruptly.

after a few more moments of walking, your phone buzzes in your hand. it’s a message from taesan.

you open it quickly, your heart dropping when you read the text.

taesan: where are you?

you can almost hear the frustration in his words, even though they’re so short. you hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. the last thing you want is to reveal anything.

“everything okay?” sungho asks, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

“yeah,” you say quickly, typing back a response. "just... running… errands…"

you: just out. why?

you hit send and try to push the worry away. but it doesn’t help when your phone buzzes again, another message from taesan.

taesan: are you by yourself?

your stomach tightens. it feels like he’s fishing for something, trying to confirm his suspicions. you swallow hard. taesan doesn’t know you’re out with sungho. he probably thinks you’re just alone, maybe out with someone else. the thought of him jumping to conclusions makes you tense up.

“you need to tell him the truth, man,” sungho says, half-joking but still serious. “it’s gonna be hard to keep it up much longer.”

you bite your lip, looking at the text again. taesan doesn’t like being kept in the dark. but if you tell him you're out with sungho, there's no way you can keep the surprise a secret.

you: yeah, just me. out by myself.

you send the message quickly, almost immediately regretting it. the lie feels wrong in your gut, but you can’t risk ruining the surprise.

as soon as you hit send, another text from taesan comes through.

taesan: you didn’t tell me where you went. it’s weird, you know. don’t lie to me.

your heart sinks. this is exactly what you were afraid of. you can feel his frustration radiating through the words, even though they’re brief. taesan might not say it outright, but you know he’s pissed.

“is he mad?” sungho asks, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the screen again. “he thinks i’m lying.”

sungho tilts his head, his expression softening. “well, you kind of are...”

you groan, feeling guilty. “yeah, but if i tell him the truth, he’ll know what we’re really doing.”

sungho sighs but doesn’t press. “you’ve got to be careful, though. taesan can’t stand being lied to. he might feel like you’re hiding something else.”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety aside. “he’s just overthinking it. i’ll deal with it when we get back.”

you walk in silence for a bit longer, and the weight of the lie is starting to feel unbearable. but then your phone buzzes again. it’s from taesan.

taesan: riwoo just told me you’re out with sungho. why didn’t you say that?

your heart stops. it feels like everything is crashing down around you. of course, taesan would hear from riwoo. he always does. but you didn’t think it would happen so soon.

sungho laughs lightly, though it’s more nervous than anything else. “i mean, it’s not like you didn’t want him to find out.”

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “he’s so mad now...”

“you better fix it,” sungho says with a small chuckle. “he’s gonna blow up on you if you keep avoiding the truth.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “i don’t know how to fix it. i’ve already lied twice.”

“well,” sungho says, “maybe you just gotta... tell him the truth at this point. no more hiding.”

but you’re not ready to do that. not yet. the surprise is too important to mess up now.

you type out a message, your hands shaking a little as you try to keep it steady.

you: i’m sorry. we just bumped into eachothee

you press send, waiting for taesan’s response with bated breath.

it takes a while, but finally, your phone buzzes.

taesan: it was a coincidence?

you let out a sigh of relief. it's not as bad as it could have been, but you still feel like you’ve messed up.

you: yeah, i went out to grab some stuff, and boom, sungho was there getting some stuff for the dorm too

you wait for a reply, and when it comes, it’s still not as angry as you expected, but you can hear the frustration in taesan’s words.

taesan: you know, you could’ve just told me. i don’t like when you hide stuff from me.

your heart drops, and you feel guilty again. you want to explain yourself, but you’re afraid it’ll make everything worse.

“he’s really pissed now,” you say quietly to sungho, who nods sympathetically.

“you should’ve just told him earlier,” he says, though his tone is more playful than critical. “now you gotta go back and fix it.”

you take a deep breath, realizing sungho’s right. you’re going to have to deal with the fallout when you get back to the dorm.

you decide on sungho’s dorm since taesan is rooming with woonhak and jaehyun so it would be perfect to wrap his gift all together and put final touched on it.

but once you open the door, you stand frozen at the door of sungho’s dorm, heart hammering in your chest. the moment taesan walks in, everything about the room shifts. his presence fills the space, and even though he’s not saying anything yet, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“so, this is where you’ve been?” taesan’s voice cuts through the silence. it’s sharper than usual, colder too. he looks at you, then at sungho, his eyes narrowing. “i thought you said you were by yourself.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat. his words hit harder than expected, but you force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “i was… i mean, i am.”

taesan tilts his head, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i just bumped into sungho, we were talking, and i guess riwoo saw us leave together.” you’re already regretting how this sounds, but you can’t back down now. you have to keep the lie intact.

“bumped into sungho?” taesan’s voice drips with suspicion. “so it’s just a coincidence you were both out together?”

you nod quickly, hoping he buys it. “yeah, we were just… talking, you know? nothing serious. i just didn’t want to bother you while you were busy.”

taesan crosses his arms, studying you with a sharp gaze. “that doesn’t sound right.”

the air between you two feels like it’s crackling with tension. you swallow hard, knowing you can’t let him get too suspicious. “it’s really nothing, taesan. you know i wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“you wouldn’t, huh?” taesan says slowly, his tone soft but with a dangerous edge. “then why didn’t you just tell me? why go through all this just to cover up some… coincidence?”

you flinch slightly at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. but you won’t break. you can’t spoil the surprise now. not when everything is so close to being perfect.

“i didn’t want to bother you with the details,” you say, hoping he buys it. “i just figured i’d spend some time with sungho, that’s all.” you glance at sungho for a moment, but he’s standing still, like he’s unsure whether to step in.

taesan watches you for a long beat, and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. his expression hardens. “so you thought it’d be better to lie to me, to sneak around?”

your chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than you expected. “taesan, it’s not like that.”

“really?” taesan’s voice rises, a hint of frustration creeping in. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like. i don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that you’re not hiding something. are you trying to cover something up?”

you feel your heart race. this is spiraling out of control, and you don’t know how to stop it. the last thing you want is for him to think you’re doing something behind his back.

“taesan, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re overthinking this. i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” you force yourself to look him in the eye, trying to convey sincerity. “it’s nothing, really.”

taesan doesn’t respond right away. he’s still standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold as he studies you. you feel like he’s dissecting every word you’ve said, trying to figure out if you’re being honest or not.

