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sugarushwriting · 23 days ago

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cherry popper —

sunghoon x reader

getting your cherry popped by your enemy

mature content featured, read at your own discretion

note: i know i know i said a writing schedule but this is my issue — i just want you all to read what i have planned so bad! i’ll start the schedule soon, ignore my last updated post

“you are infuriating!” you screeched, stomping your foot to the ground like a child.

“no, you are!”

“for goodness sake, you both are infuriating!” your professor interrupted your arguing with park sunghoon.

your worst enemy since middle school. now both ready to graduate university soon, nothing has changed.

you and sunghoon turned to your professor with looks of disgust towards one another. your professor has had you both in her classes for 3 semesters as you both shared a major.

“i’ve dealt with you two for too long! always arguing before, after, and during my lectures! you two can’t even stop bickering long enough to enjoy this nice class trip!” the professor rambled.

“professor, i really was trying to enjoy this trip—,” the professor cut you off

“no you haven’t! any given moment you started an argument with mr. park, knowing he will argue back. you two leave me no choice, you are to stay here in your rooms at the hotel, my assistant will be staying on the floor if you two need anything. he’ll most likely try to find a bonding exercise for you two.”

“if we stay here, that means we miss the exhibits!” sunghoon exclaimed, dark bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion, hurt, and anger towards you.

the professor shrugged. “hopefully it’ll teach you a lesson like i teach my children.” she scolded, waving her finger at both of you.

you and sunghoon stood in the hallway of the hotel dumbfounded that you would be missing the exhibit you both were so excited to view. three months you’ve been waiting for this trip!

you groaned in annoyance, “you just have to ruin everything, huh?”

sunghoon turned to you wide eyed, “me? you’re the one always starting shit between us two!”

“you could just ignore me.” you shrugged trying to place the blame all on him.

“ignore you? i’ve tried, and you never let it go. you keep pestering like an annoying little bug until i reply to you.”

your lip turned up, “listen here you little—,”

“finish that sentence and i’ll ask the hotel to make you clean toilets.” your professors graduate assistant snapped.

you and sunghoon turned around to face the young guy who couldn’t be more than 3 years older than you.

“faked being ill because my girlfriend happened to come down to the city to see me. haven’t seen her in four months as we live apart,” the assistant began explaining, “but now i have to babysit two annoying little young adults who can’t get along for nothing!”

“man, you don’t have to babysit us. we can care for ourselves.” sunghoon stated.

“and risk you two sneaking off?” the assistant shook his head.

you crossed your arms, “so what do you want us to do?”

“the hotel is low on staff in the kitchen. they just need help with dishwashing and putting together cutlery.”

“no way! i don’t want my fingers to turn into raisins!”

“that’s why gloves were invented, cherry.”

you narrowed your eyes, ready to stab sunghoon if you could, especially at the nickname he’s given you for the past year.

“you two, kitchen, now. you can go to your separate rooms afterwards. don’t snitch on me, help the kitchen out, and i’ll tell the professor you two got along well enough to be able to join in on the activities tomorrow.”

“deal.” both you and sunghoon agreed.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

it was all going well—decently well for you and sunghoon until you dropped a plate in the sink, causing the water to splash both you and him.

he splashed water back, so now you and him were banned from dishwashing and instead wrapping cutlery for future hotel guests.

about an hour later, you both were only half way done through the giant bucket of clean dishes.

“this is exhausting!” you sighed. “my neck is starting to hurt.”

“stop whining and just keep going.” sunghoon replied quietly.

“what’s got your panties in a twist?”

sunghoon dropped the fork and spoon he was holding. “mhm, i don’t know, maybe you? always starting arguments with me.”

“you’re the one who started it, park sunghoon.”

“when did i ever start? you are the one who started it back in middle school.”

“middle school? sunghoon, i never even talked to you in middle school until that day you said my hair bow was ugly.” you reminded him.

that’s when sunghoon became your enemy. maybe for a stupid reason, but as a young girl, you had tried a new hair style with a hair bow after your mom made you get a hair cut, that the salon butchered.

you were insecure about it for a while, but it only really unsettled you when sunghoon came up to you one day during lunch telling you that your ‘hair bow was ugly, and nothing can make your hair look pretty again.’

since then, you’ve always sought out to ruin park sunghoon. whether it was getting better grades, to become top of the class. becoming class president so he’d be class vice president.

or even childish things like a whoopie cushion, taking a picture of him picking his nose in private, and even starting arguments over small things.

but the biggest would have to be when you started dating his friend second to last year in high school, you two only ending the relationship a little over a year ago.

kang taehyun.

it was a sneaky move to date your enemy’s friend. but it worked in your favor as just your presence annoyed sunghoon. he started to dislike you even more then.

but it wasn’t like sunghoon and taehyun were best friends, they just happened to be in the same friend group.

sunghoon remembered the day he called your hair bow ugly. he actually didn’t think it was ugly, but he was upset about what he overheard you and your friends at the time saying about him.

then when sunghoon found out you were actually dating taehyun, he couldn’t believe it. he would tease you and only bring it up to taehyun the reasoning for you to date his friend was to annoy him.

sunghoon used to hate seeing you around all the time when he just wanted to be with his friends. he especially disliked whenever taehyun would be too handsy with you.

“i only called your hair bow ugly because you and your friends made fun of me.” sunghoon sighed deeply. his lips went into a thin straight line as he went back to his deep thinking, focused on wrapping the silverware.

you looked at him surprised and confused. “sunghoon, when did my friends and i ever make fun of you?”

sunghoon sighed once more, wanting to forget the whole incident, but knew now was probably a good, but very late time to confront you about it.

“i overheard you all laughing at the fact i was a figure skater at the time, and said something about me being feminine.”

you stood there, too much in shock. your brain racked old memories and conversations, trying to remember that exact time. as you stood and stared, sunghoon continue on with the kitchen chore.

then it hit you, and you slightly chuckled. “sunghoon, we weren’t laughing at you. we were admiring you. the fact you was a boy doing figure skating? we were so impressed! and the feminine thing was a compliment, i promise! i swear as young girls we were jealous because you had a nice body we were jealous of at the time.”

sunghoon snapped his head toward you, observing you for any chance of a lie. he saw none as you stood there and smirked.

“you really called my hair bow ugly, to upset me, because you misheard my conversation with my friends?”

sunghoon scoffed, “well i mean, as a young boy, it was hard enough being a figure skater. i was just, don’t know, very introverted and shy.”

which he still was most times.

“you aren’t introverted or shy around me, sunghoon.”

“because i can’t be. you drive me up the wall on my nerves.”

you laughed. sunghoon liked the sound. he always did.

then he asked, “did i really hurt your feelings by saying your bow was ugly?”

you nodded. “yes you did. that started a war.”

“a war between us that i think we can now end?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

after another hour, you all were close to finished when the kitchen staff let you go. rubbing your neck, you complained, excited to shower and just lay around for the rest of the night.

it was only 6 in the evening, and the exhibit went on until 9 pm, and you both were sure the professor and classmates would be off doing their own thing for the rest of the night as curfew wasn’t until 1 am.

“wanna watch a movie?” sunghoon asked, startling you. “i mean, there’s nothing else going on for us, and we could, maybe, keep each other entertained?”

you shrugged. “sure. just let me shower first. my room or yours?”

“mine. my friend and roommate, heeseung, snuck in some beer.”

you smiled. “perfect.”

half an hour later, you both were showered, in comfy clothes, and in sunghoon’s hotel room, sitting on the couch at the end of the beds watching a movie.

two drinks in, sunghoon was feeling bold. “why did you date taehyun?”

being caught off guard, you slowly turned your head, then tilted. “uh, why?”

“did you only date him because of me? to make me mad or jealous?”

“more to make you mad.” you teased with a wink.

“well congrats, you made me both mad and jealous by dating my friend.” sunghoon snickered, sipping his bottle of beer. he was no where near drunk or even tipsy. just a bit of extra courage running through his veins.

it was him watching you out of the side of his eye that got him this way. your laugh, your smile, the smell of you, so intoxicating.

you were more shocked and confused than ever. “sunghoon, what?”

sunghoon leaned down to look at your face, “taehyun used to bitch and moan that he could never get in your pants. that you would tease him, only willing to dry hump with him.”

you swallowed but rolled your eyes as well. taehyun always did complain that you never let him have sex with you. it never really bothered you.

taehyun knew you were a virgin. what he didn’t know was that whenever you thought about finally being intimate with him, all you thought about what sunghoon. all you could see was sunghoon. your thoughts were consumed of sunghoon whenever you thought anything sexual.

“why wouldn’t you have sex with your boyfriend, cherry?”

“why do you call me cherry?”

“answer me first.” sunghoon placed the bottle on the floor bedside him so he could turn his body to face you once more.

“uh, well i just didn’t want to have sex with him.” you shrugged one shoulder.

“why not?”

“eh eh, i answered you, your turn.” you tsked.

sunghoon bit his lower lip, staring at your lips as he replied, “because of that cherry lip gloss you always wear.”

you were wearing it now. not only did it look good against your skin, it tasted good too, whenever you got your nervous antics and chewed on your lip.

sunghoon always observed you putting that cherry lip gloss on your lips. it started with the cherry chapstick in high school, but just a little over a year ago you started wearing the cherry lip gloss.

“now answer me.” sunghoon demanded.

you took in a deep breath wondering how much or little to tell him. “well,”

“—was it because he wasn’t me?” sunghoon interrupted, your eyes going wide.

“sunghoon, no, what would give you that idea?”

“he told me he heard you calling out another guy’s name while playing with a toy of yours. he looked at me with anger and disbelief as if i had something to do with it.”

your eyes still wide, mouth shaped into an ‘o.’ you laughed nervously waving sunghoon off, “ah, he probably misheard me, that’s all.”

“i don’t believe you cherry.” sunghoon stated, standing up from the couch only to stand directly in front of you. eye level now with his crotch, you looked at him with innocent and confused eyes.

“sunghoon—,”

sunghoon stopped you mid sentence just by his thumbs hooking to the hem of his sweats, only pulling them down a little, teasing to pull out his cock.

“have you only kissed and dry humped him? what else have you done with him while thinking of me?” sunghoon clicked his tongue.

you shook your head. “sunghoon you’re mistaken!”

“sucked taehyun’s dick while thinking of me? mhm, even dry hump him thinking and wishing it was my lap you were rocking against?”

each sentence, sunghoon leaned in closer, mouth inches from yours. he could smell the cherry lip gloss of yours. excited to taste it finally.

you closed your eyes because—it was the truth. all of it. you blurted, “i never had sex with him because i’m a virgin!”

sunghoon chuckled, raising to his full height again. with a smirk, “mhm so my cherry was waiting to get her cherry popped by her enemy.”

you tightened your legs closer together for friction, but also to prevent yourself from becoming any wetter at just his words.

your movement didn’t go unnoticed from sunghoon. he got down on his knees in front of you. “has my cherry thought about getting ate out from her enemy? have you imagined it was me instead of taehyun going down on you?”

you shook your head, wanting to not believe this was happening. it wasn’t until you felt sunghoon’s teeth bite your thigh through your own bottoms, you snapped your eyes open.

“what was that for!”

sunghoon laughed, “be honest baby.” then, you nodded. “guess i’ll have to make your imagination become reality, huh?”

quick and easy, he got your bottoms off of your legs, and used his thumb to tease your clit through your underwear. a wet spot already beginning to form.

sunghoon’s eyes sparkled with neediness and excitement. he got up from his knees, you internally protesting, until his lips captures yours into a searing kiss.

he whispered against your lips, “so tasty, cherry,” as he continued to intensely work his lips against yours, loving the cherry lip gloss against his own lips.

he soon fell back to his knees, kissing up your right thigh before he moved your underwear to the side, poking his index finger to your cunt. he was met with tightness and some resistance, but only because it was a new feeling, new fingers for you. long, fingers to be exact.

sunghoon poked his index finger in your hole, followed by his middle finger, your legs opening wider for him, head rolling to the back of the couch with a groan. your hands gripped the couch, fingers digging into the cushions.

sunghoon then added a third finger, his ring finger, and your right leg went to hook over his shoulder, him holding your left wide open for him.

it was so much you wanted to snap your legs closed. sunghoon rocked his fingers in and out a few times, until your wetness covered his fingers, and he pulled out, quickly undressing you of your underwear. but just as quickly as his fingers were gone, it was replaced with his tongue and lips.

“sung—hoon!” you sang into a moan, left hand gripping his locks.

he moaned into your cunt, lapping up the juices you had to offer to him, occasionally using his k-9 teeth to nibble on your folds and clit. when his lips found home onto your clit, using his tongue to swirl, teeth to nibble, three of his fingers entered back into your cunt, no warning or teasing. he began rocking his fingers in and out in a medium pace, his tongue flicking your bud.

your chest and stomach began to tighten, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, head rolling onto the back of the couch from left to right. he removed his lips, fingers still, only to spit on your cunt, and got right back to work as if he didn’t pause to begin with.

this orgasm was about to be intense. taehyun never gave you mind blowing head like this. he was always decent, though. but sunghoon’s tongue was magic and had you coming way too soon.

“hoon!” you moaned loudly, hoping no one outside the door could hear you. “i’m—hoon, i—come—my goodness!” you babbled.

sunghoon used only his tongue while you came down from your first orgasm of the night.

your body jerked from the overstimulation, you pushing sunghoon’s head away.

“taste so good, cherry. better than i imagined.” he whispered once again, against your lips, before kissing you, his tongue poking through to find yours.

while kissing him, sunghoon grabbed you by your thighs so he picked you up and held you, turning around so he sat on the couch with you straddling him.

your wetness immediately started to stain his sweats, but he didn’t care. “hump me, cherry.”