“so what, this is all just some coincidence?” taesan asks again, voice dripping with doubt. “you just happened to be with sungho, and riwoo just happened to see you leaving together?”

you nod quickly, trying to sound convincing. “yeah, that’s it. it’s just a coincidence, taesan.”

taesan lets out a long breath, his frustration simmering just under the surface. he doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push further. yet.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you say, trying to change the subject. “it’s nothing. seriously.”

taesan stays quiet, his eyes narrowing, still unconvinced. “i don’t know if i believe you, but fine. if you say so.”

there’s a moment of silence between you two, and you can almost feel the distance growing between you. you want to tell him the truth, but you can’t risk it. not yet.

“you didn’t need to lie to me, you know,” taesan says softly, his gaze softer but still guarded. “you could’ve just told me where you were. there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“i know,” you say, your heart sinking. “but i didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

the moment you say it, you regret it. taesan’s eyes flash with confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, waiting.

“what surprise?” taesan asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

you hesitate, panic rising. you can’t tell him, not yet. not when you’re this close.

“it’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “i just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

taesan’s gaze sharpens again. “you’re lying. i can tell.”

you want to scream, to tell him the truth, but you stay silent, your heart heavy with the pressure of it all.

“you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” taesan asks, his voice quiet now, as if he’s piecing everything together.

you look away, unable to meet his eyes. you can’t keep lying, but you can’t give in either. not yet.

“taesan, please,” you whisper. “just trust me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

he sighs, his expression softening just a little. “i trust you, but it’s hard when you keep lying to me. i just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me what was going on.”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. your throat feels tight, and your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

taesan looks at you for a long moment, his face softening a bit. “it’s fine,” he says quietly. “but next time, just tell me. no more lies.”

you nod, relieved but still filled with guilt.

there’s a long silence, and then you finally reach into your bag and pull out the vinyl and the trinkets you picked out for him. you hold them out to him, your hands shaking.

“here,” you say softly, voice full of apology. “i got these for you. i… i thought you’d like them.”

taesan takes the items slowly, his expression unreadable. after a few moments, he looks up at you. “you didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice softening. “but… thanks.”

you smile weakly, still feeling the weight of everything. “i’m sorry for making you mad.”

taesan sighs, stepping closer to you. “it’s okay. just promise me no more lies, alright?”

“promise,” you say quietly.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension begins to melt away. taesan pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself relax, knowing that you’ll have to make things right.

but for now, you’re just grateful that he’s still here.

taesan is silent for a long time, just staring at the vinyls in his hands. his fingers trace over the covers, his expression unreadable.

you shift nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction. was this too much? was this not what he would’ve liked? sungho had assured you it was a good choice, but now, standing here with taesan’s gaze locked onto the gift, doubt creeps in.

“you really did all this for me?” taesan finally asks, voice quieter now.

you nod quickly. “of course i did. you just had a comeback, and i wanted to get you something that actually fit your taste. something you’d really like.”

he exhales slowly, his grip tightening around the vinyls for a second before he looks up at you. his expression has softened completely, the cold edge gone. instead, there’s something else… something warmer.

“you’re an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. in fact, his lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “you could’ve just told me.”

“and ruin the surprise?” you huff, crossing your arms. “not a chance.”

taesan sighs, shaking his head. “you made me worry for nothing.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble, guilt creeping back in.

he looks at you for another long second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around you. his hold is firm, secure, like he’s grounding himself in your presence.

you blink, surprised at the sudden affection, but quickly melt into the embrace. his scent is familiar, and the warmth of his body makes all the stress from earlier fade.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters into your hair. “just tell me next time.”

you nod against his chest. “okay. i promise.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes still holding a bit of lingering frustration. but it’s different now. less about suspicion, more about the fact that you worried him.

his eyes flicker to sungho, and his warmth disappears just slightly as he levels a glare at him. “and you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

sungho raises his hands defensively. “hey, don’t look at me like that. i was just helping.”

“helping,” taesan repeats, clearly not convinced. “spending hours alone with y/n, keeping secrets, sneaking around.”

sungho rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah, i get it. i’d be mad too. but it’s not like that.”

“doesn’t matter,” taesan grumbles, still glaring. “you still got too comfortable.”

you groan, tugging at his sleeve. “taesan, please. it’s not like we were on a date or something.”

taesan clicks his tongue but lets it go, instead looking back at the items in his hands. now that he’s actually processing it, his expression shifts, like he’s finally realizing what you got him, without the worry of why you were lying.

“wait,” he mutters, flipping it over. “this album… where did you find this?”

you grin. “special store sungho knew about. he helped me find the best ones.”

taesan pauses for a moment, then looks at you again, softer this time. “you really went through all this trouble just to get me something i’d like?”

you scoff. “of course i did. i love you, you idiot.”

his ears turn red. it’s subtle, but you notice it. he looks away, clearing his throat. “you’re the idiot,” he mumbles, gripping the vinyls like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “but… thanks.”

he pulls you into another hug, holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let go.

and just like that, everything feels right again.

[tr4gictea]

Hallo!! can I req a lyney, kaveh and haitham x reader (again..) with reader who constantly overworks and ends up sleeping t theirb desk? I loved the last rain fic u rote RAHHHH thank you sm!!

Overworked!Teen!Reader+Lyney,Kaveh,&Alhaitham

❥Masterlist

Tags: fluff, overworked reader, no beta we die like men,

Including: Lyney, Kaveh, & Alhaitham

word count: 3k words

A/n: Hi! thank you for the request @cheri-2047! Heyyy... how yall doing... I'm back and I am going to post constantly. And one announcement at the end of the story!

Also, state if you want your fic to be written in a platonic or romantic manner or I will choose for you. This is very much a threat >:D (JKJK(kinda(not really(but please write what the intentions you want(this is for your enjoyment and my piece of mind that i made something you wanted(I love you <3))))))

Alhaitham

Art: @ Ahiii7 on twitter

You stare at the clock in the corner of the desk, the hand is slowly creeping towards midnight. The library was empty except for you, your desk was scattered full of textbooks, essay guides, and empty cups of coffee. Your tired eyes gaze over the essay structure, ensuring that every comma, period, and word is perfect. This essay had to be perfect.

You rub your eyes feeling tiredness wash over you but you can't stop now. Your hand was starting to cramp up from how much you were writing but you had to keep going. You can't stop. Not now. This Akademiya application essay is too important. If you don't get into the akademiya now that will throw off your whole plan of becoming the youngest person to join Spantamad in the akademiya's history.

Getting into Spantamad at such a young age would prove your capable. Your parents expect nothing less from you, you've always been told you have what it takes. But was that true? Do you really have what it takes to get into one of the best schools in teyvat?

You push those thoughts aside. No, you have to be perfect. You continue to scratch away at the essay on your desk annotating notes you hadn't noticed before. When suddenly a bolt of pain is sent through your hand, making you drop the pen and grip your hand in pain.

You begin to massage your hand, and you allow yourself to sink into your chair. Your eyelids felt so heavy, that all you want to do is rest and be done with this essay. Maybe you can take a quick nap, just to so you can get some energy. You set the timer beside you to 30 minutes so it wouldn't be too long of a nap. It couldn't hurt to take one break, could it?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Alhaitham was always the first person to enter the akademiya. Even before he became the acting grand sage he was always the first person to enter those doors. He has a set-in-stone plan that he has put together for himself to follow. Even if one thing is off, his whole day feels like a mess.

First, he wakes up before the sun rises and has a short 3-mile run, he then gets ready for his day while Kaveh is talking his ear off about something. When he arrived at the school he'd enjoyed the silence of an empty place.

That's why when he hears a loud beeping coming from inside the library he is immediately ticked off. He marches his way into the library prepared to kick some student out. His 10 minutes of silence in the halls have been ruined by some student thinking there someone special to be able to leave that noise going and no think that he's- Oh wait, it's you.

When the acting grand sage turns the corner, he is met with the sight of you sleeping on a library desk filled with stacks of books and cups of what looked like coffee. He turned the alarm on your desk off with a small tap. Your face was scrunched into an angry face and you were mumbling something in your sleep.

He hated to admit but it was kind of, cute.

He looked at the papers in front of you, they were submission essays to the Akademiya. Each one was different from the last. Touching on a different subject in each essay he read. He's seen these essays before, you showed them to him so he could check if there were any mistakes. He had told you they were fine but you somehow managed to find the smallest mistakes a re-write the whole essay again. You've been overworking yourself too much lately and it was not good for someone of your age.

"(Y/n), (Y/n)?" Your breathing was slow and it looked like you were deep in sleep. You were probably up for a while if you are still in the N3 stage of sleep. He would take you into his office so you could get some rest away from others' eyes.

He draped his cape over you carefully picked you up and carried you to the elevator up to his office. He figured it would be less embarrassing for you to be asleep in front of a bunch of college students.

He placed you on a couch he had placed in his office a couple months ago. Alhaitham looked down at you on the couch and saw your smile soften.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your eyes began to slowly blink open, the soft fabric underneath your body was comforting compared to that hardwood desk. You hugged the pillow next to your head allowin- wait.

You blink your eyes open at the sudden realization that you aren't at your desk anymore. Your body shoots up from its resting position and looks around the new area. Your eyes adjusted to the new lighting and a blur of what looked like an office came into view. It looked like Alhaitham's office.

"Hm? You're up," You turned your head to see Alhaitham at his desk writing down something on a stack of papers. "I've prepared a cup of chamomile tea for you." He gestures to a cup of tea on a side table beside you.

You thanked him and took the tea off the table, it was warm to the touch and wasn't too hot at all. "How long was I out for?"

"10 hours and 46 minutes," He responds. You hum in response and go back to your tea. "You know, you shouldn't be overworking yourself like this."

"I know, I just... need everything to be perfect." you sigh and hug your knees close to your chest.

"Perfection is something even the greatest scholars have never achieved, and you will never reach it either," His reply felt cold but warm at the same time. You could tell he was trying to give some type of comfort in his own weird way.

"But, if it's not perfect, what's the point?" How am I supposed to be the person that everyone thinks I am?

"In truth, people want something real. Something that reflects your thoughts, your ideals, and personality." He looks up from his work and gives you a small smile. "You are a very sharp and determined person, I know you are more than capable of writing this without having to work yourself to death." Were those words of comfort? From Alhaitham?! The most unloving man alive?!? And with a smile that wasn't condescending?!?!

"Who are you and what have you done with the Acting Grand Sage?"

His smile falters into his condescending smirk. "I let you sleep in my office and this is the thanks I get? Ungrateful." He rolls his eyes playfully.

"Words of comfort from you are odd." You chuckle.

"Hm?" He raised his eyebrow at you, "I do not know what you mean? I am always comforting,"

"Okay then name one time in the past week that you comforted someone."

He pulled his arm under his chin and thought long and hard about it. "Ah yes, I gave Layla notes on her thesis and told her it was average enough to get an 'A'. "

"You didn't actually say that to her, did you?" Your mouth agape at this man's lack of social skills.

"No, I didn't say it to her," He pauses for a moment. "I wrote it on the front of her essay." The scholar answered with a straight look on his face.

"Dude..."

Lyney

Art: @ m_iothle on twitter

"Fuck..." You sigh as you let yourself fall onto the ground. You are currently atop a roof in the Court of Fontaine looking into the window of a Fontainian official's house. You had been tasked, by Father, to gather as much information as you could about the man as you could.

The dim light inside the home and the moon are the only things illuminating your surroundings as you adjust your position. You take out a notebook and start flipping through weeks of information on this guy. Every detail mattered — what this guy ate, who he spoke to, what time he went to bed — it all mattered.

Reading through you could see patterns forming, patterns that could be this man's downfall. But the job was taking its toll. You barely slept for weeks, surviving off caffeine, small sandwiches, and will. Though your senses have been sharpened through harsh training you find yourself having trouble keeping yourself upright.

"Just one more hour..." You mumble as you try to fight off sleep, your words echo in your head as you scribble down more notes in your journal. Minutes blurred into another as your eyes grew heavier, you fought the sleep, shifting into other positions, but your body had other plans.

And just like that — they were out.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Lyney grumbled, tapping his foot on the floor as he waited for you to return from your mission to give him a briefing. His teeth shuddered as a cold breeze hit him. Lyney had been waiting up to an hour for you to show up but to no avail had he seen any sight of you.