“like this?” you asked. he wanted you to hump him? you bare below, him with his sweats?

you squealed when a palm of his came down to your bare ass. “it wasn’t an option, cherry.”

you nodded, biting your lip, as you began to rock your hips back and forth and in circles around his cock which was imprinting through his sweats. your cunt could feel the outline of him, getting wetter with each movement.

soon, you were on your way to your second orgasm. sunghoon’s hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements as you became more sloppy, only worried about reaching your second orgasm.

“that’s it cherry, use me like you’ve always wanted.” fuck sunghoon’s words were not (but was) helping.

your hands gripped his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as your movements increased as your orgasm was approaching.

your thighs started to become wet from your own juices, a big spot covering sungoon’s outline.

sunghoon pulled you closer as you came, he began sucking and kissing your neck, sending you over the edge even more.

your movements slowed down, as his hands stayed glued to your hips. your breathing became heavy against his collarbone, you giving it a peck, leaving a lip mark.

you’ve had two orgasms, sunghoon none. you leaned back to look sunghoon in the eyes. “what about you coming?”

sunghoon’s lips perked up, “cherry, i’ll come, don’t you worry.”

sunghoon from underneath, pulled down his sweat pants, your thighs and cunt somewhat hovering over him. you felt his tip brush against your folds, your body shivering with excitement.

you only hoped your toys prepared you enough for this moment. sunghoon pushed his sweats off as far as he could, down to his ankles. his shirt came off next, along with yours, leaving you both completely naked.

“cherry, i hope you used a dildo big enough.” he stated as he pulled a condom out from between the couch cushions. you were to entranced to even comment on that.

you bit your lip, “i hope so too, hoon.” you sighed against his lips, kissing him, as he helped you ease down on his hard cock after he put on the condom.

you bit down on his lip when he fully pushed you down on his length, a loud moan coming from you both.

“fuck, so tight cherry.” sunghoon groaned, head leaning back against the couch. “those toys did nothing to prepare you for me.”

you stayed still, both in a comfortable position. “i’m scared to move.”

“just go slow, okay?” sunghoon’s fingertips ran up and down your spine to comfort you. with a sigh of pleasure, you lifted your hips to the tip only, to slowly push back down.

you were sure you felt him in your stomach. slowly, you kept a rhythm of up and down on his length, occasionally rocking your clit forward for friction.

soon your thighs were starting to tense and become tired. “hoon, can—can you take over please?” you sighed against his cheek, nose resting in his neck.

without even removing himself from in you, sunghoon stood up from the couch, your wetness dripping in between the both of you. he carried you over to his bed, your legs wrapped around him.

he laid you on the bed, again, never slipping from inside you. his hand found one of your hips, the other resting against your cheek.

“let me know if it’s too much.” sunghoon stated before he pulled out completely only to push back with such force, your cunt squelched, your eyes shutting, a loud moan leaving your lips.

“fuck! sunghoon!”

you wasn’t expecting that. but honestly, you wasn’t expecting or even wanting him to be gentle.

for the next however long, which felt like hours, sunghoon rutted his cock in and out of your cunt with ease, your wetness spilling out on your thighs and his.

his thumb came down to your clit, rubbing left, right, up, and down, stimulating you just right to bring you to your third orgasm of the night.

“that’s it cherry, baby come on my cock. come on your first cock. fuck!” sunghoon moaned. “such a dirty slut thinking about your enemy while with that ex of yours.”

“hoon—sorry,” you apologized for no reason at all. why was you apologizing?

“wanted me to be the one to pop your cherry? got your wish.” sunghoon sighed, his pace of thrusts speeding up and becoming sloppy as he was chasing his first orgasm. “fucking whore thinking of me while playing with your toys. imagining it was me eating you out. kissing you. all while with—,”

with a loud, explosive moan, you cut sunghoon off as you came for the third time. no squirting involved, but you did have so much wetness dripping out of you, anyone could be mistaken.

sunghoon released into the condom with a low, throaty, growl-like moan, collapsing on top of you before rolling off.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

sometime in the middle of the night, you heard hush whispers. you didn’t move an inch, only somewhat, subconsciously listening.

“sorry man, i can ask her to leave?”

“absolutely not! i’ll go bunk with her roommate for this trip. once i tell her why i need somewhere to sleep she will be more than thrilled.”

it was heeseung, coming in after 3 am. once he saw you and sunghoon in the same bed, he didn’t even ask questions, only smiled.

about damn time you two fucked the anger out of one another.

sunghoon crawled back in bed next to you, your body only covered by a shirt of his. sunghoon stared at your sleeping figure with a smile.

you were finally his.

#fanfiction #engene #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #park sunghoon #reader x sunghoon #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen smut

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tradgedyinwaves · 2 months ago

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First Choice - Part 7

Part seven of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: anxiety, hinting at self-harm, mostly just fluffy

You woke up in your own bed, dressed in your pajamas with the smell of bacon and coffee filtering through your apartment. You lived alone. Scrambling out of bed, you rushed into the living space, sliding on your socks, only to find Simon and Kyle making breakfast while Johnny and John were cleaning up the blankets and pillows they’d found in your hall closet.

“You’re still here?” you asked, stare darting between the men in the kitchen and the men in the living room. “Well, of course, doll. Didn’t want to leave your door unlocked. Wouldn’t be very safe,” John stated, folding over the last of the quilts. Johnny took the stack of blankets and smiled warmly at you, whispering a good morning before slipping around you to put the blankets back in the closet.

“But I’m…changed,” you whispered, looking down at the baggy tee and pajama pants with cute little penguins all over. John stepped over to you and took your hands, smiling softly. “That was me, doll. I only changed your pants and top and then put you to bed.” Your eyes bugged as you pulled out the neckline of your shirt and looked down. Yup, still wearing your bra from the day before. Quickly dropping the shirt, you hooked a finger in the bottoms and checked your panties. Yup, same as the day before.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you replied meekly, suddenly very aware that while this man hadn’t seen you naked, he’d seen enough. Saw the stretch marks and the dimples in your flesh. Saw the scars that littered the tops of your thighs, silvery white in their age. Saw everything you tried to hide from the world and he could tell you weren’t keen on it. “Of course, little one. Anything for you.”

John nodded and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen for a mug of coffee. You watched him go before Kyle was presenting you with your favorite mug filled with coffee. “Wasn’t sure how you take it, but I saw the mug on the drying rack,” Kyle explained, giving you a soft smile. “Oh, this is fine. Thank you,” you stammered out, looking down at the bitter, brown liquid.

Lifting the cup to your lips, you sipped and made a face, scrunching up your nose and shaking your head. “Alright, not the black coffee type,” Kyle chuckled, taking your mug and disappearing back into the kitchen. You followed him this time, telling him exactly what you’d like in your coffee while sitting down at your dinner table, a table that until this morning was covered in paperwork from your job. Now it was all neatly stacked and set on the sideboard, out of the way so all five of you could sit around the table.

By the time you’d sipped your way through half your mug, the table was laden down with all kinds of breakfast foods and a pot of coffee. John sat at the head of the table with Simon on his and Kyle on his left. Johnny sat next to Simon while you found yourself on the other side of Kyle. It was strange to you that your table was being used for something other than work and was now surrounded by you and four men who had apparently adopted you or decided you needed their protection, you weren’t sure yet.