You've been late to meetings, but never more than 10 minutes. An annoyed expression spread across his face as he realized he would have to come find you himself. About half an hour later Lyney found you knocked out on the roof across from the target.

"Hmm, aren't they adorable?" Lyney hums to themselves as they smile down at they're sleeping, sibling. He scans over your face taking note of your eye bags and unkept hair. Your notebook dangles loosely from your fingertips, he bends down and plucks it from your hands. You've been neglecting to take care of yourself and from the looks of it, you fell asleep on the job. Well we can't have that, can we?

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

A loud crack jolted you from your sleeping position. You sprung yourself up from your relaxed position — ready to fight whoever shot at you. But to your surprise, you only find Lyney with a straight face and his eyes showing no emotions for you to read.

"L-lyney?!" You blurt out, "What are you-, wait! Is it check-in time already?!" You say in a panic suddenly remembering the meeting.

"Yes, my dear sibling it is far past the time we agreed on," He grumbled. "And not only have I found you asleep on the job, you have also left yourself open to attacks."

I scoffed at his words "I'm hidden, the target has no idea I'm here."

"Hm," He hummed then lunged at you, he grabbed your arm and twisted it behind your back. "Even if you are hidden that does not make you invisible — you are still open to attacks."

You struggle against his hold, every time you try to pull yourself out of his grip Lyney twists your arm causing pain throughout your body. "Well, I just woke up and you're stronger than me."

"Is that the excuse we should carve into your grave then?"

You stop struggling for a second taking in his words. Your body was noticeably sluggish, normally when someone had you in this position you could easily twist your way out of it. But your exhaustion had cost you some of your strength — which left you helpless under Lyney.

The magician loosens his grip and lets you move away from him. "Y/n, I get it, this is your first mission and you want to do your best. But this is not the mission you should lose sleep over."

"I know... but I want to make Father proud and give me more missions in the future—,"

"— And they will, but at this rate, you'll burn yourself out." A pang of frustration and concern twisted in his chest. "If you go about every mission like this then you'll end up hating the idea of getting sent out on the field."

You keep your head low feeling a twinge of shame for overworking yourself. Lyney lets out a sigh and places a hand on your head, "You did great work today Y/n, you should be proud."

A smile threatens to appear on your face as he praises you, "But the next time Father sends you on a mission I hope that you will remember to take care of yourself. Got it." It sounded like he was more demanding of you than asking.

"Yes sir!" you say, excited about the prospect of getting a second mission.

"Good, now head back to the house and get some rest," He turns away from you and starts flipping through your notebook. "I'll take care of the rest."

Kaveh

Art: @ m_iothle on twitter

Who says that kids can't handle pressure? Because they obviously haven't met you! The demanding life of owning a restaurant is tough on your parents; so you're here to lighten their load. Do they need more utensils? You'll buy some! Short staffed? Pfft easy, you'll jump in! Crippling debt from when your father started the business? Take it out of your own pocket! When people ask you about the pressure, what pressure? Pressure is for non-achievers who are too scared to get what's needed to be done.

You live and breathe by this mantra; it's all that keeps you in business and out of the streets. You work hard as your parents' underpaid accountant. The idea of the business clasping caused you to work long work hours well into the night, such as this night.

The evening moonlight shows through the window, casting on your face. The dinner rush has started, and the sound of utensils hitting plates runs through your ears. Your parents are running from kitchen to table carrying heavy trays of food and empty plates. You can see tired lines itching onto their faces as they tirelessly work.

The restaurant work had also taken a toll on you — causing you sleepless nights wondering if you were gonna have a home the next day. All you could do was adjust your parent's budgeting to something more sustainable.

You are currently seated at the bar working out the details of next month's budgeting plans. You rub your temple to try and soothe your nerves. You look at every cent of money that goes in and out of this place. Every little dollar counts.

The rent is due soon. The money was looking scarce. The price of tomatoes is getting higher, so we might need to push more egg-related dishes to customers. Maybe you could switch to a cheaper brand. Looking over the spreadsheet it didn't seem like your parent's restaurant had much time left. Maybe —

Your head snapped forward, then snapped back up.

No. You have to stay awake.

You blicked rapidly and chugged down half a hot coffee to keep you from falling asleep. You needed to figure out how to save the business. If the restaurant went down then your parent's dreams would go down. This place wasn't just a job for them but also their home, literally. Your father never looked happier when he was in the kitchen even with bags forming under his eyes. Your mother thrived on making recipes for others to try. And you lived here — it offered such a warm and inviting atmosphere that you loved.

So you pressed on, even as your eyes grew heavy and your head dropped...... SLAM!

A cup slamming on the table jerking you up right from your half-sleeping state. You look up to see a slightly drunk architect sitting next to you. You recognized the man as Kaveh, the famous architect who often came down to your parents' restaurant to drink his sorrows away. You two frequently chatted when he came around and considered each other as kind of friends.

He had a joyful expression on his face and looked to be celebrating something by himself. This is odd for him as when he comes in he's often here to yap on about some horrible client he's has.

You are unsure of when he got there in the short time you rested your eyes but it was probably a little while ago. You look at the clock across from you, it reads 11:36 PM. Fuck, you let yourself relax and wasted an hour and a half. You groggily stretched out your arms and lazily picked up the pencil to continue your work.

"Late night?" Kaveh says facing his body toward you.

You fidget with a strand of your hair. "Something like that." You huff out.

"You don't look that great," He said trying to put it as nicely as possible.

"I'm fine," You brush him off as you take a sip of your now cold coffee. His eyes scan over the mess of papers surrounding you and frowns.

"Y/n, I get you're trying to help your parents but — you can't do that if you're dead on your feet."

You let out a small chuckle "Those are some wise words for a drunkard."

He chuckled nervously, remembering a certain sage who spoke those words to him "Yeah, they're technically not my words but they helped me when I was working myself to death."

"Well, I don't really have a choice," You mutter. "If I don't fix this budget then—,"

Kaveh stops you with a hand to your face. "The restaurant will not shut down if you rest during the night." He furrows his eyebrows. "This restaurant is your parent's responsibility — not yours."

The architect reaches for the paper in front of you and carefully stacks them together. "Now, you go rest for however much you need to and come back when you have energy?"

You wait a beat before responding, one night's rest couldn't hurt? "Alright," You sigh in defeat as you push yourself off the high stool.

The numbers could wait — just a little while.

For my announcement, I will not be as genshin-focused from now on. I will still post genshin things if you request it but I will be trying to focus on other fandoms like MHA/JJK/Demon Slayer. This is mostly because I have not been enjoying genshin anymore and it's gotten kinda stale in terms of everything. So if you have any requests I will do them but other than that I'm not writing genshin. (also, yes true meaning will continue but it will end at Fontaine because I don't wanna write Natlan #ProudNatlanStoryQuestHater)

More Genshin Impact Stories *ੈ✩‧₊˚

More Alhaitham Stories ˚ ༘ ୭ ˚. More Lyney Stories ₊˚.༄ More Kaveh Stories ˚ ༘ ୭ ˚.

REMEMBER TO SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON, OBLITERATE THAT FOLLOW BUTTON AND, REQUEST FOR A SHOUT-OUT IN MY NEXT VIDEO 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥

[greensagephase]

Hi, guys

Before you continue reading, I ask that if you disagree with my sentiments mentioned below, you refrain from sending/leaving hateful responses.

I will not tolerate that.

Be mindful.

Be compassionate.

Be respectful.

Be a decent human being.

Today is over a month since I was last here. I'm sorry for disappearing for the entirety of January, but I haven't felt mentally nor spiritually well to be on social media, even tumblr, which is realistically one of the very few apps I use.

I didn't plan on taking this break, which has been (I think) my longest break from this app by far.

I had originally planned to take a few days off to rest after the holidays and looked forward to getting back on the app a few days later, but as the days went on, I found myself with a feeling of impending doom.

I know it's probably not easy to tell through a screen, but I'm the kind of person who tries to remain positive and strong in the midst of hard times. I always try to be uplifting and/or offer comfort as best as I can to myself and those around me; family, friends, and even acquaintances and complete strangers, who strangely feel compelled to share with me the difficulties they are going through sometimes.

However, I've found it difficult to remain positive and strong these past few weeks, but especially the last few days. Some of you may know, or maybe don't, but I'm located in this country: 🇺🇸.

I won't go into detail, but there's a lot going on rn and so much of it has been affecting me emotionally, and it's the reason why I've been trying to avoid social media; to balance my consumption of news/updates. I've found myself throughout the days feeling an array of emotions: sadness, worry, anger, disbelief, disappointment, heartbreak, helplessness, surprise...

Although I've been experiencing pretty much every negative emotion possible, I'm trying to regain my strength, positivity, motivation, and hope. It's much easier said than done, but I'm trying not to let myself sink further into this negative bubble.

I debated taking a few more days off, but I've genuinely missed being here and I also didn't want those of you who care to keep up with my shenanigans to wonder about me and think that I'm abandoning the fandom, or something like that.

I'm still here, very much loving on our fav Spider-Man. I will continue to write -- something I haven't done since my last fic update in December, to be completely honest, but definitely looking forward to doing again -- and share it on here. I'll also try to be more active and catch up on notifications over the next few days at my own pace.

Thank you for reading this update. I hope you guys are doing well and taking care of yourselves.

Pls stay safe out there

Alondra❤️

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

[hey-hey-j]

anyway here's another excerpt because I'm starting to lose confidence in the fic overall pfgggfhhf

He only has to catch himself on the doorframe once when he starts stepping out of his room, but from there it’s easy-peasy to keep one hand placed securely against the wall as he makes his way down the hall, slowly, all the way to the bunker’s small kitchen. The smell of something getting overcooked greets him before he can make it all the way inside. 

Like most mornings, John Dory is already down here, grinning that goofy grin of his as he hovers over the stove, flips something in one of the pans he’s got ever-so-slightly smoking on it. When he notices Floyd coming in he turns to greet him cheerfully, ears perking up excitedly. “Morning!” 

Floyd makes a low hum of acknowledgement in his throat, then follows it up with a mumbly “Morning.” He leans against the doorframe, rubs at his still tired eyes. God, he wants to go back to bed. “Where’s Branch?” 

If it’s not John Dory, then it’s usually Branch who’s down in the kitchen before anyone else, cooking breakfast with a lot more precision and a lot fewer pans than John Dory is doing now. If he’s not here, then he’s gotta be busy somewhere else. Floyd’s learned by now that Branch isn’t the type to let the day go to waste. 

John Dory brings his free hand up to his chest and flattens it there, says in a voice gone all melodramatic, “Our dearest Bitty B had to get an early start today.” Then, bringing his voice back down to its usual deep tone he adds, “He said he’s helping Poppy with the expansion plans.” 

Right, the expansion—weeks of back and forth correspondence with Clay and Viva, calculating the amount of new pods needing to be built to accommodate the Putt Putt trolls, how many Putt Putts total split up into how many couples and families, how many caterbuses will be needed to bring them all to the village and what adjustments need to be made to their food stores to account for the extra mouths to feed…. it’s giving Floyd a headache just thinking about the amount of work involved. 

(The amount of work he could be out there helping his baby brother with, but thinking about that just starts making his stomach feel all squeezy. It’s either that or the fact that he just chugged down a handful of pills on an empty stomach.)

Speaking of: John’s already placing a steaming mug and a plate of scrambled eggs (only slightly burnt at the edges) on the table before Floyd can even sit down, and once Floyd does he lets himself sink into the chair immediately, biting back another sigh at the tension seeping from his muscles. 

For a moment, he’s grateful that John didn’t notice the gesture, back turned to Floyd as he fills up his own mug at the counter. When he does turn to Floyd again it’s with a big smile plastered on his face, his best attempt at coming off as inviting. 

“So!” Way too cheerily. “How’re we feeling today?” 

Sitting up gingerly (despite the squeal of protest in his lower back), Floyd reaches for the coffee mug. For as much as he’s been going on about his empty stomach, he’s just feeling vaguely queasy at the sight of food right now. “Okay,” he answers John. Halfheartedly sips at his coffee—wait, no, that is bitter. Floyd peers warily down at the drink as he adds, “I took my meds early today, so….”

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. 

Regardless, he can see John Dory nodding through his own swig of coffee, replying when he’s able, “Good to know they’re working, uh?” 

“I guess, yeah….” 

Though Floyd doesn’t feel like they’re working. 