Everyone ate in silence, the only sound being the cutlery scraping across plates. The silence was comfortable, not the kind where you feel anxious to say something to break it up or being the good host. But where silence was, there was thinking and that always led to you opening your mouth.

“Wh-Why are you all here?” you asked, looking down at the half eaten plate of food before you. If you’d thought it was quiet before, that had nothing on the silence that now rang through the room as each man stopped eating and paused to look at you. “We like ya, pet. Thought that went without saying?” Kyle answered for them all, watching you curiously.

“Y-you like me? All of you?”

Probably going to keep this story more fluffy than anything else. Might end it soon, but I'm not really sure where I'm going with it.

<- Part 6 Part 8 ->

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

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i loveee touchy!bestfriend!james and i personally am not touchy whatsoever except for like a fewww people and idek why i like thinking of reader like that and Sirius and Remus and everyone are like ?? how come you rest your head in james lap and not ours how come you hold his hand blah blah and readers just like idk he’s just so comfy

Omg same!! They’d be so confused

You’d been studying for hours in your bedroom while James, Sirius and Remus had sorted out their own stuff.

You’ve got a midterm coming up and it’s for one of the more confusing topics ever so you’d told the boys not to bug you under any circumstances.

Now, a couple hours later, your eyes are blurry and your stomach is being teased by the scent of what you think is a roast dinner from the kitchen.

Your descent down the steps is anything but coordinated and you’re lucky James had been on his way up when you missed the last step and almost went flying across the floor.

His hand comes to your waist and another around your shoulders to steady you.

“Was just coming up to see if you wanted to have tea with us.”

You nod, in no hurry really to get out of James’ hold.

“Think you should lay down first, angel. You look about ten seconds from passing out.”

Remus and Sirius are setting up dinner in the living room- a bad habit you’ve all got stuck in when you didn’t own a dining table.

Their eyes go wide as saucers as they watch James sit and pull you into his lap. It’s mind boggling to them that there’s not even a hint of resistance on your part.

You hate being touched- you like to be the initiator and sometimes even that is a no-go. Remus and Sirius haven’t had brazen touches like James gets every day.

You lay your head on his broad chest, hearing his heartbeat steadily as you lay there.

“You gonna be able to eat, or d’you want me to pack it away?”

You shake your head, “Don’t move yet Jamie, think I’m gonna fall asleep.”

James nods, kissing the crown of your head- an action that makes Sirius grip onto the plates in his hands a little tighter.

“Fucker thinks he’s so smooth,” Remus mutters as he sets the cutlery down. Sirius nods, eyes on James who appears to be whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“Apparently they both are.” Sirius says, jutting his chin in your direction so Remus can see the way you’re playing with the hair on the nape of James’ neck with a little smile on your face.

#jamespotter #james potter #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter x black!reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter headcanon

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alleiwentcrazy · 2 years ago

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The point is, Steve can’t hear.

A person can get hit in the head only so many times before it takes effect and does permanent damage. Steve’s incessant claims that being in the front row when the fight breaks down does nothing to him, that he’s safe and alright as long as everyone else is, mean very little in the face of cold, evident facts.

His hearing isn’t intact. It takes him a while to adjust to this reality, but with the help of his friends, he eventually does. Thanks to Nancy’s fierce bullying of the government guys who come to Hawkins to assess the situation and cook up some half-assed excuse for everything that’s happened, Steve now has a small army of well-paid doctors that really seem to be eager to help. He also gets state-of-the-art hearing aids that, well—they work, but Steve’s range of possibilities is still quite narrow. Let a few people into the room, let them speak simultaneously and all he can hear is static, rustles and crackling.

But he’s pliant. He listens when Robin tells him they have to get in the car and hit the road to get to his appointment on time. He lets her help with inserting the aids properly on the days he’s just too impatient and too bugged about how they feel and look to even care if they help him hear. He’s not dismissing her enthusiasm when she starts learning sign language before he even gets a chance to discuss it as his option.

He’s doing a lot of things for her, even if they’re supposed to be important to him first. To be honest, these days it’s mostly doing things for Robin that keeps him going. He would have gone completely numb ages ago if it weren’t for her and her unique ways of picking up the severed pieces whenever he crumbles.

He’s also doing it for Dustin. If Robin is his twin sister, Dustin is the little brother he’s never had. And Dustin… It’s just been too rough on him. It’s been rough on everyone; how could it not be if the only thing they seem to be able to do is wait? Wait for the lab guys to figure out a way to end this. Wait for the panic to cease. Wait for Max to wake up.

Wait for the grief to pass.

They wait and wait, but it never stops—on the contrary, it brings fresh, equally unwanted feelings. They’re always there, lurking behind the corner like a kitten that wants to launch itself at an unsuspecting owner – only with them, there won’t be any playtime involved. Steve recognizes this feeling. It’s the same feeling he’d had in that Winnebago when he was dropping off Max, Lucas and Erica at Creel’s doorstep. An awful anticipation of doom waiting to happen.

He doesn’t like it. He’d like to find a way to do something about it, but he can’t seem to get to the core of it.

Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s hearing things when he really can’t be hearing them.

At first, Steve writes it off as him being paranoid. It happens only when he’s home by himself, so it’s the only logical explanation – he takes off his aids, he gets too attentive about his surroundings, right? He thinks he hears something, but it’s only his tired mind playing tricks on him.

Especially because what he hears are mostly usual, non threatening things. The sound of water running in the bathroom (he goes inside, everything is dry and quiet). The sound of kitchen drawers being opened (he goes to the kitchen, the cabinets are exactly the way he left them). The sound of cutlery being dropped on the floor (but he hasn’t even taken anything out in the first place).

He even gets used to it. Things happen, his brain is weird. It’s confusing, sure, but hasn’t he seen worse things? He definitely has.

But it doesn’t keep him away from sleeping with his bat perched on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all, if a sudden sound of breaking glass doesn’t keep him awake until his morning shift with Robin, when he can finally leave this goddamn house and take his mind off of things.

Steve tries to ignore it. He really tries, but the point is—Steve can’t hear things like running water in the bathroom when his aids are off. Hell, he only makes it out if he focuses on it when they’re in, so why the heck can he hear it so well? Why are the sounds multiplying?

It goes on for weeks. He avoids the topic for as long as possible, trying to shoo away the obvious similarities between his house and the house that made him hate spiders and cringe at fireplaces not too long ago.

It gets a little too real on just some random Tuesday, when his kitchen positively explodes with sounds the second he gets the hearing aids off. Cabinet doors slam left and right, mugs fall to the floor and shatter, forks and spoons seem to be getting thrown around like ragdolls—but Steve sees nothing. He hears it, he hears it so loudly it hurts, the cacophony of noises he’s never even heard before, but his eyes register no proof of it. He curls down on the floor, expecting sharp glass pieces to cut his skin, but nothing happens. Nothing’s here.