An awkward silence passes over the two brothers then, abruptly. Floyd goes on peering down into his mug. Briefly he thinks about getting up and getting some dang creamer but even that feels like too much effort today. John Dory goes on standing at the other end of the table, mug cupped in both hands, one finger repeatedly tapping on the ceramic like he’s looking for something to say. Or like he’s nervous. 

“....Well, Branch is probably going to be gone for most of the day.” 

Floyd nods in response. “Yup.” Busy guy. 

“So, I was thinking….”

Floyd blinks up in time to see John Dory setting his mug down on the table. Placing both palms down flat on the surface so he can lean in closer to Floyd, just a little bit, like he’s trying to be conscious of his brother’s personal bubble. 

“Maybe you and I could do something together, yeah?” John’s voice has gone uncharacteristically low. Almost…. soft. His ears are pricking up with anticipation. “Just the two of us!”

There’s a kind of gleam in his eyes as he says it, something small and bright and almost like…. almost like hope, Floyd realizes, and right at that moment he feels his own ears droop with the knowledge of what John is trying to do….

Something leaps in Floyd’s stomach. He finds himself sighing, suddenly, not bothering to stifle it this time. One hand comes up to pinch at his temple again, the headache threatening to emerge earlier finally setting in. Another sigh. 

“I…. I think I just want to stay in today…. I’m so—”

Suddenly he’s biting back the next word. Literally—he feels his tongue catching in his teeth before he can spit it out. 

I’m….

“I’m…. I’m just…. not really feeling it right now.” 

He casts his eyes back down to the drink in his grip but he still catches it.

John Dory’s hands clenching against the tabletop. 

“Oh…. th-that’s okay!” The words are cheerful, but Floyd can still sense it, the pang of disappointment in his older brother’s voice. It’s almost enough to get Floyd walking back his statement right then and there, but—no. Floyd’s tired. He’s sick and he’s tired and he doesn’t want to go out today. No matter how much John Dory pouts about it. 

But, seeing that big desperate smile still clinging to John’s face….

That awkward silence again. Just as abrupt as before. Floyd closes his eyes against it….

“....Hey, um. D’you wanna…. come up to Rhonda with me?”

This time Floyd does swallow back the irritated sigh that wants to escape him. His eyes flutter back open, his mouth starting to say something—

“You don’t have to do anything!” John Dory briskly interrupts him with a raising of his palms, almost panicked, before he seems to realize what he’s doing and quickly tucks his hands under his arms, shrinking back from the table and therefore Floyd with his gaze going down to the floor. This time when he speaks, his words come out slower. More careful.

“I just…. need to declutter some stuff up there.” Nervously he moves his gaze back up towards Floyd, suddenly looking a kind of anxious that Floyd hasn’t seen in him since….

Bro, you look stressed. Breathe….

It’s in that moment that Floyd realizes he’s been biting his lip. He lets it go gingerly, eyes still trained hesitantly on John Dory. The tense line of his shoulders. 

If it’s just from here to Rhonda….

For what feels like the hundredth time, Floyd lets out a sigh. He moves to take another sip of coffee—BLECK, yeah, no, that’s still terrible. He pushes the mug away from himself, fixes John Dory with a look he hopes comes across as Fine, but don’t ask anything more of me. 

“Okay.” 

At that, John Dory smiles. Relief clearly flooding his eyes as he goes to pick up his mug again, starts making his way around the table. “Okay then, cool!” He says it breathily as he steps past Floyd, on his way to the exit. “I’ll meet you up there, okay? When you’re ready!” He points a finger before he disappears down the hall entirely. “Eat your breakfast!” 

Just like that, Floyd is left alone in the kitchen.

[cuppajj]

Wait so how are you planning on telling the baau story again?? Or is it already being told and Im just stupid

It’s already being told!

Just don’t expect any linear narrative for now, that’s for the timeline I’ll make. I might get started on it sometime in the future, but it won’t be super detailed and concrete yet (that will probably sadly take til the end of BY, or at least the SS/DE update… there are still many things we need to know)

The way i talk about BAAU’s story is kinda speculative rn, giving little tidbits of lore and character info, some ideas for what would happen in the little narrative I’m weaving together. It’s very loose, just like the way I think about BAAU in my head. (To be fair I’m talking about introductory stuff first instead of dropping all the spoilers and serious arcs, so in a way it’s still kinda linear? Just scattered.)

BAAU likely won’t be an actual fic or webcomic in the conventional sense, with a point A to point B plot. It’ll be told in the pics/minicomics/lore info, because for a massive AU like this that I’m doing purely for fun, I’m not going to try and stress over treating it like an actual project. Take away all the intricate details, you guys are just watching me play in a sandbox

TLDR; BAAU’s story is already being told, there’ll be a timeline wip so things can be understood in a more linear narrative way, but for all intents and purposes, this is it baby

If you want to follow along btw, the best way to do it is by reading the masterpost!

[waywardsalt]

linebeck is rattling around in my brain but i cant do any writing rn help

[thaliagrayce]

i've been talking abt my voltron playlists and @iveofficiallygonemad asked to hear them and i want to share with anybody who wants!! i know they're not perfect, i'm working on them & trying to make them better. if you have any recommendations for any of them, let me know!! there's like A Lot and i want to give a lil explanation for most of them, so i'm putting them under the cut ^-^

SO first i have my favorite one <3 it's just. all of them. it's the whole team. it's a mess and it's a bunch of different genres because it's them fighting over the aux cord on a road trip. it's them trying to make each other laugh or annoy each other or play something catchy enough it will infect everyone in the vicinity with brain worms.

Hunk: i'm pretty happy with my Hunk playlist! chill vibes. he strikes me as the kind of guy who listens to calm music to try to find his own calm, and that's what i got here :)

Pidge: this is messier and less cohesive than my usual playlist because frankly i think pidge would have a shit taste in music. all over the board. this is a mix of meme songs and 8-bit covers and vocaloid and stuff that i think pidge would genuinely connect with, and i think pidge listens to all their music on shuffle without any regards for genre or mood because they're a gremlin. nobody gives pidge sole control of the aux.

Coran hears 80's music for the first time and loses his mind. He thinks ABBA is humanity's single greatest achievement.

Lance: i have ideas about where I'm going with this but haven't really settled yet. Lance seems like the kind of boy that loves to dance (is that canon? i forgot) so most of these are Bops That Make You Move in some way or another. he likes to present an upbeat face to the world, so there's no angsting in this playlist! we are clinging to the things that make us happy with both hands until our knuckles turn white!

Keith: i'm gonna be honest. i made him a playlist but i honestly don't think he cares about music very much. it's very important to some people! he's just not one of them! i haven't cracked this playlist open in a while but i'm pretty sure it's full of songs that i think he would conceivably train/work out to.

Shiro: this playlist involves the dumbest headcanon i have for shiro that has just not left me alone since i first thought of it. most of the playlist reflects the fact that he had an emo phase in middle school (that one isn't a headcanon, you just have to look at him to know) but BUT there are a few songs on here that are on here because. little known fact. he also went through a Twilight phase that he told nobody about. (keith knows. keith was there.) he has the entire twilight soundtrack memorized. he moved past the story but the music stays forever. he used to daydream about slow dancing to Flightless Bird, American Mouth. the first time Coran mentions that they have to avoid a place because there's a supermassive black hole there, he has to bite his tongue in order to keep a straight face. do NOT ask me why i believe this so wholeheartedly.

Allura's playlist sucks right now. I think it's because in my heart of hearts i know that, were she on earth today, she would go fucking nuts for taylor swift. i have ambivalent feelings for taylor swift. i cannot do allura justice like this. if you see my vision and have recs as to what might actually fit her, PLEASE.

Klance: i haven't done it yet but i'm gonna go through this and sort it to be a sort of progression of their relationship, starting with the more combative Rivalry songs, then slipping into "oh shit oh shit" songs, then maybe ending on the more lighthearted purely romantic songs <3

(i have two songs in a shallura playlist which does not at all encapsulate how much i'm obsessed with them. the tiny cop inside my head is just constantly screaming at me that i'm going to get yelled at for liking shallura. i am going to kill the cop inside my head.)

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

Sweet sweet angel 🤯😭 the way I was kicking my feet in my bed so HAPPY!!

"I do," You whisper back, fiddling with Bucky's fingers that rest on your stomach. It's a standard Friday night and you're laying in the hammock you have set up in your backyard, your back to Bucky's chest as you stare up at the stars, and a mischievous glint forms in your eyes. "I remember thinking you looked like a drowned kitten - hey!" You're cut off by your Alpha poking you in the side, breaking off into giggles as he tickles you some more until you're squirming enough to rock the hammock.

the hammock in my backyard is literally my dream they're so comfy and I would kill to live this moment forever 🥹

"Are you sorry now, 'mega?" Bucky asks cockily, and you can't see his face, but you know he's smiling - probably that dopey one he always wears when he looks at you. "Are you sorry for making fun of your Alpha?"

If I die this is my heaven.

But, whether we're mates or not, I'd still choose to marry you. I'd still choose to love you even if fate tried to lie to me and say that you're not meant for me. I have our whole wedding planned out, too. What food we're going to have, the color schemes, I'm even thinking you can train Alpine to be the flower girl and carry a basket of roses down the aisle. Like, I've planned everything. I'm going to marry you, Bucky Barnes. I'm serious."

Not me having a pinterest board full of wedding ideas 🤓 before meeting anyone jsjsjs but damn this is just the sweetest thing ever i love it I love it I love it I love it.

You barely let him get the question out before you're practically screaming "yes!" into the air, then dive down to capture his lips with yours. The kiss is frantic and a little messy, and it's never been more perfect because it's a kiss with Bucky, your mate, your Alpha, your soon-to-be-husband.

I just feel so happy right now🥹 this is the best thing I've read in weeks. I genuinely hope you, me and all the people that read this fic get to experience a moment like this.

no feelin' in the firelight

pairing: chubby!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: A normal Friday night turns into something so much more when Bucky asks if you remember the night you met.

warnings: the end is suggestive so 18+ only PLEASE and THANK YOU, omegaverse, true mates, love at first sight, proposals, this is just a whole lot of fluff, like there’s nothing but cavities here, some teasing but it’s out of love

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

a/n: this is one of the shortest things i’ve ever written but i’m in a bit of a funk with writing so i wanted to do something short and sweet, so here y’all go!

"Do you remember the night we met?" The deep timbre of Bucky's voice washes over you, blanketing you in its richness and warming you almost as much as the bonfire only a few feet away. A smile breaks across your face, and you can't help the quiet giggle that escapes your lips at the memory.

It was nearing seven, and the sky was shrouded in dark clouds, fat droplets of water pouring down from the heavens and soaking all of Brooklyn, forcing all its occupants to seek shelter. You'd been sitting at a table in the back corner of Irene's Diner for a few hours before the rain started and decided to wait out the storm while reading your newest find from the used bookstore nearby.

You were content to read in the silence of the empty shop with your food long since eaten and your second cup of coffee already halfway gone, but then the front door was nearly ripped off its hinges and the bell above it dinged wildly as someone entered. It was a man, an Alpha, who stood well over six feet tall. His biceps bulged against his sweater that was now soaked to his skin, his thighs looked to be suffocating in those jeans, and his belly, oh god his belly. So soft and round, and you could immediately envision yourself coming home from a long day at work to rest your head on the man's chest and feel his body pressing against yours to ease your worries.

He's the type of Alpha to make any Omega swoon, and you swooned. Oh, did you swoon. You swooned internally and, horrifyingly, externally as well. The high-pitched squeak you let out when his eyes met yours made you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole. But, come on, one could arguably say that the Alpha was having a bad day, and yet he still looked and smelled like that. His scent - fresh cedar wood with a hint of floral - wasn't overpowered by the smell of the rain mixed with the grass that was freshly cut only hours before, like it should have been. Given the environment, you'd have been surprised that you could smell anything resembling his true scent if you didn't instinctively know why you could -

He's your mate. You know it. Just by smell alone, you know that he is your one true love.

And, judging by the look of shock and awe on the Alpha's face, you would assume he's thinking something similar about you.

"I do," You whisper back, fiddling with Bucky's fingers that rest on your stomach. It's a standard Friday night and you're laying in the hammock you have set up in your backyard, your back to Bucky's chest as you stare up at the stars, and a mischievous glint forms in your eyes. "I remember thinking you looked like a drowned kitten - hey!" You're cut off by your Alpha poking you in the side, breaking off into giggles as he tickles you some more until you're squirming enough to rock the hammock.