He still covers his head, tucked away in the furthest corner of the kitchen, waiting for it to just stop, to leave him alone—

Steve doesn’t know how long it takes, but when it’s finally done, his knees are shaky and his breathing is ragged. He snatches his aids and takes off, straight to Robin’s house. He doesn’t even lock the door, a thing his parents would kill him for if they knew.

It’s the first time he explains everything to her. It would be hard not to, because she sees right through him. His panicked, restless eyes are enough indication of things not being right.

“Maybe, uh—I think I’ve read something about hearing loss and auditory hallucinations? That they happen, sometimes, especially if the loss of hearing is sudden?” she says, already flipping through her notebook where she keeps all Steve-related stuff and pacing around the room with enough force to make a hole in the carpet.

Steve’s not convinced. “It seems pretty real to me,” he mumbles and frowns. “But that’s the point of it, right?”

Robin shrugs. He notices that she has a small set of wrinkles around her eyes. Steve looks at them for a second in total disbelief. They already have some worry wrinkles, and they’re not even well into their twenties.

He’s gonna lose all his precious hair in a span of months if this doesn’t stop.

They decide to bring it up during his next appointment, still hoping that it’ll maybe go away on its own. Robin tries to make him get a consult straight away (what if it is rabies after all, Steve, like a really really really weird, belated presentation of rabies?), but he waves it off. The option of hallucinations doesn’t soothe his nerves, but as long as it’s not a chiming clock, he can avoid confronting it for a while longer.

It doesn’t go away, though. Steve can’t quite pinpoint it, but it almost feels like—well, it obviously doesn’t feel like it’s real enough to be real. But there’s something that accompanies the sounds, the lack of evidence, the missing of this ominous feeling that Creel’s house inflicted on him.

The sounds—it feels like they bear a presence. Steve’s still scared and gets spooked by them whenever they happen, but he’s no longer truly afraid of them.

Some of them are even comforting. The sound of his pillow being fluffed up before he gets to bed, the sound of pen scratching on paper whenever he leaves his journal open on the desk, the whooshing sound of a lighter being opened and closed – they all make this eerie place his parents have left him a little less empty.

He rarely lets himself think about it that way. He may be a little kooky, but admitting that he’s lonely enough to find hallucinations comforting would be way too much to handle at the moment.

So Steve can’t hear, but he learns to accept the fact that, apparently, sometimes he can. He doesn’t know how it works—to be quite honest he doesn’t know a lot about experiencing hearing loss at all, despite now being hard of hearing himself—but it just makes its place in his life.

He thinks about it a lot, but he tries not to overthink it too hard. It just happens. Things fall to the floor in his house, curtains get torn, the fridge gets opened frequently. He just can’t see it. His mind hears it, but his eyes don’t get the memo. He lives for longer than a week. It’s probably a good sign; nothing’s going to make his bones snap in two now, probably. Hopefully.

Things change suddenly.

Steve tries to spend as much time with Dustin as possible. Between work, his appointments and Robin, Dustin, Max and the kids are his top priority. He doesn’t think he would be able to function if he let himself take a breath and step down from his piled up responsibilities that he chose to take on himself. They keep him together. They keep him going.

Besides, Mrs. Henderson gets really worried. Sometimes it’s just better for Dustin to stay with Steve, and Steve is more than happy to be with him, even though it seems that Dustin doesn’t really like his cold house either.

It’s one of Dustin’s quiet days. He gets them, sometimes—Steve knows that trying to get him to talk on one of those days is a lost cause, and his ears are killing him. He was in such a hurry this morning he didn’t take the time to put the aids in properly. Work was overflowing with people, too, so now his temples are throbbing from trying to pick up the chatter from the static. Seriously, how is it possible that people still spend so much time watching movies in the face of almost-apocalypse, Steve doesn’t know.

“Would you mind if I took my aids off for a while?”

“Go ahead,” Dustin mumbles, bending over his new book.

Something flips inside Steve’s chest. He knows it’s not supposed to be like that, it’s unlike Dustin to be so… not himself. But what can Steve do? He can’t make him talk. He can just wait, nothing else.

He gets up to leave his aids on the counter and pour himself some coffee. He should probably start making dinner soon, but he decides to take a few peaceful sips first.

It’s weird. To sit with Dustin Henderson, of all people, without a single word. Steve glances at him every once and again, but Dustin either ignores him or genuinely forgets that he’s there.

Steve’s so deep in his thoughts about Dustin, he doesn’t even look to the side when a sudden sound of kitchen chair toppling over cuts through the silence. His eyes are trained on the kid.

Who flinches. And frowns. Steve can swear that he fights the urge to look around.

Each and every chair Steve keeps in the kitchen is standing where he placed them in the morning after breakfast. Nothing real has happened. But Steve heard it. And, apparently, Dustin did too.

Steve’s brain is working overtime for the rest of the evening, and he desperately tries not to show any of it. He’s jumping into conclusions. It was an accident; dumb luck. It’s nothing. He’s working himself up, nonsensically.

But it doesn’t feel like it’s nothing. It was only one chair, one sound, but the feeling that accompanied it was strong. Too strong to be nothing.

He waits to drop Dustin off at home like he’s on pins and needles, fumbling with his fingers and keys and pacing around. Maybe it’s better that it’s one of Dustin’s quiet days, he mostly gets away with it, getting only a few side glances.

When gets back home, it’s late, but he’s buzzing with anticipation nonetheless. He can finally do something. He discards his aids haphazardly, not nearly as carefully as he should, and starts running around the house. The house his parents built is huge—but the kitchen turns out to be quite small when he’s finally done with arraying at least a dozen lamps there. He has to raid three of his father's garages to get enough extension cords.

When he turns them on all at once, he has to take a step back and shut his eyes, because it’s too much light.

Just the right thing he needs.

His heart is beating so fast he can almost feel it ramming against his ribs. That’s about how far he’d thought this plan through.

“Come on,” he says and clears his throat, trying to gauge how his voice may really sound now. He repeats himself, hoping that it’s louder this time.

Nothing happens for a while, but he knows he’s close. The feeling is here. The presence that hasn’t left him in months. It’s here.

Steve walks around the kitchen, moves the lamps a little, shakes some of them. His hands are clammy and it feels like he’s chewed through his cheek at this point, but he can wait. He’s waited for a long time. He can wait a while longer.

When the microwave beeps, he stops breathing for a second.

Until it beeps again. And again.

“Oh god,” he breathes. He doesn’t know if he speaks clearly or not, he doesn’t even care. “Come on, show me that it’s you. Come on, come on—”

The lamp furthest to the left starts blinking, slowly at first. Then the one next to it, then another one, and another one, like someone’s walking around and making them flicker one by one.

They’re blinking so much one of the bulbs goes out. Steve doesn’t hear it hiss, so he knows it went out here, now. He knows it’s real.

“Oh god,” his hand goes to his mouth. His eyes are weirdly itchy. “Oh god, is it really you, Eddie?”

The lamp directly in front of Steve goes wild. When he reaches out, it’s almost like he can touch the presence that’s here with him.

And it’s Eddie. Eddie’s here with him.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #is he a ghost??? is he a zombie????#a vamp- is he a vampire?!?!?!?!?!?#well he's definitely a creature #robin buckley #dustin henderson #dustin and his dads #!!!!!#steddie #stranger things #st4 #fix it fic #of sorts???? at least a beginning of one #im telling you people.... there are explanations #hard of hearing steve harrington #hoh!steve #platonic stobin #because i love them

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banmitbandit · 4 months ago

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Pots 'N' Picks Week 2024: Day 4: Role Swap

Mother's Apple Cake (This recipe goes back 8 generations!) Have you ever wanted to surprise your fiance for his birthday? Or maybe your stepdaughter has developed a sweet tooth ever since your fiance made her treasure bug sorbet? In the mood for something tasty on a rainy day? Ever since I've been a kid, my mother's been cooking this apple cake for every celebration, and me and my siblings all lined up at the table with our plates and cutlery and ate every last crumb the moment it came out of the stove. The whole village would wander over hoping for a slice. When I was old enough, she taught me to cook this too, and when my wife and I left for good, this was one of the recipes she entrusted to me, teary-eyed, in a dusty cookbook written by my great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother. Now, you can't pry her shepherd's pie recipe from me, that's one of many secrets that'll be passed down to my kids and theirs and so on and so forth, and you'll notice this recipe doesn't contain a single monster part in it, but for the sake of filling up this cookbook penned by my future husband, I figured it wouldn't be fair to keep all these secrets from him. He's shared more than enough of his own with me, after all. [It takes another two pages of rambling to get to the actual recipe]

I like to think Chilchuck only knows how to cook like. three things. And they're all shit his mother taught him to cook.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #senshi of izganda #chilchuck tims #chilshi #pots n picks #potsnpicksweek2024 #smugchuck strikes back!!!!!!

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jjkamochoso · 4 months ago

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Hashing Out the Hatred for Hoshina

Enemies to Lovers, fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Request from Wattpad: Reader absolutely despises Soshiro and his smug attitude; what will happen when they accidentally get locked in a room together?

Warnings: small mentions of bugs, cussing

“Another celebration? We’ve been doing a lot of those recently,” you said at the end of your meeting with your superiors in which they announced yet another night of drinks and dinner for everyone in the Third Division. You weren’t complaining in the least bit—you just remembered the days when times like these were few and far between.

“Yes, but we’ve had much to be proud of lately,” replied Captain Ashiro.

“Or do you disagree with our most esteemed Captain, Platoon Leader L/n?” mused Soshiro Hoshina, your vice captain and source of extreme irritation and headaches each day of work. You hated that man with every fiber of your being. His laid back attitude paired with his propensity to tease people to their wits end bothered you immensely. You couldn’t stand the sound of his ferocious laughter, nor the way he would double over with tears in his eyes at anything he deemed remotely funny.

You especially hated when he spoke to you.

You faked a smile, ignoring the anger pooling in your chest at the wicked grin he was sending you. “Not at all, Vice Captain. I look forward to seeing you all later this evening.”

You bowed your head respectfully, signaling your departure. You raced out of the room before you could punch the smirk from Hoshina’s face.

You looked in the mirror and sighed as you put the finishing touches on your appearance. You always liked to look your best at these celebrations since it was the only time you had the chance to dress a little bit out of protocol. You slid your jacket over your well fitted casual outfit and walked down to where the food and drinks were being distributed. To your dismay, the caterers hadn’t begun preparing food yet; they had just shown up! You frowned, glancing at your watch. You looked around to ask one of your peers what was going on, but the only person there was—

Ugh. Hoshina.

You’d rather break all the glasses and walk on them barefoot before engaging in a conversation with that fox eyed, bowl cut idiot. However, the worst case scenario was unfolding before your eyes as he slinked over to you, hands in his pockets and fangs peeking out of his lips in a wide smile.

“You here to help set up?” he wondered.

You didn’t know how to answer. If you said yes, you’d be forced to stay with him and spend too much time next to that thorn in your side. If you said no, you’d look like a total jerk in front of the caterers.

“Of course. I thought it might be a show of good will since my enthusiasm for tonight was questioned earlier,” you told him, referring back to your previous conversation that day. Cue his boisterous laughter and you were already regretting not telling the truth so you could get out of there.

“Here I was, thinking you just hadn’t read the email with the change of time,” he howled, wiping tears from his eyes. You groaned internally.

That’s what I get for leaving my office early to shower before everyone else.

“Maybe you just wanted to spend some time with me,” he wondered aloud. This time it was you who burst out laughing.

“Me? Want to spend time with you? In your dreams, Hoshina,” you said, picking up a box of cutlery to put out on the table. The catering company workers gave you a grateful nod as they dashed around you and Soshiro, preparing the banquet.

“You’re much more pleasant in my dreams, L/n. Do you dream about me, too?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. You picked up a knife and set it down with extra force.

“Those kinds of dreams are called nightmares.”

This time, there was no laugh from Soshiro.

The rest of the setup went by quickly as you and Soshiro worked in a surprising state of silence. When the rest of your peers showed up, you gladly left to sit next to your unit, not wanting to entertain your vice captain any longer. You didn’t notice the questioning stares of your underlings as they spied you and Soshiro working suspiciously well together by yourselves; your disdain for the man was well known among the Third Division. Kafka and Kikoru giggled and theorized what that could mean while Reno just shook his head, not wanting to get involved. You, on the other hand, were completely unbothered as you ate and drank to your heart’s content, happy to have such a fulfilling meal after working hard all day and helping with the set up. As the night went on, you felt the temperature of the room go up so you slid your jacket off and placed it under the table.

“What were you and L/n doing here before everyone else?” asked Okonogi curiously, making Soshiro almost choke on his food.

“We both wanted to help set up so we came early,” he replied curtly.

“I see. And how was that?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Whaddya mean by that?”

“I think what Okonogi was getting at was the fact that you two don’t like each other,” explained Mina in her typical no nonsense fashion.

“Which I don’t get anyway,” Okonogi piped in.

“Eh? They’re just… too serious. Not my style,” he shrugged. “Besides, someone whose skin is that easy to get under should toughen up. So really, I’m being a good vice captain and helping them.”

Mina and Okonogi shared a glance and quietly agreed to move the conversation to a different topic.

Soshiro quickly regained his excitable spirit, entering into an easy conversation with his two close comrades when he stopped talking for a moment, seemingly distracted by something. The women looked over to where he was staring and they had to keep from gasping in shock.

He was completely enamored by you.

You had taken off your jacket which showed off your phenomenal outfit, garnering a strong response from both your teammates and your vice captain. Everyone was complimenting you and you thanked them, a kind smile resting on your face. Soshiro’s face went from surprised to visibly bothered, but Mina and Okonogi couldn’t figure out why. All of a sudden, he jumped right back into the conversation as if there was no pause in the first place, leaving his friends bewildered by the emotional whiplash.

“Aww man! I spilled all over me,” complained Iharu as he furiously wiped himself with a flimsy napkin. The contents of his drink had landed all over the table and the floor, creating a slipping hazard for anyone in the room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go grab some extra napkins from the storage closet,” you told him.

“Really? You’re the best, Platoon Leader!” he yelled. You smiled, happy to help.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

You stood up and made a beeline for the storage closet, trying to hurry so Iharu’s drink wouldn’t leave anything too stained. You left the door to the closet open for extra light as you reached up for the flimsy lightbulb, bathing the small space in a yellow glow.

You scowled as you looked around for the fifth time, still not able to find any napkins.

“Having trouble?”

You yelped, not expecting to have someone sneak up behind you. You turned around to see Hoshina doubled over in giggles and you were tempted to kick him in his stupid face.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said between gritted teeth. “Now leave me alone.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re fine. One of Japan’s finest can’t even find napkins.”

“I know where they’re supposed to be, but it looks like some air headed idiot put them all the way on the top shelf,” you snarked.

“That is one thing we can agree on. Those things are always in use, who puts them away so high?” asked Soshiro. You didn’t answer him, instead climbing on the shelves to try and reach the much needed paper products.

“If you fall, I won’t catch you,” Soshiro added.

“If I fall and you put your hands on me, I’ll make sure you don’t leave this closet alive,” you snarled back. Your hands found a good grip on the napkins and you pulled, climbing down with a handful.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you told him, trying to push past him.

Soshiro tapped your shoulder. “Uh, L/n?”

“What?” you growled, turning around. “I thought I told you not to touch me.”

“I thought you might wanna know there’s a big bug in those napkins.”

You gulped, bringing your eyes downward. Lo and behold, there was a large, black bug staring back at you from in between the napkins.

“Get the fuck away from me!” you screamed at the poor insect, throwing the napkins out the door of the closet. Soshiro, in his own panicked state, quickly closed the door so the bug didn’t make its way back inside to enact revenge. You put your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

“That was… that was good thinking. With the door closing,” you told him.

“Oh? Yeah. Uh, thanks.”

Trying to escape the awkward silence, you reached for the door handle, only to find it not budging. You tried again and again, but still, the handle wouldn’t move.

“Can’t figure out how to open a door either?” teased Soshiro.

“It’s stuck, dumbass.”

“No way. Let me try.”

You reluctantly stepped out of the way. “Because you’re so much stronger than me, is that it?”

Soshiro grunted as he tried to shake the handle loose. “Is everything with you some sort of personal attack? Why can’t you just relax?”

“Do you think I got this job by relaxing, hm? By laughing it up with my superiors until I got promoted?” you seethed. The door handle, obviously stuck, was ignored by the vice captain who was now dangerously close to your face.

“Do you think that’s how I got my job? That I didn’t work hard every day to prove my worth? I trained just as hard, maybe even harder than you, to get where I am now.”

“Hoshina, from the respectable Hoshina family, worked harder than me to get to where we are today. You really are a funny guy.”

He leaned in even closer. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Your voice leaked venom. “And you don’t know the first thing about me either.”

You were locked in a stare off, neither of you backing down.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked.

“Because you’re simple minded, overbearing, and much too smug for your own good. Why do you hate me?”

“Because you’re somber, bookish, and you don’t know how to enjoy a good joke.”

You stood there, your breaths mingling in the small confines of the storage closet, and you wondered what in the world was happening to you as you noticed how handsome Hoshina was for the first time.

“God, you annoy me,” you whispered.

“And you mildly irritate me,” he replied. Without thinking, you closed the small gap between you, placing your lips on his. He eagerly reciprocated, kissing you back. You backed off after a second, embarrassed at your actions.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“See? You play by the rules too much,” Soshiro interrupted with a smile; this time, though, it was a sincere one. He leaned back in to connect your lips once more and you completely melted into each other. Your hands gripped at his hair as his made their way to your waist, holding you steady. You were totally lost in each other, nothing but Soshiro filling all of your senses. The passionate kiss lasted a long time, both of you continually going back for more. The only thing that made you pull apart was the sudden squeak of the door and light flooding in to highlight his tousled hair and your swollen lips.

“Oh! Platoon Leader! Vice Captain! I’m sorry, I’ll just take these napkins from the ground! I swear, I didn’t see anything!” Kafka stuttered, slapping a hand over his eyes.

“Kafka, wait! Check the napkins for a big bug!” you yelled, but it was too late. The bug had made its appearance and Kafka screamed, running into the storage closet and slamming the door behind him.

“Kafka,” Soshiro said lowly, “the door handle is jammed from the inside.”

“No way, I’ve got this,” said Kafka confidently.

“I don’t got this,” he said dejectedly after a few minutes, sliding to the floor. He looked up, pointing between you and Soshiro. “So… are you two a thing now?”

Waiting for Reno to find all of you in the storage closet was the longest ten minutes of your life.

TAGLIST: @kana-daydreams

#soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina fluff #soshiro hoshina #kn8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #enemies to lovers #soshiro hoshina enemies to lovers

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sommerregenjuniluft · 10 months ago

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@jegulus-microfic feb 12 - fireside - 1k words

aka teenager!Harry and jeggy dads comforting him

Regulus startles awake at the sound of the front door and blinks his eyes open to Harry standing before it, shoulders tense and a deep crease between his brows. He slips into a little more sheepish expression when he realises he’s just woken Regulus up.

James is still snoring lightly next to him, one arm thrown over his head and shirt rucked up to expose the wide happy trail over his belly.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, visibly gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he kicks off his converse.

“That’s okay,” Regulus responds, voice raspy from residual sleep, and he watches Harry stiffly hang his jacket and then just stare back at their front door like it personally offended him.

Regulus sniffs and detangles himself from James’ big, heavy arm half thrown around his shoulders to get up. Harry only swivels his head once Regulus comes up right behind him, plush slippers shuffling against the hardwood floor.

The hard line looks even deeper up close and Regulus’ heart clenches with it as Harry looks up at him with a stormy kind of torment in his beautiful, big eyes. He clasps his son’s neck with a palm and tugs him into motion, nodding down the hall.

“Kitchen,” he decides and Harry nods, letting himself be guided into the adjacent room.

Regulus seats him on one of the stools at the kitchen island and tugs a few scratch cards from the mail on the counter in front of him. Harry pulls his wallet out of his jeans’ back pocket, letting it slap down on the tabletop before grabbing it again and rummaging for a fitting coin as Regulus goes to grab two mugs for them.

He grabs Harry’s favourite—a birthday present from Ron and Hermoine engraved with a bunch of pictures of them, the handle and inside dark red—and then the curvy white one with a cat wearing sunglasses sketch art for himself. Regulus pours milk and pops them into the microwave.

When he turns Harry is furiously rubbing away on the sweepstakes, already through his third and bouncing his knee restlessly in his seat.

Regulus lets him do as he needs, watching him as he waits for the microwave to ping. He grabs the honey from the shelf, fishes for a spoon in the cutlery drawer and assembles their hot beverage once the mugs are ready to be taken out.

The spoon is clinking against the ceramic as Regulus mixes in the viscous sugar and when he turns to join his son, Harry is already standing in front of him, expression troubled, still.

His back to the kitchen light Regulus can see Harry’s eyes glassy behind his specs so he puts the mugs down on the counter again and opens his arms for Harry to step into.

His son goes immediately, slumping forward and wrapping his arms loosely around his back, forehead coming down on the top of Regulus’ shoulder with a heavy sigh. Regulus cups the back of his head, fingers scratching soothingly and the other hand driving long strokes up and down his back. His hoodie smells smoky, his hair too—he must have been at the fireside with his friends again.

“Bad evening?” Regulus mumbles into the black bird’s nest of his son’s hair.

Harry ruts his forehead against him in a nod, grunting an affirmative.

Regulus sighs, “I’m sorry about that, bug.”

There’s a sniffle, more nodding and Regulus suspects Harry is carefully choosing not to use his voice again lest it breaks.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Harry lifts his head and Regulus’ hands go to cup his cheeks. “Maybe later,” he answers with a shrug, eyes averted.

“Of course,” Regulus nods, swiping his thumbs over Harry’s temples.

“It’s just–” he breaks off with a huff and Regulus ducks his head to catch his gaze.

“Just…?”

Harry takes a deep breath, “There’s someone.” He scrunches his nose so hard is dislodges his glasses, “They’re fucking infuriating, honestly.”

“Okay,” Regulus nods. He lightly narrows his eyes, “In a feelings kind of way?”

Harry groans bitterly at that, head tipping back and eyes clamping shut. “I hate being a teenager.”

The corners of his lips tug but Regulus reigns it in quickly enough before Harry sees. He rakes his fingers through his son’s hair instead and pulls him into a fierce forehead kiss.

Harry sighs explosively and simply returns back to the embrace just when James, expression sleep bleary and hair somehow more awful than their sons, shuffles into the kitchen, scratching through the hair on his stomach. They exchange a quick glance once James blinks the situation into consciousness, noticing the violated scratch cards and probably the smell of sweetened milk in the air as well.

“I love you, baby,” Regulus mumbles in a remindful tone, arms squeezing around their son.

Harry’s hair tickles Regulus’ nose when he nods. “I know.”

James drapes himself over Harry’s back, his hands sliding along Regulus waist and down until he can comfortably hook his thumbs into the waistband of Regulus’ sweats. “Love you, Hazza,” his husband mumbles, voice firm despite the sleep clinging to it and his beard scratching against the lining of Harry’s hoodie.

Regulus kisses the crown of his head and then the side of Harry’s.

They make an additional mug for James—with double the amount of honey for his husband because that glorious dad-stomach doesn’t come from just anywhere—and then all pile on the couch, huddled close together under the throw blanket as James puts on Brooklyn99 on Netflix.

Regulus’ arm is numb in a matter of ten minutes and James is back asleep in a matter of five. The soft snoring seems to be great background white noise though because they barely get through one episode when Harry’s breaths start coming slower as well where he’s cuddled into their sides.

He clicks the TV off, sinking deeper into the sofa cushions and when Regulus falls asleep it’s to the sounds of his family and the smell of warm honey and a whiff of smokey bonfire.

They should make smores tomorrow.

#james is a premium dilf in this one #regulus Studied. those parenting books #jegulus dads #jegulus raising harry #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #lune’s tiny fic

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moonsaver · 7 months ago

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Anon that said they wanted to put Sunday in a Petri dish here again thinking about him. I had this thought about him while eating an avocado egg breakfast bagel but that’s not the point. I lowkey feel like the most annoying thing he’d do to me imo is bother me when I eat. Not any of that kidnapping or coercion stuff but just him bugging me when I’m annoyed and hungry. I feel like he’d constantly wipe the corners of our mouth and tell us not to talk when chewing. Literally the worst. At some point he’d probably spoon feed us too if we didn’t listen to him. Maybe even put a cute apron on us and make me sit in his lap. I need him in a concerning way I’m chewing at the bars of my enclosure rn

Welcome back anon!

Tw: food and eating mentions, mannerisms regarding food.. basically about eating and that being controlled. Probably not good to read if you struggle with eating in some way. Take precaution!

Honestly.. yeah. I feel like more than half the time it's how strict he is with "propriety' that makes being kidnapped and held hostage by him the worst.

I personally would hate someone constantly picking on my mannerisms. It's your home for goodness sake!

Whenever you sit languidly at the dinner table he's always "advising" you to sit "properly" and with a straight back, fix your posture, fix your etiquette regarding your spoons and forks, constantly teaches you how to properly cut your food and eat it, the "proper" angle or whatever. Tries forcing a habit onto you of always placing a napkin on your lap and eating slowly with better precision and more attention. Always fidgeting and cleaning the corner of your mouth with his handkerchief to the point your skin gets irritated and sometimes burns from the constant rubbing.

Whenever you complain about his incessant need to "fix" you, he simply sighs and tells you "it's for your own good". If you keep complaining, his eyebrows slightly furrow and he sighs, shaking his head before getting up and sitting beside you, taking the cutlery from your hands and deciding to feed you instead. Although his intention was to simply enforce a good habit into you, he supposes reaping different rewards isn't so bad either.. he likes feeding you. It kind of becomes routine for you two. He says until you learn how to properly handle yourself, he'll take care of you. It's just a fancy excuse for him to continue feeding you.

Thankfully, when it comes to dietary restrictions, he's not completely bonkers about it like an almond mom. Just doesn't allow too much or too little of anything, it's a bit specific, but at least satisfactory.

About the apron thing.. yeah.

I imagine Sunday can cook those mild, flattery, rich people food so if you want to eat actual damn meals he either orders them, or has them prepared by a chef. However.. one day he sees you in an apron making something for yourself and something about it intrigues him. Seeing you in an apron and the domesticity of it kind of pulls something inside of him.

So there you have it – he's always (not so) subtly trying to push you to cook more just so he can see you in an apron. Buys the frilly kind, but if you don't like that.. fine. He'll get you some minimalistic ones, but he wants to see them on you. Gets cookbooks for you, too. Acts like the chef "is running late" just so you might cook, or says "the order's going to take some time" instead. Also lists off benefits of cooking for oneself. Doesn't mind if you don't cook for two, but does insist that he keeps feeding you. Tells you to stay in your apron because it's more convenient than putting a napkin on your lap, and tells you to move closer so he can properly feed you. He'll sigh, and massage his temple, saying "it's not enough, you need to come closer", and makes you sit in his lap while he feeds you. You swear he goes slower just to keep you there for longer.

At least.. he's been in a happier mood since. He does enjoy feeding you. Removes his silken white gloves just to do so. I imagine he also likes tying the apron for you himself. If he does it from behind, he kisses your nape after he's done. Or if he does it from the front, he pulls you closer with the strings of the apron, and kisses your forehead. Also insists on tying up your hair (if it's possible) as "they might get in the way". His excuses are getting old, but it's not like you can exactly deny him.

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