"Are you sorry now, 'mega?" Bucky asks cockily, and you can't see his face, but you know he's smiling - probably that dopey one he always wears when he looks at you. "Are you sorry for making fun of your Alpha?"

"No." It's true; he knows you're not sorry, and he knows you'll tease him again. Does he mind, though? Not one bit. He'll let you get away with saying just about anything if it means you keep talking to him with that soft tone and that sparkle in your eyes you reserve only for him.

"Here I was about to go on about how I knew you were my mate from the moment our eyes locked and you're teasing me," Bucky huffs, and you don't even try to stop your eyes from rolling. God, he's so dramatic.

"I'm teasing you because I love you." Immediately, Bucky deflates, and you can feel the unwavering love he has for you flowing through the bond at your declaration, which makes you settle in place as well.

"And I love you, my mate," Bucky says, nuzzling your temple with a soft smile.

Growing up hearing about bonds and mates had prepared you for meeting yours; you'd daydreamed about the perfect partner and planned out your futures by thirteen years old. Your parents had instilled in you that while you may be an Omega, you were no less deserving of love and respect than an Alpha, and that you should never settle for less than that. And while dating was a little difficult due to quite a bit of Alphas having more traditional views of relationships and designations, your parents never let you fall into their traps. You understand you're extremely lucky to have the parents you do, but after a while it seemed like you'd never meet an Alpha that would treat you the way they said you should be treated.

But then July 21st of 2022 came around, and the Alpha you and your parents always wanted for you came walking into your life, turning it upside down and going so far beyond what you expected out of a relationship that even after two years together, you're still not quite sure if Bucky is just a dream.

It hits you right then, the feeling of being loved and being in love with someone who has made a five-hour round-trip to get your parents and bring them to his house after theirs was damaged in a storm, letting them stay with you two until their place could get fixed.

You're in love with someone who volunteers at the local library, reading to the kids, even watching over them for a short time so their parents can get some shopping done in peace.

You're in love with a caring and selfless Alpha, who gives you anything you could ever want, and all he asks for in return is you.

You've always known you wanted to marry Bucky, so you're not sure why it feels like a revelation when it crosses your mind just now, but it does. It feels like new information, as though you haven't known you were going to spend the rest of your life with him from the moment he came up to your table, soaked and sheepish, letting you know that he doesn't mean to be a stereotypical Alpha but he has to let you know that you're beautiful and he also really loves the author whose book you're reading.

"Omega?" Bucky's gentle voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you crane your neck to smile back at him.

"You know I'm going to marry you, right?" You don't know why you say it; it's just the first thing that comes to mind. But your Alpha's reaction to your sudden declaration doesn't disappoint.

"Well, currently, my only life plan involves being with you forever, so I can only hope you want to marry me too," Bucky chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It's only brief, though, because you pull back and turn as much as you can so you can look into your Alpha's eyes.

"No, like..." You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip as you think over what to say. You're not sure what you want to say exactly, but when your mate is Bucky Barnes, it's a little hard to think of any words in any language that can properly convey how you feel. "I know we've talked about it a little, and that it's kind of a given since we're true mates. But, whether we're mates or not, I'd still choose to marry you. I'd still choose to love you even if fate tried to lie to me and say that you're not meant for me. I have our whole wedding planned out, too. What food we're going to have, the color schemes, I'm even thinking you can train Alpine to be the flower girl and carry a basket of roses down the aisle. Like, I've planned everything. I'm going to marry you, Bucky Barnes. I'm serious."

"And you think I'm not?" He asks, and even though there's a hint of playfulness in his tone, the look in his eyes brings tears to yours. He just looks so damn happy, and that's all you want for him; all you want is to make him feel as happy and loved as he makes you feel.

Bucky shuffles a little, removing one of his arms from around your body so he can dig into the pocket of his jeans. He has a determined look on his face; your brows furrow in confusion when he takes whatever he had in his pocket out of it, and his hand is large enough that it completely encompasses whatever it is.

"What is it, Buck?" You ask, bringing up your hands to cover his closed one. When he nods to your joined hands, he uncurls his fingers to reveal what he was holding - a small black box.

A small black box.

All of the air leaves your lungs, and you know what it holds without even having to look at it. That doesn't stop a few tears from running down your cheeks and a small squeak from leaving your lips when you see the gorgeous gold band nestled inside.

"Wha -"

"I told you I was serious," Bucky murmurs, using his free hand to take out the ring and set the box aside so he can also hold your left hand. "I didn't exactly have a plan on when I was going to propose; I figured I would just know when the time is right. I didn't have any intentions of it being tonight, but now I know that I have to do it now."

There's a lump in your throat, your head is spinning, and you have to pinch yourself because if this is a dream, then you want to wake up now before he asks, and then it all goes away.

But it doesn't go away; the dream doesn't fizzle out when you feel that sharp pain. You'll ask Bucky later to tell you again what he said leading up to his question because all you can hear right now is your own heartbeat pounding away with each new word that his lips form. It's all a haze until -

"Will you marry me?"

You barely let him get the question out before you're practically screaming "yes!" into the air, then dive down to capture his lips with yours. The kiss is frantic and a little messy, and it's never been more perfect because it's a kiss with Bucky, your mate, your Alpha, your soon-to-be-husband. And the kiss goes on and on, your tongues tangling with each other as you explore old territory as though it's for the first time until the need to breathe outweighs your desperation to show your Alpha how much he means to you.

"Yes," You breathe against his lips when you pull back. It takes a few moments of laughing and sniffling for both of you to settle back into your original positions, but when you do, you stare up at the stars with a newfound appreciation.

"So," Bucky says, wrapping his arms around you even tighter now as he plays with your fingers, "tell me, what's our wedding going to be like?"

You end up falling asleep outside that night, talking about the plans for the ceremony and the possible honeymoon destinations until your voice gets scratchy and you can barely keep your eyes open.

And if there are tears of happiness in Bucky's eyes the whole time, then, well, it's not like your eyes are dry either.

-

taglist: @lilyalone @crazyunsexycool @goldylions @yeehawbrothers @buckysprettybaby @buckyssweetheart @heytheredelulu @somnorvos @ozwriterchick @pxgeturner @gentlelimerence @myfavbuckyfics @justsebstan @brookeleclerc @fandoms-writings @pocolottie

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders.